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3 KING HENRY VI


DRAMATIS PERSONAE

KING HENRY      the Sixth.

KING LEWIS XI   King of France. (KING LEWIS XI:)

DUKE OF SOMERSET        (SOMERSET:)

PLANTAGENET     Duke of York. (YORK:)

EDWARD

(EDWARD:) Earl of March, |
afterwards King Edward IV. | (KING EDWARD IV:) |

                        |
EDMUND  Earl of Rutland, (RUTLAND:)     |
                        |  his sons.
GEORGE  (GEORGE:)  afterwards Duke of   |
        Clarence  (CLARENCE:)   |
                        |
RICHARD (RICHARD:) afterwards Duke of   |
        Gloucester, (GLOUCESTER:)       |

MARQUESS OF
MONTAGUE        (MONTAGUE:)

EARL OF WARWICK (WARWICK:)

EARL OF PEMBROKE        (PEMBROKE:)

LORD STAFFORD   (STAFFORD:)

SIR JOHN MORTIMER       (JOHN MORTIMER:)        |
                |  uncles to the Duke of York.
SIR HUGH MORTIMER       (HUGH MORTIMER:)        |

Tutor to Rutland. (Tutor:)
Mayor of York. (Mayor:)
Lieutenant of the Tower. (Lieutenant:)
A Nobleman. (Nobleman:)
Two Keepers.
(First Keeper:)
(Second Keeper:)
A Huntsman. (Huntsman:)
A Son that has killed his father. (Son:)
A Father that has killed his son. (Father:)

LADY GREY       afterwards Queen to Edward IV. (QUEEN ELIZABETH:)

BONA

sister to the French Queen.

Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Watchmen, &c. (Soldier:)
(Post:)
(Messenger:)
(First Messenger:)
(Second Messenger:)
(First Watchman:)
(Second Watchman:)
(Third Watchman:)

[Alarum. Enter YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers]

YORK

While we pursued the horsemen of the north, He slily stole away and left his men: Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself, Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast, Charged our main battle's front, and breaking in Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.

EDWARD

Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham, Is either slain or wounded dangerously; I cleft his beaver with a downright blow: That this is true, father, behold his blood.

MONTAGUE        And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood,
        Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.

[Throwing down SOMERSET's head]

YORK

Richard hath best deserved of all my sons. But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?

WARWICK

And so do I. Victorious Prince of York,
Before I see thee seated in that throne Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. This is the palace of the fearful king, And this the regal seat: possess it, York; For this is thine and not King Henry's heirs'

YORK

Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will; For hither we have broken in by force.

YORK

Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, my lords; And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night.

[They go up]

WARWICK

And when the king comes, offer no violence, Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.

YORK

The queen this day here holds her parliament, But little thinks we shall be of her council: By words or blows here let us win our right.

WARWICK

The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king, And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

YORK

Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute;
I mean to take possession of my right.

WARWICK

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.

[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, CLIFFORD,
NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and the rest]

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 favourites and his friends.

CLIFFORD        The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.

My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it.

KING HENRY VI   Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland.

CLIFFORD        Patience is for poltroons, such as he:
        He durst not sit there, had your father lived.
        My gracious lord, here in the parliament
        Let us assail the family of York.

And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?

To make a shambles of the parliament-house! Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats Shall be the war that Henry means to use.
Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne, and kneel for grace and mercy at my feet;
I am thy sovereign.

YORK

I am thine.

YORK

'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was.

WARWICK

Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown
In following this usurping Henry.

CLIFFORD        Whom should he follow but his natural king?

YORK

It must and shall be so: content thyself.

And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.

WARWICK

And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget
That we are those which chased you from the field And slew your fathers, and with colours spread March'd through the city to the palace gates.

And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.

Thy kinsman and thy friends, I'll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.

CLIFFORD        Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words,
        I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger
        As shall revenge his death before I stir.

YORK

Will you we show our title to the crown?
If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.

Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March: I am the son of Henry the Fifth,
Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop And seized upon their towns and provinces.

When I was crown'd I was but nine months old.

RICHARD

You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose. Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head.

MONTAGUE        Good brother, as thou lovest and honourest arms,
        Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus.

YORK

Sons, peace!

WARWICK

Plantagenet shall speak first: hear him, lords; And be you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him shall not live.

Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?
No: first shall war unpeople this my realm; Ay, and their colours, often borne in France, And now in England to our heart's great sorrow, Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords? My title's good, and better far than his.

YORK

'Twas by rebellion against his king.

Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?

YORK

What then?

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.

YORK

He rose against him, being his sovereign,
And made him to resign his crown perforce.

WARWICK

Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd, Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown?

EXETER

No; for he could not so resign his crown
But that the next heir should succeed and reign.

YORK

Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?

Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.

Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, Can set the duke up in despite of me.

CLIFFORD        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!

YORK

Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?

