Act 1 — Scene III. The lists at Coventry.

Mar. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?[808] Aum. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in. Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,[809] Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.[810] Aum. Why, then, the champions are prepared and stay5 For nothing but his majesty's approach.

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.10 Mar. In God's name and the king's, say who thou art And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms, Against what man thou comest, and what thy quarrel:[812] Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath;[813] As so defend thee heaven and thy valour![814]15 Mow. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk;[815] Who hither come engaged by my oath—[816] Which God defend a knight should violate!—[817] Both to defend my loyalty and truth To God, my king and my succeeding issue,[818]20 Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me;[819] And, by the grace of God and this mine arm, To prove him, in defending of myself, A traitor to my God, my king, and me: And as I truly fight, defend me heaven![820]25

K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,[821] Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war,[822] And formally, according to our law,[823] Depose him in the justice of his cause.30 Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither, Before King Richard in his royal lists? Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?[824] Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven! Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby[825]35 Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,[826] To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour,[827] In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,[828] That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous,[829] To God of heaven, King Richard and to me;40 And as I truly fight, defend me heaven! Mar. On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,[830] Except the marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs.45 Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's hand, And bow my knee before his majesty: For Mowbray and myself are like two men That vow a long and weary pilgrimage; Then let us take a ceremonious leave50 And loving farewell of our several friends. Mar. The appellant in all duty greets your highness,[831] 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,[832]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.[833] Boling. O, let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear:[834]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,[835]65 But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.[835][836] Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet[835] The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet:[835][837] O thou, the earthly author of my blood,[838] Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate,70 Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up[839] To reach at victory above my head,[840] 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,[841]75 And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt,[842] Even in the lusty haviour of his son.[843] Gaunt. God in thy good cause make thee prosperous![844] Be swift like lightning in the execution; And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,[845]80 Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:[846] Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.[847] Boling. Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive![848] Mow. However God or fortune cast my lot,[844]85 There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,[849] A loyal, just and upright gentleman: Never did captive with a freer heart[850] Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement.90 More than my dancing soul doth celebrate[851] This feast of battle with mine adversary. Most mighty liege, and my companion peers, Take from my mouth the wish of happy years:[852] As gentle and as jocund as to jest[853]95 Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast. K. Rich. Farewell, my lord: securely I espy Virtue with valour couched in thine eye. Order the trial, marshal, and begin. Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,100 Receive thy lance; and God defend the right![844][854] Boling. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen. Mar. Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.[855] First Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,[856] 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;[857] And dares him to set forward to the fight.[858] Sec. Her. Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,[859]110 On pain to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himself and to approve[860] Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal; Courageously and with a free desire115 Attending but the signal to begin. Mar. Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants.

Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.[862] K. Rich. 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.

