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Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me: Edw. No quarrel, but a slight coutention.
(me. The earl of Warwick, and the duke, enforc'd The crown of England, father, which is yours. Q. Mar. Enforc'd thee! art thou king, and York. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be wilt be forc'd ?
dead. I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me;
death. And given unto the house of York such head, Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
(breathe, To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, By giving the house of Lancaster leave to What is it, but to make thy sepulchre,
It will outrun you, father, in the end. And creep into it far before thy time?
York. I took an oath, that he should quietly Warwick'is chancellor, and the lord of Calais;
reign. Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be seas;
broken: The duke is made protector of the realm; I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year. And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds Rich. No; God forbid, your grace should be The trembling lamb, environed with wolves.
forsworn. Had I been there, which am a silly woman, York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. The soldiers should have toss'd me on their Rich. I'll prove the contrary, it you'll hear pikes,
me speak. Before I would have granted to that act. York. Thou canst not, son; it is inpossible: But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself, Before a true and lawful magistrate, (took Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, That hath authority over him
that swears : Until that act of parliament be repeald, Henry had none, but did usurp the place; Whereby my son is disinherited.
Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, The northern lords, that have forsworn thy Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. colours,
Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think, Will follow mine, if once they see them spread: How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; And spread they shall be; to thy foul disgrace, Within whose circuit is Elysium, And utter ruin of the house of York.
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Thus do I leave thee:-Come, son, let's away; | Why do we línger thus? I cannot rest, Our army's ready; come, we'll after them. Unůl the white rose, that I wear, be dyed K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. speak.
York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already;
die.get thee gone.
Brother, thou shalt to London presently, K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.. with me?
Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk, Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. And tell him privily of our intent.Prince. When I return with victory from the You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, field,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: I'll see your grace: till then, I'll follow her.
In them I trust; for they are soldiers, Q. Mar. Come, son, away; we may not lin- Witty* and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
While you are thus employ'd, what' resteth [Exeunt Queen MARGARET, and the Prince. But that I seek occasion how to rise; (more, K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me, and And yet the king not privy to my drist, to her son,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster? Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
Enter a MESSENGER. Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke; Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, But, stay; What news? Why com’st thou in Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle,
such post? Tire® on the flesh of me, and of my son !
Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls The loss of those thrée lords torments my
and lords, heart:
Intend here to besiege you in your castle: I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair;- She is hard by with twenty thousand men; Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. Exé. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st
thou, that we fear them ?SCENE II.-A Room in Sandal Castle, neur My brother Montague shall post to London:
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;Wakefield, in Yorkshire.
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, und Montague. Whom we have left protectors of the king, Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give With powerful policy strengthen themselves, me leave.
And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. Edw. No, I can better play the orator.
Mont. Brother, go; I'll win them, fear it Mont. But I have reasons strong and for
And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Enter York.
(Exit. York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh MORTIMER, a strife ?
York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, What is your quarrel ? how began it first?
mine uncles ! * Peck.
* Of sound judgement.
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me;
Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
Clif. No cause ? A woman's general; What should we fear? Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. (A March ufar off.
(CLIFFORD stabs him. Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men Rut. Dii fuciant, laudis summa sit ista tua!! in order;
(Dies. And issue forth, and bid them battle straight, Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! York. Five men to twenty !-though the odds And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, be great,
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. Many a battle have I won in France,
[Exit. When as the enemy hath been ten to one; Why should I not now have the like success?
SCENE IV. The same. (Alarum. Exeunt.
Alarum.-Enter York. SCENE III.-Plains near Sandal Castle.
York. The army of the queen hath got the
field: Alurums: Excursions. Enter RUTLAND, and My uncles both are slain in rescuing ine; his TUTOR.
And all my followers to the eager foe Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their Turn back, and fy, like ships before the wind, hands!
Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes! My sons,God knows, what hath bechanced
[selves Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers. But this I know,—they have demean'd themClif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves Like men born to renown, by life, or death. thy life.'
