The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: c1r - Histories, p. 25

Left Column


The life and death of Richard the second. But since correction lyeth in those hands Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our quarrell to the will of heauen,
[215]
Who when they see the houres ripe on earth, Will raigne hot vengeance on offenders heads.
Dut. Findes brotherhood in thee no sharper spurre? Hath loue in thy old blood no liuing fire? Edwards seuen sonnes (whereof thy selfe art one)
[220]
Were as seuen violles of his Sacred blood, Or seuen faire branches springing from one roote: Some of those seuen are dride by natures course, Some of those branches by the destinies cut: But Thomas, my deere Lord, my life, my Glouster,
[225]
One Violl full of Edwards Sacred blood, One flourishing branch of his most Royall roote Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt; Is hackt downe, and his summer leafes all vaded By Enuies hand, and Murde s bloody Axe.
[230]
Ah Gaunt! His blood was thine, that bed, that wombe, That mettle, that selfe‑mould that fashion'd thee, Made him a man: and though thou liu'st, and breath'st, Yet art thou slaine in him: thou dost consent In some large measure to thy Fathers death,
[235]
In that thou seest thy wretched brother dye, Who was the modell of thy Fathers life. Call it not patience ( Gaunt) it is dispaire, In suff ring thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life,
[240]
Teaching sterne murther how to butcher thee: That which in meane men we intitle patience Is pale cold cowardice in noble brests: What shall I say, to safegard thine owne life, The best way is to venge my Glousters death.
Gaunt.
[245]
Heauens is the quarrel: for heauens substitute His Deputy annointed in his sight, Hath caus'd his death, the which if wrongfully Let heauen reuenge: for I may neuer lift An angry arme against his Minister.
Dut.
[250]
Where then (alas may I) complaint my selfe?
Gau. To heauen, the widdowes Champion to defence Dut. Why then I will: farewell old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Couentrie, there to behold Our Cosine Herford, and fell Mowbray fight:
[255]
O sit my husbands wrongs on Herfords speare, That it may enter butcher Mowbrayes brest: Or if misfortune misse the first carreere, Be Mowbrayes sinnes so heauy in his bosome, That they may breake his foaming Coursers backe,
[260]
And throw the Rider headlong in the Lists, A Caytiffe recreant to my Cosine Herford: Farewell old Gaunt, thy sometimes brothers wife With her companion Greefe, must end her life.
Gau. Sister farewell: I must to Couentree,
[265]
As much good stay with thee, as go with mee.
Dut. Yet one wotd word more: Greefe boundeth where it (falls, Not with the emptie hollownes, but weight: I take my leaue, before I haue begun, For sorrow ends not, when it seemeth done.
[270]
Commend me to my brother Edmund Yorke. Loe, this is all: nay, yet depart not so, Though this be all, do not so quickly go, I shall remember more. Bid him, Oh, what ? With all good speed at Plashie visit mee.
[275]
Alacke, and what shall good old Yorke there see But empty lodgings, and vnfurnish'd walles, Vn‑peopel'd Offices, vntroden stones?

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Right Column


And what heare there for welcome, but my grones? Therefore commend me, let him not come there,
[280]
To seeke out sorrow, that dwels euery where: Desolate, desolate will I hence, and dye, The last leaue of thee, takes my weeping eye.
Exeunt
Scena Tertia. [Act 1, Scene 3] Enter Marshall, and Aumerle. Mar. My L. Lord Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd. Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in. Mar.
[285]
The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold, Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet.
Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his Maiesties approach. Flourish. Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then Mowbray in Ar­ mor, and Harrold. Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion
[290]
The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes, Aske him his name, and orderly proceed To sweare him in the iustice of his cause.
Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings say who y u art, And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes?
[295]
Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell, Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath, As so defend thee heauen, and thy valour.
Mow. My name is Tho. Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk, Who hither comes engaged by my oath
[300]
(Which heauen defend a knight should violate) Both to defend my loyalty and truth, An ink mark follows the end of this line. To God, my King, and his succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Herford, that appeales me: And by the grace of God, and this mine arme,
[305]
To proue him (in defending of my selfe) A Traitor to my God, my King, and me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.
Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold. Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes, Both who he is, and why he commeth hither,
[310]
Thus placed in habiliments of warre: And formerly according to our Law Depose him in the iustice of his cause.
Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst y u hither Before King Richard in his Royall Lists?
[315]
Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell? Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen.
Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes, To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour,
[320]
In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke, That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous, To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.
Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold,
[325]
Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes, Except the Marshall, and such Officers Appointed to direct these faire designes.
Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand, And bow my knee before his Maiestie:
[330]
For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage, c Then

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Scena Tertia. [Act 1, Scene 3] Enter Marshall, and Aumerle. Mar. My L.Lord Aumerle, is Harry Herford arm'd. Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in. Mar.
[285]
The Duke of Norfolke, sprightfully and bold, Stayes but the summons of the Appealants Trumpet.
Au. Why then the Champions, are prepar'd, and stay For nothing but his Maiesties approach. Flourish. Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, & others: Then Mowbray in Ar­ mor, and Harrold. Rich. Marshall, demand of yonder Champion
[290]
The cause of his arriuall heere in Armes, Aske him his name, and orderly proceed To sweare him in the iustice of his cause.
Mar. In Gods name, and the Kings say who y u art, And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in Armes?
[295]
Against what man thou com'st, and what's thy quarrell, Speake truly on thy knighthood, and thine oath, As so defend thee heauen, and thy valour.
Mow. My name is Tho.Thomas Mowbray , Duke of Norfolk, Who hither comes engaged by my oath
[300]
(Which heauen defend a knight should violate) Both to defend my loyalty and truth, An ink mark follows the end of this line. To God, my King, and his succeeding issue, Against the Duke of Herford, that appeales me: And by the grace of God, and this mine arme,
[305]
To proue him (in defending of my selfe) A Traitor to my God, my King, and me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.
Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold. Rich. Marshall: Aske yonder Knight in Armes, Both who he is, and why he commeth hither,
[310]
Thus placed in habiliments of warre: And formerly according to our Law Depose him in the iustice of his cause.
Mar. What is thy name? and wherfore comst y u hither Before King Richard in his Royall Lists?
[315]
Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell? Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen.
Bul. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes, To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour,
[320]
In Lists, on Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolke, That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous, To God of heauen, King Richard, and to me, And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.
Mar. On paine of death, no person be so bold,
[325]
Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes, Except the Marshall, and such Officers Appointed to direct these faire designes.
Bul. Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand, And bow my knee before his Maiestie:
[330]
For Mowbray and my selfe are like two men, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage, Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue And louing farwell of our seuerall friends.
Mar. The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes,
[335]
And craues to kisse your hand, and take his leaue.
Rich. We will descend, and fold him in our armes. Cosin of Herford, as they cause is iust, So be thy fortune in this Royall fight: Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead,
[340]
Lament we may, but not reuenge thee dead.
Bull. Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbrayes speare: As confident, as is the Falcons flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
[345]
My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you, Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord Aumerle; Not sicke, although I haue to do with death, But lustie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath. Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete
[350]
The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. Oh thou the earthy author of my blood, Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate, Doth with a two‑fold rigor lift mee vp To reach at victory aboue my head,
[355]
Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres, And with thy blessings steele my Lances point, That it may enter Mowbrayes waxen Coate, And furnish new the name of Iohn a Gaunt, Euen in the lusty hauiour of his sonne.
Gaunt.
[360]
Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous Be swift like lightning in the execution, And let thy blowes doubly redoubled, Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy.
[365]
Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue.
Bul. Mine innocence, and S.Saint George to thriue. Mow. How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot, An ink mark follows the end of this line. There liues, or dies, tgrue to Kings Richards Throne, A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman:
[370]
Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart, Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement, More then my dancing soule doth celebrate This Feast of Battell, with mine Aduersarie.
[375]
Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres, Take from my mouth, the wish of happy yeares, As gentle, and as iocond, as to iest, Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest.
