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Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas; Hinry had none, but did usurp the place;
Brother, thou shalt to London presently, The northern lords, that have forsworn thy And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.colours,
Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk, Will follow mine, if once they see them spread : And tell him privately of our intentAnd spread they shall be ; to thy foul disgrace, You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, And utter ruin of the house of York.
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rises Thus do I leave thee :-Come, son, let's away ; In them I trust; for they are soldiers, Our army's ready ; Come, we'll after them.
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me While you are thús employ'd, whai resteth more, speak.
But that I seek occasion how to rise ; Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already ; And yet the king not privy to my drift, get thee gone.
Nor any of the house of Lancaster ? K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
Enter a Messenger. Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. But, stay; What news 7 Why com'st thou in Prince. When I return with victory from the such post ? field,
Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls I'll see your grace: till then, I'll follow her.
and lords, Q. Mar. Come, son, away; we may not linger Intend here to besiege you in your castle ; thus.
She is hard by with twenty thousand men; (Exeunt Queen Margaret, and the Prince. And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. K. Hen. Poor queen ! how love to me and to York Ay, with my sword. 'What I think'st her son,
thou, that we fear them ?Hath made her break out into terms of rage ! Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me: Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke; My brother Montague shall post to London ! Whose hanghly spirit, winged with desire, Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Will coast my crown, and, like an empty eagle, Whom we have left protectors of the king, Tire on the flesh of me, anil of my son ! With powerful policy strengthen themselves, The loss of those three lords torments my heart: And trust not simple Henry, por his oaths. l'll write unto them, and entreat them fair : Mont. Brother, I go: I'll win them, fear it not: Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exe.' And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. SCENE II.
York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine A Room in Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in uncles ! Yorkshire.
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour:
The army of the queen mean to besiege ns. Enter Edward, Richard, and Montague. Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me
the field. Jeave.
York. What, with five thousand men ? Edw. No, I cau better play the orator.
Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible. A woman's general; What should we fear ?
[4 March afar of Enter York.
Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a
order ; strife ?
And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. What is your quarrel ? how began it first ? York. Five men to twenty-though the odds Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention.
be great, York. About what ?
I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Rich. About that which concerns your grace, Many a baitle have I won in France,
When as the enemy hath been ten to one ; The crown of England, father, which is yours. Why should I not now have the like success ? York. Mine, boy ? not till King Henry be dead.
[Alarum. Exeunt. Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death. Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now:
SCENE III. Plains near Sandal Castle. By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, Alarums: Excursions. Enter Rutland, and his It will ontrun you, father, in the end.
Tutor. York I took an oath that he should quietly reign. Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be hands?
broken: I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year.
Ah, tutor I look where bloody Clifford comes ! Rich. No ; God forbid, your grace should be
Enter Clifford, and Soldiers. forsworn.
Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves York. I shall be, if I claim by open war.
thy life. Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me As for the brat of this accursed duke, speak.
Whose father slew my father,-he shall die. York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took Cluf. Soldiers, away with him. Before a true and lawful magistrate,
Tut. Ah, Clifford I murder got this innocent That hath authority over him that swears :
Lest thou be hated both of God and man. And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury;
(Erit, forced off by Soldiers. And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury; Clif. How now! 'is he dead already ? Or, is The sands are number'd, that make up my life it fear,
Here must I stay, and here my life must end. That makes him close his eyes 1-I'll open them. Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, NorthumThat trembles under his devouring paws:
berland, and Soldiers. And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; Come, bloody Clifford,-rough NorthumberAnd so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.
land, Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, I dare your quenchless fury to more rage; And not with such a cruel threatning look. I am your butt, and I abide your shot. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die ; Norih. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. I am too mean a subject for thy wrath,
Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm, Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. With downright payment, show'd unto my Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy ; my fa father. ther's blood
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should And made an evening at the noontide prick.
York. My ashes,as the Phænix,may bring forth Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again; A bird that will revenge upon you all : He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. And, in that hope, 1 throw mine eyes to heaven, Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. thine,
Why come yon not? what, multitudes, and fear? Were not revenge sufficient for me!
Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no No, if I diggd up thy forefathers' graves,
further; And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, The sight of any of the house of York
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. Is as a fury to torment my soul :
York. 0, Clifford, but bethink thee once aguin, And till I root out their accursed line,
And, in thy thought o'errun my former ume: And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face;. Therefore
[Listing his hand. And bite thy tongue that slanders him with Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death : cowardice, To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. Clif Such pity as my rapier's point afford. Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word; Rut. I never did the harm: Why wilt thou slay But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. me 1
(Draws. Clif. Thy father hath.
Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford I for a thou. Rut. Bit 'twas ere I was born.
sand causes, Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; I would prolong awhile the traitor's life: Lest, in revenge thereof,--sith God is just, - Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, NorthumHe be as miserably slain as I.
berland. Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
North Hold, Clifford; do not honour hon so And when I give occasion of offence,
much, Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: Clif: No cause ?
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, Thy father slew my father ; therefore die. For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
(Clifford stabs him. When he might spurn him with his foot away? Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tua! It is war's prize to take all vantages ;
Dies. And ten to one is no impcach of valour. Clif. Plantagenet ! I come, Plantagenet
[ They lay hands on York, who struggles. And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the Shall rust upon my weapon, till
gin. Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. North. So doth the coney struggle in the net.
[York is taken prisoner. SCENE IV. The same.
York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd
booty Alarum. Enter York.
So true men yield, with robbers 80 o'ermatch'd. York. The army of the queen hath got the field; North. What would your grace have done unto My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
him now ? And all my followers to the eager foe
Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford, and Nor Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, thumberland, Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. Come make him stand upon this molehill here ; My sons. God knows, what hath bechanced That raught at mountains with outstretched them :
arme, But this I know, they have demean'd themselves Yet parted but the shadow with
his hand. Like men born to renown, by life, or death. What! was it yon that would be England'sking ? Three times did Richard make a lane to me; Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, And thrice cried,--Courage, father! fight it out! And made a preachineut of your high descent ? And fall as oft came Edward to my side, Where are your mess of sons to back you now? With purple falchion painted to the hilt The wanton Edward, and the lusty George ? In blood of those that had encounter'd him: And where's that valiant crookback prodigy, And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Dicky, your boy, that with his grumbling voice, Richard cried, -Charge! and give no foot of Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies 1 ground!
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland ? Ana cried,
-A crown, or else a glorious tomb! Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the blond A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre !
That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, With this we charg'd again : but, out alas! Made issne from the bosom of the boy ; We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan And, if thine eyes can water for his death, With bootless labour swim against the tide, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. And spend her strength, with overmatching Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, waves.
A short Alarum within. I should lament thy miserable state. Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue ; i pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York;
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance; Would not have touch'd would not have stain'd Whal, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine en with blood; trails,
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death ? O, ten times more,--than tigers of Hyrcania. Why art thou patient, man thou should'st be See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears : mad;
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. And I with tears do wash the blood away: Thou would'st be fee'd I see, to make me sport; Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.
(He gives back the Handkerchief. A crown for York ;-and, lords, bow low to And, if thou tell at the heavy story right, him.
Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. Yea, even my foes will shed fast falling tears,
[Putting a paper Crown on his Head. And say,-Alas, it was a piteous deed Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my Ay, this is he that look King Henry's chair i
curse; And this is he was his adopted heir.
And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, But how is it that great Plantagenet
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath ? Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world ; As I belhink me, you should not be king, My soul to Heaven, my blood upon your heads! Till our king Henry had shook hands with death. North. Had he been slaughterman to all my And will you pale your head in Henry's glory, kin, And rob his temples of the diadem,
I should not for my life but weep with him, Now in his life, against your holy oath ? To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. 0, tis a fault too too unpardonable !
Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Nor off with the crown; and, with the crown his thumberland ? head;
Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. dead.
Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's Clif: That is my office, for my father's sake.
(Stabbing him Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he Q. Mar. And here's to right our ģentle-hearted makes.
[Stabbing him. York She-wolf of France, but worse than York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracions God! wolves of France,
My soul Aies through these wounds to seek out Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's thee.
[Dies. tooth !
Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York How ill beseeming is it in thy sex,
gates ; To triumph like an Amazonian trull,
So York may overlook the town of York. Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates?
