Not sick, although I have to do with death; [To GAUNT. Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son. Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosperous ! Be swift like lightning in the execution; And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, Of thy adverse pernicious enemy: Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. Boling. Mine innocency, and Saint George to thrive! [He takes his seat. Nor. [Rising.] However heaven, or fortune, cast my lot, There lives, or dies, true to king Richard's throne, Never did captive with a freer heart Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,- Go I to fight; Truth hath a quiet breast. [The King and the Lords return to their seats. Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance, and God defend the right! Boling. [Rising.] Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. 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, 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, Attending but the signal to begin. Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants. [A charge sounded. Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down. K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again :~ [A long flourish. [To the Combatants. Draw near, For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd Of civil wounds, plough'd up with neighbours' swords; Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating envy, set you on To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace, But tread the stranger paths of banishment. Boling. Your will be done: This must my comfort be, That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me ; 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, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: A dearer merit, not so deep a maim As to be cast forth in the common air, Have I deserved at your highness' hand. Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up, Or, being open, put into his hands, That knows no touch to tune the harmony. What is thy sentence then, but speechless death, Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. [Retiring. K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee. Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven, You never shall (so help you truth and heaven!) Nor never look upon each other's face; This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate; 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 ;- 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 banished years Pluck'd four away;-Six frozen winters spent, |