Glo. And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. | The lamb will never cease to follow him.
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand;
The bruit whereof will bring you many friends.
K. Edw. Then be it as you will: For 't is my right,
And Henry but usurps the diadem.
[Shout within. A Lancaster! a Lancaster ! Exe. Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these? Enter King Edward, Gloster, and Soldiers.
K. Edw. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence,
Mont. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself;
And now will I be Edward's champion. [claim'd:
And once again proclaim us king of England.
Hast. Sound, trumpet; Edward shall be here pro-You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow;
Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation.
Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry,
[Gives him a paper, Flourish. And swell so much the higher by their ebb.
Sold. [Reads.] Edward the Fourth, by the grace Hence with him to the Tower; fet him not speak.
of God, king of England and France, and lord of
[Exeunt some with King Henry.
Ireland,' &c.
And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course,
Mont. And whosoe'er gainsays king Edward's Where peremptory Warwick now remains:
By this I challenge him to single fight. [right, The sun shines hot, and if we use delay
[Throws down his gauntlet. Cold-biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay.
All. Long live Edward the Fourth!
Glo. Away betimes, before his forces join,
K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery; And take the great-grown traitor unawares:
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
[Exeunt.
If fortune serve me I'll requite this kindness.
Now, for this night, let 's harbour here in York:
And, when the morning sun shall raise his car
Above the border of this horizon,
We'll forward towards Warwick, and his mates;
For, well I wot that Henry is no soldier.
Ah, froward Clarence !-how evil it beseems thee
To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother!
Yet, as we may, we 'll meet both thee and Warwick.
Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day;
And that once gotten doubt not of large pay. [Exe.
SCENE VIII.-London. A Room in the Palace.
Enter King Henry, Warwick, Clarence, Montague,
Exeter, and Oxford.
War. What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas,
And with his troops doth march amain to London;
And many giddy people flock to him.
Oxf. Let's levy men, and beat him back again.
Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out;
Which being suffer'd rivers cannot quench.
War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war;
Those will I muster up: and thou, son Clarence,
Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find
Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st:
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.
My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
Shall rest in London, till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.
Farewell, my sovereign.
[hope.
K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true
Clar. In sign of truth I kiss your highness' hand.
K. Hen. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
Mont. Comfort, my lord;-and so I take my leave.
Oxf. And thus (kissing Henry's hand ] I seal my
truth, and bid adieu.
K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
War. Farewell, sweet lords; let 'sineet at Coventry.
[Exeunt War., Clar., Oxf., and Mont.
K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest a while.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship?
Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
Should not be able to encounter mine.
Exe. The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.
K. Hen. That 's not my fear, my meed hath got
me fame.
I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears:
I have not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies,
Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd;
Then why should they love Edward more than me?
No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace:
And when the lion fawns upon the lamb
Enter, upon the walls, Warwick, the Mayor of
Coventry, two Messengers, and others.
War. Where is the post that came from valiant
Oxford?
How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
1 Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.
War. How far off is our brother Montague?
Where is the post that came from Montague?
2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.
Enter Sir John Somerville.
War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son?
And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
Som. At Southam I did leave him with his forces,
And do expect him here some two hours hence.
[Drum heard.
War. Then Clarence is at hand; I hear his drum.
Som. It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies;
The drum your honour hears marcheth from War-
wick.
[friends.
War. Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for
Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.
Drums. Enter King Edward, Gloster, and Forces,
marching.
K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle.
Glo. See, how the surly Warwick mans the wall. War. O, unbid spite! is sportful Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could hear no news of his repair? [gates,K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee,Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy,And he shall pardon thee these outrages? [hence,War. Nay, rather, wilt thou dráw thy forces Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down,Call Warwick patron, and be penitent,And thou shalt still remain the duke of York? Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said the king; Or did he make the jest against his will? War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give; I'll do thee service for so good a gift. War. 'T was I that gave the kingdom to thy (gift. K. Edw. Why then 't is mine, if but by Warwick's War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. K. Edw. But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner: And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this, What is the body when the head is off?
Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, But whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The king was slyly finger'd from the deck! You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace, And, ten to one, you 'll meet him in the Tower. K. Edw. 'T is even so; yet you are Warwick still. Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel down,
Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools. War. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face,
Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee. K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend;
This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, Shall, whiles thy head is warm, and new cut off, Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more. Enter Oxford, with drum and colours. War. O cheerful colours! see, where Oxford comes! xf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!
Oxford and his Forces enter the City. Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too. K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our backs. Stand we in good array; for they, no doubt, Will issue out again and bid us battle: If not, the city, being but of small defence, We 'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same. War. O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help. Enter Montague, with drum and colours. Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster! [He and his Forces enter the City. Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory:
My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest.
Enter Somerset, with drum and colours.
Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!
[He and his Forces enter the City. Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York; And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.
Enter Clarence, with drum and colours.
War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps
Of force enough to bid his brother battle; [along,
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails,
More than the nature of a brother's love:
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt if Warwick call.
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this
means? [Taking the red rose out of his cap.