Three times did Richard make a lane to me; As for the brat of this accursed duke,
And thrice cried,-Courage, father! fight it out! Whose father slew my father,-he shall die.
And full as oft came Edward to my side, Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. In blood of those that had encounter'd him:
With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt Clif. Soldiers, away with him. Tut. Ah, Clifford ! 'murder not this innocent And when the hardiest warriors did retire, child,
Richard cried, -Charge! and give no foot of Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
ground! [Exit, forced off by Soldiers. And cried,-A crown, or else a glorious tomb ! Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is A sceptre! or an earthly sepulchre ! it fear,
[them. With this, we charg'd' again: but, out, alas! That makes him close his eyes ?—I'll open We bodg’dt again; as I have seen a swan Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the With bootless labour swim against the tide, wretch
And spend her strength with over-matching That trembles under his devouring paws:
TA short Alurum within. And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey
Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. And I am faint, and cannot fly Hieir fury: Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And, were I strong, I would not shun their And not with such a cruel threat'ning look.
fury: Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die;– The sands are number'd, that make up my life; I am too mean a subject for thy wrati, Here must I stay, and here my life must end. Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my fa- Enter Queen Margaret, CLIFFORD, NORTHUNther's blood
BERLAND, and Soldiers. Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumbershould enter.
land, Rut. Then let my father's blood open it I dare your quenchless fury to more rage; again;
I am your butt, and I abide your shot. He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. North. Yield' to our mercy, proud Plantage. Clif. Had' I thy brethren here, their lives,
net. and thine,
Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm, Were not revenge sufficient for me;
With downright payment, show'd unto my fa. No, if I digg'd up thy forefather's graves,
ther. And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, Now Phaëton hath tumbled from his car, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. And made an evening at the noontide prick.$ The sight of any of the house of York
York. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring Is as a fury lo torment my soul;
forth And till I root out their accursed line, A bird that will revenge upon you all : (ven, And leave not one alive, I live in hell. And, in that hope, I-throw mine eyes to hea Therefore
[Lifling his hand. Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death :- Why come you not? what! multitudes, and To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me!
fear? Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou
# Since. slay me?
| Heaven grant this may be your greatest boast !
Ovid. Epist. Clif. Thy father bath.
1.e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of our Rut. But '(was ere I was born.
attempt to rally. Noontide point on the dial.
Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me farther;
sport; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their A crown for York;-and, lords, bow low to lives,
him.Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.-York. 0, Clifford, but bethink thee once
[Putting a paper Crown on his Heud. again,
Ay, marry, Sir, now looks he like a king ! And in thy thought o'er-run my former time: Ay, this is he that took king Henry's chair; And, if thou canst for blushing, view this And this is he was his adopted heir.face;
But how is it that great Plantagenet And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath! cowardice,
[this. As I bethink me, you should not be king, Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere Till our king Henry had shook hands with Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for
And will you pale* your head in Henry's glory, But buckle with thee blows, twice two for And rob his temples of the diadem,
[Draws. Now in his life, against your holy oath? Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thou- 0, 'tis a fault too, too unpardonable!sand causes,
Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his I would prolong awhile the traitor's life:
[dead.t Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Nor- And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him thumberland,
Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. North. Hold, Clifford; do not honour him Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he so much,
makes. To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: York. She-wolf of France, but worse than What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
wolves of France, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's When he might spurn him with his foot away? How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex, [tooth! It is war's prize to take all vantages;
To triumph like an Amazonian trull, And ten to one is no impeach of valour. Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates?
[They lay hands on York, who struggles. But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging, Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with Made impudent with use of evil deeds, the gin.
I would assay, proud queen, to make thee North. So doth the coney struggle in the net.
[riv'd, (York is taken prisoner. To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deYork. So triumph thieves upon their con. Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou quer'd booty;
not shameless. So true men* yield, with robbers so o'er- Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, match'd
Of both the Sicils, and 'Jerusaleur; North. What would your grace have done Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. unto him now?
