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The Complete Moby Shakespeare: CONTENTS
-------------------------------------------
(In approximate chronological order of composition within each group.)


Histories
---------
2 Henry VI
3 Henry VI
1 Henry VI
Richard III
Venus and Adonis
The Rape of Lucrece
Richard II
King John
1 Henry IV
2 Henry IV
Henry V
Sonnets and 'A Lover's Complaint'
Various Poems
Henry VIII

Comedies
--------
The Two Gentlemen of Verona
The Taming of the Shrew
The Comedy of Errors
Love's Labour's Lost
A Midsummer Night's Dream
The Merchant of Venice
The Merry Wives of Windsor
Much Ado About Nothing
As You Like It
Twelfth Night
Troilus and Cressida
Measure for Measure
All's Well That Ends Well
Pericles Prince of Tyre
The Winter's Tale
Cymbeline
The Tempest

Tragedies
---------
Titus Andronicus
Romeo and Juliet
Julius Caesar
Hamlet
Othello
Timon of Athens
King Lear
Macbeth
Antony and Cleopatra
Coriolanus

Glossary
--------




The Complete Shakespeare: HISTORIES
-----------------------------------




	2 KING HENRY VI


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING HENRY
the Sixth	(KING HENRY VI:)

HUMPHREY	Duke of Gloucester, his uncle. (GLOUCESTER:)

CARDINAL BEAUFORT	Bishop of Winchester, great-uncle to the King.
	(CARDINAL:)

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Duke of York. (YORK:)


EDWARD	|
	|  his sons
RICHARD	|


DUKE OF SOMERSET	(SOMERSET:)

DUKE OF SUFFOLK	(SUFFOLK:)

DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM	(BUCKINGHAM:)

LORD CLIFFORD	(CLIFFORD:)

YOUNG CLIFFORD	his son.

EARL OF SALISBURY	(SALISBURY:)

EARL OF WARWICK	(WARWICK:)

LORD SCALES	(SCALES:)

LORD SAY	(SAY:)

SIR HUMPHREY
STAFFORD	(SIR HUMPHREY:)

WILLIAM STAFFORD	Sir Humphrey Stafford's brother.

SIR JOHN STANLEY	(STANLEY:)

VAUX:

MATTHEW GOFFE:

	A Sea-captain, (Captain:)  Master, and Master's-Mate.

WALTER WHITMORE:

	Two Gentlemen, prisoners with Suffolk.
	(First Gentleman:)
	(Second Gentleman:)


JOHN HUME (HUME:)	|
	|  priests.
JOHN SOUTHWELL	|


BOLINGBROKE	a conjurer.

THOMAS HORNER	an armourer. (HORNER:)

PETER	Thomas Horner's man.

	Clerk of Chatham. (Clerk:)

	Mayor of Saint Alban's. (Mayor:)

SIMPCOX	an impostor.

ALEXANDER IDEN	a Kentish gentleman. (IDEN:)

JACK CADE	a rebel. (CADE:)


GEORGE BEVIS	(BEVIS:)	|
		|
JOHN HOLLAND	(HOLLAND:)	|
		|
DICK the butcher	(DICK:)	|
		|  followers of Cade.
SMITH the weaver	(SMITH:)	|
		|
MICHAEL	(MICHAEL:)	|
		|
&c.		|


	Two Murderers
	(First Murderer:)
	(Second Murderer:)

QUEEN MARGARET	Queen to King Henry.

ELEANOR	Duchess of Gloucester. (DUCHESS:)

MARGARET JOURDAIN	a witch.

	Wife to Simpcox  (Wife:)

	Lords, Ladies, and Attendants. Petitioners,
	Aldermen, a Herald, a Beadle, Sheriff, and
	Officers, Citizens, 'Prentices, Falconers,
	Guards, Soldiers, Messengers, &c.
	(First Neighbour:)
	(Second Neighbour:)
	(Third Neighbour:)
	(First Petitioner:)
	(Second Petitioner:)
	(Herald:)
	(Beadle:)
	(Sheriff:)
	(Servant:)
	(Soldier:)
	(Townsman:)
	(First 'Prentice:)
	(Second 'Prentice:)
	(Post:)
	(Messenger:)

	A Spirit. (Spirit:)



SCENE	England.




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE I	London. The palace.


	[Flourish of trumpets: then hautboys. Enter KING
	HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and
	CARDINAL, on the one side; QUEEN MARGARET, SUFFOLK,
	YORK, SOMERSET, and BUCKINGHAM, on the other]

SUFFOLK	As by your high imperial majesty
	I had in charge at my depart for France,
	As procurator to your excellence,
	To marry Princess Margaret for your grace,
	So, in the famous ancient city, Tours,
	In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil,
	The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne and Alencon,
	Seven earls, twelve barons and twenty reverend bishops,
	I have perform'd my task and was espoused:
	And humbly now upon my bended knee,
	In sight of England and her lordly peers,
	Deliver up my title in the queen
	To your most gracious hands, that are the substance
	Of that great shadow I did represent;
	The happiest gift that ever marquess gave,
	The fairest queen that ever king received.

KING HENRY VI	Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret:
	I can express no kinder sign of love
	Than this kind kiss. O Lord, that lends me life,
	Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
	For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
	A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
	If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

QUEEN MARGARET	Great King of England and my gracious lord,
	The mutual conference that my mind hath had,
	By day, by night, waking and in my dreams,
	In courtly company or at my beads,
	With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign,
	Makes me the bolder to salute my king
	With ruder terms, such as my wit affords
	And over-joy of heart doth minister.

KING HENRY VI	Her sight did ravish; but her grace in speech,
	Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
	Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys;
	Such is the fulness of my heart's content.
	Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love.

ALL	[Kneeling]  Long live Queen Margaret, England's
	happiness!

QUEEN MARGARET	We thank you all.

	[Flourish]

SUFFOLK	My lord protector, so it please your grace,
	Here are the articles of contracted peace
	Between our sovereign and the French king Charles,
	For eighteen months concluded by consent.

GLOUCESTER	[Reads]  'Imprimis, it is agreed between the French
	king Charles, and William de la Pole, Marquess of
	Suffolk, ambassador for Henry King of England, that
	the said Henry shall espouse the Lady Margaret,
	daughter unto Reignier King of Naples, Sicilia and
	Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England ere the
	thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item, that the duchy
	of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released
	and delivered to the king her father'--

	[Lets the paper fall]

KING HENRY VI	Uncle, how now!

GLOUCESTER	       Pardon me, gracious lord;
	Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart
	And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further.

KING HENRY VI	Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on.

CARDINAL	[Reads]  'Item, It is further agreed between them,
	that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be
	released and delivered over to the king her father,
	and she sent over of the King of England's own
	proper cost and charges, without having any dowry.'

KING HENRY VI	They please us well. Lord marquess, kneel down:
	We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk,
	And gird thee with the sword. Cousin of York,
	We here discharge your grace from being regent
	I' the parts of France, till term of eighteen months
	Be full expired. Thanks, uncle Winchester,
	Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset,
	Salisbury, and Warwick;
	We thank you all for the great favour done,
	In entertainment to my princely queen.
	Come, let us in, and with all speed provide
	To see her coronation be perform'd.

	[Exeunt KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET, and SUFFOLK]

GLOUCESTER	Brave peers of England, pillars of the state,
	To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief,
	Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
	What! did my brother Henry spend his youth,
	His valour, coin and people, in the wars?
	Did he so often lodge in open field,
	In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
	To conquer France, his true inheritance?
	And did my brother Bedford toil his wits,
	To keep by policy what Henry got?
	Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
	Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,
	Received deep scars in France and Normandy?
	Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself,
	With all the learned council of the realm,
	Studied so long, sat in the council-house
	Early and late, debating to and fro
	How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe,
	And had his highness in his infancy
	Crowned in Paris in despite of foes?
	And shall these labours and these honours die?
	Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,
	Your deeds of war and all our counsel die?
	O peers of England, shameful is this league!
	Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame,
	Blotting your names from books of memory,
	Razing the characters of your renown,
	Defacing monuments of conquer'd France,
	Undoing all, as all had never been!

CARDINAL	Nephew, what means this passionate discourse,
	This peroration with such circumstance?
	For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still.

GLOUCESTER	Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can;
	But now it is impossible we should:
	Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast,
	Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine
	Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style
	Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.

SALISBURY	Now, by the death of Him that died for all,
	These counties were the keys of Normandy.
	But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?

WARWICK	For grief that they are past recovery:
	For, were there hope to conquer them again,
	My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears.
	Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both;
	Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer:
	And are the cities, that I got with wounds,
	Delivered up again with peaceful words?
	Mort Dieu!

YORK	For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate,
	That dims the honour of this warlike isle!
	France should have torn and rent my very heart,
	Before I would have yielded to this league.
	I never read but England's kings have had
	Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives:
	And our King Henry gives away his own,
	To match with her that brings no vantages.

GLOUCESTER	A proper jest, and never heard before,
	That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth
	For costs and charges in transporting her!
	She should have stayed in France and starved
	in France, Before--

CARDINAL	My Lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot:
	It was the pleasure of my lord the King.

GLOUCESTER	My Lord of Winchester, I know your mind;
	'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike,
	But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye.
	Rancour will out: proud prelate, in thy face
	I see thy fury: if I longer stay,
	We shall begin our ancient bickerings.
	Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone,
	I prophesied France will be lost ere long.

	[Exit]

CARDINAL	So, there goes our protector in a rage.
	'Tis known to you he is mine enemy,
	Nay, more, an enemy unto you all,
	And no great friend, I fear me, to the king.
	Consider, lords, he is the next of blood,
	And heir apparent to the English crown:
	Had Henry got an empire by his marriage,
	And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west,
	There's reason he should be displeased at it.
	Look to it, lords! let not his smoothing words
	Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect.
	What though the common people favour him,
	Calling him 'Humphrey, the good Duke of
	Gloucester,'
	Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice,
	'Jesu maintain your royal excellence!'
	With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!'
	I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
	He will be found a dangerous protector.

BUCKINGHAM	Why should he, then, protect our sovereign,
	He being of age to govern of himself?
	Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
	And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk,
	We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat.

CARDINAL	This weighty business will not brook delay:
	I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently.

	[Exit]

SOMERSET	Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride
	And greatness of his place be grief to us,
	Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal:
	His insolence is more intolerable
	Than all the princes in the land beside:
	If Gloucester be displaced, he'll be protector.

BUCKINGHAM	Or thou or I, Somerset, will be protector,
	Despite Duke Humphrey or the cardinal.

	[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET]

SALISBURY	Pride went before, ambition follows him.
	While these do labour for their own preferment,
	Behoves it us to labour for the realm.
	I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester
	Did bear him like a noble gentleman.
	Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal,
	More like a soldier than a man o' the church,
	As stout and proud as he were lord of all,
	Swear like a ruffian and demean himself
	Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.
	Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age,
	Thy deeds, thy plainness and thy housekeeping,
	Hath won the greatest favour of the commons,
	Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey:
	And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland,
	In bringing them to civil discipline,
	Thy late exploits done in the heart of France,
	When thou wert regent for our sovereign,
	Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people:
	Join we together, for the public good,
	In what we can, to bridle and suppress
	The pride of Suffolk and the cardinal,
	With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition;
	And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds,
	While they do tend the profit of the land.

WARWICK	So God help Warwick, as he loves the land,
	And common profit of his country!

YORK	[Aside]  And so says York, for he hath greatest cause.

SALISBURY	Then let's make haste away, and look unto the main.

WARWICK	Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost;
	That Maine which by main force Warwick did win,
	And would have kept so long as breath did last!
	Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine,
	Which I will win from France, or else be slain,

	[Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY]

YORK	Anjou and Maine are given to the French;
	Paris is lost; the state of Normandy
	Stands on a tickle point, now they are gone:
	Suffolk concluded on the articles,
	The peers agreed, and Henry was well pleased
	To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter.
	I cannot blame them all: what is't to them?
	'Tis thine they give away, and not their own.
	Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage
	And purchase friends and give to courtezans,
	Still revelling like lords till all be gone;
	While as the silly owner of the goods
	Weeps over them and wrings his hapless hands
	And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof,
	While all is shared and all is borne away,
	Ready to starve and dare not touch his own:
	So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue,
	While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold.
	Methinks the realms of England, France and Ireland
	Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood
	As did the fatal brand Althaea burn'd
	Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.
	Anjou and Maine both given unto the French!
	Cold news for me, for I had hope of France,
	Even as I have of fertile England's soil.
	A day will come when York shall claim his own;
	And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts
	And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey,
	And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown,
	For that's the golden mark I seek to hit:
	Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
	Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist,
	Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
	Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown.
	Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve:
	Watch thou and wake when others be asleep,
	To pry into the secrets of the state;
	Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love,
	With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen,
	And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars:
	Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
	With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfumed;
	And in my standard bear the arms of York
	To grapple with the house of Lancaster;
	And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown,
	Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down.

	[Exit]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE II	GLOUCESTER'S house.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER and his DUCHESS]

DUCHESS	Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn,
	Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?
	Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows,
	As frowning at the favours of the world?
	Why are thine eyes fixed to the sullen earth,
	Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?
	What seest thou there? King Henry's diadem,
	Enchased with all the honours of the world?
	If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,
	Until thy head be circled with the same.
	Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
	What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine:
	And, having both together heaved it up,
	We'll both together lift our heads to heaven,
	And never more abase our sight so low
	As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.

GLOUCESTER	O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,
	Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts.
	And may that thought, when I imagine ill
	Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,
	Be my last breathing in this mortal world!
	My troublous dream this night doth make me sad.

DUCHESS	What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it
	With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.

GLOUCESTER	Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court,
	Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot,
	But, as I think, it was by the cardinal;
	And on the pieces of the broken wand
	Were placed the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset,
	And William de la Pole, first duke of Suffolk.
	This was my dream: what it doth bode, God knows.

DUCHESS	Tut, this was nothing but an argument
	That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove
	Shall lose his head for his presumption.
	But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke:
	Methought I sat in seat of majesty
	In the cathedral church of Westminster,
	And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd;
	Where Henry and dame Margaret kneel'd to me
	And on my head did set the diadem.

GLOUCESTER	Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright:
	Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtured Eleanor,
	Art thou not second woman in the realm,
	And the protector's wife, beloved of him?
	Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command,
	Above the reach or compass of thy thought?
	And wilt thou still be hammering treachery,
	To tumble down thy husband and thyself
	From top of honour to disgrace's feet?
	Away from me, and let me hear no more!

DUCHESS	What, what, my lord! are you so choleric
	With Eleanor, for telling but her dream?
	Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself,
	And not be cheque'd.

GLOUCESTER	Nay, be not angry; I am pleased again.

	[Enter Messenger]

Messenger	My lord protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure
	You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's,
	Where as the king and queen do mean to hawk.

GLOUCESTER	I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?

DUCHESS	Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently.

	[Exeunt GLOUCESTER and Messenger]

	Follow I must; I cannot go before,
	While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind.
	Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
	I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks
	And smooth my way upon their headless necks;
	And, being a woman, I will not be slack
	To play my part in Fortune's pageant.
	Where are you there? Sir John! nay, fear not, man,
	We are alone; here's none but thee and I.

	[Enter HUME]

HUME	Jesus preserve your royal majesty!

DUCHESS	What say'st thou? majesty! I am but grace.

HUME	But, by the grace of God, and Hume's advice,
	Your grace's title shall be multiplied.

DUCHESS	What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd
	With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch,
	With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
	And will they undertake to do me good?

HUME	This they have promised, to show your highness
	A spirit raised from depth of under-ground,
	That shall make answer to such questions
	As by your grace shall be propounded him.

DUCHESS	It is enough; I'll think upon the questions:
	When from St. Alban's we do make return,
	We'll see these things effected to the full.
	Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
	With thy confederates in this weighty cause.

	[Exit]

HUME	Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold;
	Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume!
	Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum:
	The business asketh silent secrecy.
	Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch:
	Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil.
	Yet have I gold flies from another coast;
	I dare not say, from the rich cardinal
	And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk,
	Yet I do find it so; for to be plain,
	They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour,
	Have hired me to undermine the duchess
	And buz these conjurations in her brain.
	They say 'A crafty knave does need no broker;'
	Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker.
	Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
	To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.
	Well, so it stands; and thus, I fear, at last
	Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wreck,
	And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall:
	Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.

	[Exit]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE III	The palace.


	[Enter three or four Petitioners, PETER, the
	Armourer's man, being one]

First Petitioner	My masters, let's stand close: my lord protector
	will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver
	our supplications in the quill.

Second Petitioner	Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good man!
	Jesu bless him!

	[Enter SUFFOLK and QUEEN MARGARET]

PETER	Here a' comes, methinks, and the queen with him.
	I'll be the first, sure.

Second Petitioner	Come back, fool; this is the Duke of Suffolk, and
	not my lord protector.

SUFFOLK	How now, fellow! would'st anything with me?

First Petitioner	I pray, my lord, pardon me; I took ye for my lord
	protector.

QUEEN MARGARET	[Reading]  'To my Lord Protector!' Are your
	supplications to his lordship? Let me see them:
	what is thine?

First Petitioner	Mine is, an't please your grace, against John
	Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping my
	house, and lands, and wife and all, from me.

SUFFOLK	Thy wife, too! that's some wrong, indeed. What's
	yours? What's here!

	[Reads]

	'Against the Duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the
	commons of Melford.' How now, sir knave!

Second Petitioner	Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township.

PETER	[Giving his petition]  Against my master, Thomas
	Horner, for saying that the Duke of York was rightful
	heir to the crown.

QUEEN MARGARET	What sayst thou? did the Duke of York say he was
	rightful heir to the crown?

PETER	That my master was? no, forsooth: my master said
	that he was, and that the king was an usurper.

SUFFOLK	Who is there?

	[Enter Servant]

	Take this fellow in, and send for
	his master with a pursuivant presently: we'll hear
	more of your matter before the King.

	[Exit Servant with PETER]

QUEEN MARGARET	And as for you, that love to be protected
	Under the wings of our protector's grace,
	Begin your suits anew, and sue to him.

	[Tears the supplication]

	Away, base cullions! Suffolk, let them go.

ALL	Come, let's be gone.

	[Exeunt]

QUEEN MARGARET	My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise,
	Is this the fashion in the court of England?
	Is this the government of Britain's isle,
	And this the royalty of Albion's king?
	What shall King Henry be a pupil still
	Under the surly Gloucester's governance?
	Am I a queen in title and in style,
	And must be made a subject to a duke?
	I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours
	Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love
	And stolest away the ladies' hearts of France,
	I thought King Henry had resembled thee
	In courage, courtship and proportion:
	But all his mind is bent to holiness,
	To number Ave-Maries on his beads;
	His champions are the prophets and apostles,
	His weapons holy saws of sacred writ,
	His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves
	Are brazen images of canonized saints.
	I would the college of the cardinals
	Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome,
	And set the triple crown upon his head:
	That were a state fit for his holiness.

SUFFOLK	Madam, be patient: as I was cause
	Your highness came to England, so will I
	In England work your grace's full content.

QUEEN MARGARET	Beside the haughty protector, have we Beaufort,
	The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham,
	And grumbling York: and not the least of these
	But can do more in England than the king.

SUFFOLK	And he of these that can do most of all
	Cannot do more in England than the Nevils:
	Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.

QUEEN MARGARET	Not all these lords do vex me half so much
	As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife.
	She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies,
	More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife:
	Strangers in court do take her for the queen:
	She bears a duke's revenues on her back,
	And in her heart she scorns our poverty:
	Shall I not live to be avenged on her?
	Contemptuous base-born callet as she is,
	She vaunted 'mongst her minions t'other day,
	The very train of her worst wearing gown
	Was better worth than all my father's lands,
	Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter.

SUFFOLK	Madam, myself have limed a bush for her,
	And placed a quire of such enticing birds,
	That she will light to listen to the lays,
	And never mount to trouble you again.
	So, let her rest: and, madam, list to me;
	For I am bold to counsel you in this.
	Although we fancy not the cardinal,
	Yet must we join with him and with the lords,
	Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace.
	As for the Duke of York, this late complaint
	Will make but little for his benefit.
	So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last,
	And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.

	[Sound a sennet. Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER,
	CARDINAL, BUCKINGHAM, YORK, SOMERSET, SALISBURY,
	WARWICK, and the DUCHESS]

KING HENRY VI	For my part, noble lords, I care not which;
	Or Somerset or York, all's one to me.

YORK	If York have ill demean'd himself in France,
	Then let him be denay'd the regentship.

SOMERSET	If Somerset be unworthy of the place,
	Let York be regent; I will yield to him.

WARWICK	Whether your grace be worthy, yea or no,
	Dispute not that: York is the worthier.

CARDINAL	Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.

WARWICK	The cardinal's not my better in the field.

BUCKINGHAM	All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick.

WARWICK	Warwick may live to be the best of all.

SALISBURY	Peace, son! and show some reason, Buckingham,
	Why Somerset should be preferred in this.

QUEEN MARGARET	Because the king, forsooth, will have it so.

GLOUCESTER	Madam, the king is old enough himself
	To give his censure: these are no women's matters.

QUEEN MARGARET	If he be old enough, what needs your grace
	To be protector of his excellence?

GLOUCESTER	Madam, I am protector of the realm;
	And, at his pleasure, will resign my place.

SUFFOLK	Resign it then and leave thine insolence.
	Since thou wert king--as who is king but thou?--
	The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck;
	The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas;
	And all the peers and nobles of the realm
	Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.

CARDINAL	The commons hast thou rack'd; the clergy's bags
	Are lank and lean with thy extortions.

SOMERSET	Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire
	Have cost a mass of public treasury.

BUCKINGHAM	Thy cruelty in execution
	Upon offenders, hath exceeded law,
	And left thee to the mercy of the law.

QUEEN MARGARET	They sale of offices and towns in France,
	If they were known, as the suspect is great,
	Would make thee quickly hop without thy head.

	[Exit GLOUCESTER. QUEEN MARGARET drops her fan]

	Give me my fan: what, minion! can ye not?

	[She gives the DUCHESS a box on the ear]

	I cry you mercy, madam; was it you?

DUCHESS	Was't I! yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman:
	Could I come near your beauty with my nails,
	I'd set my ten commandments in your face.

KING HENRY VI	Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas against her will.

DUCHESS	Against her will! good king, look to't in time;
	She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby:
	Though in this place most master wear no breeches,
	She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unrevenged.

	[Exit]

BUCKINGHAM	Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor,
	And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds:
	She's tickled now; her fume needs no spurs,
	She'll gallop far enough to her destruction.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Now, lords, my choler being over-blown
	With walking once about the quadrangle,
	I come to talk of commonwealth affairs.
	As for your spiteful false objections,
	Prove them, and I lie open to the law:
	But God in mercy so deal with my soul,
	As I in duty love my king and country!
	But, to the matter that we have in hand:
	I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man
	To be your regent in the realm of France.

SUFFOLK	Before we make election, give me leave
	To show some reason, of no little force,
	That York is most unmeet of any man.

YORK	I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet:
	First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride;
	Next, if I be appointed for the place,
	My Lord of Somerset will keep me here,
	Without discharge, money, or furniture,
	Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands:
	Last time, I danced attendance on his will
	Till Paris was besieged, famish'd, and lost.

WARWICK	That can I witness; and a fouler fact
	Did never traitor in the land commit.

SUFFOLK	Peace, headstrong Warwick!

WARWICK	Image of pride, why should I hold my peace?

	[Enter HORNER, the Armourer, and his man
	PETER, guarded]

SUFFOLK	Because here is a man accused of treason:
	Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself!

YORK	Doth any one accuse York for a traitor?

KING HENRY VI	What mean'st thou, Suffolk; tell me, what are these?

SUFFOLK	Please it your majesty, this is the man
	That doth accuse his master of high treason:
	His words were these: that Richard, Duke of York,
	Was rightful heir unto the English crown
	And that your majesty was a usurper.

KING HENRY VI	Say, man, were these thy words?

HORNER	An't shall please your majesty, I never said nor
	thought any such matter: God is my witness, I am
	falsely accused by the villain.

PETER	By these ten bones, my lords, he did speak them to
	me in the garret one night, as we were scouring my
	Lord of York's armour.

YORK	Base dunghill villain and mechanical,
	I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech.
	I do beseech your royal majesty,
	Let him have all the rigor of the law.

HORNER	Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the words.
	My accuser is my 'prentice; and when I did correct
	him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his
	knees he would be even with me: I have good
	witness of this: therefore I beseech your majesty,
	do not cast away an honest man for a villain's
	accusation.

KING HENRY VI	Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?

GLOUCESTER	This doom, my lord, if I may judge:
	Let Somerset be regent over the French,
	Because in York this breeds suspicion:
	And let these have a day appointed them
	For single combat in convenient place,
	For he hath witness of his servant's malice:
	This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's doom.

SOMERSET	I humbly thank your royal majesty.

HORNER	And I accept the combat willingly.

PETER	Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God's sake, pity
	my case. The spite of man prevaileth against me. O
	Lord, have mercy upon me! I shall never be able to
	fight a blow. O Lord, my heart!

GLOUCESTER	Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hang'd.

KING HENRY VI	Away with them to prison; and the day of combat
	shall be the last of the next month. Come,
	Somerset, we'll see thee sent away.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE IV	GLOUCESTER's garden.


	[Enter MARGARET JOURDAIN, HUME, SOUTHWELL, and
	BOLINGBROKE]

HUME	Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell you, expects
	performance of your promises.

BOLINGBROKE	Master Hume, we are therefore provided: will her
	ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?

HUME	Ay, what else? fear you not her courage.

BOLINGBROKE	I have heard her reported to be a woman of an
	invincible spirit: but it shall be convenient,
	Master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be
	busy below; and so, I pray you, go, in God's name,
	and leave us.

	[Exit HUME]

	Mother Jourdain, be you
	prostrate and grovel on the earth; John Southwell,
	read you; and let us to our work.

	[Enter the DUCHESS aloft, HUME following]

DUCHESS	Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this
	gear the sooner the better.

BOLINGBROKE	Patience, good lady; wizards know their times:
	Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
	The time of night when Troy was set on fire;
	The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl,
	And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves,
	That time best fits the work we have in hand.
	Madam, sit you and fear not: whom we raise,
	We will make fast within a hallow'd verge.

	[Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the
	circle; BOLINGBROKE or SOUTHWELL reads, Conjuro te,
	&c. It thunders and lightens terribly; then the
	Spirit riseth]

Spirit	Adsum.

MARGARET JOURDAIN	Asmath,
	By the eternal God, whose name and power
	Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask;
	For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence.

Spirit	Ask what thou wilt. That I had said and done!

BOLINGBROKE	'First of the king: what shall of him become?'

	[Reading out of a paper]

Spirit	The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose;
	But him outlive, and die a violent death.

	[As the Spirit speaks, SOUTHWELL writes the answer]

BOLINGBROKE	'What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?'

Spirit	By water shall he die, and take his end.

BOLINGBROKE	'What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?'

Spirit	Let him shun castles;
	Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
	Than where castles mounted stand.
	Have done, for more I hardly can endure.

BOLINGBROKE	Descend to darkness and the burning lake!
	False fiend, avoid!

	[Thunder and lightning. Exit Spirit]

	[Enter YORK and BUCKINGHAM with their Guard
	and break in]

YORK	Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash.
	Beldam, I think we watch'd you at an inch.
	What, madam, are you there? the king and commonweal
	Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains:
	My lord protector will, I doubt it not,
	See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.

DUCHESS	Not half so bad as thine to England's king,
	Injurious duke, that threatest where's no cause.

BUCKINGHAM	True, madam, none at all: what call you this?
	Away with them! let them be clapp'd up close.
	And kept asunder. You, madam, shall with us.
	Stafford, take her to thee.

	[Exeunt above DUCHESS and HUME, guarded]

	We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming.
	All, away!

	[Exeunt guard with MARGARET JOURDAIN, SOUTHWELL, &c]

YORK	Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well:
	A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon!
	Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.
	What have we here?

	[Reads]

	'The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose;
	But him outlive, and die a violent death.'
	Why, this is just
	'Aio te, AEacida, Romanos vincere posse.'
	Well, to the rest:
	'Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?
	By water shall he die, and take his end.
	What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?
	Let him shun castles;
	Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
	Than where castles mounted stand.'
	Come, come, my lords;
	These oracles are hardly attain'd,
	And hardly understood.
	The king is now in progress towards Saint Alban's,
	With him the husband of this lovely lady:
	Thither go these news, as fast as horse can
	carry them:
	A sorry breakfast for my lord protector.

BUCKINGHAM	Your grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York,
	To be the post, in hope of his reward.

YORK	At your pleasure, my good lord. Who's within
	there, ho!

	[Enter a Servingman]

	Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick
	To sup with me to-morrow night. Away!

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE I	Saint Alban's.


	[Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET, GLOUCESTER,
	CARDINAL, and SUFFOLK, with Falconers halloing]

QUEEN MARGARET	Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,
	I saw not better sport these seven years' day:
	Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high;
	And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.

KING HENRY VI	But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
	And what a pitch she flew above the rest!
	To see how God in all his creatures works!
	Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.

SUFFOLK	No marvel, an it like your majesty,
	My lord protector's hawks do tower so well;
	They know their master loves to be aloft,
	And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.

GLOUCESTER	My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind
	That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

CARDINAL	I thought as much; he would be above the clouds.

GLOUCESTER	Ay, my lord cardinal? how think you by that?
	Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven?

KING HENRY VI	The treasury of everlasting joy.

CARDINAL	Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts
	Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart;
	Pernicious protector, dangerous peer,
	That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal!

GLOUCESTER	What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory?
	Tantaene animis coelestibus irae?
	Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice;
	With such holiness can you do it?

SUFFOLK	No malice, sir; no more than well becomes
	So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.

GLOUCESTER	As who, my lord?

SUFFOLK	       Why, as you, my lord,
	An't like your lordly lord-protectorship.

GLOUCESTER	Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.

QUEEN MARGARET	And thy ambition, Gloucester.

KING HENRY VI	I prithee, peace, good queen,
	And whet not on these furious peers;
	For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.

CARDINAL	Let me be blessed for the peace I make,
	Against this proud protector, with my sword!

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CARDINAL]  Faith, holy uncle, would
	'twere come to that!

CARDINAL	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  Marry, when thou darest.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CARDINAL]  Make up no factious
	numbers for the matter;
	In thine own person answer thy abuse.

CARDINAL	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  Ay, where thou darest
	not peep: an if thou darest,
	This evening, on the east side of the grove.

KING HENRY VI	How now, my lords!

CARDINAL	       Believe me, cousin Gloucester,
	Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
	We had had more sport.

	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]

		 Come with thy two-hand sword.

GLOUCESTER	True, uncle.

CARDINAL	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  Are ye advised? the
	east side of the grove?

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CARDINAL]  Cardinal, I am with you.

KING HENRY VI	Why, how now, uncle Gloucester!

GLOUCESTER	Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.

	[Aside to CARDINAL]

	Now, by God's mother, priest, I'll shave your crown for this,
	Or all my fence shall fail.

CARDINAL	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  Medice, teipsum--
	Protector, see to't well, protect yourself.

KING HENRY VI	The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords.
	How irksome is this music to my heart!
	When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?
	I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.

	[Enter a Townsman of Saint Alban's, crying 'A miracle!']

GLOUCESTER	What means this noise?
	Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?

Townsman	A miracle! a miracle!

SUFFOLK	Come to the king and tell him what miracle.

Townsman	Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine,
	Within this half-hour, hath received his sight;
	A man that ne'er saw in his life before.

KING HENRY VI	Now, God be praised, that to believing souls
	Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!

	[Enter the Mayor of Saint Alban's and his
	brethren, bearing SIMPCOX, between two in a
	chair, SIMPCOX's Wife following]

CARDINAL	Here comes the townsmen on procession,
	To present your highness with the man.

KING HENRY VI	Great is his comfort in this earthly vale,
	Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.

GLOUCESTER	Stand by, my masters: bring him near the king;
	His highness' pleasure is to talk with him.

KING HENRY VI	Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance,
	That we for thee may glorify the Lord.
	What, hast thou been long blind and now restored?

SIMPCOX	Born blind, an't please your grace.

Wife	Ay, indeed, was he.

SUFFOLK	What woman is this?

Wife	His wife, an't like your worship.

GLOUCESTER	Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have
	better told.

KING HENRY VI	Where wert thou born?

SIMPCOX	At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace.

KING HENRY VI	Poor soul, God's goodness hath been great to thee:
	Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass,
	But still remember what the Lord hath done.

QUEEN MARGARET	Tell me, good fellow, camest thou here by chance,
	Or of devotion, to this holy shrine?

SIMPCOX	God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd
	A hundred times and oftener, in my sleep,
	By good Saint Alban; who said, 'Simpcox, come,
	Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.'

Wife	Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft
	Myself have heard a voice to call him so.

CARDINAL	What, art thou lame?

SIMPCOX	Ay, God Almighty help me!

SUFFOLK	How camest thou so?

SIMPCOX	A fall off of a tree.

Wife	A plum-tree, master.

GLOUCESTER	How long hast thou been blind?

SIMPCOX	Born so, master.

GLOUCESTER	       What, and wouldst climb a tree?

SIMPCOX	But that in all my life, when I was a youth.

Wife	Too true; and bought his climbing very dear.

GLOUCESTER	Mass, thou lovedst plums well, that wouldst
	venture so.

SIMPCOX	Alas, good master, my wife desired some damsons,
	And made me climb, with danger of my life.

GLOUCESTER	A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve.
	Let me see thine eyes: wink now: now open them:
	In my opinion yet thou seest not well.

SIMPCOX	Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and
	Saint Alban.

GLOUCESTER	Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of?

SIMPCOX	Red, master; red as blood.

GLOUCESTER	Why, that's well said. What colour is my gown of?

SIMPCOX	Black, forsooth: coal-black as jet.

KING HENRY VI	Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of?

SUFFOLK	And yet, I think, jet did he never see.

GLOUCESTER	But cloaks and gowns, before this day, a many.

Wife	Never, before this day, in all his life.

GLOUCESTER	Tell me, sirrah, what's my name?

SIMPCOX	Alas, master, I know not.

GLOUCESTER	What's his name?

SIMPCOX	I know not.

GLOUCESTER	Nor his?

SIMPCOX	No, indeed, master.

GLOUCESTER	What's thine own name?

SIMPCOX	Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master.

GLOUCESTER	Then, Saunder, sit there, the lyingest knave in
	Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou
	mightest as well have known all our names as thus to
	name the several colours we do wear. Sight may
	distinguish of colours, but suddenly to nominate them
	all, it is impossible. My lords, Saint Alban here
	hath done a miracle; and would ye not think his
	cunning to be great, that could restore this cripple
	to his legs again?

SIMPCOX	O master, that you could!

GLOUCESTER	My masters of Saint Alban's, have you not beadles in
	your town, and things called whips?

Mayor	Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.

GLOUCESTER	Then send for one presently.

Mayor	Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.

	[Exit an Attendant]

GLOUCESTER	Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. Now, sirrah,
	if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me
	over this stool and run away.

SIMPCOX	Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone:
	You go about to torture me in vain.

	[Enter a Beadle with whips]

GLOUCESTER	Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah
	beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool.

Beadle	I will, my lord. Come on, sirrah; off with your
	doublet quickly.

SIMPCOX	Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.

	[After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over
	the stool and runs away; and they follow and cry, 'A miracle!']

KING HENRY VI	O God, seest Thou this, and bearest so long?

QUEEN MARGARET	It made me laugh to see the villain run.

GLOUCESTER	Follow the knave; and take this drab away.

Wife	Alas, sir, we did it for pure need.

GLOUCESTER	Let them be whipped through every market-town, till
	they come to Berwick, from whence they came.

	[Exeunt Wife, Beadle, Mayor, &c]

CARDINAL	Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day.

SUFFOLK	True; made the lame to leap and fly away.

GLOUCESTER	But you have done more miracles than I;
	You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM]

KING HENRY VI	What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM	Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold.
	A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent,
	Under the countenance and confederacy
	Of Lady Eleanor, the protector's wife,
	The ringleader and head of all this rout,
	Have practised dangerously against your state,
	Dealing with witches and with conjurers:
	Whom we have apprehended in the fact;
	Raising up wicked spirits from under ground,
	Demanding of King Henry's life and death,
	And other of your highness' privy-council;
	As more at large your grace shall understand.

CARDINAL	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  And so, my lord protector,
	by this means
	Your lady is forthcoming yet at London.
	This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge;
	'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.

GLOUCESTER	Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart:
	Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers;
	And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee,
	Or to the meanest groom.

KING HENRY VI	O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones,
	Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!

QUEEN MARGARET	Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest.
	And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.

GLOUCESTER	Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal,
	How I have loved my king and commonweal:
	And, for my wife, I know not how it stands;
	Sorry I am to hear what I have heard:
	Noble she is, but if she have forgot
	Honour and virtue and conversed with such
	As, like to pitch, defile nobility,
	I banish her my bed and company
	And give her as a prey to law and shame,
	That hath dishonour'd Gloucester's honest name.

KING HENRY VI	Well, for this night we will repose us here:
	To-morrow toward London back again,
	To look into this business thoroughly
	And call these foul offenders to their answers
	And poise the cause in justice' equal scales,
	Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE II	London. YORK'S garden.


	[Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK]

YORK	Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
	Our simple supper ended, give me leave
	In this close walk to satisfy myself,
	In craving your opinion of my title,
	Which is infallible, to England's crown.

SALISBURY	My lord, I long to hear it at full.

WARWICK	Sweet York, begin: and if thy claim be good,
	The Nevils are thy subjects to command.

YORK	Then thus:
	Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons:
	The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales;
	The second, William of Hatfield, and the third,
	Lionel Duke of Clarence: next to whom
	Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster;
	The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York;
	The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester;
	William of Windsor was the seventh and last.
	Edward the Black Prince died before his father
	And left behind him Richard, his only son,
	Who after Edward the Third's death reign'd as king;
	Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster,
	The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt,
	Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth,
	Seized on the realm, deposed the rightful king,
	Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came,
	And him to Pomfret; where, as all you know,
	Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously.

WARWICK	Father, the duke hath told the truth:
	Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.

YORK	Which now they hold by force and not by right;
	For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead,
	The issue of the next son should have reign'd.

SALISBURY	But William of Hatfield died without an heir.

YORK	The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line
	I claimed the crown, had issue, Philippe, a daughter,
	Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March:
	Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March;
	Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne and Eleanor.

SALISBURY	This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke,
	As I have read, laid claim unto the crown;
	And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
	Who kept him in captivity till he died.
	But to the rest.

YORK	       His eldest sister, Anne,
	My mother, being heir unto the crown
	Married Richard Earl of Cambridge; who was son
	To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son.
	By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir
	To Roger Earl of March, who was the son
	Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe,
	Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence:
	So, if the issue of the elder son
	Succeed before the younger, I am king.

WARWICK	What plain proceeding is more plain than this?
	Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt,
	The fourth son; York claims it from the third.
	Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign:
	It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee
	And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.
	Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together;
	And in this private plot be we the first
	That shall salute our rightful sovereign
	With honour of his birthright to the crown.

BOTH	Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king!

YORK	We thank you, lords. But I am not your king
	Till I be crown'd and that my sword be stain'd
	With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster;
	And that's not suddenly to be perform'd,
	But with advice and silent secrecy.
	Do you as I do in these dangerous days:
	Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence,
	At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition,
	At Buckingham and all the crew of them,
	Till they have snared the shepherd of the flock,
	That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey:
	'Tis that they seek, and they in seeking that
	Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.

SALISBURY	My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full.

WARWICK	My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick
	Shall one day make the Duke of York a king.

YORK	And, Nevil, this I do assure myself:
	Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
	The greatest man in England but the king.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE III	A hall of justice.


	[Sound trumpets. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN
	MARGARET, GLOUCESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, and SALISBURY;
	the DUCHESS, MARGARET JOURDAIN, SOUTHWELL, HUME,
	and BOLINGBROKE, under guard]

KING HENRY VI	Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife:
	In sight of God and us, your guilt is great:
	Receive the sentence of the law for sins
	Such as by God's book are adjudged to death.
	You four, from hence to prison back again;
	From thence unto the place of execution:
	The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes,
	And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.
	You, madam, for you are more nobly born,
	Despoiled of your honour in your life,
	Shall, after three days' open penance done,
	Live in your country here in banishment,
	With Sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man.

DUCHESS	Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death.

GLOUCESTER	Eleanor, the law, thou see'st, hath judged thee:
	I cannot justify whom the law condemns.

	[Exeunt DUCHESS and other prisoners, guarded]

	Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
	Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age
	Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!
	I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go;
	Sorrow would solace and mine age would ease.

KING HENRY VI	Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester: ere thou go,
	Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself
	Protector be; and God shall be my hope,
	My stay, my guide and lantern to my feet:
	And go in peace, Humphrey, no less beloved
	Than when thou wert protector to thy King.

QUEEN MARGARET	I see no reason why a king of years
	Should be to be protected like a child.
	God and King Henry govern England's realm.
	Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm.

GLOUCESTER	My staff? here, noble Henry, is my staff:
	As willingly do I the same resign
	As e'er thy father Henry made it mine;
	And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it
	As others would ambitiously receive it.
	Farewell, good king: when I am dead and gone,
	May honourable peace attend thy throne!

	[Exit]

QUEEN MARGARET	Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen;
	And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself,
	That bears so shrewd a maim; two pulls at once;
	His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off.
	This staff of honour raught, there let it stand
	Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand.

SUFFOLK	Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays;
	Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.

YORK	Lords, let him go. Please it your majesty,
	This is the day appointed for the combat;
	And ready are the appellant and defendant,
	The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
	So please your highness to behold the fight.

QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore
	Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.

KING HENRY VI	O God's name, see the lists and all things fit:
	Here let them end it; and God defend the right!

YORK	I never saw a fellow worse bested,
	Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
	The servant of this armourer, my lords.

	[Enter at one door, HORNER, the Armourer, and his
	Neighbours, drinking to him so much that he is drunk;
	and he enters with a drum before him and his staff
	with a sand-bag fastened to it; and at the other
	door PETER, his man, with a drum and sand-bag, and
	'Prentices drinking to him]

First Neighbour	Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of
	sack: and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.

Second Neighbour	And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco.

Third Neighbour	And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour:
	drink, and fear not your man.

HORNER	Let it come, i' faith, and I'll pledge you all; and
	a fig for Peter!

First 'Prentice	Here, Peter, I drink to thee: and be not afraid.

Second 'Prentice	Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight
	for credit of the 'prentices.

PETER	I thank you all: drink, and pray for me, I pray
	you; for I think I have taken my last draught in
	this world. Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee
	my apron: and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer:
	and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O
	Lord bless me! I pray God! for I am never able to
	deal with my master, he hath learnt me so much fence already.

SALISBURY	Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.
	Sirrah, what's thy name?

PETER	Peter, forsooth.

SALISBURY	Peter! what more?

PETER	Thump.

SALISBURY	Thump! then see thou thump thy master well.

HORNER	Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's
	instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an
	honest man: and touching the Duke of York, I will
	take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the
	king, nor the queen: and therefore, Peter, have at
	thee with a downright blow!

YORK	Dispatch: this knave's tongue begins to double.
	Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants!

	[Alarum. They fight, and PETER strikes him down]

HORNER	Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.

	[Dies]

YORK	Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God, and the
	good wine in thy master's way.

PETER	O God, have I overcome mine enemy in this presence?
	O Peter, thou hast prevailed in right!

KING HENRY VI	Go, take hence that traitor from our sight;
	For his death we do perceive his guilt:
	And God in justice hath revealed to us
	The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
	Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.
	Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.

	[Sound a flourish. Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE IV	A street.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER and his Servingmen, in
	mourning cloaks]

GLOUCESTER	Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud;
	And after summer evermore succeeds
	Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold:
	So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
	Sirs, what's o'clock?

Servants	Ten, my lord.

GLOUCESTER	Ten is the hour that was appointed me
	To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess:
	Uneath may she endure the flinty streets,
	To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
	Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook
	The abject people gazing on thy face,
	With envious looks, laughing at thy shame,
	That erst did follow thy proud chariot-wheels
	When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
	But, soft! I think she comes; and I'll prepare
	My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.

	[Enter the DUCHESS in a white sheet, and a taper
	burning in her hand; with STANLEY, the Sheriff,
	and Officers]

Servant	So please your grace, we'll take her from the sheriff.

GLOUCESTER	No, stir not, for your lives; let her pass by.

DUCHESS	Come you, my lord, to see my open shame?
	Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze!
	See how the giddy multitude do point,
	And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee!
	Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks,
	And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame,
	And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine!

GLOUCESTER	Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.

DUCHESS	Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself!
	For whilst I think I am thy married wife
	And thou a prince, protector of this land,
	Methinks I should not thus be led along,
	Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back,
	And followed with a rabble that rejoice
	To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans.
	The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,
	And when I start, the envious people laugh
	And bid me be advised how I tread.
	Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
	Trow'st thou that e'er I'll look upon the world,
	Or count them happy that enjoy the sun?
	No; dark shall be my light and night my day;
	To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.
	Sometime I'll say, I am Duke Humphrey's wife,
	And he a prince and ruler of the land:
	Yet so he ruled and such a prince he was
	As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess,
	Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock
	To every idle rascal follower.
	But be thou mild and blush not at my shame,
	Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death
	Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will;
	For Suffolk, he that can do all in all
	With her that hateth thee and hates us all,
	And York and impious Beaufort, that false priest,
	Have all limed bushes to betray thy wings,
	And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee:
	But fear not thou, until thy foot be snared,
	Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.

GLOUCESTER	Ah, Nell, forbear! thou aimest all awry;
	I must offend before I be attainted;
	And had I twenty times so many foes,
	And each of them had twenty times their power,
	All these could not procure me any scathe,
	So long as I am loyal, true and crimeless.
	Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach?
	Why, yet thy scandal were not wiped away
	But I in danger for the breach of law.
	Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell:
	I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience;
	These few days' wonder will be quickly worn.

	[Enter a Herald]

Herald	I summon your grace to his majesty's parliament,
	Holden at Bury the first of this next month.

GLOUCESTER	And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before!
	This is close dealing. Well, I will be there.

	[Exit Herald]

	My Nell, I take my leave: and, master sheriff,
	Let not her penance exceed the king's commission.

Sheriff	An't please your grace, here my commission stays,
	And Sir John Stanley is appointed now
	To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

GLOUCESTER	Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?

STANLEY	So am I given in charge, may't please your grace.

GLOUCESTER	Entreat her not the worse in that I pray
	You use her well: the world may laugh again;
	And I may live to do you kindness if
	You do it her: and so, Sir John, farewell!

DUCHESS	What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell!

GLOUCESTER	Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.

	[Exeunt GLOUCESTER and Servingmen]

DUCHESS	Art thou gone too? all comfort go with thee!
	For none abides with me: my joy is death;
	Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd,
	Because I wish'd this world's eternity.
	Stanley, I prithee, go, and take me hence;
	I care not whither, for I beg no favour,
	Only convey me where thou art commanded.

STANLEY	Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man;
	There to be used according to your state.

DUCHESS	That's bad enough, for I am but reproach:
	And shall I then be used reproachfully?

STANLEY	Like to a duchess, and Duke Humphrey's lady;
	According to that state you shall be used.

DUCHESS	Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare,
	Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.

Sheriff	It is my office; and, madam, pardon me.

DUCHESS	Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharged.
	Come, Stanley, shall we go?

STANLEY	Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
	And go we to attire you for our journey.

DUCHESS	My shame will not be shifted with my sheet:
	No, it will hang upon my richest robes
	And show itself, attire me how I can.
	Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE I	The Abbey at Bury St. Edmund's.


	[Sound a sennet. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN
	MARGARET, CARDINAL, SUFFOLK, YORK, BUCKINGHAM,
	SALISBURY and WARWICK to the Parliament]

KING HENRY VI	I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come:
	'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
	Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.

QUEEN MARGARET	Can you not see? or will ye not observe
	The strangeness of his alter'd countenance?
	With what a majesty he bears himself,
	How insolent of late he is become,
	How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself?
	We know the time since he was mild and affable,
	And if we did but glance a far-off look,
	Immediately he was upon his knee,
	That all the court admired him for submission:
	But meet him now, and, be it in the morn,
	When every one will give the time of day,
	He knits his brow and shows an angry eye,
	And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
	Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
	Small curs are not regarded when they grin;
	But great men tremble when the lion roars;
	And Humphrey is no little man in England.
	First note that he is near you in descent,
	And should you fall, he as the next will mount.
	Me seemeth then it is no policy,
	Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears
	And his advantage following your decease,
	That he should come about your royal person
	Or be admitted to your highness' council.
	By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts,
	And when he please to make commotion,
	'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.
	Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
	Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden
	And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
	The reverent care I bear unto my lord
	Made me collect these dangers in the duke.
	If it be fond, call it a woman's fear;
	Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
	I will subscribe and say I wrong'd the duke.
	My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
	Reprove my allegation, if you can;
	Or else conclude my words effectual.

SUFFOLK	Well hath your highness seen into this duke;
	And, had I first been put to speak my mind,
	I think I should have told your grace's tale.
	The duchess, by his subornation,
	Upon my life, began her devilish practises:
	Or, if he were not privy to those faults,
	Yet, by reputing of his high descent,
	As next the king he was successive heir,
	And such high vaunts of his nobility,
	Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess
	By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall.
	Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep;
	And in his simple show he harbours treason.
	The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
	No, no, my sovereign; Gloucester is a man
	Unsounded yet and full of deep deceit.

CARDINAL	Did he not, contrary to form of law,
	Devise strange deaths for small offences done?

YORK	And did he not, in his protectorship,
	Levy great sums of money through the realm
	For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it?
	By means whereof the towns each day revolted.

BUCKINGHAM	Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown.
	Which time will bring to light in smooth
	Duke Humphrey.

KING HENRY VI	My lords, at once: the care you have of us,
	To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
	Is worthy praise: but, shall I speak my conscience,
	Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent
	From meaning treason to our royal person
	As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove:
	The duke is virtuous, mild and too well given
	To dream on evil or to work my downfall.

QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance!
	Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrowed,
	For he's disposed as the hateful raven:
	Is he a lamb? his skin is surely lent him,
	For he's inclined as is the ravenous wolf.
	Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?
	Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
	Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.

	[Enter SOMERSET]

SOMERSET	All health unto my gracious sovereign!

KING HENRY VI	Welcome, Lord Somerset. What news from France?

SOMERSET	That all your interest in those territories
	Is utterly bereft you; all is lost.

KING HENRY VI	Cold news, Lord Somerset: but God's will be done!

YORK	[Aside]  Cold news for me; for I had hope of France
	As firmly as I hope for fertile England.
	Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud
	And caterpillars eat my leaves away;
	But I will remedy this gear ere long,
	Or sell my title for a glorious grave.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	All happiness unto my lord the king!
	Pardon, my liege, that I have stay'd so long.

SUFFOLK	Nay, Gloucester, know that thou art come too soon,
	Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art:
	I do arrest thee of high treason here.

GLOUCESTER	Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me blush
	Nor change my countenance for this arrest:
	A heart unspotted is not easily daunted.
	The purest spring is not so free from mud
	As I am clear from treason to my sovereign:
	Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty?

YORK	'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France,
	And, being protector, stayed the soldiers' pay;
	By means whereof his highness hath lost France.

GLOUCESTER	Is it but thought so? what are they that think it?
	I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay,
	Nor ever had one penny bribe from France.
	So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,
	Ay, night by night, in studying good for England,
	That doit that e'er I wrested from the king,
	Or any groat I hoarded to my use,
	Be brought against me at my trial-day!
	No; many a pound of mine own proper store,
	Because I would not tax the needy commons,
	Have I disbursed to the garrisons,
	And never ask'd for restitution.

CARDINAL	It serves you well, my lord, to say so much.

GLOUCESTER	I say no more than truth, so help me God!

YORK	In your protectorship you did devise
	Strange tortures for offenders never heard of,
	That England was defamed by tyranny.

GLOUCESTER	Why, 'tis well known that, whiles I was
	protector,
	Pity was all the fault that was in me;
	For I should melt at an offender's tears,
	And lowly words were ransom for their fault.
	Unless it were a bloody murderer,
	Or foul felonious thief that fleeced poor passengers,
	I never gave them condign punishment:
	Murder indeed, that bloody sin, I tortured
	Above the felon or what trespass else.

SUFFOLK	My lord, these faults are easy, quickly answered:
	But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge,
	Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself.
	I do arrest you in his highness' name;
	And here commit you to my lord cardinal
	To keep, until your further time of trial.

KING HENRY VI	My lord of Gloucester, 'tis my special hope
	That you will clear yourself from all suspect:
	My conscience tells me you are innocent.

GLOUCESTER	Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous:
	Virtue is choked with foul ambition
	And charity chased hence by rancour's hand;
	Foul subornation is predominant
	And equity exiled your highness' land.
	I know their complot is to have my life,
	And if my death might make this island happy,
	And prove the period of their tyranny,
	I would expend it with all willingness:
	But mine is made the prologue to their play;
	For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril,
	Will not conclude their plotted tragedy.
	Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice,
	And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate;
	Sharp Buckingham unburthens with his tongue
	The envious load that lies upon his heart;
	And dogged York, that reaches at the moon,
	Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back,
	By false accuse doth level at my life:
	And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest,
	Causeless have laid disgraces on my head,
	And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up
	My liefest liege to be mine enemy:
	Ay, all you have laid your heads together--
	Myself had notice of your conventicles--
	And all to make away my guiltless life.
	I shall not want false witness to condemn me,
	Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt;
	The ancient proverb will be well effected:
	'A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.'

CARDINAL	My liege, his railing is intolerable:
	If those that care to keep your royal person
	From treason's secret knife and traitors' rage
	Be thus upbraided, chid and rated at,
	And the offender granted scope of speech,
	'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

SUFFOLK	Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here
	With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'd,
	As if she had suborned some to swear
	False allegations to o'erthrow his state?

QUEEN MARGARET	But I can give the loser leave to chide.

GLOUCESTER	Far truer spoke than meant: I lose, indeed;
	Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false!
	And well such losers may have leave to speak.

BUCKINGHAM	He'll wrest the sense and hold us here all day:
	Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.

CARDINAL	Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure.

GLOUCESTER	Ah! thus King Henry throws away his crutch
	Before his legs be firm to bear his body.
	Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side,
	And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first.
	Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were!
	For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.

	[Exit, guarded]

KING HENRY VI	My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best,
	Do or undo, as if ourself were here.

QUEEN MARGARET	What, will your highness leave the parliament?

KING HENRY VI	Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief,
	Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes,
	My body round engirt with misery,
	For what's more miserable than discontent?
	Ah, uncle Humphrey! in thy face I see
	The map of honour, truth and loyalty:
	And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come
	That e'er I proved thee false or fear'd thy faith.
	What louring star now envies thy estate,
	That these great lords and Margaret our queen
	Do seek subversion of thy harmless life?
	Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong;
	And as the butcher takes away the calf
	And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays,
	Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house,
	Even so remorseless have they borne him hence;
	And as the dam runs lowing up and down,
	Looking the way her harmless young one went,
	And can do nought but wail her darling's loss,
	Even so myself bewails good Gloucester's case
	With sad unhelpful tears, and with dimm'd eyes
	Look after him and cannot do him good,
	So mighty are his vowed enemies.
	His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan
	Say 'Who's a traitor? Gloucester he is none.'

	[Exeunt all but QUEEN MARGARET, CARDINAL,
	SUFFOLK, and YORK; SOMERSET remains apart]

QUEEN MARGARET	Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams.
	Henry my lord is cold in great affairs,
	Too full of foolish pity, and Gloucester's show
	Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile
	With sorrow snares relenting passengers,
	Or as the snake roll'd in a flowering bank,
	With shining chequer'd slough, doth sting a child
	That for the beauty thinks it excellent.
	Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I--
	And yet herein I judge mine own wit good--
	This Gloucester should be quickly rid the world,
	To rid us of the fear we have of him.

CARDINAL	That he should die is worthy policy;
	But yet we want a colour for his death:
	'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law.

SUFFOLK	But, in my mind, that were no policy:
	The king will labour still to save his life,
	The commons haply rise, to save his life;
	And yet we have but trivial argument,
	More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death.

YORK	So that, by this, you would not have him die.

SUFFOLK	Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I!

YORK	'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.
	But, my lord cardinal, and you, my Lord of Suffolk,
	Say as you think, and speak it from your souls,
	Were't not all one, an empty eagle were set
	To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,
	As place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector?

QUEEN MARGARET	So the poor chicken should be sure of death.

SUFFOLK	Madam, 'tis true; and were't not madness, then,
	To make the fox surveyor of the fold?
	Who being accused a crafty murderer,
	His guilt should be but idly posted over,
	Because his purpose is not executed.
	No; let him die, in that he is a fox,
	By nature proved an enemy to the flock,
	Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood,
	As Humphrey, proved by reasons, to my liege.
	And do not stand on quillets how to slay him:
	Be it by gins, by snares, by subtlety,
	Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how,
	So he be dead; for that is good deceit
	Which mates him first that first intends deceit.

QUEEN MARGARET	Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke.

SUFFOLK	Not resolute, except so much were done;
	For things are often spoke and seldom meant:
	But that my heart accordeth with my tongue,
	Seeing the deed is meritorious,
	And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,
	Say but the word, and I will be his priest.

CARDINAL	But I would have him dead, my Lord of Suffolk,
	Ere you can take due orders for a priest:
	Say you consent and censure well the deed,
	And I'll provide his executioner,
	I tender so the safety of my liege.

SUFFOLK	Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.

QUEEN MARGARET	And so say I.

YORK	And I    and now we three have spoke it,
	It skills not greatly who impugns our doom.

	[Enter a Post]

Post	Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain,
	To signify that rebels there are up
	And put the Englishmen unto the sword:
	Send succors, lords, and stop the rage betime,
	Before the wound do grow uncurable;
	For, being green, there is great hope of help.

CARDINAL	A breach that craves a quick expedient stop!
	What counsel give you in this weighty cause?

YORK	That Somerset be sent as regent thither:
	'Tis meet that lucky ruler be employ'd;
	Witness the fortune he hath had in France.

SOMERSET	If York, with all his far-fet policy,
	Had been the regent there instead of me,
	He never would have stay'd in France so long.

YORK	No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done:
	I rather would have lost my life betimes
	Than bring a burthen of dishonour home
	By staying there so long till all were lost.
	Show me one scar character'd on thy skin:
	Men's flesh preserved so whole do seldom win.

QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, then, this spark will prove a raging fire,
	If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with:
	No more, good York; sweet Somerset, be still:
	Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there,
	Might happily have proved far worse than his.

YORK	What, worse than nought? nay, then, a shame take all!

SOMERSET	And, in the number, thee that wishest shame!

CARDINAL	My Lord of York, try what your fortune is.
	The uncivil kerns of Ireland are in arms
	And temper clay with blood of Englishmen:
	To Ireland will you lead a band of men,
	Collected choicely, from each county some,
	And try your hap against the Irishmen?

YORK	I will, my lord, so please his majesty.

SUFFOLK	Why, our authority is his consent,
	And what we do establish he confirms:
	Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.

YORK	I am content: provide me soldiers, lords,
	Whiles I take order for mine own affairs.

SUFFOLK	A charge, Lord York, that I will see perform'd.
	But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.

