ACT I
SCENE I. London. The Parliament-house.
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[Alarum. Enter YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers]
Warwick. Neither the king, nor he that loves him best, | 1.1.45
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, | 1.1.46
Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. | 1.1.47
I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares: | 1.1.48
Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. | 1.1.49
| [Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and the rest]
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Queen Margaret. Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced? | 1.1.233
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! | 1.1.234
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me; | 1.1.235
And given unto the house of York such head | 1.1.236
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. | 1.1.237
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, | 1.1.238
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre | 1.1.239
And creep into it far before thy time? | 1.1.240
Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais; | 1.1.241
Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; | 1.1.242
The duke is made protector of the realm; | 1.1.243
And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds | 1.1.244
The trembling lamb environed with wolves. | 1.1.245
Had I been there, which am a silly woman, | 1.1.246
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes | 1.1.247
Before I would have granted to that act. | 1.1.248
But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: | 1.1.249
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself | 1.1.250
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, | 1.1.251
Until that act of parliament be repeal'd | 1.1.252
Whereby my son is disinherited. | 1.1.253
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours | 1.1.254
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread; | 1.1.255
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace | 1.1.256
And utter ruin of the house of York. | 1.1.257
Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away; | 1.1.258
Our army is ready; come, we'll after them. | 1.1.259
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SCENE II. Sandal Castle.
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[Enter RICHARD, EDWARD, and MONTAGUE]
Richard. An oath is of no moment, being not took | 1.2.22
Before a true and lawful magistrate, | 1.2.23
That hath authority over him that swears: | 1.2.24
Henry had none, but did usurp the place; | 1.2.25
Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, | 1.2.26
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. | 1.2.27
Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think | 1.2.28
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; | 1.2.29
Within whose circuit is Elysium | 1.2.30
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. | 1.2.31
Why do we finger thus? I cannot rest | 1.2.32
Until the white rose that I wear be dyed | 1.2.33
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. | 1.2.34
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York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die. | 1.2.35
Brother, thou shalt to London presently, | 1.2.36
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. | 1.2.37
Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk, | 1.2.38
And tell him privily of our intent. | 1.2.39
You Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham, | 1.2.40
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: | 1.2.41
In them I trust; for they are soldiers, | 1.2.42
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. | 1.2.43
While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, | 1.2.44
But that I seek occasion how to rise, | 1.2.45
And yet the king not privy to my drift, | 1.2.46
Nor any of the house of Lancaster? | 1.2.47
[Enter a Messenger]
But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post? | 1.2.48
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SCENE III. Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield.
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[Alarums. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor]
SCENE IV. Another part of the field.
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[Alarum. Enter YORK]
York. The army of the queen hath got the field: | 1.4.1
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; | 1.4.2
And all my followers to the eager foe | 1.4.3
Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind | 1.4.4
Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. | 1.4.5
My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them: | 1.4.6
But this I know, they have demean'd themselves | 1.4.7
Like men born to renown by life or death. | 1.4.8
Three times did Richard make a lane to me. | 1.4.9
And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out!' | 1.4.10
And full as oft came Edward to my side, | 1.4.11
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt | 1.4.12
In blood of those that had encounter'd him: | 1.4.13
And when the hardiest warriors did retire, | 1.4.14
Richard cried 'Charge! and give no foot of ground!' | 1.4.15
And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb! | 1.4.16
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!' | 1.4.17
With this, we charged again: but, out, alas! | 1.4.18
We bodged again; as I have seen a swan | 1.4.19
With bootless labour swim against the tide | 1.4.20
And spend her strength with over-matching waves. | 1.4.21
[A short alarum within]
Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; | 1.4.22
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury: | 1.4.23
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury: | 1.4.24
The sands are number'd that make up my life; | 1.4.25
Here must I stay, and here my life must end. | 1.4.26
[Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, PRINCE EDWARD, and Soldiers]
Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, | 1.4.27
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage: | 1.4.28
I am your butt, and I abide your shot. | 1.4.29
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Queen Margaret. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, | 1.4.66
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here, | 1.4.67
That raught at mountains with outstretched arms, | 1.4.68
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. | 1.4.69
What! was it you that would be England's king? | 1.4.70
Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, | 1.4.71
And made a preachment of your high descent? | 1.4.72
Where are your mess of sons to back you now? | 1.4.73
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? | 1.4.74
And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, | 1.4.75
Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice | 1.4.76
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? | 1.4.77
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? | 1.4.78
Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood | 1.4.79
That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, | 1.4.80
Made issue from the bosom of the boy; | 1.4.81
And if thine eyes can water for his death, | 1.4.82
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. | 1.4.83
Alas poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, | 1.4.84
I should lament thy miserable state. | 1.4.85
I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. | 1.4.86
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails | 1.4.87
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? | 1.4.88
Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad; | 1.4.89
And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. | 1.4.90
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. | 1.4.91
Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport: | 1.4.92
York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. | 1.4.93
A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him: | 1.4.94
Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. | 1.4.95
[Putting a paper crown on his head]
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! | 1.4.96
Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, | 1.4.97
And this is he was his adopted heir. | 1.4.98
But how is it that great Plantagenet | 1.4.99
Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? | 1.4.100
As I bethink me, you should not be king | 1.4.101
Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. | 1.4.102
And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, | 1.4.103
And rob his temples of the diadem, | 1.4.104
Now in his life, against your holy oath? | 1.4.105
O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable! | 1.4.106
Off with the crown, and with the crown his head; | 1.4.107
And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. | 1.4.108
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York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, | 1.4.111
Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! | 1.4.112
How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex | 1.4.113
To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, | 1.4.114
Upon their woes whom fortune captivates! | 1.4.115
But that thy face is, vizard-like, unchanging, | 1.4.116
Made impudent with use of evil deeds, | 1.4.117
I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. | 1.4.118
To tell thee whence thou camest, of whom derived, | 1.4.119
Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. | 1.4.120
Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, | 1.4.121
Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem, | 1.4.122
Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. | 1.4.123
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? | 1.4.124
It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen, | 1.4.125
Unless the adage must be verified, | 1.4.126
That beggars mounted run their horse to death. | 1.4.127
'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; | 1.4.128
But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small: | 1.4.129
'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired; | 1.4.130
The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: | 1.4.131
'Tis government that makes them seem divine; | 1.4.132
The want thereof makes thee abominable: | 1.4.133
Thou art as opposite to every good | 1.4.134
As the Antipodes are unto us, | 1.4.135
Or as the south to the septentrion. | 1.4.136
O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide! | 1.4.137
How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, | 1.4.138
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, | 1.4.139
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? | 1.4.140
Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible; | 1.4.141
Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. | 1.4.142
Bids't thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: | 1.4.143
Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: | 1.4.144
For raging wind blows up incessant showers, | 1.4.145
And when the rage allays, the rain begins. | 1.4.146
These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies: | 1.4.147
And every drop cries vengeance for his death, | 1.4.148
'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false | 1.4.149
Frenchwoman. | 1.4.150
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York. That face of his the hungry cannibals | 1.4.153
Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: | 1.4.154
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, | 1.4.155
O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. | 1.4.156
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: | 1.4.157
This cloth thou dip'dst in blood of my sweet boy, | 1.4.158
And I with tears do wash the blood away. | 1.4.159
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: | 1.4.160
And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, | 1.4.161
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; | 1.4.162
Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, | 1.4.163
And say 'Alas, it was a piteous deed!' | 1.4.164
There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse; | 1.4.165
And in thy need such comfort come to thee | 1.4.166
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! | 1.4.167
Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world: | 1.4.168
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! | 1.4.169
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ACT II
SCENE I. A plain near Mortimer's Cross in Herefordshire.
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[A march. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and their power]
Messenger. Environed he was with many foes, | 2.1.50
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy | 2.1.51
Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. | 2.1.52
But Hercules himself must yield to odds; | 2.1.53
And many strokes, though with a little axe, | 2.1.54
Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. | 2.1.55
By many hands your father was subdued; | 2.1.56
But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm | 2.1.57
Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen, | 2.1.58
Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite, | 2.1.59
Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, | 2.1.60
The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks | 2.1.61
A napkin steeped in the harmless blood | 2.1.62
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: | 2.1.63
And after many scorns, many foul taunts, | 2.1.64
They took his head, and on the gates of York | 2.1.65
They set the same; and there it doth remain, | 2.1.66
The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. | 2.1.67
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Edward. Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, | 2.1.68
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. | 2.1.69
O Clifford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain | 2.1.70
The flower of Europe for his chivalry; | 2.1.71
And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, | 2.1.72
For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee. | 2.1.73
Now my soul's palace is become a prison: | 2.1.74
Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body | 2.1.75
Might in the ground be closed up in rest! | 2.1.76
For never henceforth shall I joy again, | 2.1.77
Never, O never shall I see more joy! | 2.1.78
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Warwick. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; | 2.1.104
And now, to add more measure to your woes, | 2.1.105
I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. | 2.1.106
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, | 2.1.107
Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, | 2.1.108
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, | 2.1.109
Were brought me of your loss and his depart. | 2.1.110
I, then in London keeper of the king, | 2.1.111
Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, | 2.1.112
And very well appointed, as I thought, | 2.1.113
March'd toward Saint Alban's to intercept the queen, | 2.1.114
Bearing the king in my behalf along; | 2.1.115
For by my scouts I was advertised | 2.1.116
That she was coming with a full intent | 2.1.117
To dash our late decree in parliament | 2.1.118
Touching King Henry's oath and your succession. | 2.1.119
Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban's met | 2.1.120
Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought: | 2.1.121
But whether 'twas the coldness of the king, | 2.1.122
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, | 2.1.123
That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen; | 2.1.124
Or whether 'twas report of her success; | 2.1.125
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, | 2.1.126
Who thunders to his captives blood and death, | 2.1.127
I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth, | 2.1.128
Their weapons like to lightning came and went; | 2.1.129
Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight, | 2.1.130
Or like an idle thresher with a flail, | 2.1.131
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. | 2.1.132
I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, | 2.1.133
With promise of high pay and great rewards: | 2.1.134
But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, | 2.1.135
And we in them no hope to win the day; | 2.1.136
So that we fled; the king unto the queen; | 2.1.137
Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself, | 2.1.138
In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you: | 2.1.139
For in the marches here we heard you were, | 2.1.140
Making another head to fight again. | 2.1.141
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Warwick. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; | 2.1.166
And therefore comes my brother Montague. | 2.1.167
Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, | 2.1.168
With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, | 2.1.169
And of their feather many more proud birds, | 2.1.170
Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. | 2.1.171
He swore consent to your succession, | 2.1.172
His oath enrolled in the parliament; | 2.1.173
And now to London all the crew are gone, | 2.1.174
To frustrate both his oath and what beside | 2.1.175
May make against the house of Lancaster. | 2.1.176
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: | 2.1.177
Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself, | 2.1.178
With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, | 2.1.179
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, | 2.1.180
Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, | 2.1.181
Why, Via! to London will we march amain, | 2.1.182
And once again bestride our foaming steeds, | 2.1.183
And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!' | 2.1.184
But never once again turn back and fly. | 2.1.185
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SCENE II. Before York.
