Boling. O, Heaven defend my soul from such foul sin!

Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? Or with pale beggar fear impeach my height Before this outdar'd dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong,

Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear
The slavish motive of recanting fear;
And spit it bleeding, in his high disgrace,
Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's
face.
[Exit GAUNT.
K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to
command:

Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day;
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate;
Since we cannot atone you," you shall see b
Justice design the victor's chivalry.
Lord Marshal, command our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home-alarms. [Exeunt.

с

SCENE II.-London. A Room in the Duke of Lancaster's Palace.5

Enter GAUNT, and DUCHESS OF GLOSTER.6 Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood

Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims,
To stir against the butchers of his life.
But since correction lieth in those hands,
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
Who when he sees the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper
spur?

Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ?
Edward's seven sons,7 whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven phials of his sacred blood,

Or seven fair branches springing from one root:
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
Some of those branches by the destinies cut:
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Glos-
ter,-

One phial full of Edward's sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;

Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all vaded,a

By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe. Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb,

That mettle, that self-mould, that fashioned thee, Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and

breath'st,

Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life,
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair :
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we entitle patience
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is to 'venge my Gloster's death.
Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's
substitute,

His deputy anointed in his sight,

Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
An angry arm against his minister.

Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself?b

Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence.

Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt . Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! Or, if misfortune miss the first career, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,8 That they may break his foaming courser's back, And throw the rider headlong in the lists, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford !

a Faded. So all the old copies; modern editors read faded. But to vade seems to have a stronger sense than to fade, although fade was often written vade. Still we may trace the distinction. In the "Mirrour for Magistrates" we have, "The barren fields, which whilom flower'd as they would never vade."

This is clearly in the sense of fade. In Spenser we have, "However gay their blossom or their blade

Do flourish now, they into dust shall vade." Here we have, as clearly, the sense to pass away, to vanish. But, after all, the old writers probably used the words without distinction; for doubtless they are the same words. b Complain myself. The verb is here the same as the French verb, se plaindre.

c Caitiff. The original meaning of this word was, a prisoner. Wickliffe has "he stighynge an high ledde caityfte caityf" (captivity captive). As the captive anciently became a slave, the word gradually came to indicate a man in a servile condition-a mean creature-a dishonest person. The history of language is often the history of opinion; and it is not surprising that in the days of misused power, to be weak, and to be guilty, were synonymous. The French chétif had anciently the meaning of captif.

Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's wife

With her companion grief must end her life. Gaunt. Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry : As much good stay with thee, as go with me! Duch. Yet one word more ;-Grief boundeth

where it falls,

Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
I take my leave before I have begun ;

For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.
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;
I shall remember more. Bid him-O, what ?-
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,10 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.

Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrel :

Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thine oath; As 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 myself,
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 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'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! Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and

Derby,

Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,
To 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;

The first folio, deviating from the three first editions, reads "his succeeding issue; "-the succeeding issue of the king. My succeeding issue appears to convey a higher and finer meaning. Mowbray owed to his descendants to defend his loyalty and truth to them, as well as to his God and to his king. Their fortunes would have been ruined by his attainder; their reputations compromised by his disgrace. The sentiment, in its noblest form, is in Burke's most pathetic argument that he owed to the memory of the son he had lost the duty of vindicating himself from unjust accusation.-Letter to the Duke of Bedford.

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.
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 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 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:

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 my 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,

a Waren coat. The original meaning of the noun wax, is that of something pliable, yielding. Weak and wax have the same root. Mowbray's waxen coat, into which Bolingbroke's lance's point may enter, is his frail and penetrable coat, or armour.

b Furbish. Thus the quarto of 1597; the folio furnish. To furbish is to polish. To furnish to dress.

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 thy 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, 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 decrec.—
[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 hate the dire aspect
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours'
swords;

a To jest. A jest was sometimes used to signify a mask, or pageant. Thus, in the old play of Hieronymo:"He promised us, in honour of our guest,

To grace our banquet with some pompous jest." To jest, therefore, in the sense in which Mowbray here uses it, is to play a part in a mask.

b Warder. The truncheon, or staff of command.

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

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

a On you. So the old copies. Pope and some subsequent editors read, you on.

Death. So the folio. The early quartos have life. In Richard's speech to Mowbray he uses life in the same sense. e Sly slow hours. So the old copies. Pope would read Ay-slow. Chapman, in his translation of the Odyssey, has those sly hours." It would hardly be fair to think that Pope changed the text that he might have the credit of originality in the following line :

"All sly slow things, with circumspective eyes."

d Dear exile. The manner in which Shakspere uses the word dear, often presents a difficulty to the modern reader. Twenty-five lines before this we have the "dear blood" of the kingdom-the valued blood. We have now the "dear exile" of Norfolk-the harmful exile. Horne Tooke has this explanation: To dere, the old English verb, from the Anglo-Saxon der-ian, is to hurt,-to do mischief; and thence dearth, meaning, which hurteth, dereth, or maketh dear. But one of the most painful consequences of mischief on a large scale, such as the mischief of a bad season, was dearth -the barrenness, the scarcity, produced by the hurtful agent. What was spared was thence called dear-precious -costly-greatly coveted-highly prized. Professor Craik Points out, in his Philological Commentary on Julius Cæsar,' that the Anglo-Saxon word answering to precious or beloved, is deóran or dyran, to hold dear, to love.

* A dearer merit. A more valued reward. Johnson says to deserve a merit is a phrase of which he knows not any example. Shakspere here distinctly means to deserve a reward; for merit is strictly the part or share earned or HISTORIES-VOL. I. H

As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved 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 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 speechless death, Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?

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 13 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, or 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:

b.

gained. Prior, who wrote a century after Shakspere, uses the word in the same sense:

"Those laurel-groves, the merits of thy youth,
Which thou from Mahomet did'st greatly gain."

a Compassionate. This is the only instance in which Shakspere uses compassionate in the sense of complaining. Theobald suggests become passionate.

b So far. The earlier editions read so fare; the second folio, so farre. Johnson's interpretation of this passage seems to be just: "Norfolk, so far I have addressed myself to thee as to mine enemy, I now utter my last words with kindness and tenderness; confess thy treasons." 95

Confess thy treasons ere thou fly this realın;
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burthen 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.

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

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

Boling. How long a time lies in one little

word!

Four lagging winters, and four wanton springs, End in a word: Such is the breath of kings.

Gaunt. I thank my liege, that, in regard of

me,

He shortens four years of my son's exile;
But little vantage shall I reap thereby ;
For ere the six years that he hath to spend
Can change their moons, and bring their times
about,

My oil-dried lamp, and time-bewasted light,
Shall be extinct with age and endless night;
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
And blindfold death not let me see my son.
K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years
to live.

Gaunt. But not a minute, king, that thou canst give:

Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,

And pluck nights from me, but not lend a

morrow:

Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage;
Thy word is current with him for my death:
But, dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good
advice,

Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave;
Why at our justice seem'd thou then to lower?
Gaunt. Things sweet to taste prove in di-
gestion sour.

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,

To 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,
I was too strict, to make mine own away;
But you gave leave to mine 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 be shall go.

[Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD and Train. Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,

From where you do remain, let paper shew.

Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride,

As far as land will let me, by your side.

Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard