Chapter 98

Yorke. How I am brau'd, and must perforce endure it? Warw. This blot that they obiect against your House, Shall be whipt out in the next Parliament, Call'd for the Truce of Winchester and Gloucester: And if thou be not then created Yorke, I will not liue to be accounted Warwicke. Meane time, in signall of my loue to thee, Against prowd Somerset, and William Poole, Will I vpon thy partie weare this Rose. And here I prophecie: this brawle to day, Growne to this faction in the Temple Garden, Shall send betweene the Red-Rose and the White, A thousand Soules to Death and deadly Night

Yorke. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalfe would pluck a Flower

Ver. In your behalfe still will I weare the same

Lawyer. And so will I

Yorke. Thankes gentle. Come, let vs foure to Dinner: I dare say, This Quarrell will drinke Blood another day.

Exeunt.

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chayre, and Iaylors.

Mort. Kind Keepers of my weake decaying Age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himselfe. Euen like a man new haled from the Wrack, So fare my Limbes with long Imprisonment: And these gray Locks, the Pursuiuants of death, Nestor-like aged, in an Age of Care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. These Eyes like Lampes, whose wasting Oyle is spent, Waxe dimme, as drawing to their Exigent. Weake Shoulders, ouer-borne with burthening Griefe, And pyth-lesse Armes, like to a withered Vine, That droupes his sappe-lesse Branches to the ground. Yet are these Feet, whose strength-lesse stay is numme, (Vnable to support this Lumpe of Clay) Swift-winged with desire to get a Graue, As witting I no other comfort haue. But tell me, Keeper, will my Nephew come? Keeper. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come: We sent vnto the Temple, vnto his Chamber, And answer was return'd, that he will come

Mort. Enough: my Soule shall then be satisfied. Poore Gentleman, his wrong doth equall mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reigne, Before whose Glory I was great in Armes, This loathsome sequestration haue I had; And euen since then, hath Richard beene obscur'd, Depriu'd of Honor and Inheritance. But now, the Arbitrator of Despaires, Iust Death, kinde Vmpire of mens miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismisse me hence: I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, That so he might recouer what was lost. Enter Richard.

Keeper. My Lord, your louing Nephew now is come

Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? Rich. I, Noble Vnckle, thus ignobly vs'd, Your Nephew, late despised Richard, comes

Mort. Direct mine Armes, I may embrace his Neck, And in his Bosome spend my latter gaspe. Oh tell me when my Lippes doe touch his Cheekes, That I may kindly giue one fainting Kisse. And now declare sweet Stem from Yorkes great Stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd? Rich. First, leane thine aged Back against mine Arme, And in that ease, Ile tell thee my Disease. This day in argument vpon a Case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me: Among which tearmes, he vs'd his lauish tongue, And did vpbrayd me with my Fathers death; Which obloquie set barres before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him. Therefore good Vnckle, for my Fathers sake, In honor of a true Plantagenet, And for Alliance sake, declare the cause My Father, Earle of Cambridge, lost his Head

Mort. That cause (faire Nephew) that imprison'd me, And hath detayn'd me all my flowring Youth, Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to pyne, Was cursed Instrument of his decease

Rich. Discouer more at large what cause that was, For I am ignorant, and cannot guesse

Mort. 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, Edwards Sonne, The first begotten, and the lawfull Heire Of Edward King, the Third of that Descent. During whose Reigne, the Percies of the North, Finding his Vsurpation most vniust, Endeuour'd my aduancement to the Throne. The reason mou'd these Warlike Lords to this, Was, for that (young Richard thus remou'd, Leauing no Heire begotten of his Body) I was the next by Birth and Parentage: For by my Mother, I deriued am From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third Sonne To King Edward the Third; whereas hee, From Iohn of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree, Being but fourth of that Heroick Lyne. But marke: as in this haughtie great attempt, They laboured, to plant the rightfull Heire, I lost my Libertie, and they their Liues. Long after this, when Henry the Fift (Succeeding his Father Bullingbrooke) did reigne; Thy Father, Earle of Cambridge, then deriu'd From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke, Marrying my Sister, that thy Mother was; Againe, in pitty of my hard distresse, Leuied an Army, weening to redeeme, And haue install'd me in the Diademe: But as the rest, so fell that Noble Earle, And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, In whom the Title rested, were supprest

Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the last

Mort. True; and thou seest, that I no Issue haue, And that my fainting words doe warrant death: Thou art my Heire; the rest, I wish thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care

Rich. Thy graue admonishments preuayle with me: But yet me thinkes, my Fathers execution Was nothing lesse then bloody Tyranny

Mort. With silence, Nephew, be thou pollitick, Strong fixed is the House of Lancaster, And like a Mountaine, not to be remou'd. But now thy Vnckle is remouing hence, As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'd With long continuance in a setled place

Rich. O Vnckle, would some part of my young yeeres Might but redeeme the passage of your Age

Mort. Thou do'st then wrong me, as y slaughterer doth, Which giueth many Wounds, when one will kill. Mourne not, except thou sorrow for my good, Onely giue order for my Funerall. And so farewell, and faire be all thy hopes, And prosperous be thy Life in Peace and Warre.

Dyes.

Rich. And Peace, no Warre, befall thy parting Soule. In Prison hast thou spent a Pilgrimage, And like a Hermite ouer-past thy dayes. Well, I will locke his Councell in my Brest, And what I doe imagine, let that rest. Keepers conuey him hence, and I my selfe Will see his Buryall better then his Life. Enter.

Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer, Choakt with Ambition of the meaner sort. And for those Wrongs, those bitter Iniuries, Which Somerset hath offer'd to my House, I doubt not, but with Honor to redresse. And therefore haste I to the Parliament, Eyther to be restored to my Blood, Or make my will th' aduantage of my good. Enter.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick. Somerset, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put vp a Bill: Winchester snatches it, teares it.

Winch. Com'st thou with deepe premeditated Lines? With written Pamphlets, studiously deuis'd? Humfrey of Gloster, if thou canst accuse, Or ought intend'st to lay vnto my charge, Doe it without inuention, suddenly, As I with sudden, and extemporall speech, Purpose to answer what thou canst obiect

Glo. Presumptuous Priest, this place co[m]mands my patie[n]ce, Or thou should'st finde thou hast dis-honor'd me. Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outragious Crymes, That therefore I haue forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the Methode of my Penne. No Prelate, such is thy audacious wickednesse, Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious prancks, As very Infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a most pernitious Vsurer, Froward by nature, Enemie to Peace, Lasciuious, wanton, more then well beseemes A man of thy Profession, and Degree. And for thy Trecherie, what's more manifest? In that thou layd'st a Trap to take my Life, As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower. Beside, I feare me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The King, thy Soueraigne, is not quite exempt From enuious mallice of thy swelling heart

Winch. Gloster, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchsafe To giue me hearing what I shall reply. If I were couetous, ambitious, or peruerse, As he will haue me: how am I so poore? Or how haps it, I seeke not to aduance Or rayse my selfe? but keepe my wonted Calling. And for Dissention, who preferreth Peace More then I doe? except I be prouok'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 hee, No one, but hee, should be about the King; And that engenders Thunder in his breast, And makes him rore these Accusations forth. But he shall know I am as good

Glost. As good? Thou Bastard of my Grandfather

Winch. I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in anothers Throne? Glost. Am I not Protector, sawcie Priest? Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church? Glost. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keepes, And vseth it, to patronage his Theft

Winch. Vnreuerent Glocester

Glost. Thou art reuerent, Touching thy Spirituall Function, not thy Life

Winch. Rome shall remedie this

Warw. Roame thither then. My Lord, it were your dutie to forbeare

Som. I, see the Bishop be not ouer-borne: Me thinkes my Lord should be Religious, And know the Office that belongs to such

Warw. Me thinkes his Lordship should be humbler, It fitteth not a Prelate so to plead

Som. Yes, when his holy State is toucht so neere

Warw. State holy, or vnhallow'd, what of that? Is not his Grace Protector to the King? Rich. Plantagenet I see must hold his tongue, Least it be said, Speake Sirrha when you should: Must your bold Verdict enter talke with Lords? Else would I haue a fling at Winchester

King. Vnckles of Gloster, and of Winchester, The speciall Watch-men of our English Weale, I would preuayle, if Prayers might preuayle, To ioyne your hearts in loue and amitie. Oh, what a Scandall is it to our Crowne, That two such Noble Peeres as ye should iarre? Beleeue me, Lords, my tender yeeres can tell, Ciuill dissention is a viperous Worme, That gnawes the Bowels of the Common-wealth.

A noyse within, Downe with the Tawny-Coats.

King. What tumult's this? Warw. An Vprore, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishops men.

A noyse againe, Stones, Stones.

Enter Maior.

