Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way: Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! SCENE IV. [Exeunt. The same. A Room in the King's Castle. Enter King RICH- K. Rich. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerle, K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears were shed? Aum. Faith, none by 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. K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted with him? Aum. 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. He should have had a volume of farewells; But, since it would not, he had none of me. K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, KING RICHARD II. As 'twere to banish their affects with him. thoughts. ACT 1. go these Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ;- 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 To entreat your majesty to visit him. K. Rich. Where lies he? Bushy. At Ely-house. K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his 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 God, we may make haste, and come too late! [Exeunt. [4] To illustrate this phrase, it should be remembered that courtsying (the act of reverence now confined to women) was anciently practised by men., STEEVENS. ACT II. 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 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 : York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds,. Whose manners still our tardy apish nation Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, And thus, expiring, do foretell of him ; His rash, fierce blaze of riot cannot last; [4] 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 wisest and best of our ancestors. JOHNSON. [5] Where the will rebels against the notices of the understanding. JOHNSON. [6] Do not attempt to guide him. who, whatever thou shalt say, will take his own course. JOHNSON. For violent fires soon burn out themselves: Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short; With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder : Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. This fortress, built by nature for herself, Against the envy of less happier lands; This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, Enter King RICHARD and QUEEN; AUMERLE, BUSHY, York. The king is come: deal mildly with his youth; For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage the more. [7] I once suspected that for infection we might read invasion; but the copies all agree, and I suppose Shakespeare meant to say, that islanders are secured by their situation both from war and pestilence. JOHNSON. [8] Shakespeare, as Mr. Walpole suggests to me, has deviated from historical truth in the introduction of Richard's queen as a woman in the present piece 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-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. K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their names? Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: Since thou dost seek 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. No, no; men living flatter those that die. K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st-thou flatter'st me. Gaunt. Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker be. K. Rich, I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I see thee ill. Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land, Wherein thou liest in reputation sick : And thou, too careless patient as thou art, Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure Of those physicians that first wounded thee: A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head ; And yet, incaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. 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; for Anne his first wife, was dead before the play commences, and Isabella, his se coud wife, was a child at the time of his death. MALONE. |