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Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious fovereign! Baf. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too! York. This is my fervant; Hear him, noble prince!

Som. And this is mine; Sweet Henry, favour him! K.Hen. Be patient lords, and give them leave to speak.— Say, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim?

And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom?

Ver. With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.
Baf. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong.
K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both com-

First let me know, and then I'll answer you.

Baf. Croffing the fea from England into France,
This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear;

Saying the fanguine colour of the leaves
Did reprefent my matter's blufhing cheeks,
When ftubbornly he did repugn the truth,
About a certain queftion in the law,
Argu'd betwixt the duke of York and him ;
With other vile and ignominious terms:
In confutation of which rude reproach,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
I crave the benefit of law of arms.

Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord :
For though he feem, with forged quaint conceit,
To fet a glofs upon his bold intent,

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Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him
And he first took exceptions at this badge,
Pronouncing-that the paleness' of this flower
Bewray'd the faintnefs of my mafter's heart.


York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?

Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will out, Though ne'er fo cunningly you smother it.

K. Hen. Good Lord! what madness rules in brainfick


When, for fo flight and frivolous a cause,
Such factious emulations fhall arife!-
Good coufins both, of York and Somerset,
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

York. Let this diffenfion first be try'd by fight,
And then your highness shall command a peace.
Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.
Ver. Nay, let it reft where it began at first.
Baf. Confirm it fo, mine honourable lord.
Glo. Confirm it fo? Confounded be your strife!
And perish ye, with your audacious prate!
Prefumptuous vaffals! are you not asham'd,
With this immodeft clamorous outrage
To trouble and disturb the king and us?
And you, my lords,-methinks, you do not well,
To bear with their perverfe objections;
Much lefs, to take occafion from their mouths
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves;

Let me perfuade you take a better course.

Exe. It grieves his highness;-Good my lords, be friends.

K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be combatants: Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour, Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause.And you, my lords,-remember where we are; In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation:


If they perceive diffenfion in our looks;
And that within ourselves we disagree,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd
To wilful difobedience, and rebel?

Beside, What infamy will there arise,
When foreign princes fhall be certify'd,

That, for a toy, a thing of no regard,
King Henry's peers, and chief nobility,
Destroy'd themselves, and loft the realm of France ?
O, think upon the conquest of my father,

My tender years; and let us not forego

That for a trifle, that was bought with blood!

Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.

I see no reason, if I wear this rofe, [Putting on a red rofe. That any one should therefore be fufpicious

I more incline to Somerset, than York:

Both are my kinfmen, and I love them both:
As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
Because, forfooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
But your difcretions better can perfuade,
Than I am able to inftruct or teach:
And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
So let us still continue peace and love.-
Coufin of York, we inftitute your grace
To be our regent in these parts of France :-
And good my lord of Somerfet, unite

Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot ;-
And, like true fubjects, fons of your progenitors,
Go cheerfully together, and digeft

Your angry choler on your enemies.

Qurfelf, my lord protector, and the reft,
After fome refpite, will return to Calais;

From thence to England; where I hope ere long


To be presented, by your victories,

With Charles, Alençon, and that traiterous rout.

[Flourish. Exeunt King HENRY, GLO, SOM. WIN. SUF. and BASSET.

War. My lord of York, I promise you, the king Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

York. And fo he did; but yet I like it not,

In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

War. Tush! that was but his fancy, blame him not; I dare prefume, fweet prince, he thought no harm. York. And, if I wift, he did,-But let it reft; Other affairs must now be managed.

[Exeunt YORK, WARWICK, and VERNON. Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to fupprefs thy voice: For, had the paffions of thy heart burst out,

I fear, we should have feen decipher'd there
More rancorous fpite, more furious raging broils,
Than yet can be imagin'd or fuppos'd.

But how foe'er, no fimple man that fees

This jarring difcord of nobility,

This fhould'ring of each other in the court,
This factious bandying of their favourites,

But that it doth prefage fome ill event.

'Tis much, when scepters are in children's hands; But more, when envy breeds unkind division; There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.


France. Before Bourdeaux.

Enter TALBOT, with his Forces.

Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter, Summon their general unto the wall.




Trumpet founds a parley. Enter, on the walls, the General of the French Forces, and Others.

English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
Servant in arms to Harry king of England;
And thus he would,-Open your city gates,
Be humble to us; call my fovereign yours,
And do him homage as obedient subjects,
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power:
But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;
Who, in a moment, even with the earth
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
If you forfake the offer of their love.

Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
Our nation's terror, and their bloody fcourge!
The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
On us thou canst not enter, but by death:
For, I protest, we are well fortify'd,
And strong enough to issue out and fight:
If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
Stands with the fnares of war to tangle thee:
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd,
To wall thee from the liberty of flight;

And no way canft thou turn thee for redress,
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
Ten thousand French have ta'en the facrament,
To rive their dangerous artillery

Upon no christian foul but English Talbot.

Lo! there thou ftand'st, a breathing valiant man,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit:

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