WAR. No longer earl of March, but duke of York;

The next degree is, England's royal throne:

For king of England fhalt thou be proclaim'd
In every borough as we pafs along ;

And he, that throws not up his cap for joy,
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
King Edward,-valiant Richard,-Montague,—
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,
But found the trumpets, and about our task.

RICH. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as fteel, (As thou haft fhown it flinty by thy deeds,) I come to pierce it,—or to give thee mine. [for us! EDW. Then strike up, drums;-God, and faint George, Enter a MESSENGER.

WAR. How now? What news?

MES. The duke of Norfolk fends you word by me, The queen is coming with a puiffant hoft;

And craves your company for speedy counsel.

WAR. Why then it forts, brave warriors: Let's away.

SCENE II. Before York.

[Exeunt.

Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, the PRINCE of Wales, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with forces.

2. MAR. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy,

That fought to be encompass'd with your crown:

Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?

[York.

K. HEN. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their

wreck ;

To fee this fight, it irks my very foul.

Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault,

Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow.

CLIF. My gracious liege, this too much lenity
And harmful pity, must be laid aside.
To whom do lions caft 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 'fcapes the lurking ferpent's mortal fting?
Not he, that fets his foot upon her back.

The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on;
And doves will peck, in fafeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
Thou fmiling, while he knit his angry brows:
He, but a duke, would have his fon a king,
And raise his iffue, like a loving fire;

Thou, being a king, blefs'd with a goodly fon,
Didft yield confent to disinherit him,
Which argued thee a most unloving father.
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 feen them (even with those wings
Which fometime they have us'd with fearful flight,)
Make war with him that climb'd into their neft,
Offering their own lives in their young's defence?
For fhame, my liege, make them your precedent!
Were it not pity, that this goodly boy
Should lofe his birthright by his father's fault;
And long hereafter fay unto his child,—
What my great-grandfather and grandfire got,

My careless father fondly gave away?

Ah, what a fhame were this! Look on the boy;
And let his manly face, which promiseth

Successful fortune, fteel thy melting heart,

To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him.
K. HEN. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force.

But, Clifford, tell me, didft thou never hear,-
That things ill got had ever bad fuccefs?
And happy always was it for that fon,
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?
I'll leave my fon my virtuous deeds behind
And would, my father had left me no more!
For all the reft is held at fuch a rate,

;

As brings a thoufand-fold more care to keep,
Than in poffeffion any jot of pleasure.

Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know,
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

[nigh, 2. MAR. My lord, cheer up your fpirits; our foes are And this foft courage makes your followers faint. You promis'd knighthood to our forward fon; Unfheath your fword, and dub him presently.— Edward, kneel down.

K. HEN. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And learn this leffon,-Draw thy fword in right. PRINCE. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,

And in that quarrel ufe it to the death.

CLIF. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
Enter a MESSENGER.

MES. 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.

CLIF. I would, your highness would depart the field; The queen hath beft fuccefs when you are abfent.

2. MAR. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. K. HEN. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll NORTH. Be it with resolution then to fight. [stay. 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 grace, And fet thy diadem upon my head;

Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

2. MAR. Go rate thy minions, proud infulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,

Before thy fovereign, and thy lawful king?

EDW. I am his king, and he should bow his knee;

I was adopted heir by his confent :

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 fon in.

CLIF. And reason too;

Who fhould fucceed the father, but the fon?

RICH. Are you there, butcher ?-O, I cannot fpeak!
CLIF. Ay, crook-back; here I ftand, to answer thee,
Or
any he the proudeft of thy fort.

RICH. 'Twas you, that kill'd young Rutland, was it not?
CLIF. Ay, and old York, and yet not fatisfy'd.
RICH. For God's fake, lords, give fignal to the fight.
WAR. What say'ft thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the

crown?

[you speak? 2. MAR. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick? dare

When you and I met at faint Alban's laft,
Your legs did better fervice than your hands.

WAR. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.
CLIF. You faid fo much before, and yet you fled.
WAR. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
NORTH. No, nor your manhood, that durft make you
ftay.

RICH. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently ;-
Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain
The execution of my big-fwoln heart

Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

CLIF. I flew 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 fun-fet, I'll make thee curfe the deed.

;

K. HEN. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

2. MAR. Defy them then, or else hold clofe thy lips. K. HEN. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue; I am a king, and privileg'd to fpeak.

CLIF. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting here, Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.

RICH. Then, executioner, unfheath thy fword :
By him that made us all, I am refolv'd,
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.
EDW. Say, Henry, fhall I have my right, or no?
A thousand men have broke their fafts to-day,
That ne'er fhall dine, unless thou yield the crown.
WAR. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head;
For York in justice puts his armour on.

PRINCE. If that be right, which Warwick fays is right,

There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

RICH. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands;