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1. Act I, Scene 1
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0
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London. KING RICHARD II’s palace.
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1
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[Enter KING RICHARD II, JOHN OF GAUNT, with other] [p]Nobles and Attendants]
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2
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King Richard II.
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3
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Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,
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Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
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5
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Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son,
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Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,
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7
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Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
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8
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Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
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John of Gaunt.
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10
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I have, my liege.
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11
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King Richard II.
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12
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Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,
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13
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If he appeal the duke on ancient malice;
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14
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Or worthily, as a good subject should,
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On some known ground of treachery in him?
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John of Gaunt.
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As near as I could sift him on that argument,
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On some apparent danger seen in him
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Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.
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King Richard II.
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Then call them to our presence; face to face,
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And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
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The accuser and the accused freely speak:
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High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
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In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
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[Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE and THOMAS MOWBRAY]
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27
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Henry IV.
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Many years of happy days befal
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My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!
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30
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Thomas Mowbray.
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31
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Each day still better other's happiness;
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32
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Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
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33
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Add an immortal title to your crown!
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34
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King Richard II.
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35
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We thank you both: yet one but flatters us,
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36
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As well appeareth by the cause you come;
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37
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Namely to appeal each other of high treason.
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38
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Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object
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39
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Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?
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Henry IV.
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41
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First, heaven be the record to my speech!
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42
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In the devotion of a subject's love,
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Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
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And free from other misbegotten hate,
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Come I appellant to this princely presence.
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Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,
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47
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And mark my greeting well; for what I speak
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48
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My body shall make good upon this earth,
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49
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Or my divine soul answer it in heaven.
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50
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Thou art a traitor and a miscreant,
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51
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Too good to be so and too bad to live,
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52
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Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
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53
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The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
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54
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Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
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55
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With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;
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56
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And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move,
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57
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What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove.
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58
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Thomas Mowbray.
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59
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Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal:
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60
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'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
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61
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The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
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Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain;
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63
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The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this:
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64
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Yet can I not of such tame patience boast
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65
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As to be hush'd and nought at all to say:
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66
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First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
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67
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From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
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68
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Which else would post until it had return'd
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69
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These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
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70
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Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
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71
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And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
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72
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I do defy him, and I spit at him;
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73
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Call him a slanderous coward and a villain:
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74
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Which to maintain I would allow him odds,
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75
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And meet him, were I tied to run afoot
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76
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Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
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77
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Or any other ground inhabitable,
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78
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Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
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79
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Mean time let this defend my loyalty,
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80
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By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
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81
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Henry IV.
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82
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Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,
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83
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Disclaiming here the kindred of the king,
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84
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And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
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85
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Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.
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86
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If guilty dread have left thee so much strength
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87
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As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop:
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88
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By that and all the rites of knighthood else,
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89
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Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
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90
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What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise.
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91
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Thomas Mowbray.
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92
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I take it up; and by that sword I swear
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93
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Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
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94
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I'll answer thee in any fair degree,
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95
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Or chivalrous design of knightly trial:
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96
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And when I mount, alive may I not light,
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97
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If I be traitor or unjustly fight!
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98
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King Richard II.
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99
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What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge?
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100
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It must be great that can inherit us
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101
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So much as of a thought of ill in him.
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102
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Henry IV.
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103
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Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it true;
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104
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That Mowbray hath received eight thousand nobles
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105
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In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers,
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106
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The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
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107
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Like a false traitor and injurious villain.
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108
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Besides I say and will in battle prove,
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109
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Or here or elsewhere to the furthest verge
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110
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That ever was survey'd by English eye,
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111
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That all the treasons for these eighteen years
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112
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Complotted and contrived in this land
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113
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Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
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114
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Further I say and further will maintain
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115
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Upon his bad life to make all this good,
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116
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That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death,
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117
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Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,
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118
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And consequently, like a traitor coward,
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Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood:
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120
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Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,
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121
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Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,
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122
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To me for justice and rough chastisement;
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123
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And, by the glorious worth of my descent,
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124
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This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.
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125
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King Richard II.
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126
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How high a pitch his resolution soars!
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127
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Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
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128
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Thomas Mowbray.
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129
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O, let my sovereign turn away his face
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130
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And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
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Till I have told this slander of his blood,
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132
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How God and good men hate so foul a liar.
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133
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King Richard II.
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134
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Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears:
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135
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Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,
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136
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As he is but my father's brother's son,
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137
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Now, by my sceptre's awe, I make a vow,
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138
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Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
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139
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Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
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140
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The unstooping firmness of my upright soul:
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141
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He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou:
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142
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Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.
