Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. [amain. Queen. Mount you, my Lord, towards Berwick post. Edward and Richard, like a brace of grey-hounds Having the fearful flying hare in fight, With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, 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 sweet Exeter ; Not that I fear to ftay, but love to go Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away! [Exeunt. A loud Alarum. Enter Clifford wounded. (12) Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, More than my body's parting with my foul. (12) Enter Clifford wounded.] In the 1ft quarto, there is this circumftance added; Enter Clifford wounded, with an arrow in his neck. The players, in their edition, had reason to make a retrenchment of this; for, no doubt, 'twas a point of ridicule to fee an actor come upon the ftage to die, with an arrow fixt in his neck. And this paff ge I find rallied by Beaumont and Fletcher in their Knight of the Burning Peftle. For Ralph, the grocer's prentice, is there introduc'd, with a forked arrow through bis head; and makes a long burlesque harangue in a bantering imitation of Clifford's fpeech here. Take a fhort fample of his laft dying words. Farewel, all you good boys in merry London, My pain increaseth:-I shall never more [Dies (13) The common people fwarm like fummer flies.] This line, which. is a neceffary introduction to that which follows, and which is left out in all the other impreffions, I have reftor'd from the old quarto. And whither fly the gnats, but to the fun? Giving no ground unto the houfe of York, {He faints. Alarum, and Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Montague, Clarence, and Soldiers. Edw. Now breathe we, Lords, good fortune bids us paufe; And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. But think you, Lords, that Clifford fled with them? [Clifford groans. Rich. Whofe foul is that, which takes her heavy leave? A deadly. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. Edw. And now the battle's ended, If friend or foe, let him be gently used. Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; From whence that tender fpray did fweetly spring; War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Measure for measure must be answered. Edw. Bring forth that fatal fcreech-owl to our house, That nothing fung but death to us and ours: Now death fhall ftop his difmal threatning found, And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. War. I think, his understanding is bereft: Speak, Clifford, doft thou know who speaks to thee? Dark cloudy death o'er-fhades his beams of life, And he nor fees, nor hears us what we say. Rich. O, would he did! and fo, perhaps, he doth. 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit ; Becaufe he would avoid fuch bitter taunts, Cla. If fo thou think'ft, vex him with eager words. This hand fhould chop it off; and with the iffuing blood York and young Rutland could not fatisfy. War. Ay, but he's dead. Off with the traitor's head, And now to London with triumphant march, So fhalt thou finew both thefe lands together. And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, T'effect this marriage, so it please my Lord. Edw. Ev'n as thou wilt, fweet Warwick, let it be For on thy fhoulder do I build my feat: And never will I undertake the thing, Wherein thy counfel, and confent, is wanting.. Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George of Glo'fter For Glofter's dukedom is too ominous. (14) (14) For Glo'fter's dukedom is too ominous.] This paffage feems fneer'd at by B. Jobnfon in his Devil's an Afs: where a foolish fellow is duped into the opinion of being created a Duke. Meer-cr. I think, we ha' found a place to fit you now, Sir: Glou cefter. Fitz-dot. O, no; I'll none. Meer-cr. Why, Sir? Fitz-dat. 'Tis fatal. Meer-cr. That you fay right in. Spencer, I think, the younger, had his laft honour thence. But he was but an Earl. Fitz-dot. I know not that, Sir: But Thomas of Woodstock, I'm fure, was Duke; and he was made away at Calice, as Duke Humphry was at Bury: And Richbard the Third, you know what end he came to. Meer-cr. By my faith, you're cunning in the chronicle, Sir. Fix-dot. No, I confess, I ha't from the play-books; and think, they're more authentick. War War. Tut, that's a foolish observation : Richard, be Duke of Glo'fter: now to London, [Exeunt ACT III. SCENE, a Wood in Lancashire. Enter Sinklo and Humphry, with cross-bows in their UNd hands. SINKLO. Nder this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves, And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. Hum. I'll ftay above the hill, fo both may shoot. In this felf-place where now we mean to ftand. K. Henry. From Scotland am I ftol'n even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wifhful fight: No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine, Thy place is fill'd, thy fcepter wrung from thee, Sink. Ay, here's a deer, whose skin's a keeper's fee: This is the quondam King, let's feize upon him. K. Henry |