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Cliff. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the | To, triumph, like an Amazonian trull, gin.
Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates ? North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging,
[York is taken prisoner. Made impudent with use of evil deeds, York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blustı : booty;
To tell cdee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd, So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd. Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou North. What would your grace have done un
not shameless. to him now?
(umberland, Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford, and North- Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem; Come, make him stand upon this molehill here; Yet not so wealthy as an English yoeman. That raught at mountains with outstretch'd arms, Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. - It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen ; What! was it you, that would be England's Unless the adage must be verified,.
That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. Was't you, that reveli'd in our parliament, 'Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud And made a preachment of your high descent? But God he knows, thy share thereof is small: Where are your mess of sons to back you now? 'Tis virtue, that doth make them most admir'd; The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at : And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, 'Tis government, that makes them seem divine ; Dicky, your boy, that, with his grumbling voice, The want thereof makes them aboininable : Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ?
Thou art as opposite to every good, Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland ? | As the Antipodes are unto us, Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the Or as the south to the septentrion. blood
0, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the Made issue from the bosom of the boy :
child, And, if thine eyes can water for his death, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ? Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ; I should lament thy miserable state.
Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. I pr’ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York: Bid'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
(will: What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine en- Would'st have me weep? why, now thou bast thy trails,
For raging wind blows up incessant showers, That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ? And when the rage allays, the rain begins. Why art thou patient, man ? thou should'st.be These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies :
And every drop cries vengeance for his death,And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford,—and thee, false FrenchThou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport;
[so, York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. North. Beshrew me, but his passions more me A crown for York ;-and, lords, bow low to That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. him.
York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Hold you bis hands, whilst I do set it on. Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd
(putting a paper crown on his head. with blood : Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king ! But you are more inhuman, more inexorable.Ay, this is he that took king Henry's chair ; O, ten times more,—tban tigers of Hyrcania. And this is he was his adopted heir.
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears : But how is it, that great Plantagenet
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath ? And I with tears do wash the blood away. [boy, As I bethink me, you should not be king, Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this : Till our king Henry hath shook hands with death.
(he gives back the handkerchief. And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, And rob his temples of the diadem,
Upon my soul, the bearers will shed tears ; Now in his life, against your holy onth?
Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, O, 'tis a fault, too too unpardonuble !
And say,-Alas, it was a piteous deed!Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his There, take the crown, and, with the crown, mr head;
curse ; And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him And, in thy need, such comfort come to tboo,
Cliff. That is my office, for my father's sake. As now I reap at thy too cruel hand !Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world; makes.
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! York. She-wolf of France, but worse than North. Had he been slaughterman to all my wolves of France,
(tooth! kin, Whose tongue 'more poisons than the adder's I should not for my life but weep with him, How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex,
To see how inly sorrow gripes his souch
Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord North- York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! umberland ?
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
įdies. And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York Cliff. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's gates; death.
[stabbing him. So York may overlook the town of York. Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-bcarted
ACT II. SCENE 1. A PLAIN NEAR MORTIMER'S CROSS IN Edw. O, speak no more! for I bave heard HEREFORDSHIRE.
too much. Drums. Enter Edward and Richard, with their Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. Forces, marching
Mess. Environed he was with many fues ; Edw. I wonder, how our princely father 'scap'd; And stood against them as the hope of Troy Or whether he be 'scap'd away, or no,
Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit;
Troy. Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; Had he been slain, we should have heard the And many strokes, though with a little axe, news ;
Hew down and fell the bardest-timber'd oak. Or, had he scap'd, methinks, we should have heard By many hands your father was subdu'd; The happy tidings of bis good escape.
But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm How fares my brother ? why is he so sad ? Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen : Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd
Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite ; Where our right valiant father is bocome. Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief be. I saw him in the battle range about;
wept, And watch'd him, how he singled Clifford forth. The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, Methought, he borc him in the thickest troop, A napkin steeped in the harmless blood As doth a lion in a herd of neat:
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain : Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, Who, having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, They took his head, and on the gates of York The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. They set the same; and there it doth remain, So far'd our father with his enemies;
The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. (upon ; So fled his enemies my warlike father ;
Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay !See, how the morning opes her golden gates, O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! The flower of Europe for bis chivalry; How well resembles it the prime of youth, And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love! For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three thee!suns?
[sun; Now my soul's palace has become a prison : Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect Ah, would she break from hence ! that this my Not scparated with the racking clouds,
Might in the ground be closed up in rest : [body But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
For never henceforth shall I joy again, See, sce! they join, embrace, and seein to kiss, Never, O vever, shall I see more joy. As if they vow'd some league inviolable:
Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: In this the heaven figures some event.
Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden; Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never For self-same wind, that I should speak witbal, heard of.
Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, [quench. I think, it cites us, brother, to the field;
And burn me up with flames, that tears would That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: Each one already blazing by our meeds,
Tears, then, for babes : blows, and revenge, Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together, for me!And over-shine the earth, as this the world, Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Or die renowned by attempting it.
(with thec; Upon my target three fair shining suus.
Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left Rich. Nay, bear three daughters ;-by your His dukedom and his chair with me is left. leave I speak it,
Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, You love the breeder better than the male. Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : Enter a Messenger.
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say ; But what art thou, whose beavy looks foretel Either that is thine, or else thou wert not liis. Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue ? March. Enter Warwick and Montague, with Forces
Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker on, War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what When as the noble duke of York was slain,
[count Your princely father, and my loving lord.
Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should ta
Stal poinards in our desh cili eder der det
Var baleful' news, and, at each word's deliverance, \ 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak.
But, in this troublous time, what's to be done? The words would add more anguish than the Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, wounds.
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. :
Numb'ring our Ave-Marias with our beads? Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, Or shall we on the helmets of our foes. Wbich held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. (tears: If for the last, say— Ay, and to it, lords. War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in
War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek And now, to add more measure to your woes,
you out; I como to'tell you things since then befall’n. And therefore comes my brother Montague. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, With Clifford, and the baoght Northumberland, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, And, of their feather, many more proud birds, Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. Have wrought the easy.melting king like was. 1, then in London, keeper of the king,
He swore consent to your succession, Master'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, His oath enrolled in the parliament ; And very well appointed, as I thought,
And now to London all the crew are gone, March'd towards St. Albans, to intercept the To frustrate both his oath, and what beside Bearing the king in my behalf along: [queen, May make against the house of Lancaster. For by my scouts I was advertised,
I think, is thirty thousand strong: That she was coming with a full intent
Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, [March To dash our late decree in parliament,
With all the friends that thou, brave earl of Touching King Henry's oath, and your succession. Amongst the loving Welchmen canst procure, Short tale to make, - we at St. Albans met, Will but arnount to five and twenty thousand, Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought : Why, via! to London will we march amain; But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, And once again bestride our foaming steeds, Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, And once again cry-Charge upon our foes! Tbat rubb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen ; But never once again turn back, and fly. Or whether 'twas report of her success ;
Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great WerOr more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,
wick speak: Who thunders to his captives— blood and death Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth, That cries-- Retire, if Warwick bid bim stay. Their weapons like to lightning came and went; Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I Our soldiers-like the night-owl's lazy fight, Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail,
And when thou fall'st, (as God forbid the hour!) Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend! I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, War. No longer earl of March, but duke of With promise of high pay, and great rewards :
York ; But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, The next degree is; England's royal throne: And we, in them, no hope to win the day, For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd So that we fled; the king unto the queen ; In every borough as we pass' aloug ; Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, And be, that throws not up his cap for joy, In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. For, in the marches here, we heard you were King Edward, -valiant Richard, -Montague, Making another bead to fight again.
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle But sound the trumpets, and about our task. Warwick ?
Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard And wben came George from Burgundy to Eng-, as steel, War. Some six miles off the duke is with the (As thou hast shown it finty by thy deeds) soldiers;
I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. And for
for your brother,-he was lately sept Edw. Tben strike up, drums:--God, and saint From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy,
George, for us! With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
Enter a Messenger. Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant War. War. How now? what news?
[me, Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, [wick fled: Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire.
The queen" is coming with a puissant host; War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou And craves your company for speedy counsel. hear :
mine War. Why then it sorts, Þrave warriors ; let's for thou shalt know, this strong right hand of away.
[ereink C'an pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful sceptre from his fist; Enter King Henry, Queen Margarel, the Prince of Were he as famous and as bold in war,
Wales, Clifford, and Northumberland, with Furies. As lie is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer. Q. Mar, Welcome, my lord, to this brave towo Rich. I know it well, lord Warwick : blame
That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: Caff. Why, that is spoken like a toward prinos. Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord ?
Enter a Messenger. K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them, that fear Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness: their wreck:
For, with a band of thirty thousand men, To see this sight, it irks my very soul."
Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York; Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault, And, in the towns as they do march along, Not wittingly have I infring'd my vow.
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: Cliff. My gracious liege, this too much lenity, Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. And harmful pity, must be laid aside. -
Cliff. I would, your highness would depart the To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
(absent. Not to the beast that would usurp their den. The queen bath best success when you are Whose band is that the forest bear doth lick? Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to Not his, that spoils her young before her face.“
[I'll stay. Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore Not he, that sets his foot upon her back.
