Which to maintain, I would allow him odds; Disclaiming here the kindred of a king; Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except: 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 Mowbray'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 prove it true; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, Like a false traitor, and injurious villain. Fetch from false Mowbray their first head and spring. That he did plot the duke of Gloster's death; And, consequently, like a traitor coward, Sluic'd out his innocent soul through streams of blood: K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars!- Till I have told this slander of his blood, K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes, and ears: 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,- Even in the best blood chamber'd in his bosom: 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: 3 Forget, forgive; conclude, and be agreed; We'll calm the duke of Norfolk, you your son. 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, (Despite 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: Give me his gage:-Lions make leopards tame. 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-spotless reputation; that away, Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. 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; K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin. Boling. O, God defend my soul from such foul sin! Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height Before this outdar'd dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour with such feeble wrong, 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 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; There shall your swords and lances arbitrate The swelling difference of your settled hate; Since we cannot atone you, we shall see Justice design the victor's chivalry.— Marshal, command our officers at arms Be ready to direct these home-alarms. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-The same. A Room in the Duke of Lancaster's Palace. Enter GAUNT, and Duchess of GLOSTER. Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood Doth more solicit me, than your exclaims, |