Lancastrians
KING HENRY VI
QUEEN MARGARET
PRINCE EDWARD, their son
Lord CLIFFORD
Duke of EXETER
Duke of SOMERSET, adherent of both Lancaster and York
Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND
Earl of WESTMORLAND
Earl of OXFORD
Henry, Earl of Richmond, the future King Henry VII
Mayor of Coventry
SOMERVILLE
A FATHER who has killed his son in battle, while fighting for Lancaster
A HUNTSMAN
Yorkists
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of YORK
EDWARD, Earl of March, his eldest son, later KING EDWARD IV
GEORGE, his second son, later Duke of CLARENCE
RICHARD, his third son, later Duke of GLOUCESTER, the future King Richard III
Edmund, his youngest son, Earl of RUTLAND
TUTOR to Rutland
Duke of NORFOLK
Earl of WARWICK
MONTAGUE, brother to Warwick
Earl of PEMBROKE
Lord STAFFORD
Lord HASTINGS
Sir JOHN MORTIMER
Sir Hugh Mortimer
Sir William STANLEY
Sir John MONTGOMERY
Elizabeth, LADY GREY, later QUEEN ELIZABETH
Lord RIVERS, her brother (adherent first of Lancaster, then of York)
Prince Edward, infant son of Edward IV and Lady Grey
MAYOR of York
LIEUTENANT of the Tower of London
A SON who has killed his father in battle, while fighting for York
NURSE of Prince Edward of York
NOBLEMAN
Three WATCHMEN
The French
KING LEWIS XI of France
Lady BONA of Savoy
Lord Bourbon
Others
Two GAMEKEEPERS
MESSENGERS
POSTS
Two Aldermen of York
Soldiers, Drummers, Trumpeters, Colours (military flagbearers), Attendants
Alarum. Enter Plantagenet, [the Duke of York,] Edward, Richard, Norfolk, Montague, Warwick [with white roses in their hats,] and Soldiers
He slyly stole away and left his men:
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland,
5 Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,5
Cheered up the drooping6 army, and himself,
Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
Charged our main battle’s8 front, and breaking in,
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
Is either slain or wounded dangerous.11
I cleft12 his beaver with a downright blow.
That this is true, father, behold his blood.
15 Whom I encountered15 as the battles joined.
But is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset?
Before22 I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
25 This is the palace of the fearful25 king,
And this the regal seat: possess26 it, York,
For this is thine and not King Henry’s heirs’.
For hither we have broken in by force.
And soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. They go up [to the throne]
Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.34
But little thinks we shall be of her council.
By words or blows here let us win our right.
40 Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king,
And bashful41 Henry deposed, whose cowardice
Hath made us bywords42 to our enemies.
I mean to take possession of my right.
The proudest he that holds up46 Lancaster,
Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.47
I’ll plant48 Plantagenet, root him up who dares.
Resolve thee, Richard: claim the English crown.
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmorland, Exeter [with red roses in their hats,] and the rest
Even in the chair of state:51 belike he means,
Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer,52
To aspire unto the crown and reign as king.
Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father,
55 And thine, Lord Clifford, and you both have vowed revenge
On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends.
60 My heart for anger burns. I cannot brook60 it.
He durst not63 sit there had your father lived.
My gracious lord, here in the parliament
65 Let us assail65 the family of York.
And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?68
To make a shambles71 of the parliament house.—
Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats
Shall be the war that Henry means to use.—
Thou factious74 Duke of York, descend my throne,
75 And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet.
I am thy sovereign.
In following this usurping Henry.
And that the Lord of Westmorland shall maintain.89
That we are those which chased you from the field91
And slew your fathers, and with colours92 spread
Marched through the city to the palace gates.
95 And by his95 soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I’ll have more lives
Than drops of blood were in my father’s veins.
100 I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger100
As shall revenge his death before I stir.
If not, our swords shall plead104 it in the field.
Thy father106 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 dauphin109 and the French to stoop
110 And seized upon their towns and provinces.
When I was crowned, I was but nine months old.
115 Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head.
Let’s fight it out and not stand cavilling118 thus.
And be you silent and attentive too,
For he that interrupts him shall not live.
Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?
No: first shall war unpeople127 this my realm;
Ay, and their colours, often borne in France,
And now in England to our heart’s great sorrow,
130 Shall be my winding-sheet.130 Why faint you, lords?
My title’s good, and better far than his.
Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?
For Richard, in the view of many lords,
140 Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth,
Whose heir my father was, and I am his.
And made him to resign his crown perforce.
145 Think you ’twere145 prejudicial to his crown?
But that the next heir147 should succeed and reign.
Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.
Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,
Can set the duke up159 in despite of me.
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!
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
Or I will fill the house with armèd men,
And over the chair of state, where now he sits,
170 Write up his title with usurping blood.170
He stamps with his foot and the Soldiers show themselves
Let me for this my lifetime reign as king.
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv’st.
Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.
185 In whose cold185 blood no spark of honour bides.
And die in bands187 for this unmanly deed.
Or live in peace abandoned and despised.
[Exeunt Northumberland, Clifford and Westmorland]
195 Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
But be it as it may.— I here entail196 To York
The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever,
Conditionally,198 that here thou take an oath
To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live,
200 To honour me as thy king and sovereign,
And neither by treason nor hostility
To seek to put me down202 and reign thyself.
Sennet. Here they come down
[Exeunt York, his sons and their Soldiers]
[Exit]
[Exit]
[Exit]
Enter the Queen [Margaret, with Prince Edward]
I’ll steal away. Starts to leave
Ah, wretched man, would219 I had died a maid
220 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 pain224 which I did for him once,
225 Or nourished him as I did with my blood,225
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there,
Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir
And disinherited thine only son.
230 If you be king, why should not I succeed?
The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me.
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch,
235 Thou hast undone235 thyself, thy son and me,
And given unto the House of York such head236
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.237
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre239
240 And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais,
Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas,242
The duke243 is made protector of the realm,
And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds
245 The trembling lamb environèd245 with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly246 woman,
The soldiers should have tossed247 me on their pikes
Before I would have granted248 to that act.
But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honour.
250 And seeing thou dost, I250 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 forsworn254 thy colours
255 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.
265 I’ll see your grace: till then I’ll follow her.
[Exeunt Queen Margaret and Prince Edward]
Hath made her break out into terms of rage.
Revenged may she be on that hateful duke,
270 Whose haughty spirit, wingèd with desire,
Will cost271 my crown, and like an empty eagle
Tire272 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.274
275 Come, cousin you shall be the messenger.
Flourish. Exeunt
Enter Richard, Edward and Montague
Enter the Duke of York
5 What is your quarrel? How began it first?
The crown of England, father, which is yours.
By giving the House of Lancaster leave to breathe,13
It will outrun14 you, father, in the end.
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
Before a true and lawful magistrate,
That hath authority over him that swears.
25 Henry had none, but did usurp the place.
Then, seeing ’twas he that made you to depose,26
Your oath, my lord, is vain27 and frivolous.
Therefore to arms: and, father, do but think
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
30 Within whose circuit30 is Elysium
And all that poets feign31 of bliss and joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest
Until the white rose that I wear be dyed33
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry’s heart.
Brother, thou shalt to London presently,36
And whet on37 Warwick to this enterprise.
Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk,
And tell him privily39 of our intent.
40 You Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise.41
In them I trust, for they are soldiers,
Witty,43 courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
While you are thus employed, what resteth more,44
45 But that I seek occasion45 how to rise,
And yet the king not privy46 to my drift,
Nor any of the House of Lancaster?
Enter a Messenger
But stay.48 What news? Why com’st thou in such post?
50 Intend here to besiege you in your castle.
She is hard51 by with twenty thousand men,
And therefore fortify your hold,52 my lord.
[Exit]
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me,
55 My brother Montague shall post55 to London.
Let noble Warwick Cobham and the rest,
Whom we have left protectors of the king,
With powerful policy58 strengthen themselves,
And trust not simple59 Henry nor his oaths.
And thus most humbly I do take my leave.
Exit
Enter [John] Mortimer and his brother [Hugh]
You are come to Sandal in a happy63 hour.
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.
A woman’s general: what should we fear?
A march afar off
70 And issue forth and bid them battle straight.70
I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France,
Whenas74 the enemy hath been ten to one.
75 Why should I not now have the like75 success?
Alarum. Exeunt
Enter Rutland and his Tutor
Ah, tutor, look where bloody2 Clifford comes.
Enter Clifford [and Soldiers]
As for the brat of this accursèd duke,4
5 Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
Lest thou be hated both of9 God and man.
Exit [dragged off by Soldiers]
That makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them.
That trembles under his devouring paws:
And so he walks, insulting14 o’er his prey,
15 And so he comes, to rend15 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 mean19 a subject for thy wrath.
20 Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
Hath stopped the22 passage where thy words should enter.
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope24 with him.
