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Alarum. Enter a Son, that had kill'd bis Father,
Son. Il blows the wind, that profits no body.
father's face, Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd: Oh heavy times, begetting such events !: From London by the King was I prest forth ; My father being the Earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, preft by his master ; And I, who at his hands receiv'd 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 fhall wipe away these bloody marks : And no more words, till they have fow'd their fill..
K. Henry. O piteous fpectacle ! 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'ercharg'd with grief.
Enter a Father, bearing bis Son. Fath. Thou, that fo ftoutly haft resisted me,, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: For I have bought it with an hundred blows. But let me fee : is this our foesman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is my only fon! Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw up thine eyes; see, fee, what show'rs arise, Blown with the windy tempeft of my heart Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart. O pity, God, this miserable age ! What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!
K. Henry. Woe above woe; grief more than common
Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfy’d?
Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfy'd ? (chances,
K. Henry. How will the country, for these woeful Mif-think the King, and not be fatisfy'd ?
Son. Was ever fon, so ru'd a father's death? Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd his fon? K. Henry. Was ever King, fo griev'd for subjects woe? Much is
your forrow ; mine, ten times so much. Son. I'll bear thee hence; where I may weep my fill:
[Exit. Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet, My heart, sweet boy, lhall be thy sepulchre ; For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. My fighing breast Mall be thy funeral bell: And lo obsequious will thy father be, Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant fons. I'll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will ; For I have murder'd where I should not kill. [Exit.
K. Henry. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care; Here tits a King more woeful than you are. Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, Prince of Wales,
and Exeter. Prince. Fly, father, fly, for all your friends are fed ; And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:
Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. [amain.
Queen. Mount you, my Lord, towards Berwick post Edward and Richard, like a brace of grey-hounds Having the fearful flying hare in fight, With fiery, eyes sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel graspt in their ireful hands, Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
Exe. Away ; for vengeance comes along with them. Nay, stay not to expoftulate, make speed: Or else come after, I'll away before.
K. 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.
A loud Alarum. Erter Clifford wounded. (12)
Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, Which, while 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 glew'd many friends to thee; (Falling. And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt, Impairing Henry, strengthning mis-proud York. The common people swarm like summer-flies; (13)
(12) Enter Clifford wounded.] In the ist quarto, there is this cir. cumstance added; Enter Clifford wounded, with an arrow in bis necká The players, in their edition, had reason to make a retrenchment of this; for, no doubt, 'twas a point of ridicule to see an actor come upon the stage to die, with an arrow fixt in his neck. And this paff ge I find rallied by Beaumont and Fletcher in their Knight of the Burning Peftle. For Ralph, the grocer's prentice, is there introduc'd, with a forked arrow through bis bead; and makes a long burlesque harangue in a bantering imitation of Clifford's speech here. Take a Thort sample of his last dying words.
Farewel, all you good boys in merry Lordon,
[Dies (13) The common people swarm like summer fies.] This line, which is a necessary introduction to that which follows, and which is left out in all the other impressions, I have restor’d from the old quarto.
And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun ?
[He faints. Alarum, and Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard,
Montague, Clarence, and Soldiers.
War. No, 'tis imposible he should escape:
(Clifford groans. Rich. Whose soul is that, which takes her heavy leave ?:
A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.
Edw. And now the battle's ended,
Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford;
War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head,
Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owi to our house, That nothing
sung but death to us and ours : Now death Tall ftop his dismal threatning sound, And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
War. I think, his understanding is bereft:
Rich. O, would he did! and fo, perhaps, he doth.
Cla. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words. Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. Cla. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. Rich. Thou didit love York, and I am son to York. Edw. Thou pitied'it Rutland, I will pity thee. Cla. Where's Captain Margaret to fence you now? War. They mock thee, Clifford; swear, as thou wast wont. Rich. 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 despight might rail at him,