Rich. Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy
[380]
Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye: Order the trial Marshall, and begin.
Mar. Harrie of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right. Bul. Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen. Mar.
[385]
Go beare this Lance to Thomas D.Duke of Norfolke.
1. Har. Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie, Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe, On paine to be found false, and recreant, To proue the Duke of Norfolke, Thomas Mowbray,
[390]
A Traitor to his God, his King, and him, And dares him to set forwards to the fight.
2. Har. Here standeth Tho:Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk On paine to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himselfe, and to approue
[395]
Henry of Herford, Lancaster, and Derby, To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall: Couragiously, and with a free desire Attending but the signall to begin.
A charge sounded Mar. Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants:
[400]
Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe.
Rich. Let them lay by their Helmets & their Speares, And both returne backe to their Chaires againe: Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets sound, While we returne these Dukes what we decree. A long Flourish.
[405]
Draw neere and lift What with our Councell we haue done. For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld With that deere blood which it hath fostered, And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
[410]
Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords, Which so rouz'd up with boystrous vntun'd drummes, With harsh resounding Trumpets dreadfull bray, And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes, Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace,
[415]
And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood: Therefore, we banish you our Territories. You Cosin Herford, vpon paine of death, Till twice liue Summers haue enrich'd our fields, Shall not regreet our faire dominions,
[420]
But treade the stranger pathes of banishment.
Bul. Your will be done: This must my comfort be, That Sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me: And those his golden beames to you heere lent, Shall point on me, and gild my banishment. Rich.
[425]
Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe, Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce, The slye slow houres shall not determinate The datelesse limit of thy deere exile: The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne,
[430]
Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life.
Mow. A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege, And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth: A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime, As to be cast forth in the common ayre
[435]
Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands. The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares (My natiue English) now I must forgo, And now my tongues use is to me no more, Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe,
[440]
Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp, Or being open, put into his hands That knowes no touch to tune the harmony. Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue, Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes,
[445]
And dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance, Is made my Gaoler to attend on me: I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse, Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now: What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death,
[450]
Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath?
Rich. It boots thee not to be compassionate, After our sentence, plaining comes too late. Mow. Then thus I turne me from my countries light To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night. Ric.
[455]
Returne againe, and take an oath with thee, Lay on our Royall sword, your banisht hands; Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen (Our part therein we banish with your selues) To keepe the Oath that we administer:
[460]
You neuer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen) Embrace each others loue in banishment, Nor euer looke vpon each others face, Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile This lowring tempest of your home‑bred hate,
[465]
Nor euer by aduised purpose meete, To plot, contriue, or complot any ill, 'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land.
Bull. I sweare. Mow. And I, to keepe all this. Bul.
[470]
Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie, By this time (had the King permitted vs) One of our soules had wandred in the ayre, Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh, As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land.
[475]
Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme, Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along The clogging burthen of a guilty soule.
Mow. No Bullingbroke: If euer I were Traitor, My name be blotted from the booke of Life,
[480]
And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence: But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know, And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue. Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray, Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way.
Exit. Rich.
[485]
Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect, Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent, Returne with welcome home, from banishment.
Bul.
[490]
How long a time lyes in one little word: Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs End in a word, such is the breath of Kings.
Gaunt. I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me He shortens foure years of my sonnes exile:
[495]
But little vantage shall I reape thereby. For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend Can change their Moones, and bring their times about, My oyle‑dride Lampe, and time‑bewasted light Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night:
[500]
My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done, And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne.
Rich. Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue. Gaunt. But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue; Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow,
[505]
And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow: Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage: Thy word is currant with him, for my death, But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.
Ric.
[510]
Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice, Where to thy tongue a party‑verdict gaue, Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre?
Gau. Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre: You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather
[515]
you would haue bid me argue like a Father. Alas, I look'd when some of you should say, I was too strict to make mine owne away: But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong, Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong.
Rich.
[520]
Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so: Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go.
Exit. Flourish. Au. Confine farewell what presence must not know From where you do remaine, let paper show. Mar. My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride
[525]
As farre as land will let me, by your side.