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 slake29 mine ire, nor ease my heart.
30 The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury31 to torment my soul,
And till I root out their accursèd line
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore— Raises his rapier
To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me! Kneels?
Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me,
Lest in revenge thereof, sith42 God is just,
He be as miserably slain as I.
Ah, let me live in prison all my days,
45 And when I give occasion45 of offence,
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Thy father slew my father: therefore, die. Stabs him
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.
Exit
Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of York
My uncles2 both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to3 the eager foe
Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind,
5 Or lambs pursued by hunger-starvèd wolves.
My sons, God knows what hath bechancèd6 them:
But this I know, they have demeaned7 themselves
Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane9 to me,
10 And thrice cried ‘Courage, father, fight it out!’
And full as oft11 came Edward to my side,
With purple12 falchion, painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encountered13 him.
And when the hardiest14 warriors did retire,
15 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,18
We bodged19 again, as I have seen a swan
20 With bootless20 labour swim against the tide
And spend21 her strength with overmatching waves.
A short alarum within
Ah, hark, the fatal22 followers do pursue,
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury.
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury.
25 The sands25 are numbered that makes up my life.
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter the Queen, Clifford, Northumberland, the young Prince and Soldiers
Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
I am your butt,29 and I abide your shot.
With downright payment,32 showed unto my father.
Now Phaethon33 hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.34
A bird36 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?39
So doves do peck the falcon’s piercing talons,
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives gainst the officers.
45 An in thy thought o’er-run45 my former time:
An if thou canst for46 blushing, view this face,
And bite thy tongue that slanders him with cowardice
Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this!
50 But buckler50 with thee blows, twice two for one.
I would prolong awhile the traitor’s life.—
Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland.
55 To prick thy finger, though to55 wound his heart.
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,56
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn58 him with his foot away?
It is war’s prize59 to take all vantages,
60 And ten60 to one is no impeach of valour. They seize York, who struggles
So true64 men yield, with robbers so o’ermatched.
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
That raught68 at mountains with outstretchèd arms,
Yet parted69 but the shadow with his hand.—
70 What, was it you that would be England’s king? To York
Was’t you that revelled71 in our parliament,
And made a preachment72 of your high descent?
Where are your mess73 of sons to back you now,
The wanton74 Edward and the lusty George?
75 And where’s that valiant crook-back prodigy,75
Dicky, your boy, that with his grumbling76 voice
Was wont77 to cheer his dad in mutinies?
Or with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York, I stained this napkin79 with the blood
80 That valiant Clifford, with his rapier’s point,
Made issue81 from the bosom of the boy.
And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.83
Alas poor York, but84 that I hate thee deadly,
85 I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee86 grieve to make me merry, York.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parched87 thine entrails
That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death?
Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad.
90 And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Stamp, rave and fret,91 that I may sing and dance.
Thou wouldst be fee’d,92 I see, to make me sport.
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown.
A crown for York! And, lords, bow low to him.
95 Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. Puts a paper crown on his head
Ay, marry,96 sir, now looks he like a king.
Ay, this is he that took King Henry’s chair,97
And this is he was his adopted heir.
But how is it that great Plantagenet
100 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 pale103 your head in Henry’s glory,
And rob his temples of the diadem,104
105 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,108 take time to do him dead.
Whose tongue more poisons than the adder’s tooth!
How ill-beseeming113 is it in thy sex
To triumph,114 like an Amazonian trull,
115 Upon their woes whom fortune captivates!115
But that thy face is vizard-like,116 unchanging,
Made impudent117 with use of evil deeds,
I would assay,118 proud queen, to make thee blush.
To tell thee whence119 thou cam’st, of whom derived,
120 Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless.
Thy father bears the type121 of King of Naples,
Of both the Sicils122 and Jerusalem,
Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.123
Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?124
125 It needs not, nor it boots125 thee not, proud queen,
Unless the adage126 must be verified,
That beggars mounted127 run their horse to death.
’Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud,
But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small.
130 ’Tis virtue that doth make them most admired,
The contrary doth make thee wondered131 at.
’Tis government132 that makes them seem divine,
The want133 thereof makes thee abominable.
Thou art as opposite to every good
135 As the Antipodes135 are unto us,
Or as the south to the Septentrion.136
O, tiger’s heart wrapt in a woman’s hide!
How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child,
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,139
140 And yet be seen to bear a woman’s face?
Women are soft, mild, pitiful141 and flexible;
Thou stern, obdurate,142 flinty, rough, remorseless.
Bid’st thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish.
Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will.
145 For raging wind blows up incessant showers,
And when the rage allays, the rain begins.
These tears are my sweet Rutland’s obsequies,147
And every drop cries vengeance for his death,
Gainst thee, fell149 Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.
That hardly can I check151 my eyes from tears.
Would not have touched, would not have stained with blood.
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,
155 O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania.155
See, ruthless queen, a hapless156 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,
160 And if thou tell’st the heavy160 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 piteous163 deed!’
There, take the crown, and with the crown, my curse.
165 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.
170 I should not for my life but weep with him,
To see how inly171 sorrow gripes his soul.
Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.
My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. Dies
180 So York may overlook the town of York.
Flourish. Exeunt [with the body]
A march. Enter Edward, Richard and their power
Or whether he be scaped away or no
From Clifford’s and Northumberland’s pursuit?
Had he been ta’en,4 we should have heard the news:
5 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?
10 Where10 our right valiant father is become.
I saw him in the battle range11 about
And watched him how he singled Clifford forth.12
Methought he bore him13 in the thickest troop
As doth a lion in a herd of neat,14
15 Or as a bear encompassed round with dogs,
Who having pinched16 a few and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof,17 and bark at him.
So fared our father with his enemies,
So fled his enemies my warlike father.
20 Methinks, ’tis prize20 enough to be his son. Three suns appear
See how the morning opes21 her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun.
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trimmed24 like a younker prancing to his love.
Not separated with the racking27 clouds,
But severed28 in a pale clear-shining sky.
See, see: they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
30 As if they vowed some league inviolable.
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
In this the heaven figures32 some event.
I think it cites34 us, brother, to the field,
35 That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
Each one already blazing by our meeds,36
Should notwithstanding join our lights together
And overshine38 the earth, as this the world.
Whate’er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
40 Upon my target40 three fair-shining suns.
You love the breeder42 better than the male.
Enter one [a Messenger] blowing
But what art thou, whose heavy43 looks foretell
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
Whenas46 the noble Duke of York was slain,
Your princely father and my loving lord!
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy51
Against the Greeks that would have entered Troy.
But Hercules53 himself must yield to odds,
And many strokes, though with a little axe,
55 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,59
60 Laughed in his face, and when with grief he wept,
The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks
A napkin steepèd in the harmless62 blood
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough63 Clifford slain.
And after many scorns, many foul taunts,
65 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.
[Exit]
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.69
70 O Clifford, boist’rous70 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 palace74 is become a prison.
75 Ah, would she75 break from hence, that this my body
Might in the ground be closèd up in rest,
For never henceforth shall I joy again:
Never, O, never, shall I see more joy!78
80 Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart.
Nor can my tongue unload my heart’s great burden,
For selfsame wind82 that I should speak withal
Is kindling coals that fires all my breast,
And burns me up with flames that tears would quench.
85 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 venge87 thy death,
Or die renownèd by attempting it.
90 His dukedom and his chair90 with me is left.
Show thy descent by gazing gainst the sun.
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say,
Either that94 is thine, or else thou wert not his.
March. Enter Warwick, Marquis [of] Montague and their army
Our baleful97 news, and at each word’s deliverance
Stab poniards98 in our flesh till all were told,
The words would add more anguish than the wounds.
100 O, valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain!
Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption,
Is by the stern103 Lord Clifford done to death.
105 And now, to add more measure105 to your woes,
I come to tell you things sith106 then befall’n.
After the bloody fray at Wakefield107 fought,
Where your brave father breathed his latest108 gasp,
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts109 could run,
110 Were brought me of your loss and his depart.110
I, then in London, keeper111 of the king,
Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends,
Marched toward St Albans113 to intercept the queen,
Bearing the king in my behalf114 along.
115 For by my scouts I was advertisèd115
That she was coming with a full intent
To dash117 our late decree in parliament
Touching118 King Henry’s oath and your succession.
Short tale to make, we at St Albans met
120 Our battles120 joined, and both sides fiercely fought.
But whether ’twas the coldness121 of the king,
Who looked full122 gently on his warlike queen,
That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen,123
Or whether ’twas report of her success,
125 Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigour,125
Who thunders to his captives blood and death,
I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to128 lightning came and went,
Our soldiers’ like the night-owl’s lazy flight,
130 Or like an idle thresher with a flail,130
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,
135 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 marches139 here we heard you were,
140 Making another head140 to fight again.
And when came George from Burgundy to England?
