Act 1, Scene 2

The same. A room in the DUKE OF LANCASTER'S palace.

[Enter GAUNT and DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER.]
John of Gaunt
209 Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood
210 Doth more solicit me than your exclaims,
211 To stir against the butchers of his life.
212 But since correction lieth in those hands
213 Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
214 Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
215 Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,
216 Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
Duchess of Gloucester
217 Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
218 Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
219 Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
220 Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,
221 Or seven fair branches springing from one root:
222 Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
223 Some of those branches by the Destinies cut;
224 But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester,
225 One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,
226 One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
227 Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;
228 Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all vaded,
229 By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.
230 Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine: that bed, that womb,
231 That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee,
232 Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and breath'st,
233 Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
234 In some large measure to thy father's death
235 In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
236 Who was the model of thy father's life.
237 Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:
238 In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
239 Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life,
240 Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
241 That which in mean men we entitle patience
242 Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
243 What shall I say? To safeguard thine own life,
244 The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death.
John of Gaunt
245 God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute,
246 His deputy anointed in his sight,
247 Hath caus'd his death; the which if wrongfully,
248 Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift
249 An angry arm against his minister.
Duchess of Gloucester
250 Where then, alas! may I complain myself?
John of Gaunt
251 To God, the widow's champion and defence.
Duchess of Gloucester
252 Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
253 Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold
254 Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight:
255 O! sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,
256 That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast.
257 Or, if misfortune miss the first career,
258 Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom
259 That they may break his foaming courser's back,
260 And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
261 A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford!
262 Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife
263 With her companion, Grief, must end her life.
John of Gaunt
264 Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry.
265 As much good stay with thee as go with me!
Duchess of Gloucester
266 Yet one word more. Grief boundeth where it falls,
267 Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
268 I take my leave before I have begun,
269 For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.
270 Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York.
271 Lo! this is all: nay, yet depart not so;
272 Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
273 I shall remember more. Bid him—ah, what?—
274 With all good speed at Plashy visit me.
275 Alack! and what shall good old York there see
276 But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
277 Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?
278 And what hear there for welcome but my groans?
279 Therefore commend me; let him not come there,
280 To seek out sorrow that dwells every where.
281 Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die:
282 The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
[Exeunt.]