GAUNT Methinks I am a prophet new inspired
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him:
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last
For violent fires soon burn out themselves.
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are short;
He tires betimes that spurs too fast betimes;
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder;
Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means, soon preys upon itself. (2.1.31-39)
Gaunt begins by picking up York’s final injunction, that he should save his breath and not waste it on Richard, because his time, and his breath, are running out (Latin spirare, to breathe; the breath of prophecy and inspiration here is implicitly the breath of the Holy Spirit.). No, he is new inspired, freshly reinvigorated, and even expiring he will prophesy. It’s quite a slow start, albeit with this string of vivid commonplaces. He foretells, first, that Richard’s rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last for violent fires soon burn out themselves. The rash fierce blaze makes Richard a Phaeton figure, the son of Apollo who disastrously took the reins of his father’s sun-chariot; the identification will later be used by Richard of himself, as will the figure of the sun more generally. Riot is exactly what York was describing, dissolute living, all those Italian suits and funky poems, hanging out with his boys, and here there’s a neat echo (albeit it’s a commonplace) of Romeo and Juliet: these violent delights have violent ends and in their triumph die, like fire and powder, which, as they kiss, consume. There’s a sensuality to Richard’s riot, heat and light, danger and allure, but it’ll burn itself out all the same, says Gaunt. A downpour may drench you, but it doesn’t last long, unlike small showers which just make it damp all day, and the rider who spurs too fast, rides full tilt, will quickly tire himself out. You’ll choke if you eat too much too fast. And light vanity, Richard’s worldliness and triviality, his butterfly preoccupation with frivolity and indulgence, is like an insatiate cormorant, the rapacious sea-bird which eats up everything in sight and is then forced to prey upon itself. He’ll get sick of it soon enough. The cormorant is interesting here: it’s the archetype of the usurer, for instance, cruel and insatiable, and it’s often used in connection with money more generally, which is going to matter later in this speech (and scene). The means which are being consumed, therefore, are also financial. Richard is running out of money, and that’ll force him to act more soberly.
None of this is especially inspiring or original or prophetic. But Gaunt is just getting started.
