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Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair: Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and
For nothing but his majesty's approach.
Flourish of trumpets. Enter King RICHARD, Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel ; for heaven's
who takes his seat on his throne ; GAUNT, and substitute,
several Noblemen, who take their places. A His deputy anointed in his sight,
trumpet is sounded, and answered by another Hath caus'd his death : the which, if wrongfully,
trumpet within. Then enter NORFOLK ir ar Let heaven revenge ; for I may never lift
mour, preceded by a Herald. An angry arm against his minister.
K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion Duch. Where then, alas ! may I complain the cause of his arrival here in arms: myself?
Ask him his name ; and orderly proceed Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and To swear him in the justice of his cause. defence.
Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold And why thou com’st, thus knightly clad in arms: Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: Against what man thou com'st, and what thy O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, quarrel : That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast ! Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath; Or, if misfortune miss the first career,
And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of That they may break his foaming courser's back, Norfolk ; And throw the rider headlong in the lists, Who hither come engaged by my oath, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford ! (Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate!) Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's Both to defend my loyalty and truth, wife,
To God, my king, and my succeeding issue, With her companion grief must end her life. Against the duke of Hereford, that appeals me;
Gaunt. Sister, farewell : I must to Coventry: And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm, As much good stay with thee, as go with me! To prove him, in defending of myself, Duch. Yet one word more ;-Grief boundeth A traitor to my God, my king, and me: where it falls,
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
[He takes his seat. I take my leave before I have begun; For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done. Trumpet sounds. Enter BOLINGBROKE ir Commend me to my brother, Edmund York.
armour, preceded by a Herald. Lo, this is all :-Nay, yet depart not so:
K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, Though this be all, do not so quickly go; Both who he is, and why he cometh hither I shall remember more. Bid him-o, what ? - Thus plated in habilirents of war; With all good speed at Plashy visit me. And formally, according to our law, Alack, and what shall good old York there see, Depose him in the justice of his cause. But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls, Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ?
com'st thou hither, And what cheer there for welcome but mygroans? Before king Richard, in his royal lists ? Therefore commend me ; let him not come there, Against whom comest thou and that's thy To seek out sorrow, that dwells every where : quarrel? Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die ; Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and
Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, SCENE III.-Gosford Green, near Coventry. Toprove, by heaven's grace, and my body's
valour, Lists set out, and a throne. Heralds, fc. at- In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk, tending.
That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous,
To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me; Enter the Lord Marshal, and AUMERLE.
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold; Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford Or daring-hardy, as to touch the lists ; arm'd ?
Except the marshal, and such officers Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.) Appointed to direct these fair designs.
Boling. Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sove- Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and reign's hand,
Derby, And bow my knee before his majesty: Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men, Boling. [Rising: ] Strong as a tower in hope, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage ;
I cry-Amen. Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
Mar. Go bear this lance [To an Officer.] to And loving farewell of our several friends.
Thoras, duke of Nortolk. Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your 1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and highness,
Derby, And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave. Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, K. Rich. We will descond, and fold him in On pain to be found false and recreant, our arms.
Toprove the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, A traitor to his God, his king, and him, So be thy fortune in this royal fight!
And dares him to set forward to the fight. Farewell, my blood ; which it to-day thou shed, 2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
duke of Norfolk, Boling. 0, let no noble eye profane a tear On pain to be found false and recreant, For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear ;
Bot to defend himself, and to approve As confident, as is the falcon's flight
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.- To God, his sovereign, and to him, disloyal ; My loving lord, [To lord Marshal.] I take my Courageously, and with a free desire, leave of you ;
Attending but the signal to begin. Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle:
Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, Not sick, although I have to do with death ;
[A charge sounded. But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.- Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down. Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and The daintiest last, to make the end more sweet: O thou, the earthly author of my blood,– And both return back to their chairs again :
[Tó Gaunt. Withdraw with us :—and let the trumpets sound, Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,
While we return these dukes what we decrce. Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up
[A long Flourish. To reach at victory above my head,
[To the Combatants. Add proof unto mine arniour with thy prayers; And list what with our council we have done. And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd That it may enter Mowbray's waxen cont, With that dear blood, which it hath fostered; And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt, And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Even in the lusty 'haviour of his son.
Of civil wounds, plough'd up with neighbours' Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee swords; prosperous !
And for we think the eagle-winged pride Be swift like lightning in the execution ; Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
With rival-hating envy, set you on Fall like amazing thunder on the casque To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep; Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. Which so rous'd up with boisterous untun'd Boling. Mine innocency, and Saint George to drums, thrive!
[He lakes his seat. With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray, Nor. [Rising.] However heaven, or fortune, And grating shock of wrathtul iron arms, cast my lot,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace, There lives or dies, true to king Richard's throne, And make us wade even in our kindred's blood; A loyal, just, and upright gentleman :
Therefore, we banish you our territories : Never did captive with a freer heart
You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of death, Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields, His golden uncontrolld enfranchisement, Shall not regreet our fair dominions, More than my dancing soul doth celebrate But tread the stranger paths of banishment. This feast of battle with mine adversary.-- Boling. Your will be done : This must my Most mighty liege, -and my companion peers,
comfort be,Take from my mouth the wish of happy years: That sun, that warms you here, shall shineon me; As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,
And those his golden beams, to you here lent, Go I to fight : Truth hath a quiet breast. Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.
