OF THE 
 
 U N 1 VER 5 ITY 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 From the library of 
 Albert Anderson Pease 
 1873-1949 
 
 Ik 
 
 Ids I a. 
 
CONTENTS OF VOL. VI. 
 
 Page 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART 1 1 
 
 KING HENRY VI PART II 101 
 
 KING HENRY VI. — PART III 213 
 
 KING RICHARD III 317 
 
 The Portrait to this Volume is from an ancient picture in 
 the possesssion of Mr. C. Kni}?ht. 
 
KING HENRY 
 
 PART I. 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 * The First Part of Henry VI.' was originally printed, 
 under that title, in the folio collection of 1623. Upon 
 the authority, then, of the editors of that edition of " Mr. 
 William Shakespeare's Comedies, Histories, and Tra- 
 gedies, published according to the true original Copies," 
 this drama properly finds a place in every modern edi- 
 tion of our poet's works. But since the time of Malone 
 the English critics have agreed that this play is spu- 
 rious; and Drake, without hesitation, refers to what 
 Shakspere's friends and editors denominated the Second 
 and Third Parts of ^ Henry VI.' as the First and Second 
 Parts ; and recommends all future editors, if they print 
 this first play at all, to give it only in an Appendix. 
 If we were in the habit, then, of taking upon trust what 
 the previous editors of Shakspere have authoritatively 
 held, we should either reject this play altogether, or, if 
 we printed it, we should inform our readers that " the 
 hand of Shakspere is nowhere visible throughout." We 
 cannot consent to follow either of these courses. We 
 print the play, and we do not tell the reader that Shak- 
 spere never touched it. The question of the authenticity 
 of the three parts of ' Henry VI.' is a very large one, em- 
 bracing many details. In this edition we are com- 
 pelled to refer the reader to our Essay on the subject, 
 which accompanies these plays in our 'Pictorial' and 
 
 * Library' editions. 
 
 In the humble house of Shakspere's boyhood there 
 was, in all probability, to be found a thick squat folio 
 volume, then some thirty years printed, in which might 
 
5 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 be read, " what misery, what murder, and what exe- 
 crable plagues tliis famous region hath suffered by tlie 
 division and dissention of the renowned houses of Lan- 
 caster and York." This book was ' Hall's Chronicle.' 
 With the local and family associations that must have 
 belonged to his early years, the subject of the four 
 dramas that relate to the dissention of the houses of 
 Lancaster and York, or rather the subject of this one 
 great drama in four parts, must have irresistibly pre- 
 sented itself to the mind of Shakspere, as one which he 
 was especially qualified to throw into the form of a 
 chronicle history. It was a task peculiarly fitted for 
 the young poet during the first five years of his con- 
 nexion with the theatre. Historical dramas, in tlie 
 rudest form, presented unequalled attractions to the 
 audiences who flocked to the rising stage. He had not 
 here to invent a plot ; or to aim at the unity of action, 
 of time, and of place, which the more refined critics of 
 his day held to be essential to tragedy. Tlie form of a 
 chronicle history might appear to require little beyond 
 a poetical exposition of the most attractive facts of tlie 
 real Chronicles. It is in this spirit, we think, that 
 Shakspere approached the execution of the First Part, of 
 * Henry VI.' It appears to us, also, that in that very 
 early performance he in some degree held his genius in 
 subordination to the necessity of executing his task, 
 rather with reference to the character of his audience 
 and the general nature of his subject than for the fulfil- 
 ment of his own aspirations as a poet. There was be- 
 fore him one of tv/o courses. He might have chosen, 
 as the greater number of his contemporaries chose, to 
 consider the dominions of poetry and of common sense 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 to be far sundered ; and, unconscious or doubtful of tlie 
 force of simplicity, he might have resolved, with them, 
 to substitute what would more unquestionably gratify 
 a rude popular taste, — the force of extravagance. On 
 tlie other hand, it was open to him to transfer to tlie 
 dramatic shape the spirit-stirring recitals of the old 
 chronicle writers ; in whose narratives, and especially 
 in that ])ortion of them in which they make their clia- 
 racters speak, there is a manly and straightforward 
 earnestness which in itself not seldom becomes poetical. 
 Shakspere chose this latter course. When we begin tc 
 study the ' Henry VI.,' we find in the First Part that the 
 action does not appear to progress to a catastroplie : 
 that the author lingers about the details, as one Avhc 
 was called upon to exhibit an entire series of events 
 rather than the most dramatic portions of them ; — there 
 are the alternations of success and loss, and loss and 
 success, till we somewhat doubt to which side to assign 
 the victory. The characters are firmly drawn, but 
 without any very subtle distinctions, — and their senti- 
 ments and actions appear occasionally inconsistent, or 
 at any rate not guided by a determined purpose in the 
 writer. But although the effect may be, to a certain 
 extent, undramatic, there is im}fl.'essed upon the wliole 
 performance a wonderful air of truth. Much of this 
 must have resulted from the extraordinary quality of 
 the poet's mind, whicli could tear oft' all the flimsy con- 
 ventional disguises of individual character, and pene- 
 trate the real moving principle of events with a rare 
 acuteness, and a rarer imi)artiality. In our view, that 
 whole portion of the First Part of 'Henry VI.' which 
 deals with the character and actions of Joan of Arc is 
 
8 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 a remarkable example of this power in Shakspere. lie 
 iaiew that, with all the influence of her supernatural 
 pretension, this extraordinary woman could not have 
 swayed the destinies of kingdoms, and moulded princes 
 and warriors to her will, unless she had been a person 
 of very rare natural endowments. She was represented 
 by the Chroniclers as a mere virago, a bold and shame- 
 less trull, a monster, a witch ; — because they adopted 
 the vulgar view of her character, — the view, in truth, 
 of those to whom she was opposed. They were rougii 
 soldiers, with all the virtues and all the vices of their 
 age ; the creatures of brute force ; the champions, in- 
 deed, of chivalry, but with the brand upon them of all 
 the selfish passions with which the highest deeds of 
 cliivalry were too invariably associated. The English 
 Chroniclers, in all that regards the delineation of 
 characters and manners, give us abundant materials 
 upon which we may form an estimate of actions, and 
 motives, and instruments; but they do not show us 
 the instruments moving in their own forms of vitality ; 
 they do not lay bare their motives; and hence we 
 have no real key to their actions. Froissart is, per- 
 haps, the only contemporary writer who gives us real 
 portraits of the men of mail. But Shakspere mar- 
 shalled them upon his stage, in all their rude might, 
 their coarse ambition, their low jealousies, their fac- 
 tious hatreds, — mixed up with their thirst for glory, 
 their indomitable courage, their warm friendships, their 
 tender natural aflTections, their love of country. This is 
 the tmth which Shakspere substituted for the vague de- 
 lineations of the old stage. 
 
PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry VI. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 1 ; sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 1. Act Y. sc. 1 ; sc, 5. 
 
 Duke of Gloster, uncle to the King, and Frotectcrr. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. I ; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1 ; sc. 4. Act IV, 
 sc. 1. Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 5. 
 
 Duke of Bedford, uncle to the King, and Regent 
 of France. 
 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. I ; sc. 2. Act III. sc. 2. 
 
 Thomas Beaufort, DnJce of Exeter, great uncle to the 
 King. 
 
 Appeal !, Act I. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV. sc. 1. 
 Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 5. 
 
 Henry Beaufort, great uncle to the King, Bishop 
 
 of Wiyichester, and afterwards Cardinal. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV. sc. I. 
 Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 4. 
 
 John B^avfort, Earl of So?nerset ; aftericards Du/ce. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 4. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV. sc. 1 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Richard Plantagenet, eldest son o/* Richard, late 
 
 Earl of Cambridge ; aftenvards Duke of York. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 4 ; sc. 5. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV. sc. 1 ; sc. S^. 
 Act V. sc. 3; sc. 4. 
 
 Earl of Warwick. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. 4. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV, 
 sc. 1. Act V. sc. 4. 
 
 Earl of Salisbury. 
 Appears^ Act I. sc. 4. 
 
10 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Earl of Suffolk. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 4. Act III. sc. 1. Act IV. i<c. 1. 
 Act V. sc. 3; sc. 5. 
 
 Loud Talbot, afterwards Earl of Shreioshury. 
 Appears f Act I. sc. i; sc. 5. Actll. sc. 1; sc. 2; sc. 3. Actlll. 
 sc. 2 ; sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 5 ; sc. 6 ; sc. 7. 
 
 John Talbot, son to Lord Talbot. 
 Appear Si Act IV. sc. 5 ; sc. 6 ; sc. 7. 
 
 Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March. 
 Appear Si Act II. sc. 5. 
 
 Mortimer's Keeper. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 5. 
 
 A Lawyer. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 4. 
 
 Sir John Fastolfe. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 2. Act IV. 1. 
 
 Sir William Lucy. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 3 ; sc. 4 ; sr. 7. 
 
 Sir William Glansdalk. 
 Appears y Act I. sc. 4. 
 
 Sir Thomas Gargrave. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 4. 
 
 Mayor of London. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1, 
 
 Woodville, Lieutenant of the Toicer. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. 
 
 Vernon, of tJie White Rose, or York, faction. 
 /Ippears, Act II. sc. 4. Act III. sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 Bassist, of the Red Rose, or Lancaster, faction. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 4. Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
PERSONS REPRESENTED. 11 
 
 Charles, Dauphin, and afterwards King, of France. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 2 ; sc. 5 ; sc. 6. Act II. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 5? ; 
 sc. 3. Act iV. sc. 7. Act V. sc. 2 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Keignier, Dukeof Anjoxi, and titular Kinj of Najilcs, 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 2 ; sc. G. Act II. sc. 1. Act V. 
 sc. 3 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Duke of Burgundy. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act III. sc. 2 ; sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 7. 
 Act V. sc. 2. 
 
 Duke of Alen^on. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 2. Act II. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 2 ; sc. 3. 
 Act IV. sc. 7. Act V. sc. 2 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Governor of Paris. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 Bastard of Orleans. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 2. Act II. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 2 ; sc. 3. 
 Act IV. sc. 7. Act V. sc. 4. 
 
 Master-Gunner of Orleans, and his Son. 
 Appear, Act 1. sc. 4. 
 
 General of the French Forces in Buordcaux. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2. 
 
 A French Sergeant. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 1. 
 
 A Porter. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 An old Shepherd, y<:5^^/^er to Joan la Pucelle. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 4. 
 
 Margaret, daughter to Reignier ; afterwards married 
 to King Henry. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 3. 
 
12 persot;s represented. 
 
 Countess of Auvergne. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 Joan la Pucelle, co7nmonly called Joan of Arc. 
 Appeals, Act I. sc. 2 : sc. 5 ; sc. 6. Act IT. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 2 ; 
 sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 7. Act V. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, Warders of 
 the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, 
 and several Attendants ooth on the English and 
 French. 
 
 SCENE, — PARTLY IN England, and pahtly in 
 France. 
 
13 
 
 KING IIENIIY VI. 
 
 PART 1. 
 
 ACT 1. 
 
 SCENE I.— Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Dead march. Cojyse o/King Henry V. discove cd. 
 lying in state; attended on by the Dukes of Bed- 
 ford, Gloster, and Exeter ; the Earl of War- 
 wick, the Bishop of Winchester, Heralds, l^c. 
 
 Bed. Hung be the heavens witli black, yield day to 
 night ! 
 
 Comets, importing change of times ar-vl st;stoK, 
 Brandish your crystal tresses in tiie ;il<y ) 
 And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, 
 That have consented* unto Henry's deatli 1 
 King Henry the fifth, too famous to live long ! 
 England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. 
 
 Glo. England ne'er had a king until his time. 
 Virtue he had, deserving to command : 
 His brandish'd sword did blind men with Ins beams ] 
 His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings ; 
 His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fir^, 
 More dazzled and drove back his enemies. 
 Than mid-day sim, fierce bent against their faces. 
 What should I say ? his deeds exceed all st^eech : 
 He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered. 
 
 * Consented. Probably the word should be speit concented. 
 To concent is to be in harmony — to act together. 
 
U KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act I. 
 
 Exe. We mourn in black : Why mourn we not in 
 blood? 
 
 Henry is dead, and never shall revive : 
 Upon a wooden coffin we attend : 
 And death's dishonourable victory 
 We with our stately presence glorify, 
 Like captives bound to a triumphant car. 
 What! shall we curse the planets of mishap. 
 That plotted tlius our glory's overthrow ? 
 Or shall we think the subtle-witted French 
 Conjurers and sorcerers, tliat, afraid of him, 
 By magic verses have contrived his end ? 
 
 TFm. He was a king bless'd of the King of kings. 
 Unto the F rencli the dreadful judgment-day 
 So dreadful will not be, as was his sight. 
 The battles of the Lord of hosts lie fought : 
 The church's prayers made him so ])rosperous. 
 
 Glo. The church ! where is it? Had not clnuchmen 
 pray'd, 
 
 His thread of life had not so soon decay'd ; 
 None do you like but an effeminate prince. 
 Whom, like a schoolboy, you may over-awe. 
 
 Wm. Gloster, whate'er v/e like, thou art protector ; 
 And lookest to command the prince and realm. 
 Thy wife is proud ; she holdetli thee in awe, 
 Moie than God or religious churchmen may. 
 
 Glo. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh ; 
 And ne'er throughout the yesiY to ciiurch thou go'st, 
 Except it be to pray against thy foes. 
 
 Bed. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds iti 
 peace ! 
 
 Let 's to the altar : — Heralds, wait on us : — 
 Instead of gold, we '11 offer up our arms ; 
 Since arms avail not, now that Henry 's dead. 
 Posterity, await for v/retched years, 
 When at their mothers' moisten'd eyes babes shall 
 suck ; 
 
ib 
 
 Our isle be made a nourish^ of salt tears, 
 And none but women left to wail the dead. 
 Henry the (iftli ! thy ghost I invocate ; 
 Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils ! 
 Combat with adverse planets in the heavens 1 
 A far more glorious star thy soul will make, 
 Than Julius Caesar, or bright 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My honourable lords, health to you all ! 
 Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, 
 Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture : 
 Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans, 
 Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. 
 
 Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead IIenry'« 
 corse ? 
 
 Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns 
 
 Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death. 
 Glo. Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up? 
 
 If Henry were recall'd to life again, 
 
 These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. 
 Exe. How were they lost ? what treachery was us'd % 
 Mess. No treachery ; but want of men and money. 
 
 Amongst the soldiers this is muttered, — 
 
 That here you maintain several factions ; 
 
 And, whilst a field should be despatch'd and fouglit, 
 
 You are disputing of your generals. 
 
 One would have lingering wars, with little cost ; 
 
 Another would fly swift, but wantetii wings ; 
 
 A third man thinks, without expense at all, 
 
 By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. 
 
 Awake, awake, English nobility I 
 
 Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot : 
 
 Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ; 
 
 Of England's coat one half is cut away. 
 
 ^ Nourish. Nourice, nourish, nursh, are the same words. 
 
16 KING HENRY VI.— PART 1. [act i. 
 
 Exe. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, 
 These tidings would call forth her flowinij^ tides. 
 
 Bed. ]Me they conceni ; recent I am of France : 
 Give me my steeled coat, I '11 figlit for France. 
 Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! 
 Wounds will I lend the French, instead of eyes. 
 To weep their intermissive miseries. 
 
 E}iter another Messenger. 
 
 2 Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of bad mis- 
 
 chance : 
 
 France is revolted from the English quite ; 
 Except some petty towns of no import : 
 The dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; 
 The bastard of Orleans with him is join'd ; 
 Reignier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part ; 
 The duke of J^lengon flieth to his side. 
 
 Exe. The dauphin cro',*ned king ! all fly to him ! 
 O, whither shall we fly from this reproach ? 
 
 Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats : — 
 Bedford, if thou be "slack, I '11 fight it out. 
 
 Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness ? 
 An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, 
 Wherewith already France is overrun. 
 
 Erder a third Messenger. 
 
 3 Mess. ]My gracious lords, — to add to your lament.^', 
 Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's hearse,—' 
 
 I must inform you of a dismal fight 
 
 Betwixt the stout lord Talbot and the French. 
 
 Win. What ! wherein Talbot overcame ? is 't so ? 
 
 3 Mess. O, no ; wlierein lord Talbot was o'erthrownj 
 The circumstance 1 11 tell you more at large. 
 The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, 
 Retiring from the siege of Orleans, 
 Having full scarce six thousand in his troop. 
 By three-and-twenty thousand of the French 
 Was round encompassed and set upon : 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 KING HENRY VI,— PART I. 
 
 17 
 
 No leisure had he to enrank his men ; 
 
 He wanted pikes to set before his archers ; 
 
 Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of hedges, 
 
 They pitched in the ground confusedly, 
 
 To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. 
 
 More than three hours the fight continued ; 
 
 Where valiant Talbot, above human tliouglit, 
 
 Enacted wonders with his sword and lance. 
 
 Hundreds he sent to liell, and none durst stand him ; 
 
 Here, there, and everywhere, enrag'd he slew : 
 
 The French exclaimed, The devil was in arms ; 
 
 All the whole army stood agaz'd on him : 
 
 His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, 
 
 A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain, 
 
 And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. 
 
 Here had the conquest fully been seaVd up, 
 
 If sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward; 
 
 He, being in the vaward,^ (plac'd behind, 
 
 With purpose to relieve and follow them,) 
 
 Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. 
 
 Hence grew the general wrack and massacre ; 
 
 Enclosed were they with their enemies : 
 
 A base Walloon, to win the dauphin's grace. 
 
 Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back ; 
 
 Whom all France, with their chief assembled sirength, 
 
 Durst not presume to look once in the face. 
 
 Bed. Is Talbot slain ? then I will slay myself, 
 For living idly here, in pomp and ease, 
 Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, 
 Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd. 
 
 3 Mess. O no, he lives ; but is took prisoner, 
 And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerford . 
 Most of the rest slaugliterM, or took, likewise. 
 
 Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall pay : 
 
 ^ Vaward — the van. The exphmation of the commentators, 
 sucli as it is, we give : ''When an army is attacked in tlie rear, 
 Uie van becomes the rear in its turn, and of course the reserve,'* 
 VOL. VI. C 
 
18 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART 1. [Act I. 
 
 I '11 hale the dauphin headlonji^ from iiis throne, — 
 His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ; 
 Four of their lords I '11 change for one of ours. 
 Farewell, my masters ; to my task will I ; 
 Bonfires in France forthwith 1 am to make, 
 To keep our great Saint George's feast withal : 
 Ten thousand sjldiers with me I will take, 
 Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake. 
 
 3 Mess. So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd; 
 The English army is grown weak and faint : 
 The earl of Salisbury craveth supply, 
 And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, 
 Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. 
 
 Exe. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn, 
 Either to quell the dauphin utterly. 
 Or bring him in obedience to your yoke. 
 
 Bed. I do remember it ; and here take my leave, 
 To go about my preparation. \_ExlL 
 
 Glo. 1 '11 to the Tower, with all the haste I can, 
 To view the artillery and munition ; 
 And then I will proclaim young Henry king. \^Exit. 
 
 Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young king is, 
 Being ordain'd his special governor ; 
 And for his safety there I '11 best devise. [Exit 
 
 Win. Each hath his place and function to attend : 
 I am left out ; for me nothing remains. 
 But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office ; 
 The king from Eltham I intend to send. 
 And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. 
 
 [Exit. Scene closes, 
 
 SCENE II.— France. Before Orleans. 
 
 E7iter Charles, with his Forces; Alenqon, Reiq- 
 NiER, and others. 
 
 Char. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens, 
 So in the earth, to this day is not known : 
 
SciiNE II.] 
 
 KING HENRY^VI.— PART I. 
 
 19 
 
 Late did he sliine upon the Englisli side ; 
 Now we are victors, upon us he smiles. 
 What towns of any moment but we have ? 
 At pleasure here we lie near Orleans ; 
 Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, 
 Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. 
 
 Alen. They want their porridge and their fat bull- 
 beeves : 
 
 Eitlier they must be dieted like mules. 
 
 And have their provender tied to their mouths, 
 
 Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. 
 
 Reig. Let 's raise the siege : Why live we idly here ? 
 Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear ; 
 Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury ; 
 And he may well in fretting spend his gall, ^ 
 Nor men nor money hath he to make war. 
 
 Char. Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on them. 
 Now for the honour of the forlorn French : — 
 Him I forgive my death that killeth me. 
 When he sees me go back one foot, or fly. [ Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums. • They are beaten bach by the English, with 
 great loss. Re-enter Charles, Alenqon, Reig- 
 NiEii, and others. 
 
 Char. Who ever saw the like ? what men have I ? — 
 Dogs ! cowards ! dastards ! — I would ne'er have fled, 
 But that they left me midst my enemies. 
 
 Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide ; 
 He fighteth as one weary of his life. 
 The other lords, like lions wanting food. 
 Do rush upon us as their hungry prey. 
 
 Alen. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records, 
 England all Olivers and Rowlands bred 
 During the time Edward the third did reign. 
 More truly now may this be verified ; 
 For none but Samsons, and Goliasses, 
 It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten I 
 
 c 2 
 
20 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act I. 
 
 Lean raw-bon'd rascals ! who would e'er suppose 
 They liad such courage and audacity 
 
 Char. Let 's leave this town ; for they are hair- 
 brain'd slaves, 
 And hunger will enforce them to be more eager : 
 Of old I know them ; rather with their teeth 
 The walls they '11 tear down than forsake the siege. 
 
 jReig. I think, by some odd gimmers or device, 
 Their arms are set like clocks, still to strike on ; 
 Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. 
 By my consent, we '11 even let them alone. 
 
 Alen, Be it so. 
 
 Enter the Bastard of Orleans. 
 
 Bast. Where 's the prince dauphin ? I have news 
 for him. 
 
 Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. 
 Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer ^ ap- 
 pall'd; 
 
 Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? 
 
 Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand : 
 
 A holy maid hither with me I bi'ing, 
 
 Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven. 
 
 Ordained is to raise this tedious siege, 
 
 And drive the English forth the bounds of France. 
 
 The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, 
 
 Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome ; 
 
 What 's past, and what 's to come, she can descry. 
 
 Speak, shall I call her in ? Believe my v/ords, 
 
 For they are certain and unfallible. 
 
 Char. Go, call her in : [Exit Bastard] But, first, 
 to try her skill, 
 Reignier, stand thou as dauphin in my place : 
 Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern : — 
 By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. 
 
 [Retires. 
 
 ^ C/ie6T— countenance. 
 
Scene IL] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. £1 
 
 Enter La Pucelle, Bastard of Orleans, cmd 
 others. 
 
 Reig. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wondrous 
 feats? 
 
 Puc. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me ? 
 ^yhe^e is the dauphin ? — come, come from behind j 
 I know thee well, though never seen before. 
 Be not amazM, there 's nothing hid from me : 
 In private will I talk with thee apart ; — 
 Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile. 
 
 Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first dasli. 
 
 Piic. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter^ 
 My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. 
 Heaven, and our Lady gracious, hath it pleased 
 To shine on my contemptible estate : 
 Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs. 
 And to sun's parching heat display 'd my cheeks, 
 God's mother deigned to appear to me ; 
 And, in a vision full of majesty, 
 Will'd me to leave my base vocation, 
 And free my country from calamity : 
 Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success : 
 In complete glory she reveal'd herself ; 
 And, whereas I was black and swart before, 
 With those clear rays which she infus'd on nie, 
 That beauty am I bless'd with which you may see. 
 Ask me what question thou canst possible, 
 And I will answer unpremeditated : 
 My courage try by combat, if tliou dar'st, 
 And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. 
 Resolve^ on this : Thou shalt be fortunate 
 If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. 
 
 Char. Thou hast astoriish'd me with thy high terms : 
 Only this proof 1 11 of thy valour make, — 
 In single combat thoii shalt buckle with me : 
 ^ Resolve — ^l^e firmly persuaded. 
 
22 
 
 KING HENUY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 And if thou vanqulshest thy words are true ; 
 Otherwise I renounce all confidence. 
 
 Puc. I am prepared : here is my keen-edg'd sword, 
 Deck'd with fine flower-de-luces on each side ; 
 The which, at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's church- 
 yard. 
 
 Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth. 
 
 Char. Then come, o' God s name, 1 fear no woman. 
 Puc. And, while I live, 1 '11 ne'er fly from a man. 
 
 \_They Jight, and La Pucei.le overco7nes. 
 Char. Stay, stay tliy hands ; thou art an Amazon, 
 And fightest with the sword of Deborah. 
 
 Puc. Christ's mother helps me, else 1 were too weak. 
 Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 't is thou that must help 
 me : 
 
 Impatiently I burn with thy desire : 
 
 My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued. 
 
 Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, 
 
 Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be ; 
 
 'T is the French dauphin sueth to thee thup. 
 
 Puc. I must not yield to any rites of lovo, 
 For my profession 's sacred from above : 
 When I have chased all thy foes from hence. 
 Then will I think upon a recompense. 
 
 Char. Meantime, look gracious on thy prostrate 
 thrall. 
 
 Peig. My lord, methlnks, is very long In talk. 
 Alc7i. Doubtless, he shrives this woman to her smock ; 
 Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. 
 
 Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean ? 
 Alen. He may mean more than we poor men do 
 know : 
 
 These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. 
 
 Peig. My lord, where are you? what devise you on ? 
 Shall we give over Orleans, or no ? 
 
 Puc. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants! 
 Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard. 
 
Scene III.J KING HENRY VI.-PART I. £3 
 
 Char, What she says I '11 confirm ; we 11 figlit it 
 out. 
 
 Puc. Assigned am I to be the English scourge. 
 This night the siege assuredly I '11 raise : 
 Expect Saint Martin's summer,^ halcyon days, 
 Since I have entered into these wars. 
 Glory is like a circle in the water, 
 Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 
 Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nouglit. 
 With Henry's death the English circle ends ; 
 Dispersed are the glories it included. 
 Now am I like that proud insulting ship 
 Which Caesar and liis fortune bare at once. 
 
 Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove ? 
 Thou with an eagle art inspired then. 
 Helen, the mother of great Constantine, 
 Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters, were like thee. 
 Bright star of Venus, falFn down on the earUi, 
 How may I reverently worship thee enough ? 
 
 Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise tlie siege. 
 
 Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save cur 
 honours ; 
 
 Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd. 
 
 Char. Presently we'll try: — Come, let 's av/ay 
 about it : 
 
 No prophet will I trast, if she prove false. [Exeimt. 
 
 SCENE III.— London. Hill before the Tower. 
 
 Enter, at the gates, the Duke of Gloster, ti^iY/^ /u'5 
 Serving-men in hlite coats. 
 Glo. I am come to survey the Tower this day : 
 Since Henry's death, I fear there is conveyance.^ 
 Where be these warders, that they wait not here ? 
 Open the gates ; 't is Gloster tliat calls. [Servants knock. 
 
 ^ Saint Martins suinmer—Hne weather in November — prcf^i- 
 perity after misfortune, 
 b ConveT/ance—tliel't. 
 
24 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act I. 
 
 1 Ward. iWithin.'] Who 's there that Ivnocks so im- 
 periously ? 
 
 1 Serv. It is the noble duke of Gloster. 
 
 2 Ward. [Withi7i.^ Whoe'er he be, you may not be 
 
 let in. 
 
 1 Serv. Villains, answer you so the lord protector? 
 1 Ward. [Within.'] The Lord protect liim ! so \vc 
 
 answer him : 
 We do no otherwise than we are will'd. 
 
 Glo. Who willed you? or whose will stands but 
 
 mine? 
 
 There 's none protector of the realm but 1. 
 Break up the gates, I '11 be your warrantize : 
 Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms ? 
 
 Servants rush at the Tower gates. Enter to the gates, 
 WooDViLLE, the Lieutenant. 
 
 Wood. ^^Withm.'] What noise is this? what traitors 
 have we here ? 
 
 Glo. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear? 
 Open the gates ; here 's Gloster that would enter. 
 
 Wood. [\Vithin.'\ Have patience, noble duke; I 
 may not open ; 
 The cardinal of Winchester forbids : 
 From him I have express commandment, 
 That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in. 
 
 Glo. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him Tore me? 
 Arrogant Winchester? that haughty prelate, 
 Wliom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook? 
 Thou art no friend to God, or to the king •. 
 Open the gates, or I '11 shut thee out shortly. 
 
 1 Serv. Open the gates unto the lord protector ; 
 Or we '11 burst them open, if that you come hot quickly. 
 
 Enter Winchester, attended by a train of Ser^^ants 
 in taiony coats. 
 Win. How now, ambitious Humplirey ? what means 
 this? 
 
ScKNE III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 25 
 
 Glo. Peel'd^ priest, dost lliou command me to be 
 shut out ? 
 
 IVin. I do, thou most usurping proditor, 
 And not protector of the king or rcahn. 
 
 Glo. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator ; 
 Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord ; 
 Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin: 
 1 '11 canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, 
 If thou proceed in this thy insolence. 
 
 Win. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a fool : 
 This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, 
 To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.^ 
 
 Glo. I will not slay thee, but I '11 drive thee back : 
 Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing cloth 
 I 'il use, to carry thee out of this place. 
 
 Win. Do what thou dar'st ; I beard thee to thy face. 
 
 Glo. What ! am I dar'd, and bearded to my face ? — 
 Draw, men, for all this privileged place ; 
 Blue-coats to tawny -coats. Priest, beware your beard ; 
 
 [Gloster and his men attack the Bishop. 
 I mean to tug it, and to cufi'you soundly : 
 Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat ; 
 In spite of pope, or dignities of church, 
 Here by the cheeks I '11 drag thee up and down. 
 
 Win. Gloster, thou 'It answer this before the pope. 
 
 Glo. Winchester goose ! I cry — a rope ! a rope ! 
 Now beat them hence : Why do you let them stay ? — 
 Thee I '11 chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.— 
 Out, tawny-coats ! — out, scarlet hypocrite ! 
 
 Here a great tumult. In the midst of it, enter the 
 Mayor of London, and Officers. 
 
 May. Fie, lords ! that you, being supreme magistrates?, 
 Thus contumeliously should break the peace ! 
 
 ^ PeeVd — an allusion to the shaven crown of the priest. 
 The old travellers believed that Damascus was the scene of 
 the first murder. 
 
20 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act I. 
 
 Glo. Peace, mayor; thou know'st little of my 
 wrongs. 
 
 Here 's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, 
 Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. 
 
 Win. Here 's Gloster, too, a foe to citizens ; 
 One that still motions war, and never peace, 
 Overcharging your free purses with large fines ; 
 That seeks to overthrow religion. 
 Because he is protector of the realm ; 
 And would have armour here out of the Tower, 
 To crown himself king, and suppress the prince. 
 
 Glo. I will not answer thee with words, but hlows. 
 
 [Here they skirmish again. 
 
 May. Nought rests for me, in this tumultuous strife, 
 But to make open proclamation: — 
 Come, officer, as loud as e'er thou canst cry. 
 
 Off. "All manner of men, assembled here in arms 
 this day, against God's peace and the king's, we charge 
 and command you, in liis highness' name, to repair to 
 your several dwelling-places ; and not to wear, handle, 
 or use, any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, 
 upon pain of death." 
 
 Glo. Cardinal, I '11 be no breaker of the law : 
 But we shall meet, and break our minds at large. 
 
 Win. Gloster, we '11 meet ; to thy dear cost, be 
 sure : 
 
 Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work. 
 
 May. I "11 call for clubs, if you will not away : — 
 Tliis cardinal is more hauglity than the devil. 
 
 Glo. Mayor, farewell : thou dost but what thou 
 mayst. 
 
 Win. Abominable Gloster !• guard thy head ; 
 For I intend to have it, ere long. \_Exeunt. 
 May. See the coast clear'd, and tlien we will 
 depart. — 
 
 Good God ! that nobles should such stomachs bear ! 
 I myself fight not once in forty year. [Exeunt. 
 
Scene V."" KING HENRY VL—PAUT 1. 
 
 27 
 
 SCENE IV.— France. Before Orleans. 
 Enter, on the vmllsy the Master-Gunner and his Son. 
 
 M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is 
 besieg'd, 
 
 And how the English have the subuibs won. 
 
 Son. Father, I know ; and oft have shot at them, 
 Howe'er, imfortunate, I miss'd my aim. 
 
 M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by 
 me : 
 
 Chief master-gunner am I of this town ; 
 
 Something I must do to procure me grace. 
 
 The prince's espials^ have informed me, 
 
 Hew the English, in the suburbs close intrenched, 
 
 Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars 
 
 In yonder tower, to overpeer the city ; 
 
 And thence discover how, with most advantage. 
 
 They may vex us, with shot, or with assaidt. 
 
 To intercept this inconvenience, 
 
 A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd ; 
 
 And fully even these three days have I watch'd 
 
 If I could see them. Now, boy, do thou watch, 
 
 For I can stay no longer. 
 
 If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word ; 
 
 And thou shalt find me at the governor s. [Exit. 
 
 So7i. Father, I warrant you ; take you no care ; 
 I 11 never trouble you if I may spy them. 
 
 Enter, in a7i upper chamber of a tower, the Lords 
 Salisbury and Talbot, Sir William Glans- 
 DALE, Sir Thomas Gargrave, and others. 
 
 Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned ! 
 How wert thou handled, being prisoner 
 Or by what means gott'st thou to be releasVl 1 
 Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top. 
 
 ^ Espials — spies. 
 
28 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act L 
 
 Tal, The duke of Bedford had a prisoner, 
 Called the brave lord Ponton de Santrailles ; 
 For him was 1 exchanged and ransomed. 
 But with a baser man of arms by far, 
 Once, in contempt, they would liave barter'd me ; 
 Which I, disdaining, scorn'd ; and craved death, 
 Ratlier tlian I would be so piFd-esteem'd.* 
 In fine, redeemed I was as I desir'd. 
 But, O ! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart ! 
 Whom with my bare fists I would execute, 
 If I now had him brought into my power. 
 
 Sal. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd. 
 
 Tal. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious 
 taunts. 
 
 In open market-place produc'd they me, 
 
 To be a public spectacle to all : 
 
 Here, said they, is the terror of the French, 
 
 The scarecrow that affrights our children so. 
 
 Then broke I from the officers that led me ; 
 
 And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground, 
 
 To hurl at the beholders of my shame. 
 
 My grisly countenance made others fiy ; 
 
 None durst come near, for fear of sudden deatli. 
 
 In iron walls they doem'd me not secure ; 
 
 So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread, 
 
 Tliat they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel. 
 
 And spurn in pieces posts of adamant : 
 
 Wherefore a guard of cbpsen shot I had, 
 
 That walk'd about me every minute-while; 
 
 And if I did but stir out of my bed. 
 
 Ready they were to slioot me to the heart. 
 
 Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd ; 
 But we will be reveng'd sufficiently. 
 Now it is supper-time in Orleans : 
 Here, thorougli this grate, I count ea(ih one, 
 
 ^ PtV d-esteerri d. It has been sujjgested to us that ptVd is 
 from pili — " Flocci, nauci, iiihili, pili." 
 
Scene IV.j KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 29 
 
 And view the Frenchmen how they fortify ; 
 
 Let us look in, the sight will much delight thee. 
 
 Sir Thomas Gargrav^e, and sir William Glansdale, 
 
 Let me liave your express opinions, 
 
 Where is best place to make our battery next. 
 
 Gar. I think, at the north gate ; for there sfand 
 lords. 
 
 Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. 
 Tal. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd, 
 Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. 
 
 yshot from the town, Sal. and Gxn.falL 
 Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners ! 
 Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man ! 
 Tal. What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd 
 us ?— 
 
 Speak, Salisbury ; at least, if thou canst speak ; 
 
 How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? 
 
 One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side, struck olT!^ 
 
 Accursed tower ! accursed fatal hand. 
 
 That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy ! 
 
 In thirteen battles Salisbury overcame ; 
 
 Henry the fifth he first train *d to the wars ; 
 
 Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up, 
 
 His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. 
 
 Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury ? though thy speech doth fail, 
 
 One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace : 
 
 The sun with one eye viewetli all the world. 
 
 Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive. 
 
 If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hand ! 
 
 Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it. 
 
 Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life ? 
 
 Speak unto Talbot ; nay, look up to him. 
 
 Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfoit ; 
 
 Thou shalt not die, whiles 
 
 He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me ; 
 As who should say, " When I am dead and gone, 
 Remember to avenge me on the French." — 
 
30 KING HENllY VI.— PART I. [Act I. 
 
 Plantageiiet, I will ; and like thee, Nero, 
 Play en the lute, beholding the towns burn : 
 Wretched sliall France be only in my name. 
 
 [ Thunder heard; aftericards an alarum. 
 What stir is this ? What tumult "s in the heavens ? 
 Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise ? 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, my lord, the French nave gathered 
 head : 
 
 The dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, — 
 
 A holy prophetess, new risen up, — 
 
 Is come with a great power to raise the siege. 
 
 [Sal. groans, 
 Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan ! 
 It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd. — 
 Frenchmen, I '11 be a Salisbury to you : — 
 Pucelle or puzzel,^ dolphin or dogfish, 
 Your hearts I 11 stamp out with my horse's heels, 
 And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. 
 Convey me Salisbury into iiis tent, 
 And tlien we '11 try wliat these dastard Frenclimen 
 dare. \_Exeunt, bearing otit the bodies, 
 
 SCENE V. — The same. Before one of the Gates, 
 
 Alarum. Skirmishmgs. Talbot j^ursueth the Dau- 
 phin, and driveth him iii ; then enter Joan la 
 Pucelle, driving Englishmen before her. Then 
 enter Talbot. 
 
 Tal. W here is my strength, my valour, and my force ? 
 Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them ; 
 A woman, clad in armour, chaseth them. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle. 
 Here, here she comes : — I '11 have a bout with thee ; 
 ^ Puzzel—Si dirty drab. 
 
Scene V.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 31 
 
 Devil, or devil's dam, I '11 conjure thee : 
 Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,^ 
 And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st. 
 
 Puc. Come, come, 't is only I that must disgrace 
 thee. [Theyjight. 
 
 Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail ? 
 My breast I '11 burst with straining of my courage. 
 And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, 
 But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. 
 
 Puc. Talbot, farewell ; thy hour is not yet come : 
 I must go victual Orleans forthwith. 
 O'er take me, if thou canst ; I scorn thy strength. 
 Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men ; 
 Help Salisbury to make his testament : 
 This day is ours, as manj'- more shall he, 
 
 [PucELLE e7iters the Town, with Soldiers. 
 
 Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel ; 
 I know not where I am, nor what I do : 
 A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal,^ 
 Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists : 
 So bees with smoke, and doves v/ith noisome stench. 
 Are from their hives and houses driven away. 
 They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs ; 
 Now, like to whelps, we crying run a^vay. 
 
 [A short alanmi. 
 Hark, countrymen ! either renew the fight, 
 Or tear the lions out of England's coat ; 
 Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead : 
 Sheep run not half so timorous from the wolf. 
 Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard, 
 As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. 
 
 [Alanim. Another skirmish. 
 
 ^ The superstitious belief was, that to draw blood from a 
 witch "Was to destroy hei- power. 
 
 b An illusion to Hannibal's stratagem, recorded in Livy, of 
 fising lighted twigs on the horns of oxen. 
 
32 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act I. 
 
 It will not be : — Retire into your trenches : 
 
 You all consented unto Salisbury's death, 
 
 For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. — 
 
 Pucelle is entered into Orleans, 
 
 In spite of us, or auglit that we could do. 
 
 O, would I were to die with Salisbury ! 
 
 The shame hereof will make me hide my nead ! 
 
 [Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt Tal. and his ForceSy S^c. 
 
 SCENE Yl.^Thesamc, 
 
 Enter, on the icalls, Pucelle, Charles, Reignieh, 
 Alenqon, and Soldiers. 
 
 Puc. Advance our waving colours on the walls ; 
 Rescued is Orleans from the English wolves ; — 
 Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word. 
 
 Char. Divinest creature, bright Astr^a's daughter, 
 How shall I honour thee for this success ? 
 Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, 
 That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the next. — 
 France, triumph in thy glorious jorophetess ! — 
 Recovered is the town of Orleans : 
 More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. 
 
 Reig. Why ring not out the bells aloud througliout 
 the town ? 
 
 Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, 
 And feast and banquet in the open streets. 
 To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. 
 
 Alen. All France will be replete with mirth and 
 
 When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. 
 
 Char. 'T is Joan, not we, by whom the day is won ; 
 For which, I will divide my crown wltli her : 
 And all the priests and friars in my realm 
 Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise. 
 A statelier pyramis to her I '11 rear. 
 
ScKNsVI ] KING IIENKY VI.— PAKT I. 
 
 Tlian Rliodope's, or Memphis','^ ever was : 
 
 In memoiy of her, when slie is dead, 
 
 Her ashes, in an urn more precious 
 
 Than the rich jewell'd cofler of Darius, 
 
 Transported shall be at liigh festivals 
 
 Before the kings and queens of France. 
 
 No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry. 
 
 But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. 
 
 Come in : and let us banquet royally, 
 
 After this golden day of victory. [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
 We should probably read, 
 
 "Than Rhodope's, 0/ Memphis." 
 
 vol.. VI. 
 
 D 
 
34 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act IL 
 
 ACT IL 
 
 SCENE I.— Orleans. 
 
 Enter to the gates , a French Sergeant, and Two 
 Sentinels. 
 
 Serg. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant : 
 If any noise, or soldier, you perceive 
 Near to the walls, by some apparent sign 
 Let us have knowledge at the court of guard. 
 
 1 Sent. Sergeant, you shall. \_Exit Sergeant.] Thus 
 are poor servitors 
 (When others sleep upon their quiet beds) 
 Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold. 
 
 Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and Forces^ 
 with scaling ladders ; their drums heating a dead 
 march. 
 
 Tal. Lord regent, and redoubted Burgundy, — 
 By whose approach, the regions of Artois, 
 Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us, — 
 This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, 
 Having all day carous'd and banqueted : 
 Embrace we then this opportunity ; 
 As fitting best to quittance their deceit, 
 Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery. 
 
 Bed. Coward of France ! — how much he wrongs his 
 fame, 
 
 Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, 
 
 To join with witches, and the help of hell ! 
 
 Bur. Traitors have never other company. 
 But what 's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure ? 
 
 Tal. A maid, they say. 
 
 Bed, A maid ! and be so martial ! 
 
Sc£2iE I.] KING llhNllY VI.— PART I. 
 
 Bur, Pray God she prove not masculine ere long ; 
 If underneath the standard of the French, 
 She carry armour, as she hath begun. 
 
 'Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with 
 spirits : 
 
 God is our fortress ; in whose conquering name 
 Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. 
 
 Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot ; we will follow thee. 
 
 Tal. Not all together : better far, I guess, 
 That we do make our entrance several ways ; 
 That if it chance the one of us do fail. 
 The other yet may rise against their force. 
 
 Bed. iVgreed; 1 11 to yon corner. 
 
 Bur. And I to this. 
 
 Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make iiis 
 grave. 
 
 Now, Salisbury ! for thee, and for the right 
 Of English Henry, shall this night appear 
 How much in duty I am bound to both. 
 
 \_The Euglish scale the walls^ crying St. George ! 
 A Talbot! and all enter by the Town. 
 Sent. \_Within.'] Arm, arm! the enemy doth make 
 assault ! 
 
 The French leap over the tcalls in their shirts. Enter, 
 several tcays, Bastard, Alenc;on, Reignier, half 
 ready y and half unready. 
 
 Alen. How now, my lords? what, all nnreaJy* so? 
 Bast. Unready ? ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well. 
 Reig. 'T was time, I trow, to wake and leave our 
 beds. 
 
 Hearing alarums at our chamber doors. 
 
 Alen. Of all exploits, since first I follow'd arms. 
 Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise 
 More venturous or desperate than this. 
 
 Bast. I think tliis Talbot be a fiend of hell. 
 ■ Unready — undressed. 
 
 D 2 
 
36 KING HENRY VI.-PART I. [Acj II. 
 
 Reig. If not of hell, the heavens sure favour him. 
 Alen. Here cometli Charles j I marvel how he 
 sped. 
 
 Eriter Charles and La Pucelle. 
 
 Bast. Tut ! holy Joan was his defensive guard. 
 
 Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame ? 
 Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal. 
 Make us partakers of a little gain, 
 That now our loss might be ten times so much? 
 
 Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend ? 
 At all times will you have my power alike ? 
 Sleeping, or waking, must I still prevail. 
 Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ? 
 Improvident soldiers ! had your watch been good, 
 This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. 
 
 Char. Duke of Alen^on, this was your default; 
 That, being captain of the watch to-night, 
 Did look no better to that weiglity charge. 
 
 Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely kept 
 As that whereof I had the government, 
 We had not been thus shamefully surprised. 
 
 Bast. Mine was secure. 
 
 Reig. And so was mine, my lord. 
 
 Char. And, for myself, most part of all this niglit. 
 Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, 
 I was employ 'd in passing to and fro, 
 About relieving of the sentinels : 
 Then how, or which way, sliould they first break in ? 
 
 Pnc. Question, my lords, no further of the case. 
 How, or which way ; 't is sure, they found some place 
 But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. 
 And now there rests no other shift but this, — 
 To gather our soldiers, scattered and dispersed, 
 And lay new platforms to endamage them. 
 
 °- Ptoi/wws— plans. 
 
Scene ll ] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 37 
 
 Alarwa. Enter an English Soldier, crying A Talbot ! 
 
 A Talbot ! They fly^ leaving their elothes behind. 
 
 Sold. I '11 be so bold to take what they have left. 
 The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword ; 
 For I have loaden me with many spoils, 
 Using no other weajKjn but his name. [Exit, 
 
 SCENE II.— Orleans. Within the Toion, 
 
 Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, a Ca2:)tain, 
 and others. 
 
 Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled. 
 Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. 
 Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit. 
 
 \_Retreat sounded. 
 
 Tal. Bring forth tlie body of old Salisbury ; 
 And here advance it in the market-place, 
 The middle centre of this cursed town. 
 Now have I paid my vow unto his soul ; 
 For every drop of blood was drawn from him, 
 There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night. 
 And, that hereafter ages may behold 
 What ruin liappen'd in revenge of him. 
 Within their chiefest temp»le I '11 erect 
 A tomb, wherein iiis corpse sliall be interr'd : 
 Upon the which, that every one may read, 
 Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans ; 
 The treacherous manner of his moui'uful death, 
 And v/hat a terror he had been to France. 
 But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, 
 I muse we met not with the dauphin's grace, 
 His new-come cliampion, virtuous Joan of Arc, 
 Nor any of his false confederates. 
 
 Bed. 'T is thought, lord Talbot, when the fight began, 
 Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, 
 Tliey did, amongst the troops of armed men, 
 Leap o'er the walls for refuge in tlie field. 
 
38 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PART I. [Act IL 
 
 Bur. Myself (as far as I could well discern, 
 For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night) 
 Am sure I scar'd the dauphin, and his trull ; 
 When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, 
 Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves. 
 That could not live asunder day or niglit. 
 After that things are set in order here, 
 We '11 follow them with all the power we have. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. All hail, my lords ! which of this princely train 
 Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts 
 So much applauded through the realm of France ? 
 
 Tal. Here is the Talbot ; who would speak with himi 
 
 Mess. The virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne, 
 With modesty admiring thy renown, 
 By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe 
 To visit her poor castle where she lies ; ^ 
 That she may boast she hath beheld the man 
 Whose glory fills the world with loud report. 
 
 Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars 
 Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport, 
 When ladies crave to be encountered with. 
 You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. 
 
 Tal. Ne'er trust me then ; for, when a world of nrieii 
 Could not prevail with all their oratory. 
 Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd : 
 And therefore tell her, I return great thanks ; 
 And in submission will attend on her. 
 Will not your honours bear me company ? 
 
 Bed. No, tridy ; it is more than manners v/ill : 
 And I have heard it said, — Unbidden guests 
 Are often welcomest when they are gone, 
 
 Tal. Well, then, alone (since there 's no remedy) 
 I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. 
 
 * dwells. 
 
Scene HI.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 39 
 
 Come hither, ca})tain. [Whispers.]— You. perceive my 
 mind. 
 
 Capt. I do, my lord ; and mean accordingly. \_Ex, 
 
 SCENE III,— Auvergne. Court of the Casile. 
 Enter the Countess and her Porter. 
 
 Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge ; 
 And when you have done so, luring the keys to me. 
 Port. Madam, I will. [Exit, 
 Count. The plot is laid : if all things fall out right, 
 I shall as famous be by this exploit 
 As Scythian Thomyris by Cyrus' death. 
 Great is the rumour of this dreadful laiight, 
 And his achievements of no less account : 
 Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, 
 To give their censure of these rare reports. 
 
 Enter Messenger and Talbot. 
 
 Mess. :Madam, 
 According as your ladyship desir'd. 
 By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come. 
 
 Cou7it. And he is welcome. What I is this the man? 
 
 Mess. Madam, it is. 
 
 Count. Is this the scourge of France? 
 
 Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad. 
 That with his name the mothers still their babes"? 
 I see report is fabulous and false : 
 I thought I should have seen some Hercules, 
 A second Hector, for his grim aspect, 
 And large proportion of his stror?g-knit limbs. 
 Alas ! this is a child, a silly dwarf : 
 It cannot be this weak and writhled^ shrimp 
 Should strike such 1 error to his enemies. 
 
 Tal. Madam, I liave been bold to trouble you : 
 But since your ladyship is not at leisure, 
 
 * CeHSwre— opinion. ^ /rm/</erf— wrinkled. 
 
40 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 -Act II. 
 
 I '11 sort some other time to visit you. 
 
 Count. What means he now ? — Go ask him wbitlier 
 he goes. 
 
 Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot ; for my lady craves 
 To know the cause of your abrupt departure. 
 
 2''al. Marry, for that she 's in a wrong belief, 
 I go to certify her Talbot 's here. 
 
 Re-enter Porter, with keys. 
 
 Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. 
 Tal. Prisoner ! to whom ? 
 
 Count. To me, bloodthirs^^y lord ; 
 
 And for that cause I train'd thee to my lioiise. 
 Long time thy sliadow hath been thrall to me, 
 For in my gallery thy picture hangs : 
 But now thy substance shall endure the like; 
 And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, 
 That hast by tyranny, these many years, 
 Wasted our country, slain our citizens, 
 And sent our sons and husbands captivate. 
 
 Tal. Ha, ha, ha ! 
 
 Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn 
 to moan. 
 
 Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so f(.;nc], 
 To think that you have auglit but Talbot's shado'.v, 
 Whereon to practise your severity. 
 
 Count. Why, art not tliou the man? 
 
 Tal. I am, indeed. 
 
 Count. Then have I substance too. 
 
 Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself: 
 You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here ; 
 For what you see is but the smallest part 
 And least proportion of humanity : 
 I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, 
 It is of such a spacious lofty pitch, 
 Your roof were not suflicient to contain it. 
 
 Count. This is a riddling mercliant for ti)e nonce; 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PAllT I. 
 
 41 
 
 He will be here, and yet be is not here : 
 How can these contrarieties agree? 
 Tal. That will I show you presently. 
 
 He winds a hern. Drums heard ; then a Peal of 
 Ordnance. The Gates being forced, enter Soldiers. 
 
 How say you, madam ? are you now persuaded 
 That Talbot is but shadow of himself? 
 These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, 
 With which he yoketh your rebellious necks ; 
 Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, 
 x\nd in a moment makes them desolate. 
 
 Count. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse : 
 I find thou art no less than fame hatli bruited. 
 And more than may be gathered by thy shape. 
 Let my presumption not provoke thy wratli ; 
 For I am sorry, that with reverence 
 I did not entertain thee as thou art. 
 
 Tal. Be not dismayed, fair lady ; nor misconster 
 The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake 
 The outward composition of his body. 
 What you have done hath not oftended me : 
 Nor other satisfaction do I crave, 
 But only (with your patience) that we may 
 Taste of your wine, and see what cates you liave ; 
 For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. 
 
 Count. With all my heart ; and thhik me honoured 
 To feast so great a warrior in my house. \_Ezeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.— London. The Temple Garden. 
 
 Enter the Earls of Somerset, Suffolk, and War- 
 wick ; Richard Plantagenet, Vernon, and an- 
 other Lawyer. 
 
 Flan. Great lords, and gentlemen, v/hat means tliis 
 silence ? 
 
 Dare no man answer in a case of truth? 
 
42 
 
 KING HENRY VI.^PART I. [Act IT. 
 
 Suf. Witbin the Temple hall we were too loud ; 
 The garden here is moie convenient. 
 
 Plan. Then say at once, If I maintain the truth ; 
 Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error? 
 
 Suf. 'Faith, I have been a truant in tb.e law ; 
 And never \ei could frame my will to it ; 
 And, tlierefore, frame the law unto my will. 
 
 Som. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then be- 
 tween us. 
 
 War. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitchy 
 Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, 
 Between two blades, which bears the better temper, 
 Between two horses, whicli doth bear him best. 
 Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, 
 I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgirient ; 
 But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, 
 Good faitli, I am no wiser than a daw. 
 
 Plan. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance : 
 The truth ap})ears so naked on my side, 
 That any purblind eye may find it out. 
 
 Som. And on my side it is so well apparelFd, 
 So clear, so shining, and so evident, 
 That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. 
 
 Plan. Since you are tongue-tied, and so loth to 
 speak. 
 
 In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts : 
 Lot iiim that is a true-born gentleman. 
 And stands upon the honour of his birth, 
 If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, 
 From oil' this })rier ■j)luck a white rose with me. 
 
 Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no llattcrer, 
 But dare maintain the party of the truth, 
 Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. 
 
 War. I love no colours;'' and, without all colour 
 Of base insinuating flattery, 
 I pluck this white rosp, with Plantagenet. 
 
 ^ Colours— ht'XQ lued ami^igiiously for deceits. 
 
Scene IV.J KING Ili^NilY VJ.— PART I. 
 
 43 
 
 Suf. I pluck this red rose, with young Somerset; 
 And say withal, I think he held the right. 
 
 Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen ; and pluck no 
 more. 
 
 Till you conclude — that iie u])on whose side 
 The fewest roses are croppM from the tree. 
 Shall yield the other in the right opinion. 
 
 So7ii. Good master Vernon, it is well objected ;^ 
 If I have fewest I subscribe in silence. 
 
 Plan. And I. 
 
 Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case, 
 I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here. 
 Giving my verdict on the white rose side. 
 
 Som. Prick not ycur finger as you pluck it otf ; 
 Lest, bleeding, you do paint the Avhite rose red, 
 And fall on my side so against your will. 
 
 Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed. 
 Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, 
 And keep me on the side where still I am, 
 
 So7n. Well, well, come on ; Who else ? 
 
 Laia. Unless my study and my books be false, 
 The argument you held was wrong in you ; \_To Som. 
 In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too. 
 
 Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argument ? 
 
 So7n. Here, in my scabbard ; meditating that 
 Shall die your white rose in a bloody red. 
 
 Plcm. Meantime, your cheeks do counterfeit our 
 roses ; 
 
 For pale they look with fear, as witnessing 
 The trutli on our side. 
 
 So7n. No, Plantagenet, 
 
 'T is not for fear, but anger, — that tliy clieeks 
 Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses ; 
 xVnd yet tliy tongue will not confess thy error. 
 
 Objected. The word is not here used in the ordhiary sense 
 of opposed, but in its less common meaning of proposed'— suff' 
 gested. 
 
41 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Plan. Hatli not thy rose a canker, Somerset ? 
 Soin. Ilatli not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet ? 
 Plan, Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his Irutli; 
 Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. 
 
 Soni. Well, I '11 find friends to wear my bleeding 
 roses, 
 
 That shall maintain what I have said is true, 
 Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. 
 
 Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, 
 I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. 
 
 Svf. Turn not thy scorns this wa}^, Plantagenet. 
 
 Plan. Proud Poole, I will ; and scorn both him and 
 thee. 
 
 Suf. I '11 turn my part thereof into thy throat. 
 Som. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole ! 
 We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. 
 
 TFar. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, So- 
 merset ; 
 
 His grandfather was Lionel duke of Clarence, 
 Third son to the third Edward king of England ; 
 Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root? 
 
 Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege, 
 Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. 
 
 Som. By Him that made me, I '11 maintain my words 
 On any plot of ground in Christendom : 
 Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge, 
 For treason executed in our late king's days ? 
 And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted. 
 Corrupted, and exempt ^ from ancient gentry ? 
 His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ; 
 And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman. 
 
 Plan. My fatlier was attached, not attainted ; 
 Condemn'd to die ibr treason, but no traitor ; 
 And tliat 1 '11 prove on better men than Somerset, 
 Were growing time once ripen\l to my will. 
 For your partaker ^ Poole, and you yourself, 
 
 ^ Exempt — excluded. ^ PflJta7<6Y— confederate. 
 
I '11 note you in my book of memoi'}'^, 
 
 To scourge you for this apprehension 
 
 Look to it well ; and say you are well warnM. 
 
 Som. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still : 
 And know us, by these colours, for thy foes ; 
 For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear. 
 
 Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose. 
 As cognizance^ of my blood-drinking hate. 
 Will I for ever, and my taction, wear ; 
 Until it wither witli me to my grave. 
 Or flourish to the height of my degree. 
 
 Siif. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition I 
 And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit. 
 
 Som. Have with thee, Poole. — Farewell, ambitious 
 Richard. \_Exit. 
 
 Plan, How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure it 1 
 
 TFar. This blot, that they object against your house. 
 Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, 
 Call'd for the truce of Wincliester and Gloster : 
 And, if thou be not then created York, 
 I will not live to be accounted Warwi<'k. 
 Meantime, in signal of my love to tliee. 
 Against proud Somerset and William Poole, 
 Will I upon tliy party wear this rose : 
 And here I prophesy, — This brawl to-day. 
 Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden, 
 Shall send, between the red rose and the wliite, 
 A thousand souls to death and deadly night. 
 
 Plan. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you. 
 That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. 
 
 Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same. 
 
 Law. And so will I. 
 
 Plan. Thanks, gentle sir. 
 Come, let us four to dinner : I dare say 
 This quarrel will drink blood another day. [Exeunt. 
 ^ Apprehension — opinion. b Cognizance — badge. 
 
KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act IL 
 
 SCENE V. — The same. A Room in the Tower. 
 
 Enter Mortimer, brought in a chair by Two 
 Keepers. 
 
 Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, 
 Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. 
 Even like a man new haled from the rack, 
 60 fare my limbs with long imprisonment : 
 And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, 
 Nestor-like aged, in an age of care, 
 Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. 
 These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, 
 Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent : ^ 
 Weak shoulders, overborne with burth'ning grief; 
 And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine 
 That droops his sapless branches to the ground : 
 Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb, 
 Unable to support this lump of clay, 
 Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, 
 As witting I no other comfort have. 
 But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come ? 
 
 1 Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come ; 
 We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber ; 
 And answer was returned, that he will come. 
 
 Mor. Enough ; my soul shall then be satisfied. 
 Poor gentleman ! his wrong doth equal mine. 
 Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, 
 (Before whose glory I was great in arms,) 
 This loathsome sequestration liave I had ; 
 And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd_, 
 Deprived of honour and inheritance : 
 But now, the arbitrator of despairs, 
 Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries. 
 With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence; 
 I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, 
 That so he might recover what was lost. 
 
ScESE v.] KING HENRY VI.-PAllT I. 
 
 47 
 
 Enter Richard Plantagewet. 
 
 1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. 
 
 Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend? Is he come? 
 
 Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd. 
 Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes. 
 
 Mor. Direct muie arms, I may embrace his neck, 
 And in his bosom spend my latter gasp : 
 O, tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks, 
 That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. 
 And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, 
 Why didst thou say — of late thou wert despis'd ? 
 
 Plan. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm 
 And, in that ease, I '11 tell tliee my disease."* 
 This day, in argument upon a case, 
 Some words there grew twixt Somerset and me ; 
 Among which terms, he us'd his lavish tongue, 
 And did upbraid me with my father's deatli ; 
 Whicli obloquy set bars before my tongue. 
 Else with the like I had requited iiim : 
 Therefore, good uncle, — for my fatiier's sake, 
 In honour of a true Plantagenet, 
 And for alliance' sake, — declare the cause 
 My father, earl of Cambridge, lost his head. 
 
 Mor. That cause, fair nephew,^ that imprisoned me. 
 And hath detain'd me, all my ilow'ring youth, 
 Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, 
 Was cursed instrument of his decease. 
 
 Plan. Discover more at large what cause that was : 
 For I am ignorant, and cannot guess. 
 
 Mor. I will ; if that my fading breath permit, 
 And death approach nor ere my tale be done. 
 Henry the fourth, grandfather to this king, 
 Depos'd his nephew Richard, — Edward's son, 
 The first-begotten, and the lawful iieir 
 
 * Disease— \ineasiness — unease. 
 
 b put generally for a relative— the Latin nepos. 
 
48 
 
 KING HENllY VI.—PAllT I. 
 
 Of Edward king, the third of that descent : 
 
 During whose reign, the Percies of the north, 
 
 Finding liis usurpation most unjust, 
 
 EndeavourVl my advancement to the throne : 
 
 The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this. 
 
 Was — for that (young king Richard thus removM* 
 
 Leaving no heir begotten of his body) 
 
 I was the next by birth and parentage ; 
 
 For by my mother I derived am 
 
 From Lionel duke of Clarence, th^e third son 
 
 To king Edward the third, whereas he 
 
 From John of Gaunt dotli bring liis pedigree, 
 
 Being but fourth of that heroic line. 
 
 But mark; as, in this lianghty great Lttempl, 
 
 They laboured to plant the rightful lie'r, 
 
 I lost my liberty, and they their lives. 
 
 Long after this, when Henry the fifth, 
 
 Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did ieign, 
 
 Tliy father, earl of Cambridge, then derix 'd 
 
 From famous Edmund I^angley, duke of Yoik, 
 
 Marrying my sistei-, that thy mother was, 
 
 Again, in pity of my hard distress, 
 
 Levied an army ; weening to redeem, 
 
 And have install'd me in the diadem : 
 
 But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl, 
 
 And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, 
 
 In whom the title rested, were suppressed. 
 
 Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is tiie last. 
 
 Mo7\ True ; and thou seest that I no issue have ; 
 Andtliat my fair.ting words do warrant death : 
 Thou art my heir; the rest, I wish thee gather; 
 And yet be wary in thy studious care. 
 
 Plan, Thy grave admonishments prevail with me 
 But yet, methlnks, my father's execution 
 Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. 
 
 Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic ; 
 Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, 
 
49 
 
 And, like a mountain, not to be reniov'd. 
 But now thy uncle is removing- hence ; 
 As princes do their courts, when they are cloy VI 
 With long continuance in a settled place. 
 
 Plan. O, uncle, would some part of my young ye^rs 
 Might but redeem the passage of your age ! 
 
 3Ior. Thou dost then wrong me; as the slaughf rer 
 doth, 
 
 Which giveth many wounds when one will kill. 
 
 Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good ; 
 
 Only, give order for my funeral ; 
 
 And so farewell ; and fair be all thy hopes ! 
 
 And prosperous be thy life, in peace, and war ! [Dtrs. 
 
 Flan. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul ! 
 In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage. 
 And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. 
 Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast ; 
 And what I do imagine, jet triat. rest. 
 Keepers, convey him hence : and I myself 
 Will see his burial better than his life. 
 
 [Exeunt Keepers, hearing ottt Mortimer. 
 Here dies tlie dusky torch of Mortimer, 
 Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort : 
 And, for those Ivrongs, those bitter injuries, 
 Which Somerset hath ofl'er'd to my house, 
 I doubt not but with lionour to redress : 
 And therefore haste I to the parliament ; 
 Either to be restored to my blood, 
 Or make my ill^ the advantage of my good. [Exit. 
 
 ///-ill usa-s. 
 
 VOL. VI. 
 
 E 
 
bO 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act ill. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I. — London. The Parliament-Hoiisc. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Gloster, 
 Warwick, Somerset, awr^ Suffolk ; the Bisnov 
 OF W inchester, Richard Plantagenet, a>id 
 others. Gloster offers to put tcp a bill ; Win- 
 chester snatches it, and tears it. 
 
 Win. Com'st thou with deep premedi fated lines, 
 With written pamphlets studiously devis'd, 
 Humphrey of Gloster? if thou canst accuse, 
 Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, 
 Do it without invention suddenly ; 
 As I with sudden and ex temporal speech 
 Purpose to answer what thou canst object. 
 
 Glo. Presumptuous priest ! this place commands my 
 patience, 
 
 Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me. 
 Thinlc not, although in writing I preferr'd 
 The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, 
 That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able 
 Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen : 
 No, prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness. 
 Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks, 
 As very infants prattle of thy pride. 
 Thou art a most pernicious usurer ; 
 Froward by nature, enemy to peace ; 
 Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems 
 A man of thy profession and degree ; 
 And for thy treachery, Avhat *s more manifest? 
 In tliat thou laid'st a trap to take my life. 
 As well at London bridge, as at the Tower ? 
 Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted. 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt 
 From envious malice of thy swelling heart. 
 
 IViii. Gloster, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe 
 To give me hearing what I shall reply. 
 If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse, 
 As he will have me, how am I so poor ? 
 Or how haps it I seek not to advance 
 Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling ? 
 And for dissention, who preferreth peace 
 More than I do, — except I be provok'd ? 
 No, my good lords, it is not that ofleiids ; 
 It is not that that hath incens'd the duke : 
 It is, because no one should sway but he ; 
 No one but he should be about the king ; 
 And that engenders thunder in his breast. 
 And makes him roar these accusations forth. 
 But he shall know, I am as good 
 
 Glo. As good ? 
 
 Thou bastard of my grandfather ! — 
 
 Win. Ay, lordly sir : For what are you, I pray, 
 But one imperious in another's throne ? 
 
 Glo. Am JLnot protector, saucy priest ? 
 
 Wi7i. Anoam I not a prelate of the church ? 
 
 Glo. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, 
 And useth it to patronage his theft. 
 
 Wi7i. Unreverent Gloster ! 
 
 Glo. Thou art reverent, 
 
 Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. 
 
 Win. Rome shall remedy this. 
 
 War. Roam thither tlien. 
 
 Som, My lord, it were your duty to forbear. 
 
 War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. 
 
 Som. Methinks, my lord should be religious. 
 And know the office that belongs to such. 
 
 fVar. Methinks his lordship should be humbler ; 
 It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. 
 
 Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near. 
 
 E 2 
 
52 
 
 KING HENilY VI.— PART I. [Act Hi. 
 
 War. State holy, or unliallow'd, what of that? 
 Is not his grace protector to the kirvr ? 
 
 Pla7i, Plantageiiet, I see, must hold his tongue ; 
 Lest it be said, " Speak, sirrah, when you should ; 
 Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords " 
 Else would I have a fling at Winchester. [Aside. 
 
 K. Hen. Uncles of Gloster, and of Wincliesttr, 
 The special watchmen of our English weal, 
 I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, 
 To join your hearts in love and amity. 
 O, what a scandal is it to our crown, 
 That two such noble peers as ye should jar ! 
 Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell, 
 Civil dissention is a viperous worm 
 That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth. — 
 
 [A noise within ! " Doivn luith the taxony -coats I " 
 What tumult 's this? 
 
 War. An uproar, I dare warrant, 
 
 Begun through malice of the bishop's men. 
 
 [J. noise again; Sto?ies! Stones P 
 
 Enter the Mayor of London, attended. 
 
 May. O, my good lords, — and virtuous Henry, — 
 Pity the city of London, pity us ! 
 The bishop and the duke of Gloster's m.en, 
 Forbidden late to carry any weapon. 
 Have fiird their pockets full of pebble-stones ; 
 And banding themselves in contrary parts, 
 Do pelt so fast at one another's pate. 
 That many have their giddy brains knock 'd out : 
 Our windows are broke down in every street. 
 And we, for fear, compell'd to shut our shops. 
 
 Enter, skirmishing, the Retainers of Gloster and 
 Winchester, loith bloody pates. 
 
 K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VI,— PART I. 
 
 53 
 
 To hold your slaught'ring hands, and kee}) the peace. 
 Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife. 
 
 1 Serv. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we 11 fall to 
 it with our teeth. 
 
 2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. 
 
 [Skimiish again. 
 Glo. You of my household, leave this peevish broil, 
 And set this unaccustom'd fight aside. 
 
 3 Se7'v, My lord, we know your grace to be a man 
 Just and upright ; and, for your royal birth, 
 Inferior to none but to his majesty : 
 
 And ere that we will suifer such a prince, 
 
 So kind a father of the commonweal. 
 
 To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate. 
 
 We, and our wives, and children, all will fight. 
 
 And have our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes. 
 
 1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails 
 Shall pitch a field, when we are dead. [Skirmish again. 
 
 Glo. Stay, stay, I say ! 
 
 And, if you love me, as you say you do. 
 Let me persuade you to forbear a while. 
 
 K. Hen. O, how this discord doth afflict my soul ! 
 Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold 
 My sighs and tears, and will not once relent ? 
 Who should be pitiful, if you be not? 
 Or who should study to prefer a peace. 
 If holy churchmen take delight in broils ? 
 
 W ar. Yield, my lord protector; — yield, Winchester ;-™ 
 Except you mean, with obstinate repulse. 
 To slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm. 
 You see what mischief, and what murther too. 
 Hath been enacted through your enmity ; 
 Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. 
 
 Win. He shall submit, or I will never yield. 
 
 Glo, Compassion on the king commands me stoop ; 
 Or I would see his heart out ere the priest 
 Should ever get that privilege of me. 
 
54 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act in. 
 
 War. Behold, my lord of Winchester, the duke 
 Hath banish'd moody discontented fury, 
 As by his smoothed brows it doth appear : 
 Why look you still so stern and tragical ? 
 
 Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. 
 
 K. Hen. Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you 
 preach 
 
 That malice was a great and grievous sin : 
 And will not you maintain tlie thing you teacl), 
 But prove a chief offender in tlie same? 
 
 War. Sweet king ! — the bish()phath a kindly gird.^ — 
 For shame, my lord of W inchester ! relent ; 
 Wl]a<, shall a child instruct you what to do? 
 
 Wm. Well, duke of Gloster, I will yield to thee ; 
 Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give. 
 
 Glo. Ay ; but, I fear me, with a hollow heart. 
 See here, my friends, and loving countrymen : 
 This token serveth for a flag ol truce 
 Betwixt ourselves and all our followers : 
 So help me God, as I dissemble not ! 
 
 Wi7i. So help me God, as I intend it not ! \ Aside. 
 
 jr. He7i. O loving uncle, kind duke of Gloster, 
 How joyful am I made by this contract! 
 Away, my masters ! trouble us no more ; 
 But join in friendship, a,s your lords have done. 
 
 1 iServ. Content ; I '11 to the surgeon's. 
 
 2 Serv. ^ And so will I. 
 
 3 Scrv. And I will see what physic the tavern affords. 
 
 [Exeimt Servants, Mayor, ^c. 
 li^ar. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign ; 
 Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet 
 We do exhibit to your majesty. 
 
 Glo. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick : — for, sweet 
 prince. 
 
 An if your grace mark every circumstance, 
 You have great reason to do Richard right : 
 
 * A hindly gird — a reproof meant in kindness. 
 
SczNEl.l KING HENRY VI—PART I. 55 
 
 Especially, for those occasions 
 
 At Eltham-place I told your majesty. 
 
 K. Hen. And those occasions, uncle, were of force : 
 Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is 
 That Richard be restored to his blood. 
 
 War. Let Richard be restored to liis blood ; 
 So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd. 
 
 Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. 
 
 K. Hen. If Richard will be true, not that alone. 
 But all the whole inheritance I give 
 That doth belong unto the house of York, 
 From whence you spring by lineal descent. 
 
 Flan. Thy humble servant vov/s obedience. 
 And humble service, till the point of death. 
 
 K. Hen. Stoop then, and set your knee against niy 
 foot : 
 
 And, in reguerdon ^ of that duty done, 
 I girt thee with the valiant sword of York : 
 Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet ; 
 And rise created princely duke of York. 
 
 Flan. And so thrive Richard, as tliy foes may fall ! 
 And as my duty springs, so perish they 
 That grudge one thought against your majesty i 
 
 All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke of York ! 
 
 Som. Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of York ! 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty, 
 To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France : 
 The presence of a king engenders love 
 Amongst his subjects, and his loyal friends ; 
 As it disanimates his enemies. 
 
 K. Hen. When Gloster says the word, king Henry 
 ^ goes ; 
 
 For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. 
 Glo. Your ships already are in readiness. 
 
 [Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all hut Exeter. 
 ^ Reguerdon — recom pence. 
 
56 KING HENRY VI.— PAKT I. [Act ill. 
 
 Exe. Ay, we may march in England, or in FraJice, 
 Not seeing what is likely to ensue : 
 This late dissention, grown betwixt the peers, 
 Burns mider feigned ashes of forg'd love, 
 And will at last break out into a flame : 
 As fester'd members rot but by degree. 
 Till bones, and flesh, and sinews, fall away, 
 So will this base and envious discord breed. 
 And now I fear that fatal propliecy, 
 Which, in the time cf Henry nam'd tlie fifth, 
 Was in the niouth of every sucking babe, — 
 That Henry, born at Monmouth, should win all ; 
 And Henry, born at Windsor, sliould lose all : 
 Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish 
 His days may finish ere that hapless time. \ Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Fiance. Before Rouen. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle disguised, and Soldiers dressed like 
 Countrymen, loith sacks upon their hacks. 
 
 Puc. These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, 
 Through which our policy must make a breach : 
 Take heed, be wary how you place your words ; 
 Talk like the vulgar sort of maiket-men 
 That come to gather money for their corn. 
 If we have entrance (as I hope we shall). 
 And that we find the slothful watcli but weak, 
 I '11 by a sign give notice to our friends, 
 That Charles the dauphin may encounter them. 
 
 1 'iold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack tlie city, 
 And we be lords and rulers over Rouen ; 
 Therefore we '11 knock. \_Knocks. 
 
 Guard. [Within.] Qui est la ? 
 
 Puc, Paisans, pauvres gens de France : 
 Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn. 
 
 Guard. Enter, go in ; the market-bell is rung. 
 
 [ Opens the gates. 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.-PAllT I. 
 
 bl 
 
 Puc. Now, Rouen, I '11 shcake tby bulwarks to the 
 ground. [Puc, e7iter the city. 
 
 Enter Charles, Bastard of Orleans, Alencjon, 
 and Forces, 
 
 Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy stratagem ! 
 And once again we '11 sleep secure in Rouen. 
 
 Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants ; 
 Now she is there, how will she specify 
 Where is the best and safest passage in ? 
 
 Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower ; 
 Which, once discem'd, shows that her meaning is, — 
 No way to t^at, for weakness, which she enter'd. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle on a battlement^ holding out a 
 torch hxmiing. 
 
 Puc. Behold, this is the happy wedding torcli, 
 That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen ; 
 But burning fatal to the Talbotites. 
 
