Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture 30
Scarce ferves to quench my furnace-burning heart:
Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden;|
For felf-fame wind, that I should speak withal,
Is kindling coals, that fire all my breaft, [quench.
And burn me up with flames, that tears would 35
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,
Or die renowned by attempting it.

[thee; 40 From your kind aunt, dutchefs of Burgundy,
With aid of foldiers to this needful war.
Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick
Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne'er, till now, his fcandal of retire. [hear;

Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird,
Shew thy defcent by gazing 'gainst the fun :
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom fay;45
Either that is thine, or elfe thou wert not his.
March. Enter Warwick, Marquis of Montague,
and their army.

[count 50

War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what
news abroad?
Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we fhould re-
Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance,
Stab poniards in our flesh, 'till all were told,
The wordswould addmore anguish thanthewounds.
O valiant lord, the duke of York is flain.

Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet,
Which held thee dearly, as his foul's redemption,
Is by the ftern lord Clifford done to death'.

War. Ten days ago I drown'd thefe news in tears:
And now, to add more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things fince then betall'n.
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,

Dene to death for killed, was a common expreffion long before Shakspeare's time.

Attend me, lords. The proud infulting queen,
With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland,
And, of their feather, many more proud birds,
Have wrought the eafy-melting king like wax.
He swore confent to your fucceffion,
His oath enrolled in the parliament:
And now to London all the crew are gone,
To fruftrate both his oath, and what befide
May make against the house of Lancaster.
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong:
Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself,

With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March,
Amongst the loving Welfhmen can procure,
Will but amount to five and twenty thousand,
Why, Via! to London will we march amain;
And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
And once again cry-Charge upon the foe!
But never once again turn back, and fly.

Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I heard great War-
wick speak:

Ne'er may he live to fee a fun-fhine day,
That cries-Retire, when Warwick bids him ftay.
Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy fhoulder will I
lean;

And when thou fail'ft, (as God forbid the hour!)
Muft Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend !
War. No longer earl of March, but duke of
York;

The next degree is, England's royal king :
For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
In every borough as we pass along :
And he, that cafts not up his cap for joy,
Shall for the offence make forfeit of his head.
King Edward, valiant Richard,-Montague,-
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,
But found the trumpets, and about our task.

Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard
as fteel,

(As thou haft fhewn 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 Mejenger.

War. How now? what news?

[me,

To fee this fight, it irks my very foul.-
Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault,
Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow.

Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity, 5 And harmful pity, must be laid afide.

To whom do lions caft their gentle looks?
Not to the beaft that would ufurp their den.
Whofe hand is that, the foreft bear doth lick ?
Not his, that fpoils her young before her face.
to Who 'fcapes the lurking ferpent's mortal sting?
Not he, that fets his foot upon her back.

The fmalleft worm will turn, being trodden on;
And doves will peck, in fafeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
15Thou fmiling, while he knit his angry brows &
He, but a duke, would have his fon a king,
And raife his iffue, like a loving fire;
Thou, being a king, bleft with a goodly fon,
Didft yield confent to difinherit him,

20 Which argued thee a most unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young:
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes,
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not feen them (even with thofe wings
Which fometime they have us'd in fearful flight)
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest,
Offering their own lives in their young's defence?
For fhame, my liege, make them your precedent!
Were it not pity, that this goodly boy

25

30 Should lofe his birth-right by his father's fault;
And long hereafter fay unto his child,
"What my great grandfather and grandfire got,
My carelefs father fondly gave away?"
Ah, what a fhame were this! Look on the boy;
35 And let his manly face, which promifeth

40

Succefsful fortune, fteel thy melting heart,

To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. K. Henry. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator,

Inferring arguments of mighty force.

But, Clifford, tell me, didft thou never hear,
That things ill got had ever bad fuccefs?
And happy always was it for that fon,
Whofe father for his hoarding went to hell 3?
I'll leave my fon my virtuous deeds behind;
And 'would, my father had left me no more i
For all the reft is held at fuch a rate,
As brings a thoufand fold more care to keep,
Than in poffeffion any jot of pleasure. [know
5c Ah, coufin York! 'would thy beft friends did
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

Meff. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by 45
The queen is coming with a puissant host ;
And craves your company for fpeedy counfel.
War. Why then it forts2, brave warriors: Let's

55

Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy,
That fought to be encompass'd with your crown;
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? 1601
K. Henry. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear

their wreck ;

Queen. My lord, cheer up your fpirits; our foes
are nigh,

And this foft courage makes your followers faint.
You promis'd knighthood to our forward fon;
Unfheath your fword, and dub him presently.-
Edward, kneel down.

