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Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too loud; | The argument you held, was wrong in you; The garden here is more convenient.

Plan. Then say at once, If I maintain'd the truth;

Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error?
Suf. 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law;
And never yet could frame my will to it;
And, therefore, frame the law unto my will.
Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then
between us.

War. Between two hawks, which flies the high

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Between two horses, which doth bear him best;
Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye;
I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment:
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
The truth appears so naked on my side,
That any purblind eye may find it out.

Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, So clear, so shining, and so evident,

That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. Plan. Since you are tongue-ty'd, and so loath to speak,

In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts:
Let him, that is a true-born gentleman,
And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,
From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.
Som. Let him, that is no coward, nor no flat-

But dare maintain the party of the truth,
Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.
War. I love no colours; and, without all colour
Of base insinuating flattery,

I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet.
Suf. Ipluck this red rose, with young Somerset;
And say withal, I think he held the right.
Ver. Stay, lords, and gentlemen; and pluck

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I pluck this pale, and maiden blossom here,
Giving my verdict on the white rose side.
Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off;
Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red,
And fall on my side so against your will.

Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,
Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt,
And keep me on the side where still I am.
Som. Well, well, come on: Who else?
Law. Unless my study and my books be false,

[To Somerset. In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too. Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? Som. Here, in my scabbard; meditating that, Shall die your white rose in a bloody red.

Plan. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit

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That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.

Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him and thee.

Suf. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole ! We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him. War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him,

Somerset ;

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On any plot of ground in Christendom:
Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge,
For treason executed in our late king's days?
And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted,
Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry?
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;
And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman.

Plan. My father was attached, not attainted;
Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor;
And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
For your partaker Poole, and you yourself,
I'll note you in my book of memory,
To scourge you for this apprehension:
Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd.

Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still : And know us, by these colours, for thy foes; For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear.

Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry


As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I for ever, and my faction, wear;

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And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit. Som. Have with thee, Poole.-Farewell, ambitious Richard. [Exit. Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure it!

War. This blot, that they object against your house,

Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament,
Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster:
And, if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Mean time, in signal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerset, and William Poole,
Will I upon thy party wear this rose:
And here I prophecy,-This brawl to-day,
Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden,
Shall send, between the red rose and the white,
A thousand souls to death and deadly night.
Plan. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.
Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same.
Law. And so will I.

Plan. Thanks, gentle sir.
Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say,
This quarrel will drink blood another day.


SCENE V.-The same. A room in the Tower.

Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair by two Keepers.

Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,
Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.-
Even like a man new haled from the rack,
So fare my limbs with long imprisonment:
And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death,
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
These eyes,-like lamps whose wasting oil is

Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:
Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning grief;
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine
That droops his sapless branches to the ground:-
Yet are these feet-whose strengthless stay is

Unable to support this lump of clay,-
Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,
As witting I no other comfort have.-
But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?
1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will


We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber; And answer was return'd, that he will come. Mor. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.

Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, (Before whose glory I was great in arms,)

This loathsome sequestration have I had ;
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance:
But now, the arbitrator of despairs,
Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence;
I would, his troubles likewise were expir'd,
That so he might recover what was lost.


1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is


Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend? Is he come?

Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd, Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes. Mor. Direct mine arms, I may embrace his neck,

And in his bosom spend my latter gasp:
O, tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.—
And now declare, sweet stem from York's great

Why didst thou say-of late thou wert despis'd?
Plan. First, lean thine aged back against mine


And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.
This day, in argument upon a case,

Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me:
Among which terms he used his lavish tongue,
And did upbraid me with my father's death;
Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,
Else with the like I had requited him:
Therefore, good uncle,-for my father's sake,
In honour of a true Plantagenet,

And for alliance' sake,-declare the cause
My father, earl of Cambridge, lost his head.

Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd


And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth, Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease.

Plan. Discover more at large what cause that


For I am ignorant, and cannot guess.

Mor. I will; if that my fading breath permit, And death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry the fourth, grandfather to this king, Depos'd his nephew Richard; Edward's son, The first-begotten, and the lawful heir Of Edward king, the third of that descent: During whose reign, the Percies of the north, Finding his usurpation most unjust, Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne: The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this, Was-for that (young king Richard thus remov'd, Leaving no heir begotten of his body,) I was the next by birth and parentage; For by my mother I derived am From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son To king Edward the third, whereas he From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, Being but fourth of that heroic line.

But mark; as, in this haughty great attempt,
They laboured to plant the rightful heir,
I lost my liberty, and they their lives.
Long after this, when Henry the fifth,-
Succeeding his father Bolingbroke,-did reign,
Thy father, earl of Cambridge,-then deriv'd
From famous Edmund Langley, duke of York,
Marrying my sister, that thy mother was,
Again, in pity of my hard distress,
Levied an army; weening to redeem,
And have install'd me in the diadem:
But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl,
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
In whom the title rested, were suppress'd.
Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is the


Mor. True; and thou seest, that I no issue have; And that my fainting words do warrant death: Thou art my heir; the rest, I wish thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care.

Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with


But yet, methinks, my father's execution
Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.

Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic;
Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster,
And, like a mountain, not to be remov❜d.
But now thy uncle is removing hence;
As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd
With long continuance in a settled place.

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slaught'rer doth,

Which giveth many wounds, when one will kill. Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good; Only, give order for my funeral ;

And so farewell; and fair be all thy hopes! And prosperous be thy life, in peace, and war! [Dies. Plan. And peace, no war, befal thy parting soul!

In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage,
And like a hermit overpass'd thy days.—
Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast;
And what I do imagine, let that rest.—
Keepers, convey him hence; and I myself
Will see his burial better than his life.-

[Exeunt Keepers, bearing out Mortimer.
Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,
Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort :-
And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries,
Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house,-
I doubt not, but with honour to redress:
And therefore haste I to the parliament;
Either to be restored to my blood,
Or make my ill the advantage of my good.


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Win. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines,
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd,
Humphrey of Gloster? if thou canst 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.
Glo. Presumptuous priest! this place com-
mands 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 outrageous 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, 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 me, if thy thoughts were sifted,
The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
From envious malice of thy swelling heart.

Win. Gloster, I do defy 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 myself, but keep my wonted calling?
And for dissension, 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 I not the protector, saucy priest? Win. And am I not a prelate of the church? Glo. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, And useth it to patronage his theft. Win. Unreverent Gloster!

Glo. Thou art reverent

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 overborne. Som. 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?

Plan. 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. [Aside. K. Hen. Uncles of Gloster, 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. O, 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 commonwealth. CA noise 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 noise again; Stones! Stones!

Enter the Mayor of London, attended. May. O, my good lords,-and virtuous Henry,

Pity the city of London, pity us!
The bishop and the duke of Gloster's men,
Forbidden late to carry any weapon,
Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble-stones;
And, banding themselves in contráry 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, skirmishing, the retainers of GLOSTER

and WINCHESTER, with bloody pates.

K. Hen. Wecharge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaught'ring hands, and keep the


Pray, uncle Gloster, 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 household, leave this peevish broil,

And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.

1 Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a man Just and upright; and, for your royal birth, Inferior to none, but his majesty: And, ere that we will suffer such a prince, So kind a father of the commonweal, To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, We, and our wives, and children, all will fight, And have our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes.

2 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field, when we are dead. [Skirmish 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. Hen. O, how this discord doth afflict my

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 churchmen take delight in broils?

War. My lord protector, yield;-yield, Winchester ;

Except you mean, with obstinate repulse,
To slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm.
You see what mischief, and what murder 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

Or, I would see his heart out, ere 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. Hen. Fye, uncle Beaufort! 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 Gloster, 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 ourselves, and all our followers: So help me God, as I dissemble not!

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

Aside K. Hen. O loving uncle, kind duke of Gloster, 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 physic the tavern
affords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, &c.
War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sove-

Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
We do exhibit to your majesty.

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

An 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. Hen. And those occasions, uncle, were of

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. Hen. 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.
Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience,
And humble service, till the point of death.
K. Hen. Stoop then, and set your knee against
my foot;

And, in reguerdon of that duty done,
I girt thee with the valiant sword of York:
Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet;
And rise created princely duke of York.

Plan. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may

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

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 disanimates his enemies.

K. Hen. When Gloster says the word, king
Henry goes;

For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
Glo. Your ships already are in readiness.
[Exeunt all but Exeter.
Exe. Ay, we may march in England, or in

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 ere that hapless time.


SCENE II-France. Before Rožen. Enter LA PUCELLE, disguised, and Soldiers dressed like countrymen, with sacks upon their backs. Puc. These are the city gates, the gates of


Through which our policy must make a breach :
Take heed, be wary how you place your words;
Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men,
That come to gather money for their corn.
If we have entrance, (as, I hope, we shall,)
And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,
That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.
1 Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
And we be lords and rulers over Roüen;
Therefore we'll knock.


Guard. [Within.] Qui est là?
Puc. Paisans, pauvres gens de France:
Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn.
Guard. Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung.
[Opens the gates.

Puc. Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. [Pucelle, &c. enter the city. Enter CHARLES, Bastard of Orleans, ALENCON, and Forces.

Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem!
And once again we'll sleep secure in Roüen.

Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants;
Now she is there, how will she specify,
Where is the best and safest passage in?

Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonder

Which, once discern'd, shows, that her meaning
No way to that, for weakness, which she enter❜d.

Enter LA PUCELLE on a battlement: holding out
a torch burning.

Puc. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch,
That joineth Roüen unto her countrymen;
But burning fatal to the Talbotites.

Bast. See, noble Charles! the beacon of our

The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
A prophet to the fall of all our foes!

Alen. Defer no time, delays have dangerous
Enter, and cry-The Dauphin !-presently,
And then do execution on the watch.

[They enter.

Alarums. Enter TALBOT, and certain English. Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,


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