From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son But mark: as, in this haughty great attempt Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is the last. Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me. But yet, methinks, my father's execution Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic: As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd Plan. O, uncle ! would some part of my young years Might but redeem the passage of your age. Mor. Thou dost, then, wrong me; as the slaughterer 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; [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 will th' advancer1 of my good. [Exit. ACT III. SCENE I.-The Same. The Parliament-House. Flourish. Enter King HENRY, EXETER, GLOSTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the Bishop of WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others. GLOSTER offers to put up a Bill; WINCHESTER snatches it, and tears it. Win. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines, As I with sudden and extemporal speech Glo. Presumptuous priest! this place commands my patience, Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me. 1 advantage in f. e. Froward by nature, enemy to peace; And for thy treachery, what's more manifest, 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 not I 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. Roam thither then. War. Som. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. Methinks, my lord should be religious, War. Methinks, his lordship should be humbler: It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. 1 or perverse: in f. e. 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; [Aside. 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. 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 dissension is a viperous worm, That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.[A noise within: Down with the tawney coats! What tumult's this? War. An uproar, I dare warrant, [A noise again: Stones! Stones! The bishop's and the duke of Gloster's men, Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble-stones; That many have their giddy brains knocked out. Enter, skirmishing, the Retainers of GLOSTER, and K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaughtering hands, and keep the peace. 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, 1 Enter the Mayor of London attended: in f. e. 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 to his majesty ; And ere that we will suffer such a prince, 3 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Let me persuade you to forbear awhile. K. Hen. O, how this discord doth afflict my soul !— Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold My sighs and tears, and will not once relent? Or who should study to preserve2 a peace, If holy churchmen take delight in broils? War. Yield, lord protector; and 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 stoop; 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 Glo. Here, Winchester; I offer thee my hand. [Winchester refuses it. 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, War. Sweet king!-the bishop hath a kindly gird. 1A term usually applied to pedantry. 2 prefer in f. e. in f. e. 3 Not |