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Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.
Sluic'dout his innocentsoulthrough streams of blood: Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant ;
Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, Too good to be so, and too bad to live :
Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky,
To me, for justice, and rough chastisement; The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
And, by the glorious worth of my descent, Once more, the more to aggravate the note, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;
K. Rick. How high a pitch his resolution And wish, (so please my sovereign,) ere I move,
soars ! What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this ? prove.
Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face, Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: And bid his ears a little while be deaf, 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
Till I have told this slander of his blood, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar. Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain :
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this, Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say:
(As he is but my father's brother's son,) First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me Now by my scepter's awe I make a vow, From giving reins and spurs to my free speech : Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Which else would post, until it had return'd Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize These terms of treason doubled down his throat, The unstooping firmness of my upright soul; Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ; And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. I do defy him, and I spit at him ;
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Call him — a slanderous coward, and a villain : Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest ! Which to maintain, I would allow him odds, Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot
Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers : Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
The other part reserv'd I by consent; Or any other ground inhabitable ?,
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
Upon remainder of a dear account, Mean time, let this defend my loyalty, –
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
Now swallow down that lie. For Gloster's Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw
death, my gage,
I slew him not; but to my own disgrace, Disclaiming here the kindred of a king;
Neglected my sworn duty in that case.
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
I did confess it ; and exactly begg'd
Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, This is my fault : As for the rest appeal’d,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor :
Which in myself I boldly will defend ; And, when I mount, alive may I not light, And interchangeably hurl down my gage If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!
Upon this overweening traitor's foot, K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's To prove myself a loyal gentleman charge ?
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom ; It must be great, that can inherit us
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Your highness to assign our trial day. Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruld by it true ; —
me; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, Let's purge this choler without letting blood : In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers ; This we prescribe, though no physician; The which he hath detain'd for vile employments, Deep malice makes too deep incision : Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.
Forget, forgive ; conclude, and be agreed ; Besides I say, and will in battle prove,
Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed. Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge
Good uncle, let this end where it begun; That ever was survey'd by English eye,
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son. That all the treasons, for these eighteen years
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age: Complotted and contrived in this land,
Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Further I say, - and further will maintain
When, Harry? when ? Upon his bad life, to make all this good,
Obedience bids, I should not bid again. That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death ; K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there Suggest his soon-believing adversaries;
is no boot. S And, consequently, like a traitor coward,
Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot: ? Unhabitable.
3 No advantage in delay.
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame : Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
Rage must be withstood ; | Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair : Give me his gage :
- Lions make leopards tame. In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, Nor. Yea, but not change their spots : take but Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life, my shame,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee : And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, That which in mean men we entitle — patience, The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts. Is-spotless reputation ; that away,
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
The best way is -- to 'venge my Gloster's death. A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest
Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel ; for heaven's Is - a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
substitute, Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;
His deputy anointed in his sight, Take honour from me, and my life is done : Hath caus'd his death : the which if wrongfully, Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift. In that I live, and for that will I die.
angry arm against his minister. K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you
Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself? begin.
Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and Boling. O, God defend my soul from such foul sin!
defence. Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Before this outdar'd dastard ? Ere my tongue
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight : Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast ! The slavish motive of recanting fear;
Or, if misfortune miss the first career, And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's That they may break his foaming courser's back, face.
[Exit Gaunt. And throw the rider headlong in the lists, K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command: A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford ! Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's wife, Be ready as your lives shall answer it,
With her companion grief must end her life. At Coventry, upon saint Lambert's day;
Gaunt. Sister; farewell : I must to Coventry! There shall your swords and lances arbitrate As much good stay with thee, as go with me! The swelling difference of your settled hate;
Duch. Yet one word more; - Grief boundeth Since we cannot atone 4 you, we shall see
where it falls, Justice design 5 the victor's chivalry.
Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
I take my leave before I have begun;
Commend me to my brother, Edmund York,
Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
I shall remember more. Bid him — O, what? Enter GAUNT and Duchess of Gloster.
With all good speed at Plashy 6 visit me. Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood Alack, and what shall good old York there see, Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims,
But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, To stir against the butchers of his life.
Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ? But since correction lieth in those hands,
And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans? Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Therefore commend me; let him not come there, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where : Who when he sees the hours ripe on earth,
Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die; Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
SCENE III. Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ?