CARDINAL	No more of him; for I will deal with him
	That henceforth he shall trouble us no more.
	And so break off; the day is almost spent:
	Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.

YORK	My Lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days
	At Bristol I expect my soldiers;
	For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.

SUFFOLK	I'll see it truly done, my Lord of York.

	[Exeunt all but YORK]

YORK	Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts,
	And change misdoubt to resolution:
	Be that thou hopest to be, or what thou art
	Resign to death; it is not worth the enjoying:
	Let pale-faced fear keep with the mean-born man,
	And find no harbour in a royal heart.
	Faster than spring-time showers comes thought
	on thought,
	And not a thought but thinks on dignity.
	My brain more busy than the labouring spider
	Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies.
	Well, nobles, well, 'tis politicly done,
	To send me packing with an host of men:
	I fear me you but warm the starved snake,
	Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting
	your hearts.
	'Twas men I lack'd and you will give them me:
	I take it kindly; and yet be well assured
	You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands.
	Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band,
	I will stir up in England some black storm
	Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell;
	And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage
	Until the golden circuit on my head,
	Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
	Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.
	And, for a minister of my intent,
	I have seduced a headstrong Kentishman,
	John Cade of Ashford,
	To make commotion, as full well he can,
	Under the title of John Mortimer.
	In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade
	Oppose himself against a troop of kerns,
	And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts
	Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porpentine;
	And, in the end being rescued, I have seen
	Him caper upright like a wild Morisco,
	Shaking the bloody darts as he his bells.
	Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kern,
	Hath he conversed with the enemy,
	And undiscover'd come to me again
	And given me notice of their villanies.
	This devil here shall be my substitute;
	For that John Mortimer, which now is dead,
	In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble:
	By this I shall perceive the commons' mind,
	How they affect the house and claim of York.
	Say he be taken, rack'd and tortured,
	I know no pain they can inflict upon him
	Will make him say I moved him to those arms.
	Say that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will,
	Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength
	And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd;
	For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,
	And Henry put apart, the next for me.

	[Exit]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE II	Bury St. Edmund's. A room of state.


	[Enter certain Murderers, hastily]

First Murderer	Run to my Lord of Suffolk; let him know
	We have dispatch'd the duke, as he commanded.

Second Murderer	O that it were to do! What have we done?
	Didst ever hear a man so penitent?

	[Enter SUFFOLK]

First Murder	Here comes my lord.

SUFFOLK	Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this thing?

First Murderer	Ay, my good lord, he's dead.

SUFFOLK	Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house;
	I will reward you for this venturous deed.
	The king and all the peers are here at hand.
	Have you laid fair the bed? Is all things well,
	According as I gave directions?

First Murderer	'Tis, my good lord.

SUFFOLK	Away! be gone.

	[Exeunt Murderers]

	[Sound trumpets. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN
	MARGARET, CARDINAL, SOMERSET, with Attendants]

KING HENRY VI	Go, call our uncle to our presence straight;
	Say we intend to try his grace to-day.
	If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

SUFFOLK	I'll call him presently, my noble lord.

	[Exit]

KING HENRY VI	Lords, take your places; and, I pray you all,
	Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloucester
	Than from true evidence of good esteem
	He be approved in practise culpable.

QUEEN MARGARET	God forbid any malice should prevail,
	That faultless may condemn a nobleman!
	Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion!

KING HENRY VI	I thank thee, Meg; these words content me much.

	[Re-enter SUFFOLK]

	How now! why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou?
	Where is our uncle? what's the matter, Suffolk?

SUFFOLK	Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloucester is dead.

QUEEN MARGARET	Marry, God forfend!

CARDINAL	God's secret judgment: I did dream to-night
	The duke was dumb and could not speak a word.

	[KING HENRY VI swoons]

QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my lord? Help, lords! the king is dead.

SOMERSET	Rear up his body; wring him by the nose.

QUEEN MARGARET	Run, go, help, help! O Henry, ope thine eyes!

SUFFOLK	He doth revive again: madam, be patient.

KING HENRY VI	O heavenly God!

QUEEN MARGARET	How fares my gracious lord?

SUFFOLK	Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort!

KING HENRY VI	What, doth my Lord of Suffolk comfort me?
	Came he right now to sing a raven's note,
	Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers;
	And thinks he that the chirping of a wren,
	By crying comfort from a hollow breast,
	Can chase away the first-conceived sound?
	Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words;
	Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say;
	Their touch affrights me as a serpent's sting.
	Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight!
	Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny
	Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world.
	Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding:
	Yet do not go away: come, basilisk,
	And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight;
	For in the shade of death I shall find joy;
	In life but double death, now Gloucester's dead.

QUEEN MARGARET	Why do you rate my Lord of Suffolk thus?
	Although the duke was enemy to him,
	Yet he most Christian-like laments his death:
	And for myself, foe as he was to me,
	Might liquid tears or heart-offending groans
	Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life,
	I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans,
	Look pale as primrose with blood-drinking sighs,
	And all to have the noble duke alive.
	What know I how the world may deem of me?
	For it is known we were but hollow friends:
	It may be judged I made the duke away;
	So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded,
	And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach.
	This get I by his death: ay me, unhappy!
	To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!

KING HENRY VI	Ah, woe is me for Gloucester, wretched man!

QUEEN MARGARET	Be woe for me, more wretched than he is.
	What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face?
	I am no loathsome leper; look on me.
	What! art thou, like the adder, waxen deaf?
	Be poisonous too and kill thy forlorn queen.
	Is all thy comfort shut in Gloucester's tomb?
	Why, then, dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy.
	Erect his statue and worship it,
	And make my image but an alehouse sign.
	Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea
	And twice by awkward wind from England's bank
	Drove back again unto my native clime?
	What boded this, but well forewarning wind
	Did seem to say 'Seek not a scorpion's nest,
	Nor set no footing on this unkind shore'?
	What did I then, but cursed the gentle gusts
	And he that loosed them forth their brazen caves:
	And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore,
	Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock
	Yet AEolus would not be a murderer,
	But left that hateful office unto thee:
	The pretty-vaulting sea refused to drown me,
	Knowing that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore,
	With tears as salt as sea, through thy unkindness:
	The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands
	And would not dash me with their ragged sides,
	Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they,
	Might in thy palace perish Margaret.
	As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs,
	When from thy shore the tempest beat us back,
	I stood upon the hatches in the storm,
	And when the dusky sky began to rob
	My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,
	I took a costly jewel from my neck,
	A heart it was, bound in with diamonds,
	And threw it towards thy land: the sea received it,
	And so I wish'd thy body might my heart:
	And even with this I lost fair England's view
	And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart
	And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles,
	For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.
	How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue,
	The agent of thy foul inconstancy,
	To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did
	When he to madding Dido would unfold
	His father's acts commenced in burning Troy!
	Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like him?
	Ay me, I can no more! die, Margaret!
	For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long.

	[Noise within. Enter WARWICK, SALISBURY, and many Commons]

WARWICK	It is reported, mighty sovereign,
	That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murder'd
	By Suffolk and the Cardinal Beaufort's means.
	The commons, like an angry hive of bees
	That want their leader, scatter up and down
	And care not who they sting in his revenge.
	Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny,
	Until they hear the order of his death.

KING HENRY VI	That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true;
	But how he died God knows, not Henry:
	Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse,
	And comment then upon his sudden death.

WARWICK	That shall I do, my liege. Stay, Salisbury,
	With the rude multitude till I return.

	[Exit]

KING HENRY VI	O Thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts,
	My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul
	Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life!
	If my suspect be false, forgive me, God,
	For judgment only doth belong to thee.
	Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips
	With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain
	Upon his face an ocean of salt tears,
	To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk,
	And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling:
	But all in vain are these mean obsequies;
	And to survey his dead and earthly image,
	What were it but to make my sorrow greater?

	[Re-enter WARWICK and others, bearing
	GLOUCESTER'S body on a bed]

WARWICK	Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.

KING HENRY VI	That is to see how deep my grave is made;
	For with his soul fled all my worldly solace,
	For seeing him I see my life in death.

WARWICK	As surely as my soul intends to live
	With that dread King that took our state upon him
	To free us from his father's wrathful curse,
	I do believe that violent hands were laid
	Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke.

SUFFOLK	A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue!
	What instance gives Lord Warwick for his vow?

WARWICK	See how the blood is settled in his face.
	Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,
	Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale and bloodless,
	Being all descended to the labouring heart;
	Who, in the conflict that it holds with death,
	Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy;
	Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth
	To blush and beautify the cheek again.
	But see, his face is black and full of blood,
	His eye-balls further out than when he lived,
	Staring full ghastly like a strangled man;
	His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretched with struggling;
	His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd
	And tugg'd for life and was by strength subdued:
	Look, on the sheets his hair you see, is sticking;
	His well-proportion'd beard made rough and rugged,
	Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodged.
	It cannot be but he was murder'd here;
	The least of all these signs were probable.

SUFFOLK	Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to death?
	Myself and Beaufort had him in protection;
	And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.

WARWICK	But both of you were vow'd Duke Humphrey's foes,
	And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep:
	'Tis like you would not feast him like a friend;
	And 'tis well seen he found an enemy.

QUEEN MARGARET	Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen
	As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death.

WARWICK	Who finds the heifer dead and bleeding fresh
	And sees fast by a butcher with an axe,
	But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter?
	Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest,
	But may imagine how the bird was dead,
	Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak?
	Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

QUEEN MARGARET	Are you the butcher, Suffolk? Where's your knife?
	Is Beaufort term'd a kite? Where are his talons?

SUFFOLK	I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men;
	But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease,
	That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart
	That slanders me with murder's crimson badge.
	Say, if thou darest, proud Lord of Warwick-shire,
	That I am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death.

	[Exeunt CARDINAL, SOMERSET, and others]

WARWICK	What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him?

QUEEN MARGARET	He dares not calm his contumelious spirit
	Nor cease to be an arrogant controller,
	Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times.

WARWICK	Madam, be still; with reverence may I say;
	For every word you speak in his behalf
	Is slander to your royal dignity.

SUFFOLK	Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanor!
	If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much,
	Thy mother took into her blameful bed
	Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock
	Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art,
	And never of the Nevils' noble race.

WARWICK	But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee
	And I should rob the deathsman of his fee,
	Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames,
	And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild,
	I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee
	Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech,
	And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st
	That thou thyself was born in bastardy;
	And after all this fearful homage done,
	Give thee thy hire and send thy soul to hell,
	Pernicious blood-sucker of sleeping men!

SUFFOLK	Thou shall be waking well I shed thy blood,
	If from this presence thou darest go with me.

WARWICK	Away even now, or I will drag thee hence:
	Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee
	And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghost.

	[Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK]

KING HENRY VI	What stronger breastplate than a heart untainted!
	Thrice is he armed that hath his quarrel just,
	And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel
	Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

	[A noise within]

QUEEN MARGARET	What noise is this?

	[Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their
	weapons drawn]

KING HENRY VI	Why, how now, lords! your wrathful weapons drawn
	Here in our presence! dare you be so bold?
	Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here?

SUFFOLK	The traitorous Warwick with the men of Bury
	Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

SALISBURY	[To the Commons, entering]  Sirs, stand apart;
	the king shall know your mind.
	Dread lord, the commons send you word by me,
	Unless Lord Suffolk straight be done to death,
	Or banished fair England's territories,
	They will by violence tear him from your palace
	And torture him with grievous lingering death.
	They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died;
	They say, in him they fear your highness' death;
	And mere instinct of love and loyalty,
	Free from a stubborn opposite intent,
	As being thought to contradict your liking,
	Makes them thus forward in his banishment.
	They say, in care of your most royal person,
	That if your highness should intend to sleep
	And charge that no man should disturb your rest
	In pain of your dislike or pain of death,
	Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict,
	Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue,
	That slily glided towards your majesty,
	It were but necessary you were waked,
	Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,
	The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal;
	And therefore do they cry, though you forbid,
	That they will guard you, whether you will or no,
	From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is,
	With whose envenomed and fatal sting,
	Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth,
	They say, is shamefully bereft of life.

Commons	[Within]  An answer from the king, my
	Lord of Salisbury!

SUFFOLK	'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds,
	Could send such message to their sovereign:
	But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd,
	To show how quaint an orator you are:
	But all the honour Salisbury hath won
	Is, that he was the lord ambassador
	Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king.

Commons	[Within]  An answer from the king, or we will all break in!

KING HENRY VI	Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from me.
	I thank them for their tender loving care;
	And had I not been cited so by them,
	Yet did I purpose as they do entreat;
	For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy
	Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means:
	And therefore, by His majesty I swear,
	Whose far unworthy deputy I am,
	He shall not breathe infection in this air
	But three days longer, on the pain of death.

	[Exit SALISBURY]

QUEEN MARGARET	O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk!

KING HENRY VI	Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk!
	No more, I say: if thou dost plead for him,
	Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath.
	Had I but said, I would have kept my word,
	But when I swear, it is irrevocable.
	If, after three days' space, thou here be'st found
	On any ground that I am ruler of,
	The world shall not be ransom for thy life.
	Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me;
	I have great matters to impart to thee.

	[Exeunt all but QUEEN MARGARET and SUFFOLK]

QUEEN MARGARET	Mischance and sorrow go along with you!
	Heart's discontent and sour affliction
	Be playfellows to keep you company!
	There's two of you; the devil make a third!
	And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps!

SUFFOLK	Cease, gentle queen, these execrations,
	And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

QUEEN MARGARET	Fie, coward woman and soft-hearted wretch!
	Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemy?

SUFFOLK	A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them?
	Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan,
	I would invent as bitter-searching terms,
	As curst, as harsh and horrible to hear,
	Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth,
	With full as many signs of deadly hate,
	As lean-faced Envy in her loathsome cave:
	My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words;
	Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint;
	Mine hair be fixed on end, as one distract;
	Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban:
	And even now my burthen'd heart would break,
	Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink!
	Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste!
	Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress trees!
	Their chiefest prospect murdering basilisks!
	Their softest touch as smart as lizards' sting!
	Their music frightful as the serpent's hiss,
	And boding screech-owls make the concert full!
	All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell--

QUEEN MARGARET	Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself;
	And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass,
	Or like an overcharged gun, recoil,
	And turn the force of them upon thyself.

SUFFOLK	You bade me ban, and will you bid me leave?
	Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from,
	Well could I curse away a winter's night,
	Though standing naked on a mountain top,
	Where biting cold would never let grass grow,
	And think it but a minute spent in sport.

QUEEN MARGARET	O, let me entreat thee cease. Give me thy hand,
	That I may dew it with my mournful tears;
	Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place,
	To wash away my woful monuments.
	O, could this kiss be printed in thy hand,
	That thou mightst think upon these by the seal,
	Through whom a thousand sighs are breathed for thee!
	So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief;
	'Tis but surmised whiles thou art standing by,
	As one that surfeits thinking on a want.
	I will repeal thee, or, be well assured,
	Adventure to be banished myself:
	And banished I am, if but from thee.
	Go; speak not to me; even now be gone.
	O, go not yet! Even thus two friends condemn'd
	Embrace and kiss and take ten thousand leaves,
	Loather a hundred times to part than die.
	Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee!

SUFFOLK	Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished;
	Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee.
	'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence;
	A wilderness is populous enough,
	So Suffolk had thy heavenly company:
	For where thou art, there is the world itself,
	With every several pleasure in the world,
	And where thou art not, desolation.
	I can no more: live thou to joy thy life;
	Myself no joy in nought but that thou livest.

	[Enter VAUX]

QUEEN MARGARET	Wither goes Vaux so fast? what news, I prithee?

VAUX	To signify unto his majesty
	That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death;
	For suddenly a grievous sickness took him,
	That makes him gasp and stare and catch the air,
	Blaspheming God and cursing men on earth.
	Sometimes he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost
	Were by his side; sometime he calls the king,
	And whispers to his pillow, as to him,
	The secrets of his overcharged soul;
	And I am sent to tell his majesty
	That even now he cries aloud for him.

QUEEN MARGARET	Go tell this heavy message to the king.

	[Exit VAUX]

	Ay me! what is this world! what news are these!
	But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,
	Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure?
	Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee,
	And with the southern clouds contend in tears,
	Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows?
	Now get thee hence: the king, thou know'st, is coming;
	If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

SUFFOLK	If I depart from thee, I cannot live;
	And in thy sight to die, what were it else
	But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap?
	Here could I breathe my soul into the air,
	As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe
	Dying with mother's dug between its lips:
	Where, from thy sight, I should be raging mad,
	And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes,
	To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth;
	So shouldst thou either turn my flying soul,
	Or I should breathe it so into thy body,
	And then it lived in sweet Elysium.
	To die by thee were but to die in jest;
	From thee to die were torture more than death:
	O, let me stay, befall what may befall!

QUEEN MARGARET	Away! though parting be a fretful corrosive,
	It is applied to a deathful wound.
	To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from thee;
	For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe,
	I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out.

SUFFOLK	I go.

QUEEN MARGARET	And take my heart with thee.

SUFFOLK	A jewel, lock'd into the wofull'st cask
	That ever did contain a thing of worth.
	Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we
	This way fall I to death.

QUEEN MARGARET	This way for me.

	[Exeunt severally]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE III	A bedchamber.


	[Enter the KING, SALISBURY, WARWICK, to the
	CARDINAL in bed]

KING HENRY VI	How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to
	thy sovereign.

CARDINAL	If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure,
	Enough to purchase such another island,
	So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.

KING HENRY VI	Ah, what a sign it is of evil life,
	Where death's approach is seen so terrible!

WARWICK	Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

CARDINAL	Bring me unto my trial when you will.
	Died he not in his bed? where should he die?
	Can I make men live, whether they will or no?
	O, torture me no more! I will confess.
	Alive again? then show me where he is:
	I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.
	He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.
	Comb down his hair; look, look! it stands upright,
	Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul.
	Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary
	Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

KING HENRY VI	O thou eternal Mover of the heavens.
	Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch!
	O, beat away the busy meddling fiend
	That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul.
	And from his bosom purge this black despair!

WARWICK	See, how the pangs of death do make him grin!

SALISBURY	Disturb him not; let him pass peaceably.

KING HENRY VI	Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be!
	Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss,
	Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.
	He dies, and makes no sign. O God, forgive him!

WARWICK	So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

KING HENRY VI	Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all.
	Close up his eyes and draw the curtain close;
	And let us all to meditation.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE I	The coast of Kent.


	[Alarum. Fight at sea. Ordnance goes off. Enter a
	Captain, a Master, a Master's-mate, WALTER WHITMORE,
	and others; with them SUFFOLK, and others, prisoners]

Captain	The gaudy, blabbing and remorseful day
	Is crept into the bosom of the sea;
	And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades
	That drag the tragic melancholy night;
	Who, with their drowsy, slow and flagging wings,
	Clip dead men's graves and from their misty jaws
	Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.
	Therefore bring forth the soldiers of our prize;
	For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs,
	Here shall they make their ransom on the sand,
	Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore.
	Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;
	And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;
	The other, Walter Whitmore, is thy share.

First Gentleman	What is my ransom, master? let me know.

Master	A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head.

Master's-Mate	And so much shall you give, or off goes yours.

Captain	What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns,
	And bear the name and port of gentlemen?
	Cut both the villains' throats; for die you shall:
	The lives of those which we have lost in fight
	Be counterpoised with such a petty sum!

First Gentleman	I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life.

Second Gentleman	And so will I and write home for it straight.

WHITMORE	I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard,
	And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die;

	[To SUFFOLK]

	And so should these, if I might have my will.

Captain	Be not so rash; take ransom, let him live.

SUFFOLK	Look on my George; I am a gentleman:
	Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid.

WHITMORE	And so am I; my name is Walter Whitmore.
	How now! why start'st thou? what, doth
	death affright?

SUFFOLK	Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death.
	A cunning man did calculate my birth
	And told me that by water I should die:
	Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded;
	Thy name is Gaultier, being rightly sounded.

WHITMORE	Gaultier or Walter, which it is, I care not:
	Never yet did base dishonour blur our name,
	But with our sword we wiped away the blot;
	Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge,
	Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defaced,
	And I proclaim'd a coward through the world!

SUFFOLK	Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince,
	The Duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole.

WHITMORE	The Duke of Suffolk muffled up in rags!

SUFFOLK	Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke:
	Jove sometimes went disguised, and why not I?

Captain	But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be.

SUFFOLK	Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's blood,
	The honourable blood of Lancaster,
	Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.
	Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand and held my stirrup?
	Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule
	And thought thee happy when I shook my head?
	How often hast thou waited at my cup,
	Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board.
	When I have feasted with Queen Margaret?
	Remember it and let it make thee crest-fall'n,
	Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride;
	How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood
	And duly waited for my coming forth?
	This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf,
	And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.

WHITMORE	Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?

Captain	First let my words stab him, as he hath me.

SUFFOLK	Base slave, thy words are blunt and so art thou.

Captain	Convey him hence and on our longboat's side
	Strike off his head.

SUFFOLK	Thou darest not, for thy own.

Captain	Yes, Pole.

SUFFOLK	       Pole!

Captain	         Pool! Sir Pool! lord!
	Ay, kennel, puddle, sink; whose filth and dirt
	Troubles the silver spring where England drinks.
	Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth
	For swallowing the treasure of the realm:
	Thy lips that kiss'd the queen shall sweep the ground;
	And thou that smiledst at good Duke Humphrey's death,
	Against the senseless winds shalt grin in vain,
	Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again:
	And wedded be thou to the hags of hell,
	For daring to affy a mighty lord
	Unto the daughter of a worthless king,
	Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem.
	By devilish policy art thou grown great,
	And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorged
	With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart.
	By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France,
	The false revolting Normans thorough thee
	Disdain to call us lord, and Picardy
	Hath slain their governors, surprised our forts,
	And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home.
	The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,
	Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain,
	As hating thee, are rising up in arms:
	And now the house of York, thrust from the crown
	By shameful murder of a guiltless king
	And lofty proud encroaching tyranny,
	Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours
	Advance our half-faced sun, striving to shine,
	Under the which is writ 'Invitis nubibus.'
	The commons here in Kent are up in arms:
	And, to conclude, reproach and beggary
	Is crept into the palace of our king.
	And all by thee. Away! convey him hence.

SUFFOLK	O that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder
	Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges!
	Small things make base men proud: this villain here,
	Being captain of a pinnace, threatens more
	Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate.
	Drones suck not eagles' blood but rob beehives:
	It is impossible that I should die
	By such a lowly vassal as thyself.
	Thy words move rage and not remorse in me:
	I go of message from the queen to France;
	I charge thee waft me safely cross the Channel.

Captain	Walter,--

WHITMORE	Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.

SUFFOLK	Gelidus timor occupat artus it is thee I fear.

WHITMORE	Thou shalt have cause to fear before I leave thee.
	What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?

First Gentleman	My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.

SUFFOLK	Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough,
	Used to command, untaught to plead for favour.
	Far be it we should honour such as these
	With humble suit: no, rather let my head
	Stoop to the block than these knees bow to any
	Save to the God of heaven and to my king;
	And sooner dance upon a bloody pole
	Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom.
	True nobility is exempt from fear:
	More can I bear than you dare execute.

Captain	Hale him away, and let him talk no more.

SUFFOLK	Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can,
	That this my death may never be forgot!
	Great men oft die by vile bezonians:
	A Roman sworder and banditto slave
	Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand
	Stabb'd Julius Caesar; savage islanders
	Pompey the Great; and Suffolk dies by pirates.

	[Exeunt Whitmore and others with Suffolk]

Captain	And as for these whose ransom we have set,
	It is our pleasure one of them depart;
	Therefore come you with us and let him go.

	[Exeunt all but the First Gentleman]

	[Re-enter WHITMORE with SUFFOLK's body]

WHITMORE	There let his head and lifeless body lie,
	Until the queen his mistress bury it.

	[Exit]

First Gentleman	O barbarous and bloody spectacle!
	His body will I bear unto the king:
	If he revenge it not, yet will his friends;
	So will the queen, that living held him dear.

	[Exit with the body]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE II	Blackheath.


	[Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND]

BEVIS	Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath;
	they have been up these two days.

HOLLAND	They have the more need to sleep now, then.

BEVIS	I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress
	the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.

HOLLAND	So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say it
	was never merry world in England since gentlemen came up.

BEVIS	O miserable age! virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men.

HOLLAND	The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.

BEVIS	Nay, more, the king's council are no good workmen.

HOLLAND	True; and yet it is said, labour in thy vocation;
	which is as much to say as, let the magistrates be
	labouring men; and therefore should we be
	magistrates.

BEVIS	Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a
	brave mind than a hard hand.

HOLLAND	I see them! I see them! there's Best's son, the
	tanner of Wingham,--

BEVIS	He shall have the skin of our enemies, to make
	dog's-leather of.

HOLLAND	And Dick the Butcher,--

BEVIS	Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's
	throat cut like a calf.

HOLLAND	And Smith the weaver,--

BEVIS	Argo, their thread of life is spun.

HOLLAND	Come, come, let's fall in with them.

	[Drum. Enter CADE, DICK the Butcher, SMITH the
	Weaver, and a Sawyer, with infinite numbers]

CADE	We John Cade, so termed of our supposed father,--

DICK	[Aside]  Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.

CADE	For our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with
	the spirit of putting down kings and princes,
	--Command silence.

DICK	Silence!

CADE	My father was a Mortimer,--

DICK	[Aside]  He was an honest man, and a good
	bricklayer.

CADE	My mother a Plantagenet,--

DICK	[Aside]  I knew her well; she was a midwife.

CADE	My wife descended of the Lacies,--

DICK	[Aside]  She was, indeed, a pedler's daughter, and
	sold many laces.

SMITH	[Aside]  But now of late, notable to travel with her
	furred pack, she washes bucks here at home.

CADE	Therefore am I of an honourable house.

DICK	[Aside]  Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable;
	and there was he borne, under a hedge, for his
	father had never a house but the cage.

CADE	Valiant I am.

SMITH	[Aside]  A' must needs; for beggary is valiant.

CADE	I am able to endure much.

DICK	[Aside]  No question of that; for I have seen him
	whipped three market-days together.

CADE	I fear neither sword nor fire.

SMITH	[Aside]  He need not fear the sword; for his coat is of proof.

DICK	[Aside]  But methinks he should stand in fear of
	fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep.

CADE	Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows
	reformation. There shall be in England seven
	halfpenny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hooped
	pot; shall have ten hoops and I will make it felony
	to drink small beer: all the realm shall be in
	common; and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to
	grass: and when I am king, as king I will be,--

ALL	God save your majesty!

CADE	I thank you, good people: there shall be no money;
	all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will
	apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree
	like brothers and worship me their lord.

DICK	The first thing we do, let's kill all the lawyers.

CADE	Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable
	thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should
	be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled
	o'er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings:
	but I say, 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but seal
	once to a thing, and I was never mine own man
	since. How now! who's there?

	[Enter some, bringing forward the Clerk of Chatham]

SMITH	The clerk of Chatham: he can write and read and
	cast accompt.

CADE	O monstrous!

SMITH	We took him setting of boys' copies.

CADE	Here's a villain!

SMITH	Has a book in his pocket with red letters in't.

CADE	Nay, then, he is a conjurer.

DICK	Nay, he can make obligations, and write court-hand.

CADE	I am sorry for't: the man is a proper man, of mine
	honour; unless I find him guilty, he shall not die.
	Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee: what is thy name?

Clerk	Emmanuel.

DICK	They use to write it on the top of letters: 'twill
	go hard with you.

CADE	Let me alone. Dost thou use to write thy name? or
	hast thou a mark to thyself, like an honest
	plain-dealing man?

CLERK	Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up
	that I can write my name.

ALL	He hath confessed: away with him! he's a villain
	and a traitor.

CADE	Away with him, I say! hang him with his pen and
	ink-horn about his neck.

	[Exit one with the Clerk]

	[Enter MICHAEL]

MICHAEL	Where's our general?

CADE	Here I am, thou particular fellow.

MICHAEL	Fly, fly, fly! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his
	brother are hard by, with the king's forces.

CADE	Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down. He
	shall be encountered with a man as good as himself:
	he is but a knight, is a'?

MICHAEL	No.

CADE	To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently.

	[Kneels]

	Rise up Sir John Mortimer.

	[Rises]

	Now have at him!

	[Enter SIR HUMPHREY and WILLIAM STAFFORD, with
	drum and soldiers]

SIR HUMPHREY	Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent,
	Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down;
	Home to your cottages, forsake this groom:
	The king is merciful, if you revolt.

WILLIAM STAFFORD	But angry, wrathful, and inclined to blood,
	If you go forward; therefore yield, or die.

CADE	As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not:
	It is to you, good people, that I speak,
	Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign;
	For I am rightful heir unto the crown.

SIR HUMPHREY	Villain, thy father was a plasterer;
	And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not?

CADE	And Adam was a gardener.

WILLIAM STAFFORD	And what of that?

CADE	Marry, this: Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March.
	Married the Duke of Clarence' daughter, did he not?

SIR HUMPHREY	Ay, sir.

CADE	By her he had two children at one birth.

WILLIAM STAFFORD	That's false.

CADE	Ay, there's the question; but I say, 'tis true:
	The elder of them, being put to nurse,
	Was by a beggar-woman stolen away;
	And, ignorant of his birth and parentage,
	Became a bricklayer when he came to age:
	His son am I; deny it, if you can.

DICK	Nay, 'tis too true; therefore he shall be king.

SMITH	Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and
	the bricks are alive at this day to testify it;
	therefore deny it not.

SIR HUMPHREY	And will you credit this base drudge's words,
	That speaks he knows not what?

ALL	Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone.

WILLIAM STAFFORD	Jack Cade, the Duke of York hath taught you this.

CADE	[Aside]  He lies, for I invented it myself.
	Go to, sirrah, tell the king from me, that, for his
	father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys
	went to span-counter for French crowns, I am content
	he shall reign; but I'll be protector over him.

DICK	And furthermore, well have the Lord Say's head for
	selling the dukedom of Maine.

CADE	And good reason; for thereby is England mained, and
	fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds
	it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that that Lord Say
	hath gelded the commonwealth, and made it an eunuch:
	and more than that, he can speak French; and
	therefore he is a traitor.

SIR HUMPHREY	O gross and miserable ignorance!

CADE	Nay, answer, if you can: the Frenchmen are our
	enemies; go to, then, I ask but this: can he that
	speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good
	counsellor, or no?

ALL	No, no; and therefore we'll have his head.

WILLIAM STAFFORD	Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail,
	Assail them with the army of the king.

SIR HUMPHREY	Herald, away; and throughout every town
	Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade;
	That those which fly before the battle ends
	May, even in their wives' and children's sight,
	Be hang'd up for example at their doors:
	And you that be the king's friends, follow me.

	[Exeunt WILLIAM STAFFORD and SIR HUMPHREY, and soldiers]

CADE	And you that love the commons, follow me.
	Now show yourselves men; 'tis for liberty.
	We will not leave one lord, one gentleman:
	Spare none but such as go in clouted shoon;
	For they are thrifty honest men, and such
	As would, but that they dare not, take our parts.

DICK	They are all in order and march toward us.

CADE	But then are we in order when we are most
	out of order. Come, march forward.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE III	Another part of Blackheath.


	[Alarums to the fight, wherein SIR HUMPHREY and
	WILLIAM STAFFORD are slain. Enter CADE and the rest]

CADE	Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford?

DICK	Here, sir.

CADE	They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou
	behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own
	slaughter-house: therefore thus will I reward thee,
	the Lent shall be as long again as it is; and thou
	shalt have a licence to kill for a hundred lacking
	one.

DICK	I desire no more.

CADE	And, to speak truth, thou deservest no less. This
	monument of the victory will I bear;

	[Putting on SIR HUMPHREY'S brigandine]

	and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels
	till I do come to London, where we will have the
	mayor's sword borne before us.

DICK	If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the
	gaols and let out the prisoners.

CADE	Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's march
	towards London.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE IV	London. The palace.


	[Enter KING HENRY VI with a supplication, and the
	QUEEN with SUFFOLK'S head, BUCKINGHAM and Lord SAY]

QUEEN MARGARET	Oft have I heard that grief softens the mind,
	And makes it fearful and degenerate;
	Think therefore on revenge and cease to weep.
	But who can cease to weep and look on this?
	Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast:
	But where's the body that I should embrace?

BUCKINGHAM	What answer makes your grace to the rebels'
	supplication?

KING HENRY VI	I'll send some holy bishop to entreat;
	For God forbid so many simple souls
	Should perish by the sword! And I myself,
	Rather than bloody war shall cut them short,
	Will parley with Jack Cade their general:
	But stay, I'll read it over once again.

QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face
	Ruled, like a wandering planet, over me,
	And could it not enforce them to relent,
	That were unworthy to behold the same?

KING HENRY VI	Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.

SAY	Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his.

KING HENRY VI	How now, madam!
	Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death?
	I fear me, love, if that I had been dead,
	Thou wouldst not have mourn'd so much for me.

QUEEN MARGARET	No, my love, I should not mourn, but die for thee.

	[Enter a Messenger]

KING HENRY VI	How now! what news? why comest thou in such haste?

Messenger	The rebels are in Southwark; fly, my lord!
	Jack Cade proclaims himself Lord Mortimer,
	Descended from the Duke of Clarence' house,
	And calls your grace usurper openly
	And vows to crown himself in Westminster.
	His army is a ragged multitude
	Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless:
	Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death
	Hath given them heart and courage to proceed:
	All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen,
	They call false caterpillars, and intend their death.

KING HENRY VI	O graceless men! they know not what they do.

BUCKINGHAM	My gracious lord, return to Killingworth,
	Until a power be raised to put them down.

QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, were the Duke of Suffolk now alive,
	These Kentish rebels would be soon appeased!

KING HENRY VI	Lord Say, the traitors hate thee;
	Therefore away with us to Killingworth.

SAY	So might your grace's person be in danger.
	The sight of me is odious in their eyes;
	And therefore in this city will I stay
	And live alone as secret as I may.

	[Enter another Messenger]

Messenger	Jack Cade hath gotten London bridge:
	The citizens fly and forsake their houses:
	The rascal people, thirsting after prey,
	Join with the traitor, and they jointly swear
	To spoil the city and your royal court.

BUCKINGHAM	Then linger not, my lord, away, take horse.

KING HENRY VI	Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will succor us.

QUEEN MARGARET	My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased.

KING HENRY VI	Farewell, my lord: trust not the Kentish rebels.

BUCKINGHAM	Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd.

SAY	The trust I have is in mine innocence,
	And therefore am I bold and resolute.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE V	London. The Tower.


	[Enter SCALES upon the Tower, walking.
	Then enter two or three Citizens below]

SCALES	How now! is Jack Cade slain?

First Citizen	No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have
	won the bridge, killing all those that withstand
	them: the lord mayor craves aid of your honour from
	the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels.

SCALES	Such aid as I can spare you shall command;
	But I am troubled here with them myself;
	The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower.
	But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,
	And thither I will send you Matthew Goffe;
	Fight for your king, your country and your lives;
	And so, farewell, for I must hence again.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VI	London. Cannon Street.


	[Enter CADE and the rest, and strikes his staff on
	London-stone]

CADE	Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting
	upon London-stone, I charge and command that, of the
	city's cost, the pissing-conduit run nothing but
	claret wine this first year of our reign. And now
	henceforward it shall be treason for any that calls
	me other than Lord Mortimer.

	[Enter a Soldier, running]

Soldier	Jack Cade! Jack Cade!

CADE	Knock him down there.

	[They kill him]

SMITH	If this fellow be wise, he'll never call ye Jack
	Cade more: I think he hath a very fair warning.

DICK	My lord, there's an army gathered together in
	Smithfield.

CADE	Come, then, let's go fight with them; but first, go
	and set London bridge on fire; and, if you can, burn
	down the Tower too. Come, let's away.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VII	London. Smithfield.


	[Alarums. MATTHEW GOFFE is slain, and all the rest.
	Then enter CADE, with his company.

CADE	So, sirs: now go some and pull down the Savoy;
	others to the inns of court; down with them all.

DICK	I have a suit unto your lordship.

CADE	Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.

DICK	Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth.

HOLLAND	[Aside]  Mass, 'twill be sore law, then; for he was
	thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole
	yet.

SMITH	[Aside]  Nay, John, it will be stinking law for his
	breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.

CADE	I have thought upon it, it shall be so. Away, burn
	all the records of the realm: my mouth shall be
	the parliament of England.

HOLLAND	[Aside]  Then we are like to have biting statutes,
	unless his teeth be pulled out.

CADE	And henceforward all things shall be in common.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	My lord, a prize, a prize! here's the Lord Say,
	which sold the towns in France; he that made us pay
	one and twenty fifteens, and one shilling to the
	pound, the last subsidy.

	[Enter BEVIS, with Lord SAY]

CADE	Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. Ah,
	thou say, thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord! now
	art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction
	regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty for
	giving up of Normandy unto Mounsieur Basimecu, the
	dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these
	presence, even the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I
	am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such
	filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously
	corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a
	grammar school; and whereas, before, our forefathers
	had no other books but the score and the tally, thou
	hast caused printing to be used, and, contrary to
	the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a
	paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face that thou
	hast men about thee that usually talk of a noun and
	a verb, and such abominable words as no Christian
	ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed
	justices of peace, to call poor men before them
	about matters they were not able to answer.
	Moreover, thou hast put them in prison; and because
	they could not read, thou hast hanged them; when,
	indeed, only for that cause they have been most
	worthy to live. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost thou not?

SAY	What of that?

CADE	Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a
	cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose
	and doublets.

DICK	And work in their shirt too; as myself, for example,
	that am a butcher.

SAY	You men of Kent,--

DICK	What say you of Kent?

SAY	Nothing but this; 'tis 'bona terra, mala gens.'

CADE	Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin.

SAY	Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will.
	Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ,
	Is term'd the civil'st place of this isle:
	Sweet is the country, because full of riches;
	The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy;
	Which makes me hope you are not void of pity.
	I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy,
	Yet, to recover them, would lose my life.
	Justice with favour have I always done;
	Prayers and tears have moved me, gifts could never.
	When have I aught exacted at your hands,
	But to maintain the king, the realm and you?
	Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks,
	Because my book preferr'd me to the king,
	And seeing ignorance is the curse of God,
	Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven,
	Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits,
	You cannot but forbear to murder me:
	This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings
	For your behoof,--

CADE	Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field?

SAY	Great men have reaching hands: oft have I struck
	Those that I never saw and struck them dead.

BEVIS	O monstrous coward! what, to come behind folks?

SAY	These cheeks are pale for watching for your good.

CADE	Give him a box o' the ear and that will make 'em red again.

SAY	Long sitting to determine poor men's causes
	Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.

CADE	Ye shall have a hempen caudle, then, and the help of hatchet.

DICK	Why dost thou quiver, man?

SAY	The palsy, and not fear, provokes me.

CADE	Nay, he nods at us, as who should say, I'll be even
	with you: I'll see if his head will stand steadier
	on a pole, or no. Take him away, and behead him.

SAY	Tell me wherein have I offended most?
	Have I affected wealth or honour? speak.
	Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold?
	Is my apparel sumptuous to behold?
	Whom have I injured, that ye seek my death?
	These hands are free from guiltless bloodshedding,
	This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts.
	O, let me live!

CADE	[Aside]  I feel remorse in myself with his words;
	but I'll bridle it: he shall die, an it be but for
	pleading so well for his life. Away with him! he
	has a familiar under his tongue; he speaks not o'
	God's name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike
	off his head presently; and then break into his
	son-in-law's house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off
	his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither.

ALL	It shall be done.

SAY	Ah, countrymen! if when you make your prayers,
	God should be so obdurate as yourselves,
	How would it fare with your departed souls?
	And therefore yet relent, and save my life.

CADE	Away with him! and do as I command ye.

	[Exeunt some with Lord SAY]

	The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head
	on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; there
	shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me
	her maidenhead ere they have it: men shall hold of
	me in capite; and we charge and command that their
	wives be as free as heart can wish or tongue can tell.

DICK	My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside and take up
	commodities upon our bills?

CADE	Marry, presently.

ALL	O, brave!

	[Re-enter one with the heads]

CADE	But is not this braver? Let them kiss one another,
	for they loved well when they were alive. Now part
	them again, lest they consult about the giving up of
	some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the
	spoil of the city until night: for with these borne
	before us, instead of maces, will we ride through
	the streets, and at every corner have them kiss. Away!

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VIII	Southwark.


	[Alarum and retreat. Enter CADE and all his
	rabblement]

CADE	Up Fish Street! down Saint Magnus' Corner! Kill
	and knock down! throw them into Thames!

	[Sound a parley]

	What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to
	sound retreat or parley, when I command them kill?

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM and CLIFFORD, attended]

BUCKINGHAM	Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee:
	Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king
	Unto the commons whom thou hast misled;
	And here pronounce free pardon to them all
	That will forsake thee and go home in peace.

CLIFFORD	What say ye, countrymen? will ye relent,
	And yield to mercy whilst 'tis offer'd you;
	Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths?
	Who loves the king and will embrace his pardon,
	Fling up his cap, and say 'God save his majesty!'
	Who hateth him and honours not his father,
	Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake,
	Shake he his weapon at us and pass by.

ALL	God save the king! God save the king!

CADE	What, Buckingham and Clifford, are ye so brave? And
	you, base peasants, do ye believe him? will you
	needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks?
	Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates,
	that you should leave me at the White Hart in
	Southwark? I thought ye would never have given out
	these arms till you had recovered your ancient
	freedom: but you are all recreants and dastards,
	and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let
	them break your backs with burthens, take your
	houses over your heads, ravish your wives and
	daughters before your faces: for me, I will make
	shift for one; and so, God's curse light upon you
	all!

ALL	We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade!

CLIFFORD	Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth,
	That thus you do exclaim you'll go with him?
	Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
	And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?
	Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to;
	Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil,
	Unless by robbing of your friends and us.
	Were't not a shame, that whilst you live at jar,
	The fearful French, whom you late vanquished,
	Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you?
	Methinks already in this civil broil
	I see them lording it in London streets,
	Crying 'Villiago!' unto all they meet.
	Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry
	Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy.
	To France, to France, and get what you have lost;
	Spare England, for it is your native coast;
	Henry hath money, you are strong and manly;
	God on our side, doubt not of victory.

ALL	A Clifford! a Clifford! we'll follow the king and Clifford.

CADE	Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro as this
	multitude? The name of Henry the Fifth hales them
	to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me
	desolate. I see them lay their heads together to
	surprise me. My sword make way for me, for here is
	no staying. In despite of the devils and hell, have
	through the very middest of you? and heavens and
	honour be witness, that no want of resolution in me.
	but only my followers' base and ignominious
	treasons, makes me betake me to my heels.

	[Exit]

BUCKINGHAM	What, is he fled? Go some, and follow him;
	And he that brings his head unto the king
	Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.

	[Exeunt some of them]

	Follow me, soldiers: we'll devise a mean
	To reconcile you all unto the king.

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE IX	Kenilworth Castle.


	[Sound Trumpets. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN
	MARGARET, and SOMERSET, on the terrace]

KING HENRY VI	Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne,
	And could command no more content than I?
	No sooner was I crept out of my cradle
	But I was made a king, at nine months old.
	Was never subject long'd to be a king
	As I do long and wish to be a subject.

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM and CLIFFORD]

BUCKINGHAM	Health and glad tidings to your majesty!

KING HENRY VI	Why, Buckingham, is the traitor Cade surprised?
	Or is he but retired to make him strong?

	[Enter below, multitudes, with halters about
	their necks]

CLIFFORD	He is fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield;
	And humbly thus, with halters on their necks,
	Expect your highness' doom of life or death.

KING HENRY VI	Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates,
	To entertain my vows of thanks and praise!
	Soldiers, this day have you redeemed your lives,
	And show'd how well you love your prince and country:
	Continue still in this so good a mind,
	And Henry, though he be infortunate,
	Assure yourselves, will never be unkind:
	And so, with thanks and pardon to you all,
	I do dismiss you to your several countries.

ALL	God save the king! God save the king!

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Please it your grace to be advertised
	The Duke of York is newly come from Ireland,
	And with a puissant and a mighty power
	Of gallowglasses and stout kerns
	Is marching hitherward in proud array,
	And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
	His arms are only to remove from thee
	The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms traitor.

KING HENRY VI	Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distress'd.
	Like to a ship that, having 'scaped a tempest,
	Is straightway calm'd and boarded with a pirate:
	But now is Cade driven back, his men dispersed;
	And now is York in arms to second him.
	I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him,
	And ask him what's the reason of these arms.
	Tell him I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower;
	And, Somerset, we'll commit thee thither,
	Until his army be dismiss'd from him.

SOMERSET	My lord,
	I'll yield myself to prison willingly,
	Or unto death, to do my country good.

KING HENRY VI	In any case, be not too rough in terms;
	For he is fierce and cannot brook hard language.

BUCKINGHAM	I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal
	As all things shall redound unto your good.

KING HENRY VI	Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better;
	For yet may England curse my wretched reign.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE X	Kent. IDEN's garden.


	[Enter CADE]

CADE	Fie on ambition! fie on myself, that have a sword,
	and yet am ready to famish! These five days have I
	hid me in these woods and durst not peep out, for
	all the country is laid for me; but now am I so
	hungry that if I might have a lease of my life for a
	thousand years I could stay no longer. Wherefore,
	on a brick wall have I climbed into this garden, to
	see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another
	while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach
	this hot weather. And I think this word 'sallet'
	was born to do me good: for many a time, but for a
	sallet, my brainpan had been cleft with a brown
	bill; and many a time, when I have been dry and
	bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a
	quart pot to drink in; and now the word 'sallet'
	must serve me to feed on.

	[Enter IDEN]

IDEN	Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court,
	And may enjoy such quiet walks as these?
	This small inheritance my father left me
	Contenteth me, and worth a monarchy.
	I seek not to wax great by others' waning,
	Or gather wealth, I care not, with what envy:
	Sufficeth that I have maintains my state
	And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.

CADE	Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a
	stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave.
	Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand
	crowns of the king carrying my head to him: but
	I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow
	my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.

IDEN	Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be,
	I know thee not; why, then, should I betray thee?
	Is't not enough to break into my garden,
	And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds,
	Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner,
	But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?

CADE	Brave thee! ay, by the best blood that ever was
	broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I
	have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and
	thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead
	as a doornail, I pray God I may never eat grass more.

IDEN	Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands,
	That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent,
	Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man.
	Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine,
	See if thou canst outface me with thy looks:
	Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser;
	Thy hand is but a finger to my fist,
	Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon;
	My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast;
	And if mine arm be heaved in the air,
	Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.
	As for words, whose greatness answers words,
	Let this my sword report what speech forbears.

CADE	By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I
	heard! Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out
	the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou
	sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God on my knees thou
	mayst be turned to hobnails.

	[Here they fight. CADE falls]

	O, I am slain! famine and no other hath slain me:
	let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me
	but the ten meals I have lost, and I'll defy them
	all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a
	burying-place to all that do dwell in this house,
	because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled.

IDEN	Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor?
	Sword, I will hollow thee for this thy deed,
	And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead:
	Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point;
	But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
	To emblaze the honour that thy master got.

CADE	Iden, farewell, and be proud of thy victory. Tell
	Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort
	all the world to be cowards; for I, that never
	feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour.

	[Dies]

IDEN	How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.
	Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee;
	And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,
	So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
	Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
	Unto a dunghill which shall be thy grave,
	And there cut off thy most ungracious head;
	Which I will bear in triumph to the king,
	Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.

	[Exit]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE I	Fields between Dartford and Blackheath.


	[Enter YORK, and his army of Irish, with drum
	and colours]

YORK	From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right,
	And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head:
	Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright,
	To entertain great England's lawful king.
	Ah! sancta majestas, who would not buy thee dear?
	Let them obey that know not how to rule;
	This hand was made to handle naught but gold.
	I cannot give due action to my words,
	Except a sword or sceptre balance it:
	A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul,
	On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France.

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM]

	Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me?
	The king hath sent him, sure: I must dissemble.

BUCKINGHAM	York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well.

YORK	Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.
	Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?

BUCKINGHAM	A messenger from Henry, our dread liege,
	To know the reason of these arms in peace;
	Or why thou, being a subject as I am,
	Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn,
	Should raise so great a power without his leave,
	Or dare to bring thy force so near the court.

YORK	[Aside]  Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great:
	O, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint,
	I am so angry at these abject terms;
	And now, like Ajax Telamonius,
	On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury.
	I am far better born than is the king,
	More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts:
	But I must make fair weather yet a while,
	Till Henry be more weak and I more strong,--
	Buckingham, I prithee, pardon me,
	That I have given no answer all this while;
	My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
	The cause why I have brought this army hither
	Is to remove proud Somerset from the king,
	Seditious to his grace and to the state.

BUCKINGHAM	That is too much presumption on thy part:
	But if thy arms be to no other end,
	The king hath yielded unto thy demand:
	The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower.

YORK	Upon thine honour, is he prisoner?

BUCKINGHAM	Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.

YORK	Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers.
	Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves;
	Meet me to-morrow in St. George's field,
	You shall have pay and every thing you wish.
	And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry,
	Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons,
	As pledges of my fealty and love;
	I'll send them all as willing as I live:
	Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have,
	Is his to use, so Somerset may die.

BUCKINGHAM	York, I commend this kind submission:
	We twain will go into his highness' tent.

	[Enter KING HENRY VI and Attendants]

KING HENRY VI	Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us,
	That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?

YORK	In all submission and humility
	York doth present himself unto your highness.

KING HENRY VI	Then what intends these forces thou dost bring?

YORK	To heave the traitor Somerset from hence,
	And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade,
	Who since I heard to be discomfited.

	[Enter IDEN, with CADE'S head]

IDEN	If one so rude and of so mean condition
	May pass into the presence of a king,
	Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head,
	The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.

KING HENRY VI	The head of Cade! Great God, how just art Thou!
	O, let me view his visage, being dead,
	That living wrought me such exceeding trouble.
	Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him?

IDEN	I was, an't like your majesty.

KING HENRY VI	How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree?

IDEN	Alexander Iden, that's my name;
	A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king.

BUCKINGHAM	So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss
	He were created knight for his good service.

KING HENRY VI	Iden, kneel down.

	[He kneels]

	Rise up a knight.
	We give thee for reward a thousand marks,
	And will that thou henceforth attend on us.

IDEN	May Iden live to merit such a bounty.
	And never live but true unto his liege!

	[Rises]

	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET and SOMERSET]

KING HENRY VI	See, Buckingham, Somerset comes with the queen:
	Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.

QUEEN MARGARET	For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head,
	But boldly stand and front him to his face.

YORK	How now! is Somerset at liberty?
	Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts,
	And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
	Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?
	False king! why hast thou broken faith with me,
	Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
	King did I call thee? no, thou art not king,
	Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
	Which darest not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor.
	That head of thine doth not become a crown;
	Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
	And not to grace an awful princely sceptre.
	That gold must round engirt these brows of mine,
	Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear,
	Is able with the change to kill and cure.
	Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up
	And with the same to act controlling laws.
	Give place: by heaven, thou shalt rule no more
	O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler.

SOMERSET	O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York,
	Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown;
	Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace.

YORK	Wouldst have me kneel? first let me ask of these,
	If they can brook I bow a knee to man.
	Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail;

	[Exit Attendant]

	I know, ere they will have me go to ward,
	They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.

QUEEN MARGARET	Call hither Clifford! bid him come amain,
	To say if that the bastard boys of York
	Shall be the surety for their traitor father.

	[Exit BUCKINGHAM]

YORK	O blood-besotted Neapolitan,
	Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge!
	The sons of York, thy betters in their birth,
	Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those
	That for my surety will refuse the boys!

	[Enter EDWARD and RICHARD]

	See where they come: I'll warrant they'll
	make it good.

	[Enter CLIFFORD and YOUNG CLIFFORD]

QUEEN MARGARET	And here comes Clifford to deny their bail.

CLIFFORD	Health and all happiness to my lord the king!

	[Kneels]

YORK	I thank thee, Clifford: say, what news with thee?
	Nay, do not fright us with an angry look;
	We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again;
	For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.

CLIFFORD	This is my king, York, I do not mistake;
	But thou mistakest me much to think I do:
	To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad?

KING HENRY VI	Ay, Clifford; a bedlam and ambitious humour
	Makes him oppose himself against his king.

CLIFFORD	He is a traitor; let him to the Tower,
	And chop away that factious pate of his.

QUEEN MARGARET	He is arrested, but will not obey;
	His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.

YORK	Will you not, sons?

EDWARD	Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.

RICHARD	And if words will not, then our weapons shall.

CLIFFORD	Why, what a brood of traitors have we here!

YORK	Look in a glass, and call thy image so:
	I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor.
	Call hither to the stake my two brave bears,
	That with the very shaking of their chains
	They may astonish these fell-lurking curs:
	Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me.

	[Enter the WARWICK and SALISBURY]

CLIFFORD	Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death.
	And manacle the bear-ward in their chains,
	If thou darest bring them to the baiting place.

RICHARD	Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur
	Run back and bite, because he was withheld;
	Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw,
	Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs and cried:
	And such a piece of service will you do,
	If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick.

CLIFFORD	Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump,
	As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!

YORK	Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.

CLIFFORD	Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.

KING HENRY VI	Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
	Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair,
	Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son!
	What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian,
	And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles?
	O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty?
	If it be banish'd from the frosty head,
	Where shall it find a harbour in the earth?
	Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
	And shame thine honourable age with blood?
	Why art thou old, and want'st experience?
	Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it?
	For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me
	That bows unto the grave with mickle age.

SALISBURY	My lord, I have consider'd with myself
	The title of this most renowned duke;
	And in my conscience do repute his grace
	The rightful heir to England's royal seat.

KING HENRY VI	Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?

SALISBURY	I have.

KING HENRY VI	Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath?

SALISBURY	It is great sin to swear unto a sin,
	But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.
	Who can be bound by any solemn vow
	To do a murderous deed, to rob a man,
	To force a spotless virgin's chastity,
	To reave the orphan of his patrimony,
	To wring the widow from her custom'd right,
	And have no other reason for this wrong
	But that he was bound by a solemn oath?

QUEEN MARGARET	A subtle traitor needs no sophister.

KING HENRY VI	Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.

YORK	Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast,
	I am resolved for death or dignity.

CLIFFORD	The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.

WARWICK	You were best to go to bed and dream again,
	To keep thee from the tempest of the field.

CLIFFORD	I am resolved to bear a greater storm
	Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;
	And that I'll write upon thy burgonet,
	Might I but know thee by thy household badge.

WARWICK	Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest,
	The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff,
	This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,
	As on a mountain top the cedar shows
	That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,
	Even to affright thee with the view thereof.

CLIFFORD	And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear
	And tread it under foot with all contempt,
	Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear.

YOUNG CLIFFORD	And so to arms, victorious father,
	To quell the rebels and their complices.

RICHARD	Fie! charity, for shame! speak not in spite,
	For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.

YOUNG CLIFFORD	Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell.

RICHARD	If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.

	[Exeunt severally]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE II	Saint Alban's.


	[Alarums to the battle. Enter WARWICK]

WARWICK	Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls:
	And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
	Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum
	And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,
	Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me:
	Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
	Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.

	[Enter YORK]

	How now, my noble lord? what, all afoot?

YORK	The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed,
	But match to match I have encounter'd him
	And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
	Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.

	[Enter CLIFFORD]

WARWICK	Of one or both of us the time is come.

YORK	Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase,
	For I myself must hunt this deer to death.

WARWICK	Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st.
	As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,
	It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.

	[Exit]

CLIFFORD	What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou pause?

YORK	With thy brave bearing should I be in love,
	But that thou art so fast mine enemy.

CLIFFORD	Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,
	But that 'tis shown ignobly and in treason.

YORK	So let it help me now against thy sword
	As I in justice and true right express it.

CLIFFORD	My soul and body on the action both!

YORK	A dreadful lay! Address thee instantly.

	[They fight, and CLIFFORD falls]

CLIFFORD	La fin couronne les oeuvres.

	[Dies]

YORK	Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.
	Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!

	[Exit]

	[Enter YOUNG CLIFFORD]

YOUNG CLIFFORD	Shame and confusion! all is on the rout;
	Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds
	Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell,
	Whom angry heavens do make their minister
	Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
	Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly.
	He that is truly dedicate to war
	Hath no self-love, nor he that loves himself
	Hath not essentially but by circumstance
	The name of valour.

	[Seeing his dead father]

	O, let the vile world end,
	And the premised flames of the last day
	Knit earth and heaven together!
	Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
	Particularities and petty sounds
	To cease! Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
	To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve
	The silver livery of advised age,
	And, in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus
	To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight
	My heart is turn'd to stone: and while 'tis mine,
	It shall be stony. York not our old men spares;
	No more will I their babes: tears virginal
	Shall be to me even as the dew to fire,
	And beauty that the tyrant oft reclaims
	Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.
	Henceforth I will not have to do with pity:
	Meet I an infant of the house of York,
	Into as many gobbets will I cut it
	As wild Medea young Absyrtus did:
	In cruelty will I seek out my fame.
	Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house:
	As did AEneas old Anchises bear,
	So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;
	But then AEneas bare a living load,
	Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.

	[Exit, bearing off his father]

	[Enter RICHARD and SOMERSET to fight. SOMERSET
	is killed]

RICHARD	So, lie thou there;
	For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,
	The Castle in Saint Alban's, Somerset
	Hath made the wizard famous in his death.
	Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still:
	Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.

	[Exit]

	[Fight: excursions. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN
	MARGARET, and others]

QUEEN MARGARET	Away, my lord! you are slow; for shame, away!

KING HENRY VI	Can we outrun the heavens? good Margaret, stay.

QUEEN MARGARET	What are you made of? you'll nor fight nor fly:
	Now is it manhood, wisdom and defence,
	To give the enemy way, and to secure us
	By what we can, which can no more but fly.

	[Alarum afar off]

	If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom
	Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape,
	As well we may, if not through your neglect,
	We shall to London get, where you are loved
	And where this breach now in our fortunes made
	May readily be stopp'd.

	[Re-enter YOUNG CLIFFORD]

YOUNG CLIFFORD	But that my heart's on future mischief set,
	I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly:
	But fly you must; uncurable discomfit
	Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.
	Away, for your relief! and we will live
	To see their day and them our fortune give:
	Away, my lord, away!

	[Exeunt]




	2 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE III	Fields near St. Alban's.


	[Alarum. Retreat. Enter YORK, RICHARD, WARWICK,
	and Soldiers, with drum and colours]

YORK	Of Salisbury, who can report of him,
	That winter lion, who in rage forgets
	Aged contusions and all brush of time,
	And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,
	Repairs him with occasion? This happy day
	Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
	If Salisbury be lost.

RICHARD	My noble father,
	Three times to-day I holp him to his horse,
	Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off,
	Persuaded him from any further act:
	But still, where danger was, still there I met him;
	And like rich hangings in a homely house,
	So was his will in his old feeble body.
	But, noble as he is, look where he comes.

	[Enter SALISBURY]

SALISBURY	Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to-day;
	By the mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard:
	God knows how long it is I have to live;
	And it hath pleased him that three times to-day
	You have defended me from imminent death.
	Well, lords, we have not got that which we have:
	'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
	Being opposites of such repairing nature.

