RICHARD 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.
[To Gaunt] 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.
RICHARD And Norfolk, throw down his.
GAUNT When, Harry, when?
Obedience bids I should not bid again.
RICHARD Norfolk, throw down, we bid, there is no boot.
MOWBRAY [kneeling] Myself I throw, dread sovereign, at thy foot… (1.1.152-165)
Richard intervenes, finally, but apparently to defuse the situation, rather than to set a date for the trial by combat. It’s a slightly flippant response, or can be played that way (not least because of the use of rhyme): you’re over-heated (wrath-kindled), too full of choler, anger, but this imbalance can be purged, corrected, without bloodshed, and that’s what I prescribe, even though I’m no physician. Blood-letting was one of the standard medical treatments for all sorts of ailments, entirely familiar to Shakespeare’s audience; the conceit of violent bloodshed as a medical purgation, a humoral rebalancing, is quite common, and here the sense is extended to the body politic, as well as being applied to Bolingbroke and Mowbray as individuals. They are so full of choler, and deep malice, hatred, that they risk making too deep an incision, actually killing each other and doing real harm, both to themselves and to the realm. (The lancets used for blood-letting were small, the incisions precise.) So, forgive and forget, make up, shake hands and be done with it: our doctors say this is no month to bleed. (Many medical practices, not just phlebotomy, were governed by astrology, the phases of the moon, and calendrical concerns more generally, and these would have been familiar to the audience through almanacs, although there was increasing skepticism about such practices, at least in medical circles. The diary of Simon Forman, physician and astrologer, is one of the most significant sources for the early performances of Shakespeare’s plays, and he was consulted by those of all social statuses, including Marie Mountjoy, Shakespeare’s landlady a few years after the composition of this play.) Richard brings Gaunt back in and it seems as if the scene has come full circle (let this end where it begun): I’ll calm down Mowbray, he says, and you do the same for your son. Gaunt is keen: to be a peacemaker is appropriate in one of his age, he says, and he exhorts Bolingbroke to take back his acceptance of Mowbray’s challenge, by throwing down once more the gage or glove that he has picked up. You do the same, says the King to Mowbray. But Bolingbroke’s having none of it—come on, his father says, do it, now, you’re my son, he’s your sovereign, I shouldn’t have to ask twice. And, come on Mowbray, repeats Richard, throw it down, you don’t have any other choice. But Mowbray’s having none of it either. Both gages remain on the ground, and Mowbray now kneels in angry supplication himself before the King. (Again, the stage picture is important here: who’s standing, sitting, kneeling, and in relation to whom. Paradoxically, Mowbray’s kneeling seizes the initiative, and makes him, at least temporarily, the focus of the scene.)
