Som. Methinks, my lord should be religious, And know the office that belongs to such. War. Methinks, his lordship should be humbler; Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near. Plan. Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue; [Aside. K. Hen. Uncles of Gloster, and of Winchester, [A Noise within; Down with the tawny Coats! What tumult's this? 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 and the duke of Gloster's men, Enter, skirmishing, the Retainers of GLOSTER and 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't 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 his majesty: And, ere that we will suffer such a prince, 1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field, when we are dead. [Skirmish again. Stay, stay, I say! Glo. K. Hen. O, how this discord doth afflict my soul! War. My lord protector, yield;-yield, Winches ter;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: Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. That malice was a great and grievous sin: War. Sweet king!-the bishop hath a kindly gird.- 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.- [Aside. Win. So help me God, as I intend it not! How joyful am I made by this contract!- 2 Serv. And so will I. 3 Serv. And I will see what physic the tavern affords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, &c. War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign; Glo. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick; for, sweet [prince, 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, And, in reguerdon of that duty done, Plan. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall! And as my duty springs, so perish they That grudge one thought against your majesty! All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke of York! Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty, As it disanimates his enemies. [Aside. K. Hen. When Gloster says the word, king Henry For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. Gle. Your ships already are in readiness. [goes; [Exeunt all but Exeter. Exe. Ay, we may march in England, or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue: Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish [Exit. 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 Roüen; Therefore we'll knock. [Knocks. Guard. [Within] Qui est là? [Opens the Gates. Puc. Now, Roüen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. [Pucelle, &c. enter the City. Enter CHARLES, BASTARD of ORLEANS, ALENÇON, and Forces. Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem! Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants; 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 Roüen unto her countrymen: Bast. See, noble Charles! the beacon of our friend, The burning torch in yonder turret stands. |