 Bast. See, noble Charles ! the beacon of our friend 
 The burning torch, in yonder turret stands. 
 
 Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, 
 A prophet to the fall of all our foes ! 
 
 Alen. Defer no time : Delays have dangerous ends ; 
 Enter, and cry — " The dauphin !" — presently, 
 And then do execution on the watch. ^^They enter. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Talbot and certain English. 
 
 Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy 
 tears, 
 
 If Talbot but survive thy treachery. 
 Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, 
 Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares. 
 That hardly we escap'd the pride of France. 
 
 \Exeimt to the toxon* 
 
KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act HI. 
 
 Alarum: Excursions. Enter, from the toion, Bed- 
 ford, brought in sick, in a chair, xoith Talbot, 
 Burgundy, and the English Forces. Then enter, 
 on the loalls, La Pucelle, Charles, Bastard, 
 Alenqon, and others. 
 
 Puc. Good moiTovi^, gallants ! want ye corn for 
 bread ? 
 
 I think the duke of Burgundy will fast, 
 
 Before he '11 buy again at such a rate : 
 
 'T was full of darnel : Do you like the taste ? 
 
 Bur. ScoiT on, vile fiend, and shameless courtesan ! 
 I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own. 
 And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. 
 
 Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before that 
 time. 
 
 Bed. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason ! 
 Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard ? break a 
 lance. 
 
 And run a tilt at death within a chair ? 
 
 Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite. 
 Encompassed with thy lustful paramours, 
 Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age. 
 And twit with cowardice a man half dead ? 
 Damsel, I '11 have a bout with you again. 
 Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. 
 
 Puc. Are you so hot, sir Yet, Pucelle, hold thy 
 peace ; 
 
 If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. 
 
 [Talbot, and the rest, consult together. 
 
 God speed the parliament ! who sliall be the speaker ? 
 Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the field % 
 Puc. Belike, your lordship takes us then for fools, 
 
 To try if tliat our own be ours, or no. 
 Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, 
 
 But unto thee, Alenqon, and the rest ; 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART L 59 
 
 Will ye, like soldiers, come and figlit it out 
 
 Alen. Signior, no. 
 
 Signior, hang ! — base muleteers of France! 
 Like peasant footboys do they keep the walls, 
 And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. 
 
 Puc. Away, captains : let 's get us from the walls ; 
 For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. 
 God be wi' you, my lord I we came but to tell you 
 That we are here. 
 
 [Exeunt La Pucelle, <SfC., from the walls. 
 
 Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long. 
 Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame ! 
 Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, 
 (Prick 'd on by public wrongs sustained in France,) 
 Either to get the town again, or die : 
 And I, as sure as English Henry lives, 
 And as his father here was conqueror ; 
 As sure as in this late-betrayed town 
 Great Coeur-de-1 ion's heart was buried ; 
 So sure I swear to get the town or die. 
 
 Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy vows. 
 
 Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, 
 The valiant duke of Bedford : — Come, my lord. 
 We will bestow you in some better place, 
 Fitter for sickness and for crazy age. 
 
 Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me : 
 Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, 
 And will be partner of your weal or woe. 
 
 Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you. 
 
 Bed. Not to be gone from hence ; for once I read, 
 That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick, 
 Came to the field, and vanquished his foes : 
 Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts, 
 Because I ever found them as myself. 
 
 Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast! — 
 Then be it so : — Heavens kee]) old Bedford safe ! — 
 And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, 
 
60 
 
 KING IIKNllY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 But gather v;e our forces out of hand, 
 And set upon om- boasting enemy. 
 
 \_Exeu7it Burgundy, Talbot, and Forces, 
 leaving Bedford and others. 
 
 Alarum : Excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolfe 
 and a Captain. 
 
 Cap. Whither away, sir John Fastolfe, in such haste ? 
 Fast. Whither away? to save myself by i3ight. 
 We are like to have the overthrow again. 
 
 Cap. What! will you fiy, and leave lord Talbot? 
 Fast. Ay. All the Talbots in the world, to save my 
 
 Cap, Cowardly knight ! ill fortune follow thee \ \_Ex. 
 
 Retreat : Excursions. Eiiter, from the town, La 
 PucELLE, Alen^gn, Charles, and exeimt 
 flying. 
 
 Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when Heaven please ; 
 For I liave seen our enemies' overthrow. 
 "What is the trust or strength of foolish man ? 
 They, that of late were daring with their scoffs. 
 Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. 
 
 Alarum : Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and others. 
 
 Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a. day again ! 
 This is a double honour, Burgundy : 
 Yet, Heavens have glory for this victory ! 
 
 Btir. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy 
 Enshrines thee in his heart ; and there erects 
 Thy noble deeds, as valour's monuments. 
 
 Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle 
 
 I think her old familiar is asleep : 
 
 Now where 's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his 
 
 gleeks? 
 
 life. 
 
 [Dies, and is carried off in his chair. 
 
 now ? 
 
ScenkIIL] king henry VI —PART I. 
 
 61 
 
 What, all a-mort ? Rouen hangs her Iieail for grief 
 
 That such a valiant company are ilecl. 
 
 Now v/ill we take some order in the town, 
 
 Placing therein some expert officers ; 
 
 And then depart to Paris, to the king ; 
 
 For there young Henry, with his nobles, lies. 
 
 B2ir. What wills lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy. 
 
 Tal. But yet, before we go, let "s not forget 
 The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, 
 But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen ; 
 A braver soldier never couched lance, 
 A gentler heart did never sway in court : 
 But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die ; 
 For that 's the end of human misery. \_Exeiint, 
 
 SCENE III,— The same. The Plains near the City. 
 
 'Enter Charles, the Bastard, Alenqon, La Pucell?:, 
 and Forces. 
 
 Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, 
 Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered : 
 Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, 
 For things that are not to be remedied. 
 Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, 
 And like a peacock sv/eep along his t^ii ; 
 W^e 11 pull his plumes, and take away his train. 
 If dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd. 
 
 Char. We have been guided by thee hitherto, 
 And of thy cunning had no diffidence ; 
 One sudden foil shall never breed disti ust. 
 
 Basto Search out thy wit for secret policies, 
 And we will make thee famous througii the world. 
 
 Alen. We '11 set thy statue in some holy place, 
 And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint ; 
 Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good, 
 
 Piic. Then tirus it must be ; this doth Joan devise : 
 * All a-mort — dispirited. 
 
62 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PAllT I. [Act 111. 
 
 By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, 
 We will entice the duke of Burgundy 
 To leave the Talbot, and to follow us. 
 
 Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, 
 France were no place for Henry's warriors ; 
 Nor should that nation boast it so with us. 
 But be extirped from our provinces. 
 
 Alen. For ever should they be expuls'd from France 
 And not have title of an earldom here. 
 
 Fuc. Your honours shall perceive how I will work, 
 To bring this matter to the wished end. \T>rums heard. 
 Hark ! by the sound of drum you may perceive 
 Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. 
 
 All English march. Enter, and pass over at a dis- 
 tance, Talbot and his Forces. 
 
 There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread ; 
 And all the troops of English after him. 
 
 A French March. Enter the Duke of Burgundy 
 and Forces. 
 
 Now, in the rearward, comes the duke, and his ; 
 Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind. 
 Summon a parley, we will talk with him. 
 
 \_A parley sounded. 
 Char. A parley with the duke of Burgundy. 
 Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ? 
 Fuc. The princely Charles of France, thy country- 
 man. 
 
 Bur, What say'st thou, Charles ? for I am marching 
 hence. 
 
 Char. Speak, Pucelle ; and enchant liim with thy 
 words. 
 
 Fuc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France ! 
 Stay, let tliy humble handmaid speak to thee. 
 Bur. Speak on ; but be not over-tedious. 
 Fuc. Look on thy country, look on fertile F/ance, 
 
 
 
Sc£N£ HI.] KING HENiiY VI.— PART I. 
 
 And see the cities and the towns defac'd 
 
 By wasting ruin of the cruel foe ! 
 
 As looks the mother on her lowly babe, 
 
 When death doth close his tender dying eyes, 
 
 See, see, the pining malady of France ; 
 
 Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, 
 
 Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast ! 
 
 O, turn thy edged sword another way ; 
 
 Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that lielp ! 
 
 One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom. 
 
 Should grieve thee more tlian streams of foreign gore ; 
 
 Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears, 
 
 And wash away thy country's stained spots ! 
 
 Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words, 
 Or nature makes me suddenly relent. 
 
 Ptic. Besides, all French and France exclaims on 
 thee, 
 
 Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. 
 
 Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation, 
 
 Tliat will not trust thee but for profit's sake ? 
 
 Wlien Tall)ot hath set footing once in France, 
 
 And fashion'd thee tliat instrument of ill. 
 
 Who then, but English Henry, will be lord. 
 
 And thou be thrust out like a fugitive? 
 
 Call we to mind, — and mark but this, for proof: — 
 
 Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe V 
 
 And was he not in England prisoner ? 
 
 But, when they heard he was thine enemy, 
 
 They set him free, without his ransom paid. 
 
 In spite of Burgundy and all his friends. 
 
 See, then ! thou fight'st against thy countrymen, 
 
 And join'st with them will be thy slauglitermen. 
 
 Come, come, return ; return, thou wandering lord ; 
 
 Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms. 
 
 Btir. I am vanquished ; these haughty ^ words of 
 hers 
 
 ^ i/mM^^/if^— lofty— spirited. 
 
64 KING HENRY VL— PART i. fAci Iil. 
 
 IIa,ve batter'd me like roaring cannon-sliot, 
 And made me almost yield upon my knees. 
 Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen ! 
 And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace : 
 My forces and my power of men are yours ; 
 So, farewell, Talbot; I '11 no longer trust thee. 
 
 Puc. Done like a Frenchman ; turn, and turn again ! 
 
 Char. Welcome, brave duke.! thy friendship makes 
 us fresh. 
 
 Bast. And doth beget new courage in our bi-easts. 
 
 Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this. 
 And doth deserve a coronet of gold. 
 
 Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our ]iov/ers : 
 And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — Paris. A Room in the Palace, 
 
 Enter King Henry, Gi.oster, and other Lords, 
 Vernon, Basset, ^c. To them Talbot, and some 
 of his Officers, 
 
 Tal. My gracious prince, find honourable peers, 
 Hearing of your arrival in tliis realm, 
 I have awhile given truce unto my wars, 
 To do my duty to my sovereign : 
 In sign whereof, this arm, — that ]iath reclaimed 
 To your obedience fifty fortresses. 
 Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength, 
 Besides five hundred prisoners of esteem, — 
 Lets fall his sword before your liighness' feet ; 
 And, with submissive loyalty of heart, 
 Ascribes the glory of his conquest got. 
 First to my God, and next unto your grace. 
 
 K. Hen, Is this the lord Talbot, uncle Gloster, 
 That hatli so long been resident in France ? 
 
 Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege. 
 
 K. Hen. Welcome, brave captain, and yictorious 
 lord ! 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 65 
 
 When 1 was young, (as yet I am not old,) 
 
 I do remember how my lather said 
 
 A stouter champion never handled sword. 
 
 Long since we were resolved of yoiu* truth, 
 
 Your faithful service, and your toil in war ; 
 
 Yet never have you tasted our reward. 
 
 Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks, 
 
 Because till now we never saw your lace : 
 
 Tlierefore, stand up ; and, for these good deserts, 
 
 We here create you earl of Shrewsbury ; 
 
 And in our coronation take your place. 
 
 [Exetcnt King Henry, Glo., Tal., and Nobles. 
 Ve7\ Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, 
 Disgracing of these colours that I wear 
 In honour of my noble lord of York. — 
 Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st ? 
 
 Bas. Yes, sir ; as well as you dare patronage 
 The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
 Against my lord, the duke of Somerset. 
 Ver. Sirrah, tliy lord I honour as he is. 
 Bas. Why, what is he? as good a man as York. 
 Ver, Hark ye ; not so : in witness take ye that. 
 
 \_St7'ikes hi?n. 
 Bas. Villain, thou know'st the law of arms is sucli, 
 That whoso draws a sword 't is present death. 
 Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood* 
 But I '11 unto his majesty, and crave 
 I may have liberty to venge this wrong ; 
 When thou shalt see I '11 meet thee to thy cost. 
 
 Ver. Well, miscreant, I '11 be there as soon as you ; 
 And, after, meet you sooner than you would. [^Exeunt. 
 
 VOL. VI. 
 
66 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Paris. A Room of State. 
 
 Filter King Henry, Gloster, Exeter, York, 
 Suffolk, Somerset, Winchester, Warwick, 
 Talbot, the Governor 0/ Paris, a7icl of hers. 
 
 Glo. Lord bishop, set tlie crown upon his head. 
 
 Win. God save king Henry, of that name the sixth ! 
 
 Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath, — 
 
 [Governor kneels. 
 That you elect no other king but him : 
 Esteem none friends but such as are his friends ; 
 And none your foes but such as shall pretend 
 Malicious practices against his state : 
 This shall ye do, so help you righteous God ! 
 
 [Exeunt Governor and his Train. 
 
 Enter Sir John Fastolfe. 
 
 Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais, 
 To haste unto your coronation, 
 A letter was deliver d to my hands, 
 Writ to your grace from the duke of Biirgimdy. 
 
 Tal. Shame to the duke of Burginidy, and thee ! 
 I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next, 
 To tear the garter from thy craven's leg, 
 
 [riucki/iff it ojf. 
 (^Which I have done,) because unworthily 
 Thou wast installed in that high degree. 
 Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest : 
 This dastard, at the battle of Patay, 
 When but in all I was six thousand strong. 
 And that the French were almost ten to one. 
 Before we met, or that a stroke was given, 
 ^ Pretend — intend. 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 67 
 
 Like to a trusty squire, did run away ; 
 
 In which assault we lost twelve hundred men ; 
 
 Myself, and divers gentlemen beside, 
 
 Were there suqjris'd and taken jDrisoners. 
 
 Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss ; 
 
 Or whether that such cowards ought to ^vear 
 
 This ornament of knighthood, yea or no. 
 
 Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, 
 And ill-beseeming any common man ; 
 Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader. 
 
 Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords. 
 Knights of the garter were of noble birth ; 
 Valiant, and virtuous, full of haughty courage, 
 Such as were grown to credit by the wars ; 
 Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress, 
 But always resolute in most extremes. 
 He then that is not furnish'd in this sort 
 Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, 
 Profaning this most honourable order ; 
 And should (if I were worthy to be judge) 
 Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain 
 That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. 
 
 K. Hen. Stain to thy countrymen ! thou hear'st thy 
 doom ! 
 
 Be packing tlierefore, thou that wast a knight ; 
 Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death. — 
 
 [^Exit Fast. 
 
 And now, lord protector, view the letter 
 Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy. 
 
 Glo. What means his grace, that he hath chang'd his 
 style? [Fiewin(/ the superscription. 
 
 No more but, plain and bluntly, — " To the king I " 
 Hath he forgot he is his sovereign ? 
 Or doth this churlish superscription 
 Pretend some alteration in good will ? 
 What 's here ? — " I have, upon esjiecial cause, — 
 
 \^Rea,ds. 
 
 F 2 
 
68 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act IV. 
 
 Mov'd with compassion of my country's wrack. 
 
 Together with the pitiful complaints 
 
 Of such as your oppression feeds upon, — 
 
 Forsaken your pernicious faction, 
 
 And join'd with Charles, the rightful king of France.'* 
 
 0 monstrous treachery ! Can this be so ; 
 That in alliance, amity, and oaths. 
 
 There should be Ibund such false dissembling guile ? 
 K. Hen. What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt? 
 Glo. He doth, my lord ; and is become your foe. 
 K. Hen. Is that the worst tiiis letter doth contain ? 
 Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he wrires. 
 K, Hen. Why, then, lord Talbot there shall talk with 
 him, 
 
 And give him chastisement for this abuse : — 
 How say yon^ my lord*? are you not content ? 
 
 Tal. Content, my liege? Yes ; but that I am pre- 
 vented,^ 
 
 1 should have begg'd I might have been employed. 
 
 K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march unto him 
 straight : 
 
 Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason ; 
 And what oflence it is to flout his friends. 
 
 Tal. I go, my lord ; in heart desiring still 
 You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exit. 
 
 Enter Vernon and Ba.sset. 
 
 Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign ! 
 Bas. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too ! 
 York. This is my servant : Hear him, noble prince ! 
 Som. And this is mine : Sweet Henry, favour him ! 
 K. Hen. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to 
 speak. — 
 
 Say, gentlemen. What makes you thus exclaim ? 
 And wlierefore crave you combat ? or with whom ? 
 
 ^ Prevented-^^owQ before— anticipated. 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. G9 
 
 Ver. With him, my lord ; for he hatli done me 
 wrong. 
 
 Bas. And I with him ; for he hath done me wrong. 
 K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you both com- 
 plain ? 
 
 First let me know, and then I '11 answer you. 
 
 Bas, Crossing the sea from England into France, 
 Tliis fellow here, with envious carping tongue, 
 Upbraided me about the rose I wear ; 
 Saying — the sanguine colour of the leaves 
 Did represent my master's blushing cheeks, 
 When stubbornly he did repugn"^ the truth, 
 About a certain question in the law. 
 Argued betwixt the duke of York and him ; 
 With other vile and ignominious terms : 
 In confutation of which rude reproach, 
 And in defence of my lord's worthiness, 
 I crave the benefit of lav/ of arms. 
 
 Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord : 
 For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit. 
 To set a gloss upon his bold intent. 
 Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him ; 
 And he first took exceptions at this badge. 
 Pronouncing — that the paleness of this flower 
 Bewray 'd the faintness of my master's heart. 
 
 York. Will not this malice, Somerset, f)e left ? 
 
 Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will ou( , 
 Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. 
 
 K. Hen. Good Lord ! what madness rules in brain- 
 sick men ; 
 
 When, for so slight and frivolous a cause, 
 Such factious emulations shall arise : 
 Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, 
 Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. 
 
 York, Let this dissention first be tried by fight. 
 And then your highness shall command a peace. 
 * Repugn — resist. 
 
70 
 
 KING HENRY VI. -PART L [Act IV. 
 
 Som. The quarrel toucbeth none but ns abjne ; 
 Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. 
 
 York. There is my pledge ; accept it, Somerset. 
 
 Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. 
 
 Bas. Confirai it so, mine lionourable lord. 
 
 Glo. Confirm it so"? Confounded be your strife ! 
 And perish ye, with your audacious prate ! 
 Presumptuous vassals ! are you not asham'd, 
 With this immodest clamorous outrage 
 To trouble and disturb the king and us ? 
 And you, my lords, — methinks you do not well, 
 To bear with their perverse objections ; 
 Much less to fake occasion from their mouths 
 To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves ; 
 Let me persuade you, take a better course. 
 
 Exe. It grieves his highness : — Good my lords, be 
 friends. 
 
 K. Hen. Come hither, you that would be combatants ; 
 Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour. 
 Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause. 
 And you, my lords, remember where we are ; 
 In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation : 
 If they perceive dissention in our looks, 
 And that within ourselves we disagree. 
 How will their grudging stomaclis be provok'd 
 To wilful disobedience, and rebel ! 
 Beside, what infamy will there arise, 
 When foreign princes shall be certified 
 That, for a toy, a thing of no regard, 
 King Henry's peers and chief nobility 
 Destroy 'd themselves, and lost the realm of France ! 
 O, think upon the conquest of my father, 
 My tender years ; and let us not forego 
 That /or a trifle tliat was bought with blood ! 
 Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. 
 I see no reason, if I wear this rose, 
 
 \_Putiing on a red rose. 
 
Scene 1.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 71 
 
 That any one should therefore be suspicious 
 I more incline to Somerset than York : 
 Both are my kinsmen, and I love them botli : 
 As well they may upbraid me with my crown, 
 Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd. 
 But your discretions better can persuade 
 Than I am able to instruct or teach : 
 And therefore, as we hither came in peace, 
 So let us still continue peace and love. 
 Cousin of York, we institute your grace 
 To be our regent in these parts of France : 
 And, good my lord of Somerset, unite 
 Your troops of horsemen witli his bands of foot ; 
 And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, 
 Go cheerfully together, and digest 
 Your angry choler on your enemies. 
 Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest. 
 After some respite, will return to Calais ; 
 From thence to England, where I hope ere long 
 To be presented, by your victories, 
 With Charles, Alenqon, and that traitorous rout. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt K. Hen., Glo., Sum., 
 Win., Suf., cmd Basset. 
 
 War. My lord of York, I promise you, the king 
 Prettily, methought, did play the orator. 
 
 York. And so he did ; but yet I like it not, 
 In that he wears the badge of Somerset. 
 
 War. Tush ! that was but his fancy, blame him not ; 
 I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. 
 
 York. And, if I wist he did, — But let it rest ; 
 Other affairs must now be managed. 
 
 [Exeunt York, W arwick, and Vernon. 
 
 Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice : 
 For had the passions of thy heart burst out, 
 I fear we should have seen decipher'd there 
 More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils. 
 Than yet can be imagin'd or su])pos*d. 
 
72 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— I'ART I. [Act IV. 
 
 But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees 
 
 This janin<j^ discord of nobility, 
 
 This should'ring of each other in the court, 
 
 This factious bandying of their favourites, 
 
 But that it doth presage some ill event. 
 
 'T is much, when sceptres are in children's Jiands : 
 
 But more, wlien envy breeds unkind division ; 
 
 There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IL— France. Before Bourdeaux. 
 E7ifcr Talbot, with his Forces. * 
 
 Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter : 
 Summon their general unto the wall. 
 
 [ Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter ^ on the loalls, the 
 General of the French Forces^ and others. 
 English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, 
 Servant in arms to Harry king of England ; 
 And thus he would, — Open your city gate.s ; 
 Be humble to us ; call my sovereign yours, 
 And do him homage as obedient subjects ; 
 And I '11 withdraw me and my bloody power : 
 But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace, 
 You tempt the I'ury of my three attcmlants, 
 Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing lire; 
 Who, in a moment-, even with the earth 
 Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers, 
 If you forsake the offer of their love. 
 
 Ge7i. Thou ominous and fearful owl of deatl), 
 Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge ; 
 The period of thy tyranny apjjroacheth. 
 On us thou canst not enter, irat by death : 
 For, I protest, we are well fortified. 
 And strong eiunigli to issue out and fight ; 
 If thou retire, the daupliin, well appointed, 
 Stands witli the snares of war to tangle thee : 
 On either hand thee theie are squadrons pitch'd, 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 73 
 
 To wall thee from tlie liberty of flight ; 
 
 And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, 
 
 But death doth front thee with apparent spoil, 
 
 And pale destruction meets thee in the face. 
 
 Ten thousand French have ta't n tlie sacrament. 
 
 To rive their dangerous artillery 
 
 Upon no christian soul but English Talbot. 
 
 Lo ! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man. 
 
 Of, an invincible unconquer'd spirit : 
 
 This is the latest glory of thy praise, 
 
 That I, thy enemy, due ^ thee withal ; 
 
 For ere the glass tliat now begins to run 
 
 Finish the process of his sandy hour. 
 
 These eyes, that see thee now well coloured. 
 
 Shall see thee wither d, bloody, pale, and dead. 
 
 [Drum afar off. 
 Hark ! hark ! the dauphin's drum, a warning bell. 
 Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul. 
 And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. 
 
 [ExevMt General, ^c, from the loalls. 
 Tal. He fables not, I hear the enemy ; — 
 Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings. — 
 O, negligent and heedless discipline ! 
 How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale ; 
 A little herd of England's timorous deer, 
 Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs 1 
 If we be English deer, be then in blood :^ 
 Not rascal-like,^ to fall down with a pinch ; 
 But rather moody-mad and desperate stags, 
 Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel. 
 And make the cowards stand aloof at bay : 
 
 ^ Due — pay as due. 
 
 ^ In blood — a term of the forest. So in * Love's Labour 'r 
 Lost :'— 
 
 " The deer was, as you know, in sanguis, blood." 
 " Rascal-like. Rascal was also a term of wood- craft for a 
 lean deer. 
 
71 KING flENRY VI.-PART I. [Act IV. 
 
 Sell every man his life as dear as mine, 
 
 And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends. 
 
 God, and Saint George ! Talbot, and England's right ! 
 
 Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight ! [Exett?it, 
 
 SCENE III.— Pfoms in Gascony. 
 Ente7^ York, with Forces ; to him a Messenger. 
 
 York. Are not the speedy scouts returned again, 
 That dogg'd the mighty army of the dauphin? 
 
 Mess. They are return'd, my lord : and give it out 
 That he is march \1 to Bourdeaux with his power, 
 To fight with Talbot : As he march'd along. 
 By your espials were discovered 
 Two mightier troops than that the dauphin led ; 
 Which join'd witli him, and made their march lor 
 Bourdeaux. 
 
 York. A plague upon that villain Somerset, 
 That thus delays my promised supply 
 Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege ! 
 Renowned Talbot dotli expect my aid ; 
 And I am lowted* by a traitor villain, 
 And cannot help tlie noble chevalier : 
 God comfort him in this necessity ! 
 If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. 
 
 Enter Sir William Lucy. 
 
 Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength, 
 Never so needful on the earth of France, 
 Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot ; 
 Who now is girdled with a waist of iron, 
 And hemm'd about with grim destruction : 
 To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York ! 
 Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour. 
 
 York. O God ! that Somerset, who in proud heart 
 
 ^ Lowted. Malone explains this, *' I am treated with cou- 
 tempt like a lowt." 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI—PART I. 75 
 
 Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place ! 
 So should we save a valiant gentleman, 
 By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. 
 Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep, 
 That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep. 
 
 Lucy, O, send some succour to tlie distressed lord ! 
 
 York, He dies, we lose ; I break my warlike v/ord : 
 We mourn, France smiles ; we lose, they daily get ; 
 All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset. 
 
 Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul ! 
 And on his son, young John ; whom, two hours since, 
 I met in travel toward his warlike father ! 
 This seven years did not Talbot see his son ; 
 And now they meet where both their lives are done. 
 
 York. Alas ! what joy shall noble Talbot have, 
 To bid his young son welcome to his grave ? 
 Away ! vexation almost stops my breath. 
 That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death. 
 Lucy, farewell : no more my fortune can, 
 But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. 
 Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away, 
 'Long all of Somerset, and his delay. [^Exit. 
 
 Lucy. Thus while the vulture of sedition 
 Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders. 
 Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss 
 The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, 
 That ever-living man of memory, 
 Henry the fifth : — Whiles they each other cross. 
 Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE lY.— Other plains of Ga,scony. 
 
 Enter Somerset, with his Forces ; an Officer of 
 Talbot'5 with him. 
 
 Som. It is too late ; I cannot send them now : 
 This expedition was by York and Talbot 
 Too rashly plotted ; all onr general force 
 
76 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [AcT.n'. 
 
 Might with a sally of the very town 
 
 Be buckled with ; the over-daring Talbot 
 
 Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour, 
 
 By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure : 
 
 York set him on to tight, and die in shame, 
 
 That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. 
 
 Off. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me 
 Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid. 
 
 Enter Sir William Lucy. 
 
 Som. How now ? sir William, whither were you sent? 
 Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and sold lord 
 Talbot ; 
 
 Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, 
 
 Cries out for noble York and Somerset, 
 
 To beat assailing death from his weak legions. 
 
 And whiles the honourable captain there 
 
 Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs, 
 
 And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue. 
 
 You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, 
 
 Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. 
 
 Let not your private discord keep away 
 
 The levied succours that should lend him aid, 
 
 While he, renowned noble gentleman, 
 
 Yields up his life unto a world of odds : 
 
 Orleans the Bastardy Charles, Burgundy, 
 
 Alengon, Reignier, compass him about, 
 
 And Talbot perisheth by your default. 
 
 Som. York set him on, York should have sent him 
 aid. 
 
 Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace exclaims ; 
 Swearing that you withhold his levied host, 
 Collected for this expedition. 
 
 »Som. York lies ; he might have sent and had the 
 liorse ; 
 
 I owe him little duty and less love ; 
 
 And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending. 
 
 
 
SCKNK v.] KING HENRY VI.~PART I. 
 
 77 
 
 Lucy. Tlie fraud of England, not tlie force of France, 
 Hath now entrapp'd the noble-mindal Talbot : 
 Never to England shall he bear his life ; 
 But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife. 
 
 Som. Come, go ; I will despatch the horsemen straight : 
 Within six hours tliey will be at his aid. 
 
 Lucy. Too late comes rescue ; he is ta'en, or slain : 
 For fly he could not, if he would have fled ; 
 And fly would Talbot never, though he might. 
 
 Som. If he be dead, bi ave Talbot then adieu ! 
 
 Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you, 
 
 [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. — The English Camp near Bourdeaux. 
 Enter Talbot and John his Son. 
 
 Tal. O young John Talbot ! I did send for thee. 
 To tutor thee in stratagems of war ; 
 That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd, 
 When sapless age, and weak unable limbs. 
 Should bring thy father to liis drooping cliair. 
 But, — O malignant and ill-boding stars ! — 
 Now thou art come unto a feast of death, 
 A terrible and unavoided^ danger : 
 Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest liorse ; 
 And I '11 direct thee how thou shalt escape 
 By sudden flight : come, dally not, begone. 
 
 John. Is my name Talbot ? and am I your son ? 
 And shall I fly ? O, if you love my mother, 
 Dishonour not her honourable name, 
 To make a bastard and a slave of me : 
 The world will say, — He is not Talbot's blood. 
 That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood. 
 
 Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. 
 
 John. He that flies so will ne'a- return again. 
 
 Tal. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. 
 
 John. Then let me stay : and, father, do you fly : 
 * Unavoided— not to be avoided. 
 
78 KING HENilY VI.— PART I. [Act IV. 
 
 Your loss is great, so your regard should be ; 
 My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. 
 Upon my death the French can little boast ; 
 In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. 
 Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ; 
 But mine it will, that no exploit have done : 
 You fled for vantage, every one will swear ; 
 But, if I bow, they '11 say it was for fear. 
 There is no hope tliat ever I will stay, 
 If the first hour I shrink, and run away. 
 Here, on my knee, I beg mortality. 
 Rather than life preserv'd with iniamy. 
 
 TaL Shall all thy mother's iiopes lie in one tomb ? 
 
 John. Ay, rather than 111 shame my mother's womb. 
 
 TaL Upon my blessing I command thee go. 
 
 John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. 
 
 Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee. 
 
 Joh7i. No part of him but will be shame in me. 
 
 Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it. 
 
 John. Yes, your renowned name : Shall flight abuse 
 it? 
 
 Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that 
 stain. 
 
 John. You cannot witness for me, being slain. 
 If death be so apparent, then both fly. 
 
 Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight and die ? 
 My age was never tainted with such shame. 
 
 John. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? 
 No more can I be severd from your side, 
 Than can yourself yourself in twain divide: 
 Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ; 
 For live I will not if my father die. 
 
 Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, 
 Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. 
 Come, side by side together live and die ; 
 And soul witli soul from France tolieaven fly. [Exeunt 
 
Scene VL] KING IIKNRY VI.— PART I. 79 
 
 SCENE VI.— ^ Field of Battle. 
 
 Alarum : Excursions, wherein Talbot*5 Son is 
 hernmed about, and Talbot rescues him. 
 
 Tal. Saint George and victory ! fight, soldiers, fig] it i 
 The regent hath with Talbot broke his word, 
 And left us to the rage of France his sword. 
 Where is John Talbot ? — pause, and take tby breath ; 
 I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death. 
 
 John. O twice my father ! twice am I thy son : 
 The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done ; 
 Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fote, 
 To my determined time thou gav'st new date. 
 
 Tal. When from the dauphin's crest thy sword struck 
 fire. 
 
 It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire 
 
 Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age, 
 
 Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage, 
 
 Beat down Alen^'on, Orleans, Burgundy, 
 
 And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. 
 
 The ireful bastard Orleans — that drew blood 
 
 From thee, my boy ; and had the maidenliood 
 
 Of thy first fight — I soon encountered ; 
 
 And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed 
 
 Some of his bastard blood ; and, in disgrace. 
 
 Bespoke him thus : " Contaminated, base, 
 
 And misbegotten blood I spill of thine. 
 
 Mean and right poor ; for that pure blood of mine, 
 
 Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy - 
 
 Here, purposing the Bastard to destro)', 
 
 Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care ; 
 
 Art thou not weary, John ? How didst thou fare 
 
 Wilt thou yet leave the battle^ boy, and fly, 
 
 Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry ? 
 
 Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead ; 
 
 The help of one stands me in little stead. 
 
80 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAUT I. [Act IV. 
 
 O, too much foll)^ is it, well I wot, 
 
 To hazard all our lives in one small boat. 
 
 If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage, 
 
 To-morrow I shall die with miclde age : 
 
 By me they nothing gain an if I stay, 
 
 'T is but the shortening of my life one day : 
 
 In thee thy mother dies, our houseliold's name. 
 
 My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fiimr : 
 
 All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay ; 
 
 All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away. 
 
 John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me sni<art; 
 
 These Avords of yours draw life-blood from my heart; 
 On that advantage, bought witli such a shame, 
 
 (To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame.) 
 
 Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly. 
 
 The coward horse that bears me fall and die : 
 
 And like me to the peasant boys of France ; 
 
 To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance. 
 
 Surely, by all the glory you have won, 
 
 An if I fly I am not Talbot's son : 
 
 Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot ; 
 
 If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. 
 
 Tal. Then follow thou thy des}>erate sire of Crete, 
 
 Thou Icarus ; thy life to me is sweet : 
 
 If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side ; 
 
 And, commendable prov'd, let 's die in pride. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Yll— Another Part of the same. 
 
 Alarum : Excursions. Enter Tai.bot zvoundcd, sttp- 
 2)orted by a Servant. 
 
 Tal. Where is my other life? — mine own is gone;— 
 O, where 's young Talbot? where is valiant John^ 
 Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity, 
 Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee. 
 When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee, 
 His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, 
 
Scene VII.] KING HENRY VI.—PART I. 
 
 81 
 
 And, like a hungry lion, did commence 
 Rough deeds of rage and stem impatience ; 
 But when my angry guardant stood alone, 
 Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd of none, 
 Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart, 
 Suddenly made him from my side to start 
 Into the clust'ring battle of the French : 
 And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
 His overmounting spirit ; and there died 
 My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 
 
 Enter Soldiers, hearing the body of John Talbot. 
 
 Serv. O my dear lord ! lo, \vhere your son is borne ! 
 
 Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to scoiti^ 
 Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, 
 Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, 
 Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, 
 In thy despite shall 'scape mortality. 
 O thou whose wounds become hard-favour*d death, 
 Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath : 
 Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no ; 
 Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe. 
 Poor boy ! he smiles, methinks ; as who should say. 
 Had death been French, then death had died to-day. 
 Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms ; 
 My spirit can no longer bear these harms. 
 Soldiers, adieu ! I have what I would have, . 
 Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. [Dies. 
 
 Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the 
 tioo bodies. Enter Charles, Alen(^on, Burgundy, 
 Bastard, La Pucelle, and Forces. 
 
 Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, 
 We should have found a bloody day of this. 
 
 Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging wood,* 
 Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood ! 
 ^ Raging wood— ra'^^'mi; mad. 
 
 VOL. VI. a 
 
82 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act IV, 
 
 Fuc. Once I encountered liim, and thus I said, — 
 Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid 
 But, with a proud, majestical high scorn, 
 He answer' d thus : " Young Talbot was not born 
 To be the pillage of a giglot wench 
 So, rushing in the bowels of the French, 
 He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. 
 
 Bur. Doubtless he would have made a noble knight ; 
 See, where he lies inhersed in the arms 
 Of the most bloody nurser of his harms. 
 
 Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder ; 
 Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. 
 
 Char. O, no ; forbear : for that which we have fled 
 During the life, let us not wrong it dead. 
 
 Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; a French Hcrahi 
 preceding. 
 
 Lucy. Herald, conduct me to the dauphin's tent ; 
 To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day. 
 Char. On what submissive message art thou sent ? 
 Lucy. Submission, dauphin ! 't is a mere Frencli 
 word ; 
 
 We English warriors wot not what it means. 
 I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en. 
 And to survey the bodies of the dead. 
 
 Char. For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our prison is. 
 But tell me whom thou seek'st. 
 
 Lucy. But where 's^ the great Alcides of the field, 
 Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury ? 
 Created, for his rare success in arms, 
 Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence ; 
 Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, 
 Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton, 
 Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of Sheffield, 
 
 ^ But where 's. It ajipeais to us that Lucy utters an exclama- 
 tion of surprise when he does not see Talbot, supposing liim to 
 be prisoner. 
 
Scene VII.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 83 
 
 The thrice-victorious lord of Falconbridge ; 
 Knight of the noble order of Saint George, 
 Wortliy Saint Michael, and the golden fleece ; 
 Great mareshal to Henry the sixth, 
 Of all his wars within the realm of France ? 
 
 Pile. Here is a silly stately style indeed ! 
 The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath, 
 Writes not so tedious a style as this. 
 Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles, 
 Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet. 
 
 Liccy. Is Talbot slain ? the Frenchman's only scourge, 
 Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis ? 
 O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd, 
 That I, in rage, might shoot tliem at your faces ! 
 O, that I could but call these dead to life ! 
 It were enough to fright the realm of France : 
 Were but his picture left among you here, 
 It would amaze the proudest of you all. 
 Give me their bodies ; that 1 may bear them hence, 
 And give them burial as beseems their worth. 
 
 Pile. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, 
 He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. 
 For God's sake, let him have 'em ; to keep them here. 
 They would but stink and putrefy the air. 
 
 Char. Go, take their bodies hence. 
 
 Lucy. I '11 bear them hence : 
 
 But from their ashes shall be rear'd 
 A phoenix that shall make all France afeard. 
 
 Char. So we be rid of them do with 'em what thou 
 wilt. 
 
 And now to Paris, in this conquering vein ; 
 
 All will be ours, now bloody Talbot 's slain. {^Exeunt 
 
 G 2 
 
84 KING liliNllY VI.— PART I. [Act V. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. — London. A Roorn in the Palace. 
 Ente7' King Henry, Gloster, and Exeter. 
 
 K. Hen. Have you perus'cl the letters from tlie jjope, 
 The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ? 
 
 Glo. I have, my lord ; and then- intent is this, — 
 They humbly sue unto your excellence, 
 To have a godly peace concluded of 
 Between the realms of England and of France. 
 
 K. Hen. How doth your grace affect their motion ? 
 
 Glo. Well, my good lord ; and as the only means 
 To stop effusion of our christian blood. 
 And 'stablish quietness on every side. 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle ; for I always thought 
 It was both impious and unnatural 
 That such immanity^ and bloody strife 
 Should reign among professors of one faith. 
 
 Glo. Beside, my lord, — the sooner to eilect, 
 x\nd surer bind, this knot of amity, — 
 The earl of Armagnac — near knit to Charles, 
 A man of great authority in France — 
 Proffers his only daughter to your grace 
 In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowrj'-. 
 
 K. Hen. Marriage, uncle ! alas ! my years are ^^oung ; 
 And fitter is my study and m.y books 
 Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. 
 Yet, call the ambassadors ; and, as you please, 
 So let them have their a^nswers every one : 
 I shall be well content with any (ihoice 
 Tends to God's glory, and my country's v/eal. 
 
 E7iter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, loith Win- 
 chester in a CarddnaVs hahit. 
 Exe. What ! is my lord of Winchester install'd, 
 ^ Immanity — hjirhiirity. 
 
SCENK I.J KING HENRY VI.— I'AIIT I. 
 
 85 
 
 And caU'd unto a cardinal's degree ? 
 Then, I perceive that v/ill be verified, 
 Henry the fifth did sometime prophesy — 
 " If once he come to be a cardinal, 
 He '11 make his cap co-equal with tlie crown." 
 
 K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several suits 
 Have been consider'd and debated on. 
 Your purpose is both good and reasonable : 
 And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd 
 To draw conditions of a friendly jx^ace ; 
 Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean 
 Shall be transported presently to France. 
 
 Glo. And for the profi'er of my lord your master, — 
 I have inform'd his highness so at large, 
 As — liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, 
 Her beauty and the value of her dower, — 
 He doth intend she shall be England's queen. 
 
 K. Hen. In argument and proof of which contract, 
 Bear her this jewel, \to the Amb.] pledge of my affec- 
 tion. 
 
 And so, my lord protector, see them guarded. 
 And safely brought to Dover ; where, inshipp'd, 
 Commit them to the fortune of the sea. 
 
 \_Exeimt K. Hen. and Train ; Glos., Exe., and Amb, 
 
 Win. Stay, m.y lord legate ; you shall first receive 
 The sum of money which I promised 
 Should be deliver'd to his holiness 
 For clothing me in these grave ornaments. 
 
 Leg. I will attend upon your lordshi})*s leisure. 
 
 Win. Now, W^iijchester will not submit, I trow, 
 Or be inferior to the proudest peer. 
 Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive, 
 That, neither in birth, or for authority. 
 The bishop will be overborne by tliee : 
 I *11 either make thee stoop and l)«iid thy knee, 
 (.'r sack this country with a mutiny. [Exeunt. 
 
66 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 SCENE II. — France. Plains in Anjou. 
 
 Enter Charles, Burgundy, x^lenqoNj La Pucells, 
 a7id Forces, marehing. 
 
 Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our droop- 
 ing spirits : 
 'T is said the stout Parisians do revolt, 
 And turn again untp the warlike French. 
 
 Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of Fnince. 
 And keep not back your powers in dalliance. 
 
 Piic, Peace be amongst them if they turn to us; 
 Else, ruin combat witli then* palaces! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Success unto our valiant general. 
 And happiness to his accomplices ! 
 
 Char. What tidings send our scouts'? I prithee speak. 
 
 Mess. The English army, that divided was 
 Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one ; 
 And means to give you battle presently. 
 
 Char. Somewliat too sudden, sirs, the warning is ; 
 But we will presently provide for them. 
 
 Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there ; 
 Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. 
 
 Ptcc. Of all base passions, fear is most accurs'd : — 
 Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine ; 
 Let Henry fret, and all tlie v/orld repine. 
 
 Char. Then on, my lords ; and France be fortunate ! 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE lll.~The same. Before Angiers. 
 Alat'ums : Excursio7is. ^^nfcr La Pucelle. 
 Pzic. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly. 
 Now, help, ye charming spells, and periapts ; ^ 
 And ye choice spirits that admonish me, 
 And give me signs of future accidents! [Thunder < 
 You speedy heljjcrs, that are substitutes 
 ^ Pmr7;;f,<;— amulets — ch.arms. 
 
Scene III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART 1. 87 
 
 Under the lordly monarch of the north,^ 
 Appear, and aid me in this enterprise ! 
 
 Enter Fiends. 
 This speedy and quick appearance argues })roof 
 Of your accustom'd diligence to me. 
 Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd 
 Out of the powerful regions under earth, 
 Help me this once, that France may get the field. 
 
 [ They loalk about and speak not. 
 O, hold me not with silence over-long ! 
 Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, 
 I '11 lop a member oif, and give it you. 
 In earnest of a further benefit ; 
 So you do condescend to help me now. — 
 
 [ They hang their heads. 
 No hope to have redress ? — My body shall 
 Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. 
 
 [They shake their heads. 
 Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice. 
 Entreat you to your wonted furtherance ? 
 Then take my soul ; my body, soul, and all, 
 Before thatEngland give the French the foil. [ They depart. 
 See ! they forsake me. Now the time is come 
 That France must veil her lofty-plumed crest. 
 And let her head fall into England's lap. 
 My ancient incantations are too weak. 
 And hell too strong for me to buckle with : 
 Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. [^Exit. 
 
 Alaru7ns. Enter French and English, fiyhting. La 
 PucELLE and York fight hand to hand. La Pu- 
 CELLE is taken. The French fly. 
 York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast ; 
 
 Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms. 
 
 And try if they can gain your liberty. 
 
 A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace ! 
 * "The monarch of the North," says Douce, " w;is Zimimar. 
 
 one of the four principal devils invoked by witches. 
 
88 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PART I. [Act V. 
 
 See, how the ugly witch doth bend her brows, 
 As if, with Circe, she would, change my shape. 
 }. Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be. 
 
 York. O, Charles the dauphin is a proper man ; 
 No shape but his can please your dainty eye. 
 
 Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and thee! 
 And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd 
 By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds ! 
 
 York. Fell, banning hag I enchantress, hold thy tongue. 
 
 Puc, I prithee, give me leave to curse a while. 
 
 York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the 
 stake. lExeu7it. 
 
 Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady 
 Margaret. 
 
 Siif. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. 
 
 [^Gazes on her. 
 
 0 fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly ; 
 
 For I will touch thee but with reverent hands. 
 
 1 kiss these fingers [kissing her han(f\ for eternal peace. 
 And lay them gently on thy tender side. 
 
 Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee. 
 
 Mar. Mai garet my name, and daughter to a king ; 
 The king of Naples ; whosoe'er thou art. 
 
 Suf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. 
 Be not offended, natm-e's miracle, 
 Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me : 
 So doth the swan her downy cygnets save. 
 Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. 
 Yet if this servile usage once offend, 
 Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. 
 
 [She turns aioay as going, 
 O stay ! — I have no power to let her pass ; 
 My hand would free her, but my heart says — no. 
 As plays the sun upon the glassy streams. 
 Twinkling another counterfeited beam. 
 So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. 
 Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak : 
 
ScENiilll.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 89 
 
 I '11 call for pen and ink, and write my miud : 
 
 Fie, De la Poole ! disable not thyself; 
 
 Hast not a tongue ? is she not here thy pnsoner ? 
 
 Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight ? 
 
 Ay ; beauty's princely majesty is such, 
 
 Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough. 
 
 Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so. 
 What ransom must I pay before I pass ? 
 For I perceive 1 am tl / prisoner. 
 
 Si(f. How canst thou tell, she will deny tliy suit, 
 Before thou make a trial of her love ? [Aside, 
 
 Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay ? 
 
 Stif. She s beautiful ; and therefore to be woo'd : 
 She is a woman ; therefore to be won. [Aside. 
 
 Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no 
 
 Suf. Fond man ! remember that thou hast a wife ; 
 Then how can Margaret be thy param.our ? [Aside. 
 
 Mar. I were best to leave him, for he will not hear. 
 
 Suf. There all is marr'd : there lies a cooling card. 
 
 Mar. He talks at random ; sure, the man is mad. 
 
 Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had. 
 
 Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me. 
 
 Siif. I '11 win this lady Margaret. For whom? 
 Why, for my king : Tush ! that 's a wooden thing. 
 
 Mar. He talks of v/ood : it is some carpenter. 
 
 Suf. Yet so my fancy ^ may be satisfied, 
 And peace established between these realms. 
 But there remains a scruple in that too : 
 For though her father be the king of Naples, 
 Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, 
 And our nobility will scorn the match. [Aside, 
 
 Mar. Hear ye, captain ? Are you not at leisure ? 
 
 Suf. It sliall be so, disdain they ne'er so much : 
 Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. 
 Madam, I have a secret to reveal. 
 
 Mar. What though I be enthrall'd ? he seems a knight, 
 And will not any way dishonour me. [Aside. 
 ^ Fancy — lf)ve. 
 
90 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act V. 
 
 Suf. Lady, vonchsafe to listen what I say. 
 Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French ; 
 And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside. 
 
 Suf. Sweet madam, giv^e me hearing in a cause 
 
 Mar. Tush ! women have been captivate ere now. 
 
 [^Aside. 
 
 Svf. Lady, wherefore talk you so ? 
 
 Mar. I cry you mercy, 't is but quid for quo. 
 
 Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose 
 Your bondage happy, to be made a queen ? 
 
 Mar. To be a queen in bondage is more vile 
 Than is a slave in base servility ; 
 For princes should be free. 
 
 Suf. And so shall you, 
 
 If happy England's royal king be free. 
 
 Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? 
 
 Suf. I '11 undertake to make thee Henry's queen ; 
 To put a golden sceptre in thy hand. 
 And set a precious crown upon thy head, 
 If thou wilt condescend to be my — 
 
 Mar. What? 
 
 Stcf His love. 
 
 Mar. 1 am unworthy to be Henry's wife. 
 
 Suf. No, gentle madam ; I unworthy am 
 To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, 
 And have no portion in the choice myself. 
 How say you, madam ; are you so content ? 
 
 Mar. An if my father please, I am content. 
 
 Suf. Then call our captains, and our colours, forth : 
 And, madam, at your father's castle walls 
 We '11 crave a parley, to confer with him. 
 
 [Troops come forivard. 
 
 A Parley sounded. Enter Reignier on the walls. 
 
 Suf. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter ])risoncr. 
 
 Reig. To wliom ? 
 
 Stif To me. 
 
 Rei(/. Si tiTolk, what remedy ? 
 
Scene III.l K ING HENRY VL—PAKT I. 91 
 
 I am a soldier, and unapt to weep, 
 Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. 
 
 Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord : 
 Consent (and for thy honour, give consent) 
 Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king ; 
 Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto ; 
 And this her easy-held imprisonment 
 Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty. 
 
 Reig. Speaks Sutiblk as he thinks ? 
 
 Suf. Fair Margaret knov/s 
 
 That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. 
 
 Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend, 
 To give thee answer of thy just demand. 
 
 [Exit from the walls. 
 
 Suf And here I will expect thy coming. 
 
 Trumpets sounded. Enter Reignier, heloio. 
 
 Reig. Welcome, brave ea.rl, into our territories ; 
 Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. 
 
 Suf Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, 
 Fit to be made companion with a king : 
 What answer makes your grace unto my suit ? 
 
 Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little wortli, 
 Ta be the princely bride of such a lord ; 
 Upon condition 1 may quietly 
 Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou, 
 Free from oppression, or the stroke of war. 
 My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please. 
 
 Suf That is her ransom, I deliver her ; 
 And those two counties, I will undertake. 
 Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. 
 
 Reig. And 1 again, in Henry's royal name, 
 As deputy unto that gracious king, 
 Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith. 
 
 Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, 
 Because this is in trafHc of a king : 
 And yet, methinks, I could be well content 
 To be mine own attorney in this case. [Aside. 
 I '11 over then to England with this news, 
 
92 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PART I. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 And make this marriage to be solemnlz'd ; 
 So, farewell, Reignier! set tliis diamond safe 
 In golden palaces, as it becomes. 
 
 Reicj. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace 
 The christian prince, king Henry, were he here. 
 
 Mar. Farev/ell, my lord ! Good wishes, praise, and 
 prayers, 
 
 Shall Sufiblk ever have of Margaret. \poln;i. 
 
 Suf. Farewell, sweet madam! But hark you, Margaret:; 
 No princely commendations to my king ? 
 
 Ma7\ Such commendations as become a maid, 
 A virgin, and his servant, say to him. 
 
 Suf. Words sweetly ])lac'd, and modestly directed. 
 But, madam, I must trouble you again, — 
 No loving token to his majesty? 
 
 Mar. Yes, my good lord ; a pure unspotted heart, 
 Never yet taint with love, I send the king. 
 
 Suf. And this v/ithal. [^Kisses her. 
 
 Mar, That for tliyself ; I v/ill not so presume, 
 To send such peevish tokens to a king. 
 
 [^Excimt Reignier a7id Margaret. 
 
 Suf. O, wert thou for myself! — But, Siulblk, stay ; 
 Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth ; 
 There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk. 
 Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise : 
 Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount ; 
 Mad, natural graces that extinguish art ; 
 Repeat their semblance often on the seas. 
 That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, 
 Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with v/onder. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV.— Camp of the Duke of Yovk, m Anjou. 
 Filter York, Warwick, a7id others. 
 York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemned to burn. 
 
 Enter La Pucelle, guarded^ and a Shepherd. 
 She}). Ah, Joan ! this kills thy father's heart outright ! 
 Have I sought every count^'v far and near, 
 
 - : 
 
ScENi: IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 93 
 
 And, now it is my chance to find tliee out, 
 
 Must I behold thy timeless cruel death? 
 
 Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I '11 die with thee ! 
 
 Puc. Decrepit miser ! ^ base ignoble wretch ! 
 I am descended of a gentler blood ; 
 Thou art no fatlier, nor no friend, of mine. 
 
 Shep. Out, out ! — My lords, an please you, 't is not so; 
 I did beget her all the parish knows : 
 Her mother liveth yet, can testify 
 She was the first fruit of my bachelorship. 
 
 War. Graceless ! wilt thou deny tliy parentage ? 
 
 York. This argues what her kind of liio hath been : 
 Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes. 
 
 Shep. Fie, Joan ! that thou wilt be so obstacle !^ 
 God knows thou art a collop of my tiesh ; 
 And for thy sake have I shed many a tear : 
 Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. 
 
 Fuc. Peasant, avamit ! — You have suborn'd this man. 
 Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. 
 
 SJiej). 'T is true, I gave a noble to the priest. 
 The morn that I was wedded to her mother. 
 Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. 
 Wilt tliou not stoop ? Nov/ cursed be the time 
 Of thy nativity ! 1 v/ould, the milk 
 Thy mother gave thee, when thou suck'dst her breast. 
 Had been a little ratsbane tor thy sake ! 
 Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, 
 I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee ! 
 Dost thou deny thy fatlier, cursed drab ? 
 O, burn her, burn her ; hanging is too good. \^Exit, 
 
 York. Take her away ; for she hath liv'd too long, 
 To fill the world with vicious qualities. 
 
 Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd ; 
 Not me begotten of a shepherd swain. 
 But issued from the progeny of kings ; 
 Virtuous, and holy ; chosen from above, 
 By inspiration of celestial grace, 
 
 ^ Miser— 'Wxeichy miserable creature. b Obstacle — obstinate. 
 
94 
 
 KING IIENIIY VI.-PART I. [Act V. 
 
 To work exceeding miracles on earth. 
 I never had to do with wicked spirits : 
 But you, — that are polluted with your lusts, 
 Stairi'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, 
 Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, — 
 Because you want the grace that others have, 
 Tou judge it straight a thing impossible 
 To compass wonders, but by help of devils. 
 No, misconceived ! Joan of Arc hath been 
 A virgin from her tender infancy. 
 Chaste and immaculate in very thought ; 
 Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously eflfus'd, 
 Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven. 
 
 York. Ay, ay ; — away with her to execution. 
 
 War, And hark ye, sirs ; because she is a mairl, 
 Spare for no fagots, let there be enow ; 
 Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, 
 That so her torture may be shortened. 
 
 Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts "2 
 Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity ; 
 That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. 
 I am with child, ye bloody homicides : 
 Murther not then the fruit within my womb. 
 Although ye hale me to a violent death. 
 
 Yo7'k. Now Heaven forefend ! the holy maid with child 
 
 War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought : 
 Is all your strict preciseness come to this ? 
 
 York. She and the dauphin have been juggling : 
 1 did imagine what would be her refuge. 
 
 War. Well, go to ; we will have no bastards live ; 
 Especially, since Charles must father it. 
 
 Puc. You are deceiv'd ; my child is none of his ; 
 It was Alenqon that enjoy 'd my love. 
 
 York. Alen^on ! that notorious Machiavel ! 
 It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. 
 
 Puc. O, give me leave, I have deluded you ; 
 'T was neither Charles nor yet the duke I nani'd, 
 Bat Reignier, king of Naples, that prevaH'd. 
 
ScEXK IV ] KING HENRY VI.— PART I. 
 
 93 
 
 War. A maiTied man ! that 's most intolerable. 
 
 York. Why, here 's a girl ! I think she knows nut well, 
 There were so many, whom she may accuse. 
 
 Wa7'. It 's sign she hath been liberal and free. 
 
 Yo7^k. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin jmre. 
 Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat, and thee ; 
 Use no entreaty, for it is in vain. 
 
 Puc. Then lead me hence ; — with whom I leave my 
 curse : 
 
 May never glorious sun reflex his beams 
 
 Upon the country where you make abode ! 
 
 But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 
 
 Environ you ; till mischief, and despair. 
 
 Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves ! 
 
 [Exit gticirded. 
 
 York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashe:^, 
 Thou foul accursed minister of hell ! 
 
 Enter Cardinal Beaufort, attended. 
 
 Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence 
 With letters of commission from the king. 
 For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, 
 Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils, 
 Have earnestly implor'd a general peace 
 Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French ; 
 And here at hand the dauphin and his train, 
 Approacheth to confer about some matter. 
 
 York. Is all our travail tum'd to this elfect ? 
 After the slaughter of so many peers, 
 So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, 
 That in this quarrel have been overthrown, 
 And sold their bodies for their coimtry's benefit, 
 Shall we at last conclude etfeminate peace ? 
 Have we not lost most part of all the towns, 
 By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, 
 Our great progenitors had conquered ? 
 O, Warwick, W arwick ! I foresee with grief 
 The utter loss of all the realm of France. 
 
 War. Be patient, York : if we conclude a peace. 
 
96 
 
 KING HENRY VL— PART I. [Act Y. 
 
 It shall be with such strict and severe covenants 
 As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. 
 
 Enter Charles, attended ; Alenqon, Bastard, 
 
 Reignier, aiid others. 
 Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed 
 That peaceful truce shall be proclaim''d in France, 
 We come to be informed by yourselves 
 What the conditions of tba.t league must be. 
 
 York. Speak, Winchester ; for boiling choler cho!:e.3 
 The hollow passage of my poison'd voice, 
 By sight of these our baleful* enemies. 
 
 Win. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus ', 
 That, in regard king Henry gives consent, 
 Of mere compassion and of lenity, 
 To ease your country of distressful ^var, 
 And suffer you to breathe in fruitfal peace, 
 You shall become true liegemen to his crown : 
 And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear 
 To pajr him tribute, and submit thyself. 
 Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him, 
 And still enjoy thy regal dignity. 
 
 Alen. Must he be then as shadow of himself? 
 Adorn his temples with a coronet ; 
 And 5^et, in substance and authority, 
 Retain but privilege of a private man ? 
 This proffer is absurd and reasonless. 
 
 Char. 'T is known already that I am possess' d 
 With more than half the Ga,llian territories. 
 And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king : 
 Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd, 
 Detract so much from that prerogative, 
 As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole"? 
 No, lord ambassador ; I '11 rather keep 
 That which I have, than, coveting for more, 
 Be cast from possibility of all. 
 
 York. Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret means 
 Used intercession to obtain a league ; 
 
 « 7?r7//'/)r7— b.inefnl. 
 
Scene V.] KING I1L:NR\ VI.— PART I. 
 
 97 
 
 And, now the matter grows to compromise, 
 
 Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison ? 
 
 Either accept the title thou usurp'st, 
 
 Of benefit proceeding from our king, 
 
 And not of any challenge of desert, 
 
 Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. 
 
 Reig. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy 
 To cavil in the course of this contract : 
 If once it be neglected, ten to one. 
 We shall not find like opportunity. 
 
 Alen. To say tlie truth, it is your policy, 
 To save your subjects from such massacre, 
 And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen 
 By our proceeding in hostility : 
 And therefore take this compact of a truce, 
 Although you break it when your ]jleasure serves. 
 
 [^Asidc^ to Charles, 
 
 War. How say'st thou, Charles ? shall our conditiou 
 stand?" 
 
 Char. It shall: 
 Only reserv'd, you claim no interest 
 In any of our towns of garrison. 
 
 York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty ; 
 As thou art knight, never to disobey, 
 Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, 
 Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England. — 
 
 [CharleS; and the rest^ give tokens of fealty. 
 So, now dismiss your army when ye please ; 
 Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still, 
 For here we entertain a solemn peace. [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. — London. A Boom in the Falacc. 
 
 Enter King Henry, in conference xoith Suffolk ; 
 Gloster and l^^^Tmi following . 
 
 K. Hen. Your wondrous rare description, noble carl; 
 Of beauteous Margaret liath astonish'd me : 
 
 VOL. VI. II 
 
98 KING HENRY VI.— PART I. [Act V. 
 
 Her virtues, graced with external gifts, 
 Do breed love's settled passions in my heart : 
 And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts 
 Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide. 
 So am I driven, by breath of her renown, 
 Either to suffer shipwrack, or arrive 
 Where I may have fruition of her love. 
 
 Suf. Tush! my good lord! this superficial tale 
 Is but a preface of her worthy praise : 
 The chief perfections of that lovely dame 
 (Had I sufficient skill to utter them) 
 Would make a volume of enticing lines, 
 Able to ravish any dull conceit. 
 And, which is more, she is not so divine, 
 So fidl replete with choice of all delights, 
 But, with as humble lowliness of mind, 
 SI)e is content to be at your command ; 
 Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents. 
 To love and honour Henry as her lord. 
 
 K. lien. And otherwise will Henry ne'er presunie. 
 Tlierefore, my lord protector, give consent 
 That Margaret may be England's royal queen. 
 
 Glo. So should I give consent to flatter sin. 
 You know, my lord, your higlmess is betroth'd 
 Unto another lady of esteem ; 
 How shall we then dispc:nse with that contract, 
 And not deface your honour with repn)acli ? 
 
 Suf. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; 
 Or one that, at a triumph having vow'd 
 To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists 
 By reason of his adversary's odds : 
 A poor earVs daughter is unequal odds, 
 And therefore may be broke without offence. 
 
 Glo. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than lhat • 
 Her father is no better than an earl, 
 Although in glorious titles he excel. 
 
 Suf. Yes, my lord, her father is a king, 
 
ScE^E V.J KING HENRY VL— PART I. 
 
 The king of Naples and Jerusalem ; 
 And of such great authority in France 
 As his alliance will confirm our })eace, 
 And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. 
 
 Glo. And so the earl of Armagnac may do, 
 Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. 
 
 Exe. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal Ch 
 Where Reignier sooner will receive than give. 
 
 Suf. A dower, my lords ! disgrace not so your k 
 That he should be so abject, base, and poor. 
 To choose for wealth, and not for perfect love. 
 Henry is able to enrich his queen. 
 And not to seek a queen to make him rich : 
 So worthless peasants bargain for their wives. 
 As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse. 
 Marriage is a matter of more worth 
 Than to be dealt in by aitorneyship ; 
 Not whom we will, but whom his grace afTecis, 
 Must be companion of his nuptial bed : 
 And therefore, lords, since he alfects lier most. 
 It most of all these reasons bindeth us, 
 In our opinions she should be preferred. 
 For what is wedlock forced but a hell. 
 An age of discord and continual strife 1 
 Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss. 
 And is a pattern of celestial peace. 
 Whom should we match with Henry, being a kli\g, 
 But Marga';et, that is daughter to a king 
 Her peerless feature, joined with her birfii, 
 Approves her fit for none but for a king : 
 Her valiant courage, and undaunted spirit, 
 (More than in women commonly is seen,) 
 Will answer our hope in issue of a king ; 
 For Henry, son unto a conqueror, 
 Is likely to beget more conquerors, 
 If with a lady of so high resolve 
 As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love. 
 
 II 2 
 
100 KING HENRY VI.—PAUT I [Act V. 
 
 Then yield, my lords ; and here conclude with me, 
 That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. 
 
 K. lien. Whether it be througli force of your rej:K)rt, 
 My noble lord of Suffolk ; or for that 
 My tender youth was never yet attaint 
 With any passion of inflaming love, 
 I cannot tell ; but this I am assurd, 
 I feel sucli sliarp dissention in my breast, 
 Sucli fierce alarums both of liope and fear, 
 As I am sick with working of my thoughts. 
 Take, therefore, shipping ; post, my lord, to Fjance: 
 Agree to any covenants; and procure 
 That lady Margaret do vouciisafe to come 
 To cross tlie seas to England and be crownM 
 King Henry's faltliful and anointed (piecn : 
 For your expenses and sufficient charge, 
 Among the people gather up a tenth. 
 Be gone, I say ; for, till you do return, 
 I rest perplexed witli a thousand cares. 
 And you, good uncle, banish all offence : 
 If you do censure'' me by what you were. 
 Not what you are, I know it will excuse 
 This sudden execution of my will. 
 And so conduct me, Avhere, from company, 
 I may revolve and ruminate m}'- grief. \Exiu 
 
 Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. 
 
 \_Exc^mt Gi.os. and Exetkii. 
 
 Suf. Thus Suffolk hath prevailed ; and thus he goes, 
 As did the youthful Paris once to Greece ; 
 With liope to find the like event in love, 
 But ]iros])cr better than tlie Trojan did. 
 Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king ; 
 But I will rule both her, tlie king, and realm. [ Exit. 
 ^ Censure — judge. 
 
 END OF KlllQ HENRY VI. PART I. 
 
KING HENRY 
 
 PART II. 
 
103 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 This drama appears in the original folio edition of 
 Sliakspere's plays under the title of ' The Second Part 
 of Henry the Sixt, with the Death of the Good Duke 
 Humfrey.' In the form in which it has been trans- 
 mitted to us by the editors of that first collected edition 
 of our author, it had not been previously printed. But 
 iij: 1594 there appeared a separate play, in quarto, under 
 the following title : — ' The First Part of the Contention 
 betwixt the two famous Houses of Yorke and Lancaster, 
 with the Death of the Good Duke Humphrey, and the 
 Banishment and Death of the Duke of Suffolke, and 
 the Tragical End of the proud Cardinall of Winchester, 
 with the notable Rebellion of Jack Cade, and the Duke 
 of Yorkes first Claime unto the Croune. Printed by 
 Thomas Creede for Thomas Millington.' This play, in 
 the entire conduct of the scenes, and in a great measure 
 in the dialogue, is * The Second Part of Henry the Sixt.' 
 But the alterations and additions are so considerable in 
 amount that it has been doubted whether the original 
 authorship belongs to Shakspere. The whole dramatic 
 conception is in the original play, and we, therefore, 
 have no doubts upon the matter. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott somewhere speaks, through one of 
 his characters, of the Lancastrian prejudices " of 
 Shakspere. The great novelist had probably in his 
 mind the delineation of Richard. But it would be 
 
 VOL. VI. 1 2 
 
104 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 difficult, we think, to have conducted the entire chro- 
 nicle history of tlie ' Contention between the two famous 
 Houses of York and Lancaster' with more rigid im- 
 partiality. This just and tolerant view of human events 
 and characters constitutes one of the most remarkable 
 peculiarities of the mind of Shakspere. Let us turn to 
 the very first scenes of these dramas, and we shall find 
 the character of the Lancastrian Margaret gradually 
 displaying itself in an aptitude for bold and dangerous 
 intrigue, founded upon her pride and impatience of a 
 rival ill authority. The Duchess of Gloster is tempted 
 by her own weak ambition to meddle with the " lime- 
 twigs " that have been set for her. But it is the pas- 
 sionate hatred of Margaret, lending itself to schemes of 
 treachery and bloodshed, that drives on the murder oi 
 the " good Duke Humphrey."' With the accomplices 
 of Margaret the retribution is instant and terrible. The 
 banished Sulfolk falls, not by the hand of the law, but 
 by some mysterious agency which appears to have 
 armed against him a power mightier than the law, 
 which seizes upon its victim with an obdurate ferocity, 
 and hurries him to death in the name of a wild and 
 irregular justice. To the second great conspirator against 
 tlie Protector the retribution is even more fearful — the 
 death, not of violence, but of mental torture, far more 
 terrible than any bodily pain. The justice which fol- 
 lowed tlie other conspirator against Humphrey had not 
 yet unsheathed its sword. His punishment was post- 
 poned till the battle-day of Wakefield. 
 
 The scenes of the first four acts of the Second Part of 
 ' Henry VI/ may appear to a superficial observation to 
 
INTRODUCTORY RKMARKS. I0;j 
 
 be very slightly linked with the after-scenes of the great 
 contest of the Roses. But it was the object of the poet 
 to show the beginnings of faction, continued onward in 
 the same form from the previous drama. The Pro- 
 tectorship was essentially a government of weakness, 
 through the jealousies which it engendered and the 
 intrigues by which it was surrounded. But the removal 
 of the Protector left the government more weak, sub- 
 jected as it then was to the capricious guidance of the 
 imbecility of Heniy and the violence of Margaret. Of 
 such a rule popular commotions are the natural fruit. 
 The author of the ' Contention,' with a depth of political 
 wisdom which Shakspere invariably displays, has ex- 
 hibited the insurrection of Cade as a movement of the 
 most brutal ignorance, instigated by a coarse rutlian, 
 upon promises which could be realised in no condition 
 of society, and for ends which proposed only such peace 
 and security as would result from the overthrow of all 
 rule and order. Nor are these remarkable scenes an 
 episode only in this great dramatic history. Cade 
 perishes, but York is in arms. The civil war is founded 
 upon the popular tumult. 
 
 The civil war is begun. The Yorkists are in the 
 field. The poet has delineated the character of their 
 leader with a nice discrimination, and certainly with- 
 out any of the coarseness of partisanship. He conveys 
 to us that York is ambitious and courageous, but some- 
 what weak, and, to a great extent, a puppet in the 
 hands of others. In the early scene in the Temple- 
 garden his ambition is rashly discovered, in a war of 
 words, commenced in accident and terminated in fruit 
 
106 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 less passion. The full development of his ambition is 
 the result of his estimation of the character of Henry, 
 and his sense of the advantage which he derives from 
 the factions which grow out of an imbecile government. 
 But he is still only a dissembler, exciting his fancies 
 with some shadowy visions of a crown, lending himself 
 to the dark intrigues of his natural and avowed enemies, 
 and calling up the terrible agency of popular violence, 
 reckless of any consequences so that confusion be pro- 
 duced. The schemes of York are successful, and he is 
 at length in arms. But he still dissembles. Passion, 
 however, precipitates that decided movement which 
 prudence would have avoided; and tlie battle of St. 
 Albaii's is the result. 
 
107 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry VI. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act 11. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1 ; 
 sc. 2 ; sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 4 ; sc. 9. Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. 
 
 Humphrey, Duke of Gloster, uncle to Henry VI. 
 Appears^ Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4. 
 Act III. sc. 1. 
 
 Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, great 
 uncle to the King. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 1 ; 
 sc. 2 ; sc. 3. 
 
 Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4. Act II. sc. 2 ; sc. 3. Act III. 
 sc. 1. Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2'; sc. 3. 
 
 Edward, son to the Duke of York. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 1. 
 
 Richard, son to the Duke of York. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2; sc. 3. 
 
 Duke of Somerset, of the King's party. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 9. 
 Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. 
 
 Duke of Suffolk, of the King's party. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act III. sc. 1 ; 
 sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 1 . 
 
 Duke of Buckingham, oftlie King's ^ar^y. 
 Appears, Act T. sc. 1 ; sc. 3; sc. 4. Act II. sc. I. Act III. sc. 1. 
 Act IV. sc. 4 ; sc. »; sc. 9. Act V. sc. 1. 
 
 
 
108 PERSONS llEPllESENTi::!). 
 
 Lord Clifford, of the ^m^'s party. 
 Appears^ Act IV. sc. 8; sc. 9. Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. 
 
 Young Clifford, so7i to Lord Clifford, of the King's 
 party. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. 
 
 Earl of Salisbury, of the York faction. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 2 ; sc. 3. Act III. so. 2; 
 sc. 3. Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. 
 
 Earl of Warwick, of the York faction. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 2. Act III. sc. 2 j sc. 3, 
 Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2; sc. 3. 
 
 Lord Scales, governor of the Tower, 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 5. 
 
 Lord Say. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 4 ; sc. 7. 
 
 Sir Humphrey Stafford. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2. 
 
 William Stafford. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2. 
 
 Sir John Stanley. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 4. 
 
 A Sea-Captain, Master, and Master's Mate. 
 Appear, Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 Walter Whitmore. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 Two Gentlemen, ^:?rwo?2er5 loith Suffolk. 
 Appear, Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 A Herald. 
 Appears, Act TI. sc. 4. 
 
PERSONS KEPRESENTKD. 
 
 109 
 
 Vaux. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 2. 
 
 Hume, a priest. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 2; sc. 4. Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 Southwell, a priest 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 4. Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 BoLiNGBROKE, a coiijiirer. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 4. I Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 Spirit raised by Bolingbroke. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 4. 
 
 Thomas Horner, an armourer, 
 Avpears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 Peter, servant to Homer. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 Clerk of Chafaam. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2. 
 
 Mayor of St. Alban's. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 1. 
 
 SiMPCox, a7i impostor. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 1. 
 
 Two Murderers. 
 Appear, Act III. sc. 2. 
 
 Jack Cade, a rebel. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 6 ; sc. 7 ; sc. 8 ; sc. 10. 
 
 George, afolloioer o/ Jack Cade. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2 ; sc. 7. 
 
 John, afolloioer o/ Jack Cade. 
 Appears, Act IV, sc. 2 ; sc. 7. 
 
110 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Dick, a follower o/" Jack Cade. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. fi ; sc. 7. 
 
 SmitH; tJie weaver, a follower q/" Jack Cade. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 2 ; sc. 7. 
 
 Michael, a follower o/" Jack Cade. 
 Appears^ Act IV. sc. 2. 
 
 Alexander Iden, a Kentish gentleman. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 10. Act V. sc. 1. 
 
 Margaret, Queen to King Henry. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act III. 
 sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 4 ; sc. 9. Act V. sc. 1 ; 2. 
 
 Eleanor, Duchess of Gloster. 
 Appears^ Act I. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4. Act II. sc. 3 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Margery Jourdain, a witch. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 4. Act II. sc. 3. 
 
 Wife to Simpcox. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 1. 
 
 Lords, Ladies, and Attendants; Pefit'miers, Alder- 
 men, a Beadle, Sheriff, and Officers; Citizens, 
 Prentices, Falconers, Guards, Soldiers, Messen- 
 gers, 8^c. 
 
 SCENE, — In various Parts of England. 
 
Ill 
 
 KING HENRY VL, 
 
 PART II. 
 
 ACT L 
 
 SCENE I. — London. A Room of State in the Palace. 
 
 Flourish of trum^yets : then hautboys. Enter, on out 
 side, King Henry, Duke of Gloster, Salisbury^ 
 Warwick, and Cardinal Beaufort ; on the other, 
 Queen Margaret, led in by Suffolk; York 
 Somerset, Buckingham, and others folloioing. 
 
 Suf As by your high imperial majesty 
 I had in charge at my depart for France, 
 As procurator to your excellence, 
 To marry princess Margaret for your grace ; 
 So, in the famous ancient city. Tours, — 
 In presence of the kings of France and Sicil, 
 The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, and Alencoii, 
 Seven earls, twelve barons,and twenty reverend bishops, — 
 I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd : 
 And humbly now upon mj bended knee. 
 In sight of England and her lordly peers, 
 Deliver up my title in the queen 
 To your most gracious hands, that are the substance 
 Of that great shadow I did represent ; 
 The happiest gii't that ever marquess gave. 
 The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd. 
 
 K. Hen. Suffolk, arise. — Welcome, queen Margaret : 
 I can express no kinder sign of love, 
 
il2 KING HENRY VI.—PAllT II. [Act I. 
 
 Than this kind kiss. — O Lord, that lends me life, 
 Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness! 
 For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face, 
 A world of earthly blessings to my soul, 
 If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. 
 
