King Richard II | Page 6

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. Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:
In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, Thou showest 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 Gloucester's death.
GAUNT. God's is the quarrel; for God'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.
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