Part 36

_War._ Nor now my scandall _Richard_ dost thou heare, For thou shalt know that this right hand of mine, ·ead120· Can plucke the Diadem from faint _Henries_ head, And wring the awefull scepter from his fist: Were he as famous and as bold in warre, As he is famde for mildnesse, peace and praier.

_Rich._ I know it well Lord _Warwike_ blame me not, ·ead125· Twas loue I bare thy glories made me speake. But in this troublous time, whats to be done? [ead127] Shall we go throw away our coates of steele, And clad our bodies in blacke mourning gownes, Numbring our _Auemaries_ with our beades? ·ead130· Or shall we on the helmets of our foes, Tell our deuotion with reuengefull armes? _I_f for the last, saie _I_, and to it Lords.

_War._ Why therefore _Warwike_ came to find you out, And therefore comes my brother _Montague_. ·ead135· Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene, With _Clifford_, and the haught _Northumberland_, And of their feather manie mo proud birdes, [ead138] Haue wrought the easie melting king like waxe. He sware consent to your succession, ·ead140· His oath inrolled in the Parliament. But now to London all the crew are gone, To frustrate his oath or what besides [ead143] May make against the house of _Lancaster_. Their power _I_ gesse them fifty thousand strong. ·ead145· Now if the helpe of _Norffolke_ and my selfe, Can but amount to 48. thousand, [ead147] With all the friendes that thou braue earle of _March_, Among the louing Welshmen canst procure, Why via, To London will we march amaine, ·ead150· And once againe bestride our foming steedes, And once againe crie charge vpon the foe, But neuer once againe turne backe and flie.

_Rich._ I, now me thinkes I heare great _Warwike_ speake: Nere maie he liue to see a sunshine daie, ·ead155· _T_hat cries retire, when _Warwike_ bids him stay.

_Edw._ Lord _Warwike_, on thy shoulder will I leane, And when thou faints, must _Edward_ fall: [ead158] Which perill heauen forefend.

_War._ No longer Earle of _March_, but Duke of _Yorke_, ·ead160· The next degree, is Englands royall king: [ead161] And king of England shalt thou be proclaimde, In euery burrough as we passe along: And he that casts not vp his cap for ioie, Shall for the offence make forfeit of his head. [ead165] King _Edward_, valiant _Richard_, _Montague_, Stay we no longer dreaming of renowne, But forward to effect these resolutions.

Enter a Messenger.

_Mes._ The Duke of _Norffolke_ sends you word by me, The _Queene_ is comming with a puissant power, ·ead170· And craues your companie for speedie councell.

_War._ Why then it sorts braue Lordes. Lets march away. [ead172] _Exeunt Omnes._

## SCENE V.

Enter the _King_ and _Queene_, Prince _Edward_, and the Northerne Earles, with drum and Souldiers.

_Quee._ Welcome my Lord to this braue town of _York_. Yonders the head of that ambitious enemie, [eae002] That sought to be impaled with your crowne. Doth not the obiect please your eie my Lord?

_King._ Euen as the rockes please them that feare their wracke. ·eae005· Withhold reuenge deare God, tis not my fault, Nor wittinglie haue I infringde my vow.

