And, had he match'd according to his state, Had slipp'd our claim until another age. Here on my knee I vow to God above, Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay; These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. [Exeunt. A Field of Battle between Towton and Saxton in Yorkshire. SCENE III. Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! - Rich. Brother, give me thy hand; —and, gentle Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:- Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, SCENE IV. - The same. Field. [Exeunt. Another Part of the Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFford. Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York; Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and brother, To execute the like upon thyself; Alarum. Enter KING HENRY. K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light; What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind: Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind: Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; Now, one the better; then, another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : So is the equal poise of this fell war. Here on this molehill will I sit me down. To whom God will, there be the victory! > Be dilatory. For Margaret, my queen, and Clifford too, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, So many days my ewes have been with young; And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him. Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his Father, dragging in the dead Body. Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody. This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of crowns: And I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me. — Who's this? - O Heaven! it is my father's face, Whom in this conflict I unawares have kill'd. O heavy times, begetting such events! From London by the king was I press'd forth; My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, Have by my hands of life bereaved him. Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. — Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief. Enter a Father, who has killed his Son, with the Body in his arms. Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; grief! O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! The red rose and the white are on his face, Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied? K. Hen. How will the country, for these woful chances, Misthink the king, and not be satisfied? Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death? Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son? K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects' woe? Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my [Exit, with the Body. Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy windingsheet; fill. My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; [Exit, with the Body. K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Here sits a king more woful than you are. Alarums: Excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE OF WALES, and EXETER. Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull : Away for death doth hold us in pursuit. Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet 4 i. e. Dreadful events. Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites. A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded. Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. O, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow, More than my body's parting with my soul. My love, and fear, glu'd many friends to thee; And now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York, The common people swarm like summer flies: And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry's enemies? O Phoebus! hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth: And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, Or as thy father, and his father did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies; I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm, Had left no mourning widows for our death, And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: The foe is merciless, and will not pity; For, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity. The air hath got into my deadly wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint: Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; 1 stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. [He faints. Alarum and Retreat. Enter EDWARD, George, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers. Edw. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids us pause, And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. - [CLIFFORD groans and dies. Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. Edw. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd. Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murdering knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, I mean our princely father, duke of York. War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father's head, which Clifford placed there: Instead whereof, let this supply the room; Measure for measure must be answered. Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours: War. I think his understanding is bereft : Because he would avoid such bitter taunts, Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's head, So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.-A Chase in the North of England. Enter two Keepers, with Cross-bows in their Hands. 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves; For through this laund 7 anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy crossbow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best : And, for the time shall not seem tedious, I'll tell thee what befell me on a day, In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be past. Enter KING HENRY, disguised, with a Prayer-book. K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick 2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings and queens? K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to: A man at least, for less I should not be ; 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough. 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd, content; A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. 2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, Your crown content, and you, must be contented K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an oath? 2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not now. K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king of England? 2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now remain. K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old; And you were sworn true subjects unto me: My father and my grandfather, were kings; And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths? For we were subjects but while you were king. 1 Keep. No; K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man? Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. By this account, then, Margaret may win him; For she's a woman to be pitied much : 7 A plain extended between woods, Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; And be you kings; command and I'll obey. 1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king Edward. K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, If he were seated as king Edward is. 1 Keep. We charge you in God's name, and in the king's, To go with us unto the officers. K. Hen. In God's name lead; your king's name SCENE II. - London. A Room in the Palace. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, and Lady GREY. K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror : Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant her suit; It were dishonour, to deny it her. K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. Glo. Yea! is it so ? I see, the lady hath a thing to grant, Before the king will grant her humble suit. Cla. He knows the game; How true he keeps the wind? Glo. Silence ! [Aside. Aside. K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit; And come some other time, to know our mind. L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay: May it please your highness to resolve me now; Glo. [Aside.] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant you all your lands, An if what pleases him, shall pleasure you. K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow? tell me. L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. K. Edw. 'Twere pity they should lose their father's land. L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. K. Edw. Lords, give us leave; I'll try this widow's wit. Glo. Ay, good leave have you; for you will have leave, Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. [GLOSTER and CLARENCE retire to the other side. K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love your children? L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. K. Edw. And would you not do much to do them good? L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some harm. K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to do them good. L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness' service. K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I give them? L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me to do. K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon. L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace commands. Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble. [Aside. Clar. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must melt. [Aside. L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear my task? K. Edw. An easy task: 'tis but to love a king. L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject. K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee. L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a curt'sy. K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants. K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. L. Grey. Why then you mean not as I thought you did. K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind. L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands. L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower; For by that loss I will not purchase them. K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily. L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. But, mighty lord, this merry inclination K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt say ay, to my request: No; if thou dost say no, to my demand. L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. Glo. The widow likes him not; she knits her brows. Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. [Aside. [Aside. K. Edw. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her replete with modesty ; Her words do show her wit imcomparable; I am a subject fit to jest withal, K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee, I speak no more than what my soul intends; L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto. K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen. L. Grey. 'Twill grieve your grace, my sons should call you father. K. Edw. No more, than when thy daughters call thee mother. Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. K. Edw. You'd think it strange if I should marry her. Clar. To whom, my lord? |