And for your brother, he was lately sent
145 From your kind aunt,145 Duchess of Burgundy,
With aid of soldiers to this needful146 war.
Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,148
But ne’er till now his scandal of retire.149
For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine
Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head,
And wring153 the awful sceptre from his fist,
Were he as famous and as bold in war
155 As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
’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,
160 And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
Numb’ring161 our Ave Maries with our beads?
Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
Tell163 our devotion with revengeful arms?
If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords.
And therefore comes my brother Montague.
Attend167 me, lords: the proud insulting queen,
With Clifford and the haught168 Northumberland,
And of their feather many more proud birds,
170 Have wrought170 the easy-melting king like wax.
He swore consent to your succession,
His oath enrollèd172 in the parliament.
And now to London all the crew173 are gone,
To frustrate174 both his oath and what beside
175 May make175 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,
180 Will but amount to five-and-twenty thousand,
Why, via,181 to London will we march,
And once again bestride182 our foaming steeds,
And once again cry ‘Charge!’ upon our foes,
But never once again turn back and fly.
Ne’er may he live to see a sunshine day,
That cries ‘Retire!’187 if Warwick bid him stay.
And when thou fail’st — as God forbid the hour —
190 Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend!190
The next degree192 is England’s royal throne.
For King of England shalt thou be proclaimed
In every borough as we pass along.
195 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.
As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,
I come to pierce it or to give thee mine.
Enter a Messenger
The queen is coming with a puissant host,206
And craves207 your company for speedy counsel.
Exeunt
Flourish. Enter the King, the Queen, Clifford, Northumberland] and young Prince, with Drum and Trumpets York’s head is set above the city gates
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?
To see this sight, it irks6 my very soul.
Withhold revenge, dear God! ’tis not my fault,
Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
10 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 spoils14 her young before her face.
15 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 doth level19 at thy crown,
20 Thou smiling while he knit20 his angry brows:
He, but a duke, would have his son a king,
And raise22 his issue, like a loving sire;
Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly23 son,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
25 Which argued thee25 a most unloving father.
Unreasonable26 creatures feed their young;
And though man’s face be fearful27 to their eyes,
Yet, in protection of their tender28 ones,
Who hath not seen them, even with those wings
30 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!33
Were it not pity34 that this goodly boy
35 Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault,
And long hereafter say unto his child,
‘What my great-grandfather and his grandsire got
My careless father fondly38 gave away’?
Ah, what a shame39 were this! Look on the boy;
40 And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting41 heart
To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.
Inferring44 arguments of mighty force:
45 But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear
That things ill-got46 had ever bad success?
And happy47 always was it for that son
Whose father for his hoarding48 went to hell?
I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind,
50 And would my father had left me no more:
For all the rest is held at such a rate51
As brings a thousand-fold more care52 to keep
Than in possession any jot of pleasure.
Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know
55 How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!
And this soft courage makes your followers faint.57
You promised knighthood to our forward58 son:
Unsheathe your sword, and dub59 him presently.
60 Edward, kneel down.
And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right.62
I’ll draw it as apparent64 to the crown,
65 And in that quarrel use it to the death.
Enter a Messenger
For with a band of thirty thousand men
Comes Warwick, backing of69 the Duke of York;
70 And in the towns, as they do march along,
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him.
Deraign72 your battle, for they are at hand.
[Exit]
The queen hath best success when you are absent.
And hearten those that fight in your defence.
80 Unsheathe your sword, good father, cry ‘Saint George!’
March. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Clarence [George], Norfolk, Montague and Soldiers
And set thy diadem upon my head,
Or bide83 the mortal fortune of the field?
85 Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
I was adopted heir by his consent.
Since when, his oath is broke, for as I hear,
90 You that are king, though he do wear the crown,
Have caused him, by new act of parliament,
To blot out me and put his own son in.
Who should succeed the father but the son?
Or any he,97 the proudest of thy sort.
When you and I met at St Albans last,
Your legs104 did better service than your hands.
110 Break off the parley,110 for scarce I can refrain
The execution111 of my big-swol’n heart
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.
115 As thou didst kill our tender115 brother Rutland.
But ere sunset, I’ll make thee curse the deed.
120 I am a king and privileged to speak.
Cannot be cured by words: therefore be still.122
By him124 that made us all, I am resolved
125 That Clifford’s manhood lies125 upon his tongue.
A thousand men have broke their fasts127 today,
That ne’er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.
130 For York in justice puts his armour on.
There is no wrong, but everything is right.
For well I wot,134 thou hast thy mother’s tongue.
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic,136
Marked137 by the destinies to be avoided,
As venom138 toads or lizards’ dreadful stings.
140 Whose father bears the title of a king
As if a channel141 should be called the sea
Sham’st thou not,142 knowing whence thou art extraught,
To let thy tongue detect143 thy base-born heart?
145 To make this shameless callet145 know herself.
Helen146 of Greece was fairer far than thou,
Although thy husband may be Menelaus;
And ne’er was Agamemnon’s brother148 wronged
By that false woman, as this king by thee.
150 His father150 revelled in the heart of France,
And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop.
And had he152 matched according to his state,
He might have kept that glory to this day.
But when he took a beggar to his bed,
155 And graced155 thy poor sire with his bridal-day,
Even then that sunshine brewed a shower for him,
That washed his father’s fortunes forth157 of France,
And heaped sedition158 on his crown at home.
For what hath broached159 this tumult but thy pride?
160 Hadst thou been meek, our title160 still had slept,
And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipped162 our claim until another age.
And that thy summer bred us no increase,164
165 We set the axe to thy usurping root.
And though the edge hath something166 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.
Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou denied’st172 the gentle king to speak.
Sound trumpets, let our bloody colours wave,
And either victory or else a grave!
These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
Exeunt
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwick
I lay me down a little while to breathe,2
For strokes received, and many blows repaid
Have robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength,
5 And spite of spite5 needs must I rest awhile.
Enter Edward running
For this world frowns, and Edward’s sun is clouded.
Enter Clarence [George]
10 Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us.
What counsel give you? Whither shall we fly?
And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.
Enter Richard
15 Thy brother’s15 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 to18 a dismal clangour heard from far,
‘Warwick, revenge! Brother, revenge my death!’
20 So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stained their fetlocks21 in his smoking blood,
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.
I’ll kill my horse, because I will not fly.
25 Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage,
And look upon,27 as if the tragedy
Were played in jest28 by counterfeiting actors?
Here on my knee, I vow to God above, Kneels
30 I’ll never pause again, never stand still,
Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine
Or fortune given me measure32 of revenge.
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine.
35 And, ere my knee rise from the earth’s cold face,
I throw36 my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
Thou setter-up and plucker-down of kings,
Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands38
That to my foes this body must be prey,
40 Yet that thy brazen40 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.
45 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.
50 And give them leave to fly that will not stay,
And call them pillars that will stand to51 us.
And, if we thrive,52 promise them such rewards
As victors wear at the Olympian games.53
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,
55 For yet is hope of life and victory.
Forslow56 no longer, make we hence amain.
Exeunt
Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York,
And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge,
Wert thou4 environed with a brazen wall.
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
10 To execute the like upon thyself.
And so, have at thee!11
They fight
Warwick comes [and rescues Richard], Clifford flies
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.
Exeunt
Alarum. Enter King Henry alone
When dying clouds contend with growing light,
What3 time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
Can neither call it perfect4 day nor night.
5 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 flood9 prevails, and then the wind,
10 Now one the better, then another best;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror nor conquerèd:
So is the equal poise13 of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
15 To whom God will, there be the victory.
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid17 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;
20 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,22
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials24 quaintly, point by point,
25 Thereby to see the minutes how they run:
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about27 the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.
30 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 sport34 myself,
35 So many days my ewes have been with young,35
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean,36
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, months and years,
Passed over to the end they39 were created,
40 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 silly43 sheep,
Than doth a rich embroidered canopy44
45 To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery?
O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd’s homely curds,47
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted49 sleep under a fresh tree’s shade,
50 All which secure50 and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince’s delicates,51
His viands52 sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couchèd in a curious53 bed,
When care,54 mistrust and treason waits on him.
Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father, at one door, and a Father that hath killed his son at another door [with their bodies]
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
May be possessèd with57 some store of crowns,
And I, that haply58 take them from him now,
May yet ere night yield both my life and them
60 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 unwares62 have killed.
O heavy63 times, begetting such events!
From London by the king was I pressed64 forth.
65 My father, being the Earl of Warwick’s man,65
Came on the part66 of York, pressed by his master.
And I, who at his hands received my life,
Have by my hands of life bereavèd him.
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did.
70 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.
Whiles lions war and battle for their dens,
75 Poor harmless lambs abide75 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’ercharged78 with grief.
[The] Father [steps forward], bearing of his Son
80 Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold,
For I have bought it with an 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,
85 Throw up85 thine eye! 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,89 how fell, how butcherly,
90 Erroneous,90 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!93
95 O, that my death would stay95 these ruthful deeds!
O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
The red rose and the white are on his face,97
The fatal colours of our striving houses:
The one his purple99 blood right well resembles,
100 The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth.100
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish.
