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The third Part of Henry the Sixt by William Shakespeare

Part 2 out of 3

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King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane

Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege

King. I, but I feare me in another sence.
What Loue, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?
Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,
That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts

King. No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue

Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did

King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde

Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue
Your Highnesse aymes at, if I ayme aright

King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee

Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prison

King. Why then thou shalt not haue thy Husbands

Wid. Why then mine Honestie shall be my Dower,
For by that losse, I will not purchase them

King. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily

Wid. Herein your Highnesse wrongs both them & me:
But mightie Lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadnesse of my suit:
Please you dismisse me, eyther with I, or no

King. I, if thou wilt say I to my request:
No, if thou do'st say No to my demand

Wid. Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end

Rich. The Widow likes him not, shee knits her

Clarence. Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christendome

King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty,
Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable,
All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie,
One way, or other, shee is for a King,
And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene.
Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene?
Wid. 'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord:
I am a subiect fit to ieast withall,
But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne

King. Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee,
I speake no more then what my Soule intends,
And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue

Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto:
I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,
And yet too good to be your Concubine

King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene

Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call
you Father

King. No more, then when my Daughters
Call thee Mother.
Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children,
And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,
Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the Father vnto many Sonnes:
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene

Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift

Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift

King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue

Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very

King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie

Clarence. To who, my Lord?
King. Why Clarence, to my selfe

Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least

Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts

Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes

King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both,
Her suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands.
Enter a Noble man

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,
And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate

King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower:
And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him,
To question of his apprehension.
Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.


Manet Richard.

Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably:
Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring,
To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for:
And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me,
The lustfull Edwards Title buryed,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward,
And all the vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies,
To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe:
A cold premeditation for my purpose.
Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie,
Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie,
And spyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread,
Wishing his foot were equall with his eye,
And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence,
Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way:
So doe I wish the Crowne, being so farre off,
And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it,
And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off,
Flattering me with impossibilities:
My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much,
Vnlesse my Hand and Strength could equall them.
Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard:
What other Pleasure can the World affoord?
Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe,
And decke my Body in gay Ornaments,
And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes.
Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely,
Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes.
Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe:
And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes,
Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe,
To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub,
To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back,
Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body;
To shape my Legges of an vnequall size,
To dis-proportion me in euery part:
Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe,
That carryes no impression like the Damme.
And am I then a man to be belou'd?
Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought.
Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me,
But to command, to check, to o're-beare such,
As are of better Person then my selfe:
Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne,
And whiles I liue, t' account this World but Hell,
Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head,
Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne.
And yet I know not how to get the Crowne,
For many Liues stand betweene me and home:
And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood,
That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes,
Seeking a way, and straying from the way,
Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre,
But toyling desperately to finde it out,
Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne:
And from that torment I will free my selfe,
Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe.
Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile,
And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart,
And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares,
And frame my Face to all occasions.
Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall,
Ile slay more gazers then the Basiliske,
Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor,
Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could,
And like a Synon, take another Troy.
I can adde Colours to the Camelion,
Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages,
And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole.
Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne?
Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe.

Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his
call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward, Queene Margaret, and the Earle of
Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.

Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret,
Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State,
And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit

Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margaret
Must strike her sayle, and learne a while to serue,
Where Kings command. I was (I must confesse)
Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes:
But now mischance hath trod my Title downe,
And with dis-honor layd me on the ground,
Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune,
And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe

Lewis. Why say, faire Queene, whence springs this
deepe despaire?
Marg. From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares,
And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares

Lewis. What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe,
And sit thee by our side.

Seats her by him.

Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake,
But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph,
Ouer all mischance.
Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe,
It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe

Marg. Those gracious words
Reuiue my drooping thoughts,
And giue my tongue-ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake.
Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis,
That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue,
Is, of a King, become a banisht man,
And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne;
While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke,
Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat
Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King.
This is the cause that I, poore Margaret,
With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire,
Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde:
And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done.
Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe:
Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led,
Our Treasure seiz'd, our Souldiors put to flight,
And (as thou seest) our selues in heauie plight

Lewis. Renowned Queene,
With patience calme the Storme,
While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off

Marg. The more wee stay, the stronger growes our

Lewis. The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee

Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.
Enter Warwicke.

Lewis. What's hee approacheth boldly to our presence?
Marg. Our Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatest

Lewis. Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings thee
to France?

Hee descends. Shee ariseth.

Marg. I now begins a second Storme to rise,
For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde

Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend,
I come (in Kindnesse, and vnfayned Loue)
First, to doe greetings to thy Royall Person,
And then to craue a League of Amitie:
And lastly, to confirme that Amitie
With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to graunt
That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sister,
To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage

Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done

Warw. And gracious Madame,

Speaking to Bona.

