The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare

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;

Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and
Derby,

Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,

I shall remember more. Bid him-Oh! what?-To
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, untrodden stones?

And what cheer there for welcome, but my
groans ?

Therefore commend me; let him not come
there,

To seek out sorrow that dwells every where :
Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.-Gosford Green, near Coventry.
Lists set out, and a Throne. HERALDS, &c.
attending.

Enter the Lord MARSHAL., and AUMERLE.
Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford
arm'd ?

Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter

in.

Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and

bold,

Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.

Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd,

and stay,

For nothing but his majesty's approach.
Flourish of Trumpets.-Enter King RICHARD,
who takes his seat on his throne; GAUNT,
and
their
several Noblemen, who take
places. A Trumpet is sounded, and an-
swered by another Trumpet within. Then
enter NORFOLK in armour preceded by a
Herald.

K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder
pion

prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's
valour,

In lists, on Thomas Mowbray duke of Norfolk,
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 bold,
Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists;
Except the marshal, and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair designs.
Boling. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sove-
reign's hand,

And bow my knee before his majesty:
For Mowbray and myself are like two men
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
And loving farewell of our several friends.
Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your
highness,

And craves to kiss your hand, and take his
leave.

our arms.

K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him in
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 gored with Mowbray's spear;
As confident, as is the falcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.-
My loving lord, [To Lord MARSHAL.] 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 cheerly drawing breath.—~
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
The dainties last, to make the end most sweet :
O thou, the earthly author of my blood,--
[To GAUNT.
cham-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.

The cause of his arrival here in arms:
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,

And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in

arms:

Against what man thou com'st, and what thy
quarrel;

Speak truly, on thy kuighthood, and thy oath;
And so defend thee, heaven and thy valour !
Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of
Norfolk ;

Who hither 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 issue,
Against the duke of Hereford that appeals me;
And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm,
To prove him, in defending of himself,
A traitor to my God, my king, and me:
And, as I truly fight, defend me, heaven!
[He takes his seat.
Trumpet sounds.- Enter BOLINGBROKE, in
armour; preceded by a Herald.

K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight

Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore
com'st thou hither,

Before King Richard in his royal lists ?
Against whom comest thou; and what's thy
quarrel?

Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!

He house in Essex.

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:

Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and
live.

Boling. Mine innocency, and Saint George to
thrive!
[He takes his seat.
Nor. [Rising.] However heaven, or fortune,
cast any lot,
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 hath a quiet breast.

K. Rich. Farewell, 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 | What is thy sentence then, but speechless death,
Thomas duke of Norfolk.
Which robs my tongue from breathing native
breath?

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, 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
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.
Draw near,
[To the Combatants.
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 bate the dire aspect

Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour's
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 ;]
Which so rous'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 fly-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 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 unstringed viol or a barp;
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 enjaii'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd, with my teeth and lips;
And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Is made my jailer to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,

Too far in years to be a pupil now;

K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compas-
sionate; ⚫

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, uor 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 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
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.

[Exit.

You urg'd 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,
Yo smooth his fault I should have been more
mild:

A partial slander * sought I to avoid,
And in the sentence my own life destroy'd.
Alas, I look'd, when some of you should say,
▲ was too strict, to make mine 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 ride,

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 iny 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
time.

Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time.

Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly gone.

Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.

Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.

Roling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it

Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth 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.
[Exeunt.

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

Enter King RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN;
AUMERLE following.

K. Rich. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,

But to the next highway, and there I left him. K. Rich. And say what store of parting tears

were shed?

Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps He should have had a volume of farewells; Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return.

Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make

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
visits,

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 sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say-I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not-The king exil'd 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 thou go'st, not whence thou

com'st:

But, since it would not, he had none of me. K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt,

When time shall call him home from banishment,

Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,
Observ'd his courtship to the commou 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
smiles,

And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their effects 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,
With-Thanks my countrymen, my loving
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
these thoughts.

Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ire

They shall subscribe them for large sums of This other Eden, demi-paradise ;

This fortress, built by nature for herself,
Against infection, and the hand of war;
This happy breed of men, this little world;
This precious stone set in the silver sea,
Which serves it in the office of a wall,
Or as a moat defensive to a house,
Against the envy of less happier lands;
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this
England,

This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings,
Fear'd by their breed, and famous by their

birth,

physi-Renowned for their deeds as far from home,
(For Christian service, and true chivalry,)
As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son:
This land of such dear souls, this dear dear
land,

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 God, we may make baste, and come too late! [Exeunt.

