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For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
Som. No, Plantagenet, "Tis not for fear; but anger,-that thy cheeks Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses; And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?
Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; [hood. Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falseSom. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses,
That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my
I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. Suff. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.
Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him and thee."
Suff. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throa.. ! Som. Away, away, good William De-laPoole! [him. We grace the yeoman, by conversing with War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset ;
His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, Third son to the third Edward king of England;
Spring crestless yeomen* from so deep a root? Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege,t Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. Som. By him that made me, I'll maintain my words
On any plot of ground in Christendom: Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge,
For treason executed in our late king's days?
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
And know us, by these colours, for thy foes;
Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament,
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
ENE 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.-
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care,
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent :+
And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine That droops his sapless branches to the ground:[numb, 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
Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
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.
Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET.
1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now
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:
Why didst thou say-of late thou wert despis'd? Plan. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm;
And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.+
And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth,
Plan. Discover more at large what cause that was;
For I am ignorant, and cannot guess.
Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne:
Leaving no heir begotten of his body,)
From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son
Marrying my sister, that thy mother was,
Mor. True; and thou seest, that I no issue
But yet, methinks, my father's execution
With long continuance in a settled place.
Might but redeem the passage of your age! Mor. Thou dost then wrong me; as the 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, befall thy parting In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, [soul! 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.
SCENE 1.-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
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd,
Glo. Presumptuous priest! this place com-
As very infants prattle of thy pride.
The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
Glo. As good?
Thou bastard of my grandfather!
Win. Ay, lordly Sir; For what are you, I But one imperious in another's throne? [pray, 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.
Sum. 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 humIt fitteth not a prelate so to plead. [bler; Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so
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.
K. Hen. Uncies of Gloster, and of Winchester,
The special watchmen of our English weal;
O, what a scandal is it to our crown,
War. An uproar, I dare warrant,
Enter the MAYOR of London, attended. May. O, my good lords, and virtuous HenPity the city of London, pity us! [ry, 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 contrary parts, Do pelt so fast at one another's pate,
[out: That many have their giddy brains knock'd 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. 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 [teeth. Forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our 2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. [Skirmish again.
Glo. You of my household, leave this peevish And set this unaccustom'd fight aside. [broil, 1 Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a
Just and upright; and, for your royal birth,
Glo. Stay, stay, I say!
And, if you love me, as you say you do,
Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold
War. My lord protector, yield;-yield Winchester;
Except you mean, with obstinate repulse,
Win. He shall submit, or I will never yield.
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;
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
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 force:
Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is,
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 But all the whole inheritance I give, [alone, 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 a gainst my foot;
And, in reguerdon of that duty done,
And as my duty springs so perish they
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 Not seeing what is likely to ensue: [France, 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 Rouen, Enter LA PUCELLE disguised, and SOLDIERS dressed like Countrymen, with Sacks their upon 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,
1 Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
And we be lords and rulers over Roüen;
Guard. [Within.] Qui est là?
Puc. Paisans, pauvres gens de France: Poor market-folks, that come to sell their
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, ALENÇON, and Forces.
Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem!
And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen. Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants ;*
Now she is there, how will she specify
Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;
Which, once discern'd, shows, that her meaning is,[enter'd. No way to that,t for weakness, which she
Enter LA PUCELLE on a Battlement: holding out a Torch burning.
Puc. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch,
That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen :
Bast. See, noble Charles! the beacon of our friend,
The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
Alarums. Enter TALBOT, and certain English. Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.-
Alarum: Excursions. Enter from the Town,
I think, the duke of Burgundy will fast,
Before he'll buy again at such a rate: 'Twas full of darnel; Do you like the taste? Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless courtezan!
I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before that time.
Bed. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!
Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance,
And run a tilt at death within a chair?
Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite,
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours!
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.—
Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field?
Puc. Belike, your lordship takes us then for fools,
To try if that our own be ours, or no.
Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest; Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? Alen. Signior, no.
Tul. Signior, hang!-base muleteers of Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. Puc. Captains, away: let's get us from the walls;
For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks.
[Exeunt LA PUCELLE, &c. from the Walls. Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame! Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, (Prick'd on by public wrongs, sustain'd France,)
Either to get the town again, or die:
Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, The valiant duke of Bedford:-Come, my lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age.
Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me:
Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for once
That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick,
Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!Then be it so:-Heavens keep old Bedford safe!
For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
Enshrines thee in his heart; and there erects
Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is
I think, her old familiar is asleep:
What, all a-mort?+ Rouen hangs her head
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
A gentler heart did never sway in court:
SCENE III.-The same.-The Plains near the
Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD, ALENÇON, LA PUCELLE, and Forces.
Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered: For things that are not to be remedied. Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, We'll pull his plumes, and take away his train, And like a peacock sweep along his tail; If Dauphin, and the rest, will be but rul'd. * Scoff's. + Quite dispirited. ↑ Make some necessary dispositions. Funeral rites.