Come I appellant 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 soul answer it in heaven ;—
Thou art a traitor, and a miscreant;
Too good to be so, and too bad to live:
Once more, the more to aggravate the 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. Nor. Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal :
'Tis not the trial of a woman's war,
The bitter clamor of two eager tongues
Can arbitrate this cause betwixt us twain:
The blood is hot that must be cooled for this;
Yet can I not of such tame patience boast,
As to be hushed, and naught at all to say:
First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would post, until it had returned
These terms of treason doubled down his throat.
Setting aside his high blood's royalty,
And let him be no kinsman to my liege,
I do defy him, and I 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 to run afoot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground inhabitable
Wherever Englishman durst set his foot.
Meantime, let this defend my loyalty,-
By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.
Boling. Pale, trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Disclaiming here the kindred of a king;
And lay aside my high blood's royalty,
Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except.
If guilty dread hath left thee so much strength
As to take up mine honor's pawn, then stoop:
By that and all the rights of knighthood, else,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arm,
What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise.
Nor. I take it up; and, by that sword I swear,
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial;
And when I mount, alive 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 us
So much as of a thought of ill in him
Boling. Look,-what I speak 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 detained 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 surveyed by English eye,-
That all the treasons, for these eighteen years
Complotted and contrived in this land,
Fetch from false 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 Gloster's death;
Suggest his soon-believing adversaries;
And, consequently, like a traitor 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,
This arm shall do it, or this life be spent.
K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars!
Thomas of Norfolk, what sayest thou to this?
Nor. Oh! let my sovereign turn away his face,
And bid his 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 my brother, nay, my kingdom's heir,
(As he is but my father's brother's son,)
Now by my scepter's awe I make a vow,
Such neighbor nearness to our sacred blood
Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize
The unstopping firmness of my upright soul;
He is our subject, Mowbray, so art thou;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.
Nor. 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,
Disbursed I duly 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 account,
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 honorable 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 received the sacrament,
I did confess it, and exactly begged
Your grace's pardon; and, I hope, I had it.
This is my fault: as for the rest appealed,
It issues from the rancor 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 chambered in his bosom:
In haste whereof, most heartily I pray
Your highness to assign our trial day.
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled 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.-
Norfolk, throw down; 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 dishonor's use thou shalt not have.
I am disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear;
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breathed 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 shamo, 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 barred-up chest Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast. Mine honor is my life; both grow in one. Take honor from me, and my life is done: Then, dear my liege, mine honor let me try; In that I live, and for that will I die.
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-dared dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honor 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 harbor, even in Mowbray's face.
K. Rich. We were not born to sue; but to command: Which, since we can not do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
At Coventry, upon St. Lambert's day;
There shall your swords and lances arbitrate
The swelling difference of your settled hate;-
Since we can not atone you, we shall see
Justice design the victor's chivalry.-
Lord Marshal, command our officers at arms
Be ready to direct these home alarms.
Ex. CCXLIII.-SCENE FROM KING JOHN-ACT V.
PANDULPH, LEWIS THE DAUPHIN, FAULCONBRIDGE.
Pand. Hail, noble prince of France;
The news is this,-King John has reconciled
Himself to Rome; his spirit is come in,
That so stood out against the holy church;
The great metropolis and see of Rome;
Therefore thy threatening colors now wind up,
And tame the savage spirit of wild war;
That, like a lion fastened up at hand,
It may lie gently at the foot of peace,
And be no further harmful than in show.
Lewis. Your grace shall pardon me, I will not back; I am too high-born to be propertied,
To be a secondary at control,
Or useful serving-man and instrument
To any sovereign state throughout the world.
Your breath first kindled the dead coal of war
Between this chastised kingdom and myself,
And brought in matter that should feed this fire;
And now 'tis far too huge to be blown out
With that same weak wind which kindled it.
You taught me how to know the face of right,
Acquainted me with interest to this land,
Yea, thrust this enterprize into my heart;
And come you now to tell me, John hath made
His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?
I, by the honor of my marriage-bed,
After young Arthur, claim this land for mine;
And, now it is half conquered, must I back,
Because that John hath made his peace with Rome?
Am I Rome's slave? What penny hath Rome borne,
What men provided, what munition sent,
To underprop this action? Is 't not I,
That undergo this charge? Who else but I,
And such as to my claim are liable,
Sweat in this business, and maintain this war?
Have I not heard these islanders shout out,
Vive le roy! as I have banked their towns?
Have I not here the best cards for the game
To win this easy match played for a crown?
And shall I now give o'er the yielded set? .
No, on my soul, it never shall be said.
Pand. You look but on the outside of this work.
Lewis. Outside or inside, I will not return
Till my attempt so much be glorified
As to my ample hope was promised
Before I drew this gallant head of war,
And culled these fiery spirits from the world,
|