That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, filled with a fretting gust,
Command an argosy to stem the waves.

But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape;
For, though before his face I speak the words,
Your brother Richard marked him for the grave;
And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.

[CLIFFORD groans, and dies. Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. Edw. See who it is; and now the battle's ended, If friend or foe, let him be gently used.

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford ; Who not contented that he lopped the branch

In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his murdering knife unto the root

From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring;

I mean our princely father, duke of York.

War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father's head, which Clifford placed there; Instead, whereof, let this supply the room;

Measure for measure must be answered.

Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours;

Now death shall stop his dismal, threatening sound,

And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

[Attendants bring the body forward. War. I think his understanding is bereft:

Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?Dark, cloudy, death o'ershades his beams of life,

And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say.

Rich. O, 'would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,

Because he would avoid such bitter taunts,

Which in the time of death he gave our father.

Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.
Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee.
Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now?
War. They mock thee, Clifford! swear as thou wast wont.
Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard,

When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath;
I know by that he's dead; and, by my soul,
If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
That I in all despite might rail at him,

This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain, whose unstanched thirst

York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

War. Ay, but he's dead. Off with the traitor's head,
And rear it in the place your father's stands.-
And now to London with triumphant march,
There to be crowned England's royal king.

From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France,
And ask the lady Bona for thy queen;

So shalt thou sinew both these lands together;

And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
The scattered foe, that hopes to rise again;

For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,

Yet look to have them buzz, to offend thine ears.
First, will I see thy coronation;

And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea,

To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.

Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; For on thy shoulder do I build my seat;

And never will I undertake the thing,

Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.
Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster;-

And George, of Clarence;-Warwick, as ourself,

Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of Gloster; For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.

War. Tut, that's a foolish observation;

Richard, be duke of Gloster. Now to London,

To see these honors in possession.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. A Chase in the North of England.

Enter two Keepers, with crossbows in their hands.

1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud our

selves;

For through this laund anon the deer will come;

And in this covert will we make our stand,
Culling the principal of all the deer.

2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy crossbow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best; And, for the time shall not seem tedious, I'll tell thee what befell me on a day,

In this self-place where now we mean to stand.

2 Keep. Here comes a man; let's stay till he be passed.
Enter KING HENRY, disguised, with a prayer-book.
K. Hen. From Scotland am I stolen, even of pure love,
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine;

Thy place is filled, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
Thy balm washed off, wherewith thou wast anointed;
No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right,
No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
For how can I help them, and not myself?

1 Keep Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities;

For wise men say, it is the wisest course.

2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands

upon him. 1 Keep. Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. K. Hen. My queen and son are gone to France for aid; And, as I hear, the great, commanding Warwick

Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister
To wife for Edward. If this news be true,
Poor queen, and, son, your labour is but lost;
For Warwick is a subtle orator,

And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words.
By this account, then, Margaret may win him;
For she's a woman to be pitied much;

Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse,

To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears.
Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give;
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry;
He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
She weeps, and says-her Henry is deposed;
He smiles, and says-his Edward is installed;

That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more;
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength;
And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,
With promise of his sister, and what else,
To strengthen and support king Edward's place.
O, Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul,

Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.

2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings and queens?

K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to; A man at least, for less I should not be;

And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough. 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is called content; A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crowned with content, Your crown content, and you, must be contented To go along with us; for, as we think,

You are the king king Edward hath deposed,
And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
Will apprehend you as his enemy.

K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an oath? 2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not now.

K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king of England?

2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now remain. K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old; My father and my grandfather were kings; And you were sworn true subjects unto me; And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths? 1 Keep. No;

For we were subjects but while you were king.

K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man
Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear.
Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust;
Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oaths; for of that sin

?

My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the king shall be commanded;
And be you kings; command, and I'll obey.

1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king Edward. K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry,

If he were seated as king Edward is.

1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in the king's, To go with us unto the officers.

K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name be

obeyed:

And what God will, then let your king perform;
And what he will, I humbly yield unto.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II. London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, and LADY GREY.

K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seized on by the conqueror: Her suit is now, to repossess those lands, Which we in justice cannot well deny, Because in quarrel of the house of York The worthy gentleman did lose his life.

Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant her suit; It were dishonor to deny it her.

K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. Glo. Yea! is it so?

I see, the lady hath a thing to grant,

Before the king will grant her humble suit.

Clar. He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind!

Glo. Silence!

[Aside. [Aside.

K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit; And come some other time, to know our mind.

L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay: May it please your highness to resolve me now; And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.

Glo. [Aside.] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant you all your lands,

And if what pleases him shall pleasure you.

Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow.

Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.
Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take vantages.

[Aside.

Aside.

K. Edw. How many children hast thou, widow? tell me.