SECOND SERVINGMAN.
Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.
[Skirmish again.]
GLOUCESTER.
You of my household, leave this peevish broil,
And set this unaccustom’d fight aside.
THIRD SERVINGMAN.
My lord, we know your Grace to be a man
Just and upright, and, for your royal birth,
Inferior to none but to his Majesty;
And ere that we will suffer such a prince,
So kind a father of the commonweal,
To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,
We and our wives and children all will fight
And have our bodies slaughter’d by thy foes.
FIRST SERVINGMAN.
Ay, and the very parings of our nails
Shall pitch a field when we are dead.
[Begin again.]
GLOUCESTER.
Stay, stay, I say!
And if you love me, as you say you do,
Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.
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.