RICHARD DUKE OF YORK - (3 HENRY VI)

RICHARD DUKE OF YORK (3 HENRY VI) THE play printed in the 1623 Folio as The Third Part of Henry the Sixth, with the Death of the Duke of York was described on the title-page of its first, unauthoritative publication in 1595 as The True Tragedy of Richard, Duke of York, and the Death of Good King Henry the Sixth, with the whole Contention between the two houses Lancaster and York. It is clearly a continuation of The First Part of the Contention, taking up the story where that play had ended, with the aspirations of Richard, Duke of York to the English throne, and was probably composed immediately afterwards. The final scenes of The First Part of the Contention briefly introduce two of York’s sons, Edward (the eldest) and Richard (already described as a ‘foul, indigested lump, | As crooked in … manners as [in] shape’). They, along with their brothers Edmund, Earl of Rutland, and George (later Duke of Clarence), figure more prominently in Richard Duke of York. The first scenes show York apparently fulfilling his ambition, as Henry VI weakly cedes his rights to the throne after his death; but Queen Margaret leads an army against York, and, when he is captured, personally taunts him with news of the murder of his youngest son, stabs York to death, and commands that his head be ‘set on York gates’. (This powerful scene includes the line ‘O tiger’s heart wrapped in a woman’s hide’, paraphrased by Robert Greene before September 1592, which establishes the upward limit of the play’s date.) Though Richard of York dies early in the action, the remainder of the play centres on his sons’ efforts (aided by Warwick’s politic schemings) to avenge his death and to establish the dominance of Yorkists over Lancastrians. The balance of power shifts frequently, and the brothers’ alliance crumbles, but finally Queen Margaret, with her French allies, is defeated and captured, and Richard of York’s surviving sons avenge their father’s death by killing her son, Edward, before her eyes. Richard of Gloucester starts to clear his way to the throne by murdering ‘Good King Henry’ in the Tower, and the play ends with the new King Edward IV exulting in his ‘country’s peace and brothers’ loves’ while Richard makes clear to the audience that Edward’s self-confidence is ill-founded. Though the play is loud and strife-ridden with war, power politics, and personal ambition, a concern with humane values emerges in the subtle and touching continuing portrayal of the quietist Henry VI, a saintly fool who meditates on the superiority of humble contentment to regal misery in an emblematic scene (2.5) that epitomizes the tragedy of civil strife. Richard Duke of York, like The First Part of the Contention, draws extensively on English chronicle history. Historically, the period of the action covers about sixteen years (1455 to 1471), but events are telescoped and rearranged; for instance, the opening scenes move rapidly from the Battle of St Albans (1445) to York’s death (1460); the future Richard III was only three years old, and living abroad, at the time of this opening battle in which he takes an active part; and Richard’s murder of Henry owes more to legend than to fact. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY

Of the King’s Party KING HENRY VI QUEEN MARGARET PRINCE EDWARD, their son Duke of S0MERSET Duke of EXETER Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND Earl of WESTMORLAND Lord CLIFFORD Lord Stafford SOMERVILLE Henry, young Earl of Richmond A SOLDIER who has killed his father A HUNTSMAN who guards King Edward

The Divided House of Neville Earl of WARWICK, first of York’s party, later of Lancaster’s Marquis of MONTAGUE, his brother, of York’s party Earl of OXFORD, their brother-in-law, of Lancaster’s party Lord HASTINGS, their brother-in-law, of York’s party

Of the Duke of York’s Party Richard Plantagenet, Duke of YORK EDWARD, Earl of March, his son, later Duke of York and KING EDWARD IV LADY GRAY, a widow, later Edward’s wife and queen Earl RIVERS, her brother GEORGE, Edward’s brother, later Duke OF CLARENCE RICHARD, Edward’s brother, later Duke OF GLOUCESTER Earl of RUTLAND, Edward’s brother Rutland’s TUTOR, a chaplain SIR JOHN Mortimer, York’s uncle Sir Hugh Mortimer, his brother Duke of NORFOLK Sir William Stanley Earl of Pembroke Sir John MONTGOMERY A NOBLEMAN Two GAMEKEEPERS Three WATCHMEN, who guard King Edward’s tent LIEUTENANT of the Tower

The French KING LOUIS LADY BONA, his sister-in-law Lord Bourbon, the French High Admiral

Others A SOLDIER who has killed his son Mayor of Coventry MAYOR of York Aldermen of York Soldiers, messengers, and attendants

The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York and the Good King Henry the Sixth

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A chair of state. Alarum. Enter Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, his two sons Edward, Earl of March, and Crookback Richard, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis of Montague, and the Earl of Warwick, with drummers and soldiers. They all wear white roses in their hats
WARWICK	I wonder how the King escaped our hands?
YORK	While we pursued the horsemen of the north, He slyly stole away and left his men; Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheered up the drooping army; and himself, Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast, Charged our main battle’s front, and, breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
EDWARD	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. He shows a bloody sword
(didascalia)	MONTAGUE to York
EDWARD	And, brother, here’s the Earl of Wiltshire’s blood, He shows a bloody sword Whom I encountered as the battles joined.
RICHARD	(to Somerset’s head, which he shows) Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.
YORK	Richard hath best deserved of all my sons. (To the head) But is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset?
NORFOLK	Such hap have all the line of John of Gaunt.
RICHARD	Thus do I hope to shake King Henry’s head.
(didascalia)	He holds aloft the head, then throws it down
WARWICK	And so do I, 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 (pointing to the chair of state), 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.
NORFOLK	We’ll all assist you—he that flies shall die.
YORK	Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords And soidiers—stay, and lodge by me this night. They go up upon the state
WARWICK	And when the King comes, offer him no violence Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.
(didascalia)	The soldiers withdraw
YORK	The Queen this day here holds her Parliament, But little thinks we shall be of her council; By words or blows here let us win our right.
RICHARD	Armed as we are, let’s stay within this house.
WARWICK	‘The Bloody Parliament’ shall this be called, Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king, And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice Hath made us bywords to our enemies.
YORK	Then leave me not, my lords. Be resolute— I mean to take possession of my right.
WARWICK	Neither the King nor he that loves him best— The proudest he that holds up Lancaster— Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells. I’ll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares. Resolve thee, Richard—claim the English crown.
(didascalia)	York sits in the chair.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Henry, Lord Clifford, the Earls
WARWICK	of Northumberland and Westmorland, the Duke of
(didascalia)	Exeter, and the rest. They all wear red roses in
(didascalia)	their hats
KING HENRY	My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits— Even in the chair of state! Belike he means, Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer, To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father— And thine, Lord Clifford—and you both have vowed revenge On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.
NORTHUMBERLAND	If I be not, heavens be revenged on me.
CLIFFORD	The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.
WESTMORLAND	What, shall we suffer this? Let’s pluck him down. My heart for anger burns—I cannot brook it.
KING HENRY	Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmorland.
CLIFFORD	Patience is for poltroons, such as he (indicating York). He durst not sit there had your father lived. My gracious lord, here in the Parliament Let us assail the family of York.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Well hast thou spoken, cousin, be it so.
KING HENRY	Ah, know you not the city favours them, And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?
EXETER	But when the Duke is slain, they’ll quickly fly.
KING HENRY	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. (To York) 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.
EXETER	For shame, come down—he made thee Duke of York.
YORK	It was mine inheritance, as the earldom was.
EXETER	Thy father was a traitor to the crown.
WARWICK	Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown In following this usurping Henry.
CLIFFORD	Whom should he follow but his natural king?
WARWICK	True, Clifford, and that’s Richard Duke of York.
KING HENRY	(to York) And shall I stand and thou sit in my throne?
YORK	It must and shall be so—content thyself.
WARWICK	(to King Henry) Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be king.
WESTMORLAND	He is both king and Duke of Lancaster— And that, the Lord of Westmorland shall maintain.
WARWICK	And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget That we are those which chased you from the field, And slew your fathers, and, with colours spread, Marched through the city to the palace gates.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief, And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
WESTMORLAND	(to York) Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I’ll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my father’s veins.
CLIFFORD	(to Warwick) Urge it no more, lest that, instead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger As shall revenge his death before I stir.
(didascalia)	WARWICK to York
CLIFFORD	Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats.
(didascalia)	YORK to King Henry
CLIFFORD	Will you we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.
KING HENRY	What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. I am the son of Henry the Fifth, Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop And seized upon their towns and provinces.
WARWICK	Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.
KING HENRY	The Lord Protector lost it, and not I. When I was crowned, I was but nine months old.
RICHARD	You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose. (To York) Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head.
EDWARD	(to York) Sweet father, do so—set it on your head.
MONTAGUE	(to York) Good brother, as thou lov‘st and honour’st arms, Let’s fight it out and not stand cavilling thus.
(didascalia)	Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly.
YORK	Sons, peace!
(didascalia)	NORTHUMBERLAND
YORK	Peace, thou—and give King Henry leave to speak.
KING HENRY	Ah, York, why seekest thou to depose me? Are we not both Plantagenets by birth, And from two brothers lineally descent? Suppose by right and equity thou be king— 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.
WARWICK	Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king.
KING HENRY	Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.
YORK	’Twas by rebellion against his king.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY aside
YORK	I know not what to say—my title’s weak. (To York) Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?
YORK	What then?
KING HENRY	An if he may, then am I lawful king— For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth, Whose heir my father was, and I am his.
YORK	He rose against him, being his sovereign, And made him to resign his crown perforce.
WARWICK	Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrained— Think you ’twere prejudicial to his crown?
EXETER	No, for he could not so resign his crown But that the next heir should succeed and reign.
KING HENRY	Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?
EXETER	His is the right, and therefore pardon me.
YORK	Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?
(didascalia)	EXETER to King Henry
YORK	My conscience tells me he is lawful king.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY aside
YORK	All will revolt from me and turn to him.
NORTHUMBERLAND	(to York) Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay’st, Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.
WARWICK	Deposed he shall be, in despite of all.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Thou art deceived—’tis not thy southern power Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, Can set the Duke up in despite of me.
CLIFFORD	King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence. May that ground gape and swallow me alive Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father.
KING HENRY	O, Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!
YORK	Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown. What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
WARWICK	Do right unto this princely Duke of York, Or I will fill the house with armed men And over the chair of state, where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood. He stamps with his foot and the soldiers show themselves
KING HENRY	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.
KING HENRY	I am content. Richard Plantagenet, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.
CLIFFORD	What wrong is this unto the prince your son?
WARWICK	What good is this to England and himself?
WESTMORLAND	Base, fearful, and despairing Henry.
CLIFFORD	How hast thou injured both thyself and us?
WESTMORLAND	I cannot stay to hear these articles.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Nor I.
CLIFFORD	Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news.
WESTMORLAND	(to King Henry) Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.
(didascalia)	Exit with his soldiers
NORTHUMBERLAND	(to King Henry) Be thou a prey unto the house of York, And die in bands for this unmanly deed.
(didascalia)	Exit with his soldiers
CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, Or live in peace, abandoned and despised.
(didascalia)	Exit with his soldiers
WARWICK	(to King Henry) Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not.
EXETER	(to King Henry) They seek revenge and therefore will not yield.
KING HENRY	Ah, Exeter.
WARWICK	Why should you sigh, my lord?
KING HENRY	Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. But be it as it may. (To York) I here entail The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever, Conditionally, that here thou take thine oath To cease this civil war, and whilst I live To honour me as thy king and sovereign, And nor by treason nor hostility To seek to put me down and reign thyself.
YORK	This oath I willingly take and will perform.
WARWICK	Long live King Henry. (To York) Plantagenet, embrace him.
(didascalia)	York descends. Henry and York embrace
KING HENRY	(to York) And long live thou, and these thy forward sons.
YORK	Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.
EXETER	Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes. Sennet. Here York’s train comes down from the state
YORK	(to King Henry)
(didascalia)	Farewell, my gracious lord, I’ll to my castle. Exeunt York, Edward, and Richard, with soldiers
WARWICK	And I’ll keep London with my soldiers.
(didascalia)	Exit With soldiers
NORFOLK	And I to Norfolk with my followers.
(didascalia)	Exit With soldiers
MONTAGUE	And I unto the sea from whence I came.
(didascalia)	Exit with soldiers
(didascalia)	And I with grief and sorrow to the court. King Henry and Exeter turn to leave.
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret and Prince Edward
EXETER	Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her anger. I’ll steal away.
KING HENRY	Exeter, so will I.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, go not from me—I will follow thee.
KING HENRY	Be patient, gentle Queen, and I will stay.
QUEEN MARGARET	Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man, would I had died a maid And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father. Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I did for him once, Or nourished him as I did with my blood, Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there Rather than have made that savage Duke thine heir And disinherited thine only son.
PRINCE EDWARD	Father, you cannot disinherit me. If you be king, why should not I succeed?
KING HENRY	Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son— The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.
QUEEN MARGARET	Enforced thee? Art thou king, and wilt be forced? I shame to hear thee speak! Ah, timorous wretch, Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me, And giv’n unto the house of York such head As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. To entail him and his heirs unto the crown— What is it, but to make thy sepulchre And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor and the Lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The Duke is made Protector of the Realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds The trembling lamb environèd with wolves. Had I been there, which am a seely woman, The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes Before I would have granted to that act. But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honour. And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, Until that act of Parliament be repealed Whereby my son is disinherited. The northern 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 the utter ruin of the house of York. Thus do I leave thee. (To Prince Edward) Come, son, let’s away. Our army is ready—come, we’ll after them.
KING HENRY	Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET	Thou hast spoke too much already.
(didascalia)	To Prince Edward Get thee gone.
KING HENRY	Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, to be murdered by his enemies.
PRINCE EDWARD	(to King Henry) When I return with victory from the field, I’ll see your grace. Till then, I’ll follow her.
QUEEN MARGARET	Come, son, away—we may not linger thus.
(didascalia)	Exit with Prince Edward
KING HENRY	Poor Queen, how love to me and to her son Hath made her break out into terms of rage. Revenged may she be on that hateful Duke, Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will coast 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. I’ll write unto them and entreat them fair. Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
EXETER	And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard, Edward Earl of March, and the Marquis of Montague
RICHARD	Brother, though I be youngest give me leave.
EDWARD	No, I can better play the orator.
MONTAGUE	But I have reasons strong and forcible.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York
YORK	Why, how now, sons and brother—at a strife? What is your quarrel? How began it first?
EDWARD	No quarrel, but a slight contention.
YORK	About what?
RICHARD	About that which concerns your grace and us— The crown of England, father, which is yours.
YORK	Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead.
RICHARD	Your right depends not on his life or death.
EDWARD	Now you are heir—therefore enjoy it now. By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end.
YORK	I took an oath that he should quietly reign.
EDWARD	But for a kingdom any oath may be broken. I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
RICHARD	(to York) No—God forbid your grace should be forsworn.
YORK	I shall be if I claim by open war.
RICHARD	I’ll prove the contrary, if you’ll hear me speak.
YORK	Thou canst not, son—it is impossible.
RICHARD	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 ’twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore to arms—and, father, do but think How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
(didascalia)	Within whose circuit is Elysium
RICHARD	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 luke-warm blood of Henry’s heart.
YORK	Richard, enough! I will be king or die. (To Montague) Brother, thou shalt to London presently And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk And tell him privily of our intent. You, Edward, shall to Edmund Brook, Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise. In them I trust, for they are soldiers Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. While you are thus employed, what resteth more But that I seek occasion how to rise, And yet the King not privy to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
YORK	But stay, what news? Why com’st thou in such post?
MESSENGER	The Queen, with all the northern earls and lords, Intend here to besiege you in your castle. She is hard by with twenty thousand men, And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
YORK	Ay, with my sword. What—think’st thou that we fear them? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; My brother Montague shall post to London. Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left protectors of the King, With powerful policy strengthen themselves, And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
MONTAGUE	Brother, I go—I’ll win them, fear it not. And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Mortimer and his brother Sir Hugh
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 the field.
YORK	What, with five thousand men?
RICHARD	Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman’s general—what should we fear? A march sounds afar off
EDWARD	I hear their drums. Let’s set our men in order, And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
(didascalia)	YORK to Sir John and Sir Hugh
EDWARD	Five men to twenty—though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncles, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one— Why should I not now have the like success? Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums, and then enter the young Earl of Rutland and his Tutor, a chaplain
RUTLAND	Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands?
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Clifford with soldiers
RUTLAND	Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes.
CLIFFORD	(to the Tutor) Chaplain, away—thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Whose father slew my father—he shall die.
TUTOR	And I, my lord, will bear him company.
CLIFFORD	Soldiers, away with him.
TUTOR	Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
(didascalia)	Rutland falls to the ground
CLIFFORD	How now—is he dead already? Or is it fear that makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them.
(didascalia)	RUTLAND reviving
CLIFFORD	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 Clifford, hear me speak before I die. I am too mean a subject for thy wrath. Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
CLIFFORD	In vain thou speak’st, poor boy. My father’s blood Hath stopped the passage where thy words should enter.
RUTLAND	Then let my father’s blood open it again. He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
CLIFFORD	Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me. No—if I digged up thy forefathers’ graves, And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of 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—
RUTLAND	O, let me pray before I take my death.
(didascalia)	Kneeling To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me.
CLIFFORD	Such pity as my rapier’s point affords.
RUTLAND	I never did thee harm—why wilt thou slay me?
CLIFFORD	Thy father hath.
RUTLAND	But ’twas ere I was born. Thou hast one son—for his sake pity me, Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, He be as miserably slain as I. Ah, let me live in prison all my days, And when I give occasion of offence, Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
CLIFFORD	No cause? Thy father slew my father, therefore die. He stabs him
RUTLAND	Dii faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae. He dies
CLIFFORD	Plantagenet—I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son’s blood cleaving to my blade Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood, Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both.
(didascalia)	Exit with Rutland’s body and soldiers

Atto 1, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter Richard Duke of York YORK
(didascalia)	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 bechancèd them. But this I know—they have demeaned themselves Like men born to renown by life or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me, And thrice cried, ‘Courage, father, fight it out!’ And full as oft came Edward to my side, With purple falchion painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encountered him. And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried, ‘Charge and give no foot of ground!’ And cried ‘A crown or else a glorious tomb! A sceptre or an earthly sepulchre!’ With this, we charged again—but out, alas— We bodged again, as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide And spend her strength with over-matching waves. A short alarum within Ah, hark—the fatal followers do pursue, And I am faint and cannot fly their fury; And were I strong, I would not shun their fury. The sands are numbered that makes up my life. Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of
(didascalia)	Northumberland, and the young Prince Edward, with soldiers Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland— I dare your quenchless fury to more rage! I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
CLIFFORD	Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, With downright payment, showed unto my father. Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide prick.
YORK	My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all, And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate’er you can afflict me with. Why come you not? What—multitudes, and fear?
CLIFFORD	So cowards fight when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the 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 o’errun my former time, And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this.
CLIFFORD	I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckle with thee blows twice two for one.
(didascalia)	He draws his sword
QUEEN MARGARET	Hold, valiant Clifford: for a thousand causes I would prolong a while the traitor’s life. Wrath makes him deaf—speak thou, Northumberland.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Hold, Clifford—do not honour him so much To prick thy finger though to wound his heart. What valour were it when a cur doth grin For one to thrust his hand between his teeth When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is war’s prize to take all vantages, And ten to one is no impeach of valour.
(didascalia)	They fight and take York
CLIFFORD	Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
NORTHUMBERLAND	So doth the cony struggle in the net.
YORK	So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty, So true men yield, with robbers so o’ermatched.
NORTHUMBERLAND	(to the Queen) What would your grace have done unto him now?
QUEEN MARGARET	Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him stand upon this molehill here, That wrought at mountains with outstretched arms Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. (To York) What—was it you that would be England’s king? Was’t you that revelled in our Parliament, And made a preachment of your high descent? Where are your mess of sons to back you now? The wanton Edward and the lusty George? And where’s that valiant crookback prodigy, Dickie, your boy, that with his grumbling voice Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or with the rest where is your darling Rutland? Look, York, I stained this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapier’s point Made issue from the bosom of thy boy. And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly I should lament thy miserable state. I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. What—hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death? 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. (To her men) A crown for York, and, lords, bow low to him. Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on. She puts a paper crown on York’s 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 crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath? As I bethink me, you should not be king Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. And will you pale your head in Henry’s glory, And rob his temples of the diadem Now, in his life, against your holy oath? O ’tis a fault too, too, unpardonable. Off with the crown,
(didascalia)	She knocks it from his head
QUEEN MARGARET	and with the crown his head, And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.
CLIFFORD	That is my office for my father’s sake.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, stay—let’s hear the orisons he makes.
YORK	She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves 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 visor-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would essay, proud Queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou cam’st, of whom derived, Were shame enough to shame thee—wert thou not shameless. Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem— Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud Queen, Unless the adage must be verified That beggars mounted run their horse to death. ’Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud— But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small; ‘Tis virtue that doth make them most admired— The contrary doth make thee wondered at; ’Tis government that makes them seem divine— The want thereof makes thee abominable. Thou art as opposite to every good As the antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion. O tiger’s heart wrapped 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 flexible— Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Bidd‘st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish. Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will. For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland’s obsequies, And every drop cries vengeance for his death ’Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.
NORTHUMBERLAND	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 touched, would not have stained with blood— But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O, ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless Queen, a hapless father’s tears. This cloth thou dipped‘st in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin and go boast of this, And if thou tell’st the heavy story right, Upon my soul the hearers will shed tears, Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears And say, ‘Alas, it was a piteous deed’. There, take the crown—and with the crown, my curse: And in thy need such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand. Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world. My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, I should not, for my life, but weep with him, To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.
QUEEN MARGARET	What—weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.
CLIFFORD	Here’s for my oath, here’s for my father’s death. He stabs York
QUEEN MARGARET	And here’s to right our gentle-hearted King. She stabs York
YORK	Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God— My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
(didascalia)	He dies
QUEEN MARGARET	Off with his head and set it on York gates, So York may overlook the town of York.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt with York’s body

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A march. Enter Edward Earl of March and Richard, with a drummer and soldiers
EDWARD	I wonder how our princely father scaped, Or whether he be scaped 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 scaped, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape. How fares my brother? Why is he so sad?
RICHARD	I cannot joy until I be resolved Where-our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about, And watched him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a lion in a herd of neat; Or as a bear encompassed round with dogs, Who having pinched a few and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof and bark at him. So fared our father with his enemies; So fled his enemies my warlike father. Methinks ’tis prize enough to be his son.
(didascalia)	Three suns appear in the air
RICHARD	See how the morning opes her golden gates And takes her farewell of the glorious sun. How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimmed like a younker prancing to his love!
EDWARD	Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?
RICHARD	Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun; Not separated with the racking clouds, But severed in a pale clear-shining sky.
(didascalia)	The three suns begin to join
RICHARD	See, see—they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vowed some league inviolable. Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. In this the heaven figures some event.
EDWARD	’Tis 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 meeds, Should notwithstanding join our lights together And over-shine the earth as this the world. Whate’er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Upon my target three fair-shining suns.
RICHARD	Nay, bear three daughters—by your leave I speak it— You love the breeder better than the male.
(didascalia)	Enter one blowing
RICHARD	But what art thou whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
MESSENGER	Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on Whenas the noble Duke of York was slain— Your princely father and my loving lord.
EDWARD	O, speak no more, for I have heard too much.
RICHARD	Say how he died, for I will hear it all.
MESSENGER	Environèd he was with many foes, And stood against them as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have entered Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hews down and fells the hardest-timbered oak. By many hands your father was subdued, But only slaughtered by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen, Who crowned the gracious Duke in high despite, Laughed in his face, and when with grief he wept, The ruthless Queen gave him to dry his cheeks A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain; And after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e’er I viewed.
EDWARD	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 vanquished 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.
RICHARD	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 burden, For selfsame wind that I should speak withal Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, And burns 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’ll venge thy death Or die renowned by attempting it.
EDWARD	His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee, His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
RICHARD	Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird, Show thy descent by gazing ‘gainst the sun: For ‘chair and dukedom’, ‘throne and kingdom’ say— Either that is thine or else thou wert not his.
(didascalia)	March. Enter the Earl of Warwick and the Marquis of Montague with drummers, an ensign, and soldiers
WARWICK	How now, fair lords? What fare? What news abroad?
RICHARD	Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and at each word’s deliverance Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain.
EDWARD	O Warwick, Warwick! That Plantagenet, Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption, Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
WARWICK	Ten days ago I drowned these news in tears. And now, to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befall’n. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depart. I then in London, keeper of the King, Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends, And, very well appointed as I thought, Marched toward Saint Albans to intercept the Queen, Bearing the King in my behalf along— For by my 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 Saint Albans met, Our battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought; But whether ‘twas the coldness of the King, Who looked full gently on his warlike queen, That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen, Or whether ’twas report of her success, Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigour— Who thunders to his captains 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 an idle thresher with a flail, Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. I cheered 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.
EDWARD	Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England?
WARWICK	Some six miles off the Duke is with his soldiers; And for your brother—he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
RICHARD	‘Twas odd belike when valiant Warwick fled. Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne’er till now his scandal of retire.
WARWICK	Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear— For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head And wring the aweful sceptre from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
RICHARD	I know it well, Lord Warwick—blame me not. ‘Tis love I bear thy glories make 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, Numb’ring 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.
WARWICK	Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out, And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting Queen, With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting King like wax. (To Edward) 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, And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry ‘Charge upon. our foes— But never once again turn back and fly.
RICHARD	Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak. Ne‘er may he live to see a sunshine day That cries ‘retire if Warwick bid him stay.
EDWARD	Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean, And when thou fail’st—as God forbid the hour— Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend I
WARWICK	No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York; The next degree is England’s royal throne— For King of England shalt thou be 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.
RICHARD	Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, I come to pierce it or to give thee mine.
EDWARD	Then strike up drums—God and Saint George for us!
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
WARWICK	How now? What news?
MESSENGER	The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me The Queen is coming with a puissant host, And craves your company for speedy counsel.
WARWICK	Why then it sorts. Brave warriors, let’s away.
(didascalia)	March. Exeunt
(didascalia)	2.2 York’s head is thrust out, above Flourish. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of Northumberland, and young Prince Edward, with a drummer and trumpeters
QUEEN MARGARET	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?
KING HENRY	Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck. To see this sight, it irks my very soul. Withhold revenge, dear God—’tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
CLIFFORD	My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting? Not 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 thy crown, Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows. He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue like a loving sire; Thou, being a king, blest 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 climbed unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young’s defence? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault, And long hereafter say unto his child ‘What my great-grandfather and grandsire got My careless father fondly gave away’? 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.
KING HENRY	Full well hath Clifford played the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me—didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind, And would my father had left me no more. For all the rest is held at such a rate As brings a thousandfold more care to keep Than in possession any jot of pleasure. Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head is here.
QUEEN MARGARET	My lord, cheer up your spirits—our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promised knighthood to our forward son. Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down. Prince Edward kneels
KING HENRY	Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight— And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right.
PRINCE EDWARD	(rising) My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I’ll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death.
CLIFFORD	Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Royal commanders, be in readiness— For with a band of thirty thousand men Comes Warwick backing of the Duke of York; And in the towns, as they do march along, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him. Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) I would your highness would depart the field— The Queen hath best success when you are absent.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to King Henry) Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.
KING HENRY	Why, that’s my fortune too—therefore I’ll stay.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Be it with resolution then to fight.
PRINCE EDWARD	(to King Henry) My royal father, cheer these noble lords And hearten those that fight in your defence. Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry ‘Saint George!’ March. Enter Edward Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, Richard, George, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis of Montague, and soldiers
EDWARD	Now, perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head— Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
QUEEN MARGARET	Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
EDWARD	I am his king, and he should bow his knee. I was adopted heir by his consent.
GEORGE	(to Queen Margaret) Since when his oath is broke—for, as I hear, You that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caused him by new act of Parliament To blot our brother out, and put his own son in.
CLIFFORD	And reason too— Who should succeed the father but the son?
RICHARD	Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!
CLIFFORD	Ay, crookback, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
RICHARD	’Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not?
CLIFFORD	Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
RICHARD	For God’s sake, lords, give signal to the fight.
WARWICK	What sayst thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?
QUEEN MARGARET	Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick, dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands.
WARWICK	Then ‘twas my turn to fly—and now ‘tis thine.
CLIFFORD	You said so much before, and yet you fled.
WARWICK	’Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
NORTHUMBERLAND	No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.
RICHARD	Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoll’n heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
CLIFFORD	I slew thy father—call’st thou him a child?
RICHARD	Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland. But ere sun set I’ll make thee curse the deed.
KING HENRY	Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET	Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.
KING HENRY	I prithee give no limits to my tongue— I am a king, and privileged to speak.
CLIFFORD	My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cured by words—therefore be still.
RICHARD	Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword. By him that made us all, I am resolved That Clifford’s manhood lies upon his tongue.
EDWARD	Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts today That ne’er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.
WARWICK	(to King Henry) If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; For York in justice puts his armour on.
PRINCE EDWARD	If that be right which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but everything is right.
RICHARD	Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands— For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother’s tongue.
QUEEN MARGARET	But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam, But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, Marked by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads or lizards’ dreadful stings.
RICHARD	Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king— As if a channel should be called the sea— Sham’st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?
EDWARD	A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns To make this shameless callet know herself. Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne’er was Agamemnon’s brother wronged By that false woman, as this king by thee. His father revelled in the heart of France, And tamed the King, and made the Dauphin stoop; And had he matched according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day. But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day, Even then that sunshine brewed a shower for him That washed his father’s fortunes forth of France, And heaped sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broached this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept, And we, in pity of the gentle King, Had slipped our claim until another age.
GEORGE	(to Queen Margaret) But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root. And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, We’ll never leave till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.
EDWARD	(to Queen Margaret) And in this resolution I defy thee, Not willing any longer conference Since thou deniest the gentle King to speak.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets—let our bloody colours wave!
EDWARD	And either victory, or else a grave!
QUEEN MARGARET	Stay, Edward.
EDWARD	No, wrangling woman, we’ll no longer stay— These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
(didascalia)	Flourish. March. Exeunt Edward and his men at one door and Queen Margaret and her men at another door

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter the Earl of Warwick
WARWICK	Forespent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe; For strokes received, and many blows repaid, Have robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while.
(didascalia)	Enter Edward, the Duke of York, running
EDWARD	Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death! For this world frowns, and Edward’s sun is clouded.
WARWICK	How now, my lord, what hap? What hope of good?
(didascalia)	Enter George, running
GEORGE	Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us. What counsel give you? Whither shall we fly?
EDWARD	Bootless is flight—they follow us with wings, And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
(didascalia)	Enter Richard, running
RICHARD	Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broached 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 stained their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.
WARWICK	Then let the earth be drunken with our blood. I’ll kill my horse, because I will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; And look upon, as if the tragedy Were played in jest by counterfeiting actors? (Kneeling) Here, on my knee, I vow to God above I’ll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
EDWARD	(kneeling) O, Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chain my soul to thine. And, ere my knee rise from the earth’s cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, Beseeching Thee, if with Thy will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope And give sweet passage to my sinful soul.
(didascalia)	They rise
EDWARD	Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where’er it be, in heaven or in earth.
ICHARD	Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, Let me embrace thee in my weary arms. I, that did never weep, now melt with woe That winter should cut off our springtime so.
WARWICK	Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell.
GEORGE	Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games. This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of life and victory. Forslow no longer—make we hence amain. Exeunt
(didascalia)	2.4 Alarums. Excursions. Enter Richard at one door and Lord Clifford at the other
RICHARD	Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone. Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge, Wert thou environed with a brazen wall.
CLIFFORD	Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone. This is the hand that stabbed thy father York, And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland, And here’s the heart that triumphs in their death And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother To execute the like upon thyself— And so, have at thee! They fight. The Earl of Warwick comes and rescues Richard. Lord Clifford flies
RICHARD	Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase— For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Henry
KING HENRY	This battle fares like to the morning’s war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way like a mighty sea Forced by the tide to combat with the wind, Now sways it that way like the selfsame sea Forced 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! 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: How many makes the hour full complete, How many hours brings 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 myself, So many days my ewes have been with young, So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean, So many years ere I shall shear the fleece. So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Passed 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 seely sheep Than doth a rich embroidered canopy To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery? O yes, it doth—a thousandfold 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 waits on him.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter at one door a Soldier with a dead man in his arms. King Henry stands apart
SOLDIER	Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of crowns; And I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me.
(didascalia)	He removes the dead man’s helmet
SOLDIER	Who’s this? O God! It is my father’s face Whom in this conflict I, unwares, have killed. 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, pressed 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. My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks, And no more words till they have flowed their fill. He weeps
KING HENRY	O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. Weep, wretched man, I’ll aid thee tear for tear; And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears, and break, o’ercharged with grief.
(didascalia)	Enter at another door another Soldier with a dead man in his arms
SECOND SOLDIER	Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold— For I have bought it with an hundred blows.
(didascalia)	He removes the dead man’s helmet
SECOND SOLDIER	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! (Weeping) See, see, what showers arise, Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, Upon thy wounds, that kills 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! O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!
KING HENRY	Woe above woe! Grief more than common grief! O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses; The one his purple blood right well resembles, The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth. Wither one rose, and let the other flourish— If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
FIRST SOLDIER	How will my mother for a father’s death Take on with me, and ne’er be satisfied!
SECOND SOLDIER	How will my wife for slaughter of my son Shed seas of tears, and ne’er be satisfied!
KING HENRY	How will the country for these woeful chances Misthink the King, and not be satisfied!
FIRST SOLDIER	Was ever son so rued a father’s death?
SECOND SOLDIER	Was ever father so bemoaned his son?
KING HENRY	Was ever king so grieved for subjects’ woe? Much is your sorrow, mine ten times so much.
FIRST SOLDIER	(to his father’s body) I’ll bear thee hence where I may weep my fill.
(didascalia)	Exit at one door with the body of his father
SECOND SOLDIER	(to his son’s body) 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, E’en for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I’ll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will— For I have murdered where I should not kill.
(didascalia)	Exit at another door with the body of his son
KING HENRY	Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
(didascalia)	Alarums. Excursions. Enter Prince Edward
PRINCE EDWARD	Fly, father, fly—for all your friends are fled, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull! Away—for death doth hold us in pursuit!
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret
QUEEN MARGARET	Mount you, my lord—towards Berwick post amain. Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight, With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands, Are at our backs—and therefore hence amain.
(didascalia)	Enter Exeter
EXETER	Away—for vengeance comes along with them! Nay—stay not to expostulate—make speed— Or else come after. I’ll away before.
KING HENRY	Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter. Not that I fear to stay, but love to go Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A loud alarum. Enter Lord Clifford, wounded with an arrow in his neck
CLIFFORD	Here burns my candle out—ay, here it dies, Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow More than my body’s parting with my soul! My love and fear glued many friends to thee— And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts, Impairing Henry, strength’ning misproud York. The common people swarm like summer flies, And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry’s enemies? O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorched the earth! And, Henry, hadst thou swayed as kings should do, Or as thy father and his father did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies; I and ten thousand in this luckless realm Had left no mourning widows for our death; And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds, but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight; The foe is merciless and will not pity, For at their hands I have deserved no pity. The air hath got into my deadly wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. Come York and Richard, Warwick and the rest— I stabbed your fathers’ bosoms; split my breast.
(didascalia)	He faints.
(didascalia)	Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward Duke of York,
CLIFFORD	his brothers George and Richard, the Earl of
(didascalia)	Warwick, the Marquis of Montague, and soldiers
EDWARD	Now breathe we, lords—good fortune bids us pause, And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. Some troops pursue the bloody-minded Queen, That led calm Henry, though he were a king, As doth a sail filled with a fretting gust Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
WARWICK	No—‘tis impossible he should escape; For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard marked him for the grave. And whereso’er he is, he’s surely dead. Clifford groans
(didascalia)	EDWARD
WARWICK	Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?
(didascalia)	RICHARD
WARWICK	A deadly groan, like life and death’s departing.
(didascalia)	EDWARD to Richard
WARWICK	See who it is.
(didascalia)	Richard goes to Clifford
WARWICK	And now the battle’s ended, If friend or foe, let him be gently used.
RICHARD	Revoke that doom of mercy, for ‘tis Clifford; Who not contented that he lopped the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murd’ring knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring— I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
WARWICK	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 answerèd.
EDWARD	Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours.
(didascalia)	Clifford is dragged forward
EDWARD	Now death shall stop his dismal threat’ning sound And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
WARWICK	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.
RICHARD	O, would he did—and so perhaps he doth. ’Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts Which in the time of death he gave our father.
GEORGE	If so thou think’st, vex him with eager words.
RICHARD	Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.
EDWARD	Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
WARWICK	Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
GEORGE	While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
RICHARD	Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
EDWARD	Thou pitied’st Rutland—I will pity thee.
GEORGE	Where’s Captain Margaret to fence you now?
WARWICK	They mock thee, Clifford—swear as thou wast wont.
RICHARD	What, not an oath? Nay, then, the world 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 but two hours’ life That I, in all despite, might rail at him, This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain whose unstanchèd thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
WARWICK	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 scattered 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’ll cross the sea To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
EDWARD	Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be. For in 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 Gloucester, And George, of Clarence; Warwick, as ourself, Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.
RICHARD	Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester— For Gloucester’s dukedom is too ominous.
WARWICK	Tut, that’s a foolish observation— Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London To see these honours in possession.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. York’s head is removed

