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High-ftomach'd are they Both, and full of ire;
Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray.
Boling. May many years of happy days befal My gracious Sovereign, my moft loving Liege! Mob. Each day ftill better other's happiness; Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, Add an immortal title to your Crown!
K. Rich. We thank you both, yet one but flatters us,
Tend'ring the precious fafety of my Prince,
Mowh. Let not my cold words here accuse 'Tis not the tryal of a woman's war,
The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,
First, the fair Rev'rence of your Highness curbs me,
From giving reins and fpurs to my free speech;
And let him be no kinfman to my Liege,
Call him a fland'rous coward, and a villain;
Boling. Pale trembling Coward, there I throw my gage,
Disclaiming here the kindred of a King,
And lay afide my high blood's Royalty:
(Which fear, not rev'rence, makes thee to except:)
Morub. I take it up, and by that Sword I swear,
Or chivalrous defign of knightly tryal;
And when I mount, alive may I not light,
If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!
K. Rich. What doth our Coufin lay to Mowbray's charge?
It must be great, 2 that can inhabit us
So much as of a thought of Ill in him.
Boling Look, what I faid, my life shall prove it true; That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles, In name of lendings for your Highness' foldiers, The which he hath detain'd for lewd imployments; Like a falfe traitor and injurious villain.
2 that can INHERIT us.] We should read, INHABIT.
Befides, I fay, and will in battle prove,
Fetch from falfe Mowbray their first head and spring,
And confequently, like a traitor-coward,
Sluic'd out his inn'cent foul through ftreams of blood
K. Rich. How high a pitch his refolution foars!
Till I have told this Slander of his blood,
How God and good men hate fo 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 fon; Now by my Scepter's awe, I make a vow, Such neighbour-nearnefs to our facred blood Should nothing priv'lege him, nor partialize Th' unftooping firmnefs of my upright foul. He is our Subject, Mowbray, fo art thou; Free fpeech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Mowb. Then Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
The other part referv'd I by confent,
Since laft I went to France to fetch his Queen.
Now, fwallow down that Lie.-For Gloucester's death;
I flew him not; but, to mine own disgrace,
Your Grace's pardon; and, I hope, I had it.
Your Highness to affign our tryal day.
K. Rich, Wrath-kindled Gentlemen, be rûl'd by me;
Let's purge this Choler without letting blood :
3 This we prescribe, though no physician;
Obedience bids, I fhould not bid again.
K.Rich. Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. Morb. My felf I throw, dread Sovereign, at thy foot. 3 This we preferibe, though no phyfician, &c.] I must make one remark, in general, on the Rhymes throughout this whole play they are so much inferior to the reft 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 inferted rhymes, except in a very few places; and juft there too, the rhyming verfes are of a much better taste than all the others, which rather strengthens my conjecture. Mr. Pope.
My life thou shalt command, but not my Shame ;;
K. Rich. Rage must be withstood ::
Give me his gage: Lions make Leopards tame.
And I refign my gage. My dear, dear lord,
Mine Honour is my life, both grow in one;
K. Rich. Coufin, throw down your gage; do you
Boling. Oh, heav'n defend my foul from fuch foul fin Shall I feem creft-fall'n in my father's fight, 4 Or with pale beggar face impeach my height, Before this out-dar'd Daftard? Ere my tongue Shall wound my honour with fuch feeble wrong, Or found fo base a parle, my teeth shall tear 5 The flavish motive of recanting fear, And fpit it bleeding, in his high difgrace, Where fhame doth harbour, ev'n in Mowbray's face. [Exit Gaunt,
K. Rich. We were not born to fue, but to command, Which fince we cannot do to make you friends, Be ready, as your lives fhall answer it,
4 Or with pale beggar face---] i. e. with a face of fupplica tion. But this will not fatisfy the Oxford Editor, he turns it to baggard fear.
5 The flavish motive---] Motive, for instrument,