| ACT I SCENE I | London. KING RICHARD II's palace. | |
| | Enter KING RICHARD II, JOHN OF GAUNT, with other Nobles and Attendants | |
| KING RICHARD II | Old John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, | |
| | Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, | |
| | Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, | |
| | Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, | 5 |
| | Which then our leisure would not let us hear, | |
| | Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? | |
| JOHN OF GAUNT | I have, my liege. | |
| KING RICHARD II | Tell me, moreover, hast thou sounded him, | |
| | If he appeal the duke on ancient malice; | 10 |
| | Or worthily, as a good subject should, | |
| | On some known ground of treachery in him? | |
| JOHN OF 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. | 15 |
| KING RICHARD II | Then call them to our presence; face to face, | |
| | And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear | |
| | 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. | 20 |
| | Enter HENRY BOLINGBROKE and THOMAS MOWBRAY. | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Many years of happy days befal | |
| | My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege! | |
| THOMAS MOWBRAY | Each day still better other's happiness; | |
| | Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap, | |
| | Add an immortal title to your crown! | 25 |
| KING RICHARD II | We thank you both: yet one but flatters us, | |
| | As well appeareth by the cause you come; | |
| | Namely to appeal each other of high treason. | |
| | Cousin of Hereford, what dost thou object | |
| | Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray? | 30 |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | First, heaven be the record to my speech! | |
| | In the devotion of a subject's love, | |
| | Tendering the precious safety of my prince, | |
| | And free from other misbegotten hate, | |
| | Come I appellant to this princely presence. | 35 |
| | 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, | 40 |
| | 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 stuff I thy throat; | 45 |
| | And wish, so please my sovereign, ere I move, | |
| | What my tongue speaks my right drawn sword may prove. | |
| THOMAS MOWBRAY | Let not my cold words here accuse my zeal: | |
| | 'Tis not the trial of a woman's war, | |
| | The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, | 50 |
| | 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 at all to say: | |
| | First, the fair reverence of your highness curbs me | 55 |
| | From giving reins and spurs to my free speech; | |
| | Which else would post until it had return'd | |
| | These terms of treason doubled down his throat. | |
| | Setting aside his high blood's royalty, | |
| | And let him be no kinsman to my liege, | 60 |
| | 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, | 65 |
| | Or any other ground inhabitable, | |
| | Where ever Englishman durst set his foot. | |
| | Mean time let this defend my loyalty, | |
| | By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie. | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, | 70 |
| | Disclaiming here the kindred of the king, | |
| | And lay aside my high blood's royalty, | |
| | Which fear, not reverence, makes thee to except. | |
| | If guilty dread have left thee so much strength | |
| | As to take up mine honour's pawn, then stoop: | 75 |
| | By that and all the rites of knighthood else, | |
| | Will I make good against thee, arm to arm, | |
| | What I have spoke, or thou canst worse devise. | |
| THOMAS MOWBRAY | I take it up; and by that sword I swear | |
| | Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder, | 80 |
| | I'll answer thee in any fair degree, | |
| |
Or chivalrous design of knightly trial: | |
| | And when I mount, alive may I not light, | |
| | If I be traitor or unjustly fight! | |
| KING RICHARD II | What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's charge? | 85 |
| | It must be great that can inherit us | |
| | So much as of a thought of ill in him. | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | 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, | 90 |
| | 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, | 95 |
| | 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, | 100 |
| | That he did plot the Duke of Gloucester'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, | 105 |
| | 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. | |
| KING RICHARD II | How high a pitch his resolution soars! | 110 |
| | Thomas of Norfolk, what say'st thou to this? | |
| THOMAS MOWBRAY | O, 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. | 115 |
| KING RICHARD II | 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 sceptre's awe, I make a vow, | |
| | Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood | 120 |
| | Should nothing privilege him, nor partialize | |
| | The unstooping firmness of my upright soul: | |
| | He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou: | |
| | Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. | |
| THOMAS MOWBRAY | Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart, | 125 |
| | 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 | 130 |
| | Upon remainder of a dear account, | |
| | Since last I went to France to fetch his queen: | |
| | Now swallow down that lie. For Gloucester's death, | |
| | I slew him not; but to my own disgrace | |
| | Neglected my sworn duty in that case. | 135 |
| | 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 received the sacrament | 140 |
| | 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 appeall'd, | |
| | It issues from the rancour of a villain, | |
| | A recreant and most degenerate traitor | 145 |
| | 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. | 150 |
| | In haste whereof, most heartily I pray | |
| | Your highness to assign our trial day. | |
| KING RICHARD II | Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be ruled by me; | |
| | Let's purge this choler without letting blood: | |
| | This we prescribe, though no physician; | 155 |
| | Deep malice makes too deep incision; | |
| | Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed; | |
| | Our doctors say this is no month to bleed. | |
| | Good uncle, let this end where it begun; | |
| | We'll calm the Duke of Norfolk, you your son. | 160 |
| JOHN OF GAUNT | To be a make-peace shall become my age: | |
| | Throw down, my son, the Duke of Norfolk's gage. | |
| KING RICHARD II | And, Norfolk, throw down his. | |
| JOHN OF GAUNT | When, Harry, when? | |
| | Obedience bids I should not bid again. | 165 |
| KING RICHARD II | Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. | |
| THOMAS MOWBRAY | 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, | 170 |
| | 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 can cure but his heart-blood | |
| | Which breathed this poison. | 175 |
| KING RICHARD II | Rage must be withstood: | |
| | Give me his gage: lions make leopards tame. | |
| THOMAS MOWBRAY | Yea, but not change his spots: take but my shame. | |
| | And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord, | |
| | The purest treasure mortal times afford | 180 |
| | Is spotless reputation: that away, | |
| | Men are but gilded loam or 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: | 185 |
| | 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. | |
| KING RICHARD II | Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin. | |
| HENRY BOLINGBROKE | O, God defend my soul from such deep sin! | 190 |
| | Shall I seem crest-fall'n in my father's sight? | |
| | Or with pale beggar-fear impeach my height | |
| | Before this out-dared dastard? Ere my tongue | |
| | Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong, | |
| | Or sound so base a parle, my teeth shall tear | 195 |
| | The slavish motive of recanting fear, | |
| | And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace, | |
| | Where shame doth harbour, even in Mowbray's face. | |
| | Exit JOHN OF GAUNT. | |
| KING RICHARD II | We were not born to sue, but to command; | |
| | Which since we cannot do to make you friends, | 200 |
| | Be ready, as your lives shall answer it, | |
| | At Coventry, upon Saint 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 | 205 |
| | Justice design the victor's chivalry. | |
| | Lord marshal, command our officers at arms | |
| | Be ready to direct these home alarms. | |
| | Exeunt | |
