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- Edition: Richard II
Richard II (Folio 1, 1623)
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The life and death of Richard the second. 27
479Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile
480This lowring tempest of your home-bred hate,
482To plot, contriue, or complot any ill,
485Mow. And I, to keepe all this.
487By this time (had the King permitted vs)
488One of our soules had wandred in the ayre,
492Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along
493The clogging burthen of a guilty soule.
494Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor,
495My name be blotted from the booke of Life,
496And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence:
497But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know,
499Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray,
500Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way. Exit.
503Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares
504Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent,
505Returne with welcome home, from banishment.
506Bul. How long a time lyes in one little word:
507Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs
508End in a word, such is the breath of Kings.
509Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me
511But little vantage shall I reape thereby.
513Can change their Moones, and bring their times about,
514My oyle-dride Lampe, and time-bewasted light
516My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done,
521And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow:
522Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age,
523But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage:
524Thy word is currant with him, for my death,
525But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.
527Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gaue,
530You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather
531You would haue bid me argue like a Father.
534But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong,
538Flourish.
540From where you do remaine, let paper show.
541Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride
542As farre as land will let me, by your side.
544That thou teturnst no greeting to thy friends?
545Bnll. I haue too few to take my leaue of you,
547To breath th' abundant dolour of the heart.
551Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten.
554Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage.
557The precious Iewell of thy home returne.
560Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
561by bare imagination of a Feast?
562Or Wallow naked in December snow
564Oh no, the apprehension of the good
565Giues but the greater feeling to the worse:
566Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more
567Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
571My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet:
572Where ere I wander, boast of this I can,
574Scoena Quarta.
575Enter King, Aumerle, Greene, and Bagot.
577How far brought you high Herford on his way?
579but to the next high way, and there I left him.
582Which then grew bitterly against our face,
584Did grace our hollow parting with a teare.
587Should so prophane the word, that taught me craft
590Marry, would the word Farwell, haue lengthen'd houres,
592He should haue had a voIume of Farwels,
593but since it would not, he had none of me.
599How he did seeme to diue into their hearts,
600With humble, and familiat courtesie,
601What reuerence he did throw away on slaues;
603And patient vnder-bearing of his Fortune,
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