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Too good to be so, and too bad to live;
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 Traytor's Name stuff I thy throat;
And wish, so please my Sou’reign, ere I move,
What my Tongue speaks, my ? Right-drawn Sword
Mowb. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal;
'Tis not the tryal of a woman's war,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain;
The blood is hot, that must be coold for this.
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hushit, and noughi at all to say.
First, the fair Rev'rence of your Highness curbs me,
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it had return'a
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 defie him, and I spit at him;
Call him a sland'rous 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,
Where never Englishman durst set his foot.
Mean time, let this defend my Loyalty ;
By all my hopes, most fallly doth he lie.
Boling. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my
Disclaiming here the kindred of a King,
And lay aside iny high blood's Royalty,
Which fear, not rev'rence, makes thee to except.
If guilty Dread hath left thee so much strength,
? Right-drawn.) Drawn in * Inhabitable.] That is, not a right or jult Cause.
As to take up mine Honour's pain, then stoop;
By that, and all the rights of Knighthood else,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have spoken, or thou canst devise.
Mowb. I take it up, and by that Sword I swear,
Which gently laid my Knighthood on my fhoulder,
I'll answer thee in any fair 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 fay to Mowbray's
It must be great, that can inherit us
So much as of a thought of Ill in him.
Boling. Look, what I said, my life thall prove it
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, :
In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd imployments;
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 spring.
Further, I say, and further will maintain
Upon his bad Life to make all This good,
That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's death;
Suggest his foon-believing adversaries;
And consequently, 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 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 foars!
Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this?
Mowb. 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 our brother, nay, our Kingdom's heir,
As he is but our father's brother's fon;
Now by 'my Scepter's awe, I make a vow,
Such neighbour-nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing priv'lege him, nor partialize
Thi' unstooping firmness of my upright soul.
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Mowb. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, Throwchine tran s how . Through the false passage of thy throat, thou lieft!
linke 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 Leige 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 appeald, It issues from the rancor of a villain, A recreant and most degen’rate traitor ; Which in myself I boldly will defend,
The reverence due to my Scepter.
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 tryal day.
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen, be ruld 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 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. Myself I throw, dread Sovereign, at thy
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,
4 This we prescribe, though no too, the rhyming verses are of a physician, &c.] I must make much better talte than all the one Remark, in general, on the others, which rather ftrengthens Rhymes throughout this whole my conjecture.
Pope. play; they are so much inferior.'* No boot.] That is, no adto the rest of the writing, that vontage, no use, in delay or rethey appear to me of a different fusal. hand. What confirms this, is, My fair Name, &c.] That is, that the context does every My name that lives on my grave in where exactly (and frequently despight of death. This easy palmuch better) connect without fage most of the Editors seem to the inserted rhymes, except in a have mistaken. very few places; and just there
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.
Give me his gage. Lions make Leopards tame.
Mowb. Yea, but not change their spots. Take but
my shame, And I relign my gage. My dear, dear Lord, The purelt treasure mortal times afford, Is spotless Reputation; That away, Men are but guilded loam, or painted clay. A jewel in a ten-times-barr’d-up chest, Is å 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. Oh, heav'n defend my soul from such foul fin! Shall I seem crest-fall’n in my father's sight, 6 Or with pale beggar face impeach my height, Before this out-dar'd Dastard ? Ere my tongue Shall wound my Honour with such feeble wrong, Or found so base a parle, my teeth shall tear ? The flavish motive of recanting fear, And spit it bleeding, in his high disgrace, Where shame dath harbour, ey’n in Mowbray's face.
[Exit Gaunt, K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to command, Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, At Coventry upon Saint Lambert's day.
6 Or with pale beggar face-] ? The flavis motive--] . i. e. with a face of fupplication.' tive, for intirument. War B. But this will not satisfy the Ox- Rather that which fear puts in ferd Editor, he turns it to hag- motion. gard fear. WARBURTON.