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Both to defend himself, and to approve
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal;
Courageously, and with a free desire,
Attending but the signal to begin.

combatants.

Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, [A charge sounded. 2 Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down. K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,

And both return back to their chairs again :
Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound,
While we return these dukes what we decree.
[A long flourish.
[To the combatants.] Draw near,
And list, what with our council we have done.
For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspéct
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours'
swords;

And for we think the eagle-winged pride
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
With rival-hating envy, set on you

To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle

Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums,

With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreaded bray,
And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace,
And make us wade even in our kindred's
blood;-

Therefore we banish you our territories:
You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,

Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields, Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

But tread the stranger paths of banishment. Boling. Your will be done: this must my comfort be,

That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on

me;

And those his golden beams, to you here lent,
Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.

K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,

Which I with some unwillingness pronounce :
The fly-slow hours shall not determinate
The dateless limit of thy dear exile ;-
The hopeless word of,-Never to return,
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,

And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth.
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim

As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your highness' hands.
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I must forego:
And now my tongue's use is to me no more
Than an unstringed viol, or a harp;
Or like a cunning instrument cased up,
Or, being open, put into his hands

That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue,,
Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;
And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a pupil now;

What is thy sentence, then, but speechless death,

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Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?

K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate;

After our sentence plaining comes too late. Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's light,

To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.

[Retiring. K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee.

Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands;
Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven,
(Our part therein we banish with yourselves,)
To keep the oath that we administer :-

You never shall (so help you truth and heaven!)
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor ever look upon each other's face;
Nor ever write, regreet, or reconcile

This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate;
Nor ever by advisèd purpose meet

To plot, contrive, or complot any ill

'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. Boling. I swear.

Nor. And I, to keep all this.

Boling. Norfolk, -so far as to mine enemy;
By this time, had the king permitted us,
One of our souls had wander'd in the air,
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh,

As now our flesh is banish'd from this land:
Confess thy treasons ere thou fly this realm
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burden of a guilty soul.

;

Nor. No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor,

My name be blotted from the book of life,
And I from heaven banish'd as from hence!

But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know;
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
Farewell, my liege.--Now no way can I stray;
Save back to England, all the world's my way.
[Exit.
K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine

eyes

I see thy grieved heart; thy sad aspect Hath from the number of his banish'd years Pluck'd four away :-[to BOLING.] six frozen winters spent,

Return with welcome home from banishment. Boling. How long a time lies in one little word! Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, End in a word: such is the breath of kings.

Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of me, He shortens four years of my son's exile; But little vantage shall I reap thereby ;

For ere the six years that he hath to spend
Can change their moons, and bring their times
about,

My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light,
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 banish'd upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave;
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour?
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste prove in diges-
tion 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 destroy'd.
Alas, I look'd 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. RICHARD and Train. Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,

From where you do remain, let paper show. Mar. My lord, no leave take Î; for I will ride As far as land will let me, by your side.

Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,

That thou return'st 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

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