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,
Bu empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
Uspeopled offices, 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. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-Gosford Green, near Coventry. Lists set out, and a Throne. HERALDS, &c. attending.

Eater 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 trum

pet.

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.

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 tight, 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;
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.

our arms.

K. Rich. We will descend, and fold him in Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this roya! 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 As confident, as is the falcon's flight For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear;

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 regret
The dainties last, to make the end most sweet:
O thou, the earthly author of my blood,-

[TO GAUNT.

arms:

Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel;

Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath ;
And 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 ine;
And, by the grace of God, and this mine arm,
To prove him, in defending of himself,
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!

Her house in Essex.

Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,-
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayersTM;
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
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,
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 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 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, aud 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 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 aspect
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour's
swords;

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

To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle

Draws the sweet infaut 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,
Aud 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.
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 exile ;-
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 enjail'd my tongue,
Doubly portcullis'd, with my teeth and lips;
And dull, unfeeling, barren ignorance
Is made my jailer 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. [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 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, uor 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 wauder'd in the air, Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this land: Confess thy treasons, ere thou fly the realm; Since thou hast far to go, bear not aloug The clogging burden 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.

You urg'd me as a judge: but I had rather,
You would have bid ine 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 my 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 he shall go.

[Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD and Train.

Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,

From where you do remain, let paper show. Mar. My lord, no leave take 1; for I will ride,

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

Gaunt. O to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,

That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? Boling. I have too few to take my leave of you,

When the tongue's office should be prodigal
To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
Gaunt. Thy grief is but thy absence for a
time.

Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time.

Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly gone.

Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.

Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou tak'st for pleasure.

Boling. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it

Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage.

Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never raukle more,
Than when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee
on thy way:

Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu;

My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
Where-e'er I wander, boast of this I can,——
Though banish'd yet a trueborn Englishman.
[Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-The same.-A Room in the
King's Castle.

Enter King RICHARD, BAGOT, and GREEN;
AUMERLE following.

K. Rich. We did observe.-Cousin Aumerle, How far brought you high Hereford on his way?

Aum. I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,

But to the next highway, and there I left him. K. Rich. And say what store of parting tears were shed?

Aum. 'Faith, none by me: except the northeast wind.

Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awak'd the sleeping rheum; and so, by chance, Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.

K. Rich. What said our cousin, when you parted with him.

Aum. Farewell:

Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make

Will but remember me, what a deal of world
I wander from the jewels that I love.
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
To foreign passages; and in the end,
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else,
But that I was a journeyman to grief?
Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven
visits,

Are to a wise man ports and happy havens :
Teach thy necessity to reason thus ;
There is no virtue like necessity.
Think not, the king did banish thee;
But thou the king: Woe doth the beavier sit,
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
Go, say-I sent thee forth to purchase honour,
And not-The king exil'd thee: or suppose,
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air,
And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou

com'st:

But, since it would not, he had none of me. K. Rich. He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt,

When time shall call him home from banishment,

Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
Ourself, and Bushy, Bagot here, and Green,
Observ'd his courtship to the common people :-
How he did seem to dive into their hearts,
With humble and familiar courtesy ;
What reverence he did throw away on slaves;
Wooing poor craftsmen, with the craft of

smiles,

And patient underbearing of his fortune,
As 'twere, to banish their effects with him.
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;

A brace of draymen bid-God speed him well,
And had the tribute of bis supple knee,
With-Thanks my countrymen, my loving
friends;

As were our England in reversion his,
And he our subjects next degree in hope.
Green. Well, he is gone; and with him go
these thoughts.

Now for the rebels, which stand out in Ire

laid ;