# Richard II (1921) Yale/Text/Act I

Notes originally placed at the bottom of each page appear below, following Act I. Where these notes gloss a word in the text, the gloss can also be found by hovering over the text.
Where these notes refer to an end note (cf. n. = confer notam; "consult note"), a link to the accompanying end note is provided from the Footnotes section. The end notes accompanying Act I begin on page 107 of the original volume.
Layout 2
ACT FIRST
Scene One
[Windsor. Within the Castle Walls]
Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants.
K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, 4 Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
Gaunt. I have, my liege.
K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, 8 If he appeal the duke on ancient malice, Or worthily, as a good subject should, On some known ground of treachery in him?
Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument, 12 On some apparent danger seen in him Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.
K. Rich. Then call them to our presence: face to face, ​And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear 16 The accuser and the accused freely speak: [Exeunt some Attendants.] High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray.
Boling. Many years of happy days befall 20 My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!
Mow. Each day still better other's happiness; Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Add an immortal title to your crown! 24
K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, As well appeareth by the cause you come; Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object 28 Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
Boling. First,—heaven be the record to my speech!— In devotion of a subject's love, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, 32 And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence. Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak 36 My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor and a miscreant; Too good to be so and too bad to live, 40 Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. Once more, the more to aggravate the note, ​With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; 44 And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, What my tongue speaks, my right drawn sword may prove.
Mow. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, 48 The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain; The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this. Yet can I not of such tame patience boast 52 As to be hush'd and naught at all to say. First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; Which else would post until it had return'd 56 These terms of treason doubled down his throat. Setting aside his high blood's royalty, And let him be no kinsman to my liege, I do defy him, and I spit at him; 60 Call him a slanderous coward and a villain: Which to maintain I would allow him odds, And meet him, were I tied to run afoot Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps, 64 Or any other ground inhabitable, Wherever Englishman durst set his foot. Meantime let this defend my loyalty: By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. 68
Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Disclaiming here the kindred of the king; And lay aside my high blood's royalty, Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. 72 If guilty dread have left thee so much strength As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop: ​By that, and all the rites of knighthood else, Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, 76 What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise.
Mow. I take it up; and by that sword I swear, Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, I'll answer thee in any fair degree, 80 Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: And when I mount, alive may I not light, If I be traitor or unjustly fight!
K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? 84 It must be great that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Boling. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles 88 In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides I say and will in battle prove, 92 Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge That ever was survey'd by English eye, That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land, 96 Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Further I say and further will maintain Upon his bad life to make all this good, That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, 100 Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, And consequently, like a traitor coward, ​Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood: Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, 104 Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, To me for justice and rough chastisement; And, by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. 108
K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars! Thomas of Norfolk, what sayst thou to this?
Mow. O! let my sovereign turn away his face And bid his ears a little while be deaf, 112 Till I have told this slander of his blood How God and good men hate so foul a liar.
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears: Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,— 116 As he is but my father's brother's son,— Now, by my sceptre's awe I make a vow, Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize 120 The unstooping firmness of my upright soul. He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.
Mow. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, 124 Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers; The other part reserv'd I by consent, 128 For that my sovereign liege was in my debt Upon remainder of a dear account, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen. ​Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death, 132 I slew him not; but to mine own disgrace Neglected my sworn duty in that case. For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster, The honourable father to my foe, 136 Once did I lay an ambush for your life, A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul; But ere I last receiv'd the sacrament I did confess it, and exactly begg'd 140 Your Grace's pardon, and I hope I had it. This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd, It issues from the rancour of a villain, A recreant and most degenerate traitor; 144 Which in myself I boldly will defend, And interchangeably hurl down my gage Upon this overweening traitor's foot, To prove myself a loyal gentleman 148 Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. In haste whereof, most heartily I pray Your highness to assign our trial day.
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me; 152 Let's purge this choler without letting blood: This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision: Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed, 156 Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. Good uncle, let this end where it begun; We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age: 160 ​Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his.
Gaunt. When, Harry, when? Obedience bids I should not bid again.
K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. 164
Mow. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot. My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: The one my duty owes; but my fair name,— Despite of death, that lives upon my grave,— 168 To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here, Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear, The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood 172 Which breath'd this poison.
K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame.
Mow. Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame, And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, 176 The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation; that away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest 180 Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done: Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; 184 In that I live and for that will I die.
K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage: do you begin.
Boling. O God, defend my soul from such deep sin! ​Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight, 188 Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 192 The slavish motive of recanting fear, And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.
Exit Gaunt.
