(SCENE I.)

Enter RICHARD Duke of YORK, the Earl of WARWICK, the Duke of NORFOLK, Marquis MONTAGUE, EDWARD Earl of MARCH, then Crook-back RICHARD, and the young Earl of RUTLAND, with drum and Soldiers, with white roses in their hats.

War. I wonder how the king escap'd our hands. York. Whilst we pursued the horsemen of the north,

He slily stole away, and left his men:
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Charg'd our main battle's front, and there with him
Lord Stafford and lord Clifford, all abreast,
Brake in, and were by the hands of common soldiers
slain.

Edw. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buckingham,
Is either slain or wounded dangerously:
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow:
Father, that this is true, behold his blood.

Mont. And, brother, here's the earl of Wiltshire's blood,

Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.
Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.

[Throws down the Duke of SOMERSET's head, York. What, is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset?

Norf. Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt!

Rich. Thus do I hope to shape king Henry ́s head. War. 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 that fearful king, And that the regal chair: possess it, York, For this is thine, and not king Henry's heirs.

York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will: For hither are we broken in by force.

Norf. We'll all assist thee, and he that flies shall die.

York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords;

And, soldiers, stay you here, and lodge this night. War. And when the king comes offer him no violence,

Unless he seek to put us out by force.

Rich, Arm'd as we be, let's stay within this house. War. The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, Unless Plantagenet, duke of York, be king, And bashful Henry be depos'd, whose cowardice Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

York. Then leave me not, my lords: for now I mean To take possession of my right.

War. Neither the king, nor him that loves him best, The proudest bird that holds up Lancaster, Dare stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. I'll plant Plantagenet, and root him out who dares! Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.

Enter KING HENRY the Sixth, with the Duke of EXETER, the Earl of NORTHUMBERLAND, the Earl of WESTMORELAND, and CLIFFORD the Earl of CUMBERLAND, with red roses in their hats.

King. Look, lordings, where the sturdy rebel sits, Even in the chair of state! belike, he means (Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer) To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king. Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father, And thine, Clifford and you both have vow'd revenge,

On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.

North. And if I be not, heaven be reveng'd on me. Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.

West. What, shall we suffer this? Let's pull him down.

My heart for anger breaks, I cannot speak.
King. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland.
Clif. Patience is for póltroons, such as he;
He durst not sit there had your father liv`d.
My gracious lord, here in the parliament
Let us assail the family of York.

North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin; be it so. King. O, know you not the city favours them, And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? Eret. But when the duke is slain they'll quickly fly.

King. Far be it from the thoughts of Henry's heart, To make a shambles of the parliament house: Cousin of Exeter, words, frowns, and threats, Shall be the wars that Henry means to use. Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne, I am thy sovereign.

York. Thou art deceiv'd, I am thine.

Exet. For shame come down, he made thee duke of York.

York. Twas my inheritance, as the kingdom is. Exet. Thy father was a traitor to the crown. War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown, In following this usurping Henry.

Clif. Whom should he follow but his natural king? War. True, Clifford, and that's Richard, duke of York.

King. And shall I stand while thou sitt st in my

throne?

York. Content thyself; it must and shall be so.
War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king.
West. Why, he is both king and duke of Lan-
caster;

And that the earl of Westmoreland shall maintain.
War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget
That we are those that chas'd you from the field,
And slew your father, and with colours spread
March'd through the city to the palace gates.

North. No, Warwick, I remember 't to my grief:
And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
West. Plantagenet, of thee, and of thy sons,
Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives,
Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.

Clif. Urge it no more, lest in revenge thereof,
I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger,
As shall revenge his death before I stir.

War. Poor Clifford, how I scorn thy worthless threats!

York. Will ye we show our title to the crown, Or else our swords shall plead it in the field?

King. 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 tam'd the
French,

And made the dauphin stoop, and seiz'd upon
Their towns and provinces.

War. Talk not of France, since thou hast lost it all.
King. The lord protector lost it, and not I;
When I was crown'd I was but nine months old.
Rich. You're old enough now, and yet methinks
you lose:

Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head.