In our Kings behalfe,
I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor,
Humbly to kisse your Hand, and with my Tongue
To tell the passion of my Soueraignes Heart;
Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares,
Hath plac'd thy Beauties Image, and thy Vertue

Marg. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, heare me speake,
Before you answer Warwicke. His demand
Springs not from Edwards well-meant honest Loue,
But from Deceit, bred by Necessitie:
For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home,
Vnlesse abroad they purchase great allyance?
To proue him Tyrant, this reason may suffice,
That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead,
Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne.
Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and Mariage
Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honor:
For though Vsurpers sway the rule a while,
Yet Heau'ns are iust, and Time suppresseth Wrongs

Warw. Iniurious Margaret

Edw. And why not Queene?
Warw. Because thy Father Henry did vsurpe,
And thou no more art Prince, then shee is Queene

Oxf. Then Warwicke disanulls great Iohn of Gaunt,
Which did subdue the greatest part of Spaine;
And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Whose Wisdome was a Mirror to the wisest:
And after that wise Prince, Henry the Fift,
Who by his Prowesse conquered all France:
From these, our Henry lineally descends

Warw. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse,
You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath lost
All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten:
Me thinkes these Peeres of France should smile at that.
But for the rest: you tell a Pedigree
Of threescore and two yeeres, a silly time
To make prescription for a Kingdomes worth

Oxf. Why Warwicke, canst thou speak against thy Liege,
Whom thou obeyd'st thirtie and six yeeres,
And not bewray thy Treason with a Blush?
Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer fence the right,
Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree?
For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King

Oxf. Call him my King, by whose iniurious doome
My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere
Was done to death? and more then so, my Father,
Euen in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yeeres,
When Nature brought him to the doore of Death?
No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme,
This Arme vpholds the House of Lancaster

Warw. And I the House of Yorke

Lewis. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,
Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside,
While I vse further conference with Warwicke.

They stand aloofe.

Marg. Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes bewitch
him not

Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conscience
Is Edward your true King? for I were loth
To linke with him, that were not lawfull chosen

Warw. Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Honor

Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye?
Warw. The more, that Henry was vnfortunate

Lewis. Then further: all dissembling set aside,
Tell me for truth, the measure of his Loue
Vnto our Sister Bona

War. Such it seemes,
As may beseeme a Monarch like himselfe.
My selfe haue often heard him say, and sweare,
That this his Loue was an externall Plant,
Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground,
The Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne,
Exempt from Enuy, but not from Disdaine,
Vnlesse the Lady Bona quit his paine

Lewis. Now Sister, let vs heare your firme resolue

Bona. Your graunt, or your denyall, shall be mine.
Yet I confesse, that often ere this day,

Speaks to War[wicke].

When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted,
Mine eare hath tempted iudgement to desire

Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus:
Our Sister shall be Edwards.
And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne,
Touching the Ioynture that your King must make,
Which with her Dowrie shall be counter-poys'd:
Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witnesse,
That Bona shall be Wife to the English King

Pr.Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King

Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice,
By this alliance to make void my suit:
Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend

Lewis. And still is friend to him, and Margaret.
But if your Title to the Crowne by weake,
As may appeare by Edwards good successe:
Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd
From giuing ayde, which late I promised.
Yet shall you haue all kindnesse at my hand,
That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld

Warw. Henry now liues in Scotland, at his ease;
Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lose.
And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene)
You haue a Father able to maintaine you,
And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France

Mar. Peace impudent, and shamelesse Warwicke,
Proud setter vp, and puller downe of Kings,
I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares
(Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold
Thy slye conueyance, and thy Lords false loue,

Post blowing a horne Within.

For both of you are Birds of selfe-same Feather

Lewes. Warwicke, this is some poste to vs, or thee.
Enter the Poste.

Post. My Lord Ambassador,
These Letters are for you.

Speakes to Warwick,

Sent from your Brother Marquesse Montague.
These from our King, vnto your Maiesty.

To Lewis.

And Madam, these for you:

To Margaret

From whom, I know not.

They all reade their Letters.

Oxf. I like it well, that our faire Queene and Mistris
Smiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his

Prince Ed. Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he were
netled. I hope, all's for the best

Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes?
And yours, faire Queene

Mar. Mine such, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes

War. Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent

Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey?
And now to sooth your Forgery, and his,
Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience?
Is this th' Alliance that he seekes with France?
Dare he presume to scorne vs in this manner?
Mar. I told your Maiesty as much before:
This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honesty

War. King Lewis, I heere protest in sight of heauen,
And by the hope I haue of heauenly blisse,
That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards;
No more my King, for he dishonors me,
But most himselfe, if he could see his shame.
Did I forget, that by the House of Yorke
My Father came vntimely to his death?
Did I let passe th' abuse done to my Neece?
Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne?
Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right?
And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame?
Shame on himselfe, for my Desert is Honor.
And to repaire my Honor lost for him,
I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry.
My Noble Queene, let former grudges passe,
And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour:
I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
And replant Henry in his former state

Mar. Warwicke,
These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue,
And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults,
And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend

War. So much his Friend, I, his Vnfained Friend,
That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish vs
With some few Bands of chosen Soldiours,
Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast,
And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre.
'Tis not his new-made Bride shall succour him.
And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,
Hee's very likely now to fall from him,
For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor,
Or then for strength and safety of our Country

Bona. Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd,
But by thy helpe to this distressed Queene?
Mar. Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry liue,
Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire?
Bona. My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one

War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours

Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets.
Therefore, at last, I firmely am resolu'd
You shall haue ayde

Mar. Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once

Lew. Then Englands Messenger, returne in Poste,
And tell false Edward, thy supposed King,
That Lewis of France, is sending ouer Maskers
To reuell it with him, and his new Bride.
Thou seest what's past, go feare thy King withall

Bona. Tell him, in hope hee'l proue a widower shortly,
I weare the Willow Garland for his sake

Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are layde aside,
And I am ready to put Armor on

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile vn-Crowne him, er't be long.
There's thy reward, be gone.

Exit Post.