YORK	I know our safety is to follow them;
	For, as I hear, the king is fled to London,
	To call a present court of parliament.
	Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth.
	What says Lord Warwick? shall we after them?

WARWICK	After them! nay, before them, if we can.
	Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day:
	Saint Alban's battle won by famous York
	Shall be eternized in all age to come.
	Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all:
	And more such days as these to us befall!

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI
	
	

	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING HENRY	the Sixth.

EDWARD,
PRINCE OF WALES	his son. (PRINCE EDWARD:)

KING LEWIS XI	King of France. (KING LEWIS XI:)

DUKE OF SOMERSET	(SOMERSET:)

DUKE OF EXETER	(EXETER:)

EARL OF OXFORD	(OXFORD:)

EARL OF
NORTHUMBERLAND	(NORTHUMBERLAND:)

EARL OF
WESTMORELAND	(WESTMORELAND:)

LORD CLIFFORD	(CLIFFORD:)

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Duke of York. (YORK:)


EDWARD	(EDWARD:) Earl of March,	|
	afterwards King Edward IV.	|
	(KING EDWARD IV:)		|
			|
EDMUND	Earl of Rutland, (RUTLAND:)	|
			|  his sons.
GEORGE	(GEORGE:)  afterwards Duke of	|
	Clarence  (CLARENCE:)	|
			|
RICHARD	(RICHARD:) afterwards Duke of	|
	Gloucester, (GLOUCESTER:)	|


DUKE OF NORFOLK	(NORFOLK:)

MARQUESS OF
MONTAGUE	(MONTAGUE:)

EARL OF WARWICK	(WARWICK:)

EARL OF PEMBROKE	(PEMBROKE:)

LORD HASTINGS	(HASTINGS:)

LORD STAFFORD	(STAFFORD:)


SIR JOHN MORTIMER	(JOHN MORTIMER:)	|
		|  uncles to the Duke of York.
SIR HUGH MORTIMER	(HUGH MORTIMER:)	|


HENRY	Earl of Richmond, a youth (HENRY OF RICHMOND:).

LORD RIVERS	brother to Lady Grey. (RIVERS:)

SIR
WILLIAM STANLEY	(STANLEY:)

SIR
JOHN MONTGOMERY	(MONTGOMERY:)

SIR
JOHN SOMERVILLE	(SOMERVILLE:)

	Tutor to Rutland. (Tutor:)

	Mayor of York. (Mayor:)

	Lieutenant of the Tower. (Lieutenant:)

	A Nobleman. (Nobleman:)

	Two Keepers.
	(First Keeper:)
	(Second Keeper:)

	A Huntsman. (Huntsman:)

	A Son that has killed his father. (Son:)

	A Father that has killed his son. (Father:)

QUEEN MARGARET:

LADY GREY	afterwards Queen to Edward IV. (QUEEN ELIZABETH:)

BONA	sister to the French Queen.

	Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Watchmen, &c.
	(Soldier:)
	(Post:)
	(Messenger:)
	(First Messenger:)
	(Second Messenger:)
	(First Watchman:)
	(Second Watchman:)
	(Third Watchman:)


SCENE	England and France.




ACT I



SCENE I	London. The Parliament-house.


	[Alarum. Enter YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK,
	MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers]

WARWICK	I wonder how the king escaped our hands.

YORK	While we pursued the horsemen of the north,
	He slily stole away and left his men:
	Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
	Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
	Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself,
	Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
	Charged our main battle's front, and breaking in
	Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.

EDWARD	Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham,
	Is either slain or wounded dangerously;
	I cleft his beaver with a downright blow:
	That this is true, father, behold his blood.

MONTAGUE	And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's blood,
	Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.

RICHARD	Speak thou for me and tell them what I did.

	[Throwing down SOMERSET's head]

YORK	Richard hath best deserved of all my sons.
	But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?

NORFOLK	Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt!

RICHARD	Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head.

WARWICK	And so do I. Victorious Prince of York,
	Before I see thee seated in that throne
	Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
	I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
	This is the palace of the fearful king,
	And this the regal seat: possess it, York;
	For this is thine and not King Henry's heirs'

YORK	Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will;
	For hither we have broken in by force.

NORFOLK	We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die.

YORK	Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, my lords;
	And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night.

	[They go up]

WARWICK	And when the king comes, offer no violence,
	Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.

YORK	The queen this day here holds her parliament,
	But little thinks we shall be of her council:
	By words or blows here let us win our right.

RICHARD	Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this house.

WARWICK	The bloody parliament shall this be call'd,
	Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king,
	And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice
	Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

YORK	Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute;
	I mean to take possession of my right.

WARWICK	Neither the king, nor he that loves him best,
	The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
	Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.
	I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares:
	Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.

	[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, CLIFFORD,
	NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and the rest]

KING HENRY VI	My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits,
	Even in the chair of state: belike he means,
	Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer,
	To aspire unto the crown and reign as king.
	Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father.
	And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge
	On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends.

NORTHUMBERLAND	If I be not, heavens be revenged on me!

CLIFFORD	The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.

WESTMORELAND	What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down:
	My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it.

KING HENRY VI	Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland.

CLIFFORD	Patience is for poltroons, such as he:
	He durst not sit there, had your father lived.
	My gracious lord, here in the parliament
	Let us assail the family of York.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Well hast thou spoken, cousin: be it so.

KING HENRY VI	Ah, know you not the city favours them,
	And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?

EXETER	But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly.

KING HENRY VI	Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart,
	To make a shambles of the parliament-house!
	Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats
	Shall be the war that Henry means to use.
	Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne,
	and kneel for grace and mercy at my feet;
	I am thy sovereign.

YORK	I am thine.

EXETER	For shame, come down: he made thee Duke of York.

YORK	'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was.

EXETER	Thy father was a traitor to the crown.

WARWICK	Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown
	In following this usurping Henry.

CLIFFORD	Whom should he follow but his natural king?

WARWICK	True, Clifford; and that's Richard Duke of York.

KING HENRY VI	And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne?

YORK	It must and shall be so: content thyself.

WARWICK	Be Duke of Lancaster; let him be king.

WESTMORELAND	He is both king and Duke of Lancaster;
	And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.

WARWICK	And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget
	That we are those which chased you from the field
	And slew your fathers, and with colours spread
	March'd through the city to the palace gates.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief;
	And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.

WESTMORELAND	Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,
	Thy kinsman and thy friends, I'll have more lives
	Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.

CLIFFORD	Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words,
	I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger
	As shall revenge his death before I stir.

WARWICK	Poor Clifford! how I scorn his worthless threats!

YORK	Will you we show our title to the crown?
	If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.

KING HENRY VI	What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown?
	Thy father 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 Dauphin and the French to stoop
	And seized upon their towns and provinces.

WARWICK	Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.

KING HENRY VI	The lord protector lost it, and not I:
	When I was crown'd I was but nine months old.

RICHARD	You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose.
	Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head.

EDWARD	Sweet father, do so; set it on your head.

MONTAGUE	Good brother, as thou lovest and honourest arms,
	Let's fight it out and not stand cavilling thus.

RICHARD	Sound drums and trumpets, and the king will fly.

YORK	Sons, peace!

KING HENRY VI	Peace, thou! and give King Henry leave to speak.

WARWICK	Plantagenet shall speak first: hear him, lords;
	And be you silent and attentive too,
	For he that interrupts him shall not live.

KING HENRY VI	Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne,
	Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?
	No: first shall war unpeople this my realm;
	Ay, and their colours, often borne in France,
	And now in England to our heart's great sorrow,
	Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords?
	My title's good, and better far than his.

WARWICK	Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king.

KING HENRY VI	Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.

YORK	'Twas by rebellion against his king.

KING HENRY VI	[Aside]  I know not what to say; my title's weak.--
	Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?

YORK	What then?

KING HENRY VI	An if he may, then am I lawful king;
	For Richard, in the view of many lords,
	Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth,
	Whose heir my father was, and I am his.

YORK	He rose against him, being his sovereign,
	And made him to resign his crown perforce.

WARWICK	Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd,
	Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown?

EXETER	No; for he could not so resign his crown
	But that the next heir should succeed and reign.

KING HENRY VI	Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?

EXETER	His is the right, and therefore pardon me.

YORK	Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?

EXETER	My conscience tells me he is lawful king.

KING HENRY VI	[Aside]  All will revolt from me, and turn to him.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st,
	Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.

WARWICK	Deposed he shall be, in despite of all.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Thou art deceived: 'tis not thy southern power,
	Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
	Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,
	Can set the duke up in despite of me.

CLIFFORD	King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,
	Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence:
	May that ground gape and swallow me alive,
	Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father!

KING HENRY VI	O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!

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

WARWICK	Do right unto this princely Duke of York,
	Or I will fill the house with armed men,
	And over the chair of state, where now he sits,
	Write up his title with usurping blood.

	[He stamps with his foot and the soldiers show
	themselves]

KING HENRY VI	My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word:
	Let me for this my life-time reign as king.

YORK	Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs,
	And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest.

KING HENRY VI	I am content: Richard Plantagenet,
	Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.

CLIFFORD	What wrong is this unto the prince your son!

WARWICK	What good is this to England and himself!

WESTMORELAND	Base, fearful and despairing Henry!

CLIFFORD	How hast thou injured both thyself and us!

WESTMORELAND	I cannot stay to hear these articles.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Nor I.

CLIFFORD	Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these news.

WESTMORELAND	Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king,
	In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Be thou a prey unto the house of York,
	And die in bands for this unmanly deed!

CLIFFORD	In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,
	Or live in peace abandon'd and despised!

	[Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD, and WESTMORELAND]

WARWICK	Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not.

EXETER	They seek revenge and therefore will not yield.

KING HENRY VI	Ah, Exeter!

WARWICK	          Why should you sigh, my lord?

KING HENRY VI	Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son,
	Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
	But be it as it may: I here entail
	The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever;
	Conditionally, that here thou take an oath
	To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live,
	To honour me as thy king and sovereign,
	And neither by treason nor hostility
	To seek to put me down and reign thyself.

YORK	This oath I willingly take and will perform.

WARWICK	Long live King Henry! Plantagenet embrace him.

KING HENRY VI	And long live thou and these thy forward sons!

YORK	Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.

EXETER	Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes!

	[Sennet. Here they come down]

YORK	Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle.

WARWICK	And I'll keep London with my soldiers.

NORFOLK	And I to Norfolk with my followers.

MONTAGUE	And I unto the sea from whence I came.

	[Exeunt YORK, EDWARD, EDMUND, GEORGE, RICHARD,
	WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, their Soldiers, and
	Attendants]

KING HENRY VI	And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court.

	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET and PRINCE EDWARD]

EXETER	Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger:
	I'll steal away.

KING HENRY VI	                  Exeter, so will I.

QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee.

KING HENRY VI	Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay.

QUEEN MARGARET	Who can be patient in such extremes?
	Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid
	And never seen thee, never borne thee son,
	Seeing thou hast 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 pain which I did for him once,
	Or nourish'd him as I did with my blood,
	Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there,
	Rather than have that savage duke thine heir
	And disinherited thine only son.

PRINCE EDWARD	Father, you cannot disinherit me:
	If you be king, why should not I succeed?

KING HENRY VI	Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son:
	The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me.

QUEEN MARGARET	Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced?
	I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch!
	Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me;
	And given unto the house of York such head
	As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
	To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
	What is it, but to make thy sepulchre
	And creep into it far before thy time?
	Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais;
	Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas;
	The duke is made protector of the realm;
	And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds
	The trembling lamb environed with wolves.
	Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
	The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes
	Before I would have granted to that act.
	But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour:
	And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
	Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
	Until that act of parliament be repeal'd
	Whereby my son is disinherited.
	The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours
	Will follow mine, if once they see them spread;
	And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace
	And utter ruin of the house of York.
	Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let's away;
	Our army is ready; come, we'll after them.

KING HENRY VI	Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.

QUEEN MARGARET	Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone.

KING HENRY VI	Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?

QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies.

PRINCE EDWARD	When I return with victory from the field
	I'll see your grace: till then I'll follow her.

QUEEN MARGARET	Come, son, away; we may not linger thus.

	[Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET and PRINCE EDWARD]

KING HENRY VI	Poor queen! how love to me and to her son
	Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
	Revenged may she be on that hateful duke,
	Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
	Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle
	Tire 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.
	Come, cousin you shall be the messenger.

EXETER	And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE II	Sandal Castle.


	[Enter RICHARD, EDWARD, and MONTAGUE]

RICHARD	Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.

EDWARD	No, I can better play the orator.

MONTAGUE	But I have reasons strong and forcible.

	[Enter YORK]

YORK	Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife?
	What is your quarrel? how began it first?

EDWARD	No quarrel, but a slight contention.

YORK	About what?

RICHARD	About that which concerns your grace and us;
	The crown of England, father, which is yours.

YORK	Mine boy? not till King Henry be dead.

RICHARD	Your right depends not on his life or death.

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

YORK	I took an oath that he should quietly reign.

EDWARD	But for a kingdom any oath may be broken:
	I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.

RICHARD	No; God forbid your grace should be forsworn.

YORK	I shall be, if I claim by open war.

RICHARD	I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak.

YORK	Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.

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

YORK	Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.
	Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
	And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.
	Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk,
	And tell him privily of our intent.
	You Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham,
	With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise:
	In them I trust; for they are soldiers,
	Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
	While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more,
	But that I seek occasion how to rise,
	And yet the king not privy to my drift,
	Nor any of the house of Lancaster?

	[Enter a Messenger]

	But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post?

Messenger	The queen with all the northern earls and lords
	Intend here to besiege you in your castle:
	She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
	And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.

YORK	Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou that we fear them?
	Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
	My brother Montague shall post to London:
	Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
	Whom we have left protectors of the king,
	With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
	And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.

MONTAGUE	Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not:
	And thus most humbly I do take my leave.

	[Exit]

	[Enter JOHN MORTIMER and HUGH MORTIMER]

	Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
	You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
	The army of the queen mean to besiege us.

JOHN MORTIMER	She shall not need; we'll meet her in the field.

YORK	What, with five thousand men?

RICHARD	Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need:
	A woman's general; what should we fear?

	[A march afar off]

EDWARD	I hear their drums: let's set our men in order,
	And issue forth and bid them battle straight.

YORK	Five men to twenty! though the odds be great,
	I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
	Many a battle have I won in France,
	When as the enemy hath been ten to one:
	Why should I not now have the like success?

	[Alarum. Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE III	Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield.


	[Alarums. Enter RUTLAND and his Tutor]

RUTLAND	Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands?
	Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes!

	[Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers]

CLIFFORD	Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
	As for the brat of this accursed duke,
	Whose father slew my father, he shall die.

Tutor	And I, my lord, will bear him company.

CLIFFORD	Soldiers, away with him!

Tutor	Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
	Lest thou be hated both of God and man!

	[Exit, dragged off by Soldiers]

CLIFFORD	How now! is he dead already? or is it fear
	That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them.

RUTLAND	So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
	That trembles under his devouring paws;
	And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey,
	And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
	Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
	And not with such a cruel threatening look.
	Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
	I am too mean a subject for thy wrath:
	Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.

CLIFFORD	In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood
	Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.

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

CLIFFORD	Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine
	Were not revenge sufficient for me;
	No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves
	And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
	It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
	The sight of any of the house of York
	Is as a fury to torment my soul;
	And till I root out their accursed line
	And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
	Therefore--

	[Lifting his hand]

RUTLAND	O, let me pray before I take my death!
	To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!

CLIFFORD	Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

RUTLAND	I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me?

CLIFFORD	Thy father hath.

RUTLAND	                  But 'twas ere I was born.
	Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me,
	Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
	He be as miserably slain as I.
	Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
	And when I give occasion of offence,
	Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.

CLIFFORD	No cause!
	Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.

	[Stabs him]

RUTLAND	Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae!

	[Dies]

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

	[Exit]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE IV	Another part of the field.


	[Alarum. Enter YORK]

YORK	The army of the queen hath got the field:
	My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
	And all my followers to the eager foe
	Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind
	Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves.
	My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them:
	But this I know, they have demean'd themselves
	Like men born to renown by life or death.
	Three times did Richard make a lane to me.
	And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out!'
	And full as oft came Edward to my side,
	With purple falchion, painted to the hilt
	In blood of those that had encounter'd him:
	And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
	Richard cried 'Charge! and give no foot of ground!'
	And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
	A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!'
	With this, we charged again: but, out, alas!
	We bodged again; as I have seen a swan
	With bootless labour swim against the tide
	And spend her strength with over-matching waves.

	[A short alarum within]

	Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue;
	And I am faint and cannot fly their fury:
	And were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
	The sands are number'd that make up my life;
	Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND,
	PRINCE EDWARD, and Soldiers]

	Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
	I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
	I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.

CLIFFORD	Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm,
	With downright payment, show'd unto my father.
	Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car,
	And made an evening at the noontide prick.

YORK	My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth
	A bird that will revenge upon you all:
	And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,
	Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.
	Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear?

CLIFFORD	So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
	So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;
	So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
	Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.

YORK	O Clifford, but bethink thee once again,
	And in thy thought o'er-run my former time;
	And, if though canst for blushing, view this face,
	And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice
	Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this!

CLIFFORD	I will not bandy with thee word for word,
	But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.

QUEEN MARGARET	Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes
	I would prolong awhile the traitor's life.
	Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much
	To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:
	What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
	For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
	When he might spurn him with his foot away?
	It is war's prize to take all vantages;
	And ten to one is no impeach of valour.

	[They lay hands on YORK, who struggles]

CLIFFORD	Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.

NORTHUMBERLAND	So doth the cony struggle in the net.

YORK	So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty;
	So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd.

NORTHUMBERLAND	What would your grace have done unto him now?

QUEEN MARGARET	Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
	Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
	That raught at mountains with outstretched arms,
	Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
	What! was it you that would be England's king?
	Was't you that revell'd in our parliament,
	And made a preachment of your high descent?
	Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
	The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
	And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy,
	Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice
	Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
	Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
	Look, York: I stain'd this napkin with the blood
	That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point,
	Made issue from the bosom of the boy;
	And if thine eyes can water for his death,
	I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
	Alas poor York! but that I hate thee deadly,
	I should lament thy miserable state.
	I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York.
	What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails
	That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?
	Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad;
	And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
	Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
	Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport:
	York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.
	A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him:
	Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.

	[Putting a paper crown on his head]

	Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!
	Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair,
	And this is he was his adopted heir.
	But how is it that great Plantagenet
	Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath?
	As I bethink me, you should not be king
	Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.
	And will you pale your head in Henry's glory,
	And rob his temples of the diadem,
	Now in his life, against your holy oath?
	O, 'tis a fault too too unpardonable!
	Off with the crown, and with the crown his head;
	And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.

CLIFFORD	That is my office, for my father's sake.

QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, stay; lets hear the orisons he makes.

YORK	She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,
	Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth!
	How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex
	To triumph, like an Amazonian trull,
	Upon their woes whom fortune captivates!
	But that thy face is, vizard-like, unchanging,
	Made impudent with use of evil deeds,
	I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush.
	To tell thee whence thou camest, of whom derived,
	Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shameless.
	Thy father bears the type of King of Naples,
	Of both the Sicils and Jerusalem,
	Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
	Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?
	It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen,
	Unless the adage must be verified,
	That beggars mounted run their horse to death.
	'Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud;
	But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small:
	'Tis virtue that doth make them most admired;
	The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at:
	'Tis government that makes them seem divine;
	The want thereof makes thee abominable:
	Thou art as opposite to every good
	As the Antipodes are unto us,
	Or as the south to the septentrion.
	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,
	And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
	Women are soft, mild, pitiful and flexible;
	Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
	Bids't thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish:
	Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will:
	For raging wind blows up incessant showers,
	And when the rage allays, the rain begins.
	These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies:
	And every drop cries vengeance for his death,
	'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false
	Frenchwoman.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Beshrew me, but his passion moves me so
	That hardly can I cheque my eyes from tears.

YORK	That face of his the hungry cannibals
	Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood:
	But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,
	O, ten times more, than tigers of Hyrcania.
	See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears:
	This cloth thou dip'dst in blood of my sweet boy,
	And I with tears do wash the blood away.
	Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this:
	And if thou tell'st the heavy 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 piteous deed!'
	There, take the crown, and, with the crown, my curse;
	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!

NORTHUMBERLAND	Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin,
	I should not for my life but weep with him.
	To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.

QUEEN MARGARET	What, weeping-ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
	Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
	And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.

CLIFFORD	Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death.

	[Stabbing him]


QUEEN MARGARET	And here's to right our gentle-hearted king.

	[Stabbing him]

YORK	Open Thy gate of mercy, gracious God!
	My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee.

	[Dies]

QUEEN MARGARET	Off with his head, and set it on York gates;
	So York may overlook the town of York.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE I	A plain near Mortimer's Cross in Herefordshire.


	[A march. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and their power]

EDWARD	I wonder how our princely father 'scaped,
	Or whether he be 'scaped away or no
	From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit:
	Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news;
	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?

RICHARD	I cannot joy, until I be resolved
	Where our right valiant father is become.
	I saw him in the battle range about;
	And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth.
	Methought he bore him in the thickest troop
	As doth a lion in a herd of neat;
	Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,
	Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry,
	The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him.
	So fared our father with his enemies;
	So fled his enemies my warlike father:
	Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son.
	See how the morning opes her golden gates,
	And takes her farewell of the glorious sun!
	How well resembles it the prime of youth,
	Trimm'd like a younker prancing to his love!

EDWARD	Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?

RICHARD	Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun;
	Not separated with the racking clouds,
	But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
	See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
	As if they vow'd some league inviolable:
	Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
	In this the heaven figures some event.

EDWARD	'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of.
	I think it cites us, brother, to the field,
	That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet,
	Each one already blazing by our meeds,
	Should notwithstanding join our lights together
	And over-shine the earth as this the world.
	Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
	Upon my target three fair-shining suns.

RICHARD	Nay, bear three daughters: by your leave I speak it,
	You love the breeder better than the male.

	[Enter a Messenger]

	But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell
	Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?

Messenger	Ah, one that was a woful looker-on
	When as the noble Duke of York was slain,
	Your princely father and my loving lord!

EDWARD	O, speak no more, for I have heard too much.

RICHARD	Say how he died, for I will hear it all.

Messenger	Environed he was with many foes,
	And stood against them, as the hope of Troy
	Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy.
	But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
	And many strokes, though with a little axe,
	Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
	By many hands your father was subdued;
	But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
	Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen,
	Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite,
	Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept,
	The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks
	A napkin steeped in the harmless blood
	Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain:
	And after many scorns, many foul taunts,
	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 view'd.

EDWARD	Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon,
	Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.
	O Clifford, boisterous Clifford! thou hast slain
	The flower of Europe for his chivalry;
	And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him,
	For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee.
	Now my soul's palace is become a prison:
	Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body
	Might in the ground be closed up in rest!
	For never henceforth shall I joy again,
	Never, O never shall I see more joy!

RICHARD	 I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture
	Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart:
	Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen;
	For selfsame wind that I should speak withal
	Is kindling coals that fires all my breast,
	And burns me up with flames that tears would quench.
	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 venge thy death,
	Or die renowned by attempting it.

EDWARD	His name that valiant duke hath left with thee;
	His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

RICHARD	Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird,
	Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun:
	For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say;
	Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.

	[March. Enter WARWICK, MONTAGUE, and their army]

WARWICK	How now, fair lords! What fare? what news abroad?

RICHARD	Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount
	Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance
	Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,
	The words would add more anguish than the wounds.
	O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain!

EDWARD	O Warwick, Warwick! that Plantagenet,
	Which held three dearly as his soul's redemption,
	Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.

WARWICK	Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears;
	And now, to add more measure to your woes,
	I come to tell you things sith then befall'n.
	After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
	Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp,
	Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
	Were brought me of your loss and his depart.
	I, then in London keeper of the king,
	Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends,
	And very well appointed, as I thought,
	March'd toward Saint Alban's to intercept the queen,
	Bearing the king in my behalf along;
	For by my scouts I was advertised
	That she was coming with a full intent
	To dash our late decree in parliament
	Touching King Henry's oath and your succession.
	Short tale to make, we at Saint Alban's met
	Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought:
	But whether 'twas the coldness of the king,
	Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen,
	That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen;
	Or whether 'twas report of her success;
	Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,
	Who thunders to his captives blood and death,
	I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth,
	Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
	Our soldiers', like the night-owl's lazy flight,
	Or like an idle thresher with a flail,
	Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
	I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
	With promise of high pay and great rewards:
	But all in vain; they had no heart to fight,
	And we in them no hope to win the day;
	So that we fled; the king unto the queen;
	Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself,
	In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you:
	For in the marches here we heard you were,
	Making another head to fight again.

EDWARD	Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick?
	And when came George from Burgundy to England?

WARWICK	Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers;
	And for your brother, he was lately sent
	From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy,
	With aid of soldiers to this needful war.

RICHARD	'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled:
	Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
	But ne'er till now his scandal of retire.

WARWICK	Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear;
	For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine
	Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head,
	And wring the awful sceptre from his fist,
	Were he as famous and as bold in war
	As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.

RICHARD	I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not:
	'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak.
	But in this troublous time what's to be done?
	Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
	And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
	Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads?
	Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
	Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?
	If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords.

WARWICK	Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out;
	And therefore comes my brother Montague.
	Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen,
	With Clifford and the haught Northumberland,
	And of their feather many more proud birds,
	Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax.
	He swore consent to your succession,
	His oath enrolled in the parliament;
	And now to London all the crew are gone,
	To frustrate both his oath and what beside
	May make against the house of Lancaster.
	Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong:
	Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself,
	With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March,
	Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,
	Will but amount to five and twenty thousand,
	Why, Via! to London will we march amain,
	And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
	And once again cry 'Charge upon our foes!'
	But never once again turn back and fly.

RICHARD	Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak:
	Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day,
	That cries 'Retire,' if Warwick bid him stay.

EDWARD	Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean;
	And when thou fail'st--as God forbid the hour!--
	Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend!

WARWICK	No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York:
	The next degree is England's royal throne;
	For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
	In every borough as we pass along;
	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.

RICHARD	Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel,
	As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,
	I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.

EDWARD	Then strike up drums: God and Saint George for us!

	[Enter a Messenger]

WARWICK	How now! what news?

Messenger	The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me,
	The queen is coming with a puissant host;
	And craves your company for speedy counsel.

WARWICK	Why then it sorts, brave warriors, let's away.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE II	Before York.


	[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, QUEEN MARGARET,
	PRINCE EDWARD, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with
	drum and trumpets]

QUEEN MARGARET	Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York.
	Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy
	That sought to be encompass'd with your crown:
	Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?

KING HENRY VI	Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck:
	To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
	Withhold revenge, dear God! 'tis not my fault,
	Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.

CLIFFORD	My gracious liege, this too much lenity
	And harmful pity must be laid aside.
	To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
	Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
	Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?
	Not his that spoils her young before her face.
	Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting?
	Not he that sets his foot upon her back.
	The smallest worm will turn being trodden on,
	And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
	Ambitious York doth level at thy crown,
	Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows:
	He, but a duke, would have his son a king,
	And raise his issue, like a loving sire;
	Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son,
	Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
	Which argued thee a most unloving father.
	Unreasonable creatures feed their young;
	And though man's face be fearful to their eyes,
	Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
	Who hath not seen them, even with those wings
	Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,
	Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest,
	Offer their own lives in their young's defence?
	For shame, my liege, make them your precedent!
	Were it not pity that this goodly boy
	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 fondly gave away'?
	Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy;
	And let his manly face, which promiseth
	Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart
	To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.

KING HENRY VI	Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator,
	Inferring arguments of mighty force.
	But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear
	That things ill-got had ever bad success?
	And happy always was it for that son
	Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?
	I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;
	And would my father had left me no more!
	For all the rest is held at such a rate
	As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep
	Than in possession and jot of pleasure.
	Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know
	How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

QUEEN MARGARET	My lord, cheer up your spirits: our foes are nigh,
	And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
	You promised knighthood to our forward son:
	Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently.
	Edward, kneel down.

KING HENRY VI	Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight;
	And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right.

PRINCE	My gracious father, by your kingly leave,
	I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,
	And in that quarrel use it to the death.

CLIFFORD	Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Royal commanders, be in readiness:
	For with a band of thirty thousand men
	Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York;
	And in the towns, as they do march along,
	Proclaims him king, and many fly to him:
	Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.

CLIFFORD	I would your highness would depart the field:
	The queen hath best success when you are absent.

QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.

KING HENRY VI	Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay.

NORTHUMBERLAND	Be it with resolution then to fight.

PRINCE EDWARD	My royal father, cheer these noble lords
	And hearten those that fight in your defence:
	Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry 'Saint George!'

	[March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK,
	NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers]

EDWARD	Now, perjured Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace,
	And set thy diadem upon my head;
	Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

QUEEN MARGARET	Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!
	Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
	Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?

EDWARD	I am his king, and he should bow his knee;
	I was adopted heir by his consent:
	Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear,
	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.

CLIFFORD	And reason too:
	Who should succeed the father but the son?

RICHARD	Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!

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

RICHARD	'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not?

CLIFFORD	Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.

RICHARD	For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight.

WARWICK	What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?

QUEEN MARGARET	Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick! dare you speak?
	When you and I met at Saint Alban's last,
	Your legs did better service than your hands.

WARWICK	Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.

CLIFFORD	You said so much before, and yet you fled.

WARWICK	'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.

NORTHUMBERLAND	No, nor your manhood that durst make you stay.

RICHARD	Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.
	Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain
	The execution of my big-swoln heart
	Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

CLIFFORD	I slew thy father, call'st thou him a child?

RICHARD	Ay, like a dastard and a treacherous coward,
	As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland;
	But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed.

KING HENRY VI	Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

QUEEN MARGARET	Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.

KING HENRY VI	I prithee, give no limits to my tongue:
	I am a king, and privileged to speak.

CLIFFORD	My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here
	Cannot be cured by words; therefore be still.

RICHARD	Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword:
	By him that made us all, I am resolved
	that Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

EDWARD	Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no?
	A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day,
	That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.

WARWICK	If thou deny, their blood upon thy head;
	For York in justice puts his armour on.

PRINCE EDWARD	If that be right which Warwick says is right,
	There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

RICHARD	Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands;
	For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.

QUEEN MARGARET	But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam;
	But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic,
	Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided,
	As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings.

RICHARD	Iron of Naples hid with English gilt,
	Whose father bears the title of a king,--
	As if a channel should be call'd the sea,--
	Shamest thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
	To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart?

EDWARD	A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns,
	To make this shameless callet know herself.
	Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,
	Although thy husband may be Menelaus;
	And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd
	By that false woman, as this king by thee.
	His father revell'd in the heart of France,
	And tamed the king, and made the dauphin stoop;
	And had he match'd according to his state,
	He might have kept that glory to this day;
	But when he took a beggar to his bed,
	And graced thy poor sire with his bridal-day,
	Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him,
	That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,
	And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.
	For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride?
	Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept;
	And we, in pity of the gentle king,
	Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

GEORGE	But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring,
	And that thy summer bred us no increase,
	We set the axe to thy usurping root;
	And though the edge hath something 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.

EDWARD	And, in this resolution, I defy thee;
	Not willing any longer conference,
	Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak.
	Sound trumpets! let our bloody colours wave!
	And either victory, or else a grave.

QUEEN MARGARET	Stay, Edward.

EDWARD	No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay:
	These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE III	A field of battle between Towton and Saxton, in
	Yorkshire.


	[Alarum. Excursions. Enter WARWICK]

WARWICK	Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,
	I lay me down a little while to breathe;
	For strokes received, and many blows repaid,
	Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength,
	And spite of spite needs must I rest awhile.

	[Enter EDWARD, running]

EDWARD	Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death!
	For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded.

WARWICK	How now, my lord! what hap? what hope of good?

	[Enter GEORGE]

GEORGE	Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair;
	Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us:
	What counsel give you? whither shall we fly?

EDWARD	Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings;
	And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.

	[Enter RICHARD]

RICHARD	Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?
	Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
	Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance;
	And in the very pangs of death he cried,
	Like to a dismal clangour heard from far,
	'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!'
	So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
	That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
	The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

WARWICK	Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:
	I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.
	Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
	Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage;
	And look upon, as if the tragedy
	Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
	Here on my knee I vow to God above,
	I'll never pause again, never stand still,
	Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine
	Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

EDWARD	O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine;
	And in this vow do chain my soul to thine!
	And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
	I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
	Thou setter up and plucker down of kings,
	Beseeching thee, if with they will it stands
	That to my foes this body must be prey,
	Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,
	And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!
	Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
	Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth.

RICHARD	Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick,
	Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:
	I, that did never weep, now melt with woe
	That winter should cut off our spring-time so.

WARWICK	Away, away! Once more, sweet lords farewell.

GEORGE	Yet let us all together to our troops,
	And give them leave to fly that will not stay;
	And call them pillars that will stand to us;
	And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards
	As victors wear at the Olympian games:
	This may plant courage in their quailing breasts;
	For yet is hope of life and victory.
	Forslow no longer, make we hence amain.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE IV	Another part of the field.


	[Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD]

RICHARD	Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone:
	Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York,
	And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge,
	Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.

CLIFFORD	Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone:
	This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York;
	And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland;
	And here's the heart that triumphs in their death
	And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother
	To execute the like upon thyself;
	And so, have at thee!

	[They fight. WARWICK comes; CLIFFORD flies]

RICHARD	Nay Warwick, single out some other chase;
	For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE V	Another part of the field.


	[Alarum. Enter KING HENRY VI alone]

KING HENRY VI	This battle fares like to the morning's war,
	When dying clouds contend with growing light,
	What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
	Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
	Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
	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 flood prevails, and then the wind;
	Now one the better, then another best;
	Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
	Yet neither conqueror nor conquered:
	So is the equal of this fell war.
	Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
	To whom God will, there be the victory!
	For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
	Have chid me from the battle; swearing both
	They prosper best of all when I am thence.
	Would I were dead! if God's good will were so;
	For what is in this world but grief and woe?
	O God! methinks it were a happy life,
	To be no better than a homely swain;
	To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
	To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
	Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
	How many make the hour full complete;
	How many hours bring about the day;
	How many days will finish up the year;
	How many years a mortal man may live.
	When this is known, then to divide the times:
	So many hours must I tend my flock;
	So many hours must I take my rest;
	So many hours must I contemplate;
	So many hours must I sport myself;
	So many days my ewes have been with young;
	So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean:
	So many years ere I shall shear the fleece:
	So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
	Pass'd over to the end they were created,
	Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
	Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!
	Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade
	To shepherds looking on their silly sheep,
	Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
	To kings that fear their subjects' treachery?
	O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
	And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds,
	His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle.
	His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
	All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
	Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
	His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
	His body couched in a curious bed,
	When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.

	[Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father,
	dragging in the dead body]

Son	Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
	This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
	May be possessed with some store of crowns;
	And I, that haply take them from him now,
	May yet ere night yield both my life and them
	To some man else, as this dead man doth me.
	Who's this? O God! it is my father's face,
	Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd.
	O heavy times, begetting such events!
	From London by the king was I press'd forth;
	My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man,
	Came on the part of York, press'd by his master;
	And I, who at his hands received my life, him
	Have by my hands of life bereaved him.
	Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did!
	And pardon, father, for I knew not thee!
	My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks;
	And no more words till they have flow'd their fill.

KING HENRY VI	O piteous spectacle! O bloody times!
	Whiles lions war and battle for their dens,
	Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.
	Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear;
	And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,
	Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with grief.

	[Enter a Father that has killed his son, bringing in the body]

Father	Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me,
	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,
	Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise,
	Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,
	Upon thy words, that kill mine eye and heart!
	O, pity, God, this miserable age!
	What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
	Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural,
	This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!
	O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,
	And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!

KING HENRY VI	Woe above woe! grief more than common grief!
	O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!
	O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
	The red rose and the white are on his face,
	The fatal colours of our striving houses:
	The one his purple blood right well resembles;
	The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth:
	Wither one rose, and let the other flourish;
	If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.

Son	How will my mother for a father's death
	Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied!

Father	How will my wife for slaughter of my son
	Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied!

KING HENRY VI	How will the country for these woful chances
	Misthink the king and not be satisfied!

Son	Was ever son so rued a father's death?

Father	Was ever father so bemoan'd his son?

KING HENRY VI	Was ever king so grieved for subjects' woe?
	Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much.

Son	I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.

	[Exit with the body]

Father	These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;
	My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,
	For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go;
	My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
	And so obsequious will thy father be,
	Even for the loss of thee, having no more,
	As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
	I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,
	For I have murdered where I should not kill.

	[Exit with the body]

KING HENRY VI	Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care,
	Here sits a king more woful than you are.

	[Alarums: excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE
	EDWARD, and EXETER]

PRINCE EDWARD	Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled,
	And Warwick rages like a chafed bull:
	Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.

QUEEN MARGARET	Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain:
	Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
	Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
	With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath,
	And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands,
	Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.

EXETER	Away! for vengeance comes along with them:
	Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;
	Or else come after: I'll away before.

KING HENRY VI	Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter:
	Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
	Whither the queen intends. Forward; away!

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE VI	Another part of the field.


	[A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded]

CLIFFORD	Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies,
	Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light.
	O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow
	More than my body's parting with my soul!
	My love and fear glued many friends to thee;
	And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts.
	Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York,
	The common people swarm like summer flies;
	And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?
	And who shines now but Henry's enemies?
	O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent
	That Phaethon should cheque thy fiery steeds,
	Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth!
	And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
	Or as thy father and his father did,
	Giving no ground 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;
	And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
	For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?
	And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity?
	Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds;
	No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight:
	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 effuse of blood doth make me faint.
	Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest;
	I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.

	[He faints]

	[Alarum and retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD,
	MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers]

EDWARD	Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause,
	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,
	As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
	Command an argosy to stem the waves.
	But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?

WARWICK	No, 'tis impossible he should escape,
	For, though before his face I speak the words
	Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave:
	And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.

	[CLIFFORD groans, and dies]

EDWARD	Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?

RICHARD	A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.

EDWARD	See who it is: and, now the battle's ended,
	If friend or foe, let him be gently used.

RICHARD	Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford;
	Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
	In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
	But set his murdering knife unto the root
	From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,
	I mean our princely father, Duke of York.

WARWICK	From off the gates of York fetch down the head,
	Your father's head, which Clifford placed there;
	Instead whereof let this supply the room:
	Measure for measure must be answered.

EDWARD	Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house,
	That nothing sung but death to us and ours:
	Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound,
	And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

WARWICK	I think his understanding is bereft.
	Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?
	Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,
	And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.

RICHARD	O, would he did! and so perhaps he doth:
	'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,
	Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
	Which in the time of death he gave our father.

GEORGE	If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.

RICHARD	Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.

EDWARD	Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.

WARWICK	Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.

GEORGE	While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.

RICHARD	Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.

EDWARD	Thou pitied'st Rutland; I will pity thee.

GEORGE	Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now?

WARWICK	They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont.

RICHARD	What, not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard
	When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath.
	I know by that he's dead; and, by my soul,
	If this right hand would buy two hour's life,
	That I in all despite might rail at him,
	This hand should chop it off, and with the
	issuing blood
	Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst
	York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

WARWICK	Ay, but he's dead: off with the traitor's head,
	And rear it in the place your father's stands.
	And now to London with triumphant march,
	There to be crowned England's royal king:
	From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France,
	And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen:
	So shalt thou sinew both these lands together;
	And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
	The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again;
	For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
	Yet look to have them buzz 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.

EDWARD	Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be;
	For in thy shoulder do I build my seat,
	And never will I undertake the thing
	Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.
	Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,
	And George, of Clarence: Warwick, as ourself,
	Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.

RICHARD	Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester;
	For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous.

WARWICK	Tut, that's a foolish observation:
	Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London,
	To see these honours in possession.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE I	A forest in the north of England.


	[Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands]

First Keeper	Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves;
	For through this laund anon the deer will come;
	And in this covert will we make our stand,
	Culling the principal of all the deer.

Second Keeper	I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.

First Keeper	That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow
	Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost.
	Here stand we both, and aim we at the best:
	And, for the time shall not seem tedious,
	I'll tell thee what befell me on a day
	In this self-place where now we mean to stand.

Second Keeper	Here comes a man; let's stay till he be past.

	[Enter KING HENRY VI, disguised, with a prayerbook]

KING HENRY VI	From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love,
	To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
	No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine;
	Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
	Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast anointed:
	No bending knee will call thee Caesar now,
	No humble suitors press to speak for right,
	No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
	For how can I help them, and not myself?

First Keeper	Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee:
	This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him.

KING HENRY VI	Let me embrace thee, sour adversity,
	For wise men say it is the wisest course.

Second Keeper	Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.

First Keeper	Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more.

KING HENRY VI	My queen and son are gone to France for aid;
	And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
	Is thither gone, to crave 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 subtle orator,
	And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words.
	By this account then Margaret may win him;
	For she's a woman to be pitied much:
	Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;
	Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
	The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn;
	And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
	To hear and see her plaints, 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.
	She weeps, and says her Henry is deposed;
	He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd;
	That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more;
	Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong,
	Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
	And in conclusion wins the king from her,
	With promise of his sister, and what 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!

Second Keeper	Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings and queens?

KING HENRY VI	More than I seem, and less than I was born to:
	A man at least, for less I should not be;
	And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

Second Keeper	Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king.

KING HENRY VI	Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough.

Second Keeper	But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown?

KING HENRY VI	My crown is in my heart, not on my head;
	Not decked with diamonds and Indian stones,
	Nor to be seen: my crown is called content:
	A crown it is that seldom kings enjoy.

Second Keeper	Well, if you be a king crown'd with content,
	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;
	And we his subjects sworn in all allegiance
	Will apprehend you as his enemy.

KING HENRY VI	But did you never swear, and break an oath?

Second Keeper	No, never such an oath; nor will not now.

KING HENRY VI	Where did you dwell when I was King of England?

Second Keeper	Here in this country, where we now remain.

KING HENRY VI	I was anointed king at nine months old;
	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?

First Keeper	No;
	For we were subjects but while you were king.

KING HENRY VI	Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man?
	Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear!
	Look, as I blow this feather from my face,
	And as the air blows it to me again,
	Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
	And yielding to another when it blows,
	Commanded always by the greater gust;
	Such is the lightness of you common men.
	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.

First Keeper	We are true subjects to the king, King Edward.

KING HENRY VI	So would you be again to Henry,
	If he were seated as King Edward is.

First Keeper	We charge you, in God's name, and the king's,
	To go with us unto the officers.

KING HENRY VI	In God's name, lead; your king's name be obey'd:
	And what God will, that let your king perform;
	And what he will, I humbly yield unto.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE II	London. The palace.


	[Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and
	LADY GREY]

KING EDWARD IV	Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Alban's field
	This lady's husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain,
	His lands then seized on by the conqueror:
	Her suit is now to repossess those lands;
	Which we in justice cannot well deny,
	Because in quarrel of the house of York
	The worthy gentleman did lose his life.

GLOUCESTER	Your highness shall do well to grant her suit;
	It were dishonour to deny it her.

KING EDWARD IV	It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  Yea, is it so?
	I see the lady hath a thing to grant,
	Before the king will grant her humble suit.

CLARENCE	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  He knows the game: how true
	he keeps the wind!

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  Silence!

KING EDWARD IV	Widow, we will consider of your suit;
	And come some other time to know our mind.

LADY GREY	Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay:
	May it please your highness to resolve me now;
	And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  Ay, widow? then I'll warrant
	you all your lands,
	An if what pleases him shall pleasure you.
	Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow.

CLARENCE	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  I fear her not, unless she
	chance to fall.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE] God forbid that! for he'll
	take vantages.

KING EDWARD IV	How many children hast thou, widow? tell me.

CLARENCE	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  I think he means to beg a
	child of her.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  Nay, whip me then: he'll rather
	give her two.

LADY GREY	Three, my most gracious lord.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  You shall have four, if you'll
	be ruled by him.

KING EDWARD IV	'Twere pity they should lose their father's lands.

LADY GREY	Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.

KING EDWARD IV	Lords, give us leave: I'll try this widow's wit.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  Ay, good leave have you; for
	you will have leave,
	Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch.

	[GLOUCESTER and CLARENCE retire]

KING EDWARD IV	Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?

LADY GREY	Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.

KING EDWARD IV	And would you not do much to do them good?

LADY GREY	To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

KING EDWARD IV	Then get your husband's lands, to do them good.

LADY GREY	Therefore I came unto your majesty.

KING EDWARD IV	I'll tell you how these lands are to be got.

LADY GREY	So shall you bind me to your highness' service.

KING EDWARD IV	What service wilt thou do me, if I give them?

LADY GREY	What you command, that rests in me to do.

KING EDWARD IV	But you will take exceptions to my boon.

LADY GREY	No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.

KING EDWARD IV	Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.

LADY GREY	Why, then I will do what your grace commands.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  He plies her hard; and much rain
	wears the marble.

CLARENCE	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  As red as fire! nay, then
	her wax must melt.

LADY GREY	Why stops my lord, shall I not hear my task?

KING EDWARD IV	An easy task; 'tis but to love a king.

LADY GREY	That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject.

KING EDWARD IV	Why, then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee.

LADY GREY	I take my leave with many thousand thanks.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  The match is made; she seals it
	with a curtsy.

KING EDWARD IV	But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean.

LADY GREY	The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.

KING EDWARD IV	Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense.
	What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?

LADY GREY	My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers;
	That love which virtue begs and virtue grants.

KING EDWARD IV	No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.

LADY GREY	Why, then you mean not as I thought you did.

KING EDWARD IV	But now you partly may perceive my mind.

LADY GREY	My mind will never grant what I perceive
	Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

KING EDWARD IV	To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.

LADY GREY	To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.

KING EDWARD IV	Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands.

LADY GREY	Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower;
	For by that loss I will not purchase them.

KING EDWARD IV	Therein thou wrong'st thy children mightily.

LADY GREY	Herein your highness wrongs both them and me.
	But, mighty lord, this merry inclination
	Accords not with the sadness of my suit:
	Please you dismiss me either with 'ay' or 'no.'

KING EDWARD IV	Ay, if thou wilt say 'ay' to my request;
	No if thou dost say 'no' to my demand.

LADY GREY	Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  The widow likes him not, she
	knits her brows.

CLARENCE	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  He is the bluntest wooer in
	Christendom.

KING EDWARD IV	[Aside]  Her looks do argue her replete with modesty;
	Her words do show her wit incomparable;
	All her perfections challenge sovereignty:
	One way or other, she is for a king;
	And she shall be my love, or else my queen.--
	Say that King Edward take thee for his queen?

LADY GREY	'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord:
	I am a subject fit to jest withal,
	But far unfit to be a sovereign.

KING EDWARD IV	Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee
	I speak no more than what my soul intends;
	And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

LADY GREY	And that is more than I will yield unto:
	I know I am too mean to be your queen,
	And yet too good to be your concubine.

KING EDWARD IV	You cavil, widow: I did mean, my queen.

LADY GREY	'Twill grieve your grace my sons should call you father.

KING EDWARD IV	No more than when my daughters call thee mother.
	Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children;
	And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor,
	Have other some: why, 'tis a happy thing
	To be the father unto many sons.
	Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside to CLARENCE]  The ghostly father now hath done
	his shrift.

CLARENCE	[Aside to GLOUCESTER]  When he was made a shriver,
	'twas for shift.

KING EDWARD IV	Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.

GLOUCESTER	The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.

KING EDWARD IV	You'll think it strange if I should marry her.

CLARENCE	To whom, my lord?

KING EDWARD IV	                  Why, Clarence, to myself.

GLOUCESTER	That would be ten days' wonder at the least.

CLARENCE	That's a day longer than a wonder lasts.

GLOUCESTER	By so much is the wonder in extremes.

KING EDWARD IV	Well, jest on, brothers: I can tell you both
	Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.

	[Enter a Nobleman]

Nobleman	My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken,
	And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.

KING EDWARD IV	See that he be convey'd unto the Tower:
	And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
	To question of his apprehension.
	Widow, go you along. Lords, use her honourably.

	[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Ay, Edward will use women honourably.
	Would he were wasted, marrow, bones and all,
	That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring,
	To cross me from the golden time I look for!
	And yet, between my soul's desire and me--
	The lustful Edward's title buried--
	Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward,
	And all the unlook'd for issue of their bodies,
	To take their rooms, ere I can place myself:
	A cold premeditation for my purpose!
	Why, then, I do but dream on sovereignty;
	Like one that stands upon a promontory,
	And spies a far-off shore where he would tread,
	Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,
	And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,
	Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way:
	So do I wish the crown, being so far off;
	And so I chide the means that keeps me from it;
	And so I say, I'll cut the causes off,
	Flattering me with impossibilities.
	My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens 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,
	And deck my body in gay ornaments,
	And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks.
	O miserable thought! and more unlikely
	Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns!
	Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb:
	And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,
	She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe,
	To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub;
	To make an envious mountain on my back,
	Where sits deformity to mock my body;
	To shape my legs of an unequal size;
	To disproportion me in every part,
	Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp
	That carries no impression like the dam.
	And am I then a man to be beloved?
	O monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought!
	Then, since this earth affords no joy to me,
	But to command, to cheque, to o'erbear such
	As are of better person than myself,
	I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown,
	And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,
	Until my mis-shaped trunk that bears this head
	Be round impaled with a glorious crown.
	And yet I know not how to get the crown,
	For many lives stand between me and home:
	And I,--like one lost in a thorny wood,
	That rends 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,--
	Torment myself to catch 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,
	And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,
	And frame my face to all occasions.
	I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall;
	I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk;
	I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,
	Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,
	And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
	I can add colours to the chameleon,
	Change shapes with Proteus for advantages,
	And set the murderous Machiavel to school.
	Can I do this, and cannot get a crown?
	Tut, were it farther off, I'll pluck it down.

	[Exit]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE III	France. KING LEWIS XI's palace.


	[Flourish. Enter KING LEWIS XI, his sister BONA,
	his Admiral, called BOURBON, PRINCE EDWARD, QUEEN
	MARGARET, and OXFORD. KING LEWIS XI sits, and
	riseth up again]

KING LEWIS XI	Fair Queen of England, worthy Margaret,
	Sit down with us: it ill befits thy state
	And birth, that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit.

QUEEN MARGARET	No, mighty King of France: now Margaret
	Must strike her sail and learn awhile to serve
	Where kings command. I was, I must confess,
	Great Albion's queen in former golden days:
	But now mischance hath trod my title down,
	And with dishonour laid me on the ground;
	Where I must take like seat unto my fortune,
	And to my humble seat conform myself.

KING LEWIS XI	Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair?

QUEEN MARGARET	From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears
	And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares.

KING LEWIS XI	Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself,
	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;
	It shall be eased, if France can yield relief.

QUEEN MARGARET	Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts
	And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak.
	Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,
	That Henry, sole possessor of my love,
	Is of a king become a banish'd man,
	And forced to live in Scotland a forlorn;
	While proud ambitious Edward Duke of York
	Usurps the regal title and the seat
	Of England's true-anointed lawful king.
	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;
	Our people and our peers are both misled,
	Our treasures seized, our soldiers put to flight,
	And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.

KING LEWIS XI	Renowned queen, with patience calm the storm,
	While we bethink a means to break it off.

QUEEN MARGARET	The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.

KING LEWIS XI	The more I stay, the more I'll succor thee.

QUEEN MARGARET	O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
	And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow!

	[Enter WARWICK]

KING LEWIS XI	What's he approacheth boldly to our presence?

QUEEN MARGARET	Our Earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend.

KING LEWIS XI	Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings thee to France?

	[He descends. She ariseth]

QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, now begins a second storm to rise;
	For this is he that moves both wind and tide.

WARWICK	From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
	My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend,
	I come, in kindness and unfeigned love,
	First, to do greetings to thy royal person;
	And then to crave a league of amity;
	And lastly, to confirm that amity
	With a nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant
	That virtuous Lady Bona, thy fair sister,
	To England's king in lawful marriage.

QUEEN MARGARET	[Aside]  If that go forward, Henry's hope is done.

WARWICK	[To BONA]  And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf,
	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, late entering at his heedful ears,
	Hath placed thy beauty's image and thy virtue.

QUEEN MARGARET	King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak,
	Before you answer Warwick. His demand
	Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love,
	But from deceit bred by necessity;
	For how can tyrants safely govern home,
	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, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage
	Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour;
	For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
	Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.

WARWICK	Injurious Margaret!

PRINCE EDWARD	And why not queen?

WARWICK	Because thy father Henry did usurp;
	And thou no more are prince than she is queen.

OXFORD	Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt,
	Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain;
	And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
	Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest;
	And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth,
	Who by his prowess conquered all France:
	From these our Henry lineally descends.

WARWICK	Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse,
	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 tell a pedigree
	Of threescore and two years; a silly time
	To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.

OXFORD	Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege,
	Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years,
	And not bewray thy treason with a blush?

WARWICK	Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right,
	Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree?
	For shame! leave Henry, and call Edward king.

OXFORD	Call him my king by whose injurious doom
	My elder brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere,
	Was done to death? and more than so, my father,
	Even in the downfall of his mellow'd 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.

WARWICK	And I the house of York.

KING LEWIS XI	Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,
	Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside,
	While I use further conference with Warwick.

	[They stand aloof]

QUEEN MARGARET	Heavens grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not!

KING LEWIS XI	Now Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience,
	Is Edward your true king? for I were loath
	To link with him that were not lawful chosen.

WARWICK	Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour.

KING LEWIS XI	But is he gracious in the people's eye?

WARWICK	The more that Henry was unfortunate.

KING LEWIS XI	Then further, all dissembling set aside,
	Tell me for truth the measure of his love
	Unto our sister Bona.

WARWICK	Such it seems
	As may beseem a monarch like himself.
	Myself have often heard him say and swear
	That this his love was an eternal plant,
	Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground,
	The leaves and fruit maintain'd with beauty's sun,
	Exempt from envy, but not from disdain,
	Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.

KING LEWIS XI	Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.

BONA	Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine:

	[To WARWICK]

	Yet I confess that often ere this day,
	When I have heard your king's desert recounted,
	Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire.

KING LEWIS XI	Then, Warwick, thus: our sister shall be Edward's;
	And now forthwith shall articles be drawn
	Touching the jointure that your king must make,
	Which with her dowry shall be counterpoised.
	Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness
	That Bona shall be wife to the English king.

PRINCE EDWARD	To Edward, but not to the English king.

QUEEN MARGARET	Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device
	By this alliance to make void my suit:
	Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend.

KING LEWIS XI	And still is friend to him and Margaret:
	But if your title to the crown be weak,
	As may appear by Edward's good success,
	Then 'tis but reason that I be released
	From giving aid which late I promised.
	Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand
	That your estate requires and mine can yield.

WARWICK	Henry now lives in Scotland at his ease,
	Where having nothing, nothing can he lose.
	And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,
	You have a father able to maintain you;
	And better 'twere you troubled him than France.

QUEEN MARGARET	Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, peace,
	Proud setter up and puller down of kings!
	I will not hence, till, with my talk and tears,
	Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold
	Thy sly conveyance and thy lord's false love;
	For both of you are birds of selfsame feather.

	[Post blows a horn within]

KING LEWIS XI	Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.

	[Enter a Post]

Post	[To WARWICK]  My lord ambassador, these letters are for you,
	Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague:

	[To KING LEWIS XI]

	These from our king unto your majesty:

	[To QUEEN MARGARET]

	And, madam, these for you; from whom I know not.

	[They all read their letters]

OXFORD	I like it well that our fair queen and mistress
	Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.

PRINCE EDWARD	Nay, mark how Lewis stamps, as he were nettled:
	I hope all's for the best.

KING LEWIS XI	Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair queen?

QUEEN MARGARET	Mine, such as fill my heart with unhoped joys.

WARWICK	Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent.

KING LEWIS XI	What! has your king married the Lady Grey!
	And now, to soothe your forgery and his,
	Sends me a paper to persuade me patience?
	Is this the alliance that he seeks with France?
	Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?

QUEEN MARGARET	I told your majesty as much before:
	This proveth Edward's love and Warwick's honesty.

WARWICK	King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of heaven,
	And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,
	That I am clear from 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 untimely to his death?
	Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece?
	Did I impale him with the regal crown?
	Did I put Henry from his native right?
	And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame?
	Shame on himself! for my desert is honour:
	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:
	I will revenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
	And replant Henry in his former state.

QUEEN MARGARET	Warwick, these words have turn'd my hate to love;
	And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
	And joy that thou becomest King Henry's friend.

WARWICK	So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend,
	That, if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us
	With some few bands 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 succor him:
	And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me,
	He's very likely now to fall from him,
	For matching more for wanton lust than honour,
	Or than for strength and safety of our country.

BONA	Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged
	But by thy help to this distressed queen?

QUEEN MARGARET	Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live,
	Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?

BONA	My quarrel and this English queen's are one.

WARWICK	And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours.

KING LEWIS XI	And mine with hers, and thine, and Margaret's.
	Therefore at last I firmly am resolved
	You shall have aid.

QUEEN MARGARET	Let me give humble thanks for all at once.

KING LEWIS XI	Then, England's messenger, return in post,
	And tell false Edward, thy supposed king,
	That Lewis of France is sending over masquers
	To revel it with him and his new bride:
	Thou seest what's past, go fear thy king withal.

BONA	Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly,
	I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.

QUEEN MARGARET	Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid aside,
	And I am ready to put armour on.

WARWICK	Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong,
	And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.
	There's thy reward: be gone.

	[Exit Post]

KING LEWIS XI	But, Warwick,
	Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men,
	Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle;
	And, as occasion serves, this noble queen
	And prince shall follow with a fresh supply.
	Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt,
	What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty?

WARWICK	This shall assure my constant loyalty,
	That if our queen and this young prince agree,
	I'll join mine eldest daughter and my joy
	To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.

QUEEN MARGARET	Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion.
	Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous,
	Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick;
	And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable,
	That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.

PRINCE EDWARD	Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it;
	And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.

	[He gives his hand to WARWICK]

KING LEWIS XI	Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied,
	And thou, Lord Bourbon, our high admiral,
	Shalt waft them over with our royal fleet.
	I long till Edward fall by war's mischance,
	For mocking marriage with a dame of France.

	[Exeunt all but WARWICK]

WARWICK	I came from Edward as ambassador,
	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 stale but me?
	Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow.
	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]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE I	London. The palace.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, and MONTAGUE]

GLOUCESTER	Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you
	Of this new marriage with the Lady Grey?
	Hath not our brother made a worthy choice?

CLARENCE	Alas, you know, 'tis far from hence to France;
	How could he stay till Warwick made return?

SOMERSET	My lords, forbear this talk; here comes the king.

GLOUCESTER	And his well-chosen bride.

CLARENCE	I mind to tell him plainly what I think.

	[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, attended; QUEEN
	ELIZABETH, PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HASTINGS, and others]

KING EDWARD IV	Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice,
	That you stand pensive, as half malcontent?

CLARENCE	As well as Lewis of France, or the Earl of Warwick,
	Which are so weak of courage and in judgment
	That they'll take no offence at our abuse.

KING EDWARD IV	Suppose they take offence without a cause,
	They are but Lewis and Warwick: I am Edward,
	Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will.

GLOUCESTER	And shall have your will, because our king:
	Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.

KING EDWARD IV	Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too?

GLOUCESTER	Not I:
	No, God forbid that I should wish them sever'd
	Whom God hath join'd together; ay, and 'twere pity
	To sunder them that yoke so well together.

KING EDWARD IV	Setting your scorns and your mislike aside,
	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.

CLARENCE	Then this is mine opinion: that King Lewis
	Becomes your enemy, for mocking him
	About the marriage of the Lady Bona.

GLOUCESTER	And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge,
	Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.

