Enter JOHN OF GAUNT, DUKE OF LANCASTER, and others, with the Earl of RUTLAND and the Duke of YORK.
GAUNT: Before my hermitage, the scout, mine eye, Doth all to the prospect of his fancy show. Wherein methinks I see my father's face: This face is not the fair complexion which I like to look upon; yet, in this face I make the ribs of my heart bleed.
DUKE: Sir, stand we forth to hear poor Duke of York, Whose grace is in disgrace, and must be mourn'd.
RUTLAND: O, that I might, for tender age and love, Put forth the fortune of my father's blood! I have a kind of Alfred in my mind; I bear him in my heart, and in my eyes; He lies within the bosom of our house, A jewel, inestimable to the world.
GAUNT: My noble uncle, do you like the issue? Methinks you show some pregnancy of the mind, Some luck to your majesty, or else an elsed sort of grace.
DUKE OF YORK: Not so, my lord; I am but one that counts the ways Of our estate; and with a sad conceit Remembers what hath been, which is more worth Than present joys.