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143
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Thomas Mowbray.
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144
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Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
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Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.
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146
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Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais
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147
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Disbursed I duly to his highness' soldiers;
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148
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The other part reserved I by consent,
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149
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For that my sovereign liege was in my debt
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150
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Upon remainder of a dear account,
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151
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Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:
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Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death,
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153
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I slew him not; but to my own disgrace
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154
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Neglected my sworn duty in that case.
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155
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For you, my noble Lord of Lancaster,
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156
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The honourable father to my foe
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157
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Once did I lay an ambush for your life,
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158
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A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul
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159
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But ere I last received the sacrament
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I did confess it, and exactly begg'd
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Your grace's pardon, and I hope I had it.
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162
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This is my fault: as for the rest appeall'd,
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It issues from the rancour of a villain,
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164
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A recreant and most degenerate traitor
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Which in myself I boldly will defend;
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And interchangeably hurl down my gage
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Upon this overweening traitor's foot,
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168
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To prove myself a loyal gentleman
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169
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Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom.
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170
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In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
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171
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Your highness to assign our trial day.
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172
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King Richard II.
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173
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Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me;
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174
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Let's purge this choler without letting blood:
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175
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This we prescribe, though no physician;
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Deep malice makes too deep incision;
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177
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Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed;
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178
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Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.
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Good uncle, let this end where it begun;
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180
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We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.
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John of Gaunt.
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182
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To be a make-peace shall become my age:
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183
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Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.
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King Richard II.
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185
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And, Norfolk, throw down his.
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186
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John of Gaunt.
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187
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When, Harry, when?
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188
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Obedience bids I should not bid again.
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189
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King Richard II.
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190
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Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot.
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191
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Thomas Mowbray.
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192
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Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot.
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193
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My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:
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194
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The one my duty owes; but my fair name,
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195
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Despite of death that lives upon my grave,
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196
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To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.
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197
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I am disgraced, impeach'd and baffled here,
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Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear,
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199
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The which no balm can cure but his heart-blood
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200
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Which breathed this poison.
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201
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King Richard II.
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202
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Rage must be withstood:
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203
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Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame.
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204
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Thomas Mowbray.
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205
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Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame.
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206
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And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
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207
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The purest treasure mortal times afford
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208
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Is spotless reputation: that away,
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209
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Men are but gilded loam or painted clay.
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A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up chest
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Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
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212
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Mine honour is my life; both grow in one:
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213
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Take honour from me, and my life is done:
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214
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Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
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215
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In that I live and for that will I die.
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216
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King Richard II.
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217
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Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin.
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218
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Henry IV.
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219
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O, God defend my soul from such deep sin!
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220
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Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight?
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221
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Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
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222
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Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue
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223
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Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong,
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224
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Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear
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225
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The slavish motive of recanting fear,
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226
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And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
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227
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Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face.
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228
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[Exit JOHN OF GAUNT]
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229
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King Richard II.
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230
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We were not born to sue, but to command;
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231
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Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
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232
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Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
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233
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At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day:
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234
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There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
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235
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The swelling difference of your settled hate:
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236
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Since we can not atone you, we shall see
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237
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Justice design the victor's chivalry.
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238
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Lord marshal, command our officers at arms
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239
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Be ready to direct these home alarms.
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240
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[Exeunt]
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2. Act I, Scene 2
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0
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The DUKE OF LANCASTER’S palace.
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1
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[Enter JOHN OF GAUNT with DUCHESS]
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2
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John of Gaunt.
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3
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Alas, the part I had in Woodstock's blood
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4
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Doth more solicit me than your exclaims,
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5
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To stir against the butchers of his life!
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6
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But since correction lieth in those hands
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7
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Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
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8
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Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
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9
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Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,
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10
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Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
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11
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Duchess of Gloucester.
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12
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Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
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13
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Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
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14
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Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
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15
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Were as seven vials of his sacred blood,
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16
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Or seven fair branches springing from one root:
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Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
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18
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Some of those branches by the Destinies cut;
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19
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But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester,
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One vial full of Edward's sacred blood,
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21
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One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
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22
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Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt,
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23
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Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
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24
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By envy's hand and murder's bloody axe.