ACT II.

SCENE I.-London.-A Room in Ely-house. 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 unstaid youth. York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with your breath;

For all in vain comes counsel to his ear.

Dear for her reputation through the world,
Is now leas'd out (I die pronouncing it,)
Like to a tenement, or pelting * farm :
England, bound in with the triumphant sea,
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege
Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame,
With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds;
That England, that was wont to conquer others,
Hath made a shameful conquest of itself:
Oh! would the scandal vanish with my life,
How happy then were my ensuing death!
Enter King RICHARD, and QUEEN; AUMERLE,
BUSHY, GREEN, BAGOT, Ross, and WIL-

LOUGHBY.

York. The king is come: deal mildly with his youth;

Gaunt. Oh! but they say the tongues of dying For young hot colts, being rag`d, do rage the

men

Enforce attention, like deep harmony:

Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent in vain :

For they breathe truth, that breathe their words in pain.

He, that no more may say, is listen'd more Then they whom youth and ease have taught to glose;

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; Writ in remembrance, more than things long past: [hear, 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 flattering 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;
Whose manners still our tardy apish nation
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;
'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt
thou lose.

Gaunt. Methinks I am a prophet new in-
spir'd;

And thus, expiring, do foretell of him;
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last;
For violent fires soon burn out themselves :
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are
short;

He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes :
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder :
Light vanity (insatiate cormorant,
Consuming means) soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle,
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars,

• Flatter.

Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt + in being old:
Within me grief bath kept a tedious fast;
And who abstains from meat, that is not gaunt?
For sleeping England long time have I watch'd;
Watching breeds leanness, leanness is all gaunt :
The pleasure, that some fathers feed upon,
Is my strict fast, I mean-my children's looks,
And, therein fasting, hast thou made me gauut:
Gaunt am I for the grave, gaunt as a grave,
Whose hollow womb inherits nought but bones.
K. Rich. Can sick men play so nicely with
their names?

Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself:

Since thou dost seek to kill my name in me,
I mock my name, great king, to flatter thee.
K. Rich. Should dying men flatter with those

Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill.
Thy death-bed is no lesser than the land,
Wherein thou liest in reputation sick :
And thou, too careless patient as thou art,
Commit'st thy anointed body to the cure
Of those physicians that first wounded thee:
A thousand flatterers sit within thy crown,
Whose compass is no bigger than thy head;
And yet, incaged in so small a verge,

The waste is no whit lesser than thy land.
Oh bad thy grandsire, with a prophet's eye,
Seen how his son's son should destroy his sons,

From forth thy reach he would have laid thy

shame ;

Deposing thee before thou wert possess'd,
Which art possess'd now to depose thyself.
Why, cousin, wert thou regent of the world,
It were a shame to let this land by lease :
But, for thy world, enjoying but this land,
Is it not more than shame, to shame it so ?
Landlord of England art thou now, not king:
Thy state of law is bondslave to the law;
And thou--

K. Rich.a lunatic lean-witted fool,
Presuming on an ague's privilege,
Dar'st with thy frozen admonition

Make pale our cheek; chasing the royal blood,
With fury, from his native residence.
Now by my seat's right royal majesty,
Wert thou not brother to great Edward's son,
This tongue that runs so roundly in thy head,
Should run thy head from thy unreverend
shoulders.

Gaunt. O spare me not, my brother
ward's son,

Ed.

For that I was his father Edward's son;
That blood already, like the pelican,
Hast thou tapp'd out, and drunkenly carous'd:
My brother Gloster, plain well-meaning soul,
(Whoin fair befall in heaven 'mongst happy
souls !)