If you contend,102 a thousand lives must wither.
Take on with104 me and ne’er be satisfied!
Shed seas of tears and ne’er be satisfied!
Misthink108 the king and not be satisfied!
Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much.
[Exit with the body]
115 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 obsequious118 will thy father be,
E’en for the loss of thee, having no more,
120 As Priam120 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.
Exit [with the body]
Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the Prince and Exeter
And Warwick rages like a chafèd126 bull:
Away, for death doth hold us in pursuit.
Edward and Richard, like a brace129 of greyhounds
130 Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very131 wrath,
And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain.133
135 Nay, stay not to expostulate,135 make speed,
Or else come after. I’ll away before.
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
Whither the queen intends. Forward, away!
Exeunt
A loud alarum. Enter Clifford wounded
Which whiles it lasted gave King Henry light.
O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow
More than my body’s parting with my soul!
5 My4 love and fear glued many friends to thee,
And now I fall. Thy tough commixtures6 melts,
Impairing Henry, strength’ning misproud7 York,
The common people swarm like summer flies,
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?9
10 And who shines now but Henry’s enemies?
O Phoebus,11 hadst thou never given consent
That Phaethon12 should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorched the earth!
And, Henry, hadst thou swayed14 as kings should do,
15 Or as thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground16 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,
20 And thou this day hadst kept thy chair20 in peace.
For what doth cherish21 weeds but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity?
Bootless are plaints,23 and cureless are my wounds.
No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight.
25 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 effuse28 of blood doth make me faint.
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest:
30 I stabbed your fathers’ bosoms; split my breast. Faints
Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard and Soldiers, Montague and Clarence
[George]
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,
35 As doth a sail, filled with a fretting35 gust,
Command36 an argosy to stem the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
For, though before his39 face I speak the words,
40 Your brother Richard marked40 him for the grave,
And wheresoe’er he is, he’s surely dead.
Clifford groans [and dies]
A deadly groan, like life and death’s departing.43
45 If friend or foe, let him be gently used.45
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
50 From whence that tender spray50 did sweetly spring,
I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
Your father’s head, which Clifford placèd there,
Instead whereof let this54 supply the room:
55 Measure55 for measure must be answered.
That nothing sung57 but death to us and ours:
Now death shall stop his dismal58 threat’ning sound,
And his ill-boding59 tongue no more shall speak.
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?
Dark cloudy death o’ershades his beams62 of life,
And he nor63 sees nor hears us what we say.
65 ’Tis but his policy65 to counterfeit,
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
Which in the time of death he gave our father.
When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath.
I know by that he’s dead, and, by my soul,
80 If this right hand would buy two hours’ life,
That I in all despite81 might rail at him,
This82 hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood
Stifle83 the villain whose unstanchèd thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
And rear86 it in the place your father’s stands.
And now to London with triumphant march,
There to be crownèd England’s royal king:
From whence shall Warwick cut89 the sea to France,
90 And ask90 the lady Bona for thy queen.
So shalt thou sinew91 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,
95 Yet look to have them buzz95 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.
100 For in thy shoulder100 do I build my seat,
And never will I undertake the thing
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.102
Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,
And George, of Clarence; Warwick, as ourself,
105 Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.
For Gloucester’s dukedom is too ominous.107
Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London,
110 To see these honours in possession.
Exeunt
Enter two Keepers with crossbows in their hands
For through this laund2 anon the deer will come,
And in this covert3 will we make our stand,
Culling the principal4 of all the deer.
Will scare the herd, and so my shoot7 is lost.
Here stand we both, and aim we at the best,
And, for9 the time shall not seem tedious,
10 I’ll tell thee what befell me on a day
In this self-place11 where now we mean to stand.
Enter the King, [disguised,] with a prayer-book
To greet mine own land with my wishful14 sight.
15 No, Harry, Harry, ’tis no land of thine:
Thy place is filled, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
Thy balm17 washed off wherewith thou wast anointed.
No bending knee will call thee Caesar18 now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right,19
20 No, not a man comes for redress of20 thee.
For how can I help them, and not myself?
This is the quondam23 king; let’s seize upon him.
25 For wise men say it is the wisest course.
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
30 Is thither gone, to crave30 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 subtle33 orator,
And Lewis34 a prince soon won with moving words.
35 By this account then Margaret may win him,
For she’s a woman to be pitied much:
Her sighs will make a batt’ry37 in his breast,
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart,
The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn;
40 And Nero40 will be tainted with remorse,
To hear and see her plaints,41 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.
45 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,48 smooths the wrong,
Inferreth49 arguments of mighty strength,
50 And in conclusion wins the king from her,
With promise of his sister, and what51 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.54
A man at least, for less I should not be.
And men may talk of kings, and why not I?
Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,63
Nor to be seen: my crown is called content.
65 A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.
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,
70 And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance
Will apprehend71 you as his enemy.
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?
For we were subjects but81 while you were king.
Ah, simple83 men, you know not what you swear.
Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
85 And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with86 my wind when I do blow,
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust,
Such is the lightness89 of you, common men.
90 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.
If he were seated as King Edward is.
To go with us unto the officers.
100 And what God will, that let your king perform,
And what he will, I humbly yield unto.
Exeunt
Enter King Edward, [Richard, now Duke of] Gloucester, [George, now Duke of] Clarence, Lady Grey Richard is henceforth known as Gloucester, George as Clarence
This lady’s husband, Sir Richard2 Grey, was slain,
His land then seized on by the conqueror.
Her suit4 is now to repossess those lands,
5 Which we in justice cannot well deny,
Because in quarrel of6 the House of York
The worthy gentleman did lose his life.
It were dishonour to deny it her.
I see the lady hath a thing12 to grant,
Before the king will grant her humble suit.
And come some other time to know our mind.
May it please your highness to resolve19 me now,
20 And what your pleasure20 is, shall satisfy me.
An if22 what pleases him shall pleasure you.
Fight closer,23 or good faith, you’ll catch a blow.
35 Till youth take leave and leave you to the35 crutch.
What love, think’st thou, I sue so much to get?
That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.
Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.
For by that loss I will not purchase them.
But, mighty lord, this merry inclination76
Accords not with the sadness77 of my suit.
Please you dismiss me either with ‘Ay’ or ‘No’.
80 No if thou dost say ‘No’ to my demand.
85 Her words doth show her wit incomparable,
All her perfections challenge86 sovereignty.
One way or other, she is for a king,
And she shall be my love,88 or else my queen.—
Say that King Edward take thee for his queen? To her
I am a subject fit to jest withal,
But far unfit to be a sovereign.
I speak no more than what my soul intends,
95 And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.
I know I am too mean97 to be your queen
And yet too good to be your concubine.
Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children,
And, by God’s mother, I, being but a bachelor,
Have other some.104 Why, ’tis a happy thing
105 To be the father unto many sons.
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.
Her suit is granted for her husband’s lands.
Enter a Nobleman
120 And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.
And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To question123 of his apprehension.—
Widow, go you along.— Lords, use124 her honourably.
Exeunt. Richard [of Gloucester] remains
Would he were wasted,126 marrow, bones and all,
That from his loins no hopeful branch127 may spring,
To cross128 me from the golden time I look for.
And yet, between my soul’s desire and me —
130 The130 lustful Edward’s title buried —
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,
And all the unlooked for132 issue of their bodies,
To take their rooms,133 ere I can place myself.
A cold premeditation134 for my purpose.
135 Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty,
Like one that stands upon a promontory,136
And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
Wishing his foot were equal with138 his eye,
And chides139 the sea that sunders him from thence,
140 Saying, he’ll lade140 it dry to have his way:
So do I wish141 the crown, being so far off,
And so I chide the means142 that keeps me from it,
And so I say, I’ll cut143 the causes off,
Flattering me144 with impossibilities.
145 My eye’s too quick, my heart o’erweens145 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,
150 And deck150 my body in gay ornaments,
And witch151 sweet ladies with my words and looks.
O, miserable thought, and more unlikely
Than to accomplish153 twenty golden crowns.
Why, love forswore154 me in my mother’s womb,
155 And, for155 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 envious158 mountain on my back,
Where sits deformity to mock my body;
160 To shape my legs of an unequal size,
To disproportion me in every part,
Like to a chaos162 or an unlicked bear-whelp,
That carries no impression163 like the dam.
And am I then a man to be beloved?
165 O, monstrous165 fault, to harbour such a thought.
Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
But to command, to check,167 to o’erbear such
As are of better person168 than myself,
I’ll make my heaven to dream upon the crown,
170 And whiles I live, t’account170 this world but hell,
Until my misshaped trunk171 that bears this head
Be round impalèd172 with a glorious crown.
