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WARWICK: How now, fair lords! What fare? what news abroad? |
RICHARD: Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain! |
EDWARD: O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet, Which held three dearly as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death. |
WARWICK: Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears; And now, to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befall'n. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depa... |
EDWARD: Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England? |
WARWICK: Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers; And for your brother, he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war. |
RICHARD: 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled: Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne'er till now his scandal of retire. |
WARWICK: Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear; For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer. |
RICHARD: I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not: 'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. But in this troublous time what's to be done? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our... |
WARWICK: Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. He swore consent to your succession, His oath ... |
RICHARD: Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak: Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, That cries 'Retire,' if Warwick bid him stay. |
EDWARD: Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; And when thou fail'st--as God forbid the hour!-- Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend! |
WARWICK: No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York: The next degree is England's royal throne; For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd In every borough as we pass along; And he that throws not up his cap for joy Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, Stay we no longer... |
RICHARD: Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. |
EDWARD: Then strike up drums: God and Saint George for us! |
WARWICK: How now! what news? |
Messenger: The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, The queen is coming with a puissant host; And craves your company for speedy counsel. |
WARWICK: Why then it sorts, brave warriors, let's away. 3 KING HENRY VI |
QUEEN MARGARET: Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? |
KING HENRY VI: Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck: To see this sight, it irks my very soul. Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow. |
CLIFFORD: My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Not h... |
KING HENRY VI: 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? 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... |
QUEEN MARGARET: My lord, cheer up your spirits: our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promised knighthood to our forward son: Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down. |
KING HENRY VI: 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. |
CLIFFORD: Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. |
Messenger: 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: Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. |
CLIFFORD: I would your highness would depart the field: The queen hath best success when you are absent. |
QUEEN MARGARET: Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. |
KING HENRY VI: Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. |
NORTHUMBERLAND: Be it with resolution then to fight. |
PRINCE EDWARD: My royal father, cheer these noble lords And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!' |
EDWARD: Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head; Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? |
QUEEN MARGARET: Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king? |
EDWARD: 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 caused him, by new act of parliament, To blot out me, and put his own son in. |
CLIFFORD: And reason too: Who should succeed the father but the son? |
RICHARD: Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak! |
CLIFFORD: Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort. |
RICHARD: 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? |
CLIFFORD: Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. |
RICHARD: For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. |
WARWICK: What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? |
QUEEN MARGARET: Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, Your legs did better service than your hands. |
WARWICK: Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. |
CLIFFORD: You said so much before, and yet you fled. |
WARWICK: 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. |
NORTHUMBERLAND: No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay. |
RICHARD: Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. |
CLIFFORD: I slew thy father, call'st thou him a child? |
RICHARD: Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed. |
KING HENRY VI: Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. |
QUEEN MARGARET: Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. |
KING HENRY VI: I prithee, give no limits to my tongue: I am a king, and privileged to speak. |
CLIFFORD: My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still. |
RICHARD: Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword: By him that made us all, I am resolved that Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. |
EDWARD: 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. |
WARWICK: If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; For York in justice puts his armour on. |
PRINCE EDWARD: If that be right which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right. |
RICHARD: Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. |
QUEEN MARGARET: But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam; But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic, Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. |
RICHARD: 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,-- Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? |
EDWARD: A wisp of straw 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; 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 tamed the... |
GEORGE: But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root; And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods... |
EDWARD: And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave! And either victory, or else a grave. |
QUEEN MARGARET: Stay, Edward. |
EDWARD: No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay: These words will cost ten thousand lives this day. 3 KING HENRY VI |
WARWICK: Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe; For strokes received, and many blows repaid, Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile. |
EDWARD: Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death! For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. |
WARWICK: How now, my lord! what hap? what hope of good? |
GEORGE: Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? |
EDWARD: Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit. |
RICHARD: Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; And in the very pangs of death he cried, Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, 'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!' So, underneath the belly of their... |
WARWICK: Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; And look upon, as if the tragedy Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? Here on my knee I vow to God above, I'll never pause ... |
EDWARD: O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; And in this vow do chain my soul to thine! And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, Beseeching thee, if with they will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet ... |
RICHARD: Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, Let me embrace thee in my weary arms: I, that did never weep, now melt with woe That winter should cut off our spring-time so. |
WARWICK: Away, away! Once more, sweet lords farewell. |
GEORGE: Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games: This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; For yet is hope of life and victory. Forslow no... |
RICHARD: Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. |
CLIFFORD: Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York; And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; And here's the heart that triumphs in their death And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother To execute the like upon thyself; And so, have at thee! |
RICHARD: Nay Warwick, single out some other chase; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. 3 KING HENRY VI |
KING HENRY VI: This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the selfsame... |
Son: Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of crowns; And I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me. Who's this? O God! it is my father's face, Whom in thi... |
KING HENRY VI: O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with grief. |
Father: Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: For I have bought it with an hundred blows. But let me see: is this our foeman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise, Blown with the windy ... |
KING HENRY VI: Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses: The one his purple blood right well resembles; The other his pale cheeks, methinks, present... |
Son: How will my mother for a father's death Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! |
Father: How will my wife for slaughter of my son Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied! |
KING HENRY VI: How will the country for these woful chances Misthink the king and not be satisfied! |
Son: Was ever son so rued a father's death? |
Father: Was ever father so bemoan'd his son? |
KING HENRY VI: Was ever king so grieved for subjects' woe? Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much. |
Son: I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. |
Father: These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go; My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; And so obsequious will thy father be, Even for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I'll bear... |
KING HENRY VI: Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Here sits a king more woful than you are. |
PRINCE EDWARD: Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. |
QUEEN MARGARET: Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain: Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight, With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. |
EXETER: Away! for vengeance comes along with them: Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; Or else come after: I'll away before. |
KING HENRY VI: Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter: Not that I fear to stay, but love to go Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! 3 KING HENRY VI |
CLIFFORD: Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow More than my body's parting with my soul! My love and fear glued many friends to thee; And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts. Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, The co... |
EDWARD: Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause, And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen, That led calm Henry, though he were a king, As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled ... |
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