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Gamekeepers, with crossbows in their hands
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	Under this thick-grown brake we’ll 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.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	I’ll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	That cannot be—the noise of thy crossbow 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’ll tell thee what befell me on a day In this self place where now we mean to stand.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	Here comes a man—let’s stay till he be past. They stand apart. Enter King Henry, disguised, carrying a prayer-book
KING HENRY	From Scotland am I stolen, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No, Harry, Harry—’tis no land of thine. Thy place is filled, thy sceptre wrung from thee, Thy balm washed off wherewith thou 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?
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	(to the Second Gamekeeper) Ay, here’s a deer whose skin’s a keeper’s fee: This is the quondam king—let’s seize upon him.
KING HENRY	Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, For wise men say it is the wisest course.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	(to the First Gamekeeper) Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	(to the Second Gamekeeper) Forbear awhile—we’ll hear a little more.
KING HENRY	My queen and son are gone to France for aid, And, as I hear, 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 Louis 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 batt‘ry in his breast, Her tears will pierce into a marble heart, The tiger will be mild whiles 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 deposed, He smiles and says his Edward is installed; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more, Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion wins the King from her With promise of his sister and what else To strengthen and support King Edward’s place. O, Margaret, thus ’twill be; and thou, poor soul, Art then forsaken, as thou went’st forlorn.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	(coming orward) Say, what art thou that talk’st of kings and queens?
KING HENRY	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?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	Ay, but thou talk’st as if thou wert a king.
KING HENRY	Why, so I am, in mind—and that’s enough.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	But if thou be a king, where is thy crown?
KING HENRY	My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen. My crown is called content— A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	Well, if you be a king crowned 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 deposed, And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance Will apprehend you as his enemy.
KING HENRY	But did you never swear and break an oath?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	No—never such an oath, nor will not now.
KING HENRY	Where did you dwell when I was King of England?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	Here in this country, where we now remain.
KING HENRY	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 ?
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	No, for we were subjects but while you were king.
KING HENRY	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’ll obey.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	We are true subjects to the King, King Edward.
KING HENRY	So would you be again to Henry, If he were seated as King Edward is.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	We charge you, in God’s name and in the King’s, To go with us unto the officers.
KING HENRY	In God’s name, lead; your king’s name be obeyed; And what God will, that let your king perform; And what he will I humbly yield unto. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, George Duke of Clarence, and the Lady Gray
KING EDWARD	Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Albans field This lady’s husband, Sir Richard Gray, was slain, His lands then seized 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.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Your highness shall do well to grant her suit— It were dishonour to deny it her.
KING EDWARD	It were no less; but yet I’ll make a pause.
RICHARD OF	GLOUCESTER, (aside to George) Yea, is it so? I see the lady hath a thing to grant Before the King will grant her humble suit.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind!
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) Silence.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) Widow, we will consider of your suit; And come some other time to know our mind.
LADY GRAY	Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay. May it please your highness to resolve me now, And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me.
RICHARD OF	GLOUCESTER, (aside to George) Ay, widow ? Then I’ll warrant you all your lands An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. Fight closer, or, good faith, you’ll catch a blow.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) I fear her not unless she chance to fall.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) God forbid that! For he’ll take vantages.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) How many children hast thou, widow ? Tell me.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) I think he means to beg a child of her.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) Nay, whip me then—he’ll rather give her two.
LADY GRAY	(to King Edward) Three, my most gracious lord.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) You shall have four, an you’ll be ruled by him.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) ’Twere pity they should lose their father’s lands.
LADY GRAY	Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it them.
KING EDWARD	(to Richard and George) Lords, give us leave—I’ll try this widow’s wit.
(didascalia)	RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER, aside to George
KING EDWARD	Ay, good leave have you; for you will have leave, Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch. Richard and George stand apart
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
LADY GRAY	Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
KING EDWARD	And would you not do much to do them good?
LADY GRAY	To do them good I would sustain some harm.
KING EDWARD	Then get your husband’s lands, to do them good.
LADY GRAY	Therefore I came unto your majesty.
KING EDWARD	I’ll tell you how these lands are to be got.
LADY GRAY	So shall you bind me to your highness’ service.
KING EDWARD	What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?
LADY GRAY	What you command, that rests in me to do.
KING EDWARD	But you will take exceptions to my boon.
LADY GRAY	No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
KING EDWARD	Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
LADY GRAY	Why, then, I will do what your grace commands.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) He plies her hard, and much rain wears the marble.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	As red as fire! Nay, then her wax must melt.
LADY GRAY	(to King Edward) Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task?
KING EDWARD	An easy task—’tis but to love a king.
LADY GRAY	That’s soon performed, because I am a subject.
KING EDWARD	Why, then, thy husband’s lands I freely give thee. 55
LADY GRAY	(curtsies) I take my leave, with many thousand thanks.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) The match is made—she seals it with a curtsy.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) But stay thee—’tis the fruits of love I mean.
LADY GRAY	The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
KING EDWARD	Ay, but I fear me in another sense. What love think’st thou I sue so much to get?
LADY GRAY	My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers— That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
KING EDWARD	No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.
LADY GRAY	Why, then, you mean not as I thought you did.
KING EDWARD	But now you partly may perceive my mind.
LADY GRAY	My mind will never grant what I perceive Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.
KING EDWARD	To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
LADY GRAY	To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. 70
KING EDWARD	Why, then, thou shalt not have thy husband’s lands.
LADY GRAY	Why, then, mine honesty shall be my dower; For by that loss I will not purchase them.
KING EDWARD	Therein thou wrong’st thy children mightily.
LADY GRAY	Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. But, mighty lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness of my suit. Please you dismiss me either with ay or no.
KING EDWARD	Ay, if thou wilt say ‘ay’ to my request; No, if thou dost say ‘no’ to my demand.
LADY GRAY	Then, no, my lord—my suit is at an end.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) The widow likes him not—she knits her brows.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.
KING EDWARD	(aside) Her looks doth argue her replete with modesty; Her words doth show 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. (To Lady Gray) Say that King Edward take thee for his queen?
LADY GRAY	’Tis better said than done, my gracious lord. I am a subject fit to jest withal, But far unfit to be a sovereign.
KING EDWARD	Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee I speak no more than what my soul intends, And that is to enjoy thee for my love.
LADY GRAY	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.
KING EDWARD	You cavil, widow-I did mean my queen.
LADY GRAY	’Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father.
KING EDWARD	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.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	When he was made a shriver, ’twas for shift.
KING EDWARD	(to Richard and George) Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. Richard and George come forward
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.
KING EDWARD	You’d think it strange if I should marry her.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	To who, my lord ?
KING EDWARD	Why, Clarence, to myself.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	That would be ten days’ wonder at the least.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	That’s a day longer than a wonder lasts.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	By so much is the wonder in extremes.
KING EDWARD	Well, jest on, brothers—I can tell you both Her suit is granted for her husband’s lands.
(didascalia)	Enter a Nobleman
NOBLEMAN	My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken And brought as prisoner to your palace gate.
KING EDWARD	See that he be conveyed unto the Tower— (To Richard and George) And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To question of his apprehension.
(didascalia)	(To Lady Gray) Widow, go you along. To Richard and
(didascalia)	George Lords, use her honourably.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Richard
RICHARD OF GLOUCEST’ER	Ay, Edward will use women honourably. Would he were wasted, marrow, 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 soul’s desire and me— The lustful Edward’s title burièd— Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlooked-for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms ere I can place myself. A cold premeditation for my purpose. 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, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying he’ll lade it dry to have his way— So do I wish the crown being so far off, And so I chide the means that keeps me from it, And so I say I’ll 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 then for Richard— What other pleasure can the world afford? I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap, And deck my body in gay ornaments, And ’witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. O, miserable thought! And more unlikely Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns. Why, love forswore me in my mother’s womb, And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature with 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 unlicked bear whelp That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be beloved? O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! 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, I’ll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, And whiles I live, t’account this world but hell, Until my misshaped trunk that bears this head Be round impaled with a glorious crown. And yet I know not how to get the crown, For many lives stand between me and home. And I—like one lost in a thorny wood, That rends 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 murder whiles I smile, And cry ‘Content!’ to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. I’ll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I’ll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I’ll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. I can add colours to the chameleon, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? Tut, were it farther off, I’ll pluck it down. Exit
(didascalia)	3.3 Two chairs of state. Flourish. Enter King Louis of France, his sister the Lady Bona, Lord Bourbon his admiral, Prince Edward, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Louis goes up upon the state, sits, and riseth up again
KING LOUIS	Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, Sit down with us. It ill befits thy state And birth that thou shouldst stand while Louis doth sit.
QUEEN MARGARET	No, mighty King of France, now Margaret Must strike her sail and learn a while to serve Where kings command. I was, I must confess, Great Albion’s queen in former golden days, 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 state conform myself.
KING LOUIS	Why, say, fair Queen, whence springs this deep despair ?
QUEEN MARGARET	From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares.
KING LOUIS	Whate’er it be, be thou still like thyself, And sit thee by our side. Seats her by him Yield not thy neck To fortune’s yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief. It shall be eased if France can yield relief.
QUEEN MARGARET	Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts, And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. Now, therefore, be it known to noble Louis That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is of a king become a banished man, And forced 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. An 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 seized, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.
KING LOUIS	Renowned Queen, with patience calm the storm, While we bethink a means to break it off.
QUEEN MARGARET	The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.
KING LOUIS	The more I stay, the more I’ll succour thee.
QUEEN MARGARET	O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick
QUEEN MARGARET	And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.
KING LOUIS	What’s he approacheth boldly to our presence?
QUEEN MARGARET	Our Earl of Warwick, Edward’s greatest friend.
KING LOUIS	Welcome, brave Warwick. What brings thee to France ? He descends. She ariseth
QUEEN MARGARET	(aside) Ay, now begins a second storm to rise, For this is he that moves both wind and tide.
WARWICK	(to King Louis) 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	(aside) If that go forward, Henry’s hope is done.
WARWICK	(to Lady Bona) And, gracious madam, 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 ent‘ring at his heedful ears, Hath placed thy beauty’s image and thy virtue.
QUEEN MARGARET	King Louis 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 Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ? To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice— That Henry liveth still; but were he dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry’s son. Look, therefore, Louis, that by this league and marriage Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour, For though usurpers sway the rule a while, Yet heav’ns are just and time suppresseth wrongs.
WARWICK	Injurious Margaret.
PRINCE EDWARD	And why not ‘Queen’?
WARWICK	Because thy father Henry did usurp, And thou no more art prince than she is queen.
OXFORD	Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France. From these our Henry lineally descends.
WARWICK	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.
OXFORD	Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, Whom thou obeyedest thirty and six years, And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
WARWICK	Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame—leave Henry, and call Edward king.
OXFORD	Call him my king by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, Was done to death ? And more than so, my father, Even in the downfall of his mellowed years, When nature brought him to the door of death? No, Warwick, no—while life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
WARWICK	And I the house of York.
KING LOUIS	Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside While I use further conference with Warwick.
(didascalia)	Queen Margaret comes down from the state and, with Prince Edward and Oxford, stands apart
QUEEN MARGARET	Heavens grant that Warwick’s words bewitch him not.
KING LOUIS	Now, Warwick, tell me even upon thy conscience, Is Edward your true king? For I were loath To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
WARWICK	Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.
KING LOUIS	But is he gracious in the people’s eye?
WARWICK	The more that Henry was unfortunate.
KING LOUIS	Then further, all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth the measure of his love Unto our sister Bona.
WARWICK	Such it seems As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say and swear That this his love was an eternal plant, Whereof the root was fixed in virtue’s ground, The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty’s sun, Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.
KING LOUIS	(to Lady Boa) Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.
LADY BONA	Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine. (To Warwick) Yet I confess that often ere this day, When I have heard your king’s desert recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgement to desire.
KING LOUIS	(to Warwick) Then, Warwick, thus—our sister shall be Edward’s. And now, forthwith, shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised. (To Queen Margaret) Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness That Bona shall be wife to the English king.
(didascalia)	Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford come forward
PRINCE EDWARD	To Edward, but not to the English king.
QUEEN MARGARET	Deceitful Warwick—it was thy device By this alliance to make void my suit! Before thy coming Louis was Henry’s friend.
KING LOUIS	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 ’tis but reason that I be released From giving aid which late I promised. Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand That your estate requires and mine can yield.
WARWICK	(to Queen Margaret) Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease, Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain you, And better ’twere you troubled him than France.
QUEEN MARGARET	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 Louis behold Thy sly conveyance and thy lord’s false love, Post blowing a horn within For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
KING LOUIS	Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.
(didascalia)	Enter the Post
POST	(to Warwick) My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, Sent from your brother Marquis Montague; (To Louis) These from our King unto your majesty; (To Queen Margaret) And, madam, these for you, from whom I know not. They all read their letters
OXFORD	(to Prince Edward) I like it well that our fair Queen and mistress Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
PRINCE EDWARD	Nay, mark how Louis stamps as he were nettled. I hope all’s for the best.
KING LOUIS	Warwick, what are thy news ? And yours, fair Queen?
QUEEN MARGARET	Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.
WARWICK	Mine, full of sorrow and heart’s discontent.
KING LOUIS	What! Has your king married the Lady Gray? And now to soothe your forgery and his, Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? Is this th’alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?
QUEEN MARGARET	I told your majesty as much before— This proveth Edward’s love and Warwick’s honesty.
WARWICK	King Louis, I here protest in sight of heaven 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 untimely to his death? Did I let pass th’abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right? And am I guerdoned at the last with shame? Shame on himself, for my desert is honour. And to repair my honour, lost for him, I here renounce him and return to Henry. (To Queen Margaret) 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	Warwick, these words have turned my hate to love, And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.
WARWICK	So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That if King Louis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I’ll undertake to land them on our coast And force the tyrant from his seat by war. ’Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him. And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, He’s very likely now to fall from him For matching more for wanton lust than honour, Or than for strength and safety of our country.
LADY BONA	(to King Louis) Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged, But by thy help to this distressed Queen?
QUEEN MARGARET	(to King Louis) Renowned Prince, how shall poor Henry live Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
LADY BONA	(to King Louis) My quarrel and this English Queen’s are one.
WARWICK	And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours.
KING LOUIS	And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret’s. Therefore at last I firmly am resolved: You shall have aid.
QUEEN MARGARET	Let me give humble thanks for all at once.
KING LOUIS	(to the Post) Then, England’s messenger, return in post And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Louis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride. Thou seest what’s passed, go fear thy king withal.
LADY BONA	(to the Post) Tell him, in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly, I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to the Post) Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside, And I am ready to put armour on.
WARWICK	(to the Post) Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere’t be long. (Giving money) There’s thy reward—be gone.
(didascalia)	Exit Post
KING LOUIS	But, Warwick, thou 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?
WARWICK	This shall assure my constant loyalty : That if our Queen and this young Prince agree, I’ll join mine eldest daughter and my joy To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.
QUEEN MARGARET	Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion. (To Prince Edward) Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, Therefore delay not. Give thy hand to Warwick, And with thy hand thy faith irrevocable That only Warwick’s daughter shall be thine.
PRINCE EDWARD	Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it, And here to pledge my vow I give my hand. He and Warwick clasp hands
KING LOUIS	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Warwick
WARWICK	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? Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that raised him to the crown, And I’ll be chief to bring him down again. Not that I pity Henry’s misery, But seek revenge on Edward’s mockery. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester, George Duke of Clarence, the Duke of Somerset, and the Marquis of Montague
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you Of this new marriage with the Lady Gray? Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Alas, you know ’tis far from hence to France; How could he stay till Warwick made return?
SOMERSET	My lords, forbear this talk—here comes the King.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward, the Lady Gray his
SOMERSET	Queen, the Earl of Pembroke, and the Lords
(didascalia)	Stafford and Hastings. Four stand on one side of
(didascalia)	the King, and four on the other
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And his well-chosen bride.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	I mind to tell him plainly what I think.
KING EDWARD	Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice, That you stand pensive, as half-malcontent?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	As well as Louis of France, or the Earl of Warwick, Which are so weak of courage and in judgement That they’ll take no offence at our abuse.
KING EDWARD	Suppose they take offence without a cause— They are but Louis and Warwick; I am Edward, Your king and Warwick’s, and must have my will.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And you shall have your will, because our king. Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
KING EDWARD	Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too ?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Not I, no—God forbid that I should wish them severed Whom God hath joined together. Ay, and ’twere pity To sunder them that yoke so well together.
KING EDWARD	Setting your scorns and your mislike aside, Tell me some reason why the Lady Gray Should not become my wife and England’s queen. And you too, Somerset and Montague, Speak freely what you think.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Then this is my opinion: that King Louis Becomes your enemy for mocking him About the marriage of the Lady Bona.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.
KING EDWARD	What if both Louis and Warwick be appeased By such invention as I can devise?
MONTAGUE	Yet, to have joined with France in such alliance Would more have strengthened this our commonwealth ’Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage.
HASTINGS	Why, knows not Montague that of itself England is safe, if true within itself?
MONTAGUE	But the safer when ’tis backed with France.
HASTINGS	’Tis better using France than trusting France. Let us be backed with God and with the seas Which he hath giv’n for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves. In them and in ourselves our safety lies.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.
KING EDWARD	Ay, what of that? It was my will and grant— And for this once my will shall stand for law.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	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.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Or else you would not have bestowed the heir Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife’s son, And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.
KING EDWARD	Alas, poor Clarence, is it for a wife That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	In choosing for yourself you showed your judgement, Which being shallow, you shall give me leave To play the broker in mine own behalf, And to that end I shortly mind to leave you.
KING EDWARD	Leave me, or tarry. Edward will be king, And not be tied unto his brother’s will.
LADY GRAY	My lords, before it pleased 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 have had like fortune. But as this title honours me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.
KING EDWARD	My love, forbear to fawn 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 for hatred at my hands, Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) I hear, yet say not much, but think the more.
(didascalia)	Enter the Post from France
KING EDWARD	Now, messenger, what letters or what news from France ?
POST	My sovereign liege, no letters and few words, But such as I, without your special pardon, Dare not relate.
KING EDWARD	Go to, we pardon thee. Therefore, in brief, Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. What answer makes King Louis unto our letters?
POST	At my depart these were his very words: ‘Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Louis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride.’
KING EDWARD	Is Louis so brave ? Belike he thinks me Henry. But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?
POST	These were her words, uttered with mild disdain: ‘Tell him in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly, I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.’
KING EDWARD	ame not her, she could say little less; She had the wrong. But what said Henry’s queen? For I have heard that she was there in place.
POST	‘Tell him‘, quoth she, ’my mourning weeds are done, And I am ready to put armour on.’
KING EDWARD	Belike she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwick to these injuries?
POST	He, more incensed against your majesty Than all the rest, discharged me with these words: ‘Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere’t be long.’
KING EDWARD	Ha! Durst the traitor breathe out so proud words? Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarned. They shall have wars and pay for their presumption. But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?
POST	Ay, gracious sovereign, they are so linked in friendship That young Prince Edward marries Warwick’s daughter.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Belike the elder; Clarence will have the 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 I may not prove inferior to yourself. You that love me and Warwick, follow me.
(didascalia)	Exit Clarence, and Somerset follows
(didascalia)	Not I—aside my thoughts aim at a further matter.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	I stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.
KING EDWARD	Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick? Yet am I armed against the worst can happen, And haste is needful in this desp’rate case. Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf Go levy men and make prepare for war. They are already, or quickly will be, landed. Myself in person will straight follow you.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Pembroke and Stafford
KING EDWARD	But ere I go, Hastings and Montague, Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, Are near’st to Warwick 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.
MONTAGUE	So God help Montague as he proves true.
HASTINGS	And Hastings as he favours Edward’s cause.
KING EDWARD	Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.
KING EDWARD	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

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Warwick and Oxford in England, with French soldiers
WARWICK	Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well. The common sort by numbers swarm to us.
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Clarence and Somerset
WARWICK	But see where Somerset and Clarence comes. Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends ?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Fear not that, my lord.
WARWICK	Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick— And welcome, Somerset. I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned 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 come, sweet Clarence, my daughter shall be thine. And now what rests but, in night’s coverture, Thy brother being carelessly encamped, 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 Diomed With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus’ tents And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, So we, well covered 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 Saint George!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter three Watchmen, to guard King Edward’s tent
FIRST WATCHMAN	Come on, my masters, each man take his stand. The King by this is set him down to sleep.
SECOND WATCHMAN	What, will he not to bed?
FIRST WATCHMAN	Why, no—for he hath made a solemn vow Never to lie and take his natural rest Till Warwick or himself be quite suppressed.
SECOND WATCHMAN	Tomorrow then belike shall be the day, If Warwick be so near as men report.
THIRD WATCHMAN	But say, I pray, what nobleman is that That with the King here resteth in his tent?
FIRST WATCHMAN	’Tis the Lord Hastings, the King’s chiefest friend.
THIRD WATCHMAN	O, is it so ? But why commands the King That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, While he himself keeps in the cold field?
SECOND WATCHMAN	’Tis the more honour, because more dangerous.
THIRD WATCHMAN	Ay, but give me worship and quietness— I like it better than a dangerous honour. If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, ’Tis to be doubted he would waken him.
FIRST WATCHMAN	Unless our halberds did shut up his passage.
SECOND WATCHMAN	Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent But to defend his person from night-foes?
(didascalia)	Enter silently the Earl of Warwick, George Duke of
SECOND WATCHMAN	Clarence, the Earl of Oxford, and the Duke of Somerset, with French soldiers
WARWICK	This is his tent—and see where stand his guard. Courage, my masters—honour now or never! But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
FIRST WATCHMAN	Who goes there?
SECOND WATCHMAN	Stay or thou diest. Warwick and the rest all cry ‘Warwick, Warwick!’ and set upon the guard, who fly, crying ‘Arm, arm!’ Warwick and the rest follow them

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	With the drummer playing and trumpeter sounding, enter the Earl of Warwick, the Duke of Somerset, and the rest bringing King Edward out in his gown, sitting in a chair. Richard Duke of Gloucester and Lord Hastings flies over the stage
SOMERSET	What are they that fly there?
WARWICK	Richard and Hastings—let them go. Here is the Duke.
KING EDWARD	‘The Duke’! Why, Warwick, when we parted, Thou calledst me king.
WARWICK	Ay, but the case is altered. When you disgraced me in my embassade, 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 how to use your brothers brotherly, Nor how to study for the people’s welfare, Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?
KING EDWARD	(seeing George) 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 compass of her wheel.
WARWICK	Then, for his mind, be Edward England’s king. Warwick takes off Edward’s crown But Henry now shall wear the English crown, And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow. My lord of Somerset, at my request, See that, forthwith, Duke Edward be conveyed Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, I’ll follow you, and tell what answer Louis and the Lady Bona send to him. Now for a while farewell, good Duke of York. They begin to lead Edward out forcibly
KING EDWARD	What fates impose, that men must needs abide. It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some with Edward
OXFORD	What now remains, my lords, for us to do But march to London with our soldiers?
WARWICK	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

Atto 4, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Earl Rivers and his sister, Lady Gray, Edward’s queen
RIVERS	Madam, what makes you in this sudden change?
LADY GRAY	Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn What late misfortune is befall’n King Edward?
RIVERS	What? Loss of some pitched battle against Warwick?
LADY GRAY	No, but the loss of his own royal person.
RIVERS	Then is my sovereign slain?
LADY GRAY	Ay, almost stain—for he is taken prisoner, Either betrayed 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.
RIVERS	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.
LADY GRAY	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 many a tear 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 th’English crown.
RIVERS	But, madam, where is Warwick then become?
LADY GRAY	I am informed that he comes towards 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’ll 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. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley, with soldiers
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Now my lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, Leave off 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 advertised 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.
(didascalia)	Enter King Edward and a Huntsman with him
HUNTSMAN	This way, my lord—for this way lies the game.
KING EDWARD	Nay, this way, man—see where the huntsmen stand. Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Stand you thus close to steal the Bishop’s deer?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Brother, the time and case requireth haste. Your horse stands ready at the park corner.
KING EDWARD	But whither shall we then?
HASTINGS	To Lynn, my lord, And shipped from thence to Flanders.
(didascalia)	RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER aside
HASTINGS	Well guessed, believe me—for that was my meaning.
KING EDWARD	Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	But wherefore stay we? ’Tis no time to talk.
KING EDWARD	Huntsman, what sayst thou? Wilt thou go along?
HUNTSMAN	Better do so than tarry and be hanged.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Come then, away—let’s have no more ado.
KING EDWARD	Bishop, farewell—shield thee from Warwick’s frown, And pray that I may repossess the crown. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter the Earl of Warwick and George Duke of Clarence with the crown. Then enter King Henry, the Earl of Oxford, the Duke of Somerset withl young Henry Ear of Richmond, the Marquis of Montague, and the Lieutenant of the Tower
KING HENRY	Master Lieutenant, now that God and friends Have shaken Edward from the regal seat And turned my captive state to liberty, My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, At our enlargement what are thy due fees?
LIEUTENANT	Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns— But if an humble prayer may prevail, I then crave pardon of your majesty.
KING HENRY	For what, Lieutenant? For well using me? Nay, be thou sure I’ll well requite thy kindness, For that it made my prisonment a pleasure— Ay, such a pleasure as encagèd birds Conceive when, after many moody thoughts, At last by notes of household harmony They quite forget their loss of liberty. But, Warwick, 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 punished with my thwarting stars, Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, I here resign my government to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
WARWICK	Your grace hath still been famed 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 when Clarence is in place.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the heav’ns in thy nativity Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown, As likely to be blest in peace and war. And therefore I yield thee my free consent.
WARWICK	And I choose Clarence only for Protector.
KING HENRY	Warwick and Clarence, give me both your hands. Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, That no dissension 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 creator’s praise.
WARWICK	What answers Clarence to his sovereign’s will?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	That he consents, if Warwick yield consent, For on thy fortune I repose myself.
WARWICK	Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content. We’ll 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 pronounced a traitor, And all his lands and goods be confiscate.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	What else? And that succession be determined.
WARWICK	Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part.
KING HENRY	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 eclipsed.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed.
KING HENRY	My lord of Somerset, what youth is that Of whom you seem to have so tender care?
SOMERSET	My liege, it is young Henry, Earl of Richmond.
KING HENRY	Come hither, England’s hope. King Henry lays his hand on Richmond’s head If secret powers Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, This pretty lad will prove our country’s bliss. His looks are full of peaceful majesty, His head by nature framed to wear a crown, His hand to wield a sceptre, 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.
(didascalia)	Enter a Post
WARWICK	What news, my friend?
POST	That Edward is escaped from your brother And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.
WARWICK	Unsavoury news—but how made he escape ?
POST	He was conveyed by Richard Duke of Gloucester 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.
WARWICK	My brother was too careless of his charge. (To King Henry) But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide A salve for any sore that may betide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford
SOMERSET	(to Oxford) 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 conflicts, What may befall him, to his harm and ours. Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, Forthwith we’ll send him hence to Brittany, Till storms be past of civil enmity.
OXFORD	Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, ’Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down.
SOMERSET	It shall be so—he shall to Brittany. Come, therefore, let’s about it speedily. Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 8

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and Lord Hastings, With a troop of Hollanders
KING EDWARD	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 passed and now repassed the seas And brought desired help from Burgundy. What then remains, we being thus arrived From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York, But that we enter, as into our dukedom ?
(didascalia)	Hastings knocks at the gates of York
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	The gates made fast? Brother, I like not this. For many men that stumble at the threshold Are well foretold that danger lurks within.
KING EDWARD	Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us. By fair or foul means we must enter in, For hither will our friends repair to us.
HASTINGS	My liege, I’ll knock once more to summon them. He knocks. Enter, on the walls, the Mayor and aldermen of York
MAYOR	My lords, we were forewarned of your coming, And shut the gates for safety of oursetves— For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.
KING EDWARD	But, Master Mayor, if Henry be your king, Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York.
MAYOR	True, my good lord, I know you for no less.
KING EDWARD	Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom, As being well content with that alone.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He’ll soon find means to make the body follow.
HASTINGS	Why, Master Mayor, why stand you in a doubt? Open the gates—we are King Henry’s friends.
MAYOR	Ay, say you so? The gates shall then be opened. They descend
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded.
HASTINGS	The good old man would fain that all were well, So ’twere not long of him; but being entered, I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade Both him and all his brothers unto reason.
(didascalia)	Enter below the Mayor and two aldermen
KING EDWARD	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, King Edward takes some keys from the Mayor For Edward will defend the town and thee, And all those friends that deign to follow me. March. Enter Sir John Montgomery with a drummer and soldiers
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.
KING EDWARD	Welcome, Sir John—but why come you in arms?
MONTGOMERY	To help King Edward in his time of storm, As every loyal subject ought to do.
KING EDWARD	Thanks, good Montgomery, but we now forget Our title to the crown, and only claim Our dukedom till God please to send the rest.
MONTGOMERY	Then fare you well, for I will hence again. I came to serve a king and not a duke. Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. 50 The drummer begins to sound a march
KING EDWARD	Nay, stay, Sir John, a while, and we’ll debate By what safe means the crown may be recovered.
MONTGOMERY	What talk you of debating? In few words, If you’ll not here proclaim yourself our king I’ll leave you to your fortune and be gone To keep them back that come to succour you. Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to King Edward) Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points?
KING EDWARD	When we grow stronger, then we’ll make our claim. Till then ’tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
HASTINGS	Away with scrupulous wit! Now arms must rule.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand, The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
KING EDWARD	Then be it as you will, for ’tis my right, And Henry but usurps the diadem.
MONTGOMERY	Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself, And now will I be Edward’s champion.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpet, Edward shall be here proclaimed.
(didascalia)	To Montgomery
HASTINGS	Come, fellow soldier, make thou proclamation.
(didascalia)	Flourish
(didascalia)	MONTGOMERY Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God
HASTINGS	King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland— And whosoe’er gainsays King Edward’s right, By this I challenge him to single fight. He throws down his gauntlet
ALL	Long live Edward the Fourth!
KING EDWARD	Thanks, brave Montgomery, and thanks unto you all. If fortune serve me I’ll requite this kindness. Now, 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’ll 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! Yet, as we may, we’ll meet both thee and Warwick. Come on, brave soldiers—doubt not of the day And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 9

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Earl of Warwick, the Marquis of Montague, George Duke of Clarence, and the Earl of Oxford
WARWICK	What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, Hath passed in safety through the narrow seas, And with his troops doth march amain to London, And many giddy people flock to him.
KING HENRY	Let’s levy men and beat him back again.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.
WARWICK	In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war. Those will I muster up. And thou, son Clarence, Shalt stir in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, The knights and gentlemen to come with thee. Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire shalt find Men well inclined to hear what thou command’st. And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved 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.
KING HENRY	Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy’s true hope.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	In sign of truth, I kiss your highness’ hand. He kisses King Henry’s hand
KING HENRY	Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
MONTAGUE	Comfort, my lord, and so I take my leave.
(didascalia)	He kisses King Henry’s hand
OXFORD	And thus I seal my truth and bid adieu.
(didascalia)	He kisses King Henry’s hand
KING HENRY	Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
WARWICK	Farewell, sweet lords—let’s meet at Coventry.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally!
(didascalia)	4.10 Erenter King Henry and the Duke of Exeter
KING HENRY	Here at the palace will I rest a while. Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? Methinks the power that Edward hath in field Should not be able to encounter mine.
EXETER	The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.
KING HENRY	That’s not my fear. My meed hath got me fame. I have not stopped 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 allayed their swelling griefs, My mercy dried their water-flowing tears. I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much erred. Then why should they love Edward more than me? No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace; And when the lion fawns upon the lamb, The lamb will never cease to follow him.
(didascalia)	Shout within ‘A Lancaster’, ‘A York’
EXETER	Hark, hark, my ford—what shouts are these?
(didascalia)	Enter King Edward and Richard Duke of Gloucester, with soldiers
KING EDWARD	Seize on the shame-faced Henry—bear him 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—tet him not speak.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some with King Henry and Exeter
KING EDWARD	And lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, Where peremptory Warwick now remains. The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay, Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Away betimes, before his forces join, And take the great-grown traitor unawares. Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick, the Mayar of Coventry, two Messengers, and others upon the walls
WARWICK	Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?
(didascalia)	The First Messenger steps forward
WARWICK	How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
FIRST MESSENGER	By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.
WARWICK	How far off is our brother Montague? Where is the post that came from Montague?
(didascalia)	the Second Messenger steps forward
SECOND MESSENGER	By this at Da’ntry, with a puissant troop.
(didascalia)	Enter Somerville to them, abovel
WARWICK	Say, Somerville-what says my loving son? And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
SOMERVILLE	At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here some two hours hence. A march afar off
WARWICK	Then Clarence is at hand-I hear his drum.
SOMERVILLE	It is not his, my lord. Here Southam lies. The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick.
WARWICK	Who should that be? Belike, unlooked-for friends.
SOMERVILLE	They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter below King Edward and Richard Duke of Gloucester, with soldiers
KING EDWARD	Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parley.
(didascalia)	Sound a parley
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.
WARWICK	O, unbid spite—is sportful Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced, That we could hear no news of his repair?
KING EDWARD	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 shall pardon thee these outrages.
WARWICK	Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confess who set thee up and plucked thee down, Call Warwick patron, and be penitent? And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	I thought at least he would have said ‘the King’. Or did he make the jest against his will?
WARWICK	Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give. I’ll do thee service for so good a gift.
WARWICK	’Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother.
KING EDWARD	Why then, ’tis mine, if but by Warwick’s gift.
WARWICK	Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight; And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
KING EDWARD	But Warwick’s king is Edward’s prisoner, And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: What is the body when the head is off?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, But whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The king was slyly fingered from the deck.
(didascalia)	To Warwick You left poor Henry at the Bishop’s palace,
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And ten to one you’ll meet him in the Tower.
(didascalia)	’Tis even so—to Warwick yet you are Warwick still.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Come, Warwick, take the time—kneel down, kneel down. Nay, when? Strike now, or else the iron cools.
WARWICK	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.
KING EDWARD	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’.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Oxford, with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
WARWICK	O cheerful colours! See where Oxford comes.
OXFORD	Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Oxford and his men pass over the stage and exeunt into the city
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to King Edward) The gates are open—let us enter too.
KING EDWARD	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’ll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.
(didascalia)	WARWICK to Oxford, within
KING EDWARD	O, welcome, Oxford—for we want thy help.
(didascalia)	Enter the Marquis of Montague with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
MONTAGUE	Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Montague and his men pass over the stage and exeunt into the city
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Thou and thy brother both shall bye this treason Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
KING EDWARD	The harder matched, the greater victory. My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Somerset with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
SOMERSET	Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Somerset and his men pass over the stage and exeunt into the city
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York— And thou shalt be the third, an this sword hold.
(didascalia)	Enter George Duke of Clarence with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
WARWICK	And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, Of force enough to bid his brother battle; With whom an upright zeal to right prevails More than the nature of a brother’s love.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster!
KING EDWARD	Et tu, Brute—wilt thou stab Caesar too? (To a trumpeter) A parley, sirra, to George of Clarence.
(didascalia)	Sound a parley. Richard of Gloucester and George of
KING EDWARD	Clarence whisper together
WARWICK	Come, Clarence, come—thou wilt if Warwick call.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Father of Warwick, know you what this means?
(didascalia)	He takes his red rose out of his hat and throws it at Warwick
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Look—here I throw my infamy at thee! I will not ruinate my father’s house, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, To bend the fatal instruments of war Against his brother and his lawful king? Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath. To keep that oath were more impiety Than Jephthah, when he sacrificed his daughter. I am so sorry for my trespass made That, to deserve well at my brothers’ hands, I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe, With resolution, wheresoe’er 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 brothers turn my blushing cheeks. (To King Edward) Pardon me, Edward—I will make amends. (To Richard) And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
KING EDWARD	Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved, Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) Welcome, good Clarence—this is brother-like.
WARWICK	(to George) O, passing traitor—perjured and unjust!
KING EDWARD	What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight? Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
(didascalia)	WARWICK aside
KING EDWARD	Alas, I am not cooped here for defence. (To King Edward) I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar’st.
KING EDWARD	Yes, Warwick—Edward dares, and leads the way. Lords, to the Held—Saint George and victory!
(didascalia)	Exeunt below King Edward and his company.
KING EDWARD	March. The Earl of Warwick and his company descend and follow

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum and excursions. Enter King Edward bringing forth the Earl of Warwick, wounded
KING EDWARD	So lie thou there. Die thou, and die our fear— For Warwick was a bug that feared us all. Now, Montague, sit fast—I seek for thee That Warwick’s bones may keep thine company. Exit
WARWICK	Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that? My mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, 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 over-peered Jove’s spreading tree And kept low shrubs from winter’s powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimmed with death’s black veil, Have been as piercing as the midday sun To search the secret treasons of the world. The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, Were likened oft to kingly sepulchres— For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? Lo now my glory smeared in dust and blood. My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me, and of all my lands Is nothing left me but my body’s length, Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Oxford and the Duke of Somerset
SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick, Warwick—wert thou as we are, We might recover all our loss again. The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power. Even now we heard the news. Ah, couldst thou fly!
WARWICK	Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while. Thou lov’st me not—for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood That glues my lips and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick—Montague hath breathed his last, And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, And said ‘Commend me to my valiant brother.’ And more he would have said, and more he spoke, Which sounded like a canon in a vault, That mote not be distinguished; but at last I well might hear, delivered with a groan, ‘O, farewell, Warwick.’
WARWICK	Sweet rest his soul. Fly, lords, and save yourselves— For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in heaven. He dies
OXFORD	Away, away—to meet the Queen’s great power! Here they bear away Warwick’s body. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard Duke of Gloucester, George Duke of Clarence, and soldiers
KING EDWARD	Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, And we are graced with wreaths of victory. But in the midst of this bright-shining day I spy a black suspicious threatening 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 raised in Gallia have arrived our coast, And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	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.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong, And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her. If she have time to breathe, be well assured, Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
KING EDWARD	We are advertised by our loving friends That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury. 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.
(didascalia)	Flourish. March Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. March. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of Oxford, and soldiers
QUEEN MARGARET	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 swallowed 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 saved? 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 allowed 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 wreck. As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. And what is Edward but a ruthless sea? What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? All these the enemies to our poor barque. Say you can swim—alas, ’tis but a while; Tread on the sand—why, there you quickly sink; Bestride the rock—the tide will wash you off, 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, That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers York More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks. Why, courage then—what cannot be avoided ’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
PRINCE EDWARD	Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, Infuse his breast with magnanimity And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. I speak not this as doubting any here— For did I but suspect a fearful man, He should have leave to go away betimes, Lest in our need he might infect another And make him of like spirit to himself. If any such be here—as God forbid— Let him depart before we need his help.
OXFORD	Women and children of so high a courage, And warriors faint—why, ’twere perpetual shame! O brave young Prince, thy famous grandfather Doth live again in thee! Long mayst thou live To bear his image and renew his glories I
SOMERSET	And he that will not fight for such a hope, Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, If he arise, be mocked and wondered at.
QUEEN MARGARET	Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.
PRINCE EDWARD	And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand Ready to fight—therefore be resolute.
OXFORD	I thought no less. It is his policy To haste thus fast to find us unprovided.
SOMERSET	But he’s deceived; we are in readiness.
QUEEN MARGARET	This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.
OXFORD	Here pitch our battle—hence we will not budge.
(didascalia)	Flourish and march. Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and George Duke of Clarence, with soldiers
KING EDWARD	(to his followers) Brave followers, yonder stands the 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to her followers) Lords, knights, and gentlemen—what I should say My tears gainsay; for every word I speak Ye see I drink the water of my eye. Therefore, no more but this: Henry your sovereign Is prisoner to the foe, his state usurped, His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancelled, 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.
(didascalia)	Alarum, retreat, excursions. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and George Duke of Clarence with Queen Margaret, the Earl of Oxford, and the Duke of Somerset, guarded
KING EDWARD	Now here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight; For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Go bear them hence—I will not hear them speak.
OXFORD	For my part, I’ll not trouble thee with words.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
SOMERSET	Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
QUEEN MARGARET	So part we sadly in this troublous world To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
KING EDWARD	Is proclamation made that who finds Edward Shall have a high reward and he his life?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	It is, and lo where youthful Edward comes.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Edward, guarded
KING EDWARD	Bring forth the gallant—let us hear him 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 turned me to?
PRINCE EDWARD	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.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, that thy father had been so resolved.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	That you might still have worn the petticoat And ne’er have stolen the breech from Lancaster.
PRINCE EDWARD	Let Aesop fable in a winter’s night— His currish riddles sorts not with this place.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	By heaven, brat, I’ll plague ye for that word.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	For God’s sake take away this captive scold.
PRINCE EDWARD	Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.
KING EDWARD	Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(to Prince Edward) Untutored lad, thou art too malapert.
PRINCE EDWARD	I know my duty—you are all undutiful. Lascivious Edward, and thou, perjured 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.
KING EDWARD	Take that, the likeness of this railer here. King Edward stabs Prince Edward
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Sprawl’st thou? Take that, to end thy agony. Richard stabs Prince Edward
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	And there’s for twitting me with perjury.
(didascalia)	George stabs Prince Edward, who dies
QUEEN MARGARET	O, kill me too!
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Marry, and shall. He offers to kill her
KING EDWARD	Hold, Richard, hold—for we have done too much.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Why should she live to fill the world with words? Queen Margaret faints
KING EDWARD	What—doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother. I’ll hence to London on a serious matter. Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) What? What?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) The Tower, the Tower. Exit
QUEEN MARGARET	O Ned, sweet Ned—speak to thy mother, boy. Canst thou not speak? O traitors, murderers! They that stabbed 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 murderer that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst an if I speak; And I will speak that so my heart may burst. Butchers and villains! Bloody cannibals! How sweet a plant have you untimely cropped! You have no children, butchers; if you had, The thought of them would have stirred 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!
KING EDWARD	Away with her—go, bear her hence perforce.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, never bear me hence—dispatch me here. Here sheathe thy sword—I’ll pardon thee my death. What? Wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do it thou.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
QUEEN MARGARET	Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself. ‘Twas sin before, but now ’tis charity. What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil’s butcher, Hard-favoured Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here. Murder is thy atms-deed— Petitioners for blood thou ne‘er putt’st back.
KING EDWARD	Away, I say—t charge ye, bear her hence.
QUEEN MARGARET	So come to you and yours as to this Prince!
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
KING EDWARD	Where’s Richard gone?
(didascalia)	To London all in post—aside and as I guess,
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
KING EDWARD	He’s sudden if a thing 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

Atto 5, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter on the walls King Henry the Sixth, reading a book, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and the Lieutenant of the Tower
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
KING HENRY	Ay, my good ford—‘my lord’, I should say, rather. ‘Tis sin to flatter; ‘good’ was little better. ‘Good Gloucester’ and ‘good devil’ were alike, And both preposterous—therefore not ‘good lord’.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to the Lieutenant) Sirrah, leave us to ourselves. We must confer.
(didascalia)	Exit Lieutenant
KING HENRY	So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf; So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher’s knife. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
KING HENRY	The bird that hath been limèd 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 limed, was caught and killed.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	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 drowned.
KING HENRY	I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun that seared the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger’s point Than can my ears that tragic history. But wherefore dost thou come? Is’t for my life?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Think’st thou I am an executioner?
KING HENRY	A persecutor I am sure thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Thy son I killed for his presumption.
KING HENRY	Hadst thou been killed when first thou didst presume, Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. And thus I prophesy: that many a thousand Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, And many an old man’s sigh, and many a widow‘s, And many an orphan’s water-standing eye— Men for their sons’, wives for their husbands‘, Orphans for their parents’ timeless death— Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. The owl shrieked at thy birth—an evil sign; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; Dogs howled, and hideous tempests shook down trees; The raven rooked her on the chimney’s top; And chatt’ring pies in dismal discords sung. Thy mother felt more than a mother’s pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother’s hope— To wit, an indigested and 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—
RICHARD	I’ll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech, He stabs him For this, amongst the rest, was I ordained.
KING HENRY	Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee. He dies
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	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. O, may such purple tears be alway shed From those that wish the downfall of our house! If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither— He stabs him again I that have neither pity, love, nor fear. Indeed, ‘tis true that Henry told me of, For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward. Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, And seek their ruin that usurped our right? The midwife wondered 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. Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so, Let hell make crooked my mind to answer it. I had no father, I am like no father; I have no brother, I 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 kept’st me from the light— But I will sort a pitchy day for thee. For I will buzz abroad such prophecies That Edward shall be fearful of his life, And then, to purge his fear, I’ll be thy death. Henry and his son are gone; thou, Clarence, art next; And by one and one I will dispatch the rest, Counting myself but bad till I be best. I’ll throw thy body in another room And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
(didascalia)	Exit with the body

Atto 5, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A chair of state. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Gray his Queen, George Duke off Clarence, Richard Duke of Gloucester, the Lord Hastings, a nurse carrying the infant Prince Edward, and attendants
KING EDWARD	Once more we sit in England’s royal throne, Repurchased with the blood of enemies. What valiant foemen, like to autumn’s corn, Have we mowed down in tops of all their pride! Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renowned For hardy and undoubted champions; Two Cliffords, as the father and the son; And two Northumbertands—two braver men Ne’er spurred their coursers at the trumpet’s sound. With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, That in their chains fettered the kingly lion And made the forest tremble when they roared. Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat And made our footstool of security. (To Lady Gray) Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. The nurse brings forth the infant prince. King Edward kisses him Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself Have in our armours watched the winter’s night, Went all afoot in summer’s scalding heat, That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace; And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) I’ll blast his harvest, an your head were laid; For yet I am not looked on in the world. This shoulder was ordained so thick to heave; And heave it shall some weight or break my back. Work thou the way, and thou shalt execute.
KING EDWARD	Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers, both.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	The duty that I owe unto your majesty I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. He kisses the infant prince
LADY GRAY	Thanks, noble Clarence—worthy brother, thanks.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang’st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. He kisses the infant prince (Aside) To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master, And cried ‘All hail!’ whenas he meant all harm.
KING EDWARD	Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country’s peace and brothers’ loves.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	What will your grace have done with Margaret? René her father, to the King of France Hath pawned the Sicils and Jerusalem, And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
KING EDWARD	Away with her, and waft her hence to France. And now what rests but that we spend the time With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
(didascalia)	Sound drums and trumpets—fareweti, sour annoy!
KING EDWARD	For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. Our edition adopts the 1595 version of 1.1.120-5 in the belief that it reflects an authorial revision; an edited text of the Folio alternative follows.
KING HENRY	Peace, thou—and give King Henry leave to speak.
WARWICK	Plantagenet shall speak first—hear him, lords, And be you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him shall not live.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to York
WARWICK	Think’st thou that I will leave my kingly throne, B. The 1595 text abridges 5.4.82.1-5.5.17, and may reflect authorial revision. An edited text of the abridged passage follows:
ALL THE LANCASTER PARTY	Saint George for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Alarums to the battle. The house of York flies, then the chambers are discharged. Then enter King Edward, George of Clarence, and Richard of Gloucester, and their followers: they make a great shout, and cry ‘For York! For York!’ Then Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, Oxford and Somerset are all taken prisoner. Flourish, and enter all again
KING EDWARD	Now here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight; For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Go, bear them hence—I will not hear them speak.
OXFORD	For my part, I’ll not trouble thee with words.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
SOMERSET	Nor I, but stoop with patience to my death.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
KING EDWARD	(to Prince Edward) Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make For stirring up my subjects to rebellion?
PRINCE EDWARD	Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York.
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND	OTHERS
THE	play printed here first appeared in the 1623 Folio, as The First Part of Henry VI; it tells the beginning of the story that is continued in The First Part of the Contention and in Richard Duke of York. Although in narrative sequence it belongs before those plays, there is good reason to believe that it was written after them. It is probably the ‘new’ play referred to as ‘harey the vj’ in the record of its performance on 3 March 1592 by Lord Strange’s Men. The box-office takings of £3 16s. 8d. were a record for the season, and the play was acted another fifteen times during the following ten months. Its success is mentioned in Thomas Nashe’s satirical pamphlet Piers Penniless, published later in 1592. Defending the drama against moralistic attacks, Nashe claims that plays based on ‘our English chronicles’ celebrate ‘our forefathers’ valiant acts’ and set them up as a ‘reproof to these degenerate effeminate days of ours’. By way of illustration he alludes specifically to the exploits of Lord Talbot, the principal English warrior in Henry VI Part One: ‘How would it have joyed brave Talbot, the terror of the French, to think that after he had lain two hundred years in his tomb he should triumph again on the stage, and have his bones new-embalmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators at least, at several times, who in the tragedian that represents his person imagine they behold him fresh bleeding!’ Nashe may have had personal reasons to puff this play: a variety of evidence suggests that Shakespeare wrote it in collaboration with at least two other authors; Nashe himself was probably responsible for Act 1. The passages most confidently attributed to Shakespeare are Act 2, Scene 4 and Act 4, Scene 2 to the death of Talbot at 4.7.32. A mass of material, some derived from ‘English chronicles’, some invented, is packed into this play. It opens impressively with the funeral of Henry V, celebrated for unifying England and subjugating France; but his nobles are at loggerheads even over his coffin, and news rapidly arrives of serious losses in France. The rivalry displayed here between Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester—Protector of the infant Henry VI—and Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, plays an important part in both this play and The Contention, as does the conflict between Richard, Duke of York, and the houses of Somerset and Suffolk; in the Temple Garden scene (2.4), invented by Shakespeare, York’s and Somerset’s supporters symbolize their respective loyalties by plucking white and red roses. Their dissension weakens England’s military strength, but she has a great hero in Lord Talbot, whose nobility as a warrior is pitted against the treachery of the French, led by King Charles and Joan la Pucelle (Joan of Arc), here—following the chronicles—portrayed as a witch and a whore. Historical facts are freely manipulated: Joan was burnt in 1431, though the play’s authors have her take part in a battle of 1451 in which Talbot’s death is brought forward by two years. The play ends with an uneasy peace between England and France.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY The English
KING	Henry VI Duke of GLOUCESTER, Lord Protector, uncle of King Henry Duke of BEDFORD, Regent of France Duke of EXETER Bishop of WINCHESTER (later Cardinal), uncle of King Henry Duke of SOMERSET
RICHARD	PLANTAGENET, later DUKE OF YORK, and Regent of France Earl of WARWICK Earl of SALISBURY Earl of SUFFOLK Lord TALBOT
JOHN	Talbot Edmund MORTIMER Sir William GLASDALE Sir Thomas GARGRAVE Sir John FASTOLF Sir William LUCY WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower of London
MAYOR	of London
BASSET	A LAWYER A LEGATE Messengers, warders and keepers of the Tower of London, servingmen, officers, captains, soldiers, herald, watch The French CHARLES, Dauphin of France RENÉ, Duke of Anjou, King of Naples MARGARET, his daughter Duke of ALENÇON
BASTARD	of Orléans Duke of BURGUNDY, uncle of King Henry
GENERAL	of the French garrison at Bordeaux
COUNTESS	of Auvergne
MASTER GUNNER	of Orléans A BOY, his son
JOAN	la Pucelle A SHEPHERD, father of Joan Porter, French sergeant, French sentinels, French scout, French herald, the Governor of Paris, fiends, and soldiers