Maior. Oh my good Lords, and vertuous Henry, Pitty the Citie of London, pitty vs: The Bishop, and the Duke of Glosters men, Forbidden late to carry any Weapon, Haue fill'd their Pockets full of peeble stones; And banding themselues in contrary parts, Doe pelt so fast at one anothers Pate, That many haue their giddy braynes knockt out: Our Windowes are broke downe in euery Street, And we, for feare, compell'd to shut our Shops. Enter in skirmish with bloody Pates.

King. We charge you, on allegeance to our selfe, To hold your slaughtring hands, and keepe the Peace: Pray' Vnckle Gloster mittigate this strife

1.Seruing. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, wee'le fall to it with our Teeth

2.Seruing. Doe what ye dare, we are as resolute.

Skirmish againe.

Glost. You of my household, leaue this peeuish broyle, And set this vnaccustom'd fight aside

3.Seru. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a man Iust, and vpright; and for your Royall Birth, Inferior to none, but to his Maiestie: And ere that we will suffer such a Prince, So kinde a Father of the Common-weale, To be disgraced by an Inke-horne Mate, Wee and our Wiues and Children all will fight, And haue our bodyes slaughtred by thy foes

1.Seru. I, and the very parings of our Nayles Shall pitch a Field when we are dead.

Begin againe.

Glost. Stay, stay, I say: And if you loue me, as you say you doe, Let me perswade you to forbeare a while

King. Oh, how this discord doth afflict my Soule. Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold My sighes and teares, and will not once relent? Who should be pittifull, if you be not? Or who should study to preferre a Peace, If holy Church-men take delight in broyles? Warw. Yeeld my Lord Protector, yeeld Winchester, Except you meane with obstinate repulse To slay your Soueraigne, and destroy the Realme. You see what Mischiefe, and what Murther too, Hath beene enacted through your enmitie: Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood

Winch. He shall submit, or I will neuer yeeld

Glost. Compassion on the King commands me stoupe, Or I would see his heart out, ere the Priest Should euer get that priuiledge of me

Warw. Behold my Lord of Winchester, the Duke Hath banisht moodie discontented fury, As by his smoothed Browes it doth appeare: Why looke you still so sterne, and tragicall? Glost. Here Winchester, I offer thee my Hand

King. Fie Vnckle Beauford, I haue heard you preach, That Mallice was a great and grieuous sinne: And will not you maintaine the thing you teach? But proue a chiefe offendor in the same

Warw. Sweet King: the Bishop hath a kindly gyrd: For shame my Lord of Winchester relent; What, shall a Child instruct you what to doe? Winch. Well, Duke of Gloster, I will yeeld to thee Loue for thy Loue, and Hand for Hand I giue

Glost. I, but I feare me with a hollow Heart. See here my Friends and louing Countreymen, This token serueth for a Flagge of Truce, Betwixt our selues, and all our followers: So helpe me God, as I dissemble not

Winch. So helpe me God, as I intend it not

King. Oh louing Vnckle, kinde Duke of Gloster, How ioyfull am I made by this Contract. Away my Masters, trouble vs no more, But ioyne in friendship, as your Lords haue done

1.Seru. Content, Ile to the Surgeons

2.Seru. And so will I

3.Seru. And I will see what Physick the Tauerne affords.

Exeunt.

Warw. Accept this Scrowle, most gracious Soueraigne, Which in the Right of Richard Plantagenet, We doe exhibite to your Maiestie

Glo. Well vrg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for sweet Prince, And if your Grace marke euery circumstance, You haue great reason to doe Richard right, Especially for those occasions At Eltam Place I told your Maiestie

King. And those occasions, Vnckle, were of force: Therefore my louing Lords, our pleasure is, That Richard be restored to his Blood

Warw. Let Richard be restored to his Blood, So shall his Fathers wrongs be recompenc't

Winch. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester

King. If Richard will be true, not that all alone, But all the whole Inheritance I giue, That doth belong vnto the House of Yorke, From whence you spring, by Lineall Descent

Rich. Thy humble seruant vowes obedience, And humble seruice, till the point of death

King. Stoope then, and set your Knee against my Foot, And in reguerdon of that dutie done, I gyrt thee with the valiant Sword of Yorke: Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet, And rise created Princely Duke of Yorke

Rich. And so thriue Richard, as thy foes may fall, And as my dutie springs, so perish they, That grudge one thought against your Maiesty

All. Welcome high Prince, the mighty Duke of Yorke

Som. Perish base Prince, ignoble Duke of Yorke

Glost. Now will it best auaile your Maiestie, To crosse the Seas, and to be Crown'd in France: The presence of a King engenders loue Amongst his Subiects, and his loyall Friends, As it dis-animates his Enemies

King. When Gloster sayes the word, King Henry goes, For friendly counsaile cuts off many Foes

Glost. Your Ships alreadie are in readinesse.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Exeter.