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25
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Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! that bed, that womb,
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26
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That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee
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27
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Made him a man; and though thou livest and breathest,
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28
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Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
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29
|
|
|
In some large measure to thy father's death,
|
|
30
|
|
|
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
|
|
31
|
|
|
Who was the model of thy father's life.
|
|
32
|
|
|
Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:
|
|
33
|
|
|
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
|
|
34
|
|
|
Thou showest the naked pathway to thy life,
|
|
35
|
|
|
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
|
|
36
|
|
|
That which in mean men we intitle patience
|
|
37
|
|
|
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
|
|
38
|
|
|
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
|
|
39
|
|
|
The best way is to venge my Gloucester's death.
|
|
40
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
41
|
|
|
God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute,
|
|
42
|
|
|
His deputy anointed in His sight,
|
|
43
|
|
|
Hath caused his death: the which if wrongfully,
|
|
44
|
|
|
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift
|
|
45
|
|
|
An angry arm against His minister.
|
|
46
|
|
|
Duchess of Gloucester.
|
|
47
|
|
|
Where then, alas, may I complain myself?
|
|
48
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
49
|
|
|
To God, the widow's champion and defence.
|
|
50
|
|
|
Duchess of Gloucester.
|
|
51
|
|
|
Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
|
|
52
|
|
|
Thou goest to Coventry, there to behold
|
|
53
|
|
|
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight:
|
|
54
|
|
|
O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,
|
|
55
|
|
|
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!
|
|
56
|
|
|
Or, if misfortune miss the first career,
|
|
57
|
|
|
Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,
|
|
58
|
|
|
They may break his foaming courser's back,
|
|
59
|
|
|
And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
|
|
60
|
|
|
A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford!
|
|
61
|
|
|
Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes brother's wife
|
|
62
|
|
|
With her companion grief must end her life.
|
|
63
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
64
|
|
|
Sister, farewell; I must to Coventry:
|
|
65
|
|
|
As much good stay with thee as go with me!
|
|
66
|
|
|
Duchess of Gloucester.
|
|
67
|
|
|
Yet one word more: grief boundeth where it falls,
|
|
68
|
|
|
Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
|
|
69
|
|
|
I take my leave before I have begun,
|
|
70
|
|
|
For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.
|
|
71
|
|
|
Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York.
|
|
72
|
|
|
Lo, this is all:—nay, yet depart not so;
|
|
73
|
|
|
Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
|
|
74
|
|
|
I shall remember more. Bid him—ah, what?—
|
|
75
|
|
|
With all good speed at Plashy visit me.
|
|
76
|
|
|
Alack, and what shall good old York there see
|
|
77
|
|
|
But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
|
|
78
|
|
|
Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?
|
|
79
|
|
|
And what hear there for welcome but my groans?
|
|
80
|
|
|
Therefore commend me; let him not come there,
|
|
81
|
|
|
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where.
|
|
82
|
|
|
Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die:
|
|
83
|
|
|
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
|
| |
|
84
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
| |
| |
|
3. Act I, Scene 3
|
|
0
|
|
|
The lists at Coventry.
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
[Enter the Lord Marshal and the DUKE OF AUMERLE]
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
3
|
|
|
My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?
|
|
4
|
|
|
Duke of Aumerle.
|
|
5
|
|
|
Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.
|
|
6
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
7
|
|
|
The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
|
|
8
|
|
|
Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.
|
|
9
|
|
|
Duke of Aumerle.
|
|
10
|
|
|
Why, then, the champions are prepared, and stay
|
|
11
|
|
|
For nothing but his majesty's approach.
|
|
12
|
|
|
[The trumpets sound, and KING RICHARD enters with]
|
|
13
|
|
|
his nobles, JOHN OF GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and
|
|
14
|
|
|
others. When they are set, enter THOMAS MOWBRAY in
|
|
15
|
|
|
arms, defendant, with a Herald]
|
|
16
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
17
|
|
|
Marshal, demand of yonder champion
|
|
18
|
|
|
The cause of his arrival here in arms:
|
|
19
|
|
|
Ask him his name and orderly proceed
|
|
20
|
|
|
To swear him in the justice of his cause.
|
|
21
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
22
|
|
|
In God's name and the king's, say who thou art
|
|
23
|
|
|
And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms,
|
|
24
|
|
|
Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarrel:
|
|
25
|
|
|
Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath;
|
|
26
|
|
|
As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!
|
|
27
|
|
|
Thomas Mowbray.