Draw near,[864][865] And list what with our council we have done.[865] For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd125 With that dear blood which it hath fostered;[866] And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword;[867] And for we think the eagle-winged pride[868] Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,[868]130 With rival-hating envy, set on you[868][869] To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle[868][870] Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;[868][871] Which so roused up with boisterous untuned drums,[872][873][874] With harsh-resounding trumpets' dreadful bray,[874][875]135 And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,[874][876] Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace,[873][874][877] And make us wade even in our kindred's blood;[874][878] Therefore, we banish you our territories: You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,[879]140 Till twice five summers have enrich'd our fields[880] Shall not regreet our fair dominions,[881] 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;145 And those his golden beams to you here lent[882] Shall point on me and gild my banishment. K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,[883] Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: The sly slow hours shall not determinate[884]150 The dateless limit of thy dear exile;[885] The hopeless word of 'never to return' Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.[886] Mow. 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[887] As to be cast forth in the common air, Have I deserved at your highness' hands. The language I have learn'd these forty years,[888] My native English, now I must forego:160 And now my tongue's use is to me no more Than an unstringed viol or a harp; Or like a cunning instrument cased 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,[889][890] Doubly portcullis'd with my teeth and lips;[889][891] And dull unfeeling barren ignorance[889] Is made my gaoler to attend on me.[889][892] 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,[893] Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath? K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate:[894] After our sentence plaining comes too late.[895]175 Mow. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.[896] K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with thee.[897] Lay on our royal sword your banish'd hands; Swear by the duty that you owe to God—[898][899]180 Our part therein we banish with yourselves— To keep the oath that we administer: You never shall, so help you truth and God![899][900] Embrace each other's love in banishment; Nor never look upon each other's face;[901]185 Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile[901][902] This louring tempest of your home-bred hate;[903] Nor never by advised purpose meet[901] To plot, contrive, or complot any ill[904] 'Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.190 Boling. I swear.[905] Mow. And I, to keep all this.[906] Boling. Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:—[907] By this time, had the king permitted us, One of our souls had wander'd 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;[908] Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burthen of a guilty soul.200 Mow. 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;[899] And all too soon, I fear, the king shall rue.205 Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray;[909] Save back to England, all the world's my way.[909][910] [Exit. K. Rich. Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes[911] I see thy grieved heart: thy sad aspect Hath from the number of his banish'd years210 Pluck'd four away. [To Boling.] Six frozen winters spent,[912] Return with welcome home from banishment. Boling. 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.[913]215 Gaunt. I thank my liege, that in regard of me[914] 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[915] Can change their moons and bring their times about,[916]220 My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age and endless night;[917] My inch of taper will be burnt and done,[918] And blindfold death not let me see my son. K. Rich. 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,[919] 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. K. Rich. Thy son is banish'd upon good advice,[920] Whereto thy tongue a party-verdict gave:[921] Why at our justice seem'st thou then to lour?[922]235 Gaunt. Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.[923] You urged me as a judge; but I had rather[924] You would have bid me argue like a father. O, had it been a stranger, not my child,[925][926] To smooth his fault I should have been more mild:[925][927]240 A partial slander sought I to avoid,[925][928] And in the sentence my own life destroy'd.[925] 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 tongue245 Against my will to do myself this wrong. K. Rich. Cousin, farewell; and, uncle, bid him so: Six years we banish him, and he shall go.

Aum. Cousin, farewell: what presence must not know,[930] From where you do remain let paper show.250 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 words, That thou return'st no greeting to thy friends?[931] Boling. 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. Boling. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. Gaunt. What is six winters? they are quickly gone.260 Boling. To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.[932] Gaunt. Call it a travel that thou takest for pleasure. Boling. My heart will sigh when I miscall it so, Which finds it an inforced pilgrimage. Gaunt. The sullen passage of thy weary steps265 Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set[933] The precious jewel of thy home return. Boling. Nay, rather, every tedious stride I make[934][935] Will but remember me what a deal of world[934][935][936] I wander from the jewels that I love.[934][935]270 Must I not serve a long apprenticehood[934][935] To foreign passages, and in the end,[934][935] Having my freedom, boast of nothing else[934][935] But that I was a journeyman to grief?[934][935] Gaunt. All places that the eye of heaven visits[934]275 Are to a wise man ports and happy havens.[934][937] Teach thy necessity to reason thus;[934] There is no virtue like necessity.[934] Think not the king did banish thee,[934][938][939] But thou the king. Woe doth the heavier sit,[934][938][940]280 Where it perceives it is but faintly borne.[934][938] Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honour[934] And not the king exiled thee; or suppose[934] Devouring pestilence hangs in our air[934] And thou art flying to a fresher clime:[934]285 Look, what thy soul holds dear, imagine it[934] To lie that way thou go'st, not whence thou comest:[934] Suppose the singing birds musicians,[934] The grass whereon thou tread'st the presence strew'd,[934][941] The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more[934]290 Than a delightful measure or a dance;[934] For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite[934][942] The man that mocks at it and sets it light.[934][942] Boling. O, who can hold a fire in his hand[943] By thinking on the frosty Caucasus?295 Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow[944] By thinking on fastastic summer's heat? O, no! the apprehension of the good300 Gives but the greater feeling to the worse:[945] Fell sorrow's tooth doth never rankle more[946] Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore.[947] Gaunt. Come, come, my son, I'll bring thee on thy way: Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.305 Boling. Then, England's ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu; My mother, and my nurse, that bears me yet![948] Where'er I wander, boast of this I can, Though banish'd, yet a trueborn Englishman. [Exeunt.[949]