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee:
I will not ruinate my father's house,
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,
And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother and his lawful king?
Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath:
To keep that oath were more impiety
Than Jephtha's, when he sacrificed his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass made,
That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
1 here proclaim myself thy mortal foe;
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee if thou stir abroad,)
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends;
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more
belov'd,
Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.
Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like.
War. O passing traitor, perjur'd, and unjust!
K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town
and fight?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
1 will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st. [way:
K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the
Lords, to the field; Saint George, and victory.
[March. Exeunt.
SCENE II-A Field of Battle near Barnet.
Alarums and Excursions. Enter King Edward
bringing in Warwick, wounded.
K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our
For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.
Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.
War. Ah, who is nigh? come to me friend or foe,
And tell me who is victor, York, or Warwick?
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows,
That I must yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun [veil,
To search the secret treasons of the world:
The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
For who liv'd king but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow?
Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and of all my lands
Is nothing left me, but my body's length!
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
Enter Oxford and Somerset.
Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are
We might recover all our loss again. [power;
The queen from France hath brought a puissant
Even now we heard the news: Ah, could'st thou fly!
War. Why, then I would not fly.-Ah, Montague,
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,"
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!
Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst,
Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood
Come, quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
That glues my lips, and will not let me speak.
Som. Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his
And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, [last;
And said, Commend me to my valiant brother.
And more he would have said; and more he spoke,
That might not be distinguish'd; but, at last,
Which sounded like a cannon in a vault,
I well night here deliver'd with a groan,
O, farewell, Warwick!
War.
Fly, lords, and save yourselves; for Warwick bids
You all farewell, to meet in heaven.
Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great power.
[Exeunt, bearing off Warwick's body.
SCENE III.-Another part of the Field.
Flourish. Enter King Edward, in triumph; with
Clarence, Gloster, and the rest.
K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. [course, But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed:
I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud,
And blow it to the source from whence it came:
Thy very beams will dry those vapours up;
For every cloud engenders not a storm.
Glo. The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her;
If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends, That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury; We, having now the best at Barnet field, Will thither straight, for willingness rids way: And, as we march, our strength will be augmented In every county as we go along. Strike up the drum; cry, Courage! and away. [Exe. SCENE IV.-Plains near Tewkesbury. March. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and Soldiers.
Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,
But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. What, though the mast be now blown overboard,
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood,
Yet lives our pilot still: Is 't meet that he
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad,
With tearful eyes add water to the sea,
And give more strength to that which hath too much;
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,
Which industry and courage might have sav'd?
Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor: what of that?
And Montague our top-mast; what of him?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast?
The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?
And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?
We will not from the helm, to sit and weep;
But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack.
As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.
And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock?
All these the enemies to our poor bark.
Say, you can swin; alas, 't is but awhile:
Tread on the sand; why then you quickly sink:
Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that 's a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
If case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hoped-for mercy with the brothers,
More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.
Why, courage, then what cannot be avoided
'T were childish weakness to lament or fear.
Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit
Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.
I speak not this as doubting any here:
For did I but suspect a fearful inan,
He should have leave to go away betimes;
Lest, in our need, he might infect another
And inake him of like spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid!
Let him depart, before we need his help.
Oxf. Women and children of so high a courage!
And warriors faint! why, 't were perpetual shame.
O, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather
Doth live again in thee: Long may'st thou live,
To bear his image, and renew his glories!
Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope
Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.
[thanks.
Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset ;-sweet Oxford,
Prince. And take his thanks that yet hath nothing|
else.
Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand,
Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.
Oxf. I thought no less: it is his policy
To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.
Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness. [ness.
Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your forward-
Oxf. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.
March. Enter, at a distance, King Edward,
Clarence, Gloster, and Forces.
K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny
wood,
Which, by the heavens' assistance, and your strength,
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out:
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords. [should say
Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I
My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,
Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice; then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.
SCENE V.-Another Part of the same. Alarums: Excursions: and afterwards a retreat. Then, enter King Edward, Clarence, Gloster, and Forces: with Queen Margaret, Oxford, and Somerset, prisoners.
K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils.
Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.
Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
[Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded.
Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that who finds Ed.
Shall have a high reward, and he his life? [ward
Glo. It is: and lo, where youthful Edward coines.
Enter Soldiers, with Prince Edward.
K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him
What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? [speak.
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitiousYork!
Suppose that I am now my father's mouth;
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thec,
Which, traitor, thou would'st have me answer to.
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd!
Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat,
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night;
His currish riddles sort not with this place.
Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word.
Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.
Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back
rather.
[tongue.
K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your
Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.
Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful:
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,
And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all,
I am your better, traitors as ye are;
And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.
K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here.
Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony. [Glo. stabs him.
Clar. And there 's for twitting me with perjury.
Q. Mar. O, kill me too!
Glo. Marry, and shall.
[Clar. stabs him. [Offers to kill her. K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much. [words? Glo. Why should she live to fill the world with K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means for
Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;
I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Cla. What? what?
Glo. The Tower! the Tower!
Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother,
boy!