Lew. But Warwicke,
Thou and Oxford, with fiue thousand men
Shall crosse the Seas, and bid false Edward battaile:
And as occasion serues, this Noble Queen
And Prince, shall follow with a fresh Supply.
Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt:
What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty?
War. This shall assure my constant Loyalty,
That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree,
Ile ioyne mine eldest daughter, and my Ioy,
To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands

Mar. Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motion.
Sonne Edward, she is Faire and Vertuous,
Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke,
And with thy hand, thy faith irreuocable,
That onely Warwickes daughter shall be thine

Prin.Ed. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserues it,
And heere to pledge my Vow, I giue my hand.

He giues his hand to Warw[icke].

Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers shalbe leuied,
And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admirall
Shall waft them ouer with our Royall Fleete.
I long till Edward fall by Warres mischance,
For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.

Exeunt. Manet Warwicke.

War. I came from Edward as Ambassador,
But I returne his sworne and mortall Foe:
Matter of Marriage was the charge he gaue me,
But dreadfull Warre shall answer his demand.
Had he none else to make a stale but me?
Then none but I, shall turne his Iest to Sorrow.
I was the Cheefe that rais'd him to the Crowne,
And Ile be Cheefe to bring him downe againe:
Not that I pitty Henries misery,
But seeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery.

Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerset, and Mountague.

Rich. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you
Of this new Marriage with the Lady Gray?
Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice?
Cla. Alas, you know, tis farre from hence to France,
How could he stay till Warwicke made returne?
Som. My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes the

Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Stafford,
foure stand on one side, and foure on the other.

Rich. And his well-chosen Bride

Clarence. I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke

King. Now Brother of Clarence,
How like you our Choyce,
That you stand pensiue, as halfe malecontent?
Clarence. As well as Lewis of France,
Or the Earle of Warwicke,
Which are so weake of courage, and in iudgement,
That they'le take no offence at our abuse

King. Suppose they take offence without a cause:
They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward,
Your King and Warwickes, and must haue my will

Rich. And shall haue your will, because our King:
Yet hastie Marriage seldome proueth well

King. Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too?
Rich. Not I: no:
God forbid, that I should wish them seuer'd,
Whom God hath ioyn'd together:
I, and 'twere pittie, to sunder them,
That yoake so well together

King. Setting your skornes, and your mislike aside,
Tell me some reason, why the Lady Grey
Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene?
And you too, Somerset, and Mountague,
Speake freely what you thinke

Clarence. Then this is mine opinion:
That King Lewis becomes your Enemie,
For mocking him about the Marriage
Of the Lady Bona

Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge,
Is now dis-honored by this new Marriage

King. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd,
By such inuention as I can deuise?
Mount. Yet, to haue ioyn'd with France in such alliance,
Would more haue strength'ned this our Commonwealth
'Gainst forraine stormes, then any home-bred Marriage

Hast. Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it selfe,
England is safe, if true within it selfe?
Mount. But the safer, when 'tis back'd with France

Hast. 'Tis better vsing France, then trusting France:
Let vs be back'd with God, and with the Seas,
Which he hath giu'n for fence impregnable,
And with their helpes, onely defend our selues:
In them, and in our selues, our safetie lyes

Clar. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserues
To haue the Heire of the Lord Hungerford

King. I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt,
And for this once, my Will shall stand for Law

Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well,
To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales
Vnto the Brother of your louing Bride;
Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence:
But in your Bride you burie Brotherhood

Clar. Or else you would not haue bestow'd the Heire
Of the Lord Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne,
And leaue your Brothers to goe speede elsewhere

King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife
That thou art malecontent? I will prouide thee

Clarence. In chusing for your selfe,
You shew'd your iudgement:
Which being shallow, you shall giue me leaue
To play the Broker in mine owne behalfe;
And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you

King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King,
And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will

Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd his Maiestie
To rayse my State to Title of a Queene,
Doe me but right, and you must all confesse,
That I was not ignoble of Descent,
And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune.
But as this Title honors me and mine,
So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,
Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with sorrow

King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes:
What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee,
So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey?
Nay, whom they shall obey, and loue thee too,
Vnlesse they seeke for hatred at my hands:
Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe,
And they shall feele the vengeance of my wrath

Rich. I heare, yet say not much, but thinke the more.
Enter a Poste

King. Now Messenger, what Letters, or what Newes
from France?
Post. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words,
But such, as I (without your speciall pardon)
Dare not relate

King. Goe too, wee pardon thee:
Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words,
As neere as thou canst guesse them.
What answer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters?
Post. At my depart, these were his very words:
Goe tell false Edward, the supposed King,
That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers,
To reuell it with him, and his new Bride

King. Is Lewis so braue? belike he thinkes me Henry.
But what said Lady Bona to my Marriage?
Post. These were her words, vtt'red with mild disdaine:
Tell him, in hope hee'le proue a Widower shortly,
Ile weare the Willow Garland for his sake

King. I blame not her; she could say little lesse:
She had the wrong. But what said Henries Queene?
For I haue heard, that she was there in place

Post. Tell him (quoth she)
My mourning Weedes are done,
And I am readie to put Armour on

King. Belike she minds to play the Amazon.
But what said Warwicke to these iniuries?
Post. He, more incens'd against your Maiestie,
Then all the rest, discharg'd me with these words:
Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long

King. Ha? durst the Traytor breath out so prowd words?
Well, I will arme me, being thus fore-warn'd:
They shall haue Warres, and pay for their presumption.
But say, is Warwicke friends with Margaret?
Post. I, gracious Soueraigne,
They are so link'd in friendship,
That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwicks Daughter

Clarence. Belike, the elder;
Clarence will haue the younger.
Now Brother King farewell, and sit you fast,
For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter,
That though I want a Kingdome, yet in Marriage
I may not proue inferior to your selfe.
You that loue me, and Warwicke, follow me.

