And craves to kiss your hand and take his leave.

KING RICHARD II	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.

HENRY 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.
	My loving lord, I take my leave of you;
	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,
	Doth 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 lance's point,
	That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat,
	And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt,
	Even in the lusty havior of his son.

JOHN OF GAUNT	God in thy good cause make thee prosperous!
	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:
	Rouse up thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.

HENRY BOLINGBROKE	Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive!

THOMAS MOWBRAY	However God or fortune cast my lot,
	There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
	A loyal, just and upright gentleman:
	Never did captive with a freer heart
	Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
	His golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,
	More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
	This feast of battle with mine adversary.
	Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
	Take from my mouth the wish of happy years:
	As gentle and as jocund as to jest
	Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast.

KING RICHARD II	Farewell, my lord: securely I espy
	Virtue with valour couched in thine eye.
	Order the trial, marshal, and begin.

Lord Marshal	Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
	Receive thy lance; and God defend the right!

HENRY BOLINGBROKE	Strong as a tower in hope, I cry amen.

Lord Marshal	Go bear this lance to Thomas, Duke of Norfolk.

First Herald	Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby,
	Stands here for God, his sovereign and himself,
	On pain to be found false and recreant,
	To prove the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray,
	A traitor to his God, his king and him;
	And dares him to set forward to the fight.

Second Herald	Here standeth Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,
	On pain to be found false and recreant,
	Both to defend himself and to approve
	Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Derby,
	To God, his sovereign and to him disloyal;
	Courageously and with a free desire
	Attending but the signal to begin.

Lord Marshal	Sound, trumpets; and set forward, combatants.

	[A charge sounded]

	Stay, the king hath thrown his warder down.

KING RICHARD II	Let them lay by their helmets and their spears,
	And both return back to their chairs again:
	Withdraw with us: and let the trumpets sound
	While we return these dukes what we decree.

	[A long flourish]

	Draw near,
	And list what with our council we have done.
	For that our kingdom's earth should not be soil'd
	With that dear blood which it hath fostered;
	And for our eyes do hate the dire aspect
	Of civil wounds plough'd up with neighbours' sword;
	And for we think the eagle-winged pride
	Of sky-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
	With rival-hating envy, set on you
	To wake our peace, which in our country's cradle
	Draws the sweet infant breath of gentle sleep;