Sivut kuvina

Since, the more fair and crystal is the sky,
The uglier seem the clouds that in it fly.
Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;
And wish, (so please my sovereign,) eré I move,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword

may prove.

Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal:

'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us (wain;
The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this.
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hush'd, and nought at all to say:
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs


From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it had return'd
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
I do defy him, and I spit at him;

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Call him a slanderous coward, and a villain:
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds;
And meet him, were I ty'd to run a foot
Even to the frozen, ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable

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Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
Mean time, let this defend my loyalty,
By all my hopes most falsely doth he lie.
Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw

my gage,

Disclaiming here the kindred of a king;
And lay a ide my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to ex•

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If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength,

As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop; By that, and all the rites of knighthood else, Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I


Which gently lay'd my knighthood on my e shoulder,

I'll answer thee in any fair degree,

Or chivalrous design of knightly trial:
And, when I mount, alive may I not light,
If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!

K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mow. bray's charge?

It must be great, that can inherit us
So much as of a thought of ill in him.
Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall

it true;


That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand


In name of lendings for your highness' soldiers; The which he hath detain'd for lewd employ



Like a false traitor, and injurious villain.
Besides I say, and will in battle 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 false Mowbray their first head and

Further I say, and further will maintain
Upon his bad life, to make all this good,
That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death;
Suggest his soon-believing adversaries;
And, consequently, like a traitor coward,
Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams
of blood:

Which blood, like sacrificing Abel's, cries,
Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,
To me, for justice, and rough chastisement;
And, by the glorious worth of my descent,
This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.

K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution. soars!

Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
Nor. O, let my sovereign turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
Till I have told this slander of his blood,
How God, and good men, hate so foul a liar.
K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes,
and ears:

Were he my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,
(As he is but my father's brother's son,)
Now by my scepter's awe I make a vow,
Such neighbour nearnels to our sacred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unstooping firmnefs of my upright soul:
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou;
Free speech, and fearlefs, I to thee allow.
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy

Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest!

Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Disburs'd I duly 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 Gloster's



I slew him not; but, to my 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 confefs 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 rancour of a villain,
A recreant and most degenerate traitor:
Which in myself I boldly will defend;
And interchangeably hurl down my gage
Upon this overweening traitor's foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman

Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom:
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray

Your highness to assign our trial - day.

K. Rich. Wrath kindled gentlemen, be rul'd by me;

Let's purge this choler without letting blood;
This we prescribe, though no physician;
Deep malice makes too deep incision:
Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed;
Our doctors say, this is no time to bleed.
Good uncle, let this end where it begun;
We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you, your son.
Gaunt. To be a make- peace shall become my


Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's


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

Nor. Myself 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 balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breath'd this poison.

K. Rich. Rage must be withstood:

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Lions make leopards

Nor. Yea, but not change their spots; take but my shame,

And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
The purest treasure mortal times afford,
Is spotlefs reputation; that away,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
A jewel in a ten-times - barr'd- up chest
Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;
Take honour from me, and my life is done:
Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;
In that I live, and for that will I die.

K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin.

Boling. O God defend my soul from such foul sin!

Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight?
Or with pale beggar - fear impeach my height
Before this out-dar'd dastard? Ere my tongue
Shall wound mine honour with such feeble


Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear
The slavish motive of recanting fear;
And spit it bleeding, in his high disgrace,,
Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's
[Exit GAUNT.]


K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to


Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,

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