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Richard II
·II i 96 ·
Verse
Gaunt John of Gaunt: Now He that made me knows I see thee ill; Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. Thy death-bed 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: A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head; And yet, incaged in so small a verge, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land. O, had thy grandsire with a prophet's eye 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 possess'd, Which art possess'd now to depose thyself. Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world, 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; And thou— Presuming on an ague's privilege, Darest with thy frozen admonition Make pale our cheek, chasing the royal blood 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. John of 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 tapp'd out and drunkenly caroused: My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul, Whom fair befal 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, To crop at once a too long wither'd 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 honour have. |
Original: Now He that made me knows I see thee ill;
Modern: God, who created me, knows that I can see you are doing wrong —
Original: Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
Modern: It’s painful for me to witness, and painful to see the evil in you.
Original: Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land
Modern: Your deathbed is nothing less than your entire kingdom —
Original: Wherein thou liest in reputation sick;
Modern: A kingdom where you lie sick in terms of your reputation and honor.
Original: And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Modern: And you, being a far too reckless and negligent patient,
Original: Commit’st thy anointed body to the cure
Modern: Are handing over your sacred, God-appointed body to be healed
Original: Of those physicians that first wounded thee:
Modern: By the very same people who caused your wounds in the first place.
Original: A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Modern: A thousand yes-men and sycophants live inside the circle of your crown,
Original: Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
Modern: A circle no larger than the size of your own head.
Original: And yet, incaged in so small a verge,
Modern: And yet, even though they’re trapped inside such a tiny space,
Original: The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
Modern: The damage they do is just as great as the destruction of your entire kingdom.
Original: O, had thy grandsire with a prophet’s eye
Modern: Oh, if only your grandfather Edward III had been able to see the future —
Original: Seen how his son’s son should destroy his sons,
Modern: And seen how his grandson would destroy his own family —
Original: From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame,
Modern: He would have put your disgrace far out of your reach,
Original: Deposing thee before thou wert possess’d,
Modern: Removing you from the throne before you ever had the chance to sit on it,
Original: Which art possess’d now to depose thyself.
Modern: Because now that you do sit on it, you are destroying yourself with your own actions.
Original: Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
Modern: Listen, cousin — even if you ruled over the entire world,
Original: It were a shame to let this land by lease;
Modern: It would still be shameful to lease out your land to others for profit.
Original: But for thy world enjoying but this land,
Modern: But since England is your whole world — it is all you have —
Original: Is it not more than shame to shame it so?
Modern: Isn’t it an even greater disgrace to dishonor it the way you do?
Original: Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Modern: You are nothing more than a landlord of England now — not a true king.
Original: Thy state of law is bondslave to the law; And thou—
Modern: Your royal authority and standing have become a slave to your own corrupt dealings — and you yourself —
Original: O, spare me not, my brother Edward’s son,
Modern: Don’t hold back on my account just because I’m your uncle — son of your father’s brother Edward —
Original: For that I was his father Edward’s son;
Modern: Just because I am the son of King Edward III, the same as your father was.
Original: That blood already, like the pelican,
Modern: You have already drained that royal blood dry, like a pelican —
Original: Hast thou tapp’d out and drunkenly caroused:
Modern: Tapped it out and greedily consumed it as if you were drunk on it.
Original: My brother Gloucester, plain well-meaning soul,
Modern: My brother Gloucester — a straightforward and genuinely good man —
Original: Whom fair befal in heaven ‘mongst happy souls!
Modern: May he rest in peace and happiness among the blessed in heaven!
Original: May be a precedent and witness good
Modern: His death stands as clear proof and a warning
Original: That thou respect’st not spilling Edward’s blood:
Modern: That you have no problem with spilling the blood of Edward’s family.
Original: Join with the present sickness that I have;
Modern: Add that guilt to the illness that is already killing me —
Original: And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
Modern: And let your cruelty act like the bent, withering hand of old age,
Original: To crop at once a too long wither’d flower.
Modern: Cutting down a flower that has already withered and stayed on the vine too long.
Original: Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!
Modern: Go on living in your shame — but don’t let your shame die with you and be forgotten!
Original: These words hereafter thy tormentors be!
Modern: Let these words I have spoken haunt and torment you for the rest of your days!
Original: Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Modern: Carry me to my bed now, and then soon enough — to my grave.
Original: Love they to live that love and honour have.
Modern: Only those who truly love honor and virtue deserve to love being alive.
Act II, Scene i of Richard II opens at Ely House, where John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, lies on his deathbed. Gaunt speaks to the Duke of York about his hope that Richard II will come to hear his dying words, believing that a dying man’s counsel carries special weight and that Richard may finally heed advice he has long ignored. Gaunt laments the state of England under Richard’s rule, grieving over the king’s reckless spending, his surrounding himself with flatterers, and his selling off of royal lands and revenues. When Richard arrives with his queen and attendants, Gaunt delivers his famous rebuke directly to the king, condemning him for bringing shame upon England and upon the legacy of his grandfather, Edward III. Richard responds with cold contempt, and when Gaunt is carried off and shortly thereafter reported dead, Richard immediately moves to seize all of Gaunt’s wealth and property to fund his military campaign in Ireland.
The remaining lords — York, Northumberland, Ross, and Willoughby — react to Richard’s seizure of Gaunt’s estate with growing alarm and indignation. York confronts Richard directly, warning him that by unlawfully taking Gaunt’s lands — which by right should pass to Gaunt’s exiled son, Henry Bolingbroke — Richard is undermining the very laws of inheritance that secure his own crown. Richard dismisses York’s counsel and departs for Ireland, leaving York as Lord Governor of England in his absence. Once the king has gone, Northumberland reveals to Ross and Willoughby that Bolingbroke is already sailing from France with a force of men, intending to return to England and reclaim his rightful inheritance. The three men agree to join Bolingbroke’s cause, setting in motion the rebellion that will ultimately challenge Richard’s reign.
Richard II opens with King Richard presiding over a dispute between Henry Bolingbroke (John of Gaunt’s son) and Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. Both men accuse each other of treason, and when Richard cannot reconcile them, he arranges a trial by combat. However, just as the combat is about to begin, Richard stops the fight and banishes both men from England - Mowbray for life and Bolingbroke for six years, later reduced to four.
When John of Gaunt falls ill and dies, Richard seizes his lands and wealth to fund his wars in Ireland, effectively disinheriting Bolingbroke. This act alienates the nobility, who fear their own inheritances are now at risk. While Richard departs for his Irish campaign, Bolingbroke returns from exile with an army, ostensibly to reclaim his rightful inheritance. He quickly gains support from discontented nobles, including the Duke of York, who was left as regent in Richard’s absence.
Richard returns from Ireland to find his support has collapsed and his army has dispersed. After a series of encounters, including a pivotal scene at Flint Castle where Richard realizes his situation is hopeless, he agrees to abdicate. In a formal ceremony at Westminster, Richard hands over his crown to Bolingbroke, who becomes King Henry IV. Richard is imprisoned in Pomfret Castle, where he is eventually murdered by Sir Pierce Exton, who believes he is carrying out Henry’s wishes. The play ends with Henry expressing regret over Richard’s death and vowing to journey to the Holy Land to atone for his indirect role in the former king’s murder.