KING EDWARD IV	What if both Lewis and Warwick be appeased
	By such invention as I can devise?

MONTAGUE	Yet, to have join'd with France in such alliance
	Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth
	'Gainst foreign storms than any home-bred marriage.

HASTINGS	Why, knows not Montague that of itself
	England is safe, if true within itself?

MONTAGUE	But the safer when 'tis back'd with France.

HASTINGS	'Tis better using France than trusting France:
	Let us be back'd with God and with the seas
	Which He hath given for fence impregnable,
	And with their helps only defend ourselves;
	In them and in ourselves our safety lies.

CLARENCE	For this one speech Lord Hastings well deserves
	To have the heir of the Lord Hungerford.

KING EDWARD IV	Ay, what of that? it was my will and grant;
	And for this once my will shall stand for law.

GLOUCESTER	And yet methinks your grace hath not done well,
	To give the heir and daughter of Lord Scales
	Unto the brother of your loving bride;
	She better would have fitted me or Clarence:
	But in your bride you bury brotherhood.

CLARENCE	Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir
	Of the Lord Bonville on your new wife's son,
	And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.

KING EDWARD IV	Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a wife
	That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.

CLARENCE	In choosing for yourself, you show'd your judgment,
	Which being shallow, you give me leave
	To play the broker in mine own behalf;
	And to that end I shortly mind to leave you.

KING EDWARD IV	Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be king,
	And not be tied unto his brother's will.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	My lords, before it pleased his majesty
	To raise my state to title of a queen,
	Do me but right, and you must all confess
	That I was not ignoble of descent;
	And meaner than myself have had like fortune.
	But as this title honours me and mine,
	So your dislike, to whom I would be pleasing,
	Doth cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.

KING EDWARD IV	My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns:
	What danger or what sorrow can befall thee,
	So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
	And their true sovereign, whom they must obey?
	Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too,
	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.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  I hear, yet say not much, but think the more.

	[Enter a Post]

KING EDWARD IV	Now, messenger, what letters or what news
	From France?

Post	My sovereign liege, no letters; and few words,
	But such as I, without your special pardon,
	Dare not relate.

KING EDWARD IV	Go to, we pardon thee: therefore, in brief,
	Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them.
	What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters?

Post	At my depart, these were his very words:
	'Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king,
	That Lewis of France is sending over masquers
	To revel it with him and his new bride.'

KING EDWARD IV	Is Lewis so brave? belike he thinks me Henry.
	But what said Lady Bona to my marriage?

Post	These were her words, utter'd with mad disdain:
	'Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly,
	I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.'

KING EDWARD IV	I blame not her, she could say little less;
	She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen?
	For I have heard that she was there in place.

Post	'Tell him,' quoth she, 'my mourning weeds are done,
	And I am ready to put armour on.'

KING EDWARD IV	Belike she minds to play the Amazon.
	But what said Warwick to these injuries?

Post	He, more incensed against your majesty
	Than all the rest, discharged me with these words:
	'Tell him from me that he hath done me wrong,
	And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long.'

KING EDWARD IV	Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words?
	Well I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd:
	They shall have wars and pay for their presumption.
	But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret?

Post	Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in
	friendship
	That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter.

CLARENCE	Belike the elder; Clarence will have the younger.
	Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast,
	For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter;
	That, though I want 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]

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  Not I:
	My thoughts aim at a further matter; I
	Stay not for the love of Edward, but the crown.

KING EDWARD IV	Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick!
	Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen;
	And haste is needful in this desperate case.
	Pembroke and Stafford, you in our behalf
	Go levy men, and make prepare for war;
	They are already, or quickly will be landed:
	Myself in person will straight follow you.

	[Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFORD]

	But, ere I go, Hastings and Montague,
	Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest,
	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 hollow friends:
	But if you mind to hold your true obedience,
	Give me assurance with some friendly vow,
	That I may never have you in suspect.

MONTAGUE	So God help Montague as he proves true!

HASTINGS	And Hastings as he favours Edward's cause!

KING EDWARD IV	Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us?

GLOUCESTER	Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.

KING EDWARD IV	Why, so! then am I sure of victory.
	Now therefore let us hence; and lose no hour,
	Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE II	A plain in Warwickshire.


	[Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French soldiers]

WARWICK	Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well;
	The common people by numbers swarm to us.

	[Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET]

	But see where Somerset and Clarence come!
	Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends?

CLARENCE	Fear not that, my lord.

WARWICK	Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick;
	And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice
	To rest mistrustful where a noble heart
	Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love;
	Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother,
	Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings:
	But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine.
	And now what rests but, in night's coverture,
	Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd,
	His soldiers lurking in the towns about,
	And but attended by a simple guard,
	We may surprise and take him at our pleasure?
	Our scouts have found the adventure very easy:
	That as Ulysses and stout Diomede
	With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents,
	And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds,
	So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle,
	At unawares may beat down Edward's guard
	And seize himself; I say not, slaughter him,
	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:
	For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George!

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE III	Edward's camp, near Warwick.


	[Enter three Watchmen, to guard KING EDWARD IV's tent]

First Watchman	Come on, my masters, each man take his stand:
	The king by this is set him down to sleep.

Second Watchman	What, will he not to bed?

First Watchman	Why, no; for he hath made a solemn vow
	Never to lie and take his natural rest
	Till Warwick or himself be quite suppress'd.

Second Watchman	To-morrow then belike shall be the day,
	If Warwick be so near as men report.

Third Watchman	But say, I pray, what nobleman is that
	That with the king here resteth in his tent?

First Watchman	'Tis the Lord Hastings, the king's chiefest friend.

Third Watchman	O, is it so? But why commands the king
	That his chief followers lodge in towns about him,
	While he himself keeps in the cold field?

Second Watchman	'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous.

Third Watchman	Ay, but give me worship and quietness;
	I like it better than a dangerous honour.
	If Warwick knew in what estate he stands,
	'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.

First Watchman	Unless our halberds did shut up his passage.

Second Watchman	Ay, wherefore else guard we his royal tent,
	But to defend his person from night-foes?

	[Enter WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD, SOMERSET, and
	French soldiers, silent all]

WARWICK	This is his tent; and see where stand his guard.
	Courage, my masters! honour now or never!
	But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.

First Watchman	Who goes there?

Second Watchman	Stay, or thou diest!

	[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, reenter
	WARWICK, SOMERSET, and the rest, bringing KING
	EDWARD IV out in his gown, sitting in a chair.
	RICHARD and HASTINGS fly over the stage]

SOMERSET	What are they that fly there?

WARWICK	Richard and Hastings: let them go; here is The duke.

KING EDWARD IV	        The duke! Why, Warwick, when we parted,
	Thou call'dst me king.

WARWICK	Ay, but the case is alter'd:
	When you disgraced me in my embassade,
	Then I degraded 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,
	Nor how to use your brothers brotherly,
	Nor how to study for the people's welfare,
	Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?

KING EDWARD IV	Yea, brother of Clarence, are thou here too?
	Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down.
	Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance,
	Of thee thyself and all thy complices,
	Edward will always bear himself as king:
	Though fortune's malice overthrow my state,
	My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.

WARWICK	Then, for his mind, be Edward England's king:

	[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 convey'd
	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 a while farewell, good Duke of York.

	[They lead him out forcibly]

KING EDWARD IV	What fates impose, that men must needs abide;
	It boots not to resist both wind and tide.

	[Exit, guarded]

OXFORD	What now remains, my lords, for us to do
	But march to London with our soldiers?

WARWICK	Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do;
	To free King Henry from imprisonment
	And see him seated in the regal throne.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE IV	London. The palace.


	[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERS]

RIVERS	Madam, what makes you in this sudden change?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Why brother Rivers, are you yet to learn
	What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward?

RIVERS	What! loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	No, but the loss of his own royal person.

RIVERS	Then is my sovereign slain?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner,
	Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard
	Or by his foe surprised at unawares:
	And, as I further have to understand,
	Is new committed to the Bishop of York,
	Fell Warwick's brother and by that our foe.

RIVERS	These news I must confess are full of grief;
	Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may:
	Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Till then fair hope must hinder life's decay.
	And I the rather wean me from despair
	For love of Edward's offspring in my womb:
	This is it that makes me bridle passion
	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,
	Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown
	King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown.

RIVERS	But, madam, where is Warwick then become?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
	To set the crown once more on Henry's head:
	Guess thou the rest; King Edward's friends must down,
	But, to prevent the tyrant's violence,--
	For trust not him that hath once broken faith,--
	I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary,
	To save at least the heir of Edward's right:
	There shall I rest secure from force and fraud.
	Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly:
	If Warwick take us we are sure to die.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE V	A park near Middleham Castle In Yorkshire.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and STANLEY]

GLOUCESTER	Now, my Lord Hastings and Sir William Stanley,
	Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither,
	Into this chiefest thicket of the park.
	Thus stands the case: you know our king, my brother,
	Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands
	He hath good usage and great liberty,
	And, often but attended with weak guard,
	Comes hunting this way to disport himself.
	I have advertised him by secret means
	That if about this hour he make his way
	Under the colour of his usual game,
	He shall here find his friends with horse and men
	To set him free from his captivity.

	[Enter KING EDWARD IV and a Huntsman with him]

Huntsman	This way, my lord; for this way lies the game.

KING EDWARD IV	Nay, this way, man: see where the huntsmen stand.
	Now, brother of Gloucester, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
	Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's deer?

GLOUCESTER	Brother, the time and case requireth haste:
	Your horse stands ready at the park-corner.

KING EDWARD IV	But whither shall we then?

HASTINGS	To Lynn, my lord,
	And ship from thence to Flanders.

GLOUCESTER	Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my meaning.

KING EDWARD IV	Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.

GLOUCESTER	But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talk.

KING EDWARD IV	Huntsman, what say'st thou? wilt thou go along?

Huntsman	Better do so than tarry and be hang'd.

GLOUCESTER	Come then, away; let's ha' no more ado.

KING EDWARD IV	Bishop, farewell: shield thee from Warwick's frown;
	And pray that I may repossess the crown.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VI	London. The Tower.


	[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, CLARENCE, WARWICK,
	SOMERSET, HENRY OF RICHMOND, OXFORD, MONTAGUE, and
	Lieutenant of the Tower]

KING HENRY VI	Master lieutenant, now that God and friends
	Have shaken Edward from the regal seat,
	And turn'd my captive state to liberty,
	My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys,
	At our enlargement what are thy due fees?

Lieutenant	Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns;
	But if an humble prayer may prevail,
	I then crave pardon of your majesty.

KING HENRY VI	For what, lieutenant? for well using me?
	Nay, be thou sure I'll well requite thy kindness,
	For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure;
	Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds
	Conceive when after many moody thoughts
	At last by notes of household harmony
	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, thou the instrument.
	Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite
	By living low, where fortune cannot hurt me,
	And that the people of this blessed land
	May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars,
	Warwick, although my head still wear the crown,
	I here resign my government to thee,
	For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.

WARWICK	Your grace hath still been famed for virtuous;
	And now may seem as wise as virtuous,
	By spying and avoiding fortune's malice,
	For few men rightly temper with the stars:
	Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace,
	For choosing me when Clarence is in place.

CLARENCE	No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the sway,
	To whom the heavens in thy nativity
	Adjudged an olive branch and laurel crown,
	As likely to be blest in peace and war;
	And therefore I yield thee my free consent.

WARWICK	And I choose Clarence only for protector.

KING HENRY VI	Warwick and Clarence give me both your hands:
	Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts,
	That no dissension hinder government:
	I make you both protectors of this land,
	While I myself will lead a private life
	And in devotion spend my latter days,
	To sin's rebuke and my Creator's praise.

WARWICK	What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will?

CLARENCE	That he consents, if Warwick yield consent;
	For on thy fortune I repose myself.

WARWICK	Why, then, though loath, yet must I be content:
	We'll yoke together, like a double shadow
	To Henry's body, and supply 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,
	And all his lands and goods be confiscate.

CLARENCE	What else? and that succession be determined.

WARWICK	Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part.

KING HENRY VI	But, with the first of all your chief affairs,
	Let me entreat, for I command no more,
	That Margaret your queen and my son Edward
	Be sent for, to return from France with speed;
	For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear
	My joy of liberty is half eclipsed.

CLARENCE	It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed.

KING HENRY VI	My Lord of Somerset, what youth is that,
	Of whom you seem to have so tender care?

SOMERSET	My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Richmond.

KING HENRY VI	Come hither, England's hope.

	[Lays his hand on his head]

		       If secret powers
	Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts,
	This pretty 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.
	Make much of him, my lords, for this is he
	Must help you more than you are hurt by me.

	[Enter a Post]

WARWICK	What news, my friend?

Post	That Edward is escaped from your brother,
	And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.

WARWICK	Unsavoury news! but how made he escape?

Post	He was convey'd by Richard Duke of Gloucester
	And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
	In secret ambush on the forest side
	And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him;
	For hunting was his daily exercise.

WARWICK	My brother was too careless of his charge.
	But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide
	A salve for any sore that may betide.

	[Exeunt all but SOMERSET, HENRY OF RICHMOND, and OXFORD]

SOMERSET	My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's;
	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
	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.

OXFORD	Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown,
	'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down.

SOMERSET	It shall be so; he shall to Brittany.
	Come, therefore, let's about it speedily.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VII	Before York.


	[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER,
	HASTINGS, and Soldiers]

KING EDWARD IV	Now, brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
	Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends,
	And says that once more I shall interchange
	My waned state for Henry's regal crown.
	Well have we pass'd and now repass'd the seas
	And brought desired help from Burgundy:
	What then remains, we being thus arrived
	From Ravenspurgh haven before the gates of York,
	But that we enter, as into our dukedom?

GLOUCESTER	The gates made fast! Brother, I like not this;
	For many men that stumble at the threshold
	Are well foretold that danger lurks within.

KING EDWARD IV	Tush, man, abodements must not now affright us:
	By fair or foul means we must enter in,
	For hither will our friends repair to us.

HASTINGS	My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them.

	[Enter, on the walls, the Mayor of York, and his Brethren]

Mayor	My lords, we were forewarned of your coming,
	And shut the gates for safety of ourselves;
	For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.

KING EDWARD IV	But, master mayor, if Henry be your king,
	Yet Edward at the least is Duke of York.

Mayor	True, my good lord; I know you for no less.

KING EDWARD IV	Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom,
	As being well content with that alone.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  But when the fox hath once got in his nose,
	He'll soon find means to make the body follow.

HASTINGS	Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt?
	Open the gates; we are King Henry's friends.

Mayor	Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be open'd.

	[They descend]

GLOUCESTER	A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded!

HASTINGS	The good old man would fain that all were well,
	So 'twere not 'long of him; but being enter'd,
	I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade
	Both him and all his brothers unto reason.

	[Enter the Mayor and two Aldermen, below]

KING EDWARD IV	So, master mayor: these gates must not be shut
	But 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 deign to follow me.

	[March. Enter MONTGOMERY, with drum and soldiers]

GLOUCESTER	Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery,
	Our trusty friend, unless I be deceived.

KING EDWARD IV	Welcome, Sir John! But why come you in arms?

MONTAGUE	To help King Edward in his time of storm,
	As every loyal subject ought to do.

KING EDWARD IV	Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget
	Our title to the crown and only claim
	Our dukedom till God please to send the rest.

MONTAGUE	Then fare you well, for I will hence again:
	I came to serve a king and not a duke.
	Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.

	[The drum begins to march]

KING EDWARD IV	Nay, stay, Sir John, awhile, and we'll debate
	By what safe means the crown may be recover'd.

MONTAGUE	What talk you of debating? in few words,
	If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king,
	I'll leave you to your fortune and be gone
	To keep them back that come to succor you:
	Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title?

GLOUCESTER	Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points?

KING EDWARD IV	When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim:
	Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.

HASTINGS	Away with scrupulous wit! now arms must rule.

GLOUCESTER	And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
	Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand:
	The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.

KING EDWARD IV	Then be it as you will; for 'tis my right,
	And Henry but usurps the diadem.

MONTAGUE	Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself;
	And now will I be Edward's champion.

HASTINGS	Sound trumpet; Edward shall be here proclaim'd:
	Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation.

	[Flourish]

Soldier	Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, king of
	England and France, and lord of Ireland, &c.

MONTAGUE	And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward's right,
	By this I challenge him to single fight.

	[Throws down his gauntlet]

All	Long live Edward the Fourth!

KING EDWARD IV	Thanks, brave Montgomery; and thanks unto you all:
	If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness.
	Now, for this night, let's harbour here in York;
	And when the morning sun shall raise his car
	Above the border of this horizon,
	We'll forward towards Warwick and his mates;
	For well I wot that Henry is no soldier.
	Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems thee
	To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother!
	Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick.
	Come on, brave soldiers: doubt not of the day,
	And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VIII	London. The palace.


	[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, WARWICK, MONTAGUE,
	CLARENCE, EXETER, and OXFORD]

WARWICK	What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
	With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders,
	Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas,
	And with his troops doth march amain to London;
	And many giddy people flock to him.

KING HENRY VI	Let's levy men, and beat him back again.

CLARENCE	A little fire is quickly trodden out;
	Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

WARWICK	In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends,
	Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war;
	Those will I muster up: and thou, son Clarence,
	Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
	The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:
	Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
	Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find
	Men well inclined to hear what thou command'st:
	And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved,
	In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.
	My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
	Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
	Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
	Shall rest in London till we come to him.
	Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply.
	Farewell, my sovereign.

KING HENRY VI	Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true hope.

CLARENCE	In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand.

KING HENRY VI	Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate!

MONTAGUE	Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave.

OXFORD	And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu.

KING HENRY VI	Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
	And all at once, once more a happy farewell.

WARWICK	Farewell, sweet lords: let's meet at Coventry.

	[Exeunt all but KING HENRY VI and EXETER]

KING HENRY VI	Here at the palace I will rest awhile.
	Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship?
	Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
	Should not be able to encounter mine.

EXETER	The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.

KING HENRY VI	That's not my fear; my meed hath got me fame:
	I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
	Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
	My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
	My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs,
	My mercy dried their water-flowing tears;
	I have not been desirous of their wealth,
	Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies.
	Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd:
	Then why should they love Edward more than me?
	No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace:
	And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
	The lamb will never cease to follow him.

	[Shout within. 'A Lancaster! A Lancaster!']

EXETER	Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these?

	[Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, and soldiers]

KING EDWARD IV	Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear him hence;
	And once again proclaim us King of England.
	You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow:
	Now stops thy spring; my sea sha$l suck them dry,
	And swell so much the higher by their ebb.
	Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak.

	[Exeunt some with KING HENRY VI]

	And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course
	Where peremptory Warwick now remains:
	The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay,
	Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.

GLOUCESTER	Away betimes, before his forces join,
	And take the great-grown traitor unawares:
	Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE I	Coventry.


	[Enter WARWICK, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers,
	and others upon the walls]

WARWICK	Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?
	How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?

First Messenger	By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.

WARWICK	How far off is our brother Montague?
	Where is the post that came from Montague?

Second Messenger	By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.

	[Enter SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE]

WARWICK	Say, Somerville, what says my loving son?
	And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?

SOMERSET	At Southam I did leave him with his forces,
	And do expect him here some two hours hence.

	[Drum heard]

WARWICK	Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum.

SOMERSET	It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies:
	The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick.

WARWICK	Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends.

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

	[March: flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER,
	and soldiers]

KING EDWARD IV	Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle.

GLOUCESTER	See how the surly Warwick mans the wall!

WARWICK	O unbid spite! is sportful Edward come?
	Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced,
	That we could hear no news of his repair?

KING EDWARD IV	Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates,
	Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy knee,
	Call Edward king and at his hands beg mercy?
	And he shall pardon thee these outrages.

WARWICK	Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
	Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee own,
	Call Warwick patron and be penitent?
	And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.

GLOUCESTER	I thought, at least, he would have said the king;
	Or did he make the jest against his will?

WARWICK	Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?

GLOUCESTER	Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give:
	I'll do thee service for so good a gift.

WARWICK	'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother.

KING EDWARD IV	Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift.

WARWICK	Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
	And weakling, Warwick takes his gift again;
	And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.

KING EDWARD IV	But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner:
	And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this:
	What is the body when the head is off?

GLOUCESTER	Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast,
	But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
	The king was slily finger'd from the deck!
	You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace,
	And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.

EDWARD	'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still.

GLOUCESTER	Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down:
	Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools.

WARWICK	I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,
	And with the other fling it at thy face,
	Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.

KING EDWARD IV	Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend,
	This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair
	Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off,
	Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,
	'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.'

	[Enter OXFORD, with drum and colours]

WARWICK	O cheerful colours! see where Oxford comes!

OXFORD	Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!

	[He and his forces enter the city]

GLOUCESTER	The gates are open, let us enter too.

KING EDWARD IV	So other foes may set upon our backs.
	Stand we in good array; for they no doubt
	Will issue out again and bid us battle:
	If not, the city being but of small defence,
	We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.

WARWICK	O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.

	[Enter MONTAGUE with drum and colours]

MONTAGUE	Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!

	[He and his forces enter the city]

GLOUCESTER	Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason
	Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.

KING EDWARD IV	The harder match'd, the greater victory:
	My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.

	[Enter SOMERSET, with drum and colours]

SOMERSET	Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!

	[He and his forces enter the city]

GLOUCESTER	Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
	Have sold their lives unto the house of York;
	And thou shalt be the third if this sword hold.

	[Enter CLARENCE, with drum and colours]

WARWICK	And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along,
	Of force enough to bid his brother battle;
	With whom an upright zeal to right prevails
	More than the nature of a brother's love!
	Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call.

CLARENCE	Father of Warwick, know you what this means?

	[Taking his red rose out of his hat]

	Look here, I throw my infamy at thee
	I will not ruinate my father's house,
	Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,
	And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick,
	That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
	To bend the fatal instruments of war
	Against his brother and his lawful king?
	Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath:
	To keep that oath were more impiety
	Than Jephthah's, when he sacrificed his daughter.
	I am so sorry for my trespass made
	That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
	I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe,
	With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee--
	As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad--
	To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
	And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
	And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
	Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends:
	And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
	For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.

KING EDWARD IV	Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved,
	Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.

GLOUCESTER	Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike.

WARWICK	O passing traitor, perjured and unjust!

KING EDWARD IV	What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight?
	Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?

WARWICK	Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence!
	I will away towards Barnet presently,
	And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest.

KING EDWARD IV	Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way.
	Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory!

	[Exeunt King Edward and his company. March. Warwick
	and his company follow]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE II	A field of battle near Barnet.


	[Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD IV, bringing
	forth WARWICK wounded]

KING EDWARD IV	So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;
	For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.
	Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
	That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.

	[Exit]

WARWICK	Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe,
	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
	And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
	Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
	Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
	Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,
	Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree
	And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
	These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil,
	Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
	To search the secret treasons of the world:
	The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood,
	Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
	For who lived king, but I could dig his grave?
	And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow?
	Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
	My parks, my walks, my manors that I had.
	Even now forsake me, and of all my lands
	Is nothing left me but my body's length.
	Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
	And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

	[Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET]

SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are.
	We might recover all our loss again;
	The queen from France hath brought a puissant power:
	Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly!

WARWICK	Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague,
	If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand.
	And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!
	Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst,
	Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood
	That glues my lips and will not let me speak.
	Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

SOMERSET	Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed his last;
	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 clamour in a vault,
	That mought not be distinguished; but at last
	I well might hear, delivered with a groan,
	'O, farewell, Warwick!'

WARWICK	Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves;
	For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven.

	[Dies]

OXFORD	Away, away, to meet the queen's great power!

	[Here they bear away his body. Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE III	Another part of the field.


	[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV in triumph; with
	GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest]

KING EDWARD IV	Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,
	And we are graced with wreaths of victory.
	But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
	I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,
	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 Gallia have arrived our coast
	And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

CLARENCE	A little gale will soon disperse that cloud
	And blow it to the source from whence it came:
	The very beams will dry those vapours up,
	For every cloud engenders not a storm.

GLOUCESTER	The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
	And Somerset, with Oxford fled to her:
	If she have time to breathe be well assured
	Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

KING EDWARD IV	We are advertised by our loving friends
	That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury:
	We, having now the best at Barnet field,
	Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;
	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]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE IV	Plains near Tewksbury.


	[March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD,
	SOMERSET, OXFORD, and soldiers]

QUEEN MARGARET	Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,
	But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
	What though the mast be now blown overboard,
	The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,
	And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood?
	Yet lives our pilot 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,
	Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,
	Which industry 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 topmost; what of him?
	Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these?
	Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
	And Somerset another goodly mast?
	The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?
	And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
	For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?
	We will not from the helm to sit and weep,
	But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,
	From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.
	As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.
	And what is Edward but ruthless sea?
	What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?
	And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?
	All these the enemies to our poor bark.
	Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while!
	Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink:
	Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,
	Or else you famish; that's a threefold death.
	This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
	If case some one of you would fly from us,
	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.

PRINCE EDWARD	Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit
	Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
	Infuse his breast with magnanimity
	And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.
	I speak not this as doubting any here
	For did I but suspect a fearful man
	He should have leave to go away betimes,
	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.

OXFORD	Women and children of so high a courage,
	And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame.
	O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather
	Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live
	To bear his image and renew his glories!

SOMERSET	And he that will not fight for such a hope.
	Go home to bed, and like the owl by day,
	If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

QUEEN MARGARET	Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.

PRINCE EDWARD	And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand.
	Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

OXFORD	 I thought no less: it is his policy
	To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

SOMERSET	But he's deceived; we are in readiness.

QUEEN MARGARET	This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.

OXFORD	Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.

	[Flourish and march. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER,
	CLARENCE, and soldiers]

KING EDWARD IV	Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,
	Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength,
	Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
	I need not add more fuel to your fire,
	For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out
	Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords!

QUEEN MARGARET	Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say
	My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
	Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
	Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,
	Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
	His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,
	His statutes cancell'd and his treasure spent;
	And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
	You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,
	Be valiant and give signal to the fight.

	[Alarum. Retreat. Excursions. Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE V	Another part of the field.


	[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE,
	and soldiers; with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and
	SOMERSET, prisoners]

KING EDWARD IV	Now here a period of tumultuous broils.
	Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight:
	For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
	Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.

OXFORD	For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.

SOMERSET	Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.

	[Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded]

QUEEN MARGARET	So part we sadly in this troublous world,
	To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.

KING EDWARD IV	Is proclamation made, that who finds Edward
	Shall have a high reward, and he his life?

GLOUCESTER	It is: and lo, where youthful Edward comes!

	[Enter soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD]

KING EDWARD IV	Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak.
	What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?
	Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make
	For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
	And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?

PRINCE EDWARD	Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York!
	Suppose that I am now my father's mouth;
	Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou,
	Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee,
	Which traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

QUEEN MARGARET	Ah, that thy father had been so resolved!

GLOUCESTER	That you might still have worn the petticoat,
	And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.

PRINCE EDWARD	Let AEsop fable in a winter's night;
	His currish riddles sort not with this place.

GLOUCESTER	By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word.

QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.

GLOUCESTER	For God's sake, take away this captive scold.

PRINCE EDWARD	Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.

KING EDWARD IV	Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.

CLARENCE	Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.

PRINCE EDWARD	I know my duty; you are all undutiful:
	Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George,
	And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all
	I am your better, traitors as ye are:
	And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.

KING EDWARD IV	Take that, thou likeness of this railer here.

	[Stabs him]

GLOUCESTER	Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony.

	[Stabs him]

CLARENCE	And there's for twitting me with perjury.

	[Stabs him]

QUEEN MARGARET	O, kill me too!

GLOUCESTER	Marry, and shall.

	[Offers to kill her]

KING EDWARD IV	Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done too much.

GLOUCESTER	Why should she live, to fill the world with words?

KING EDWARD IV	What, doth she swoon? use means for her recovery.

GLOUCESTER	Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;
	I'll hence to London on a serious matter:
	Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.

CLARENCE	What? what?

GLOUCESTER	The Tower, the Tower.

	[Exit]

QUEEN MARGARET	O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!
	Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!
	They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all,
	Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
	If this foul deed were by to equal it:
	He was a man; this, in respect, 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, and if I speak:
	And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
	Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!
	How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
	You have no children, butchers! if you had,
	The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse:
	But if you ever chance to have a child,
	Look in his youth to have him so cut off
	As, deathmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!

KING EDWARD IV	Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.

QUEEN MARGARET	Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here,
	Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death:
	What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou.

CLARENCE	By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.

QUEEN MARGARET	Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

CLARENCE	Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

QUEEN MARGARET	Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:
	'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
	What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher,
	Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
	Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed;
	Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

KING EDWARD IV	Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence.

QUEEN MARGARET	So come to you and yours, as to this Prince!

	[Exit, led out forcibly]

KING EDWARD IV	Where's Richard gone?

CLARENCE	To London, all in post; and, as I guess,
	To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

KING EDWARD IV	He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
	Now march we hence: discharge the common sort
	With pay and thanks, and let's away to London
	And see our gentle queen how well she fares:
	By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

	[Exeunt]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE VI	London. The Tower.


	[Enter KING HENRY VI and GLOUCESTER, with the
	Lieutenant, on the walls]

GLOUCESTER	Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?

KING HENRY VI	Ay, my good lord:--my lord, I should say rather;
	'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better:
	'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike,
	And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.'

GLOUCESTER	Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer.

	[Exit Lieutenant]

KING HENRY VI	So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;
	So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece
	And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
	What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

GLOUCESTER	Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind;
	The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

KING HENRY VI	The bird that hath been limed in a bush,
	With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;
	And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
	Have now the fatal object in my eye
	Where my poor young was limed, was caught and kill'd.

GLOUCESTER	Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete,
	That taught his son the office of a fowl!
	An yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.

KING HENRY VI	I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
	Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
	The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy
	Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea
	Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
	Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
	My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
	Than can my ears that tragic history.
	But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?

GLOUCESTER	Think'st thou I am an executioner?

KING HENRY VI	A persecutor, I am sure, thou art:
	If murdering innocents be executing,
	Why, then thou art an executioner.

GLOUCESTER	Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.

KING HENRY VI	Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume,
	Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine.
	And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand,
	Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
	And many an old man's sigh and many a widow's,
	And many an orphan's water-standing eye--
	Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
	And orphans for their parents timeless death--
	Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
	The owl shriek'd at thy birth,--an evil sign;
	The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
	Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees;
	The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
	And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
	Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
	And, yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,
	To wit, an indigested and deformed lump,
	Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
	Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
	To signify thou camest to bite the world:
	And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
	Thou camest--

GLOUCESTER	I'll hear no more: die, prophet in thy speech:

	[Stabs him]

	For this amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.

KING HENRY VI	Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
	God forgive my sins, and pardon thee!

	[Dies]

GLOUCESTER	What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
	Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
	See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
	O, may such purple tears be alway shed
	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:

	[Stabs him again]

	I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
	Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of;
	For I have often heard my mother say
	I came into the world with my legs forward:
	Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
	And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
	The midwife wonder'd and the women cried
	'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 answer it.
	I have no brother, I am like no brother;
	And this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine,
	Be resident in men like one another
	And not in me: I am myself alone.
	Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light:
	But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;
	For I will buz abroad such prophecies
	That Edward shall be fearful of his life,
	And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
	King Henry and the prince his son are gone:
	Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
	Counting myself but bad till I be best.
	I'll throw thy body in another room
	And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.

	[Exit, with the body]




	3 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE VII	London. The palace.


	[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV, QUEEN ELIZABETH,
	CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, a Nurse with the
	young Prince, and Attendants]

KING EDWARD IV	Once more we sit in England's royal throne,
	Re-purchased with the blood of enemies.
	What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,
	Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride!
	Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
	For hardy and undoubted champions;
	Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
	And two Northumberlands; two braver men
	Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound;
	With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,
	That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion
	And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
	Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat
	And made our footstool of security.
	Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.
	Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
	Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night,
	Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
	That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace;
	And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid;
	For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
	This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave;
	And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:
	Work thou the way,--and thou shalt execute.

KING EDWARD IV	Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen;
	And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.

CLARENCE	The duty that I owe unto your majesty
	I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.

GLOUCESTER	And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,
	Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
	[Aside]  To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master,
	And cried 'all hail!' when as he meant all harm.

KING EDWARD IV	Now am I seated as my soul delights,
	Having my country's peace and brothers' loves.

CLARENCE	What will your grace have done with Margaret?
	Reignier, her father, to the king of France
	Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
	And hither have they sent it for her ransom.

KING EDWARD IV	Away with her, and waft her hence to France.
	And now what rests but that we spend the time
	With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
	Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
	Sound drums and trumpets! farewell sour annoy!
	For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING
HENRY THE SIXTH	(KING HENRY VI:)

DUKE OF GLOUCESTER	uncle to the King, and Protector. (GLOUCESTER:)

DUKE OF BEDFORD	uncle to the King, and Regent of France. (BEDFORD:)

THOMAS BEAUFORT	Duke of Exeter, great-uncle to the King. (EXETER:)

HENRY BEAUFORT	great-uncle to the King, Bishop of Winchester, and
	afterwards Cardinal. (BISHOP OF WINCHESTER:)

JOHN BEAUFORT	Earl, afterwards Duke, of Somerset. (SOMERSET:)

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	son of Richard late Earl of Cambridge, (RICHARD
	PLANTAGENET:)  afterwards Duke of York.
	(YORK:)

EARL OF WARWICK	(WARWICK:)

EARL OF SALISBURY	(SALISBURY:)

EARL OF SUFFOLK	(SUFFOLK:)

LORD TALBOT	afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury. (TALBOT:)

JOHN TALBOT	Lord Talbot's son.

EDMUND MORTIMER	Earl of March. (MORTIMER:)

SIR JOHN FASTOLFE	(FASTOLFE:)

SIR WILLIAM LUCY	(LUCY:)

SIR
WILLIAM GLANSDALE	(GLANDSDALE:)

SIR
THOMAS GARGRAVE	(GARGRAVE:)

Mayor of London	(Mayor:)

WOODVILE	Lieutenant of the Tower.

VERNON	of the White-Rose or York faction.

BASSET	of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction.

	A Lawyer. (Lawyer:)

	Mortimer's Keepers. (First Gaoler:)

CHARLES	Dauphin, and afterwards King, of France.

REIGNIER	Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples.

DUKE OF BURGUNDY	(BURGUNDY:)

DUKE OF ALENCON	(ALENCON:)

BASTARD OF ORLEANS:

	Governor of Paris.

	Master-Gunner of Orleans, (Master-Gunner:)
	and his Son. (Boy:)

	General of the French forces in Bourdeaux. (General:)

	A French Sergeant. (Sargeant:)

	A Porter.

	An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle. (Shepherd:)

MARGARET	daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE:

JOAN LA PUCELLE	commonly called Joan of Arc.

	Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers,
	Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants.
	(First Warder:)
	(Second Warder:)
	(Captain:)
	(Officer:)
	(Soldier:)
	(First Soldier:)
	(Watch:)
	(Scout:)
	(First Sentinel:)
	(Servant:)
	(First Serving-Man:)
	(Second Serving-Man:)
	(Third Serving-Man:)

	Fiends appearing to La Pucelle.


SCENE	Partly in England, and partly in France.




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE I	Westminster Abbey.


	[Dead March. Enter the Funeral of KING HENRY the
	Fifth, attended on by Dukes of BEDFORD, Regent of
	France; GLOUCESTER, Protector; and EXETER, Earl of
	WARWICK, the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, Heralds, &c]

BEDFORD	Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
	Comets, importing change of times and states,
	Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,
	And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
	That have consented unto Henry's death!
	King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
	England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.

GLOUCESTER	England ne'er had a king until his time.
	Virtue he had, deserving to command:
	His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams:
	His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings;
	His sparking eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
	More dazzled and drove back his enemies
	Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces.
	What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:
	He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered.

EXETER	We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood?
	Henry is dead and never shall revive:
	Upon a wooden coffin we attend,
	And death's dishonourable victory
	We with our stately presence glorify,
	Like captives bound to a triumphant car.
	What! shall we curse the planets of mishap
	That plotted thus our glory's overthrow?
	Or shall we think the subtle-witted French
	Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him
	By magic verses have contrived his end?

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	He was a king bless'd of the King of kings.
	Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day
	So dreadful will not be as was his sight.
	The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought:
	The church's prayers made him so prosperous.

GLOUCESTER	The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray'd,
	His thread of life had not so soon decay'd:
	None do you like but an effeminate prince,
	Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art protector
	And lookest to command the prince and realm.
	Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe,
	More than God or religious churchmen may.

GLOUCESTER	Name not religion, for thou lovest the flesh,
	And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st
	Except it be to pray against thy foes.

BEDFORD	Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace:
	Let's to the altar: heralds, wait on us:
	Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms:
	Since arms avail not now that Henry's dead.
	Posterity, await for wretched years,
	When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck,
	Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears,
	And none but women left to wail the dead.
	Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate:
	Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils,
	Combat with adverse planets in the heavens!
	A far more glorious star thy soul will make
	Than Julius Caesar or bright--

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	My honourable lords, health to you all!
	Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
	Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture:
	Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans,
	Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.

BEDFORD	What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse?
	Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns
	Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.

GLOUCESTER	Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up?
	If Henry were recall'd to life again,
	These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.

EXETER	How were they lost? what treachery was used?

Messenger	No treachery; but want of men and money.
	Amongst the soldiers this is muttered,
	That here you maintain several factions,
	And whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought,
	You are disputing of your generals:
	One would have lingering wars with little cost;
	Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings;
	A third thinks, without expense at all,
	By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.
	Awake, awake, English nobility!
	Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot:
	Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
	Of England's coat one half is cut away.

EXETER	Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
	These tidings would call forth their flowing tides.

BEDFORD	Me they concern; Regent I am of France.
	Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France.
	Away with these disgraceful wailing robes!
	Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes,
	To weep their intermissive miseries.

	[Enter to them another Messenger]

Messenger	Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance.
	France is revolted from the English quite,
	Except some petty towns of no import:
	The Dauphin Charles is crowned king of Rheims;
	The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd;
	Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part;
	The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side.

EXETER	The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him!
	O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?

GLOUCESTER	We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats.
	Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.

BEDFORD	Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness?
	An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,
	Wherewith already France is overrun.

	[Enter another Messenger]

Messenger	My gracious lords, to add to your laments,
	Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse,
	I must inform you of a dismal fight
	Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so?

Messenger	O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o'erthrown:
	The circumstance I'll tell you more at large.
	The tenth of August last this dreadful lord,
	Retiring from the siege of Orleans,
	Having full scarce six thousand in his troop.
	By three and twenty thousand of the French
	Was round encompassed and set upon.
	No leisure had he to enrank his men;
	He wanted pikes to set before his archers;
	Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges
	They pitched in the ground confusedly,
	To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.
	More than three hours the fight continued;
	Where valiant Talbot above human thought
	Enacted wonders with his sword and lance:
	Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him;
	Here, there, and every where, enraged he flew:
	The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms;
	All the whole army stood agazed on him:
	His soldiers spying his undaunted spirit
	A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain
	And rush'd into the bowels of the battle.
	Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up,
	If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward:
	He, being in the vaward, placed behind
	With purpose to relieve and follow them,
	Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
	Hence grew the general wreck and massacre;
	Enclosed were they with their enemies:
	A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
	Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back,
	Whom all France with their chief assembled strength
	Durst not presume to look once in the face.

BEDFORD	Is Talbot slain? then I will slay myself,
	For living idly here in pomp and ease,
	Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid,
	Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd.

Messenger	O no, he lives; but is took prisoner,
	And Lord Scales with him and Lord Hungerford:
	Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise.

BEDFORD	His ransom there is none but I shall pay:
	I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne:
	His crown shall be the ransom of my friend;
	Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours.
	Farewell, my masters; to my task will I;
	Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make,
	To keep our great Saint George's feast withal:
	Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take,
	Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake.

Messenger	So you had need; for Orleans is besieged;
	The English army is grown weak and faint:
	The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply,
	And hardly keeps his men from mutiny,
	Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.

EXETER	Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn,
	Either to quell the Dauphin utterly,
	Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.

BEDFORD	I do remember it; and here take my leave,
	To go about my preparation.

	[Exit]

GLOUCESTER	I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can,
	To view the artillery and munition;
	And then I will proclaim young Henry king.

	[Exit]

EXETER	To Eltham will I, where the young king is,
	Being ordain'd his special governor,
	And for his safety there I'll best devise.

	[Exit]

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Each hath his place and function to attend:
	I am left out; for me nothing remains.
	But long I will not be Jack out of office:
	The king from Eltham I intend to steal
	And sit at chiefest stern of public weal.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE II	France. Before Orleans.


	[Sound a flourish. Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and
	REIGNIER, marching with drum and Soldiers]

CHARLES	Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens
	So in the earth, to this day is not known:
	Late did he shine upon the English side;
	Now we are victors; upon us he smiles.
	What towns of any moment but we have?
	At pleasure here we lie near Orleans;
	Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts,
	Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

ALENCON	They want their porridge and their fat bull-beeves:
	Either they must be dieted like mules
	And have their provender tied to their mouths
	Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.

REIGNIER	Let's raise the siege: why live we idly here?
	Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear:
	Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury;
	And he may well in fretting spend his gall,
	Nor men nor money hath he to make war.

CHARLES	Sound, sound alarum! we will rush on them.
	Now for the honour of the forlorn French!
	Him I forgive my death that killeth me
	When he sees me go back one foot or fly.

	[Exeunt]

	[Here alarum; they are beaten back by the English
	with great loss. Re-enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and REIGNIER]

CHARLES	Who ever saw the like? what men have I!
	Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne'er have fled,
	But that they left me 'midst my enemies.

REIGNIER	Salisbury is a desperate homicide;
	He fighteth as one weary of his life.
	The other lords, like lions wanting food,
	Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.

ALENCON	Froissart, a countryman of ours, records,
	England all Olivers and Rowlands bred,
	During the time Edward the Third did reign.
	More truly now may this be verified;
	For none but Samsons and Goliases
	It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten!
	Lean, raw-boned rascals! who would e'er suppose
	They had such courage and audacity?

CHARLES	Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd slaves,
	And hunger will enforce them to be more eager:
	Of old I know them; rather with their teeth
	The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege.

REIGNIER	I think, by some odd gimmors or device
	Their arms are set like clocks, stiff to strike on;
	Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do.
	By my consent, we'll even let them alone.

ALENCON	Be it so.

	[Enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS]

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

CHARLES	Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd:
	Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?
	Be not dismay'd, for succor is at hand:
	A holy maid hither with me I bring,
	Which by a vision sent to her from heaven
	Ordained is to raise this tedious siege
	And drive the English forth the bounds of France.
	The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,
	Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome:
	What's past and what's to come she can descry.
	Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words,
	For they are certain and unfallible.

CHARLES	Go, call her in.

	[Exit BASTARD OF ORLEANS]

	But first, to try her skill,
	Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place:
	Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern:
	By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.

	[Re-enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, with JOAN LA PUCELLE]

REIGNIER	Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?
	Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind;
	I know thee well, though never seen before.
	Be not amazed, there's nothing hid from me:
	In private will I talk with thee apart.
	Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile.

REIGNIER	She takes upon her bravely at first dash.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter,
	My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
	Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleased
	To shine on my contemptible estate:
	Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs,
	And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks,
	God's mother deigned to appear to me
	And in a vision full of majesty
	Will'd me to leave my base vocation
	And free my country from calamity:
	Her aid she promised and assured success:
	In complete glory she reveal'd herself;
	And, whereas I was black and swart before,
	With those clear rays which she infused on me
	That beauty am I bless'd with which you see.
	Ask me what question thou canst possible,
	And I will answer unpremeditated:
	My courage try by combat, if thou darest,
	And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
	Resolve on this, thou shalt be fortunate,
	If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

CHARLES	Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms:
	Only this proof I'll of thy valour make,
	In single combat thou shalt buckle with me,
	And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;
	Otherwise I renounce all confidence.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	I am prepared: here is my keen-edged sword,
	Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side;
	The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's
	churchyard,
	Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.

CHARLES	Then come, o' God's name; I fear no woman.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	And while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man.

	[Here they fight, and JOAN LA PUCELLE overcomes]

CHARLES	Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon
	And fightest with the sword of Deborah.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Christ's mother helps me, else I were too weak.

CHARLES	Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me:
	Impatiently I burn with thy desire;
	My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued.
	Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
	Let me thy servant and not sovereign be:
	'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	I must not yield to any rites of love,
	For my profession's sacred from above:
	When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
	Then will I think upon a recompense.

CHARLES	Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.

REIGNIER	My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

ALENCON	Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock;
	Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech.

REIGNIER	Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?

ALENCON	He may mean more than we poor men do know:
	These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.

REIGNIER	My lord, where are you? what devise you on?
	Shall we give over Orleans, or no?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants!
	Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard.

CHARLES	What she says I'll confirm: we'll fight it out.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.
	This night the siege assuredly I'll raise:
	Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days,
	Since I have entered into these wars.
	Glory is like a circle in the water,
	Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
	Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.
	With Henry's death the English circle ends;
	Dispersed are the glories it included.
	Now am I like that proud insulting ship
	Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once.

CHARLES	Was Mahomet inspired with a dove?
	Thou with an eagle art inspired then.
	Helen, the mother of great Constantine,
	Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters, were like thee.
	Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,
	How may I reverently worship thee enough?

ALENCON	Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.

REIGNIER	Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours;
	Drive them from Orleans and be immortalized.

CHARLES	Presently we'll try: come, let's away about it:
	No prophet will I trust, if she prove false.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE III	London. Before the Tower.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER, with his Serving-men in blue coats]

GLOUCESTER	I am come to survey the Tower this day:
	Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance.
	Where be these warders, that they wait not here?
	Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls.

First Warder	[Within]  Who's there that knocks so imperiously?

First Serving-Man	It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.

Second Warder	[Within]  Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in.

First Serving-Man	Villains, answer you so the lord protector?

First Warder	[Within]  The Lord protect him! so we answer him:
	We do no otherwise than we are will'd.

GLOUCESTER	Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine?
	There's none protector of the realm but I.
	Break up the gates, I'll be your warrantize.
	Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?

	[Gloucester's men rush at the Tower Gates, and
	WOODVILE the Lieutenant speaks within]

WOODVILE	What noise is this? what traitors have we here?

GLOUCESTER	Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear?
	Open the gates; here's Gloucester that would enter.

WOODVILE	Have patience, noble duke; I may not open;
	The Cardinal of Winchester forbids:
	From him I have express commandment
	That thou nor none of thine shall be let in.

GLOUCESTER	Faint-hearted Woodvile, prizest him 'fore me?
	Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate,
	Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook?
	Thou art no friend to God or to the king:
	Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly.

Serving-Men	Open the gates unto the lord protector,
	Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

	[Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates BISHOP
	OF WINCHESTER and his men in tawny coats]

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	How now, ambitious Humphry! what means this?

GLOUCESTER	Peel'd priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	I do, thou most usurping proditor,
	And not protector, of the king or realm.

GLOUCESTER	Stand back, thou manifest conspirator,
	Thou that contrivedst to murder our dead lord;
	Thou that givest whores indulgences to sin:
	I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat,
	If thou proceed in this thy insolence.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot:
	This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,
	To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.

GLOUCESTER	I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back:
	Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth
	I'll use to carry thee out of this place.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Do what thou darest; I beard thee to thy face.

GLOUCESTER	What! am I dared and bearded to my face?
	Draw, men, for all this privileged place;
	Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard,
	I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly:
	Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat:
	In spite of pope or dignities of church,
	Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the pope.

GLOUCESTER	Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a rope!
	Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay?
	Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.
	Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite!

	[Here GLOUCESTER's men beat out BISHOP OF
	WINCHESTER's men, and enter in the hurly-
	burly the Mayor of London and his Officers]

Mayor	Fie, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates,
	Thus contumeliously should break the peace!

GLOUCESTER	Peace, mayor! thou know'st little of my wrongs:
	Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king,
	Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens,
	One that still motions war and never peace,
	O'ercharging your free purses with large fines,
	That seeks to overthrow religion,
	Because he is protector of the realm,
	And would have armour here out of the Tower,
	To crown himself king and suppress the prince.

GLOUCESTER	I will not answer thee with words, but blows.

	[Here they skirmish again]

Mayor	Naught rests for me in this tumultuous strife
	But to make open proclamation:
	Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou canst,
	Cry.

Officer	All manner of men assembled here in arms this day
	against God's peace and the king's, we charge and
	command you, in his highness' name, to repair to
	your several dwelling-places; and not to wear,
	handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger,
	henceforward, upon pain of death.

GLOUCESTER	Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law:
	But we shall meet, and break our minds at large.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, we will meet; to thy cost, be sure:
	Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work.

Mayor	I'll call for clubs, if you will not away.
	This cardinal's more haughty than the devil.

GLOUCESTER	Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou mayst.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head;
	For I intend to have it ere long.

	[Exeunt, severally, GLOUCESTER and BISHOP OF
	WINCHESTER with their Serving-men]

Mayor	See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart.
	Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear!
	I myself fight not once in forty year.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE IV	Orleans.


	[Enter, on the walls, a Master Gunner and his Boy]

Master-Gunner	Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieged,
	And how the English have the suburbs won.

Boy	Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,
	Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim.

Master-Gunner	But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me:
	Chief master-gunner am I of this town;
	Something I must do to procure me grace.
	The prince's espials have informed me
	How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,
	Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars
	In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,
	And thence discover how with most advantage
	They may vex us with shot, or with assault.
	To intercept this inconvenience,
	A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have placed;
	And even these three days have I watch'd,
	If I could see them.
	Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer.
	If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word;
	And thou shalt find me at the governor's.

	[Exit]

Boy	Father, I warrant you; take you no care;
	I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them.

	[Exit]

	[Enter, on the turrets, SALISBURY and TALBOT,
	GLANSDALE, GARGRAVE, and others]

SALISBURY	Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
	How wert thou handled being prisoner?
	Or by what means got'st thou to be released?
	Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top.

TALBOT	The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner
	Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;
	For him was I exchanged and ransomed.
	But with a baser man of arms by far
	Once in contempt they would have barter'd me:
	Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and craved death,
	Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd.
	In fine, redeem'd I was as I desired.
	But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart,
	Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
	If I now had him brought into my power.

SALISBURY	Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd.

TALBOT	With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.
	In open market-place produced they me,
	To be a public spectacle to all:
	Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
	The scarecrow that affrights our children so.
	Then broke I from the officers that led me,
	And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground,
	To hurl at the beholders of my shame:
	My grisly countenance made others fly;
	None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
	In iron walls they deem'd me not secure;
	So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread,
	That they supposed I could rend bars of steel,
	And spurn in pieces posts of adamant:
	Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,
	That walked about me every minute-while;
	And if I did but stir out of my bed,
	Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

	[Enter the Boy with a linstock]

SALISBURY	I grieve to hear what torments you endured,
	But we will be revenged sufficiently
	Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
	Here, through this grate, I count each one
	and view the Frenchmen how they fortify:
	Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee.
	Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale,
	Let me have your express opinions
	Where is best place to make our battery next.

GARGRAVE	I think, at the north gate; for there stand lords.

GLANSDALE	And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.

TALBOT	For aught I see, this city must be famish'd,
	Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

	[Here they shoot. SALISBURY and GARGRAVE fall]

SALISBURY	O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!

GARGRAVE	O Lord, have mercy on me, woful man!

TALBOT	What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us?
	Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak:
	How farest thou, mirror of all martial men?
	One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off!
	Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand
	That hath contrived this woful tragedy!
	In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame;
	Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars;
	Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up,
	His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field.
	Yet livest thou, Salisbury? though thy speech doth fail,
	One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace:
	The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
	Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive,
	If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!
	Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.
	Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?
	Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
	Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort;
	Thou shalt not die whiles--
	He beckons with his hand and smiles on me.
	As who should say 'When I am dead and gone,
	Remember to avenge me on the French.'
	Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero,
	Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn:
	Wretched shall France be only in my name.

	[Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens]

	What stir is this? what tumult's in the heavens?
	Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head:
	The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,
	A holy prophetess new risen up,
	Is come with a great power to raise the siege.

	[Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans]

TALBOT	Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan!
	It irks his heart he cannot be revenged.
	Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you:
	Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish,
	Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels,
	And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.
	Convey me Salisbury into his tent,
	And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.

	[Alarum. Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE V	The same.


	[Here an alarum again: and TALBOT pursueth the
	DAUPHIN, and driveth him: then enter JOAN LA
	PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her, and exit
	after them then re-enter TALBOT]

TALBOT	Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?
	Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:
	A woman clad in armour chaseth them.

	[Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE]

	Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee;
	Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:
	Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
	And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.

	[Here they fight]

TALBOT	Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
	My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage
	And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder.
	But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.

	[They fight again]

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come:
	I must go victual Orleans forthwith.

	[A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers]

	O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
	Go, go, cheer up thy hungry-starved men;
	Help Salisbury to make his testament:
	This day is ours, as many more shall be.

	[Exit]

TALBOT	My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel;
	I know not where I am, nor what I do;
	A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal,
	Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists:
	So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench
	Are from their hives and houses driven away.
	They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs;
	Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.

	[A short alarum]

	Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight,
	Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
	Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:
	Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf,
	Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
	As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.

	[Alarum. Here another skirmish]

	It will not be: retire into your trenches:
	You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
	For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
	Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans,
	In spite of us or aught that we could do.
	O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
	The shame hereof will make me hide my head.

	[Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat; flourish]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT I



SCENE VI	The same.


	[Enter, on the walls, JOAN LA PUCELLE, CHARLES,
	REIGNIER, ALENCON, and Soldiers]

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Advance our waving colours on the walls;
	Rescued is Orleans from the English
	Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.

CHARLES	Divinest creature, Astraea's daughter,
	How shall I honour thee for this success?
	Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens
	That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next.
	France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!
	Recover'd is the town of Orleans:
	More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.

REIGNIER	Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town?
	Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires
	And feast and banquet in the open streets,
	To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

ALENCON	All France will be replete with mirth and joy,
	When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.

CHARLES	'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;
	For which I will divide my crown with her,
	And all the priests and friars in my realm
	Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
	A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear
	Than Rhodope's or Memphis' ever was:
	In memory of her when she is dead,
	Her ashes, in an urn more precious
	Than the rich-jewel'd of Darius,
	Transported shall be at high festivals
	Before the kings and queens of France.
	No longer on Saint Denis will we cry,
	But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.
	Come in, and let us banquet royally,
	After this golden day of victory.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE I	Before Orleans.


	[Enter a Sergeant of a band with two Sentinels]

Sergeant	Sirs, take your places and be vigilant:
	If any noise or soldier you perceive
	Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
	Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.

First Sentinel	Sergeant, you shall.

	[Exit Sergeant]

		Thus are poor servitors,
	When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
	Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain and cold.

	[Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and Forces, with
	scaling-ladders, their drums beating a dead march]

TALBOT	Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
	By whose approach the regions of Artois,
	Wallon and Picardy are friends to us,
	This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
	Having all day caroused and banqueted:
	Embrace we then this opportunity
	As fitting best to quittance their deceit
	Contrived by art and baleful sorcery.

BEDFORD	Coward of France! how much he wrongs his fame,
	Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,
	To join with witches and the help of hell!

BURGUNDY	Traitors have never other company.
	But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure?

TALBOT	A maid, they say.

BEDFORD	                  A maid! and be so martial!

BURGUNDY	Pray God she prove not masculine ere long,
	If underneath the standard of the French
	She carry armour as she hath begun.

TALBOT	Well, let them practise and converse with spirits:
	God is our fortress, in whose conquering name
	Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

BEDFORD	Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee.

TALBOT	Not all together: better far, I guess,
	That we do make our entrance several ways;
	That, if it chance the one of us do fail,
	The other yet may rise against their force.

BEDFORD	Agreed: I'll to yond corner.

BURGUNDY	And I to this.

TALBOT	And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave.
	Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right
	Of English Henry, shall this night appear
	How much in duty I am bound to both.

Sentinels	Arm! arm! the enemy doth make assault!

	[Cry: 'St. George,' 'A Talbot.']

	[The French leap over the walls in their shirts.
	Enter, several ways, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS,
	ALENCON, and REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready]

ALENCON	How now, my lords! what, all unready so?

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Unready! ay, and glad we 'scaped so well.

REIGNIER	'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,
	Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors.

ALENCON	Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms,
	Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise
	More venturous or desperate than this.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

REIGNIER	If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him.

ALENCON	Here cometh Charles: I marvel how he sped.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.

	[Enter CHARLES and JOAN LA PUCELLE]

CHARLES	Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?
	Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,
	Make us partakers of a little gain,
	That now our loss might be ten times so much?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend!
	At all times will you have my power alike?
	Sleeping or waking must I still prevail,
	Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
	Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good,
	This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.

CHARLES	Duke of Alencon, this was your default,
	That, being captain of the watch to-night,
	Did look no better to that weighty charge.

ALENCON	Had all your quarters been as safely kept
	As that whereof I had the government,
	We had not been thus shamefully surprised.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Mine was secure.

REIGNIER	                  And so was mine, my lord.

CHARLES	And, for myself, most part of all this night,
	Within her quarter and mine own precinct
	I was employ'd in passing to and fro,
	About relieving of the sentinels:
	Then how or which way should they first break in?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Question, my lords, no further of the case,
	How or which way: 'tis sure they found some place
	But weakly guarded, where the breach was made.
	And now there rests no other shift but this;
	To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispersed,
	And lay new platforms to endamage them.

	[Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying 'A
	Talbot! a Talbot!' They fly, leaving their
	clothes behind]

Soldier	I'll be so bold to take what they have left.
	The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword;
	For I have loaden me with many spoils,
	Using no other weapon but his name.

	[Exit]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE II	Orleans. Within the town.


	[Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and others]

BEDFORD	The day begins to break, and night is fled,
	Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.
	Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.

	[Retreat sounded]

TALBOT	Bring forth the body of old Salisbury,
	And here advance it in the market-place,
	The middle centre of this cursed town.
	Now have I paid my vow unto his soul;
	For every drop of blood was drawn from him,
	There hath at least five Frenchmen died tonight.
	And that hereafter ages may behold
	What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,
	Within their chiefest temple I'll erect
	A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd:
	Upon the which, that every one may read,
	Shall be engraved the sack of Orleans,
	The treacherous manner of his mournful death
	And what a terror he had been to France.
	But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,
	I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace,
	His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
	Nor any of his false confederates.

BEDFORD	'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
	Roused on the sudden from their drowsy beds,
	They did amongst the troops of armed men
	Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.

BURGUNDY	Myself, as far as I could well discern
	For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,
	Am sure I scared the Dauphin and his trull,
	When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,
	Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves
	That could not live asunder day or night.
	After that things are set in order here,
	We'll follow them with all the power we have.

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	All hail, my lords! which of this princely train
	Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
	So much applauded through the realm of France?

TALBOT	Here is the Talbot: who would speak with him?

Messenger	The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne,
	With modesty admiring thy renown,
	By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
	To visit her poor castle where she lies,
	That she may boast she hath beheld the man
	Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

BURGUNDY	Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars
	Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,
	When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.
	You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.

TALBOT	Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men
	Could not prevail with all their oratory,
	Yet hath a woman's kindness over-ruled:
	And therefore tell her I return great thanks,
	And in submission will attend on her.
	Will not your honours bear me company?

BEDFORD	No, truly; it is more than manners will:
	And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
	Are often welcomest when they are gone.

TALBOT	Well then, alone, since there's no remedy,
	I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.
	Come hither, captain.

	[Whispers]

		You perceive my mind?

Captain	I do, my lord, and mean accordingly.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT II



SCENE III	Auvergne. The COUNTESS's castle.


