Tuesday, August 28, 2012


The Life and Death of Richard the Second

Act 2, Scene 1: Ely House.
Enter JOHN OF GAUNT sick, with the DUKE OF YORK

I did a rework of this most famous piece. It’s probably heresy on most levels to do this, but it is a great way to appreciate the depth and richness of Shakespeare’s writing. His writing stands the test of time and you know the only conclusion at the end was how amazing it still is; all these centuries later.
 
Perhaps a prophet inspired afresh am I
When foresight on him sharpens with my ending
That his hastened insurrection cannot continue
For this conflagration shall wither as all others
Like a brief summer storm, no long winter rain
Haste makes speed the less and tires a soul more
That the hurried morsel can choke with favour

Small vain inglorious snout to full weighted trough
Devouring its salaried arrow to its heart of greed
This royal seat of majesty, this enthroned orb
This good earth of kings, this rest of gods
Sat with Eden or Shangri-la or Xanadu
Yet built with strength to resist the attacks of time
No world ills , no act of war shall penetrate
This gallant and courteous island race of men
A gem of carat beyond count in a watery plane
It plays its part in the battlement against harm
A defence that is the buttress on a national wall
Against the covet ambitions of lesser realms
This land of forests blessed, this glorious Britain
Nanny to the fertile earth that spawns royal
Birthed noble among their equals and feared by all
Their reputation renowned through all the world
True soldiers of fate and God, gentlemen and giant
As is the truth consigned now to the vaults of heresy
Would not listen to the son of God and now pay

With the souls of its people blessed though they be
The world turns away from us now we are shamed
All is for sale, rent or barter, how can I live to say it
Like some befouled hovel or whores boudoir
Britain wrapped around with a proud, angry sea
Who rugged coast enfold, protect and repel all
Is now wrapped in shame tighter than my bonds
With inky blots and rotten parchment bonds:
That England, that was able to master others,
Hath made now a shameful conquest of itself.
That all this were but a dream that ends with my life

Then how happy would be now my ensuing death!