Which blood, like sacrificing104 Abel’s, cries
Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth
To me for justice and rough chastisement106.
And by the glorious worth of my descent,
This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.
KING RICHARD How high a pitch109 his resolution soars!
Thomas of Norfolk, what sayest thou to this?
MOWBRAY O, let my sovereign turn away his face
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
Till I have told this slander of113 his blood,
How God and good men hate so foul a liar.
KING RICHARD Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears.
Were he my brother, nay, our kingdom’s heir,
As he is but my father’s brother’s son,
Now, by my sceptre’s awe118, I make a vow,
Such neighbour119 nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize120
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul.
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou.
Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.
MOWBRAY Then, Bullingbrook, as low as to thy heart,
Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest.
Three parts of that receipt126 I had for Calais
Disbursed I duly to his highness’ soldiers;
The other part reserved I by consent,
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt
Upon remainder of a dear account130,
Since last I went to France to fetch131 his queen.
Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester’s death,
I slew him not; but to mine own disgrace
Neglected my sworn duty in that case.
For you, my noble lord of Lancaster135,
The honourable father to my foe,
Once I did lay an ambush for your life —
A trespass138 that doth vex my grievèd soul.
But ere I last received the sacrament
I did confess it, and exactly140 begged
Your grace’s pardon, and I hope I had it.
This is my fault. As for the rest appealed142,
It issues from the rancour of a villain,
A recreant144 and most degenerate traitor
Which145 in myself I boldly will defend,
And interchangeably146 hurl down my gage
Throws down his gage
Upon this overweening147 traitor’s foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman
Even in149 the best blood chambered in his bosom.
In haste whereof150, most heartily I pray
Your highness to assign our trial day.
KING RICHARD Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me:
Let’s purge153 this choler without letting blood.
This we prescribe, though no physician:
Deep malice makes too deep incision.
Forget, forgive, conclude156 and be agreed:
Our doctors157 say this is no time to bleed.
Good uncle, let this end where it begun:
We’ll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son.
GAUNT To be a make-peace shall become160 my age:
Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk’s gage.
KING RICHARD And, Norfolk, throw down his.
GAUNT When, Harry, when?
Obedience bids I should not bid again.
KING RICHARD Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot164.
MOWBRAY Myself I throw, dread165 sovereign, at thy foot.
Kneels
My life thou shalt command, but not my shame:
The one my duty owes, but my fair name167,
Despite of death that lives upon my grave,
To dark dishonour’s use thou shalt not have.
I am disgraced, impeached170 and baffled here,
Pierced to the soul with slander’s venomed spear,
The which no balm172 can cure but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.
KING RICHARD Rage must be withstood.
Give me his gage. Lions make leopards175 tame.
MOWBRAY Yea, but not change his spots176. Take but my shame,
And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation: that away179,
Men are but gilded180 loam or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times-barred-up181 chest
Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one183:
Take honour from me, and my life is done.
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try185.
In that I live and for that will I die.
KING RICHARD Cousin, throw down your gage. Do you begin.
BULLINGBROOK O, heaven defend my soul from such foul sin!
Shall I seem crest-fall’n189 in my father’s sight?
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height190
Before this out-dared191 dastard? Ere my tongue
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong,
Or sound so base a parle193, my teeth shall tear
The slavish motive194 of recanting fear,
And spit it bleeding in his195 high disgrace,
Where shame doth harbour196, even in Mowbray’s face.
Exit Gaunt
KING RICHARD We were not born to sue197, but to command,
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
At Coventry upon Saint Lambert’s day200:
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling202 difference of your settled hate.
Since we cannot atone203 you, we shall see
Justice design204 the victor’s chivalry.
Lord Marshal, command our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home alarms206.
Exeunt
Act 1 Scene 2
running scene 2
Location: unspecified, probably assumed to be Ely House, London
Enter Gaunt and Duchess of Gloucester
GAUNT Alas, the part I had in Gloucester’s blood1
Doth more solicit2 me than your exclaims,
To stir3 against the butchers of his life.
But since correction lieth in those hands4
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven,
Who, when they see the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders’ heads.
DUCHESS Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward11’s seven sons, whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven vials 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 Destinies15 cut.
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloucester,
One vial full of Edward’s sacred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Is cracked, and all the precious liquor19 spilt,
Is hacked down, and his summer leaves all faded20,
By envy’s21 hand and murder’s bloody axe.
Ah, Gaunt, his blood was thine! That bed, that womb,
That metal23, that self-mould that fashioned thee
Made him a man. And though thou liv’st and breath’st,
Yet art thou slain in him. Thou dost consent25
In some large measure to thy father’s death,
In that thou see’st thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model28 of thy father’s life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair.
In suff’ring30 thus thy brother to be slaughtered,
Thou sh
ow’st the naked31 pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murder how to butcher thee.
That which in mean33 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 venge36 my Gloucester’s death.
GAUNT Heaven’s is the quarrel, for heaven’s substitute,
His deputy37 anointed in his sight38,
Hath caused 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 complaint myself42?
GAUNT To heaven, the widow’s champion43 to defence.
DUCHESS Why, then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
Thou go’st to Coventry, there to behold
Our cousin46 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 career49,
Be Mowbray’s sins so heavy in his bosom,
That they may break his foaming courser51’s back,
And throw the rider headlong in the lists52,
A caitiff53 recreant to my cousin Hereford!
Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometimes54 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 boundeth58 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 brother62, Edmund York.
Lo63, this is all. Nay, yet depart not so:
Though this be all, do not so quickly go.
I shall remember more. Bid him — O, what? —
With all good speed at Plashy66 visit me.
Alack, and what shall good old York there see
But empty lodgings and unfurnished walls,
Unpeopled offices69, 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 everywhere.
Desolate, desolate, will I hence and die:
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.
Exeunt
Act 1 Scene 3
running scene 3
Location: the area of combat at Coventry
Enter [the Lord] Marshal and Aumerle
LORD MARSHAL My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed?
AUMERLE Yea, at all points2, and longs to enter in.
LORD MARSHAL The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully3 and bold,
Stays4 but the summons of the appellant’s trumpet.
AUMERLE Why, then, the champions5 are prepared, and stay
For nothing but his majesty’s approach.
Flourish. Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Green and others. [When they are set,] then Mowbray in armour and [a] Herald
KING RICHARD Marshal, demand7 of yonder champion
The cause of his arrival here in arms.
Ask him his name and orderly9 proceed
To swear him in the justice of his cause.
LORD MARSHAL 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’s thy quarrel13.
Speak truly, on thy knighthood and thine oath,
As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!
MOWBRAY My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
Who hither comes engagèd by my oath —
Which heaven defend18 a knight should violate! —
Both to defend my loyalty and truth
To God, my king and his succeeding20 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!
Tucket. Enter Hereford [Bullingbrook] and Herald
KING RICHARD Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,
Both who he is and why he cometh hither
Thus plated28 in habiliments of war,
And formally, according to our law,
Depose him30 in the justice of his cause.
LORD MARSHAL What is thy name? And wherefore31 com’st thou hither,
To Bullingbrook
Before King Richard in his royal lists?
Against whom com’st thou? And what’s thy quarrel?
Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
BULLINGBROOK Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby
Am I, who ready here do stand in arms
To prove, by heaven’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!
LORD MARSHAL On pain of death, no person be so bold
Or daring-hardy43 as to touch the lists,
Except the marshal and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair45 designs.
BULLINGBROOK 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 several51 friends.
LORD MARSHAL The appellant in all duty greets your highness,
And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.
KING RICHARD We will descend and fold him in our arms.
Comes down and embraces Bullingbrook
Cousin of Hereford, as55 thy cause is just,
So be thy fortune in this royal fight56!
Farewell, my blood57, which if today thou shed,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
BULLINGBROOK O, let no noble eye profane59 a tear
For me, if I be gored with Mowbray’s spear.
As confident as is the falcon’s flight
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.—
My loving lord, I take my leave of you.—
To Richard
Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle,
Not sick, although I have to do with death,
But lusty66, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet67
The daintiest68 last, to make the end most sweet.—
O thou, the earthy author of my blood,
To Gaunt
Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate70,
Doth with a twofold71 rigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,
Add proof73 unto mine armour with thy prayers,
And with thy blessings steel my lance’s point,
That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen75 coat,
And furbish76 new the name of John a Gaunt,
Even in the lusty ’haviour77 of his son.
GAUNT Heaven in thy good cause make thee prosp’rous!
Be swift like lightning in the execution,
And let thy blows, doubly redoublèd,
Fall like amazing81 thunder on the casque
Of thy amazed pernicious82 enemy,
Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
BULLINGBROOK Mine innocence and Saint George84 to thrive!
MOWBRAY However heaven or fortune cast my lot,
There lives or dies, true to King Richard’s throne,
A loyal, just and upright gentleman.
<
br /> Never did captive with a freer heart
Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
His golden uncontrolled enfranchisement90
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
This feast of battle with mine adversary.
Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
Take from my mouth the wish of happy years.
As gentle95 and as jocund as to jest
Go I to fight. Truth hath a quiet breast.
KING RICHARD Farewell, my lord. Securely97 I espy
Virtue with valour couchèd98 in thine eye.
Order99 the trial, marshal, and begin.
LORD MARSHAL Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
Receive thy lance. And heaven defend thy right!
Attendant gives a lance to Bullingbrook
BULLINGBROOK Strong as a tower, in hope I cry ‘Amen’.
LORD MARSHAL Go bear this lance to Thomas,
Duke of Norfolk.
Attendant gives a lance to Mowbray
FIRST HERALD Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself,
On pain to be found false and recreant106,
To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
A traitor to his God, his king and him108,
And dares him to set forwards to the fight.
SECOND HERALD Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
On pain to be found false and recreant,
Both to defend himself and to approve112
Henry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
To God, his sovereign and to him114 disloyal,
Courageously and with a free desire
Attending116 but the signal to begin.
A charge sounded
LORD MARSHAL Sound trumpets, and set forward, combatants.
Stay118, the king hath thrown his warder down.
KING RICHARD Let them lay by119 their helmets and their spears,
And both return back to their chairs again.
Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound
While we return122 these dukes what we decree.
A long flourish
Draw near, and list123 what with our council we have done.
For that124 our kingdom’s earth should not be soiled
With that dear125 blood which it hath fosterèd,
And for126 our eyes do hate the dire aspect
Of civil wounds ploughed up with neighbours’ swords,
Which so roused up with boist’rous128 untuned drums,
With harsh resounding trumpets’ dreadful bray,
And grating shock130 of wrathful iron arms,
Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace
And make us wade even in our kindred’s blood:
Richard II Page 4
