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I wonder how the King escaped our hands.
While we pursued the horsemen of the north,
He slyly stole away and left his men;
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland,
55Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheered up the drooping army; and himself,
Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
Charged our main battle’s front and, breaking in,
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
1010Lord Stafford’s father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either slain or wounded dangerous.
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.
That this is true, father, behold his blood.
And, brother, here’s the Earl of Wiltshire’s blood,
1515Whom I encountered as the battles joined.
Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.
Richard hath best deserved of all my sons.
But is your Grace dead, my lord of Somerset?
Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt!
2020Thus do I hope to shake King Henry’s head.
And so do I, victorious prince of York.
Before I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
2525This is the palace of the fearful king,
And this the regal seat. Possess it, York,
For this is thine and not King Henry’s heirs’.
Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will,
For hither we have broken in by force.
3030We’ll all assist you. He that flies shall die.
Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords.—
And soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night.
And when the King comes, offer him no violence
Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.
3535The Queen this day here holds her parliament,
But little thinks we shall be of her council.
By words or blows, here let us win our right.
Armed as we are, let’s stay within this house.
shall this be called
4040Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king
And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice
Hath made us bywords to our enemies.
Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute.
I mean to take possession of my right.
4545Neither the King nor he that loves him best,
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells.
I’ll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares.
Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.
5050My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits,
Even in the chair of state! Belike he means,
Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer,
To aspire unto the crown and reign as king.
Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father,
5555And thine, Lord Clifford, and you both have vowed
revenge
On him, his sons, his favorites, and his friends.
If I be not, heavens be revenged on me!
The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.
6060What, shall we suffer this? Let’s pluck him down.
My heart for anger burns. I cannot brook it.
Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmorland.
Patience is for poltroons such as he.
He durst not sit there had your father lived.
6565My gracious lord, here in the Parliament
Let us assail the family of York.
Well hast thou spoken, cousin. Be it so.
Ah, know you not the city favors them,
And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?
7070But when the Duke is slain, they’ll quickly fly.
Far be the thought of this from Henry’s heart,
To make a shambles of the Parliament House!
Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats
Shall be the war that Henry means to use.—
7575Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne
And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet.
I am thy sovereign.
I am thine.
For shame, come down. He made thee Duke of
8080York.
It was my inheritance, as the earldom was.
Thy father was a traitor to the crown.
Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown
In following this usurping Henry.
8585Whom should he follow but his natural king?
True, Clifford, that’s Richard, Duke of York.
And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne?
It must and shall be so. Content thyself.
Be Duke of Lancaster. Let him be king.
9090He is both king and Duke of Lancaster,
And that the lord of Westmorland shall maintain.
And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget
That we are those which chased you from the field
And slew your fathers and, with colors spread,
9595Marched through the city to the palace gates.
Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief;
And by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,
Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I’ll have more lives
100100Than drops of blood were in my father’s veins.
Urge it no more, lest that, instead of words,
I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger
As shall revenge his death before I stir.
Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats!
105105Will you we show our title to the crown?
If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.
What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown?
Thy father was as thou art, Duke of York;
Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March.
110110I am the son of Henry the Fifth,
Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop
And seized upon their towns and provinces.
Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.
The Lord Protector lost it and not I.
115115When I was crowned, I was but nine months old.
You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you
lose.—
Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head.
Sweet father, do so. Set it on your head.
120120Good brother, as thou lov’st and honorest arms,
Let’s fight it out and not stand caviling thus.
Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly.
Sons, peace!
Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to speak!
125125Plantagenet shall speak first. Hear him, lords,
And be you silent and attentive too,
For he that interrupts him shall not live.
Think’st thou that I will leave my kingly throne,
Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?
130130No. First shall war unpeople this my realm;
Ay, and their colors, often borne in France,
And now in England to our heart’s great sorrow,
Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords?
My title’s good, and better far than his.
135135Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king.
Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.
’Twas by rebellion against his king.
I know not what to say; my title’s weak.—
Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?
140140What then?
An if he may, then am I lawful king;
For Richard, in the view of many lords,
Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth,
Whose heir my father was, and I am his.
145145He rose against him, being his sovereign,
And made him to resign his crown perforce.
Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrained,
Think you ’twere prejudicial to his crown?
No, for he could not so resign his crown
150150But that the next heir should succeed and reign.
Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?
His is the right, and therefore pardon me.
Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?
My conscience tells me he is lawful king.
155155All will revolt from me and turn to him.
Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay’st,
Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.
Deposed he shall be, in despite of all.
Thou art deceived. ’Tis not thy southern power
160160Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,
Can set the Duke up in despite of me.
King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defense.
165165May that ground gape and swallow me alive
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father.
O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!
Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.—
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
170170Do right unto this princely Duke of York,
Or I will fill the house with armèd men,
And over the chair of state, where now he sits,
Write up his title with usurping blood.
My lord of Warwick, hear but one word:
175175Let me for this my lifetime reign as king.
Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs,
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv’st.
I am content. Richard Plantagenet,
Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.
180180What wrong is this unto the Prince your son!
What good is this to England and himself!
Base, fearful, and despairing Henry!
How hast thou injured both thyself and us!
I cannot stay to hear these articles.
185185Nor I.
Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news.
Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king,
In whose cold blood no spark of honor bides.
Be thou a prey unto the house of York,
190190And die in bands for this unmanly deed.
In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,
Or live in peace abandoned and despised!
Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not.
They seek revenge and therefore will not yield.
195195Ah, Exeter!
Why should you sigh, my lord?
Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son,
Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
But be it as it may. (To York.) I here entail
200200The crown to thee and to thine heirs forever,
Conditionally, that here thou take an oath
To cease this civil war and, whilst I live,
To honor me as thy king and sovereign,
And neither by treason nor hostility
205205To seek to put me down and reign thyself.
This oath I willingly take and will perform.
Long live King Henry! Plantagenet, embrace him.
And long live thou and these thy forward sons!
Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.
210210Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes.
Farewell, my gracious lord. I’ll to my castle.
And I’ll keep London with my soldiers.
And I to Norfolk with my followers.
And I unto the sea, from whence I came.
215215And I with grief and sorrow to the court.
Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her
anger.
I’ll steal away.
Exeter, so will I.
They begin to exit.
220220Nay, go not from me. I will follow thee.
Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay.
Who can be patient in such extremes?
Ah, wretched man, would I had died a maid
And never seen thee, never borne thee son,
225225Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father.
Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus?
Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I,
Or felt that pain which I did for him once,
Or nourished him as I did with my blood,
230230Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood
there,
Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir
And disinherited thine only son.
Father, you cannot disinherit me.
235235If you be king, why should not I succeed?
Pardon me, Margaret.—Pardon me, sweet son.
The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.
Enforced thee? Art thou king and wilt be forced?
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch,
240240Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me,
And giv’n unto the house of York such head
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance!
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
What is it but to make thy sepulcher
245245And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Callice;
Stern Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas;
The Duke is made Protector of the realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds
250250The trembling lamb environèd with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honor.
255255And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of Parliament be repealed
Whereby my son is disinherited.
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colors
260260Will follow mine if once they see them spread;
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace
And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee.—Come, son, let’s away.
Our army is ready. Come, we’ll after them.
265265Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone.
Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
Ay, to be murdered by his enemies!
When I return with victory from the field,
270270I’ll see your Grace. Till then, I’ll follow her.
Come, son, away. We may not linger thus.
Poor queen! How love to me and to her son
Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
Revenged may she be on that hateful duke,
275275Whose haughty spirit, wingèd with desire,
Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son.
The loss of those three lords torments my heart.
I’ll write unto them and entreat them fair.
280280Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.
No, I can better play the orator.
But I have reasons strong and forcible.
285Why, how now, sons and brother, at a strife?
5What is your quarrel? How began it first?
No quarrel, but a slight contention.
About what?
About that which concerns your Grace and us:
290The crown of England, father, which is yours.
10Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead.
Your right depends not on his life or death.
Now you are heir; therefore enjoy it now.
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe,
295It will outrun you, father, in the end.
15I took an oath that he should quietly reign.
But for a kingdom any oath may be broken.
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
No, God forbid your Grace should be forsworn.
300I shall be, if I claim by open war.
20I’ll prove the contrary, if you’ll hear me speak.
Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.
An oath is of no moment, being not took
Before a true and lawful magistrate
305That hath authority over him that swears.
25Henry had none, but did usurp the place.
Then, seeing ’twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think
310How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
30Within whose circuit is Elysium
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest
Until the white rose that I wear be dyed
315Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry’s heart.
35Richard, enough. I will be king or die.—
Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.—
Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk
320And tell him privily of our intent.—
40You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise;
In them I trust, for they are soldiers
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
325While you are thus employed, what resteth more
45But that I seek occasion how to rise,
And yet the King not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster.
Enter a Messenger.
But stay, what news? Why com’st thou in such post?
330The Queen with all the northern earls and lords
50Intend here to besiege you in your castle.
She is hard by with twenty thousand men.
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
Ay, with my sword. What, think’st thou that we fear
335them?—
55Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
My brother Montague shall post to London.
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we have left Protectors of the King,
340With powerful policy strengthen themselves
60And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
Brother, I go. I’ll win them, fear it not.
And thus most humbly I do take my leave.
Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
345You are come to Sandal in a happy hour.
65The army of the Queen mean to besiege us.
She shall not need; we’ll meet her in the field.
What, with five thousand men?
Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need.
350A woman’s general; what should we fear?
70I hear their drums. Let’s set our men in order,
And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
Five men to twenty: though the odds be great,
I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
355Many a battle have I won in France
75Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one.
Why should I not now have the like success?
Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands?
Enter Clifford with Soldiers, all wearing the red rose.
Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes.
360Chaplain, away. Thy priesthood saves thy life.
As for the brat of this accursèd duke,
5Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
And I, my lord, will bear him company.
Soldiers, away with him.
365Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
10How now? Is he dead already? Or is it fear
That makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them.
So looks the pent-up lion o’er the wretch
370That trembles under his devouring paws;
And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey;
15And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword
And not with such a cruel threat’ning look.
375Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath.
20Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
In vain thou speak’st, poor boy. My father’s blood
Hath stopped the passage where thy words should
380enter.
Then let my father’s blood open it again;
25He is a man and, Clifford, cope with him.
Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge sufficient for me.
385No, if I digged up thy forefathers’ graves
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
30It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul,
390And till I root out their accursèd line
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
35Therefore—
O, let me pray before I take my death!
To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me!
395Such pity as my rapier’s point affords.
I never did thee harm. Why wilt thou slay me?
40Thy father hath.
But ’twas ere I was born.
Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me,
400Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
He be as miserably slain as I.
45Ah, let me live in prison all my days,
And when I give occasion of offense
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
405No cause? Thy father slew my father; therefore die.
Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae!
50Plantagenet, I come, Plantagenet!
And this thy son’s blood, cleaving to my blade,
Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood,
410Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both.
The army of the Queen hath got the field.
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back and fly like ships before the wind,
5415Or lambs pursued by hunger-starvèd wolves.
My sons, God knows what hath bechancèd them;
But this I know: they have demeaned themselves
Like men borne to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me
10420And thrice cried “Courage, father, fight it out!”
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encountered him;
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
15425Richard cried “Charge, and give no foot of ground!”
And cried “A crown or else a glorious tomb;
A scepter or an earthly sepulcher!”
With this we charged again; but, out alas,
We budged again, as I have seen a swan
20430With bootless labor swim against the tide
And spend her strength with over-matching waves.
A short alarum within.
Ah, hark, the fatal followers do pursue,
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury;
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury.
25435The sands are numbered that makes up my life.
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland,
the young Prince Edward, and Soldiers,
all wearing the red rose.
Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage.
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
30440Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm
With downright payment showed unto my father.
Now Phaëton hath tumbled from his car
And made an evening at the noontide prick.
35445My ashes, as the Phoenix’, may bring forth
A bird that will revenge upon you all;
And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,
Scorning whate’er you can afflict me with.
Why come you not? What, multitudes, and fear?
40450So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
So doves do peck the falcon’s piercing talons;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives ’gainst the officers.
O Clifford, but bethink thee once again
45455And in thy thought o’errun my former time;
And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face
And bite thy tongue that slanders him with cowardice
Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this.
I will not bandy with thee word for word,
50460But buckler with thee blows twice two for one.
Hold, valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes
I would prolong a while the traitor’s life.—
Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland.
Hold, Clifford, do not honor him so much
55465To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart.
What valor were it when a cur doth grin
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn him with his foot away?
It is war’s prize to take all vantages,
60470And ten to one is no impeach of valor.
Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
So doth the coney struggle in the net.
So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty;
So true men yield with robbers, so o’ermatched.
65475What would your Grace have done unto him now?
Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here
That raught at mountains with outstretchèd arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
They place York on a small prominence.
70480What, was it you that would be England’s king?
Was ’t you that reveled in our parliament
And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now,
The wanton Edward and the lusty George?
75485And where’s that valiant crookback prodigy,
Dickie, your boy, that with his grumbling voice
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York, I stained this napkin with the blood
80490That valiant Clifford with his rapier’s point
Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
She gives him a bloody cloth.
Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly
85495I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee grieve to make me merry, York.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails
That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death?
Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad;
90500And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
Thou would’st be fee’d, I see, to make me sport.—
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown.
A crown for York!She is handed a paper crown.
95505And, lords, bow low to him.
Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on.
She puts the crown on York’s head.
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king.
Ay, this is he that took King Henry’s chair,
And this is he was his adopted heir.
100510But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath?—
As I bethink me, you should not be king
Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.
And will you pale your head in Henry’s glory
105515And rob his temples of the diadem
Now, in his life, against your holy oath?
O, ’tis a fault too too unpardonable.
Off with the crown and, with the crown, his head;
And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.
110520That is my office, for my father’s sake.
Nay, stay, let’s hear the orisons he makes.
She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of
France,
Whose tongue more poisons than the adder’s tooth:
115525How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex
To triumph like an Amazonian trull
Upon their woes whom Fortune captivates.
But that thy face is vizard-like, unchanging,
Made impudent with use of evil deeds,
120530I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.
To tell thee whence thou cam’st, of whom derived,
Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not
shameless.
Thy father bears the type of King of Naples,
125535Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem,
Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?
It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen,
Unless the adage must be verified
130540That beggars mounted run their horse to death.
’Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud,
But God He knows thy share thereof is small.
’Tis virtue that doth make them most admired;
The contrary doth make thee wondered at.
135545’Tis government that makes them seem divine;
The want thereof makes thee abominable.
Thou art as opposite to every good
As the Antipodes are unto us
Or as the south to the Septentrion.
140550O, tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide,
How couldst thou drain the lifeblood of the child
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman’s face?
Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible;
145555Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
Bidd’st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish.
Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will;
For raging wind blows up incessant showers,
And when the rage allays, the rain begins.
150560These tears are my sweet Rutland’s obsequies,
And every drop cries vengeance for his death
’Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false
Frenchwoman!
Beshrew me, but his passions moves me so
155565That hardly can I check my eyes from tears.
That face of his the hungry cannibals
Would not have touched, would not have stained
with blood;
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,
160570O, ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania.
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father’s tears.
This cloth thou dipped’st in blood of my sweet boy,
And I with tears do wash the blood away.
He hands her the cloth.
Keep thou the napkin and go boast of this;
165575And if thou tell’st the heavy story right,
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears.
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears
And say “Alas, it was a piteous deed.”
He hands her the paper crown.
There, take the crown and, with the crown, my
170580curse,
And in thy need such comfort come to thee
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand.—
Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world,
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads.
175585Had he been slaughterman to all my kin,
I should not for my life but weep with him
To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.
What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
180590And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.
Here’s for my oath; here’s for my father’s death!
And here’s to right our gentle-hearted king.
Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God.
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee.
185595Off with his head, and set it on York gates,
So York may overlook the town of York.
I wonder how our princely father scaped,
Or whether he be scaped away or no
From Clifford’s and Northumberland’s pursuit.
600Had he been ta’en, we should have heard the news;
5Had he been slain, we should have heard the news;
Or had he scaped, methinks we should have heard
The happy tidings of his good escape.
How fares my brother? Why is he so sad?
605I cannot joy until I be resolved
10Where our right valiant father is become.
I saw him in the battle range about
And watched him how he singled Clifford forth.
Methought he bore him in the thickest troop
610As doth a lion in a herd of neat,
15Or as a bear encompassed round with dogs,
Who having pinched a few and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof and bark at him;
So fared our father with his enemies;
615So fled his enemies my warlike father.
20Methinks ’tis prize enough to be his son.
See how the morning opes her golden gates
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun.
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
620Trimmed like a younker, prancing to his love!
25Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?
Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun,
Not separated with the racking clouds
But severed in a pale clear-shining sky.
625See, see, they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
30As if they vowed some league inviolable.
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun;
In this, the heaven figures some event.
’Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of.
630I think it cites us, brother, to the field,
35That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
Each one already blazing by our meeds,
Should notwithstanding join our lights together
And overshine the earth, as this the world.
635Whate’er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
40Upon my target three fair shining suns.
Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it,
You love the breeder better than the male.
Enter a Messenger, blowing.
But what art thou whose heavy looks foretell
640Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
45Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on
Whenas the noble Duke of York was slain,
Your princely father and my loving lord.
O, speak no more, for I have heard too much!
645Say how he died, for I will hear it all.
50Environèd he was with many foes,
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy
Against the Greeks that would have entered Troy.
But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
650And many strokes, though with a little axe,
55Hews down and fells the hardest-timbered oak.
By many hands your father was subdued,
But only slaughtered by the ireful arm
Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen,
655Who crowned the gracious duke in high despite,
60Laughed in his face; and when with grief he wept,
The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks
A napkin steepèd in the harmless blood
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain.
660And after many scorns, many foul taunts,
65They took his head and on the gates of York
They set the same, and there it doth remain,
The saddest spectacle that e’er I viewed.
Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon,
665Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.
70O Clifford, boist’rous Clifford, thou hast slain
The flower of Europe for his chivalry;
And treacherously hast thou vanquished him,
For hand to hand he would have vanquished thee.
670Now my soul’s palace is become a prison;
75Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body
Might in the ground be closèd up in rest,
For never henceforth shall I joy again.
Never, O never, shall I see more joy!
675I cannot weep, for all my body’s moisture
80Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart;
Nor can my tongue unload my heart’s great burden,
For selfsame wind that I should speak withal
Is kindling coals that fires all my breast
680And burns me up with flames that tears would
85quench.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief:
Tears, then, for babes; blows and revenge for me.
Richard, I bear thy name. I’ll venge thy death
685Or die renownèd by attempting it.
90His name that valiant duke hath left with thee;
His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird,
Show thy descent by gazing ’gainst the sun;
690For “chair” and “dukedom,” “throne” and
95“kingdom” say;
Either that is thine or else thou wert not his.
How now, fair lords? What fare, what news abroad?
Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount
695Our baleful news, and at each word’s deliverance
100Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,
The words would add more anguish than the wounds.
O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain.
O Warwick, Warwick, that Plantagenet
700Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption
105Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
Ten days ago I drowned these news in tears.
And now to add more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things sith then befall’n.
705After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
110Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp,
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
Were brought me of your loss and his depart.
I, then in London, keeper of the King,
710Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends,
115Marched toward Saint Albans to intercept the
Queen,
Bearing the King in my behalf along;
For by my scouts I was advertisèd
715That she was coming with a full intent
120To dash our late decree in Parliament
Touching King Henry’s oath and your succession.
Short tale to make, we at Saint Albans met,
Our battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought.
720But whether ’twas the coldness of the King,
125Who looked full gently on his warlike queen,
That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen,
Or whether ’twas report of her success
Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigor,
725Who thunders to his captives blood and death,
130I cannot judge; but to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
Our soldiers’, like the night owl’s lazy flight
Or like an idle thresher with a flail,
730Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
135I cheered them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay and great rewards,
But all in vain; they had no heart to fight,
And we, in them, no hope to win the day,
735So that we fled: the King unto the Queen;
140Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself
In haste, posthaste, are come to join with you;
For in the Marches here we heard you were,
Making another head to fight again.
740Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick?
145And when came George from Burgundy to England?
Some six miles off the Duke is with the soldiers,
And, for your brother, he was lately sent
From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy,
745With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
150’Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled.
Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne’er till now his scandal of retire.
Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear?
750For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine
155Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head
And wring the awful scepter from his fist,
Were he as famous and as bold in war
As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
755I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not.
160’Tis love I bear thy glories make me speak.
But in this troublous time, what’s to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
760Numb’ring our Ave Marys with our beads?
165Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?
If for the last, say “Ay,” and to it, lords.
Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out,
765And therefore comes my brother Montague.
170Attend me, lords: the proud insulting queen,
With Clifford and the haught Northumberland
And of their feather many more proud birds,
Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax.
770He swore consent to your succession,
175His oath enrollèd in the Parliament.
And now to London all the crew are gone
To frustrate both his oath and what beside
May make against the house of Lancaster.
775Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong.
180Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself,
With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March,
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,
Will but amount to five and twenty thousand,
780Why, via, to London will we march,
185And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
And once again cry “Charge!” upon our foes,
But never once again turn back and fly.
Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak.
785Ne’er may he live to see a sunshine day
190That cries “Retire!” if Warwick bid him stay.
Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean,
And when thou fail’st—as God forbid the hour!—
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend.
790No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York;
195The next degree is England’s royal throne:
For King of England shalt thou be proclaimed
In every borough as we pass along,
And he that throws not up his cap for joy
795Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
200King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague,
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,
But sound the trumpets and about our task.
Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel,
800As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,
205I come to pierce it or to give thee mine.
Then strike up drums! God and Saint George for us!
How now, what news?
The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me,
805The Queen is coming with a puissant host,
210And craves your company for speedy counsel.
Why, then it sorts. Brave warriors, let’s away!
Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York.
Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy
810That sought to be encompassed with your crown.
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?
5Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wrack!
To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
Withhold revenge, dear God! ’Tis not my fault,
815Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
My gracious liege, this too much lenity
10And harmful pity must be laid aside.
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
820Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?
Not his that spoils her young before her face.
15Who scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting?
Not he that sets his foot upon her back.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on,
825And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
20Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows.
He, but a duke, would have his son a king
And raise his issue like a loving sire;
830Thou being a king, blest with a goodly son,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
25Which argued thee a most unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young;
And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes,
835Yet in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them, even with those wings
30Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,
Make war with him that climbed unto their nest,
Offering their own lives in their young’s defense?
840For shame, my liege, make them your precedent.
Were it not pity that this goodly boy
35Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault,
And long hereafter say unto his child
“What my great-grandfather and grandsire got,
845My careless father fondly gave away”?
Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy,
40And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart
To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.
850Full well hath Clifford played the orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force.
45But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear
That things ill got had ever bad success?
And happy always was it for that son
855Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?
I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind,
50And would my father had left me no more;
For all the rest is held at such a rate
As brings a thousandfold more care to keep
860Than in possession any jot of pleasure.
Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know
55How it doth grieve me that thy head is here.
My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh,
And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
865You promised knighthood to our forward son.
Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently.—
60Edward, kneel down.
Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight,
And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right.
870My gracious father, by your kingly leave,
I’ll draw it as apparent to the crown
65And in that quarrel use it to the death.
Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
Royal commanders, be in readiness,
875For with a band of thirty thousand men
Comes Warwick backing of the Duke of York,
70And in the towns as they do march along
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him.
Deraign your battle, for they are at hand.
880I would your Highness would depart the field.
The Queen hath best success when you are absent.
75Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.
Why, that’s my fortune too; therefore I’ll stay.
Be it with resolution, then, to fight.
885My royal father, cheer these noble lords
And hearten those that fight in your defense.
80Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry “Saint
George!”
Now, perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace
890And set thy diadem upon my head,
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
85Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy.
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
895I am his king, and he should bow his knee.
I was adopted heir by his consent.
90Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear,
You that are king, though he do wear the crown,
Have caused him, by new act of Parliament,
900To blot out me and put his own son in.
And reason too:
95Who should succeed the father but the son?
Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!
Ay, crookback, here I stand to answer thee,
905Or any he, the proudest of thy sort.
’Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not?
100Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
For God’s sake, lords, give signal to the fight!
What sayst thou, Henry? Wilt thou yield the crown?
910Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick, dare you
speak?
105When you and I met at Saint Albans last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.
Then ’twas my turn to fly, and now ’tis thine.
915You said so much before, and yet you fled.
’Twas not your valor, Clifford, drove me thence.
110No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.
Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.—
Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain
920The execution of my big-swoll’n heart
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
115I slew thy father; call’st thou him a child?
Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward,
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland.
925But ere sunset I’ll make thee curse the deed.
Have done with words, my lords, and hear me
120speak.
Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.
I prithee, give no limits to my tongue.
930I am a king and privileged to speak.
My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here
125Cannot be cured by words; therefore, be still.
Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword.
By Him that made us all, I am resolved
935That Clifford’s manhood lies upon his tongue.
Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no?
130A thousand men have broke their fasts today
That ne’er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.
If thou deny, their blood upon thy head,
940For York in justice puts his armor on.
If that be right which Warwick says is right,
135There is no wrong, but everything is right.
Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands,
For well I wot thou hast thy mother’s tongue.
945But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam,
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,
140Marked by the Destinies to be avoided,
As venom toads or lizards’ dreadful stings.
Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,
950Whose father bears the title of a king,
As if a channel should be called the sea,
145Sham’st thou not, knowing whence thou art
extraught,
To let thy tongue detect thy baseborn heart?
955A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns
To make this shameless callet know herself.—
150Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,
Although thy husband may be Menelaus;
And ne’er was Agamemnon’s brother wronged
960By that false woman as this king by thee.
His father reveled in the heart of France,
155And tamed the King, and made the Dauphin stoop;
And had he matched according to his state,
He might have kept that glory to this day.
965But when he took a beggar to his bed
And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day,
160Even then that sunshine brewed a shower for him
That washed his father’s fortunes forth of France
And heaped sedition on his crown at home.
970For what hath broached this tumult but thy pride?
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept,
165And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipped our claim until another age.
But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring,
975And that thy summer bred us no increase,
We set the axe to thy usurping root;
170And though the edge hath something hit ourselves,
Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We’ll never leave till we have hewn thee down
980Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.
And in this resolution, I defy thee,
175Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou denied’st the gentle king to speak.—
Sound, trumpets! Let our bloody colors wave;
985And either victory or else a grave!
Stay, Edward!
180No, wrangling woman, we’ll no longer stay.
These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,
990I lay me down a little while to breathe,
For strokes received and many blows repaid
Have robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength;
5And spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.
Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death,
995For this world frowns and Edward’s sun is clouded.
How now, my lord, what hap? What hope of good?
Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair;
10Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us.
What counsel give you? Whither shall we fly?
1000Bootless is flight; they follow us with wings,
And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.
Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?
15Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
Broached with the steely point of Clifford’s lance,
1005And in the very pangs of death he cried,
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,
“Warwick, revenge! Brother, revenge my death!”
20So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stained their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
1010The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.
Then let the earth be drunken with our blood!
I’ll kill my horse because I will not fly.
25Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
Wailing our losses whiles the foe doth rage,
1015And look upon, as if the tragedy
Were played in jest by counterfeiting actors?
He kneels.
Here on my knee I vow to God above
30I’ll never pause again, never stand still,
Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine
1020Or Fortune given me measure of revenge.
O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine,
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine
He kneels.
35And, ere my knee rise from the Earth’s cold face,
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee,
1025Thou setter up and plucker down of kings,
Beseeching Thee, if with Thy will it stands
That to my foes this body must be prey,
40Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul.
Edward and Warwick stand.
1030Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Where’er it be, in heaven or in Earth.
Brother, give me thy hand.—And, gentle Warwick,
45Let me embrace thee in my weary arms.
I that did never weep now melt with woe
1035That winter should cut off our springtime so.
Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell.
Yet let us all together to our troops
50And give them leave to fly that will not stay,
And call them pillars that will stand to us;
1040And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards
As victors wear at the Olympian Games.
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,
55For yet is hope of life and victory.
Forslow no longer; make we hence amain.
1045Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone.
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York,
And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge,
Wert thou environed with a brazen wall.
5Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone.
1050This is the hand that stabbed thy father York,
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland,
And here’s the heart that triumphs in their death
And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother
10To execute the like upon thyself.
1055And so, have at thee!
Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase,
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.
This battle fares like to the morning’s war,
When dying clouds contend with growing light,
1060What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
5Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
Forced by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
1065Forced to retire by fury of the wind.
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind;
10Now one the better, then another best,
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror nor conquerèd.
1070So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
He sits on a small prominence.
15To whom God will, there be the victory;
For Margaret my queen and Clifford too
Have chid me from the battle, swearing both
1075They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead, if God’s good will were so,
20For what is in this world but grief and woe?
O God! Methinks it were a happy life
To be no better than a homely swain,
1080To sit upon a hill as I do now,
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
25Thereby to see the minutes how they run:
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about the day,
1085How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.
30When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
1090So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport myself,
35So many days my ewes have been with young,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece;
1095So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
Passed over to the end they were created,
40Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! How sweet, how lovely!
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
1100To shepherds looking on their silly sheep
Than doth a rich embroidered canopy
45To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery?
O yes, it doth, a thousandfold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd’s homely curds,
1105His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree’s shade,
50All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince’s delicates—
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
1110His body couchèd in a curious bed—
When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.
55Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
May be possessèd with some store of crowns,
1115And I, that haply take them from him now,
May yet ere night yield both my life and them
60To some man else, as this dead man doth me.
Who’s this? O God! It is my father’s face,
Whom in this conflict I unwares have killed.
1120O heavy times, begetting such events!
From London by the King was I pressed forth.
65My father, being the Earl of Warwick’s man,
Came on the part of York, pressed by his master.
And I, who at his hands received my life,
1125Have by my hands of life bereavèd him.
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did;
70And pardon, father, for I knew not thee.
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks,
And no more words till they have flowed their fill.
1130O piteous spectacle! O bloody times!
Whiles lions war and battle for their dens,
75Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.
Weep, wretched man. I’ll aid thee tear for tear,
And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,
1135Be blind with tears and break, o’ercharged with grief.
Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me,
80Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold,
For I have bought it with an hundred blows.
But let me see: is this our foeman’s face?
1140Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!
Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,
85Throw up thine eye! See, see, what showers arise,
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart
Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart!
1145O, pity God this miserable age!
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
90Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!
O, boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,
1150And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!
Woe above woe, grief more than common grief!
95O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!
O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
The red rose and the white are on his face,
1155The fatal colors of our striving houses;
The one his purple blood right well resembles,
100The other his pale cheeks methinks presenteth.
Wither one rose and let the other flourish;
If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
1160How will my mother for a father’s death
Take on with me and ne’er be satisfied!
105How will my wife for slaughter of my son
Shed seas of tears and ne’er be satisfied!
How will the country for these woeful chances
1165Misthink the King and not be satisfied!
Was ever son so rued a father’s death?
110Was ever father so bemoaned his son?
Was ever king so grieved for subjects’ woe?
Much is your sorrow, mine ten times so much.
1170I’ll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.
These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;
115My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulcher,
For from my heart thine image ne’er shall go.
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
1175And so obsequious will thy father be
E’en for the loss of thee, having no more,
120As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
I’ll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will,
For I have murdered where I should not kill.
1180Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care,
Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
125Fly, father, fly, for all your friends are fled,
And Warwick rages like a chafèd bull.
Away, for Death doth hold us in pursuit.
1185Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain.
Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
130Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath
And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands,
1190Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain.
Away, for Vengeance comes along with them.
135Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;
Or else come after; I’ll away before.
Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter;
1195Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away!
Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies,
Which whiles it lasted gave King Henry light.
O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow
1200More than my body’s parting with my soul!
5My love and fear glued many friends to thee;
And now I fall, thy tough commixtures melts,
Impairing Henry, strength’ning misproud York;
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?
1205And who shines now but Henry’s enemies?
10O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent
That Phaëton should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorched the Earth!
And Henry, hadst thou swayed as kings should do,
1210Or as thy father and his father did,
15Giving no ground unto the house of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies;
I and ten thousand in this luckless realm
Had left no mourning widows for our death,
1215And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
20For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity?
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds;
No way to fly, no strength to hold out flight.
1220The foe is merciless and will not pity,
25For at their hands I have deserved no pity.
The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint.
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest.
1225I stabbed your fathers’ bosoms; split my breast.
30Now breathe we, lords. Good fortune bids us pause
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen
That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
1230As doth a sail filled with a fretting gust
35Command an argosy to stem the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
No, ’tis impossible he should escape,
For, though before his face I speak the words,
1235Your brother Richard marked him for the grave,
40And wheresoe’er he is, he’s surely dead.
Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?
A deadly groan, like life and death’s departing.
See who it is; and, now the battle’s ended,
1240If friend or foe, let him be gently used.
45Revoke that doom of mercy, for ’tis Clifford,
Who not contented that he lopped the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his murd’ring knife unto the root
1245From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,
50I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
From off the gates of York fetch down the head,
Your father’s head, which Clifford placèd there;
Instead whereof let this supply the room.
1250Measure for measure must be answerèd.
55Bring forth that fatal screech owl to our house
That nothing sung but death to us and ours;
Now death shall stop his dismal threat’ning sound,
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
1255I think his understanding is bereft.—
60Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to
thee?—
Dark cloudy death o’ershades his beams of life,
And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.
1260O, would he did—and so, perhaps, he doth!
65’Tis but his policy to counterfeit,
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
Which in the time of death he gave our father.
If so thou think’st, vex him with eager words.
1265Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.
70Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
1270Thou pitied’st Rutland; I will pity thee.
75Where’s Captain Margaret to fence you now?
They mock thee, Clifford; swear as thou wast wont.
What, not an oath? Nay, then, the world goes hard
When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath.
1275I know by that he’s dead; and, by my soul,
80If this right hand would buy but two hours’ life
That I in all despite might rail at him,
This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing
blood
1280Stifle the villain whose unstaunchèd thirst
85York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
Ay, but he’s dead. Off with the traitor’s head,
And rear it in the place your father’s stands.
And now to London with triumphant march,
1285There to be crownèd England’s royal king,
90From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France
And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen;
So shalt thou sinew both these lands together,
And having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
1290The scattered foe that hopes to rise again;
95For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears.
First will I see the coronation,
And then to Brittany I’ll cross the sea
1295To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
100Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be;
For in thy shoulder do I build my seat,
And never will I undertake the thing
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.—
1300Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,
105And George, of Clarence. Warwick as ourself
Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.
Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester,
For Gloucester’s dukedom is too ominous.
1305Tut, that’s a foolish observation.
110Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London,
To see these honors in possession.
Under this thick-grown brake we’ll shroud ourselves,
For through this laund anon the deer will come;
1310And in this covert will we make our stand,
Culling the principal of all the deer.
5I’ll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.
That cannot be. The noise of thy crossbow
Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost.
1315Here stand we both, and aim we at the best.
And for the time shall not seem tedious,
10I’ll tell thee what befell me on a day
In this self place where now we mean to stand.
Here comes a man; let’s stay till he be past.
1320From Scotland am I stol’n, even of pure love,
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
15No, Harry, Harry, ’tis no land of thine!
Thy place is filled, thy scepter wrung from thee,
Thy balm washed off wherewith thou wast anointed.
1325No bending knee will call thee Caesar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right,
20No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
For how can I help them an not myself?
Ay, here’s a deer whose skin’s a keeper’s fee.
1330This is the quondam king. Let’s seize upon him.
Let me embrace the sour adversaries,
25For wise men say it is the wisest course.
Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him.
Forbear awhile; we’ll hear a little more.
1335My queen and son are gone to France for aid,
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
30Is thither gone to crave the French king’s sister
To wife for Edward. If this news be true,
Poor queen and son, your labor is but lost,
1340For Warwick is a subtle orator,
And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words.
35By this account, then, Margaret may win him,
For she’s a woman to be pitied much.
Her sighs will make a batt’ry in his breast,
1345Her tears will pierce into a marble heart.
The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn,
40And Nero will be tainted with remorse
To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears.
Ay, but she’s come to beg, Warwick to give;
1350She on his left side craving aid for Henry;
He on his right asking a wife for Edward.
45She weeps and says her Henry is deposed;
He smiles and says his Edward is installed;
That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more,
1355Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
50And in conclusion wins the King from her
With promise of his sister and what else
To strengthen and support King Edward’s place.
1360O Margaret, thus ’twill be, and thou, poor soul,
Art then forsaken, as thou went’st forlorn.
55Say, what art thou that talk’st of kings and queens?
More than I seem, and less than I was born to:
A man at least, for less I should not be;
1365And men may talk of kings, and why not I?
Ay, but thou talk’st as if thou wert a king.
60Why, so I am in mind, and that’s enough.
But if thou be a king, where is thy crown?
My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
1370Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen. My crown is called content;
65A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
Well, if you be a king crowned with content,
Your crown content and you must be contented
1375To go along with us. For, as we think,
You are the king King Edward hath deposed;
70And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance
Will apprehend you as his enemy.
But did you never swear and break an oath?
1380No, never such an oath, nor will not now.
Where did you dwell when I was King of England?
75Here in this country, where we now remain.
I was anointed king at nine months old.
My father and my grandfather were kings,
1385And you were sworn true subjects unto me.
And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths?
80No, for we were subjects but while you were king.
Why, am I dead? Do I not breathe a man?
Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear.
1390Look as I blow this feather from my face
And as the air blows it to me again,
85Obeying with my wind when I do blow
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust,
1395Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oaths, for of that sin
90My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the King shall be commanded,
And be you kings: command, and I’ll obey.
1400We are true subjects to the King, King Edward.
So would you be again to Henry
95If he were seated as King Edward is.
We charge you in God’s name and the King’s
To go with us unto the officers.
1405In God’s name, lead. Your king’s name be obeyed,
And what God will, that let your king perform.
100And what he will, I humbly yield unto.
Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Albans field
This lady’s husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain,
1410His land then seized on by the conqueror.
Her suit is now to repossess those lands,
5Which we in justice cannot well deny,
Because in quarrel of the house of York
The worthy gentleman did lose his life.
1415Your Highness shall do well to grant her suit;
It were dishonor to deny it her.
10It were no less, but yet I’ll make a pause.
Yea, is it so?
I see the lady hath a thing to grant
1420Before the King will grant her humble suit.
He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind!
15Silence!
Widow, we will consider of your suit,
And come some other time to know our mind.
1425Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay.
May it please your Highness to resolve me now,
20And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me.
Ay, widow? Then I’ll warrant you all your lands,
An if what pleases him shall pleasure you.
1430Fight closer, or, good faith, you’ll catch a blow.
I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.
25God forbid that, for he’ll take vantages.
How many children hast thou, widow? Tell me.
I think he means to beg a child of her.
1435Nay, then, whip me; he’ll rather give her two.
Three, my most gracious lord.
30You shall have four if you’ll be ruled by him.
’Twere pity they should lose their father’s lands.
Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.
1440Lords, give us leave. I’ll try this widow’s wit.
Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave
35Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch.
Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
1445And would you not do much to do them good?
To do them good I would sustain some harm.
40Then get your husband’s lands to do them good.
Therefore I came unto your Majesty.
I’ll tell you how these lands are to be got.
1450So shall you bind me to your Highness’ service.
What service wilt thou do me if I give them?
45What you command that rests in me to do.
But you will take exceptions to my boon.
No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
1455Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
Why, then, I will do what your Grace commands.
50He plies her hard, and much rain wears the marble.
As red as fire! Nay, then, her wax must melt.
Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task?
1460An easy task; ’tis but to love a king.
That’s soon performed because I am a subject.
55Why, then, thy husband’s lands I freely give thee.
I take my leave with many thousand thanks.
The match is made; she seals it with a cursy.
1465But stay thee; ’tis the fruits of love I mean.
The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
60Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
What love, think’st thou, I sue so much to get?
My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,
1470That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.
65Why, then, you mean not as I thought you did.
But now you partly may perceive my mind.
My mind will never grant what I perceive
1475Your Highness aims at, if I aim aright.
To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
70To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.
Why, then, thou shalt not have thy husband’s lands.
Why, then, mine honesty shall be my dower,
1480For by that loss I will not purchase them.
Therein thou wrong’st thy children mightily.
75Herein your Highness wrongs both them and me.
But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness of my suit.
1485Please you dismiss me either with ay or no.
Ay, if thou wilt say “ay” to my request;
80No, if thou dost say “no” to my demand.
Then no, my lord; my suit is at an end.
The widow likes him not; she knits her brows.
1490He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.
Her looks doth argue her replete with modesty;
85Her words doth show her wit incomparable;
All her perfections challenge sovereignty.
One way or other, she is for a king,
1495And she shall be my love or else my queen.—
Say that King Edward take thee for his queen?
90’Tis better said than done, my gracious lord.
I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a sovereign.
1500Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee
I speak no more than what my soul intends,
95And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.
And that is more than I will yield unto.
I know I am too mean to be your queen
1505And yet too good to be your concubine.
You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen.
100’Twill grieve your Grace my sons should call you
father.
No more than when my daughters call thee mother.
1510Thou art a widow and thou hast some children,
And, by God’s mother, I, being but a bachelor,
105Have other some. Why, ’tis a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
1515The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
When he was made a shriver, ’twas for shift.
110Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.
The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.
You’d think it strange if I should marry her.
1520To who, my lord?
Why, Clarence, to myself.
115That would be ten days’ wonder at the least.
That’s a day longer than a wonder lasts.
By so much is the wonder in extremes.
1525Well, jest on, brothers. I can tell you both
Her suit is granted for her husband’s lands.
120My gracious lord, Henry, your foe, is taken
And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.
See that he be conveyed unto the Tower.
Nobleman exits.
1530And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To question of his apprehension.—
125Widow, go you along.—Lords, use her honorably.
Ay, Edward will use women honorably!
Would he were wasted—marrow, bones, and all—
1535That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring
To cross me from the golden time I look for.
