Enter Lord Marshal and the Duke ⌜of⌝ Aumerle.MARSHAL My Lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed?AUMERLE Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
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MARSHAL The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons of the appellant’s trumpet.AUMERLE 5 Why then, the champions are prepared and stay For nothing but his Majesty’s approach.The trumpets sound and the King enters with his Nobles
⌜and Officers;⌝ when they are set, enter ⌜Mowbray,⌝ the
Duke of Norfolk in arms, defendant, ⌜with a Herald.⌝KING RICHARD Marshal, demand of yonder champion The cause of his arrival here in arms, Ask him his name, and orderly proceed10 To swear him in the justice of his cause.MARSHAL, ⌜to Mowbray⌝ In God’s name and the King’s, say who thou art And why thou comest thus knightly clad in arms, Against what man thou com’st, and what thy quarrel. Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath,15 As so defend thee heaven and thy valor.MOWBRAY My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, Who hither come engagèd by my oath— Which God defend a knight should violate!— Both to defend my loyalty and truth20 To God, my king, and my succeeding 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;25 And as I truly fight, defend me heaven.The trumpets sound. Enter ⌜Bolingbroke,⌝ Duke of
Hereford, appellant, in armor, ⌜with a Herald.⌝KING RICHARD Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms
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Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war, And formally, according to our law,30 Depose him in the justice of his cause.MARSHAL, ⌜to Bolingbroke⌝ What is thy name? And wherefore com’st thou hither, Before King Richard in his royal lists? Against whom comest thou? And what’s thy quarrel? Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven.BOLINGBROKE 35 Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby Am I, who ready here do stand in arms To prove, by God’s grace and my body’s valor, In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, That he is a traitor foul and dangerous40 To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me. And as I truly fight, defend me heaven.MARSHAL On pain of death, no person be so bold Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists, Except the Marshal and such officers45 Appointed to direct these fair designs.BOLINGBROKE 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.50 Then let us take a ceremonious leave And loving farewell of our several friends.MARSHAL, ⌜to King Richard⌝ The appellant in all duty greets your Highness And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.KING RICHARD, ⌜coming down⌝ We will descend and fold him in our arms.⌜He embraces Bolingbroke.⌝55 Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right,
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So be thy fortune in this royal fight. Farewell, my blood—which, if today thou shed, Lament we may but not revenge thee dead.BOLINGBROKE O, let no noble eye profane a tear60 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.— Of you, my noble cousin, Lord Aumerle;65 Not sick, although I have to do with death, But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.— Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. O, thou the earthly author of my blood,70 Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate Doth with a twofold vigor lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armor with thy prayers, And with thy blessings steel my lance’s point75 That it may enter Mowbray’s waxen coat And furbish new the name of John o’ Gaunt, Even in the lusty havior of his son.GAUNT God in thy good cause make thee prosperous. Be swift like lightning in the execution,80 And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy. Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant, and live.BOLINGBROKE Mine innocence and Saint George to thrive!MOWBRAY 85 However God or fortune cast my lot, There lives or dies, true to King Richard’s throne, A loyal, just, and upright gentleman.
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Never did captive with a freer heart Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace90 His golden uncontrolled enfranchisement 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.95 As gentle and as jocund as to jest Go I to fight. Truth hath a quiet breast.KING RICHARD Farewell, my lord. Securely I espy Virtue with valor couchèd in thine eye.— Order the trial, marshal, and begin.MARSHAL 100 Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby, Receive thy lance; and God defend the right.⌜He presents a lance to Bolingbroke.⌝BOLINGBROKE Strong as a tower in hope, I cry “Amen!”MARSHAL, ⌜to an Officer⌝ Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.⌜An Officer presents a lance to Mowbray.⌝⌜FIRST⌝ HERALD Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby105 Stands here for God, his sovereign, and himself, On pain to be found false and recreant, To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray, A traitor to his God, his king, and him, And dares him to set forward to the fight.SECOND HERALD 110 Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk, On pain to be found false and recreant, Both to defend himself and to approve Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby To God, his sovereign, and to him disloyal,
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115 Courageously and with a free desire Attending but the signal to begin.MARSHAL Sound, trumpets, and set forward, combatants.⌜Trumpets sound. Richard throws down his warder.⌝ Stay! The King hath thrown his warder down.KING RICHARD Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,120 And both return back to their chairs again. ⌜To his council.⌝ Withdraw with us, and let the trumpets sound While we return these dukes what we decree.⌜Trumpets sound while Richard consults with Gaunt
and other Nobles.⌝ ⌜To Bolingbroke and Mowbray.⌝ Draw near,125 And list what with our council we have done. For that our kingdom’s earth should not be soiled With that dear blood which it hath fosterèd; And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect Of civil wounds plowed up with neighbor’s sword;130 And for we think the eagle-wingèd pride Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts, With rival-hating envy, set on you To wake our peace, which in our country’s cradle Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep,135 Which, so roused up with boist’rous untuned drums, With harsh resounding trumpets’ dreadful bray, And grating shock of wrathful iron arms, Might from our quiet confines fright fair peace140 And make us wade even in our kindred’s blood: Therefore we banish you our territories. You, cousin Hereford, upon pain of life, Till twice five summers have enriched our fields Shall not regreet our fair dominions,145 But tread the stranger paths of banishment.