WARWICK

Do right unto this princely Duke of York,
Or I will fill the house with armed men, And over the chair of state, where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood.

[He stamps with his foot and the soldiers show themselves]

Let me for this my life-time reign as king.

YORK

Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest.

Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.

CLIFFORD        What wrong is this unto the prince your son!

WESTMORELAND    Base, fearful and despairing Henry!

CLIFFORD        How hast thou injured both thyself and us!

CLIFFORD        Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these news.

In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.

And die in bands for this unmanly deed!

CLIFFORD        In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,
        Or live in peace abandon'd and despised!

[Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD, and WESTMORELAND]

KING HENRY VI   Ah, Exeter!

WARWICK           Why should you sigh, my lord?

Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
But be it as it may: I here entail
The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; Conditionally, that here thou take an oath To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, To honour me as thy king and sovereign,
And neither by treason nor hostility
To seek to put me down and reign thyself.

YORK

This oath I willingly take and will perform.

YORK

Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.

[Sennet. Here they come down]

YORK

Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle.

MONTAGUE        And I unto the sea from whence I came.

[Exeunt YORK, EDWARD, EDMUND, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, their Soldiers, and Attendants]

[Enter QUEEN MARGARET and PRINCE EDWARD]

EXETER

Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger: I'll steal away.

KING HENRY VI                     Exeter, so will I.

Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid
And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I did for him once, Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood,
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there, Rather than have that savage duke thine heir And disinherited thine only son.

If you be king, why should not I succeed?

The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me.

I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me;
And given unto the house of York such head As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, What is it, but to make thy sepulchre
And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The duke is made protector of the realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds The trembling lamb environed with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of parliament be repeal'd
Whereby my son is disinherited.
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours Will follow mine, if once they see them spread; And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away; Our army is ready; come, we'll after them.

I'll see your grace: till then I'll follow her.

[Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET and PRINCE EDWARD]

Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Revenged may she be on that hateful duke,
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle Tire on the flesh of me and of my son!
The loss of those three lords torments my heart: I'll write unto them and entreat them fair. Come, cousin you shall be the messenger.

[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE II        Sandal Castle.

[Enter RICHARD, EDWARD, and MONTAGUE]

MONTAGUE        But I have reasons strong and forcible.

[Enter YORK]

YORK

Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife? What is your quarrel? how began it first?

YORK

About what?

RICHARD

About that which concerns your grace and us; The crown of England, father, which is yours.

YORK

Mine boy? not till King Henry be dead.

EDWARD

Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now:
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end.

YORK

I took an oath that he should quietly reign.

EDWARD

But for a kingdom any oath may be broken:
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.

YORK

I shall be, if I claim by open war.

YORK

Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.

RICHARD

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 finger 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 to the Duke of Norfolk, And tell him privily of our intent. You Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: In them I trust; for they are soldiers, Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, But that I seek occasion how to rise, And yet the king not privy to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster?

[Enter a Messenger]
But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post?

Messenger       The queen with all the northern earls and lords
        Intend here to besiege you in your castle:
        She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
        And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.

YORK

Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou that we fear them? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; My brother Montague shall post to London: Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left protectors of the king, With powerful policy strengthen themselves, And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.

MONTAGUE        Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not:
        And thus most humbly I do take my leave.

[Exit]
[Enter JOHN MORTIMER and HUGH MORTIMER]
Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles, You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.

YORK

What, with five thousand men?

RICHARD

Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need: A woman's general; what should we fear?

[A march afar off]

EDWARD

I hear their drums: let's set our men in order, And issue forth and bid them battle straight.

YORK

Five men to twenty! though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France, When as the enemy hath been ten to one: Why should I not now have the like success?

[Alarum. Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE III       Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield.

[Alarums. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor]

RUTLAND

Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands? Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes!

[Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers]

CLIFFORD        Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
        As for the brat of this accursed duke,
        Whose father slew my father, he shall die.

Tutor   And I, my lord, will bear him company.

CLIFFORD        Soldiers, away with him!

Tutor

Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man!

[Exit, dragged off by Soldiers]

CLIFFORD        How now! is he dead already? or is it fear
        That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them.

RUTLAND

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 threatening 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.

CLIFFORD        In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood
        Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.

RUTLAND

Then let my father's blood open it again:
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

CLIFFORD        Had 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 coffins up in chains,
        It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.

The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul;
And till I root out their accursed line
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore--
[Lifting his hand]

RUTLAND

O, let me pray before I take my death!
To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!

CLIFFORD        Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

RUTLAND I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me?

CLIFFORD        Thy father hath.

RUTLAND                   But 'twas ere I was born.
        Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me,
        Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
        He be as miserably slain as I.
        Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
        And when I give occasion of offence,
        Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.

CLIFFORD        No cause!
        Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.

[Stabs him]

[Dies]

CLIFFORD        Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet!
        And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade
        Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
        Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.