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[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with drum and trumpets]
Clifford. My gracious liege, this too much lenity | 2.2.9
And harmful pity must be laid aside. | 2.2.10
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? | 2.2.11
Not to the beast that would usurp their den. | 2.2.12
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? | 2.2.13
Not his that spoils her young before her face. | 2.2.14
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? | 2.2.15
Not he that sets his foot upon her back. | 2.2.16
The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, | 2.2.17
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. | 2.2.18
Ambitious York doth level at thy crown, | 2.2.19
Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows: | 2.2.20
He, but a duke, would have his son a king, | 2.2.21
And raise his issue, like a loving sire; | 2.2.22
Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son, | 2.2.23
Didst yield consent to disinherit him, | 2.2.24
Which argued thee a most unloving father. | 2.2.25
Unreasonable creatures feed their young; | 2.2.26
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, | 2.2.27
Yet, in protection of their tender ones, | 2.2.28
Who hath not seen them, even with those wings | 2.2.29
Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, | 2.2.30
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, | 2.2.31
Offer their own lives in their young's defence? | 2.2.32
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! | 2.2.33
Were it not pity that this goodly boy | 2.2.34
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault, | 2.2.35
And long hereafter say unto his child, | 2.2.36
'What my great-grandfather and his grandsire got | 2.2.37
My careless father fondly gave away'? | 2.2.38
Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; | 2.2.39
And let his manly face, which promiseth | 2.2.40
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart | 2.2.41
To hold thine own and leave thine own with him. | 2.2.42
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Edward. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; | 2.2.87
I was adopted heir by his consent: | 2.2.88
Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, | 2.2.89
You, that are king, though he do wear the crown, | 2.2.90
Have caused him, by new act of parliament, | 2.2.91
To blot out me, and put his own son in. | 2.2.92
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Edward. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, | 2.2.144
To make this shameless callet know herself. | 2.2.145
Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, | 2.2.146
Although thy husband may be Menelaus; | 2.2.147
And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd | 2.2.148
By that false woman, as this king by thee. | 2.2.149
His father revell'd in the heart of France, | 2.2.150
And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop; | 2.2.151
And had he match'd according to his state, | 2.2.152
He might have kept that glory to this day; | 2.2.153
But when he took a beggar to his bed, | 2.2.154
And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day, | 2.2.155
Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, | 2.2.156
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, | 2.2.157
And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. | 2.2.158
For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride? | 2.2.159
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; | 2.2.160
And we, in pity of the gentle king, | 2.2.161
Had slipp'd our claim until another age. | 2.2.162
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SCENE III. A field of battle between Towton and Saxton, in
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Yorkshire.
[Alarum. Excursions. Enter WARWICK]
Richard. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? | 2.3.15
Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, | 2.3.16
Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; | 2.3.17
And in the very pangs of death he cried, | 2.3.18
Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, | 2.3.19
'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!' | 2.3.20
So, underneath the belly of their steeds, | 2.3.21
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, | 2.3.22
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. | 2.3.23
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Edward. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; | 2.3.34
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! | 2.3.35
And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, | 2.3.36
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, | 2.3.37
Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, | 2.3.38
Beseeching thee, if with they will it stands | 2.3.39
That to my foes this body must be prey, | 2.3.40
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, | 2.3.41
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! | 2.3.42
Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, | 2.3.43
Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth. | 2.3.44
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SCENE IV. Another part of the field.
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[Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD]
SCENE V. Another part of the field.
