« AnteriorContinuar »
Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, To see this sight, it irks ny very soul.--
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ?
20 Whicli argued thee a most unloving father. Ne'er may he live to see a sun-shine day, Unreasonable creatures feed their young : That crits-Retire, when Warwick bids him stay. And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will || Yet, in protection of their tender ones, lean;
Who hath not seen them (even with those wings And when thou fail'st, (as God forbid the hour!) 25 Which sometime they have us'd in fearful flight) Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend ! Make war with bim that climb'd unto their nest, War. No longer earl of March, but duke of Offering their own lives in their young's defence? York;
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! The next degree is, England's royal king: Were it not pity, that this goodly boy Por king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd 30 Should lose his birth-right by his father's fault; In every borough as we pass along:
And long hereafter say unto his child, And he, that casts not up his cap for joy,
“ What my great grandfather and grandsire got, Sball for the offence make forfeit of his head. " My careless father fondly gave away;" King Edward,—valiant Richard,-Montague,- Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, 35 And let his manly face, which promiseth But sound the trumpets, and about our task, Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, Rich. Then, Clitford, were thy heart as hard To hold thinc own, and leave thine own with him. as steel,
K. Henry. Full well hath Clifford play'd the (As thou hast shewn it finty by thy deeds)
That things ill got had ever bad success?
And happy always was it for that son,
[me, Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?? Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by45('ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ; The queen is coming with a puissant host ; And 'would, my father had left me no more! And craves your company for speedy counsel. For all the rest is held at such a rate, War. Why then it sorts“, brave warriors: Let's As brings a thousand fold more care to keep, away.
(Excunt. Than in possession any jot of pleasure.- [know,
50 Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did SCENE II.
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!
Queen. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes York.
are nigh, Enter King Henry, the Queen, the Prince of Wales, And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
Clifford, and Northumberland, with forces. 55 You promis'd knighthood to our forward son; Queen. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town Unsheath your sword, and dub himn presently.. of York.
Edward, kneel down. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy,
K. Henry. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; That sought to be encompass’d with your crown; And learn this lesson-Draw thy sword in right. Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord 60 Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, K. Henry. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, their wreck;
And in that quarrel use it to the death. 'i.e. high. : ? Meaning, Why then things are as they should be. • This afludes to the common proverb of “ Happy the child whose father went to the devil.” Rr 2
Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled. Enter à Messenger.
Wur. 'Twas not your valour, Clitord, drove Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness:
(you stay. For, with a band of thirty thousand men,
North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York; 5 Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently; And, in the towns as they do march along, Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain Proclaims him ing, and many fly to him: The execution of my big-swoln heart Darraign' your battle, for they are at hand. Upon that Clifford there, that cruel child-killer. Clif. I would, your highness would depart the Clif. 1 slew thy father; Callst thou him a child? field;
10 Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and ä treacherous The queen hath best success when you are absent.
coward, Queen. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ; fortune.
[I'll stay. But, ere sun-set, l'll make thee curse the deed, K.Henry. Why, that's my fortune too: therefore K. Henry. Have done with words, my lords, North. Be it with resolution then to fight. 115
and hear me speak.
[lips. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble Queen. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lords,
K. Henry. I pr’ythee, give no limits to my And hearten those that fight in your defence:
tongue; Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. George!
20 Clif: My liege, the wound, that bred this meetMarch. Enter Edward, Clarence, Richard, War
ing here, wick, Norfolk, Montagu, and Soldiers. Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword:
By Ilion that made us all, I am resolv'd',
I And set thy diadein upon my head;
25/1 hat Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
Edir. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? Queen. Gorate thy minions,proud insulting boy ! A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,
That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown. Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king?
War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his 30 For York in justice puts his armour on. knee;
Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says I was adopted heir by his consent :
is right, Since when, his oath is broke: for, as I hear, There is no wrong, but every thing is right. You-that are king, though he do wear the crown, Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother Tlave caus'd him, by new act of parliament, 135
stands; To blot out ine, and put his own son in.
For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. Clif. And reason too;
Queen. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor Who should succeed the father, but the son ? Rich. Art thou there, butcher:-0, I cannot But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic speak!
(thee, 40 Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer As venom'd toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
Rich. Iron of Naples, bid with English gilt, Rich 'Twas you that kill'd
young Rutland, Whose tather bears the title of a king, was it not?
|(As if a channel should be call'd the sea,) [traught. Clif, Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfyd. 45 Slam'st thou not, kuowing whence thou art exRich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? fight.
[the crown: Edw. A wisp of strawo were worth a thouWar. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou vield
sand crowns, Queen. Why, liow now, long-tongu'd Warwick: To make this shameless callat' know herself. dare you speak?
50 Helen of Greece was fairec far than thou, and I met at Saint Alban's last,
Although thy husband may be Menelaus; Your legs did better service than your hands? And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd Wur. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis By that false woman, as this king by thee. thine.
