Original Text |
Translated Text |
| Source: Folger Shakespeare Library |
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Scene 1 Enter John of Gaunt sick, with the Duke of York, and
Attendants. 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 5
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. 10
He that no more must say is listened more
Than they whom youth and ease have taught to
gloze.
More are men’s ends marked than their lives before.
The setting sun and music at the close, 15
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. | At Ely House in London, John of Gaunt hangs out with the Duke of York. Gaunt is at death's door, and he says he hopes King Richard will listen to good advice if it comes from a dying man. |
YORK
No, it is stopped with other flattering sounds, 20
As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond;
Lascivious meters, to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen;
Report of fashions in proud Italy,
Whose manners still our tardy-apish nation 25
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 buzzed into his ears?
Then all too late comes counsel to be heard 30
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. | York tells him it's useless. Richard's too busy listening to all the brown-nosers who only tell the king what he wants to hear. |
GAUNT
Methinks I am a prophet new inspired 35
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
short; 40
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding food doth choke the feeder;
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this sceptered isle, 45
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
This other Eden, demi-paradise,
This fortress built by Nature for herself
Against infection and the hand of war,
This happy breed of men, this little world, 50
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands,
This blessèd plot, this earth, this realm, this 55
England,
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Feared by their breed and famous by their birth,
Renownèd for their deeds as far from home
For Christian service and true chivalry 60
As is the sepulcher in stubborn Jewry
Of the world’s ransom, blessèd Mary’s son,
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leased out—I die pronouncing it— 65
Like to a tenement or pelting farm.
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of wat’ry Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds. 70
That England that was wont to conquer others
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself.
Ah, would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death! | Gaunt prophesies that Richard is like a violent fire that will burn out too quickly and come to a bad end. (Sound familiar? Friar Laurence says something similar about the love affair between Romeo and Juliet: "These violent delights have violent ends / And in their triumph die, like fire and powder" (Romeo and Juliet, 2.6.1). By the way, Shakespeare wrote Romeo and Juliet around the same time he whipped up Richard II. 1595 was a productive year.) Henry compares Richard to a cormorant, a greedy bird known for eating
fish whole. Richard, Gaunt says, will end up eating England herself. He
gives a gorgeous description of England, then laments that Richard has
already mortgaged it like a "worthless farm." |
Enter King and Queen, Aumerle, Bushy, Green, Bagot,
Ross, Willoughby, etc. YORK
The King is come. Deal mildly with his youth, 75
For young hot colts being reined do rage the more. QUEEN, to Gaunt
How fares our noble uncle Lancaster? KING RICHARD, to Gaunt
What comfort, man? How is ’t with agèd Gaunt? GAUNT
O, how that name befits my composition!
Old Gaunt indeed and gaunt in being old. 80
Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast,
And who abstains from meat that is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time have I watched;
Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt.
The pleasure that some fathers feed upon 85
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 naught but bones. |
When the king and queen arrive, Gaunt puns on his name and describes himself as literally "gaunt," starving from grief because of his son's banishment. |
KING RICHARD
Can sick men play so nicely with their names? 90 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. KING RICHARD
Should dying men flatter with those that live? GAUNT
No, no, men living flatter those that die. 95 KING RICHARD
Thou, now a-dying, sayest thou flatterest me. GAUNT
O, no, thou diest, though I the sicker be. KING RICHARD
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. 100
Thy deathbed is no lesser than thy 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. 105
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head,
And yet encagèd in so small a verge,
The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
O, had thy grandsire with a prophet’s eye 110
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 possessed,
Which art possessed now to depose thyself.
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, 115
It were a shame to let this land by lease;
But, for thy world enjoying but this land,
Is it not more than shame to shame it so?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king.
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law, 120
And thou— | Richard is all, "Gee, Gaunt can't be that sick if he's got enough energy for witty wordplay." Gaunt answers that though he himself is sick, Richard is the one dying. Gaunt warns Richard that he is "in reputation sick," and that instead of seeking help from good doctors, he's entrusted his health to the very doctors who first made him ill. (Translation: Richard has surrounded himself with a bunch of brown-nosers, and this bad decision is destroying the country. If Richard doesn't watch out, he'll lose all his power.) Gaunt ends by calling Richard a landlord, not a king, since he's leased out royal lands to raise money. |
KING RICHARD A lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague’s privilege,
Darest with thy frozen admonition
Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood 125
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 unreverent shoulders. 130 | Richard gets all huffy and calls Gaunt a "lunatic lean-witted fool." He
says the only thing saving Gaunt from being beheaded is the fact that he
is Richard's uncle, brother to his father. (Yep, this is ironic all
right. As we know, Richard has already had one of his uncles murdered.) |
GAUNT
O, spare me not, my brother Edward’s son,
For that I was his father Edward’s son!
