FITZWATER   How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse!

If I dare eat or drink or breathe or live,

I dare meet Surrey in a wilderness

And spit upon him whilst I say he lies

And lies and lies. There is my bond of faith

To tie thee to my strong correction.

As I intend to thrive in this new world,

Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal.

Besides, I heard the banished Norfolk say

That thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men

To execute the noble Duke at Calais.           (4.1.73-83)

Fitzwater is really getting into his stride here, in his furious, mocking, insulting needling of Surrey. How fondly dost thou spur a forward horse! You’re only encouraging me, adding fuel to fire with your defiance, as foolish as spurring on a horse that’s already champing at the bit. If I dare eat or drink or breathe or live, if I’m bold enough to do those ordinary, taken-for-granted things (heavy sarcasm), then I’m certainly prepared to meet Surrey in a wilderness (switching to the third person, for added insult and impact)—not even to fight, but to spit upon him, adding insult upon insult, whilst I say he lies and lies and lies. (And so Fitzwater takes over Surrey’s own quibbling on the lie and gives it a grim single emphasis.) There is my bond of faith—another glove hits the stage!—to tie thee to my strong correction, as a sign and a witness of the contract between us, my promise to beat you, punish you, show that you’re the liar and I speak in good faith.

And Fitzwater is entirely transparent about his motivations in speaking this way: I intend to thrive in this new world. This is a declaration of allegiance to Bolingbroke, whose new world implicitly (and increasingly explicitly) this is, but it’s also a world of pragmatism, of brutal cost-benefit analysis, of self-interest. Aumerle is guilty of my true appeal. Almost an afterthought, Fitzwater adds that he was a witness too, but of another incriminating conversation: I heard the banished Norfolk say (that’s Mowbray! the other guy from Act 1! he must be on stage, somewhere, doubling—not impossibly Fitzwater himself, which would be sly and effective) that thou, Aumerle, didst send two of thy men (nicely specific, circumstantial evidence; none of this euphemism about arms being long enough to reach across the channel) to execute the noble Duke at Calais. Well. The gloves are, as it were, off. Bolingbroke is still holding back, watching, waiting…