And yet I know not how to get the crown,
For many lives stand between me and home,174
175 And I — like one lost in a thorny wood,
That rents176 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 —
180 Torment myself to catch180 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,
185 And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
And frame186 my face to all occasions.
I’ll drown more sailors than the mermaid187 shall,
I’ll slay more gazers than the basilisk,188
I’ll play the orator as well as Nestor,189
190 Deceive more slyly than Ulysses190 could,
And, like a Sinon,191 take another Troy.
I can add colours to the chameleon,
Change shapes with Proteus193 for advantages,
And set194 the murderous Machevil to school.
195 Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
Tut, were it further off, I’ll pluck it down.
Exit
Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his sister Bona, his Admiral called Bourbon, Prince Edward, Queen Margaret and the Earl of Oxford. Lewis sits and riseth up again
Sit down with us. It ill befits thy state2
And birth, that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit.
5 Must strike her sail5 and learn awhile to serve
Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
Great Albion’s7 queen in former golden days,
But now mischance8 hath trod my title down
And with dishonour laid me on the ground,
10 Where I must take like seat unto10 my fortune,
And to my humble seat conform myself.
And stops my tongue, while heart is drowned in cares.
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:
20 It shall be eased, if France20 can yield relief.
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
Now therefore be it known to noble Lewis,
That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
25 Is, of25 a king, become a banished man,
And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn;26
While proud ambitious Edward, Duke of York,
Usurps the regal title and the seat
Of England’s true-anointed lawful king.
30 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.
And if thou fail us, all our hope is done.
Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help,
35 Our people and our peers are both misled,
Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight,
And, as thou see’st, ourselves in heavy37 plight.
While we bethink a means to break it off.
And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow!
Enter Warwick
He descends. She ariseth
For this is he that moves both wind and tide.
50 My lord and sovereign, and thy vowèd friend,
I come, in kindness and unfeignèd love,
First, to do greetings to thy royal person,
And then to crave a league of amity,
And lastly, to confirm that amity
55 With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe55 to grant
That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister,
To England’s king in lawful marriage.
Speaking to Bona
60 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,63 late ent’ring at his heedful ears,
Hath placed thy beauty’s image and thy virtue.
Before you answer Warwick. His demand
Springs not from Edward’s well-meant honest love,
But from deceit bred by necessity.
For how can tyrants69 safely govern home,
70 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,74 therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage
75 Thou draw75 not on thy danger and dishonour,
For though usurpers sway the rule76 awhile,
Yet heav’ns are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.
And thou no more art prince than she is queen.
Which83 did subdue the greatest part of Spain;
And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
85 Whose wisdom was a mirror85 to the wisest,
And after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth,
Who by his prowess conquerèd all France:
From these our Henry lineally descends.
90 You told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost
All that which Henry Fifth had gotten?
Methinks these peers of France should smile at that.
But for the rest, you tell93 a pedigree
Of threescore94 and two years, a silly time
95 To make prescription95 for a kingdom’s worth.
Whom thou obeyed’st thirty-and-six years,97
And not bewray98 thy treason with a blush?
100 Now buckler100 falsehood with a pedigree?
For shame, leave Henry and call Edward king.
My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Vere,103
Was done to death? And more than so,104 my father,
105 Even in the downfall105 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.
Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside,
While I use112 further conference with Warwick.
They stand aloof
115 Is Edward your true king? For I were loath
To link with him that were not lawful chosen.
Tell me for truth121 the measure of his love
Unto our sister Bona.
As may beseem124 a monarch like himself.
125 Myself have often heard him say and swear
That this his love was an external126 plant,
Whereof the root was fixed in virtue’s ground,
The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty’s sun,
Exempt from envy,129 but not from disdain,
130 Unless the lady Bona quit130 his pain.
Yet I confess that often ere this day,
Speaks to Warwick
When I have heard your king’s desert134 recounted,
135 Mine ear hath tempted judgement to desire.
And now forthwith shall articles137 be drawn
Touching138 the jointure that your king must make,
Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised.139—
140 Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness
That Bona shall be wife to the English king.
By this alliance to make void my suit.
145 Before thy coming Lewis was Henry’s friend.
But if your title to the crown be weak,
As may appear by Edward’s good success,148
Then ’tis but reason that I be released
150 From giving aid which late150 I promisèd.
Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand
That your estate152 requires and mine can yield.
Where having nothing, nothing can he lose.
155 And as for you yourself, our quondam155 queen,
You have a father able to maintain you,
And better ’twere you troubled him than France.
Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings.
160 I will not hence,160 till with my talk and tears —
Both full of truth — I make King Lewis behold
Thy sly conveyance162 and thy lord’s false love,
Post blowing a horn within
For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.
Enter the Post
Speaks to Warwick
Sent from your brother, Marquis Montague.—
These from our king unto your majesty.—
To Lewis
And, madam, these for you, from whom I know not.
To Margaret
They all read their letters
170 Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
I hope all’s for the best.
And now, to soothe177 your forgery and his,
Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
Is this th’alliance that he seeks with France?
180 Dare he presume to scorn180 us in this manner?
This proveth Edward’s love and Warwick’s honesty.
And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,
185 That I am clear from185 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 untimely189 to his death?
190 Did I let pass th’abuse190 done to my niece?
Did I impale him191 with the regal crown?
Did I put192 Henry from his native right?
And am I guerdoned193 at the last with shame?
Shame on himself, for my desert194 is honour.
195 And to repair my honour lost for him,
I here renounce him and return to Henry.—
My noble queen, let former grudges pass,
And henceforth I am thy true servitor.198
I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
200 And replant Henry in his former state.
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
And joy203 that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.
205 That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish205 us
With some few bands206 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.
210 And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me,
He’s very likely now to fall from211 him
For matching212 more for wanton lust than honour,
Or than for strength and safety of our country.
215 But by thy help to this distressèd queen?
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
Therefore at last I firmly am resolved
You shall have aid.
225 And tell false Edward, thy supposèd king,
That Lewis of France is sending over masquers226
To revel it with him and his new bride.
Thou see’st what’s passed,228 go fear thy king withal.
230 I’ll wear the willow garland230 for his sake.
And I am ready to put armour on.
And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere’t be234 long.
235 There’s thy reward.235 Be gone. Gives money
Exit Post
Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men
Shall cross the seas, and bid238 false Edward battle.
And, as occasion239 serves, this noble queen
240 And prince shall follow with a fresh supply.240
Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt:
What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty?
That if our queen and this young prince agree,
245 I’ll join mine eldest daughter245 and my joy
To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.246
Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous:
Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick,
250 And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
That only Warwick’s daughter shall be thine.
And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.
He gives his hand to Warwick
255 And thou, Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral,
Shall waft256 them over with our royal fleet.
I long till Edward fall by war’s mischance,
For mocking marriage with a dame of France.
Exeunt. Warwick remains
260 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 stale263 but me?
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.
265 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
Enter Richard [of Gloucester], Clarence, Somerset and Montague
Of this new marriage with the lady Grey?
Hath not our brother made a worthy choice?
5 How could he stay5 till Warwick made return?
Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Grey [now Queen Elizabeth], Pembroke, Stafford,
Hastings: four stand on one side and four on the other
10 That you stand pensive, as half malcontent?10
Which12 are so weak of courage and in judgement
That they’ll take no offence at our abuse.13
15 They are but Lewis and Warwick. I am Edward,
Your king and Warwick’s, and must have my will.16
Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.
God forbid that I should wish them severed
Whom God hath joined together. Ay, and ’twere pity
To sunder them that yoke23 so well together.
25 Tell me some reason why the lady Grey
Should not become my wife and England’s queen.—
And you too, Somerset and Montague,
Speak freely what you think.
30 Becomes your enemy, for mocking him
About the marriage of the lady Bona.
Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.
35 By such invention35 as I can devise?
Would more have strengthened this our commonwealth
Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage.
40 England is safe, if true40 within itself?
Let us be backed with God and with the seas
Which he hath given for fence44 impregnable,
45 And with their helps only45 defend ourselves.
In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.
To have48 the heir of the lord Hungerford.
50 And for this once my will shall stand for law.
To give the heir52 and daughter of Lord Scales
Unto the brother of your loving bride;
She better would have fitted me or Clarence,
55 But in your bride you bury55 brotherhood.
Of the lord Bonville on your new wife’s son,57
And leave your brothers to go speed58 elsewhere.
60 That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.
Which being shallow, you shall give me leave
To play the broker63 in mine own behalf.
And to that end, I shortly mind64 to leave you.
And not be tied unto his brother’s will.
To raise my state to title of a queen,
Do me but right, and you must all confess
70 That I was not ignoble of descent,
And meaner71 than myself have had like fortune.
But as this title honours me and mine,
So your dislikes,73 to whom I would be pleasing,
Doth cloud my joys with danger74 and with sorrow.