_Clif._ My gratious Lord, this too much lenitie, And harmefull pittie must be laid aside, To whom do Lyons cast their gentle lookes? ·eae010· Not to the beast that would vsurpe his den. Whose hand is that the sauage Beare doth licke? Not his that spoiles his young before his face. Whose scapes the lurking serpentes mortall sting? [eae014] Not he that sets his foot vpon her backe. ·eae015· The smallest worme will turne being troden on, And Doues will pecke, in rescue of their broode. Ambitious _Yorke_ did leuell at thy Crowne, Thou smiling, while he knit his angrie browes. He but a Duke, would haue his sonne a king, ·eae020· And raise his issue like a louing sire. Thou being a king blest with a goodlie sonne, Didst giue consent to disinherit him, Which argude thee a most vnnaturall father. Vnreasonable creatures feed their yong, ·eae025· And though mans face be fearefull to their eies, Yet in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seene them euen with those same wings Which they haue sometime vsde in fearefull flight, Make warre with him, that climes vnto their nest, ·eae030· Offring their owne liues in their yongs defence? For shame my Lord, make them your president, Were it not pittie that this goodlie boy, should lose his birth right through his fathers fault? [eae034] And long hereafter saie vnto his child, ·eae035· What my great grandfather and grandsire got, My carelesse father fondlie gaue awaie? Looke on the boy and let his manlie face, Which promiseth successefull fortune to vs all, Steele thy melting thoughtes, ·eae040· To keepe thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him.

_King._ Full wel hath _Clifford_ plaid the Orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But tell me, didst thou neuer yet heare tell, That things euill got had euer bad successe, [eae045] And happie euer was it for that sonne, Whose father for his hoording went to hell? I leaue my sonne my vertuous deedes behind, And would my father had left me no more, For all the rest is held at such a rate, ·eae050· As askes a thousand times more care to keepe, Then maie the present profit counteruaile. Ah cosen _Yorke_, would thy best friendes did know, How it doth greeue me that thy head stands there.

_Quee._ My Lord, this harmefull pittie makes your followers faint. ·eae055· You promisde knighthood to your princelie sonne. Vnsheath your sword and straight doe dub him knight. [eae057] Kneele downe _Edward_.

_King._ _Edward Plantagenet_, arise a knight, And learne this lesson boy, draw thy sword in right [eae060]

_Prince._ My gratious father by your kingly leaue, Ile draw it as apparant to the crowne, And in that quarrel vse it to the death.

_Northum._ Why that is spoken like a toward prince.

Enter a Messenger.

_Mes._ Royall commaunders be in readinesse, ·eae065· For with a band of fiftie thousand men, Comes _Warwike_ backing of the Duke of _Yorke_. And in the townes whereas they passe along, Proclaimes him king, and manie flies to him, Prepare your battels, for they be at hand. ·eae070·

_Clif._ I would your highnesse would depart the field, The _Queene_ hath best successe when you are absent.

_Quee._ Do good my Lord, and leaue vs to our fortunes.

_King._ Why thats my fortune, therefore Ile stay still. [eae074]

_Clif._ Be it with resolution then to fight. ·eae075·

_Prince._ Good father cheere these noble Lords, Vnsheath your sword, sweet father crie Saint _George_.

_Clif._ Pitch we our battell heere, for hence wee will not moue.

Enter the house of _Yorke_.

_Edward._ Now periurde _Henrie_ wilt thou yeelde thy crowne, [eae079] And kneele for mercie at thy soueraignes feete? ·eae080·

_Queen._ Go rate thy minions proud insulting boy, Becomes it thee to be thus malepert, Before thy king and lawfull soueraigne?

_Edw._ _I_ am his king, and he should bend his knee, I was adopted heire by his consent. ·eae085·

_George._ Since when he hath broke his oath. For as we heare you that are king Though he doe weare the Crowne, Haue causde him by new act of Parlement [eae089] To blot our brother out, and put his owne son in. ·eae090·

_Clif._ And reason _George_. Who should succeede the father but the son? [eae091]

_Rich._ Are you their butcher? [eae092]

_Clif._ _I Crookbacke_, here I stand to answere thee, or any [eae093] of your sort.

_Rich._ Twas you that kild yong _Rutland_, was it not?

_Clif._ Yes, and old _Yorke_ too, and yet not satisfide. ·eae095·

_Rich._ For Gods sake Lords giue synald to the fight. [eae096]

_War._ What saiest thou _Henry_? wilt thou yeelde thy crowne?

