# The Complete Works of William Shakespeare ## Part 68 Book page: https://www.cyberlibrary.org/en/books/the-complete-works-of-william-shakespeare-100/index.md COUNTESS. The plot is laid. If all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus’ death. Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, And his achievements of no less account. Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, To give their censure of these rare reports. Enter Messenger and Talbot. MESSENGER. Madam, according as your ladyship desired, By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come. COUNTESS. And he is welcome. What, is this the man? MESSENGER. Madam, it is. COUNTESS. Is this the scourge of France? Is this the Talbot, so much fear’d abroad That with his name the mothers still their babes? I see report is fabulous and false. I thought I should have seen some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect, And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf! It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp Should strike such terror to his enemies. TALBOT. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you; But since your ladyship is not at leisure, I’ll sort some other time to visit you. COUNTESS. What means he now? Go ask him whither he goes. MESSENGER. Stay, my Lord Talbot, for my lady craves To know the cause of your abrupt departure. TALBOT. Marry, for that she’s in a wrong belief, I go to certify her Talbot’s here. Enter Porter with keys. COUNTESS. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. TALBOT. Prisoner! To whom? COUNTESS. To me, blood-thirsty lord; And for that cause I train’d thee to my house. Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, For in my gallery thy picture hangs. But now the substance shall endure the like, And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, That hast by tyranny these many years Wasted our country, slain our citizens, And sent our sons and husbands captivate. TALBOT. Ha, ha, ha! COUNTESS. Laughest thou, wretch? Thy mirth shall turn to moan. TALBOT. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond To think that you have aught but Talbot’s shadow Whereon to practice your severity. COUNTESS. Why, art not thou the man? TALBOT. I am indeed. COUNTESS. Then have I substance too. TALBOT. No, no, I am but shadow of myself. You are deceived, my substance is not here; For what you see is but the smallest part And least proportion of humanity. I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, It is of such a spacious lofty pitch Your roof were not sufficient to contain ’t. COUNTESS. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce; He will be here, and yet he is not here. How can these contrarieties agree? TALBOT. That will I show you presently. Winds his horn. Drums strike up; a peal of ordnance. Enter Soldiers. How say you, madam? Are you now persuaded That Talbot is but shadow of himself? These are his substance, sinews, arms and strength, With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, Razeth your cities and subverts your towns, And in a moment makes them desolate. COUNTESS. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse. I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, And more than may be gather’d by thy shape. Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath, For I am sorry that with reverence I did not entertain thee as thou art. TALBOT. Be not dismay’d, fair lady, nor misconster The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake The outward composition of his body. What you have done hath not offended me; Nor other satisfaction do I crave But only, with your patience, that we may Taste of your wine and see what cates you have, For soldiers’ stomachs always serve them well. COUNTESS. With all my heart, and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. [_Exeunt._] SCENE IV. London. The Temple Garden. Enter the Earls of Somerset, Suffolk, and Warwick; Richard Plantagenet, Vernon and another Lawyer. PLANTAGENET. Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence? Dare no man answer in a case of truth? SUFFOLK. Within the Temple Hall we were too loud; The garden here is more convenient. PLANTAGENET. Then say at once if I maintain’d the truth; Or else was wrangling Somerset in th’ error? SUFFOLK. Faith, I have been a truant in the law And never yet could frame my will to it; And therefore frame the law unto my will. SOMERSET. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us. WARWICK. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch; Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth; Between two blades, which bears the better temper; Between two horses, which doth bear him best; Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye; I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgement; But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. PLANTAGENET. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance! The truth appears so naked on my side That any purblind eye may find it out. SOMERSET. And on my side it is so well apparell’d, So clear, so shining and so evident, That it will glimmer through a blind man’s eye. PLANTAGENET. Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak, In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts: Let him that is a true-born gentleman And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. SOMERSET. Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. WARWICK. I love no colours, and without all colour Of base insinuating flattery I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. SUFFOLK. I pluck this red rose with young Somerset, And say withal I think he held the right. VERNON. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more Till you conclude that he upon whose side The fewest roses are cropp’d from the tree Shall yield the other in the right opinion. SOMERSET. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected: If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence. PLANTAGENET. And I. VERNON. Then for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white rose side. SOMERSET. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, And fall on my side so against your will. VERNON. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt And keep me on the side where still I am. SOMERSET. Well, well, come on, who else? LAWYER. Unless my study and my books be false, [_To Somerset._] The argument you held was wrong in law; In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too. PLANTAGENET. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? SOMERSET. Here in my scabbard, meditating that Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red. PLANTAGENET. Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses; For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side. SOMERSET. 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. PLANTAGENET. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? SOMERSET. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? PLANTAGENET. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. SOMERSET. 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. PLANTAGENET. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. SUFFOLK. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. PLANTAGENET. Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and thee. SUFFOLK. I’ll turn my part thereof into thy throat. SOMERSET. Away, away, good William de la Pole! We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. WARWICK. 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? PLANTAGENET. He bears him on the place’s privilege, Or durst not for his craven heart, say thus. SOMERSET. 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? And, by his treason, stand’st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry? His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood; And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman. PLANTAGENET. My father was attached, not attainted, Condemn’d to die for treason, but no traitor; And that I’ll prove on better men than Somerset, Were growing time once ripen’d to my will. For your partaker Pole and you yourself, I’ll note you in my book of memory, To scourge you for this apprehension. Look to it well, and say you are well warn’d. SOMERSET. Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still; And know us by these colours for thy foes, For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear. PLANTAGENET. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I for ever and my faction wear, Until it wither with me to my grave, Or flourish to the height of my degree. SUFFOLK. Go forward, and be chok’d with thy ambition! And so farewell until I meet thee next. [_Exit._] SOMERSET. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard. [_Exit._] PLANTAGENET. How I am braved and must perforce endure it! WARWICK. This blot that they object against your house Shall be wiped out in the next parliament Call’d for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester; And if thou be not then created York, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset and William Pole, Will I upon thy party wear this rose. And here I prophesy: this brawl today, Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden, Shall send between the Red Rose and the White A thousand souls to death and deadly night. PLANTAGENET. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. VERNON. In your behalf still will I wear the same. LAWYER. And so will I. PLANTAGENET. Thanks, gentlemen. Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say This quarrel will drink blood another day. [_Exeunt._] SCENE V. The Tower of London. Enter Mortimer, brought in a chair, and Jailers. MORTIMER. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. Even like a man new haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment; And these gray locks, the pursuivants of death, Nestor-like aged in an age of care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent; Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief, And pithless arms, like to a wither’d vine That droops his sapless branches to the ground. Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, 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? FIRST JAILER. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber, And answer was return’d that he will come. MORTIMER. Enough. My soul shall then be satisfied. Poor gentleman, his wrong doth equal mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, Before whose glory I was great in arms, This loathsome sequestration have I had; And even since then hath Richard been obscured, Deprived of honour and inheritance. But now the arbitrator of despairs, Just Death, kind umpire of men’s miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence. I would his troubles likewise were expired, That so he might recover what was lost. Enter Richard Plantagenet. FIRST JAILER. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. MORTIMER. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? PLANTAGENET. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used, Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes. MORTIMER. Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck And in his bosom spend my latter gasp. O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks, That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. And now declare, sweet stem from York’s great stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despised? PLANTAGENET. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm, And, in that ease, I’ll tell thee my disease. This day, in argument upon a case, Some words there grew ’twixt Somerset and me; Among which terms he used his lavish tongue And did upbraid me with my father’s death; Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him. Therefore, good uncle, for my father’s sake, In honour of a true Plantagenet, And for alliance’ sake, declare the cause My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head. MORTIMER. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison’d me And hath detain’d me all my flowering youth Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease. PLANTAGENET. Discover more at large what cause that was, For I am ignorant and cannot guess. MORTIMER. I will, if that my fading breath permit And death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward’s son, The first-begotten and the lawful heir Of Edward king, the third of that descent; During whose reign the Percies of the north, Finding his usurpation most unjust, Endeavour’d my advancement to the throne. The reason moved these warlike lords to this Was, for that—young King Richard thus removed, Leaving no heir begotten of his body— I was the next by birth and parentage; For by my mother I derived am From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third son To King Edward the Third; whereas he From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, Being but fourth of that heroic line. But mark: as in this haughty great attempt They labored to plant the rightful heir, I lost my liberty and they their lives. Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign, Thy father, Earl of Cambridge then, derived From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York, Marrying my sister that thy mother was, Again, in pity of my hard distress. Levied an army, weening to redeem And have install’d me in the diadem. But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, In whom the title rested, were suppress’d. PLANTAGENET. Of which, my lord, your honour is the last. MORTIMER. True; and thou seest that I no issue have, And that my fainting words do warrant death. Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather. But yet be wary in thy studious care. PLANTAGENET. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me. But yet methinks, my father’s execution Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. MORTIMER. With silence, nephew, be thou politic; Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, And like a mountain, not to be removed. But now thy uncle is removing hence, As princes do their courts when they are cloy’d With long continuance in a settled place. PLANTAGENET. O uncle, would some part of my young years Might but redeem the passage of your age! MORTIMER. Thou dost then wrong me, as that 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._] PLANTAGENET. And peace, no war, befall 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; And what I do imagine, let that rest. Keepers, convey him hence; and I myself Will see his burial better than his life. [_Exeunt Jailers, bearing out the body of Mortimer._] Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Choked 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 mine ill th’ advantage of my good. [_Exit._] ACT III SCENE I. London. The Parliament House. Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester, Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, and Somerset, Suffolk, and others. Gloucester offers to put up a bill. Winchester snatches it, tears it. WINCHESTER. Com’st thou with deep premeditated lines, With written pamphlets studiously devised, Humphrey of Gloucester? 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. GLOUCESTER. Presumptuous priest, this place commands my patience, Or thou shouldst 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 forged, 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, As well at London Bridge as at the Tower? Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts are sifted, The King, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt From envious malice of thy swelling heart. WINCHESTER. Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe 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 dissension, who preferreth peace More than I do, except I be provoked? No, my good lords, it is not that offends; It is not that that hath incensed 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— GLOUCESTER. As good! Thou bastard of my grandfather! WINCHESTER. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in another’s throne? GLOUCESTER. Am I not Protector, saucy priest? WINCHESTER. And am not I a prelate of the church? GLOUCESTER. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, And useth it to patronage his theft. WINCHESTER. Unreverent Gloucester! GLOUCESTER. Thou art reverend Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. WINCHESTER. Rome shall remedy this. GLOUCESTER. Roam thither, then. WARWICK. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. SOMERSET. Ay, so the bishop be not overborne. Methinks my lord should be religious, And know the office that belongs to such. WARWICK. Methinks his lordship should be humbler; It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. SOMERSET. Yes, when his holy state is touch’d so near. WARWICK. State holy or unhallow’d, what of that? Is not his Grace Protector to the King? PLANTAGENET. [_Aside_.] 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. KING HENRY. Uncles of Gloucester 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 tawny-coats!”._] What tumult’s this? WARWICK. An uproar, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishop’s men. [_A noise again, “Stones! stones!”_] Enter Mayor. MAYOR. O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry, Pity the city of London, pity us! The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester’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 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 Servingmen in skirmish with bloody pates. KING HENRY. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaughtering hands and keep the peace. Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we’ll fall to it with our teeth. SECOND SERVINGMAN. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. [_Skirmish again._] GLOUCESTER. You of my household, leave this peevish broil, And set this unaccustom’d fight aside. THIRD SERVINGMAN. 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, 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. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field when we are dead. [_Begin again._] GLOUCESTER. Stay, stay, I say! And if you love me, as you say you do, Let me persuade you to forbear awhile. KING HENRY. 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? WARWICK. Yield, my Lord Protector; 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. WINCHESTER. He shall submit, or I will never yield. GLOUCESTER. Compassion on the King commands me stoop, Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest Should ever get that privilege of me. WARWICK. 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? GLOUCESTER. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. KING HENRY. Fie, 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? WARWICK. Sweet King! The bishop hath a kindly gird. For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent! What, shall a child instruct you what to do? WINCHESTER. Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee; Love for thy love and hand for hand I give. GLOUCESTER. [_Aside_.] 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! WINCHESTER. [_Aside_.] So help me God, as I intend it not! KING HENRY. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester, How joyful am I made by this contract! Away, my masters, trouble us no more, But join in friendship, as your lords have done. FIRST SERVINGMAN. Content. I’ll to the surgeon’s. SECOND SERVINGMAN. And so will I. THIRD SERVINGMAN. And I will see what physic the tavern affords. [_Exeunt Servingmen, Mayor, &c._] WARWICK. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet We do exhibit to your Majesty. GLOUCESTER. Well urged, 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. KING HENRY. And those occasions, uncle, were of force; Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is That Richard be restored to his blood. WARWICK. Let Richard be restored to his blood; So shall his father’s wrongs be recompensed. WINCHESTER. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. KING HENRY. 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. PLANTAGENET. Thy humble servant vows obedience And humble service till the point of death.