Exit Clarence, and Somerset followes.

Rich. Not I:
My thoughts ayme at a further matter:
I stay not for the loue of Edward, but the Crowne

King. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwicke?
Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen:
And haste is needfull in this desp'rate case.
Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalfe
Goe leuie men, and make prepare for Warre;
They are alreadie, or quickly will be landed:
My selfe in person will straight follow you.

Exeunt. Pembrooke and Stafford.

But ere I goe, Hastings and Mountague
Resolue my doubt: you twaine, of all the rest,
Are neere to Warwicke, by bloud, and by allyance:
Tell me, if you loue Warwicke more then me;
If it be so, then both depart to him:
I rather wish you foes, then hollow friends.
But if you minde to hold your true obedience,
Giue me assurance with some friendly Vow,
That I may neuer haue you in suspect

Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as hee proues

Hast. And Hastings, as hee fauours Edwards cause

King. Now, Brother Richard, will you stand by vs?
Rich. I, in despight of all that shall withstand you

King. Why so: then am I sure of Victorie.
Now therefore let vs hence, and lose no howre,
Till wee meet Warwicke, with his forreine powre.


Enter Warwicke and Oxford in England, with French Souldiors.

Warw. Trust me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well,
The common people by numbers swarme to vs.
Enter Clarence and Somerset.

But see where Somerset and Clarence comes:
Speake suddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends?
Clar. Feare not that, my Lord

Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke,
And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardize,
To rest mistrustfull, where a Noble Heart
Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue;
Else might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother,
Were but a fained friend to our proceedings:
But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine.
And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture,
Thy Brother being carelessely encamp'd,
His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about,
And but attended by a simple Guard,
Wee may surprize and take him at our pleasure,
Our Scouts haue found the aduenture very easie:
That as Vlysses, and stout Diomede,
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds;
So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle,
At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard,
And seize himselfe: I say not, slaughter him,
For I intend but onely to surprize him.
You that will follow me to this attempt,
Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.

They all cry, Henry.

Why then, let's on our way in silent sort,
For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.


Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.

1.Watch. Come on my Masters, each man take his stand,
The King by this, is set him downe to sleepe

2.Watch. What, will he not to Bed?
1.Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a solemne Vow,
Neuer to lye and take his naturall Rest,
Till Warwicke, or himselfe, be quite supprest

2.Watch. To morrow then belike shall be the day,
If Warwicke be so neere as men report

3.Watch. But say, I pray, what Noble man is that,
That with the King here resteth in his Tent?
1.Watch. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the Kings chiefest

3.Watch. O, is it so? but why commands the King,
That his chiefe followers lodge in Townes about him,
While he himselfe keepes in the cold field?
2.Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous

3.Watch. I, but giue me worship, and quietnesse,
I like it better then a dangerous honor.
If Warwicke knew in what estate he stands,
'Tis to be doubted if he would waken him

1.Watch. Vnlesse our Halberds did shut vp his passage

2.Watch. I: wherefore else guard we his Royall Tent,
But to defend his Person from Night-foes?
Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, and French
Souldiors, silent

Warw. This is his Tent, and see where stand his Guard:
Courage my Masters: Honor now, or neuer:
But follow me, and Edward shall be ours

1.Watch. Who goes there?
2.Watch. Stay, or thou dyest.

Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke, and set vpon
Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme, Warwicke and the rest
following them.

The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding. Enter Warwicke,
Somerset, and
the rest, bringing the King out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire:
and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage

Som. What are they that flye there?
Warw. Richard and Hastings: let them goe, heere is
the Duke

K.Edw. The Duke?
Why Warwicke, when wee parted,
Thou call'dst me King

Warw. I, but the case is alter'd.
When you disgrac'd me in my Embassade,
Then I degraded you from being King,
And come now to create you Duke of Yorke.
Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome,
That know not how to vse Embassadors,
Nor how to be contented with one Wife,
Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly,
Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare,
Nor how to shrowd your selfe from Enemies?
K.Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,
Art thou here too?
Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe.
Yet Warwicke, in despight of all mischance,
Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices,
Edward will alwayes beare himselfe as King:
Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my State,
My minde exceedes the compasse of her Wheele

Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,

Takes off his Crowne.

But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne,
And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow.
My Lord of Somerset, at my request,
See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'd
Vnto my Brother Arch-Bishop of Yorke:
When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes,
Ile follow you, and tell what answer
Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.
Now for a-while farewell good Duke of Yorke.

They leade him out forcibly.

K.Ed. What Fates impose, that men must needs abide;
It boots not to resist both winde and tide.


Oxf. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do,
But march to London with our Soldiers?
War. I, that's the first thing that we haue to do,
To free King Henry from imprisonment,
And see him seated in the Regall Throne.

Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.

