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The uglier feem the Clouds, that in it fly.
(Which fear, not rev' fence, makes thee to except :)
Mowb. I take it up, and by that Sword I swear,
degree, Or chivalrous design of knightly tryal; And when I mount, alive may I not light, If I be traitor, or unjustly fight! K. Rich. What doth our Cousin lay to Mowbray's
charge? It must be great, that can inherit us So much as of a thonght of Ill in him.
Boling. Look, what I said, my life fhall prove it true; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, In name of lendings for your Highness' foldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd imployments ; Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides, I say, and will in battel prove, Or here, or elsewhere, to the furthest verge, That ever was survey'd by English eye ; That all the treasons for these eighteen years, Complotted and contrived in this Land, Fetch from falle Mowbray their first head and spring. Further, I say, and further will maintain Upon his bad Life to make all This good, That he did plöt the Duke of Gloucester's death ; Suggest his ivon-believing adverfaries ; And confcquently like a traitor-coward, Sluic'd out his inn'cent soul through streams of blood ; Which blood; like facrificing Abel's, cries Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, 'To me, for juitice, and rough chastisement. And by the glorious Worth of my Descent, This arm fhall do it, or this life be spent.
K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution foars ! Ibomas of Norfolk, what fay'it thou to this?
Moub. . .)
Mowb. O, let my Sovereign turn away his face,
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears.
Mowb. Then, Boling broke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat, thou lieft! Three parts of that Receipt I had for Calais, Disburst I to his Highness' soldiers ; The other part reserv'd I by consent, For that my sovereign Liege was in my debt; Upon remainder of a dear account, Since last I went to France to fetch his Queen. Now, swallow down that Lie.--For Gloucester's death, I flew him not; but, to mine own disgrace, Neglected my sworn duty in that case, For you, my noble lord of Lancaster, The honourable father to my foe, Once did I lay an ambush for your life, A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul ; But ere I last receiv'd the Sacrament, I did confess it, and exactly begg'd Your Grace's pardon ; and, I hope, I had it: This is my fault; as for the rest appeal'd, It issues from the rancor of a villain, A recreant and most degen’rate traitor: Which in my self I boldly will defend, And interchangeably hurle down my gage Upon this overweening traitor's foot; To prove my self a loyal gentleman, Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom.
In hafte whereof, most heartily I pray
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen, be ruld by me;
Gaunt. To be a make-peace shall become my age ; Throw down, my Son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage.
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his.
Gaunt. When, Harry, when ? Obedience bids, I should not bid again. K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down, we bid ; there is no
boot. Mowb. My felf I throw, dread Sovereign, at thy foot. My life thou shalt command, but not my Shame; The one my duty owes ; but my fair Name, (Despight of death, That lives upon my Grave,) To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have. I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here, Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear : The which no balme can cure, but his heart-blood Which breath'd this poison.
K. Rich. Rage must be withstood:
in one ;
R. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage;
you begin. Boling. Oh, heav'n defend my soul from such foul fin! Snall I feem crest-fallin in my father's fight, Or with pale beggar face impeach my height. Before this out-dar'd Daftard ? Ere my tongue Shall wound my Honour with such feeble
SCEN E changes to the Duke of Lancaster's
Gaunt. A Doth more follicit
Enter Gaunt and Dutchefs of Gloucester.
Dutch. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper spur ?