Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongue's office fhould be prodigal, To breathe th' abundant dolour of the heart. Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy abfence for a time. Boling. Joy abfent, grief is prefent 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 mifcall it fo, Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage.

Gaunt. The fullen paffage of thy weary steps Efteem a foil, wherein thou art to fet

The precious jewel of thy home-return.

Boling. Nay, rather, ev'ry tedious ftride I make (8)
Will but remember me, what a deal of World
I wander from the Jewels that I love.

Muft I not ferve a long Apprentice-hood,
To foreign paffages, 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 vifits,

Are to a wife man ports and happy havens.
Teach thy neceffity to reason thus:

There is no virtue like neceffity.

Think not, the King did banish Thee;

But Thou the King. [Woe doth the heavier fit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.

(8) Boling. Nay, rather, ev'ry tedious Stride I make.] This, and the fix Verfes which follow, I have ventur'd to fupply from the old Quarto. The Allufion, 'tis true, to an Apprenticeship, and becoming a Journeyman, is not in the fublime Tafte, nor, as Horace has exprefs'd it, fpirat tragicum fatis: however as there is no Doubt of the Paffage being genuine, the Lines are not fo defpicable as to deferve being quite loft. THEOBALD.

*

Journeyman to Grief?] I am afraid our author in this place defigned a very poor quibble, as journey fignifies both travel and a day's work. However, he is not to be cenfured for what he himself rejected.

(9) All places that the Eye of Heav'n vifits, &c.] The fourteen verfes that follow, are found in the first Edition.

POPE.

I am inclined to believe that what Mr. Theobald and Mr. Pope have restored were expunged in the revifion by the author: if the lines inclosed in crotchets are omitted, the fenfe is more coherent. Nothing is more frequent among dramatick writers, than to shorten their dialogues for the stage.

Go

Go fay, I fent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not, the King exil'd thee. Or suppose,
Devouring Peftilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy foul holds dear, imagine it

To lye that way thou go'ft, not whence thou com'ft.
Suppofe the finging birds, muficians;

The grafs whereon thou tread'ft, the prefence-floor;
The flow'rs, fair ladies; and thy fteps, no more
Than a delightful meafure, or a dance.

For gnarling Sorrow hath lefs Pow'r to bite
The man that mocks at it, and fets it light.]
Boling. Oh, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frofty Caucafus ?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feaft?
Or wallow naked in December (now,
By thinking on fantaftick Summer's heat?
Oh, no! the apprehenfion of the good
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse;
Fell forrow's tooth doth never rankle more
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the fore.
Gaunt. Come, come, my fon, I'll bring thee on thy
way;

Had I thy Youth, and Caufe, I would not ftay.
Boling Then, England's Ground, farewel; fweet
foil, adieu,

My mother and my nurfe, which bears me
me yet.
Where-e'er I wander, boast of this I can,
Though banish'd; yet a true-born Englishman. (1)

[Exeunt.

(1) yet a true-born Englishman.] Here the first act ought to end, that between the first and fecond acts there may be time for John of Gaunt to accompany his fon, return and fall fick. Then the first scene of the second act begins with a natural converfation, interrupted by a meffage from John of Gaunt, by which the king is called to vifit him, which vifit is paid in the following scene. As the play is now divided, more time paffes between the two laft fcenes of the first act, than between the first act and the fecond.

SCENE

SCENE VII.

Changes to the Court.

Enter King Richard, and Bagot, &c. at one door; and the Lord Aumerle, at the other.

7E did, indeed, obferve

K. Rich. W

Aumerle,

Coufin

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 fay, what ftore of parting tears were fhed?

Aum. 'Faith, none by me; except the north-eaft wind,

(Which then blew bitterly againft our faces) Awak'd the fleepy rheume; and fo by chance Did grace our hollow Parting with a tear.

K. Rich. What faid your coufin, when you parted with him?

Aum. Farewel.

And, for my heart difdained that my tongue
Should fo prophane the word, 'That taught me craft
To counterfeit oppreffion of fuch grief,

That words feem'd buried in my forrow's Grave.
Marry, would the word farewel have lengthen'd hours,
And added years to his fhort Banifhment,

He fhould have had a volume of farewels;

But fince it would not, he had none of me.

K. Rich. He is our kinfman, Coufin; but 'tis doubt, When time fhall call him home from Banishment, Whether our kinfman come to fee his friends. Our felf, and Busby, Bagot here, and Green, Obferv'd his Courtship to the common people: How he did feem to dive into their hearts, With humble and familiar courtefie? What reverence he did throw away on flaves, Wooing poor crafts-men with the craft of fmiles, And patient under-bearing of his fortune, As 'twere to banish their Affects with him. Off goes his bonnet to an oyfter-wench;

A brace

A brace of dray-men bid, God fpeed him well!
And had the tribute of his fupple knee;
With--Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends-
As were our England in reverfion his,

And he our Subjects' next degree in hope.

Green. Well, he is gone, and with him go thefe thoughts..

Now for the Rebels, which ftand out in Ireland,
Expedient Manage must be made, my Liege;
Ere further leifure yield them further means
"For their advantage, and your Highness' lofs.
K. Rich. We will our felf in perfon to this war;
And, for our coffers with too great a Court,
And liberal largefs, are grown fomewhat light,
We are inforc'd to farm our royal Realm,
"The Revenue whereof shall furnish us

For our affairs in hand; if they come short,
Our Substitutes at home fhall have blank charters,
Whereto, when they fhall know what men are rich,
They fhall fubfcribe them for large fums of gold,
And fend them after to fupply our wants;
For we will make for Ireland prefently.

Enter Bushy.

K. Rich. Bufby, what news?

Bufby. Old John of Gaunt is fick, my lord, Suddenly taken, and hath fent poft-hafte

Tintreat your Majefty to vifit him.

K. Rich. Where lyes he?

Bufby. At Ely-boufe.

K. Rich. Now put it, heav'n, in his phyfician's mind, To help him to his Grave immediately. The lining of his coffers fhall make coats To deck our rfoldiers for these Irish wars. Come, gentlemen, let's all go vifit him:

Pray heav'n, we may make hafte, and come too late!

Exeunt.

A C T

ACT II SCENEI.

ELY-HOUSE.

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

WILL

laft

ILL the King come, that I may breathe my In wholesome counsel to his unftay'd youth? York. Vex not your felf, nor ftrive not with your breath;

For all in vain comes counfel to his ear.

Gaunt. Oh, but, they fay, the tongues of dying men Inforce attention, like deep harmony:

Where words are scarce, they're feldom fpent in vain ; For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain. He, that no more muft fay, is liften'd more

Than they, whom youth and ease have taught to glofe,
More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before;
The fetting Sun, and mufic in the close,

As the laft taste of sweets, is sweetest last;
Writ in remembrance, more than things long paft.
Though Richard my life's counfel would not hear,
My death's fad Tale may yet undeaf his ear.

York. His ear is ftopt with other flatt'ring charms,
As praises of his State; there are, befide,
Lafcivious meeters, to whofe venom'd found
The open ear of youth doth always liften:
Report of Fashions in proud Italy (2),
Whofe manner ftill our tardy, apifh, Nation
Limps after, in bafe aukward imitation.
Where doth the world thruft forth a vanity
(So it be new, there's no refpect how vile)
That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears?ved you!
Then all too late comes counfel to be heard,

(2) Report of fafbions in proud Italy.] Our authour, who gives to all nations the cuftoms of England, and to all ages the manners of his own; has charged the times of Richard with a folly not perhaps known then, but very frequent in Shakespeare's time, and much la mented by the wifest and best of our ancestors.

Where