« ПредыдущаяПродолжить »
Such neighbour nearness to our sacred blood
Nor. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart,
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 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 receiv'd 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 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 :
Your highness to assign our trial day.
K. Rich. Wrath-kindled gentlemen, be rul'd 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.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.
When, Harry? when?
Obedience bids, I should not bid again.
K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down; we bid; 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 dishonour's use thou shalt not have. I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffled here; Pierc'd to the soul with slander's venom'd spear; The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood Which breath'd this poison.
Rage must be withstood:
Give me his gage :-Lions make leopards tame.
Nor. Yea, but not change their spots: take but my
And I resign my gage. My dear dear lord,
Men are but gilded loam, or painted clay.
Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;
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-dar'd dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour 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 harbour, even in Mowbray's face.
K. Rich. We were not born to sue, but to com
Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
Be ready, as your lives shall answer it,
Marshal, command our officers at arms
The Same. A Room in the Duke of Lancaster's Palace. Enter GAUNT, and Duchess of GLOSTER.
Gaunt. Alas! the part I had in Gloster's blood
One flourishing branch of his most royal root,-
Is hack'd down, and his summer leaves all faded,
Ah, Gaunt! his blood was thine; that bed, that womb,
That mettle, that self-mould, that fashion'd thee,
What shall I say? to safeguard thine own life,
His deputy anointed in his sight,
-Hath caus'd his death: the which if wrongfully,
An angry arm against his minister.
Duch. Where then, alas! may I complain myself?
Duch. Why then, I will. Farewell, old Gaunt. Thou go'st to Coventry, there to behold
Our cousin Hereford and fell Mowbray fight: