SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the King's Castle. Enter King RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN; K. Rich. We did observe. - Cousin Aumerle, Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the northeast wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance, Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. K. Rich. What said our cousin, when with him? Aum. Farewell: you parted And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief, That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd hours, And added years to his short banishment, K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 'tis doubt, What reverence he did throw away on slaves: Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, With Thanks my countrymen, my loving friends; As were our England in reversion his, And he our subjects' next degree in hope. Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go thoughts. these Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland; And liberal largess For our affairs in hand: If that come short, Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; Bushy, what news? Enter BUSHY. Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord; Suddenly taken; and hath sent post-haste, K. Rich. Where lies he? Bushy. At Ely-house. K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind, 3 Because. To help him to his grave immediately! [Exeunt. ACT THE SECOND. SCENE I. London. A Room in Ely-house. GAUNT on a Couch; the Duke of YORK, and others standing by him. Gaunt. Will the king come? that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstayed youth. York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath: For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of dying men Enforce attention, like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain: For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. He, that no more must say, is listen'd more Than they whom youth and ease have taught to More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before: 4 Flatter. Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds, As, praises of his state: then, there are found Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, Direct not him, whose way himself will choose; Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; And thus, expiring, do foretell of him: His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last: Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, This fortress, built by nature for herself, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it,) 5 Like to a tenement or pelting farm: England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Enter King RICHARD, and Queen; AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, Ross, and WIL LOUGHBY. York. The king is come: deal mildly with his youth; For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster? K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt? Gaunt. O, how that name befits my composition Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old: Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt? For sleeping England long time have I watch'd; Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt : The pleasure that some fathers feed upon, Is my strict fast, I mean › Paltry. my children's looks; 6 Lean, thin. |