Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal : "Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Call him - a slanderous coward, and a villain : Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: If I be traitor, or unjustly fight! Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood: Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? ears: Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen : death, I slew him not; but to my own disgrace, K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's To prove myself a loyal gentleman charge? It must be great, that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it true; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. 2 Unhabitable. Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom: K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by My life thou shalt command, but not my shame : K. Rich. Rage must be withstood; Give me his gage: - Lions make leopards tame. Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: take but my shame, And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. -a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin. Boling. O, God defend my soul from such foul sin! Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this outdar'd dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear; And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. [Exit GAUNT. K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command: Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry, upon saint Lambert's day; There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate; Since we cannot atone 4 you, we shall see Justice design 5 the victor's chivalry. Marshal command our officers at arms Be ready to direct these home-alarms. SCENE II. [Exeunt. The same. A Room in the Duke of Lancaster's Palace. Enter GAUNT and DUCHESS OF GLOSter. Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims, To stir against the butchers of his life. But since correction lieth in those hands, Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; Who when he sees the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent His deputy anointed in his sight, Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully, Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself? Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence. Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! Or, if misfortune miss the first career, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, That they may break his foaming courser's back, And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford ! Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's wife, With her companion grief must end her life. Gaunt. Sister; farewell: I must to Coventry! As much good stay with thee, as go with me! Duch. Yet one word more;- Grief boundeth where it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans? [Exeunt. SCENE III. Gosford Green, near Coventry. Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, &c. attending. Enter the Lord Marshal, and AUMERLE. Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? Aum. Yea, at all points: and longs to enter in. Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. Aum. Why, then the champions are prepar'd and stay For nothing but his majesty's approach. 6 Her house in Essex. Flourish of Trumpets. Enter KING RICHARD, who takes his seat on his throne; Gaunt, and several Noblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter NORFOLK, in armour, preceded by a Herald. K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms: Ask him his name; and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his cause. Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who thou art, And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms: Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel: Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath; And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, Norfolk ; Who hither come engaged by my oath, Trumpet sounds. And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt, Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosperous! Be swift like lightning in the execution : Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live. There lives or dies, true to king Richard's throne, Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st This feast of battle with mine adversary. · thou hither, Before king Richard, in his royal lists? Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold, Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his majesty : Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness, And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave. K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our Mar. Go bear this lance [To an Officer.] to Thomas duke of Norfolk. 1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, On pain to be found false and recreant, To prove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, A traitor to his God, his king, and him, And dares him to set forward to the fight. 2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, Mar. Sound trumpets; and set forward, com[A charge sounded. Stay, the king hath thrown his warder 7 down. batants. Truncheon. K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their | Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile spears, And both return back to their chairs again :- [ A long flourish. Draw near, [To the Combatants. And list, what with our council we have done. For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd With that dear blood which it hath fostered; And for our eyes do hate the dire aspéct Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' swords, [And for we think the eagle-winged pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating envy, set you on To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle But tread the stranger paths of banishment. Boling. Your will be done : This must my com. fort be, That sun that warms you here, shall shine on me ; And those 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 some unwillingness pronounce: The fly-slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile; — The hopeless word of- - never to return Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, That knows no touch to tune the harmony. Nor. Then thus, Iturn me from my country's light, This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate; Nor never by advised purpose meet, To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. Boling. I swear. Nor. And I, to keep all this. Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy ; By this time, had the king permitted us, One of our souls had wander'd in the air, Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this land: Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm; Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul. Nor. No, Bolingbroke; If ever I were traitor, My name be blotted from the book of life, And I from heaven banish'd as from hence! But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know; And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. — Farewell, 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 glasses of thine eyes I see thy grieved heart, thy sad aspéct Hath from the number of his banish'd years Pluck'd four away; Six frozen winters spent, Return [To BOLING.] 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 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 oil-dried 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 current 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 lower? Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion sour. You urg'd me as a judge; but I had rather, [Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD and Train. Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence 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 side. Gaunt. O,to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words, That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you, 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. Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly gone. Boling. To men in joy: but grief makes one hour ten. Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure. Boling. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits, But thou the king: Woe doth the heavier sit, Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour, To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com'st: 2 For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! Castle. Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so, But to the next high way, and there I left him. K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears were shed? Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Aum. Farewell : And, for my heart disdain'd that my tongue Should so profane the word, that taught me craft To counterfeit oppression of such grief, That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd hours, And added years to his short banishment, K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 'tis doubt, A brace of draymen bid - God speed him well, Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts. Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland; K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. And, for our coffers with too great a court, And liberal largess are grown somewhat light, We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm; The revenue whereof shall furnish us For our affairs in hand: If that come short, Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters; Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold, And send them after to supply our wants; For we will make for Ireland presently. Enter BUSHY, |