The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: c2r - Histories, p. 27

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The life and death of Richard the second. Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile This lowring tempest of your home‑bred hate,
[465]
Nor euer by aduised purpose meete, To plot, contriue, or complot any ill, 'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land.
Bull. I sweare. Mow. And I, to keepe all this. Bul.
[470]
Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie, By this time (had the King permitted vs) One of our soules had wandred in the ayre, Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land.
[475]
Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme, Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along The clogging burthen of a guilty soule.
Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor, My name be blotted from the booke of Life,
[480]
And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence: But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know, And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray, Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way.
Exit. Rich.
[485]
Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect, Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent, Returne with welcome home, from banishment.
Bul.
[490]
How long a time lyes in one little word: Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs End in a word, such is the breath of Kings.
Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me He shortens foure years of my sonnes exile:
[495]
But little vantage shall I reape thereby. For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend Can change their Moones, and bring their times about, My oyle‑dride Lampe, and time‑bewasted light Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night:
[500]
My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done, And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne.
Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue. Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue; Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow,
[505]
And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: Thy word is currant with him, for my death, But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.
Ric.
[510]
Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice, Where to thy tongue a party‑verdict gaue, Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre?
Gau. Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre: You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather
[515]
you would haue bid me argue like a Father. Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, I was too strict to make mine owne away: But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong, Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong.
Rich.
[520]
Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so: Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go.
Exit. Flourish. Au. Confine farewell what presence must not know From where you do remaine, let paper show. Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride
[525]
As farre as land will let me, by your side.
Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words, That thou returnst no greeting to thy friends?

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Bull. I haue too few to take my leaue of you, When the tongues office should be prodigall,
[530]
To breath th'abundant dolour of the heart.
Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time. Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time. Gan. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone? Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten. Gau.
[535]
Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure.
Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage. Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set
[540]
The precious Iewell of thy home returne.
Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the froste Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, by bare imagination of a Feast?
[545]
Or Wallow naked in December snow by thinking on fantasticke summers heate? Oh no, the apprehension of the good Giues but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more
[550]
Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu, My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet:
[555]
Where ere I wander, boast of this I can, Though banish'd, yet a true‑borne Englishman.
Scœna Quarta. [Act 1, Scene 4] Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot. Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Aumerle, How far brought you high Herford on his way? Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so)
[560]
but to the next high way, and there I left him.
Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind Which then grew bitterly against our face, Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance
[565]
Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.
Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him? Au. Farewell: and for my hart disdained y t my tongue Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such greefe,
[570]
That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue. Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres, And added yeeres to his short banishment, He should haue had a volume of Farwels, but since it would not, he had none of me.
Rich.
[575]
He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends, Our selfe, and Bushy, heere Bagot and Greene Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people:
[580]
How he did seeme to diue into their hearts, With humble, and familiar courtesie, What reuerence he did throw away on slaues; Wooing poore Craftes‑men, with the craft of soules, And patient vnder‑bearing of his Fortune,
[585]
As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster‑wench, c2 A

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Scœna Quarta. [Act 1, Scene 4] Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot. Rich. We did obserue. Cosine Aumerle, How far brought you high Herford on his way? Aum. I brought high Herford (if you call him so)
[560]
but to the next high way, and there I left him.
Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? Aum. Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind Which then grew bitterly against our face, Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance
[565]
Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.
Rich. What said our Cosin when you parted with him? Au. Farewell: and for my hart disdained y t my tongue Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such greefe,
[570]
That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue. Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres, And added yeeres to his short banishment, He should haue had a volume of Farwels, but since it would not, he had none of me.
Rich.
[575]
He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends, Our selfe, and Bushy, heere Bagot and Greene Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people:
[580]
How he did seeme to diue into their hearts, With humble, and familiar courtesie, What reuerence he did throw away on slaues; Wooing poore Craftes‑men, with the craft of soules, And patient vnder‑bearing of his Fortune,
[585]
As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster‑wench, A brace of Dray‑men bid God speed him well, And had the tribute of his supple knee, With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends,
[590]
As were our England in reuersion his, And he our subiects next degree in hope.
Gr. Well, he is gone, & with him go these thoughts: Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made my Liege
[595]
Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes For their aduantage, and your Highnesse losse.
Ric. We will our selfe in person to this warre, And for our Coffers, with too great a Court, And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat light,
[600]
We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme, The Reuennew whereof shall furnish vs For our affayres in hand: if that come short Our Substitutes at home shall haue Blanke‑charters: Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
[605]
They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold, And send them after to supply our wants: For we will make for Ireland presently. Enter Bushy. Bushy, what newes?
Bu. Old Iohn of Gaunt is verie sicke my Lord,
[610]
Sodainly taken, and hath sent post haste To entreat your Maiesty to visit him:
Ric. Where lyes he ? Bu. At Ely house. Ric. Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde,
[615]
To helpe him to his graue immediately: The lining of his coffers shall make Coates To decke our souldiers for these Irish warres. Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him: Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late.
Exit.
 

