That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,

Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends,
Each one already blazing by our meeds,

And very well appointed, as I thought,
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together, March'd' towards Saint Albans to intercept the
And over-shine the earth, as this the world.

queen,
Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Bearing the king in my behalf along:
Upon my target three fair shining suns.

For by my scouts I was advertised,
Rich. Nay, bear three daughters ;-By your leave That she was coming with a full mtent
I speak it,

To dash our late decree in parliament,
You love the breeder better than the male. Touching king Henry's oath, and your succession.

Short tale to make, -we at St. Albans met,
Enter a MESSENGER.

Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought :
But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king,
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen,

Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker on, That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen ; When as the noble duke of York was slain,

Or whether twas report of her success; Your princely father, and my loving lord.

Or more than coinmon fear of Clifford's rigour, Edw. O, speak no more! for I have heard too Who thunders to his captives-blood and death, much.

I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth,
Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
Mess. Environed he was with many foes ;

Our soldiers-like the night-owl's lazy flight,
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy? Or like a lazy thrasher with a fail,
Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd Troy. Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
But Hercules himself mast yield to odds;

I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
And many strokes, though with a little axe, With promise of high pay, and great rewards:
Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak, But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight,
By many hands your father was subdued ;

And we, in them, no hope to win the day, But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm

So that we fled ; the king, unto the queen; or unrelenting Clifford, and the queen :

Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself,
Who crown'd the gracious duke, in high despight ; In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you ;
Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, For in the marches here, we leard, you were,
The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, Making another head to fight again.
A napkin steeped in the harınless blood

Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle War.
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain :

wick ? And, after many scorns, many foul taunts,

And when came George from Burgundy to England ? They took his head, and on the gates of York

War. Some six miles off the duke is with the They set the sanie; and there it doth remain,

soldiers ; The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.

And for your brother,-he was lately sent
Edu. Sweei duke of York, our prop to lean upon; From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy,
Now thou art gone, we have no staff', no stay !-- With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain

Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick
The flower of Earope for his chivalry;

fled : And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd But ne'er till now, his scandal of retire. thee!

War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou Now my soul's palace is become a prison :

hear; Ah, would she break from hence that this my body For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine Might in the ground be closed up in rest :

Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, For never henceforth shall I joy again,

And wring the awful sceptre from his tist;
Never, I never, shall I see more joy.

Were he as famous and as bold in war,
Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: Rich. I know it well, lord 'Warwick ; blame me
Nor can my tongue upload my heart's great burden ;

not ;
For self-same wind, that I should speak withall, 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak.
Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast,

But, in this troublous time, what's to be done? And burn me up with fames, that tears would | Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, quench.

And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, To weep, is to make less the depth of grief:

Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads ? Tears, then, for babes ; blows, and revenge, for Or shall we on the helmets of our foes mel

Tell our devotion with revengeful arms!
Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, If for the last, say- Ay, and io it, lords.
Or die renowned by attempting it.

War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you
Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with

out;
thee;

And therefore comes my brother Montague. His dukedom and his chair with me is left. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen,

Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, With Clifford, and the haught* Northumberland, Shew thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun ; And of their feather, many more proud birds, For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; Have wrought the easy melting king, like wax. Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. He swore consent to your succession,

His oath enrolled in the parliament;
March.-Enter Warwick and MONTAGUE, with

And now to London all the crew are gone,
Forces.

To frustrate both his oath, and what beside
War. How now, fair lords? What fare? What May make against the house of Lancaster.
news abroad!

Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong :
Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself,
Our baleful news, at each word's deliverance, With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March,
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, Amongst the loving Welchmen canst procure,
The words would add more anguish than the Will but amount to five and twenty thousand,
wounds.

Why, Via! To London will we march amain;
O vallant lord, the duke of York is slain.

And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, And once again cry-Charge upon our foes!
Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, But never once again turn back, and fy.
Is by the ster lord Clifford done to death ..

Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick
War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears :

speak :
And now, to add more measure to your woes, Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day,
I come to tell you things since then befall’n. That cries Retire, if Warwick bid hini stay.
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,

Edu. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean;
Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, And when thou fallst, (as God forbid the hour !)
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,

Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefendí
Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York;
I then in London, keeper of the king,

The next degree is, England's royal throne :
• Merit.
+ Hector.
* Killerle

• Lofty.

I'll stay

For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd l'nsheath your sword, and dub hiin presently,
In every borough as we pass along ;.

Edward, kneel down.
And he, that throws not up his cap for joy,

K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight;
Shall for the faut make forfeit of his headi.

And learn this lesson,-Draw thy sword in right.
King Edward, -valiant Richard,--Montague, Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,

I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,
But sound the trumpets, and about our task.

And in that quarrel use it to the death.
Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.

steel,
(As thou hast shewn it Ainty by thy deeds.)

Enter a MESSENGER.
I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.

Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness;
Edw. Then strike up, drums ;-God, and Saint For, with a band of thirty thousand men,
George, for us!

Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York;

And, in the towns as they do march along,
Enter a MESSENGER.

Proclaims him king, and many fly to bim :
War. How now? What news?

Darraign your battle for they are at hand.
Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by Clif. I would, your highness would depart the
me,

field ; The queen is coming with a puissant lost;

The queen hath best success when you are absent. And craves your company for speedy counsel. Q. Mar. Ay, good, my lord, and leave us to our War. Why then it sorts, brave warriors :- Let's

fortune. away.

(Exeunt. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore SCENE II.-Before York.

North. Be it with resolution then to fight.

Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords,
Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, the Prince And hearten those that fight in your defence :

of WALES, CLIPFord, and NORTA UM BERLAND, Unsheath your sword, good father; cry St. George!
with Forces.
Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town

March.--Enter Edward, GEORGE, RICHARD, WAR of York.

WICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy,

Edw. Now, perjured Henry! Wilt thou kneel for
That sought to be encompass’d with your crown:

grace,
Doth not the object cheer your lieart, my lord ? And set ihy diadein upon my head ;
K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?

their wreck ;-
To see this sight, it irks my very soul.-

Q. Mar. Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!

Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,
Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault, Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king!
Not wittingly have I infringed my vow.

Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee;
Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity I was adopted heir by his consent:
And harmful pity, must be laid aside.

Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear,
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?

You-that are king, though he do wear the crown-
Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Have caused him, by new act of parliament,
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?

To blot out me, and put his own son in.
Not his, that spoils her young before her face. Clif. And reason too;
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Who should succeed the father, but the son!
Not he, that sets his foot upon her back.

Rich. Are you there, butcher 1-0, I cannot speak.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; Clif: Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer thee,
And doves will peck, iu safeguard of their brood. Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
Ambitious York di level at thy crown,

Rich. 'Twas you, that kill'd young Rutland, was
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows:

it not? He, but a duke, would have his son a king,

Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. And raise his issue, like a loving sire;

Rich. For God's sake, 'lords, give signal to the Thou, being a king, blessed with a goodly son,

fight. Didst yield consent to disinherit him,

War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thon yield Which argued thee a most unloving father.

the crown? Unreasonable creatures feed their young:

Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick!
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes,

Dare you speak?
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,

When you and I niet at St. Albans last,
Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Your legs did better service than your hands.
Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,) War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled.
Offering their own lives in their young's defence ? War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent!

thence.
Were it not pily, that this goodly boy

North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make Should lose his birthright by his father's fault?

you stay.
And long hereafter say unto his child,

Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently!
What my great-grandfather and grand-sire got, Break off the parle; for scarce I can retrain
My careless father fondly t gave away?

The execution of my big-swollen heart
Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy ; Upon that Clifford, ihat cruel child-killer.
And let his manly face, which promiseth,

(lif. I slew thy father: call'st thou him a child? Successful fortune, steel thy melung heart,

Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherons com To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him.

ard, K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland :Inferring arguments of mighty force.

