RICHARD We will ourself in person to this war,
And, for our coffers with too great a court
And liberal largesse are grown somewhat light,
We are enforced to farm our royal realm,
The revenue whereof shall furnish us
For our affairs in hand. If that come short,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold
And send them after to supply our wants,
For we will make for Ireland presently. (1.4.42-52)
A lofty pivot back to Being King (rather than being snarky and a bit petty) for Richard, but it’s not necessarily an encouraging move. He seems to have the attention span of a gnat and rather less political judgement: is this really a decision to be taken with his favourites, in an off-duty moment, rather than in council, with his advisors? Never mind, the decision’s made: we will ourself in person to this war; Richard’s off to Ireland to sort out the rebels. But it’s going to cost a lot, and he’s skint (and so, therefore, is the realm): our coffers with too great a court and liberal largesse are grown somewhat light; we’ve (I’ve) been living beyond our (my) means, putting on a fine show at court and being too generous (scope for a knowing smirk here from the favourites, beneficiaries of that liberal largesse, and underscoring, in its pronouns and in financial and political terms, just how messy and fundamental that relationship between the crown and the king as an individual is). The treasury, the coffers, the money chests, are nearly empty.
But that’s easily solved! (A cunning plan.) We are enforced to farm our royal realm. This needs a bit of unpacking. Enforced is pushing it, because this is Richard’s choice and implicitly the result of his mismanagement (even if he’s saying, this is the only option). Farming here has nothing to do with agriculture: what Richard is planning to do is to lease out England to individuals who will pay him a flat fee and in turn be allowed to keep the taxes that they raise in a particular region. (A system and a mechanism wide open to abuse, and one that still existed when Shakespeare was writing, and beyond, for example in the form of ‘customs farms’, whereby the import duties payable on particular commodities were granted to a particular individual. The earl of Essex had been granted those on sweet wines, for instance, a massive amount of money, both directly and in the form of back-handers.) Richard is mortgaging his own country, and potentially allowing its people to be exploited and oppressed, by being forced to pay taxes being raised by the state in name only. That should raise enough cash for our affairs in hand, furnishing us with, oh, weapons and armour and stuff, he concludes, but if not, he’s got a back-up plan: although he’s going to be in Ireland, in charge of the war, he’ll supply his substitutes, his deputies or regents at home (implicitly Bushy, Bagot, and Green?) with blank charters, which will enable them to raise large sums of gold by going after rich men and filling in their names (in these official, royally-sanctioned and endorsed documents) as having already agreed to subscribe, sign up to make large contributions to the war effort. Corrupt, cynical, risky, a bit naïve; what could possible go wrong? I’m off to Ireland presently, that is, right now, so just send any cash you raise on to me there, to pay for the necessary. Cheers.