Gosford Green, near Coventry. Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, fc. attending. Were as seven phials of his sacred blood,
Enter the Lord Marshal, and AUMERLE. Or seven fair branches springing from one root : Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? Some of those branches by the destinies cut:
Aum. Yea, at all points : and longs to enter in. But, Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster,
Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, One phial full of Edward's sacred blood,
Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Aum. Why, then the champions are prepar'd and Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ;
For nothing but his majesty's approach. .5 Show.
6 Her house in Essex.
Flourish of Trumpets. Enter King RICHARD, who | As confident, as is the falcon's flight
takes his seat on his throne ; Gaunt, and several Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. Noblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is My loving lord, (To Lord Marshal.] I take my sounded, and answered by another trumpet within.
you; Then enter NORFOLK, in armour, preceded by a Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle ; Herald.
Not sick, although I have to do with death ; K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion
But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. The cause of his arrival here in arms:
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet Ask him his name; and orderly proceed
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet : To swear him in the justice of his cause.
O thou, the earthly author of my blood, Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who
[T. GAUNT. thou art,
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms :
Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up
thy prayers ;
To reach at victory above my head,
And with thy blessings steel'my lance's point, Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, Norfolk;
And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt, Who hither come engaged by my oath,
Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son. (Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate !)
Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
prosperous ! To God, my king, and my succeeding issue,
Be swift like lightning in the execution : Against the duke of Hereford that appeals me:
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm,
Fall like amazing thunder on the casque To prove him, in defending of myself,
Of thy advérse pernicious enemy: A traitor to my God, my king, and me:
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven !
Boling. Mine innocency, and saint George to
thrive! (He takes his seat.
(He takes his seat. Trumpet sounds. Enter BOLINGBROKE, in armour ;
Nor. [Rising.] However heaven, or fortune, cast
'my lot, preceded by a Herald.
There lives or dies, true to king Richard's throne, K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, A loyal, just, and upright gentleman : Both who he is, and why he cometh hither
Never did captive with a freer heart Thus plated in habiliments of war;
Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace And formally according to our law
His golden uncontroll’d enfranchisement, Depose him in the justice of his cause.
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st This feast of battle with mine adversary. thou hither,
Most mighty liege, — and my companion peers, Before king Richard, in his royal lists?
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years : Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? As gentle and as jocund, as to jest, Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! Go I to fight; Truth hath a quiet breast.
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, K. Rich. Farewell, my lord : securely I espy Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valour, Order the trial, marshal, and begin. In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, (The King and the Lords return to their seals. That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous,
Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me: Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven !
Boling. (Rising.) Strong as a tower in hope, I Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold,
cry — amen. Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists;
Mar. Go bear this lance (To an Officer.] to Except the marshal, and such officers
Thomas duke of Norfolk. Appointed to direct these fair designs.
1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, hand,
On pain to be found false and recreant, And bow my knee before his majesty :
To prove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men A traitor to his God, his king, and him, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ;
And dares him to set forward to the fight. Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke And loving farewell, of our several friends.
Both to defend himself, and to approve
Courageously, and with a free desire,
Attending but the signal to begin. So be thy fortune in this royal fight!
Mar. Sound trumpets; and set forward, comFarewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed,
[A charge sounded. Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. Stay, the king hath thrown his warder 7 down.
Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear ;
K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile spears,
This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate ; And both return back to their chairs again : - Nor never by advised purpose meet, Withdraw with us : - and let the trumpets sound, To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, While we return these dukes what we decree. 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
[A long flourish. Boling. I swear. Draw near,
[To the Combatants. Nor. And I, to keep all this. And list, what with our council we have done. Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy; For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd By this time, had the king permitted us, With that dear blood which it hath fostered ; One of our souls had wander'd in the air, And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours'swords, As now our flesh is banish'd from this land : [And for we think the eagle-winged pride
Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm; Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along With rival-hating envy, set you on
The clogging burden of a guilty soul. To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle Nor. No, Bolingbroke; If ever I were traitor, Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;] My name be blotted from the book of life, Which so rous'd up, with boisterous untun'd drums, And I from heaven banish'd as from hence ! With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know; And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. — Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace, Farewell, my liege: - Now no way can I stray; And make us wade even in our kindred's blood; Save back to England, all the world's my way. (Erit. Therefore we banish you our territories :
K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death,
I see thy grieved heart, thy sad aspect
Pluck'd four away;
Six frozen winters spent, But tread the stranger paths of banishment. Return [To BOLING.] with welcome home from Boling. Your will be done : This must my com
banishment. fort be,
Boling. How long a time lies in one little word! That sun that warms you here, shall shine on me; Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, And those his golden beams, to you here lent, End in a word ; such is the breath of kings. Shall point on me, and gild my banishinent.