_Queen._ What, long tongde _War._ dare you speake? [eae098] When you and _I_ met at saint _Albones_ last, Your legs did better seruice than your hands. ·eae100·

_War._ I, then twas my turne to flee, but now tis thine. [eae101]

_Clif._ You said so much before, and yet you fled. [eae102]

_War._ Twas not your valour _Clifford_, that droue mee thence. [eae103]

_Northum._ No, nor your manhood _Warwike_, that could make you staie. [eae104]

_Rich._ _Northumberland_, _Northumberland_, wee holde [eae105] Thee reuerentlie. Breake off the parlie, for scarse I can refraine the execution of my big swolne Hart, against that _Clifford_ there, that Cruell child-killer.

_Clif._ Why I kild thy father, calst thou him a child? ·eae110·

_Rich._ I like a villaine, and a trecherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother _Rutland_. But ere sunne set Ile make thee curse the deed. [eae113]

_King._ Haue doone with wordes great Lordes, and [eae114] Heare me speake.

_Queen._ Defie them then, or else hold close thy lips. ·eae115·

_King._ I prethe giue no limits to my tongue, I am a king and priuiledge to speake. [eae117]

_Clif._ My Lord the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cru’d with words, therefore be still. [eae119]

_Rich._ Then executioner vnsheath thy sword, ·eae120· By him that made vs all I am resolu’de, That _Cliffords_ manhood hangs vpon his tongue.

_Edw._ What saist thou _Henry_, shall _I_ haue my right or no? A thousand men haue broke their fast to daie, That nere shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the crowne. ·eae125·

_War._ If thou denie their blouds be on thy head, For _Yorke_ in iustice puts his armour on.

_Prin._ If all be right that _Warwike_ saies is right, There is no wrong but all things must be right.

_Rich._ Whosoeuer got thee, there thy mother stands, ·eae130· For well I wot thou hast thy mothers tongue.

_Queen._ But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam. But like a foule mishapen stygmaticke Markt by the destinies to be auoided, As venome Todes, or Lizards fainting lookes. [eae135]

_Rich._ Iron of _Naples_, hid with English gilt, Thy father beares the title of a king, As if a channell should be calde the Sea; Shames thou not, knowing from whence thou art de- [eae139] Riu’de, to parlie thus with Englands lawfull heires? ·eae140·

_Edw._ A wispe of straw were worth a thousand crowns, _T_o make that shamelesse callet know her selfe, Thy husbands father reueld in the hart of _France_, And tam’de the French, and made the Dolphin stoope: And had he macht according to his state, [eae145] He might haue kept that glorie till this daie. But when he tooke a begger to his bed, And gracst thy poore sire with his bridall daie, [eae148] Then that sun-shine bred a showre for him Which washt his fathers fortunes out of France, ·eae150· And heapt seditions on his crowne at home. For what hath mou’d these tumults but thy pride? Hadst thou beene meeke, our title yet had slept? [eae153] And we in pittie of the gentle king, Had slipt our claime vntill an other age. [eae155]

_George._ But when we saw our summer brought the gaine, [eae156] And that the haruest brought vs no increase, We set the axe to thy vsurping root, And though the edge haue something hit our selues, Yet know thou we will neuer cease to strike, ·eae160· Till we haue hewne thee downe, Or bath’d thy growing with our heated blouds.

_Edw._ And in this resolution, I defie thee, Not willing anie longer conference, [eae164] Since thou deniest the gentle king to speake. ·eae165· Sound trumpets, let our bloudie colours waue, And either victorie or else a graue.

_Quee._ Staie _Edward_ staie.

_Edw._ Hence wrangling woman, Ile no longer staie, [eae169] Thy words will cost ten thousand liues to daie. ·eae170· _Exeunt Omnes._ Alarmes.

## SCENE VI

Enter _Warwike_.

_War._ Sore spent with toile as runners with the race, _I_ laie me downe a little while to breath, _F_or strokes receiude, and manie blowes repaide, Hath robd my strong knit sinnews of their strength, And force perforce needes must _I_ rest my selfe. [eaf005]

Enter _Edward_.