	[Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter]

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	Porter, remember what I gave in charge;
	And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.

Porter	Madam, I will.

	[Exit]

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	The plot is laid: if all things fall out right,
	I shall as famous be by this exploit
	As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death.
	Great is the rumor of this dreadful knight,
	And his achievements of no less account:
	Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears,
	To give their censure of these rare reports.

	[Enter Messenger and TALBOT]

Messenger	Madam,
	According as your ladyship desired,
	By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	And he is welcome. What! is this the man?

Messenger	Madam, it is.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	                  Is this the scourge of France?
	Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad
	That with his name the mothers still their babes?
	I see report is fabulous and false:
	I thought I should have seen some Hercules,
	A second Hector, for his grim aspect,
	And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.
	Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf!
	It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp
	Should strike such terror to his enemies.

TALBOT	Madam, I have been bold to trouble you;
	But since your ladyship is not at leisure,
	I'll sort some other time to visit you.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	What means he now? Go ask him whither he goes.

Messenger	Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves
	To know the cause of your abrupt departure.

TALBOT	Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,
	I go to certify her Talbot's here.

	[Re-enter Porter with keys]

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.

TALBOT	Prisoner! to whom?

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	To me, blood-thirsty lord;
	And for that cause I trained thee to my house.
	Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,
	For in my gallery thy picture hangs:
	But now the substance shall endure the like,
	And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
	That hast by tyranny these many years
	Wasted our country, slain our citizens
	And sent our sons and husbands captivate.

TALBOT	Ha, ha, ha!

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan.

TALBOT	I laugh to see your ladyship so fond
	To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow
	Whereon to practise your severity.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	Why, art not thou the man?

TALBOT	I am indeed.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	Then have I substance too.

TALBOT	No, no, I am but shadow of myself:
	You are deceived, my substance is not here;
	For what you see is but the smallest part
	And least proportion of humanity:
	I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here,
	It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,
	Your roof were not sufficient to contain't.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	This is a riddling merchant for the nonce;
	He will be here, and yet he is not here:
	How can these contrarieties agree?

TALBOT	That will I show you presently.

	[Winds his horn. Drums strike up: a peal of
	ordnance. Enter soldiers]

	How say you, madam? are you now persuaded
	That Talbot is but shadow of himself?
	These are his substance, sinews, arms and strength,
	With which he yoketh your rebellious necks,
	Razeth your cities and subverts your towns
	And in a moment makes them desolate.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse:
	I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited
	And more than may be gather'd by thy shape.
	Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath;
	For I am sorry that with reverence
	I did not entertain thee as thou art.

TALBOT	Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue
	The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake
	The outward composition of his body.
	What you have done hath not offended me;
	Nor other satisfaction do I crave,
	But only, with your patience, that we may
	Taste of your wine and see what cates you have;
	For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.

COUNTESS
OF AUVERGNE	With all my heart, and think me honoured
	To feast so great a warrior in my house.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT II


SCENE IV	London. The Temple-garden.


	[Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK;
	RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another Lawyer]

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence?
	Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

SUFFOLK	Within the Temple-hall we were too loud;
	The garden here is more convenient.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth;
	Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error?

SUFFOLK	Faith, I have been a truant in the law,
	And never yet could frame my will to it;
	And therefore frame the law unto my will.

SOMERSET	Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us.

WARWICK	Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch;
	Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;
	Between two blades, which bears the better temper:
	Between two horses, which doth bear him best;
	Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye;
	I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgement;
	But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,
	Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:
	The truth appears so naked on my side
	That any purblind eye may find it out.

SOMERSET	And on my side it is so well apparell'd,
	So clear, so shining and so evident
	That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak,
	In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts:
	Let him that is a true-born gentleman
	And stands upon the honour of his birth,
	If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,
	From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.

SOMERSET	Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer,
	But dare maintain the party of the truth,
	Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.

WARWICK	I love no colours, and without all colour
	Of base insinuating flattery
	I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.

SUFFOLK	I pluck this red rose with young Somerset
	And say withal I think he held the right.

VERNON	Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more,
	Till you conclude that he upon whose side
	The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree
	Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

SOMERSET	Good Master Vernon, it is well objected:
	If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	And I.

VERNON	Then for the truth and plainness of the case.
	I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here,
	Giving my verdict on the white rose side.

SOMERSET	Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,
	Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red
	And fall on my side so, against your will.

VERNON	If I my lord, for my opinion bleed,
	Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt
	And keep me on the side where still I am.

SOMERSET	Well, well, come on: who else?

Lawyer	Unless my study and my books be false,
	The argument you held was wrong in you:

	[To SOMERSET]

	In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Now, Somerset, where is your argument?

SOMERSET	Here in my scabbard, meditating that
	Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our roses;
	For pale they look with fear, as witnessing
	The truth on our side.

SOMERSET	No, Plantagenet,
	'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks
	Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses,
	And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?

SOMERSET	Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth;
	Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.

SOMERSET	Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses,
	That shall maintain what I have said is true,
	Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,
	I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

SUFFOLK	Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and thee.

SUFFOLK	I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.

SOMERSET	Away, away, good William de la Pole!
	We grace the yeoman by conversing with him.

WARWICK	Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset;
	His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence,
	Third son to the third Edward King of England:
	Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root?

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	He bears him on the place's privilege,
	Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.

SOMERSET	By him that made me, I'll maintain my words
	On any plot of ground in Christendom.
	Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge,
	For treason executed in our late king's days?
	And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted,
	Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry?
	His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;
	And, till thou be restored, thou art a yeoman.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	My father was attached, not attainted,
	Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor;
	And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,
	Were growing time once ripen'd to my will.
	For your partaker Pole and you yourself,
	I'll note you in my book of memory,
	To scourge you for this apprehension:
	Look to it well and say you are well warn'd.

SOMERSET	Ah, thou shalt find us ready for thee still;
	And know us by these colours for thy foes,
	For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,
	As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,
	Will I for ever and my faction wear,
	Until it wither with me to my grave
	Or flourish to the height of my degree.

SUFFOLK	Go forward and be choked with thy ambition!
	And so farewell until I meet thee next.

	[Exit]

SOMERSET	Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard.

	[Exit]

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	How I am braved and must perforce endure it!

WARWICK	This blot that they object against your house
	Shall be wiped out in the next parliament
	Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester;
	And if thou be not then created York,
	I will not live to be accounted Warwick.
	Meantime, in signal of my love to thee,
	Against proud Somerset and William Pole,
	Will I upon thy party wear this rose:
	And here I prophesy: this brawl to-day,
	Grown to this faction in the Temple-garden,
	Shall send between the red rose and the white
	A thousand souls to death and deadly night.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you,
	That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.

VERNON	In your behalf still will I wear the same.

Lawyer	And so will I.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Thanks, gentle sir.
	Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say
	This quarrel will drink blood another day.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT II


SCENE V	The Tower of London.


	[Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair, and Gaolers]

MORTIMER	Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,
	Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.
	Even like a man new haled from the rack,
	So fare my limbs with long imprisonment.
	And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death,
	Nestor-like aged in an age of care,
	Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
	These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,
	Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent;
	Weak shoulders, overborne with burthening grief,
	And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine
	That droops his sapless branches to the ground;
	Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb,
	Unable to support this lump of clay,
	Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,
	As witting I no other comfort have.
	But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?

First Gaoler	Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come:
	We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber;
	And answer was return'd that he will come.

MORTIMER	Enough: my soul shall then be satisfied.
	Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
	Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
	Before whose glory I was great in arms,
	This loathsome sequestration have I had:
	And even since then hath Richard been obscured,
	Deprived of honour and inheritance.
	But now the arbitrator of despairs,
	Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
	With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence:
	I would his troubles likewise were expired,
	That so he might recover what was lost.

	[Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET]

First Gaoler	My lord, your loving nephew now is come.

MORTIMER	Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used,
	Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes.

MORTIMER	Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck,
	And in his bosom spend my latter gasp:
	O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks,
	That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.
	And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock,
	Why didst thou say, of late thou wert despised?

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	First, lean thine aged back against mine arm;
	And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.
	This day, in argument upon a case,
	Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me;
	Among which terms he used his lavish tongue
	And did upbraid me with my father's death:
	Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,
	Else with the like I had requited him.
	Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake,
	In honour of a true Plantagenet
	And for alliance sake, declare the cause
	My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head.

MORTIMER	That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me
	And hath detain'd me all my flowering youth
	Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,
	Was cursed instrument of his decease.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Discover more at large what cause that was,
	For I am ignorant and cannot guess.

MORTIMER	I will, if that my fading breath permit
	And death approach not ere my tale be done.
	Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,
	Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward's son,
	The first-begotten and the lawful heir,
	Of Edward king, the third of that descent:
	During whose reign the Percies of the north,
	Finding his usurpation most unjust,
	Endeavor'd my advancement to the throne:
	The reason moved these warlike lords to this
	Was, for that--young King Richard thus removed,
	Leaving no heir begotten of his body--
	I was the next by birth and parentage;
	For by my mother I derived am
	From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son
	To King Edward the Third; whereas he
	From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree,
	Being but fourth of that heroic line.
	But mark: as in this haughty attempt
	They laboured to plant the rightful heir,
	I lost my liberty and they their lives.
	Long after this, when Henry the Fifth,
	Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign,
	Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then derived
	From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York,
	Marrying my sister that thy mother was,
	Again in pity of my hard distress
	Levied an army, weening to redeem
	And have install'd me in the diadem:
	But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl
	And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
	In whom the tide rested, were suppress'd.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Of which, my lord, your honour is the last.

MORTIMER	True; and thou seest that I no issue have
	And that my fainting words do warrant death;
	Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather:
	But yet be wary in thy studious care.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Thy grave admonishments prevail with me:
	But yet, methinks, my father's execution
	Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.

MORTIMER	With silence, nephew, be thou politic:
	Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster,
	And like a mountain, not to be removed.
	But now thy uncle is removing hence:
	As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd
	With long continuance in a settled place.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	O, uncle, would some part of my young years
	Might but redeem the passage of your age!

MORTIMER	Thou dost then wrong me, as that slaughterer doth
	Which giveth many wounds when one will kill.
	Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good;
	Only give order for my funeral:
	And so farewell, and fair be all thy hopes
	And prosperous be thy life in peace and war!

	[Dies]

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul!
	In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage
	And like a hermit overpass'd thy days.
	Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast;
	And what I do imagine let that rest.
	Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself
	Will see his burial better than his life.

	[Exeunt Gaolers, bearing out the body of MORTIMER]

	Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,
	Choked with ambition of the meaner sort:
	And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries,
	Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house:
	I doubt not but with honour to redress;
	And therefore haste I to the parliament,
	Either to be restored to my blood,
	Or make my ill the advantage of my good.

	[Exit]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE I	London. The Parliament-house.


	[Flourish. Enter KING HENRY VI, EXETER, GLOUCESTER,
	WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF
	WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others.
	GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; BISHOP OF
	WINCHESTER snatches it, and tears it]

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Comest thou with deep premeditated lines,
	With written pamphlets studiously devised,
	Humphrey of Gloucester? If thou canst accuse,
	Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,
	Do it without invention, suddenly;
	As I with sudden and extemporal speech
	Purpose to answer what thou canst object.

GLOUCESTER	Presumptuous priest! this place commands my patience,
	Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me.
	Think not, although in writing I preferr'd
	The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes,
	That therefore I have forged, or am not able
	Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen:
	No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness,
	Thy lewd, pestiferous and dissentious pranks,
	As very infants prattle of thy pride.
	Thou art a most pernicious usurer,
	Forward by nature, enemy to peace;
	Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems
	A man of thy profession and degree;
	And for thy treachery, what's more manifest?
	In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life,
	As well at London bridge as at the Tower.
	Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,
	The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
	From envious malice of thy swelling heart.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe
	To give me hearing what I shall reply.
	If I were covetous, ambitious or perverse,
	As he will have me, how am I so poor?
	Or how haps it I seek not to advance
	Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling?
	And for dissension, who preferreth peace
	More than I do?--except I be provoked.
	No, my good lords, it is not that offends;
	It is not that that hath incensed the duke:
	It is, because no one should sway but he;
	No one but he should be about the king;
	And that engenders thunder in his breast
	And makes him roar these accusations forth.
	But he shall know I am as good--

GLOUCESTER	As good!
	Thou bastard of my grandfather!

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray,
	But one imperious in another's throne?

GLOUCESTER	Am I not protector, saucy priest?

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	And am not I a prelate of the church?

GLOUCESTER	Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps
	And useth it to patronage his theft.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Unreverent Gloster!

GLOUCESTER	Thou art reverent
	Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Rome shall remedy this.

WARWICK	Roam thither, then.

SOMERSET	My lord, it were your duty to forbear.

WARWICK	Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.

SOMERSET	Methinks my lord should be religious
	And know the office that belongs to such.

WARWICK	Methinks his lordship should be humbler;
	it fitteth not a prelate so to plead.

SOMERSET	Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near.

WARWICK	State holy or unhallow'd, what of that?
	Is not his grace protector to the king?

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	[Aside]  Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue,
	Lest it be said 'Speak, sirrah, when you should;
	Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?'
	Else would I have a fling at Winchester.

KING HENRY VI	Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester,
	The special watchmen of our English weal,
	I would prevail, if prayers might prevail,
	To join your hearts in love and amity.
	O, what a scandal is it to our crown,
	That two such noble peers as ye should jar!
	Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell
	Civil dissension is a viperous worm
	That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.

	[A noise within, 'Down with the tawny-coats!']

	What tumult's this?

WARWICK	An uproar, I dare warrant,
	Begun through malice of the bishop's men.

	[A noise again, 'Stones! stones!' Enter Mayor]

Mayor	O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry,
	Pity the city of London, pity us!
	The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men,
	Forbidden late to carry any weapon,
	Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones
	And banding themselves in contrary parts
	Do pelt so fast at one another's pate
	That many have their giddy brains knock'd out:
	Our windows are broke down in every street
	And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops.

	[Enter Serving-men, in skirmish, with bloody pates]

KING HENRY VI	We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,
	To hold your slaughtering hands and keep the peace.
	Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.

First Serving-man	Nay, if we be forbidden stones,
	We'll fall to it with our teeth.

Second Serving-man	Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.

	[Skirmish again]

GLOUCESTER	You of my household, leave this peevish broil
	And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.

Third Serving-man	My lord, we know your grace to be a man
	Just and upright; and, for your royal birth,
	Inferior to none but to his majesty:
	And ere that we will suffer such a prince,
	So kind a father of the commonweal,
	To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,
	We and our wives and children all will fight
	And have our bodies slaughtered by thy foes.

First Serving-man	Ay, and the very parings of our nails
	Shall pitch a field when we are dead.

	[Begin again]

GLOUCESTER	Stay, stay, I say!
	And if you love me, as you say you do,
	Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.

KING HENRY VI	O, how this discord doth afflict my soul!
	Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold
	My sighs and tears and will not once relent?
	Who should be pitiful, if you be not?
	Or who should study to prefer a peace.
	If holy churchmen take delight in broils?

WARWICK	Yield, my lord protector; yield, Winchester;
	Except you mean with obstinate repulse
	To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm.
	You see what mischief and what murder too
	Hath been enacted through your enmity;
	Then be at peace except ye thirst for blood.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	He shall submit, or I will never yield.

GLOUCESTER	Compassion on the king commands me stoop;
	Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest
	Should ever get that privilege of me.

WARWICK	Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the duke
	Hath banish'd moody discontented fury,
	As by his smoothed brows it doth appear:
	Why look you still so stern and tragical?

GLOUCESTER	Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.

KING HENRY VI	Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach
	That malice was a great and grievous sin;
	And will not you maintain the thing you teach,
	But prove a chief offender in the same?

WARWICK	Sweet king! the bishop hath a kindly gird.
	For shame, my lord of Winchester, relent!
	What, shall a child instruct you what to do?

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee;
	Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.--
	See here, my friends and loving countrymen,
	This token serveth for a flag of truce
	Betwixt ourselves and all our followers:
	So help me God, as I dissemble not!

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	[Aside]  So help me God, as I intend it not!

KING HENRY VI	O, loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester,
	How joyful am I made by this contract!
	Away, my masters! trouble us no more;
	But join in friendship, as your lords have done.

First Serving-man	Content: I'll to the surgeon's.

Second Serving-man	And so will I.

Third Serving-man	And I will see what physic the tavern affords.

	[Exeunt Serving-men, Mayor, &c]

WARWICK	Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign,
	Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
	We do exhibit to your majesty.

GLOUCESTER	Well urged, my Lord of Warwick: or sweet prince,
	And if your grace mark every circumstance,
	You have great reason to do Richard right;
	Especially for those occasions
	At Eltham Place I told your majesty.

KING HENRY VI	And those occasions, uncle, were of force:
	Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is
	That Richard be restored to his blood.

WARWICK	Let Richard be restored to his blood;
	So shall his father's wrongs be recompensed.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.

KING HENRY VI	If Richard will be true, not that alone
	But all the whole inheritance I give
	That doth belong unto the house of York,
	From whence you spring by lineal descent.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	Thy humble servant vows obedience
	And humble service till the point of death.

KING HENRY VI	Stoop then and set your knee against my foot;
	And, in reguerdon of that duty done,
	I gird thee with the valiant sword of York:
	Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
	And rise created princely Duke of York.

RICHARD
PLANTAGENET	And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall!
	And as my duty springs, so perish they
	That grudge one thought against your majesty!

ALL	Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke of York!

SOMERSET	[Aside]  Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York!

GLOUCESTER	Now will it best avail your majesty
	To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France:
	The presence of a king engenders love
	Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends,
	As it disanimates his enemies.

KING HENRY VI	When Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes;
	For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

GLOUCESTER	Your ships already are in readiness.

	[Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but EXETER]

EXETER	Ay, we may march in England or in France,
	Not seeing what is likely to ensue.
	This late dissension grown betwixt the peers
	Burns under feigned ashes of forged love
	And will at last break out into a flame:
	As fester'd members rot but by degree,
	Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away,
	So will this base and envious discord breed.
	And now I fear that fatal prophecy
	Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth
	Was in the mouth of every sucking babe;
	That Henry born at Monmouth should win all
	And Henry born at Windsor lose all:
	Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish
	His days may finish ere that hapless time.

	[Exit]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE II	France. Before Rouen.


	[Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE disguised, with four Soldiers
	with sacks upon their backs]

JOAN LA PUCELLE	These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen,
	Through which our policy must make a breach:
	Take heed, be wary how you place your words;
	Talk like the vulgar sort of market men
	That come to gather money for their corn.
	If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,
	And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
	I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,
	That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.

First Soldier	Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
	And we be lords and rulers over Rouen;
	Therefore we'll knock.

	[Knocks]

Watch	[Within]  Qui est la?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Paysans, pauvres gens de France;
	Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.

Watch	Enter, go in; the market bell is rung.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENCON,
	REIGNIER, and forces]

CHARLES	Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem!
	And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants;
	Now she is there, how will she specify
	Where is the best and safest passage in?

REIGNIER	By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;
	Which, once discern'd, shows that her meaning is,
	No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd.

	[Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE on the top, thrusting out a
	torch burning]

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Behold, this is the happy wedding torch
	That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,
	But burning fatal to the Talbotites!

	[Exit]

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend;
	The burning torch in yonder turret stands.

CHARLES	Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
	A prophet to the fall of all our foes!

REIGNIER	Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends;
	Enter, and cry 'The Dauphin!' presently,
	And then do execution on the watch.

	[Alarum. Exeunt]

	[An alarum. Enter TALBOT in an excursion]

TALBOT	France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
	If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
	Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
	Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
	That hardly we escaped the pride of France.

	[Exit]

	[An alarum: excursions. BEDFORD, brought in sick
	in a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without:
	within JOAN LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD OF ORLEANS,
	ALENCON, and REIGNIER, on the walls]

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for bread?
	I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast
	Before he'll buy again at such a rate:
	'Twas full of darnel; do you like the taste?

BURGUNDY	Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan!
	I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own
	And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.

CHARLES	Your grace may starve perhaps before that time.

BEDFORD	O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!

JOAN LA PUCELLE	What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance,
	And run a tilt at death within a chair?

TALBOT	Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite,
	Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours!
	Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age
	And twit with cowardice a man half dead?
	Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,
	Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Are ye so hot, sir? yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
	If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.

	[The English whisper together in council]

	God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?

TALBOT	Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,
	To try if that our own be ours or no.

TALBOT	I speak not to that railing Hecate,
	But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest;
	Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?

ALENCON	Signior, no.

TALBOT	Signior, hang! base muleters of France!
	Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls
	And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Away, captains! let's get us from the walls;
	For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.
	God be wi' you, my lord! we came but to tell you
	That we are here.

	[Exeunt from the walls]

TALBOT	And there will we be too, ere it be long,
	Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!
	Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,
	Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France,
	Either to get the town again or die:
	And I, as sure as English Henry lives
	And as his father here was conqueror,
	As sure as in this late-betrayed town
	Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried,
	So sure I swear to get the town or die.

BURGUNDY	My vows are equal partners with thy vows.

TALBOT	But, ere we go, regard this dying prince,
	The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord,
	We will bestow you in some better place,
	Fitter for sickness and for crazy age.

BEDFORD	Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me:
	Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen
	And will be partner of your weal or woe.

BURGUNDY	Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.

BEDFORD	Not to be gone from hence; for once I read
	That stout Pendragon in his litter sick
	Came to the field and vanquished his foes:
	Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts,
	Because I ever found them as myself.

TALBOT	Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!
	Then be it so: heavens keep old Bedford safe!
	And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,
	But gather we our forces out of hand
	And set upon our boasting enemy.

	[Exeunt all but BEDFORD and Attendants]

	[An alarum: excursions. Enter FASTOLFE and
	a Captain]

Captain	Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?

FASTOLFE	Whither away! to save myself by flight:
	We are like to have the overthrow again.

Captain	What! will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?

FASTOLFE	Ay,
	All the Talbots in the world, to save my life!

	[Exit]

Captain	Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!

	[Exit]

	[Retreat: excursions. JOAN LA PUCELLE, ALENCON,
	and CHARLES fly]

BEDFORD	Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please,
	For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.
	What is the trust or strength of foolish man?
	They that of late were daring with their scoffs
	Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.

	[BEDFORD dies, and is carried in by two in his chair]

	[An alarum. Re-enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the rest]

TALBOT	Lost, and recover'd in a day again!
	This is a double honour, Burgundy:
	Yet heavens have glory for this victory!

BURGUNDY	Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy
	Enshrines thee in his heart and there erects
	Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments.

TALBOT	Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?
	I think her old familiar is asleep:
	Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?
	What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief
	That such a valiant company are fled.
	Now will we take some order in the town,
	Placing therein some expert officers,
	And then depart to Paris to the king,
	For there young Henry with his nobles lie.

BURGUNDY	What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.

TALBOT	But yet, before we go, let's not forget
	The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased,
	But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen:
	A braver soldier never couched lance,
	A gentler heart did never sway in court;
	But kings and mightiest potentates must die,
	For that's the end of human misery.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE III	The plains near Rouen.


	[Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS, ALENCON, JOAN
	LA PUCELLE, and forces]

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Dismay not, princes, at this accident,
	Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered:
	Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,
	For things that are not to be remedied.
	Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while
	And like a peacock sweep along his tail;
	We'll pull his plumes and take away his train,
	If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled.

CHARLES	We have been guided by thee hitherto,
	And of thy cunning had no diffidence:
	One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Search out thy wit for secret policies,
	And we will make thee famous through the world.

ALENCON	We'll set thy statue in some holy place,
	And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint:
	Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:
	By fair persuasions mix'd with sugar'd words
	We will entice the Duke of Burgundy
	To leave the Talbot and to follow us.

CHARLES	Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that,
	France were no place for Henry's warriors;
	Nor should that nation boast it so with us,
	But be extirped from our provinces.

ALENCON	For ever should they be expulsed from France
	And not have title of an earldom here.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Your honours shall perceive how I will work
	To bring this matter to the wished end.

	[Drum sounds afar off]

	Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive
	Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.

	[Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over
	at a distance, TALBOT and his forces]

	There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread,
	And all the troops of English after him.

	[French march. Enter BURGUNDY and forces]

	Now in the rearward comes the duke and his:
	Fortune in favour makes him lag behind.
	Summon a parley; we will talk with him.

	[Trumpets sound a parley]

CHARLES	A parley with the Duke of Burgundy!

BURGUNDY	Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.

BURGUNDY	What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence.

CHARLES	Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!
	Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.

BURGUNDY	Speak on; but be not over-tedious.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
	And see the cities and the towns defaced
	By wasting ruin of the cruel foe.
	As looks the mother on her lowly babe
	When death doth close his tender dying eyes,
	See, see the pining malady of France;
	Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,
	Which thou thyself hast given her woful breast.
	O, turn thy edged sword another way;
	Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help.
	One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom
	Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore:
	Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,
	And wash away thy country's stained spots.

BURGUNDY	Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,
	Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,
	Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
	Who joint'st thou with but with a lordly nation
	That will not trust thee but for profit's sake?
	When Talbot hath set footing once in France
	And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,
	Who then but English Henry will be lord
	And thou be thrust out like a fugitive?
	Call we to mind, and mark but this for proof,
	Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe?
	And was he not in England prisoner?
	But when they heard he was thine enemy,
	They set him free without his ransom paid,
	In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.
	See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen
	And joint'st with them will be thy slaughtermen.
	Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord:
	Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.

BURGUNDY	I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers
	Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
	And made me almost yield upon my knees.
	Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen,
	And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace:
	My forces and my power of men are yours:
	So farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	[Aside]  Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again!

CHARLES	Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	And doth beget new courage in our breasts.

ALENCON	Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this,
	And doth deserve a coronet of gold.

CHARLES	Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers,
	And seek how we may prejudice the foe.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT III



SCENE IV	Paris. The palace.


	[Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, BISHOP OF
	WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK,
	EXETER, VERNON	BASSET, and others. To them
	with his Soldiers, TALBOT]

TALBOT	My gracious prince, and honourable peers,
	Hearing of your arrival in this realm,
	I have awhile given truce unto my wars,
	To do my duty to my sovereign:
	In sign, whereof, this arm, that hath reclaim'd
	To your obedience fifty fortresses,
	Twelve cities and seven walled towns of strength,
	Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,
	Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet,
	And with submissive loyalty of heart
	Ascribes the glory of his conquest got
	First to my God and next unto your grace.

	[Kneels]

KING HENRY VI	Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester,
	That hath so long been resident in France?

GLOUCESTER	Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege.

KING HENRY VI	Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord!
	When I was young, as yet I am not old,
	I do remember how my father said
	A stouter champion never handled sword.
	Long since we were resolved of your truth,
	Your faithful service and your toil in war;
	Yet never have you tasted our reward,
	Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks,
	Because till now we never saw your face:
	Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts,
	We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury;
	And in our coronation take your place.

	[Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but VERNON and BASSET]

VERNON	Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea,
	Disgracing of these colours that I wear
	In honour of my noble Lord of York:
	Darest thou maintain the former words thou spakest?

BASSET	Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage
	The envious barking of your saucy tongue
	Against my lord the Duke of Somerset.

VERNON	Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.

BASSET	Why, what is he? as good a man as York.

VERNON	Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that.

	[Strikes him]

BASSET	Villain, thou know'st the law of arms is such
	That whoso draws a sword, 'tis present death,
	Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood.
	But I'll unto his majesty, and crave
	I may have liberty to venge this wrong;
	When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost.

VERNON	Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you;
	And, after, meet you sooner than you would.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE I	Paris. A hall of state.


	[Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, BISHOP OF
	WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK,
	TALBOT, EXETER, the Governor, of Paris, and others]

GLOUCESTER	Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head.

BISHOP
OF WINCHESTER	God save King Henry, of that name the sixth!

GLOUCESTER	Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,
	That you elect no other king but him;
	Esteem none friends but such as are his friends,
	And none your foes but such as shall pretend
	Malicious practises against his state:
	This shall ye do, so help you righteous God!

	[Enter FASTOLFE]

FASTOLFE	My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais,
	To haste unto your coronation,
	A letter was deliver'd to my hands,
	Writ to your grace from the Duke of Burgundy.

TALBOT	Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee!
	I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next,
	To tear the garter from thy craven's leg,

	[Plucking it off]

	Which I have done, because unworthily
	Thou wast installed in that high degree.
	Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest
	This dastard, at the battle of Patay,
	When but in all I was six thousand strong
	And that the French were almost ten to one,
	Before we met or that a stroke was given,
	Like to a trusty squire did run away:
	In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;
	Myself and divers gentlemen beside
	Were there surprised and taken prisoners.
	Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss;
	Or whether that such cowards ought to wear
	This ornament of knighthood, yea or no.

GLOUCESTER	To say the truth, this fact was infamous
	And ill beseeming any common man,
	Much more a knight, a captain and a leader.

TALBOT	When first this order was ordain'd, my lords,
	Knights of the garter were of noble birth,
	Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage,
	Such as were grown to credit by the wars;
	Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress,
	But always resolute in most extremes.
	He then that is not furnish'd in this sort
	Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,
	Profaning this most honourable order,
	And should, if I were worthy to be judge,
	Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain
	That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.

KING HENRY VI	Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom!
	Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight:
	Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.

	[Exit FASTOLFE]

	And now, my lord protector, view the letter
	Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.

GLOUCESTER	What means his grace, that he hath changed his style?
	No more but, plain and bluntly, 'To the king!'
	Hath he forgot he is his sovereign?
	Or doth this churlish superscription
	Pretend some alteration in good will?
	What's here?

	[Reads]

	'I have, upon especial cause,
	Moved with compassion of my country's wreck,
	Together with the pitiful complaints
	Of such as your oppression feeds upon,
	Forsaken your pernicious faction
	And join'd with Charles, the rightful King of France.'
	O monstrous treachery! can this be so,
	That in alliance, amity and oaths,
	There should be found such false dissembling guile?

KING HENRY VI	What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?

GLOUCESTER	He doth, my lord, and is become your foe.

KING HENRY VI	Is that the worst this letter doth contain?

GLOUCESTER	It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.

KING HENRY VI	Why, then, Lord Talbot there shall talk with him
	And give him chastisement for this abuse.
	How say you, my lord? are you not content?

TALBOT	Content, my liege! yes, but that I am prevented,
	I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.

KING HENRY VI	Then gather strength and march unto him straight:
	Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason
	And what offence it is to flout his friends.

TALBOT	I go, my lord, in heart desiring still
	You may behold confusion of your foes.

	[Exit]

	[Enter VERNON and BASSET]

VERNON	Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign.

BASSET	And me, my lord, grant me the combat too.

YORK	This is my servant: hear him, noble prince.

SOMERSET	And this is mine: sweet Henry, favour him.

KING HENRY VI	Be patient, lords; and give them leave to speak.
	Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim?
	And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom?

VERNON	With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.

BASSET	And I with him; for he hath done me wrong.

KING HENRY VI	What is that wrong whereof you both complain?
	First let me know, and then I'll answer you.

BASSET	Crossing the sea from England into France,
	This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,
	Upbraided me about the rose I wear;
	Saying, the sanguine colour of the leaves
	Did represent my master's blushing cheeks,
	When stubbornly he did repugn the truth
	About a certain question in the law
	Argued betwixt the Duke of York and him;
	With other vile and ignominious terms:
	In confutation of which rude reproach
	And in defence of my lord's worthiness,
	I crave the benefit of law of arms.

VERNON	And that is my petition, noble lord:
	For though he seem with forged quaint conceit
	To set a gloss upon his bold intent,
	Yet know, my lord, I was provoked by him;
	And he first took exceptions at this badge,
	Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower
	Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.

YORK	Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?

SOMERSET	Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out,
	Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.

KING HENRY VI	Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men,
	When for so slight and frivolous a cause
	Such factious emulations shall arise!
	Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,
	Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

YORK	Let this dissension first be tried by fight,
	And then your highness shall command a peace.

SOMERSET	The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;
	Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

YORK	There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.

VERNON	Nay, let it rest where it began at first.

BASSET	Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.

GLOUCESTER	Confirm it so! Confounded be your strife!
	And perish ye, with your audacious prate!
	Presumptuous vassals, are you not ashamed
	With this immodest clamorous outrage
	To trouble and disturb the king and us?
	And you, my lords, methinks you do not well
	To bear with their perverse objections;
	Much less to take occasion from their mouths
	To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves:
	Let me persuade you take a better course.

EXETER	It grieves his highness: good my lords, be friends.

KING HENRY VI	Come hither, you that would be combatants:
	Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour,
	Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.
	And you, my lords, remember where we are,
	In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation:
	If they perceive dissension in our looks
	And that within ourselves we disagree,
	How will their grudging stomachs be provoked
	To wilful disobedience, and rebel!
	Beside, what infamy will there arise,
	When foreign princes shall be certified
	That for a toy, a thing of no regard,
	King Henry's peers and chief nobility
	Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France!
	O, think upon the conquest of my father,
	My tender years, and let us not forego
	That for a trifle that was bought with blood
	Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.
	I see no reason, if I wear this rose,

	[Putting on a red rose]

	That any one should therefore be suspicious
	I more incline to Somerset than York:
	Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both:
	As well they may upbraid me with my crown,
	Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd.
	But your discretions better can persuade
	Than I am able to instruct or teach:
	And therefore, as we hither came in peace,
	So let us still continue peace and love.
	Cousin of York, we institute your grace
	To be our regent in these parts of France:
	And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite
	Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;
	And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,
	Go cheerfully together and digest.
	Your angry choler on your enemies.
	Ourself, my lord protector and the rest
	After some respite will return to Calais;
	From thence to England; where I hope ere long
	To be presented, by your victories,
	With Charles, Alencon and that traitorous rout.

	[Flourish. Exeunt all but YORK, WARWICK, EXETER
	and VERNON]

WARWICK	My Lord of York, I promise you, the king
	Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

YORK	And so he did; but yet I like it not,
	In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

WARWICK	Tush, that was but his fancy, blame him not;
	I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.

YORK	An if I wist he did,--but let it rest;
	Other affairs must now be managed.

	[Exeunt all but EXETER]

EXETER	Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice;
	For, had the passions of thy heart burst out,
	I fear we should have seen decipher'd there
	More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,
	Than yet can be imagined or supposed.
	But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees
	This jarring discord of nobility,
	This shouldering of each other in the court,
	This factious bandying of their favourites,
	But that it doth presage some ill event.
	'Tis much when sceptres are in children's hands;
	But more when envy breeds unkind division;
	There comes the rain, there begins confusion.

	[Exit]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE II	Before Bourdeaux.


	[Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum]

TALBOT	Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter:
	Summon their general unto the wall.

	[Trumpet sounds. Enter General and others, aloft]

	English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth,
	Servant in arms to Harry King of England;
	And thus he would: Open your city gates;
	Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours,
	And do him homage as obedient subjects;
	And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power:
	But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,
	You tempt the fury of my three attendants,
	Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;
	Who in a moment even with the earth
	Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers,
	If you forsake the offer of their love.

General	Thou ominous and fearful owl of death,
	Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge!
	The period of thy tyranny approacheth.
	On us thou canst not enter but by death;
	For, I protest, we are well fortified
	And strong enough to issue out and fight:
	If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,
	Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee:
	On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd,
	To wall thee from the liberty of flight;
	And no way canst thou turn thee for redress,
	But death doth front thee with apparent spoil
	And pale destruction meets thee in the face.
	Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament
	To rive their dangerous artillery
	Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.
	Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,
	Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit!
	This is the latest glory of thy praise
	That I, thy enemy, due thee withal;
	For ere the glass, that now begins to run,
	Finish the process of his sandy hour,
	These eyes, that see thee now well coloured,
	Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale and dead.

	[Drum afar off]

	Hark! hark! the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell,
	Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul;
	And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

	[Exeunt General, &c]

TALBOT	He fables not; I hear the enemy:
	Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.
	O, negligent and heedless discipline!
	How are we park'd and bounded in a pale,
	A little herd of England's timorous deer,
	Mazed with a yelping kennel of French curs!
	If we be English deer, be then in blood;
	Not rascal-like, to fall down with a pinch,
	But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags,
	Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel
	And make the cowards stand aloof at bay:
	Sell every man his life as dear as mine,
	And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.
	God and Saint George, Talbot and England's right,
	Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight!

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE III	Plains in Gascony.


	[Enter a Messenger that meets YORK. Enter YORK
	with trumpet and many Soldiers]

YORK	Are not the speedy scouts return'd again,
	That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?

Messenger	They are return'd, my lord, and give it out
	That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power,
	To fight with Talbot: as he march'd along,
	By your espials were discovered
	Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led,
	Which join'd with him and made their march for Bourdeaux.

YORK	A plague upon that villain Somerset,
	That thus delays my promised supply
	Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege!
	Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid,
	And I am lowted by a traitor villain
	And cannot help the noble chevalier:
	God comfort him in this necessity!
	If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

	[Enter Sir William LUCY]

LUCY	Thou princely leader of our English strength,
	Never so needful on the earth of France,
	Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,
	Who now is girdled with a waist of iron
	And hemm'd about with grim destruction:
	To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York!
	Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour.

YORK	O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart
	Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place!
	So should we save a valiant gentleman
	By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
	Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep,
	That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.

LUCY	O, send some succor to the distress'd lord!

YORK	He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word;
	We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get;
	All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.

LUCY	Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul;
	And on his son young John, who two hours since
	I met in travel toward his warlike father!
	This seven years did not Talbot see his son;
	And now they meet where both their lives are done.

YORK	Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have
	To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
	Away! vexation almost stops my breath,
	That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.
	Lucy, farewell; no more my fortune can,
	But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.
	Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away,
	'Long all of Somerset and his delay.

	[Exit, with his soldiers]

LUCY	Thus, while the vulture of sedition
	Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
	Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
	The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror,
	That ever living man of memory,
	Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross,
	Lives, honours, lands and all hurry to loss.

	[Exit]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE IV	Other plains in Gascony.


	[Enter SOMERSET, with his army; a Captain of
	TALBOT's with him]

SOMERSET	It is too late; I cannot send them now:
	This expedition was by York and Talbot
	Too rashly plotted: all our general force
	Might with a sally of the very town
	Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot
	Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour
	By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:
	York set him on to fight and die in shame,
	That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.

Captain	Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me
	Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid.

	[Enter Sir William LUCY]

SOMERSET	How now, Sir William! whither were you sent?

LUCY	Whither, my lord? from bought and sold Lord Talbot;
	Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,
	Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
	To beat assailing death from his weak legions:
	And whiles the honourable captain there
	Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,
	And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue,
	You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour,
	Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
	Let not your private discord keep away
	The levied succors that should lend him aid,
	While he, renowned noble gentleman,
	Yields up his life unto a world of odds:
	Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,
	Alencon, Reignier, compass him about,
	And Talbot perisheth by your default.

SOMERSET	York set him on; York should have sent him aid.

LUCY	And York as fast upon your grace exclaims;
	Swearing that you withhold his levied host,
	Collected for this expedition.

SOMERSET	York lies; he might have sent and had the horse;
	I owe him little duty, and less love;
	And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.

LUCY	The fraud of England, not the force of France,
	Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot:
	Never to England shall he bear his life;
	But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife.

SOMERSET	Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight:
	Within six hours they will be at his aid.

LUCY	Too late comes rescue: he is ta'en or slain;
	For fly he could not, if he would have fled;
	And fly would Talbot never, though he might.

SOMERSET	If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu!

LUCY	His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE V	The English camp near Bourdeaux.


	[Enter TALBOT and JOHN his son]

TALBOT	O young John Talbot! I did send for thee
	To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
	That Talbot's name might be in thee revived
	When sapless age and weak unable limbs
	Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
	But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!
	Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
	A terrible and unavoided danger:
	Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;
	And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
	By sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone.

JOHN TALBOT	Is my name Talbot? and am I your son?
	And shall I fly? O if you love my mother,
	Dishonour not her honourable name,
	To make a bastard and a slave of me!
	The world will say, he is not Talbot's blood,
	That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.

TALBOT	Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.

JOHN TALBOT	He that flies so will ne'er return again.

TALBOT	If we both stay, we both are sure to die.

JOHN TALBOT	Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly:
	Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
	My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
	Upon my death the French can little boast;
	In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
	Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
	But mine it will, that no exploit have done:
	You fled for vantage, everyone will swear;
	But, if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
	There is no hope that ever I will stay,
	If the first hour I shrink and run away.
	Here on my knee I beg mortality,
	Rather than life preserved with infamy.

TALBOT	Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?

JOHN TALBOT	Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.

TALBOT	Upon my blessing, I command thee go.

JOHN TALBOT	To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.

TALBOT	Part of thy father may be saved in thee.

JOHN TALBOT	No part of him but will be shame in me.

TALBOT	Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.

JOHN TALBOT	Yes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it?

TALBOT	Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.

JOHN TALBOT	You cannot witness for me, being slain.
	If death be so apparent, then both fly.

TALBOT	And leave my followers here to fight and die?
	My age was never tainted with such shame.

JOHN TALBOT	And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
	No more can I be sever'd from your side,
	Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
	Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
	For live I will not, if my father die.

TALBOT	Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,
	Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
	Come, side by side together live and die.
	And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VI	A field of battle.


	[Alarum: excursions, wherein JOHN TALBOT is
	hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him]

TALBOT	Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers, fight.
	The regent hath with Talbot broke his word
	And left us to the rage of France his sword.
	Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy breath;
	I gave thee life and rescued thee from death.

JOHN TALBOT	O, twice my father, twice am I thy son!
	The life thou gavest me first was lost and done,
	Till with thy warlike sword, despite of late,
	To my determined time thou gavest new date.

TALBOT	When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire,
	It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
	Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
	Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
	Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy,
	And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.
	The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood
	From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
	Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
	And interchanging blows I quickly shed
	Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace
	Bespoke him thus; 'Contaminated, base
	And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
	Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine
	Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:'
	Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy,
	Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care,
	Art thou not weary, John? how dost thou fare?
	Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
	Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
	Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead:
	The help of one stands me in little stead.
	O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
	To hazard all our lives in one small boat!
	If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
	To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
	By me they nothing gain an if I stay;
	'Tis but the shortening of my life one day:
	In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
	My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame:
	All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
	All these are saved if thou wilt fly away.

JOHN TALBOT	The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart;
	These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
	On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
	To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,
	Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
	The coward horse that bears me fail and die!
	And like me to the peasant boys of France,
	To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance!
	Surely, by all the glory you have won,
	An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:
	Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
	If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

TALBOT	Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,
	Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:
	If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
	And, commendable proved, let's die in pride.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT IV



SCENE VII	Another part of the field.


	[Alarum: excursions. Enter TALBOT led by a Servant]

TALBOT	Where is my other life? mine own is gone;
	O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?
	Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,
	Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:
	When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
	His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
	And, like a hungry lion, did commence
	Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience;
	But when my angry guardant stood alone,
	Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none,
	Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart
	Suddenly made him from my side to start
	Into the clustering battle of the French;
	And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
	His over-mounting spirit, and there died,
	My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Servant	O, my dear lord, lo, where your son is borne!

	[Enter Soldiers, with the body of JOHN TALBOT]

TALBOT	Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,
	Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
	Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
	Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
	In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.
	O, thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd death,
	Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
	Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no;
	Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.
	Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say,
	Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
	Come, come and lay him in his father's arms:
	My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
	Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
	Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.

	[Dies]

	[Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD OF
	ORLEANS, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and forces]

CHARLES	Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
	We should have found a bloody day of this.

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood,
	Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said:
	'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:'
	But, with a proud majestical high scorn,
	He answer'd thus: 'Young Talbot was not born
	To be the pillage of a giglot wench:'
	So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
	He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.

BURGUNDY	Doubtless he would have made a noble knight;
	See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms
	Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!

BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder
	Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.

CHARLES	O, no, forbear! for that which we have fled
	During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

	[Enter Sir William LUCY, attended; Herald of the
	French preceding]

LUCY	Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,
	To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.

CHARLES	On what submissive message art thou sent?

LUCY	Submission, Dauphin! 'tis a mere French word;
	We English warriors wot not what it means.
	I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en
	And to survey the bodies of the dead.

CHARLES	For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is.
	But tell me whom thou seek'st.

LUCY	But where's the great Alcides of the field,
	Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
	Created, for his rare success in arms,
	Great Earl of Washford, Waterford and Valence;
	Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
	Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,
	Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,
	The thrice-victorious Lord of Falconbridge;
	Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
	Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece;
	Great marshal to Henry the Sixth
	Of all his wars within the realm of France?

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Here is a silly stately style indeed!
	The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
	Writes not so tedious a style as this.
	Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles
	Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.

LUCY	Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen's only scourge,
	Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
	O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd,
	That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
	O, that I could but call these dead to life!
	It were enough to fright the realm of France:
	Were but his picture left amongst you here,
	It would amaze the proudest of you all.
	Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
	And give them burial as beseems their worth.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
	He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
	For God's sake let him have 'em; to keep them here,
	They would but stink, and putrefy the air.

CHARLES	Go, take their bodies hence.

LUCY	I'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be rear'd
	A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.

CHARLES	So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt.
	And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:
	All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE I	London. The palace.


	[Sennet. Enter KING HENRY VI, GLOUCESTER, and EXETER]

KING HENRY VI	Have you perused the letters from the pope,
	The emperor and the Earl of Armagnac?

GLOUCESTER	I have, my lord: and their intent is this:
	They humbly sue unto your excellence
	To have a godly peace concluded of
	Between the realms of England and of France.

KING HENRY VI	How doth your grace affect their motion?

GLOUCESTER	Well, my good lord; and as the only means
	To stop effusion of our Christian blood
	And 'stablish quietness on every side.

KING HENRY VI	Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought
	It was both impious and unnatural
	That such immanity and bloody strife
	Should reign among professors of one faith.

GLOUCESTER	Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect
	And surer bind this knot of amity,
	The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,
	A man of great authority in France,
	Proffers his only daughter to your grace
	In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.

KING HENRY VI	Marriage, uncle! alas, my years are young!
	And fitter is my study and my books
	Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
	Yet call the ambassador; and, as you please,
	So let them have their answers every one:
	I shall be well content with any choice
	Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.

	[Enter CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER in Cardinal's habit,
	a Legate and two Ambassadors]

EXETER	What! is my Lord of Winchester install'd,
	And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
	Then I perceive that will be verified
	Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,
	'If once he come to be a cardinal,
	He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.'

KING HENRY VI	My lords ambassadors, your several suits
	Have been consider'd and debated on.
	And therefore are we certainly resolved
	To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
	Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean
	Shall be transported presently to France.

GLOUCESTER	And for the proffer of my lord your master,
	I have inform'd his highness so at large
	As liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
	Her beauty and the value of her dower,
	He doth intend she shall be England's queen.

KING HENRY VI	In argument and proof of which contract,
	Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.
	And so, my lord protector, see them guarded
	And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd
	Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

	[Exeunt all but CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER and Legate]

CARDINAL
OF WINCHESTER	Stay, my lord legate: you shall first receive
	The sum of money which I promised
	Should be deliver'd to his holiness
	For clothing me in these grave ornaments.

Legate	I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.

CARDINAL
OF WINCHESTER	[Aside]  Now Winchester will not submit, I trow,
	Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
	Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive
	That, neither in birth or for authority,
	The bishop will be overborne by thee:
	I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
	Or sack this country with a mutiny.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE II	France. Plains in Anjou.


	[Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENCON, BASTARD OF
	ORLEANS, REIGNIER, JOAN LA PUCELLE, and forces]

CHARLES	These news, my lord, may cheer our drooping spirits:
	'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt
	And turn again unto the warlike French.

ALENCON	Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France,
	And keep not back your powers in dalliance.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
	Else, ruin combat with their palaces!

	[Enter Scout]

Scout	Success unto our valiant general,
	And happiness to his accomplices!

CHARLES	What tidings send our scouts? I prithee, speak.

Scout	The English army, that divided was
	Into two parties, is now conjoined in one,
	And means to give you battle presently.

CHARLES	Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;
	But we will presently provide for them.

BURGUNDY	I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there:
	Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Of all base passions, fear is most accursed.
	Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine,
	Let Henry fret and all the world repine.

CHARLES	Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate!

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE III	Before Angiers.


	[Alarum. Excursions. Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE]

JOAN LA PUCELLE	The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly.
	Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;
	And ye choice spirits that admonish me
	And give me signs of future accidents.

	[Thunder]

	You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
	Under the lordly monarch of the north,
	Appear and aid me in this enterprise.

	[Enter Fiends]

	This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
	Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
	Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
	Out of the powerful regions under earth,
	Help me this once, that France may get the field.

	[They walk, and speak not]

	O, hold me not with silence over-long!
	Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
	I'll lop a member off and give it you
	In earnest of further benefit,
	So you do condescend to help me now.

	[They hang their heads]

	No hope to have redress? My body shall
	Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.

	[They shake their heads]

	Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice
	Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
	Then take my soul, my body, soul and all,
	Before that England give the French the foil.

	[They depart]

	See, they forsake me! Now the time is come
	That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest
	And let her head fall into England's lap.
	My ancient incantations are too weak,
	And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
	Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.

	[Exit]

	[Excursions. Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE fighting hand
	to hand with YORK	JOAN LA PUCELLE is taken. The
	French fly]

YORK	Damsel of France, I think I have you fast:
	Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms
	And try if they can gain your liberty.
	A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace!
	See, how the ugly wench doth bend her brows,
	As if with Circe she would change my shape!

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be.

YORK	O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man;
	No shape but his can please your dainty eye.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee!
	And may ye both be suddenly surprised
	By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!

YORK	Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue!

JOAN LA PUCELLE	I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile.

YORK	Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.

	[Exeunt]

	[Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK with MARGARET in his hand]

SUFFOLK	Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

	[Gazes on her]

	O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly!
	For I will touch thee but with reverent hands;
	I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,
	And lay them gently on thy tender side.
	Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.

MARGARET	Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,
	The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.

SUFFOLK	An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.
	Be not offended, nature's miracle,
	Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:
	So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
	Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings.
	Yet, if this servile usage once offend.
	Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend.

	[She is going]

	O, stay! I have no power to let her pass;
	My hand would free her, but my heart says no
	As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
	Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
	So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
	Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
	I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind.
	Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself;
	Hast not a tongue? is she not here?
	Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
	Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such,
	Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.

MARGARET	Say, Earl of Suffolk--if thy name be so--
	What ransom must I pay before I pass?
	For I perceive I am thy prisoner.

SUFFOLK	How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,
	Before thou make a trial of her love?

MARGARET	Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay?

SUFFOLK	She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;
	She is a woman, therefore to be won.

MARGARET	Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, or no.

SUFFOLK	Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife;
	Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?

MARGARET	I were best to leave him, for he will not hear.

SUFFOLK	There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card.

MARGARET	He talks at random; sure, the man is mad.

SUFFOLK	And yet a dispensation may be had.

MARGARET	And yet I would that you would answer me.

SUFFOLK	I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom?
	Why, for my king: tush, that's a wooden thing!

MARGARET	He talks of wood: it is some carpenter.

SUFFOLK	Yet so my fancy may be satisfied,
	And peace established between these realms
	But there remains a scruple in that too;
	For though her father be the King of Naples,
	Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,
	And our nobility will scorn the match.

MARGARET	Hear ye, captain, are you not at leisure?

SUFFOLK	It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much.
	Henry is youthful and will quickly yield.
	Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

MARGARET	What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight,
	And will not any way dishonour me.

SUFFOLK	Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.

MARGARET	Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French;
	And then I need not crave his courtesy.

SUFFOLK	Sweet madam, give me a hearing in a cause--

MARGARET	Tush, women have been captivate ere now.

SUFFOLK	Lady, wherefore talk you so?

MARGARET	I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo.

SUFFOLK	Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose
	Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?

MARGARET	To be a queen in bondage is more vile
	Than is a slave in base servility;
	For princes should be free.

SUFFOLK	And so shall you,
	If happy England's royal king be free.

MARGARET	Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?

SUFFOLK	I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen,
	To put a golden sceptre in thy hand
	And set a precious crown upon thy head,
	If thou wilt condescend to be my--

MARGARET	What?

SUFFOLK	His love.

MARGARET	I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.

SUFFOLK	No, gentle madam; I unworthy am
	To woo so fair a dame to be his wife,
	And have no portion in the choice myself.
	How say you, madam, are ye so content?

MARGARET	An if my father please, I am content.

SUFFOLK	Then call our captains and our colours forth.
	And, madam, at your father's castle walls
	We'll crave a parley, to confer with him.

	[A parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER on the walls]

	See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner!

REIGNIER	To whom?

SUFFOLK	       To me.

REIGNIER	                  Suffolk, what remedy?
	I am a soldier, and unapt to weep,
	Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

SUFFOLK	Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord:
	Consent, and for thy honour give consent,
	Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king;
	Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;
	And this her easy-held imprisonment
	Hath gained thy daughter princely liberty.

REIGNIER	Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?

SUFFOLK	Fair Margaret knows
	That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.

REIGNIER	Upon thy princely warrant, I descend
	To give thee answer of thy just demand.

	[Exit from the walls]

SUFFOLK	And here I will expect thy coming.

	[Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER, below]

REIGNIER	Welcome, brave earl, into our territories:
	Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.

SUFFOLK	Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child,
	Fit to be made companion with a king:
	What answer makes your grace unto my suit?

REIGNIER	Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth
	To be the princely bride of such a lord;
	Upon condition I may quietly
	Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou,
	Free from oppression or the stroke of war,
	My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.

SUFFOLK	That is her ransom; I deliver her;
	And those two counties I will undertake
	Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.

REIGNIER	And I again, in Henry's royal name,
	As deputy unto that gracious king,
	Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.

SUFFOLK	Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
	Because this is in traffic of a king.

	[Aside]

	And yet, methinks, I could be well content
	To be mine own attorney in this case.
	I'll over then to England with this news,
	And make this marriage to be solemnized.
	So farewell, Reignier: set this diamond safe
	In golden palaces, as it becomes.

REIGNIER	I do embrace thee, as I would embrace
	The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.

MARGARET	Farewell, my lord: good wishes, praise and prayers
	Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.

	[Going]

SUFFOLK	Farewell, sweet madam: but hark you, Margaret;
	No princely commendations to my king?

MARGARET	Such commendations as becomes a maid,
	A virgin and his servant, say to him.

SUFFOLK	Words sweetly placed and modestly directed.
	But madam, I must trouble you again;
	No loving token to his majesty?

MARGARET	Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted heart,
	Never yet taint with love, I send the king.

SUFFOLK	And this withal.

	[Kisses her]

MARGARET	That for thyself: I will not so presume
	To send such peevish tokens to a king.

	[Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET]

SUFFOLK	O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay;
	Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth;
	There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.
	Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise:
	Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,
	And natural graces that extinguish art;
	Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
	That, when thou comest to kneel at Henry's feet,
	Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.

	[Exit]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE IV	Camp of the YORK in Anjou.


	[Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others]

YORK	Bring forth that sorceress condemn'd to burn.

	[Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd]

Shepherd	Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright!
	Have I sought every country far and near,
	And, now it is my chance to find thee out,
	Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?
	Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!
	I am descended of a gentler blood:
	Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.

Shepherd	Out, out! My lords, an please you, 'tis not so;
	I did beget her, all the parish knows:
	Her mother liveth yet, can testify
	She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.

WARWICK	Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?

YORK	This argues what her kind of life hath been,
	Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.

Shepherd	Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle!
	God knows thou art a collop of my flesh;
	And for thy sake have I shed many a tear:
	Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man,
	Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

Shepherd	'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest
	The morn that I was wedded to her mother.
	Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.
	Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time
	Of thy nativity! I would the milk
	Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast,
	Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake!
	Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
	I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee!
	Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?
	O, burn her, burn her! hanging is too good.

	[Exit]

YORK	Take her away; for she hath lived too long,
	To fill the world with vicious qualities.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd:
	Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
	But issued from the progeny of kings;
	Virtuous and holy; chosen from above,
	By inspiration of celestial grace,
	To work exceeding miracles on earth.
	I never had to do with wicked spirits:
	But you, that are polluted with your lusts,
	Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
	Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,
	Because you want the grace that others have,
	You judge it straight a thing impossible
	To compass wonders but by help of devils.
	No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been
	A virgin from her tender infancy,
	Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
	Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effused,
	Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.

YORK	Ay, ay: away with her to execution!

WARWICK	And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,
	Spare for no faggots, let there be enow:
	Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
	That so her torture may be shortened.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?
	Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity,
	That warranteth by law to be thy privilege.
	I am with child, ye bloody homicides:
	Murder not then the fruit within my womb,
	Although ye hale me to a violent death.

YORK	Now heaven forfend! the holy maid with child!

WARWICK	The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought:
	Is all your strict preciseness come to this?

YORK	She and the Dauphin have been juggling:
	I did imagine what would be her refuge.

WARWICK	Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live;
	Especially since Charles must father it.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	You are deceived; my child is none of his:
	It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love.

YORK	Alencon! that notorious Machiavel!
	It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	O, give me leave, I have deluded you:
	'Twas neither Charles nor yet the duke I named,
	But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd.

WARWICK	A married man! that's most intolerable.

YORK	Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well,
	There were so many, whom she may accuse.

WARWICK	It's sign she hath been liberal and free.

YORK	And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.
	Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee:
	Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

JOAN LA PUCELLE	Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my curse:
	May never glorious sun reflex his beams
	Upon the country where you make abode;
	But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
	Environ you, till mischief and despair
	Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!

	[Exit, guarded]

YORK	Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes,
	Thou foul accursed minister of hell!

	[Enter CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER, attended]

CARDINAL
OF WINCHESTER	Lord regent, I do greet your excellence
	With letters of commission from the king.
	For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,
	Moved with remorse of these outrageous broils,
	Have earnestly implored a general peace
	Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French;
	And here at hand the Dauphin and his train
	Approacheth, to confer about some matter.

YORK	 Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?
	After the slaughter of so many peers,
	So many captains, gentlemen and soldiers,
	That in this quarrel have been overthrown
	And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
	Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?
	Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
	By treason, falsehood and by treachery,
	Our great progenitors had conquered?
	O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief
	The utter loss of all the realm of France.

WARWICK	Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace,
	It shall be with such strict and severe covenants
	As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

	[Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BASTARD OF ORLEANS,
	REIGNIER, and others]

CHARLES	Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed
	That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France,
	We come to be informed by yourselves
	What the conditions of that league must be.

YORK	Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes
	The hollow passage of my poison'd voice,
	By sight of these our baleful enemies.

CARDINAL
OF WINCHESTER	Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus:
	That, in regard King Henry gives consent,
	Of mere compassion and of lenity,
	To ease your country of distressful war,
	And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,
	You shall become true liegemen to his crown:
	And Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
	To pay him tribute, submit thyself,
	Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him,
	And still enjoy thy regal dignity.

ALENCON	Must he be then as shadow of himself?
	Adorn his temples with a coronet,
	And yet, in substance and authority,
	Retain but privilege of a private man?
	This proffer is absurd and reasonless.

CHARLES	'Tis known already that I am possess'd
	With more than half the Gallian territories,
	And therein reverenced for their lawful king:
	Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd,
	Detract so much from that prerogative,
	As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?
	No, lord ambassador, I'll rather keep
	That which I have than, coveting for more,
	Be cast from possibility of all.

YORK	Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret means
	Used intercession to obtain a league,
	And, now the matter grows to compromise,
	Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison?
	Either accept the title thou usurp'st,
	Of benefit proceeding from our king
	And not of any challenge of desert,
	Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.

REIGNIER	My lord, you do not well in obstinacy
	To cavil in the course of this contract:
	If once it be neglected, ten to one
	We shall not find like opportunity.

ALENCON	To say the truth, it is your policy
	To save your subjects from such massacre
	And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen
	By our proceeding in hostility;
	And therefore take this compact of a truce,
	Although you break it when your pleasure serves.

