Alarum. Enter Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York ;
Edward; Richard; Norfolk; Montague; Warwick; and
Soldiers, all wearing the white rose.

WARWICK
I wonder how the King escaped our hands.
YORK
While we pursued the horsemen of the north,
He slyly stole away and left his men;
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheered 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 dangerous.
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.
That this is true, father, behold his blood.
He shows his bloody sword.
MONTAGUE , to York , showing his sword
And, brother, here’s the Earl of Wiltshire’s blood,
Whom I encountered as the battles joined.
RICHARD , holding up a severed head
Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.

---

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 onto a dais or platform.
WARWICK
And when the King comes, offer him no violence
Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.
Soldiers exit or retire out of sight.
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
Armed as we are, let’s stay within this house.
WARWICK
“ The Bloody Parliament ” shall this be called

---

Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king
And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice
Hath made us bywords 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.
York sits in the chair of state.

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland,
Westmorland, Exeter, and the rest, all wearing
the red rose.

KING HENRY
My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits,
Even in the chair of state! Belike he means,
Backed 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 vowed
revenge
On him, his sons, his favorites, and his friends.
NORTHUMBERLAND
If I be not, heavens be revenged on me!
CLIFFORD
The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.
WESTMORLAND
What, shall we suffer this? Let’s pluck him down.
My heart for anger burns. I cannot brook it.
KING HENRY
Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmorland.

---

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
Ah, know you not the city favors them,
And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?
EXETER
But when the Duke is slain, they’ll quickly fly.
KING HENRY
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
It was 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, that’s Richard, Duke of York.

---

KING HENRY , to York
And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne?
YORK
It must and shall be so. Content thyself.
WARWICK , to King Henry
Be Duke of Lancaster. Let him be king.
WESTMORLAND
He is both king and Duke of Lancaster,
And that the lord of Westmorland 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 colors spread,
Marched 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.
WESTMORLAND
Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,
Thy kinsmen, 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
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
The Lord Protector lost it and not I.
When I was crowned, 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 , to York
Good brother, as thou lov’st and honorest arms,
Let’s fight it out and not stand caviling thus.
RICHARD
Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly.
YORK Sons, peace!
KING HENRY
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
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 colors, 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
Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.
YORK
’Twas by rebellion against his king.
KING HENRY , 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
An if he may, then am I lawful king;
For Richard, in the view of many lords,
Resigned 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 unconstrained,
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
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 , aside
All will revolt from me and turn to him.
NORTHUMBERLAND , to York
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 defense.
May that ground gape and swallow me alive
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father.
KING HENRY
O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!
YORK
Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.—
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
WARWICK , to King Henry
Do right unto this princely Duke of York,
Or I will fill the house with armèd 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
My lord of Warwick, hear but one word:
Let me for this my lifetime reign as king.
YORK
Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs,
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv’st.
KING HENRY
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!
WESTMORLAND
Base, fearful, and despairing Henry!
CLIFFORD
How hast thou injured both thyself and us!
WESTMORLAND
I cannot stay to hear these articles.
NORTHUMBERLAND Nor I.
CLIFFORD
Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news.
WESTMORLAND
Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king,
In whose cold blood no spark of honor 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 abandoned and despised!
Westmorland , Northumberland, Clifford,
and their Soldiers exit.
WARWICK
Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not.
EXETER
They seek revenge and therefore will not yield.
KING HENRY
Ah, Exeter!
WARWICK Why should you sigh, my lord?
KING HENRY
Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son,
Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.
But be it as it may. ( To York. ) I here entail
The crown to thee and to thine heirs forever,
Conditionally, that here thou take an oath
To cease this civil war and, whilst I live,

---

To honor 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.
York stands, and King Henry ascends the dais.
KING HENRY , to York
And long live thou and these thy forward sons!
They embrace.
YORK
Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.
EXETER
Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes.
Sennet. Here they come down.
YORK , to King Henry
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.
York , Edward, Richard, Warwick, Norfolk,
Montague, and their Soldiers exit.
KING HENRY
And I with grief and sorrow to the court.

Enter Queen Margaret , with Prince Edward.

EXETER
Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her
anger.
I’ll steal away.
KING HENRY Exeter, so will I.
They begin to exit.

---

QUEEN MARGARET
Nay, go not from me. I will follow thee.
KING HENRY
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 nourished him as I did with my blood,
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood
there,
Rather than have made 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
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 giv’n 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 sepulcher
And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Callice;
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 environèd with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honor.
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of Parliament be repealed
Whereby my son is disinherited.
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colors
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
Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET
Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone.
KING HENRY
Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
QUEEN MARGARET
Ay, to be murdered 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.
Queen Margaret and Prince Edward exit.
KING HENRY
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, wingèd 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.
Flourish. They exit.

Enter Richard, Edward, and Montague,
all wearing the white rose.

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 the Duke of 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 linger 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 employed, 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 com’st 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. He exits.
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.
Montague exits.

Enter Sir John Mortimer, and his brother,
Sir Hugh Mortimer.

YORK
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.

---

SIR JOHN
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
Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one.
Why should I not now have the like success?
Alarum. They exit.

Enter Rutland and his Tutor.

RUTLAND
Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands?

Enter Clifford with Soldiers, all wearing the red rose.

Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes.
CLIFFORD
Chaplain, away. Thy priesthood saves thy life.
As for the brat of this accursèd 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.
He exits, dragged off by Soldiers.
CLIFFORD , approaching Rutland
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 threat’ning 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 stopped 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 I thy brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge sufficient for me.
No, if I digged up thy forefathers’ graves
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not 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 accursèd line
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore— He raises his rapier.

---

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 offense
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
CLIFFORD
No cause? Thy father slew my father; therefore die.
He stabs Rutland.
RUTLAND
Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! He dies.
CLIFFORD
Plantagenet, I come, Plantagenet!
And this thy son’s blood, cleaving to my blade,
Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood,
Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both.
He exits, with Soldiers carrying off Rutland’s body.

Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of York, wearing the
white rose.

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-starvèd wolves.
My sons, God knows what hath bechancèd them;
But this I know: they have demeaned themselves
Like men borne 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 encountered 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 scepter or an earthly sepulcher!”
With this we charged again; but, out alas,
We budged again, as I have seen a swan
With bootless labor 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 numbered that makes up my life.
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

Enter Queen Margaret , Clifford, Northumberland,
the young Prince Edward , and Soldiers,
all wearing the red rose.

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 showed unto my father.
Now Phaëton 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’errun my former time;
And, if thou 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 buckler with thee blows twice two for one.
QUEEN MARGARET
Hold, valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes
I would prolong a while the traitor’s life.—
Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Hold, Clifford, do not honor him so much
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart.
What valor 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 valor.
They attack York.

---

CLIFFORD
Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
NORTHUMBERLAND
So doth the coney struggle in the net.
YORK
So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty;
So true men yield with robbers, so o’ermatched.
York is overcome.
NORTHUMBERLAND , to Queen Margaret
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 outstretchèd arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
They place York on a small prominence.
What, was it you that would be England’s king?
Was ’t you that reveled 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 crookback prodigy,
Dickie, 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 stained 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.
She gives him a bloody cloth.
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 parched 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 would’st be fee’d, I see, to make me sport.—
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown.
A crown for York! She is handed a paper crown.
And, lords, bow low to him.
Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on.
She puts the crown on York’s 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 crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath?—
As I bethink me, you should not be king
Till our King Henry had shook hands with Death.
And will you 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, let’s 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 cam’st, 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 wondered 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 wrapped in a woman’s hide,
How couldst thou drain the lifeblood 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.
Bidd’st 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 , aside
Beshrew me, but his passions moves me so
That hardly can I check my eyes from tears.

---

YORK
That face of his the hungry cannibals
Would not have touched, would not have stained
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 dipped’st in blood of my sweet boy,
And I with tears do wash the blood away.
He hands her the cloth.
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.”
He hands her the paper crown.
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 slaughterman 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 , stabbing York twice
Here’s for my oath; here’s for my father’s death!
QUEEN MARGARET , stabbing York
And here’s to right our gentle-hearted king.
YORK
Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God.

---

My soul flies through these wounds to seek out Thee.
He dies.
QUEEN MARGARET
Off with his head, and set it on York gates,
So York may overlook the town of York.
Flourish. They exit, Soldiers carrying York’s body.

A march. Enter Edward, Richard, and their power,
all wearing the white rose.

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 watched 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 encompassed round with dogs,
Who having pinched 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,
Trimmed 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 severed in a pale clear-shining sky.
See, see, they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
As if they vowed 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 overshine 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, blowing.