_Edw._ Smile gentle heauens or strike vngentle death, That we maie die vnlesse we gaine the daie: What fatall starre malignant frownes from heauen Vpon the harmelesse line of _Yorkes_ true house?

Enter _George_.

_George._ Come brother, come, lets to the field againe, ·eaf010· For yet theres hope inough to win the daie: [eaf011] Then let vs backe to cheere our fainting Troupes, Lest they retire now we haue left the field. [eaf013]

_War._ How now my lords: what hap, what hope of good? [eaf014]

Enter _Richard_ running.

_Rich._ Ah _Warwike_, why haste thou withdrawne thy selfe? ·eaf015· Thy noble father in the thickest thronges, Cride still for _Warwike_ his thrise valiant son, Vntill with thousand swords he was beset, And manie wounds made in his aged brest, And as he tottring sate vpon his steede, [eaf020] He waft his hand to me and cride aloud: _Richard_, commend me to my valiant sonne, And still he cride _Warwike_ revenge my death, And with those words he tumbled off his horse, [eaf024] And so the noble Salsbury gave vp the ghost. ·eaf025·

_War._ Then let the earth be drunken with his bloud, _I_le kill my horse because I will not flie: And here to God of heauen I make a vow, Neuer to passe from forth this bloudy field Till I am full reuenged for his death. ·eaf030·

_Edw._ Lord _Warwike_, I doe bend my knees with thine, And in that vow now ioine my soule to thee, Thou setter vp and puller downe of kings, vouchsafe a gentle victorie to vs, Or let vs die before we loose the daie: [eaf035]

_George._ Then let vs haste to cheere the souldiers harts, And call them pillers that will stand to vs, [eaf037] And hiely promise to remunerate [eaf038] Their trustie seruice, in these dangerous warres.

_Rich._ Come, come awaie, and stand not to debate, ·eaf040· For yet is hope of fortune good enough. Brothers, giue me your hands, and let vs part And take our leaues vntill we meet againe, Where ere it be in heauen or in earth. Now I that neuer wept, now melt in wo, ·eaf045· To see these dire mishaps continue so. _Warwike_ farewel.

_War._ Awaie awaie, once more sweet Lords farewell. _Exeunt Omnes._

## SCENE VII.

Alarmes, and then enter _Richard_ at one dore and _Clifford_ at the other.

_Rich._ A _Clifford_ a _Clifford_.

_Clif._ A _Richard_ a _Richard_.

_Rich._ Now _Clifford_, for _Yorke_ & young _Rutlands_ death, This thirsty sword that longs to drinke thy bloud, Shall lop thy limmes, and slise thy cursed hart, [eag005] For to reuenge the murders thou hast made.

_Clif._ Now _Richard_, I am with thee here alone, This is the hand that stabd thy father _Yorke_, And this the hand that slew thy brother _Rutland_, And heres the heart that triumphs in their deathes, [eag010] And cheeres these hands that slew thy sire and brother, To execute the like vpon thy selfe, And so haue at thee.

## SCENE VIII.

Alarmes. They fight, and then enters _Warwike_ and rescues _Richard_, & then _exeunt omnes_.

Alarme still, and then enter _Henry solus_.

_Hen._ Oh gratious God of heauen looke downe on vs, And set some endes to these incessant griefes, How like a mastlesse ship vpon the seas, This woful battaile doth continue still, Now leaning this way, now to that side driue, ·eah005· And none doth know to whom the daie will fall. O would my death might staie these ciuill iars! [eah007] Would I had neuer raind, nor nere bin king, [eah008] _Margret_ and _Clifford_, chide me from the fielde, Swearing they had best successe when _I_ was thence. ·eah010· Would God that _I_ were dead so all were well, Or would my crowne suffice, I were content To yeeld it them and liue a priuate life.

Enter a souldier with a dead man in his armes.

