Part 21

_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, ·cba050· And stood against them, as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have enter’d Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber’d oak. [cba055] By many hands your father was subdued; But only slaughter’d by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen, Who crown’d the gracious duke in high despite, Laugh’d in his face; and when with grief he wept, ·cba060· The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks [cba061] A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: And after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the gates of York ·cba065· They set the same; and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e’er I view’d.

_Edw._ Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. O Clifford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain ·cba070· The flower of Europe for his chivalry; And treacherously hast thou vanquish’d him, For hand to hand he would have vanquish’d thee. Now my soul’s palace is become a prison: Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body ·cba075· Might in the ground be closed up in rest! For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, O never, shall I see more joy!

_Rich._ I cannot weep; for all my body’s moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: ·cba080· Nor can my tongue unload my heart’s great burthen; For selfsame wind that I should speak withal [cba082] Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, [cba083] And burns me up with flames that tears would quench. To weep is to make less the depth of grief: ·cba085· 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 hath left with thee; His dukedom and his chair with me is left. ·cba090·

_Rich._ Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird, Show thy descent by gazing ’gainst the sun: For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. [cba094]

_March. Enter_ WARWICK, MARQUESS OF MONTAGUE, _and their army_.

_War._ How now, fair lords! What fare? what news abroad? [cba095]

_Rich._ Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount [cba096] Our baleful news, and at each word’s deliverance Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain! ·cba100·

_Edw._ O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet, [cba101] Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption, Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.

_War._ Ten days ago I drown’d these news in tears; And now, to add more measure to your woes, ·cba105· I come to tell you things sith then befall’n. [cba106] After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depart. ·cba110· I, then in London, keeper of the king, Muster’d my soldiers, gather’d flocks of friends, And very well appointed, as I thought, [cba113] March’d toward Saint Alban’s to intercept the queen, [cba114] Bearing the king in my behalf along; ·cba115· For by my scouts I was advertised That she was coming with a full intent To dash our late decree in parliament Touching King Henry’s oath and your succession. Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban’s met, ·cba120· Our battles join’d, and both sides fiercely fought: But whether ’twas the coldness of the king, Who look’d full gently on his warlike queen, That robb’d my soldiers of their heated spleen; [cba124] Or whether ’twas report of her success; ·cba125· Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigour, Who thunders to his captives blood and death, [cba127] I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth, Their weapons like to lightning came and went; Our soldiers’, like the night-owl’s lazy flight, [cba130] Or like an idle thresher with a flail, [cba131] Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. I cheer’d them up with justice of our cause, [cba133] With promise of high pay and great rewards: [cba134] But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, ·cba135· And we in them no hope to win the day; So that we fled; the king unto the queen; Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself, [cba138] In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; For in the marches here we heard you were, ·cba140· Making another head to fight again.

_Edw._ Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England?

_War._ Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers; [cba144] And for your brother, he was lately sent ·cba145· From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war.

_Rich._ ’Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled: Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne’er till now his scandal of retire. ·cba150·

_War._ Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head, And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war ·cba155· As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.

_Rich._ I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not: ’Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. [cba158] But in this troublous time what’s to be done? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, ·cba160· And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords. ·cba165·

_War._ Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many moe proud birds, [cba170] Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. He swore consent to your succession, His oath enrolled in the parliament; And now to London all the crew are gone, To frustrate both his oath and what beside ·cba175· May make against the house of Lancaster. Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong: Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself, With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March, Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, [cba180] Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, Why, Via! to London will we march amain, [cba182] And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry ‘Charge upon our foes!’ [cba184] But never once again turn back and fly. ·cba185·

_Rich._ Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak: Ne’er may he live to see a sunshine day, That cries ‘Retire,’ if Warwick bid him stay. [cba188]

_Edw._ Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; [cba189] And when thou fail’st--as God forbid the hour!-- [cba190] Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend!

_War._ No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York: The next degree is England’s royal throne; [cba193] For King of England shalt thou be proclaim’d In every borough as we pass along; ·cba195· And he that throws not up his cap for joy [cba196] Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, [cba198] Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets, and about our task. ·cba200·

_Rich._ Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.

