Our windows are broke down in every street,

And we, for fear, compell'd to shut our shops.

Enter, skirmishing, the Serving-men of GLOSTER and WINCHESTER, with bloody pates.

K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaughtering hands, and keep the peace.— Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife.

First Serv. Nay, if we be

Forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth.
Sec. 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.

Third 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.

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

Glo.
An if you love me, as you say you do,

Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.

[Skirmish again.

Stay, stay, I say!

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?

War. 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.

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 smoothèd brows it doth appear:

Why look you still so stern and tragical?

Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.

K. Hen. 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?

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!

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 contract!-
Away, my masters! trouble us no more;

But join in friendship, as your lords have done.
First Serv. Content: I'll to the surgeon's.
Sec. Serv.

And so will I.

Third Serv. And I will see what physic the tavern affords. [Exeunt Serving-men, 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,

An 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,(4)
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.(45)

K. Hen. Stoop, then, and set your knee against my foot; And, in reguerdon 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

That grudge one thought against your majesty!

All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke of York!
Som. Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York! [Aside.
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 goes; For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

Glo. Your ships already are in readiness.

[Flourish. Exeunt all except 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 feignèd ashes of forg'd love,

And will at last break out into a flame:

As fester'd members rot but by degree,
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 (46) lose all :
Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish
His days may finish ere that hapless time.

[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 Rouen,
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.

First Sol. 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. Paysans, pauvres gens de France,—

Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn.

[Knocks.

Guard [opening the gates]. Enter, go in; the market-bell

is rung.

Puc. Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.

[La Pucelle, &c. enter the town.

Enter CHARLES, the 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 (47) 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 do execution on the watch.

[They enter the town. Exit La Pucelle above.
Alarum. Enter, from the town, TALBOT and English Soldiers.
Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.-

Pucelle, that witch, that damnèd sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escap'd the pride of France.

[Exeunt into 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?

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!