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Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; spear; [blood Is hacked down, and his summer leaves all fadThe which no balm can cure, but his heart By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. {ed, Which breathed this poison. Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb,

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.
[foul sin!
Boling. O, God defend my son from such
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

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. [command:
K. Rich. We were not born to sne, but to
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
At Coventry, upon St. 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 officers at arnis
Be ready to direct these home-alarms.[Exeunt.
SCENE 11. The same. A Room in the
Duke of Lancaster's Palace.

Enter GAUNT, and Duchess of Gloster.
Gaunt. Alas! the part I bad in Gloster's

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 quarrrel 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
Some of those seven are dried by nature's
Some of those branches by the destinies cut:
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Glos-
One phial full of Edward's sacred blood, [ter,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root-


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That metal, that self-mould, that fashioned
Made him a man; and though thou livest and
Yet art thon slain in him: thou dost consent j
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. Heaven's is the quarrel; for hea-

ven's substitute,

His deputy anointed in his sight,
Hath caused 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
[and defence.
Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion
Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old
Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold [Gaunt,
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight:
O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's


That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!
Or, if inisfortune 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 caitit! recreant to my cousin Hereford!
Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime 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. Yetone word more ;-Griefbonndeth

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, nutrodden stones?
And what cheer there for welcome, but my
Therefore commend me; let him not come
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where:
Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.

Relationship. 6 Assent.
** Her house in Essex.

A base villain.

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Enter the Lord Marshal, and AUMERLE. Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? [in. Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, [trumpet. Stays but the summous of the appellant's Aum. Why then, the champions are prepared, and stay

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 chamThe cause of his arrival here in arms: [pion 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 thou art, [arms; And why thon com'st, thus knightly clad in Against what man thou com'st, and what thy 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;

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

To God, my king, and my succeeding issne,
Against the duke of Hereford that appeals me;
And, by the grace of God, and this nine 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 BOLING BROKE,
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? [quarrel?
Against whom comest thou; and what's thy!
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and
Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, [Derby,
To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's
In lists, on Thomas Mowbray duke of Nor-
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 Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists; [bold, + Brighten up.


Except the marshal, and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair designs.
Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my so-
vereign's hand,
And bow my knee before his majesty:
For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men
That vow a long ara weary pilgrimage;
Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
And loving farewell, of our several friends.
Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your
And craves to kiss your hand, and take his
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 thon 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.My loving lord,[70 Lord Marshal.] 1 take my leave of you;

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 two-fold 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 furbisht new the name of John of Gaunt,
Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son.

Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosperous!

Be swift like lightning in the execution;
And let thy blows, doubly redonbled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the casquet
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy: [live.
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and
Boling, Mine innocency, and Saint George
to thrive!
[He takes his seat.
Nor. Rising.] However heaven, or fortune,
cast my lot,
There lives or dies, trae to king Richard's
A loyal, just, and upright gentleman: [throne,
Never did captive with a freer heart
Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace
His golden uucontrol'd entranchisement,
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 capy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eyc.--
Order the trial, marshal, and begin.
[The King and the Lords return to their


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Mar. Go bear this lance [To an Officer.] to Thomas duke of Norfolk. [Derby, 1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himOr pain to be found false and recreant, [self, 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, combatants, [A Charge sounded. Stay, The king hath thrown his warder* down. K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and

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[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 roused up with boisterous untuned druns,

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, consin 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. 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-siow 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, *Truncheon. + Nursed.


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 unstring'd viol or a harp; Or like a cunning instrument cased 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;
Aud dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Is made my goaier to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a pupil now;
Whatisthy sentence then, but speechless death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing native
[ate ;

K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionAfter our sentence plaining comes too late. Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's


To dwellin 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!)
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
Nor never look upon each other's face;
Nor never write, regrect, 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 inine 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 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

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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

to live.

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 bast many years
[canst give:
Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sor-
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a
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



Whereto thy tongne a party verdict gave;
Why atour justice seem'st thou then to lower?
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in
digestion sour.

You urged 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 slander sought I to avoid, [mild:
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 my 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;

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 1; for I will

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 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

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Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that

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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
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
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say-I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not-the king exiled 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 thon go'st, not whence thott
Suppose the singing birds, musicians; [comest;
The grass whereon thou tread'st, the pre-
sence strew'd;
The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no
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 fanceth 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;

My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
Where-e'er I wander, boast of this I can,
Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman.

SCENE IV. The same. A Room in the
King's Castle.

AUMERLE following.

K. Rich. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerio,

Had a part or share.
Presence chamber at court.


Reproach of partiality.
¶ Crowling.

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

How far brought you high Hereford on his | With-Thanks my countrymen, my loving way? [him so, Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call But to the next highway, and there I left him. K. Rich. And say, what store of parting tears were shed? [east wind, Aum. Faith, none by me: except the northWhich then blew bitterly against our faces, Awaked the sleeping rheum; aud so, by chance,

Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.
K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you
Aum. Farewell:
[parted with him?
And, for my heart disdained that my tongue
Should so profane the word, that taught me

To counterfeit oppression of such grief,
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's
[en'd hours,
Marry, would the word farewell have length-
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. Ile is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis
When time shall call him home from banish-
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
Qurself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,
Observed 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

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.

these thoughts.

[land;Now for the rebels, which stand out in IreExpedient 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


And, fort our coffers-with too great a court, And liberal largess,-are grown somewhat light,

We are enforced 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
Whereto, when they shall know what men are
They shall subscribe them for large sums of

And send them after to supply our wants;
For we will make for Ireland presently.
Enter BUSHY.
Bushy, what news?

[my lord;
Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick,
Suddenly taken; and hath rent post-haste,
To entreat your majesty to visit hin.
K. Rich. Where lies he?
Bushy. At Ely-house.

[sician's mind, K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his phy. To help him to his grave immediately! The lining of his coffers shall make coats To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: Pray Cod, we may make haste, and come too [Exeunt.


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SCENE I. London. A Room in Ely-house. | Writ in remembrance, more than things long

GAUNT on a Couch; the Duke of YORK,

and Others standing by him.

Gaunt. Will the king come? that I may breathe my last

In wholesome counsel to his unstaied youth. York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;

For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.


fhear, Though Richard my life's counsel would not My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. York. No; it is stopp'd with other ffatter

ing sounds,

As, praises of his state: then, there are found
Lascivious metres; to whose venom sound
The open ear of youth doth always listen:
Report of fashions in proud Italy;

Gaunt. O, but they say, the tongues of Whose manners still our tardy apish nation

dying men

Enforce attention, like deep harmony: Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain : [words in pain. For they breathe truth, that breathe their He, that no more must say, is listen'd more Than they whom youth and ease have taught to gloset;

More are men's ends mark'd, than their lives before:

The setting sun, and music at the close, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; • Expeditious.

Limps after, in base imitation, Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, (So it be new, there's no respect how vile), That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears? Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, Where will doth mutiny with wit's regard. Direct not him, whose way himself will choose; [thou lose.

'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wit Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspired;

And thus, expiring, do foretel of him :

† Because.

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