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“His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird,
Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun;
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say;
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.

JMarch. Enter Warwick and Montague, with Jorces. War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what news abroad 2 * Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. Edw. OWarwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death.* ar. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears: And now, to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things since then befall'n. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. I then in London, keeper of the king, Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, And very well appointed, as I thought, wo towards Saint Albans, to intercept the queen,

Bearing the king in my behalf along:
For by my scouts I was advértised,
That she was coming with a full intent
To dash our late decree in parliament,
‘Touching king Henry's oath, and your succes
Short tale to make, we at Saint Albans met,
Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought-
But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king,
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen,
That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen,
Or whether 'twas report of her success;
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,
‘Who thunders to his captives—blood and death,
I cannot judge; but, to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
Our soldiers'—like the night-owl's lazy flight,
“Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail,
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends
I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay, and great rewards:
But all in vain; they had no heart to fight,
And we, in them, no hope to win the day,
So that we fled; the king, unto the queen;
Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself,
In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you;
For in the marches here, we heard, you were,
Making another head to fight again.
Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle
And when came George from Burgundy to Eng-
land 2

War. Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers: And for your brother, he was lately sent From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, * With aid of soldiers to this needful war. Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled:

“Or die renowned by attempting it. Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with ; (1) Merit. (2) Hector. (3) Killed.

Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire.

War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hea

r: For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful sceptre from his fist; Were he as famous and as bold in war, As he is fam'd for mildness, Rich. I know it well, lo

ace, and prayer. Warwick: blame me

not; 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak. But, in this troublous time, what's to be done? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, And wrap our bodies in black o Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the last, say—Ay, and to it, lords. War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather, many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. He swore consent to your succession, His oath enrolled in the parliament; And now to London all the crew are gone, To frustrate both his oath, and what beside 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 Welshmen canst 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 our foes! But never once again turn back, and fly. Rich. Ay, o, methinks, I heargreatWarwick speak : Ne'er mo live to see a sunshine day, “That cries—Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. Edw. +. Warwick, on thy shoulder will I ean: • And when thou fall'st (as God forbid the hour!) Must Edward fall, which peril heaven foresend! JWar. No. earl of March, but duke of

ork; “The next degree is, England's royal throne: For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd In every borough as we pass along; And he that throws not up his cap for joy, * Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, “But sound the trumpets, and about our task. * Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel - so: thou hast shown 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 Messenger.

JWar. How now? what news? JMess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, The queen is coming with a puissant host? And craves your company for speedy counsel. * War. Why then it sorts,” brave warriors: Let's away. [Ereunt.

(1) Lofty. (2) Why then things are as they should be.

SCENTE II—Before York. Enter King Henry Queen Margaret, the Prince of Wales, Clifford, and Northumberland, with forces.

Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of Y

- ork. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: “Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? “K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck;To see this sight, it irks my very soul— Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault, Notwittingly have I infring'd my vow. Clif. My ious liege, this too much lenity, And harmful pity, must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick 2 Not his, that spoils her young before her face. Who'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Not he, that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on ; “And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown, Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows: He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue, like a loving sire; Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, “Which argued thee a most unlowing 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 seen them (even with those wing “Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight,) Make war with him #. climb'd unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young's defence? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; And long hereafter say unto his child,— JWhat my great-grandfather and grandsire got, JMy careless {.. fondly" foy 2 Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; And let his manly face, which promiseth Successful fortune, steel thy o: heart, To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. “But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear, That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son, Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; And 'would, my father had left me no more! For all the rest is held at such a rate, “As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, “Than in possession any jot of pleasure. Ah, cousin York!'would thy best friends did know, ‘How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! ‘Q, JMar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, “And this soft courage makes your followers faint. ‘You promis'd knighthood to our forward son; * Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently.— Edward, kneel down. K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And learn this lesson, Draw thy sword in right. Prince. Mygracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death. Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.

(3) Foolishly.

