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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;
All desolate will I from hence, and die ;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.


SCENE IV. The lifts at Coventry. Enter the Lord Marshal, and the Duke of 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, fprightfully 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. The trumpets found, and the King enters with his Nobles:

when they are set, enter the Duke of Norfolk in arms, defendant,

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?

[To Mowb 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 thine oath, And so defend thee Heav'n, and thy valour !

Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of NorWho hither come, engaged by my oath, [ folk, (Which heav'n defend a knight should violate !) Both to defend my loyalty and truth, To God, my King, and my fucceeding 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 Heav'n

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The trumpets found. Enter Bolingbroke, appellant, in


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 caufe. [hither,

Mar. What is thy name, and wherefore com'ft thou Before King Richard, in his Royal lifts? [To Boling. Against whom com'lt thou? and what's thy quarrel? Speak like a true knight, so defend thee Heav'n!

Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
Am I, who ready here do stand in arms,
To prove, by Heav'n'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 heav'n, King Richard, and to me ;
And, as I truly fight, defend me Heav'n !

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 defigns.

Boling. Lord Marshal, let me kiss niy Sovereign's
And bow my knee before his Majesty : [hand,
For Mowbray and myself are like two men
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
And loving farewel, of our several friends.
Mar. The'appellant in all duty greets your Highness,

[T. K. Rich, 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 caule is right,
So be thy fortune in this Royal fight!
Farewel, 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,
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's fpear :
As confident, as is the faulcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
My loving Lord, I take my leave of



Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle. *
Oh thou! the earthly author of my blood, [ToGaunt.
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,
Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers ;
And with thy bleflings steel my lance's point,
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat,
And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt
Ev'n in the lusty 'haviour of his son.

Gaunt. Heav'n in thy good caule make thee prospe-
Be swift like lightning in the execution ; [rous !
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the calk
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy.
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be brave and live.

Bol. Mine innocence God and St. George to thrive!

Mowb. However Heav'n or Fortune cart 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 uncontrould enfranchisement,
More than my dancing foul 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 just,
Go I to fight : Truth hath a quiet breast.

K, Rich. Farewel, my Lord; securely I elpy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
Order the trial, Marshal, and begin.

Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance; and Heav'n defend thy right!

Boling. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry, Amen. Mar. Go bear this lance to Thomas Duke of Norfolk. i 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.

Lord Aumerle. Not fick, although I have to do with death ; But lusty, young, and chearly drawing leath. Lo, as at English feasts, fo I

regreet The daintieft laft, to make the end most sweet : Oh thou, &c,

2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of On pain to be found false and recreant, [Norfolk, 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. [ A charge founded.

Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants, -But stay, the King hath thrown his warder down.

K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their And both return back to their chairs again : [spears, Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets found, While we return these Dukes what we decree.

[ A long flourish; after which the King

Speaks to the combatants. Draw near ; And list, what with our council we have done. For that our kingdom's earth should not be foil'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 neighbour 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 thus rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums, And 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 :

* The five lines inclosed within crotchets, were inserted, from the first edition in 1598; by Mr. Pope: but inadvertently; for they were afterwards omitted by Shakespear, as not agreeing to the rest of the context; which, on revise, he thought fit to alier, Mr. Warburton.


Therefore we banish you our territories.
You, cousin Hereford, on pain of death,
Till twice five fummers have enrich'd our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
But tread the stranger paths of banishment.

Boling. Your will be done: this inuit my comfort be,
That fun that warms you here, shall shine on me;
And those his golden beams to you here lent,
Shall point on me, and gild my baniihinent.

K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Which I with some unwillingness pronounce. The fly-flow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile : The hopeless word, of never to return, Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.

Mowb. A heavy fentence, 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' hands. The language I have learn'd these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo; 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. * I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, Too far in years to be a pupil now: What is thy fentence, then, but fpeechless death, Which robs my tongue from breathing natiye breath?

K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate; After our fentence; plaining comes too late.

Mowb. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in folemn shades of endless night.

K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with ye.

- the harmony. Within



have engaol'd my tongue;
Doubly port-cullis'd with my teeth and lips;
And dull, unfeeling, barren Ignorance
Is made my gaoler to attend on me,
I am too old, 6.


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