Exet. I, we may march in England, or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue: This late dissention growne betwixt the Peeres, Burnes vnder fained ashes of forg'd loue, And will at last breake out into a flame, As festred members rot but by degree, Till bones and flesh and sinewes fall away, So will this base and enuious discord breed. And now I feare that fatall Prophecie, Which in the time of Henry, nam'd the Fift, Was in the mouth of euery sucking Babe, That Henry borne at Monmouth should winne all, And Henry borne at Windsor, loose all: Which is so plaine, that Exeter doth wish, His dayes may finish, ere that haplesse time. Enter.

Scoena Secunda.

Enter Pucell disguis'd, with foure Souldiors with Sacks vpon their backs.

Pucell. These are the Citie Gates, the Gates of Roan, Through which our Pollicy must make a breach. Take heed, be wary how you place your words, Talke like the vulgar sort of Market men, That come to gather Money for their Corne. If we haue entrance, as I hope we shall, And that we finde the slouthfull Watch but weake, Ile by a signe giue notice to our friends, That Charles the Dolphin may encounter them

Souldier. Our Sacks shall be a meane to sack the City, And we be Lords and Rulers ouer Roan, Therefore wee'le knock.

Knock.

Watch. Che la

Pucell. Peasauns la pouure gens de Fraunce, Poore Market folkes that come to sell their Corne

Watch. Enter, goe in, the Market Bell is rung

Pucell. Now Roan, Ile shake thy Bulwarkes to the ground.

Exeunt.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson.

Charles. Saint Dennis blesse this happy Stratageme, And once againe wee'le sleepe secure in Roan

Bastard. Here entred Pucell, and her Practisants: Now she is there, how will she specifie? Here is the best and safest passage in

Reig. By thrusting out a Torch from yonder Tower, Which once discern'd, shewes that her meaning is, No way to that (for weaknesse) which she entred. Enter Pucell on the top, thrusting out a Torch burning.

Pucell. Behold, this is the happy Wedding Torch, That ioyneth Roan vnto her Countreymen, But burning fatall to the Talbonites

Bastard. See Noble Charles the Beacon of our friend, The burning Torch in yonder Turret stands

Charles. Now shine it like a Commet of Reuenge, A Prophet to the fall of all our Foes

Reig. Deferre no time, delayes haue dangerous ends, Enter and cry, the Dolphin, presently, And then doe execution on the Watch.

Alarum.

An Alarum. Talbot in an Excursion.

Talb. France, thou shalt rue this Treason with thy teares, If Talbot but suruiue thy Trecherie. Pucell that Witch, that damned Sorceresse, Hath wrought this Hellish Mischiefe vnawares, That hardly we escap't the Pride of France. Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Bedford brought in sicke in a Chayre.

Enter Talbot and Burgonie without: within, Pucell, Charles, Bastard, and Reigneir on the Walls.

Pucell. God morrow Gallants, want ye Corn for Bread? I thinke the Duke of Burgonie will fast, Before hee'le buy againe at such a rate. 'Twas full of Darnell: doe you like the taste? Burg. Scoffe on vile Fiend, and shamelesse Curtizan, I trust ere long to choake thee with thine owne, And make thee curse the Haruest of that Corne

Charles. Your Grace may starue (perhaps) before that time

Bedf. Oh let no words, but deedes, reuenge this Treason

Pucell. What will you doe, good gray-beard? Breake a Launce, and runne a-Tilt at Death, Within a Chayre

Talb. Foule Fiend of France, and Hag of all despight, Incompass'd with thy lustfull Paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant Age, And twit with Cowardise a man halfe dead? Damsell, Ile haue a bowt with you againe, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame

Pucell. Are ye so hot, Sir: yet Pucell hold thy peace, If Talbot doe but Thunder, Raine will follow.

They whisper together in counsell.

