BUSHY	At Ely House.

KING RICHARD II	Now put it, God, in the physician's mind
	To help him to his grave immediately!
	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!

All	Amen.

	[Exeunt]

	KING RICHARD II

ACT II

SCENE I	Ely House.

	[Enter JOHN OF GAUNT sick, with the DUKE OF YORK,
	&c]

JOHN OF GAUNT	Will the king come, that I may breathe my last
	In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth?

DUKE OF YORK	Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;
	For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

JOHN OF GAUNT	O, but they say the tongues of dying men
	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.
	He that no more must say is listen'd more
	Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose;
	More are men's ends mark'd than their lives before:
	The setting sun, and music 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.

DUKE OF YORK	No; it is stopp'd with other flattering sounds,
	As praises, of whose taste the wise are fond,
	Lascivious metres, 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
	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,
	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.

JOHN OF GAUNT	Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
	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;
	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 scepter'd isle,
	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,
	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 blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England,
	This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
	Fear'd by their breed and famous by their birth,
	Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
	For Christian service and true chivalry,
	As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
	Of the world's ransom, blessed 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,
	Like to a tenement or pelting farm:
	England, bound in with the triumphant sea
	Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
	Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
	With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
	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!

	[Enter KING RICHARD II and QUEEN, DUKE OF AUMERLE,
	BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, LORD ROSS, and LORD
	WILLOUGHBY]