But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know; 204
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I ;
Save back to England, all the worlds my way.
K. Rich. Uncle, even in the 208
I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect
Hath from the number of his banish'd years
Pluck'd four away.—[To Bolingbroke.] Six frozen winters spent,
Return with welcome home from banishment. 212
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 thank my liege, that 216
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, 220
My 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. 224
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; 228
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
206 stray: get lost
208 glasses: eyeballs
216 in regard of: out of consideration for
221 oil-dried: with oil exhausted