K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command: 196 Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day: There shall your swords and lances arbitrate 200 The swelling difference of your settled hate: Since we cannot atone you, we shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry. Marshal, command our officers-at-arms 204 Be ready to direct these home alarms. Exeunt.
Scene Two
[London. A Room in the Duke of Lancaster's Palace]
Enter Gaunt and Duchess of Gloucester.
Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Woodstock's blood Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, To stir against the butchers of his life. ​But since correction lieth in those hands 4 Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. 8
Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, 12 Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, 16 One vial full of Edward's sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most royal root, Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all vaded, 20 By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe. Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine: that bed, that womb, That metal, that self mould, that fashion'd thee Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and breath'st, 24 Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent In some large measure to thy father's death In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, Who was the model of thy father's life. 28 Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair: In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: 32 That which in mean men we entitle patience ​Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death. 36
Gaunt. God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, His deputy anointed in his sight, Hath caus'd his death; the which if wrongfully, Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift 40 An angry arm against his minister.
Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself?
Gaunt. To God, the widow's champion and defence.
Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. 44 Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: O! sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast. 48 Or if misfortune miss the first career, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom That they may break his foaming courser's back, And throw the rider headlong in the lists, 52 A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife With her companion grief must end her life.
Gaunt. Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry. 56 As much good stay with thee as go with me!
Duch. Yet one word more. Grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: I take my leave before I have begun, 60 For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. Lo! this is all: nay, yet depart not so; ​Though this be all, do not so quickly go; 64 I shall remember more. Bid him—ah, what?— With all good speed at Plashy visit me. Alack! and what shall good old York there see But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, 68 Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? And what hear there for welcome but my groans? Therefore commend me; let him not come there, To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere. 72 Desolate, desolate will I hence, and die: The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
Exeunt.
Scene Three
[Open Space, near Coventry. Lists set out, and a Throne]
Enter Marshal and Aumerle.
Mar. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?
Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. 4
Aum. Why, then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his majesty's approach.
K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms: 8 Ask him his name, and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his cause.
Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who thou art, And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in arms, 12 Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel. Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thine oath; As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!
Mow. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, 16 Who hither come engaged by my oath,— Which God defend a knight should violate!— Both to defend my loyalty and truth To God, my king, and his succeeding issue, 20 Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me; And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, To prove him, in defending of myself, A traitor to my God, my king, and me: 24 And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! [He takes his seat.]
The trumpets sound. Enter Duke of Hereford, appellant, in armour.
K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war; 28 And formally, according to our law, Depose him in the justice of his cause.
Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st thou hither, Before King Richard in his royal lists? 32 ​Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, 36 To prove by God's grace and my body's valour, In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he's a traitor foul and dangerous, To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me: 40 And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, Except the marshal and such officers 44 Appointed to direct these fair designs.
Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his majesty: For Mowbray and myself are like two men 48 That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; Then let us take a ceremonious leave And loving farewell of our several friends.
Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness, 52 And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.
K. Rich. We will descend and fold him in our arms. Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this royal fight! 56 Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
Boling. O! let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear. 60 As confident as is the falcon's flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My loving lord, I take my leave of you; ​Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; 64 Not sick, although I have to do with death, But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. Lo! as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: 68 O thou, the earthly author of my blood, Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up To reach at victory above my head, 72 Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers, And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, 76 Even in the lusty haviour of his son.
Gaunt. God in thy good cause make thee prosperous! Be swift like lightning in the execution; And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, 80 Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy: Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
Boling. Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive! 84 [He takes his seat.]
Mow. [Rising.] However God or fortune cast my lot, There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne, A loyal, just, and upright gentleman. Never did captive with a freer heart 88 Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, ​More than my dancing soul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary. 92 Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, Take from my mouth the wish of happy years. As gentle and as jocund as to jest, Go I to fight: truth has a quiet breast. 96
K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. Order the trial, marshal, and begin.
[The King and the Lords take their seats.]
Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 100 Receive thy lance; and God defend the right!
Boling. [Rising.] Strong as a tower in hope, I cry 'amen.'
Mar. [To an Officer.] Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.
First Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, 104 Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, On pain to be found false and recreant, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, A traitor to his God, his king, and him; 108 And dares him to set forward to the fight.
Sec. Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himself and to approve 112 Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal; Courageously and with a free desire, Attending but the signal to begin. 116
Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants. A charge sounded. Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.
K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again: 120 Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound While we return these dukes what we decree.
A long flourish.
