fortune. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. North. Be it with resolution then to fight. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George! March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, Warwick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers. Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head; *Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, 'Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king? Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent: Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, To blot out me, and put his own son in. thence. 'North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make you stay. Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;- As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; (1) i. e. Arrange your host, put your host in order. (2) It is my firm persuasion. (3) One branded by nature. (4) Gilt is a superficial covering of gold. K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue; I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting here, Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says There is no wrong, but every thing is right. But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?6 crowns, To make this shameless callet? know herself.- Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; And we, in pity of the gentle king, Had slipp'd our claim until another age. 'Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, We set the axe to thy usurping root: Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.Sound trumpets!-let our bloody colours wave!And either victory, or else a grave. Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay: (5) Kennel was then pronounced channel. (6) To show thy meanness of birth by thy indecent railing. (7) Drab. (8) i. e. A cuckold. These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. [Exeunt. SCENE III-A field of battle between Towton and Saxton in Yorkshire. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Warwick. 'War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe: For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while. Enter Edward, running. Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death! For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. War. How now, my lord? what hap? what hope of good? Enter George. *Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us : What counsel give you, whither shall we fly? Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. 'Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, "Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance: And, in the very pangs of death, he cried,"Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,— Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death! So underneath the belly of their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: actors? I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. *Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, *Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; *And look upon, as if the tragedy *Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting 'Here on my knee I vow to God above, I'll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, 'Or fortune given me measure of revenge. Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.* And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, *I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings! 6 Beseeching thee,-if with thy will it stands, That to my foes this body must be prey,'Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth. 'Rich. Brother, give me thy hand;—and, gentle Warwick, 'Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:I, that did never weep, now melt with wo, That winter should cut off our spring-time so. War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell. • Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars, that will stand to us; • And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards 'As victors wear at the Olympian games: (1) And are mere spectators. *This may plant courage in their quailing2 breasts; For yet is hope of life, and victory.*Fore-slow3 no longer, make we hence amain. [Exeunt. SCENE IV.-The same. Another part of the Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: This is the hand that stabb'd 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, To execute the like upon thyself; [They fight. Warwick enters; Clifford flies. Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exe. SCENE V-Another part of the field. Alarum. Enter King Henry. *K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's war, * When dying clouds contend with growing light; *What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, * Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea 'Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind: เ Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; Now, one the better; then, another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered: So is the equal poise of this fell war. *Here on this molehill will I sit me down. * To whom God will, there be the victory! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, They prosper best of all when I am thence. 'Would I were dead! if God's good will were so : For what is in this world, but grief and wo? * O God! methinks, it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely/swain; * To sit upon a hill, as I do now, *To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, * Thereby to see the minutes how they run: *How many make the hour full complete, * How many hours bring about the day, * How many days will finish up the year, *How many years a mortal man may live. *When this is known, then to divide the times: * So many hours must I tend my flock; *So many hours must I take my rest; *So many hours must I contemplate; * So many hours must I sport myself; *So many days my ewes have been with young; *So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; *So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: * So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, * Pass'd over to the end they were created, * Would 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 *To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, *Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy (2) Sinking into dejection. (3) To fore-slow is to be dilatory, to loiter. *To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? * When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him. Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody.'This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, 'May be possessed with some store of crowns: * And I, that haply take them from him now, *May yet ere night yield both my life and them K. Hen. How will the country, for these wo- Misthink? the king, and not be satisfied? my fill. Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much *My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; *To some man else, as this dead man doth me.-I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, Who's this?-O God! it is my father's face, "Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. 'O heavy times, begetting such events! From London by the king was I press'd forth; My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, press'd by his master: And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, 'Have by my hands of life bereaved him.'Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! And pardon, father, for I knew not thee !* My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; * And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. 'K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, 'Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.* Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; * And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, * Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief. Enter a Father who has killed his son, with the Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, 'O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. son, •Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied? (1) This word here means dreadful events. (2) Think unfavourably of. VOL. II. For I have murder'd where I should not kill. [Exit, with the body. 'K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, 'Here sits a king more woful than you are. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince of Wales, and Exeter. 'Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends 'And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: ་ Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; Not that I fear to stay, but love to go SCENE VI-The same. A loud alarum. Enter Clifford, wounded. Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, More than my body's parting with my soul. (3) Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites. Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; [He faints. Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edward, George, Richard, Montague, Warwick, and soldiers. Edw. Now 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, 'As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, 'Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them! War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape: For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: 'And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. [Clifford groans, and dies. Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.1 Edw. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd. 'Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford ; 'Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch 'In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, 'But set his murdering knife unto the root 'From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, 'I mean our princely father, duke of York. War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father's head, which Clifford placed there: 'Instead whereof, let this supply the room; Measure for measure must be answered. Which in the time of death he gave our father. Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.2 Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.3 Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now? And rear it in the place your father's stands.— So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again; And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be: For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. ACT III. [Exeunt For through this laund5 anon the deer will come; 'And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. *2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. *1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy crossbow *Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be past. Enter Henry, disguised, with a prayer-book. K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 'No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; (4) Thicket. (5) A plain extended between woods. *Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed: No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now, 'No humble suitors press to speak for right, * No, not a man comes for redress of thee; For how can I help them, and not myself? 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. *K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities; *For wise men say, it is the wisest course. For we were subjects, but while you were king. *2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon *K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe him. a man? *1 Keep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a little* Ah, simple men, you know not what *Look, as I blow this feather from my face, K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France* And as the air blows it to me again, more. for aid; And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward: If this news be true, 'Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost; "For Warwick is a subtle orator, And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. By this account, then, Margaret may win him; For she's a woman to be pitied much: *Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; *Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; *The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn; *And 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: She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry; He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says-her Henry is depos'd; He smiles, and says-his Edward is install'd; * That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no wrong, * Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; * And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, *With promise of his sister, and what else, *To strengthen and support king Edward's place. *O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, * Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn. 2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings and queens? 'K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to: A man at least, for less I should not be; And men may talk of kings, and why not I? 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. 'K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough. 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; *Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, * Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd, content; A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. 2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with Your crown content, and you, must be contented enemy. *K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an oath? *2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not док. you swear. *Obeying with my wind when I do blow, Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; * And be you kings; command, and I'll obey. * 1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king Edward. *K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, *If he were seated as king Edward is. 1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in the king's, To go with us unto the officers. 'K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd: *And what God will, then let your king perform; *And what he will, I humbly yield unto. [Exeunt. 'K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror: Her suit is now, to repossess those lands; Which we in justice cannot well deny, Because in quarrel of the house of York The worthy gentleman did lose his life. Glo. Your highness shall do well, to grant her suit; *It were dishonour, to deny it her. K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make a |