Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine ; that bed, that womb,
That metal, that felf-mould, that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man; and though thou liv'st, and breath'ft,
Yet art thou flain in him : thou doft consent
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seeft 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 Naughter'd,
Thou shew'st the naked path-way 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 fight,
Hath caus’d his death: the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge ; for I may never lift
An angry arm against his minifter.

Dutch. Where then, alas! may I ? complain myself?
Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence.

Dutch. 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 fins so heavy in his bosom,
That they may break his foaming courser's back,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
? complain)-bewail.

A caitiff

въ3

* A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford ! Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother's wife, With her companion grief must end her life.

Gaunt. Siller, farewell : I must to Coventry :
As much good stay with thee, as go with me!
Dutch. 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 forrow 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-Oh, 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, untrodden stones?
And what hear there for welcome, but my groans ?
Therefore commend me; let him not come there,
To seek out forrow-That dwells

every

where : Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die; The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.

[Exeunt.

The Lifts, at Coventry. 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.

& A caitiff recreant)- A wretch reduced so low as to cry out for mercy.

unfurnishd)-naked--In our old castles the stone walls were covered with tapestry, hung upon hooks, whence it was readily removed, together with the family.

Mar.

Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.

Aum. Why then, the champions are prepard, and stay For nothing, but his majesty's approach. [Flourish. The trumpets found, and the King enters with Gaunt, Bushy,

Bagot, and others : when they are fet, enter the duke of Norfolk in armour.

K. Ricb. 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,

[To Mowbray. And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms; Against what man thou com'ft, and what thy quarrel : Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath, As so defend thee heaven, and thy valour ! Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Nor

folk ; 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 his 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! Trumpets found. Enter Bolingbroke, appellant, in armour.

K. Ricb. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, Both who he is, and why he cometh hither d defend, ]-forbid.

Thus

e my.

Bb4

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'it thou

hither,
Before king Richard, in his royal lists ? (To Boling.
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 lifts, 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 lifts;
Except the marshal, and fuch 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 highness,

[To K. Ricb. And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave.

K. Rich. We will defcend 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. Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear

{ Depose bin] -Examine him upon his oath,

For

For me, if I be gord with Mowbray's spear :
As confident, as is the faulcon's fight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
My loving lord, I take my leave of you ;
Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle ;
Not fick, although I have to do with death;
But lusty, young, and chearly drawing breath.
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet :
Oh thou, the earthly author of my blood,

[To Gaunt. Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Doch 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 lufty '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 : Rouze up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.

Boling. Mine innocency, and saint George 'to thrive!

Mowb. However heaven, or fortune, caft 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 & My loving lord, &c.]–To the Lord Marshal, T. Holland, Duke of

u regreer)-salute. * waxen coat,]—as easily to be penetrated by me, as if composed of Wax; flexible,

k the casque)--helmet. 1.19 tbrive ! 1-1 invoke their aid.

Surrey.