Richard II

King Richard
Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,
Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son,
Here to make good the boist’rous late appeal,
Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
Gaunt
I have, my liege.

Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
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King Richard
Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me.
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.
Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.

Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed.
Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.—
Good uncle,
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King Richard
Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
And both return back to their chairs again.
 To his council.
Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound
While we return these dukes what we decree.
 Trumpets sound while Richard consults with
 Gaunt and other Nobles.
 To Bolingbroke and Mowbray. 
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King Richard
Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
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”
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
Mowbray
A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
And all unlooked-for from your Highness’ mouth.
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York
The King is come. Deal mildly with his youth,
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?

A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
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Northumberland
My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your Majesty.
King Richard
What says he?
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,
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Needs must I like it well. I weep for joy
To stand upon my kingdom once again. He kneels.
Dear earth, I do salute thee with my hand,
Though rebels wound thee with their horses’ hoofs.

As a long-parted mother with her child
Plays fondly with her tears and smiles in meeting,
So, weeping, smiling, greet I thee,
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King Richard
Discomfortable cousin, know’st thou not
That when the searching eye of heaven is hid
Behind the globe that lights the lower world,
Then thieves and robbers range abroad unseen
In murders and in outrage boldly here?

O, call back yesterday, bid time return,
And thou shalt have twelve thousand fighting men.
Today,
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Scroop
More health and happiness betide my liege
Than can my care-tuned tongue deliver him.
King Richard
Mine ear is open and my heart prepared.
The worst is worldly loss thou canst unfold.

Cry woe, destruction, ruin, and decay.
The worst is death, and death will have his day.

Say, is my kingdom lost?
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King Richard
No matter where. Of comfort no man speak.
Let’s talk of graves, of worms, and epitaphs,
Make dust our paper, and with rainy eyes
Write sorrow on the bosom of the earth.
Let’s choose executors and talk of wills.

I live with bread like you, feel want,
Taste grief, need friends. Subjected thus,
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