Gaunt. Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words, That thou returnst no greeting to thy friends? Bull. I haue too few to take my leaue of you, When the tongues office should be prodigall,
[530]
To breath th'abundant dolour of the heart.
Gau. Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time. Bull. Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time. Gan. What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone? Bul. To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten. Gau.
[535]
Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure.
Bul. My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so, Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage. Gau. The sullen passage of thy weary steppes Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set
[540]
The precious Iewell of thy home returne.
Bul. Oh who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the froste Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, by bare imagination of a Feast?
[545]
Or Wallow naked in December snow by thinking on fantasticke summers heate? Oh no, the apprehension of the good Giues but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more
[550]
Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.
Gau. Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay. Bul. Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu, My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet:
[555]
Where ere I wander, boast of this I can, Though banish'd, yet a true‑borne Englishman.
 

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   <head rend="italic center">Scena Tertia.</head>
   <head type="supplied">[Act 1, Scene 3]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Marshall, and Aumerle.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mar">
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   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">Flourish.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter King, Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Greene, &amp;
      <lb/>others: Then Mowbray in Ar­
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      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="289">Marshall, demand of yonder Champion</l>
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      <note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
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      <l n="307">And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.</l>
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   <stage rend="italic center" type="mixed">Tucket. Enter Hereford, and Harold.</stage>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="313">What is thy name? and wherfore comst y<c rend="superscript">u</c>hither</l>
      <l n="314">Before King<hi rend="italic">Richard</hi>in his Royall Lists?</l>
      <l n="315">Against whom com'st thou? and what's thy quarrell?</l>
      <l n="316">Speake like a true Knight, so defend thee heauen.</l>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
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         <hi rend="italic">Harry</hi>of Herford, Lancaster, and Derbie,</l>
      <l n="318">Am I: who ready heere do stand in Armes,</l>
      <l n="319">To proue by heauens grace, and my bodies valour,</l>
      <l n="320">In Lists, on<hi rend="italic">Thomas Mowbray</hi>Duke of Norfolke,</l>
      <l n="321">That he's a Traitor foule, and dangerous,</l>
      <l n="322">To God of heauen, King<hi rend="italic">Richard</hi>, and to me,</l>
      <l n="323">And as I truly fight, defend me heauen.</l>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="324">On paine of death, no person be so bold,</l>
      <l n="325">Or daring hardie as to touch the Listes,</l>
      <l n="326">Except the Marshall, and such Officers</l>
      <l n="327">Appointed to direct these faire designes.</l>
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      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="328">Lord Marshall, let me kisse my Soueraigns hand,</l>
      <l n="329">And bow my knee before his Maiestie:</l>
      <l n="330">For<hi rend="italic">Mowbray</hi>and my selfe are like two men,</l>
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      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0350-0.jpg" n="26"/>
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      <l n="332">Then let vs take a ceremonious leaue</l>
      <l n="333">And louing farwell of our seuerall friends.</l>
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   <sp who="#F-r2-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="334">The Appealant in all duty greets your Highnes,</l>
