1.1 Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants

• KING
• Old John of Gaunt, time-honored Lancaster,
• Hast thou, according to thy oath and band,
• Brought hither Henry Hereford, thy bold son,
• Here to make good the boist’rous late appeal,
• Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
• Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

• GAUNT
• I have, my liege.

• KING
• 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?

• GAUNT
• As near as I could sift him on that argument,
• On some apparent danger seen in him
• Aimed at your highness, no inveterate malice.

• KING
• Then call them to our presence. [Exit Attendant.]
• Face to face,
• And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear
• The accuser and the accusѐd freely speak.
• High-stomached are they both and full of ire,
• In rage deaf as the sea, hasty as fire.
• Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray.

• BOLINGBROKE
• Many years of happy days befall
• My gracious sovereign, my most loving liege!

• MOWBRAY
• Each day still better other’s happiness
• Until the heavens, envying earth’s good hap,
• Add an immortal title to your crown!

• KING
• 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?

• BOLINGBROKE
• First—heaven be the record to my speech!—
• In the devotion of a subject’s love,
• Tend’ring 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.

• MOWBRAY
• 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 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 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,
• Where ever Englishman durst set his foot.
• Meantime let this defend my loyalty:
• By all my hopes, most falsely doth he lie.

• 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 honor’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.

• MOWBRAY
• 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 design of knightly trial;
• And when I mount, alive may I not light,
• If I be traitor or unjustly fight!

• KING
• 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.

• 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,
• 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 contrivèd 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 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,
• 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
• How high a pitch his resolution soars!
• Thomas of Norfolk, what say’st thou to this?

• 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!

• KING
• 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 neighbor nearness to our sacred blood
• 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.

• MOWBRAY
• 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 Gloucester’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 grievèd 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.

• KING
• 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 month 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.

• KING
• And, Norfolk, throw down his.

• GAUNT
• When, Harry, when?
• Obedience bids I should not bid again.

• KING
• Norfolk, throw down, we bid. There is no boot.

• 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,
• 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 heartblood
• Which breathed this poison.

• KING
• Rage must be withstood.
• Give me his gage. Lions make leopards tame.

• 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
• 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.

• KING
• Cousin, throw up your gage. Do you begin.

• BOLINGBROKE
• O, God defend my soul from such deep 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 my 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 harbour, even in Mowbray’s face.
• [Exit Gaunt]

• KING
• We were not born to sue, but to command;
• Which since we cannot do to make you friends,
• 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 cannot 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.
• Exit [with others].