WARWICK	How say'st thou, Charles? shall our condition stand?

CHARLES	It shall;
	Only reserved, you claim no interest
	In any of our towns of garrison.

YORK	Then swear allegiance to his majesty,
	As thou art knight, never to disobey
	Nor be rebellious to the crown of England,
	Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.
	So, now dismiss your army when ye please:
	Hang up your ensign, let your drums be still,
	For here we entertain a solemn peace.

	[Exeunt]




	1 KING HENRY VI


ACT V



SCENE V	London. The palace.


	[Enter SUFFOLK in conference with KING HENRY VI,
	GLOUCESTER and EXETER]

KING HENRY VI	Your wondrous rare description, noble earl,
	Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me:
	Her virtues graced with external gifts
	Do breed love's settled passions in my heart:
	And like as rigor of tempestuous gusts
	Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,
	So am I driven by breath of her renown
	Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive
	Where I may have fruition of her love.

SUFFOLK	Tush, my good lord, this superficial tale
	Is but a preface of her worthy praise;
	The chief perfections of that lovely dame
	Had I sufficient skill to utter them,
	Would make a volume of enticing lines,
	Able to ravish any dull conceit:
	And, which is more, she is not so divine,
	So full-replete with choice of all delights,
	But with as humble lowliness of mind
	She is content to be at your command;
	Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents,
	To love and honour Henry as her lord.

KING HENRY VI	And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume.
	Therefore, my lord protector, give consent
	That Margaret may be England's royal queen.

GLOUCESTER	So should I give consent to flatter sin.
	You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd
	Unto another lady of esteem:
	How shall we then dispense with that contract,
	And not deface your honour with reproach?

SUFFOLK	As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths;
	Or one that, at a triumph having vow'd
	To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists
	By reason of his adversary's odds:
	A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds,
	And therefore may be broke without offence.

GLOUCESTER	Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than that?
	Her father is no better than an earl,
	Although in glorious titles he excel.

SUFFOLK	Yes, lord, her father is a king,
	The King of Naples and Jerusalem;
	And of such great authority in France
	As his alliance will confirm our peace
	And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.

GLOUCESTER	And so the Earl of Armagnac may do,
	Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.

EXETER	Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower,
	Where Reignier sooner will receive than give.

SUFFOLK	A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your king,
	That he should be so abject, base and poor,
	To choose for wealth and not for perfect love.
	Henry is able to enrich his queen
	And not seek a queen to make him rich:
	So worthless peasants bargain for their wives,
	As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse.
	Marriage is a matter of more worth
	Than to be dealt in by attorneyship;
	Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects,
	Must be companion of his nuptial bed:
	And therefore, lords, since he affects her most,
	It most of all these reasons bindeth us,
	In our opinions she should be preferr'd.
	For what is wedlock forced but a hell,
	An age of discord and continual strife?
	Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss,
	And is a pattern of celestial peace.
	Whom should we match with Henry, being a king,
	But Margaret, that is daughter to a king?
	Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,
	Approves her fit for none but for a king:
	Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit,
	More than in women commonly is seen,
	Will answer our hope in issue of a king;
	For Henry, son unto a conqueror,
	Is likely to beget more conquerors,
	If with a lady of so high resolve
	As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love.
	Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me
	That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she.

KING HENRY VI	Whether it be through force of your report,
	My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that
	My tender youth was never yet attaint
	With any passion of inflaming love,
	I cannot tell; but this I am assured,
	I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,
	Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,
	As I am sick with working of my thoughts.
	Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to France;
	Agree to any covenants, and procure
	That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
	To cross the seas to England and be crown'd
	King Henry's faithful and anointed queen:
	For your expenses and sufficient charge,
	Among the people gather up a tenth.
	Be gone, I say; for, till you do return,
	I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.
	And you, good uncle, banish all offence:
	If you do censure me by what you were,
	Not what you are, I know it will excuse
	This sudden execution of my will.
	And so, conduct me where, from company,
	I may revolve and ruminate my grief.

	[Exit]

GLOUCESTER	Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last.

	[Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EXETER]

SUFFOLK	Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd; and thus he goes,
	As did the youthful Paris once to Greece,
	With hope to find the like event in love,
	But prosper better than the Trojan did.
	Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king;
	But I will rule both her, the king and realm.

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


	DRAMATIS PERSONAE


KING EDWARD
The Fourth	(KING EDWARD IV:)


EDWARD	Prince of Wales, (PRINCE EDWARD:)	|
	afterwards King Edward V.,	|  sons to
			|  the King.
RICHARD	Duke of York, (YORK:)	|


GEORGE	Duke of Clarence, (CLARENCE:)	|
			|
RICHARD	Duke of Gloucester, (GLOUCESTER:)  	|  Brothers to
	afterwards King Richard III.,	|  the King.
	(KING RICHARD III:)		|


	A young son of Clarence. (Boy:)

HENRY	Earl of Richmond, (RICHMOND:)
	afterwards King Henry VII.

CARDINAL BOURCHIER	Archbishop of Canterbury. (CARDINAL:)

THOMAS ROTHERHAM	Archbishop of York. (ARCHBISHOP OF YORK:)

JOHN MORTON	Bishop of Ely. (BISHOP OF ELY:)

DUKE of BUCKINGHAM	(BUCKINGHAM:)

DUKE of NORFOLK	(NORFOLK:)

EARL of SURREY	His son. (SURREY:)

EARL RIVERS	Brother to Elizabeth. (RIVERS:)


MARQUIS OF DORSET	(DORSET:)	|
		|  Sons to Elizabeth.
LORD GREY	(GREY:)	|


EARL of OXFORD	(OXFORD:)

LORD HASTINGS	(HASTINGS:)

LORD STANLEY	(STANLEY:)  Called also EARL of DERBY. (DERBY:)

LORD LOVEL	(LOVEL:)

SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN	(VAUGHAN:)

SIR RICHARD
RATCLIFF	(RATCLIFF:)

SIR WILLIAM
CATESBY	(CATESBY:)

SIR JAMES TYRREL	(TYRREL:)

SIR JAMES BLOUNT	(BLOUNT:)

SIR WALTER HERBERT	(HERBERT:)

SIR ROBERT
BRAKENBURY	Lieutenant of the Tower. (BRAKENBURY:)

CHRISTOPHER
URSWICK	A priest. (CHRISTOPHER:)

	Another Priest. (Priest:)


TRESSEL	|
	|  Gentlemen attending on the Lady Anne.
BERKELEY	|  (Gentleman:)


	Lord Mayor of London. (Lord Mayor:)

	Sheriff of Wiltshire. (Sheriff:)

ELIZABETH	Queen to King Edward IV. (QUEEN ELIZABETH:)

MARGARET	Widow of King Henry VI. (QUEEN MARGARET:)

DUCHESS of YORK	Mother to King Edward IV.

LADY ANNE	Widow of Edward Prince of Wales, son to King Henry VI.;
	afterwards married to Richard.

	A young Daughter of Clarence [MARGARET PLANTAGENET] (Girl:)

	Ghosts of those murdered by Richard III.,
	Lords and other Attendants; a Pursuivant
	Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers
	Soldiers, &c.
	(Ghost of Prince Edward:)
	(Ghost of King Henry VI:)
	(Ghost of CLARENCE:)
	(Ghost of RIVERS:)
	(Ghost of GREY:)
	(Ghost of VAUGHAN:)
	(Ghost of HASTING:)
	(Ghosts of young Princes:)
	(Ghost of LADY ANNE:)
	(Ghost of BUCKINGHAM:)
	(Pursuivant:)
	(Scrivener:)
	(First Citizen:)
	(Second Citizen:)
	(Third Citizen:)
	(First Murderer:)
	(Second Murderer:)
	(Messenger:)
	(Second Messenger:)
	(Third Messenger:)
	(Fourth Messenger:)


SCENE	England.




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE I	London. A street.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, solus]

GLOUCESTER	Now is the winter of our discontent
	Made glorious summer by this sun of York;
	And all the clouds that lour'd upon our house
	In the deep bosom of the ocean buried.
	Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths;
	Our bruised arms hung up for monuments;
	Our stern alarums changed to merry meetings,
	Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.
	Grim-visaged war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front;
	And now, instead of mounting barded steeds
	To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,
	He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber
	To the lascivious pleasing of a lute.
	But I, that am not shaped for sportive tricks,
	Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass;
	I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's majesty
	To strut before a wanton ambling nymph;
	I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion,
	Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
	Deformed, unfinish'd, sent before my time
	Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
	And that so lamely and unfashionable
	That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
	Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,
	Have no delight to pass away the time,
	Unless to spy my shadow in the sun
	And descant on mine own deformity:
	And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover,
	To entertain these fair well-spoken days,
	I am determined to prove a villain
	And hate the idle pleasures of these days.
	Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
	By drunken prophecies, libels and dreams,
	To set my brother Clarence and the king
	In deadly hate the one against the other:
	And if King Edward be as true and just
	As I am subtle, false and treacherous,
	This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up,
	About a prophecy, which says that 'G'
	Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be.
	Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here
	Clarence comes.

	[Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY]

	Brother, good day; what means this armed guard
	That waits upon your grace?

CLARENCE	His majesty
	Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed
	This conduct to convey me to the Tower.

GLOUCESTER	Upon what cause?

CLARENCE	                  Because my name is George.

GLOUCESTER	Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours;
	He should, for that, commit your godfathers:
	O, belike his majesty hath some intent
	That you shall be new-christen'd in the Tower.
	But what's the matter, Clarence?  may I know?

CLARENCE	Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest
	As yet I do not: but, as I can learn,
	He hearkens after prophecies and dreams;
	And from the cross-row plucks the letter G.
	And says a wizard told him that by G
	His issue disinherited should be;
	And, for my name of George begins with G,
	It follows in his thought that I am he.
	These, as I learn, and such like toys as these
	Have moved his highness to commit me now.

GLOUCESTER	Why, this it is, when men are ruled by women:
	'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower:
	My Lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 'tis she
	That tempers him to this extremity.
	Was it not she and that good man of worship,
	Anthony Woodville, her brother there,
	That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower,
	From whence this present day he is deliver'd?
	We are not safe, Clarence; we are not safe.

CLARENCE	By heaven, I think there's no man is secure
	But the queen's kindred and night-walking heralds
	That trudge betwixt the king and Mistress Shore.
	Heard ye not what an humble suppliant
	Lord hastings was to her for his delivery?

GLOUCESTER	Humbly complaining to her deity
	Got my lord chamberlain his liberty.
	I'll tell you what; I think it is our way,
	If we will keep in favour with the king,
	To be her men and wear her livery:
	The jealous o'erworn widow and herself,
	Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen.
	Are mighty gossips in this monarchy.

BRAKENBURY	I beseech your graces both to pardon me;
	His majesty hath straitly given in charge
	That no man shall have private conference,
	Of what degree soever, with his brother.

GLOUCESTER	Even so; an't please your worship, Brakenbury,
	You may partake of any thing we say:
	We speak no treason, man: we say the king
	Is wise and virtuous, and his noble queen
	Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous;
	We say that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot,
	A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue;
	And that the queen's kindred are made gentle-folks:
	How say you sir? Can you deny all this?

BRAKENBURY	With this, my lord, myself have nought to do.

GLOUCESTER	Naught to do with mistress Shore! I tell thee, fellow,
	He that doth naught with her, excepting one,
	Were best he do it secretly, alone.

BRAKENBURY	What one, my lord?

GLOUCESTER	Her husband, knave: wouldst thou betray me?

BRAKENBURY	I beseech your grace to pardon me, and withal
	Forbear your conference with the noble duke.

CLARENCE	We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey.

GLOUCESTER	We are the queen's abjects, and must obey.
	Brother, farewell: I will unto the king;
	And whatsoever you will employ me in,
	Were it to call King Edward's widow sister,
	I will perform it to enfranchise you.
	Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood
	Touches me deeper than you can imagine.

CLARENCE	I know it pleaseth neither of us well.

GLOUCESTER	Well, your imprisonment shall not be long;
	Meantime, have patience.

CLARENCE	I must perforce. Farewell.

	[Exeunt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and Guard]

GLOUCESTER	Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return.
	Simple, plain Clarence! I do love thee so,
	That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven,
	If heaven will take the present at our hands.
	But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings?

	[Enter HASTINGS]

HASTINGS	Good time of day unto my gracious lord!

GLOUCESTER	As much unto my good lord chamberlain!
	Well are you welcome to the open air.
	How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment?

HASTINGS	With patience, noble lord, as prisoners must:
	But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks
	That were the cause of my imprisonment.

GLOUCESTER	No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;
	For they that were your enemies are his,
	And have prevail'd as much on him as you.

HASTINGS	More pity that the eagle should be mew'd,
	While kites and buzzards prey at liberty.

GLOUCESTER	What news abroad?

HASTINGS	No news so bad abroad as this at home;
	The King is sickly, weak and melancholy,
	And his physicians fear him mightily.

GLOUCESTER	Now, by Saint Paul, this news is bad indeed.
	O, he hath kept an evil diet long,
	And overmuch consumed his royal person:
	'Tis very grievous to be thought upon.
	What, is he in his bed?

HASTINGS	He is.

GLOUCESTER	Go you before, and I will follow you.

	[Exit HASTINGS]

	He cannot live, I hope; and must not die
	Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven.
	I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence,
	With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments;
	And, if I fall not in my deep intent,
	Clarence hath not another day to live:
	Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy,
	And leave the world for me to bustle in!
	For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest daughter.
	What though I kill'd her husband and her father?
	The readiest way to make the wench amends
	Is to become her husband and her father:
	The which will I; not all so much for love
	As for another secret close intent,
	By marrying her which I must reach unto.
	But yet I run before my horse to market:
	Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and reigns:
	When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE II	The same. Another street.

	[Enter the corpse of KING HENRY the Sixth, Gentlemen
	with halberds to guard it; LADY ANNE being the mourner]

LADY ANNE	Set down, set down your honourable load,
	If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,
	Whilst I awhile obsequiously lament
	The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.
	Poor key-cold figure of a holy king!
	Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster!
	Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood!
	Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost,
	To hear the lamentations of Poor Anne,
	Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son,
	Stabb'd by the selfsame hand that made these wounds!
	Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life,
	I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes.
	Cursed be the hand that made these fatal holes!
	Cursed be the heart that had the heart to do it!
	Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence!
	More direful hap betide that hated wretch,
	That makes us wretched by the death of thee,
	Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads,
	Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives!
	If ever he have child, abortive be it,
	Prodigious, and untimely brought to light,
	Whose ugly and unnatural aspect
	May fright the hopeful mother at the view;
	And that be heir to his unhappiness!
	If ever he have wife, let her he made
	A miserable by the death of him
	As I am made by my poor lord and thee!
	Come, now towards Chertsey with your holy load,
	Taken from Paul's to be interred there;
	And still, as you are weary of the weight,
	Rest you, whiles I lament King Henry's corse.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it down.

LADY ANNE	What black magician conjures up this fiend,
	To stop devoted charitable deeds?

GLOUCESTER	Villains, set down the corse; or, by Saint Paul,
	I'll make a corse of him that disobeys.

Gentleman	My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass.

GLOUCESTER	Unmanner'd dog! stand thou, when I command:
	Advance thy halbert higher than my breast,
	Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot,
	And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness.

LADY ANNE	What, do you tremble? are you all afraid?
	Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal,
	And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.
	Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell!
	Thou hadst but power over his mortal body,
	His soul thou canst not have; therefore be gone.

GLOUCESTER	Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst.

LADY ANNE	Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, and trouble us not;
	For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell,
	Fill'd it with cursing cries and deep exclaims.
	If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds,
	Behold this pattern of thy butcheries.
	O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds
	Open their congeal'd mouths and bleed afresh!
	Blush, Blush, thou lump of foul deformity;
	For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood
	From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells;
	Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural,
	Provokes this deluge most unnatural.
	O God, which this blood madest, revenge his death!
	O earth, which this blood drink'st revenge his death!
	Either heaven with lightning strike the
	murderer dead,
	Or earth, gape open wide and eat him quick,
	As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood
	Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered!

GLOUCESTER	Lady, you know no rules of charity,
	Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses.

LADY ANNE	Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man:
	No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity.

GLOUCESTER	But I know none, and therefore am no beast.

LADY ANNE	O wonderful, when devils tell the truth!

GLOUCESTER	More wonderful, when angels are so angry.
	Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman,
	Of these supposed-evils, to give me leave,
	By circumstance, but to acquit myself.

LADY ANNE	Vouchsafe, defused infection of a man,
	For these known evils, but to give me leave,
	By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self.

GLOUCESTER	Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have
	Some patient leisure to excuse myself.

LADY ANNE	Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make
	No excuse current, but to hang thyself.

GLOUCESTER	By such despair, I should accuse myself.

LADY ANNE	And, by despairing, shouldst thou stand excused;
	For doing worthy vengeance on thyself,
	Which didst unworthy slaughter upon others.

GLOUCESTER	Say that I slew them not?

LADY ANNE	Why, then they are not dead:
	But dead they are, and devilish slave, by thee.

GLOUCESTER	I did not kill your husband.

LADY ANNE	Why, then he is alive.

GLOUCESTER	Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand.

LADY ANNE	In thy foul throat thou liest: Queen Margaret saw
	Thy murderous falchion smoking in his blood;
	The which thou once didst bend against her breast,
	But that thy brothers beat aside the point.

GLOUCESTER	I was provoked by her slanderous tongue,
	which laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders.

LADY ANNE	Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind.
	Which never dreamt on aught but butcheries:
	Didst thou not kill this king?

GLOUCESTER	I grant ye.

LADY ANNE	Dost grant me, hedgehog? then, God grant me too
	Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed!
	O, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous!

GLOUCESTER	The fitter for the King of heaven, that hath him.

LADY ANNE	He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come.

GLOUCESTER	Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither;
	For he was fitter for that place than earth.

LADY ANNE	And thou unfit for any place but hell.

GLOUCESTER	Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it.

LADY ANNE	Some dungeon.

GLOUCESTER	                             Your bed-chamber.

LADY ANNE	I'll rest betide the chamber where thou liest!

GLOUCESTER	So will it, madam till I lie with you.

LADY ANNE	I hope so.

GLOUCESTER	I know so. But, gentle Lady Anne,
	To leave this keen encounter of our wits,
	And fall somewhat into a slower method,
	Is not the causer of the timeless deaths
	Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward,
	As blameful as the executioner?

LADY ANNE	Thou art the cause, and most accursed effect.

GLOUCESTER	Your beauty was the cause of that effect;
	Your beauty: which did haunt me in my sleep
	To undertake the death of all the world,
	So I might live one hour in your sweet bosom.

LADY ANNE	If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide,
	These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks.

GLOUCESTER	These eyes could never endure sweet beauty's wreck;
	You should not blemish it, if I stood by:
	As all the world is cheered by the sun,
	So I by that; it is my day, my life.

LADY ANNE	Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life!

GLOUCESTER	Curse not thyself, fair creature thou art both.

LADY ANNE	I would I were, to be revenged on thee.

GLOUCESTER	It is a quarrel most unnatural,
	To be revenged on him that loveth you.

LADY ANNE	It is a quarrel just and reasonable,
	To be revenged on him that slew my husband.

GLOUCESTER	He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband,
	Did it to help thee to a better husband.

LADY ANNE	His better doth not breathe upon the earth.

GLOUCESTER	He lives that loves thee better than he could.

LADY ANNE	Name him.

GLOUCESTER	        Plantagenet.

LADY ANNE	Why, that was he.

GLOUCESTER	The selfsame name, but one of better nature.

LADY ANNE	Where is he?

GLOUCESTER	                 Here.

	[She spitteth at him]

	Why dost thou spit at me?

LADY ANNE	Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake!

GLOUCESTER	Never came poison from so sweet a place.

LADY ANNE	Never hung poison on a fouler toad.
	Out of my sight! thou dost infect my eyes.

GLOUCESTER	Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine.

LADY ANNE	Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead!

GLOUCESTER	I would they were, that I might die at once;
	For now they kill me with a living death.
	Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears,
	Shamed their aspect with store of childish drops:
	These eyes that never shed remorseful tear,
	No, when my father York and Edward wept,
	To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made
	When black-faced Clifford shook his sword at him;
	Nor when thy warlike father, like a child,
	Told the sad story of my father's death,
	And twenty times made pause to sob and weep,
	That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks
	Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time
	My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear;
	And what these sorrows could not thence exhale,
	Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping.
	I never sued to friend nor enemy;
	My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing word;
	But now thy beauty is proposed my fee,
	My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak.

	[She looks scornfully at him]

	Teach not thy lips such scorn, for they were made
	For kissing, lady, not for such contempt.
	If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive,
	Lo, here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword;
	Which if thou please to hide in this true bosom.
	And let the soul forth that adoreth thee,
	I lay it naked to the deadly stroke,
	And humbly beg the death upon my knee.

	[He lays his breast open: she offers at it with his sword]

	Nay, do not pause; for I did kill King Henry,
	But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me.
	Nay, now dispatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward,
	But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on.

	[Here she lets fall the sword]

	Take up the sword again, or take up me.

LADY ANNE	Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death,
	I will not be the executioner.

GLOUCESTER	Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it.

LADY ANNE	I have already.

GLOUCESTER	                  Tush, that was in thy rage:
	Speak it again, and, even with the word,
	That hand, which, for thy love, did kill thy love,
	Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love;
	To both their deaths thou shalt be accessary.

LADY ANNE	I would I knew thy heart.

GLOUCESTER	'Tis figured in my tongue.

LADY ANNE	I fear me both are false.

GLOUCESTER	Then never man was true.

LADY ANNE	Well, well, put up your sword.

GLOUCESTER	Say, then, my peace is made.

LADY ANNE	That shall you know hereafter.

GLOUCESTER	But shall I live in hope?

LADY ANNE	All men, I hope, live so.

GLOUCESTER	Vouchsafe to wear this ring.

LADY ANNE	To take is not to give.

GLOUCESTER	Look, how this ring encompasseth finger.
	Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart;
	Wear both of them, for both of them are thine.
	And if thy poor devoted suppliant may
	But beg one favour at thy gracious hand,
	Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever.

LADY ANNE	What is it?

GLOUCESTER	That it would please thee leave these sad designs
	To him that hath more cause to be a mourner,
	And presently repair to Crosby Place;
	Where, after I have solemnly interr'd
	At Chertsey monastery this noble king,
	And wet his grave with my repentant tears,
	I will with all expedient duty see you:
	For divers unknown reasons. I beseech you,
	Grant me this boon.

LADY ANNE	With all my heart; and much it joys me too,
	To see you are become so penitent.
	Tressel and Berkeley, go along with me.

GLOUCESTER	Bid me farewell.

LADY ANNE	'Tis more than you deserve;
	But since you teach me how to flatter you,
	Imagine I have said farewell already.

	[Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKELEY]

GLOUCESTER	Sirs, take up the corse.

GENTLEMEN	Towards Chertsey, noble lord?

GLOUCESTER	No, to White-Friars; there attend my coining.

	[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER]

	Was ever woman in this humour woo'd?
	Was ever woman in this humour won?
	I'll have her; but I will not keep her long.
	What! I, that kill'd her husband and his father,
	To take her in her heart's extremest hate,
	With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes,
	The bleeding witness of her hatred by;
	Having God, her conscience, and these bars
	against me,
	And I nothing to back my suit at all,
	But the plain devil and dissembling looks,
	And yet to win her, all the world to nothing!
	Ha!
	Hath she forgot already that brave prince,
	Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months since,
	Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury?
	A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,
	Framed in the prodigality of nature,
	Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,
	The spacious world cannot again afford
	And will she yet debase her eyes on me,
	That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince,
	And made her widow to a woful bed?
	On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety?
	On me, that halt and am unshapen thus?
	My dukedom to a beggarly denier,
	I do mistake my person all this while:
	Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot,
	Myself to be a marvellous proper man.
	I'll be at charges for a looking-glass,
	And entertain some score or two of tailors,
	To study fashions to adorn my body:
	Since I am crept in favour with myself,
	Will maintain it with some little cost.
	But first I'll turn yon fellow in his grave;
	And then return lamenting to my love.
	Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass,
	That I may see my shadow as I pass.

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE III	The palace.


	[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, RIVERS, and GREY]

RIVERS	Have patience, madam: there's no doubt his majesty
	Will soon recover his accustom'd health.

GREY	In that you brook it in, it makes him worse:
	Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good comfort,
	And cheer his grace with quick and merry words.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	If he were dead, what would betide of me?

RIVERS	No other harm but loss of such a lord.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	The loss of such a lord includes all harm.

GREY	The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son,
	To be your comforter when he is gone.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Oh, he is young and his minority
	Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloucester,
	A man that loves not me, nor none of you.

RIVERS	Is it concluded that he shall be protector?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	It is determined, not concluded yet:
	But so it must be, if the king miscarry.

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM and DERBY]

GREY	Here come the lords of Buckingham and Derby.

BUCKINGHAM	Good time of day unto your royal grace!

DERBY	God make your majesty joyful as you have been!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	The Countess Richmond, good my Lord of Derby.
	To your good prayers will scarcely say amen.
	Yet, Derby, notwithstanding she's your wife,
	And loves not me, be you, good lord, assured
	I hate not you for her proud arrogance.

DERBY	I do beseech you, either not believe
	The envious slanders of her false accusers;
	Or, if she be accused in true report,
	Bear with her weakness, which, I think proceeds
	From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice.

RIVERS	Saw you the king to-day, my Lord of Derby?

DERBY	But now the Duke of Buckingham and I
	Are come from visiting his majesty.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	What likelihood of his amendment, lords?

BUCKINGHAM	Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	God grant him health! Did you confer with him?

BUCKINGHAM	Madam, we did: he desires to make atonement
	Betwixt the Duke of Gloucester and your brothers,
	And betwixt them and my lord chamberlain;
	And sent to warn them to his royal presence.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Would all were well! but that will never be
	I fear our happiness is at the highest.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, and DORSET]

GLOUCESTER	They do me wrong, and I will not endure it:
	Who are they that complain unto the king,
	That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not?
	By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly
	That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours.
	Because I cannot flatter and speak fair,
	Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive and cog,
	Duck with French nods and apish courtesy,
	I must be held a rancorous enemy.
	Cannot a plain man live and think no harm,
	But thus his simple truth must be abused
	By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks?

RIVERS	To whom in all this presence speaks your grace?

GLOUCESTER	To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace.
	When have I injured thee? when done thee wrong?
	Or thee? or thee? or any of your faction?
	A plague upon you all! His royal person,--
	Whom God preserve better than you would wish!--
	Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while,
	But you must trouble him with lewd complaints.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Brother of Gloucester, you mistake the matter.
	The king, of his own royal disposition,
	And not provoked by any suitor else;
	Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred,
	Which in your outward actions shows itself
	Against my kindred, brothers, and myself,
	Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather
	The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it.

GLOUCESTER	I cannot tell: the world is grown so bad,
	That wrens make prey where eagles dare not perch:
	Since every Jack became a gentleman
	There's many a gentle person made a Jack.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Come, come, we know your meaning, brother
	Gloucester;
	You envy my advancement and my friends':
	God grant we never may have need of you!

GLOUCESTER	Meantime, God grants that we have need of you:
	Your brother is imprison'd by your means,
	Myself disgraced, and the nobility
	Held in contempt; whilst many fair promotions
	Are daily given to ennoble those
	That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	By Him that raised me to this careful height
	From that contented hap which I enjoy'd,
	I never did incense his majesty
	Against the Duke of Clarence, but have been
	An earnest advocate to plead for him.
	My lord, you do me shameful injury,
	Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects.

GLOUCESTER	You may deny that you were not the cause
	Of my Lord Hastings' late imprisonment.

RIVERS	She may, my lord, for--

GLOUCESTER	She may, Lord Rivers! why, who knows not so?
	She may do more, sir, than denying that:
	She may help you to many fair preferments,
	And then deny her aiding hand therein,
	And lay those honours on your high deserts.
	What may she not? She may, yea, marry, may she--

RIVERS	What, marry, may she?

GLOUCESTER	What, marry, may she! marry with a king,
	A bachelor, a handsome stripling too:
	I wis your grandam had a worser match.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	My Lord of Gloucester, I have too long borne
	Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs:
	By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty
	With those gross taunts I often have endured.
	I had rather be a country servant-maid
	Than a great queen, with this condition,
	To be thus taunted, scorn'd, and baited at:

	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET, behind]

	Small joy have I in being England's queen.

QUEEN MARGARET	And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee!
	Thy honour, state and seat is due to me.

GLOUCESTER	What! threat you me with telling of the king?
	Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said
	I will avouch in presence of the king:
	I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower.
	'Tis time to speak; my pains are quite forgot.

QUEEN MARGARET	Out, devil! I remember them too well:
	Thou slewest my husband Henry in the Tower,
	And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury.

GLOUCESTER	Ere you were queen, yea, or your husband king,
	I was a pack-horse in his great affairs;
	A weeder-out of his proud adversaries,
	A liberal rewarder of his friends:
	To royalize his blood I spilt mine own.

QUEEN MARGARET	Yea, and much better blood than his or thine.

GLOUCESTER	In all which time you and your husband Grey
	Were factious for the house of Lancaster;
	And, Rivers, so were you. Was not your husband
	In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain?
	Let me put in your minds, if you forget,
	What you have been ere now, and what you are;
	Withal, what I have been, and what I am.

QUEEN MARGARET	A murderous villain, and so still thou art.

GLOUCESTER	Poor Clarence did forsake his father, Warwick;
	Yea, and forswore himself,--which Jesu pardon!--

QUEEN MARGARET	Which God revenge!

GLOUCESTER	To fight on Edward's party for the crown;
	And for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up.
	I would to God my heart were flint, like Edward's;
	Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine
	I am too childish-foolish for this world.

QUEEN MARGARET	Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave the world,
	Thou cacodemon! there thy kingdom is.

RIVERS	My Lord of Gloucester, in those busy days
	Which here you urge to prove us enemies,
	We follow'd then our lord, our lawful king:
	So should we you, if you should be our king.

GLOUCESTER	If I should be! I had rather be a pedlar:
	Far be it from my heart, the thought of it!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	As little joy, my lord, as you suppose
	You should enjoy, were you this country's king,
	As little joy may you suppose in me.
	That I enjoy, being the queen thereof.

QUEEN MARGARET	A little joy enjoys the queen thereof;
	For I am she, and altogether joyless.
	I can no longer hold me patient.

	[Advancing]

	Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out
	In sharing that which you have pill'd from me!
	Which of you trembles not that looks on me?
	If not, that, I being queen, you bow like subjects,
	Yet that, by you deposed, you quake like rebels?
	O gentle villain, do not turn away!

GLOUCESTER	Foul wrinkled witch, what makest thou in my sight?

QUEEN MARGARET	But repetition of what thou hast marr'd;
	That will I make before I let thee go.

GLOUCESTER	Wert thou not banished on pain of death?

QUEEN MARGARET	I was; but I do find more pain in banishment
	Than death can yield me here by my abode.
	A husband and a son thou owest to me;
	And thou a kingdom; all of you allegiance:
	The sorrow that I have, by right is yours,
	And all the pleasures you usurp are mine.

GLOUCESTER	The curse my noble father laid on thee,
	When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper
	And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes,
	And then, to dry them, gavest the duke a clout
	Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland--
	His curses, then from bitterness of soul
	Denounced against thee, are all fall'n upon thee;
	And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	So just is God, to right the innocent.

HASTINGS	O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe,
	And the most merciless that e'er was heard of!

RIVERS	Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported.

DORSET	No man but prophesied revenge for it.

BUCKINGHAM	Northumberland, then present, wept to see it.

QUEEN MARGARET	What were you snarling all before I came,
	Ready to catch each other by the throat,
	And turn you all your hatred now on me?
	Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven?
	That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death,
	Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment,
	Could all but answer for that peevish brat?
	Can curses pierce the clouds and enter heaven?
	Why, then, give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!
	If not by war, by surfeit die your king,
	As ours by murder, to make him a king!
	Edward thy son, which now is Prince of Wales,
	For Edward my son, which was Prince of Wales,
	Die in his youth by like untimely violence!
	Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen,
	Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self!
	Long mayst thou live to wail thy children's loss;
	And see another, as I see thee now,
	Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine!
	Long die thy happy days before thy death;
	And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief,
	Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!
	Rivers and Dorset, you were standers by,
	And so wast thou, Lord Hastings, when my son
	Was stabb'd with bloody daggers: God, I pray him,
	That none of you may live your natural age,
	But by some unlook'd accident cut off!

GLOUCESTER	Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag!

QUEEN MARGARET	And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me.
	If heaven have any grievous plague in store
	Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee,
	O, let them keep it till thy sins be ripe,
	And then hurl down their indignation
	On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace!
	The worm of conscience still begnaw thy soul!
	Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou livest,
	And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends!
	No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine,
	Unless it be whilst some tormenting dream
	Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils!
	Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog!
	Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity
	The slave of nature and the son of hell!
	Thou slander of thy mother's heavy womb!
	Thou loathed issue of thy father's loins!
	Thou rag of honour! thou detested--

GLOUCESTER	Margaret.

QUEEN MARGARET	        Richard!

GLOUCESTER	                  Ha!

QUEEN MARGARET	                  I call thee not.

GLOUCESTER	I cry thee mercy then, for I had thought
	That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

QUEEN MARGARET	Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply.
	O, let me make the period to my curse!

GLOUCESTER	'Tis done by me, and ends in 'Margaret.'

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Thus have you breathed your curse against yourself.

QUEEN MARGARET	Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune!
	Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,
	Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about?
	Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself.
	The time will come when thou shalt wish for me
	To help thee curse that poisonous bunchback'd toad.

HASTINGS	False-boding woman, end thy frantic curse,
	Lest to thy harm thou move our patience.

QUEEN MARGARET	Foul shame upon you! you have all moved mine.

RIVERS	Were you well served, you would be taught your duty.

QUEEN MARGARET	To serve me well, you all should do me duty,
	Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects:
	O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty!

DORSET	Dispute not with her; she is lunatic.

QUEEN MARGARET	Peace, master marquess, you are malapert:
	Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current.
	O, that your young nobility could judge
	What 'twere to lose it, and be miserable!
	They that stand high have many blasts to shake them;
	And if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces.

GLOUCESTER	Good counsel, marry: learn it, learn it, marquess.

DORSET	It toucheth you, my lord, as much as me.

GLOUCESTER	Yea, and much more: but I was born so high,
	Our aery buildeth in the cedar's top,
	And dallies with the wind and scorns the sun.

QUEEN MARGARET	And turns the sun to shade; alas! alas!
	Witness my son, now in the shade of death;
	Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath
	Hath in eternal darkness folded up.
	Your aery buildeth in our aery's nest.
	O God, that seest it, do not suffer it!
	As it was won with blood, lost be it so!

BUCKINGHAM	Have done! for shame, if not for charity.

QUEEN MARGARET	Urge neither charity nor shame to me:
	Uncharitably with me have you dealt,
	And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.
	My charity is outrage, life my shame
	And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage.

BUCKINGHAM	Have done, have done.

QUEEN MARGARET	O princely Buckingham I'll kiss thy hand,
	In sign of league and amity with thee:
	Now fair befal thee and thy noble house!
	Thy garments are not spotted with our blood,
	Nor thou within the compass of my curse.

BUCKINGHAM	Nor no one here; for curses never pass
	The lips of those that breathe them in the air.

QUEEN MARGARET	I'll not believe but they ascend the sky,
	And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace.
	O Buckingham, take heed of yonder dog!
	Look, when he fawns, he bites; and when he bites,
	His venom tooth will rankle to the death:
	Have not to do with him, beware of him;
	Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him,
	And all their ministers attend on him.

GLOUCESTER	What doth she say, my Lord of Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM	Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord.

QUEEN MARGARET	What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel?
	And soothe the devil that I warn thee from?
	O, but remember this another day,
	When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow,
	And say poor Margaret was a prophetess!
	Live each of you the subjects to his hate,
	And he to yours, and all of you to God's!

	[Exit]

HASTINGS	My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses.

RIVERS	And so doth mine: I muse why she's at liberty.

GLOUCESTER	I cannot blame her: by God's holy mother,
	She hath had too much wrong; and I repent
	My part thereof that I have done to her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	I never did her any, to my knowledge.

GLOUCESTER	But you have all the vantage of her wrong.
	I was too hot to do somebody good,
	That is too cold in thinking of it now.
	Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid,
	He is frank'd up to fatting for his pains
	God pardon them that are the cause of it!

RIVERS	A virtuous and a Christian-like conclusion,
	To pray for them that have done scathe to us.

GLOUCESTER	So do I ever:

	[Aside]

	being well-advised.
	For had I cursed now, I had cursed myself.

	[Enter CATESBY]

CATESBY	Madam, his majesty doth call for you,
	And for your grace; and you, my noble lords.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Catesby, we come. Lords, will you go with us?

RIVERS	Madam, we will attend your grace.

	[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl.
	The secret mischiefs that I set abroach
	I lay unto the grievous charge of others.
	Clarence, whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,
	I do beweep to many simple gulls
	Namely, to Hastings, Derby, Buckingham;
	And say it is the queen and her allies
	That stir the king against the duke my brother.
	Now, they believe it; and withal whet me
	To be revenged on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey:
	But then I sigh; and, with a piece of scripture,
	Tell them that God bids us do good for evil:
	And thus I clothe my naked villany
	With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ;
	And seem a saint, when most I play the devil.

	[Enter two Murderers]

	But, soft! here come my executioners.
	How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates!
	Are you now going to dispatch this deed?

First Murderer	We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant
	That we may be admitted where he is.

GLOUCESTER	Well thought upon; I have it here about me.

	[Gives the warrant]

	When you have done, repair to Crosby Place.
	But, sirs, be sudden in the execution,
	Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead;
	For Clarence is well-spoken, and perhaps
	May move your hearts to pity if you mark him.

First Murderer	Tush!
	Fear not, my lord, we will not stand to prate;
	Talkers are no good doers: be assured
	We come to use our hands and not our tongues.

GLOUCESTER	Your eyes drop millstones, when fools' eyes drop tears:
	I like you, lads; about your business straight;
	Go, go, dispatch.

First Murderer	                  We will, my noble lord.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT I



SCENE IV	London. The Tower.


	[Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY]

BRAKENBURY	Why looks your grace so heavily today?

CLARENCE	O, I have pass'd a miserable night,
	So full of ugly sights, of ghastly dreams,
	That, as I am a Christian faithful man,
	I would not spend another such a night,
	Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days,
	So full of dismal terror was the time!

BRAKENBURY	What was your dream? I long to hear you tell it.

CLARENCE	Methoughts that I had broken from the Tower,
	And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy;
	And, in my company, my brother Gloucester;
	Who from my cabin tempted me to walk
	Upon the hatches: thence we looked toward England,
	And cited up a thousand fearful times,
	During the wars of York and Lancaster
	That had befall'n us. As we paced along
	Upon the giddy footing of the hatches,
	Methought that Gloucester stumbled; and, in falling,
	Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard,
	Into the tumbling billows of the main.
	Lord, Lord! methought, what pain it was to drown!
	What dreadful noise of waters in mine ears!
	What ugly sights of death within mine eyes!
	Methought I saw a thousand fearful wrecks;
	Ten thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon;
	Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl,
	Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels,
	All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea:
	Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes
	Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept,
	As 'twere in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems,
	Which woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep,
	And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by.

BRAKENBURY	Had you such leisure in the time of death
	To gaze upon the secrets of the deep?

CLARENCE	Methought I had; and often did I strive
	To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood
	Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth
	To seek the empty, vast and wandering air;
	But smother'd it within my panting bulk,
	Which almost burst to belch it in the sea.

BRAKENBURY	Awaked you not with this sore agony?

CLARENCE	O, no, my dream was lengthen'd after life;
	O, then began the tempest to my soul,
	Who pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood,
	With that grim ferryman which poets write of,
	Unto the kingdom of perpetual night.
	The first that there did greet my stranger soul,
	Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick;
	Who cried aloud, 'What scourge for perjury
	Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence?'
	And so he vanish'd: then came wandering by
	A shadow like an angel, with bright hair
	Dabbled in blood; and he squeak'd out aloud,
	'Clarence is come; false, fleeting, perjured Clarence,
	That stabb'd me in the field by Tewksbury;
	Seize on him, Furies, take him to your torments!'
	With that, methoughts, a legion of foul fiends
	Environ'd me about, and howled in mine ears
	Such hideous cries, that with the very noise
	I trembling waked, and for a season after
	Could not believe but that I was in hell,
	Such terrible impression made the dream.

BRAKENBURY	No marvel, my lord, though it affrighted you;
	I promise, I am afraid to hear you tell it.

CLARENCE	O Brakenbury, I have done those things,
	Which now bear evidence against my soul,
	For Edward's sake; and see how he requites me!
	O God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee,
	But thou wilt be avenged on my misdeeds,
	Yet execute thy wrath in me alone,
	O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children!
	I pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me;
	My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep.

BRAKENBURY	I will, my lord: God give your grace good rest!

	[CLARENCE sleeps]

	Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours,
	Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night.
	Princes have but their tides for their glories,
	An outward honour for an inward toil;
	And, for unfelt imagination,
	They often feel a world of restless cares:
	So that, betwixt their tides and low names,
	There's nothing differs but the outward fame.

	[Enter the two Murderers]

First Murderer	Ho! who's here?

BRAKENBURY	In God's name what are you, and how came you hither?

First Murderer	I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs.

BRAKENBURY	Yea, are you so brief?

Second Murderer	O sir, it is better to be brief than tedious. Show
	him our commission; talk no more.

	[BRAKENBURY reads it]

BRAKENBURY	I am, in this, commanded to deliver
	The noble Duke of Clarence to your hands:
	I will not reason what is meant hereby,
	Because I will be guiltless of the meaning.
	Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep:
	I'll to the king; and signify to him
	That thus I have resign'd my charge to you.

First Murderer	Do so, it is a point of wisdom: fare you well.

	[Exit BRAKENBURY]

Second Murderer	What, shall we stab him as he sleeps?

First Murderer	No; then he will say 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes.

Second Murderer	When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake till
	the judgment-day.

First Murderer	Why, then he will say we stabbed him sleeping.

Second Murderer	The urging of that word 'judgment' hath bred a kind
	of remorse in me.

First Murderer	What, art thou afraid?

Second Murderer	Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be
	damned for killing him, from which no warrant can defend us.

First Murderer	I thought thou hadst been resolute.

Second Murderer	So I am, to let him live.

First Murderer	Back to the Duke of Gloucester, tell him so.

Second Murderer	I pray thee, stay a while: I hope my holy humour
	will change; 'twas wont to hold me but while one
	would tell twenty.

First Murderer	How dost thou feel thyself now?

Second Murderer	'Faith, some certain dregs of conscience are yet
	within me.

First Murderer	Remember our reward, when the deed is done.

Second Murderer	'Zounds, he dies: I had forgot the reward.

First Murderer	Where is thy conscience now?

Second Murderer	In the Duke of Gloucester's purse.

First Murderer	So when he opens his purse to give us our reward,
	thy conscience flies out.

Second Murderer	Let it go; there's few or none will entertain it.

First Murderer	How if it come to thee again?

Second Murderer	I'll not meddle with it: it is a dangerous thing: it
	makes a man a coward: a man cannot steal, but it
	accuseth him; he cannot swear, but it cheques him;
	he cannot lie with his neighbour's wife, but it
	detects him: 'tis a blushing shamefast spirit that
	mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of
	obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold
	that I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it
	is turned out of all towns and cities for a
	dangerous thing; and every man that means to live
	well endeavours to trust to himself and to live
	without it.

First Murderer	'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me
	not to kill the duke.

Second Murderer	Take the devil in thy mind, and relieve him not: he
	would insinuate with thee but to make thee sigh.

First Murderer	Tut, I am strong-framed, he cannot prevail with me,
	I warrant thee.

Second Murderer	Spoke like a tail fellow that respects his
	reputation. Come, shall we to this gear?

First Murderer	Take him over the costard with the hilts of thy
	sword, and then we will chop him in the malmsey-butt
	in the next room.

Second Murderer	O excellent devise! make a sop of him.

First Murderer	Hark! he stirs: shall I strike?

Second Murderer	No, first let's reason with him.

CLARENCE	Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine.

Second murderer	You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon.

CLARENCE	In God's name, what art thou?

Second Murderer	A man, as you are.

CLARENCE	But not, as I am, royal.

Second Murderer	Nor you, as we are, loyal.

CLARENCE	Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble.

Second Murderer	My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own.

CLARENCE	How darkly and how deadly dost thou speak!
	Your eyes do menace me: why look you pale?
	Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come?

Both	To, to, to--

CLARENCE	To murder me?

Both	Ay, ay.

CLARENCE	You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so,
	And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it.
	Wherein, my friends, have I offended you?

First Murderer	Offended us you have not, but the king.

CLARENCE	I shall be reconciled to him again.

Second Murderer	Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die.

CLARENCE	Are you call'd forth from out a world of men
	To slay the innocent? What is my offence?
	Where are the evidence that do accuse me?
	What lawful quest have given their verdict up
	Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounced
	The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death?
	Before I be convict by course of law,
	To threaten me with death is most unlawful.
	I charge you, as you hope to have redemption
	By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins,
	That you depart and lay no hands on me
	The deed you undertake is damnable.

First Murderer	What we will do, we do upon command.

Second Murderer	And he that hath commanded is the king.

CLARENCE	Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings
	Hath in the tables of his law commanded
	That thou shalt do no murder: and wilt thou, then,
	Spurn at his edict and fulfil a man's?
	Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hands,
	To hurl upon their heads that break his law.

Second Murderer	And that same vengeance doth he hurl on thee,
	For false forswearing and for murder too:
	Thou didst receive the holy sacrament,
	To fight in quarrel of the house of Lancaster.

First Murderer	And, like a traitor to the name of God,
	Didst break that vow; and with thy treacherous blade
	Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son.

Second Murderer	Whom thou wert sworn to cherish and defend.

First Murderer	How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us,
	When thou hast broke it in so dear degree?

CLARENCE	Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed?
	For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: Why, sirs,
	He sends ye not to murder me for this
	For in this sin he is as deep as I.
	If God will be revenged for this deed.
	O, know you yet, he doth it publicly,
	Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm;
	He needs no indirect nor lawless course
	To cut off those that have offended him.

First Murderer	Who made thee, then, a bloody minister,
	When gallant-springing brave Plantagenet,
	That princely novice, was struck dead by thee?

CLARENCE	My brother's love, the devil, and my rage.

First Murderer	Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault,
	Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee.

CLARENCE	Oh, if you love my brother, hate not me;
	I am his brother, and I love him well.
	If you be hired for meed, go back again,
	And I will send you to my brother Gloucester,
	Who shall reward you better for my life
	Than Edward will for tidings of my death.

Second Murderer	You are deceived, your brother Gloucester hates you.

CLARENCE	O, no, he loves me, and he holds me dear:
	Go you to him from me.

Both	Ay, so we will.

CLARENCE	Tell him, when that our princely father York
	Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm,
	And charged us from his soul to love each other,
	He little thought of this divided friendship:
	Bid Gloucester think of this, and he will weep.

First Murderer	Ay, millstones; as be lesson'd us to weep.

CLARENCE	O, do not slander him, for he is kind.

First Murderer	Right,
	As snow in harvest. Thou deceivest thyself:
	'Tis he that sent us hither now to slaughter thee.

CLARENCE	It cannot be; for when I parted with him,
	He hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs,
	That he would labour my delivery.

Second Murderer	Why, so he doth, now he delivers thee
	From this world's thraldom to the joys of heaven.

First Murderer	Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord.

CLARENCE	Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul,
	To counsel me to make my peace with God,
	And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind,
	That thou wilt war with God by murdering me?
	Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on
	To do this deed will hate you for the deed.

Second Murderer	What shall we do?

CLARENCE	                  Relent, and save your souls.

First Murderer	Relent! 'tis cowardly and womanish.

CLARENCE	Not to relent is beastly, savage, devilish.
	Which of you, if you were a prince's son,
	Being pent from liberty, as I am now,
	if two such murderers as yourselves came to you,
	Would not entreat for life?
	My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks:
	O, if thine eye be not a flatterer,
	Come thou on my side, and entreat for me,
	As you would beg, were you in my distress
	A begging prince what beggar pities not?

Second Murderer	Look behind you, my lord.

First Murderer	Take that, and that: if all this will not do,

	[Stabs him]

	I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within.

	[Exit, with the body]

Second Murderer	A bloody deed, and desperately dispatch'd!
	How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands
	Of this most grievous guilty murder done!

	[Re-enter First Murderer]

First Murderer	How now! what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not?
	By heavens, the duke shall know how slack thou art!

Second Murderer	I would he knew that I had saved his brother!
	Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say;
	For I repent me that the duke is slain.

	[Exit]

First Murderer	So do not I: go, coward as thou art.
	Now must I hide his body in some hole,
	Until the duke take order for his burial:
	And when I have my meed, I must away;
	For this will out, and here I must not stay.




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE I	London. The palace.


	[Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD IV sick, QUEEN
	ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM,
	GREY, and others]

KING EDWARD IV	Why, so: now have I done a good day's work:
	You peers, continue this united league:
	I every day expect an embassage
	From my Redeemer to redeem me hence;
	And now in peace my soul shall part to heaven,
	Since I have set my friends at peace on earth.
	Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand;
	Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love.

RIVERS	By heaven, my heart is purged from grudging hate:
	And with my hand I seal my true heart's love.

HASTINGS	So thrive I, as I truly swear the like!

KING EDWARD IV	Take heed you dally not before your king;
	Lest he that is the supreme King of kings
	Confound your hidden falsehood, and award
	Either of you to be the other's end.

HASTINGS	So prosper I, as I swear perfect love!

RIVERS	And I, as I love Hastings with my heart!

KING EDWARD IV	Madam, yourself are not exempt in this,
	Nor your son Dorset, Buckingham, nor you;
	You have been factious one against the other,
	Wife, love Lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand;
	And what you do, do it unfeignedly.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Here, Hastings; I will never more remember
	Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine!

KING EDWARD IV	Dorset, embrace him; Hastings, love lord marquess.

DORSET	This interchange of love, I here protest,
	Upon my part shall be unviolable.

HASTINGS	And so swear I, my lord

	[They embrace]

KING EDWARD IV	Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league
	With thy embracements to my wife's allies,
	And make me happy in your unity.

BUCKINGHAM	Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate
	On you or yours,

	[To the Queen]

	but with all duteous love
	Doth cherish you and yours, God punish me
	With hate in those where I expect most love!
	When I have most need to employ a friend,
	And most assured that he is a friend
	Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile,
	Be he unto me! this do I beg of God,
	When I am cold in zeal to yours.

KING EDWARD IV	A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham,
	is this thy vow unto my sickly heart.
	There wanteth now our brother Gloucester here,
	To make the perfect period of this peace.

BUCKINGHAM	And, in good time, here comes the noble duke.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER]

GLOUCESTER	Good morrow to my sovereign king and queen:
	And, princely peers, a happy time of day!

KING EDWARD IV	Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day.
	Brother, we done deeds of charity;
	Made peace enmity, fair love of hate,
	Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers.

GLOUCESTER	A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege:
	Amongst this princely heap, if any here,
	By false intelligence, or wrong surmise,
	Hold me a foe;
	If I unwittingly, or in my rage,
	Have aught committed that is hardly borne
	By any in this presence, I desire
	To reconcile me to his friendly peace:
	'Tis death to me to be at enmity;
	I hate it, and desire all good men's love.
	First, madam, I entreat true peace of you,
	Which I will purchase with my duteous service;
	Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham,
	If ever any grudge were lodged between us;
	Of you, Lord Rivers, and, Lord Grey, of you;
	That without desert have frown'd on me;
	Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all.
	I do not know that Englishman alive
	With whom my soul is any jot at odds
	More than the infant that is born to-night
	I thank my God for my humility.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	A holy day shall this be kept hereafter:
	I would to God all strifes were well compounded.
	My sovereign liege, I do beseech your majesty
	To take our brother Clarence to your grace.

GLOUCESTER	Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this
	To be so bouted in this royal presence?
	Who knows not that the noble duke is dead?

	[They all start]

	You do him injury to scorn his corse.

RIVERS	Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	All seeing heaven, what a world is this!

BUCKINGHAM	Look I so pale, Lord Dorset, as the rest?

DORSET	Ay, my good lord; and no one in this presence
	But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks.

KING EDWARD IV	Is Clarence dead? the order was reversed.

GLOUCESTER	But he, poor soul, by your first order died,
	And that a winged Mercury did bear:
	Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,
	That came too lag to see him buried.
	God grant that some, less noble and less loyal,
	Nearer in bloody thoughts, but not in blood,
	Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did,
	And yet go current from suspicion!

	[Enter DERBY]

DORSET	A boon, my sovereign, for my service done!

KING EDWARD IV	I pray thee, peace: my soul is full of sorrow.

DORSET	I will not rise, unless your highness grant.

KING EDWARD IV	Then speak at once what is it thou demand'st.

DORSET	The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life;
	Who slew to-day a righteous gentleman
	Lately attendant on the Duke of Norfolk.

KING EDWARD IV	Have a tongue to doom my brother's death,
	And shall the same give pardon to a slave?
	My brother slew no man; his fault was thought,
	And yet his punishment was cruel death.
	Who sued to me for him? who, in my rage,
	Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advised
	Who spake of brotherhood? who spake of love?
	Who told me how the poor soul did forsake
	The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me?
	Who told me, in the field by Tewksbury
	When Oxford had me down, he rescued me,
	And said, 'Dear brother, live, and be a king'?
	Who told me, when we both lay in the field
	Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me
	Even in his own garments, and gave himself,
	All thin and naked, to the numb cold night?
	All this from my remembrance brutish wrath
	Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you
	Had so much grace to put it in my mind.
	But when your carters or your waiting-vassals
	Have done a drunken slaughter, and defaced
	The precious image of our dear Redeemer,
	You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon;
	And I unjustly too, must grant it you
	But for my brother not a man would speak,
	Nor I, ungracious, speak unto myself
	For him, poor soul. The proudest of you all
	Have been beholding to him in his life;
	Yet none of you would once plead for his life.
	O God, I fear thy justice will take hold
	On me, and you, and mine, and yours for this!
	Come, Hastings, help me to my closet.
	Oh, poor Clarence!

	[Exeunt some with KING EDWARD IV and QUEEN MARGARET]

GLOUCESTER	This is the fruit of rashness! Mark'd you not
	How that the guilty kindred of the queen
	Look'd pale when they did hear of Clarence' death?
	O, they did urge it still unto the king!
	God will revenge it. But come, let us in,
	To comfort Edward with our company.

BUCKINGHAM	We wait upon your grace.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE II	The palace.


	[Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with the two children of CLARENCE]

Boy	Tell me, good grandam, is our father dead?

DUCHESS OF YORK	No, boy.

Boy	Why do you wring your hands, and beat your breast,
	And cry 'O Clarence, my unhappy son!'

Girl	Why do you look on us, and shake your head,
	And call us wretches, orphans, castaways
	If that our noble father be alive?

DUCHESS OF YORK	My pretty cousins, you mistake me much;
	I do lament the sickness of the king.
	As loath to lose him, not your father's death;
	It were lost sorrow to wail one that's lost.

Boy	Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead.
	The king my uncle is to blame for this:
	God will revenge it; whom I will importune
	With daily prayers all to that effect.

Girl	And so will I.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well:
	Incapable and shallow innocents,
	You cannot guess who caused your father's death.

Boy	Grandam, we can; for my good uncle Gloucester
	Told me, the king, provoked by the queen,
	Devised impeachments to imprison him :
	And when my uncle told me so, he wept,
	And hugg'd me in his arm, and kindly kiss'd my cheek;
	Bade me rely on him as on my father,
	And he would love me dearly as his child.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Oh, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes,
	And with a virtuous vizard hide foul guile!
	He is my son; yea, and therein my shame;
	Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit.

Boy	Think you my uncle did dissemble, grandam?

DUCHESS OF YORK	Ay, boy.

Boy	I cannot think it. Hark! what noise is this?

	[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, with her hair about her
	ears; RIVERS, and DORSET after her]

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Oh, who shall hinder me to wail and weep,
	To chide my fortune, and torment myself?
	I'll join with black despair against my soul,
	And to myself become an enemy.

DUCHESS OF YORK	What means this scene of rude impatience?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	To make an act of tragic violence:
	Edward, my lord, your son, our king, is dead.
	Why grow the branches now the root is wither'd?
	Why wither not the leaves the sap being gone?
	If you will live, lament; if die, be brief,
	That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's;
	Or, like obedient subjects, follow him
	To his new kingdom of perpetual rest.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow
	As I had title in thy noble husband!
	I have bewept a worthy husband's death,
	And lived by looking on his images:
	But now two mirrors of his princely semblance
	Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death,
	And I for comfort have but one false glass,
	Which grieves me when I see my shame in him.
	Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother,
	And hast the comfort of thy children left thee:
	But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine arms,
	And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble limbs,
	Edward and Clarence. O, what cause have I,
	Thine being but a moiety of my grief,
	To overgo thy plaints and drown thy cries!

Boy	Good aunt, you wept not for our father's death;
	How can we aid you with our kindred tears?

Girl	Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd;
	Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Give me no help in lamentation;
	I am not barren to bring forth complaints
	All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes,
	That I, being govern'd by the watery moon,
	May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world!
	Oh for my husband, for my dear lord Edward!

Children	Oh for our father, for our dear lord Clarence!

DUCHESS OF YORK	Alas for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	What stay had I but Edward? and he's gone.

Children	What stay had we but Clarence? and he's gone.

DUCHESS OF YORK	What stays had I but they? and they are gone.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Was never widow had so dear a loss!

Children	Were never orphans had so dear a loss!

DUCHESS OF YORK	Was never mother had so dear a loss!
	Alas, I am the mother of these moans!
	Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general.
	She for an Edward weeps, and so do I;
	I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she:
	These babes for Clarence weep and so do I;
	I for an Edward weep, so do not they:
	Alas, you three, on me, threefold distress'd,
	Pour all your tears! I am your sorrow's nurse,
	And I will pamper it with lamentations.

DORSET	Comfort, dear mother: God is much displeased
	That you take with unthankfulness, his doing:
	In common worldly things, 'tis call'd ungrateful,
	With dull unwilligness to repay a debt
	Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent;
	Much more to be thus opposite with heaven,
	For it requires the royal debt it lent you.

RIVERS	Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother,
	Of the young prince your son: send straight for him
	Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives:
	Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave,
	And plant your joys in living Edward's throne.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, and RATCLIFF]

GLOUCESTER	Madam, have comfort: all of us have cause
	To wail the dimming of our shining star;
	But none can cure their harms by wailing them.
	Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy;
	I did not see your grace: humbly on my knee
	I crave your blessing.

DUCHESS OF YORK	God bless thee; and put meekness in thy mind,
	Love, charity, obedience, and true duty!

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  Amen; and make me die a good old man!
	That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing:
	I marvel why her grace did leave it out.