But what art thou whose heavy looks foretell
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?
MESSENGER
Ah, one that was a woeful looker-on
Whenas 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
Environèd he was with many foes,
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy
Against the Greeks that would have entered Troy.
But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
And many strokes, though with a little axe,
Hews down and fells the hardest-timbered oak.
By many hands your father was subdued,
But only slaughtered by the ireful arm
Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen,
Who crowned the gracious duke in high despite,
Laughed in his face; and when with grief he wept,
The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks
A napkin steepèd 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 viewed. He exits.
EDWARD
Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon,
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.
O Clifford, boist’rous Clifford, thou hast slain
The flower of Europe for his chivalry;
And treacherously hast thou vanquished him,
For hand to hand he would have vanquished thee.
Now my soul’s palace is become a prison;
Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body
Might in the ground be closèd up in rest,
For never henceforth shall I joy again.
Never, O never, shall I see more joy! He weeps.
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 burden,
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 renownèd 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, Marquess Montague, and their
army, all wearing the white rose.

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 thee dearly as his soul’s redemption
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
WARWICK
Ten days ago I drowned 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,
Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends,
Marched toward Saint Albans to intercept the
Queen,
Bearing the King in my behalf along;
For by my scouts I was advertisèd
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 Albans met,
Our battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought.
But whether ’twas the coldness of the King,
Who looked full gently on his warlike queen,
That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen,
Or whether ’twas report of her success
Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigor,
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 cheered them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay and great rewards,
But all in vain; they had no heart to fight,
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, posthaste, 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 scepter 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 make me speak.
But in this troublous time, what’s to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
Numb’ring our Ave Marys 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 enrollèd 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,
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 proclaimed
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!
They all exit.

Flourish. Enter King Henry , Queen Margaret ,
Clifford, Northumberland, and young Prince Edward ,
all wearing the red rose with Drum and Trumpets,
the head of York fixed above them.

QUEEN MARGARET , to King Henry
Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York.
Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy
That sought to be encompassed with your crown.
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?
KING HENRY
Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wrack!
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 did level at thy crown,
Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows.
He, but a duke, would have his son a king
And raise his issue like a loving sire;
Thou being a king, 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 climbed unto their nest,
Offering their own lives in their young’s defense?
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 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
Full well hath Clifford played 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 thousandfold more care to keep
Than in possession any 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. He kneels.
KING HENRY , dubbing him knight
Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight,
And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right.
PRINCE EDWARD , rising
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.
Deraign your battle, for they are at hand. He exits.
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
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 defense.
Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry “Saint
George!”

March. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard,
George , Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers,
all wearing the white rose.

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, crookback, here I stand to answer thee,
Or any he, the proudest of thy sort.

---

RICHARD
’Twas you that killed 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 sayst 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 Albans 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 valor, 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-swoll’n 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
Have done with words, my lords, and hear me
speak.

---

QUEEN MARGARET
Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.
KING HENRY
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 today
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 armor on.
PRINCE EDWARD
If that be right which Warwick says is right,
There is no wrong, but everything 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 misshapen stigmatic,
Marked 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 called the sea,

---

Sham’st thou not, knowing whence thou art
extraught,
To let thy tongue detect thy baseborn 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 wronged
By that false woman as this king by thee.
His father reveled in the heart of France,
And tamed the King, and made the Dauphin stoop;
And had he matched 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 brewed a shower for him
That washed his father’s fortunes forth of France
And heaped sedition on his crown at home.
For what hath broached this tumult but thy pride?
Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept,
And we, in pity of the gentle king,
Had slipped 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 denied’st the gentle king to speak.—

---

Sound, trumpets! Let our bloody colors 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.
They all exit.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwick,
wearing the white rose.

WARWICK , lying down
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 robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength;
And spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.

Enter Edward, wearing the white rose, running.

EDWARD
Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death,
For this world frowns and Edward’s sun is clouded.

Enter George , wearing the white rose.

WARWICK , standing
How now, my lord, what hap? What hope of good?
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, wearing the white rose.

RICHARD
Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?
Thy brother’s blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
Broached with the steely point of Clifford’s lance,
And in the very pangs of death he cried,
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,
“Warwick, revenge! Brother, revenge my death!”
So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stained 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 played in jest by counterfeiting actors?
He 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 measure of revenge.
EDWARD
O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine,
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine
He kneels.
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 Thy will it stands
That to my foes this body must be prey,
Yet that Thy brazen gates of heaven may ope
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul.
Edward and Warwick stand.

---

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 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.
They exit.

Excursions. Enter, at separate doors, Richard wearing
the white rose, and Clifford, wearing the red rose.

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 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 thee!

They fight; Warwick comes; Clifford flies.

