Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? 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, Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates? But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush: Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. 'Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud; But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small: 'Tis virtue, that doth make them most admir'd; The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: 4 'Tis government, that makes them seem divine; The want thereof makes thee abominable: Thou art as opposite to every good, As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion." 9, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; 'Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. 'Bid'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: 'Would'st 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 French woman. North. Beshrew me, but his passions move me so, But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,- (1) Impale, encircle with a crown. (2) Kill him. (3) The distinguishing mark. (4) Government, in the language of the time, signified evenness of temper, and decency of manners. (5) The north. (6) Sufferings. curse; And, in thy need, such comfort came to thee, Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, Clif. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's' death. [Stabbing him. Q. Mar. And here's to right our gentle-hearted king. [Stabbing him. York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! 'My soul flies through these wounds to seek out [Dies. Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; thee. So York may overlook the town of York. [Exeunt. ACT II. SCENE I-A plain near Mortimer's Cross, in Herefordshire. Drums. Enter Edward, and Richard, with their forces, marching. *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.→ 'How fares my brother? why is he so sad? Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about; And watch'd him, how he singled Clifford forth. 'Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a licn in a herd of neat:8 *Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; *Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. So far'd our father with his enemies; 'So fled his enemies my warlike father; Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. See, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love! Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect I think it cites us, brother, to the field; *You love the breeder better than the male. 'But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel much. 'Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. 'Mess. Environed he was with many foes; * And stood against them as the hope of Troy2 *Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, * Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. By many hands your father was subdu'd; 'But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm "Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen: 'Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite; Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept, "The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, 'A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, "They took his head, and on the gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain, 'The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon; 'Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay!* O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain The flower of Europe for his chivalry; *And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, *For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd thee! Now my soul's palace is become a prison: O valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears: And now, to add more measure to your woes, Bearing the king in my behalf along: sion. Short tale to make,-we at Saint Albans met, Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body With promise of high pay, and great rewards: Might in the ground be closed up in rest: *For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, quench. But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle And when came George from Burgundy to Eng- 'War. Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers: And for your brother, he was lately scnt Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant War- Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak. you out; SCENE II.-Before York. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, the Prince of Wales, Clifford, and Northumberland, with forces. Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, To see this sight, it irks my very soul.- Cliff. My gracious liege, this too much lenity, And therefore comes my brother Montague. Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick speak: Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, lean; 'And when thou fall'st (as God forbid the hour!) Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend! War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; 'The next degree is, England's royal throne: * (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,) Not his, that spoils her young before her face. Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy! But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,- hardAs brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, *Edw. Then strike up, drums ;-God, and Saint George, for us! Enter a Messenger. War. How now? what news? Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know, 'How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, 'And this soft courage makes your followers faint. 'You promis'd knighthood to our forward son; Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by Edward, kneel down. me, K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore North. Be it with resolution then to fight. March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, War- 'And set thy diadem upon my head; Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent: K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. Q. Mar. Defy 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. Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meet- Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says There is no wrong, but every thing is right. But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ? Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, Who should succeed the father, but the son? 'Rich. Are you there, butcher?-O, I cannot speak! Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort. Rich. 'Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not? crowns, To make this shameless callet' know herself.— Although thy husband may be Menelaus; Clif. 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? Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongued wick? dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands. War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. 'North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make you stay. 'Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy And that thy summer bred us no increase, Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;-Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. Clif I slew thy father: Call'st thou him a child? As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; (1) i. e. Arrange your host, put your host in order. (3) One branded by nature. Gilt is a superficial covering of gold. Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay: (5) Kennel was then pronounced channel. (6) To show thy meanness of birth by thy inde cent railing. (7) Drab. (8) i. e. A cuckold. *Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; 'Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: '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, 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 Warwick, 'Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :'I, that did never weep, now melt with wo, "That winter should cut off our spring-time so. War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell. Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, 'And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars, that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards 'As victors wear at the Olympian games: (1) And are mere spectators. SCENE IV.-The same. Another part of the field. Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford. 'Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, "Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, 'Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York, And here's the heart that triumphs in their death, And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and To execute the like upon thyself; brother, And so, have at thee. war, When dying clouds contend with growing light; *What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, *Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 'Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind: Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; Now, one the better; then, another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered: 'So is the equal poise of this fell war. *Here on this molehill will I sit me down. To whom God will, there be the victory! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, They prosper best of all when I am thence. "Would I were dead! if God's good will were so : For what is in this world, but grief and wo? O God! methinks, it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, *To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour fuil complete, * How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, *How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock; *So many hours must I take my rest; *So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself: So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: *Sominutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, * Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. *Ah, what a life were this! how sweet; how lovely! * Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, *Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy (2) Sinking into dejection. (3) To fore-slow is to be dilatory, to loiter. |