K. Henry. Edward Plantagenet, arife a knight;
And learn this leffon,-Draw thy fword in right.
Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave
I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,
And in that quarrel ufe it to the death.

i.e. high. 2 Meaning, Why then things are as they should be proverb of "Happy the child whofe father went to the devil."

Rra

3 This alludes to the common

Chf

[I'll stay.
K. Henry. Why, that's my fortune too: therefore
North. Be it with refolution then to fight. 15
Prince. My royal father, cheer thefe noble
lords,

And hearten thofe that fight in your defence:
Unfheath your fword, good father; cry, Saint
Gerge!

"March. Enter Edward, Clarence, Richard, War-
wick, Norfolk, Montagu, and Soldiers.
Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel

for grace,

And fet thy diadem upon my head;

Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

Queen. Go rate thy minions, proud infulting boy!

Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,

Before thy fovereign, and thy lawful king?

20

25

North. No, nor your manhood, that durft make
Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;
Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain
The execution of my big-fwoln heart
Upon that Clifford there, that cruel child-killer.
Clif. I flew thy father; Call'ft thou him a child?
Rich. Ay, like a daftard, and a treacherous
coward,

As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;
But, ere fun-fet, I'll make thee curfe the deed.
K. Henry. Have done with words, my lords,
and hear me speak.
[lips.
Queen. Defy them then, or elfe hold close thy
K. Henry. 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 meet

ing here,

Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy fword:
By Him that made us all, I am refolv`d3,
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

Edw. Say, Henry, fhall I have my right, or no?
A thousand men have broke their fafts to-day,
That ne'er fhall dine, unless thou yield the crown.
War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head;

Edw. I am his king, and he fhould bow his 30 For York in juftice puts his armour on.

knee;

35

To blot out me, and put his own fon in.

Clif. And reafon too;

Who fhould fucceed the father, but the fon?
Rich. Art thou there, butcher?-O, I cannot
Speak!

[thee, 40

Chif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer Or any he the proudest of thy fort.

Rich. "Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was

it not?

Cf. Ay, and old York, and yet not fatisfy'd.
Rich. For God's fake, lords, give fignal to the
fight.
[the crown?

War. What fay'ft thou, Henry, wilt thou yield]
Queen. Why, how now, long-tongu`d Warwick?
dare you speak?

When you and I met at Saint Alban's laft,
Your legs did better service than your hands2.
War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis
thine.

Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says
is right,

There is no wrong, but every thing is right.
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother
ftands;

For, well I wot, thou haft thy mother's tongue.
Queen. But thou art neither like thy fire, nor
dam;

But like a foul mis-shapen ftigmatic 4,
Mark'd by the deftinies to be avoided,

As venom'd toads, or lizards' dreadful ftings.

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt 5, Whofe father bears the title of a king, (As if a channel should be call'd the sea, [traught, 45 Sham'ft thou not, knowing whence thou art exTo let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?

That is, Range your hoft. 2 Alluding to the proverb, "One pair of heels is worth two pair of hands." 3. e. it is my firm perfuafion. 4 A figmatic is faid 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 punishment. s Gift is a fuperficial covering of gold. 6 Mr. Steevens comments on this paffage thus: Barrett in his Alvearic, or Quadruple Dictionary, 1580, interprets the word wipe by peniculus, which fignifies any thing to wipe or cleanfe with; a cook's linen apron, &c. Pewter is ftill fcoured by a wifpe of straw, or bay. Perhaps, Edward means one of thefe wip, as the denotement of a menial fervant. Barrett adds, that, like a wafe, it fignifies “a wreath to be laied under the veffel that is borne upon the head, as women ufe." If this be its true fenfe, the prince may think that such a wifp would better become the head of Margaret, than a croton." Mr. Steevens afterwards adds, that "a wipe was the punishment of a fcold." 7 Callat, a lewd woman, a drab.