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[Alarum. Enter KING HENRY VI alone]
King Henry VI. This battle fares like to the morning's war, | 2.5.1
When dying clouds contend with growing light, | 2.5.2
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, | 2.5.3
Can neither call it perfect day nor night. | 2.5.4
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea | 2.5.5
Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; | 2.5.6
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea | 2.5.7
Forced to retire by fury of the wind: | 2.5.8
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; | 2.5.9
Now one the better, then another best; | 2.5.10
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, | 2.5.11
Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: | 2.5.12
So is the equal of this fell war. | 2.5.13
Here on this molehill will I sit me down. | 2.5.14
To whom God will, there be the victory! | 2.5.15
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, | 2.5.16
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both | 2.5.17
They prosper best of all when I am thence. | 2.5.18
Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; | 2.5.19
For what is in this world but grief and woe? | 2.5.20
O God! methinks it were a happy life, | 2.5.21
To be no better than a homely swain; | 2.5.22
To sit upon a hill, as I do now, | 2.5.23
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, | 2.5.24
Thereby to see the minutes how they run, | 2.5.25
How many make the hour full complete; | 2.5.26
How many hours bring about the day; | 2.5.27
How many days will finish up the year; | 2.5.28
How many years a mortal man may live. | 2.5.29
When this is known, then to divide the times: | 2.5.30
So many hours must I tend my flock; | 2.5.31
So many hours must I take my rest; | 2.5.32
So many hours must I contemplate; | 2.5.33
So many hours must I sport myself; | 2.5.34
So many days my ewes have been with young; | 2.5.35
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean: | 2.5.36
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: | 2.5.37
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, | 2.5.38
Pass'd over to the end they were created, | 2.5.39
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. | 2.5.40
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! | 2.5.41
Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade | 2.5.42
To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, | 2.5.43
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy | 2.5.44
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? | 2.5.45
O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. | 2.5.46
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, | 2.5.47
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. | 2.5.48
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, | 2.5.49
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, | 2.5.50
Is far beyond a prince's delicates, | 2.5.51
His viands sparkling in a golden cup, | 2.5.52
His body couched in a curious bed, | 2.5.53
When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. | 2.5.54
| [Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father, dragging in the dead body]
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. | 2.5.55
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, | 2.5.56
May be possessed with some store of crowns; | 2.5.57
And I, that haply take them from him now, | 2.5.58
May yet ere night yield both my life and them | 2.5.59
To some man else, as this dead man doth me. | 2.5.60
Who's this? O God! it is my father's face, | 2.5.61
Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. | 2.5.62
O heavy times, begetting such events! | 2.5.63
From London by the king was I press'd forth; | 2.5.64
My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, | 2.5.65
Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; | 2.5.66
And I, who at his hands received my life, him | 2.5.67
Have by my hands of life bereaved him. | 2.5.68
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! | 2.5.69
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! | 2.5.70
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; | 2.5.71
And no more words till they have flow'd their fill. | 2.5.72
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
Father. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, | 2.5.79
Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: | 2.5.80
For I have bought it with an hundred blows. | 2.5.81
But let me see: is this our foeman's face? | 2.5.82
Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! | 2.5.83
Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, | 2.5.84
Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise, | 2.5.85
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, | 2.5.86
Upon thy words, that kill mine eye and heart! | 2.5.87
O, pity, God, this miserable age! | 2.5.88
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, | 2.5.89
Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural, | 2.5.90
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! | 2.5.91
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, | 2.5.92
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! | 2.5.93
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
SCENE VI. Another part of the field.
|
|
[A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded]
Clifford. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, | 2.6.1
Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. | 2.6.2
O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow | 2.6.3
More than my body's parting with my soul! | 2.6.4
My love and fear glued many friends to thee; | 2.6.5
And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts. | 2.6.6
Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, | 2.6.7
The common people swarm like summer flies; | 2.6.8
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? | 2.6.9
And who shines now but Henry's enemies? | 2.6.10
O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent | 2.6.11
That Phaethon should cheque thy fiery steeds, | 2.6.12
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth! | 2.6.13
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, | 2.6.14
Or as thy father and his father did, | 2.6.15
Giving no ground unto the house of York, | 2.6.16
They never then had sprung like summer flies; | 2.6.17
I and ten thousand in this luckless realm | 2.6.18
Had left no mourning widows for our death; | 2.6.19
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. | 2.6.20
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? | 2.6.21
And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? | 2.6.22
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; | 2.6.23
No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: | 2.6.24
The foe is merciless, and will not pity; | 2.6.25
For at their hands I have deserved no pity. | 2.6.26
The air hath got into my deadly wounds, | 2.6.27
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. | 2.6.28
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest; | 2.6.29
I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. | 2.6.30
[He faints]
| [Alarum and retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers]
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
ACT III
SCENE I. A forest in the north of England.
|
|
[Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands]
King Henry VI. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, | 3.1.13
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. | 3.1.14
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; | 3.1.15
Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, | 3.1.16
Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed: | 3.1.17
No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, | 3.1.18
No humble suitors press to speak for right, | 3.1.19
No, not a man comes for redress of thee; | 3.1.20
For how can I help them, and not myself? | 3.1.21
| | | | | | | | | |
King Henry VI. My queen and son are gone to France for aid; | 3.1.28
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick | 3.1.29
Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister | 3.1.30
To wife for Edward: if this news be true, | 3.1.31
Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost; | 3.1.32
For Warwick is a subtle orator, | 3.1.33
And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. | 3.1.34
By this account then Margaret may win him; | 3.1.35
For she's a woman to be pitied much: | 3.1.36
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; | 3.1.37
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; | 3.1.38
The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn; | 3.1.39
And Nero will be tainted with remorse, | 3.1.40
To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears. | 3.1.41
Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give; | 3.1.42
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry, | 3.1.43
He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. | 3.1.44
She weeps, and says her Henry is deposed; | 3.1.45
He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd; | 3.1.46
That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more; | 3.1.47
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, | 3.1.48
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, | 3.1.49
And in conclusion wins the king from her, | 3.1.50
With promise of his sister, and what else, | 3.1.51
To strengthen and support King Edward's place. | 3.1.52
O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, | 3.1.53
Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn! | 3.1.54
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
King Henry VI. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man? | 3.1.82
Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear! | 3.1.83
Look, as I blow this feather from my face, | 3.1.84
And as the air blows it to me again, | 3.1.85
Obeying with my wind when I do blow, | 3.1.86
And yielding to another when it blows, | 3.1.87
Commanded always by the greater gust; | 3.1.88
Such is the lightness of you common men. | 3.1.89
But do not break your oaths; for of that sin | 3.1.90
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. | 3.1.91
Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; | 3.1.92
And be you kings, command, and I'll obey. | 3.1.93
| | | | | | | | | | | | |
SCENE II. London. The palace.
