Enter the Bastard. Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, And spleen of speed to see your majesty! K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye: The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd, And all the shrouds wherewith my life should sail Are turned to one thread, one little hair: My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then all this thou seest is but a clod And module of confounded royalty. Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward, Where heaven He knows how we shall answer him; For in a night the best part of my power, As I upon advantage did remove, Were in the Washes all unwarily Devoured by the unexpected flood. [The king dies. Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear. My liege! my lord! but now a king, now thus. P. Hen. Even so must I run on, and even so stop. What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, When this was now a king, and now is clay? Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind To push destruction and perpetual shame Sal. It seems you know not, then, so much as we : The Cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already; With whom yourself, myself and other lords, Bast. Let it be so: and you, my noble prince, Bast. Thither shall it then: Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore. (thanks P. Hen. I have a kind soul that would give you And knows not how to do it but with tears. Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, Since it hath been beforehand with our griefs. This England never did, nor never shall, Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror, But when it first did help to wound itself. Now these her princes are come home again, Come the three corners of the world in arms, [rue, And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt. SCENE I.- London. King Richard's palace. Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants. K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lan- | Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, [caster, Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Gaunt. I have, my liege. [him, K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded On some known ground of treachery in him? [ment, Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray. [us, K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatters As well appeareth by the cause you come; Namely, to appeal each other of high treason. Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Boling. First, heaven be the record to my speech! In the devotion of a subject's love, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, I. Come I appellant to this princely presence. I do defy him, and I spit at him; Call him a slanderous coward and a villain: [gage, If guilty dread have left thee so much strength Mow. I take it up; and by that sword I swear, [charge? K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's It must be great that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. [it true; Boling. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides I say and will in battle prove, Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge That ever was survey'd by English eye, That all the treasons for these eighteen years Complotted and contrived in this land [spring. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and Further I say and further will maintain Upon his bad life to make all this good, That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death, Suggest his soon-believing adversaries, And consequently, like a traitor coward, [blood: Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries, Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, To me for justice and rough chastisement; And, by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars! Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? Mow. O, let my sovereign turn away his face And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Till I have told this slander of his blood, How God and good men hate so foul a liar. [ears: K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, As he is but my father's brother's son, Now, by my sceptre's awe, I make a vow, Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize The unstooping firmness of my upright soul: He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. Mow. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. [me; In haste whereof, most heartily I pray K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame. Mow. Yea, but not change his spots: take but my And I resign my gage. My dear, dear lord, [shame, The purest treasure mortal times afford Is spotless reputation: that away, Men are but gilded loam or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; Take honour from me, and my life is done: Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; In that I live and for that will I die. [begin. K. Rich. Cousin, throw up your gage; do you Boling. O, God defend my soul from such deep Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight? [sin! Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound my 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, SCENE II. The Duke of Lancaster's palace. Gaunt. Alas, the part I had in Woodstock'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 they see the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, Were as seven vials of his sacred blood, Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent Gaunt. God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, His deputy anointed in His sight, Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully, Duch. Where then, alas, may I complain myself? Guunt. To God, the widow's champion and defence. Duch. Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou goest 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: Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. And what hear there for welcome but my groans? [Exeunt. SCENE III.- The lists at Coventry. Enter the Lord Marshal and the Duke of 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 prepared, and For nothing but his majesty's approach. [stay. The trumpets sound, and the King enters with his nobles, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and others. When they are set, enter Mowbray in arms, defendant, with 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. [art Mar. In God's name and the king's, say who thou And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms, Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarSpeak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath; rel: As so defend thee heaven and thy valour! Mow. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of NorWho hither come engaged by my oath- [folk; Which God defend a knight should violate! Both to defend my loyalty and truth To God, my king and my succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me; And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, To prove him, in defending of myself, A traitor to my God, my king, and me: And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! The trumpets sound. Enter Bolingbroke, uppellant, in armour, with a Herald. K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war, And formally, according to our law, Depose him in the justice of his cause. Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither, [rel? Before King Richard in his royal lists? [hand, Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour, In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous, To God of heaven, King Richard and to me; And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, Except the marshal and such officers' Appointed to direct these fair designs. Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's And bow my knee before his majesty: For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; Then let us take a ceremonious leave And loving farewell of our several friends. Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highAnd craves to kiss your hand and take his leave. K. Rich. We will descend and fold him in our arms. Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this royal fight! Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. [ness, Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear: As confident as is the falcon's flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My loving lord, I take my leave of you; Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle; Not sick, although I have to do with death, But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: O thou, the earthly author of my blood, Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, [perous! Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. Mow. However God or fortune cast my lot, Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. Order the trial, marshal, and begin. Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, First Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, And dares him to set forward to the fight. And those his golden beams to you here lent Mow. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, Or like a cunning instrument cased up, Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony: K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate: K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee. Sec. Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke To keep the oath that we administer: of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, Henry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, com- And both return back to their chairs again : [A long flourish. Draw near, To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle [be, You never shall, so help you truth and God! To plot, contrive, or complot any ill Mow. And I, to keep all this. Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:- Mow. No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor, [Exit. |