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: c2v - Histories, p. 28

Left Column


The life and death of Richard the second. 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.
Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. [Act 2, Scene 1] Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke. Gau.
[620]
Will the King come, that I may breath my last In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth?
Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth, For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare. Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men
[625]
Inforce attention like deepe harmony; Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine, For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine. He that no more must say, is listen'd more, Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose,
[630]
More are mens ends markt, then their liues before, The setting Sun, and Musicke is the close As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance, more then things long past; Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare,
[635]
My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare.
Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds As praises of his state: then there are sound Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen.
[640]
Report of fashions in proud Italy, Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation Limpes after in base imitation.

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Right Column


Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, So it be new, there's no respect how vile,
[645]
That is not quickly buz'd into his eares? That all too late comes counsell to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wits regard: Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose, Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose.
Gaunt.
[650]
Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd, And thus expiring, do foretell of him, His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last, For violent fires soone burne out themselues, Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short,
[655]
He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder: Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe. This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle,
[660]
This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars, This other Eden, demy paradise, This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe, Against infection, and the hand of warre: This happy breed of men, this little world,
[665]
This precious stone, set in the siluer sea, Which serues it in the office of a wall, Or as a Moate defensiue to a house, Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,
[670]
This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth, Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home, For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie, As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury
[675]
Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne. This Land of such deere soules, this deere‑deere Land, Deere for her reputation through the world, Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it) Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.
[680]
England bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds. That England, that was wont to conquer others,
[685]
Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe. Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death?
Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby. Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth, For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. Qu.
[690]
How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?
Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt? Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition: Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast,
[695]
And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time haue I watcht, Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt. The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon, Is strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes,
[700]
And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue, Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones.
Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names? Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe:
[705]
Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mee, I

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Actus Secundus. Scena Prima. [Act 2, Scene 1] Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke. Gau.
[620]
Will the King come, that I may breath my last In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth?
Yor. Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth, For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare. Gau. Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men
[625]
Inforce attention like deepe harmony; Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine, For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine. He that no more must say, is listen'd more, Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose,
[630]
More are mens ends markt, then their liues before, The setting Sun, and Musicke is the close As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance, more then things long past; Though Richard my liues counsell would not heare,
[635]
My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare.
Yor. No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds As praises of his state: then there are sound Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen.
[640]
Report of fashions in proud Italy, Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation Limpes after in base imitation. Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, So it be new, there's no respect how vile,
[645]
That is not quickly buz'd into his eares? That all too late comes counsell to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wits regard: Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose, Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose.
Gaunt.
[650]
Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd, And thus expiring, do foretell of him, His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last, For violent fires soone burne out themselues, Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short,
[655]
He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder: Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe. This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle,
[660]
This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars, This other Eden, demy paradise, This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe, Against infection, and the hand of warre: This happy breed of men, this little world,
[665]
This precious stone, set in the siluer sea, Which serues it in the office of a wall, Or as a Moate defensiue to a house, Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands, This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,
[670]
This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings, Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth, Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home, For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie, As is the sepulcher in stubborne Iury
[675]
Of the Worlds ransome, blessed Maries Sonne. This Land of such deere soules, this deere‑deere Land, Deere for her reputation through the world, Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it) Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.
[680]
England bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds. That England, that was wont to conquer others,
[685]
Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe. Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death?
Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene, Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby. Yor. The King is come, deale mildly with his youth, For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. Qu.
[690]
How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?
Ri. What comfort man? How ist with aged Gaunt? Ga. Oh how that name befits my composition: Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old: Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast,
[695]
And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time haue I watcht, Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt. The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon, Is strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes,
[700]
And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt: Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue, Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones.
Ric. Can sicke men play so nicely with their names? Gau. No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe:
[705]
Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mee, I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee.
Ric. Should dying men flatter those that liue? Gau. No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye. Rich. Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me. Gau.
[710]
Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be.
