York, at a distance from his followers.
From Ireland thus comes York to claim his Right,
And pluck the Crown from feeble Henry's head.
Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright,
To entertain great England's lawful King.
Ah Majesty! who would not buy thee dear?
Let them obey, that know not how to rule.
This hand was made to handle nought but gold,
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a sword, or scepter, balance it.* ^note
A scepter shall it have, have I a soul,† ^note
On which I'll toss the Flower-de-luce of France. Enter Buckingham.
Whom have we here? Buckingham to disturb me?
The King hath sent him, sure. I must dissemble.

Buck.
York, if thou mean'st well, I greet thee well.

York.
Humphry of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.
Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?

Buck.
A messenger from Henry our dread Liege,
To know the reason of these Arms in Peace?
Or why, thou, being a Subject as I am,
Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn,

Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave,
Or dare to bring thy force so near the Court?

York.
Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. Aside.
Oh! I could hew up rocks and fight with flint, Aside.
I am angry at these abject terms. Aside.
And now, like Ajax Telemonius, Aside.
On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. Aside.
I am far better born than is the King, Aside.
More like a King, more kingly in my thoughts. Aside.
But I must make fair weather yet a while, Aside.
Till Henry be more weak and I more strong. Aside.
O Buckingham! I pr'ythee, pardon me,
That I have giv'n no answer all this while;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The cause, why I have brought this army hither,
Is to remove proud Somerset from the King,
Seditious to his Grace and to the State.

Buck.
That is too much presumption on thy part;
But if thy arms be to no other end,
The King hath yielded unto thy demand,
The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.

York.
Upon thine Honour is he prisoner?

Buck.
Upon mine Honour, he is prisoner.

York.
Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my Powers.
—Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves;
Meet me to morrow in St. George's field,
You shall have Pay and every thing you wish.
—And let my Sovereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest son; nay, all my sons,
As pledges of my fealty and love,
I'll send them all as willing as I live;
Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have
Is his to use, so Somerset may die.

Buck.
York, I commend this kind submission,
We twain will go into his Highness' tent. [Exeunt.

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