Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, Since laft I went to France to fetch his Queen. Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bofom, Your Highness to affign our trial-day. K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me; Let's purge this choler without letting blood. * Good uncle, let this end where it begun : We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your fon. Gaunt. To be a make-peace 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 fhould not bid again. without letting blood. This we prefcribe, though no phyfician; K. Rich. K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no 'boot. Mowb. Myfelf I throw, dread Sovereign, at thy foot. My life thou fhalt command, but not my shame; The one my duty owes; bur my fair name, (Defpight of death, that lives upon my grave), To dark dishonour's ufe thou shalt not have. I am difgrace'd, impeach'd, and baffled here, Pierce'd to the foul with flander's venom'd fpear: The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood Which breath'd this poifon. K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame. And I refign my gage. My dear, dear Lord, Is fpotless reputation; that away, Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. Mine honour is my life, both grow in one; K. Rich. Coufin, throw down your gage; do you begin. Boling. Oh, heaven defend my foul from fuch foul fin! Shall I feem creft-fall'n in my father's fight, Or with pale beggar face impeach my height, Before this out-dar'd daftar'd? Ere my tongue Shall wound my honour with fuch feeble wrong, Or found fo bafe a parle, my teeth fhall tear The flavish motive of recanting fear, And fpit it bleeding, in his high difgrace, Where fhame doth harbour, ev'n 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 anfwer it, At Coventry upon Saint Lambert's day. * Motive, for inftrument. 2 There There fhall your fwords and lances arbitrate [Exeunt. Changes to the Duke of Lancaster's palace. Enter Gaunt, and Duchefs of Gloucester. Gaunt, Alas! the part I had in Glo'fter's blood * Doth more folicit me than your exclaims, To tir against the butchers of his life. But fince correction lieth in thofe 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. Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no fharper fpur? Or fev'n fair branches fpringing from one root: One flourishing branch of his moft Royal root), Ah, Gaunt ! his blood was thine! that bed, that womb, * Meaning the relation he had to it, In In fuff'ring thus thy brother to be flaughter'd,) Gaunt. God's is the quarrel; for God's fubftitute, His deputy anointed in his fight, Hath caus'd his death: the which if wongfully, An angry arm against his minifter. Dach. Where then, alas, may I complain myself? Gaunt. To Heav'n, the widow's champion and de fence. [wel. Duch. Why then, I will: farewel, old Gaunt, fareThou go't 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! Farewel, old Gaunt; thy fometime * brother's wife With her companion Grief muft end her life. Gaunt. Sifter, farewel; I must to Coventry. As much good fay with thee, as go with me! Duch. Yet one word more; grief boundeth where it Not with the empty hollownefs, but weight: [falls, I take my leave before I have begun ; For forrow ends not when it feemeth done.' oh, what?? With all good fpeed at Plafhie vifit me. * i. e. formerly. Unpeopled Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones? And what hear there for welcome, but my groans [Exeunt. SCENE IV. The lifts at Coventry. Enter the Lord Marshal, and the Duke of 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. The trumpets found, and the King enters with his Nobles: when they are fet, enter the Duke of Norfolk in arms, defendant. T K. Rich. Marfhal, demand of yonder champion Y The caufe of his arrival here in arms; Afk him his name, and orderly proceed To fwear him in the juftice of his cause. art? Mar. In God's name and the King's, fay who thou [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 Heav'n, and thy valour! Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Nor- A traitor to my God, my King, and me; |