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, Rich. Plantagenet, I fee, muft hold his tongue; That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.- 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- The bishop and the duke of Glofter's men, Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble-ftones; And And, banding themselves in contrary parts, 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, We, and our wives, and children, all will fight, 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, K. Henry. Oh, how this difcord doth afflict my 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, 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: 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, At Eltham-place I told your majefty. K. Henry. And thofe occafions, uncle, were of force: Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is, War. Let Richard be reftored to his blood; And And as my duty springs, fo perifh they Som. Perifh, bafe prince, ignoble duke of York! Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty, Amongst his fubjects, and his loyal friends; K. Henry. When Glofter fays the word, king Henry [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, Which, in the time of Henry, nam'd the fifth, His days may finish ere that hapless time. [Exit. SCENE |