Hath that poor monarch taught thée to insult? Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford, and Nor. It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud thumberland,
queen; Come make him stand upon this molehill here; Unless the adage must be verified,[death. That raughtt at mountains with outstretched That beggars, mounted, run their horse to arms,
"Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud; Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small What! was it you, that would be England's 'Tis'virtue, that doth make them most admir’d; king?
The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: Was't you that revell’d in our parliament,
'Tis government,s that makes them seem di. And made a preachment of your high descent?
vine; Where are your mess of sons to back you now? The want thereof makes thee abominable: The wanton Edward, and the lusty George ? Thou art as opposite to every good, And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, As the Antipodes are unto us, Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling Or as the south to the septentrion.|| voice,
0, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a wonian's hide! Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ? How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rut
child, land ?
(blood To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, Look, York; I stain'd this papkint with the And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? That'valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; Made issue from the bosom of the boy: Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseAnd, if thine eyes can water for his death,
(wish : I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. Bid'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, Would'st have me weep? why, now thou hast I should lament thy miserable state.
thy will: I pr’ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York; For raging wind blows up incessant showers, Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. dance.
[entrails, These tears are my sweet Rutland's obseWhat, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine quies ; That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ? Why art thou patient, man? thou should'st be mad;
* Impale, encircle with a crown. + Kill him,
The distinguishing mark. And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Government, in the language of the time, signified
evenness of temper, and decency of manners. • Hent men, + Reached. * Handkerchief.
|| The North
And every drop cries vengeance for his The rest stand all aloof, and bark at nim. death,
So fared our father with his enemies; 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford,-and thee, false So fled his enemies my warlike father; French-woman.
Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be bis son. North. Beshrew me, but his passions* move See, how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun !* That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. How well resembles it the prime of youth,
York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love? Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three with blood :
suns? But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,- Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect O, ten times more,-than tigers of Hyrcania.
sun; See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears : Not separated with the racking clouds.t This cloth thou dipp’dst in blood of my sweet But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. boy,
See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, And I with tears do wash the blood away. As if they vow'd some league inviolable: Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this : Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
(He gives back the Handkerchief. In this the heaven figures some event. And, if thou tellist the heavy story right, Edic. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears;
never heard of. Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears; I think, it cites us, brother, to the field; And say,-Alas, it was a piteous deed !-- That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, There, take the crown, and with the crown, my Each one already blazing by our meeds, curse;
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights toAnd, in thy need, such comfort come to thee,
gether, As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! And over-shine the earth, as this the world. Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world; Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! Upon my target three fair shining suns. North. Had he been slaughter-man to all my
Rich. Nay, bear three daughters ;-By your kin,
leave I speak it, I should not for my life but weep with him, You love the breeder better than the male. To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.
Enter a Messenger. Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland ?
But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Think but upon the wrong he did us all, Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. Mess. Ah, one that was a woeful looker on, Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my fa- When as the noble duke of York was slain, ther's death.
(Stabbing him. Your princely father, and my loving lord. Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-heart- Edw. O, speak no more! for I have heard ed king. [Stabbing him.
too much. York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Mess. Environed he was with many foes ; thee.
(Dies. And stood against them, as the hope of Troy Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd gates;
Troy. So York may overlook the town of York. But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
[Exeunt. And many strokes, though with a little axe,
Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak, ACT II.
By many hands your father was subdued ; SCENE 1.- A plain neur Mortimer's Cross in But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm Herefordshire.
Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen:
Who crown'd the gracious duke, in high deDrums.--Enter EDWARD, and Richard, with spight;
(wept, their Forces, marching.
