Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son,
Didst yield consent 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 seen them (even with those wings
"Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight,)
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest,
Offering their own lives in their young's defence?
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent!
Were it not pity that this goodly boy

Should lose his birthright by his father's fault;
And long hereafter say unto his child,-
What my great-grandfather and grandsire got,
My careless father fondly gave away?

5

Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy;
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel 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, didst thou never hear,
That things ill got had ever bad success ?6
And happy always was it for that son,
Whose father' for his hoarding went to hell?
I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;
And 'would, my father had left me no more!
For all the rest is held at such a rate,
'As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep,

5 fondly] i. e. foolishly.

6 didst thou never hear,

That things ill got had ever bad success? &c.] The proverb quoted by his majesty on this occasion, seems to militate directly against his own argument, and shows that things ill got might have good success. M. MASON.

1 Whose father, &c.] Alluding to a common proverb:

66

Happy the child whose father went to the devil."

Than in possession any jot of pleasure.

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. Edward, kneel down.

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

And in that quarrel use it to the death.

Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince,

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. 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:

8

Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.

Clif. I would, your highness would depart the field;

The queen hath best success when you are absent. Q. Mar, Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our

fortune.

K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore

I'll stay.

North. Be it with resolution then to fight.

Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George!

& Darraign] That is, Range your host, put your host in order.

March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers.

Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace,

And set thy diadem upon my head;

* Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!

'Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,
'Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king?

Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent:

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 son in.

Clif. And reason too;

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 kill'd young Rutland, was it not?

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-tongu'd Warwick? dare you speak?

When you and I met at Saint- Alban's 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.

Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently ;Break off the parle; for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Clif. I slew 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 sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. 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 meeting here,

Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.

Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: By him that made us all, I am resolv'd, That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, That ne'er shall 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 says is right,

There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.

9

?—I am resolv'd,] It is my firm persuasion; I am no longer in doubt.

Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor dam;

But like a foul misshapen stigmatick,

Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
"As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.
Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,
Whose father bears the title of a king,

(As if a channel should be call'd the sea,)1
Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art ex-
traught,

'To let thy tongue detect' thy base-born heart? Edw. A wisp of straw3 were worth a thousand

crowns,

To make this shameless callet' know herself.*Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, * Although thy husband may be Menelaus ;5 * And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd * By that false woman, as this king by thee. 'His father revell'd in the heart of France, And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoop; And, had he match'd according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day: But when he took a beggar to his bed, And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day;

Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, 'That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.

(As if a channel should be call'd the sea,)] A channel, in our author's time, signified what we now call a kennel.

2

To let thy tongue detect-] To show thy meanness of birth by the indecency of language with which thou railest at my deformity. JOHNSON.

3 A wisp of straw-] An instrument of correction that might disgrace, but not hurt her. A wisp was also the punishment for

a scold.

4 To make this shameless callet -] Callet, a lewd woman, a drab, perhaps so called from the French calote, which was a sort of head-dress worn by country girls.

5 Menelaus ;] i. e. a cuckold.