And, for our eyes do hate the dire afpect

Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour fwords;
[* And for we think, the eagle-winged pride
Of fky-afpiring and ambitious thoughts.
With rival-hating Envy fet you on,

To wake our Peace, which in our country's cradle
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle fleep;]
Which thus rouz'd up with boift'rous untun'd drums,
And harfh-refounding trumpets' dreadful Bray,
And grating fhock of wrathful iron arms,

2 And for awe think, the eagle winged pride, &c.] Thefe five verfes are omitted in the other editions, and restored from the first of 1598. POPE.

3 To wake our Peace, which thus rouz'd up. Might fright fair Peace,] Thus the fentence stands in the common reading, abfurdly enough: which made the Oxford Editor, inftead of, fright fair Peace, read, be affrighted; as if thefe latter words could ever, poffibly, have been blundered into the former by transcribers. But his bufinefs is to alter as his fancy leads him, not to reform errors, as the text and rules of criticism, direct. In a word, then, the true original. of the blunder was this: The Editors, before Mr. Pope, had taken their Editions from the Folios, in which the text ftood thus,

the dire afpect Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour fawords; Which thus rouz'd up,

fright fair Peace. This is fenfe. But Mr. Pope, who carefully examined the first printed plays in Quarto, (very much to the advantage of his

Edition) coming to this place,, found five lines, in the firft Edition of this play printed in 1598, omitted in the first general collection of the poet's works; and not enough attending to their agreement with the common text, put them into their place. Whereas, in truth, the five lines were omitted by Shakespeare himself, as not agreeing to the reft of the context; which, on revise, he thought fit to alter. On this account I have put them into hooks, not as fpurious, but as rejected on the author's revise; and, indeed, with great judgment; for, To rake our Peace, which in our country's cradle

Draws the fweet infant breath

Might

Might from our quiet Confines fright fair Peace,
And make us wade even in our kindred's blood:
Therefore, we banish you our Territories.
You coufin Hereford, on pain of death,

Till twice five Summers have enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair Dominions,

But tread the ftranger paths of Banishment.

Boling. Your will be done. This muft my comfort be,, That Sun, that warms you here, fhall fhine on me : And thofe his golden beams, to you here lent, Shall point on me, and gild my Banishment.

"

K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier Doom, Which I with fome unwillingness pronounce. The fly-flow hours fhall not determinate The datelefs limit of thy dear exile: The hopeless word, of never to return, Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

Mowb. A heavy Sentence, my moft fovereign Liege, And all unlook'd for from your Highnefs' mouth. A dearer merit, not fo deep a maim, ✦ As to be caft forth in the common air, Have I deferved at your Highness' hands. The language I have learn'd thefe forty years, My native English, now I must forego; And now my tongue's ufe is to me no more, Than an unftringed viol, or a harp; Or, like a cunning Inftrument cas'd Or being open, put into his hands

up,

That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you have engoal'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd with my Teeth and Lips;
And dull, unfeeling, barren Ignorance

Is made my Goaler to attend on me.

I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a Pupil now;

What is thy Sentence then, but fpeechless death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compaffionate;
After our Sentence, Plaining comes too late.

Mowb. Then thus I turn me from my Country's light, To dwell in folemn fhades of endless night.

K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with ye, Lay on our royal Sword your banish'd hands; Swear by the duty that you owe to heav'n,

(Our part therein we banish with your felves,) To keep the oath that we adminifter.

You never shall, fo help you truth, and heav'n!
Embrace each other's love in Banifhment;

Nor ever look upon each other's face,
Nor ever write, regreet, or reconcile

This low'ring tempeft of your home-bred hate;
Nor ever by advised purpose meet,

To plot, contrive, or complot any Ill,

'Gainft us, our State, our Subjects, or our Land. Boling. I fwear.

Mowb. And I, to keep all this.

Boling. Norfolk,fo fár, as to mine enemy
By this time, had the King permitted us,"
One of our fouls had wandred in the air,
Banish'd this frail fepulchre of our flesh,

s Compaffionate, for plaintive.

WARBURTON. (Our part, &c.] It is a queftion much debated amongft the writers of the Law of Nations, whether a banish'd man be till tied in allegiance to the ftate which fent him into exile. Tully and Lord Chancellor rendon declare for the affirmative: Hobbs and Pufendorf hold the negative. Our author, by this line, feems to be of the fame opinion WARB.

Norfolk,-fo far, &c] I do not clearly fee what is the fenfe of this abrupt line, but fuppofe the meaning to be this. Hereford immediately after his oath of perpetual enmity addreffes Norfolk, and, fearing fome mifconftruction, turns to the king and fays-jo far as to mine enemy

that is, I should fay n thing to him but what enemies may Jay to

each other.

As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land,
Confefs thy treafons, ere thou fly this Realm;
Since thou haft far to go, bear not along.
The clogging burthen of a guilty foul.

Mowb. No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor,
My Name be blotted from the Book of life,
And I from heaven banifh'd as from hence!
But what thou art, heav'n, thou, and I do know,
And all too foon, I fear, the King fhall rue.
Farewel, my Liege. Now no way can I stray,
Save back to England; all the world's my way." [Exit.

K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glaffes of thine eyes I fee thy grieved heart, thy fad afpect

Hath from the number of his banish'd years

Pluck'd four away.-Six frozen winters spent, [To Bol.
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; fuch is the Breath of Kings.
Gaunt. I thank my Liege, that in regard of me
He shortens four years of my fon's exile:
But little vantage shall I reap thereby;

For ere the fix years, that he hath to spend,

Can change their moons and bring their times about,
My oyl-dry'd lamp, and time-bewafted 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 fon.

K. Rich. Why, uncle? thou haft many years to live. Gaunt. But not a minute, King, that thou canft give j Shorten my days thou canft with fullen forrow,

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 current with him, for my death;
But dead, thy Kingdom cannot buy my breath.
K. Rich. Thy fon is banish'd upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave;
Why at our juftice feem'ft thou then to low'r ?
Gaunt.Things, fweet to tafte, prove in digeftion fow'r.
You urg'd me as a judge; but I had rather,
You would have bid me argue like a father.
O, had it been a ftranger, not my child,

To smooth his Fault, I would have been more mild:
Alas, I look'd, when fome of you should say,
I was too ftrict to make mine own away:
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue,
Against my will, to do my felf this wrong.
A partial flander + fought I to avoid,
And in the Sentence my own life destroy'd.

K. Rich. Coufin, farewel; and, uncle, bid him fo: Six years we banish him, and he fhall

go. [Flourish.

[Exit.

Aum. Coufin, farewel; what prefence must not know, From where you do remain, let paper show.

Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride As far as land will let me, by your fide.

Gaunt. Oh,to what purpose doft thou hoard thy words, That thou return'ft no Greeting to thy friends? 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.

And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow;] It is matter of very melancholy confideration, that all human advantages confer more power of do

C 3

ing evil than good.

+ A partial flander-] That is, the reproach of partiality. This is a juft picture of the Aruggle between principle and affection.

Boling.