KING RICHARD.
Thy son is banished upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave.
Why at our justice seem’st thou then to lour?
GAUNT.
Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
You urged 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 destroyed.
Alas, I looked 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?
BOLINGBROKE.
I have too few to take my leave of you,
When the tongue’s office should be prodigal
To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
GAUNT.
Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
BOLINGBROKE.
Joy absent, grief is present for that time.