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Exe. No; for he could not so resign his crown, But that the next heir should succeed and reign. K. Hen. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter? Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?

Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful king. K. Hen. All will revolt from me, and turn to him.

North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, Think not, that Henry shall be so depos'd.

War. Depos'd he shall be in despite of all. North. Thou art deceiv'd: '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.

Clif. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence:
May that ground gape, and swallow me alive,
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father!
K. Hen. O Clifford, how thy words revive my
heart!

York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown. What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?

War. Do right unto this princely duke of York, Or I will fill the house with armed men, And, o'er the chair of state, where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood.

[He stamps, and the Soldiers show themselves.

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Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.

But be it as it may, I here entail

The crown to thee, and to thine heirs for ever; Conditionally, that here thou take an oath To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, To honour me as thy king and sovereign; And neither by treason, nor hostility, To seek to put me down, and reign thyself. York. This oath I willingly take, and will perform. [Coming from the Throne. War. Long live king Henry!-Plantagenet, embrace him.

K. Hen. And long live thou, and these thy forward sons!

York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. Exe. Accurs'd be he, that seeks to make them foes! [Sennet. The Lords come forward. York. Farewell, my gracious lord: I'll to my castle.

War. And I'll keep London with my soldiers.
Norf. And I to Norfolk with my followers.
Mont. And I unto the sea from whence I came.
[Exeunt YORK, and his Sons, WARWICK,
NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, Soldiers, and
Attendants.

K. Hen. And I, with grief and sorrow, to the

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[Going.

Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee.

K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay.

Q. Mar. Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid, And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father! Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ? Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I did for him once, Or nourish'd 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. Father, you cannot disinherit me. If you be king, why should not I succeed?

K. Hen. Pardon me, Margaret;-pardon me,

sweet son :

The earl of Warwick, and the duke, enforc'd me. Q. Mar. Enforc'd thee! art thou king, and wilt be forc'd?

I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch!
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me,
And given unto the house of York such head,
As thou 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 Faulconbridge commands the narrow seas;
The duke is made protector of the realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds

The trembling lamb, environed with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their 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 repeal'd,
Whereby my son is disinherited.

The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colours,
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread;
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace,
And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee.-Come, son, let's away:
Our army is ready; come, we'll after them.
K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me
speak.

Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone.

K. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?

Q. Mar. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies. Prince. When I return with victory from the

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The crown of England, father, which is yours. York. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be dead. Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death.

Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe. It will outrun you, father, in the end.

York. I took an oath that he should quietly reign. Edw. But for a kingdom any oath may be

broken:

I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year. Rich. No: God forbid, your grace should be forsworn.

York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak.

York. Thou canst not, son: it is impossible. Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate, That hath authority over him that swears: Henry had none, but did usurp the place; Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think, How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest, Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.

York. Richard, enough: I will be king, or die.-
Brother, thou shalt to London presently
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.-
Thou, Richard, shalt to the duke of Norfolk,
And tell him privily of our intent.-
You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise:
In them I trust; for they are soldiers,
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.-

While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more,
But that I seek occasion how to rise,
And yet the king not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster?

Enter a Messenger.

But, stay. What news? Why com'st thou in such post?

Mess. 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.

Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not: And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [Exit. Enter Sir JOHN, and Sir HUGH MORTIMER. York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,

You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.

Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in the field.

York. What, with five thousand men? Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need.

A woman's general; what should we fear?

[A march afar off.

Edw. I hear their drums: let's set our men in

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SCENE III.-Plains near Sandal Castle. Alarums: excursions. Enter RUTLAND, and his Tutor.

Rut. Ah! whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands?

Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes.

Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers.

Clif. Chaplain, away: thy priesthood saves thy life.

As for the brat of this accursed duke,

Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company.
Clif. Soldiers, away with him.

Tut. Ah, Clifford murder not this innocent child,

Lest thou be hated both of God and man.

[Exit, forced off by Soldiers.

Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it fear,

That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open them.
Rut. 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 threatening look.
Sweet Clifford! hear me speak before I die:
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath;
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy my fa

ther's blood

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should

enter.

Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again : He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine,

Were not revenge sufficient for me.
No; if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
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-

Rut. O! let me pray before 1 take my death.— To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me!

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harın: why wilt thou slay me?

Clif. Thy father hath. Rut.

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.
Clif. No cause?

Thy father slew my father: therefore, die.
[CLIFFORD stabs him.
Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ !
[Dies.

Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood Congeal'd with this do make me wipe off both.

[Exit.

SCENE IV.-The Same.

Alarum. Enter YORK.

York. The army of the queen hath got the field:
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back, and fly like ships before the wind,
Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons-God knows, what hath bechanced them.
But this I know,-they have demean'd themselves
Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me,
And thrice cried,-" Courage, father! fight it out:"
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encounter'd 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 charg'd again; but, out alas!
We bodg'd 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 number'd, that make up my life;
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter Queen MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUM
BERLAND, and Soldiers.
Come, bloody Clifford,―rough Northumberland,-
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage.
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm
With downright payment show'd unto my father.
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.

York. My ashes, as the 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? Clif. 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'er-run 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.

Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word. But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand

causes

I would prolong awhile the traitor's life.— Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland.

North. Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much

To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his 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.

[They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Clif. Ay, ay; so strives the woodcock with the gin.

North. So doth the coney struggle in the net. [YORK is taken prisoner. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty;

So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd. North. What would your grace have done unto him now?

Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,

Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
That raught at mountains with outstretched arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.-
What! was it you, that would be England's king?
Was't you that revell'd in our parliament,
And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy,
Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling voice,
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?

Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point

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Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
And, if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state.

I pr'ythee, grieve to make me merry, York:
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails,
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?
Why art thou patient man? thou should'st be mad;
And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport:
York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.-
A crown for York !-and, lords, bow low to him.-
Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.-
[Putting a paper crown on his head.
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king.

Ay, this is he that took king Henry's chair;
And this is he was his adopted heir.-
But how is it, that great Plantagenet

Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath?
As I 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; and, with the crown, his head!
And whilst we breathe take time to do him dead.
Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake.
Q. Mar. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he
makes.

York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France;

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