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  • Title: Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)
  • Editor: Catherine Lisak
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-436-3

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Catherine Lisak
    Peer Reviewed

    Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)

    The Tragedie of
    Receiue thy launce, and God defend the right.
    Bul. Strong as a tower in hope I cry, Amen.
    400Mart. Go beare this lance to Thomas Duke of Norfolke.
    Herald Harry of Herford, Lancaster, and Darby
    Stands here, for God, his soueraigne, and himselfe,
    On paine to be found false and recreant,
    To proue the Duke of Norfolke Thomas Mowbray
    405A traitor to God, his king, and him,
    And dares him to set forward to the fight.
    Herald 2Here standeth Thomas Mowbray D . of Norfolk
    On paine to be found false and recreant,
    Both to defend himselfe, and to approue
    410Henry of Hereford, Lancaster, and Darby,
    To God, his soueraigne, and to him disloyall,
    Couragiously, and with a free desire,
    Attending but the signall to beginne.
    Mart. Sound trumpets, and set forward Combatants:
    415Stay, the king hath throwen his warder downe.
    King. Let them lay by their helmets, and their speares,
    And both returne backe to their chaires againe,
    Withdraw with vs, and let the trumpets sound,
    While we returne these dukes what we decree.
    Draw neere and list
    What with our counsell we haue done:
    For that our kingdomes earth should not be soild
    With that deare bloud which it hath fostered:
    425And for our eies do hate the dire aspect
    Of cruell wounds plowd vp with neighbours sword,
    426.1And for we thinke the Egle-winged pride
    Of skie-aspiring and ambitious thoughts,
    With riuall hating enuy set on you
    To wake our peace, which in our Countries cradle
    426.5Draw the sweet infant breath of gentle sleepe,
    Which so rouZde vp with boistrous vntunde drummes,
    With harsh resounding trumpets dreadfull bray,
    And grating shocke of harsh resounding armes,
    430Might from our quiet confines fright faire Peace,