1    We did observe. Cousin Aumerle,
2    How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

3    I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,
4    But to the next highway, and there I left him.

5    And say, what store of parting tears were shed?

6    Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind,
7    Which then blew bitterly against our faces,
8    Awaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance
9    Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.

10   What said our cousin when you parted with him?

11   'Farewell:'
12   And, for my heart disdained that my tongue
13   Should so profane the word, that taught me craft
14   To counterfeit oppression of such grief
15   That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave.
16   Marry, would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours
17   And added years to his short banishment,
18   He should have had a volume of farewells;
19   But since it would not, he had none of me.

20   He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt,
21   When time shall call him home from banishment,
22   Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
23   Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green
24   Observed his courtship to the common people;
25   How he did seem to dive into their hearts
26   With humble and familiar courtesy,
27   What reverence he did throw away on slaves,
28   Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles
29   And patient underbearing of his fortune,
30   As 'twere to banish their affects with him.
31   Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;
32   A brace of draymen bid God speed him well
33   And had the tribute of his supple knee,
34   With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;'
35   As were our England in reversion his,
36   And he our subjects' next degree in hope.

37   Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts.
38   Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,
39   Expedient manage must be made, my liege,
40   Ere further leisure yield them further means
41   For their advantage and your highness' loss.

42   We will ourself in person to this war:
43   And, for our coffers, with too great a court
44   And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light,
45   We are inforced to farm our royal realm;
46   The revenue whereof shall furnish us
47   For our affairs in hand: if that come short,
48   Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
49   Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
50   They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold
51   And send them after to supply our wants;
52   For we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter BUSHY
53   Bushy, what news?

54   Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
55   Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste
56   To entreat your majesty to visit him.

57   Where lies he?

58   At Ely House.

59   Now put it, God, in the physician's mind
60   To help him to his grave immediately!
61   The lining of his coffers shall make coats
62   To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.
63   Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him:
64   Pray God we may make haste, and come too late!

65   Amen.