Imagens da página
[merged small][merged small][ocr errors]
[merged small][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]


Ross, Duke of York,

friends to

} uncles to Willoughby,

Bolingbroke. John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster,

the King. Sir Stephen Scroop, J. K. Richard.

Bishop of Carlisle, friends to Bolingbroke, fonto John of Gaunt, Fitzwater,

Lords ir afterwards King Henry IV. Surry,


parAumerle, fon to the Duke of York. | Abbot of Westminster,

liament. Mowbray, Duke of Norfolk. Sir Pierce of Exton, Earl of Salisbury. Lord Berkley.

Queen to King Richard. Bushy,

Dutchefs of Gloucester. Bagot, servants to King Ri

Dutchess of York. Green, chard.

Ladies attending on the Queen. Earl of Northum

berland. friends to Heralds, two, Gardners, 'Kieper, Percy, fon to Nor-Bolingbroke. Mellonger. Groom, and other thumberland,

SCENE dispersedly, in several parts of England.

[ocr errors]


The court. Enter King Richard, Fohn of Gaunt, with other Nobles

and Attendants.

OLD John of Gaunt, time-honour'd

K. Rich.

Hast thou, according to thy oath and bond,
Brought hither Henry Hereford thy bold son,
Here to make good the boift'rous late appeal,
Which then our leisure would not let us hear,
Against the Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?



Gaunt. I have, my Liege.

K. Rich. Tell me moreover, hast thou founded him, If he appeal t the Duke on ancient malice, Or worthily, as a good subject fliould, On some known ground of treachery in him?

Gaunt. As near as I could fift him on that argument, On some apparent danger seen in him Aim'd at your-Highness; no ipvet'rate malice.

K. Rich. Then call them to our presence; face to face, And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear Th’accufer and th' accused freely speak: High-ftomach'd are they both, and full of ire;

deaf as the sea; hafty as fire.

In rage,

[merged small][ocr errors]

Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray.
Boling. May many years of happy days befal
My gracious Sovereign, my most loving Liege!

Mowb. Each day still better other's happiness;
Until the heavens, envying earth's good hap,
Add an immortal title to your crown!

K. Rich. We thank you both, yet one but flatters us, As well'appeareth by the cause you come;

Namely,: appead each other of high-treafon. •Cousin of Hereford; what doft thou object . Againit ihe Đoke of Norfolk, Thomas Mowbray?

Boling. Firit, (Heaven be the record to my speech!) In the dription of a subject's love,

Tendring 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 fhall make good upon this earth,
Or my divine squl answer it in heav'n.
Thou art a traitor and a miscreant f.

Mowb. t i. e. Call, demand, challenge, from apello. Mr. Pope.

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 ily.


Mowb. Let not my cold words here'accufe


'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 het 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 rev'rence of your Highness curbs me,
From giving reins and spurs to my free speech;
Which else would poft, 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 sland'rous cowa

ward, and a villain ;
Which to maintain, I would allow him odds,
And meet him, were I tyd to run 'a-foot
Even to the frozen ridges of the Alps,
Or any other ground unhabitables
Where never Englishman durft fèt his foot.
Mean time, let this defend my loyalty
By all my hopes, moft falfely 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 rev'rence, makes this to accept:) if guilty dread hath left thee fo much stretryth, As to take

up mine honour's pawn, then ftoop.
By that, and all the rights of knighthood elfe,
Will I make good against thee, arm to arin,
What I have spoken, or thou canst devise.

Mowb. I take it up, and by that sword I swear,
Which gently laid my knighthood on my shoulder,
l'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!

K. Rich.

A 2

Once more, the more to aggravate the note,
With a foul traitor's name stuff I thy throat;
And wish, so please my Sov’reign, ere 1 move,
What my tongue speaks, my right-drawn sword may prove.

Mowb. Let not, &c.

it true,

K. Rich. What doth our cousin lay to Mowbray's It must be great, that can inhabit us

[charge? So much as of a thought of ill in him. Boling. Look what I said, my

life shall

That Mowbray hath receiv'd eight thousand nobles,
In name of lendings for your Highness' soldiers,
The which he hath detain'd for lewd employments,
Like a false traitor and injurious villain.
Besides, 1 fay, and will in battle prove,
Or here, or elsewhere, to the furtheft 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 Gloucefter's death;
Suggest his soon-believing adversaries;
And consequently, like a traitor-coward,
Sluic'd out his inn'cent soul through streams of blood?
Which blood, like facrificing 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 Mall do it, or this life be spent.
..K. Rich: Hely high a pitch his resolution foars!
Thomas of Norfolk, what fay'st thou to this?

Mowb.. o, let my Sovereign turn away his face,
.And bid hiş 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 earse
Were he our brother, nay, our kingdom's heir,
As he is but our father's brother's son;
Now by my sceptre's awe, 1 make a vow,
Such neighbour-nearness to our facred blood
Should nothing priv'lege him, nor partialize
Th' unstooping firmnels of my upright foul.
He is our subject, Mowbray, fo art thou;
Free speech and fearless I to thee allow.

Mowb. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart Through the falfe passage of thy throat, thou lieft!


[ocr errors]
« AnteriorContinuar »