Rich. I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill. Gau. Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill: Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill, Thy death‑bed is no lesser then the Land,
[715]
Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke, And thou too care‑lesse patient as thou art, Commit'st thy'anointed body to the cure Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee. A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne,
[720]
Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head, And yet incaged in so small a Verge, The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land: Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye, Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes,
[725]
From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame, Deposing thee before thou wert possest, Which art possest now to depose thy selfe. Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world, It were a shame to let his Land by lease:
[730]
But for thy world enioying but this Land, Is it not more then shame, to shame it so? Landlord of England art thou, and not King: Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law, And⸺
Rich.
[735]
And thou, a lunaticke leane‑witted foole, Presuming on an Agues priuiledge, Dar'st with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheeke, chafing the Royall blood With fury, from his natiue residence?
[740]
Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie, Wer't thou not Brother to great Edwards sonne, This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, Should run thy had from thy vnreuerent shoulders.
Gau. Oh spare me not, my brothers Edwards sonne,
[745]
For that I was his Father Edwards sonne: That blood already (like the Pellican) Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd. My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule (Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules)
[750]
May be a president, and witnesse good, That thou respect'st not spilling Edwards blood: Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue, And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age, To crop at once a too‑long wither'd flowre.
[755]
Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee, These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee. Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue, Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue.
Exit Rich. And let them dye, that age and sullens haue,
[760]
For both hast thou, and both become the graue.
Yor. I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him: He loues you on my life, and holds you deere As Harry Duke of Herford, were he heere. Rich.
[765]
Right, you say true: as Herfords loue, so his; As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is.
Enter Northumberland. Nor. My Liege, olde Gaunt commends him to your Maiestie. Rich. What sayes he ? Nor. Nay nothing, all is said:
[770]
His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument, Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.
Yor. Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so, Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo. Rich. The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he,
[775]
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be: So much for that. Now for our Irish warres, We must supplant those rough rug‑headed Kernes, Which liue like venom, where no venom else But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue.
[780]
And for these great affayres do aske some charge Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables, Whereof our Vncle Gaunt did stand possest.
Yor. How long shall I be patient? Oh how long
[785]
Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong? Not Glousters death, nor Herfords banishment, Nor Gauntes rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs, Nor the preuention of poore Bullingbrooke, About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace
[790]
Haue euer made me sowre may patient cheeke, Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face: I am the last of noble Edwards sonnes, Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first, In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce:
[795]
In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde, Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman, His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he Accomplish'd with the number of thy how rs: But when he frown'd, it was against the French,
[800]
And not against his friends: his noble hand Did win what he did spend: and spent not that Which his triumphant fathers hand had won: His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood, But bloody with the enemies of his kinne:
[805]
Oh Richard, Yorke is too farre gone with greefe, Or else he neuer would compare betweene.
Rich. Why Vncle, What's the matter? Yor. Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not
[810]
I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all: Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford? Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Herford liue? Was not Gaunt iust? and is not Harry true?
[815]
Did not the one deserue o haue an heyre? Is not his heyre a well‑deseruing sonne? Take Herfords rights away, and take from time His Charters, and his customarie rights: Let not to morrow then insue to day,
[820]
Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King But by faire sequence and succession? Now afore God, God forbid I say true, If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right, Call in his Letters Parents that he hath
[825]
By his Atturneyes generall, to sue His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage, You plucke a thousand dangers on your head, You loose a thousand well‑disposed hearts, And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts
[830]
Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke.
Ric. Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands, His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. Yor. Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell, What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell.
[835]
But by bad cou ses may be vnderstood, That their euents can neuer fall out good.
Exit. Rich. Go Bushie to the Earle of Wiltshire streight, Bid him repaire to vs to Ely house, To see this businesse: to morrow next
[840]
We will for Ireland, and 'tis time, I trow: And we create in absence of our selfe Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England: For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well. Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part,
[845]
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.
Flourish. Manet North. Willughby, & Ross. Nor. Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. Ross. And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke. Wil. Barely in title, not in reuennew. Nor. Richly in both, if iustice had her right. Ross.
[850]
My heart is great: but it must break with silence, Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue.
Nor. Nay speake thy mind: & let him ne'r speak more That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme. Wil. Tends that thou'dst speake to th' Du.Duke of Hereford,
[855]
If it be so, out with it boldly man, Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him.