 Q. Mar. Great king of England, and my gracious 
 lord, 
 
 The mutual conference that my mind hath had. 
 By day, by night, — waking, and in my dreams, — 
 In courtly company, or at my beads, — 
 With you mine alder-liefest ^ sovereign, 
 Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
 With ruder terms, such as my wit affords, 
 And over-joy of heart doth minister. 
 
 K. Hen. Her sight did ravisii; but her grace in speech. 
 Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, 
 Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys ; 
 Such is the fulness of my heart's content. 
 Lords, with one clieerful voice welcome my love. 
 
 All. {Imeeling.'] Long live queen Margaret, England's 
 happiness 1 
 
 Q. Ma7\ We thank you all. [Flourish. 
 
 Suf. My lord protector, so it please your grace. 
 Here are tlie articles of contracted peace. 
 Between our sovereign and the French king Charles, 
 For eighteen mouths concluded by consent. 
 
 Glo. [Reads.'] " Imprimis, It is agreed between the 
 French king, Charles, and William de la Poole, mar- 
 quess of Sutfolk, ambassador for Henry king of Eng- 
 land, that the said Henry shall espouse the lady Mar- 
 garet, daughter unto Reignier king of Naples, Sicilia, 
 and Jerusalem ; and crown her queen of England, ere 
 the thirtieth of May next ensuing. — Item, — That the 
 duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be 
 released and delivered to the king her iather" — 
 
 K. Hen. Uncle, ho v/ now ? 
 
 Aider-licfcst — dearest of all. 
 
ScexkI.] king henry VI.— part II. IKJ 
 
 Glo. Pardon me, gracious lord ; 
 
 Some sudden qualm bath struck me at the heart, 
 And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further. 
 
 K. Hen. Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on. 
 
 Car. " Item, — It is further agreed between them, 
 that the duchies of Anjou and Maine sliall be released 
 and delivered over to the king her father ; and she 
 sent over of the king of England's own proper cost 
 and charges, without having any dowry.'" 
 
 K. Hen. They please us well. — Lord marquess, kneel 
 down ; 
 
 We here create thee the first duke of Suflblk, 
 And girt thee with the sword. Cousin of York, 
 W^e here discharge your grace from being regent 
 In the parts of France, till term of eighteen montbiS 
 Be full expir'd. Thanks, uncle Winchester, 
 Gloster, York, Buckingham, Somerset, 
 Salisbury, and Warwick ; 
 We thank you all for this great favour done, 
 In entertainment to my princely queen. 
 Come, let us in ; and with all speed provide 
 To see her coronation be performed. 
 
 [^Exeunt King, Queen, and Suffolk. 
 Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, 
 To you duke Humphrey must unload his grief; 
 Your grief, the common grief of all the land. 
 What ! did my brother Henry spend liis youth, 
 His valour, coin, and people, in the wars ? 
 ])id he so often lodge in open field, 
 In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat. 
 To conquer France, his true inheritance ? 
 And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, 
 To keep by policy what Henry gof? 
 Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, 
 Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, 
 Received deep scars in France and Normandy ? 
 Or hath mine uncle Beaufort, and myself. 
 
114 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART IL 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 With all the learned council of the realm. 
 
 Studied so long, sat in the council-houac. 
 
 Early and late, debating to and fro 
 
 How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe ? 
 
 And hath his highness in his infancy 
 
 Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes ? 
 
 And shall these labours, and these honours, die '? 
 
 Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, 
 
 Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die ? 
 
 O peers of England, shameful is this league ! 
 
 Fatal this marriage ! cancelling ^rour fame ; 
 
 Blotting your names from books of memory ; 
 
 Razing the characters of your renown ; 
 
 Defacing monuments of conquer'd France ; 
 
 Undoing all, as all had never been ! 
 
 Car. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse,— 
 
 This peroration with such circu instance ? 
 
 For France, 't is ours ; and we will keep it still. 
 Glo. Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can ; 
 
 But now it is impossible we sliould : 
 Suffolk, the new-made duke, that rules the roast, 
 Hath given the duchies of Anjou and Maine 
 Unto the poor king Reignier, whose large style 
 Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. 
 
 Sal. Now, by the death of him that died for all. 
 These counties were the keys of Normandy : — 
 But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son ? 
 
 W ar. For grief, that they are past recovery : 
 For were there hope to conquer them again, 
 My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears, 
 Anjou and Maine ! myself did win them both ; 
 Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer : 
 And are the cities that I got with wounds 
 Deliver'd up again with peaceful words ? 
 Mort Dieu ! 
 
 York. For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate. 
 That dims the honour of this warlike isle ! 
 
iJcENE I.] KING HK>;iiY VI. -PART il. Ub 
 
 France should have torn urA rent my very heart 
 
 Before I would have yielded to tliis league. 
 
 I never read but England's kings have had 
 
 Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their v/ives ; 
 
 And our king Henry gives away his own. 
 
 To match with her that brings no vantages, 
 
 Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before, 
 That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth, 
 For costs and charges in transporting her ! 
 She should have stay'd in France, and starv'd in France, 
 Before 
 
 Car. My lord of Gloster, now you grow too hot ; 
 It was the pleasure of my lord the king. 
 
 Glo. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind ; 
 'T is not my speeches that you do mislike, 
 But 't is my presence that doth trouble you. 
 Rancour will out : Proud prelate, in thy face 
 I see thy fury : if I longer stay 
 We shall begin our ancient bickerings. 
 Lordings, farewell ; and say, when I am gone, 
 I prophesied — France will be lost ere long. | Exit. 
 
 Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage. 
 'T is known to you he is mine enemy : 
 Nay, more, an enemy unto you all ; 
 And no great friend, I fear me, to the king. 
 Consider, lords, — he is the next of blood. 
 And heir apparent to the English crown ; 
 Had Henry got an empire by his marriage. 
 And all the v/ealthy kingdoms of the west, 
 There 's reason he should be displeas'd at it. 
 Look to it, lords ; let not his smoothing words 
 Bewitch your hearts ; be wise, and circumspect. 
 What, though the common people favour him, 
 Calling him — "Humphrey, the good duke of Gloster ;" 
 Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice — - 
 
 Jesu maintain your royal excellence!'' 
 With — " God preserve the good duke Humphrey 
 
116 KING HEN LI Y VL— PART II. [Act I. 
 
 1 fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, 
 He will be found a dangerous protector. 
 
 Buck. Why should he then protect our sovereign, 
 He being of age to govern of himself? 
 Cousin of Somerset, join you with me. 
 And all together with the duke of Suffolk, 
 We 11 quickly hoise duke Humphrey from his seat. 
 
 Car. This weighty business will not brook delay ; 
 1 11 to the duke of Suffolk presently. \Exit. 
 
 Som. Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's 
 pride, 
 
 And greatness of his place, be grief to us, 
 Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal ; 
 His insolence is more intolerable 
 Than all the princes in the land beside ; 
 If Gloster be displac'd, he 11 be protector. 
 
 Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector, 
 Despite duke Humphrey, or the Cardinal. 
 
 [Exeunt Buckingham a^ic? Somerset. 
 
 Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows him. 
 While these do labour for their own preferment^ 
 Behoves it us to labour for the realm. 
 I never saw but Humphrey duke of Gloster 
 Did bear him like a noble gentleman. 
 Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal — 
 More like a soldier than a man o' the church, 
 As stout and proud as he were lord of all — 
 Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself 
 Unlike the ruler of a commonweal. 
 Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age ! 
 Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping 
 Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, 
 Excepting none but good duke Humphrey. 
 And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, 
 In bringing them to civil discipline ; 
 Thy late exploits, done in the heart of France, 
 When thou wert regent for our sovereign, 
 
ScK^s i.] KING HENRY VI.— PART 11. 
 
 117 
 
 Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people ; 
 
 Join we toge!:her, for the public good ; 
 
 In what we can, to bridle and suppress 
 
 The pride of Suiiblk, and the cardinal, 
 
 With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition , 
 
 And, as we ma)'-, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds 
 
 While they do tend the profit of the land. 
 
 TVar. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, 
 And common profit of his country ! 
 
 Yo7'k. And so says York, for he hath greatest cause. 
 
 Sal. Then let 's make haste away, and look unto the 
 main. 
 
 War. Unto the main ! O father, Maine is lost ; 
 That Maine, which by main force Warwick did win, 
 And would have kept, so long as breath did last : 
 Main chance, father, you meant ; but I meant Maine ; 
 Which I will win from France, or else be slain. 
 
 [Exetmt War. a7id Sal. 
 
 York. Anjou and Maine are given to the French ; 
 Paris is lost ; the state of Normandy 
 Stands on a tickle* point, now they are gone : 
 Suffolk concluded on the articles ; 
 The peers agreed ; and Henry was well pleas'd, 
 To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. 
 I cannot blame them all : What is 't to them ? 
 'T is thine they give away, and not their own. 
 Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, 
 And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, 
 Still revelling, like lords, till all be gone : 
 While as the silly owner of the goods 
 Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands, 
 And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof. 
 While all is shar'd, and all is borne away ; 
 Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own. 
 So York must sit, and fret^ and bite his tongue, 
 While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold. 
 * 7'ickle — uBcevtain ; the Saxon tiliel. 
 
 VOL. VI. K 
 _ _ ^ 1 
 
118 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act I. 
 
 Methinks, the realms of England, France, and Ireland, 
 
 Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood 
 
 As did the fatal brand Althea burn'd. 
 
 Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.a 
 
 Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French ! 
 
 Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France, 
 
 Even as I have of fertile England's soil. 
 
 A day will come when York shall claim his own ; 
 
 And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts, 
 
 And make a show of love to proud duke Humphrey, 
 
 And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, 
 
 For that 's the golden mark I seek to hit : 
 
 Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right. 
 
 Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist, 
 
 Nor wear the diadem upon his head. 
 
 Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown 
 
 Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve : 
 
 Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep, 
 
 To pry into the secrets of the state ; 
 
 Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love. 
 
 With his new bride, and England's dear-bought queen. 
 
 And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars : 
 
 Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, 
 
 With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd ; 
 
 And in my standard bear the arms of York, 
 
 To grapple with the house of Lancaster ; 
 
 And, force perforce, I '11 make him yield the crown, 
 
 Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. 
 
 [Exit 
 
 SCENE II. — The same. A Room in the Duke of 
 Gloster's House. 
 
 Enter Gloster and the Duchess. 
 
 Duch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd com, 
 
 ^ Meleager, the prince of Calydon, died in great torments 
 when his mother Althea threw into the flames" the firebrand 
 upon the preservation of whic h his life depended. 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART 11. ii'j 
 
 Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load ? 
 
 Why doth the great duke Humphrey knit his brows, 
 
 As frowning at the favours of the world ? 
 
 Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, 
 
 Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight ? 
 
 What seest thou there ? king Henry's diadem, 
 
 Enchas'd with all the honours of the world ? 
 
 If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face. 
 
 Until thy head be circled with the same. 
 
 Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold : 
 
 What, is 't too short ? I '11 lengthen it with mine : 
 
 And, having both together lieav'd it up. 
 
 We '11 both together lift our heads to heav'n; 
 
 And never more abase our sight so low 
 
 As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. 
 
 Glo. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord. 
 Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts : 
 And may that thought, when I imagine ill 
 Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, 
 Be my last breathing in this mortal world ! 
 My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. 
 
 DxLch. What dream'd my lord ? tell me, and I '11 re- 
 quite it 
 
 With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. 
 
 Glo. Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court, 
 Was broke in twain ; by whom I have forgot. 
 But, as I think, it was by the cardinal ; 
 And, on the pieces of the broken wand 
 Were plac'd the heads of Edmond duke of Somerset, 
 And William de la Poole first duke of Suffolk. 
 This was my dream ; what it doth bode, God knows. 
 
 Duch. Tut, this was nothing but an argument. 
 That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove 
 Shall lose his head for his presumption. 
 But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke : 
 Methought, I sat in seat of majesty. 
 In the cathedral church of Westminster, 
 
 K 2 
 
120 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 And 111 that chair where kings and queens are crown'd j 
 Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me, 
 And on my head did set the diadem. 
 
 Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright : 
 Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor ! 
 Art thou not second woman in the realm ; 
 And the protector's wife, belov'd of him ? 
 Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command. 
 Above the reach or compass of thy thought ? 
 And wilt thou still be hammering treacherj^, 
 To tumble down thy husband and thyself, 
 From top of honour to disgrace's feet ? 
 Away from me, and let me hear no more. 
 
 Duch. What, what, my lord ! are you so cljoleric 
 With Eleanor, for telling but her dream ? 
 Next time, I '11 keep my dreams unto myself, 
 And not be check' d. 
 
 Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas 'd again. 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mes. My lord protector, 't is his highness' pleasure, 
 You do prepare to ride unto St. Alban's, 
 Whereas^ the king and queen do mean to hawk. 
 
 Glo. I go. — Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us ? 
 
 Duch. Yes, my good lord, I '11 follow presently. 
 
 \_Exeunt Gloster and Messenger. 
 Follow I must, I cannot go before. 
 While Gloster bears this base and humble mind. 
 Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, 
 I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks. 
 And smooth my way upon their headless necks : 
 And, being a woman, 1 will not be slack 
 To play my part in fortune's pageant. 
 Where are you there? Sir John!^ nay, fear not, man. 
 We are alone ; here 's none but thee and I. 
 
 * JFIiereas is here used in the sense of where. 
 
 ^ Sir John. Hume was a priest, and receives the title com 
 mou to his order. 
 
SCENK II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 1^1 
 
 Enter Hume. 
 
 Hume, .Tesu preserve your royal majesty ! 
 Diich. What say St tliou, majesty ! I am but grace. 
 Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice, 
 Your grace's title shall be multiplied. 
 
 Duch. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet con- 
 ferred 
 
 With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch ; 
 With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? 
 And will they undertake to do me good ? 
 
 Hume. This they hare promised, — to show your 
 highness 
 
 A spirit rais'd from depth of underground, 
 That shall make answer to such questions 
 As by your grace shall be propounded him. 
 
 Duch. It is enough ; I '11 think upon the questions : 
 When from St. Alban's we do make return, 
 W^e '11 see these things effected to the full. 
 Here, Hume, take this reward ; make merry, man, 
 With thy confederates in this weighty cause. \^Ex. Duch. 
 
 Hume. Hume must make merry with the duchess' 
 gold ; 
 
 Marry, and shall. But how now, sir John Hume ? 
 
 Seal up your lips, and give no words but — mum ! 
 
 The business asketh silent secrecy. 
 
 Dame Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch : 
 
 Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. 
 
 Yet have I gold, flies from another coast : 
 
 I dare not say from the rich cardinal, 
 
 And from the great and new-made duke of Suffolk ; 
 
 Yet I do find it so : for, to be plain, 
 
 They, knowing dame Eleanor's aspiring humour. 
 
 Have hired me to undermine the duchess, 
 
 And buzz these conjurations in her brain. 
 
 They say, A crafty knave does need no broker ; 
 
 Yet am I SulTolk and the cardinal's broker. 
 
122 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act I. 
 
 Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near 
 
 To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. 
 
 Well, so it stands : And thus, I fear, at last, 
 
 Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wrack ; 
 
 And her attainture v/ill be Humphrey's fall : 
 
 Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III. — The same. A Boom in the Palace. 
 Enter Peter, a7id others, with petitions. 
 
 1 Pet. My masters, let 's stand close ; my lord pro- 
 tector will come this way by and by, and then we may 
 deliver our supplications in the quill." 
 
 2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he 's a good 
 man ! Jesu bless him ! 
 
 Enter Suffolk and Queen Margaret. 
 
 1 Pet. Here 'a comes, methinks, and the queen with 
 him : I '11 be the first, sure. 
 
 2 Pet. Come back, fool ; this is the duke of Suffolk, 
 and not my lord protector. 
 
 Suf. How now, fellow ? wouldst anything with me ? 
 
 1 Pet. I pray, my lord, pardon me ! I took ye for 
 my lord protector. 
 
 Q. Mar. \^Reading the super sc^'iption^ " To my lord 
 protector!" are your supplications to his lordship? 
 Let me see them : What is thine ? 
 
 I Pet. Mine is, an 't please your grace, against John 
 Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping my 
 house, and lands, and wife and all, from me. 
 
 Suf. Thy wife too ? that 's some wrong indeed. — 
 What's yours? — What's here! [Reads.'] '"'Against 
 the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons of Mel- 
 ford." — How now, sir knave? 
 
 ^ In the quill, or in quill, must mean written — our vvritteu 
 petitions. In the same way in print means printed. 
 
Scene III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 123 
 
 2 Pet. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our 
 whole township. 
 
 Peter. [Presenting his petition.'] Against my mas- 
 ter, Thomas Homer, for saying, That the duke of York 
 was rightful heir to the crown. 
 
 Q. Mar. What say'st thou ? Did the duke of York 
 say, he was rightful heir to the crown ? 
 
 Peter. That my master was ? No, forsooth : my 
 master said, That he was ; and that the king was an 
 usurper. 
 
 Suf. Who is there? [Enter Servants.] — Take this 
 fellow in, and send for his master with a pursuivant 
 presently : — we '11 hear more of your matter before the 
 king. [Ex^eimt Servants, with Peter. 
 
 Q. Mar. And as for you that love to be protected 
 Under the wings of our protector's grace, 
 Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. 
 
 [ Tears the petition. 
 Away, base cuUions ! — Suffolk, let them go. 
 
 All. Come, let 's be gone. [Exeunt Petitioners. 
 
 Q. Mar. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise. 
 Is this the fashions in the court of England ? 
 Is this the government of Britain's isle. 
 And this the royalty of Albion's king ? 
 What, shall king Henry be a pupil still. 
 Under the surly Gloster's governance? 
 Am I a queen in title and in style, 
 And must be made a subject to a duke ? 
 I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours 
 Thou rann'st a tilt in honour of my love. 
 And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France, 
 I thought king Henry had resembled thee, 
 In courage, courtship, and proportion : 
 But all his mind is bent to holiness. 
 To number Ave-Maries on his beads : 
 His champions are the prophets and apostles; 
 His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ; 
 
124 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART IJ. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves 
 
 Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints. 
 
 I would the college of the cardinals 
 
 Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome, 
 
 And set the triple crown upon his head ; 
 
 That were a state fit for his holiness. 
 
 Suf. Madam, be patient : as I was cause 
 Your highness came to England, so will I 
 In England work your grace's full content. 
 
 Q. Mar, Beside the haughty protector, have we 
 Beaufort, 
 
 The imperious churchman ; Somerset, Buckingham, 
 And grumbling York : and not the least of these 
 But can do more in England than the king. 
 
 Suf. And he of these that can do most of all 
 Cannot do more in England than the Nevils : 
 Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers. 
 
 Q. Mar. Not all these lords do vex me half so much 
 As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife. 
 She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, 
 More like an empress than duke Humphrey's wife ; 
 Strangers in court do take her for the queen : 
 She bears a duke's revenues on her back, 
 And in her heart she scorns our poverty : 
 Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her ? 
 Contemptuous base-born callat as she is. 
 She vaunted 'mongst her minions t' other day. 
 The very train of her worst wearing-gown 
 Was better worth than all my father's lands, 
 Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter. 
 
 Suf, Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her \ 
 And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds, 
 That she will light to listen to the lays. 
 And never mount to trouble you again. 
 So, let her rest : And, madam, list to me ; 
 For I am bold to counsel you in this : 
 Although we fancy not the cardinal, 
 
Scene III.] KING HENRY VI.-PART II. 125 
 
 Yet must we join with him, and with the lords, 
 Till we have brought duke Humphrey in disgrace. 
 As for the duke of York, this late complaint 
 Will make but little for his benefit : 
 So, one by one, we '11 weed them all at last. 
 And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. 
 
 Enter King Henry, York and Somerset conversing 
 with him; Duke and Duchess of Gloster, Car- 
 dinal Beaufort, Buckingham, Salisbury, and 
 Warwick. 
 
 K. Hen. For my part, noble lords, I care not which ; 
 Or Somerset, or York, all 's one to me. 
 
 York. If York have ill demean'd himself in France, 
 Then let him be denay'd^ the regentship. 
 
 Bom. If Somerset be unworthy of the place, 
 Let York be regent, I will yield to him. 
 
 War. Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no, 
 Dispute not that : York is the worthier. 
 
 Car, Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak. 
 
 War, The cardinal 's not my better in the field. 
 
 Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick. 
 
 War. Warwick may live to be the best of all. 
 
 Sal. Peace, son ; and show some reason, Buckingham, 
 Why Somerset should be preferred in this. 
 
 Q. Mar. Because the king, forsooth, will have it so. 
 
 Glo. Madam, the king is old enough himself 
 To give his censure ;^ these are no women's matters. 
 
 Q. Mar. If he be old enough, what needs your grace 
 To be protector of his excellence % 
 
 Glo. Madam, I am protector of the realm ; 
 And at his pleasure will resign my place. 
 
 Suf. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. 
 Since thou wert king, (as who is king but thou ?) 
 The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack : 
 The dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ; 
 
 ^ Denay\l — denied. ^ Censure — opinion. 
 
■25 KING HENR\ VI.— PART II. [Act I 
 
 And all tne peers and nobles of the realm 
 Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. 
 
 Car. The commons hast thou rack'd ; the clergy's 
 bags 
 
 Are lank and lean witli thy extortions. 
 
 Som. Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy wife's attire, 
 Have cost a mass of public treasury. 
 
 Buck. Thy cruelty in execution, 
 Upon offenders, hath exceeded law, 
 And left thee to the mercy of the law, 
 
 Q. Mar. Thy sale of offices, and towns in France, 
 If they were known, as the suspect is great, 
 Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. 
 
 [Exit Gloster. The Queen drops her fail 
 Give me my fan: What, minion! can you not? 
 
 [Gives the Duchess a box on the ear 
 I cry you mercy, madam ; was it you ? 
 
 Duch, Was 't I ? yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman 
 Could I come near your beauty with my nails, 
 I 'd set my ten commandments* in your face. 
 
 K. Hen. Sweet aunt, be quiet ; 't was against her will. 
 
 Duch. Against her will ! Good king, look to 't in time ; 
 She '11 hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby. 
 Though in this place most master wear no breeches. 
 She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd. 
 
 [Exit Ducii. 
 
 Buck. Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, 
 And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds : 
 She 's tickled now : her fume needs no spurs, 
 She ']1 gallop far enough to her destruction. [Ex. Buck. 
 
 Re-enter Glosteu. 
 
 Glo. Now, lords, my choler being over-blown. 
 With walking once about the quadrangle, 
 
 ^ Ten commandments. Thisphrase,AV'hich might more worthily 
 fill the moutli of a lady of the fish-market, was common to the 
 dramatists who wrote before the date of this play, and alter. 
 
Scene HI.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 127 
 
 I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. 
 As for your spiteful false objections, 
 Prove them, and I lie open to the law : 
 But God in mercy so deal with my soul. 
 As I in duty love my king and country ! 
 But, to the matter that we have in hand : 
 I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man 
 To be your regent in the realm of France. 
 
 Suf. Before we make election, give me leave 
 To show some reason, of no little force, 
 That York is most unmeet of any man. 
 
 York. I '11 tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet. 
 First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride : 
 Next, if I be appointed for the place, 
 My lord of Somerset will keep me here. 
 Without discharge, money, or furniture, 
 Till France be won into the dauphin's hands. 
 Last time, I danc'd attendance on his will, 
 Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost. 
 
 War. That can I witness ; and a fouler fact 
 Did never traitor in the land commit. 
 
 Suf. Peace, headstrong Warwick ! 
 
 War. Image of pride, why should I hold my peace? 
 
 Enter Servants of Suffolk, bringing in Horneu and 
 Peter. 
 
 Suf Because here is a man accus'd of treason : 
 Pray God, the duke of York excuse himself! 
 
 York. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor ? 
 
 K. Hen. What mean'st thou, Suffolk ? Tell me : 
 What are these? 
 
 Suf. Please it your majesty, this is the man 
 That doth accuse his master of high treason : 
 His words were these ; — that Richard, duke of York, 
 Was rightful heir unto the English crown ; 
 And that your majesty was an usurper. 
 
 K. Hen. Say, man, were these thy words ? 
 
128 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Hoi\ An 't shall please your majesty, I never said 
 nor thought any such matter : God is my witness, I am 
 falsely accused by the villain. 
 
 Pet. By these ten bones,^ my lords, \Jiolding up his 
 hoAids] he did speak them to me in the garret one night, 
 as we were scouring my lord of York's armour. 
 
 York. Base dunghill villain, and mechanical, 
 I '11 have thy head for this thy traitor's speech : — 
 I do beseech your royal majesty, 
 Let him have all the rigour of the law. 
 
 Hor. Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the 
 words. My accuser is my prentice ; and when I did 
 correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon 
 his knees he would be even with me : I have good wit- 
 ness of this ; therefore, I beseech your majesty, do not 
 cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation. 
 
 K. Hen. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law ? 
 
 Glo. This doom, my lord, if I may judge. 
 Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, 
 Because in York this breeds suspicion : 
 And let tliese have a day appointed them 
 For single combat, in convenient place ; 
 For he hath witness of his servant's malice : 
 This is the law, and this duke Humphrey's doom. 
 
 Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty. 
 
 Hor. And I accept the combat willingly. 
 
 Pet. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight ; for God's sake, 
 pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth against me. 
 O Lord, have mercy upon me! I shall never be able 
 to fight a blow : O Lord, my heart ! 
 
 Glo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be liang'd. 
 
 K. Hen. Away with them to prison : and the day 
 Of combat shall be the last of the next month. — 
 Come, Somerset, we '11 see thee sent away. \_Exeunt, 
 
 ^ Ten bones. This is an ancient adjuration. 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 129 
 
 SCENE lY.— The same. The Duke of Glostei'5 
 Garden. 
 
 Enter Margery Jourdain, Hume, Southwell, 
 
 a7ld BOLINGBROKE. 
 
 Hume. Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell you, 
 expects performance of your promises. 
 
 Boling. Master Hume, we are therefore provided : 
 Will her ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms ? 
 
 Hume. Ay : What else ? fear you not her courage. 
 
 Boling. I have heard her reported to be a woman of 
 an invincible spirit : But it shall be convenient, master 
 Hume, that you be by her aloft while we be busy below ; 
 and so, I pray you, go in God's name, and leave us. 
 [Exit Hume.] Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate, 
 and grovel on the earth : John Southwell, read you ; and 
 let us to our work. 
 
 Enter Duchess, above, 
 
 Dueh, Well said, my masters ; and welcome all. 
 To this geer ; the sooner the better. 
 
 Boling* Patience, good lady ; wizards know their 
 times : 
 
 Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, 
 The time of night when Troy was set on fire ; 
 The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs howl, 
 And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves. 
 That time best fits the work we have in hand. 
 Madam, sit you, and fear not ; whom we raise, 
 We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. 
 [Here they perform the ceremonies appertaining, and 
 make the circle; Bolingbroke, or Southwell, 
 reads, Conjuro te, &c. It thunders and lightens 
 terribly ; then the Spirit riseth, 
 Spir. Adsum. 
 M. Jourd. Asmath, 
 
130 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act i. 
 
 By the eternal God, whose name and power 
 
 Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask ; 
 
 For till thou speak thou shalt not pass from hence. 
 
 S'pir. Ask what thou wilt : That I had said and done ! 
 
 Boling. " First of the king. What shall of him 
 become f [^Reading out of a paper. 
 
 Spir. The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ; 
 But him outlive^ and die a violent death. 
 [^5 the Spirit speaks, Southwell writes the answer. 
 
 Boling. " What fates await the duke of Suffolk f 
 
 Spir. By water shall he die, and take his end. 
 
 Boling. "What shall befall the duke of Somerset?" 
 
 Spir, Let him shun castles ; 
 Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
 Than where castles mounted stand. 
 Have done, for more I hardly can endure. 
 
 Boling. Descend to darkness and the burning lake : 
 False fiend, avoid ! [^Thu7ider and lightning. Spirit 
 descends. 
 
 Enter York and Buckingham, hastily, with their 
 Guards, and others. 
 
 York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and their trash. 
 Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch. — 
 What, madam, are you there ? the king and commonweal 
 Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains ; 
 My lord protector will, I doubt it not, 
 See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts. 
 
 Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's king, 
 Injurious duke ; that threat'st where is no cause. 
 
 Buck. True, madam, none at all. What call you this ? 
 
 [Showing her the papers. 
 Away with them ; let them be clapp'd up close, 
 And kept asunder : — You, madam, shall with us : — 
 Stafford, take her to thee. [Exit DucHEss/rom above. 
 We '11 see your trinkets here all forthcoming : 
 All away ! [Exeunt Guavds, toith South., Boling., <Src. 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 131 
 
 York. Lord Buckingham, methinks you Avatch'd her 
 well : 
 
 A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon : 
 
 Now, pray, my lord, let 's see the devil's writ. 
 
 What have we here? \Iteads, 
 
 The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose ; 
 But him outlive, and die a violent death." 
 Why, this is just, 
 
 Aio te, JEacida, Romanos vincere posse. 
 Well, to the rest : 
 
 " Tell me, what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk? 
 
 By water shall he die, and take his end. — 
 
 What shall betide the duke of Somerset ? 
 
 Let him shun castles ; 
 
 Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
 
 Than where castles mounted stand." 
 
 Come, come, my lords ; 
 
 These oracles are hardily attained, 
 
 And hardly understood. 
 
 The king is now in progress toward St. Alban's, 
 With him the husband of this lovely lady : 
 Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry them ; 
 A sorry breakfast for my lord protector. 
 
 Buck. Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York, 
 To be the post, in hope of his reward. 
 
 York. At your pleasure, my good lord. — 
 Who 's within there, ho I 
 
 Enter a Servant. 
 Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick 
 To sup with me to-morrow night. — Away ! \Exeimt. 
 
132 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act 11. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I.— Saint Alban's. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Gloster, 
 Cardinal, and Suffolk, ^oith Falconers hollaing. 
 
 Q. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,a 
 I saw not better sport these seven years' day : 
 Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high ; 
 And ten to one old Joan had not gone out. 
 
 K. Hen. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, 
 And what a pitch she flew above the rest ! — 
 To see how God in all his creatures worlds ! 
 Yea, man and birds are fain ^ of climbing high. 
 
 Suf. No marvel, an it like your majesty, 
 My lord protector's hawks do tower so well ; 
 They know their master loves to be aloft, 
 And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. 
 
 Glo. My lord, 't is but a base ignoble mind 
 That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. 
 
 Car. I thought as much ; he would be above the 
 clouds. 
 
 Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal : How think you by that ? 
 Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven? 
 
 K. Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy ! 
 
 Car. Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and thoughts 
 Beat on a crown,'= the treasure of thy heart ; 
 Pernicious protector, dangerous peer. 
 That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal ! 
 
 ^ Flying at the 6roo^— flying at birds of the brook ; hawking 
 at waterfowl. 
 
 b Fain. We think that in this quotation fain means glad^in 
 the Saxon meaning. 
 
 ^ Beat on a crown— diXQ intent on a crown. 
 
Scene I.J KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 133 
 
 Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown pe- 
 remptory ? 
 Tantcene anmiis ccelestibus irce ? 
 Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice; 
 With such holiness can you do it ? 
 
 Suf. No malice, sir ; no more than well becomes 
 So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer. 
 
 Glo. As who, my lord ? 
 
 Suf. Why, as you, my lord ; 
 
 An 't like your lordly lord-protectorship. 
 
 Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence. 
 
 Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster. 
 
 K. Hen. I prithee, peace, 
 
 Good queen ; and whet not on these furious peers, 
 For blessed are the peacemakers on earth. 
 
 Car. Let me be blessed for the peace I make. 
 Against this proud protector with my sword ! 
 
 Glo. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 't were come to that ! 
 
 \_Aside to the Cardinal. 
 
 Car. Marry, when thou dar'st. \_Aside. 
 
 Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the matter, 
 In thine own person answer thy abuse. [Aside. 
 
 Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep : an if thou dar'st. 
 This evening, on the east side of the grove. [Aside 
 
 K. Hen. How now, my lords ? 
 
 Car. Believe me, cousin Gloster, 
 
 Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, 
 We had had more sport. — Come, with thy two-hand 
 sword. [Aside to Gloster. 
 
 Glo. True, uncle. 
 
 Car. Are you advis'dl — the east side of the grove? 
 Glo. Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside. 
 K. He7i. Why, how now, uncle Gloster ! 
 
 Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord. — 
 Now, by God's mother, priest, I '11 shave your crown 
 for this, 
 
 Or all my fence shall fail. [Aside, 
 
 VOL. VI. L 
 
134 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act II. 
 
 Car. Medico teipmm ; 
 Protector, see to 't well, protect yourself. \_Aside. 
 K. Hen. The winds grow high, so do your stomachs, 
 lords. 
 
 How irksome is this music to my heart ! 
 When such strings jar, what hope of harmony ? 
 I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. 
 
 Enter One, crying, A Miracle ! 
 
 Glo. What means this noise ? 
 Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim ? 
 One. A miracle ! a miracle ! 
 
 Suf. Come to the king, and tell him what miracle. 
 
 One. Forsooth, a blind man at St. Albans shrine, 
 Within this half-hour, hath receiv'd his sight ; 
 A man that ne'er saw in his life before. 
 
 K. Hen. Now, God be prais'd 1 that to believing souls 
 Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair ! 
 
 Enter the Mayor of St. Albari's, mid his brethren ; and 
 SiMPcox, borne beticeen two persons in a chair ; his 
 wife and a great multitude folloxoing , 
 
 Car. Here come the townsmen on procession, 
 To present your highness with the man. 
 
 K. Hen. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale, 
 Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. 
 
 Glo. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the king ; 
 His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. 
 
 K. Hen. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, 
 That we for thee may glorify the Lord. 
 What, hast thou been long blind, and now restor 'd ? 
 
 ^imp. Born blind, an 't please your, grace. 
 
 Wife. Ay, indeed, was he. 
 
 i^uf. What woman is this ? 
 
 Wife. His wife, an 't like your worship. 
 
 Glo. Hadst thou been his mother thou couldst have 
 better told. 
 
Scene!.] KING HENRY VI.-PART JI. 
 
 135 
 
 K. Hen. Where wert thou bom ? 
 Simp. At Berwick in the north, an 't like your grace. 
 K. Hen. Poor soul ! God's goodness hath been great 
 to thee : 
 
 Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, 
 But still remember what the Lord hath done. 
 
 Q. Mar. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by 
 chance. 
 
 Or of devotion, to this holy shrine ? 
 
 Simp. God knows, of pure devotion ; being call'd 
 A hundred times, and oftener, in my sleep 
 By good Saint Aiban ; who said, — " Simpcox, come ; 
 Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee." 
 
 Wife. Most true, forsooth ; and many time and oft 
 Myself have heard a voice to call him so. 
 
 Car. What, art thou lame ? 
 
 Simp, Ay, God Almighty help me ! 
 
 Suf. How cam'st thou so ? 
 Simp. A fall off of a tree. 
 
 Wife. A plum-tree, master. 
 
 Glo. How long hast thou been blind ? 
 
 Simp. O, bom so, master. 
 
 Glo. What, and wouldst climb a tree ? 
 
 Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a youth. 
 Wife. Too true ; and bought his climbing very dear. 
 Glo. 'Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that wouldst 
 venture so. 
 
 Simp. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some 
 damsons. 
 
 And made me climb, with danger of my life. 
 
 Glo. A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve. — 
 Let me see thine eyes : — wink now ; now open them : — 
 In my opinion yet thou seest not well. 
 
 Simp. Yes, master, clear as day ; I thank God and 
 Saint Alban. 
 
 Glo. Say'st thou me so ? What colour is this cloak of? 
 Simp. Red, master ; red as blood. 
 
 L 2 
 
136 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 Glo. Why, that 's well said : What colour is my 
 gown of? 
 
 Simp. Black, forsooth; coal-black, as jet. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of? 
 
 Suf. And yet, I think, jet did he never see. 
 
 Glo. But cloaks and gowns, before this day, a many. 
 
 Wife. Never, before this day, in all his life. 
 
 Glo. Tell me, sirrah, what 's my name? 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, I know not. 
 
 Glo. What 's his name ? 
 
 Simp. I know not. 
 
 Glo. Nor his? 
 
 Simp. No, indeed, master. 
 
 Glo. What 's thine own name ? 
 
 Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master. 
 
 Glo. Then, Saimder, sit there, the lyingest knave in 
 Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou 
 mightst as well have known all our names, as thus to 
 name the several colours we do wear. Sight may dis- 
 tinguish of colours, but suddenly to nominate them all, 
 it is impossible. — My lords. Saint Alban here hath 
 done a miracle ; and would ye not think that cunning 
 to be great that could restore this cripple to his legs 
 again ? 
 
 Simp. O master, that you could ! 
 
 Glo. My masters of St. Alban* s, have you not beadles 
 in your town, and things called whips ? 
 
 May. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. 
 
 Glo. Then send for one presently. 
 
 May. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. 
 
 [Exit an Attendant. 
 
 Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. [A 
 stool brought out.'] Now, sirrah, if you mean to save 
 yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool and run 
 away. 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone ; 
 you go about to torture me in vain. 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 Re-enter Attendant, toith the Beadle. 
 
 Glo. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. 
 Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same 
 stool. 
 
 Bead. I will, my lord. — Come on, sirrah ; off with 
 your doublet quickly. 
 
 Simp. Alas, master, what shall I do ? I am not able 
 to stand. 
 
 [Afte7' the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps 
 over the stool, and runs aioay ; and the people 
 follow, and cry, A Miracle ! 
 K. lien. O God, seest thou this, and bear st so long % 
 Q. Mar. It made me laugh to see the villain run. 
 Glo. Follow the knave ; and take this drab away. 
 Wife. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need. 
 Glo. Let them be whipped through every market 
 town, till they come to Berwick, from whence they 
 came. \_Exeimt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, S^c. 
 
 Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day. 
 Suf True ; made the lame to leap, and Hy away 
 Glo. But you have done more miracles than I ; 
 You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly. 
 
 Filter Buckingham. 
 
 K. Hen. What tidings with our cousin Buckingham ? 
 
 Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. 
 A sort'^ of naughty persons, lewdly^ bent, — 
 Under the countenance and confederacy 
 Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife. 
 The ringleader and head of all this rout, — 
 Have practised dangerously against your state. 
 Dealing with witches, and with conjurers : 
 Whom we have apprehended in tlie fact ; 
 Raising up wicked spirits from under ground. 
 Demanding of king Henry's life and death, 
 
 ^ Sort— company. Lewdly — wickedly. 
 
138 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 And other of your highness' privy council, 
 As more at large your grace shall understand. 
 
 Car. And so, my lord protector, by this means 
 Your lady is forthcommg yet at London. 
 This news, I think, hath tnrn'd your weapon's edge 
 T is like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. 
 
 [Aside to Gloster. 
 Glo. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my 
 heart ! 
 
 Sorrow and grief have vanquish 'd all my powers : 
 And vanquish'd as I am I yield to thee. 
 Or to the meanest groom. 
 
 K. Hen. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked 
 ones ; 
 
 Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Gloster, see here the tainture of thy nest ; 
 And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best. 
 
 Glo. Madam, for myself, to Heaven I do appeal, 
 How I have lov'd my king and conmionweal : 
 And for my wife, I know not how it stands : 
 Sorry I am to hear what I have heard j 
 Noble she is ; but if she have forgot 
 Honour and virtue, and conversed with such 
 As, like to pitch, defile nobility, 
 I banish her my bed and company ; 
 And give her as a prey to law, and shame. 
 That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name. 
 
 K. Hen. Well, for this night we will repose us 
 here : 
 
 To-morrow toward London, back again. 
 
 To look into this business thoroughly, 
 
 And call these foul offenders to their answers ; 
 
 And poise the cause in justice' equal scales. 
 
 Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. 
 
 [Flourish. Exeunt. 
 
Scene II j KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 139 
 
 SCENE II.— London. The Buke 0/ York's Garden. 
 
 Enter York, Salisbury, and Warwick. 
 
 York. Now, my good lords of Salisbury and W ar- 
 wick. 
 
 Our simple supper ended, give me leave, 
 In this close walk, to satisfy myself, 
 In craving your opinion of my title, 
 WTiich is infallible, to England's crown. 
 
 Sal. My lord, I long to hear it at full. 
 
 War. Sweet York, begin : and if thy claim be good, 
 The Nevils are thy subjects to command. 
 
 York, Then thus— 
 Edward the third, my lords, had seven sons : 
 The first, Edward the Black Prince, prince of Wales ; 
 The second, William of Hatfield ; and the third, 
 Lionel, duke of Clarence ; next to whom 
 Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster : 
 The fifth was Edmond Langley, duke of York ; 
 The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloster ; 
 William of Windsor was the seventh, and last. 
 Edward, the Black Prince, died before his father ; 
 And left behind him Richard, his only son. 
 Who, after Edward the third's death, reign'd as king ; 
 Till Henry Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster, 
 The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, 
 Crown'd by the name of Henry the fourth, 
 Seiz'd on the realm ; depos'd the rightful king ; 
 Sent his poor queen to France from whence she came, 
 And him to Pomfret ; where, as all you know, 
 Harmless Richard was murthered traitorously. 
 
 War. Father, the duke hath told the truth ; 
 Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. 
 
 York. Which now they hold by force, and not by 
 right; 
 
 For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead, 
 The issue of the next son should have reign'd. 
 
140 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act II. 
 
 Sal, But William of Hatfield died without an heir. 
 York. The third son, duke of Clarence, (from whose 
 line 
 
 I claim the crown,) had issue — Philippe, a daugliter, 
 Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of March : 
 Edmund had issue — Roger, earl of March : 
 Roger had issue — Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. 
 
 Sal. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, 
 As I have read, laid claim unto the crown ; 
 And but for Owen Glendower had been king, 
 Who kept him in captivity till lie died. 
 But, to the rest. 
 
 York. His eldest sister, Anne, 
 
 My mother, being heir unto the crown. 
 Married Richard earl of Cambridge ; who was son 
 To Edmond Langley, Edward the third's fifth son. 
 By her I claim the kingdom : she was heir 
 To Roger earl of March ; who was the son 
 Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe, 
 Sole daughter unto Lionel duke of Clarence ; 
 So if the issue of the elder son 
 Succeed before the younger, I am king. 
 
 War. What plain proceedings are more plain tlian 
 this? 
 
 Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, 
 The fourth son ; York claims it from the third. 
 Till Lionel's issue fails his should not reign : 
 It fails not yet ; but flourishes in thee. 
 And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. 
 Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together ; 
 And, in this private plol^/ be we the first 
 That shall salute our righll'ul sovereign, 
 With lionour of his birthright to tlie crown. 
 
 Both. Long live our sovereiga Richard, England's 
 king! 
 
 York. We tliank you, lords. But I am not your king 
 » P/«i— s])ot.. 
 
ScKNE III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART 11. HI 
 
 Till I be crown'd ; and that my sword be stain'd 
 With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster ; 
 And that 's not suddenly to be perform'd ; 
 But with advice, and silent secrecy. 
 Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days. 
 Wink at the duke of Suflblk s insolence. 
 At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, 
 At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, 
 Till tliey have snar'd the shepherd of the flock, 
 That virtuous prince, the good duke Humphrey : 
 'T is that they seek ; and they, in seeking that, 
 Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. 
 
 Sal. My lord, break we off; we know your mind at 
 full. 
 
 War, My heart assures me that the earl of Warwick 
 Shall one day make the duke of York a king. 
 
 York. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself, — 
 Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick 
 The greatest man in England but the king. \_Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE lll.— The sayne. A Hall of Justice. 
 
 Trumpet sounded. Enter King Henry, Queen Mar- 
 garet, Gloster, York, Suffolk, and Salisbury ; 
 the Duchess of Gloster, Margery Jourdain, 
 Southwell, Hume, and BoiiiNGBROKE, under 
 guard. 
 
 K. Hen. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, Glos- 
 ter 's wife : 
 
 In si gilt of God, and us, your guilt is great ; 
 Receive the sentence of the law, for sins 
 Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death. 
 You four, from hence to prison back again ; 
 
 [To JOURD., <SfC. 
 
 From thence, unto the place of execution : 
 The v/itch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes. 
 And you three shall be strangled on the gallov/s. 
 
142 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART 11. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 You, madam, for you are more nobly born, 
 Despoiled of your honour in your life, 
 Shall, after three days' open penance done, 
 Live in your country here in banishment. 
 With sir John Stanley, in the isle of Man. 
 
 Duch. Welcome is banishment, welcome were my 
 death. 
 
 Glo. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee ; 
 I cannot justify whom the law condemns. — 
 
 [^Exeunt the Duch., and the other prisoners, gttarded. 
 Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. 
 Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age 
 Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground ! 
 I beseech your majesty give me leave to go ; 
 Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease. 
 
 K. Hen. Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster ; ere thou go 
 Give up thy stalT ; Henry will to himself 
 Protector be : and God shall be my hope, 
 My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet ; 
 And go in peace, Humphrey; no less belov'd 
 Than when thou wert protector to thy king. 
 
 Q. Mar. I see no reason why a king of years 
 Should be to be protected like a child. 
 God and king Henry govern England's helm : 
 Give up your stalf, sir, and the king his realm. 
 
 Glo. My staff? — here, noble Henry, is my staff : 
 As willingly do I the same resign. 
 As ere thy father Henry made it mine ; 
 And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it. 
 As others would ambitiously receive it. 
 Farewell, good king : when I am dead and gone. 
 May honourable peace attend thy tlirone. [Exit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret 
 queen ; 
 
 And Humphrey duke of Gloster scarce himself, 
 That bears so shrewd a maim ; two pulls at once,— 
 His lady banish' d, and a limb lopp'd off; 
 
Scene III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 143 
 
 This staff of honour raught :^ — There let it stand, 
 Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. 
 
 Suf. Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs his 
 sprays ; 
 
 Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. 
 
 York. Lords, let him go : — Please it your majesty, 
 This is the day appointed for the combat ; 
 And ready are the appellant and defendant. 
 The armourer and his man, to enter the lists. 
 So please your highness to behold the fight. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord ; for purposely therefore 
 Left 1 the court, to see this quarrel tried. 
 
 K. Hen. O' God's name, see the lists and all things fit ; 
 Here let them end it, and God defend the right ! 
 
 York. I never saw a fellow worse bested. 
 Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, 
 The servant of this armourer, my lords. 
 
 Enter, on one side, Horner, and his neighbours drink- 
 ing to him so much that he is drunk ; and he enters 
 hearing his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it; a 
 drum before him : at the other side, Peter, loith a 
 drum and a similar staff; accompanied by ])rentices 
 drinking to him, 
 
 1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in 
 a cup of sack. And fear not, neighbour, you shall do 
 well enough. 
 
 2 Neigk. And here, neighbour, here 's a cup of char- 
 neco.^ 
 
 3 Neigh. And here 's a pot of good double beer, 
 neighbour : drink, and fear not your man. 
 
 Hor. Let it come, i' faith, and I '11 pledge you all ; 
 and a fig for Peter ! 
 
 1 Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee ; and be not 
 afraid. 
 
 ^ Raught means here taken away. 
 ^ Charneco — the name of a v ine. 
 
141 
 
 2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master : 
 fight for credit of the prentices. 
 
 Peter. I thank you all : drink, and pray for me, I 
 pray you ; for I think I have taken my last draught in 
 this world. — Here, Robin, an if I die I give thee my 
 apron ; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer : — and 
 here, Tom, take all rhe money that I have. — O Lord, 
 bless me, I pray God ! for I am never able to deal with 
 my master, he hath learnt so much fence already. 
 
 Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. — 
 Sirrah, what 's thy name ? 
 
 Peter. Peter, forsooth. 
 
 Sal. Peter I what more ? 
 
 Peter, Thump. 
 
 Sal. Thump ! then see thou thump thy master well. 
 
 Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my 
 man's instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an 
 honest man : and touching the duke of York, I will 
 take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the 
 king, nor the queen : And therefore, Peter, have at thee 
 with a downright blow, as Be vis of Southampton fell 
 upon Ascapart. 
 
 York. Despatch; — this knave's tongue begins to 
 double. 
 
 Sound trumpets alarum to the combatants. 
 
 [Alarimi. Theyjight, and Peter strikes dozen his 
 master. 
 
 Hor. Hold, Peter, hold ! I confess, I confess treason. 
 
 [pies. 
 
 York. Take away his weapon : — Fellow, thank God, 
 and the good wine in thy master's way. 
 
 Peter. O God ! have I overcome mine enemies in 
 this presence? O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right! 
 
 A'. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight ; 
 For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt : 
 And God, in justice, hatli reveal'd to us 
 The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, 
 
Scenic IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 145 
 
 Which he liad thought to have murthei'd wrongfully. 
 Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeimi. 
 
 SCENE lY.—The same. A. Street 
 Enter Gloster and Servants, m mourning cloaks, 
 
 Glo. Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud ; 
 And after summer evermore succeeds 
 Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold : 
 So cares and joys abound as seasons lieet. 
 Sirs, what *s o'clock ? 
 
 Serv. Ten, my lord. 
 
 Glo. Ten is the hour that was appointed me. 
 To watch the coming of my puiilsh'd duchess ; 
 Uneatha may she endure the flinty streets, 
 To tread them with her tender-feeling leet. 
 Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook 
 The abject people, gazing on thy face. 
 With envious^ looks still laughing at thy shame, 
 That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels, 
 W^hen thou didst ride in triumph through the streets. 
 But soft ! I think she comes ; and I '11 prepare 
 My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. 
 
 Enter the Duchess of Gloster, i7i a white sheet, ivith 
 papers pinned upon her hack, her feet hare, and a 
 taper hurning in her hand; Sir John Stanley, a 
 Sheriff, and Officers. 
 
 Serv. So please your grace, we 11 take lier from the 
 sheriff. 
 
 Glo. No, stir not, for your lives ; let her pass by. 
 
 Duch. Come you,, my lord, to see my open shame ? 
 Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze ! 
 See, how the giddy multitude do point. 
 And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee ! 
 Ab, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks : 
 
 * Uneath — not easily. ^ Envious — malicious. 
 
146 
 
 KING HENllY.VI.— PAIIT II. [Act II. 
 
 And in thy closet pent up rue my shame, 
 And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine. 
 
 Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell ; forget this grief. 
 
 Duck. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself : 
 For, whilst I think I am thy married wife, 
 And thou a prince, protector of this land, 
 Methinks I should not thus be led along, 
 Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back ; 
 And followed with a rabble, that rejoice 
 To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet^ groans. 
 The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ; 
 And when I start the envious people laugh. 
 And bid me be advised how I ti-ead. 
 Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke ? 
 Trowest thou that e'er I "11 look upon the world ; 
 Or count tliem happy that enjoy the sun ? 
 No ; dark shall be my light, and night my day ; 
 To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. 
 Sometime 1 '11 say, I am duke Humphrey's wife ; 
 And he a prince, and ruler of the land : 
 Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was. 
 As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess, 
 Was made a wonder, and a pointing stock. 
 To every idle rascal follower. 
 But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame ; 
 Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death 
 Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will. 
 For Suffolk, — he that can do all in all 
 With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all, — 
 And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest, 
 Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings, 
 And, fly thou how thou canst, they '11 tangle thee : 
 But fear not thou until thy foot be snar'd, 
 Nor never seek prevention of thy foes. 
 
 Glo. Ah, Nell, forbear ; thou aimest all awry ; 
 I must oflend before I be attainted : 
 
 * Deep-fet — deep fetched. 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. m 
 
 And had I twenty times so many foes, 
 
 And each of them had twenty times tlieir power, 
 
 All these could not procure me any scath,'^ 
 
 So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. 
 
 Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach ? 
 
 Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away, 
 
 But I in danger for the breach of law. 
 
 Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell : 
 
 I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience ; 
 
 These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. 
 
 Enter a Herald. 
 
 Her, I summon your grace to his majesty's parlia- 
 ment, hoi den at Bury the first of this next month. 
 
 Glo. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before ! 
 This is close dealing. — Well, I will be there. 
 
 [Exit Herald. 
 My Nell, I take my leave : — and, master sheriilj 
 Let not her penance exceed the king's commission. 
 Sher, An 't please your grace, here my commission 
 stays : 
 
 And sir John Stanley is appointed now 
 To take her with him to the isle of Man. 
 
 Glo. Must you, sir John, protect my lady here ? 
 
 Stan. So am I given in charge, may 't please your 
 grace. 
 
 Glo. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray 
 You use her well : 
 
 The world may laugh again ; and I may live 
 To do you kindness, if you do it her. 
 And so, sir John, farewell. 
 
 Dtich. What, gone, my lord ; and bid me not fare- 
 well? 
 
 Glo. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. 
 
 [Exeunt Gloster a7id Servants. 
 Duch. Art thou gone too ? All comfort go with thee, 
 ^ Scat/*— harm. 
 
148 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act IL 
 
 For none abides with me : my joy is — death ; 
 Death, at whose name 1 oft have been afeard, 
 Because I wish'd this world's eternity. — 
 Stanley, I prithee, go, and take me hence ; 
 I care not whither, for I beg no favour, 
 Only convey me where thou art commanded. 
 
 Stan. Why, madam, that is to the isle of Man ; 
 There to be used according to yoiu" state. 
 
 Duch. That s bad enough, lor I am but reproach : 
 And shall I then be used reproachfully? 
 
 Stan. Like to a duchess, and duke Humphrey's lady, 
 According to that state you shall be used. 
 
 Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare ; 
 Although thou hast been conduct of my shame ! 
 
 Sher. It is my office ; and, madam, pardon me. 
 
 Duch. Ay, ay, farewell ; thy office is discharged. 
 Come, Stanley, shall we go 
 
 Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw oif this 
 sheet. 
 
 And go we to attire you for our journey. 
 
 Duch. My shame will not be shifted with my 
 sheet ; 
 
 No, it will liang upon my richest robes, 
 
 And show itself, attire me how I can. 
 
 Go, lead the way ; I long to see my prison. [Exeu7it. 
 
ScEXK 1.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 149 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— The Abbey at Bury. 
 
 Enter to the Parliament, King Henry, Queen Mar- 
 GARET, Cardinal Beaufort, Suffolk, York, 
 Buckingham, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. I muse,^ my lord of Gloster is not come : 
 'T is not his wont to be the hindmost man, 
 Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. 
 
 Q. Mar, Can you not see? or will you not observe 
 The strangeness of his alter'd countenance 'i 
 With wiiat a majesty he bears himself; 
 How insolent of late he is become, 
 How proud, peremptory, and unlike himself? 
 We know the time since he was mild and all'able ; 
 And, if we did but glance a far-otf look, 
 Immediately he was upon his knee, 
 That all the court admir'd him for submission , 
 But meet him now, and, be it in the morn, 
 Wlien every one will give the time of day. 
 He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye, 
 And passeth by with stitf unbowed knee. 
 Disdaining duty that to us belongs. 
 Small curs are not regarded when they grin ; 
 But great men tremble when the lion roars ; 
 And Humphrey is no little man in England. 
 First, note, that he is near you in descent : 
 And should you fall he is the next will mount. 
 Me seemeth then, it is no policy, — 
 Res])ecting what a rancorous mind he bears, 
 . And his advantage following your decease. 
 That he should come about your royal person, 
 
 1 musc~l wonder. 
 VOL. VI. M 
 
150 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act III. 
 
 Or be admitted to your highness' council. 
 
 By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts ; 
 
 And, when he please to make commotion, 
 
 'T is to be fear d they all will follow him. 
 
 Now 't is the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted ; 
 
 Suffer them now, and they '11 o'ergrow the garden, 
 
 And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. 
 
 The reverent care I bear unto my lord 
 
 Made me collect these dangers in the duke. 
 
 If it be fond, call it a woman's fear ; 
 
 Which fear if better reasons can supplant, 
 
 I will subscribe and say — I wrong'd the duke. 
 
 My lord of Sulfolk, — Buckmgham, — and York, — 
 
 Reprove my allegation, if you can ; 
 
 Or else conclude my words effectual. 
 
 Suff. Well hath your highness seen into tliis duke ; 
 And had I first been put to speak my mind, 
 I think I should have told your grace's tale. 
 The duchess, by his subornation, 
 Upon my life, began her devilish practices : 
 Or, if he were not privy to those faults. 
 Yet, by reputing of his high descent, 
 (As next the king he was successive heir,; 
 And such high vaunts of his nobility, 
 Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess, 
 By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. 
 Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ; 
 And in his simple show he harbours treason. 
 The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb. 
 No, no, my sovereign : Gloster is a man 
 Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. 
 
 Car. Did he not, contrary to form of law. 
 Devise strange deaths for small offences done ? 
 
 York. And did he not, in his protectorship, 
 Levy great sums of money through the realm. 
 For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? 
 By means whereof the towns each day revolted. 
 
ScKNi: I.] KING HENRY VL-PART II. 
 
 151 
 
 Buck. Tut I Tliese are petty faults to faults unknown, 
 W^hich time will bring to light in smooth duke Hum- 
 phrey. 
 
 K. Hen. My lords, at once. The care you have of 
 us, 
 
 To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, 
 Is worthy praise : But shall I speak my conscience ? 
 Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent 
 From meaning treason to our royal person, 
 As is the sucking lamb, or ha -mless dove ; 
 The duke is virtuous, mild ; and too well given. 
 To dream on evil, or to work my downfall. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah, what 's more dangerous than this fond 
 affiance ! 
 
 Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd, 
 For he 's disposed as the hateful raven. 
 Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him, 
 For he "s inclin'd as are the ravenous wolves. 
 Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit ? 
 Take heed, my lord ; the welfare of us all 
 Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. 
 
 Enter Somerset. 
 
 Som. All health unto my gracious sovereign .' 
 K. Hen. Welcome, lord Somerset. What news from 
 France ? 
 
 Som. That all your interest in those territories 
 Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost. 
 
 JC. Hen. Cold news, lord Somerset : But God's will 
 be done ! 
 
 York. Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France, 
 As firmly as I hope for fertile England. 
 Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud. 
 And caterpillars eat my leaves away : 
 But I will remedy this gear ere long, 
 Or sell my title for a glorious grave. \_Aslde, 
 
 M 2 
 
152 
 
 K ING HENRY VI.-PART II. [Act III. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. All happiness unto my lord the king ! 
 Pcirdon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long. 
 
 Suf. Nay, Gloster, know tliat thou art come too soon. 
 Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art : 
 I do arrest thee of high treason liere. 
 
 Glo. Well, Suffolk's duke, thou shal< not see me blusli, 
 Nor change my countenance for this arrest ; 
 A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. 
 The purest spring is not so free from mud 
 As I am clear from treason to my sovereign : 
 Who can accuse me '? wherein am I guilty ? 
 
 York. 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of 
 France, 
 
 And, being protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay ; 
 j By means whereof his highness hath lost France. 
 I Glo. Is it but thought so ? What are they that tliink it ? 
 I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay, 
 Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. 
 So help me God, as I have watch' d the night, — 
 Ay, night by night, — in studying good for England ! 
 That doit that e'er I wrested from tlie king. 
 Or any groat I hoarded to my use, 
 Be brought against me at my trial day ! 
 No ! many a pound of mine own proper store, 
 Because I would not tax the needy commons, 
 Have I dispersed to the garrisons, 
 And never ask'd for restitution. 
 
 Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much. 
 
 Glo. I say no more than truth, so hel]) me God ! 
 
 York. In your protectorship, you did devise 
 Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, 
 That England was defam'd by tyranny. 
 
 Glo. Why, 't is well known, that whiles I was protector 
 Pity was all the fault that was in me ; 
 For I should melt at an offender's tears, 
 
ScKNE I.J KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 153 
 
 And lowly words were ransom for their fault. 
 
 Unless it were a bloody murtberer, 
 
 Or foul felonious thief, tliat lieec'd poor passengers, 
 
 I never gave them condign punishment : 
 
 Murther, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur d 
 j Above the felon, or what trespass else, 
 j Siif. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answer'd : 
 I But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, 
 
 Wliereof you cannot easily purge yourself. 
 
 I do arrest you in his highness' name ; 
 
 And here commit you to my lord cardinal 
 
 To keep, until your further time oC trial. 
 
 K. Hen. My lord of Gloster, 't is my special hoi)e, 
 I That you will clear yourself from all suspects ; 
 
 My conscience tells me you are innocent. 
 
 Glo. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous. 
 
 Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition. 
 
 And charity ciias'd hence by rancour's hand ; 
 
 Foul subornation is predominant, 
 
 And equity exil'd your highness' land. 
 
 I know their complot is to have my life ; 
 
 And, if my death might make this island happy, 
 
 And prove the period of their tyranny, 
 
 I would ex})end it with all willingness : 
 ^ But mine is made the prologue to their plajT" ; 
 
 For thousands more, that yet suspect no i)eril, 
 I Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. 
 
 Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, 
 
 And Suflblk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ; 
 
 Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his tongue 
 
 The envious load that lies upon his heart; 
 
 And dogged York, that readies at the moon, 
 
 Wliose overweening arm I have pluck'd back, 
 
 By lalse accuse doth level at my life : 
 j And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, 
 
 Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ; 
 
 And, with your best endeavour, have stirf d up 
 
154 
 
 KING HEMRY VI.-PART II. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 My liefest * liege to be mine enemy : 
 Ay, all of you have laid your heads together. 
 Myself had notice of your conventicles, 
 And all to make away my guiltless life : 
 I shall not want false witness to condemn me, 
 Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt ; 
 The ancient proverb will be well affected, — 
 A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. 
 
 Car. My liege, his railing is intolerable : 
 If those that care to keep your royal person 
 From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage, 
 Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at. 
 And the offender granted scope of speecli, 
 'T will make them cool in zeal unto your grace. 
 
 Sitf. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here. 
 With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd. 
 As if she had suborned some to swear 
 False allegations to overthrow his state ? 
 
 Q. Mar. But I can give the loser leave 1o chide. 
 
 Glo. Far truer spoke than meant : I lose, indeed 
 Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false ! 
 And well such losers may have leave to speak. 
 
 Buck. He '11 wrest the sense, and hold us here all day ; 
 Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner. 
 
 Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure. 
 
 Glo. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch, 
 Before his legs be firm to bear his body : 
 Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side. 
 And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. 
 Ah, that my fear were false ! ah, that it were ! 
 For, good king Henry, thy decay I fear. 
 
 [^Exeunt Attendants, ^oith Glostek. 
 
 K. Hen. My lords, what to your wisdom seemeth best, 
 Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. 
 
 Q. Mar. Wliat, will your highness leave the parlia- 
 ment? 
 
 " Xjtf/t'A'f—ii rarest. 
 
.Scene I.] 
 
 KING IIENllY VI.—PART II. 
 
 135 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drownM with grief, 
 Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ; 
 My body round engirt with misery ; 
 For what 's more miserable than discontent ? 
 Ah, uncle Humphrey ! in thy face I see 
 The map of honour, truth, and loyalty ; 
 And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come. 
 That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith. 
 What low'ring star now envies thy estate, 
 That these great lords, and Margaret our queen. 
 Bo seek subversion of thy liarmless life ? 
 Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong : 
 /nd as the butcher takes away the calf, 
 /nd binds -the wretch, and beats it when it strays, 
 learing it to the bloody slaughter-house ; 
 Even so, remorseless, have they borne liim hence. 
 Aid as the dam runs lowing up and down. 
 Looking the way her harmless young one went. 
 Aid can do nought but wail her darling's loss ; 
 Eren so myself bewails good Gloster's case, 
 Vith sad unhelpful tears ; and with dimm'd eyes 
 took after him, and cannot do him good ; 
 So mighty are his vowed enemies. 
 His fortunes I will weep ; and, 'twixt each groan. 
 Say — " Who 's a traitor, Gloster he is none." [Exit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's 
 hot beams. 
 Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, 
 Too full of foolish pity : and Gloster's show 
 Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile 
 With sorrow snares relenting passengers ; 
 Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank. 
 With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child. 
 That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent. 
 Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I, 
 (And yet, herein I judge mine own wit good,) 
 This Gloster should be quickly rid the world, 
 
156 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act III. 
 
 To rid us from the fear we have of him. 
 
 Car. Tliat he shouhl die is worthy policy : 
 But yet we want a colour for his death : 
 'T is meet he be condemned by coiirse of law. 
 
 Suf. But, in my mind, that were no policy : 
 The king will labour still to save liis lil'e ; 
 The commons haply rise to save his life ; 
 And yet we have but trivial argument, 
 More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. 
 
 York. So that by this you would not have him die. 
 
 Suf, Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I. 
 
 York. 'T is York that hath more reason for liis deatli. 
 But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suflblk,— 
 Say as you think, and speak it from your souls, — 
 W ere 't not all one, an empty eagle were set 
 To guard the chicken Irom a hungry kite. 
 As place duke Humphrey for the king's protector ? 
 
 Q. Mar. So the poor chicken should be sure of death 
 
 Sttf. Madam, 't is true ; and were 't not madneis 
 then, 
 
 To make the fox surveyor of the fold? 
 Who being accus'd a crafty murtherer. 
 His guilt should be but idly posted over, 
 Because his purpose is not executed. 
 No ; let him die, in that he is a fox, 
 By nature })rov'd an enemy to the liock, 
 (Before his chaps be stain'd Avith crimson blood,) 
 As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege. 
 And do not stand on quillets, how to slay him : 
 Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty. 
 Sleeping or waking, *t is no matter liow. 
 So he be dead ; for that is good deceit 
 Whicli mates * him first that first intends deceit. 
 
 Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Sufiblk, 't is resolutely spoke. 
 
 Suf. Not resolute, except so much were done ; 
 For things are often spoke, and seldom meant : 
 ^ Mates — destroys — eo n rounds. 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 157 
 
 But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue, — 
 Seeing the deed is meritorious, 
 And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, — 
 Say but the word, and I will be his priest. 
 
 Car. But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk, 
 Ere you can take due orders for a priest : 
 Say, you consent, and censure well* the deed, 
 And I "11 provide his executioner, 
 I tender so the safety of my liege. 
 
 Stif, Here is my hand, tlie deed is worthy doing. 
 
 Q. Mar, And so say I. 
 
 York. And I : and now we three have spoke it, 
 It skills not greatly who impugns our doom. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, 
 To signify, that rebels there are up, 
 And put the Englishmen unto the sword : 
 Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime. 
 Before the wound do grow incural)le ; 
 For being green there is great hope of help. 
 
 Car. A breach that craves a quick expedient ^ stop f 
 What counsel give you in this weighty cause ? 
 
 York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither ; 
 *T is meet that lucky ruler be employ'd ; 
 Witness the fortune he hath had in France. 
 
 Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy, 
 Had been the regent there instead of me, 
 He never would have stay'd in France so long. 
 
 York. No, not to lose it all as thou hast done : 
 I rather would have lost my life betimes, 
 Than bring a burthen of dishonour home, 
 By staying there so long, till all were lost. 
 Show me one scar character'd on tliy skin : 
 Men's flesh preserved so whole, do seldom win. 
 
 ^ Censure well — approve. Expedient— cxvcd'xiions. 
 
158 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act III. 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging 
 fire, 
 
 If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with : 
 No more, good York ; — sweet Somerset, be still : 
 Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, 
 Might happily have prov'd far worse than his. 
 
 York. What, worse than naught ? nay, then a shame 
 take all ! 
 
 So7n. And in the number, thee, that wish est shame ! 
 
 Car. My lord of York, try what your fortune is. 
 The uncivil Kernes of Ireland are in arms. 
 And temper clay with blood of Englishmen : 
 To Ireland will you lead a band of men. 
 Collected choicely, from each county some. 
 And try your hap against the Irishmen? 
 
 York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty. 
 
 Suf. Why, our authority is his consent ; 
 And what we do establish he confirms : 
 Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. 
 
 York. I am content : Provide me soldiers, lords. 
 Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. 
 
 Suf, A charge, lord York, that I will see performed. 
 But now return we to the false duke Humphrey. 
 
 Car, No more of him ; for I will deal with him. 
 That henceforth he shall trouble us no more. 
 A nd so break off ; the day is almost spent : 
 Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. 
 
 York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days, 
 At Bristol I expect my soldiers ; 
 For there I '11 ship them all for Ireland. 
 
 Suf. I '11 see it truly done, my lord of York. 
 
 [Exeunt all hut York. 
 
 York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts. 
 And change misdoubt to resolution : 
 Be that thou hop'st to be ; or what thou art 
 Resign to death, it is not worth the enjoying : 
 Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man. 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VI.-PART 11. 
 
 159 
 
 And find no harbour in a royal heart. 
 
 Faster than spring-time showers com es thought on thouglit; 
 
 And not a thought but thinks on dignity. 
 
 My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, 
 
 Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies 
 
 Well, nobles, well, 't is politicly done, 
 
 To send me packing with an host of men : 
 
 I fear me you but warm the starved snake, 
 
 Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts, 
 
 'T was men I lack'd, and you v/ill give them me : 
 
 I take it kindly ; yet, be well assured 
 
 You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. 
 
 Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, 
 
 I will stir up in England some black storm 
 
 Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell : 
 
 And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage 
 
 Until the golden circuit on my head. 
 
 Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, 
 
 Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.=^ 
 
 And, for a minister of my intent, 
 
 I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, 
 
 John Cade of Ashford, 
 
 To make commotion, as full well he can, 
 
 Under the title of John Mortimer. 
 
 In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade 
 
 Oppose himself against a troop of Kernes ; 
 
 And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts 
 
 Were almost like a shaip-quill'd porcupine : 
 
 And, in the end being rescued, I have seen 
 
 Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,^ 
 
 Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells. 
 
 Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty Kerne, 
 
 Hath he conversed with the enemy ; 
 
 And undiscovered come to me again. 
 
 Flaw — a sudden gust of wind, 
 b Morisco. This terra probably points at the Moorish origin 
 of ilie morris-dauce. 
 
160 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. fAcr III. 
 
 And given me notice of their villainies. 
 
 This devil here shall be my substitute ; 
 
 For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, 
 
 In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble : 
 
 By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, 
 
 How they atfect the house and claim of York. 
 
 Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured ; 
 
 I know no pain they can inflict upon him 
 
 Will make him say — I mov'd him to those arms. 
 
 Say, that he thrive, (as 't is great like he will,) 
 
 Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength, 
 
 And reap the harvest which that rascal sow\l : 
 
 For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, 
 
 And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE II.— Bury. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter certain Murtherers, hastily. 
 
 1 3Iiir. Run to my lord of Suffolk ; let him know 
 We have despatch'd the duke, as he commanded. 
 
 2 Mtir. O, that it were to do! — What have we 
 
 done? 
 
 Didst ever hear a man so penitent ? 
 
 Enter Suffolk. 
 1 Miir, Here comes my lord. 
 
 Suf. Now, sirs, have you despatch'd this thing ? * 
 
 1 Mur. Ay, my good lord, he *s dead. 
 
 Si(f. Why, tliat *s well said. Go, get you to my 
 
 house ; 
 
 I will reward you for this venturous deed. 
 The king and all tlie peers are here at hand : — 
 Have you laid fair the bed ? are all things well, 
 According as I gave directions ? 
 1 Mur. 'T is, my good lord. 
 
 Snf. Away, be gone ! [^Exeunt Murtherers. 
 
HCESE II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Queen M.vrgaret, C.vrdinal 
 Beaufort, Somerset, Lords, and others. 
 
 K. Hen. Go, call our uncle to our presence straight : 
 
 Say, we intend to try liis grace to-day, 
 
 If he be guilty, as 't is published. 
 
 Suf. I '11 call him presently, my noble lord. [Exit, 
 K. Hen. Lords, take your places : — And, I pray you 
 all 
 
 Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster, 
 Than from true evidence, of good esteem, 
 He be approv'd in practice culpable. 
 
 Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should prevail, 
 Tliat faultless may condemn a nobleman ! 
 Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion ! 
 
 K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret ; these words content 
 me much. — 
 
 Ee-enter Suffolk. 
 
 How now ? ^vhy look'st thou pale ? why tremblest thou ? 
 Where is our uncle ? what 's the matter, Sutlblk ? 
 
 Stif. Dead in his bed, my lord ; Gloster is dead. 
 
 Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend ! 
 
 Ca7\ God's secret judgment : — I did dream to-night 
 The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. 
 
 [ The King swoons, 
 Q. Mar. How fares my lord ? — Help, lords ! the 
 
 king is dead. 
 Som. Rear up his body ; wring him by the nose. 
 Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help ! — O Henry, ope thine 
 eyes ! 
 
 Sttf. He doth revive again : — Madam, be patient. 
 K. Hen. O heavenly God ! 
 Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord ? 
 Siif. Comfort, my sovereign ! gracious Henry, com- 
 fort ! 
 
 K. He?i. What, doth my lord of Sullblk comfort me ? 
 
162 
 
 KING HENRY VI.—PART 11. [Act III. 
 
 Came he right now to sing a raven's note. 
 
 Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ; 
 
 And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, 
 
 By crying comfort from a hollow breast, 
 
 Can chase away the first-conceived sound ? 
 
 Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words. 
 
 Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear, J say ; 
 
 Their touch affrights me as a serpenfs sting. 
 
 Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight ! 
 
 Upon thy eyeballs murtherous tyranny 
 
 Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 
 
 Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding : 
 
 Yet do not go away : — Come, basilisk. 
 
 And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight : 
 
 For in the shade of death I shall find joy ; 
 
 In life but double death, now Gloster 's dead. 
 
 Q. Wlar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus ? 
 
 Although the duke was enemy to him. 
 
 Yet he, most christianlike, laments his death : 
 
 And for myself, foe as he was to me, 
 
 Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, 
 
 Or blood-consuming sighs recall, his life, 
 
 I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, 
 
 Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs. 
 
 And all to have the noble duke alive. 
 
 What know I how the world may deem of me ? 
 
 For it is known we were but hollow friends ; 
 
 It may be judg'd I made the duke away ; 
 
 So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, 
 
 And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach. 
 
 This get I by his death : Ah me, unhappy ! 
 
 To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy ! 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man ! 
 Q. Ma7\ Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. 
 What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face? 
 I am no loathsome leper, look on me. 
 What, art tliou like the adder waxen deaf? 
 
ScEN'E II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 163 
 
 Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen. 
 Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb ? 
 Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy : 
 Erect his statue then, and worship it, 
 And make my image but an alehouse sign. 
 Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea ; 
 And twice by awkward wind from England's bank 
 Drove back again unto my native clime ? 
 What boded this, but well-forewarning wind 
 Did seem to say, — Seek not a scorpion's nest. 
 Nor set no footing on this unkind shore ? 
 What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusfs, 
 And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves ; 
 And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore, 
 Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ? 
 Yet JEolus would not be a murtherer, 
 But left that hateful office unto thee : 
 The pretty vaulting sea refused to drown me ; 
 Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore, 
 With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness : 
 The splitting rocks cow'r'd in the sinking sands. 
 And would not dash me with their ragged sides ; 
 Because thy flinty heart, more hard tlian they, 
 Might in thy palace perish ^ Margaret. 
 As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs. 
 When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, 
 I stood upon the hatches in the storm : 
 And when the dusky sky began to rob 
 My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, 
 I took a costly jewel from my neck, — 
 A heart it was, boimd in with diamonds, — 
 And threw it towards thy land; — the sea receiv'd it; 
 And so I wish'd thy body might my heart : 
 And even with this I lost fair England's view. 
 And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart ; 
 And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles, 
 * Perish ; used actively , as destroi/. 
 
