friends to Heralds, two Gardner's, Kieper, Percy, fon to Nor-Bolingbroke. thumberland, Mefonger, Groom, and other SCENE dispersedly, in feveral parts of England. ACT I. SCENE É AR The court. Enter King Richard, John of Gaunt, with other Nobles and Attendants. K. Rich. OLD John of Gaunt, time-honour'd Lancaster, Haft thou, according to thy oath and bond, A Gaunt. Gaunt. I have, my Liege. K. Rich. Tell me moreover, haft thou founded him, If he appeal the Duke on ancient malice, Or worthily, as a good fubject should, On fome known ground of treachery in him? Gaunt. As near as I could fift him on that argument, On fome apparent danger feen in him Aim'd at your Highness; no invet❜rate malice. K. Rich. Then call them to our prefence; face to face, And frowning brow to brow, ourselves will hear Th' accufer and th' accufed freely speak: High-ftomach'd are they both, and full of ire; In rage, deaf as the fea; hafty as fire. SCENE II. Enter Bolingbroke and Mowbray. Boling. May many years of happy days befal K. Rich. We thank you both, yet one but flatters us, As well appeareth by the caufe you come; Namely, appeal each other of high-treafon. Tendring the precious fafety of my prince, Могов. ↑ i. e. Call, demand, challenge, from apello. Mr. Pope. a mifcreant; Too good to be fo, and too bad to live; Once Mowb. Let not my cold words here accufe Tis not the trial of a woman's war, The bitter clamour of two eager tongues, Call him a fland'rous coward, and a villain; Boling. Pale trembling coward, there I throw my gage, Mowb. I take it up, and by that fword I swear, Or chivalrous defign of knightly trial; If I be traitor, or unjustly fight! A. 2 Once more, the more to aggravate the note, K. Rich. What my tongue fpeaks, my right-drawn fword may prove. K. Rich. What doth our coufin lay to Mowbray's It must be great, that can inhabit us So much as of a thought of ill in him. [charge? Boling. Look what I faid, my life fhall prove it true, Fetch from falfe Mowbray their firft head and fpring. And confequently, like a traitor-coward, Sluic'd out his inn'cent foul through streams of blood? Even from the tongueless caverns of the earth, And, by the glorious worth of my defcent, This arm fhall do it, or this life be spent. ...K. Rith: Helv-high a pitch his refolution foars! Fill I have told this flander of his blood, How God and good men hate fo foul a liar. K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears. Were he our brother, nay, our kingdom's heir, As he is but our father's brother's fon; Now by my fceptre's awe, I make a vow, Such neighbour-nearnefs to our facred blood Should nothing priv'lege him, nor partialize Th' unftooping firmnefs of my upright foul. He is our fubject, Mowbray, fo art thou; Free speech and fearless I to thee allow. Mowb. Then, Bolingbroke, as low as to thy heart Through the falfe paffage of thy throat, thou lieft! Three |