Ross. No good at all that I can do for him, Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him, Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie. Nor.
[860]
Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne, In him a royall Prince, and many moe Of noble blood in this declining Land; The King is not himselfe, but basely led By Flatterers, and what they will informe
[865]
Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all, That will the King seuerely prosecute 'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires. An ink mark follows the end of this line.
Ros. The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde
[870]
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.
Wil. And daily new exactions are deuis'd, As blankes, beneuolences, and I wo not what: But what o'Gods name doth become of this? Nor. Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not.
[875]
But basely yielded vpon comprimize, That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes: More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres.
Ros. The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme. Wil. The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man. Nor.
[880]
Reproach and dissolution hangeth ouer him.
Ros. He hath not monie for these Irish warres: (His burthenous taxations notwithstanding) But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke. Nor. His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:
[885]
But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing, Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme: We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes, And yet we strike not, but securely perish
Ros. We see the very wracke that we must suffer,
[890]
And vnauoyded is the danger now For suffering so the causes of our wracke.
Nor. Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death, I spie life peering: but I dare not say How neere the tidings of our comfort is. Wil.
[895]
Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours
Ros. Be confident to speake Northumberland, We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so, Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold. Nor. Then thus: I haue from Port le Blan An ink mark follows the end of this line.
[900]
A Bay in Britaine, receiu'd intelligence, That Harry Duke of Herford, Rainald Lord Cobham, That late broke from the Duke of Exeter, His brother Archbishop, late of Canterbury, Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir Iohn Rainston,
[905]
Sir Iohn Norberie, Sir Robert Waterton, & Francis Quoint, All these well furnish'd by the Duke of Britaine, With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre Are making hither with all due expedience, And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore:
[910]
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay The first departing of the King for Ireland. If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake, Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing, Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne,
[915]
Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt, And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe, Away with me in poste to Rauenspurgh, But if you faint, as fearing to do so, Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go.
Ros.
[920]
To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y t feare.
Wil. Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. Exeunt.
 

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<?xml version="1.0" encoding="UTF-8"?>
<div type="scene" n="1">
   <head rend="italic center">Actus Secundus. Scena Prima.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 1]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Gaunt, sicke with Yorke.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="620">Will the King come, that I may breath my last</l>
      <l n="621">In wholsome counsell to his vnstaid youth?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="622">Vex not your selfe, nor striue not with your breth,</l>
      <l n="623">For all in vaine comes counsell to his eare.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="624">Oh but (they say) the tongues of dying men</l>
      <l n="625">Inforce attention like deepe harmony;</l>
      <l n="626">Where words are scarse, they are seldome spent in vaine,</l>
      <l n="627">For they breath truth, that breath their words in paine.</l>
      <l n="628">He that no more must say, is listen'd more,</l>
      <l n="629">Then they whom youth and ease haue taught to glose,</l>
      <l n="630">More are mens ends markt, then their liues before,</l>
      <l n="631">The setting Sun, and Musicke is the close</l>
      <l n="632">As the last taste of sweetes, is sweetest last,</l>