|
|
[Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and LADY GREY]
Gloucester. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. | 3.2.140
Would he were wasted, marrow, bones and all, | 3.2.141
That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, | 3.2.142
To cross me from the golden time I look for! | 3.2.143
And yet, between my soul's desire and me-- | 3.2.144
The lustful Edward's title buried-- | 3.2.145
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, | 3.2.146
And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies, | 3.2.147
To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: | 3.2.148
A cold premeditation for my purpose! | 3.2.149
Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty; | 3.2.150
Like one that stands upon a promontory, | 3.2.151
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, | 3.2.152
Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, | 3.2.153
And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, | 3.2.154
Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way: | 3.2.155
So do I wish the crown, being so far off; | 3.2.156
And so I chide the means that keeps me from it; | 3.2.157
And so I say, I'll cut the causes off, | 3.2.158
Flattering me with impossibilities. | 3.2.159
My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, | 3.2.160
Unless my hand and strength could equal them. | 3.2.161
Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; | 3.2.162
What other pleasure can the world afford? | 3.2.163
I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap, | 3.2.164
And deck my body in gay ornaments, | 3.2.165
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. | 3.2.166
O miserable thought! and more unlikely | 3.2.167
Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! | 3.2.168
Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb: | 3.2.169
And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, | 3.2.170
She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe, | 3.2.171
To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; | 3.2.172
To make an envious mountain on my back, | 3.2.173
Where sits deformity to mock my body; | 3.2.174
To shape my legs of an unequal size; | 3.2.175
To disproportion me in every part, | 3.2.176
Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp | 3.2.177
That carries no impression like the dam. | 3.2.178
And am I then a man to be beloved? | 3.2.179
O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! | 3.2.180
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, | 3.2.181
But to command, to cheque, to o'erbear such | 3.2.182
As are of better person than myself, | 3.2.183
I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, | 3.2.184
And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell, | 3.2.185
Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head | 3.2.186
Be round impaled with a glorious crown. | 3.2.187
And yet I know not how to get the crown, | 3.2.188
For many lives stand between me and home: | 3.2.189
And I,--like one lost in a thorny wood, | 3.2.190
That rends the thorns and is rent with the thorns, | 3.2.191
Seeking a way and straying from the way; | 3.2.192
Not knowing how to find the open air, | 3.2.193
But toiling desperately to find it out,-- | 3.2.194
Torment myself to catch the English crown: | 3.2.195
And from that torment I will free myself, | 3.2.196
Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. | 3.2.197
Why, I can smile, and murder whiles I smile, | 3.2.198
And cry 'Content' to that which grieves my heart, | 3.2.199
And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, | 3.2.200
And frame my face to all occasions. | 3.2.201
I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; | 3.2.202
I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; | 3.2.203
I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, | 3.2.204
Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, | 3.2.205
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. | 3.2.206
I can add colours to the chameleon, | 3.2.207
Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, | 3.2.208
And set the murderous Machiavel to school. | 3.2.209
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? | 3.2.210
Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down. | 3.2.211
[Exit]
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
SCENE III. France. KING LEWIS XI's palace.
|
|
[Flourish. Enter KING LEWIS XI, his sister BONA, his Admiral, called BOURBON, PRINCE EDWARD, QUEEN MARGARET, and OXFORD. KING LEWIS XI sits, and riseth up again]
Queen Margaret. Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts | 3.3.22
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. | 3.3.23
Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, | 3.3.24
That Henry, sole possessor of my love, | 3.3.25
Is of a king become a banish'd man, | 3.3.26
And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn; | 3.3.27
While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York | 3.3.28
Usurps the regal title and the seat | 3.3.29
Of England's true-anointed lawful king. | 3.3.30
This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, | 3.3.31
With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, | 3.3.32
Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; | 3.3.33
And if thou fail us, all our hope is done: | 3.3.34
Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; | 3.3.35
Our people and our peers are both misled, | 3.3.36
Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight, | 3.3.37
And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. | 3.3.38
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
Warwick. From worthy Edward, King of Albion, | 3.3.50
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, | 3.3.51
I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, | 3.3.52
First, to do greetings to thy royal person; | 3.3.53
And then to crave a league of amity; | 3.3.54
And lastly, to confirm that amity | 3.3.55
With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant | 3.3.56
That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister, | 3.3.57
To England's king in lawful marriage. | 3.3.58
| | | | | | | | | |
Queen Margaret. King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak, | 3.3.66
Before you answer Warwick. His demand | 3.3.67
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, | 3.3.68
But from deceit bred by necessity; | 3.3.69
For how can tyrants safely govern home, | 3.3.70
Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? | 3.3.71
To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice, | 3.3.72
That Henry liveth still: but were he dead, | 3.3.73
Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son. | 3.3.74
Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage | 3.3.75
Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour; | 3.3.76
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, | 3.3.77
Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. | 3.3.78
| | | | | | | | | | | | | |
Warwick. King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven, | 3.3.184
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, | 3.3.185
That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's, | 3.3.186
No more my king, for he dishonours me, | 3.3.187
But most himself, if he could see his shame. | 3.3.188
Did I forget that by the house of York | 3.3.189
My father came untimely to his death? | 3.3.190
Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? | 3.3.191
Did I impale him with the regal crown? | 3.3.192
Did I put Henry from his native right? | 3.3.193
And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? | 3.3.194
Shame on himself! for my desert is honour: | 3.3.195
And to repair my honour lost for him, | 3.3.196
I here renounce him and return to Henry. | 3.3.197
My noble queen, let former grudges pass, | 3.3.198
And henceforth I am thy true servitor: | 3.3.199
I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona, | 3.3.200
And replant Henry in his former state. | 3.3.201
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
King Lewis XI. But, Warwick, | 3.3.237
Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men, | 3.3.238
Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle; | 3.3.239
And, as occasion serves, this noble queen | 3.3.240
And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. | 3.3.241
Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt, | 3.3.242
What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? | 3.3.243
| | | | | | | |
ACT IV
SCENE I. London. The palace.
