Page 2879 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1
P. 2879
Cousin, farewell; what presence must not know,
From where you do remain let paper show. [250]
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 returnest no greeting to thy friends?
BOLINGBROKE
I have too few to take my leave of you, [255]
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.
GAUNT
What is six winters? They are quickly gone. [260]
BOLINGBROKE
To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.
GAUNT
Call it a travel that thou tak’st for pleasure.
BOLINGBROKE
My heart will sigh when I miscall it so,
Which finds it an enforcèd pilgrimage.
GAUNT
The sullen passage of thy weary steps [265]
Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set
The precious jewel of thy home return.
