Complete Plays, The (250 page)

First Gaoler

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 Gaoler

My lord, your loving nephew now is come.

Mortimer

Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?
Richard

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?
Richard

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.
Richard

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,
Endeavor’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, the 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 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 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 tide rested, were suppress’d.
Richard

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.
Richard

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.
Richard

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

Richard

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, 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 my ill the advantage of my good.

Exit

A
CT
III

S
CENE
I. L
ONDON
. T
HE
P
ARLIAMENT
-
HOUSE
.

Flourish. Enter King Henry VI, Exeter, Gloucester, Warwick, Somerset, and Suffolk; the Bishop Of Winchester, Richard Plantagenet, and others. Gloucester offers to put up a bill; Bishop Of Winchester snatches it, and tears it

Bishop of Winchester

Comest 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,
Forward 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.

Bishop of 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!

Bishop of Winchester

Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray,
But one imperious in another’s throne?

Gloucester

Am I not protector, saucy priest?

Bishop of 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.

Bishop of Winchester

Unreverent Gloster!

Gloucester

Thou art reverent
Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.

Bishop of 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?
Richard

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 VI

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 Serving-men, in skirmish, with bloody pates

King Henry VI

We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,
To hold your slaughtering 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 slaughtered 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 VI

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.

Bishop of 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 VI

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?

Bishop of 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!

Bishop of Winchester

[Aside]
 
So help me God, as I intend it not!

King Henry VI