Riu. Madam, what makes you in this sodain change?
Gray. Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learne
What late misfortune is befalne King Edward?
Riu. What losse of some pitcht battell
Against Warwicke?
Gray. No, but the losse of his owne Royall person

Riu. Then is my Soueraigne slaine?
Gray. I almost slaine, for he is taken prisoner,
Either betrayd by falshood of his Guard,
Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares:
And as I further haue to vnderstand,
Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke,
Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe

Riu. These Newes I must confesse are full of greefe,
Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may,
Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day

Gray. Till then, faire hope must hinder liues decay:
And I the rather waine me from dispaire
For loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe:
This is it that makes me bridle passion,
And beare with Mildnesse my misfortunes crosse:
I, I, for this I draw in many a teare,
And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighes,
Least with my sighes or teares, I blast or drowne
King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne

Riu. But Madam,
Where is Warwicke then become?
Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
To set the Crowne once more on Henries head,
Guesse thou the rest, King Edwards Friends must downe.
But to preuent the Tyrants violence,
(For trust not him that hath once broken Faith)
Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary,
To saue (at least) the heire of Edwards right:
There shall I rest secure from force and fraud:
Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye,
If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.


Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley.

Rich. Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley
Leaue off to wonder why I drew you hither,
Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke.
Thus stand the case: you know our King, my Brother,
Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands
He hath good vsage, and great liberty,
And often but attended with weake guard,
Come hunting this way to disport himselfe.
I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes,
That if about this houre he make this way,
Vnder the colour of his vsuall game,
He shall heere finde his Friends with Horse and Men,
To set him free from his Captiuitie.
Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman with him.

Huntsman. This way my Lord,
For this way lies the Game

King Edw. Nay this way man,
See where the Huntsmen stand.
Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
Stand you thus close to steale the Bishops Deere?
Rich. Brother, the time and case, requireth hast,
Your horse stands ready at the Parke-corner

King Ed. But whether shall we then?
Hast. To Lyn my Lord,
And shipt from thence to Flanders

Rich. Wel guest beleeue me, for that was my meaning
K.Ed. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardnesse

Rich. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talke

K.Ed. Huntsman, what say'st thou?
Wilt thou go along?
Hunts. Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd

Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo

K.Ed. Bishop farwell,
Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,
And pray that I may re-possesse the Crowne.


Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke,
Somerset, young
Henry, Oxford, Mountague, and Lieutenant.

K.Hen. M[aster]. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends
Haue shaken Edward from the Regall seate,
And turn'd my captiue state to libertie,
My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes,
At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?
Lieu. Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains
But, if an humble prayer may preuaile,
I then craue pardon of your Maiestie

K.Hen. For what, Lieutenant? For well vsing me?
Nay, be thou sure, Ile well requite thy kindnesse.
For that it made my imprisonment, a pleasure:
I, such a pleasure, as incaged Birds
Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts,
At last, by Notes of Houshold harmonie,
They quite forget their losse of Libertie.
But Warwicke, after God, thou set'st me free,
And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee,
He was the Author, thou the Instrument.
Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight,
By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this blessed Land
May not be punisht with my thwarting starres,
Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne,
I here resigne my Gouernment to thee,
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds

Warw. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous,
And now may seeme as wise as vertuous,
By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice,
For few men rightly temper with the Starres:
Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace,
For chusing me, when Clarence is in place

Clar. No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the sway,
To whom the Heau'ns in thy Natiuitie,
Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne,
As likely to be blest in Peace and Warre:
And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent

Warw. And I chuse Clarence onely for Protector

King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands:
Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts,
That no dissention hinder Gouernment:
I make you both Protectors of this Land,
While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life,
And in deuotion spend my latter dayes,
To sinnes rebuke, and my Creators prayse

Warw. What answeres Clarence to his Soueraignes
Clar. That he consents, if Warwicke yeeld consent,
For on thy fortune I repose my selfe

Warw. Why then, though loth, yet must I be content:
Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadow
To Henries Body, and supply his place;
I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment,
While he enioyes the Honor, and his ease.
And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor,
And all his Lands and Goods confiscate

Clar. What else? and that Succession be determined

Warw. I, therein Clarence shall not want his part

King. But with the first, of all your chiefe affaires,
Let me entreat (for I command no more)
That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward,
Be sent for, to returne from France with speed:
For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare,
My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd

Clar. It shall bee done, my Soueraigne, with all

King. My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that,
Of whom you seeme to haue so tender care?
Somers. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Richmond

King. Come hither, Englands Hope:

Layes his Hand on his Head.

If secret Powers suggest but truth
To my diuining thoughts,
This prettie Lad will proue our Countries blisse.
His Lookes are full of peacefull Maiestie,
His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne,
His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfe
Likely in time to blesse a Regall Throne:
Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee
Must helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee.
Enter a Poste.

Warw. What newes, my friend?
Poste. That Edward is escaped from your Brother,
And fled (as hee heares since) to Burgundie

Warw. Vnsauorie newes: but how made he escape?
Poste. He was conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloster,
And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
In secret ambush, on the Forrest side,
And from the Bishops Huntsmen rescu'd him:
For Hunting was his dayly Exercise

Warw. My Brother was too carelesse of his charge.
But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouide
A salue for any sore, that may betide.


Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.

Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards:
For doubtlesse, Burgundie will yeeld him helpe,
And we shall haue more Warres befor't be long.
As Henries late presaging Prophecie
Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond:
So doth my heart mis-giue me, in these Conflicts,
What may befall him, to his harme and ours.
Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst,
Forthwith wee'le send him hence to Brittanie,
Till stormes be past of Ciuill Enmitie

Oxf. I: for if Edward re-possesse the Crowne,
'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall downe

Som. It shall be so: he shall to Brittanie.
Come therefore, let's about it speedily.


Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Souldiers.

Edw. Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends,
And sayes, that once more I shall enterchange
My wained state, for Henries Regall Crowne.
Well haue we pass'd, and now re-pass'd the Seas,
And brought desired helpe from Burgundie.
What then remaines, we being thus arriu'd
From Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke,
But that we enter, as into our Dukedome?
Rich. The Gates made fast?
Brother, I like not this.
For many men that stumble at the Threshold,
Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within

Edw. Tush man, aboadments must not now affright vs:
By faire or foule meanes we must enter in,
For hither will our friends repaire to vs

Hast. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to summon
Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke, and his Brethren.

Maior. My Lords,
We were fore-warned of your comming,
And shut the Gates, for safetie of our selues;
For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry

Edw. But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King,
Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of Yorke

Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for no

Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome,
As being well content with that alone

Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose,
Hee'le soone finde meanes to make the Body follow

Hast. Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt?
Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends

Maior. I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.

He descends.

Rich. A wise stout Captaine, and soone perswaded

Hast. The good old man would faine that all were wel,
So 'twere not long of him: but being entred,
I doubt not I, but we shall soone perswade
Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason.
Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.

Edw. So, Master Maior: these Gates must not be shut,
But in the Night, or in the time of Warre.
What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,

Takes his Keyes.

For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee,
And all those friends, that deine to follow mee.

March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme and Souldiers.

Rich. Brother, this is Sir Iohn Mountgomerie,
Our trustie friend, vnlesse I be deceiu'd

Edw. Welcome Sir Iohn: but why come you in
Mount. To helpe King Edward in his time of storme,
As euery loyall Subiect ought to doe

Edw. Thankes good Mountgomerie:
But we now forget our Title to the Crowne,
And onely clayme our Dukedome,
Till God please to send the rest

Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe,
I came to serue a King, and not a Duke:
Drummer strike vp, and let vs march away.

The Drumme begins to march.

Edw. Nay stay, Sir Iohn, a while, and wee'le debate
By what safe meanes the Crowne may be recouer'd

Mount. What talke you of debating? in few words,
If you'le not here proclaime your selfe our King,
Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be gone,
To keepe them back, that come to succour you.
Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title?
Rich. Why Brother, wherefore stand you on nice
Edw. When wee grow stronger,
Then wee'le make our Clayme:
Till then, 'tis wisdome to conceale our meaning

Hast. Away with scrupulous Wit, now Armes must

Rich. And fearelesse minds clyme soonest vnto Crowns.
Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand,
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends

Edw. Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right,
And Henry but vsurpes the Diademe

Mount. I, now my Soueraigne speaketh like himselfe,
And now will I be Edwards Champion

Hast. Sound Trumpet, Edward shal be here proclaim'd:
Come, fellow Souldior, make thou proclamation.

Flourish. Sound.

Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of
England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c

Mount. And whosoe're gainsayes King Edwards right,
By this I challenge him to single fight.

Throwes downe his Gauntlet.

All. Long liue Edward the Fourth

Edw. Thankes braue Mountgomery,
And thankes vnto you all:
If fortune serue me, Ile requite this kindnesse.
Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Yorke:
And when the Morning Sunne shall rayse his Carre
Aboue the Border of this Horizon,
Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates;
For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier.
Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beseemes thee,
To flatter Henry, and forsake thy Brother?
Yet as wee may, wee'le meet both thee and Warwicke.
Come on braue Souldiors: doubt not of the Day,
And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay.


Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague, Clarence,
Oxford, and

War. What counsaile, Lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hastie Germanes, and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pass'd in safetie through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troupes doth march amaine to London,
And many giddie people flock to him

King. Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe

Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which being suffer'd, Riuers cannot quench

War. In Warwickshire I haue true-hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre,
Those will I muster vp: and thou Sonne Clarence
Shalt stirre vp in Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent,
The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee.
Thou Brother Mountague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find
Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st.
And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well belou'd,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster vp thy friends.
My Soueraigne, with the louing Citizens,
Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean,
Or modest Dyan, circled with her Nymphs,
Shall rest in London, till we come to him:
Faire Lords take leaue, and stand not to reply.
Farewell my Soueraigne

King. Farewell my Hector, and my Troyes true hope

Clar. In signe of truth, I kisse your Highnesse Hand

King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate

Mount. Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leaue

Oxf. And thus I seale my truth, and bid adieu

King. Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewell

War. Farewell, sweet Lords, let's meet at Couentry.


King. Here at the Pallace will I rest a while.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinkes your Lordship?
Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field,
Should not be able to encounter mine

Exet. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest

King. That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame:
I haue not stopt mine eares to their demands,
Nor posted off their suites with slow delayes,
My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds,
My mildnesse hath allay'd their swelling griefes,
My mercie dry'd their water-flowing teares.
I haue not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much opprest them with great Subsidies,
Nor forward of reuenge, though they much err'd.
Then why should they loue Edward more then me?
No Exeter, these Graces challenge Grace:
And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe,
The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.

Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.

Exet. Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are
Enter Edward and his Souldiers.

Edw. Seize on the shamefac'd Henry, beare him hence,
And once againe proclaime vs King of England.
You are the Fount, that makes small Brookes to flow,
Now stops thy Spring, my Sea shall suck them dry,
And swell so much the higher, by their ebbe.
Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.

Exit with King Henry.