_Edw._ Then strike up drums: God and Saint George for us!

_Enter a_ Messenger.

_War._ How now! what news? ·cba205·

_Mess._ The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, The queen is coming with a puissant host; And craves your company for speedy counsel.

_War._ Why then it sorts, brave warriors, let’s away. [cba209] [_Exeunt._

## SCENE II. _Before York_.

_Flourish. Enter_ KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, _the_ PRINCE OF WALES, CLIFFORD, _and_ NORTHUMBERLAND, _with drum and trumpets_.

_Q. Mar._ Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. [cbb001] Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy [cbb002] That sought to be encompass’d with your crown: Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?

_K. Hen._ Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck: ·cbb005· To see this sight, it irks my very soul. Withhold revenge, dear God! ’tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow. [cbb008]

_Clif._ My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. [cbb010] To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who ’scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting? ·cbb015· Not he that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown, Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows: [cbb020] He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue, like a loving sire; Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, Which argued thee a most unloving father. ·cbb025· Unreasonable creatures feed their young; And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes, Yet, in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them, even with those wings Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, [cbb030] Make war with him that climb’d unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young’s defence? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! [cbb033] Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault, ·cbb035· And long hereafter say unto his child, ‘What my great-grandfather and grandsire got [cbb037] My careless father fondly gave away’? Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; [cbb039] And let his manly face, which promiseth ·cbb040· Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart [cbb041] To hold thine own and leave thine own with him. [cbb042]

_K. Hen._ Full well hath Clifford play’d the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear ·cbb045· That things ill-got had ever bad success? [cbb046] And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? [cbb048] I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; And would my father had left me no more! ·cbb050· For all the rest is held at such a rate As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep Than in possession any jot of pleasure. [cbb053] Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! ·cbb055·

_Q. Mar._ My lord, cheer up your spirits: our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. [cbb057] You promised knighthood to our forward son: Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down. ·cbb060·

_K. Hen._ Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right.

_Prince._ My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I’ll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death. ·cbb065·

_Clif._ Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.

_Enter a_ Messenger.

_Mess._ Royal commanders, be in readiness: For with a band of thirty thousand men Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York; And in the towns, as they do march along, ·cbb070· Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. [cbb072]

_Clif._ I would your highness would depart the field: The queen hath best success when you are absent.

_Q. Mar._ Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. ·cbb075·

_K. Hen._ Why, that’s my fortune too; therefore I’ll stay.

_North._ Be it with resolution then to fight.

_Prince._ My royal father, cheer these noble lords And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry ‘Saint George!’ [cbb080]

_March. Enter_ EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, _and_ Soldiers.

_Edw._ Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, [cbb081] And set thy diadem upon my head; Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

_Q. Mar._ Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms ·cbb085· Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?

_Edw._ I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent: Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, [cbb089] You, that are king, though he do wear the crown, ·cbb090· Have caused him, by new act of parliament, To blot out me, and put his own son in.

_Clif._ And reason too: Who should succeed the father but the son?

_Rich._ Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak! [cbb095]

_Clif._ Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort.

_Rich._ ’Twas you that kill’d young Rutland, was it not?

_Clif._ Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.

_Rich._ For God’s sake, lords, give signal to the fight. ·cbb100·

_War._ What say’st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? [cbb101]

_Q. Mar._ Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Alban’s last, Your legs did better service than your hands.

_War._ Then ’twas my turn to fly, and now ’tis thine. ·cbb105·

_Clif._ You said so much before, and yet you fled.

_War._ ’Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.

_North._ No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.

_Rich._ Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain [cbb110]

The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. [cbb112]

_Clif._ I slew thy father, call’st thou him a child?

_Rich._ Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; ·cbb115· But ere sunset I’ll make thee curse the deed. [cbb116]

_K. Hen._ Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

_Q. Mar._ Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.

_K. Hen._ I prithee, give no limits to my tongue: I am a king, and privileged to speak. ·cbb120·

_Clif._ My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here [cbb121] Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still.