But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,- K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and That things ill got had ever bad success ?

hear me speak. And happy always was it for that son,

Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thiy Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ?

lips.
I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind ;

K. Hen. I priythee, give no limits to my tongue;
And 'would, my father had left me no more! I am a king, and privileged to speak.
For all the rest is held at such a rate,

Clif: My liege, he wound, that bred this meeting
As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep,

here,
Than in possession any jot of pleasure.

Cannot be cured hy words; therefore be still.
Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know, Rich. Then executioner, unsheath thy sword :
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! By him that made us all,'I am resolved +,
Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits ! Our foes That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue:

are nigh,
Ard this soft courage makes your followers saint.

Edu. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no
You promised knighthood to our forward son ;

A thousand 'men bave broke their fasts co-day,

That pe'er shall dine, unless thou yield the cio. • Why then things are as they should be. • Foolishly

• It is my firin persuasion.

i.e. Arranse rour host, put your host in order

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his content: ath is brise; for, as! her %, though he do vear the .. by bex aet ut parlmente ind put his own son in n 1:10; ceed the father, but the 1 there, butcher ! -0,1629311 A backbere I stand, to 25% prosdest of thy sort you, that kiild young Astana od old York, and vet med person God's sake, lords, gre sarta?

War. If

thou deny, their blood upon thy head; | And, in the very pangs of death, he cried, -
For York in justice puts his armour on.
Prince. If that be riglit, which Warwick says is Wurwick, rerenge! Brother, revenge my death!

Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,
There is no wrong, but every thing is right.
right,

So underneath the belly of their steeds,
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

That stam'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
For, weil i wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.
Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our
dam;

blood :
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,

I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.
Mark'd by the destinies . to be avoided,

Why stand we like sott-hearted women here,
As venons toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.

Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage ;
Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt 1,

And look upon", as if the tragedy.
Whose father bears the title of a king,

Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
(As if a channel should be call'd the sea,)

Here on my knee 1 vow to God above,
Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art ex-

I'll never pause again, never stand still,
traught,

Till either death bath closed these eyes of mine,
To let thy tongue detectó thy base-born heart?

Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
Edw. Å wisp of straw were worth a thousand

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

And, in this vow, do chain miy soul to thine.-
To make this shameless callet || know herself.-

And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,

I throw my hands, inine eyes, my heart to thee,
Although thy husband may be Menelaus:

Thou setter up and plucker down of kings!
And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd

Beseeching thee,mii with thy will it stands,
By that false woman, as this king by thee.

That to my toes this body must be prey ,-
His father revell'd in the heart of France,

Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,
And tained the king, and made the dauphin stoop; Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,

And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!-
And, had he match'ri according to his state,
He might have kept that glory to this day :

Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.
But, when bre took a beggar to his bed,

Rich. Brother, give me thy hand;-and gentle
And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day ;

Warwick,
F.ven then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, I, that did never weep, now melt with woe,

Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,
And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.

That winter should cut off our spring-time so.
For what broach'd this tumult, but thy pride ?

Wur. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords,
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept;

farewell.
And we, in pity of the gentle king,

Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops,
Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

And give them leave to fly that will not stay;
Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy

And call them pillars, that will stand to us ;
spring,

And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards
And that thy summer bred us no increase,

As victors wear at the Olympian games :
We set the axe to thy usurping root:

This may plant courage in their quailing + breasts;
And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Fore-slow no longer, niake we hence amain.

For yet is hope of life, and victory.-
Yes, know thou since we have begun to strike,
We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down,
Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.

(Exeunt.
Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee ;

SCENE IV.-The same.- Another Part of the Field.
Not willing any longer conference,
Sirce thou deny'st the centle king to speak.-

Excursions.- Enter RICHARD and ClipFORD.
Sound trumpets !-- Let our bloody colouis wave! Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York,

Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone :
And either victory, or else a grave.
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward,

And this for Rutland ; both bound to revenge,
Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay:

Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.
These words will cost ten thousand lives to day: This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York:

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone :

(Eseunit. And this the hand, that slew thy brother Rutland : SCENE III.-A Field of Battle between Touton

And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, at say'st thou, Henry, with and Sarton in Yorkshire.