North. Be it with resolution then to fight. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. And hearten those that fight in your defence : Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
Unsheath your sword, good father: cry, Saint Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows:
George! He, but a duke, would have his son a king, March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, WatAnd raise his issue, like a loving sire;
wick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
si ici Which argued thee a most urloving father. And set thy diadem upon my head; Unreasonable creatures feed their young :
Or bide tbe mortal fortune of the field ? (hoy! And though mai's face be fearful to their eyes, Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king ? Which sometime they have us'd with fearful Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his flight)
I was adopted heir by his consent : Make war with him that climbid unto their nest, Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, Offering their own lives in their young's defence ? | You—that are king, though he do wear, the For shame, my liege, make them your precedent!
crown,Were it not pity, that this goodly boy
Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament, Should lose his birth-right by his father's fault? To blọt out me, and put his own son in. And long hereafter say unto his child, —
Clif. And reason too; What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, Who should succeed the father, but the son ! My careless futher fondly gave away!
Rich. Are you there, butcher ?—0, I cannot Ah, wbat a shame were this! Look on the boy;.. speak!
(thee, And let his manly face, which promiseth
Cliff. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, Or any he tbe proudest of thy sort. To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him, Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the
was it not? Inferring arguments of mighty force. [orator, Cliff. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,- Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the That things ill got had ever bad success?
'[the crown? And happy always was it for that son,
War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield Whose father for his boarding went to hell? Q. Mur. Why, how now, long-tongu'd WarI'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ;
wick? dare you speak ? And 'would, my father had left me no more! When you and I met at St. Albans last, For all the rest is held at such a rate,
Your legs did better service than your haud As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now us Than in possession any jot of pleasure.
tbine. Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know, Cliff. You said so much before, and yet you Åed. How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! War. 'Twas not your, valour, Clifford, drove Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our
me thence. foes are nigh,
North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
(rently ;You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ; Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee revo Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently.- Break off the parle ; for scarce I can refrain Edward, kneel down.
The execution of my big swoln beart K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; Upon that Clifford, that cruel child -killer. Apd learn this lesson,— Draw thy sword in right. Clif. I slew thy father : call'st thou him a
Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly cbild? 111 draw it as apparent to the crown. (leave, Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a trescherous and in that quarrel use it to the death.
SCENE III. A FIELD OF BATTLE BETWEEN TOWTON
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.
[stay: But, ere sunset, I'll make thee curse the deed. Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. hear me speak. [lips.
[ereunt. Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my
AND SAXTON, IN YORKSHIRE. I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. (tongue; Alarums : excursions. Enter Warwick. Cliff. My liege, the wound, that bred this War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a meeting here,
I lay me down a little while to breathe: (race, Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be stil]. For strokes receivid, and many blows repaid,
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: Have robb’d my strong-knit sinews of their By Him that made us all, I am resolvid,
strength, That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my rigbt, or no?
Enter Edward, running. A thousand men have broke their fasts this day, Edw. Smile, gentle heaven ! or strike, ungenThat ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown.
tle death !
(clouded! War. If thou deny, their blood upou thy head; For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is For York in justice puts his armour on. (is right, War. How now, my lord? what hap? what
Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says hope of good ? There is no wrong, but every thing is right.
Enter George. Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; stands;
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us : For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?
Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, Edw. Bootless is fight, they follow us with But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, (nor dam ; wings, Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.
Enter Richard. Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn Whose father bears the title of a king
thyself? (As if a channel should be call'd the sea), Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth bath drunk, Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art ex- Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance: traught,
And, in the very pangs of death, he cried, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,— Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand Warwich, revenge! brother, revenge my death! crowns,
So underneath the belly of their steeds, To make this shameless callet know herself.- That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. Although thy busband may be Menelaus;
War. Then let the earth be drunken with our And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd I'll kill my horse, because I will not iy. [blood : By that false woman, as this king by thee. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, His father revell'd in the heart of France, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoop; And look upon, as if the tragedy And, had he match'd according to his state, Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? He might have kept that glory to this day: Here on my knee I vow to God above, But, when, be took a beggar to his bed,
I'll never pause again, never stand still, And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day; Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, Or fortune given me measure of revenge. (thine; That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, Edw. O, Warwick, I do bend my knee with And hcap'd sedition on his crown at home. And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride? | And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart, to thee, And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Thou setter up and plucker down of kings! Had slipp'd our claim until another age.
Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands, Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made That to my fues this body must be prey, thy spring,
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, And that thy summer bred us no incrcase, And give sweet sage to my sinful soul !We set the axe to thy usurping root :
Now, lords, take leave, until we meet again, And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Where-e'er it be, in heaven, or on earth. Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, Rich. Brother, give me thy hand ;-—and, geoWe'll never leave, till we have hewu thee down,
tle Warwick, Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods. Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; I, that did never weep, now melt with woon Not willing any longer conference,
That winter should cut off our spring-timo so. Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.- War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lordo Sound trumpets!mlet our bloody colours wave!
farewell. And either victory, or else a grave.
Geo. Yet let us altogether to our troops.