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Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our Var. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet. So be thy fortune in this royal fight! Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd and Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, stay
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead. For nothing but his majesty's approach.
Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear; Flourish of trumpets. Enter King RICHARD, who
As confident, as is the falcon's flight takes his seat on his throne ; Gaunt, and several | Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. Voblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is My loving lord, [to Lord Marshal.] I take my leave sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter Norfolk, in armour, preceded by a Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle: Herald.
Not sick, although I have to do with deatlı ; K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath. The cause of his arrival here in arms :
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet Ask him his name; and orderly proceed
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet : To swear him in the justice of his cause.
O thou, the earthly author of my blood, lsar. In God's name, and the king's, say who
[ To GAUNT. thou art,
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, And why thou com’st, thus knightly clad in arms:
Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up Against what man thou com’st, and what thy quarrel : To reach at victory above my head, Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath ; Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers ; And so defend the heaven, and thy valour ! And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, Norfolk ;
And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt, Who hither come engaged by my oath,
Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son. (Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate !) Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
Of thy advérse pernicious cnemy :
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven !
Boling. Mine innocency, and Saint George to [He takes his seat.
[He takes his seul.
Nor. (Rising.] However fiaven, or fortune, cast Trumpet sounds. Enter BolingBROKE, in armour : preceded by a Herald.
There lives, or dies, true to king Richard's throne, K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, A loyal, just, and upright gentleman : Both who he is, and why he cometh hither
Never did captive with a freer heart Thus plated in habiliments of war ;
Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace And formally according to our law
His golden uncontroll’d enfranchisement, Depose him in the justice of his cause.
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate Mar. What is thy name ? and wherefore com’st This feast of battle with mine adversary. thou hither,
Most mighty liege, – and my companion peers, Before King Richard, in his royal lists ?
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years : Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel? | As gentle and as jocund, as to jest, Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven ! Go I to fight; Truth hath a quiet breast.
Boling. Ilarry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
[The King and the Lords return to their seats That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous,
Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me; Receive thy lance; and God defend the right ! And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven !
Boling. [Rising.] Strong as a tower in hope, I Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold,
cry-amen. Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists;
Mar. Go bear this lance [to an Officer.) to Except the marshal, and such officers
Thomas, duke of Norfolk. Appointed to direct these fair designs.
1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, hand,
On pain to be found false and recreant, And bow my knee before his majesty :
To prove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men A traitor to his God, lis king, and him, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
And dares him to set forward to the fight. Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke of And loving farewell, of our several friends.
Both to defend himself, and to approve
To Gal, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal ;
K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with Courageously, and with a free desire,
thee. Attending but the signal to begin.
Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, com- Swear by the duty that you owe to heaven, batants.
[A charge sounded. (Our part therein we banish with yourselves,) Stay, the king bath thrown his warder down. To keep the oath that we administer: K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their You never shall (so help you truth and heaven') spears,
Embrace each other's love in banishment; And both return back to their chairs again :
Nor never look upon each other's face; Withdraw with us :—and let the trumpets sound, Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile While we return these dukes what we decree. This lowering tempest of your home-bred haie ;
[ A long flourish. Nor never by advised purpose meet, Draw near
[To the Combatants. To plot, contrive, or complot any ill, And list, what with our council we have done. 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd Boling. I swear. With that dear blood which it hath fostered ;
Ner. And I, to keep all this. And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy; Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' By this time, had the king permitted us, swords;
One of our souls had wander'd in the air, [And for we think the eagle-winged pride
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
As now our flesh is banish'd from this land : With rival-hating envy, set you on
Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm ; To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle Since thou hast far to go, bear not along Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep ;] The clogging burden of a guilty soul. Which so rous'd up with boisterous untun'd drums, Nor. No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor, With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, My name be blotted from the book of life, And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence ! Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace, But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know : And make us wade even in our kindred's blood;- And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue. — Therefore, we banish you our territories :
Farewell, my liege : - Now no way can I stray , You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death,
Save back to England, all the world's my way. Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields,
(Erit. Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
I see thy grieved heart; thy sad aspect Boling. Your will be done: This must my comfort Hath from the number of his banish'd years be,
Pluck”d four away ;
Six frozen winters spent, that warms you here, shall shine on me; Return (to Boling.] with welcome home from baAnd those his golden beams, to you here lent,
nishment. Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.
Boling. How long a time lies in one little word! K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, Which I with some unwillingness pronounce : End in a word; Such is the breath of kings. The fly-slow hours shall not determinate
Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of me, The dateless limit of thy dear exile ;
He shortens four years of my son's exíle : The hopeless word of — never to return
But little vantage shall I reap thereby ; Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
For, ere the six years, that he hath to spend, Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, Can change their moons, and bring their times about, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth : My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light, A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
Shall be extinct with age, and endless night; As to be cast forth in the common air,
My inch of taper will be burnt and done, Have I deserved at your highness' hand.
And blindfold death not let me see my son. The language I have learn'd these forty years,
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. My native English, now I must forego:
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst And now my tongue's use is to me no more,
give : Than an unstringed viol, or a harp ;
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Or, being open, put into his hands
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage; Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue, Thy word is current with him for
death : Doubly portcullis'd, with my teeth, and lips; But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath. And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave; I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower ? Too far in years to be a pupil now;
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digestion What is thy sentence then, but speechless death, Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? You urg'd me as a judge; but I had rather,
K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate; You would have bid me argue like a father : After our sentence plaining comes too late.
O, had it been a stranger, not my child, Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To smooth his fault I should have been more mild : To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. A partial slander sought I to avoid,
[ Retiring. | And in the sentence my own life destroy’d,
Alas, I look’d, when some of you should say,
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on I was too strict, to make mine own away;
thy way : But you gave leave to mine unwilling tongue, Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay. Against my will, to do myself this wrong.
Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet K. Rich. Cousin, farewell: — and, uncle, bid him
soil, adieu ; SO;
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! Six years we banish him, and he shall
Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, [Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD and Train. Though banish’d, yet a trueborn Englishman. Aum. Cousin, farewell : what presence must not
[Exeunt. know, From where you do remain, let paper show.
SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the King'. Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride
Castle. As far as land will let me, by your side.
Enter King Richard, Bagot, and GREEN; Gaunt. 0, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy
AUMERLE following: words, That thou return’st no greeting to thy friends ?
K. Rich. We did observe. Cousin Aumerle, Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you,
How far brought you high Hereford on his way? When the tongue's office should be prodigal
Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
SO, Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. But to the next highway, and there I left him. Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears Gaunt. What is six winters ? they are quickly
were shed ? gone.
Aum. 'Faith, not by me, except the north Boling. To men in joy ; but grief makes one
wind, hour ten.
Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak’st for plea- Awak’d the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance,
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. Boling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so,
K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.
with him ? Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps
Aum. Farewell : Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set
And, for my heart disdained that my tongue The precious jewel of thy home-return.
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make To counterfeit oppression of such grief, Will but remember me, what a deal of world
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. I wander from the jewels that I love.
Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen'd Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
hours, To foreign passages; and in the end,
And added years to his short banishment, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else
He should have had a volume of farewells; But that I was a journeyman to grief ?
But, since it would not, he had none of me. Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits,
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis Are to a wise man ports and happy havens :
doubt, Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
When time shall call him home from banishment, There is no virtue like necessity.
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. Think not, the king did banish thee;
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, But thou the king : Woe doth the heavier sit,
Observ'd his courtship to the common people: Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy ;
What reverence he did throw away on slaves ; Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles, And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
And patient underbearing of his fortune, Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
As 'twere, to banish their affects with him. To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench ; com'st.
A brace of draymen bid God speed him well, Suppose the singing birds, musicians ;
And had the tribute of his supple knee, The grass whereon thou tread'st, the presence With-Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends ;strew'd;
As were our England in reversion his, The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more And he our subjects' next degree in hope. Than a delightful measure, or a dance:
Green. Well, he's gone; and with him go these For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
thoughts. The man that mocks at it, and sets it light.
Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland
; Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand, Expedient manage must be made, my liege ; By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
Ere further leisure yield them further means, Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
For their advantage, and your highness' loss. By bare imagination of a feast?
K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. Or wallow naked in December snow,
And, for our coffers — with too great a court, By thinking on fantastick summer's heat ?
And liberal largess, - are grown somewhat light, 0, no! the apprehension of the good,
We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm ; Gives but the greater feeling to the worse :
The revenue whereof shall furnish us Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more,
For our affairs in hand : If that come short, Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich, K. Rich. Where lies he ?
X. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his physician's For we will make for Ireland presently.
To help him to his grave immediately!
The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars. – Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my | Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him :
Pray God, we may make haste, and come too late ! Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste,
(Ereunt. To entreat your majesty to visit him.
SCENE I. - London. A Room in Ely House. This other Eden, demi-paradise ;
This fortress, built by nature for herself, Gaunt on a couch ; the Duke of York, and others
Against infection, and the hand of war: standing by him.
This happy breed of men, this little world ; Gaunl. Will the king come ? that I may
breathe This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England, For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.