      <l n="633">Writ in remembrance, more then things long past;</l>
      <l n="634">Though<hi rend="italic">Richard</hi>my liues counsell would not heare,</l>
      <l n="635">My deaths sad tale, may yet vndeafe his eare.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="636">No, it is stopt with other flatt'ring sounds</l>
      <l n="637">As praises of his state: then there are sound</l>
      <l n="638">Lasciuious Meeters, to whose venom sound</l>
      <l n="639">The open eare of youth doth alwayes listen.</l>
      <l n="640">Report of fashions in proud Italy,</l>
      <l n="641">Whose manners still our tardie apish Nation</l>
      <l n="642">Limpes after in base imitation.</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="643">Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity,</l>
      <l n="644">So it be new, there's no respect how vile,</l>
      <l n="645">That is not quickly buz'd into his eares?</l>
      <l n="646">That all too late comes counsell to be heard,</l>
      <l n="647">Where will doth mutiny with wits regard:</l>
      <l n="648">Direct not him, whose way himselfe will choose,</l>
      <l n="649">Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath wilt thou loose.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gaunt.</speaker>
      <l n="650">Me thinkes I am a Prophet new inspir'd,</l>
      <l n="651">And thus expiring, do foretell of him,</l>
      <l n="652">His rash fierce blaze of Ryot cannot last,</l>
      <l n="653">For violent fires soone burne out themselues,</l>
      <l n="654">Small showres last long, but sodaine stormes are short,</l>
      <l n="655">He tyres betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;</l>
      <l n="656">With eager feeding, food doth choake the feeder:</l>
      <l n="657">Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,</l>
      <l n="658">Consuming meanes soone preyes vpon it selfe.</l>
      <l n="659">This royall Throne of Kings, this sceptred Isle,</l>
      <l n="660">This earth of Maiesty, this seate of Mars,</l>
      <l n="661">This other Eden, demy paradise,</l>
      <l n="662">This Fortresse built by Nature for her selfe,</l>
      <l n="663">Against infection, and the hand of warre:</l>
      <l n="664">This happy breed of men, this little world,</l>
      <l n="665">This precious stone, set in the siluer sea,</l>
      <l n="666">Which serues it in the office of a wall,</l>
      <l n="667">Or as a Moate defensiue to a house,</l>
      <l n="668">Against the enuy of lesse happier Lands,</l>
      <l n="669">This blessed plot, this earth, this Realme, this England,</l>
      <l n="670">This Nurse, this teeming wombe of Royall Kings,</l>
      <l n="671">Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth,</l>
      <l n="672">Renowned for their deeds, as farre from home,</l>
      <l n="673">For Christian seruice, and true Chiualrie,</l>
      <l n="674">As is the sepulcher in stubborne<hi rend="italic">Iury</hi>
      </l>
      <l n="675">Of the Worlds ransome, blessed<hi rend="italic">Maries</hi>Sonne.</l>
      <l n="676">This Land of such deere soules, this deere‑deere Land,</l>
      <l n="677">Deere for her reputation through the world,</l>
      <l n="678">Is now Leas'd out (I dye pronouncing it)</l>
      <l n="679">Like to a Tenement or pelting Farme.</l>
      <l n="680">England bound in with the triumphant sea,</l>
      <l n="681">Whose rocky shore beates backe the enuious siedge</l>
      <l n="682">Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,</l>
      <l n="683">With Inky blottes, and rotten Parchment bonds.</l>
      <l n="684">That England, that was wont to conquer others,</l>
      <l n="685">Hath made a shamefull conquest of it selfe.</l>
      <l n="686">Ah! would the scandall vanish with my life,</l>
      <l n="687">How happy then were my ensuing death?</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter King, Queene, Aumerle, Bushy, Greene,
      <lb/>Bagot, Ros, and Willoughby.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="688">The King is come, deale mildly with his youth,</l>
      <l n="689">For young hot Colts, being rag'd, do rage the more.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-que">
      <speaker rend="italic">Qu.</speaker>
      <l n="690">How fares our noble Vncle Lancaster?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ri.</speaker>
      <l n="691">What comfort man? How ist with aged<hi rend="italic">Gaunt</hi>?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ga.</speaker>
      <l n="692">Oh how that name befits my composition:</l>
      <l n="693">Old<hi rend="italic">Gaunt</hi>indeed, and gaunt in being old:</l>
      <l n="694">Within me greefe hath kept a tedious fast,</l>