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A chair of state. Alarum. Enter Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, his two sons Edward, Earl of March, and Crookback Richard, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis of Montague, and the Earl of Warwick, with drummers and soldiers. They all wear white roses in their hats
WARWICK	I wonder how the King escaped our hands?
YORK	While we pursued the horsemen of the north, He slyly stole away and left his men; Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheered up the drooping army; and himself, Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast, Charged our main battle’s front, and, breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
EDWARD	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. He shows a bloody sword
(didascalia)	MONTAGUE to York
EDWARD	And, brother, here’s the Earl of Wiltshire’s blood, He shows a bloody sword Whom I encountered as the battles joined.
RICHARD	(to Somerset’s head, which he shows) Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.
YORK	Richard hath best deserved of all my sons. (To the head) But is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset?
NORFOLK	Such hap have all the line of John of Gaunt.
RICHARD	Thus do I hope to shake King Henry’s head.
(didascalia)	He holds aloft the head, then throws it down
WARWICK	And so do I, 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 (pointing to the chair of state), 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.
NORFOLK	We’ll all assist you—he that flies shall die.
YORK	Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords And soidiers—stay, and lodge by me this night. They go up upon the state
WARWICK	And when the King comes, offer him no violence Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.
(didascalia)	The soldiers withdraw
YORK	The Queen this day here holds her Parliament, But little thinks we shall be of her council; By words or blows here let us win our right.
RICHARD	Armed as we are, let’s stay within this house.
WARWICK	‘The Bloody Parliament’ shall this be called, Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king, And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice Hath made us bywords to our enemies.
YORK	Then leave me not, my lords. Be resolute— I mean to take possession of my right.
WARWICK	Neither the King nor he that loves him best— The proudest he that holds up Lancaster— Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells. I’ll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares. Resolve thee, Richard—claim the English crown.
(didascalia)	York sits in the chair.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Henry, Lord Clifford, the Earls
WARWICK	of Northumberland and Westmorland, the Duke of
(didascalia)	Exeter, and the rest. They all wear red roses in
(didascalia)	their hats
KING HENRY	My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits— Even in the chair of state! Belike he means, Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer, To aspire unto the crown and reign as king. Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father— And thine, Lord Clifford—and you both have vowed revenge On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.
NORTHUMBERLAND	If I be not, heavens be revenged on me.
CLIFFORD	The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.
WESTMORLAND	What, shall we suffer this? Let’s pluck him down. My heart for anger burns—I cannot brook it.
KING HENRY	Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmorland.
CLIFFORD	Patience is for poltroons, such as he (indicating York). He durst not sit there had your father lived. My gracious lord, here in the Parliament Let us assail the family of York.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Well hast thou spoken, cousin, be it so.
KING HENRY	Ah, know you not the city favours them, And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?
EXETER	But when the Duke is slain, they’ll quickly fly.
KING HENRY	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. (To York) 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.
EXETER	For shame, come down—he made thee Duke of York.
YORK	It was mine inheritance, as the earldom was.
EXETER	Thy father was a traitor to the crown.
WARWICK	Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown In following this usurping Henry.
CLIFFORD	Whom should he follow but his natural king?
WARWICK	True, Clifford, and that’s Richard Duke of York.
KING HENRY	(to York) And shall I stand and thou sit in my throne?
YORK	It must and shall be so—content thyself.
WARWICK	(to King Henry) Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be king.
WESTMORLAND	He is both king and Duke of Lancaster— And that, the Lord of Westmorland shall maintain.
WARWICK	And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget That we are those which chased you from the field, And slew your fathers, and, with colours spread, Marched through the city to the palace gates.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief, And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
WESTMORLAND	(to York) Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I’ll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my father’s veins.
CLIFFORD	(to Warwick) Urge it no more, lest that, instead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger As shall revenge his death before I stir.
(didascalia)	WARWICK to York
CLIFFORD	Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats.
(didascalia)	YORK to King Henry
CLIFFORD	Will you we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.
KING HENRY	What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York; Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. I am the son of Henry the Fifth, Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop And seized upon their towns and provinces.
WARWICK	Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.
KING HENRY	The Lord Protector lost it, and not I. When I was crowned, I was but nine months old.
RICHARD	You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose. (To York) Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head.
EDWARD	(to York) Sweet father, do so—set it on your head.
MONTAGUE	(to York) Good brother, as thou lov‘st and honour’st arms, Let’s fight it out and not stand cavilling thus.
(didascalia)	Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly.
YORK	Sons, peace!
(didascalia)	NORTHUMBERLAND
YORK	Peace, thou—and give King Henry leave to speak.
KING HENRY	Ah, York, why seekest thou to depose me? Are we not both Plantagenets by birth, And from two brothers lineally descent? Suppose by right and equity thou be king— 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.
WARWICK	Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king.
KING HENRY	Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.
YORK	’Twas by rebellion against his king.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY aside
YORK	I know not what to say—my title’s weak. (To York) Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?
YORK	What then?
KING HENRY	An if he may, then am I lawful king— For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth, Whose heir my father was, and I am his.
YORK	He rose against him, being his sovereign, And made him to resign his crown perforce.
WARWICK	Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrained— Think you ’twere prejudicial to his crown?
EXETER	No, for he could not so resign his crown But that the next heir should succeed and reign.
KING HENRY	Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?
EXETER	His is the right, and therefore pardon me.
YORK	Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?
(didascalia)	EXETER to King Henry
YORK	My conscience tells me he is lawful king.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY aside
YORK	All will revolt from me and turn to him.
NORTHUMBERLAND	(to York) Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay’st, Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.
WARWICK	Deposed he shall be, in despite of all.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Thou art deceived—’tis not thy southern power Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud, Can set the Duke up in despite of me.
CLIFFORD	King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence. May that ground gape and swallow me alive Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father.
KING HENRY	O, Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!
YORK	Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown. What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
WARWICK	Do right unto this princely Duke of York, Or I will fill the house with armed men And over the chair of state, where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood. He stamps with his foot and the soldiers show themselves
KING HENRY	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.
KING HENRY	I am content. Richard Plantagenet, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.
CLIFFORD	What wrong is this unto the prince your son?
WARWICK	What good is this to England and himself?
WESTMORLAND	Base, fearful, and despairing Henry.
CLIFFORD	How hast thou injured both thyself and us?
WESTMORLAND	I cannot stay to hear these articles.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Nor I.
CLIFFORD	Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news.
WESTMORLAND	(to King Henry) Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.
(didascalia)	Exit with his soldiers
NORTHUMBERLAND	(to King Henry) Be thou a prey unto the house of York, And die in bands for this unmanly deed.
(didascalia)	Exit with his soldiers
CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, Or live in peace, abandoned and despised.
(didascalia)	Exit with his soldiers
WARWICK	(to King Henry) Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not.
EXETER	(to King Henry) They seek revenge and therefore will not yield.
KING HENRY	Ah, Exeter.
WARWICK	Why should you sigh, my lord?
KING HENRY	Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. But be it as it may. (To York) I here entail The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever, Conditionally, that here thou take thine oath To cease this civil war, and whilst I live To honour me as thy king and sovereign, And nor by treason nor hostility To seek to put me down and reign thyself.
YORK	This oath I willingly take and will perform.
WARWICK	Long live King Henry. (To York) Plantagenet, embrace him.
(didascalia)	York descends. Henry and York embrace
KING HENRY	(to York) And long live thou, and these thy forward sons.
YORK	Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.
EXETER	Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes. Sennet. Here York’s train comes down from the state
YORK	(to King Henry)
(didascalia)	Farewell, my gracious lord, I’ll to my castle. Exeunt York, Edward, and Richard, with soldiers
WARWICK	And I’ll keep London with my soldiers.
(didascalia)	Exit With soldiers
NORFOLK	And I to Norfolk with my followers.
(didascalia)	Exit With soldiers
MONTAGUE	And I unto the sea from whence I came.
(didascalia)	Exit with soldiers
(didascalia)	And I with grief and sorrow to the court. King Henry and Exeter turn to leave.
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret and Prince Edward
EXETER	Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her anger. I’ll steal away.
KING HENRY	Exeter, so will I.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, go not from me—I will follow thee.
KING HENRY	Be patient, gentle Queen, and I will stay.
QUEEN MARGARET	Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man, would I had died a maid And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father. Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus? Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I did for him once, Or nourished him as I did with my blood, Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there Rather than have made that savage Duke thine heir And disinherited thine only son.
PRINCE EDWARD	Father, you cannot disinherit me. If you be king, why should not I succeed?
KING HENRY	Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son— The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.
QUEEN MARGARET	Enforced thee? Art thou king, and wilt be forced? I shame to hear thee speak! Ah, timorous wretch, Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me, And giv’n unto the house of York such head As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. To entail him and his heirs unto the crown— What is it, but to make thy sepulchre And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor and the Lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The Duke is made Protector of the Realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds The trembling lamb environèd with wolves. Had I been there, which am a seely woman, The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes Before I would have granted to that act. But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honour. And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, Until that act of Parliament be repealed Whereby my son is disinherited. The northern 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 the utter ruin of the house of York. Thus do I leave thee. (To Prince Edward) Come, son, let’s away. Our army is ready—come, we’ll after them.
KING HENRY	Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET	Thou hast spoke too much already.
(didascalia)	To Prince Edward Get thee gone.
KING HENRY	Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, to be murdered by his enemies.
PRINCE EDWARD	(to King Henry) When I return with victory from the field, I’ll see your grace. Till then, I’ll follow her.
QUEEN MARGARET	Come, son, away—we may not linger thus.
(didascalia)	Exit with Prince Edward
KING HENRY	Poor Queen, how love to me and to her son Hath made her break out into terms of rage. Revenged may she be on that hateful Duke, Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will coast 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. I’ll write unto them and entreat them fair. Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
EXETER	And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un trono. Squillo d’allarme. Entrano Riccardo Plantageneto, duca di York, i suoi due figli Edoardo, conte di March, e Riccardo il Gobbo, il duca di Norfolk, il marchese di Montague, e il conte di Warwick, con tamburini e soldati. Tutti portano rose bianche sui cappelli
WARWICK	Mi domando come il re sia scampato alle nostre mani?
YORK	Mentre inseguivamo i cavalieri del nord, egli furtivo si dileguò lasciando i suoi uomini; allora il gran signore di Northumberland, il cui orecchio guerriero mai tollerò ritirata, rianimò l’esercito che cedeva; ed egli stesso, lord Clifford e lord Stafford, tutti affiancati, caricarono il fronte della nostra schiera, e, sfondando, furono trucidati dalle spade di soldati comuni.
EDOARDO	Il padre di lord Stafford, duca di Buckingham, o è ucciso o è ferito a morte. Gli spaccai la visiera con un colpo diritto. Che questo sia vero, padre, guardate il suo sangue. Mostra una spada sanguinante
(didascalia)	MONTAGUE a York
EDOARDO	E, fratello, ecco il sangue del conte di Wiltshire, Mostra una spada sanguinante che affrontai quando le schiere si scontrarono.
RICCARDO	(alla testa di Somerset, che mostra) Parla tu per me, e di’ loro ciò che ho fatto.
YORK	Riccardo ha meritato più di tutti i miei figli. (Alla testa) Ma è morta vostra grazia, mio signore di Somerset?
NORFOLK	Tale sorte abbia tutta la stirpe di Giovanni di Gaunt.
RICCARDO	Così spero di scuotere la testa di re Enrico.
(didascalia)	Solleva in alto la testa, poi la getta a terra
WARWICK	E così anch’io, vittorioso principe di York. Prima di vederti insediato su quel trono che ora la casa di Lancaster usurpa, giuro per il cielo che questi occhi non si chiuderanno. Questo è il palazzo del re pauroso, e questo (indicando il trono), il regale seggio—prendilo, York, perché è tuo, e non degli eredi di re Enrico.
YORK	Assistimi allora, dolce Warwick, e lo farò, ché qui siamo entrati a viva forza.
NORFOLK	Tutti ti assisteremo—chi fugge morirà.
YORK	Grazie, gentile Norfolk. Restate presso di me, miei signori e soldati—restate, e alloggiate presso di me questa notte. Salgono sul trono
WARWICK	E quando viene il re, non usargli violenza a meno che non cerchi di cacciarti fuori a forza.
(didascalia)	I soldati si ritirano
YORK	La regina tiene oggi qui il suo Parlamento, ma poco pensa che saremo del suo consiglio; con parole o con colpi conquistiamo qui il nostro diritto.
RICCARDO	Armati come siamo, restiamo dentro questa casa.
WARWICK	‘Il Parlamento Sanguinario’ sarà chiamato questo, se Plantageneto, duca di York, non sarà re, e il timido Enrico non sarà deposto, la cui codardia ci ha resi lo scherno dei nostri nemici.
YORK	Allora non lasciatemi, miei signori. Siate risoluti— intendo prendere possesso del mio diritto.
WARWICK	Né il re né chi più l’ama— il più superbo fra quanti sostengono Lancaster— osa muovere un’ala se Warwick scuote i suoi campanelli. Io pianterò Plantageneto: lo sradichi chi osa. Decidi, Riccardo—reclama la corona d’Inghilterra.
(didascalia)	York siede sul trono.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entrano re Enrico, lord Clifford, i conti
WARWICK	di Northumberland e Westmorland, il duca di
(didascalia)	Exeter, e gli altri. Tutti portano rose rosse nei
(didascalia)	loro cappelli
RE ENRICO	Miei signori, guardate dove siede il tenace ribelle— proprio sul trono! Certo egli intende, sostenuto dal potere di Warwick, quel falso pari, aspirare alla corona e regnare da re. Conte di Northumberland, egli uccise tuo padre— e il tuo, lord Clifford—e voi entrambi avete giurato vendetta contro lui, i suoi figli, i suoi favoriti e i suoi amici.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Se non lo faccio, si vendichi il cielo su di me.
CLIFFORD	La speranza di ciò fa che Clifford porti lutto nell’acciaio.
WESTMORLAND	Che? Dobbiamo sopportarlo? Strappiamolo giù. Il cuore mi brucia d’ira—non lo tollero.
RE ENRICO	Sii paziente, gentile conte di Westmorland.
CLIFFORD	La pazienza è per i codardi, come lui (indicando York). Non oserebbe sedere là se vostro padre vivesse. Mio grazioso signore, qui nel Parlamento assaliamo la famiglia di York.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Bene hai parlato, cugino, sia così.
RE ENRICO	Ah, non sapete che la città li favorisce, e che hanno schiere di soldati a un loro cenno?
EXETER	Ma ucciso il duca, fuggiranno in fretta.
RE ENRICO	Lungi dal cuore di Enrico questo pensiero, di fare un macello della Casa del Parlamento. Cugino di Exeter, cipigli, parole e minacce saranno la guerra che Enrico intende usare. (A York) Tu, fazioso duca di York, scendi dal mio trono e inginocchiati per grazia e pietà ai miei piedi. Io sono il tuo sovrano.
YORK	Sono io il tuo.
EXETER	Vergogna, scendi—egli ti fece duca di York.
YORK	Era mia eredità, come lo era la contea.
EXETER	Tuo padre fu un traditore della corona.
WARWICK	Exeter, tu sei un traditore della corona seguendo questo Enrico usurpatore.
CLIFFORD	Chi dovrebbe seguire se non il suo naturale re?
WARWICK	Vero, Clifford, e quello è Riccardo duca di York.
RE ENRICO	(a York) E io starò in piedi e tu sederai sul mio trono?
YORK	Deve e sarà così—accontèntati.
WARWICK	(a re Enrico) Sii duca di Lancaster, lascia che egli sia re.
WESTMORLAND	Egli è re e duca di Lancaster insieme— e questo il signore di Westmorland sosterrà.
WARWICK	E Warwick lo confuterà. Dimenticate che noi siamo quelli che vi cacciarono dal campo, e uccisero i vostri padri, e, con le insegne al vento, marciarono per la città fino alle porte del palazzo.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Sì, Warwick, lo ricordo a mio dolore, e, per la sua anima, tu e la tua casa ne piangerete.
WESTMORLAND	(a York) Plantageneto, di te, e di questi tuoi figli, dei tuoi parenti e dei tuoi amici, avrò più vite di quante gocce di sangue furono nelle vene di mio padre.
CLIFFORD	(a Warwick) Non insistere più, ché invece di parole io ti manderò, Warwick, un tale messaggero che vendicherà la sua morte prima ch’io mi muova.
(didascalia)	WARWICK a York
CLIFFORD	Povero Clifford, come disprezzo le sue vane minacce.
(didascalia)	YORK a re Enrico
CLIFFORD	Volete che mostriamo il nostro titolo alla corona? Se no, le nostre spade lo perorino sul campo.
RE ENRICO	Che titolo hai tu, traditore, alla corona? Tuo padre fu, come tu sei, duca di York; tuo nonno, Roger Mortimer, conte di March. Io sono il figlio di Enrico Quinto, che piegò il Delfino e i Francesi e s’impadronì delle loro città e province.
WARWICK	Non parlare di Francia, poiché l’hai perduta tutta.
RE ENRICO	La perse il lord Protettore, non io. Quando fui incoronato, avevo appena nove mesi.
RICCARDO	Ora sei grande abbastanza, e tuttavia, mi pare, perdi. (A York) Padre, strappa la corona dalla testa dell’usurpatore.
EDOARDO	(a York) Dolce padre, fatelo—ponetela sul vostro capo.
MONTAGUE	(a York) Buon fratello, come ami e onori le armi, battiamoci e non stiamo a cavillare così.
(didascalia)	Suonate tamburi e trombe, e il re fuggirà.
YORK	Figli, pace!
(didascalia)	NORTHUMBERLAND
YORK	Pace, tu—e lascia parlare re Enrico.
RE ENRICO	Ah, York, perché cerchi di depormi? Non siamo entrambi Plantageneti per nascita, e da due fratelli discesi in linea diretta? Supponi che per diritto ed equità tu sia re— credi che io lascerò il mio trono regale, dove sedettero il mio avo e mio padre? No—prima la guerra spopolerà questo mio regno; sì, e le loro insegne, spesso portate in Francia, e ora in Inghilterra a gran dolore del nostro cuore, saranno il mio sudario. Perché vi sgomentate, signori? Il mio titolo è buono, e ben migliore del suo.
WARWICK	Provalo, Enrico, e sarai re.
RE ENRICO	Enrico Quarto ottenne la corona per conquista.
YORK	Fu per ribellione contro il suo re.
(didascalia)	RE ENRICO a parte
YORK	Non so che dire—il mio titolo è debole. (A York) Dimmi, non può un re adottare un erede?
YORK	E allora?
RE ENRICO	E se può, allora io sono legittimo re— ché Riccardo, al cospetto di molti signori, rassegnò la corona a Enrico Quarto, del quale mio padre fu erede, e io sono il suo.
YORK	Si levò contro di lui, che era il suo sovrano, e lo costrinse a rassegnare la corona per forza.
WARWICK	Supponete, signori, che l’abbia fatto non costretto— credete che sarebbe pregiudizievole alla sua corona?
EXETER	No, perché non poteva così rassegnare la corona senza che l’erede più prossimo succedesse e regnasse.
RE ENRICO	Sei tu contro di noi, duca di Exeter?
EXETER	Suo è il diritto, e perciò perdonatemi.
YORK	Perché sussurrate, signori, e non rispondete?
(didascalia)	EXETER a re Enrico
YORK	La mia coscienza mi dice che egli è legittimo re.
(didascalia)	RE ENRICO a parte
YORK	Tutti si ribelleranno a me e si volgeranno a lui.
NORTHUMBERLAND	(a York) Plantageneto, per ogni pretesa che tu avanzi, non pensare che Enrico sarà così deposto.
WARWICK	Deposto sarà, a dispetto di tutti.
NORTHUMBERLAND	T’inganni—non è la tua forza del sud, d’Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, né di Kent, che ti rende così presuntuoso e superbo, che possa innalzare il duca a mio dispetto.
CLIFFORD	Re Enrico, sia il tuo titolo giusto o torto, lord Clifford giura di combattere in tua difesa. Si spalanchi quel suolo e mi inghiotta vivo là dove m’inginocchiassi a chi uccise mio padre.
RE ENRICO	O Clifford, come le tue parole rianimano il mio cuore!
YORK	Enrico di Lancaster, rassegna la tua corona. Che mormorate, o che cospirate, signori?
WARWICK	Fate giustizia a questo principesco duca di York, o riempirò la casa di uomini armati e sopra il trono, dove ora egli siede, scriverò il suo titolo con sangue usurpatore. Batte il piede e i soldati si mostrano
RE ENRICO	Mio signore di Warwick, ascoltatemi una sola parola— lasciate ch’io regni da re per questa mia vita.
YORK	Conferma la corona a me e ai miei eredi, e regnerai in pace mentre vivi.
RE ENRICO	Sono contento. Riccardo Plantageneto, godi il regno dopo il mio trapasso.
CLIFFORD	Che torto è questo al principe vostro figlio?
WARWICK	Che bene è questo per l’Inghilterra e per lui stesso?
WESTMORLAND	Vile, pauroso e disperato Enrico.
CLIFFORD	Come hai offeso te stesso e noi insieme?
WESTMORLAND	Non posso restare a udire questi articoli.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Né io.
CLIFFORD	Venite, cugino, andiamo a dire alla regina queste nuove.
WESTMORLAND	(a re Enrico) Addio, re pusillanime e degenere, nel cui freddo sangue non dimora scintilla d’onore.
(didascalia)	Esce con i suoi soldati
NORTHUMBERLAND	(a re Enrico) Sii preda della casa di York, e muori in catene per questo atto non virile.
(didascalia)	Esce con i suoi soldati
CLIFFORD	(a re Enrico) In guerra terribile possa tu essere vinto, o vivere in pace, abbandonato e disprezzato.
(didascalia)	Esce con i suoi soldati
WARWICK	(a re Enrico) Volgiti da questa parte, Enrico, e non badare a loro.
EXETER	(a re Enrico) Cercano vendetta e perciò non cederanno.
RE ENRICO	Ah, Exeter.
WARWICK	Perché sospirate, mio signore?
RE ENRICO	Non per me, lord Warwick, ma per mio figlio, che snaturatamente diserederò. Ma sia come sia. (A York) Io qui vincolo la corona a te e ai tuoi eredi per sempre, a condizione che qui tu presti giuramento di cessare questa guerra civile, e mentre io vivo di onorarmi come tuo re e sovrano, e né per tradimento né per ostilità di cercare d’abbattermi e di regnare tu stesso.
YORK	Questo giuramento presto volentieri e lo compirò.
WARWICK	Viva re Enrico. (A York) Plantageneto, abbraccialo.
(didascalia)	York scende. Enrico e York si abbracciano
RE ENRICO	(a York) E viva tu, e questi tuoi arditi figli.
YORK	Ora York e Lancaster sono riconciliati.
EXETER	Maledetto colui che cerca di farne nemici. Sennet. Qui il séguito di York scende dal trono
YORK	(a re Enrico)
(didascalia)	Addio, mio grazioso signore, andrò al mio castello. Escono York, Edoardo e Riccardo, con soldati
WARWICK	E io terrò Londra coi miei soldati.
(didascalia)	Esce Con i soldati
NORFOLK	E io a Norfolk coi miei seguaci.
(didascalia)	Esce Con i soldati
MONTAGUE	E io al mare da cui venni.
(didascalia)	Esce con i soldati
(didascalia)	E io con pena e dolore alla corte. Re Enrico ed Exeter si volgono per uscire.
(didascalia)	Entrano la regina Margherita e il principe Edoardo
EXETER	Ecco viene la regina, il cui sguardo tradisce la sua ira. Me ne andrò di soppiatto.
RE ENRICO	Exeter, e anch’io.
REGINA MARGHERITA	No, non allontanarti da me—io ti seguirò.
RE ENRICO	Sii paziente, gentile regina, e resterò.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Chi può esser paziente in tali estremi? Ah, uomo miserabile, fossi morta vergine e non t’avessi mai visto, mai partorito un figlio, vedendo che ti sei mostrato padre così snaturato. Ha egli meritato di perdere così il suo diritto di nascita? Se solo l’avessi amato la metà di quanto bene l’amai io, o sentito quel dolore che io sentii per lui un tempo, o nutrito lui come io feci col mio sangue, avresti lasciato là il sangue più caro del tuo cuore anziché fare di quel selvaggio duca il tuo erede e diseredare il tuo unico figlio.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Padre, non potete diseredarmi. Se voi siete re, perché non dovrei succedervi?
RE ENRICO	Perdonami, Margherita; perdonami, dolce figlio— il conte di Warwick e il duca mi costrinsero.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Costretto? Sei tu re, e vuoi esser costretto? Mi vergogno d’udirti parlare! Ah, timoroso miserabile, hai rovinato te stesso, tuo figlio e me, e dato alla casa di York tale libertà che regnerai solo per loro tolleranza. Vincolare lui e i suoi eredi alla corona— che è, se non farti il sepolcro e strisciarvi dentro molto prima del tuo tempo? Warwick è Cancelliere e signore di Calais; il severo Falconbridge comanda gli stretti mari; il duca è fatto Protettore del Regno; e tu sarai al sicuro? Tale sicurezza trova l’agnello tremante circondato dai lupi. Fossi stata là, io che sono una debole donna, i soldati m’avrebbero gettata sulle loro picche prima ch’io consentissi a quell’atto. Ma tu preferisci la tua vita al tuo onore. E poiché fai così, io qui mi separo sia dalla tua mensa, Enrico, sia dal tuo letto, finché quell’atto del Parlamento non sia revocato per cui mio figlio è diseredato. I signori del nord che hanno abiurato le tue insegne seguiranno le mie, se una volta le vedranno spiegate— e spiegate saranno, a tua turpe vergogna e a totale rovina della casa di York. Così ti lascio. (Al principe Edoardo) Vieni, figlio, andiamo. Il nostro esercito è pronto—vieni, andremo dietro a loro.
RE ENRICO	Resta, gentile Margherita, e ascoltami parlare.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Hai già parlato troppo.
(didascalia)	Al principe Edoardo Vattene.
RE ENRICO	Gentile figlio Edoardo, resterai con me?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Sì, per essere assassinato dai suoi nemici.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	(a re Enrico) Quando tornerò vittorioso dal campo, vedrò vostra grazia. Fino allora, la seguirò.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Vieni, figlio, via—non possiamo indugiare così.
(didascalia)	Esce col principe Edoardo
RE ENRICO	Povera regina, come l’amore per me e per suo figlio l’ha fatta erompere in parole di rabbia. Possa ella vendicarsi di quel duca odioso, il cui spirito altero, alato di desiderio, insidierà la mia corona, e, come aquila digiuna, si pascerà della carne mia e di mio figlio. La perdita di quei tre signori mi tormenta il cuore. Scriverò loro e li pregherò cortesemente. Venite, cugino, voi sarete il messaggero.
EXETER	E io, spero, li riconcilierò tutti.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard, Edward Earl of March, and the Marquis of Montague
RICHARD	Brother, though I be youngest give me leave.
EDWARD	No, I can better play the orator.
MONTAGUE	But I have reasons strong and forcible.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of York
YORK	Why, how now, sons and brother—at a strife? What is your quarrel? How began it first?
EDWARD	No quarrel, but a slight contention.
YORK	About what?
RICHARD	About that which concerns your grace and us— The crown of England, father, which is yours.
YORK	Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead.
RICHARD	Your right depends not on his life or death.
EDWARD	Now you are heir—therefore enjoy it now. By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end.
YORK	I took an oath that he should quietly reign.
EDWARD	But for a kingdom any oath may be broken. I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
RICHARD	(to York) No—God forbid your grace should be forsworn.
YORK	I shall be if I claim by open war.
RICHARD	I’ll prove the contrary, if you’ll hear me speak.
YORK	Thou canst not, son—it is impossible.
RICHARD	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 ’twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore to arms—and, father, do but think How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
(didascalia)	Within whose circuit is Elysium
RICHARD	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 luke-warm blood of Henry’s heart.
YORK	Richard, enough! I will be king or die. (To Montague) Brother, thou shalt to London presently And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk And tell him privily of our intent. You, Edward, shall to Edmund Brook, Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise. In them I trust, for they are soldiers Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit. While you are thus employed, what resteth more But that I seek occasion how to rise, And yet the King not privy to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
YORK	But stay, what news? Why com’st thou in such post?
MESSENGER	The Queen, with all the northern earls and lords, Intend here to besiege you in your castle. She is hard by with twenty thousand men, And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
YORK	Ay, with my sword. What—think’st thou that we fear them? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me; My brother Montague shall post to London. Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left protectors of the King, With powerful policy strengthen themselves, And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
MONTAGUE	Brother, I go—I’ll win them, fear it not. And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exit
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Mortimer and his brother Sir Hugh
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 the field.
YORK	What, with five thousand men?
RICHARD	Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman’s general—what should we fear? A march sounds afar off
EDWARD	I hear their drums. Let’s set our men in order, And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
(didascalia)	YORK to Sir John and Sir Hugh
EDWARD	Five men to twenty—though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncles, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one— Why should I not now have the like success? Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Riccardo, Edoardo conte di March, e il marchese di Montague
RICCARDO	Fratello, benché sia il più giovane, lasciate parlare me.
EDOARDO	No, io saprò meglio fare l’oratore.
MONTAGUE	Ma io ho ragioni forti e cogenti.
(didascalia)	Entra il duca di York
YORK	Ebbene, che c’è, figli e fratello—in contesa? Qual è la vostra lite? Come è cominciata?
EDOARDO	Nessuna lite, ma una piccola disputa.
YORK	Intorno a che?
RICCARDO	Intorno a ciò che riguarda vostra grazia e noi— la corona d’Inghilterra, padre, che è vostra.
YORK	Mia, ragazzo? Non prima che re Enrico sia morto.
RICCARDO	Il vostro diritto non dipende dalla sua vita o morte.
EDOARDO	Ora voi siete l’erede—perciò godetene ora. Se lasciate alla casa di Lancaster il tempo di respirare, alla fine essa vi sopravanzerà, padre.
YORK	Ho prestato giuramento che egli regnasse in pace.
EDOARDO	Ma per un regno ogni giuramento può esser rotto. Io romperei mille giuramenti per regnare un anno.
RICCARDO	(a York) No—Dio non voglia che vostra grazia sia spergiura.
YORK	Lo sarò se reclamerò con guerra aperta.
RICCARDO	Proverò il contrario, se volete udirmi parlare.
YORK	Non puoi, figlio—è impossibile.
RICCARDO	Un giuramento non ha valore se non è prestato davanti a un magistrato vero e legittimo che abbia autorità su colui che giura. Enrico non ne aveva alcuna, ma usurpò il posto. Dunque, poiché fu lui a farvi deporre, il vostro giuramento, mio signore, è vano e frivolo. Perciò alle armi—e, padre, pensate soltanto quanto dolce cosa sia portare una corona,
(didascalia)	dentro il cui cerchio è l’Eliso
RICCARDO	e tutto ciò che i poeti fingono di beatitudine e gioia. Perché indugiamo così? Non posso riposare finché la bianca rosa che porto non sia tinta nel tepido sangue del cuore di Enrico.
YORK	Riccardo, basta! Sarò re o morirò. (A Montague) Fratello, andrai subito a Londra e aizzerai Warwick a questa impresa. Tu, Riccardo, andrai dal duca di Norfolk e gli dirai in segreto il nostro intento. Voi, Edoardo, andrete da Edmondo Brook, lord Cobham, col quale gli uomini del Kent si solleveranno volentieri. In loro confido, perché sono soldati arguti, cortesi, generosi, pieni d’ardore. Mentre voi siete così impiegati, che resta più se non che io cerchi l’occasione di sollevarmi, e tuttavia il re non sappia nulla del mio disegno, né alcuno della casa di Lancaster.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messo
YORK	Ma ferma, che nuove? Perché vieni in tanta fretta?
MESSO	La regina, con tutti i conti e i signori del nord, intende assediarvi qui nel vostro castello. Ella è vicinissima con ventimila uomini, e perciò fortificate la vostra rocca, mio signore.
YORK	Sì, con la mia spada. Che—credi tu che li temiamo? Edoardo e Riccardo, voi resterete con me; mio fratello Montague correrà a Londra. Il nobile Warwick, Cobham e gli altri, che abbiamo lasciato protettori del re, si rafforzino con avveduta politica, e non si fidino del semplice Enrico né dei suoi giuramenti.
MONTAGUE	Fratello, vado—li conquisterò, non temete. E così umilissimamente mi congedo. Esce
(didascalia)	Entrano sir John Mortimer e suo fratello sir Hugh
YORK	Sir John e sir Hugh Mortimer, miei zii, siete giunti a Sandal in un’ora felice. L’esercito della regina intende assediarci.
SIR JOHN	Non le occorrerà, l’incontreremo sul campo.
YORK	Che, con cinquemila uomini?
RICCARDO	Sì, con cinquecento, padre, al bisogno. Una donna è il generale—che dovremmo temere? Si ode una marcia in lontananza
EDOARDO	Odo i loro tamburi. Mettiamo in ordine i nostri uomini, e usciamo e offriamo loro battaglia subito.
(didascalia)	YORK a sir John e sir Hugh
EDOARDO	Cinque uomini contro venti—benché la disparità sia grande, non dubito, zii, della nostra vittoria. Molte battaglie ho vinto in Francia quando il nemico era dieci a uno— perché non dovrei avere ora il medesimo successo? Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums, and then enter the young Earl of Rutland and his Tutor, a chaplain
RUTLAND	Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands?
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Clifford with soldiers
RUTLAND	Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes.
CLIFFORD	(to the Tutor) Chaplain, away—thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Whose father slew my father—he shall die.
TUTOR	And I, my lord, will bear him company.
CLIFFORD	Soldiers, away with him.
TUTOR	Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
(didascalia)	Rutland falls to the ground
CLIFFORD	How now—is he dead already? Or is it fear that makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them.
(didascalia)	RUTLAND reviving
CLIFFORD	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 Clifford, hear me speak before I die. I am too mean a subject for thy wrath. Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
CLIFFORD	In vain thou speak’st, poor boy. My father’s blood Hath stopped the passage where thy words should enter.
RUTLAND	Then let my father’s blood open it again. He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
CLIFFORD	Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me. No—if I digged up thy forefathers’ graves, And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of 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—
RUTLAND	O, let me pray before I take my death.
(didascalia)	Kneeling To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me.
CLIFFORD	Such pity as my rapier’s point affords.
RUTLAND	I never did thee harm—why wilt thou slay me?
CLIFFORD	Thy father hath.
RUTLAND	But ’twas ere I was born. Thou hast one son—for his sake pity me, Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, He be as miserably slain as I. Ah, let me live in prison all my days, And when I give occasion of offence, Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
CLIFFORD	No cause? Thy father slew my father, therefore die. He stabs him
RUTLAND	Dii faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae. He dies
CLIFFORD	Plantagenet—I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son’s blood cleaving to my blade Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood, Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both.
(didascalia)	Exit with Rutland’s body and soldiers

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli d’allarme, poi entrano il giovane conte di Rutland e il suo Precettore, un cappellano
RUTLAND	Ah, dove fuggirò per scampare alle loro mani?
(didascalia)	Entra lord Clifford con soldati
RUTLAND	Ah, precettore, guardate dove viene il sanguinario Clifford.
CLIFFORD	(al Precettore) Cappellano, via—il tuo sacerdozio ti salva la vita. Quanto al marmocchio di questo duca maledetto, il cui padre uccise mio padre—egli morrà.
PRECETTORE	E io, mio signore, gli farò compagnia.
CLIFFORD	Soldati, portatelo via.
PRECETTORE	Ah, Clifford, non assassinare questo innocente fanciullo per non essere odiato da Dio e dagli uomini.
(didascalia)	Esce, sotto scorta
(didascalia)	Rutland cade a terra
CLIFFORD	Ebbene—è già morto? O è la paura che gli fa chiudere gli occhi? Glieli aprirò io.
(didascalia)	RUTLAND rinvenendo
CLIFFORD	Così guarda il leone rinchiuso il miserabile che trema sotto le sue zampe divoratrici, e così egli cammina, insultando la sua preda, e così viene a lacerarne le membra. Ah, gentile Clifford, uccidimi con la tua spada e non con un tale sguardo di crudele minaccia. Dolce Clifford, ascoltami parlare prima ch’io muoia. Sono soggetto troppo meschino per la tua ira. Vèndicati sugli uomini, e lascia che io viva.
CLIFFORD	Invano parli, povero ragazzo. Il sangue di mio padre ha chiuso il passaggio dove le tue parole dovrebbero entrare.
RUTLAND	Allora lo riapra il sangue di mio padre. Egli è un uomo, e, Clifford, misùrati con lui.
CLIFFORD	Avessi qui i tuoi fratelli, le loro vite e la tua non sarebbero vendetta bastante per me. No—se dissotterrassi le tombe dei tuoi antenati, e appendessi in catene le loro bare marcite, non potrei spegnere la mia collera né alleviare il mio cuore. La vista di chiunque della casa di York è come una furia che tormenta la mia anima. E finché non sradichi la loro stirpe maledetta, e non ne lasci uno vivo, io vivo nell’inferno. Perciò—
RUTLAND	Oh, lasciami pregare prima di ricevere la mia morte.
(didascalia)	Inginocchiandosi A te prego: dolce Clifford, abbi pietà di me.
CLIFFORD	Tale pietà quale offre la punta del mio stocco.
RUTLAND	Non t’ho mai fatto male—perché vuoi uccidermi?
CLIFFORD	Tuo padre l’ha fatto.
RUTLAND	Ma fu prima ch’io nascessi. Tu hai un figlio—per amor suo abbi pietà di me, perché in vendetta di ciò, poiché Dio è giusto, egli non sia ucciso miseramente come me. Ah, lasciami vivere in prigione tutti i miei giorni, e quando darò motivo d’offesa, allora lasciami morire, perché ora non ne hai ragione.
CLIFFORD	Nessuna ragione? Tuo padre uccise mio padre, perciò muori. Lo pugnala
RUTLAND	Dii faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae. Muore
CLIFFORD	Plantageneto—io vengo, Plantageneto! E questo sangue di tuo figlio aderente alla mia lama si arruggínirà sulla mia arma finché il tuo sangue, rappreso con questo, non mi faccia tergere entrambi.
(didascalia)	Esce col corpo di Rutland e i soldati

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter Richard Duke of York YORK
(didascalia)	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 bechancèd them. But this I know—they have demeaned themselves Like men born to renown by life or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me, And thrice cried, ‘Courage, father, fight it out!’ And full as oft came Edward to my side, With purple falchion painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encountered him. And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried, ‘Charge and give no foot of ground!’ And cried ‘A crown or else a glorious tomb! A sceptre or an earthly sepulchre!’ With this, we charged again—but out, alas— We bodged again, as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide And spend her strength with over-matching waves. A short alarum within Ah, hark—the fatal followers do pursue, And I am faint and cannot fly their fury; And were I strong, I would not shun their fury. The sands are numbered that makes up my life. Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of
(didascalia)	Northumberland, and the young Prince Edward, with soldiers Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland— I dare your quenchless fury to more rage! I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
CLIFFORD	Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, With downright payment, showed unto my father. Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide prick.
YORK	My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all, And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate’er you can afflict me with. Why come you not? What—multitudes, and fear?
CLIFFORD	So cowards fight when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the 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 o’errun my former time, And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this.
CLIFFORD	I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckle with thee blows twice two for one.
(didascalia)	He draws his sword
QUEEN MARGARET	Hold, valiant Clifford: for a thousand causes I would prolong a while the traitor’s life. Wrath makes him deaf—speak thou, Northumberland.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Hold, Clifford—do not honour him so much To prick thy finger though to wound his heart. What valour were it when a cur doth grin For one to thrust his hand between his teeth When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is war’s prize to take all vantages, And ten to one is no impeach of valour.
(didascalia)	They fight and take York
CLIFFORD	Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
NORTHUMBERLAND	So doth the cony struggle in the net.
YORK	So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty, So true men yield, with robbers so o’ermatched.
NORTHUMBERLAND	(to the Queen) What would your grace have done unto him now?
QUEEN MARGARET	Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him stand upon this molehill here, That wrought at mountains with outstretched arms Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. (To York) What—was it you that would be England’s king? Was’t you that revelled in our Parliament, And made a preachment of your high descent? Where are your mess of sons to back you now? The wanton Edward and the lusty George? And where’s that valiant crookback prodigy, Dickie, your boy, that with his grumbling voice Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or with the rest where is your darling Rutland? Look, York, I stained this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapier’s point Made issue from the bosom of thy boy. And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly I should lament thy miserable state. I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York. What—hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death? 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. (To her men) A crown for York, and, lords, bow low to him. Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on. She puts a paper crown on York’s 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 crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath? As I bethink me, you should not be king Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. And will you pale your head in Henry’s glory, And rob his temples of the diadem Now, in his life, against your holy oath? O ’tis a fault too, too, unpardonable. Off with the crown,
(didascalia)	She knocks it from his head
QUEEN MARGARET	and with the crown his head, And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.
CLIFFORD	That is my office for my father’s sake.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, stay—let’s hear the orisons he makes.
YORK	She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves 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 visor-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would essay, proud Queen, to make thee blush. To tell thee whence thou cam’st, of whom derived, Were shame enough to shame thee—wert thou not shameless. Thy father bears the type of King of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem— Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud Queen, Unless the adage must be verified That beggars mounted run their horse to death. ’Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud— But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small; ‘Tis virtue that doth make them most admired— The contrary doth make thee wondered at; ’Tis government that makes them seem divine— The want thereof makes thee abominable. Thou art as opposite to every good As the antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion. O tiger’s heart wrapped 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 flexible— Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Bidd‘st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish. Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will. For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And when the rage allays the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland’s obsequies, And every drop cries vengeance for his death ’Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.
NORTHUMBERLAND	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 touched, would not have stained with blood— But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O, ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless Queen, a hapless father’s tears. This cloth thou dipped‘st in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin and go boast of this, And if thou tell’st the heavy story right, Upon my soul the hearers will shed tears, Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears And say, ‘Alas, it was a piteous deed’. There, take the crown—and with the crown, my curse: And in thy need such comfort come to thee As now I reap at thy too cruel hand. Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world. My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, I should not, for my life, but weep with him, To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.
QUEEN MARGARET	What—weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.
CLIFFORD	Here’s for my oath, here’s for my father’s death. He stabs York
QUEEN MARGARET	And here’s to right our gentle-hearted King. She stabs York
YORK	Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God— My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
(didascalia)	He dies
QUEEN MARGARET	Off with his head and set it on York gates, So York may overlook the town of York.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt with York’s body

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme. Entra Riccardo duca di York YORK
(didascalia)	L’esercito della regina ha vinto il campo; i miei due zii sono uccisi per soccorrermi; e tutti i miei seguaci, davanti al nemico avido, volgono le spalle e fuggono come navi davanti al vento, o come agnelli inseguiti da lupi affamati. I miei figli—Dio sa che cosa sia loro accaduto. Ma questo so—si sono comportati come uomini nati alla fama per la vita o per la morte. Tre volte Riccardo s’aprì un varco fino a me, e tre volte gridò: ‘Coraggio, padre, battiti fino in fondo!’ e altrettanto spesso venne Edoardo al mio fianco, con la scimitarra purpurea dipinta fino all’elsa del sangue di quelli che l’avevano affrontato. E quando i più intrepidi guerrieri si ritiravano, Riccardo gridava: ‘Caricate e non cedete un piede di terra!’ e gridava: ‘Una corona o una tomba gloriosa! Uno scettro o un sepolcro terreno!’ Con questo caricammo di nuovo—ma ahimè— di nuovo fallimmo, come ho visto un cigno con vana fatica nuotare contro la corrente e consumare la sua forza contro onde soverchianti. Breve squillo d’allarme dall’interno Ah, udite—gli inseguitori fatali sono alle calcagna, e io sono sfinito e non posso fuggire la loro furia; e fossi forte, non sfuggirei alla loro furia. Sono contati i granelli che compongono la mia vita. Qui devo restare, e qui la mia vita deve finire.
(didascalia)	Entrano la regina Margherita, lord Clifford, il conte di
(didascalia)	Northumberland, e il giovane principe Edoardo, con soldati Vieni, sanguinario Clifford, rude Northumberland— sfido la vostra furia inestinguibile a maggior rabbia! Io sono il vostro bersaglio, e attendo il vostro tiro.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Arrenditi alla nostra clemenza, superbo Plantageneto.
CLIFFORD	Sì, a tale clemenza quale il suo braccio spietato, con pagamento sonante, mostrò a mio padre. Ora Fetonte è precipitato dal suo carro, e ha fatto sera nel punto del meriggio.
YORK	Le mie ceneri, come la fenice, possono generare un uccello che si vendicherà di voi tutti, e in quella speranza volgo gli occhi al cielo, sprezzando quanto potete infliggermi. Perché non venite? Che—moltitudini, e paura?
CLIFFORD	Così combattono i codardi quando non possono più fuggire; così le colombe beccano i penetranti artigli del falcone; così ladri disperati, senza più speranza di vita, esalano invettive contro gli ufficiali.
YORK	O Clifford, ma ripensaci una volta ancora, e col pensiero ripercorri il mio tempo passato, e, se il rossore te lo consente, guarda questo volto e mordi la tua lingua, che accusa di codardia colui il cui cipiglio già ti fece venir meno e fuggire.
CLIFFORD	Non scambierò con te parola per parola, ma m’azzufferò con te a colpi, quattro per uno.
(didascalia)	Sguaina la spada
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ferma, valoroso Clifford: per mille ragioni vorrei prolungare un poco la vita del traditore. L’ira lo fa sordo—parla tu, Northumberland.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Ferma, Clifford—non onorarlo tanto da pungerti un dito pur per ferirgli il cuore. Che valore sarebbe, quando un cane ringhia, cacciargli la mano fra i denti, quando lo si potrebbe scostare con un piede? È il premio della guerra prendere ogni vantaggio, e dieci contro uno non è accusa al valore.
(didascalia)	Combattono e catturano York
CLIFFORD	Sì, sì, così si dibatte la beccaccia nel laccio.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Così il coniglio lotta nella rete.
YORK	Così trionfano i ladri sulla preda conquistata, così cedono gli onesti, così soverchiati dai briganti.
NORTHUMBERLAND	(alla regina) Che avrebbe voluto farne vostra grazia, ora?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Bravi guerrieri, Clifford e Northumberland, venite, fatelo stare su questo monticello, lui che aspirava alle montagne con braccia tese e con la mano divise soltanto l’ombra. (A York) Che—eravate voi che volevate essere il re d’Inghilterra? Eravate voi che gozzovigliavate nel nostro Parlamento, e facevate una predica della vostra alta discendenza? Dov’è la vostra nidiata di figli a sostenervi ora? Il lascivo Edoardo e il gagliardo Giorgio? E dov’è quel valoroso prodigio gobbo, Richetto, il vostro ragazzo, che con la sua voce brontolona soleva rincuorare il babbo nelle risse? O con gli altri, dov’è il vostro caro Rutland? Guarda, York, ho macchiato questo panno col sangue che il valoroso Clifford con la punta del suo stocco fece sgorgare dal petto del tuo ragazzo. E se i tuoi occhi possono lacrimare per la sua morte, ti dono questo per asciugarti le guance. Ahimè, povero York, se non ti odiassi a morte compiangerei il tuo miserabile stato. Ti prego, affliggiti, per rallegrarmi, York. Che—il tuo cuore infuocato ti ha così inaridito le viscere che non una lacrima può cadere per la morte di Rutland? Perché sei paziente, uomo? Dovresti impazzire, e io, per farti impazzire, ti scherno così. Pesta i piedi, delira e smania, ch’io possa cantare e danzare. Vuoi essere pagato, vedo, per darmi spasso. York non può parlare se non porta una corona. (Ai suoi uomini) Una corona per York, e, signori, inchinatevi profondamente a lui. Tenetegli le mani mentre io gliela pongo. Pone una corona di carta sul capo di York Sì, davvero, signore, ora sembra un re, sì, questo è colui che prese il trono di re Enrico, e questo è colui che fu il suo erede adottivo. Ma com’è che il grande Plantageneto è incoronato così presto e ha rotto il suo solenne giuramento? Se ben ricordo, non dovevate esser re finché il nostro re Enrico non avesse stretto la mano alla morte. E volete cingere il capo nella gloria di Enrico, e derubare le sue tempie del diadema ora, in vita sua, contro il vostro santo giuramento? Oh, è una colpa troppo, troppo imperdonabile. Via la corona,
(didascalia)	Gliela fa cadere dal capo
REGINA MARGHERITA	e con la corona la sua testa, e mentre respiriamo, prendiamoci il tempo di farlo morire.
CLIFFORD	Questo è il mio ufficio, per amor di mio padre.
REGINA MARGHERITA	No, aspetta—udiamo le preghiere che fa.
YORK	Lupa di Francia, ma peggiore dei lupi di Francia, la cui lingua avvelena più del dente della vipera— quanto è indecoroso nel tuo sesso trionfare come una sgualdrina amazzone sui dolori di coloro che la fortuna fa prigionieri! Se il tuo volto non fosse come una visiera, immutabile, reso impudente dall’uso di malvage azioni, io tenterei, superba regina, di farti arrossire. Dirti d’onde venisti, da chi derivi, sarebbe vergogna bastante a svergognarti—se tu non fossi senza vergogna. Tuo padre porta il titolo di re di Napoli, delle due Sicilie e di Gerusalemme— eppure non è ricco quanto un fittavolo inglese. T’ha insegnato a insultare quel povero monarca? Non serve, né ti giova, superba regina, se non perché si verifichi l’adagio che i mendicanti a cavallo spingono il cavallo a morte. È la bellezza che spesso rende superbe le donne— ma, Dio sa, la tua parte è piccola; è la virtù che le rende più ammirate— il contrario fa che di te si stupiscano; è il contegno che le fa parer divine— la sua mancanza ti rende abominevole. Sei tanto opposta a ogni bene quanto gli antipodi sono a noi, o quanto il sud al settentrione. O cuore di tigre avvolto in pelle di donna! Come hai potuto spillare il sangue vitale del fanciullo per invitare il padre ad asciugarsi con esso gli occhi, e ancora mostrarti col volto di donna? Le donne sono tenere, miti, pietose e flessibili— tu severa, ostinata, di selce, rude, senza rimorso. Mi chiedi d’infuriare? Ecco, ora hai il tuo desiderio. Vorresti farmi piangere? Ecco, ora hai la tua volontà. Ché il vento furioso solleva rovesci incessanti, e quando la furia si placa comincia la pioggia. Queste lacrime sono le esequie del mio dolce Rutland, e ogni goccia grida vendetta per la sua morte contro te, feroce Clifford, e te, falsa Francese.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Maledetto me, ma le sue passioni mi commuovono tanto che a stento trattengo i miei occhi dalle lacrime.
YORK	Quel suo volto i cannibali affamati non avrebbero toccato, non avrebbero macchiato di sangue— ma voi siete più inumani, più inesorabili, oh, dieci volte più delle tigri d’Ircania. Vedi, spietata regina, le lacrime d’un padre sventurato. Questo panno tu l’immergesti nel sangue del mio dolce ragazzo, e io con le lacrime ne lavo via il sangue. Tieni tu il panno e va’ a vantartene, e se racconterai bene la pesante storia, sulla mia anima, chi t’ascolta verserà lacrime, sì, anche i miei nemici verseranno lacrime a dirotto e diranno: ‘Ahimè, fu un atto pietoso’. Ecco, prendi la corona—e con la corona, la mia maledizione: e nel tuo bisogno ti venga tale conforto quale ora io raccolgo dalla tua troppo crudele mano. Clifford dal cuore duro, tòglimi dal mondo. La mia anima al cielo, il mio sangue sulle vostre teste.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Fosse stato il carnefice di tutti i miei congiunti, non potrei, per la mia vita, non piangere con lui, a vedere come il dolore gli stringe dentro l’anima.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Che—pronto al pianto, mio lord Northumberland? Pensa soltanto al torto che fece a tutti noi, e questo asciugherà presto le tue tenere lacrime.
CLIFFORD	Questo per il mio giuramento, questo per la morte di mio padre. Pugnala York
REGINA MARGHERITA	E questo per far giustizia al nostro re dal cuore gentile. Pugnala York
YORK	Apri la tua porta di misericordia, Dio clemente— la mia anima vola per queste ferite a cercarti.
(didascalia)	Muore
REGINA MARGHERITA	Tagliategli la testa e ponetela sulle porte di York, così York potrà sovrastare la città di York.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Escono col corpo di York

