ruth, here shortly shall be seen, In the remembrance of a weeping queen. Call forth Bagot. Now, Bagot, freely speak thy mind; What thou dost know of noble Gloucester's death, Who wrought it with the king, and who perform'd The bloody office of his timeless end. Then set before my face the Lord Aumerle. Cousin, stand forth, and look upon that man. My Lord Aumerle, I know your daring tongue Scorns to unsay what once it hath deliver'd. In that dead time when Gloucester's death was plotted, I heard you say, 'Is not my arm of length, That reacheth from the restful English court As far as Calais, to mine uncle's head?' Amongst much other talk, that very time, I heard you say that you had rather refuse The offer of an hundred thousand crowns Than Bolingbroke's return to England; Adding withal how blest this land would be In this your cousin's death. Princes and noble lords, What answer shall I make to this base man? Shall I so much dishonour my fair stars, On equal terms to give him chastisement? Either I must, or have mine honour soil'd With the attainder of his slanderous lips. There is my gage, the manual seal of death, That marks thee out for hell: I say, thou liest, And will maintain what thou hast said is false In thy heart-blood, though being all too base To stain the temper of my knightly sword. Bagot, forbear; thou shalt not take it up. Excepting one, I would he were the best In all this presence that hath moved me so. If that thy valour stand on sympathy, There is my gage, Aumerle, in gage to thine: By that fair sun which shows me where thou stand'st, I heard thee say, and vauntingly thou spakest it That thou wert cause of noble Gloucester's death. If thou deny'st it twenty times, thou liest; And I will turn thy falsehood to thy heart, Where it was forged, with my rapier's point. Thou darest not, coward, live to see that day. Now by my soul, I would it were this hour. Fitzwater, thou art damn'd to hell for this. Aumerle, thou liest; his honour is as true In this appeal as thou art all unjust; And that thou art so, there I throw my gage, To prove it on thee to the extremest point Of mortal breathing: seize it, if thou darest. An if I do not, may my hands rot off And never brandish more revengeful steel Over the glittering helmet of my foe! I task the earth to the like, forsworn Aumerle;