[To the Combatants.] Draw near, And list what with our council we have done. 124 For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd With that dear blood which it hath fostered; And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' swords; 128 And for we think the eagle-winged pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating envy, set on you To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle 132 Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; Which so rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums, With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, 136 Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace And make us wade even in our kindred's blood: Therefore, we banish you our territories: You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, 140 Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields, Shall not regreet our fair dominions, ​But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
Boling. Your will be done: this must my comfort be, 144 That sun that warms you here shall shine on me; And those his golden beams to you here lent Shall point on me and gild my banishment.
K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, 148 Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: The sly slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile; The hopeless word of 'never to return' 152 Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
Mow. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: A dearer merit, not so deep a maim 156 As to be cast forth in the common air, Have I deserved at your highness' hands. The language I have learn'd these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo; 160 And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp, Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up, Or, being open, put into his hands 164 That knows no touch to tune the harmony: Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips; And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance 168 Is made my gaoler to attend on me. I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, Too far in years to be a pupil now: What is thy sentence then but speechless death, 172 ​Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate: After our sentence plaining comes too late.
Mow. Then, thus I turn me from my country's light, 176 To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee. Lay on our royal sword your banish' d hands; Swear by the duty that you owe to God— 180 Our part therein we banish with yourselves— To keep the oath that we administer: You never shall,—so help you truth and God!— Embrace each other's love in banishment; 184 Nor never look upon each other's face; Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile This low'ring tempest of your home-bred hate; Nor never by advised purpose meet 188 To plot, contrive, or complot any ill 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
Boling. I swear.
Mow. And I, to keep all this. 192
Boling. Norfolk, so far, as to mine enemy:— By this time, had the king permitted us, One of our souls had wander'd in the air, Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, 196 As now our flesh is banish'd from this land: Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm; Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul. 200
Mow. No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor, My name be blotted from the book of life, And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! ​But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know; 204 And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray; Save back to England, all the worlds my way. Exit.
K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes 208 I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect Hath from the number of his banish'd years Pluck'd four away.—[To Bolingbroke.] Six frozen winters spent, Return with welcome home from banishment. 212
Boling. How long a time lies in one little word! Four lagging winters and four wanton springs End in a word: such is the breath of kings.
Gaunt. I thank my liege, that in regard of me 216 He shortens four years of my son's exile; But little vantage shall I reap thereby: For, ere the six years that he hath to spend Can change their moons and bring their times about, 220 My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age and endless night; My inch of taper will be burnt and done, And blindfold death not let me see my son. 224
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst give: Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow; 228 Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, ​But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; Thy word is current with him for my death, But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. 232
K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave: Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower?
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. 236 You urg'd me as a judge; but I had rather You would have bid me argue like a father. O! had it been a stranger, not my child, To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: 240 A partial slander sought I to avoid, And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. Alas! I look'd when some of you should say, I was too strict to make mine own away; 244 But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue Against my will to do myself this wrong.
K. Rich. Cousin, farewell; and uncle, bid him so: Six years we banish him, and he shall go. 248
Exit [King Richard]. Flourish.
Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know, From where you do remain let paper show.
Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, As far as land will let me, by your side. 252
Gaunt. O! to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?
Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongue's office should be prodigal 256 To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly gone. 260
Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.
Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.
Boling. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage. 264
Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return.
Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make 268 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 passages, and in the end, 272 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. 276 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, 280 Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, And not the king exil'd thee; or suppose Devouring pestilence hangs in our air, 284 ​And thou art flying to a fresher clime. Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st. Suppose the singing birds musicians, 288 The grass 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 292 The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
Boling. O! who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite 296 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 300 Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way. 304 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! Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, 308 Though banish'd, yet a true-born Englishman.
Exeunt.
Scene Four
[London. A Room in the King's Castle]
Enter the King with Bushy, &c., at one door, and the Lord Aumerle at another.
K. Rich. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way?
Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next highway, and there I left him. 4
K. Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
Aum. Faith, none for me; except the northeast wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the sleeping rheum, and so by chance 8 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 12 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 lengthen'd hours 16 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.
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, 20 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, 24 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 28 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 God speed him well, 32 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. 36
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 40 For their advantage and your highness' loss.
K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. And, for our coffers with too great a court And liberal largess are grown somewhat light, 44 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 substitutes at home shall have blank charters; 48 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. 52
Enter Bushy.
Bushy, what news?
Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord, Suddenly taken, and hath sent post-haste To entreat your majesty to visit him. 56
K. Rich. Where lies he?
Bushy. At Ely House.
K. Rich. Now, put it, God, in his physician's mind To help him to his grave immediately! 60 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. 64
[All.] Amen. Exeunt.
