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 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, Suppose the singing birds, musicians; The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd ; The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more 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! SCENE IV.-A Room in the King's Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN; Aumerle following. 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 highway, and there I left him. K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears were shed? Aum. 'Faith, none for me, except the northeast wind, Which then blew bitterly against our face, 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 word seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd hours, And added years to his short banishment, : When time shall call him home from banishment, As were our England in reversion his, Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts. Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland; For our affairs in hand: if that come short, rich, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, Enter BUSHY. Bushy, what news? Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord; Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste, K. Rich. Where lies he? Bushy. At Ely House. K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind, To help him to his grave immediately! Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late! All. Amen. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I.-London. A Room in Ely House. GAUNT on a couch; the DUKE OF YORK and others standing by him. Gaunt. ILL the king come, that I may breathe my last In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth? York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath; For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. Gaunt. O, but they say the tongues of dying men Enforce attention, like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain ; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. He, that no more must say, is listen'd more Than they whom youth and ease have taught to glose; More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before; The setting sun, and music at the close, (As the last taste of sweets is sweetest,) last, Writ in remembrance, more than things long past; Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, |