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The earl of Warwick, and the duke, enforc'd me. What is your quarrel? how began it first? Queen. Enforc'd thee! art thou king, and wilt Edw. No quarrel, but a sweet contention *. be forc'd?

York. About what?

[and us; I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! Rich. About that which concerns your grace Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me; 5 The crown of England, father, which is yours. And given unto the house of York such head, York. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be dead. As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. Rich. Your right depends not on his life or death. To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: What is it, but to make thy sepulchre,

By giving the house of Lancasterleave to breathe, And creep into it far before thy time? 10 It will out-run you, father, in the end. Warwick is chancellor, and the lord of Calais; York. I took an oath that he should quietly reign. Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas; Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be The duke is made protector of the realm :

broken: And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds I'd break a thousand oaths to reign one year. The trembling lamb, environed with wolves.


Rich. No; God forbid, your grace should be Had I been there, which am a silly woman,

forsworn! The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes, York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. Before I would have granted to that act.

Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour:

speak. And, seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself, 20 York. Thou can'st not, son; it is impossible. Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took Until that act of parliament be repeald,

Before a true and lawful magistrate, Whereby my son is disinherited.'

That hath authority over hiin that swears : The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours, Henry had none, but did usurp the place; Will follow mine, if once they see them spread: 25 Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, And spread they shall be; to thy foul disgrace, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. And utter ruin of the house of York.

Therefore, to arins: And, father, do but think, Thus do I leave thee :-Come, son, let's away; How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; Our army's ready; come, we'll after them. Within whose circuit is Elysium, K. Henry. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me 30 And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. speak.

[thee gone.

Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest, Queen. Thou hast spoke too much already; get Until the white rose, that I wear, be dy'd K. Henry. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. with me?

York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.Queen. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. 35 Brother, thou shalt to London presently,

Prince. When I return with victoryfromthefield, And whet on Warwick to this enterprize.--I'll see your grace: 'till then, I'll follow her. Thou, Richard, shalt to the duke of Norfolk, Queen. Come, son, away; we may not linger And tell him privily of our intent.

thus. [Exeunt Queen and Prince. You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, K. Henry. Poor queen! how love to me, and to 40 With whom the Kentish men will willingly rise : her son,

In them I trust; for they are soldiers, Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Witty', and courteous, liberal, full of spirit. — Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke; While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, But that I seek occasion how to rise; Will coast my crown', and, like an empty eagle, 45 And yet the king not privy to my drift, Tire ? on the flesh of me, and of my son! Nor any of the house of Lancaster? The loss of those three lords torments my heart:

Enter a Messenger. I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair ;- But, stay; What news? Why com’st thou in such Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.

[lords, Exe. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. 150, Gab. The queen, with all the northern earls and

[Exeunt. Intend here to besiege you in your castle :

She is hard by with twenty thousand men;

And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire. York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st
Enter Edward, Richard, and Montague, 551

thou, that we fear them? Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;leave.

My brother Montague shall post to London ; Edw. No, I can better play the orator. Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible. Whom we have left protectors of the king, Enter the Duke of York.

60 With powerful policy strengthen themselves, York. Why, how now, sons, and brother, at a And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. strife?

Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not : j.e. hover over or range about my crowa. 2 To tire may either mean to fasten, to fix the talons, from the French tirer; or to peck. s viz. Northuinberland, Westmoreland, and Clifford.

Meaning, that the argument of their dispute was upon a grateful topic, viz. the question of their father's iminediate right to the crown. Witty would here seem to mean, of sound judgement.



And thus most humbly I do take my leave. It could not slake mine ire, nor case my heart.

[Erit Montague. The sight of any of the house of York Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. Is as a fury to torment my soul; York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine And 'till I root out their accursed line, uncles !

5 And leave not one alive, I live in hell. You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; Therefore

[Lifting his hand. The army of the queen means to besiege us. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death:Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! in the field.

Clif.Such pity as iny rapier's point átfords. [me? York. What, with five thousand men? 10 Rút. I never did thee harın; why wilt thou slay

Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. Clif: Thy father hath. A woman's general; What should we fear?

