« AnkstesnisTęsti »
Let him depart before we need his help..
Oxf. Women and Children of fo high a Courage,
Som. And he that will not fight for fuch a Hope,
gentle Somerfet, fweet Oxford thanks. Prin. And take his Thanks, that yet hath nothing elfe.
Enter a Meffenger.
Me. Prepare you, Lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight; therefore be refolute.
Oxf. I thought no lefs; it is his Policy, To hafte thus faft, to find us unprovided. Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness Queen. This chears my Heart, to fee your forwardness Oxf. Here pitch our Battel, hence we will not budge.
March. Enter King Edward, Glocefter, Clarence, and Soldiers.
K. Edw. Brave Followers, yonder ftands the thorny
Which, by the Heav'ns Affiftance, and your Strength,
Queen. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should fay,
My Tears gain-fay; for every word I speak,
You fight in Juftice: Then in God's Name, Lords,
Alarum, Retreat, Excursions.
Enter King Edward, Glocefter, Clarence, &c. The Queen, Oxford, and Somerset Prisoners.
K. Edw. Now here's a Period of tumultuous Broils. Away with Oxford to Hammes Cattle ftraight: For Somerfet, off with his guilty Head. Go bear them hence, I will not hear them fpeak. Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. Som. Nor I, but ftoop with Patience to my Fortune. [Exeunt.
Queen. So part we fadly in this troublous World, To meet with Joy in fweet Jerufalem.
K. Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Ed
Shall have a high Reward, and he his Life?
Enter the Prince of Wales.
K. Edw. Being forth the Gallant, let us hear him speak; What? can fo young a Thorn begin to prick? Edward, what Satisfaction canft thou make, For bearing Arms, for ftirring up my Subjects, And all the Trouble thou haft turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a Subject, proud ambitious York.
Glo. By Heaven, Brat, I'll plague ye for that word.
Prince. Nay, take away this fcolding Crook-back, rather, K. Edw. Peace, wilful Boy, or I will charm your Tongue, Cla. Untutor❜d Lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my Duty, you are all undutiful: Lafcivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, And thou mif-fhapen Dick, I tell ye all, I am your better, Traitors as ye are. And thou ufurp'ft my Father's Right and mine. K.Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this Railer here. [Stabs him. Glo. Sprawl'ft thou? take that, to end thy Agony. [Rich. ftabs him.
Clar. And there's for twitting me with Perjury. [Clar. fiabs him.
Queen. Oh, kill me too!
[Offers to kill her.
K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we bave done too much. Gla. Why fhould fhe live, to fill the World with words? K. Edw. What? doth fhe fwoon? ufe Means for her Recovery.
Glo. Clarence, excufe me to the King my Brother: I'll hence to London on a ferious Matter,
ye come there, be sure to hear fome News. Clar. What? what?
Glo. Tower, the Tower.
Queen. Oh, Ned, fweet Ned, fpeak to thy Mother, Boy. Can't thou not fpeak? O Traitors, Murderers! They that ftabb'd Cafar, fhed no Blood at all, Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame, If this foul Deed were by, to equal it. He was a Man; this (in refpect) a Child, And Men ne'er fpend their Fury on a Child. What's worse than Murtherer, that I may name it? No, no, my Heart will burst, and if I speakAnd I will fpeak, that fo my Heart may Butchers and Villains, bloody Cannibals, How fweet a Plant have you untimely cropt: You have no Children, Butchers; if you had, The thought of them would have ftirr'd up Remorfe;
But if you ever chance to have a Child,
Clar. By Heav'n, I will not do thee fo much Eafe.
What, wilt thou not? where is that Devil's Butcher, Richard,
K. Edw. Away, I fay, I charge ye bear her hence.
K. Edw. Where's Richard gone?
K. Edw. He's fudden, if a thing comes in his Head.
Enter King Henry, and Glocefter, with the Lieutenant on the Tower Walls.
Gle. Good day, my Lord; what at your Book fo hard? K.Henry. Ay, my good Lord; my Lord, I should say rather, 'Tis fin to flatter, Good was little better: Good Glofter, and good Devil, were alike, And both prepofterous; therefore, not Good Lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to our felves, we must confer. [Exit Lieutenant. K.Henry. So flies the wreaklefs Shepherd from the Wolf, So firft the harmlefs Flock doth yield his Fleece,
And next his Throat unto the Butcher's Knife.
Glo. Sufpicion always haunts the guilty Mind,
K. Henry. The Bird that hath been limed in a Bufh,
Glo. Thy Son I kill'd for his Prefumption.
Thou hadft not liv'd to kill a Son of mine:
And thus I prophefie, that many a thousand,
And many an Orphan's water-ftanding Eye,
Men for their Sons, Wives for their Husbands fate,