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, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him; Darraign your battle, for they are at hand." Cliff. 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.

[stay. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll North. Be with resolution then to fight. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George! March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, Warwick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers. Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for And set thy diadem upon my head; [grace, 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, Before thy sovereign, and thy lawfu! 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, You that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament, To blot out me, and put his own son in. Cliff. And reason too;

Who should succeed the father, but the son?

Rich. Are you there, butcher ?-O, I cannot speak! Cliff, Ay, crook-back: here I stand, to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort. [it not? Rich. 'Twas you that killed young Rutland, was Cliff. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown ? [dare you speak? Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick? When you and I met at St. Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands.

War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. Cliff. You said so much before, and yet you fled. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.

[stay.

North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make you Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;Break off the parle; for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Cliff. 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; But, ere sunset, I'll make thee curse the deed. K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

Q. Mar. Dely them then, or else hold close thy lips. K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue; I am a king, and privileg'd to speak.

there, Cliff. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore, be still. Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: By him that made us all, I am resolv'd, That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. 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. [right, Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is There is no wrong, but every thing is right. Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands : For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor dam; But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic, Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king (As if a channel should be call'd the sea), Sham'st thou not,knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? Ede. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand

crowns,

To make this shameless callet know herself.-
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,
And tam'd 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 grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day;
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,
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
We set the axe to thy usurping root:
And that thy summer bred us no increase, [spring,
And though the edge bath something hit ourselves,
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down,
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.
Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee;
Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.-
Sound trumpets!-let our bloody colours wave !-
And either victory, or else a grave.

Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.

Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay: These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day.

[Exeunt,

SCENE III. A Field of Battle between Towton and Saxton, in Yorkshire.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter Warwick. War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe: For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, 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 bap? what hope of good?

Enter George. Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; What counsel give you, whither shall we fly? 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,
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,
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,
Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage;
And look upon, as if the tragedy

Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
Here on my knee I vow to God above,
I'll never pause again, never stand still,
Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine;
And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.-
And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
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,
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul !-
Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.

Rich. Brother, give me thy hand;-and, gentle WarLet me embrace thee in my weary arms: [wick, 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.

Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light.
O, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,
More than my body's parting with my soul.
My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee;
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.
Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,
The common people swarm like summer lies:
And whither Ay the gnats, but to the sun?
And who shines now, but Henry's enemies?
O Phoebus! hadst thou never given consent
That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth:
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
Or as thy father, and his father, did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies;
I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,
Had left no mourning widows for our death,
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold, but too much lanity?
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds;
No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight:
The foe is merciless, and will not pity;
For, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity.
The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint:-
Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest;
I stabb'd your father's bosom, split my breast.

[He faints. Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edward, George, Richard, Montague, Warwick, and Soldiers. Edw. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids

us pause,

And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ;-
That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Command an argosy to stem the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape:
For, though before his face I speak the words,
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave:
And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.
[Clifford groans and dies.
Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy
leave?

[ing.

Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death departEdw. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd.

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murdering knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, I mean our princely father, duke of York. (head, War. From off the gates of York fetch down the Your father's head, which Clifford placed there : Instead whereof, let this supply the room; Measure for measure must be answered.

Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house,

That nothing sung but death to us and ours:
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound,
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

[Attendants bring the Body forward. War. I think his understanding is bereft:Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee? Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. Rich. O'would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,

Because he would avoid such bitter taunts,
Which in the time of death he gave our father.
Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.
Rick. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
Edw. Thou pitied'st Ratland, I will pity thee.
Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now?
War. They mock thee, Clifford ! swear as thou wast
[hard,
Rich. What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes
When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath :-
I know by that, he's dead; And, by my soul,
If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
That I in all despite might rail at him, [blood
This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing

wont.

Stifle the villain, whose unstauched thirst
York and young Rutland conid not satisfy.
War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's head,
And rear it in the place your father's stands.-
And now to London with triumphant march,
There to be crowned England's royal king.
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France,
And ask the lady Bona for thy queen:

So shalt thou sinew both these lands together;
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buzz, to offend thine ears.
First, will I see the coronation:

And then to Britany I'll cross the sea,

To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be:
For on thy shoulder do I build my seat;
And never will I undertake the thing, a
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.-
Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster :-
And George, of Clarence ;-Warwick, as ourself,
Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.
Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of
For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.

[Gloster;

SCENE I. A Chase in the North of England. Enter two Keepers, with Cross-bows in their Hands. 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves;

For through this laund anon the deer will come;
And in this covert will we make our stand,
Culling the principal of all the deer.

2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best : And, for the time shall not seem tedious, I'll tell thee what befell me on a day, In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be past. Enter King Henry, disguised, with a Prayer-Book. K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure

love,

To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine;
Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed:
No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right,
No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
For how can I help them, and not myself?
1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's
This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him.
K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities;
For wise men say, it is the wisest course.

[fee:

2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him. 1 Keep. Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France for aid;

And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister
To wife for Edward: If this news be true,
Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost;
For Warwick is a subtle orator,

And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words.
By this account, then, Margaret may win him;
For she's a woman to be pitied much :
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears.
Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give:
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry;
He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
She weeps, and says-her Henry is depos'd;
He smiles, and says-his Edward is install'd;
That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more:
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,
Inferreth arguments of mighty strength;
And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,
With promise of his sister, and what else,
To strengthen and support king Edward's place.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with conYour crown content, and you, must be contented To go along with us: for, as we think, You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd; And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, Will apprehend you as his enemy.

[oath?

K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an 2 Keep. No, never such an oath; nor will not now. K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king of England? [main.

2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now reK. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old; My father, and my grandfather, were kings; And you were sworn true subjects unto me : And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths? 1 Keep. No;

For we were subjects, but while you were king.

K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man? Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust! Such is the lightness of you common men. But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; And be you kings; command, and I'll obey.

1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king EdK. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, [ward. If he were seated as king Edward is.

1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in the To go with us unto the officers. [king's,

K. Hen. In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd:

And what God will, then let your king perform; And what he will, I humbly yield unto. [Exeunt. SCENE II. London. A Room in the Palace. Enter King Edward, Gloster, Clarence, and Lady Grey.

K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at St. Albans' field This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror : Her suit is now, to repossess those lands; Which we in justice cannot well deny, Because in quarrel of the house of York The worthy gentleman did lose his life.

Glo. Your highness shall do well, to grant her suit; It were dishonour, to deny it her.

K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. [Aside to Clar.

Glo. Yea! is it so?

I see, the lady hath a thing to grant, Before the king will grant her humble suit. Clar. He knows the game; How true he keeps the wind! [Aside. Glo. Silence! [Aside.

K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit; And come some other time, to know our mind.

L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay :) May it please your highness to resolve me now; And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.

Glo. [Aside] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant you all your lands,

An if what pleases him, shall pleasure you. Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow. Clar. I fear her not, unless she chance to fall. [Aside. Glo. God forbid that! for he'll take vantages. [Aside.

K. Ed. How many children hast thou, widow? tell me.

Clar. I think he means to beg a child of her. [Aside. Glo. Nay, whip me then; he'll rather give her two. [Aside. L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord.

L. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. K. Edw. Lords, give us leave; I'll try this widow's wit. [leave.

Glo. Ay, good leave have you; for you will have Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. [Gloster and Clarence retire to the other Side. K. Ed. Now tell me, madam, do you love your children.

L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. K. Edw. And would you not do much, to do them good! [harm.

L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to do them

good.

service.

L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty.
K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got.
L. Grey. So shail you bind me to your highness'
[them?
K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I give
L.Grey. What you command, that rests in me to do.
K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon.
L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace
commands.

Glo. He plies her hard; and much rain wears the
marble.
[Aside.
Clar. As red as fire! nay then her wax must melt.
[Aside.

L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear any task?

K. Edw. An easy task; 'tis but to love a king. L. Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject. [give thee. K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely L. Grey. I take my leave, with many thousand

thanks.

Glo. The match is made; she seals it with a curt'sy. K. Edw. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. L.Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. What love, think 'st thou, I sue so much to get? L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants. K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. [you did. L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my mind. L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. [band's lands. K. Edw. Why then thou shalt not have thy husL. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my For by that loss I will not purchase them. [dower; K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy children [and me.

mightily.

L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them But, mighty lord, this merry inclination, Accords not with the sadness of my suit; Please you dismiss me, either with ay, or no.

K. Edw. Ay; if thou wilt say ay, to my request: No; if thou dost say no, to my demand.

L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her brows. [A side. Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.

[Aside. K. Edw. [Aside] Her looks do argue her replete with modesty;

Her words do show her wit incomparable;
All her perfections challenge sovereignty:
One way, or other, she is for a king;
And she shall be my love, or else my queen.-
Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen ?
L. Grey. "Tis better said than done, my gracious
I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a sovereign.

[lord:

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state, I swear to thee, I speak no more than what my soul intends And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

L. Grey And that is more than I will yield unto. I know I am too mean to be your queen; And yet too good to be your concubine. K.Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean, my queen.