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for we thinke the eagle-winged pride,
Of skie-aspiring and ambitious thoughts
With riual-hatiug enuie set on you,
To wake our peace, which in our countries cradle
Drawes the sweet infant breath of gentle sleepe,
Which so rouzd vp with boystrous vntunde drummes,
With harsh resounding trumpets dreadfull bray,
And grating shocke of wrathfull yron armes,
Might from our quiet confines fright faire peace,
And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood :
Therefore we banish you our territories.
You coofin Herford, vpon paine of life t,
Till twice fiue summers haue enricht our field,
Shall not regreete our faire dominions,
But tread the stranger pathes of banishment.

Bul. Your will be done ; this must my comfort be,
That sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me,
And those his golden beames onto I you heere lent,
Shall point on me, and guild my banishment.

King. Norfolke, for thee remaines a heauier doome,
Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce,
The slie Now howres shall not determinate.
The datelesse limit of thy deare exile :
The hopelesse word of neuer to returne,
Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life.

Mow. A heauic fentence, my most foueraigne liege,
And all vnlookt for from your highnesse mouth,
A dearer merit, not so deepe a mayme,
As to be cast foorth in the common ayre,
Haue I deserued at your highnesse hands :
The language I haue learnd these fortie reares,

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* These five lines are omiited in one of the Copies.



My natiuc English now I must forgoe,
And now my tongues vse is to me no more
Than an vnstringed violl or a harpe,
Or like a cunning instrument cafde vp,
Or being open, put into his hands
That knowes no touch to tune the harmonię.
Within my mouth you haue ingayld my tongue,
Doubly percullift * with my teeth and lippes,
And dull vnfeeling barren ignorance
Is made my iayler to attend on me :
I am too old to fawne vppon a nurse,
To farre in yeares to be a pupill now.
What is thy sentence but speachlesse death ;
Which robbes my tongue from breathing natiue breath?

King. It bootes thee not to be compassionate,
After our sentence, playning comes too late.

Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light,
To dwell in folemne fhades of endlesle night.

King. Returne againe, and take an oath with thee,
Lay on our royall sword your banisht hands.
Sweare by the dutie that y’owe to God t,
(Our part therein we banish with your selues)
To keepe the oath that we administer :
You neuer shall, so helpe you truth and God I,
Embrace each others loue in banishment,
Nor neuer || looke vpon each others face,
Nor neuer s write; regreete, nor tt reconcile
This louing 11 tempest of your home-bred hate,
Nor neuer Ill by aduised purpose meete,
To plotte, contriue, or complot any ill,
Gainst vs, our state, our subiects, or our land.

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Bul. I sweare.
Mow. And I, to keepe all this.

Bul. Norfolke, so fare as to mine enemie :
By this time, had the king permitted vs,
One of our foules had wandred in the ayre,
Banisht this fraile fepulchre of our flesh,
As now our flesh is banisht from this land.
Confefse thy treasons ere thou fly the realme,
Since thou hast farre to goe, bearę not along
The cloging burthen of a guiltie foule.

Mow. No Bullingbrooke, if euer I were traytour,
My name be blotted from the booke of life,
And I from heauen banisht, as from hence :
But what art thou, God , thou, and I, do know,
And all too soone (I feare) the king shall rew.
Farewell, (my liege) now no way can I stray,
Saue backe to England, all the world's my way.

King. Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eies,
I see thy grieued heart: thy fad aspect
Hath from the number of his banisht yeares
Pluckt foure away, lixe frozen winters spent,
Returne with welcome home from banishment.

Bul. How long a time lies in one little word ?
Foure lagging winters, and foure wanton springs,
End in one | word ; such is the breath of kings.

Gaunt. I thanke my liege, that in regard of mee,
He shortens foure yeares of my sonnes exile ;
But little vantage shall I reape thereby :
For ere the $ fixe yeares that he hath to spend
Can change their * moones, and bring their times about,
My oyle-dryed lampe, and time bewasted light

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Shall be extinct with age and endlesse night:
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
And blindfold death not let me fee my

King. Why vnckle, thou hast many yeares to liue.

Gaunt. But not a minute (king) that thou canst giue :
Shorten my daies thou canst with fullen + sorrow,
And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow.
Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age,
But stoppe no wrinkle in his pilgrimage :
Thy word is currant with him for my death,
But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.

King. Thy fonne is banisht with good aduise,
Whereto thy tongue, a party, verdict gaue,
Why at our iustice seemst thou then to lowre?

Gaunt. Things sweet to tast, prooue in digestion fowre.
You vrge me as a iudge, but I had rather
You would haue bid me argue like a father.

Oh had't been a stranger, not my child,
To smooth his fault I would haue been more milde :
A partiall Naunder fought ģ I to auoyde,
And in the sentence my owne life destroyde.
Alas, I lookt when some of you should say,
I was too strict to make mine owne away:
But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tongue,
Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong,

King. Coosen farewell, and vnckle bid him so;
Sixe yeares we banish him, and he thall go *

Au. Coosin farewell ; what presence must not know From where you doe remaine, let paper show.

Mar. My lord no leaue take I, for I will ride As farre as land will let me, by your side.

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I urg'd Il These four lines are wanting in one of the copies. $ougbe * Flourish. Exir


Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words
That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends?

Bul. I haue too few to take my leaue of you,
When the tongues office should be prodigall,
To breath the abundant dolour of the heart.

Gaunt. Thy griefe is but thy absence for a time.
Bul. Ioy absent, griefe is present for that time.
Gaunt. What is fixe winters ? they are quickly gone.
Bul. To men in ioy, but griefe makes one howre ten.
Gaunt. Call it a trauaile that thou takst for pleasure.

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

Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy wearie steps
Esteeme a foyle + wherein thou art to fet,
The precious iewell of thy home returne.

| Bul. Nay rather euery tedious stride I make,
Will but remember me what || deale of world
I wander from the iewels that I loue.
Must I not ferue a long apprentisbood
To forren pasages, and in the end,
Hauing my freedome, boast of nothing else,
But that I was a journey-man to griefe ?

Gaunt. All places that the eie of heauen visites,
Are to a wise man ports and happy hauens.
Teach thy necessitie to reason thus.
There is no vertue like necesitie :
Thinke not the king did banib thee
But thou the king, who g doth the heauier sit,
Where it perceiues it is but faintly borne :
Go, Say I sent thee foorth to purchase honour,
And not the king exilde thee ; or suppose

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I These lines are found in the first and third edition, but are omitted in the fourth, || wbal a Swoce


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