ACT 1
3. SCENE III. Open Space, near Coventry. Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, &c., attending.
(continued)
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.
KING RICHARD.
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 can'st 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.
KING RICHARD.
Thy son is banish'd 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 urg'd 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.
KING RICHARD.
Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so:
Six years we banish him, and he shall go.
[Flourish. Exit KING RICHARD and Train.]
AUMERLE.
Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,
From where you do remain let paper show.
MARSHAL.
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,
That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?
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