KING RICHARD THE SECOND

Act 1 Scene 3

(Enter Lord Marshal with officers setting out chairs, and the Duke of Aumerle)
l1l	Lord Marshal	My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed?
l2l	Aumerle	Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
l3l	Lord Marshal	The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
l4l		Stays but the summons of the appellant’s trumpet.
l5l	Aumerle	Why then, the champions are prepared, and stay
l6l		For nothing but his majesty’s approach.
		(The trumpets sound, and King Richard enters, with John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and other nobles. When they are set, enter Mowbray Duke of Norfolk, defendant, in arms, and a Herald)
l7l	King Richard	Marshal, demand of yonder champion
l8l		The cause of his arrival here in arms.
l9l		Ask him his name, and orderly proceed
l10l		To swear him in the justice of his cause.
l11l	Lord Marshal	(to Mowbray)
		 In God’s name and the King’s, say who thou art,
l12l		And why thou com’st thus knightly clad in arms,
l13l		Against what man thou com’st, and what thy quarrel.
l14l		Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath,
l15l		As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!
l16l	Mowbray	My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
l17l		Who hither come engagèd by my oath—
l18l		Which God defend a knight should violate—
l19l		Both to defend my loyalty and truth
l20l		To God, my king, and my succeeding issue,
l21l		Against the Duke of Hereford that appeals me#
l22l		And by the grace of God and this mine arm
l23l		To prove him, in defending of myself,
l24l		A traitor to my God, my king, and me.
l25l		And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
		(He sits.)
l26l		The trumpets sound. Enter Bolingbroke Duke of Hereford, appellant, in armour, [and a Herald]
	King Richard	Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms
l27l		Both who he is and why he cometh hither
l28l		Thus plated in habiliments of war#
l29l		And formally, according to our law,
l30l		Depose him in the justice of his cause.
l31l	Lord Marshal	(to Bolingbroke)
		 What is thy name? And wherefore com’st thou hither
l32l		Before King Richard in his royal lists?
l33l		Against whom comest thou? And what’s thy quarrel?
l34l		Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
l35l	Bolingbroke	Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby
l36l		Am I, who ready here do stand in arms
l37l		To prove by God’s grace and my body’s valour
l38l		In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
l39l		That he is a traitor foul and dangerous
l40l		To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me.
l41l		And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
		(He sits)
l42l	Lord Marshal	On pain of death, no person be so bold
l43l		Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists
l44l		Except the Marshal and such officers
l45l		Appointed to direct these fair designs.
l46l	Bolingbroke	(standing)
		 Lord Marshal, let me kiss my sovereign’s hand
l47l		And bow my knee before his majesty,
l48l		For Mowbray and myself are like two men
l49l		That vow a long and weary pilgrimage#
l50l		Then let us take a ceremonious leave
l51l		And loving farewell of our several friends.
l52l	Lord Marshal	(to King Richard)
		 The appellant in all duty greets your highness,
l53l		And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.
l54l	King Richard	We will descend and fold him in our arms.
		(He descends from his seat and embraces Bolingbroke)
l55l		Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is just,
l56l		So be thy fortune in this royal fight.
l57l		Farewell, my blood, which if today thou shed,
l58l		Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
l59l	Bolingbroke	O, let no noble eye profane a tear
l60l		For me if I be gored with Mowbray’s spear.
l61l		As confident as is the falcon’s flight
l62l		Against a bird do I with Mowbray fight.
l63l		(To the Lord Marshal)
		 My loving lord, I take my leave of you#
l64l		(To Aumerle)
		 Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle#
l65l		Not sick, although I have to do with death,
l66l		But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
l67l		Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet
l68l		The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet.
l69l		(To Gaunt, kneeling)
		 O thou, the earthly author of my blood,
l70l		Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate
l71l		Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up
l72l		To reach at victory above my head,
l73l		Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers,
l74l		And with thy blessings steel my lance’s point,
l75l		That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen coat
l76l		And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt
l77l		Even in the lusty haviour of his son.
l78l	John Of Gaunt	God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!
l79l		Be swift like lightning in the execution,
l80l		And let thy blows, doubly redoublèd,
l81l		Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
l82l		Of thy adverse pernicious enemy.
l83l		Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.
l84l	Bolingbroke	(standing)
		 Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!
l85l	Mowbray	(standing)
		 However God or fortune cast my lot,
l86l		There lives or dies, true to King Richard’s throne,
l87l		A loyal, just, and upright gentleman.
l88l		Never did captive with a freer heart
l89l		Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
l90l		His golden uncontrolled enfranchisement
l91l		More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
l92l		This feast of battle with mine adversary.
l93l		Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
l94l		Take from my mouth the wish of happy years.
l95l		As gentle and as jocund as to jest
l96l		Go I to fight. Truth hath a quiet breast.
l97l	King Richard	Farewell, my lord. Securely I espy
l98l		Virtue with valour couchèd in thine eye.—
l99l		Order the trial, Marshal, and begin.
l100l	Lord Marshal	Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
l101l		Receive thy lance# and God defend the right!