Ar.d cheers these hands that slew thy sire and

brother,
Alarums : Excursions.-Enter WARWICK.

To execute the like upon thyself;
War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,

And so, have at thee.
I lay me down a little while to breathe :

'[They fight-Warwick enters ; Clifford flies.
did better service that her
For strokes received, and many blows repaid,

Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chace;
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength,

For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. (Exeunt.
And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while.

SCENE V.-Another part of the Field.
Twas not your valour, Clied, agus
Enter EDWARD, running.

Alarum.-Enter King HENRY.
No, not your manhood, that day
Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle

K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's
death!

war, For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded.

When dying clouds contend with growing light; off the parle, for scarcel care War. How now, my lord? What hap? What hope Can neither call it perfect day, or night.

What time ihe shepherd, blowing of his nails,

Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea,

Enter George.
Llew the father: calls

Forced by the tide to combat with the wind ; for Ar, like & dastard, and a true

Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair;
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us :

Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea
What counsel give you, whither shall we fly!

Forced to retire by fury of the wind :

Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; lou didat kill our tender brother Page

And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
Edw. Bootless is fight, they follow us with wings ; | Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,

Now, one the better; then, another best;
Hon. Hare done with wonis,

Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered :
Enter RICHARD.

So is the equal poise of the fell war.
War. Defy then then, or else hodet
Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn

Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
thyself?
k. Hon. I pri thee, gire mon XITAT
Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,

To whom God will, there be the victory !
Broach'd with the steely
point of Clifford's lance: They prosper best of all when I am thence.

For Margaret, my queen, and Clifford ioo,

Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, Clil. V lirge, 'be wound, that are

'Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so :
annot be cured by words, there are
: Cilt is a superficial covering of gold.

For what is in this world, but grief and woe?
Rich. Then executioner, andhentire
Kennel was then pronounced channel.

O God ! methinks, it were a happy life,
To shew thy meanness of birth by the indecent
hy him that made #all, I am!
That Chiflord's manherd lies and

. And are mere spectators.
Ext. Sas, Henry, shall I herre

I i.e. A cuckold.

+ Sinking into dejection. A thon and men have broke ther in

1 To fore-slow is to be dilatory, to loiter. Tliat pe'er shall die, un'ala *** . i. Arranse I nur hoc, pot no

(round Why, how now, long-tonguedir re you «p alt and I niet at St. Albans lac,

hen 'twas in« tam totius peres u said so much temte and 14:*

hence.

o stay

Northumberland, I hold the permettent

of good!

con of my bloer beat That Chifford, that cruel celler

ard,

ere sunsel, I'll make thee Cooper

hear me

peak,

lips,

im akup, and prileged in des

here,

To be no better than a homely swain;

Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied !
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son,
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,

Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ! Thereby to see the minutes how they run:

K. Hen. How will the country, for these woeful How many make the hour full complete,

chances,
How many hours bring about the day,

Misthink the king, and not be satisfied !
How many days will tinish up the year,

Son. Was ever son, so rued a father's death?
How many years a mortal man may live.

Fath. Was ever father, so temoan'd a son ? When thuis is known, then to divide the times : K. Hen. Was ever king, so grieved for subjects' Su many hours must I tend my fock;

voe? So many hours must I take my rest;

Much is your sorrow ; mine, ten times so much. So many hours must I conteniplate;

So . l'il bear thee hence, where I may weep my So many hours must I sport mysell;

fill.

(Ex it with the Boti. So many days my ewes have been with young; Fath. These arnis of mine shall be thy winding. So many weeks ere the poor fools will ytan;

sheet; So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece:

My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. Pass'd over to the end they were created,

My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.

And so obsequious will thy father be,
Ah, what a life were this! How sweet! How lovely! Sad for the loss of thee, having no more,
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
Toʻshepherds, looking on their silly sheep,

l'll bear thee bence; and let them fight that will, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy

For I have murder'd where I should not kill. To kings, that tear their subjects' treachery?

