Gau.
Will the King come? that I may breathe my last
In wholesome counsel to his unstaied youth.

York.
Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Gau.
O, but they say, the tongues of dying men
Enforce attention, like deep harmony.
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.
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard.

Gau.
Methinks, I am a prophet new inspired;
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves.

Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
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,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it),
Like to a tenement, or pelting^{2 note} farm.
This dear, dear land, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots,^{3 note} and rotten parchment bonds.^{4 note}
O, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death! [Distant Trumpets.

York.
The king is come: deal mildly with his youth Enter King Richard, Bushy, Green, Bagot, Ross(C)8Q0133, and Willoughby.(D)8Q0134

K. Rich.
How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster?
What comfort, man? How is't with aged Gaunt?

Gau.
Ill in myself, and in thee seeing ill.
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame;
Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd.
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
And thou—

K. Rich.
&wblank;s lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague's privilege,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood,
With fury, from his native residence?
Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders.

Gau.
O, spare me not, my brother Edward's son,
For that I was his father Edward's son.
Join with the present sickness that I have;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!—
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!— [Faints.

York.
'Beseech your majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him:
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here. [Gaunt dies.

King R.
Right; you say true: as Hereford's love, so his:
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.

North.
My liege, old Guant commends him to your majesty.

K. Rich.
What says he now?

North.
Nay nothing; all is said:
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent.

K. Rich.
The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth he;
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
So much for that.—Now for our Irish wars:(E)8Q0135
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns;^{5 note}
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.

York.
O, my liege,
Pardon me, if you please; if not, I pleas'd
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford live?

If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.

K. Rich.
Think what you will; we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money. and his lands.(F)8Q0136

York.
I'll not be by, the while: My liege, farewell:
What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell. [Exit York

K. Rich.
Go, Bushy,^{6 note} to the Earl of Wiltshire straight;
Bid him repair to us to Ely House,
To see this business: To morrow next
We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow;
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York, lord governor of England,(G)8Q0137
For he is just, and always lov'd us well.—
Come on, my lords: to-morrow must we part;
Be merry, for our time of stay is short. [Exeunt King, Green, Bushy, and Bagot.

North.
Now, afore heaven, 'tis shame such wrongs are borne,
The king is not himself, but basely led
By flatterers; and what they will inform,
Merely in hate, 'gainst any of us all,
That will the king severely prosecute
'Gainst us, our wives, our children, and our heirs.

Wil.
The king's grown bankrupt, like a broken man.

North.
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him.

Ross.
He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding,
But by the robbing of the banish'd duke.

North.
His noble kinsman: most degenerate king!
But, even through the hollow eyes of death,
I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is.

Wil.
Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours.

Ross.
Be confident to speak, Northumberland:

We three are but thyself; and speaking so,
Thy words are but our thoughts; therefore, be bold.

North.
Then thus:—I have from Port le Blanc, a bay
In Britanny, receiv'd intelligence,
That Harry of Hereford,
Well furnished by the Duke of Bretagne,
Is making hither with all due expedience,^{7 note}
And shortly means to touch our northern shore:(H)8Q0138
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Away, with me, in post to Ravenspurg:
But if you faint, as fearing to do so,
Stay, and be secret, and myself will go.

Ross.
To horse! to horse! urge doubts to them that fear.

Wil.
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. [Exeunt.

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