Heralds, Two Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.
SCENE, dispersedly, in England and Wales.
Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other
Noblemen and Attendants.
K. Rich. OLD John of Gaunt, time-honour'd
Lancaster,
Or worthily, as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery in him?
Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that ar-
gument,-
5 On some apparent danger seen in him,
Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.
K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face
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.
[him,
K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou sounded
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; (15) My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
10 The accuser, and the accused, freely speak:-
High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray. Boling. Many years of happy days befal
This history, however, comprises little more than the two last years of this prince. The action of the drama begins with Bolingbroke's appealing the duke of Norfolk, on an accusation of high treason, which fell out in the year 1398; and it closes with the murder of king Richard at Pomfret-castle towards the end of the year 1400, or the beginning of the ensuing year. * Aumerle is the French for what we now call Albemarle, which is a town in Normandy. Mr. Steevens says, it ought to be Lord Berkley, as there was no Earl Berkley 'till some ages after. * Now spelt Roos, one of the duke of Rutland's titles. i. e. bond.
Μουδ.
Morub. Each day still better other's happiness; Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Add an immortal title to your crown!
K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but
flatters us,
As well appeareth by the cause you come;
Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.
Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial:
And, when I mount, alive may I not light,
If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!
K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's
5 It must be great, than can inherit us3
So much as of a thought of ill in him. [true;
Boling. Look, what I said, my life shall prove it
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles,
In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers;
Boling. First (heavenbe the recordtomyspeech!) 10 The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
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-drawn1 sword
[zea!:
Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.
Besides I say, and will in battle prove,
Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge
That ever was survey'd by English eye,-
15 That all the treasons, for these eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land, [spring
Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and
Further I say, and further will maintain
Upon his bad life, to make all this good,-
20 That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death;
Suggest his soon-believing adversaries;
And, consequently, like a traitor coward, [blood;
Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of
Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,
25 Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,
To me, for justice, and rough chastisement;
And, by the glorious worth of my descent,
This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.
K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars!-
Mowb. Let not my cold words here accuse my
'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,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say:
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me, 35
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it had return'd
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
I do defy him, and I spit at him;
Call him-a slanderous coward, and a villain:
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds;
And meet him, were I ty'd to run a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable
Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
Mean time, let this defend my loyalty,-
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
30 Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
Mowb. O, let my sovereign turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
'Till I have told this slander of his blood,
How God, and good men, hate so foula liar. [ears:
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and
Were he my brother, rother, nay, my kingdom's heir,
(As he is but my father's brother's son)
Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow,
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
40 Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul:
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Morwb. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as tothy heart,
45 Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest!
Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Disburs'd I to his highness' soldiers:
The other part reserv'd1 by consent;
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt,
Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw 50 Upon remainder of a dear account,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except:
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength, 55 Neglected my sworn duty in that case.
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop;
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
Since last I went to France, to fetch his queen:
Disclaiming here the kindred of a king;
Now swallow down that lie. - For Gloster's
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
I slew him not; but, to mine own disgrace,
By that, and all the rights of kr
What I have spoke, or thou canst worst devise.
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster,
The honourable father to my foe,-
Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul :
Mowb. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, 60 But, ere I last receiv'd the sacrament,
Whichgently lay'd my knighthood on my shoulder,
I did confess it; and exactly begg'd
I'll answer thee in any fair degree,
Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it.
Gaunt. Tobe a make-peace shall become my age:
But, since correction lieth in those hands,
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. 20 Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, thrown down his.
Gaunt. When, Harry? when?
Obedience bids, I should not bid again.
K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there
Mowb. Myself, I throw, dread sovereign, at thy
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:
The one, my duty owes; but my fair name,
(Despight of death, that lives upon my grave)
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.
I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here;
Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear;
The which no balm can cure, but his heart's blood
Which breath'd this poison.
K. Rich. Rage must be withstood:
Give me his gage:-lions make leopards tame.
Mowb. Yea, but not change their spots: take
but my shame,
And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is-spotless reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest
Is-a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;
Take honour from me, and my life is done :
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
In that I live, and for that will I die.
K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do
Boling. Oh, heaven defend my soul from such
foul sin!
Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight?
Or with pale beggar face impeach my height
Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my tongue
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong,
Or sound so base a
teeth shall tear
The slavish motive of recanting fear;
And spit it bleeding, in his high disgrace,
Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
Dutch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven phials of his sacred blood,
Or seven fair branches, springing from one root:
Some of those seven are dry'd by nature's course,
Some of those branches by the destinies cut.
30 But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster,
One phial full of Edward's sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,-
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
35 By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that
womb,
That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee,
Made him a man; and though thou liv'st, and
breath'st,
Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
45 Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'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,
50 Is pale coll 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
55 His deputy anointed in his sight,
Hathcaus'd his death: the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
An angry arım against his minister.
Dutch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself
Where shanie doth harbour, even in Mowbray's 60 Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and
1i. e. no advantage in delay or refusal.
Baffled, in this, as has been noted in a former place, i. e. with a face of supplication.
means, treated with the greatest ignominy imaginable.
my relation of consanguinity to Gloster.
Dutch. Why then, I will. Farewel, old Gaunt! | And by the grace of God, and this mine arm,
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 sins so heavy in his bosom,
That they may break his foaming courser's back,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford!
Farewel, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother's wife
With her companion grief must end her life.
To prove him, in defending of myself.
A traitor to my God, my king, aud me:
And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
5 Trumpets sound. Enter Bolingbroke, appellant,
K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,
Both who he is, and why he cometh hither
Thus plated in habiliments of war;
10 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,
Gaunt. Sister, farewel: I must to Coventry: As much good stay with thee, as go with me! Before king Richard, in his royal lists? [To Boling. Dutch. Yet one word more;-Grief boundeth 15 Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?
Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
I take my leave before I have began;
For sorrow 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 sorrow, that dwells every where:
Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die,
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
[Exeunt.
SCENE III.
The Lists at Coventry.
Speak ake a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
Boling: Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and
Derby,
Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,
20 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 fight,
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
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,
35 And loving farewel, of our several friends.
Enter the Lord Marshal and Aumerle.
Mar. My lord Aumerle, isHarry 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. 40
Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd,
and stay
Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness, [To K. Rich. And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave. K.Rich. We will descend and fold him in our
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause 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.
For nothing but his majesty's approach. [Flourish.
The trumpets sound, and the King enters with
Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, and others: when they are 45 Boling. Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear
set, enter the Duke of Norfolk in armour.
K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear:
As confident, as is the faulcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.-
My loving lord, I take my leave of you;-
50 Of you, my noble cousin, lord Aumerle ;-
Not sick, although I have to do with death;
But lusty, young, and chearly drawing breath.-
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
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
[To Mowbray.
And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms;
Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quar-
Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thy oath, [rel: 55 Oh thou, the earthly author of my blood,-
And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour!
Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of
Who hither come engaged by my oath, [Norfolk;
(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; /
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet:
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,
Doth 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,
Mr. Stecvens observes on this passage, that "waxen may mean either soft, and consequently penetrable, or flexible. The brigandines or coats of mail, then in use, were composed of small pieces of steel quilted over one another, and yet so flexible as to accommodate the dress they form to every motion of the body." And
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