Here is the line-by-line paraphrase of Edmund of Langley’s (York’s) monologue from Richard II, Act 2, Scene 1:

Original: How long shall I be patient? ah, how long
Modern: How much longer can I stay quiet about all of this?

Original: Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Modern: How long will my loyalty force me to just sit here and take it?

Original: Not Gloucester’s death, nor Hereford’s banishment
Modern: Not the death of Gloucester, not the banishment of Hereford,

Original: Not Gaunt’s rebukes, nor England’s private wrongs,
Modern: Not the way Gaunt was treated, not the secret wrongs done to England,

Original: Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke
Modern: Not even the way poor Bolingbroke was blocked

Original: About his marriage, nor my own disgrace,
Modern: From making his marriage happen, or the way I myself have been shamed,

Original: Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Modern: None of these things have ever made me show my anger,

Original: Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign’s face.
Modern: Or cause my king even a moment of displeasure.

Original: I am the last of noble Edward’s sons,
Modern: I am the last surviving son of the great King Edward,

Original: Of whom thy father, Prince of Wales, was first:
Modern: And your own father, the Prince of Wales, was the eldest and greatest of us.

Original: In war was never lion raged more fierce,
Modern: In battle, no lion was ever more fierce and powerful,

Original: In peace was never gentle lamb more mild,
Modern: And in peacetime, no gentle lamb was ever more calm and kind,

Original: Than was that young and princely gentleman.
Modern: Than your father was — that noble and princely young man.

Original: His face thou hast, for even so look’d he,
Modern: You have his face — he looked exactly like you,

Original: Accomplish’d with the number of thy hours;
Modern: When he was the same age as you are now.

Original: But when he frown’d, it was against the French
Modern: But when he scowled and showed his anger, it was directed at the French,

Original: And not against his friends; his noble hand
Modern: Never at his own friends and allies. His noble hand

Original: Did will what he did spend and spent not that
Modern: Only gave away what was rightfully his own to give, and he never spent

Original: Which his triumphant father’s hand had won;
Modern: What his victorious father, King Edward, had conquered and earned.

Original: His hands were guilty of no kindred blood,
Modern: His hands were never stained with the blood of his own family,

Original: But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
Modern: Only with the blood of his family’s enemies.

Original: O Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Modern: Oh, Richard! York — that is, I — am so overwhelmed with grief

Original: Or else he never would compare between.
Modern: That I would never have dared to make that comparison otherwise.

Original: O my liege,
Modern: Oh, my king,

Original: Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleased
Modern: Forgive me if you wish — but if you choose not to forgive me, then I am perfectly

Original: Not to be pardon’d, am content withal.
Modern: Content to go without your forgiveness. I’ll say what I must either way.

Original: Seek you to seize and gripe into your hands
Modern: Are you really planning to seize and grab for yourself

Original: The royalties and rights of banish’d Hereford?
Modern: All of the titles, lands, and rights that belong to the banished Hereford?

Original: Is not Gaunt dead, and doth not Hereford live?
Modern: Isn’t Gaunt dead? And isn’t his son Hereford still very much alive?

Original: Was not Gaunt just, and is not Harry true?
Modern: Wasn’t Gaunt an honest man? And isn’t his son Harry an honorable one?

Original: Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Modern: Didn’t Gaunt deserve to have his son inherit what was his?

Original: Is not his heir a well-deserving son?
Modern: And isn’t that son worthy of everything he stands to inherit?

Original: Take Hereford’s rights away, and take from Time
Modern: If you take away Hereford’s rights, you are essentially stealing from Time itself —

Original: His charters and his customary rights;
Modern: You are throwing out the ancient laws and customs that govern inheritance.

Original: Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;
Modern: If you do that, you might as well say that tomorrow doesn’t have to follow today —

Original: Be not thyself; for how art thou a king
Modern: You might as well stop being who you are — because how do YOU claim to be king

Original: But by fair sequence and succession?
Modern: If not through the very same laws of order and succession you’re now trying to break?

Original: Now, afore God—God forbid I say true!—
Modern: I swear before God — and God help us both if what I’m saying is right —

Original: If you do wrongfully seize Hereford’s rights,
Modern: That if you illegally seize Hereford’s rights,

Original: Call in the letters patent that he hath
Modern: And cancel the legal documents that give him the authority

Original: By his attorneys-general to sue
Modern: Through his legal representatives to claim

Original: His livery, and deny his offer’d homage,
Modern: His inheritance, and if you refuse his pledge of loyalty,

Original: You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
Modern: You will bring a thousand disasters crashing down on yourself,

Original: You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts
Modern: You will lose the loyalty of a thousand good and faithful people

Original: And prick my tender patience, to those thoughts
Modern: And you will push my already strained patience to the breaking point — to thoughts

Original: Which honour and allegiance cannot think.
Modern: That a loyal and honorable man should never even allow himself to think.

Original: I’ll not be by the while: my liege, farewell:
Modern: I refuse to stand by and watch this happen. My king, goodbye.

Original: What will ensue hereof, there’s none can tell;
Modern: No one can say for certain what will come of all this,

Original: But by bad courses may be understood
Modern: But one thing is clear — when a ruler follows a wicked and reckless path,

Original: That their events can never fall out good.
Modern: The outcome can never be anything but bad.

Act II, Scene i of Richard II opens with John of Gaunt, the aging Duke of Lancaster, arriving at Ely House gravely ill and near death. He is accompanied by the Duke of York, and Gaunt expresses his hope that he might have one final opportunity to speak words of wisdom to his nephew, King Richard II, before he dies. York cautions Gaunt that Richard is unlikely to heed such counsel, but Gaunt remains determined to make his voice heard. When Richard arrives with his queen, attendants, and various nobles, Gaunt delivers his famous speech lamenting the state of England, describing it as a once-great kingdom now brought low by Richard’s reckless governance. Richard, unmoved and angered by his uncle’s criticism, responds with cold contempt. Gaunt is then carried off, and shortly thereafter a messenger arrives to announce that Gaunt has died.

Following Gaunt’s death, Richard immediately seizes the opportunity to claim the Lancaster estates and treasury for the crown, ignoring the legal rights of Gaunt’s exiled son, Henry Bolingbroke. The Duke of York protests this seizure forcefully, warning Richard that he is violating the very laws of inheritance that give Richard himself the right to sit on the throne. Richard dismisses York’s objections and departs, leaving several nobles behind — including Northumberland, Ross, and Willoughby — who speak openly among themselves about their grievances against Richard’s misrule. Northumberland then reveals that Bolingbroke is already sailing back to England with an armed force, and the three men agree to join his cause, setting the stage for the conflict to come.

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.