War. Alas! I am not coop'd here for defence: I will away towards Barnet presently, 110 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.

SCENE II-A Field of Battle near Barnet. Alarums, and excursions. Enter King EDWARD, bringing in WARWICK wounded.

K. Edw. So lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;

For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.
Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.
Exit.
War. Ah! who is nigh? come to me, friend
or foe,

And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick?
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart
shows

And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black 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; 20
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
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.

Som. Ah! Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as

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,

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown overboard.
The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood;
Yet lives our pilot still: is 't meet that he

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, 1
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 topmast; what of him!
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these!
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor ?
And Somerset another goodly mast?

The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings'
And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge! »

SCENE IV.]

We will not from the helm to sit and weep,
But keepour course, though the rough wind say no,
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?
What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit ?
And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?
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, 31
Or else you famish; that's a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
In case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers
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
Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
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.

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49

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 he 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.

70

10

Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
Glou. 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
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,

Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious
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, 20
Which, traitor, thou would'st have me answer to.
Q. Mar. Ah! that thy father had been so
resolv'd.

Glou. That you might still have worn the petticoat,

And 'ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. Prince. Let Esop fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place. Glou. By heaven, brat, I 'll plague ye for that word.

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

men.

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

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.

30

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

I am your better, traitors as ye are ;

And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.

for her recovery.

SCENE VI.-London. The Tower. King HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOUCESTER.

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

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

Q. Mar. O Ned! sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!

Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!
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.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
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

remorse:

But if you ever chance to have a child, Look in his youth to have him so cut off

61

As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!

K. Edw. Away with her! go, bear her hence perforce.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here:

Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my

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

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself: 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher,

Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?

Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back. 80 K. Edw. Away, I say! charge ye, bear her

hence.

Q. Mar. So come to you and yours, as to this prince! Exit.

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. Ed. He's sudden if a thing comes in his head.

"Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike. And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.'

Glou. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer. Exit Lieutenant. K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? Glou. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind: The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

12

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.

Glou. 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. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus; a
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun that sear'd the wings of my 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!
Glou. 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.

Glou. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Hadst 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 widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death.
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest 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;

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH. EDWARD, Prince of Wales, afterwards King Edward the Fifth,

RICHARD, Duke of York,

GEORGE, Duke of Clarence,

RICHARD, Duke of Gloucester, after

wards King Richard the Third,

A young Son of Clarence.

Sons to the King.

Brothers to the King.

HENRY, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry the Seventh.

CARDINAL BOURCHIER, Archbishop of Canter

LORD LOVEL.

SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN.
SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF.
SIR WILLIAM CATESBY.
SIR JAMES TYRREL.
SIR JAMES BLOUNT.
SIR WALTER HERBERT.

SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant of the Tower.

CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a Priest. Another Priest, TRESSEL and BERKELEY, Gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne.

Lord Mayor of London. Sheriff of Wiltshire. ELIZABETH, Queen to King Edward the Fourth. MARGARET, Widow of King Henry the Sixth. DUCHESS OF YORK, Mother to King Edward the Fourth, Clarence, and Gloucester.

LADY ANNE, Widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry the Sixth; afterwards married to Richard.

A young Daughter of Clarence, Margaret Plantagenet.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-London. A Street.

Enter GLOUCESTER.

Glou. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings; Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now,

instead of mounting barbed steeds 10 To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,

*

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
Have no delight to pass away the time,
Unless to see my shadow in the sun
And descant on mine own deformity:
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
I am determined to prove a villain,
And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams,
To set my brother Clarence and the king
In deadly hate the one against the other:
And if King Edward be as true and just
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous,
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up
About a prophecy, which says that G
Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clar

ence comes.