BOLINGBROKE

Many years of happy days be fallen, My gracious sovereign my most loving liege. First, heaven be the record to my speech, In the devotion of a subjects love, Tendering the precious safety of my Prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence. Now Thomas Mowbray do I tur to thee, And mark my greeting well: for what I speak My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine so le answer it in heaven: Thou art a traitor and a miscreant, Too good to be so, and too bade to live, Since the more fair and crystal is the sky, The uglier seem the clouds that in it fl e: Once more, the more to aggravate the note, With a foul tram tors name stuff I thy throat, And wish (so please my Sovereign) ere I move, What my tonge speaks, my right drawn sword may prou . Pale trembling coward there I throw my gage, Disclaiming here the kindred of the King, And lay aside my high bloods royalty, Which Fear, not Reverence makes thee to except. If guilty dread have left thee so m ngth, As to take up mine honours pawn stoup, By that, and all the rites of Knighthoo e else, W ll I make good against thee arm to arm, What I have spoke, or thou canst worst devise. Oh God defend my soul from such deep sin, Shall I seem Crestfallen in my father's sighed? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height, Before this out-darde Dastard? ere my tonge Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, Or found so base a parlee, my teeth shall tear The slavish motive of recanting fear, And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, Where Shame does harbour even in Mowbray's face. How long a time lies in one little word. Four lagging winter's and four wanton springs, End in a word, such is the breath of Kings. I have too few to take my leave of you, When the tongues office should be prodigal. To breathe the abundant dolour of the heart. Joy absent, grief is present for that time. How far is it my Lord to Barckly now? Of much less valve is my company, Then your good words. But who comes here? I thank thee gentle Persy, and be sure. I count my self in nothing else so happy, As in a soul remembering my good friends And as my fortune ripens with thy love, It shall be still thy true loves recompense, My heart this covenant makes, my hand thus seals it. Welcome my Lords, I wot your love pursues, A banished traitor: all my treasury Is yet but unfelt thanks, which more enriched Shall be your love and labours recompense. I shall not needs transport my words by you, Here comes his grace in person, my noble Uncle. My gracious Uncle. My gracious Uncle let me know my fault, On what condition stands it and wherein? As I was banished, I was banished Hereford, But as I come, I come for Lancaster. And noble Vnck e I beseech your grace, Look on my wrongs with and indiffere to eye: You are my father, for me thinks in you I see old Gaunt alive. O then my father, Will you permit that I shall stand condemned A wandering vagabond, my rights and royalties Plucked from my arms perforce; and given away To upstarted unthrifts? wherefore was I born? If that my cousin King be King in England, It must be granted I am duke of Lancaster: You have a son, Aumerle, my noble cousin, Had you first died, and he been thus trod down, He should have found his uncle Gaunt a father, To rouse his wrongs and chase them to the bay. I am denied to sue my Livery here, And yet my le ters pa tents give me leave. My father's goods are all strainde and sold, And these, and all, are all amiss employed. What would you have me do? I am a subject And I challenge law, Attorneys are denied me, And therefore personally I lay my claim To my inheritance of free descent. And offer uncle that we will accept, But we must win your Grace to go with us, To Bristol castle, which they say is held By Bushy, Bagot, and their accomplices The caterpillars of the commonwealth, Which I have sworn to weed and pluck away. Bring forth these men. Bushy and Green, I will not vex your souls, Since presently your souls must partly your bodies With too much urging your pernicious lives, For it no charity; yet to wash your blood From off my hands, here in the view of men I will unfold some causes of your death's: You have misled a Prince, a royal King, A happy Gentleman in blood and lineaments, By you unhappied, and disfigured clean, You have in manner with your sinful hours Made a divorce betwixt his Queen and him, Br ke the possession of a royal bed, And stained the beauty of a fair Queens cheeks With tears, drawn from her eyes by your fowl wrongs, My self a Prince, by fortune of my birth, Near to the King in blood, and near in love, Till you did make him misinterpret me, Have stooped my neck under your injuries, And sigh't my English breath In foreign clouds, Eating the bitter bred of banishment, While you have fed upon my seg ories Disparkt my parks, and felled my forest woods, From my own windows torn my household coat, Rac to out my imp eese, leaving me no sign, Save men's opinions, and my living blood, To show the world I am a gentleman. This and much more, much more then twice all this Condemns you to the death: see them delivered over To execution and the hand of death. So that by this intelligence we learn The Welch men are dispersed, and Salisbury Is gone to meet the King, who lately landed With some few private friends upon this coast. Mistake not (uncle) further then you should. I know v cle, and oppose not my self. Against their will. But, who comes here? Welcome Harry; what, will not this castle yield? Royally, why it contains no King. Noble Lords, Go to the rude ribs of that ancient Castle, Through brazen trumpet send the breath of parlee Into his ruinde ears, and thus deliver. H. Bull. on both his knees does kiss king Richard's hand, And sends allegiance and true faith of heart To his most royal person: hither come Even at his feet to lay my arms and power: Provided, that my banishment repealed, And lands restored again be freely granted; If not, I'll use the advantage of my power, And lay the summer's dust with showers of blood, Rainde from the wounds of English men, The which, how off from the mind of Bulling. It is, such crimson to mpest should be drench The fresh green lap of fair King Richard's land: My stooping duty tenderly shall show: Go signify as much while here we march Upon the grassy carpet of this plain; Lets march without the noise of threatening drum, That from this Castles tottered battlements Our fair appointments may be well perused. Me think King Richard and my self should meet With no less terror than the elements Of fire and water, when their thundering shock At meeting tears the cloudy cheeks of heaven. Be he the fire, I'll be the yielding water; The rage be his, while on the earth I reign. My water's on the earth, and not on him. March on, and mark King Richard how he looks, See see King Richard does himself appear. As does the blushing discontented Sun, From out the fiery portal of the East, When he perceives the envious clouds are bent To dim his glory, and to stain the track Of his bright passage to the Occident. What says his majesty? Stand all apart, And show fair duty to his Majesty: My gracious Lord. My gracious Lord, I come but for mine own So far be mine my most redoubted Lord, As my true service shall deserve your love. Call forth Bagot. Now Bagot, freely speak thy mind, What thou dost know of noble Gloucesters death, Who wrought it with the King, and who performed The bloody office of his timeless end. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. Bagot, forbear, thou shalt not take it up. These differences shall all rest under gage, Till Norfolk be repealed, repealed he shall, And though mine enemy, restored again To all his lands and signiories: when he is returned. Against Aumerle we will enforce his trial. Why B. is Norfolk dead? Sweet peace conduct his sweet soul to the bosom, Oh good old Abraham Lords Appellants Your differences shall all rest under gage. Till we assign you to your days of trial. In Gods name I'll ascend the regal throne. Let it be so, and lo on wednesday next, We solemnly proclaim our Coronation, Lords be ready all. Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true, That Mowbray hath receiude eight thousand nobles In name of Lendings for your Highness soldiers, The which he hath de aind for lewd employments, Like a false traitor, and injurious villain: Beside I say, and will in battle prove, Or here, or elsewhere to the fur hest Verge That ever was by English eye, That all the treason, for these eighteen years, Complotted and contrived in this land: Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring, Further I say and further will mai taine Upon his bade life to make all this good, That he did plot the Duke of Gloucesters death, Suggest his soon believing adversaries, And consequently Like a taitour coward, Slucte out his innocent soul through streams of blood, Which blood, Like sacrificing Abel's cries, Even from the tounglesse Caverns of the earth, To me for justice and rough chastisement: And by the glorious worth of my descent, This arm shall do it, or this life be spent. Harry of Herford, Lancaster and Darby Am I, who ready here do stand in Arms To prove by Gods grace, and my bodies 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. Lord Martial, let me kiss my Souereig es hand, And bow my knee before his Majesty, For Mowbray and my self are Like two men, That vow a long and weary pilgrimage, Then let us take a ceremonious leave, And loving fare well of our several friends. Oh let no n ble eye profane a tear For me, if I be go de with Mowbray's spear: As confident as is the Falcons flight Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight. My l ving Lord, I take my leave of the : Of you (my noble cousin) Lord Aumerle, Not sick although I have to do with death, But lusty, young and cheerly drawing breath: Lo, as at English feasts so I regreet The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet. O thou the earthly Author of my blood, Whose youthful spirit in me regenerate Does with a twofold 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 lances point, That it may enter Mowbray's w xen coat, And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt, Even in the lusty haviour of his son. Mine innocence and saint George to thrive. Strong as a tower in hope I cry, Amen. Your will be done; this must my comfort be, That Sun that warms you here, shall shine on me. And those his golden beams to you here lent, Shall point on me, and guild my banishment. I swear. Norfolk, so fare as to mine enemy: By this time, had the King permitted us, One of our souls had wandered in the air Banished this frail sepulchre of our flesh. As now our flesh is banished from this land, Confess thy treasons ere thou fly the realm, Since thou hast far to go, bear not along The clogging burden of a guilty soul. To men in joy, but grief makes one hour ten. My heart will sighs when I miscall it so. Which finds it and info ced pilgrimage. Nay rather every tedious stride I make, Will but remember me what a deal of world: I wander from the Jewels that I love. Must I not see we a long apprentishood, To foreign passages, and in the end, Having my freedom, boast of nothing else, But hat I was a journeyman to grief. O who can hold a fire in his hand, By thinking on the frosty Caucasus? Or cloy the hungry edge of appetite, By bore imagination of a feast? Or wallow naked in December snow, By thinking on fantastic summer's heat? O no, the apprehension of the good. Gives but the greater feeling to the worse: Fell sorrows tooth does never ankle more, Then when he bites, but lanceth not the soar. Then England's ground fare well, sweet soil adieu. My mother and my nurse that bears me yet, Where care I wander boast of this I can, Though banished, yet a true born English man. Evermore thank's the exchequer of the poor. Which till my infant fortune comes to years, Stands for my bounty: but who comes here? My Lord my answer is to Lancaster, And I am come to seek that name in England, And I must find that title in your tongue, Before I make reply to ought you say. My Lord Northumberland, see them dispatched: Uncle, you say the Queen is at your house, For Gods sake fairly let her be entreated, Tell her I send to her my kind commends; Take special care my greetings be delivered Thanks (gentle uncle:) Come Lords, away, To fight with Glendor and his accomplices, A while to work, and after holiday. Yea my good Lord: Can no man tell me of my unthrifty Son ? 'Tis full three months since I did see him last, If any plague h ng over us 'tis he: I wou to God y Lords he might be found: Inquir at London, amongst the Taverns there, For there (they say) he daily does frequent, With unrestrained lose companions, Even such (they say) as stand in narrow lanes, And beat our watch, and ob our passengers, Which he young wanton and effeminate boy, Takes on the point of honour to support so dissolute a crew: As dissolute as desperate, yet through both, I see some sparks of better hope, which elder years, May happily bring forth. But who comes here? What means our cousin, that he stares and looks so wildly. What shrill voice suppliant makes this eager cry? Good aunt stand up. I pardon him with all my heart. But for our trusty brother in law and the Abbot With all the rest of that consorted rew, Destruction strait shall dog them at the heals, Good uncle, help to order several powers, To Oxford, or where ere these traitors are, They shall not live within this world I swear, But I will have them if I once know where. Uncle farewell, and cousin a endue, Your mother well hath prayed, and prove you true. Rise up good aunt.