His father revell'd in the heart of France,
That is, Range your host. * Alluding to the proverb, “One pair of heels is worth two pair of Bands." i. e. it is my firm persuasion. *AS
stigmatic is said to have been a notorious lewd fellow, who hath been burnt with a hot iron, or beareth other marks about him as a token of his punishinent. • Gilt is a superficial covering of gold. • Mr. Steevens comments on this passage thus: Barrett in his Alrearic, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, interprets the word reispe by peniculus, which signifies any thing to wipe or cleanse with; a cook's linen apron, &c. Pewter is still scoured by a wispe of straw, or hay. Perhaps, Edward means one of these wisps, as the denotement of a menial servant. Barrett adds, that, like a ruase, it signifies “ a wreath to be laied under the vessel that is borne upon the head, as women use." If this be its true sense, the prince may think that such a trisp would better become the head of Margaret, than a crown. Mr. Steevens afterwards adds, that “a wispe was the punishinent of a scold.” Callat, a lewd wonan, a drab.
And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoop;! So underneath the belly of their steeds,
War. Then let the carth be drunken with our And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day : 5
blood: Exen then that sun-shine brew'd a shower for him, l'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. Mailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage : For what hath broach'd this tunult, but thy pride? And look upon, as if the tragedy Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; 10 Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors ? And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Here on my knee I vow to God above, llad slipt our claim until another age.
I'll never pause again, never stand still, Cla. But, when we saw our sun-shine made 'Till either death hath clos’d these eyes of mine, thy spring,
Or fortune given me measure of revenge. And that thy summer bred us no increase, 15 Edw. 0 Warwick, I do bend my knee with We set the axe to thy usurping root :
thine; And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine. Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, We'll never leave, 'till we have hewn thee down, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thec, Or hath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. 20 Thou setter up, and plucker down of kings !
Ed. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Besecching thee,-it with thy will it stands, Not willing any further conference,
That to my foes this body must be prey,Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.– Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave!- And give sweet passage to my sinful soul !And either victory, or else a grave.
25 Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Queen. Stay, Edward.
Where-e'er it be, in heaven, or on carth. Edw. No, wrangling wonian, I'll no longer Rich. Brother, give me thy hand :-and, gentle stay:
Warwick, Thy words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
[Ereunt. (301, that did never weep, now melt with woe,
That winter should cut off our spring-time so. SCENE III.
War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, A Field rf Battle, near Toreton in Yorkshire.
farewell. Alurum. Excursions. Enter Warwick.
Cla. Yet let us all together to our troops ; War. Forspent' with toil, as runners with a 35 And give them leave to fly that will not stay; race,
And call them pillars, that will stand to us; I lay me down a little while to breathe :
And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards For strokes receiv'd, and many blows ri-paid, As victors wear at the Olympian games: Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; strength,
40 For yet is hope of lite, and victory: And, spight of spight, needs must I rest awhile. Forc-slow2 no longer, make we hence amain. Enter Edward, running.
[Ereunt. Edr. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle
SCENE IV. death! Forthis world frowns,and Edward's sunisclouded. 45
Another Part of the Field. Hur. How now, my lord? what hap? what Excursions. Enter Richard, and Clifford. hope of good
Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: Enter Clarence.
Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, Cla. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair;
And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: 50 Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone : Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York; wings;
And this the hand, that slew thy brother Rutland; And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, Enter Richard.
55 And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and broRich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn To execute the like upon thyself; [ther, thyself?
And so, have at thee. Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hathr drunk, [They fight. Warwick enters, Clifford fies. Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance: Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other And, in the very pangs of death, he cry'd, 1601
chace; like to a dismal clangor heard from far, For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. "Warwick,revenge! brother,revenge my death!")
[Exeunt. : i. e. wasted, tired. * To fore-slow implies to be dilatory, to loiter. Rr3
Alarum. Enter a Son that had killed his Father. Another Part of the Field.
Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits no-body.
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, Alarum. Enter King Henry.
May be possessed of some store of crowns : K. Henry. This battle fares like to the niorn- 5 And I, that haply take them from him now, ing's war,
May yet cre night yield both my life and them When dying clouds contend with growing light; To some man else, as this dead man doth me. What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Who's this?-Oh God! it is my father's face, Can néither call it perfect day, nor night.
Whom in this conflict I unawares have killd. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 10 Oh heavy times, begetting such évents ! Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind : From London by the king was I press'd forth; Now sways it that way, like the self-same sta My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind:
Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; Sometime, the flood prevails; and then the wind; And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, Now, one the better; then, another best : 15 Have by my hands of life bereaved him.Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did !Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered:
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee ! So is the equal poise of this fell war.
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; Here on this mole-hill will I sit me down. And no more words, 'till they have tlow'd their To whom God will, there be the victory!
[times ! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
K. Henry. Opiteous spectacle! O bloody Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, They prosper best of all when I am thence. Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity:'Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so:
Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; For what is in this world, but grief and woe? 25 And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, O God! methinks it were a happy life,
Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with To be no better than a homely swain;
grief'. To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
Enter a Father, bearing his Son. To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Fath. Thou that so stoutly bast resisted me, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: 30 Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold ; How many make the hour full complete, For I have bought it with an hundred blows.How many hours bring about the day,
But let me see:- Is this our foeman's face? How many days will finish up the year, Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son ! How many years a mortal man may livé. Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, When this is known, then to divide the time: 35 Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise, So many hours must I tend my flock;
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart So many hours must I take my rest;
Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart! So many hours must I contemplate;
O, pity, God, this miserable age ! -
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
K. Henry. Woe above woe! grief more than
O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity !Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade The red rose and the white are on his face, To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, The fatal colours of our striving houses: 'I ban doth a rich embroider'd canopy 50 The one, his purple blood right well resembles, To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? The other, his pale cheek, methinks, presenteth: O, yes, it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! And to conclude,—the shepherd's homely curds, If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. His cold thin drink out of his leather botile, Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, llis wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 5: Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfy'd! All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Futh. How will my wife, forslaughter of my son, Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
Shed scas of tears, and ne'er be satisfy'd! His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
K. Henry. How will the country, for these His body couched in a curious bed,
woeful chances, When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. Co Mis-think' the king, and not be satisfy'd !
* The meaning of the king is, that the state of their hearts and eyes shall be like that of the kingdom in a ciril war, all shall be destroyed by a power formed within themselves. ? i.e. He should have ione it by not bringing thee into being, to make both father and son thus miserable. To nis-think is to think ill, unfavourably.
San with care,
Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death? And thou this day had'st kept thy throne in peace.
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. 5 No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: Son. I'll bear thec hence, where I may weep
The foe is merciless, and will not pity; my till.
[Exit, with the boxlij. And, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity. Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy wind- The air hath got into my deadly wounds, ing-sheet;
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint:My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre;
10 Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. I stabb’d your father's bosoms, split my breast. My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
(He faints. And so obsequious' will thy father be,
Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edzard, Clarence, Sad for the loss of thee, having no more,
Richard, Montague, Warwick, and Soldiers. As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
15 Edłu. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,
bids us pause,
[looks. For I have murder'd where I should not kill.
and smooth the frowns of war with peaceful
[Exit, with the body. Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ;K. Henry. Sad-hearted inen, much overgone
That led calin Henry, though he were a king,
20 As doth a sail, fill’d with a fretting gust, Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
Command an argosy to stem the waves. Alurums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, Prince But think you, lords, that Clifford flew with them? of Ifales, and Ercter.
War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape : Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are For, though before his face I speak the word, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: [tled, -5 Your brother Richard inark'd him for the grave; Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. Queen. Mount you, iny lord, towards Berwick
[Clifford groans, and dies. post ainain:
Edre. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
[parting. Having the fearsul flying hare in sight, 30 Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's deWith ficry eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
Ediv. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, And bloody steel grasp d in their ireful hands, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd. Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Ere. Away! for vengeance coines along with
Clifford : them:
135 Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, Or else come after, l'il away before. [Exeter. But set his murdering knife unto the root K. Henry. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet
From whence that tenderspray did sweetly spring, Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
I mean, our princely father, duke of York. Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! 140 l’ar. Froin off the gates of York fetch down
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there : SCENE VI.
Instead whereof, let his supply the room: A loud Alarum. Enter Clifford, wounded. Measure for measure must be answered. [house, Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, 15 Edw. Bring forth that fatal scritch-owl to our Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. That nothing sung but death to us and ours : Ah, Lancaster! I fear thine overthrow,
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, More than my body's parting with my soul. And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. My love and tear glew'd many friends to thee;
[Attendants bring the brey forward. And, now I fall, thy tough commixture inelts, 150 War. I think his understanding is bereft:Impairing llenry, strength’ning mis-proud York. Say, Clifford, dost thou know who speakstothee? The common people swarın like summer flics : Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And whither tíy the gnats, but to the sun?
And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. And who shines now, but Henry's enemy?
Rich. O, would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; O Phæbus! hadst thou never given consent 155'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts Thy burning car had never scorch'd the earth: As in the time of death he gave our father. And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, Cla. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager ? And as thy father, and his father, did,
words. Giving no ground unto the house of York, 160 Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. They never then had sprung like summer flies- Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. I, and ten thousand in this luckless realın,
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. Had left no mourning widows for our deaths, Cla. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. Obsequious here implies careful of obsequies, or of funeral rites. ?i. e. Sour, harsh words. Rr4