Page 2872 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

MARSHAL

On pain of death, no person be so bold
Or daring-hardy as to touch the lists
Except the Marshal and such officers
Appointed to direct these fair designs. [45]

BOLINGBROKE

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.

MARSHAL

The appellant in all duty greets your highness
And craves to kiss your hand, and take his leave.

RICHARD

We will descend and fold him in our arms.
Cousin of Hereford, as thy cause is right, [55]
So be thy fortune in this royal fight!
Farewell, my blood - which if today thou shed,
Lament we may, but not revenge thee dead.

BOLINGBROKE

O, let no noble eye profane a tear
For me, if I be gor’d with Mowbray’s spear! [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, [65]
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 [70]
Doth with a two-fold vigour lift me up
To reach at victory above my head,