Lord Ross. Lord Willoughby. Lord Fitzwater
Bishop of Carlisle. Abbot of Westminster.
Lord Marshal; and another Lord.
Sir Pierce of Exton. Sir Stephen Scroop.
Captain of a Band of Welchmen.
Queen to King Richard.
Duchess of Gloster.
Duchess of York.
Lady attending on the Queen.
Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.
SCENE-Dispersedly in England and Wales.
Enter King Richard, attended; John of Gaunt, &c.
K. Rich. OLD John of Gaunt, time-honour'd
Lancaster,
Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
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, bast thou sounded
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;
Or worthily, as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery in him?
Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that
argument,
On some apparent danger seen in him,
Aim'd at your highness; no inveterate malice.
K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face
to 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.
Bol. May 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! [ters us,
K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flat-
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?
Bol. 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.
[zeal:
Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my
'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: [ine,
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs
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 villain :
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,
Where ever Englishman dare set his foot.
Mean time, let this defend my loyalty,-
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
Bol. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my
Disclaiming here the kindred of a king;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to exccpt;
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 worse 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 a traitor, or unjustly fight!
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,
K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mow-To prove myself a loyal gentleman
bray's charge?
It must be great, that can inherit us
So much as of a thought of ill in him. [true;—
Bol. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it
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,―
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,
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and
Further I say, and further will maintain [spring.
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, [blood.
Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of
Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,
Even from the tongueless caverns of the carth,
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. [soars!—
K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution
Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
Nor. 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.
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 rescrv'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
I slew him not; but, to my own disgrace,
Neglected my sworn duty in that case.—
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
The honourable father to my foe,
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom:
In haste whereof, most heartily pray
Your highness to assign our trial day.
K. Rich. Wrath-kindl'd gentlemen, be rul'd by
Let's purge this choler without letting blood.-
This we prescribe, though no physician;
Deep malice makes too deep incision:
Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed;
Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed.—
Good uncle, let this end where it begun;
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son.
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my 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 again. [no boot.
K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is
Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:
The one my duty owes; but my fair name
(Despite of death, that lives upon my grave),
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here;
Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear;
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood,
Which breath'd this poison.
K. Rich. Rage must be withstood:
Give me his gage:-Lions make leopards tame.
Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: take but
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. [begin.
K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you
Bol. 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 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.
[cxit Gaunt.
K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to com
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 design the victor's chivalry..
Marshal, command our officer at arms
Be ready to direct these home alarins.
SCENE II. THE SAME, AT THE DUKE OF LANCASTER'S.
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 Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? [spur? 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 suminer leaves all faded,
By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that
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Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou see'st 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. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven'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 myGaunt. 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! [wife,
Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's
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-0, what?—
With all good speed at Plashy visit me.
Alack, and what shall good old York there see,
But empty lodgings, and unfurnish'd walls,
Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?
And what cheer there for welcome but my groans?
Therefore commend me; let him not come there,
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where :
Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
[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
Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd,
For nothing but his Majesty's approach. 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
Trumpet. Enter Bolingbroke, preceded by a Herald. | There lives, or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
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? [rel?
Against whom comest thou; and what's thy quar-
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
Bol. 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!
Mur. 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.
Bol. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's And bow my knee before his majesty: [hand, 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. [ness, 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 Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, [arms. 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. Bol. 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
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 of Gaunt,
Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son. [prosperous!
Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee
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.
Bol. Mine innocency, and saint George to
thrive.
[he takes his seat.
Nor. [rising.] However heaven, or fortune cast
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:
As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,
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 the Lords return to their seuts. Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance: and God defend the right! Bol. [rising.] Strong as a tower in hope, I cry— Amen. [Thomas duke of Norfolk. Mar. Go bear this lance [to an Officer] to 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,
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.
Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, com-
batants.
[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,
While we return these dukes what we decree.
[flourish.
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'
And for we think the eagle-winged pride [swords;
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
With rival-hating envy, set you on
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 death,
Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
But tread the stranger paths of banishment. [be;
Bol. Your will be done. This must my comfort
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, 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.
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 unstring'd viol, or a harp;
Or, like a cunuing 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,
Too 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.
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!)
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor never look upon each other's face;
Nor never write, regrect, 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.
Bol. I swear.
Nor. And I, to keep all this.
Bol. 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 a 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.—
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Bol. 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. [give.
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst 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 diges
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
Six years we banish him, and he shall go.
[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. [words, Guunt. O, to what purpose dost thou board thy That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?
Bol. 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. Bui. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly [ten.
Bol. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour Gaunt. Call it a travel, that thou tak'st for pleasure.
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