130And yet, between my soul’s desire and me,
The lustful Edward’s title burièd,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son, young Edward,
1540And all the unlooked-for issue of their bodies
To take their rooms ere I can place myself.
135A cold premeditation for my purpose.
Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty
Like one that stands upon a promontory
1545And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
140And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,
Saying he’ll lade it dry to have his way.
So do I wish the crown, being so far off,
1550And so I chide the means that keeps me from it,
And so, I say, I’ll cut the causes off,
145Flattering me with impossibilities.
My eye’s too quick, my heart o’erweens too much,
Unless my hand and strength could equal them.
1555Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard,
What other pleasure can the world afford?
150I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap
And deck my body in gay ornaments,
And ’witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.
1560O miserable thought, and more unlikely
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
155Why, Love forswore me in my mother’s womb,
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
She did corrupt frail Nature with some bribe
1565To shrink mine arm up like a withered shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
160Where sits Deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,
1570Like to a chaos, or an unlicked bear-whelp,
That carries no impression like the dam.
165And am I then a man to be beloved?
O monstrous fault to harbor such a thought!
Then, since this Earth affords no joy to me
1575But to command, to check, to o’erbear such
As are of better person than myself,
170I’ll make my heaven to dream upon the crown,
And, whiles I live, t’ account this world but hell
Until my misshaped trunk that bears this head
1580Be round impalèd with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
175For many lives stand between me and home;
And I, like one lost in a thorny wood,
That rents the thorns and is rent with the thorns,
1585Seeking a way and straying from the way,
Not knowing how to find the open air,
180But toiling desperately to find it out,
Torment myself to catch the English crown.
And from that torment I will free myself
1590Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile,
185And cry “Content” to that which grieves my heart,
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occasions.
1595I’ll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
I’ll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
190I’ll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
1600I can add colors to the chameleon,
Change shapes with Proteus for advantages,
195And set the murderous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this and cannot get a crown?
Tut, were it farther off, I’ll pluck it down.
1605Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret,
Sit down with us. It ill befits thy state
And birth that thou shouldst stand while Lewis
doth sit.
5No, mighty King of France. Now Margaret
1610Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve
Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
Great Albion’s queen in former golden days,
But now mischance hath trod my title down
10And with dishonor laid me on the ground,
1615Where I must take like seat unto my fortune
And to my humble seat conform myself.
Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep
despair?
15From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears
1620And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares.
Whate’er it be, be thou still like thyself,
And sit thee by our side.Seats her by him.
Yield not thy neck
20To Fortune’s yoke, but let thy dauntless mind
1625Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief.
It shall be eased if France can yield relief.
Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts
25And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
1630Now therefore be it known to noble Lewis
That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
Is, of a king, become a banished man
And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn;
30While proud ambitious Edward, Duke of York,
1635Usurps the regal title and the seat
Of England’s true-anointed lawful king.
This is the cause that I, poor Margaret,
With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry’s heir,
35Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid;
1640And if thou fail us, all our hope is done.
Scotland hath will to help but cannot help;
Our people and our peers are both misled,
Our treasure seized, our soldiers put to flight,
40And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.
1645Renownèd queen, with patience calm the storm
While we bethink a means to break it off.
The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.
The more I stay, the more I’ll succor thee.
45O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
Enter Warwick, wearing the white rose.
1650And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.
What’s he approacheth boldly to our presence?
Our Earl of Warwick, Edward’s greatest friend.
Welcome, brave Warwick. What brings thee to France?
He descends. She ariseth.
50Ay, now begins a second storm to rise,
1655For this is he that moves both wind and tide.
From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My lord and sovereign and thy vowèd friend,
I come in kindness and unfeignèd love,
55First, to do greetings to thy royal person,
1660And then to crave a league of amity,
And, lastly, to confirm that amity
With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister,
60To England’s king in lawful marriage.
1665If that go forward, Henry’s hope is done.
And, gracious madam, in our king’s behalf,
I am commanded, with your leave and favor,
Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue
65To tell the passion of my sovereign’s heart,
1670Where fame, late ent’ring at his heedful ears,
Hath placed thy beauty’s image and thy virtue.
King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak
Before you answer Warwick. His demand
70Springs not from Edward’s well-meant honest love,
1675But from deceit, bred by necessity;
For how can tyrants safely govern home
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance?
To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice:
75That Henry liveth still; but were he dead,
1680Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry’s son.
Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and
marriage
Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonor;
80For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
1685Yet heav’ns are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.
Injurious Margaret!
And why not “Queen”?
Because thy father Henry did usurp,
85And thou no more art prince than she is queen.
1690Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt,
Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain;
And after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest;
90And after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth,
1695Who by his prowess conquerèd all France.
From these our Henry lineally descends.
Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse
You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost
95All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten.
1700Methinks these peers of France should smile at that.
But, for the rest: you tell a pedigree
Of threescore and two years, a silly time
To make prescription for a kingdom’s worth.
100Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege,
1705Whom thou obeyed’st thirty and six years,
And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree?
105For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king.
1710Call him my king, by whose injurious doom
My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere,
Was done to death? And more than so, my father,
Even in the downfall of his mellowed years,
110When nature brought him to the door of death?
1715No, Warwick, no. While life upholds this arm,
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
And I the house of York.
Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,
115Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside
1720While I use further conference with Warwick.
Heavens grant that Warwick’s words bewitch him
not.
Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience,
120Is Edward your true king? For I were loath
1725To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honor.
But is he gracious in the people’s eye?
The more that Henry was unfortunate.
125Then further, all dissembling set aside,
1730Tell me for truth the measure of his love
Unto our sister Bona.
Such it seems
As may beseem a monarch like himself.
130Myself have often heard him say and swear
1735That this his love was an eternal plant,
Whereof the root was fixed in virtue’s ground,
The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty’s sun,
Exempt from envy but not from disdain,
135Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.
1740Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.
Your grant or your denial shall be mine.
(Speaks to Warwick.) Yet I confess that often ere this
day,
140When I have heard your king’s desert recounted,
1745Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire.
Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward’s.
And now forthwith shall articles be drawn
Touching the jointure that your king must make,
145Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised.—
1750Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness
That Bona shall be wife to the English king.
To Edward, but not to the English king.
Deceitful Warwick, it was thy device
150By this alliance to make void my suit.
1755Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry’s friend.
And still is friend to him and Margaret.
But if your title to the crown be weak,
As may appear by Edward’s good success,
155Then ’tis but reason that I be released
1760From giving aid which late I promisèd.
Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand
That your estate requires and mine can yield.
Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease,
160Where, having nothing, nothing can he lose.—
1765And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,
You have a father able to maintain you,
And better ’twere you troubled him than France.
Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick,
165Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings!
1770I will not hence till with my talk and tears,
Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold
Thy sly conveyance and thy lord’s false love,
For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
170Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.
1775My lord ambassador, these letters are for you,
Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague.
(To Lewis.) These from our king unto your Majesty.
(To Margaret.) And, madam, these for you—from
175whom, I know not.
1780I like it well that our fair queen and mistress
Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
Nay, mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled.
I hope all’s for the best.
180Warwick, what are thy news? And yours, fair queen?
1785Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.
Mine, full of sorrow and heart’s discontent.
What, has your king married the Lady Grey,
And now, to soothe your forgery and his,
185Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
1790Is this th’ alliance that he seeks with France?
Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?
I told your Majesty as much before.
This proveth Edward’s love and Warwick’s honesty.
190King Lewis, I here protest in sight of heaven
1795And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,
That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward’s—
No more my king, for he dishonors me,
But most himself, if he could see his shame.
195Did I forget that by the house of York
1800My father came untimely to his death?
Did I let pass th’ abuse done to my niece?
Did I impale him with the regal crown?
Did I put Henry from his native right?
200And am I guerdoned at the last with shame?
1805Shame on himself, for my desert is honor!
And to repair my honor lost for him,
I here renounce him and return to Henry.
He removes the white rose.
My noble queen, let former grudges pass,
205And henceforth I am thy true servitor.
1810I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona
And replant Henry in his former state.
Warwick, these words have turned my hate to love,
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
210And joy that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.
1815So much his friend, ay, his unfeignèd friend,
That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us
With some few bands of chosen soldiers,
I’ll undertake to land them on our coast
215And force the tyrant from his seat by war.
1820’Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him.
And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me,
He’s very likely now to fall from him
For matching more for wanton lust than honor,
220Or than for strength and safety of our country.
1825Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged
But by thy help to this distressèd queen?
Renownèd prince, how shall poor Henry live
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
225My quarrel and this English queen’s are one.
1830And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours.
And mine with hers and thine and Margaret’s.
Therefore at last I firmly am resolved
You shall have aid.
230Let me give humble thanks for all, at once.
1835Then, England’s messenger, return in post,
And tell false Edward, thy supposèd king,
That Lewis of France is sending over maskers
To revel it with him and his new bride.
235Thou seest what’s passed; go fear thy king withal.
1840Tell him, in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly,
I wear the willow garland for his sake.
Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside
And I am ready to put armor on.
240Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong,
1845And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere ’t be long.
There’s thy reward.Gives money.
Be gone.
But, Warwick,
245Thou and Oxford with five thousand men
1850Shall cross the seas and bid false Edward battle;
And as occasion serves, this noble queen
And prince shall follow with a fresh supply.
Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt:
250What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty?
1855This shall assure my constant loyalty:
That if our queen and this young prince agree,
I’ll join mine eldest daughter, and my joy,
To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.
255Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion.
1860Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous.
Therefore, delay not; give thy hand to Warwick,
And with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
That only Warwick’s daughter shall be thine.
260Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it,
1865And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.
Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied,
And thou, Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral,
Shall waft them over with our royal fleet.
265I long till Edward fall by war’s mischance
1870For mocking marriage with a dame of France.
I came from Edward as ambassador,
But I return his sworn and mortal foe.
Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me,
270But dreadful war shall answer his demand.
1875Had he none else to make a stale but me?
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.
I was the chief that raised him to the crown,
And I’ll be chief to bring him down again:
275Not that I pity Henry’s misery,
1880But seek revenge on Edward’s mockery.
Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you
Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey?
Hath not our brother made a worthy choice?
Alas, you know ’tis far from hence to France.
51885How could he stay till Warwick made return?
My lords, forbear this talk. Here comes the King.
And his well-chosen bride.
I mind to tell him plainly what I think.
Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice,
101890That you stand pensive, as half malcontent?
As well as Lewis of France or the Earl of Warwick,
Which are so weak of courage and in judgment
That they’ll take no offense at our abuse.
Suppose they take offense without a cause,
151895They are but Lewis and Warwick; I am Edward,
Your king and Warwick’s, and must have my will.
