Win.
Com'st thou with deep premeditated Lines?
With written Pamphlets, studiously devis'd?
Humphry of Glo'ster, if thou canst accuse,
Or ought 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.

Glo.
Presumptuous Priest, this place commands my patience,
Or thou should'st find thou hast dishonour'd me.
Think not, although in Writing I preferr'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 leud, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks,
As 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 Treachery, 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 m , if thy Thoughts were sifted,
The King, thy Soveraign, is not quite exempt
From envious malice of thy swelling Heart.

Win.
Glo'ster, I do defie thee. Lords, vouchsafe
To give me hearing what I shall reply.
If I were Covetous, Ambitious, or Perverse,
As he will have me; how am I so poor?
Or how haps it, I seek not to advance
Or raise my self? 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, that 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—

Glo.
As good?
Thou Bastard of my Grandfather.

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

Glo.
Am not I Protector, sawcy Priest?

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

Glo.
Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keeps,
And useth it, to patronage his Theft.

Win.
Unreverend Glocester.

Glo.
Thou art Reverend,
Touching thy spiritual Function, not thy Life.

Win.
Rome shall remedy this.

War.
Roam thither then.
My Lord, it were your duty to forbear.

Som.
Ay, see the Bishop be not over-born:
Methinks my Lord should be Religious,
And know the Office that belongs to such.

War.
Methinks his Lordship should be humbler,
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.
Plantaganet 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 viperous Worm,
That gnaws the Bowels of the Common-wealth. [A noise within; Down with the Tawny Coats.

K. Henry.
What Tumult is this?

War.
An Uproar, I dare warrant,
Begun through malice of the Bishop's Men. [A noise again, Stones, Stones. Enter Mayor.

Mayor.
Oh, my good Lords, and virtuous Henry,
Pity the City of London, pity us:
The Bishop, and the Duke of Glo'ster's Men,
Forbidden late to carry any Weapon,
Have fill'd their Pockets full of peble Stones;
And banding themselves in contrary Parts,
Do pelt so 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 shut our Shops. Enter in skirmish with bloody Pates.

K. Henry.
We charge you on Allegiance to our selves,
To hold your slaughtering Hands, and keep the Peace:
Pray, Uncle Glo'ster, mitigate this Strife.

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 resolute. [Skirmish again.

Glo.
You of my houshold leave this peevish broil,
And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.

3 Serv.
My Lord, we know your Grace to be a Man
Just, and upright; and for your Royal Birth,
Inferior to none, but to his Majesty:
And e'er that we will suffer such a Prince,
So kind a Father of the Common Weal,
To be disgraced by an Ink-horn Mate,

We, and our Wives and Children, all will fight,
And have our Bodies slaughter'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, stay, I say,
And if you love me, as you say you do,
Let me persuade you to forbear a while.

K. Henry.
Oh how this discord doth afflict my Soul!
Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold
My Sighs and Tears, and will not once relent?
Who should be pitiful, if you be not?
Or who should study to prefer a Peace,
If Holy Church-men take delight in Broils?

War.
Yield, my Lord Protector, yield Winchester;
Except you mean with obstinate Repulse
To slay your Sovereign, and destroy the Realm.
You see what Mischief, and what Murther too,
Hath been enacted through your Enmity:
Then be at Peace, except ye thirst for Blood.

Win.
He shall submit, or I will never yield.

Glo.
Compassion on the King commands me stoop,
Or I would see his Heart out, e'er the Priest
Should ever get that privilege of me.

War.
Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the Duke
Hath banish'd moody discontented Fury,
As by his smoothed Brows it doth appear:
Why look you still so Stern and Tragical?

Glo.
Here, Winchester, I offer thee my Hand.

K. Henry.
Fie, Uncle Beauford, I have heard you preach,
That Malice was a great and grievous Sin:
And will not you maintain the thing you teach?
But prove a chief Offender in the same.

War.
Sweet King; the Bishop hath a kindly gird:
For Shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent;
What, shall a Child instruct you what to do?

Win.
Well, Duke of Glo'ster, 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 serveth for a Flag of Truce,
Betwixt our selves, and all our Followers:

So help me God, as I dissemble not.

Win.
So help me God, as I intend it not.

K. Henry.
Oh, loving Uncle, kind Duke of Glo'ster,
How joyful am I made by this Contract!
Away, my Masters, trouble us no more,
But join in Friendship, as your Lords have done.

1 Serv.
Content, I'll to the Surgeon's.

2 Serv.
And so will I.

3 Serv.
And I will see what Physick the Tavern affords. [Exeunt.

War.
Accept this Scrowl, most gracious Sovereign,
Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet,
We do exhibit to your Majesty.

Glo.
Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick; for, sweet Prince,
And if your Grace mark every Circumstance,
You have great reason to do Richard right,
Especially for those Occasions
At Eltham Place I told your Majesty.

K. Henry.
And those Occasions, Uncle, were of force:
Therefore, my loving Lords, our pleasure is,
That Richard be restored to his Blood.

War.
Let Richard be restored to his Blood,
So shall his Father's Wrongs be recompens'd.

Win.
As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.

K. Henry.
If Richard will be true, not that alone,
But all the whole Inheritance I give
That doth belong unto the House of York,
From whence you spring, by lineal Descent.

Rich.
Thy humble Servant vows Obedience,
And humble Service 'till the point of Death.

K. Henry.
Stoop then, and set your Knee against my Foot,
And in reguerdon of that Duty done,
I gird thee with the valiant Sword of York.
Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
And rise created Princely Duke of York,

Rich.
And so thrive Richard, as thy Foes may fall,
And as my Duty springs, so perish they
That grudge one Thought against your Majesty.

All.
Welcome, high Prince, the mighty Duke of York.

Som.
Perish, base Prince, ignoble Duke of York. [Aside.

Glo.
Now will it best avail your Majesty,
To cross the Seas, and to be crown'd in France:
The presence of a King engenders Love,
Amongst his Subjects and his loyal Friends,
As it disenimates his Enemies.

K. Henry.
When Glo'ster says the word, King Henry goes,
For friendly Counsel cuts off many Foes.

Glo.
Your Ships already are in readiness. [Exeunt. Manet Exeter.

Exe.
Ay, we may march in England or in France,
Not seeing what is likely to ensue;
This late Dissention grown betwixt the Peers,
Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd Love,
And will at last break out into a Flame,
As fester d Members rot but by degrees,
'Till Bones, and Flesh, and Sinews fall away;
So will this base and envious Discord breed.
And now I fear that fatal Prophecy
Which in the time of Henry nam'd the Fifth,
Was in the Mouth of every sucking Babe,
That Henry born at Monmouth should win all,
And Henry born at Windsor should lose all:
Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish,
His days may finish e'er that hapless time. [Exit.

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