That they may break his foaming Courfer's back, Not with the empty hollownefs, but weight: For forrow ends not, when it seemeth done. oh, what; 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 laft Leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt. SCENE, the Lifts, at Coventry. Enter the Lord Marshal, and the Duke of Aumerle. Mar. Y lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm'd? Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to en "M ter in. Mar. The Duke of Norfork, fprightfully and bold, Stays but the Summons of th' Appellant's trumpet. Aum. Why, then the Champions are prepar'd, and ftay For nothing but his Majefty's approach. [Flourish The 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 Ask him his name, and orderly proceed. 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! Against what man thou com'ft, and what thy quarrel?. Speak truly on thy Knighthood, and thine Oath, And fo defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither come engaged by my oath, (Which, heav'n defend, a Knight should violate!). To God, my King, and my fucceeding Iffue, The trumpets found. Enter Bolingbroke, Appellant, in armour.. K. Rich. Marshal, 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,.. Depose him in the juftice of his Caufe. Mar. What is thy name, and wherefore com'ft thou hither, Before King Richard, in his royal Lifts? [To Boling. Against whom comeft thou? and what's thy Quarrel? Speak like a true Knight, fo defend thee heav'n! Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby 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, Mar. On pain of death, no perfon be fo bold,. Boling. Lord Marshal, let me kifs my Sovereign's hand,. And bow my knee before his Majefty: For Mowbray and my felf 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. Mar. Th' Appellant in all duty greets your Highness, [To K. Rich. Farewel, my Blood; which if to day thou fhed, The daintieft laft, to make the end moft fweet : Oh thou! the earthly author of my blood, [T. Gaunt, Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up Ev'n in the lufty 'haviour of his son. Gaunt. Heav'n in thy good Caufe make thee prospe Be fwift like Lightning in the execution, Rouze up thy youthful blood, be brave and live. Mowb. However heav'n or fortune caft my lot, Caft off his chains of bondage, and embrace Go I to fight: Truth hath a quiet breast. Mar. Harry of Hereford, Lancafter and Derby, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, And dares him to fet forward to the fight. 2. Her. Here ftandeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, To God, his Sovereign, and to him, disloyal: Attending but the Signal to begin, [A Charge founded. Mar. Sound, Trumpets; and fet forward, Comba tants. But ftay, the King hath thrown his warder down, K. Rich. Let them lay by their helmets, and their spears, And Both return back to their chairs again: Draw near; A long Flourish; after which, the King And lift, what with our Council we have done. Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbour swords To wake our Peace, which in our country's cradle: But tread the ftranger paths of Banishment. Boling. Your will be done: this muft my comfort be That Sun, that warms you here, shall shine on me: And thofe 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. |