The arden shakespeare co.., p.293
The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works, page 293
Cousin of Herford, as thy cause is right,
55
So be thy fortune in this royal fight!
Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
BOLINGBROKE O, let no noble eye profane a tear
For me, if I be gor’d with Mowbray’s spear!
60
As confident as is the falcon’s flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
My loving lord, I take my leave of you;
Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;
Not sick, although I have to do with death,
65
But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
O thou, the earthly author of my blood,
Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate
70
Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,
Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers,
And with thy blessings steel my lance’s point,
That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen coat,
75
And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt,
Even in the lusty haviour of his son.
GAUNT God in thy good cause make thee prosperous,
Be swift like lightning in the execution,
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
80
Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy!
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
BOLINGBROKE
Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!
MOWBRAY However God or Fortune cast my lot,
85
There lives or dies true to King Richard’s throne,
A loyal, just, and upright gentleman.
Never did captive with a freer heart
Cast off his chains of bondage, and embrace
His golden uncontroll’d enfranchisement,
90
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
This feast of battle with mine adversary.
Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years;
As gentle and as jocund as to jest
95
Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast.
RICHARD Farewell, my lord, securely I espy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
Order the trial, Marshal, and begin.
MARSHAL Harry of Herford, Lancaster and Derby,
100
Receive thy lance, and God defend the right!
BOLINGBROKE Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.
MARSHAL
Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.
1 HERALD Harry of Herford, Lancaster and Derby,
Stands here, for God, his sovereign, and himself,
105
On pain to be found false and recreant,
To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
A traitor to his God, his king, and him,
And dares him to set forward to the fight.
2 HERALD
Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
110
On pain to be found false and recreant,
Both to defend himself, and to approve
Henry of Herford, Lancaster and Derby,
To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal,
Courageously, and with a free desire,
115
Attending but the signal to begin.
MARSHAL
Sound trumpets, and set forward, combatants.
[A charge sounded.]
Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.
RICHARD
Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
And both return back to their chairs again.
120
Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound,
While we return these dukes what we decree.
[A long flourish]
Draw near,
And list what with our council we have done.
For that our kingdom’s earth should not be soil’d
125
With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of civil wounds plough’d up with neighbours’ sword,
And for we think the eagle-winged pride
Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
130
With rival-hating envy, set on you
To wake our peace, which in our country’s cradle
Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;
Which so rous’d up with boist’rous untun’d drums,
With harsh-resounding trumpets’ dreadful bray,
135
And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace,
And make us wade even in our kindred’s blood –
Therefore we banish you our territories.
You, cousin Herford, upon pain of life,
140
Till twice five summers have enrich’d our fields,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
But tread the stranger paths or banishment.
BOLINGBROKE
You will be done; this must my comfort be,
That sun that warms you here, shall shine on me,
145
And those his golden beams to you here lent
Shall point on me and gild my banishment.
RICHARD Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
Which I with some unwillingness pronounce.
The sly slow hours shall not determinate
150
The dateless limit of thy dear exile;
The hopeless word of ‘never to return’
Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
MOWBRAY A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
And all unlook’d for from your Highness’ mouth;
155
A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
As to be cast forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your Highness’ hands.
The language I have learnt these forty years,
My native English, now I must forgo,
160
And now my tongue’s use is to me no more
Than an unstringed viol or a harp,
Or like a cunning instrument cas’d up –
Or being open, put into his hands
That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
165
Within my mouth you have engaol’d my tongue,
Doubly portcullis’d with my teeth and lips,
And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
170
Too far in years to be a pupil now:
What is thy sentence then but speechless death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
RICHARD It boots thee not to be compassionate;
After our sentence plaining comes too late.
175
MOWBRAY
Then thus I turn me from my country’s light,
To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
RICHARD Return again, and take an oath with thee.
Lay on our royal sword your banish’d hands,
Swear by the duty that you owe to God –
180
Our part therein we banish with yourselves –
To keep the oath that we administer:
You never shall, so help you truth and God,
Embrace each other’s love in banishment,
Nor never look upon each other’s face,
185
Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
This louring tempest of your home-bred hate,
Nor never by advised purpose meet
To plot, contrive, or complot any ill
’Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
190
BOLINGBROKE I swear.
MOWBRAY And I, to keep all this.
BOLINGBROKE Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:
By this time, had the king permitted us,
One of our souls had wand’red in the air,
195
Banish’d this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
As now our flesh is banish’d from this land –
Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm;
Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
The clogging burthen of a guilty soul.
200
MOWBRAY No, Bolingbroke, if ever I were traitor,
My name be blotted from the book of life,
And I from heaven banish’d as from hence!
But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know,
And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.
205
Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray –
Save back to England all the world’s my way. Exit.
RICHARD Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
I see thy grieved heart. Thy sad aspect
Hath from the number of his banish’d years
210
Pluck’d four away.
[to Bolingbroke] Six frozen winters spent,
Return with welcome home from banishment.
BOLINGBROKE How long a time lies in one little word!
Four lagging winters and four wanton springs
End in a word: such is the breath of kings.
215
GAUNT I thank my liege that in regard of me
He shortens four years of my son’s exile,
But little vantage shall I reap thereby;
For ere the six years that he hath to spend
Can change their moons, and bring their times about,
220
My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
Shall be extinct with age and endless night,
My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
And blindfold Death not let me see my son.
RICHARD Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.
225
GAUNT But not a minute, king, that thou canst give:
Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow,
And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow;
Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage;
230
Thy word is current with him for my death,
But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
RICHARD Thy son is banish’d upon good advice,
Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave:
Why at our justice seem’st thou then to lour?
235
GAUNT Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
You urg’d me as a judge, but I had rather
You would have bid me argue like a father.
O, had it been a stranger, not my child,
To smooth his fault I should have been more mild.
240
A partial slander sought I to avoid,
And in the sentence my own life destroy’d.
Alas, I look’d when some of you should say
I was too strict to make mine own away;
But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue
245
Against my will to do myself this wrong.
RICHARD Cousin, farewell – and uncle, bid him so,
Six years we banish him and he shall go.
Flourish. Exeunt King Richard and train.
AUMERLE Cousin, farewell; what presence must not know,
From where you do remain let paper show.
250
MARSHAL 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 words,
That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends?
BOLINGBROKE I have too few to take my leave of you,
255
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.
BOLINGBROKE Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
GAUNT What is six winters? they are quickly gone –
260
BOLINGBROKE
To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.
GAUNT Call it a travel that thou tak’st for pleasure.
BOLINGBROKE My heart will sigh when I miscall it so,
Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage.
GAUNT The sullen passage of thy weary steps
