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 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,

To prove, by heav'n'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 heav'n, King Richard, and to me;
And, as I truly fight, defend me, heav'n!

Mar. On pain of death, no perfon be fo bold,
Or daring-hardy, as to touch the Lifts,
Except the Marfhal, and fuch officers
Appointed to direct these fair defigns.

Boling. Lord Marshal, let me kifs my Sovereign's
hand,

And bow my knee before his Majefty:
For Mowbray and myself 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 High

nefs,

[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, 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 fpear. 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

Not fick, although I have to do with Death;
But lufty, young, and chearly drawing Breath.-
Lo, as at Englife Feafts, fo I regreet

The daintieft laft, to make the end most sweet:
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;
And with thy Bleffing fteel my Lance's point,
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen Coat,
And furbish new the Name of John o' Gaunt
Ev'n in the lufty 'haviour of his fon.

[fperous! Gaunt. Heav'n in thy good Caufe make thee pro

Be fwift like Lightning in the execution,
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the Cafque
Of thy adverfe pernicious enemy.

Rouze up thy youthful blood, be brave, and live. Boling. Mine innocence, God and St. George to thrive!

Mowb. However heav'n 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 Cad off his chains of bandage, and embrace His golden uncoutroul'd enfranchisement, More than my dancing foul doth celebrate This Feaft of battle, with mine adverfary. Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peers, Take from my mouth the wifh of happy years; As gentle and as jocund, as to jeft, Go I to fight: Truth hath a quiet breast.

K. Rich. Farewel, my lord; fecurely I efpy Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. Order the tryal, Marshal, and begin.

Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
Receive thy Lance; and heav'n defend thy 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 Sovereign, and Himself,
On pain to be found falfe 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 ftandeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

On pain to be found falfe and recreant,
Both to defend himself, and to approve
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
To God, his Sovereign, and to him, difloyal:
Courageously, and with a free defire,

Attending but the Signal to begin. [A Charge founded. Mar. Sound, Trumpets; and fet forward, Combatants.

-But ftay, the King hath thrown his warder down. K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their fpears,

And Both return back to their chairs again.
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 fostered;

fubftitutes, but the rhyme, to which fenfe is too often enslaved,

obliged Shakespeare to write jeft, and obliges us to read it.

And,

And, for our eyes do hate the dire afpect
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour 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 3, which in our country's cradle
Draws the fweet infant breath of gentle fleep ;]
Which thus rouz'd up with boift'rous untun'd drums,
And harsh refounding trumpets' dreadful Bray,.
And grating fhock of wrathful iron arms,

2 And for we think, the eaglewinged pride, &c.] Thefe five verfes are omitted in the other editions, and restored from the first of 1598. POPE.

3 To wake our Peace, which thus rouz'd up· Might fright fair Peace,] Thus the fentence ftands in the common reading, abfurdly enough: which made the Oxford Editor, instead of, fright fair Peace, read, be affrighted; as if thefe latter words could ever, poffibly, have been blundered into the former by transcribers. But his bufinefs is to alter as his fancy leads him, not to reform errors, as the text and rules of criticism direct. In a word, then, the true original of the blunder was this: The Editors, before Mr. Pope, had taken their Editions from the Folios, in which the text ftood thus,

the dire afpect Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour fwords; Which thus rouz'd up,

fright fair Peace, This is fenfe. But Mr. Pope, who carefully examined the firft printed plays in Quarto (very much to the advantage of his VOL. IV.

Edition) coming to this place, found five lines, in the firft Edition of this play printed in 1598, omitted in the first general collection of the poet's works; and not enough attending to their agreement with the common text, put them into their place. Whereas, in truth, the five lines were omitted by Shakespeare himself, as not agreeing to the rest of the context; which, on revife, he thought fit to alter. On this account I have put them into hooks, not as fpurious, but as rejected on the author's revise; and, indeed, with great judgment; for, To wake our Peace, which in our country's cradle

C

as

Draws the fweet infant breath of gentle fleep,

pretty as it is in the image, is abfurd in the fenfe; For Peace awake is ftill Peace, as well as when asleep. The difference is, that Peace afleep gives one the notion of a happy people funk in floth and luxury, which is not the idea the fpeaker would raise, and from which state, the fooner it was awaked the better.

WARBURTON.

Might

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, on 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, That Sun, that warms you here, fhall fhine on me: And thofe 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 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 Sentence, my most 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' hands.
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 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 Goaler to attend on me.

* A dearer merit, not fo deep a I wish fome copy would exhibit,

A dearer mede, and not so deep

a maim.

To deferve a mede or reward, is regular and easy.

I am