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,
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.

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 out-dar'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* you, we shall see
Justice designt the victor's chivalry.-
Marshal, command our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home-alarms.

[Exeunt.

Yet art thou slain in him: Thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seest thy wretched bro her die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we entitle-patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is-to 'venge my Gloster's death.
Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's
substitute,

His deputy anointed in his sight, [fully
Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrong.
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
An angry arm against his minister.
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 husbaud'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
back,

And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
A caitifft recreant to my cousin Hereford!
Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime 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:
I take my leave before I have begun;
For sorrow ends not when it seemeth' done.
Commend me to my brother, Edmund York.
Lo, this is all:-Nay, yet depart not so;
Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
I shall remember more. Bid him-O, what?-
Alack, and what shall good old York there see,
With all good speed at Plashy visit me.
But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?
And what cheer there for welcome, but my
[there,
Therefore commend me; let him not come
Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die;
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where:
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
[Exeunt.

groans?

my leave of you ;

thou art,

[pion

quarrel:

Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath; And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk;

Guunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosperous!

Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:

[live.

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
com'st thou hither,

Before King Richard, in his royal lists?
Against whom comest thou; and what's thy
quarrel?
[ven!
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee hea-
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and
Derby,

Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,
To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's
valour,

In lists, on Thomas Mowbray duke of Norfolk,
That he's 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 sove-
reign's hand,

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
highness,
[leave.
And craves to kiss your hand, and take his
K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him in

our arins.

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.

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.-

Nor. [Rising] However heaven, or fortune, cast my lot, [throne, There lives or dies, true to king Richard's A loyal, just, and upright gentleman: Never did captive with a freer heart Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement, More than my dancing soul doth celebrate This feast of battle with mine adversary.Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: Go I to fight; Truth hath a quiet breast. As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,

K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.

Order the trial, marshal, and begin.

[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-Anien.

Mur. Go bear this lance [To an Officer.] to
Thomas duke of Norfolk.

Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster_and Derby, [self, Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himOn 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, Both to defend himself, and to approve Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal; Courageously, and with a free desire, Attending but the signal to begin.

Mur. 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 And both return back to their chairs again:Withdraw with us:-and let the trumpets sound,

their spears,

cree.

While we return these dukes what we de- |
[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 aspect
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 [cradle
To wake our peace, which in our country's
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;]
Which so rous'd up with boisterous untun'd
drums,
[bray,
With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful
And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace,
And make us wade even in our kindred's
blood;-

Therefore, we banish you our territories:-
You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death,
Till twice five summers have enrich'd our
Shall not regreet our fair dominions, [fields,
But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
Boling. Your will be done: This must my
comfort be,-
[me;
That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on
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,
[mouth:
And all unlook'd for from your highness'
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your highness' hand.
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I must forego:
And now my tongue's use is to me no more,
Than an unstringed viol or a harp;
Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up,
Or, being open, put into his hands

That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you have enjail'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd, with my teeth and lips;
1 And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Is made my jailer to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a pupil now;
What is thy sentence then, but speechless
Which robs my tongue from breathing native
breath?

[death,

K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate;+

fter our sentence plaining comes too late. Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's light,

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,
(Our part therein we banish with yourselves,)
To keep the oath that we administer:-
You never shall (so help you truth and heaven!)
Nures + Barred. To move compassion.

Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor never look upon each other's face;
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
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 trai My name be blotted from the book of life, [tor, 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 I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect [eyes 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
He shortens four years of my son's exile: [me,
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 has 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

gestion sour.

You urg'd me as a judge: but I had rather,
You would have bid me argue like a father:-
O, had it been a stranger, not my child,
To smooth his fault I should have been more
A partial slanders sought I to avoid, [mild:
And in the sentence my own life destroy'.
Alas, I look'd, when some of you should say,
I was too strict, to make mine own away;
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue,
Against my will, to do myself this wrong.
K. Rich. Cousin, farewell:-and, uncle, bid

him so;

* Concerted. † Consideration. Had a part or share. Reproach of partiality.

Six years we banish him, and he shall go. [Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD und 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

make

Will but remember me, what a deal of world
I wander from the jewels that I love.
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
To foreign passages; and in the end,
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else,"
But that I was a journeyman to grief?

Gaunt. All places, that the eye of heaven visits,

Are to a wise man ports and happy havens:
Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not, the king did banish thee;
But thou the king: Woe doth the heavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say-1 sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not--The king exíl'd thee: or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou

com'st:

Suppose the singing birds, musicians;
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presencet
strew'd;

The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more
Than a delightful measure, or a dance:
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand,
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
By bare imagination of a feast?

Or wallow naked in December's snow,
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
O, no! the apprehension of the good,
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee
on thy way:

Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu;

• Orict. Presence chamber at court. Growling.

And, for my heart disdained that my tongue
Should so profane the word, that taught me
To counterfeit oppression of such grief, [craft
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,
He should have had a volume of farewells;
But, since it would not, he had none of me.
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis

doubt,

[ment, When time shall call him home from banishWhether our kinsman come to see his friends. Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, Observ'd his courtship to the common people:How he did seem to dive into their hearts, With humble and familiar courtesy ;

What reverence he did throw away on slaves; Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles,

A patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their effects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;
A brace of draymen bid-God speed him well,
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
With--Thanks my countrymen, my loving friends;
As were our England in reversion his,
And he our subjects next degree in hope.
Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go
these thoughts.
[land;-
Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ire-
Expedient manage must be made, my liege;
Ere further leisure yield them further means,
For their advantage, and your highness' loss.
K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this