And shall have your will because our king.
Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too?
201900Not I.
No, God forbid that I should wish them severed
Whom God hath joined together. Ay, and ’twere pity
To sunder them that yoke so well together.
Setting your scorns and your mislike aside,
251905Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey
Should not become my wife and England’s queen?
And you too, Somerset and Montague,
Speak freely what you think.
Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis
301910Becomes your enemy for mocking him
About the marriage of the Lady Bona.
And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge,
Is now dishonorèd by this new marriage.
What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeased
351915By such invention as I can devise?
Yet to have joined with France in such alliance
Would more have strengthened this our
commonwealth
’Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage.
401920Why, knows not Montague that of itself
England is safe, if true within itself?
But the safer when ’tis backed with France.
’Tis better using France than trusting France.
Let us be backed with God and with the seas
451925Which He hath giv’n for fence impregnable,
And with their helps only defend ourselves.
In them and in ourselves our safety lies.
For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserves
To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.
501930Ay, what of that? It was my will and grant,
And for this once my will shall stand for law.
And yet methinks your Grace hath not done well
To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
Unto the brother of your loving bride.
551935She better would have fitted me or Clarence;
But in your bride you bury brotherhood.
Or else you would not have bestowed the heir
Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife’s son,
And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.
601940Alas, poor Clarence, is it for a wife
That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.
In choosing for yourself you showed your judgment,
Which, being shallow, you shall give me leave
To play the broker in mine own behalf.
651945And to that end, I shortly mind to leave you.
Leave me or tarry, Edward will be king
And not be tied unto his brother’s will.
My lords, before it pleased his Majesty
To raise my state to title of a queen,
701950Do me but right and you must all confess
That I was not ignoble of descent,
And meaner than myself have had like fortune.
But as this title honors me and mine,
So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,
751955Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.
My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns.
What danger or what sorrow can befall thee
So long as Edward is thy constant friend
And their true sovereign, whom they must obey?
801960Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too,
Unless they seek for hatred at my hands;
Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe,
And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.
I hear, yet say not much, but think the more.
851965Now, messenger, what letters or what news from
France?
My sovereign liege, no letters and few words
But such as I without your special pardon
Dare not relate.
901970Go to, we pardon thee. Therefore, in brief,
Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them.
What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters?
At my depart, these were his very words:
“Go tell false Edward, the supposèd king,
951975That Lewis of France is sending over maskers
To revel it with him and his new bride.”
Is Lewis so brave? Belike he thinks me Henry.
But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?
These were her words, uttered with mild disdain:
1001980“Tell him, in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly,
I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.”
I blame not her; she could say little less;
She had the wrong. But what said Henry’s queen?
For I have heard that she was there in place.
1051985“Tell him,” quoth she, “my mourning weeds are
done,
And I am ready to put armor on.”
Belike she minds to play the Amazon.
But what said Warwick to these injuries?
1101990He, more incensed against your Majesty
Than all the rest, discharged me with these words:
“Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere ’t be long.”
Ha! Durst the traitor breathe out so proud words?
1151995Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarned.
They shall have wars and pay for their presumption.
But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?
Ay, gracious sovereign, they are so linked in
friendship
1202000That young Prince Edward marries Warwick’s
daughter.
Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger.—
Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast,
For I will hence to Warwick’s other daughter,
1252005That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage
I may not prove inferior to yourself.
You that love me and Warwick, follow me.
Not I. My thoughts aim at a further matter:
I stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.
1302010Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick?
Yet am I armed against the worst can happen,
And haste is needful in this desp’rate case.
Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf
Go levy men and make prepare for war.
1352015They are already, or quickly will be, landed.
Myself in person will straight follow you.
Pembroke and Stafford exit.
But ere I go, Hastings and Montague,
Resolve my doubt: you twain, of all the rest,
Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance.
1402020Tell me if you love Warwick more than me.
If it be so, then both depart to him.
I rather wish you foes than hollow friends.
But if you mind to hold your true obedience,
Give me assurance with some friendly vow,
1452025That I may never have you in suspect.
So God help Montague as he proves true!
And Hastings as he favors Edward’s cause!
Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us?
Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.
1502030Why, so. Then am I sure of victory.
Now therefore let us hence and lose no hour
Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.
Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well.
The common people by numbers swarm to us.
Enter Clarence and Somerset.
2035But see where Somerset and Clarence comes.—
Speak suddenly, my lords: are we all friends?
5Fear not that, my lord.
Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick,
And welcome, Somerset. I hold it cowardice
2040To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
Hath pawned an open hand in sign of love;
10Else might I think that Clarence, Edward’s brother,
Were but a feignèd friend to our proceedings.
But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be
2045thine.
And now, what rests but, in night’s coverture
15Thy brother being carelessly encamped,
His soldiers lurking in the town about,
And but attended by a simple guard,
2050We may surprise and take him at our pleasure?
Our scouts have found the adventure very easy;
20That, as Ulysses and stout Diomed
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus’ tents
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds,
2055So we, well covered with the night’s black mantle,
At unawares may beat down Edward’s guard
25And seize himself. I say not “slaughter him,”
For I intend but only to surprise him.
You that will follow me to this attempt,
2060Applaud the name of Henry with your leader.
They all cry “Henry!”
Why then, let’s on our way in silent sort.
30For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George!
Come on, my masters, each man take his stand.
The King by this is set him down to sleep.
2065What, will he not to bed?
Why, no, for he hath made a solemn vow
5Never to lie and take his natural rest
Till Warwick or himself be quite suppressed.
Tomorrow, then, belike shall be the day,
2070If Warwick be so near as men report.
But say, I pray, what nobleman is that
10That with the King here resteth in his tent?
’Tis the Lord Hastings, the King’s chiefest friend.
O, is it so? But why commands the King
2075That his chief followers lodge in towns about him,
While he himself keeps in the cold field?
15’Tis the more honor, because more dangerous.
Ay, but give me worship and quietness;
I like it better than a dangerous honor.
2080If Warwick knew in what estate he stands,
’Tis to be doubted he would waken him.
20Unless our halberds did shut up his passage.
Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent
But to defend his person from night foes?
2085This is his tent, and see where stand his guard.
Courage, my masters. Honor, now or never!
25But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
Who goes there?
Stay, or thou diest!
Warwick and the rest cry all “Warwick, Warwick!”
2090What are they that fly there?
Richard and Hastings.
30Let them go. Here is the Duke.
The Duke?
Why, Warwick, when we parted, thou call’dst me king.
2095Ay, but the case is altered.
When you disgraced me in my embassade,
35Then I degraded you from being king
And come now to create you Duke of York.
Alas, how should you govern any kingdom
2100That know not how to use ambassadors,
Nor how to be contented with one wife,
40Nor how to use your brothers brotherly,
Nor how to study for the people’s welfare,
Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?
2105Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here too?
Nay, then, I see that Edward needs must down.
45Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance,
Of thee thyself and all thy complices,
Edward will always bear himself as king.
2110Though Fortune’s malice overthrow my state,
My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.
50Then for his mind be Edward England’s king,
Takes off his crown.
But Henry now shall wear the English crown
And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow.—
2115My lord of Somerset, at my request,
See that forthwith Duke Edward be conveyed
55Unto my brother, Archbishop of York.
When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows,
I’ll follow you and tell what answer
2120Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.—
Now for awhile farewell, good Duke of York.
60What Fates impose, that men must needs abide;
It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
What now remains, my lords, for us to do
2125But march to London with our soldiers?
Ay, that’s the first thing that we have to do,
65To free King Henry from imprisonment
And see him seated in the regal throne.
Madam, what makes you in this sudden change?
2130Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn
What late misfortune is befall’n King Edward?
What, loss of some pitched battle against Warwick?
5No, but the loss of his own royal person.
Then is my sovereign slain?
2135Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner,
Either betrayed by falsehood of his guard
Or by his foe surprised at unawares;
10And, as I further have to understand,
Is new committed to the Bishop of York,
2140Fell Warwick’s brother and by that our foe.
These news I must confess are full of grief;
Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may.
15Warwick may lose that now hath won the day.
Till then fair hope must hinder life’s decay;
2145And I the rather wean me from despair
For love of Edward’s offspring in my womb.
This is it that makes me bridle passion
20And bear with mildness my misfortune’s cross.
Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear
2150And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs,
Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown
King Edward’s fruit, true heir to th’ English crown.
25But, madam, where is Warwick then become?
I am informèd that he comes towards London
2155To set the crown once more on Henry’s head.
Guess thou the rest: King Edward’s friends must
down.
30But to prevent the tyrant’s violence—
For trust not him that hath once broken faith—
2160I’ll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary
To save at least the heir of Edward’s right.
There shall I rest secure from force and fraud.
35Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly.
If Warwick take us, we are sure to die.
2165Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley,
Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither
Into this chiefest thicket of the park.
Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother,
5Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands
2170He hath good usage and great liberty,
And, often but attended with weak guard,
Comes hunting this way to disport himself.
I have advertised him by secret means
10That, if about this hour he make this way
2175Under the color of his usual game,
He shall here find his friends with horse and men
To set him free from his captivity.
This way, my lord, for this way lies the game.
15Nay, this way, man. See where the huntsmen stand.—
2180Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the
rest,
Stand you thus close to steal the Bishop’s deer?
Brother, the time and case requireth haste.
20Your horse stands ready at the park corner.
2185But whither shall we then?
To Lynn, my lord, and shipped from thence
to Flanders.
Well guessed, believe me, for that was my meaning.
25Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.
2190But wherefore stay we? ’Tis no time to talk.
Huntsman, what sayst thou? Wilt thou go along?
Better do so than tarry and be hanged.
Come then, away! Let’s ha’ no more ado.
30Bishop, farewell; shield thee from Warwick’s frown,
2195And pray that I may repossess the crown.
Master lieutenant, now that God and friends
Have shaken Edward from the regal seat
And turned my captive state to liberty,
My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys,
52200At our enlargement what are thy due fees?
Subjects may challenge nothing of their sov’reigns,
But, if an humble prayer may prevail,
I then crave pardon of your Majesty.
For what, lieutenant? For well using me?
102205Nay, be thou sure I’ll well requite thy kindness,
For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure,
Ay, such a pleasure as encagèd birds
Conceive when, after many moody thoughts,
At last by notes of household harmony
152210They quite forget their loss of liberty.—
But, Warwick, after God thou sett’st me free,
And chiefly, therefore, I thank God and thee.
He was the author, thou the instrument.
Therefore, that I may conquer Fortune’s spite
202215By living low where Fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this blessèd land
May not be punished with my thwarting stars,
Warwick, although my head still wear the crown,
I here resign my government to thee,
252220For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
Your Grace hath still been famed for virtuous
And now may seem as wise as virtuous
By spying and avoiding Fortune’s malice,
For few men rightly temper with the stars.
