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And will not let me welcome this good news.

SCENE V.-The Same. The French Camp. Set on toward Swinstead; to my litter straight:

Enter Lewis and his Train. Weakness possesseth me, and I am faint. [Ereunt.

Lew. The sun of heaven, methought, was loath to set, SCENE IV.-The Same. Another Part of the Same. But stay'd, and made the western welkin blush,

Enter SALISBURY, PEMBROKE, Bigot, and Others. When English measur'd backward their own ground, Sal. I did not think the king so stor'd with friends. When with a volley of our needless shot,

In faint retire. O! bravely came we off, Pem. Up once again; put spirit in the French :

After such bloody toil we bid good night, If they miscarry, we miscarry too.

And wound our tattering colours clearly up, Sal. That misbegotten devil, Faulconbridge,

Last in the field, and almost lords of it! In spite of spite, alone upholds the day.

Enter a Messenger.
Pem. They say,king John sore sick hath left the field.

Mess. Where is my prince, the Dauphin?
Enter Melun wounded, and led by Soldiers.

Lew.

Here.- What news? Mel. Lead me to the revolts of England here.

Mess. The count Melun is slain : the English lords, Sal. When we were happy we had other names.

By his persuasion, are again fallen off;
Pem. It is the count Melun.
Sal.

Wounded to death.

And your supplies, which you have wish'd so long, Mel. Fly, noble English; you are bought and sold: Are cast away, and sunk, on Goodwin sands.

Lew. Ah, foul shrewd news!-Beshrew thy very heart! Untread the road-way of rebellion,

I did not think to be so sad to-night, And welcome home again discarded faith.

As this hath made me.

.- Who was he, that said, Seek out king John, and fall before his feet; For if the French be lords of this loud day,

King John did fly an hour or two before He means to recompense the pains you take,

The stumbling night did part our weary powers ?

Mess. Whoever spoke it, it is true, my lord.
By cutting off your heads. Thus hath he sworn,
And I with him, and many more with me,

Lew. Well; keep good quarter, and good care to-night:

The day shall not be up so soon as I,
Upon the altar at Saint Edmund's Bury;
Even on that altar, where we swore to you

To try the fair adventure of to-morrow. [Exeunt. Dear amity and everlasting love.

SCENE VI.-An open Place in the Neighbourhood

of Swinstead-Abbey. Sal. May this be possible ? may this be true ? Mel. Have I not hideous death within my view,

Enter the Bastard and HUBERT, severally. Retaining but a quantity of life,

Hub. Who's there ? speak, ho! speak quickly, or I Which bleeds away, even as a form of wax

shoot. Resolveth from his figure 'gainst the fire ?

Bast. A friend.-What art thou ? What in the world should make me now deceive, Hub.

Of the part of England. Since I must lose the use of all deceit?

Bast. Whither dost thou go? Why should I then be false, since it is true

Hub. What's that to thee? Why may not I demand That I must die here, and live hence by truth? Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine? I say again, if Lewis do win the day,

Bast. Hubert, I think. He is forsworn, if e'er those eyes of yours

Hub.

Thou hast a perfect thought: Behold another day break in the east :

I will, upon all hazards, well believe But even this night, whose black contagious breath Thou art my friend, that know'st my tongue so well. Already smokes about the burving crest

Who art thou? Of the old, feeble, and day-wearied sun,

Bast.

Who thou wilt: and, if thou please, Even this ill night, your breathing shall expire, Thou may'st befriend me so much, as to think Paying the fine of rated treachery,

I come one way of the Plantagenets. Even with a treacherous fine of all your lives,

Hub. Unkind remembrance! thou, and eyeless night, If Lewis by your assistance win the day.

Have done me shame.- Brave soldier, pardon me, Commend me to one Hubert, with your king; That any accent breaking from thy tongue The love of him,-and this respect besides,

Should 'scape the true acquaintance of mine ear. For that my grandsire was an Englishman,

Bast. Come, come; sans compliment, what news Awakes my conscience to confess all this.

abroad? In lieu whereof, I pray you, bear me hence

Hub. Why, here walk 1, in the black brow of night, From forth the noise and rumour of the field;

To find you out. Where I may think the remnant of my thoughts

Bast.

Brief, then; and what's the news? In peace, and part this body and my soul

Hub. 0! my sweet sir, news fitting to the night, With contemplation and devout desires.

