So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stained their fetlocks21 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 upon27, as if the tragedy
Were played in jest by counterfeiting28 actors?
Kneels
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 measure32 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 thee36,
Thou setter-up and plucker-down of kings,
Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands38
That to my foes this body must be prey,
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope40,
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 springtime 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 to51 us.
And, if we thrive52, promise them such rewards
As victors wear at the Olympian games53.
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,
For yet is hope of life and victory.
Forslow56 no longer, make we hence amain.
Exeunt
[Act 2 Scene 4]
running scene 5 continues
Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford
RICHARD Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone1.
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of York,
And this for Rutland, both bound to revenge,
Wert thou4 environed with a brazen wall.
CLIFFORD Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone.
This is the hand that stabbed thy father York,
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland,
And here's the heart that triumphs in their death
And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and brother
To execute the like upon thyself.
And so, have at thee11!
They fight
Warwick comes [and rescues Richard], Clifford flies
RICHARD Nay Warwick, single out some other chase12,
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.
Exeunt
[Act 2 Scene 5]
running scene 5 continues
Alarum. Enter King Henry 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,3
Can neither call it perfect4 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 flood9 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 poise of this fell13 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 chid17 me from the battle, swearing both
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead, if God's good will were so;
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 swain22,
To sit upon a hill, as I do now,
To carve out dials quaintly24, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run:
How many makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings about27 the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times:
So many hours must I tend my flock,
So many hours must I take my rest,
So many hours must I contemplate,
So many hours must I sport34 myself,
So many days my ewes have been with young35,
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean36,
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, months and years,
Passed over to the end they39 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 silly43 sheep,
Than doth a rich embroidered canopy44
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery?
O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds47,
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,
His wonted49 sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure50 and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates51,
His viands52 sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious53 bed,
When care, mistrust and treason waits on54 him.
Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father, at one door, and a Father that hath killed his son at another door [with their bodies]
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 crowns57,
And I, that haply58 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 unwares62 have killed.
O heavy63 times, begetting such events!
From London by the king was I pressed64 forth.
My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man65,
Came on the part66 of York, pressed by his master.
And I, who at his hands received my life,
Have by my hands of life 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 flowed their fill.
KING HENRY VI O, piteous spectacle! O, bloody times!
Whiles lions war and battle for their dens,
Poor harmless lambs abide75 their enmity.
Weep, wretched man: I'll aid thee tear for tear,
And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,
Be blind with tears and break o'ercharged78 with grief.
[The]. Father [steps forward], bearing of his Son
FATHER Thou that so stoutly79 hath 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?
&nbs
p; Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!
Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,
Throw up85 thine eye! See, see what showers arise,
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,
Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart.
O, pity, God, this miserable age!
What stratagems89, how fell, how butcherly,
Erroneous90, 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 late93!
KING HENRY VI Woe above woe! Grief more than common grief!
O, that my death would stay these ruthful95 deeds!
O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!
The red rose and the white are on his face97,
The fatal colours of our striving houses:
The one his purple99 blood right well resembles,
The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth100.
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish.
If you contend102, a thousand lives must wither.
SON How will my mother for a father's death
Take on with104 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 woeful chances107
Misthink108 the king and not be satisfied!
SON Was ever son so rued109 a father's death?
FATHER Was ever father so bemoaned 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-sheet114,
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go.
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;
And so obsequious118 will thy father be,
E'en for the loss of thee, having no more,
As Priam was for all his valiant sons120.
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 overgone123 with care,
Here sits a king more woeful than you are.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the Prince and Exeter
PRINCE EDWARD Fly, father, fly! For all your friends are fled,
And Warwick rages like a chafed126 bull:
Away, for death doth hold us in pursuit.
QUEEN MARGARET Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick post amain128.
Edward and Richard, like a brace129 of greyhounds
Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes sparkling for very131 wrath,
And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain133.
EXETER Away, for vengeance comes along with them.
Nay, stay not to expostulate135, 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
[Act 2 Scene 6]
running scene 5 continues
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 fear5 glued many friends to thee,
And now I fall. Thy tough commixtures6 melts,
Impairing Henry, strength'ning misproud7 York,
The common people swarm like summer flies,
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun9?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies?
O Phoebus11, hadst thou never given consent
That Phaethon should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorched the earth!13
And, Henry, hadst thou swayed14 as kings should do,
Or as thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground16 unto the House of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies;
I and ten thousand in this luckless realm
Had left no mourning widows for our death,
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair20 in peace.
For what doth cherish21 weeds but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity?
Bootless are plaints23, 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 effuse28 of blood doth make me faint.
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest:
Faints
I stabbed your fathers' bosoms; split my breast.
Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard and Soldiers, Montague and Clarence [George]
EDWARD Now breathe31 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, filled with a fretting35 gust,
Command an argosy to stem36 the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?
WARWICK No, 'tis impossible he should escape,
For, though before his39 face I speak the words,
Your brother Richard marked40 him for the grave,
And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.
Clifford groans [and dies]
RICHARD Whose soul is that which takes her heavy42 leave?
A deadly groan, like life and death's departing43.
EDWARD See who it is. And now the battle's ended,
If friend or foe, let him be gently used45.
RICHARD Revoke that doom46 of mercy, for 'tis Clifford,
Who not contented that he lopped the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his murd'ring knife unto the root
From whence that tender spray50 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 room54:
Measure55 for measure must be answered.
EDWARD Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house56,
That nothing sung57 but death to us and ours:
Now death shall stop his dismal58 threat'ning sound,
And his ill-boding59 tongue no more shall speak.
WARWICK I think his understanding is bereft60.
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?
Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams62 of life,
And he nor63 sees nor hears us what we say.
RICHARD O, would he did, and so perhaps he doth.
'Tis but his policy65 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 eager68 words.
RICHARD Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.
EDWARD Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
WARWICK Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults71.
GEORGE While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.
RICHARD Tho
u didst love York, and I am son to York.
EDWARD Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee.
GEORGE Where's Captain Margaret to fence75 you now?
WARWICK They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont76.
RICHARD What, not an oath? Nay, then the world goes hard77
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 hours' life,
That I in all despite might rail81 at him,
This82 hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood
Stifle the villain whose unstanched83 thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
WARWICK Ay, but he's dead. Off with the traitor's head,
And rear86 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 cut89 the sea to France,
And ask the lady Bona90 for thy queen.
So shalt thou sinew91 both these lands together,
And having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
The scattered foe that hopes to rise again,
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buzz95 to offend thine ears.
First will I see the coronation,
And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea,
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.
EDWARD Even99 as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be,
For in thy shoulder do I build my seat100,
And never will I undertake the thing
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting102.
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 ominous107.
WARWICK Tut, that's a foolish observation.
Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London,
To see these honours in possession.
Exeunt
[Act 3 Scene 1]
running scene 6
Enter two Keepers with crossbows in their hands
FIRST KEEPER Under this thick-grown brake1 we'll shroud ourselves,