Canst thou not speak?-O traitors! murtherers!-
They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man: this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak:
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse:
But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,
As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young
prince!
[force.
K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence per-
Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me
Glo. I'll hear no more:-Die, prophet, in thy speech: [Stabs him.
Here sheathe thy sword, I'll'pardon thee my death: Thou cam'st-
What! wilt thou not?-then, Clarence, do it thou.
Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do
thou do it.
[do it?
Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not
Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:
was sin before, but now 't is charity.
What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,
Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here: Murther is thy alms-deed;
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back.
K. Edw. Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence.
Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this
prince!
[Exit, led out forcibly.
K. Edi. Where 's Richard gone?
Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess,
To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
With pay and thanks, and let 's away to London,
And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.
SCENE VI.-London. A Room in the Tower. King Henry is discovered sitting, with a book in his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter Gloster. Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard? [say, rather: K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should 'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better: Good Gloster and good devil were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer. [Exit Lieutenant. K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf:
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
K. Hen. The bird that hath been lined in a bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush:
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye, [kill'd.
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and
Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl;
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.
K. Hen. 1, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic history.
But wherefore dost thou come? is 't for my life?
Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art;
If murthering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.
Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies.
Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
O, may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house!
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 't is true that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd: and the women cried,
'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!'
And so I was; which plainly signified
That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word love, which greybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light;
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
SCENE VII.-The same. A Room in the Palace.
King Edward is discovered sitting on his throne;
Queen Elizabeth, with the infant Prince, Clarence,
Gloster, Hastings, and others, near him.
K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal
Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies. [throne,
What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride!
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;
And two Northumberlands: two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound:
With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Mon-
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion, [tague,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night;
Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace;
K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy,-that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,—
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands',
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,-
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees;
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an indigested and deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
To signify thou com'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Glo. I'll blast his harvest if your head were laid; For yet I am not look'd on in the world. This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave; And heave it shall some weight, or break my back: Work thou the way, and that shall execute. [Aside. K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely
And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
K. Edw, Away with her, and waft her hence to
France.
And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
Such as befit the pleasure of the court?
Sound, drums and trumpets -farewell, sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [Exeunt.
PERSONS REPRESENTED.
EARL OF SURREY, his son.
EARL RIVERS, brother to King
Edward's Queen.
MARQUIS OF DORSET
LORD GREY, her sons.
EARL OF OXFORD. LORD
HASTINGS. LORD STANLEY.
LORD LOVEL. Sir THOMAS
Sir RICHARD RATCLIFF.
WILLIAM CATESBY.
ELIZABETH, Queen of King Ed
ward IV.
MARGARET, widow of King
Henry VI.
DUCHESS OF YORK, mother to
King Edward IV., Clarence, and
Gloster.
Lady ANNE, widow of Edward,
Prince of Wales, son to King
Henry VI.; afterwards mar-
ried to the Duke of Gloster.
Sir JAMES TYRREL. Sir JAMES A young daughter of Clarence.
ROBERT BRAKENBURY,
Lieutenant of the Tower.
Arch- CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a
JOHN MORTON, Bishop of Ely.
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM,
DUKE OF NORFOLK.
Another Priest.
Lord Mayor of London.
Sheriff of Wiltshire.
SCENE I.-London. A Street.
Enter Gloster.
Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent
Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
And all the clouds that low'r'd upon our house
In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
Our bruised arms hung up for nonuments;
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings;
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
And now, instead of mounting barbed steeds,
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
He capers ninbly in a lady's chamber,
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks,
Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;-
1, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;-
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;-
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to see my shadow in the sun,
And descant on mine own deformity.
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And, if king Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
About a prophecy, which says, that G
Of Edward's heirs the murtherer shall be. [comes.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence
Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbury. Brother, good day: What means this armed guard
Lords, and other Attendants; two Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, &c.
That waits upon your grace?
Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
This conduct to convey me to the Tower.
Glo. Upon what cause!
Clar.
Because my name is George.
Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:-
O, belike, his majesty hath some intent
That you should be new christen'd in the Tower.
But what 's the matter, Clarence? may I know?
Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest
As yet I do not: But, as I can learn,
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G,
And says, a wizard told him, that by G
His issue disinherited should be;
And, for my name of George begins with G,
It follows in his thought that I am he:
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these,
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now.
Glo. Why, this it is when men are rul'd by women;
"T is not the king that sends you to the Tower;
My lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 't is she
That tempers him to this extremity.
Was it not she and that good man of worship
Antony Woodville, her brother there,
That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower,
From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe.
Clar. By heaven, I think there is no man secure
But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds
That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore.
Heard you not what an humble suppliant
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery?
Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity
Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
I'll tell you what,-I think it is our way,
If we will keep in favour with the king,
To be her men and wear her livery:
The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen,
Are mighty gossips in our monarchy.
Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me;
His majesty hath straitly given in charge
That no man shall have private conference,
Of what degree soever, with his brother.
Glo. Even so; an please your worship,'Brakenbury,
You may partake of anything we say:
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