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Edward's feven fons, whereof thyfelf art one,
That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breaft!
Gaunt. Sifter, farewell; I must to Coventry :
it falls, Not with the empty hollowness, but weight : I take my leave before I have begun ; For forrow ends not when it seemeth done. Commend me to my 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-oh, what? With all good speed at Plashy visit me. Alack, and what shall good old York there fee 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 sorrow, that dwells every where: Defolate, desolate, will I hence, and die ; The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. [Exeunt.
3 A caitiff recreant-] Caitiff originally fignified a prisoner ; next a flave, from the condition of prisoners; then a scoundrel, from the qualities of a llave.
Ημισυ ής αρετής αποαίνυλαι δόλιον ήμαρ. . In this paflage it partakes of all these significations. JOHNSON,
SCENE SCENE III. .
The lifts, at Coventry.
Enter the lord marshal and 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, sprightfully and bold, Stays but the summons 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 sound, and the king enters with Gaunt,
Busby, Bagot, and others : when they are fet, 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 art?
[To Mowbray. 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 thine oath; And so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! 4 Mowb. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of
* Mowbray.) Mr. Edwards, in his MSS. notes, observes, both from Matthew Paris and Holin shead, that the duke of Hereford, appellant, entered the lifts first; and this indeed must have been the regular method of the combat ; for the natural order of things requires, that the accuser or challenger fhould be at the place of appointment first. STEEVENS.
To God, my king, and his succeeding issues,
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 justice of his cause. Mar. What is thy name? and wherefore com'st
thou hither, Before king Richard, in his roya! lists? [To Boling Against whom comest thou ? and what's thy quarrel? Speak like a true knight; so defend thee heaven!
Boling. Harry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby Am I; who ready here do stand in arms, To prove, by heaven's grace, and my body's valour, In lifts, on Thomas Mowbray duke of Norfolk, That he's a traitor, foul and dangerous, To God of heaven, king Richard, and to me; And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
Mar. 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. Boling. Lord marshal, let me kiss my sovereign's
hand, And bow my knee before his majesty:
- his succeeding ifre,] Such is the reading of the first folio ; the later editions read my issue. Mowbray's issue was, by this accusation, in danger of an attainder, and therefore he "might come, among other reasons, for their fake ; but the old reading is more just and grammatical. JOHNSON.
For Mowbray, and myself, are like two men
[TO K. Rich. And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave.
K. Rich. We will descend and fold him in our arms. Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, So be thy fortune in this royal fight! Farewell, my blood; which if to-day thou shed, Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.
Boling. Oh, let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gor'd with Mowbray's spear. As confident, as is the Faulcon's flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My loving lord, I take my leave of Of you, my noble cousin, lord AuinerleNot sick, although I have to do with death; But lufty, young, and chearly drawing breath.Lo, as at English feasts, fo I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet : Oh thou! the earthly author of my blood, (To Gaunt. Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up To reach at victory above my head, Add proof unto mine armour with thy prayers; And with thy blessings steel my lance's point, That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat, And furbish new the name of John of Gaunt Even in the lufty 'haviour of his son. Gaunt. Heaven in thy good cause make thee pro
fperous ! Be swift like lightning in the execution ; And let thy blows, doubly redoubled, Fall like amazing thunder on the casque Of thy adverse pernicious enemy: Rouze up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live. Boling. Mine innocence, and Saint George to thrive!