[Exit]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE IV        Another part of the field.

[Alarum. Enter YORK]

YORK

The army of the queen hath got the field:
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them: But this I know, they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown by life or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me. And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out!' And full as oft came Edward to my side, With purple falchion, painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encounter'd him: And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried 'Charge! and give no foot of ground!' And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb! A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!' With this, we charged again: but, out, alas! We bodged again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide And spend her strength with over-matching waves.

[A short alarum within]
Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue;
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury:
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury: The sands are number'd that make up my life; Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
[Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, PRINCE EDWARD, and Soldiers]
Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

CLIFFORD        Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm,
        With downright payment, show'd unto my father.
        Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car,
        And made an evening at the noontide prick.

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?

CLIFFORD        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 though 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!

CLIFFORD        I will not bandy with thee word for word,
        But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.

I would prolong awhile the traitor's life. Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland.

To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: What valour 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 valour.
[They lay hands on YORK, who struggles]

CLIFFORD        Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.

YORK

So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd.

Come, make him stand upon this molehill here, That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
What! was it you that would be England's king? Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, And made a preachment of your high descent? Where are your mess of sons to back you now? The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. Alas poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad; And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport: York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him: Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.
[Putting a paper crown on his head]
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!
Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, And this is he was his adopted heir.
But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? As I bethink me, you should not be king
Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, And rob his temples of the diadem,
Now in his life, against your holy oath?
O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable!
Off with the crown, and with the crown his head; And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.

CLIFFORD        That is my office, for my father's sake.

YORK

She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, Upon their woes whom fortune captivates! But that thy face is, vizard-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou camest, of whom derived, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem, Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen, Unless the adage must be verified, That beggars mounted run their horse to death. 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small: 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired; The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: 'Tis government that makes them seem divine; The want thereof makes thee abominable: Thou art as opposite to every good As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion. O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide! How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible; Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Bids't thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays, the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies: And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.

That hardly can I cheque my eyes from tears.

YORK

That face of his the hungry cannibals
Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: This cloth thou dip'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, And say 'Alas, it was a piteous deed!' There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse; And in thy need such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world: My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads!

I should not for my life but weep with him. To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.

Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.

CLIFFORD        Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death.

[Stabbing him]

[Stabbing him]

YORK

Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God!
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee.

[Dies]

So York may overlook the town of York.
[Flourish. Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

[A march. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and their power]

EDWARD

I wonder how our princely father 'scaped,
Or whether he be 'scaped away or no From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit: Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; Or had he 'scaped, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape. How fares my brother? why is he so sad?

RICHARD

I cannot joy, until I be resolved
Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about; And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought he bore him in the thickest troop As doth a lion in a herd of neat; Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. So fared our father with his enemies; So fled his enemies my warlike father: Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. See how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love!

RICHARD

Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun; Not separated with the racking clouds, But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vow'd some league inviolable: Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. In this the heaven figures some event.

EDWARD

'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of. I think it cites us, brother, to the field, That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, Each one already blazing by our meeds, Should notwithstanding join our lights together And over-shine the earth as this the world. Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Upon my target three fair-shining suns.

RICHARD

Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it, You love the breeder better than the male.

[Enter a Messenger]
But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?

Messenger       Ah, one that was a woful looker-on
        When as the noble Duke of York was slain,
        Your princely father and my loving lord!

Messenger       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.

EDWARD

Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. O Clifford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain The flower of Europe for his chivalry; And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee. 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! For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, O never shall I see more joy!

Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen; For selfsame wind that I should speak withal Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. To weep is to make less the depth of grief: Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it.

EDWARD

His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

RICHARD

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; Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.

[March. Enter WARWICK, MONTAGUE, and their army]

RICHARD

Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain!

EDWARD

O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet,
Which held three dearly as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.

WARWICK

Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; And now, to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depart. I, then in London keeper of the king, Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, And very well appointed, as I thought, March'd toward Saint Alban's to intercept the queen, Bearing the king in my behalf along; For by my scouts I was advertised That she was coming with a full intent To dash our late decree in parliament Touching King Henry's oath and your succession. Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban's met Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought: But whether 'twas the coldness of the king, Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen; Or whether 'twas report of her success; Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Who thunders to his captives blood and death, I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth, Their weapons like to lightning came and went; Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight, Or like an idle thresher with a flail, Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, With promise of high pay and great rewards: But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, And we in them no hope to win the day; So that we fled; the king unto the queen; Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself, In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you: For in the marches here we heard you were, Making another head to fight again.

EDWARD

Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England?

WARWICK

Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers; And for your brother, he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war.

RICHARD

'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled: Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne'er till now his scandal of retire.

WARWICK

Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.

RICHARD

I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not: 'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. But in this troublous time what's to be done? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords.

