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twg_000000019300 | them our fortune give. Away, my lord, away! [_Exeunt._] SCENE III. Fields near Saint Albans Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Richard, Warwick and Soldiers with drum and colours. YORK. Of Salisbury, who can report of him, That winter lion, who in rage forgets Aged contusions and all brush of time, And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, Repairs him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019301 | with occasion? This happy day Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, If Salisbury be lost. RICHARD. My noble father, Three times today I holp him to his horse, Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off, Persuaded him from any further act; But still, where danger was, still there I met him, And like rich hangings | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019302 | in a homely house, So was his will in his old feeble body. But, noble as he is, look where he comes. Enter Salisbury. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought today. SALISBURY. By th mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard. God knows how long it is I have to live, And it hath pleased him | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019303 | that three times today You have defended me from imminent death. Well, lords, we have not got that which we have; Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature. YORK. I know our safety is to follow them; For, as I hear, the King is fled to London To call a present court | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019304 | of parliament. Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth. What says Lord Warwick? Shall we after them? WARWICK. After them? Nay, before them, if we can. Now, by my hand, lords, twas a glorious day. Saint Albans battle won by famous York Shall be eternized in all age to come. Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all; | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019305 | And more such days as these to us befall! [_Exeunt._] THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH Contents ACT I Scene I. London. The Parliament House Scene II. Sandal Castle Scene III. Plains near Sandal Castle Scene IV. The Same ACT II Scene I. A plain near Mortimers Cross in Herefordshire Scene II. Before York Scene III. A field | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019306 | of battle between Towton and Saxton, in Yorkshire Scene IV. Another Part of the Field Scene V. Another Part of the Field Scene VI. Another Part of the Field ACT III Scene I. A Forest in the North of England Scene II. The Palace Scene III. France. The Kings Palace ACT IV Scene I. London. The Palace Scene II. A | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019307 | Plain in Warwickshire Scene III. Edwards Camp near Warwick Scene IV. London. The Palace Scene V. A park near Middleham Castle in Yorkshire Scene VI. London. The Tower Scene VII. Before York Scene VIII. London. The Palace ACT V Scene I. Coventry Scene II. A Field of Battle near Barnet Scene III. Another Part of the Field Scene IV. Plains | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019308 | near Tewkesbury Scene V. Another part of the Field Scene VI. London. The Tower Scene VII. London. The Palace Dramatis Person KING HENRY the Sixth QUEEN MARGARET PRINCE EDWARD, Prince of Wales, his son DUKE OF SOMERSET DUKE OF EXETER EARL OF OXFORD EARL OF NORTHUMBERLAND EARL OF WESTMORELAND LORD CLIFFORD RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York EDWARD, Earl of March, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019309 | afterwards King Edward IV., his son GEORGE, afterwards Duke of Clarence, his son RICHARD, afterwards Duke of Gloucester, his son EDMUND, Earl of Rutland, his son DUKE OF NORFOLK MARQUESS OF MONTAGUE EARL OF WARWICK EARL OF PEMBROKE LORD HASTINGS LORD STAFFORD SIR JOHN MORTIMER, uncle to the Duke of York SIR HUGH MORTIMER, uncle to the Duke of York | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019310 | LADY GREY, afterwards Queen Elizabeth to Edward IV EARL RIVERS, brother to Lady Grey HENRY, Earl of Richmond, a youth SIR WILLIAM STANLEY SIR JOHN MONTGOMERY SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE KING LEWIS the Eleventh, King of France BONA, sister to the French Queen Tutor to Rutland Mayor of York Lieutenant of the Tower A Nobleman Two Keepers A Huntsman A Son | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019311 | that has killed his father A Father that has killed his son Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Watchmen, etc. SCENE: England and France ACT I SCENE I. London. The Parliament House Alarum. Enter Duke of York, Edward, Richard, Norfolk, Montague, Warwick and Soldiers, all wearing the white rose. WARWICK. I wonder how the King escaped our hands. YORK. While we pursued the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019312 | horsemen of the north, He slyly stole away and left his men; Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheered up the drooping army; and himself, Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast, Charged our main battles front, and breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. EDWARD. Lord Staffords father, Duke | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019313 | of Buckingham, Is either slain or wounded dangerous; I cleft his beaver with a downright blow. That this is true, father, behold his blood. [_Showing his bloody sword._] MONTAGUE. And, brother, heres the Earl of Wiltshires blood, [_To York, showing his._] Whom I encountered as the battles joined. RICHARD. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. [_Throwing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019314 | down the Duke of Somersets head._] YORK. Richard hath best deserved of all my sons. But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset? NORFOLK. Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt! RICHARD. Thus do I hope to shake King Henrys head. WARWICK. And so do I. Victorious Prince of York, Before I see thee seated in | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019315 | that throne Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. This is the palace of the fearful king, And this the regal seat. Possess it, York, For this is thine, and not King Henrys heirs. YORK. Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will; For hither we have broken in by force. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019316 | NORFOLK. Well all assist you; he that flies shall die. YORK. Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords; And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. WARWICK. And when the King comes, offer him no violence, Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. [_They retire._] YORK. The Queen this day here holds her parliament, But little thinks | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019317 | we shall be of her council. By words or blows here let us win our right. RICHARD. Armed as we are, lets stay within this house. WARWICK. The bloody parliament shall this be called, Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king, And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice Hath made us bywords to our enemies. YORK. Then leave me not, my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019318 | lords; be resolute. I mean to take possession of my right. WARWICK. Neither the King, nor he that loves him best, The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells. Ill plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares. Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. [_Warwick leads York to the throne, who seats | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019319 | himself._] Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmoreland, Exeter and the rest, all wearing the red rose. KING HENRY. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, Even in the chair of state! Belike he means, Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer, To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019320 | father, And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vowed revenge On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends. NORTHUMBERLAND. If I be not, heavens be revenged on me! CLIFFORD. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. WESTMORELAND. What, shall we suffer this? Lets pluck him down. My heart for anger burns. I cannot brook it. KING HENRY. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019321 | Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland. CLIFFORD. Patience is for poltroons, such as he. He durst not sit there had your father lived. My gracious lord, here in the parliament Let us assail the family of York. NORTHUMBERLAND. Well hast thou spoken, cousin. Be it so. KING HENRY. Ah, know you not the city favours them, And they have troops | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019322 | of soldiers at their beck? EXETER. But when the Duke is slain, theyll quickly fly. KING HENRY. Far be the thought of this from Henrys heart, To make a shambles of the Parliament House! Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats Shall be the war that Henry means to use. [_They advance to the Duke._] Thou factious Duke of York, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019323 | descend my throne, And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet; I am thy sovereign. YORK. I am thine. EXETER. For shame, come down. He made thee Duke of York. YORK. Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was. EXETER. Thy father was a traitor to the crown. WARWICK. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown In following this | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019324 | usurping Henry. CLIFFORD. Whom should he follow but his natural king? WARWICK. True, Clifford, thats Richard, Duke of York. KING HENRY. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? YORK. It must and shall be so. Content thyself. WARWICK. Be Duke of Lancaster. Let him be king. WESTMORELAND. He is both King and Duke of Lancaster; And that | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019325 | the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. WARWICK. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget That we are those which chased you from the field And slew your fathers, and with colours spread Marched through the city to the palace gates. NORTHUMBERLAND. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019326 | WESTMORELAND. Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, Ill have more lives Than drops of blood were in my fathers veins. CLIFFORD. Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger As shall revenge his death before I stir. WARWICK. Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019327 | YORK. Will you we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. KING HENRY. What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. I am the son of Henry the Fifth, Who made the Dauphin and the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019328 | French to stoop, And seized upon their towns and provinces. WARWICK. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. KING HENRY. The Lord Protector lost it, and not I. When I was crowned I was but nine months old. RICHARD. You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose. Father, tear the crown from the usurpers head. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019329 | EDWARD. Sweet father, do so; set it on your head. MONTAGUE. Good brother, as thou lovst and honourest arms, Lets fight it out and not stand cavilling thus. RICHARD. Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly. YORK. Sons, peace! KING HENRY. Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to speak. WARWICK. Plantagenet shall speak first. Hear him, lords, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019330 | And be you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him shall not live. KING HENRY. Thinkst thou that I will leave my kingly throne, Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? No. First shall war unpeople this my realm; Ay, and their colours, often borne in France, And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow, Shall be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019331 | my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords? My titles good, and better far than his. WARWICK. Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. KING HENRY. Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown. YORK. Twas by rebellion against his king. KING HENRY. [_Aside_.] I know not what to say; my titles weak. Tell me, may not a king adopt an | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019332 | heir? YORK. What then? KING HENRY. An if he may, then am I lawful king; For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth, Whose heir my father was, and I am his. YORK. He rose against him, being his sovereign, And made him to resign his crown perforce. WARWICK. Suppose, my lords, he | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019333 | did it unconstrained, Think you twere prejudicial to his crown? EXETER. No, for he could not so resign his crown But that the next heir should succeed and reign. KING HENRY. Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter? EXETER. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. YORK. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? EXETER. My conscience tells | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019334 | me he is lawful king. KING HENRY. [_Aside_.] All will revolt from me and turn to him. NORTHUMBERLAND. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou layst, Think not that Henry shall be so deposed. WARWICK. Deposed he shall be, in despite of all. NORTHUMBERLAND. Thou art deceived. Tis not thy southern power, Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, Which makes | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019335 | thee thus presumptuous and proud, Can set the Duke up in despite of me. CLIFFORD. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence. May that ground gape and swallow me alive, Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father! KING HENRY. O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! YORK. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019336 | Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown. What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? WARWICK. Do right unto this princely Duke of York, Or I will fill the house with armed men, And over the chair of state where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood. [_He stamps with his foot, and the Soldiers show themselves._] KING | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019337 | HENRY. My Lord of Warwick, hear but one word: Let me for this my lifetime reign as king. YORK. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livst. KING HENRY. I am content. Richard Plantagenet, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. CLIFFORD. What wrong is this unto the Prince your son! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019338 | WARWICK. What good is this to England and himself! WESTMORELAND. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry! CLIFFORD. How hast thou injured both thyself and us! WESTMORELAND. I cannot stay to hear these articles. NORTHUMBERLAND. Nor I. CLIFFORD. Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news. WESTMORELAND. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019339 | NORTHUMBERLAND. Be thou a prey unto the house of York, And die in bands for this unmanly deed! CLIFFORD. In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, Or live in peace abandoned and despised! [_Exeunt Westmoreland, Northumberland and Clifford._] WARWICK. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. EXETER. They seek revenge, and therefore will not yield. KING HENRY. Ah, Exeter! | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019340 | WARWICK. Why should you sigh, my lord? KING HENRY. Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. But be it as it may, [_To York._] I here entail The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; Conditionally, that here thou take an oath To cease this civil war, and whilst I live, To | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019341 | honour me as thy king and sovereign, And neither by treason nor hostility To seek to put me down and reign thyself. YORK. This oath I willingly take and will perform. [_Coming from the throne._] WARWICK. Long live King Henry! Plantagenet, embrace him. KING HENRY. And long live thou, and these thy forward sons! YORK. Now York and Lancaster are | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019342 | reconciled. EXETER. Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes! Sennet. Here they come down. YORK. Farewell, my gracious lord. Ill to my castle. WARWICK. And Ill keep London with my soldiers. NORFOLK. And I to Norfolk with my followers. MONTAGUE. And I unto the sea from whence I came. [_Exeunt York and his Sons, Warwick, Norfolk, Montague and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019343 | their Soldiers._] KING HENRY. And I with grief and sorrow to the court. Enter Queen Margaret and the Prince of Wales. EXETER. Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her anger. Ill steal away. KING HENRY. Exeter, so will I. [_Going._] QUEEN MARGARET. Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee. KING HENRY. Be patient, gentle Queen, and I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019344 | will stay. QUEEN MARGARET. Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man, would I had died a maid, And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father. Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019345 | did for him once, Or nourished him as I did with my blood, Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there, Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir And disinherited thine only son. PRINCE EDWARD. Father, you cannot disinherit me. If you be king, why should not I succeed? KING HENRY. Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019346 | The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me. QUEEN MARGARET. Enforced thee! Art thou King, and wilt be forced? I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch, Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me, And given unto the house of York such head As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. To entail him and his heirs | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019347 | unto the crown, What is it but to make thy sepulchre And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The Duke is made Protector of the realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds The trembling lamb environed with wolves. Had I been there, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019348 | which am a silly woman, The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes Before I would have granted to that act. But thou preferst thy life before thine honour. And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, Until that act of parliament be repealed Whereby my son is disinherited. The northern | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019349 | lords that have forsworn thy colours Will follow mine if once they see them spread; And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace And utter ruin of the house of York. Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, lets away: Our army is ready; come, well after them. KING HENRY. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. QUEEN MARGARET. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019350 | Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone. KING HENRY. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, to be murdered by his enemies. PRINCE EDWARD. When I return with victory from the field Ill see your Grace. Till then Ill follow her. QUEEN MARGARET. Come, son, away; we may not linger thus. [_Exeunt Queen Margaret | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019351 | and the Prince._] KING HENRY. Poor queen! How love to me and to her son Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Revenged 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019352 | those three lords torments my heart. Ill write unto them and entreat them fair. Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. EXETER. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. [_Flourish. Exeunt._] SCENE II. Sandal Castle Enter Edward, Richard and Montague. RICHARD. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. EDWARD. No, I can better play the orator. MONTAGUE. But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019353 | I have reasons strong and forcible. Enter the Duke of York. YORK. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a strife? What is your quarrel? How began it first? EDWARD. No quarrel, but a slight contention. YORK. About what? RICHARD. About that which concerns your Grace and us: The crown of England, father, which is yours. YORK. Mine, boy? Not | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019354 | till King Henry be dead. RICHARD. Your right depends not on his life or death. EDWARD. 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. EDWARD. But for a kingdom any oath may be | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019355 | broken. I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year. RICHARD. No; God forbid your Grace should be forsworn. YORK. I shall be, if I claim by open war. RICHARD. Ill prove the contrary if youll hear me speak. YORK. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. RICHARD. An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019356 | 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019357 | all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest Until the white rose that I wear be dyed Even in the lukewarm blood of Henrys heart. YORK. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die. Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. Thou, Richard, shalt to the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019358 | 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, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. While you are thus employed, what resteth more But that I seek occasion how to rise, And yet the King not privy | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019359 | to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster? Enter a Messenger. But stay. What news? Why comst thou in such post? MESSENGER. The Queen, with all the northern earls and lords 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019360 | sword. What, thinkst 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. MONTAGUE. Brother, I go; Ill win them, fear it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019361 | not. And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [_Exit._] 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; well meet her in the field. YORK. What, with | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019362 | five thousand men? RICHARD. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A womans general; what should we fear? [_A march afar off._] EDWARD. I hear their drums. Lets 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019363 | a battle have I won in France Whenas 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. Enter Rutland and his Tutor. RUTLAND. Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands? Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes. Enter Clifford and Soldiers. CLIFFORD. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019364 | Chaplain, away! Thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke Whose father slew my father, he shall die. TUTOR. And I, my lord, will bear him company. CLIFFORD. Soldiers, away with him! TUTOR. Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man. [_Exit, dragged off by Soldiers._] CLIFFORD. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019365 | How now? Is he dead already? Or is it fear That makes him close his eyes? Ill open them. RUTLAND. So looks the pent-up lion oer the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws; And so he walks, insulting oer his prey, And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder. Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019366 | not with such a cruel threatning look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die. I am too mean a subject for thy wrath; Be thou revenged on men, and let me live. CLIFFORD. In vain thou speakst, poor boy; my fathers blood Hath stopped the passage where thy words should enter. RUTLAND. Then let my fathers blood open it | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019367 | again; He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. CLIFFORD. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me. No, if I digged 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 | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019368 | 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._] RUTLAND. O, let me pray before I take my death! To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me! CLIFFORD. Such pity as my rapiers point affords. RUTLAND. I never did | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019369 | thee harm; why wilt thou slay me? CLIFFORD. Thy father hath. RUTLAND. But twas ere I was born. Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me, Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, He be as miserably slain as I. Ah, let me live in prison all my days, And when I give occasion of offence Then let | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019370 | me die, for now thou hast no cause. CLIFFORD. No cause? Thy father slew my father; therefore die. [_Clifford stabs him._] RUTLAND. _Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae!_ [_Dies._] CLIFFORD. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy sons blood cleaving to my blade Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood, Congealed with this, do make me wipe off | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019371 | both. [_Exit._] SCENE IV. The Same Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of York. YORK. The army of the Queen hath got the field. My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back and fly like ships before the wind, Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. My sons, God knows what hath bechanced | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019372 | them; But this I know, they have demeaned themselves Like men born to renown by life or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me, And thrice cried Courage, father, fight it out! And full as oft came Edward to my side With purple falchion painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encountered him; And | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019373 | when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried Charge, and give no foot of ground! And cried A crown, or else a glorious tomb! A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre! With this we charged again; but, out, alas! We budged again, as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide And spend her strength with over-matching | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019374 | waves. [_A short alarum within._] Ah, hark, the fatal followers do pursue, And I am faint and cannot fly their fury; And were I strong, I would not shun their fury. The sands are numbered that makes up my life; Here must I stay, and here my life must end. Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, the young Prince Edward and | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019375 | Soldiers. Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, I dare your quenchless fury to more rage. I am your butt, and I abide your shot. NORTHUMBERLAND. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. CLIFFORD. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm With downright payment showed unto my father. Now Phathon hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019376 | prick. YORK. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all; And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whateer you can afflict me with. Why come you not? What, multitudes, and fear? CLIFFORD. So cowards fight when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the falcons piercing | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019377 | talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives gainst the officers. YORK. O Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And in thy thought oerrun my former time; And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face, And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. CLIFFORD. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019378 | I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckle with thee blows twice two for one. QUEEN MARGARET. Hold, valiant Clifford; for a thousand causes I would prolong awhile the traitors life. Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland. NORTHUMBERLAND. Hold, Clifford, do not honour him so much To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart. What | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019379 | valour were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is wars prize to take all vantages, And ten to one is no impeach of valour. [_They lay hands on York, who struggles._] CLIFFORD. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019380 | NORTHUMBERLAND. So doth the cony struggle in the net. [_York is taken prisoner._] YORK. So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty; So true men yield, with robbers so oermatched. NORTHUMBERLAND. What would your Grace have done unto him now? QUEEN MARGARET. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come, make him stand upon this molehill here, That raught at mountains with outstretched | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019381 | arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. What, was it you that would be Englands king? Was t you that revelled in our parliament And made a preachment of your high descent? Where are your mess of sons to back you now, The wanton Edward and the lusty George? And wheres that valiant crook-back prodigy, Dicky your boy, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019382 | that with his grumbling voice Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? Look, York, I stained this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapiers point Made issue from the bosom of the boy; And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019383 | dry thy cheeks withal. Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly I should lament thy miserable state. I prithee grieve to make me merry, York; Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. What, hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails That not a tear can fall for Rutlands death? Why art thou patient, man? | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019384 | Thou shouldst be mad; And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. Thou wouldst be feed, I see, to make me sport; York cannot speak unless he wear a crown. A crown for York! And, lords, bow low to him. Hold you his hands whilst I do set | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019385 | it on. [_Putting a paper crown on his head._] Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king. Ay, this is he that took King Henrys chair, And this is he was his adopted heir. But how is it that great Plantagenet Is crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath? As I bethink me, you should not be king | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019386 | Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death. And will you pale your head in Henrys glory, And rob his temples of the diadem, Now in his life, against your holy oath? O, tis a fault too too unpardonable. Off with the crown, and, with the crown, his head; And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019387 | CLIFFORD. That is my office, for my fathers sake. QUEEN MARGARET. Nay, stay; lets hear the orisons he makes. YORK. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adders tooth! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex To triumph like an Amazonian trull Upon their woes whom Fortune captivates! But that thy face | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019388 | is vizard-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou camst, of whom derived, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless. Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem, Yet not so wealthy as an English | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019389 | yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen; Unless the adage must be verified, That beggars mounted run their horse to death. Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud; But God he knows thy share thereof is small. Tis virtue that doth make them most admired; The contrary | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019390 | doth make thee wondered at. Tis government that makes them seem divine; The want thereof makes thee abominable. Thou art as opposite to every good As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the Septentrion. O tigers heart wrapped in a womans hide! How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019391 | his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a womans face? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Bidst thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish: Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will; For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays, the rain begins. | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019392 | These tears are my sweet Rutlands obsequies, And every drop cries vengeance for his death Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman. NORTHUMBERLAND. Beshrew me, but his passion moves me so That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. YORK. That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touched, would not have stained with blood; But | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019393 | you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O, ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless fathers tears. This cloth thou dippedst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this; And if thou tellst the heavy story right, Upon my soul, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019394 | the hearers will shed tears; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears And say Alas, it was a piteous deed. There, take the crown, and with the crown my curse; And in thy need such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand! Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world, My soul to heaven, | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019395 | my blood upon your heads! NORTHUMBERLAND. Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, I should not for my life but weep with him, To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. QUEEN MARGARET. What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. CLIFFORD. Heres for my | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019396 | oath, heres for my fathers death. [_Stabbing him._] QUEEN MARGARET. And heres to right our gentle-hearted king. [_Stabbing him._] YORK. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee. [_Dies._] QUEEN MARGARET. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. [_Flourish. Exeunt._] | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019397 | ACT II SCENE I. A plain near Mortimers Cross in Herefordshire A march. Enter Edward and Richard and their power. EDWARD. I wonder how our princely father scaped, Or whether he be scaped away or no From Cliffords and Northumberlands pursuit. Had he been taen, we should have heard the news; Had he been slain, we should have heard the | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019398 | news; Or had he scaped, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape. How fares my brother? Why is he so sad? RICHARD. I cannot joy until I be resolved Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about, And watched him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought he bore | 60 | gutenberg |
twg_000000019399 | him in the thickest troop As doth a lion in a herd of neat; Or as a bear, encompassed round with dogs, Who having pinched a few and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof and bark at him. So fared our father with his enemies; So fled his enemies my warlike father. Methinks tis pride enough to be | 60 | gutenberg |
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