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A march. Enter Edward Earl of March and Richard, with a drummer and soldiers
EDWARD	I wonder how our princely father scaped, Or whether he be scaped 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 scaped, methinks we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape. How fares my brother? Why is he so sad?
RICHARD	I cannot joy until I be resolved Where-our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about, And watched him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a lion in a herd of neat; Or as a bear encompassed round with dogs, Who having pinched a few and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof and bark at him. So fared our father with his enemies; So fled his enemies my warlike father. Methinks ’tis prize enough to be his son.
(didascalia)	Three suns appear in the air
RICHARD	See how the morning opes her golden gates And takes her farewell of the glorious sun. How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimmed like a younker prancing to his love!
EDWARD	Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?
RICHARD	Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun; Not separated with the racking clouds, But severed in a pale clear-shining sky.
(didascalia)	The three suns begin to join
RICHARD	See, see—they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vowed some league inviolable. Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. In this the heaven figures some event.
EDWARD	’Tis 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 meeds, Should notwithstanding join our lights together And over-shine the earth as this the world. Whate’er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Upon my target three fair-shining suns.
RICHARD	Nay, bear three daughters—by your leave I speak it— You love the breeder better than the male.
(didascalia)	Enter one blowing
RICHARD	But what art thou whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
MESSENGER	Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on Whenas the noble Duke of York was slain— Your princely father and my loving lord.
EDWARD	O, speak no more, for I have heard too much.
RICHARD	Say how he died, for I will hear it all.
MESSENGER	Environèd he was with many foes, And stood against them as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have entered Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hews down and fells the hardest-timbered oak. By many hands your father was subdued, But only slaughtered by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen, Who crowned the gracious Duke in high despite, Laughed in his face, and when with grief he wept, The ruthless Queen gave him to dry his cheeks A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain; And after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e’er I viewed.
EDWARD	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 vanquished 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.
RICHARD	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 burden, For selfsame wind that I should speak withal Is kindling coals that fires all my breast, And burns 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’ll venge thy death Or die renowned by attempting it.
EDWARD	His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee, His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
RICHARD	Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird, Show thy descent by gazing ‘gainst the sun: For ‘chair and dukedom’, ‘throne and kingdom’ say— Either that is thine or else thou wert not his.
(didascalia)	March. Enter the Earl of Warwick and the Marquis of Montague with drummers, an ensign, and soldiers
WARWICK	How now, fair lords? What fare? What news abroad?
RICHARD	Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and at each word’s deliverance Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain.
EDWARD	O Warwick, Warwick! That Plantagenet, Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption, Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
WARWICK	Ten days ago I drowned these news in tears. And now, to add more measure to your woes, I come to tell you things sith then befall’n. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss and his depart. I then in London, keeper of the King, Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends, And, very well appointed as I thought, Marched toward Saint Albans to intercept the Queen, Bearing the King in my behalf along— For by my 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 Saint Albans met, Our battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought; But whether ‘twas the coldness of the King, Who looked full gently on his warlike queen, That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen, Or whether ’twas report of her success, Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigour— Who thunders to his captains 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 an idle thresher with a flail, Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. I cheered 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.
EDWARD	Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England?
WARWICK	Some six miles off the Duke is with his soldiers; And for your brother—he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
RICHARD	‘Twas odd belike when valiant Warwick fled. Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne’er till now his scandal of retire.
WARWICK	Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear— For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head And wring the aweful sceptre from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
RICHARD	I know it well, Lord Warwick—blame me not. ‘Tis love I bear thy glories make 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, Numb’ring 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.
WARWICK	Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out, And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting Queen, With Clifford and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting King like wax. (To Edward) 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, And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry ‘Charge upon. our foes— But never once again turn back and fly.
RICHARD	Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak. Ne‘er may he live to see a sunshine day That cries ‘retire if Warwick bid him stay.
EDWARD	Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean, And when thou fail’st—as God forbid the hour— Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend I
WARWICK	No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York; The next degree is England’s royal throne— For King of England shalt thou be 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.
RICHARD	Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds, I come to pierce it or to give thee mine.
EDWARD	Then strike up drums—God and Saint George for us!
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
WARWICK	How now? What news?
MESSENGER	The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me The Queen is coming with a puissant host, And craves your company for speedy counsel.
WARWICK	Why then it sorts. Brave warriors, let’s away.
(didascalia)	March. Exeunt
(didascalia)	2.2 York’s head is thrust out, above Flourish. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of Northumberland, and young Prince Edward, with a drummer and trumpeters
QUEEN MARGARET	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?
KING HENRY	Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck. To see this sight, it irks my very soul. Withhold revenge, dear God—’tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
CLIFFORD	My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting? Not 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 thy crown, Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows. He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue like a loving sire; Thou, being a king, blest 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 climbed unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young’s defence? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault, And long hereafter say unto his child ‘What my great-grandfather and grandsire got My careless father fondly gave away’? 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.
KING HENRY	Full well hath Clifford played the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me—didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind, And would my father had left me no more. For all the rest is held at such a rate As brings a thousandfold more care to keep Than in possession any jot of pleasure. Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head is here.
QUEEN MARGARET	My lord, cheer up your spirits—our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promised knighthood to our forward son. Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down. Prince Edward kneels
KING HENRY	Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight— And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right.
PRINCE EDWARD	(rising) My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I’ll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death.
CLIFFORD	Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Royal commanders, be in readiness— For with a band of thirty thousand men Comes Warwick backing of the Duke of York; And in the towns, as they do march along, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him. Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) I would your highness would depart the field— The Queen hath best success when you are absent.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to King Henry) Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.
KING HENRY	Why, that’s my fortune too—therefore I’ll stay.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Be it with resolution then to fight.
PRINCE EDWARD	(to King Henry) My royal father, cheer these noble lords And hearten those that fight in your defence. Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry ‘Saint George!’ March. Enter Edward Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, Richard, George, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis of Montague, and soldiers
EDWARD	Now, perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head— Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
QUEEN MARGARET	Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
EDWARD	I am his king, and he should bow his knee. I was adopted heir by his consent.
GEORGE	(to Queen Margaret) Since when his oath is broke—for, as I hear, You that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caused him by new act of Parliament To blot our brother out, and put his own son in.
CLIFFORD	And reason too— Who should succeed the father but the son?
RICHARD	Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!
CLIFFORD	Ay, crookback, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
RICHARD	’Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not?
CLIFFORD	Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
RICHARD	For God’s sake, lords, give signal to the fight.
WARWICK	What sayst thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?
QUEEN MARGARET	Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick, dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands.
WARWICK	Then ‘twas my turn to fly—and now ‘tis thine.
CLIFFORD	You said so much before, and yet you fled.
WARWICK	’Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
NORTHUMBERLAND	No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.
RICHARD	Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoll’n heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
CLIFFORD	I slew thy father—call’st thou him a child?
RICHARD	Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland. But ere sun set I’ll make thee curse the deed.
KING HENRY	Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET	Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.
KING HENRY	I prithee give no limits to my tongue— I am a king, and privileged to speak.
CLIFFORD	My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cured by words—therefore be still.
RICHARD	Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword. By him that made us all, I am resolved That Clifford’s manhood lies upon his tongue.
EDWARD	Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts today That ne’er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.
WARWICK	(to King Henry) If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; For York in justice puts his armour on.
PRINCE EDWARD	If that be right which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but everything is right.
RICHARD	Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands— For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother’s tongue.
QUEEN MARGARET	But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam, But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, Marked by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads or lizards’ dreadful stings.
RICHARD	Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king— As if a channel should be called the sea— Sham’st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?
EDWARD	A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns To make this shameless callet know herself. Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne’er was Agamemnon’s brother wronged By that false woman, as this king by thee. His father revelled in the heart of France, And tamed the King, and made the Dauphin stoop; And had he matched according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day. But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day, Even then that sunshine brewed a shower for him That washed his father’s fortunes forth of France, And heaped sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broached this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept, And we, in pity of the gentle King, Had slipped our claim until another age.
GEORGE	(to Queen Margaret) But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root. And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, We’ll never leave till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.
EDWARD	(to Queen Margaret) And in this resolution I defy thee, Not willing any longer conference Since thou deniest the gentle King to speak.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets—let our bloody colours wave!
EDWARD	And either victory, or else a grave!
QUEEN MARGARET	Stay, Edward.
EDWARD	No, wrangling woman, we’ll no longer stay— These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
(didascalia)	Flourish. March. Exeunt Edward and his men at one door and Queen Margaret and her men at another door

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Una marcia. Entrano Edoardo conte di March e Riccardo, con un tamburino e soldati
EDOARDO	Mi domando come sia scampato il nostro principesco padre, o se sia scampato o no all’inseguimento di Clifford e di Northumberland. Fosse stato preso, ne avremmo udito la nuova; fosse stato ucciso, ne avremmo udito la nuova; o fosse scampato, mi pare che avremmo udito la felice notizia della sua buona fuga. Come sta mio fratello? Perché è così triste?
RICCARDO	Non posso gioire finché non sia certo di che cosa sia avvenuto del nostro assai valoroso padre. Lo vidi aggirarsi nella battaglia, e osservai come sceglieva Clifford a bersaglio. Mi parve che si portasse nella schiera più densa come fa un leone in un armento di bovi; o come un orso circondato dai cani, che, azzannatine alcuni e fattili urlare, gli altri stanno tutti in disparte e gli abbaiano. Così fece nostro padre coi suoi nemici; così i suoi nemici fuggirono il mio bellicoso padre. Mi pare che sia premio bastante essere suo figlio.
(didascalia)	Tre soli appaiono nel cielo
RICCARDO	Guarda come il mattino apre le sue porte d’oro e prende congedo dal sole glorioso. Quanto bene somiglia al fiore della giovinezza, agghindato come un damerino che caracolla verso il suo amore!
EDOARDO	M’ingannano gli occhi, o vedo tre soli?
RICCARDO	Tre soli gloriosi, ognuno un sole perfetto; non divisi da nubi in corsa, ma distinti in un cielo pallido e lucente.
(didascalia)	I tre soli cominciano a congiungersi
RICCARDO	Guarda, guarda—si uniscono, s’abbracciano, e sembrano baciarsi, come se giurassero una lega inviolabile. Ora non sono che una lampada, una luce, un sole. In questo il cielo prefigura qualche evento.
EDOARDO	È mirabilmente strano, mai s’udì il simile. Credo, fratello, che ci chiami al campo, perché noi, figli del bravo Plantageneto, ciascuno già fiammeggiante per i propri meriti, dobbiamo nondimeno unire insieme le nostre luci e sovrailluminare la terra come questi il mondo. Qualunque cosa presagisca, d’ora in poi porterò sul mio scudo tre soli splendenti.
RICCARDO	No, portane tre figlie—con vostra licenza lo dico— voi amate la femmina più del maschio.
(didascalia)	Entra uno ansimante
RICCARDO	Ma chi sei tu, il cui sguardo grave preannuncia qualche terribile storia sospesa alla tua lingua?
MESSO	Ah, uno che fu dolente spettatore quando il nobile duca di York fu ucciso— il vostro principesco padre e mio amato signore.
EDOARDO	Oh, non dire altro, ché ho udito troppo.
RICCARDO	Di’ come morì, ché voglio udire tutto.
MESSO	Era circondato da molti nemici, e resistette loro come la speranza di Troia contro i Greci che volevano entrare in Troia. Ma anche Ercole deve cedere al numero; e molti colpi, pur con una piccola scure, abbattono e atterrano la quercia dal legno più duro. Da molte mani vostro padre fu soggiogato, ma trucidato soltanto dal braccio irato dell’implacabile Clifford e della regina, i quali incoronarono il grazioso duca per estremo dispetto, gli risero in faccia, e quando egli pianse di dolore, la spietata regina gli diede, per asciugarsi le guance, un panno inzuppato nell’innocente sangue del dolce giovane Rutland, ucciso dal rude Clifford; e dopo molti scherni, molti turpi insulti, gli presero la testa, e sulle porte di York la posero; e là essa rimane, il più triste spettacolo che mai vidi.
EDOARDO	Dolce duca di York, nostro sostegno cui appoggiarci, ora che tu sei andato, non abbiamo bastone né appoggio. O Clifford, violento Clifford—tu hai ucciso il fiore d’Europa per cavalleria, e a tradimento l’hai vinto— ché a corpo a corpo egli avrebbe vinto te. Ora il palazzo della mia anima è divenuto una prigione. Ah, ch’ella ne prorompa, sì che questo mio corpo possa esser chiuso in riposo nella terra. Ché d’ora in poi non gioirò mai più— mai, oh mai, vedrò più gioia.
RICCARDO	Non posso piangere, ché tutto l’umore del mio corpo appena basta a spegnere il mio cuore ardente come fornace; né la mia lingua può scaricare il gran peso del cuore, ché quello stesso fiato con cui dovrei parlare attizza carboni che m’incendiano tutto il petto, e mi consuma con fiamme che le lacrime spegnerebbero. Piangere è render minore la profondità del dolore; lacrime, dunque, per i bambini—colpi e vendetta per me! Riccardo, porto il tuo nome; vendicherò la tua morte o morrò famoso nel tentarlo.
EDOARDO	Il suo nome quel valoroso duca l’ha lasciato a te, il suo ducato e il suo trono son lasciati a me.
RICCARDO	No, se tu sei il figlio di quell’aquila principesca, mostra la tua discendenza fissando il sole: invece di ‘trono e ducato’, di’ ‘trono e regno’— o quello è tuo, o tu non fosti suo.
(didascalia)	Marcia. Entrano il conte di Warwick e il marchese di Montague con tamburini, un alfiere e soldati
WARWICK	Ebbene, bei signori? Come va? Che nuove d’intorno?
RICCARDO	Gran signore di Warwick, se dovessimo narrare le nostre funeste nuove, e a ogni parola pronunciata affondarci pugnali nella carne fino a dir tutto, le parole aggiungerebbero più angoscia delle ferite. O valoroso signore, il duca di York è ucciso.
EDOARDO	O Warwick, Warwick! Quel Plantageneto, che ti teneva caro come la redenzione della sua anima, è stato messo a morte dal severo lord Clifford.
WARWICK	Dieci giorni fa annegai queste nuove nelle lacrime. E ora, per aggiungere più misura ai vostri dolori, vengo a dirvi cose accadute da allora. Dopo la sanguinosa mischia combattuta a Wakefield, dove il vostro bravo padre esalò l’ultimo respiro, notizie, rapide quanto i corrieri potevano correre, mi furon portate della vostra perdita e della sua dipartita. Io allora in Londra, custode del re, radunai i miei soldati, raccolsi stuoli d’amici, e, assai bene equipaggiato come credevo, marciai verso Saint Albans per intercettare la regina, portando con me il re a mio sostegno— ché dai miei esploratori fui avvertito ch’ella veniva col fermo intento d’annullare il nostro recente decreto in Parlamento circa il giuramento di re Enrico e la vostra successione. Per farla breve, ci incontrammo a Saint Albans, le nostre schiere si scontrarono, e ambo le parti combatterono ferocemente; ma se fu la freddezza del re, che guardava tutto mite la sua bellicosa regina, a privare i miei soldati del loro ardente furore, o se fu la fama del suo successo, o più che comune timore del rigore di Clifford— che tuona ai suoi capitani sangue e morte— non so giudicare; ma, per concludere con verità, le loro armi come folgore andavano e venivano; quelle dei nostri, come il volo pigro della civetta di notte, o come un trebbiatore infingardo col correggiato, calavano mollemente, come se colpissero amici. Li rincuorai con la giustizia della nostra causa, con promessa d’alta paga e grandi ricompense. Ma tutto invano. Non avevano cuore di combattere, e noi in loro nessuna speranza di vincere la giornata. Così fuggimmo—il re alla regina, e lord Giorgio vostro fratello, Norfolk e io stesso in fretta, a briglia sciolta, siamo venuti a unirci a voi. Ché udimmo che eravate qui nelle Marche, a raccogliere un’altra forza per combattere di nuovo.
EDOARDO	Dov’è il duca di Norfolk, gentile Warwick? E quando venne Giorgio dalla Borgogna in Inghilterra?
WARWICK	A circa sei miglia il duca è coi suoi soldati; e quanto a vostro fratello—fu inviato di recente dalla vostra buona zia, duchessa di Borgogna, con aiuto di soldati a questa necessaria guerra.
RICCARDO	Fu cosa strana, certo, quando il valoroso Warwick fuggì. Spesso ho udito le sue lodi nell’inseguire, ma mai finora il suo scandalo nel ritirarsi.
WARWICK	Né ora il mio scandalo, Riccardo, tu odi— ché saprai che questa mia forte destra può strappare il diadema dal capo del debole Enrico e torcergli dal pugno il temuto scettro, fosse egli tanto famoso e ardito in guerra quanto è rinomato per mitezza, pace e preghiera.
RICCARDO	Lo so bene, lord Warwick—non biasimarmi. È l’amore che porto alle tue glorie a farmi parlare. Ma in questo tempo turbolento che si deve fare? Andremo a gettar via le nostre corazze d’acciaio, e avvolgeremo i corpi in nere vesti di lutto, contando le nostre Avemarie coi rosari? O sugli elmi dei nostri nemici diremo la nostra devozione con armi vendicatrici? Se per l’ultimo, dite ‘sì’, e all’opera, signori.
WARWICK	Ebbene, per questo Warwick venne a cercarvi, e per questo viene mio fratello Montague. Ascoltatemi, signori. La superba insolente regina, con Clifford e l’altero Northumberland, e della loro penna molti altri superbi uccelli, hanno plasmato come cera il re facile a fondersi. (A Edoardo) Egli giurò consenso alla vostra successione, il suo giuramento registrato in Parlamento. E ora tutta la brigata è andata a Londra, per vanificare il suo giuramento e quant’altro possa far contro la casa di Lancaster. La loro forza, credo, è di trentamila uomini. Ora, se l’aiuto di Norfolk e mio, con tutti gli amici che tu, bravo conte di March, puoi procurarti tra gli affezionati Gallesi, ammonterà soltanto a venticinquemila, ebbene, via, a Londra marceremo, e monteremo di nuovo i nostri destrieri schiumanti, e di nuovo grideremo ‘Carica addosso ai nostri nemici— ma non volteremo mai più le spalle in fuga.
RICCARDO	Sì, ora mi pare d’udire parlare il grande Warwick. Mai possa vivere per vedere un giorno di sole chi grida ‘ritirata se Warwick gli ordina di restare.
EDOARDO	Lord Warwick, sulla tua spalla mi appoggerò, e quando tu verrai meno—Dio non voglia quell’ora— dovrà cadere Edoardo, e da tal pericolo il cielo ci guardi I
WARWICK	Non più conte di March, ma duca di York; il grado successivo è il regale trono d’Inghilterra— ché re d’Inghilterra sarai proclamato in ogni borgo lungo il nostro passaggio, e chi non getterà in aria il berretto per gioia pagherà la colpa con la testa. Re Edoardo, valoroso Riccardo, Montague— non indugiamo più a sognare la fama, ma suonino le trombe e all’opera.
RICCARDO	Allora, Clifford, fosse il tuo cuore duro come acciaio, come l’hai mostrato di selce con le tue azioni, vengo a trapassarlo o a darti il mio.
EDOARDO	Allora rullino i tamburi—Dio e san Giorgio per noi!
(didascalia)	Entra un Messo
WARWICK	Ebbene? Che nuove?
MESSO	Il duca di Norfolk vi manda a dire per me che la regina viene con un possente esercito, e chiede la vostra compagnia per rapido consiglio.
WARWICK	Ebbene, allora conviene. Bravi guerrieri, andiamo.
(didascalia)	Marcia. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	York’s head is thrust out, above Flourish. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of Northumberland, and young Prince Edward, with a drummer and trumpeters
QUEEN MARGARET	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?
KING HENRY	Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck. To see this sight, it irks my very soul. Withhold revenge, dear God—’tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
CLIFFORD	My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting? Not 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 thy crown, Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows. He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue like a loving sire; Thou, being a king, blest 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 climbed unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young’s defence? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault, And long hereafter say unto his child ‘What my great-grandfather and grandsire got My careless father fondly gave away’? 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.
KING HENRY	Full well hath Clifford played the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me—didst thou never hear That things ill got had ever bad success? And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind, And would my father had left me no more. For all the rest is held at such a rate As brings a thousandfold more care to keep Than in possession any jot of pleasure. Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head is here.
QUEEN MARGARET	My lord, cheer up your spirits—our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promised knighthood to our forward son. Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down. Prince Edward kneels
KING HENRY	Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight— And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right.
PRINCE EDWARD	(rising) My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I’ll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death.
CLIFFORD	Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Royal commanders, be in readiness— For with a band of thirty thousand men Comes Warwick backing of the Duke of York; And in the towns, as they do march along, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him. Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
CLIFFORD	(to King Henry) I would your highness would depart the field— The Queen hath best success when you are absent.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to King Henry) Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.
KING HENRY	Why, that’s my fortune too—therefore I’ll stay.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Be it with resolution then to fight.
PRINCE EDWARD	(to King Henry) My royal father, cheer these noble lords And hearten those that fight in your defence. Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry ‘Saint George!’ March. Enter Edward Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, Richard, George, the Duke of Norfolk, the Marquis of Montague, and soldiers
EDWARD	Now, perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head— Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
QUEEN MARGARET	Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
EDWARD	I am his king, and he should bow his knee. I was adopted heir by his consent.
GEORGE	(to Queen Margaret) Since when his oath is broke—for, as I hear, You that are king, though he do wear the crown, Have caused him by new act of Parliament To blot our brother out, and put his own son in.
CLIFFORD	And reason too— Who should succeed the father but the son?
RICHARD	Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!
CLIFFORD	Ay, crookback, here I stand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
RICHARD	’Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not?
CLIFFORD	Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.
RICHARD	For God’s sake, lords, give signal to the fight.
WARWICK	What sayst thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?
QUEEN MARGARET	Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick, dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands.
WARWICK	Then ‘twas my turn to fly—and now ‘tis thine.
CLIFFORD	You said so much before, and yet you fled.
WARWICK	’Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
NORTHUMBERLAND	No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.
RICHARD	Northumberland, I hold thee reverently. Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoll’n heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
CLIFFORD	I slew thy father—call’st thou him a child?
RICHARD	Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland. But ere sun set I’ll make thee curse the deed.
KING HENRY	Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET	Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.
KING HENRY	I prithee give no limits to my tongue— I am a king, and privileged to speak.
CLIFFORD	My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cured by words—therefore be still.
RICHARD	Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword. By him that made us all, I am resolved That Clifford’s manhood lies upon his tongue.
EDWARD	Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts today That ne’er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.
WARWICK	(to King Henry) If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; For York in justice puts his armour on.
PRINCE EDWARD	If that be right which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but everything is right.
RICHARD	Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands— For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother’s tongue.
QUEEN MARGARET	But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam, But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, Marked by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads or lizards’ dreadful stings.
RICHARD	Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king— As if a channel should be called the sea— Sham’st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?
EDWARD	A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns To make this shameless callet know herself. Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne’er was Agamemnon’s brother wronged By that false woman, as this king by thee. His father revelled in the heart of France, And tamed the King, and made the Dauphin stoop; And had he matched according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day. But when he took a beggar to his bed, And graced thy poor sire with his bridal day, Even then that sunshine brewed a shower for him That washed his father’s fortunes forth of France, And heaped sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broached this tumult but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept, And we, in pity of the gentle King, Had slipped our claim until another age.
GEORGE	(to Queen Margaret) But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root. And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike, We’ll never leave till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.
EDWARD	(to Queen Margaret) And in this resolution I defy thee, Not willing any longer conference Since thou deniest the gentle King to speak.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpets—let our bloody colours wave!
EDWARD	And either victory, or else a grave!
QUEEN MARGARET	Stay, Edward.
EDWARD	No, wrangling woman, we’ll no longer stay— These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
(didascalia)	Flourish. March. Exeunt Edward and his men at one door and Queen Margaret and her men at another door

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	La testa di York è esposta, in alto. Squilli. Entrano re Enrico, la regina Margherita, lord Clifford, il conte di Northumberland, e il giovane principe Edoardo, con un tamburino e trombettieri
REGINA MARGHERITA	Benvenuto, mio signore, in questa bella città di York. Là è la testa di quell’arcinemico che cercò di cingersi della vostra corona. Non vi rallegra il cuore quest’oggetto, mio signore?
RE ENRICO	Sì, come gli scogli rallegrano chi teme il naufragio. Vedere questa vista mi affligge l’anima stessa. Trattieni la vendetta, Dio caro—non è mia colpa, né consapevolmente ho infranto il mio voto.
CLIFFORD	Mio grazioso sire, questa troppa indulgenza e questa pietà nociva devono esser messe da parte. A chi volgono i leoni i loro sguardi miti? Non alla bestia che vorrebbe usurpare la loro tana. Quale mano lecca l’orsa della foresta? Non quella di chi le strazia i piccoli in faccia. Chi scampa al morso mortale del serpente in agguato? Non chi gli pone il piede sul dorso. Il più piccolo verme si rivolta, se calpestato, e le colombe beccano a difesa della loro nidiata. L’ambizioso York mirava alla tua corona, e tu sorridevi mentre egli aggrottava le ciglia irate. Egli, semplice duca, voleva suo figlio re, e innalzare la sua prole come padre amoroso; tu, essendo re, benedetto d’un bel figlio, hai dato consenso a diseredarlo, il che ti dimostrò padre senza alcun amore. Le creature senza ragione nutrono i loro piccoli, e sebbene il volto dell’uomo sia terribile ai loro occhi, tuttavia, a protezione dei loro teneri nati, chi non le ha vedute, con quelle stesse ali che talvolta usarono in fuga timorosa, far guerra a chi salì al loro nido, offrendo le proprie vite in difesa dei piccoli? Vergogna, mio sire, prendetele a esempio! Non sarebbe pietà che questo bel ragazzo perda il suo diritto di nascita per colpa del padre, e molto tempo dopo dica a suo figlio: ‘Ciò che il mio bisavolo e il mio avo conquistarono il mio padre negligente stoltamente donò’? Ah, quale vergogna sarebbe! Guardate il ragazzo, e che il suo volto virile, che promette fortuna felice, tempri il tuo cuore che si scioglie a tenere il tuo e a lasciare a lui il tuo.
RE ENRICO	Assai bene ha fatto Clifford l’oratore, recando argomenti di gran forza. Ma, Clifford, dimmi—non udisti mai che le cose male acquistate ebbero sempre mal esito? E fu sempre felice quel figlio il cui padre per il suo accumulare andò all’inferno? Io lascerò a mio figlio le mie azioni virtuose, e volesse il cielo che mio padre non m’avesse lasciato di più. Ché tutto il resto si tiene a tal prezzo che porta mille volte più affanno a custodirlo di quanto piacere dia il possederlo. Ah, cugino York, sapessero i tuoi migliori amici quanto mi duole che la tua testa sia qui.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Mio signore, rinfrancate lo spirito—i nemici son vicini, e questo molle coraggio fa smarrire i vostri seguaci. Prometteste il cavalierato al nostro ardito figlio. Sguainate la spada e armatelo subito. Edoardo, inginòcchiati. Il principe Edoardo s’inginocchia
RE ENRICO	Edoardo Plantageneto, sorgi cavaliere— e impara questa lezione: sguaina la tua spada per il giusto.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	(alzandosi) Mio grazioso padre, con la vostra regale licenza, la sguainerò come erede designato alla corona, e in quella contesa l’userò fino alla morte.
CLIFFORD	Ecco, questo è parlare da principe promettente.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messo
MESSO	Regali comandanti, state pronti— ché con una schiera di trentamila uomini viene Warwick a sostegno del duca di York; e nelle città, mentre marciano, lo proclama re, e molti accorrono a lui. Schierate la battaglia, ché sono vicini.
CLIFFORD	(a re Enrico) Vorrei che vostra altezza lasciasse il campo— la regina ha miglior successo quando siete assente.
REGINA MARGHERITA	(a re Enrico) Sì, mio buon signore, e lasciateci alla nostra fortuna.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, è anche la mia fortuna—perciò resterò.
NORTHUMBERLAND	Sia dunque con risoluzione di combattere.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	(a re Enrico) Mio regale padre, rincuorate questi nobili signori e fate animo a quelli che combattono in vostra difesa. Sguainate la spada, buon padre; grida ‘San Giorgio!’ Marcia. Entrano Edoardo duca di York, il conte di Warwick, Riccardo, Giorgio, il duca di Norfolk, il marchese di Montague, e soldati
EDOARDO	Ora, spergiuro Enrico, t’inginocchierai per grazia, e porrai il tuo diadema sul mio capo— o attenderai la mortale fortuna del campo?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Va’ a sgridare i tuoi favoriti, superbo ragazzo insolente! Ti si addice esser così ardito di parola davanti al tuo sovrano e al tuo legittimo re?
EDOARDO	Io sono il suo re, ed egli dovrebbe piegare il ginocchio. Fui adottato erede col suo consenso.
GIORGIO	(a la regina Margherita) Da allora il suo giuramento è rotto—ché, a quanto sento, voi che siete il re, sebbene egli porti la corona, gli avete fatto con nuovo atto del Parlamento cancellare nostro fratello e mettervi il proprio figlio.
CLIFFORD	E con ragione— chi dovrebbe succedere al padre se non il figlio?
RICCARDO	Sei lì, macellaio? Oh, non posso parlare!
CLIFFORD	Sì, gobbo, qui sto a risponderti, o a chiunque, il più superbo della tua razza.
RICCARDO	Fosti tu a uccidere il giovane Rutland, non è vero?
CLIFFORD	Sì, e il vecchio York, e non ancora appagato.
RICCARDO	Per amor di Dio, signori, date il segnale alla battaglia.
WARWICK	Che dici, Enrico, cederai la corona?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ebbene, che c’è, Warwick dalla lingua lunga, osi parlare? Quando tu e io ci incontrammo l’ultima volta a Saint Albans, le tue gambe fecero miglior servizio delle tue mani.
WARWICK	Allora era il mio turno di fuggire—e ora è il tuo.
CLIFFORD	Lo dicesti anche prima, e tuttavia fuggisti.
WARWICK	Non fu il tuo valore, Clifford, a cacciarmi di là.
NORTHUMBERLAND	No, né il tuo coraggio, che osasse farti restare.
RICCARDO	Northumberland, io ti tengo in riverenza. Rompi il colloquio, ché a stento trattengo l’esecuzione del mio cuore gonfio su quel Clifford, quel crudele uccisore di fanciulli.
CLIFFORD	Uccisi tuo padre—lo chiami tu un fanciullo?
RICCARDO	Sì, come un vile e un codardo traditore, così come uccidesti il nostro tenero fratello Rutland. Ma prima del tramonto ti farò maledire l’atto.
RE ENRICO	Basta con le parole, signori, e ascoltatemi parlare.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Sfidali, allora, o tieni chiuse le labbra.
RE ENRICO	Ti prego, non porre limiti alla mia lingua— sono un re, e ho il privilegio di parlare.
CLIFFORD	Mio sire, la ferita che generò questo incontro non può esser sanata con parole—perciò tacete.
RICCARDO	Allora, carnefice, sguaina la tua spada. Per colui che ci fece tutti, son convinto che il coraggio di Clifford stia sulla sua lingua.
EDOARDO	Di’, Enrico, avrò il mio diritto o no? Mille uomini hanno rotto il digiuno oggi che mai ceneranno se non cedi la corona.
WARWICK	(a re Enrico) Se rifiuti, il loro sangue sul tuo capo; ché York veste l’armatura in nome della giustizia.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Se è giusto ciò che Warwick dice esser giusto, non esiste torto, ma ogni cosa è giusta.
RICCARDO	Chiunque t’abbia generato, là sta tua madre— ché, bene lo so, hai la lingua di tua madre.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ma tu non somigli né a tuo padre né a tua madre, ma a un turpe deforme segnato dal marchio, indicato dai destini a esser evitato, come rospi velenosi o terribili morsi di lucertola.
RICCARDO	Ferro di Napoli, nascosto sotto doratura inglese, il cui padre porta il titolo di re— come se una fogna fosse chiamata mare— non ti vergogni, sapendo d’onde sei tratta, di lasciar che la tua lingua tradisca il tuo cuore di bassa nascita?
EDOARDO	Un ciuffo di paglia varrebbe mille corone per far conoscere sé stessa a questa svergognata baldracca. Elena di Grecia era di gran lunga più bella di te, sebbene tuo marito possa essere Menelao; e mai il fratello di Agamennone fu oltraggiato da quella falsa donna, come questo re da te. Suo padre trionfò nel cuore della Francia, e domò il re, e piegò il Delfino; e s’egli si fosse sposato secondo il suo rango, avrebbe potuto conservare quella gloria fino a oggi. Ma quando prese una mendicante nel suo letto, e onorò il tuo povero padre col giorno delle sue nozze, già allora quel sole gli preparò un rovescio che lavò via dalla Francia le fortune di suo padre, e accumulò sedizione sulla sua corona in patria. Ché che altro ha suscitato questo tumulto se non il tuo orgoglio? Fossi stata mite, il nostro titolo ancor dormirebbe, e noi, per pietà del gentile re, avremmo differito la nostra pretesa a un’altra età.
GIORGIO	(a la regina Margherita) Ma quando vedemmo che il nostro sole faceva la tua primavera, e che la tua estate non ci dava alcun frutto, ponemmo la scure alla tua radice usurpatrice. E sebbene il taglio abbia in qualche modo colpito noi stessi, sappi tuttavia che, poiché abbiamo cominciato a colpire, non smetteremo finché non t’avremo abbattuta, o bagnato il tuo germoglio col nostro sangue infuocato.
EDOARDO	(a la regina Margherita) E in questa risoluzione ti sfido, non volendo più alcun colloquio poiché neghi al gentile re di parlare.
(didascalia)	Suonino le trombe—sventolino le nostre insegne sanguinose!
EDOARDO	E o vittoria, o una tomba!
REGINA MARGHERITA	Fermati, Edoardo.
EDOARDO	No, donna litigiosa, non ci fermeremo più— queste parole costeranno diecimila vite oggi.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Marcia. Escono Edoardo e i suoi uomini da una porta e la regina Margherita e i suoi uomini da un’altra porta

