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Hast thou, according to thy oath and band, |
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son, |
Here to make good the boisterous late appeal, |
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; |
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. |
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. |
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! |
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? |
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. |
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, |
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; |
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, |
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 |
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, |
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, |
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, |
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: |
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, |
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