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Shall be extinct with age, and endless night;
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
And blindfold death not let me see my son.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst give.
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow ;
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage;
Thy word is current with him for my death;
But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
K. Rich. Thy son is banished upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party' verdict gave. * &
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower?
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion sour.
You urged me as a judge; but I had rather,
You would have bid me argue like a father.—
O, had it been a stranger, not my child, - -
To smooth his fault I should have been more mild;”
A partial slander” sought I to avoid,
And in the sentence my own life destroyed.
Alas, I looked, when some of you should say
I was too strict, to make mine own away ;.
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue,
Against my will, to do myself this wrong. -
K. Rich. Cousin, farewell ;-and, uncle, bid him so,
Six years we banish him, and he shall go. -
[Flourish. Exeunt K. Rich. and Train.
Aum. Cousin, farewell; what presence must not
know, . - -
From where you do remain, let paper show. *
Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride,
As far as land will let me, by your side. * -
Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy
- words, w - -
That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends P
Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you,
I Had a part or share in it.
When the tongue's office should be prodigal
To breathe the abundant dolor of the heart.
Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly gone
Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour
ten. • , , * - • * *
Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.
Boling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so,
Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.
Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps
Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set
The precious jewel of thy home-return.
Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make *
Will but remember me, what a deal of world
I wander from the jewels that I love.
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
To foreign passages; and in the end, ...
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else,
But that I was a journeyman to grief? . -
Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven” visits,
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not the king did banish thee;
But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say—I sent thee forth to purchase honor,
And not—the king exiled thee; or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st.
Suppose the singing birds, musicians; -
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence
The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more
Than a delightful measure, or a dance ;
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus P
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?
Or wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
O, no! the apprehension of the good,
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I’ll bring thee on thy
Way : O 2
Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay.
Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet
soil, adieu ;
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
Where’er I wander, boast of this I can,—
Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman."
SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the King's Castle.
Enter KING RICHARD, BAGoT, and GREEN; AUMERLE following.
R. Rich. We did observe.”—Cousin Aunnerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way?
Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next highway, and there I left him.
K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears were
Aum. 'Faith, none by * me ; except the north-east
* wind, . . . . . . . - . . . . .
Which then blew bitterly against our faces,
Awaked the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance,
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. . . . . .
K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you, parted
Aum. Farewell: , .
And, for my heart disdained that my tongue
Should so profane, the word, that taught me craft
To counterfeit oppression of such grief,
. That words seemed buried in my sorrow's grave.
Marry, would the word farewell have lengthened hours,
And added years to his short banishment,
He should have had a volume of farewells;
But, since it would not, he had none of me.
R. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but ’tis doubt,
When time shall, call him home from banishment,
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends,
Ourself, and Bushy,” Bagot here, and Green,
Observed his courtship to the common people;—
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy;
What reverence he did throw away on slaves;
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles,
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oysterwèneh; , ,
A brace of draymen bid-food spe
And had the tribute o
With—Thanks, my ca
As were our England in reversion his,
And he our subjects' next degree in hope.
Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these
thoughts. . . .
Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland:—
Expedient’ manage must be made, my liege ;
Ere further leisure yield them further means
For their advantage, and your highness' loss.
K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war.
And, for * our coffers—with too great a court,
And liberal largess—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.
Bushy, what news 2
Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord;
Suddenly taken; and hath sent post-haste,
To entreat your majesty to visit him.
K. Rich. Where lies he P
Bushy. At Ely-house. §
K. Rich. Now put it, Heaven, in his physician's
To help him to his grave immediately!
The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him;
'Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late.