And

And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoop;
And, had he match'd according to his state,
He might have kept that glory to this day:
But, when he took a beggar to his bed,
And grac'd thy poor fire with his bridal day;
Even then that fun-fhine brew'd a fhower for him,
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,
And heap'd fedition on his crown at home.
For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride?
Hadft thou been meek, our title still had flept;
And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had flipt our claim until another age.

Cla. But, when we faw our fun-fhine made
thy spring,

And that thy fummer bred us no encrease,
We fet the axe to thy ufurping root:

And though the edge hath fomething hit ourselves,
Yet know thou, fince 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 refolution, I defy thee;
Not willing any further conference,
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.-
Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave!-
And either victory, or else a grave.

Queen, Stay, Edward.

Edw. No, wrangling woman, I'll no longer stay:

Thy words will coft ten thousand lives to-day.

5

So underneath the belly of their steeds,

That ftain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
The noble gentleman gave up the ghoft.

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our
blood:

I'll kill my horfe, because I will not fly.
Why ftand we like foft-hearted women here,
Wailing our loffes, whiles the foe doth rage:
And look upon, as if the tragedy

10 Were play'd in jeft by counterfeiting actors?
Here on my knee I vow to God above,
I'll never paufe again, never stand still,
"Till either death hath clos'd thefe eyes of mine,
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

151

Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with
thine;

And, in this vow, do chain my foul to thine.-
And, ere my knee rife from the earth's cold face,
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee.
20 Thou fetter up, and plucker down of kings!
Befeeching thee,-if with thy will it ftands,
That to my foes this body must be prey,—
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,
And give fweet paffage to my fintul foul!-
25 Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Where-e'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:-
[Excunt. 30I, that did never weep, now melt with woe,
That winter fhould cut off our fpring-time fo.
War. Away, away! Once more, fweet lords,

A Field of Battle, near Towton in Yorkshire.

Alarum. Excurfions. Enter Warwick.

I

farewel.

Cla. Yet let us all together to our troops;

War. Forfpent with toil, as runners with a 35 And give them leave to fly that will not ftay;

For this world frowns, and Edward's fun is clouded. 45
War. How now, my lord? what hap? what

hope of good?

Enter Clarence.

Cla. Our hap is lofs, our hope but fad despair;
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us:
What counsel give you? whither shall we fly?
Edw. Bootlefs is flight, they follow us with
wings;

And weak we are, and cannot fhun pursuit.
Enter Richard.

Rich. Ah, Warwick, why haft thou withdrawn
thyfelf?

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 cry`d,-
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,—
Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!"

SCENE

IV.

Another Part of the Field.

[Exeunt.

Excurfions. Enter Richard, and Clifford.
Rich. Now, Clifford, I have fingled thee alone:
Suppofe, this arm is for the duke of York,
And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge,
50 Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone:
This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York;
And this the hand, that flew thy brother Rutland;
And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death,
55 And cheers thefe hands, that flew thy fire and bro-
To execute the like upon thyself;
[ther,
And fo, have at thee.

60

[They fight. Warwick enters, Clifford flies. Rich. Nay, Warwick, fingle out fome other chace;

For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.

1 i. e. wafted, tired. 2 To fore-flow implies to be dilatory, to loiter.

Rr3

[Exeunt.

SCENE

Alarum. Enter a Son that bad killed his Father. Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits no-body. This man, whom hand to hand I flew in fight, May be poffeffed of fome store of crowns:

K. Henry. This battle fares like to the morning's 5 And I, that haply take them from him now,

O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!→→→
O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!

The red rofe and the white are on his face,
The fatal colours of our ftriving houfes :

50 The one, his purple blood right well resembles ;
The other, his pale cheek, methinks, prefenteth:
Wither one rofe, and let the other flourish!
If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
Sen. How will my mother, for a father's death,
55 Take on with me, and ne`er be satisfy'd!

Fath. How will my wife, for flaughter of my fon,
Shed feas of tears, and ne'er be fatisfy'd?

K. Henry. How will the country, for these woeful chances,

|60|Mif-think the king, and not be satisfy'd?

The meaning of the king is, that the state of their bearts and eyes fhall be like that of the kingdom in a civil war, all shall be destroyed by a power formed within themselves. 2 i. e. He should have done it by not bringing thee into being, to make both father and son thus miferable.