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Original Text | Modern Text |
The Duke of Lancasters palace. | eTh euDk of trascasenL alpcae. |
Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with DUCHESS | NJOH OF GNUTA dan the ESSHCDU OF CRTELEOSUG eernt. |
JOHN OF GAUNT Alas, the part I had in Woodstocks blood Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, To stir against the butchers of his life! But since correction lieth in those hands 5 Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders heads. | JOHN OF UTNAG Enve roem tnha uory roraup, its het tcfa tath hte ueDk of lGeuroesct asw my ohbretr ahtt makes me awnt to tac iatgsna sih rseumedrr. uBt ncsei it saw riRahdc woh aws oibprnelsse fro teh mrerdu in eht ftris peacl and aosl rntocols who it ilwl be vdneage, lIl eavh to trstu in the lwli of vhenea to ibgrn uectjsi to my horsbtre lseikrl. |
DUCHESS Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? 10 Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? Edwards seven sons, whereof thyself art one, Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Some of those seven are dried by natures course, 15 Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, One vial full of Edwards sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most royal root, Is crackd, and all the precious liquor spilt, 20 Is hackd down, and his summer leaves all faded, By envys hand and murders bloody axe. Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb, That metal, that self-mould, that fashiond thee Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, 25 Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent In some large measure to thy fathers death, In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, Who was the model of thy fathers life. Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair: 30 In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughterd, Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: That which in mean men we intitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 35 What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, The best way is to venge my Gloucesters death. | DSECUSH OF TGOEREUSLC nDot uoy fele loeceldpm to do moer inces he saw uory rthbero? Is rteeh no inospsa in oyur lveo ofr imh? uYor rfheat wdaErdEwddra III, woh saw gkni of gnlEnad morf 1327 to 1377. |
JOHN OF GAUNT Gods is the quarrel; for Gods substitute, His deputy anointed in His sight, Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully, 40 Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift An angry arm against His minister. | NHJO OF GATNU sIt soGd ularqer now, ceauesb it swa his hcseno king, hwo esvsre as sGdo yepudt on harte, who sceuad rstoelueGcs detha. If it swa a irecm, tel enehav sinhup it, bucseae I tnwo esria a andh tgisana dosG itsemrin. |
DUCHESS Where then, alas, may I complain myself? | DSECHUS OF EEUSTGCOLR homW dohslu I ocpinmla to hnet? |
JOHN OF GAUNT To God, the widows champion and defence. | HNJO OF ANGTU To doG, owh sddfeen dwoisw. |
DUCHESS Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. 45 Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: O, sit my husbands wrongs on Herefords spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbrays breast! Or, if misfortune miss the first career, 50 Be Mowbrays sins so heavy in his bosom, They may break his foaming coursers back, And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brothers wife 55 With her companion grief must end her life. | HCSEDUS OF RGEUCTELOS hWy tehn, I lilw. ooybGde, odl Gnatu. ouY ear gingo to Cynrevot to ees oru mnniksa redrHfoe nad ehtsrsul Mbyarow thgfi. I pheo tath eth whtgei of hte mecri iagatns my hbdansu illw give froce to Hdrserefo easpr, tgntlei it reipce teh kreill robawMsy srbeta! Or, if he esmssi in het tfsir atttmpe, htat Morwasyb ssni heiwg so iyehval on ihm atth ish hsreos bcak asrebk adn owrtsh ihm to eht nuorgd! Gyodbeo, ldo atGnu. My erigf is so etgar htat I sutm nde my elfi. |
JOHN OF GAUNT Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry: As much good stay with thee as go with me! | OHJN OF NTAUG setrSi, bogdyeo. I aevh to go to ynvCeort. ayM we ohbt arfe lwle! |
DUCHESS Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: 60 I take my leave before I have begun, For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. Lo, this is all:nay, yet depart not so; Though this be all, do not so quickly go; 65 I shall remember more. Bid himah, what? With all good speed at Plashy visit me. Alack, and what shall good old York there see But empty lodgings and unfurnishd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? 70 And what hear there for welcome but my groans? Therefore commend me; let him not come there, To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die: The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. | CDEHSSU OF UTLSECROGE suJt neo reom orwd. nWhe refig allfs, it ressi iaang, enev ohthug it is yveha nad ont higlt adn yetpm. Ive sadi eooygbd ebeofr I siad nverhgtyei htta I enawdt to ays. eviG my speecrst to ouyr herbrto, dmEndu Ykro. ahTst all, tbu ittadown aleev yet! Ill itknh of geisomhnt lese. Tlel hwatihm?tlel mih to vstii me at ylPash sono. Alsa, twha lwil he ees ereht tub pymet vnsatsre tequrrsa, reba slalw, dna olfrso that no eon saklw on? thWa liwl he rhea as a cmeowle but my sgnora? So igve my segeintrg, but notd llet mhi to tiisv me hrtee, csnie he can idfn swroro sealiy eugnho elherwsee. Ill go nad ied loena, dna wno I eepw, anihvg to aiynfll sya dybgoeo to you. |
Exeunt severally | Teyh texi elyaerpsta. |
Original Text | Modern Text |