WARWICK

Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. He swore consent to your succession, His oath enrolled in the parliament; And now to London all the crew are gone, To frustrate both his oath and what beside May make against the house of Lancaster. Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself, With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, Why, Via! to London will we march amain, And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!' But never once again turn back and fly.

RICHARD

Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak: Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, That cries 'Retire,' if Warwick bid him stay.

EDWARD

Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; And when thou fail'st--as God forbid the hour!-- Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend!

WARWICK

No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York: The next degree is England's royal throne; For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd In every borough as we pass along; And he that throws not up his cap for joy Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets, and about our task.

RICHARD

Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.

[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger       The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me,
        The queen is coming with a puissant host;
        And craves your company for speedy counsel.

[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE II        Before York.

[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with drum and trumpets]

Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy
That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?

To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.

CLIFFORD        My gracious liege, this too much lenity
        And harmful pity must be laid aside.
        To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
        Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
        Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?

Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Not he that sets his foot upon her back.
The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York doth level at thy crown,
Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows: He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue, like a loving sire;
Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
Which argued thee a most unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young;
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them, even with those wings Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Offer their own lives in their young's defence? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! Were it not pity that this goodly boy
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault, And long hereafter say unto his child,
'What my great-grandfather and his grandsire got My careless father fondly gave away'?
Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.

Inferring arguments of mighty force.
But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear That things ill-got had ever bad success?
And happy always was it for that son
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; And would my father had left me no more!
For all the rest is held at such a rate
As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep Than in possession and jot of pleasure.
Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promised knighthood to our forward son: Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down.

And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right.

PRINCE

My gracious father, by your kingly leave,
I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death.

CLIFFORD        Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.

[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger       Royal commanders, be in readiness:
        For with a band of thirty thousand men
        Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York;
        And in the towns, as they do march along,
        Proclaims him king, and many fly to him:
        Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.

CLIFFORD        I would your highness would depart the field:
        The queen hath best success when you are absent.

And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!'
[March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers]

EDWARD

Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head; Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?

EDWARD

I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent: Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, You, that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caused him, by new act of parliament, To blot out me, and put his own son in.

CLIFFORD        And reason too:
        Who should succeed the father but the son?

CLIFFORD        Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee,
        Or any he the proudest of thy sort.

CLIFFORD        Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.

When you and I met at Saint Alban's last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.

CLIFFORD        You said so much before, and yet you fled.

RICHARD

Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.
Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

CLIFFORD        I slew thy father, call'st thou him a child?

RICHARD

Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed.

I am a king, and privileged to speak.

CLIFFORD        My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here
        Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still.

RICHARD

Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword:
By him that made us all, I am resolved that Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

EDWARD

Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no?
A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.

WARWICK

If thou deny, their blood upon thy head;
For York in justice puts his armour on.

There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

RICHARD

Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.

But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic,
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.

RICHARD

Iron of Naples hid with English gilt,
Whose father bears the title of a king,-- As if a channel should be call'd the sea,-- Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?

EDWARD

A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, To make this shameless callet know herself. Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd By that false woman, as this king by thee. His father revell'd in the heart of France, And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop; And had he match'd according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day; But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day, Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; And we, in pity of the gentle king, Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

GEORGE

But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root; And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.

EDWARD

And, in this resolution, I defy thee;
Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave.

EDWARD

No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay: These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.

[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE III       A field of battle between Towton and Saxton, in
        Yorkshire.

[Alarum. Excursions. Enter WARWICK]

WARWICK

Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe; For strokes received, and many blows repaid, Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile.

[Enter EDWARD, running]

EDWARD

Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death! For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded.

[Enter GEORGE]

GEORGE

Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: What counsel give you? whither shall we fly?

EDWARD

Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.

[Enter RICHARD]

RICHARD

Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; And in the very pangs of death he cried, Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, 'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!' So, underneath the belly of their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

WARWICK

Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; And look upon, as if the tragedy Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? Here on my knee I vow to God above, I'll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

EDWARD

O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine;
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, Beseeching thee, if with they will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth.

RICHARD

Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: I, that did never weep, now melt with woe That winter should cut off our spring-time so.

GEORGE

Yet let us all together to our troops,
And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games: This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; For yet is hope of life and victory. Forslow no longer, make we hence amain.

[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE IV        Another part of the field.

[Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD]

RICHARD

Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone:
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.

CLIFFORD        Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone:
        This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York;
        And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland;
        And here's the heart that triumphs in their death
        And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother

To execute the like upon thyself;
And so, have at thee!
[They fight. WARWICK comes; CLIFFORD flies]

RICHARD

Nay Warwick, single out some other chase;
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.

