K. Rich.
Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,
Hast thou, according to thy oath and band ^note,
Brought hither Henry Hereford ^note thy bold son,
Here to make good the boisterous late appeal,
Which then our leisure would not let us hear ^note,
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ^note?

Gaunt.
I have, my liege.

K. Rich.
Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him,
If he appeal ^note the duke on ancient malice;
Or worthily, as a good subject should,
On some known ground of treachery in him?

Gaunt.
As near as I could sift him on that argument,
On some apparent danger seen in him
Aim'd at your highness, no inveterate malice.

K. Rich.
Then call them to our presence; ^note face to face,
And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear ^note
The accuser and the accused freely speak:
High-stomach'd are they both, and full of ire,
In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire. Enter ^note Bolingbroke and Mowbray.

Boling.
Many ^note years of happy days befal
My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

Mow.
Each day still better other's happiness;
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Add an ^note immortal title to your crown!

K. Rich.
We thank you both: yet one but flatters us,
As well appeareth by the cause you come ^note;
Namely, to appeal ^note 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 to my speech!
In the devotion ^note of a subject's love,
Tendering the precious safety of my prince,
And free from other ^note misbegotten hate,
Come I appellant ^note 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 ^note 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 ^note,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;
And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move,
What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove ^note.

Mow.
Let not my cold ^note 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 ^note at all to say:
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else ^note would post until it had return'd
These terms of treason doubled ^note down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him ^note be no kinsman to my liege,
I do ^note defy him, and I ^note spit at him;
Call him a slanderous coward and a villain:
Which to maintain I would allow him odds,
And meet him, were I tied ^note to run afoot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable ^note,
Where ever ^note Englishman ^note durst set his foot.
Mean time ^note let this defend my loyalty ^note,
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.

Boling.
Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage,
Disclaiming here the kindred ^note of the king ^note;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.
If guilty dread have ^note left thee so much strength
As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop:
By that and all the rites ^note of knighthood else,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have spoke, or thou canst worse ^note devise.

Mow.
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 ^note chivalrous design of knightly trial:
And when I mount, alive ^note 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 ^note us
So much as of a thought of ill in him.

Boling.
Look, what I speak ^note, my life shall prove it true;
That Mowbray hath received 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 ^note these eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land
Fetch ^note from false Mowbray their first head and spring.
Further I say and further will maintain

Upon his bad life to make all this good ^note,
That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester's ^note death,
Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,
And consequently, like a traitor ^note coward,
Sluiced out his innocent soul through streams of blood:
Which blood, like sacrificing 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 ^note,
This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.

K. Rich.
How high a pitch his resolution soars!
Thomas of Norfolk, what ^note say'st thou to this?

Mow.
O, let my sovereign turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
Till I have told this slander ^note of his blood,
How God and good men hate so foul a liar.

K. Rich.
Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears:
Were he my brother, nay, my ^note kingdom's heir,
As he is but my ^note father's brother's son,
Now, by my ^note 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 ^note upright soul:
He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou:
Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.

Mow.
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 ^note
Disbursed I duly ^note to his highness' soldiers;
The other part reserved I by consent,
For that my sovereign liege was in my debt

Upon remainder of a dear ^note account,
Since last I went to France to fetch his queen:
Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's ^note death,
I slew him not; but ^note to my ^note 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 ^note lay an ^note ambush for your life,
A trespass that doth vex my grieved soul;
But ^note ere I last received 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 ^note hurl down my ^note gage
Upon ^note this overweening traitor's foot,
To prove myself a loyal gentleman
Even in the best blood chamber'd in his ^note bosom.
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
Your highness to assign our trial day.

K. Rich.
Wrath-kindled gentlemen ^note, be ruled by me;
Let's purge this choler without letting blood:
This we prescribe, though no physician ^note;
Deep malice makes too deep incision:
Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed;
Our doctors say this is no month ^note to bleed ^note.

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 ^note I should not bid again.

K. Rich.
Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot.

Mow.
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 ^note upon my grave,
To dark dishonour's use thou shalt not have.
I am disgraced, impeach'd and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venom'd spear,
The which no balm ^note can cure but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.

K. Rich.
Rage must be withstood:
Give me his gage: lions make leopards ^note tame.

Mow.
Yea, but not change his spots ^note: take but my shame,
And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, ^note
The purest treasure mortal times afford
Is spotless reputation: that away, ^note
Men are but gilded loam ^note or ^note 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 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 up ^note your gage; do you begin ^note.

Boling.
O, God ^note defend my soul from such deep ^note sin!
Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight?
Or with pale beggar-fear ^note impeach my height
Before this out-dared dastard ^note? Ere my tongue
Shall wound my ^note honour with such feeble wrong,
Or sound so base ^note a parle ^note, 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. ^note

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 ^note shall answer it,
At Coventry, upon Saint Lambert's ^note day:
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate:
Since we can not atone ^note you, we ^note shall see
Justice design ^note the victor's chivalry.
Lord marshal ^note, command ^note our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home alarms ^note. [Exeunt ^note.

^note

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