Henry VI, Part 3 (Folio 1, 1623)
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The third Part of Henry the Sixt,vvith the death of the Duke ofYORKE.
1
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
¶
Alarum.
¶
Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mount-
¶
ague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.
5
Warwicke.
¶Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
10Whose Warlike eares could neuer brooke retreat,
¶Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himselfe.
¶Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a-brest
¶Charg'd our maine Battailes Front: and breaking in,
¶Were by the Swords of common Souldiers slaine.
15Edw. Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham,
¶Is either slaine or wounded dangerous.
¶I cleft his Beauer with a down-right blow:
¶That this is true (Father) behold his blood.
20Whom I encountred as the Battels ioyn'd.
¶Rich. Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did.
¶But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?
¶Nor. Such hope haue all the line of Iohn of Gaunt.
30This is the Pallace of the fearefull King,
¶For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires.
¶For hither we haue broken in by force.
¶And Souldiers stay and lodge by me this Night.
¶
They goe vp._
¶ Warw. And when the King comes, offer him no violence,
¶Plant. The Queene this day here holds her Parliament,
¶By words or blowes here let vs winne our right.
¶Hath made vs by-words to our enemies.
¶Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares:
¶
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland,
¶Euen in the Chayre of State: belike he meanes,
60Backt by the power of Warwicke, that false Peere,
¶To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King.
¶Earle of Northumberland, he slew thy Father,
¶And thine, Lord Clifford, & you both haue vow'd reuenge
¶On him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his friends.
65Northumb. If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me.
¶ Clifford. The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne in
¶Steele.
¶My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it.
¶My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament
¶Henry. Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them,
¶And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck?
¶flye.
80 Henry. Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart,
¶To make a Shambles of the Parliament House.
¶Cousin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats,
¶Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vse.
¶Thou factious Duke of Yorke descend my Throne,
85And kneele for grace and mercie at my feet,
¶I am thy Soueraigne.
¶Yorke. I am thine.
¶Yorke.
90Yorke. It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was.
¶Exet. Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne.
¶Warw. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne,
¶In following this vsurping Henry.
95King?
¶Warw. True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke.
¶That we are those which chas'd you from the field,
105Marcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates.
¶Northumb. Yes Warwicke, I remember it to my griefe,
¶Thy Kinsmen, and thy Friends, Ile haue more liues
110Then drops of bloud were in my Fathers Veines.
115Threats.
¶If not, our Swords shall pleade it in the field.
¶My Father was as thou art, Duke of Yorke,
120Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of March.
¶I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift,
¶Who made the Dolphin and the French to stoupe,
¶And seiz'd vpon their Townes and Prouinces.
¶When I was crown'd, I was but nine moneths old.
¶Rich. You are old enough now,
¶And yet me thinkes you loose:
¶Father teare the Crowne from the Vsurpers Head.
¶Mount. Good Brother,
¶Let's fight it out, and not stand cauilling thus.
¶ Richard. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the
135King will flye.
¶Plant. Sonnes peace.
¶ Henry. Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue to
¶speake.
140And be you silent and attentiue too,
¶For he that interrupts him, shall not liue.
145I, and their Colours often borne in France,
¶And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow,
¶Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords?
¶My Title's good, and better farre then his.
¶Tell me, may not a King adopt an Heire?
¶Plant. What then?
155Henry. And if he may, then am I lawfull King:
¶For Richard, in the view of many Lords,
¶Resign'd the Crowne to Henry the Fourth,
¶Whose Heire my Father was, and I am his.
160And made him to resigne his Crowne perforce.
¶Thinke you 'twere preiudiciall to his Crowne?
¶Exet. His is the right, and therefore pardon me.
¶Henry. All will reuolt from me, and turne to him.
¶Northumb. Thou art deceiu'd:
¶'Tis not thy Southerne power
¶Which makes thee thus presumptuous and prowd,
¶Clifford. King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong,
¶Lord Clifford vowes to fight in thy defence:
180May that ground gape, and swallow me aliue,
¶Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words reuiue my heart.
¶What mutter you, or what conspire you Lords?
185Warw. Doe right vnto this Princely Duke of Yorke,
¶Or I will fill the House with armed men,
¶And ouer the Chayre of State, where now he sits,
¶Write vp his Title with vsurping blood.
¶
_ He stampes with his foot, and the Souldiers
¶Henry. My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word,
¶Let me for this my life time reigne as King.
¶ Plant. Confirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires,
195Henry. I am content: Richard Plantagenet
¶Enioy the Kingdome after my decease.
¶ Clifford. What wrong is this vnto the Prince, your
¶Sonne?
¶Northumb. Nor I.
205Newes.
¶Westm. Farwell faint-hearted and degenerate King,
¶And dye in Bands, for this vnmanly deed.
¶Or liue in peace abandon'd and despis'd.
¶Warw. Turne this way Henry, and regard them not.
¶yeeld.
215Henry. Ah Exeter.
¶Whom I vnnaturally shall dis-inherite.
¶But be it as it may: I here entayle
220The Crowne to thee and to thine Heires for euer,
¶Conditionally, that heere thou take an Oath,
¶To honor me as thy King, and Soueraigne:
¶Plant. This Oath I willingly take, and will performe.
¶ Warw. Long liue King Henry: Plantagenet embrace
¶him.
230Sonnes.
¶
Senet. Here they come downe.
235Warw. And Ile keepe London with my Souldiers.
¶Norf. And I to Norfolke with my followers.
¶Mount. And I vnto the Sea, from whence I came.
¶
Enter the Queene.
240Exeter. Heere comes the Queene,
¶Whose Lookes bewray her anger:
¶Ile steale away.
¶Queene. Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee.
¶Ah wretched man, would I had dy'de a Maid?
¶And neuer seene thee, neuer borne thee Sonne,
¶Or felt that paine which I did for him once,
¶Or nourisht him, as I did with my blood;
255Rather then haue made that sauage Duke thine Heire,
¶And dis-inherited thine onely Sonne.
¶Prince. Father, you cannot dis-inherite me:
260The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enforc't me.
¶ Quee. Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forc't?
¶To entayle him and his Heires vnto the Crowne,
¶What is it, but to make thy Sepulcher,
¶And creepe into it farre before thy time?
¶Warwick is Chancelor, and the Lord of Callice,
270Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas,
¶The Duke is made Protector of the Realme,
¶The trembling Lambe, inuironned with Wolues.
¶Had I beene there, which am a silly Woman,
275The Souldiers should haue toss'd me on their Pikes,
¶Before I would haue granted to that Act.
¶But thou preferr'st thy Life, before thine Honor.
¶Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed,
280Vntill that Act of Parliament be repeal'd,
¶Whereby my Sonne is dis-inherited.
¶The Northerne Lords, that haue forsworne thy Colours,
285And vtter ruine of the House of Yorke.
¶Thus doe I leaue thee: Come Sonne, let's away,
¶Our Army is ready; come, wee'le after them.
290gone.
¶Queene. I, to be murther'd by his Enemies.
¶Prince. When I returne with victorie to the field,
¶Ile see your Grace: till then, Ile follow her.
295Queene. Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus.
¶Henry. Poore Queene,
¶How loue to me, and to her Sonne,
¶Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage.
¶Reueng'd may she be on that hatefull Duke,
¶Will cost my Crowne, and like an emptie Eagle,
¶Tyre on the flesh of me, and of my Sonne.
¶Ile write vnto them, and entreat them faire;
¶
Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and
¶Mountague.
310leaue.
¶Edward. No, I can better play the Orator.
¶
Enter the Duke of Yorke.
315What is your Quarrell? how began it first?
¶Yorke. About what?
¶ Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and vs,
¶The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours.
320Yorke. Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead.
¶ Richard. Your Right depends not on his life, or death.
¶Edward. Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now:
¶It will out-runne you, Father, in the end.
¶reigne.
¶ Edward. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken:
¶I would breake a thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere.
330sworne.
¶ Richard. Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare mee
¶speake.
335Richard. An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke
¶Before a true and lawfull Magistrate,
¶That hath authoritie ouer him that sweares.
¶Henry had none, but did vsurpe the place.
340Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous.
¶Therefore to Armes: and Father doe but thinke,
¶How sweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne,
¶Within whose Circuit is Elizium,
345Why doe we linger thus? I cannot rest,
¶Vntill the White Rose that I weare, be dy'de
¶Euen in the luke-warme blood of Henries heart.
¶Yorke. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye.
350And whet on Warwick to this Enterprise.
¶Thou Richard shalt to the Duke of Norfolke,
¶And tell him priuily of our intent.
¶You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham,
355In them I trust: for they are Souldiors,
¶Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit.
¶While you are thus imploy'd, what resteth more?
¶And yet the King not priuie to my Drift,
¶
Enter Gabriel.
¶poste?
¶Gabriel. The Queene,
365With all the Northerne Earles and Lords,
¶She is hard by, with twentie thousand men:
¶And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord.
¶Yorke. I, with my Sword.
370What? think'st thou, that we feare them?
¶Let Noble Warwicke, Cobham, and the rest,
¶Whom we haue left Protectors of the King,
¶Mount. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not.
¶And thus most humbly I doe take my leaue.
¶
Exit Mountague._
380
Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.
¶York. Sir Iohn, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles,
¶You are come to Sandall in a happie houre.
¶The Armie of the Queene meane to besiege vs.
385field.
¶Richard. I, with fiue hundred, Father, for a neede.
¶A Woman's generall: what should we feare?
¶
A March afarre off._
390Edward. I heare their Drummes:
¶Let's set our men in order,
¶ Yorke. Fiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great,
¶I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Victorie.
