Imágenes de páginas

*To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?
* O, yes it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
*And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
* His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
* His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
* All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
*Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
*His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
*His body couched in a curious bed,"
*When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him.
Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father,
dragging in the dead body.

Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much
Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep
my fill.
[Exit, with the body.
*Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy wind.

Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody.-
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,

*My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre;
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go.
*My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
And so obsequious will thy father be,
*Sad for the loss of thee, having no more,
*As Priam was for all his valiant sons.


'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!

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 *To some man else, as this dead man doth me.-I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, 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.


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 body in his arms.

Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, 'Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold;

For I have bought it with a hundred blows.'But let me see:-is this our foeman's face?

Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!-
Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,
*Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise,
* Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,
*Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart!-
O, pity, God, this miserable age!-
'What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
'Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,

This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!-
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!
K. Hen. Wo above wo! grief more than com-
mon grief!

'K. Hen. How will the country, for these woful chances,

Misthink? the king, and not be satisfied?

'Son. Was ever son, so rued a father's death?
'Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son?
'K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects'

O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! *O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses: * The one, his purple blood right well resembles; *The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present: Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!

If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied?

Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my

son, 'Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied?

(1) This word here means dreadful events. (2) Think unfavourably of.


'Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends
are fled,

'And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:
Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.
'Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Ber-
wick post amain :
Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with
them :

Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;
Or else come after, I'll away before.

K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet

'Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
'Whither the queen intends. Forward; away!
SCENE VI-The same. A loud alarum. En-
ter Clifford, wounded.


Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies,
Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light.
O, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,
More than my body's parting with my soul.
My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee;
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.
The common people swarm like summer flies:
Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,
And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henry's enemics?
O Phoebus! hadst thou never given consent
That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth;
Or as thy father, and his father, did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,
*They never then had sprung like summer flies;
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
Had left no mourning widows for our death,
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold, but too much

(3) Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites.

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Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds 'No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: The foe is merciless, and will not pity; For, at their hands, I have deserv'd 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; 'I stabb'd your father's bosom, split my breast. [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.

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.

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'Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard,

'When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath:-
I know by that, he's dead; And, by my soul,
If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
That I in all despite might rail at him,

This hand should chop it off; and with the isStifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst suing blood York and young Rutland could not satisfy. War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's head,

War. They mock thee, Clifford! 'swear as thou

wast wont.

And rear it in the place your father's stands.-
And now to London with triumphant march,
There to be crowned England's royal king.
From 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

The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again;
For 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 Britany I'll cross the sea, To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be: *For on thy shoulder do I build my seat; And never will I undertake the thing, *Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster :And George, of Clarence ;-Warwick, as ourself, Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of Gloster; For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. War. Tut, that's a foolish observation; Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London, To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt.

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SCENE I-A chase in the north of England. Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands.

Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.3*
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
Ruh. Thou didst love York, and I am son to

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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.
*Here stand we both, and aim we at the best :
And, for the time shall not seem tedious,
* I'll tell thee what befell me on a day,

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;


'1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake1 we’li shroud ourselves;

(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. *2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon


*1 Keep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a little* Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. *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,

for aid;

*Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
*And yielding to another when it blows,
*Commanded always by the greater gust;
*Such is the lightness of you common men.

But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin *My 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. *1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king Edward.

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

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*K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king of England?

*2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now

*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
To go along with us: for, as we think,
You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd;
And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
Will apprehend you as his enemy.
*K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break
an oath?
*2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not



*K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old;

My father and my grandfather, were kings; * And you were sworn true subjects unto me: *And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths?

* 1 Keep. No;

For we were subjects, but while you were king.
*K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe
a man?

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K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit; And come some other time, to know our mind.

L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook

May it please your highness to resolve me now;
And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.
'Glo. [Aside.] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant
you all your lands,

An if what pleases him, shall pleasure you.
Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow.
*Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.
*Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take vantages.

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Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. [Glo. and Clar. retire to the other side. *K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?

*L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. *K. Edw. And would you not do much, to do them good?

* L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

*K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to do them good.

*L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. * L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness' service.

*K. Edw. what service wilt thou do me, if I
give them?

*L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me
to do.
*K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my

*K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind.

