SCENE 11-A room in Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire. Enter Edward, Richard, and Montague. Edward 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, • Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me With powerful policy strengthen themselves, leave. Edw. No, I can better play the orator. York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a 'What is your quarrel? how began it first? Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention. York. About what? Rich. About that which concerns your grace, and us; The crown of England, father, which is yours. York. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be dead. * Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death. I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year. 'Rich. No; God forbid, your grace should be forsworn. York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. • York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. Rich An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate, That hath authority over him that swears: Henry 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, *How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; * Within 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 died Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die. 'Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk, And tell him privily of our intent. You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, With whom the Kentish-men will willingly rise: In them I trust; for they are soldiers, 'Witty and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.'While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, But 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? Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls and lords, Intend here to besiege you in your castle : She is hard by with twenty thousand men; And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. *York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou, that we fear them? (1) Of sound judgment. *And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. *Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not: *And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [Ex. Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. York. Sir John, and sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles! You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; The army of the queen mean to besiege us. Sir John. She shail not need, we'll meet her in the field. 'York. What, with five thousand men? Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general; what should we fear? [A march afar off. ་ 'Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in order; And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. 'York. Five men to twenty-though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France, When as the enemy hath been ten to one; Why should I not now have the like success? [Alarum. Exeunt. SCENE III-Plains near Sandal Castle. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Rutland, and his Tutor. Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands? Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes! Enter Clifford, and Soldiers. Clif Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man. [Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Clif How now! is he dead already? Or, is it fear, That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open them. 'Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws: And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; And 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. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die ;am too mean a subject for thy wrath, Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again; He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine, Were not revenge sufficient for me; And till I root out their accursed line, And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore [Lifting his hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death:To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me! Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me? Clif. Thy father hath. Ah, let me live in prison all my days; Then let me die, for new thou hast no cause. Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet!" And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. [Exit. SCENE IV.-The same. Alarum. Enter York. York. 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, 'Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. My sons-God knows, what hath bechanced them: But this I know, they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown, by life, or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me; In blood of those that had encounter'd him: And cried,-A crown, or else a glorious tomb! 'Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? Clif. So 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. York. O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And in thy thought o'er-run 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. Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word; But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. Come, make him stand upon this mole-hill here; And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling voice, Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? 3 I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York: Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails, That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? *Why art thou patient, man? thou should'st be mad; *And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport; York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.A crown for York; and, lords, bow low to him.Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.[Putting a paper crown on his head. (3) i. e. We boggled, made bad or bungling work of our attempt to rally. (4) Noontide point on the dial. (5) Honest men, (6) Reached. (7) Handkerchief. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his head: York. She-wolf of France, but worse than "Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates? I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush: Thy father bears the types of king of Naples, That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion.5 O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. 'Bid'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: Would'st have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; And every drop cries vengeance for his death, And I with tears do wash the blood away. (He gives back the handkerchief. And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, curse; And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord Northum- Think but upon the wrong he did us all, Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. [Exeunt. The happy tidings of his good escape.- *Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; "'Gainst thee, fell Clifford,-and thee, false French-* So far'd our father with his enemies; But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. heard of. I think, it cites us, brother, to the field; Each one already blazing by our meeds,! 'His dukedom and his chair with me is left. War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what 'Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, Rich. Nay, bear three daughters;-by your The words would add more anguish than the leave I speak it, *You love the breeder better than the male/ 6 Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen: 'Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite; wounds. O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. 3 War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears: And now, to add more measure to your woes, Bearing the king in my behalf along: sion. Short tale to make,-we at Saint Albans met, They took his head, and on the gates of York thee! Now my soul's palace is become a prison: Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. I cheer'd 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, So that we fled; the king, unto the queen; Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart:In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, O never, shall I see more joy. For in the marches here, we heard, you were, Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle And when came George from Burgundy to Eng- War. Some six miles off the duke is with the And for your brother, he was lately sent Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant War- Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear: For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak. you out; And therefore comes my brother Montague. Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick speak: Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, That cries-Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; And when thou fall'st (as God forbid the hour!) Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend! War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; 'The next degree is, England's royal throne: But sound the trumpets, and about our task. as steel *(As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,) * I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. *Edw. Then strike up, drums ;-God, and Saint George, for us! Enter a Messenger. War. How now? what news? SCENE II-Before York. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, the Prince of Wales, Clifford, and Northumberland, with forces. Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, To see this sight, it irks my very soul.- Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity, Which argued thee a most unloving father. Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight,) Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; my great-grandfather and grandsire got, But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,- As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. 'You promis'd knighthood to our forward son; Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently.-. Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by Edward, kneel down. me, K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; |