395Many a Battaile haue I wonne in France,
¶When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one:
¶
Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.
¶Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes.
¶
Enter Clifford.
¶As for the Brat of this accursed Duke,
¶Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company.
¶Clifford. Souldiers, away with him.
¶Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child,
¶Least thou be hated both of God and Man.
Exit._
410Clifford. How now? is he dead alreadie?
¶Or is it feare, that makes him close his eyes?
¶Ile open them.
¶ Rutland. So looks the pent-vp Lyon o're the Wretch,
¶That trembles vnder his deuouring Pawes:
¶Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword,
¶And not with such a cruell threatning Looke.
¶Sweet Clifford heare me speake, before I dye:
420I am too meane a subiect for thy Wrath,
¶Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue.
¶Where thy words should enter.
425Rutland. Then let my Fathers blood open it againe,
¶He is a man, and Clifford cope with him.
¶ Clifford. Had I thy Brethren here, their liues and thine
¶Were not reuenge sufficient for me:
¶No, if I digg'd vp thy fore-fathers Graues,
430And hung their rotten Coffins vp in Chaynes,
¶Is as a furie to torment my Soule:
¶And till I root out their accursed Line,
435And leaue not one aliue, I liue in Hell.
¶Therefore---
¶Rutland. Oh let me pray, before I take my death:
¶To thee I pray; sweet Clifford pitty me.
¶Clifford. Such pitty as my Rapiers point affords.
¶me?
¶Clifford. Thy Father hath.
¶Rutland. But 'twas ere I was borne.
¶Ah, let me liue in Prison all my dayes,
¶And when I giue occasion of offence,
¶fore dye.
¶Clifford. Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet:
¶And this thy Sonnes blood cleauing to my Blade,
455Shall rust vpon my Weapon, till thy blood
¶Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both.
Exit.
¶
Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of Yorke.
¶Yorke. The Army of the Queene hath got the field:
460And all my followers, to the eager foe
¶Turne back, and flye, like Ships before the Winde,
¶My Sonnes, God knowes what hath bechanced them:
¶But this I know, they haue demean'd themselues
465Like men borne to Renowne, by Life or Death.
¶Three times did Richard make a Lane to me,
¶And thrice cry'de, Courage Father, fight it out:
¶And full as oft came Edward to my side,
¶With Purple Faulchion, painted to the Hilt,
470In blood of those that had encountred him:
¶And when the hardyest Warriors did retyre,
¶Richard cry'de, Charge, and giue no foot of ground,
¶And cry'de, A Crowne, or else a glorious Tombe,
¶A Scepter, or an Earthly Sepulchre.
475With this we charg'd againe: but out alas,
¶We bodg'd againe, as I haue seene a Swan
¶
A short Alarum within._
480Ah hearke, the fatall followers doe pursue,
¶And I am faint, and cannot flye their furie:
¶The Sands are numbred, that makes vp my Life,
485
Enter the Queene, Clifford, Northumberland,
¶the young Prince, and Souldiers.
¶Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
¶I am your Butt, and I abide your Shot.
490Northumb. Yeeld to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
¶With downe-right payment, shew'd vnto my Father.
¶Now Phæton hath tumbled from his Carre,
¶And made an Euening at the Noone-tide Prick.
¶A Bird, that will reuenge vpon you all:
¶And in that hope, I throw mine eyes to Heauen,
¶Scorning what ere you can afflict me with.
¶Why come you not? what, multitudes, and feare?
500 Cliff. So Cowards fight, when they can flye no further,
¶So Doues doe peck the Faulcons piercing Tallons,
¶Breathe out Inuectiues 'gainst the Officers.
¶Yorke. Oh Clifford, but bethinke thee once againe,
505And in thy thought ore-run my former time:
¶And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with Cowardice,
¶Whose frowne hath made thee faint and flye ere this.
¶Clifford. I will not bandie with thee word for word,
510But buckler with thee blowes twice two for one.
¶I would prolong a while the Traytors Life:
¶Wrath makes him deafe; speake thou Northumberland.
515To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart.
¶What valour were it, when a Curre doth grinne,
¶For one to thrust his Hand betweene his Teeth,
¶When he might spurne him with his Foot away?
¶It is Warres prize, to take all Vantages,
520And tenne to one, is no impeach of Valour.
¶Gynne.
¶Net.
525 York. So triumph Theeues vpon their conquer'd Booty,
¶So True men yeeld with Robbers, so o're-matcht.
¶ Northumb. What would your Grace haue done vnto
¶him now?
¶ Queene. Braue Warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
530Come make him stand vpon this Mole-hill here,
¶That raught at Mountaines with out-stretched Armes,
¶Yet parted but the shadow with his Hand.
¶What, was it you that would be Englands King?
¶Was't you that reuell'd in our Parliament,
535And made a Preachment of your high Descent?
¶The wanton Edward, and the lustie George?
¶And where's that valiant Crook-back Prodigie.
¶Dickie, your Boy, that with his grumbling voyce
540Was wont to cheare his Dad in Mutinies?
¶Or with the rest, where is your Darling, Rutland?
¶Looke Yorke, I stayn'd this Napkin with the blood
¶That valiant Clifford, with his Rapiers point,
545And if thine eyes can water for his death,
¶I giue thee this to drie thy Cheekes withall.
¶Alas poore Yorke, but that I hate thee deadly,
¶I prythee grieue, to make me merry, Yorke.
550What, hath thy fierie heart so parcht thine entrayles,
¶That not a Teare can fall, for Rutlands death?
¶And I, to make thee mad, doe mock thee thus.
¶Stampe, raue, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
¶A Crowne for Yorke; and Lords, bow lowe to him:
¶I marry Sir, now lookes he like a King:
560I, this is he that tooke King Henries Chaire,
¶And this is he was his adopted Heire.
¶But how is it, that great Plantagenet
¶As I bethinke me, you should not be King,
565Till our King Henry had shooke hands with Death.
¶And will you pale your head in Henries Glory,
¶And rob his Temples of the Diademe,
¶Now in his Life, against your holy Oath?
¶Oh 'tis a fault too too vnpardonable.
570Off with the Crowne; and with the Crowne, his Head,
¶And whilest we breathe, take time to doe him dead.
¶makes.
575Yorke. Shee-Wolfe of France,
¶But worse then Wolues of France,
¶How ill-beseeming is it in thy Sex,
¶To triumph like an Amazonian Trull,
580Vpon their Woes, whom Fortune captiuates?
¶But that thy Face is Vizard-like, vnchanging,
¶Made impudent with vse of euill deedes.
¶To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriu'd,
¶Thy Father beares the type of King of Naples,
¶Of both the Sicils, and Ierusalem,
590Hath that poore Monarch taught thee to insult?
¶It needes not, nor it bootes thee not, prowd Queene,
¶That Beggers mounted, runne their Horse to death.
¶'Tis Beautie that doth oft make Women prowd,
¶'Tis Vertue, that doth make them most admir'd,
¶The contrary, doth make thee wondred at.
¶'Tis Gouernment that makes them seeme Diuine,
¶The want thereof, makes thee abhominable.
600Thou art as opposite to euery good,
¶As the Antipodes are vnto vs,
¶Or as the South to the Septentrion.
¶Oh Tygres Heart, wrapt in a Womans Hide,
¶How could'st thou drayne the Life-blood of the Child,
605To bid the Father wipe his eyes withall,
¶And yet be seene to beare a Womans face?
¶Women are soft, milde, pittifull, and flexible;
¶And when the Rage allayes, the Raine begins.
¶And euery drop cryes vengeance for his death,
¶That hardly can I check my eyes from Teares.
¶Yorke. That Face of his,
¶The hungry Caniballs would not haue toucht,
620Would not haue stayn'd with blood:
¶But you are more inhumane, more inexorable,
¶Oh, tenne times more then Tygers of Hyrcania.
625And I with Teares doe wash the blood away.
¶Keepe thou the Napkin, and goe boast of this,
¶Vpon my Soule, the hearers will shed Teares:
630And say, Alas, it was a pittious deed.
¶There, take the Crowne, and with the Crowne, my Curse,
¶And in thy need, such comfort come to thee,
¶As now I reape at thy too cruell hand.
¶Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the World,
635My Soule to Heauen, my Blood vpon your Heads.
¶I should not for my Life but weepe with him,
¶To see how inly Sorrow gripes his Soule.
¶ Queen. What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
640Thinke but vpon the wrong he did vs all,
¶And that will quickly drie thy melting Teares.
¶ Clifford. Heere's for my Oath, heere's for my Fathers
¶Death.
¶ Queene. And heere's to right our gentle-hearted
645King.
¶Yorke. Open thy Gate of Mercy, gracious God,
¶So Yorke may ouer-looke the Towne of Yorke.
650
Flourish. Exit.
¶
A March. Enter Edward, Richard,
¶and their power.
¶Or whether he be scap't away, or no,
655From Cliffords and Northumberlands pursuit?
¶Had he been ta'ne, we should haue heard the newes;
¶The happy tidings of his good escape.
¶Where our right valiant Father is become.
¶I saw him in the Battaile range about,
¶And watcht him how he singled Clifford forth.
665Me thought he bore him in the thickest troupe,
¶As doth a Lyon in a Heard of Neat,
¶Or as a Beare encompass'd round with Dogges:
¶Who hauing pincht a few, and made them cry,
670So far'd our Father with his Enemies,
¶So fled his Enemies my Warlike Father:
¶Me thinkes 'tis prize enough to be his Sonne.
¶See how the Morning opes her golden Gates,
¶And takes her farwell of the glorious Sunne.
