Norf. And I to Norfolk with my Followers. Mount. And I unto the Sea from whence I came. [Exe. K. Henry. And I with grief and forrow to the Court. Enter the Queen, and the Prince of Wales. Exe. Here comes the Queen, Whofe looks bewray her anger: I'll steal away. [Going. K. Henry. Exeter fo will I: Prince. Father, you cannot difinherit me: K. Henry. Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, fweet Son; The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforc'd me. Queen. Enforc'd thee? art thou King,and wilt be forc'd? I fhame to hear thee fpeak; ah timorous Wretch! Thou haft undone thy felf, thy Son, and me, And given unto the House of York fuch head, As thou fhalt Reign but by their fufferance. To entail him and his Heirs unto the Crown, What is it, but to make thy Sepulchre, And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor, and the Lord of Calais, Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow Seas, The Duke is made Protector of the Realm, And yet fhalt thou be fafe? fuch fafety finds The trembling Lamb, invironed with Wolves. Had I been there, which am a filly Woman, The Soldiers fhould have tofs'd me on their Pikes, Before I would have granted to that A&. But But thou preferr'ft thy Life before thine honour. The Northern Lords, that have forfworn thy Colours, Thus do I leave thee; come Son, let's away, Our Army is ready, come, we'll after them. K. Henry. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. Queen. Thou haft fpoke too much already; get thee gone. K. Henry. Gentle Son Edward, thou wilt ftay with me? Queen. Ay, to be murther'd by his Enemies. Prince. When I return with Victory from the Field, I'll fee your Grace; 'till then I'll follow her. Queen. Come, Sor, away, we may not linger thus. [Exeunt Queen and Prince. K. Henry. Poor Queen, How love to me, and to her Son, Hath made her break out into terms of Rage. [Exit. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague. Tork. Why, how now Sons and Brother, at a ftrife? Edw. No Quarrel, but a flight Contention. Tork. About what? Rich. About that which concerns your Grace and us, The Crown of England, Father, which is yours. York. Tork. Mine, Boy? not 'till King Henry be dead. York. I took an Oath, that he should quietly Reign. Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me fpeak. That hath Authority over him that Swears. And all that Poets feign of Blifs and Joy. You, Edward, fhall unto my Lord Cobham, Witty, courteous, liberal, full of Spirit. While you are thus employ'd, what refteth more, And yet the King not privy to my drift, Nor any of the House of Lancaster. Enter Gabriel. But ftay what News? why com'ft thou in fuch post? Gab. The Queen, With With all the Northern Earls and Lords, What, think'ft thou that we fear them? [Exis Montague, The Army of the Queen means to befiege us. Sir John. She fhall not need, we'll meet her in the Field. York. What, with five thousand Men? Rich. Ay, with five hundred, Father, for a need. A Woman's General; what should we fear? Edw. I hear their Drums: Let's fet our Men in order, [A march afar off. And iffue forth, and bid them Battel ftreight. I doubt not, Uncle, of our Victory. Many a Battel have I won in France, When as the Enemy hath been ten to one: Why should I not now have the like Succefs? [Alarum. Enter Rutland and his Tutor. great, Rut. Ah, whether fhall I flie, to scape their Hands? Ah, Tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes. Enter Clifford. Clif. Chaplain, away, thy Priefthood faves thy Life; As for the Brat of this accurfed Duke, Whofe Father flew my Father, he shall die. Tutor. And I, my Lord, will bear him Company. Exit. Clif. Soldiers, away with him. Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child, Left thou be hated both of God and Man. Clif. How now? is he dead already?. Or is it fear that makes him close his Eyes? Rut. So looks the pent-up Lyon o'er the wretch, Rut. Then let my Father's Blood open it again, [Exit. Clif. Had I thy Brethren here, their Lives and thine No, if I digg'd up thy Fore-fathers Graves, And 'till I root out their accurfed Line, Rut. O let me pray before I take my Death: Rut. But 'twas e'er I was born. Thou haft one Son, for his fake pity me, Ah, let me live in Prifon all my Days, Then |