|
|
28
|
|
|
My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk;
|
|
29
|
|
|
Who hither come engaged by my oath—
|
|
30
|
|
|
Which God defend a knight should violate!—
|
|
31
|
|
|
Both to defend my loyalty and truth
|
|
32
|
|
|
To God, my king and my succeeding issue,
|
|
33
|
|
|
Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me
|
|
34
|
|
|
And, by the grace of God and this mine arm,
|
|
35
|
|
|
To prove him, in defending of myself,
|
|
36
|
|
|
A traitor to my God, my king, and me:
|
|
37
|
|
|
And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
|
|
38
|
|
|
[The trumpets sound. Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE,]
|
|
39
|
|
|
appellant, in armour, with a Herald]
|
|
40
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
41
|
|
|
Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,
|
|
42
|
|
|
Both who he is and why he cometh hither
|
|
43
|
|
|
Thus plated in habiliments of war,
|
|
44
|
|
|
And formally, according to our law,
|
|
45
|
|
|
Depose him in the justice of his cause.
|
|
46
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
47
|
|
|
What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither,
|
|
48
|
|
|
Before King Richard in his royal lists?
|
|
49
|
|
|
Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?
|
|
50
|
|
|
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
|
|
51
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
52
|
|
|
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby
|
|
53
|
|
|
Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,
|
|
54
|
|
|
To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour,
|
|
55
|
|
|
In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
|
|
56
|
|
|
That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous,
|
|
57
|
|
|
To God of heaven, King Richard and to me;
|
|
58
|
|
|
And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
|
|
59
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
60
|
|
|
On pain of death, no person be so bold
|
|
61
|
|
|
Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,
|
|
62
|
|
|
Except the marshal and such officers
|
|
63
|
|
|
Appointed to direct these fair designs.
|
|
64
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
65
|
|
|
Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand,
|
|
66
|
|
|
And bow my knee before his majesty:
|
|
67
|
|
|
For Mowbray and myself are like two men
|
|
68
|
|
|
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
|
|
69
|
|
|
Then let us take a ceremonious leave
|
|
70
|
|
|
And loving farewell of our several friends.
|
|
71
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
72
|
|
|
The appellant in all duty greets your highness,
|
|
73
|
|
|
And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.
|
|
74
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
75
|
|
|
We will descend and fold him in our arms.
|
|
76
|
|
|
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,
|
|
77
|
|
|
So be thy fortune in this royal fight!
|
|
78
|
|
|
Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed,
|
|
79
|
|
|
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
|
|
80
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
81
|
|
|
O let no noble eye profane a tear
|
|
82
|
|
|
For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear:
|
|
83
|
|
|
As confident as is the falcon's flight
|
|
84
|
|
|
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
|
|
85
|
|
|
My loving lord, I take my leave of you;
|
|
86
|
|
|
Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;
|
|
87
|
|
|
Not sick, although I have to do with death,
|
|
88
|
|
|
But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
|
|
89
|
|
|
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
|
|
90
|
|
|
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet:
|
|
91
|
|
|
O thou, the earthly author of my blood,
|
|
92
|
|
|
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,
|
|
93
|
|
|
Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up
|
|
94
|
|
|
To reach at victory above my head,
|
|
95
|
|
|
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers;
|
|
96
|
|
|
And with thy blessings steel my lance's point,
|
|
97
|
|
|
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat,
|
|
98
|
|
|
And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt,
|
|
99
|
|
|
Even in the lusty havior of his son.
|
|
100
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
101
|
|
|
God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!
|
|
102
|
|
|
Be swift like lightning in the execution;
|
|
103
|
|
|
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
|
|
104
|
|
|
Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
|
|
105
|
|
|
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:
|
|
106
|
|
|
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
|
|
107
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
108
|
|
|
Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive!
|
|
109
|
|
|
Thomas Mowbray.
|
|
110
|
|
|
However God or fortune cast my lot,
|
|
111
|
|
|
There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
|
|
112
|
|
|
A loyal, just and upright gentleman:
|
|
113
|
|
|
Never did captive with a freer heart
|
|
114
|
|
|
Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
|
|
115
|
|
|
His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,
|
|
116
|
|
|
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
|
|
117
|
|
|
This feast of battle with mine adversary.
|
|
118
|
|
|
Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
|
|
119
|
|
|
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years:
|
|
120
|
|
|
As gentle and as jocund as to jest
|
|
121
|
|
|
Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast.
|
|
122
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
123
|
|
|
Farewell, my lord: securely I espy
|
|
124
|
|
|
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
|
|
125
|
|
|
Order the trial, marshal, and begin.