What danger or what sorrow can befall thee,
So long as Edward is thy constant friend,77
And their true sovereign, whom they must obey?
Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too,
80 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.
But such as I, without your special pardon,
Dare not relate.
Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess89 them.
90 What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters?
‘Go tell false Edward, thy supposèd king,
That Lewis of France is sending over masquers
To revel it with him and his new bride.’
But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?
‘Tell him, in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly,
I’ll wear the willow garland for his sake.’
She had the wrong.— But what said Henry’s queen?
For I have heard that she was there in place.102
And I am ready to put armour on.’
But what said Warwick to these injuries?106
Than all the rest, discharged108 me with these words:
‘Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong,
110 And therefore I’ll uncrown him ere’t be long.’
Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarned.
They shall have wars and pay for their presumption.—
But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?
That young Prince Edward marries Warwick’s daughter.
Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast,118
For I will hence to Warwick’s other daughter,
120 That, though I want120 a kingdom, yet in marriage
I may not prove inferior to yourself.
You that love me and Warwick, follow me.
Exit Clarence, and Somerset follows
My thoughts aim at a further matter:
125 I stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.
Yet am I armed against the worst can happen,
And haste is needful128 in this desp’rate case.—
Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf
130 Go levy men, and make prepare130 for war;
They are already, or quickly will be landed.
Myself in person will straight132 follow you.
Exeunt Pembroke and Stafford
But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague,
Resolve my doubt. You twain,134 of all the rest,
135 Are near 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 hollow138 friends.
But if you mind to hold your true obedience,
140 Give me assurance with some friendly vow,
That I may never have you in suspect.141
Now therefore let us hence, and lose no hour
Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.148
Exeunt
Enter Warwick and Oxford in England, with French Soldiers
The common people by numbers swarm to us.
Enter Clarence and Somerset
But see where Somerset and Clarence comes.
Speak suddenly,4 my lords, are we all friends?
And welcome, Somerset. I hold it cowardice
To rest8 mistrustful where a noble heart
Hath pawned9 an open hand in sign of love;
10 Else might I think that Clarence, Edward’s brother,
Were but a feignèd friend to our proceedings.11
But welcome, sweet Clarence, my daughter shall be thine.
And now what rests but, in night’s coverture,13
Thy brother being carelessly14 encamped,
15 His soldiers lurking15 in the towns about,
And but16 attended by a simple guard,
We may surprise17 and take him at our pleasure?
Our scouts have found the18 adventure very easy,
That as Ulysses19 and stout Diomede
20 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 unawares23 may beat down Edward’s guard
And seize himself. I say not, slaughter him,
25 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,28
For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George!
Exeunt
Enter three Watchmen to guard the King’s tent
The king by this2 is set him down to sleep.
5 Never to lie and take his natural rest
Till Warwick or himself be quite suppressed.
If Warwick be so near as men report.
10 That with the king here resteth in his tent?
That his chief followers lodge in towns about13 him,
While he himself keeps14 in the cold field?
I like it better than a dangerous honour.
If Warwick knew in what estate18 he stands,
’Tis to be doubted19 he would waken him.
But to defend his person from night-foes?
Enter Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset and French Soldiers, silent all
Courage, my masters: honour now or never:
25 But25 follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
Warwick and the rest cry all, ‘Warwick! Warwick!’ and set upon the guard, who fly, crying, ‘Arm! Arm!’ Warwick and the rest following them. The Drum playing and Trumpet sounding, enter Warwick, Somerset and the rest bringing the King [Edward] out in his gown, sitting in a chair. Richard and Hastings fly over the stage
30 The duke.
Thou called’st me king.
When you disgraced me in my embassade,34
35 Then I degraded35 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,
40 Nor how to use your brothers brotherly,
Nor how to study for the people’s welfare,
Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?
Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down.44—
45 Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance,
Of thee thyself and all thy complices,46
Edward will always bear himself as king.
Though fortune’s malice overthrow my state,48
My mind exceeds the compass49 of her wheel.
Takes off his 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
55 Unto my brother, Archbishop of York.
When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows,
I’ll follow you, and tell what answer
Lewis and the lady Bona send to him.—
Now, for awhile farewell, good Duke of York.
They lead him out forcibly
It boots not61 to resist both wind and tide.
Exeunt [all but Oxford and Warwick]
But march to London with our soldiers?
65 To free King Henry from imprisonment
And see him seated in the regal throne.
Exeunt
Enter Rivers and Lady Grey [Queen Elizabeth]
What late misfortune is befall’n King Edward?
Either betrayed by falsehood8 of his guard
Or by his foe surprised at9 unawares.
10 And as I further have to understand,
Is new committed to11 the Bishop of York,
Fell12 Warwick’s brother and by that our foe.
Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may,
15 Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day.
And I the rather wean me from despair
For love of Edward’s offspring in my womb.
This is it that makes me bridle19 passion
20 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,22
Lest with my sighs or tears I blast23 or drown
King Edward’s fruit, true heir to th’English crown.
To set the crown once more on Henry’s head.
Guess thou the rest: King Edward’s friends must down.28
But, to prevent the tyrant’s29 violence —
30 For trust not him that hath once broken faith —
I’ll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary,31
To save at least the heir of Edward’s right.32
There shall I rest secure33 from force and fraud.
Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly.
35 If Warwick take us we are sure to die.
Exeunt
Enter Richard, Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley [with Soldiers]
Leave2 off to wonder why I drew you hither,
Into this chiefest3 thicket of the park.
Thus stands the case:4 you know our king, my brother,
5 Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands
He hath good usage6 and great liberty,
And, often but7 attended with weak guard,
Comes hunting this way to disport8 himself.
I have advertised9 him by secret means
10 That if about this hour he make this way
Under the colour11 of his usual game,
He shall here find his friends with horse and men
To set him free from his captivity.
Enter King Edward and a Huntsman with him
Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings and the rest,
Stand you thus close,17 to steal the bishop’s deer?
Your horse stands ready at the park-corner.
And shipped from thence to Flanders.
30 And pray that I may repossess the crown.
Exeunt
Flourish. Enter King Henry the Sixth, Clarence, Warwick, Somerset, young Henry of Richmond], Oxford, Montague and Lieutenant
Have shaken Edward from the regal seat,
And turned my captive state to liberty,
My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys,
5 At our enlargement5 what are thy due fees?
But if an humble prayer may prevail,
I then crave pardon of your majesty.
10 Nay, be thou sure I’ll well requite thy kindness,
For that11 it made my imprisonment a pleasure.
Ay, such a pleasure as encagèd birds
Conceive,13 when after many moody thoughts,
At last, by notes14 of household harmony,
15 They quite forget their loss of liberty.
But, Warwick, after God, thou set’st me free,
And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee.
He was the author,18 thou the instrument.
Therefore, that I may conquer fortune’s spite
20 By living low,20 where fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this blessèd land
May not be punished with my thwarting stars,22
Warwick, although my head still wear the crown,
I here resign my government to thee,
25 For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
And now may seem as wise as virtuous,
By spying28 and avoiding fortune’s malice,
For few men rightly temper29 with the stars:
30 Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace,
For choosing me when Clarence is in place.31
To whom the heav’ns in thy nativity
Adjudged34 an olive branch and laurel crown,
35 As likely to be blest in peace and war.
And therefore I yield36 thee my free consent.
Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts,
40 That no dissension40 hinder government.
I make you both protectors of this land,
While I myself will lead a private life
And in devotion43 spend my latter days,
To sin’s rebuke and my creator’s praise.
For on thy fortune I repose myself.47
We’ll yoke49 together, like a double shadow
50 To Henry’s body, and supply50 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,
55 And all his lands and goods be confiscate.
Let me entreat, for I command no more,
60 That Margaret your queen and my son Edward
Be sent for, to return from France with speed.
For till I see them here, by doubtful62 fear
My joy of liberty is half eclipsed.
Of whom you seem to have so tender care?
Lays his hand on his head
If secret powers
Suggest but truth to my divining69 thoughts,
70 This pretty70 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.
75 Make much of him, my lords, for this is he
Must help you more than you are hurt by me.
Enter a Post
And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.
And the Lord Hastings, who attended82 him
In secret ambush on the forest side
And from the bishop’s huntsmen rescued him,
85 For hunting was his daily exercise.
But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide
A salve88 for any sore that may betide.
Exeunt. Somerset, Richmond and Oxford remain
90 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
95 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.
100 ’Tis like that Richmond with the rest, shall down.
Come, therefore, let’s about it speedily.
Exeunt
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings and Soldiers
Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends,
And says that once more I shall interchange3
My wanèd4 state for Henry’s regal crown.
5 Well have we passed and now repassed the seas
And brought desirèd help from Burgundy.
What then remains, we being thus arrived
From Ravenspurgh8 haven before the gates of York,
But that we enter, as into our dukedom? Hastings knocks
For many men that stumble at the threshold
Are well foretold12 that danger lurks within.
By fair or foul means we must enter in,
15 For hither will our friends repair15 to us.
Enter [above], on the walls, the Mayor of York and his brethren
And shut the gates for safety of ourselves;
For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.
Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of York.
As being well content with that alone.
He’ll soon find means to make the body follow.
Open the gates, we are King Henry’s friends.
He descends [with his brethren]
So32 ’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.
Enter the Mayor and two Aldermen [below]
But36 in the night or in the time of war.
What! Fear not, man, but yield me up the keys.
Takes his keys
For Edward will defend the town and thee,
And all those friends that deign39 to follow me.
March. Enter Montgomery, with Drum and Soldiers
Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.
As every loyal subject ought to do.
Our title to the crown and only claim
Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest.
I came to serve a king and not a duke.—
50 Drummer, strike up and let us march away.
The Drum begins to march
By what safe means the crown may be recovered.
If you’ll not here proclaim yourself our king,
55 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 pretend57 no title?
60 Till then, ’tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.60
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand.63
The bruit64 thereof will bring you many friends.
And Henry but usurps the diadem.
And now will I be Edward’s champion.68
70 Come, fellow soldier, make thou proclamation.
Flourish. Sound70
By this I challenge him to single fight.
Throws down his gauntlet74
If fortune serve me, I’ll requite this kindness.
Now, for this night, let’s harbour78 here in York,
And when the morning sun shall raise his car79
80 Above the border of this horizon,
We’ll forward towards Warwick and his mates;
For well I wot82 that Henry is no soldier.
Ah, froward83 Clarence, how evil it beseems thee
To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother!
85 Yet, as we may, we’ll meet both thee and Warwick.
Come on, brave soldiers, doubt not of the day,86
And that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.
Exeunt
Flourish. Enter the King, Warwick, Montague, Clarence, Oxford and Somerset
With hasty2 Germans and blunt Hollanders,
Hath passed in safety through the narrow seas,3
And with his troops doth march amain4 to London,
5 And many giddy5 people flock to him.
Which, being suffered,8 rivers cannot quench.
10 Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war.
Those will I muster up, and thou, son11 Clarence,
Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk and in Kent,
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee.
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
15 Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find
Men well inclined to hear what thou command’st.
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous17 well beloved,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.
My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
20 Like to his island girt in with20 the ocean,
Or modest Dian21 circled with her nymphs,
Shall rest22 in London till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave and stand not23 to reply.
Farewell, my sovereign.
And all at once,31 once more a happy farewell.
Exeunt. [King Henry and Exeter remain]
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship?
35 Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
Should not be able to encounter36 mine.
I have not stopped mine ears to their demands,39
40 Nor posted off40 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,
45 Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies,45
Nor forward of46 revenge, though they much erred.
Then why should they love Edward more than me?
No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace,48
And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
50 The lamb will never cease to follow him.
Shout within, ‘A Lancaster! A Lancaster!’
Enter Edward and his Soldiers
And once again proclaim us King of England.—
You are the fount54 that makes small brooks to flow:
55 Now stops thy spring, my sea shall suck them dry,
And swell so much the higher by their ebb.56—
Hence with him to the Tower. Let him not speak.
Exeunt [some] with King Henry
And, lords, towards Coventry bend58 we our course
Where peremptory59 Warwick now remains.
60 The sun shines hot, and if we use delay,
Cold biting winter mars61 our hoped-for hay.
And take the great-grown traitor unawares.
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.
Exeunt
Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers and others upon the walls
How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
[He may exit]
5 Where is the post that came from Montague?
[He may exit]
Enter Somerville
And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
10 And do expect him here some two hours hence. Drum heard
The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick.
[Exit into the city]
March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard and Soldiers
Where slept our scouts or how are they seduced,
20 That we could hear no news of his repair?20
Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy knee?
Call Edward king and at his hands beg mercy,
And he shall pardon thee these outrages.
Confess who set thee up and plucked thee down,
Call Warwick patron27 and be penitent?
And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.
30 Or did he make the jest against his will?
I’ll do thee service for so good a gift.
And weakling, Warwick takes his gift again,
And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.
40 And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this:
What is the body when the head is off?
But whiles he thought to steal the single ten,43
The king was slyly fingered44 from the deck.
45 You left poor Henry at the bishop’s palace,
And ten to one you’ll meet him in the Tower.
Nay, when?49 Strike now, or else the iron cools.
And with the other fling it at thy face,
Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.
This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,
55 Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off,
Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,
‘Wind-changing57 Warwick now can change no more.’
Enter Oxford with Drum and Colours
Stand we in good array,62 for they no doubt
Will issue out again and bid63 us battle;
If not, the city being but of small defence,64
65 We’ll quickly rouse65 the traitors in the same. Oxford appears on the walls
Enter Montague with Drum and Colours
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
My mind presageth71 happy gain and conquest.
Enter Somerset with Drum and Colours
Have sold their lives unto the house of York,
75 And thou shalt be the third if this sword hold.
Enter Clarence with Drum and Colours
Of force enough to bid his brother battle,
With whom an upright zeal to right78 prevails
More than the nature79 of a brother’s love.
80 Come, Clarence, come. Thou wilt, if Warwick call.
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee. Throws it at Warwick
I will not ruinate83 my father’s house,
Who gave his blood to lime84 the stones together,
85 And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou,85 Warwick,
That CIarence is so harsh, so blunt,86 unnatural,
To bend87 the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother and his lawful king?
Perhaps thou wilt object89 my holy oath:
90 To keep that oath were more impiety
Than Jephthah,91 when he sacrificed his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass92 made
That, to deserve well at my brother’s hands,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe,
95 With resolution, wheresoe’er I meet thee —
As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad96 —
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
And to my brother turn my blushing99 cheeks.—
100 Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends.—
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.102
Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
110 I will away towards Barnet110 presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar’st.
Lords, to the field. Saint George and victory!
Exeunt [King Edward and his company]. March.
Warwick and his company follows
Alarum and excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwick wounded
For Warwick was a bug2 that feared us all.
Now, Montague, sit fast:3 I seek for thee,
That4 Warwick’s bones may keep thine company.
Exit
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
10 And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar11 to the axe’s edge,
Whose arms12 gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping13 lion slept,
Whose top-branch overpeered14 Jove’s spreading tree
15 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 search18 the secret treasons of the world.
The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood,
20 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?22
Lo, now my glory smeared in dust and blood.
My parks,24 my walks, my manors that I had,
25 Even now forsake me; and of all my lands
Is nothing left me but my body’s length.
Why, what is pomp,27 rule, reign, but earth and dust?
And live we how we can, yet die we must.
Enter Oxford and Somerset
30 We might recover all our loss again.
The queen from France hath brought a puissant power.31
Even now we heard the news. Ah, couldst thou fly.
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand
35 And with35 thy lips keep in my soul awhile.
Thou lov’st me not, for, brother, if thou didst,
Thy tears would wash this cold congealèd blood
That glues my lips and will not let me speak.
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
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 cannon in a vault,
45 That mought45 not be distinguished, but at last
I well might hear, delivered with a groan,
‘O, farewell, Warwick!’
For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven. Dies
Here they bear away his body. Exeunt
Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph,* with Richard, Clarence and the rest
And we are graced with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threat’ning cloud,
5 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 Gallia8 have arrived our coast
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
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.
15 And Somerset with Oxford fled to her:
If she have time to breathe,16 be well assured
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury.19
20 We, having now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way,21
And as we march, our strength will be augmented
In every county as we go along.
Strike up the drum, cry ‘Courage!’ and away.
Exeunt
Flourish. March. Enter the Queen, young Edward, Somerset, Oxford and Soldiers
But cheerly2 seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown overboard,
The cable broke, the holding-anchor4 lost,
5 And half our sailors swallowed in the flood?5
Yet lives our pilot6 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,
10 Whiles, in his moan,10 the ship splits on the rock,
Which industry11 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 topmast: what of him?
15 Our slaughtered friends the tackles:15 what of these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast?
The friends of France our shrouds18 and tacklings?
And, though unskilful, why not Ned19 and I
20 For once allowed the skilful pilot’s charge?20
We will not from21 the helm to sit and weep,
But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,
From shelves23 and rocks that threaten us with wreck.
As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.
25 And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?
And Richard but a ragged27 fatal rock?
All these the enemies to our poor bark.28
Say you can swim, alas, ’tis but a while:
30 Tread on the sand, why, there you quickly sink,
Bestride31 the rock, the tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that’s a three-fold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
If case some one of you would fly from us,
35 That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers
More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.
Why, courage then: what cannot be avoided
’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
40 Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity41
And make him, naked,42 foil a man at arms.
I speak not this as doubting any here,
For did I but suspect a fearful man
45 He should have leave to go away betimes,45
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.
