图书图片
PDF
ePub

Unpeopled offices, untrodden ftones?

And what hear there for welcome, but my groans?
Therefore commend me,-let him not come there
To feek out forrow that dwells every where;
All defolate will I from hence, and die;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.

[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-
Who hither come, engaged by my oath, [folk,
(Which heav'n defend a knight fhould violate!)
Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
To God, my King, and my fucceeding iffue,
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 Heav'n!

[blocks in formation]

The trumpets found. Enter Bolingbroke, appellant, in

armour.

K. Rich. Marfhal, 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,
Depofe him in the juftice of his caufe.

[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
Am I, who ready here do ftand in arms,
To prove, by Heav'n's grace and my body's valour,
In lifts, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk,
That he's a traitor foul and dangerous,

To God of heav'n, King Richard, and to me;
And, as I truly fight, defend me Heav'n !

Mar. On pain of death, no person be fo bold,
Or daring hardy, as to touch the lifts,
Except the Marfhal, and fuch officers
Appointed to direct thefe fair defigns.

Boling. Lord Marfhal, let me kifs my Sovereign's

And bow my knee before his Majefty:
For Mowbray and myself are like two men
That vow a long and weary pilgrimage;
Then let us take a ceremonious leave,
And loving farewel, of our feveral friends.

[hand,

Mar. The' appellant in all duty greets your Highnefs,

[ocr errors]

[To K. Rich.
And craves to kifs your hand, and take his leave.
K. Rich. We will defcend, and fold him in our arms.
Coufin of Hereford, as thy caufe is right,
So be thy fortune in this Royal fight!
Farewel, my blood; which if to-day thou fhed,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

Boling. Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear,
For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear:
As confident, as is the faulcon's flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
My loving Lord, I take my leave of you;

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;
And with thy bleffings steel my lance's point,
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat,
And furbish new the name of John o' Gaunt
Ev'n in the lufty 'haviour of his fon.

Gaunt. Heav'n in thy good cause make thee profpe

Be fwift like lightning in the execution;
And let thy blows, doubly redoubled,
Fall like amazing thunder on the cafk
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy.

[rous !

Rouse up thy youthful blood, be brave and live.
Bol. Mine innocence God and St. George to thrive !
Mowb. However Heav'n or Fortune caft my lot,
There lives, or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
A loyal, juft, and upright gentleman.
Never did captive with a freer heart

Caft off his chains of bondage, and embrace
His golden uncontroul'd enfranchisement,
More than my dancing foul doth celebrate
This feast of battle with mine adverfary.
Moft mighty Liege, and my companion Peers,
Take from my mouth the wifh of happy years;
As gentle and as jocund, as to just,

Go I to fight: Truth hath a quiet breast.
K. Rich. Farewel, my Lord; fecurely I efpy
Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
Order the trial, Marfhal, and begin.

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.-
Lo, as at English feafts, fo I
regreet
The daintiest laft, to make the end moft sweet:
Oh thou, &c,

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,
A traitor to his God, his King, and him;
And dares him to fet forward to the fight.

[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.
For that our kingdom's earth fhould not be foil'd
With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect

Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour fwords;
[And for we think, the eagle-winged pride
Of sky-afpiring and ambitious thoughts
With rival-hating Envy fet you on,

To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle
Draws the fweet infant breath of gentle fleep* ;]
Which thus rous'd up with boist'rous untun'd drums,
And harsh refounding trumpets' dreadful bray,
And grating-fhock of wrathful iron arms,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair Peace,
And make us wade even in our kindred's blood:

*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,
Shall not regreet our fair dominions,

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,
And all unlook'd for from your Highnefs' mouth:
A dearer merit, not fo deep a maim,

As to be caft forth in the common air,
Have I deserved at your Highness' hands.
The language I have learn'd these forty years,
My native English, now I must forgo;

"And now my tongue's ufe is to me no more,
"Than an unstringed viol, or a harp;
"Or like a cunning inftrument cas'd up,
"Or being open put into his hands

"That knows no touch to tune the harmony. *
I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
Too far in years to be a pupil now :

What is thy fentence, then, but speechlefs death,
Which robs my tongue from breathing natiye breath?
K. Rich. It boots thee not to be compaffionate;
After our fentence, plaining comes too late.

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
Is made my gaoler to attend on me.

I am too old, &c.

Lay

« 上一页继续 »