Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind ; Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; To carve out dials queintly, point by point, up the year, So many days, my ewes have been with young; So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months and years, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah! what a life were this! how fweet, how lovely! Το To Kings, that fear their fubjects' treachery? When care, mistruft and treafons wait on him. Alarm. Enter a Son, that had kill'd his Father. Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits no body. This man, whom hand to hand I flew in fight, May be poffeffed with fome ftore of crowns; And I that, haply, take them from him now, May yet, ere night, yield both my life and them To fome man elfe, as this dead man doth me. Who's this! oh God! it is my father's face, Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd: Oh heavy times, begetting fuch events! From London by the King was I preft forth; My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, preft by his mafter; 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 fhall wipe away thefe bloody marks': And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. K. Henry. O piteous fpectacle! O bloody times! Whiles 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'er-charg'd with grief. Enter Enter a Father, bearing his Son. Fath. Thou, that so ftoutly haft refifted me, Throw up thine eyes; fee, fee, what fhowers arife, What ftratagems, how fell, how butcherly, K. H. Woe above woe; grief, more than common grief? The red rofe and the white are on his face, The one his purple blood right well refembles, Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, Take on with me, and ne'er be fatisfy'd? Fath. How will my wife, for flaughter of my fon, Shed feas of tears, and ne'er be fatisfy'd K. Hen. How will the country, for these woful chances, Mif-think the King, and not be fatisfy'd? Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death? Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd his fon ? K. Henry. Was ever King, fo griev'd for fubjects' woe? Much is your forrow; mine, ten times fo much. Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. [Exit. Fath. Fath. Thefe arms of mine fhall be thy winding-fheet, I'll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will; [Exit. K. Henry. Sad-hearted men, much over-gone with care, Here fits a King more woeful than you are. Alarms. Excurfions. Enter the Queen, 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. Queen. Mount you, my Lord, towards Berwick poft amain. Edward and Richard, like a brace of grey-hounds Exe. Away; for vengeance comes along with them. Nay, ftay not to expoftulate, make speed: Or elfe come after, I'll away before. K. Henry. Nay, take me with thee, good fweet Exeter ; Not that I fear to ftay, but love to go Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away! [Exeunt. A loud Alarm. Enter Clifford wounded. Clif. Here burns my candle out: ay, here it dies, Which, while it lafted, gave King Henry light. O Lancafter! I fear thy overthrow, More than my body's parting with my foul. My love and fear glew'd many friends to thee; [Falling. And, And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt, ; Giving no ground unto the house of York, And much effufe of blood doth make me faint: Alarm, and Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Ed. Now breathe we, Lords, good fortune bids us pause And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. Some troops purfue the bloody-minded Queen, That led calm Henry, though he were a King, As doth a fail, fill'd with a fretting guft, Command an Argofie to ftem the waves. But think you, Lords, that Clifford fled with them? War. No, 'tis impoffible he fhould efcape: For though before his face I speak the word, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the gravę : And |