Edw. Do so, sweet father; set it on your head. Mont. Good brother, as thou lov`st and honour'st arms,

Let's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. Rich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the king will fly.

York. Peace, sons.

Suppose by right and equity thou be king;
Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly seat,
Wherein my father and my grandsire sate?
No, first shall war unpeople this my realm;
Ay, and our colours often borne in France,
And now in England (to our heart's great sorrow).
Shall be my winding sheet. Why faint you, lords?
My title's better far than his.

War. Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. King. Why, Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.

York. 'Twas by rebellion 'gainst his sovereign. King. I know not what to say; my title's weak. Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?

War. What then?

King. Then am I lawful king. For Richard
The Second, in the view of many lords,
Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth;
Whose heir my father was, and I am his.

York. I tell thee, he rose against him, being his sovereign,

And made him to resign the crown perforce.
War. Suppose, my lord, he did it unconstrain'd,
Think you that were prejudicial to the crown?

Eret. No; for he could not so resign the crown But that the next heir must succeed and reign. King. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter? Eret. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. King. All will revolt from me, and turn to him. North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay st, Think not king Henry shall be thus depos'd.

War. Depos'd he shall be in despite of thee.
North. Tush, Warwick, thou art deceiv'd:

'Tis not thy southern powers of Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk,

And Kent, that makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,

Can set the duke up in despite of me.

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

King. O, Clifford, how thy words revive my soul!
York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
War. Do right unto this princely duke of York,
Or I will fill the house with armed men,

Enter Soldiers.

And over the chair of state, where now he sits,
Write up his title with thy usurping blood.
King. O, Warwick, hear me speak:
Let me but reign in quiet while I live.

York. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs,
And thou shalt reign in quiet whilst thou liv'st.
King. Convey the soldiers hence, and then I will.
War. Captain, conduct them into Tuthill fields.
Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince your
son!

War. What good is this for England and himself! North. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry! Clif. How hast thou wronged both thyself and us! West. I cannot stay to hear these articles. Erit. Clif. Nor I. Come, cousin, let's go tell the queen. North. Be thou a prey unto the house of York, And die in bands for this unkindly deed. [Erit. Clif. In dreadful war may'st thou be overcome, Or live in peace, abandon'd and despis'd. [Exit. Eret. They seek revenge, and therefore will not yield, my lord.

Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me,
And given our rights unto the house of York.
Art thou a king, and wilt be forc'd to yield?
Had I been there, the soldiers should have toss'd
Me on their lances' points before I would have
Granted to their wills. The duke is made
Protector of the land: stern Faulconbridge
Commands the narrow seas: and think'st thou then
To sleep secure? I here divorce me, Henry,
From thy bed, until that act of parliament

Be recall'd, wherein thou yieldest to the house of
York.

The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread;
And spread they shall unto thy deep disgrace.
Come, son, let's away, and leave him here alone.

King. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. Queen. Thou hast spoke too much already, therefore be still.

King. Gentle son Edward, wilt thou stay with me? Queen. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies.

[Erit. Prince. When I return with victory from the field, I'll see your grace: till then I'll follow her. [Erit. King. Poor queen, her love to me and to the prince her son

Makes her in fury thus to forget herself.
Revenged may she be on that accursed duke.
Come, cousin of Exeter, stay thou here,

For Clifford and those northern lords be gone,
I fear towards Wakefield, to disturb the duke.

(SCENE II.)

Enter EDWARD, and RICHARD, and MONTAGUE. Edw. Brother, and cousin Montague, give me leave to speak.

I'll show your grace the way to save your oath,
And dispossess king Henry from the crown.

York, I prithee, Dick, let me hear thy device.
Rich. Then thus, my lord. An oath is of no mo-
ment,

Being not sworn before a lawful magistrate.
Henry is none, but doth usurp your right,
And yet your grace stands bound to him by oath.
Then, noble father, resolve yourself,

And once more claim the crown.

