torians; it being pretty clear that he was not distinguished by the name of Bolingbroke till after he had assumed the crown. Drayton states this without any qualification. We must, however, follow the poet in calling him Bolingbroke. It is somewhat difficult to understand the original cause of the quarrel between Bolingbroke and Norfolk. They were each elevated in rank at the Christmas of 1398, probably with the view, on the part of Richard, to propitiate men of such power and energy. They were the only two who remained of the great lords who, twelve years before, had driven Richard's favourites from his court and kingdom, and had triumphantly asserted their resistance to his measures at the battle of Radcot Bridge. The Duke of Gloster, the uncle of the king, with whose party Bolingbroke and Norfolk had always been confederated, was murdered at Calais, in 1398. Bolingbroke, in the same year, had received a full pardon in parliament for his proceedings in 1386. "In this parliament, holden at Shrewsbury," says Holinshed, "Henry Duke of Hereford accused Thomas Mowbray of certain words, which he should utter in talk, had betwixt them as they rode together lately before, betwixt London and Brainford, sounding highly to the king's dis honour." Froissart (we quote from Lord Berners' translation) gives a different version of the affair, and says "On a day the Earl of Derby and the Earl Marshal communed together of divers matters; at last, among other, they spake of the state of the king and of his council, such as he had about him, and believed them; so that, at the last, the Earl of Derby spake certain words which he thought for the best, wenynge that they should never have been called to rehearsal, which words were neither villainous nor outrageous." Froissart then goes on to make the Earl Marshal repeat these words to the king, and Derby to challenge him as a false traitor, after the breach of confidence. Shakspere has followed Holi,shed. The accusation of Bolingbroke against Norfolk was first made, according to this chronicler, at Shrewsbury; and "there was a day appointed, about six weeks after, for the king to come unto Windsor, to hear and to take some order betwixt the two dukes which had thus appealed each other." The scene then proceeds in the essential matters very much as is exhibited by Shak. spere, except that the appellant and defendant each speak by the mouth of a knight that had "license to speak." Norfolk is accused of being a false and disloyal traitor-of appropriating eight thousand nobles, which he had received to pay the king's soldiers at Calais-of being the occasion of all the treason contrived in the realm for eighteen years-and, by his false suggestions and malicious counsels, having caused the Duke of Gloster to be murdered. Norfolk, in the answer by his knight, declares that Henry of Lancaster hath "falsely and wickedly lied as a false and disloyal knight;" and he then, in his own person, adds the explanation which Shakspere gives about the use of the money for Calais. The chronicler, however, makes him say not a word about Gloster's death; but he confesses that he once "laid an ambush to have slain the Duke of Lancaster that there sitteth." The king once again requires them to be asked, if they would agree and make peace together; "but they both flatly answered that they would not; and withal the Duke of Hereford cast down his gage, and the Duke of Norfolk took it up. The king, perceiving this demeanour betwixt them, sware by St. John Baptist, that he would never seek to make peace betwixt them again." The combat was then appointed to be done at Coventry, "some say upon a Monday in August; other, upon St. Lambert's day, being the 17th September; other, on the 11th September." The narrative of Holinshed upon which Shakspere has founded the third Scene of this Act is most picturesque. We see all the gorgeous array of chivalry, as it existed in an age of pageants, called forth with unusual magnificence upon an occasion of the gravest import. The old stage of Shakspere's time could exhibit none of this magnificence. The great company of men apparelled in silk sendall— the splendid coursers of the combatants, with their velvet housings-the king on his throne, surrounded by his peers and his ten thousand men in armourall these were to be wholly imagined upon the ancient stage. Our poet, in his chorus to Henry V. thus addresses his audience : "Piece out our imperfections with your thoughts; And make imaginary puissance : Think, when we talk of horses, that you see them Printing their proud hoofs i'the receiving earth." To assist our readers in seeing the "imaginary puissance" of the lists of Coventry, we subjoin Holinshed's description: "The Duke of Aumerle, that day, being high constable of England, and the Duke of Surry, marshal, placed themselves between them. well armed and appointed; and when they saw their time, they first entered into the lists with a great company of men apparelled in silk sendall, embroidered with silver, both richly and curiously, every man having a tipped staff to keep the field in order. About the hour of prime came to the barriers of the lists, the Duke of Hereford, mounted on a white courser barded with green and blue velvet, embroidered sumptuously with swans and antelopes of goldsmith's work, armed at all points. The constable and marshal came to the barriers, demanding of him what he was, he answered 'I am Henry of Lancaster Duke of Hereford, which am come hither to do mine endeavour against Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk, as a traitor untrue to God, the king, his realm, and me.' Then, incontinently, he sware upon the holy evangelists, that his quarrel was true and just, and upon that point he required to enter the lists. Then he put by his sword, which before he held naked in his hand, and, putting down his visor, made a cross on his horse, and with spear in hand entered into the lists, and descended from his horse, and set him down in a chair of green velvet, at the one end of the lists, and there reposed himself, abiding the coming of his adversary. "Soon after him, entered into the field with great triumph, King Richard, accompanied with all the peers of the realin, and in his company was the Earl of St. Paul, which was come out of France in post to see this challenge performed. The king had there above ten thousand men in armour, least some fray or tumult might rise amongst his nobles, by quarrelling or partaking. When the king was set in his seat, which was richly hanged and adorned, a king-at-arms made open proclamation, prohibiting all men, in the name of the king, and of the high constable and marshal, to enterprise or attempt to approach, or touch any part of the lists upon pain of death, except such as