Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? Bast. Hubert, I think. Hub. Thou hast a perfect thought: I will, upon all hazards, well believe Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well: Who art thou? Bast Who thou wilt: an if thon please, Thou mayst befriend me so much, as to think I come one way of the Plantagenets. Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless night, Have done me shame :-brave soldier, pardon me, That any accent, breaking from thy tongue, Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news abroad? Hub. Why, here walk I, in the black brow of night, To find you out. Bast. Brief, then; and what's the news? Hub. O, my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. Bast. Shew me the very wound of this ill news; I am no woman, I'll not swoon at it. Hub. The king, I fear, is poison'd by a monk: Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him? Bast. Who didst thou leave to tend his majesty? Bast. Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, [Exeunt. Pem. He is more patient [Exit BIGOT. Than when you left him; even now he sung. [sing. Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born To set a form upon that indigest Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude. Re-enter BIGOT and Attendants, who bring ir. KING JOHN in a chair. K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow.room; It would not out at windows, nor at doors. There is so hot a summer in my bosom, That all my bowels crumble up to dust: I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen Upon a parchment; and against this fire Do I shrink up P. Hen. How fares your majesty? K. John. Poison'd,-ill-fare;-dead, forsook, cast of Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, That might relieve you! K. John. The salt in them is hot.- Is, as a fiend, confined to tyrannise Enter the Bastard. Bast. O, I am scalded with my violent motion, And spleen of speed to see your majesty. K. John. O cousin, thou art come to set mine eye: The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd; And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, Are turned to one thread, one little hair; My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, Which holds but till thy news be uttered; And then all this thou seest is but a clod, And module of confounded royalty. Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward; Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him: For, in a night, the best part of my power, As I upon advantage did remove, [The KING dies Bast Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, To push destruction and perpetual shame Sal. It seems you know not then so much as we: Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already: To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, To consummate this business happily. Bast. Let it be so:-and you, my noble prince, With other princes that may best be spared, Shall wait upon your father's funeral. P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd, For so he will'd it. Bast. Thither shall it then. And happily may your sweet self put on To whom, with all submission, on my knee, I do bequeath my faithful services And true subjection everlastingly. Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To rest without a spot for evermore. P. Hen. I have a kind soul that would give you thanks And knows not how to do it, but with tears. Bast. O, let us pay the time but needful woe, But when it first did help to wound itself. ACT I. BISHOP OF CARLISLE. ABBOT OF WESTMINSTER. Lord Marshal; and another Lord SIR PIERCE OF EXTON. SIR STEPHEN SCROOP. Captain of a Band of Welshmen. QUEEN TO KING RICHARD. DUCHESS OF GLOSTER. DUCHESS OF YORK. Lady attending on the Queen. Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, two Gardeners Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants. SCENE,-Dispersedly in ENGLAND and WALES. SCENE I.-LONDON. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, attended; JOHN OF GAUNT, and other Nobles, with him. K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son; Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, Which then our leisure would not let us hear, Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Gaunt. I have, my liege. K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; Or worthily as a good subject should, Ja some known ground of treachery in him? [ment, Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that arguOn some apparent danger seen in him, Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice. K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face to And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear [face, The accuser and the accused freely speak : [Exeunt some Attendants. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK. K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, Boling. First, (heaven be the record to my speech!) In the devotion of a subject's love, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence.Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant; Too good to be so, and too bad to live; Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly. Once more, the more to aggravate the note, With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; And wish, (so please my sovereign,) ere I move, What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may prove. Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain: The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this, Yet can I not of such tame patience boast, I do defy him, and I spit at him; Call him-a slanderous coward, and a villain: And lay aside my high blood's royalty, Nor. I take it up; and by that sword I swear, Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: If I be traitor, or unjustly fight! K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's It must be great, that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. [charge? Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall prove it true; That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles, Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; Suggest his soon-believing adversaries: Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood: K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars!. And bid his ears a little while be deaf, Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: To prove myself a loyal gentleman Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom: In haste whereof, most heartily I pray Your highness to assign our trial-day. K. Rich Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by mr; Let's purge this choler without letting blood: This we prescribe, though no physician; Deep malice makes too deep incision: Good uncle, let this end where it begun; Caunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age: K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is no Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot: My life thou shalt command, but not my shame; The one my duty owes; but my fair name K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: take but my Is spotless reputation; that away, Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; In that I live, and for that will I die. [shame, K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin. Boling. O, God defend my soul from such foul sin! Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear, And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. [Exit GAUNT. K. Rich. We we e not born to sue, bu to command: Which since we can not do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day; There shall your swords and lances arbitrate SCENE II.-The same. [Exeunt A Room in the Duke of Lan caster's Palace. 'Enter GAUNT, and DUCHESS OF GLOSTER. Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's bood Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims, To stir against the butchers of his life. Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur? Or seven fair branches springing from one root: 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 mettle, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee, Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and breath'st, In some large measure to thy father's death, What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's substi His deputy anointed in his sight. Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully, [tute, Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself? Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence. Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom, A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! As much good stay with thee as go with me! Duch. Yet one word more :-Grief boundeth where it With all good speed at Plashy visit me. And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans? To seek out sorrow that dwells everywhere: The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt SCENE III.-Gosford Green, near COVENTRY. Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, de, 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 prepared, and For nothing but his majesty's approach. [stay Flourth 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; And so defend thee heaven and thy valour! Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk; Who hither come engaged by my oath, Trumpet sounds. Enter BOLINGBROKE, in armour, preceded by a Herald. K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, And formally, according to our law, Depose him in the justice of his cause. Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st thou To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me; Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold, Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And how my knee before his majesty: For Mowbray and myself are like two men Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness, 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! [you ; My loving lord, [To Lord Marshal.] I take my leave of The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet: O thou, the earthly author of my blood,- [TO GAUNT Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee pros 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: [perous! Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. Go I to fight. Truth hath a quiet breast. [The KING and the Lords return to their seats. Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance; and God defend the right! [Amen. Boling. [Rising.] Strong as a tower in hope, I cry— Mar. [To an Officer.] Go bear this lance 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, [Norfolk, 2 Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, duke of 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. Draw near, [A long flourish. [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; To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, 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, As to be cast forth in the common air, Or like a cunning instrument cased up, That knows no touch to tune the harmony. Is made my jailer to attend on me. Nor. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, You never shall (so help you truth and heaven!) Nor. And I, to keep all this. Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy;- Nor. No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor, [Exit. K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect Return [To BOLING.] with welcome home from banish ment. Boling. How long a time lies in one little word! Gaunt. I thank my liege, that in regard of me Can change their moons and bring their times about, K. Rich. Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live. K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice, Gaunt. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. O, had it been a stranger, not my child, To smooth his fault I should have been more mild: 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, K. Rich. Cousin, farewell:-and, uncle, bid him so; Six years we banish him, and he shall go. [know, [Flourish. Exeunt K. RICHARD and train. Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must not From where you do remain, let paper shew. Mar. My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride, As far as land will let me, by your side. Gaunt. O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends? [words, 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 so, Which finds it an enforced pilgrimage. Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits, Think not the king did banish thee, But thou the king: woe doth the heavier sit, Go, say-I sent thee forth to purchase honour, To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou com❜st: The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd, Or wallow naked in December snow, My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet! [way; [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. [shed? K. Rich. And say what store of parting tears were Aum. 'Faith, noue by me: except the north-east wind, Which then blew bitterly against our faces, Awaked 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 And, for my heart disdained that my tongue That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave. He should have had a volume of farewells; 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, Observed 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, |