Plan. My Father was attached, not attainted,
Condemn'd to die for Treason, but not Traitor;
And that I'll prove on better Men than Somerset,
Were growing time once ripened to my Will.
For your Partaker Pool, and you your felf,
I'll note you in my Book of Memory,
To fcourge you for this apprehenfion:
Look to it well, and fay you are well warn'd.
Som. Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still;
And know us by thefe Colours, for thy Foes:
For thefe, my Friends in fpight of thee fhall wear.
Plan. And by my Soul, this pale and angry Rofe,
As Cognizance of my Blood-drinking hate,
Will I for ever, and my Faction wear,
Until it wither with me to my Grave,

Or flourish to the height of my Degree.

Suf. Go forward, and be choak'd with thy ambition: And fo farewel, until I meet thee next.

Som. Have with thee, Pool: Farewel, ambitious Ri

chard.

[Exit.

[Exit.

Plan, How I am brav'd, and muft perforce endure it! War. This blot, that they object against your House,

Shall be wip'd out in the next Parliament,

Call'd for the Truce of Winchester and Gloucester:
And if thou be not then created York,
I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
Mean time, in fignal of my love to thee,
Against proud Somerset, and William Pool,
Will I upon thy party wear this Rofe.
And here I prophefie; this Brawl to day,
Grown to this Faction in the Temple Garden,
Shall fend between the red Rofe and the white,
A thousand Souls to death and deadly Night.

Plan. Good Mafter Vernon, I am bound to you,
That you on my behalf would pluck a Flower.
Ver. In your behalf ftill will I wear the fame.
Lawyer. And fo will I.

Plan. Thanks, gentle Sir.

Come, let us four to dinner; I dare fay,
This Quarrel will drink Bloed another day.

[Exeunt.

Enter

Enter Mortimer, brought in a Chair, and Jailors,
Mor. Kind Keepers of my weak decaying Age,
Let dying Mortimer here reft himself.

Even like a Man new haled from the Wrack,
So fare my Limbs with long Imprifonment :
And thefe gray Locks, the Purfuivants of Death,
Neftor-like aged, in an Age of Care,

Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.

Thefe Eyes, like Lamps, whofe wafting Oil is spent,
Wax dim, as drawing to their Exigent.

Weak Shoulders, over-born with burthening Grief,
And pithless Arms, like to a withered Vine,
That droops his faplefs Branches to the Ground,
Yet are thefe Feet, whofe ftrengthlefs ftay is num,
(Unable to fupport this Lump of Clay)
Swift-winged with defire to get a Grave,
As witting I no other comfort have.

But tell me, Keeper, will my Nephew come?
Keeper. Richard Plantaganet, my Lord, will come;
We fent unto the Temple, to his Chamber,
And answer was return'd, that he will come,
Mor. Enough; my Soul then fhall be fatisfied.
Poor Gentleman, his wrong doth equal mine.
Since Henry Monmouth first began to Reign,
Before whofe Glory I was great in Arms,
This loathfome fequeftration have I had;
And even fince then, hath Richard been obscur'd,
Depriv'd of Honour and Inheritance.

But now, the Arbitrator of Defpairs,

Juft Death, kind Umpire of Mens Miferies,
With Sweet Enlargement doth dismiss me hence:
I would his troubles likewife were expir'd,

That fo he might recover what was lost.

Enter Richard Plantaganet.

Keeper. My Lord, your loving Nephew now is come. Mor. Richard Plantaganet, my Friend, is he come? Plan. I, noble Uncle, thus ignobly us'd,

Your Nephew, late defpifed Richard, comes.

Mor. Direct mine Arms, I may embrace his Neck,

And in his Befom fpend my later gafp.

Oh tell me when my Lips do touch his Cheeks,

That

That I may kindly give one fainting Kifs:

And now declare, fweet Stem from York's great Stock, Why did'st thou fay of late thou wert defpis'd?

