K. Hen. Poor queen! how love to me and to her

son,

'Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke; * Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, * Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle, * Tire on the flesh of me, and of my son! * The loss of those three lords' torments my heart: * I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair;* Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger,

* Exe. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.

[Exeunt.

SCENE II.

A Room in Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire.

Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE.

'Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.

Edw. No, I can better play the orator.
Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible.

Enter YORK.

'York. Why, how now, sonsand brother, atastrife? "What is your quarrel? how began it first?

Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention.
York. About what?

Rich. About that which concerns your grace,
and us;

The crown of England, father, which is yours.

9 Tire on the flesh of me,] To tire is to fasten, to fix the talons, from the French tirer; or rather, to peck.

1 those three lords-] That is, of Northumberland Westmoreland, and Clifford, who had left him in disgust.

"York. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be dead. * Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death. * Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: * By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, * It will outrun you, father, in the end.

'York. I took an oath, that he should quietly reign. Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be

broken:

I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year. Rich. No; God forbid, your grace should be forsworn.

• York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak.

York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. Rich. An oath is of no moment,' being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate,

That hath authority over him that swears:
Henry had none, but did usurp the place;

Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, 'Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.

*

Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think, *How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; * Within whose circuit is Elysium,

* And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. *Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest, * Until the white rose, that I wear, be died * Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. "York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.— 'Brother, thou shalt to London presently,

And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.

2 An oath is of no moment,] The obligation of an oath is here eluded by very despicable sophistry. A lawful magistrate alone has the power to exact an oath, but the oath derives no part of its force from the magistrate. The plea against the obligation of an oath obliging to maintain an usurper, taken from the unlawfulness of the oath itself in the foregoing play, was rational and just.

Thou Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk,
And tell him privily of our intent.-

You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise: "In them I trust; for they are soldiers, 'Witty and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more,

6

But that I seek occasion how to rise;

And yet the king not privy to my drift,

Nor any of the house of Lancaster?

Enter a Messenger.

But, stay; What news? why com'st thou in such post?

Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls and lords,3

'Intend here to besiege you in your castle :

'She is hard by with twenty thousand men';

And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.

* York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou, that we fear them?

Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;'My brother Montague shall post to London: * Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, * Whom we have left protectors of the king, * With powerful policy strengthen themselves, * And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. * Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not: * And thus most humbly I do take my leave.

[Exit.

3 The queen, with all, &c.] I know not whether the author intended any moral instruction, but he that reads this has a striking admonition against that precipitancy by which men often use unlawful means to do that which a little delay would put honestly in their power. Had York staid but a few moments, he had saved his cause from the stain of perjury. JOHNSON.

The whole, however, is a violation of historic truth.

Enter Sir JOHN and Sir HUGH MORTIMER.

York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles!

'You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; The army of the queen mean to besiege us.

Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in the field.

"York. What, with five thousand men ?

Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general; what should we fear?

[A March afar off.

Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in

order;

And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. "York. Five men to twenty-though the odds be great,

'I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.

• Many a battle have I won in France,

When as the enemy hath been ten to one;
Why should I not now have the like success?

[Alarum, Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Plains near Sandal Castle.

Alarums; Excursions. Enter RUTLAND, and his Tutor.

Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands! Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes!

Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers.

Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke,

Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company.
Clif. Soldiers, away with him.

Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent child,

Lest thou be hated both of God and man.

[Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it fear, That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open them.

Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws: And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey ; 'And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.— 'Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die ;I am too mean a subject for thy wrath, Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should

enter.

Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again; He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me;

No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart,
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul;

' And till I root out their accursed line,
'And leave not one alive, I live in hell,
Therefore

[Lifting his hand.

4 Whose father -] i. e. the father of which brat, namely the Duke of York.