were appointed to order or marshal the field. The proclamation ended, another herald cried: 'Behold here Henry of Lancaster Duke of Hereford appellant, which is entered into the lists royal to do his devoir against Thomas Mowbray Duke of Norfolk defendant, upon pain to be found false and recreant.' "The duke of Norfolk hovered on horseback at the entrance of the lists, his horse being barded with crimson velvet, embroidered richly with lions of silver and mulberry trees; and when he had made his oath before the constable and marshal that his quarrel was just and true, he entered the field manfully, saying aloud: God aid him that hath the right,' and then he departed from his horse, and sate him down in his chair, which was of crimson velvet, curtained about with white and red dainask. The lord marshal viewed their spears, to see that they were of equal length, and delivered the one spear himself to the duke of Hereford, and sent the other unto the duke of Norfolk by a knight. Then the herald proclaimed that the traverses and chairs of the champions should be removed, commanding them on the king's behalf to mount on horseback, and address themselves to the battle and combat. "The duke of Hereford was quickly horsed, and closed his beaver, and cast his spear into the rest, and when the trumpet sounded, set forward cou rageously towards his enemy, six or seven paces. The duke of Norfolk was not fully set forward, when the king cast down his warder, and the heralds cried,Ho, ho!' Then the king caused their spears to be taken from them, and commanded them to repair again to their chairs, where they remained two long hours, while the king and his council deliberately consulted what order was best to be had in so weighty a cause." The sentence of Richard upon Bolingbroke and Norfolk was, in effect, the same as Shakspere has described it; but the remission of a portion of the term of Bolingbroke's banishment did not take place at the lists of Coventry. Froissart says, that when Bolingbroke's day of departure approached, he came to Eltham, to the king, who thus addressed him:-"As God help me, it right greatly displeaseth me the words that hath been between you and the earl marshal; but the sentence that I have given is for the best, and for to appease thereby the people, who greatly murmured on this matter; wherefore, cousin, yet to ease you somewhat of your pain, I release my judgment from ten year to six year. Cousin, take this aworth, and ordain you thereafter." The earl answered and said; "Sir, I thank your grace, and when it shall please you, ye shall do me more grace." We subjoin a copy of the illumination of Richard pronouncing sentence of banishment, from the MS. Froissart, in the British Museum. The costume in this and other engravings from the same source, is of a later period than that of Richard II. Act II.] KING RICHARD II. Direct not him, whose way himself will choose; 'Tis breath thou lack'st, and that breath wilt thou lose. Gaunt. Methinks, I am a prophet new inspir'd; And thus, expiring, do foretell of him: His rash fierce blaze of riot cannot last; He tires betimes, that spurs too fast betimes; envy of less happier lands; England, This nurse, this teeming womb of royal kings, a Infection. All the ancient copies read infection. In England's Parnassus (1600), where the passage is quoted, we read intestion. Farmer suggested the substitution of infestion, which Malone has adopted, and which we thought right to follow in our first edition. Infection, in Shakspere's time, was used, as it is now, to express the taint of some pernicious quality; and was more particularly applied to that frightful disease, the plague, to whose ravages London was annually subject. It appeared to us, therefore, that to call England "This fortress, built by nature for herself, would require some explanation to an audience who were Which serves it in the office of a wall," a word of which there can be no doubt of the meaning, is to be preferred, if we can be content to receive the idea in a limited sense-that the sea in some sort kept out pestilence, though not absolutely. Perhaps an audience of Shakspere's time might so understand it, in the same way that quarantine was trusted in to keep out the plague. Like to a tenement, or pelting farm : York. The king is come: deal mildly with his For young hot colts, being rag, do rage the more. Queen. How fares our noble uncle, Lancaster? K. Rich. What comfort, man? How is 't with aged Gaunt ? Gaunt. O, how that name befits my compo.. Old Gaunt, indeed; and gaunt in being old : Is my strict fast,-I mean my children's looks; their names? Gaunt. No, misery makes sport to mock itself: that live ? Gaunt. No, no; men living flatter those that die. Pelling. Whatever doubts there may be as to the origin of this word, its application is perfectly clear. It invariably means something petty-of little worth. The "pelting farm of Lear, in this passage, and "the poor pelting villages would leave no doubt as to its use, even if we had not "a pelting little town," and "a pelting village of barbarous people," in North's "Plutarch." The epithet was not confined to inanimate things. In Measure for Measure we have the famous passage: "Could great men thunder As Jove himself does, Jove would ne'er be quiet, Would use his heaven for thunder." Gabriel Harvey, it seems, wrote the word paulting; and as 105 K. Rich. Thou, now a dying, say'st thou flatter'st me. Gaunt. Oh! no; thou diest, though I the sicker be. K. Rich. I am in health, I breathe, and see thee ill. Gaunt. Now, he that made me, knows I see Ill in myself to see, and in thee seeing ill. That thou respect'st not spilling Edward's blood: These words hereafter thy tormentors be!— For both hast thou, and both become the grave. York. I do beseech your majesty, impute his words b To wayward sickliness and age in him: K. Rich. Right; you say true: as Hereford's love, so his : As theirs, so mine; and all be as it is. Enter NORTHUMBERLAND. North. My liege, old Gaunt commends him to your majesty. K. Rich. What says he?° North. Nay, nothing; all is said: His tongue is now a stringless instrument; Words, life, and all, old Lancaster hath spent. York. Be York the next that must be bankrupt so! Though death be poor, it ends a mortal woe. His time is spent, our pilgrimage must be: Shall tender duty make me suffer wrong? wrongs, Nor the prevention of poor Bolingbroke a Crooked age. It has been suggested, that age here means Time; and that crooked age is not bending age, but Time armed with a crook, by which name a sickle was anciently called. The natural meaning of the passage seems to be, like bent old age, which crops the flower of life. b Steevens struck out I do from this line. e Steevens stuck in now, to make ten syllables of this line. |