      <l n="695">And who abstaynes from meate, that is not gaunt?</l>
      <l n="696">For sleeping England long time haue I watcht,</l>
      <l n="697">Watching breeds leannesse, leannesse is all gaunt.</l>
      <l n="698">The pleasure that some Fathers feede vpon,</l>
      <l n="699">Is strict fast, I meane my Childrens lookes,</l>
      <l n="700">And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt:</l>
      <l n="701">Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue,</l>
      <l n="702">Whose hollow wombe inherits naught but bones.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="703">Can sicke men play so nicely with their names?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="704">No, misery makes sport to mocke it selfe:</l>
      <l n="705">Since thou dost seeke to kill my name in mee,</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0353-0.jpg" n="29"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="706">I mocke my name (great King) to flatter thee.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="707">Should dying men flatter those that liue?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="708">No, no, men liuing flatter those that dye.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="709">Thou now a dying, sayst thou flatter'st me.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="710">Oh no, thou dyest, though I the sicker be.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="711">I am in health, I breath, I see thee ill.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="712">Now he that made me, knowes I see thee ill:</l>
      <l n="713">Ill in my selfe to see, and in thee, seeing ill,</l>
      <l n="714">Thy death‑bed is no lesser then the Land,</l>
      <l n="715">Wherein thou lyest in reputation sicke,</l>
      <l n="716">And thou too care‑lesse patient as thou art,</l>
      <l n="717">Commit'st thy'anointed body to the cure</l>
      <l n="718">Of those Physitians, that first wounded thee.</l>
      <l n="719">A thousand flatterers sit within thy Crowne,</l>
      <l n="720">Whose compasse is no bigger then thy head,</l>
      <l n="721">And yet incaged in so small a Verge,</l>
      <l n="722">The waste is no whit lesser then thy Land:</l>
      <l n="723">Oh had thy Grandsire with a Prophets eye,</l>
      <l n="724">Seene how his sonnes sonne, should destroy his sonnes,</l>
      <l n="725">From forth thy reach he would haue laid thy shame,</l>
      <l n="726">Deposing thee before thou wert possest,</l>
      <l n="727">Which art possest now to depose thy selfe.</l>
      <l n="728">Why (Cosine) were thou Regent of the world,</l>
      <l n="729">It were a shame to let his Land by lease:</l>
      <l n="730">But for thy world enioying but this Land,</l>
      <l n="731">Is it not more then shame, to shame it so?</l>
      <l n="732">Landlord of England art thou, and not King:</l>
      <l n="733">Thy state of Law, is bondslaue to the law,</l>
      <l n="734">And⸺</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="735">And thou, a lunaticke leane‑witted foole,</l>
      <l n="736">Presuming on an Agues priuiledge,</l>
      <l n="737">Dar'st with thy frozen admonition</l>
      <l n="738">Make pale our cheeke, chafing the Royall blood</l>
      <l n="739">With fury, from his natiue residence?</l>
      <l n="740">Now by my Seates right Royall Maiestie,</l>
      <l n="741">Wer't thou not Brother to great<hi rend="italic">Edwards</hi>sonne,</l>
      <l n="742">This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,</l>
      <l n="743">Should run thy had from thy vnreuerent shoulders.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="744">Oh spare me not, my brothers<hi rend="italic">Edwards</hi>sonne,</l>
      <l n="745">For that I was his Father<hi rend="italic">Edwards</hi>sonne:</l>
      <l n="746">That blood already (like the Pellican)</l>
      <l n="747">Thou hast tapt out, and drunkenly carows'd.</l>
      <l n="748">My brother Gloucester, plaine well meaning soule</l>
      <l n="749">(Whom faire befall in heauen 'mongst happy soules)</l>
      <l n="750">May be a president, and witnesse good,</l>
      <l n="751">That thou respect'st not spilling<hi rend="italic">Edwards</hi>blood:</l>
      <l n="752">Ioyne with the present sicknesse that I haue,</l>
      <l n="753">And thy vnkindnesse be like crooked age,</l>
      <l n="754">To crop at once a too‑long wither'd flowre.</l>
      <l n="755">Liue in thy shame, but dye not shame with thee,</l>
      <l n="756">These words heereafter, thy tormentors bee.</l>
      <l n="757">Conuey me to my bed, then to my graue,</l>
      <l n="758">Loue they to liue, that loue and honor haue.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="759">And let them dye, that age and sullens haue,</l>