May be a precedent and witness good,
That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's
blood;

Join with the present sickness that I have ;
And thy unkindness be like crooked age,
To crop at once a too-long withered flower.
Live in thy shame, but die not shame
thee !-

with

These words hereafter thy tormenters be!-
Convey me to my bed, then to my grave:
Love they to live, that love and honour have.
[Exit, borne out by his Attendants.
K. Rich. And let them die that age and sul-
lens have:

Have ever made me sour my patient cheek,
Or bend one wrinkle on my sovereign's face.-
I am the last of noble Edward's sons,

Of whom thy father, prince of Wales, was first;

In war, was never lion rag'd more fierce,
In peace, was never gentle lamb more mild,
Than was that young aud princely gentleman :
His face thou hast, for even so look'd he,
Accomplish'd with the number of thy hours;
But, when he frown'd, it was against the
French,

And not against his friends: his noble hand
Did win what he did spend, and spent not that
Which his triumphant father's hand had won :
His hands were guilty of no kindred's blood,
But bloody with the enemies of his kin.
O Richard! York is too far gone with grief,
Or else he never would compare between.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, what's the matter?
York. O my liege,

Pardon me, if you please; if not, I, pleas'd
Not to be pardon'd, am content withal.
Seek you to seize, and gripe into your hands,
The royalties and rights of banish'd Hereford ?
Is not Gaunt dead? and doth not Hereford
live?

Was not Gaunt just? and is not Harry true?
Did not the one deserve to have an heir?
Is not this heir a well deserving son?
Take Hereford's rights away, and take from time
His charters, and his customary rights;
Let not to-morrow then ensue to-day;
Be not thyself, for how art thou a king,
But by fair sequence and succession ?
Now, afore God (God forbid, I say true!)
If you do wrongfully seize Hereford's rights,
Call in the letters patent that he hath
By his attornies-general to sue
His livery, and deny his offer'd homage,
You pluck a thousand dangers on your head,
You lose a thousand well disposed hearts,
And prick my tender patience to those thoughts
Which honour and allegiance cannot think.
K. Rich. Think what you will; we seize into
our hands

For both hast thou, and both become the grave.
York. 'Beseech your majesty, impute his
To wayward sickliness and age in him: [words His plate, his goods, his money, and his lands.
He loves you, on my life, and holds you dear
As Harry duke of Hereford, were he here.

K. Rich. Right; you say true; as Hereford's iove, so his:

As their's, so mine; and all be as it is.

Enter NORTHUMBERLAND.

North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him
to your majesty.

K. Rich. What says he now ?
North. Nay, nothing; all is said:
His tongue is now a stringless instrument;
Words, life, and all, old Lancaster bath spent.
York. Be York the next that must be bank-
rupt so!

Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe.
K. Rich. The ripest fruit first falls, and so

doth he;

His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be:
So much for that.--Now for our Irish wars:
We must supplant those rough rug-headed

kerns; t

Which Пve like venom, where no venom else,
But only they, hath privilege to live.
And for these great affairs do ask some charge,
Towards our assistance, we do seize to us
The plate, coin, revenues, and moveables,
Whereof our uncle Gaunt did stand possess'd.
York. How long shall I be patient? Ah!
how long

Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong?
Not Gloster's death, nor Hereford's banishment,
Not Gaunt's rebukes, nor England's private

York. I'll not be by the while. My liege, farewell:

What will ensue hereof, there's none can tell;
But by bad courses may be understood,
That their events can never fall out good.

(Exit.

K. Rich. Go, Bushy, to the earl of Wiltshire straight;

Bid him repair to us to Ely-house,

To see this business: To-morrow next
We will for Ireland; and 'tis time, I trow;
And we create, in absence of ourself,
Our uncle York lord governor of England,
For he is just, and always lov'd us well.--
Come on, our queen: to-morrow must we part,
Be merry, for our time of stay is short.

[Flourish. [Exeunt KING, QUEEN, BUSHY, AUMERLE, GREEN, and BAGOT.

North. Well, lords, the duke of Lancaster is

dead.

Ross. And living too; for now his son is duke.

Willo. Barely in title, not in revenue.
North. Richly in both, if justice had her

right.

Ross. My heart is great; but it must break

with silence,

Ere't be disburden'd with a liberal tongue. North. Nay, speak thy mind; and let him

ne'er speak more,

That speaks thy words again, to do thee harm! Willo. Tends that thou'dst speak, to the duke of Hereford ?

If it be so, out with it boldly, man; Quick is mine ear to hear of good towards bim.

Ross. No good at all, that I can do for him ;

3 B

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakspeare, Nide 9