Winchester.
Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines,
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd,
Humphrey of Glo'ster? If thou can'st accuse,
Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,
Do it without invention suddenly;
As I with sudden and extemporal speech
Purpose to answer what thou canst object.

Glou.
Presumptuous Priest, this place commands my patience,
Or thou shouldst find, thou hast dishonour'd me.
Think not, altho' in writing I prefer'd
The manner of thy vile outragious crimes,
That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able
Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen.
No, Prelate, such is thy audacious wickedness,
Thy lewd, pestif'rous, and dissentious pranks,
The very Infants prattle of thy pride.
Thou art a most pernicious usurer,
Froward by nature, enemy to peace,
Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems
A man of thy profession and degree.
And for thy treach'ry, what's more manifest?
In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life,
As well at London-bridge, as at the Tower.
Beside I fear me if thy thoughts were sifted,

The King thy Sovereign is not quite exempt
From envious malice of thy swelling heart.

Win.
Glo'ster, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe
To give me hearing what I shall reply.
If I were covetous, perverse, ambitious,
As he will have me, how am I so poor?
How haps it then, I seek not to advance
Or raise myself, but keep my wonted Calling?
And for dissention, who preferreth peace
More than I do except I be provok'd?
No, my good Lords, it is not that offends;
It is not that, which hath incens'd the Duke;
It is, because no one should sway but he,
No one, but he, should be about the King;
And that engenders thunder in his breast,
And makes him roar these accusations forth.
But he shall know, I am as good—

Glou.
As good?
Thou bastard of my grandfather!

Win.
Ay, lordly Sir; for what are you, I pray,
But one imperious in another's throne?

Glou.
Am not I then Protector, saucy priest?

Win.
And am not I a prelate of the Church?

Glou.
Yes, as an out-law in a castle keeps,
And uses it to patronage his theft.

Win.
Unrev'rend Glo'ster!

Glou.
Thou art reverend
Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.

Win.
This Rome shall remedy.

War.
Roam thither then.

Som.
My Lord, it were your duty to forbear.

War.
Ay, see, the Bishop be not over-borne.

Som.
Methinks, my Lord should be religious;
And know the office that belongs to such.

War.
Methinks, his Lordship should be humbler then;
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.

Som.
Yes, when his holy state 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 see, must hold his tongue;
Lest it be said, ‘Speak, sirrah, when you should,
Must your bold verdict enter talk with Lords?’
Else would I have a fling at Winchester.

K. Henry.
Uncles of Glo'ster, 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 scandal is it to our Crown,
That two such noble peers as ye should jar!
Believe me, Lords, my tender years can tell
Civil dissention is a vip'rous worm,
That gnaws the bowels of the Common-wealth. [A noise within; Down with the tawny coats.

K. Henry.
What tumult's this?

War.
An uproar, I dare warrant,
Begun thro' malice of the Bishop's men. [A noise again, Stones, Stones.

Next section