      <l n="760">For both hast thou, and both become the graue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="761">I do beseech your Maiestie impute his words</l>
      <l n="762">To wayward sicklinesse, and age in him:</l>
      <l n="763">He loues you on my life, and holds you deere</l>
      <l n="764">As<hi rend="italic">Harry</hi>Duke of<hi rend="italic">Herford</hi>, were he heere.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="765">Right, you say true: as<hi rend="italic">Herfords</hi>loue, so his;</l>
      <l n="766">As theirs, so mine: and all be as it is.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Northumberland.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="767">My Liege, olde<hi rend="italic">Gaunt</hi>commends him to your
      <lb/>Maiestie.</l>
   </sp>
   <cb n="2"/>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="768">What sayes he<c rend="italic">?</c>
      </l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="769">Nay nothing, all is said:</l>
      <l n="770">His tongue is now a stringlesse instrument,</l>
      <l n="771">Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="772">Be Yorke the next, that must be bankrupt so,</l>
      <l n="773">Though death be poore, it ends a mortall wo.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="774">The ripest fruit first fals, and so doth he,</l>
      <l n="775">His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:</l>
      <l n="776">So much for that. Now for our Irish warres,</l>
      <l n="777">We must supplant those rough rug‑headed Kernes,</l>
      <l n="778">Which liue like venom, where no venom else</l>
      <l n="779">But onely they, haue priuiledge to liue.</l>
      <l n="780">And for these great affayres do aske some charge</l>
      <l n="781">Towards our assistance, we do seize to vs</l>
      <l n="782">The plate, coine, reuennewes, and moueables,</l>
      <l n="783">Whereof our Vncle<hi rend="italic">Gaunt</hi>did stand possest.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="784">How long shall I be patient? Oh how long</l>
      <l n="785">Shall tender dutie make me suffer wrong?</l>
      <l n="786">Not<hi rend="italic">Glousters</hi>death, nor<hi rend="italic">Herfords</hi>banishment,</l>
      <l n="787">Nor<hi rend="italic">Gauntes</hi>rebukes, nor Englands priuate wrongs,</l>
      <l n="788">Nor the preuention of poore<hi rend="italic">Bullingbrooke</hi>,</l>
      <l n="789">About his marriage, nor my owne disgrace</l>
      <l n="790">Haue euer made me sowre may patient cheeke,</l>
      <l n="791">Or bend one wrinckle on my Soueraignes face:</l>
      <l n="792">I am the last of noble<hi rend="italic">Edwards</hi>sonnes,</l>
      <l n="793">Of whom thy Father Prince of Wales was first,</l>
      <l n="794">In warre was neuer Lyon rag'd more fierce:</l>
      <l n="795">In peace, was neuer gentle Lambe more milde,</l>
      <l n="796">Then was that yong and Princely Gentleman,</l>
      <l n="797">His face thou hast, for euen so look'd he</l>
      <l n="798">Accomplish'd with the number of thy how<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="illegible"
              agent="partiallyInkedType"
              resp="#ES"/>rs:</l>
      <l n="799">But when he frown'd, it was against the French,</l>
      <l n="800">And not against his friends: his noble hand</l>
      <l n="801">Did win what he did spend: and spent not that</l>
      <l n="802">Which his triumphant fathers hand had won:</l>
      <l n="803">His hands were guilty of no kindreds blood,</l>
      <l n="804">But bloody with the enemies of his kinne:</l>
      <l n="805">Oh<hi rend="italic">Richard, Yorke</hi>is too farre gone with greefe,</l>
      <l n="806">Or else he neuer would compare betweene.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="807">Why Vncle,</l>
      <l n="808">What's the matter?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="809">Oh my Liege, pardon me if you please, if not</l>
      <l n="810">I pleas'd not to be pardon'd, am content with all:</l>
      <l n="811">Seeke you to seize, and gripe into your hands</l>
      <l n="812">The Royalties and Rights of banish'd Herford?</l>
      <l n="813">Is not<hi rend="italic">Gaunt</hi>dead? And doth not Herford liue?</l>
      <l n="814">Was not<hi rend="italic">Gaunt</hi>iust? and is not<hi rend="italic">Harry</hi>true?</l>
      <l n="815">Did not the one deserue<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="illegible"
              agent="inkBlot"
              resp="#ES"/>o haue an heyre?</l>
      <l n="816">Is not his heyre a well‑deseruing sonne?</l>
      <l n="817">Take Herfords rights away, and take from time</l>
      <l n="818">His Charters, and his customarie rights:</l>
