And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encounter'd him.
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried, "Charge! and give no foot of
ground!"

Edward, "A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!"

With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas! We bodg'd2 again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, 20 And spend her strength with over-matching waves.] [A short alarum within. Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury: [And were I strong, I would not shun their fury:]

The sands are number'd that make up my life;

Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFord, North-
UMBERLAND, the PRINCE OF WALES, and
Soldiers.

Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
I am your butt, and I abide3 your shot.
North. Yield to our mercy, proud Planta-
genet.

30

Clif. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, With downright payment, show'd unto my father.

[Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide prick.*]

York. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth

A bird that will revenge upon you all: [And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,

Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.]

1 Make a lane, cut his way. 3 Abide, await.

[So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; } So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.]

York. O Clifford, but bethink thee once again,

[And in thy thought o'er-run my former time;; And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face, And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice

Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this!

Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word,

But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. [Drawing.

Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford for a thousand causes

51

60

It is war's prize to take all vantages; And ten to one is no impeach of valour. [They lay hands on York, who struggles. Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.8

North. So doth the cony struggle in the net. [York is overpowered.

York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty;

So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd.

North. What would your grace have done unto him now?

Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,

5 To prick, i.e. as to prick. 6 Prize, prerogative. 7 Impeach impeachment.

2 Bodg'd, failed.

Prick, i.e. hour.

8 Gin, trap.

9 True, honest.

Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state. ]
I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York
[Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and
dance.

What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails

That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?]

Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad;

90

And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport:

York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him:

Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.

[Putting a paper crown on his head. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! [Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, And this is he was his adopted heir.

But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath?
As I bethink me, you should not be king 101
Till our King Henry had shook hands with
death.]

And will you pale1 your head in Henry's glory,
And rob his temples of the diadem,
Now in his life, against your holy oath?
O, 't is a fault too-too unpardonable!--

Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his head;

And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.2

Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he makes.

110

York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,

Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth!

How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex

To triumph, like an Amazonian trull,
Upon their woes whom fortune captivates!3
[But that thy face is, vizard-like, unchanging,
Made impudent with use of evil deeds,

I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.

To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd,

Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless.

120

O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide!
How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the
child,

To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?] 140
Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible;
Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorse-
less.

Bidd'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish:

Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will:

[For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays, the rain begins.] These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies: And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.

North. Beshrew me, but his passions move

That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood:

But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: [This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy,

And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: [Giving back the handkerchief. And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, 160 Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, And say "Alas, it was a piteous deed!"] There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse; [Taking off the paper crown. And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand!— [Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world:

My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads!]

[SCENE I. A plain near Mortimer's Cross.

A march. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and their Forces.

Edw. I wonder how our princely father scap'd,

Or whether he be scap'd away, or no, From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit:

Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news;

Had he been slain, we should have heard the news;

Or had he scap'd, methinks we should have heard

The happy tidings of his good escape.—
How fares my brother? why is he so sad?

Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd3
Where our right valiant father is become.1 10
I saw him in the battle range about;
And watch'd him how he singled Clifford
forth.

Methought he bore him in the thickest troop
As doth a lion in a herd of neat;5

Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,
Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
So far'd our father with his enemies;
So fled his enemies my warlike father:
Methinks, 't is pride enough to be his son.— 20
See how the morning opes her golden gates,

But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell

Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?

7 Dazzle mine eyes, i.e. are mine eyes dazzled? 8 Racking, drifting. 9 Meeds, merits.