(Exit with the Body. 0, yes, it doth; a thousand told it doth.

K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with
And to conciuile,-the shepherd's homely curds,

care,
His cold thin druk out of his leather bottle, Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

Alarums : Excursions.- Enter Queen MARGARET,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,

Prince of Wales, and EXETER. His vianda sparkling in a golden cup,

Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are His body couched in a curious bed,

fled, When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.

And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: Alarum.—Enter a Son that has killed his father, Away! for death doth bold us in pursuit. dragging in the dead Body.

Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick

post amain ;
Son. Il blows the wind, that profits nobody.- Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds,
This man, whom hand in hand I slew in tight, Having the fearful fying hare in sight,
May be possessed with some store of crowns: With tiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
And I, that haply take them from him now, And bloody steel grasp'd in their iretul hands,
Mayet ere night yield both my life and them Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
To some man eise, as this dead man doth to me.- Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with
Who's this?-0 God! It is my father's face,

them :
Whom in this conflict I unawares have kill'd. Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed ;
O heavy times, begetting such events !

Or else come after, I'll awas before.
From London by the king was I press'd forth ; K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet
My father, being the earl of Warwick's man,

Exeter;
Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
And I, who at his hands received my life,

Whither the queen intends. Forward ; away!
Have by my hands of life bereaved him.-

(Excunt. Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did !

SCENE VI.-The same.
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee !--
My tears shall wipe away these bloody inarks;

A loud Alarum.-- Enter CLIFFORD, wounded.
And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. Clif. Here barns my candle out, ay, here it diese

K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times ! Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens,

0, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity:

More than my body's parting with my soul. Weep, wretched man, I ll aid thee tear for tear; My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee; And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York, grief.

The common people swarm like summer fies:

And whither ty the gnats, but to the sun Enter a Father who has killed his Son, with the And who slunes now, but Henry's enemies! Body in his Arms.

O Phæbus! hadst thou never given consent

That Phaeton should check thy tiery steeds, Fath. Thou that so sloutly had resisted me,

Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth : Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold ;

And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
For I have bought it with an hundred blows.-

Or as thy father, and his fainer, did,
But let me see :-)s this our foeman's face?

Giving no ground unto the house of York,
Ah, 110, no, no, it is mine only son l-

They never then had sprung like summer fijes;
Ah, boy, if any life be lent in thee,

I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,
Throw up thine eye; see, see, what slowers arise, Had left no mourning widows for our death,
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,
Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart!-

And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.

For what doch cherish weeds, buit gentle air! 0, pity, God, this miserable age!

And what make robbers bold, but too ninch lenity! What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,

Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,

No way to fly, nor strength to hold ont flight:
This deadly quarrel daily doth begel! -

The foe is merciless, and will not pity.
O boy, thy father gave thee lire too soon,

For, at their hands, I have deserved 'no pity ;
And hath berert thee of thy life too late!

The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
K. Hen. Woe above woe! Grief inore than com-

And much effuse of blood doch make nie faint:-
mon grief!
0, that my death would stay these ruthfal deeds!-

Come, York, and Richard, Warwick and the rest; O pity, pity, gentle bienven, pity ;-.

I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. Tht red rose and the white are on his face,

(He saints The tatal colours of our striving houses :

Alarum and Retreat.- Enter EDWARD, GEORGE,
The one, his purple blood right well resembles;
The other, his pale cheek, methinks, present :

RICHARD, MONTAGUR, WARWICK, and Solvier's.
Wither one rose, and let ihe other flourish!

Edw. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids If you contend, a thousand lives upust wither.

us pause, son. How will my mother, for a father's death,

And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.

Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ;• This word here means dreadful events

• Think unfavourably of.

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That led calm Henry, though he were a king,

ACT III.
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Command an argosy to stem the waves.

SCENE 1.-A Chace in the North of England.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?

War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape : Enter Two KEEPERS, with Cross-bows in their
For, though before his face I speak the words,

Hands.
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake. we'll
And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.

shroud ourselves;
(Cliford groans and dies. For through this laund t anon the deer will come;
Edw. Whose soul is thai which takes her heavy And in this covert will we make our stand,
leavet

Calling the principal of all the deer.
Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's de. 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.
parting.

