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  • Title: Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)
  • Editor: Catherine Lisak
  • ISBN: 978-1-55058-436-3

    Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Editor: Catherine Lisak
    Peer Reviewed

    Richard II (Quarto 1, 1597)

    The Tragedie of
    To darke dishonours vse thou shalt not haue:
    I am disgraste, impeacht, and baffuld heere,
    Pierst to the soule with Slaunders venomd speare,
    The which no balme can cure but his heart bloud
    180Which breathde this poyson.
    King. Rage must be withstoode,
    Giue me his gage; Lions make Leopards tame.
    Mowb. Yea but not change his spots : take but my shame,
    And I resigne my gage, my deare deare Lord,
    185The purest treasure mortall times afford,
    Is spotlesse Reputation that away
    Men are but guilded loame, or painted clay,
    A iewell in a ten times bard vp chest,
    Is a bold spirit in a loyall breast:
    190Mine honour is my life, both grow in one,
    Take honour from me, and my life is done :
    Then (deare my Liege) mine honour let me trie,
    In that I liue, and for that will I die.
    King. Coosin, throw vp your gage, do you beginne.
    Bull. O God defend my soule from such deepe sinne,
    Shall I seeme Crest-fallen in my fathers fight?
    Or with pale beggar-feare impeach my height,
    Before this out-darde Dastard? ere my tong
    200Shall wound my honour with such feeble wrong,
    Or sound so base a parlee, my teeth shall teare
    The slauish motiue of recanting feare,
    And spit it bleeding in his high disgrace,
    Where Shame doth harbour euen in Mowbraies face.
    King. We were not borne to sue, but to commaund,
    Which since we cannot do, to make you friends,
    Be ready as your liues shall answere it,
    At Couentry vpon saint Lamberts day,
    210There shall your swords and launces arbitrate
    The swelling difference of your setled hate,
    Since we cannot atone you, we shall see
    Iustice designe the Victors chiualrie,
    Lord Marshal, commaund our Officers at Armes,