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Look what I speak, my life shall prove it true-

          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, I say and will in battle prove-

          Or here, or elsewhere to the furthest verge

          That ever was survey'd 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 Gloucester's death,

          Suggest his soon-believing adversaries,

          And consequently, like a traitor coward,

          Sluic'd 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 RICHARD. 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 RICHARD. 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 neighbour 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

          Disburs'd I duly to his Highness' soldiers;

          The other part reserv'd 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 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.

          In haste whereof, most heartily I pray

          Your Highness to assign our trial day.

        KING RICHARD. 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 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 RICHARD. And, Norfolk, throw down his.

        GAUNT. When, Harry, when?

          Obedience bids I should not bid again.

        KING RICHARD. 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 dishonour's use thou shalt not have.

          I am disgrac'd, impeach'd, and baffl'd 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.

        KING RICHARD. 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 barr'd-up chest

          Is a bold spirit in a loyal breast.

          Mine honour is my life; both grow in one;

          Take honour from me, and my life is done:

          Then, dear my liege, mine honour let me try;

          In that I live, and for that will I die.

        KING RICHARD. Cousin, throw up your gage; do you begin.

        BOLINGBROKE. O, God defend my

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