Obrázky stránek
PDF
ePub

Queen. Off with his head and fet it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York.

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.

Near Mortimer's Cross in Wales.

A March. Enter Edward, Richard, and their Power.

I

EDWARD.

Wonder, how our princely father 'scap'd,

Or whether he be 'fcap'd away, of no,
From Clifford's and Northumberland's purfuit?

Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news;
Had he been flain, we fhould have heard the news;
Or had he 'fcap'd, methinks, we should have heard
The happy tidings of his good efcape.

How fares my brother? why is he fo fad?
Rich. I cannot joy, until I be refolv'd
Where our right valiant father is become.
I faw him in the battle range about;

And watch'd him, how he fingled Clifford forth;
Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop,
As doth a Lion in a herd of Neat;

Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,
Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry,
The reft ftand all aloof, and bark at him.
So fared our father with his enemies,
So fled his enemies my warlike father;
'Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his fon.
See, how the morning opes her golden gates,

5 Methinks 'tis PRIZE enough to be bis fon.] The old quarto reads PRIDE, which is right, for ambition. i. e. We need not aim at any higher glory than this. WARBURTON.

I believe prize is the right word. Richard's fenfe is, though we have miffed the prize for which we fought, we have yet an honour left that may con

tent us.

And

1

And takes her farewel of the glorious fun; How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trim'd like a yonker prancing to his love?

Edw. Dazzle mine eyes? or do I see three funs? Rich. Three glorious funs, each one a perfect fun; Not feparated with the racking clouds,

But fever'd in a pale clear-fhining sky.

See, fee, they join, embrace and seem to kiss,
As if they vow'd fome league inviolable;
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one fun.
In this the heaven figures fome event,

Edw. 'Tis wondrous itrange, the like yet never heard of.

I think, it cites us, brother, to the field;
That we the fons of brave Plantagenet,
Each one already 7 blazing by our meeds,
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together,
And over-fhine the earth, as this the world.
Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
Upon my target three fair fhining funs.

Rich. Nay, bear three daughters.-By your leave,
I fpeak it,

You love the breeder better than the male.

Enter a Messenger.

But what art thou, whofe heavy looks foretel
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?

Mef. Ah! one that was a woful looker on,
When as the noble Duke of York was flain;
Your princely father, and my loving Lord.

And takes ber farenwel of the glorious fun.] Aurora takes for a time her farewel of the fun, when the difmiffes him to his diurnal courfe.

7 Blazing by our meeds.] Il

luftrious and fhining by the ar-
morial enfigns granted us as
meeds of our great exploits.
It might be plausibly read,
Blazing by our deeds.

Edw.

Edw. Oh, fpeak no more! for I have heard tod much.

Rich Say, how he died; for I will hear it all.
Mef. Environed he was with many foes,
And stood against them as the hope of Troy
Against the Greeks that would have entred Troy.
But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
And many ftroaks, though with a little ax,
Hew down and fell the hardeft-timber'd oak.

By many hands your father was fubdu❜d,
But only flaughter'd by the ireful arm
Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen ;
Who crown'd the gracious duke in high defpight;
Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept,
The ruthless Queen gave him to dry his cheek,
A napkin fteeped in the harmless blood

Of fweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford flain:
And, after many fcorns, many foul taunts,
They took his head, and on the Gates of York
They fet the fame; and there it doth remain
The faddeft fpectacle that e'er I view'd.

Edw. Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon,
Now thou art gone, we have no ftaff, no stay.
Oh Clifford, boift'rous Clifford! thou haft flain
The flower of Europe for his chivalry,

And treacherously haft thou vanquish'd him ;

For, hand to hand, he would have vanquifh'd thee. Now my foul's palace is become a prifon :

Ah, would the break from hence, that this my body
Might in the ground be clofed up in reft!

For never henceforth fhall I joy again,
Never, oh never, fhall I fee more joy.

Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture
Scarce ferves to quench my furnace-burning heart;
Nor can my tongue
unload my heart's great burden,

[ocr errors][merged small][merged small][merged small]

For felf-fame wind that I should speak withal,
Is kindling coals that fire up all my breaft;

And burn me up with flames, that tears would quench.
To weep is to make lefs 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 hath left with thee: His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

Rich. If thou be that princely Eagle's bird,
Shew thy defcent, by gazing 'gainst the fun,
For chair and dukedoms throne and kingdom fay,
Either that's thine, or else thou wert not his.

SCENE II.

March. Enter Warwick, Marquis of Montague,
and their army.

War. How now, fair Lords? what fare? what news abroad?

Rich. Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and at each word's deliv'rance Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told;

The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant Lord, the Duke of York is flain.

Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! That Plantagenet, Which held thee dearly as his foul's redemption, Is by the ftern Lord Clifford done to death.

War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; And now, to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things fith then befaln. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breath'd his latest gafp, Tidings as fwiftly as the poft could run, Were brought me of your lofs and his depart. I then in London, keeper of the King, Mufter'd my Soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, March'd towards St. Albans t'intercept the Queen,

Bear

your

Bearing the King in my behalf along;
For by my scouts I was advertised
That the was coming with a full intent
To dash our late decree in parliament,
Touching King Henry's oath, and fucceffion.
Short tale to make, we at St. Alban's met,
Our battles join'd, and both fides fiercely fought:
But whether 'twas the coldness of the King,
Who look'd full gently on his warlike Queen,
That robb'd my foldiers of their hated fpleen;
Or whether 'twas report of her fuccefs,

Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,
Who thunders to his captives blood and death,
I cannot judge; but to conclude with truth,
Their weapons, like to lightning, came and went;
Our foldiers, like the night-owl's lazy flight,
Or like a lazy threfher with a flail,

Fell gently down, as if they ftruck their friends.
I cheer'd them up with juftice of our cause,
With promife of high pay and great reward;
But all in vain, they had no heart to fight,
And we, in them no hope to win the day;
So that we filed; the King, unto the Queen;
Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself,
In hafte, poft-hafte, 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 War-
wick?

And when came George from Burgundy to England?
War. Some fix miles off the Duke is with his power;
And for your brother, he was lately fent

From your kind aunt, Dutchefs of Burgundy,
With aid of foldiers to this needful war.

Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled;

Like the night-orvi's lazy flight.] This image is not very congruous to the fubject,

nor was it neceffary to the comparifon, which is happily enough compleated by the threfher.

Oft

« PředchozíPokračovat »