KING HENRY.
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?
WARWICK.
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.
WINCHESTER.
He shall submit, or I will never yield.
GLOUCESTER.
Compassion on the King commands me stoop,
Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest
Should ever get that privilege of me.
WARWICK.
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?
GLOUCESTER.
Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.
KING HENRY.
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?
WARWICK.
Sweet King! The bishop hath a kindly gird.
For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent!
What, shall a child instruct you what to do?
WINCHESTER.
Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee;
Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.
GLOUCESTER.
[Aside.] Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.—
See here, my friends and loving countrymen,
This token serveth for a flag of truce
Betwixt ourselves and all our followers,
So help me God, as I dissemble not!