|
|
[Enter GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, and MONTAGUE]
King Edward IV. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick! | 4.1.128
Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; | 4.1.129
And haste is needful in this desperate case. | 4.1.130
Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf | 4.1.131
Go levy men, and make prepare for war; | 4.1.132
They are already, or quickly will be landed: | 4.1.133
Myself in person will straight follow you. | 4.1.134
[Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFORD]
But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague, | 4.1.135
Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, | 4.1.136
Are near to Warwick by blood and by alliance: | 4.1.137
Tell me if you love Warwick more than me? | 4.1.138
If it be so, then both depart to him; | 4.1.139
I rather wish you foes than hollow friends: | 4.1.140
But if you mind to hold your true obedience, | 4.1.141
Give me assurance with some friendly vow, | 4.1.142
That I may never have you in suspect. | 4.1.143
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
SCENE II. A plain in Warwickshire.
|
|
[Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French soldiers]
Warwick. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick; | 4.2.6
And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice | 4.2.7
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart | 4.2.8
Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love; | 4.2.9
Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, | 4.2.10
Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings: | 4.2.11
But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. | 4.2.12
And now what rests but, in night's coverture, | 4.2.13
Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, | 4.2.14
His soldiers lurking in the towns about, | 4.2.15
And but attended by a simple guard, | 4.2.16
We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? | 4.2.17
Our scouts have found the adventure very easy: | 4.2.18
That as Ulysses and stout Diomede | 4.2.19
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents, | 4.2.20
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, | 4.2.21
So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle, | 4.2.22
At unawares may beat down Edward's guard | 4.2.23
And seize himself; I say not, slaughter him, | 4.2.24
For I intend but only to surprise him. | 4.2.25
You that will follow me to this attempt, | 4.2.26
Applaud the name of Henry with your leader. | 4.2.27
[They all cry, 'Henry!']
Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort: | 4.2.28
For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George! | 4.2.29
[Exeunt]
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
SCENE III. Edward's camp, near Warwick.
|
|
[Enter three Watchmen, to guard KING EDWARD IV's tent]
Second Watchman. Stay, or thou diest! | 4.3.27
[WARWICK and the rest cry all, 'Warwick! Warwick!' and set upon the Guard, who fly, crying, 'Arm! arm!' WARWICK and the rest following them]
[The drum playing and trumpet sounding, reenter WARWICK, SOMERSET, and the rest, bringing KING EDWARD IV out in his gown, sitting in a chair. RICHARD and HASTINGS fly over the stage]
| | | |
Warwick. Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king: | 4.3.49
[Takes off his crown]
But Henry now shall wear the English crown, | 4.3.50
And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow. | 4.3.51
My Lord of Somerset, at my request, | 4.3.52
See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd | 4.3.53
Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. | 4.3.54
When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, | 4.3.55
I'll follow you, and tell what answer | 4.3.56
Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him. | 4.3.57
Now, for a while farewell, good Duke of York. | 4.3.58
[They lead him out forcibly]
| | | | | | | | | | | | |
SCENE IV. London. The palace.
|
|
[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERS]
SCENE V. A park near Middleham Castle In Yorkshire.
|
|
[Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and STANLEY]
Gloucester. Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, | 4.5.1
Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither, | 4.5.2
Into this chiefest thicket of the park. | 4.5.3
Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother, | 4.5.4
Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands | 4.5.5
He hath good usage and great liberty, | 4.5.6
And, often but attended with weak guard, | 4.5.7
Comes hunting this way to disport himself. | 4.5.8
I have advertised him by secret means | 4.5.9
That if about this hour he make his way | 4.5.10
Under the colour of his usual game, | 4.5.11
He shall here find his friends with horse and men | 4.5.12
To set him free from his captivity. | 4.5.13
| [Enter KING EDWARD IV and a Huntsman with him]
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
SCENE VI. London. The Tower.