104 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act 111. 
 
 For losing ken of Albion's wislied coast. 
 
 How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue 
 
 (The agent of thy foul inconstancy) 
 
 To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did, 
 
 When he to madding Dido would unfold 
 
 His father's acts, conmienc'd in burning Troy ! 
 
 Am I not witch'd like her? or tliou not false like him? 
 
 Ah me, I can no more ! Die, Margaret ! 
 
 For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. 
 
 Noise loithin. Enter Warwick and Salisbury. 
 
 TJie CoTiunons xiTess to the door. 
 War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, 
 That good duke Humphrey traitorously is murther'd 
 By Suffolk and the cardinal Beaufort's means. 
 The commons, like an angry hive of bees, 
 That want their leader, scatter up and down, 
 And care not who they sting in his revenge. 
 Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny, 
 Until they hear the order of his death. 
 
 K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, "t is too 
 true ; 
 
 But how he died, God knows, not Henry : 
 Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, 
 And comment then uj3on his sudden death. 
 
 War. That shall I do, my liege : — Stay, Salisbury, 
 With the rude multitude, till I return. 
 
 [War. goes into an inner room, and Sal. retires. 
 K. IJe7i. O thou that judgest all things, stay my 
 thoughts ; 
 
 My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul 
 Some violent Iiands were laid on Humphrey's life ! 
 If my suspect be false, forgive me, God ; 
 For judgment only doth belong to thee ! 
 Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips 
 With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain 
 Upon his face an ocean of salt tears ; 
 
SCKN'E II. 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PART II. 
 
 To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, 
 And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling : 
 But all in vain are these mean obsequies ; 
 And to survey his dead and earthy image, 
 What were it but to make my sorrow greater ? 
 
 The folding doors of an inner chamber are ihrotm 
 
 open, and Gloster is discovered dead, in his hed : 
 
 Warwick and others standing by it. 
 
 War, Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this bod v. 
 
 K. Hen. That is, to see how deep my grave is made : 
 For with his soul fled all iny worldly solace : 
 For seeing him, I see my life in death. 
 
 War. As surely as my soul intends to live 
 With that dread King, that took our state upon him 
 To free us from his Father's wrathful curse, 
 I do believe that violent hands were laid 
 Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke. 
 
 Siif A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue ! 
 What instance gives lord Warwick for his vow ? 
 
 War. See, how the blood is settled in his face I 
 Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, 
 Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, 
 Being all descended to the labouring heart :^ 
 Who, in the conflict that it holds with death. 
 Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy ; 
 Wliich with the heart there cools, and ne'er returneth 
 To blush and beautify the cheek again. 
 But see, his face is black, and full of blood ; 
 His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd, 
 Staring full ghastly like, a strangled man : 
 His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling 
 
 ^ Timely-parted ghost. The word gJmt was used somewhat 
 vaguely by the old writers ; it here undoubtedly means a hudy 
 recently parted from the soul. 
 
 b The adjective bloodless, by a licence of construction, includes 
 the substantive— fAe blood '* being all descended," &c. 
 
 VOL. VI. N 
 
166 KING HENRY VL—PAUT II. [Act III. 
 
 His hands abroad displayed, as one that grasp'd 
 And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. 
 Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is sticking ; 
 His well- proportioned beard made rough and rugged, 
 Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. 
 It cannot be but he was murther'd here ; 
 The least of all these signs were probable. 
 
 Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to 
 death? 
 
 Myself and Beaufort had him in protection ; 
 And we, I hope, sir, are no murtherers. 
 
 War. But both of you were vow'd duke Humphrey's 
 foes ; 
 
 And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep : 
 'T is like you would not feast him like a friend ; 
 And 't is well seen he found an enemy. 
 
 Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen 
 As guilty of duke Humphrey's timeless death. 
 
 War. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding fresh, 
 And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, 
 But will suspect 't was he that made the slaughter ? 
 Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, 
 But may imagine how the bird was dead, 
 Although the kite soar with unblooded beak ? 
 Even so suspicious is this tragedy. 
 
 Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk ; where "s voiir 
 knife? 
 
 Is Beaufort term'd a kite ; where are his talons ? 
 
 Suf, I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men ; 
 But here 's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease. 
 That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart 
 That slanders me with murther's crimson badge : 
 Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, 
 That I am faulty in duke Humphrey's death. 
 
 [Exeunt Cardinal, Som., and ethers. 
 
 War. What dares not Warwick, if fiilse Suffolk dare 
 him? 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.— PAllT U. 
 
 167 
 
 Q. Mar. He dares not cairn liis contumelious spirit. 
 Nor cease to l)e an arrogant controller, 
 Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. 
 
 War. Madam, be still, with reverence may I say ; 
 For every word you speak in his behalf 
 Is slander to your royal dignity. 
 
 Stif. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour ! 
 If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, 
 Thy mother took into her blameful bed 
 Some stem untutor'd churl, and noble stock 
 Was graft with crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou art, 
 And never of the Nevils' noble race. 
 
 War. But that the guilt of murther bucklers thee, 
 And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, 
 Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames. 
 And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, 
 I would, false murtherous coward, on thy knee 
 Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech. 
 And say — It was thy mother that thou meant'st, 
 Tliat thou thyself wast born in bastardy : 
 And, after all this fearful homage done. 
 Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to liell, 
 Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men ! 
 
 Suf. Thou shalt be waking while I shed thy blood, 
 If from this presence thou dar'st go with me. 
 
 War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence : 
 Unworthy though thou art, I '11 cope with thee. 
 And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost. 
 
 \_Exeunt Suffolk a^id Warwick. 
 K. Hen. What sti'onger breastplate than a iieart un- 
 tainted ! 
 
 Thrice is he arrn'd that hath his quarrel just ; 
 And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel. 
 Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. 
 
 [A noise vxithin, 
 
 Q. Mar. What noise is this? 
 
 N 2 
 
168 KING HENRY VI.-PAllT il. [Act ill. 
 
 Re-enter Suffolk and W arwiciv, with their weajjons 
 drawn. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, how now, lords ? your wrathful wea- 
 pons drawn 
 
 Here in our presence ? dare you be so bold 1 — 
 Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here ? 
 
 Siif. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of 
 Bury, 
 
 Set all ujxin me, mighty sovereign. 
 
 Noise of a amvd within. Re-enter Salisbury. 
 
 Sal. Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know yoiu- 
 mind. — [SpeaJdng to those tcithin. 
 
 Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, 
 Unless lord Suffolk straight be done to deatli, 
 Or banished fair England's territories. 
 They will by violence tear him from your palace, 
 And torture him with grievous ling'ring death. 
 They say, by him the good duke Humphrey tlied ; 
 They say, in him they fear your highness' death ; 
 And mere instinct of love, and loyalty, — 
 Free from a stubborn opposite intent. 
 As being thought to contradict your liking, — 
 Makes them thus forward in his banishment. 
 They say, in care of your most royal person, 
 Tiiat, if your highness should intend to sleep. 
 And charge that no man should disturb your rest, 
 In pain of your dislike, or pain of death ; 
 Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict. 
 Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue, 
 That slily glided towards your majesty, 
 It were but necessary you were wak'd : 
 Lest, being suller'd in that harmful slumber. 
 The mortal worm miglit make the sleep (jternal : 
 And therefore do they cry, tliougli you Ibrbid, 
 That they will guard you whe'r you will or no, 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 109 
 
 From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ; 
 With whose envenomed and fatal sting, 
 Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, 
 They say, is shamefully bereft of life. 
 
 Commons. \_PVithin.~\ An answer from the king, my 
 lord of Salisbury. 
 
 Suf, 'T is like, the commons, rude unpolishM hinds. 
 Could send such message to their sovereign : 
 But you, my lord, were glad to be employed, 
 To show how quaint an orator you are : 
 But all the honour Salisbury hath won, 
 Is, that he was the lord ambassador. 
 Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king. 
 
 Commons. [ Withiii.'] An answer from the king, or 
 we will all break in. 
 
 K. Hen. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me, 
 I thank them for their tender loving care ; 
 And had I not been 'cited so by them, 
 Yet did I purpose as they do entreat ; 
 For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy 
 Mischance unto my state by Sulfolk's means. 
 And therefore, by His majesty I swear, , 
 Whose far unworthy deputy I am, 
 He shall not breathe infection in this air 
 But three days longer, on the pain of deatli. yExit Sal. 
 
 Q. Mar, O Henry, let me plead for gentle Sulfolk ! 
 
 K. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Sulfolk. 
 No more, I say ; if thou dost plead for him 
 Thouumlt but add increase unto my wrath. 
 Had 1 but said, I would have kept my word ; 
 But when I swear, it is irrevocable : 
 If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found 
 On any ground that I am ruler of, 
 The world shall not be ransom for thy life. 
 Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me; 
 I have great matters to impart to thee. 
 
 [Exeimt K. Hen., Wau., Lords, 
 
170 KING HENRY VI.-PART II. [Act 111. 
 
 Q. Mar. Mischance and sorrow go along with you ! 
 Heart's discontent, and sour affliction, 
 Be playfellows to keep you company ! 
 There 's two of you ; the devil make a third ! 
 And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps ! 
 
 Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, 
 And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. 
 
 Q. Mar. Fie, coward woman, and soft-hearted wretch ! 
 Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies ? 
 
 Suf. A plague upon them ! wherefore should I curse 
 them ? 
 
 Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, 
 I would invent as bitter searching terms. 
 As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, 
 Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, 
 With full as many signs of deadly hate, 
 As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave : 
 My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words ; 
 Mine eyes should sparlvle like the beaten Hint ; 
 My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract ; 
 Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban : 
 And even now my burthen'd heart would break, 
 Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink ! 
 Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste ! 
 Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress-trees ! 
 Their chiefest prospect murthering basilisks ! 
 Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings ! 
 Their music frightful as the serpents' hiss ; 
 And boding screech-owls make the concert full * 
 All the foul terrors in dark -seated hell — 
 
 Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk ; thou torment'st 
 thyself ; 
 
 And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, 
 Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, 
 And turn the force of them upon thyself. 
 
 Suf. You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave ? 
 Now, by tlie ground that I am banish'd from, 
 
Scene ILJ KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 171 
 
 Well could I curse away a winter's night, 
 Though standing naked on a mountain top, 
 Where biting cold would never let grass grov/. 
 And think it but a minute spent in sport. 
 
 Q. Mar. 0, let me entreat thee, cease ! Give me thy 
 hand. 
 
 That I may dew it with my mournful tears ; 
 Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place. 
 To wash away my woeful monuments. 
 O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand, 
 
 \_Kisses his hancL 
 That thou mightst think upon these by the seal. 
 Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee ! 
 So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief ; 
 'T is but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by, 
 As one that surfeits thinking on a want. 
 I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd. 
 Adventure to be banished myself : 
 And banished I am, if but from thee. 
 Go, speak not to me ; even now be gone. — 
 O, go not yet ! — Even thus two friends condeinu'd 
 Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 
 Lother a hundred times to part than die. 
 Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee I 
 
 Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished. 
 Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. 
 'T is not the land I care for, wert thou thence ; 
 A wilderness is populous enough. 
 So Suffolk had thy heavenly company : 
 For where thou art there is the world itself, 
 With every several pleasure in the world ; 
 And where thou art not, desolation. 
 I can no more : — Live thou to joy thy life ; 
 Myself no joy in nought, but that thou liv'bL 
 
 Enter Vaux. 
 
 Q. Mar. Whither goes Vaux so fast ? v/hat nev/s, I 
 prithee ? 
 
172 KING HENRY VI.— PART li. [Act III. 
 
 Vaux. To signify unto his majesty 
 That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death : 
 For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, 
 That makes him ga,sp, and stare, and catch the air, 
 Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. 
 Sometime, he talks as if duke Humphrey's ghost 
 Were by his side ; sometime, he calls the king, 
 And whispers to his pillow, as to him, 
 The secrets of his overcharged soul : 
 And I am sent to tell his majesty 
 That even now he cries aloud for him. 
 
 Q. Mar. Go tell this heavy message to the king. 
 
 [Exit Vaux. 
 Ah me ! what is this world ? what news are these 
 But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, 
 Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure ? 
 Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, 
 And with the southern clouds contend in tears ; 
 Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows ? 
 Now, get thee hence : The king, thou know'st, is cominL^l 
 If thou be found by me thou art but dead. 
 
 Suf. If I depart from thee I cannot live : 
 And in thy sight to die, what were it else. 
 But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap ? 
 Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
 As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe, 
 Dying with mother's dug between its lips : 
 Where,^- from th}'- sight, I should be raging mad, 
 And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes. 
 To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouti) ; 
 So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul, 
 Or I should breathe it so into thy body, 
 And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium. 
 To die by thee v/ere but to die In jest ; 
 From thee to die were torture more than death ; 
 O let me stay, befall what may befall. 
 
 ^ Where — for whereas. Tlu words were convertible 
 
ScK^.'K Ill.j KING HENRY Vi.— PART II. 
 
 173 
 
 Q. Mar. Away ! tliougli pavtin;^ be a Iretfal cursive, 
 It is applied to a deatliful wound. 
 To France, sweet SuO'olk : Let me hear from thee ; 
 For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, 
 1 11 have an Iris that shall find thee out. 
 
 Siif. I go. 
 
 Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee. 
 
 Suf. A jewel, lock'd into the woefull'st cask 
 That ever did contain a thing of worth. 
 Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we ; 
 This way fall I to death. 
 
 Q. Mar. This way for me. \_Ex. severally. 
 
 SCENE III.— London. Cardinal Beaufort's 
 Bedchamber. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Salisbury, Warwick, and 
 others. The Cardinal in bed ; Attendants ivith him. 
 
 K. IIc7i. Hov/ fares my lord ? speak, Beaulort, to 
 
 thy sovereign. 
 Car. If thou best death, I '11 give tliee England's 
 
 treasure. 
 
 Enough to purchase such another island. 
 So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, 
 Where death's approacli is seen so terrible ! 
 
 War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. 
 
 Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
 Died he not in his bed? where should he die? 
 Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no? — 
 
 0 ! torture me no more, I will confess. — 
 Alive again ? then show me where he is ; 
 
 1 '11 give a thousand pound to look upon him. — 
 He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. — 
 Comb down his hair ; look ! look ! it stands upright, 
 Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul ! — 
 
 ^ Corsive — corrosive. 
 
174 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act III. 
 
 Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary 
 Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. 
 
 K. Hen. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, 
 Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! 
 O, beat away the busy meddling fiend 
 That lays strong siege luito this wretch's soul, 
 And from his bosom purge this black despair ! 
 
 War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin. 
 
 Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. 
 
 K. Hen. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be ! 
 Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, 
 Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. — 
 He dies, and makes no sign ; O God, forgive him ! 
 
 War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. 
 
 K, Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. — 
 Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close ; 
 And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt 
 
ScENS I,] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 175 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I.— Kent. The Sea-shore, near Dover. 
 
 Firing heard at sea. Then enter from a boat, a Caj)- 
 tain, a Master, a Masters-Male, Walter Whit- 
 more, and others; toith them Suffolk, and other 
 Gentlemen, prisoners. 
 
 Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and reniorsefal day 
 Is crept into the bosom of the sea ; 
 And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
 Tliat drag the tragic melancholy night ; 
 Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings 
 Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws 
 Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 
 Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize ; 
 For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, 
 Here shall they make their ransom on the sand. 
 Or with their blood stain this discolour"d shore. 
 Master, this prisoner freely give I thee ; — 
 And thou that art his mate, make boot of this ; — 
 The other \^pointing to Suffolk], Walter Whitniore, is 
 thy share. 
 
 1 Gent. What is my ransom, master ? let nie kno^v. 
 Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. 
 Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. 
 Cap. What, think you much to pay two thousand 
 crowns. 
 
 And bear the name and port of gentlemen ? — 
 Cut both the villains' throats, — for die you shall. — 
 The lives of those which we have lost in fight 
 Be counterpoised with such a petty sum ? ^ 
 
 * Upon the hesitation to pay ransom the captain exclaims, 
 '* What^ think you much," &c. He then, parenthetically. 
 
176 KING HENRY VI.— PART 11. [Act IV. 
 
 1 Gent. X Ti give it, sir ; and therefore spare my life. 
 
 2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it straight. 
 Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, 
 
 And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die ; [To Suf. 
 And so should these, if I might have my will. 
 
 Cap. Be not so rash ; take ransom, let him live. 
 
 Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman ; 
 Rate me at what thou wilt thou shalt be paid. 
 
 Whit. And so am I ; my name is Walter Whitmore. 
 How now ? why start'st thou ? what, doth deatii alfright 'I 
 
 Suf. Thy name afi'rights me, in whose sound is death. 
 A cunning man did calculate my birth, 
 And told me that by Water ^ I should die. 
 Yet let not this make thee be bloody minded ; 
 Tliy name is Gualtiej^ being rightly sounded. 
 
 Whit. Gualtier, or Walter, wliich it is I care not ; 
 Never yet did base dishonour blur our name, 
 But with our sword we wip'd away the blot; 
 Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge. 
 Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd, 
 And I proclaimed a coward througli the world ! 
 
 \_Lays hold on Suffolk. 
 
 Suf. Stay, Whitmore ; for thv prisoner is a prince. 
 The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. 
 
 Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags ! 
 
 Sif. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke ; 
 [Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I ?] 
 
 Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. 
 
 Suf. Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry's blood, 
 The honourable blood of Lancaster, 
 
 thteatens death ; and continues his half-interrogative sentence, 
 fVhat, " The lives of those which we have lost iu tight be coun- 
 terpois'd," &c. 
 
 * In the Incantation Scene in Act I. we have this prophecy :— - 
 « What fates await the duke of Sulfolk ? 
 liy water shall he die, and take his end." 
 It appears from this passage that JValter was commonly pro- 
 noun(ted IVater. 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 177 
 
 Must not be shed by such a jaded groom. 
 
 Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my sthrup ? 
 
 Bare-headed plodded by my foot-clotli mule, 
 
 And thought tliee happy when I shook my head ? 
 
 How often hast thou waited at my cup, 
 
 Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board. 
 
 When I have feasted with queen Margaret ? 
 
 Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall *n; 
 
 Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride : 
 
 How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood. 
 
 And duly waited for my coming forth ? 
 
 This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, 
 
 And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. 
 
 Whit. Speak, captain, sliall I stab the forlorn swain ? 
 
 Caj). First let my words stab him, as he hath me. 
 
 Si^. Base slave ! thy words are blunt, and so art thou. 
 
 Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's side 
 Strike off his head. 
 
 Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy own. 
 
 [Cap. Yes, Poole. 
 
 Ay, kennel, puddle, sink ; whose filth and dirt 
 
 Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. 
 
 Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth, 
 
 For swallowing the treasure of the realm ; 
 
 Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground : 
 
 And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Humphrey "s death. 
 
 Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain, 
 
 Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again : 
 
 And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, 
 
 For daring to ally * a mighty lord 
 
 Unto the daughter of a worthless king, 
 
 Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. 
 
 By devilish policy art thou grown great. 
 
 And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd 
 
 8 To ajy~to hetvoth. 
 
178 
 
 KINGJIENRY VI.—PART II. [Act IV. 
 
 With gobbets of tliy mother's bleeding heart. 
 
 By thee Arijou and Maine were sold to France ; 
 
 The false revolting Normans, thorough thee, 
 
 Disdain to call us lord ; and Picardy 
 
 Hath slain their governors, surprised our forts, 
 
 And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. 
 
 The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all, 
 
 Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, 
 
 As hating thee, are rising up in arms : 
 
 And now the house of York, — thrust from the crown, 
 
 By shameful murther of a guiltless king. 
 
 And lofty proud encroaching tyranny, — 
 
 Burns with revenging fire ; whose hopeful colours 
 
 Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine, 
 
 Under the which is writ Invitis nuhibus.^ 
 
 The commons here in Kent are up in arms : 
 
 And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary. 
 
 Is crept into the palace of our king, 
 
 And all by thee : — iVway ! convey him hence. 
 
 Suf. O that I were a god, to shoot forth tliundcr 
 Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges ! 
 Small things make base men proud : this villain here^ 
 Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more 
 Than Bargulus the strong lUyrian pirate. 
 Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives. 
 It is impossible that I should die 
 By such a lowly vassal as thyself. 
 Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me : 
 I go of message from the queen to France ; 
 I charge thee waft me safely cross the channel. 
 
 Caj:). Walter, 
 
 Whit, Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. 
 S^lf. Pene gelidus timor ocmpat artus : — 't is thee 
 I fear. 
 
 °- This is an allusion to the device of Edward III., which was, 
 according to Camden, " the rays of the sun dispersing them- 
 selves out of a cloud." 
 
ScENi; I.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 179 
 
 IVhit Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave 
 thee. 
 
 What, are ye daunted now ? now will ye stoop ? 
 1 Gent, My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair. 
 Suf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, 
 Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. 
 Far be it we should honour such as these 
 With humble suit : no, rather let my head 
 Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any. 
 Save to the God of heaven, and to my king; 
 And sooner dance upon a bloody pole 
 Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. 
 True nobility is exempt from fear :— 
 More can I bear than you dare execute. 
 
 Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. 
 Siif. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ve can. 
 That this my death may never be forgot !— 
 Great men oft die by vile bezonians : ^ 
 A Roman sworder and banditto slave 
 Murther'd sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard liand 
 Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savage islanders, 
 Pompey the great : and Suffolk dies by pirates. 
 
 \_Exit SuF., with Whit, and others. 
 Cap, And as for these whose ransom we have set. 
 It is our pleasure one of them depart ; — 
 Therefore come you with us, and let him go. 
 
 [Exeunt all but the first Gentleman. 
 Re-enter Whitmore, icith Suffolk's body. 
 Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie. 
 Until the queen his mistress bury it. \_Exit. 
 
 1 Gent O barbarous and bloody spectacle ! 
 His body will I bear unto the king : 
 If he revenge it not, yet will his friends ; 
 So will the queen, that living held him dear. 
 
 [Exit, loith the body. 
 ^ -^ezmian was a term of contempt, of somewhat uncertain 
 
180 KilSG ilKiNilY Vl.-PART II. [Act IV. 
 
 SCENE II.—Blackheath. 
 Enter George Bevis and John Holland. 
 
 Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a 
 iath ; they have been up these two days. 
 
 John. They have the more need to sleep now tlien. 
 
 Geo. I tell thee. Jack Cade the clothier means to 
 dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new 
 nap upon it. 
 
 John. So he had need, for 't is threadbare. Well, I 
 say it was never merry world in England since gentle- 
 men came up. 
 
 Geo. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in 
 handicrafts-men. 
 
 John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons. 
 
 Geo. Nay, more, the king's coimcil are no good 
 workmen. 
 
 John. True. And yet it is said, J^abour in thy vo- 
 cation ; which is as much to say as, let the magistrates 
 be labouring men ; and therefore should v/e be magis- 
 trates. 
 
 Geo. Thou hast hit it : for there 's no better sign of a 
 brave mind than a hard hand. 
 
 John. I see them ! I see them ! There 's Best's son, 
 the tanner of Wingham ; — 
 
 Geo. He shall have the skins of our enemies, to make 
 dog's leather of. 
 
 John. And Dick the butcher, — 
 
 Geo. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and 
 iniquity's throat cut like a calf. 
 
 John. And Smith the weaver. 
 
 Geo. Ar(/o, their thread of life is spun. 
 
 Johii. Come, come, let 's fall in with them. 
 
 Drum. Enter Cade, Dick the butcher, Smith the 
 
 weaver, and others in great number. 
 Cade. We John Cade, so termed of our supposed 
 father, — 
 
ScKNE II.] KING HENRY VJ.— ]\UIT 11. 
 
 181 
 
 DicJc. Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.^ 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Cade. — for our enemies shall fall before us, inspired 
 with the spirit of putting down kings and princes, — 
 Command silence. 
 
 Dick. Silence ! 
 
 Cade. My father was a Mortimei,^ — 
 
 Dick. He was an honest man, and a good bricklayer. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Cade. My mother a Plantagenet,^ — 
 
 Dick. I knew her well, she was a midwife. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies, — 
 
 Dick. She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold 
 many laces. [Aside. 
 
 Smith. But, now of late, not able to travel with her 
 furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. 
 
 Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable ; and 
 there was he born, under a hedge ; for his liither had 
 never a house but the cage. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. Valiant I am. 
 
 Smith. 'A must needs ; for beggary is valiant. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. I am able to endure much. 
 
 Dick. No question of that; for I have seen him 
 whipped three market days together. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. 
 
 Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of 
 proof. [Aside. 
 
 Dick. But methinks he should stand in fear of fire, 
 being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. Be brave then ; for your captain is brave, and 
 vows reformation. There shall be, in England, seven 
 halfpenny loaves sold for a penny : the three-hooped pot 
 shall have ten hoops ; and I will make it felony to 
 drink small beer : all the realm shall be in common, 
 
 * A cade of herrings, accordinf? to an old monastic account, 
 is a cask containing somewhat more than half a barrel. 
 
182 KING HENRY VL—PART 11. ;:Act IV. 
 
 and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. And, 
 when I am king, (as king I will be)— — 
 All. God save your majesty ! 
 
 Cade. I thank you, good people : — there shall be no 
 money ; all shall eat and drink on my score ; and I 
 will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree 
 like brothers, and worship me their lord 
 
 Dick. The first thing we do, let 's kill all the law- 
 yers. 
 
 Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a la- 
 mentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb 
 should be made parchment? that parchment, being 
 scribbled o'er, should undo a man ? Some say the bee 
 stings : but I say 't is the bee's wax, for I did but seal 
 once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. 
 How now ? who 's there ? 
 
 Enter some, bringing in the Clerk of Chatham. 
 
 Smith. The clerk of Chatham : he can write and 
 read, and cast accompt. 
 Cade. O monstrous ! 
 
 Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies. 
 Cade. Here 's a villain ! 
 
 Smith. H' as a book in his pocket with red letters in 't. 
 Cade. Nay, then he is a conjurer. 
 Dick. Nay, he can make obligations, and write 
 court-hand. 
 
 Cade. I am sorry for 't : the man is a proper man, 
 of mine honour; unless I find him guilty he shall not 
 die. — Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee : What 
 is thy name? 
 
 Cleo'k. Emmanuel. 
 
 Dick. They use to write it on the top of letters ; — 
 'T will go hard with you. 
 
 Cade. Let me alone : — Dost thou use to write thy 
 name? or hast thou a mark to thyself^ like an honest 
 plain-dealing man ? 
 
Scene II.] KING HE.NRY VI.— PART II. 183 
 
 Clerk. Sir, I thank God I have been so well brought 
 up that I can write my name. 
 
 All. He hath confessed : away with him ; he 'a a 
 villain and a traitor. 
 
 Cade. Away with him, I say : hang him with his 
 pen and inkhom about his neck. 
 
 [Exeunt some tvith the Clerk, 
 
 Enter Michael. 
 
 Mich. Where 's our general ? * 
 
 Cade, Here I am, thou particular fellow. 
 
 Mich. Fly, fly, fly ! sir Humphrey Stafford and his 
 brother are hard by, with the king's forces. 
 
 Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I '11 fell thee down : 
 He shall be encountered with a man as good as him- 
 self : He is but a knight, is 'a ? 
 
 Mich. No. 
 
 Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a knight 
 presently : Rise up sir John Mortimer. Now have at 
 him. 
 
 Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford, and William his 
 brother, with dricm and Forces. 
 
 Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, 
 Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down, 
 Home to your cottages, forsake this groom ; 
 The king is merciful, if you revolt. 
 
 fV. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood, 
 If you go forward : Therefore yield, or die. 
 
 Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not ; 
 It is to you, good people, that I speak, 
 Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign ; 
 For I am rightful heir unto the crown. 
 
 Staf, Villain, thy father was a plasterer ; 
 And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not ? 
 
 Cade. And Adam was a gardener. 
 
 PV. Staf And what of that? 
 
 o 2 
 
184 
 
 Cacle. Marry, this : — Edmund Mortimer, earl of 
 March, 
 
 Married the duke of Clarence' daughter : — Did he not? 
 Staf. Ay, sir. 
 
 Cade. By her lie had two children at one birth. 
 W. Staf. That 's false. 
 
 Cade. Ay, there 's the question ; but, I say, 'tis true : 
 The elder of them, being put to nurse. 
 Was by a beggar-woman stolen away ; 
 And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, 
 Became a bricklayer when he came to age : 
 His son am I ; deny it if you can. 
 
 Dick. Nay, 't is too true ; therefore lie shall be king. 
 
 Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, 
 and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it ; there- 
 fore, deny it not. 
 
 Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's words, 
 That speaks he knows not what ? 
 
 All. Ay, marry, will we ; therefore get ye gone. 
 
 W, Staf. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath taught 
 you this. 
 
 Cade. He lies, for I invented it myself. \ Aside. 
 —Go to, sirrah : Tell the king from me, that, for his 
 father's sake, Henry the fifth, in whose time boys went 
 to span-counter for French crowns, I am content he shall 
 reign ; but I '11 be protector over him. 
 
 Dick. And, furthermore, we '11 have the lord Say's 
 head, for selling the dukedom of Maine. 
 
 Cade. And good reason, for thereby is England 
 maimed, and fain to go with a staff, but that my puis- 
 sance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you, that that 
 lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth, and made it 
 an eunuch : and more than that, he can speak French, 
 and therefore he is a traitor. 
 
 Staf. O gross and miserable ignorance ! 
 
 Cade. Nay, answer, if you can : The Frenchmen are 
 our enemies : go to then. I ask but this, — can he that 
 
ScEKE III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART ll. 185 
 
 speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good coun- 
 sellor, or no? 
 
 All. No, no ; and therefore we '11 have his head. 
 
 fV. Staf, Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, 
 Assail them with the army of the king. 
 
 Staf. Herald, away : and, throughout every town, 
 Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ; 
 That those which fly before the battle ends 
 May, even in their wives' and children's sight. 
 Be hang'd up for example at their doors : 
 And you that be the king's friends follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt the two Staffords, a7id Forces. 
 
 Cade. And yoTi that love the commons follow me. 
 Now show yourselves men, 't is for liberty. 
 We will not leave one lord, one gentleman : 
 Spare none, but such as go in clouted shoon ; 
 For they are thrifty honest men, and such 
 As would (but that they dare not) take our parts. 
 
 Dick. They are all in order, and march toward us. 
 
 Cade. But then are we in order, when v/e are most 
 out of order. Come, march forward. \_Exeunf. 
 
 SCENE III.— Another' paH of Blackheath. 
 
 Aluriim. The tivo parties enter and fight, and both 
 the Staffords are slain. 
 
 Cade. Where 's Dick the butcher of Ashford ? 
 Dick. Here, sir. 
 
 Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and 
 thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own 
 slaughter-house: therefore thus will I reward thee, — 
 The Lent shall be as long again as it is ; and thou shalt 
 have a licence to kill for a hundred lacking one. 
 
 Dick. I desire no more. 
 
 Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest no less. 
 This monument of the vict<n-y will I bear; and the 
 
186 KING HENRY VI.~PART II. [Act IV. 
 
 bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels, till I do 
 come to London, where we will have the mayor's sword 
 borne before us. 
 
 Dich. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open 
 the gaols, and let out the prisoners. 
 
 Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let 's 
 march towards London. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE IV. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Kino Henry, reading a supplication; the 
 Duke of Buckingham, and Lord Say, with him : 
 at a distance, Queen Margaret, mourning over 
 Suffolk's head, 
 
 Q. Mar. Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind, 
 And makes it fearful and degenerate ; 
 Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep. 
 But who can cease to weep, and look on this ? 
 Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast : 
 But where 's the body that I should embrace ? 
 
 Buck. What answer makes your grace to the rebels' 
 supplication ? 
 
 K. Hen. 1 '11 send some holy bishop to entreat : 
 For God forbid, so many simple souls 
 Should perish by the sword ! And I myself, 
 Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, 
 Will parley with Jack Cade their general. 
 But stay, I '11 read it over once again. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains ! hath this lovely face 
 Rul'd, like a wandering planet, over me : 
 And could it not enforce them to relent, 
 That were unworthy to behold the same ? 
 
 K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade has sworn to have thy 
 head. 
 
 Say. Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his. 
 K. Hen. How now, madam ? 
 Still lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's deatn ? 
 
Scene IV.] KiNG HENRY VI.— PART il. lS-7 
 
 I fear me, love, if that I had been dead, 
 Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me. 
 Q. Mar. No, my love, I should not mourn, but die 
 for thee. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 K. Hen. How now ! what news ? why com'st thou in 
 such haste? 
 
 Mess, The rebels are in Southwark. ^ Fly, my lord ! 
 Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer, 
 Descended from the duke of Clarence' house ; 
 And calls your grace usurper, openly. 
 And vows to crown himself in Westminster. 
 His army is a ragged multitude 
 Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless : 
 Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death 
 Hath given them heart and courage to proceed ; 
 All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, 
 They call false caterpillars, and intend their death. 
 
 K. Hen. O graceless men ! they know not what they do. 
 
 Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Killing worth,*'^ 
 Until a power be rais'd to put them down. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah ! Avere the duke of Suffolk now alive, 
 These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd. 
 
 K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee, 
 Therefore away with us to Killingworth. 
 
 Say. So might your grace's person be in danger : 
 The sight of me is odious in their eyes ; 
 And therefore in this city will I stay, 
 And live alone as secret as I may. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 2 Mess. Jack Cade hatli gotten London-bridge ; 
 The citizens fly and forsake their houses ; 
 Tlie rascal people, thirsting after prey, 
 
 a Killingworth. This is the old orthography of Kenilworth, 
 and is still the local pron\inciatioii. 
 
188 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act IV. 
 
 Join with the traitor ; and they jointly swear 
 To spoil the city and your royal court. 
 
 BtLck. Tiien linger nof^ my lord ; away, take horse. 
 
 K, Hen. Come, Margaret 5 God, our hope, will suc- 
 cour us. 
 
 Q. Mar. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceas'd 
 K. Hen. Farewell, my lord ; [^0 Lord Say] trust 
 
 not the Kentish rebels. 
 Buck. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray 'd. 
 Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, 
 And therefore am I bold and resolute. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Y.—The same. The Tower. 
 
 Enter Lord Scales, and others, on the loalls. Then 
 enter certain Citizens, heloio. 
 
 Scales. How now ? is Jack Cade slain ? 
 
 1 at. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they 
 have won the bridge, killing all those that withstand 
 them : The lord mayor craves aid of your honour from 
 the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels. 
 
 Scales. Such aid as I can spare you shall command ; 
 But I am troubled here with them myself: 
 The rebels have essay 'd to win the Tower. 
 But get you to Smitbfield, and gather head, 
 And thither I will send you Matthew Gough : 
 Fight for your king, your country, and your lives ; 
 And so farewell, for I must hence again. [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE VI. — The same. Cannon-street. 
 
 Enter Jack Cade, a7id his Folloicers. He strikes his 
 staff on London-stone. 
 
 Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, 
 sitting upon London-stone, I charge and command, 
 tliat, of the city's cost, the pissmg-conduit run nothing 
 but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now, 
 
ScENK Vll.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 189 
 
 henceforward, it shall be treason for any that calls nie 
 other than lord Mortimer. 
 
 Enter a Soldier, running. 
 
 Sold. Jack Cade ! Jack Cade ! 
 
 Cade. Knock him down there. [ They kill him. 
 
 Smith. If this fellow be wise, he 11 never call you 
 Jack Cade more : I think he hatli a very fair warning. 
 
 Dick. My lord, there 's an army gathered together in 
 Smithfield. 
 
 Cade. Come then, let go fight with them : But, 
 first, go and set London-bridge on fire ; and, if you 
 can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let "s away. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VII.— TAe same. Smithfield. 
 
 Alarum. Enter, on one side, Cade and his company ; 
 on the other, Citizens, and the King's Forces, 
 headed hy Matthew Gougii. They fight; the 
 Citizens are routed, and Matthew Gough is slain. 
 
 Cade. So, sirs : — Now go some and pull down the 
 Savoy ; others to the inns of court ; down with them 
 all. 
 
 Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship. 
 Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that 
 word. 
 
 Dick. Only, that tlie laws of England may come out 
 of your mouth. 
 
 John. Mass, 't will be sore law then ; for he was 
 thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 't is not whole 
 yet. [Aside. 
 
 Smith. Nay, John, it will be stinking law ; for his 
 breath stinks with eating toasted cheese. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. I have thought upon it, it shall be so. Away, 
 bum all the records of the realm ; my mouth shall he 
 the parliament of England. 
 
190 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PART II. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 John. Then we are like to have biting statutes, un- 
 less his teeth be pulled out. [Aside. 
 
 Cade. And henceforward all things shall be in com- 
 mon. 
 
 E7iter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize ! here 's the lord Say, 
 which sold the towns in France ; he that made us pay 
 one-and- twenty fifteens, and one shilling to the pound, 
 the last subsidy. 
 
 Enter George Bevis, with the Lord Say. 
 
 Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. — 
 Ah, thou say, thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord ! now 
 art thou within point blank of our jurisdiction regal. 
 What canst thou answer to my majesty, for giving up 
 of Normandy unto monsieur Basimecu, the dauphin of 
 France ? Be it known unto thee, by these presence, 
 even the presence of lord Mortimer, that I am the besom 
 that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou 
 art. Thou hast most t.aitorously cormpted the youth 
 of the realm, in erecting a grammar-school : and whereas, 
 before, our forefathers had no other books but the score 
 and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used ; and, 
 contrary to the king, his crov/n and dignity, thou hast 
 built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face, that 
 thou hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun, 
 and a verb ; and such abominable words as no Christian 
 ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices 
 of peace, to call poor men before them about matters 
 they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put 
 them in prison ; and because they could not read thou 
 hast hanged them ; when, indeed, only for that cause 
 they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on 
 a foot-cloth, dost thou not'^ 
 
 Say. What of that? 
 
 Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy hors? wear 
 
Scene VII.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 191 
 
 a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose 
 and doublets. 
 
 Dick. And work in their shirt too ; as myself, for 
 example, that am a butcher. 
 
 Say. You men of Kent, — 
 
 Dick. What say you of Kent ? 
 
 Say. Nothing but this : 'T is bona terra, mala gens. 
 
 Cade. Aw&y with him, away with him ! he speaks 
 Latin. 
 
 Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. 
 Kent, in the commentaries Caesar writ, 
 Is term'd the civill'st place of all this isle : 
 Sweet is the country, because full of riches ; 
 The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy ; 
 Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. 
 I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy ; 
 Yet, to recover them, would lose my life. 
 Justice with favour have I always done ; 
 Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. 
 When have I aught exacted at 3^our hands ? 
 Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you. 
 Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks. 
 Because my book preferred me to the king, 
 And seeing ignorance is the curse of God, 
 Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven. 
 Unless you be possessed with devilish spirits. 
 You cannot but forbear to murther me. 
 This tongue hath parleyed unto foreign kings 
 For your behoof, — 
 
 Cade. Tut ! when struck'st thou one blow in the field ? 
 
 Say, Great men have reaching hands : oft have I 
 struck 
 
 Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. 
 
 Geo. O monstrous coward! what, to come behind 
 folks? 
 
 Say. These cheeks are pale for watching''' for your 
 good. 
 
 * For toatddnij — in consf^fiuence of watchins:- 
 
192 
 
 KING HENRY VL— PART II. [Act IV. 
 
 Cade. G ive him a box o' the ear, and that will make 
 'em red again. 
 
 Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes 
 Ilath made me full of sickness and diseases. 
 
 Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and the 
 pap of hatchet. 
 
 Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man ? 
 
 Say. The palsy, and not fear, provoketh me. 
 
 Cade. Nay, he nods at us ; as who should say, I '11 
 be even with you. I '11 see if his head will stand 
 steadier on a pole, or no : Take him away, and behead 
 him. 
 
 Say. Tell me, wherein have I offended most ? 
 Have I affected wealth, or honour ; speak ? 
 Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold ? 
 Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? 
 Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death ? 
 These hands are free from guiltless blood-shedding, 
 This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. 
 O, let me live ! 
 
 Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words : but 
 I '11 bridle it ; he shall die, an it be but for pleading so 
 well for his life. Away with him I he has a familiar 
 under his tongue ; he speaks not o' God's name. Go, take 
 him away, I say, and strike off his head presently ; and 
 then break into his son-in-law's house, sir James Cromer, 
 and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two 
 poles hither. 
 
 All. It shall be done. 
 
 Say. Ah, countrymen ! if wlien you make your 
 
 prayers, 
 
 God should be so obdurate as yourselves. 
 How would it fare witli your departed souls ? 
 And therefore yet relent, and save my life. 
 
 Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye. 
 \^Exewit some, vnth Lord Sat.] Tlie proudest peer 
 ia tlie realm ?;hall not we;u- a head on his shoulders, un- 
 
ScKNZ VIII.] KING HENRY VI.-PART II. 
 
 193 
 
 less he pay me tribute ; there shall not a maid be mar- 
 ried, but she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they 
 have it : Men shall hold of me in capite ; and we charge 
 and command that their wives be as free as heart can 
 wish, or tongue can tell. 
 
 Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and 
 take up commodities upon our bills ? ^ 
 
 Cade. Marry, presentlv. 
 
 All. O brave ! 
 
 Re-enter Rebels, loith the heads of Loud Say a7id his 
 Son-in-laiv. 
 
 Cade. But is not this braver ? — Let them kiss one 
 another, for they loved well when they were alive. Now 
 part them again, lest they consult about the giving up 
 of some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil 
 of the city until night : for with these borne before us, 
 instead of maces, will we ride through the streets ; and, 
 at every corner, have them kiss. — Away ! [Exeimt. 
 
 SCENE VIII.— Southwark. 
 Alarum. Enter Cade, and all his Babblement. 
 
 Cade. Up Fish-street! down St. Magnus' corner! 
 kill and knock down! throw them into Thames! — [_A 
 parley sounded, then a retreat.'] What noise is this I 
 hear i Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley, 
 when I command them kill ? 
 
 Enter Buckingham and Old Clifford, loith Forces. 
 
 Buck, Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb 
 thee : 
 
 Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king 
 
 Upon our hills. This is an equivoque. The hills of Cade 
 were not hills ofdeht{a.s bonds for the payment of money, exe- 
 cuted in the simplest form, were anciently called^, but the 
 brown hills of the rabble soldiery. 
 
194 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 [Act IV, 
 
 Unto the commons, whom thou hast misled ; 
 And here pronounce free pardon to them all 
 That will forsake thee, and go home in peace. 
 
 Clif, What say ye, countrymen ? will ye relent. 
 And yield to mercy, whilst 't is offer 'd you ; 
 Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths ? 
 Who loves the king, and will embrace his pardon, 
 Fling up his cap, and say — God save his majesty ! 
 Who hateth him, and honours not his father, 
 Henry the fifth, that made all France to quake. 
 Shake he his weapon at us. and pass by. 
 
 All. God save the king ! God save the king ! 
 
 Cade. What, Buckingham, and Clifford, are ye so 
 brave ? — And you, base peasants, do ye believe him ? 
 will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your 
 necks ? Hath my sword therefore broke through Lon- 
 don gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart 
 in Southwark ? I thought ye would never have given 
 out these arms, till you had recovered your ancient 
 freedom : but you are all recreants and dastards ; and 
 delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them 
 break your backs with burthens, take your houses over 
 your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before 
 your faces : For me, — I will make shift for one ; and 
 so — God's curse light upon you all ! 
 
 All. We 11 follow Cade, we '11 follow Cade. 
 
 Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the fifth, 
 That thus you do exclaim you '11 go with him ? 
 Will he conduct you through the heart of France, 
 And make the meanest of you earls and dukes ? 
 Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to ; 
 Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil. 
 Unless by robbing of your friends, and us. 
 Were 't not a shame that whilst you live at jar, 
 The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, 
 Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you? 
 Methinks, already, in this civil broil, 
 
«CENE IX.] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 1D5 
 
 I see them lording it in London streets, 
 Crying — Villageois ! unto all they meet. 
 Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry, 
 Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. 
 To France, to France, and get what you have lost ; 
 Spare England, for it is your native coast : 
 Henry hath money, you are strong and manly ; 
 God on our side, doubt not of victory. 
 
 All. A Clifford ! a Clifford ! we 11 follow the king, 
 and Clifford. 
 
 Cade. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro 
 as this multitude ? The name of Henry the fifth hales 
 them to a hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me 
 desolate. I see them lay their heads together to sur- 
 prise me : my sword make way for me, for here is no 
 staying. — In despite of the devils and hell, have through 
 the very middest of you ! and heavens and honour be 
 witness, that no want of resolution in me, but only my 
 followers' base and ignominious treasons, makes me 
 betake me to my heels. [^Exit. 
 
 Buck. What, is he fled? go some, and follow him ; 
 And he that brings his head unto the king 
 Shall have a thousand crowns for his rev/ard. — 
 
 [Exeu7it some of them. 
 Follow me, soldiers ; we 11 devise a mean 
 To reconcile you all unto the king. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IX.— Killingworth Castle. 
 
 Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and Somer- 
 set, on the terrace of the Castle. 
 
 K. Hen, Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne, 
 And could command no more content than I % 
 No sooner was I crept out of my cradle. 
 But I was made a king, at nine months old : 
 Was never subject long'd to be a king, 
 As I do long and wish to be a subject. 
 
196 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART 11. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Enter Buckingham and Clifford. 
 
 Buck. Health and glad tidings to your majesty ! 
 K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade sur- 
 pris'd ? 
 
 Or is he but retir'd to make him strong ? 
 
 Enter, beloto, a great nwnher of Cade's Followers^ with 
 halters about their necks. 
 
 Clif. He 's fled, my lord, and all his powers do 
 yield ; 
 
 And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, 
 Expect your highness' doom, of life or death. 
 
 K. Hen. Then, Heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates. 
 To entertain my vows of thanks and praise ! — 
 Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives. 
 And show'd how well you love your prince and country : 
 Continue still in this so good a mind. 
 And Henry, though he be infortunate. 
 Assure yourselves, will never be unkind ; 
 And so, with thanks, and pardon to you all, 
 I do dismiss you to your several countries. 
 
 All. God save the king ! God save the king ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess, Please it your grace to be advertised. 
 The duke of York is newly come from Ireland : 
 And with a puissant and a mighty power, 
 Of Gallowglasses and stout Kernes, 
 Is marching hitherward in proud array ; 
 And still proclaimeth, as he comes along. 
 His arms are only to remove from thee 
 The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. 
 
 K, Hen. Thus stands my state,'twixt Cade and York 
 distressed ; 
 
 L'ke to a ship, that having scap'd a tempest, 
 
 Is straightway calm'd and boarded with a pirate : 
 
Sckn'eX.] king henry VI.— part II. 19V 
 
 But now* is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd ; 
 And nov7 is York in arms to second him. 
 I pray thee, Buckingham, go fortli and meet him ; 
 And ask him, what 's the reason of these arms. 
 Tell him, I '11 send duke Edmund to the Tower ; 
 And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither. 
 Until his army be dismissed from him. 
 
 Som. My lord, 
 I *11 yield myself to prison willingly, 
 Or unto death, to do my country good. 
 
 K. Hen. In any case, be not too rough in terms ; 
 For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language. 
 
 Buck. I will, my lord ; and doubt not so to deal 
 As all things shall redound unto your good. 
 
 K. Hen. Come, wife, let 's in, and learn to govern 
 better ; 
 
 For yet may England curse my wretched reign. 
 
 \^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE X.— Kent. Iden s Garden. 
 Enter' Cai>e. 
 
 Cade. Fie on ambition ! fie on myself, that have a 
 sword, and yet am ready to famish ! These five days 
 have I hid me in these woods ; and durst not peep out, 
 for all the country is lay'd for me. But now am I so 
 hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a 
 thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on 
 a brick -wall have I climbed into this garden ; to see if 
 I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another while, which is 
 not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. 
 And I think this word sallet was born to do me good : 
 for, many a time, but for a sallet ^ my brain-pan had 
 been cleft with a brown bill; and, many a time, when 
 
 ^ But now — just now. 
 ^ Sallet, or sallaU — a helmet. 
 VOL. VI. P 
 
1S8 
 
 KING HENRY VI.- PART 11. [Act IV. 
 
 I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath served 
 me instead of a quart-pot to drink in : And how the 
 word sallet ^ must serve me to feed on. 
 
 Enter Id en, with Servants. 
 
 Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court- 
 And may enjoy such quiet walks as these ? 
 This small inheritance my father left me 
 Contenteth me, and 's worth a monarchy. 
 I seek not to wax great by others' waning ; 
 Or gather wealth I care not witii what envy , 
 Sufiiceth that I have maintains my state, 
 And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. 
 
 Cade. Here 's the lord of the soil come to seize me 
 for a stray, for entering his fee simple without leave. 
 Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand 
 crowns of the king by carrying my head to him ; mit 
 I '11 make the heat iron like an ostrich, and sv/allow nij 
 sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part. 
 
 Ideoi. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, 
 I know thee not ; Why then should 1 betray thee ? 
 Is 't not enough to break into my garden. 
 And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, 
 Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, 
 But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms ? 
 
 Cade. Brave thee ? ay, by the best blood that ever 
 was broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well : 
 I have eat no meat these five days : yet, come tliou ajtd 
 thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a 
 door-nail, I pray God I may never eat grass more. 
 
 Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England 
 stands, 
 
 That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, 
 Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. 
 Oppose thy steadfast gazing eyes on mine, 
 ^ Sallct, or salad — a lierb which is eaten saXied—salada , 
 
i9d 
 
 Scene X.] KING HENRY VI.—PAIIT JI. 
 
 See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. 
 Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser: 
 Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ; 
 Thy leg a stick, compared with this truhcheoh : 
 My foot shall fight with all the strength thou bast' 
 And if mine arm be heaved in the air, ' 
 Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. 
 As for words, whose greatness answers words. 
 Let this my sword report what speech forbears 
 
 Cade. By my valour, the most complete champion 
 that ever I heard.-Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut 
 not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef e^e 
 thou sleep m thy sheath, I beseech Jove on my knees 
 taou mayest be turned to hobnails. [They fight. Cade 
 ^aUs.\ O, I am slain! famine, and no other, hath 
 slam me : let ten thousand devils come against me 
 and give me but the ten meals 1 have lost, and I 'd 
 defy them all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a 
 burymg-place to all that do dwell in tliis house be- 
 cause the unconquered soul of Cade is fled 
 
 Men. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous 
 traitor ? 
 
 Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, 
 Aid hang thee o'er my tomb, wlien I am dead : 
 Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from tiiy point • 
 But thou shalt wear it as a herald s coat, ' 
 To emblaze the honour that thy master got 
 
 Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy victory : 
 lell Kent from me she hath lost her best man, and ex- 
 hort all the world to be cowards; for I, that never 
 teared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. 
 
 Men, How much thou wrong'st me, Heaven bf my 
 judge. ^ 
 Die damned wretch, the curse of her that bare tluee ' 
 And as I tiirust tliy body in with my sword, 
 
 p 2 
 
20O KING HENRY VI. -PART II. [Act IV. 
 
 So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. 
 Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels 
 Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, 
 And there cut off thy most ungracious head ; 
 Which I will bear in triumph to the king, 
 Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon. 
 
 [Exitf dragging out the body. 
 
ScEXE 1.] KING HENRY VI.— PART IL 
 
 201 
 
 ACT V, 
 
 SCENE I. — The same. Fields between Dartford and 
 Blackheath. 
 
 The King's Camp on one side. On the other, enter 
 York attended, loith drum and colours : his Forces 
 at some distance. 
 
 York. From Ireland thus comes York, to claim his 
 right, 
 
 And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head : 
 
 Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright; 
 
 To entertain great England's lawful king. 
 
 Ah, sancta majestas ! who would not buy thee dear % 
 
 Let them obey that know not how to rule ; 
 
 This hand was made to handle nought but gold : 
 
 I cannot give due action to my words, 
 
 Except a sword or sceptre balance it. 
 
 A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul, 
 
 On which I '11 toss the fleur-de-luce of France. 
 
 Enter Buckingham. 
 
 Whom have we here ? Buckingham, to disturb me ? 
 The king hath sent him, sure : I must dissemble. 
 
 Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well. 
 
 York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy 
 greeting. 
 
 Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure ? 
 
 Buck. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, 
 To know the reason of these arms in peace ; 
 Or why thou, being a subject as I am. 
 Against thy oath and true allegiance sworo, 
 
202 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act V. 
 
 Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave, 
 Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. 
 
 York. Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. 
 O, I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint, 
 I am so angry at these abject terms ; 
 And how, like Ajax Telamonius, 
 On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury ! 
 I am far better born than is the king ; 
 More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts : 
 But I must make fair weather yet a wliile. 
 Till Henry be more weak, and I more strong. — 
 
 [^All the 2yreceding is spoken aside. 
 Buckingham, I prithee pardon me, 
 That I have given no answer all this while ; 
 My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. 
 The cause why I have brought this army hither, 
 Is, to remove proud Somerset from the king. 
 Seditious to his grace, and to the state. 
 
 Buclc. That is loo much presumption on thy part: 
 But if thy arms be to no other end. 
 The king hath yielded unto thy demand ; 
 The duke of Somerset is in the Tower. 
 
 York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner? 
 
 Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. 
 
 York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers. 
 Soldiers, I thank you all ; disperse yourselves ; 
 Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field. 
 You shall have pq,y, and everything you wish. 
 And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, 
 Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons. 
 As pledges of my fealty and love, 
 I '11 send them all as willing as I live ; 
 Lands, goods, horse, armour, anything 1 have 
 Is his to use, so Somerset may die. 
 
 Buck. York, I commend this kind submission • 
 We twain will go into his highness' tent. 
 
Scene I.j KING HENRY VL— PART 11. 203 
 
 E7iier King Henry, attended. 
 
 K. Hen. Buckingham, dotli York intend no harm 
 to us. 
 
 That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm ? 
 
 York. In all submission and humility, 
 York doth present himself unto your highness. 
 
 K. Hen. Then what intend these forces thou dost 
 bring? 
 
 York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence ; 
 And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade, 
 Who since I heard to be discomfited. 
 
 Enter I den, icith Cade's head. 
 
 Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean condition, 
 May pass into the presence of a king, 
 Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head, 
 The head of Cade, whom I in combat slevv. 
 
 K. Hen. The head of Cade ?— Great God, how just 
 art thou ! — 
 O, let me view his visage being dead, 
 That living wrought me such exceeding trouble 
 Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him ? 
 
 Iden. I was, an 't like your majesty. 
 
 K. Hen. How art thou call'd V and what is thy de- 
 gree ? 
 
 Iden. Alexander Iden, that 's my name 5 
 A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. 
 
 Buck. So please it you, my lord, 't were not amiss 
 He were created knight for his good service. 
 
 K. Hen. Iden, kneel down : \_He kneels.'] Rise up a 
 knight. 
 
 We give thee for reward a thousand marks ; 
 And will that thou henceforth attend on us. 
 
 Ide7i. May Iden live to merit such a bounty, 
 And never live but true unto his liege ! 
 
204 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act V. 
 
 K. Hen. See, Buckingham ! Somerset comes with 
 the queen ; 
 
 Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset. 
 
 Q. Mar. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his 
 head, 
 
 But boldly stand, and front him to his face. 
 
 York. How now ! Is Somerset at liberty ? 
 Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd tlioughts, 
 And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. 
 Shall l endure the sight of Somerset? — 
 False king ! why hast thou broken faith with me, 
 Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse ? 
 King did 1 call thee ? no, thou art not king ; 
 Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, 
 Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. 
 That head of thine doth not become a crown ; 
 Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's statf, 
 And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. 
 That gold must round engirt these brows of mine ; 
 Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, 
 Is able with the change to kill and cure. 
 Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up. 
 And with the same to act controlling laws. 
 Give place ; by Heaven, thou shalt rule no more 
 O'er him whom Heaven created for thy ruler. 
 
 Som. O monstrous traitor ! — I arrest thee, York, 
 Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown : 
 Obey, audacious traitor ; kneel for grace. 
 
 York. Wouldst liave me kneel ? first let me ask of 
 these,'"^ 
 
 If they (;an brook I bow a knee to man. 
 
 Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail ; [_Ex, an Attend. 
 
 * H(; probably points to liis sons, who are waiting without ; 
 or, it may be, to his troops. 
 
ScjiNEl.] KING HENRY VI.-PART li, 
 
 20j 
 
 I know, ere they will have me go to ward, 
 
 They '11 pawn tlicir swords for my enfranchisement. 
 
 Q. Mar. Call hither Clilford; bid him come amain, 
 [Exit Buckingham. 
 To say, if that the bastard boys of York 
 Sliall be the surety for their traitor father. 
 
 York. O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, 
 Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge ! 
 The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, 
 Shall be their father's bail ; and bane to those 
 That for my surety will refuse the boys. 
 
 Enter Edward and Richard Plantagenet, tcith 
 Forces^ at one side ; at the other , loith Forces also, 
 Old Clifford, and his Son. 
 
 See, where they come ; I '11 warrant they '11 make it 
 good. 
 
 Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny tlieir bail. 
 Clif. Health and all happiness to my lord the king ! 
 
 [Kneels. 
 
 York. I thank thee, Clifford : Sav, what news with 
 thee? 
 
 Nay, do not fright us with an angry look : 
 We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again ; 
 For thy mistaking so we pardon thee. 
 
 Clif. This is my king, York, I do not mistake ; 
 But thou mistak'st me much to think I do : — 
 To Bedlam with him ! is the man grown mad ? 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, Clifford; a bedlam and ambitious hu- 
 mour 
 
 Makes him oppose himself against his king. 
 
 Clif. He is a traitor ; let him to the Tower, 
 And chop away that factious pate of his. 
 
 Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey ; 
 His sons, lie says, shall give their words for him. 
 
 York. Will you not, sons ? 
 
 Edio. Av, noble father, if our words will serve. 
 
206 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act V. 
 
 Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons shall. 
 
 Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here ! 
 
 York, Look in a glass, and call thy image so ; 
 I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. 
 Call hither to tlie stake my two brave bears,^ 
 That, with the very shaking of their chains, 
 They may astonish these fell lurking curs ; 
 Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. 
 
 Drums. Enter Warwick and Salisbury, with 
 Forces. 
 
 Clif, Are these thy bears ? we '11 bait thy bears to 
 death. 
 
 And manacle the bearward in their chains, 
 If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place. 
 
 Rich. Oft have I seen a hot overweening cur 
 Run back and bite, because he was withheUl ; 
 Who, being sufter'd with the bear's fell paw, 
 Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cried : 
 And such a piece of service will you do, 
 If you oppose yourselves to match lord Warwick. 
 
 Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, 
 As crooked in thy manners as thy shape ! 
 
 Yoi'k. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. 
 
 Clif Take heed, lest by your lieat you burn your- 
 selves. 
 
 K. He7i, Why, W arwick, hath thy knee forgot to bov/ 1 
 Old Salisbury, — shame to thy silver hair, 
 Thou mad misleadcr of thy brainsick son ! — 
 What, wilt thou on tliy death-bed play the rufiian, 
 And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ? 
 O, where is faith O, where is loyalty ? 
 If it be banish'd from the frosty head. 
 Where shall it lind a harbour in the earth ? — 
 Wilt thou go dig a grave to tind out war. 
 And shame thine lionourable age with Mood? 
 * The hear and ragged staj/' was the cogni/.ance of the Nevile. 
 
ScKNE L] KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 207 
 
 Why art tliou old and want'st experience ? 
 Or wherefore dost abuse it if thou hast it? 
 For shame ! in duty bend thy knee to me, 
 That bows unto tlie grave with mickle age. 
 
 Sal. My lord, I have considered with myself 
 The title of this most renowned duke ; 
 And in my conscience do repute his grace 
 The rightful heir to England's royal seat. 
 
 K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me ? 
 
 Sal. I have. 
 
 K. Hen. Canst thou dispense with Heaven for such 
 an oath ? 
 
 Sal. It is great sin, to swear unto a sin ; 
 But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath. 
 Who can be bound by any solemn vow 
 To do a murtherous deed, to rob a man, 
 To force a spotless virgin's chastity. 
 To reave the orphan of his patrimony. 
 To wring the widow from her custom'd right ; 
 And have no other reason for this wrong 
 But that he was bound by a solemn oath ? 
 
 Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister. 
 
 K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself 
 
 Yo7^k. Call Buckingham, and all the ftiends thou hast, 
 I am resolv'd for death, or dignity. 
 
 Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. 
 
 War. You were best to go to bed, and dream again, 
 To keep thee from the tempest of the field. 
 
 Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm 
 Than any thou canst conjure up to-day ; 
 And that I '11 write upon thy burgonet. 
 Might I but know thee by thy household badge. 
 
 War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest, 
 The rampant bear, chain'd to the ragged staff, 
 This day I '11 wear aloft my burgonet, 
 (As on a mountain-top the cedar shows, 
 That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,) 
 
208 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. [Act V. 
 
 Even to affright thee with the view thereof. 
 
 Clif. And from thy burgonet I '11 rend thy bear, 
 And tread it under foot with all contempt, 
 Despite the bearward that protects the bear. 
 
 Clif. And so to arms, victorious father, 
 To quell the rebels, and their 'complices. 
 
 Rich. Fie ! charity, for shame ! speak not in spite, 
 For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. 
 
 F. Clif. Foul stigmatic,^ that 's more than thou canst 
 tell. 
 
 Rich. If not in heaven, you '11 surely sup in hell. 
 
 [Exeunt severally, 
 
 SCENE Il.—Saint Alban s. 
 
 Alarims: Excursions. Enter Warwick. 
 
 War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls ! 
 And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, 
 Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum, 
 And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,. 
 Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me I 
 Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, 
 Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. 
 
 Enter York. 
 
 How now, my noble lord ? what^ all a-foot ? 
 
 York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed ; 
 But match to match I have encounter'd him, 
 And made a prey for carrion kites and crows 
 Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well. 
 
 Enter Clif^oru. 
 
 War. Of one or both of us the time is come. 
 
 Sttgmatic. This was the appollation of an offender wlio had 
 been branded — upon whom a stigma liad been set. Young 
 Clifford insults Richard with the natural stigma of liis de- 
 formity. 
 
SciiNiill.J KING HENili VI.— PAIiT II. ^>.y 
 
 York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase, 
 For I myself must hunt this deer to death. 
 
 IVar. Then, nobly, York ; 't is for a crown thou 
 fight'st. 
 
 As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, 
 It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. [Exit. 
 Clif. What seest thou in me, York ? why dost thou 
 pause ? 
 
 York. With thy brave bearing should I be in love, 
 But that thou art so fast mine enemy. 
 
 Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, 
 But that 't is shown ignobly, and in treason. 
 
 York. So let it help me now against thy sword, 
 As I in justice and true right express it ! 
 
 Clif> My soul and body on the action both! — 
 
 York. A dreadful lay ! — address thee instantly. 
 
 [They figlit^ and Clifford y«/^5. 
 
 Clif. La fin couronne les ceuvres. [Dies. 
 
 York. Tlius war hath given thee peace, for thou art 
 still. 
 
 Peace with his soul, Heaven, if it be thy will. [Exit. 
 Enter Young Clifford. 
 
 Y. Clif. Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout ; 
 Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds 
 Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell. 
 Whom angry Heavens do make their minister, 
 Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part 
 Hot coals of vengeance ! — Let no soldier tly : 
 He that is truly dedicate to war 
 Hath no self-love ; nor lie that loves himself 
 Hath not essentially, but by circumstance. 
 The name of valour. — O, let the vile world end, 
 
 [Seeing his dead father. 
 And the premised flames of the last day 
 Knit earth and heaven together ! 
 Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, 
 
810 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAllT 11. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Particularities and petty sounds 
 
 To cease !^ Wast thou ordain'd, dear fatlier, 
 
 To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve 
 
 The silver livery of advised age, 
 
 And in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus 
 
 To die in ruffian battle ? — Even at this sight, 
 
 My heart is turn'd to stone : and, while 't is mine, 
 
 It shall be stony. York not our old men spares ; 
 
 No more will I their babes : tears virginal 
 
 Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ; 
 
 And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims. 
 
 Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. 
 
 Henceforth I will not have to do with pity . 
 
 Meet I an infant of the house of York, 
 
 Into as many gobbets will I cut it, 
 
 As wild Medea young Absyrtus did : 
 
 In cruelty will I seek out my fame. 
 
 Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford s house ; 
 
 \_TaIdng up the body. 
 
 As did j^lneas old Anchises bear, 
 
 So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders ; 
 
 But then ^neas bare a living load. 
 
 Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. \^Exit. 
 
 Enter Richard Plantagenet and Somerset, fight- 
 ing, and Somerset is killed. 
 
 Rich, So, lie thou there ; — 
 For, underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, 
 The Castle in Saint Alban's, Somerset 
 Hath made the wizard famous in his death.^ 
 Sword, hold thy temper : heart, be wrathful still : 
 Priests pray for enemies, but jorinces kill. [Exit* 
 
 To cease — actively — to stop. 
 ^ See the prediction in Act I. — 
 
 Let him shun castles." 
 
Scene IIL] KING HENRY VI.—PART II. 
 
 211 
 
 Alamcms : Excursions. Enter King Henry, Queen 
 Margaret, and others, retreating. 
 
 Q. Mar. Away, my lord ! you are slow ; for shame, 
 away ! 
 
 K. Hen. Can we outrun the heavens? good Mar- 
 garet, stay. 
 
 Q. Mar. What are you made of ? you 11 not fignt, 
 nor fly : 
 
 Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence. 
 To give the enemy way ; and to secure us 
 By what we can, which can no more but fly. 
 
 \_Alarum afar off 
 If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom 
 Of all our fortunes : but if we haply scape, 
 (As well we may, if not through your neglect,) 
 We shall to London get, where you are lov'd ; 
 And where this breach, now in our fortunes made, 
 May readily be stoppM. 
 
 E7iter Young Clifford. 
 
 Y. Clif. But that my heart 's on future mischief set, 
 I wouL.. jpeak blasphemy ere bid you fly ; 
 But fly you must ; uncurable discomflt 
 Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.^ 
 Away, for your relief ! and we will live 
 To see tlieir day, and them our fortune give . 
 Away, my lord, away ! [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Fields near Saint Alban's. 
 
 Alarum : Retreat. Flourish ; then enter York, 
 Richard Plantagenet, Warvfick, and Soldiers. 
 with drum and colours. 
 
 YorJc. Of Salisbury, who can report of him ? — 
 That winter lion, who in rage forgets 
 Aged contusions and all brush of time ; 
 
 ^ Parts— parties— party. 
 
2\2 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART II. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, 
 Repairs him with occasion ? This happy day 
 Is not itself*, nor have we won one foot, 
 If Salisbury be lost. 
 
 Rich. My noble father, 
 
 Three times to-day 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 in a homely house, 
 So was his will in his old feeble body. 
 But, noble as he is, look where he comes. 
 
 Enter Salisbury. 
 
 Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to • 
 day ; 
 
 By tlie mass, so did we all. — I thank 5^ou, Ricliard : 
 God knows how long it is I have to live ; 
 And it hath pleased him that three times to-day 
 You have defended me from imminent death. 
 Well, lords, we have not got tliat wliich we have : 
 'T is 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 of parliament. 
 Let us pursue him, ere the writs go Ibrth : 
 What says lord W arwick shall we after them ? 
 
 War. After them! nay, before tliom, if we can. 
 Now, by my hand, lords, 't was a glorious day : 
 Saint Albans battle, won by famous York, 
 Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come. 
 Sound, drum and trum])ets : — and to London all : 
 And more such days as these to us befall ! [^Exeunt. 
 
 END OF KIMG IIKNRY VI. — PART U. 
 
KING HENRY VI. 
 
 PART lU, 
 
215 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 This drama appears in the original folio collection 
 under the title of ' The Third Part of Henry the Sixt, 
 with the Death of the Duke of Yorke.' In 1595 was 
 published ' The True Tragedie of Richard Duke of 
 Yorke, and the Death of good King Henry the Sixt, 
 with the whole Contention between the tv/o Houses 
 Lancaster and Yorke, as it was sundrie times acted hy 
 the Right Honourable the Earle of Pembrooke his Ser- 
 vants.' Upon this drama is founded ^ The Third Part 
 of Henry VI.,' in the form in which we have received 
 it as Shakspere's. We believe, as in the case of the 
 two previous dramas, and of the * Richard III.,' which is 
 a continuation of the History, that to Shakspere belongs 
 the original authorship. The schemes of York are suc- 
 cessful, and he is at length in arms ; but he still dis- 
 sembles. 
 
 Shakspere has given us every light and shadovf of the 
 partisanship of chivalry in his delineation of the various 
 characters in these two wonderful dramas of the Second 
 and Third Parts of ' Henry VI.' Apart and isolated 
 from all active agency in the quarrel stands out the re- 
 markable creation of Henry. The poet, with liis in- 
 stinctive judgment, has given the king a much higher 
 character than- the chroniclers assign to hirn. Their re- 
 lations leave little doubt upon our minds that his im- 
 
 VOL. VI. Q 2 
 
216 INTilODUCTOia REMARKS. 
 
 becility was very nearly allied to utter incapacity ; and 
 that the thin partition between weakness and idiocy was 
 sometimes wholly removed. But Shakspere has never 
 painted Henry under this aspect : he has shov/n us a 
 king with virtues unsuited to the age in which he lived ; 
 with talents unfitted for the station in which he moved ; 
 contemplative amidst friends and foes hurried along by 
 a distempered energy ; peaceful under circumstances 
 that could have no issue but in appeals to arms ; just 
 in thought, but powerless to assert even his own sense of 
 right amidst the contests of injustice which hemmed 
 him in. The entire conception of the character of 
 Henry, in connexion with the circumstances to which it 
 was subjected, is to be found in the Parliament-scene 
 of ' The Third Part of Henry VI/ This scene is copied 
 from the ^ Contention,' with scarcely the addition or 
 alteration of a word. We may boldly affirm that none 
 but Shakspere could have depicted with such marvellous 
 truth tlie weakness, based upon a hatred of strife — the 
 vacillation, not of imbecile cunning, but of clear-sighted 
 candour — the assertion of power through the influence 
 of habit, but of a power trembling even at its own autho- 
 rity — the glimmerings of courage utterly extinguished 
 by the threats of " armed men," and proposing compro- 
 mise even worse than war. It was weakness such as 
 this which inevitably raised up the fiery partisans tliat 
 the poet has so wonderfully depicted ; the bloody Cllf- 
 ibrd — the " she -wolf of France" — the dissembling York 
 — the haughty Warwick — tlie voluptuous Edward — 
 and, last and most terrible of all, he that best explains 
 his own character, " I am myself alone." 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. m 
 
 One by one the partisans that are thus marshalled 
 by the poet in the Parliament-scene of London are 
 swept away by the steady progress of that justice which 
 rides over their violence and their subtlety. The hollow 
 truce is broken. Margaret is ready to assail York in 
 his castle ; York is prepared for the field, having learned 
 from the precocious sophist Richard how an " oath is 
 of no moment." Now are let loose all the " dogs of 
 war." The savage Clifford strikes down the innocent 
 Rutland ; the more savage Margaret dips her napkin 
 in his blood. York perishes under the prolonged retri- 
 bution that awaited the ambition that dallied with 
 murder and rebellion. Clifford, to whom nothing is 
 so odious as " harmful pity," falls in the field of Towton, 
 where the son was arrayed against the fatlier, and the 
 father against the son ; and the king, more " woe- 
 begone*' than the unwilling victims of ambition, mo- 
 ralises upon the " happy life" of the " homely swain." 
 The great actors of the tragedy are changed. Edward 
 and Richard have become the leaders of the Yorkists, 
 with Warwick, " the king-maker," to rest upon. Henry 
 has fled to Scotland ; Margaret to France. Then is 
 unfolded another leaf of that Sibylline book. Edward 
 is on the throne, careless of everything but self-gratifi- 
 cation; despising his supporters, offending even his 
 brothers. Warwick takes arms against him ; Clarence 
 deserts to Warwick ; Richard alone remains faithful, 
 sneering at his brother, and laughing in the conceal- 
 ment of his own motives for fidelity. Edward is a 
 fugitive, and finally a captive ; but Richard redeems 
 him, and Clarence again cleaves to him. The second 
 
21S 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 revolution is accomplished. The " king-maker" yields 
 his " body to the earth" in the field of Bamet ; Mar- 
 garet and her son become captives in the plains near 
 Tewksbury. Then comes the terrible hour to the un- 
 happy queen — that hour which she foresaw not when 
 she gave the " bloody napkin" to the wretched York — 
 that hour whose intensity of suffering reached its climax 
 of expression in " You have no children." But Richard 
 b fled, 
 
 " To make a bloody supper in the Tower." 
 
219 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Henry VI. 
 appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. 2; sc. 5. Act III. sc. 1. 
 Act IV, sc. 6 ; sc. 8. Act V. sc. G. 
 
 Edward Prince of Wales, son to Henry VI. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. 2 ; sc. 5. Act III. sc. 3. 
 Act V. sc. 4 ; sc. 5. 
 
 Lewis XI., King of France, 
 Appears^ Act III. sc. 3. 
 
 Duke of Somerset, on King Henry's side. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 6. Act V. sc. 1 ; 
 sc. 2 ; sc. 4 ; sc. 5. 
 
 Duke of Exeter, on King Henry's side. 
 Appears^ Act I. sc. 1. Act II. sc. 5. Act IV. sc. 8. 
 
 Earl of Oxford, on King Henry's side. 
 Appears^ Act III. sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 6 ; sc. 8. 
 Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2; sc. 4; sc. 5. 
 
 Earl of Northumberland, on King Henry's side. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 4. Act II. sc. 2. 
 
 Earl of Westmoreland, on King Henry's side. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1. 
 
 Lord Clifford, on King Henry's side. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4. Act II. sc. 2 ; sc. 4 ; sc. 
 
 Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 5 sc. 2 ; sc. 4. 
 
220 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Edward, Earl of March, aftcrioards King 
 Edward IV., son to the Duke of York. 
 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. .3 ; sc. 6. 
 Act III. sc. 2. Act IV. sc. i; sc. 3; sc. 5; sc. 7. Act V. 
 sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4 ; sc. 5 ; sc. 7. 
 
 Edmund, Earl of Rutland, son to the Duke of York. 
 AppearSy Act I. sc. 3. 
 
 George, aftenoards Duke of Clarence, so7i to the 
 Duke of York. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 6. Act III. sc. 2. Act IV. 
 sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 6 ; sc. 8. Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4 ; 
 sc. 5 ; sc. 7. 
 
