Enter Gloucester, with his Serving-men in blue coats
I am come to survey the Tower this day: Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance. Where be these warders, that they wait not here? Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls.
Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine? There's none protector of the realm but I. Break up the gates, I'll be your warrantize. Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?
Gloucester's men rush at the Tower Gates, and Woodvile the Lieutenant speaks within
Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? Open the gates; here's Gloucester that would enter.
Have patience, noble duke; I may not open; The Cardinal of Winchester forbids: From him I have express commandment That thou nor none of thine shall be let in.
Faint-hearted Woodvile, prizest him 'fore me? Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate, Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook? Thou art no friend to God or to the king: Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly.
Open the gates unto the lord protector, Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.
Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates Bishop OF Winchester and his men in tawny coats
Stand back, thou manifest conspirator, Thou that contrivedst to murder our dead lord; Thou that givest whores indulgences to sin: I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, If thou proceed in this thy insolence.
Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot: This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.
I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back: Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth I'll use to carry thee out of this place.
What! am I dared and bearded to my face? Draw, men, for all this privileged place; Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard, I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly: Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat: In spite of pope or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.
Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a rope! Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay? Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array. Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite!
Here Gloucester's men beat out Bishop OF Winchester's men, and enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London and his Officers
Peace, mayor! thou know'st little of my wrongs: Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use.
Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens, One that still motions war and never peace, O'ercharging your free purses with large fines, That seeks to overthrow religion, Because he is protector of the realm, And would have armour here out of the Tower, To crown himself king and suppress the prince.
Here they skirmish again
Naught rests for me in this tumultuous strife But to make open proclamation: Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou canst, Cry.
All manner of men assembled here in arms this day against God's peace and the king's, we charge and command you, in his highness' name, to repair to your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain of death.
Gloucester, we will meet; to thy cost, be sure: Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work.
Exeunt, severally, Gloucester and Bishop OF Winchester with their Serving-men
See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart. Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear! I myself fight not once in forty year.