[Ereunt. But that thy face is, visorlike, anchanging; Made impudent with itse of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush :
ACT II. To tell thee whence thou cam’st, of whom SCENE I. A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in
deriv'd, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou
Herefordshire. not shameless.
Drums. Enter Edward and Richard, with Thy father bears the type of king of Naples,
their Forces, marching. or both the Sicils, and Jerusalem;
Edw. I wonder how our princely father Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
'scap'd ; Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? Or whether he be 'scap'd away, or no, It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen; From Clitford's and Northumberland's pursuit; Unless the adage must be verified,
Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. news; "Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud ; Had he been slain, we should have heard tho Bat, God he knows, thy share thereof is small : news: "Tis virtue, that doth make them inost admir'd; Or, had he 'scap'd, methinks, we should have The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at:
heard 'Tis government, that make them seem divine; The happy tidings of his good escape. The want thereof makes thee abominable: How fares my brother ? why is he so sad ? Thou art as opposite to every good,
Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd As the Antipodes are unto us,
Where our right valiant father is become. Or as the south to the septentrion.
I saw him in the battle range about ; , tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, child,
As doth a lion in a herd of neat; To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
Or as a bear encompass'd round with dogs; And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ; The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. Thou stern, obdurate, finty, rough, remorseless. So far'd our father with his enemies : Bidd'st thou me rage, why, now thou hast thy So fled his enemies my warlike father ; wish :
Methinks, 'lis prize enough to be his son. Would'st have me weep? why, now thou hast See, how the morning opes her golden gates, thy will:
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! For raging wind blows up incessant showers, How well resembles it the prime of youth, And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love! These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ; Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns ? And every drop cries vengeance for his death, Rich. Three glorious sins, each one a perfect Gainst ihee, 'fell Clifford,-and thee, false Not separated with the racking clouds,
But sever'd in a pale clear shining sky. North. Beshirew me, but his passions move See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
As if they vow'd some league inviolable : That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun
York. That face of his the hungry cannibals In this the heaven figures some event.
Edw. "Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never| Rich. Great lord of Warwick, we should heard of.
recount I think, it cites us, brother, to the field; Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverThat we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
ance, Each one already blazing by our meeds, Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, Should notwithstanding, join our lights together, The words would add more anguish than the And overshine the earth, as this the world.
wounds. Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. Opon my target three fair shining suns.
Edw. O Warwick I Warwick! that Planta. Rich. Nay, bear three daughters ;-by your genet, leave I speak it,
Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, You love the breeder better than the male. Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death. Enter a Messenger.
War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in
fears. But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell And now to add more measure to your woes, Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue ? I come to tell you things since then befall'n.
Mess. Ah, one that was a woful looker on, After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
I then in London, keeper of the king,
Bearing the king in my behalf along: But Hercules himself must yield to odds; For by my sconce I was advertised, And many strokes, though with a little axe, That she was coming with a full intent Hew down and fell the hardest-limber'd oak. To dash our late decree in parliament, By many hands your father was subdu'd ; Touching King Henry's bath, and your sue But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
cession. Of unrelenting, Clifford, and the queen: Short tale to make,-we at Saint Albans met, Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite ; Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, wept,
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen; A napkin steep'd in the harmless blood Or whether 'twas report of her success; Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain : Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, Who thunders to his captives-blood and death, They took his head, and on the gates of York I cannot judge : but, to conclude with truth, They set the same; and there it doth remain, Their weapons like to lightning came and went; The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. Our soldiers-like the night owl's lazy flight, Edw. Sweet' duke of York, our prop to lean Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail, upon ;
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay !- I cheer'd ihem np with justice of our cause, O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain
With promise of high pay, and great rewards : The flower of Europe for his chivalry; But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight, And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, And we, in them, no hope to win the day, For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd So that we fled ; the king, unto the queen; thee I
Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, Now my soul's palace is become a prison : In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; Ah, would she break from bence! that this my For in the marches here, we heard you were, body
Making another head to fight again. Might in the ground be closed up in rest : Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle For never henceforth shall I joy again,
Warwick? Never, never, shall I see more joy.
And when came George from Burgundy to Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture England ? Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning War. Some six miles off the duke is with the heart :
soldiers : Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great And for your brother,--he was lately sent burden ;
From your kind anni, duchess of Burgundy, For selfsame wind, that I should speak withal, With aid of soldiers to this needful war. Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant War. And burn me up with flames that tears would wick fled: querch.
