Henry the Fourth, Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king, Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came, And him to Pomfret; where, as all you know, Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously. Father, the duke hath told the truth: Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. Which now they hold by force and not by right; For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead, The issue of the next son should have reign'd. But William of Hatfield died without an heir. The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line I claimed the crown, had issue, Philippe, a daughter, Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March: Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March; Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne and Eleanor. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown; And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, Who kept him in captivity till he died. But to the rest. His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown Married Richard Earl of Cambridge; who was son To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir To Roger Earl of March, who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe, Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence: So, if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king. What plain proceeding is more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son; York claims it from the third. Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign: It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together; And in this private plot be we the first That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown. Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king! We thank you, lords. But I am not your king Till I be crown'd and that my sword be stain'd With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster; And that's not suddenly to be perform'd, But with advice and silent secrecy. Do you as I do in these dangerous days: Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence, At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, At Buckingham and all the crew of them, Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey: 'Tis that they seek, and they in seeking that Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. My lord, break we off;