1 Keep. That cannot be ; the noise of thy cross-bow
Edw. See who it is : and, now the batele's ended, Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost.
If friend, or foe, let him be gently used.

Here stand we both, and aim we at the best :
Rich, Revoke that doom of mercy, for’tis Clifford; Aud, for the time shall not seem tedious,
Who, not contented that he lopp'd the branch, I'll tell thee what befel me on a day,
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,

In this self-place where now we mean to stand.
But set his mardering knite unto the root

2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be past Prom whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, I mean our princely father, duke of York. Enter King HENRY, disguised, with a Prayer-book. War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head,

K. Hen. From Scotland am I stolen, even of pure Your father's head, which Clifford placed there :

love, Instead whereof, let this supply the room; To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. Measure for measure must be answered.

No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ;
Edw. Bring forth this fatal screech-owl to our Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
house,

Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed :
That nothing sung but death to us and ours : No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, No humble suitors press to speak for right,
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
(Aitendants bring the Body forward. For how can I help them, and not myself?
War. I think his understanding is bereft:-

I Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to

fee : thee

This is the quondam king: let's seize upon him. Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,

K. Hen. Let me einbrace these our adversities; And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say,

For wise men say, it is the wisest course. Rich. 0, 'would he did! And so, perhaps, he doth; 2 Keep. Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him. 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,

I Keip. Farbear awhile; we'll hear a liuie more. Because he would avoid such bitter taunts

K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France Which in the time of death he gave our father.

for aid ;
Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
words.

Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister
Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.

To wite for Edward : if this news be true,
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost;
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.

For Warwick is a subile orator, Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.

And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son io York. By this account, then Margaret may win him; Extw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee.

For she's a woman to be pilied much : Geo. Where's captain Margaret to fence you now?

Her sighs will make a battery in bus breast; Wur. They mock thee, Clifford ! Swear as thou Her teals will pierce into a marble heart; wast wont.

The liger will be mild, while she doth mourn; Rich. What, not an oath Nay, then the world And Nero will be lainte d with remorse, goes hard,

To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath :- Ay, but she's coine to beg; Warwick, to give: I know by that, he's dead; and, by my soul, She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry; If this right hand would buy two hours' life, He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. That I in all despite might rail at him,

She weeps and says-her Henry is deposed ; This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing He smiles, and says-his Edward is install’d; blood

That she, poor wretch, for griet can speak no more : Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst

Whiles Warwick teils his lille, smooths the wrong, York and young Rutland could

not satisfy.

Interreth arguments of mighty strength ;
War. Ay, but he's dead: Oft with the traitor's And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,
head,

With promise of his sister, and what else,
And rear it in the place your father's stands. To strengthen and support king Edward's place.
And now to London withi triumphant march,

O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thun, poor soul,
There to be crowned England's royal king.

Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, 2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that walk'st of kings
And ask the lady Bona for thy queen :

and queens?
So shalt thou sìnew both these lands together; K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread

born to : The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again;

A man at least, for less I should not be ;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, And men may lalk of kings, and why not I!
Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine ears. 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king.
First, will I see the coronation;

K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's
And then to Britanny l'Il cross the sea,
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.

2 Keep. Bat, if thou be a king, where is thy Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be:

crown? For on thy shoulder do I build my seat;

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my
And never will I undertake the thing,

head;
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones,
Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster; Nor to be seen : my crown is call’d, content;
And George, of Clarence ;-Warwick, as ourself, A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.
Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence, George of

content, Gloster;

Your crown content, and you, must be contented For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.

To go along with us: for, as we think,
War. Tut, that's a foolish observation;

You are the king, king Edward hath deposed;
Richard be duke of Gloster: now to London, And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
To see these honours in possession. (Eseunt. Will apprehend you as his enemy.
• Sour words, words of asperity,

• Thicket. A plain extended between woods,

enough.

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