Sidor som bilder

From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it bad return'd
These terins of Treafon doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's Royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to iny Liege,
I do defie him, and I.fpit at hin;
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 durft set his foot.
Meantime, let this defend my Loyalty ;
By all my hopes, most falfly doth he lie.
Boling: Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my

Disclaiming here the kindred of a King,
And lay aside my high blood's Royalty,
Which fear, not rev'rence, makes thee to except.
If guilty. Dread hath left thee so much strength,
As to take up mine Honour's pawn, then stoop;
By that, and all the rights of Knighthood elfe,
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 shoulder,
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 say to Mowbray's

charge? It must be great, that can inherit us Șo much as of a thought of Ill in hiin.

Boling. Look, what I said, my life shall prove it true; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd inployments; Like a false traitor and injurious villain. Besides, I say, and will in battle prove,

* Inhabitable.] That is, not habitable, uninli abitable.

Or here, or elsewhere, to the furtheft

That ever was survey'd by English eye,
That all the treasons for these eighteen years,
Complotted and contrived in this Land,
Fetch from falfe 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 in'n'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!
Thimas of Norfolk, what lay'st thou to this?
Mowb. O, let

Sovereign turn away

his face,
And bid bis 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 son ;
Now by (3) my Scepter's awe, I make a vow,
Such neighbour-nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing priv'lege him, por partialize
Th' unstooping firniness of my upright soul.
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou ;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.

Mowb. Then, Boling broke, as low as to thy heart, Through the false passage of thy throat, thou liest ! 'Three parts of that Receipt I had for Calais, Disburft I to his Highness' foldiers; 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,

(3) My Sceptor's awe.) The rever ce due to my Scepter.

I flew him not; but, to mine own disgrace,
Neglected my sworn duty in that cafe.
For you, my,

noble lord of Lancaster,
The honqurable facher 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 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 tryal day.

K. Rick. Wrath-kindled Gentlemen, be ruld by me;
Let's purge this Choler without letting bloom
(4) 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 gåge.

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 * (4) This we prescribe, though no Physician, &c.] I must make ane Remark, in general, on the Rbymes throughout this whole play ; they are so much inferior to the rest of the writing, that they appear to me of a different hand. What confirms this, is, that the context does every where exactly (and frequently much better) connect without the inserted rhymes, except in a very few places ; and just there too, the rhyming verses are of a much better tafta than all the others, which rather strengthens my conjecture. Popi. * No boot.] That is, no advantage, no use, in delay or refusal.

Mowb. .

B 4

Mowb. Myself I throw, dread Sovereign, at thy foot.
My life thou shalt.comınand, but not my Shaine ;
The one my duty owes ; but (5). my fair Name,
Despight of death, That lives upon my Grave,
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.
I am disgrac'd, impeachd, and baffled here,
Pierc'd to the soul with Nander'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 nie his gage. Lions make Leopards tame.

Nowb. Yea, but not change their spots. Take but

my fame,

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.
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 hamperfrom me, and my life is done.
Then, dear my Ljege, 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 froin fuch foul fin! Shall I seem crest-fall'n in


father's sight, (6) Or with pale beggar face impeach my height, Before this cut-card Daftard ? Ere my tongue Shall wound ny Honour with such feeble wrong, Or sound so bafe a parle, my teeth shall tear (7) The Navilh motive of recanting fear, And spit it bleeding, in his bigh disgrace, Where shame doth harbour, ev'n in Mowbray's face.

[Exit Gaunt: (5) My fair Name, &c.] That is, My name that lives on my grave in despight of death. This easy pailagè most of the Editors seem to have mistaken.

(6) Or with pale beggar face-] 1. e. with a face of supplication, But this will not satisfy the Oxford Editor, he turns it to a haggard fear.

WARBURTON. (7). The slavish motive] Morive, for instrument.

WARB Rather that which fear puts in motion.

K. Rich.

K. Ricb. 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 diff'rence of your settled hate. Since we cannot atone you, you shall see Justice decide the Victor's Chivalry. Lord Marshal, bid our officers at Arms Be ready to direct these home-alarms. [Exeunt.



than your

Changes, 10 the Duke of Lancaster's Palace.

Enter Gaunt and Dutchess of Gloucester. Gaunt. Las ! * the part I had in Gloster's blood Doth more sollicit


Exclaims, To ftir againft the butchers of his life. But since correction lyeth in those hands, Which inade the fault that we cannot correct, Put we our Quarrel to the Will of heav'n ; Who when it fees the hours ripe on earth, Will rain hot vengeance on offenders' heads.

Dutcb. Finds brotherhood in thee no sharper (pur ? Hath love in thy old blood no living fire? Edward's sev'n fons, whereof thy self art one, Were as sev’n vials of his sacred blood, Or sev'n fair branches, springing from one root: Some of those fev'n are dry'd by Nature's Course; Some of those branches by che Deft'nies cut: But Thomas, my dear lord, my life, my Glofter, One vial, full of Edward's facred blood. One flourishing branch of his most royal root, Is crack'd, and all the precious liquor spilt ; Is hackt down, and his summer leaves all faded, By Envy's hand and Murder's bloody axe. Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine ; that bed, that womb,

* The part I had.] That is, my relation of consanguinity, to

HANMIP, Gloucester,

B 5


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