This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of dying men Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their birth, Enforce attention, like deep harmony;
Renowned for their deeds as far from home, Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in (For Christian service, and true chivalry,)
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son : pain.
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land,
Like to a tenement, or pelting farm :
The setting sun, and musick at the close, Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
How happy then were my ensuing death!
Enter King RICHARD and QUEEN; AUMERLE, The open ear of youth doth always listen :
Bushy, GREEN, Bagot, Ross, and WILLOUGHBY Report of fashions in proud Italy;
York. The king is come : deal mildly with his Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
youth; Limps after in base imitation.
For young hot colts, being rag'd, do rage te Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, (So it be new, there's no respect how vile,)
Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster ? That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears ?
K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is't with Then all too late comes counsel to be heard,
aged Gaunt? Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard.
Gaunt. 0, how that name befits my composition ! Direct not hiin, whose way himself will choose ; Old Gaunt, indeed ; and gaunt in being old : 'Tis breath thou lackest, and that breath wilt thou Within me grief hath kept a tedious fast; lose.
And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt? Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; For sleeping England long time have I watch'd ; And thus, expiring, do foretell of him :
Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt : His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon, For violent fires soon burn out themselves :
Is my strict fast, I mean -- my children's looks; Small showers last long, but sudden storms are And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gaunt; short;
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave, He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes ; Whose hollow womb inherits nought bui bones. With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder : K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with their Light vanity, insatiate cormorant,
names? Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself : This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, Since thou dost seek to kill my name in mnc, This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,
I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those
Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. that live? Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to die.
your majesty. K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st — thou flat- K. Rich. What says he now ?
Nay, nothing ; all is said : Gaunt. Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker His tongue is now a stringless instrument; be.
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt ill.
so! Gaunt. Now, He that made me, knows I see Though death be poor it ends a mortal woe.
K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so doth Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. Thy death-bed is no lesser than thy land,
His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be : Wherein thou liest in reputation sick :
So much for that. Now for our Irish wars • And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
We must supplant those rough rug-headed kerns; Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure
Which live like venom, where no venom else, Of those physicians that first wounded thee : But only they, hath privilege to live. A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
And for these great affairs do ask some charge, Whose compass is no bigger than thy head ;
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us And yet, incaged in so sinall a verge,
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables, The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd. O, had thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
York. How long shall I be patient ? Ah, how Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,
long From forth thy reach he would have laid thy shame; Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? Deposing thee before thou wert possessid,
Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment, Which art possess'd now to depose thyself.
Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private wrongs, Why, cuusin, wert thou regent of the world, Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke It were a shame, to let this land by lease :
About his marriage, nor my own disgrace, But, for thy world, enjoying but this land,
Have ever made me sour my patient cheek, Is it not more than shame, to shame it so ?
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face. Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
I am the last of noble Edward's sons, Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first; And thou
In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce,
Than was that young and princely gentleman : Dar'st with thy frozen admonition
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he, Make pale our cheek ; chasing the royal blood, Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours ; With fury, from his native residence.
But, when he frown'd, it was against the French, Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
And not against his friends : his noble hand Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son, Did win what he did spend, and spent not that This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head, Which his triumphant father's hand had won : Should run thy head from thy unreverend shoulders. His bands were guilty of no kindred's blood, Gaunt. 0, spare me not, my brother Edward's But bloody with the enemies of his kin. son,
0, Richard ! York is too far gone with grief, For that I was his father Edward's son ;
Or else he never would compare between. That blood already, like the pelican,
K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter? Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd:
O, my liege, My brother Gloster, plain well meaning soul, Pardon me, if you please ; if not, I pleas'd (Whom fair befal in heaven ʼmongst happy souls !) Not to be pardon'd, am content withal. May be a precedent and witness good,
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands, That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood : The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ? Join with the present sickness that I have;
Is not Gaunt dead ? and doth not Hereford live? And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true ? To crop at once a too-long wither'd flower.
Did not the one deserve to have an heir ? Live in thy shame, but die not shame with thee!- Is not his heir a well-deserving son ? These words hereafter thy tormentors be!
Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time Convey me to my bed, then to my grave :
His charters, and his customary rights ; Love they to live, that love and honour have. Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day ;
[Erit, borne out by his Attendants. Be not thyself, for how art thou a king, K. Rich. And let them die, that age and sullens But by fair sequence and succession ? have ;
Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true!) For both hast thou, and both become the grave. If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his words Call in the letters patents that he hath
By his attornies-general to sue
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head, X. Rich. Right; you say true : as Hereford's You lose a thousand well-disposed hearts, love, so his :
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is.
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.