[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

[Alarum. Enter KING HENRY VI alone]

When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea Forced to retire by fury of the wind:
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; Now one the better, then another best;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror nor conquered:
So is the equal of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory!
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; For what is in this world but grief and woe? O God! methinks it were a happy life,
To be no better than a homely swain;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
How many make the hour full complete;
How many hours bring about the day;
How many days will finish up the year;
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times:

        So many hours must I tend my flock;
        So many hours must I take my rest;
        So many hours must I contemplate;
        So many hours must I sport myself;
        So many days my ewes have been with young;
        So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean:

So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,
When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.
[Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father, dragging in the dead body]

Son

Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of crowns; And I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me. Who's this? O God! it is my father's face, Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. O heavy times, begetting such events! From London by the king was I press'd forth; My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; And I, who at his hands received my life, him 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 shall wipe away these bloody marks; And no more words till they have flow'd their fill.

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'ercharged with grief.
[Enter a Father that has killed his son, bringing in the body]

Father

Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me,
Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: For I have bought it with an hundred blows. But let me see: is this our foeman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise, Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, Upon thy words, that kill mine eye and heart! O, pity, God, this miserable age! What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural, This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!

O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses:
The one his purple blood right well resembles; The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth: Wither one rose, and let the other flourish; If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.

Son

How will my mother for a father's death
Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied!

Father

How will my wife for slaughter of my son
Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied!

Misthink the king and not be satisfied!

Son

Was ever son so rued a father's death?

Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much.

Son

I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.

[Exit with the body]

Father

These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go; My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; And so obsequious will thy father be, Even for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, For I have murdered where I should not kill.

[Exit with the body]

Here sits a king more woful than you are.
[Alarums: excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, and EXETER]

And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:
Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.

Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.

EXETER

Away! for vengeance comes along with them: Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; Or else come after: I'll away before.

Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
Whither the queen intends. Forward; away!
[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE VI        Another part of the field.

[A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded]

CLIFFORD        Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies,
        Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light.
        O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow
        More than my body's parting with my soul!
        My love and fear glued many friends to thee;

And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts. Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, The common people swarm like summer flies; And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies?
O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent
That Phaethon should cheque thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth! And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, Or as thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies; I and ten thousand in this luckless realm
Had left no mourning widows for our death; And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: The foe is merciless, and will not pity;
For at their hands I have deserved no pity. The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest; I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.
[He faints]
[Alarum and retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers]

EDWARD

Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause, And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen, That led calm Henry, though he were a king, As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?

WARWICK

No, 'tis impossible he should escape,
For, though before his face I speak the words Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.

[CLIFFORD groans, and dies]

EDWARD

See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend or foe, let him be gently used.

RICHARD

Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murdering knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, I mean our princely father, Duke of York.

WARWICK

From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father's head, which Clifford placed there; Instead whereof let this supply the room: Measure for measure must be answered.

EDWARD

Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours: Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

WARWICK

I think his understanding is bereft.
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee? Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.

RICHARD

O, would he did! and so perhaps he doth:
'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts Which in the time of death he gave our father.

RICHARD

What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. I know by that he's dead; and, by my soul, If this right hand would buy two hour's life, That I in all despite might rail at him, This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

WARWICK

Ay, but he's dead: off with the traitor's head, And rear it in the place your father's stands. And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned England's royal king: From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen: So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again; For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears. First will I see the coronation; And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea, To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.

EDWARD

Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; For in thy shoulder do I build my seat, And never will I undertake the thing Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester, And George, of Clarence: Warwick, as ourself, Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.

RICHARD

Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester; For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous.

WARWICK

Tut, that's a foolish observation:
Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London, To see these honours in possession.

[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

[Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands]

For through this laund anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer.

Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: And, for the time shall not seem tedious,
I'll tell thee what befell me on a day
In this self-place where now we mean to stand.

[Enter KING HENRY VI, disguised, with a prayerbook]

To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine;
Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed: No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, No humble suitors press to speak for right, No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
For how can I help them, and not myself?

This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him.

For wise men say it is the wisest course.

And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward: if this news be true,
Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; For Warwick is a subtle orator,
And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. By this account then Margaret may win him; For she's a woman to be pitied much:
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn; And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears. Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give; She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry, He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says her Henry is deposed;
He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
And in conclusion wins the king from her,
With promise of his sister, and what else, To strengthen and support King Edward's place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn!

A man at least, for less I should not be;
And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is called content: A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

Your crown content and you must be contented To go along with us; for as we think,
You are the king King Edward hath deposed; And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance Will apprehend you as his enemy.

My father and my grandfather were kings,
And you were sworn true subjects unto me:
And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths?

For we were subjects but while you were king.

Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust;
Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oaths; for of that sin My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; And be you kings, command, and I'll obey.

If he were seated as King Edward is.

To go with us unto the officers.

And what God will, that let your king perform; And what he will, I humbly yield unto.
[Exeunt]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE II        London. The palace.

[Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and LADY GREY]

This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain, His lands then seized on by the conqueror: Her suit is now to repossess those lands;
Which we in justice cannot well deny,
Because in quarrel of the house of York
The worthy gentleman did lose his life.