Oft have I heard his praises in pursnit, To weep, is to make less the depth of grief; But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire. Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge, for War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou me!
hear; Richard, I bear thy name, 1'11 venge thy death, For thou shalt krow this strong right hand of Or die renowned by attempting it.
mine Edw. His name that valiant duke bath left Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, with thee;
And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, His dukedom and his chair with me is left. Were he as famous and as bold in war, Rich Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer. Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : Rich. I know it well, Lord Warwick : blame For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; me not ; Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak. March. Enter Warwick and Montague, with But, in this troublous time, what's to be done ?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, Forces.
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, War. How now, fair lords ? What fare? what Numb'ring our Ave-Maries with our beader news abroad?
Or shall we on the helmets of our foca
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms 1 And doves will peck, in safegnard of their brood. If for the last, say-Ay, and to it, lords.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown, War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek Thou sıniling, while he knit his angry brows: you out;
He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And therefore comes my brother Montague. And raise bis issue, like a loving sire; Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland, Did'st yield consent to disinherit him, And of their feather, many more prond biris, Which'argued thee a most unloving father. Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. Unreasonable creatures feed their young: He swore consent to your succession,
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, His oat'ı enrolled in the parliament;
Yet, in protection of their tender ones, And now to London all the crew are gone, Who hath not seen them (even with those wings To frustrate both his oath, and what beside Which sometime they have us'd with fearful May make against the house of Lancaster.
fight,). Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong; Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, Offering their own lives in their young's defence? With all the friends that thou, brave earl of For shame, my liege, make them your precedenti March,
Were it not pity that this goodly boy Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; Will but amount to live and twenty thousand, And long hereafter say unto his child, Why, Via ! to London will we march amain; What my great grandfather and grandsire got. And once again bestride our foaming steeds, My careless father fondly gave away? And once again cry-Charge upon our foes i Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy ; But never once again turn back, and fly. And let his manly face, which promiseth Rich. Ay, now, methiuks, I hear great War Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, wick speuk :
To hold thine own, and leave thine own with Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day
him. That cries-Retire, if Warwick bid hii stay. K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force. And when thon fall'st, (as God forbid the hour!) But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend! That things ill got had ever bad success ? War. No longer earl of March, but duke of And happy always was it for that son, York ;
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell ? The next degree is, England's royal throne ; I'll leave my son uy virtuous deeds behind; For king of England shalt thou be proclaiın'd And 'would, my father had left me no more! In every borough as we pass along;
For all the rest is held at such a rate, And he that throws not up his cap for joy,
As brings a thousand fold more care to keep, Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. Than in possession any jot of pleasure. King Edward, -valiant Richard, -Montague, - Ah, cousin York ! 'would thy best friends did Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,
know, But sound the trumpets, and about our task. How it doth grieve me that thy head is here ! Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits ; oor as steel,
foes are nigh, (As thou hast shown it flinty, by thy deeds.) And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ; Edw. Then strike up, drums ; - God and Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. Saint George, for us !
Edward, kneel down.
K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight ; Enter a Messenger.
And learn this lesson, --Draw thy sword in right War. How now, what news?
Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word leave,
I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness : SCENE II. Before York.
For, with a hand of thirty thousand men, Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, the Prince Comes Warwick, backing of the duke
of York, of Wales, Clifford, and Northumberland, with And, in the towns as they do march along,
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him : Forces.
Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave Clif. I would, your highness would depart the town of York.
field : Yonder's the head of that arch enemy,
The queen hath best success, when you are ab That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: sent. Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord ? Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear our fortune. their wreck,
K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too ; there To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
fore I'll stay. Withhold revenge, dear Gud ! 'tis pot my fault, North. Be it with resolution then to fight. Not wittingly have 1 infringed my vow.
Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble Clif: My gracious liege, this too much lenity lords, And harmful pity, must be laid aside.
And hearten those that fight in yonr defence : To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would surp their den.
Unsheath your sword, good father ; cry, Saint Whose hand is that the forest bear doth liek ?
George! Not his, that spoils her young before her face. March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, War Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? wick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers Not he, that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on
Edu. Now, perjur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel