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Som. Ay, 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. Plan. 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. Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition! And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit. Som. Have with thee, Poole. Farewell, ambitious Richard, [Exit. Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure it!


War. This blot, that they object against your house, Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster: And, if thou be not then created York, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Mean time, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, Will I upon thy party wear this rose: And here I prophesy. - This brawl to-day, 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. 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 same. Law. And so will I.

Plan. Thanks, gentle sir,

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These eyes-like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent 8:
Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'ning 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?

1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber; And answer was return'd, that he will come.

Mor. 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 obscur'd,
Depriv'd 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 expir'd,
That so he might recover what was lost.

7 Pursuivants are officers who attend upon heralds.
• End.


1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. Mor. Richard Piantagenet, my friend? Is he come? 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: 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 despis'd?

Plan. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm? And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease. 9 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. Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me, And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth, Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease.

Plan. Discover more at large what cause that was: For I am ignorant, and cannot guess.

Mor. 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 cousin 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 king 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, the third son
To king Edward the third, whereas he,
From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree,
Being but fourth of that heroick 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 my 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.

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Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politick;
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.

Plan. O, uncle, 'would some part of my young years

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.

SCENE 1.- The Parliament House.

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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 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 vile, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks,
That 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 envious malice of thy swelling heart.
Win. Gloster, 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 hath incens'd the duke:
It is, because no one should sway but he;
No one, but he, should be about the king;

2 i. e. Articles of Accusation.

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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.


Roam thither, then. 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 humbler; 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, 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. 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 dissension 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's 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 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.

3 Serv. 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.

1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field, when we are dead.


[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?

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 contráct! —
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 physick the tavern affords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, &c. War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet, We do exhibit to your majesty.

Glo. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick; - for,
sweet prince,

And 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,
That Richard be restored to his blood.

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 alone
But all the whole inheritance I give,
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 against my foot;

And, in reguerdon 4 of that duty done,

I girt thee with the valiant sword of York.
Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet;
And rise created princely duke of York.

Plan. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall!
And as my duty springs so perish they

War. My lord protector, yield; -yield Win- That grudge one thought against your majesty!


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.

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

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?

War. Sweet king!—the bishop hath a kindly gird.
For shame, my lord of Winchester! relent;
What, shall a child instruct you what to do?

Win. Well, duke of Gloster, I will yield to thee;
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;
This token serveth for a flag of truce,
Betwixt ourselves, and all our followers;
So help me God, as I dissemble not!

3 Feels an emotion of kindness,

All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke of

Som. Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of York.


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

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 France,
Not seeing what is likely to ensue :
This late dissension, 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. [Exit.

4 Recompense.

SCENE II.-France. Before Rouen.

Enter LA PUCELLE disguised, and Soldiers dressed
like Countrymen, with Sacks upon their 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,
That come to gather money for their corn.
If we have entrance, (as, I hope, we shall,)
And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,
That Charles the dauphin may encounter them.
1 Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
And we be lords and rulers over Rouen;
Therefore we'll knock.


Guard. [Within.] Qui est là ? Puc. Paisans, pauvres gens de France: Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn. 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 Denis 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 Where is the best and safest passage in?

Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower; Which once discern'd shows that her meaning is,— No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd. 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; But burning fatal to the Talbotites.

Bast. See, noble Charles! the beacon of our friend,

The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
A prophet to the fall of all our foes!

Alen. Defer no time, Delays have dangerous ends;
Enter, and cry-The Dauphin ! -presently,
And then to execution on the watch.

[They enter.

Alarums. Enter TALBOT, and certain English. Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy


If Talbot but survive thy treachery. —
Pucelle, that witch, that cursed sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escap'd the pride of France.

[Exeunt to the Town. Alarum: Excursions. Enter from the Town, BEDFORD, brought in sick, in a Chair, with TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the English Forces. Then enter, on the Walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, Bastard, ALENÇON, and others.

Puc. Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for bread?

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?

5 Confederates in stratagems,

i. e. No way equal to that.

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, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, And twit with cowardice a man half dead? Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. Puc. Are you so hot, sir? — Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;

If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. —
[TALBOT, and the rest consult together.
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 Hecaté,
But unto thee, Alençon, and the rest;
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?
Alen. Signior, no.

Tal. Signior, hang! - base muleteers of France! 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. We came, sir, but to tell you we are here.

[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 publick wrongs, sustain'd in France,) Either to get the town again, or die: And I, as sure as English Henry lives, And as his father here was conqueror; As sure as in this late betrayed town Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried; So sure I swear to get the town, or die. Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy vows. Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, We will bestow you in some better place, The valiant duke of Bedford: Come, my lord, Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age.

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Fast. Whither away? to save myself by flight; We are like to have the overthrow again.

Cap. What! will you fly, and leave lord Talbot? Fast.

Ay, All the Talbots in the world to save my life. [Exit. Cup. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee! [Exit. Retreat: Excursions. Enter from the Town, LA PUCELLE, ALENÇON, CHARLES, &c. and exeunt, flying.

Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please; For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish men? They, that of late were daring with their scoffs, Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.

[Dies, and is carried off in his Chair. Alarum: Enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and others. Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again! This is a double honour, Burgundy: Yet, heavens have glory for this victory!

Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart; and there erects Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument.

Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?

I think, her old familiar is asleep :

Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks? 7

What, all a-mort? 8 Rouen hangs her head for grief,
That such a valiant company are fled.
Now will we take some order 9 in the town,
Placing therein some expert officers;
And then depart to Paris, to the king:
For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies.

Bur. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy.
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Roüen;
A braver soldier never couched lance,
A gentler heart did never sway in court:
But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die;
For that's the end of human misery.


SCENE III.-The Plains near the City.
Enter CHARLES, the Bastard, Alençon, La
PUCELLE, and Forces.

Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident,
Nor grieve that Roüen is so recovered:
Care is no cure, but rather córrosive,
For things that are not to be remedied.
Let frantick Talbot triumph for a while,
And like a peacock sweep along his tail;
We'll pull his plumes, and take away his train,
If dauphin, and the rest, will be but rul'd.

Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence;
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.

Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies,
And we will make thee famous through the world.
Alen. We'll set thy statue in some holy place,
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint;
Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.
Puc. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:
By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words,
We will entice the duke of Burgundy

To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.

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Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's warriors; Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped from our provinces.

Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd from

And not have title to an earldom here.
Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will work,
To bring this matter to the wished end.

[Drums heard. Hark! by the sound of drum, you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. An English March. Enter, and pass over at a distance, TALBOT and his Forces. There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread; And all the troops of English after him.

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Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence.

Char. Speak, Pucelle; and enchant him with thy words.

Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.

Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe!

As looks the mother on her lowly babe,
When death doth close his tender dying eyes,
See, see, the pining malady of France;
Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast!
O, turn thy edged sword another way;

Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help!
One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom,
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign


Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears,
And wash away thy country's stained spots!
Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her


Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

Puc. Besides, all French and France exclaims on



Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation,
That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France,
And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
Who then, but English Henry, will be lord,
And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive;
Call we to mind, — and mark but this, for proof; —
Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe?
And was he not in England prisoner ?
But, when they heard he was thine enemy,
They set him free, without his ransome paid,
In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends.
See then! thou fight'st against thy countrymen,
2 Expelled.

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