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BOLINGBROKE Your will be done. This must my comfort be: That sun that warms you here shall shine on me, And those his golden beams to you here lent Shall point on me and gild my banishment.KING RICHARD 150 Norfolk, for thee remains a heavier doom, Which I with some unwillingness pronounce: The sly, slow hours shall not determinate The dateless limit of thy dear exile. The hopeless word of “never to return”155 Breathe I against thee, upon pain of life.MOWBRAY A heavy sentence, my most sovereign liege, And all unlooked-for from your Highness’ mouth. A dearer merit, not so deep a maim As to be cast forth in the common air,160 Have I deservèd at your Highness’ hands. The language I have learnt these forty years, My native English, now I must forgo; And now my tongue’s use is to me no more Than an unstringèd viol or a harp,165 Or like a cunning instrument cased up, Or, being open, put into his hands That knows no touch to tune the harmony. Within my mouth you have enjailed my tongue, Doubly portcullised with my teeth and lips,170 And dull unfeeling barren ignorance Is made my jailor to attend on me. I am too old to fawn upon a nurse, Too far in years to be a pupil now. What is thy sentence ⌜then⌝ but speechless death,175 Which robs my tongue from breathing native breath?KING RICHARD It boots thee not to be compassionate. After our sentence plaining comes too late.
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MOWBRAY Then thus I turn me from my country’s light,180 To dwell in solemn shades of endless night.⌜He begins to exit.⌝KING RICHARD Return again, and take an oath with thee. ⌜To Mowbray and Bolingbroke.⌝ Lay on our royal sword your banished hands.⌜They place their right hands on the hilts of
Richard’s sword.⌝ Swear by the duty that you owe to God—185 Our part therein we banish with yourselves— To keep the oath that we administer: You never shall, so help you truth and God, Embrace each other’s love in banishment, Nor never look upon each other’s face,190 Nor never write, regreet, nor reconcile This louring tempest of your homebred hate, Nor never by advisèd purpose meet To plot, contrive, or complot any ill ’Gainst us, our state, our subjects, or our land.BOLINGBROKE 195I swear.MOWBRAY And I, to keep all this.⌜They step back.⌝BOLINGBROKE Norfolk, so far as to mine enemy: By this time, had the King permitted us, One of our souls had wandered in the air,200 Banished this frail sepulcher of our flesh, As now our flesh is banished from this land. Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm. Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul.MOWBRAY 205 No, Bolingbroke; if ever I were traitor, My name be blotted from the book of life,
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And I from heaven banished as from hence. But what thou art, God, thou, and I do know, And all too soon, I fear, the King shall rue.—210 Farewell, my liege. Now no way can I stray; Save back to England, all the world’s my way.He exits.KING RICHARD, ⌜to Gaunt⌝ Uncle, even in the glasses of thine eyes I see thy grievèd heart. Thy sad aspect Hath from the number of his banished years215 Plucked four away. ⌜To Bolingbroke.⌝ Six frozen winters spent, Return with welcome home from banishment.BOLINGBROKE How long a time lies in one little word! Four lagging winters and four wanton springs220 End in a word; such is the breath of kings.GAUNT I thank my liege that in regard of me He shortens four years of my son’s exile. But little vantage shall I reap thereby; For, ere the six years that he hath to spend225 Can change their moons and bring their times about, My oil-dried lamp and time-bewasted light Shall be extinct with age and endless ⌜night;⌝ My inch of taper will be burnt and done,230 And blindfold death not let me see my son.KING RICHARD Why, uncle, thou hast many years to live.GAUNT But not a minute, king, that thou canst give. Shorten my days thou canst with sullen sorrow, And pluck nights from me, but not lend a morrow.235 Thou canst help time to furrow me with age, But stop no wrinkle in his pilgrimage.