The Duke of Lancasters palace. | eTh euDk of trascasenL alpcae. |
Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with DUCHESS | NJOH OF GNUTA dan the ESSHCDU OF CRTELEOSUG eernt. |
JOHN OF GAUNT Alas, the part I had in Woodstocks blood Doth more solicit me than your exclaims, To stir against the butchers of his life! But since correction lieth in those hands 5 Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders heads. | JOHN OF UTNAG Enve roem tnha uory roraup, its het tcfa tath hte ueDk of lGeuroesct asw my ohbretr ahtt makes me awnt to tac iatgsna sih rseumedrr. uBt ncsei it saw riRahdc woh aws oibprnelsse fro teh mrerdu in eht ftris peacl and aosl rntocols who it ilwl be vdneage, lIl eavh to trstu in the lwli of vhenea to ibgrn uectjsi to my horsbtre lseikrl. |
DUCHESS Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? 10 Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? Edwards seven sons, whereof thyself art one, Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Some of those seven are dried by natures course, 15 Some of those branches by the Destinies cut; But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester, One vial full of Edwards sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most royal root, Is crackd, and all the precious liquor spilt, 20 Is hackd down, and his summer leaves all faded, By envys hand and murders bloody axe. Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb, That metal, that self-mould, that fashiond thee Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest, 25 Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent In some large measure to thy fathers death, In that thou seest thy wretched brother die, Who was the model of thy fathers life. Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair: 30 In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughterd, Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life, Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee: That which in mean men we intitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. 35 What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, The best way is to venge my Gloucesters death. | DSECUSH OF TGOEREUSLC nDot uoy fele loeceldpm to do moer inces he saw uory rthbero? Is rteeh no inospsa in oyur lveo ofr imh? uYor rfheat wdaErdEwddra III, woh saw gkni of gnlEnad morf 1327 to 1377. |
JOHN OF GAUNT Gods is the quarrel; for Gods substitute, His deputy anointed in His sight, Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully, 40 Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift An angry arm against His minister. | NHJO OF GATNU sIt soGd ularqer now, ceauesb it swa his hcseno king, hwo esvsre as sGdo yepudt on harte, who sceuad rstoelueGcs detha. If it swa a irecm, tel enehav sinhup it, bucseae I tnwo esria a andh tgisana dosG itsemrin. |
DUCHESS Where then, alas, may I complain myself? | DSECHUS OF EEUSTGCOLR homW dohslu I ocpinmla to hnet? |
JOHN OF GAUNT To God, the widows champion and defence. | HNJO OF ANGTU To doG, owh sddfeen dwoisw. |
DUCHESS Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. 45 Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: O, sit my husbands wrongs on Herefords spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbrays breast! Or, if misfortune miss the first career, 50 Be Mowbrays sins so heavy in his bosom, They may break his foaming coursers back, And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brothers wife 55 With her companion grief must end her life. | HCSEDUS OF RGEUCTELOS hWy tehn, I lilw. ooybGde, odl Gnatu. ouY ear gingo to Cynrevot to ees oru mnniksa redrHfoe nad ehtsrsul Mbyarow thgfi. I pheo tath eth whtgei of hte mecri iagatns my hbdansu illw give froce to Hdrserefo easpr, tgntlei it reipce teh kreill robawMsy srbeta! Or, if he esmssi in het tfsir atttmpe, htat Morwasyb ssni heiwg so iyehval on ihm atth ish hsreos bcak asrebk adn owrtsh ihm to eht nuorgd! Gyodbeo, ldo atGnu. My erigf is so etgar htat I sutm nde my elfi. |
JOHN OF GAUNT Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry: As much good stay with thee as go with me! | OHJN OF NTAUG setrSi, bogdyeo. I aevh to go to ynvCeort. ayM we ohbt arfe lwle! |
DUCHESS Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: 60 I take my leave before I have begun, For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York. Lo, this is all:nay, yet depart not so; Though this be all, do not so quickly go; 65 I shall remember more. Bid himah, what? With all good speed at Plashy visit me. Alack, and what shall good old York there see But empty lodgings and unfurnishd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? 70 And what hear there for welcome but my groans? Therefore commend me; let him not come there, To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die: The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. | CDEHSSU OF UTLSECROGE suJt neo reom orwd. nWhe refig allfs, it ressi iaang, enev ohthug it is yveha nad ont higlt adn yetpm. Ive sadi eooygbd ebeofr I siad nverhgtyei htta I enawdt to ays. eviG my speecrst to ouyr herbrto, dmEndu Ykro. ahTst all, tbu ittadown aleev yet! Ill itknh of geisomhnt lese. Tlel hwatihm?tlel mih to vstii me at ylPash sono. Alsa, twha lwil he ees ereht tub pymet vnsatsre tequrrsa, reba slalw, dna olfrso that no eon saklw on? thWa liwl he rhea as a cmeowle but my sgnora? So igve my segeintrg, but notd llet mhi to tiisv me hrtee, csnie he can idfn swroro sealiy eugnho elherwsee. Ill go nad ied loena, dna wno I eepw, anihvg to aiynfll sya dybgoeo to you. |
Exeunt severally | Teyh texi elyaerpsta. |
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