Shakespeare's First Folio - BestLightNovel.com
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And now Lord Protector, view the Letter Sent from our Vnckle Duke of Burgundy
Glo. What meanes his Grace, that he hath chaung'd his Stile?
No more but plaine and bluntly? (To the King.) Hath he forgot he is his Soueraigne?
Or doth this churlish Superscription Pretend some alteration in good will?
What's heere? I haue vpon especiall cause, Mou'd with compa.s.sion of my Countries wracke, Together with the pittifull complaints Of such as your oppression feedes vpon, Forsaken your pernitious Faction, And ioyn'd with Charles, the rightfull king of France.
O monstrous Treachery: Can this be so?
That in alliance, amity, and oathes, There should be found such false dissembling guile?
King. What? doth my Vnckle Burgundy reuolt?
Glo. He doth my Lord, and is become your foe
King. Is that the worst this Letter doth containe?
Glo. It is the worst, and all (my Lord) he writes
King. Why then Lord Talbot there shal talk with him, And giue him chasticement for this abuse.
How say you (my Lord) are you not content?
Tal. Content, my Liege? Yes: But y I am preuented, I should haue begg'd I might haue bene employd
King. Then gather strength, and march vnto him straight: Let him perceiue how ill we brooke his Treason, And what offence it is to flout his Friends
Tal. I go my Lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes.
Enter Vernon and Ba.s.sit.
Ver. Grant me the Combate, gracious Soueraigne
Bas. And me (my Lord) grant me the Combate too
Yorke. This is my Seruant, heare him n.o.ble Prince
Som. And this is mine (sweet Henry) fauour him
King. Be patient Lords, and giue them leaue to speak.
Say Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaime, And wherefore craue you Combate? Or with whom?
Ver. With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong
Bas. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong
King. What is that wrong, wherof you both complain First let me know, and then Ile answer you
Bas. Crossing the Sea, from England into France, This Fellow heere with enuious carping tongue, Vpbraided me about the Rose I weare, Saying, the sanguine colour of the Leaues Did represent my Masters blus.h.i.+ng cheekes: When stubbornly he did repugne the truth, About a certaine question in the Law, Argu'd betwixt the Duke of Yorke, and him: With other vile and ignominious tearmes.
In confutation of which rude reproach, And in defence of my Lords worthinesse, I craue the benefit of Law of Armes
Ver. And that is my pet.i.tion (n.o.ble Lord:) For though he seeme with forged queint conceite To set a glosse vpon his bold intent, Yet know (my Lord) I was prouok'd by him, And he first tooke exceptions at this badge, p.r.o.nouncing that the palenesse of this Flower, Bewray'd the faintnesse of my Masters heart
Yorke. Will not this malice Somerset be left?
Som. Your priuate grudge my Lord of York, wil out, Though ne're so cunningly you smother it
King. Good Lord, what madnesse rules in brainesicke men, When for so slight and friuolous a cause, Such factious aemulations shall arise?
Good Cosins both of Yorke and Somerset, Quiet your selues (I pray) and be at peace
Yorke. Let this dissention first be tried by fight, And then your Highnesse shall command a Peace
Som. The quarrell toucheth none but vs alone, Betwixt our selues let vs decide it then
Yorke. There is my pledge, accept it Somerset
Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first
Ba.s.s. Confirme it so, mine honourable Lord
Glo. Confirme it so? Confounded be your strife, And perish ye with your audacious prate, Presumptuous va.s.sals, are you not asham'd With this immodest clamorous outrage, To trouble and disturbe the King, and Vs?
And you my Lords, me thinkes you do not well To beare with their peruerse Obiections: Much lesse to take occasion from their mouthes, To raise a mutiny betwixt your selues.
Let me perswade you take a better course
Exet. It greeues his Highnesse, Good my Lords, be Friends
King. Come hither you that would be Combatants: Henceforth I charge you, as you loue our fauour, Quite to forget this Quarrell, and the cause.
And you my Lords: Remember where we are, In France, amongst a fickle wauering Nation: If they perceyue dissention in our lookes, And that within our selues we disagree; How will their grudging stomackes be prouok'd To wilfull Disobedience, and Rebell?
Beside, What infamy will there arise, When Forraigne Princes shall be certified, That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henries Peeres, and cheefe n.o.bility, Destroy'd themselues, and lost the Realme of France?
Oh thinke vpon the Conquest of my Father, My tender yeares, and let vs not forgoe That for a trifle, that was bought with blood.
Let me be Vmper in this doubtfull strife: I see no reason if I weare this Rose, That any one should therefore be suspitious I more incline to Somerset, than Yorke: Both are my kinsmen, and I loue them both.
As well they may vpbray'd me with my Crowne, Because (forsooth) the King of Scots is Crown'd.
But your discretions better can perswade, Then I am able to instruct or teach: And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let vs still continue peace, and loue.
Cosin of Yorke, we inst.i.tute your Grace To be our Regent in these parts of France: And good my Lord of Somerset, vnite Your Troopes of hors.e.m.e.n, with his Bands of foote, And like true Subiects, sonnes of your Progenitors, Go cheerefully together, and digest Your angry Choller on your Enemies.
Our Selfe, my Lord Protector, and the rest, After some respit, will returne to Calice; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented by your Victories, With Charles, Alanson, and that Traiterous rout.
Exeunt. Manet Yorke, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon.
War. My Lord of Yorke, I promise you the King Prettily (me thought) did play the Orator
Yorke. And so he did, but yet I like it not, In that he weares the badge of Somerset
War. Tush, that was but his fancie, blame him not, I dare presume (sweet Prince) he thought no harme
York. And if I wish he did. But let it rest, Other affayres must now be managed.
Exeunt.
Flourish. Manet Exeter.
Exet. Well didst thou Richard to suppresse thy voice: For had the pa.s.sions of thy heart burst out, I feare we should haue seene decipher'd there More rancorous spight, more furious raging broyles, Then yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd: But howsoere, no simple man that sees This iarring discord of n.o.bilitie, This shouldering of each other in the Court, This factious bandying of their Fauourites, But that it doth presage some ill euent.
'Tis much, when Scepters are in Childrens hands: But more, when Enuy breeds vnkinde deuision, There comes the ruine, there begins confusion.
Enter.
Enter Talbot with Trumpe and Drumme, before Burdeaux.
Talb. Go to the Gates of Burdeaux Trumpeter, Summon their Generall vnto the Wall.
Sounds.