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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 thou shed,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear:
As confident, as is the falcon's flight
Against a bird, do Iwith Mowbray fight.
My loving lord, [to Lord Marsh.]. I 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 chearly 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,
[to Gaunt.]
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 furbish 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 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 saint George to
[He takes his seat.]
Nor. [rising.] However heaven, or fortune,

Vol. IV.

thrive!

cast my lot,

B

There lives, or dies, true to king Richard's throne,
A loyal, just, and upright gentleman:
Never did captive with a freer heart
Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace
His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,
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 bath a quiet bleast.
K. Rich. Farewel, my lord: securely I espy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
Order the trial, marshal, and begin.

--

"

The king and the lords return to their seats.] Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! Boling. [rising] Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.

Mar. Go bear this lance [to an officer.] 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 false and recreant,

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, Lancastet, 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, com[Acharge sounded.?

batants.

Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down. K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,

And both return back to their chairs again: Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets

sound,

While we return these dukes what we decree.

[A long flourish.] [to the Combatants.]

Draw near,
And list, what with our council we have done.
For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of cruel wounds plough'd up with neighbours'
swords;

[And for we think the eagle-winged pride
Of sky aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
With rival-hating envy, set you on

To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle

Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;1 Which so rouz'd up with boisterous untun'd drums,

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, cousin 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,

That sun, that warms you here, shall shine 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 some unwillingness pronounce:
The sly slow 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.

Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign

liege,

And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth:
A dearer merit, not so deep a 'maim

As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your highnefs' 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 unstringed viol, or a harp;
Or like a cunning instrument cas'd 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;
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 speechlefs death, Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?

K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassion

ate;

After our sentence plaining comes too late.

Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's

light,

To dwell in 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, regreet, 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 mine enemy;"
By this time, had the king permitted us,"
One of our souls had wander'd in the air,
Banish'd this frail sepulcher of our flesh,
As now our flesh is banish'd from this land:
Confefs thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm;
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burthen of a guilty soul.

Not. 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 know;
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
Farewell, my liege: Now no way can I stray;
Save back to England, all the world's my way.

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[Exit.]

K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine

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I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect ath from the number of his banish'd years Pluck'd four away; Six frozen winters spent, Return [to Bol.] with welcome home from banishment. B40

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