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Have caus'd him by new act of parliament
Clif. And reason too.
Rich. Are you there, butcher?-O, I cannot speak.
Clif. Ay, Crook back, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy fort. Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it
not? Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfy’d. Rich. For God's take, Lords, give signal to the fight. War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the
crown? Queen. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick,
dare you 1peak ? When you and I met at St. Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands.
. War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. Clif. You said fo much before, and yet you fied. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me
thence. North. No, nor your manhood, that durft make
-Break off the parle, for scarce I can refrain
Clif. I New thy father, call'st thou him a child ?
Rich. Ay, like a daftard and a treacherous coward, As thou didnt kill our tender brother Rutland; But, ere fun-fct, I'll make thee curse the deed. K. Henry, Have done with words, my Lords, and
hear me speak. Queen. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.
K. Henry. 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:
Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have right, or no?
War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head!
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.
Queen. But thou art neither like thy fire nor dam,
Rich. Iron of Naples hid with English gilt,
I am resolv’d] It is my which thou railest at my defirm persuasion; I am no longer formity. in doubt.
9 A wisp of fraw.) I suppose + To let shy tongue detect] To for an instrument of correction how thy meannels of birth by that might disgrace but not hurt she indecency of language with her.
And had he matcht according to his State,
Edw. And in this resolution I defy thee 3
deny'st the gentle King to speak. --Sound trumpets, let our bloody colours wave, And either Victory, or else a Grave.
Queen. Stay, Edward
Edw. No, wrangling Woman, we'll no longer stay. These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
? We saw our sun-fhine made we received no advantage from thy spring,
thy fortune flourishing by our And :hat thy summer bred us no favour, we then resolved to de
increase.) When we faw Atroy thee, and determine to try that by favouring thee we made some other means, though our thee grow in fortune, but that first efforts have failed.
Changes 19 a Field of Battle at Ferribridge in Yorkshire.
War. F -as ,
Alarm. Excurhons. Enter Warwick. War.
I lay me down a little while to breathe, For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, Have robb’d my strong-knit finews of their strengt!; And, spight of spight, needs must I rest a while.
Enter Edward running, Edw. Smile, gentle heav'n! or strike, ungentle
death! For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. War. How now, my Lord, what hap? what hope of good?
Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are, and cannot fun pursuit,
Enter Richard. Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thy
felf? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
• Thy Brother's Blood the thirsty Salisbury, Warwick's Father.
Earth hath drunk,] This But this was a notorious Devia. Passage, from the Variation of tion from the Truth of History. the Copies, gave me no little for the Earl of Salisbury in the Perplexity. The old 4to applies Battle at Wakefield, wherein Richa this Description to the Death of ard Duke of York los his Life,
Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance,
War. Then let the Earth be drunken with our blood;
Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chain my soul with thine. And ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou Setter up, and Plucker down, of Kings! Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that thy brazen gates of heav'n may ope, And give sweer passage to my sinful soul. Now, Lords, take leave until we meet again ; Where-e'er it be, in heaven or on earth.
was taken Prisoner, beheaded at The truth is, the Brother here Pomfret, and his Head, together mention'd, is no Person in the with the Duke of York's, fix'd Drama : and his Death is only over York-gates. Then, the only an incidental Piece of History. Brother of Warwick, introduc'd Consulting the Chronicles, upon in this Play, is the Marquess of this A&ion at Perribridge, I find Montacule; (or Mountague, as he him to have been a na:ural Son is call'd by our Author :) but he of Salisbury, (in that respect, a does not dye, till ten years after, Brother to Warwick;) and elin the Baitle at Barnet; where teem'd a valiant young GentleWarwick likewise was ki!l'd. man.