RICHARD DUKE OF YORK - (3 HENRY VI)

by Shakespeare · Cluster: Wars of the Roses

Abstract

History play of the full Wars of the Roses: the see-saw struggle between York and Lancaster, the murder of York, the savagery of Margaret, the brief reign of Edward IV, and the emergence of the scheming Richard of Gloucester. Themes of revenge, ambition, kingship, fate, and the horror of civil war.

Capitoli / Chapters

• Act I, Scene 1
• Act I, Scene 2
• Act I, Scene 3
• Act I, Scene 4
• Act II, Scene 1
• Act II, Scene 3
• Act II, Scene 5
• Act II, Scene 6
• Act III, Scene 1
• Act III, Scene 2
• Act IV, Scene 1
• Act IV, Scene 2
• Act IV, Scene 3
• Act IV, Scene 4
• Act IV, Scene 5
• Act IV, Scene 6
• Act IV, Scene 7
• Act IV, Scene 8
• Act IV, Scene 9
• Act V, Scene 1
• Act V, Scene 2
• Act V, Scene 3
• Act V, Scene 4
• Act V, Scene 5
• Act V, Scene 6
• Act V, Scene 7

Connections

Topoi: Fortune’s Wheel, World Upside Down, Theatrum Mundi Archetypes: Usurper, King, Avenger, Villain, Tyrant Motifs: Crown, Blood, Swords and Weapons, White and Red, Rose, Death Themes & Concepts: Kingship and Legitimacy, Ambition, Revenge, Power and Corruption, War and its Cost, Order vs Chaos, Fate and Free Will, Providence Forms & Genres: History Play, Verse Drama, Tragedy Historical References: Wars of the Roses, Medieval England Settings: Battlefield, Medieval England (2) Characters: Henry VI, Queen Margaret, Duke of York, Edward IV, Richard III, Earl of Warwick, Clarence, Clifford

Testo integrale / Full text

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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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