The trembling lamb, environed with wolves. But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colours, Thus do I leave thee:-Come, son, let's away; Our army's ready; come, we'll after them. K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already; get thee gone. I'll see your grace: till then, I'll follow her. Q. Mar. Come, son, away; we may not linger thus. [Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET and the PRINCE. K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me, and to her son, Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Revenged may she be on that hateful duke; Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle, Tire* on the flesh of me, and of my son ! The loss of those three lords torments my heart: I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair;Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. Exe. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. [Exeunt. SCENE II.-A Room in Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE. Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible. Enter YORK. York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a strife? What is your quarrel? how began it first? Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention. York. About what? Rich. About that which concerns your grace and us; The crown of England, father, which is yours. * Peck. Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death. York. I took an oath, that he should quietly reign. Rich. No; God forbid, your grace should be forsworn. Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took That hath authority over him that swears: And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.- You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, Witty and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.- While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, And yet the king not privy to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster. Enter a MESSENGER. But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou in such post? She is hard by with twenty thousand men; And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou, that we fear them ? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me ;- * Wise. With powerful policy strengthen themselves, Enter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMER. The army of the queen mean to besiege us. Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in the field. Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. [Exit. A woman's general; What should we fear? [A march afar off. Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in order; And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. York. Five men to twenty-though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France, When as the enemy hath been ten to one; Why should I not now have the like success? [Alarum. Exeunt. SCENE III.-Plains near Sandal Castle. Alarums: Excursions. Enter RUTLAND, and his TUTOR. Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands! Ah, tutor! look where bloody Clifford comes ! Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers. Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Whose father slew my father, he shall die. Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. Tut. Ah, Clifford ! murder not this innocent child, [Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it fear, That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open them. Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws: And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die;I am too mean a subject for thy wrath, Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again; He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine, No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. Is as a fury to torment my soul; And till I root out their accursed line, [Lifting his hand. Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death : To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me! Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me? Rut. But 'twas ere I was born. Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith* God is just, He be as miserably slain as I. Ah, let me live in prison all my days; And when I give occasion of offence, Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. [CLIFFORD stabs him. Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ!† Clif Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. [Dies. [Exit. SCENE IV.-The same. Alarum.-Enter YORK. York. The army of the queen hath got the field: My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, Richard cried,-Charge! and give no foot of ground! * Since. † Heaven grant this may be your greatest boast! A sceptre! or an earthly sepulchre! With this, we charged again: but, out, alas! [A short alarum within. Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue; And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury: Here must I stay, and here my life must end. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, and Soldiers. Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumberland,— North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. York. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven, Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? York. O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again, Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand causes, [Draws. [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. [YORK is taken prisoner. *Boggled, bungled. † Point on the dial. VOL. III. P |