Imatges de pÓgina


Norf. And I to Norfolk with my Followers.
Mount. And I unto ih: Sca from whence I came. [Exc.
K.Henry. And I with grief and forrow to the Court.

Enter the Queen, and the Prince of Wales.
Exe. Here com.stue Q:een,
Wh le looks bewray her anger:
I'll ftcal away.
K. Henry. Exeter so will I:

Queen. Nay, go not from me I will follow
K. Henry. Be pacient, entle Q.jeen, and I will stay.

Queen. Who can be patient in fach extreams?
Ah wretched Man! would I had dy'd a Maid,
And never seen thee, never born thee Son,
Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a Father.
Hath he dele v'd to lose his Birth-right thus?
Hadft thou but loy'd him half so much as I,
Or felt that pain which I did for him once,
Or nourisht him, as I did with my Blood;
Thou wouldst have left thy dearelt Heart.blood there,
Rather than made that Savage Duke thine Heir,
And disinherited thire only Son.

Prince. Father, you cannot difinherit me:

be King, why should not I succeed?
K. Henry. Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet Son;
The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforc'd me.

Queen. Enforc'd thee? art thou King, and wilt be forc'd?
I thame to hear thee speak; ah timorous Wretch!
Thou hast undore thy self, 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 Faulconbridge commands the narrow Seas,
The Duke is made Protector of the Realm,
And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds
The trembling Lamb, invironed with Wolves.
Had I been there, which am a filly Woman,
The Soldiers should have tofs'd me on their Pikes,
Before I would have gracted to that A&.


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But thou preferr'st thy Life before thine honour.
And seeing thou doft, I here divorce my self,
Both from thy Table, Henry, and thy Bed,
Until that AĞ of Parliament be repealed,
Whercby 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.

K. Henry. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.

Queen. Thou hast spoke too much already; get thee gone.

K.Henry. Gentle Son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
Queen. Ay, to be murther'd by his Enemies.

Prince. When I return with Vi&tory from the Field,
I'll see your Grace; 'till then I'll follow her.
Queen. Come, Son, away, we may not linger thus.

[Exeunt Queen and Prince,
K. Henry. Poor Queen,
How love to me, and to her Son,
Hath made her break out into terms of Rage.
Reveng'd 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.
Exe. And I hope shall reconcile them all. [Exit.

Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.
Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.
Edw. No, I can better play the Orator.
Mount. But I have reasons strong and forcible.

Enter the Duke of York.
York. Why, how now Sons and Brother, at a strife?
What is your Quarrel? how began it first?

Edw. No Quarrel, but a slight Contention.
YorkAbout what?

Rich. About that which concerns your Grace and us,
The Crown of England, Father, which is yours. Torki

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York. Mine, Boy? not 'till King Henry be dead. Rich. Your Right depends not' on his Life, or Death.

Edw. Now, you are Heir, therefore enjoy it now: By giving the House of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will out-run you, Father, in the end.

York. I took an Oath, that he mould quietly Reign.

Edw. But for a Kingdom any Oath may be broken: I would break a thousand Oaths to Reign one Year.

Rich. No; God forbid your Grace Mould be forsworn,
York. I shall be, if I claim by open War.
Rich. I'll the contrary, if you'll hear me speak.
York. Thou can'st not, Son, it is impossible.

Rich. An Oath is of no moment, being not took
Before a true and lawful Magistrate,
That hath Authority over him that Swears.
Henry had none, but did usurp the Place.
Then seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
Your Oath, my Lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore to Arms : and, Father, do but think,
How sweet a thing it is to wear a Crown,
Within whose Circuit is Elysium,
And all that Poets feign of 'Bliss and Joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest,
Until the white Rose that I wear, be dy'd
Even in the lukewarm Blood of Henry's Heart.

Tork. Richard, enough: I will be King, or die.
Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
And whet on Warwick to this Enterprize.
Thou, Richard, shalt go 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,
Witry, courteous, liberal, full of Spirit.
While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more,
But that I feck occafion how to rise?

yet the King not privy to my drift, Nor any of the House of Lancaster.

Enter Gabriel
But stay, what News? why com'st thou in such post?
Gab. 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 fortifie your Hold,


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.

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

[Exit Montague, Enter Sir John Mortimer, and Sir Hugh Mortimer. York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Uncles, You are come to Sandal in a happy hour. The Army of the Queen means to besiege us.

Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in the Field. York. What, with five thousand Men?

Rich. Ay, with five hundred, Father, for a need, A Woman's General; what should we fear?

[A march afar off
Edw. I hear their Drums:
Let's set our Men in order,
And issue forth, and bid them Battel ftreight.

York. Five Men to twenty, though the odds be great,
I doubt not, Uncle, of our Victory.
Many a Battel have I won in France,
When as the Enemy hath been ten to one :
Why should I not now have the like Success?

[Alarum. Exis.
Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.
Ruit. Ah, whether shall I Alie, to scape their Hands?
Ah, Tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes.

Enter Clifford.
Clif. Chaplain, away, thy Priesthood saves thy Life;
As for the Brat of this accurfed Duke,
Whose Father slew my Father, he shall die.
Twor. And I, my Lord, will bear him Company.

it again,

Clif. Soldiers, away with him. .

Turor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child, Lest chou be hated both of God and Man. [Exit.

Clif. How now? is he dead already?
Or is it fear that makes him close his Eyes?
I'll open them.

Rut. So looks the pent-up Lyon 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 afunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword,
And not with such a cruel threatning Look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die:
I am too mean a subje& of thy wrath,
Be thou reveng'd on Men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak’st, poor Boy:
My Father's Blood hath stopt the passage
Where thy Words should enter.
Rut. Then let my 'Father's Blood

open He is a Man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy Brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge fufficient for me:

No, if I digg'd up thy Fore-fathers Graves,
And hung their rotten Coffins up in Chains,
It could not flake mine Ire, por 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.

Rut. O let me pray before I take my Death:
To thee, I pray-sweet Clifford, pity me.

Clif. Such pity as my Rapier's point affords.
Rur. I never did thee harm; why wilt thou Nay me?
Clif. Thy Father hath.

Rut. But 'twas e'er I was born.
Thou halt one Son, for his fake pity me,
Lest in revenge thereof, lith God is just,
He be as miserably slain as I.
Ab, let me live in Prison all my Days,
And when I give occasion of Offence,


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