Black, fearful, comfortless, and horrible. Sal. We do believe thee, and beshrew my soul, Bast. Show me the very wound of this ill news: But I do love the favour and the form

I am no woman; I'll not swoon at it. Of this most fair occasion, by the which

Hub. The king, I fear, is poison’d by a monk : We will untread the steps of damned flight;

I left him almost speechless, and broke out And, like a bated and retired flood,

To acquaint you with this evil, that you might Leaving our rankness and irregular course,

The better arm you to the sudden time, Stoop low within those bounds we have o'erlook'd, Than if you had at leisure known of this. And calmly run on in obedience,

Bast. How did he take it? who did taste to him ? Even to our ocean, our great king John.

Hub. A monk, I tell you; a resolved villain,
My arm shall give thee help to bear thee hence, Whose bowels suddenly burst out: the king
For I do see the cruel pangs of death

Yet speaks, and, peradventure, may recover.
Bright in thine eye.--Away, my friends! New flight, Bast. Whom didst thou leave to tend his majesty ?
And happy newness, that intends old right.

Hub. Why, know you not? the lords are all come back, [Exeunt, leading off Melun. And brought prince Henry in their company;

At whose request the king hath pardon'd them, And spleen of speed to see your majesty.
And they are all about his majesty.

K. John. O cousin! thou art come to set mine eye.
Bast. 'Withhold thine indignation, mighty heaven, The tackle of my heart is crack'd and burn'd;
And tempt us not to bear above our power.

And all the shrouds, wherewith my life should sail, I'll tell thee, Hubert, half my power this night, Are turned to one thread, one little hair : Passing these flats, are taken by the tide ;

My heart hath one poor string to stay it by, These Lincoln washes have devoured them:

Which holds but till thy news be uttered, Myself well-mounted hardly have escap'd.

And then all this thou seest is but a clod,
Away, before: conduct me to the king;

And model of confounded royalty.
I doubt, he will be dead or ere I come. [Exeunt. Bast. The Dauphin is preparing hitherward,
SCENE VII.—The Orchard of Swinstead-Abbey.

Where, heaven he knows, how we shall answer him;

For, in a night, the best part of my power, Enter Prince HENRY, SALISBURY, and Bigot.

As I upon advantage did remove, P. Hen. It is too late : the life of all his blood Were in the washes, all unwarily, Is touch'd corruptibly; and his pure brain

Devoured by the unexpected flood. [King John dies. (Which some suppose the soul's frail dwelling-house) Sal. You breathe these dead news in as dead an ear.Doth, by the idle comments that it makes,

My liege! my lord !—But now a king, now thus. Foretel the ending of mortality.

P. Hen. Even so st I run on, and even so stop. Enter PEMBROKE.

What surety of the world, what hope, what stay, Pem. His highness yet doth speak; and holds belief, When this was now a king, and now is clay? That being brought into the open air,

Bast. Art thou gone so? I do but stay behind, It would allay the burning quality

To do the office for thee of revenge, Of that fell poison which assaileth him.

And then my soul shall wait on thee to heaven, P. Hen. Let him be brought into the orchard here. As it on earth hath been thy servant still.Doth he still rage?

[Exit Bigot. Now, now, you stars, that move in your right spheres, Pem. He is more patient

Where be your powers? Show now your mended faiths, Than when you left him: even now he sung.

And instantly return with me again,
P. Hen. O, vanity of sickness ! fierce extremes To push destruction, and perpetual shame,
In their continuance will not feel themselves.

Out of the weak door of our fainting land.
Death, having prey'd upon the outward parts, Straight let us seek, or straight we shall be sought:
Leaves them unvisited; and his siege is now

The Dauphin rages at our very heels. Against the mind, the which he pricks and wounds Sal. It seems you know not, then, so much as we. With many legions of strange fantasies,

The cardinal Pandulph is within at rest, Which, in their throng and press to that last hold, Who half an hour since came from the Dauphin, Confound themselves. 'Tis strange that death should And brings from him such offers of our peace sing.

As we with honour and respect may take, I am the cygnet to this pale faint swan,

With purpose presently to leave this war. Who chants a doleful hymn to his own death,

Bast. He will the rather do it, when he sees And from the organ-pipe of frailty sings

Ourselves well sinew'd to our own defence.
His soul and body to their lasting rest.

Sal. Nay, it is in a manner done already;
Sal. Be of good comfort, prince; for you are born For many carriages he hath despatch'd
To set a form upon that indigest,

To the sea-side, and put his cause and quarrel
Which he hath left so shapeless and so rude.

