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 und
Winchester, with bloody pates.

K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaught'ring 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,

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 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,"

5 Unseemly, indecent.

6 This was a term of reproach toward men of learning.

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.

[Skirmish again. Stay, stay, I say!

Glo.
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 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 churchmen take delight in broils ?

War. My lord protector, yield;-yield Winches

ter;

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 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 physick the tavern affords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, &c. War. Accept this scroll, 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,

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.

7 Feels an emotion of kind remorse.

K. Hen. 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. 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;

8

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 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 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 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 ere that hapless time.

SCENE II.

France. Before Roüen.

[Exit.

Enter LA PUCELLE disguised, and Soldiers dressed like Countrymen, with Sacks upon their Backs.

Puc. These are the city gates, the gates of Roüen, 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.