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<div type="scene" n="4">
   <head rend="italic center">Scœna Quarta.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 1, Scene 4]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="557">We did obserue. Cosine<hi rend="italic">Aumerle</hi>,</l>
      <l n="558">How far brought you high Herford on his way?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-aum">
      <speaker rend="italic">Aum.</speaker>
      <l n="559">I brought high Herford (if you call him so)</l>
      <l n="560">but to the next high way, and there I left him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="561">And say, what store of parting tears were shed?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-aum">
      <speaker rend="italic">Aum.</speaker>
      <l n="562">Faith none for me: except the Northeast wind</l>
      <l n="563">Which then grew bitterly against our face,</l>
      <l n="564">Awak'd the sleepie rhewme, and so by chance</l>
      <l n="565">Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="566">What said our Cosin when you parted with him?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-aum">
      <speaker rend="italic">Au.</speaker>
      <l n="567">Farewell: and for my hart disdained y<c rend="superscript">t</c>my tongue</l>
      <l n="568">Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft</l>
      <l n="569">To counterfeit oppression of such greefe,</l>
      <l n="570">That word seem'd buried in my sorrowes graue.</l>
      <l n="571">Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres,</l>
      <l n="572">And added yeeres to his short banishment,</l>
      <l n="573">He should haue had a volume of Farwels,</l>
      <l n="574">but since it would not, he had none of me.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="575">He is our Cosin (Cosin) but 'tis doubt,</l>
      <l n="576">When time shall call him home from banishment,</l>
      <l n="577">Whether our kinsman come to see his friends,</l>
      <l n="578">Our selfe, and<hi rend="italic">Bushy</hi>, heere<hi rend="italic">Bagot</hi>and<hi rend="italic">Greene</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="579">Obseru'd his Courtship to the common people:</l>
      <l n="580">How he did seeme to diue into their hearts,</l>
      <l n="581">With humble, and familiar courtesie,</l>
      <l n="582">What reuerence he did throw away on slaues;</l>
      <l n="583">Wooing poore Craftes‑men, with the craft of soules,</l>
      <l n="584">And patient vnder‑bearing of his Fortune,</l>
      <l n="585">As 'twere to banish their affects with him.</l>
      <l n="586">Off goes his bonnet to an Oyster‑wench,</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0352-0.jpg" n="28"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="587">A brace of Dray‑men bid God speed him well,</l>
      <l n="588">And had the tribute of his supple knee,</l>
      <l n="589">With thankes my Countrimen, my louing friends,</l>
      <l n="590">As were our England in reuersion his,</l>
      <l n="591">And he our subiects next degree in hope.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gre">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gr.</speaker>
      <l n="592">Well, he is gone, &amp; with him go these thoughts:</l>
      <l n="593">Now for the Rebels, which stand out in Ireland,</l>
      <l n="594">
         <hi rend="italic">E</hi>xpedient manage must be made my Liege</l>
      <l n="595">Ere further leysure, yeeld them further meanes</l>
      <l n="596">For their aduantage, and your Highnesse losse.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="597">We will our selfe in person to this warre,</l>
      <l n="598">And for our Coffers, with too great a Court,</l>
      <l n="599">And liberall Largesse, are growne somewhat light,</l>
      <l n="600">We are inforc'd to farme our royall Realme,</l>
      <l n="601">The Reuennew whereof shall furnish vs</l>
      <l n="602">For our affayres in hand: if that come short</l>
      <l n="603">Our Substitutes at home shall haue Blanke‑charters:</l>
      <l n="604">Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,</l>
      <l n="605">They shall subscribe them for large summes of Gold,</l>
      <l n="606">And send them after to supply our wants:</l>
      <l n="607">For we will make for Ireland presently.</l>
      <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Bushy.</stage>
      <l n="608">
         <hi rend="italic">Bushy</hi>, what newes?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bu.</speaker>
      <l n="609">Old<hi rend="italic">Iohn of Gaunt</hi>is verie sicke my Lord,</l>
      <l n="610">Sodainly taken, and hath sent post haste</l>
      <l n="611">To entreat your Maiesty to visit him:</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="612">Where lyes he<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bus">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bu.</speaker>
      <l n="613">At Ely house.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="614">Now put it (heauen) in his Physitians minde,</l>
      <l n="615">To helpe him to his graue immediately:</l>
      <l n="616">The lining of his coffers shall make Coates</l>
      <l n="617">To decke our souldiers for these Irish warres.</l>
      <l n="618">Come Gentlemen, let's all go visit him:</l>
      <l n="619">Pray heauen we may make hast, and come too late.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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