Rut. But 'twas ere I was born.'

(A march afur of Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our inen in Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith God is just order;

15 He be as miscrably slain as I. And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. Ah, let me live in prison all my days; York. Five men to twenty !--though the odds And when I give occasion of offence, be great,

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.

Clif. No cause ! Many a battle have I won in France, 20|Thy father slew iny father; therefore, die. When as the enemy hath been ten to one;

[Clifford stabs linn, Why should I not pow have the like success? Rut. ' Dii fuciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ ! [Alarum. Exeunt.

(Dies. Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet ! SCENE III.

25 And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, A Field of Battle, betwixt Sandal Castle and Shall rust upon my weapon, 'till thy blood, Wakeficla.

Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.

[Exit. Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly,to’scape their hands!

Ah, tutor! look where bloody Cliiford comes! 30
Enter Clifford and Soldiers.

Alarum. Enter Richard Duke of York.
Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy York. The army of the queen hath got the field:
As for the brat of this accursed duke - [life. My uncles? both are slain in rescuing me;
Whose father slew my father, he shall die. And all my followers to the eager foe

Tutor. And I, my lord, will bear him company. 35 Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, Clif. Soldiers, away, and drag him hence per- Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. force.

[child, Mysons-God knows what hath bechanced them: Tutor. Ah, Clifford ! murder not this innocent But this I know,—they have demean'd themselves Lest thou be hated both of God and man. Like men born to renown, by life, or death.

[Exit, dragg'd of: 40 Three times did Richard make a lane to ine; Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it And thrice cry'd-Courage, father! fight it out! fear,

And full as oft came Edward to my side, That makes himn close his eyes?-I'll open them. With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt

Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch In blood of those that bad encounter'd him : That trembles under his devouring paws: 45 And when the hardiest warriors did retire, And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey: Richardcry'd_Charge! and give nofortof ground! And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.- And cry'd- A crown, or else a glorious tomb ! Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre ! And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas ! Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die ;- 50 We bodg'd' again; as I have seen a swan I am too mean a subject for thy wrath,

With bootless labour swim against the tide, Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. And spend her strength with over-matching Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my fa

[A short alarum within. ther's blood

[enter. Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue ; Math stopp'd the passage where thy words should 55 And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury:

Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again; And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury. He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. [thine, The sands are number'd, that make up my life;

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and Here must I stay, and here my life must end. Were not revenge sufficient for me:

Enter the Queen, Clifford, Northumberland, No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,


and Soldiers. And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, Come,bloody Clifford, -rough Northumberland,

This line is in Ovid's Epistle from Phillis ta Demophoon. 2 These were two bastard uneles by the mother's side, Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. ? i e. we failed or miscarried again.






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I dare your quenchless fury to more rage ;

Made issue from the bosom of the boy : I am your butt, and I abide

your shot.

And, if thine eyes can water for his death,
North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm, Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly,
With downright payment, shew'd unto my father. 5 I should lament thy miserable state.
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,

I pr’ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York. And made an evening at the noon-tide prick'. What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails,

York. My ashes, as the phænix, may bring forth That not a tear could fall for Rutland's death? A bird that will revenge upon you all:

Why art thou patient,man? thou should'st be mad; And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven, 10 And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. Why come you not? what! inultitudes, and fear: Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport; Clif. So 'cowards fight, when they can fly no York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. further ;

Acrown for York;-and, lords, bow low to him.So doves do peck the faulcon's piercing talons: 115 Hold up his hands, whilst I do set it on.So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,

.[Putting a paper crown on his head. Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!

York. O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again, Ay, this is he that took king Henry's chair; And in thy thought o'er-run my foriner time: And this is he was his adopted heir.And, if thou can'st for blushing, view this face; 20 But how is it, that great Plantagenet And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cow- Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? ardice,

[this. As I bethink me, you should not be king, Whose frown hath made thee faint and Ay ere 'Till our king Henry had shook hands with death.

Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word; And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. 25 And rob his temples of the diadem,

[Draws. Now in his life, against your holy oath? Queen. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand 0, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable !I would prolonga while the traitor's life: [causes, Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his head; Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northum- And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. berland.

