Abbildungen der Seite
PDF
EPUB

K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me;

Let's purge this choler without letting blood;
This we prescribe, though. no physician;
Deep-malice makes too deep incifion :
Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed;
Our doctors fay, this is no time to bleed.-
Good uncle, let this end where it begun ;
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your fon.
Gaunt. To be a makepeace fhall become my age :-
Throw down, my fon, the duke of Norfolk's gage.
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his.

Gaunt.

When, Harry? when?

Obedience bids, I should not bid again.

K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is no boot. Nor. Myfelf I throw, dread fovereign, at thy foot: My life thou shalt command, but not my shame : The one my duty owes; but my fair name, (Despite of death, that lives upon my grave,) To dark difhonour's use thou shalt not have. I am difgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here; Pierc'd to the foul with flander's venom'd spear; The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood Which breath'd this poison.

K. Rich.

Rage must be withstood : Give me his gage: :-Lions make leopards tame.

Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: take but my

fhame,

And I refign my gage. My dear dear lord,

The pureft treasure mortal times afford,

Is-spotlefs reputation; that away,

Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times-barr'd-up cheft
Is a bold fpirit in a loyal breast.

Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;

Take

Take honour from me, and my life is done :
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
In that I live, and for that will I die.

K. Rich. Coufin, throw down your gage; do you begin.
Boling. O, God defend my foul from fuch foul fin!
Shall I feem crestfallen in my father's fight?
Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height
Before this outdar'd daftard? Ere my tongue
Shallw ound mine honour with fuch feeble wrong,
Or found fo base a parle, my teeth shall tear
The flavish motive of recanting fear

;

And spit it bleeding, in his high difgrace,

Where fhame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. [Exit GAUNT,

K. Rich. We were not born to fue, but to command: Which fince we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives fhall answer it, At Coventry, upon faint Lambert's day; There fhall your swords and lances arbitrate The fwelling difference of your settled hate; Since we cannot atone you, we shall fee Juftice design the victor's chivalry.Marshal, command our officers at arms Be ready to direct thefe home-alarms.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

The fame. A Room in the Duke of Lancaster's Palace.

Enter GAUNT, and Duchefs of Glofter.

Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Glofter's blood
Doth more folicit me, than your exclaims,
To ftir against the butchers of his life.

[blocks in formation]

.

But fince correction lieth in those hands,
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;
Who when he fees the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no fharper fpur?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward's feven fons, whereof thyself art one,
Were as seven phials of his facred blood,
Or feven fair branches, fpringing from one root:
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course,
Some of those branches by the destinies cut:
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Glofter,→
One phial full of Edward's facred blood,

One flourishing branch of his most royal root,—
Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor fpilt;

Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,

By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.

Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb,
That mettle, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee,

Made him a man; and though thou liv'ft, and breath'st,
Yet art thou flain in him: thou doft confent
In fome large measure to thy father's death,
In that thou feest thy wretched brother die,
Who was the model of thy father's life.
Call it not patience, Gaunt, it is despair :

In fuffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd,
Thou show'ft the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching ftern murder how to butcher thee:
That which in men we entitle-patience,
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.
What fhall I fay? to fafe-guard thine own life,
The best way is to 'venge my Glofter's death,

Gaunt

Gaunt. Heaven's is the quarrel; for heaven's fubfti.

tute,

His deputy anointed in his fight,

Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully,
Let heaven revenge; for I may never lift

An angry arm against his minifter.

Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself?

Gaunt. To heaven, the widow's champion and defence.
Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt.
Thou go'ft to Coventry, there to behold

Our coufin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight:
O, fit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's fpear,
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast!
Or, if misfortune mifs the first career,
Be Mowbray's fins fo heavy in his bofom,
That they may break his foaming courfer's back,
And throw the rider headlong in the lifts,
A caitiff recreant to my coufin Hereford!
Farewell, old Gaunt; thy fometimes brother's wife,
With her companion grief must end her life.
Gaunt. Sifter, farewell: I must to Coventry :
As much good stay with thee, as go with me!

Duch. Yet one word more;-Grief boundeth where it falls,

Not with the empty hollownefs, but weight:

I take my leave before I have begun;
For forrow ends not when it feemeth done.
Commend me to my brother, Edmund York.
Lo, this is all :-Nay, yet depart not so;
Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
I fhall remember more. Bid him-O, 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

Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones ?

And what cheer there for welcome, but my groans?
Therefore commend me; let him not come there,

To feek out forrow that dwells every where:
Defolate, defolate, will I hence, and die;
The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.

SCENE III.

Gosford-Green near Coventry.

[Exeunt.

Lifts fet out and a throne. Heralds, &c. attending.

Enter the Lord Marshal, and 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 of trumpets. Enter King RICHARD, who takes his

feat on his throne; GAUNT, and several noblemen, who take their places. A trumpet is founded, and answered by another trumpet within. Then enter NORFOLK in armour, preceded by a Herald.

K. Rich. Marfhal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms:

Afk him his name; and orderly proceed

To fwear him in the juftice of his caufe.

Mar. In God's name, and the king's, fay who thou

art,

And why thou com'st, thus knightly clad in arms:

6

Against

« ZurückWeiter »