HENRY

Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.

K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue;

I am a king, and privileged to speak.

Clif. My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here,

Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still.
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword;
By him that made us all, I am resolved,
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.
Edw. 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,

War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy bead;

For York in justice puts his armour on.

Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says
is right,

There is no wrong, but every thing is right.
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother
stands;

For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.
Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire,
nor dam;

But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
As venom toads, or lizard's dreadful stings.
Rick. 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,

, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay:

[Exeunt. These words will cost ten thousand lives to day.

SCENE III-A Field of Battle between
Touton and Saxton in Yorkshire.
Alarums: Excursions.-Enter WARWICK.
War. 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 a while.
Enter EDWARD, running.

Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, un-
gentle death!

For this world frowns, aud Edward's sun is clouded.

War. How now, my lord? What hap? What hope of good?

To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?
Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thou-Thy
sand 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
France,

of

And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.
For what bath broach'd this tuniult, 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.

Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made
thy spring,

Aud that tby summer bred us no increase,
We set the axe to thy usurping root;

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 clangor 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.

War. 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 bere,
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.

Edw. 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,

And though the edge hath something hit our-I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,

selves,

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.
Edu. And, in this resolution, I defy thee;
Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.-
our bloody colours
Sound trumpets - Let

wave!

And either victory, or else a grave.

Q.Mar. Stay, Edward.

Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:-
!, that did never weep, now melt with woe,
That winter should cut off our spring-time so.
War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords,
farewell.

Geo. 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 are mere spectatort.

And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards
As victors wear at the Olympian games :
This may plaut courage in their quailing
breasts;

For yet is hope of life and victory.-
Fore-slow no longer, make we hence amain.
[Exeunt.
SCENE IV. The same.-Another part of
the Field.

Excursions.-Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD.
Rich. 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 thon environ'd with a brazen wall.

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here

alone:

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.
Aud to conclude,--The shepherd's homely cards,
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 wait on him.
Alarum.-Enter a Sox that has killed his
Father, dragging in the dead Body.
Son. I blows the wind, that profits no-
body.-

This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York:
And this the hand, that slew thy brother Rut-This man, whom hand in hand I slew in fight,

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;

K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morn-And no more words till they have flow'd their

ing's war,

When dying clouds contend with growing light;
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day or 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 self-same 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 poise of the fell war.
Here on this molebill 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

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 yean;
So many years ere I shall sheer the fleece :
So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and
years,

Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.

Sinking into dejection.

↑ To fore-stow is to be dilatory, to loiter

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'ercharged with
grief.

Enter a FATHER who hath killed his Son, wild
the Body in his arms.

Fath. Thou that so stoutly had 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 tell, 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. Woe above woe! Grief more than
common grief!

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 cheek, methinks, present:
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!

• This word here means dreadful events.

Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my | Bootless are plaints, and cureless

son, Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied? K. Hen. How will the country, for these ful chances,

Misthink the king, and not be satisfied?

wounds;

are my

No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight:
woe-The foe is merciless, and will not pity;
For, at their hands, I have deserved no pity;
The air bath got into my deadly wounds,
And much effuse of blood doth make me
faint :-

Son. Was ever son, so rued a father's death?
Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son?
K. Hen. Was ever king, so grieved for sub-
jects' woe?

Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much.
Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep
[Exit with the Body.
my fill.
Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy wind-
ing 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,
Sad 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 murder'd where I should not kill.
[Exit with the Body.
K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgoue
with care,
Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
Alarums: Excursions.-Enter Queen MAR-
CARET, 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 Berwick
post amain;

Edward and Richard, like a brace of grey-
bounds,

Paving the fearful flying hare in sight,
With tiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
Exe. Away for vengeance comes along with
them:

Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;
Or else come after, I'll away before.

K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet

Exeter :

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

SCENE VI.-The same.

A loud Alarum.-Enter CLIFFORD wounded.
Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it
dies,

Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light.
O Lancaster! I fear tby overthrow,

More than my body's parting with my soul.
My love and fear glew'd many friends to thee;
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt,
Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York.
The common people swarm like suminer flies:
And whither fly the guats, but to the sun?
And who shines now, but Heury's enemies?
O Phœbus! hadst thou never given consent
That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth:
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd

should do,

as kings

Or as thy father, and his father, did,
Given no ground unto the house of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies;
, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,
ad 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 make robbers bold, but too much
lenity !

• Think unfavourably of.

Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest;
I stabb'd your father's bosoms, 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. Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?

Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.

Edw. See who it is: and now the battler's
ended,

If friend or foe, let him be gently used.
Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for it's

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.
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 this fatal screech-owl to our

house,

That nothing sung but death to us and our's:
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening

sound,

And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
[Attendants bring the Body forward.
War. I think his understanding is bereit :-
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.

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
words..

Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no
grace.

Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy
faults.

Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to
York.

Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity
thee.

Geo, Where's captain Margaret to fence you

Rich. What hot an oath? Nay, then the | No humble suitors press to speak for right, world goes hard, No, not a man comes for redress of thee; For how can I help them, and not myself? 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee:

This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. K. Hen. Let me embrace these our adversities;

This hand should chop it off; and, with the is- For wise men say, it is the wisest course

A man at least, for less I should not be; Enter Two KEEPERS, with Cross-bows in their Aud men may talk of kings, and why not I?