_Sould_ Il blowes the wind that profits no bodie, _T_his man that I have slaine in fight to daie, ·eah015· Maie be possessed of some store of crownes, And I will search to find them if I can, But stay. Me thinkes it is my fathers face, Oh I tis he whom I haue slaine in fight, From London was I prest out by the king, ·eah020· My father he came on the part of _Yorke_, And in this conflict I haue slaine my father: Oh pardon God, I knew not what I did, And pardon father, for I knew thee not. [eah024]

Enter an other souldier with a dead man.

_2. Soul._ Lie there thou that foughtst with me so stoutly, ·eah025· Now let me see what store of gold thou haste, But staie, me thinkes this is no famous face: Oh no it is my sonne that _I_ haue slaine in fight, O monstrous times begetting such euents, How cruel bloudy, and ironious, [eah030] This deadlie quarrell dailie doth beget, Poore boy thy father gaue thee lif too late, [eah032] And hath bereau’de thee of thy life too sone.

_King_ Wo aboue wo, griefe more then common griefe, Whilst Lyons warre and battaile for their dens, ·eah035· Poore lambs do feele the rigor of their wraths: The red rose and the white are on his face, [eah037] The fatall colours of our striuing houses, Wither one rose, and let the other flourish, For if you striue, ten thousand liues must perish. ·eah040·

_1. Sould._ How will my mother for my fathers death, Take on with me and nere be satisfide?

_2. Sol._ How will my wife for slaughter of my son, [eah043] Take on with me and nere be satisfide?

_King._ How will the people now misdeeme their king, ·eah045· Oh would my death their mindes could satisfie.

_1. Sould._ Was euer son so rude his fathers bloud to spil?

_2. Soul._ Was euer father so vnnaturall his son to kill?

_King._ Was euer king thus greeud and vexed still?

_1. Sould._ Ile beare thee hence from this accursed place, ·eah050· For wo is me to see my fathers face. _Exit_ with his father.

_2. Soul._ Ile beare thee hence & let them fight that wil, For _I_ haue murdered where I should not kill. [eah053] _Exit_ with his sonne.

_K Hen._ Weepe wretched man, Ile lay thee teare for tear, Here sits a king as woe begone as thee. ·eah055·

Alarmes and enter the _Queene_.

_Queene._ Awaie my Lord to _Barwicke_ presentlie, The daie is lost, our friends are murdered, No hope is left for vs, therefore awaie. [eah058]

Enter prince _Edward_.

_Prince._ Oh father flie, our men haue left the field, Take horse sweet father, let us saue our selues. ·eah060·

Enter _Exeter_.

_Exet._ Awaie my Lord for vengeance comes along with him: [eah061] Nay stand not to expostulate make hast, Or else come after, Ile awaie before.

_K Hen._ Naie staie good _Exeter_, for Ile along with thee.

Enter _Clifford_ wounded with an arrow in his necke.

_Clif._ Heere burnes my candell out, ·eah065· That whilst it lasted gaue king _Henry_ light. Ah _Lancaster_, I feare thine ouerthrow, More then my bodies parting from my soule. My loue and feare glude manie friendes to thee, And now _I_ die, that tough commixture melts. ·eah070· Impairing _Henry_ strengthened misproud _Yorke_, The common people swarme like summer flies, And whither flies the Gnats but to the sun? [eah073] And who shines now but _Henries_ enemie? Oh _Phœbus_ hadst thou neuer giuen consent, ·eah075· That _Phæton_ should checke thy fierie steedes, Thy burning carre had neuer scorcht the earth. And _Henry_ hadst thou liu’d as kings should doe, And as thy father and his father did, Giuing no foot vnto the house of _Yorke_, ·eah080· I and ten thousand in this wofull land, Had left no mourning Widdowes for our deathes, And thou this daie hadst kept thy throne in peace. For what doth cherish weedes but gentle aire? And what makes robbers bold but lenitie? [eah085] Bootlesse are plaintes, and curelesse are my woundes, No waie to flie, no strength to hold our flight, The foe is mercilesse and will not pittie me, And at their hands _I_ haue deserude no pittie. The aire is got into my bleeding wounds, ·eah090· And much effuse of bloud doth make me faint, Come _Yorke_, and _Richard_, _Warwike_ and the rest, _I_ stabde your fathers, now come split my brest. [eah093]

Enter _Edward_, _Richard_, and _Warwike_, and Souldiers.

