Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas;
The duke is made protector of the realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe 7 such safety finds
The trembling lamb, environed with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes,
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour:
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself,
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of parliament be repeal'd,
Whereby my son is disinherited.

The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colours,

Will follow mine, if once they see them spread:
And spread they shall be; to thy foul disgrace,
And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee :-Come, son, let's away;
Our army's ready; Come, we'll after them.
K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me
speak.

Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already; get thee gone.

K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?

Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. Prince. When I return with victory from the field,

I'll see your grace: till then, I'll follow her.
Q. Mar. Come, son, away; we may not linger

thus.

[Exeunt Queen Margaret, and the Prince. K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me and to her son,

Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke;
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will coast my crown, and, like an empty eagle,
Tire on the flesh of me, and of my son!
The loss of those three lords torments my heart:
I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair :-
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
Exe. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

Rich. About that which concerns your grace,

and us; The crown of England, father, which is yours. York. Mine, boy? not till King Henry be dead. Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death. Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end.

York I took an oath that he should quietly reign. Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be

broken:

Henry had none, but did usurp the place;
Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore to arms. And, father, do but think,
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown ;
Within whose circuit is Elysium,
And all the poets feign of bliss and joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest,
Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.
York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.-
Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.-
Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk,
And tell him privately of our intent.
You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise:
In them I trust; for they are soldiers,
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.-
While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more
But that I seek occasion how to rise;
And yet the king not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster ?
Enter a Messenger.

But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou in such post?

Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls and lords,

Intend here to besiege you in your castle;
She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
York Ay, with my sword. What! think'st

thou, that we fear them ?-
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me:-
My brother Montague shall post to London !
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we have left protectors of the king,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths.
Mont. Brother, I go: I'll win them, fear it not t
And thus most humbly I do take my leave.

Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles!

You are come to Sandal in a happy hour:
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.
Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in
the field.

York. What, with five thousand men?
Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need.
A woman's general; What should we fear?
[A March afar off.

Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in

order;

And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. York. Five men to twenty !-though the odds be great,

I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France,
When as the enemy hath been ten to one;
Why should I not now have the like success?
[Alarum. Exeunt.

SCENE III. Plains near Sandal Castle. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Rutland, and his

Tutor.

Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
[Exit, forced off by Soldiers.
Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is
it fear,

That makes him close his eyes 7-I'll open them.
Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
That trembles under his devouring paws:
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey;
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.-
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threatning look."
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die ;-
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath,
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.
Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my fa-
ther's blood

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should

enter.

Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again; He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine,

Were not revenge sufficient for me!

No, if I digg 'd up thy forefathers' graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul:
And till I root out their accursed line,
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore

[Lifting his hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death:To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! Clif Such pity as my rapier's point afford. Rut. I never did thee harm: Why wilt thou slay me ?

Clif. Thy father hath.
Rut.
But 'twas ere I was born.
Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me;
Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith God is just,-
He be as miserably slain as I.

Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
And when I give occasion of offence,
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Clif. No cause?

Thy father slew my father; therefore die.
[Clifford stabs him.
Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tua!
[Dies.

Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet !
And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade,
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.
[Erit.

SCENE IV. The same.
Alarum. Enter York.

York. The army of the queen hath got the field;
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind,
Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons God knows, what hath bechanced

And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury;
And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury;
The sands are number'd, that make up my life;
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northum-
berland, and Soldiers."

Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumber-
land,-
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage;
1 am your butt, and I abide your shot.

North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm, With downright payment, show'd unto my father.

Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.
York. My ashes, as the Phoenix,may bring forth
A bird that will revenge upon you all:
And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven,
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.
Why come you not? what, multitudes, and fear?
Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no
further;

So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.

York. O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And, in thy thought o'errun my former time: And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face; And bite thy tongue that slanders him with cowardice,

Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this.
Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word;
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.
[Draws.

Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand causes,

I would prolong awhile the traitor's life: Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland.

North. Hold, Clifford; do not honour him so much,

To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn him with his foot away?
It is war's prize to take all vantages;
And ten to one is no impeach of valour.

[They lay hands on York, who struggles. Clif Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. [York is taken prisoner. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty;

So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd. North. What would your grace have done unto him now ?

Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford, and Northumberland,

Come make him stand upon this molehill here; That raught at mountains with outstretched

arms,

Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.-
What! was it you that would be England's king?
Was't you that revell'd in our parliament,
And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
And where's that valiant crookback prodigy,
Dicky, your boy, that with his grumbling voice,
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ?
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland ?
Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the blood
That variant Clifford, with his rapier's point,
Made issue from the bosom of the boy;"
And, if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state.
I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York;

Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance; What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails,

That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? Why art thou patient, man? thou should'st be mad;

And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Thou would'st be fee'd I see, to make me sport;
York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.-
A crown for York ;-and, lords, bow low to
him.-

Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.

[Putting a paper Crown on his Head.
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!
Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair;
And this is he was his adopted heir.-
But how is it that great Plantagenet

Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath?
As I bethink me, you should not be king,
Till our king Henry had shook hands with death.
And will you pale your head in Henry's glory,
And rob his temples of the diadem,
Now in his life, against your holy oath?
O, tis a fault too too unpardonable!

Off with the crown; and, with the crown his head;

And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him

dead.

Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he makes.

York She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,

Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's

tooth!

How ill beseeming is it in thy sex,
To triumph like an Amazonian trull,
Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates?
But that thy face is, visorlike, unchanging;
Made impudent with use of evil deeds,

I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush: To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd,

Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless.

Thy father bears the type of king of Naples,
Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem;

Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?
It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen;
Unless the adage must be verified,-

That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. "Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud; But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small: "Tis virtue, that doth make them most admir'd; The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: "Tis government, that make them seem divine; The want thereof makes thee abominable: Thou art as opposite to every good, As the Antipodes are unto us,

Or as the south to the septentrion.

O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child,

To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible;
Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
Bidd'st thou me rage, why, now thou hast thy
wish:

Would'st have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will:

For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; And every drop cries vengeance for his death,'Gainst thee, fell Clifford,-aud thee, false Frenchwoman.

North. Beshrew me, but his passions move

me so,

That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. York. That face of his the hungry cannibals

death.

ACT II.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I. A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in Herefordshire.

Drums. Enter Edward and Richard, with
their Forces, marching.
Edw. I wonder how our princely father
'scap'd;

Or whether he be 'scap'd away, or no,
From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit;
Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the
news;

Had he been slain, we should have heard the

news;

Or, had he 'scap'd, methinks, we should have heard

The happy tidings of his good escape.
How fares my brother? why is he so sad?
Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd
Where our right valiant father is become.
I saw him in the battle range about;
And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth.
Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop,
As doth a lion in a herd of neat ;

Or as a bear encompass'd round with dogs;
Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
So far'd our father with his enemies:
So fled his enemies my warlike father;
Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son.
See, how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love!
Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?
Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect
Not separated with the racking clouds,
But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
As if they vow'd some league inviolable:
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun
In this the heaven figures some event.

[sun;