K. Rich. Farewell, my lord : securely I espy K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
doom, Order the trial, marshal, and begin.
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce : [The King and the Lords return to their seats. The fly-slow hours shall not determinate
The dateless limit of thy dear exíle ;
K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine The hopeless word of-never to return
eyes Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect Nor. A heavy sentence, my most sovereign Hath from the number of his banish'd years liege,
Pluck'd four away :-Six frozen winters spent, And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth: Return (To Bolingbroke.] with welcome home A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
from banishment. As to be cast forth in the common air,
Boling. How long a time lies in one little word! Have I deserved at your highness' hand. Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, The language I have learn'd these forty years, End in a word : Such is the breath of kings. My native English, now I must forego:
Guunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of me, And now my tongue's use is to me no more, He shortens four years of my son's exíle : Than an unstringed viol or a hárp;
But little vantage shall I reap thereby; Or like a cunning instrument cas'd up, For, ere the six years, that he hath to spend, Or, being open, put into his hands,
Can change their moons, and bring their times That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
about, Within my mouth you have engaoľd my tongue, My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light, Doubly portcullis'd, with my teeth, and lips; Shall be extinct with age, and endless night; And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance,
My inch of taper will be burnt and done, Is made my gaoler, to attend on me.
And blindfold death not let me see my son. I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years Too far in years to be a pupil now;
to live. What is thy sentence then, but speechless death, Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst Which robs my tongue from breathing native give : breath?
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate; And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow: After our sentence, plaining comes too late. Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: light,
Thy word is current with him for my death; To dwell in solemn shades of endless night. But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
[Retiring K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave; thee.
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lower? Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; Gaunt. Things sweet to taste, prove in digesSwear by the duty that you owe to heaven,
tion sour. (Our part therein we banish with yourselves,) You urg'd me as a judge ; but I had rather, To keep the oath that we administer :- You would have bid me argue like a father :You never shall (so help you truth and heaven!) O, had it been a stranger, not my child, Embrace each other's love in banishment; Tosmooth his fault I should have been more mild: Nor never look upon each other's face ; A partial slander sought I to avoid, Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile And in the sentence my own life destroy'd. This lowering tempest of your home-bred hate; | Alas, I look'd, when some of you should say, Nor never by advised purpose meet,
I was too strict, to make mine own away; To plot, contrive, or complot any ill,
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue, 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land. Against my will, to do myself this wrong, Boling. I swear.
K. Rich. Cousin, farewell :-and, uncle, bid Nor. And I, to keep all this.
Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine'enemy ;- Six years we banish him, and he shall go. By this time, had the king permitted us,
[Flourish. Exeunt K. Richard and train. One of our souls had wander'd in the air,
Aum. Cousin, farewell : what presence must Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
not know, As now our flesh is banish'd from this land : From where you do remain, let paper show. Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm ; Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, Since thou hast far to go, bear not along As far as land will let me, by your side. The clogging burden of a guilty soul.
Gaunt. 0, to what purpose dost thou heard Nor. No, Bolingbroke ; if ever I were traitor, thy words, My name be blotted from the book of life, That thou return’st no greeting to thy friends? And I from heaven banish'd, as from hence ! Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you, But what thou art, heaven, thou, and I do know; When the tongue's
office should be prodigal And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.- To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart
. Farewell, my liege :-Now no way can I stray ; Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a time. Save back to England, all the world's my way, Boling. Joy absent, grief” is present for that
him so ;
Gaunt. What is six winters ? they are quickly gone.
SCENE IV. The same. A room in the King's Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one
castle. hour ten. Gaunt. Call it a travel, that thou tak'st for
Enter King RICHARD, Bagot, and Green; pleasure.
AUMERLE, following: Boling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall K. Rich. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerle,
How far brought you high Hereford on his way? Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.
Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem a foil, wherein thou art to set
But to the next highway, and there I left him. The precious jewel of thy home-return.
K. Rich. And, say, what store of parting tears Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I were shed? make
Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the northWill but remember me, what a deal of world
east wind, I wander from the jewels that I love.
Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Must I not serve a long apprenticehood Awak’d the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance, To foreign passages; and in the end,
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear. Having my freedom, boast of nothing else, K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you But that I was a journeyman to grief?
parted with him? Gaunt. All places, that the eye of heaven visits, Aum. Farewell : Are to a wise man ports and happy havens : And, for my heart disdained that my tongue Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft There is no virtue like necessity.
To counterfeit oppression of such grief, Think not, the king did banish thee;
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. But thou the king: Woe doth the heavier sit, Marry, would the word farewell have lengthen’d Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
hours, Go, say—I sent thee forth to purchase honour, And added years to his short banishment, And not the king exíld thee : or suppose,
He should have had a volume of farewells ; Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
But since it would not, he had none of me. And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin ; but 'tis Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
doubt, Tolie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com’st: When time shall call him home from banishment, Suppose the singing birds, musicians;
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends. The grass, whereon thou tread'st, the presence Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green, strew'd;
Observ'd his courtship to the common people : The flowers, fair ladies; and thy steps, no more How he did seem to dive into their hearts, Than a delightful measure, or a dance :
With humble and familiar courtesy ; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite What reverence he did throw away on slaves ; The man that mocks at it, and sets it light. Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of smiles,
Boling. 0, who can hold a fire in his hand, And patient underbearing of his fortune, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus ?
As 'twere, to banish their effects with him. Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench; By bare imagination of a feast?
A brace of draymen bid--God speed him well, Or wallow naked in December snow,
And had the tribute of his supple knee, By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? With-Thanks, my countrymen, my loving 0, no! the apprehension of the good,
friends ; Gives but the greater feeling to the worse : As were our England in reversion his, Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more, And he our subjects' next degree in hope. Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore. Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee these thoughts. on thy way :
Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ireland; Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Expedient manage must be made, my liege ; Boling: Then, England's ground, farewell; Ere further leisure yield them further means sweet soil, adieu ;
For their advantage, and your highness' loss. My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! K. Rich. We will ourself in person to this war. Where-e'er I wander, boast of this I can And, for our coffers—with too great a court, Though banish’d, yet a true-born Englishman. And liberal largess,--are grown somewhat light,
[Exeunt. We are enforc'd to farm our royal realm ;
The revenue whereof shall furnish us
Whereto, when they shall know what men are | Suddenly taken ; and hath sent post-haste, rich,
To entreat your majesty to visit him. They shall subscribe them for large sums of K. Rich. Where lies he? gold,
Bushy. At Ely-house. And send them after to supply our wants; K. Rich. Now put it, heaven, in his phys. For we will make for Ireland presently.
To help him to his grave immediately
The lining of his coffers shall make coats
To deck our soldiers for these Irish warsBushy, what news?
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him: Bushy. Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, Pray God, we may make haste, and come tog my lord;
'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou SCENE I.-London. A room in Ely-house.
Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; Gaunt on a couch ; the Duke of York, and
And thus, expiring, do foretell of him: others, standing by him.
His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last; Gaunt. Will the king come? that I may breathe For violent fires soon burn out themselves :
Small showers last long, but sudden storms are In wholesome counsel to his unstaid youth.
short; York. Vex not yourself, nor strive not with He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; your breath;
With eager feeding, food doth choke the feeder: For all in vain comes counsel to his ear. Light vanity, insatiate cormorant, Gaunt. 0, but they say, the tongues of dying Consuming means, soon preys upon itself.
This royal throne of kings, this scepter'd isle, Enforce attention like deep harmony:
This earth of majesty, this seat of Mars, Where words are scarce, they are seldom spent. This other Eden, demi-paradise ; in vain;
This fortress, built by nature for herself, For they breathe truth, that breathe their words Against infection, and the hand of war; in pain.
This happy breed of men, this little world; He, that no more must stay, is listen’d more This precious stone set in the silver sea, Than they, whom youth and ease have taught Which serves it in the office of a wall, to glose;
Or as a moat defensive to a house, More are men's ends mark’d, than their lives be- Against the envy of less happier lands; fore:
This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this The setting sun, and music at the close,
England, As the last taste of sweets, is sweetest last; This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, Writ in remembrance, more than things long past: Feard by their breed, and famous by their birth, Though Richard my life's counsel would not hear, Renowned for their deeds as far from home, My death's sad tale may yet undeaf his ear. (For Christian service, and true chivalry,) York. No; it is stopp'd with other flattering As is the sepulchre in stubborn Jewry, sounds,
Of the world's ransom, blessed Mary's son: As, praises of his state: then there are found This land of such dear souls, this dear dear land, Lascivious metres ; to whose venom sound Dear for her reputation through the world, The open ear of youth doth always listen : Is now leas’d out (I die pronouncing it) Report of fashions in proud Italy;
Like to a tenement, or pelting farmı : Whose manners still our tardy apish nation England, bound in with the triumphant sea, Limps after, in base imitation.
Whose rocky shore beats back the envious siege Where doth the world thrust forth a vanity, Of watery Neptune, is now bound in with shame, (So it be new, there's no respect how vile,) With inky blots, and rotten parchment bonds; . That is not quickly buzz'd into his ears ? That England, that was wont to conquer others, Then all too late comes counsel to be heard, Hath made a shameful conquest of itself: Where will doth mutiny with wit’s regard. 0, would the scandal vanish with my life, Direct not him, whose way himself will choose ; | How happy then were my ensuing death!