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter the Earl of Warwick
WARWICK	Forespent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe; For strokes received, and many blows repaid, Have robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while.
(didascalia)	Enter Edward, the Duke of York, running
EDWARD	Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death! For this world frowns, and Edward’s sun is clouded.
WARWICK	How now, my lord, what hap? What hope of good?
(didascalia)	Enter George, running
GEORGE	Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us. What counsel give you? Whither shall we fly?
EDWARD	Bootless is flight—they follow us with wings, And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
(didascalia)	Enter Richard, running
RICHARD	Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broached 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 stained their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.
WARWICK	Then let the earth be drunken with our blood. I’ll kill my horse, because I will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; And look upon, as if the tragedy Were played in jest by counterfeiting actors? (Kneeling) Here, on my knee, I vow to God above I’ll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
EDWARD	(kneeling) O, Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chain my soul to thine. And, ere my knee rise from the earth’s cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to Thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings, Beseeching Thee, if with Thy will it stands That to my foes this body must be prey, Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope And give sweet passage to my sinful soul.
(didascalia)	They rise
EDWARD	Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where’er it be, in heaven or in earth.
ICHARD	Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick, Let me embrace thee in my weary arms. I, that did never weep, now melt with woe That winter should cut off our springtime so.
WARWICK	Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell.
GEORGE	Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games. This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of life and victory. Forslow no longer—make we hence amain. Exeunt
(didascalia)	2.4 Alarums. Excursions. Enter Richard at one door and Lord Clifford at the other
RICHARD	Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone. Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge, Wert thou environed with a brazen wall.
CLIFFORD	Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone. This is the hand that stabbed thy father York, And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland, And here’s the heart that triumphs in their death And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother To execute the like upon thyself— And so, have at thee! They fight. The Earl of Warwick comes and rescues Richard. Lord Clifford flies
RICHARD	Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase— For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme. Scorrerie. Entra il conte di Warwick
WARWICK	Sfinito dalla fatica, come i corridori dopo la corsa, mi corico un poco per riprender fiato; ché i colpi ricevuti, e i molti colpi resi, han derubato i miei nervi ben tesi della loro forza, e, a dispetto d’ogni dispetto, devo riposare un poco.
(didascalia)	Entra Edoardo, il duca di York, correndo
EDOARDO	Sorridi, cielo gentile, o colpisci, morte sgarbata! Ché questo mondo s’acciglia, e il sole d’Edoardo è offuscato.
WARWICK	Ebbene, mio signore, che sorte? Che speranza di bene?
(didascalia)	Entra Giorgio, correndo
GIORGIO	La nostra sorte è perdita, la nostra speranza solo triste disperazione; le nostre file son rotte, e la rovina ci segue. Che consiglio date? Dove fuggiremo?
EDOARDO	Vana è la fuga—ci inseguono con le ali, e noi siamo deboli, e non possiamo sfuggire all’inseguimento.
(didascalia)	Entra Riccardo, correndo
RICCARDO	Ah, Warwick, perché ti sei ritirato? Il sangue di tuo fratello la terra sitibonda l’ha bevuto, aperto dalla punta d’acciaio della lancia di Clifford. E nelle strette stesse della morte egli gridò, come un lugubre clangore udito da lontano: ‘Warwick, vendetta—fratello, vendica la mia morte!’ Così, sotto il ventre dei loro destrieri che tinsero i loro pasturali nel suo sangue fumante, il nobile gentiluomo rese lo spirito.
WARWICK	Allora sia la terra inebriata del nostro sangue. Ucciderò il mio cavallo, perché non voglio fuggire. Perché stiamo qui come donne dal cuore tenero, a lamentare le nostre perdite, mentre il nemico infuria; e a guardare, come se la tragedia fosse recitata per scherzo da attori simulatori? (Inginocchiandosi) Qui, sul mio ginocchio, giuro a Dio là sopra che mai più mi fermerò, mai starò immobile, finché o la morte non abbia chiuso questi miei occhi o la fortuna non mi abbia dato misura di vendetta.
EDOARDO	(inginocchiandosi) O Warwick, io piego il mio ginocchio col tuo, e in questo voto incateno la mia anima alla tua. E, prima che il mio ginocchio si levi dal freddo volto della terra, volgo a Te le mie mani, i miei occhi, il mio cuore, Tu che innalzi e abbatti i re, supplicandoti che, se sta nella Tua volontà che questo corpo debba esser preda dei miei nemici, si aprano tuttavia le Tue porte di bronzo del cielo e diano dolce passaggio alla mia peccatrice anima.
(didascalia)	Si alzano
EDOARDO	Ora, signori, prendiamo congedo fino al nostro nuovo incontro, ovunque sia, in cielo o in terra.
ICHARD	Fratello, dammi la tua mano; e, gentile Warwick, lascia che t’abbracci nelle mie braccia stanche. Io, che mai piansi, ora mi struggo di dolore che l’inverno recida così la nostra primavera.
WARWICK	Via, via! Ancora una volta, dolci signori, addio.
GIORGIO	Andiamo tuttavia tutti insieme alle nostre truppe, e diamo licenza di fuggire a chi non vuol restare; e chiamiamo colonne quelli che staranno con noi; e, se prosperiamo, promettiamo loro tali ricompense quali portano i vincitori ai giochi olimpici. Questo può piantare coraggio nei loro petti tremanti, ché v’è ancora speranza di vita e di vittoria. Non tardiamo più—andiamo di qui a tutta forza. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarums. Excursions. Enter Richard at one door and Lord Clifford at the other
RICHARD	Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone. Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York, And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge, Wert thou environed with a brazen wall.
CLIFFORD	Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone. This is the hand that stabbed thy father York, And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland, And here’s the heart that triumphs in their death And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother To execute the like upon thyself— And so, have at thee! They fight. The Earl of Warwick comes and rescues Richard. Lord Clifford flies
RICHARD	Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase— For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli d’allarme. Scorrerie. Entra Riccardo da una porta e lord Clifford dall’altra
RICCARDO	Ora, Clifford, t’ho isolato solo. Poni che questo braccio sia per il duca di York, e questo per Rutland, entrambi votati alla vendetta, fossi tu circondato da un muro di bronzo.
CLIFFORD	Ora, Riccardo, sono qui con te solo. Questa è la mano che pugnalò tuo padre York, e questa la mano che uccise tuo fratello Rutland, ed ecco il cuore che trionfa nella loro morte e incita queste mani che uccisero tuo padre e tuo fratello a compiere il simile su te stesso— e dunque, a te! Combattono. Il conte di Warwick sopravviene e soccorre Riccardo. Lord Clifford fugge
RICCARDO	No, Warwick, scegliti qualche altra preda— ché io stesso caccerò questo lupo a morte. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter King Henry
KING HENRY	This battle fares like to the morning’s war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way like a mighty sea Forced by the tide to combat with the wind, Now sways it that way like the selfsame sea Forced 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! 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: How many makes the hour full complete, How many hours brings 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 myself, So many days my ewes have been with young, So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean, So many years ere I shall shear the fleece. So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Passed 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 seely sheep Than doth a rich embroidered canopy To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery? O yes, it doth—a thousandfold 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 waits on him.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter at one door a Soldier with a dead man in his arms. King Henry stands apart
SOLDIER	Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of crowns; And I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them To some man else, as this dead man doth me.
(didascalia)	He removes the dead man’s helmet
SOLDIER	Who’s this? O God! It is my father’s face Whom in this conflict I, unwares, have killed. 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, pressed 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. My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks, And no more words till they have flowed their fill. He weeps
KING HENRY	O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. Weep, wretched man, I’ll aid thee tear for tear; And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears, and break, o’ercharged with grief.
(didascalia)	Enter at another door another Soldier with a dead man in his arms
SECOND SOLDIER	Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold— For I have bought it with an hundred blows.
(didascalia)	He removes the dead man’s helmet
SECOND SOLDIER	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! (Weeping) See, see, what showers arise, Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, Upon thy wounds, that kills 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! O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!
KING HENRY	Woe above woe! Grief more than common grief! O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses; The one his purple blood right well resembles, The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth. Wither one rose, and let the other flourish— If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
FIRST SOLDIER	How will my mother for a father’s death Take on with me, and ne’er be satisfied!
SECOND SOLDIER	How will my wife for slaughter of my son Shed seas of tears, and ne’er be satisfied!
KING HENRY	How will the country for these woeful chances Misthink the King, and not be satisfied!
FIRST SOLDIER	Was ever son so rued a father’s death?
SECOND SOLDIER	Was ever father so bemoaned his son?
KING HENRY	Was ever king so grieved for subjects’ woe? Much is your sorrow, mine ten times so much.
FIRST SOLDIER	(to his father’s body) I’ll bear thee hence where I may weep my fill.
(didascalia)	Exit at one door with the body of his father
SECOND SOLDIER	(to his son’s body) 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, E’en for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I’ll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will— For I have murdered where I should not kill.
(didascalia)	Exit at another door with the body of his son
KING HENRY	Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
(didascalia)	Alarums. Excursions. Enter Prince Edward
PRINCE EDWARD	Fly, father, fly—for all your friends are fled, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull! Away—for death doth hold us in pursuit!
(didascalia)	Enter Queen Margaret
QUEEN MARGARET	Mount you, my lord—towards Berwick post amain. Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight, With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands, Are at our backs—and therefore hence amain.
(didascalia)	Enter Exeter
EXETER	Away—for vengeance comes along with them! Nay—stay not to expostulate—make speed— Or else come after. I’ll away before.
KING HENRY	Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter. Not that I fear to stay, but love to go Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme. Entra re Enrico
RE ENRICO	Questa battaglia va come la guerra del mattino, quando le nubi morenti contendono con la luce crescente, in quel tempo in cui il pastore, soffiandosi sulle dita, non può chiamarlo né giorno pieno né notte. Ora oscilla da questa parte come un mare possente costretto dalla marea a combattere col vento, ora oscilla da quella come quello stesso mare costretto a ritirarsi dalla furia del vento. Talvolta prevale la piena, e poi il vento; ora l’uno è il migliore, poi l’altro il più forte— entrambi lottando per esser vincitori, petto a petto, e nessuno però né vincitore né vinto. Tale è l’equilibrio pari di questa guerra crudele. Qui su questo monticello mi siederò. A chi Dio vuole, a lui sia la vittoria. Ché Margherita mia regina, e Clifford pure, m’han cacciato con rimproveri dalla battaglia, giurando entrambi che prosperano al meglio quando io ne sono lontano. Fossi morto, se tale fosse la buona volontà di Dio— ché che v’è in questo mondo se non pena e dolore? O Dio! Mi pare che sarebbe vita felice non esser più che un rozzo villano. Sedere su una collina, come faccio ora; intagliare quadranti con arte, punto per punto, per vedere così come corrono i minuti: quanti fanno l’ora piena e compiuta, quante ore conducono il giorno, quanti giorni compiono l’anno, quanti anni può vivere un uomo mortale. Saputo questo, dividere allora i tempi: tante ore devo custodire il mio gregge, tante ore devo prendere il mio riposo, tante ore devo meditare, tante ore devo divertirmi, tanti giorni le mie pecore sono gravide, tante settimane prima che le povere sciocche figlino, tanti anni prima ch’io tosi il vello. Così minuti, ore, giorni, settimane, mesi e anni, trascorsi al fine per cui furono creati, porterebbero i capelli bianchi a una quieta tomba. Ah, che vita sarebbe questa! Quanto dolce! Quanto amabile! Non dà il cespuglio di biancospino un’ombra più dolce ai pastori che guardano le loro innocenti pecore di quanto ne dia un ricco baldacchino ricamato ai re che temono il tradimento dei loro sudditi? Oh sì, la dà—mille volte la dà. E per concludere, la rozza cagliata del pastore, la sua bevanda fredda e leggera dalla borraccia di cuoio, il suo consueto sonno all’ombra d’un albero fresco, tutto ciò ch’egli gode sicuro e dolcemente, vale assai più delle delizie d’un principe, delle sue vivande scintillanti in coppa d’oro, del suo corpo coricato in un letto ricercato, quando affanno, sospetto e tradimento gli fanno corte.
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme. Entra da una porta un Soldato con un morto in braccio. Re Enrico sta in disparte
SOLDATO	Mal soffia il vento che a nessuno giova. Quest’uomo, che a corpo a corpo uccisi in battaglia, può avere addosso qualche riserva di monete; e io, che per caso ora gliele prendo, potrei prima di notte cedere la mia vita e quelle a qualche altro, come questo morto fa con me.
(didascalia)	Toglie l’elmo al morto
SOLDATO	Chi è costui? O Dio! È il volto di mio padre, che in questo scontro io, inconsapevole, ho ucciso. Oh, tempi gravi, che generano tali eventi! Da Londra fui arruolato a forza dal re; mio padre, essendo uomo del conte di Warwick, venne per la parte di York, arruolato dal suo padrone; e io, che dalle sue mani ricevetti la vita, con le mie mani della vita l’ho privato. Perdonami, Dio, non sapevo quel che facevo; e perdona, padre, ché non ti riconoscevo. Le mie lacrime cancelleranno questi segni di sangue, e non più parole finché non abbiano scorso a sazietà. Piange
RE ENRICO	O spettacolo pietoso! O tempi sanguinosi! Mentre i leoni guerreggiano e si battono per le loro tane, i poveri agnelli innocui patiscono la loro inimicizia. Piangi, uomo infelice, t’aiuterò lacrima per lacrima; e siano i nostri cuori e occhi, come guerra civile, ciechi di lacrime, e si spezzino, sovraccarichi di dolore.
(didascalia)	Entra da un’altra porta un altro Soldato con un morto in braccio
SECONDO SOLDATO	Tu che m’hai resistito così valentemente, dammi il tuo oro, se hai dell’oro— ché l’ho comprato con cento colpi.
(didascalia)	Toglie l’elmo al morto
SECONDO SOLDATO	Ma lasciami vedere: è questo il volto del nostro nemico? Ah, no, no, no—è il mio unico figlio! Ah, ragazzo, se ti resta un po’ di vita, solleva lo sguardo! (Piangendo) Guarda, guarda, che rovesci si levano, spinti dalla ventosa tempesta del mio cuore, sulle tue ferite, e mi uccidono l’occhio e il cuore! Oh, abbi pietà, Dio, di questa età miserabile! Quali stratagemmi, quanto crudeli, quanto da macellai, erronei, sediziosi e snaturati, genera ogni giorno questa contesa mortale! O ragazzo, tuo padre ti diede la vita troppo presto, e t’ha privato della vita troppo tardi!
RE ENRICO	Dolore sopra dolore! Pena più che comune pena! Oh, che la mia morte fermasse queste opere pietose! Oh, pietà, pietà, cielo gentile, pietà! La rosa rossa e la bianca sono sul suo volto, i colori fatali delle nostre case in lotta; l’una il suo sangue purpureo assai bene somiglia, l’altra le sue guance pallide, mi pare, raffigura. Si secchi una rosa, e l’altra fiorisca— se contendete, mille vite dovranno seccarsi.
PRIMO SOLDATO	Come mia madre per la morte d’un padre si scaglierà contro di me, e non sarà mai appagata!
SECONDO SOLDATO	Come mia moglie per l’uccisione di mio figlio verserà mari di lacrime, e non sarà mai appagata!
RE ENRICO	Come il paese per questi dolorosi casi penserà male del re, e non sarà appagato!
PRIMO SOLDATO	Vi fu mai figlio che così rimpiangesse la morte d’un padre?
SECONDO SOLDATO	Vi fu mai padre che così piangesse suo figlio?
RE ENRICO	Vi fu mai re così afflitto per il dolore dei sudditi? Grande è il vostro dolore, il mio dieci volte tanto.
PRIMO SOLDATO	(al corpo di suo padre) Ti porterò via dove possa piangere a sazietà.
(didascalia)	Esce da una porta col corpo di suo padre
SECONDO SOLDATO	(al corpo di suo figlio) Queste mie braccia saranno il tuo sudario; il mio cuore, dolce ragazzo, sarà il tuo sepolcro, ché dal mio cuore la tua immagine mai partirà. Il mio petto sospirante sarà la tua campana funebre, e tuo padre sarà tanto ossequioso nel lutto, anche solo per la perdita di te, non avendone altri, quanto Priamo per tutti i suoi valorosi figli. Ti porterò via, e combatta chi vuole— ché io ho assassinato dove non dovevo uccidere.
(didascalia)	Esce da un’altra porta col corpo di suo figlio
RE ENRICO	Uomini dal cuore triste, assai vinti dall’affanno, qui siede un re più dolente di voi.
(didascalia)	Squilli d’allarme. Scorrerie. Entra il principe Edoardo
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Fuggite, padre, fuggite—ché tutti i vostri amici son fuggiti, e Warwick infuria come un toro irritato! Via—ché la morte ci tiene all’inseguimento!
(didascalia)	Entra la regina Margherita
REGINA MARGHERITA	A cavallo, mio signore—verso Berwick, a tutta corsa. Edoardo e Riccardo, come una coppia di levrieri che ha in vista la lepre timorosa in fuga, con occhi di fuoco scintillanti di pura ira, e l’acciaio sanguinoso stretto nelle mani irate, ci sono alle spalle—e perciò via di qui a tutta forza.
(didascalia)	Entra Exeter
EXETER	Via—ché la vendetta viene con loro! No—non fermatevi a discutere—fate presto— o venite dopo. Io andrò avanti.
RE ENRICO	No, prendimi con te, buon dolce Exeter. Non che io tema di restare, ma amo andare dove la regina intende. Avanti, via. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A loud alarum. Enter Lord Clifford, wounded with an arrow in his neck
CLIFFORD	Here burns my candle out—ay, here it dies, Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light. O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow More than my body’s parting with my soul! My love and fear glued many friends to thee— And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts, Impairing Henry, strength’ning misproud York. The common people swarm like summer flies, And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry’s enemies? O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorched the earth! And, Henry, hadst thou swayed as kings should do, Or as thy father and his father did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies; I and ten thousand in this luckless realm Had left no mourning widows for our death; And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds, but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight; The foe is merciless and will not pity, For at their hands I have deserved no pity. The air hath got into my deadly wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. Come York and Richard, Warwick and the rest— I stabbed your fathers’ bosoms; split my breast.
(didascalia)	He faints.
(didascalia)	Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward Duke of York,
CLIFFORD	his brothers George and Richard, the Earl of
(didascalia)	Warwick, the Marquis of Montague, and soldiers
EDWARD	Now breathe we, lords—good fortune bids us pause, And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. Some troops pursue the bloody-minded Queen, That led calm Henry, though he were a king, As doth a sail filled with a fretting gust Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
WARWICK	No—‘tis impossible he should escape; For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard marked him for the grave. And whereso’er he is, he’s surely dead. Clifford groans
(didascalia)	EDWARD
WARWICK	Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?
(didascalia)	RICHARD
WARWICK	A deadly groan, like life and death’s departing.
(didascalia)	EDWARD to Richard
WARWICK	See who it is.
(didascalia)	Richard goes to Clifford
WARWICK	And now the battle’s ended, If friend or foe, let him be gently used.
RICHARD	Revoke that doom of mercy, for ‘tis Clifford; Who not contented that he lopped the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murd’ring knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring— I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
WARWICK	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 answerèd.
EDWARD	Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours.
(didascalia)	Clifford is dragged forward
EDWARD	Now death shall stop his dismal threat’ning sound And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
WARWICK	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.
RICHARD	O, would he did—and so perhaps he doth. ’Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts Which in the time of death he gave our father.
GEORGE	If so thou think’st, vex him with eager words.
RICHARD	Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.
EDWARD	Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
WARWICK	Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
GEORGE	While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
RICHARD	Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.
EDWARD	Thou pitied’st Rutland—I will pity thee.
GEORGE	Where’s Captain Margaret to fence you now?
WARWICK	They mock thee, Clifford—swear as thou wast wont.
RICHARD	What, not an oath? Nay, then, the world 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 but two hours’ life That I, in all despite, might rail at him, This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain whose unstanchèd thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
WARWICK	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 scattered 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’ll cross the sea To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
EDWARD	Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be. For in 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 Gloucester, And George, of Clarence; Warwick, as ourself, Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.
RICHARD	Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester— For Gloucester’s dukedom is too ominous.
WARWICK	Tut, that’s a foolish observation— Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London To see these honours in possession.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. York’s head is removed

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un forte squillo d’allarme. Entra lord Clifford, ferito da una freccia nel collo
CLIFFORD	Qui la mia candela si consuma—sì, qui muore, quella che, mentre durò, diede luce a re Enrico. O Lancaster, temo la tua caduta più della separazione del mio corpo dalla mia anima! Il mio amore e il mio timore incollarono a te molti amici— e, ora che cado, il tuo tenace impasto si scioglie, indebolendo Enrico, rafforzando il mal superbo York. Il popolo sciama come mosche d’estate, e dove volano le zanzare se non al sole? E chi brilla ora se non i nemici di Enrico? O Febo, non avessi mai dato consenso che Fetonte guidasse i tuoi destrieri di fuoco, il tuo carro ardente non avrebbe mai arso la terra! E, Enrico, avessi tu regnato come i re devono fare, o come fecero tuo padre e il padre suo, non cedendo terreno alla casa di York, essi non sarebbero mai sorti come mosche d’estate; io e diecimila in questo regno sventurato non avremmo lasciato vedove in lutto per la nostra morte; e tu oggi avresti tenuto in pace il tuo trono. Ché che cosa nutre le male erbe se non l’aria mite? E che cosa rende arditi i briganti se non troppa indulgenza? Vani sono i lamenti, e insanabili le mie ferite; nessuna via per fuggire, né forza per sostenere la fuga; il nemico è senza pietà e non avrà pietà, ché dalle loro mani non ho meritato pietà. L’aria è entrata nelle mie ferite mortali, e il gran fluire di sangue mi fa venir meno. Venite York e Riccardo, Warwick e gli altri— io pugnalai il petto dei vostri padri; spaccate il mio.
(didascalia)	Viene meno.
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme e ritirata. Entrano Edoardo duca di York,
CLIFFORD	i suoi fratelli Giorgio e Riccardo, il conte di
(didascalia)	Warwick, il marchese di Montague, e soldati
EDOARDO	Ora respiriamo, signori—la buona fortuna ci invita a sostare, e a spianare le rughe della guerra con sguardi di pace. Alcune truppe inseguono la regina dall’animo sanguinario, che guidava il placido Enrico, benché egli fosse re, come una vela gonfia di raffica impetuosa comanda al galeone di fendere le onde. Ma credete, signori, che Clifford sia fuggito con loro?
WARWICK	No—è impossibile che scampi; ché, sebbene io dica queste parole in sua presenza, vostro fratello Riccardo l’ha segnato per la tomba. E dovunque sia, è certamente morto. Clifford geme
(didascalia)	EDOARDO
WARWICK	Di chi è quell’anima che prende il suo grave congedo?
(didascalia)	RICCARDO
WARWICK	Un gemito mortale, come il separarsi di vita e morte.
(didascalia)	EDOARDO a Riccardo
WARWICK	Guarda chi è.
(didascalia)	Riccardo va verso Clifford
WARWICK	E ora che la battaglia è finita, amico o nemico, sia trattato con gentilezza.
RICCARDO	Revoca quella sentenza di clemenza, ché è Clifford; il quale, non contento d’aver tagliato il ramo recidendo Rutland quando le sue foglie germogliavano, pose il suo coltello assassino alla radice d’onde quel tenero germoglio dolcemente sbocciò— intendo il nostro principesco padre, duca di York.
WARWICK	Dalle porte di York togliete giù la testa, la testa di vostro padre, che Clifford vi pose. Al suo posto questa ne prenda il luogo— misura per misura si deve rispondere.
EDOARDO	Portate avanti quel funesto barbagianni della nostra casa, che nulla cantò se non morte a noi e ai nostri.
(didascalia)	Clifford è trascinato avanti
EDOARDO	Ora la morte fermerà il suo lugubre suono minaccioso e la sua lingua di malaugurio non parlerà più.
WARWICK	Credo che l’intelletto gli sia venuto meno. Parla, Clifford, sai chi ti parla? La morte buia e nuvolosa adombra i raggi della sua vita, ed egli non ci vede né ci ode in ciò che diciamo.
RICCARDO	Oh, volesse il cielo che udisse—e forse ode. È solo sua astuzia il fingere così, perché vorrebbe evitare quegli amari insulti che nel tempo della morte rivolse a nostro padre.
GIORGIO	Se così credi, tormentalo con parole pungenti.
RICCARDO	Clifford, chiedi pietà e non ottenere grazia.
EDOARDO	Clifford, pèntiti in vana penitenza.
WARWICK	Clifford, escogita scuse per le tue colpe.
GIORGIO	Mentre noi escogitiamo crudeli torture per le tue colpe.
RICCARDO	Tu amasti York, e io sono figlio di York.
EDOARDO	Tu avesti pietà di Rutland—io avrò pietà di te.
GIORGIO	Dov’è il capitano Margherita per difenderti ora?
WARWICK	Ti scherniscono, Clifford—impreca come solevi.
RICCARDO	Che, nemmeno un’imprecazione? Ebbene, il mondo va male quando Clifford non può concedere ai suoi amici un’imprecazione. Da questo capisco ch’è morto—e, per la mia anima, se questa destra potesse comprare due sole ore di vita perché io, per pieno dispetto, potessi inveire contro lui, l’altra mano la taglierebbe, e col sangue che ne sgorga soffocherei il malvagio la cui sete inestinguibile York e il giovane Rutland non poterono saziare.
WARWICK	Sì, ma è morto. Via la testa del traditore, e innalzatela nel luogo dove sta quella di vostro padre. E ora a Londra con marcia trionfale, là per essere incoronato regale re d’Inghilterra; d’onde Warwick solcherà il mare verso la Francia, e chiederà madama Bona per tua regina. Così legherai insieme queste due terre. E, avendo la Francia amica, non temerai il nemico disperso che spera di rialzarsi, ché, sebbene non possano pungere molto a nuocere, aspettati però che ronzino a offendere le tue orecchie. Prima vedrò l’incoronazione, e poi verso la Bretagna varcherò il mare per effettuare questo matrimonio, se piace al mio signore.
EDOARDO	Sia proprio come tu vuoi, dolce Warwick. Ché sulla tua spalla edifico il mio seggio, e mai intraprenderò cosa in cui manchi il tuo consiglio e consenso. Riccardo, ti creerò duca di Gloucester, e Giorgio, di Clarence; Warwick, come noi stessi, farà e disfarà come più gli piace.
RICCARDO	Sia io duca di Clarence, e Giorgio di Gloucester— ché il ducato di Gloucester è troppo infausto.
WARWICK	Bah, è una sciocca osservazione— Riccardo, sii duca di Gloucester. Ora a Londra a veder questi onori in possesso.
(didascalia)	Escono. La testa di York è rimossa

