Part 11

Yorke. Thankes gentle. Come, let vs foure to Dinner: I dare say, This Quarrell will drinke Blood another day.

Exeunt.

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chayre, and Iaylors.

Mort. Kind Keepers of my weake decaying Age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himselfe. Euen like a man new haled from the Wrack, So fare my Limbes with long Imprisonment: And these gray Locks, the Pursuiuants of death, Nestor-like aged, in an Age of Care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. These Eyes like Lampes, whose wasting Oyle is spent, Waxe dimme, as drawing to their Exigent. Weake Shoulders, ouer-borne with burthening Griefe, And pyth-lesse Armes, like to a withered Vine, That droupes his sappe-lesse Branches to the ground. Yet are these Feet, whose strength-lesse stay is numme, (Vnable to support this Lumpe of Clay) Swift-winged with desire to get a Graue, As witting I no other comfort haue. But tell me, Keeper, will my Nephew come? Keeper. Richard Plantagenet, my Lord, will come: We sent vnto the Temple, vnto his Chamber, And answer was return'd, that he will come

Mort. Enough: my Soule shall then be satisfied. Poore Gentleman, his wrong doth equall mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reigne, Before whose Glory I was great in Armes, This loathsome sequestration haue I had; And euen since then, hath Richard beene obscur'd, Depriu'd of Honor and Inheritance. But now, the Arbitrator of Despaires, Iust Death, kinde Vmpire of mens miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismisse me hence: I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, That so he might recouer what was lost. Enter Richard.

Keeper. My Lord, your louing Nephew now is come

Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? Rich. I, Noble Vnckle, thus ignobly vs'd, Your Nephew, late despised Richard, comes

Mort. Direct mine Armes, I may embrace his Neck, And in his Bosome spend my latter gaspe. Oh tell me when my Lippes doe touch his Cheekes, That I may kindly giue one fainting Kisse. And now declare sweet Stem from Yorkes great Stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd? Rich. First, leane thine aged Back against mine Arme, And in that ease, Ile tell thee my Disease. This day in argument vpon a Case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me: Among which tearmes, he vs'd his lauish tongue, And did vpbrayd me with my Fathers death; Which obloquie set barres before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him. Therefore good Vnckle, for my Fathers sake, In honor of a true Plantagenet, And for Alliance sake, declare the cause My Father, Earle of Cambridge, lost his Head

Mort. That cause (faire Nephew) that imprison'd me, And hath detayn'd me all my flowring Youth, Within a loathsome Dungeon, there to pyne, Was cursed Instrument of his decease

Rich. Discouer more at large what cause that was, For I am ignorant, and cannot guesse

Mort. 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 Nephew Richard, Edwards Sonne, The first begotten, and the lawfull Heire Of Edward King, the Third of that Descent. During whose Reigne, the Percies of the North, Finding his Vsurpation most vniust, Endeuour'd my aduancement to the Throne. The reason mou'd these Warlike Lords to this, Was, for that (young Richard thus remou'd, Leauing no Heire begotten of his Body) I was the next by Birth and Parentage: For by my Mother, I deriued am From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third Sonne To King Edward the Third; whereas hee, From Iohn of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree, Being but fourth of that Heroick Lyne. But marke: as in this haughtie great attempt, They laboured, to plant the rightfull Heire, I lost my Libertie, and they their Liues. Long after this, when Henry the Fift (Succeeding his Father Bullingbrooke) did reigne; Thy Father, Earle of Cambridge, then deriu'd From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of Yorke, Marrying my Sister, that thy Mother was; Againe, in pitty of my hard distresse, Leuied an Army, weening to redeeme, And haue install'd me in the Diademe: But as the rest, so fell that Noble Earle, And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, In whom the Title rested, were supprest

Rich. Of which, my Lord, your Honor is the last

Mort. True; and thou seest, that I no Issue haue, And that my fainting words doe warrant death: Thou art my Heire; the rest, I wish thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care

Rich. Thy graue admonishments preuayle with me: But yet me thinkes, my Fathers execution Was nothing lesse then bloody Tyranny

Mort. With silence, Nephew, be thou pollitick, Strong fixed is the House of Lancaster, And like a Mountaine, not to be remou'd. But now thy Vnckle is remouing hence, As Princes doe their Courts, when they are cloy'd With long continuance in a setled place

Rich. O Vnckle, would some part of my young yeeres Might but redeeme the passage of your Age

Mort. Thou do'st then wrong me, as y slaughterer doth, Which giueth many Wounds, when one will kill. Mourne not, except thou sorrow for my good, Onely giue order for my Funerall. And so farewell, and faire be all thy hopes, And prosperous be thy Life in Peace and Warre.

Dyes.

Rich. And Peace, no Warre, befall thy parting Soule. In Prison hast thou spent a Pilgrimage, And like a Hermite ouer-past thy dayes. Well, I will locke his Councell in my Brest, And what I doe imagine, let that rest. Keepers conuey him hence, and I my selfe Will see his Buryall better then his Life. Enter.

Here dyes the duskie Torch of Mortimer, Choakt with Ambition of the meaner sort. And for those Wrongs, those bitter Iniuries, Which Somerset hath offer'd to my House, I doubt not, but with Honor to redresse. And therefore haste I to the Parliament, Eyther to be restored to my Blood, Or make my will th' aduantage of my good. Enter.

Actus Tertius. Scena Prima.

Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloster, Winchester, Warwick. Somerset, Suffolk, Richard Plantagenet. Gloster offers to put vp a Bill: Winchester snatches it, teares it.

Winch. Com'st thou with deepe premeditated Lines? With written Pamphlets, studiously deuis'd? Humfrey of Gloster, if thou canst accuse, Or ought intend'st to lay vnto my charge, Doe it without inuention, suddenly, As I with sudden, and extemporall speech, Purpose to answer what thou canst obiect

Glo. Presumptuous Priest, this place comands my patiece, Or thou should'st finde thou hast dis-honor'd me. Thinke not, although in Writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outragious Crymes, That therefore I haue forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the Methode of my Penne. No Prelate, such is thy audacious wickednesse, Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious prancks, As very Infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a most pernitious Vsurer, Froward by nature, Enemie to Peace, Lasciuious, wanton, more then well beseemes A man of thy Profession, and Degree. And for thy Trecherie, what's more manifest? In that thou layd'st a Trap to take my Life, As well at London Bridge, as at the Tower. Beside, I feare me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The King, thy Soueraigne, is not quite exempt From enuious mallice of thy swelling heart

Winch. Gloster, I doe defie thee. Lords vouchsafe To giue me hearing what I shall reply. If I were couetous, ambitious, or peruerse, As he will haue me: how am I so poore? Or how haps it, I seeke not to aduance Or rayse my selfe? but keepe my wonted Calling. And for Dissention, who preferreth Peace More then I doe? except I be prouok'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 hee, No one, but hee, should be about the King; And that engenders Thunder in his breast, And makes him rore these Accusations forth. But he shall know I am as good

Glost. As good? Thou Bastard of my Grandfather

Winch. I, Lordly Sir: for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in anothers Throne? Glost. Am I not Protector, sawcie Priest? Winch. And am not I a Prelate of the Church? Glost. Yes, as an Out-law in a Castle keepes, And vseth it, to patronage his Theft

Winch. Vnreuerent Glocester