That blood already, like the pelican,
Hast thou tapped out and drunkenly caroused.
My brother Gloucester—plain, well-meaning soul, 135
Whom fair befall in heaven ’mongst happy souls—
May be a precedent and witness good
That thou respect’st not spilling Edward’s blood.
Join with the present sickness that I have,
And thy unkindness be like crooked age 140
To crop at once a too-long withered flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
These words hereafter thy tormentors be!—
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave.
Love they to live that love and honor have. 145 He exits, carried off by Attendants. | Gaunt tells Richard not to bother sparing his life. He compares him to a bird again, this time a baby pelican. FYI – it was thought that mother pelicans wounded themselves to feed their ungrateful children on their own blood. Rather than call Richard "king," he calls him "my brother Edward's son" and accuses him of greedily drinking his ancestors' blood. Brain Snack: Shakespeare's monarch, Queen Elizabeth I, often used the pelican as a symbol of her maternal relationship with her subjects. But don't just take our word for it. Check out this famous painting of Elizabeth known as the "Pelican Portrait." It features a brooch (a fancy pin) with a picture of, you guessed it, a mother pelican. Gaunt dares Richard to go ahead and kill him. Then he makes a dramatic exit by demanding to be taken first to bed, then to his grave. Only men who have love and honor want to live; since he has neither, he wants to die. |
KING RICHARD
And let them die that age and sullens have,
For both hast thou, and both become the grave. YORK
I do beseech your Majesty, impute his words
To wayward sickliness and age in him.
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear 150
As Harry, Duke of Hereford, were he here. KING RICHARD
Right, you say true: as Hereford’s love, so his;
As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. | York tries to make excuses for Gaunt. He's all, "Hey – the old man misses his son and he's dying, so he's acting a little crazy right now." He tells Richard that Gaunt really loves him just as much as he loves his son Henry. Richard purposely misunderstands York and says something like, "Yeah, Gaunt's love for me is like Henry's 'love' for me." (Remember, Richard banished Henry for possible treason.) |
Enter Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND
My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty. KING RICHARD
What says he? 155 NORTHUMBERLAND Nay, nothing; all is said.
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. YORK
Be York the next that must be bankrupt so!
Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. 160 KING RICHARD
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:
We must supplant those rough rugheaded kern,
Which live like venom where no venom else 165
But only they have privilege to live.
And, for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and movables
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possessed. 170 | The Earl of Northumberland enters to announce that Gaunt has died. Richard is all, "It's about time!"
Richard announces that he's going to seize all of Gaunt's property to help pay for the Irish wars. York (who, remember, is Gaunt's brother and Richard's uncle) feels things have gone too far. He tells Richard that up until now, he overlooked his brother Gloucester's death, Henry's banishment, England's troubles, and his own disgrace. Not anymore. |
YORK
How long shall I be patient? Ah, how long
Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloucester’s death, nor Hereford’s banishment,
Nor Gaunt’s rebukes, nor England’s private wrongs,
Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke 175
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign’s face.
I am the last of noble Edward’s sons,
Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first. 180
In war was never lion raged more fierce,
In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young and princely gentleman.
His face thou hast, for even so looked he,
Accomplished with the number of thy hours; 185
But when he frowned, it was against the French
And not against his friends. His noble hand
Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
Which his triumphant father’s hand had won.
His hands were guilty of no kindred blood, 190
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
O, Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between. | York tells Richard that he's nothing like his father was, because his
dad (King Edward) didn't go around killing his own relatives. |
KING RICHARD
Why, uncle, what’s the matter? YORK O, my liege, 195
Pardon me if you please. If not, I, pleased
Not to be pardoned, am content withal.
Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands
The royalties and rights of banished Hereford?
Is not Gaunt dead? And doth not Hereford live? 200
Was not Gaunt just? And is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Take Hereford’s rights away, and take from time
His charters and his customary rights; 205
Let not tomorrow then ensue today;
Be not thyself; for how art thou a king
But by fair sequence and succession?
Now afore God—God forbid I say true!—
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford’s rights, 210
Call in the letters patents that he hath
By his attorneys general to sue
His livery, and deny his offered homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well-disposèd hearts, 215
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honor and allegiance cannot think. | Richard asks why York is all mad. York says he's got to be honest. It's totally not cool for Richard to steal Gaunt's property, which is supposed to go to his heir, Henry. York warns Richard that if he goes through with this, everyone's going to hate him – maybe even turn against him. |
KING RICHARD
Think what you will, we seize into our hands
His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands. YORK
I’ll not be by the while. My liege, farewell. 220
What will ensue hereof there’s none can tell;
But by bad courses may be understood
That their events can never fall out good. He exits. KING RICHARD
Go, Bushy, to the Earl of Wiltshire straight.
