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 sovereign'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 high-

ness,

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 casque1

Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:

Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and

live.

thrive!

Boling. Mine innocency, and Saint George to [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,
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:

9

waxen coat,] The object of Bolingbroke's request is, that the temper of his lance's point might as much exceed the mail of his adversary, as the iron of that mail was harder than wax.

HENLEY.

1 Fall like amazing thunder on the casque-] To amaze, in an cient language, signifies to stun, to confound.

As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,2
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 Thomas duke of Norfolk.

1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Der

by,

Stands here for God, his sovereign, and him

self,

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, com

batants.

[A Charge sounded.

Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.

2 As gentle and as jocund, as to jest,] To jest sometimes signifies in old language to play a part in a mask.

3

hath thrown his warder -] A warder appears to have been a kind of truncheon carried by the person who presided at these single combats.

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 hate the dire aspéct

Of civil 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;]
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.

✦ And for we think the eagle-winged pride, &c.] These five verses are omitted in the other editions, and restored from the first of 1598.

POPE.

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 exíle ;-
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 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 compassionate; 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.

compassionate;] for plaintive.

[Retiring.