675How well resembles it the prime of Youth,
¶Trimm'd like a Yonker, prauncing to his Loue?
¶ Rich. Three glorious Sunnes, each one a perfect Sunne,
¶Not seperated with the racking Clouds,
¶As if they vow'd some League inuiolable.
¶Now are they but one Lampe, one Light, one Sunne:
¶In this, the Heauen figures some euent.
¶The like yet neuer heard of.
¶I thinke it cites vs (Brother) to the field,
¶That wee, the Sonnes of braue Plantagenet,
¶Each one alreadie blazing by our meedes,
690Should notwithstanding ioyne our Lights together,
¶And ouer-shine the Earth, as this the World.
¶What ere it bodes, hence-forward will I beare
¶Vpon my Targuet three faire shining Sunnes.
¶Richard. Nay, beare three Daughters:
695By your leaue, I speake it,
¶You loue the Breeder better then the Male.
¶
Enter one blowing.
¶But what art thou, whose heauie Lookes fore-tell
¶Some dreadfull story hanging on thy Tongue?
700Mess. Ah, one that was a wofull looker on,
¶When as the Noble Duke of Yorke was slaine,
¶Your Princely Father, and my louing Lord.
¶much.
705Richard. Say how he dy'de, for I will heare it all.
¶Mess. Enuironed he was with many foes,
¶Against the Greekes, that would haue entred Troy.
710And many stroakes, though with a little Axe,
¶Hewes downe and fells the hardest-tymber'd Oake.
¶By many hands your Father was subdu'd,
¶But onely slaught'red by the irefull Arme
¶Of vn-relenting Clifford, and the Queene:
715Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despight,
¶Laugh'd in his face: and when with griefe he wept,
720And after many scornes, many foule taunts,
¶They tooke his Head, and on the Gates of Yorke
¶ Edward. Sweet Duke of Yorke, our Prop to leane vpon,
725Now thou art gone, wee haue no Staffe, no Stay.
¶The flowre of Europe, for his Cheualrie,
¶For hand to hand he would haue vanquisht thee.
730Now my Soules Pallace is become a Prison:
¶Ah, would she breake from hence, that this my body
¶For neuer henceforth shall I ioy againe:
¶Nor can my tongue vnloade my hearts great burthen,
¶Is kindling coales that fires all my brest,
740And burnes me vp with flames, that tears would quench.
¶Teares then for Babes; Blowes, and Reuenge for mee.
¶Richard, I beare thy name, Ile venge thy death,
¶Or dye renowned by attempting it.
745Ed. His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee:
¶His Dukedome, and his Chaire with me is left.
¶Rich. Nay, if thou be that Princely Eagles Bird,
¶For Chaire and Dukedome, Throne and Kingdome say,
750Either that is thine, or else thou wer't not his.
¶
March. Enter Warwicke, Marquesse Mountacute,
¶and their Army.
¶ Warwick. How now faire Lords? What faire? What
¶_newes abroad?
¶Our balefull newes, and at each words deliuerance
¶Stab Poniards in our flesh, till all were told,
¶The words would adde more anguish then the wounds.
¶O valiant Lord, the Duke of Yorke is slaine.
760Edw. O Warwicke, Warwicke, that Plantagenet
¶Which held thee deerely, as his Soules Redemption,
¶Is by the sterne Lord Clifford done to death.
¶And now to adde more measure to your woes,
765I come to tell you things sith then befalne.
¶After the bloody Fray at Wakefield fought,
770I then in London, keeper of the King,
¶Muster'd my Soldiers, gathered flockes of Friends,
¶Marcht toward S. Albons, to intercept the Queene,
¶Bearing the King in my behalfe along:
¶For by my Scouts, I was aduertised
775That she was comming with a full intent
¶To dash our late Decree in Parliament,
¶Short Tale to make, we at S. Albons met,
¶Our Battailes ioyn'd, and both sides fiercely fought:
¶Who look'd full gently on his warlike Queene,
¶That robb'd my Soldiers of their heated Spleene.
¶Or more then common feare of Cliffords Rigour,
785Who thunders to his Captiues, Blood and Death,
¶I cannot iudge: but to conclude with truth,
¶Their Weapons like to Lightning, came and went:
¶Our Souldiers like the Night-Owles lazie flight,
¶Or like a lazie Thresher with a Flaile,
790Fell gently downe, as if they strucke their Friends.
¶With promise of high pay, and great Rewards:
¶But all in vaine, they had no heart to fight,
¶And we (in them) no hope to win the day,
795So that we fled: the King vnto the Queene,
¶Lord George, your Brother, Norfolke, and my Selfe,
¶For in the Marches heere we heard you were,
¶Making another Head, to fight againe.
800 Ed. Where is the Duke of Norfolke, gentle Warwick?
¶And when came George from Burgundy to England?
¶And for your Brother he was lately sent
805With ayde of Souldiers to this needfull Warre.
¶ Rich. 'Twas oddes belike, when valiant Warwick fled;
¶But ne're till now, his Scandall of Retire.
¶Can plucke the Diadem from faint Henries head,
¶And wring the awefull Scepter from his Fist,
¶Were he as famous, and as bold in Warre,
815Rich. I know it well Lord Warwick, blame me not,
¶'Tis loue I beare thy glories make me speake:
¶But in this troublous time, what's to be done?
¶Shall we go throw away our Coates of Steele,
¶And wrap our bodies in blacke mourning Gownes,
820Numb'ring our Aue-Maries with our Beads?
¶Or shall we on the Helmets of our Foes
¶Tell our Deuotion with reuengefull Armes?
825And therefore comes my Brother Mountague:
¶Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene,
¶With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland,
¶And of their Feather, many moe proud Birds,
¶Haue wrought the easie-melting King, like Wax.
¶His Oath enrolled in the Parliament.
¶And now to London all the crew are gone,
¶Now, if the helpe of Norfolke, and my selfe,
¶With all the Friends that thou braue Earle of March,
¶Will but amount to fiue and twenty thousand,
840Why Via, to London will we march,
¶And once againe, bestride our foaming Steeds,
¶And once againe cry Charge vpon our Foes,
¶But neuer once againe turne backe and flye.
¶That cries Retire, if Warwicke bid him stay.
¶And when thou failst (as God forbid the houre)
¶Must Edward fall, which perill heauen forefend.
850 War. No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke:
¶The next degree, is Englands Royall Throne:
¶For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
¶And he that throwes not vp his cap for ioy,
855Shall for the Fault make forfeit of his head.
¶King Edward, valiant Richard Mountague:
¶Stay we no longer, dreaming of Renowne,
¶ Rich. Then Clifford, were thy heart as hard as Steele,
¶I come to pierce it, or to giue thee mine.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
¶War. How now? what newes?
¶
Exeunt Omnes._
870
Flourish. Enter the King, the Queene, Clifford, Northum-
¶ Qu. Welcome my Lord, to this braue town of Yorke,
¶Yonders the head of that Arch-enemy,
¶Doth not the obiect cheere your heart, my Lord.
¶ K. I, as the rockes cheare them that feare their wrack,
¶With-hold reuenge (deere God) 'tis not my fault,
880Nor wittingly haue I infring'd my Vow.
¶Clif. My gracious Liege, this too much lenity
¶To whom do Lyons cast their gentle Lookes?
¶Not his that spoyles her yong before her face.
¶Not he that sets his foot vpon her backe.
890And Doues will pecke in safegard of their Brood.
¶Ambitious Yorke, did leuell at thy Crowne,
¶Thou smiling, while he knit his angry browes.
¶He but a Duke, would haue his Sonne a King,
¶Which argued thee a most vnlouing Father.
¶Vnreasonable Creatures feed their young,
¶And though mans face be fearefull to their eyes,
900Yet in protection of their tender ones,
¶Which sometime they haue vs'd with fearfull flight,
¶Make warre with him that climb'd vnto their nest,
¶Offering their owne liues in their yongs defence?
¶Were it not pitty that this goodly Boy
¶Should loose his Birth-right by his Fathers fault,
¶And long heereafter say vnto his childe,
¶What my great Grandfather, and Grandsire got,
¶Ah, what a shame were this? Looke on the Boy,
¶And let his manly face, which promiseth
¶To hold thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him.
915King. Full well hath Clifford plaid the Orator,
¶Inferring arguments of mighty force:
¶But Clifford tell me, did'st thou neuer heare,
¶And happy alwayes was it for that Sonne,
920Whose Father for his hoording went to hell:
¶Ile leaue my Sonne my Vertuous deeds behinde,
¶And would my Father had left me no more:
¶As brings a thousand fold more care to keepe,
¶How it doth greeue me that thy head is heere.
¶And this soft courage makes your Followers faint:
¶Edward, kneele downe.
935Prin. My gracious Father, by your Kingly leaue,
¶Ile draw it as Apparant to the Crowne,
¶And in that quarrell, vse it to the death.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
¶For with a Band of thirty thousand men,
¶Comes Warwicke backing of the Duke of Yorke,
¶And in the Townes as they do march along,
¶Proclaimes him King, and many flye to him,
945Darraigne your battell, for they are at hand.
¶Qu. I good my Lord, and leaue vs to our Fortune.
¶And hearten those that fight in your defence:
¶Vnsheath your Sword, good Father: Cry S. George.
¶
March. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, Clarence,
955Norfolke, Mountague, and Soldiers.
¶ Edw. Now periur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace?
¶And set thy Diadem vpon my head?
¶Or bide the mortall Fortune of the field.
960Becomes it thee to be thus bold in termes,
¶Before thy Soueraigne, and thy lawfull King?