Laughi'd in his face; and when with grief he Edw. I wonder how our princely father A napkin steeped in the harmless blood
The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, 'scaped, Or whether he be 'scaped away or no,
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford
slain : From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit; And, after many scorns, inany foul taunts, Had he been ta'en, we would have heard the They took his head, and on the gates of York news;
[news; They set the same; and there it doth remain, Had he been slain, we should have heard the The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. Or, had he 'scaped, methinks we should have Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean heard
upon; The happy tidings of his good escape.- Now thou art gone, we have no staff, po stay!How fares my brother ? Why is he so sad ? O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain
Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolved The flower of Europe for his chivalry;. Where our right valiant father is become.
And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, I saw bim in the battle range about; And watchd him how he singled Clifford forth. For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'a Methought he boret him in the thickest troop, Now my soul's palace is become a prison: As doth a lion in a herd of neat:
Ah, would she break from hence! that this my Or as a bear, encompass d round with dogs;
body Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry,
* Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when
she dismisses him to his diurnal course. • Sufferings.
+ Demeaned himself. + The clouds in rapid tumultuary motion. Ncat cattle, cows, oxen, &c.
Might in the ground be closed up in rest: Their weapons like to lightning came and For never henceforth shall I joy again,
went; Never, I never, shall I see more joy.
Our soldiers-like the night-owl's lazy flight, Rich. I cannot weep: for all my body's mois. Or like a lazy thrasher with a fail,-
[heart: Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great With promise of high pay, and great rewards: burden;
But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, And we, in them, no hope to win the day, Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, So that we fled: the king, unto the queen ; And burn me up with flames, that tears would Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and quench.
(you; To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: In haste, post-haste, are come to join with Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge, for in the marches here, we heard, you were, for me!-
Making another head to fight again. Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle Or die renowned by attempting it.
[England? Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left And when came George from Burgundy to with thee;
War. Some six miles off the duke is with His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
the soldiers; Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's And for your brother,-he was lately sent bird,
From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun; With aid of soldiers to this needful war. For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warsay;
wick fled : Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne'er till now, his scandal of retire. March.—Enter WARWICK and MONTAGUE, with War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost Forces.
For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of War. How now, fair lords? What fare? Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, What news abroad ?
And wring the awful sceptre from his fist; Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should Were he as famous and as bold in war, recount
As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer. Our baleful news, at each word's deliverance, Rich. I know it well, lord Warwick; blame Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,
me not: The words would add more anguish than the 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak. wounds.
But, in this troublous time, what's to be done? O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Planta- And wrap our bodies in black mourning genet,
gowns, Which held the dearly as his soul's redemp- Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beads? Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. Or shall we on the helmets of our foes War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in Tell our devotion with revengeful arms ? tears :
If for the last, say—Ay, and to it, lords. And now, to add more measure to your woes, War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek I come to tell you things since then befall’n.
you out: After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, And therefore comes my brother Montague. Where your brave father breathed his latest Attend me, lords. The vroud insulting queen, gasp,
With Clifford, and the haught* NorthumberTidings, as swiftly as the post could run,
land, Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. And of their feather, many more proud birds, I then in London, keeper of the king,
Have wrought the easy melting king, like wax. Muster'd my soldiers, gather's Hocks of He swore consent to your succession, friends,
His oath enrolled in the parliament; And very well appointed, as I thought, And now to London all the crew are gone, March'd towards Saint Albans to intercept To frustrate both his oath, and what beside the queen,
May make against the house of Lancaster, Bearing the king in my behalf along : Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: For by my scouts I was advertised,
Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, That she was coming with a full intent With all the friends that thou, brave earl of To dash our late decree in parliament,
March, Touching king Henry's oath, and your suc- Amongst the loving Welchmen canst procure, cession.
Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, Short tale to make,-we at St. Albans met, Why, Via! To London will we march amain: Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely And once again bestride our foaming steeds, fought :
And once again cry-Charge upon our foes! But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, But never once again turn back, and fly. Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great WarThat robb’d my soldiers of their hated spleen; wick speak: Or whether 'twas report of her success; Ne'er may be live to see a sunshine day, Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, That cries-Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. Who thunders to his captives-blood and Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will death,
[hour!) I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth, And when thou fall'st, (aş God forbid the