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Thy word is current with him for my death, But dead, thy kingdom cannot buy my breath.KING RICHARD Thy son is banished upon good advice,240 Whereto thy tongue a party verdict gave. Why at our justice seem’st thou then to lour?GAUNT Things sweet to taste prove in digestion sour. You urged me as a judge, but I had rather You would have bid me argue like a father.245 O, had it been a stranger, not my child, To smooth his fault I should have been more mild. A partial slander sought I to avoid, And in the sentence my own life destroyed. Alas, I looked when some of you should say250 I was too strict, to make mine own away. But you gave leave to my unwilling tongue Against my will to do myself this wrong.KING RICHARD, ⌜to Bolingbroke⌝ Cousin, farewell.—And, uncle, bid him so. Six years we banish him, and he shall go.⌜Flourish. King Richard⌝ exits ⌜with his Attendants.⌝AUMERLE, ⌜to Bolingbroke⌝ 255 Cousin, farewell. What presence must not know, From where you do remain let paper show.MARSHAL, ⌜to Bolingbroke⌝ My lord, no leave take I, for I will ride, As far as land will let me, by your side.GAUNT, ⌜to Bolingbroke⌝ O, to what purpose dost thou hoard thy words,260 That thou returnest no greeting to thy friends?BOLINGBROKE I have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongue’s office should be prodigal To breathe the abundant dolor of the heart.
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GAUNT Thy grief is but thy absence for a time.BOLINGBROKE 265 Joy absent, grief is present for that time.GAUNT What is six winters? They are quickly gone.BOLINGBROKE To men in joy; but grief makes one hour ten.GAUNT Call it a travel that thou tak’st for pleasure.BOLINGBROKE My heart will sigh when I miscall it so,270 Which finds it an enforcèd pilgrimage.GAUNT The sullen passage of thy weary steps Esteem as foil wherein thou art to set The precious jewel of thy home return.BOLINGBROKE Nay, rather every tedious stride I make275 Will but remember me what a deal of world I wander from the jewels that I love. Must I not serve a long apprenticehood To foreign passages, and in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else280 But that I was a journeyman to grief?GAUNT All places that the eye of heaven visits Are to a wise man ports and happy havens. Teach thy necessity to reason thus: There is no virtue like necessity.285 Think not the King did banish thee, But thou the King. Woe doth the heavier sit Where it perceives it is but faintly borne. Go, say I sent thee forth to purchase honor, And not the King exiled thee; or suppose290 Devouring pestilence hangs in our air And thou art flying to a fresher clime.
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Look what thy soul holds dear, imagine it To lie that way thou goest, not whence thou com’st. Suppose the singing birds musicians,295 The grass whereon thou tread’st the presence strewed, The flowers fair ladies, and thy steps no more Than a delightful measure or a dance; For gnarling sorrow hath less power to bite300 The man that mocks at it and sets it light.BOLINGBROKE O, who can hold a fire in his hand By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite By bare imagination of a feast?305 Or wallow naked in December snow By thinking on fantastic summer’s heat? O no, the apprehension of the good Gives but the greater feeling to the worse. Fell sorrow’s tooth doth never rankle more310 Than when he bites but lanceth not the sore.GAUNT Come, come, my son, I’ll bring thee on thy way. Had I thy youth and cause, I would not stay.BOLINGBROKE Then, England’s ground, farewell; sweet soil, adieu, My mother and my nurse that bears me yet.315 Where’er I wander, boast of this I can, Though banished, yet a trueborn Englishman.They exit.
Richard II