¶I was adopted Heire by his consent.
¶Cla. Since when, his Oath is broke: for as I heare,
965You that are King, though he do weare the Crowne,
¶Haue caus'd him by new Act of Parliament,
¶To blot out me, and put his owne Sonne in.
¶ Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd yong Rutland, was it not?
¶Wilt thou yeeld the Crowne?
¶When you and I, met at S. Albons last,
980Your legges did better seruice then your hands.
¶ War. Then 'twas my turne to fly, and now 'tis thine:
¶ War. 'Twas not your valor Clifford droue me thence.
985Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reuerently,
¶The execution of my big-swolne heart
¶Vpon that Clifford, that cruell Child-killer.
¶As thou didd'st kill our tender Brother Rutland,
¶ King. Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare
¶me speake.
¶King. I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue,
¶I am a King, and priuiledg'd to speake.
¶ Clif. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here,
¶Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still.
¶By him that made vs all, I am resolu'd,
¶That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue.
¶War. If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head,
¶For Yorke in iustice put's his Armour on.
¶There is no wrong, but euery thing is right.
¶For well I vvot, thou hast thy Mothers tongue.
¶Qu. But thou art neyther like thy Sire nor Damme,
¶But like a foule mishapen Stygmaticke,
¶Mark'd by the Destinies to be auoided,
1015As venome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull stings.
¶Whose Father beares the Title of a King,
¶(As if a Channell should be call'd the Sea)
¶Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
1020To let thy tongue detect thy base-borne heart.
¶Helen of Greece was fayrer farre then thou,
¶Although thy Husband may be Menelaus;
1025And ne're was Agamemnons Brother wrong'd
¶By that false Woman, as this King by thee.
¶His Father reuel'd in the heart of France,
¶And tam'd the King, and made the Dolphin stoope:
¶And had he match'd according to his State,
1030He might haue kept that glory to this day.
¶But when he tooke a begger to his bed,
¶And grac'd thy poore Sire with his Bridall day,
¶That washt his Fathers fortunes forth of France,
1035And heap'd sedition on his Crowne at home:
¶For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride?
¶And we in pitty of the Gentle King,
¶Had slipt our Claime, vntill another Age.
¶And that thy Summer bred vs no increase,
1045Wee'l neuer leaue, till we haue hewne thee downe,
¶Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods.
¶Not willing any longer Conference,
1050Sound Trumpets, let our bloody Colours waue,
¶And either Victorie, or else a Graue.
¶Qu. Stay Edward.
1055
Exeunt omnes._
¶
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke.
¶I lay me downe a little while to breath:
¶For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid,
¶
Enter Edward running.
¶For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded.
1065 War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of
¶good?
¶
Enter Clarence.
¶Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs.
¶
Enter Richard.
1075Thy Brothers blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
¶Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffords Launce:
¶And in the very pangs of death, he cryde,
¶Like to a dismall Clangor heard from farre,
¶Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge my death.
1080So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds,
¶The Noble Gentleman gaue vp the ghost.
¶War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:
¶And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie
¶Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors.
¶Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue,
¶Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,
¶Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge.
¶Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine,
¶And in this vow do chaine my soule to thine:
1095And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold face,
¶I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
¶Thou setter vp, and plucker downe of Kings:
¶That to my Foes this body must be prey,
1100Yet that thy brazen gates of heauen may ope,
¶Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe,
¶Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth.
¶Rich. Brother,
1105Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,
¶Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes:
¶I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo,
¶War. Away, away:
1110Once more sweet Lords farwell.
¶Cla. Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes,
¶And giue them leaue to flye, that will not stay:
¶And call them Pillars that will stand to vs:
1115As Victors weare at the Olympian Games.
¶This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,
¶For yet is hope of Life and Victory:
¶Foreslow no longer, make we hence amaine.
Exeunt
¶
Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford.
¶Suppose this arme is for the Duke of Yorke,
¶And this for Rutland, both bound to reuenge,
¶Wer't thou inuiron'd with a Brazen wall.
¶Clif. Now Richard, I am with thee heere alone,
1125This is the hand that stabb'd thy Father Yorke,
¶And this the hand, that slew thy Brother Rutland,
¶And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death,
¶To execute the like vpon thy selfe,
1130And so haue at thee.
¶
They Fight, Warwicke comes, Clifford flies.
¶For I my selfe will hunt this Wolfe to death.
_
Exeunt.
¶
Alarum. Enter King Henry alone.
1135Hen. This battell fares like to the mornings Warre,
¶When dying clouds contend, with growing light,
¶What time the Shepheard blowing of his nailes,
¶Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.
¶Now swayes it this way, like a Mighty Sea,
1140Forc'd by the Tide, to combat with the Winde:
¶Forc'd to retyre by furie of the Winde.
¶Sometime, the Flood preuailes; and than the Winde:
¶Now, one the better: then, another best;
¶Yet neither Conqueror, nor Conquered.
¶So is the equall poise of this fell Warre.
¶Heere on this Mole-hill will I sit me downe,
¶To whom God will, there be the Victorie:
1150For Margaret my Queene, and Clifford too
¶Haue chid me from the Battell: Swearing both,
¶Would I were dead, if Gods good will were so;
¶For what is in this world, but Greefe and Woe.
1155Oh God! me thinkes it were a happy life,
¶To be no better then a homely Swaine,
¶To sit vpon a hill, as I do now,
¶To carue out Dialls queintly, point by point,
¶Thereby to see the Minutes how they runne:
1160How many makes the Houre full compleate,
¶How many Houres brings about the Day,
¶How many Dayes will finish vp the Yeare,
¶How many Yeares, a Mortall man may liue.
¶When this is knowne, then to diuide the Times:
1165So many Houres, must I tend my Flocke;
¶So many Houres, must I Contemplate:
¶So many Dayes, my Ewes haue bene with yong:
1170So many weekes, ere the poore Fooles will Eane:
¶So Minutes, Houres, Dayes, Monthes, and Yeares,
¶Past ouer to the end they were created,
¶Would bring white haires, vnto a Quiet graue.
1175Ah! what a life were this? How sweet? how louely?
¶To Shepheards, looking on their silly Sheepe,
¶Then doth a rich Imbroider'd Canopie
¶To Kings, that feare their Subiects treacherie?
1180Oh yes, it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
¶And to conclude, the Shepherds homely Curds,
¶His cold thinne drinke out of his Leather Bottle,
1185Is farre beyond a Princes Delicates:
¶His Viands sparkling in a Golden Cup,
¶His bodie couched in a curious bed,
¶
Alarum. Enter a Sonne that hath kill'd his Father, at
¶Son. Ill blowes the winde that profits no body,
¶This man whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
1195And I that (haply) take them from him now,
¶May yet (ere night) yeeld both my Life and them
¶Who's this? Oh God! It is my Fathers face,
¶Whom in this Conflict, I (vnwares) haue kill'd:
1200Oh heauy times! begetting such Euents.
¶From London, by the King was I prest forth,
¶My Father being the Earle of Warwickes man,
¶And I, who at his hands receiu'd my life,
1205Haue by my hands, of Life bereaued him.
¶Pardon me God, I knew not what I did:
¶And pardon Father, for I knew not thee.
¶And no more words, till they haue flow'd their fill.
¶Whiles Lyons Warre, and battaile for their Dennes,
¶Weepe wretched man: Ile ayde thee Teare for Teare,
¶And let our hearts and eyes, like Ciuill Warre,
1215Be blinde with teares, and break ore-charg'd with griefe
¶
Enter Father, bearing of his Sonne.
¶Giue me thy Gold, if thou hast any Gold:
¶For I haue bought it with an hundred blowes.
1220But let me see: Is this our Foe-mans face?
¶Ah, no, no, no, it is mine onely Sonne.
¶Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee,
¶Blowne with the windie Tempest of my heart,
1225Vpon thy wounds, that killes mine Eye, and Heart.
¶O pitty God, this miserable Age!
¶What Stragems? how fell? how Butcherly?
¶Erreoneous, mutinous, and vnnaturall,
¶This deadly quarrell daily doth beget?
1230O Boy! thy Father gaue thee life too soone,
¶And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.
¶ King. Wo aboue wo: greefe, more thẽ common greefe
¶O pitty, pitty, gentle heauen pitty:
1235The Red Rose and the White are on his face,
¶The one, his purple Blood right well resembles,
¶The other his pale Cheekes (me thinkes) presenteth:
¶Son. How will my Mother, for a Fathers death
¶ Son. Ile beare thee hence, where I may weepe my fill.
¶For from my heart, thine Image ne're shall go.
¶As Priam was for all his Valiant Sonnes,
¶Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will,
1260For I haue murthered where I should not kill.
Exit
¶Hen. Sad-hearted-men, much ouergone with Care;
¶Heere sits a King, more wofull then you are.
¶
Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the
¶Prince, and Exeter.
1265Prin. Fly Father, flye: for all your Friends are fled.
¶And Warwicke rages like a chafed Bull:
¶Away, for death doth hold vs in pursuite.
¶_maine:
1270Edward and Richard like a brace of Grey-hounds,
¶Hauing the fearfull flying Hare in sight,
¶With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
¶Are at our backes, and therefore hence amaine.
1275 Exet. Away: for vengeance comes along with them.
¶Or else come after, Ile away before.
¶Not that I feare to stay, but loue to go
1280Whether the Queene intends. Forward, away.
Exeunt
¶
A lowd alarum. Enter Clifford Wounded.
¶Clif. Heere burnes my Candle out; I, heere it dies,
¶Which whiles it lasted, gaue King Henry light.
