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K. Henry. My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word;
Tork. Confirm the Crown to me, and to mine Heirs,
Clif. What wrong is this unto the Prince, your Son?
Clif. How haft thou injur'd both thy self and us!
Clif. Come Coufir, let us tell the Queen thefe News.
North. Be thou a prey unto the House of York,
Clif. In dreadful War, may'ft thou be overcome, Of live in Peace abandon'd and defpis'd.
[Exeunt Nor. Cliff. Weftm.
War. Why should you figh, my Lord?
K. Henry. Not for my felf, Lord Warwick, but my Son,
The Crown to thee, and to thine Heirs for ever:
Exe. Accurft be he that feeks to make them Foes.
Norf. And I to Norfolk with my Followers.
Exe. Here comes the Queen,
K. Henry. Exeter fo will I:
Queen. Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee-
Prince. Father, you cannot difinherit me: If you be King, why fhould not I fucceed?
K. Henry. Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, fweet Son;. The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforc'd me.
Queen. Enforc'd thee? art thou King,and wilt be forc'd? I fhame to hear thee fpeak; ah timorous Wretch! Thou haft undone thy felf, thy Son, and me, And given unto the House of York fuch head, As thou shalt Reign but by their fufferance. To entail him and his Heirs unto the Crown, What is it, but to make thy Sepulchre, And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor, and the Lord of Calais, Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow Seas, The Duke is made Protector of the Realm, And yet fhalt thou be fafe? fuch fafety finds The trembling Lamb, invironed with Wolves. Had I been there, which am a filly Woman, The Soldiers fhould have tofs'd me on their Pikes, Before I would have granted to that A&t.
But thou preferr'ft thy Life before thine honour.
The Northern Lords, that have forfworn thy Colours,
K. Henry. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
K. Henry. Gentle Son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
Queen. Come, Son, away, we may not linger thus.
K. Henry. Poor Queen,
Exe. And I hope fhall reconcile them all.
Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.
York. Why, how now Sons and Brother, at a ftrife?
Edw. No Quarrel, but a flight Contention.
Rich. About that which concerns your Grace and us,
Tork. 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 out-run you, Father, in the end.
Tork. I took an Oath, that he fhould quietly Reign. Edw. But for a Kingdom any Oath may be broken: I would break a thoufand Oaths to Reign one Year. Rich. No; God forbid your Grace fhould be forfworn. York. I fall be, if I claim by open War.
Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. Tork. Thou can'ft not, Son, it is impoffible. Rich. An Oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful Magiftrate, That hath Authority over him that Swears. Henry had none, but did ufurp the Place. Then feeing 'twas he that made you to depofe, Your Oath, my Lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore to Arms: and, Father, do but think, How fweet a thing it is to wear a Crown, Within whofe Circuit is Elysium, And all that Poets feign of Blifs and Joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot reft, Until the white Rofe that I wear, be dy'd Even in the lukewarm Blood of Henry's Heart. Tork. Richard, enough: I will be King, or die. Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this Enterprize. Thou, Richard, fhalt go to the Duke of Norfolk, And tell him privily of our intent. You, Edward, hall unto my Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentifhmen will willingly rife. In them I truft; for they are Soldiers, Witty, courteous, liberal, full of Spirit. While you are thus employ'd, what refteth more, But that I feek occafion how to rife?
And yet the King not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the House of Lancaster.
But ftay. what News? why com'ft thou in fuch post?
With all the Northern Earls and Lords,
Mont. Brother, I go: I'll win them, fear it not. And thus moft humbly I do take my leave.
Sir John. She fhall not need, we'll meet her in the Field.
Rich. Ay, with five hundred, Father, for a need. A Woman's General; what fhould we fear?
[A march afar off.
Edw. I hear their Drums:
And iffue forth, and bid them Battel freight.
Many a Battel have I won in France,
Enter Rutland and his Tutor.
Rut. Ah, whether fhall I flie, to fcape their Hands?
Clif. Chaplain, away, thy Priesthood faves thy Life;
Tutor. And I, my Lord, will bear him Company.