Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight.

O, set 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 sins 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!

Farewell, old Gaunt. Thy sometimes brother’s wife

With her companion, grief, must end her life.

JOHN OF GAUNT

Sister, farewell. I must to Coventry.

As much good stay with thee as go with me.

DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER

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 seemeth done.

Commend me to thy brother, Edmund York.

Lo, this is all.—Nay, yet depart not so!

Though this be all, do not so quickly go.

I shall remember more. Bid him—ah, what?—

With all good speed at Pleshey visit me.

Alack, and what shall good old York there see

But empty lodgings and unfurnished 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 sorrow that dwells everywhere.

Desolate, desolate will I hence and die.

The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye.

Exeunt ⌈severally⌉

1.3 Enter Lord Marshal [with officers setting out chairs], and the Duke of Aumerle

LORD MARSHAL

My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford armed?

AUMERLE

Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.

LORD MARSHAL

The Duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,

Stays but the summons of the appellant’s trumpet.

AUMERLE

Why then, the champions are prepared, and stay

For nothing but his majesty’s approach.

The trumpets sound, and King Richard enters, with John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, ⌈Bushy, Bagot, Green,] and other nobles. When they are set, enter Mowbray Duke of Norfolk, defendant, in arms, Fand a Herald]

KING RICHARD

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.

LORD MARSHAL (to Mowbray)

In God’s name and the King‘s, say who thou art,

And why thou com’st thus knightly clad in arms,

Against what man thou com’st, and what thy

quarrel.

Speak truly on thy knighthood and thy oath,

As so defend thee heaven and thy valour!

MOWBRAY

My name is Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

Who hither come engaged by my oath—

Which God defend a knight should violate—

Both to defend my loyalty and truth

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.

And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

⌈He sits.⌉

The trumpets sound. Enter Bolingbroke Duke of Hereford, appellant, in armour, ⌈and a Herald⌉

KING RICHARD

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 justice of his cause.

LORD 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

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 valour

In lists on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,

That he is a traitor foul and dangerous

To God of heaven, King Richard, and to me.

And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!

⌈He sits⌉

LORD MARSHAL

On pain of death, no person be so bold

Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists

Except the Marshal and such officers

Appointed to direct these fair designs.

BOLINGBROKE ⌈standing⌉

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;

Then let us take a ceremonious leave

And loving farewell of our several friends.

LORD MARSHAL (to King Richard)

The appellant in all duty greets your highness,

And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.

KING RICHARD

We will descend and fold him in our arms.

He descends from his seat and embraces Bolingbroke

Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is just,

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 tear

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.