¶O Lancaster! I feare thy ouerthrow,
1285More then my Bodies parting with my Soule:
¶My Loue and Feare, glew'd many Friends to thee,
¶And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melts,
¶And whether flye the Gnats, but to the Sunne?
1290And who shines now, but Henries Enemies?
¶That Phaeton should checke thy fiery Steeds,
¶Thy burning Carre neuer had scorch'd the earth.
1295Or as thy Father, and his Father did,
¶Giuing no ground vnto the house of Yorke,
¶They neuer then had sprung like Sommer Flyes:
¶Hed left no mourning Widdowes for our death,
1300And thou this day, had'st kept thy Chaire in peace.
¶For what doth cherrish Weeds, but gentle ayre?
¶And what makes Robbers bold, but too much lenity?
¶No way to flye, nor strength to hold out flight:
¶For at their hands I haue deseru'd no pitty.
¶The ayre hath got into my deadly Wounds,
¶And much effuse of blood, doth make me faint:
¶Come Yorke, and Richard, Warwicke, and the rest,
¶
Alarum & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, and
¶Soldiers, Montague, & Clarence.
¶And smooth the frownes of War, with peacefull lookes:
1315Some Troopes pursue the bloody-minded Queene,
¶That led calme Henry, though he were a King,
¶As doth a Saile, fill'd with a fretting Gust
¶But thinke you (Lords) that Clifford fled with them?
¶(For though before his face I speake the words)
¶Your Brother Richard markt him for the Graue.
Clifford grones
1325A deadly grone, like life and deaths departing.
¶See who it is.
¶Ed. And now the Battailes ended,
¶If Friend or Foe, let him be gently vsed.
¶Rich. Reuoke that doome of mercy, for 'tis Clifford,
1330Who not contented that he lopp'd the Branch
¶In hewing Rutland, when his leaues put forth,
¶But set his murth'ring knife vnto the Roote,
¶I meane our Princely Father, Duke of Yorke.
¶Your Fathers head, which Clifford placed there:
1340That nothing sung but death, to vs and ours:
1345Darke cloudy death ore-shades his beames of life,
¶'Tis but his policy to counterfet,
1350Which in the time of death he gaue our Father.
¶Vex him with eager Words.
¶ Cla. Where's Captaine Margaret, to fence you now?
1360War. They mocke thee Clifford,
¶Sweare as thou was't wont.
¶ Ric. What, not an Oath? Nay then the world go's hard
¶When Clifford cannot spare his Friends an oath:
¶I know by that he's dead, and by my Soule,
1365If this right hand would buy two houres life,
¶That I (in all despight) might rayle at him,
1370War. I, but he's dead. Of with the Traitors head,
¶And reare it in the place your Fathers stands.
¶And now to London with Triumphant march,
¶There to be crowned Englands Royall King:
¶From whence, shall Warwicke cut the Sea to France,
1375And aske the Ladie Bona for thy Queene:
¶And hauing France thy Friend, thou shalt not dread
¶For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
1380Yet looke to haue them buz to offend thine eares:
1385For in thy shoulder do I builde my Seate;
¶And neuer will I vndertake the thing
¶Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,
¶And George of Clarence; Warwicke as our Selfe,
¶For Glosters Dukedome is too ominous.
¶Richard, be Duke of Gloster: Now to London,
Exeunt
¶
Enter Sinklo, and Humfrey, with Crosse-bowes
¶in their hands.
¶For through this Laund anon the Deere will come,
1400And in this couert will we make our Stand,
¶Culling the principall of all the Deere.
¶Ile tell thee what befell me on a day,
1410
Enter the King with a Prayer booke.
¶No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine,
¶Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee,
1415Thy Balme washt off, wherewith thou was Annointed:
¶No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
¶For how can I helpe them, and not my selfe?
¶This is the quondam King; Let's seize vpon him.
¶Hum. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him.
1425Sink. Forbeare a-while, wee'l heare a little more.
¶ Hen. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid:
¶And (as I heare) the great Commanding Warwicke
¶I: thither gone, to craue the French Kings Sister
¶To wife for Edward. If this newes be true,
1430Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but lost:
¶For Warwicke is a subtle Orator:
¶And Lewis a Prince soone wonne with mouing words:
¶By this account then, Margaret may winne him,
¶For she's a woman to be pittied much:
¶Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart:
¶The Tyger will be milde, whiles she doth mourne;
¶And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
1440I, but shee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue:
¶Shee on his left side, crauing ayde for Henrie;
¶He on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
¶Shee Weepes, and sayes, her Henry is depos'd:
¶Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, smooths the Wrong,
¶Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
¶And in conclusion winnes the King from her,
¶O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore soule)
¶And men may talke of Kings, and why not I?
¶Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne?
1460King. My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head:
¶Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:
¶Nor to be seene: my Crowne, is call'd Content,
¶A Crowne it is, that sildome Kings enioy.
¶Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content,
1465Your Crowne Content, and you, must be contented
¶To go along with vs. For (as we thinke)
¶You are the king King Edward hath depos'd:
¶Will apprehend you, as his Enemie.
¶ King. Where did you dwell when I was K. of England?
¶ Hum. Heere in this Country, where we now remaine.
¶King. I was annointed King at nine monthes old,
1475My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings:
¶And you were sworne true Subiects vnto me:
¶And tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes?
¶ Sin. No, for we were Subiects, but while you wer king
¶King. Why? Am I dead? Do I not breath a Man?
¶Looke, as I blow this Feather from my Face,
¶And as the Ayre blowes it to me againe,
¶Obeying with my winde when I do blow,
¶And yeelding to another, when it blowes,
1485Commanded alwayes by the greater gust:
¶But do not breake your Oathes, for of that sinne,
¶My milde intreatie shall not make you guiltie.
¶Go where you will, the king shall be commanded,
1490And be you kings, command, and Ile obey.
¶Sinklo. We are true Subiects to the king,
¶King Edward.
¶King. So would you be againe to Henrie,
¶If he were seated as king Edward is.
1495Sinklo. We charge you in Gods name & the Kings,
¶To go with vs vnto the Officers.
¶ King. In Gods name lead, your Kings name be obeyd,
¶And what God will, that let your King performe.
¶And what he will, I humbly yeeld vnto.
Exeunt
1500
Enter K. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray.
¶His Land then seiz'd on by the Conqueror,
1505Which wee in Iustice cannot well deny,
¶The worthy Gentleman did lose his Life.
¶It were dishonor to deny it her.
¶I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt,
¶Before the King will graunt her humble suit.
¶ Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes
1515the winde?
¶Rich. Silence.
¶And come some other time to know our minde.
¶Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay:
¶Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands,
¶Fight closer, or good faith you'le catch a Blow.
¶Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages.
¶me.
¶Clarence. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her.
1530Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two.
¶Lands.
1535Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then.
¶ King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes
¶wit.
¶ Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue,
¶Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch.
1540 King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your
¶Children?
¶ King. And would you not doe much to doe them
¶good?
¶harme.
¶good.
¶King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone.
1555Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it.
¶mands.
¶ Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the
1560Marble.
¶Taske?
¶thee.
¶Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege.
¶ Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,
1575That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts.
¶ Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did.
¶King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde.
¶Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue
¶King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee.
¶Lands.
¶But mightie Lord, this merry inclination
¶Browes.
¶dome.
1600Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable,
¶All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie,
¶One way, or other, shee is for a King,
¶Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene?
¶But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne.
¶I speake no more then what my Soule intends,
1610And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue.
¶Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto:
¶I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,
¶And yet too good to be your Concubine.
¶King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene.
¶you Father.
¶King. No more, then when my Daughters
¶Call thee Mother.
1620And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,
¶Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing,
¶To be the Father vnto many Sonnes:
¶had.
¶sad.
¶her.
¶Clarence. To who, my Lord?
¶
Enter a Noble man.
1640Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,
¶And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate.
¶King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower:
¶And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him,
1645Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.
¶
Exeunt._
¶
Manet Richard.
¶Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
1650That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring,
¶And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me,
¶The lustfull Edwards Title buryed,
¶Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward,
¶To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe:
¶A cold premeditation for my purpose.
¶Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie,
¶Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie,
¶Wishing his foot were equall with his eye,
¶And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence,
¶Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way:
1665And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it,
¶My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much,
1670Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard:
¶What other Pleasure can the World affoord?
¶Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe,
¶And decke my Body in gay Ornaments,
¶And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes.
1675Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely,
¶Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes.
¶Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe:
¶Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe,
1680To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub,
¶To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back,
¶Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body;
¶To dis-proportion me in euery part:
1685Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe,
¶And am I then a man to be belou'd?
¶Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me,
1690But to command, to check, to o're-beare such,
¶Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne,
¶And whiles I liue, t'account this World but Hell,
¶Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head,
1695Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne.
¶And yet I know not how to get the Crowne,
¶For many Liues stand betweene me and home:
¶And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood,
¶That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes,
1700Seeking a way, and straying from the way,
¶Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre,
¶But toyling desperately to finde it out,
¶And from that torment I will free my selfe,
1705Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe.
¶And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart,
¶And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares,
¶And frame my Face to all occasions.
1710Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall,
¶Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor,
¶And like a Synon, take another Troy.
1715I can adde Colours to the Camelion,
¶Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages,
¶And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole.
¶Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne?
¶Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe.
Exit.
1720
Flourish.
¶
Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his
¶
Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.
1725Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret,
¶Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State,
¶Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margaret
¶Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes:
¶But now mischance hath trod my Title downe,
¶And with dis-honor layd me on the ground,
¶Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune,
1735And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe.
¶deepe despaire?
¶And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares.
¶Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake,
¶Ouer all mischance.
