King Richard II | Page 6

never lift An angry arm against his minister.
DUCHESS. Where then, alas! may I complain myself?
GAUNT. To God, the widow's champion and defence.
DUCHESS. 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. Or, 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!
DUCHESS. Yet one word more. Grief boundeth 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 thy brother, Edmund 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--ah, 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 hear 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. Open Space, near Coventry. Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, &c., attending.
[Enter the Lord Marshal and AUMERLE.]
MARSHAL. My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd?
AUMERLE. Yea, at all points; and longs to enter in.
MARSHAL. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appelant's trumpet.
AUMERLE. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his Majesty's approach.
[Enter KING RICHARD, who takes his seat on his Throne; GAUNT, BUSHY, BAGOT, GREEN, and Others, who take their places. A trumpet is sounded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter MOWBRAY, in armour, defendant, preceeded by a Herald.]
KING RICHARD. 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.
MARSHAL. 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. Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thy oath; As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!
MOWBRAY. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither come engaged by my oath,-- Which God 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, appellant, in armour, preceeded by a Herald.]
KING RICHARD. 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.
MARSHAL. 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 heaven!
BOLINGBROKE. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, To prove by God's grace and my body's valour, In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he's a traitor foul and dangerous, To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me: And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
MARSHAL. On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, Except the Marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs.
BOLINGBROKE. 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 leave And loving farewell of our several friends.
MARSHAL. The appellant in all duty greets your highness, And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.
KING RICHARD. [Descends from his throne.] We will descend and fold him in our arms. Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, 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