す

Som. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. War. Ay, fee the bishop be not over-borne. Som. Methinks, my lord fhould be religious, And know the office that belongs to fuch.

War. Methinks his lordfhip fhould be humbler; It fitteth not a prelate fo to plead.

Som. Yes, when his holy ftate is touch'd so near,
War. State holy or unhallow'd, what of that?
Is not his grace protector to the king?

Rich. Plantagenet, I fee, muft hold his tongue;
Left it be faid, Speak, firrah, when you should;
Muft your bold verdict enter talk with lords?
Elfe would I have a fling at Winchester. [Afide
K. Henry. Uncles of Glofter, and of Winchester,
The special watchmen of our English weal;
I would prevail, if prayers might prevail,
To join your hearts in love and amity.
Oh, what a fcandal is it to our crown,
That two fuch noble peers as ye, fhould jar!
Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell,
Civil diffention is a viperous worm,

That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.-
[A noife within; Down with the tawny coats!
What tumult's this?

War. An uproar, I dare warrant,

Begun through malice of the bishop's men.

[A noife within, Stones! Stones

Enter the Mayor of London, attended.

Mayor. Oh, my good lords--and virtuous Henry-
Pity the city of London, pity us!

The bishop and the duke of Glofter's men,
Forbidden late to carry any weapon,

Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble-ftones;

And

And, banding themselves in contrary parts,
Do pelt fo fast at one another's pate,

That many have their giddy brains knock'd out; Our windows are broke down in every street, And we, for fear, compell'd to fhut our fhops.

Enter Men in Skirmish, with bloody Pates. K.Henry. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your flaught'ring hands, and keep the peace. Pray, uncle Glofter, mitigate this ftrife.

1 Serv. Nay, if we be

Forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth.

2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as refolute;

[Skirmish again. Glo. You of my houfehold, leave this peevish broil, And fet this unaccustom'd fight aside.

3

Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a man Juft and upright; and, for your royal birth Inferior to none, but to his majesty:

And, ere that we will fuffer fuch a prince,
So kind a father of the common-weal,
To be difgraced by an inkhorn mate,

We, and our wives, and children, all will fight,
And have our bodies flaughter'd by thy foes.

1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field when we are dead. [Begin again. Glo. Stay, ftay, I fay!

And, if you love me, as you fay you do,
Let me perfuade you to forbear awhile.

K. Henry. Oh, how this difcord doth afflict my
Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold [foul!~
My fighs and tears, and will not once relent?
Who fhould be pitiful, if you be not?
Or who fhould ftudy to prefer a peace,

If holy churchmen take delight in broils?

War. My lord protector, yield;-yield, Winchef Except you mean, with obftinate repulfe, [ter, To flay your fovereign, and deftroy the realm. You fee what mischief, and what murder too, Hath been enacted through your enmity; Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. Win. He fhall fubmit, or I will never yield. Glo. Compaffion on the king commands me ftoop; Or, I would fee his heart out, ere the priest Should ever get that privilege of me.

War. Behold, my lord of Winchefter, the duke Hath banifh'd moody difcontented fury, As by his fmoothed brows it doth appear: Why look you ftill fo ftern and tragical?

Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. K. Henry. Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach,

That malice was a great and grievous fin,
And will not you maintain the thing you teach,
But prove a chief offender in the fame?

War. Sweet king!-the bifhop hath a kindly gird. For fhame, my lord of Winchester! relent; What, fhall a child inftruct you what to do?

Win. Well, duke of Glofter, I will yield to thee; Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give.

Glo. Ay; but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.See here, my friends, and loving countrymen; This token ferveth for a flag of truce,

Betwixt ourselves, and all our followers:
So help me God, as I diffemble not!

Win. [Afide. ] So help me God, as I intend it not! K. Henry. O loving uncle, kind duke of Glofter, How joyful am I made by this contract !—

Away,

Away, my masters! trouble us no more; But join in friendship, as your lords have done, 1 Serv. Content; I'll to the furgeon's.

2 Serv. So will I.

3-Serv. And I will fee what phyfick The tavern affords.

[Exeunt. War. Accept this feroll, moft gracious fovereign; Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet We do exhibit to your majefty..

Glo. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick ;-for, fweet prince,

An if your grace mark every circumftance,
You have great reafon to do Richard right:
Efpecially, for thofe occafions

At Eltham-place I told your majefty.

K. Henry. And thofe occafions, uncle, were of force:

Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is,
That Richard be restored to his blood.

War. Let Richard be reftored to his blood;
So fhall his father's wrongs be recompens'd.
Win. As will the reft, fo willeth Winchefter.
K. Henry. If Richard will be true, not that alone,
But all the whole inheritance I give,
That doth belong unto the houfe of York,
From whence you fpring by lineal descent.
Rich. Thy humble fervant vows obedience,
And humble fervice, 'till the point of death.
K. Henry. Stoop then, and set your knee against
And, in reguerdon of that duty done, [my foot;
I gird thee with the valiant sword of York:
Rife, Richard, like a true Plantagenet ;
And rife created princely duke of York.
Rich. And fo thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall:

And

And as my duty springs, fo perifh they
That grudge one thought againft your majesty!
All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke of
York!

Som. Perifh, bafe prince, ignoble duke of York!
[Afide.

Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty,
To cross the feas, and to be crown'd in France :
The prefence of a king engenders love

Amongst his fubjects, and his loyal friends;
And it difanimates his enemies.

K. Henry. When Glofter fays the word, king Henry
For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
Gl. Your fhips already are in readiness.

[goes;

[Exeunt all but EXETER. Exe. Ay, we may march in England, or in France, Not feeing what is likely to enfue:

This late diffention, grown betwixt the peers,
Burns under feigned afhes of forg'd love,
And will at last break out into a flame:
As fefter'd members rot but by degrees,
'Till bones, and flesh, and finews, fall away;
So will this base and envious difcord breed.
And now I fear that fatal prophecy,

Which, in the time of Henry, nam'd the fifth,
Was in the mouth of every fucking babe-
That Henry, born at Monmouth, thould win all;
And Henry, born at Windsor, should lofe all:
Which is fo plain, that Exeter doth wish

His days may finish ere that hapless time. [Exit.

SCENE