*To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? * When care, mistrust, and treason, wait 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 unawares 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 receiv'd my life, 'Have by my hands of life bereaved him.Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; * And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whilst 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'ercharg'd with grief. Enter a Father who has killed his son, with the body in his arms. 'Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, 'Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; For I have bought it with a 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 wounds, 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! * K. Hen. Wo above wo! grief more than mon grief! com O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! The red rose and the white are on his face, son, 'Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied? 'K. Hen. How will the country for these wo- 'Misthink the king, and not be satisfied? 'Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre : care, 'Here sits a king more woful than you are. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince of Wales, and Exeter. 'Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Ber- Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, them: Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; 'K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet 'Not that I fear to stay, but love to go SCENE VI.-The same. A loud alarum. En- 'Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, More than my body's parting with my soul. They never then had sprung like summer flies; (S) Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites. 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 deserv'd 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 father's bosom, split my breast. [He faints. Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edward, George, Richard, Montague, Warwick, and soldiers. Edw. 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! War. 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. Edwo. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. Edo. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd. 'Rich. 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 'I mean our princely father, duke of York. War. 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. Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, "That nothing sung but death to us and ours: Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, Rich. 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. Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager 3 Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now? Sour words: words of asperity. (S) Favour. VOL. II. And rear it in the place your father's stands.- So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again; And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of Gloster; For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. War. Tut, that's a foolish observation; Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London, To see these honours in possession. ACT III. [Exeunt. *1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy crossbow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. In this self-place where now we mean to stand. Enter Henry, disguised, with a prayer-book. K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight, 'No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France for aid; 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, while 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 depos'd; He smiles, and says-his Edward is install'd; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no 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 Margarel, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, * Art then forsaken, as thou went's forlorn. 2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings and queens? 'K. Hen. More than I secm, and less than I was born to: 'A man at least, for less I should not be ; And men may talk of kings, and why not I? 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. 'K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough. 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; *Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd, content; "A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. '2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, Your crown content, and you, must be contented 'To go along with us: for, as we think, You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd; And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, "Will apprehend you as his enemy. *K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an oath ? 2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not now. I 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, But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin *K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, *If he were seated as king Edward is. 1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in the king's, To go with us unto the officers. 'K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd: *And what God will, then let your king perform; And what he will, I humbly yield unto. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-London. A room in the palace. Enter King Edward, Gloster, Clarence, and Lady Grey. 'K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans field This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seiz'd 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. Glo. Your highness shall do well, to grant her suit; * It were dishonour, to deny it her. K. Edo. It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. 'Glo. Yea! is it so? see the lady hath a thing to grant, Before the king will grant her humble suit. [Aside. Aside. 'K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit; 'And come some other time, to know our mind. 'L. 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. 'Glo. [Aside.] 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. * Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall. [Aside. |