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And death approach not ere my tale be done.

Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,
Depos'd 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 mov'd these warlike lords to this

Was, for that-young Richard thus remov'd,
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 laboured 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 deriv'd

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 remov'd.
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 GAOLERS, hearing out the body of 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 th' advantage of my good. Exit
ACT III. SCENE 1.

London. The Parliament House
Flourish. Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER,

WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF
WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others.

GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; WINCHESTER
snatches it, and tears it

WINCHESTER. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines,
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd?

Humphrey of Gloucester, if thou canst accuse
Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,

Do it without invention, suddenly;
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 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,
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 enviousmalice 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 provok'd?
No, my good lords, it is not that offends;

It is not that that incens'd 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

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 spiritualfunction, not thy life.
WINCHESTER. Rome shall remedy this.

WARWICK. Roam thither then.
SOMERSET. My lord, it were your duty to forbear.

WARWICK. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.
SOMERSET. 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 the MAYOR OF LONDON, attended

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 in skirmish, the retainers of GLOUCESTER and
WINCHESTER, with bloody pates

KING HENRY. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,
To hold your slaught'ring hands and keep the peace.

Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.
FIRST SERVING-MAN. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we'll

fall to it with our teeth.
SECOND SERVING-MAN. 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 SERVING-MAN. 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 slaught'red by thy foes.

FIRST SERVING-MAN. 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,



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