1745Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe,
¶It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe.
¶Reuiue my drooping thoughts,
1750Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis,
¶Is, of a King, become a banisht man,
¶And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne;
¶While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke,
1755Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat
¶Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King.
¶This is the cause that I, poore Margaret,
¶With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire,
¶Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde:
1760And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done.
¶Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe:
¶Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led,
1765Lewis. Renowned Queene,
¶With patience calme the Storme,
¶While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off.
¶Foe.
¶
Enter Warwicke.
1775sence?
¶Friend.
¶ Lewis. Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings thee
¶to France?
Hee descends._ Shee ariseth._
¶For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde.
¶Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
¶My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend,
¶And then to craue a League of Amitie:
¶And lastly, to confirme that Amitie
¶With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to graunt
¶That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sister,
1790To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage.
¶Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done.
¶In our Kings behalfe,
¶I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor,
¶Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares,
¶Hath plac'd thy Beauties Image, and thy Vertue.
1800Before you answer Warwicke. His demand
¶Springs not from Edwards well-meant honest Loue,
¶For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home,
¶That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead,
¶Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne.
¶Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and Mariage
¶Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honor:
¶Warw. Iniurious Margaret.
¶Edw. And why not Queene?
1815And thou no more art Prince, then shee is Queene.
¶And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
1820And after that wise Prince, Henry the Fift,
¶You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath lost
1825All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten:
¶But for the rest: you tell a Pedigree
¶To make prescription for a Kingdomes worth.
¶Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer fence the right,
¶Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree?
1835For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King.
¶My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere
¶Was done to death? and more then so, my Father,
¶Euen in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yeeres,
1840When Nature brought him to the doore of Death?
¶No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme,
¶Lewis. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,
¶While I vse further conference with Warwicke.
¶
They stand aloofe.
¶witch him not.
¶Is Edward your true King? for I were loth
¶To linke with him, that were not lawfull chosen.
¶nor.
1855Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye?
¶Warw. The more, that Henry was vnfortunate.
¶Tell me for truth, the measure of his Loue
¶Vnto our Sister Bona.
¶That this his Loue was an externall Plant,
¶Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground,
1865The Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne,
¶Exempt from Enuy, but not from Disdaine,
¶When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted,
¶Mine eare hath tempted iudgement to desire.
¶Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus:
1875And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne,
¶Touching the Ioynture that your King must make,
¶Which with her Dowrie shall be counter-poys'd:
¶Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice,
¶By this alliance to make void my suit:
¶Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend.
1885But if your Title to the Crowne be weake,
¶Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd
¶From giuing ayde, which late I promised.
1890That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld.
¶Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lose.
¶And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene)
¶You haue a Father able to maintaine you,
1895And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France.
¶Proud setter vp, and puller downe of Kings,
¶I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares
¶(Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold
¶
Post blowing a horne Within.
¶
Enter the Poste.
To Lewis.
1910From whom, I know not.
¶
They all reade their Letters.
¶Smiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his.
1915netled. I hope, all's for the best.
¶Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes?
¶And yours, faire Queene.
1920Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey?
¶And now to sooth your Forgery, and his,
¶Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience?
¶Is this th' Alliance that he seekes with France?
¶This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honesty.
¶That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards;
1930No more my King, for he dishonors me,
¶Did I forget, that by the House of Yorke
¶My Father came vntimely to his death?
1935Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne?
¶Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right?
¶And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame?
¶And to repaire my Honor lost for him,
1940I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry.
¶And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour:
¶I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
¶And replant Henry in his former state.
1945Mar. Warwicke,
¶These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue,
¶And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults,
¶And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend.
¶War. So much his Friend, I, his vnfained Friend,
¶Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast,
¶And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre.
1955And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,
¶Hee's very likely now to fall from him,
¶For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor,
¶War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours.
1965Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets.
¶You shall haue ayde.
¶Mar. Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once.
¶To reuell it with him, and his new Bride.
1975I weare the Willow Garland for his sake.
¶And I am ready to put Armor on.
¶ War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
¶And therefore Ile vn-Crowne him, er't be long.
1980There's thy reward, be gone.
Exit Post.
¶Lew. But Warwicke,
¶Thou and Oxford, with fiue thousand men
¶Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt:
¶What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty?
¶That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree,
1990Ile ioyne mine eldest daughter, and my Ioy,
¶To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands.
¶ Mar. Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motion.
¶Sonne Edward, she is Faire and Vertuous,
¶Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke,
1995And with thy hand, thy faith irreuocable,
¶That onely Warwickes daughter shall be thine.
¶And heere to pledge my Vow, I giue my hand.
¶
He giues his hand to Warw.
¶And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admirall
¶Shall waft them ouer with our Royall Fleete.
¶I long till Edward fall by Warres mischance,
¶For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.
¶But I returne his sworne and mortall Foe:
¶Matter of Marriage was the charge he gaue me,
¶I was the Cheefe that rais'd him to the Crowne,
¶And Ile be Cheefe to bring him downe againe:
¶Not that I pitty Henries misery,
2015But seeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery.
Exit.
¶
Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerset, and
¶Mountague.
¶ Rich. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you
¶Of this new Marriage with the Lady Gray?
2020Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice?
¶Cla. Alas, you know, tis farre from hence to France,
¶How could he stay till Warwicke made returne?
¶ Som. My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes the
¶King.
2025
Flourish.
¶
Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Staf-
2030Clarence. I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke.
¶King. Now Brother of Clarence,
¶How like you our Choyce,
¶Clarence. As well as Lewis of France,
2035Or the Earle of Warwicke,
¶Which are so weake of courage, and in iudgement,
¶That they'le take no offence at our abuse.
¶They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward,
2040Your King and Warwickes, and must haue my will.
¶King. Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too?
¶Rich. Not I: no:
¶Whom God hath ioyn'd together:
¶I, and 'twere pittie, to sunder them,
¶That yoake so well together.
¶Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene?
¶And you too, Somerset, and Mountague,
¶Speake freely what you thinke.
¶Clarence. Then this is mine opinion:
2055That King Lewis becomes your Enemie,
¶For mocking him about the Marriage
¶Of the Lady Bona.
¶ Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge,
¶Is now dis-honored by this new Marriage.
2060King. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd,
¶Would more haue strength'ned this our Commonwealth
¶Let vs be back'd with God, and with the Seas,
2070Which he hath giu'n for fence impregnable,
¶And with their helpes, onely defend our selues:
¶To haue the Heire of the Lord Hungerford.
2075King. I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt,
¶ Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well,
¶To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales
¶Vnto the Brother of your louing Bride;
2080Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence:
¶But in your Bride you burie Brotherhood.
¶Of the Lord Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne,
2085King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife
¶That thou art malecontent? I will prouide thee.
¶You shew'd your iudgement:
2090To play the Broker in mine owne behalfe;
¶And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you.
¶King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King,
¶And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will.
2095To rayse my State to Title of a Queene,
¶That I was not ignoble of Descent,
¶And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune.
¶But as this Title honors me and mine,
¶Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with sorrow.
¶ King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes:
¶What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee,
¶So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
2105And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey?
¶Nay, whom they shall obey, and loue thee too,
¶Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe,
¶And they shall feele the vengeance of my wrath.
¶
Enter a Poste.
¶from France?
¶ Post. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words,
¶Dare not relate.
¶King. Goe too, wee pardon thee:
¶Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words,
2120What answer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters?
¶To reuell it with him, and his new Bride.
¶But what said Lady Bona to my Marriage?
¶Tell him, in hope hee'le proue a Widower shortly,
¶Ile weare the Willow Garland for his sake.
¶She had the wrong. But what said Henries Queene?
¶For I haue heard, that she was there in place.
¶My mourning Weedes are done,
2135And I am readie to put Armour on.
2140Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
¶And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long.
¶Well, I will arme me, being thus fore-warn'd:
2145But say, is Warwicke friends with Margaret?
¶Post. I, gracious Soueraigne,
¶That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwicks Daughter.
¶Clarence. Belike, the elder;
2150Clarence will haue the younger.
¶For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter,
¶That though I want a Kingdome, yet in Marriage
¶I may not proue inferior to your selfe.
2155You that loue me, and Warwicke, follow me.
¶
Exit Clarence, and Somerset followes.
¶Rich. Not I:
¶My thoughts ayme at a further matter:
¶I stay not for the loue of Edward, but the Crowne.
¶Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalfe
¶Goe leuie men, and make prepare for Warre;
2165They are alreadie, or quickly will be landed:
¶
Exeunt Pembrooke and Stafford.
¶But ere I goe, Hastings and Mountague
2170Are neere to Warwicke, by bloud, and by allyance:
¶Tell me, if you loue Warwicke more then me;
¶If it be so, then both depart to him:
¶I rather wish you foes, then hollow friends.
¶But if you minde to hold your true obedience,
¶ Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as hee proues
¶true.
¶Now therefore let vs hence, and lose no howre,
¶Till wee meet Warwicke, with his forreine powre.
2185
Exeunt._
¶
Enter Warwicke and Oxford in England,
¶with French Souldiors.
¶The common people by numbers swarme to vs.
2190
Enter Clarence and Somerset.
¶Speake suddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends?
¶Clar. Feare not that, my Lord.
¶ Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke,
2195And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardize,
¶Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue;
¶Else might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother,
¶Were but a fained friend to our proceedings:
¶And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture,
¶His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about,
¶And but attended by a simple Guard,
¶Our Scouts haue found the aduenture very easie:
¶And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds;
2210So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle,
¶At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard,
¶For I intend but onely to surprize him.