To the disposing of the cardinal : Re-enter Bigor and Attendants : King John brought With whom yourself, myself, and other lords, in in a Chair.

If

you think meet, this afternoon will post K. John. Ay, marry, now my soul hath elbow-room; To consummate this business happily. It would not out at windows, nor at doors.

Bast. Let it be so.—And you, my noble prince, There is so hot a summer in my bosom,

With other princes that may best be spar'd, That all my bowels crumble up to dust:

Shall wait upon your father's funeral. I am a scribbled form, drawn with a pen

P. Hen. At Worcester must his body be interr'd; Upon a parchment, and against this fire

For so he will'd it. Do I shrink up.

Bast.

Thither shall it then. P. Hen. How fares your majesty?

And happily may your sweet self put on K. John. Poison'd, - ill-fare;-dead, forsook, cast off, The lineal state and glory of the land: And none of you will bid the winter come,

To whom, with all submission, on my knee, To thrust his icy fingers in my maw;

I do bequeath my faithful services, Nor let my kingdom's rivers take their course And true subjection everlastingly. Through my burn'd bosom ; nor entreat the north Sal. And the like tender of our love we make, To make his bleak winds kiss my parched lips, To rest without a spot for evermore. And comfort me with cold. I do not ask you much : P. Hen. I have a kind soul, that would give you thanks, I beg cold comfort; and you are so strait,

And knows not how to do it, but with tears. And so ingrateful, you deny me that.

Bast. O! let us pay the time but needful woe, P. Hen. O, that there were some virtue in my tears, Since it hath been before hand with our griefs.That might relieve you!

This England never did, nor never shall, K. John.

The salt in them is hot.- Lie at the proud foot of a conqueror; Within me is a hell; and there the poison

But when it first did help to wound itself. Is, as a fiend, confin'd to tyrannize

Now these, her princes, are come home again,
On unreprievable condemned blood.

Come the three corners of the world in arms,
Enter the Bastard.

And we shall shock them. Nought shall make us rue, Bast. O! I am scalded with my violent motion, If England to itself do rest but true. [Exeunt. THE LIFE AND DEATH

OF

KING RICHARD II. .

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

WATER.

King RICHARD THE Second.

Henry Percy, his Son. EDMUND OF LANGLEY, Duke of York.

LORD Ross. LORD WILLOUGHBY. LORD FitzJohn of GAUNT, Duke of Lancaster. HENRY BOLINGBROKE, Duke of Hereford.

Bishop of CARLISLE. Abbot of Westminster. DUKE OF AUMERLE, Son to the Duke of York.

LORD MARSHAL; and another Lord. Thomas MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk.

Sir PIERCE OF Exton. SiR STEPHEN SCROOP. Duke OF SURREY.

Captain of a Band of Welchmen.
EARL OF SALISBURY. Earl BERKLEY.
Bushy,

Queen to King Richard.
Bagot, Creatures to King Richard.

Duchess or GLOUCESTER. GREEN,

Duchess of York.
EARL of NorthUMBERLAND.

Lady attending the Queen.
Lords, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Gardeners, Keeper, Messenger, Groom, and other Attendants.

SCENE, dispersedly in England and Wales.

}

ACT I. SCENE 1.-London. A Room in the Palace.

Add an immortal title to your crown!

K. Rich. We thank
Enter King Richard, attended; John of Gaunt, and as well appeareth by the cause you come;

both :

you : yet one but flatters us, other Nobles, with him.

Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.K. Rich. Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lan- Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object caster,

Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,

Boling. First, heaven be the record to my speech ! Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son, In the devotion of a subject's love, Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, Which then our leisure would not let us hear,

And free from wrath or misbegotten hate, Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ? Come I appellant to this princely presence.Gaunt. I have, my liege.

Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, If he appeal the duke on ancient malice,

My body shall make good upon this earth, Or worthily, as a good subject should,

Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. On some known ground of treachery in him?

Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant;
Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument, Too good to be so, and too bad to live,
On some apparent danger seen in him,

Since the more fair and crystal is the sky,
Aim'd at your highness; no inveterate malice. The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
K. Rich. Then call them to our presence: face to Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
face,

With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat; And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear And wish, (so please my sovereign) ere I move, Th' accuser, and th' accused, freely speak.

What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may [Exeunt some Attendants.

prove. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,

Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal. In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.