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or grace, “And set thy diadem upon my head; * Orbide the mortal fortune of the field? Q.Mar. Go, rate thyminions, proud insultingboy! “Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, “Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king? Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent: Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, You—that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament, “To blot out me, and put his own son in. “Clif. And reason too; Who should succeed the father, but the son? * Rich. Are you there, butcher?—0, I cannot

speak “Clif Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer thee, “Or any he the proudest of thy sort. Rich. 'Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not *

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When you and I met at Saint Albans last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.
War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis

thine. Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, droveme

thence. ‘..Morth. No, nor your manhood, that durst make

you stay. Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently:Break off the parle; for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. Clif. I slew thy father: Call'st thou him achild? Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous

coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed.

(1) i.e. Arrange your host, put your host in order. (2) It is my firm persuasion. (3) One branded by nature. (4) Gilt is a superficial covering of gold.

K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

Q. Mar. Desy them then, or else hold close thy

lins. K. Hen. o prythee, give no limits to my tongue; I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. Clif My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting here, Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: By him that made us all, I am resolv'd,” - }. Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. ‘Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown. War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; For York in iustice puts his armour on. ‘Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right. Rich. Whoevergotthee, there thymother stands; For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor

dam; But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, Mark'd by the destinies” to be avoided, ‘As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king (As if a channels should be call'd the sea,) “Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, “To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?6 Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, To make this shameless callets know herself— * Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, * Although thy husband may be Menelaus;8 *And ne'er was A mnon's brother wrong'd * By that false woman, as this king by thee. “His father revell'd in the heart of France, 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 sire with his bridal day; “Even then that sunshine brew’d a shower for him, “That wash’d his father's fortunes forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. ‘For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; And we, in pity of the gentle king, Had slipp'd our claim until another age. “Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy

spring, “And o summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root: And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, * Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, “We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. du. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speakSound trumpets!—let our bloody colours wave'— And either victory, or else a grave. Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay:

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These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. 11* This may plant courage in their quailing2 breasts,

(Exeunt. I * For yet is hope of life, and victory.

J* Fore-slows no longer, make we hence amain. SCENE III.- A field of battle between Towton

(Exeunt. and Saxton in Yorkshire. Alarums : Excur

SCENE IV.-The same. Another part of the sions. Enter Warwick.

field. Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford. *War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe : ' 'Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone : For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, || . Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength,ll. And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, • And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while. Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. Enter Edward, running.

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

This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ; • Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland , death!

And here's the heart that triumphs in their death, . For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and clouded.

War. How now, my lord? what hap? what hopel To execute the like upon thyself;
of good?

And so, have at thee.
Enter George.

[They fight. Warwick enters; Clifford flies. * Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair ;)

Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us :

chase; • What counsel give you, whither shall we fly? | For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. (Exe. Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with SCENE V.-Another part of the field. Alarum. wings;

Enter King Henry. • And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.

* K. Hen. This battle farés like to the morning's Enter Richard.

war, · Rach. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn * When dying clouds contend with growing light; thyself?

* What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, • Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,|| * Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. • Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance : /. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, . And, in the very pangs of death, he cried, • Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind; . Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, • Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death! Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : • So underneath the belly of their steeds,

• Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; • That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, • Now, one the better; then, another best ; • The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

• Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, War. Then let the earth be drunken with our • Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : blood :

• So is the equal poise of this fell war. I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.

* Here on this molehill will I sit me down. • Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, * To whom God will, there be the victory! * Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; • For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, * And look upon, as if the tragedy

• Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, * Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors ? 1. They prosper best of all when I am thence. • Here on my knee I vow to God above,

• 'Would I were dead! if God's good will were so. • I'll never pause again, never stand still,

• For what is in this world, but grief and wo? • Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, * O God! methinks, it were a happy life, • Or fortune given me measure of revenge. • To be no better than a homely swain;

Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; * To sit upon a hill, as I do now, • And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine. * To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, * And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, * Thereby to see the minutes how they run : * I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, * How many make the hour full complete, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings! * How many hours bring about the day, • Beseeching thee,- if with thy will it stands, * How many days will finish up the year, • That to my foes this body must be prey,– * How many years a mortal man may live. • Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, * When this is known, then to divide the times : . And give sweet passage to my sinful soul ! * So many hours must I tend my flock; • Now, lords, take leave until we me

* So many hours must I take my rest : Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.

