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But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
His dukedom and his chair with me is left. See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, As if they vow'd some league inviolable: Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; In this the heaven figures some event.
Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. * Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never || March. Enter Warwick and Montague, with
heard of. I think, it cites us, brother, to the field;
forces. That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what * Each one already blazing by our meeds,
news abroad? Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together, * Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should * And over-shine the earth, as this the world.
recount • Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, Upon my target three fair shining suns. Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, * Rich. Nay, bear three daughters ;-by your The words would add more anguish than the leave I speak it,
wounds. * You love the breeder better than the male. O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain.
Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, Enter a Messenger.
Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, • But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death.3 • Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker-on,
tears: When as the noble duke of York was slain, And now, to add more measure to your woes, * Your princely father, and my loving lord. I come to tell you things since then befallin. • Edw. O, speak no more !"for I have heard too|After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, much.
Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. ||Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Mess. Environed he was with many foes; Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. And stood against them as the hope of Troy2 I then in London, keeper of the king,
Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd Troy. Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, * But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; And very well appointed, as I thought, * And many strokes, though with a little axe, March'd towards Saint Albans, to intercept the * Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
queen, By many hands your father was subdu'd; Bearing the king in my behalf along : • But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
For by my scouts I was advertised, • Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen: That she was coming with a full intent
Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite ; To dash our late decree in parliament, · Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept, ||* Touching king Henry's oath, and your succes * The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, • A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Short tale to make,we at Saint Albans met, • Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain : Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought * And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, • They took his head, and on the gates of York Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, • They set the same; and there it doth remain, That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen, • The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. Or whether 'twas report of her success ;
Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon; || Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay ! - : Who thunders to his captives blood and death, * Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth, * The flower of Europe for his chivalry; Their weapons like to lightning came and went; * And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, Our soldiers'-like the night-owl's lazy flight, * For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'a ||: Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail, thee
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends Now my soul's palace is become a prison : I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body With promise of high pay, and great rewards : • Might in the ground be closed up in rest: But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight, . For never henceforth shall I joy again, And we, in them, no hope to win the day, • Never, 0 never, shall I see more joy.
So that we fled; the king, unto the queen; * Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself
, Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; * Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great | For in the marches here, we heard, you were, burden;
Making another head to fight again. * For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, . Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, entle * Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast,
Warwick? * And burn me up with flames, that
tears would || And when came George from Burgundy to Eng. quench.
land ? * To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: *War. Some six miles off the duke is with the * Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge, for
soldiers : me
And for your brother,--he was lately sent * Richard, 1 bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, • Or die renowned by attempting it.
* With aid of soldiers to this needful war. Edu. His name that valiant duke hath left with Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warthee ;
Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, (1) Merit. (2) Hector. (3) Killed. But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire.
War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou | SCENE II.-Before York. Enter King Henry hear:
Queen Margaret, the Prince of Wales, Clifford, For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine and Northumberland, with forces. Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head,
2. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town And wring the awful sceptre from his fist;
of York. Were he as famous and as bold in war,
Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer. That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: Rich. I know it well, lord Warwick : blame me
• Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? not;
• K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak.
their wreck ;But, in this troublous time, what's to be done?
To see this sight, it irks my very soul.Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
Withhold revenge, dear God ! 'tis not my fault, And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Not wittingly have I infring'd my vow. Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads ?
Clif. My gracious liege,
this too much lenity, Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
And harmful pity, must be laid aside. Tell our devotion with revengeful arms ?
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks ? If for the last, say-Ay, and to it, lords.
Not to the beast that would usurp their den. War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek || Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick ? you out;
Not his, that spoils her young before her face. And therefore comes my brother Montague.
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, Not he, that sets his foot upon her back. With Clifford, and the haught' Northumberland, The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; And of their feather, many more proud birds,
* And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown, He swore consent to your succession,
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows:
He, but a duke, would have his son a king,
Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, May make against the house of Lancaster.
Didst yield consent to disinherit him, • Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong :
* Which argued thee a most unloving father. Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, Unreasonable creatures feed their young: With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March, || And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, • Will but amount to five and twenty thousand,
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Why, via! to London will we march amain;
• Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight) And once again bestride our foaming steeds, Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, • And once again cry-Charge upon our foes!
Offering their own lives in their young's defence? But never once again turn back, and fly. Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick || Were it not pity that this goodly boy
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! speak:
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day,
And long hereafter say unto his child, • That cries—Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I || My careless father fondly gave away?
What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, lean;
Ah, what a shame were this ? Look on the boy ; • And when thou fall'st (as God forbid the hour!)
And let his manly face, which promiseth Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend !
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, War. No longer earl of March, but duke of To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. York;
K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, • The next degree is, England's royal throne :
Inferring arguments of mighty force. For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear, — In every borough as we pass along; And he that throws not up his cap for joy,
That things ill got had ever bad success ? • Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
And happy always was it for that son,
Whose father for his boarding went to hell? King Edward,—valiant Richard,--Montague,
I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, And 'would, my father had left me no more! • But sound the trumpets, and about our task.
