The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare

Oxf. And thus [Kissing HENRY's hand.] 1 seal my truth, and bid adieu.

K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,

And all at once, once more a happy farewell. War. Farewell, sweet lords; let's meet at Coventry.

[Exeunt WAR. CLAR. OXF. and MONT. K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest a while.

Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? Methinks, the power that Edward hath in field, Should not be able to encounter mine.

Exe. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest.

K. Hen. That's not my fear, my meed⚫ hath got me fame.

I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs,
My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears;
I have not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies,
Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd:
Then why should they love Edward more than

me?

Call Edward-king, and at his bands beg mercy,

And he shall pardon thee these outrages.

War. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces

hence, Confess who set thee up, and pluck'd thee down ?

Call Warwick-patron, and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remain the duke of York.
Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said

-the king;

Or did he make the jest against his will?
War. Is not a dukedom, Sir, a goodly gift?
I'll do thee service for so good a gift. +
Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give?

War. 'Twas I, that gave the kingdom to thy brother.

The allusion is to the proverb, "Make hay while the sun shines." t1. e. Enroll myself among thy dependents.

K. Edw. Why, then 'tis mine, if but by War- | Look here, I throw my infamy at thee: wick's gift. I will not ruinate my father's house, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,

War. Thou art no Atlas, for so great a
weight:

And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again;
And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
K. Edw. But Warwick's king is Edward's
prisoner :

And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this,-
What is the body, when the head is off?

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more
cast,

But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
The king was slily finger'd from the deck!⚫
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace,
And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.
K. Edw. 'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick
still.

And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou,
Warwick,

That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, + unnatural,
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother and his lawful king?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath :
fore-To keep that oath, were more impiety
Than Jephtha's, when he sacrific'd his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass made,
That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe;
With resolution, whereso'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,)
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
| And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.-
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends;
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times
more belov'd,

Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel down, kneel down:

Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools.
War. I had rather chop this hand off at a
blow,

And with the other fling it at thy face.
Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.

K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and
tide thy friend;

This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,

Shall, whiles the head is warm, and new cut off,

Write in the dust this sentence with thy

blood.

Wind-changing Warwick now can change no

more.

Enter OXFORD, with Drum and Colours. War. O cheerful colours! see, where Oxford comes !

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster !

[OXFORD and his Forces enter the City. Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.

Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.
Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is bro-
ther-like.

War. O passing traitor, perjur'd and un-
just!

K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight?

Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for de-
fence:

I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.
K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and
leads the way :-

Lords to the field; Saint George and victory.
[March. Exeunt.

K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our | SCENE II-A Field of Battle near Barnet.

backs,

And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.

These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's
biack veil,

Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
To search the secret treasons of the world:

The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with
blood,

Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his
brow?

Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and, of all my lands,

• I. e. To cement.
Stupid, insensible of paternal fondness.
1 Eminent, egregious.
$ Bugbear.
Terrified

Is nothing left me, but my body's length!
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and
dust?

And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET.

SCENE IV.-Plains near Tewksbury. March.-Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers.

Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,

Som. Ah! Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.

we are,

What though the mast be now blown over-
board,

The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
Aud half our sailors swallow'd in the flood,
Yet lives our pilot still! Is't meet that he
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful
lad,

With tearful eyes add water to the sea,

And give more strength to that which hath too much;

Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the

rock.

Which industry and courage might have sav'd?
Ah! what a shame, ah! what a fault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor; What of that?
And Montague our top-mast; What of him?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; What of
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast;

these ?

And to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick,
And said-Commend me to my valiant bro-The friends of France our shrouds and tack.

ther.

lings?

And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?
We will not from the helm, to sit and weep;
But keep our course, though the rough wind
say-uo,

From shelves and rocks that threaten us with
wreck.

As good to chide the waves, as speak them
fair.

And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal rock?
What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit
All these the enemies to our poor bark.
Say, you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while:
Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly

sink:

Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
In case soine one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the bro
thers,

More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and
rocks.

Why, courage, then! what cannot be avoided, 'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear.

Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant

spirit
[words,
Should, if a coward heard her speak these
Infuse his breast with magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.
I speak not this, as doubting any here;
For, did I but suspect a fearful man,
He should have leave to go away betimes;
Lest, in our need, he might infect another,
And make him of like spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid !
Let him depart, before we need his help.

