Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy
mother, boy!

Canst thou not speak?—O traitors! murtherers!—
They that stabb'd Cæsar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man: this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murtherer, that I may name
it ?

No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak:
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up re-

morse:

But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young
prince!

K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here;

Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death:

What! wilt thou not ?-then, Clarence, do it thou.

Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much

case.

Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:

'Twas sin before, but now 't is charity. What

wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,

Hard-favour'd Richard ? Richard, where art

thou?

Thou art not here: Murther is thy alms-deed;

Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence.

Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince ! [Exit, led out forcibly.

K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.

Now march we hence: discharge the common sort

With pay and thanks, and let's away to London,
And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

[Exeunt.

A Room in the Tower.

SCENE VI.-London.
KING HENRY is discovered sitting, with a book in
his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter
GLOSTER.

Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say, rather:

'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better: Good Gloster and good devil were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord.

Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer. [Exit Lieutenant, K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from

the wolf:

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a bush,

With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush :
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye,
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught,
and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of
Crete,

That taught his son the office of a fowl;
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.
K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.

Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic history.
But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?
Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;
If murthering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd when first
thou did'st presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a
widow's,

And many an orphan's water-standing eye,-
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands',
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,-
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down
trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigested and deformed lump,"
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.

Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,

To signify thou com'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st-

Glo. I'll hear no more :-Die, prophet, in thy
speech:
[Stabs him.

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter

after this.

O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies. Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster

Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.

See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!

O, may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfal of our house! If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither. [Stabs him again. a We point this passage in the belief that "timeless death" is connected not only with parents', but with husbands' and sons'.

b This line stands thus in the folio. Malone printed"To wit, an indigest deformed lump."

I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 't is true that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd: and the women cried,
'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!'
And so I was; which plainly signified
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word love, which greybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the
light;

But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.-The same. A Room in the Palace. KING EDWARD is discovered sitting on his throne; QUEEN ELIZABETH, with the infant PRINCE, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and others, near him.

K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne,

Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.

What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride!
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;
And two Northumberlands: two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's
sound:

With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and
Montague,

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night;

Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,

Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit: To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master; And cried-all hail! when as he meant-all harm. [Aside.

K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves. Clar. What will your grace have done with Margaret ?

Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.

K. Edo. Away with her, and waft her hence to France.

And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befit the pleasure of the court?
Sound, drums and trumpets!-farewell, sour

Or the battle of Barnet the following is Hall's description:

"When the day began to spring the trumpets blew courageously and the battle fiercely began. Archers first shot, and bill-men them followed. King Edward, having the greater number of men, valiantly set on his enemies. The earl on the other side, remembering his ancient fame and renown, manfully withstood him. This battle on both sides was sore fought and many slain, in whose rooms succeeded ever fresh and fresh men. In the mean season, while all men were together by the ears, ever looking to which way fortune would incline, the Earl of Warwick, after long fight, wisely did perceive his men to be over pressed with the multitude of his adversaries; wherefore he caused new men to relieve them that fought in the forward, by reason of which succours King Edward's part gave a little back (which was the cause that some lookers-on, and no fighters, galloped to London, saying that the earl had won the field), which thing when Edward did perceive, he with all diligence sent fresh men to their succours.

"If the battle were fierce and deadly before, now it was crueller, more bloody, more fervent and fiery, and yet they had fought from morning almost HISTORIES.-VOL. II.

P

to noon without any part getting advantage of other. King Edward, being weary of so long a conflict and willing to see an end, caused a great crew of fresh men (which he had for this only policy kept all day in store) to set on their enemies, in manner being weary and fatigate: but although the earl saw these new succours of fresh and new men to enter the battle, being nothing afraid, but hoping of the victory (knowing perfectly that there was all King Edward's power), comforted his men, being weary, sharply quickening and earnestly desiring them with hardy stomachs to bear out this last and final brunt of the battle, and that the field was even at an end. But when his soldiers, being sore wounded, wearied with so long a conflict, did give little regard to his words, he, being a man of a mind invincible, rushed into the midst of his enemies, where as he (aventured so far from his own company to kill and slay his adversaries that he could not be rescued) was in the middle of his enemies stricken down and slain. The Marquis Montacute, thinking to succour his brother, which he saw was in great jeopardy, and yet in hope to obtain the victory, was likewise overthrown and slain. After the earl was dead his party fled, and many were taken, but not one man of name nor of nobility."

209

The most curious accounts, both of the battles of Barnet and Tewkesbury, and indeed of all this rapid counter-revolution, which has scarcely a parallel in our English annals, are to be found in a contemporary narrative published by the Camden Society. Neither that narrative, nor the Ghent MS., which is an abridgment of it, were probably accessible to Shakspere. We must therefore still be content to trace him in Hall and Holinshed. The following graphic account of the battle of Tewkesbury is from Hall:

"After the field ended King Edward made a proclamation that whosoever could bring Prince Edward to him, alive or dead, should have an annuity of an cl. during his life, and the prince's life to be saved. Sir Richard Croftes, a wise and a valiant knight, nothing mistrusting the king's former promise, brought forth his prisoner Prince Edward, being a goodly feminine and a well-featured young gentleman, whom when King Edward had well advised, he demanded of him how he durst so presumptuously enter into his realm with banner displayed. The prince, being bold of stomach and of a good courage, answered, saying, To recover my

father's kingdom and inheritage from his father and grandfather to him, and from him, after him, to me lineally divoluted. At which words, King Edward said nothing, but with his hand thrust him from him (or, as some say, stroke him with his gauntlet), whom incontinent they that strode about, which were George Duke of Clarence, Richard Duke of Gloucester, Thomas Marquis Dorset, and William Lord Hastings, suddenly murdered and piteously mangled. The bitterness of which murder some of the actors after in their latter days tasted and essayed by the very rod of justice and punishment of God. His body was homely interred with the other simple corpses in the church of the monastery of Black Monks in Tewkesbury. This was the last civil battle that was fought in King Edward's days, which was gotten the iii day of May, in the x year of his reign, and in the year of our Lord Mcccclxxi then being Saturday. And on the Monday next ensuing was Edmund Duke of Somerset, John Longstrother, Prior of Saint John's, Sir Garveys Clifton, Sir Thomas Tresham, and xii other knights and gentlemen beheaded in the market-place at Tewkesbury."