For all the rest is held at such a rate, * Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard || As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, as steel
* Than in possession any jot of pleasure. * (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,)
Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know, * ì come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.
• How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! * Edw. Then strike up, drums ;-God, and Saint
• Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our George, for us!
foes are nigh, Enter a Messenger.
* And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
• You promis'd knighthood to our forward son; War. How now? what news? Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by Edward, kneel down.
• Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet
, arise a knight; The queen is coming with a puissant host?
And learn this lesson,-Draw thy sword in right. And craves your company for speedy counsel. • War. Why then it sorts, 2 brave warriors: || I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,
Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, [Ereunt. || And in that quarrel use it to the death.
Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince (1) Lofty. (2) Why then things are as they should be.
Enter a Messenger.
K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness :
hear me speak. For, with a band of thirty thousand men,
Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York;
lips. And, in the towns as they do march along,
K. Hen. I pr’ythee, give no limits to my tongue; Proclaims him king, and many fly to him :
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. • Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meetClif. I would, your highness would depart the
ing here, field;
Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. 'The queen hath best success when you are absent.
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our By bim that made us all, I am resolv’d,
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. fortune. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day,
• Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? North. Be it with resolution then to fight.
That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, | For York in justice puts his armour on.
War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; And hearten those that fight in your defence : Cnsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint
• Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says George!
There is no wrong, but every thing is right. March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, War- Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands;
wick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers. For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. • Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel
e. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor for grace,
dam; * And set thy diadem upon my head;
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, * Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, 2. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!
* As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. * Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,
Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, • Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king?
Whose father bears the title of a king
* Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art exSince when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear,
traught, You-that are king, though he do wear the crown,
* To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ?6 Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament,
Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand • To blot out me, and put his own son in.
crowns, • Clif. And reason too;
To make this shameless callet7 know herself.-Who should succeed the father, but the son ?
* Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, • Rich. Are you there, butcher?--0, I cannot
Although thy husband may be Menelaus ;8 speak!
And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer
* By that false woman, as this king by thee. thee,
• His father revell'd in the heart of France, Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
And tam'd the king, and made the dauphin stoop; Rich. 'Twas you that killed young Rutland, was
And, had he match'd according to his state, it not
He might have kept that glory to this day : Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
But, when he took a beggar to his bed, Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the |And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day;
• Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, fight. War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield | That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, the crown?
And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongued War-:For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride ? wick? dare you speak?
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; When you and I met at Saint Albans last,
And we, in pity of the gentle king, Your legs did better service than your hands.
Had slipp'd our claim until another age. War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis
Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy
spring, Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fied. ll: And that thy summer bred us no increase, War. "Twas not your
valour, Clifford, drove me And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, thence. North. No, nor your manhood, that durst makel. Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
* We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, you stay. Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently ;
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. Break off the parle; for scarce I can refrain
Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; The execution of my big-swoln heart
Not willing any longer conference, l'pon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.*Clif. I slew thy father: Call'st thou him a child ? | Sound trumpets !-let our bloody colours wave! Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous And either victory, or else a grave. coward,
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;
Èdw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed.
stay: (1) i e. Arrange your host, put your host in order. (5) Kennel was then pronounced channel. (2) It is my firm persuasion.
(6) To show thy meanness of birth by thy inde13) One branded by nature.
cent railing Gilt is a superficial covering of gold.
(8) i. e. A cuckold.
These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. * This may plant courage in their quailing2 breasts,
(Exeunt. * For yet is hope of life, and victory.
* Fore-slow3 no longer, make we hence amain. SCENE III.-A field of battle between Towton
(Exeunt. and Saxton in Yorkshire. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Warwick.
SCENE IV.-The same. Another part of the
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.
Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone : Enter Edward, running.
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.
And so, have at thee.
[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 fight, 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. · Rich. 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 ? • 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 stil,
For what is in this world, but grief and wo? • Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, * 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, l * Thereby to see the minutes how they run:
* 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 meet again, * 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, bours, days, weeks, months, and years, •War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, | * 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 tiese woO, yes it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
ful chances, * And to conclude,--the shepherd's homely curds,|| 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.
(Exit, with the body. Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father,
* Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy winddragging 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 gé • This man, whom hand to hand'I slew in fight, * My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
May be possessed with some store of crowns: * And so obsequious: will thy father be,
May yet ere night yield both my life and them * As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
(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; 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.-
Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds * Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; l. Having the fearful flying hare in sight, * And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, * Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with. And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, grief.
• Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. Enter a Father who has killed his son, with the
· Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with
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? · 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, o, 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 • boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,
My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee; . And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. K. Hen. Wo above wo! grief more than com- The common people swarm like summer flies:
Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York, mon grief! O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds And whither
fly the gnats, but to the sun ?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies? *O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity
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 : * The one, his purple blood right
well resembles || And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth. * The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present : Wither one rose, and let the other flourish!
Or as thy father, and his father, did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York, . If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, 1, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,
* They never then had sprung like summer flies; Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied? Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my|| And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
Had left no mourning widows for our death, 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? Think unfavourably of.
(3) Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites. VOL. II.