And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice York. Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute; I mean to take possession of my right. War. Neither the king, nor he that loves him best, The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares:Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. [WARWICK leads YORK to the Throne, who seats himself. Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and others, with red Roses in their Hats. K. Hen. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, Even in the chair of state! belike, he means, (Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer,) To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king.Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father; And thine, lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge On him, his sons, his favorites, and his friends. North. It I be not, heaven be revenged on me! Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. West. What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down: My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it. K. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland. Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and such as he; He durst not sit there had your father liv'd. My gracious lord, here in the parliament Let us assail the family of York. North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin; be it so. K. Hen. Ah, know you not, the city favors them, And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? Exe. But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly. K. Hen. Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart To make a shambles of the parliament-house! Thou art deceiv'd, I am thine. Ere. For shame, come down; he made thee duke of York. York. 'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was. Exe. Thy father was a traitor to the crown. War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown, In following this usurping Henry. Clif. Whom should he follow, but his natural king? War. True, Clifford; and that's Richard, duke of York. K. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? York. It must and shall be so. Content thyself. War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. West. He is both king and duke of Lancaster; And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget, That we are those, which chas'd you from the field, And slew your fathers, and with colors spread March'd through the city to the palace gates. North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. West. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I'll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. Clif. Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger, As shall revenge his death, before I stir. War. Poor Clitlord! how I scorn his worthless threats! York. Will you, we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. K. Ilen. What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York; 1 Hawks had sometimes little bells hung on them, perhaps to dare the birds; that is, to fright them from rising. York. 'Twas by rebellion against his king. K. Hen. I know not what to say; my title's weak. Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? York. What then? K. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful king: For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth; Whose heir my father was, and I am his. And made him to resign his crown perforce. York. He rose against him, being his sovereign, War. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd, Think you, 'twere prejudicial to his crown? Exe. No; for he could not so resign his crown, But that the next heir should succeed and reign. K. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter? Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? Exe. My conscience tells me, he is lawful king. K. Hen. All will revolt from me, and turn to him. North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, Think not, that Henry shall be so depos'd. War. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all. North. Thou art deceiv'd: 'tis not thy southern power, of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,— Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,--Can set the duke up in despite of me. Clif. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence: May that ground gape, and swallow me alive, Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father! K. Hen. O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown:What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? War. Do right unto this princely duke of York: Or I will fill the house with armed men, And o'er the chair of state where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood. [He stamps, and the Soldiers show themselves. K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, hear me but one word; Let me, for this my life-time, reign as king. heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st. Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince your son? War. What good is this to England and himself? son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. The crown to thee, and to thine heirs for ever; form. K. Hen. And long live thou, and these thy forward sous! York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. Exe. Accurs'd be he, that seeks to make them foes! [The Lords come forward. York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle. War. And I'll keep London, with my soldiers. K. Hen. And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, and the PRINCE OF WALES. Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger: I'll steal away. K. Hen. Exeter, so will I. [Going. Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee. Rather than made that savage duke thine heir, Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me: K. Hen. Pardon me, Margaret;-pardon me, sweet son; The earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me. Q. Mar. Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced? I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honor: The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colors. away; Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already; get thee gone. K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. Prince. When I return with victory from the field, I'll see your grace: till then, I'll follow her. Q. Mar. Come, son, away; we may not linger thus. [Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET and the PRINCE. K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me, and to her son, Hath made her break out into terms of rage! [Exeunt. SCENE II-A Room in Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE. Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. Edw. No, I can better play the orator. York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a strife! What is your quarrel? how began it first?. Rich. About that which concerns your grace, York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate, That hath authority over him that swears: Henry had none, but did usurp the place; Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think, How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; Within whose circuit is Elysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest, Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk, And tell him privily of our intent.— 2 Peck. You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, But, atay; What news? Why com'st thou in such post! Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls and lords, Intend here to besiege you in your castle : York. Ay, with my sword. What, think'st thou, that we fear them! Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;- Mont. Brother, i go; I'll win them, fear it not: Is as a fury to torment my soul; [Lifting his Hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death:To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me! Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me? Clif. Thy father hath. Ah, let me live in prison all my days; Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, And thus most humbly do I take my leave. [Exit. Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. Enter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMER. York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles! You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; Sir John. She shall 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? [A March afar off. Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in order; And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands! Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes! Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers, Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man. [Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or is it fear, That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws: And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die;I am too mean a subject for thy wrath, Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again; He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me; No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves. And hung their rotten collins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of York Of sound judgment. SCENE IV.-The same. Alarum. Enter YORK. [Exit. York. The army of the queen hath got the field: And cried,-A crown, or else a glorious tomb! Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumberland,- North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. York. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all: And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? Clif.So cowards fight,when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. York. O Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And in thy thought o'er-run my former time: And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face; And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice, Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word; But buckle with thee blows twice two for one. [Draws Heaven grant that this may be your greatest boast! Ovid. Epist. i. e. We boggled, failed. Noontide point on the dial. Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes, I would prolong awhile the traitor's life:Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland. North. Hold, Clifford; do not honor him so much, To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: What valor were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is war's prize to take all vantages; And ten to one is no impeach of valoi. [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. [YORK is taken prisoner. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-matched. North. What would your grace have done unto him now? Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him stand upon this molehill here, I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York; [Putting a paper Crown on his Head. Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? Till our king Henry had shook hands with death. Off with the crown; and with the crown, his head; York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! Herefordshire. But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging, Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Or as the south to the septentrion.2 O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! will: For raging wind blows up incessant showers, woman. North. Beshrew me, but his passions3 move me so, But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,- He gives back the Handkerchief. And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, kin, I should not for my life but weep with him, Think but upon the wrong he did us all, death. king. [Stabbing it. York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. [Dies. Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. Exe zent. ACT II. SCENE I-A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in Drums. Enter EDWARD and RICHARD, with their Forces, marching. Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? sun; Not separated with the racking clouds,5 Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of. I think, it cites us, brother, to the field; Enter a Messenger. But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker on, When as the noble duke of York was slain, Your princely father, and my loving lord. To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; His dukedom and his chair with me is left. Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun: For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; Or that is thine, or else thou wert not his. March. Enter WARWICK and MONTAGUE, with Forces. War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what news abroad? Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears: And now, to add more measure to your woes, Bearing the king in my behalf along: For by my scouts I was advértised, Edw. O, speak no more! for I have heard too Touching king Henry's oath and your succession. much Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. Mess. Environed he was with many foes; And stood against them as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. By many hands your father was subdued; But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen: Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite; Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept, The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon; Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay!- Now my soul's palace is become a prison: Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest: Rich. I cannot weep: for all my body's moisture 4 Neat cattle, cows, oxen, &c. i. e. The clouds in rapid tumultuary motion. • Merit. 1 Hector. Short tale to make,-we at Saint Alban's met, Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigor, Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle And when came George from Burgundy to England? War. Some six miles off the duke is with the |