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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'it for pleasure.

Boling. My heart will figh, when I miscall it so,
Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage.

Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps
Eneem a foil, wherein thou art to set
The precious jewel of thy home-return.

| Boling. Nay, rather, ev'ry tedious ftride I makes
Will but remember me, what a deal of World
I wander from the Jewels that I love.
Muit I not serve a long, Apprentice hood,
To foreign pattages, and in the End
Having my Freedom, boast of Nothing else
But that I was a Journeyman to Grief? *

Gaunt. 9 All Places that the Eye of Heaven visits, Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy neceslity to reason thus : There is no virtue like nécessity. 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 honour, 8 Boling. Nay, rather, ev'ry and a diy's ruo; k. However, he

tedious Stride I wake] This, is not to be censured for what he and the fir Veries which follow, himself rejected. I have ventur’d to supply from 9 All Places that the Eye of the old Quarto. The Allusion, Heav'n visits, &c. ) The 'tis true, to an A prenticeship, and fourteen verses that follow, are hecoming a yw'ne; mar, is not found in the firft Edition. Pope. in the fublime Tafe, nor, as Ho- I am inciined to believe that race has expressd it, / irat Tra- what Mr. Theobald and Mr. Pope gicum fctis : howerer as there is have restored were expunged in no Doubt of the Parrige being the revision by the authour : genuine, the lines are not to if the lines inclosed in crotchets defpi alle as to deserve being are omitted, the sense is more quite loft.

THEOBALD. coherent. Nothing is more fre*-Journeyman to Grief?] quent among dramatick writers, I am afraid our authour in this than to shorten their dialogues place defic ned a very poor quib- for the stage. ble, as journey fignifies both travel



And not, the King exil'd 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
Tolye that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'ft.
Suppose the singing birds, musicians;
The gråss whereon thou tread'it, the presence-floor;
The How'rs, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more
Than a delightful measure, or a dance.
For gnarling Sorrow hath less Pow'r 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 wallow naked in December snow,
By thinking on fantastick 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 sore.
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, farewel; sweet

soil, adieu,
My mother and my nurse, which bears me yet.
Where-e'er I wander, boast of this I can,
Though banish'd; yet a true-born Englifbman."


- yet a true-born English- a message from John of Gaunt, man] Here the firit act by which the king is called to ought to end, that between the visit him, which visit is paid in firit and second acts there may the following scene. As the play be time for Jon of Gaunt to is now divided, more time pasies accompany his son, return and between the two last scenes of fall fick

T'hen the first scene of the first act, than between thic. the second act begins with a na- firit act and the second. tural conversation, interrupted by



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

and the Lord Aumerle, at the other. K. Rich. E did, indeed, observe--Cousin

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. Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were

Ihed? Aum. 'Faith, none by me; except the north-east

wind, (Which then blew bitterly against our faces) Awak'd the neepy rheume; and so by chance Did grace our hollow Partir.g with a tear. K. Rich. What said your cousin, when you parted

with him? Aum. Farewel. 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'd buried in my sorrow's Grave. Marry, would the word farewel have lengthen’d hours, And added years to his short Banishment, He should have had a volume of farewels; But, since it would not, he had none of me.

K. Rich. He is our kinsman, Cousin; but 'tis doubt, When time shall call him home from Banishment, Whether our kinsinan come to see his friends. Our self, and Bushy, 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 courtefie?


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What reverence he did throw away on Naves,
Wooing poor crafts-men with the craft of smiles,
And patient under-bearing of his fortune,
As 'twere to banish their Affects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;
A brace of dray-men 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 go these

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 our self in person to this war;
And, for our coffers with too great a Court,
And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light,
We are inforc'd to farm our royal Realm,
The Revenue whereof shall furnith us
For our affairs in hand, if they 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.

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

Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is sick, my lord,
Suddenly taken, and hath sent poft-han
T'intreat your Majesty to visit him.

K. Rich. Where lyes he ?
Bussy. Ac Ely-bouse.
K. Rich. Now put it, heav'n, 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 Frish wars.
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him :
Pray heav'n, we may make haste, and come too late!




E L 7-HOU S E.

Gaunt brought in, fick; with the Duke of York.



ILL the King come, that I may breathe my last

In wholesome counsel to his unstay'd youth? York. Vex not your self, 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 fcarce, they're feldom fpent in vain ; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. He, that no more must tay, is listen’d more Than they, whom youth and ease have taught to glose, More are inen's ends mark'd, than their lives before ; The setting Son, and musick in the clofe, As the lait taste of sweets, is sweetest last; Writ in remembrance, more than things long past. Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, My death's sad Tale may yet undeaf his ear.

Pork. His ear is stopt with other fatt'ring charms, As praises of his State ; there are, beside, Lascivious meeters, to whose venom'd found The open car of youth doth always listen:


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