SCENE I. LONDON. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING RICHARD, attended; JOHN of GAUNT, and other Nobles with him. K. Rich. OLD John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lan[caster, Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, K. Rich. Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; Or worthily, as a good subject should, Gaunt. As near as I could sift him on that argument, On some apparent danger seen in him, K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face to face, And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear [Exeunt some Attendants. High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire, Re-enter Attendants, with BOLINGBROKE and Boling. May many years of happy days befal K. Rich. We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, As well appeareth by the cause you come; Namely, to appeal each other of high treason.— Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? Boling. First, (heaven be the record of my speech!) In the devotion of a subject's love, Tendering the precious safety of my prince, And free from other misbegotten hate, Come I appellant to this princely presence.--Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee, And mark my greeting well; for what I speak, My body shall make good upon this earth, Or my divine soul answer it in heaven. Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant; 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 traitor's name stuff I thy throat; And wish (so please my sovereign), ere 1 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 twain: 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 me From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; Call him-a slanderous coward, and a villain : Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear, [charge? K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's It must be great, that can inherit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. [true; Boling. Look, what I speak my life shall 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 employments, 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, Suggest his soon-believing adversaries; K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars!- 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 sceptre's awe I make a vow, Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize The unstooping firmness of my upright soul; He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou; Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow. Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, 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 death,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, 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 age; Throw down, my son, the duke of Norfolk's gage. K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his. Gaunt. When, Harry? when? [no boot. Obedience bids, I should not bid again. K. Rich. Rage must be withstood: Give me his gage :-Lions make leopards tame. [shame, Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: take but mu |