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter two Gamekeepers, with crossbows in their hands
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	Under this thick-grown brake we’ll 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.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	I’ll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	That cannot be—the noise of thy crossbow 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’ll tell thee what befell me on a day In this self place where now we mean to stand.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	Here comes a man—let’s stay till he be past. They stand apart. Enter King Henry, disguised, carrying a prayer-book
KING HENRY	From Scotland am I stolen, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No, Harry, Harry—’tis no land of thine. Thy place is filled, thy sceptre wrung from thee, Thy balm washed off wherewith thou 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?
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	(to the Second Gamekeeper) Ay, here’s a deer whose skin’s a keeper’s fee: This is the quondam king—let’s seize upon him.
KING HENRY	Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, For wise men say it is the wisest course.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	(to the First Gamekeeper) Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	(to the Second Gamekeeper) Forbear awhile—we’ll hear a little more.
KING HENRY	My queen and son are gone to France for aid, And, as I hear, 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 Louis 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 batt‘ry in his breast, Her tears will pierce into a marble heart, The tiger will be mild whiles 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 deposed, He smiles and says his Edward is installed; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more, Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion wins the King from her With promise of his sister and what else To strengthen and support King Edward’s place. O, Margaret, thus ’twill be; and thou, poor soul, Art then forsaken, as thou went’st forlorn.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	(coming orward) Say, what art thou that talk’st of kings and queens?
KING HENRY	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?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	Ay, but thou talk’st as if thou wert a king.
KING HENRY	Why, so I am, in mind—and that’s enough.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	But if thou be a king, where is thy crown?
KING HENRY	My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones, Nor to be seen. My crown is called content— A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	Well, if you be a king crowned 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 deposed, And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance Will apprehend you as his enemy.
KING HENRY	But did you never swear and break an oath?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	No—never such an oath, nor will not now.
KING HENRY	Where did you dwell when I was King of England?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER	Here in this country, where we now remain.
KING HENRY	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 ?
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	No, for we were subjects but while you were king.
KING HENRY	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’ll obey.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	We are true subjects to the King, King Edward.
KING HENRY	So would you be again to Henry, If he were seated as King Edward is.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER	We charge you, in God’s name and in the King’s, To go with us unto the officers.
KING HENRY	In God’s name, lead; your king’s name be obeyed; And what God will, that let your king perform; And what he will I humbly yield unto. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano due Guardacaccia, con balestre in mano
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	Sotto questo folto roveto ci nasconderemo, ché per questa radura tra poco verranno i cervi, e in questo coperto ci apposteremo, scegliendo il migliore di tutti i cervi.
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	Io starò sopra la collina, così potremo tirare entrambi.
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	Non può essere—il rumore della tua balestra spaventerà il branco, e così il mio tiro è perduto. Stiamo qui entrambi, e miriamo al migliore. E, perché il tempo non paia tedioso, ti racconterò ciò che mi accadde un giorno in questo stesso luogo dove ora intendiamo appostarci.
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	Ecco viene un uomo—aspettiamo che sia passato. Si mettono in disparte. Entra re Enrico, travestito, con un libro di preghiere
RE ENRICO	Dalla Scozia mi son sottratto, per puro amore, per salutare la mia terra col mio sguardo bramoso. No, Harry, Harry—non è terra tua. Il tuo posto è occupato, lo scettro ti è strappato, lavato via il crisma con cui fosti unto. Nessun ginocchio piegato ti chiamerà Cesare ora, nessun umile postulante s’affolla a chieder giustizia, no, non un uomo viene a cercare da te riparazione— ché come posso aiutar loro e non me stesso?
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	(al Secondo Guardacaccia) Sì, ecco un cervo la cui pelle è mancia da guardacaccia: questo è l’ex re—mettiamogli le mani addosso.
RE ENRICO	Lascia ch’io t’abbracci, aspra avversità, ché i saggi dicono che è il partito più saggio.
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	(al Primo Guardacaccia) Perché indugiamo? Mettiamogli le mani addosso.
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	(al Secondo Guardacaccia) Trattieniti un poco—udiremo ancora un poco.
RE ENRICO	La mia regina e mio figlio sono andati in Francia per aiuto, e, a quanto sento, il gran comandante Warwick è andato là a chiedere la sorella del re di Francia in moglie per Edoardo. Se questa nuova è vera, povera regina e povero figlio, la vostra fatica è perduta— ché Warwick è oratore sottile, e Luigi un principe presto vinto da parole commoventi. Per questo conto, dunque, Margherita può conquistarlo— ché è donna assai da compatire. I suoi sospiri apriranno una breccia nel suo petto, le sue lacrime penetreranno in un cuore di marmo, la tigre sarà mite mentre ella piange, e Nerone sarà macchiato di rimorso a udire e vedere i suoi lamenti, le sue salse lacrime. Sì, ma ella viene a chiedere; Warwick a dare. Ella alla sua sinistra, implorando aiuto per Enrico; egli alla sua destra, chiedendo una moglie per Edoardo. Ella piange e dice che il suo Enrico è deposto, egli sorride e dice che il suo Edoardo è insediato; cosicché ella, povera infelice, per il dolore non può più parlare, mentre Warwick espone il suo titolo, addolcisce il torto, reca argomenti di gran forza, e in conclusione le sottrae il re con la promessa di sua sorella e di quant’altro rafforzi e sostenga il posto di re Edoardo. O Margherita, così sarà; e tu, povera anima, sarai allora abbandonata, come partisti desolata.
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	(facendosi avanti) Di’, chi sei tu che parli di re e di regine?
RE ENRICO	Più di quel che sembro, e meno di quel per cui nacqui: un uomo almeno, ché meno non dovrei essere; e gli uomini possono parlare di re, e perché non io?
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	Sì, ma parli come se fossi un re.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, tale sono, nell’animo—e questo basta.
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	Ma se sei un re, dov’è la tua corona?
RE ENRICO	La mia corona è nel mio cuore, non sul mio capo; non ornata di diamanti e di gemme indiane, né visibile. La mia corona si chiama contentezza— una corona che raramente i re possiedono.
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	Bene, se siete un re incoronato di contentezza, la vostra corona contentezza e voi dovrete accontentarvi di venire con noi—ché, a quanto crediamo, voi siete il re che re Edoardo ha deposto, e noi suoi sudditi giurati in piena fedeltà vi arresteremo come suo nemico.
RE ENRICO	Ma non avete mai giurato e rotto un giuramento?
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	No—mai un tale giuramento, né ora lo faremo.
RE ENRICO	Dove dimoravate quando io ero re d’Inghilterra?
SECONDO GUARDACACCIA	Qui in questa contrada, dove ora stiamo.
RE ENRICO	Fui unto re a nove mesi, mio padre e mio nonno furono re, e voi eravate giurati miei fedeli sudditi— e dunque ditemi, non avete rotto i vostri giuramenti ?
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	No, ché fummo sudditi solo mentre voi eravate re.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene, sono morto? Non respiro come un uomo? Ah, uomini semplici, non sapete ciò che giurate. Guardate: soffio via questa piuma dal mio volto, e come l’aria me la risoffia indietro, obbedendo al mio soffio quando io soffio, e cedendo a un altro quando quello soffia, comandata sempre dalla raffica più forte— tale è la leggerezza di voi uomini comuni. Ma non rompete i vostri giuramenti, ché di quel peccato la mia mite preghiera non vi renderà colpevoli. Andate dove volete, il re sarà comandato; e siate voi re, comandate, e io obbedirò.
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	Noi siamo fedeli sudditi del re, re Edoardo.
RE ENRICO	E lo sareste di nuovo di Enrico, se egli sedesse come siede re Edoardo.
PRIMO GUARDACACCIA	Vi ordiniamo, nel nome di Dio e in quello del re, di venire con noi dagli ufficiali.
RE ENRICO	Nel nome di Dio, guidate; sia obbedito il nome del vostro re; e ciò che Dio vuole, che il vostro re lo compia; e a ciò che egli vuole umilmente mi sottometto. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, George Duke of Clarence, and the Lady Gray
KING EDWARD	Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Albans field This lady’s husband, Sir Richard Gray, was slain, His lands then seized 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.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Your highness shall do well to grant her suit— It were dishonour to deny it her.
KING EDWARD	It were no less; but yet I’ll make a pause.
RICHARD OF	GLOUCESTER, (aside to George) Yea, is it so? I see the lady hath a thing to grant Before the King will grant her humble suit.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind!
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) Silence.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) Widow, we will consider of your suit; And come some other time to know our mind.
LADY GRAY	Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay. May it please your highness to resolve me now, And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me.
RICHARD OF	GLOUCESTER, (aside to George) Ay, widow ? Then I’ll warrant you all your lands An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. Fight closer, or, good faith, you’ll catch a blow.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) I fear her not unless she chance to fall.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) God forbid that! For he’ll take vantages.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) How many children hast thou, widow ? Tell me.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) I think he means to beg a child of her.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) Nay, whip me then—he’ll rather give her two.
LADY GRAY	(to King Edward) Three, my most gracious lord.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) You shall have four, an you’ll be ruled by him.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) ’Twere pity they should lose their father’s lands.
LADY GRAY	Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it them.
KING EDWARD	(to Richard and George) Lords, give us leave—I’ll try this widow’s wit.
(didascalia)	RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER, aside to George
KING EDWARD	Ay, good leave have you; for you will have leave, Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch. Richard and George stand apart
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
LADY GRAY	Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
KING EDWARD	And would you not do much to do them good?
LADY GRAY	To do them good I would sustain some harm.
KING EDWARD	Then get your husband’s lands, to do them good.
LADY GRAY	Therefore I came unto your majesty.
KING EDWARD	I’ll tell you how these lands are to be got.
LADY GRAY	So shall you bind me to your highness’ service.
KING EDWARD	What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?
LADY GRAY	What you command, that rests in me to do.
KING EDWARD	But you will take exceptions to my boon.
LADY GRAY	No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
KING EDWARD	Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
LADY GRAY	Why, then, I will do what your grace commands.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) He plies her hard, and much rain wears the marble.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	As red as fire! Nay, then her wax must melt.
LADY GRAY	(to King Edward) Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task?
KING EDWARD	An easy task—’tis but to love a king.
LADY GRAY	That’s soon performed, because I am a subject.
KING EDWARD	Why, then, thy husband’s lands I freely give thee. 55
LADY GRAY	(curtsies) I take my leave, with many thousand thanks.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) The match is made—she seals it with a curtsy.
KING EDWARD	(to Lady Gray) But stay thee—’tis the fruits of love I mean.
LADY GRAY	The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
KING EDWARD	Ay, but I fear me in another sense. What love think’st thou I sue so much to get?
LADY GRAY	My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers— That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
KING EDWARD	No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.
LADY GRAY	Why, then, you mean not as I thought you did.
KING EDWARD	But now you partly may perceive my mind.
LADY GRAY	My mind will never grant what I perceive Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.
KING EDWARD	To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
LADY GRAY	To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison. 70
KING EDWARD	Why, then, thou shalt not have thy husband’s lands.
LADY GRAY	Why, then, mine honesty shall be my dower; For by that loss I will not purchase them.
KING EDWARD	Therein thou wrong’st thy children mightily.
LADY GRAY	Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. But, mighty lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness of my suit. Please you dismiss me either with ay or no.
KING EDWARD	Ay, if thou wilt say ‘ay’ to my request; No, if thou dost say ‘no’ to my demand.
LADY GRAY	Then, no, my lord—my suit is at an end.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) The widow likes him not—she knits her brows.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.
KING EDWARD	(aside) Her looks doth argue her replete with modesty; Her words doth show 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. (To Lady Gray) Say that King Edward take thee for his queen?
LADY GRAY	’Tis better said than done, my gracious lord. I am a subject fit to jest withal, But far unfit to be a sovereign.
KING EDWARD	Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee I speak no more than what my soul intends, And that is to enjoy thee for my love.
LADY GRAY	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.
KING EDWARD	You cavil, widow-I did mean my queen.
LADY GRAY	’Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father.
KING EDWARD	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.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	When he was made a shriver, ’twas for shift.
KING EDWARD	(to Richard and George) Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. Richard and George come forward
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.
KING EDWARD	You’d think it strange if I should marry her.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	To who, my lord ?
KING EDWARD	Why, Clarence, to myself.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	That would be ten days’ wonder at the least.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	That’s a day longer than a wonder lasts.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	By so much is the wonder in extremes.
KING EDWARD	Well, jest on, brothers—I can tell you both Her suit is granted for her husband’s lands.
(didascalia)	Enter a Nobleman
NOBLEMAN	My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken And brought as prisoner to your palace gate.
KING EDWARD	See that he be conveyed unto the Tower— (To Richard and George) And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To question of his apprehension.
(didascalia)	(To Lady Gray) Widow, go you along. To Richard and
(didascalia)	George Lords, use her honourably.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Richard
RICHARD OF GLOUCEST’ER	Ay, Edward will use women honourably. Would he were wasted, marrow, 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 soul’s desire and me— The lustful Edward’s title burièd— Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlooked-for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms ere I can place myself. A cold premeditation for my purpose. 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, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye, And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying he’ll lade it dry to have his way— So do I wish the crown being so far off, And so I chide the means that keeps me from it, And so I say I’ll 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 then for Richard— What other pleasure can the world afford? I’ll make my heaven in a lady’s lap, And deck my body in gay ornaments, And ’witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. O, miserable thought! And more unlikely Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns. Why, love forswore me in my mother’s womb, And, for I should not deal in her soft laws, She did corrupt frail nature with 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 unlicked bear whelp That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be beloved? O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought! 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, I’ll make my heaven to dream upon the crown, And whiles I live, t’account this world but hell, Until my misshaped trunk that bears this head Be round impaled with a glorious crown. And yet I know not how to get the crown, For many lives stand between me and home. And I—like one lost in a thorny wood, That rends 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 murder whiles I smile, And cry ‘Content!’ to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. I’ll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I’ll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I’ll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slyly than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. I can add colours to the chameleon, Change shapes with Proteus for advantages, And set the murderous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? Tut, were it farther off, I’ll pluck it down. Exit
(didascalia)	3.3 Two chairs of state. Flourish. Enter King Louis of France, his sister the Lady Bona, Lord Bourbon his admiral, Prince Edward, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Louis goes up upon the state, sits, and riseth up again
KING LOUIS	Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, Sit down with us. It ill befits thy state And birth that thou shouldst stand while Louis doth sit.
QUEEN MARGARET	No, mighty King of France, now Margaret Must strike her sail and learn a while to serve Where kings command. I was, I must confess, Great Albion’s queen in former golden days, 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 state conform myself.
KING LOUIS	Why, say, fair Queen, whence springs this deep despair ?
QUEEN MARGARET	From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares.
KING LOUIS	Whate’er it be, be thou still like thyself, And sit thee by our side. Seats her by him Yield not thy neck To fortune’s yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief. It shall be eased if France can yield relief.
QUEEN MARGARET	Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts, And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. Now, therefore, be it known to noble Louis That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is of a king become a banished man, And forced 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. An 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 seized, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.
KING LOUIS	Renowned Queen, with patience calm the storm, While we bethink a means to break it off.
QUEEN MARGARET	The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.
KING LOUIS	The more I stay, the more I’ll succour thee.
QUEEN MARGARET	O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick
QUEEN MARGARET	And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.
KING LOUIS	What’s he approacheth boldly to our presence?
QUEEN MARGARET	Our Earl of Warwick, Edward’s greatest friend.
KING LOUIS	Welcome, brave Warwick. What brings thee to France ? He descends. She ariseth
QUEEN MARGARET	(aside) Ay, now begins a second storm to rise, For this is he that moves both wind and tide.
WARWICK	(to King Louis) 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	(aside) If that go forward, Henry’s hope is done.
WARWICK	(to Lady Bona) And, gracious madam, 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 ent‘ring at his heedful ears, Hath placed thy beauty’s image and thy virtue.
QUEEN MARGARET	King Louis 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 Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ? To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice— That Henry liveth still; but were he dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry’s son. Look, therefore, Louis, that by this league and marriage Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour, For though usurpers sway the rule a while, Yet heav’ns are just and time suppresseth wrongs.
WARWICK	Injurious Margaret.
PRINCE EDWARD	And why not ‘Queen’?
WARWICK	Because thy father Henry did usurp, And thou no more art prince than she is queen.
OXFORD	Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France. From these our Henry lineally descends.
WARWICK	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.
OXFORD	Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, Whom thou obeyedest thirty and six years, And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
WARWICK	Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame—leave Henry, and call Edward king.
OXFORD	Call him my king by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, Was done to death ? And more than so, my father, Even in the downfall of his mellowed years, When nature brought him to the door of death? No, Warwick, no—while life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
WARWICK	And I the house of York.
KING LOUIS	Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside While I use further conference with Warwick.
(didascalia)	Queen Margaret comes down from the state and, with Prince Edward and Oxford, stands apart
QUEEN MARGARET	Heavens grant that Warwick’s words bewitch him not.
KING LOUIS	Now, Warwick, tell me even upon thy conscience, Is Edward your true king? For I were loath To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
WARWICK	Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.
KING LOUIS	But is he gracious in the people’s eye?
WARWICK	The more that Henry was unfortunate.
KING LOUIS	Then further, all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth the measure of his love Unto our sister Bona.
WARWICK	Such it seems As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say and swear That this his love was an eternal plant, Whereof the root was fixed in virtue’s ground, The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty’s sun, Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.
KING LOUIS	(to Lady Boa) Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.
LADY BONA	Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine. (To Warwick) Yet I confess that often ere this day, When I have heard your king’s desert recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgement to desire.
KING LOUIS	(to Warwick) Then, Warwick, thus—our sister shall be Edward’s. And now, forthwith, shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised. (To Queen Margaret) Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness That Bona shall be wife to the English king.
(didascalia)	Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford come forward
PRINCE EDWARD	To Edward, but not to the English king.
QUEEN MARGARET	Deceitful Warwick—it was thy device By this alliance to make void my suit! Before thy coming Louis was Henry’s friend.
KING LOUIS	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 ’tis but reason that I be released From giving aid which late I promised. Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand That your estate requires and mine can yield.
WARWICK	(to Queen Margaret) Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease, Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain you, And better ’twere you troubled him than France.
QUEEN MARGARET	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 Louis behold Thy sly conveyance and thy lord’s false love, Post blowing a horn within For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
KING LOUIS	Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.
(didascalia)	Enter the Post
POST	(to Warwick) My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, Sent from your brother Marquis Montague; (To Louis) These from our King unto your majesty; (To Queen Margaret) And, madam, these for you, from whom I know not. They all read their letters
OXFORD	(to Prince Edward) I like it well that our fair Queen and mistress Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
PRINCE EDWARD	Nay, mark how Louis stamps as he were nettled. I hope all’s for the best.
KING LOUIS	Warwick, what are thy news ? And yours, fair Queen?
QUEEN MARGARET	Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.
WARWICK	Mine, full of sorrow and heart’s discontent.
KING LOUIS	What! Has your king married the Lady Gray? And now to soothe your forgery and his, Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? Is this th’alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?
QUEEN MARGARET	I told your majesty as much before— This proveth Edward’s love and Warwick’s honesty.
WARWICK	King Louis, I here protest in sight of heaven 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 untimely to his death? Did I let pass th’abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right? And am I guerdoned at the last with shame? Shame on himself, for my desert is honour. And to repair my honour, lost for him, I here renounce him and return to Henry. (To Queen Margaret) 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	Warwick, these words have turned my hate to love, And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.
WARWICK	So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That if King Louis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I’ll undertake to land them on our coast And force the tyrant from his seat by war. ’Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him. And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, He’s very likely now to fall from him For matching more for wanton lust than honour, Or than for strength and safety of our country.
LADY BONA	(to King Louis) Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged, But by thy help to this distressed Queen?
QUEEN MARGARET	(to King Louis) Renowned Prince, how shall poor Henry live Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
LADY BONA	(to King Louis) My quarrel and this English Queen’s are one.
WARWICK	And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours.
KING LOUIS	And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret’s. Therefore at last I firmly am resolved: You shall have aid.
QUEEN MARGARET	Let me give humble thanks for all at once.
KING LOUIS	(to the Post) Then, England’s messenger, return in post And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Louis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride. Thou seest what’s passed, go fear thy king withal.
LADY BONA	(to the Post) Tell him, in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly, I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to the Post) Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside, And I am ready to put armour on.
WARWICK	(to the Post) Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere’t be long. (Giving money) There’s thy reward—be gone.
(didascalia)	Exit Post
KING LOUIS	But, Warwick, thou 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?
WARWICK	This shall assure my constant loyalty : That if our Queen and this young Prince agree, I’ll join mine eldest daughter and my joy To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.
QUEEN MARGARET	Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion. (To Prince Edward) Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, Therefore delay not. Give thy hand to Warwick, And with thy hand thy faith irrevocable That only Warwick’s daughter shall be thine.
PRINCE EDWARD	Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it, And here to pledge my vow I give my hand. He and Warwick clasp hands
KING LOUIS	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Warwick
WARWICK	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? Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that raised him to the crown, And I’ll be chief to bring him down again. Not that I pity Henry’s misery, But seek revenge on Edward’s mockery. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano re Edoardo, Riccardo duca di Gloucester, Giorgio duca di Clarence, e madama Gray
RE EDOARDO	Fratello di Gloucester, sul campo di Saint Albans il marito di questa dama, sir Riccardo Gray, fu ucciso, e le sue terre allora confiscate dal vincitore. La sua istanza è ora di riavere quelle terre, che in giustizia non possiamo bene negare, perché nella contesa della casa di York quel degno gentiluomo perse la vita.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Vostra altezza farà bene a concederle l’istanza— sarebbe disonore negarglielo.
RE EDOARDO	Non sarebbe meno; e tuttavia farò una pausa.
RICCARDO DI	GLOUCESTER, (a parte, a Giorgio) Ah, è così? Vedo che la dama ha qualcosa da concedere prima che il re conceda la sua umile istanza.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	(a parte, a Riccardo) Conosce il gioco; come tiene bene il vento!
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte, a Giorgio) Silenzio.
RE EDOARDO	(a madama Gray) Vedova, considereremo la vostra istanza; e venite un’altra volta a conoscere il nostro pensiero.
MADAMA GRAY	Graziosissimo signore, non posso tollerare indugio. Piaccia a vostra altezza risolvermi ora, e quale sia il vostro piacere mi contenterà.
RICCARDO DI	GLOUCESTER, (a parte, a Giorgio) Ah, vedova ? Allora vi garantisco tutte le vostre terre se ciò che piace a lui piacerà a voi. Battetevi più serrata, o, in buona fede, prenderete un colpo.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	(a parte, a Riccardo) Non temo per lei, a meno che non le càpiti di cadere.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte, a Giorgio) Dio non voglia! Ché egli approfitterà del vantaggio.
RE EDOARDO	(a madama Gray) Quanti figli hai, vedova ? Dimmi.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	(a parte, a Riccardo) Credo che intenda chiederle un figlio.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte, a Giorgio) No, mi si frusti allora—piuttosto gliene darà due.
MADAMA GRAY	(a re Edoardo) Tre, mio graziosissimo signore.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte) Ne avrete quattro, se vi lascerete guidare da lui.
RE EDOARDO	(a madama Gray) Sarebbe un peccato che perdessero le terre del padre.
MADAMA GRAY	Siate pietoso, temuto signore, e concedetele loro.
RE EDOARDO	(a Riccardo e Giorgio) Signori, lasciateci—metterò alla prova l’ingegno di questa vedova.
(didascalia)	RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER, a parte, a Giorgio
RE EDOARDO	Sì, buon congedo avete; ché avrete congedo finché la giovinezza prenda congedo e vi lasci alla gruccia. Riccardo e Giorgio si mettono in disparte
RE EDOARDO	(a madama Gray) Or dimmi, signora, amate i vostri figli?
MADAMA GRAY	Sì, tanto caramente quanto amo me stessa.
RE EDOARDO	E non fareste molto per far loro del bene?
MADAMA GRAY	Per far loro del bene sopporterei qualche male.
RE EDOARDO	Allora ottenete le terre di vostro marito, per far loro del bene.
MADAMA GRAY	Per questo venni a vostra maestà.
RE EDOARDO	Vi dirò come si possono ottenere queste terre.
MADAMA GRAY	Così mi legherete al servizio di vostra altezza.
RE EDOARDO	Che servizio mi farai, se le concedo?
MADAMA GRAY	Ciò che comandate, e che sia in mio potere fare.
RE EDOARDO	Ma farai obiezioni al mio favore.
MADAMA GRAY	No, grazioso signore, se non che non posso farlo.
RE EDOARDO	Sì, ma puoi fare ciò che intendo chiedere.
MADAMA GRAY	Ebbene, allora farò ciò che vostra grazia comanda.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a Giorgio) La incalza duramente, e molta pioggia consuma il marmo.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Rossa come il fuoco! Ebbene, allora la sua cera deve fondersi.
MADAMA GRAY	(a re Edoardo) Perché s’arresta il mio signore? Non udrò il mio compito?
RE EDOARDO	Un compito facile—non è che amare un re.
MADAMA GRAY	È presto compiuto, perché sono una suddita.
RE EDOARDO	Ebbene, allora le terre di tuo marito liberamente ti dono. 55
MADAMA GRAY	(fa una riverenza) Prendo congedo, con molte migliaia di grazie.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a Giorgio) L’accordo è fatto—lo sigilla con una riverenza.
RE EDOARDO	(a madama Gray) Ma férmati—intendo i frutti dell’amore.
MADAMA GRAY	I frutti dell’amore intendo anch’io, mio amorevole sire.
RE EDOARDO	Sì, ma temo in altro senso. Quale amore credi ch’io tanto solleciti d’ottenere?
MADAMA GRAY	Il mio amore fino alla morte, i miei umili ringraziamenti, le mie preghiere— quell’amore che la virtù chiede e la virtù concede.
RE EDOARDO	No, in fede mia, non intendevo tale amore.
MADAMA GRAY	Ebbene, allora non intendete ciò che credevo.
RE EDOARDO	Ma ora in parte potete scorgere il mio pensiero.
MADAMA GRAY	Il mio animo mai concederà ciò a cui scorgo che vostra altezza mira, se miro giusto.
RE EDOARDO	Per dirtelo chiaro, miro a giacere con te.
MADAMA GRAY	Per dirvelo chiaro, preferirei giacere in prigione. 70
RE EDOARDO	Ebbene, allora non avrai le terre di tuo marito.
MADAMA GRAY	Ebbene, allora la mia onestà sarà la mia dote; ché con quella perdita non le comprerò.
RE EDOARDO	In questo fai grave torto ai tuoi figli.
MADAMA GRAY	In questo vostra altezza fa torto a loro e a me. Ma, potente signore, questa allegra inclinazione non s’accorda con la tristezza della mia istanza. Piacciavi licenziarmi con un sì o con un no.
RE EDOARDO	Sì, se dirai ‘sì’ alla mia richiesta; no, se dici ‘no’ alla mia domanda.
MADAMA GRAY	Allora, no, mio signore—la mia istanza è conclusa.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a Giorgio) La vedova non lo gradisce—aggrotta le ciglia.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	È il corteggiatore più brusco della cristianità.
RE EDOARDO	(a parte) Il suo aspetto la dimostra piena di modestia; le sue parole mostrano il suo ingegno incomparabile; tutte le sue perfezioni reclamano sovranità. In un modo o nell’altro, ella è fatta per un re; e sarà il mio amore o altrimenti la mia regina. (A madama Gray) Poniamo che re Edoardo ti prenda per sua regina?
MADAMA GRAY	È più facile a dirsi che a farsi, mio grazioso signore. Sono una suddita buona per scherzarvi, ma del tutto inadatta a essere sovrana.
RE EDOARDO	Dolce vedova, per il mio stato ti giuro che non dico più di quanto la mia anima intende, e ciò è di goderti come mio amore.
MADAMA GRAY	E ciò è più di quanto io concederò. So che sono troppo umile per essere vostra regina, e tuttavia troppo buona per essere vostra concubina.
RE EDOARDO	Cavillate, vedova—intendevo mia regina.
MADAMA GRAY	Dolerà a vostra grazia che i miei figli vi chiamino padre.
RE EDOARDO	Non più di quando le mie figlie ti chiameranno madre. Tu sei vedova e hai qualche figlio; e, per la madre di Dio, io, che pur sono celibe, ne ho qualche altro. Ebbene, è cosa felice essere padre di molti figli. Non rispondere più, ché sarai la mia regina.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a Giorgio) Il padre spirituale ha ora finito la sua confessione.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Quando fu fatto confessore, fu per espediente.
RE EDOARDO	(a Riccardo e Giorgio) Fratelli, vi chiedete che colloquio abbiamo avuto noi due. Riccardo e Giorgio si fanno avanti
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Alla vedova non piace, ché appare molto triste.
RE EDOARDO	Vi parrebbe strano se io la sposassi.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	A chi, mio signore ?
RE EDOARDO	Ebbene, Clarence, a me stesso.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Sarebbe meraviglia di dieci giorni almeno.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	È un giorno più di quanto duri una meraviglia.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Di tanto la meraviglia è fuor di misura.
RE EDOARDO	Bene, scherzate, fratelli—posso dirvi a entrambi che la sua istanza per le terre del marito è concessa.
(didascalia)	Entra un Gentiluomo
GENTILUOMO	Mio grazioso signore, Enrico vostro nemico è preso e condotto come prigioniero alla porta del vostro palazzo.
RE EDOARDO	Fate ch’egli sia condotto alla Torre— (A Riccardo e Giorgio) e andiamo, fratelli, dall’uomo che l’ha preso, a interrogarlo della sua cattura.
(didascalia)	(A madama Gray) Vedova, venite anche voi. A Riccardo e
(didascalia)	Giorgio Signori, trattatela onorevolmente.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Riccardo
RICCARDO DI GLOUCEST’ER	Sì, Edoardo tratterà le donne onorevolmente. Fosse consunto, midollo, ossa e tutto, sì che dai suoi lombi nessun ramo promettente possa germogliare a sbarrarmi il tempo dorato che attendo. E tuttavia, fra il desiderio della mia anima e me— sepolto il titolo del lussurioso Edoardo— stanno Clarence, Enrico e suo figlio il giovane Edoardo, e tutta l’imprevista prole dei loro corpi, a prendere i loro posti prima ch’io possa collocarmi. Freddo pensiero per il mio proposito. Ebbene, allora io non fo che sognare la sovranità come chi sta su un promontorio e scorge una riva lontana dove vorrebbe posare il piede, desiderando che il suo piede pareggiasse il suo occhio, e rimprovera il mare che di là lo separa, dicendo che lo prosciugherà per farsi strada— così io desidero la corona essendo tanto lontana, e così rimprovero i mezzi che me ne tengono lontano, e così dico che taglierò via gli ostacoli, lusingandomi con impossibilità. Il mio occhio è troppo rapido, il mio cuore presume troppo, se la mia mano e la mia forza non possono pareggiarli. Bene, poniamo che non vi sia regno dunque per Riccardo— quale altro piacere può offrire il mondo? Farò il mio cielo nel grembo d’una dama, e ornerò il mio corpo di gai ornamenti, e stregherò dolci dame con le mie parole e i miei sguardi. Oh, pensiero miserabile! E più improbabile che conquistare venti corone d’oro. Ché l’amore mi ripudiò nel ventre di mia madre, e, perché io non trattassi nelle sue tenere leggi, corruppe con qualche mancia la fragile natura perché mi rattrappisse il braccio come arbusto secco, perché mi facesse un monte invidioso sulla schiena— dove siede la deformità a schernire il mio corpo— perché mi foggiasse le gambe di misura disuguale, perché mi sproporzionasse in ogni parte, simile a un caos, o a un cucciolo d’orso non ancora leccato che non porta impronta alcuna della madre. E sono io dunque uomo da essere amato? Oh, colpa mostruosa, nutrire un tale pensiero! Dunque, poiché questa terra non m’offre gioia se non comandare, frenare, soverchiare quelli che sono di persona migliore di me, farò il mio cielo del sognare la corona, e, mentre vivo, del tenere questo mondo per inferno, finché il mio tronco deforme che porta questa testa non sia cinto tutt’intorno d’una gloriosa corona. E tuttavia non so come ottenere la corona, ché molte vite stanno fra me e la meta. E io—come chi si perde in un bosco di spine, che lacera le spine ed è lacerato dalle spine, cercando una via e smarrendo la via, non sapendo come trovare l’aria aperta, ma affannandosi disperatamente a scoprirla— mi tormento per afferrare la corona d’Inghilterra. E da quel tormento mi libererò, o m’aprirò la via con una scure sanguinosa. Ebbene, io so sorridere, e assassinare mentre sorrido, e gridare ‘Contento!’ a ciò che m’affligge il cuore, e bagnarmi le guance di lacrime artificiali, e comporre il mio volto a ogni occasione. Annegherò più marinai di quanti ne annegherà la sirena; ucciderò più spettatori del basilisco; farò l’oratore tanto bene quanto Nestore, ingannerò più astutamente di quanto potesse Ulisse, e, come un Sinone, prenderò un’altra Troia. Posso aggiungere colori al camaleonte, mutar forme con Proteo per averne vantaggio, e mandare a scuola il micidiale Machiavelli. Posso far questo, e non ottenere una corona? Bah, fosse più lontana, la strapperò giù. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Two chairs of state. Flourish. Enter King Louis of France, his sister the Lady Bona, Lord Bourbon his admiral, Prince Edward, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford. Louis goes up upon the state, sits, and riseth up again
KING LOUIS	Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret, Sit down with us. It ill befits thy state And birth that thou shouldst stand while Louis doth sit.
QUEEN MARGARET	No, mighty King of France, now Margaret Must strike her sail and learn a while to serve Where kings command. I was, I must confess, Great Albion’s queen in former golden days, 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 state conform myself.
KING LOUIS	Why, say, fair Queen, whence springs this deep despair ?
QUEEN MARGARET	From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares.
KING LOUIS	Whate’er it be, be thou still like thyself, And sit thee by our side. Seats her by him Yield not thy neck To fortune’s yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief. It shall be eased if France can yield relief.
QUEEN MARGARET	Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts, And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. Now, therefore, be it known to noble Louis That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is of a king become a banished man, And forced 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. An 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 seized, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.
KING LOUIS	Renowned Queen, with patience calm the storm, While we bethink a means to break it off.
QUEEN MARGARET	The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.
KING LOUIS	The more I stay, the more I’ll succour thee.
QUEEN MARGARET	O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick
QUEEN MARGARET	And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.
KING LOUIS	What’s he approacheth boldly to our presence?
QUEEN MARGARET	Our Earl of Warwick, Edward’s greatest friend.
KING LOUIS	Welcome, brave Warwick. What brings thee to France ? He descends. She ariseth
QUEEN MARGARET	(aside) Ay, now begins a second storm to rise, For this is he that moves both wind and tide.
WARWICK	(to King Louis) 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	(aside) If that go forward, Henry’s hope is done.
WARWICK	(to Lady Bona) And, gracious madam, 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 ent‘ring at his heedful ears, Hath placed thy beauty’s image and thy virtue.
QUEEN MARGARET	King Louis 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 Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ? To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice— That Henry liveth still; but were he dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry’s son. Look, therefore, Louis, that by this league and marriage Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour, For though usurpers sway the rule a while, Yet heav’ns are just and time suppresseth wrongs.
WARWICK	Injurious Margaret.
PRINCE EDWARD	And why not ‘Queen’?
WARWICK	Because thy father Henry did usurp, And thou no more art prince than she is queen.
OXFORD	Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain; And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France. From these our Henry lineally descends.
WARWICK	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.
OXFORD	Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, Whom thou obeyedest thirty and six years, And not bewray thy treason with a blush?
WARWICK	Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame—leave Henry, and call Edward king.
OXFORD	Call him my king by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere, Was done to death ? And more than so, my father, Even in the downfall of his mellowed years, When nature brought him to the door of death? No, Warwick, no—while life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
WARWICK	And I the house of York.
KING LOUIS	Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside While I use further conference with Warwick.
(didascalia)	Queen Margaret comes down from the state and, with Prince Edward and Oxford, stands apart
QUEEN MARGARET	Heavens grant that Warwick’s words bewitch him not.
KING LOUIS	Now, Warwick, tell me even upon thy conscience, Is Edward your true king? For I were loath To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
WARWICK	Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.
KING LOUIS	But is he gracious in the people’s eye?
WARWICK	The more that Henry was unfortunate.
KING LOUIS	Then further, all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth the measure of his love Unto our sister Bona.
WARWICK	Such it seems As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say and swear That this his love was an eternal plant, Whereof the root was fixed in virtue’s ground, The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty’s sun, Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.
KING LOUIS	(to Lady Boa) Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.
LADY BONA	Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine. (To Warwick) Yet I confess that often ere this day, When I have heard your king’s desert recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgement to desire.
KING LOUIS	(to Warwick) Then, Warwick, thus—our sister shall be Edward’s. And now, forthwith, shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised. (To Queen Margaret) Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness That Bona shall be wife to the English king.
(didascalia)	Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford come forward
PRINCE EDWARD	To Edward, but not to the English king.
QUEEN MARGARET	Deceitful Warwick—it was thy device By this alliance to make void my suit! Before thy coming Louis was Henry’s friend.
KING LOUIS	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 ’tis but reason that I be released From giving aid which late I promised. Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand That your estate requires and mine can yield.
WARWICK	(to Queen Margaret) Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease, Where having nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain you, And better ’twere you troubled him than France.
QUEEN MARGARET	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 Louis behold Thy sly conveyance and thy lord’s false love, Post blowing a horn within For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
KING LOUIS	Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.
(didascalia)	Enter the Post
POST	(to Warwick) My lord ambassador, these letters are for you, Sent from your brother Marquis Montague; (To Louis) These from our King unto your majesty; (To Queen Margaret) And, madam, these for you, from whom I know not. They all read their letters
OXFORD	(to Prince Edward) I like it well that our fair Queen and mistress Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
PRINCE EDWARD	Nay, mark how Louis stamps as he were nettled. I hope all’s for the best.
KING LOUIS	Warwick, what are thy news ? And yours, fair Queen?
QUEEN MARGARET	Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.
WARWICK	Mine, full of sorrow and heart’s discontent.
KING LOUIS	What! Has your king married the Lady Gray? And now to soothe your forgery and his, Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? Is this th’alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?
QUEEN MARGARET	I told your majesty as much before— This proveth Edward’s love and Warwick’s honesty.
WARWICK	King Louis, I here protest in sight of heaven 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 untimely to his death? Did I let pass th’abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right? And am I guerdoned at the last with shame? Shame on himself, for my desert is honour. And to repair my honour, lost for him, I here renounce him and return to Henry. (To Queen Margaret) 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	Warwick, these words have turned my hate to love, And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.
WARWICK	So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That if King Louis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I’ll undertake to land them on our coast And force the tyrant from his seat by war. ’Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him. And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, He’s very likely now to fall from him For matching more for wanton lust than honour, Or than for strength and safety of our country.
LADY BONA	(to King Louis) Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged, But by thy help to this distressed Queen?
QUEEN MARGARET	(to King Louis) Renowned Prince, how shall poor Henry live Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
LADY BONA	(to King Louis) My quarrel and this English Queen’s are one.
WARWICK	And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours.
KING LOUIS	And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret’s. Therefore at last I firmly am resolved: You shall have aid.
QUEEN MARGARET	Let me give humble thanks for all at once.
KING LOUIS	(to the Post) Then, England’s messenger, return in post And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Louis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride. Thou seest what’s passed, go fear thy king withal.
LADY BONA	(to the Post) Tell him, in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly, I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to the Post) Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside, And I am ready to put armour on.
WARWICK	(to the Post) Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere’t be long. (Giving money) There’s thy reward—be gone.
(didascalia)	Exit Post
KING LOUIS	But, Warwick, thou 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?
WARWICK	This shall assure my constant loyalty : That if our Queen and this young Prince agree, I’ll join mine eldest daughter and my joy To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.
QUEEN MARGARET	Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion. (To Prince Edward) Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, Therefore delay not. Give thy hand to Warwick, And with thy hand thy faith irrevocable That only Warwick’s daughter shall be thine.
PRINCE EDWARD	Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it, And here to pledge my vow I give my hand. He and Warwick clasp hands
KING LOUIS	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Warwick
WARWICK	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? Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that raised him to the crown, And I’ll be chief to bring him down again. Not that I pity Henry’s misery, But seek revenge on Edward’s mockery. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Due troni. Squilli. Entrano re Luigi di Francia, sua sorella madama Bona, lord Borbone suo ammiraglio, il principe Edoardo, la regina Margherita, e il conte di Oxford. Luigi sale sul trono, siede, e si rialza
RE LUIGI	Bella regina d’Inghilterra, degna Margherita, sedete con noi. Mal si addice al tuo stato e alla tua nascita che tu stia in piedi mentre Luigi siede.
REGINA MARGHERITA	No, potente re di Francia, ora Margherita deve ammainare la vela e imparare un poco a servire dove i re comandano. Fui, devo confessarlo, regina della grande Albione nei passati giorni d’oro, ma ora la sventura ha calpestato il mio titolo, e con disonore m’ha stesa al suolo, dove devo prendere seggio pari alla mia fortuna e conformarmi al mio umile stato.
RE LUIGI	Ebbene, dite, bella regina, d’onde nasce questa profonda disperazione ?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Da tal causa che mi colma gli occhi di lacrime e mi ferma la lingua, mentre il cuore è annegato negli affanni.
RE LUIGI	Qualunque sia, sii ancora pari a te stessa, e siedi al nostro fianco. La fa sedere accanto a sé Non piegare il collo al giogo della fortuna, ma il tuo animo indomito cavalchi sempre in trionfo sopra ogni sventura. Sii chiara, regina Margherita, e di’ il tuo dolore. Sarà alleviato se la Francia può recare soccorso.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Quelle parole graziose rianimano i miei pensieri avviliti, e danno licenza di parlare ai miei dolori muti. Ora, dunque, sia noto al nobile Luigi che Enrico, solo possessore del mio amore, da re è divenuto un bandito, e costretto a vivere in Scozia derelitto, mentre il superbo ambizioso Edoardo, duca di York, usurpa il titolo regale e il seggio del vero unto e legittimo re d’Inghilterra. Questa è la causa per cui io, povera Margherita, con questo mio figlio, il principe Edoardo, erede di Enrico, son venuta a implorare il tuo giusto e legittimo aiuto. E se ci manchi, ogni nostra speranza è finita. La Scozia ha volontà d’aiutare, ma non può; il nostro popolo e i nostri pari sono entrambi traviati, il nostro tesoro confiscato, i nostri soldati messi in fuga, e, come vedi, noi stessi in grave stretta.
RE LUIGI	Illustre regina, con pazienza calmate la tempesta, mentre noi pensiamo a un modo di troncarla.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Più indugiamo, più forte cresce il nostro nemico.
RE LUIGI	Più indugio, più ti soccorrerò.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Oh, ma l’impazienza è ancella del vero dolore.
(didascalia)	Entra il conte di Warwick
REGINA MARGHERITA	E guardate dove viene il generatore del mio dolore.
RE LUIGI	Chi è colui che s’avvicina audace alla nostra presenza?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Il nostro conte di Warwick, il maggior amico d’Edoardo.
RE LUIGI	Benvenuto, bravo Warwick. Che ti conduce in Francia ? Egli scende. Ella si alza
REGINA MARGHERITA	(a parte) Sì, ora comincia a sorgere una seconda tempesta, ché questi è colui che muove vento e marea.
WARWICK	(a re Luigi) Da parte del degno Edoardo, re d’Albione, mio signore e sovrano, e tuo amico giurato, vengo con benevolenza e non finto amore, primo, a porgere saluti alla tua regale persona, e poi, a chiedere una lega d’amicizia, e infine, a confermare quell’amicizia con nodo nuziale, se ti degni di concedere quella virtuosa madama Bona, tua bella sorella, al re d’Inghilterra in legittimo matrimonio.
REGINA MARGHERITA	(a parte) Se ciò procede, la speranza di Enrico è finita.
WARWICK	(a madama Bona) E, graziosa signora, in nome del nostro re mi è comandato, col vostro permesso e favore, di baciare umilmente la vostra mano, e con la mia lingua di dire la passione del cuore del mio sovrano, dove la fama, entrata non da molto nelle sue attente orecchie, ha posto l’immagine della vostra bellezza e la vostra virtù.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Re Luigi e madama Bona, ascoltatemi parlare prima di rispondere a Warwick. La sua domanda non nasce da un amore onesto e ben intenzionato d’Edoardo, ma da inganno, generato dalla necessità. Ché come possono i tiranni governare sicuri in patria se non si comprano fuori grandi alleanze ? A provarlo tiranno può bastare questa ragione— che Enrico vive ancora; e fosse pur morto, qui sta il principe Edoardo, figlio di re Enrico. Bada dunque, Luigi, che con questa lega e questo matrimonio tu non tiri su di te pericolo e disonore, ché, sebbene gli usurpatori reggano il potere per un tempo, i cieli però sono giusti e il tempo soffoca i torti.
WARWICK	Oltraggiosa Margherita.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	E perché non ‘regina’?
WARWICK	Perché tuo padre Enrico usurpò, e tu non sei principe più di quanto ella sia regina.
OXFORD	Allora Warwick annulla il grande Giovanni di Gaunt, che soggiogò la maggior parte della Spagna; e, dopo Giovanni di Gaunt, Enrico Quarto, la cui saggezza fu specchio ai più saggi; e, dopo quel saggio principe, Enrico Quinto, che col suo valore conquistò tutta la Francia. Da questi il nostro Enrico discende in linea diretta.
WARWICK	Oxford, come avviene che in questo liscio discorso non hai detto come Enrico Sesto ha perduto tutto ciò che Enrico Quinto aveva conquistato ? Mi pare che questi pari di Francia dovrebbero sorriderne. Ma per il resto, tu esponi una genealogia di sessantadue anni—un tempo risibile per far prescrizione del valore d’un regno.
OXFORD	Ebbene, Warwick, puoi parlare contro il tuo sire, cui obbedisti trentasei anni, e non tradire il tuo tradimento con un rossore?
WARWICK	Può Oxford, che sempre difese il diritto, ora scudare la falsità con una genealogia? Vergogna—lascia Enrico, e chiama Edoardo re.
OXFORD	Chiamare mio re colui per la cui iniqua sentenza il mio fratello maggiore, lord Aubrey Vere, fu messo a morte ? E più ancora, mio padre, proprio nel declinare dei suoi anni maturi, quando la natura lo portava alla porta della morte? No, Warwick, no—finché la vita sostiene questo braccio, questo braccio sostiene la casa di Lancaster.
WARWICK	E io la casa di York.
RE LUIGI	Regina Margherita, principe Edoardo, e Oxford, degnatevi, a nostra richiesta, di stare in disparte mentre io ho ulteriore colloquio con Warwick.
(didascalia)	La regina Margherita scende dal trono e, col principe Edoardo e Oxford, si mette in disparte
REGINA MARGHERITA	Concedano i cieli che le parole di Warwick non lo streghino.
RE LUIGI	Ora, Warwick, dimmi sulla tua coscienza, è Edoardo il vostro vero re? Ché mi ripugnerebbe legarmi a chi non fosse legittimamente eletto.
WARWICK	Su questo impegno il mio credito e il mio onore.
RE LUIGI	Ma è gradito all’occhio del popolo?
WARWICK	Tanto più in quanto Enrico fu sventurato.
RE LUIGI	E poi, messa da parte ogni finzione, dimmi in verità la misura del suo amore verso nostra sorella Bona.
WARWICK	Tale appare quale può convenire a un monarca come lui. Io stesso l’ho spesso udito dire e giurare che questo suo amore era pianta eterna, la cui radice era fissa nel suolo della virtù, le foglie e il frutto nutriti dal sole della bellezza, immune dall’invidia, ma non dal disdegno, se madama Bona non ricambia la sua pena.
RE LUIGI	(a madama Boa) Ora, sorella, udiamo la vostra ferma risoluzione.
MADAMA BONA	Il vostro consenso, o il vostro rifiuto, sarà il mio. (A Warwick) Tuttavia confesso che spesso prima d’oggi, quando ho udito narrare il merito del vostro re, il mio orecchio ha indotto il giudizio al desiderio.
RE LUIGI	(a Warwick) Allora, Warwick, così—nostra sorella sarà d’Edoardo. E ora, senza indugio, siano redatti gli articoli circa l’assegnazione vedovile che il vostro re deve fare, la quale sarà controbilanciata dalla sua dote. (A la regina Margherita) Avvicinatevi, regina Margherita, e siate testimone che Bona sarà moglie del re d’Inghilterra.
(didascalia)	La regina Margherita, il principe Edoardo e Oxford si fanno avanti
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	D’Edoardo, ma non del re d’Inghilterra.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ingannevole Warwick—fu tuo artificio rendere vana con questa alleanza la mia istanza! Prima del tuo arrivo Luigi era amico di Enrico.
RE LUIGI	E ancora è amico di lui e di Margherita. Ma se il vostro titolo alla corona è debole, come può apparire dal buon successo d’Edoardo, è dunque ragionevole che io sia sciolto dal dare l’aiuto che poc’anzi promisi. Avrete tuttavia dalla mia mano ogni cortesia che il vostro stato richiede e il mio può concedere.
WARWICK	(a la regina Margherita) Enrico ora vive in Scozia a suo agio, dove, non avendo nulla, nulla può perdere. E quanto a voi stessa, nostra ex regina, avete un padre in grado di mantenervi, e meglio sarebbe che disturbaste lui anziché la Francia.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Taci, impudente e svergognato Warwick, taci! Superbo innalzatore e abbattitore di re! Non me n’andrò di qui finché, coi miei discorsi e le mie lacrime, entrambi pieni di verità, non faccia vedere a re Luigi il tuo furbo maneggio e il falso amore del tuo signore, Un corriere suona un corno dall’interno ché voi due siete uccelli della medesima penna.
RE LUIGI	Warwick, è un corriere per noi o per te.
(didascalia)	Entra il Corriere
CORRIERE	(a Warwick) Mio signore ambasciatore, queste lettere son per voi, mandate da vostro fratello il marchese di Montague; (A Luigi) Queste dal nostro re a vostra maestà; (A la regina Margherita) e, signora, queste per voi, da chi non so. Leggono tutti le loro lettere
OXFORD	(al principe Edoardo) Mi piace bene che la nostra bella regina e signora sorrida alle sue nuove, mentre Warwick s’acciglia alle proprie.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Anzi, guardate come Luigi pesta i piedi, come se fosse punto. Spero che tutto sia per il meglio.
RE LUIGI	Warwick, quali sono le tue nuove ? E le vostre, bella regina?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Le mie, tali da colmarmi il cuore di gioie insperate.
WARWICK	Le mie, piene di dolore e di scontento del cuore.
RE LUIGI	Come! Il vostro re ha sposato madama Gray? E ora, per lisciare la vostra falsità e la sua, mi manda un foglio a persuadermi alla pazienza? È questa l’alleanza che cerca con la Francia? Osa presumere di schernirci in tal modo?
REGINA MARGHERITA	L’avevo detto a vostra maestà già prima— questo prova l’amore d’Edoardo e l’onestà di Warwick.
WARWICK	Re Luigi, qui protesto al cospetto del cielo e per la speranza che ho della beatitudine celeste, che sono innocente di questo misfatto d’Edoardo, non più mio re, ché disonora me, ma soprattutto sé stesso, se potesse vedere la sua vergogna. Dimenticai io che per la casa di York mio padre giunse innanzi tempo alla sua morte? Lasciai correre l’oltraggio fatto a mia nipote? Non lo cinsi io della regale corona? Non tolsi io a Enrico il suo diritto nativo? E sono ricompensato alla fine con la vergogna? Vergogna su lui stesso, ché il mio merito è onore. E per riparare il mio onore, perduto per lui, qui lo rinnego e torno a Enrico. (A la regina Margherita) Mia nobile regina, passino i vecchi rancori, e d’ora in poi io sono il tuo fedele servitore. Vendicherò il torto fatto a madama Bona e ripianterò Enrico nel suo stato di prima.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Warwick, queste parole hanno mutato il mio odio in amore, e perdono e dimentico affatto le vecchie colpe, e gioisco che tu divenga amico di re Enrico.
WARWICK	Tanto suo amico, sì, suo non finto amico, che se re Luigi si degna di fornirci qualche piccola schiera di soldati scelti, m’impegno a sbarcarli sulla nostra costa e a cacciare il tiranno dal suo seggio con la guerra. Non sarà la sua sposa nuova a soccorrerlo. E quanto a Clarence, come mi dicono le mie lettere, è molto probabile che ora si stacchi da lui per essersi accasato più per libidine sfrenata che per onore, o che per la forza e la sicurezza del nostro paese.
MADAMA BONA	(a re Luigi) Caro fratello, come sarà vendicata Bona, se non col tuo aiuto a questa afflitta regina?
REGINA MARGHERITA	(a re Luigi) Illustre principe, come vivrà il povero Enrico se tu non lo salvi da turpe disperazione?
MADAMA BONA	(a re Luigi) La mia causa e quella di questa regina inglese sono una.
WARWICK	E la mia, bella madama Bona, s’unisce alla vostra.
RE LUIGI	E la mia con la sua, e con la tua, e con quella di Margherita. Perciò infine sono fermamente risoluto: avrete aiuto.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Lasciate ch’io renda umili grazie per tutto insieme.
RE LUIGI	(al Corriere) Allora, messaggero d’Inghilterra, torna in fretta e di’ al falso Edoardo, il tuo presunto re, che Luigi di Francia gli manda mascherati a far festa con lui e con la sua nuova sposa. Hai visto ciò ch’è passato, va’ a spaventare con questo il tuo re.
MADAMA BONA	(al Corriere) Ditegli che, nella speranza che presto sia vedovo, porterò per lui la ghirlanda di salice.
REGINA MARGHERITA	(al Corriere) Ditegli che le mie vesti di lutto son deposte, e che sono pronta a indossare l’armatura.
WARWICK	(al Corriere) Digli da parte mia che m’ha fatto torto, e che perciò lo scoronerò prima che passi molto. (Dandogli denaro) Ecco il tuo compenso—vattene.
(didascalia)	Esce il Corriere
RE LUIGI	Ma, Warwick, tu e Oxford, con cinquemila uomini, varcherete i mari e offrirete battaglia al falso Edoardo; e, quando l’occasione serva, questa nobile regina e il principe seguiranno con nuovo rinforzo. Ma, prima che tu vada, rispondimi a un solo dubbio: che pegno abbiamo della tua ferma lealtà?
WARWICK	Questo assicurerà la mia costante lealtà : che, se la nostra regina e questo giovane principe consentono, unirò la mia figlia maggiore e mia gioia a lui senza indugio nei santi vincoli del matrimonio.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Sì, consento, e vi ringrazio della vostra proposta. (Al principe Edoardo) Figlio Edoardo, ella è bella e virtuosa, perciò non indugiare. Da’ la tua mano a Warwick, e con la tua mano la tua fede irrevocabile che solo la figlia di Warwick sarà tua.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Sì, l’accetto, ché lo merita bene, ed ecco, a pegno del mio voto, do la mia mano. Egli e Warwick si stringono le mani
RE LUIGI	Perché indugiamo ora? Questi soldati saranno arruolati, e tu, lord Borbone, nostro grande ammiraglio, li traghetterai con la nostra regale flotta. Non attendo che il momento in cui Edoardo cada per sventura di guerra per aver deriso il matrimonio con una dama di Francia.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Warwick
WARWICK	Venni da parte d’Edoardo come ambasciatore, ma torno suo nemico giurato e mortale. Questione di matrimonio fu l’incarico che mi diede, ma tremenda guerra risponderà alla sua domanda. Non aveva altri che me da rendere zimbello? Allora nessuno se non io muterà il suo scherzo in dolore. Fui io il primo a innalzarlo alla corona, e sarò il primo a farlo cadere di nuovo. Non che compianga la miseria di Enrico, ma cerco vendetta della beffa d’Edoardo. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester, George Duke of Clarence, the Duke of Somerset, and the Marquis of Montague
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you Of this new marriage with the Lady Gray? Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Alas, you know ’tis far from hence to France; How could he stay till Warwick made return?
SOMERSET	My lords, forbear this talk—here comes the King.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward, the Lady Gray his
SOMERSET	Queen, the Earl of Pembroke, and the Lords
(didascalia)	Stafford and Hastings. Four stand on one side of
(didascalia)	the King, and four on the other
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And his well-chosen bride.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	I mind to tell him plainly what I think.
KING EDWARD	Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice, That you stand pensive, as half-malcontent?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	As well as Louis of France, or the Earl of Warwick, Which are so weak of courage and in judgement That they’ll take no offence at our abuse.
KING EDWARD	Suppose they take offence without a cause— They are but Louis and Warwick; I am Edward, Your king and Warwick’s, and must have my will.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And you shall have your will, because our king. Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
KING EDWARD	Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too ?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Not I, no—God forbid that I should wish them severed Whom God hath joined together. Ay, and ’twere pity To sunder them that yoke so well together.
KING EDWARD	Setting your scorns and your mislike aside, Tell me some reason why the Lady Gray Should not become my wife and England’s queen. And you too, Somerset and Montague, Speak freely what you think.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Then this is my opinion: that King Louis Becomes your enemy for mocking him About the marriage of the Lady Bona.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.
KING EDWARD	What if both Louis and Warwick be appeased By such invention as I can devise?
MONTAGUE	Yet, to have joined with France in such alliance Would more have strengthened this our commonwealth ’Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage.
HASTINGS	Why, knows not Montague that of itself England is safe, if true within itself?
MONTAGUE	But the safer when ’tis backed with France.
HASTINGS	’Tis better using France than trusting France. Let us be backed with God and with the seas Which he hath giv’n for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves. In them and in ourselves our safety lies.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.
KING EDWARD	Ay, what of that? It was my will and grant— And for this once my will shall stand for law.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	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.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Or else you would not have bestowed the heir Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife’s son, And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.
KING EDWARD	Alas, poor Clarence, is it for a wife That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	In choosing for yourself you showed your judgement, Which being shallow, you shall give me leave To play the broker in mine own behalf, And to that end I shortly mind to leave you.
KING EDWARD	Leave me, or tarry. Edward will be king, And not be tied unto his brother’s will.
LADY GRAY	My lords, before it pleased 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 have had like fortune. But as this title honours me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.
KING EDWARD	My love, forbear to fawn 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 for hatred at my hands, Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) I hear, yet say not much, but think the more.
(didascalia)	Enter the Post from France
KING EDWARD	Now, messenger, what letters or what news from France ?
POST	My sovereign liege, no letters and few words, But such as I, without your special pardon, Dare not relate.
KING EDWARD	Go to, we pardon thee. Therefore, in brief, Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. What answer makes King Louis unto our letters?
POST	At my depart these were his very words: ‘Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Louis of France is sending over masquers To revel it with him and his new bride.’
KING EDWARD	Is Louis so brave ? Belike he thinks me Henry. But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?
POST	These were her words, uttered with mild disdain: ‘Tell him in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly, I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.’
KING EDWARD	ame not her, she could say little less; She had the wrong. But what said Henry’s queen? For I have heard that she was there in place.
POST	‘Tell him‘, quoth she, ’my mourning weeds are done, And I am ready to put armour on.’
KING EDWARD	Belike she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwick to these injuries?
POST	He, more incensed against your majesty Than all the rest, discharged me with these words: ‘Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere’t be long.’
KING EDWARD	Ha! Durst the traitor breathe out so proud words? Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarned. They shall have wars and pay for their presumption. But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?
POST	Ay, gracious sovereign, they are so linked in friendship That young Prince Edward marries Warwick’s daughter.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Belike the elder; Clarence will have the 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 I may not prove inferior to yourself. You that love me and Warwick, follow me.
(didascalia)	Exit Clarence, and Somerset follows
(didascalia)	Not I—aside my thoughts aim at a further matter.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	I stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.
KING EDWARD	Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick? Yet am I armed against the worst can happen, And haste is needful in this desp’rate case. Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf Go levy men and make prepare for war. They are already, or quickly will be, landed. Myself in person will straight follow you.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Pembroke and Stafford
KING EDWARD	But ere I go, Hastings and Montague, Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, Are near’st to Warwick 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.
MONTAGUE	So God help Montague as he proves true.
HASTINGS	And Hastings as he favours Edward’s cause.
KING EDWARD	Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.
KING EDWARD	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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Riccardo duca di Gloucester, Giorgio duca di Clarence, il duca di Somerset, e il marchese di Montague
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Ora dimmi, fratello Clarence, che pensi di questo nuovo matrimonio con madama Gray? Non ha fatto nostro fratello una scelta degna ?
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Ahimè, sapete che di qui alla Francia è lontano; come poteva attendere che Warwick tornasse?
SOMERSET	Signori, cessate questo discorso—ecco viene il re.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entrano re Edoardo, madama Gray sua
SOMERSET	regina, il conte di Pembroke, e i lord
(didascalia)	Stafford e Hastings. Quattro stanno da un lato del
(didascalia)	re, e quattro dall’altro
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	E la sua ben scelta sposa.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Intendo dirgli chiaramente ciò che penso.
RE EDOARDO	Ora, fratello di Clarence, come vi piace la nostra scelta, che ve ne state pensoso, come mezzo malcontento?
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Tanto bene quanto a Luigi di Francia, o al conte di Warwick, che sono così debolissimi di coraggio e di giudizio che non si offenderanno del nostro oltraggio.
RE EDOARDO	Poniamo che s’offendano senza causa— non sono che Luigi e Warwick; io sono Edoardo, vostro re e di Warwick, e devo avere la mia volontà.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	E avrete la vostra volontà, perché siete il nostro re. Tuttavia un matrimonio affrettato riesce raramente bene.
RE EDOARDO	Ebbene, fratello Riccardo, siete offeso anche voi ?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Non io, no—Dio non voglia ch’io desideri separati quelli che Dio ha congiunti. Sì, e sarebbe un peccato disgiungere quelli che s’accoppiano così bene.
RE EDOARDO	Messi da parte i vostri scherni e la vostra avversione, ditemi qualche ragione per cui madama Gray non debba divenire mia moglie e regina d’Inghilterra. E anche voi, Somerset e Montague, dite liberamente ciò che pensate.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Allora questa è la mia opinione: che re Luigi diviene vostro nemico per averlo deriso circa il matrimonio con madama Bona.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	E Warwick, facendo ciò che gli avete affidato, è ora disonorato da questo nuovo matrimonio.
RE EDOARDO	E se sia Luigi sia Warwick fossero placati con qualche invenzione che io possa escogitare?
MONTAGUE	Tuttavia, essersi uniti alla Francia in tale alleanza avrebbe rafforzato più questa nostra repubblica contro le tempeste straniere di qualunque matrimonio nato in patria.
HASTINGS	Ebbene, non sa Montague che da sé l’Inghilterra è sicura, se è fedele dentro di sé?
MONTAGUE	Ma più sicura quando è sostenuta dalla Francia.
HASTINGS	È meglio usare la Francia che fidarsi della Francia. Siamo sostenuti da Dio e dai mari che egli ci ha dato come baluardo inespugnabile, e con quei soli aiuti difendiamo noi stessi. In essi e in noi stessi sta la nostra salvezza.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Per questo solo discorso lord Hastings merita bene d’avere l’erede del lord Hungerford.
RE EDOARDO	Sì, e che importa? Fu mia volontà e mia concessione— e per questa volta la mia volontà valga per legge.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	E tuttavia, mi pare, vostra grazia non ha fatto bene a dare l’erede e figlia del lord Scales al fratello della vostra amata sposa. Meglio si sarebbe adattata a me o a Clarence, ma nella vostra sposa sepellite la fratellanza.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	O altrimenti non avreste concesso l’erede del lord Bonville al figlio della vostra nuova moglie, lasciando i vostri fratelli a cercar fortuna altrove.
RE EDOARDO	Ahimè, povero Clarence, è per una moglie che sei malcontento? Ti provvederò io.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Scegliendo per voi stesso mostraste il vostro giudizio, il quale, essendo scarso, mi permetterete di far da mezzano in mio proprio favore, e a tal fine intendo lasciarvi presto.
RE EDOARDO	Lasciami, o resta. Edoardo sarà re, e non sarà legato alla volontà del fratello.
MADAMA GRAY	Signori, prima che piacesse a sua maestà innalzare il mio stato al titolo di regina, fatemi solo giustizia, e dovrete tutti confessare che non ero di nascita ignobile— e più umili di me hanno avuto simile fortuna. Ma come questo titolo onora me e i miei, così le vostre avversioni, a voi cui vorrei piacere, annuvolano le mie gioie di pericolo e di dolore.
RE EDOARDO	Amore mio, non blandire i loro cipigli. Quale pericolo o quale dolore può coglierti fintanto che Edoardo è il tuo costante amico, e il loro vero sovrano, cui devono obbedire? Anzi, cui obbediranno, e ameranno anche te— a meno che non cerchino l’odio dalle mie mani, e se lo fanno, io ti terrò tuttavia al sicuro, ed essi sentiranno la vendetta della mia ira.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte) Odo, e non dico molto, ma penso di più.
(didascalia)	Entra il Corriere dalla Francia
RE EDOARDO	Ora, messaggero, quali lettere o quali nuove dalla Francia ?
CORRIERE	Mio sovrano sire, nessuna lettera e poche parole, ma tali che io, senza il vostro speciale perdono, non oso riferire.
RE EDOARDO	Su, ti perdoniamo. Dunque, in breve, dimmi le loro parole quanto più esatte puoi ricordarle. Che risposta dà re Luigi alle nostre lettere?
CORRIERE	Alla mia partenza queste furono le sue precise parole: ‘Va’ a dire al falso Edoardo, il tuo presunto re, che Luigi di Francia gli manda mascherati a far festa con lui e con la sua nuova sposa.’
RE EDOARDO	È così bravo Luigi ? Certo mi crede Enrico. Ma che disse madama Bona del mio matrimonio?
CORRIERE	Queste furono le sue parole, dette con mite disdegno: ‘Ditegli che, nella speranza che presto sia vedovo, porterò per lui la ghirlanda di salice.’
RE EDOARDO	on la biasimo, poteva dire poco di meno; ella ebbe il torto. Ma che disse la regina di Enrico? Ché ho udito ch’era là presente.
CORRIERE	‘Ditegli‘, disse ella, ’che le mie vesti di lutto son finite, e che sono pronta a indossare l’armatura.’
RE EDOARDO	Certo intende far l’amazzone. Ma che disse Warwick a queste offese?
CORRIERE	Egli, più incollerito contro vostra maestà di tutti gli altri, mi licenziò con queste parole: ‘Digli da parte mia che m’ha fatto torto, e che perciò lo scoronerò prima che passi molto.’
RE EDOARDO	Ah! Osò il traditore esalare parole così superbe? Bene, m’armerò, essendo così avvertito. Avranno guerre e pagheranno la loro presunzione. Ma di’, Warwick è amico di Margherita?
CORRIERE	Sì, grazioso sovrano, sono così legati in amicizia che il giovane principe Edoardo sposa la figlia di Warwick.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Certo la maggiore; Clarence avrà la minore. Ora, fratello re, addio, e state saldo, ché io me n’andrò dall’altra figlia di Warwick, sì che, pur mancandomi un regno, nel matrimonio io non riesca inferiore a voi stesso. Voi che amate me e Warwick, seguitemi.
(didascalia)	Esce Clarence, e Somerset lo segue
(didascalia)	Non io—a parte i miei pensieri mirano a più lontana cosa.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Io resto non per l’amore d’Edoardo, ma per la corona.
RE EDOARDO	Clarence e Somerset entrambi andati a Warwick? Tuttavia sono armato contro il peggio che possa avvenire, e la fretta è necessaria in questo caso disperato. Pembroke e Stafford, voi in nostro nome andate ad arruolare uomini e a preparare la guerra. Essi sono già sbarcati, o presto lo saranno. Io stesso in persona vi seguirò subito.
(didascalia)	Escono Pembroke e Stafford
RE EDOARDO	Ma prima ch’io vada, Hastings e Montague, risolvete il mio dubbio. Voi due, di tutti gli altri, siete i più prossimi a Warwick per sangue e per alleanza. Ditemi se amate Warwick più di me. Se è così, andate entrambi da lui— preferisco avervi nemici che amici falsi. Ma se intendete mantenere la vostra vera obbedienza, datemi assicurazione con qualche amichevole voto ch’io non v’abbia mai in sospetto.
MONTAGUE	Così Dio aiuti Montague come egli si mostra fedele.
HASTINGS	E Hastings come egli favorisce la causa d’Edoardo.
RE EDOARDO	Ora, fratello Riccardo, starete con noi?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Sì, a dispetto di tutti quelli che vi si opporranno.
RE EDOARDO	Ecco, così. Allora sono certo della vittoria. Ora, dunque, andiamo di qui e non perdiamo un’ora finché non incontriamo Warwick con la sua forza straniera. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earls of Warwick and Oxford in England, with French soldiers
WARWICK	Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well. The common sort by numbers swarm to us.
(didascalia)	Enter the Dukes of Clarence and Somerset
WARWICK	But see where Somerset and Clarence comes. Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends ?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Fear not that, my lord.
WARWICK	Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick— And welcome, Somerset. I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawned 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 come, sweet Clarence, my daughter shall be thine. And now what rests but, in night’s coverture, Thy brother being carelessly encamped, 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 Diomed With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus’ tents And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds, So we, well covered 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 Saint George!
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano i conti di Warwick e di Oxford in Inghilterra, con soldati francesi
WARWICK	Credetemi, mio signore, tutto finora va bene. La gente comune sciama a noi a schiere.
(didascalia)	Entrano i duchi di Clarence e di Somerset
WARWICK	Ma guardate dove vengono Somerset e Clarence. Parlate subito, signori, siamo tutti amici ?
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Non temete di ciò, mio signore.
WARWICK	Allora, gentile Clarence, benvenuto presso Warwick— e benvenuto, Somerset. Tengo per codardia restar diffidente là dove un nobile cuore ha impegnato una mano aperta in segno d’amore, altrimenti potrei pensare che Clarence, fratello d’Edoardo, fosse solo un finto amico dei nostri disegni. Ma vieni, dolce Clarence, mia figlia sarà tua. E ora che resta se non che, sotto la copertura della notte, essendo tuo fratello accampato senza cautela, i suoi soldati sparsi nelle città d’intorno, e assistito solo da una semplice guardia, possiamo sorprenderlo e prenderlo a nostro piacere? I nostri esploratori han trovato l’impresa molto facile; sì che, come Ulisse e il gagliardo Diomede con astuzia e valore s’insinuarono nelle tende di Reso e ne portarono via i fatali destrieri di Tracia, così noi, ben coperti dal nero mantello della notte, possiamo all’improvviso abbattere la guardia d’Edoardo e afferrare lui stesso—non dico ‘trucidarlo’, ché intendo soltanto sorprenderlo. Voi che volete seguirmi in questo tentativo, acclamate col vostro capo il nome di Enrico. Tutti gridano ‘Enrico’ Ebbene, allora avviamoci in silenzio, per Warwick e i suoi amici, Dio e san Giorgio!
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter three Watchmen, to guard King Edward’s tent
FIRST WATCHMAN	Come on, my masters, each man take his stand. The King by this is set him down to sleep.
SECOND WATCHMAN	What, will he not to bed?
FIRST WATCHMAN	Why, no—for he hath made a solemn vow Never to lie and take his natural rest Till Warwick or himself be quite suppressed.
SECOND WATCHMAN	Tomorrow then belike shall be the day, If Warwick be so near as men report.
THIRD WATCHMAN	But say, I pray, what nobleman is that That with the King here resteth in his tent?
FIRST WATCHMAN	’Tis the Lord Hastings, the King’s chiefest friend.
THIRD WATCHMAN	O, is it so ? But why commands the King That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, While he himself keeps in the cold field?
SECOND WATCHMAN	’Tis the more honour, because more dangerous.
THIRD WATCHMAN	Ay, but give me worship and quietness— I like it better than a dangerous honour. If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, ’Tis to be doubted he would waken him.
FIRST WATCHMAN	Unless our halberds did shut up his passage.
SECOND WATCHMAN	Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent But to defend his person from night-foes?
(didascalia)	Enter silently the Earl of Warwick, George Duke of
SECOND WATCHMAN	Clarence, the Earl of Oxford, and the Duke of Somerset, with French soldiers
WARWICK	This is his tent—and see where stand his guard. Courage, my masters—honour now or never! But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
FIRST WATCHMAN	Who goes there?
SECOND WATCHMAN	Stay or thou diest. Warwick and the rest all cry ‘Warwick, Warwick!’ and set upon the guard, who fly, crying ‘Arm, arm!’ Warwick and the rest follow them

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano tre Sentinelle, a guardia della tenda di re Edoardo
PRIMA SENTINELLA	Avanti, padroni miei, ognuno prenda il suo posto. Il re a quest’ora s’è coricato a dormire.
SECONDA SENTINELLA	Che, non andrà a letto?
PRIMA SENTINELLA	Ebbene, no—ché ha fatto solenne voto di non coricarsi mai né prendere il suo naturale riposo finché Warwick o egli stesso non sia del tutto abbattuto.
SECONDA SENTINELLA	Domani, allora, sarà probabilmente il giorno, se Warwick è così vicino come si dice.
TERZA SENTINELLA	Ma dite, vi prego, chi è quel gentiluomo che qui riposa col re nella sua tenda?
PRIMA SENTINELLA	È lord Hastings, il maggiore amico del re.
TERZA SENTINELLA	Oh, è così ? Ma perché comanda il re che i suoi principali seguaci alloggino nelle città intorno a lui, mentre egli stesso si tiene nel freddo campo?
SECONDA SENTINELLA	È tanto più onore, perché più pericoloso.
TERZA SENTINELLA	Sì, ma a me date onore e quiete— li preferisco a un onore pericoloso. Se Warwick sapesse in quale stato egli si trova, c’è da dubitare che lo sveglierebbe.
PRIMA SENTINELLA	A meno che le nostre alabarde non gli chiudessero il passo.
SECONDA SENTINELLA	Sì, e perché altrimenti custodiamo la sua regale tenda se non per difendere la sua persona dai nemici della notte?
(didascalia)	Entrano silenziosamente il conte di Warwick, Giorgio duca di
SECONDA SENTINELLA	Clarence, il conte di Oxford, e il duca di Somerset, con soldati francesi
WARWICK	Questa è la sua tenda—e guardate dove sta la sua guardia. Coraggio, padroni miei—onore ora o mai più! Seguitemi soltanto, ed Edoardo sarà nostro.
PRIMA SENTINELLA	Chi va là?
SECONDA SENTINELLA	Fermo o muori. Warwick e gli altri gridano tutti ‘Warwick, Warwick!’ e assalgono la guardia, che fugge, gridando ‘All’armi, all’armi!’ Warwick e gli altri li seguono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	With the drummer playing and trumpeter sounding, enter the Earl of Warwick, the Duke of Somerset, and the rest bringing King Edward out in his gown, sitting in a chair. Richard Duke of Gloucester and Lord Hastings flies over the stage
SOMERSET	What are they that fly there?
WARWICK	Richard and Hastings—let them go. Here is the Duke.
KING EDWARD	‘The Duke’! Why, Warwick, when we parted, Thou calledst me king.
WARWICK	Ay, but the case is altered. When you disgraced me in my embassade, 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 how to use your brothers brotherly, Nor how to study for the people’s welfare, Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?
KING EDWARD	(seeing George) 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 compass of her wheel.
WARWICK	Then, for his mind, be Edward England’s king. Warwick takes off Edward’s crown But Henry now shall wear the English crown, And be true king indeed, thou but the shadow. My lord of Somerset, at my request, See that, forthwith, Duke Edward be conveyed Unto my brother, Archbishop of York. When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, I’ll follow you, and tell what answer Louis and the Lady Bona send to him. Now for a while farewell, good Duke of York. They begin to lead Edward out forcibly
KING EDWARD	What fates impose, that men must needs abide. It boots not to resist both wind and tide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some with Edward
OXFORD	What now remains, my lords, for us to do But march to London with our soldiers?
WARWICK	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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Col tamburino che suona e il trombettiere che squilla, entrano il conte di Warwick, il duca di Somerset, e gli altri, portando fuori re Edoardo in veste da camera, seduto su una sedia. Riccardo duca di Gloucester e lord Hastings fuggono attraverso la scena
SOMERSET	Chi sono quelli che fuggono là?
WARWICK	Riccardo e Hastings—lasciateli andare. Ecco il duca.
RE EDOARDO	‘Il duca’! Ebbene, Warwick, quando ci separammo, tu mi chiamavi re.
WARWICK	Sì, ma il caso è mutato. Quando mi svergognaste nella mia ambasciata, allora io vi degradai dall’esser re, e vengo ora a crearvi duca di York. Ahimè, come potreste governare un qualsiasi regno, voi che non sapete come usare gli ambasciatori, né come contentarvi d’una sola moglie, né come trattare fraternamente i vostri fratelli, né come studiare il bene del popolo, né come guardarvi dai nemici?
RE EDOARDO	(vedendo Giorgio) Ah, fratello di Clarence, sei anche tu qui? Ebbene, allora vedo che Edoardo deve cadere. Tuttavia, Warwick, a dispetto d’ogni sventura, di te stesso e di tutti i tuoi complici, Edoardo si porterà sempre come re. Sebbene la malizia della fortuna abbatta il mio stato, il mio animo eccede il giro della sua ruota.
WARWICK	Allora, per il suo animo, sia Edoardo re d’Inghilterra. Warwick toglie la corona a Edoardo Ma Enrico ora porterà la corona inglese, e sarà vero re in effetti, tu soltanto l’ombra. Mio signore di Somerset, a mia richiesta, fate che, senza indugio, il duca Edoardo sia condotto presso mio fratello, arcivescovo di York. Quando avrò combattuto con Pembroke e i suoi compagni, vi seguirò, e dirò quale risposta Luigi e madama Bona gli mandano. Ora per un poco addio, buon duca di York. Cominciano a condurre fuori Edoardo con la forza
RE EDOARDO	Ciò che i fati impongono, gli uomini devono sopportarlo. Non giova resistere a vento e marea insieme.
(didascalia)	Escono alcuni con Edoardo
OXFORD	Che resta ora, signori, da fare a noi se non marciare su Londra coi nostri soldati?
WARWICK	Sì, è la prima cosa che abbiamo da fare— liberare re Enrico dalla prigionia e vederlo insediato sul regale trono. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Earl Rivers and his sister, Lady Gray, Edward’s queen
RIVERS	Madam, what makes you in this sudden change?
LADY GRAY	Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn What late misfortune is befall’n King Edward?
RIVERS	What? Loss of some pitched battle against Warwick?
LADY GRAY	No, but the loss of his own royal person.
RIVERS	Then is my sovereign slain?
LADY GRAY	Ay, almost stain—for he is taken prisoner, Either betrayed 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.
RIVERS	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.
LADY GRAY	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 many a tear 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 th’English crown.
RIVERS	But, madam, where is Warwick then become?
LADY GRAY	I am informed that he comes towards 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’ll 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. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il conte Rivers e sua sorella, madama Gray, regina d’Edoardo
RIVERS	Signora, che vi fa così d’improvviso mutata?
MADAMA GRAY	Ebbene, fratello Rivers, dovete ancora apprendere quale recente sventura è caduta su re Edoardo?
RIVERS	Che? La perdita di qualche battaglia campale contro Warwick?
MADAMA GRAY	No, ma la perdita della sua stessa regale persona.
RIVERS	Allora il mio sovrano è ucciso?
MADAMA GRAY	Sì, quasi macchiato—ché è preso prigioniero, o tradito dalla falsità della sua guardia o sorpreso alla sprovvista dal suo nemico, e, per quanto ho potuto oltre capire, è ora affidato al vescovo di York, fratello del feroce Warwick, e per ciò nostro nemico.
RIVERS	Queste nuove, devo confessarlo, sono piene di dolore. Tuttavia, graziosa signora, sopportatelo come potete. Warwick può perdere, lui che ora ha vinto la giornata.
MADAMA GRAY	Fino allora la bella speranza deve impedire il disfacimento della vita, e tanto più mi svezzo dalla disperazione per amore della prole d’Edoardo nel mio ventre. È questo che mi fa frenare la passione e portare con mitezza la croce della mia sventura. Sì, sì, per questo ricaccio dentro più d’una lacrima e arresto il salire di sospiri che succhiano il sangue, perché coi miei sospiri o con le mie lacrime non arda o non anneghi il frutto di re Edoardo, vero erede della corona d’Inghilterra.
RIVERS	Ma, signora, dov’è Warwick andato allora?
MADAMA GRAY	Sono informata che viene verso Londra per porre ancora una volta la corona sul capo di Enrico. Indovina il resto—gli amici di re Edoardo devono cadere. Ma per prevenire la violenza del tiranno— ché non fidarti di chi ha già una volta rotto la fede— me n’andrò subito di qui al santuario, per salvare almeno l’erede del diritto d’Edoardo. Là starò al sicuro da forza e da frode. Vieni, dunque, fuggiamo mentre possiamo fuggire. Se Warwick ci prende, siamo certi di morire. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Duke of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley, with soldiers
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Now my lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley, Leave off 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 advertised 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.
(didascalia)	Enter King Edward and a Huntsman with him
HUNTSMAN	This way, my lord—for this way lies the game.
KING EDWARD	Nay, this way, man—see where the huntsmen stand. Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Stand you thus close to steal the Bishop’s deer?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Brother, the time and case requireth haste. Your horse stands ready at the park corner.
KING EDWARD	But whither shall we then?
HASTINGS	To Lynn, my lord, And shipped from thence to Flanders.
(didascalia)	RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER aside
HASTINGS	Well guessed, believe me—for that was my meaning.
KING EDWARD	Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	But wherefore stay we? ’Tis no time to talk.
KING EDWARD	Huntsman, what sayst thou? Wilt thou go along?
HUNTSMAN	Better do so than tarry and be hanged.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Come then, away—let’s have no more ado.
KING EDWARD	Bishop, farewell—shield thee from Warwick’s frown, And pray that I may repossess the crown. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Riccardo duca di Gloucester, lord Hastings, e sir William Stanley, con soldati
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Ora, mio lord Hastings e sir William Stanley, cessate di meravigliarvi perché v’ho condotti qui in questo folto più profondo del parco. Il caso sta così: sapete che il nostro re, mio fratello, è prigioniero del vescovo qui, dalle cui mani riceve buon trattamento e grande libertà, e, spesso accompagnato da debole scorta, viene a caccia per questa via a diportarsi. L’ho avvertito per segrete vie che se verso quest’ora prende questa strada sotto il pretesto della sua caccia usuale, troverà qui i suoi amici con cavalli e uomini per liberarlo dalla sua cattività.
(didascalia)	Entrano re Edoardo e con lui un Cacciatore
CACCIATORE	Per qui, mio signore—ché per qui sta la selvaggina.
RE EDOARDO	No, per qui, uomo—guarda dove stanno i cacciatori. Ora, fratello di Gloucester, lord Hastings, e voi altri, state così appostati per rubare i cervi del vescovo?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Fratello, il tempo e il caso richiedono fretta. Il vostro cavallo è pronto all’angolo del parco.
RE EDOARDO	Ma dove andremo poi?
HASTINGS	A Lynn, mio signore, e di là imbarcati per le Fiandre.
(didascalia)	RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER a parte
HASTINGS	Bene indovinato, credetemi—ché era proprio il mio pensiero.
RE EDOARDO	Stanley, ricompenserò la tua premura.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Ma perché indugiamo? Non è tempo di parlare.
RE EDOARDO	Cacciatore, che dici tu? Vuoi venire con noi?
CACCIATORE	Meglio farlo che restare ed essere impiccato.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Vieni allora, via—non facciamo più indugi.
RE EDOARDO	Vescovo, addio—guàrdati dal cipiglio di Warwick, e prega ch’io possa riavere la corona. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter the Earl of Warwick and George Duke of Clarence with the crown. Then enter King Henry, the Earl of Oxford, the Duke of Somerset withl young Henry Ear of Richmond, the Marquis of Montague, and the Lieutenant of the Tower
KING HENRY	Master Lieutenant, now that God and friends Have shaken Edward from the regal seat And turned my captive state to liberty, My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys, At our enlargement what are thy due fees?
LIEUTENANT	Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns— But if an humble prayer may prevail, I then crave pardon of your majesty.
KING HENRY	For what, Lieutenant? For well using me? Nay, be thou sure I’ll well requite thy kindness, For that it made my prisonment a pleasure— Ay, such a pleasure as encagèd birds Conceive when, after many moody thoughts, At last by notes of household harmony They quite forget their loss of liberty. But, Warwick, 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 punished with my thwarting stars, Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, I here resign my government to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
WARWICK	Your grace hath still been famed 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 when Clarence is in place.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the heav’ns in thy nativity Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown, As likely to be blest in peace and war. And therefore I yield thee my free consent.
WARWICK	And I choose Clarence only for Protector.
KING HENRY	Warwick and Clarence, give me both your hands. Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts, That no dissension 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 creator’s praise.
WARWICK	What answers Clarence to his sovereign’s will?
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	That he consents, if Warwick yield consent, For on thy fortune I repose myself.
WARWICK	Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content. We’ll 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 pronounced a traitor, And all his lands and goods be confiscate.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	What else? And that succession be determined.
WARWICK	Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part.
KING HENRY	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 eclipsed.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed.
KING HENRY	My lord of Somerset, what youth is that Of whom you seem to have so tender care?
SOMERSET	My liege, it is young Henry, Earl of Richmond.
KING HENRY	Come hither, England’s hope. King Henry lays his hand on Richmond’s head If secret powers Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, This pretty lad will prove our country’s bliss. His looks are full of peaceful majesty, His head by nature framed to wear a crown, His hand to wield a sceptre, 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.
(didascalia)	Enter a Post
WARWICK	What news, my friend?
POST	That Edward is escaped from your brother And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.
WARWICK	Unsavoury news—but how made he escape ?
POST	He was conveyed by Richard Duke of Gloucester 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.
WARWICK	My brother was too careless of his charge. (To King Henry) But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide A salve for any sore that may betide.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford
SOMERSET	(to Oxford) 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 conflicts, What may befall him, to his harm and ours. Therefore, Lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, Forthwith we’ll send him hence to Brittany, Till storms be past of civil enmity.
OXFORD	Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown, ’Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down.
SOMERSET	It shall be so—he shall to Brittany. Come, therefore, let’s about it speedily. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entrano il conte di Warwick e Giorgio duca di Clarence con la corona. Poi entrano re Enrico, il conte di Oxford, il duca di Somerset col giovane Enrico conte di Richmond, il marchese di Montague, e il Luogotenente della Torre
RE ENRICO	Signor Luogotenente, ora che Dio e gli amici hanno scrollato Edoardo dal seggio regale e volto il mio stato di prigioniero in libertà, il mio timore in speranza, i miei dolori in gioie, alla nostra liberazione quali sono le vostre spettanze?
LUOGOTENENTE	I sudditi non possono esigere nulla dai loro sovrani— ma se un’umile preghiera può prevalere, allora chiedo perdono a vostra maestà.
RE ENRICO	Di che, Luogotenente? Per avermi ben trattato? No, siate certo che ricompenserò bene la vostra cortesia, ché essa fece della mia prigionia un piacere— sì, tal piacere quale concepiscono gli uccelli in gabbia quando, dopo molti pensieri malinconici, alfine, per note d’armonia domestica, dimenticano affatto la loro perduta libertà. Ma, Warwick, dopo Dio, tu mi liberasti, e principalmente perciò ringrazio Dio e te. Egli fu l’autore, tu lo strumento. Perciò, affinché io vinca il dispetto della fortuna vivendo in basso, dove la fortuna non può ferirmi, e affinché il popolo di questa terra benedetta non sia punito per le mie stelle avverse, Warwick, sebbene il mio capo porti ancora la corona, io qui rassegno a te il mio governo, ché tu sei fortunato in tutte le tue azioni.
WARWICK	Vostra grazia è sempre stata famosa per virtù, e ora può sembrare tanto saggia quanto virtuosa nello scorgere ed evitare la malizia della fortuna, ché pochi uomini si temperano rettamente con le stelle. Tuttavia in questa sola cosa lasciate ch’io biasimi vostra grazia: d’aver scelto me quando Clarence è presente.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	No, Warwick, tu sei degno del potere, tu a cui i cieli nella tua nascita assegnarono un ramo d’olivo e una corona di lauro, come destinato a esser benedetto in pace e in guerra. E perciò io ti do il mio libero consenso.
WARWICK	E io scelgo Clarence come solo Protettore.
RE ENRICO	Warwick e Clarence, datemi entrambi le vostre mani. Ora unite le vostre mani, e con le mani i vostri cuori, sì che nessuna discordia impedisca il governo. Vi faccio entrambi Protettori di questa terra, mentre io stesso condurrò vita privata e in devozione spenderò i miei ultimi giorni, a rimprovero del peccato e a lode del mio creatore.
WARWICK	Che risponde Clarence alla volontà del suo sovrano?
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Che consente, se Warwick dà consenso, ché sulla tua fortuna io mi riposo.
WARWICK	Ebbene, allora, sebbene a contraggenio, devo essere contento. Ci aggiogheremo insieme, come doppia ombra al corpo di Enrico, e ne terremo il luogo— intendo nel portare il peso del governo— mentre egli goda l’onore e il suo agio. E, Clarence, ora è più che necessario che senza indugio Edoardo sia dichiarato traditore, e tutte le sue terre e i suoi beni confiscati.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Che altro? E che la successione sia stabilita.
WARWICK	Sì, e in questo Clarence non mancherà della sua parte.
RE ENRICO	Ma fra i primi di tutti i vostri principali affari, lasciate ch’io supplichi—ché non comando più— che Margherita vostra regina e mio figlio Edoardo siano mandati a chiamare, per tornare dalla Francia in fretta. Ché, finché non li vedo qui, per dubbioso timore la mia gioia della libertà è mezzo eclissata.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Sarà fatto, mio sovrano, con ogni prestezza.
RE ENRICO	Mio signore di Somerset, chi è quel giovane di cui sembrate avere così tenera cura?
SOMERSET	Mio sire, è il giovane Enrico, conte di Richmond.
RE ENRICO	Vieni qua, speranza d’Inghilterra. Re Enrico posa la mano sul capo di Richmond Se potenze segrete suggeriscono verità ai miei pensieri divinatori, questo bel fanciullo sarà la felicità del nostro paese. Il suo aspetto è pieno di pacifica maestà, il suo capo dalla natura foggiato a portare una corona, la sua mano a reggere uno scettro, ed egli stesso destinato col tempo a benedire un trono regale. Tenetelo caro, signori, ché questi è colui che dovrà aiutarvi più di quanto io v’abbia nuociuto.
(didascalia)	Entra un Corriere
WARWICK	Che nuove, amico mio?
CORRIERE	Che Edoardo è fuggito da vostro fratello e scappato, come poi ha udito, in Borgogna.
WARWICK	Nuove ingrate—ma come fece a fuggire ?
CORRIERE	Fu condotto via da Riccardo duca di Gloucester e da lord Hastings, che l’attendevano in segreto agguato al margine della foresta e lo strapparono ai cacciatori del vescovo— ché la caccia era il suo esercizio quotidiano.
WARWICK	Mio fratello fu troppo negligente della sua custodia. (A re Enrico) Ma andiamo di qui, mio sovrano, a provvedere un unguento per qualunque piaga possa sopravvenire.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Somerset, Richmond e Oxford
SOMERSET	(a Oxford) Mio signore, non mi piace questa fuga d’Edoardo, ché senza dubbio la Borgogna gli darà aiuto, e avremo altre guerre prima che passi molto. Come la profezia presaga poc’anzi di Enrico rallegrò il mio cuore con la speranza di questo giovane Richmond, così il mio cuore mi presagisce male, in questi conflitti, di ciò che può accadergli, a suo danno e nostro. Perciò, lord Oxford, per prevenire il peggio, senza indugio lo manderemo di qui in Bretagna, finché non siano passate le tempeste dell’inimicizia civile.
OXFORD	Sì, ché se Edoardo riprende la corona, è probabile che Richmond con gli altri cada.
SOMERSET	Sarà così—andrà in Bretagna. Venite, dunque, mettiamoci all’opera in fretta. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and Lord Hastings, With a troop of Hollanders
KING EDWARD	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 passed and now repassed the seas And brought desired help from Burgundy. What then remains, we being thus arrived From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York, But that we enter, as into our dukedom ?
(didascalia)	Hastings knocks at the gates of York
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	The gates made fast? Brother, I like not this. For many men that stumble at the threshold Are well foretold that danger lurks within.
KING EDWARD	Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us. By fair or foul means we must enter in, For hither will our friends repair to us.
HASTINGS	My liege, I’ll knock once more to summon them. He knocks. Enter, on the walls, the Mayor and aldermen of York
MAYOR	My lords, we were forewarned of your coming, And shut the gates for safety of oursetves— For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.
KING EDWARD	But, Master Mayor, if Henry be your king, Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York.
MAYOR	True, my good lord, I know you for no less.
KING EDWARD	Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom, As being well content with that alone.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) But when the fox hath once got in his nose, He’ll soon find means to make the body follow.
HASTINGS	Why, Master Mayor, why stand you in a doubt? Open the gates—we are King Henry’s friends.
MAYOR	Ay, say you so? The gates shall then be opened. They descend
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded.
HASTINGS	The good old man would fain that all were well, So ’twere not long of him; but being entered, I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade Both him and all his brothers unto reason.
(didascalia)	Enter below the Mayor and two aldermen
KING EDWARD	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, King Edward takes some keys from the Mayor For Edward will defend the town and thee, And all those friends that deign to follow me. March. Enter Sir John Montgomery with a drummer and soldiers
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.
KING EDWARD	Welcome, Sir John—but why come you in arms?
MONTGOMERY	To help King Edward in his time of storm, As every loyal subject ought to do.
KING EDWARD	Thanks, good Montgomery, but we now forget Our title to the crown, and only claim Our dukedom till God please to send the rest.
MONTGOMERY	Then fare you well, for I will hence again. I came to serve a king and not a duke. Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. 50 The drummer begins to sound a march
KING EDWARD	Nay, stay, Sir John, a while, and we’ll debate By what safe means the crown may be recovered.
MONTGOMERY	What talk you of debating? In few words, If you’ll not here proclaim yourself our king I’ll leave you to your fortune and be gone To keep them back that come to succour you. Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to King Edward) Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points?
KING EDWARD	When we grow stronger, then we’ll make our claim. Till then ’tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
HASTINGS	Away with scrupulous wit! Now arms must rule.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand, The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
KING EDWARD	Then be it as you will, for ’tis my right, And Henry but usurps the diadem.
MONTGOMERY	Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself, And now will I be Edward’s champion.
(didascalia)	Sound trumpet, Edward shall be here proclaimed.
(didascalia)	To Montgomery
HASTINGS	Come, fellow soldier, make thou proclamation.
(didascalia)	Flourish
(didascalia)	MONTGOMERY Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God
HASTINGS	King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland— And whosoe’er gainsays King Edward’s right, By this I challenge him to single fight. He throws down his gauntlet
ALL	Long live Edward the Fourth!
KING EDWARD	Thanks, brave Montgomery, and thanks unto you all. If fortune serve me I’ll requite this kindness. Now, 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’ll 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! Yet, as we may, we’ll meet both thee and Warwick. Come on, brave soldiers—doubt not of the day And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entrano re Edoardo, Riccardo duca di Gloucester, e lord Hastings, con una schiera di Olandesi
RE EDOARDO	Ora, fratello Riccardo, lord Hastings, e voi altri, fin qui la fortuna ci risarcisce, e dice che ancora una volta baratterò il mio stato scemato con la regale corona di Enrico. Bene abbiamo varcato e ora rivarcato i mari e portato il desiderato aiuto dalla Borgogna. Che resta dunque, essendo così arrivati dal porto di Ravenspurgh davanti alle porte di York, se non che entriamo, come nel nostro ducato ?
(didascalia)	Hastings batte alle porte di York
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Le porte serrate? Fratello, questo non mi piace. Ché a molti uomini che inciampano sulla soglia è ben predetto che il pericolo s’annida dentro.
RE EDOARDO	Bah, uomo, i presagi non devono ora spaventarci. Con mezzi buoni o cattivi dobbiamo entrare, ché qui i nostri amici verranno a raggiungerci.
HASTINGS	Mio sire, batterò ancora una volta per chiamarli. Batte. Entrano, sulle mura, il Sindaco e gli assessori di York
SINDACO	Signori, fummo avvertiti del vostro arrivo, e chiudemmo le porte per la sicurezza di noi stessi— ché ora dobbiamo fedeltà a Enrico.
RE EDOARDO	Ma, signor Sindaco, se Enrico è il vostro re, Edoardo è almeno duca di York.
SINDACO	Vero, mio buon signore, non vi conosco per meno.
RE EDOARDO	Ebbene, e io non rivendico altro che il mio ducato, essendo ben contento di quello solo.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte) Ma quando la volpe ha una volta cacciato dentro il naso, trova presto il modo di far seguire il corpo.
HASTINGS	Ebbene, signor Sindaco, perché state in dubbio? Aprite le porte—siamo amici di re Enrico.
SINDACO	Ah, dite così? Allora le porte saranno aperte. Scendono
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Un capitano saggio e gagliardo, e presto persuaso.
HASTINGS	Il buon vecchio vorrebbe che tutto andasse bene, purché non dipendesse da lui; ma una volta entrati, non dubito, io, che presto persuaderemo lui e tutti i suoi confratelli alla ragione.
(didascalia)	Entrano in basso il Sindaco e due assessori
RE EDOARDO	Così, signor Sindaco, queste porte non devono esser chiuse se non di notte o in tempo di guerra. Che—non temete, uomo, ma consegnatemi le chiavi, Re Edoardo prende alcune chiavi dal Sindaco ché Edoardo difenderà la città e voi, e tutti quegli amici che si degnano di seguirmi. Marcia. Entra sir John Montgomery con un tamburino e soldati
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Fratello, questi è sir John Montgomery, nostro fidato amico, se non m’inganno.
RE EDOARDO	Benvenuto, sir John—ma perché venite in armi?
MONTGOMERY	Per aiutare re Edoardo nel suo tempo di tempesta, come ogni leale suddito deve fare.
RE EDOARDO	Grazie, buon Montgomery, ma noi ora dimentichiamo il nostro titolo alla corona, e reclamiamo soltanto il nostro ducato, finché a Dio piaccia mandare il resto.
MONTGOMERY	Allora state bene, ché io tornerò indietro. Venni a servire un re e non un duca. Tamburino, batti, e marciamo via. 50 Il tamburino comincia a battere una marcia
RE EDOARDO	No, restate, sir John, un poco, e discuteremo con quali mezzi sicuri la corona possa esser riconquistata.
MONTGOMERY	Che parlate di discutere? In poche parole, se non vi proclamate qui nostro re, vi lascerò alla vostra fortuna e me n’andrò a trattenere quelli che vengono a soccorrervi. Perché combatteremo, se non pretendete alcun titolo?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a re Edoardo) Ebbene, fratello, perché insistete su sottigliezze?
RE EDOARDO	Quando cresceremo più forti, allora avanzeremo la nostra pretesa. Fino allora è saggezza celare il nostro intento.
HASTINGS	Via l’ingegno scrupoloso! Ora devono governare le armi.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	E gli animi senza paura salgono più presto alle corone. Fratello, vi proclameremo senza indugio, la fama di ciò vi porterà molti amici.
RE EDOARDO	Allora sia come volete, ché è mio diritto, ed Enrico non fa che usurpare il diadema.
MONTGOMERY	Sì, ora il mio sovrano parla da sé stesso, e ora io sarò il campione d’Edoardo.
(didascalia)	Suoni la tromba, Edoardo sarà qui proclamato.
(didascalia)	A Montgomery
HASTINGS	Vieni, compagno soldato, fa’ tu il proclama.
(didascalia)	Squilli
(didascalia)	MONTGOMERY Edoardo Quarto, per grazia di Dio
HASTINGS	re d’Inghilterra e di Francia, e signore d’Irlanda— e chiunque contesti il diritto di re Edoardo, con questo lo sfido a singolo combattimento. Getta a terra il suo guanto
TUTTI	Viva Edoardo Quarto!
RE EDOARDO	Grazie, bravo Montgomery, e grazie a voi tutti. Se la fortuna mi serve, ricompenserò questa cortesia. Ora, per questa notte, alberghiamo qui in York; e quando il sole del mattino solleverà il suo carro sopra il confine di questo orizzonte, avanzeremo verso Warwick e i suoi compagni. Ché bene so che Enrico non è soldato. Ah, ostinato Clarence, quanto male ti si addice lusingare Enrico e abbandonare tuo fratello! Tuttavia, come potremo, incontreremo te e Warwick. Avanti, bravi soldati—non dubitate della giornata, e, ottenuta quella, non dubitate di larga paga.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Earl of Warwick, the Marquis of Montague, George Duke of Clarence, and the Earl of Oxford
WARWICK	What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders, Hath passed in safety through the narrow seas, And with his troops doth march amain to London, And many giddy people flock to him.
KING HENRY	Let’s levy men and beat him back again.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.
WARWICK	In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war. Those will I muster up. And thou, son Clarence, Shalt stir in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, The knights and gentlemen to come with thee. Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire shalt find Men well inclined to hear what thou command’st. And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved 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.
KING HENRY	Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy’s true hope.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	In sign of truth, I kiss your highness’ hand. He kisses King Henry’s hand
KING HENRY	Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
MONTAGUE	Comfort, my lord, and so I take my leave.
(didascalia)	He kisses King Henry’s hand
OXFORD	And thus I seal my truth and bid adieu.
(didascalia)	He kisses King Henry’s hand
KING HENRY	Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
(didascalia)	Exit
WARWICK	Farewell, sweet lords—let’s meet at Coventry.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally!
(didascalia)	4.10 Erenter King Henry and the Duke of Exeter
KING HENRY	Here at the palace will I rest a while. Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? Methinks the power that Edward hath in field Should not be able to encounter mine.
EXETER	The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.
KING HENRY	That’s not my fear. My meed hath got me fame. I have not stopped 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 allayed their swelling griefs, My mercy dried their water-flowing tears. I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much erred. Then why should they love Edward more than me? No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace; And when the lion fawns upon the lamb, The lamb will never cease to follow him.
(didascalia)	Shout within ‘A Lancaster’, ‘A York’
EXETER	Hark, hark, my ford—what shouts are these?
(didascalia)	Enter King Edward and Richard Duke of Gloucester, with soldiers
KING EDWARD	Seize on the shame-faced Henry—bear him 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—tet him not speak.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some with King Henry and Exeter
KING EDWARD	And lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, Where peremptory Warwick now remains. The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay, Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Away betimes, before his forces join, And take the great-grown traitor unawares. Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entrano re Enrico, il conte di Warwick, il marchese di Montague, Giorgio duca di Clarence, e il conte di Oxford
WARWICK	Che consiglio, signori? Edoardo dal Belgio, con Tedeschi impetuosi e rozzi Olandesi, è passato in salvo attraverso gli stretti mari, e con le sue truppe marcia a tutta forza verso Londra, e molta gente volubile accorre a lui.
RE ENRICO	Arruoliamo uomini e ricacciamolo indietro.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Un piccolo fuoco si calpesta presto, il quale, se tollerato, i fiumi non possono spegnere.
WARWICK	Nel Warwickshire ho amici dal cuore fedele, non sediziosi in pace, e tuttavia audaci in guerra. Quelli io radunerò. E tu, figlio Clarence, ti muoverai nel Suffolk, nel Norfolk e nel Kent, perché i cavalieri e i gentiluomini vengano con te. Tu, fratello Montague, nel Buckingham, nel Northampton e nel Leicestershire troverai uomini ben disposti a udire ciò che comandi. E tu, bravo Oxford, meravigliosamente ben amato nell’Oxfordshire, radunerai i tuoi amici. Il mio sovrano, coi cittadini affezionati, come la sua isola cinta dall’oceano, o la modesta Diana circondata dalle sue ninfe, riposerà a Londra finché non veniamo a lui. Bei signori, prendete congedo e non state a replicare. Addio, mio sovrano.
RE ENRICO	Addio, mio Ettore, e vera speranza della mia Troia.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	In segno di fedeltà, bacio la mano di vostra altezza. Bacia la mano di re Enrico
RE ENRICO	Ben intenzionato Clarence, sii tu fortunato.
MONTAGUE	Confortatevi, mio signore, e così prendo congedo.
(didascalia)	Bacia la mano di re Enrico
OXFORD	E così sigillo la mia fedeltà e dico addio.
(didascalia)	Bacia la mano di re Enrico
RE ENRICO	Dolce Oxford, e mio amato Montague, e tutti insieme, ancora una volta un felice addio.
(didascalia)	Esce
WARWICK	Addio, dolci signori—incontriamoci a Coventry.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente!

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Erenter King Henry and the Duke of Exeter
KING HENRY	Here at the palace will I rest a while. Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship? Methinks the power that Edward hath in field Should not be able to encounter mine.
EXETER	The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.
KING HENRY	That’s not my fear. My meed hath got me fame. I have not stopped 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 allayed their swelling griefs, My mercy dried their water-flowing tears. I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much erred. Then why should they love Edward more than me? No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace; And when the lion fawns upon the lamb, The lamb will never cease to follow him.
(didascalia)	Shout within ‘A Lancaster’, ‘A York’
EXETER	Hark, hark, my ford—what shouts are these?
(didascalia)	Enter King Edward and Richard Duke of Gloucester, with soldiers
KING EDWARD	Seize on the shame-faced Henry—bear him 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—tet him not speak.
(didascalia)	Exeunt some with King Henry and Exeter
KING EDWARD	And lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, Where peremptory Warwick now remains. The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay, Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Away betimes, before his forces join, And take the great-grown traitor unawares. Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Rientrrano re Enrico e il duca di Exeter
RE ENRICO	Qui nel palazzo riposerò un poco. Cugino di Exeter, che pensa vostra signoria? Mi pare che la forza che Edoardo ha in campo non dovrebbe essere in grado d’affrontare la mia.
EXETER	Il dubbio è che egli seduca gli altri.
RE ENRICO	Non è questo il mio timore. Il mio merito m’ha dato fama. Non ho chiuso le mie orecchie alle loro domande, né rinviato le loro istanze con lenti indugi. La mia pietà è stata balsamo a sanare le loro ferite, la mia mitezza ha placato i loro dolori gonfi, la mia misericordia ha asciugato le loro lacrime fluenti come acqua. Non sono stato bramoso della loro ricchezza, né li ho molto oppressi con grandi tributi, né pronto alla vendetta, sebbene molto errassero. Perché dunque dovrebbero amare Edoardo più di me? No, Exeter, queste grazie reclamano grazia; e quando il leone fa carezze all’agnello, l’agnello non cesserà mai di seguirlo.
(didascalia)	Grida dall’interno ‘Lancaster’, ‘York’
EXETER	Udite, udite, mio fignore—che grida son queste?
(didascalia)	Entrano re Edoardo e Riccardo duca di Gloucester, con soldati
RE EDOARDO	Afferrate il vergognoso Enrico—portatelo via, e ancora una volta proclamateci re d’Inghilterra. Tu sei la fonte che fa scorrere i piccoli ruscelli. Ora si arresta la tua sorgente—il mio mare li succhierà a secco, e si gonfierà tanto più alto col loro riflusso. Via con lui alla Torre—non tasciatelo parlare.
(didascalia)	Escono alcuni con re Enrico ed Exeter
RE EDOARDO	E, signori, volgiamo il nostro corso verso Coventry, dove ora sta il perentorio Warwick. Il sole scalda, e, se indugiamo, il freddo inverno pungente guasterà il fieno che speriamo.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Via presto, prima che le sue forze si congiungano, e cogliamo alla sprovvista il traditore ormai cresciuto. Bravi guerrieri, marciate a tutta forza verso Coventry.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Warwick, the Mayar of Coventry, two Messengers, and others upon the walls
WARWICK	Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?
(didascalia)	The First Messenger steps forward
WARWICK	How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
FIRST MESSENGER	By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.
WARWICK	How far off is our brother Montague? Where is the post that came from Montague?
(didascalia)	the Second Messenger steps forward
SECOND MESSENGER	By this at Da’ntry, with a puissant troop.
(didascalia)	Enter Somerville to them, abovel
WARWICK	Say, Somerville-what says my loving son? And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
SOMERVILLE	At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here some two hours hence. A march afar off
WARWICK	Then Clarence is at hand-I hear his drum.
SOMERVILLE	It is not his, my lord. Here Southam lies. The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick.
WARWICK	Who should that be? Belike, unlooked-for friends.
SOMERVILLE	They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter below King Edward and Richard Duke of Gloucester, with soldiers
KING EDWARD	Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parley.
(didascalia)	Sound a parley
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.
WARWICK	O, unbid spite—is sportful Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced, That we could hear no news of his repair?
KING EDWARD	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 shall pardon thee these outrages.
WARWICK	Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confess who set thee up and plucked thee down, Call Warwick patron, and be penitent? And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	I thought at least he would have said ‘the King’. Or did he make the jest against his will?
WARWICK	Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give. I’ll do thee service for so good a gift.
WARWICK	’Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother.
KING EDWARD	Why then, ’tis mine, if but by Warwick’s gift.
WARWICK	Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight; And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
KING EDWARD	But Warwick’s king is Edward’s prisoner, And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: What is the body when the head is off?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, But whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The king was slyly fingered from the deck.
(didascalia)	To Warwick You left poor Henry at the Bishop’s palace,
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And ten to one you’ll meet him in the Tower.
(didascalia)	’Tis even so—to Warwick yet you are Warwick still.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Come, Warwick, take the time—kneel down, kneel down. Nay, when? Strike now, or else the iron cools.
WARWICK	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.
KING EDWARD	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’.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Oxford, with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
WARWICK	O cheerful colours! See where Oxford comes.
OXFORD	Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Oxford and his men pass over the stage and exeunt into the city
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to King Edward) The gates are open—let us enter too.
KING EDWARD	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’ll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.
(didascalia)	WARWICK to Oxford, within
KING EDWARD	O, welcome, Oxford—for we want thy help.
(didascalia)	Enter the Marquis of Montague with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
MONTAGUE	Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Montague and his men pass over the stage and exeunt into the city
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Thou and thy brother both shall bye this treason Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
KING EDWARD	The harder matched, the greater victory. My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Somerset with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
SOMERSET	Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Somerset and his men pass over the stage and exeunt into the city
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York— And thou shalt be the third, an this sword hold.
(didascalia)	Enter George Duke of Clarence with a drummer and soldiers bearing colours
WARWICK	And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, Of force enough to bid his brother battle; With whom an upright zeal to right prevails More than the nature of a brother’s love.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster!
KING EDWARD	Et tu, Brute—wilt thou stab Caesar too? (To a trumpeter) A parley, sirra, to George of Clarence.
(didascalia)	Sound a parley. Richard of Gloucester and George of
KING EDWARD	Clarence whisper together
WARWICK	Come, Clarence, come—thou wilt if Warwick call.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Father of Warwick, know you what this means?
(didascalia)	He takes his red rose out of his hat and throws it at Warwick
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Look—here I throw my infamy at thee! I will not ruinate my father’s house, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural, To bend the fatal instruments of war Against his brother and his lawful king? Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath. To keep that oath were more impiety Than Jephthah, when he sacrificed his daughter. I am so sorry for my trespass made That, to deserve well at my brothers’ hands, I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe, With resolution, wheresoe’er 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 brothers turn my blushing cheeks. (To King Edward) Pardon me, Edward—I will make amends. (To Richard) And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
KING EDWARD	Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved, Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to George) Welcome, good Clarence—this is brother-like.
WARWICK	(to George) O, passing traitor—perjured and unjust!
KING EDWARD	What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight? Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
(didascalia)	WARWICK aside
KING EDWARD	Alas, I am not cooped here for defence. (To King Edward) I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar’st.
KING EDWARD	Yes, Warwick—Edward dares, and leads the way. Lords, to the Held—Saint George and victory!
(didascalia)	Exeunt below King Edward and his company.
KING EDWARD	March. The Earl of Warwick and his company descend and follow