|
|
[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, CLARENCE, WARWICK, SOMERSET, HENRY OF RICHMOND, OXFORD, MONTAGUE, and Lieutenant of the Tower]
King Henry VI. For what, lieutenant? for well using me? | 4.6.9
Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness, | 4.6.10
For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure; | 4.6.11
Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds | 4.6.12
Conceive when after many moody thoughts | 4.6.13
At last by notes of household harmony | 4.6.14
They quite forget their loss of liberty. | 4.6.15
But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, | 4.6.16
And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; | 4.6.17
He was the author, thou the instrument. | 4.6.18
Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite | 4.6.19
By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me, | 4.6.20
And that the people of this blessed land | 4.6.21
May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars, | 4.6.22
Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, | 4.6.23
I here resign my government to thee, | 4.6.24
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds. | 4.6.25
| | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | | |
Warwick. Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content: | 4.6.48
We'll yoke together, like a double shadow | 4.6.49
To Henry's body, and supply his place; | 4.6.50
I mean, in bearing weight of government, | 4.6.51
While he enjoys the honour and his ease. | 4.6.52
And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful | 4.6.53
Forthwith that Edward be pronounced a traitor, | 4.6.54
And all his lands and goods be confiscate. | 4.6.55
| | | | | | | | |
SCENE VII. Before York.
|
|
[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and Soldiers]
King Edward IV. Thanks, brave Montgomery; and thanks unto you all: | 4.7.76
If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. | 4.7.77
Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York; | 4.7.78
And when the morning sun shall raise his car | 4.7.79
Above the border of this horizon, | 4.7.80
We'll forward towards Warwick and his mates; | 4.7.81
For well I wot that Henry is no soldier. | 4.7.82
Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems thee | 4.7.83
To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother! | 4.7.84
Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick. | 4.7.85
Come on, brave soldiers: doubt not of the day, | 4.7.86
And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. | 4.7.87
[Exeunt]
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SCENE VIII. London. The palace.
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[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, WARWICK, MONTAGUE, CLARENCE, EXETER, and OXFORD]
Warwick. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, | 4.8.9
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; | 4.8.10
Those will I muster up: and thou, son Clarence, | 4.8.11
Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, | 4.8.12
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee: | 4.8.13
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, | 4.8.14
Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find | 4.8.15
Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st: | 4.8.16
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved, | 4.8.17
In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends. | 4.8.18
My sovereign, with the loving citizens, | 4.8.19
Like to his island girt in with the ocean, | 4.8.20
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, | 4.8.21
Shall rest in London till we come to him. | 4.8.22
Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply. | 4.8.23
Farewell, my sovereign. | 4.8.24
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ACT V
SCENE I. Coventry.
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[Enter WARWICK, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, and others upon the walls]
Clarence. Father of Warwick, know you what this means? | 5.1.81
[Taking his red rose out of his hat]
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee | 5.1.82
I will not ruinate my father's house, | 5.1.83
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, | 5.1.84
And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick, | 5.1.85
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, | 5.1.86
To bend the fatal instruments of war | 5.1.87
Against his brother and his lawful king? | 5.1.88
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath: | 5.1.89
To keep that oath were more impiety | 5.1.90
Than Jephthah's, when he sacrificed his daughter. | 5.1.91
I am so sorry for my trespass made | 5.1.92
That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, | 5.1.93
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe, | 5.1.94
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee-- | 5.1.95
As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad-- | 5.1.96
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. | 5.1.97
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, | 5.1.98
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. | 5.1.99
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends: | 5.1.100
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, | 5.1.101
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. | 5.1.102
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SCENE II. A field of battle near Barnet.
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[Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD IV, bringing forth WARWICK wounded]
Warwick. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe, | 5.2.5
And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? | 5.2.6
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, | 5.2.7
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows. | 5.2.8
That I must yield my body to the earth | 5.2.9
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. | 5.2.10
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, | 5.2.11
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, | 5.2.12
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept, | 5.2.13
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree | 5.2.14
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. | 5.2.15
These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, | 5.2.16
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, | 5.2.17
To search the secret treasons of the world: | 5.2.18
The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, | 5.2.19
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; | 5.2.20
For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? | 5.2.21
And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow? | 5.2.22
Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! | 5.2.23
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had. | 5.2.24
Even now forsake me, and of all my lands | 5.2.25
Is nothing left me but my body's length. | 5.2.26
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? | 5.2.27
And, live we how we can, yet die we must. | 5.2.28
| [Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET]
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Warwick. Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, | 5.2.33
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand. | 5.2.34
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile! | 5.2.35
Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst, | 5.2.36
Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood | 5.2.37
That glues my lips and will not let me speak. | 5.2.38
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. | 5.2.39
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SCENE III. Another part of the field.
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[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV in triumph; with GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest]
King Edward IV. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, | 5.3.1
And we are graced with wreaths of victory. | 5.3.2
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, | 5.3.3
I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud, | 5.3.4
That will encounter with our glorious sun, | 5.3.5
Ere he attain his easeful western bed: | 5.3.6
I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen | 5.3.7
Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast | 5.3.8
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. | 5.3.9
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SCENE IV. Plains near Tewksbury.