RICHARD
Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase,
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.
They exit.

Alarum. Enter King Henry alone, wearing the red rose.

KING HENRY
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 conquerèd.
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
He sits on a small prominence.
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 makes the hour full complete,
How many hours brings 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,
Passed 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 embroidered canopy
To kings that fear their subjects’ treachery?
O yes, it doth, a thousandfold 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 couchèd in a curious bed—
When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.

Alarum. Enter at one door a Son that hath killed his
Father, carrying the body.

---

SON
Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
May be possessèd 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 killed.
O heavy times, begetting such events!
From London by the King was I pressed forth.
My father, being the Earl of Warwick’s man,
Came on the part of York, pressed by his master.
And I, who at his hands received my life,
Have by my hands of life bereavèd him.
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did;
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.
He weeps.
KING HENRY
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 at another door a Father that hath killed his Son,
bearing of his Son’s body.

FATHER
Thou that so stoutly 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?
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 wounds, that kills 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
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 colors 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
How will the country for these woeful chances
Misthink the King and not be satisfied!
SON
Was ever son so rued a father’s death?
FATHER
Was ever father so bemoaned his son?
KING HENRY
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.
He exits, bearing the body.
FATHER
These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulcher,
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
E’en 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.
He exits, bearing the body.
KING HENRY
Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care,
Here sits a king more woeful than you are.

Alarums. Excursions. Enter Queen Margaret , Prince
Edward , and Exeter, all wearing the red rose.

PRINCE EDWARD
Fly, father, fly, for all your friends are fled,
And Warwick rages like a chafèd 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 grasped 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
Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter;
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away!
They exit.

A loud alarum. Enter Clifford,
wearing the red rose, 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 commixtures melts,
Impairing Henry, strength’ning misproud York;
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 Phaëton should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorched the Earth!
And Henry, hadst thou swayed 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, no 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 stabbed your fathers’ bosoms; split my breast.
He faints.

Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick,
Richard, and Soldiers, Montague, and George ,
all wearing the white rose.

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 filled 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 marked 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 heavy leave?
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 lopped the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his murd’ring 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 placèd there;
Instead whereof let this supply the room.
Measure for measure must be answerèd.
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 threat’ning 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 but two hours’ 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 unstaunchèd 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 crownèd 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 scattered 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 honors in possession.
They exit, with Clifford’s body.

Enter two Gamekeepers,
with crossbows in their hands.

FIRST GAMEKEEPER
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 GAMEKEEPER
I’ll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER
That cannot be. The noise of thy crossbow
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 GAMEKEEPER
Here comes a man; let’s stay till he be past.

Enter King Henry , in disguise, with a prayer book.

KING HENRY
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 filled, thy scepter wrung from thee,

---

Thy balm washed 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 an not myself?
FIRST GAMEKEEPER , aside to Second Gamekeeper
Ay, here’s a deer whose skin’s a keeper’s fee.
This is the quondam king. Let’s seize upon him.
KING HENRY
Let me embrace the sour adversaries,
For wise men say it is the wisest course.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER , aside to First Gamekeeper
Why linger we? Let us lay hands upon him.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER , aside to Second Gamekeeper
Forbear awhile; we’ll hear a little more.
KING HENRY
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 labor 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 batt’ry 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 installed;
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 GAMEKEEPER
Say, what art thou that talk’st of kings and queens?
KING HENRY
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 GAMEKEEPER
Ay, but thou talk’st as if thou wert a king.
KING HENRY
Why, so I am in mind, and that’s enough.
SECOND GAMEKEEPER
But if thou be a king, where is thy crown?
KING HENRY
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 GAMEKEEPER
Well, if you be a king crowned 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
But did you never swear and break an oath?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER
No, never such an oath, nor will not now.

---

KING HENRY
Where did you dwell when I was King of England?
SECOND GAMEKEEPER
Here in this country, where we now remain.
KING HENRY
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 GAMEKEEPER
No, for we were subjects but while you were king.
KING HENRY
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 GAMEKEEPER
We are true subjects to the King, King Edward.
KING HENRY
So would you be again to Henry
If he were seated as King Edward is.
FIRST GAMEKEEPER
We charge you in God’s name and the King’s
To go with us unto the officers.
KING HENRY
In God’s name, lead. Your king’s name be obeyed,
And what God will, that let your king perform.
And what he will, I humbly yield unto.
They exit.

Enter King Edward, Richard , Duke of Gloucester,
George , Duke of Clarence, Lady Grey,
and Attendants.