* So many hours must I contemplate; Rich. Brother, give me thy hand ;-and, gentle * So many hours must I sport myself; Warwick,

* So many days my ewes have been with young; • Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: | * So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean;

I, that did never weep, now melt with wo, * So many years ere I shall shear the fleece : • That winter should cut off our spring-time so. * So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, l * Pass'd over to the end they were created, farewell.

* Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, * Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely. • And give them leave to fly that will not stay; * Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade And call them pillars, that will stand to us; * To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, • And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards * Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy • As victors wear at the Olympian games :

(2) Sinking into dejection. (1) And are mere spectators.

(3) To fore-slow is to be dilatory, to loiter.

* To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? | •K. Hen. How will the country, for these wo* 0, yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth.

ful chances, . And to conclude,-the shepherd's homely curds, ll. Misthink? the king, and not be satisfied ? * His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, • Son. Was ever son, so rued a father's death? * His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, • Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son ? * All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

. K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects' * Is far beyond a prince's delicates,

wo? * His viands sparkling in a golden cup,

• Much is your sorrow ; mine, ten times so much * His body couched in a curious bed,"

• Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep * When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him. my fill.

(Exit, with the body. Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father,

* Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy wind.

ing-sheet; dragging in the dead body.

* My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre ; Son Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody.- |* For from my heart thine image ne'er shall ge • This man, whom hand to hand'I slew in fight, l* My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; . May be possessed with some store of crowns : * And so obsequious: will thy father be, * And I, that haply take them from him now, * Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, * May yet ere night yield both my life and them * As Priam was for all his valiant sons. • To some man else, as this dead man doth me. I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, • Who's this?-O God! it is my father's face, For I have murder'd where I should not kill. • Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd.

(Exit, with the body. .O heavy times, begetting such events!

K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with • From London by the king was I press'd forth;

care, • My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, Here sits a king more woful than you are.

Came on the part of York, press'd by his master;|| Alarums: Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret, • And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, • Have by my hands of life bereaved him.

Prince of Wales, and Exeter. • Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did!

Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends And pardon, father, for I knew not thee !

are fled, * My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; ll. And Warwick rages like a chafed bull : . And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. ll Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.

K. Hen. Opiteous spectacle ! O bloody times ! || 'Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards BerWhilst lions war, and battle for their dens,

wick post amain : . Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.

l. Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds • Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear:ll' Having the fearful flying hare in sight,

And let our hearts, and eves, like civil war. With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath. • Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with l' And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, grief.

Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.

Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with Enter a Father who has killed his son, with the

them: body in his arms.

• Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; • Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, Or else come after, I'll away before. Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold;

•K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet For I have bought it with a hundred blows.

Exeter; . But let me see :-is this our foeman's face? ll. Not that I fear to stay, but love to go • Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son !

* Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! * Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,

(Exeunt. • Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise, || SCENE VI.-The same. A loud alarum. En. • Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,

ter Clifford, wounded. *Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart

| Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, 0, pity, God, this miserable age!

Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,

0, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow, • Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,

More than my body's parting with my soul. • This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!

My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee; O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,

• Ånd, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. . And hath bereft thee of thy life too late ! K. Hen. Wo above wo! grief more than com

Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,

The common people swarm like summer flies: mon grief!

And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun ? O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds

And who shines now but Henry's enemies? * pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity S.

O Phæbus ! hadst thou never given consent The red rose and the white are on his face,

That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, The fatal colours of our striving houses :

Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth. * The one, his purple blood right well resembles

And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, * The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present:

Or as thy father, and his father, did, Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!

Giving no ground unto the house of York, * If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.

* They never then had sprung like summer flies; Son. How will my mother, for a father's death,

* I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm, Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ?

Had left no mourning widows for our death, Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my

And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. son,

For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ?

* And what makes robbers bold, but too much (1) This word here means dreadful events.

lenity? (2) Think unfavourably of.

(3) Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites VOL. II.

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