Which Obloquy fet Bars before my Tongue, And for Alliance fake, declare the Cause, Mor. This Caufe, fair Nephew, that imprison'd me, And hath detain❜d me all my flow'ring Youth, Within a loathfome Dungeon, there to pine, Was curfed Inftrument 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, Endeavour'd my Advancement to the Throne, I was the next by Birth and Parentage: From Lyonel Duke of Clarence, the third Son And And have inftall'd me in the Diadem: Plan. Of which, my Lord, your Honour is the laft; - Plan. Thy grave Admonishments prevail with me: Mor. With filence, Nephew, be thou politick: Plan. Ŏ Uncle, would fome part of my young Years Might but redeem the Paffage of your Age.. Mor. Thou doft then wrong me, as that flaughter doth, Which giveth many Wounds, when one will kill. Mourn not, except thou forrow for Only give order for my Funeral. my Good, And fo farewel, and fair be all thy Hopes; And profperous be thy Life in Peace and War. In Prifon haft thou spent a Pilgrimage, [Diesi Either Either to be restored to my Blood, Or make my Will th' advantage of my Good. [Exit, ACT III. SCENE I. Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Gloucefter, Win chefter, Warwick, Somerfet, Suffolk, and Richard Plantagenet. Gloucefter offers to put up a Bill: Winchefter fnatches it, and tears it. Om't thou with deep premeditated Lines? As I with fudden, and extemporal Speech, Itience, Glo. Prefumptuous Prieft, this place commands my Pa Or thou fhould'ft find thou haft dishonour'd me. Think not, although in Writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outragious Crimes, That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the Method of my Pen. No, Prelate, fuch is thy audacious Wickedness, Thy leud, peftiferous, and diffentious Pranks, As very Infants prattle of thy Pride. Thou art a moft pernicious Ufurer, Froward by Nature, Enemy to Peace, Lafcivious, wanton, more than well befeems A Man of thy Profeffion, and Degree. And for thy Treachery, what's more manifeft? In that thou laid'ft a Trap to take my Life, As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower. Befide, I fear me, if thy Thoughts were fifted, The King, thy Soveraign, is not quite exempt From envious Malice of thy fwelling Heart. Win. Glofter, I do defie thee. Lords, vouchsafe To give me hearing what I fhall reply. If I were Covetous, Ambitious, or Perverse, As As he will have me; how am I fo poor? Thou Baftard of my Grandfather. Win. Ay, Lordly Sir; for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in another's Throne? Glo. Am not 1 Protector, fawcy Priest? Glo. Thou art Reverend, Touching thy fpiritual Function, not thy Life, War. Roam thither then. My Lord, it were your Duty to forbear. Som. Ay, fee the Bishop be not over-born: War. Methinks his Lord fhip fhould be humbler, It fitteth not a Prelate fo to plead. Som. Yes, when his holy State is touch'd fo near. War. State holy, or unhallow'd, what of that? Is not his Grace Protector to the King? Rich. Plantagenet I see must hold his Tongue, Left it be faid, Speak, Sirrah, when you should, Muft your bold Verdict enter talk with Lords? Elfe would I have a fling at Winchester. K. Henry. Uncles of Glofter and of Winchester, The fpecial Watchmen of our English Weal, I would prevail, if Prayers might prevail, That gnaws the Bowels of the Common-wealth. War. An Uproar, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishop's Men. : [Anoife again, Stones, Stones. Enter Major Mayor. Oh, my good Lords, and virtuous Henry, Pity the City of London, pity us: The Bishop, and the Duke of Glofter's Men, That many have their giddy Brains knock'd out: K. Henry. We charge you on Allegiance to our felves, To hold your flaughtering Hands, and keep the Peace: Pray, Uncle Glofter, mitigate this Strife. 1.Serv. Nay, if we be forbidden Stones, we'll fall to it with our Teethany 2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as refolute. [Skirmish again. Glo. You of my Houfhold leave this peevith broil, And fet this unaccustom'a fight afide." 3 Serv. My Lord, we know your Grace to be a Man Juft, and upright; and for your Royal Birth, Inferior to none, but to his Majefty? And ere that we will fuffer fuch a Prince, And |