And, if thou canst for blushing view this | And will you pale your head in Henry's glory To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. [York is taken prisoner. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'a 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, Come make him stand upon this molehill here; That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.What! was it you, that would be England's king? Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, I pr'ythee 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 should'st be mad; And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Thou would'st 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. Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath ? flonest men. 1 Reached. 1 Haudkerchief. And rob his temples of the diadem, And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. + Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he makes. 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, 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, Thy father bears the type t of king of Naples, Unless the adage must be verified, 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; The want thereof makes thee abominable: Or as the south to the septentrion. [] For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false French-woman. North. Beshrew me, but his passions me so, 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, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Sufferings. And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, I should not for my life but weep with him, Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland ? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death. [Stabbing him. Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. [Stabbing him. York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. [Dies. Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. news; Or, had he 'scaped, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape.- Methought he bore him in the thickest troop, 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. suns? That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, gether, And over-shine the earth, as this the world. You love the breeder better than the male. Enter a MESSENGER. But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue ? Mess. Ah! one that was a woeful looker on, When as the noble duke of York was slain, Your princely father, and my loving lord. Edw. O speak no more! for I have heard too much. Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. Mess. Environed he was with many foes; But Hercules himself must yield to odds; Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon; Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay I O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain thee ! For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, quench. To weep, is to make less the depth of grief : Tears, then, for babes; blows and revenge for me ! Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it. Edw. His name that valiant duke bath left with thee: His dukedom and his chair with me is le Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun; say; Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. And now, to add more measure to your woes, gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the post could run, wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads? land, Have wrought the easy melting king, like wax. And very well appointed, as I thought, queen, Bearing the king in my behalf along : sion. 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, 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 Warwick ? And when came George from Burgundy to England? War. Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers; And for your brother, he was lately sent, Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick filed. Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, pro With all the friends that thou, brave earl of Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick speak; Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, And when thou fall'st, (as God forbid the hour!) Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend! War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; The next degree is, England's royal throne; (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,) Enter a MESSENGER. The queen is coming with a puissant host; SCENE 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 York: • Lofty. Killed. Yonder's the head of that arch enemy, That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: Doth no: 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, Not wittingly have I infringed my vow. Clif. My gracious 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 ? 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 leve! at thy crown, And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet in protection of their tender ones, Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young's de. fence? 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,What my great-grandfather and grand-sire got, My careless father fondly gave away? And let his manly face, which promiseth K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. know, How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits! Our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promised 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. My gracious father, by your kingly leave I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death. Henry was a very amiable and pious monarch: be founded the munificent college of Eton; and also King's College, Cambridge. ↑ Foolishly. Clif. Why, that is spokon like a toward priuce. Enter a MESSENGER. Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness: For, with a band of thirty thousand men, Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York; And, in the towns as they do march along, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: D'arraign your battle for they are at hand. Clif. I would your highness would depart the field; The queen hath best success when you are absent. Q. Mar. Ay, good, my lord, and leave us to our fortune. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. North. Be it with resolution then to fight. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheath your sword, good father; cry St. George! March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Sol diers. Edw. Now, perjured Henry! Wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head; Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, knee; fight. War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? Q. Mar. Why, how now long-tongued Warwick? Dare you speak? When you and I met at St. Alban's last, Clif. You said so much before, and yet you filed. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make you stay. Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reve Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer thy lips. stay: K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my These words will cost ten thousand lives to day. tongue; I am a king, and privileged to speak. [Exeunt. Clif. My liege, the wound that bred this meet-SCENE III-A Field of Battle between ing here, Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still. Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword; 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 justice puts his armour on. Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right. Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, Whose father bears the title of a king, (As if a channel y should be call'd the sea,) Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art ex traught, Towton and Saxton in Yorkshire. I lay me down a little while to breathe : And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while. Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, un- For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. War. How now, my lord? What hap? What hope of good? Rich. Ah! Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? To let thy tongue detect | thy base-born heart? To make this shameless callet ¶ know herself. And, had be match'd according to his state, That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made And that thy summer bred us no increase, brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's And, in the very pangs of death, he cried, death! So underneath the belly of their steeds, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, And though the edge hath something hit our-I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings! Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:- Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, And are mere spectators. |