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And, for my heart disdained that my tougue
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but'tis doubt,
friendsAs were our England in reversion his, And be 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 yield them further means, For their advantage, and your highness' loss.
K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. Aad, fort 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,
Enter Bushy. Bashy, what news? Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my
K. Rich. Where lies he?
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 unstaied youth. York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your
breath; For all in vain comes counsel to bis ear.
Gaunt. 0, but they say, the tongues of dying
men Enforce attention, like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldorn 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 meu's ends mark'd, than their lives before:
The setting sun, and musick 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 his state: then, there are found Lascivious metres; to whose vepom 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
He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes;
Enter King Richard, 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 noble uncle. Lancaster?
names ? Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to nuock 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, pow a dying, say'st-thou flat
ter'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.
• Lean, thin.