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, 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 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 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,

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put up a Bill;] i. e. articles of accusation, for in this

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, vouch

safe

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 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 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."

* Thou bastard of my grandfather!] The bishop of Winchester was an illegitimate son of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, by Katharine Swynford, whom the Duke afterwards married.

• Roam thither then.] Roam to Rome. To roam is supposed to

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 hum

bler;

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.

[A 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,

be derived from the cant of vagabonds, who often pretended a pilgrimage to Rome. JOHNSON.

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. 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.

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:

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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.

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cent.

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2 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails

unaccustom'd fight - Unaccustom'd is unseemly, inde

an inkhorn mate,] A bookman. It was a term of reproach at the time towards men of learning, or men affecting to be learned.

Shall pitch a field, when we are dead.

Glo.

[Skirmish again. 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

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 Win

chester;

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

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War. Sweet king!-the bishop hath a kindly

gird.

- hath a kindly gird.] i. e. feels an emotion of kind re