KING RICHARD.
Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.
DUCHESS.
Then patiently hear my impatience.
KING RICHARD.
Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
That cannot brook the accent of reproof.
DUCHESS.
O, let me speak!
KING RICHARD.
Do then, but I’ll not hear.
DUCHESS.
I will be mild and gentle in my words.
KING RICHARD.
And brief, good mother, for I am in haste.
DUCHESS.
Art thou so hasty? I have stayed for thee,
God knows, in torment and in agony.
KING RICHARD.
And came I not at last to comfort you?
DUCHESS.
No, by the Holy Rood, thou know’st it well
Thou cam’st on earth to make the earth my hell.
A grievous burden was thy birth to me;
Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
Thy school-days frightful, desp’rate, wild, and furious;
Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous;
Thy age confirmed, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody,
More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred.
What comfortable hour canst thou name
That ever graced me with thy company?