[much, 30 Clif. That is my office, for my father's death. North. Hold, Clifford ! do not honour him so Queen. Nay,stay; let's hear the orisons he makes. To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,

of France,

For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's
When he might spurn him with his foot away? 35 How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex,
It is war's prize to take all vantages;

To triumph, like an Amazonian trull,
And ten to one is no impeach of valour. Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates !

[They lay hands on York, rxho struggles. But that thy face is, vizor-like, unchanging, Clif.Ay, ay,so strives the woodcock with the gin. Made impudent with use of evil deeds, North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. 40 ( would assay, proud queen, to make thce blush:

[York is taken prisoner. Totellthee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd, York. So triumph thieves upon their conquera Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou booty!

not shameless. So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd. Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, North. What would your grace have done unto 45 of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem; him now?


Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Queen. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northum- Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ? Come make bim stand upon this mole-hill here: It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen ; Thatraught‘at mountains with out-stretched arins Unless the adage must be verify'd, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. - 50 That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. What! was it you, that would be England's king: 'Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud; Was't you, that revell’d in our parliament, But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small : And made a preachment of your high descent? "Tis virtue that doth make them most adınir'd; Where are your mess of sons, to back you now? The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at; The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? 55 "Tis government, that makes them seem divine; And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, The want thereof makes thee abominable: Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling voice, Thou art as opposite to every good, Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?

As the Antipodes ate unto us, Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland: Or as the south to the septentrion. Look, York; I stain'd this napkin' with the blood 60 Oh, tyger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, How could'st thou dram the life-blood of the child,

Or, noon-tide point on the dial. i.e. that reach'd, raught being the ancient preterite and participle passive of reach. ? A napkin is a handkerchief. . Government here signifies evenness of temper, and decency of manners.



To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,

Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears ; And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Yea, even my foe will shed fast-falling tears, Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; And say,-Alas, it was a piteous deed! (curse; Thou stern, obdurate, Ainty, rough, remorseless. There, take the crown, and with the crown, my Bidst thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: 5 And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy As now I reap at thy too cruel hand ! Forraging wind blows up incessant showers, [will. Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world; And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ; North. Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, And every drop cries vengeance for his death.- 101 should not for my life but wetp with him, Gainst thee, fell Clifford,—and thee, false French- To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. woman,

Queen. What, weeping ripe, my lord NorthumNorth. Beshrew me, but his passions move me so,

berland? That hardly can I check mine eyes from tears. Think but upon the wrong he did us all,

York. That face of his the hungry cannibals 15 And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's with blood:


[Stabbing him. But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, Queen. And here's to right our gentle-hearted O, ten times more,—than tygers of Hyrcania.


[Stubs him. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: 20 York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God!-This cloth thou dipp'st in blood of my swect boy! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out And lo! with tears I wash the blood away.


Dies. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this:

Queen.Off with his head, and set it on York gates; (He gires back the tandherchief. So York may overlook the town of York. And, if tha tellist the heavy story right,



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Edr. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns Near Mortimer's Cross in Wales.

Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect

35 Not separated by the racking clouds”, [sun; á march. Enter Edward, Richard, and their

power. But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. Wonder, how ourprincely father'scap'd; See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,

Or whether he be scap'd away, or no, As if they vow'd some league inviolable: From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit : Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. Had he been ta'en, weshould have heard the news; 40 In this the heaven figures some event. [heard of. Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never Or, had he 'scap'd, methinks we should have heard I think, it cites us, brother, to the field; The happy tidings of his good escape.

That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
How fares our brother? why is he so sad ? Each one already blazing by our meeds ',

Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd 45 Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together,
Where our right valiant father is become. And over-shine the earth, as this the world.
I saw him in the battle range about;

Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
And watch'd him, how he singled Clifford forth. Upon my target three fair shining suns.
Miethought he bore him in the thickest troop, Rich. Nay, bear three daughters;-by your
As doth a lion in a herd of neat ;

leave I speak it, Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; You love the breeder better than the male. Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry,

Enter a Messenger. The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel So far'd our father with his enemics;

Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue ? So tled his enemies my warlike father;

155 Mes. Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on, Methinks, 'tis prize' enough to be his son. When as the noble duke of York was slain, See, how the morning opes her golden gates, Your princely father, and my loving lord. And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!