'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
Re-enter Attendants with BOLINGBROKE and NORFOLK. The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,

Boling. Full many years of happy days befal Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain :
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege ! The blood is hot that must be cool'd for this;

Nor. Each day still better other's happiness; Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,

As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say.

your life,

First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou:
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech, Free speech and fearless, I to thee allow.
Which else would post, until it had return'd

Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, These terms of treason doubled down his throat. Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest. Setting aside his high blood's royalty,

Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais, And let him be no kinsman to my liege,

Disburs'd I duly to his highness' soldiers : I do defy him, and I spit at him;

The other part reserv'd I by consent; Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain :

For that my sovereign liege was in my debt, Which to maintain I would allow him odds,

Upon remainder of a clear account, And meet him, were I tied to run a-foot

Since last I went to France to fetch his queen. Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,

Now, swallow down that lie.-For Gloster's death, Or any other ground inhabitable

I slew him not; but to mine own disgrace, Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.

Neglected my sworn duty in that case.Mean time, let this defend my loyalty :

For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.

The honourable father to my foe, Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Once did I lay an ambush for Disclaiming here the kindred of the king ;

A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,

But, ere I last receiv'd the sacrament,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except: I did confess it, and exactly begg'd
If guilty dread have left thee so much strength, Your grace's pardon, and, I hope, I had it.
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop. This is my fault: as for the rest appeald,
By that and all the rites of knighthood else,

It issues from the rancour of a villain,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,

A recreant and most degenerate traitor;
What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. Which in myself I boldly will defend,

Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, And interchangeably hurl down my gage
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, Upon this overweening traitor's foot,
I'll answer thee in any fair degree,

To prove myself a loyal gentleman
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial :

Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom. And, when I mount, alive may I not light,

In haste whereof, most heartily I pray If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!

Your highness to assign our trial day. K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentleman, be rul'd by me. charge?

Let's
purge

this choler without letting blood : It must be great, that can inherit us

This we prescribe, though no physician; So much as of a thought of ill in him.

Deep malice makes too deep incision. Boling. Look, what I speak, my life shall prove it Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed; true :

Our doctors say this is no month to bleed.That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, Good uncle, let this end where it begun; In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers, We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son. The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments, Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age.Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.

Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. Besides, I say, and will in battle prove,

K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge

Gaunt.

When, Harry? when ? That ever was survey'd by English eye,

Obedience bids, I should not bid again. That all the treasons, for these eighteen years

K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; there is no Complotted and contrived in this land,

boot. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. Nor. Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy fuot. Farther, I say, and farther will maintain

My life thou shalt command, but not my shame: Upon his bad life to make all this good,

The one my duty owes; but my fair name, That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; Despite of death that lives upon my grave, Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,

To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. And, consequently, like a traitor coward,

I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here; Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood : Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear; Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,

The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, Which breath'd this poison. To me for justice, and rough chastisement;

K. Rich.

Rage must be withstood. And, by the glorious worth of my descent,

Give me his gage:-lions make leopards tame. This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.

Nor. Yea, but not change his spots : take but my K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars !

shame, Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?

And I resign my gage. My dear, dear lord,
Nor. O! let my sovereign turn away his face, The purest treasure mortal times afford
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,

Is spotless reputation; that away,
Till I have told this slander of his blood,

Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar.

A jewel in a ten times barr'd-up chest
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and ears: Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir, Mine honour is my life; both grow in one :
As he is but my father's brother's son,

Take honour from me, and my life is done.
Now by my sceptre's awe I make a vow,

Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try; Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood

In that I live, and for that will I die. Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize

K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage: do you The unstooping firmness of my upright soul.

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Boling. O! God defend my soul from such deep sin. Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight. Shall I seem crest-fallin in my father's sight? 0! sit my husband's wrongs on Hereford's spear, Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height

That it may enter butcher Mowbray's breast;
Before this outdar'd dastard ? Ere my tongue

Or if misfortune miss the first career,
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, Be Mowbray's sins so heavy in his bosom,
Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear That they may break his foaming courser's back,
The slavish motive of recanting fear,

And throw the rider headlong in the lists,
And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,

A caitiff recreant to my cousin Hereford.
Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. Farewell, old Gaunt: thy sometime brother's wife

[Exit Gaunt. With her companion grief must end her life.
K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command : Gaunt. Sister, farewell: I must to Coventry.
Which since we cannot do to make you friends, As much good stay with thee, as go with me!
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,

Duch. Yet one word more.-Grief boundeth where
At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's day.

it falls, There shall your swords and lances arbitrate

Not with the empty hollowness, but weight: The swelling difference of your settled hate :

I take my leave before I have begun, Since we cannot atone you, we shall see

For sorrow ends not when it seemeth done. Justice design the victor's chivalry.

