K. Rich.
Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy grieved heart; thy sad aspect,
Hath from the number of his banish'd years
Pluck'd four away; six frozen winters spent,
Return with welcome home from banishment.

Boling.
How long a time lies in one little word?
Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs
End in a word; such is the breath of Kings.

Gaunt.
I ^{q note}thank my Liege, that in regard of me
He shortens four years of my son's exile:
But little vantage shall I reap thereby;
For ere the six years that he hath to spend,
Can change their moons, and bring their times about,
My oyl-dry'd lamp, and time-bewasted light,
Shall be extinct with age, and endless night:
My inch of taper will be burnt, and done,
And blindfold death not let me see my son.

K. Rich.
Why uncle? thou hast many years to live.

Gaunt.
But not a minute, King, that thou canst give;
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow:
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage:
Thy word is currant with him, for my death;
But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.

K. Rich.
Thy son is banish'd upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave;
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to low'r?

Gaunt.
Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion sow'r:
You urg'd me as a judge, but I had rather
You would have bid me argue like a father.
Alas, I look'd 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 my self this wrong.
^{r note}A partial slander sought I to avoid,
And in the sentence my own life destroy'd.

K. Rich.
Cousin, farewel; and, uncle, bid him so:
Six years we banish him, and he shall go. [Flourish.] [Exit.

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