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Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
At Coventry, upon saint Lambert's day;
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate;
Since we cannot atone you, we shall see
Justice design the victor's chivalry.
Marshal, command our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home - alarms.

[Exeunt.

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SCENE II.

The same. A Room in the Duke of Lancas

ter's Palace

Enter GAUNT, and Duchess of Gloster.

Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims, To stir against the butchers of his life. But since correction lieth in those hands, Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven; Who when he sees the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads. Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?

Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one, Were as seven phials of his sacred blood,

Or seven fair branches, springing from one root: Some of those seven are dried by nature's

course,

Some of those branches by the destinies cut: But Thomas, my dear Lord, my life, Gloster,

my

One phial full of Edward's sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,—
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt;
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all
faded,

By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that
womb,

That mettle, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee, Made him a man; and though thou liv'st, and breath'st,

Yet art thou slain in him: thou dost consent
In some large measure to thy father's death
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.

d

Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou show'st the naked pathway, to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in mean men we entitle - patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is to 'venge my Gloster's death.
Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's
substitute,

His deputy anointed in his sight,

Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully, Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift

An angry arm against his minister.

Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain my

self?

Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence.

Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight:
O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear,
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!
O, if misfortune miss the first career,

Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,
That they may break his foaming courser's back,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford!
Farewell, old Gaunt; thy sometimes brother's
wife,

With her companion grief must end her life.

Gaunt. Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry: As much good stay with thee, as go with me! Duch. Yet one word more; Grief houndeth where it falls,

Not with the empty hollowness, but weight:
I take my leave before I have begun;
For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done.
Commend me to my brother, Edmünd York.
Lo, this is all: Nay, yet depart not so;
Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
I shall remember more. Bid him-0, what?~
With all good speed at Plashy visit me.

Alack, and what shall good old York there see,
But empty lodgings, and unfurnish'd walls.
Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?

And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans?

Therefore commend me; let him not come there,
To seek out sorrow that dwells every where;
Desolate, desolate, will I hence, and die :
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.

[Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Gosford-Green near Coventry.

Lists set out, and a throne. Heralds etc. attending. Enter the Lord Marshall, and AUMERLE.

Mar. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford

arm'd?

Aum. Yea, at all points! and longs to en

ter in.

Nar. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and

bold,

Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.

Aum. Why then, the champion's are prepar'd, and stay

For nothing but his Majesty's approach.

Flourish of trumpets. Enter King RICHARD, who taker his seat on his throne; GAUNT, and several noblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter NORFOLK in armour, preceded by a Herald.

K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder cham¬ pion

The cause of his arrival here in arms:
Ask him his name; and orderly proceed
To swear him in the justice of his cause.

Mar. In God's name, and the King's, say

who thou art,

And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in

arms:

Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel :

Speak truly, on the knighthood, and thy oath; And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk; }

Who hither come engaged by my oath, (Which, heaven defend, a knight should violate!)

Both to defend my loyalty and truth,

To God, my King, and my succeeding issue,
Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me;
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!

[He takes his seat.

Trumpet sounds. Enter BOLINGBROKE, in armour; preceded by a Herald.

K. Rich., Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms, Both who he is, and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war; And formally according to our law

Depose him in the justice of his cause.

Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st thou hither,

Before King Richard, in his royal lists? Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?

Speak like a true knight, so defend thee hea

ven!

Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster,

Derby,

Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,

and

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