GLOUCESTER      Your highness shall do well to grant her suit;
        It were dishonour to deny it her.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  Yea, is it so?
        I see the lady hath a thing to grant,
        Before the king will grant her humble suit.

CLARENCE        [Aside to GLOUCESTER]  He knows the game: how true
        he keeps the wind!

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  Silence!

And come some other time to know our mind.

LADY GREY       Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay:
        May it please your highness to resolve me now;
        And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  Ay, widow? then I'll warrant
        you all your lands,
        An if what pleases him shall pleasure you.
        Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow.

CLARENCE        [Aside to GLOUCESTER]  I fear her not, unless she
        chance to fall.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE] God forbid that! for he'll
        take vantages.

CLARENCE        [Aside to GLOUCESTER]  I think he means to beg a
        child of her.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  Nay, whip me then: he'll rather
        give her two.

LADY GREY       Three, my most gracious lord.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  You shall have four, if you'll
        be ruled by him.

LADY GREY       Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.

KING EDWARD IV  Lords, give us leave: I'll try this widow's wit.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  Ay, good leave have you; for
        you will have leave,
        Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch.

[GLOUCESTER and CLARENCE retire]

LADY GREY       Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.

KING EDWARD IV  And would you not do much to do them good?

LADY GREY       To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

KING EDWARD IV  Then get your husband's lands, to do them good.

LADY GREY       Therefore I came unto your majesty.

KING EDWARD IV  I'll tell you how these lands are to be got.

LADY GREY       So shall you bind me to your highness' service.

KING EDWARD IV  What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?

LADY GREY       What you command, that rests in me to do.

KING EDWARD IV  But you will take exceptions to my boon.

LADY GREY       No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.

KING EDWARD IV  Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.

LADY GREY       Why, then I will do what your grace commands.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  He plies her hard; and much rain
        wears the marble.

CLARENCE        [Aside to GLOUCESTER]  As red as fire! nay, then
        her wax must melt.

LADY GREY       Why stops my lord, shall I not hear my task?

KING EDWARD IV  An easy task; 'tis but to love a king.

LADY GREY       That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.

KING EDWARD IV  Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.

LADY GREY       I take my leave with many thousand thanks.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  The match is made; she seals it
        with a curtsy.

LADY GREY       The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.

What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?

LADY GREY       My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
        That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.

LADY GREY       Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.

KING EDWARD IV  But now you partly may perceive my mind.

LADY GREY       My mind will never grant what I perceive
        Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

LADY GREY       To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.

KING EDWARD IV  Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.

LADY GREY       Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower;
        For by that loss I will not purchase them.

LADY GREY       Herein your highness wrongs both them and me.
        But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
        Accords not with the sadness of my suit:
        Please you dismiss me either with 'ay' or 'no.'

No if thou dost say 'no' to my demand.

LADY GREY       Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  The widow likes him not, she
        knits her brows.

CLARENCE        [Aside to GLOUCESTER]  He is the bluntest wooer in
        Christendom.

Her words do show her wit incomparable;
All her perfections challenge sovereignty: One way or other, she is for a king;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.-- Say that King Edward take thee for his queen?

LADY GREY       'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord:
        I am a subject fit to jest withal,
        But far unfit to be a sovereign.

I speak no more than what my soul intends; And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

LADY GREY       And that is more than I will yield unto:
        I know I am too mean to be your queen,
        And yet too good to be your concubine.

LADY GREY       'Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father.

Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children; And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing
To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside to CLARENCE]  The ghostly father now hath done
        his shrift.

CLARENCE        [Aside to GLOUCESTER]  When he was made a shriver,
        'twas for shift.

GLOUCESTER      The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.

KING EDWARD IV  You'll think it strange if I should marry her.

CLARENCE        To whom, my lord?

KING EDWARD IV                    Why, Clarence, to myself.

GLOUCESTER      That would be ten days' wonder at the least.

CLARENCE        That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.

GLOUCESTER      By so much is the wonder in extremes.

Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.
[Enter a Nobleman]

Nobleman        My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken,
        And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.

And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To question of his apprehension.
Widow, go you along. Lords, use her honourably.
[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER      Ay, Edward will use women honourably.
        Would he were wasted, marrow, bones and all,
        That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
        To cross me from the golden time I look for!
        And yet, between my soul's desire and me--

The lustful Edward's title buried--
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: A cold premeditation for my purpose!
Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty;
Like one that stands upon a promontory,
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way: So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
And so I chide the means that keeps me from it; And so I say, I'll cut the causes off,
Flattering me with impossibilities.
My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, Unless my hand and strength could equal them. Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; What other pleasure can the world afford?
I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,
And deck my body in gay ornaments,
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. O miserable thought! and more unlikely
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe, To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; To make an envious mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
To shape my legs of an unequal size;
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be beloved?
O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, But to command, to cheque, to o'erbear such As are of better person than myself,
I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell, Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home:
And I,--like one lost in a thorny wood,
That rends the thorns and is rent with the thorns, Seeking a way and straying from the way;
Not knowing how to find the open air,
But toiling desperately to find it out,--
Torment myself to catch the English crown: And from that torment I will free myself,
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.
Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, And cry 'Content' to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame my face to all occasions.
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
I can add colours to the chameleon,
Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.
[Exit]
3 KING HENRY VI

SCENE III       France. KING LEWIS XI's palace.