|
|
126
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
127
|
|
|
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
|
|
128
|
|
|
Receive thy lance; and God defend the right!
|
|
129
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
130
|
|
|
Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.
|
|
131
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
132
|
|
|
Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.
|
|
133
|
|
|
First Herald.
|
|
134
|
|
|
Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
|
|
135
|
|
|
Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself,
|
|
136
|
|
|
On pain to be found false and recreant,
|
|
137
|
|
|
To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
|
|
138
|
|
|
A traitor to his God, his king and him;
|
|
139
|
|
|
And dares him to set forward to the fight.
|
|
140
|
|
|
Second Herald.
|
|
141
|
|
|
Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
|
|
142
|
|
|
On pain to be found false and recreant,
|
|
143
|
|
|
Both to defend himself and to approve
|
|
144
|
|
|
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
|
|
145
|
|
|
To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal;
|
|
146
|
|
|
Courageously and with a free desire
|
|
147
|
|
|
Attending but the signal to begin.
|
|
148
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
149
|
|
|
Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants.
|
|
150
|
|
|
[A charge sounded]
|
|
151
|
|
|
Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.
|
|
152
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
153
|
|
|
Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
|
|
154
|
|
|
And both return back to their chairs again:
|
|
155
|
|
|
Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound
|
|
156
|
|
|
While we return these dukes what we decree.
|
|
157
|
|
|
[A long flourish]
|
|
158
|
|
|
Draw near,
|
|
159
|
|
|
And list what with our council we have done.
|
|
160
|
|
|
For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
|
|
161
|
|
|
With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
|
|
162
|
|
|
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
|
|
163
|
|
|
Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword;
|
|
164
|
|
|
And for we think the eagle-winged pride
|
|
165
|
|
|
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
|
|
166
|
|
|
With rival-hating envy, set on you
|
|
167
|
|
|
To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle
|
|
168
|
|
|
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;
|
|
169
|
|
|
Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums,
|
|
170
|
|
|
With harsh resounding trumpets' dreadful bray,
|
|
171
|
|
|
And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
|
|
172
|
|
|
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace
|
|
173
|
|
|
And make us wade even in our kindred's blood,
|
|
174
|
|
|
Therefore, we banish you our territories:
|
|
175
|
|
|
You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,
|
|
176
|
|
|
Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields
|
|
177
|
|
|
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
|
|
178
|
|
|
But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
|
|
179
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
180
|
|
|
Your will be done: this must my comfort be,
|
|
181
|
|
|
Sun that warms you here shall shine on me;
|
|
182
|
|
|
And those his golden beams to you here lent
|
|
183
|
|
|
Shall point on me and gild my banishment.
|
|
184
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
185
|
|
|
Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
|
|
186
|
|
|
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce:
|
|
187
|
|
|
The sly slow hours shall not determinate
|
|
188
|
|
|
The dateless limit of thy dear exile;
|
|
189
|
|
|
The hopeless word of 'never to return'
|
|
190
|
|
|
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
|
|
191
|
|
|
Thomas Mowbray.
|
|
192
|
|
|
A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
|
|
193
|
|
|
And all unlook'd for from your highness' mouth:
|
|
194
|
|
|
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
|
|
195
|
|
|
As to be cast forth in the common air,
|
|
196
|
|
|
Have I deserved at your highness' hands.
|
|
197
|
|
|
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
|
|
198
|
|
|
My native English, now I must forego:
|
|
199
|
|
|
And now my tongue's use is to me no more
|
|
200
|
|
|
Than an unstringed viol or a harp,
|
|
201
|
|
|
Or like a cunning instrument cased up,
|
|
202
|
|
|
Or, being open, put into his hands
|
|
203
|
|
|
That knows no touch to tune the harmony:
|
|
204
|
|
|
Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue,
|
|
205
|
|
|
Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;
|
|
206
|
|
|
And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
|
|
207
|
|
|
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
|
|
208
|
|
|
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
|
|
209
|
|
|
Too far in years to be a pupil now:
|
|
210
|
|
|
What is thy sentence then but speechless death,
|
|
211
|
|
|
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
|
|
212
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
213
|
|
|
It boots thee not to be compassionate:
|
|
214
|
|
|
After our sentence plaining comes too late.
|
|
215
|
|
|
Thomas Mowbray.
|
|
216
|
|
|
Then thus I turn me from my country's light,
|
|
217
|
|
|
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
|
|
218
|
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King Richard II.
