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Pierc'd to the soul 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. Mowb. Yea, but not change their spots. Take but

my shame,

And I relign my gage. My dear, dear Lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is spotless Reputation; That away,
Men are but guilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times-barr’d-up chest,
Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Mine Honour is my life, both grow in one;
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. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you

begin, Boling. Oh, heav'n defend my soul from such foul sin! Shall I seem crest-fall’n in my father's fight, • Or with pale beggar face impeach my height, Before this out-dar'd Daftard ? Ere my tongue Shall wound my Honour with such feeble wrong, Or found so base a parle, my teeth shall tear 7 The slavish motive of recanting fear, And spit it bleeding, in his high disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, ev’n in Mowbray's face.

[Exit Gaunt, K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command, Which since we cannot do to make

you

friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry upon Saint Lambert's day.

Or with pale beggar fạce] ? The slavish motive---] Mo. i. e. with a face of fupplication. tive, for initrument.

WARB. But this will not satisfy the Ox Rather that which fear

puts

in ford Editor, he turns it to bag- motion. gard fear. WAR EURTON.

There

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There shall your Swords and Lances arbitrate
The swelling diff'rence of your fettled hate. .
Since we cannot atone you, you shall see
Justice decide the Victor's Chivalry.
Lord Marshal, bid our officers at Arms
Be ready to direct thefe home-alarins, [Exeunta

SCENE III.

A

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Changes to the Duke of Lancaster's Palace.

Enter Gaunt and Dutchess of Gloucester. Gaunt, Las! * the part I had in Gloster's blood

Doth more follicit me, than your Ex

claims,
To stir against the butchers of his life.
But since correction lyeth in those hands,
Which made the fault that we cannot correct,
Put we our Quarrel to the Will of heav'n;
Who when it fees the hours ripe on earth,
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.

Dutch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire?
Edward's fev'n fons, whereof thy self art one,
Were as sev'n vials of his sacred blood;
Or sev’n fair branches, springing from one root:
Some of those fev'n are dry'd by Nature's Course;
Some of those branches by the Dest’nies cut :
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster,
One vial, full of Edward's facred blood,
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,
Is crack’d, and all the precious liquor spilt;
Is lackt 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 metal, that self-mould that fashion'd thee;

* The part I had.] That is, my relation of consanguinity to Gloucester.

HANMER.

Made

Made him a man; and though thou liv'st and breath'st,
Yet art thou slain in him; thou dost consent
In some 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 suff'ring thus thy brother to be laughter’d,
Thou shew'st the naked pathway to thy life,
Teaching stern murther how to butcher thee.
That which in mean men we entitle Patience,
Is pale cold Cowardise in noble breasts,
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
The best way is to 'venge my Gloster's death.

Gaunt. God's is the Quarrel; for God's Substitute,
His Deputy anointed in his sight,
Hath caus'd his death; the which if wrongfully,
Let God revenge, for I may never lift
An angry arm against his Minister.

Dutch. Where then, alas, may I complain myself? Gaunt. To heav'n, the widow's Champion and De

fence. Dutch. Why then, I will: farewel, old Gaunt, farewel. Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Our Cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. O, sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast! Or, if misfortune miss the first career, Be Mowbray's fins so heavy in his bosom, That they may break his foaming Courser's back, And throw the rider headlong in the lists,

A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford! Farewel, old Gaunt; thy sometime brother's wife With her companion Grief must end her life.

8 A caitiff recreant-] Cai Ημισυ της αρετής αποαίνεται δύλιον tif originally signified a prisoner; ήμαρ. . next a save, from the condition In this passage it partakes of of prisoners; then a scoundrel, all these significations. from the qualities of a flave.

Gaunt.

Gaunt. Sister, farewel; I must to Coventry. As much Good stay with thee, as go with me; Dutch. Yet one word more grief boundeth where

it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: I take my leave, before I have begun; For Sorrow ends not, when it feemeth done. Commend me to my brother, Edmund York: Lo, this is all ----- nay, yet depart not fo; Though this be all, do not fo quickly go: I shall remember more. Bid him--oh, what? With all good speed at Plashie visit me. Alack, and what shall good old York fee there But empty lodgings, and unfurnish'd walls, Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? And what hear there for welcome, but my groans? Therefore commend me let him not come there To seek out forrow that dwells every where; All defolate, will I from hence, and die; The last Leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

The Lists, at Coventry,

Enter the Lord-Marshal, and Aumerle.

MY

Mar.

Y lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm’d?
Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs ta

enter in.
Mar. The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
Stays but the Summons of th’Appellant's trumpet.
Aum. Why, then the Champions are prepard, and

stay For nothing but his Majesty's approach. [Flourish.

The

art?

The trumpets found, and the King enters with Gaunt,

Bushy, Bagot, and others : when they are set, Enter the Duke of Norfolk in armour.

K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder Champion The cause of his arrival here in arms; Ask him his name, and orderly proceed To swear him in the justice of his Cause. Mar. In God's name and the King's, say who thou

[To Mowbray.
And why thou com'ít, thus knightly clad in arms?
Against what man thou com’st, and what thy quarrel?
Speak truly on thy Knighthood, and thine Oath,
And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour!
Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of

Norfolk,
Who hither come engag'd by my oath,
(Which, heav'n defend, a Knight should violate!)
Both to defend my Loyalty and Truth,
To God, my King, and his 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;
And, as I truly fight, defend me heav'n!

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,

his succeeding Ifjue,] er, and therefore he might come Such is the reading of the first among other reasons for their folio; the later editions read my 'fake, but the old reading is more Iffue. Mowbray's Ifue was, by this juft and grammatical. accusation, in danger of an attaind

Depose

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