Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd hours,
And added years to his fhort banishment,
He fhould have had a volume of farewells;
But, fince it would not, he had none of me.

K. Rich. He is our coufin, coufin; but 'tis doubt,
When time fhall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinfman come to fee his friends.
Ourself, and Bufhy, Bagot here, and Green,
Obferv'd his courtship to the common people
How he did feem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy:

What reverence he did throw away on flaves;
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of fimiles,
And patient under-bearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyfter-wench;
A brace of dray-men bid, God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his fupple knee,
With-Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;-
As were our England in reverfion his,
And he our fubjects' next degree in hope.

Green. Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.

Now for the rebels, which ftand out in Ireland-
Expedient manage must be made, my liege;
Ere further leifure yield thém further means
For their advantage, and your highness' lofs.
K. Rich. We will ourfelf in perfon to this war.
And, for our coffers with too great a court,
And liberal largefs, are grown fomewhat light,
We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm;
The revenue whereof fhall furnish us

For our affairs in hand: if that come fhort,

Our fubftitutes at home fhall have blank charters;
Whereto, when they fhall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large fums of gold,
And fend them after to fupply our wants;
For we will make for Ireland presently.

Enter

Enter Busby.

K. Rich. Bufhy, what news?

Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous fick, my lord, Suddenly taken; and hath fent post-haste

To intreat your majefty to vifit him.

K. Rich. Where lies he?

Busby. At Ely-house.

K. Kich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind,

To help him to his grave immediately!

The lining of his coffers fhall make coats
To deck our foldiers for thefe Irifh wars.-
Come, gentlemen, let's all go vifit him:

Pray heaven, we may make hafte, and come too late!

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

London.

A room in Ely-bouse.

Gaunt brought in, fick; with the duke of York.

GAUNT.

ILL the king come? that I may breathe
laft

WILL

In wholesome counsel to his unftay'd youth.

my

York. Vex not yourself, nor ftrive not with your breath;

For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Gaunt. Oh, but, they fay, the tongues of dying men Inforce attention, like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are feldom spent in vain; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain,

He,

He, that no more must say, is liften'd more,

Than they, whom youth and ease have taught to glofe,

More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before The setting fun, and mufic at the close,

As the last taste of fweets, is sweetest last;

Writ in remembrance, more than things long paft.
Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear,
My death's fad tale may yet undeaf his ear..

York. No; it is stopt with other flattering charms,
As praises of his state: then there are found
Lafcivious meeters, to whofe venom'd found
The open ear of youth doth always listen :
Report of fashions in proud Italy 2;
Whofe manners ftill our tardy, apish nation
Limps after, in bafe imitation.

Where doth the world thruft 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 3.
Direct not him, whofe way himself will chufe 4;
'Tis breath thou lack'ft, and that breath wilt thou lose.
Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new-infpir'd;
And, thus expiring, do foretell of him:-
His 5 rafh, fierce blaze of riot cannot laft

For violent fires foon burn out themselves.

Small showers last long, but fudden storms are short;

2 Report of fashions in proud Italy;] Our author, who gives to all nations the customs of England, and to all ages the manners of his own, has charged the times of Richard with a folly not perhaps known then, but very frequent in Shakespeare's time, and much lamented by the wifeft and beft of our ancestors. JOHNSON.

3 Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.] Where the will rebels against the notices of the understanding. JOHNSON. whofe way himself will chufe ;] Do not attempt to guide him who, whatever thou shalt fay, will take his own courfe.

4

5 -ra- That is, hafty, violent. JOHNSON.,

JOHNSON.

He

He tires betimes that fpurs too faft betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choak the feeder.
Light vanity, infatiate cormorant,

Confuming means, foon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this fcepter'd isle,
This earth of majefty, this feat of Mars,
This other Eden, demy Paradife;

This fortrefs, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious stone fet in the filver-fea,
Which ferves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of lefs happier lands 7;

This bleffed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd for their breed, and famous by their birth,
Renowned for their deeds, as far from home
For Christian service, and true chivalry,
As is the fepulchre in stubborn Jury

6 Against infection] I once fufpected that for infection we might read invafion; but the copies all agree, and I fuppofe Shakespeare meant to say, that iflanders are fecured by their fituation both from war and peftilence. JOHNSON.

7

lefs happier lands;] So read all the editions, except Hanmer's, which has lefs happy. I believe Shakespeare, from the habit of faying more happier according to the custom of his time, inadvertently writ less happier. JOHNSON.

Fear'd for their breed, and famous by their birth,] The first edition in 4to, 1598, reads,

Fear'd by their breed, and famous for their birth.

The fecond 4to, in 1615, .

Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth.

The first folio, though printed from the fecond quarto, reads as the first. The particles in this author feem often to have been printed by chance. Perhaps the passage, which appears a little difordered, may be regulated thus:

royal kings,

Fear'd for their breed, and famous for their birth,
For Chriftian fervice, and true chivalry;

Renowned for their deeds as far from home

As is the fepulchre. JOHNSON.

Of

Of the world's ransom, bleffed Mary's fon;
This land of fuch dear fouls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I die, pronouncing it)
Like to a tenement, or pelting farm.
England, bound in with the triumphant fea,
Whofe rocky fhore beats back the envious fiege
Of watry Neptune, is now bound in with fhame,
With inky blots, and rotten parchment-bonds:
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a fhameful conqueft of itself.
Ah! would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my enfuing death!

Enter king Richard, queen, Aumerle, Busby, Green,
Bagot, Rofs, 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 noble uncle, Lancaster? King. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt?

Gaunt. Oh, how that name befits my compofition!
Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old:
Within me grief hath kept a tedious faft;

And who abitains from meat, that is not gaunt?
For fleeping England long time have I watch'd;
Watching breeds leannefs, leannefs is all gaunt:
The pleasure, that fome fathers feed upon,
Is my ftrict faft; I mean, my childrens looks;
And, therein fafting, thou haft made me gaunt:
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.
K. Rich. Can fick men play fo nicely with their
names?

Gaunt. No, mifery makes fport to mock itself:
Since thou doft feek to kill my name in me,
I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those that live?
Gaunt. Oh, no; men living flatter thofe that die.

K. Rich