Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, Which argued thee a most unloving father. Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear, That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son, 'As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, 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; 8 'Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. Clif. I would, your highness would depart the The field; 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, i. 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! March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers. '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 boy! '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 ?-O, I cannot speak! Or Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer thee, 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, War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? 'Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick? dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, Your legs did better service than hands. your 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, drove me thence. '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. K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. 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 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,9 9 It is my firm persuasion. That 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 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, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king, 2 (As if a channel3 should be call'd the sea,) 'Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, 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.- 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. 5 Drab. 6 i. e. A cuckold, |