And throw the rider headlong in the lists, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans? [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 several noblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter Norfolk in armour, preceded by a Herald. K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion 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 knighthood, and thy oath; Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk; Who hither come engaged by my oath, To God, my king, and my succeeding issue, [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 quar rel? 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, Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold, 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 Then let us take a ceremonious leave, Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness, And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave. Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My loving lord, [To Lord Marshal.] I take my leave 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: my blood, Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, [To Gaunt. Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosperous! Be swift like lightning in the execution; Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. Boling. Mine innocency, and saint George to [He takes his seat. thrive! 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 |