* L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive

Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. *L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.

K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.

L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower;

For by that loss I will not purchase them.

K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily.

L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them and me.

K. Edw. An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.

K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely
give thee.

L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand
Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a
'K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I


*L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.

K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? 'L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;

That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants. K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.

*L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.

(1) This phrase implies readiness of assent.

But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadness2 of my suit;
Please you dismiss me, either with ay, or no.

K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt say ay, to my request:
No; if thou dost say no, to my demand.

L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an

'Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her
Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.

'K. Edw. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her re-
plete with modesty;

I am a subject fit to jest withal, *L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot|But far unfit to be a sovereign. do it. *K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.

*L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace commands.

the marble.

*Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears
*Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must
L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear
my task?

* Her words do show her wit incomparable;
*All her perfections challenge sovereignty:
One way, or other, she is for a king;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.-
Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen?
L. Grey. Tis better said than done, my gracious

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to

I speak no more than what my soul intends;
And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield


I know, I am too mean to be your queen;
And yet too good to be your concubine.

K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean, my


L.Grey. Twill grieve your grace, my sons should call you-father.

K. Edw. No more, than when thy daughters
call thee mother.

Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children;
And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
Clar. When he was made a shriver, 'twas for
K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two
have had.
*Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad,
K. Edw. You'd think it strange if I should marry

Clar. To whom, my lord?
K. Edw.
Why, Clarence, to myself.
Glo. That would be ten days' wonder, at the least.
Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.

Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes.

(2) The seriousness.

K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; both,

Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.
Enter a Nobleman.

Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken,
And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.
K. Edw. See, that he be convey'd unto the
Tower :-

And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart;
*And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
*And frame my face to all occasions.
*I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
*I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
*And, like a Sinon, take another Troy:
I can add colours to the cameleon;
Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,
And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school.
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut! were it further off, I'll pluck it down. [Exit.
SCENE III-France. A room in the palace.
Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, and
Lady Bona, attended; the king takes his state.
Then enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward
her son, and the Earl of Oxford.

'K. Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy Mar-

Sit down with us; it ill befits thy state,

And birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit.

* Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France; now

*Must strike her sail, and learn a while 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,
*And with dishonour laid me on the ground;
*Where I must take like seat unto my fortune,
*And to my humble seat conform myself.
*K. Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs
this deep despair?

*Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes
with tears,

*And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in


*K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, *And sit thee by our side: yield not thy neck [Seats her by him. *To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind *Still ride in triumph over all mischance. *Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; *It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief.

* Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my
drooping thoughts,

*And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
*Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,-
*That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
*Is, of a king, become a banish'd man,
*And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn;
*While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York,
*Usurps 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,--
Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid;
And, 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 seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight,
*And, as thou see'st, ourselves in heavy plight.
*K. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience calm

And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To question of his apprehension.-
Widow, go you along;-Lords, use her honourable.
[Exeunt King Edward, Lady Grey, Clarence,
and Lord.

Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably.
Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
To cross me from the golden time I look for!
And yet, between my soul's desire, and me,
*(The lustful Edward's title buried,)

Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: A cold premeditation for my purpose! *Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty; *Like one that stands upon a promontory, *And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, *Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; *And 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; *And so I chide the means that keep me from it; * And so I say-I'll cut the causes off, * Flattering me with impossibilities. * My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, * Unless my hand and strength could equal them. *Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; *What other pleasure can the world afford? 'I'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.
'O miserable thought! and more unlikely,

Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
Why, 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
• To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;

To shape my legs of an unequal size;
*To disproportion me in every part,
*Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp,
*That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be belov'd?
'O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought!
*Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
* But to command, to check, to o'erbear such
*As are of better person than myself,
*I'll make my heaven-to dream upon the crown;
*And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
*Until my misshap'd trunk that bears this head,
* Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
* And yet I know not how to get the crown,
*For 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;
*Seeking a way, and straying from the way;
*Not knowing how to find the open air,
*But toiling desperately to find it out,-
*Torment myself to catch the English crown:
*And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.

(1) Encircled.

the storm, *While we bethink a means to break it off. *Q. Mar. The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.

*K. Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succour


* Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on true


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