GAUNT. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
BOLINGBROKE. Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
GAUNT. What is six winters? They are quickly gone.
BOLINGBROKE. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.
GAUNT. Call it a travel that thou tak"st for pleasure.
BOLINGBROKE. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.
GAUNT. The sullen pa.s.sage of thy weary steps Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return.
BOLINGBROKE. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make Will but remember me what a deal of world I wander from the jewels that I love.
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood To foreign pa.s.sages; and in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else But that I was a journeyman to grief?
GAUNT. All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus: There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not the King did banish thee, But thou the King. Woe doth the heavier sit Where it perceives it is but faintly home.
Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, And not the King exil"d thee; or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com"st.
Suppose the singing birds musicians, The gra.s.s whereon thou tread"st the presence strew"d, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delightful measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
BOLINGBROKE. O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appet.i.te By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer"s heat?
O, no! the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
Fell sorrow"s tooth doth never rankle more Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore.
GAUNT. Come, come, my son, I"ll bring thee on thy way.
Had I thy youtli and cause, I would not stay.
BOLINGBROKE. Then, England"s ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
Where"er I wander, boast of this I can: Though banish"d, yet a trueborn English man. Exeunt
SCENE 4.
London. The court
Enter the KING, with BAGOT and GREEN, at one door; and the DUKE OF AUMERLE at another
KING RICHARD. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way?
AUMERLE. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next high way, and there I left him.
KING RICHARD. And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
AUMERLE. Faith, none for me; except the north-east 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.
KING RICHARD. What said our cousin when you parted with him?
AUMERLE. "Farewell."
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 length"ned hours And added years to his short banishment, He should have had a volume of farewells; But since it would not, he had none of me.
KING RICHARD. He is our cousin, cousin; but "tis doubt, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, Observ"d his courtship to the common people; How he did seem to dive into their hearts With humble and familiar courtesy; What reverence he did throw away on slaves, Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles And patient underbearing of his fortune, As "twere to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; A brace of draymen bid G.o.d speed him well And had the tribute of his supple knee, 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 these thoughts!
Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland, Expedient manage must be made, my liege, Ere further leisure yicld them further means For their advantage and your Highness" loss.
KING RICHARD. We will ourself in person to this war; And, for our coffers, with too great a court And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light, We are enforc"d to farm our royal realm; The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand. If that come short, Our subst.i.tutes at home shall have blank charters; Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, And send them after to supply our wants; For we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter BUSHY
Bushy, what news?
BUSHY. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, Suddenly taken; and hath sent poste-haste To entreat your Majesty to visit him.
KING RICHARD. Where lies he?
BUSHY. At Ely House.
KING RICHARD. Now put it, G.o.d, in the physician"s mind To help him to his grave immediately!
The lining of his coffers shall make coats To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.
Come, gentlemen, let"s all go visit him.
Pray G.o.d we may make haste, and come too late!
ALL. Amen. Exeunt
> ACT II. SCENE I.
London. Ely House
Enter JOHN OF GAUNT, sick, with the DUKE OF YORK, etc.
GAUNT. Will the King come, that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstaid 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 glose; More are men"s ends mark"d than their lives before.
The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last, Writ in remembrance more than things long past.
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 whose taste the wise are fond, Lascivious metres, to whose venom sound The open ear of youth doth always listen; Report of fashions in proud Italy, Whose manners still our tardy apish nation Limps after in base imitation.
Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity- So it be new, there"s no respect how vile- That is not quickly buzz"d into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard Where will doth mutiny with wit"s regard.
Direct not him whose way himself will choose.
"Tis breath thou lack"st, and that breath wilt thou lose.
GAUNT. Methinks I am a prophet new inspir"d, And thus expiring do foretell of him: His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last, For violent fires soon burn out themselves; Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes; With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder; Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scept"red isle, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, This other Eden, demi-paradise, This fortress built by Nature for herself Against infection and the hand of war, This happy breed of men, this little world, This precious stone set in the silver sea, Which serves it in the office of a wall, Or as a moat defensive to a house, Against the envy of less happier lands; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Fear"d by their breed, and famous by their birth, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, For Christian service and true chivalry, As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry Of the world"s ransom, blessed Mary"s Son; This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Dear for her reputation through the world, Is now leas"d out-I die p.r.o.nouncing it- Like to a tenement or pelting farm.
England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Whose rocky sh.o.r.e beats back the envious siege Of wat"ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame, With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds; That England, that was wont to conquer others, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life, How happy then were my ensuing death!
Enter KING and QUEEN, AUMERLE, BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, Ross, and WILLOUGHBY
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 n.o.ble uncle Lancaster?
KING RICHARD. 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 an gaunt.
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon Is my strict fast-I mean my children"s looks; And therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt.
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.