God speed the Parliament: who shall be the Speaker? Talb. Dare yee come forth, and meet vs in the field? Pucell. Belike your Lordship takes vs then for fooles, To try if that our owne be ours, or no

Talb. I speake not to that rayling Hecate, But vnto thee Alanson, and the rest. Will ye, like Souldiors, come and fight it out? Alans. Seignior no

Talb. Seignior hang: base Muleters of France, Like Pesant foot-Boyes doe they keepe the Walls, And dare not take vp Armes, like Gentlemen

Pucell. Away Captaines, let's get vs from the Walls, For Talbot meanes no goodnesse by his Lookes. God b'uy my Lord, we came but to tell you That wee are here.

Exeunt. from the Walls.

Talb. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbots greatest fame. Vow Burgonie, by honor of thy House, Prickt on by publike Wrongs sustain'd in France, Either to get the Towne againe, or dye. And I, as sure as English Henry liues, And as his Father here was Conqueror; As sure as in this late betrayed Towne, Great Cordelions Heart was buryed; So sure I sweare, to get the Towne, or dye

Burg. My Vowes are equall partners with thy Vowes

Talb. But ere we goe, regard this dying Prince, The valiant Duke of Bedford: Come my Lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sicknesse, and for crasie age

Bedf. Lord Talbot, doe not so dishonour me: Here will I sit, before the Walls of Roan, And will be partner of your weale or woe

Burg. Couragious Bedford, let vs now perswade you

Bedf. Not to be gone from hence: for once I read, That stout Pendragon, in his Litter sick, Came to the field, and vanquished his foes. Me thinkes I should reuiue the Souldiors hearts, Because I euer found them as my selfe

Talb. Vndaunted spirit in a dying breast, Then be it so: Heauens keepe old Bedford safe. And now no more adoe, braue Burgonie, But gather we our Forces out of hand, And set vpon our boasting Enemie. Enter.

An Alarum: Excursions. Enter Sir Iohn Falstaffe, and a Captaine.

Capt. Whither away Sir Iohn Falstaffe, in such haste? Falst. Whither away? to saue my selfe by flight, We are like to haue the ouerthrow againe

Capt. What? will you flye, and leaue Lord Talbot? Falst. I, all the Talbots in the World, to saue my life. Enter.

Capt. Cowardly Knight, ill fortune follow thee. Enter.

Retreat. Excursions. Pucell, Alanson, and Charles flye.

Bedf. Now quiet Soule, depart when Heauen please, For I haue seene our Enemies ouerthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish man? They that of late were daring with their scoffes, Are glad and faine by flight to saue themselues.

Bedford dyes, and is carryed in by two in his Chaire.

An Alarum. Enter Talbot, Burgonie, and the rest.

Talb. Lost, and recouered in a day againe, This is a double Honor, Burgonie: Yet Heauens haue glory for this Victorie

Burg. Warlike and Martiall Talbot, Burgonie Inshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy noble Deeds, as Valors Monuments

Talb. Thanks gentle Duke: but where is Pucel now? I thinke her old Familiar is asleepe. Now where's the Bastards braues, and Charles his glikes? What all amort? Roan hangs her head for griefe, That such a valiant Company are fled. Now will we take some order in the Towne, Placing therein some expert Officers, And then depart to Paris, to the King, For there young Henry with his Nobles lye

Burg. What wills Lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgonie

Talb. But yet before we goe, let's not forget The Noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, But see his Exequies fulfill'd in Roan. A brauer Souldier neuer couched Launce, A gentler Heart did neuer sway in Court. But Kings and mightiest Potentates must die, For that's the end of humane miserie.

Exeunt.

Scaena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Bastard, Alanson, Pucell.

Pucell. Dismay not (Princes) at this accident, Nor grieue that Roan is so recouered: Care is no cure, but rather corrosiue, For things that are not to be remedy'd. Let frantike Talbot triumph for a while, And like a Peacock sweepe along his tayle, Wee'le pull his Plumes, and take away his Trayne, If Dolphin and the rest will be but rul'd

Charles. We haue been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy Cunning had no diffidence, One sudden Foyle shall neuer breed distrust

Bastard. Search out thy wit for secret pollicies, And we will make thee famous through the World

Alans. Wee'le set thy Statue in some holy place, And haue thee reuerenc't like a blessed Saint. Employ thee then, sweet Virgin, for our good

Pucell. Then thus it must be, this doth Ioane deuise: By faire perswasions, mixt with sugred words, We will entice the Duke of Burgonie To leaue the Talbot, and to follow vs

Charles. I marry Sweeting, if we could doe that, France were no place for Henryes Warriors, Nor should that Nation boast it so with vs, But be extirped from our Prouinces

Alans. For euer should they be expuls'd from France, And not haue Title of an Earledome here