|
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219
|
|
|
Return again, and take an oath with thee.
|
|
220
|
|
|
Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands;
|
|
221
|
|
|
Swear by the duty that you owe to God—
|
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222
|
|
|
Our part therein we banish with yourselves—
|
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223
|
|
|
To keep the oath that we administer:
|
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224
|
|
|
You never shall, so help you truth and God!
|
|
225
|
|
|
Embrace each other's love in banishment;
|
|
226
|
|
|
Nor never look upon each other's face;
|
|
227
|
|
|
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
|
|
228
|
|
|
This louring tempest of your home-bred hate;
|
|
229
|
|
|
Nor never by advised purpose meet
|
|
230
|
|
|
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill
|
|
231
|
|
|
'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
|
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232
|
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|
Henry IV.
|
|
233
|
|
|
I swear.
|
|
234
|
|
|
Thomas Mowbray.
|
|
235
|
|
|
And I, to keep all this.
|
|
236
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
237
|
|
|
Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:—
|
|
238
|
|
|
By this time, had the king permitted us,
|
|
239
|
|
|
One of our souls had wander'd in the air.
|
|
240
|
|
|
Banish'd this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
|
|
241
|
|
|
As now our flesh is banish'd from this land:
|
|
242
|
|
|
Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm;
|
|
243
|
|
|
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
|
|
244
|
|
|
The clogging burthen of a guilty soul.
|
|
245
|
|
|
Thomas Mowbray.
|
|
246
|
|
|
No, Bolingbroke: if ever I were traitor,
|
|
247
|
|
|
My name be blotted from the book of life,
|
|
248
|
|
|
And I from heaven banish'd as from hence!
|
|
249
|
|
|
But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know;
|
|
250
|
|
|
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
|
|
251
|
|
|
Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray;
|
|
252
|
|
|
Save back to England, all the world's my way.
|
| |
|
253
|
|
|
[Exit]
|
| |
|
254
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
255
|
|
|
Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
|
|
256
|
|
|
I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect
|
|
257
|
|
|
Hath from the number of his banish'd years
|
|
258
|
|
|
Pluck'd four away.
|
|
259
|
|
|
[To HENRY BOLINGBROKE]
|
|
260
|
|
|
Six frozen winter spent,
|
|
261
|
|
|
Return with welcome home from banishment.
|
|
262
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
263
|
|
|
How long a time lies in one little word!
|
|
264
|
|
|
Four lagging winters and four wanton springs
|
|
265
|
|
|
End in a word: such is the breath of kings.
|
|
266
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
267
|
|
|
I thank my liege, that in regard of me
|
|
268
|
|
|
He shortens four years of my son's exile:
|
|
269
|
|
|
But little vantage shall I reap thereby;
|
|
270
|
|
|
For, ere the six years that he hath to spend
|
|
271
|
|
|
Can change their moons and bring their times about
|
|
272
|
|
|
My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
|
|
273
|
|
|
Shall be extinct with age and endless night;
|
|
274
|
|
|
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
|
|
275
|
|
|
And blindfold death not let me see my son.
|
|
276
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
277
|
|
|
Why uncle, thou hast many years to live.
|
|
278
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
279
|
|
|
But not a minute, king, that thou canst give:
|
|
280
|
|
|
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
|
|
281
|
|
|
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow;
|
|
282
|
|
|
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
|
|
283
|
|
|
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage;
|
|
284
|
|
|
Thy word is current with him for my death,
|
|
285
|
|
|
But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
|
|
286
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
287
|
|
|
Thy son is banish'd upon good advice,
|
|
288
|
|
|
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave:
|
|
289
|
|
|
Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour?
|
|
290
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
291
|
|
|
Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
|
|
292
|
|
|
You urged me as a judge; but I had rather
|
|
293
|
|
|
You would have bid me argue like a father.
|
|
294
|
|
|
O, had it been a stranger, not my child,
|
|
295
|
|
|
To smooth his fault I should have been more mild:
|
|
296
|
|
|
A partial slander sought I to avoid,
|
|
297
|
|
|
And in the sentence my own life destroy'd.
|
|
298
|
|
|
Alas, I look'd when some of you should say,
|
|
299
|
|
|
I was too strict to make mine own away;
|
|
300
|
|
|
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue
|
|
301
|
|
|
Against my will to do myself this wrong.
|
|
302
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
303
|
|
|
Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so:
|
|
304
|
|
|
Six years we banish him, and he shall go.