Bid him repair to us to Ely House 225
To see this business. Tomorrow next
We will for Ireland, and ’tis time, I trow.
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York Lord Governor of England,
For he is just and always loved us well.— 230
Come on, our queen. Tomorrow must we part.
Be merry, for our time of stay is short. King and Queen exit with others;
Northumberland, Willoughby, and Ross remain. | Richard basically says, "But look at all the money!" York tells Richard he'll have nothing to do with it and leaves. Richard tells Bushy to start seizing Gaunt's property ASAP. Then he appoints York Governor of England while he's off at war in Ireland. Everyone exits except for Northumberland, Willoughby, and Ross. |
NORTHUMBERLAND
Well, lords, the Duke of Lancaster is dead. ROSS
And living too, for now his son is duke. WILLOUGHBY
Barely in title, not in revenues. 235 NORTHUMBERLAND
Richly in both, if justice had her right. ROSS
My heart is great, but it must break with silence
Ere ’t be disburdened with a liberal tongue. NORTHUMBERLAND
Nay, speak thy mind, and let him ne’er speak more
That speaks thy words again to do thee harm! 240 WILLOUGHBY, to Ross
Tends that thou wouldst speak to the Duke of
Hereford?
If it be so, out with it boldly, man.
Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards him. ROSS
No good at all that I can do for him, 245
Unless you call it good to pity him,
Bereft and gelded of his patrimony. NORTHUMBERLAND
Now, afore God, ’tis shame such wrongs are borne
In him, a royal prince, and many more
Of noble blood in this declining land. 250
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 lives, our children, and our heirs. 255 ROSS
The commons hath he pilled with grievous taxes,
And quite lost their hearts. The nobles hath he fined
For ancient quarrels, and quite lost their hearts. WILLOUGHBY
And daily new exactions are devised,
As blanks, benevolences, and I wot not what. 260
But what i’ God’s name doth become of this? NORTHUMBERLAND
Wars hath not wasted it, for warred he hath not,
But basely yielded upon compromise
That which his noble ancestors achieved with blows.
More hath he spent in peace than they in wars. 265 ROSS
The Earl of Wiltshire hath the realm in farm. WILLOUGHBY
The King grown bankrupt like a broken man. NORTHUMBERLAND
Reproach and dissolution hangeth over him. ROSS
He hath not money for these Irish wars,
His burdenous taxations notwithstanding, 270
But by the robbing of the banished duke. NORTHUMBERLAND
His noble kinsman. Most degenerate king!
But, lords, we hear this fearful tempest sing,
Yet seek no shelter to avoid the storm;
We see the wind sit sore upon our sails, 275
And yet we strike not, but securely perish. ROSS
We see the very wrack that we must suffer,
And unavoided is the danger now
For suffering so the causes of our wrack. NORTHUMBERLAND
Not so. Even through the hollow eyes of death 280
I spy life peering; but I dare not say
How near the tidings of our comfort is. WILLOUGHBY
Nay, let us share thy thoughts, as thou dost ours. ROSS
Be confident to speak, Northumberland.
We three are but thyself, and speaking so 285
Thy words are but as thoughts. Therefore be bold. | Willoughby, Northumberland, and Ross can't believe what the king has done. They're shocked that Henry's going to lose his inheritance after being banished from England. This is not fair, they say.
Then they start to badmouth Richard and name all the reasons he's such a lousy king: he's stolen money from the nobility and he's also bankrupted England. |
NORTHUMBERLAND
Then thus: I have from Le Port Blanc,
A bay in Brittany, received intelligence
That Harry Duke of Hereford, Rainold Lord
Cobham, 290
That late broke from the Duke of Exeter,
His brother, archbishop late of Canterbury,
Sir Thomas Erpingham, Sir John Ramston,
Sir John Norbery, Sir Robert Waterton, and Francis
Coint— 295
All these well furnished by the Duke of Brittany
With eight tall ships, three thousand men of war,
Are making hither with all due expedience
And shortly mean to touch our northern shore.
Perhaps they had ere this, but that they stay 300
The first departing of the King for Ireland.
If then we shall shake off our slavish yoke,
Imp out our drooping country’s broken wing,
Redeem from broking pawn the blemished crown,
Wipe off the dust that hides our scepter’s gilt, 305
And make high majesty look like itself,
Away with me in post to Ravenspurgh.
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. 310 WILLOUGHBY
Hold out my horse, and I will first be there. They exit. | Northumberland says he heard a rumor that Henry has just slapped together an army and is headed to England to challenge the king. Northumberland's on his way to hook up with Henry's army. Willoughby and Ross say they'll come too. |