_The trumpets sound. Enter_ BOLINGBROKE, _Appellant, in armour, with a_ Herald.
_K. Rich._ Marshal, ask yonder knight in arms,[821] Both who he is and why he cometh hither Thus plated in habiliments of war,[822] And formally, according to our law,[823] Depose him in the justice of his cause. 30
_Mar._ What is thy name? and wherefore comest thou hither, Before King Richard in his royal lists? Against whom comest thou? and what's thy quarrel?[824] Speak like a true knight, so defend thee heaven!
_Boling._ Harry of Hereford, Lancaster and Derby[825] 35 Am I; who ready here do stand in arms,[826] To prove, by God's grace and my body's valour,[827] In lists, on Thomas Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk,[828] That he is a traitor, foul and dangerous,[829] To God of heaven, King Richard and to me; 40 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,[830] Except the marshal and such officers Appointed to direct these fair designs. 45
_Boling._ 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 50 And loving farewell of our several friends.
_Mar._ The appellant in all duty greets your highness,[831] 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,[832] 55 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.[833]
_Boling._ O, let no noble eye profane a tear For me, if I be gored with Mowbray's spear:[834] 60 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,[835] 65 But lusty, young, and cheerly drawing breath.[835][836] Lo, as at English feasts, so I regreet[835] The daintiest last, to make the end most sweet:[835][837] O thou, the earthly author of my blood,[838] Whose youthful spirit, in me regenerate, 70 Doth with a twofold vigour lift me up[839] To reach at victory above my head,[840] 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,[841] 75 And furbish new the name of John a Gaunt,[842] Even in the lusty haviour of his son.[843]