		(An officer bears a lance to Bolingbroke)
l102l	Bolingbroke	Strong as a tower in hope, I cry “Amen!”
l103l	Lord Marshal	(to an officer)
		 Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.
		(An officer bears a lance to Mowbray)
l104l	First Herald	Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby
l105l		Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself,
l106l		On pain to be found false and recreant,
l107l		To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
l108l		A traitor to his God, his king, and him,
l109l		And dares him to set forward to the fight.
l110l	Second Herald	Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
l111l		On pain to be found false and recreant,
l112l		Both to defend himself and to approve
l113l		Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby
l114l		To God his sovereign and to him disloyal,
l115l		Courageously and with a free desire
l116l		Attending but the signal to begin.
l117l	Lord Marshal	Sound trumpets, and set forward combatants!
		(A charge is sounded.)
l118l		King Richard throws down his warderStay, the King hath thrown his warder down.
l119l	King Richard	Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
l120l		And both return back to their chairs again.
		(Bolingbroke and Mowbray disarm and sit)
l121l		(To the nobles)
		 Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound
l122l		While we return these dukes what we decree.
		(A long flourish, during which King Richard and his nobles withdraw and hold council, then come forward. King Richard addresses Bolingbroke and Mowbray)
l123l		Draw near, and list what with our council we have done.
l124l		For that our kingdom’s earth should not be soiled
l125l		With that dear blood which it hath fosterèd,
l126l		And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
l127l		Of civil wounds ploughed up with neighbours’ swords,
l128l		Which, so roused up with boist’rous untuned drums,
l129l		With harsh-resounding trumpets’ dreadful bray,
l130l		And grating shock of wrathful iron arms,
l131l		Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace
l132l		And make us wade even in our kindred’s blood,
l133l		Therefore we banish you our territories.
l134l		You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life,
l135l		Till twice five summers have enriched our fields
l136l		Shall not regreet our fair dominions,
l137l		But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
l138l	Bolingbroke	Your will be done. This must my comfort be:
l139l		That sun that warms you here shall shine on me,
l140l		And those his golden beams to you here lent
l141l		Shall point on me and gild my banishment.
l142l	King Richard	Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom,
l143l		Which I with some unwillingness pronounce.
l144l		The sly slow hours shall not determinate
l145l		The dateless limit of thy dear exile.
l146l		The hopeless word of “never to return”
l147l		Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.
l148l	Mowbray	A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege,
l149l		And all unlooked-for from your highness’ mouth.
l150l		A dearer merit, not so deep a maim
l151l		As to be cast forth in the common air,
l152l		Have I deservèd at your highness’ hands.
l153l		The language I have learnt these forty years,
l154l		My native English, now I must forgo,
l155l		And now my tongue’s use is to me no more
l156l		Than an unstringèd viol or a harp,
l157l		Or like a cunning instrument cased up,
l158l		Or, being open, put into his hands
l159l		That knows no touch to tune the harmony.
l160l		Within my mouth you have enjailed my tongue,
l161l		Doubly portcullised with my teeth and lips,
l162l		And dull unfeeling barren ignorance
l163l		Is made my jailer to attend on me.
l164l		I am too old to fawn upon a nurse,
l165l		Too far in years to be a pupil now.
l166l		What is thy sentence then but speechless death,
l167l		Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?
l168l	King Richard	It boots thee not to be compassionate.
l169l		After our sentence, plaining comes too late.
l170l	Mowbray	Then thus I turn me from my country’s light,
l171l		To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.
l172l	King Richard	Return again, and take an oath with thee.
l173l		(To both)
		 Lay on our royal sword your banished hands.
l174l		Swear by the duty that you owe to God—
l175l		Our part therein we banish with yourselves—
l176l		To keep the oath that we administer.
l177l		You never shall, so help you truth and God,
l178l		Embrace each other’s love in banishment,
l179l		Nor never look upon each other’s face,
l180l		Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile
l181l		This low’ring tempest of your home-bred hate,
l182l		Nor never by advisèd purpose meet
l183l		To plot, contrive, or complot any ill
l184l		’Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.
l185l	Bolingbroke	I swear.