¶You that will follow me to this attempt,
2215Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.
¶
They all cry, Henry.
¶For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.
¶
Exeunt._
2220
Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.
¶2. Watch. What, will he not to Bed?
2225Neuer to lye and take his naturall Rest,
¶If Warwicke be so neere as men report.
2230That with the King here resteth in his Tent?
¶friend.
¶That his chiefe followers lodge in Townes about him,
2235While he himselfe keepes in the cold field?
¶rous.
¶I like it better then a dangerous honor.
¶'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.
¶sage.
2245But to defend his Person from Night-foes?
¶
Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset,
¶and French Souldiors, silent all.
¶Courage my Masters: Honor now, or neuer:
2250But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
¶1. Watch. Who goes there?
¶
Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke,
¶
The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding.
¶
Enter Warwicke, Somerset, and the rest, bringing the King
2260Som. What are they that flye there?
¶the Duke.
¶K.Edw. The Duke?
¶Why Warwicke, when wee parted,
2265Thou call'dst me King.
¶Then I degraded you from being King,
¶And come now to create you Duke of Yorke.
2270Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome,
¶Nor how to be contented with one Wife,
¶Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly,
¶Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare,
¶K.Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,
¶Art thou here too?
2280Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices,
¶Edward will alwayes beare himselfe as King:
¶Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my State,
¶ Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,
2285
Takes off his Crowne.
¶And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow.
¶See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'd
2290Vnto my Brother Arch-Bishop of Yorke:
¶When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes,
¶Ile follow you, and tell what answer
¶Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.
¶Now for a-while farewell good Duke of Yorke.
2295
They leade him out forcibly.
Exeunt.
¶Oxf. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do,
¶But march to London with our Soldiers?
¶To free King Henry from imprisonment,
exit.
¶
Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.
2305Gray. Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learne
¶What late misfortune is befalne King Edward?
¶Against Warwicke?
¶Either betrayd by falshood of his Guard,
¶Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares:
¶And as I further haue to vnderstand,
2315Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke,
¶Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe.
¶Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may,
¶Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day.
¶And I the rather waine me from dispaire
¶For loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe:
2325I, I, for this I draw in many a teare,
¶King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne.
¶Riu. But Madam,
2330Where is Warwicke then become?
¶ Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
¶To set the Crowne once more on Henries head,
¶But to preuent the Tyrants violence,
2335(For trust not him that hath once broken Faith)
¶Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary,
¶Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye,
2340If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.
exeunt.
¶
Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William
¶Stanley.
¶Leaue off to wonder why I drew you hither,
2345Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke.
¶He hath good vsage, and great liberty,
¶And often but attended with weake guard,
¶I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes,
¶That if about this houre he make this way,
¶Vnder the colour of his vsuall game,
2355To set him free from his Captiuitie.
¶
Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman
¶with him.
¶Huntsman. This way my Lord,
¶For this way lies the Game.
2360King Edw. Nay this way man,
¶Hast. To Lyn my Lord,
¶And shipt from thence to Flanders.
¶Wilt thou go along?
2375Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo.
¶Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,
exeunt.
¶
Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke,
¶K.Hen. M. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends
¶And turn'd my captiue state to libertie,
2385My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes,
¶At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?
¶ Lieu. Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains
¶But, if an humble prayer may preuaile,
¶I then craue pardon of your Maiestie.
¶Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts,
¶And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee,
¶He was the Author, thou the Instrument.
2400Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight,
¶By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me,
¶Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne,
2405I here resigne my Gouernment to thee,
¶For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
¶By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice,
2410For few men rightly temper with the Starres:
¶Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace,
¶For chusing me, when Clarence is in place.
¶To whom the Heau'ns in thy Natiuitie,
2415Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne,
¶As likely to be blest in Peace and Warre:
¶And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent.
¶ King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands:
2420Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts,
¶I make you both Protectors of this Land,
¶While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life,
¶And in deuotion spend my latter dayes,
¶will?
¶Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadow
¶To Henries Body, and supply his place;
¶I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment,
¶While he enioyes the Honor, and his ease.
2435And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,
¶Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor,
¶And all his Lands and Goods confiscate.
¶Let me entreat (for I command no more)
¶That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward,
¶For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare,
2445My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd.
¶speede.
¶mond.
¶King. Come hither, Englands Hope:
¶
Layes his Hand on his Head.
2455To my diuining thoughts,
¶His Lookes are full of peacefull Maiestie,
¶His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne,
¶His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfe
¶Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee
¶Must helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee.
¶
Enter a Poste.
¶Warw. What newes, my friend?
¶And fled (as hee heares since) to Burgundie.
¶And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
¶For Hunting was his dayly Exercise.
¶But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouide
Exeunt.
¶
Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.
¶Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards:
¶And we shall haue more Warres befor't be long.
2480As Henries late presaging Prophecie
¶Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond:
¶So doth my heart mis-giue me, in these Conflicts,
¶What may befall him, to his harme and ours.
¶Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst,
2485Forthwith wee'le send him hence to Brittanie,
2490Come therefore, let's about it speedily.
Exeunt._
¶
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings,
¶and Souldiers.
¶Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends,
¶My wained state, for Henries Regall Crowne.
¶Well haue we pass'd, and now re-pass'd the Seas,
¶And brought desired helpe from Burgundie.
¶What then remaines, we being thus arriu'd
2500From Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke,
¶But that we enter, as into our Dukedome?
¶Brother, I like not this.
2505Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within.
¶By faire or foule meanes we must enter in,
¶For hither will our friends repaire to vs.
2510them.
¶
Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke,
¶and his Brethren.
¶Maior. My Lords,
¶We were fore-warned of your comming,
¶For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry.
¶Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of Yorke.
¶ Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for no
¶ Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome,
¶As being well content with that alone.
¶Hee'le soone finde meanes to make the Body follow.
¶Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends.
¶
He descends._
2530 Hast. The good old man would faine that all were wel,
¶So 'twere not long of him: but being entred,
¶Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason.
¶
Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.
¶But in the Night, or in the time of Warre.
¶What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,
¶
Takes his Keyes._
¶For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee,
2540And all those friends, that deine to follow mee.
¶
March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme
¶and Souldiers.
¶Rich. Brother, this is Sir Iohn Mountgomerie,
2545 Edw. Welcome Sir Iohn: but why come you in
¶Armes?
¶As euery loyall Subiect ought to doe.
¶Edw. Thankes good Mountgomerie:
2550But we now forget our Title to the Crowne,
¶And onely clayme our Dukedome,
¶Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe,
¶I came to serue a King, and not a Duke:
2555Drummer strike vp, and let vs march away.
¶
The Drumme begins to march.
¶By what safe meanes the Crowne may be recouer'd.
¶ Mount. What talke you of debating? in few words,
2560If you'le not here proclaime your selfe our King,
¶Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be gone,
¶To keepe them back, that come to succour you.
¶Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title?
2565points?
¶Then wee'le make our Clayme:
¶Till then, 'tis wisdome to conceale our meaning.
2570rule.
¶Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand,
¶The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
¶Edw. Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right,
2575And Henry but vsurpes the Diademe.
¶And now will I be Edwards Champion.
¶Come, fellow Souldior, make thou proclamation.
2580
Flourish. Sound.
¶ Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of
¶England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c.
¶By this I challenge him to single fight.
2585
Throwes downe his Gauntlet.
¶All. Long liue Edward the Fourth.
¶Edw. Thankes braue Mountgomery,
¶And thankes vnto you all:
2590Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Yorke:
¶Aboue the Border of this Horizon,
¶Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates;
¶For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier.
2595Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beseemes thee,
¶To flatter Henry, and forsake thy Brother?
¶Yet as wee may, wee'le meet both thee and Warwicke.
¶Come on braue Souldiors: doubt not of the Day,
¶And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay.
Exeunt.
2600
Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague,
¶Clarence, Oxford, and Somerset.
¶With hastie Germanes, and blunt Hollanders,
¶Hath pass'd in safetie through the Narrow Seas,
2605And with his troupes doth march amaine to London,
¶And many giddie people flock to him.
¶King. Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe.
¶Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out,
¶Which being suffer'd, Riuers cannot quench.
¶Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre,
¶Shalt stirre vp in Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent,
¶The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee.
2615Thou Brother Mountague, in Buckingham,
¶Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st.
¶And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well belou'd,
2620My Soueraigne, with the louing Citizens,
¶Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean,
¶Or modest Dyan, circled with her Nymphs,
¶Shall rest in London, till we come to him:
¶Faire Lords take leaue, and stand not to reply.
2625Farewell my Soueraigne.
¶King. Farewell my Hector, and my Troyes true hope.
¶King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
¶King. Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague,
¶And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
¶
Exeunt._
¶Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field,
¶Should not be able to encounter mine.
2640 King. That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame:
¶I haue not stopt mine eares to their demands,
¶My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds,
2645My mercie dry'd their water-flowing teares.
¶I haue not been desirous of their wealth,
¶Nor forward of reuenge, though they much err'd.
¶Then why should they loue Edward more then me?
2650No Exeter, these Graces challenge Grace:
¶And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe,
¶The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.
¶
Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.
¶ Exet. Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are
2655these?
¶
Enter Edward and his Souldiers.
¶And once againe proclaime vs King of England.
¶You are the Fount, that makes small Brookes to flow,
¶Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.
¶
Exit with King Henry._
¶And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course,
2665Where peremptorie Warwicke now remaines:
¶Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd-for Hay.
¶Rich. Away betimes, before his forces ioyne,
¶And take the great-growne Traytor vnawares:
2670Braue Warriors, march amaine towards Couentry.
¶
Exeunt._
¶
Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two
2675How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow?