      <l n="819">Let not to morrow then insue to day,</l>
      <l n="820">Be not thy selfe. For how art thou a King</l>
      <l n="821">But by faire sequence and succession?</l>
      <l n="822">Now afore God, God forbid I say true,</l>
      <l n="823">If you do wrongfully seize Herfords right,</l>
      <l n="824">Call in his Letters Parents that he hath</l>
      <l n="825">By his Atturneyes generall, to sue</l>
      <l n="826">His Liuerie, and denie his offer'd homage,</l>
      <l n="827">You plucke a thousand dangers on your head,</l>
      <l n="828">You loose a thousand well‑disposed hearts,</l>
      <l n="829">And pricke my tender patience to those thoughts</l>
      <l n="830">Which honor and allegeance cannot thinke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="831">Thinke what you will: we seise into our hands,</l>
      <l n="832">His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-yor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Yor.</speaker>
      <l n="833">Ile not be by the while: My Liege farewell,</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0354-0.jpg" n="30"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="834">What will ensue heereof, there's none can tell.</l>
      <l n="835">But by bad cou<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="illegible"
              agent="uninkedType"
              resp="#ES"/>ses may be vnderstood,</l>
      <l n="836">That their euents can neuer fall out good.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="837">Go<hi rend="italic">Bushie</hi>to the Earle of<hi rend="italic">Wiltshire</hi>streight,</l>
      <l n="838">Bid him repaire to vs to<hi rend="italic">Ely</hi>house,</l>
      <l n="839">To see this businesse: to morrow next</l>
      <l n="840">We will for<hi rend="italic">Ireland</hi>, and 'tis time, I trow:</l>
      <l n="841">And we create in absence of our selfe</l>
      <l n="842">Our Vncle Yorke, Lord Gouernor of England:</l>
      <l n="843">For he is iust, and alwayes lou'd vs well.</l>
      <l n="844">Come on our Queene, to morrow must we part,</l>
      <l n="845">Be merry, for our time of stay is short.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">Flourish.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="business">Manet North. Willughby, &amp; Ross.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="846">Well Lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ross.</speaker>
      <l n="847">And liuing too, for now his sonne is Duke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-wil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wil.</speaker>
      <l n="848">Barely in title, not in reuennew.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="849">Richly in both, if iustice had her right.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ross.</speaker>
      <l n="850">My heart is great: but it must break with silence,</l>
      <l n="851">Er't be disburthen'd with a liberall tongue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="852">Nay speake thy mind: &amp; let him ne'r speak more</l>
      <l n="853">That speakes thy words againe to do thee harme.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-wil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wil.</speaker>
      <l n="854">Tends that thou'dst speake to th'<choice>
            <abbr>Du.</abbr>
            <expan>Duke</expan>
         </choice>of Hereford,</l>
      <l n="855">If it be so, out with it boldly man,</l>
      <l n="856">Quicke is mine eare to heare of good towards him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ross.</speaker>
      <l n="857">No good at all that I can do for him,</l>
      <l n="858">Vnlesse you call it good to pitie him,</l>
      <l n="859">Bereft and gelded of his patrimonie.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="860">Now afore heauen, 'tis shame such wrongs are
      <lb/>borne,</l>
      <l n="861">In him a royall Prince, and many moe</l>
      <l n="862">Of noble blood in this declining Land;</l>
      <l n="863">The King is not himselfe, but basely led</l>
      <l n="864">By Flatterers, and what they will informe</l>
      <l n="865">Meerely in hate 'gainst any of vs all,</l>
      <l n="866">That will the King seuerely prosecute</l>
      <l n="867">'Gainst vs, our liues, our children, and our heires.</l>
      <note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="868">The Commons hath he pil'd with greeuous taxes</l>
      <l n="869">And quite lost their hearts: the Nobles hath he finde</l>
      <l n="870">For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-wil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wil.</speaker>
      <l n="871">And daily new exactions are deuis'd,</l>
      <l n="872">As blankes, beneuolences, and I wo<gap extent="1"
