Or fev'n fair branches, fpringing from one root: Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb, What fhall I fay? to fafeguard thine own life, Gaunt. God's is the Quarrel; for God's Subftitute, His Deputy anointed in his fight, Hath caus'd his death; the which if wrongfully, An angry arm against his Minister. Dutch. Where then, alas, may I complain my felf? Gaunt. To heav'n, the widow's Champion and De fence. Dutch. Why then, I will: farewel, old Gaunt, farewel. Thou go'ft to Coventry, there to behold Our Coufin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. That That they may break his foaming Courfer's back, A caitiff recreant to my coufin Hereford! Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: For Sorrow ends not, when it feemeth done. oh, what? And what hear there for welcome, but my groans? To feek out forrow that dwells every where ; All defolate, will I from hence, and die; The last Leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt. SCENE, the Lifts, at Coventry. Enter the Lord Marshal, and the Duke of Aumerle. Mar. M Y lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to en ter in. Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, fprightfully and bold, Stays but the Summons of th' Appellant's trumpet. Aum. Why, then the Champions are prepar'd, and. stay For nothing but his Majefty's approach. [Flourish. The The trumpets found, and the King enters with his Nobles: when they are fet, Enter the Duke of Norfolk in arms, Defendant. K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder Champion To fwear him in the justice of his Caufe. Mar. In God's name and the King's, fay who thou art ? [To Mowb. And why thou com'ft, thus knightly clad in arms? Against what man thou com'ft, and what thy quarrel ? Speak truly on thy Knighthood, and thine Oath, And fo defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Mob. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither come engaged by my oath, (Which, heav'n defend, a Knight fhould violate!) To God, my King, and my fucceeding Iffue, The trumpets found. Enter Bolingbroke, Appellant, in armour. 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'ft thou hither, Before King Richard, in his royal Lists? [To Boling. Against whom comeft thou? and what's thy Quarrel? Speak like a true Knight, fo defend thee heav'n! Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby Am I, who ready here do ftand in arms, In In Lifts, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk, To God of heav'n, King Richard, and to me; Mar. On pain of death, no perfon be fo bold, Boling. Lord Marthal, let me kifs my Sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his Majefty: For Mowbray and my felf are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; Then let us take a ceremonious Leave, And loving Farewel, of our feveral friends. Mar. Th' 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 Caufe is right, So be thy Fortune in this royal fight! Farewel, my Blood; which if to day thou fhed, The daintieft laft, to make the end moft fweet: Oh thou! the earthly author of my blood, [To Gaunt. Whofe 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; Ev'n in the lufty 'haviour of his fon. Gaunt. Heav'n in thy good Caufe make thee profpe rous! Be fwift like Lightning in the execution, Rouze up thy youthful blood, be brave and live. thrive! Mowb. However heav'n or fortune caft my lot, Caft off his chains of bondage, and embrace Go I to fight: Truth hath a quiet breast. K. Rich. Farewel, my lord; fecurely I efpy Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, And dares him to fet forward to the fight. 2. Her. Here ftandeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found falfe and recreant, To |