 RiCKARD, afterwards Duke of Gloster, son to the 
 Duke of York. 
 
 Appeals, Acr I. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4 ; 
 sc. 6. Act III. sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 1 : sc. 0; sc. 7. Act V. 
 sc. 1 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4 ; sc. 5 ; se. 6 ; sc. 7. 
 
 Duke of Norfolk, of the Duke of York's party. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1, Act II. sc. 2. 
 
 Marquis of Montague, of the Duke of York's partij. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 6. 
 Act IV. sc. 1 ; sc. G ; sc. 8. Act V. sc. 1. 
 
 Earl of Warwick, of the Duke of York's ^ar^y. 
 Appears, A.cil. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. G. Act III. 
 
 sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 6 ; sc. 8. Act V. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. 
 
 Earl of Pembroke, of the Duke of York's imrty. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 Lord Hastings, of the Duke of York's party. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 1 ; sc. 5 ; sc. 7. Act V. sc. 7. 
 
 Lord Stafford, of the Duke York" s party. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. I. 
 
PERSONS REPRESENTED. 221 
 
 Sir John Mortimer, uncle to the Duke of York. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 2. 
 
 Sir Hugh Mortimer, uncle to the Duke of Yoik , 
 Appears^ Act I. sc. 2. 
 
 Henry, Earl of Richmond, a youth. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 6. 
 
 Lord Rivers, brother to Lady Grey. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 4. 
 
 Sir William Stanley. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 5. 
 
 Sir John Montgomery. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 7. 
 
 Sir John Somerville. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 1. 
 
 Tutor to Rutland. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. 
 
 Mayor of York. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 7 
 
 Lieutenant of the Tower. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 6. 
 
 A Nobleman. 
 Appears f Act III. sc. 2. 
 
 Two Keepers. 
 Appear, Act III. sc. I. 
 
 A Huntsman. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 5. 
 
 A Son that has killed his Fathei, 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 5. 
 
222 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 A Father that has killed his Son. 
 Appears f Act II. sc. 5. 
 
 Queen Margaret. 
 AppcarSj Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 4. Act II. sc. 2 ; sc. 5. Act III. sc. 3. 
 Act V. sc. 4 ; sc. 5. 
 
 Lady Grey, afterwards Queen to Edward IV. 
 Appears, Act III. sc, 2. Act IV. sc. 1 ; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 7. 
 
 Bona, sister to the French Queen. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 3. 
 
 SoldierSy and other Attendants oji King Henry and 
 King Edward, Messengers, Watchmen^ ^c, 
 
 SCENE, DURING PART OF THE ThIRD AcT, IN 
 
 France; during all the rest of the Flay, 
 IN England. 
 
223 
 
 KING HENRY VL, 
 
 PART III. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 SCENE I.— London. The Parliament-House. 
 
 Drums. Some Soldiers of York's Party break in. 
 Then enter the Duke of York, Edward, Richard, 
 Norfolk, Montague, Warwick, and others, loith 
 lohite roses in their hats. 
 
 War. I wonder how the king escap'd our hands. 
 
 York. While we pursued the horsemen of the north, 
 He slily stole away, and left his men : 
 Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, 
 Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat. 
 Cheer 'd up the drooping army ; and himself, 
 Lord Clifford, and lord Stafford, all abreast, 
 Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in, 
 Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. 
 
 Edio. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buckingham, 
 Is either slain or wounded dangerous : 
 I cleft his beaver with a downright blow ; 
 That this is true, father, behold his blood. 
 
 \_Shotvi7ig his bloody stvord. 
 
 Mont. And, brother, here 's the earl of Wiltshire's 
 blood, [^To York, showioig his. 
 
 Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd. 
 
 Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. 
 [^Throwing doicn the Duke of Somerset's head. 
 
m KING HENRY VI.— PART 111. [Act I. 
 
 York. Richard hath best deserv'd of all my sons. — 
 But, is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset? 
 
 Norf. Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt ! 
 
 Rich. Thus do I hope to shake king Henry's head. 
 
 War. And so do 1, victorious prince of York. 
 Before I see thee seated in 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 Henry's heirs'. 
 
 York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will ; 
 For hither we have broken in by force. 
 
 Norf. We '11 all assist you ; lie that flies shall die. 
 
 York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk, — Stay by me, my 
 lords ; — 
 
 And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night. 
 
 War. And when the king comes olfer him no vio- 
 lence. 
 
 Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. [They retire. 
 Yo7'k. The queen, tliis day, here holds her parlia- 
 ment, 
 
 But little thinks we shall be of her council : 
 By words, or blows, here let us win our right. 
 
 Rich. Arm'd as we are, let 's stay within this house. 
 
 War. The bloody parliament shall this be call'tl, 
 Unless Plantagenet, duke of York, be king ; 
 And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice 
 Hath made us by-words to our enemies. 
 
 York. Then leave me not, my lords ; be resolute ; 
 I mean to take possession of my right. 
 
 War. Neither the king, nor lie tliat loves him best. 
 The proudest he that liolds up Lancaster, 
 Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells. 
 1 '11 plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares : — 
 Resolve thee. Riclisj-d; claim the English crown. 
 
 [Wau. leads York to the throne, who seats himself 
 
ScKN£ l.J KING HENRY VL— FART 111. '22b 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, North- 
 umberland, Westmoreland, Exeter, and others^ 
 xoith red roses in their hats. 
 
 K. Hen. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, 
 Even in the chair of state ! belike, he means 
 (Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer) 
 To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king. 
 Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father ; 
 And thine. Lord Clifford ; and you botli have vow'd 
 revenge 
 
 On liim, his sons, his favourites, and his friends. 
 North. If I be not. Heavens be reverig'd on me ! 
 Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. 
 West. What, shall we suffer this ? let 's pluck him 
 down : 
 
 My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it. 
 
 K. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland. 
 
 Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and such as he ; 
 He durst not sit there had your father liv'd. 
 My gracious lord, here in the parliament 
 Let us assail the family of York. 
 
 North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin ; be it so. 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, know you not the city favours them, 
 And they have troops of soldiers at their beck ? 
 
 Exe. But when the duke is slain tliey '11 quickly ily. 
 
 K. Hen. Far be the thought of this from Henry's 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, descend my throne, 
 And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet ; 
 I am thy sovereign. 
 
 York. I am thine. 
 
 Exe. For shame, come down : he made thee duke of 
 York. 
 
226 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act I. 
 
 York. It was my inheritance, as the earldom was. 
 Exe. Thy father was a traitor to the crown. 
 War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown, 
 In following this usurping Henry. 
 
 Clif. Whom should he follow but his natural king ? 
 War. True, Clifford ; and that 's Richard, duke of 
 York. 
 
 K. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne ? 
 
 York. It must and shall be so. Content thyself. 
 
 War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. 
 
 West. He is both king and duke of Lancaster ; 
 And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. 
 
 War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget 
 That we are those which chas'd you from the field. 
 And slew your fathers, and with colours spread 
 March'd through the city to the palace gates. 
 
 North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief ; 
 And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. 
 
 West. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, 
 Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I '11 have more lives 
 Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. 
 
 Clif. Urge it no more : lest that, instead of words, 
 I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger 
 As shall revenge his death before I stir. 
 
 War. Poor Clifford! how I scorn his worthless 
 threats ! 
 
 York. Will you, we show our title to the crown ? 
 If not, our swords shall plead it in the field, 
 
 K. Hen. 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 French to stoop, 
 And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces. 
 
 War. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. 
 
 K. Hen. The lord protector lost it, and not I ; 
 When I was crown'd I was but nine months old. 
 
SCEKS I.J 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PARTJIl. 
 
 227 
 
 Hich. You are old enough now, and yet methinks 
 you lose : — 
 Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. 
 Edw. Sweet father, do so ; set it on your head. 
 Mont. Good brother [to York], as thou lov'st and 
 honourest arms, 
 Let 's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. 
 
 Rich. Soimd drums and trumpets, and the king will 
 
 fly. 
 
 York. Sons, peace ! 
 
 K. Hen. Peace thou ! and give king Henry leave to 
 speak. 
 
 Wo.r. Plantagenet shall speak first :— hear him, lords; 
 And be you silent and attentive too. 
 For he that interrupts him shall not live. 
 
 K. Hen. Think'st 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 heart's great sorrow — 
 Shall be my winding-sheet. — Why faint you, lords ? 
 My title 's good, and better far than his. 
 
 War. Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. 
 
 K. He7i. Henry the fourth by conquest got the crown. 
 
 York. 'T was by rebellion against his king. 
 
 K. Hen. I know not what to say ; my title 's weak. 
 Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir ? 
 
 York. What then? 
 
 K. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful king : 
 For Richard, in the view of many lords, 
 Resign'd 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. 
 
 War. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstraln'd, 
 Tliink you 't were prejudicial to his crown 
 
228 KING HENRY VI.— PAiiT 111. [Aci I. 
 
 Exe. No ; for he could not so resign liis crown, 
 But that the next heir should succeed and reign. 
 
 K. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter? 
 
 Exe. His is the right, and th.eiefore pardon me. 
 
 York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not 9 
 
 Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful king. 
 
 K. Hen. All will revolt from me, and turn to him. 
 
 North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, 
 Think not that Henry shall be so depos'd. 
 
 War. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all. 
 
 Nm-th. Thou art deceived : 't is not thy southern 
 power, 
 
 Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,— 
 Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,— 
 Can set the duke up, in despite of me. 
 
 CUf. 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 ! 
 
 K. Hen. O Clilibrd, how thy words revive my heart ! 
 
 York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown : 
 What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords ? 
 
 War. 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, and the Soldiers shoio themselves. 
 
 K. Hen. My lord of Warwick, hear me 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 liv'st. 
 
 K. Hen. I am content : Richard Plantagenet, 
 Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. 
 
 CUf. What wrong is this unto the prince your son ! 
 
 War. What good is this to England, and himself! 
 
 West. Base, tearful, and despairing Henry ! 
 
BcKXE i.] KING HENRY VI.—PART III. '^zi> 
 
 CUf, How hast thou injurVl both thyself and us ! 
 West. I cannot stay to hear these articles. 
 North. Nor I. 
 
 Clif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these news. 
 
 West. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, 
 In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides. 
 
 North. Be thou a prey unto the house of York, 
 And die in bands for this unmanly deed ! 
 
 Clif. In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome ! 
 Or live in jxjace, abandoned, and despis'd ! 
 
 \^Exeu7it North., Clif., a7id Weht. 
 
 War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them n(it. 
 
 Exe. They seek revenge, and therefore will not yield. 
 
 K. Hen. Ah, Exeter ! 
 
 War, Why should you sigh, my lord? 
 
 K. Hen. Not for myself, lord Warwick, but my son, 
 Wliom I unnaturally shall disinherit. 
 But, be it as it may : — I nere entail 
 The crown to thee, and to tliine heirs for ever ; 
 Conditionally, that here thou take an oatli 
 To cease this civil war, and, wliilst I live, 
 To honour me as thy king and sovereign ; 
 And neither by treason, nor hostility, 
 To seek to put me down, and reign tliyself. 
 
 York. This oath I willingly take, and will perform, 
 [^Coming from the throne. 
 
 War. Long live king Henry ! — Plantagenet, embrace 
 him. 
 
 K. Hen. And long live thou, and these thy forward 
 sons ! 
 
 York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. 
 Exe. iVccurs'd be he that seeks to make them foes ! 
 
 \^enet. The Lords come forward. 
 York. Farewell, my gracious lord ; I '11 to mv 
 castle. 
 
 War. And I '11 keep London, with my soldiers. 
 Norf. And I to Norfolk, with my followers. 
 
 VOL. VI. R 
 
230 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act L 
 
 Mont. And I unto the sea, from whence I came. 
 
 [Exeunt York mid his Sons, War., Norf., 
 Montague, Soldiers, and Attendants. 
 K. Hen, And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret and the Prince of Wales. 
 
 Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray ^ her 
 anger : 
 1 11 steal away. 
 
 K. Hen, Exeter, so will I, [Going. 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee. 
 
 K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. 
 
 Q. Mar. 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 prov'd so unnatural a father 
 Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ? 
 Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I ; 
 Or felt that pain which I 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 tliine heir, 
 And disinherited thine only son. 
 
 Prince. Father, you caimot disinherit me : 
 If you be king, why should not I succeed ? 
 
 K. Hen. Pardon me, Margaret ; pardon me, sweet 
 son ; 
 
 The earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me. 
 
 Q. Mar. Enforc'd thee ! art thou king, and wilt bo 
 forc'd ? 
 
 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 slialt reign but by their sufl'erance. 
 To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, 
 What is it, but to make thy sepulchre, 
 Bewray — discover. 
 
Scene L] KING HENHY VI.— PART III. 231 
 
 And creep into it far before tliy time? 
 Warwick is chancellor, and the lord of Calais ; 
 Stern Faulconbridge 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, which am a silly woman, 
 The soldiers should have toss'd me on their })ikes, 
 Before I would have granted to that act. 
 But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honoiu- : 
 And, seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself, 
 Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed. 
 Until that act of parliament be repeal'd. 
 Whereby my son is disinherited. 
 The northern 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 1 leave thee : — Come, son, let 's away ; 
 Our army is ready ; come, we '11 after them. 
 
 K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. 
 
 Q. Mar, Thou hast spoke too much already; get 
 thee gone. 
 
 K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay witli 
 me? 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, to be murther'd by his enemies. 
 
 Prince. When I return with victory from the field 
 I '11 see your grace : till then, I '11 follow her. 
 
 Q. Mar. Come, son, . away ; we may not linger thus. 
 [Exeunt Queen Margaret and the Prince. 
 
 K. Hen. Poor queen I 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 : 
 
 R 2 
 
'^o-^ ivhNti liLISilY VI.-rAKT 111. [Aui I. 
 
 I '11 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 Boom in Sandal Castle, near Wake- 
 field, in Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter Edward, Richard, and Montague. 
 
 Rich. Brotiier, tliough 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, sons and brother, at a strife "? 
 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. 
 
 Yo7'k. 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. 
 
 Yo7'k. I took an oath that he should quietly reign. 
 
 Edto. But for a kingdom any oath may be broken : 
 I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year. 
 
 Rich. No ; God forbid your grace should be Ibrsworn. 
 
 York. I shall be if I claim by open war. 
 
 Rich. I '11 prove the contrary, if you "11 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 't was lie that made you to depose, 
 Your oatli, my lord, is vain and frivolous. 
 
;<CEKK ll.j KING HENR\ v'L -PART III. 
 
 233 
 
 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 dyed 
 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 tliis enterprise. 
 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,'^ courteous, liberal, full of spirit 
 While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, 
 But that I seek occasion how to rise, 
 And yet the king not privy to my drift. 
 Nor any of the house of Lancaster 1 
 
 Enter a Messenger, 
 
 But, stay : What news? why com'st thou in sucli pusi ? 
 Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls and 
 lords, 
 
 Intend here to l)esiege you in your castle : 
 She is hard by with twenty thousand men ; 
 And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. 
 
 York. Ay, Avith my sword. What! thlnk'st thou 
 that we fear them ? 
 Edward and Richard, you shall stay wltli 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 oatlis. 
 
 JVitty—oi sound judi,'ment — of good nndcrstaiwlinj,'. 
 
234 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act I. 
 
 Mont. Brotlier, I go ; I '11 win them, fear it net : 
 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, we 'll meet her in th.e 
 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 gieat, 
 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 ? 
 
 [Alarimi. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III.— Plains near Sandal Castle. 
 
 Alarums : Excursions. Enter Rutland, a7id his 
 Tutor. 
 
 But. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands ? 
 Ah, tutor ! look where bloody Clifibrd comes ! 
 
 Enter Clifford and Soldiers. 
 Clif. Chaplain, away ! thy priesthood saves thy life. 
 As for the brat of this accursed dnke. 
 Whose father slew my father, he shall difl. 
 
 Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. 
 Clif. Soldiers, away with him. 
 2\tt. Ah, Clifibrd ! murther not this innocent child, 
 Lest thou be hated both of God and man. 
 
 [Exit, forced off by Soldiers 
 
Scene III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 235 
 
 Clif. How now ! is he dead alreadj^ ? Or is it fear 
 That makes him close his eyes ? — I '11 open them. 
 
 But. 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 Cliflbrd, hear me speak before I die : 
 I am too mean a subject for thy wrath ; 
 Be tliou 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. 
 Tlie 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. 
 
 Rut. O, let me pray before I take my deatii : — 
 To thee I pray : Sweet Clifford, pity me ! 
 
 Clif. Such pity as my rapiers point affords. 
 
 Rut, I never did thee harm : Why wilt thou slav 
 me? 
 
 Clif. Thy father hath. 
 
 Rut. But 't was 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 ; 
 
236 KING HENRY VI.— PART 111. [Ac; I- 
 
 And when I give occasion of offence, 
 
 Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. 
 
 Clif, No cause ? 
 Thy father slew my father ; therefore, die. 
 
 [Clif. stabs him. 
 
 Rut. Dii faciant, laudia summa sit ista tuce! \_Dies. 
 
 Clif. Plantagenet ! I come, Plantagenet ! 
 And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, 
 Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, 
 Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe otT both. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE IV,— The same. 
 Alarum. Enter 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 them : 
 But this I know, — they have demean' d 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 faulchion, painted to the hilt 
 In blood of those that had encountered him : 
 And 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 cliarg'd again : Init, out, alas ! 
 We bodg'd"^ again ; as I have seen a swan 
 With bootless labour swim against the tide, 
 
 Bod(fd. Jolinson would road hudQ'd. Stoevens thinks tlia' 
 hod(fd here means "we b'.xjfjlcd, m;',de bad or bungling work of 
 our attempt to rally.'' 
 
ScKNE IV.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 237 
 
 And spend her strength with over-matching waves. 
 
 [A short alarum icithin. 
 Ah, hark ! the fatal followers do pursue ; 
 And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury : 
 And were I strong I would not shrm their fury ; 
 The sands are number'd that make up my life ; 
 Here must I stay, and here my life must end. 
 
 Enter Queen Margaret, Ci.ifford, Northumber- 
 land, and Soldiers. 
 
 Come, bloody Clifford, — rough Northumberland, — 
 I dare your quenchless fury to more rage ; 
 I am your butt, and I abide your shot. 
 
 North. Yield to our mercy, proud Flantagenet. 
 
 Clif. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, 
 With downright payment, show'd unto my father. 
 Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, 
 And made an evening at the noontide prick. 
 
 York. My ashes, as the j^lioenix, may bring forth 
 A bird that will revenge upon you all : 
 And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, 
 Scorning whatever you can afflict me with. 
 Why come you not ? what ! multitudes, and fear? 
 
 CUf. So cowards fight, when they can fly no further ; 
 So doves do peck the falcon's piercing 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 overrun my former time : 
 And, if thou canst for Idushing, view this face; 
 And bite thy tongue, that slanders him v;ith cowardice, 
 Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. 
 
 Cllf. I will not bandy with thee word for word ; 
 But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. [Drairs. 
 
 Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes, 
 I would prolong awhile the traitor's life : — 
 Wrath makes him deaf : speak thou, Northumberland. 
 
238 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 North. Hold, Clifford ; do not honour him so much 
 To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart : 
 What valour were it when a cur doth grin 
 For one to thrust his liand between his teeth, 
 When he might spurn him with his foot away ? 
 It is war's prize to take all vantages ; 
 And ten to one is no impeach of valour. 
 
 [They lay hands on York, who struggles. 
 
 Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. 
 
 North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. 
 
 [York is taken prisoner. 
 
 York. So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty ; 
 So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd. 
 
 North. What would your grace have done unto him 
 now ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumber- 
 land, 
 
 Come, make him stand upon this molehill here ; 
 That raught^ at mountains with outstretched arms, 
 Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. 
 What! was it you that would be England's king? 
 Was *t you that revelFd 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 where 's that valiant crook-back prodigy, 
 Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling voice, 
 Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ? 
 Or, witli the rest, where is your darling Rutland ? 
 Look, York ; I stain'd this napkin with the blood 
 That valiant Clilford, with his rapier's point, 
 Made issue from the bosom of the boy : 
 And, if thine eyes can water for his death, 
 I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. 
 Alas, poor York 1 but that I hate thee deadly, 
 I should lament thy miserable state. 
 
 * Raught. The ancient preterite of to reach. 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRI VJ.— PART III. 289 
 
 I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. 
 What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails. 
 That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death 1? 
 Why art thou patient, man? 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 fee'd, 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 it on. 
 
 [Putting a paper croion on his head. 
 Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king ! 
 Ay, this is he that took king Henry's chair ; 
 And this is he was his adopted heir. 
 But how is it that great Plantagenet 
 Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath ? 
 As I betliink me you should not be king 
 Till our king Henry had sliook hands with death. 
 And will you pale^ your htad in Henry's glory, 
 And rob his temples of the diadem, 
 Now in his life, against your holy oath? 
 O, 't is 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. 
 
 Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. 
 
 Q. Mar. Nay, stay ; let 's hear the orisons he makes. 
 
 York. She-wolf of France, but v/orse than v/olves of 
 France, 
 
 Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's 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 is, vizor-like, unchanging. 
 Made impudent with use of evil deeds, 
 I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush : 
 To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'dj 
 Pale — impale — encircle. 
 
210 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act I. 
 
 Were shame enough to sliame thee, wert Ihou not 
 shameless. 
 
 Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, 
 
 Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem, 
 
 Yet not so wealthy as an English 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. 
 
 'T is beauty that doth oft make women proud ; 
 
 But God he knows thy share thereof is small : 
 
 'T is virtue that (h)th make them most admir'd ; 
 
 The contrary doth make tliee wonder'd at : 
 
 'T is 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, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! 
 
 How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, 
 
 To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, 
 
 And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ? 
 
 Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and Hexible ; 
 
 Thou, stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, reiuorseless. 
 
 Bidd'st thou me rage V wliy, now thou hast thy wish : 
 
 Wouldst have me weep ? wliy, now thou hast thy will : 
 
 For raging wind blows up incessant showers, 
 
 And when the rage allays the rain begins. 
 
 These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ; 
 
 And every drop cries vengeance for his deatli, 
 
 'Gainst thee, fell Clillbrd, and thee, false Frenchwoman. 
 
 North. Beshrew me, but his passions move me so 
 That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. 
 
 York. That face of his the hungry cannibals 
 Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with 
 blood : 
 
 But you are more inliuman, more inexorable. 
 
ScENK IV.] KING HENRY VI.-PART III. 241 
 
 O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania. 
 See, ruthless queen, a hapless father s tears : 
 This cloth thou dipp'dst iu blood of my sweet bov 
 And I with tears do wash the blood away. ' ' 
 Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this : 
 
 . , , [He gives hack the handkerchief: 
 
 And, if thou tell st the heavy story right, 
 Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears : 
 Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, 
 And sa)^,— Alas it was a piteous deed \~ 
 There, take the crown, and ^vith 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, my blood upon your heads ! 
 
 North. Had he been slaughterman to all my kin, 
 I should not for my life but weep with him^ ' 
 To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. ' 
 
 Q. Mar What, weeping-ripe, my lord Northumber- 
 land ? 
 
 Think but upon the wrong he did us all 
 And lhat will quickly dry thy melting tears. 
 
 Clif. Here 's for my oath, here 's for my father's death. 
 
 ^ Ti r All , [Stabbiiir/ hi^n. 
 
 Q. Mar. And here 's to nght our gentle-hearted king. 
 7 .1 . [^tMing him. 
 
 York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God ! 
 My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. 
 
 (I Mar. Off with his head, and set it on York S^^T' 
 So York may overlook the town of York. {Exeimi. 
 
2i2 
 
 KING HF.NRY VI.— PART III. [Act, 11. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in Here- 
 fordshire. 
 
 Drums. Enter Edward and Richard, with their 
 Forces, marching. 
 
 Edio. I wonder how our princely father 'scap'd ; 
 Or whether he be 'scapVl away, or no, 
 From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit ; 
 Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news ; 
 Had he been slain, we should have heard the news ; 
 Or, had he 'scap'd, methinks we should have lieard 
 The happy tidings of his good escape. 
 How fares my brother ? why is he so sad ? 
 
 Rich. I cannot joy, until. I be resolv'd 
 Where our riglit valiant father is become. 
 I saw him in the battle range about ; 
 And watch'd him, how he singled Clifford forth. 
 Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop 
 As doth a lion in a herd of neat : 
 Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs ; 
 Who having pinch'd a few, and made tliem cry. 
 The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. 
 So far'd our father with liis enemies ; 
 So fled his enemies my warlike father ; 
 Methinks, "t is prize enough to be his son. 
 See how the morning opes her golden gates, 
 And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ! 
 How well resembles it the prime of youth, 
 Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love ! 
 
 Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? 
 
 Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun ; 
 Not separated witli the racking clouds, 
 But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky 
 
ScEN£ I.] KING HiiNllY VI.— PART HI. 
 
 243 
 
 See, see ! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, 
 As if they vow'd some league inviolable : 
 Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. 
 In this the heaven figures some event. 
 
 Edw. 'T is wondrous strange, the like yet never 
 heard of. 
 
 I think it cites us, brother, to the field ; 
 That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, 
 Each one already blazing by our meedsj^ 
 Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together, 
 And overshine the earth, as this the world. 
 Whate er it bodes, henceforward will I bear 
 Upon my target three fair shining suns. 
 
 Rich. Nay, bear three daughters by your leave I 
 speak it. 
 
 You love the breeder better than the male. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell 
 Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue ? 
 
 Mess. Ah, one that was a woeful looker on, 
 When as the noble duke of York was slain, 
 Your princely father, and my loving lord. 
 
 Edw. O, speak no more ! for I have heard too much. 
 Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. 
 Mess. Environed he was with many foes ; 
 And stood against them, as the hope of Troy 
 Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. 
 But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; 
 And many strokes, though with a little axe. 
 Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. 
 By many hands your father was subdued ; 
 But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm 
 Of unrelenting Cliilbrd and the queen : 
 Who crown'd the gracious duke, in high despite ; 
 Laugh'd in his face ; and, when with grief he wept, 
 The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, 
 ^ Meeds— mexiis. 
 
244 KING HENRY VL— PART III. [Act 11. 
 
 A napkin steeped in the harmless blood 
 Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clilford slain : 
 And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, 
 They took his liead, and on the gates of York 
 They set the same ; and there it doth remain, 
 The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd. 
 
 Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon, 
 Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay ! 
 O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain 
 The flower of Europe for his chivalry ; 
 And treacherously hast thou vanquished him. 
 For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd thee ! 
 Now my soul's palace is become a prison : 
 Ah, would she break from hence ! that this my body 
 Might in the ground be closed up in rest : 
 For never henceforth shall I joy again, 
 Never, O never, shall I see more joy. 
 
 Rich. I cannot weep ; for all my body's moisture 
 Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart : 
 Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen ; 
 For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, 
 Is kindling coals that fire all my breast. 
 And burn me up with flames that tears would quench. 
 To weep is to make less the depth of grief: 
 Tears, then, for babes ; blows and revenge for me ! — 
 Richard, I bear thy name, I '11 venge thy death. 
 Or die renowned by attempting it. 
 
 Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; 
 His dukedom and his chair with me is left. 
 
 Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, 
 Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : 
 For cliair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say ; 
 Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 
 
 March. Enter W aiiwick and Montague, loitJi 
 Forces. 
 
 War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what news 
 abroad ? 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 Rich. 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. 
 
 0 valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. 
 
 Ediv, O Warwick ! Warwick .' that Plantagenet 
 Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption, 
 Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. 
 
 War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears : 
 And now, to add more measure to your woes, 
 
 1 come to tell you things sith then befallen. 
 After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, 
 Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, 
 Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, 
 Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. 
 
 I then in London, keeper of the king, 
 
 IMuster'd my soldiers, gatlier'd flocks of friends, 
 
 And very well appointed, as I thought, 
 
 March'd towards St. Alban's to intercept the queen, 
 
 Bearing the king in my behalf along : 
 
 For by m.y scouts I was advertised 
 
 That she was coming with a full intent 
 
 To dash our late decree in parliament, 
 
 Touching king Henry's oath and your succession. 
 
 Short tale to make, — we at St. Alban's met. 
 
 Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought : 
 
 But, whether 't was tlie coldness of the king, 
 
 Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, 
 
 That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen ; 
 
 Or whether 't was report of her success ; 
 
 Or more than common fear of Cliflbrd's rigour, 
 
 Who thunders to his captives — blood and death, 
 
 I cannot judge : but, to conclude with truth, 
 
 Their weapons like to lightning came and went ; 
 
 Our soldiers' — like the night-owl's lazy flight, 
 
 Or like a lazy thresher with a flail — 
 
 Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. 
 
 VOL. VI. s 
 
246 KING HENKY VI.—PART III. [Act II. 
 
 I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, 
 With promise of high pay and great rewards : 
 But all in vain ; they had no heart to fight, 
 And we, in them, no hope to win the day. 
 So that we fled : the king unto the queen ; 
 Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, 
 In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you ; 
 For in the marches here, we heard, you were 
 Making another head to fight again. 
 
 Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle War- 
 wick ? 
 
 And when came George from Burgundy to England ? 
 
 War. 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. 
 
 Rich, 'T was odds, belike, when valiant Warwick 
 fled; 
 
 Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit. 
 But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire. 
 
 War. 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 fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer. 
 
 Rich. I know it well, lord Warwick ; blame me not ; 
 'T is 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 devotion with revengeful arms ? 
 If for the last, say, Ay, and to it, lords. 
 
 fVar. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out* 
 And therefore comes my brother Montague. 
 
ScKNE I.] KING HENRY Vl.-PAllT III. 247 
 
 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 enrolled in the parliament ; 
 And now to London all the crew are gone, 
 To frustrate both his oath, and what beside 
 May make against the house of Lancaster. 
 Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong : 
 Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, 
 With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March, 
 Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, 
 Will but amount to five-and-twenty thousand. 
 Why, Via ! to London will we march amain ; 
 And once again bestride our foaming steeds. 
 And once again cry — Charge upon our foes ! 
 But never once again turn back and fly. 
 
 Rich. 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. 
 
 Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean ; 
 And when thou faiPst (as God forbid the hour !) 
 Must Edward fall, which peril Heaven forefend ! 
 
 War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York ; 
 The next degree is England's royal throne : 
 For king of England shalt thou be proclaimed 
 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 dreaming of renown. 
 But sound the trumpets, and about our task. 
 
 Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as liard as steel, 
 (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds.) 
 I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. 
 
248 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART ill. [Act il. 
 
 Edw. Then strike up, drums ; — God, and Saint 
 George, for us ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 War. How now ? what news ? 
 Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, 
 The queen is coming with a puissant host ; 
 And craves your company for speedy counsel. 
 
 War. Why, then it sorts, brave wan-iors ; Let 's away. 
 
 yExeunt. 
 
 SCENE II.— Before York. 
 
 E^iter King Henry, Queen Margaret, the Prince 
 OF Wales, Clifford, and Northumberland, 
 roith Forces. 
 
 Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of 
 York. 
 
 Yonder 's the head of that arch-enemy 
 
 That sought to be encompassed with your crown : 
 
 Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord ? 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their 
 wrack ; — 
 
 To see this sight, it irks my very soul. 
 Withhold revenge, dear God ! 't is not my fault, 
 Nor wittingly hav^e I infring'd my vow. 
 
 Clif. 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 lace. 
 Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting ? 
 Not he that sets his foot upon her back. 
 The smallest worm will turn being trodden on ; 
 And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. 
 Ambitious York did level at tliy crown, 
 Thou smiling, while lie knit his angry brows : 
 
ScKXK IL] KING HENllY VI.— PART IIL 2 19 
 
 He, but a duke, would have his son a king, 
 
 And raise his issue, like a loving sire ; 
 
 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 used with fearful flight) 
 
 Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, 
 
 Olfering their own lives in their youngs' 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-grandi'ather and grandsire got. 
 
 My careless father fondly gave away 
 
 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, Ren. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, 
 Inferring arguments of mighty force. 
 But, Clilford, 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 "11 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, 
 Than in possession any jot of pleasure. 
 Ah, cousin York ! 'would thy best friends did know 
 How it doth <>rieve me that thy head is here ! 
 
 Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits ; our fo«3S 
 are nigii. 
 
250 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 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. 
 
 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 '11 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 : 
 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 for- 
 tune. 
 
 K. licji. Wh}'^, that 's my fortune too ; therefore I '11 
 stay. 
 
 North. Be it with resolution then to fight. 
 
 Prmce. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, 
 And hearten those that fight in jom- defence : 
 Unsheathe your sword, good fatlier ; cry, " Saint 
 George! " 
 
 March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, War- 
 wick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers. 
 
 Edw. Now, })erjurM Henry ! wilt thou kneel for grace, 
 And set thy diadem upon my head ; 
 Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Cto, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy ! 
 * Darraign — prepare. 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 251 
 
 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 tiie proudest of thy sort. 
 
 Rich, 'T was you that kill'd young Rutland, was it 
 not? 
 
 Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not sati|fied. 
 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-tongued Warwick ! 
 dare you speak ? 
 When you and I met at St. Alban's last, 
 Your legs did better service than your hands. 
 
 W ar. Then 't was my turn to fly, and now 't is thine 
 Clif You said so much before, and yet you fled. 
 War. 'T was 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 parley ; for scarce I can refrain 
 The execution of my big-swoln heart 
 Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. 
 
 Clif I slew thy father : CalVst thou him a child ? 
 
 Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous coward, 
 As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ; 
 But, ere sunset, I '11 make thee curse the deed. 
 
252 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAilT lil. [Act li 
 
 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 prithee, give no limits to my tongue ; 
 I am a king, and jirivileg'd to speak. 
 
 CUf. My liege, the wound that bred this meeting 
 here 
 
 Cannot be cur'd by words ; therefore be still. 
 
 Rich. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword : 
 By Him that made us alL I am resolv'd 
 That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. 
 
 Edio. 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 everything is right. 
 
 Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands ; 
 For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. 
 
 Q. Mar. 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. 
 
 Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt. 
 Whose ftither bears tlie title of a king, 
 (As if a channel^ should be call'd the sea,) 
 Sliam'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, 
 To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ? 
 
 Edio. A wisp of straw were worth a tliousand crowns, 
 To make this shameless callet know herself. 
 Helen of Greece was fairer far than tliou. 
 Although thy husband may be Menelaus ; 
 And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong 'd 
 
 ^ Stigmatic. See Note on 'Henry VI., Part II.,' Act V., 
 Scent; 1. 
 
 b Channel ; equividtnit to what we now call a licnneL 
 
ScENK JII.J KING HENRY VL— PART UL 
 
 253 
 
 By tliat false woman as this king by thee. 
 
 His father revel I'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 crov/n at home. 
 
 For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride ? 
 
 Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept : 
 
 And we, in pity of the gentle king. 
 
 Had slipp'd our claim until another age. 
 
 Geo. But when we saw our sunshine made thy sprir^g, 
 And that thy summer bred us no increase. 
 We set tlie axe to thy usurping root : 
 And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, 
 Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, 
 We '11 never leave till we have hewn thee dov/n, 
 Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. 
 
 Edw. 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. 
 
 Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. 
 
 Edw. No, wrangling woman ; we '11 no longer stay : 
 These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. 
 
 [Exeimt 
 
 SCENE 111.— A Field of Battle hetiveen Towton 
 and Saxton in Yorkshire. 
 
 Alarums : Excursions. Enter Warwick. 
 
 War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, 
 I lay me down a little while to breathe : 
 
2'H 
 
 KING HENRY VI -PART III. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid. 
 Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, 
 And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. 
 
 E7iter Edward, ru7i7iing. 
 Edw. Smile, gentle Heaven ! or strike, ungentle death ! 
 For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. 
 War. How now, my lord ? what hap ? what hope of 
 good? 
 
 Enter George. 
 
 Geo. 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 ? 
 
 Edw. Bootless is flight ; they follow us with wings : 
 And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. 
 
 Enter Richard. 
 Rich. Ah, Warwick, wliy hast thou withdrawn thy- 
 self? 
 
 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 steeds. 
 That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood. 
 The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. 
 
 War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood : 
 I '11 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 '11 never pause again, never stand still. 
 Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, 
 Or fortune given me measure of revenge. 
 
 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI.— VART HI. 2'>b 
 
 Echo. O Wanvick, 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 dov/n of kings ! 
 Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands 
 That to my foes this body must be prey, 
 Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may hope, 
 And give sweet passage to my sinful soul ! 
 Now, lords, take leave until we meet again. 
 Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth. 
 
 Rich, Brother, give me thy hand ; and, gentle War- 
 wick, 
 
 Let me embrace thee in my weary arms : 
 I, that did never weep, now melt with woe, 
 That winter should cut otf our spring-time s». 
 
 War, Away, away I Once more, sv/eet lords, fare- 
 well. 
 
 Geo. 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. 
 Fore-slow^ no longer, make we hence amain. \_Exeu7it, 
 
 SCENE IV.— The same. Another Part of the Field, 
 Excisions. Enter Richard a7id Cliffohd. 
 
 Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone : 
 Suppose this arm is for the duke of York, 
 And this for Rutland ; both bound to revenge, 
 W^ert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. 
 
 Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone : 
 This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ; 
 
 ^ Fore-slow — delay— loiter. 
 
256 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act II. 
 
 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. 
 
 \_They jiglit. Warwick e?^^ers ; Clifford ^^^?s. 
 Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase ; 
 For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. \Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE Another Part of the Field. 
 Alarum. Enter King Henry. 
 
 K. Hen. 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, 
 Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind ; 
 Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea 
 Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : 
 Sometime, the flood prevails ; and then, the wind : 
 Now, one the better ; then, another best ; 
 Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast. 
 Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : 
 So is the equal poise of this fell war. 
 Here on this molehill will I sit me down. 
 To whom God will, there be the victory ! 
 For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, 
 Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both 
 They prosper best of all when I am thence. 
 'Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so : 
 For what is in this world but grief and woe ? 
 O God I methinks it were a happy life. 
 To be no better than a homely swain : 
 To sit upon a hill, as I do now, 
 To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, 
 Thereby to see the minutes how they run: 
 
ScENK v.] KING HENRY VL-PART lil. 2j1 
 
 How many make tlie hour full complete, 
 
 How many hours bring about the day, 
 
 How many days will finish up the year, 
 
 How many years a mortal man may live. 
 
 When this is known, then to divide the times : 
 
 So many hours must I tend my flock ; 
 
 So many hours must I take my rest ; 
 
 So many hours must I contemplate ; 
 
 So many hours must I sport mysell': 
 
 So many days my ewes have been with young ; 
 
 So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean ; 
 
 So many years ere I shall shear tiie fleece ; 
 
 So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, 
 
 Pass'd over to the end they were created. 
 
 Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 
 
 Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how lovely ! 
 
 Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
 
 To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, 
 
 Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy 
 
 To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery ? 
 
 O, yes it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. 
 
 And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, 
 
 His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, 
 
 His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, 
 
 All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, 
 
 Is far beyond a prince's delicates, 
 
 His viands sparkling in a golden cup, 
 
 His body couched in a curious bed, 
 
 When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him. 
 
 Alancm. Enter a Son that has killed his Father- 
 dragging in the dead hody. 
 
 Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. 
 This man, whom hand to hand I slev/ 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 
 
25S 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act II. 
 
 To some man else, as this dead man doth me. 
 Who 's this ? — O God ! it is my father's face, 
 Wliom m this conflict I unawares have kill'd. 
 O heavy times, begetting such events ! 
 From London by the king was I pressed forth ; 
 My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, 
 Came on the part of York, press'd by his master ; 
 And I, "who at his hands received my life, 
 Have by my hands of life bereaved him. 
 Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did ! 
 And pardon, father, for I knew not thee I 
 My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks ; 
 And no more words till they have flow'd their fill. 
 
 K. Hen. O piteous spectacle ! O bloody times ! 
 Whiles lions war, and battle for their dens, 
 Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. 
 Weep, wretched man, 1 11 aid thee, tear for tear ; 
 And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war. 
 Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief. 
 
 Enter a Father who has killed his Son, loith the hochj 
 in his arms. 
 
 Fath. 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 tempest of my heart. 
 Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart ! 
 O, pity, God, this miserable age ! 
 What stratagems,'^ how fell, how butcherly. 
 Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural. 
 This deadly quarrel daily doth beget ! 
 
 °- Stratagems here means disastrous events— not merely the 
 events ol' war, its surprises and snares. 
 
Scene V.] KING HENRY VI.-PAllT III. 
 
 250 
 
 O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon. 
 And hath bereft thee of thy life too late ! 
 
 K. He7i. Woe above woe ! grief more than common 
 grief I 
 
 O, that my death would stay tliese ruthfui deeds ! 
 
 0 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 : 
 Wither one rose, and let the other flourish ! 
 If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. 
 
 Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, 
 Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ! 
 
 Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son. 
 Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ! 
 
 K, He7i. How will the country, for these woeful 
 chances. 
 
 Mis-think the king, and not be satisfied ! 
 Son. Was ever son so rued a father's death ? 
 Fath. Was ever father so bemoan'd a son ? 
 K. Hen. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe ? 
 Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. 
 
 Son. I '11 bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. 
 
 [Exit, loith the body. 
 Fath. 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. 
 Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, 
 As Priam was for all his valiant sons. 
 
 1 '11 bear thee hence ; and let them fight that will. 
 For I have murther'd where I should not kill. 
 
 [Exit, with the body. 
 * Obsequums — performing obsequies. 
 
260 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act II. 
 
 K. Hen, Sad-hearted men, mucb overgone with care. 
 Here sits a king more woeful than you are. 
 
 Alarums : Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret, 
 Prince of Wales, and Exeter. 
 
 Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, 
 And Warwick rages like a chafed bull : 
 Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit. 
 
 Q. Mar. 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. 
 
 Exe. Avmy ! for vengeance comes along with them : 
 Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed ; 
 Or else come after, 1 11 away before. 
 
 K. Hen . Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter ; 
 Not that I fear to stay, but love to go 
 Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! lExe^mt 
 
 SCENE VI.—T-^e same. 
 A loud Alarum. Enter Clifford, loounded. 
 
 Clif. 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 commixtures melt. 
 Impairing Henry, strengthening mis-proud York, 
 [The common people swarm like summer flies :] 
 And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ? 
 And who sliines now but Henry's enemies ? 
 O Phoebus ! hadst thou never given consent 
 That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, 
 
ScKN;i VI.] KING HEMIY Vi.— PART Hi. 
 
 261 
 
 Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth ; 
 And Henry, hadst tliou sway'd as kings should do, 
 Or as thy father, and his lather, did, 
 Giving no ground unto tlie house of York, 
 They never then had sprung like summer iiies; 
 I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm, 
 Had left no mourning widows for oiu- deatii, 
 And thou this day hadst kept tiiy chair iu peace. 
 For what doth cherish v/eeds, but gentle air ? 
 And what makes robbers l)o]d, but too much lenity V 
 Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds : 
 No way to fly, nor strength to hold out iiiglit; 
 The foe is merciless, and will not pity ; 
 For at their hands I have deserv'd no pity. 
 The air hath got into my deadly wounds, 
 And much efluse of blood doth make me I'aint : 
 Come, York and Richard, Warwick, and there;;t ; 
 I stabb'd your fatliers bosoms, split my breast. 
 
 [lie faints. 
 
 Alantm and retreat. Enter Edward, Geoiig}?, 
 Richard, Montague, Warwick, a7id Sohliers. 
 
 Fdw. Now breathe we, lords ; good fortune bids m 
 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 Cliflbrd fled with them ? 
 
 War. No, 't is impossilde he should escape : 
 For, though before his face 1 s])eak the words, 
 Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave : 
 And, wheresoe'er he is, he 's surely dead. 
 
 [Clifford groans, and dies. 
 
 Edw. Whose soul is that wliich takes her heavy leave? 
 
 Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's de])artiiig. 
 
 VOL. VI. T 
 
262 KING HENRY VI.-PART III. [Act II. 
 
 Edu). See who it is : and, now the battle 's ended, 
 If friend, or foe, let him be gently used. 
 
 Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 't is Cliiford 
 Who, not contented that lie lopp'd the branch 
 In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, 
 But set his murthering knife unto the root 
 From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, — 
 I mean, our princely father, duke of York. 
 
 War. From off the gates of York fetch down the 
 head, 
 
 Your father's head, which Clifford placed there : 
 Instead whereof let this supply the room ; 
 Measure for measure must be answered. 
 
 Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, 
 That nothing sung but death to us and ours : 
 Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound. 
 And his ill-boding tongue no more shall s])eak. 
 
 [Attendants bring the body forward. 
 
 War. I think his understanding is bereft : — 
 Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee ?— 
 Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, 
 And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. 
 
 B,ich. O, would he did ! and so, perhaps, he doth ; 
 'T is but his policy to counterfeit, 
 Because he would avoid such bitter taunts 
 Which in the time of death he gave our father. 
 
 Geo. If so thou think 'st, vex him with eager » words. 
 
 Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. 
 
 Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. 
 
 War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. 
 
 Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. 
 
 Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. 
 
 Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. 
 
 Geo. Where 's captain Margaret, to fence you now ? 
 
 War. They mock thee, Clifford ! swear as thou wast 
 wont. 
 
 * Eager — sour— sharp. 
 
Scene VI.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 203 
 
 Rich, What, not an oath? nay, then the v/orld goes 
 hard 
 
 When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath 
 
 I know by that he 's dead : And, by my soul. 
 
 If this right hand would buy two hours' life, 
 
 That I in all despite might rail at him. 
 
 This hand should chop it olf ; and with the issuing blood 
 
 Stifle the villain, whose unstanched thirst 
 
 York and young Rutland could not satisfy. 
 
 War. Ay, but he 's dead: Off with the traitor's head, 
 And rear it in the place your father's stands. 
 And now to London with triumphant march. 
 There to be crowned England's royal king. 
 From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France 
 And ask the lady Bona for thy queen : 
 So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ; 
 And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread 
 The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again ; 
 For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt. 
 Yet look to have them buzz, to offend thine ears. 
 First, will I see the coronation ; 
 And then to Brittany I '11 cross the sea. 
 To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. 
 
 Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be: 
 For on thy shoulder do I build my seat ; 
 And never will I undertake the thing 
 Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. 
 Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster ; 
 And George, of Clarence ; Warwick, as ourself. 
 Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. 
 
 Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence ; George, of Gloster; 
 For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. 
 
 War. Tut ! that 's a foolish observation ; 
 Richard, be duke of Gloster. Now to London, 
 To see these honours in possession. [Exetint. 
 
 t2 
 
■diji kinct henry VI.— part hi. [aci hi. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.— ^ Chace in the North 0/ England. 
 Enter Tioo Keepers, with cross-hotos in their Jiands. 
 
 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we '11 shroud 
 
 ourselves ; 
 
 For through this laund* anon the deer will come; 
 And in this covert will we make our stand, 
 Culling the principal of all the deer. 
 
 2 Keep. 1 '11 stay above the hill, so both may shoot. 
 
 1 Keep. That cannot be ; the noise of thy cross-bow 
 Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. 
 
 Here stand we both, and aim we at the best : 
 And, for the time shall not seem tedious, 
 I '11 tell thee what befell me on a day. 
 In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 
 
 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let 's stay till he be past. 
 
 Enter King Henry, disguised, icith a prayer-hook. 
 
 K Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, 
 To greet mine own land with my wishful .sight. 
 No, Harry, Harry, 't is no land of thine; 
 Thy place is till'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, 
 Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith tliou wast anointed : 
 No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, 
 No humble suitors press to speak for right. 
 No, not a man comes for redress of thee ; 
 For how can I help them, and not myself? 
 
 1 Keep. Ay, heie 's a deer whose skin 's a keeper's fee : 
 This is the quondam king ; let 's seize upon him. 
 
 K. Hen, Let me embrace these sour adversities : 
 For wise men say it is the wisest course. 
 
 * Laund (the same as lawn) is» aceorcliu<,' to Camden, " a 
 pUiu amon<; trees." 
 
ScKNE I.] KING HENRY VL—PAllT III. l>65 
 
 2 Keep. Why linger we ? let us lay hands upon him. 
 
 1 Kee}). Forbear a while ; we 11 hear a little more. 
 K. Hen. My queen and son are gone to France for aid ; 
 
 And, as I liear, the great commanding Warwick 
 Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister 
 To wife for Edward : If this news be true. 
 Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost ; 
 For Warwick is a subtle orator, 
 And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. 
 By this account, then, Margaret may win him ; 
 For she 's a woman to be pitied much : 
 Her sighs will make a battery in his breast ; 
 Her tears will pierce into a marble heart ; 
 The tiger will be mild while she doth mourn ; 
 And Nero will be tainted with remorse. 
 To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. 
 Ay, but she 's come to beg ; Warwick, to give : 
 She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry ; 
 He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. 
 She weeps, and says — her Henry is depos'd ; 
 He smiles, and says— his Edward is installed 
 That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more ; 
 W^hiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, 
 Inferreth arguments of mighty strength ; 
 And, in conclusion, wins tlie king from her, 
 With promise of his sister, and what else. 
 To strengthen and support king Edward's place. 
 O Margaret, thus 't will be; and thou, poor soul, 
 Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn. 
 
 2 Keep. Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and 
 
 queens ? 
 
 K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to : 
 A man at least, for less I should not be ; 
 And men may talk of kings, and why not I ? 
 
 2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind ; and that 's enough. 
 
 2 Keep. But if thou be a king, where is thy crown V 
 
266 KING HEMIY VI.— PART III. [Act III. 
 
 K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head ; 
 Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, 
 Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content ; 
 A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy. 
 
 2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content. 
 Your crown content and you must be contented 
 To go along with us : for, as we think. 
 You are the king king Edward hath deposVl ; 
 And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, 
 Will apprehend you as his enemy. 
 
 K. Hen. But did you never swear and break an oath ? 
 
 2 Keep. No, never such an oath ; nor will not now. 
 
 K. Hen. Where did you dwell when I was king of 
 England? 
 
 2 Keep. Here in this country where we now remain. 
 
 K. He7i. I was anointed king at nine months old ; 
 My father, and my grandfather, were kings ; 
 And you were sworn true subjects unto me : 
 And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths ? 
 
 1 Keep. No ; 
 For we were subjects but while you were king. 
 
 K. Hen. Why, am I dead ? do I not breathe a man ? 
 Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. 
 Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 
 And as the air blows it to me again, 
 Obeying with my wind when I do blow, 
 And yielding to another when it blows, 
 Commanded always by the greater gust ; 
 Such is the lightness of you common men. 
 But do not break your oaths ; for, of that sin 
 My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. 
 Go where you will, the king shall be commanded ; 
 And be you kings ; command, and I '11 obey. 
 
 1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king Ed 
 ward. 
 
 K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry, 
 If he were seated as king Edward is. 
 
Scene IL] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 267 
 
 I Keep. We charge you, in Gk)d's name, and in the 
 ^ king's, 
 To go with us unto the officers. 
 
 K. Hen. In God's name, lead ; your king's name be 
 obey'd : 
 
 And what God will, that let your king perform ; 
 
 And what he will, I humbly yield imto. \_Excunt. 
 
 SCENE II. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Gloster, Clarence, and 
 Lady Grey. 
 
 K. Ediv. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Alban's field 
 This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, 
 His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror : 
 Her suit is now, to repossess those lands ; 
 Which we in justice cannot well deny. 
 Because in quarrel of the house of York 
 The worthy gentleman did lose his life. 
 
 Glo. Your liighness shall do well to grant her suit ; 
 It were dishonour to deny it her. 
 
 K. Edw. It were no less ; but yet 1 11 make a pause. 
 
 Glo. Yea ! is it so ? 
 I see the lady hath a thing to grant, 
 Before the king will grant her humble suit. 
 
 Clar. He knows the game : How true he keeps the 
 wind ! [Aside, 
 
 Glo. Silence! [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw, Widow, we will consider of your suit ; 
 And come some other time, to know our mind. 
 
 L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay : 
 May it please your liighness to resolve me now ; 
 And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me. 
 
 Glo. [Aside ~\ Ay, widow? then I '11 warrant you all 
 your lands. 
 An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. 
 Fight closer, or, good faith, you '11 catch a blow. 
 
KING HENRY VI.-PART III. [Act JIl. 
 
 Clax. I fear her not unless slie cliance to fall. \ Aside. 
 Glo. God for})id that I ibr he '11 take vantages. \jWtde. 
 K. Edio. How many children hast thou, v/idow? 
 tell me. 
 
 Clar. I tliink he means to beg a cliild of her. [^Asidc. 
 Glo. Nay, then whip me ; he 11 rather give her two. 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. 
 
 Glo. You shall have four, if you'll be rul'd by hiii^. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. 'T were pity they sliould lose their father's 
 land. 
 
 L. Grey. J3e pitiful, dread lord, and grant it tlien. 
 K. B.dxo. Lords, give us leave : 1 '11 try this widow's 
 wit. 
 
 Glo. A)^, good leave liave you ; for you will have leave 
 Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. 
 
 [Gi.osTER and Clarence retire to the other side. 
 K. Edic. Now, tell me, madam, do you love your 
 children ? 
 
 L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. 
 K. Ediv. And would you not do much to do them 
 good? 
 
 L. Grey. To do them good I would sustain some harm. 
 K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to do them 
 good. 
 
 L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. 
 K. EdiD. I '11 tell you how these lands are to l)e got. 
 L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness* 
 service. 
 
 K. Edio. What service wilt thou do me, if I give them ? 
 L. Grey. Wliat you command that rests in me to do. 
 K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my boon. 
 L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. 
 it. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do v/ hat I mean to ask. 
 L. Grey. Wliy, then I will do wliat your grace com- 
 mands. 
 
S-KKK Il.j KING HENRY VI.— PART ill. ^'69 
 
 Glo. He plies her bard ; and much rain wears the 
 marble. \_Aside. 
 Clar. As red as (ire ! na}-, then her wax must melt. 
 
 [^Aside. 
 
 L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not hear niv 
 task ? 
 
 K' Edio. An easy task ; 't is but to love a king. 
 L. Grey. That 's soon perform'd, because 1 am a sub- 
 ject. 
 
 K. Edio. Why, then, thy husband s lands I freely 
 give tliee. 
 
 L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. 
 Glo. The match is made ; she seals it with a curt'sy. 
 K. Edio. But stay thee, 't is the fruits of love I mean. 
 L. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. 
 K Ediu. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. 
 What love think"st thou I sue so much to get? 
 
 L. Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my 
 prayers ; 
 
 That love which virtue begs and virtue grants. 
 
 K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. 
 L. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought you 
 did. 
 
 K. Edio. But now you partly may perceive my 
 mind. 
 
 L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive 
 Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. 
 
 K. Edw. To tell tiiee plain, I aim to lie with thee. 
 L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. 
 K. Edio. Why, then thou shalt not have tliy hus- 
 band's lands. 
 
 L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dov/er; 
 For by tliat loss I wdll not purchase them. 
 
 K. Edw. Tliereinthou v/rong'st tliy children mightily. 
 L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them and 
 me. 
 
 But, mighty lord, this merry inclination 
 
270 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-l'ART III. [Act III. 
 
 Accords not with the sadness of my suit ; 
 Please you dismiss me, either with ay or no. 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, if thou wilt say ay to my request : 
 No, if thou dost say no to my demand. 
 
 L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. 
 
 Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her brows. 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. [Aside.'] Her looks do argue her replete 
 with modesty ; 
 Her words do shoAv her wit incomparable. 
 All her perfections challenge sovereignty : 
 One way, or other, she is for a king ; 
 And she shall be my love, or else my queen. 
 Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen ? 
 
 L. Grey. 'T is better said than done, my gracious 
 lord : 
 
 I am a subject fit to jest withal. 
 But far unfit to be a sovereign. 
 
 K. Edw. Sv/eet widow, by my state I swear to thee, 
 I speak no more than v/hat my soul intends ; 
 And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. 
 
 L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto : 
 I know I am too mean to be your queen, 
 And yet too good to be your concubine. 
 
 K. Edw. You cavil, widow ; I did mean my queen. 
 
 L. Grey. 'T will grieve your grace my son should 
 call you father. 
 
 K. Edw. No more than when my daughters call thee 
 mother. 
 
 Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children ; 
 And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, 
 Have other some : why, "'tis a happy thing 
 To be the father unto many sons. 
 Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. 
 
 ^ Sadness— sevions^ess. 
 
Scene II.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 27). 
 
 GIg. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift! 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 Clar. When he was made a shriver, 't was for shift. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two have 
 had. 
 
 Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad. 
 K. Edw. You 'd think it strange if I should marry her. 
 Clar. To whom, my lord ? 
 
 Edic. Why, Clarence, to myself. 
 
 Glo. That would be ten days' wonder at the least. 
 Clar. That 's a day longer than a wonder lasts. 
 Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes. 
 K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers : I can tell you ))oth 
 Her suit is granted for her iiusband's lands. 
 
 Enter a Nobltman. 
 
 Noh. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, 
 And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. 
 
 K. Edw. See that he be conveyed unto the Tower : 
 And go we, brothers, to the man that took him. 
 To question of his apprehension. 
 Widow, go you along ; — Lords, use her honourable. 
 [Exeunt K. Edw., Lady Grey, Clarence, and Lord. 
 
 Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. 
 'Would he were wasted, man'ow, bones, and all. 
 That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, 
 To cross me from the golden time I look for ! 
 And yet, between my souls desire and me, 
 (The lustful Edward's title buried,) 
 Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, 
 And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, 
 To take their rooms, ere I can place myself : 
 A cold premeditation for my purpose I 
 Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty ; 
 Like one that stands upon a promontory. 
 And spies a far-off shore where he would tread. 
 
2T2 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PART III. f Acr 
 
 Wishing his foot were equal with his eye ; 
 
 And chides the sea that sunders him fiora thence, 
 
 Saying, lie '11 lade it dry to have his way : 
 
 So do I wish the crown, being so far oil'; 
 
 And so I chide the means tliat keep me from it ; 
 
 And so I say, I '11 cut the causes off, 
 
 Flattering me with impossibilities. 
 
 My eye 's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much. 
 
 Unless my hand and strength could equal them. 
 
 Well, say there is no kingdom tlien for Richard ; 
 
 What other pleasure can the world afford ? 
 
 I '11 make my heaven in a lady's lap. 
 
 And deck my body in gay ornaments, 
 
 And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. 
 
 0 miserable thouglit ! and mere unlikely 
 Than to accomplisli tvv^enty golden crowns ! 
 Why, love fors^vore me in my mother's v/omb : 
 And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, 
 She did corrupt frail nature v/ith some bribe 
 To shrink mine arm up like a withered shrub ; 
 To make an envious mountain on my back, 
 Where sits deformity to mock my body ; 
 
 To shape my legs of an unequal size ; 
 
 To disproportion me in every part. 
 
 Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, 
 
 That carries no impression like the dam. 
 
 And am I then a man to be belov'd ? 
 
 O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought I 
 
 Then, since this earth affords no joy to me 
 
 But to command, to check, to o'erbear such 
 
 As are of better person than myself, 
 
 1 '11 make my lieaven to dream upon the crown ; 
 And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell, 
 Until my mis-shap'd trunk, that bears this head, 
 Be round impaled witli a glorious crown. 
 
 And yet 1 know not liow to get tlie crown, 
 For many lives stand between me and home ; 
 
Scene III.] KING liKxNliY Vi— PAKT 111. 
 
 And I, — like one lost in a t.liorny wood, 
 
 Tiiat rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns, 
 
 Seeking a way, and straying from the way ; 
 
 Not knowing how to find the open air, 
 
 But toiling desperately to find it out, — 
 
 Torment myself to catch the English crown : 
 
 And from that torment I will free myself. 
 
 Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. 
 
 Why, I can smile, and murther wliiles I smile : 
 
 And cry, content, to that which grieves my heai t ; 
 
 And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, 
 
 And frame my face to all occasions. 
 
 I '11 drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ; 
 
 I '11 slay more gazers than the basilisk ; 
 
 I '11 play the orator as well as Nestor ; 
 
 Deceive more slily than Ulysses could ; 
 
 And, like a Sinon, take another Troy : 
 
 1 can add colours to the cameleon ; 
 
 Change shapes with Proteus, for advantages, 
 
 And set the murtherous Machiavel to school. 
 
 Can I do this, and cannot get a crown ? 
 
 Tut ! were it farther olT 1 '11 pluck it down. [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III. — France. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, and 
 Lady Bona, attended ; the King takes his state. 
 Then eiiter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward 
 her son, and the Earl of Oxford. 
 
 K. Leio, Fair queen of England, worthy Margaret, 
 
 [^Rising. 
 
 Sit down with us ; it ill befits thy state 
 
 And birth that thou shouldst stand, while Lewis doth sit. 
 
 Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France ; now jMargaiet 
 Must strike her sail, and learn awhile to serve, 
 Where kings command. I was, I must confess. 
 Great Albion's queen in former golden days : 
 
?74 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAPxT III. [Act III. 
 
 But now mischance hath trod my title down, 
 And with dishonour laid me on the ground ; 
 Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, 
 And to my humble seat conform myself. 
 
 K. Leiv. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this 
 
 deep despair ? 
 Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with 
 tears. 
 
 And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares, 
 K. Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, 
 
 And sit thee by our side : yield not thy neck 
 
 [Seats her by him. 
 
 To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind 
 
 Still ride in txiumph over all mischance. 
 
 Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief ; 
 
 It shall be eas'd if France can yield relief. 
 
 Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my drooping 
 thoughts, 
 
 And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. 
 Now, therefore, be it* known to noble Lewis, 
 That Henry, sole possessor of my love. 
 Is, of a king, become a banish'd man. 
 And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn ; 
 While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York, 
 Usurps the regal title, and the seat 
 Of England's true-anointed lawful king. 
 This is the cause that I, poor Margaret, 
 With this, my son, prince Edward, Henry's heir, 
 Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ; 
 And if thou fail us all our hope is done : 
 Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help ; 
 Our people and our peers are both misled, 
 Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, 
 And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. 
 
 K. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience calm the 
 storm, 
 
 While we bethink a means to break it ofi*. 
 
SCESE in.] KING HENRY VI.-PAIIT III. 
 
 Q. Mar. The more we stay the stronger grows our foe. 
 K. Leio. The more I stay the more I '11 succour thee. 
 Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow : 
 And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow. 
 
 Enter Warwick, attended. 
 
 K. Leic. What 's he approacheth boldly to our pre- 
 sence ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest 
 friend. 
 
 K. Leio. Welcome, brave Warwick ! What brings 
 thee to France ? 
 [Descending from his state. Queen Margaret rises. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise ; 
 For this is he that moves both wind and tide. 
 
 War. From worthy Edward, king of Albion, 
 My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 
 I come, in kindness and unfeigned love, 
 First, to do greetings to thy royal person ; 
 And then to crave a league of amity : 
 And, lastly, to confirm that amity 
 With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant 
 That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister. 
 To England's king in lawful marriage. 
 
 Q. Mar. If that go forward Henry's hope is done. 
 
 JVar. And, gracious madam [to Bona], in our king's 
 behalf, 
 
 I am commanded, with your leave and favour. 
 Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue 
 To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart ; 
 Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears. 
 Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue. 
 
 Q. Mar. King Lewis, and lady Bona, hear me speak, 
 Before you answer Warwick. His demand 
 Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, 
 But from deceit, bred by necessity ; 
 For how can tyrants safely govern home, 
 
27« KING HKMIY VI.— PAilT III. [act 111. 
 
 Unless abroad tJiey purchase great alliance? 
 
 To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice, 
 
 That Henry livetli still : but were he dead, 
 
 Yet here prince Edward stands, kini^ Henry's son. 
 
 Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage 
 
 Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour : 
 
 For though usurpers sway the rule awliile. 
 
 Yet Heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. 
 
 War. Injurious Margaret! 
 
 Prince. And why not queen ? 
 
 War. Because thy father Henry did usurp ; 
 And thou no more art prince than she is queen. 
 
 Oxf. Tlien Warwick disannuls great John of Gaun^, 
 Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain ; 
 And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the fourth, 
 Whose wisdom v/as a mirror to the wisest ; 
 And, after that wise prince, Henry the tifth, 
 W^ho by his prowess conquered all France : 
 From these our Henry lineally descends. 
 
 War. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse 
 You told not, how Henry the sixth hath lost 
 All that which Henry the fifth had gotten? 
 Methinks, these peers of France should smile at that. 
 But for the rest, you tell a pedigree 
 Of threescore and two years ; a silly time 
 To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. 
 
 Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against tliy 
 liege, 
 
 Whom thou obeyedst thirty and six years. 
 And not bewray thy treason with a blusli ? 
 
 War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, 
 Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree ? 
 For shame ! leave Henry, and call Edward kinr. 
 
 Oxf. Call him my king, by wliose injurious doom 
 My elder brotlier, the lord Aubrey Vere, 
 Was done to death? and more than so, my father, 
 Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years. 
 
Scene HI.] KING IIENllY VI.— PART III. 
 
 When nature brought liim to the door of death i 
 j No, Warwick, no; \vhile life uphohls this arm, 
 1 This arm upliohls the house of Lancaster, 
 j Wa7\ And I the house of York. 
 
 K. Lew. Queen Mai-garet, prince Edward, and C)x- 
 ford, 
 
 Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside, 
 While I use further conference witli Warwick. 
 
 Q. Mar. Heavens grant that Warwick's words be- 
 witch him not ! 
 
 \_Retiring tcith the Prince and Oxford. 
 
 K. Leic. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon tliy 
 conscience, 
 Is Edward your true king? for 1 were loth 
 To link with him that were iK)t la^vful chosen. 
 
 JVa7\ Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour. 
 
 K. Leic. But is he gracious in the jieople's eye ? 
 
 War. The more, that Henry v/as unfortunate. 
 
 K. Levi. Then furtlier, all dissembling set aside. 
 Tell me ibr truth the measure of his love 
 Unto our sister Bona. 
 
 War. Such it seems 
 
 As may beseem a monarch like himself. 
 Myself have often lieard him say, and swear, 
 Tliat this his love was an eternal plant. 
 Whereof tlie root was fix'd in virtue's ground , 
 Tlie leaves and fruit maintain'd with ])eauty^s sun ; 
 Exempt from envy, but not from disdain. 
 Unless tlie lady Bona quit his pain. 
 
 K. Lew. Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. 
 
 Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine : — 
 Yet I confess, \_To War.] that often ere this day. 
 When I have lieard your king's desert recounted, 
 Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. 
 
 K. Lew. Then, Warwick, thus, — Our sister shall be 
 Ed ward's ; 
 
 And now forthwith sliall articles be drawn 
 
 VOL. VI. u 
 
278 KING HENRY VI.—PART irr. fAcx lU. 
 
 Touching the jointure that your king must make, 
 Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised : 
 Draw near, queen Margaret, and be a witness 
 Tliat Bona shall be wile to the English king. 
 
 Prince. To Edward, but not to the English king. 
 
 Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick ! it was thy device 
 By this alliance to make void my suit ; 
 Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend. 
 
 K. Leio. And still is friend to him and Margaret : 
 But if your title to the crown be weak, 
 As may appear by Edward's good success. 
 Then 't is but reason that I be releas'd 
 From giving aid, which late I promised. 
 Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand 
 That your estate requires, and mine can yield. 
 
 War. Heiny now lives in Scotland, at his ease, 
 Where, having nothing, nothing he can lose. 
 And as for you yourself^ our quondam queen. 
 You have a father able to maintain you ; 
 And better 't were you troubled him than France. 
 
 Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, 
 peace ; 
 
 Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings ! 
 I will not hence till with my talk and tears. 
 Both full of truth, I make king Lewis behold 
 Thy sly conveyance,** and thy lord's false love ; 
 For both of you are birds of self-same feather. 
 
 \_A horn sounded within, 
 K. Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lord ambassador, these letters are for you ; 
 Sent from your brother, marquis Montague ; — 
 These from our king unto your majesty ; — 
 And, madam, these for you ; from whom — I know not. 
 
 [ To Margaret. They all read their letters, 
 ^ Conveyance—} uggling — artifice. 
 
SciiNJi lil.] KING HENRY VI.—PART JII. 
 
 279 
 
 Oxf. I like it well, that our fair queen and mistress 
 Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his. 
 Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as he were 
 nettled : 
 I hope all 's for the best. 
 
 if. Lew. Warwick, what are thy news ? and yours, 
 fair queen ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Mine, such as fill my heart with unhop'd 
 joys. 
 
 War, Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent. 
 
 K. Letv. What ! lias your king married the lady Grey f 
 And now, to soothe your forgery and his, 
 Sends me a paper to persuade me patience ? 
 Is this the alliance that he seeks with France ? 
 Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner 
 
 Q. Mar. I told your majesty as much before : 
 This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty. 
 
 War. King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of Heami, 
 And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, 
 That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's ; 
 No more my king, for he dishonours me ; 
 But most himself, if he could see his shame. 
 Did I forget, that by the house of York 
 My father came mitimely to his death ? 
 Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? 
 Did I impale him v/ith the regal crown ? 
 Did I put Henry from his native right ; 
 And am I guerdon'd at the last with sliame ? 
 Shame on himself : for my desert is honour. 
 And to repair my honour lost for him, 
 I here renounce him, and return to Henry : 
 My noble queen, let former grudges pass, 
 And henceforth I am thy true servitor ; 
 I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona, 
 And replant Henry in his former state. 
 
 Q. Mar. Warwick, these words have turned my hate 
 to love ; 
 
 u 2 
 
KING HENRY Vi.— PART lil. [Act III. 
 
 And I forgive and quite forget old faults, 
 
 And joy that thou becom'st king Henry's friend. 
 
 War. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, 
 That if king Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us 
 With some few bands of chosen soldiers, 
 I 'II undertake to land them on our coast, 
 And I'orce the tyrant from his seat by war. 
 *T is not his new-made bride shall succour him : 
 And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, 
 He 's very likely iiow to fall from him ; 
 For matching more for wanton lust than lionour, 
 Or than for strength and safety of our country. 
 
 Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bor^a be reveng'd, 
 But by thy help to this distressed queen ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how sliall poor Henry live. 
 Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? 
 
 Bona. My quarrel and tliis English queen's are one. 
 
 War. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours. 
 
 K. Leio. And mine with hers, and thine, and Mar- 
 garet's. 
 
 Therefore, at last, I firmly am resolv'd, 
 You shall have aid. 
 
 Q. Mar. Let me give humble tlianks for all at once. 
 
 K. Leio. Then, England's messenger, return in post ; 
 And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, 
 That Lewis of France is sending over maskers. 
 To revel it with him and his new bride : 
 Thou seest what 's past, go fear* thy king withal. 
 
 Bona. Tell him, in hope he '11 prove a widower shortly, 
 I '11 wear the willow garland for his sake. 
 
 Q. Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid asiui', 
 And I am ready to put armour on. 
 
 War. Tell him from me, that he hath done mc wrong; 
 And therefore 1 11 uncrown him, ere 't be long. 
 There 's thy reward ; be gone. \_Exit Mess. 
 
 JC Leic. But, Warwick, thou. 
 
ScKNK III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 281 
 
 And Oxford, with five thousand men, 
 
 Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle : 
 
 And, as occasion serves, this noble queen 
 
 And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. 
 
 Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt ; 
 
 What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty I 
 
 Wa7\ This shall assure my constant loyalty : 
 That if our queen and this young prince agree, 
 I '11 join mine eldest daughter, and m.y jo}''. 
 To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. 
 
 Q. Ma?'. Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion : 
 Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous. 
 Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick ; 
 And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, 
 That only W^arwick's daughter shall be thine. 
 
 Prhice. Yes, I accept her, for slie well deserves it; 
 And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand. 
 
 [lie gives his hand to Warwick. 
 
 K, Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers shall 
 be levied, 
 
 And thou, lord Bourbon, our high admiral, 
 Shall waft them over with our royal fleet. 
 I long till Edward fall by war's mischance, 
 For mocking marriage with a dame of France. 
 
 [Exeunt all but Warwick. 
 War. I came from Edward as ambassador, 
 But I return his sworn and mortal foe : 
 Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, 
 But dreadful war shall answer his demand. 
 Had he none else to make a stale* but me? 
 Tiien none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. 
 I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown, 
 And I '11 be chief to bring him down again : 
 Not that I pity Henry's misery. 
 
 But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. [ Exit 
 
 Stale — stalking-liovsc. 
 
282 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act IV. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE I. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Clarence, Somerset, Montague, 
 and others. 
 
 Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you 
 Of this new marriage with the lady Grey ? 
 Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ? 
 
 Clar. Alas, you know, 't is far from hence to France ; 
 How could he stay till Warwick made return ? 
 
 Som. My lords, forbear this talk ; here comes the king. 
 
 Flourish. Enter King Edward, attended; Lady 
 Grey, as Quee7i ; Pembroke, Stafford, Has- 
 tings, a7id others. 
 
 Glo. And his well-chosen bride. 
 Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I think. 
 K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our 
 choice. 
 
 That you stand pensive, as half malcontent % 
 
 Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl of 
 Warwick ; 
 
 Which are so weak of courage and in judgment. 
 That they '11 take no offence at our abuse. 
 
 K. Edw. Suppose they take offence without a cause, 
 They are but Lewis and Warwick ; I am Edward, 
 Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will. 
 
 Glo. And you shall have your will, because our king; 
 Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. 
 
 K. Edio. Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too ? 
 
 Glo, Not 1 : no. 
 God forbid that I should wish them sever'd 
 Whom God hath join'd together : ay, and 't were pify 
 To sunder them that yoke so well together. 
 
Scene I.J KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 28n 
 
 K. Edio. Setting your scorns and your mislike 
 Tell me some reason, why the lady Grey 
 Should not become my wife, and England's queen i 
 And you too, Somerset and Montague, 
 Speak freely what you think. 
 
 Clar. Then this is my opinion, that king Lewis 
 Becomes your enemy, for mocking him 
 About the marriage of the lady Bona. 
 
 Glo. And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge. 
 Is now dishonoured by this new marriage. 
 
 K, Edw. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be ap- 
 peas'd 
 
 By such invention as I can devise ? 
 
 Mont. Yet, to have join'd with France in such al liance, 
 Would more have strengthened this our commonwealth 
 'Gainst foreign stonns, than any home-bred marriage. 
 
 Hast Why, knows not Montague that of itself 
 England is safe, if true within itself ? 
 
 Mont. Yes, but the safer when it is back'd with 
 France. 
 
 Hast. 'T is better using France than trusting France : 
 Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas, 
 Which he hath given for fence impregnable, 
 And with their helps only defend ourselves.; 
 In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies. 
 
 Clar. For this one speech, lord Hastings v/ell deserves 
 To have the heir of the lord Hungerford. 
 
 K. Edw. Ay, what of that? it was my will and grant ] 
 And, for this once, my will shall stand for law. 
 
 Glo. And yet, methinks, your grace hath not done well 
 To give the heir and daughter of lord Scales 
 Unto the brother of your loving bride ; 
 She better would have fitted me, or Clarence : 
 But in your bride you bury brotherhood. 
 