Plan. Firft, lean thine aged Back against mine Arm,
And in that eafe I'll tell thee my Disease.
This day in Argument upon a Case,

Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me:
Amongft which terms, he us'd his lavish Tongue,
And did upbraid me with my Father's Death;
Which obloquy fet Bars before my Tongue,
Elfe with the like I had requited him.
Therefore, good Uncle, for my Father's fake,
In honour of a true Plantaganet,

And for Alliance fake, declare the Cause,
My Father, Earl of Cambridge, loft his Head.

Mor. This Caufe, fair Nephew, that imprison'd me,
And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring Youth,
Within a loathsome 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,
And Death approach not, e'er my Tale be done.
Henry the Fourth, Grandfather to this King,
Depos'd his Cousin Richard, Edward's Son,
The firft begotten, and the lawful Heir

Of Edward King, the third of that Descent.
During whofe Reign, the Piercies of the North,
Finding his Ulurpation most unjust,

Endeavour'd my advancement to the Throne.
The Reafon mov'd thefe warlike Lords to this,
Was, for that, young King Richard thus remov'd,
Leaving no Heir begotten of his Body,

I was the next by Birth and Parentage:
For by my Mother I derived am

From Lyonel Duke of Clarence, the third Son
To King Edward the Third; whereas he,
From John of Gaunt doth bring his Pedigree,
Being but the fourth of that Heroick Line.
But mark; as in this haughty great attempt,
They laboured to Plant the rightful Heir,

I loft my Liberty, and they their Lives.
Long after this, when Henry the Fifth,
Succeeding his Father Bullingbroke, did Reign;
Thy Father, Earl of Cambridge, then deriv'd
From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York,
Marrying my Sifter, that thy Mother was;
Again, in pity of my hard diftrefs,
Levied an Army, weening to redeem,
And have inftall'd me in the Diadem:
But as the reft, fo fell that noble Earl,
And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
In whom the Title refted, were supprest.

Plan. Of which, my Lord, your Honour is the laft.
Mor. True; and thou feeft, that I no Iffue have,
And that my fainting words do warrant death:
Thou art my Heir; the reft, I wish thee gather:
But yet be wary in thy ftudious Care.

Plan. Thy grave Admonishments prevail with me:
But yet, methinks, my Father's Execution

Was nothing less than bloody Tyranny,

Mor. With filence, Nephew, be thou politick:
Strong fixed is the House of Lancaster,
And like a Mountain, not to be remov❜d.
But now thy Uncle is removing hence,

As Princes do their Courts, when they are cloy'd
With long continuance in a fetled place.

Plan. O Uncle, would fome part of my young Years

Might but redeem the paffage of your Age.

Mer. Thou doft then wrong me, as that flaughter doth,

Which giveth many Wounds, when one will kill.

Mourn not, except thou forrow for my good,

Only give order for my Funeral.

And fo farewel, and fair be all thy hopes;
And profperous be thy Life in Peace and War.
Plan. And Peace, no War, befall thy parting Soul.

In Prifon haft thou spent a Pilgrimage,
And like a Hermite over-paft thy days.
Well, I will lock his Counsel in my Breaft,
And what I do imagine, let that reft.
Keepers convey him hence, and I my felf
Will fee his Burial better than his Life.

[Dies

Here

Here dies the dusky Torch of Mortimer,
Choak'd with Ambition of the meaner fort.
And for thofe Wrongs, thofe bitter Injuries,
Which Somerfet hath offer'd to my House,
I doubt not, but with Honour to redress.
And therefore hafte I to the Parliament,
Either to be restored to my Blood,
Or make my will th'advantage of my good.

ACT

III.

SCENE I.

[Exit.

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Gloucefter, Winchefter, Warwick, Somerfet, Suffolk, and Richard Plantaganet. Gloucefter offers to put up a Bill: Winchefter Snatches it, and tears it.

Win. 'Om'ft thou with deep premeditated Lines?

C

With written Pamphlets, ftudiously devis'd?
Humphry of Glo'fter, if thou canst accufe,
Or ought intend❜ft to lay unto my charge,
Do it without invention, fuddenly,

As I with fudden, and extemporal Speech,
Purpose to answer what thou canst object.

[ence,

Glo. Presumptuous Prieft, this place commands my pati

Or thou should'ft find thou haft difhonour'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.