      <l n="335">And craues to kisse your hand, and take his leaue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="336">We will descend, and fold him in our armes.</l>
      <l n="337">Cosin of Herford, as they cause is iust,</l>
      <l n="338">So be thy fortune in this Royall fight:</l>
      <l n="339">Farewell, my blood, which if to day thou shead,</l>
      <l n="340">Lament we may, but not reuenge thee dead.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bull.</speaker>
      <l n="341">Oh let no noble eye prophane a teare</l>
      <l n="342">For me, if I be gor'd with<hi rend="italic">Mowbrayes</hi>speare:</l>
      <l n="343">As confident, as is the Falcons flight</l>
      <l n="344">Against a bird, do I with<hi rend="italic">Mowbray</hi>fight.</l>
      <l n="345">My louing Lord, I take my leaue of you,</l>
      <l n="346">Of you (my Noble Cosin) Lord<hi rend="italic">Aumerle</hi>;</l>
      <l n="347">Not sicke, although I haue to do with death,</l>
      <l n="348">But lustie, yong, and cheerely drawing breath.</l>
      <l n="349">Loe, as at English Feasts, so I regreete</l>
      <l n="350">The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.</l>
      <l n="351">Oh thou the earthy author of my blood,</l>
      <l n="352">Whose youthfull spirit in me regenerate,</l>
      <l n="353">Doth with a two‑fold rigor lift mee vp</l>
      <l n="354">To reach at victory aboue my head,</l>
      <l n="355">Adde proofe vnto mine Armour with thy prayres,</l>
      <l n="356">And with thy blessings steele my Lances point,</l>
      <l n="357">That it may enter<hi rend="italic">Mowbrayes</hi>waxen Coate,</l>
      <l n="358">And furnish new the name of<hi rend="italic">Iohn a Gaunt</hi>,</l>
      <l n="359">Euen in the lusty hauiour of his sonne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gaunt.</speaker>
      <l n="360">Heauen in thy good cause make thee prosp'rous</l>
      <l n="361">Be swift like lightning in the execution,</l>
      <l n="362">And let thy blowes doubly redoubled,</l>
      <l n="363">Fall like amazing thunder on the Caske</l>
      <l n="364">Of thy amaz'd pernicious enemy.</l>
      <l n="365">Rouze vp thy youthfull blood, be valiant, and liue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="366">Mine innocence, and<choice>
            <abbr>S.</abbr>
            <expan>Saint</expan>
         </choice>
         <hi rend="italic">George</hi>to thriue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mow">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mow.</speaker>
      <l n="367">How euer heauen or fortune cast my lot,</l>
      <note type="physical" resp="#ES">An ink mark follows the end of this line.</note>
      <l n="368">There liues, or dies, tgrue to Kings<hi rend="italic">Richards</hi>Throne,</l>
      <l n="369">A loyall, iust, and vpright Gentleman:</l>
      <l n="370">Neuer did Captiue with a freer heart,</l>
      <l n="371">Cast off his chaines of bondage, and embrace</l>
      <l n="372">His golden vncontroul'd enfranchisement,</l>
      <l n="373">More then my dancing soule doth celebrate</l>
      <l n="374">This Feast of Battell, with mine Aduersarie.</l>
      <l n="375">Most mighty Liege, and my companion Peeres,</l>
      <l n="376">Take from my mouth, the wish of happy yeares,</l>
      <l n="377">As gentle, and as iocond, as to iest,</l>
      <l n="378">Go I to fight: Truth, hath a quiet brest.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="379">Farewell, my Lord, securely I espy</l>
      <l n="380">Vertue with Valour, couched in thine eye:</l>
      <l n="381">Order the trial Marshall, and begin.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="382">
         <hi rend="italic">Harrie</hi>of<hi rend="italic">Herford, Lancaster</hi>, and<hi rend="italic">Derby</hi>,</l>
      <l n="383">Receiue thy Launce, and heauen defend thy right.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="384">Strong as a towre in hope, I cry Amen.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="385">Go beare this Lance to<hi rend="italic">Thomas</hi>
         <choice>
            <abbr>D.</abbr>
            <expan>Duke</expan>
         </choice>of Norfolke.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-her.1">
      <speaker rend="italic">1. Har.</speaker>
      <l n="386">
         <hi rend="italic">Harry</hi>of<hi rend="italic">Herford</hi>,<hi rend="italic">Lancaster</hi>, and<hi rend="italic">Derbie</hi>,</l>
      <l n="387">Stands heere for God, his Soueraigne, and himselfe,</l>