302225Yet, in this one thing let me blame your Grace:
For choosing me when Clarence is in place.
No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway,
To whom the heav’ns in thy nativity
Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown
352230As likely to be blest in peace and war;
And therefore I yield thee my free consent.
And I choose Clarence only for Protector.
Warwick and Clarence, give me both your hands.
Now join your hands, and with your hands your
402235hearts,
That no dissension hinder government.
He joins their hands.
I make you both Protectors of this land,
While I myself will lead a private life
And in devotion spend my latter days,
452240To sin’s rebuke and my Creator’s praise.
What answers Clarence to his sovereign’s will?
That he consents, if Warwick yield consent,
For on thy fortune I repose myself.
Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content.
502245We’ll yoke together like a double shadow
To Henry’s body, and supply his place—
I mean, in bearing weight of government—
While he enjoys the honor and his ease.
And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful
552250Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor
And all his lands and goods be confiscate.
What else? And that succession be determinèd.
Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part.
But with the first of all your chief affairs
602255Let me entreat—for I command no more—
That Margaret your queen and my son Edward
Be sent for, to return from France with speed,
For till I see them here, by doubtful fear
My joy of liberty is half eclipsed.
652260It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed.
My lord of Somerset, what youth is that
Of whom you seem to have so tender care?
My liege, it is young Henry, Earl of Richmond.
Come hither, England’s hope.
Lays his hand on Richmond’s head.
702265If secret powers
Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts,
This pretty lad will prove our country’s bliss.
His looks are full of peaceful majesty,
His head by nature framed to wear a crown,
752270His hand to wield a scepter, and himself
Likely in time to bless a regal throne.
Make much of him, my lords, for this is he
Must help you more than you are hurt by me.
What news, my friend?
802275That Edward is escapèd from your brother
And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.
Unsavory news! But how made he escape?
He was conveyed by Richard, Duke of Gloucester,
And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
852280In secret ambush on the forest side
And from the Bishop’s huntsmen rescued him,
For hunting was his daily exercise.
My brother was too careless of his charge.
But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide
902285A salve for any sore that may betide.
My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward’s,
For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help,
And we shall have more wars before ’t be long.
As Henry’s late presaging prophecy
952290Did glad my heart with hope of this young
Richmond,
So doth my heart misgive me in these conflicts
What may befall him, to his harm and ours.
Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst,
1002295Forthwith we’ll send him hence to Brittany
Till storms be past of civil enmity.
Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown,
’Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall down.
It shall be so. He shall to Brittany.
1052300Come, therefore, let’s about it speedily.
Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest:
Yet thus far Fortune maketh us amends,
And says that once more I shall interchange
My wanèd state for Henry’s regal crown.
52305Well have we passed, and now re-passed, the seas,
And brought desirèd help from Burgundy.
What then remains, we being thus arrived
From Ravenspurgh Haven before the gates of York,
But that we enter as into our dukedom?
102310The gates made fast? Brother, I like not this.
For many men that stumble at the threshold
Are well foretold that danger lurks within.
Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us.
By fair or foul means we must enter in,
152315For hither will our friends repair to us.
My liege, I’ll knock once more to summon them.
My lords, we were forewarnèd of your coming,
And shut the gates for safety of ourselves,
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.
202320But, master mayor, if Henry be your king,
Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of York.
True, my good lord, I know you for no less.
Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom,
As being well content with that alone.
252325But when the fox hath once got in his nose,
He’ll soon find means to make the body follow.
Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt?
Open the gates. We are King Henry’s friends.
Ay, say you so? The gates shall then be opened.
302330A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded.
The good old man would fain that all were well,
So ’twere not long of him; but being entered,
I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade
Both him and all his brothers unto reason.
352335So, master mayor, these gates must not be shut
But in the night or in the time of war.
What, fear not, man, but yield me up the keys.
Takes his keys.
For Edward will defend the town and thee
And all those friends that deign to follow me.
402340Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery,
Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.
Welcome, Sir John. But why come you in arms?
To help King Edward in his time of storm,
As every loyal subject ought to do.
452345Thanks, good Montgomery. But we now forget
Our title to the crown, and only claim
Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest.
Then fare you well, for I will hence again.
I came to serve a king and not a duke.—
502350Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.
Nay, stay, Sir John, a while, and we’ll debate
By what safe means the crown may be recovered.
What talk you of debating? In few words,
If you’ll not here proclaim yourself our king,
552355I’ll leave you to your fortune and be gone
To keep them back that come to succor you.
Why shall we fight if you pretend no title?
Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points?
When we grow stronger, then we’ll make our claim.
602360Till then ’tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
Away with scrupulous wit! Now arms must rule.
And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand;
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
652365Then be it as you will, for ’tis my right,
And Henry but usurps the diadem.
Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself,
And now will I be Edward’s champion.
Sound, trumpet! Edward shall be here proclaimed.—
702370Come, fellow soldier, make thou proclamation.
Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of
God, King of England and France, and Lord of
Ireland, &c.
And whosoe’er gainsays King Edward’s right,
752375By this I challenge him to single fight.
Long live Edward the Fourth!
Thanks, brave Montgomery, and thanks unto you all.
If fortune serve me, I’ll requite this kindness.
Now, for this night let’s harbor here in York,
802380And when the morning sun shall raise his car
Above the border of this horizon,
We’ll forward towards Warwick and his mates;
For well I wot that Henry is no soldier.
Ah, froward Clarence, how evil it beseems thee
852385To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother!
Yet, as we may, we’ll meet both thee and Warwick.
Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day;
And that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.
What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
2390With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders,
Hath passed in safety through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troops doth march amain to London,
5And many giddy people flock to him.
Let’s levy men and beat him back again.
2395A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.
In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends,
10Not mutinous in peace yet bold in war.
Those will I muster up; and thou, son Clarence,
2400Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee.—
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
15Northampton, and in Leicestershire shalt find
Men well inclined to hear what thou command’st.—
2405And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.—
My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
20Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
2410Shall rest in London till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.—
Farewell, my sovereign.
25Farewell, my Hector and my Troy’s true hope.
In sign of truth, I kiss your Highness’ hand.
2415Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave.
And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu.
30Sweet Oxford and my loving Montague
And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
2420Farewell, sweet lords. Let’s meet at Coventry.
Here at the palace will I rest awhile.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your Lordship?
35Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
Should not be able to encounter mine.
2425The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.
That’s not my fear. My meed hath got me fame.
I have not stopped mine ears to their demands,
40Nor posted off their suits with slow delays.
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
2430My mildness hath allayed their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears.
I have not been desirous of their wealth
45Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies,
Nor forward of revenge, though they much erred.
2435Then why should they love Edward more than me?
No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace;
And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
50The lamb will never cease to follow him.
Hark, hark, my lord, what shouts are these?
2440Seize on the shamefaced Henry, bear him hence,
And once again proclaim us King of England.—
You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow.
55Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry
And swell so much the higher by their ebb.—
2445Hence with him to the Tower. Let him not speak.
Soldiers exit with King Henry and Exeter.
And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course,
Where peremptory Warwick now remains.
60The sun shines hot, and if we use delay,
Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
2450Away betimes, before his forces join,
And take the great-grown traitor unawares.
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?—
How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
2455By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.
How far off is our brother Montague?
5Where is the post that came from Montague?
By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.
Say, Somerville, what says my loving son?
2460And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
At Southam I did leave him with his forces
10And do expect him here some two hours hence.
Then Clarence is at hand; I hear his drum.
It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies.
2465The drum your Honor hears marcheth from Warwick.
Who should that be? Belike unlooked-for friends.
15They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.
Go, Trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle.
See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.
2470O unbid spite, is sportful Edward come?
Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced,
20That we could hear no news of his repair?
Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates,
Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee?
2475Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy,
And he shall pardon thee these outrages.
25Nay, rather wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confess who set thee up and plucked thee down,
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent,
2480And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.
I thought at least he would have said “the King.”
30Or did he make the jest against his will?
Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?
Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give.
2485I’ll do thee service for so good a gift.
’Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother.
35Why, then, ’tis mine, if but by Warwick’s gift.
Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight;
And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again,
2490And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
But Warwick’s king is Edward’s prisoner.
40And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this:
What is the body when the head is off?
Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast,
2495But whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
The King was slyly fingered from the deck.
45You left poor Henry at the Bishop’s palace,
And ten to one you’ll meet him in the Tower.
’Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still.
2500Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel
down.
50Nay, when? Strike now, or else the iron cools.
I had rather chop this hand off at a blow
And with the other fling it at thy face
2505Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.
Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend,
55This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,
Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off,
Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood:
2510“Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.”
O, cheerful colors, see where Oxford comes!
60Oxford, Oxford for Lancaster!
Oxford and his troops exit as through a city gate.
The gates are open; let us enter too.
So other foes may set upon our backs.
2515Stand we in good array, for they no doubt
Will issue out again and bid us battle.
65If not, the city being but of small defense,
We’ll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.
O welcome, Oxford, for we want thy help.
2520Montague, Montague for Lancaster!
Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason
70Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear!
The harder matched, the greater victory.
My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.
2525Somerset, Somerset for Lancaster!
Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset,
75Have sold their lives unto the house of York,
And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.
And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along,
2530Of force enough to bid his brother battle,
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails
80More than the nature of a brother’s love.—
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call.
Father of Warwick, know you what this means?
He removes the red rose.
2535Look, here I throw my infamy at thee.
He throws the rose at Warwick.
I will not ruinate my father’s house,
85Who gave his blood to lime the stones together
And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
2540To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother and his lawful king?
90Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath.
To keep that oath were more impiety
Than Jephthah when he sacrificed his daughter.
2545I am so sorry for my trespass made
That, to deserve well at my brother’s hands,
95I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe,
With resolution, wheresoe’er I meet thee—
As I will meet thee if thou stir abroad—
2550To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee
100And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.—
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends.—
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
2555For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
Now, welcome more, and ten times more beloved,
105Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.
Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like.
O, passing traitor, perjured and unjust.
2560What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
110Alas, I am not cooped here for defense.
I will away towards Barnet presently
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar’st.
2565Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way.—
Warwick exits from the walls and descends.
Lords, to the field! Saint George and victory!
So, lie thou there. Die thou, and die our fear,
For Warwick was a bug that feared us all.
Now, Montague, sit fast. I seek for thee,
2570That Warwick’s bones may keep thine company.
5Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe,
And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick?
Why ask I that? My mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows
2575That I must yield my body to the earth
10And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,
2580Whose top branch overpeered Jove’s spreading tree
15And kept low shrubs from winter’s pow’rful wind.
These eyes, that now are dimmed with death’s black
veil,
Have been as piercing as the midday sun
2585To search the secret treasons of the world.
20The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood,
Were likened oft to kingly sepulchers,
For who lived king but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow?
2590Lo, now my glory smeared in dust and blood!
25My parks, my walks, my manors that I had
Even now forsake me; and of all my lands
Is nothing left me but my body’s length.
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
2595And live we how we can, yet die we must.
30Ah, Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are,
We might recover all our loss again.
The Queen from France hath brought a puissant
power;
2600Even now we heard the news. Ah, could’st thou fly—
35Why, then, I would not fly. Ah, Montague,
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile.
Thou lov’st me not, for, brother, if thou didst,
2605Thy tears would wash this cold congealèd blood
40That glues my lips and will not let me speak.
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breathed his last,
And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,
2610And said “Commend me to my valiant brother.”
45And more he would have said, and more he spoke,
Which sounded like a cannon in a vault,
That mought not be distinguished, but at last
I well might hear, delivered with a groan,
2615“O, farewell, Warwick.”
50Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves,
For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven.
Away, away, to meet the Queen’s great power!
Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,
2620And we are graced with wreaths of victory.
But in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black suspicious threat’ning cloud
5That will encounter with our glorious sun
Ere he attain his easeful western bed.
2625I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen
Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
10A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
And blow it to the source from whence it came;
2630Thy very beams will dry those vapors up,
For every cloud engenders not a storm.
The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
15And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her.
If she have time to breathe, be well assured
2635Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
We are advertised by our loving friends
That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury.
20We having now the best at Barnet Field
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way,
2640And, as we march, our strength will be augmented
In every county as we go along.
Strike up the drum, cry “Courage!” and away.
Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
2645What though the mast be now blown overboard,
The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,
5And half our sailors swallowed in the flood?
Yet lives our pilot still. Is ’t meet that he
Should leave the helm and, like a fearful lad,
2650With tearful eyes add water to the sea
And give more strength to that which hath too much,
10Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock,
Which industry and courage might have saved?
Ah, what a shame, ah, what a fault were this!
2655Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?
And Montague our topmast; what of him?
15Our slaughtered friends the tackles; what of these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast?
2660The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?
And, though unskillful, why not Ned and I
20For once allowed the skillful pilot’s charge?
We will not from the helm to sit and weep,
But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,
2665From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack.
As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.
25And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?
And Richard but a ragged fatal rock—
2670All these the enemies to our poor bark?
Say you can swim: alas, ’tis but awhile;
30Tread on the sand: why, there you quickly sink;
Bestride the rock: the tide will wash you off
Or else you famish; that’s a threefold death.
2675This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
If case some one of you would fly from us,
35That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers
More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.
Why, courage then! What cannot be avoided
2680’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit
40Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity
And make him, naked, foil a man-at-arms.
2685I speak not this as doubting any here,
For did I but suspect a fearful man,
45He should have leave to go away betimes,
Lest in our need he might infect another
And make him of like spirit to himself.
2690If any such be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart before we need his help.
50Women and children of so high a courage,
And warriors faint? Why, ’twere perpetual shame!
O, brave young prince, thy famous grandfather
2695Doth live again in thee. Long mayst thou live
To bear his image and renew his glories!
55And he that will not fight for such a hope,
Go home to bed and, like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mocked and wondered at.
2700Thanks, gentle Somerset.—Sweet Oxford, thanks.
And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.
60Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand,
Ready to fight. Therefore be resolute.
I thought no less. It is his policy
2705To haste thus fast to find us unprovided.
But he’s deceived. We are in readiness.
65This cheers my heart to see your forwardness.
Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.
Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood
2710Which by the heavens’ assistance and your strength
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
70I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For, well I wot, you blaze to burn them out.
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords!
2715Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say
My tears gainsay, for every word I speak
75You see I drink the water of my eye.
Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,
Is prisoner to the foe, his state usurped,
2720His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancelled and his treasure spent,
80And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice. Then, in God’s name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight!
2725Now here a period of tumultuous broils.
Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight.
For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
Go bear them hence. I will not hear them speak.
5For my part, I’ll not trouble thee with words.
2730Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
So part we sadly in this troublous world
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
Is proclamation made that who finds Edward
10Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
2735It is, and lo where youthful Edward comes.
Bring forth the gallant; let us hear him speak.
What, can so young a thorn begin to prick?—
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make
15For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
2740And all the trouble thou hast turned me to?
Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York.
Suppose that I am now my father’s mouth:
Resign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou,
20Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee
2745Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.
Ah, that thy father had been so resolved!
That you might still have worn the petticoat
And ne’er have stol’n the breech from Lancaster.
25Let Aesop fable in a winter’s night;
2750His currish riddles sorts not with this place.
By heaven, brat, I’ll plague you for that word.
Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.
For God’s sake, take away this captive scold.
30Nay, take away this scolding crookback, rather.
2755Peace, willful boy, or I will charm your tongue.
Untutored lad, thou art too malapert.
I know my duty. You are all undutiful.
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George,
35And thou misshapen Dick, I tell you all
2760I am your better, traitors as you are,
And thou usurp’st my father’s right and mine.
Take that, the likeness of this railer here!
Sprawl’st thou? Take that to end thy agony!
40And there’s for twitting me with perjury.
2765O, kill me too!
Marry, and shall.
Offers to kill her.
Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.
Why should she live to fill the world with words?
45What, doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery.
2770Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother.
I’ll hence to London on a serious matter.
Ere you come there, be sure to hear some news.
What? What?
50The Tower, the Tower!
He exits.
2775O Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy mother, boy.
Canst thou not speak? O traitors, murderers!
They that stabbed Caesar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
55If this foul deed were by to equal it.
2780He was a man; this, in respect, a child,
And men ne’er spend their fury on a child.
What’s worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst an if I speak,
60And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
2785Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals,
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropped!
You have no children, butchers. If you had,
The thought of them would have stirred up remorse.
65But if you ever chance to have a child,
2790Look in his youth to have him so cut off
As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince.
Away with her. Go bear her hence perforce.
Nay, never bear me hence! Dispatch me here.
70Here sheathe thy sword; I’ll pardon thee my death.
2795What, wilt thou not?—Then, Clarence, do it thou.
By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
Good Clarence, do! Sweet Clarence, do thou do it.
Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
75Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself.
2800’Twas sin before, but now ’tis charity.
What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil’s butcher,
Richard,
Hard-favored Richard? Richard, where art thou?
80Thou art not here. Murder is thy alms-deed;
2805Petitioners for blood thou ne’er putt’st back.
Away, I say! (To Soldiers.) I charge you bear her
hence.
So come to you and yours as to this prince!
85Where’s Richard gone?
2810To London all in post, and, as I guess,
To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
He’s sudden if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence. Discharge the common sort
90With pay and thanks, and let’s away to London
2815And see our gentle queen how well she fares.
By this I hope she hath a son for me.
Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
Ay, my good lord—“my lord,” I should say rather.
’Tis sin to flatter; “good” was little better:
2820“Good Gloucester” and “good devil” were alike,
5And both preposterous: therefore, not “good lord.”
Sirrah, leave us to ourselves; we must confer.
So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece
2825And next his throat unto the butcher’s knife.
10What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
The bird that hath been limèd in a bush,
2830With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;
15And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye
Where my poor young was limed, was caught, and
killed.
2835Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete
20That taught his son the office of a fowl!
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drowned.
I Daedalus, my poor boy Icarus,
Thy father Minos, that denied our course;
2840The sun that seared the wings of my sweet boy
25Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger’s point
2845Than can my ears that tragic history.
30But wherefore dost thou come? Is ’t for my life?
Think’st thou I am an executioner?
A persecutor I am sure thou art.
If murdering innocents be executing,
2850Why, then, thou art an executioner.
35Thy son I killed for his presumption.
Hadst thou been killed when first thou didst presume,
Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy: that many a thousand
2855Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
40And many an old man’s sigh, and many a widow’s
And many an orphan’s water-standing eye,
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
Orphans for their parents’ timeless death,
2860Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
45The owl shrieked at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howled, and hideous tempest shook down trees;
The raven rooked her on the chimney’s top;
2865And chatt’ring pies in dismal discords sung;
50Thy mother felt more than a mother’s pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother’s hope:
To wit, an indigested and deformèd lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
2870Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born
55To signify thou cam’st to bite the world.
And if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam’st—
I’ll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech;
Stabs him.
2875For this amongst the rest was I ordained.
60Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
O God, forgive my sins, and pardon thee.
What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
2880See how my sword weeps for the poor king’s death.
65O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house.
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither—
Stabs him again.
2885I that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
70Indeed, ’tis true that Henry told me of,
For I have often heard my mother say
I came into the world with my legs forward.
Had I not reason, think you, to make haste
2890And seek their ruin that usurped our right?
75The midwife wondered, and the women cried
“O Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!”
And so I was, which plainly signified
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
2895Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so,
80Let hell make crook’d my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother;
And this word “love,” which graybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another
2900And not in me. I am myself alone.
85Clarence, beware; thou keep’st me from the light,
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;
For I will buzz abroad such prophecies
That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
2905And then to purge his fear, I’ll be thy death.
90King Henry and the Prince his son are gone.
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I’ll throw thy body in another room,
2910And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
Once more we sit in England’s royal throne,
Repurchased with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foemen, like to autumn’s corn,
Have we mowed down in tops of all their pride!
52915Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renowned
For hardy and undoubted champions;
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;
And two Northumberlands; two braver men
Ne’er spurred their coursers at the trumpet’s sound.
102920With them the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,
That in their chains fettered the kingly lion
And made the forest tremble when they roared.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat
152925And made our footstool of security.—
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.—
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armors watched the winter’s night,
Went all afoot in summer’s scalding heat,
202930That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace,
And of our labors thou shalt reap the gain.
I’ll blast his harvest, if your head were laid;
For yet I am not looked on in the world.
This shoulder was ordained so thick to heave,
252935And heave it shall some weight or break my back.
Work thou the way and that shalt execute.
Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen,
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
The duty that I owe unto your Majesty
302940I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.
Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.
And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang’st,
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
He kisses the infant.
Aside. To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master
352945And cried “All hail!” whenas he meant all harm.
Now am I seated as my soul delights,
Having my country’s peace and brothers’ loves.
What will your Grace have done with Margaret?
Reignier, her father, to the King of France
402950Hath pawned the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
Away with her, and waft her hence to France.
And now what rests but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
452955Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
Sound drums and trumpets! Farewell, sour annoy,
For here I hope begins our lasting joy.