Grignion

The LIFE and DEATH of

KING RICHARD II.

ACT I.

SCENE I.

The COURT.

Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other nobles and

Ο

attendants.

K. RICHARD.

LD John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster,
Haft thou, according to thy oath and bond,

Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold fon,

Here to make good the boift'rous late appeal,

Which then our leifure would not let us hear,
Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ?
GAUNT. I have, my liege.

K. RICH. Tell me moreover, haft thou founded him,
If he appeal the duke on ancient malice,

Or worthily, as a good subject should,

On fome known ground of treachery in him?

GAUNT. As near as I could fift him on that argument, On fome apparent danger seen in him

Aim'd at your hignefs; no invet'rate malice.

K. RICH. Then call them to our prefence; face to face, And frowning brow to brow. Ourselves will hear

Th' accufer, and th' accufed freely speak—

High ftomach'd are they both, and full of ire;
In rage, deaf as the fea; hafty as fire.

SCENE II. Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray.
BOL. May many years of happy days befal
My gracious fovereign, my moft loving liege!
Mow B. 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, As well appeareth by the cause you come;

Namely, t' appeal each other of high treason.

Coufin of Hereford, what dost thou object

Against the duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray ?
BOL. First (heaven be the record to my speech!)
In the devotion of of a fubject's love,
Tend'ring the precious fafety of my prince,
And free from other mif-begotten hate,
Come I appellant to to this princely prefence.

Now, Thomas Mowbray, do I turn to thee,
And mark my greeting well; for what I fpeak,
My body shall make good upon this earth,
Or
my divine foul answer it in heav'n.
Thou art a traitor und 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,
With a foul traitor's name ftuff I thy throat;

And with, fo please my fov'reign, ere I move,

What my tongue fpeaks, my right-drawn sword may prove. Mow B. Let not my cold words here accufe my zeal;

"Tis not the trial of a woman's war,

The bitter clamour of two eager tongues,

Can arbitrate this caufe betwixt us twain;

The blood is hot, that must be cool'd for this.
Yet can I not of fuch tame patience boast,

As to be husht, and nought at all to say.

Firft the fair rev'rence of your highness curbs me,
F om giving reins and fpurs to my free speech;
Which elfe would poft, until it had return'd
These terms of treafon doubled down his throat.
Setting afide his high blood's royalty,

And let him be no kinfman to my liege,

I do defie him, and I spit at him;

Call him a fland'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 falfely doth he lie.

BOL. 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.
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.

Mow B. 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 defign of knightly trial;

And when I mount, alive may I not light,

If I be traitor, or unjustly fight!

[charge?

K. RICH. What doth our coufin fay to Mowbray's

It must be great, that can inherit us

So much as of a thought of ill in him.

BOL. Look, what I faid, my life shall prove it true;
That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles,
In name of lendings for your hignefs' foldiers,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd imployments;
Like a falfe traitor and injurious villain.

Befides, I fay, and will in battle prove,

Or here, or elsewhere, to the furtheft verge,
That ever was furvey'd by English eye,
That all the treasons for these eighteen years,
Complotted and contrived in this land,

Fetch from falfe Mowbray their firft head and spring.
Further, I fay, and further will maintain

Upon his bad life to make all this good,

That he did plot the duke of Gloucester's death;

Suggeft his foon-believing adverfaries;

And confequently, like a traitor-coward,

Sluic'd out his inn'cent foul through ftreams of blood;
Which blood, like facrificing Abel's, cries
Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth,
To me, for juftice, 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 refolution foars! Thomas of Norfolk, what fay'st thou to this?

Mow B. O, let my sovereign turn away his face,
And bid his ears a little while be deaf,
Till I have told this flander 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 fon; Now by my fceptre's awe, I make a vow, Such neighbour-nearness to our facred blood Should nothing priv'lege him, nor partialize Th' unftooping firmness of my upright foul. He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou; Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.

Mow B. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,

Through the falfe paffage of thy throat thou lieft!

Three parts of that receipt I had for Calais,
Disburst I to his highness' foldiers;

The other part reserv'd I by consent,

For that my fovereign liege was in my debt;

Upon remainder of a dear account,

Since last 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 difgrace,
Neglected my fworn duty in that cafe.
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 foul;
But ere I laft receiv'd the facrament,

I did confefs it, and exactly begg'd

Your Grace's pardon; and, I hope, I had it.