And warriors faint: why, ’twere perpetual shame.
O, brave young prince, thy famous grandfather52
Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live
To bear his image and renew his glories!
Go home to bed, and like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mocked and wondered at.
Enter a Messenger
Ready to fight: therefore be resolute.
[He may exit]
To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.63
Flourish and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence and Soldiers
Which by the heavens’ assistance and your strength,
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
70 I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For well I wot71 ye blaze to burn them out.
Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords!
My tears gainsay,74 for every word I speak,
75 Ye see I drink the water of my eye.
Therefore no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,
Is prisoner to the foe, his state77 usurped,
His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancelled and his treasure spent,
80 And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.80
You fight in justice. Then, in God’s name, lords,
Be valiant and give signal to the fight.
Alarum, retreat, excursions. Exeunt
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard [and] Clarence [with] Queen, Oxford, Somerset,
[prisoners]
Away with Oxford to Hames2 Castle straight.
For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
Go, bear them hence: I will not hear them speak.
Exeunt [Oxford and Somerset, guarded]
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.8
10 Shall have a high reward, and he10 his life?
Enter [Soldiers with] the Prince
What? Can so young a thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction14 canst thou make
15 For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turned me to?
Suppose that I am now my father’s mouth.
Resign thy chair,19 and where I stand kneel thou,
20 Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.
And ne’er have stol’n the breech24 from Lancaster.
His currish26 riddles sorts not with this place.
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George,
35 And thou misshapen Dick,35 I tell ye all
I am your better, traitors as ye are,
And thou usurp’st my father’s right and mine.
Stabs him
Richard stabs him
Clarence stabs him
Offers to kill her
I’ll hence to London on a serious matter.
Ere ye come there, be sure48 to hear some news.
Exit
Canst thou not speak? O, traitors, murderers!
They that stabbed Caesar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
55 If this foul deed were by55 to equal it.
He was a man; this, in respect,56 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 —
60 And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely62 cropped.
You have no63 children, butchers! If you had,
The thought of them would have stirred up remorse.64
65 But if you ever chance to have a child,
Look66 in his youth to have him so cut off
As, deathmen, you have rid67 this sweet young prince.
70 Here70 sheathe thy sword, I’ll pardon thee my death.
What, wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do it thou.
’Twas sin before, but now ’tis charity.
What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil’s butcher, Richard?
Hard-favoured78 Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here; murder is thy alms-deed:79
80 Petitioners for blood thou ne’er put’st back.80
Exit Queen, [dragged out by Soldiers]
85 To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
Now march we hence. Discharge the common sort87
With pay and thanks, and let’s away to London
And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
90 By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.
Exeunt
Enter Henry the Sixth and Richard, with the Lieutenant, on the walls
’Tis sin to flatter. ‘Good’ was little better.3
‘Good Gloucester’ and ‘good devil’ were alike,
5 And both preposterous:5 therefore, not ‘good lord’.
[Exit Lieutenant]
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece
And next his throat unto the butcher’s knife.
10 What scene of death hath Roscius10 now to act?
The thief doth fear each bush an officer
With trembling wings misdoubteth14 every bush;
15 And I, the hapless male15 to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal16 object in my eye
Where17 my poor young was limed, was caught and killed.
That taught his son the office of a fowl!
20 And yet, for all his wings, the fool20 was drowned.
Thy father, Minos,22 that denied our course,
The sun23 that seared the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea
25 Whose envious25 gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
My breast can better brook27 thy dagger’s point
Than can my ears that tragic history.28
But wherefore dost thou come? Is’t for my life?
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why then, thou art an executioner.
Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust38 no parcel of my fear,
And many an old man’s sigh and many a widow’s,
40 And many an orphan’s water-standing40 eye —
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
Orphans for their parents’ timeless42 death —
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shrieked at thy birth — an evil sign —
45 The night-crow45 cried, aboding luckless time,
Dogs howled, and hideous tempest shook down trees,
The raven rooked her47 on the chimney’s top,
And chatt’ring pies48 in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother’s pain,49
50 And yet brought forth less than a mother’s hope,
To wit,51 an indigested and deformèd lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth53 hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
To signify thou cam’st to bite the world.
55 And if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam’st—
For this amongst the rest, was I ordained.58
Stabs him
60 O, God forgive my sins and pardon thee!
Dies
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
See how my sword weeps63 for the poor king’s death.
O, may such purple64 tears be alway shed
65 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,
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Stabs him again
Indeed, ’tis true that69 Henry told me of,
70 For I have often heard my mother say
I came71 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 wondered74 and the women cried
75 ‘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 crook’d my mind to answer79 it.
80 I have no brother, I am like no brother.
And this word ‘love’, which greybeards81 call divine,
Be resident in men like82 one another
And not in me: I am myself alone.
Clarence, beware, thou keep’st me from the light,84
85 But I will sort85 a pitchy day for thee,
For I will buzz abroad86 such prophecies
That Edward shall be fearful of87 his life,
And then, to purge his fear, I’ll be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone.
90 Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
Counting myself but bad91 till I be best.
I’ll throw thy body in another room
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.93
Exit [with the body]
Flourish. Enter King, Queen, Clarence, Richard, Hastings, Nurse [with the young Prince] and Attendants
Repurchased with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foemen, like to autumn’s corn,
Have we mowed down in tops4 of all their pride!
5 Three Dukes of Somerset, three-fold renowned
For hardy6 and undoubted champions,
Two Cliffords, as7 the father and the son,
And two Northumberlands: two braver men
Ne’er spurred their coursers9 at the trumpet’s sound.
10 With them, the two brave bears,10 Warwick and Montague,
That in11 their chains fettered the kingly lion
And made the forest tremble when they roared.
Thus have we swept suspicion13 from our seat
And made our footstool of security.—
15 Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.—
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watched17 the winter’s night,
Went all afoot18 in summer’s scalding heat,
That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace,
20 And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
For yet I am not looked on22 in the world.
This shoulder was ordained so thick23 to heave,
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back.
25 Work25 thou the way, and that shalt execute.
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. Kisses the baby
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.—
To say the truth, so Judas33 kissed his master Aside
And cried ‘All hail!’ whenas34 he meant all harm.
Having my country’s peace and brothers’ loves.
Reynard,38 her father, to the King of France
Hath pawned the Sicils and Jerusalem,
40 And hither have they sent it40 for her ransom.
And now what rests but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs,43 mirthful comic shows,
Such as befits the pleasure of the court.
45 Sound drums and trumpets! Farewell sour45 annoy,
For here I hope begins our lasting joy.
Exeunt all
O = First Octavo text of 1595
Q3 = Third Quarto text of 1619
F = First Folio text of 1623
F2 = a correction introduced in the Second Folio text of 1632
F3 = a correction introduced in the Third Folio text of 1663–64
Ed = a correction introduced by a later editor
SD = Stage direction
SH = Speech heading (i.e., speaker’s names)
List of parts = Ed
1.1.2 SH YORK = O. F = Pl. or Plat. (throughout) 106 Thy = O. F = My 171 hear me = F3. F = heare 262 with me = O. F = me 264 from = O. F = to 276 SD Flourish printed as part of the entrance direction to the next scene in F 1.2.47 SD a Messenger = O. F = Gabriel (the name of an actor in Shakespeare’s company) 49 SH MESSENGER = O. F = Gabriel 2.1.96 recount = F3. F = tecompt 130 an idle = O. F = a lazie 2.2.89 Since = F2. F = Cla. Since (assigning lines 89–92 to George of Clarence) 151 dauphin spelled Dolphin in F 163 SH GEORGE = O. F = Cla.
2.5.89 stratagems = F3. F = Stragems 90 Erroneous = F2. F = Erreoneous 119 E’en = Ed. F = Men
2.6.8 The…flies = O. Not in F 44 SH EDWARD See…is. = O. Assigned to Richard in F 60 his = O. F = is 91 sinew spelled sinow in F
3.1.0 SD two Keepers = O. F = Sinklo, and Humfrey (the names of actors in Shakespeare’s company) 1 SH FIRST KEEPER = Ed. F = Sink. or Sinklo. (throughout) 5 SH SECOND KEEPER = Ed. F = Hum. throughout 17 wast = F3. F = was 30 Is = F2. F = I: 55 that = O. Not in F
3.2.8 SH GLOUCESTER F = Rich. 18 SH LADY GREY = Ed. F = Wid. 84 looks do = F2. F = Looks doth 124 honourably = O. F = honorable
3.3.126 external = F. O = eternall
4.1.92 thy = O. F = the
4.2.15 towns = Ed. F = Towne
4.4.17 wean spelled waine in F
4.5.4 stands = Ed. F = stand 8 Comes = Ed. F = Come
5.1.78 an = F2. F = in
5.7.5 renowned = Q3. F = Renowne 30 SH QUEEN ELIZABETH = O. F = Cla. Thanks = O. F = Thanke