Commend me to my brother, Edmund York. Lord Marshal, command our officers at arms

Lo! this is all :-nay, yet depart not so;
Be ready to direct these home-alarms. [Exeunt. Though this be all, do not so quickly go;
SCENE II.-The Same. A Room in the Duke of

I shall remember more. Bid him-0! what?-
LANCASTER's Palace.

With all good speed at Plashy visit me.

Alack! and what shall good old York there see,
Enter Gaunt, and Duchess of Gloster.

But empty lodgings and unfurnish'd walls,
Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood Unpeopled offices, untrodden stones?
Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims,

And what hear there for welcome, but my groans ?
To stir against the butchers of his life:

Therefore commend me; let him not come there, But since correction lieth in those hands,

To seek out sorrow that dwells every where. Which made the fault that we cannot correct, Desolate, desperate, will I hence, and die: Put we our quarrel to the will of heaven;

The last leave of thee takes my weeping eye. (Exeunt.
Who when they see the hours ripe on earth,

SCENE III.-Gosford Green, near Coventry.
Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.
Duch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur?

Lists set out, and a Throne. Heralds, 8c., attending.
Hath love in thy old blood no living fire ?

Enter the Lord Marshal, and AUMERLE. Edward's seven sons, whereof thyself art one,

Mar. My lord Aumerle, is Harry Hereford arm’d?
Were as seven phials of his sacred blood,

Aum. Yea, at all points, and longs to enter in.
Or seven fair branches springing from one root: Mar. The duke of Norfolk, sprightfully and bold,
Some of those seven are dried by nature's course, Stays but the summons of the appellant's trumpet.
Some of those branches by the destinies cut;

Aum. Why then, the champions are prepar'd, and stay
But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Gloster, For nothing but his majesty's approach.
One phial full of Edward's sacred blood,

Flourish. Enter King Richard, who takes his seat on
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,

his Throne; Gaunt, Bushy, Bagot, Green, and Is crack’d, and all the precious liquor spilt ;

others, who take their places. A Trumpet is sounded, Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, and answered by another Trumpet within. Then enter By envy's hand, and murder's bloody axe.

Norfolk in armour, preceded by a Herald.
Ah! Gaunt, his blood was thine: that bed, that womb, K. Rich. Marshal, demand of yonder champion
That metal, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee, The cause of his arrival here in arms:
Made him a man; and though thou liv'st, and breath’st, Ask him his name; and orderly proceed
Yet art thou slain in him. Thou dost consent To swear him in the justice of his cause.
In some large measure to thy father's death,

Mar. In God's name, and the king's, say who thou art,
In that thou seest thy wretched brother die,

And why thou com'st thus knightly clad in arms: Who was the model of thy father's life.

Against what man thou com'st, and what thy quarrel. Call it not patience, Gaunt; it is despair:

Speak truly, on thy knighthood, and thine oath, In suffering thus thy brother to be slaughter'd, As so defend thee heaven, and thy valour! Thou show'st the naked pathway to thy life,

Nor. My name is Thomas Mowbray, duke of Norfolk;
Teaching stem murder how to butcher' thee.

Who hither come engaged by my oath,
That which in mean men we entitle patience, (Which, God defend, a knight should violate !)
Is pale cold cowardice in noble breasts.

Both to defend my loyalty and truth,
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, To God, my king, and my succeeding issue,
The best way is to venge my Gloster's death. Against the duke of Hereford that appeals me;

Gaunt. God's is the quarrel; for God's substitute, And, by the grace of God and this mine arm,
His deputy anointed in his sight,

To prove him, in defending of myself, Hath caus'd his death; the which, if wrongfully, A traitor to my God, my king, and me: Let heaven revenge, for I may never lift

And, as I truly fight, defend me heaven! An angry arm against his minister.

Trumpets sound. Enter BOLINGBROKE, in armour,
Duch. Where then, alas ! may I complain myself?

preceded by a Herald.
Gaunt. To God, the widow's champion and defence. K. Rich. Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,
Duch. Why then, I will.–Farewell, farewell, old Both who he is, and why he cometh hither
Gaunt.

Thus plated in habiliments of war;
Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold

And formally, according to our law,

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