KING EDWARD
Brother of Gloucester, at Saint Albans field
This lady’s husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slain,
His land 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.
RICHARD
Your Highness shall do well to grant her suit;
It were dishonor to deny it her.
KING EDWARD
It were no less, but yet I’ll make a pause.
RICHARD , 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 , formerly GEORGE , aside to Richard
He knows the game; how true he keeps the wind!
RICHARD , aside to Clarence Silence!
KING EDWARD
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.
RICHARD , 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 Richard
I fear her not, unless she chance to fall.
RICHARD , aside to Clarence
God forbid that, for he’ll take vantages.
KING EDWARD
How many children hast thou, widow? Tell me.
CLARENCE , aside to Richard
I think he means to beg a child of her.
RICHARD , aside to Clarence
Nay, then, whip me; he’ll rather give her two.
LADY GREY Three, my most gracious lord.
RICHARD , aside to Clarence
You shall have four if you’ll be ruled by him.
KING EDWARD
’Twere pity they should lose their father’s lands.
LADY GREY
Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then.
KING EDWARD
Lords, give us leave. I’ll try this widow’s wit.
Richard and Clarence stand aside.
RICHARD , aside to Clarence
Ay, good leave have you, for you will have leave
Till youth take leave and leave you to the crutch.
KING EDWARD
Now tell me, madam, do you love your children?
LADY GREY
Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
KING EDWARD
And would you not do much to do them good?
LADY GREY
To do them good I would sustain some harm.
KING EDWARD
Then get your husband’s lands to do them good.
LADY GREY
Therefore I came unto your Majesty.

---

KING EDWARD
I’ll tell you how these lands are to be got.
LADY GREY
So shall you bind me to your Highness’ service.
KING EDWARD
What service wilt thou do me if I give them?
LADY GREY
What you command that rests in me to do.
KING EDWARD
But you will take exceptions to my boon.
LADY GREY
No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it.
KING EDWARD
Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask.
LADY GREY
Why, then, I will do what your Grace commands.
RICHARD , aside to Clarence
He plies her hard, and much rain wears the marble.
CLARENCE , aside to Richard
As red as fire! Nay, then, her wax must melt.
LADY GREY
Why stops my lord? Shall I not hear my task?
KING EDWARD
An easy task; ’tis but to love a king.
LADY GREY
That’s soon performed because I am a subject.
KING EDWARD
Why, then, thy husband’s lands I freely give thee.
LADY GREY
I take my leave with many thousand thanks.
She curtsies and begins to exit.
RICHARD , aside to Clarence
The match is made; she seals it with a cursy.
KING EDWARD
But stay thee; ’tis the fruits of love I mean.

---

LADY GREY
The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege.
KING EDWARD
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
No, by my troth, I did not mean such love.
LADY GREY
Why, then, you mean not as I thought you did.
KING EDWARD
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
To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee.
LADY GREY
To tell you plain, I had rather lie in prison.
KING EDWARD
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
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
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.
RICHARD , aside to Clarence
The widow likes him not; she knits her brows.
CLARENCE , aside to Richard
He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom.
KING EDWARD , aside
Her looks doth argue her replete with modesty;
Her words doth 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
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
You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen.
LADY GREY
’Twill grieve your Grace my sons should call you
father.
KING EDWARD
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.

---

RICHARD , aside to Clarence
The ghostly father now hath done his shrift.
CLARENCE , aside to Richard
When he was made a shriver, ’twas for shift.
KING EDWARD
Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had.
RICHARD
The widow likes it not, for she looks very sad.
KING EDWARD
You’d think it strange if I should marry her.
CLARENCE
To who, my lord?
KING EDWARD Why, Clarence, to myself.
RICHARD
That would be ten days’ wonder at the least.
CLARENCE
That’s a day longer than a wonder lasts.
RICHARD
By so much is the wonder in extremes.
KING EDWARD
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
See that he be conveyed unto the Tower.
Nobleman exits.
And go we, brothers, to the man that took him,
To question of his apprehension.—
Widow, go you along.—Lords, use her honorably .
They exit.
Richard remains.

---

RICHARD
Ay, Edward will use women honorably!
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 burièd,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his son, young Edward,
And all the unlooked-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 withered 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 unlicked bear-whelp,
That carries no impression like the dam.
And am I then a man to be beloved?
O monstrous fault to harbor such a thought!
Then, since this Earth affords no joy to me
But to command, to check, 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, t’ account this world but hell
Until my misshaped trunk that bears this head
Be round impalèd 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 rents 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 slyly than Ulysses could,
And, like a Sinon, take another Troy.
I can add colors 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.
He exits.

