The works of William Shakspeare, life, glossary &c. repr. from the early eds. and compared with recent commentators

His dukedom and his chair with me is left. Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird,

Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say;

Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. March. Enter Warwick and Montague, with forces.

War. How now, fair lords!

What fare? what news abroad? [recount Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should Our baleful news, and at each word's deliv'rance,

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.
Edw. O Warwick, Warwick! that Planta-
genet,
[tion,
Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemp-
Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death.
War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news
in tears;

And now, to add more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things sith then befallen.
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
Where your brave father breath'd his latest
gasp,

Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
Were brought me of your loss, and his depart.
I, then in London, keeper of the king,
Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends,
And very well appointed, as I thought,
March'd towards St. Albans to intercept the
Bearing the king in my behalf along; [queen,
For by my scouts I was advértised,
That she was coming with a full intent
To dash our late decree in parliament,
Touching king Henry's oath, and your
Short tale to make,-we at St. Albans met,
Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely
fought:

Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle
Warwick?
[England?
And when came George from Burgundy to
War. Some six miles off the duke is with

the soldiers;

And for your brother, he was lately sent
From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy,
With aid of soldiers to this needful war.

Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant
Warwick fled:

Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire.

War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost
thou hear;
[of mine
For thou shalt know, this strong right hand
Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head,
And wring the awful sceptre from his fist,
Were he as famous, and as bold in war,
As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer.
Rich. I know it well, Lord Warwick;
blame me not:

'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak.
But, in this troublous time, what's to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
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.

War. 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.
He swore consent to your succession,
His oath enrolled in the parliament;
[sion. And now to London all the crew are gone,
succes-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,

But whether 'twas the coldness of the king,
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen,
That robb'd 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 captives - blood and
death,

I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
Our soldiers'-like the night-owl's lazy flight,
Or like a lazy thresher with a flail, —
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay, and great rewards:
But all in vain; they had no heart to fight,
And we, in them, no hope to win the day;
So that we fled; the king unto the queen ;
Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself,
In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you;
For in the marches here, we heard, you were,
Making another head to fight again.

Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? K. Hen. 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 infring'd my vow.

Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity, must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her 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, bless'd with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, Which argu'd 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 (flight)

And long hereafter say unto his child,-
"What my great-grandfather and grandsire
My careless father fondly gave away?" [got,
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.
[orator,
K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the
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 thousand-fold more care to keep,
Than in possession any jot of pleasure. [know,
Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!
Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits:

our foes are nigh, [faint. And this soft courage makes your followers You promis'd knighthood to our forward son: Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down.

K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And learn this lesson,-Draw thy sword in right.

Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, [leave, And in that quarrel use it to the death. Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward Enter a Messenger. [prince. Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness: For with a band of thirty thousand men Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York; And in the towns, as they do march along, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: Darraign your battle, for they are at hand. Clif. I would your highness would depart the field:

[absent.

lords,

And hearten those that fight in your defence:
Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry,
"Saint George!

March. Enter Edward, George, Richard,
Warwick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers.
Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel
for grace,

Which sometime they have us'd with fearful
Make war with him that climb'd unto their And set thy diadem upon my head;
[fence? Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

nest,

Offering their own lives in their young's deFor shame, my liege, make them your preWere it not pity that this goodly boy [cedent! Should lose his birthright by his father's fault,

Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!

Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,
Before thy sov'reign, and thy lawful king?

Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his I was adopted heir by his consent : [knee; Since when, his oath is broke: for, as I hear, You, that are king, though he do wear the

crown,

Have caus'd him, by new Act of Parliament,
To blot out me, and put his own son in.
Clif. And reason too:

Who should succeed the father, but the son?
Rich. Are you there, butcher?-O, I can-
not speak!
[thee,

Clif. Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland,
was it not?
[fied.
Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satis-
Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to
the fight.
[yield the crown?
War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou
Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd
Warwick! dare you speak?

When you and I met at St Albans last,
Your legs did better service than your hands.
War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now
'tis thine.
[fled.
Clif. You said so much before, and yet you
War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford,
drove me thence.

Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire
nor dam;

But like a foul mis-shaped stigmatick,
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.
Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,
Whose father bears the title of a king,
(As if a channel should be call'd the sea,)
Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art
extraught,

To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?
Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thou-
sand 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 wrong'd
By that false woman, as this king by thee.
His father revell'd in the heart of France,
And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin
stoop;

And had he match'd according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day; But when he took a beggar to his bed, And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day, Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, [France, That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of North. No, nor your manhood, that durst | And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride?

child?

[ently.

make you stay. Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverBreak off the parley; for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. Clif. I slew thy father,-cail'st thou him a [coward, Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; But ere sun-set I'll make thee curse the deed. K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. [thy lips. Q. Mar. Defy them, then, or else hold close K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. [tongue Clif. My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here,

Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.
Rich. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy
sword:

By him that made us all, I am resolv'd,
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.
Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or

no?

Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept ;
And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

Geo. But when we saw our sunshine made

thy spring,

And that thy summer bred us no increase,
We set the axe to thy usurping root: [selves,
And though the edge hath something hit our-
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down,
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.

Edw. And in this resolution I defy thee;
:Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.-
Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours
And either victory, or else a grave. [wave!-
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.

There is no wrong, but everything is right.
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother

stands;

For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.

[stay:

Edw. No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer These words will cost ten thousand lives today. [Exeunt. SCENE III.-A field of battle between Towton and Saxton, in Yorkshire.

Geo. Our hap is lost, our hope but sad deOur ranks are broke, and ruin follows us : What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings;

And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. Enter Richard.

Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?

Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,

Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance ;

And, in the very pangs of death, he cried, Like to a dismal clangor heard from far, "Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my

death!"

So, underneath the belly of their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,

The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

War. Then let the earth be drunken with

our blood:

I'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 play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
Here on my knee I vow to God above,
I'll never pause again, never stand still,
Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
Edw. 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,
[thee,
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to
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!
Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth.
Ruh. 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 spring-time so.
War. Away, away! Once more, sweet
lords, farewell.

Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops,
And give them leave to fly that will not stay;
And call them pillars that will stand to us;
And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards
As victors wear at the Olympian games:
This may plant courage in their quailing
breasts;

For yet is hope of life, and victory. Foreslow no longer; make we hence amain. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.--Another Part of the Field. Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford. Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone :

Suppose this arm is for the duke of York,
And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge,
Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone :

This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York, And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; [death,

And here's the heart that triumphs in their And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and To execute the like upon thyself; [brother, And so, have at thee.

[They fight. Warwick enters; Clifford flies. Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase;

For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V.-Another Part of the Field.
Alarum. Enter King Henry.

K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morn

ing's war,
[light,
When dying clouds contend with growing
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind: [wind;
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the
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 make the hour full complete;
How many hours bring about the day;
How many days will finish up the year;
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times,-
So many hours must I tend my flock;
So many hours must I take my rest;
So many hours must I contemplate;
So many hours must I sport myself;
So many days my ewes have been with young;

So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean;
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
Pass'd over to the end they were created,
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how
lovely!

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?
O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold, it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely

curds,

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed,
When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his

Father, with the dead body.

Son. 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.-
Who's this?-O God! it is my father's face,
Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd.
O heavy times, begetting such events!
From London by the king was I press'd forth;
My father, being the earl of Warwick's man,
Came on the part of York, press'd by his
master;

And I, who at his hands received my life,
Have by my hands of life bereaved him.—
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did!-
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee!-
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks;
And no more words, till they have flow'd their
fill.
[times!
K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody
While 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 who has killed his Son, with the body in his arms.

Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; For I have bought it with a hundred blows. But let me see :-is this our foeman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, [arise, Throw up thine eye! see, see, what showers Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and O, pity, God, this miserable age! [heart!What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,

My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre ;
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go;
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
And so obsequious will thy father be,
Sad for the loss of thee, having no more,
As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that
For I have murder'd where I should not kill.
[Exit with the body.
K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone
with care,

[will,

Here sits a king more woful than you are. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince of Wales, and Exeter. Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled,

And Warwick rages like a chafèd bull:
Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.
Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord; towards
Berwick post amain :
[hounds
Edward and Kichard, like a brace of grey-
Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along

with them:

Nay, stay not to expostulate; make speed; Or else come after I'll away before.

K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter.

Not that I fear to stay, but love to go

« Anterior Continuar »

Livros

The works of William Shakspeare, life, glossary &c. repr. from the ..., Parte 73