¶War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague?
¶Where is the Post that came from Mountague?
2680
Enter Someruile.
¶Someru. At Southam I did leaue him with his forces,
¶And doe expect him here some two howres hence.
2685War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme.
¶Someru. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes:
¶The Drum your Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke.
2690
March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard,
¶and Souldiers.
¶That we could heare no newes of his repayre.
¶Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates,
¶Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee,
¶Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy,
¶War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
¶Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,
¶War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift?
¶Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue,
¶ther.
¶Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift.
¶And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe,
2715And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subiect.
¶And gallant Warwicke, doe but answer this,
¶What is the Body, when the Head is off?
¶The King was slyly finger'd from the Deck:
¶You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace,
¶And tenne to one you'le meet him in the Tower.
2725Rich. Come Warwicke,
¶Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe:
¶War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
¶And with the other, fling it at thy face,
¶Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend,
¶This Hand, fast wound about thy coale-black hayre,
¶Shall, whiles thy Head is warme, and new cut off,
2735Write in the dust this Sentence with thy blood,
¶Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more.
¶
Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.
2740Rich. The Gates are open, let vs enter too.
¶Stand we in good array: for they no doubt
¶If not, the Citie being but of small defence,
2745Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors in the same.
¶War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe.
¶
Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.
2750Euen with the dearest blood your bodies beare.
¶Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Victorie,
¶
Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.
¶And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold.
¶
Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.
2760Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile:
¶With whom, in vpright zeale to right, preuailes
¶More then the nature of a Brothers Loue.
¶Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call.
¶ Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this meanes?
2765Looke here, I throw my infamie at thee:
¶I will not ruinate my Fathers House,
¶Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together,
2770To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre
¶Against his Brother, and his lawfull King.
¶Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath:
¶To keepe that Oath, were more impietie,
¶Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter.
¶That to deserue well at my Brothers hands,
¶I here proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe:
¶(As I will meet thee, if thou stirre abroad)
2780To plague thee, for thy foule mis-leading me.
¶And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee,
¶And to my Brother turne my blushing Cheekes.
¶Pardon me Edward, I will make amends:
¶And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults,
2785For I will henceforth be no more vnconstant.
¶ Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd,
¶Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like.
2790Edw. What Warwicke,
¶Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight?
¶Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?
¶Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
¶I will away towards Barnet presently,
2795And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st.
¶ Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way:
¶Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie.
Exeunt.
¶
March. Warwicke and his companie followes.
¶
Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing
2800forth Warwicke wounded.
¶Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare,
¶For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all.
¶That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie.
2805
Exit._
¶Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe,
¶And tell me who is Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke?
2810That I must yeeld my body to the Earth,
¶And by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
¶Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,
¶And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde.
¶These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle,
¶Haue beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne,
2820The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood,
¶Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers:
¶For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue?
2825My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had,
¶Euen now forsake me; and of all my Lands,
¶Is nothing left me, but my bodies length.
¶Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust?
¶And liue we how we can, yet dye we must.
2830
Enter Oxford and Somerset.
¶Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are,
¶Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye.
2835Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
¶If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
¶And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.
¶Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood,
2840That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake.
¶Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead.
¶And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother.
¶Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault,
¶I well might heare, deliuered with a groane,
¶Oh farewell Warwicke.
¶For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen.
¶ Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.
¶
Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt._
2855
Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with
¶Richard, Clarence, and the rest.
¶And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie:
¶That will encounter with our glorious Sunne,
¶I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene
¶Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast,
2865And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs.
¶And blow it to the Source from whence it came,
¶Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp,
¶For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme.
¶And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her:
¶Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
¶King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends,
¶We hauing now the best at Barnet field,
¶And as we march, our strength will be augmented:
¶In euery Countie as we goe along,
2880Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.
Exeunt.
¶
Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young
¶What though the Mast be now blowne ouer-boord,
¶The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost,
¶And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood?
¶Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee
2890Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad,
¶With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea,
¶And giue more strength to that which hath too much,
¶Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock,
2895Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this.
¶Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that?
¶And Mountague our Top-Mast: what of him?
¶Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor?
¶The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
¶And though vnskilfull, why not Ned and I,
¶For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge?
¶We will not from the Helme, to sit and weepe,
¶From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack.
¶As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire.
¶What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit?
2910And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke?
¶All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke.
¶Say you can swim, alas 'tis but a while:
¶Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke,
¶That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
2920Why courage then, what cannot be auoided,
¶Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit,
2925And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes.
¶I speake not this, as doubting any here:
¶He should haue leaue to goe away betimes,
¶Least in our need he might infect another,
¶If any such be here, as God forbid,
¶Let him depart, before we neede his helpe.
¶And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame.
2935Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather
¶Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue,
¶To beare his Image, and renew his Glories.
¶Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day,
2940If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at.
¶ Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing
¶else.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
2945Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand,
¶Readie to fight: therefore be resolute.
¶ Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.
¶
Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard,
¶Clarence, and Souldiers.
¶Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp yet ere Night.
¶I need not adde more fuell to your fire,
¶For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out:
¶Giue signall to the fight, and to it Lords.
¶Ye see I drinke the water of my eye.
¶Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne
¶And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle.
¶You fight in Iustice: then in Gods Name, Lords,
¶Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.
¶
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence,
¶Oxford, Somerset.
¶Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles.
2975For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head.
¶Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake.
¶Oxf. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words.
¶
Exeunt._
¶ Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward,
¶Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life?
¶Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes.
2985
Enter the Prince.
¶What? can so young a Thorne begin to prick?
¶For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects,
2990And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
¶ Prince. Speake like a Subiect, prowd ambitious Yorke.
¶Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth,
¶Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word.
3005rather.
¶ Edw. Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your tongue.
¶Clar. Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert.
¶Prince. I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull:
¶Lasciuious Edward, and thou periur'd George,
3010And thou mis-shapen Dicke, I tell ye all,
¶I am your better, Traytors as ye are,
¶
Stabs him._
¶
Rich. stabs him._
¶Clar. And ther's for twitting me with periurie.
¶
Clar. stabs him._
¶Qu. Oh, kill me too.
¶ Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much.
¶words.
3025recouerie.
¶Ile hence to London on a serious matter,
¶Cla. What? what?
¶Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
3035If this foule deed were by, to equall it.
¶He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe,
¶And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe.
¶What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it?
¶Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes,
¶How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:
¶You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,
3045But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,
¶Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off.
¶King. Away with her, go beare her hence perforce.
3050Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:
¶What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou.
¶'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity.
¶What wilt yu not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard?
¶Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
¶Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed:
3060Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe.
¶Qu. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.
¶
Exit Queene._
¶Ed. Where's Richard gone.
¶To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.
¶With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,
¶By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.
Exit.
¶
Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant
¶on the Walles.
3075hard?
¶Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better:
¶'Good Gloster, and good Deuill, were alike,
¶And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord.
¶And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.
¶The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer,
3090Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,
¶Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.
¶That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,
¶And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd.
3095Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus,
¶Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course,
¶Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea
3100Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,
¶My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point,
¶Then can my eares that Tragicke History.
¶But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?
¶If murthering Innocents be Executing,
¶Why then thou art an Executioner.
3110Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:
¶And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,
¶And many an Orphans water-standing-eye,
3115Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,
¶Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,
¶Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.
¶The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,
¶Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,
3125To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe,
¶Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree.
¶Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,
¶And if the rest be true, which I haue heard,
3130Thou cam'st----
¶Rich. Ile heare no more:
3135O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee.
Dyes.
¶Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted.
¶See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death.
¶If any sparke of Life be yet remaining,
¶
Stabs him againe._
¶I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare,
3145Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of:
¶For I haue often heard my Mother say,
¶I came into the world with my Legges forward.
3150The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de
3155Let Hell make crook'd my Minde to answer it.
¶I haue no Brother, I am like no Brother:
¶And this word (Loue) which Gray-beards call Diuine,
¶Be resident in men like one another,
¶And not in me: I am my selfe alone.
3160Clarence beware, thou keept'st me from the Light,
¶But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
¶That Edward shall be fearefull of his life,
¶And then to purge his feare, Ile be thy death.
3165King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone,
¶Clarence thy turne is next, and then the rest,
¶Ile throw thy body in another roome,
¶And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome.
Exit.
3170
Flourish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hastings,
¶Nurse, and Attendants.
¶Re-purchac'd with the Blood of Enemies:
¶What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumnes Corne,
3175Haue we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride?
¶Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renowne,
¶For hardy and vndoubted Champions:
¶Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Sonne,
¶And two Northumberlands: two brauer men,
¶With them, the two braue Beares, Warwick & Montague,
¶That in their Chaines fetter'd the Kingly Lyon,
¶And made the Forrest tremble when they roar'd.
3185And made our Footstoole of Security.
¶Yong Ned, for thee, thine Vnckles, and my selfe,
¶Haue in our Armors watcht the Winters night,
¶Went all afoote in Summers scalding heate,
¶And of our Labours thou shalt reape the gaine.
¶For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
¶Worke thou the way, and that shalt execute.
¶And kis your Princely Nephew Brothers both.
3200I Seale vpon the lips of this sweet Babe.
¶ Cla. Thanke Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks.
3205And cried all haile, when as he meant all harme.
¶Hauing my Countries peace, and Brothers loues.
¶ Cla. What will your Grace haue done with Margaret,
¶Reynard her Father, to the King of France
3210Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ierusalem,
¶ King. Away with her, and waft her hence to France:
3215Such as befits the pleasure of the Court.
¶Sound Drums and Trumpets, farwell sowre annoy,
¶For heere I hope begins our lasting ioy.
Exeunt omnes
¶
FINIS.