SURREY My lord Fitzwater, I do remember well
The very time Aumerle and you did talk.
FITZWATER ’Tis very true, you were in presence then
And you can witness with me this is true.
SURREY As false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true.
FITZWATER Surrey, thou liest.
SURREY Dishonourable boy,
That lie shall lie so heavy on my sword
That it shall render vengeance and revenge
Till thou the lie-giver and that lie do lie
In earth as quiet as thy father’s skull.
In proof whereof, there is my honour’s pawn,
Engage it to the trial if thou dar’st. (4.1.62-72)
This is where the scene really does threaten to get out of control, not least rhetorically: here’s another hitherto uninvolved character, Surrey, coming in on Aumerle’s side, and calling Fitzwater a liar. He starts politely: my lord Fitzwater, I do remember well the very time Aumerle and you did talk; it’s as if he’s going to confirm Fitzwater’s accusation, that he heard Aumerle boast of being responsible for Gloucester’s death. Very time means the exact time, but it also parallels and so anticipates Fitzwater’s very true: very means true, and the quibbling on very meaning true and as an intensifier (here perhaps ironised: something is either true or it isn’t, although very true, idiomatically at least, is about emphasis, rather than suggesting that there are degrees of truth) sets up rest of the exchange, which pivots around true/false and then a long drawn-out play on lie. You were in presence then, says Fitzwater, that’s right, you were there (possibly suggesting in the presence, that is, the King’s presence, at court), and you can witness with me this is true. Surrey’s not playing, though: as false, by heaven, as heaven itself is true. By heaven, I swear; I heard nothing of the sort. Surrey, thou liest, retorts Fitzwater, lying again the crucial accusation. Then Surrey lets rip: Dishonourable boy (deeply insulting, suggesting not just immaturity but cowardice and weakness), that lie (the accusation that I’m a liar, and the lie that you’re telling) shall lie so heavy on my sword, be such a motivation, that it will render, return to you, vengeance and revenge (these are, of course, the same thing: Surrey is very angry and repeating himself for rhetorical effect) until thou the lie-giver (you are a liar; you gave me the lie) and that lie (the one you just told; the lie you gave me) do lie in earth as quiet as thy father’s skull. Phew. Thy father’s skull gives a grotesque touch, something real to picture and hold on to as the wordplay spins and twists. And the inevitable conclusion: in proof whereof, there is my honour’s pawn, engage it to the trial if thou dar’st. Another glove, another challenge, this time to Fitzwater; someone has, at last, come in on Aumerle’s (and so Richard’s) side.
Surrey’s intervention here is another element that Shakespeare takes from Holinshed. Historically, Surrey, Thomas Holland, earl of Kent, was King Richard’s nephew, the son of his half-brother. He, Mowbray, Bolingbroke, and Aumerle had all been created dukes at the same time; historically he was only in his mid-20s at the time of the play’s action, around the same age as Aumerle, and younger than Fitzwater. But there’s a bit of a generational divide emerging, as the young men square up to each other, and Bolingbroke continues to bide his time.
