Aum. I brought high Herford, if you call him fo, But to the next high way, and there I left him.

King. And fay, what store of parting teares were fhed? Aum. Faith none for me, except the northeast winde, Which then blew bitterly against our face,

Awakt the fleepie † rewme, and fo by chance
Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.

King. What faid your coofin when you parted with him?
Au. Farewell, and for my heart difdained that my tongue
Should fo prophane the word that taught me craft,
To counterfaite oppreffion of fuch griefe,

That words feemd buried in my forrowes graue :
Marry would the word farewell haue § lengthned houres,
And added yeeres to his short banishment,

He should haue had a volume of farewels:
But fince it would not, he had none of me.

King. He is our coofins coofin, but tis doubt,
When time shall call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinfman come to see his friends.
Our felfe and Bufbie ‡‡

Obferued his courtship to the common people,
How he did feeme to diue into their hearts,
With humble and familiar curtefie,

With reuerence he did throw away on flaues,
Wooing poore craftsmen with the craft of fmiles,
And patient vnderbearing 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,
And had the tribute of his fupple knee,

With thanks my countrey-men, my louing friends,

+ Sleeping your

|| word

§ bad Greene, fourth edition.

‡‡ Bagot, bere, and

As were our England in reuerfion his,
And he our fubiects next degree in hope.

Greene. Well, he is gone, and with him go these thoughts.
Now for the rebels which ftand out in Ireland,
Expedient mannage must be made (my liege)
Ere further leyfure yeeld them † further meanes
For their aduantage, and your highneffe loffe.
King. We will our felfe in perfon to this warre,
And for our coffers, with too great a court
And liberall larges, are growne fomewhat light;
Wee are inforft to farme our royall realme,
The reuenue whereof fhall furnish vs ;
For our affaires in hand, if that come fhort,
Our fubftitutes at home fhall haue blancke charters,
Whereto, when they fhall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large fummes of gold,
And fend them after to fupply our wants,
For we will make for Ireland prefently.

Enter Bufhie with newes . §.

Bufb. Old John of Gaunt is grieuous * sicke, my lord, Sodainely taken, and hath fent post haft

To intreate your maieftie to visite him.

King. Where lies he?

Bush. At Elye house.

King. Now put it (God ‡‡) into the phifitions mind,

To helpe him to his graue immediately:

The lyning of his coffers fhall make coates,

To decke our foldiers for these Irish warres.

they

+the
first and third edition
the fourth edition, is added to the kings fpeech

§Bushy what rewer ? in very ‡‡ besuen |||| in bis

Come

Come gentlemen, let's all goe vifite him,

Pray God we may make hast, and come too late:

Amen.

Exeunt .

Enter Iohn of Gaunt ficke, with the duke of Yorke, &c. Gaunt. Will the king come, that I may breath my last, In holfome counfell to his vnftayed youth?

Yorke. Vex not your felfe, nor ftriue not with your breath For all in vaine comes counfell to his eare.

Gaunt. Oh, but they fay, the tongues of dying men,
Inforce attention like deepe harmonie:

Where wordes are scarce, they are fieldome spent in vaine,
For they breath truth that breath their words in paine.
He that no more must fay, is liftened more

Then they whom youth and ease hath taught to glofe.
More are mens ends markt, then their liues before:
The setting funne, and musicke at the glofe ||,
As the last tast of sweetes is sweetest last,
Writ in remembrance, more then things long paft.
Though Richard my liues counfell would not heare,
My deaths fad tale may yet vndeafe his eare.

Yorke. No, it is stopt with other flattering founds,
As prayfes of his § state: then there ++ are found
Lafciuious meeters, to whofe venom found
The open eare ‡‡ of youth doth alwaies liften.
Report of fashions in proud Italie,

Whose manners ftill our tardy apish nation
Limps after in base imitation.

Where doth the world thruft foorth a vanitie,
So it be new, there's no refpect how vile,

That is not quickly buzd into his eares?

Then all too late comes counfell to be heard,
Where will doth mutinie with wittes regard.
Direct not him whofe way himfelfe will choose,

Tis breath thou lackst, and that breath thou wilt † loose.
Gaunt. Mee thinks I am a prophet. new infpird,
And thus expiring, doe foretell of him;

His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last:

For violent fires foone burne out themfelues,

Small showers laft long, but fodaine ftormes are fhort:
He tires betimes, that fpurs too faft betimes.
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder,
Light vanitie, infatiate cormorant,

Confuming meanes foone prayes vpon it felfe:
This royall throne of kings, this fceptred ile,
This earth of maieftie, this seate of Mars,
This other Eden, demie paradice,

This foretreffe built by nature for her selfe,
Against infection, and the hand of warre;
This happy breed of men, this little world,
This precious ftone fet in the filuet fea,
Which ferueues ‡ it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moate defenfiue to a houfe,

Against the enuie of lesse happier lands:

This blessed plotte, this earth, this realme, this England,

This nurse, this teeming wombe of royall kings,

Feard by their breed, and famous by their birth,
Renowned in their deeds as farre from home,
For christian feruice and true chiualrie,

As is the fepulchre in stubborne Ilewrie,

Of the worlds ranfome, bleffed Maries fonne :

This land of fuch deare foules, this deare deare land;

That

+ wilt thou

ferves

Deare

Deare for her reputation through the world,
Is now leaced out (I die pronouncing it)
Like to a tenement and * pelting farme.
England bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rockie fhoare beates backe the enuious fiege
Of watry Neptune, is now bound in with fhame,
With inkie blottes, and rotten parchment bonds.
That England that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a fhamefull conqueft of it felfe:
Ah would the fcandall vanifht + with my life,
How happy then were my enfuing death?

Yorke. The king is come, deale mildly with his youth,
For young hot colts being rag'de, do rage the more.‡
Enter the king and queene, &c.

Queene. How fares our noble vncle Lancafter?

King. What comfort man? how ist with aged Gaunt ?
Gaunt. O how that name befits my compofition,

Old Gaunt indeed, and gaunt in being old;

Within me griefe hath kept a tedious fast,

And who abftaines from meate, that is not gaunt?
For fleeping England, long time haue I watcht;
Watching breedes leaneneffe, leaneneffe is all gaunt:
The pleasure that fome fathers feede vppon,
Is my ftrickt faft, I meane my childrens lookes,
And therein, fafting haft thou made me gaunt.
Gaunt am I for the graue, gaunt as a graue,
Whofe hollow wombe inherits nought but bones.

King. Can ficke men play fo nicely with their names?
Gaunt. No, miferie makes fport to mocke it felfe.
Since thou doft feeke to kill my name in me,

Omocke my name (great king) to flatter thee.