Page:Henry VI Part 1 (1918) Yale.djvu/60

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Shall pitch a field when we are dead.

Glo.Stay, stay, I say!

And, if you love me, as you say you do,

Let me persuade you to forbear a while.

King. 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 smoothed brows it doth appear:

Why look you still so stern and tragical?

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

King. 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.

 103 pitch a field: do battle

121 privilege: advantage

131 gird: rebuke 