Unpeopled offices, untrodden ftones? And what hear there for welcome, but my groans? [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The lifts at Coventry. Enter the Lord Marshal, and the Duke of Aumerle. Mar. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in. Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, fprightfully and bold, Stays but the fummons of the appellant's trumpet. Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his Majesty's approach. [Flourish. The trumpets found, and the King enters with his Nobles: when they are fet, enter the Duke of Norfolk in arms, defendant. K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms; Afk him his name, and orderly proceed To swear him in the juftice of his cause. Mar. In God's name and the King's, fay who thou art? [To Mowb. And why thou com'ft thus knightly clad in arms? Againft what man thou com'ft, and what thy quarrel? Speak truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath, And fo defend thee Heav'n, and thy valour! Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Nor- A traitor to my God, my King, and me; The trumpets found. Enter Bolingbroke, appellant, in armour. K. Rich. Marfhal, ask yonder knight in arms, [hither, Mar. What is thy name, and wherefore com'ft thou Before King Richard, in his Royal lifts? [To Boling. Against whom com'ft thou? and what's thy quarrel? Speak like a true knight, fo defend thee Heav'n! Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancafter, and Derbys To God of heav'n, King Richard, and to me; Mar. On pain of death, no person be fo bold, Boling. Lord Marfhal, let me kifs my Sovereign's And bow my knee before his Majefty: [hand, Mar. The' appellant in all duty greets your Highnefs, [To K. Rich. Boling. Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear, Of Of you, my noble coufin, Lord Aumerle. * Oh thou! the earthly author of my blood, [To Gaunt. Whofe youthful fpirit, in me regenerate, Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; Gaunt. Heav'n in thy good cause make thee profpe Be fwift like lightning in the execution; [rous ! Rouse up thy youthful blood, be brave and live. Caft off his chains of bondage, and embrace Go I to fight: Truth hath a quiet breast. Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance; and Heav'n defend thy right! Boling. Strong as a tower in hope, I cry, Amen. Mar. Go bear this lance to Thomas Duke of Norfolk. Lord Aumerle. Not fick, although I have to do with death; But lufty, young, and chearly drawing breath.- 1 Her. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby, Stands here for God, his fovereign and himself, On pain to be found falfe and recreant, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, [Norfolk, 2 Her. Here ftandeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of On pain to be found falfe and recreant, Both to defend himself, and to approve Henry of Hereford, Lancafter, and Derby, To God, his Sovereign, and to him, difloyal; Courageoufly, and with a free defire, Attending but the fignal to begin. [A charge founded. Mar. Sound, trumpets; and fet forward, combatants, -But stay, the King hath thrown his warder down. K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets and their And both return back to their chairs again: [fpears, Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets found, While we return thefe Dukes what we decree. Draw near; [A long flourish; after which the King Speaks to the combatants. And lift, what with our council we have done. Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour fwords; To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle *The five lines inclofed within crotchets, were inferted, from the first edition in 1598, by Mr. Pope: but inadvertently; for they were afterwards omitted by Shakespear, as not agreeing to the reft of the context; which, on revife, he thought fit to alter. Mr. Warburton. Therefore Therefore we banish you our territories. You, coufin Hereford, on pain of death, Till twice five fummers have enrich'd our fields, But tread the stranger paths of banishment. Boling. Your will be done: this muit my comfort be, That fun that warms you here, fhall fhine on me; And those his golden beams to you here lent, Shall point on me, and gild my banishment. K. Rich. Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Which I with fome unwillingness pronounce. The fly-flow hours fhall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile: The hopeless word, of never to return, Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life. Mowb. A heavy fentence, my moft fovereign Liege, As to be caft forth in the common air, "And now my tongue's ufe is to me no more, "That knows no touch to tune the harmony. * What is thy fentence, then, but speechlefs death, Mowb. Then thus I turn me from my country's light, To dwell in folemn fhades of endless night. K. Rich. Return again, and take an oath with ye. the harmony. Within my mouth you have engaol'd my tongue; Doubly port-cullis'd with my teeth and lips; And dull, unfeeling, barren Ignorance I am too old, &c. Lay |