Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, 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, 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 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 : 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 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 *. 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, Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay. Mine honour is my life; both grow in one; 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 out-dar'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 com mand: Which since we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, Marshal, command our officers at arms SCENE II. [Exeunt. 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 One flourishing branch of his most royal root,- Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded, Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb, That mettle, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee, What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life, His deputy anointed in his sight, -Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully, An angry arm against his minister. Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself? fence. Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: |