|
| |
|
305
|
|
|
[Flourish. Exeunt KING RICHARD II and train]
|
| |
|
306
|
|
|
Duke of Aumerle.
|
|
307
|
|
|
Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,
|
|
308
|
|
|
From where you do remain let paper show.
|
|
309
|
|
|
Lord Marshal.
|
|
310
|
|
|
My lord, no leave take I; for I will ride,
|
|
311
|
|
|
As far as land will let me, by your side.
|
|
312
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
313
|
|
|
O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,
|
|
314
|
|
|
That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?
|
|
315
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
316
|
|
|
I have too few to take my leave of you,
|
|
317
|
|
|
When the tongue's office should be prodigal
|
|
318
|
|
|
To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
|
|
319
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
320
|
|
|
Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
|
|
321
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
322
|
|
|
Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
|
|
323
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
324
|
|
|
What is six winters? they are quickly gone.
|
|
325
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
326
|
|
|
To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.
|
|
327
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
328
|
|
|
Call it a travel that thou takest for pleasure.
|
|
329
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
330
|
|
|
My heart will sigh when I miscall it so,
|
|
331
|
|
|
Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage.
|
|
332
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
333
|
|
|
The sullen passage of thy weary steps
|
|
334
|
|
|
Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set
|
|
335
|
|
|
The precious jewel of thy home return.
|
|
336
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
337
|
|
|
Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make
|
|
338
|
|
|
Will but remember me what a deal of world
|
|
339
|
|
|
I wander from the jewels that I love.
|
|
340
|
|
|
Must I not serve a long apprenticehood
|
|
341
|
|
|
To foreign passages, and in the end,
|
|
342
|
|
|
Having my freedom, boast of nothing else
|
|
343
|
|
|
But that I was a journeyman to grief?
|
|
344
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
345
|
|
|
All places that the eye of heaven visits
|
|
346
|
|
|
Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.
|
|
347
|
|
|
Teach thy necessity to reason thus;
|
|
348
|
|
|
There is no virtue like necessity.
|
|
349
|
|
|
Think not the king did banish thee,
|
|
350
|
|
|
But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit,
|
|
351
|
|
|
Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.
|
|
352
|
|
|
Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour
|
|
353
|
|
|
And not the king exiled thee; or suppose
|
|
354
|
|
|
Devouring pestilence hangs in our air
|
|
355
|
|
|
And thou art flying to a fresher clime:
|
|
356
|
|
|
Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it
|
|
357
|
|
|
To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest:
|
|
358
|
|
|
Suppose the singing birds musicians,
|
|
359
|
|
|
The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd,
|
|
360
|
|
|
The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more
|
|
361
|
|
|
Than a delightful measure or a dance;
|
|
362
|
|
|
For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite
|
|
363
|
|
|
The man that mocks at it and sets it light.
|
|
364
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
365
|
|
|
O, who can hold a fire in his hand
|
|
366
|
|
|
By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?
|
|
367
|
|
|
Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
|
|
368
|
|
|
By bare imagination of a feast?
|
|
369
|
|
|
Or wallow naked in December snow
|
|
370
|
|
|
By thinking on fantastic summer's heat?
|
|
371
|
|
|
O, no! the apprehension of the good
|
|
372
|
|
|
Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:
|
|
373
|
|
|
Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more
|
|
374
|
|
|
Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore.
|
|
375
|
|
|
John of Gaunt.
|
|
376
|
|
|
Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way:
|
|
377
|
|
|
Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.
|
|
378
|
|
|
Henry IV.
|
|
379
|
|
|
Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu;
|
|
380
|
|
|
My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet!
|
|
381
|
|
|
Where'er I wander, boast of this I can,
|
|
382
|
|
|
Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman.
|
| |
|
383
|
|
|
[Exeunt]
|
| |
| |
|
4. Act I, Scene 4
|
|
0
|
|
|
The court.
|
| |
|
1
|
|
|
[Enter KING RICHARD II, with BAGOT and GREEN at one] [p]door; and the DUKE OF AUMERLE at another]
|
| |
|
2
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
3
|
|
|
We did observe. Cousin Aumerle,
|
|
4
|
|
|
How far brought you high Hereford on his way?
|
|
5
|
|
|
Duke of Aumerle.
|
|
6
|
|
|
I brought high Hereford, if you call him so,
|
|
7
|
|
|
But to the next highway, and there I left him.
|
|
8
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
9
|
|
|
And say, what store of parting tears were shed?
