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I do pronounce before you all,

This treach'rous Lord that's here, A Traytor to our Noble King;

As Time shall shew it clear.

The Duke of Hereford hearing that,

In Mind was grieved much; And did return this Answer flat,

Which did Duke Norfolk touch :

The Term of Traytor, truthless Duke,

In Scorn and great Disdain, With flat Defiance to thy Face,

I do return again :

And therefore, if it please your Grace

To grant me Leave (quoth he) To combat with my deadly Foe,

That here accuseth me;

I do not doubt but plainly prove,

That, like a perjur'd Knight,
He hath moft falfly sought my Shame,

Against all Truth and Right

The King did grant this just Request,

And did therewith agree, At Coventry, in Augull next,

This Combat fought should be.

The Dukes on fundry Steeds full stout,

In Coats of Steel moft bright,
With Spears in Rests, did enter Lifts,

This Combat fierce to fight.


The King then cast his Wardens down,

Commanding them to stay;
And with his Lords he Counsel took,

To stint that mortal Fray.

At length unto these Noble Dukes

The King of Heralds came,
And unto them, with lofty Speech,

This Sentence did proclaim:

Sir Henry Bolingbroke, this Day,

The Duke of Hereford, here,
And Thomas Mowbray, Norfolk Duke,

Valiantly did appear ;

And having, in honourable Sort,

Repaired to this place;
Our Noble King, for special Cause,

Hath alter'd thus the Case:

First, Henry Duke of Hereford,

E're Fifteen Days be past,
Shall part the Realm on Pain of Death,

While Ten Years Space doth last.

And Thomas Duke of Norfolk, now,

That hath begun this Strife,
And thereof no good Proof can bring ;

I say, for Term of Life,

By Judgment of our Sovereign Lord,

Which now in Place doth stand, For evermore I banish thee

Out of thy Native Land.

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Charging thee, on Pain of Death,

When Fifteen Days are past,
Thou never tread on English Ground,

So long as Life doth last.

Thus they were sworn before the King,

E're they did farther pass,
The one should never come in Place

Where as the other was.

Then both the Dukes, with heavy Hearts,

Were parted presently,
Their uncouth Streams of froward Chance

In Foreign Lands to try.

The Duke of Norfolk coming then

Where he could Shipping take,
The bitter Tears fell down his Cheeks,

And thus his Moan did make :

Now let me sigh and sob my Fill,

E're I from hence depart,
That inward Pangs with Speed may burst

My sore afflicted Heart.

Oh cursed Man! whose loathed Life

Is held so much in Scorn; Whose Company is clean despis'd,

And left as one forlorn !

Now take thy Leave, and last Adieu,

Of this thy Country dear;
Which never more thou must behold,

Nor yet approach it near.


Now happy should I count my self,

If Death my Heart had torn;
That I might have my Bones entomb'd,

Where I was bred and bom :

Or that by Neptune's wrathful Rage,

I might be forc'd to dye ;
Whilst that sweet England's pleasant Banks

Did stand before mine Eye :

Within my

How sweet a Scent hath English Ground

Senses now?
How fair unto my outward Sight

Seems ev'ry Branch and Bough?

The Fields and Flow'rs, the Streets and Stones,

Seem such unto my Mind, That in all other Countries, sure,

The like I ne're shall find.

O that the Sun, with shining Face,

Would stay his steeds by Strength; That this same Day might stretched be

To Twenty Years in Length !

And that the true-performing Tide

Her hasty Course would stay ; That Æolus would never yield

To bear me hence away.

That by the Fountain of my Eyes

The Fields might water'd be;
That I might grave my grievous plaint

Upon each springing Tree.

But Time, I fee, with Eagle's Wings

So swift doth fly away;
And dusky Clouds begin to dim

The Brightness of the Day:

The fatal Hour draweth on,

The Winds and Tides agree; And now, sweet England, over Sea,

I must depart from thee.

The Mariners have hoisted Sail,

And call to catch me in ;
And now, in woful Heart, I feel

My Torments to begin.

Wherefore, Farewel for evermore,

Sweet England, unto thee;
And farewel, all my Friends, which I

Again shall never see.

O England, here I kiss the Ground

Upon my bended Knee ! Whereby to shew to all the World

How dearly I love thee.

This being said, away he went

As Fortune did him guide;
And at the length, thro' Grief of Heart,

In Venice there he dy'd.

The Noble Duke, in doleful Sort,

Did lead his Life in France; And, at the last, the mighty Lord

Did him full high advance.


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