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il conte di Warwick, il Sindaco di Coventry, due Messi, e altri sulle mura
WARWICK	Dov’è il corriere che venne dal valoroso Oxford?
(didascalia)	Il Primo Messo si fa avanti
WARWICK	Quanto è lontano di qui il tuo signore, mio onesto amico?
PRIMO MESSO	A quest’ora a Dunsmore, marciando verso qui.
WARWICK	Quanto è lontano nostro fratello Montague? Dov’è il corriere che venne da Montague?
(didascalia)	il Secondo Messo si fa avanti
SECONDO MESSO	A quest’ora a Da’ntry, con una possente schiera.
(didascalia)	Entra Somerville presso loro, in altol
WARWICK	Di’, Somerville—che dice il mio amato figlio? E, a tua stima, quanto è vicino ora Clarence?
SOMERVILLE	A Southam lo lasciai con le sue forze, e l’attendo qui fra circa due ore. Una marcia in lontananza
WARWICK	Allora Clarence è vicino—odo il suo tamburo.
SOMERVILLE	Non è il suo, mio signore. Qui sta Southam. Il tamburo che vostro onore ode marcia da Warwick.
WARWICK	Chi sarà? Certo, amici inattesi.
SOMERVILLE	Sono vicini, e presto lo saprete.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entrano in basso re Edoardo e Riccardo duca di Gloucester, con soldati
RE EDOARDO	Va’, trombettiere, alle mura, e suona un parlamento.
(didascalia)	Suona un parlamento
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Guardate come il burbero Warwick presidia il muro.
WARWICK	Oh, dispetto non invitato—è venuto il gaio Edoardo? Dove dormivano i nostri esploratori, o come sono stati sedotti, che non potemmo udir nuove del suo arrivo?
RE EDOARDO	Ora, Warwick, vuoi aprire le porte della città, dir parole gentili, e piegare umilmente il ginocchio, chiamare Edoardo re, e implorare pietà dalle sue mani? Ed egli ti perdonerà questi oltraggi.
WARWICK	No, piuttosto, vuoi tu ritirare di qui le tue forze, confessare chi t’innalzò e chi t’abbatté, chiamare Warwick patrono, ed esser penitente? E rimarrai ancora il duca di York.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Pensavo che almeno avrebbe detto ‘il re’. O ha fatto lo scherzo suo malgrado?
WARWICK	Non è un ducato, signore, un bel dono?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Sì, in fede mia, per un povero conte da donare. Ti farò un servizio per un dono così bello.
WARWICK	Fui io a dare il regno a tuo fratello.
RE EDOARDO	Ebbene allora è mio, se pur per dono di Warwick.
WARWICK	Tu non sei Atlante per un peso così grande; e, debole, Warwick riprende il suo dono; ed Enrico è il mio re, Warwick suo suddito.
RE EDOARDO	Ma il re di Warwick è prigioniero d’Edoardo, e, prode Warwick, rispondi solo a questo: che è il corpo quando la testa è tolta?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Ahimè, che Warwick non ebbe più previdenza, ma mentre pensava di rubare il semplice dieci, il re gli fu astutamente sfilato dal mazzo.
(didascalia)	A Warwick Lasciasti il povero Enrico al palazzo del vescovo,
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	e dieci a uno lo incontrerai nella Torre.
(didascalia)	È proprio così—a Warwick e tuttavia tu sei ancora Warwick.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Vieni, Warwick, cogli il momento—inginòcchiati, inginòcchiati giù. Su, quando? Batti ora, o il ferro si raffredda.
WARWICK	Preferirei tagliarmi questa mano d’un colpo, e con l’altra scagliartela in faccia, che portar vela così bassa da ammainare davanti a te.
RE EDOARDO	Naviga come puoi, abbi vento e marea amici, questa mano, avvolta stretta nei tuoi capelli neri come carbone, mentre la tua testa è calda e appena tagliata, scriverà nella polvere questa sentenza col tuo sangue: ‘Warwick che muta come il vento ora non può mutar più’.
(didascalia)	Entra il conte di Oxford, con un tamburino e soldati che portano insegne
WARWICK	Oh insegne allegre! Guardate dove viene Oxford.
OXFORD	Oxford, Oxford, per Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Oxford e i suoi uomini attraversano la scena ed escono nella città
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a re Edoardo) Le porte sono aperte—entriamo anche noi.
RE EDOARDO	Perché altri nemici ci assalgano alle spalle? Stiamo in buon ordine, ché senza dubbio usciranno di nuovo e ci offriranno battaglia. Se no, essendo la città di scarsa difesa, snideremo presto i traditori là dentro.
(didascalia)	WARWICK a Oxford, dall’interno
RE EDOARDO	Oh, benvenuto, Oxford—ché abbiamo bisogno del tuo aiuto.
(didascalia)	Entra il marchese di Montague con un tamburino e soldati che portano insegne
MONTAGUE	Montague, Montague, per Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Montague e i suoi uomini attraversano la scena ed escono nella città
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Tu e tuo fratello pagherete entrambi questo tradimento col più caro sangue che i vostri corpi portano.
RE EDOARDO	Più duro lo scontro, più grande la vittoria. Il mio animo presagisce felice guadagno e conquista.
(didascalia)	Entra il duca di Somerset con un tamburino e soldati che portano insegne
SOMERSET	Somerset, Somerset, per Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Somerset e i suoi uomini attraversano la scena ed escono nella città
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Due del tuo nome, entrambi duchi di Somerset, han venduto le loro vite alla casa di York— e tu sarai il terzo, se questa spada tiene.
(didascalia)	Entra Giorgio duca di Clarence con un tamburino e soldati che portano insegne
WARWICK	Ed ecco dove Giorgio di Clarence avanza a gran passo, con forze bastanti a offrire battaglia al fratello; in lui un retto zelo per il diritto prevale più della natura dell’amore fraterno.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Clarence, Clarence, per Lancaster!
RE EDOARDO	Et tu, Brute—vuoi pugnalare anche tu Cesare? (A un trombettiere) Un parlamento, briccone, a Giorgio di Clarence.
(didascalia)	Suona un parlamento. Riccardo di Gloucester e Giorgio di
RE EDOARDO	Clarence sussurrano insieme
WARWICK	Vieni, Clarence, vieni—verrai se Warwick chiama.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Padre di Warwick, sapete che cosa significa questo?
(didascalia)	Si toglie dal cappello la sua rosa rossa e la getta contro Warwick
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Guarda—qui getto contro te la mia infamia! Non manderò in rovina la casa di mio padre, che diede il suo sangue per cementare insieme le pietre, e innalzò Lancaster. Credi tu, Warwick, che Clarence sia così duro, così rozzo, snaturato, da volgere i fatali strumenti di guerra contro suo fratello e suo legittimo re? Forse mi obietterai il mio santo giuramento. Mantenere quel giuramento sarebbe empietà maggiore di quella di Iefte, quando sacrificò sua figlia. Tanto mi dolgo del mio trascorso che, per meritare bene dalle mani dei miei fratelli, qui mi proclamo tuo nemico mortale, con la risoluzione, dovunque t’incontri— e t’incontrerò, se ti muovi fuori— di tormentarti per l’infame tuo avermi traviato. E così, Warwick dal cuore superbo, io ti sfido, e ai miei fratelli volgo le mie guance arrossite. (A re Edoardo) Perdonami, Edoardo—farò ammenda. (A Riccardo) E, Riccardo, non t’accigliare per le mie colpe, ché d’ora in poi non sarò più incostante.
RE EDOARDO	Ora sei più benvenuto, e dieci volte più amato, che se non avessi mai meritato il nostro odio.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a Giorgio) Benvenuto, buon Clarence—questo è da fratello.
WARWICK	(a Giorgio) Oh, traditore supremo—spergiuro e iniquo!
RE EDOARDO	Che, Warwick, vuoi lasciare la città e combattere? O dovremo farti piovere le pietre intorno alle orecchie?
(didascalia)	WARWICK a parte
RE EDOARDO	Ahimè, non sono qui rinchiuso per difesa. (A re Edoardo) Me n’andrò subito verso Barnet, e t’offrirò battaglia, Edoardo, se osi.
RE EDOARDO	Sì, Warwick—Edoardo osa, e apre la via. Signori, al campo—san Giorgio e vittoria!
(didascalia)	Escono in basso re Edoardo e la sua compagnia.
RE EDOARDO	Marcia. Il conte di Warwick e la sua compagnia scendono e seguono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum and excursions. Enter King Edward bringing forth the Earl of Warwick, wounded
KING EDWARD	So lie thou there. Die thou, and die our fear— For Warwick was a bug that feared us all. Now, Montague, sit fast—I seek for thee That Warwick’s bones may keep thine company. Exit
WARWICK	Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that? My mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, 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 over-peered Jove’s spreading tree And kept low shrubs from winter’s powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimmed with death’s black veil, Have been as piercing as the midday sun To search the secret treasons of the world. The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood, Were likened oft to kingly sepulchres— For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? Lo now my glory smeared in dust and blood. My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me, and of all my lands Is nothing left me but my body’s length, Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Oxford and the Duke of Somerset
SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick, Warwick—wert thou as we are, We might recover all our loss again. The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power. Even now we heard the news. Ah, couldst thou fly!
WARWICK	Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while. Thou lov’st me not—for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood That glues my lips and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick—Montague hath breathed his last, And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick, And said ‘Commend me to my valiant brother.’ And more he would have said, and more he spoke, Which sounded like a canon in a vault, That mote not be distinguished; but at last I well might hear, delivered with a groan, ‘O, farewell, Warwick.’
WARWICK	Sweet rest his soul. Fly, lords, and save yourselves— For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in heaven. He dies
OXFORD	Away, away—to meet the Queen’s great power! Here they bear away Warwick’s body. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme e scorrerie. Entra re Edoardo trascinando fuori il conte di Warwick, ferito
RE EDOARDO	Così giaci là. Muori tu, e muoia il nostro timore— ché Warwick era uno spauracchio che ci atterriva tutti. Ora, Montague, sta’ saldo—io cerco te, perché le ossa di Warwick abbiano la tua compagnia. Esce
WARWICK	Ah, chi è vicino? Vieni a me, amico o nemico, e dimmi chi è il vincitore, York o Warwick? Perché lo chiedo? Il mio corpo straziato lo mostra, il mio sangue, la mia mancanza di forze, il mio cuore malato lo mostra, che devo cedere il mio corpo alla terra e con la mia caduta la conquista al mio nemico. Così cede il cedro al taglio della scure, le cui braccia davano riparo all’aquila principesca, sotto la cui ombra dormiva il leone rampante, il cui ramo più alto sovrastava l’albero espanso di Giove e riparava i bassi arbusti dal potente vento dell’inverno. Questi occhi, che ora sono offuscati dal nero velo della morte, sono stati penetranti come il sole di mezzogiorno a scrutare i segreti tradimenti del mondo. Le rughe della mia fronte, ora colme di sangue, furono spesso paragonate a sepolcri di re— ché chi visse re, senza ch’io potessi scavargli la tomba? E chi osò sorridere quando Warwick aggrottava le ciglia? Ecco ora la mia gloria imbrattata di polvere e di sangue. I miei parchi, i miei viali, i manieri che avevo, proprio ora mi abbandonano, e di tutte le mie terre non mi resta nulla se non la lunghezza del mio corpo. Ebbene, che è pompa, potere, regno, se non terra e polvere? E, viviamo come possiamo, morire dobbiamo.
(didascalia)	Entrano il conte di Oxford e il duca di Somerset
SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick, Warwick—fossi tu come siamo noi, potremmo riparare tutta la nostra perdita. La regina ha portato dalla Francia una possente forza. Proprio ora ne udimmo la nuova. Ah, se tu potessi fuggire!
WARWICK	Ebbene, allora non fuggirei. Ah, Montague, se tu sei là, dolce fratello, prendi la mia mano, e con le tue labbra trattieni un poco la mia anima. Tu non m’ami—ché, fratello, se m’amassi, le tue lacrime laverebbero questo freddo sangue rappreso che m’incolla le labbra e non mi lascia parlare. Vieni presto, Montague, o sono morto.
SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick—Montague ha esalato l’ultimo respiro, e fino all’estremo rantolo invocò Warwick, e disse: ‘Salutami il mio valoroso fratello.’ E più avrebbe detto, e più disse, che risuonava come un cannone in una volta, tanto che non si poteva distinguere; ma alla fine bene potei udire, proferito con un gemito: ‘Oh, addio, Warwick.’
WARWICK	Dolce riposo alla sua anima. Fuggite, signori, e salvatevi— ché Warwick vi dice addio a tutti, per ritrovarci in cielo. Muore
OXFORD	Via, via—incontro alla grande forza della regina! Qui portano via il corpo di Warwick. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard Duke of Gloucester, George Duke of Clarence, and soldiers
KING EDWARD	Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, And we are graced with wreaths of victory. But in the midst of this bright-shining day I spy a black suspicious threatening 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 raised in Gallia have arrived our coast, And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	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.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong, And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her. If she have time to breathe, be well assured, Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
KING EDWARD	We are advertised by our loving friends That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury. 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.
(didascalia)	Flourish. March Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entra re Edoardo in trionfo, con Riccardo duca di Gloucester, Giorgio duca di Clarence, e soldati
RE EDOARDO	Fin qui la nostra fortuna tiene un corso ascendente, e siamo adornati di serti di vittoria. Ma in mezzo a questo giorno di splendente luce scorgo una nera nube sospetta e minacciosa che verrà a scontrarsi col nostro glorioso sole prima ch’egli raggiunga il suo agiato letto d’occidente. Intendo, signori, che quelle forze che la regina ha levato in Gallia sono giunte alla nostra costa, e, a quanto udiamo, marciano a combattere con noi.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Una piccola brezza disperderà presto quella nube, e la risoffierà alla sorgente d’onde venne. I tuoi raggi stessi asciugheranno quei vapori, ché non ogni nube genera una tempesta.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	La regina è stimata forte di trentamila, e Somerset, con Oxford, è fuggito presso di lei. Se ella ha tempo di riprender fiato, siate bene certi che la sua fazione sarà forte proprio quanto la nostra.
RE EDOARDO	Siamo avvertiti dai nostri affezionati amici che tengono il loro corso verso Tewkesbury. Noi, avendo ora avuto la meglio sul campo di Barnet, ci volgeremo subito là, ché la buona voglia divora la via— e, mentre marciamo, la nostra forza sarà accresciuta in ogni contea lungo il nostro cammino. Rullate il tamburo, gridate ‘Coraggio!’; e via.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Marcia. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. March. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of Oxford, and soldiers
QUEEN MARGARET	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 swallowed 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 saved? 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 allowed 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 wreck. As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. And what is Edward but a ruthless sea? What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? And Richard but a ragged fatal rock? All these the enemies to our poor barque. Say you can swim—alas, ’tis but a while; Tread on the sand—why, there you quickly sink; Bestride the rock—the tide will wash you off, 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, That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers York More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks. Why, courage then—what cannot be avoided ’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
PRINCE EDWARD	Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, Infuse his breast with magnanimity And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. I speak not this as doubting any here— For did I but suspect a fearful man, He should have leave to go away betimes, Lest in our need he might infect another And make him of like spirit to himself. If any such be here—as God forbid— Let him depart before we need his help.
OXFORD	Women and children of so high a courage, And warriors faint—why, ’twere perpetual shame! O brave young Prince, thy famous grandfather Doth live again in thee! Long mayst thou live To bear his image and renew his glories I
SOMERSET	And he that will not fight for such a hope, Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, If he arise, be mocked and wondered at.
QUEEN MARGARET	Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.
PRINCE EDWARD	And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand Ready to fight—therefore be resolute.
OXFORD	I thought no less. It is his policy To haste thus fast to find us unprovided.
SOMERSET	But he’s deceived; we are in readiness.
QUEEN MARGARET	This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.
OXFORD	Here pitch our battle—hence we will not budge.
(didascalia)	Flourish and march. Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and George Duke of Clarence, with soldiers
KING EDWARD	(to his followers) Brave followers, yonder stands the 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.
QUEEN MARGARET	(to her followers) Lords, knights, and gentlemen—what I should say My tears gainsay; for every word I speak Ye see I drink the water of my eye. Therefore, no more but this: Henry your sovereign Is prisoner to the foe, his state usurped, His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancelled, 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.
(didascalia)	Alarum, retreat, excursions. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli. Marcia. Entrano la regina Margherita, il principe Edoardo, il duca di Somerset, il conte di Oxford, e soldati
REGINA MARGHERITA	Grandi signori, i saggi non stanno mai a piangere la perdita, ma cercano di buon animo come riparare i danni. Che importa se l’albero è ora spazzato fuori bordo, la gomena rotta, l’ancora di tenuta perduta, e metà dei nostri marinai inghiottita dai flutti? Vive tuttavia il nostro pilota. È conveniente ch’egli lasci il timone e, come un ragazzo timoroso, con occhi lacrimosi aggiunga acqua al mare, e dia più forza a ciò che ne ha troppa, mentre, nel suo lamento, la nave si spacca sullo scoglio che l’operosità e il coraggio avrebbero potuto salvare? Ah, quale vergogna; ah, quale colpa sarebbe questa. Diciamo che Warwick era la nostra ancora—e che importa? E Montague il nostro albero maestro—che importa di lui? I nostri amici trucidati le manovre—che importa di questi? Ebbene, non è Oxford qui un’altra ancora? E Somerset un altro buon albero? Gli amici di Francia le nostre sartie e i nostri attrezzi? E, sebbene inesperti, perché non a Ned e a me per una volta affidare l’ufficio dell’esperto pilota? Non lasceremo il timone per sedere e piangere, ma terremo la rotta, anche se il rude vento dice no, lontano da secche e scogli che ci minacciano naufragio. Tanto vale sgridare le onde quanto parlar loro cortese. E che è Edoardo se non un mare spietato? Che è Clarence se non una sabbia mobile d’inganno? E Riccardo se non un aspro scoglio fatale? Tutti questi i nemici della nostra povera barca. Di’ che sai nuotare—ahimè, è per poco; cammina sulla sabbia—ebbene, là affondi presto; inforca lo scoglio—la marea ti spazzerà via, o altrimenti muori di fame. Ecco una triplice morte. Questo dico, signori, per farvi comprendere che, se per caso qualcuno di voi volesse fuggire da noi, non v’è pietà da sperare presso i fratelli York più che presso onde spietate, sabbie e scogli. Dunque, coraggio—ciò che non si può evitare sarebbe puerile debolezza lamentarlo o temerlo.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Mi pare che una donna di questo valoroso spirito dovrebbe, se un codardo l’udisse dire queste parole, infondergli nel petto magnanimità e farlo, disarmato, abbattere un uomo d’armi. Non dico questo per dubitare d’alcuno qui— ché se solo sospettassi un uomo timoroso, avrebbe licenza d’andarsene a tempo, perché nel nostro bisogno non contagi un altro e non lo faccia di spirito simile al suo. Se qualcuno tale è qui—Dio non voglia— parta prima che ci occorra il suo aiuto.
OXFORD	Donne e fanciulli di così alto coraggio, e guerrieri smarriti—ebbene, sarebbe vergogna perpetua! O bravo giovane principe, il tuo famoso avo vive di nuovo in te! Lungamente possa tu vivere a portare la sua immagine e a rinnovare le sue glorie I
SOMERSET	E chi non vuol combattere per una tale speranza, vada a casa a letto, e come la civetta di giorno, se si alza, sia deriso e additato a stupore.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Grazie, gentile Somerset; dolce Oxford, grazie.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	E accettate i ringraziamenti di chi non ha ancora altro.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messo
MESSO	Preparatevi, signori, ché Edoardo è vicino, pronto a combattere—perciò siate risoluti.
OXFORD	Non pensavo meno. È sua tattica affrettarsi così per trovarci sprovvisti.
SOMERSET	Ma s’inganna; noi siamo pronti.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Questo mi rallegra il cuore, vedere la vostra prontezza.
OXFORD	Qui piantiamo la nostra battaglia—di qui non ci moveremo.
(didascalia)	Squilli e marcia. Entrano re Edoardo, Riccardo duca di Gloucester, e Giorgio duca di Clarence, con soldati
RE EDOARDO	(ai suoi seguaci) Bravi seguaci, là si erge il bosco spinoso che, con l’aiuto dei cieli e la vostra forza, dev’essere sradicato prima che venga notte. Non ho bisogno d’aggiungere altra esca al vostro fuoco, ché bene so che fiammeggiate per bruciarli fuori. Date il segnale alla battaglia, e all’opera, signori.
REGINA MARGHERITA	(ai suoi seguaci) Signori, cavalieri e gentiluomini—ciò che dovrei dire le mie lacrime lo contraddicono; ché a ogni parola che dico vedete ch’io bevo l’acqua del mio occhio. Perciò, non altro che questo: Enrico vostro sovrano è prigioniero del nemico, il suo stato usurpato, il suo regno una casa di macello, i suoi sudditi uccisi, i suoi statuti annullati, e il suo tesoro speso— e là è il lupo che fa questa strage. Voi combattete per giustizia; dunque, in nome di Dio, signori, siate valorosi, e date il segnale alla battaglia.
(didascalia)	Squillo d’allarme, ritirata, scorrerie. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and George Duke of Clarence with Queen Margaret, the Earl of Oxford, and the Duke of Somerset, guarded
KING EDWARD	Now here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight; For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Go bear them hence—I will not hear them speak.
OXFORD	For my part, I’ll not trouble thee with words.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
SOMERSET	Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
QUEEN MARGARET	So part we sadly in this troublous world To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
KING EDWARD	Is proclamation made that who finds Edward Shall have a high reward and he his life?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	It is, and lo where youthful Edward comes.
(didascalia)	Enter Prince Edward, guarded
KING EDWARD	Bring forth the gallant—let us hear him 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 turned me to?
PRINCE EDWARD	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.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, that thy father had been so resolved.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	That you might still have worn the petticoat And ne’er have stolen the breech from Lancaster.
PRINCE EDWARD	Let Aesop fable in a winter’s night— His currish riddles sorts not with this place.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	By heaven, brat, I’ll plague ye for that word.
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	For God’s sake take away this captive scold.
PRINCE EDWARD	Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.
KING EDWARD	Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(to Prince Edward) Untutored lad, thou art too malapert.
PRINCE EDWARD	I know my duty—you are all undutiful. Lascivious Edward, and thou, perjured 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.
KING EDWARD	Take that, the likeness of this railer here. King Edward stabs Prince Edward
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Sprawl’st thou? Take that, to end thy agony. Richard stabs Prince Edward
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	And there’s for twitting me with perjury.
(didascalia)	George stabs Prince Edward, who dies
QUEEN MARGARET	O, kill me too!
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Marry, and shall. He offers to kill her
KING EDWARD	Hold, Richard, hold—for we have done too much.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Why should she live to fill the world with words? Queen Margaret faints
KING EDWARD	What—doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother. I’ll hence to London on a serious matter. Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	(aside to Richard) What? What?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside to George) The Tower, the Tower. Exit
QUEEN MARGARET	O Ned, sweet Ned—speak to thy mother, boy. Canst thou not speak? O traitors, murderers! They that stabbed 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 murderer that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst an if I speak; And I will speak that so my heart may burst. Butchers and villains! Bloody cannibals! How sweet a plant have you untimely cropped! You have no children, butchers; if you had, The thought of them would have stirred 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!
KING EDWARD	Away with her—go, bear her hence perforce.
QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, never bear me hence—dispatch me here. Here sheathe thy sword—I’ll pardon thee my death. What? Wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do it thou.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
QUEEN MARGARET	Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself. ‘Twas sin before, but now ’tis charity. What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil’s butcher, Hard-favoured Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here. Murder is thy atms-deed— Petitioners for blood thou ne‘er putt’st back.
KING EDWARD	Away, I say—t charge ye, bear her hence.
QUEEN MARGARET	So come to you and yours as to this Prince!
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
KING EDWARD	Where’s Richard gone?
(didascalia)	To London all in post—aside and as I guess,
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
KING EDWARD	He’s sudden if a thing 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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squilli. Entrano re Edoardo, Riccardo duca di Gloucester, e Giorgio duca di Clarence con la regina Margherita, il conte di Oxford, e il duca di Somerset, sotto scorta
RE EDOARDO	Ora qui un termine ai tumultuosi conflitti. Via con Oxford, subito al castello di Hames; quanto a Somerset, giù la sua testa colpevole. Portateli via di qui—non voglio udirli parlare.
OXFORD	Per la mia parte, non ti darò noia con parole.
(didascalia)	Esce, sotto scorta
SOMERSET	Né io, ma mi piegherò con pazienza alla mia fortuna.
(didascalia)	Esce, sotto scorta
REGINA MARGHERITA	Così ci separiamo tristi in questo mondo turbolento per ritrovarci con gioia nella dolce Gerusalemme.
RE EDOARDO	È stato fatto proclama che chi trova Edoardo avrà alta ricompensa ed egli la vita?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	È stato fatto, ed ecco dove viene il giovane Edoardo.
(didascalia)	Entra il principe Edoardo, sotto scorta
RE EDOARDO	Portate avanti il prode—udiamolo parlare. Che, può una spina così giovane cominciare a pungere? Edoardo, quale soddisfazione puoi tu dare per aver portato le armi, per aver sollevato i miei sudditi, e per tutto il travaglio in cui m’hai messo?
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Parla come un suddito, superbo ambizioso York. Poni che io sia ora la bocca di mio padre— rassegna il tuo seggio, e dove io sto, inginòcchiati tu, mentre io rivolgo a te le stesse parole alle quali, traditore, tu vorresti che io rispondessi.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Ah, se tuo padre fosse stato così risoluto.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Così avreste ancora portato la sottana e non avreste mai rubato i calzoni a Lancaster.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Lasciate che Esopo favoleggi in una notte d’inverno— i suoi ringhiosi enigmi non s’accordano con questo luogo.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Per il cielo, marmocchio, ti tormenterò per quella parola.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Sì, tu nascesti per essere un tormento agli uomini.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Per amor di Dio, portate via questa megera prigioniera.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Anzi, portate via piuttosto questo gobbo che sbraita.
RE EDOARDO	Taci, ragazzo ostinato, o incanterò la tua lingua.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	(al principe Edoardo) Ragazzo maleducato, sei troppo impertinente.
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Conosco il mio dovere—voi siete tutti senza dovere. Lascivo Edoardo, e tu, spergiuro Giorgio, e tu, deforme Dick—vi dico a tutti che io sono il vostro superiore, traditori quali siete, e tu usurpi il diritto di mio padre e il mio.
RE EDOARDO	Prendi questo, tu che somigli a costui che inveisce. Re Edoardo pugnala il principe Edoardo
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Ti dibatti? Prendi questo, per por fine alla tua agonia. Riccardo pugnala il principe Edoardo
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	E questo per avermi rimproverato lo spergiuro.
(didascalia)	Giorgio pugnala il principe Edoardo, che muore
REGINA MARGHERITA	Oh, uccidete anche me!
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Davvero, e lo farò. Fa per ucciderla
RE EDOARDO	Ferma, Riccardo, ferma—ché abbiamo fatto troppo.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Perché dovrebbe vivere per empire il mondo di parole? La regina Margherita viene meno
RE EDOARDO	Che—sviene? Adoperate mezzi per farla riprendere.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte, a Giorgio) Clarence, scusami col re mio fratello. Vado di qui a Londra per una cosa seria. Prima che voi arriviate là, siate certi d’udire qualche nuova.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	(a parte, a Riccardo) Che? Che cosa?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte, a Giorgio) La Torre, la Torre. Esce
REGINA MARGHERITA	O Ned, dolce Ned—parla a tua madre, ragazzo. Non puoi parlare? O traditori, assassini! Quelli che pugnalarono Cesare non versarono sangue alcuno, non offesero, né furono degni di biasimo, se questa turpe azione stesse accanto a paragone. Egli era un uomo—questi, a confronto, un fanciullo; e gli uomini non sfogano mai la loro furia su un fanciullo. Che è peggio d’assassino, ch’io possa nominarlo? No, no, il mio cuore scoppierà se parlo; e parlerò, sì che il mio cuore possa scoppiare. Macellai e scellerati! Cannibali sanguinari! Che dolce pianta avete recisa innanzi tempo! Voi non avete figli, macellai; se ne avessi, il pensiero di essi avrebbe destato rimorso. Ma se mai vi càpiti d’avere un figlio, attendetevi di vederlo troncato nella giovinezza come voi, carnefici, avete stroncato questo dolce giovane principe!
RE EDOARDO	Portatela via—andate, conducetela via a forza.
REGINA MARGHERITA	No, non portatemi via—finitemi qui. Qui affonda la tua spada—ti perdonerò la mia morte. Che? Non vuoi? Allora, Clarence, fallo tu.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Per il cielo, non ti farò tanto favore.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Buon Clarence, fallo; dolce Clarence, fallo tu.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Non m’hai udito giurare che non l’avrei fatto?
REGINA MARGHERITA	Sì, ma tu sei solito spergiurare. Prima era peccato, ma ora è carità. Che, non vuoi? Dov’è quel macellaio del diavolo, il rozzo Riccardo? Riccardo, dove sei? Tu non sei qui. L’assassinio è la tua opera di carità— i postulanti di sangue tu non li respingi mai.
RE EDOARDO	Via, dico—t’ordino, portatela di qui.
REGINA MARGHERITA	Così venga a voi e ai vostri come a questo principe!
(didascalia)	Esce, sotto scorta
RE EDOARDO	Dov’è andato Riccardo?
(didascalia)	A Londra tutto d’un fiato—a parte e, come immagino,
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	a fare una cena sanguinosa nella Torre.
RE EDOARDO	È fulmineo, quando una cosa gli entra in testa. Ora marciamo di qui. Licenziate la gente comune con paga e ringraziamenti, e andiamo a Londra, e vediamo come sta bene la nostra gentile regina. A quest’ora spero ch’ella m’abbia dato un figlio. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter on the walls King Henry the Sixth, reading a book, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and the Lieutenant of the Tower
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
KING HENRY	Ay, my good ford—‘my lord’, I should say, rather. ‘Tis sin to flatter; ‘good’ was little better. ‘Good Gloucester’ and ‘good devil’ were alike, And both preposterous—therefore not ‘good lord’.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(to the Lieutenant) Sirrah, leave us to ourselves. We must confer.
(didascalia)	Exit Lieutenant
KING HENRY	So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf; So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher’s knife. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
KING HENRY	The bird that hath been limèd 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 limed, was caught and killed.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	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 drowned.
KING HENRY	I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun that seared the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger’s point Than can my ears that tragic history. But wherefore dost thou come? Is’t for my life?
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Think’st thou I am an executioner?
KING HENRY	A persecutor I am sure thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	Thy son I killed for his presumption.
KING HENRY	Hadst thou been killed when first thou didst presume, Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine. And thus I prophesy: that many a thousand Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, And many an old man’s sigh, and many a widow‘s, And many an orphan’s water-standing eye— Men for their sons’, wives for their husbands‘, Orphans for their parents’ timeless death— Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. The owl shrieked at thy birth—an evil sign; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; Dogs howled, and hideous tempests shook down trees; The raven rooked her on the chimney’s top; And chatt’ring pies in dismal discords sung. Thy mother felt more than a mother’s pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother’s hope— To wit, an indigested and 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—
RICHARD	I’ll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech, He stabs him For this, amongst the rest, was I ordained.
KING HENRY	Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee. He dies
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	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. O, may such purple tears be alway shed From those that wish the downfall of our house! If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither— He stabs him again I that have neither pity, love, nor fear. Indeed, ‘tis true that Henry told me of, For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward. Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, And seek their ruin that usurped our right? The midwife wondered 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. Then, since the heavens have shaped my body so, Let hell make crooked my mind to answer it. I had no father, I am like no father; I have no brother, I 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 kept’st me from the light— But I will sort a pitchy day for thee. For I will buzz abroad such prophecies That Edward shall be fearful of his life, And then, to purge his fear, I’ll be thy death. Henry and his son are gone; thou, Clarence, art next; And by one and one I will dispatch the rest, Counting myself but bad till I be best. I’ll throw thy body in another room And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.
(didascalia)	Exit with the body

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano sulle mura re Enrico Sesto, che legge un libro, Riccardo duca di Gloucester, e il Luogotenente della Torre
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Buon giorno, mio signore. Che, così intento al vostro libro?
RE ENRICO	Sì, mio buon fignore—‘mio signore’, dovrei dire, piuttosto. È peccato adulare; ‘buono’ era poco meglio. ‘Buon Gloucester’ e ‘buon diavolo’ sarebbero pari, ed entrambi assurdi—perciò non ‘buon signore’.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(al Luogotenente) Tu, lasciaci soli. Dobbiamo conferire.
(didascalia)	Esce il Luogotenente
RE ENRICO	Così fugge il pastore incurante dal lupo; così la pecora innocua cede prima il suo vello, e poi la gola al coltello del macellaio. Quale scena di morte ha ora Roscio da recitare?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Il sospetto assilla sempre la mente colpevole; il ladro teme che ogni cespuglio sia una guardia.
RE ENRICO	L’uccello che fu preso col vischio in un cespuglio con ali tremanti sospetta d’ogni cespuglio. E io, lo sventurato maschio d’un dolce uccello, ho ora davanti agli occhi l’oggetto fatale là dove il mio povero nato fu invischiato, fu preso e ucciso.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Ebbene, che stizzoso folle fu quello di Creta, che insegnò a suo figlio l’ufficio d’un uccello! E tuttavia, con tutte le sue ali, il folle annegò.
RE ENRICO	Io, Dedalo; il mio povero ragazzo, Icaro; tuo padre, Minosse, che ci negò la rotta; il sole che bruciò le ali del mio dolce ragazzo, tuo fratello Edoardo; e tu stesso, il mare, il cui gorgo invidioso inghiottì la sua vita. Ah, uccidimi con la tua arma, non con le parole! Il mio petto può meglio tollerare la punta del tuo pugnale di quanto le mie orecchie quella tragica storia. Ma perché vieni? È per la mia vita?
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Credi tu ch’io sia un carnefice?
RE ENRICO	Un persecutore sono certo che tu sei; se assassinare innocenti è giustiziare, ebbene, allora tu sei un carnefice.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Tuo figlio l’uccisi per la sua presunzione.
RE ENRICO	Fossi stato ucciso quando presumesti la prima volta, non avresti vissuto per uccidere un figlio mio. E così profetizzo: che molte migliaia che ora non sospettano nulla del mio timore, e molti sospiri di vecchi, e molti di vedove, e molti occhi d’orfano gonfi d’acqua— uomini per i figli, mogli per i mariti, orfani per l’intempestiva morte dei genitori— piangeranno l’ora in cui tu nascesti. La civetta stridette alla tua nascita—segno maligno; il corvo della notte gridò, presagendo tempo infausto; cani ulularono, e orride tempeste abbatterono alberi; il corvo s’accovacciò in cima al camino; e gazze ciarliere cantarono in lugubri discordi. Tua madre sentì più del dolore d’una madre, e tuttavia partorì meno della speranza d’una madre— cioè, un grumo informe e deforme, non simile al frutto d’un albero così bello. Denti avesti in bocca quando nascesti, a significare che venivi a morder il mondo; e se è vero il resto che ho udito, tu venisti—
RICCARDO	Non udrò altro. Muori, profeta, nel tuo discorso, Lo pugnala ché a questo, fra l’altro, fui destinato.
RE ENRICO	Sì, e a molta più strage dopo questa. Oh, Dio perdoni i miei peccati, e perdoni te. Muore
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	Che—il sangue ambizioso di Lancaster affonderà nella terra? Credevo che sarebbe salito. Guarda come la mia spada piange per la morte del povero re. Oh, siano sempre versate tali lacrime purpuree da quelli che desiderano la caduta della nostra casa! Se qualche scintilla di vita ancora rimane, giù, giù all’inferno, e di’ che io ti mandai là— Lo pugnala di nuovo io che non ho né pietà, né amore, né timore. Davvero, è vero ciò che Enrico mi disse, ché ho spesso udito mia madre dire che venni al mondo coi piedi avanti. Non avevo ragione, credete, d’affrettarmi, e di cercar la rovina di chi usurpò il nostro diritto? La levatrice si stupì e le donne gridarono ‘Oh, Gesù ci benedica, è nato coi denti !— e così fu, il che chiaramente significava ch’io dovevo ringhiare e mordere e fare il cane. Dunque, poiché i cieli han foggiato così il mio corpo, renda l’inferno storta la mia mente per corrispondervi. Non ho avuto padre, non somiglio ad alcun padre; non ho fratello, non somiglio ad alcun fratello; e questa parola, ‘amore’, che i barbagrigi chiaman divina, risieda negli uomini simili l’uno all’altro e non in me—io sono me stesso, solo. Clarence, guàrdati; tu m’hai tenuto lontano dalla luce— ma io ti apparecchierò un giorno di pece. Ché farò ronzare intorno tali profezie che Edoardo temerà per la sua vita, e allora, per purgare il suo timore, io sarò la tua morte. Enrico e suo figlio non sono più; tu, Clarence, sei il prossimo; e a uno a uno spedirò gli altri, tenendomi per nulla finché non sia il primo. Getterò il tuo corpo in un’altra stanza e trionferò, Enrico, nel tuo giorno di rovina.
(didascalia)	Esce col corpo

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A chair of state. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Gray his Queen, George Duke off Clarence, Richard Duke of Gloucester, the Lord Hastings, a nurse carrying the infant Prince Edward, and attendants
KING EDWARD	Once more we sit in England’s royal throne, Repurchased with the blood of enemies. What valiant foemen, like to autumn’s corn, Have we mowed down in tops of all their pride! Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renowned For hardy and undoubted champions; Two Cliffords, as the father and the son; And two Northumbertands—two braver men Ne’er spurred their coursers at the trumpet’s sound. With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, That in their chains fettered the kingly lion And made the forest tremble when they roared. Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat And made our footstool of security. (To Lady Gray) Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. The nurse brings forth the infant prince. King Edward kisses him Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself Have in our armours watched the winter’s night, Went all afoot in summer’s scalding heat, That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace; And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	(aside) I’ll blast his harvest, an your head were laid; For yet I am not looked on in the world. This shoulder was ordained so thick to heave; And heave it shall some weight or break my back. Work thou the way, and thou shalt execute.
KING EDWARD	Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers, both.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	The duty that I owe unto your majesty I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. He kisses the infant prince
LADY GRAY	Thanks, noble Clarence—worthy brother, thanks.
RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER	And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang’st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. He kisses the infant prince (Aside) To say the truth, so Judas kissed his master, And cried ‘All hail!’ whenas he meant all harm.
KING EDWARD	Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country’s peace and brothers’ loves.
GEORGE OF CLARENCE	What will your grace have done with Margaret? René her father, to the King of France Hath pawned the Sicils and Jerusalem, And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
KING EDWARD	Away with her, and waft her hence to France. And now what rests but that we spend the time With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
(didascalia)	Sound drums and trumpets—fareweti, sour annoy!
KING EDWARD	For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt
ADDITIONAL PASSAGES	A. Our edition adopts the 1595 version of 1.1.120-5 in the belief that it reflects an authorial revision; an edited text of the Folio alternative follows.
KING HENRY	Peace, thou—and give King Henry leave to speak.
WARWICK	Plantagenet shall speak first—hear him, lords, And be you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him shall not live.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to York
WARWICK	Think’st thou that I will leave my kingly throne, B. The 1595 text abridges 5.4.82.1-5.5.17, and may reflect authorial revision. An edited text of the abridged passage follows:
ALL THE LANCASTER PARTY	Saint George for Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Alarums to the battle. The house of York flies, then the chambers are discharged. Then enter King Edward, George of Clarence, and Richard of Gloucester, and their followers: they make a great shout, and cry ‘For York! For York!’ Then Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, Oxford and Somerset are all taken prisoner. Flourish, and enter all again
KING EDWARD	Now here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight; For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Go, bear them hence—I will not hear them speak.
OXFORD	For my part, I’ll not trouble thee with words.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
SOMERSET	Nor I, but stoop with patience to my death.
(didascalia)	Exit, guarded
KING EDWARD	(to Prince Edward) Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make For stirring up my subjects to rebellion?
PRINCE EDWARD	Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York.
BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND	OTHERS
THE	play printed here first appeared in the 1623 Folio, as The First Part of Henry VI; it tells the beginning of the story that is continued in The First Part of the Contention and in Richard Duke of York. Although in narrative sequence it belongs before those plays, there is good reason to believe that it was written after them. It is probably the ‘new’ play referred to as ‘harey the vj’ in the record of its performance on 3 March 1592 by Lord Strange’s Men. The box-office takings of £3 16s. 8d. were a record for the season, and the play was acted another fifteen times during the following ten months. Its success is mentioned in Thomas Nashe’s satirical pamphlet Piers Penniless, published later in 1592. Defending the drama against moralistic attacks, Nashe claims that plays based on ‘our English chronicles’ celebrate ‘our forefathers’ valiant acts’ and set them up as a ‘reproof to these degenerate effeminate days of ours’. By way of illustration he alludes specifically to the exploits of Lord Talbot, the principal English warrior in Henry VI Part One: ‘How would it have joyed brave Talbot, the terror of the French, to think that after he had lain two hundred years in his tomb he should triumph again on the stage, and have his bones new-embalmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators at least, at several times, who in the tragedian that represents his person imagine they behold him fresh bleeding!’ Nashe may have had personal reasons to puff this play: a variety of evidence suggests that Shakespeare wrote it in collaboration with at least two other authors; Nashe himself was probably responsible for Act 1. The passages most confidently attributed to Shakespeare are Act 2, Scene 4 and Act 4, Scene 2 to the death of Talbot at 4.7.32. A mass of material, some derived from ‘English chronicles’, some invented, is packed into this play. It opens impressively with the funeral of Henry V, celebrated for unifying England and subjugating France; but his nobles are at loggerheads even over his coffin, and news rapidly arrives of serious losses in France. The rivalry displayed here between Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester—Protector of the infant Henry VI—and Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, plays an important part in both this play and The Contention, as does the conflict between Richard, Duke of York, and the houses of Somerset and Suffolk; in the Temple Garden scene (2.4), invented by Shakespeare, York’s and Somerset’s supporters symbolize their respective loyalties by plucking white and red roses. Their dissension weakens England’s military strength, but she has a great hero in Lord Talbot, whose nobility as a warrior is pitted against the treachery of the French, led by King Charles and Joan la Pucelle (Joan of Arc), here—following the chronicles—portrayed as a witch and a whore. Historical facts are freely manipulated: Joan was burnt in 1431, though the play’s authors have her take part in a battle of 1451 in which Talbot’s death is brought forward by two years. The play ends with an uneasy peace between England and France.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY The English
KING	Henry VI Duke of GLOUCESTER, Lord Protector, uncle of King Henry Duke of BEDFORD, Regent of France Duke of EXETER Bishop of WINCHESTER (later Cardinal), uncle of King Henry Duke of SOMERSET
RICHARD	PLANTAGENET, later DUKE OF YORK, and Regent of France Earl of WARWICK Earl of SALISBURY Earl of SUFFOLK Lord TALBOT
JOHN	Talbot Edmund MORTIMER Sir William GLASDALE Sir Thomas GARGRAVE Sir John FASTOLF Sir William LUCY WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower of London
MAYOR	of London
BASSET	A LAWYER A LEGATE Messengers, warders and keepers of the Tower of London, servingmen, officers, captains, soldiers, herald, watch The French CHARLES, Dauphin of France RENÉ, Duke of Anjou, King of Naples MARGARET, his daughter Duke of ALENÇON
BASTARD	of Orléans Duke of BURGUNDY, uncle of King Henry
GENERAL	of the French garrison at Bordeaux
COUNTESS	of Auvergne
MASTER GUNNER	of Orléans A BOY, his son
JOAN	la Pucelle A SHEPHERD, father of Joan Porter, French sergeant, French sentinels, French scout, French herald, the Governor of Paris, fiends, and soldiers

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un trono. Squilli. Entrano re Edoardo, madama Gray sua regina, Giorgio duca dii Clarence, Riccardo duca di Gloucester, lord Hastings, una nutrice che porta il piccolo principe Edoardo, e servitori
RE EDOARDO	Ancora una volta sediamo sul regale trono d’Inghilterra, riconquistato col sangue dei nemici. Quali valorosi nemici, come il grano d’autunno, abbiamo falciato al culmine di tutto il loro orgoglio! Tre duchi di Somerset, tre volte rinomati come campioni intrepidi e indubitati; due Clifford, il padre e il figlio; e due Northumbertand—due uomini più prodi mai spronarono i loro corsieri al suono della tromba. Con loro, i due bravi orsi, Warwick e Montague, che nelle loro catene avvinsero il regale leone e fecero tremare la foresta quando ruggivano. Così abbiamo spazzato il sospetto dal nostro seggio e fatto della sicurezza il nostro sgabello. (A madama Gray) Vieni qua, Bess, e lascia ch’io baci il mio bambino. La nutrice porta avanti il piccolo principe. Re Edoardo lo bacia Giovane Ned, per te, i tuoi zii e io stesso abbiamo vegliato nelle armature la notte d’inverno, camminato a piedi nel calore bruciante dell’estate, perché tu potessi possedere in pace la corona; e delle nostre fatiche tu raccoglierai il frutto.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	(a parte) Guasterò il suo raccolto, quando la tua testa sarà deposta; ché ancora non sono guardato nel mondo. Questa spalla fu fatta così grossa per sollevare; e solleverà qualche peso o mi romperà la schiena. Tu apparecchia la via, e tu eseguirai.
RE EDOARDO	Clarence e Gloucester, amate la mia amabile regina; e baciate il vostro principesco nipote, fratelli, entrambi.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Il dovere che devo a vostra maestà lo sigillo sulle labbra di questo dolce bimbo. Bacia il piccolo principe
MADAMA GRAY	Grazie, nobile Clarence—degno fratello, grazie.
RICCARDO DI GLOUCESTER	E che io ami l’albero d’onde tu germogliasti, ne sia testimone l’amoroso bacio che dono al frutto. Bacia il piccolo principe (A parte) A dire la verità, così Giuda baciò il suo maestro, e gridò ‘Salve!’ mentre intendeva ogni male.
RE EDOARDO	Ora siedo come la mia anima si compiace, avendo la pace del mio paese e l’amore dei fratelli.
GIORGIO DI CLARENCE	Che vuole vostra grazia che si faccia di Margherita? Renato suo padre, al re di Francia ha impegnato le Sicilie e Gerusalemme, e qui hanno mandato il denaro per il suo riscatto.
RE EDOARDO	Portatela via, e traghettatela di qui in Francia. E ora che resta se non che passiamo il tempo con solenni trionfi e allegri spettacoli comici, quali s’addicono al piacere della corte?
(didascalia)	Suonino tamburi e trombe—addiio, aspro affanno!
RE EDOARDO	Ché qui, spero, comincia la nostra gioia durevole.
(didascalia)	Squilli. Escono
PASSI AGGIUNTIVI	A. La nostra edizione adotta la versione del 1595 di 1.1.120-5 nella convinzione che rifletta una revisione d’autore; segue un testo curato dell’alternativa del Folio.
RE ENRICO	Pace, tu—e lascia parlare re Enrico.
WARWICK	Plantageneto parlerà primo—uditelo, signori, e state silenziosi e attenti anche voi, ché chi lo interrompe non vivrà.
(didascalia)	RE ENRICO a York
WARWICK	Credi tu che io lascerò il mio trono regale, B. Il testo del 1595 abbrevia 5.4.82.1-5.5.17, e può riflettere una revisione d’autore. Segue un testo curato del passo abbreviato:
TUTTA LA PARTE DI LANCASTER	San Giorgio per Lancaster!
(didascalia)	Squilli d’allarme per la battaglia. La casa di York fugge, poi i pezzi vengono scaricati. Poi entrano re Edoardo, Giorgio di Clarence, e Riccardo di Gloucester, e i loro seguaci: emettono un gran grido, e gridano ‘Per York! Per York!’ Poi la regina Margherita, il principe Edoardo, Oxford e Somerset sono tutti fatti prigionieri. Squilli, ed entrano di nuovo tutti
RE EDOARDO	Ora qui un termine ai tumultuosi conflitti. Via con Oxford, subito al castello di Hames; quanto a Somerset, giù la sua testa colpevole. Andate, portateli via di qui—non voglio udirli parlare.
OXFORD	Per la mia parte, non ti darò noia con parole.
(didascalia)	Esce, sotto scorta
SOMERSET	Né io, ma mi piegherò con pazienza alla mia morte.
(didascalia)	Esce, sotto scorta
RE EDOARDO	(al principe Edoardo) Edoardo, quale soddisfazione puoi tu dare per aver sollevato i miei sudditi alla ribellione?
PRINCIPE EDOARDO	Parla come un suddito, superbo ambizioso York.