              unit="chars"
              reason="illegible"
              agent="partiallyInkedType"
              resp="#ES"/>not what:</l>
      <l n="873">But what o'Gods name doth become of this?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="874">Wars hath not wasted it, for war'd he hath not.</l>
      <l n="875">But basely yielded vpon comprimize,</l>
      <l n="876">That which his Ancestors atchieu'd with blowes:</l>
      <l n="877">More hath he spent in peace, then they in warres.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="878">The Earle of Wiltshire hath the realme in Farme.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-wil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wil.</speaker>
      <l n="879">The Kings growne bankrupt like a broken man.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="880">Reproach and dissolution hangeth ouer him.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="881">He hath not monie for these Irish warres:</l>
      <l n="882">(His burthenous taxations notwithstanding)</l>
      <l n="883">But by the robbing of the banish'd Duke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="884">His noble Kinsman, most degenerate King:</l>
      <l n="885">But Lords, we heare this fearefull tempest sing,</l>
      <l n="886">Yet seeke no shelter to auoid the storme:</l>
      <l n="887">We see the winde sit sore vpon our sailes,</l>
      <l n="888">And yet we strike not, but securely perish</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="889">We see the very wracke that we must suffer,</l>
      <l n="890">And vnauoyded is the danger now</l>
      <l n="891">For suffering so the causes of our wracke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="892">Not so: euen through the hollow eyes of death,</l>
      <l n="893">I spie life peering: but I dare not say</l>
      <l n="894">How neere the tidings of our comfort is.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-wil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wil.</speaker>
      <l n="895">Nay let vs share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="896">Be confident to speake Northumberland,</l>
      <l n="897">We three, are but thy selfe, and speaking so,</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="898">Thy words are but as thoughts, therefore be bold.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-nor">
      <speaker rend="italic">Nor.</speaker>
      <l n="899">Then thus: I haue from Port<hi rend="italic">le Blan</hi>
      </l>
      <note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
      <l n="900">A Bay in<hi rend="italic">Britaine</hi>, receiu'd intelligence,</l>
      <l n="901">That<hi rend="italic">Harry</hi>Duke of<hi rend="italic">Herford, Rainald</hi>Lord<hi rend="italic">Cobham</hi>,</l>
      <l n="902">That late broke from the Duke of<hi rend="italic">Exeter</hi>,</l>
      <l n="903">His brother Archbishop, late of<hi rend="italic">Canterbury</hi>,</l>
      <l n="904">Sir<hi rend="italic">Thomas Erpingham</hi>, Sir<hi rend="italic">Iohn Rainston</hi>,</l>
      <l n="905">Sir<hi rend="italic">Iohn Norberie</hi>, Sir<hi rend="italic">Robert Waterton</hi>, &amp;<hi rend="italic">Francis Quoint</hi>,</l>
      <l n="906">All these well furnish'd by the Duke of<hi rend="italic">Britaine</hi>,</l>
      <l n="907">With eight tall ships, three thousand men of warre</l>
      <l n="908">Are making hither with all due expedience,</l>
      <l n="909">And shortly meane to touch our Northerne shore:</l>
      <l n="910">Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay</l>
      <l n="911">The first departing of the King for Ireland.</l>
      <l n="912">If then we shall shake off our slauish yoake,</l>
      <l n="913">Impe out our drooping Countries broken wing,</l>
      <l n="914">Redeeme from broaking pawne the blemish'd Crowne,</l>
      <l n="915">Wipe off the dust that hides our Scepters gilt,</l>
      <l n="916">And make high Maiestie looke like it selfe,</l>
      <l n="917">Away with me in poste to<hi rend="italic">Rauenspurgh</hi>,</l>
      <l n="918">But if you faint, as fearing to do so,</l>
      <l n="919">Stay, and be secret, and my selfe will go.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ros">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ros.</speaker>
      <l n="920">To horse, to horse, vrge doubts to them y<c rend="superscript">t</c>feare.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-wil">
      <speaker rend="italic">Wil.</speaker>
      <l n="921">Hold out my horse, and I will first be there.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt.</stage>
</div>

        
        

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