And be you silent and attentive too, K. Hen. Think'st thou, that I will leave my kingly throne, Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? Shall be my winding sheet.-Why faint you, lords? My title's good, and better far than his. War. But prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. K. Hen. Henry the fourth by conquest got the crown. York. 'Twas by rebellion against his king. K. Hen. I know not what to say; my title's weak. Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown :What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? War. Do right unto this princely duke of York; Or I will fill the house with armed men, He stamps and the Soldiers show them- K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, hear me but one word; Let me, for this my life-time, reign as king. York. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st. K. Hen. I am content: Richard Plantagenet, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince your son? War. What good is this to England and himself? 1. e. Detrimental to the general rights of hereditary royalty. Or live in peace, abandon'd and despis'd! [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD, and WESTMORELAND. War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. Exe. They seek revenge, and therefore will not yield. K. Hen. Ah! Exeter : War. Why should you sigh, my lord! K. Hen. Not for myself, lord Warwick, but my son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. ever; Conditionally, that here thou take an oath K. Hen. And long live thou, and these thy forward sons! York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. Exe, Accurs'd be he that seeks to mkae them foes! [Senet. The Lords come forward. York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger : I'll steal away. K. Hen. Exeter, so will I. [Going. Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee. K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. Q. Mar. Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah! wretched man! 'would I had died a maid, And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Rather than made that savage duke thine heir, • Betray, discover. to her son, Hath made her break out into terms of rage! I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair!- SCENE II.—A Room in Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire. Enter EDWARD, PICHARD, and MONTAGUE. Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. Edw. No, I can better play the orator. Enter YORK. York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Brother, thou shalt to London presently, rise : In them I trust; for they are soldiers, But that I seek occasion how to rise; 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 : Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me:- not: [Exit. Enter Sir JOHN and Sir HUGH MORTIMER. York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles, York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at you are come to Sandal in a happy hour a strife? What is your quarrel? how began it first? Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention. 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 of, 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, SCENE III.-Plains near Sandal Castle. Alarums: Excursions. Enter RUTLAND and his TUTOR. Rut. Ah! whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands? Ah! tator, look, where bloody Clifford comes ! Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers. Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him com pany. Clif. Soldiers, away with him. [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. [Exit. SCENE IV.-The same. York. The army of the queen hath got the field: My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; But this know, they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown, by life, or death. And full as oft came Edward to my side, Tat. Ah! Clifford, murder not this innocent Richard cried,—Charge! and give no foot of child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man. [Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Clif. How now I is he dead already? Or, is it fear, That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open pent-up lion o'er the them. Rut. So looks 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! geatle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threat'ning 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 father'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. thine Were not revenge sufficient for me; Is as a fury to torment my soul; [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 affords. Rut. 1 never did thee barm; Why wilt thou slay me? Clif. Thy father hath. Rut. But 'twas ere I was horn. Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; Ah! let me live in prison all my days; • Since. ground! And cried,-A crown, or else a glorious tomb. waves. And spend her strength with over-matching (A short Alarum within. Ah! hark! the fatal followers do pursue; 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, NORTHUMBERLAND, and Soldiers. And, if thou canst for blushing view this | And will you pale your head in Henry's glory. face: And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice, Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere word: But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thou- I would prolong awhile the traitor's life :Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland. North. Hold, Clifford; do not honour him so To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: [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'a 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.- Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, And rob his temples of the diadem, 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 How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex, thee To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom dcriv'd, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, Unless the adage must be verified, 'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; 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 To bid the father wipe his eyes witbal, [child, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible : Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rut-Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseland? Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, I pr'ythee grieve, to make me merry, York; dance. What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine en- That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? 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 him. Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. to [Putting a paper Crown on his Head. Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath ? Honest men. i Reached. 1 Handkerchief. less, For raging wind blows up incessant showers, quies; And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false French-woman. North. Besbrew me, but his passions me so, move That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, And say,-Alas, it was piteous deed!— curse; And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, I should not for my life but weep with him, Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland ? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death. [Stabbing him. Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. [Stabbing him. York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God ! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. [Dies. Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. news; Or, had he 'scaped, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape.- Methought he bore him in the thickest troop, 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. suns? That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, And over-shine the earth, as this the world. You love the breeder better than the male. Enter a MESSENGER. But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? Mess. Ah! one that was a woeful looker on, When as the noble duke of York was slain, Your princely father, and my loving lord. Edw. O speak no more! for I have heard too much. Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. Mess. Environed he was with many foes; But Hercules himself must yield to odds; Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept, The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to leas To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: Tears, then, for babes; blows and revenge for me! Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it. Edw. His name that valiant duke bath left with thee: His dukedom and his chair with me is le Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun; |