Oxf. Women and children of so high a
courage!

And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame.

O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather

Doth live again in thee; Long may'st thou
live,

To bear his image, and renew his glories!
Som. And be, that will not fight for such a
hope,

Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset ;-sweet
Oxford, thanks.

Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath
nothing else.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand,

Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

Off. I thought no less it is his policy, To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness. Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.

Orf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not budge.

March. Enter at a distance, King EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

Which, by the heavens' assistance, and strength,

your

Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For well I wot, ye blaze to burn them out:
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.

Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say,

My tears gainsay; + for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, no more but this :-Henry, your

Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place. Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word.

Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.

Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold.

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.

K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm † your tongue.

Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful:

Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,And thou misshapen Dick, I tell you all,

I am your better, traitors as ye are ;And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here. [Stabs him.

Glo. Sprawl'st thou ? take that, to end thy agony. [GLO. stabs him. Clar. And there's for twitting me with per

jury.

Q. Mar. O kill me too! Glo. Marry, and shall.

CLAR. stabs him.

[Offers to kill her.

K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.

Glo. Why should she live to fill the world with words?t

K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means

for her recovery.

Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;

I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
Clar. What? what?

[Exit.

Glo. The Tower, the Tower! Q. Mar. O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!

Canst thou not speak?-0

derers !

traitors!

mur

They that stabb'd Cæsar shed 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 respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. [it?
What's worse than murderer, that I may name
No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak :-
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up re-

morse:

K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that, who But, if you ever chance to have a child,

finds Edward,

Shall have a high reward, and he is life?
Glo. It is; and, lo, where youthful Edward

comes.

Enter Soldiers with Prince EDWARD.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak:

What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambi-
tious York!

Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth; Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,

Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee, Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer

Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not bear me swear I would not do it.

K. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thy'Twas siu before, ý but now 'tis charity. [self; What wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,

The Prince calls Richard, for his crookedness, Esop. 1. e. I will compel you to be as sileut as if you were deprived of speech by enchantment.

1 Dispute; contention.
She alludes to the desertion of Clarence.

Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.

thou?

Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

K. Edw. Away, I say: I charge ye, bear her hence.

Q. Mar. So come to you and your's, as to this prince! [Exit, led out forcibly. K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.

Now march we hence: discharge the common sort

With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

[Exeunt. SCENE VI.-London.-A Room in the Tower.

King HENRY is discovered sitting with a Book in his Hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather

'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better: Good Gloster and good devil were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord.

Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must coufer. [Exit Lieutenant. K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf:

So first the barınless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;

The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a bush,

With trembling wings misdoubteth + every bush :
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye,
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught,
and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of
Crete,

That taught his son the office of a fowl? And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.

K. Hen. 1, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun that sear'd the wings of iny sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah! kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point,
Than can my ears that tragic history.-
But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?
Glo, Think'st thou, I am an executioner?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure thou art;
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd, when first

thou didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine,
And thus I prophesy,-that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a wi-
dow's,

And many an orphan's water-standing eye;
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands'
fate,

And orphans for their parents' timeless death;

The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down
trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's
hope;

To wit, an indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast
born,

To signify, thou cam'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st-

Glo. I'll hear no more ;-Die, prophet, in thy speech; [Stabs him. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.

O God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee!

Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.

See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!

O may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfal of our house!

If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thi ther, [Stabs him again. I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of; For I have often heard my mother say, I came into the world with my legs forward: Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried 10 Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth! And so I was; which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.

Then since the heavens have shap'd my body

Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother:
And this word-love, which greybeards call
divine,

Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me: I am myself alone.--
Clarence beware; thou keep'st me from the
light;

But I will sort + a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone :
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;
Counting myself but bad, till I be best.-
I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph Henry, in thy day of doom.

[Exit.

SCENE VII.-The same.-A Room in the Palace.

King EDWARD is discovered sitting on his Throne; Queen ELIZABETH with the infant Prince, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and others, near him.

K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal throne,

Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their
pride?

Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd

• Careless.
To misdoubt is to suspect danger, to fear.
No part of what my fears presage. thing.

Chiklish.

To rook, signified to squat down or lodge on naty t Select.

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The Dramatic Works of William Shakespeare, Volume 10