Gaunt. I thank my liege, that in regard of me, K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, He shortens four years of my son's exíle : Which I with some unwillingness pronounce : But little vantage shall I reap thereby ; The fly-slow hours shall not determinate
For, ere the six years that he hath to spend, The dateless limit of thy dear exíle;
Can change their moons, and bring their times about, The hopeless word of - never to return
My oil-dried lamp, and time bewasted light, Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
Shall be extinct with age, and endless night; Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, My inch of taper will be burnt and done, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth : And blindfold death not let me see my son. A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. As to be cast forth in the common air,
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst give: Have I deserved at your highness' hand.
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, The language I have learn'd these forty years, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow: My native English, now I must forego,
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
Thy word, is current with him for my death;
But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. Or, being open, put into his hands
K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice; That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
Whereto thy tongue a party verdiet gave; Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower? Doubly portcullis'd, with my teeth, and lips ;
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion And dull, unfeeling barren ignorance Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
You urg'd me as a judge ; but I had rather, I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
You would have bid me argue like a father : Too far in years to be a pupil now;
O, had it been a stranger, not my child, What is thy sentence, then, but speechless death, To smooth his fault, I should have been more mild: Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? A partial slander 9 sought I to avoid,
K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate ; And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. After our sentence, plaining comes too late. Alas, I look’d, when some of you should say,
Nor. Then thus, Iturn me from my country's light, I was too strict, to make mine own away;
K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee. Against my will to do myself this wrong.
Six years we banish him, and he shall go. (Our part therein we banish with yourselves,)
(Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD and Trais. To keep the oath that we administer :
Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must not You never shall, (so help you truth and heaven!)
know, Embrace each other's love in banishment;
From where you do remain let paper show. Nor never look upon each other's face ;
* Had a part or share. 9 Reproach of partiality.
Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, As far as land will let me, by your side.
But to the next high way, and there I left him. Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends ?
were shed ? Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you, Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the north-east When the tongue's office should be prodigal
Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. Awak'd the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance,
Aum. Farewell :
Boling. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Should so profane the word, that taught me craft Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.
To counterfeit oppression of such grief, Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set
Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen’d The precious jewel of thy home-return.
But, since it would not, he had none of me.
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt, To foreign passages, and in the end,
When time shall call him home from banishment, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else,
Whether our kinsman come to sce his friends. But that I was a journeyman to grief?
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits, Observ'd his courtship to the common people :Are to a wise man ports and happy havens : How he did seem to dive into their hearts, Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
With humble and familiar courtesy ; There is no virtue like necessity.
What reverence he did throw away on slaves ; Think not, the king did banish thee;
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, But thou the king : Woe doth the heavier sit, And patient underbearing of his fortune, Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
As 'twere to banish their affects with him. Go, say - I sent thee forth to purchase honour, Otf goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ; And not — the king exil'd thee: or suppose, A brace of draymen bid - God speed him well, Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And had the tribute of his supple knee, And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
With - Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends; Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
As were our England in reversion his,
Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence strew'd;
thoughts. The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps no more Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland ; Than a delightful measure or a dance :
Expedient manage must be made, my liege; For gnarling ? sorrow hath less power to bite Ere further leisure yield them further means, The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. For their advantage, and your highness' loss.
Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand, K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
And, for our coffers — with too great a court, Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
And liberal largess — are grown somewhat light, By bare imagination of a feast?
We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm ; Or wallow naked in December snow,
The revenue whereof shall furnish us By thinking on fantastick summer's heat?
For our affairs in hand : If that come short, 0, no, the apprehension of the good,
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; Gives but the greater feeling to the worse :
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. And send them after to supply our wants; Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on For we will make for Ireland presently. thy way :
Enter Bushy, Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay.
Bushy, what news? Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell ; sweet
Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord; soil, adieu;
Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste, My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
To entreat your majesty to visit him. Where-e'er I wander, boast of this I can,
K. Rich. Where lies he? Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman.
Bushy. At Ely-house.
(Exeunt. SCENE IV.
X.Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's mind, - The same. A Room in the King's To help him to his grave immediately! Castle.
The lining of his coffers shall make coats Enter King RICHARD, Bagot, and GREEN; Au- To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. MERLE following.
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him : K. Rich. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle,
Pray heaven, we may make haste, and come too How far brought you high Hereford on his way?
[Exeunt. 1 Presence chamber at court. - Growling.