And full as oft came Edward to my side, Edward, "A crown, or else a glorious tomb! With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas! We bodg'd2 again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, 20 And spend her strength with over-matching waves.] [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, North- Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, 30 Clif. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, With downright payment, show'd unto my father. [Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide prick.*] York. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all: [And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.] 1 Make a lane, cut his way. 3 Abide, await. [So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; } So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.] York. O Clifford, but bethink thee once again, [And in thy thought o'er-run my former time;; And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face, And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this! Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. [Drawing. Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford for a thousand causes 51 60 It is war's prize to take all vantages; And ten to one is no impeach of valour. [They lay hands on York, who struggles. Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.8 North. So doth the cony struggle in the net. [York is overpowered. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd 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, 5 To prick, i.e. as to prick. 6 Prize, prerogative. 7 Impeach impeachment. 2 Bodg'd, failed. Prick, i.e. hour. 8 Gin, trap. 9 True, honest. Made issue from the bosom of the boy; What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?] Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad; 90 And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Thou wouldst 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 to him: Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. [Putting a paper crown on his head. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! [Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair, And this is he was his adopted heir. . But how is it that great Plantagenet And will you pale1 your head in Henry's glory, Off with the crown; and, with the crown, his head; And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.2 Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he makes. 110 York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. 120 O tiger's heart wrapt in a woman's hide! To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, Bidd'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: [For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays, the rain begins.] These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies: And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman. North. Beshrew me, but his passions move That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: [This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this: [Giving back the handkerchief. And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, 160 Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Yea even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, And say "Alas, it was a piteous deed!"] There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse; [Taking off the paper crown. And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand!— [Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world: My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads!] [SCENE I. A plain near Mortimer's Cross. A march. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and their Forces. Edw. I wonder how our princely father scap'd, Or whether he be scap'd away, or no, From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit: Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; Or had he scap'd, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape.— Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd3 Methought he bore him in the thickest troop Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? 7 Dazzle mine eyes, i.e. are mine eyes dazzled? 8 Racking, drifting. 9 Meeds, merits. |