      <l n="388">On paine to be found false, and recreant,</l>
      <l n="389">To proue the Duke of Norfolke,<hi rend="italic">Thomas Mowbray</hi>,</l>
      <l n="390">A Traitor to his God, his King, and him,</l>
      <l n="391">And dares him to set forwards to the fight.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-her.2">
      <speaker rend="italic">2. Har.</speaker>
      <l n="392">Here standeth<hi rend="italic">
            <choice>
               <abbr>Tho:</abbr>
               <expan>Thomas</expan>
            </choice>Mowbray</hi>Duke of Norfolk</l>
      <l n="393">On paine to be found false and recreant,</l>
      <l n="394">Both to defend himselfe, and to approue</l>
      <l n="395">
         <hi rend="italic">Henry</hi>of<hi rend="italic">Herford, Lancaster</hi>, and<hi rend="italic">Derby</hi>,</l>
      <l n="396">To God, his Soueraigne, and to him disloyall:</l>
      <l n="397">Couragiously, and with a free desire</l>
      <cb n="2"/>
      <l n="398">Attending but the signall to begin.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="business">A charge sounded</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="399">Sound Trumpets, and set forward Combatants:</l>
      <l n="400">Stay, the King hath throwne his Warder downe.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="401">Let them lay by their Helmets &amp; their Speares,</l>
      <l n="402">And both returne backe to their Chaires againe:</l>
      <l n="403">Withdraw with vs, and let the Trumpets sound,</l>
      <l n="404">While we returne these Dukes what we decree.</l>
      <stage rend="italic center" type="business">A long Flourish.</stage>
      <l n="405">Draw neere and lift</l>
      <l n="406">What with our Councell we haue done.</l>
      <l n="407">For that our kingdomes earth should not be soyld</l>
      <l n="408">With that deere blood which it hath fostered,</l>
      <l n="409">And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect</l>
      <l n="410">Of ciuill wounds plowgh'd vp with neighbors swords,</l>
      <l n="411">Which so rouz'd up with boystrous vntun'd drummes,</l>
      <l n="412">With harsh resounding Trumpets dreadfull bray,</l>
      <l n="413">And grating shocke of wrathfull yron Armes,</l>
      <l n="414">Might from our quiet Confines fright faire peace,</l>
      <l n="415">And make vs wade euen in our kindreds blood:</l>
      <l n="416">Therefore, we banish you our Territories.</l>
      <l n="417">You Cosin Herford, vpon paine of death,</l>
      <l n="418">Till twice liue Summers haue enrich'd our fields,</l>
      <l n="419">Shall not regreet our faire dominions,</l>
      <l n="420">But treade the stranger pathes of banishment.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="421">Your will be done: This must my comfort be,</l>
      <l n="422">That Sun that warmes you heere, shall shine on me:</l>
      <l n="423">And those his golden beames to you heere lent,</l>
      <l n="424">Shall point on me, and gild my banishment.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="425">Norfolke: for thee remaines a heauier dombe,</l>
      <l n="426">Which I with some vnwillingnesse pronounce,</l>
      <l n="427">The slye slow houres shall not determinate</l>
      <l n="428">The datelesse limit of thy deere exile:</l>
      <l n="429">The hopelesse word, of Neuer to returne,</l>
      <l n="430">Breath I against thee, vpon paine of life.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mow">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mow.</speaker>
      <l n="431">A heauy sentence, my most Soueraigne Liege,</l>
      <l n="432">And all vnlook'd for from your Highnesse mouth:</l>
      <l n="433">A deerer merit, not so deepe a maime,</l>
      <l n="434">As to be cast forth in the common ayre</l>
      <l n="435">Haue I deserued at your Highnesse hands.</l>
      <l n="436">The Language I haue learn'd these forty yeares</l>
      <l n="437">(My natiue English) now I must forgo,</l>
      <l n="438">And now my tongues use is to me no more,</l>
      <l n="439">Then an vnstringed Vyall, or a Harpe,</l>
      <l n="440">Or like a cunning Instrument cas'd vp,</l>
      <l n="441">Or being open, put into his hands</l>
      <l n="442">That knowes no touch to tune the harmony.</l>
      <l n="443">Within my mouth you haue engaol'd my tongue,</l>
      <l n="444">Doubly percullist with my teeth and lippes,</l>
      <l n="445">And dull, vnfeeling, barren ignorance,</l>
      <l n="446">Is made my Gaoler to attend on me:</l>
      <l n="447">I am too old to fawne vpon a Nurse,</l>
