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Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,

Which argued thee a most unloving 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 wings • Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight,) Make war with him that 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, What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, My careless father fondly 7 gave away? Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; And let his manly face, which promiseth Successful fortune, steel thy melting 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.

7 Foolishly.

Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did 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 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. 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. Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.

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 : Darraign your battle,8 for they are at hand. Clif. I would, your highness would depart the




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 ny fortune too; therefore

I'll stay.

North. Be it with resolution then to fight.
Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords,


Si. e. Arrange your host, put your host in order.

And hearten those that fight in your

defence : Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George!



Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel

for grace,

And set thy diadem upon my head; * Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?

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


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"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 kill'd young Rutland, was

it not? Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight.


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War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield

the crown?
• Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd War-

wick? dare you speak ? When


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

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

North. 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 a child?

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.
Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and

hear me speak.
Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy

K. Hen. I pr’ythee, give no limits to my tongue;
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.
Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting

Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.

Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: By him that made us all, I am resoly'd,9


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9 It is my firm persuasion.

That Clifford's manhood lies


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 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. Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor

dam; But like a foul misshapen stigmatick, Mark'd by the destinies' to be avoided, *As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.

Rich. Iron of Naples, bid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king, (As if a channel: should be call’d the sea,) 'Sham’st thou not, knowing whence thou art ex

traught, * To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?4 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 ;6




1 One branded by nature.
2 Gilt is a superficial covering of gold.

3 Kennel was then pronounced channel. 4 To show thy meanness of birth by thy indecent railing.

6 i. e, A cuckold,

5 Drab.

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