BUCKINGHAM	You cloudy princes and heart-sorrowing peers,
	That bear this mutual heavy load of moan,
	Now cheer each other in each other's love
	Though we have spent our harvest of this king,
	We are to reap the harvest of his son.
	The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts,
	But lately splinter'd, knit, and join'd together,
	Must gently be preserved, cherish'd, and kept:
	Me seemeth good, that, with some little train,
	Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd
	Hither to London, to be crown'd our king.

RIVERS	Why with some little train, my Lord of Buckingham?

BUCKINGHAM	Marry, my lord, lest, by a multitude,
	The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out,
	Which would be so much the more dangerous
	By how much the estate is green and yet ungovern'd:
	Where every horse bears his commanding rein,
	And may direct his course as please himself,
	As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent,
	In my opinion, ought to be prevented.

GLOUCESTER	I hope the king made peace with all of us
	And the compact is firm and true in me.

RIVERS	And so in me; and so, I think, in all:
	Yet, since it is but green, it should be put
	To no apparent likelihood of breach,
	Which haply by much company might be urged:
	Therefore I say with noble Buckingham,
	That it is meet so few should fetch the prince.

HASTINGS	And so say I.

GLOUCESTER	Then be it so; and go we to determine
	Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow.
	Madam, and you, my mother, will you go
	To give your censures in this weighty business?


QUEEN ELIZABETH	|
	|  With all our harts.
DUCHESS OF YORK	|


	[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOUCESTER]

BUCKINGHAM	My lord, whoever journeys to the Prince,
	For God's sake, let not us two be behind;
	For, by the way, I'll sort occasion,
	As index to the story we late talk'd of,
	To part the queen's proud kindred from the king.

GLOUCESTER	My other self, my counsel's consistory,
	My oracle, my prophet! My dear cousin,
	I, like a child, will go by thy direction.
	Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE III	London. A street.


	[Enter two Citizens meeting]

First Citizen	Neighbour, well met: whither away so fast?

Second Citizen	I promise you, I scarcely know myself:
	Hear you the news abroad?

First Citizen	Ay, that the king is dead.

Second Citizen	Bad news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better:
	I fear, I fear 'twill prove a troublous world.

	[Enter another Citizen]

Third Citizen	Neighbours, God speed!

First Citizen	Give you good morrow, sir.

Third Citizen	Doth this news hold of good King Edward's death?

Second Citizen	Ay, sir, it is too true; God help the while!

Third Citizen	Then, masters, look to see a troublous world.

First Citizen	No, no; by God's good grace his son shall reign.

Third Citizen	Woe to the land that's govern'd by a child!

Second Citizen	In him there is a hope of government,
	That in his nonage council under him,
	And in his full and ripen'd years himself,
	No doubt, shall then and till then govern well.

First Citizen	So stood the state when Henry the Sixth
	Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old.

Third Citizen	Stood the state so? No, no, good friends, God wot;
	For then this land was famously enrich'd
	With politic grave counsel; then the king
	Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace.

First Citizen	Why, so hath this, both by the father and mother.

Third Citizen	Better it were they all came by the father,
	Or by the father there were none at all;
	For emulation now, who shall be nearest,
	Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not.
	O, full of danger is the Duke of Gloucester!
	And the queen's sons and brothers haught and proud:
	And were they to be ruled, and not to rule,
	This sickly land might solace as before.

First Citizen	Come, come, we fear the worst; all shall be well.

Third Citizen	When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks;
	When great leaves fall, the winter is at hand;
	When the sun sets, who doth not look for night?
	Untimely storms make men expect a dearth.
	All may be well; but, if God sort it so,
	'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect.

Second Citizen	Truly, the souls of men are full of dread:
	Ye cannot reason almost with a man
	That looks not heavily and full of fear.

Third Citizen	Before the times of change, still is it so:
	By a divine instinct men's minds mistrust
	Ensuing dangers; as by proof, we see
	The waters swell before a boisterous storm.
	But leave it all to God. whither away?

Second Citizen	Marry, we were sent for to the justices.

Third Citizen	And so was I: I'll bear you company.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT II



SCENE IV	London. The palace.


	[Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, young YORK, QUEEN
	ELIZABETH, and the DUCHESS OF YORK]

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton;
	At Stony-Stratford will they be to-night:
	To-morrow, or next day, they will be here.

DUCHESS OF YORK	I long with all my heart to see the prince:
	I hope he is much grown since last I saw him.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	But I hear, no; they say my son of York
	Hath almost overta'en him in his growth.

YORK	Ay, mother; but I would not have it so.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Why, my young cousin, it is good to grow.

YORK	Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper,
	My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow
	More than my brother: 'Ay,' quoth my uncle
	Gloucester,
	'Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:'
	And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast,
	Because sweet flowers are slow and weeds make haste.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Good faith, good faith, the saying did not hold
	In him that did object the same to thee;
	He was the wretched'st thing when he was young,
	So long a-growing and so leisurely,
	That, if this rule were true, he should be gracious.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Why, madam, so, no doubt, he is.

DUCHESS OF YORK	I hope he is; but yet let mothers doubt.

YORK	Now, by my troth, if I had been remember'd,
	I could have given my uncle's grace a flout,
	To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine.

DUCHESS OF YORK	How, my pretty York? I pray thee, let me hear it.

YORK	Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast
	That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old
	'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth.
	Grandam, this would have been a biting jest.

DUCHESS OF YORK	I pray thee, pretty York, who told thee this?

YORK	Grandam, his nurse.

DUCHESS OF YORK	His nurse! why, she was dead ere thou wert born.

YORK	If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	A parlous boy: go to, you are too shrewd.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Good madam, be not angry with the child.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Pitchers have ears.

	[Enter a Messenger]

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	Here comes a messenger. What news?

Messenger	Such news, my lord, as grieves me to unfold.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	How fares the prince?

Messenger	Well, madam, and in health.

DUCHESS OF YORK	What is thy news then?

Messenger	Lord Rivers and Lord Grey are sent to Pomfret,
	With them Sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Who hath committed them?

Messenger	The mighty dukes
	Gloucester and Buckingham.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	For what offence?

Messenger	The sum of all I can, I have disclosed;
	Why or for what these nobles were committed
	Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Ay me, I see the downfall of our house!
	The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind;
	Insulting tyranny begins to jet
	Upon the innocent and aweless throne:
	Welcome, destruction, death, and massacre!
	I see, as in a map, the end of all.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Accursed and unquiet wrangling days,
	How many of you have mine eyes beheld!
	My husband lost his life to get the crown;
	And often up and down my sons were toss'd,
	For me to joy and weep their gain and loss:
	And being seated, and domestic broils
	Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors.
	Make war upon themselves; blood against blood,
	Self against self: O, preposterous
	And frantic outrage, end thy damned spleen;
	Or let me die, to look on death no more!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Come, come, my boy; we will to sanctuary.
	Madam, farewell.

DUCHESS OF YORK	                  I'll go along with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	You have no cause.

ARCHBISHOP OF YORK	                  My gracious lady, go;
	And thither bear your treasure and your goods.
	For my part, I'll resign unto your grace
	The seal I keep: and so betide to me
	As well I tender you and all of yours!
	Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE I	London. A street.


	[The trumpets sound. Enter the young PRINCE EDWARD,
	GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM, CARDINAL, CATESBY, and others]

BUCKINGHAM	Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber.

GLOUCESTER	Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign
	The weary way hath made you melancholy.

PRINCE EDWARD	No, uncle; but our crosses on the way
	Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy
	I want more uncles here to welcome me.

GLOUCESTER	Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years
	Hath not yet dived into the world's deceit
	Nor more can you distinguish of a man
	Than of his outward show; which, God he knows,
	Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart.
	Those uncles which you want were dangerous;
	Your grace attended to their sugar'd words,
	But look'd not on the poison of their hearts :
	God keep you from them, and from such false friends!

PRINCE EDWARD	God keep me from false friends! but they were none.

GLOUCESTER	My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you.

	[Enter the Lord Mayor and his train]

Lord Mayor	God bless your grace with health and happy days!

PRINCE EDWARD	I thank you, good my lord; and thank you all.
	I thought my mother, and my brother York,
	Would long ere this have met us on the way
	Fie, what a slug is Hastings, that he comes not
	To tell us whether they will come or no!

	[Enter HASTINGS]

BUCKINGHAM	And, in good time, here comes the sweating lord.

PRINCE EDWARD	Welcome, my lord: what, will our mother come?

HASTINGS	On what occasion, God he knows, not I,
	The queen your mother, and your brother York,
	Have taken sanctuary: the tender prince
	Would fain have come with me to meet your grace,
	But by his mother was perforce withheld.

BUCKINGHAM	Fie, what an indirect and peevish course
	Is this of hers! Lord cardinal, will your grace
	Persuade the queen to send the Duke of York
	Unto his princely brother presently?
	If she deny, Lord Hastings, go with him,
	And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce.

CARDINAL	My Lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory
	Can from his mother win the Duke of York,
	Anon expect him here; but if she be obdurate
	To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid
	We should infringe the holy privilege
	Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land
	Would I be guilty of so deep a sin.

BUCKINGHAM	You are too senseless--obstinate, my lord,
	Too ceremonious and traditional
	Weigh it but with the grossness of this age,
	You break not sanctuary in seizing him.
	The benefit thereof is always granted
	To those whose dealings have deserved the place,
	And those who have the wit to claim the place:
	This prince hath neither claim'd it nor deserved it;
	And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it:
	Then, taking him from thence that is not there,
	You break no privilege nor charter there.
	Oft have I heard of sanctuary men;
	But sanctuary children ne'er till now.

CARDINAL	My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.
	Come on, Lord Hastings, will you go with me?

HASTINGS	I go, my lord.

PRINCE EDWARD	Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may.

	[Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS]

	Say, uncle Gloucester, if our brother come,
	Where shall we sojourn till our coronation?

GLOUCESTER	Where it seems best unto your royal self.
	If I may counsel you, some day or two
	Your highness shall repose you at the Tower:
	Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit
	For your best health and recreation.

PRINCE EDWARD	I do not like the Tower, of any place.
	Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord?

BUCKINGHAM	He did, my gracious lord, begin that place;
	Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified.

PRINCE EDWARD	Is it upon record, or else reported
	Successively from age to age, he built it?

BUCKINGHAM	Upon record, my gracious lord.

PRINCE EDWARD	But say, my lord, it were not register'd,
	Methinks the truth should live from age to age,
	As 'twere retail'd to all posterity,
	Even to the general all-ending day.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  So wise so young, they say, do never
	live long.

PRINCE EDWARD	What say you, uncle?

GLOUCESTER	I say, without characters, fame lives long.

	[Aside]

	Thus, like the formal vice, Iniquity,
	I moralize two meanings in one word.

PRINCE EDWARD	That Julius Caesar was a famous man;
	With what his valour did enrich his wit,
	His wit set down to make his valour live
	Death makes no conquest of this conqueror;
	For now he lives in fame, though not in life.
	I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,--

BUCKINGHAM	What, my gracious lord?

PRINCE EDWARD	An if I live until I be a man,
	I'll win our ancient right in France again,
	Or die a soldier, as I lived a king.

GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  Short summers lightly have a forward spring.

	[Enter young YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL]

BUCKINGHAM	Now, in good time, here comes the Duke of York.

PRINCE EDWARD	Richard of York! how fares our loving brother?

YORK	Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now.

PRINCE EDWARD	Ay, brother, to our grief, as it is yours:
	Too late he died that might have kept that title,
	Which by his death hath lost much majesty.

GLOUCESTER	How fares our cousin, noble Lord of York?

YORK	I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord,
	You said that idle weeds are fast in growth
	The prince my brother hath outgrown me far.

GLOUCESTER	He hath, my lord.

YORK	                  And therefore is he idle?

GLOUCESTER	O, my fair cousin, I must not say so.

YORK	Then is he more beholding to you than I.

GLOUCESTER	He may command me as my sovereign;
	But you have power in me as in a kinsman.

YORK	I pray you, uncle, give me this dagger.

GLOUCESTER	My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart.

PRINCE EDWARD	A beggar, brother?

YORK	Of my kind uncle, that I know will give;
	And being but a toy, which is no grief to give.

GLOUCESTER	A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin.

YORK	A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it.

GLOUCESTER	A gentle cousin, were it light enough.

YORK	O, then, I see, you will part but with light gifts;
	In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay.

GLOUCESTER	It is too heavy for your grace to wear.

YORK	I weigh it lightly, were it heavier.

GLOUCESTER	What, would you have my weapon, little lord?

YORK	I would, that I might thank you as you call me.

GLOUCESTER	How?

YORK	Little.

PRINCE EDWARD	My Lord of York will still be cross in talk:
	Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him.

YORK	You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me:
	Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me;
	Because that I am little, like an ape,
	He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders.

BUCKINGHAM	With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons!
	To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle,
	He prettily and aptly taunts himself:
	So cunning and so young is wonderful.

GLOUCESTER	My lord, will't please you pass along?
	Myself and my good cousin Buckingham
	Will to your mother, to entreat of her
	To meet you at the Tower and welcome you.

YORK	What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord?

PRINCE EDWARD	My lord protector needs will have it so.

YORK	I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower.

GLOUCESTER	Why, what should you fear?

YORK	Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost:
	My grandam told me he was murdered there.

PRINCE EDWARD	I fear no uncles dead.

GLOUCESTER	Nor none that live, I hope.

PRINCE EDWARD	An if they live, I hope I need not fear.
	But come, my lord; and with a heavy heart,
	Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower.

	[A Sennet. Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM
	and CATESBY]

BUCKINGHAM	Think you, my lord, this little prating York
	Was not incensed by his subtle mother
	To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously?

GLOUCESTER	No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous boy;
	Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable
	He is all the mother's, from the top to toe.

BUCKINGHAM	Well, let them rest. Come hither, Catesby.
	Thou art sworn as deeply to effect what we intend
	As closely to conceal what we impart:
	Thou know'st our reasons urged upon the way;
	What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter
	To make William Lord Hastings of our mind,
	For the instalment of this noble duke
	In the seat royal of this famous isle?

CATESBY	He for his father's sake so loves the prince,
	That he will not be won to aught against him.

BUCKINGHAM	What think'st thou, then, of Stanley? what will he?

CATESBY	He will do all in all as Hastings doth.

BUCKINGHAM	Well, then, no more but this: go, gentle Catesby,
	And, as it were far off sound thou Lord Hastings,
	How doth he stand affected to our purpose;
	And summon him to-morrow to the Tower,
	To sit about the coronation.
	If thou dost find him tractable to us,
	Encourage him, and show him all our reasons:
	If he be leaden, icy-cold, unwilling,
	Be thou so too; and so break off your talk,
	And give us notice of his inclination:
	For we to-morrow hold divided councils,
	Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ'd.

GLOUCESTER	Commend me to Lord William: tell him, Catesby,
	His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries
	To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle;
	And bid my friend, for joy of this good news,
	Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more.

BUCKINGHAM	Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly.

CATESBY	My good lords both, with all the heed I may.

GLOUCESTER	Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep?

CATESBY	You shall, my lord.

GLOUCESTER	At Crosby Place, there shall you find us both.

	[Exit CATESBY]

BUCKINGHAM	Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive
	Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots?

GLOUCESTER	Chop off his head, man; somewhat we will do:
	And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me
	The earldom of Hereford, and the moveables
	Whereof the king my brother stood possess'd.

BUCKINGHAM	I'll claim that promise at your grace's hands.

GLOUCESTER	And look to have it yielded with all willingness.
	Come, let us sup betimes, that afterwards
	We may digest our complots in some form.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE II	Before Lord Hastings' house.


	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	What, ho! my lord!

HASTINGS	[Within]  Who knocks at the door?

Messenger	A messenger from the Lord Stanley.

	[Enter HASTINGS]

HASTINGS	What is't o'clock?

Messenger	Upon the stroke of four.

HASTINGS	Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights?

Messenger	So it should seem by that I have to say.
	First, he commends him to your noble lordship.

HASTINGS	And then?

Messenger	And then he sends you word
	He dreamt to-night the boar had razed his helm:
	Besides, he says there are two councils held;
	And that may be determined at the one
	which may make you and him to rue at the other.
	Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure,
	If presently you will take horse with him,
	And with all speed post with him toward the north,
	To shun the danger that his soul divines.

HASTINGS	Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord;
	Bid him not fear the separated councils
	His honour and myself are at the one,
	And at the other is my servant Catesby
	Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us
	Whereof I shall not have intelligence.
	Tell him his fears are shallow, wanting instance:
	And for his dreams, I wonder he is so fond
	To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers
	To fly the boar before the boar pursues,
	Were to incense the boar to follow us
	And make pursuit where he did mean no chase.
	Go, bid thy master rise and come to me
	And we will both together to the Tower,
	Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly.

Messenger	My gracious lord, I'll tell him what you say.

	[Exit]

	[Enter CATESBY]

CATESBY	Many good morrows to my noble lord!

HASTINGS	Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring
	What news, what news, in this our tottering state?

CATESBY	It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord;
	And I believe twill never stand upright
	Tim Richard wear the garland of the realm.

HASTINGS	How! wear the garland! dost thou mean the crown?

CATESBY	Ay, my good lord.

HASTINGS	I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders
	Ere I will see the crown so foul misplaced.
	But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it?

CATESBY	Ay, on my life; and hopes to find forward
	Upon his party for the gain thereof:
	And thereupon he sends you this good news,
	That this same very day your enemies,
	The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret.

HASTINGS	Indeed, I am no mourner for that news,
	Because they have been still mine enemies:
	But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side,
	To bar my master's heirs in true descent,
	God knows I will not do it, to the death.

CATESBY	God keep your lordship in that gracious mind!

HASTINGS	But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence,
	That they who brought me in my master's hate
	I live to look upon their tragedy.
	I tell thee, Catesby--

CATESBY	What, my lord?

HASTINGS	Ere a fortnight make me elder,
	I'll send some packing that yet think not on it.

CATESBY	'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord,
	When men are unprepared and look not for it.

HASTINGS	O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out
	With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do
	With some men else, who think themselves as safe
	As thou and I; who, as thou know'st, are dear
	To princely Richard and to Buckingham.

CATESBY	The princes both make high account of you;

	[Aside]

	For they account his head upon the bridge.

HASTINGS	I know they do; and I have well deserved it.

	[Enter STANLEY]

	Come on, come on; where is your boar-spear, man?
	Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided?

STANLEY	My lord, good morrow; good morrow, Catesby:
	You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,
	I do not like these several councils, I.

HASTINGS	My lord,
	I hold my life as dear as you do yours;
	And never in my life, I do protest,
	Was it more precious to me than 'tis now:
	Think you, but that I know our state secure,
	I would be so triumphant as I am?

STANLEY	The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London,
	Were jocund, and supposed their state was sure,
	And they indeed had no cause to mistrust;
	But yet, you see how soon the day o'ercast.
	This sudden stag of rancour I misdoubt:
	Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward!
	What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent.

HASTINGS	Come, come, have with you. Wot you what, my lord?
	To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded.

LORD STANLEY	They, for their truth, might better wear their heads
	Than some that have accused them wear their hats.
	But come, my lord, let us away.

	[Enter a Pursuivant]

HASTINGS	Go on before; I'll talk with this good fellow.

	[Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY]

	How now, sirrah! how goes the world with thee?

Pursuivant	The better that your lordship please to ask.

HASTINGS	I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now
	Than when I met thee last where now we meet:
	Then was I going prisoner to the Tower,
	By the suggestion of the queen's allies;
	But now, I tell thee--keep it to thyself--
	This day those enemies are put to death,
	And I in better state than e'er I was.

Pursuivant	God hold it, to your honour's good content!

HASTINGS	Gramercy, fellow: there, drink that for me.

	[Throws him his purse]

Pursuivant	God save your lordship!

	[Exit]

	[Enter a Priest]

Priest	Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour.

HASTINGS	I thank thee, good Sir John, with all my heart.
	I am in your debt for your last exercise;
	Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you.

	[He whispers in his ear]

	[Enter BUCKINGHAM]

BUCKINGHAM	What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain?
	Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest;
	Your honour hath no shriving work in hand.

HASTINGS	Good faith, and when I met this holy man,
	Those men you talk of came into my mind.
	What, go you toward the Tower?

BUCKINGHAM	I do, my lord; but long I shall not stay
	I shall return before your lordship thence.

HASTINGS	'Tis like enough, for I stay dinner there.

BUCKINGHAM	[Aside]  And supper too, although thou know'st it not.
	Come, will you go?

HASTINGS	I'll wait upon your lordship.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE III	Pomfret Castle.


	[Enter RATCLIFF, with halberds, carrying RIVERS,
	GREY, and VAUGHAN to death]

RATCLIFF	Come, bring forth the prisoners.

RIVERS	Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee this:
	To-day shalt thou behold a subject die
	For truth, for duty, and for loyalty.

GREY	God keep the prince from all the pack of you!
	A knot you are of damned blood-suckers!

VAUGHAN	You live that shall cry woe for this after.

RATCLIFF	Dispatch; the limit of your lives is out.

RIVERS	O Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison,
	Fatal and ominous to noble peers!
	Within the guilty closure of thy walls
	Richard the second here was hack'd to death;
	And, for more slander to thy dismal seat,
	We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink.

GREY	Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads,
	For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son.

RIVERS	Then cursed she Hastings, then cursed she Buckingham,
	Then cursed she Richard. O, remember, God
	To hear her prayers for them, as now for us
	And for my sister and her princely sons,
	Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood,
	Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt.

RATCLIFF	Make haste; the hour of death is expiate.

RIVERS	Come, Grey, come, Vaughan, let us all embrace:
	And take our leave, until we meet in heaven.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE IV	The Tower of London.


	[Enter BUCKINGHAM, DERBY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP OF
	ELY, RATCLIFF, LOVEL, with others, and take their
	seats at a table]

HASTINGS	My lords, at once: the cause why we are met
	Is, to determine of the coronation.
	In God's name, speak: when is the royal day?

BUCKINGHAM	Are all things fitting for that royal time?

DERBY	It is, and wants but nomination.

BISHOP OF ELY	To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day.

BUCKINGHAM	Who knows the lord protector's mind herein?
	Who is most inward with the royal duke?

BISHOP OF ELY	Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind.

BUCKINGHAM	Who, I, my lord I we know each other's faces,
	But for our hearts, he knows no more of mine,
	Than I of yours;
	Nor I no more of his, than you of mine.
	Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love.

HASTINGS	I thank his grace, I know he loves me well;
	But, for his purpose in the coronation.
	I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd
	His gracious pleasure any way therein:
	But you, my noble lords, may name the time;
	And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice,
	Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER]

BISHOP OF ELY	Now in good time, here comes the duke himself.

GLOUCESTER	My noble lords and cousins all, good morrow.
	I have been long a sleeper; but, I hope,
	My absence doth neglect no great designs,
	Which by my presence might have been concluded.

BUCKINGHAM	Had not you come upon your cue, my lord
	William Lord Hastings had pronounced your part,--
	I mean, your voice,--for crowning of the king.

GLOUCESTER	Than my Lord Hastings no man might be bolder;
	His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.

HASTINGS	I thank your grace.

GLOUCESTER	My lord of Ely!

BISHOP OF ELY	My lord?

GLOUCESTER	When I was last in Holborn,
	I saw good strawberries in your garden there
	I do beseech you send for some of them.

BISHOP OF ELY	Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart.

	[Exit]

GLOUCESTER	Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you.

	[Drawing him aside]

	Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business,
	And finds the testy gentleman so hot,
	As he will lose his head ere give consent
	His master's son, as worshipful as he terms it,
	Shall lose the royalty of England's throne.

BUCKINGHAM	Withdraw you hence, my lord, I'll follow you.

	[Exit GLOUCESTER, BUCKINGHAM following]

DERBY	We have not yet set down this day of triumph.
	To-morrow, in mine opinion, is too sudden;
	For I myself am not so well provided
	As else I would be, were the day prolong'd.

	[Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY]

BISHOP OF ELY	Where is my lord protector? I have sent for these
	strawberries.

HASTINGS	His grace looks cheerfully and smooth to-day;
	There's some conceit or other likes him well,
	When he doth bid good morrow with such a spirit.
	I think there's never a man in Christendom
	That can less hide his love or hate than he;
	For by his face straight shall you know his heart.

DERBY	What of his heart perceive you in his face
	By any likelihood he show'd to-day?

HASTINGS	Marry, that with no man here he is offended;
	For, were he, he had shown it in his looks.

DERBY	I pray God he be not, I say.

	[Re-enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM]

GLOUCESTER	I pray you all, tell me what they deserve
	That do conspire my death with devilish plots
	Of damned witchcraft, and that have prevail'd
	Upon my body with their hellish charms?

HASTINGS	The tender love I bear your grace, my lord,
	Makes me most forward in this noble presence
	To doom the offenders, whatsoever they be
	I say, my lord, they have deserved death.

GLOUCESTER	Then be your eyes the witness of this ill:
	See how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm
	Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up:
	And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch,
	Consorted with that harlot strumpet Shore,
	That by their witchcraft thus have marked me.

HASTINGS	If they have done this thing, my gracious lord--

GLOUCESTER	If I thou protector of this damned strumpet--
	Tellest thou me of 'ifs'?  Thou art a traitor:
	Off with his head! Now, by Saint Paul I swear,
	I will not dine until I see the same.
	Lovel and Ratcliff, look that it be done:
	The rest, that love me, rise and follow me.

	[Exeunt all but HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and LOVEL]

HASTINGS	Woe, woe for England! not a whit for me;
	For I, too fond, might have prevented this.
	Stanley did dream the boar did raze his helm;
	But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly:
	Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble,
	And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower,
	As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house.
	O, now I want the priest that spake to me:
	I now repent I told the pursuivant
	As 'twere triumphing at mine enemies,
	How they at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd,
	And I myself secure in grace and favour.
	O Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse
	Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head!

RATCLIFF	Dispatch, my lord; the duke would be at dinner:
	Make a short shrift; he longs to see your head.

HASTINGS	O momentary grace of mortal men,
	Which we more hunt for than the grace of God!
	Who builds his hopes in air of your good looks,
	Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast,
	Ready, with every nod, to tumble down
	Into the fatal bowels of the deep.

LOVEL	Come, come, dispatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim.

HASTINGS	O bloody Richard! miserable England!
	I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee
	That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.
	Come, lead me to the block; bear him my head.
	They smile at me that shortly shall be dead.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE V	The Tower-walls.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, in rotten armour,
	marvellous ill-favoured]

GLOUCESTER	Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour,
	Murder thy breath in the middle of a word,
	And then begin again, and stop again,
	As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror?

BUCKINGHAM	Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian;
	Speak and look back, and pry on every side,
	Tremble and start at wagging of a straw,
	Intending deep suspicion: ghastly looks
	Are at my service, like enforced smiles;
	And both are ready in their offices,
	At any time, to grace my stratagems.
	But what, is Catesby gone?

GLOUCESTER	He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along.

	[Enter the Lord Mayor and CATESBY]

BUCKINGHAM	Lord mayor,--

GLOUCESTER	Look to the drawbridge there!

BUCKINGHAM	Hark! a drum.

GLOUCESTER	Catesby, o'erlook the walls.

BUCKINGHAM	Lord mayor, the reason we have sent--

GLOUCESTER	Look back, defend thee, here are enemies.

BUCKINGHAM	God and our innocency defend and guard us!

GLOUCESTER	Be patient, they are friends, Ratcliff and Lovel.

	[Enter LOVEL and RATCLIFF, with HASTINGS' head]

LOVEL	Here is the head of that ignoble traitor,
	The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings.

GLOUCESTER	So dear I loved the man, that I must weep.
	I took him for the plainest harmless creature
	That breathed upon this earth a Christian;
	Made him my book wherein my soul recorded
	The history of all her secret thoughts:
	So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue,
	That, his apparent open guilt omitted,
	I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife,
	He lived from all attainder of suspect.

BUCKINGHAM	Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor
	That ever lived.
	Would you imagine, or almost believe,
	Were't not that, by great preservation,
	We live to tell it you, the subtle traitor
	This day had plotted, in the council-house
	To murder me and my good Lord of Gloucester?

Lord Mayor	What, had he so?

GLOUCESTER	What, think You we are Turks or infidels?
	Or that we would, against the form of law,
	Proceed thus rashly to the villain's death,
	But that the extreme peril of the case,
	The peace of England and our persons' safety,
	Enforced us to this execution?

Lord Mayor	Now, fair befall you! he deserved his death;
	And you my good lords, both have well proceeded,
	To warn false traitors from the like attempts.
	I never look'd for better at his hands,
	After he once fell in with Mistress Shore.

GLOUCESTER	Yet had not we determined he should die,
	Until your lordship came to see his death;
	Which now the loving haste of these our friends,
	Somewhat against our meaning, have prevented:
	Because, my lord, we would have had you heard
	The traitor speak, and timorously confess
	The manner and the purpose of his treason;
	That you might well have signified the same
	Unto the citizens, who haply may
	Misconstrue us in him and wail his death.

Lord Mayor	But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve,
	As well as I had seen and heard him speak
	And doubt you not, right noble princes both,
	But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens
	With all your just proceedings in this cause.

GLOUCESTER	And to that end we wish'd your lord-ship here,
	To avoid the carping censures of the world.

BUCKINGHAM	But since you come too late of our intents,
	Yet witness what you hear we did intend:
	And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell.

	[Exit Lord Mayor]

GLOUCESTER	Go, after, after, cousin Buckingham.
	The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post:
	There, at your meet'st advantage of the time,
	Infer the bastardy of Edward's children:
	Tell them how Edward put to death a citizen,
	Only for saying he would make his son
	Heir to the crown; meaning indeed his house,
	Which, by the sign thereof was termed so.
	Moreover, urge his hateful luxury
	And bestial appetite in change of lust;
	Which stretched to their servants, daughters, wives,
	Even where his lustful eye or savage heart,
	Without control, listed to make his prey.
	Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person:
	Tell them, when that my mother went with child
	Of that unsatiate Edward, noble York
	My princely father then had wars in France
	And, by just computation of the time,
	Found that the issue was not his begot;
	Which well appeared in his lineaments,
	Being nothing like the noble duke my father:
	But touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off,
	Because you know, my lord, my mother lives.

BUCKINGHAM	Fear not, my lord, I'll play the orator
	As if the golden fee for which I plead
	Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu.

GLOUCESTER	If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's Castle;
	Where you shall find me well accompanied
	With reverend fathers and well-learned bishops.

BUCKINGHAM	I go: and towards three or four o'clock
	Look for the news that the Guildhall affords.

	[Exit BUCKINGHAM]

GLOUCESTER	Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor Shaw;

	[To CATESBY]

	Go thou to Friar Penker; bid them both
	Meet me within this hour at Baynard's Castle.

	[Exeunt all but GLOUCESTER]

	Now will I in, to take some privy order,
	To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight;
	And to give notice, that no manner of person
	At any time have recourse unto the princes.

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE VI	The same.


	[Enter a Scrivener, with a paper in his hand]

Scrivener	This is the indictment of the good Lord Hastings;
	Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd,
	That it may be this day read over in Paul's.
	And mark how well the sequel hangs together:
	Eleven hours I spent to write it over,
	For yesternight by Catesby was it brought me;
	The precedent was full as long a-doing:
	And yet within these five hours lived Lord Hastings,
	Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty
	Here's a good world the while! Why who's so gross,
	That seeth not this palpable device?
	Yet who's so blind, but says he sees it not?
	Bad is the world; and all will come to nought,
	When such bad dealings must be seen in thought.

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT III



SCENE VII	Baynard's Castle.


	[Enter GLOUCESTER and BUCKINGHAM, at several doors]

GLOUCESTER	How now, my lord, what say the citizens?

BUCKINGHAM	Now, by the holy mother of our Lord,
	The citizens are mum and speak not a word.

GLOUCESTER	Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's children?

BUCKINGHAM	I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy,
	And his contract by deputy in France;
	The insatiate greediness of his desires,
	And his enforcement of the city wives;
	His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,
	As being got, your father then in France,
	His resemblance, being not like the duke;
	Withal I did infer your lineaments,
	Being the right idea of your father,
	Both in your form and nobleness of mind;
	Laid open all your victories in Scotland,
	Your dicipline in war, wisdom in peace,
	Your bounty, virtue, fair humility:
	Indeed, left nothing fitting for the purpose
	Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse
	And when mine oratory grew to an end
	I bid them that did love their country's good
	Cry 'God save Richard, England's royal king!'

GLOUCESTER	Ah! and did they so?

BUCKINGHAM	No, so God help me, they spake not a word;
	But, like dumb statues or breathing stones,
	Gazed each on other, and look'd deadly pale.
	Which when I saw, I reprehended them;
	And ask'd the mayor what meant this wilful silence:
	His answer was, the people were not wont
	To be spoke to but by the recorder.
	Then he was urged to tell my tale again,
	'Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferr'd;'
	But nothing spake in warrant from himself.
	When he had done, some followers of mine own,
	At the lower end of the hall, hurl'd up their caps,
	And some ten voices cried 'God save King Richard!'
	And thus I took the vantage of those few,
	'Thanks, gentle citizens and friends,' quoth I;
	'This general applause and loving shout
	Argues your wisdoms and your love to Richard:'
	And even here brake off, and came away.

GLOUCESTER	What tongueless blocks were they! would not they speak?

BUCKINGHAM	No, by my troth, my lord.

GLOUCESTER	Will not the mayor then and his brethren come?

BUCKINGHAM	The mayor is here at hand: intend some fear;
	Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit:
	And look you get a prayer-book in your hand,
	And stand betwixt two churchmen, good my lord;
	For on that ground I'll build a holy descant:
	And be not easily won to our request:
	Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it.

GLOUCESTER	I go; and if you plead as well for them
	As I can say nay to thee for myself,
	No doubt well bring it to a happy issue.

BUCKINGHAM	Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks.

	[Exit GLOUCESTER]

	[Enter the Lord Mayor and Citizens]

	Welcome my lord; I dance attendance here;
	I think the duke will not be spoke withal.

	[Enter CATESBY]

	Here comes his servant: how now, Catesby,
	What says he?

CATESBY	             My lord: he doth entreat your grace;
	To visit him to-morrow or next day:
	He is within, with two right reverend fathers,
	Divinely bent to meditation;
	And no worldly suit would he be moved,
	To draw him from his holy exercise.

BUCKINGHAM	Return, good Catesby, to thy lord again;
	Tell him, myself, the mayor and citizens,
	In deep designs and matters of great moment,
	No less importing than our general good,
	Are come to have some conference with his grace.

CATESBY	I'll tell him what you say, my lord.

	[Exit]

BUCKINGHAM	Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward!
	He is not lolling on a lewd day-bed,
	But on his knees at meditation;
	Not dallying with a brace of courtezans,
	But meditating with two deep divines;
	Not sleeping, to engross his idle body,
	But praying, to enrich his watchful soul:
	Happy were England, would this gracious prince
	Take on himself the sovereignty thereof:
	But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it.

Lord Mayor	Marry, God forbid his grace should say us nay!

BUCKINGHAM	I fear he will.

	[Re-enter CATESBY]

	How now, Catesby, what says your lord?

CATESBY	My lord,
	He wonders to what end you have assembled
	Such troops of citizens to speak with him,
	His grace not being warn'd thereof before:
	My lord, he fears you mean no good to him.

BUCKINGHAM	Sorry I am my noble cousin should
	Suspect me, that I mean no good to him:
	By heaven, I come in perfect love to him;
	And so once more return and tell his grace.

	[Exit CATESBY]

	When holy and devout religious men
	Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence,
	So sweet is zealous contemplation.

	[Enter GLOUCESTER aloft, between two Bishops.
	CATESBY returns]

Lord Mayor	See, where he stands between two clergymen!

BUCKINGHAM	Two props of virtue for a Christian prince,
	To stay him from the fall of vanity:
	And, see, a book of prayer in his hand,
	True ornaments to know a holy man.
	Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince,
	Lend favourable ears to our request;
	And pardon us the interruption
	Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal.

GLOUCESTER	My lord, there needs no such apology:
	I rather do beseech you pardon me,
	Who, earnest in the service of my God,
	Neglect the visitation of my friends.
	But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure?

BUCKINGHAM	Even that, I hope, which pleaseth God above,
	And all good men of this ungovern'd isle.

GLOUCESTER	I do suspect I have done some offence
	That seems disgracious in the city's eyes,
	And that you come to reprehend my ignorance.

BUCKINGHAM	You have, my lord: would it might please your grace,
	At our entreaties, to amend that fault!

GLOUCESTER	Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land?

BUCKINGHAM	Then know, it is your fault that you resign
	The supreme seat, the throne majestical,
	The scepter'd office of your ancestors,
	Your state of fortune and your due of birth,
	The lineal glory of your royal house,
	To the corruption of a blemished stock:
	Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts,
	Which here we waken to our country's good,
	This noble isle doth want her proper limbs;
	Her face defaced with scars of infamy,
	Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants,
	And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf
	Of blind forgetfulness and dark oblivion.
	Which to recure, we heartily solicit
	Your gracious self to take on you the charge
	And kingly government of this your land,
	Not as protector, steward, substitute,
	Or lowly factor for another's gain;
	But as successively from blood to blood,
	Your right of birth, your empery, your own.
	For this, consorted with the citizens,
	Your very worshipful and loving friends,
	And by their vehement instigation,
	In this just suit come I to move your grace.

GLOUCESTER	I know not whether to depart in silence,
	Or bitterly to speak in your reproof.
	Best fitteth my degree or your condition
	If not to answer, you might haply think
	Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded
	To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty,
	Which fondly you would here impose on me;
	If to reprove you for this suit of yours,
	So season'd with your faithful love to me.
	Then, on the other side, I cheque'd my friends.
	Therefore, to speak, and to avoid the first,
	And then, in speaking, not to incur the last,
	Definitively thus I answer you.
	Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert
	Unmeritable shuns your high request.
	First if all obstacles were cut away,
	And that my path were even to the crown,
	As my ripe revenue and due by birth
	Yet so much is my poverty of spirit,
	So mighty and so many my defects,
	As I had rather hide me from my greatness,
	Being a bark to brook no mighty sea,
	Than in my greatness covet to be hid,
	And in the vapour of my glory smother'd.
	But, God be thank'd, there's no need of me,
	And much I need to help you, if need were;
	The royal tree hath left us royal fruit,
	Which, mellow'd by the stealing hours of time,
	Will well become the seat of majesty,
	And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign.
	On him I lay what you would lay on me,
	The right and fortune of his happy stars;
	Which God defend that I should wring from him!

BUCKINGHAM	My lord, this argues conscience in your grace;
	But the respects thereof are nice and trivial,
	All circumstances well considered.
	You say that Edward is your brother's son:
	So say we too, but not by Edward's wife;
	For first he was contract to Lady Lucy--
	Your mother lives a witness to that vow--
	And afterward by substitute betroth'd
	To Bona, sister to the King of France.
	These both put by a poor petitioner,
	A care-crazed mother of a many children,
	A beauty-waning and distressed widow,
	Even in the afternoon of her best days,
	Made prize and purchase of his lustful eye,
	Seduced the pitch and height of all his thoughts
	To base declension and loathed bigamy
	By her, in his unlawful bed, he got
	This Edward, whom our manners term the prince.
	More bitterly could I expostulate,
	Save that, for reverence to some alive,
	I give a sparing limit to my tongue.
	Then, good my lord, take to your royal self
	This proffer'd benefit of dignity;
	If non to bless us and the land withal,
	Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry
	From the corruption of abusing times,
	Unto a lineal true-derived course.

Lord Mayor	Do, good my lord, your citizens entreat you.

BUCKINGHAM	Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love.

CATESBY	O, make them joyful, grant their lawful suit!

GLOUCESTER	Alas, why would you heap these cares on me?
	I am unfit for state and majesty;
	I do beseech you, take it not amiss;
	I cannot nor I will not yield to you.

BUCKINGHAM	If you refuse it,--as, in love and zeal,
	Loath to depose the child, Your brother's son;
	As well we know your tenderness of heart
	And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,
	Which we have noted in you to your kin,
	And egally indeed to all estates,--
	Yet whether you accept our suit or no,
	Your brother's son shall never reign our king;
	But we will plant some other in the throne,
	To the disgrace and downfall of your house:
	And in this resolution here we leave you.--
	Come, citizens: 'zounds! I'll entreat no more.

GLOUCESTER	O, do not swear, my lord of Buckingham.

	[Exit BUCKINGHAM with the Citizens]

CATESBY	Call them again, my lord, and accept their suit.

ANOTHER	Do, good my lord, lest all the land do rue it.

GLOUCESTER	Would you enforce me to a world of care?
	Well, call them again. I am not made of stone,
	But penetrable to your. kind entreats,
	Albeit against my conscience and my soul.

	[Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest]

	Cousin of Buckingham, and you sage, grave men,
	Since you will buckle fortune on my back,
	To bear her burthen, whether I will or no,
	I must have patience to endure the load:
	But if black scandal or foul-faced reproach
	Attend the sequel of your imposition,
	Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me
	From all the impure blots and stains thereof;
	For God he knows, and you may partly see,
	How far I am from the desire thereof.

Lord Mayor	God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it.

GLOUCESTER	In saying so, you shall but say the truth.

BUCKINGHAM	Then I salute you with this kingly title:
	Long live Richard, England's royal king!


Lord Mayor	|
	|  Amen.
Citizens	|


BUCKINGHAM	To-morrow will it please you to be crown'd?

GLOUCESTER	Even when you please, since you will have it so.

BUCKINGHAM	To-morrow, then, we will attend your grace:
	And so most joyfully we take our leave.

GLOUCESTER	Come, let us to our holy task again.
	Farewell, good cousin; farewell, gentle friends.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE I	Before the Tower.


	[Enter, on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF
	YORK, and DORSET; on the other, ANNE, Duchess of
	Gloucester, leading Lady Margaret Plantagenet,
	CLARENCE's young Daughter]

DUCHESS OF YORK	Who meets us here?  my niece Plantagenet
	Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloucester?
	Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower,
	On pure heart's love to greet the tender princes.
	Daughter, well met.

LADY ANNE	God give your graces both
	A happy and a joyful time of day!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	As much to you, good sister! Whither away?

LADY ANNE	No farther than the Tower; and, as I guess,
	Upon the like devotion as yourselves,
	To gratulate the gentle princes there.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Kind sister, thanks: we'll enter all together.

	[Enter BRAKENBURY]

	And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.
	Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave,
	How doth the prince, and my young son of York?

BRAKENBURY	Right well, dear madam. By your patience,
	I may not suffer you to visit them;
	The king hath straitly charged the contrary.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	The king! why, who's that?

BRAKENBURY	I cry you mercy: I mean the lord protector.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	The Lord protect him from that kingly title!
	Hath he set bounds betwixt their love and me?
	I am their mother; who should keep me from them?

DUCHESS OF YORK	I am their fathers mother; I will see them.

LADY ANNE	Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother:
	Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame
	And take thy office from thee, on my peril.

BRAKENBURY	No, madam, no; I may not leave it so:
	I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me.

	[Exit]

	[Enter LORD STANLEY]

LORD STANLEY	Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence,
	And I'll salute your grace of York as mother,
	And reverend looker on, of two fair queens.

	[To LADY ANNE]

	Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster,
	There to be crowned Richard's royal queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	O, cut my lace in sunder, that my pent heart
	May have some scope to beat, or else I swoon
	With this dead-killing news!

LADY ANNE	Despiteful tidings! O unpleasing news!

DORSET	Be of good cheer: mother, how fares your grace?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	O Dorset, speak not to me, get thee hence!
	Death and destruction dog thee at the heels;
	Thy mother's name is ominous to children.
	If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas,
	And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell
	Go, hie thee, hie thee from this slaughter-house,
	Lest thou increase the number of the dead;
	And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,
	Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen.

LORD STANLEY	Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam.
	Take all the swift advantage of the hours;
	You shall have letters from me to my son
	To meet you on the way, and welcome you.
	Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay.

DUCHESS OF YORK	O ill-dispersing wind of misery!
	O my accursed womb, the bed of death!
	A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world,
	Whose unavoided eye is murderous.

LORD STANLEY	Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent.

LADY ANNE	And I in all unwillingness will go.
	I would to God that the inclusive verge
	Of golden metal that must round my brow
	Were red-hot steel, to sear me to the brain!
	Anointed let me be with deadly venom,
	And die, ere men can say, God save the queen!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory
	To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm.

LADY ANNE	No! why?  When he that is my husband now
	Came to me, as I follow'd Henry's corse,
	When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands
	Which issued from my other angel husband
	And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd;
	O, when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face,
	This was my wish: 'Be thou,' quoth I, ' accursed,
	For making me, so young, so old a widow!
	And, when thou wed'st, let sorrow haunt thy bed;
	And be thy wife--if any be so mad--
	As miserable by the life of thee
	As thou hast made me by my dear lord's death!
	Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again,
	Even in so short a space, my woman's heart
	Grossly grew captive to his honey words
	And proved the subject of my own soul's curse,
	Which ever since hath kept my eyes from rest;
	For never yet one hour in his bed
	Have I enjoy'd the golden dew of sleep,
	But have been waked by his timorous dreams.
	Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick;
	And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Poor heart, adieu! I pity thy complaining.

LADY ANNE	No more than from my soul I mourn for yours.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory!

LADY ANNE	Adieu, poor soul, that takest thy leave of it!

DUCHESS OF YORK	[To DORSET]

	Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!

	[To LADY ANNE]

	Go thou to Richard, and good angels guard thee!

	[To QUEEN ELIZABETH]

	Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!
	I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me!
	Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen,
	And each hour's joy wrecked with a week of teen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Stay, yet look back with me unto the Tower.
	Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes
	Whom envy hath immured within your walls!
	Rough cradle for such little pretty ones!
	Rude ragged nurse, old sullen playfellow
	For tender princes, use my babies well!
	So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE II	London. The palace.


	[Sennet. Enter KING RICHARD III, in pomp, crowned;
	BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a page, and others]

KING RICHARD III	Stand all apart Cousin of Buckingham!

BUCKINGHAM	My gracious sovereign?

KING RICHARD III	Give me thy hand.

	[Here he ascendeth his throne]

	Thus high, by thy advice
	And thy assistance, is King Richard seated;
	But shall we wear these honours for a day?
	Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them?

BUCKINGHAM	Still live they and for ever may they last!

KING RICHARD III	O Buckingham, now do I play the touch,
	To try if thou be current gold indeed
	Young Edward lives: think now what I would say.

BUCKINGHAM	Say on, my loving lord.

KING RICHARD III	Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king,

BUCKINGHAM	Why, so you are, my thrice renowned liege.

KING RICHARD III	Ha! am I king? 'tis so: but Edward lives.

BUCKINGHAM	True, noble prince.

KING RICHARD III	O bitter consequence,
	That Edward still should live! 'True, noble prince!'
	Cousin, thou wert not wont to be so dull:
	Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead;
	And I would have it suddenly perform'd.
	What sayest thou? speak suddenly; be brief.

BUCKINGHAM	Your grace may do your pleasure.

KING RICHARD III	Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezeth:
	Say, have I thy consent that they shall die?

BUCKINGHAM	Give me some breath, some little pause, my lord
	Before I positively herein:
	I will resolve your grace immediately.

	[Exit]

CATESBY	[Aside to a stander by]

	The king is angry: see, he bites the lip.

KING RICHARD III	I will converse with iron-witted fools
	And unrespective boys: none are for me
	That look into me with considerate eyes:
	High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect.
	Boy!

Page	My lord?

KING RICHARD III	Know'st thou not any whom corrupting gold
	Would tempt unto a close exploit of death?

Page	My lord, I know a discontented gentleman,
	Whose humble means match not his haughty mind:
	Gold were as good as twenty orators,
	And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing.

KING RICHARD III	What is his name?

Page	                His name, my lord, is Tyrrel.

KING RICHARD III	I partly know the man: go, call him hither.

	[Exit Page]

	The deep-revolving witty Buckingham
	No more shall be the neighbour to my counsel:
	Hath he so long held out with me untired,
	And stops he now for breath?

	[Enter STANLEY]

	How now! what news with you?

STANLEY	My lord, I hear the Marquis Dorset's fled
	To Richmond, in those parts beyond the sea
	Where he abides.

	[Stands apart]

KING RICHARD III	Catesby!

CATESBY	       My lord?

KING RICHARD III	                         Rumour it abroad
	That Anne, my wife, is sick and like to die:
	I will take order for her keeping close.
	Inquire me out some mean-born gentleman,
	Whom I will marry straight to Clarence' daughter:
	The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.
	Look, how thou dream'st! I say again, give out
	That Anne my wife is sick and like to die:
	About it; for it stands me much upon,
	To stop all hopes whose growth may damage me.

	[Exit CATESBY]

	I must be married to my brother's daughter,
	Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass.
	Murder her brothers, and then marry her!
	Uncertain way of gain! But I am in
	So far in blood that sin will pluck on sin:
	Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye.

	[Re-enter Page, with TYRREL]

	Is thy name Tyrrel?

TYRREL	James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject.

KING RICHARD III	Art thou, indeed?

TYRREL	           Prove me, my gracious sovereign.

KING RICHARD III	Darest thou resolve to kill a friend of mine?

TYRREL	Ay, my lord;
	But I had rather kill two enemies.

KING RICHARD III	Why, there thou hast it: two deep enemies,
	Foes to my rest and my sweet sleep's disturbers
	Are they that I would have thee deal upon:
	Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower.

TYRREL	Let me have open means to come to them,
	And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them.

KING RICHARD III	Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel
	Go, by this token: rise, and lend thine ear:

	[Whispers]

	There is no more but so: say it is done,
	And I will love thee, and prefer thee too.

TYRREL	'Tis done, my gracious lord.

KING RICHARD III	Shall we hear from thee, Tyrrel, ere we sleep?

TYRREL	Ye shall, my Lord.

	[Exit]

	[Re-enter BUCKINGHAM]

BUCKINGHAM	My Lord, I have consider'd in my mind
	The late demand that you did sound me in.

KING RICHARD III	Well, let that pass. Dorset is fled to Richmond.

BUCKINGHAM	I hear that news, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	Stanley, he is your wife's son well, look to it.

BUCKINGHAM	My lord, I claim your gift, my due by promise,
	For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd;
	The earldom of Hereford and the moveables
	The which you promised I should possess.

KING RICHARD III	Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey
	Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it.

BUCKINGHAM	What says your highness to my just demand?

KING RICHARD III	As I remember, Henry the Sixth
	Did prophesy that Richmond should be king,
	When Richmond was a little peevish boy.
	A king, perhaps, perhaps,--

BUCKINGHAM	My lord!

KING RICHARD III	How chance the prophet could not at that time
	Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him?

BUCKINGHAM	My lord, your promise for the earldom,--

KING RICHARD III	Richmond! When last I was at Exeter,
	The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle,
	And call'd it Rougemont: at which name I started,
	Because a bard of Ireland told me once
	I should not live long after I saw Richmond.

BUCKINGHAM	My Lord!

KING RICHARD III	       Ay, what's o'clock?

BUCKINGHAM	I am thus bold to put your grace in mind
	Of what you promised me.

KING RICHARD III	Well, but what's o'clock?

BUCKINGHAM	Upon the stroke of ten.

KING RICHARD III	Well, let it strike.

BUCKINGHAM	Why let it strike?

KING RICHARD III	Because that, like a Jack, thou keep'st the stroke
	Betwixt thy begging and my meditation.
	I am not in the giving vein to-day.

BUCKINGHAM	Why, then resolve me whether you will or no.

KING RICHARD III	Tut, tut,
	Thou troublest me; am not in the vein.

	[Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM]

BUCKINGHAM	Is it even so? rewards he my true service
	With such deep contempt made I him king for this?
	O, let me think on Hastings, and be gone
	To Brecknock, while my fearful head is on!

	[Exit]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE III	The same.


	[Enter TYRREL]

TYRREL	The tyrannous and bloody deed is done.
	The most arch of piteous massacre
	That ever yet this land was guilty of.
	Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn
	To do this ruthless piece of butchery,
	Although they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs,
	Melting with tenderness and kind compassion
	Wept like two children in their deaths' sad stories.
	'Lo, thus' quoth Dighton, 'lay those tender babes:'
	'Thus, thus,' quoth Forrest, 'girdling one another
	Within their innocent alabaster arms:
	Their lips were four red roses on a stalk,
	Which in their summer beauty kiss'd each other.
	A book of prayers on their pillow lay;
	Which once,' quoth Forrest, 'almost changed my mind;
	But O! the devil'--there the villain stopp'd
	Whilst Dighton thus told on: 'We smothered
	The most replenished sweet work of nature,
	That from the prime creation e'er she framed.'
	Thus both are gone with conscience and remorse;
	They could not speak; and so I left them both,
	To bring this tidings to the bloody king.
	And here he comes.

	[Enter KING RICHARD III]

	All hail, my sovereign liege!

KING RICHARD III	Kind Tyrrel, am I happy in thy news?

TYRREL	If to have done the thing you gave in charge
	Beget your happiness, be happy then,
	For it is done, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	But didst thou see them dead?

TYRREL	I did, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	                 And buried, gentle Tyrrel?

TYRREL	The chaplain of the Tower hath buried them;
	But how or in what place I do not know.

KING RICHARD III	Come to me, Tyrrel, soon at after supper,
	And thou shalt tell the process of their death.
	Meantime, but think how I may do thee good,
	And be inheritor of thy desire.
	Farewell till soon.

	[Exit TYRREL]

	The son of Clarence have I pent up close;
	His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage;
	The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom,
	And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night.
	Now, for I know the Breton Richmond aims
	At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter,
	And, by that knot, looks proudly o'er the crown,
	To her I go, a jolly thriving wooer.

	[Enter CATESBY]

CATESBY	My lord!

KING RICHARD III	Good news or bad, that thou comest in so bluntly?

CATESBY	Bad news, my lord: Ely is fled to Richmond;
	And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen,
	Is in the field, and still his power increaseth.

KING RICHARD III	Ely with Richmond troubles me more near
	Than Buckingham and his rash-levied army.
	Come, I have heard that fearful commenting
	Is leaden servitor to dull delay;
	Delay leads impotent and snail-paced beggary
	Then fiery expedition be my wing,
	Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king!
	Come, muster men: my counsel is my shield;
	We must be brief when traitors brave the field.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE IV	Before the palace.


	[Enter QUEEN MARGARET]

QUEEN MARGARET	So, now prosperity begins to mellow
	And drop into the rotten mouth of death.
	Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd,
	To watch the waning of mine adversaries.
	A dire induction am I witness to,
	And will to France, hoping the consequence
	Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical.
	Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret: who comes here?

	[Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK]

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Ah, my young princes! ah, my tender babes!
	My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets!
	If yet your gentle souls fly in the air
	And be not fix'd in doom perpetual,
	Hover about me with your airy wings
	And hear your mother's lamentation!

QUEEN MARGARET	Hover about her; say, that right for right
	Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night.

DUCHESS OF YORK	So many miseries have crazed my voice,
	That my woe-wearied tongue is mute and dumb,
	Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

QUEEN MARGARET	Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet.
	Edward for Edward pays a dying debt.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Wilt thou, O God, fly from such gentle lambs,
	And throw them in the entrails of the wolf?
	When didst thou sleep when such a deed was done?

QUEEN MARGARET	When holy Harry died, and my sweet son.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Blind sight, dead life, poor mortal living ghost,
	Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due by life usurp'd,
	Brief abstract and record of tedious days,
	Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth,

	[Sitting down]

	Unlawfully made drunk with innocents' blood!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	O, that thou wouldst as well afford a grave
	As thou canst yield a melancholy seat!
	Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here.
	O, who hath any cause to mourn but I?

	[Sitting down by her]

QUEEN MARGARET	If ancient sorrow be most reverend,
	Give mine the benefit of seniory,
	And let my woes frown on the upper hand.
	If sorrow can admit society,

	[Sitting down with them]

	Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:
	I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
	I had a Harry, till a Richard kill'd him:
	Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him;
	Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard killed him;

DUCHESS OF YORK	I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him;
	I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him.

QUEEN MARGARET	Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him.
	From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept
	A hell-hound that doth hunt us all to death:
	That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes,
	To worry lambs and lap their gentle blood,
	That foul defacer of God's handiwork,
	That excellent grand tyrant of the earth,
	That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls,
	Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.
	O upright, just, and true-disposing God,
	How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur
	Preys on the issue of his mother's body,
	And makes her pew-fellow with others' moan!

DUCHESS OF YORK	O Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes!
	God witness with me, I have wept for thine.

QUEEN MARGARET	Bear with me; I am hungry for revenge,
	And now I cloy me with beholding it.
	Thy Edward he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward:
	Thy other Edward dead, to quit my Edward;
	Young York he is but boot, because both they
	Match not the high perfection of my loss:
	Thy Clarence he is dead that kill'd my Edward;
	And the beholders of this tragic play,
	The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey,
	Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves.
	Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer,
	Only reserved their factor, to buy souls
	And send them thither: but at hand, at hand,
	Ensues his piteous and unpitied end:
	Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray.
	To have him suddenly convey'd away.
	Cancel his bond of life, dear God, I prey,
	That I may live to say, The dog is dead!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	O, thou didst prophesy the time would come
	That I should wish for thee to help me curse
	That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad!

QUEEN MARGARET	I call'd thee then vain flourish of my fortune;
	I call'd thee then poor shadow, painted queen;
	The presentation of but what I was;
	The flattering index of a direful pageant;
	One heaved a-high, to be hurl'd down below;
	A mother only mock'd with two sweet babes;
	A dream of what thou wert, a breath, a bubble,
	A sign of dignity, a garish flag,
	To be the aim of every dangerous shot,
	A queen in jest, only to fill the scene.
	Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers?
	Where are thy children? wherein dost thou, joy?
	Who sues to thee and cries 'God save the queen'?
	Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee?
	Where be the thronging troops that follow'd thee?
	Decline all this, and see what now thou art:
	For happy wife, a most distressed widow;
	For joyful mother, one that wails the name;
	For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care;
	For one being sued to, one that humbly sues;
	For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me;
	For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one;
	For one commanding all, obey'd of none.
	Thus hath the course of justice wheel'd about,
	And left thee but a very prey to time;
	Having no more but thought of what thou wert,
	To torture thee the more, being what thou art.
	Thou didst usurp my place, and dost thou not
	Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow?
	Now thy proud neck bears half my burthen'd yoke;
	From which even here I slip my weary neck,
	And leave the burthen of it all on thee.
	Farewell, York's wife, and queen of sad mischance:
	These English woes will make me smile in France.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	O thou well skill'd in curses, stay awhile,
	And teach me how to curse mine enemies!

QUEEN MARGARET	Forbear to sleep the nights, and fast the days;
	Compare dead happiness with living woe;
	Think that thy babes were fairer than they were,
	And he that slew them fouler than he is:
	Bettering thy loss makes the bad causer worse:
	Revolving this will teach thee how to curse.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	My words are dull; O, quicken them with thine!

QUEEN MARGARET	Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine.

	[Exit]

DUCHESS OF YORK	Why should calamity be full of words?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Windy attorneys to their client woes,
	Airy succeeders of intestate joys,
	Poor breathing orators of miseries!
	Let them have scope: though what they do impart
	Help not all, yet do they ease the heart.