      <l n="448">Too farre in yeeres to be a pupill now:</l>
      <l n="449">What is thy sentence then, but speechlesse death,</l>
      <l n="450">Which robs my tongue from breathing natiue breath?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="451">It boots thee not to be compassionate,</l>
      <l n="452">After our sentence, plaining comes too late.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mow">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mow.</speaker>
      <l n="453">Then thus I turne me from my countries light</l>
      <l n="454">To dwell in solemne shades of endlesse night.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="455">Returne againe, and take an oath with thee,</l>
      <l n="456">Lay on our Royall sword, your banisht hands;</l>
      <l n="457">Sweare by the duty that you owe to heauen</l>
      <l n="458">(Our part therein we banish with your selues)</l>
      <l n="459">To keepe the Oath that we administer:</l>
      <l n="460">You<c rend="inverted">n</c>euer shall (so helpe you Truth, and Heauen)</l>
      <l n="461">Embrace each others loue in banishment,</l>
      <l n="462">Nor euer looke vpon each others face,</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0351-0.jpg" n="27"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="463">Nor euer write, regreete, or reconcile</l>
      <l n="464">This lowring tempest of your home‑bred hate,</l>
      <l n="465">Nor euer by aduised purpose meete,</l>
      <l n="466">To plot, contriue, or complot any ill,</l>
      <l n="467">'Gainst Vs, our State, our Subiects, or our Land.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bull.</speaker>
      <l n="468">I sweare.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mow">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mow.</speaker>
      <l n="469">And I, to keepe all this.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="470">Norfolke, so fare, as to mine enemie,</l>
      <l n="471">By this time (had the King permitted vs)</l>
      <l n="472">One of our soules had wandred in the ayre,</l>
      <l n="473">Banish'd this fraile sepulchre of our flesh,</l>
      <l n="474">As now our flesh is banish'd from this Land.</l>
      <l n="475">Confesse thy Treasons, ere thou flye this Realme,</l>
      <l n="476">Since thou hast farre to go, beare not along</l>
      <l n="477">The clogging burthen of a guilty soule.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mow">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mow.</speaker>
      <l n="478">No<hi rend="italic">Bullingbroke:</hi>If euer I were Traitor,</l>
      <l n="479">My name be blotted from the booke of Life,</l>
      <l n="480">And I from heauen banish'd, as from hence:</l>
      <l n="481">But what thou art, heauen, thou, and I do know,</l>
      <l n="482">And all too soone (I feare) the King shall rue.</l>
      <l n="483">Farewell (my Liege) now no way can I stray,</l>
      <l n="484">Saue backe to England, all the worlds my way.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="485">Vncle, euen in the glasses of thine eyes</l>
      <l n="486">I see thy greeued heart: thy sad aspect,</l>
      <l n="487">Hath from the number of his banish'd yeares</l>
      <l n="488">Pluck'd foure away: Six frozen Winters spent,</l>
      <l n="489">Returne with welcome home, from banishment.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="490">How long a time lyes in one little word:</l>
      <l n="491">Foure lagging Winters, and foure wanton springs</l>
      <l n="492">End in a word, such is the breath of Kings.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gaunt.</speaker>
      <l n="493">I thanke my Liege, that in regard of me</l>
      <l n="494">He shortens foure years of my sonnes exile:</l>
      <l n="495">But little vantage shall I reape thereby.</l>
      <l n="496">For ere the sixe yeares that he hath to spend</l>
      <l n="497">Can change their Moones, and bring their times about,</l>
      <l n="498">My oyle‑dride Lampe, and time‑bewasted light</l>
      <l n="499">Shall be extinct with age, and endlesse night:</l>
      <l n="500">My inch of Taper, will be burnt, and done,</l>
      <l n="501">And blindfold death, not let me see my sonne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="502">Why Vncle, thou hast many yeeres to liue.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gaunt.</speaker>
      <l n="503">But not a minute (King) that thou canst giue;</l>
      <l n="504">Shorten my dayes thou canst with sudden sorow,</l>
      <l n="505">And plucke nights from me, but not lend a morrow:</l>