[Flourish. Enter KING LEWIS XI, his sister BONA, his Admiral, called BOURBON, PRINCE EDWARD, QUEEN MARGARET, and OXFORD. KING LEWIS XI sits, and riseth up again]

Sit down with us: it ill befits thy state
And birth, that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit.

Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve Where kings command. I was, I must confess, Great Albion's queen in former golden days: But now mischance hath trod my title down, And with dishonour laid me on the ground;
Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, And to my humble seat conform myself.

And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares.

And sit thee by our side:
[Seats her by him]
Yield not thy neck
To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance.
Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; It shall be eased, if France can yield relief.

And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
Is of a king become a banish'd man,
And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn;
While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York
Usurps the regal title and the seat
Of England's true-anointed lawful king.
This is the cause that I, poor Margaret,
With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid;
And if thou fail us, all our hope is done: Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; Our people and our peers are both misled,
Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.

While we bethink a means to break it off.

And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow!
[Enter WARWICK]

[He descends. She ariseth]

For this is he that moves both wind and tide.

WARWICK

From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, First, to do greetings to thy royal person; And then to crave a league of amity; And lastly, to confirm that amity With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, To England's king in lawful marriage.

WARWICK

[To BONA] And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf, I am commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, Hath placed thy beauty's image and thy virtue.

Before you answer Warwick. His demand
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, But from deceit bred by necessity;
For how can tyrants safely govern home,
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice, That Henry liveth still: but were he dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son. Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour; For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.

WARWICK

Because thy father Henry did usurp;
And thou no more are prince than she is queen.

OXFORD

Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France: From these our Henry lineally descends.

WARWICK

Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse, You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost All that which Henry Fifth had gotten? Methinks these peers of France should smile at that. But for the rest, you tell a pedigree Of threescore and two years; a silly time To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.

OXFORD

Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years, And not bewray thy treason with a blush?

WARWICK

Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame! leave Henry, and call Edward king.

OXFORD

Call him my king by whose injurious doom
My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, Was done to death? and more than so, my father, Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, When nature brought him to the door of death? No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.

Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside, While I use further conference with Warwick.
[They stand aloof]

Is Edward your true king? for I were loath To link with him that were not lawful chosen.

Tell me for truth the measure of his love
Unto our sister Bona.

WARWICK

Such it seems
As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say and swear That this his love was an eternal plant, Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun, Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.

BONA

Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine:

[To WARWICK]
Yet I confess that often ere this day,
When I have heard your king's desert recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire.

And now forthwith shall articles be drawn
Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised. Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness That Bona shall be wife to the English king.

By this alliance to make void my suit:
Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend.

But if your title to the crown be weak,
As may appear by Edward's good success,
Then 'tis but reason that I be released
From giving aid which late I promised.
Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand That your estate requires and mine can yield.

WARWICK

Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease,
Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain you; And better 'twere you troubled him than France.

Proud setter up and puller down of kings!
I will not hence, till, with my talk and tears, Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love; For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
[Post blows a horn within]

[Enter a Post]

Post

[To WARWICK] My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague:

[To KING LEWIS XI]
These from our king unto your majesty:
[To QUEEN MARGARET]
And, madam, these for you; from whom I know not.
[They all read their letters]

OXFORD

I like it well that our fair queen and mistress Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.

I hope all's for the best.

And now, to soothe your forgery and his,
Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
Is this the alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?

This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty.

WARWICK

King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven, And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's, No more my king, for he dishonours me, But most himself, if he could see his shame. Did I forget that by the house of York My father came untimely to his death? Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right? And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? Shame on himself! for my desert is honour: And to repair my honour lost for him, I here renounce him and return to Henry. My noble queen, let former grudges pass, And henceforth I am thy true servitor: I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona, And replant Henry in his former state.

And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becomest King Henry's friend.

WARWICK

So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I'll undertake to land them on our coast And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succor him: And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, He's very likely now to fall from him, For matching more for wanton lust than honour, Or than for strength and safety of our country.

BONA

Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged
But by thy help to this distressed queen?

Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?

BONA

My quarrel and this English queen's are one.

Therefore at last I firmly am resolved
You shall have aid.

And tell false Edward, thy supposed king,
That Lewis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride:
Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king withal.

BONA

Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.

And I am ready to put armour on.