Footnotes to Act I
Scene One
​Scene One; cf. n. 2 band: bond 3 Hereford; cf. n. 4 appeal: accusation; cf. n. 9 appeal: accuse, challenge 12 argument: topic ​18 High-stomach'd: hot-tempered 23 hap: fortune 32 Tendering: holding tenderly 34 appellant; cf. n. 43 aggravate the note: intensify the stigma ​56 post: hasten 59 Cf. n. 63 tied: obliged 65 inhabitable: uninhabitable 69 gage: pledge (here, his hood) ​81 design: enterprise 85 inherit us: put us in possession of 88 nobles: gold coins worth 6s. 8d. 89 lendings: money advances on their pay 90 lewd: base 91 injurious: malicious 101 Suggest: instigate ​109 pitch: height 120 partialize: render partial 126 receipt: money 130 Upon remainder: for the balance dear: heavy 131 Cf. n. ​138 trespass: offense 140 exactly: in express terms 146 interchangeably: reciprocally 150 whereof: towards this event 153 choler; cf. n. 156 conclude: come to an understanding ​162 When: exclamation of impatience 164 boot: help for it 170 impeach'd: disparaged baffled; cf. n. 174 lions; cf. n. ​189 height: high rank 192 sound . . . parle; cf. n. 193 motive: moving organ, i.e., tongue 199 Saint Lambert's day: September 17 202 atone: reconcile, make 'at one' 203 design: indicate 204 officers-at-arms; cf. n. 205 alarms: disturbances
Scene Two
​1 Woodstock's blood; cf. n. on I. i. and App. F 2 solicit: urge exclaims: exclamations ​4 correction: punishment 6 quarrel: grievance 11 seven sons; cf. n. 14, 15 Cf. n. 20 vaded: faded 23 metal: substance self: very same 28 model: exact image 33 mean: of low birth ​37 God's substitute: the king 46 fell: fierce 49 career: charge in a tourney 53 caitiff: contemptible recreant; cf. n. cousin; cf. n. 54 sometimes: former, 'late' ​66 Plashy: her seat in Essex 68 unfurnish'd: without hangings 69 offices: kitchens and other service rooms 71 commend me: remember me to him
Scene Three
​3 sprightfully: with high spirit 6 S. d. Flourish: a triumphant trumpet call ​10 swear him in: make him take oath as to 18 defend: forbid 30 Depose: examine under oath ​59 profane: shed profanely ​67 regreet: salute 69 thou: Gaunt 70 regenerate: born again 73 proof: impenetrability 75 waxen: become soft as wax 76 furbish: brighten 77 lusty: vigorous, manly haviour: conduct 84 to thrive: help me to succeed 90 enfranchisement: release ​98 couched: lying 99 Order: take charge of 106 On pain to be: under penalty of being 112 approve: prove 116 Attending: awaiting ​118 warder: ceremonial baton 121 Withdraw; cf. n. 122 return: say in answer to 125 For that: in order that 127, 129 for: because 128 civil: received in civil war 131 set on you: set you on 134 Which; cf. n. 142 regreet: greet again ​143 stranger: foreign 147 point on: aim at 150 sly: stealthy 156 dearer merit: more precious reward maim: disabling blow 166 engaol'd: imprisoned ​174 boots: avails compassionate; cf. n. 175 plaining: complaining ​206 stray: get lost 208 glasses: eyeballs 216 in regard of: out of consideration for 221 oil-dried: with oil exhausted ​234 party-verdict: share in joint verdict 239–242 Cf. n. 240 smooth: gloss over 241 partial slander: slanderous charge of partiality 249 presence: the king's presence 257 dolour: grief ​266 foil: contrasting setting for a jewel 268–293 Cf. App. C 269 remember: remind 272 passages: wanderings 274 journeyman; cf. n. 281 faintly: faint-heartedly 282 purchase: win ​289 presence: royal presence-chamber strew'd: i.e., with rushes or flowers 291 measure: a grave and formal dance 292 gnarling: snarling 293 sets it light: regards it lightly 299 fantastic: imagined 300 apprehension: conception 304 bring: accompany 305 stay: delay
Scene Four
​2 high: arrogant 8 rheum: watery secretion of the eyes 12–14 Cf. n. ​29 underbearing: enduring 30 affects: kind feelings 35 reversion: destined to come into his possession 39 Expedient: expeditious manage: arrangement 43 court; cf. n. 44 largess: bestowal of gifts 45 farm; cf. n. 48 Cf. n. 52 presently: at once