 Clar. Or else you would not have beslow'd the heir 
 Of the lord Bonville on your new v/ife's son, 
 And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. 
 
2Hi KING IIKNRY VI.— PART III. [Act IV. 
 
 K, Edw, Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a v/ife 
 That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. 
 
 Cla7\ In choosing for yourself you shov.''d your judg- 
 ment ; 
 
 Which being shallo';7, you shall give me leave 
 To play the broker in mine own belialf ; 
 And, to that end, I shortly mind to leave you. 
 
 K. Edw, Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be kinj;, 
 And not be tied unto his brother's will. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My lords, before It pleas'd his majesty 
 To raise my state to title of a queen, 
 Do me but right, and you must all confess 
 That I was not ignoble of descent, 
 And meaner than myself liave had like fortune. 
 But as this title hono)us me and mine, 
 So your dislikes, to wliom 1 would be pleasing. 
 Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow. 
 
 K. Edio. My love, forbear to ftiwn upon their frowns: 
 What danger or what sorrow can befall thee, 
 So long as Edward is thy constant friend, 
 And their true sovereign, whom they must obey ? 
 Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, 
 Unless they seek lor hatred at my hands : 
 Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, 
 And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. 
 
 Glo, I hear, yet say not much, but think the more. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 K. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters or what news 
 From France ? 
 
 Mess. My sovereign liege, no letters ; and few words, 
 But such as I, without your special pardon. 
 Dare not relate. 
 
 K. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee : therefore, in brief, 
 Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. 
 Wliat answer makes king Lev/is unto our lettered 
 
SoKNKl.] KING liEMiY VI.— PART III. 
 
 Mess, At my depart, these were his very words : 
 " Go tell ialse Edward, thy supi)osed Iving, 
 That Lewis of France is sending over maskers 
 To revel it witli him and his new bride." 
 
 K. Echo. Is Lewis so brave? belike he thinks ine 
 Henry. 
 
 But what said lady Bona to my marriage? 
 
 Mess. These v/ere her words, utter'd with mild dis- 
 dain : 
 
 " Tell him, in hoy)e he '11 prove a widower shortly, 
 I '11 wear the willow garland tor his sake." 
 
 K. Edw. I blame not her, slie could say little less ; 
 She had tlie wrong. But wliat said Henry s queen I 
 For I have lieard that she was there in place.'* 
 
 Mess. "Tell him," quoth she, "my mourning weeds 
 are done, 
 
 And I am ready to put armour on." 
 
 K. Edw. Belike she minds to play the Amazon, 
 But what said Warwick to these injuries? 
 
 Mess. He, more incens'd against your majesty 
 Tiian all the rest, disc1iarg"d me with these words : 
 " Tell him from me, that he 1>ath done me wrong, 
 And therefore I '11 uncrown him ere 't be long.'' 
 
 K. Edw. Ha! durst tlie traitor breathe out so pioud 
 words ? 
 
 Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd : 
 
 They shall liave wars, and pay for their presumption. 
 
 But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret ? 
 
 Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign ; they are so link"d in 
 friendsliip 
 
 Tliat young prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. 
 Clar. Belike, tlie elder ; Clarence will have tlie 
 younger. 
 
 Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast. 
 For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter ; 
 That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage 
 In pl(icc—i\ni\ Q piesfiii. 
 
«86 KING HENRY VI.-PART III. [Aci IV. 
 
 I may not prove inferior to yourself. 
 
 You that love me and WarwicK, follow me. 
 
 \_Exit Clarence, and Somerset follows. 
 
 Glo. Not 1. 
 My thoughts aim at a further matter ; 
 I stay not for love of Edward, but, the crown. \_Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick f 
 Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen ; 
 And haste is needful in this desperate case. 
 Pembroke, and Stafford, you in our behalf 
 Go levy men, and make prepare for war. 
 They are alread}'-, or quickly will be landed : 
 Myself in person will straight follow you. 
 
 [Exeunt Pembroke and Stafford. 
 But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague, 
 Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, 
 Are near to Warv/ick by blood, and by alliance : 
 Tell me, if you love Warwick more than me ? 
 If it be so, then both depart to him ; 
 I rather wish you foes than hollow friends ; 
 But if you mind to hold your true obedience, 
 Give me assurance with some friendly vow. 
 That I may never have you in suspect. 
 
 Mont. So God help Montague, as he proves true ! 
 
 Hast. And Hastings, as he favours Edward's cause ! 
 
 K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us ? 
 
 Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. 
 
 K. Edio. Why so ; then am I sure of victory. 
 Now therefore let us hence; and lose no hour. 
 Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.—^ Plain in Warwickshire. 
 
 ^w^er Warwick and Oxford, w^V7i French and other 
 Forces. 
 
 War. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well ; 
 The common people by numbers swarm to us. 
 
Scene III.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 287 
 
 Enter Clarence and Somerset. 
 
 But, see, where Somerset and Clarence come ; 
 Speak suddenly, my lords ; are we all friends ? 
 Cla7\ Fear not that, my lord. 
 
 PFar, Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick ; 
 And welcome, Somerset : I hold it cowardice, 
 To rest mistrustful where a noble heart 
 Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love ; 
 Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, 
 Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings : 
 But welcome, sweet Clarence ; my daughter shall be 
 thine. 
 
 And now what rests, but, in night's coverture, 
 
 Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd. 
 
 His soldiers lurking in the towns about, 
 
 And but attended by a simple guard, 
 
 We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? 
 
 Our scouts have found the adventure very easy : 
 
 That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede, 
 
 With slight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents. 
 
 And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds : 
 
 So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle. 
 
 At unawares may beat down Edward's guard. 
 
 And seize himself : I say not, slaughter him. 
 
 For I intend but only to surprise him. 
 
 You that will follow me to this attempt 
 
 Applaud the name of Henry, with your leader. 
 
 [They all cry Henry ! 
 Why, then, let 's on our way in silent sort : 
 For Warwick and his friends, God and St. George ! 
 
 \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. — Edward'5 Camp 7iear Warwick. 
 
 Enter cet^fain Watchmen, to guard the King's tent 
 
 1 Watch. Come on, my masters, each man take his 
 stand ; 
 
28S ]vING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act IV. 
 
 The king, by tlils, is set. him down to sleep. 
 2 Watch. Wliat, will he not to bed ? 
 
 1 Watch. Wliy, no : for he hath made a solemn vow 
 Never to lie and take his natural rest 
 
 Till Warwick, or himself, be quite suppress'd. 
 
 2 PVatch. To-morrow then, belike, shall be the day, 
 If Warwick be so near as men report. 
 
 3 Watch. But say, I pray, what nobleman is that 
 That with the king here resteth in his tent? 
 
 1 Watch. 'T is the lord Hastings, the king's chiefest 
 
 friend. 
 
 3 Watch. O, is it so ? But why commands the king 
 That his chief followers lodge in towns about him. 
 While he himself keepeth in the cold field? 
 
 2 Watch. 'T is the more honour, because more dan- 
 
 gerous. 
 
 3 Watch. Ay ; but give me worship, and quietness, 
 I like it better than a dangerous honour. 
 
 If W arwick knew in what estate he stands, 
 'T is to be doubted he would waken him. 
 
 1 Watch. Unless our halberds did shut up his pas- 
 
 sage. 
 
 2 Watch. Ay; wherefore else guard we 1 lis royal tent, 
 But to defend liis person from night-foes ? 
 
 Enter Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, 
 and Forces, 
 
 War. This is his tent; and see, where stands liis 
 guard. 
 
 Courage, my masters : honour now, or never ! 
 But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. 
 
 1 Watch. Who goes there ? 
 
 2 Watch. Stay, or Ihou diest. 
 
 [Warw^ick, and the rest, cry all— Warwick ! 
 Warwick ! and set upon the Guard ; icJio fly, 
 crying — Arm! Arm! Warwick, and the 
 rest, folloioing them. 
 
ScKN'E III.j KING HENRY VI.— PART 111. 
 
 28!) 
 
 The drum heating, and trumpets sowiding, re-enter 
 Warwick, and the rest, bringing the King out in 
 a gown^ sitting in a chair : Gloster aiid Hastings 
 
 Som. What are tliey that fly there ? 
 
 War. Richard and Hastings : let them go, here is 
 the duke. 
 
 A'. Edtv. The duke ! why, Warwick, when we parted 
 last, 
 
 Thou cairdst me king. 
 
 War. Ay, but tlie case is altor'd : 
 
 When you disgrac'd me in my ambassade, 
 Then I degraded you from being king, 
 And come now to create you duke of York. 
 Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom, 
 That know not how to use ambassadors ; 
 Nor how to be contented with one wife ; 
 Nor liow to use your brothers brotherly ; 
 Nor how to study for tlie people's welfare ; 
 Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies 1? 
 
 K. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here too ? 
 Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down. 
 Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, 
 Of thee thyself, and all thy complices, 
 Edward will always bear himself as king : 
 Though fortune "s malice overthrow my state, 
 My mind exceeds the comipass of her wheel. 
 
 War. Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king : 
 [^Takes ojf his crown. 
 But Henry now shall wear the English crown, 
 And be true king indeed ; thou but the sliadow. 
 My lord of Somerset, at my request, 
 See that forthwith duke Edward be conveyM 
 Unto my brother, archbishop of York. 
 When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, 
 I '11 follow you, and tell what answer 
 
293 KING HENRY VI.-PART III. {Ac-i IV. 
 
 Lewis, and the lady Bona, send to him : 
 Now, for a while, farewell, good duke of York. 
 
 K. Edw. What fates impose, that men must needs 
 abide ; 
 
 It boots not to resist both wind and tide. 
 [Exit King Edward, led out; Somerset with him. 
 
 Oxf. What now remains, my lords, for us to do. 
 But march to London with our soldiers ? 
 
 War. Ay, that 's the first thing that we have to do ; 
 To free king Henry from imprisonment, 
 And see him seated in the regal throne. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth and Rivers. 
 
 JRiv. Madam, what makes you in this sudden chango ? 
 Q. Eliz. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn 
 What late misfortune is befall 'n king Edward ? 
 
 JRiv. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against War- 
 wick? 
 
 Q. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royal person. 
 
 Riv. Then is my sovereign slain ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner ; 
 Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard, 
 Or by his foe surprised at unawares : 
 And, as I further have to understand, 
 Is new committed to the bishop of York, 
 Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe. 
 
 Riv. These news, I must confess, are full of grief : 
 Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may ; 
 Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Till then, fair hope must hinder life's decay. 
 And I the rather wean me from despair. 
 For love of Edward's offspring in my womb : 
 This is it that makes me bridle passion. 
 And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross ; 
 Ay, ay, for this I draw in m.any a tear, 
 
SciiNE v.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 29i 
 
 And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, 
 
 Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown 
 
 King Edward's fruit, true heir to the Englisli crown. 
 
 Riv. But, madam, where is Warwick then become ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. I am informed that he comes towarcis 
 London, 
 
 To set the crown once more on Henry's head : 
 
 Guess thou the rest ; king Edward's friends must down. 
 
 But, to prevent the tyrant's violence, 
 
 (For trust not him that hath once broken faith^) 
 
 I ']1 hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, 
 
 To save at least the heir of Edward's right ; 
 
 There shall I rest secure from force and fraud. 
 
 Come therefore, let us fly, while we may fly ; 
 
 If Warwick take us we are sure to die. f Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE v.— ^ Park near Middleham Cattle in 
 Yorkshire. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Hastings, Sir William Stanley, 
 and others. 
 
 Glo. Now, my lord Hastings, and sir William 
 Stanley, 
 
 Leave ofl^ to wonder why I drew you hither. 
 
 Into this chiefest thicket of the park. 
 
 Thus stands the case : You know our king, my brother, 
 
 Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands 
 
 He hath good usage and great liberty ; 
 
 And often, but attended with weak guard. 
 
 Comes hunting this way to disport himself. 
 
 I have advertis'd him by secret means, 
 
 That if, about this hour, he make this way, 
 
 Under the colour of his usual game, 
 
 He shall here find his friends, with horse and men, 
 
 To set him free from his captivity. 
 
 Enter King Edward, and a Himtsman. 
 Hunt This way, my lord ; for this way lies the game. 
 
292 
 
 KING HENRY VI.-PAllT III. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 A''. Edw. Nay, this way, man; see where the huiils- 
 meii stand. 
 
 Nov7, brother of Gloster, lord Hastings, and tlie rest, 
 Stand you tiius close to steal the bishop's deer ? 
 
 Glo. Brother, the time and case requireth haste j 
 Your horse stands ready at the park corner. 
 
 K. Edw. But whither shall we then ? 
 
 Ilast. To Lynn, my lord ; and ship from thence to 
 Flanders. 
 
 Glo. Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my 
 meaning. 
 
 K, Ediv. Stanley, I will requite tliy forwardness. 
 Glo. But wlierefore stay we t is no time to talk. 
 K. Edw. Huntsman, what say'st thou? wilt thou go 
 along ? 
 
 Hunt. Better do so than tarry and be hang'd. 
 Glo. Come then, away ; let "s have no more ado. 
 K. Ediv. Bishop, farewell : shield thee from War- 
 wick's frown ; 
 
 And pray that I may repossess the crown. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI.— ^ Room in the Tower. * 
 
 Enter King Henry, Clarence, Warwick, Som]'ii- 
 SET, young Richmond, Oxford, Montague, 
 Lieutenant of the Tower, and Attendants. 
 
 K. Hen. Master lieutenant, now that God and friends 
 Have shaken Edward from the regal sear, 
 And turn'd my captive state to lil)erty. 
 My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, 
 At our enlargement wiiat are thy due fees ? 
 
 Lieu. Subjects m.ay challenge nothing of their sove- 
 reigns ; 
 
 But, if an humble prayer may prevail, 
 I tlien crave j)ardon of your majesty. 
 
 K. Hen. For what, lieutenant? for well using me? 
 Nay, be thou sure, I '11 well requite thy kindness, 
 
SciiNE VI.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 293 
 
 For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure : 
 
 Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds 
 
 Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts. 
 
 At last, by notes of household harmony, 
 
 They quite forget their loss of liberty. 
 
 But, W arwick, after God, thou sett'st me free, 
 
 And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee ; 
 
 He was the author, thou the instrument. 
 
 Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite, 
 
 By living low where fortune cannot hurt me ; 
 
 And that the people of this blessed land 
 
 May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars ; 
 
 Warwick, although my head still wear the crowiij 
 
 I here resign my government to thee, 
 
 For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds. 
 
 War. Your grace haih still been fam'd for virtuous ; 
 And now may seem as wise as virtuous, 
 By spying and avoiding fortune's malice, 
 For few men rightly temper with the stars : 
 Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, 
 For choosing me, v/hen Clarence is in place. 
 
 Cla7\ No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the SM'ay, 
 To whom the Heavens, in thy nativity, 
 Adjudg'd an olive-branch, and laurel crown. 
 As likely to be bless'd in peace, and war ; 
 And therefore I yield thee my free consent. 
 
 War, And I choose Clarence only for protector. 
 
 Ji. Hen. Warwick and Clarence, give me both your 
 hands ; 
 
 Now join your hand?, and with your hands your hearts, 
 
 That no dissention hinder government : 
 
 I make you both protectors of this land ; 
 
 While I myself will lead a private life, 
 
 And in devotion spend my latter days, 
 
 To sin's rebuke, and my Creatoi-'s praise. 
 
 War. What answers Clarence to his sovereign's 
 will? 
 
 VOL. VI. X 
 
2£4 KING HKNRY Vl.— PART III. [Act iV. 
 
 Clar. That he consents, if Warwick yield consent ; 
 For on thy fortune I repose myself. 
 
 War. Why, then, though loth, yet must I be content : 
 We '11 yoke together, like a double shadow 
 To Henry's body, and supply his place ; 
 I mean, in bearing weight of government. 
 While he enjoys the honour, and his ease. 
 And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful, 
 Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor, 
 Axidi all his lands and goods be confiscate. 
 
 Clar. What else ? and that succession be determin'd. 
 
 War. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part. 
 
 K. Hen, But, with the first of all your chief affairs, 
 Let me entreat (for I command no more) 
 That Margaret your queen, and my son Edward, 
 Be sent for, to return from France with speed : 
 For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear 
 My joy of liberty is half eclips'd. 
 
 Clar. It shall be done, my sovereign, v/ith all speed. 
 
 K. Hen. My lord of Somerset, what youth is that. 
 Of whom you seem to have so tender care ? 
 
 Som. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Richmond. 
 
 K. Hen. Come hither, England's hope : If seci el 
 powers [Lays Ids hand on his hcacL 
 
 Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, 
 This pretty lad will prove our coimtry's bliss. 
 His looks are full of peaceful majesty. 
 His head by nature fram'd to wear a crov/n. 
 His hand to wield a sceptre j and himself 
 Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne. 
 Make much of him, my lords ; for this is he 
 Must help you more than you are hurt by me. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 War. What news, my friend? 
 Mess. That Edward is esca])ed from your brother, 
 And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. 
 
ScKKE VII.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 War. Unsavoury news : But how made he escape? 
 
 Mess. He was convey'd by Richard duke of Gloster, 
 And the lord Hastings, who attended him^ 
 In secret ambush on the forest side, 
 And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him ; 
 For hunting was his daily exercise. 
 
 Wa7\ My brother was too careless of liis charge. 
 But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide 
 A salve for any sore that may betide. 
 
 [^Ex7it. K. Hen., War., Clar., Lieut., a7id Attmdz. 
 
 Som. My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward s : 
 For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help; 
 And we shall have more wars before 't be long. 
 As Henry's late presaging prophecy 
 Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond ; 
 So doth my heart misgive me, in these conllicts 
 What may befall him, to his harm and ours : 
 Therefore, lord Oxford, to prevent the worst. 
 Forthwith v/e '11 send him hence to Brittany, 
 Till storms be past of civil enmity. 
 
 Oxf. Ay ; for if Edward repossess the crown, 
 'T is like that Richmond with the rest shall down. 
 
 Som. It shall be so ; he shall to Brittany. 
 Come, therefore, let 's about it speedily. [ Exeunt 
 
 SCENE Yll.--Before York. 
 
 Enter King Edward, Gloster, Hastings, and 
 Forces. 
 
 K. EdW: Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings, and 
 the rest, 
 
 Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends. 
 And says, that once more I shall interchange 
 My waned state for Henry's regal crown. 
 Well have we pass'd, and now repass'd the seas, 
 And brought desired help from Burgundy ; 
 
 ^ Attended him — waited for him. 
 
 X 2 
 
2y() KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act 1 
 
 What then remains, we being tlius arriv'd 
 From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of York, 
 But that we enter as into our dukedom ? 
 
 Glo. The gates made fast! — Brother, I like not this ; 
 For many men that stumble at the threshold 
 Are well foretold that danger lurks within. 
 
 K. Echo. Tush, ma,n! abodements must not now 
 aifright us : 
 By fair or foul means we must enter in, 
 For hither will our friends repair to us. 
 
 Hast. My liege, I 11 knock once more to summon 
 them. 
 
 Enter on the loalls the Mayor q/York, and his brethren. 
 
 May. My lords, we were forewarned of your coming, 
 And simt the gates for safety of ourselves ; 
 For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. 
 
 K. Edio. But, master mayor, if Henry be your king, 
 Yet Edward, at the least, is duke of York. 
 
 May. True, my good lord ; I know you for no less. 
 
 K. Ed'W. Why, and I challenge nodiing but my 
 dukedom, 
 As being well content with that alone. 
 
 Glo. But when the fox hath once got in his nose, 
 He '11 soon tind means to make the body follow. \^Aside. 
 
 Hast. Why, master mayor, why stand you in a 
 doubt? 
 
 Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends. 
 
 May. Ay, say you so 'I the gates shall then be open'd. 
 
 \Exennt from above. 
 Glo. A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded ! 
 Hast, The good old man would fain that all were 
 well, 
 
 So 't were not 'long of him : but, being enterM, 
 I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade 
 Both him and all his brothers unto reason, 
 
ScKNi: Vll.j KING HEiNKY VL— I>A11T ill. 
 
 2U7 
 
 Fc-enter the Mayor, aiid tico Aldenneiij hcloio. 
 
 K. Edio. So, master mayor : these gates must not be 
 shut. 
 
 But in the night, or in the time of war. 
 
 What ! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys ; 
 
 [ Takes his keys. 
 For Edward will defend the town, and thee, 
 And all those friends that deign to follow nie. 
 
 I)ru7n. Enter Montgomery, and Forces, onarching. 
 
 Glo. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery, 
 Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd. 
 
 K. Edio. Welcome, sir John ! But why come you in 
 arms ? 
 
 Mont. To help king Edward in his time of storm. 
 As every loyal subject ought to do. 
 
 K. Edio. Thanks, good Montgomery : But Ave now 
 forget 
 
 Our title to the croAvn ; and only claim 
 
 Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest. 
 
 Mont. Then fare you Avell, for I will hence again ; 
 I came to serve a king, and not a duke. 
 Drummer, strike up, and let us march av/ay. 
 
 \A march begun. 
 
 K. Edio. Nay, stay, sir John, awhile; and we '11 
 debate 
 
 By what safe means the crown may be recovered. 
 
 Mont. What talk you of debating ? in few words, 
 If you '11 not here proclaim yourself our king 
 I '11 leave you to your fortune ; and be gone, 
 To keep them back that come to succour you : 
 Why should we figlit if you pretend no title ? 
 
 Glo. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice; points? 
 
 K. Ediv. When we grow stronger, then we '11 make 
 our claim : 
 
 Till then, 't is wisdom to conceal our meaning. 
 
 Ilast. Away v/ith scrupulous wit. J now amis must ndc. 
 
298 
 
 KING HENKY VI.— PART III. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Glo» And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. 
 Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand ; 
 The bruit ^ thereof will bring you many friends. 
 
 K. Edio. Then be it as you will : for 't is my rights 
 And Henry but usurps the diadem. 
 
 Mont. Ay, now my sovereign speaketli like himself; 
 And now will I be Edward's champion. 
 
 Hast. Sound, trumpet; Edward shall be here pro- 
 claim'd : 
 
 Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation. 
 
 [^Gives him a paper. Flourish. 
 Sold. l^Reads.'] " Edward the fourth, by the grace of 
 God, king of England and France, and lord of Ire- 
 land," &c. 
 
 Mont. And whosoe'er gainsays king Edward's right, 
 By this I challenge him to single fight. 
 
 [Thy'oios dawn his gauntlet. 
 
 All. Long live Edward the fourth ! 
 
 K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery ; — and thanks 
 unto you all. 
 If fortune serve me I '11 requite this kindness. 
 Nov/j for this night, let 's harbour here in York : 
 And, when the morning sun shall raise his car 
 Above the border of this horizon, 
 We "11 forward towards Warwick, and his mates ; 
 For, well I wot that Henry is no soldier. 
 Ah, froward Clarence ! — how evil it beseems thee 
 To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother 1 
 Ye(:, as we may, we '11 meet both thee and Wai-wick. 
 Come on, brave soldiers ; doubt not of the day ; 
 And that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. [JExeuni. 
 
 SCENE VIII. — London. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 E7iter King Henry, Warwick, Clarence, Mon- 
 tague, Exeter, and Oxford. 
 War. What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, 
 ^ Bruit — report. 
 
ScENK Vlil.] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 299 
 
 With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders, 
 Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas. 
 And with his troops doth march amain to London; 
 And many giddy people flock to him. 
 
 Oxf. Let 's levy men, and beat him back again. 
 
 Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out ; 
 Which, being suffer' d, rivers cannot quench. 
 
 War. In Warv/icksliire I have true-hearted friends, 
 Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war ; 
 Those will I muster up : and thou, son Clarence, 
 Shall stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, 
 The knights and gentlemen to ccme with thee : 
 Tliou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, 
 Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find 
 Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st : 
 And thou, brave Oxford, v/ondrous well belovYl, 
 In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends. 
 My sovereign, with the loving citizens, 
 Like to his island girt in with the ocean. 
 Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs. 
 Shall rest in London, till we come to him. 
 Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply. 
 Farewell, my sovereign. 
 
 K. Hen, Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true hope. 
 
 Clar. In sign of truth I kiss your highness' hand. 
 
 K. Hen. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate. 
 
 Mont. Comfort, my lord ; — and so I take my leave. 
 
 Oxf. And thus \kissi7ig Henry's hand'] I seal my 
 truth, and bid adieu. 
 
 K. Hen, Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, 
 And all at once, once more a happy fare\vell. 
 
 War. Farewell, sweet lords ; let's meet at Coventry. 
 
 [Exeunt War., Clar., Oxf., and Momt. 
 
 K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest a wiiile. 
 Cousin of Exeter, wiiat tliinks your lordship ? 
 Methinks the po'.ver that Edvvard hath in field 
 Sliould not lie able to encounter mine. 
 
300 
 
 Kl^G HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act IV. 
 
 Exe. The doubt is that he will seduce the rest. 
 K. Hen. That 's not my fear, my meed hath got me 
 fame. 
 
 I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, 
 Nor posted off their suits with slow delays : 
 My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, 
 My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, 
 My mercy dried tlieir water-flowing tears : 
 I have not been desirous of their wealth, 
 Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies. 
 Nor forward of revenge, though they much err\l ; 
 Then why should they love Edward more than me ? 
 No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace: 
 And when tlje lion fawns upon the lamb, 
 The lamb will never cease to follow him. 
 
 [Shout icithin. A Lancaster ! A Lancaster ! 
 Exe. Hark, hark, my lord ! what shouts are these ? 
 
 E7iter King Edward, Gloster, and Soldiers. 
 
 K. Edio. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear ]nm 
 hence. 
 
 And once again proclaim us king of England. 
 You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow ; 
 Now stops thy spring ; my sea shall suck them dry, 
 And swell so much the higher by their ebb. 
 Hence with him to the Tower ; let him not speak. 
 
 \Exeunt some loith King Henry 
 And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, 
 Where peremptory Warv/ick now remains : 
 The sun shines liot, and if we use delay 
 Cold-biting v/inter mars our hop\l-for hay. 
 
 Glo. Aw ay betimes, before his forces join, 
 And take the great-grown traitor unawares : 
 Brave warriors, marcli amain towards Coventry. 
 
 \Excuni 
 
SctNEi.] KISG I11::MIY VI.— PART III. 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I.— Coventry. 
 
 Enter, upon the zcalls, Warwick, the Mayor of Co- 
 ventry, Tzoo Messengers, and others. 
 War. Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford ? 
 How fiar hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow ? 
 
 1 Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. 
 War. How far off is our brotlier Montague ? 
 
 Where is the post that came from Montague 
 
 2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. 
 
 E7iter Sir John Somervilt.e. 
 War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son ? 
 And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence nov/ ? 
 
 So7n. At Southam I did leave him v/ith his forces, 
 And do expect him here some two hours hence. 
 
 [Drtcm heard. 
 War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum. 
 So?n. It is not his, my lord ; here Southam lies ; 
 Tlie drum your lionour hears marcheth from Warwick. 
 War. Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends. 
 So7n. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know. 
 Dnwis. Enter King Edward, Gloster, a7id Forces^ 
 marching. 
 
 K. Edio. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a paiie. 
 
 Glo. See, how the surly Warwick mans the wall. 
 
 War. O, unbid spite ! is sportful Edward come ? 
 Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd, 
 That we could hear no news of his repair ? 
 
 K, Ediv. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, — 
 Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee, — 
 Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy ? — 
 And he sUall pardon thee these outrages. 
 
 War. Nay, ratl ier, wilt tliou draw thy forces hence.— 
 Confess who set lliee up and pluck'd thee down, — 
 
 „ I 
 
302 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act V. 
 
 Call Warwick patron, and be penitent ? — 
 And thou shalt still remain the duke of York. 
 
 Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said the king; 
 Or did he make the jest against his will ? 
 
 War, Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift ? 
 
 Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give ; 
 I '11 do thee service for so good a gift. 
 
 War. 'T was I that gave the kingdom to thy brotlior. 
 
 K. Edic. Why, then 't is mine, if but by Warwick's gift. 
 
 War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight : 
 And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again ; 
 And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. 
 
 K. Edw. But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner : 
 And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this, 
 What is the body when the head is ofl"? 
 
 Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, 
 But whiles he thought to steal the single ten, 
 The king was slily finger'd from the deck 
 You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace, 
 And, ten to one, you '11 meet him in tlie Tower. 
 
 K. Edw. 'T is even so ; yet you are Warwick still. 
 
 Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel dov/n, 
 kneel down : 
 Nay, when ? strike now, or else the iron cools. 
 
 War. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, 
 And with the other fling it at thy face, 
 Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee. 
 
 K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide 
 thy friend ; 
 
 This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, 
 Shall, whiles thy head is warm, and new cut off, 
 Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, — 
 " Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more." 
 
 Enter Oxford, loith drum and colours. 
 War. O cheerful colours ! see, where Oxford comes I 
 ^ Beck. A pack of cards was forinedy called a (Icck. 
 
Scene I.] KING HENRY VL— PART III. 303 
 
 Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster i 
 
 [Oxford and his Forces enter the City. 
 
 Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too. 
 
 K. Edio. So other foes may set upon our backs. 
 Stand we in good array ; for they, no doubt. 
 Will issue out again and bid us battle : 
 If not, the city being but of small defence. 
 We '11 quickly rouse the traitors in the same. 
 
 V/ar. O, welcome, Oxford ! for we want thy help. 
 
 Enter Montague, with drum and colours, 
 Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster ! 
 
 [He and his Forces enter the City. 
 Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason 
 Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. 
 
 K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory : 
 My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest. 
 
 Enter Somerset, with drum and colours. 
 Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster ! 
 
 \_IIe and his Farces enter the City. 
 Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, 
 Have sold their lives unto the house of York ; 
 And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. 
 
 Enter Clarence, with drum and colours 
 
 War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, 
 Of force enough to bid his brother battle ; 
 With whom an upright zeal to right pre\'ails, 
 More than the nature of a brother's love : 
 Come, Clarence, come ; thou wilt if Warwick call. 
 
 Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this means? 
 
 \_TaJdng the red rose out of his caio. 
 Look here, I throw my infamy at thee : 
 I will not ruinate my father's house. 
 Who gave his blood to lime the stones togethei, 
 And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick, 
 That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, 
 To bend the fatal instruments of war 
 
304 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PAIIT III. [Act V. 
 
 Against his brother and his lav/fal king? 
 Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath : 
 To keep that oath were more impiety 
 Thau Jephtha's, when he sacrificed liis daughter. 
 I am so sorry for my trespass made, 
 That, to deserve well at my brother"s hands, 
 I here proclaim myself thy mortal f()e ; 
 With resolution, wheresoever I meet thee, 
 (As I will meet thee if thou stir abroad,) 
 To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. 
 And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee. 
 And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. 
 Pardon me, EdAvard, I will make amends ; 
 And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, 
 For I v/ill henceforth be no more unconstaiu. 
 
 A". Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more 
 belov'd, 
 
 Than if tliou never hadst deserv'd our hate. 
 
 Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like. 
 JVar. O passing traitor, perjur'd, and uDjiist! 
 K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave tiie tov. ii 
 and fight? 
 
 Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears ? 
 
 M ar. Alas ! I am not coop VI here for defence : 
 I will away towards Barnet presentl}^, 
 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. 
 
 [JMarch. Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE U.—A Field of Battle 7iear Barnet. 
 
 Alarwns and Excursions. Enter King Edv/akd, 
 hringing in Warwick, wounded. 
 
 K. Edic. So, lie thou there: die tliou, and die our 
 fear ; 
 
Scene 1L] KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 305 
 
 For Warwick was a bug that fear'cl us all. 
 Now, Montague, sit fast ; I seek for thee, 
 That Warwick's hones may keep thine company. [Exit. 
 
 fVar, Ah, who is nigh ? come to nie Irierid or foe, 
 And tell me who is victor, York, or Wai-wic]^ ? 
 Why ask I that? my mangled body sliows, 
 My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, 
 That I must yield my body to the earth, 
 And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 
 Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, 
 Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle ; 
 Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ; 
 Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree, 
 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 till'd witli blood. 
 Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; 
 For who liv'd king but I could dig his grave ? 
 And who durst smile when Warwick bent liis l)ro^v ? 
 Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood ! 
 My parks, my walks, my manors that I liad, 
 Even now forsake me ; and of all my lands 
 Is nothing left me but my body's length ! 
 W^hy, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust 
 And, live we how we can, yet die v/e must. 
 
 Enter Oxford and Somerset. 
 
 ^>o)n. Ah, Warwick, Warwick ! v/ert thou as we arc. 
 We might recover all our loss again. 
 The queen from France hatii brought a puissant power ; 
 Even now we heard the news : Ah, couldst thou lly ! 
 
 War. Why, then I would not lly. — Ah, Montague, 
 If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, 
 And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile ! 
 Thou lov'st me not ; for, brother, if thou didst. 
 Thy tears wwild wash thJs cold congealed blood 
 
306 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [ Ict V. 
 
 That glues my lips, and will not let me speak. 
 Come, quickly, Montague, or I am dead. 
 
 Som. Ah, Warwick, Montague liath breath'd his last ; 
 And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwiclc, 
 And said, Commend me to my valiant brother. 
 And more he would have said ; and more he spoke. 
 Which sounded like a camion in a vault. 
 That might not be distingidsh'd ; but, at last, 
 I well might hear delivered v/ith a groan, 
 O, farewell, Warwick ! 
 
 Wa7\ Sweet rest to his soul ! — 
 
 Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; for Warwick bids 
 You all farewell, to meet in heaven. [Dies. 
 
 Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great power. 
 
 [Exeunt, bearing off W arwick's bodij. 
 
 SCENE IIL— Another Fart of the Field. 
 Flourish, Enter King Edward, in triumph ; loitlt 
 Clarence, Gloster, aoid the rest. 
 
 K. Edio. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, 
 And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. 
 But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, 
 I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud, 
 That will encounter with our glorious sun. 
 Ere he attain his easeful western bed : 
 I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen 
 Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast. 
 And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. 
 
 Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud. 
 And blow it to the source from whence it came : 
 Thy very beams will dry those vapours up ; 
 For every cloud engenders not a storm. 
 
 Glo. The queen is valued thirty thousand strong. 
 And Somerset, v/ith Oxford, fled to her; 
 If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd 
 Her faction will be full as strong as ours. 
 
 K. Edto. We are advertis'd by our loving friends, 
 That they do hold their course toward ^Pewksbury 5 
 
Scene IV.] KING HENRY VI.-PART III. :jo: 
 
 We, having now the best at Barnet field. 
 
 Will thither straight, for willingness rids way : 
 
 And, as we march, our strength will be augmented 
 
 In every county as we go along. 
 
 Strike up the drum ; cry, Courage ! and away. 
 
 \_Exeimf. 
 
 SCENE YV.— Plains near Tewksbury. 
 
 March. E^iter 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 
 
 Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, 
 
 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, 
 
 Which industry and courage might have sav'dl 
 
 Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this ! 
 
 Say, Warwick was our anchor ; what of that ? 
 
 And Montague our top-mast ; what of him *? 
 
 Our slaughtered 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? 
 
 We will not from the helm, to sit and weep ; 
 
 But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, 
 
 From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wrack. 
 
 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 ? 
 
3j8 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 All these the enemies to our poor bark. 
 
 Say, you can swim ; alas ! 't is but a while 
 
 Tread on the sand ; why, there you quickly sink : 
 
 Bestride the rock ; the tide will wash you olT, 
 
 Or else you famish, that 's a threefold death. 
 
 This speak I, lords, to let you understand, 
 
 If case some one of you would fly from us, 
 
 Tiiat 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 
 
 'T were 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 v/ith 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 anotlier. 
 And make him of like spirit to himself. 
 If any such be here, as God forbid ! 
 Let him depart, belbre we need his help. 
 
 Oxf. Women and children of so high a courage ! 
 And warriors faint ! why, 't were perpetual shame, 
 O, brave young })rince ! thy famous grandfather 
 Dotli live again in thee : Long mayst thou live, 
 To bear his image, and renew his glories ! 
 
 So7n. And he that will not tight tor 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 ; — svv'eet Oxford, 
 thanks. 
 
 Frmce. And take his thanks that yet hath nothing 
 else. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. Prej)are you, lords, for Edward is at liand. 
 Ready to light ; therefore be resolute. 
 
Scene V.] KING HENRY VI.— PART HI. 
 
 309 
 
 Oxf. I thought no less : it is his policy 
 To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. 
 ^om. But he 's deceived, we are in readiness. 
 Q. Mar. This cheers my lieart, to see your forwardness. 
 Ox/. Here pitch our battle ; hence we will not budge. 
 
 March. Enter, at a distance, King Edward, 
 Clarence, Gloster, and Forces. 
 
 K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands tlie thorny 
 wood, 
 
 Which, by the Heavens' assistance, and your strength, 
 Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. 
 I need not add more fuel to your fire. 
 For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out : 
 Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords. 
 
 Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I 
 should say 
 
 My tears gainsay ; for every word I speal:, 
 
 Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. 
 
 Therefore, no more but this : Henry, your sovereign, 
 
 Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd, 
 
 His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain, 
 
 His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ; 
 
 And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. 
 
 You fight in justice ; then, in God's name, lords, 
 
 Be valiant, and give signal to the fight. 
 
 [_Exeiint both armies, 
 
 SCENE V. — Another x^art of the same. 
 
 Alarums: Excursions: and afterwards a retreat. 
 Then enter King Edward, Clarence, Gloster, 
 and Forces ; with Queen Margaret, Oxford, 
 and Somerset, prisoners. 
 
 K, Edio. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils. 
 Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle straight ; 
 For Somerset, off with his guilty head. 
 Go, bear them hence ; I will not hear them speak. 
 
 Oxf For my part, I '11 not trouble thee with words. 
 
 VOL. VI. Y 
 
310 
 
 KING HiiNRY VI.-PART III. [ActV. 
 
 Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune. 
 
 [Exeunt Oxford a7id Somerset, guarded, 
 Q. Mar, So part we sadly in this troublous world, 
 To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. 
 
 K, Edio. Is proclamation made, that who finds 
 Edward 
 
 Shall have a high reward, and he his life ? 
 
 Glo. It is : and lo, where youthful Edward comes. 
 Enter Soldiers, %vith Prince Edward. 
 
 K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear liim speak. 
 What ! can so young a thorn begin to prick ? 
 Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make 
 For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, 
 And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to ? 
 
 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, 
 Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd ! 
 
 Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat, 
 And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. 
 
 Prince. Let ^sop fable in a winter's night ; 
 His currish riddles sort not with this place. 
 
 Glo, By Heaven, brat, I '11 plague you for that word. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. 
 
 Glo, For God's sake, take away this captive scold. 
 
 Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back 
 rather. 
 
 K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or T will charm your tongue 
 
 Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. 
 
 Prince, I know my duty, you are all undutlful : 
 Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, 
 And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all, 
 I am your better, traitors as ye are ; 
 And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. 
 
 K, Edio, Take that, the likeness of tliis railer here. 
 
 \Stahs kirn. 
 
ScLNE v.] KING HENRY PART III. 
 
 311 
 
 Glo. SprawVst thou ? take that, to end thy agony. 
 
 [Glo. stabs him. 
 Clar. And there s for twitting me with perjury, 
 
 [Clar. stahs him. 
 
 Q. Mar. O, kill me too ! 
 
 Glo. Marry, and shall. [Ofers to kill her, 
 
 K. Echo. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too 
 much. 
 
 Glo. Why should she live to fill the world with words ? 
 K. Edw. What ! doth she swoon ? use means for her 
 recovery. 
 
 Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother; 
 1 11 hence to London on a serious matter : 
 Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. 
 
 Clar, What? what? 
 
 Glo. The Tower ! the Tower ! [Exit. 
 
 Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy ! 
 Canst thou not speak? — O traitors ! murtherers ! — ■ 
 They that stabb'd Caesar 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 murtherer, 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 I 
 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. 
 As, deathsmen ! you have rid this sweet young prince ! 
 K. Edw. Away with her ; go, bear her hence perlbrce. 
 Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here ; 
 Here sheathe thy sword, I '11 pardon thee my death : 
 What ! wilt thou not ? — then, Clarence, do it thou. 
 
 Y 2 
 
312 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 [Act V 
 
 Clar. By Heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. 
 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 : 
 'T was sin before, but now 't is charity. 
 What ! wilt thou not ? Where is that devil's butcher, 
 Richard, 
 
 Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? 
 Thou art not here : Murther is thy alms-deed ; 
 Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back. 
 
 K. Edio. Away, I say ; I charge ye, bear her hence. 
 
 Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince ! 
 
 \_Exit, led out forcibly. 
 
 K. Edio. Where 's Richard gone? 
 
 Clar. To London, all in post ; and, as I guess, 
 To make a bloody supper in the Tower. 
 
 K. Edio. He 's sudden, if a tiling comes in his head. 
 Now march we hence : discharge the common sort 
 With pay and thanks, and let s away to London, 
 And see our gentle queen how well she fares : 
 By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. — London. A Room in the Tower. 
 King Henry is discovered sitting, with a book in his 
 hand; the Lieutenant attending. Enter Gi.oster. 
 Glo. Good day, my lord ! What, at your book so 
 hard ? 
 
 K. Ken. Ay, my good lord : My lord, I should say, 
 rather : 
 
 'T is sin to flatter, good was little better : 
 Good Gloster and good devil were alike. 
 And both preposterous ; therefore, not good lord. 
 
 Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves : we must confer. 
 
 \Exit Lieutenant. 
 
 K. Tien. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf: 
 So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, 
 
ScbneVI.] king henry VI.— part in 313 
 
 And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. 
 What scene of deatli hath Roscius now to act"? 
 
 Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind ; 
 The thief doth fear each bush an officer. 
 
 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 killM. 
 
 Glo. 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 di own'd \ 
 
 K. Hen. I, Daedalus ; my poor boy, Icarus ; 
 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 lifeY 
 
 Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner ? 
 
 K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art ; 
 If murthering innocents be executing. 
 Why, then thou art an executioner. 
 
 Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. 
 
 K. Hen, Hadst thou been kill'd when ffist 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, — 
 Meii for their sons', wives for their luisbands', 
 And orphans for their parents' timeless death,''^ — • 
 
 ^ We point this passage in the belief that " timeless dcatli ' 
 is connected not only with jmrcnts\ but with hrsbands' iv\(l 
 sons'. 
 
314 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 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 tempests 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 mothers hope ; 
 
 To wit, an indigest deformed lump, 
 
 Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 
 
 Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born, 
 
 To signify thou cam'st to bite the world : 
 
 And, if the rest be true which I have heard. 
 
 Thou cam'st — 
 
 Glo. I '11 hear no more : — Die, prophet, in thy speech : 
 
 [_Stahs him. 
 
 For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. 
 
 K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. 
 
 0 God ! forgive my sins, and pardon thee ! \_Dies. 
 Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster 
 
 Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have mounted. 
 See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! 
 
 0, may such purple tears be always shed 
 From those that wish the downfal of our house ! 
 If any spark of life be yet remaining, 
 
 Down, down to hell ; and say I sent thee thither, — 
 
 \_Stabs him again. 
 
 1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. 
 Indeed, 't is true that Henry told me of; 
 For I have often heard my mother say 
 
 1 came into the world with my legs forward : 
 Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, 
 And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? 
 The midwife wonder'd : and the women cried, 
 " O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth ! " 
 And so I was ; which plainly signified 
 
 That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. 
 Tlien, since the Heavens have shap'd my body so, 
 
Scene VII.] KING HENRY VI.— PAllT III. 
 
 315 
 
 Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. 
 
 I have no brother, 1 am like no brother : 
 
 And this word love, which greybeards call divine, 
 
 Be resident in men like one another, 
 
 And not in me ; I am myself alone. 
 
 Clarence, beware ; thou keep'st me from the light ; 
 
 But I will sort a pitchy day for thee : 
 
 For I will buzz abroad such ])rophecies, 
 
 That Edward shall be fearful of his life ; 
 
 And then, to purge his fear, I '11 be thy death. 
 
 King Henry and the prince his son are gone : 
 
 Clarence, thy turn is next, and then tne rest, 
 
 Counting myself but bad till I be best. 
 
 1 11 throw thy body in another room. 
 
 And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. \_Exit. 
 
 SCENE VII. — The same. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 King Edward is discovered sitting on his throne; 
 Queen Elizabeth, with the infant Prince, Cla- 
 rence, Gloster, Hastings, and others, near him. 
 
 K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal 
 throne, 
 
 Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies. 
 
 What valiant foemen, like to auttmm s corn. 
 
 Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride ! 
 
 Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd 
 
 For hardy and undoubted champions : 
 
 Two Cliffords, as the father and the son ; 
 
 And two Northumberlands : two braver men 
 
 Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound : 
 
 With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, 
 
 That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion, 
 
 And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. 
 
 Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat. 
 
 And made our footstool of security. 
 
 Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy : 
 
 Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself 
 
316 
 
 KING HENRY VI.— PART III. [Act V. 
 
 Have in our armours watch'd the winter's niglit ; 
 Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, 
 That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace ; 
 And of our labours tliou shalt reap the gain. 
 
 Glo. I '11 blast his harvest, if your head were laid ; 
 For yet I am not look'd on in the world. 
 This shoulder was ordainVl so thick to heave ; 
 And heave it shall some weight, or break my back : 
 Work thou the way, and thou shalt execute. \^Asidc. 
 
 K. Edio. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely queen, 
 And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. 
 
 Clar. The duty that I owe unto your majesty 
 I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. 
 
 K. Echo, Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, 
 thanks. 
 
 Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou 
 sprang'st. 
 
 Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit : 
 
 To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master ; 
 
 And cried — All hail ! when as he meant — all harm. 
 
 \^Aside. 
 
 K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights. 
 Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves. 
 
 Clar. What will your grace have done with Margaret 
 Reignier, her father, to the king of France 
 Haith pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, 
 And hither have they sent it for her ransom. 
 
 K.Edio. Away with lier, and waft her hence to France. 
 And now what rests, but that we spend the time 
 With stately triumphs, mirthful comic sliows, 
 Such as befit the pleasure of the court ? 
 Sound, drums and trumpets ! — farewell, sour annoy ! 
 For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [Exeunt 
 
 END OF KING HENRY VI. — PART III. 
 
310 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 This History was originally published in 1597. It 
 was reprinted four times in quarto previous to its ap- 
 pearance in the folio of 1623. 
 
 To understand the character of the ' Richard III.' of 
 Shakspere, we must have traced its development by the 
 author of the previous plays. Those who study the 
 subject carefully will find how entire the unity is pre- 
 served between the last of these four dramas, which 
 everybody admits to be the work of the " greatest name 
 in all literature," in an unbroken link with the previous 
 drama, which some have been in the habit of assigning 
 to some obscure and very inferior writer. We are taught 
 to open the ' Life and Death of King Richard III.,' and 
 to look upon the extraordinary being who utters the 
 opening lines as some new creation, set before us in the 
 perfect completeness of self-formed villainy. "We have 
 not learnt to trace the growth of the mind of this bold 
 bad man; to see how his bravery became gradually 
 darkened with ferocity ; how his prodigious talents in- 
 sensibly allied themselves with cunning and hypocrisy ; 
 how, in struggling for his house, he ultimately proposed 
 to struggle for himself; how, in fact, the bad ambition 
 
 VOL. VI. a 2 
 
320 
 
 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 would be namrally kindled in his mind, to seize upon 
 tlie power which was sliding from the hands of the vo 
 laptuous Edward, and the " simple, plain Clarence." 
 
 The poet of the ' Richard III.' goes straightforward to 
 his object ; for he has made all the preparation in the 
 previous dramas. No gradual development is wanting 
 of the character which is now to sway the action. The 
 struggle of the houses up to this point has been one only 
 ' of violence ; and it was therefore anarchical. " The 
 big-boned" Warwick, and the fiery Clifford, alternately 
 presided over the confusion. The power which changed 
 the 
 
 '* Dieadful marches to deli^;litful measures" 
 seemed little more than accident. But Richard pro- 
 posed to himself to subject events to his domination, not 
 by courage alone, or activity, or even by the legitimate 
 exercise of a commanding intellect, but by the cleaiest 
 and coolest perception of the strength which he mus: 
 inevitably possess who unites the deepest sagacity to the 
 most thorough unscrupulousness in its exercise, and is 
 an equal master of the weapons of force and of craft. 
 The character of Richard is essentially different from 
 any other character which Shakspere has drawn. His 
 bloody violence is not that of Macbeth ; nor his subtle 
 treachery that of lago. It is difficult to say whether 
 he derives a greater satisfaction from the success of his 
 crimes, or from the consciousness of power which at- 
 tends the working of them. This is a feature which he 
 holds in common with lago. But then he does nof 
 labour with a motiveless malignity," as lago doe;?. 
 
INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 321 
 
 He has no vague suspicions; no petty jealousies, no re- 
 membrance of slight affronts, to stimulate him to a 
 (lisproportioned and unnatural vengeance. He does 
 not hate his victims ; but they stand in his way, and 
 as he does not love them, they perisli. Villains of the 
 blackest die disguise their crimes even from themselves 
 Richard shrinks not from their avowal to others, for a 
 purpose. 
 
 It is the result of the peculiar organization of Richard's 
 mind, formed as it had been by circumstances as well 
 as by nature, that he invariably puts himself in the 
 attitude of one who is playing a part. It is this cir- 
 cumstance which makes the character (clumsy even as 
 it has been made by the joinery of Gibber) such a la* 
 Vourite on the stage. It cannot be over-acted. 
 
 It is only in the actual presence of a powerful enemy 
 that Richard displays any portion of his natural cha- 
 racter. His bravery required no dissimulation !o up- 
 hold it. In his last battle-field he puts forth all the 
 resources of his intellect in a worthy direction : but the 
 retribution is fast approaching. It was not enough for 
 offended justice that he should die as a hero : the terri- 
 ble tortures of conscience were to precede the cata- 
 strophe. The drama has exhibited all it could exhibit 
 — the palpable images of terror haunting a mind already 
 anticipating the end. " Ratcliffj I fear, I fear," is the 
 first revelation of the true inward man to a fellov/- 
 being. But the terror is but momentary : — 
 
 '* Let uot our babbling dreams affright our souis." 
 To the hist tlie poet exhibits the supremacy of Ricliard'l 
 
323 INTRODUCTORY REMARKS. 
 
 intellect, his ready talent, and his iinv/earied energy. 
 The tame address of Richmond to his soldiers, and the 
 spirited exhortation of Richard, could not havG been the 
 result of accident. 
 
323 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 King Edward IV. 
 Appears^ Act II. sc. 1 . 
 
 Edward Prince of Wales, afterwards King 
 Edward V., son to the Kin<^. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 1 . 
 
 Richard, Duke of York, son to the King. 
 Appears^ Act II. sc. 4. Act III. sc. 1. 
 
 George, Duke of Clarence, brother to the King. 
 Appears, Act L sc. 1 ; sc. 4 
 
 Richard, Duke of Gloster, afterwards King 
 Richard III., brother to the King. 
 
 Appears, hcil. si^.l', sc. 2 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act III. 
 sc. 1 ; sc. 4 ; sc. 5 ; sc. 7. Act IV. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc. 4. Act V. 
 sc. 3 ; sc. 4. 
 
 A young Son of Clarence. 
 Appears^ Act II. sc. 2. 
 
 Henry, Earl of Richmond, af terwards King 
 Henry VII, 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 2 ; sc. 3 ; sc» 4. 
 
 Cardinal Bouchier, Archbishojy o f Canterhury 
 Appears, Act III. sc. I. 
 
324 
 
 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Thomas Rotheram, Archbishop of York. 
 Appears^ Act II. sc. 4. 
 
 John Morton, Bishop of Ely. 
 Appears^ Act III. sc. 4. 
 
 Duke of Buckingham. 
 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 : sc. 2. Act III. sc. 1 ; sc. 
 sc. 4 ; sc. 5 : sc. 7. Ac-t IV. sc. 2. Act V. sc. 1. 
 
 Duke of Norfolk. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 3; sc. 4. 
 
 Earl of Surrey, son to the Duke of Norfolk, 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 3. 
 
 Earl Rivers, brother to King Edward's Queen, 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act III. sc. 3. 
 
 Marquis of Dorset, son to King Edward's Queen 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act IV. sc. I. 
 
 Lord Grey, son to King Edward's Queen. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1. Act III. sc. 3. 
 
 Earl of Oxford. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 2 ; sc. 3. 
 
 Lord Hastings. 
 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 1 ; sc. 3. Act II. sc. 1 ; tc 2. Act III. 
 Hc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Lord Stanley. 
 
 /Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act IT. sc. 1 ; sc. 2. Act III. sc. 2 ; sc. 4 
 Act IV. sc. 1 : sc. 2 : sc. 4 : sc. 5. Act V. sc. 3 : sc. 4. 
 
PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 3^5 
 
 Lord Lovel. 
 /Ippenrs, Act 111. sc. 4; sc. 5. 
 
 Sir Thomas Vaughan. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 3. 
 
 Sir Richard Ratcliff. 
 
 Appears^ Act II. sc. 2. Act III. sc. .3 ; sc. 4 ; sc. 6. Act IV. 
 sc. 3; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 3. 
 
 Sir William Catesby. 
 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act III. sc. 2 ; sc. 5 ; sc. 7. Act IV. 
 sc. 2 ; sc. 4. Act V. sc. 3 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Sir James Tyrrel. 
 Appears, Act IV, sc. 2 ; sc. 3. 
 
 Sir James Blount. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 2. 
 
 Sir Walter Herbert. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 2. 
 
 Sir Robert Brakenbury, Lieutenant of the 'lower. 
 Appears, Art I. sc. 1 : sr. 4. Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 Christopher Urswick, a Priest. 
 Appears, Act IV. sc. 5. 
 
 A Priest. 
 Appears^ Act III. sc. 2. 
 
 Lord Mayor of London. 
 Appears, Act III. sc. 5 ; sc» T. 
 
 Sberitr of Wiltshire. 
 Appears, Act V. sc. 1, 
 
326 PERSONS REPRESENTED. 
 
 Elizabeth, Queen of King Edward IV. 
 
 AppearSy Act I. sc. 3, Act II. sc. 1 ; sc. 2 ; sc. 4. Act IV. 
 sc. 1 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Margaret, widow of King Henry VI. 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 3. Act IV. sc. 4. 
 
 Duchess of York, mother to King Edward IV., 
 Clarence, a7id Gloster. 
 Appeals, Act II. sc. 2 ; sc. 4. Act IV, sc. 1 ; sc. 4. 
 
 Lady Anne, toidow of Edward Prince of Wales, son 
 to King Henry VI., afterwards married to the Duke 
 of Gloster. 
 
 Appears, Act I. sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 A young Daughter of Clarence. 
 Appears, Act II. sc. 2. Act IV. sc. 1. 
 
 Lords, and other Attendants ; two Gentlemen, a Pur- 
 suivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, 
 Ghosts, Soldiers, ^c, 
 
 SCENE,— Ekglaku, 
 
327 
 
 KING RICHARD IIL 
 
 ACT L 
 
 SCENE I.— London. A Street. 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent 
 Made glorious summer by this sun of York 
 And all the clouds that lowVd 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-visagVl war hath smoothed his wrinkled front; 
 And now, instead of mounting barbed^ steeds, 
 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, 
 
 * An allusion to the cognizance of Edward IV., wliich was 
 adopted after the battle of Mortimer's Cross : — 
 
 Dazzle mhie eyes, or do I see three suns?" 
 
 b Barbed. Barbed and barded appear to have been in- 
 dilVerently applied to a caparisoned horse. 
 
328 
 
 KING lUCIIARD iil. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Deform'd, urifinish'd, sent before my lime 
 
 Into this breathing world, scarce half mcide ap. 
 
 And tliat so lamely and unfashionable 
 
 That dogs bark at me as I halt by them ; — 
 
 Why I, in this weak piping time of peaco. 
 
 Have no delight to pass away the time, 
 
 Unless to see my shadow ki 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 dn] 5. 
 
 Plots have I laid, inductions dangerou -, 
 
 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 murtherer shall be. 
 
 Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence comes. 
 
 Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenhury. 
 
 Brother, good day : What means this armed guard 
 That waits upon your grace? 
 
 Clar, Plis majesty. 
 
 Tendering my person's safety, hath a})pointed 
 This conduct to convey me to the Tower. 
 
 Glo. Upon what cause ? 
 
 Clar. Because my name is George. 
 
 Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours j 
 He should, for that, connnit your godfathers : — 
 O, behke, his majesty hath some intent 
 That you should be new christen'd in the Tower. 
 But what 's the matter, Ckirence ? may I know ? 
 
 Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know ; for I protest 
 
SCKN'E I.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 329 
 
 As yet I do not : But, as I can learn, 
 He hearkens after prophecies and dreams ; 
 And from the cross-row phicks the letter G, 
 And says, a wizard told him, that by G 
 His issue disinherited should be; 
 And, for my name of George begins with G, 
 It follows in his thought that I am he : 
 These, as I leain, and such-like toys as those, 
 Have mov'd his highness to commit me now. 
 
 Glo. Why, this it is when men are ruVd l)y worr.eii ; 
 'T is not the king that sends you to tlie Tower : 
 My lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 't is she 
 That tempers him to this extremity. 
 Was it not she and that good man of worship, 
 Antony Woodville, her brother there, 
 That made him send lord Hastings to the Tov/er, 
 From whence this present day he is delivered ^ 
 We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe. 
 
 Clar. By Heaven, I think there is no man secure 
 But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralT.s 
 That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore. 
 Heard you not what an humble suppliant 
 Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ? 
 
 Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity 
 Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. 
 I 11 tell you what, — I think it is our way, 
 If we will keep in favour with the king. 
 To be her men and wear her livery : 
 The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself, 
 Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, 
 Are mighty gossips in our monarchy. 
 
 Brak. I beseech your graces both to pardon me ; 
 His majesty hath straitly given in cliarge 
 That no man shall have private conference, 
 Of what degree soever, with his brother. 
 
 Glo. Even so ; an please your worship, Brakenbury, 
 You may partake of anything we say : 
 
3oO 
 
 K«NG RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act 1 
 
 We speak no treason, man : — we say, the king 
 
 Is wise and virtuous ; and his noble queen 
 
 Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous : — 
 
 W e say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, 
 
 A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue : 
 
 And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks : 
 
 How say you, sir ? can you deny all this ? 
 
 Brak, With this, my lord, myself have nought to do. 
 
 Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore ? I tell theC; 
 fellow. 
 
 He that doth naught with her, excepting one. 
 Were best to do it secretly, alone. 
 BraJc. What one, my lord ? 
 
 Glo. Her husband, knave : — Wouldst thou betray me? 
 Brah. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ; and, 
 withal, 
 
 Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 
 
 Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. 
 
 Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. 
 Brother, farewell : I will unto the king ; 
 And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, — 
 W ere it to call king Edward's widow sister, — 
 I will perform it, to enfranchise you. 
 Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood 
 Touches me deeper than you can imagine. 
 
 Clar. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. 
 
 Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long ; 
 I will deliver you, or else lie for you : 
 Meantime, have patience. 
 
 Clar. I must perforce ; farewell. 
 
 \Exeiint Clarence, Brakenbury, and Guard. 
 
 Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return, 
 Simple, plain Clarence ! I do love tliee so. 
 That I will shortly send thy soul to iieaven. 
 If Heaven will take the present at our hands. 
 But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings. 
 ^ Lie for you — be imprisoned ia your stead. 
 
SCK>E I.J 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 331 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious lord ! 
 
 Glo. As much uuto niy good lord chamberlain! 
 Well are you welcome to this open air. 
 How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment ? 
 
 Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must : 
 But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks 
 That were the cause of my imprisonment. 
 
 Glo. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too; 
 For they that were your enemies are his, 
 And have prevail'd as much on him as you. 
 
 Hast. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, 
 W^liile kites and buzzards prey at liberty. 
 
 Glo. What news abroad ? 
 
 Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home ; 
 The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, 
 And his physicians fear him mightily. 
 
 Glo. Now, by St. Paul, this news is bad indeed. 
 O, he hath kept an evil diet long. 
 And over-much consum'd his royal person ; 
 'T is very grievous to be thought upon. 
 Where is he ? in his bed ? 
 
 Hast. He is. 
 
 Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you. 
 
 \^Exit Hastings, 
 He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die 
 Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to Leaven. 
 I '11 in to urge his hatred more to Clarence, 
 With lies well steel'd with weiglity arguments : 
 And, if I fail not in my deep intent, 
 Clarence hath not another day to live : 
 Which done, God take king Edward to liis mercy, 
 And leave tlie world for me to bustle in ! 
 For then I '11 marry Warwick's youngest daughter. 
 What though I kill'd her husband and her father, 
 The readiest way to make the wench amends 
 
KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Is, to become her husband and her father . 
 
 The which will I : not all so much for love 
 
 As for another secret close intent, 
 
 By marrying her, wliich I must reach unto. 
 
 But yet I run before my horse to market : 
 
 Clarence still breathes ; Edward still lives and reigns ; 
 
 When they are gone then must I count my gains. iEjcU. 
 
 SCENE IL— The same. Another Street. 
 
 Enter the cor2ose of King Henry the Sixth, ho7iic 
 in an open coffin^ Gentlemen hearing halherds, t.) 
 guard it; and Lady Anne as mourner. 
 
 Anne. Set down, set down your lionourable load, — 
 If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, — 
 Whilst I a while obsequiously ^ 1 amen I. 
 The untimely fiall of virtuous Lancaster. 
 Poor key-cold figure of a holy king ! 
 Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster I 
 Thou bloodless remnant of that royal hlood i 
 Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, 
 To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
 Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter d son, 
 Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these woundi ! 
 Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, 
 I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes : 
 O, cursed be the hand that made these holes ! 
 Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it! 
 Cursed the blood that let this blood from hencp! 
 More direful hap betide that hated wretch, 
 That makes us wretched by the death of thee. 
 Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads. 
 Or any creeping venom'd thing tliat lives ! 
 If ever he have child, abortive be it, 
 Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, 
 Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 
 
 ^ Ohscquiuusly — performing obsequies. 
 
ScenkJI. king RICIIAllD ill. 333 
 
 May friglit the hopeful motner at the view ; 
 
 And that be heir to his unhappiness I 
 
 If ever he have wife, let her be made 
 
 More miserable by the death of him, 
 
 Than I am made by my young lord, and tliee ! 
 
 Come now, toward Chertsey with yoiu- holy load, 
 
 Taken from Pauls to be interred there ; 
 
 And, still as you are weary of the weight. 
 
 Rest you, whiles 1 lament king Henry's corse. 
 
 [ The bearers take tip the corpse, and advance. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down. 
 
 Arme. What black magician conjures up this fiend, 
 To stop devoted charitable deeds % 
 
 Glo. Villains, set down the corse ; or, by Saint Paul, 
 I '11 make a corse of him that disobeys ! 
 
 1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. 
 
 Glo. Unmanner'd dog ! stand thou when I command : 
 Advance thy iialberd liigher than my breast, 
 Or, by Saint Paul, 1 '11 strike thee to my foot. 
 And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. 
 
 \_The hearers set doion the coffm. 
 
 Anne What, do you tremble? are you all afraid 
 Alas, 1 blame you not ; for you are mortal. 
 And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. 
 Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell ! 
 Thou hadst but power over his mortal body. 
 His soul thou canst not iiave ; therefore be gone. 
 
 Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. 
 
 Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, iience, and trouble 
 us not ; 
 
 For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 
 Fiird it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. 
 If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, 
 Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. 
 O, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds 
 
 VOL. VI. 2 A 
 
334 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act J. 
 
 Open their congeard mouths and bleed afresh ! 
 
 Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ; 
 
 For 't is thy presence that exhales ttiis blood 
 
 From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells ; 
 
 Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, 
 
 Provokes this deluge most unnatural. 
 
 O God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death ! 
 
 O earth, wliich this blood drink'st, revenge his death ! 
 
 Either, Heaven, with lightning strike themurtherer dead i 
 
 Or, earth, gape open wide and eat him quick, 
 
 As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, 
 
 Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered ! 
 
 Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charit}^ 
 Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. 
 
 Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man ; 
 No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. 
 
 Glo. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. 
 
 Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth ! 
 
 Glo. More wonderfal, when angels are so angry] 
 Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman. 
 Of these supposed crimes to give me leave, 
 By circumstance, but to acquit myself. 
 
 Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, 
 For these known evils but to give me leave. 
 By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. 
 
 Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have 
 Some patient leisure to excuse myself. 
 
 Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst 
 make 
 
 No excuse current, but to hang thyself. 
 
 Glo. By such despair I chould accuse myself. 
 
 Anne. And by despairing shalt thou stand excusM, 
 For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, 
 That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. 
 
 Glo. Say, that I slew them not. 
 
 Anne. Then say, they were not slain. 
 But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 
 
^CKNE II.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 335 
 
 Glo. I did not kill your husband. 
 Anne. Why, then he is alive. 
 
 Glo. Nay, he is dead ; and slain by Edward's hand. 
 Anne. In thy foul throat thou liest ; queen Margaret 
 saw 
 
 Thy murtherous faulchion smoking in his blood ; 
 Tiie which thou once didst bend against her breast. 
 But that thy brothers beat aside the point. 
 
 Glo. I was provoked by her slanderous tongue, 
 That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. 
 
 Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind, 
 That never dream 'st on aught but butcheries : 
 Didst thou not kill this king ? 
 
 Glo. I grant ye. 
 
 Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog ? then, God grant 
 me too, 
 
 Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed ! 
 O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. 
 
 Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath him. 
 
 Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. 
 
 Glo. Let him thank me that holp to send him thither ; 
 For he was fitter for that place than earth. 
 
 Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. 
 
 Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it, 
 
 Anne. Some dungeon. 
 
 Glo. Your bed-chamber. 
 
 Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou lie^t. 
 
 Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie witli you. 
 
 Anne. I hope so. 
 
 Glo. I know so. — But, gentle lady Anne, 
 
 To leave this keen encounter of our wits, 
 
 And fall somewhat into a slower method, 
 
 Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
 
 Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, 
 
 As blameful as the executioner ? 
 
 Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd effecl 
 Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect ; 
 
 2 A 2 
 
336 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep, 
 
 To undertake the death of all the world, 
 
 So I might live one hour in 3^ our sweet bosom. 
 
 Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide. 
 These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. 
 
 Glo, These eyes could not endure that beauty's 
 wrack ; 
 
 You should not blemish it if I stood by : 
 As all the world is cheered by the sun, 
 So I by that ; it is my day, my life. 
 
 An7ie. Black night o'ershade thy day, and deatli thy 
 life ! 
 
 Glo, Curse not thyself, fair creature ; thou art both. 
 
 An7ie. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. 
 
 Glo. It is a quarrel most urmatural. 
 To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. 
 
 Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable. 
 To be reveng'd on him that kilFd my husband. 
 
 Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, 
 Did it to help thee to a better husband. 
 
 Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the earth. 
 
 Glo. He lives that loves thee better than he could. 
 
 Anne. Name iiim. 
 
 Glo. Plantagcnet. 
 
 Anne. Why, that was he. 
 
 Glo. The self-same name, but one of better nature. 
 
 Anne. Where is he ? 
 
 Glo. Here : \She spits at him.'] Why dost thou spit 
 at me 
 
 Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake ! 
 Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a place. 
 A7i7ie. Never hung ])oison on a fouler toad. 
 Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 
 
 Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. 
 A7i7ie. *Would they were basilisks, to strike thee 
 dead 1 
 
 Glo. I would they were, that I might die at once ; 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 KING RiCIIARD III. 
 
 .337 
 
 For now they kill me witii a living deatli. 
 
 Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears ; 
 
 Sham'd their aspects with store of childish drops : 
 
 These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, 
 
 No, when my father York and Edward wept 
 
 To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, 
 
 When black-fac'd Cliiford shook his sword at hlui : 
 
 Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, 
 
 Told the sad story of my father's death, 
 
 And tv/enty times made pause, to sob and weep, 
 
 That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks. 
 
 Like trees bedash'd with rain : in that sad time 
 
 My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; 
 
 And what these sorrows could not thence exiiale, 
 
 Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. 
 
 I never sued to friend, nur enemy ; 
 
 My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word ; 
 
 But now thy beauty is proposed my fee, 
 
 My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. 
 
 [SAe looks scornfully at him. 
 Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was mada 
 For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. 
 If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 
 Lo ! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ; 
 Which if thou ])lease to hide in this true breast. 
 And let tlie soul forth that adoreth tliee, 
 I lay it naked to the deadly stroke. 
 And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 
 
 [lie lays his breast open ; she offers at 
 it zcith his sword. 
 Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill king Henry ; — 
 But 't was tliy beauty that provoked me. 
 Nay, now despatch ; 't was I that stabbVl yoimg Ed- 
 ward ; — [She again offers at his breast. 
 Bat 't was thy heavenly face that set me on. 
 
 [She lets fall the sicord 
 Take up the sword again, or take up me. 
 
338 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Aline. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy death 
 I will not be thy executioner. 
 
 Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. 
 
 Anne. I have already. 
 
 Glo. That was in thy rage : 
 
 Speak it again, and even with the word, 
 Tliis hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, 
 Shall for thy love kill a far truer love ; 
 To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. 
 
 Anne. I would I knew thy heart. 
 
 Glo. 'T is figur'd in my tongue. 
 
 Anne. I fear me, both are false. 
 
 Glo. Then never man was true. 
 
 Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. 
 
 Glo. Say, then, my peace is made. 
 
 Anne. That shalt thou know hereafter. 
 
 Glo. But shall I live in hope ? 
 
 Anne. All men, I hope, live so. 
 
 Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring, 
 
 Anne. To take is not to give. [She puts on the rh 
 
 Glo. Look, how my ring encompasseth thy finger, 
 Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; 
 Wear both of them, for both of tliem are thine- 
 And if thy poor devoted servant may 
 But beg one favour at thy gracious hand. 
 Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. 
 
 Anne. What is it % 
 
 Glo. That it may please you leave these sad desig 
 To him that hath most cause to be a mourner, 
 And presently repair to Crosby-house : 
 Where, after I have solemnly interr'd. 
 At Chertsey monastery, this noble king. 
 And wet his grave with my repentant tears, 
 I will with all expedient*^ duty see you : 
 For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you 
 Grant me this boon. 
 
 ^ Expedient — expeditious. 
 
ScEXE II.] KING RICHARD III. 339 
 
 A7ine. With all my heart ; and much it joys me too 
 To see you are become so penitent. 
 Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. 
 
 Glo. Bid me farewell. 
 
 A7i7ie. 'Tis more than you deserve : 
 
 But, since you teach me how to flatter you, 
 Imagine I have said farewell ah'eady. 
 
 [Exeimt Lady Amne, Tressel, cmd Berkley. 
 
 Glo. Take up the corse, sirs. 
 
 Gent Tov/ards Chertsey, noble lord? 
 
 Glo, No, to l^^iite-Friars ; there attend my coming. 
 
 \_Exeimt the rest, loith the corse. 
 Was ever woman in this humour woo VI ? 
 Was ever woman in this humour v/o:i ? 
 I '11 have her, but I will not keep her long. 
 What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, 
 To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; 
 With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, 
 The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; 
 Having God, her conscience, and these bars against me, 
 And I no friends to back my suit withal, 
 But the plain devil, and dissembling looks. 
 And yet to win her, — all the world to nothing ! 
 Ha! 
 
 Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 
 
 Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since, 
 
 Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury ? 
 
 A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, 
 
 Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, 
 
 Young, valiant, v/ise, and, no doul^t, right royal, 
 
 The spacious Avorld cannot again afford : 
 
 And will she yet abase her eyes on me, 
 
 That cropped the golden prime of this sweet prince, 
 
 And made her widow to a woeful bed? 
 
 On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 
 
 On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus ? 
 
 My dukedom to a beggarly denier^ 
 
340 KING lUCIIAUD III. [Act I. 
 
 I do mistake my person all this while : 
 
 Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, 
 
 Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
 
 I 'll be at charges for a looking-glass ; 
 
 And entertain a score or two of tailors 
 
 To study fasliions to adorn my body : 
 
 Since I am crept in favour witli myself, 
 
 I will maintain it with some little cost. 
 
 But, first, I '11 turn yon' fellow in^ his grave; 
 
 And then return lamenting to my love. 
 
 Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass. 
 
 That I may see my shadow as I pass. | Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. — The same. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth, Lord Rivers, and 
 Lord Grey. 
 
 Riv. Have patience, madam ; there "s no doubt Ids 
 majesty 
 
 Will soon recover his accustom'd health. 
 
 Grey. In that you brook it ill it makes tiim worse : 
 Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort, 
 And cheer his grace with quick and merry words. 
 
 Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide on me? 
 
 Grey. No other ha.-m but loss of sucli a lord. 
 
 Q.. ISliz. The loss of such a lord includes all harms. 
 
 Grey. The Heavens have bless'd you with a goodly 
 son, 
 
 To be your comfoi ter when he is gone. 
 
 Q. Eliz, Ah, he is young ; and his minority 
 Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster, 
 A man that loves not me, nor none of you. 
 
 Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. It is determined, not concluded yet : 
 But so it must be if the king miscarry 
 
 ^ 7/2 -- into. 
 
Scene ill.j 
 
 KING IIICIIAUD III. 
 
 341 
 
 Enter Buckingham and Stanley. 
 
 Grey, Here come tlie lords of BackingUaiii and 
 Stanley. 
 
 Buck. Good time of day unto your royal grace ! 
 Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you have 
 been ! 
 
 Q. Eliz, The countess Richmond, good my lord of 
 Stanley, 
 
 To your good prayer will scarcely say amen. 
 Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she 's your wife, 
 x\nd loves not me, be you, good lord, assured 
 I hate not you for her proud arrogance. 
 
 Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe 
 The envious slanders of her false accusers ; 
 Or, if she be accused on true report, 
 Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds 
 From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of Stanley ? 
 
 Stan. But now, the duke of Buckingham and I 
 Are come from visiting his majesty. 
 
 Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment, lords ? 
 
 Buck. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheer- 
 fully. 
 
 Q. Eliz. God gran': him health ! did you confer with 
 him? 
 
 Buck. Ay, madam : he desires to make atonement 
 Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, 
 And between tliem and my lord chamberlain ; 
 And sent to warn^ them to his royal presence. 
 
 Q. Eliz. 'Would all were well ! — but that will never 
 be. 
 
 I fear our happiness is at the height. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Hastings, and Dorset. 
 Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it : 
 JFarn — summon. 
 
342 KING RICHARD III. [Act i. 
 
 Who are they that complain unto the king, 
 That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not ? 
 By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly 
 That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. 
 Because I cannot fiatter, and look fair. 
 Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and coj?. 
 Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 
 I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
 Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm, 
 But thus his simple truth must be abus'd 
 By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks ? 
 
 Grer/. To whom in all this presence speaks youi 
 grace ? 
 
 Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. 
 When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong? — 
 Or thee? — or thee? — or any of your facticn? 
 A plague upon you all ! His royal grace, — 
 Whom God preserve better than you would wish ! — 
 Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing- while. 
 But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter : 
 The king, of his own royal disposition. 
 And not provok'd by any suitor else ; 
 Aiming, belike, at jouv interior hatred. 
 That in your outward action shows itself 
 Against my children, brothers, and myself, 
 Makes him to send ; that thereby he may gather 
 The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. 
 
 Glo. I cannot tell : — The world is grown so i;avl 
 That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch : 
 Since every Jack became a gentleman. 
 There 's many a gentle person made a Jack. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning, hxcy 
 ther Gloster ; 
 You envy my advancement, and my friends*; 
 God grant we never may have need of you ! 
 
 Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need of you : 
 
Scene III.j 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Our brotlier is imprison'd by your means. 
 Myself disgracM, and tlie nobility 
 Held in contempt ; while great promotions 
 Are daily given, to ennoble those 
 
 That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble. 
 Q. Eliz. By Him that rais d me to this carelui 
 height 
 
 From that contented hap which I enjoy *d, 
 I never did incense his majesty 
 Against the duke of Clarence, but have been 
 An earnest advocate to plead for him. 
 My lord, you do me shameful injury 
 Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 
 
 Glo, You may deny that you were not the mean 
 Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment. 
 
 Riv. She may, my lord ; for 
 
 Glo. She mav, lord Rivers? — Vv'hy, who knows not 
 so? 
 
 She may do more, sir, than denying th.at : 
 She may help you to many fair preferments ; 
 And then deny her aiding hand therein, 
 And lay those honours on your high desert. 
 What may she not? She may, — ay, marry, may 
 she, — • 
 
 Riv. "What, marry, may she ? 
 
 Glo. What, marry, may she? marry with a king, 
 A bachelor, and a handsome stripling tov) : 
 I wis your grandam liad a worser match. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne 
 Your blnnt Ujjbraidings and your bitter scolls : 
 By Heaven, I will acquaint his majesty 
 Of those gross taunts that oft I have endurM. 
 1 had rathiCr be a country servant-maid 
 Than a great queen, with this condition, 
 To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at : 
 Small joy have I in being England's queen. 
 
311 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [.NOT I. 
 
 Ente7' Queen Margaret, behind, 
 
 Q, Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech 
 him ! 
 
 Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. 
 
 Glo. What? threat you me with telling of the king? 
 Tell him, and spare not : look, what I have said 
 I will avouch in presence of the king : 
 I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 
 'T is time to speak, my pains are quite forgot. 
 
 Q. Mar. Oat, devil! I do remember them too well : 
 Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, 
 And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. 
 
 Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king, 
 I was a packhorse in his great affairs ; 
 A weedei-out of his proud adversaries, 
 A liberal rewarder of his friends ; 
 To royalize his blood I spilt mine own. 
 
 Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, cr 
 thine. 
 
 Glo, In all which time, you, and your husband 
 Grey, 
 
 Were factious for the house of Lancaster ; — 
 
 And, Rivers, so were you : — Was not your husband 
 
 In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain ? 
 
 Let me put in your minds, if you forget, 
 
 What you have been, ere this, and what you are ; 
 
 Withal, what I have been, and what I am. 
 
 Q. Mar. A murtherous villain, and so still thou art. 
 
 Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick 
 Ay, and forswore himself,— which Jesu pardon !- 
 
 Q. Mar, Which God revenge ! 
 
 Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the crown ; 
 And, for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up : 
 I would to God my heart were flint like Edward's, 
 Or Edward's soft and pitiful like mine ; 
 I am too childish- fool isli lor th.i.s world. 
 
ScKXE III.] KING lUCIIAUI) III. 340 
 
 Q. Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, imd leave this 
 woiiil, 
 
 Thou cacodaemon! there thy kingdom is. 
 
 Riv. My lord of Gloster, in tliose busy days, 
 Which here you urge to prove us enemies, 
 AVe fbllow'd then our lord, our sovereign king ; 
 So should we )^ou, if you should be our king. 
 
 Glo. If I should be ? — I had rather be a pedlar , 
 Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof"! 
 
 Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose 
 You should enjoy, were you this country's king; 
 As little joy you may suppose in me 
 That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. 
 
 Q. Mar, A little joy enjoys the queen thereof -j 
 For I am she, and altogether joyless. 
 I can no longer hold me patient. — [Advanclnj. 
 Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out 
 In sharing that which you have pilFd from me : 
 Which of you trembles not that looks on me ? 
 If not, that I being queen you bow like subjects, 
 Yet that by you depos'd you quake like rebels ? — ■ 
 Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away ! 
 
 Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st t .ou in my 
 sight? 
 
 Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast rnarr'd ; 
 That will I make,** before I let thee go. 
 
 Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death ? 
 Q. Mar. I was ; but I do find more pain in banish- 
 ment 
 
 Than death can yield me here by my abode. 
 A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me, — 
 A.nd thou, a kingdom ; — all of you, allegiance : 
 This sorrow that I have, by right is yours ; 
 And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. 
 
 * The double acceptation of the verb malie U also exemplirif^d 
 iu ' As You Like It :' — 
 
 " Now, sir, what malie you here? 
 Nothiug : I am not taught to malie anything." 
 
S46 KING RICHARD III. [Act I. 
 
 Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee, 
 When tnou didst crown his warlike brows with paper. 
 And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes. 
 And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout, 
 Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland ; — 
 His curses, then from bitterness of soul 
 Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee ; 
 And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. 
 
 Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent. 
 
 Hast. O, 't was the foulest deed, to slay that babe, 
 And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of. 
 
 Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it Avas reported. 
 
 Dor. No man but prophesied revenge for it. 
 
 Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. 
 
 Q. MaT. What ! were you snarling all, before I came. 
 Ready to catch each other by the throat, 
 And turn you all your hatred now on me ? 
 Did York's dread curse prevail so much with Heaven 
 That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, 
 Tlieir kingdom's loss, my woeful banishment, 
 Should all but answer for that peevish brat? 
 Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven? — 
 Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses ! 
 Though not by war, by surfeit die your king. 
 As ours by murther, to make him a king 1 
 Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, 
 For Edward, our son, that was prince of Wales, 
 Die in his youtli by like untimely violence! 
 Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, 
 Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self: 
 Long mayst thou live, to wail thy children's death, 
 And see another, as I see thee now, 
 Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! 
 Long die thy hap])y days before thy death ; 
 And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief. 
 Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen ; 
 Rivers, and Dorset, you were standers by, — 
 And so wast tliou, lord Hastings, — when my son 
 
Scene III.] KING RICHARD III. 347 
 
 Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God, I pray him, 
 That none of you may live your natural age, 
 But by some unlook'd accident cut off! 
 
 Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful witlier'd hag. 
 
 Q. Ma7\ And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt 
 hear me. 
 
 If Heaven have any grievous plague in store, 
 Exceeding tliose that I can wish upon thee, 
 O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe. 
 And then hurl down their indignation 
 On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace ! 
 The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul ! 
 Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, 
 And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! 
 No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, 
 Unless it be wliile some tormenting dream 
 Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils 1 
 Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog ! 
 Thou tliat wast seal'd in thy nativity 
 The slave of nature, and the son of hell ! 
 Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb ! 
 Tiiou loathed issue of thy father's loins ! 
 Thou rag of honour ! thou detested 
 
 Glo. Margaret. 
 
 Q. Mar. Richard ! 
 
 Glo. Ha ? 
 
 Q. Mar. I call thee not. 
 
 Glo. I cry thee mercy then ; for I did think 
 That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names. 
 
 Q. Mar. Why, so I did ; butlook'd for no reply. 
 O, let me make the period to my curse. 
 
 Glo. 'T is done by me ; and ends in — Margaret. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Thus have you breath'd your curse against 
 yourself. 
 
 Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my for- 
 tune I 
 
 Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, 
 
318 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Whose deadly web ensnaretk thee about ? 
 Fool, fool ! tliou vvhett'st a knife to kill thyself. 
 The day will come that thou shalt wish for me 
 To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd toad. 
 
 Hast. False-bodiug woman, end thy frantic curse. 
 Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. 
 
 Q, Mar. Foul shame upon you! you have all movM 
 mine. 
 
 Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught 
 your duty. 
 
 Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do me 
 duty, 
 
 Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects ; 
 serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. 
 
 Dor. Dispute not v/ith her, she is lunatic. 
 
 Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert 
 Your fire-new stamp of lionour is scarce current : 
 O, that your young nobility could judge 
 What 't were to lose it, and be miserable! 
 They that stand high have many blasts to shake them ; 
 And if they fall they dash themselves to pieces. 
 
 Glo. Good counsel, marry ; learn it, learn it, marquis 
 
 Dor, It touches you, my lord, as much as me. 
 
 Glo. Ay, and much more : But I was born so high, 
 Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top, 
 And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 
 
 Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade ; — alas ! alas 
 Witness my son, now in the shade of death ; 
 Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath 
 Hath in eternal darkness folded up. 
 Your aiery buildeth in our aiery 's nest ; 
 O God, that seest it, do not suffer it ; 
 As it was won with blood, lost be it so ! 
 
 Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity. 
 
 Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me j 
 Uncharitably with me have you dealt, 
 And shamefully my hopes by you are butcher'd. 
 
vScENK III.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 349 
 
 My charity is outrage, life my sliame, — 
 And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage I 
 Buck. Have clone, have done. 
 
 Q. Mar. O princely Buckingikam, I '11 kiss tliy hand. 
 In sign of league and amity with tisee : 
 Now lair befall thee and thy noble house ! 
 Thy garments are not spotted v/illi our blood, 
 Nor thou within the compass of my curse. 
 
 Buck. Nor no one here ; for curses never pass 
 The lips of those that breathe them in the air. 
 
 Q. Mar. I will not think Init they ascend the sky, 
 And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. 
 
 0 Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog; 
 
 Look, when lie fawns he bites ; and, when he bites. 
 
 His venom tooth will rankle to the death : 
 
 Plave not to do with him, beware of him ; 
 
 Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him ; 
 
 And all their ministers attend on him. 
 
 Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Backlnghanj 'i 
 Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. 
 Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my gei^'le 
 counsel, 
 
 And soothe the devil that I warn thee from ? 
 
 O, but remember this another day. 
 
 When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow ; 
 
 And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess. 
 
 Live each of you the subjects to his hate, 
 
 And he to yours, and all of you to God's ! [ Exit. 
 
 Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear Ik . curses. 
 
 Riv. And so doth mine ; I muse why she 's at liberty. 
 
 Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy mother; 
 She hath had too much wrong, and I repent 
 My part thereof, that I have done to her. 
 
 Q. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge. 
 
 Glo. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. 
 
 1 was too hot to do somebody good, 
 That is too cold in thinking of it now. 
 
 \'oi,. VI. 2 11 
 
350 
 
 KLNG lUCIlARD 11 L 
 
 [Act I. 
 
 Marry, as f;r Clarence, lie is well repaid; 
 He is irank'd up to fatting for his pains ; 
 God pardon them that are i\ie cause thereof! 
 
 Riv. A virtuous and a cln istianlike conclusicn, 
 To pray for them that have done scath to us. 
 
 Glo, So do I ever, being well advis'd : — 
 For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. [Aside, 
 
 Enter Catesby, 
 
 Cates. Madam, liis majesty doth call for you, — 
 And for your grace, — and you, my noble lord. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come : — Lords, will you go with 
 me? 
 
 Riv. We wait upon jowx grace. \Jlx. all hut Glos. 
 
 Glo. 1 do the wrong, and lirst begin to brawl. 
 The secret mischiefs that I set abroach 
 I lay unto the grievous charge of others. 
 Clarence, — wliom I, indeed, have cast in darkness, — 
 I do beweep to many simple gulls ; 
 Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham ; 
 And tell them, 't is the queen and her allies 
 That stir the king against the duke my brother. 
 Now they believe it ; and withal whet me 
 To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorset, Grey : 
 But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture, 
 Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil : 
 And thus I clothe my naked villainy 
 With odd old ends, stolen forth of holy writ ; 
 And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 
 
 Enter tivo Murderers. 
 
 But soft, here come my executioners. 
 
 How now, my hardy, stout, resolved mates ? 
 
 Are you now going to despatch this thing i 
 
 1 Murd, We are, my lord; and come to have the 
 warrant, 
 
 That we may be admitted where he is. 
 
Scene IV.] KING RICHARD HI. 
 
 351 
 
 Gh. Well thouglit upon, I have it here about me : 
 \_Gives the xoarranL 
 When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. 
 But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, 
 Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ; 
 For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps, 
 May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 
 
 1 Mii7'd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to 
 
 prate : 
 
 Talkers are no good doers ; be assur'd 
 
 We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. 
 
 Glo. Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes fall 
 tears : 
 
 I like you, lads; — about your business straight ; 
 Go, go, despatch. 
 
 2 Murd. We will, my noble lord. [^Exexmt, 
 
 SCENE lY.— The same. A Room in the Tower. 
 Enter Clarence and Brakenbury. 
 
 Brak. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day ? 
 
 Clar. O, I have pass'd a miserable night. 
 So full of I'earful dreams, of ugly sights. 
 That, as I am a christian faithful man, 
 I would not spend another such a night. 
 Though 't wei e to buy a world of happy days ; 
 So full of dismal terror was the time. 
 
 Brah. What was your dream, my lord ? I ]^ray you. 
 tell me. 
 
 Clar. Methought that I had broken from the Tower. 
 And was embark"d to cross to Burgundy ; 
 And in my company my brother Gloster : 
 Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
 Upon the hatches ; there we look'd toward England, 
 And cited up a thousand heavy times. 
 During the wars of York and Lancaster 
 That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along 
 
 2 B 2 
 
352 KING RICIIAKD III. [Act I. 
 
 Upon the giddy footing of the liatches, 
 Methought that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling, 
 Struck me, that thought to stay liim, overboard, 
 Into the tumbling billows of the main. 
 
 0 Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! 
 What dreadful noise of water in mine ears I 
 Wliat sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
 Methought I saw a thousand fearful wracks ; 
 
 A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 
 
 Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 
 
 Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 
 
 All scattered in the bottom of tlie sea. 
 
 Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes 
 
 Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept, 
 
 As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, 
 
 That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, 
 
 And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 
 
 Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of death 
 To gaze upon these secrets of the deep? 
 
 Clar. Methought I had ; and often did I strive 
 To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood 
 Stopt in my soul, and would not let it forth 
 To find the empty, vast, and wand'ring air; 
 But smother'd it within my panting bulk, 
 Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. 
 
 Brak. Awak'd you not in this sore agony ? 
 
 Cla7\ No, no, my dream was lengthened after life ; 
 O, then began the tempest to my soul ! 
 
 1 pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood 
 With that sour ferryman which poets v/rite of, 
 Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 
 
 The first that there did greet my stranj^ei- soul 
 Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; 
 Who spake aloud, — " What scovu-ge for perjury 
 Can this dark monarchy ailbrd false Clarence 1^" 
 And so he vanisird : Then came wandering by 
 A shadow like an angel, witli briglit hair 
 
SjciiNE IV.] KING iUCIlARD III. 353 
 
 Dabbled in blood ; and he sbriek'd out aloud, — 
 
 Clarence is come, — false, fleeting, perjur'd Clarence, — 
 That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbiuy ; — 
 Seize on him, furies, take him unto torment !""- 
 With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
 Environed me, and howled in mine ears 
 Such hideous cries, that, with the very noiso 
 I trembling wak'd, and, for a season al'ter. 
 Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
 Such terrible impression made my dream. 
 
 Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted you; 
 I am afraid, methinks, to liear you tell it. 
 
 Clar. O, Brakenbury, I liave done these things, — 
 That now give evidence against my soul, — 
 For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites me I 
 
 0 God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, 
 But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, 
 
 Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : 
 
 O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children ' 
 
 1 pray tliee, gentle keeper, stay by me ; 
 My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. 
 
 Brak. I will, my lord : God give youx grace good 
 rest ! — [Clar. retires, 
 
 SoiTow breaks seasons and reposing hours, — 
 Makes tiie night morning, and the noontide night. 
 Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
 An outward honour for an inward toil ; 
 And, lor unfelt imaginations, 
 They often feel a world of restless cares : 
 So that, between their titles, and low name, 
 There s nothing ditfers but the outward fame. 
 
 Enter the two Murderers. 
 1 Murd. Hoi who 's here? 
 
 Brak. What v/ouldst thou, fellow ? aiid ho'.v cam'st 
 thou hither? 
 
 1 Murd. I woidd speak with Clarence, and I came 
 hither on my legs. 
 
354 KING RICHARD III. [Act I. 
 
 Brak. What, so brief? 
 
 2 Murd. 'T is better, sir, than to be tedious : — let 
 him see our commission, and talk no more. 
 
 [A paper is delivered to Brak., who reads it. 
 
 Brak. I am, in this, commanded to deliver 
 The noble duke of Clarence to your hands : 
 I will not reason what is meant hereby, 
 Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. 
 There lies the duke asleep, — and there, the keys. 
 I '11 to the king ; and signify to him 
 That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. 
 
 1 Murd. You may, sir ; 't is a point of wisdom : 
 Fare you well. \Exit Brak. 
 
 2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps ? 
 
 1 Murd, No; he '11 say 't was done cowardly, when 
 he wakes. 
 
 2 Murd. Why, he shall never wake until the great 
 judgment-day. 
 
 1 Murd. Why, then he "11 say we stabb'd him 
 sleeping. 
 
 2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgment, hath 
 bred a kind of remorse in me. 
 
 1 Murd. What! art thou afraid? 
 
 2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant ; but to 
 be damned for killing him, from the v/hich no warrant 
 can defend me. 
 
 1 Murd. I thought thou hadst been resolute. 
 
 2 Murd. So I am, to let him live. 
 
 1 Murd. I 11 back to the duke of Gloster, and tell 
 him so. 
 
 2 Murd. Nay, I prithee, stay a little : I hope this 
 passionate humour of mine will change : it was wont 
 to hold me but while one tells twenty. 
 
 1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now ? 
 
 2 Murd. Some certain dregs of conscience are yet 
 within me. 
 
 1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the deed 's 
 done. 
 
Scene IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 355 
 
 2 Murcl. Come, he dies ; I had forgot the reward. 
 
 1 Murd. Where 's thy conscience now ? 
 
 2 Murcl. Oh, in the duke of Gloster's purse. 
 
 1 Murd. When he opens his purse to give us our re- 
 ward, thy conscience flies out. 
 
 2 Micrd. 'T is no matter ; let it go ; there 's few, or 
 none, will entertain it. 
 
 1 Murd. What if it come to thee again ? 
 
 2 Murd. I 11 not meddle with it, [it is a dangerous 
 thing,] it makes a man a coward ; a man cannot steal 
 but it accuseth him ; a man cannot swear l)ut it checks 
 him ; a man cannot lie with his neighbour's wife but it 
 detects him : 'T is a blushing shame-faced spirit that 
 mutinies in a man's bosom ; it fills one full of obstacles : 
 it made me once restore a purse of gold that by chance 
 I found ; it beggars any man that keeps it : it is turned 
 out of towns and cities for a dangerous thing ; and every 
 man that means to live well endeavours to trust to him- 
 self, and live without i(. 
 
 1 Murd. It is now even at my elbow, persuading me 
 not to kill the duke. 
 
 2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe 
 him not : he v/ould insinuate with thee, but to make 
 thee sigh. 
 
 1 Murd. I am strong fram'd, he cannot prevail with 
 me. 
 
 2 Murd. Spoken like a tall fellow that respects liis 
 reputation. Come, shall we fall to work ? 
 
 1 Mu7'd. Take him on the costard with the hilts of 
 thy sword, and then throw him into the malmsey-butr, 
 in the next room. 
 
 2 Murd. O excellent device ! and make a sop of him. 
 
 1 Murd. Soft ! he wakes. 
 
 2 M^ird. Strike. 
 
 I Murd. No, we '11 reason with him. 
 Clar. Where art thou, keeper ? give me a cup of 
 wine. 
 
3b6 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act 1. 
 
 I Murcl. Yousliall have wine enough, my lord, anon. 
 
 Clar. In God's name, what art thou ? 
 
 1 Miird. A man, as you are. 
 
 Clar. But not, as I am, royal. 
 
 1 Mitrd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 
 
 Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. 
 
 1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my looks mine 
 own. 
 
 Clar. How darkly, and how deadly, dost thou speak! 
 Your eyes do menace me : Why look you pule ? 
 Who sent you hither ? Wherefore do you come ? 
 
 2 Murd. To, to, to 
 
 Clar. To murther me ? 
 Both Murd. Ay, ay. 
 
 Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, 
 I And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. 
 Wherein, my friends, have I otlended you ? 
 
 1 Murd. Offended us you Imve not, but the kiji;^. 
 Clar. I shall be reconcilVl to him again. 
 
 2 Murd. Never, my lord; therefore, prepare to die. 
 Clar. Are you drawn fortli among a world of men, 
 
 I To slay the innocent? What is my offence? 
 I Where is the evidence that doth accuse me ? 
 ; What lawful quest have given their verdict up 
 I Unto the frowning judge ? or who pronounc'd 
 ! The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death ? 
 : Before I be convict by course of law. 
 
 To threaten me with death is most unlawful. 
 
 I charge you, as you hope for any goodness, 
 
 That you depart, and lay no hands on me ; 
 
 The deed you undertake is damnable. 
 
 1 Murd. What we will do we do upon command. 
 
 2 Murd. And he that hath commanded is our king. 
 Clar. Erroneous vassal ! the great King of kings 
 
 Hath in tlie talde of liis law commanded, 
 That thou slialt do no murther : Will you then 
 Spurn at his edict, and fidtil a man's? 
 
ScfcNE IV.j KING RICHARD 11/. 
 
 S57 
 
 Take heed; for he liolds vengeance in his hand, 
 To hurl upon their heads that break his law. 
 
 2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he hurl on 
 thee, 
 
 For false forswearing, and for murther loo : 
 Thou didst receive tlie sacrament to fight 
 In quarrel of the house of Lancaster. 
 
 1 Murd. iVnd, like a traitor to tlie name of God, 
 Didst break that vow ; and with thy treacherous blade 
 Unripp'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 
 
 2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and de- 
 
 fend. 
 
 I Mtird. How canst thou urge God's dreadful law 
 to us. 
 
 When thou hast broke it in such dear degree? 
 
 Clar. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed? 
 For Edward, for my brother, for his sake : 
 He sends you not to murther me for this; 
 For in that sin he is as deep as I. 
 If God will be avenged for the deed, 
 O, know you, yet he doth it publicly ; 
 Take not the quarrel from his powerfid arm ; 
 He needs no indirect or lawless course. 
 To cut off those that have offended him. 
 
 I Miird. Who made thee then a bloody minister, 
 When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, 
 That princely novice, was struck dead by thee ? 
 
 Clar. My brother's love, tlie devil, and my rage. 
 
 1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our dutv, and thy 
 faults, 
 
 Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. 
 
 Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me ; ^ 
 I am his brother, and I love Inm well. 
 If you are hir'd ibr meed, go back again, 
 And I will send you to my brother Gloster; 
 Who shall reward you better for my life 
 Than Edward will ibr tidings of my death. 
 
358 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster liases 
 you. 
 
 Cl£tr. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear ; 
 Go you to him from me. 
 
 Both Mirrd. Ay, so we will. 
 
 Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father York 
 Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, 
 [And charged us from his soul to love each other,] 
 He little thought of this divided friendship : 
 Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep. 
 
 I Murd. Ay, millstones ; as he lesson VI us to weep. 
 
 Clar. O, do not slander him, for he is kind. 
 
 1 Murd. Right, as snow in harvest. — Come, you de 
 ceive yourself: 
 
 is he that sends us to destroy you here. 
 
 Clar. It cannot be, for he be wept my fortune. 
 And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, 
 That he would labour my delivery. 
 
 1 Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you 
 From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 
 
 2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must die, 
 
 my lord. 
 
 Clar. Have you that holy feeling in your souls, 
 To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
 And are you yet to your own souls so blind. 
 That you will war with God, by murthering me ? 
 Oh, sirs, consider, they that set you on 
 To do this deed will hate you for the deed. 
 
 2 Murd. What shall we do ? 
 
 Clar. Relent, and save your souls. 
 
 Which of you, if you were a prince's son, 
 Being pent from liberty, as I am now, 
 If two such murtherers as yourselves came to you, 
 Would not entreat for life, — as you would beg 
 Were you in my distress ? 
 
 1 Murd. Relent ! No. 'T is cowardly and wo- 
 manish. 
 
Scene IV.J 
 
 359 
 
 Clar: Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish. — 
 My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ; 
 O, if thine eye be not a flatterer. 
 Come thou on my side, and entreat for me : 
 A begging prince, what beggar pities not ? 
 
 2 Murd. Look behind you, my lord. 
 
 1 Murd. Take that, and that; if all this will not do, 
 
 \_Stahs him. 
 I '11 drown you in the malmsey-butt within. 
 
 [Exit, xoith the body. 
 
 2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately despatched 1 
 How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands 
 
 Of this most grievous murther ! 
 
 Fte-enter first Murderer. 
 
 1 Murd. How now ? what mean'st thou, that tliou 
 
 help'st me not % 
 By Heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have 
 been. 
 
 2 Mv/rd. I would he knew that I had sav'd his bro- 
 
 ther ! 
 
 Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say ; 
 
 For I repent me that the duke is slain. \JExit. 
 
 1 Murd. So do not I ; go, coward as thou art. 
 Well, I '11 go hide the body in some hole. 
 Till that the duke give order for his burial ; 
 And when I have my meed, I will away ; 
 For this will out, and then I must not stay. [Exit 
 
KING IIICIIAKI) III. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 ACT II. 
 
 SCENE I. — The same, A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter King Edward, (led in sick,) Queen Eliza- 
 beth, Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buckingham, 
 Grey, and others. 
 
 K. Edw. Wliy, so : — now have I done a good da3^'s 
 work ; — 
 
 You peers, continue tliis united league : 
 
 I every day expect an eml)assage 
 
 From my Redeemer to redeem me hence ; 
 
 And more to peace my soul shall part to heaven, 
 
 Since I have made my friends at peace on eartlj. 
 
 Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand ; 
 
 Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. 
 
 Riv. By Heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging 
 hate ; 
 
 And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. 
 
 Hast. So tlirive I, as I truly swear the like ! 
 
 K. Edw. Take heed you dally not before your king; 
 Lest He that is the supreme King of kings 
 Confound your hidden falsehood, and award 
 Either of you to be tlie other's end. 
 
 Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love ! 
 
 Riv. And I, as I love Hastings with my lieart! 
 
 K. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in this^- — 
 Nor you, son Dorset, — Buckingliam, nor you ; — 
 You have been factious one against the ether. 
 Wife, love lord Hastings, let liim kiss your hand ; 
 And what you do, do it unfeignedly. 
 
 Q. EUz. Tiiere, Hastings; --I will never more re* 
 member 
 
 Our former hah-eil, so thrive I and mine! 
 
SCEXf I.] 
 
 KING RICH All!) III. 
 
 K. Edw. Dorset, embrace him, — I^a,s( i5lL,^?, 'ove loid 
 marquis. 
 
 Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, 
 Upon my part sliall be inviolable. 
 
 Hast. And so swear I. [Embraces Doiisi:r. 
 
 K. Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou tlild 
 league 
 
 With thy embracements to my wife's allies, 
 And make me happy in your unity. 
 
 Buck. Whenever Buckingham dotli tarn his hate 
 Upon your grace \_to the Queen], but witli all duteous 
 love 
 
 Dotn. cherish you, and yours, God punish me 
 With liate in those where I expect most love ! 
 When I liave most need to employ a friend, 
 And most assured that he is a friend, 
 Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, 
 Be he unto me ! this do I beg of Heaven, 
 Wnen I am cold in love to you or yours. 
 
 [Embracing Rivers, ^e. 
 
 K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, 
 Is this thy vow unto my siclvly heart. 
 There wanteth now our brother Gloster here. 
 To make the blessed period of this peace. 
 
 Buck. And, in good time, here comes the noble dv.ko. 
 
 Enter Gloster. 
 
 Glo. Good morrow to my sovereign king, and queen ; 
 And, princely peers, a happy time of day ! 
 
 K. Edio. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day . 
 Gloster, we have done deeds of charity ; 
 Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, 
 Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. 
 
 Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign lord. — 
 Among this princely heap, if any here. 
 By false intelligence or wrong surmise, 
 Hold me a foe ; 
 
362 
 
 KING RICHARD IIL 
 
 [Ac'i II. 
 
 If I unwittingly, or in my rage, 
 
 Have aught committed that is hardly borne 
 
 By any in this presence, I desire 
 
 To reconcile me to his friendly peace ; 
 
 'T is death to me to be at enmity ; 
 
 I hate it, and desire all good men's love. 
 
 First, madam, I entreat true peace of you. 
 
 Which I will purchase with my duteous service ; 
 
 Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 
 
 If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ; 
 
 Of you, and 3'ou, lord Rivers, and of Dorset — 
 
 That all without desert have frown'd on me ; — 
 
 Of you, lord Woodville, and lord Scales, of you, — 
 
 Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen ; indeed, of all, 
 
 1 do not know that Knglislnuan alive 
 
 With whom my soul is any jot at odds. 
 
 More than the infant that is born to-night ; 
 
 I thank my God for my humility. 
 
 Q. El'iz. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter : 
 I would to God all strifes were well compounded. 
 My sovereign lord, I do beseecii your highness 
 To take our brother Clarence to your grace. 
 
 Glo. Why, madam, have I offered love for this, 
 To be so flouted in this royal presence? 
 Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead ? 
 
 \_Theij all start. 
 
 You do him injury to scorn his corse. 
 
 K. Echo. Who knows not he is dead ! who knows 
 
 he is? 
 
 Q. Eliz. All-seeing Heaven, what a world is this ! 
 
 Buck. Look I so jmle, lord Dorset, as the jest ? 
 
 Dor. Ay, my good lord ; and no man in the presence, 
 But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. 
 
 K. Ed'tv. Is Clarence dead ? the order was reversed, 
 
 Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, 
 And that a winged Mercury did bear ; 
 Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, 
 
SCiiNE I.] 
 
 KING IIICHAIID III. 
 
 363 
 
 That came too lag to see him buried : 
 God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, 
 Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, 
 Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, 
 And yet go current from suspicion ! 
 
 Enter Stanley, 
 
 Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done! 
 
 K. Edio. I prithee, peace ; my soul is full of sorrov/. 
 
 Stan. I will not rise unless your highness hear me. 
 
 K. Edio. Tlien say at once, what is it tliou request 'st. 
 
 Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my serv ant's life : 
 Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, 
 Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk. 
 
 K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's deatii, 
 And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? 
 My brother kilFd no man, liis fault was thought, 
 And yet his punishment was bitter death. 
 Who sued to me for him? who, in my wradj, 
 Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd ? 
 W^ho spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love? 
 Who told me how the poor soul did foi sake 
 The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me ? 
 Who told me in the field at Tewksbury, 
 When Oxford had me down, he rescued me. 
 And said, " Dear brother, live, and be a king ? 
 Who told me, when we both lay in the field. 
 Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 
 Even in his garments ; and did give himself, 
 All thin and naked, to the nurnb-cold night ? 
 All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 
 Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you 
 Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 
 But, when your carters, or your waiting-vassals. 
 Have done a drunken slaughter, and delac'd 
 The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
 You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon ; 
 
3r)4 KING IllCHAIU) III. TAcTli. 
 
 And I, unjustly too, must grant it you : — 
 
 But for my brother not a man \vould spciik, 
 
 Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself 
 
 For him, poor soul. The proudest of you ail 
 
 Have been beholden to him in his life ; 
 
 Yet none of you would once ]dead for liis life. 
 
 0 God I I fear thy justice will take hold 
 
 On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this. 
 Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. 
 Ah ! poor Clarence ! 
 
 \_Exeu7it King, Queen, Hast., Riv., Dor., anclGiii.^. 
 
 Glo. This is the fruit of raslmess ! Mark'd you net 
 How that the guilty kindred of the queen 
 Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence* death i 
 O ! they did urge it still unto the king : 
 God will revenge it. Come, lords ; will you go, 
 To comfort Edward with our company ? 
 
 Buck. We wait u]^on your grace. \_Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE n.— The same. 
 
 Enter the Duchess of York, icith a Son and 
 Daughter of Clauence. 
 
 Son. Good grandam, tell us, is our father de.id? 
 Duch. No, boy. 
 
 Daugh, Why do you weep so oft ? and boat yoiii 
 breast ; 
 
 And cry — O Clarence, my unhappy son ! *' 
 
 Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head, 
 
 And call us orphans, wretches, castaways, 
 
 If that our noble lather were alive? 
 
 Duch. My pretty cousins,^ you mistake me both ; 
 
 1 do lament the sickness of the king, 
 
 As loth to lose liim, not your father's deatli : 
 It were lost sorrow to wail one that 's lost. 
 
 Son. Then you conclude, my grandam, he is ilcvul. 
 ^ Cousins — rel;itioi\s — kinsfolks. Thoy are her grandchildren 
 
ScENK II.J KING RICHARD III. 3«s 
 
 The king my uncle is to blame for this : 
 God will revenge it ; whom I will importune 
 Witli earnest prayers all to that effect. 
 Daugh. And so will I. 
 
 Dtich. Peace, children, peace! the king dolh lovf: 
 you well : 
 Incapable and shallow innocents, 
 You cannot guess who caus"d your father's dealh. 
 
 Son. Grandam, we can ; for my good uncle Glostei 
 Told me, the king, provok'd to 't by the queen, 
 Devis'd impeachments to imprison him : 
 And when my uncle told me so, he wept. 
 And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek ; 
 Bade me rely on him as on my father. 
 And he would love me dearly as his child. 
 
 Duck. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle 
 shapes. 
 
 And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice ! 
 He is my son, ay, and therein my sliame. 
 Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. 
 
 Son. Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam t 
 
 Diich. Ay, boy. 
 
 Son. I cannot think it. Hark ! what noise is this ? 
 
 Enter Queen Elizabeth, distractedly ; Rivers c^nd 
 DoRS'ET folloioi7ig her. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah I who shall hinder me to wail and weep \ 
 To chide my fortune, and torment myself? 
 I '11 join with black despair against my soul, 
 And to myself become an enemy. 
 
 Duch. What means this scene of rude impatience? 
 
 Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence. 
 Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. 
 Why grow the branches when the root is gone ? 
 Why wither not the leaves that want their sap ? 
 If you will live, lament ; if die, be brief; 
 That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's ; 
 
 VOL. Yi. 2 c 
 
 I 
 
366 KING RICHARD III. [Act II. 
 
 Or, like obedient subjects, follow liim 
 
 To his new kingdom of ne'er- changing night. 
 
 Duch. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow, 
 As I had title in thy noble husband ! 
 I have bewept a worthy husband's death, 
 And liv'd by looking on his images : 
 But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance 
 Are crack VI in pieces by malignant death ; 
 And I for comfort have but one false glass. 
 That grieves me when I see my shame in him. 
 Thou art a widow ; yet thou art a mother, 
 And hast tlie comfort of thy children left ; 
 But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms, 
 And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands, 
 Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I 
 (Thine being but a moiety of my moan) 
 To over-go thy woes, and drown thy cries ! 
 
 Son. Ah, aunt ! you wept not for our father's death ; 
 How can we aid you with our kindred tears ? 
 
 Daugh. Our fatherless distress v/as left unmoan'd ; 
 Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation ; 
 I am not barren to bring forth complaints : 
 All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 
 That I, being govern 'd by the watery moon, 
 May send forth plenteous tears to drown the workl! 
 Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward i 
 
 Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence ! 
 
 Duch. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Cla- 
 rence ! 
 
 Q. Blh. What stay had I but Edward ? and he 's 
 gone. 
 
 Chil. What stay had we but Clarence ? and he "s 
 gone. 
 
 Duch. What stays had I but they ? and they aie 
 gone. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Was never widow had so dear a loss. 
 
Scene II.] KING RICHARD III. 3G7 
 
 Chil. Were never orjjhans had so dear a loss. 
 
 IMich. Was never mother had so dear a loss 
 Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs ; 
 Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. 
 She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ; 
 I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she ; 
 These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I ; 
 I for an Edward weep, so do not they : — 
 Alas ! you three on me, threefold distress'd, 
 Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse, 
 And I will pamper it with lamentations. 
 
 Dor. Comfort, dear motlier : God is much displeasVl 
 That you take with unthank fulness his doing ; 
 In common worldly things 't is called ungrateful, 
 With dull unwillingness to repay a debt. 
 Which with a bounteous liand was kindly lent ; 
 Much more to be thus opposite with Heaven, 
 For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 
 
 Riv. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, 
 Of the young prince your son : send straight for hiiu. 
 Let him be crown'd ; in him your comfort lives : 
 Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edwards grave. 
 And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. 
 
 Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, 
 Ratcliff, and others. 
 
 Glo. Sister, have comfort : all of us have cause 
 To wail the dimming of our shining star ; 
 But none can help our harms by wailing them. 
 Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy, 
 I did not see your grace : — Humbly on my knee 
 I crave your blessing. 
 
 Duch. God bless thee, and put meekness in thy breast, 
 Love, charity, obedience, and true duty 1 
 
 Glo. Amen ; and make me die a good old m.an ! 
 That is the butt-end of a motliei's blessing ; 
 I marvel that her grace did leave it out. ^^Aside. 
 
 2 c 2 
 
368 KING IIICHARD III. [Act IL 
 
 Buck, You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers, 
 That bear this heavy mutual load of moan, 
 Now cheer each other in each other's love : 
 Though we have spent our harvest of this king-, 
 We are to reap the harvest of his son. 
 The broken rancour of your high swoln hates, 
 But lately splintered, knit, and join"d together. 
 Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept : 
 Me seemeth good, that, with some little train. 
 Forthwith from Ludlow the young king be fet 
 Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. 
 
 Jiiv, Why with some little train, my lord uf Buck- 
 ingham ? 
 
 Buck. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude, 
 The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out ; 
 Which would be so much the more dangerous. 
 By how much the estate is green and yet ungoveruM ; 
 Where every horse bears his commanding rein. 
 And may direct his course as please himself, 
 As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, 
 In my opinion, ought to be prevented. 
 
 Glo. I hope the king made peace with all of us ; 
 And the compact is firm, and true, in me. 
 
 Biv. And so in me ; and so, I think, in all : 
 Yet, since it is but green, it should be put 
 To no apparent likelihood of breach, 
 Which, haply, by much company might be iirg'd . 
 Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham, 
 That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. 
 
 Hast. And so say I. 
 
 Glo. Then be it so ; and go we to determine 
 Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. 
 Madam, and you my sister, will you go 
 To give your censures^ in this weighty business? 
 
 lExeimt all but Buck. a7id Glosteii 
 Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince, 
 * Ctfwm/fs— opinions. 
 
Scene 111.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 369 
 
 For God's sake, let not us two stay at home : 
 
 For, by the way, I *ll sort occasion. 
 
 As index to the story we late talk'd of. 
 
 To part the queen's proud kindred from the pripce, 
 
 Glo. My other self, my counseVs consistory, 
 My oracle, my prophet ! — My dear cousin, 
 I, as a child, will go by thy direction. 
 Towards Ludlow then, for we '11 not stay behind. 
 
 l^Exeimt, 
 
 SCENE lll,~The same. A Street 
 Enter tico Citizens, meeting. 
 
 1 at. Good morrow, neighbour : Whither away so 
 
 fast? 
 
 2 at. I promise you, I scarcely know myself : 
 Hear you the news abroad ? 
 
 1 at. Yes ; that the king is dead. 
 
 2 at. Ill news, by 'r lady ; seldom comes the better: 
 I fear, I fear, 't will prove a giddy world. 
 
 Enter another Citizen. 
 
 3 at. Neighbours, God speed ! 
 
 1 at. Give you good morrow, sir. 
 3 at. Doth the news hold of good king Edward's 
 
 death? 
 
 2 at. Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help, the while ! 
 
 3 at. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. 
 
 1 at. No, no ; by God's good grace his son shall 
 
 reign. 
 
 3 at. Woe to that land that 's govern'd by a child ! 
 
 2 at. In him there is a hope of government ; 
 That in his nonage council under him, 
 
 And in bis full and ripen'd years himself, 
 
 No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern weM. 
 
 1 at. So stood the state when Henry the sixth 
 Was crown'd in Paris but at nine mouths old. 
 
370 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act II. 
 
 3 Cit. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends, God 
 wot ; 
 
 For tlien this land was famously enrich'd 
 With politic grave counsel ; then the king 
 Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. 
 
 1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father and 
 mother. 
 
 3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his father ; 
 Or, by his father, there were none at all : 
 i For emulation who shall now be nearest 
 
 Will toucli us all too near, if God prevent not. 
 
 O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster ; 
 
 And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud *. 
 
 And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, 
 
 This sickly land might solace as before. 
 
 1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst ; all will be 
 
 well. 
 
 3 Cit. When clouds are seen wise men put on their 
 cloaks ; 
 
 Wlien great leaves fall then winter is at hand ; 
 W^hen the sun sets who doth not look for night 
 Untimely storms make men expect a dearth : 
 All may be well ; but, if God sort it so, 
 'T is more than we deserve, or I expect. 
 
 2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear : 
 You cannot reason^ almost with a man 
 
 That looks not heavily and full of dread. 
 
 3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it so : 
 By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust 
 Ensuing danger ; as, by proof, we see 
 
 The waters swell before a boist'rous storm. 
 But leave it all to God. Wliither away? 
 
 2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices. 
 
 3 Cit. And so was I ; 1 '11 bear you company. 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ^ Reason — converse. 
 
Scene IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 371 
 
 SCENE IV. — The same. A Room in the Palace. 
 
 Enter the Archbishop of York, the young Duke of 
 York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess of 
 York. 
 
 Arch. Last night, I bear, they lay at Northampton ; 
 At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night : 
 To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 
 
 Duch. I long with all my heart to see the prince. 
 I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. 
 
 Q. Eliz. But I hear, no ; they say, my son of York 
 Has almost overta'en him in his growth. 
 
 York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. 
 
 Duch. Why, my good cousin ? it is good to grow. 
 
 York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper. 
 My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow 
 More tlian my brother ; " Ay," quoth my uncle Gloster, 
 
 Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace :" 
 And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast. 
 Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste. 
 
 Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not hold 
 In him that did object the same to thee : 
 He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young, 
 So long a growing, and so leisurely, 
 That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. 
 
 Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam, 
 
 Duch. I hope he is ; but yet let mothers doubt. 
 
 York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd, 
 I could have given my uncle s grace a flout, 
 To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. 
 
 Duch. How, my young York ? I prithee let me 
 hear it. 
 
 York. Marry, they say, my uncle grev/ so fast, 
 That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old ; 
 'T was full two years ere I could get a tooth. 
 Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. 
 
372 
 
 KING IIICIIARD III. 
 
 [Acr II. 
 
 Duch. I prithee, pretty York, who told thee this? 
 York. Grandam, his nurse. 
 
 Dtich. His nurse ! why, she was dead ere thou wast 
 born. 
 
 York. If 't were not she, I cannot tell who told me. 
 Q. Eliz. A parlous boy : Go to, you are too shrewd. 
 Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the child. 
 Q. Eliz. Pitchers have ears. 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Arch. Here comes a messenger : 
 
 What news? 
 
 Mess. Such news, my lord, as grieves me to report. 
 Q. Eliz. How doth the prince ? 
 
 Mess. Well, madam, and in health. 
 
 Duch. What is thy news ? 
 
 Mess. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are scut (o Pom- 
 fret, 
 
 And with them sir Thomas Vauglian, prisoners. 
 
 Duch. Who hath committed them ? 
 
 Mess. The mighty dukes, Gloster and Buckingham 
 
 Arch. For what offence ? 
 
 Mess. The sum of all I can I have disclos'd ; 
 Why, or for what, the nobles were committed. 
 Is all unknown to m.e, my gracious lord. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house ! 
 The tiger now hath seiz'd tlie gentle hind ; 
 Insulting tyranny begins to jut 
 Upon the innocent and awless throne : 
 Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre ! 
 I see, as in a map, the end of all. 
 
 Duch. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, 
 How many of you have mine eyes beljeld ! 
 My husband lost liis life to get the crown ; 
 And often up and down my sons were toss'd, 
 For me to joy, and weep, their gain and loss : 
 And being seated, and domestic broils 
 
Scene IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD HI. 
 
 Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, 
 Make war upon tliemselves j brother to brother, 
 Blood to blood, self against self : O, preposterous 
 And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen ; 
 Or let me die, to look on death no more ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Come, come, my boy, we will to sanctuary. 
 Madam, farewell. 
 
 Duch. Stay, I will go with you. 
 
 Q. Eliz. You have no cause. 
 
 Arch. My gracious lady, go, 
 
 [To the Quei':n. 
 And thither bear your tieasure and your goods. 
 For my part, I '11 resign unto your grace 
 The seal 1 keep : And so betide to me, 
 As well I tender you, and all of yours! 
 Qi\ T 11 conduct you to the sanctuary. \_Excdnt 
 
374 KING llICnAllD lil. [.\ct III. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 SCENE I.—Loridon. A Street, 
 
 The ttmmpets sound. Enter the Prince of Wai.es, 
 Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal Bouchier, and 
 others. 
 
 Buck. W elcome, sweet prince, to London, to your 
 chamber. 
 
 Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign: 
 The weary way hath made you melancholy. 
 
 Prince. No, uncle ; but our crosses on the way 
 Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy : 
 i want more uncles here to welcome me. 
 
 Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years 
 Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit : 
 No more can yo\x distinguish of a man 
 Than of his outwiird show ; which, God he knows, 
 Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. 
 Those uncles which you want were dangerous; 
 Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, 
 But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : 
 God keep you from them, and from such false friends ! 
 
 Prince. God keep me from false friends ! but they 
 •,vere none. 
 
 Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet 
 you. 
 
 Eoiter the Lord Mayor, and his Train. 
 May. God bless your grace with health and happy 
 days I 
 
 Prince. I thank you, good my lord ; — and thank 
 you all. — [^Exeunt Mayor, ^c. 
 
 I thought my mother and my brother York 
 Would long ere this have met us on the way : 
 
Scene I.j KING IIICIIARD III. 375 
 
 Fie, what a slug is Hastings ! that he comes not 
 To tell us whether they will come, or no. 
 
 Enter Hastings. 
 
 Buck. And in good time, here comes the sweating 
 lord. 
 
 Prince. Welcome, my lord : What, will our mother 
 come ''i 
 
 Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, not I, 
 The queen your mother, and your brother York, 
 Have taken sanctuary : The tender prince 
 Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, 
 But by his mother was perforce withheld. 
 
 Buck. Fie ! what an indirect and peevish course 
 Is this of hers ! — Lord cardinal, will your grace 
 Persuade the qupen to send the duke of York 
 Unto his princely brother presently ? 
 If she deny, lord Hastings, go with him. 
 And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. 
 
 Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory 
 Can from his mother win the duke of York, 
 Anon expect him here : But if she be obdurate 
 To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid 
 We should infringe the holy privilege 
 Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land 
 Would I be guilty of so great a sin. 
 
 Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord, 
 Too ceremonious and traditional : 
 Weigh it but with the grossness of this age. 
 You break not sanctuary in seizing him. 
 The benefit thereof is always granted 
 To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place, 
 And those who have th.e wit to claim the place : 
 This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it ; 
 And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it : 
 Then, taking him from thence that is not there, 
 You break no privilege nor charter there. 
 
376 
 
 KING RTCIIARD III. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Oft liave I heard of sanctuary men ; 
 But sanctuary cliildren ne'er till now. 
 
 Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once. 
 Come on, lord Hastings, will you go with me ? 
 
 Hast. I go, my lord. 
 
 Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you 
 
 may. [^Exeunt Cardinal aiid Hastings. 
 
 Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, 
 Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? 
 
 Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal self. 
 If I may counsel you, some day or two 
 Your highness shall repose you at the Tower : 
 Then where you please, and^ sliall he thought most fit 
 For your best health and recreation. 
 
 Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place : — 
 Did Julius Caisar build that place, my lord? 
 
 Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place ; 
 Which, since, succeeding ages have re -edified. 
 
 Prince. Is it upon record ? or else reported 
 Successively from age to age, he built it ? 
 
 Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. 
 
 Prince. But say, my lord, it were not register'd ; 
 IMethinks, the truth sliould live from age to age, 
 As 't were retail'd^ to all posterity, 
 Even to the general all-ending day. 
 
 GIq. So wise so young, they say, do never live long. 
 
 Prince. AVhat say you, uncle ? 
 
 Glo. I say, without characters,^ fame lives long. 
 Thus, like tiie formal Vice Iniquity, 1 [/!'///> 
 I moralize two meanings in one word.** j 
 
 * JFhere is understood liere ; if it were repeated, there wo\dd 
 l)<i no difTiculty in tlie oonstnictiou of the sentence. 
 
 b Retailed. Retail and detail^ accordinji; to TooUj', arc both 
 derived from tale — the past participle of the Anglo-Saxon verb 
 tell an, to tell. The truth **rctaird to all pobterity " is the 
 truth retold to all posterity. 
 
 ^ JFitliout c/ut7Y/cttTA— without the help of letters. 
 
 J The equivocation which Richard uses consists in the rc[»e- 
 
 [^Aside. 
 
ScENt I.] 
 
 KING KlCliARD III. 
 
 Prince. Tliat Julius Caesar was a famous man : 
 With what liis valour did enrich his wit, 
 His wit set down to make his valour live : 
 Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ; 
 For now he lives in fame, though not in life. — 
 I 11 tell you what, my cousin Buckingham. 
 
 Buck. What, my gracious lord ? 
 
 Prince. An if 1 live until I be a man, 
 I '11 win our ancient right in France again. 
 Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king. 
 
 Glo. Short summers lightly'^ have a forward spring. 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 Enter York, Hastings, the Cardinal. 
 
 Biich. Now, in good time, here comes the duke of 
 York. 
 
 Prince. Richard of York I how fares our noble bro- 
 ther? 
 
 York. Well, my dread ^ lord; so must I call you 
 now. 
 
 Prince. Ay, brother ; to our grief, as it is youxs : 
 Too late° he died, that might have kept tliat title. 
 Which by his death hath lost much majesty. 
 
 Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York ? 
 
 York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, 
 You said that idle weeds are fast in growth : 
 The prince my brotlier hath outgrown me far, 
 
 Glo. He hath, my lord. 
 
 York And therefore is he idle? 
 
 Glo. O, my fair cousin, I must not say so. 
 
 tition of the words " live long," wliich the Prince lias caught, 
 but with a different " meaning." He lias moralized " two merm- 
 ings" by retaining the same conclusion of his sentence, or 
 *' word." 
 * 7.j^/it/y— commonly. 
 
 b Dreadf most dread, was a kingly epithet — Be^v metuendissi- 
 mus. 
 
 Late—lately. 
 
378 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Acr iU 
 
 York. Then he is more beholden to you than I. 
 Glo. He may command me, as my sovereign ; 
 But you have power in me, as in a kirisiiaai). 
 York. I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger. 
 Glo. My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. 
 Prince. A beggar, brother ? 
 
 York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will give ; 
 And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give. 
 Glo. A greater gift than that I '11 give my cousin. 
 York. A greater gift ? O, that 's the sword to it. 
 Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. 
 York. O then, I see, you will part but with lighi, 
 gifts 
 
 In weightier tilings you '11 say a beggar, nay. 
 Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear. 
 York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. 
 Glo. What, would you have my weapon, little lord? 
 Yo7^k, I would, that I might thank you as you call 
 me. 
 
 Glo. How? 
 York. Little. 
 
 Prince, My lord of York will still be cross in talk ; 
 Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. 
 
 York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me : 
 Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ; 
 Because that I am little, like an ape, 
 He thinks that you should bear me on yout shoulders. 
 
 Buck. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons ! 
 To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, 
 He prettily and ap<^ly taunts himself: 
 So cunning, and so young, is wonderful. 
 
 Glo. My lord, will 't please you pass along ? 
 Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham, 
 Will to your mother, to entreat of her 
 To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. 
 
 York. What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord ? 
 
 Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so. 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 379 
 
 York. I shall not sleep in quiet at tlie Tower. 
 
 Glo. Why, what should you fear'? 
 
 York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost ; 
 My graudam told me he was murther'd there. 
 
 Prince. I fear no uncles dead. 
 
 Glo. Nor none that live, I hope. 
 
 Prince. An if they live, I hope I need not fear. 
 But come, my lord, and, with a heavy heart. 
 Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. 
 
 lEx. Prin., York, Hast., Card., and Attendants. 
 
 Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating York 
 Was not incensed^ by his subtle mother 
 To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously ? 
 
 Glo. No doubt, no doubt : O, 't is a parlous boy ; 
 Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable ; 
 He 's all the mother's, from the top to toe. 
 
 Buck. Well, let them rest. 
 Come hither, Catesby ; thou art sworn 
 As deeply to etfect what we intend. 
 As closely to conceal what we impart : 
 Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way ; 
 What think'st thou ? is it not an easy matter 
 To make William lord Hastings of our mind, 
 For the instalment of this noble duke 
 In the seat royal of this famous isle ? 
 
 Gate. He, for his father's sake, so loves the prince. 
 That he will not be won to aught against him. 
 
 Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley ? will not 
 he? 
 
 Gate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. 
 Buck. Well then, no more but this : Go, gentle 
 Catesby, 
 
 And, as it were far off, sound thou lord Hastings 
 How he doth stand affected to our purpose ; 
 And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, 
 To sit about the coronation. 
 
 ^ Incensed — incited. 
 
380 
 
 KING i iCHARD III. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 If thou dost find him tractable to us, 
 
 Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons ; 
 
 If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, 
 
 Be thou so too ; and so break oiY the talk, 
 
 And give us notice of his inclination : 
 
 For we to-morrow hold divided councils, 
 
 Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd. 
 
 Glo. Commend me to lord William: tell iilm, 
 Catesby, 
 
 His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries 
 To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle ; 
 And bid my lord, for joy of this good news, 
 Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. 
 
 Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly. 
 
 Cate. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. 
 
 Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep ? 
 
 Cate. You shall, my lord. 
 
 Glo. At Crosby-house, Ihere shall you find us both, 
 
 [Exit Catesl'y. 
 
 Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we per- 
 ceive 
 
 Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots ? 
 
 Glo, Chop off his head ; — something we will deter- 
 mine : — 
 
 And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me 
 The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables 
 Whereof the king my brother was possessed. 
 
 Buck. I '11 claim that promise at your grace's hand. 
 
 Glo. And look to have it yielded with all kindness. 
 Come, let us sup betimes ; that afterwards 
 We may digest our complots in some form, [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.— Before Lord Hastings 5 House. 
 Eiiter a Messenger. 
 Mess. My lord, my lord ! [Knocking. 
 Ilast. [Within.'] Who knocks? 
 
Scene II.] KING RICHARD III. 381 
 
 Mess. One from the lord Stanley. 
 Hast. [Within.'] What is 't o'clock ? 
 Mess. Upon the stroke of four. 
 
 E7iter Hastings. 
 Hast. Cannot my lord Stanley sleep tliese tedious 
 nights ? 
 
 Mess. So it appears by that I have to say. 
 First, he commends him to your noble self. 
 Hast. What then? 
 
 Mess. Then certifies your lordship, that this night 
 He dreamt the boar had rased off his helm : 
 Besides, he says, there are two councils kept ; 
 And that may be determin'd at the one, 
 Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. 
 Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure, — 
 If you will presently take horse with him. 
 And with all speed post with him toward the north, 
 To shun the danger tliat his soul divines. 
 
 Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord : 
 Bid him not fear the separated councils : 
 His honour and myself are at the one, 
 And at the other is my good friend Catesby ; 
 Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us 
 Whereof I shall not have intelligence. 
 Tell him, his fears are shallow, without instance: a 
 And, for his dreams, I wonder he 's so simple 
 To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers : 
 To fly the boar, before the boar pursues. 
 Were to incense the boar to follow us, 
 And make pursuit Avhere he did mean no chase. 
 Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ; 
 And we will both together to the Tower, 
 Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. 
 
 Mess. I '11 go, my lord, and tell him what you say. 
 
 [Exit, 
 
 * The word instance signifies here, as in other passages of 
 Shakspere, example, fact in proof , coj-rt>horation. 
 
 VOL. VI, 2d 
 
 I 
 
S82 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act ill, 
 
 Enter Catesby. 
 
 Cate. Many good morrows to my noble lord ! 
 
 Hast. Good morrow, Catesby ; you are early stirriii^^ ; 
 What news, what news, in this our tottering stated 
 
 Cate. It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord ; 
 And I believe will never stand upright 
 Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. 
 
 Hast. How ! wear the garland ! dost thou mean the 
 crown ? 
 
 Cate. Ay, my good lord. 
 
 Hast. I '11 have this crown of mine cut from m) 
 shoulders 
 
 Before I '11 see the crown so foul misplac'd. 
 But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it ? 
 
 Cate. Ay, on my life ; and hopes to find you forward 
 Upon his party, for the gain thereof : 
 And, thereupon, he sends you tliis good news, — 
 That, this same very day, your enemies. 
 The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. 
 
 Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news. 
 Because they have been still my adversaries : 
 But, that I '11 give my voice on Richard's side. 
 To bar my masters heirs in true descent, 
 God knows, I will not do it, to the death. 
 
 Cate. God keep your lordship in that gracious mind! 
 
 Hast, But I shall laugh at this a twelvemonth hence^ 
 That they which brought me in my master's hate, 
 I live to look upon their tragedy. 
 Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, 
 I '11 send some packing that yet think not on 't. 
 
 Cate. 'T is a vile thing to die, my gracious lord. 
 When men are unprepar'd, and look not lor it. 
 
 Hast. O monstrous, monstrous ! and so falls it out 
 With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey : and so 't will do 
 With some men else, who think themselves as safe 
 As thou and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear 
 To princely Richard, and to Buckingham. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 KING RICIIAllD III. 
 
 Cate. The princes both make high account of you, — 
 For they accjount his head upon the bridge. yAsidc. 
 Hast. I know they do ; and I have well deserv'd it 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 Come on, come on ; where is your boar-sj)ear, man ? 
 Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided ''i 
 
 Stan. My lord, good morrow ; and good morrow^ 
 Catesby : — 
 You may jest on, bat, by the holy rood, 
 I do not like these several councils, L 
 
 Hast. My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours ; 
 And never, in my days, 1 do protest. 
 Was it so precious to me as 't is now : 
 Think you, but that I know our state secure, 
 I would be so triumphant as I am ? 
 
 Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from 
 London, 
 
 Were jocund, and supposed their states were sure, 
 And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust ; 
 But yet, you see, how soon the day o'ercast. 
 This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt ; 
 Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward ! 
 What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent. 
 Hast. Come, come, have with you. — Wot you wliat, 
 my lord ? 
 
 To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. 
 
 Stall. They, for their truth, might better wear tiieir 
 heads, 
 
 Than some that iaave accus'd them wear their hats. 
 But come, my lord, let 's away. 
 
 Eiiter a Pursuivant. 
 
 Hast. Go on before, I '11 talk with this good fellow. 
 
 [^Exeimt Stanley aiicl Catesby. 
 How now, sirrah ? how goes the world with thee ? 
 Purs. The better that yoiir lordship please to ask. 
 
 2 D 2 
 
384 
 
 KING mCHARB III. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Hast. I tell thee, man, is better with me now, 
 Than when thou mett'st me last where now we meet : 
 Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, 
 By the suggestion of the queen's allies ; 
 Bat now, I tell thee, (keep it to thyself,) 
 This day those enemies are put to death, 
 And I in better state than e'er I was. 
 
 Purs. God hold it, to your honour's good content ! 
 
 Hast. Gramercy, fellow : There, drink that for me. 
 
 \_Throtoing him his purse. 
 
 Purs. I thank your honour. \_Exit Pursuivant. 
 
 Enter a Priest. 
 
 Pr. Well met, my lord ; I am glad to see yoiu 
 honour. 
 
 Hast. I thank thee, good sir John, with all my heart. 
 I am in your debt for your last exercise ; 
 Come tlie next Sabbath, and I will content you. 
 
 Pr, 1 '11 wait upon your lordship. 
 
 Enter Buckingham. 
 
 Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord ctiamber* 
 
 lain? 
 
 Your friends at Pomfret they do need the priest ; 
 Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. 
 
 Hast. 'Good faith, and when I met this holy man, 
 The men you talk of came into my mind. 
 Wliat, go you toward the Tower ? 
 
 Biick. I do, my lord ; but long I c;innot stay there i 
 I shall return before your lordship thence. 
 
 Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there. 
 
 Buck. And supper too, although thou know'st it not. 
 
 [^Aside. 
 
 Come, will you go ? 
 
 Hast. I '11 wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt 
 
Scene III.] KING RICHARD III. 
 
 385 
 
 SCENE III.— Pomfret. Before tJie Castle. 
 
 Enter Ratcliff, with a guard, conductbuf Riveks, 
 Grey, and VxVUghan, to execution. 
 
 Riv, Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this, — 
 To-day shalt thou behold a subject die, 
 For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. 
 
 Grey, God keep the prince from all the pack of 
 you! 
 
 A knot you are of damned bloodsuckers. 
 
 Vaug/i. You live that shall cry woe for this here- 
 after. 
 
 Rat. Despatch ; the limit of your lives is out. 
 
 Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret ! O thou bloody prison. 
 Fatal and ominous to noble peers ! 
 Within the guilty closure of thy walls 
 Richard the second liere was hack'd to deatli : 
 And, for more slander to thy dismal seat. 
 We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink. 
 
 Greg. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon our 
 heads, 
 
 When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, 
 For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. 
 
 Riv. Then curs'd she Richard, then curs'd she Buck- 
 ingham, 
 
 Then curs'd she Hastings : — O, remember, God, 
 To hear her prayer for them, as now for us ! 
 And for my sister, and her princely sons, 
 Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, 
 Wliich, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt ! 
 Rat. Make haste, the hour of deatli is expiate.f» 
 Riv. Come, Grey, — come, Vaughan, — let us here 
 embrace : 
 
 Farewell, until we meet again in neaven. \ Exeimt. 
 ^ Expiate— ex\nrcd. 
 
386 
 
 KING lUCHARD III. 
 
 [Act 111. 
 
 SCENE IV.—Londoii. A Boom in the Tower. 
 
 Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, the Bishop of 
 Ely, Ratcliff, Lovel, and others, sittiiiy at a 
 table : Officers of the eoimcil attending. 
 
 Hast. Now, noble peers, tlie cause why we are met 
 Is, to deteiTnine of the coronation : 
 In God's name, speak, vvlien is the royal day ? 
 
 Buck, Are all things ready for that royal time I 
 
 Stan. They are ; and wants but nomination. 
 
 Ely. To-morrow then I judge a happy day. 
 
 Buck. Who knows the lord protector's mind herein ? 
 Who is most inward ^ with the noble duke ? 
 
 Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest know his 
 mind. 
 
 Buck. We know each other's faces : for our hearrs, 
 He knows no more of mine than I of yours ; 
 Nor I of his, my lord, tlian you of mine ; 
 Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. 
 
 Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well • 
 But, for his purpose in the coronation, 
 I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd 
 His gracious pleasure any way therein : 
 But you, my iionourable lords, may name the time j 
 And in the duke's behalf I '11 give my voice, 
 Which, I presume, he '11 take in gentle part. 
 
 Enter Glostbr. 
 
 Ely. In happy time, here comes the duke liimself. 
 
 Glo. My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow : 
 I have been long a sleeper ; but, I trust. 
 My absence dotli neglect no great design, 
 Which by my presence mighc have been concluded. 
 
 Buck, Had you not come upon your cue, my lord, 
 
 " Inward — intimate — in confulence. 
 
SCKNE IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 387 
 
 William lord Hastings liad pronounc'd your part, — 
 I mean, your voice, — for crowning of the king. 
 
 Gio, Than my lord Hastings no man might be 
 bolder ; 
 
 His lordship knows me well, and loves me well. 
 My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, 
 I saw good strawberries in your garden there : 
 I do beseech you send for some of tnem. 
 
 Ely. Marry and will, my lord, with all my heart. 
 
 [^Exit Ely. 
 
 Glo. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. 
 
 \_Takes him aside. 
 Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business ; 
 And finds the testy gentleman so hot 
 That he will lose his head, ere give consent 
 His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, 
 Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. 
 
 Buck. Withdraw yourself awhile, I '11 go with you. 
 
 [^Exeunt Gloster and Buckingham. 
 
 Stan. We have not yet set down tliis day of trium])h. 
 To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden ; 
 For I myself am not so well provided, 
 As else I would be, were the day piolong'd. 
 
 Re-enter Bishop of Ely. 
 
 Ely. Where is my lord the duke of Gloster ? I have 
 sent for these strawberries. 
 
 Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this 
 morning ; 
 
 There 's some conceit or other likes him well. 
 When that he bids good morrow with such spirit. 
 I think there 's ne'er a man in Christendom 
 Can lesser hide his love or hate than he ; 
 For by his face straight shall you know his heart. 
 
 Stan, What of his heart perceive you in his face. 
 By any livelihood ^ he show'd to-day ? 
 
 * Livelihood— \\.\-e\\x\Qss — clieerfuhiess. 
 
388 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Hast. Marry, that with no man here he is offended ; 
 For were he, he had shown it in his looks. 
 
 Re-eiiter Gloster and Buckingham. 
 
 Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve 
 That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
 Of damned witchcraft ; and that have prevailed 
 Upon my body with their hellish cliarms ? 
 
 Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my lord, 
 Makes me most forward in tiiis princely presence 
 To doom the olfenders, whosoe'er they be : 
 I say, my lord, they have deserved death. 
 
 Glo. Then be your eyes the witness of tlieir evil ! 
 Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine ami 
 Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up : 
 And this is Edward s wife, that monstrous witch. 
 Consorted with that harlot, strumj^et Shore, 
 That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. 
 
 Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble lord,-— 
 
 Glo. If ? thou protector of this damned strumpet, 
 Talk'st thou to me of ifs ? — Thou art a traitor : — 
 Off with his head ; — now, by saint Paul I swear, 
 I will not dine until I see the same ! 
 Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done ; 
 The rest that love me, rise, and follow me. 
 
 [Exeunt Council, loith Gloster and Buckingham. 
 
 Hast. Woe, woe for England ! not a whit for me ; 
 For I, too fond, might have prevented this": 
 Stanley did dream the boar did rase his helm ; 
 And I did scorn it, and disdained to fly. 
 Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, 
 And started, when he look'd upon the Tower, 
 As loth to bear me to the slaughterhouse. 
 O, now I need the priest that spake to me ; 
 I now repent I told the pursuivant. 
 As too triumphing, how mine enemies 
 To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher' d^ 
 
Scene V.J KING RICHARD III. 
 
 389 
 
 And I myself secure in grace and favour. 
 
 O, Margaret, Margaret I now thy heavy curse 
 
 Is lighted on poor Plastings' wretched head.^ 
 
 Bat. Come, come, despatch, the duke would be at 
 dinner ; 
 
 Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head. 
 Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men, 
 
 Which we more hunt for than the grace of God ! 
 
 Who builds his hope in air of your good looks. 
 
 Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ; 
 
 Ready, with every nod, to tumble down 
 
 Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 
 
 Lov. Come, come, despatch ; 't is bootless to exclaim 
 Hast. O, bloody Richard ! — miserable England ! 
 
 I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee 
 
 That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. 
 
 Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head : 
 
 They smile at me who shortly shall be dead. \^Exewit. 
 
 SCENE v.— The same. The Tower Walls. 
 
 Filter Gloster a7id Buckingham, m rotten armoicr, 
 marvellous ill-favoured.^ 
 
 Glo. Come, cousin, canst thou quake and change thy 
 colour, 
 
 Murther thy breath in middle of a word. 
 
 And then again begin, and stop again, 
 
 As if thou v/ert distraught and mad with terror ? 
 
 litick. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian ; 
 Speak, and look back, and ]jry on every side, 
 Tremble and start at wagging of a sti aw, 
 Intending ^ deep suspicion : ghastly looks 
 Are at my service, like enforced smiles; 
 And both are ready in their offices, 
 
 ^ This is the quaint stage direction of the folio edition of 
 1623. 
 
 b Intending — pretending. 
 
390 KING RICHARD III. [Act HI. 
 
 At any time, to grace my stratagems. 
 But what, is Catesby gone ? 
 
 Glo. He is ; and, see, he brings the mayor along. 
 
 Enter the Lord Mayor and Catesby. 
 
 Buck, Lord mayor, — 
 
 Glo. Look to the drawbridge there. 
 
 Buck. Hark 1 a drum. 
 
 Glo. Catesby, overlook the walls. 
 
 Buck. Lord Mayor, the reason we nave sent — 
 
 Glo. Look back, defend thee, here are enemies. 
 
 Buck. God and our innocency defend and guard us ! 
 
 Enter Lovel and Ratcliff, with Hastings'6' head. 
 
 Glo. Be patient, they are friends ; Ratcliff and Lovel. 
 
 Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, 
 The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. 
 
 Glo. So dear I lov'd the man, that I must weep. 
 I took him for the plainest harmless creature 
 That breath'd upon the earth a christian ; 
 Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded 
 The history of all her secret thoughts : 
 So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue, 
 That, his apparent open guilt omitted, — 
 I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, — 
 He liv'd from all attainder of suspects. 
 
 Buck. Well, well, he was the covert 'st sheltered 
 traitor 
 Tliat ever liv'd. 
 
 W ould you imagine, or almost believe, 
 (Were 't not that, by great preservation, 
 We live to tell it you,) the subtle traitor 
 This day had plotted, in the council-house, 
 To murther me, and my good lord of Gloster ? 
 May. Had he done so ? 
 
 Glo. What ! think you we are Turks or infidels "? 
 Or that \vc would, against the form of law, 
 
SCENI V.J 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death, 
 But that the extreme peril of the casOj 
 The peace of England, and our persons' safety, 
 Enforc'd us to this execution ? 
 
 May. Now, fair befall you ! he deserv'd his deatli ; 
 And your good graces both have well ])roceeded, 
 To warn false traitors from the like attempts. 
 I never look'd for better at his hands, 
 After he once fell in with mistress Shore. 
 
 Glo. Yet had we not determined lie should die, 
 Until your lordship came to see his end ; 
 Which now the loving haste of these our friends, 
 Something against our meaning, hath prevented : 
 Because, my lord, we would have had you heard 
 The traitor speak, and timorously confess 
 The manner and the purpose of his treasons ; 
 That you might well have signified the same 
 Unto tlie citizens, who, haply, may 
 Misconster us in him, and wail his death. 
 
 May. But, m.y good lord, your grace's word shall 
 serve 
 
 As well as I had seen and heard him speak : 
 And do not doubt, right noble princes both. 
 But I '\\ acquaint our duteous citizens 
 With all your just proceedings in this case. 
 
 Glo. And to that end wc wish'd your lordship here, 
 To avoid the censures of the car})ing world. 
 
 Buck. But since you came too late of our intent, 
 Yet witness what you hear we did intend : 
 And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. 
 
 \_Exit Lord Mayor. 
 
 Glo. Go after, after, cousin Buckingham. 
 The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post : 
 There, at your meetest vantage of the time, 
 Infer the bastardy of Edward's children : 
 Tell them, liow Edward put to death a citizen, 
 Only for saving he would make his son 
 
392 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act III. 
 
 Heir to the crown ; meaning, indeed, his nouse. 
 
 Which by the sign thereof was termed so. 
 
 Moreover, urge his hateful luxury. 
 
 And bestial appetite in change of lust ; 
 
 Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, wives, 
 
 Even where his raging eye, or savage heart, 
 
 Without control lusted to make a prey. 
 
 Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person : — 
 
 Tell them, when that my mother went with cliild 
 
 Of that insatiate Edward, noble York, 
 
 My princely father, then had wars in France ; 
 
 And, by true computation of the time, 
 
 Found that the issue was not his begot ; 
 
 Which well appeared in his lineaments, 
 
 Being nothing like the noble duke my father : 
 
 Yet touch this sparingly, as 't were far off; 
 
 Because, my lord, you know my mother lives. 
 
 Buck. Doubt not, my lord : 1 '11 play the orator, 
 As if' the golden fee for which I plead 
 Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu, 
 
 Glo. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's 
 castle ; 
 
 Where you shall find me well accompanied 
 With reverend fathers, and well-learned bishops. 
 
 Buck. I go ; and, towards three or four o'clock. 
 Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. 
 
 \Exit Buckingham. 
 
 Glo. Go, Lovel, witli all speed to doctor Shaw. 
 Go thou \to Gate. ] to friar Penker ; — bid them both 
 Meet me, within this liour, at Baynard's castle. 
 
 \Exeiint Lovel and Catesey. 
 Now will I go, to take some privy order 
 To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight ; 
 And to give order, that no manner person ^ 
 Have, any time, recourse unto the princes. \Exlt. 
 
 ^ No manner person. This is the reading of the folio, and is 
 a common idiom of our old language. 
 
Sc8. VI., VII.] KING RICHARD III. 
 
 393 
 
 SCENE VI.— ^ Street 
 
 Enter a Scrivener. 
 
 Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good lord Hast- 
 ings; 
 
 Wliich in a set hand fairly is erig;ross'd, 
 
 That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. 
 
 And mark how well the sequel hangs togetlier : 
 
 Eleven hoars I have spent to write it over. 
 
 For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me ; 
 
 The precedent was full as long a doing : 
 
 And yet within these five hours Hastings livM, 
 
 Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty. 
 
 Here 's a good world the while ! Who is so gross 
 
 That cannot see this palpable device ? 
 
 Yet who so bold but says he sees it not? 
 
 Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought, 
 
 When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. [Exit. 
 
 SCENE VII.— same. Court o/Bayriard's 
 Castle. 
 
 Enter Gloster and Buckingham, meeting. 
 
 Glo. How noAv, how now ? what say the citizens V 
 
 Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord, 
 The citizens are mum, say not a word. 
 
 Glo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children ? 
 
 Bu^k. I did ; with his contract with lady Lucy, 
 And his contract by deputy in France : 
 The insatiate greediness of his desire. 
 And his enforcement of the city wives ; 
 His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy. 
 As being got, your father then iti France ; 
 And his resemblance being not like the duke. 
 Withal, I did infer your lineaments. 
 Being the right idea of your father. 
 Both in your form and nobleness of mind : 
 
394 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act III 
 
 Laid open all your victories in Scotland, 
 Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, 
 Your bounty, virtue, fiiir humility ; 
 Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose 
 Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discfjurse. 
 And, when my oratory grew toward ^ end, 
 I bade them that did love their country's good 
 Cry — " God save Richard, England's royal king ! " 
 Glo. And did they so ? 
 
 Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not a word 
 But, like dumb statuas ^ or breathing stones, 
 Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale. 
 Which when I saw I reprehended them ; 
 And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful silence : 
 His answer was, tiie people were not used 
 To be spoke to but by the recorder. 
 Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again ; — 
 " Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferrM 
 But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. 
 When he had done, some followers of mine own, 
 At lower end o' tjie hall, hurl'd up their caps, 
 And some ten voices cried, " God save king Richard ! " 
 And thus I took the vantage of those few, — 
 " Thanks, gentle citizens, and friends,'' quoth 1 j 
 " This general applause, and cheerful shout, 
 Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard :" 
 And even here brake oil] and came away. 
 
 Glo. What tongueless blocks were they! Would 
 they not speak ? 
 Will not the mayor then and his brethren come ? 
 
 Buck. The mayor is here at hand : intend some fear ; 
 Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit : 
 And look you, get a prayer-book in your hand, 
 And stand between two churchmen, good my lord ; 
 
 ^ Toward, in tlie folio ; the j^MJii tos, to an. 
 b Statuas. Tlie word ht^re, <^s well as in * The Two Gentlo 
 men of Verona' (Act IV. Sfeao 4), inob:\])ly rr\(}r\ns picture. 
 
Scene Vfl.J KING RICHARD III. 395 
 
 For on that ground I '11 make a holy descant : 
 
 And be not easily won to our requests ; 
 
 Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. 
 
 Glo. I go : And if you plead as well for them 
 As I can say nay to thee for myself, 
 No doubt we '11 bring it to a happy issue. 
 
 Buck. Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord mayor knocks. 
 
 \^Exit Gloster. 
 
 Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens. 
 Welcome, my lord : I dance attendance here ; 
 I think the duke will not be spoke withal. 
 
 Enter from the castle, Catksby. 
 Now, Catesby ! what says your lord to my request ? 
 
 Cate. He doth entreat yoiu- grace, my noble lord, 
 To visit him to-morrow, or next day : 
 He is within, with two right reverend fathers, 
 Divinely bent to meditation : 
 And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd, 
 To draw him from his holy exercise. 
 
 Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke ; 
 Tell him, myselt* the mayor and aldermen. 
 In deep designs, in matter of great moment. 
 No less importing than our general good. 
 Are come to have some conference with his grace. 
 
 Cate. I '11 signify so much unto him straight. \^Exit. 
 
 Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward ! 
 He is not lulling on a lewd love-bed, 
 But on his knees at meditation ; 
 Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, 
 But meditating with two deep divines ; 
 Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, 
 But praying, to enricli his watchful soul : 
 Happy were England would this virtuous prince 
 Take on his grace the sovereignty thereof : 
 But, sure, I fear we shall not win him to it. 
 
 ^ Engross — to make gross. 
 
396 
 
 KING RICHARD III. [Act III. 
 
 May. Marry, God defend his grace should say us 
 nay ! 
 
 Buck. I fear he will : Here Catesby comes again 
 Re-enter Catesby. 
 Now Catesby, what says his grace ? 
 
 Cate. He wonders to what end you have assembled 
 Such troops of citizens to come to him. 
 His grace not being warn'd thereof before ; 
 He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. 
 
 Buck. Sorry I am my noble cousin should 
 Suspect me, that I mean no good to him : 
 By Heaven, we come to him in perfect love ; 
 And so once more return and tell his grace. [_Exit Cate. 
 When holy and devout religious men 
 Are at their beads, 't is much to draw them thence ; 
 So sweet is zealous contemplation. 
 
 Enter Gloster, in a gallery above, between Two 
 Bishops. Catesby returns. 
 
 May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two clerg}- ' 
 men! 
 
 Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, 
 To stay him from the fall of vanity : 
 And, see, a book of prayer in his hand ; 
 Ti'ue ornaments to know a holy man. 
 Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, 
 Lend favourable ear to our requests; 
 And pardon us the interrujftion 
 Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. 
 
 Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology ; 
 I do beseech your grace to pardon me, 
 Who, earnest in the service of my God, 
 Deferred the visitation of my friends. 
 But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure ? 
 
 Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above, 
 And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. 
 
Scene VII.] KING RICHAllD III. 
 
 397 
 
 Glo. I do suspect I have done some offence, 
 That seems disgracious in the city's eye ; 
 And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. 
 
 Buck. You have, my lord : Would it might please 
 your grace, 
 On our entreaties, to amend your fault ! 
 
 Glo, Else wherefore breathe I in a christian land ? 
 
 A^iick. Know, then, it is your fault, that you resign 
 The supreme seat, the throne majestical, 
 Tne sceptred office of your ancestors. 
 Your state of fortune, and your due of birth, 
 The lineal ^lory of your royal house. 
 To the corruption of a blemish'd stock : 
 WhileS; in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, 
 (Whicn here we waken to our country *s good,) 
 The noble isle doth want her proper limbs ; 
 Her face defac'd with scars of infamy. 
 Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants. 
 And almost shouldered in the swallowing gulf 
 Of dark forge tfuln ess and deep oblivion. 
 Which to recure we heartily solicit 
 Your gracious self to take- on you the charge 
 And kingly government of this your land : 
 Not as \ rotector, steward, substitute, 
 Or lowiy factor for another's gain ; 
 But as successively, from blood to blood. 
 Your right of birth, your empery, your own. 
 For this, consorted with the citizens, 
 Your very worshipful and loving friends. 
 And by their vehement instigation. 
 In this just cause come I to move your grace. 
 
 Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence, 
 Or bitterly to speak in your reproof, 
 Best fitteth my degree, or your condition : 
 If not to answer, you might haply think, 
 Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded 
 To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, 
 
 VOL. VI. 2 E 
 
398 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act II 
 
 Which fondly you would here impose on me ; 
 
 If to reprove you for this suit of yours, 
 
 So season'd with your faithful love to me, 
 
 Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends. 
 
 Therefore, — to speak, and to avoid the first ; 
 
 And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, — • 
 
 Definitively thus I answer you. 
 
 Your love deserves my thanks ; but my des<>rt 
 
 Unmeri^able shuns your high request. 
 
 First, it all obstacles were cut away, 
 
 And that my path were even to the crown, 
 
 As the ripe revenue and due of birth ; 
 
 Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, 
 
 So mighty, and so many, my defects. 
 
 That I would rather hide me from my greatness, 
 
 Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, 
 
 Than in my greatness covet to be hid, 
 
 And in the vapour of my glory smothered. 
 
 But, God be thank'd, there is no need of me j 
 
 (And much I need to help you, were there need ;) 
 
 Tiie royal tree hath left us royal fruit. 
 
 Which, mellow' d by the stealing hours of time, 
 
 Will well become the seat of majesty, 
 
 And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. 
 
 On him I lay that you would lay on me, 
 
 The right and fortune of his happy stars. 
 
 Which God defend that I should wring from him 1 
 
 Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your graco 
 But the respects thereof are nice and trivial. 
 All circumstances well considered. 
 You say that Edward is your brother s son ; 
 So say we too, but not by Edward's wife : 
 For first was he contract to lady Lucy, — 
 Your mother lives a witness to his vow ; 
 And afterwards by substitute betrothVl 
 To Bona, sister to the king of Frajice. 
 These both put off, a poor petitioner, 
 
ScEXE VII.] KING RICHARD III. 
 
 A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, 
 
 A beauty- waning and distressed widow. 
 
 Even in the afternoon of lier best days, 
 
 Made prize and purcliase of his wanton eye, 
 
 Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree 
 
 To base declension and loath'd bigamy ; 
 
 By her, in liis unlawful bed, he got 
 
 This Edward, whom our manners call the prince. 
 
 More bitterly could I expostulate, 
 
 Save that, for reverence to some alive, 
 
 I give a sparing limit to my tongue. 
 
 Then, good my lord, take to your royal self 
 
 This prolfer'd benefit of dignity : 
 
 If not to bless us and the land witlial, 
 
 Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry 
 
 From the corruption of abusing time, 
 
 Unto a lineal true-derived course. 
 
 May. Do, good my lord ; your citizens entreat you. 
 
 BucTc. Refuse not, mighly lord, this profler'd love. 
 
 Cate. O make them joyful, grant their lawful suit, 
 
 Glo. Alas, why would you lieap tliis care on me ? 
 I am unfit for state and majesty : 
 I do beseech you, take it not amiss ; 
 I cannot, nor I will not yield to you. 
 
 Buck. If you refuse it, — as in love and zeal, 
 Loth to depose the child, your brother's son, 
 As well we know your tenderness of lieart, 
 And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse, 
 Which we have noted iu you to your kindred, 
 And equally, indeed, to all estates, — 
 Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no, 
 Your brother "s son shall never reign our king ; 
 But we will plant some other in the throne, 
 To the disgrace and downfal of your house. 
 And in this resolution here we leave you ; — 
 Come, citizens, we will entreat no more, 
 
 2 E 2 
 
400 
 
 KING IlICHAllD III. 
 
 Glo. O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham. 
 
 \_Exeunt Buck, aoicl Citizens. 
 Gate, Call them again, sweet prince, accept theii 
 suit ; 
 
 If you deny them, all the land will rue it. 
 
 Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares ? 
 Call them again ; I am not made of stone, 
 But penetrable to your kind entreaties, \_Exit Catk. 
 Albeit against my conscience and my soul. 
 
 Re-enter Buckingham, and the rest. 
 
 Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men, 
 Since you will buckle fortune on my back, 
 To bear her burthen, whe'r I will or no, 
 I must have patience to endure the load : 
 But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach. 
 Attend the sequel of your imposition. 
 Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me 
 From all the impure blots and stains thereof : 
 For God doth know, and you may partly see, 
 How far I am from the desire of this. 
 
 May. God bless your grace ! we see it, and will say it. 
 
 Glo. In saying so you shall but say the truth. 
 
 Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title, — 
 Long live king Richard, England's worthy king ! 
 
 All. Amen. 
 
 Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd ? 
 Glo. Even when you please, for you will have it so. 
 Buck. To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace 
 And so most joyfully we take our leave. 
 
 Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again : — 
 
 [To the Bishops. 
 
 Farewell, my cousin ; — farewell, gentle friends. [ Ex. 
 
Scene I.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 401 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 SCENE l.-^Before the Tower. 
 
 Enter, m one side, Queen Elizabeth, Duchess op 
 York, aiid Marquis of Dorset ; 07i the othey^, 
 Anne Duchess of Gloster, leading Lady Mar- 
 garet Plantagenet, Clarence'5 young daughter. 
 
 Duch. Who meets us here? — my niece ^ Plantagenet, 
 Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster ? 
 Now, for my life, she 's wandering to the Tower, 
 On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince. 
 Daughter, well met. 
 
 Anne. God give vour graces both 
 
 A happy and a joyful time of day ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. As much to you, good sister ! Whitlier 
 away ? 
 
 An7ie. No further than the Tower ; and, as I guess. 
 Upon the like devotion as yourselves, 
 To gratulate the gentle princes there. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Kind sister, thanks ; we '11 enter all to- 
 gether : 
 
 Enter Brakenbury. 
 
 And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes. 
 
 Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, 
 
 How doth the prince, and my young son of York ? 
 
 BraJc. Right well, dear madam : By your patience, 
 I may not suffer you to visit them ; 
 The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary. 
 
 Q. Eliz. The king ! who 's that ? 
 
 Brak. I mean the lord protector. 
 
 * Niece — grand-daughter. In 'Othello' mpJiews are put for 
 grandchildren. 
 
402 
 
 KING TIICHARD III. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Q. EUz. The Lord protect him from that kingly title ! 
 Hath he set bounds between their love and me ? 
 I am their mother, who shall bar me from them ? 
 
 Diich. I am their fxither's mother, I will see them. 
 
 A7i7ie. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother : 
 Then bring me to their sights ; 1 11 bear thy blame, 
 And take thy office from thee, on my peril. 
 
 Brak, No, madam, no, I may not leave it so; 
 I am bound by oath, and the-refore pardon me. 
 
 [Exit Brakenbury. 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 Stan. Let me but meet you, ladies, one liour hence, 
 And 1 11 salute your grace of York as mother. 
 And reverend looker-on, of two fair queens. 
 Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster, 
 
 [To the Duchess of Gloster. 
 There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. 
 
 Q. Eliz, Ah, cut my lace asunder ! 
 That my pent heart may have some scope to beat. 
 Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. 
 
 A7me. Despiteful tidings ! O unpleasing news ! 
 
 Dor. Be of good cheer : Mother, how fares your grace ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone, 
 Death and destruction dog thee at thy heels ; 
 Thy mother's name is ominous to children : 
 If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas. 
 And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. 
 Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughterhouse. 
 Lest thou increase the number of the dead ; 
 And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse, — 
 Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. 
 
 Stan. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam ; 
 Take all the swift advantage of the hours ; 
 You shall have letters from me to my son 
 In your behalf, to meet you on the way : 
 Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. 
 
KING RICHARD III. 
 
 403 
 
 Diich. O ill-dispersing wind of misery ! 
 O my accursed womb, the bed of death : 
 A cockatrice hast thou hatch VI to the world, 
 Whose unavoitled eye is murtherous ! 
 
 Stan. Come, madam, come ; I in all liaste was sent. 
 
 Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go. 
 O, would to God that the inclusive verge 
 Of golden metal that must round my brow 
 Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain ! 
 Anointed let me be with deadly venom ; 
 And die, ere men can say — God save the queen ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory, 
 To feed my humour ; wish thyself no harm. 
 
 Anne. No ! why ? — When he that is my husband now 
 Came to me, as I followed Henry's corse ; 
 When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands, 
 Which issued from my other angel husband. 
 And that dear saint which then I weeping follow'd ; 
 O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face. 
 This was my wish, — Be thou," quoth I, " accursM, 
 For making me, so young, so old a widow ! 
 And when thou wedd'st let sorrow haunt thy bed ; 
 And be thy wife (if any be so mad) 
 More miserable by the life of thee. 
 Than thou hast made me by my dear lord's death !" 
 Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, 
 Within so small a time, my woman's heart 
 Grossly grew captive to his honey words, 
 And prov'd the subject of mine own soul's curse ; 
 Which hitherto hath held mine eyes from rest : 
 For never yet one hour in his bed 
 Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep. 
 But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. 
 Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick ; 
 And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Poor heart, adieu ! I pity thy complaining. 
 
 Amie. No more than with my soul I mourn tor yours. 
 
404 KING RICHARD III. [Act IV. 
 
 Dor. Farewell, thou woeful wel comer of glory ! 
 Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it ! 
 Duch. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide 
 thee ! [ To Dorset. 
 
 Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee ! 
 
 \ To Anne. 
 
 Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee I 
 
 [ 2'o Q. Elizabeth, 
 I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me ! 
 Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, 
 And each hour s joy wrack'd with a week of teen.^ 
 Q. Eliz. Stay ; yet look back, with me, unto the 
 Tower. 
 
 Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, 
 
 Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls ! 
 
 Rough cradle for such little pretty ones ! 
 
 Rude ragged nurse ! old sullen playfellow 
 
 For tender princes, use my babies well ! 
 
 So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. \ Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11.-—^ Room of State in the Palace. 
 
 Flourish of trumpets. Richard, as Kin(/, upo7i hh 
 throne ; Buckingham, Catesby, a Page, and 
 others. 
 
 K. Rich. Stand all apart. Cousin of Buckingham, — 
 Buch. My gracious sovereign. 
 
 K. Rich. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy 
 advice, 
 
 And thy assistance, is king Richard seated : 
 But shall we wear these glories for a day ? 
 Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them ? 
 
 Buck. Still live they, and for ever let them last ! 
 
 K. Rich. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,^ 
 To try if thou be current gold, indeed : 
 
 ^ Teen — sorrow. ^ Touch — touchstone. 
 
ScENK II.] KING RICHARD III. 405 
 
 Young Edward lives Think now what I would 
 speak. 
 
 Buck. Say on, my loving lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, Buckingham, I say I would be king. 
 Buck, Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned lord. 
 K. Rich. Ha ! am I king 'i 'T is so : but Edward 
 lives. 
 
 Buck. True, noble prince. 
 
 K. Rich. O bitter consequence, 
 
 That Edward still should live ! — True, noble j^rince 1 — 
 Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull : 
 Shall I be plain ? I wish the bastards dead ; 
 And I would have it suddenly performed. 
 What say'st thou, now ? speak suddenly, be brief. 
 
 Bu^k. Your grace may do your pleasure. 
 
 K. Rich. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness 
 freezes : 
 
 Say, have I thy consent that they shall die ? 
 
 Buck. Give me some little breath, some pause, dear 
 lord. 
 
 Before I positively speak in this : 
 I will resolve you herein presently. [Exit Buck. 
 
 Gate. The king is angry ; see, he gnaws his lip. 
 
 \_Aside. 
 
 K. Rich, I will converse with iron-witted fools, 
 
 [Descends from his throne. 
 And unrespective ^ boys ; none are for me 
 That look into me with considerate eyes. 
 High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. 
 Boy! 
 
 Fage. My lord. 
 
 /f. Rich. Know'st thou not any whom corrupting 
 gold 
 
 Would tempt unto a close exploit of death ? 
 
 Page. I know a discontented gentleman, 
 Whose humble means match not his haughty spirit : 
 * Unrespective — inconsiderate. 
 
406 
 
 KING RICHARD 111. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Gold were as good as twenty orators, 
 And will, no doubt, tempt him to anything. 
 K. Rich. Wliat is his name ? 
 
 Page. His name, my lord, is Tyrrel. 
 
 K. Rich. I partly know the man : Go, call him hi- 
 ther, boy. [Exit Page. 
 The deep-revolving witty Buckingham 
 No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels : 
 Hath he so long held out with me untir'd. 
 And stops he now for breath ? — well, be it so. — 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 How now, lord Stanley ? what 's the news ? 
 
 Stan. Know, my loving lord, 
 The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled 
 To Richmond, in the parts where he abides. 
 
 K. Rich. Come hither, Catesby : rumour it abroad 
 That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick ; 
 I will take order for her keeping close. 
 Inquire me out some mean, poor gentleman, 
 Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter. — 
 The boy is foolish, and I fear not him. — 
 Look, how thou dream'st ! — I say again, give out 
 That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die : 
 About it ; for it stands me much upon. 
 To stop all hopes whoBe growth may damage me. 
 
 \_Exit Catesby. 
 I must be married to my brother's daugliter. 
 Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass : 
 Murther her brothers, and then marry her ! 
 Uncertain way of gain ! But 1 am in 
 So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin. 
 Tear falling pity dwells not in this eye. 
 
 Re-enter Page, loith Tyrrel. 
 Is tliy name Tyrrel ? 
 
 Tyr. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient sid)ject. 
 
Scene II.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 407 
 
 K, Rich. Art thou, indeed ? 
 
 Tyr. Prove me, my gracious lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? 
 
 Tyr. Please you, but I had rather kill two enemies. 
 
 K. Rich. Why, then thou hast it ; two dee]) enemies, 
 Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, 
 Are they that I would have thee deal upon : 
 Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. 
 
 J^yr. Let me have open means to come to them. 
 And soon I '11 rid you from the fear of them. 
 
 K. Rich. Thou sing st sweet music. Hark, come 
 liither, Tyrrel : 
 Go, by this token : — Rise, and lend thine ear : 
 
 [ Whispers, 
 
 There is no more but so : — Say, it is done, 
 And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. 
 
 Tyr. I will despatch it straight. \^Exit. 
 
 Re-enter Buckingham. 
 
 Buck. My lord, I have consider'd in my mind 
 The late request that you did sound me in. 
 
 K. Rich. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Rich- 
 mond. 
 
 Buck. 1 hear the news, my lord. 
 K, Rich. Stanley, he is your wife's son : — -Well look 
 unto it. 
 
 Bicck. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, 
 For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd ; 
 The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables. 
 Which you have promised I shall possess. 
 
 K. Rich. Stanley, look to your wife ; if she convey 
 Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. 
 
 Buck. What says your highness to my just request 1 
 
 K. Rich. I do remember me, — Henry the sixth 
 Did prophesy that Richmond should be king. 
 When Richmond was a little peevish boy. 
 A king ! — perhaps 
 
409 
 
 KING RICHAllD nr. [Act IV. 
 
 Buck. My lord, 
 
 K. Rich. How chance the prophet could not at tliat 
 time 
 
 Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him ? 
 
 Buck. My lordj your promise for the earldom, — 
 
 K. Rich, Richmond ! — When last I was at Exeter, 
 The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, 
 And call'd it Rouge-mont : at which name I started, 
 Because a bard of Ireland told me once 
 I should not live long after I saw Richmond. 
 
 Buck. My lord, 
 
 K. Rich, Ay, what 's o'clock % 
 
 Buck. I am thus bold to put your grace in mind 
 Of what you promis'd me. 
 
 K. Rich. Well, but what 's o'clock ? 
 
 Buck. Upon the stroke of ten.- 
 
 K. Rich. Well, let it strike. 
 
 Buck. Why, let it strike? 
 
 K. Rich. Because that, like a Jack,^ thou keep'st the 
 stroke 
 
 Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. 
 I am not in the giving vein to-day. 
 
 Buck. Why, then resolve me whether you will, or no. 
 
 K. Rich. Thou troublest me ; I am not in the vein. 
 
 [Exeunt King Richard and Ti-ain, 
 
 Buck. And is it thus? repays he my deep service 
 With such contempt? made I him king for this? 
 O, let me think on Hastings ; and be gone 
 To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on. [Exit, 
 
 SCENE III.— The same. 
 Enter Tyrrel. 
 
 Tyr, The tyrannous and bloody act is done ; 
 The most arch deed of piteous massacre 
 
 ^ The " Jack of the Clock-house" was an automaton, which 
 struck the hour upon a bell. 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 KING lllCHARD HI. 
 
 4U0 
 
 That ever yet this land was guilty of. 
 
 Digliton and Forrest, wliom I did suborn 
 
 To do this piece of ruthless butchery, 
 
 Albeit they were tlesh'd villains, bloody dogs, 
 
 Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, 
 
 Wept like to children, in their death's sad story. 
 
 " O thus,'' quoth Dighton, lay the gentle babes,"— 
 
 " Thus, thus," quoth Forrest, " girdling one another 
 
 Within their alabaster innocent arms : 
 
 Their lips were four red roses on a stalk. 
 
 And, in their summer beauty, kiss'd each other. 
 
 A book of prayers on their pillow lay : 
 
 Which once," quoth Forrest, " almost changed my mind ; 
 
 But, O, the devil " — tliere the villain stopped ; 
 
 When Dighton thus told on, — we smothered 
 
 The most replenished sweet work of Nature, 
 
 That, from the prime creation, e'er shefram'd.*' — 
 
 Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse *, 
 
 They could not speak : and so I left them both. 
 
 To bear this tidings to the bloody king. 
 
 Enter King Richard. 
 And here he comes : — All health, my sovereign lord ! 
 
 K. Mich. Kind Tyrrel ! am I happy in thy news i 
 
 Tyr. If to have done the thing you gave in charge 
 Beget your happiness, be happy then. 
 For it is done. 
 
 K, Rich. But didst thou see them dead ? 
 
 Ty7\ I did, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. And buried, gentle Tyrrel ? 
 
 Tyr. The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them ; 
 But where, to say the truth, I do not know. 
 
 K. Rich. Come to me, Tyrrel, soon, at after supper, 
 When thou shalt tell the process of their death. 
 Meantime, but think how I may do thee good, 
 And be inheritor of thy desire. 
 Farewell till then. 
 
410 
 
 KING RICHARD 111. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Tyr. I humbly take my leave. \^xit, 
 
 K. Mich. The son of Clarence have I pent up close; 
 
 His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage ; 
 
 The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom ; 
 
 And Anne my wife hath bid this world good night. 
 
 Now, for I know the Bretagne Richmond aims 
 
 At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter. 
 
 And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown^ 
 
 To her go I, a jolly thriving wooer. 
 
 Enter Ratcliff. 
 
 Bat My lord! 
 
 K. Rich. Good or bad nev/s, that thou com'st in so 
 bluntly ? 
 
 Rat. Bad news, my lord : Morton is fled to Rich- 
 mond; 
 
 And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, 
 Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. 
 
 K. Mich. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near 
 Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. 
 Come, — I have learn'd that fearful commenting 
 Is leaden servitor to dull delay ; 
 Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary : 
 Then fiery expedition be my wing, 
 Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king ! 
 Go, muster men : my counsel is my shield ; 
 We must be brief when traitors brave the field. lExeimt 
 
 SCENE lY.— The same. Befare the Palace. 
 Enter Queen Margaret. 
 
 Q. Mar. So, now prosperity begins to mellow, 
 And drop into the rotten mouth of death. 
 Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, 
 To watch the waning of mine enemies. 
 A dire induction am I witness to. 
 And will to France ; hoping the consequence 
 
Scene VI.] 
 
 KING RICHARD UL 
 
 411 
 
 Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. 
 
 Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret ! who comes here ? 
 
 i^n^er Queen Elizabeth and the Duchess of Youk. 
 
 Q. 'Eliz. Ah, my poor princes ! ah, my tender babes] 
 My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets I 
 If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, 
 And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, 
 Hover about me with your airy wings, 
 And hear your mother's lamentation ! 
 
 Q. Mar. Hover about her ; say, that right for right 
 Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. 
 
 Diich. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, 
 That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute. 
 Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead ? 
 
 Q. Mar. Plantagenet doth quit Plantageriet, 
 Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. 
 
 Q. Eliz, Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle 
 lambs. 
 
 And throw them in the entrails of the wolf? 
 
 When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done ? 
 
 Q. Mar. When holy Harry died, and my sweet son. 
 
 DiLch. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living 
 ghost. 
 
 Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd. 
 Brief abstract and record of tedious days, 
 Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, 
 
 [Sitting doion. 
 Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a gra.ve. 
 As thou canst yield a melancholy seat ; 
 Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here I 
 Ah, who hath any cause to mourn but we ? 
 
 [Sitting down by her, 
 Q. Mar, If ancient sorrow be most reverent, 
 Gi^'e mine the benefit of seniory,^ 
 
 ^ &nior?/— seiiioritv. 
 
412 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Act IV. 
 
 And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. 
 
 If sorrow can admit society, \_Sitting doion with them. 
 
 [Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine : — ] 
 
 I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him ; 
 
 I had a husband, till a Richard IvilFd him : 
 
 Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill d him : 
 
 Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. 
 
 T>xich. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him ; 
 I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. 
 
 Q. Mar. Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard 
 kiird him. 
 
 From forth the kennel of thy womb hath cre})t 
 A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all lO deatli : 
 That dog, that liad his teeth before his eyes 
 To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood ; 
 That foul defacer of God's Handiwork, 
 That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls ; 
 That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, 
 Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves. 
 O upright, just, and true-disposing God, 
 How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur 
 Preys on the issue of his mother's body, 
 And makes her pew-fellow » with others' moan ! 
 
 Duch. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes 5 
 God witness with me, I have wept for thine. 
 
 Q. Mar. Bear with me ; I am hungry for revenge, 
 And now I cloy me with beholding it. 
 Thy Edward he is dead that kill'd my Edward ; 
 The other Edward dead, to quit my Edward ; 
 Young York he is but boot,^ because both they 
 Match not the high perfection of my loss. 
 Thy Clarence he is dead that stabb'd my Edward j 
 And the beholders of this frantic play, 
 The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey, 
 
 Pew-fellow — companion — occupiers of the same seat, 
 b Boot. We retain the phrase to loot, sometliing added ; into 
 the hargain, as we also still say. 
 
SCKXE IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD IIL 
 
 413 
 
 Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. 
 Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer ; 
 Only reserv'd tneir factor, to ^uy souls, 
 And send chem thither : But at hand, at hand, 
 Ensues nis piteous and unpitied end : 
 Earth gapes, hell burns. 5ends roar, saints pray, 
 To nave tiim suddenly convey'd from iience : 
 Cancel Iiis bond of life, dear God, I pray, 
 That I may live to say, the dog is dead ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. O, thou didst i^u'ophesy the time would come 
 That I should v/ish for thee lO help me curse 
 That oottled spider, that foul buncu-back'd toad. 
 
 Q. Mar. I caiFd thee then, vain Nourish of my fortune ; 
 I caird thee then, nooY shadow, painted queen ; 
 The p-esentation of but what I was. 
 The flattering index of a divefu'' pageant, 
 One heav'd a-high. to be huird down below : 
 A mother only mock'd with two fair babes ; 
 A dream of wnat thou wast ; a garish flag, 
 To be the aim of every dangerous shoe ; 
 A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble ; 
 A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 
 Where is thy husband now ? where be thy brothers ? 
 Where De thy two sons ? wherein dost thou joy ? 
 Who sues, and kneels, and says — God save the queen ? 
 Where oe the bending peers that flatter'd thee ? 
 Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee ? 
 Decline all this, anu see what now thou art. 
 For happy wife, a most distressed widow; 
 For joyl'ul mother, one that wails the name ; 
 For one being sued to, one that humbly sues ; 
 For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care ; 
 For she that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me ; 
 For she being fear'd of all, now fearing one ; 
 For she commanding all, obey'd of none. 
 Thus hath the course of justice whirl'd about, 
 And left thee but a very prey to time ; 
 
 VOL. VI. 2 F 
 
414 
 
 KING RICHARD HI. 
 
 [Act iV. 
 
 Having no more but tliouglit of wliat thou wast, 
 
 To torture thee the more, being what thou art. 
 
 Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not 
 
 Usurp tlie just proportion of my sorrow ? 
 
 Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke ; 
 
 From which even here I slip my wearied head, 
 
 And ]eave the burthen of it all on thee. 
 
 Farewell, York's wife, — and queen of sad mischance, — ■ 
 
 These English woes shall make me smile in France. 
 
 Q. Eliz. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while, 
 And teach me how to curse mine enemies. 
 
 Q. Mar. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the 
 
 ^^^'^ 
 
 Compare dead happiness with living woe ; 
 Think that thy babes were fairer than they were. 
 And he that slew them fouler than he is ; 
 Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse ; 
 Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My words are dull, O quicken them with 
 thine I 
 
 Q. Mar. Thy woes will make them sharp, and ])ierce 
 like mine. [^Exit Q. Mail 
 
 DucJi. Why should calamity be full of words'? 
 
 Q. Eliz. Windy attorneys to their client woes, 
 Airy succeeders of intestate joys, 
 Poor breathing orators of miseries ! 
 Let them have scope : though what they do Impart 
 Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. 
 
 Duch. If so, then be not tongue-tied : go with me, 
 And in the breath of bitter words let 's smother 
 My damned son, that thy two sweet sons smothered. 
 
 [ Trumjyet with in . 
 The trumpet sounds, — be copious in exclaims. 
 
 Enter King Richard, and his Train, marching. 
 
 K. Rich. Who intercepts me in my expedition ? 
 Duch* O, she that iniglit have intercepted tliee. 
 
Scene IV.] KING RICHARD III. 415 
 
 By strangling tliee in lier accursed womb, 
 From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou liast done. 
 Q. Eliz. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden 
 crown, 
 
 Wiere should be branded, if that right were right, 
 The slaughter of tlie prince that ow*d^ that crown, 
 And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers'? 
 Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children? 
 Diich. Thou toad, thou toad, where is tliy brother 
 Clarence? 
 And little Ned Plantagenet, his son ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, 
 Grey ? 
 
 Duch. Where is kind Hastings? 
 K. Rich. A flourish, trumpets ! — strike alarum^ 
 drums ! 
 
 Let not the Heavens hear these tell-tale women 
 Rail on the Lord's anointed : Strike, 1 say. 
 
 , Flourish. Alarums. 
 Either be patient, and entreat me fair. 
 Or with the clamorous report of war 
 Thus will I drown your exclamations. 
 Dxich. Art thou my son ? 
 
 K. Rich. Ay ; I thank God, my father, and yourself, 
 Duch. Then patiently hear my impatience. 
 K. Rich. INIadam, I have a touch of your condition, 
 That cannot brook the accent of reproof. 
 Duch. O, let me speak. 
 
 K. Rich. Do, then ; but I '11 not hear. 
 
 Duch. I will be mild and gentle in my words. 
 
 K. Rich. And brief, good mother ; for I am in haste. 
 
 Duch. Art thou so hasty ? I have stay'd for thee, 
 God knows, in torment and in agony. 
 
 K. Rich. And came I not at last to comfort you? 
 
 Duch. No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well, 
 Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. 
 ^ Oif'i— owned. 
 
 2 F 2 
 
416 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 (.Act IV. 
 
 A grievous burthen was thy birtli to me ; 
 Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy ; 
 Thy school-days fiightful, desperate, wild, and furious ; 
 Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous ; 
 Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody, 
 More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred : 
 What comfortable hour canst thou name, 
 That ever grac'd me ir. thy company ^ 
 
 K. Rick. 'Faith, none, but Humphrey Hower, that 
 caird your grace 
 To breakfast once, forth of my company. 
 If I be so disgracious in your eye. 
 Let me march on, and not offend you, madam. — 
 Strike up the drum. 
 
 Duch. I prithee, hear me speak. 
 
 K, Rich. You speak too bitterly. 
 
 Duch. Hear me a word, 
 
 For I shall never speak to thee again. 
 
 K. Rich. So. 
 
 Duch. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, 
 Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror : 
 Or I with grief and extreme age shaP perish, 
 And never more behold thy face again. 
 Therefore, lake with thee my most grievous curse ; 
 Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more 
 Than all the complete armour tliat thou wear'st ! 
 My prayers on the adverse party fight : 
 And there the little souls of Edward's children 
 Whisper the spirits of thine enemies, 
 And promise them success and victory. 
 Bloody thou art, b''oody will be thy end ; 
 Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend. \_Exit. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Tiiough far more cause, yet much less 
 spirit to curse 
 
 Abides in me ; I say amen to her. [Going. 
 K. Rich. Stay, madam, I must talk a word with you. 
 Q. Eliz. I have no more sons of the royal blood 
 
Scene IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 All 
 
 For thee to slaughter : for my daughters, Richard, 
 They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens ; 
 And therefore level not to hit their lives. 
 
 K. Rich. You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth, 
 Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. 
 
 Q. Eliz. And must she die for this? O, let her live, 
 And I '11 corrupt her manners, stain her beauty ; 
 Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed ; 
 Throw over her the veil of infamy : 
 So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter, 
 I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. 
 
 K. Rich. Wrong not her birth, she is a royal princess. 
 
 Q. Eliz. To save her life, I '11 say she is not so. 
 
 K. Rich. Her life is safest only in her birth. 
 
 Q. Eliz. And only in that safety died her brothers. 
 
 K. Rich. Lo, at their births good stars were opposite. 
 
 Q. Eliz. No, to their lives ill friends were contrary. 
 
 K. Rich. All unavoided is the doom of destiny . 
 
 Q. Eliz. True, when avoided grace makes destiny ; 
 My babes were destin'd to a fairer death. 
 If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. 
 
 K. Rich. You speak as if that I had slain my cousins. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Cousins, indeed ; and by their uncle cozen'd 
 Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. 
 Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts. 
 Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction : 
 i No doubt the murtherous knife was dull and blunt, 
 Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart. 
 To revel in the entrails of my lambs. 
 But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame, 
 My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys 
 Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes ; 
 And I, in such a desperate bay of death, 
 Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, 
 Rujsh all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. 
 
 K. Rich. Madam, so tlirive I in my enterprise. 
 And dangerous success of bloody wars, 
 
418 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 As 1 intend more good to you and yours, 
 Tljan ever you and yours by ine were liarm'd ! 
 
 Q. Eliz. What good is cover'd with the face of 
 heaven, 
 
 To be discovered, that can do me good ? 
 
 K. Rich. The advancement of your children, gentle 
 lady. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads ! 
 
 K. Rich. Unto the dignity and lieight of Ibrtune, 
 Tlie high imperial type of this earth's glory. 
 
 Q. Eliz, Flatter my sorrow with report of it ; 
 Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour, 
 Canst thou demise to any child of mine ? 
 
 K. Rich. Even all I have ; ay, and myself and all. 
 Will I withal endow a child of thine ; 
 So in the Lethe of thy angry soul 
 Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs 
 Which thou supposest I have done to thee. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Be brief, lest that tlie process of thy kindness 
 Last longer telling than thy kindness" date. 
 
 K. Rich. Then know, that, from my soul, I love thy 
 daughter. 
 
 Q. Eliz. My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. 
 K, Rich. What do you think ? 
 Q. Eliz. That thou dost love my daughter, from thy 
 soul : 
 
 So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers ; 
 And, from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it. 
 
 K. Rich. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning ; 
 I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter. 
 And do intend to make her queen of England. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her 
 king ? 
 
 K. Rich. Even he that makes her queen: Who else 
 
 should be 
 Q. Eliz. What, thou ? 
 
 K, Rich, Even so : How think you of itl 
 
ScJiNE IV.J 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 419 
 
 Q. Eliz. How canst thou woo lier? 
 K. Rich. That I would learn of you, 
 
 As one bting best acquainted with her liumour. 
 Q. Eliz. And wilt thou learn of me? 
 K, Rich. Madam, witli all my heart. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Send to her, by the man that slew her 
 brothers, 
 
 A pair of bleeding hearts ; thereon engrave 
 
 Edward, and York 5 then, haply, will she weep : 
 
 Therefore present to her, — as sometime Margaret 
 
 Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood, — 
 
 A handkerchief ; which, say to her, did drain 
 
 The pui-ple sap from her sweet brother's body, 
 
 And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. 
 
 If this inducement move her not to love. 
 
 Send her a letter of thy noble deeds ; 
 
 Tell her, thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, 
 
 Her uncle Rivers ; ay, and, for her salve, 
 
 Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. 
 
 K. Rich. You mock me, madam ; this is not tlie way 
 To win your daugliter. 
 
 Q. Eliz. There is no other way ; 
 
 Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, 
 And not be Richard that hath done all this. 
 
 K. Rich. Say, that I did all this for love of her ? 
 
 Q. Eliz. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose but 
 hate thee. 
 
 Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. 
 
 K. Rich. Look, what is done cannot be now amended ; 
 Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, 
 Which after-hours give leisure to repent. 
 If I did take the kingdom from your sons. 
 To make amends, I '11 give it to your daughter. 
 If I have kill'd the issue of yom- womb. 
 To quicken your increase, I will beget 
 Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter. 
 A grandam's name is little less in love 
 
4^0 KING RICHARD III. [Act IV. 
 
 Than is the doting title of a mother ; 
 
 They are as children but one step below, 
 
 Even of your mettle, of your very blood ; 
 
 Of all one pain, — save for a night of groans 
 
 Endur'd of her, for whom you bid like sorrow. 
 
 Your cliildren were vexation to your youth, 
 
 But mine shall be a comfort to your age. 
 
 The loss, you have, is but a son being king, 
 
 And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen. 
 
 J cannot make you what amends I would, 
 
 Therefore accept such kindness as I can. 
 
 Dorset, ^''our son, that, with a fearful soul. 
 
 Leads discontented steps in foreign soil. 
 
 This fair alliance quickly shall call home 
 
 To high promotions and great dignity : 
 
 The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wifa, 
 
 Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother ; 
 
 Again shall you be mother to a king. 
 
 And all the ruins of distressful times 
 
 Repaired with double riches of content. 
 
 What ! we have many goodly days to see : 
 
 The liquid drops of tears that you have shed 
 
 Shall come again, transformed to orient pearl ; 
 
 Advantaging their loan, with interest 
 
 Of ten-times double gain of happiness. 
 
 Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go ; 
 
 Make bold her bashful years with your experience 5 
 
 Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale ; 
 
 Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame 
 
 Of golden sov'reignty ; acquaint the princess 
 
 With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys i 
 
 And when this arm of mine hath chastised 
 
 The petty rebel, duU-brain'd Buckingham, 
 
 Bound with triumphant garlands will I come, 
 
 And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed ; 
 
 To whom I will retxiil my conquest won. 
 
 And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar, 
 
Scene IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 421 
 
 Q. Eliz. What were I best to say ? her father's brother 
 Would be her lord ? Or shall I say, her uncle ? 
 Or he that slew her brothers and her uncles ? 
 Under what title shall I woo for thee, 
 That God, the law, my honour, and her love, 
 Can make seem pleasing to her tender years ? 
 
 K. Rich. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Which she shall purchase with still lasting 
 war. 
 
 K. Rich. Tell her, the king, that may command, 
 entreats. 
 
 Q. Eliz. That at her hands which the king's King 
 forbids. 
 
 K. Rich. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. 
 Q. Eliz. To wail the title, as her mother doth. 
 K. Rich. Say, I will love her everlastingly. 
 Q. Eliz. But how long shall that title, ever, last ? 
 K. Rich. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. 
 Q. Eliz. But how long fairly shall her sweet life last ? 
 K, Rich, As long as Heaven, and nature, lengthens it. 
 Q. Eliz. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it. 
 K. Rich. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low. 
 Q. Eliz. But she, your subject, loathes such sov'- 
 reignty. 
 
 K. Rich. Be eloquent in my behalf to her. 
 Q. Eliz. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. 
 K. Rich. Then, plainly to her tell my loving tale. 
 Q. Eliz. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style. 
 K. Rich. Your reasons are too shallow and too quick. 
 Q. Eliz. O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead ; — 
 Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. 
 
 K. Rich. Harp not on that string, madam ; that is 
 past. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Harp on it still shall I, till heartstrings 
 break. 
 
 K. Rich. Now, by my George, my garter, and my 
 crown, — 
 
422 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act IV. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Pri)fan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurped. 
 K. Rich, I swear. 
 
 Q. Eliz, By nothmg : for this is no oath. 
 
 Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his lordly honour ; 
 Thy garter, bleinish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue ; 
 Thy crown, usurp'd, disgrac'd his kingly glory : 
 If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd. 
 Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. 
 
 K, Rich. Then, by myself, — 
 
 Q. Eliz. Thyself is self-misused, 
 
 K. Rich. Now, by the world, — 
 Q. Eliz. 'T is full of thy foul wrongs. 
 
 K. Rich. My father's death,— 
 
 Q. Eliz. Thy life hath it dishonoured. 
 
 K. Rich. Why then, by Heaven, — 
 
 Q. Eliz. Heaven's wrong is most of all. 
 
 If thou didst fear to break an oath with Him, 
 The unity the king my husband made 
 Thou hadst not broken, nor my brothers died. 
 If thou hadst fear'd to break an oatli by Him, 
 The imperial metal, circling now thy head, 
 Had grac'd the tender temples of my child; 
 And both the princes had been breathing here, 
 Which now, two tender bedfellows for dust, 
 Thy broken faith hath made the prey for worms. 
 What canst thou swear by now ? 
 
 K. Rich. The time to come. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Tliat thou hast wronged in the time o'er- 
 past ; 
 
 For I myself have many tears to wash 
 
 Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by tliee. 
 
 The children live whose fathers thou hast slaughter'd, 
 
 Ungovem'd youth, to wall it in their age ; 
 
 The parents live whose children thou hast butchered, 
 
 Old barren plants, to wail it with their age. 
 
 Swear not by time to come ; for that thou liast 
 
 Misused ere used, by times ill-used o'er-past. 
 
SCENK IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 423 
 
 K, Rich. As I intend to prosper, and repent, 
 So thrive I in my dangerous aiiairs 
 Of hostile arms ! myself myself confound ! 
 Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours ! 
 Day, yield me not thy light, nor night, thy rest ! 
 Be opposite all planets of good luck 
 To my proceeding ! if, with dear heart's love, 
 Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts, 
 I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter I 
 In her consists my happiness, and thine ; 
 Without her, follows to myself, and thee. 
 Herself, the land, and many a christian sou^ 
 Death, desolation, ruin, and decay : 
 It cannot be avoided but by this ; 
 It will not be avoided but by this. 
 Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so,) 
 Be the attorney of my love to her. 
 Plead what I will be, not what I have been ; 
 Not my deserts, but what I will deserve : 
 Urge the necessity and state of times. 
 And be not peevish found in great designs. 
 
 Q. EUz. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? 
 
 K. Rich, Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Shall I forget myself, to be myself I 
 
 K, Rich. Av, if yourself s remembrance wrong your- 
 self ' 
 
 Q. Eliz. Yet, thou didst kill my children. 
 
 K. Rich. But in your daughter's womb I bury them : ' 
 Where, in that nest of spicery, they will breed 
 Selves of themselves to your recomforture. 
 
 Q. Eliz. Shall I go win my daughter to thy will ? 
 
 K. Rich. And be a happy mother by the deed. 
 
 Q. Eliz. I go. — Write to me very shortly, 
 And you shall understand from me her mind. 
 
 K. Rich. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so fare- 
 well. [Kissing her. Exit Q. Ehiz. 
 Relenting fool, and shallow changing woman ! 
 How now ? what news ? 
 
424 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [AoT IV. 
 
 Filter Ratcliff ; Catesby folloiving. 
 
 Rat. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast 
 Rideth a puissant navy ; to our shores 
 Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, 
 Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back : 
 'T is thought that Richmond is their admiral ; 
 And there they hull, expecting but the aid 
 Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore. 
 
 K. Rich. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of 
 Norfolk :— . 
 Ratclilf, thyself, — or Catesby; where is he? 
 
 Cate. Here, my good lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Catesby, fly to the duke. 
 
 Cate. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. 
 K. Rich. Ratcliff, come hither : Post to Salisbury ; 
 When thou com'st thither, — Dull unmindful villain, 
 
 [Tb Catesby. 
 Why stay'st thou here, and go'st not to the duke ? 
 Cate. First, miglity liege, tell me your highness' 
 pleasure, 
 
 What from your grace I shall deliver to him. 
 
 K. Rich. O, true, good Catesby Bid him levy 
 straight 
 
 The greatest strength and power that be can make. 
 And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. 
 
 Cate. I go. \^Exit. 
 
 Rat. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salis- 
 bury? 
 
 K. Rich, Why, what wouldst thou do there, before I 
 go? 
 
 Rat. Your highness told me I should post before. 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 K. Rich. My mind is changed. — Stanley, what nev/s 
 with you?- 
 
 'Stan. None good, my liege, to please you with the 
 hearing ; 
 
 Nor none so bad but well may be reported. 
 
SOKNE IV.] 
 
 KING KICHxiRD III. 
 
 425 
 
 K. Rich. Heyday, a riddle ! neither good nor bad ! 
 What need'st ihou run so many miles about, 
 When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way ? 
 Once more, what news ? 
 
 ^tan, Richmond is on the seas. 
 
 K. Rich, There let him sinif , and be tiie seas on him ! 
 White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there? 
 
 Stan. I know not, xnighty sovereign, but by guess. 
 
 K. Rich, WeL, as you guess? 
 
 Soav. Stirr' i up by Dorset^ Buckingham, and Morton, 
 He makes for England, here to claim the crown. 
 
 K. Rich. Is the chair empty ? Is the sword un- 
 sway'd ? 
 
 Is he king dead ? the emj ire un-oossess'u ? 
 Woai. heir o? York is there alive but ,ve ? 
 And who is England's kint but great York's heir ? 
 Then, tell me, what makes ae upon the seas ? 
 
 Stan. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. 
 
 K. Rich. Unless for that be comes to je your liege, 
 You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. 
 Thou wilt revolt, and f y to him, I fear. 
 
 Stan. No, my good lord, therefore mistrust me not. 
 
 K. Rich. Where is th}'- power then, 'm oeat him back ? 
 Where be thy tenants ana thy followers ? 
 Are they not now upon the western shore, 
 Safe conducting the rebels from their ships ? 
 
 Stan. No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. 
 
 K. Rich. Cold friends to me : What do they in tlie 
 north, 
 
 When they should serve their sovereign in the west? 
 
 Stan. They have not been commanded, mighty king : 
 Pleasetii. your majesty to give me leave, 
 I '11 muster up my friends, and meet your grace. 
 Where, and what time, your majesty shall please. 
 
 K. Rich. Ay, thou wouldst be gone to join with 
 Richmond : 
 But I '11 not trust thee. 
 
428 KING RICHARD III. [Act IV. 
 
 Stan. Most mighty sovereign, 
 
 You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful ; 
 I never was, nor never will be, false. 
 
 K. Rich. Go then, and muster men. But leave be- 
 hind 
 
 Your son, George Stanley ; look your heart be firm, 
 Or else his head's assurance is but frail. 
 
 Stan. So deal with him as I prove true to you. 
 
 yExit Stanley, 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, 
 As I by friends am well advertised, 
 Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate 
 Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother. 
 With many more confederates, are in arms. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 2 Mess. In Kent, my liege, the Guilfords are in arms ; 
 And every hour more competitors * 
 
 Flock to tlie rebels, and their power grows strong. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 3 Mess. My lord, the army of great Buckingham — 
 K. Rich. Out on ye, owls ! nothing but songs of 
 
 death? \Iie strikes him. 
 
 There, take thou that, till tliou bring better news. 
 
 3 Mess. The news I have to tell your majesty 
 \s, — that, by sudden floods and fall of waters, 
 Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scatter'd ; 
 And he himself wander'd away alone. 
 No man knows whither. 
 
 K. Rich. I cry thee mercy : 
 
 There is my purse, to cure that blow of thine 
 Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd 
 Reward to him that brings the traitor in ? 
 
 ^ CompctHurs — associates. 
 
Scene V.j 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 3 Mess. Such proclamation hath been made, my 
 
 liege. 
 
 Enter another Messenger. 
 
 4 Mess. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquis Dorset. 
 'T is said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. 
 
 But this good comfort bring I to your highness, — 
 The Bretagne navy is dispers'd by tempest : 
 Kichmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat 
 Unto the shore, to ask tliose on the banks 
 If they were his assistants, yea, or no ; 
 Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingnam 
 Upon his party : he, mistrusting them, 
 Hois'd sail, and made his course again for Bretagne. 
 K. Rich. March on, march on, since we are up in 
 arms ; 
 
 If not to fight with foreign enemies, 
 
 Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. 
 
 Enter Catesby. 
 
 Cate. My liege, tlie duke of Buckingliam is takeu, 
 That is the best news. Tliat the earl of Richmond 
 Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, 
 Is colder news, but yet they must be told. 
 
 K. Rich. Away towards Salisbury ; while we reason 
 here 
 
 A royal battle might be won and lost : 
 
 Some one take order Buckingham be brought 
 
 To Salisbury ; — the rest march on with me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. — A Room in Lord Stanley's House. 
 Enter Stanley and Sir Christopher Urswick. 
 
 Stan. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me : — 
 That, in the sty of this most bloody boar, 
 My son George Stanley is frankVl up in hohl ; 
 If I revolt, olf goes young George's head ; 
 
4538 KING RICHAllD III. [\ci IV. 
 
 The fear of that holds off my present aid. 
 
 So, get thee gone ; commend me to thy lord. 
 
 Withal, say, that the queen iiatli heartily consented 
 
 He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. 
 
 But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now ? 
 
 Chris. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in Wales. 
 
 Stan. What men of name resort to him ? 
 
 Chris. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier ; 
 Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir William Stanley ; 
 Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt, 
 And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew ; 
 And many other of great name and worth : 
 And towards London do they bend their power, 
 If by the way they be not fought withal. 
 
 Stan. Well, hie thee to thy lord; I kiss his hand. 
 My letter will resolve him of my mind. 
 Farewell. | Exeunt. 
 
SCZNE 1. 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 429 
 
 ACT V. 
 
 SCENE I. — Salisbury. An open place. 
 
 Enter the Sheriff mul Guard, ^oith Buckingham, led 
 to execution, 
 
 Btich, Will not king Richard let me speak with him? 
 Sher. No, my good lord : therefore be patient. 
 Buck, Hastings, and Edward's children, Grey, and 
 Rivers, 
 
 Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, 
 Vaughan, and all tliat have miscarried 
 By underhand corrupted foul injustice ! 
 If that your moody discontented souls 
 Do through the clouds behold this present hour, 
 Even for revenge mock my destruction ! 
 This is All-Souls' day, fellow, is it not ? 
 She7\ It is, my lord. 
 
 Biick. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's 
 doomsday. 
 
 This is the day which, in king Edward's time, 
 I wish'd might fall on me, when I was found 
 False to his children, and his wife's allies : 
 This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall 
 By the false faith of him whom most I trusted : 
 This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul, 
 Is the determin'd respite of my wrongs. 
 That high All-seer which I dallied with 
 Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head. 
 And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. 
 Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men 
 To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms : 
 Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck, — 
 *'When he," quoth she, "shall split thy heart with 
 sorrow, 
 
 VOL VI. 2 Q 
 
430 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Ac-i V. 
 
 Remember Margaret was a prophetess.'' — 
 Come, lead me, officers, to the block of shame ; 
 Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. 
 
 [Exetmt Buckingham, ^c. 
 
 SCENE 11,— Plain near Tamworth. 
 
 Enter, loith drum and colours, Richmond, Oxford, 
 Sib James Blunt, Sir Walter Herbert, and 
 others, with Forces, marching, 
 
 liichm. Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, 
 Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny. 
 Thus far into the bowels of the land 
 Have we march'd on without impediment ; 
 And here receive we from our father Stanley 
 Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. 
 The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, 
 That spoird your summer fields and fruitful vines, 
 Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes Ins trough 
 In your embowell'd bosoms, — this foul swine 
 Lies now even in the centre of this isle, 
 Near to the town of Leicester, as we leain ; 
 From Tamworth thither is but one day's march. 
 In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends. 
 To reap the harvest of perpetual peace 
 By this one bloody trial of sharp war. 
 
 Oxf, Every man's conscience is a thousand men, 
 To fight against this bloody liomicide. 
 
 Herb. I doubt not but his friends will turn to w%. 
 
 Blunt. He hath no friends but what are friends for 
 fear; 
 
 Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. 
 
 Richm. All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, 
 march : 
 
 True hope is sv/ift, and flies with swallow's wings, 
 Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings, 
 
 \_Exeimt. 
 
SCESE lU.j 
 
 KING lUClIARI) III. 
 
 431 
 
 SCENE III,— Bosworth Field. 
 
 Enter King Richard and Forces; the Duke of 
 Norfolk, Earl of Surrey, and others, 
 
 K. Rich. Here pitch our tent, even here in Bosworth 
 fieid. 
 
 My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ? 
 
 Sicr. My heart is ten limes lighter than my looks. 
 K. Rich. My lord of Norfolk ! 
 
 Nor. Here, most gracious liege. 
 
 K. Rich. Norfolk, we must have knocks : Ha I must 
 we not ? 
 
 Nor. We must both give and take, mj loving lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Up with my tent: Here will I lie to-night; 
 
 [^Soldiers begin to set up the King's tent. 
 But where to-inorrow ? — Well, all s one for that. — 
 Who hath descried the number of the traitors ? 
 
 Nor. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. 
 
 K. Rich, Why, our battalia trebles that account : 
 Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, 
 Which they upon the adverse faction want. 
 Up with the tent. — Come, noble gentlemen. 
 Let us survey the vantage of the ground ; — 
 Call for some men of sound direction : 
 Let 's lack no discipline, make no delay ; 
 For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day. [Exeunt, 
 
 Enter, on the other side of the field, Richmond, Sir 
 William Brandon, Oxford, aiid other Lords- 
 Some of the Soldiers pitch Richmond's te7it, 
 
 Richm, The weary sun hath made a golden set. 
 And, by the bright track of his fiery car. 
 Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow. 
 Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard. 
 Give me some ink and paper in my tent ; — 
 I '11 draw the form and model of our battle. 
 Limit each leader to his several charge, 
 And part in just proportion our small power. 
 
 2 Q 2 
 
iZ2 KING RICHARD III. [Act V. 
 
 My lord of Oxford, you, sir William Brandon, 
 And you, sir Walter Herbert, stay with me : 
 The earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment 
 Good captain Blunt, bear my good night to him, 
 And by the second hour in the morning 
 Desire the earl to see me in my tent : 
 Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me ; 
 Where is lord Stanley quarter'd, do you know ? 
 
 Blwit. Unless I have mista'en his colours much, 
 (Which well I am assur'd I have not done,) 
 His regiment lies half a mile at least 
 South from the mighty power of the king. 
 
 Rickm. If without peril it be possible, 
 Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, 
 And give him from me this most needful note. 
 
 Blunt. Upon my life, my lord, I '11 undertake it ; 
 And so, God give you quiet rest to-night ! 
 
 Richm. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, 
 gentlemen. 
 Let us consult unon to-morrow's business; 
 In to my tent, the dew is rav/ and cold. 
 
 [They withdrmo into the tent. 
 
 Enter, to his tent^ King Richard, Norfolk, 
 Ratcliff, aiid Catesby. 
 
 K. Rich. What is 't o'clock ? 
 
 Gate. It 's supper-time, my lord ; 
 
 It 's nine o'clock. 
 
 K. Rich. I will not sup to-night. 
 
 Give me some ink and paper. 
 What, is my beaver easier than it was ? 
 And all my armour laid into my tent ? 
 
 Cate. It is, my liege ; and all things are in readiness. 
 
 K. Rich. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge ; 
 Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels. 
 
 ^ Keeps his regiment. The word regiment is several times 
 used iu this scene in the sense of a body of men, under the com- 
 mand (regiment) of a particular captain. 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 433 
 
 Nor. I go, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich, Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. 
 
 Nor. I warrant j^on, my lord. [Exit. 
 
 K. Rich. Ratclift'! 
 
 Rat My lord? 
 1 A''. Rich. Send out a pursuivant at arms 
 
 To Stanley's regiment : bid him bring his power 
 Before sunrising, lest his son George fall 
 Into the blind cave of eternal night. 
 Fill me a bowl of wine. — Give me a watch | To Cat. 
 Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow. — 
 Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy. 
 Ratcliff! 
 
 Rat. My lord? 
 
 K. Rich. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northum- 
 berland ? 
 
 Rat. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself, 
 Much about cock-shut^ time, from troop to troop. 
 Went through the army cheering up the soldiers. 
 
 it. Rich. So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of 
 wine : 
 
 I have not that alacrity of spirit, 
 Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have. 
 Set it down. — Is ink and paper ready ?• 
 Rat. It is, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Bid my guard watch ; leave me. 
 
 Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent, 
 Awd help to arm me. — Leave me, I say. 
 [K. Rich, retires into his tent. Exeunt Rat. and Gate. 
 
 ^ A watch. The verb ghc — and the subsequent expression 
 "bid my guard watch " — show that Ricliard is not askini,^ for a 
 sentinel, as some have supposed. The watch is Vixetvatch-Ught. 
 The night-candle was divided by marks to indicate how long it 
 had burned. 
 
 Cock-shut. We incline to think that coch-shta time is equi- 
 valent to cock-roost time— the hour at which the cock goes to 
 rest. As morning is coch-croiv, evening may 1)y a parallel 
 image be cock-shut. 
 
4a4 
 
 KING RICHARD IIJ. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Richmond's tent opens, and discovers him and his 
 Officers, ^c. 
 
 Enter Stanley. 
 
 Stan. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm ! 
 
 Richyn. All comfort that the dark night can allbrd 
 Be to thy person, noble father-in-law ! 
 Tell me how fares our noble mother ? 
 
 Stan. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother, 
 Who prays continually for Richmond's good : 
 So much for that. The silent hours steal ou. 
 And flaky darkness breaks within tlie east. 
 In brief, for so the season bids us be. 
 Prepare thy battle early in the morning ; 
 And put thy fortune to the arbitrement 
 Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war. 
 I, as I may, (that which I would I carinot,) 
 With best advantage will deceive the time. 
 And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms : 
 But on thy side I may not be too forward, 
 Lest, being seen, thy brother tender George 
 Be executed in his father's sight. 
 Farewell : The leisure and the fearful time 
 Cuts oft' the ceremonious vows of love^ 
 And ample interchange of sweet discourse, 
 Which so long siinder''d friends should dwell upon ; 
 God give us leisure for these rites of love ! 
 Once more, adieu : — Be valiant, and speed well ! 
 
 Richin. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment : 
 I '11 strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap ; 
 Lest leaden slumber peise me down ^ to-morrow, 
 When I should mount with wings of victory : 
 Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen. 
 
 [Exeimt Lords, S^c., with Stanley 
 O Thou ! whose captain I account myself, 
 Look on my forces with a gracious eye ; 
 put in their liands thy bruising irons of Avratli, 
 ^ Peise me down — weigh me down. 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 That they may crush clown with a heavy fall 
 
 The usurping helmets of our adversaries ! 
 
 Make us thy ministers of chastisement, 
 
 That we may praise thee in thy victory ! 
 
 To thee I do commeiid my watchful soul, 
 
 Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes ; 
 
 Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me still ! \_Slecps. 
 
 The Ghost 0/ Prince Edward, son to Henry the 
 Sixth, 7nses between the tioo tents. 
 
 Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow ' 
 
 [To King Richard. 
 Think, how thou stabb'dst me in my prime of youth 
 At Tewksbury : Despair therefore, and die ! — 
 
 Be cheerful, Richmond ; for the wronged souls 
 Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf : 
 King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. 
 
 The Ghost of King Henry the Sixth rises. 
 
 Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed body 
 
 [2b King Richard. 
 By thee was punched full of deadly holes : 
 Think on the Tower and me : Despair, and die ; 
 Harry the sixth bids thee despair, and die ! — ■ 
 
 Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror ! [_To Riciim, 
 Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, 
 Doth comfort thee in thy sleep : Live, and flourish ! 
 
 The Ghost of Clarence rises. 
 
 Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow ! 
 
 [To King Richard. 
 I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, 
 Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray \1 to death ! 
 To-morrow in the battle think on me, 
 And fall thy edgeless sword : Despair, and die ! — 
 
 Tliou offspring of the house of Lancaster, [ To Richm 
 The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee ; 
 Good angels guard tliy battle! Live, and (ionrish ! 
 
43d 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 The Ghosts of Rivers, Grey, and Vauqhan rise. 
 Riv. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, 
 
 [To K. Rich. 
 Rivers, that died at Pomfret ! Despair, and die ! 
 Grey. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair I 
 
 [To K. Rich, 
 
 Vaugh. Think upon Vaughan ; and, with guilty fear, 
 Let fall thy lance ! Despair, and die ! [To K. Rich. 
 
 All. Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's 
 bosom [Tb Richm. 
 
 Will conquer him ; — awake, and win the day 1 
 
 The Ghost of Hastings rises. 
 
 Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake, 
 
 [To K. Rich. 
 
 And in a bloody battle end thy days ! 
 
 Think on lord Hastings ; and despair, and die I — 
 
 Quiet, untroubled sou], awake, awake ! [To Richm. 
 Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake ! 
 
 The Ghosts of the tioo young Princes rise. 
 
 Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the 
 Tower. 
 
 Let us be laid within thy bosom, Richard, 
 
 And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death ! 
 
 Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die ! — 
 
 Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy ; 
 Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy ! 
 Live, and beget a happy race of kings ! 
 Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. 
 
 The Ghost of Queen Anne rises. 
 
 Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy 
 wife. 
 
 That never slept a quiet hour v/ith thee, 
 
 Now fills thy sleep with perturbations : 
 I To-morrow in the battle think on me, 
 I And fall tliy cdgeless sword : Despair, and die! — 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleey) ; 
 
 [ To RicnM. 
 
 Dream of success and happy victory ; 
 Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee» 
 
 The Ghost 0/ Buckingham rises. 
 
 Ghost. The first was I that help'd thee to the crown : 
 
 [To K. Rich. 
 
 The last was I that felt thy tyranny : 
 O, in the battle think on Buckingham, 
 And die in terror of tliy guiltiness ! 
 Dream on, dream on, of bloody deed's and death ! 
 Fainting, despair ; despairing, yield tliy breath ! 
 I died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid : 
 
 \_T0 RiCHM. 
 
 But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd : 
 God and good angels fight on Richmond's side ; 
 And Richard fall in height of all his pride. [The 
 Ghosts vanish. K. Rich, starts out of his dream. 
 K. Rich. Give me another horse, — bind up my 
 wounds, — 
 
 Have mercy, Jesu ! — Soft ; I did but dream. 
 
 0 coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me ! 
 The lights burn blue. — It is now dead midnight. 
 Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. 
 What, do I fear myself? there 's none else by : 
 Richard loves Richard ; that is, I am I. 
 
 Is there a murtherer here ? No ; — Yes ; I am : 
 
 Then fly,— What, from myself ? Great reason : Why ? 
 
 Lest I revenge. What? Myself upon myself? 
 
 Alack, I love myself. Wherefore ? for any good 
 
 That I myself have done unto myself? 
 
 O, no : alas, I rather hate myself. 
 
 For hateful deeds committed by myself. 
 
 1 am a villain : Yet I lie, I am not. 
 
 Fool, of thyself speak well : — Fool, do not flatter : 
 My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, 
 
438 KING RICHARD III. [Act V. 
 
 And every tongue brings in a several tale, 
 And every tale condemns me for a villain. 
 Perjury, perjury, in the higli'st degree, 
 Murther, stern murther, in the dir'st degree ; 
 All several sins, all used in each degree. 
 Throng to the bar, crying all, — Guilty ! guilty ! 
 I shall despair. — There is no creature loves me ; 
 And if I die, no soul shall pity me 
 Nay, wherefore should they ? since that I myself 
 Find in myself no pity to myself. 
 Methought, the souls of all that I had murlher'd 
 Came to my tent : and every one did threat 
 To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. 
 
 Enter Ratcliff. 
 
 Eat My lord! 
 
 K. Rich. Wiio 's there ? 
 
 Rat. Ratcliff, my lord ; 't is I. The early village cock 
 Hath twice done salutation to the morn ; 
 Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. 
 
 [_K. Rich. O, Ratclilf, I have dream'd a fearful 
 dream ! — 
 
 What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true? 
 Rat. No doubt, my lord.] 
 
 K. Rich. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear, — 
 
 Rat. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. 
 K. Rich. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night 
 Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, 
 Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, 
 Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. 
 It is not yet near day. Come, go with me ; 
 Under our tents I '11 play the eavesdropper, 
 To hear if any mean to shrink from me. 
 
 [Exeunt King Richard and Ratcliff. 
 
 Richmond xoakes. Enter Oxford and others. 
 Lords. Good morrow, Richmond. 
 
Scene III.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 Richm. 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentlemen, 
 That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. 
 
 Lords. How have you slept, my lord? 
 
 Richm, The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams, 
 That ever entered in a drowsy head, 
 Have I since your departure had, my lords. 
 Methought, their souls whose bodies Richard murtherM, 
 Came to my tent, and cried — On ! victory ! 
 I promise you, my heart is very jocund 
 In the remembrance of so fair a dream. 
 How far into the morning is it, lords ? 
 
 Lords. Upon the stroke of four. 
 
 Richm. Why, then 't is time to arm, and give direc- 
 tion. — \_lle advoMces to the trooj)s. 
 More than I have said, loving countrymen, 
 The leisure and enforcement of the time 
 Forbids to dwell upon ; Yet remember this, — 
 God, and our good cause, light upon our side ; 
 The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls, 
 Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces ; 
 Richard except, those whom we fight against 
 Had rather have us win, than him they follow. 
 For what is he they follow ? truly, gentlemen, 
 A bloody tyrant, and a homicide ; 
 One rais'd in l)lood, and one in blood establish'd ; 
 One that made means to come by what he hath. 
 And slaughtered those that were the means to help liim ; 
 A base foul stone, made precious by the foil 
 Of England's chair, Avhere he is falsely set ; 
 One tliat hath ever been God's enemy : 
 .Then if you fight against God's enemy, 
 God will, in justice, ward you as his soldiers 5 
 If you do sweat to put a tyrant down. 
 You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain ; 
 If you do fight against your country's foes. 
 Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire ; 
 If you do figlit in safeguard of your wives. 
 Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors ; 
 
410 
 
 KING RICHARD Hi. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 If you do free ^^our children from the sword, 
 
 Your children's children quit it in your age. 
 
 Then, in the name of God, and all these riglits, 
 
 Advance your standards, draw your willing swords : 
 
 For me, the ransom of my bold attempt 
 
 Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face ; 
 
 But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt 
 
 The least of you shall share his part thereof. 
 
 Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully ; 
 
 God and Saint George ! Richmond and victory ! \_Exc. 
 
 Re-enter King Richard, Ratcliff, Attendants, and 
 Forces. 
 
 K. Rich. What said Northumberland, as touching 
 
 Richmond? 
 Bat. That he was never trained up in arms. 
 K. Rich. He said the truth : And what said Surrey 
 
 then? 
 
 Rat. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose. 
 
 K. Rich. He was i' the right ; and so, indeed, it is. 
 
 [Clock strikes. 
 Tell the clock there. — Give me a calendar. — 
 Who saw the sun to-day ? 
 
 Rat, Not I, my lord. 
 
 K. Rich. Then he disdains to shine ; for, by the booK, 
 He should have brav'd the east an hour ago : 
 A black day will it be to somebody. — 
 Ratcliff,— 
 
 Rat, My lord? 
 
 K. Rich. The sun will iiotbe seen to-day ; 
 
 The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. 
 I Avould these dewy tears were from the ground. 
 Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me, 
 More than to Richmond? for the self-same heaven 
 That frowns on me looks sadly upon liim. 
 
 Enter Norfolk. 
 Ay;?'. Arm, arm, my lord : the ibc vannfs in ll.o (l(?ld. 
 
Scene III.] KING RICHARD III. 
 
 411 
 
 K. Rich. Come, bustle, bustle : — Caparison niy 
 horse ; — 
 
 Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his jwwcr : 
 I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, 
 And thus my battle shall be ordered. 
 My forward diall be drawn out all in length, 
 Consisting equally of horse and foot ; 
 Our archers sha1! be placed in the midst : 
 John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey, 
 Shall have the leading of the foot and horse. 
 They thus directed, Ave will follow 
 In the main battle ; whose puissance on either side 
 Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse. 
 This, and Saint George to boot ! — What think 'st thou, 
 Norfolk? 
 
 Nor. A good direction, warlike soverei^^n. 
 Tliis found I on my tent tliis morning. [Giving a scroll, 
 K. Rich. [^Reads.l Jocky of Norfolk, be not so 
 bola. 
 
 For Dickon th^ master is bought and sold.'' 
 A thing devised by the enemy. — 
 Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge : 
 Let not our babblmg dreams alfright our souls ; 
 For conscience is a word that cowards use, 
 Devis'd at lirst to keep the strong in awe : 
 Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. 
 March on, join bravely, let us to 't pell-mell ; 
 If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. 
 
 What shall I say more than I have inferred ? 
 Remember whom you are to cope withal 
 A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways, 
 A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants, 
 Whom their o*er-cloyed country vomits forth 
 To desperate ventures and assur'd destruction. 
 You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest ; 
 You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives, 
 They would restrain the one, distain the other. 
 And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow, 
 
442 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost V 
 
 A milksop, one that never in his life 
 
 Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow ? 
 
 Let 's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again ; 
 
 Lash hence these overweening rags of France, 
 
 These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives ; 
 
 Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, 
 
 For want of means poor rats, had liang'd themselves. 
 
 If we be conquered, let men conquer us. 
 
 And not these bastard Bretagnes, whom our fathers 
 
 Have in their own land beaten, bobb'cl, and Ihump'd, 
 
 And, on record, left them the lieirs of shame. 
 
 Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives? 
 
 Ravish our daughters ? — Hark, I hear their drum. 
 
 \ Drum afar off. 
 Fight, gentlemen of England ! fight boldly, yeomen ! 
 Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head ! 
 Spur your proud horses harf), and ride in blood ; 
 Amaze the welkin with your broken staves ! 
 
 Enter a Messenger. 
 What says lord Stanley ? will he bring his power? 
 Mess. My lord, he doth deny to come. 
 K. Rich. Off with his son George's head ! 
 Nor. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh ; 
 After the battle let George Stanley die. 
 
 K. Rich. A thousand hearts are great within my 
 bosom : 
 
 Advance our standards, set upon our foes • 
 
 Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, 
 
 Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons ! 
 
 Upon them ! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV.—Aoiother Part of the Field. 
 
 Alarum : Excursions. Enter Norvolk, and Forces , 
 to him Catesby. 
 Gate. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue I 
 The king enacts more wonders than a man, 
 
SCFICZ IV.] 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 443 
 
 Daring an opposite to every danger ; 
 His horse is slain, and all on foot he figlits, 
 Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death : 
 Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! 
 
 Alarum. Enter King Richard. 
 
 K. Rich. A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse 1 
 Cate. Withdraw, my lord, I '11 help you to a horse. 
 K. Rich. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast. 
 
 And I will stand the hazard of the die : 
 
 I think there be six Richmonds in the field ; 
 
 Five have I slain to-day, instead of him : 
 
 A horse ! a horse ! my kingdom for a horse ! [Exeunt. 
 
 Alarums. Eiiter King Richard and Richmond ; 
 they fight ; Richard is slain.^ 
 
 Retreat and flourish. Then enter Richmond, Stan- 
 ley hearing the croion, with divers other Lords, 
 and Forces, 
 
 Richm. God, and your arms, be prais'd, victorious 
 friends ; 
 
 The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. 
 
 Stan, Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit 
 thee ! 
 
 Lo, here, these long-usurped royalties, 
 From the dead temples of tliis bloody wretch 
 Have I pluck'd oft', to grace thy brows withal ; 
 Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. 
 
 Richm. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all i 
 But, tell me, is young George Stanley living ? 
 
 Stan. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town ; 
 Whither, if you please, we may withdraw us. 
 
 Richm. What men of name are slain on either side ? 
 
 ^ They fiqht; Richard is slain. This is the stage direction of 
 all the old copies, and it is important to preserve it, as showing 
 the course of the dramatic ac'ion. In the modern editions 
 we have, *' Enter K'ng Richard and Richmond; ani exeunt 
 fighting.'' 
 
444 
 
 KING RICHARD III. 
 
 [Act V. 
 
 Stan» John duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrors, 
 Sir Robert Brakenbury, and sir William Brandon. 
 
 Richm. Inter their bodies as becomes their births. 
 Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled 
 That in submission will return to us ; 
 And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, 
 We will unite the white rose and the red ; 
 Smile Heaven upon this fair conjunction. 
 That long hath frown'd upon their enmity ! 
 What traitor hears me, and says not amen? 
 England hatli long been mad. and scarr'd herself; 
 The brother blindl}'' shed the brother's blood, 
 The father rashly slaughtered liis own son. 
 The son, compelled, been butcher to the sire ; 
 All this divided York and Lancaster, 
 Divided, in their dire division. 
 O, now lei Richmond and Elizabeth, 
 The true succeeders of each royal house. 
 By God's fciir ordinance conjoin together I 
 And let their heirs (God, if they will be so j 
 Enrich the time to come witli smooth-fac'd peace, 
 With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days ! 
 Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, 
 That would reduce ^ these bloody days again, 
 And make poor England weep in streams of blood 1 
 Let them not live to taste this land's increase. 
 That would with treason wound this fair land's peace i 
 Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again ; 
 That she may long live here, God say — Amen ! 
 
 [^Exeunt 
 
 * Reduce— hxiiY^ back : the Latin form of the word. 
 
 END OF KING RICHARD III. 
 
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