WARWICK

Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long. There's thy reward: be gone.

[Exit Post]

Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men,
Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle; And, as occasion serves, this noble queen
And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt, What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty?

WARWICK

This shall assure my constant loyalty,
That if our queen and this young prince agree, I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.

Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous,
Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick; And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.

And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.
[He gives his hand to WARWICK]

And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral,
Shalt waft them over with our royal fleet. I long till Edward fall by war's mischance, For mocking marriage with a dame of France.
[Exeunt all but WARWICK]

WARWICK

I came from Edward as ambassador,
But I return his sworn and mortal foe: Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, But dreadful war shall answer his demand. Had he none else to make a stale but me? Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that raised him to the crown, And I'll be chief to bring him down again: Not that I pity Henry's misery, But seek revenge on Edward's mockery.

[Exit]
3 KING HENRY VI

[Enter GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, and MONTAGUE]

GLOUCESTER      Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you
        Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey?
        Hath not our brother made a worthy choice?

CLARENCE        Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to France;
        How could he stay till Warwick made return?

SOMERSET        My lords, forbear this talk; here comes the king.

GLOUCESTER      And his well-chosen bride.

CLARENCE        I mind to tell him plainly what I think.

[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, attended; QUEEN ELIZABETH, PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HASTINGS, and others]

That you stand pensive, as half malcontent?

CLARENCE        As well as Lewis of France, or the Earl of Warwick,
        Which are so weak of courage and in judgment
        That they'll take no offence at our abuse.

They are but Lewis and Warwick: I am Edward, Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will.

GLOUCESTER      And shall have your will, because our king:
        Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.

GLOUCESTER      Not I:
        No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd
        Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity
        To sunder them that yoke so well together.

Tell me some reason why the Lady Grey
Should not become my wife and England's queen. And you too, Somerset and Montague,
Speak freely what you think.

CLARENCE        Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis
        Becomes your enemy, for mocking him
        About the marriage of the Lady Bona.

GLOUCESTER      And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge,
        Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.

By such invention as I can devise?

MONTAGUE        Yet, to have join'd with France in such alliance
        Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth
        'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage.

HASTINGS        Why, knows not Montague that of itself
        England is safe, if true within itself?

MONTAGUE        But the safer when 'tis back'd with France.

HASTINGS        'Tis better using France than trusting France:
        Let us be back'd with God and with the seas
        Which He hath given for fence impregnable,
        And with their helps only defend ourselves;
        In them and in ourselves our safety lies.

CLARENCE        For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves
        To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.

And for this once my will shall stand for law.

GLOUCESTER      And yet methinks your grace hath not done well,
        To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
        Unto the brother of your loving bride;
        She better would have fitted me or Clarence:
        But in your bride you bury brotherhood.

CLARENCE        Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir
        Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son,
        And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.

That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.

CLARENCE        In choosing for yourself, you show'd your judgment,
        Which being shallow, you give me leave
        To play the broker in mine own behalf;
        And to that end I shortly mind to leave you.

And not be tied unto his brother's will.

To raise my state to title of a queen,
Do me but right, and you must all confess
That I was not ignoble of descent;
And meaner than myself have had like fortune. But as this title honours me and mine,
So your dislike, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.

What danger or what sorrow can befall thee, So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
And their true sovereign, whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, Unless they seek for hatred at my hands;
Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.

GLOUCESTER      [Aside]  I hear, yet say not much, but think the more.

[Enter a Post]

From France?

Post

My sovereign liege, no letters; and few words, But such as I, without your special pardon, Dare not relate.

Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters?

Post

At my depart, these were his very words:
'Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride.'

But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?

Post

These were her words, utter'd with mad disdain: 'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.'

She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? For I have heard that she was there in place.

Post

'Tell him,' quoth she, 'my mourning weeds are done, And I am ready to put armour on.'

But what said Warwick to these injuries?

Post

He, more incensed against your majesty
Than all the rest, discharged me with these words: 'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.'

Well I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd: They shall have wars and pay for their presumption. But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?

Post

Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in friendship That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter.

CLARENCE        Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger.
        Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast,
        For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter;
        That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage
        I may not prove inferior to yourself.

You that love me and Warwick, follow me.
[Exit CLARENCE, and SOMERSET follows]

GLOUCESTER      [Aside]  Not I:
        My thoughts aim at a further matter; I
        Stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.

Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; And haste is needful in this desperate case. Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf
Go levy men, and make prepare for war;
They are already, or quickly will be landed: Myself in person will straight follow you.
[Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFORD]
But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague,
Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance: Tell me if you love Warwick more than me?
If it be so, then both depart to him;
I rather wish you foes than hollow friends: But if you mind to hold your true obedience, Give me assurance with some friendly vow,
That I may never have you in suspect.

MONTAGUE        So God help Montague as he proves true!

HASTINGS        And Hasting