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,
God of heaven, King Richard and to me;
And as I truly fight, defend me heaven!
On pain of death, no person be so bold
Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists,
Except the marshal and
Appointed to direct these fair designs.
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
loving farewell of our several friends.
The appellant in all duty greets your highness,
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.
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
Against a bird, do I with Mowbray fight.
My loving lord, I take my leave of you;
Of you, my noble cousin,
Not sick, although I have to do with death,
But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.
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
That it may enter Mowbray's waxen coat,
And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt,
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,
Fall like amazing thunder on the casque
Of thy adverse pernicious enemy:
thy youthful blood, be valiant and live.
Mine innocency and Saint George to thrive!
However God or fortune cast my lot,
There lives or dies, true to King Richard's throne,
A loyal, just and
Never did captive with a freer heart
Cast off his chains of bondage and embrace
golden uncontroll'd enfranchisement,
More than my dancing soul doth celebrate
This feast of battle with
Most mighty liege, and my companion peers,
Take from my mouth the wish of happy
As gentle and as jocund as to jest
Go I to fight: truth hath a quiet breast.
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