Page images
PDF
EPUB

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 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 Gloster'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.

K. Rich. How high a pitch his resolution soars !
Thomas of Norfolk what sayest thou to this?
Nor. Oh, 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.

K. Rich. Mowbray, impartial are our eyes and ears,
Were he my brother, nay, our 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 partialise
The unstooping firmness of my upright soul:
He is our subject, Mowbray; so art thou;
Free speech, and fearless, I to thee allow.

Nor. 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 Gloster'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 I did 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, hope, I had it.
This is my fault. As for the rest appealed,
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 chambered in his bosom :
In haste, whereof, most heartily I pray

Your highness to assign our trial day.

K. Rich. 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.
K. Rich. And, Norfolk, throw down his.

Gaunt. When, Harry, when?

Obedience bids, I should not bid again.

K. Rich. Norfolk, throw down, we bid; there is no boot. Nor. 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 disgraced, impeached, and baffled here;
Pierced to the soul with slander's venomed spear;
The which no balm can cure, but his heart-blood
Which breathed this poison.

K. Rich. Rage must be withstood:

Give me his gage:-Lions make leopards tame.

Nor. 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 honour is my life; both grow
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 I will die.

in one;

K. Rich. Cousin, throw down your gage; do you begin. Boling. O, heaven defend my soul from such foul sin! Shall I seem crest-fallen in my father's sight? Or with pale beggar fear impeach my height, Before this outdared dastard? Ere my tongue Shall wound mine honour 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.
K. Rich. 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, you shall see
Justice design the victor's chivalry.

Lord Marshal, command our officers at arms,
Be ready to direct these home-alarms.

SHAKESPERE.

Ben. I

pray

ROMEO AND JULIET.

Enter MERCUTIO and BENVOLIO.

thee, good Mercutio, let's retire;

The day is hot, the Capulets abroad;

And if we meet, we shall not 'scape a brawl,

For now these hot days is the mad blood stirring.

Mer. Thou art like one of those fellows, that when he enters the confines of a tavern, claps me his sword upon the table and says, "Heaven send me no need of thee!" and, by the operation of the second cup, draws it on the drawer, when indeed there is no need.

Ben. Am I like such a fellow?

Mer. Come, come, thou art as hot a Jack in thy mood as any in Italy and as soon moved to be moody, and as soon moody to be moved.

Ben. And what to?

Mer. Nay, an there were two such, we should have none shortly, for one would kill the other. Thou! why thou wilt quarrel with a man that hath a hair more, or a hair less, in his beard than thou hast; thou wilt quarrel with a man for cracking nuts, having no other reason than because thou hast hazel eyes; what eye, but such an eye would spy out such a quarrel? Thy head is as full of quarrels as an egg is full of meat: and yet thy head hath been beaten as addle as an egg, for quarrelling. Thou hast quarrelled with a man for coughing in the street, because he hath wakened thy dog that hath lain asleep in the sun. Didst thou not fall out with a tailor for wearing his new doublet before Easter? With another for tying his new shoes with old riband? And yet thou wilt tutor me from quarrelling!

Ben. An I were so apt to quarrel as thou art, any man should buy the fee-simple of my life for an hour and a quarter.

Mer. The fee-simple? O simple!

Enter TYBALT, and others,

Ben. By my head, here come the Capulets.

Mer. By my heel, I care not.

Tyb. Follow me close, for I will speak to them.
Gentlemen, good den: a word with one of you.
Mer. And but one word with one of us? Couple it
With something; make it a word and a blow.

Tyb. You will find me apt enough to that, sir, an you will give me occasion.

Mer. Could you not take some occasion without giving? Tyb. Mercutio, thou consortest with Romeo,—

Mer. Consort? What, dost thou make us minstrels? An thou make minstrels of us, look to hear nothing but discords; here's my fiddlestick; here is that shail make you dance. Zounds, consort! [Laying his hand on his sword. Ben. We talk here in the public haunt of men, Either withdraw unto some private place,

Or reason coldly of your grievances,

Or else depart; here all eyes gaze on us.

Mer. Men's eyes were made to look; and let them gaze, I will not budge for no man's pleasure, I.

Enter ROMEO.

Tyb. Well, peace be with you, sir, here comes my man. Mer. But, I'll be hanged, sir, if he wear your livery: Marry, go before to the field, he'll be your follower; Your worship in that sense may call him man.

Tyb. Romeo, the hate I bear thee, can afford
No better term than this-thou art a villain.
Rom. Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee
Doth much excuse the appertaining rage
To such a greeting :-Villain, am I none;
Therefore farewell; I see thou knowst me not.
Tyb. Boy, this shall not excuse the injuries that
Thou hast done me, therefore turn, and draw.
Rom. I do protest, I never injured thee,
But love thee better than thou canst devise,
Till thou shalt know the reason of my love :
And so, good Capulet, which name I tender
As dearly as mine own, be satisfied.

Mer. O calm, dishonourable, vile submission!
Alla stoccata carries it away.

Tybalt, you rat-catcher, will you walk ?

[Draws.

« PreviousContinue »