_Edw._ Thus farre our fortunes keepes an vpward [eah094] Course, and we are grast with wreathes of victorie. [eah095] Some troopes pursue the bloudie minded Queene, _T_hat now towards _Barwike_ doth poste amaine, But thinke you that _Clifford_ is fled awaie with them?

_War._ No, tis impossible he should escape, _F_or though before his face I speake the words, ·eah100· Your brother Richard markt him for the graue. And where so ere he be I warrant him dead.

_Clifford_ grones and then dies.

_Edw._ Harke, what soule is this that takes his heauy leaue?

_Rich._ A deadlie grone, like life and deaths departure.

_Edw._ See who it is, and now the battailes ended, ·eah105· Friend or foe, let him be friendlie vsed.

_Rich._ Reuerse that doome of mercie, for tis _Clifford_, Who kild our tender brother _Rutland_, And stabd our princelie father Duke of _Yorke_. [eah109]

_War._ From off the gates of _Yorke_ fetch down the [eah110] Head, Your fathers head which _Clifford_ placed there. Insteed of that, let his supplie the roome. [eah112] Measure for measure must be answered.

_Edw._ Bring forth that fatall scrichowle to our house, That nothing sung to vs but bloud and death, ·eah115· Now his euill boding tongue no more shall speake. [eah116]

_War._ I thinke his vnderstanding is bereft. Say _Clifford_, doost thou know who speakes to thee? Darke cloudie death oreshades his beames of life, And he nor sees nor heares vs what we saie. ·eah120·

_Rich._ Oh would he did, and so perhaps he doth, And tis his policie that in the time of death, [eah122] He might auoid such bitter stormes as he In his houre of death did give vnto our father.

_George._ _Richard_ if thou thinkest so, vex him with eager words. ·eah125·

_Rich._ _Clifford_, aske mercie and obtaine no grace.

_Edw._ _Clifford_, repent in bootlesse penitence.

_War._ _Clifford_ deuise excuses for thy fault.

_George._ Whilst we deuise fell tortures for thy fault.

_Rich._ Thou pittiedst _Yorke_, and I am sonne to _Yorke_. ·eah130·

_Edw._ Thou pittiedst _Rutland_, and I will pittie thee.

_George._ Wheres captaine _Margaret_ to fence you now? [eah132]

_War._ They mocke thee _Clifford_, sweare as thou wast wont.

_Rich._ What not an oth? Nay, then _I_ know hees dead. [eah134] Tis hard, when _Clifford_ cannot foord his friend an oath. ·eah135· By this I know hees dead, and by my soule, Would this right hand buy but an howres life, That I in all contempt might raile at him. Ide cut it off and with the issuing bloud, Stifle the villaine whose instanched thirst, ·eah140· _Yorke_ and young _Rutland_ could not satisfie.

_War._ _I_, but he is dead, off with the traitors head, And reare it in the place your fathers stands. And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned _Englands_ lawfull king. ·eah145· From thence shall _Warwike_ crosse the seas to _France_, And aske the ladie _Bona_ for thy _Queene_, So shalt thou sinew both these landes togither, And hauing _France_ thy friend thou needst not dread, [eah149] The scattered foe that hopes to rise againe. ·eah150· And though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet looke to haue them busie to offend thine eares. First He see the coronation done, And afterward He crosse the seas to _France_, To effect this marriage if it please my Lord [eah155]