	Mowbray	And I, to keep all this.
l186l	Bolingbroke	Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy:
l187l		By this time, had the King permitted us,
l188l		One of our souls had wandered in the air,
l189l		Banished this frail sepulchre of our flesh,
l190l		As now our flesh is banished from this land.
l191l		Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm.
l192l		Since thou hast far to go, bear not along
l193l		The clogging burden of a guilty soul.
l194l	Mowbray	No, Bolingbroke, if ever I were traitor,
l195l		My name be blotted from the book of life,
l196l		And I from heaven banished as from hence.
l197l		But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know,
l198l		And all too soon I fear the King shall rue.
l199l		Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray:
l200l		Save back to England, all the world’s my way.
		(Exit)
l201l	King Richard	Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes
l202l		I see thy grievèd heart. Thy sad aspect
l203l		Hath from the number of his banished years
l204l		Plucked four away.
		(To Bolingbroke)
		 Six frozen winters spent,
l205l		Return with welcome home from banishment.
l206l	Bolingbroke	How long a time lies in one little word!
l207l		Four lagging winters and four wanton springs
l208l		End in a word: such is the breath of kings.
l209l	John Of Gaunt	I thank my liege that in regard of me
l210l		He shortens four years of my son’s exile.
l211l		But little vantage shall I reap thereby,
l212l		For ere the six years that he hath to spend
l213l		Can change their moons and bring their times about,
l214l		My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light
l215l		Shall be extinct with age and endless night.
l216l		My inch of taper will be burnt and done,
l217l		And blindfold death not let me see my son.
l218l	King Richard	Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.
l219l	John Of Gaunt	But not a minute, King, that thou canst give.
l220l		Shorten my days thou canst with sudden sorrow,
l221l		And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow.
l222l		Thou canst help time to furrow me with age,
l223l		But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
l224l		Thy word is current with him for my death,
l225l		But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.
l226l	King Richard	Thy son is banished upon good advice,
l227l		Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave.
l228l		Why at our justice seem’st thou then to lour?
l229l	John Of Gaunt	Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour.
l230l		You urged me as a judge, but I had rather
l231l		You would have bid me argue like a father.
l232l		Alas, I looked when some of you should say
l233l		I was too strict to make mine own away,
l234l		But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue
l235l		Against my will to do myself this wrong.
l236l	King Richard	Cousin, farewell# and uncle, bid him so.
l237l		Six years we banish him, and he shall go.
		(Flourish. Exeunt all but Aumerle, the Lord Marshal, John of Gaunt, and Bolingbroke)
l238l	Aumerle	(to Bolingbroke)
		 Cousin, farewell. What presence must not know,
l239l		From where you do remain let paper show.
		(Exit)
l240l	Lord Marshal	(to Bolingbroke)
		 My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride
l241l		As far as land will let me by your side.
l242l	John Of Gaunt	(to Bolingbroke)
		 O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,
l243l		That thou return’st no greeting to thy friends?
l244l	Bolingbroke	I have too few to take my leave of you,
l245l		When the tongue’s office should be prodigal
l246l		To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart.
l247l	John Of Gaunt	Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.
l248l	Bolingbroke	Joy absent, grief is present for that time.
l249l	John Of Gaunt	What is six winters? They are quickly gone.
l250l	Bolingbroke	To men in joy, but grief makes one hour ten.
l251l	John Of Gaunt	Call it a travel that thou tak’st for pleasure.
l252l	Bolingbroke	My heart will sigh when I miscall it so,
l253l		Which finds it an enforcèd pilgrimage.
l254l	John Of Gaunt	The sullen passage of thy weary steps
l255l		Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set
l256l		The precious jewel of thy home return.
l257l	Bolingbroke	O, who can hold a fire in his hand
l258l		By thinking on the frosty Caucasus,
l259l		Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite
l260l		By bare imagination of a feast,
l261l		Or wallow naked in December snow
l262l		By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat?
l263l		O no, the apprehension of the good
l264l		Gives but the greater feeling to the worse.
l265l		Fell sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more
l266l		Than when he bites, but lanceth not the sore.
l267l	John Of Gaunt	Come, come, my son, I’ll bring thee on thy way.
l268l		Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.
l269l	Bolingbroke	Then England’s ground, farewell. Sweet soil, adieu,
l270l		My mother and my nurse that bears me yet!
l271l		Where’er I wander, boast of this I can:
l272l		Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman.
		(Exeunt)