Flourish. Enter Lewis the French king, his sister
the Lady Bona, his Admiral called Bourbon,
Prince Edward, Queen Margaret, and the Earl of Oxford,
the last three wearing the red rose.

Lewis sits, and riseth up again.

KING LEWIS
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 dishonor laid me on the ground,
Where I must take like seat unto my fortune
And to my humble seat conform myself.
KING LEWIS
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 drowned in cares.

---

KING LEWIS
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 banished 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 treasure seized, our soldiers put to flight,
And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.
KING LEWIS
Renownèd 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
The more I stay, the more I’ll succor thee.
QUEEN MARGARET
O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.

---

Enter Warwick, wearing the white rose.

And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.
KING LEWIS
What’s he approacheth boldly to our presence?
QUEEN MARGARET
Our Earl of Warwick, Edward’s greatest friend.
KING LEWIS , standing
Welcome, brave Warwick. What brings thee to France?
He descends. She ariseth.
QUEEN MARGARET , aside
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 vowèd friend,
I come in kindness and unfeignèd love,
First, to do greetings to thy royal person,
And then to crave a league of amity,
And, lastly, to confirm that amity
With 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 , speaking to Lady Bona
And, gracious madam, in our king’s behalf,
I am commanded, with your leave and favor,
Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue
To tell the passion of my sovereign’s heart,
Where fame, late ent’ring 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 dishonor;
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile,
Yet heav’ns 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 art 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 conquerèd 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 the 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 mellowed years,
When nature brought him to the door of death?
No, Warwick, no. While life upholds this arm,
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.
WARWICK And I the house of York.
KING LEWIS
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 , aside
Heavens grant that Warwick’s words bewitch him
not.
KING LEWIS
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 honor.
KING LEWIS
But is he gracious in the people’s eye?
WARWICK
The more that Henry was unfortunate.
KING LEWIS
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 fixed in virtue’s ground,
The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty’s sun,
Exempt from envy but not from disdain,
Unless the Lady Bona quit his pain.
KING LEWIS
Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve.
LADY BONA
Your grant or your denial shall be mine.
( Speaks 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
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
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 promisèd.

---

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,
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 blowing a horn within.
KING LEWIS
Warwick, this is some post to us or thee.

Enter the Post.

POST speaks to Warwick.
My lord ambassador, these letters are for you,
Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague.
( To Lewis. ) These from our king unto your Majesty.
( To Margaret. ) And, madam, these for you—from
whom, I know not. They all read their letters.
OXFORD , aside
I like it well that our fair queen and mistress
Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.
PRINCE EDWARD , aside
Nay, mark how Lewis stamps as he were nettled.
I hope all’s for the best.
KING LEWIS
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
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 th’ 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 dishonors 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 th’ abuse done to my niece?
Did I impale him with the regal crown?
Did I put Henry from his native right?
And am I guerdoned at the last with shame?
Shame on himself, for my desert is honor!
And to repair my honor lost for him,
I here renounce him and return to Henry.
He removes the white rose.
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 turned my hate to love,
And I forgive and quite forget old faults,
And joy that thou becom’st King Henry’s friend.

---

WARWICK
So much his friend, ay, his unfeignèd 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 honor,
Or than for strength and safety of our country.
LADY BONA
Dear brother, how shall Bona be revenged
But by thy help to this distressèd queen?
QUEEN MARGARET
Renownèd prince, how shall poor Henry live
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?
LADY BONA
My quarrel and this English queen’s are one.
WARWICK
And mine, fair Lady Bona, joins with yours.
KING LEWIS
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
Then, England’s messenger, return in post,
And tell false Edward, thy supposèd king,
That Lewis of France is sending over maskers
To revel it with him and his new bride.
Thou seest what’s passed; go fear thy king withal.
LADY BONA
Tell him, in hope he’ll prove a widower shortly,
I wear the willow garland for his sake.

---

QUEEN MARGARET
Tell him my mourning weeds are laid aside
And I am ready to put armor 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. Gives money.
Be gone. Post exits.
KING LEWIS 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
Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied,
And thou, Lord Bourbon, our High Admiral,
Shall waft them over with our royal fleet.
I long till Edward fall by war’s mischance
For mocking marriage with a dame of France.

---

All but Warwick exit.
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.
He exits.