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The DUKE OF LANCASTER'S palace.
[Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with DUCHESS]
JOHN OF GAUNT
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Alas,| the part | I had | in Glouce|ster's blood,
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Doth more | soli|cit me | than your | exclaims,
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To stir | against | the butch|ers of | his life.
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But since | correc|tion li|eth in | those hands
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Which made | the fault | that we | cannot |
correct,
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Put^we | our quar|rel to | the will | of heaven,
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Who^when | they see | the hou|rs ripe | on earth,
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Will rain | hot vengeance | on offend|ers' heads.
DUCHESS
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Finds^broth|erhood | in thee | no sharp|er spur?
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Hath love | in thy / old blood | no liv|ing fire?
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Edward's | seven sons (where|of thyself | art
one)
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Were as | seven vi/als of | his sac|red blood,
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Or seven fair branch|es spring|ing from / one
root: ??
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Some of | those^seven | are dried | by na|ture's
course,
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Some of | those branch|es by | the Dest|inies
cut:
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But Thom|as, my / dear lord,| my life,| my
Glouce||ster,
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One | vial full of Ed|ward's sac|red blood,
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One flour|ishing branch | of his / most roy|al
root
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Is cracked,| and all | the pre|cious li|quor
spilt;
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Is hacked | down, and his | summer | leaves all*|
faded
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By en|vy's hand,| and murd|er's bloo|dy axe.
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Ah* Gaunt!| His blood | was thine,| that bed,|
that womb,
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That met|al, that / self-mold | that fash|ioned
thee,
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Made him | a man:| and though | thou livst,| and
breathst,
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Yet art | thou slain | in him:| thou dost |
consent
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In some large meas|ure to | thy fath|er's
death,
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In that | thou seest | thy wretch|ed broth|er
die,
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Who was | the mod|el of | thy fath|er's life.
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Call it not | patience |(Gaunt) it | is de|spair,
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In || suffering | thus thy | brother | to be |
slaughtered,
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Thou showst | the nak|ed path|way to | thy life,
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Teaching | stern murder how | to butch|er thee:
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That which in | mean men / we en|title | patience
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Is pale cold cow|ardice | in nob|le breasts:
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What shall I | say, to | safeguard thine |
own^life,
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The best | way is | to venge | my Glouce|ster's
death.
JOHN OF GAUNT
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Heaven's is | the quar|rel: for / heaven's
sub|stitute
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His dep|uty | anoint|ed in | his sight,
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Hath caused | his death,| the which | if
wrong|fully
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Let heaven | revenge:| for I | may nev|er lift
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An ang|ry arm | against | his min|ister.
DUCHESS
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Where then |(alas)| may I | complain | myself?
JOHN OF GAUNT
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To Heaven,| the wid|ow's champ|ion to | defense.
DUCHESS
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Why then | I will:| farewell old | Gaunt.
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Thou goest | to Cov|entry,| there to | behold
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Our cous|in Here|ford, and / fell Mow|bray fight:
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O sit | my hus|band's wrongs | on Here|ford's
spear,
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That it | may ent|er butch|er Mow|bray's breast:
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Or if | misfor|tune miss | the first | career,
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Be Mow|bray's sins | so hea/vy in | his bosom,
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They may break | his foam|ing cours|er's back,
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And throw | the rid|er head|long in the | lists,
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A cait|iff rec|reant | to my cousin |
Hereford:
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Farewell | old^Gaunt,| thy some|times^broth|er's
wife
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With her | compan|ion grief,| must end | her
life.
JOHN OF GAUNT
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Sister | farewell:| I must | to Cov|entry,
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As much | good* stay | with thee,| as go | with
me.
DUCHESS
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Yet one | word more: grief | boundeth | where it
falls,
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Not with | the emp|ty hol|lowness,| but weight:
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I take | my leave,| before | I have | begun,
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For sor|row ends | not, when | it seem|eth done.
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Commend | me to | thy broth|er Ed|mund York.
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Lo, this | is all:| nay, yet^|depart | not^so,
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Though this | be all,| do not | so quick|ly go,
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I shall | remem|ber more.| Bid him,| oh, what?
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With all | good* speed | at Plash|y vis|it me.
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Alack,| and what | shall good | old York | there*
see
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But emp|ty lod|gings, and / unfurn|ished walls,
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Unpeop|led of|fices,| untrod|den stones?
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And what hear there | for wel|come, but | my
groans?
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Therefore | commend | me, let | him not | come
there,
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To seek | out sor|row, that / dwells eve|rywhere:
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Deso|late, des|olate will | I hence,| and die,
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The last | leave of | thee, takes | my weep|ing
eye.
[Exeunt]