Edw. Oh, speak no more! for I have heard too How well resembles it the prime of youth,

much. Trimm'd like a yonker, prancing to his love! 360 Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all.

'ie. honour enough. * Meaning, the clouds as they are driven by the winds; from racke, Belg. a track.

i.e. illustrious and shining by the armorial ensigns granted us as inceds or rewards of our great exploits.



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Mes. Environed he was with many focs;


your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, And stood against them, as the hope of Troy Tidings, as swiftly as the post could run, Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd Troy Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; I then in London, keeper of the king, And many strokes, though with a little axe, 5 Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. And very well appointed, as I thought, Equeen, By many hands your father was subdu'd; March'd towards Saint Alban's to intercept the But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm

Bearing the king in iny behalf along: Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen; For by my scouts I was advertised, Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despight;/10 That she was coming with a full intent Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept, To dash our late decree in parliament,

The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks, Touching king Henry's oath, and your succession. A napkin, steep'd in the harmless blood

Short tale to make,-weat Saint Alban's met, Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford siain: Our battles join'd, and both sides tiercely fought: And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, 15 But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, They took his head, and on the gates of York Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, They set the same; and there it doth remain, That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen; The saddest spectacle that e'er 1 view'd. Or whether 'twas report her success;

Edw.Sweet duke of York,our prop to lean upon; Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stav!-20 Who thunders to his captives_blood and dcath, Oh Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth, The flower of Europe for his chivalry;

Their weapons like to lightning came and went; And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, Our soldiers'— like the night owl's lazy flight, For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish’dthee!-- Or like an idle thresher with a flail, Now my soul's palace is become a prison : 25 Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. Ab,would she break from hence! that this my body I cheer'd them up with justice of the cause, Might in the ground be closed up in rest: With promise of high pay, and great rewards: For never henceforth shall I joy again,

But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, Never, O never, shall I see more joy.

And we, in them, no hope to win the day, Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture 30 So that we fled; the king, unto the queen; Scarceserves to quench myfurnace-burning heart: Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, , Norcan my tongueupload myheart'sgreatburden; In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; For self-saine wind, that I should speak withal, For in the marches here, we heard, you were, Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, [quench. Making another head to tight again. [wick? And burn me up with flames, that tears would 33 Edir. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle WarTo weep, is to make less the depth of grief: And when came George from Burgundy to EngTears, then, for babes; blows and revenge, for


[power; me!

War. Some six miles off the duke is with his Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, And for your brother,--hc was lately sent Or die renowned by attempting it. [thee; 40 from your kind aunt, dutchess of Burgundy,

Edw. His name that yaliant duke hath left with With aid of soldiers to this needful war. (iled: His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

Rich.'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, Shew thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun: But pe'er, till now, his scandal of retire. (bear; For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; 45 War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine Alarch. Enter Warwick, Marquis of Alontague, Can pluck the diadem from taint Henry's head, and their armiy:

And wring the awful sceptre from bis fist, War. How now, fair lords ? What fare? what Were he as famous and as bold in war, news abroad?

[count 50 As he is fain'd for mildness, peace, and prayer. Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should re- Rich. I know it well, lord Warwick : blame Our banefulnews, and, at each word's deliverance,

me not : Stab poniards in our tiesh, 'till all were told, 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak. Thewordswouldadd moreanguishthanthewounds. But, in this troublous time, what's to be done? O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. 55 Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,

Edw. Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, Numb’ring our Ave-Maries with our beads ? Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death?. Or shall we on the helmets of our foes

War. Ten days ago I drown’d these news in tears: Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? And now, to add niore measure to your woes, 60 If for the last, say~Ay, and to it, lords. [you out; I come to tell you things since then befall’n. War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, And therefore comes my brother Montague. Done to death for killed, was a common expression long before Shakspeare's time.



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