GAUNT. As near as I could sift him on that argu- That ever was survey'd by English eye,

ment,

On some apparent danger seen in him,

Aim'd at your highness, -no inveterate malice.

That all the treasons, for these eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.

K. RICH. Then call them to our presence; face to Further I say,—and further will maintain
face,

And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
The accuser, and the accused, freely speak:-
[Exeunt some Attendants.
High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage, deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and
NORFOLK.

BOLING. Many years of happy days befal
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!
NOR. Each day still better other's happiness;
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown!

K. RICH. We thank you both: yet one but flatters

us,

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,
Come I appellant to this princely presence.
Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,
And mark my greeting well; for what I speak
My body shall make good upon this earth,
Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant;
Too good to be so, and too bad to live;
Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;
And wish (so please my sovereign), ere I move,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may

prove.

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,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain:
The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this.
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say:
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it had return'd
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,

I do defy him, and I spit at him,

Call him a slanderous coward, and a villian:
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds,
And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable
Wherever Englishman durst set his foot.
Meantime, let this defend my loyalty,-
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.

Upon his bad life, to make all this good,→
That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death;
Suggest his soon-believing adversaries;
And, consequently, like a traitor coward,

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 up your gage; do you
begin.

| 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.

NOR. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest!
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais
Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers:
The other part reserv'd I by consent;
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt,
Upon remainder of a dear account,

Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:
Now swallow down that lie.-For Gloster's death,-
I slew him not; but, to mine own disgrace,
Neglected my sworn duty in that case.
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
The honourable father to my foe,
Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul:
But, ere I last receiv'd the sacrament,
I did confess it; and exactly begg'd
Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it.
This is my fault: as for the rest appeal'd,
It issues from the rancour of a villain,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor:
Which in myself I boldly will defend;
And interchangeably hurl down my gage
Upon this overweening traitor's foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman,

Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom:
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
Your highness to assign our trial day.

K. RICH. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul❜d by

me;

Let's purge this choler without letting blood:
This we prescribe, though no physician;
Deep malice makes to deep incision:
Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed;
Our doctors say, this is no month to bleed.

BOLING. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my Good uncle, let this end where it begun;

gage,

Disclaiming here the kindred of the king;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,

Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except:
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop;
By that, and all the rites of knighthood else,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have spoke, or thou canst worst devise.

NOR. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear,
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
I'll answer thee in any fair degree,

Or chivalrous design of knightly trial:

And, when I mount, alive may I not light,

If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!

K. RICH. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's 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,
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,-

my

We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you, your son.
GAUNT. To be a make-peace shall become
age:-
Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage.
K. RICH. And, Norfolk, throw down his.
GAUNT.
When, Harry? when?
Obedience bids, I should not bid agen.

K. RICH. Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no

boot.

Rage must be withstood:
Give me his gage:-lions make leopards tame.
NOR. Yea, but not change his 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.

SCENE II.-London. A Room in the Duke of
Lancaster's Palace.

Enter GAUNT and DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER.
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 phials of his sacred blood, Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, Some of those branches by the destinies cut: But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster,— One phial full of Edward's sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most royal root, Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;

Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,

By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb,
That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee.
Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and
breath'st,

Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother 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. God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute,
His deputy anointed, in His sight,
Hath caus'd his death: the which, if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
An angry arm against His minister.

DUCH. Where then, alas! may I complain myself: GAUNT. To God, 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 wie
With her companion, Grief, must end her life.
GAUNT. Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry:

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:
As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,

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 thine oath,
As so defend thee heaven, and thy valour!

NOR. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Nor-
folk;

Who hither come engaged by my oath,
(Which God defend a knight should violate!)
Both to defend my loyalty and truth

To God, my king, and his 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!

[He takes his seat.

Trumpet sounds. Enter BOLINGBROKE, in armour, preceded by 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 com'st thou hither,

Before King Richard, in his royal lists ?
Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
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,

Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists, Appointed to direct these fair designs. Except the marshal, and such officers

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.

[The KING and 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 cryAmen.

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

I HER. Harry of Hereford,
Lancaster, and Derby,

Stands here for God, his sove

reign, and himself,

On pain to be found false and

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,

BOLING. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's Both to defend himself, and to approve

hand.

And bow my knee before his majesty:
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
For Mowbray and myself are like two men
Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
And loving farewell, of our several friends.
MAR. The appellant in all duty greets your high-

ness,

And 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.

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.

tants.

MAR. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, comba[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.-
Withdraw with us; and let the trumpets sound,
While we return these dukes what we decree.-

[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

BOLING. O, let no noble eye profane a tear
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear;
As confident as is the falcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.-
My loving lord, [to Lord Marshal] I take my leave And for we think the eagle-winged pride

Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' swords;

Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
With rival-hating envy, set on you

To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle
Draws the sweet infant-breath of gentle sleep;
Which so rous'd up with boisterous untun'd drums,
With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray,
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 life,
Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
BOLING. Your will be done. This must my com-
fort be,

GAUNT. God in thy good cause make thee pros- That sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me;

perous!

Be swift like lightning in the execution;
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
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 God, or fortune, cast my
lot,

There lives, or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
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,

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,
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' hands.
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 engaol'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;
And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.

I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,

oo far in years to be a pupil now; What is thy sentence, then, but speechless death, Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? K. RICH. It boots thee not to be compassionate; After our sentence, plaining comes too late.

NOR. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.

[Retiring.

By this time, had the king permitted us,
One of our souls had wandered 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 burthen 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, God, 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

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 lour?
GAUNT. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion

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 mild:

A partial slander sought I to avoid,

And in the sentence my own life destroy'd.

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

BOLING. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.

GAUNT. The sullen passage of thy weary steps

Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set

The precious jewel of thy home-return.

BOLING. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I 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-I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not, the king exil'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 presenc

strew'd;

thee:

Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands;
Swear by the duty that you owe to God,
(Our part therein we banish with yourselves,)
To keep the oath that we administer :-
You never shall (so help you truth and God!)
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor never look upon each other's face;
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
This low'ring 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.

NOK. And I, to keep all this.

BOLING. Norfolk,-
-so far as to mine enemy;-

spent,

Return 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.

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 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

thy way:

Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.

SCENE IV.-A Room in the King's Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN; AuMERLE meeting them.

K. RICH. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way? AUM. I brought high Her ford, if you call him so, But to the next highway, and there I left him.

K. RICH. And, say, what store of parting tears were shed?

AUM. 'Faith, none for me, except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces,

Awak'd the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance,
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.

K. RICH. What said our cousin when you parted with him?

AUM. Farewell:

And for my heart disdained 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,

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, When time shall call him home from banishment, Whether 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, And patient underbearing of his fortune. As 'twere to banish their affects 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.

Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland;
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 war.
And for our coffers, with too great a court,

How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

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,

my