DUCHESS OF YORK	If so, then be not tongue-tied: go with me.
	And in the breath of bitter words let's smother
	My damned son, which thy two sweet sons smother'd.
	I hear his drum: be copious in exclaims.

	[Enter KING RICHARD III, marching, with drums and trumpets]

KING RICHARD III	Who intercepts my expedition?

DUCHESS OF YORK	O, she that might have intercepted thee,
	By strangling thee in her accursed womb
	From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Hidest thou that forehead with a golden crown,
	Where should be graven, if that right were right,
	The slaughter of the prince that owed that crown,
	And the dire death of my two sons and brothers?
	Tell me, thou villain slave, where are my children?

DUCHESS OF YORK	Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence?
	And little Ned Plantagenet, his son?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Where is kind Hastings, Rivers, Vaughan, Grey?

KING RICHARD III	A flourish, trumpets! strike alarum, drums!
	Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women
	Rail on the Lord's enointed: strike, I say!

	[Flourish. Alarums]

	Either be patient, and entreat me fair,
	Or with the clamorous report of war
	Thus will I drown your exclamations.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Art thou my son?

KING RICHARD III	Ay, I thank God, my father, and yourself.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Then patiently hear my impatience.

KING RICHARD III	Madam, I have a touch of your condition,
	Which cannot brook the accent of reproof.

DUCHESS OF YORK	O, let me speak!

KING RICHARD III	                  Do then: but I'll not hear.

DUCHESS OF YORK	I will be mild and gentle in my speech.

KING RICHARD III	And brief, good mother; for I am in haste.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Art thou so hasty? I have stay'd for thee,
	God knows, in anguish, pain and agony.

KING RICHARD III	And came I not at last to comfort you?

DUCHESS OF YORK	No, by the holy rood, thou know'st it well,
	Thou camest on earth to make the earth my hell.
	A grievous burthen was thy birth to me;
	Tetchy and wayward was thy infancy;
	Thy school-days frightful, desperate, wild, and furious,
	Thy prime of manhood daring, bold, and venturous,
	Thy age confirm'd, proud, subdued, bloody,
	treacherous,
	More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred:
	What comfortable hour canst thou name,
	That ever graced me in thy company?

KING RICHARD III	Faith, none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd
	your grace
	To breakfast once forth of my company.
	If I be so disgracious in your sight,
	Let me march on, and not offend your grace.
	Strike the drum.

DUCHESS OF YORK	                  I prithee, hear me speak.

KING RICHARD III	You speak too bitterly.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Hear me a word;
	For I shall never speak to thee again.

KING RICHARD III	So.

DUCHESS OF YORK	Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance,
	Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror,
	Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish
	And never look upon thy face again.
	Therefore take with thee my most heavy curse;
	Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more
	Than all the complete armour that thou wear'st!
	My prayers on the adverse party fight;
	And there the little souls of Edward's children
	Whisper the spirits of thine enemies
	And promise them success and victory.
	Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end;
	Shame serves thy life and doth thy death attend.

	[Exit]

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse
	Abides in me; I say amen to all.

KING RICHARD III	Stay, madam; I must speak a word with you.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	I have no more sons of the royal blood
	For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,
	They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens;
	And therefore level not to hit their lives.

KING RICHARD III	You have a daughter call'd Elizabeth,
	Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	And must she die for this? O, let her live,
	And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty;
	Slander myself as false to Edward's bed;
	Throw over her the veil of infamy:
	So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter,
	I will confess she was not Edward's daughter.

KING RICHARD III	Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	To save her life, I'll say she is not so.

KING RICHARD III	Her life is only safest in her birth.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	And only in that safety died her brothers.

KING RICHARD III	Lo, at their births good stars were opposite.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

KING RICHARD III	All unavoided is the doom of destiny.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	True, when avoided grace makes destiny:
	My babes were destined to a fairer death,
	If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life.

KING RICHARD III	You speak as if that I had slain my cousins.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd
	Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life.
	Whose hand soever lanced their tender hearts,
	Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction:
	No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt
	Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart,
	To revel in the entrails of my lambs.
	But that still use of grief makes wild grief tame,
	My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys
	Till that my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes;
	And I, in such a desperate bay of death,
	Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft,
	Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom.

KING RICHARD III	Madam, so thrive I in my enterprise
	And dangerous success of bloody wars,
	As I intend more good to you and yours,
	Than ever you or yours were by me wrong'd!

QUEEN ELIZABETH	What good is cover'd with the face of heaven,
	To be discover'd, that can do me good?

KING RICHARD III	The advancement of your children, gentle lady.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads?

KING RICHARD III	No, to the dignity and height of honour
	The high imperial type of this earth's glory.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Flatter my sorrows with report of it;
	Tell me what state, what dignity, what honour,
	Canst thou demise to any child of mine?

KING RICHARD III	Even all I have; yea, and myself and all,
	Will I withal endow a child of thine;
	So in the Lethe of thy angry soul
	Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs
	Which thou supposest I have done to thee.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Be brief, lest that be process of thy kindness
	Last longer telling than thy kindness' date.

KING RICHARD III	Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul.

KING RICHARD III	What do you think?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul:
	So from thy soul's love didst thou love her brothers;
	And from my heart's love I do thank thee for it.

KING RICHARD III	Be not so hasty to confound my meaning:
	I mean, that with my soul I love thy daughter,
	And mean to make her queen of England.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Say then, who dost thou mean shall be her king?

KING RICHARD III	Even he that makes her queen who should be else?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	What, thou?

KING RICHARD III	I, even I: what think you of it, madam?

QUEEN ELIZABETH	How canst thou woo her?

KING RICHARD III	That would I learn of you,
	As one that are best acquainted with her humour.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	And wilt thou learn of me?

KING RICHARD III	Madam, with all my heart.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers,
	A pair of bleeding-hearts; thereon engrave
	Edward and York; then haply she will weep:
	Therefore present to her--as sometime Margaret
	Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,--
	A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain
	The purple sap from her sweet brother's body
	And bid her dry her weeping eyes therewith.
	If this inducement force her not to love,
	Send her a story of thy noble acts;
	Tell her thou madest away her uncle Clarence,
	Her uncle Rivers; yea, and, for her sake,
	Madest quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne.

KING RICHARD III	Come, come, you mock me; this is not the way
	To win our daughter.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	There is no other way
	Unless thou couldst put on some other shape,
	And not be Richard that hath done all this.

KING RICHARD III	Say that I did all this for love of her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Nay, then indeed she cannot choose but hate thee,
	Having bought love with such a bloody spoil.

KING RICHARD III	Look, what is done cannot be now amended:
	Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes,
	Which after hours give leisure to repent.
	If I did take the kingdom from your sons,
	To make amends, Ill give it to your daughter.
	If I have kill'd the issue of your womb,
	To quicken your increase, I will beget
	Mine issue of your blood upon your daughter
	A grandam's name is little less in love
	Than is the doting title of a mother;
	They are as children but one step below,
	Even of your mettle, of your very blood;
	Of an one pain, save for a night of groans
	Endured of her, for whom you bid like sorrow.
	Your children were vexation to your youth,
	But mine shall be a comfort to your age.
	The loss you have is but a son being king,
	And by that loss your daughter is made queen.
	I cannot make you what amends I would,
	Therefore accept such kindness as I can.
	Dorset your son, that with a fearful soul
	Leads discontented steps in foreign soil,
	This fair alliance quickly shall call home
	To high promotions and great dignity:
	The king, that calls your beauteous daughter wife.
	Familiarly shall call thy Dorset brother;
	Again shall you be mother to a king,
	And all the ruins of distressful times
	Repair'd with double riches of content.
	What! we have many goodly days to see:
	The liquid drops of tears that you have shed
	Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl,
	Advantaging their loan with interest
	Of ten times double gain of happiness.
	Go, then my mother, to thy daughter go
	Make bold her bashful years with your experience;
	Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale
	Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame
	Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess
	With the sweet silent hours of marriage joys
	And when this arm of mine hath chastised
	The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham,
	Bound with triumphant garlands will I come
	And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed;
	To whom I will retail my conquest won,
	And she shall be sole victress, Caesar's Caesar.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	What were I best to say? her father's brother
	Would be her lord? or shall I say, her uncle?
	Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles?
	Under what title shall I woo for thee,
	That God, the law, my honour and her love,
	Can make seem pleasing to her tender years?

KING RICHARD III	Infer fair England's peace by this alliance.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Which she shall purchase with still lasting war.

KING RICHARD III	Say that the king, which may command, entreats.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	That at her hands which the king's King forbids.

KING RICHARD III	Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	To wail the tide, as her mother doth.

KING RICHARD III	Say, I will love her everlastingly.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	But how long shall that title 'ever' last?

KING RICHARD III	Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	But how long fairly shall her sweet lie last?

KING RICHARD III	So long as heaven and nature lengthens it.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	So long as hell and Richard likes of it.

KING RICHARD III	Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject love.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty.

KING RICHARD III	Be eloquent in my behalf to her.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	An honest tale speeds best being plainly told.

KING RICHARD III	Then in plain terms tell her my loving tale.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Plain and not honest is too harsh a style.

KING RICHARD III	Your reasons are too shallow and too quick.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	O no, my reasons are too deep and dead;
	Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their grave.

KING RICHARD III	Harp not on that string, madam; that is past.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Harp on it still shall I till heart-strings break.

KING RICHARD III	Now, by my George, my garter, and my crown,--

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Profaned, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd.

KING RICHARD III	I swear--

QUEEN ELIZABETH	        By nothing; for this is no oath:
	The George, profaned, hath lost his holy honour;
	The garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue;
	The crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory.
	if something thou wilt swear to be believed,
	Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd.

KING RICHARD III	Now, by the world--

QUEEN ELIZABETH	'Tis full of thy foul wrongs.

KING RICHARD III	My father's death--

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Thy life hath that dishonour'd.

KING RICHARD III	Then, by myself--

QUEEN ELIZABETH	                  Thyself thyself misusest.

KING RICHARD III	Why then, by God--

QUEEN ELIZABETH	                  God's wrong is most of all.
	If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
	The unity the king thy brother made
	Had not been broken, nor my brother slain:
	If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by Him,
	The imperial metal, circling now thy brow,
	Had graced the tender temples of my child,
	And both the princes had been breathing here,
	Which now, two tender playfellows to dust,
	Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms.
	What canst thou swear by now?

KING RICHARD III	The time to come.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	That thou hast wronged in the time o'erpast;
	For I myself have many tears to wash
	Hereafter time, for time past wrong'd by thee.
	The children live, whose parents thou hast
	slaughter'd,
	Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age;
	The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd,
	Old wither'd plants, to wail it with their age.
	Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast
	Misused ere used, by time misused o'erpast.

KING RICHARD III	As I intend to prosper and repent,
	So thrive I in my dangerous attempt
	Of hostile arms! myself myself confound!
	Heaven and fortune bar me happy hours!
	Day, yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest!
	Be opposite all planets of good luck
	To my proceedings, if, with pure heart's love,
	Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,
	I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter!
	In her consists my happiness and thine;
	Without her, follows to this land and me,
	To thee, herself, and many a Christian soul,
	Death, desolation, ruin and decay:
	It cannot be avoided but by this;
	It will not be avoided but by this.
	Therefore, good mother,--I must can you so--
	Be the attorney of my love to her:
	Plead what I will be, not what I have been;
	Not my deserts, but what I will deserve:
	Urge the necessity and state of times,
	And be not peevish-fond in great designs.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Shall I be tempted of the devil thus?

KING RICHARD III	Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Shall I forget myself to be myself?

KING RICHARD III	Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	But thou didst kill my children.

KING RICHARD III	But in your daughter's womb I bury them:
	Where in that nest of spicery they shall breed
	Selves of themselves, to your recomforture.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	Shall I go win my daughter to thy will?

KING RICHARD III	And be a happy mother by the deed.

QUEEN ELIZABETH	I go. Write to me very shortly.
	And you shall understand from me her mind.

KING RICHARD III	Bear her my true love's kiss; and so, farewell.

	[Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH]

	Relenting fool, and shallow, changing woman!

	[Enter RATCLIFF; CATESBY following]

	How now! what news?

RATCLIFF	My gracious sovereign, on the western coast
	Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore
	Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends,
	Unarm'd, and unresolved to beat them back:
	'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral;
	And there they hull, expecting but the aid
	Of Buckingham to welcome them ashore.

KING RICHARD III	Some light-foot friend post to the Duke of Norfolk:
	Ratcliff, thyself, or Catesby; where is he?

CATESBY	Here, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	Fly to the duke:

	[To RATCLIFF]

	Post thou to Salisbury
	When thou comest thither--

	[To CATESBY]

		     Dull, unmindful villain,
	Why stand'st thou still, and go'st not to the duke?

CATESBY	First, mighty sovereign, let me know your mind,
	What from your grace I shall deliver to him.

KING RICHARD III	O, true, good Catesby: bid him levy straight
	The greatest strength and power he can make,
	And meet me presently at Salisbury.

CATESBY	I go.

	[Exit]

RATCLIFF	What is't your highness' pleasure I shall do at
	Salisbury?

KING RICHARD III	Why, what wouldst thou do there before I go?

RATCLIFF	Your highness told me I should post before.

KING RICHARD III	My mind is changed, sir, my mind is changed.

	[Enter STANLEY]

	How now, what news with you?

STANLEY	None good, my lord, to please you with the hearing;
	Nor none so bad, but it may well be told.

KING RICHARD III	Hoyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad!
	Why dost thou run so many mile about,
	When thou mayst tell thy tale a nearer way?
	Once more, what news?

STANLEY	Richmond is on the seas.

KING RICHARD III	There let him sink, and be the seas on him!
	White-liver'd runagate, what doth he there?

STANLEY	I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess.

KING RICHARD III	Well, sir, as you guess, as you guess?

STANLEY	Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Ely,
	He makes for England, there to claim the crown.

KING RICHARD III	Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd?
	Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd?
	What heir of York is there alive but we?
	And who is England's king but great York's heir?
	Then, tell me, what doth he upon the sea?

STANLEY	Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess.

KING RICHARD III	Unless for that he comes to be your liege,
	You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes.
	Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear.

STANLEY	No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not.

KING RICHARD III	Where is thy power, then, to beat him back?
	Where are thy tenants and thy followers?
	Are they not now upon the western shore.
	Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships!

STANLEY	No, my good lord, my friends are in the north.

KING RICHARD III	Cold friends to Richard: what do they in the north,
	When they should serve their sovereign in the west?

STANLEY	They have not been commanded, mighty sovereign:
	Please it your majesty to give me leave,
	I'll muster up my friends, and meet your grace
	Where and what time your majesty shall please.

KING RICHARD III	Ay, ay. thou wouldst be gone to join with Richmond:
	I will not trust you, sir.

STANLEY	Most mighty sovereign,
	You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful:
	I never was nor never will be false.

KING RICHARD III	Well,
	Go muster men; but, hear you, leave behind
	Your son, George Stanley: look your faith be firm.
	Or else his head's assurance is but frail.

STANLEY	So deal with him as I prove true to you.

	[Exit]

	[Enter a Messenger]

Messenger	My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire,
	As I by friends am well advertised,
	Sir Edward Courtney, and the haughty prelate
	Bishop of Exeter, his brother there,
	With many more confederates, are in arms.

	[Enter another Messenger]

Second Messenger	My liege, in Kent the Guildfords are in arms;
	And every hour more competitors
	Flock to their aid, and still their power increaseth.

	[Enter another Messenger]

Third Messenger	My lord, the army of the Duke of Buckingham--

KING RICHARD III	Out on you, owls! nothing but songs of death?

	[He striketh him]

	Take that, until thou bring me better news.

Third Messenger	The news I have to tell your majesty
	Is, that by sudden floods and fall of waters,
	Buckingham's army is dispersed and scatter'd;
	And he himself wander'd away alone,
	No man knows whither.

KING RICHARD III	I cry thee mercy:
	There is my purse to cure that blow of thine.
	Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd
	Reward to him that brings the traitor in?

Third Messenger	Such proclamation hath been made, my liege.

	[Enter another Messenger]

Fourth Messenger	Sir Thomas Lovel and Lord Marquis Dorset,
	'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms.
	Yet this good comfort bring I to your grace,
	The Breton navy is dispersed by tempest:
	Richmond, in Yorkshire, sent out a boat
	Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks
	If they were his assistants, yea or no;
	Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham.
	Upon his party: he, mistrusting them,
	Hoisted sail and made away for Brittany.

KING RICHARD III	March on, march on, since we are up in arms;
	If not to fight with foreign enemies,
	Yet to beat down these rebels here at home.

	[Re-enter CATESBY]

CATESBY	My liege, the Duke of Buckingham is taken;
	That is the best news: that the Earl of Richmond
	Is with a mighty power landed at Milford,
	Is colder tidings, yet they must be told.

KING RICHARD III	Away towards Salisbury! while we reason here,
	A royal battle might be won and lost
	Some one take order Buckingham be brought
	To Salisbury; the rest march on with me.

	[Flourish. Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT IV



SCENE V	Lord Derby's house.


	[Enter DERBY and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK]

DERBY	Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me:
	That in the sty of this most bloody boar
	My son George Stanley is frank'd up in hold:
	If I revolt, off goes young George's head;
	The fear of that withholds my present aid.
	But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now?

CHRISTOPHER	At Pembroke, or at Harford-west, in Wales.

DERBY	What men of name resort to him?

CHRISTOPHER	Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier;
	Sir Gilbert Talbot, Sir William Stanley;
	Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, Sir James Blunt,
	And Rice ap Thomas with a valiant crew;
	And many more of noble fame and worth:
	And towards London they do bend their course,
	If by the way they be not fought withal.

DERBY	Return unto thy lord; commend me to him:
	Tell him the queen hath heartily consented
	He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter.
	These letters will resolve him of my mind. Farewell.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE I	Salisbury. An open place.


	[Enter the Sheriff, and BUCKINGHAM, with halberds,
	led to execution]

BUCKINGHAM	Will not King Richard let me speak with him?

Sheriff	No, my good lord; therefore be patient.

BUCKINGHAM	Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey,
	Holy King Henry, and thy fair son Edward,
	Vaughan, and all that have miscarried
	By underhand corrupted foul injustice,
	If that your moody discontented souls
	Do through the clouds behold this present hour,
	Even for revenge mock my destruction!
	This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not?

Sheriff	It is, my lord.

BUCKINGHAM	Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday.
	This is the day that, in King Edward's time,
	I wish't might fall on me, when I was found
	False to his children or his wife's allies
	This is the day wherein I wish'd to fall
	By the false faith of him I trusted most;
	This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul
	Is the determined respite of my wrongs:
	That high All-Seer that I dallied with
	Hath turn'd my feigned prayer on my head
	And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest.
	Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men
	To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms:
	Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon my head;
	'When he,' quoth she, 'shall split thy heart with sorrow,
	Remember Margaret was a prophetess.'
	Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame;
	Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE II	The camp near Tamworth.


	[Enter RICHMOND, OXFORD, BLUNT, HERBERT, and others,
	with drum and colours]

RICHMOND	Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends,
	Bruised underneath the yoke of tyranny,
	Thus far into the bowels of the land
	Have we march'd on without impediment;
	And here receive we from our father Stanley
	Lines of fair comfort and encouragement.
	The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar,
	That spoil'd your summer fields and fruitful vines,
	Swills your warm blood like wash, and makes his trough
	In your embowell'd bosoms, this foul swine
	Lies now even in the centre of this isle,
	Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn
	From Tamworth thither is but one day's march.
	In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends,
	To reap the harvest of perpetual peace
	By this one bloody trial of sharp war.

OXFORD	Every man's conscience is a thousand swords,
	To fight against that bloody homicide.

HERBERT	I doubt not but his friends will fly to us.

BLUNT	He hath no friends but who are friends for fear.
	Which in his greatest need will shrink from him.

RICHMOND	All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march:
	True hope is swift, and flies with swallow's wings:
	Kings it makes gods, and meaner creatures kings.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE III	Bosworth Field.


	[Enter KING RICHARD III in arms, with NORFOLK,
	SURREY, and others]

KING RICHARD III	Here pitch our tents, even here in Bosworth field.
	My Lord of Surrey, why look you so sad?

SURREY	My heart is ten times lighter than my looks.

KING RICHARD III	My Lord of Norfolk,--

NORFOLK	Here, most gracious liege.


KING RICHARD III	Norfolk, we must have knocks; ha! must we not?

NORFOLK	We must both give and take, my gracious lord.

KING RICHARD III	Up with my tent there! here will I lie tonight;
	But where to-morrow?  Well, all's one for that.
	Who hath descried the number of the foe?

NORFOLK	Six or seven thousand is their utmost power.

KING RICHARD III	Why, our battalion trebles that account:
	Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength,
	Which they upon the adverse party want.
	Up with my tent there! Valiant gentlemen,
	Let us survey the vantage of the field
	Call for some men of sound direction
	Let's want no discipline, make no delay,
	For, lords, to-morrow is a busy day.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter, on the other side of the field, RICHMOND,
	Sir William Brandon, OXFORD, and others. Some of
	the Soldiers pitch RICHMOND's tent]

RICHMOND	The weary sun hath made a golden set,
	And by the bright track of his fiery car,
	Gives signal, of a goodly day to-morrow.
	Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.
	Give me some ink and paper in my tent
	I'll draw the form and model of our battle,
	Limit each leader to his several charge,
	And part in just proportion our small strength.
	My Lord of Oxford, you, Sir William Brandon,
	And you, Sir Walter Herbert, stay with me.
	The Earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment:
	Good Captain Blunt, bear my good night to him
	And by the second hour in the morning
	Desire the earl to see me in my tent:
	Yet one thing more, good Blunt, before thou go'st,
	Where is Lord Stanley quarter'd, dost thou know?

BLUNT	Unless I have mista'en his colours much,
	Which well I am assured I have not done,
	His regiment lies half a mile at least
	South from the mighty power of the king.

RICHMOND	If without peril it be possible,
	Good Captain Blunt, bear my good-night to him,
	And give him from me this most needful scroll.

BLUNT	Upon my life, my lord, I'll under-take it;
	And so, God give you quiet rest to-night!

RICHMOND	Good night, good Captain Blunt. Come gentlemen,
	Let us consult upon to-morrow's business
	In to our tent; the air is raw and cold.

	[They withdraw into the tent]

	[Enter, to his tent, KING RICHARD III, NORFOLK,
	RATCLIFF, CATESBY, and others]

KING RICHARD III	What is't o'clock?

CATESBY	                  It's supper-time, my lord;
	It's nine o'clock.

KING RICHARD III	                  I will not sup to-night.
	Give me some ink and paper.
	What, is my beaver easier than it was?
	And all my armour laid into my tent?

CATESBY	If is, my liege; and all things are in readiness.

KING RICHARD III	Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge;
	Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels.

NORFOLK	I go, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk.

NORFOLK	I warrant you, my lord.

	[Exit]

KING RICHARD III	Catesby!

CATESBY	My lord?

KING RICHARD III	Send out a pursuivant at arms
	To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power
	Before sunrising, lest his son George fall
	Into the blind cave of eternal night.

	[Exit CATESBY]

	Fill me a bowl of wine. Give me a watch.
	Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow.
	Look that my staves be sound, and not too heavy.
	Ratcliff!

RATCLIFF	My lord?

KING RICHARD III	Saw'st thou the melancholy Lord Northumberland?

RATCLIFF	Thomas the Earl of Surrey, and himself,
	Much about cock-shut time, from troop to troop
	Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers.

KING RICHARD III	So, I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine:
	I have not that alacrity of spirit,
	Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.
	Set it down. Is ink and paper ready?

RATCLIFF	It is, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	                  Bid my guard watch; leave me.
	Ratcliff, about the mid of night come to my tent
	And help to arm me. Leave me, I say.

	[Exeunt RATCLIFF and the other Attendants]

	[Enter DERBY to RICHMOND in his tent, Lords and
	others attending]

DERBY	Fortune and victory sit on thy helm!

RICHMOND	All comfort that the dark night can afford
	Be to thy person, noble father-in-law!
	Tell me, how fares our loving mother?

DERBY	I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother
	Who prays continually for Richmond's good:
	So much for that. The silent hours steal on,
	And flaky darkness breaks within the east.
	In brief,--for so the season bids us be,--
	Prepare thy battle early in the morning,
	And put thy fortune to the arbitrement
	Of bloody strokes and mortal-staring war.
	I, as I may--that which I would I cannot,--
	With best advantage will deceive the time,
	And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms:
	But on thy side I may not be too forward
	Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George,
	Be executed in his father's sight.
	Farewell: the leisure and the fearful time
	Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love
	And ample interchange of sweet discourse,
	Which so long sunder'd friends should dwell upon:
	God give us leisure for these rites of love!
	Once more, adieu: be valiant, and speed well!

RICHMOND	Good lords, conduct him to his regiment:
	I'll strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap,
	Lest leaden slumber peise me down to-morrow,
	When I should mount with wings of victory:
	Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen.

	[Exeunt all but RICHMOND]

	O Thou, whose captain I account myself,
	Look on my forces with a gracious eye;
	Put in their hands thy bruising irons of wrath,
	That they may crush down with a heavy fall
	The usurping helmets of our adversaries!
	Make us thy ministers of chastisement,
	That we may praise thee in the victory!
	To thee I do commend my watchful soul,
	Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes:
	Sleeping and waking, O, defend me still!

	[Sleeps]

	[Enter the Ghost of Prince Edward, son to King Henry VI]

Ghost
of Prince Edward	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
	Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth
	At Tewksbury: despair, therefore, and die!

	[To RICHMOND]

	Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls
	Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf
	King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee.

	[Enter the Ghost of King Henry VI]

Ghost
of King Henry VI	[To KING RICHARD III]

	When I was mortal, my anointed body
	By thee was punched full of deadly holes
	Think on the Tower and me: despair, and die!
	Harry the Sixth bids thee despair, and die!

	[To RICHMOND]

	Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror!
	Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king,
	Doth comfort thee in thy sleep: live, and flourish!

	[Enter the Ghost of CLARENCE]

Ghost of CLARENCE	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow!
	I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine,
	Poor Clarence, by thy guile betrayed to death!
	To-morrow in the battle think on me,
	And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!--

	[To RICHMOND]

	Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster
	The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee
	Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish!

	[Enter the Ghosts of RIVERS, GRAY, and VAUGHAN]

Ghost of RIVERS	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow,
	Rivers. that died at Pomfret! despair, and die!

Ghost of GREY	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair!

Ghost of VAUGHAN	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Think upon Vaughan, and, with guilty fear,
	Let fall thy lance: despair, and die!

All	[To RICHMOND]

	Awake, and think our wrongs in Richard's bosom
	Will conquer him! awake, and win the day!

	[Enter the Ghost of HASTINGS]

Ghost of HASTINGS	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake,
	And in a bloody battle end thy days!
	Think on Lord Hastings: despair, and die!

	[To RICHMOND]

	Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake!
	Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake!

	[Enter the Ghosts of the two young Princes]

Ghosts
of young Princes	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower:
	Let us be led within thy bosom, Richard,
	And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death!
	Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair and die!

	[To RICHMOND]

	Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy;
	Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy!
	Live, and beget a happy race of kings!
	Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish.

	[Enter the Ghost of LADY ANNE]

Ghost of LADY ANNE	[To KING RICHARD III]

	Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife,
	That never slept a quiet hour with thee,
	Now fills thy sleep with perturbations
	To-morrow in the battle think on me,
	And fall thy edgeless sword: despair, and die!

	[To RICHMOND]

	Thou quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep
	Dream of success and happy victory!
	Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee.

	[Enter the Ghost of BUCKINGHAM]

Ghost
of BUCKINGHAM	[To KING RICHARD III]

	The last was I that helped thee to the crown;
	The last was I that felt thy tyranny:
	O, in the battle think on Buckingham,
	And die in terror of thy guiltiness!
	Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death:
	Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!

	[To RICHMOND]

	I died for hope ere I could lend thee aid:
	But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd:
	God and good angel fight on Richmond's side;
	And Richard falls in height of all his pride.

	[The Ghosts vanish]

	[KING RICHARD III starts out of his dream]

KING RICHARD III	Give me another horse: bind up my wounds.
	Have mercy, Jesu!--Soft! I did but dream.
	O coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!
	The lights burn blue. It is now dead midnight.
	Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh.
	What do I fear?  myself?  there's none else by:
	Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I.
	Is there a murderer here?  No. Yes, I am:
	Then fly. What, from myself?   Great reason why:
	Lest I revenge. What, myself upon myself?
	Alack. I love myself. Wherefore?  for any good
	That I myself have done unto myself?
	O, no! alas, I rather hate myself
	For hateful deeds committed by myself!
	I am a villain: yet I lie. I am not.
	Fool, of thyself speak well: fool, do not flatter.
	My conscience hath a thousand several tongues,
	And every tongue brings in a several tale,
	And every tale condemns me for a villain.
	Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree
	Murder, stem murder, in the direst degree;
	All several sins, all used in each degree,
	Throng to the bar, crying all, Guilty! guilty!
	I shall despair. There is no creature loves me;
	And if I die, no soul shall pity me:
	Nay, wherefore should they, since that I myself
	Find in myself no pity to myself?
	Methought the souls of all that I had murder'd
	Came to my tent; and every one did threat
	To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard.

	[Enter RATCLIFF]

RATCLIFF	My lord!

KING RICHARD III	'Zounds! who is there?

RATCLIFF	Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I. The early village-cock
	Hath twice done salutation to the morn;
	Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour.

KING RICHARD III	O Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream!
	What thinkest thou, will our friends prove all true?

RATCLIFF	No doubt, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	                  O Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,--

RATCLIFF	Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows.

KING RICHARD III	By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night
	Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard
	Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers
	Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond.
	It is not yet near day. Come, go with me;
	Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper,
	To see if any mean to shrink from me.

	[Exeunt]

	[Enter the Lords to RICHMOND, sitting in his tent]

LORDS	Good morrow, Richmond!

RICHMOND	Cry mercy, lords and watchful gentlemen,
	That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here.

LORDS	How have you slept, my lord?

RICHMOND	The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams
	That ever enter'd in a drowsy head,
	Have I since your departure had, my lords.
	Methought their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd,
	Came to my tent, and cried on victory:
	I promise you, my soul is very jocund
	In the remembrance of so fair a dream.
	How far into the morning is it, lords?

LORDS	Upon the stroke of four.

RICHMOND	Why, then 'tis time to arm and give direction.

	[His oration to his soldiers]

	More than I have said, loving countrymen,
	The leisure and enforcement of the time
	Forbids to dwell upon: yet remember this,
	God and our good cause fight upon our side;
	The prayers of holy saints and wronged souls,
	Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces;
	Richard except, those whom we fight against
	Had rather have us win than him they follow:
	For what is he they follow?  truly, gentlemen,
	A bloody tyrant and a homicide;
	One raised in blood, and one in blood establish'd;
	One that made means to come by what he hath,
	And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him;
	Abase foul stone, made precious by the foil
	Of England's chair, where he is falsely set;
	One that hath ever been God's enemy:
	Then, if you fight against God's enemy,
	God will in justice ward you as his soldiers;
	If you do sweat to put a tyrant down,
	You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain;
	If you do fight against your country's foes,
	Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire;
	If you do fight in safeguard of your wives,
	Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors;
	If you do free your children from the sword,
	Your children's children quit it in your age.
	Then, in the name of God and all these rights,
	Advance your standards, draw your willing swords.
	For me, the ransom of my bold attempt
	Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face;
	But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt
	The least of you shall share his part thereof.
	Sound drums and trumpets boldly and cheerfully;
	God and Saint George! Richmond and victory!

	[Exeunt]

	[Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants
	and Forces]

KING RICHARD III	What said Northumberland as touching Richmond?

RATCLIFF	That he was never trained up in arms.

KING RICHARD III	He said the truth: and what said Surrey then?

RATCLIFF	He smiled and said 'The better for our purpose.'

KING RICHARD III	He was in the right; and so indeed it is.

	[Clock striketh]

	Ten the clock there. Give me a calendar.
	Who saw the sun to-day?

RATCLIFF	Not I, my lord.

KING RICHARD III	Then he disdains to shine; for by the book
	He should have braved the east an hour ago
	A black day will it be to somebody. Ratcliff!

RATCLIFF	        My lord?

KING RICHARD III	The sun will not be seen to-day;
	The sky doth frown and lour upon our army.
	I would these dewy tears were from the ground.
	Not shine to-day! Why, what is that to me
	More than to Richmond?  for the selfsame heaven
	That frowns on me looks sadly upon him.

	[Enter NORFOLK]

NORFOLK	Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field.

KING RICHARD III	Come, bustle, bustle; caparison my horse.
	Call up Lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:
	I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain,
	And thus my battle shall be ordered:
	My foreward shall be drawn out all in length,
	Consisting equally of horse and foot;
	Our archers shall be placed in the midst
	John Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Earl of Surrey,
	Shall have the leading of this foot and horse.
	They thus directed, we will follow
	In the main battle, whose puissance on either side
	Shall be well winged with our chiefest horse.
	This, and Saint George to boot! What think'st thou, Norfolk?

NORFOLK	A good direction, warlike sovereign.
	This found I on my tent this morning.

	[He sheweth him a paper]

KING RICHARD III	[Reads]

	'Jockey of Norfolk, be not too bold,
	For Dickon thy master is bought and sold.'
	A thing devised by the enemy.
	Go, gentleman, every man unto his charge
	Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls:
	Conscience is but a word that cowards use,
	Devised at first to keep the strong in awe:
	Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law.
	March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell
	If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell.

	[His oration to his Army]

	What shall I say more than I have inferr'd?
	Remember whom you are to cope withal;
	A sort of vagabonds, rascals, and runaways,
	A scum of Bretons, and base lackey peasants,
	Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth
	To desperate ventures and assured destruction.
	You sleeping safe, they bring to you unrest;
	You having lands, and blest with beauteous wives,
	They would restrain the one, distain the other.
	And who doth lead them but a paltry fellow,
	Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost?
	A milk-sop, one that never in his life
	Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow?
	Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again;
	Lash hence these overweening rags of France,
	These famish'd beggars, weary of their lives;
	Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit,
	For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves:
	If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us,
	And not these bastard Bretons; whom our fathers
	Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'd,
	And in record, left them the heirs of shame.
	Shall these enjoy our lands?  lie with our wives?
	Ravish our daughters?

	[Drum afar off]

		Hark! I hear their drum.
	Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yoemen!
	Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head!
	Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood;
	Amaze the welkin with your broken staves!

	[Enter a Messenger]

	What says Lord Stanley? will he bring his power?

Messenger	My lord, he doth deny to come.

KING RICHARD III	Off with his son George's head!

NORFOLK	My lord, the enemy is past the marsh
	After the battle let George Stanley die.

KING RICHARD III	A thousand hearts are great within my bosom:
	Advance our standards, set upon our foes
	Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George,
	Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons!
	Upon them! victory sits on our helms.

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE IV	Another part of the field.


	[Alarum: excursions. Enter NORFOLK and forces
	fighting; to him CATESBY]

CATESBY	Rescue, my Lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue!
	The king enacts more wonders than a man,
	Daring an opposite to every danger:
	His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights,
	Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death.
	Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost!

	[Alarums. Enter KING RICHARD III]

KING RICHARD III	A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

CATESBY	Withdraw, my lord; I'll help you to a horse.

KING RICHARD III	Slave, I have set my life upon a cast,
	And I will stand the hazard of the die:
	I think there be six Richmonds in the field;
	Five have I slain to-day instead of him.
	A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse!

	[Exeunt]




	KING RICHARD III


ACT V



SCENE V	Another part of the field.


	[Alarum. Enter KING RICHARD III and RICHMOND; they
	fight. KING RICHARD III is slain. Retreat and
	flourish. Re-enter RICHMOND, DERBY bearing the
	crown, with divers other Lords]

RICHMOND	God and your arms be praised, victorious friends,
	The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead.

DERBY	Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee.
	Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty
	From the dead temples of this bloody wretch
	Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal:
	Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it.

RICHMOND	Great God of heaven, say Amen to all!
	But, tell me, is young George Stanley living?

DERBY	He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town;
	Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us.

RICHMOND	What men of name are slain on either side?

DERBY	John Duke of Norfolk, Walter Lord Ferrers,
	Sir Robert Brakenbury, and Sir William Brandon.

RICHMOND	Inter their bodies as becomes their births:
	Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled
	That in submission will return to us:
	And then, as we have ta'en the sacrament,
	We will unite the white rose and the red:
	Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction,
	That long have frown'd upon their enmity!
	What traitor hears me, and says not amen?
	England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself;
	The brother blindly shed the brother's blood,
	The father rashly slaughter'd his own son,
	The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire:
	All this divided York and Lancaster,
	Divided in their dire division,
	O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth,
	The true succeeders of each royal house,
	By God's fair ordinance conjoin together!
	And let their heirs, God, if thy will be so.
	Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace,
	With smiling plenty and fair prosperous days!
	Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord,
	That would reduce these bloody days again,
	And make poor England weep in streams of blood!
	Let them not live to taste this land's increase
	That would with treason wound this fair land's peace!
	Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again:
	That she may long live here, God say amen!

	[Exeunt]




	VENUS AND ADONIS



'Vilia miretur vulgus; mihi flavus Apollo
Pocula Castalia plena ministret aqua.'

TO THE
RIGHT HONORABLE HENRY WRIOTHESLY,
EARL OF SOUTHAMPTON, AND BARON OF TICHFIELD.
RIGHT HONORABLE,

I KNOW not how I shall offend in dedicating my
unpolished lines to your lordship, nor how the world will
censure me for choosing so strong a prop to support so weak a
burden only, if your honour seem but pleased, I account
myself highly praised, and vow to take advantage of all idle
hours, till I have honoured you with some graver labour. But if
the first heir of my invention prove deformed, I shall be
sorry it had so noble a god-father, and never after ear so
barren a land, for fear it yield me still so bad a harvest.
I leave it to your honourable survey, and your honour to your
heart's content; which I wish may always answer your own wish
and the world's hopeful expectation.

Your honour's in all duty,
WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE.



EVEN as the sun with purple-colour'd face
Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn,
Rose-cheek'd Adonis hied him to the chase;
Hunting he loved, but love he laugh'd to scorn;
Sick-thoughted Venus makes amain unto him,
And like a bold-faced suitor 'gins to woo him.

'Thrice-fairer than myself,' thus she began,
'The field's chief flower, sweet above compare,
Stain to all nymphs, more lovely than a man,
More white and red than doves or roses are;
Nature that made thee, with herself at strife,
Saith that the world hath ending with thy life.

'Vouchsafe, thou wonder, to alight thy steed,
And rein his proud head to the saddle-bow;
If thou wilt deign this favour, for thy meed
A thousand honey secrets shalt thou know:
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I'll smother thee with kisses;

'And yet not cloy thy lips with loathed satiety,
But rather famish them amid their plenty,
Making them red and pale with fresh variety,
Ten kisses short as one, one long as twenty:
A summer's day will seem an hour but short,
Being wasted in such time-beguiling sport.'

With this she seizeth on his sweating palm,
The precedent of pith and livelihood,
And trembling in her passion, calls it balm,
Earth's sovereign salve to do a goddess good:
Being so enraged, desire doth lend her force
Courageously to pluck him from his horse.

Over one arm the lusty courser's rein,
Under her other was the tender boy,
Who blush'd and pouted in a dull disdain,
With leaden appetite, unapt to toy;
She red and hot as coals of glowing fire,
He red for shame, but frosty in desire.

The studded bridle on a ragged bough
Nimbly she fastens:--O, how quick is love!--
The steed is stalled up, and even now
To tie the rider she begins to prove:
Backward she push'd him, as she would be thrust,
And govern'd him in strength, though not in lust.

So soon was she along as he was down,
Each leaning on their elbows and their hips:
Now doth she stroke his cheek, now doth he frown,
And 'gins to chide, but soon she stops his lips;
And kissing speaks, with lustful language broken,
'If thou wilt chide, thy lips shall never open.'

He burns with bashful shame: she with her tears
Doth quench the maiden burning of his cheeks;
Then with her windy sighs and golden hairs
To fan and blow them dry again she seeks:
He saith she is immodest, blames her 'miss;
What follows more she murders with a kiss.

Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast,
Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh and bone,
Shaking her wings, devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuff'd or prey be gone;
Even so she kissed his brow, his cheek, his chin,
And where she ends she doth anew begin.

Forced to content, but never to obey,
Panting he lies and breatheth in her face;
She feedeth on the steam as on a prey,
And calls it heavenly moisture, air of grace;
Wishing her cheeks were gardens full of flowers,
So they were dew'd with such distilling showers.

Look, how a bird lies tangled in a net,
So fasten'd in her arms Adonis lies;
Pure shame and awed resistance made him fret,
Which bred more beauty in his angry eyes:
Rain added to a river that is rank
Perforce will force it overflow the bank.

Still she entreats, and prettily entreats,
For to a pretty ear she tunes her tale;
Still is he sullen, still he lours and frets,
'Twixt crimson shame and anger ashy-pale:
Being red, she loves him best; and being white,
Her best is better'd with a more delight.

Look how he can, she cannot choose but love;
And by her fair immortal hand she swears,
From his soft bosom never to remove,
Till he take truce with her contending tears,
Which long have rain'd, making her cheeks all wet;
And one sweet kiss shall pay this countless debt.

Upon this promise did he raise his chin,
Like a dive-dapper peering through a wave,
Who, being look'd on, ducks as quickly in;
So offers he to give what she did crave;
But when her lips were ready for his pay,
He winks, and turns his lips another way.

Never did passenger in summer's heat
More thirst for drink than she for this good turn.
Her help she sees, but help she cannot get;
She bathes in water, yet her fire must burn:
'O, pity,' 'gan she cry, 'flint-hearted boy!
'Tis but a kiss I beg; why art thou coy?

'I have been woo'd, as I entreat thee now,
Even by the stern and direful god of war,
Whose sinewy neck in battle ne'er did bow,
Who conquers where he comes in every jar;
Yet hath he been my captive and my slave,
And begg'd for that which thou unask'd shalt have.

'Over my altars hath he hung his lance,
His batter'd shield, his uncontrolled crest,
And for my sake hath learn'd to sport and dance,
To toy, to wanton, dally, smile and jest,
Scorning his churlish drum and ensign red,
Making my arms his field, his tent my bed.

'Thus he that overruled I oversway'd,
Leading him prisoner in a red-rose chain:
Strong-tempered steel his stronger strength obey'd,
Yet was he servile to my coy disdain.
O, be not proud, nor brag not of thy might,
For mastering her that foil'd the god of fight!

'Touch but my lips with those fair lips of thine,--
Though mine be not so fair, yet are they red--
The kiss shall be thine own as well as mine.
What seest thou in the ground? hold up thy head:
Look in mine eye-balls, there thy beauty lies;
Then why not lips on lips, since eyes in eyes?
'Art thou ashamed to kiss? then wink again,
And I will wink; so shall the day seem night;
Love keeps his revels where they are but twain;
Be bold to play, our sport is not in sight:
These blue-vein'd violets whereon we lean
Never can blab, nor know not what we mean.

'The tender spring upon thy tempting lip
Shows thee unripe; yet mayst thou well be tasted:
Make use of time, let not advantage slip;
Beauty within itself should not be wasted:
Fair flowers that are not gather'd in their prime
Rot and consume themselves in little time.

'Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old,
Ill-nurtured, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice,
O'erworn, despised, rheumatic and cold,
Thick-sighted, barren, lean and lacking juice,
Then mightst thou pause, for then I were not for thee
But having no defects, why dost abhor me?

'Thou canst not see one wrinkle in my brow;
Mine eyes are gray and bright and quick in turning:
My beauty as the spring doth yearly grow,
My flesh is soft and plump, my marrow burning;
My smooth moist hand, were it with thy hand felt,
Would in thy palm dissolve, or seem to melt.

'Bid me discourse, I will enchant thine ear,
Or, like a fairy, trip upon the green,
Or, like a nymph, with long dishevell'd hair,
Dance on the sands, and yet no footing seen:
Love is a spirit all compact of fire,
Not gross to sink, but light, and will aspire.

'Witness this primrose bank whereon I lie;
These forceless flowers like sturdy trees support me;
Two strengthless doves will draw me through the sky,
From morn till night, even where I list to sport me:
Is love so light, sweet boy, and may it be
That thou shouldst think it heavy unto thee?

'Is thine own heart to thine own face affected?
Can thy right hand seize love upon thy left?
Then woo thyself, be of thyself rejected,
Steal thine own freedom and complain on theft.
Narcissus so himself himself forsook,
And died to kiss his shadow in the brook.

'Torches are made to light, jewels to wear,
Dainties to taste, fresh beauty for the use,
Herbs for their smell, and sappy plants to bear:
Things growing to themselves are growth's abuse:
Seeds spring from seeds and beauty breedeth beauty;
Thou wast begot; to get it is thy duty.

'Upon the earth's increase why shouldst thou feed,
Unless the earth with thy increase be fed?
By law of nature thou art bound to breed,
That thine may live when thou thyself art dead;
And so, in spite of death, thou dost survive,
In that thy likeness still is left alive.'

By this the love-sick queen began to sweat,
For where they lay the shadow had forsook them,
And Titan, tired in the mid-day heat,
With burning eye did hotly overlook them;
Wishing Adonis had his team to guide,
So he were like him and by Venus' side.

And now Adonis, with a lazy spright,
And with a heavy, dark, disliking eye,
His louring brows o'erwhelming his fair sight,
Like misty vapours when they blot the sky,
Souring his cheeks cries 'Fie, no more of love!
The sun doth burn my face: I must remove.'

'Ay me,' quoth Venus, 'young, and so unkind?
What bare excuses makest thou to be gone!
I'll sigh celestial breath, whose gentle wind
Shall cool the heat of this descending sun:
I'll make a shadow for thee of my hairs;
If they burn too, I'll quench them with my tears.

'The sun that shines from heaven shines but warm,
And, lo, I lie between that sun and thee:
The heat I have from thence doth little harm,
Thine eye darts forth the fire that burneth me;
And were I not immortal, life were done
Between this heavenly and earthly sun.

'Art thou obdurate, flinty, hard as steel,
Nay, more than flint, for stone at rain relenteth?
Art thou a woman's son, and canst not feel
What 'tis to love? how want of love tormenteth?
O, had thy mother borne so hard a mind,
She had not brought forth thee, but died unkind.

'What am I, that thou shouldst contemn me this?
Or what great danger dwells upon my suit?
What were thy lips the worse for one poor kiss?
Speak, fair; but speak fair words, or else be mute:
Give me one kiss, I'll give it thee again,
And one for interest, if thou wilt have twain.

'Fie, lifeless picture, cold and senseless stone,
Well-painted idol, image dun and dead,
Statue contenting but the eye alone,
Thing like a man, but of no woman bred!
Thou art no man, though of a man's complexion,
For men will kiss even by their own direction.'

This said, impatience chokes her pleading tongue,
And swelling passion doth provoke a pause;
Red cheeks and fiery eyes blaze forth he wrong;
Being judge in love, she cannot right her cause:
And now she weeps, and now she fain would speak,
And now her sobs do her intendments break.

Sometimes she shakes her head and then his hand,
Now gazeth she on him, now on the ground;
Sometimes her arms infold him like a band:
She would, he will not in her arms be bound;
And when from thence he struggles to be gone,
She locks her lily fingers one in one.

'Fondling,' she saith, 'since I have hemm'd thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I'll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie.

Within this limit is relief enough,
Sweet bottom-grass and high delightful plain,
Round rising hillocks, brakes obscure and rough,
To shelter thee from tempest and from rain
Then be my deer, since I am such a park;
No dog shall rouse thee, though a thousand bark.'

At this Adonis smiles as in disdain,
That in each cheek appears a pretty dimple:
Love made those hollows, if himself were slain,
He might be buried in a tomb so simple;
Foreknowing well, if there he came to lie,
Why, there Love lived and there he could not die.

These lovely caves, these round enchanting pits,
Open'd their mouths to swallow Venus' liking.
Being mad before, how doth she now for wits?
Struck dead at first, what needs a second striking?
Poor queen of love, in thine own law forlorn,
To love a cheek that smiles at thee in scorn!

Now which way shall she turn? what shall she say?
Her words are done, her woes are more increasing;
The time is spent, her object will away,
And from her twining arms doth urge releasing.
'Pity,' she cries, 'some favour, some remorse!'
Away he springs and hasteth to his horse.

But, lo, from forth a copse that neighbors by,
A breeding jennet, lusty, young and proud,
Adonis' trampling courser doth espy,
And forth she rushes, snorts and neighs aloud:
The strong-neck'd steed, being tied unto a tree,
Breaketh his rein, and to her straight goes he.

Imperiously he leaps, he neighs, he bounds,
And now his woven girths he breaks asunder;
The bearing earth with his hard hoof he wounds,
Whose hollow womb resounds like heaven's thunder;
The iron bit he crusheth 'tween his teeth,
Controlling what he was controlled with.

His ears up-prick'd; his braided hanging mane
Upon his compass'd crest now stand on end;
His nostrils drink the air, and forth again,
As from a furnace, vapours doth he send:
His eye, which scornfully glisters like fire,
Shows his hot courage and his high desire.

Sometime he trots, as if he told the steps,
With gentle majesty and modest pride;
Anon he rears upright, curvets and leaps,
As who should say 'Lo, thus my strength is tried,
And this I do to captivate the eye
Of the fair breeder that is standing by.'

What recketh he his rider's angry stir,
His flattering 'Holla,' or his 'Stand, I say'?
What cares he now for curb or pricking spur?
For rich caparisons or trapping gay?
He sees his love, and nothing else he sees,
For nothing else with his proud sight agrees.

Look, when a painter would surpass the life,
In limning out a well-proportion'd steed,
His art with nature's workmanship at strife,
As if the dead the living should exceed;
So did this horse excel a common one
In shape, in courage, colour, pace and bone.

Round-hoof'd, short-jointed, fetlocks shag and long,
Broad breast, full eye, small head and nostril wide,
High crest, short ears, straight legs and passing strong,
Thin mane, thick tail, broad buttock, tender hide:
Look, what a horse should have he did not lack,
Save a proud rider on so proud a back.

Sometime he scuds far off and there he stares;
Anon he starts at stirring of a feather;
To bid the wind a base he now prepares,
And whether he run or fly they know not whether;
For through his mane and tail the high wind sings,
Fanning the hairs, who wave like feather'd wings.

He looks upon his love and neighs unto her;
She answers him as if she knew his mind:
Being proud, as females are, to see him woo her,
She puts on outward strangeness, seems unkind,
Spurns at his love and scorns the heat he feels,
Beating his kind embracements with her heels.

Then, like a melancholy malcontent,
He veils his tail that, like a falling plume,
Cool shadow to his melting buttock lent:
He stamps and bites the poor flies in his fume.
His love, perceiving how he is enraged,
Grew kinder, and his fury was assuaged.

His testy master goeth about to take him;
When, lo, the unback'd breeder, full of fear,
Jealous of catching, swiftly doth forsake him,
With her the horse, and left Adonis there:
As they were mad, unto the wood they hie them,
Out-stripping crows that strive to over-fly them.

All swoln with chafing, down Adonis sits,
Banning his boisterous and unruly beast:
And now the happy season once more fits,
That love-sick Love by pleading may be blest;
For lovers say, the heart hath treble wrong
When it is barr'd the aidance of the tongue.

An oven that is stopp'd, or river stay'd,
Burneth more hotly, swelleth with more rage:
So of concealed sorrow may be said;
Free vent of words love's fire doth assuage;
But when the heart's attorney once is mute,
The client breaks, as desperate in his suit.

He sees her coming, and begins to glow,
Even as a dying coal revives with wind,
And with his bonnet hides his angry brow;
Looks on the dull earth with disturbed mind,
Taking no notice that she is so nigh,
For all askance he holds her in his eye.

O, what a sight it was, wistly to view
How she came stealing to the wayward boy!
To note the fighting conflict of her hue,
How white and red each other did destroy!
But now her cheek was pale, and by and by
It flash'd forth fire, as lightning from the sky.

Now was she just before him as he sat,
And like a lowly lover down she kneels;
With one fair hand she heaveth up his hat,
Her other tender hand his fair cheek feels:
His tenderer cheek receives her soft hand's print,
As apt as new-fall'n snow takes any dint.

O, what a war of looks was then between them!
Her eyes petitioners to his eyes suing;
His eyes saw her eyes as they had not seen them;
Her eyes woo'd still, his eyes disdain'd the wooing:
And all this dumb play had his acts made plain
With tears, which, chorus-like, her eyes did rain.

Full gently now she takes him by the hand,
A lily prison'd in a gaol of snow,
Or ivory in an alabaster band;
So white a friend engirts so white a foe:
This beauteous combat, wilful and unwilling,
Show'd like two silver doves that sit a-billing.

Once more the engine of her thoughts began:
'O fairest mover on this mortal round,
Would thou wert as I am, and I a man,
My heart all whole as thine, thy heart my wound;
For one sweet look thy help I would assure thee,
Though nothing but my body's bane would cure thee!

'Give me my hand,' saith he, 'why dost thou feel it?'
'Give me my heart,' saith she, 'and thou shalt have it:
O, give it me, lest thy hard heart do steel it,
And being steel'd, soft sighs can never grave it:
Then love's deep groans I never shall regard,
Because Adonis' heart hath made mine hard.'

'For shame,' he cries, 'let go, and let me go;
My day's delight is past, my horse is gone,
And 'tis your fault I am bereft him so:
I pray you hence, and leave me here alone;
For all my mind, my thought, my busy care,
Is how to get my palfrey from the mare.'

Thus she replies: 'Thy palfrey, as he should,
Welcomes the warm approach of sweet desire:
Affection is a coal that must be cool'd;
Else, suffer'd, it will set the heart on fire:
The sea hath bounds, but deep desire hath none;
Therefore no marvel though thy horse be gone.

'How like a jade he stood, tied to the tree,
Servilely master'd with a leathern rein!
But when he saw his love, his youth's fair fee,
He held such petty bondage in disdain;
Throwing the base thong from his bending crest,
Enfranchising his mouth, his back, his breast.

'Who sees his true-love in her naked bed,
Teaching the sheets a whiter hue than white,
But, when his glutton eye so full hath fed,
His other agents aim at like delight?
Who is so faint, that dare not be so bold
To touch the fire, the weather being cold?

'Let me excuse thy courser, gentle boy;
And learn of him, I heartily beseech thee,
To take advantage on presented joy;
Though I were dumb, yet his proceedings teach thee;
O, learn to love; the lesson is but plain,
And once made perfect, never lost again.'

I know not love,' quoth he, 'nor will not know it,
Unless it be a boar, and then I chase it;
'Tis much to borrow, and I will not owe it;
My love to love is love but to disgrace it;
For I have heard it is a life in death,
That laughs and weeps, and all but with a breath.

'Who wears a garment shapeless and unfinish'd?
Who plucks the bud before one leaf put forth?
If springing things be any jot diminish'd,
They wither in their prime, prove nothing worth:
The colt that's back'd and burden'd being young
Loseth his pride and never waxeth strong.

'You hurt my hand with wringing; let us part,
And leave this idle theme, this bootless chat:
Remove your siege from my unyielding heart;
To love's alarms it will not ope the gate:
Dismiss your vows, your feigned tears, your flattery;
For where a heart is hard they make no battery.'

'What! canst thou talk?' quoth she, 'hast thou a tongue?
O, would thou hadst not, or I had no hearing!
Thy mermaid's voice hath done me double wrong;
I had my load before, now press'd with bearing:
Melodious discord, heavenly tune harshsounding,
Ear's deep-sweet music, and heart's deep-sore wounding.

'Had I no eyes but ears, my ears would love
That inward beauty and invisible;
Or were I deaf, thy outward parts would move
Each part in me that were but sensible:
Though neither eyes nor ears, to hear nor see,
Yet should I be in love by touching thee.

'Say, that the sense of feeling were bereft me,
And that I could not see, nor hear, nor touch,
And nothing but the very smell were left me,
Yet would my love to thee be still as much;
For from the stillitory of thy face excelling
Comes breath perfumed that breedeth love by
smelling.

'But, O, what banquet wert thou to the taste,
Being nurse and feeder of the other four!
Would they not wish the feast might ever last,
And bid Suspicion double-lock the door,
Lest Jealousy, that sour unwelcome guest,
Should, by his stealing in, disturb the feast?'

Once more the ruby-colour'd portal open'd,
Which to his speech did honey passage yield;
Like a red morn, that ever yet betoken'd
Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field,
Sorrow to shepherds, woe unto the birds,
Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds.

This ill presage advisedly she marketh:
Even as the wind is hush'd before it raineth,
Or as the wolf doth grin before he barketh,
Or as the berry breaks before it staineth,
Or like the deadly bullet of a gun,
His meaning struck her ere his words begun.

And at his look she flatly falleth down,
For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth;
A smile recures the wounding of a frown;
But blessed bankrupt, that by love so thriveth!
The silly boy, believing she is dead,
Claps her pale cheek, till clapping makes it red;

And all amazed brake off his late intent,
For sharply he did think to reprehend her,
Which cunning love did wittily prevent:
Fair fall the wit that can so well defend her!
For on the grass she lies as she were slain,
Till his breath breatheth life in her again.

He wrings her nose, he strikes her on the cheeks,
He bends her fingers, holds her pulses hard,
He chafes her lips; a thousand ways he seeks
To mend the hurt that his unkindness marr'd:
He kisses her; and she, by her good will,
Will never rise, so he will kiss her still.

The night of sorrow now is turn'd to day:
Her two blue windows faintly she up-heaveth,
Like the fair sun, when in his fresh array
He cheers the morn and all the earth relieveth;
And as the bright sun glorifies the sky,
So is her face illumined with her eye;

Whose beams upon his hairless face are fix'd,
As if from thence they borrow'd all their shine.
Were never four such lamps together mix'd,
Had not his clouded with his brow's repine;
But hers, which through the crystal tears gave light,
Shone like the moon in water seen by night.

'O, where am I?' quoth she, 'in earth or heaven,
Or in the ocean drench'd, or in the fire?
What hour is this? or morn or weary even?
Do I delight to die, or life desire?
But now I lived, and life was death's annoy;
But now I died, and death was lively joy.

'O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again:
Thy eyes' shrewd tutor, that hard heart of thine,
Hath taught them scornful tricks and such disdain
That they have murder'd this poor heart of mine;
And these mine eyes, true leaders to their queen,
But for thy piteous lips no more had seen.

'Long may they kiss each other, for this cure!
O, never let their crimson liveries wear!
And as they last, their verdure still endure,
To drive infection from the dangerous year!
That the star-gazers, having writ on death,
May say, the plague is banish'd by thy breath.

'Pure lips, sweet seals in my soft lips imprinted,
What bargains may I make, still to be sealing?
To sell myself I can be well contented,
So thou wilt buy and pay and use good dealing;
Which purchase if thou make, for fear of slips
Set thy seal-manual on my wax-red lips.

'A thousand kisses buys my heart from me;
And pay them at thy leisure, one by one.
What is ten hundred touches unto thee?
Are they not quickly told and quickly gone?
Say, for non-payment that the debt should double,
Is twenty hundred kisses such a trouble?

'Fair queen,' quoth he, 'if any love you owe me,
Measure my strang