      <l n="506">Thou canst helpe time to furrow me with age,</l>
      <l n="507">But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage:</l>
      <l n="508">Thy word is currant with him, for my death,</l>
      <l n="509">But dead, thy kingdome cannot buy my breath.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ric.</speaker>
      <l n="510">Thy sonne is banish'd vpon good aduice,</l>
      <l n="511">Where to thy tongue a party‑verdict gaue,</l>
      <l n="512">Why at our Iustice seem'st thou then to lowre?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="513">Things sweet to tast, proue in digestion sowre:</l>
      <l n="514">You vrg'd me as a Iudge, but I had rather</l>
      <l n="515">you would haue bid me argue like a Father.</l>
      <l n="516">Alas, I look'd when some of you should say,</l>
      <l n="517">I was too strict to make mine owne away:</l>
      <l n="518">But you gaue leaue to my vnwilling tong,</l>
      <l n="519">Against my will, to do my selfe this wrong.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-ric">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="520">Cosine farewell: and Vncle bid him so:</l>
      <l n="521">Six yeares we banish him, and he shall go.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exit.</stage>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="business">Flourish.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-r2-aum">
      <speaker rend="italic">Au.</speaker>
      <l n="522">Confine farewell what presence must not know</l>
      <l n="523">From where you do remaine, let paper show.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-mar">
      <speaker rend="italic">Mar.</speaker>
      <l n="524">My Lord, no leaue take I, for I will ride</l>
      <l n="525">As farre as land will let me, by your side.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gaunt.</speaker>
      <l n="526">Oh to what purpose dost thou hord thy words,</l>
      <l n="527">That thou returnst no greeting to thy friends?</l>
   </sp>
   <cb n="2"/>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bull.</speaker>
      <l n="528">I haue too few to take my leaue of you,</l>
      <l n="529">When the tongues office should be prodigall,</l>
      <l n="530">To breath th'abundant dolour of the heart.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="531">Thy greefe is but thy absence for a time.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bull.</speaker>
      <l n="532">Ioy absent, greefe is present for that time.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gan.</speaker>
      <l n="533">What is sixe Winters, they are quickely gone?</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="534">To men in ioy, but greefe makes one houre ten.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="535">Call it a trauell that thou tak'st for pleasure.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="536">My heart will sigh, when I miscall it so,</l>
      <l n="537">Which findes it an inforced Pilgrimage.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="538">The sullen passage of thy weary steppes</l>
      <l n="539">Esteeme a soyle, wherein thou art to set</l>
      <l n="540">The precious Iewell of thy home returne.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="541">Oh who can hold a fire in his hand</l>
      <l n="542">By thinking on the froste<hi rend="italic">Caucasus</hi>?</l>
      <l n="543">Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite,</l>
      <l n="544">by bare imagination of a Feast?</l>
      <l n="545">Or Wallow naked in December snow</l>
      <l n="546">by thinking on fantasticke summers heate?</l>
      <l n="547">Oh no, the apprehension of the good</l>
      <l n="548">Giues but the greater feeling to the worse:</l>
      <l n="549">Fell sorrowes tooth, doth euer ranckle more</l>
      <l n="550">Then when it bites, but lanceth not the sore.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-gau">
      <speaker rend="italic">Gau.</speaker>
      <l n="551">Come, come (my son) Ile bring thee on thy way</l>
      <l n="552">Had I thy youth, and cause, I would not stay.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-r2-bol">
      <speaker rend="italic">Bul.</speaker>
      <l n="553">Then Englands ground farewell: sweet soil adieu,</l>
      <l n="554">My Mother, and my Nurse, which beares me yet:</l>
      <l n="555">Where ere I wander, boast of this I can,</l>
      <l n="556">Though banish'd, yet a true‑borne Englishman.</l>
   </sp>
</div>

        
        

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