And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course,
Where peremptorie Warwicke now remaines:
The Sunne shines hot, and if we vse delay,
Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd-for Hay

Rich. Away betimes, before his forces ioyne,
And take the great-growne Traytor vnawares:
Braue Warriors, march amaine towards Couentry.


Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two Messengers, and
others vpon the

War. Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford?
How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow?
Mess .1. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward

War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague?
Where is the Post that came from Mountague?
Mess. 2. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troope.
Enter Someruile.

War. Say Someruile, what sayes my louing Sonne?
And by thy guesse, how nigh is Clarence now?
Someru. At Southam I did leaue him with his forces,
And doe expect him here some two howres hence

War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme

Someru. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes:
The Drum your Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke

War. Who should that be? belike vnlook'd for friends

Someru. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, and Souldiers.

Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle

Rich. See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall

War. Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come?
Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd,
That we could heare no newes of his repayre

Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates,
Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee,
Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy,
And he shall pardon thee these Outrages?
War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confesse who set thee vp, and pluckt thee downe,
Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke

Rich. I thought at least he would haue said the King,
Or did he make the Ieast against his will?
War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift?
Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue,
Ile doe thee seruice for so good a gift

War. 'Twas I that gaue the Kingdome to thy Brother

Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift

War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe,
And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subiect

Edw. But Warwickes King is Edwards Prisoner:
And gallant Warwicke, doe but answer this,
What is the Body, when the Head is off?
Rich. Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore-cast,
But whiles he thought to steale the single Ten,
The King was slyly finger'd from the Deck:
You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace,
And tenne to one you'le meet him in the Tower

Edw. 'Tis euen so, yet you are Warwicke still

Rich. Come Warwicke,
Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe:
Nay when? strike now, or else the Iron cooles

War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
And with the other, fling it at thy face,
Then beare so low a sayle, to strike to thee

Edw. Sayle how thou canst,
Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend,
This Hand, fast wound about thy coale-black hayre,
Shall, whiles thy Head is warme, and new cut off,
Write in the dust this Sentence with thy blood,
Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more.
Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.

War. Oh chearefull Colours, see where Oxford comes

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster

Rich. The Gates are open, let vs enter too

Edw. So other foes may set vpon our backs.
Stand we in good array: for they no doubt
Will issue out againe, and bid vs battaile;
If not, the Citie being but of small defence,
Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors in the same

War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe.
Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.

Mount. Mountague, Mountague, for Lancaster

Rich. Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason
Euen with the dearest blood your bodies beare

Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Victorie,
My minde presageth happy gaine, and Conquest.
Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.

Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster

Rich. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Haue sold their Liues vnto the House of Yorke,
And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold.
Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.

War. And loe, where George of Clarence sweepes along,
Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile:
With whom, in vpright zeale to right, preuailes
More then the nature of a Brothers Loue.
Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call

Clar. Father of Warwicke, know you what this meanes?
Looke here, I throw my infamie at thee:
I will not ruinate my Fathers House,
Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together,
And set vp Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwicke,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, vnnaturall,
To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre
Against his Brother, and his lawfull King.
Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath:
To keepe that Oath, were more impietie,
Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter.
I am so sorry for my Trespas made,
That to deserue well at my Brothers hands,
I here proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe:
With resolution, wheresoe're I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stirre abroad)
To plague thee, for thy foule mis-leading me.
And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee,
And to my Brother turne my blushing Cheekes.
Pardon me Edward, I will make amends:
And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more vnconstant

Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd,
Then if thou neuer hadst deseru'd our hate

Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like

Warw. Oh passing Traytor, periur'd and vniust

Edw. What Warwicke,
Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight?
Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?
Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st

Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way:
Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie.


March. Warwicke and his companie followes.

Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwicke

Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare,
For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all.
Now Mountague sit fast, I seeke for thee,
That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie.

Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe,
And tell me who is Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke?
Why aske I that? my mangled body shewes,
My blood, my want of strength, my sicke heart shewes,
That I must yeeld my body to the Earth,
And by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,
Whose Armes gaue shelter to the Princely Eagle,
Vnder whose shade the ramping Lyon slept,
Whose top-branch ouer-peer'd Ioues spreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde.
These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle,
Haue beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne,
To search the secret Treasons of the World:
The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood,
Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers:
For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue?
And who durst smile, when Warwicke bent his Brow?
Loe, now my Glory smear'd in dust and blood.
My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had,
Euen now forsake me; and of all my Lands,
Is nothing left me, but my bodies length.
Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust?
And liue we how we can, yet dye we must.
Enter Oxford and Somerset.

Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are,
We might recouer all our Losse againe:
The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power.
Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye

Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.
Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou did'st,
Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood,
That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake.
Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead

Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last,
And to the latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke:
And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother.
And more he would haue said, and more he spoke,
Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault,
That mought not be distinguisht: but at last,
I well might heare, deliuered with a groane,
Oh farewell Warwicke

Warw. Sweet rest his Soule:
Flye Lords, and saue your selues,
For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen

Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence,
and the

King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie:
But in the midst of this bright-shining Day,
I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious Sunne,
Ere he attaine his easefull Westerne Bed:
I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene
Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast,
And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs

Clar. A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud,
And blow it to the Source from whence it came,
Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp,
For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme

Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her:
If she haue time to breathe, be well assur'd
Her faction will be full as strong as ours

King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends,
That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury.
We hauing now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way,
And as we march, our strength will be augmented:
In euery Countie as we goe along,
Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.


Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young Edward, Somerset,
Oxford, and

Qu. Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse,
But chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes.
What though the Mast be now blowne ouer-boord,
The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost,
And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood?
Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee
Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad,
With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea,
And giue more strength to that which hath too much,
Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock,
Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd?
Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this.
Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that?
And Mountague our Top-Mast: what of him?
Our slaught'red friends, the Tackles: what of these?
Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor?
And Somerset, another goodly Mast?
The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
And though vnskilfull, why not Ned and I,
For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge?
We will not from the Helme, to sit and weepe,
But keepe our Course (though the rough Winde say no)
From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack.
As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire.
And what is Edward, but a ruthlesse Sea?
What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke?
All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke.
Say you can swim, alas 'tis but a while:
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke,
Bestride the Rock, the Tyde will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death.
This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderstand,
If case some one of you would flye from vs,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More then with ruthlesse Waues, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be auoided,
'Twere childish weakenesse to lament, or feare

Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit,
Should, if a Coward heard her speake these words,
Infuse his Breast with Magnanimitie,
And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes.
I speake not this, as doubting any here:
For did I but suspect a fearefull man,
He should haue leaue to goe away betimes,
Least in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like spirit to himselfe.
If any such be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart, before we neede his helpe

Oxf. Women and Children of so high a courage,
And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame.
Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather
Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue,
To beare his Image, and renew his Glories

Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope,
Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at

Qu. Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes

Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand,
Readie to fight: therefore be resolute

Oxf. I thought no lesse: it is his Policie,
To haste thus fast, to finde vs vnprouided

Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse

Qu. This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse

Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.

Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and

Edw. Braue followers, yonder stands the thornie Wood,
Which by the Heauens assistance, and your strength,
Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp yet ere Night.
I need not adde more fuell to your fire,
For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out:
Giue signall to the fight, and to it Lords

Qu. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say,
My teares gaine-say: for euery word I speake,
Ye see I drinke the water of my eye.
Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne
Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State vsurp'd,
His Realme a slaughter-house, his Subiects slaine,
His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent:
And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle.
You fight in Iustice: then in Gods Name, Lords,
Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence, Oxford,

Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles.
Away with Oxford, to Hames Castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head.
Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake

Oxf. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words

Som. Nor I, but stoupe with patience to my fortune.


Qu. So part we sadly in this troublous World,
To meet with Ioy in sweet Ierusalem

Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward,
Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life?
Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes.
Enter the Prince.

Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake.
What? can so young a Thorne begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince. Speake like a Subiect, prowd ambitious Yorke.
Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth,
Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou,
Whil'st I propose the selfe-same words to thee,
Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me answer to

Qu. Ah, that thy Father had beene so resolu'd

Rich. That you might still haue worne the Petticoat,
And ne're haue stolne the Breech from Lancaster

Prince. Let Aesop fable in a Winters Night,
His Currish Riddles sorts not with this place

Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word

Qu. I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men

Rich. For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crooke-backe,

Edw. Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your tongue

Clar. Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert

Prince. I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull:
Lasciuious Edward, and thou periur'd George,
And thou mis-shapen Dicke, I tell ye all,
I am your better, Traytors as ye are,
And thou vsurp'st my Fathers right and mine

Edw. Take that, the likenesse of this Rayler here.

Stabs him.

Rich. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agonie.

Rich[ard]. stabs him.

Clar. And ther's for twitting me with periurie.

Clar[ence]. stabs him.

Qu. Oh, kill me too

Rich. Marry, and shall.

Offers to kill her.

Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much

Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with

Edw. What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her

Rich. Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother:
Ile hence to London on a serious matter,
Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes

Cla. What? what?
Rich. Tower, the Tower.

Qu. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy.
Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers!
They that stabb'd Csar, shed no blood at all:
Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
If this foule deed were by, to equall it.
He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe,
And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe.
What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake,
And I will speake, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes,
How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:
You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,
The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse,
But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,
Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off.
As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince

King. Away with her, go beare her hence perforce

Qu. Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere:
Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:
What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou

Cla. By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease

Qu. Good Clarence do: sweet Clarence do thou do it

Cla. Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?
Qu. I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe.
'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity
What wilt y not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard?
Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed:
Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe

Ed. Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence,
Qu. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.

Exit Queene.

Ed. Where's Richard gone

Cla. To London all in post, and as I guesse,
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower

Ed. He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence, discharge the common sort
With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,
And see our gentle Queene how well she fares,
By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.

Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant on the

Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so
Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather,
Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better:
'Good Gloster, and good Deuill, were alike,
And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord

Rich. Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre

Hen. So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from y Wolfe:
So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece,
And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.
What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte?
Rich. Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde,
The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer,
Hen. The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush;
And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird,
Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,
Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd

Rich. Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet,
That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,
And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd

Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus,
Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course,
The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy.
Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea
Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life:
Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,
My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point,
Then can my eares that Tragicke History.
But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?
Rich. Think'st thou I am an Executioner?
Hen. A Persecutor I am sure thou art,
If murthering Innocents be Executing,
Why then thou art an Executioner

Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption

Hen. Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first y didst presume,
Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:
And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare,
And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,
And many an Orphans water-standing-eye,
Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,
Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,
Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.
The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe,
The Night-Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time,
Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempest shook down Trees:
The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,
And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung:
Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,
And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope,
To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree.
Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,
To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world:
And if the rest be true, which I haue heard,
Thou cam'st-
Rich. Ile heare no more:
Dye Prophet in thy speech,

Stabbes him.

For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd

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