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* A partial sander fought I to avoid,
And in the sentence my own life destroy’d.
Alas, I look'd, when some of


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 fo; Six years we banish him, and he shall go. [Flourish.

(Exit. 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, Oh, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, That thou return'ít no greeting to thy friends ?

Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you,
When the tongue's office should be prodigal
To breathe the abundant dolour 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 fix 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 figh, when I miscall it fo,
Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.

Gaunt. The fullen 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,
A partial Lander)--The imputatiep of partiality.

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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 fent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not-the king exild thee : or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art Aying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com’it:
Suppose the singing birds, musicians
The grass whereon thou tread'ft, the presence ftrow'd ;
The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more,
Than a delightful measure or a dance :
For ' gnarling forrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.

Boling. Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast ?
Or waliow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
Oh, 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 fore.

Think not, the king did bonifh thee; but thou the king :)
" You common cry of curs ! -
I banillo you.


Car. e the presence frow'd ;)-the presence chamber, ftrow'd with rafbes. HENRY IV, Part I. A& III. S. i. Glend.


Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way: 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-e'er I wander, boast of this I can
Though banishid, yet a true-born Englishman. [Exeunt.

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Enter King Richard, and Bagot, &c. at one door, and the

Lord Aumerle at the other.
K. Rich. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerle,
How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next high-way, and there I left him.

K. Ricb. And, say, what store of parting tears were shed?

Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the neepy rheum; and so, by chance, Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted with

him ? Aum. Farewell : And for my heart disdained that my tongue Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief, That words seem buried in my forrow's grave. Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd 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. VOL. III.


K. Rich,

K. 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 Bulhy, Bagot here, and Green, Observ'd 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 Naves ; Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, And patient underbearing of his fortune, As 'twere, to banish their affects with him. of goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ; A brace of draymen bid-God speed him well, And had the tribute of his supple knee, With-Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends ;As were our England in reversion his, And he our subjects next degree in hope. Green. Well, he is gone; and with him


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. Ricb. 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 enforc'd 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 a blank charters;
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
They shall 'subscribe them for large sums of gold,

& Expedient)-Expeditious.
h blank charters;]-warrants to levy money.

subscribe them for large sums of gold,)-enforce them by their figa eatures to advance.


And send them after to supply our wants ;
For we will make for Ireland presently.

Enter Bushy.
K. Rich. Bushy, what news?

Busky, Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord;
Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste,
To intreat your majesty to visit him.

K. Rich. Where lies he?
Busby. At Ely-house.

K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind,
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 heaven, .we may make hafte, and come too late!


А стІІ.



A Room in Ely-house. Gaunt brought in, fick: with the duke of York. Gaunt. Will the king come? that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unftay'd youth.

York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Gaunt. Oh, but, they say, the tongues of dying men Inforce attention, like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain ; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. Сс 2


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