|
|
10
|
|
|
Duke of Aumerle.
|
|
11
|
|
|
Faith, none for me; except the north-east wind,
|
|
12
|
|
|
Which then blew bitterly against our faces,
|
|
13
|
|
|
Awaked the sleeping rheum, and so by chance
|
|
14
|
|
|
Did grace our hollow parting with a tear.
|
|
15
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
16
|
|
|
What said our cousin when you parted with him?
|
|
17
|
|
|
Duke of Aumerle.
|
|
18
|
|
|
'Farewell:'
|
|
19
|
|
|
And, for my heart disdained that my tongue
|
|
20
|
|
|
Should so profane the word, that taught me craft
|
|
21
|
|
|
To counterfeit oppression of such grief
|
|
22
|
|
|
That words seem'd buried in my sorrow's grave.
|
|
23
|
|
|
Marry, would the word 'farewell' have lengthen'd hours
|
|
24
|
|
|
And added years to his short banishment,
|
|
25
|
|
|
He should have had a volume of farewells;
|
|
26
|
|
|
But since it would not, he had none of me.
|
|
27
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
28
|
|
|
He is our cousin, cousin; but 'tis doubt,
|
|
29
|
|
|
When time shall call him home from banishment,
|
|
30
|
|
|
Whether our kinsman come to see his friends.
|
|
31
|
|
|
Ourself and Bushy, Bagot here and Green
|
|
32
|
|
|
Observed his courtship to the common people;
|
|
33
|
|
|
How he did seem to dive into their hearts
|
|
34
|
|
|
With humble and familiar courtesy,
|
|
35
|
|
|
What reverence he did throw away on slaves,
|
|
36
|
|
|
Wooing poor craftsmen with the craft of smiles
|
|
37
|
|
|
And patient underbearing of his fortune,
|
|
38
|
|
|
As 'twere to banish their affects with him.
|
|
39
|
|
|
Off goes his bonnet to an oyster-wench;
|
|
40
|
|
|
A brace of draymen bid God speed him well
|
|
41
|
|
|
And had the tribute of his supple knee,
|
|
42
|
|
|
With 'Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends;'
|
|
43
|
|
|
As were our England in reversion his,
|
|
44
|
|
|
And he our subjects' next degree in hope.
|
|
45
|
|
|
Green.
|
|
46
|
|
|
Well, he is gone; and with him go these thoughts.
|
|
47
|
|
|
Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland,
|
|
14
|
|
|
Expedient manage must be made, my liege,
|
|
15
|
|
|
Ere further leisure yield them further means
|
|
16
|
|
|
For their advantage and your highness' loss.
|
|
17
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
18
|
|
|
We will ourself in person to this war:
|
|
19
|
|
|
And, for our coffers, with too great a court
|
|
20
|
|
|
And liberal largess, are grown somewhat light,
|
|
21
|
|
|
We are inforced to farm our royal realm;
|
|
22
|
|
|
The revenue whereof shall furnish us
|
|
23
|
|
|
For our affairs in hand: if that come short,
|
|
24
|
|
|
Our substitutes at home shall have blank charters;
|
|
25
|
|
|
Whereto, when they shall know what men are rich,
|
|
26
|
|
|
They shall subscribe them for large sums of gold
|
|
27
|
|
|
And send them after to supply our wants;
|
|
28
|
|
|
For we will make for Ireland presently.
|
|
29
|
|
|
[Enter BUSHY]
|
|
30
|
|
|
Bushy, what news?
|
|
31
|
|
|
Bushy.
|
|
32
|
|
|
Old John of Gaunt is grievous sick, my lord,
|
|
33
|
|
|
Suddenly taken; and hath sent post haste
|
|
34
|
|
|
To entreat your majesty to visit him.
|
|
35
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
36
|
|
|
Where lies he?
|
|
37
|
|
|
Bushy.
|
|
38
|
|
|
At Ely House.
|
|
39
|
|
|
King Richard II.
|
|
40
|
|
|
Now put it, God, in the physician's mind
|
|
41
|
|
|
To help him to his grave immediately!
|
|
42
|
|
|
The lining of his coffers shall make coats
|
|
43
|
|
|
To deck our soldiers for these Irish wars.
|
|
44
|
|
|
Come, gentlemen, let's all go visit him:
|
|
45
|
|
|
Pray God we may make haste, and come too late!
|
|
46
|
|
|
All.
|
|
47
|
|
|
Amen.
|
| |