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[March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and soldiers]
Queen Margaret. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, | 5.4.1
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. | 5.4.2
What though the mast be now blown overboard, | 5.4.3
The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost, | 5.4.4
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? | 5.4.5
Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he | 5.4.6
Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad | 5.4.7
With tearful eyes add water to the sea | 5.4.8
And give more strength to that which hath too much, | 5.4.9
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, | 5.4.10
Which industry and courage might have saved? | 5.4.11
Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! | 5.4.12
Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? | 5.4.13
And Montague our topmost; what of him? | 5.4.14
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these? | 5.4.15
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? | 5.4.16
And Somerset another goodly mast? | 5.4.17
The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? | 5.4.18
And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I | 5.4.19
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? | 5.4.20
We will not from the helm to sit and weep, | 5.4.21
But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, | 5.4.22
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck. | 5.4.23
As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. | 5.4.24
And what is Edward but ruthless sea? | 5.4.25
What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? | 5.4.26
And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? | 5.4.27
All these the enemies to our poor bark. | 5.4.28
Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while! | 5.4.29
Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink: | 5.4.30
Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off, | 5.4.31
Or else you famish; that's a threefold death. | 5.4.32
This speak I, lords, to let you understand, | 5.4.33
If case some one of you would fly from us, | 5.4.34
That there's no hoped-for mercy with the brothers | 5.4.35
More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks. | 5.4.36
Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided | 5.4.37
'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear. | 5.4.38
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Queen Margaret. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say | 5.4.73
My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, | 5.4.74
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. | 5.4.75
Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign, | 5.4.76
Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd, | 5.4.77
His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, | 5.4.78
His statutes cancell'd and his treasure spent; | 5.4.79
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. | 5.4.80
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords, | 5.4.81
Be valiant and give signal to the fight. | 5.4.82
[Alarum. Retreat. Excursions. Exeunt]
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SCENE V. Another part of the field.
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[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and soldiers; with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, prisoners]
Queen Margaret. O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy! | 5.5.51
Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers! | 5.5.52
They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all, | 5.5.53
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, | 5.5.54
If this foul deed were by to equal it: | 5.5.55
He was a man; this, in respect, a child: | 5.5.56
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. | 5.5.57
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? | 5.5.58
No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speak: | 5.5.59
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. | 5.5.60
Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals! | 5.5.61
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! | 5.5.62
You have no children, butchers! if you had, | 5.5.63
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse: | 5.5.64
But if you ever chance to have a child, | 5.5.65
Look in his youth to have him so cut off | 5.5.66
As, deathmen, you have rid this sweet young prince! | 5.5.67
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SCENE VI. London. The Tower.
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[Enter KING HENRY VI and GLOUCESTER, with the Lieutenant, on the walls]
King Henry VI. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume, | 5.6.35
Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. | 5.6.36
And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand, | 5.6.37
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, | 5.6.38
And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's, | 5.6.39
And many an orphan's water-standing eye-- | 5.6.40
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands, | 5.6.41
And orphans for their parents timeless death-- | 5.6.42
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. | 5.6.43
The owl shriek'd at thy birth,--an evil sign; | 5.6.44
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; | 5.6.45
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees; | 5.6.46
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, | 5.6.47
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. | 5.6.48
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, | 5.6.49
And, yet brought forth less than a mother's hope, | 5.6.50
To wit, an indigested and deformed lump, | 5.6.51
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. | 5.6.52
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, | 5.6.53
To signify thou camest to bite the world: | 5.6.54
And, if the rest be true which I have heard, | 5.6.55
Thou camest-- | 5.6.56
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Gloucester. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster | 5.6.61
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. | 5.6.62
See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death! | 5.6.63
O, may such purple tears be alway shed | 5.6.64
From those that wish the downfall of our house! | 5.6.65
If any spark of life be yet remaining, | 5.6.66
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither: | 5.6.67
[Stabs him again]
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. | 5.6.68
Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; | 5.6.69
For I have often heard my mother say | 5.6.70
I came into the world with my legs forward: | 5.6.71
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, | 5.6.72
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? | 5.6.73
The midwife wonder'd and the women cried | 5.6.74
'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!' | 5.6.75
And so I was; which plainly signified | 5.6.76
That I should snarl and bite and play the dog. | 5.6.77
Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so, | 5.6.78
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. | 5.6.79
I have no brother, I am like no brother; | 5.6.80
And this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine, | 5.6.81
Be resident in men like one another | 5.6.82
And not in me: I am myself alone. | 5.6.83
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light: | 5.6.84
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee; | 5.6.85
For I will buz abroad such prophecies | 5.6.86
That Edward shall be fearful of his life, | 5.6.87
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. | 5.6.88
King Henry and the prince his son are gone: | 5.6.89
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest, | 5.6.90
Counting myself but bad till I be best. | 5.6.91
I'll throw thy body in another room | 5.6.92
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. | 5.6.93
[Exit, with the body]
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SCENE VII. London. The palace.
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[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, QUEEN ELIZABETH, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, a Nurse with the young Prince, and Attendants]
King Edward IV. Once more we sit in England's royal throne, | 5.7.1
Re-purchased with the blood of enemies. | 5.7.2
What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn, | 5.7.3
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride! | 5.7.4
Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd | 5.7.5
For hardy and undoubted champions; | 5.7.6
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son, | 5.7.7
And two Northumberlands; two braver men | 5.7.8
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound; | 5.7.9
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, | 5.7.10
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion | 5.7.11
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. | 5.7.12
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat | 5.7.13
And made our footstool of security. | 5.7.14
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. | 5.7.15
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself | 5.7.16
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night, | 5.7.17
Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, | 5.7.18
That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace; | 5.7.19
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. | 5.7.20
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