Thus plated in habiliments of war;

And formally according to our law
Depose him in the juftice of his cause.

Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'ft thou

hither,

Before king Richard, in his royal lifts?

[To Boling. Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel ? Speak like a true knight, fo defend thee heaven!

Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Am I; who ready here do ftand in arms,

To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valour,
In lifts, 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 perfon be so bold,
Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lifts;
Except the marshal, and fuch officers

Appointed to direct these fair designs.

Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my fovereign'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 feveral friends.

Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness,

[To K. Rich.

And craves to kifs your hand, and take his leave,

K. Rich. We will defcend and fold him in our arms. Coufin 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. Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear

For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear:
As confident, as is the faulcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.-
My loving lord, I take my leave of you ;—
Of you, my noble coufin, lord Aumerle
Not fick, although I have to do with death;
But lufty, young, and chearly drawing breath.
Lo, as at English feafts, fo I regreet

The daintiest laft, to make the end moft fweet:
Oh thou, the earthly author of my blood,-

[To Gaunt.

Whose youthful fpirit, in me regenerate,
Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,-
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers;
And with thy bleffings fteel my lance's point,
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat,

i

And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt,
Even in the lufty 'haviour of his fon.

Gaunt. Heaven in thy good caufe make thee profperous! Be fwift like lightning in the execution;

And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,

Fall like amazing thunder on the casque

Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:

Rouze up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
Boling. Mine innocency, and faint George' to thrive !
Mowb. However heaven, or fortune, caft my lot,
There lives, or dies, true to king Richard's throne,
A loyal, juft, and upright gentleman :

Never did captive with a freer heart

Caft off his chains of bondage, and embrace

My loving lord, &c.]-To the Lord Marthal, T. Holland, Duke of Surrey. h regreet]-falute.

1

1 waxen coat,]-as eafily to be penetrated by me, as if compofed of wax ;-flexible. the cafque]-helmet.

to thrive !]-1 invoke their aid,

His

His golden uncontroul'd enfrahchisement,
More than my dancing foul doth celebrate
This feast of battle with mine adversary.-
Moft 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 à quiet breast.
K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: fecurely I espy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
Order the trial, marshal, and begin.

Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Receive thy lance; and heaven defend the right!

Boling. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.
Mar. Go bear this lance to Thomas duke of Norfolk
1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Stands here for God, his fovereign, 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 fet forward to the fight.

2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke of Nor,

folk,

On pain to be found false and recreant,

Both to defend himself, and to approve
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
To God, his fovereign, and to him, disloyal;
Courageously, and with a free defire,

Attending but the fignal to begin.

[A charge founded.

Mar. Sound, trumpets; and fet forward, combatants. Stay, the king has thrown his warder down.

K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets, and their spears, And both return back to their chairs again

warder]-truncheon.

Withdraw with us ;-and let the trumpets found,
While we return thefe dukes what we decree.-

Draw near,

[A long flourish; after which, the king Speaks to the combatants.

And lift, what with our council we have done,

For that our kingdom's earth fhould not be foil'd
With that dear blood which it hath foftered;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect

Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' fwords; [And for we think, the eagle-winged pride

Of sky-afpiring and ambitious thoughts,"

With rival-hating envy, fet you on

'To wake our peace, which in our own country's cradle
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle fleep ;]
Which fo rouz'd up with boisterous untun'd drums,
And harfh-refounding 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, coufin Hereford, upon pain of death,
'Till twice five fummers have enrich'd our fields,

9

Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

But tread the ftranger paths of banishment.

Boling. Your will be done: This must my comfort be,That fun, that warms you here, fhall fhine 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 fome unwillingness pronounce : The fly-flow hours fhall not determinate

To wake our peace,]-by thefe tumultuous jars. regreet]-revifit.

The

The dateless limit of thy dear exile ;

The hopeless word of-never to return,
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

Mowb. A heavy fentence, my moft fovereign liege, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth : 'A dearer merit, not fo deep a maim

As to be caft forth in the common air,
Have I deferved at your highness' hand.
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I muft forego:
And now my tongue's use is to me no more,
Than an unftringed viol, or a harp;
Or like a cunning inftrument cas'd up,
Or, being open, put into his hands

That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
Within my mouth you have 'engoal'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 compaffionate;

W

After our sentence, plaining comes too late.

Mowb. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in folemn fhades of endless night.

K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee, Lay on our royal fword your banish'd hands;

Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven,

T

dear]-fad, dreadful, fatal.

• A dearer mede, and not, &c.-A better reward.

tengoal'd]-imprisoned.

W

"portcullis'd,]-barr'd.

" compofionate,]-plaintive, to deplore thy fate.

(Our