_Rich._ Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword: [cbb123] By him that made us all, I am resolved That Clifford’s manhood lies upon his tongue. ·cbb125·

_Edw._ Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, That ne’er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.

_War._ If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; For York in justice puts his armour on. ·cbb130·

_Prince._ If that be right which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

_Rich._ Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; [cbb133] For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother’s tongue.

_Q. Mar._ But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam; ·cbb135· But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic, Mark’d by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads, or lizards’ dreadful stings. [cbb138]

_Rich._ Iron of Naples hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king,-- ·cbb140· As if a channel should be call’d the sea,-- [cbb141] Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?

_Edw._ A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, To make this shameless callet know herself. ·cbb145· Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne’er was Agamemnon’s brother wrong’d By that false woman, as this king by thee. His father revell’d in the heart of France, ·cbb150· And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop; And had he match’d according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day; But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day, ·cbb155· Even then that sunshine brew’d a shower for him, That wash’d his father’s fortunes forth of France, And heap’d sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broach’d this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; ·cbb160· And we, in pity of the gentle king, Had slipp’d our claim until another age.

_Geo._ But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root; ·cbb165· And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, We’ll never leave till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.

_Edw._ And, in this resolution, I defy thee; ·cbb170· Not willing any longer conference, [cbb171] Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. [cbb172] Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave. [cbb174]

_Q. Mar._ Stay, Edward. ·cbb175·

_Edw._ No, wrangling woman, we’ll no longer stay: [cbb176] These words will cost ten thousand lives this day. [cbb177] [_Exeunt._

## SCENE III. _A field of battle between Towton and Saxton,

in Yorkshire_.

_Alarum. Excursions. Enter_ WARWICK.

_War._ Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, [cbc001] I lay me down a little while to breathe; For strokes received, and many blows repaid, Have robb’d my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile. ·cbc005·

_Enter_ EDWARD, _running_.

_Edw._ Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death! For this world frowns, and Edward’s sun is clouded.

_War._ How now, my lord! what hap? what hope of good? [cbc008]

_Enter_ GEORGE.

_Geo._ Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; [cbc009] Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: ·cbc010· What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? [cbc011]

_Edw._ Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.

_Enter_ RICHARD.

_Rich._ Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, ·cbc015· Broach’d with the steely point of Clifford’s lance; And in the very pangs of death he cried, Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, ‘Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!’ So, underneath the belly of their steeds, [cbc020] That stain’d their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

_War._ Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: I’ll kill my horse, because I will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, ·cbc025· Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; [cbc026] And look upon, as if the tragedy [cbc027] Were play’d in jest by counterfeiting actors? [cbc028] Here on my knee I vow to God above, I’ll never pause again, never stand still, ·cbc030· Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine Or fortune given me measure of revenge. [cbc032]

_Edw._ O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! [cbc034] And, ere my knee rise from the earth’s cold face, ·cbc035· I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, [cbc040] And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where’er it be, in heaven or in earth. [cbc043]

_Rich._ Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, [cbc044] Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: ·cbc045· I, that did never weep, now melt with woe That winter should cut off our spring-time so.

_War._ Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell. [cbc048]

_Geo._ Yet let us all together to our troops, [cbc049] And give them leave to fly that will not stay; ·cbc050· And call them pillars that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games: [cbc053] This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; For yet is hope of life and victory. ·cbc055· Forslow no longer, make we hence amain. [_Exeunt._ [cbc056]

## SCENE IV. _Another part of the field_.

_Excursions. Enter_ RICHARD _and_ CLIFFORD.

_Rich._ Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: [cbd001] Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Wert thou environ’d with a brazen wall.

_Clif._ Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: ·cbd005· This is the hand that stabb’d thy father York; And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; And here’s the heart that triumphs in their death And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother To execute the like upon thyself; ·cbd010· And so, have at thee! [cbd011] [_They fight. Warwick comes; Clifford flies._

_Rich._ Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [_Exeunt._

## SCENE V. _Another part of the field_.

_Alarum. Enter_ KING HENRY _alone_.