York. Ay, say'st thou so, boy? Why then it shall

be so.

I am resolv'd to win the crown, or die.
Edward, thou shalt to Edmund Brooke, lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise.
Thou, cousin Montague, shalt to Norfolk straight,
And bid the duke to muster up his soldiers,
And come to me to Wakefield presently.
And Richard, thou to London straight shall post,
And bid Richard Nevill, earl of Warwick,
To leave the city, and with his men of war
To meet me at St. Alban's ten days hence.
Myself here, in Sandal castle, will provide
Both men and money to further our attempts.
Now, what news?

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, the queen with thirty thousand

men,

Accompanied with the earls of Cumberland,
Northumberland, and Westmoreland,
With others of the house of Lancaster,
Are marching towards Wakefield,

To besiege you in your castle here.

Enter Sir JOHN and Sir HUGH MORTIMER.
York. A God's name let them come.
Cousin Montague, post you hence.
And, boys, stay you with me.

Sir John and sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
You 're welcome to Sandal in a happy hour.
The army of the queen means to besiege us.
Sir John. She shall not need, my lord,
We 'll meet her in the field.

York. What! with five thousand soldiers, uncle
Rich. Ay, father, with five hundred for a need.
A woman 's general! what should you fear?
York. Indeed,

Many brave battles have I won in Normandy,
When as the enemy hath been ten to one,
And why should I now doubt of the like success?

I am resolv'd. Come, let 's go.

Edu. Let's march away, I hear their drums.

[Exeunt.

(SCENE III.)

Alarums, and then enter the young Earl of RUTLAND and his Tutor.

Tutor. Oh, fly, my lord, let 's leave the castle, And fly to Wakefield straight.

Enter CLIFFORD.

Rut. O, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes. Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.

As for the brat of that accursed duke

Whose father slew my father, he shall die.

Tutor. O, Clifford, spare this tender lord, lest heaven

Revenge it on thy head: O, save his life.

Clif. Soldiers, away, and drag him hence perforce: Away with the villain! [Erit Chaplain. How now? what, dead already? or is it fear That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them. Rut. So looks the pent-up lion on the lamb, And so he walks insulting o'er his prey,

And so he turns again to rend his limbs in sunder: O, Clifford, kill me with thy sword,

And not with such a cruel threat ning look.

I am too mean a subject for thy wrath;

Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy, my father's blood

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.
Rut. Then let my father's blood ope it again;
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine Were not revenge sufficient for me;

Or should I dig up thy forefathers' graves,
And hang 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.
Therefore till I root out that cursed line,
And leave not one on earth, I live in hell;
Therefore-

Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death.
To thee I pray sweet Clifford, pity me.

Clif. Ay, such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee hurt; wherefore wilt thou kill me?

But God knows what chance hath betide my sons:
But this I know, they have demean'd themselves
Like men born to renown, by life, or death.
Three times this day came Richard to my sight,
And cried Courage, father: victory or death!'
And twice so oft came Edward to my view,
With purple faulchion, painted to the hilts
In blood of those whom he had slaughtered.
O, hark, I hear the drums. No way to fly;
No way to save my life; and here I stay:
And here my life must end.

Enter the QUEEN, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, and the Soldiers.

Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchless fury to more blood:
This is the butt, and this abides your shot.

North. Yield to our mercies, proud Plantagenet.
Clif. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthful arm
With downright payment lent unto my father.
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.

York. My ashes, like the phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge it on you all:

And in that hope I cast mine eyes to heaven,
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.
Why stay you, lords? What! multitudes, and fear?
Clif. So cowards fight when they can fly no longer;
So doves do peck the raven's piercing talons;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.

York. O, Clifford, yet bethink thee once again,
And in thy mind o'errun my former time;
And bite thy tongue, that slanderest him with cow-
ardice,

Whose very look hath made thee quake ere this.
Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word,
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.
Queen. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand

causes

I would prolong the traitor's life awhile:-
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou Northumberland.
North, Hold, Clifford; do not honour him so much
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:
What valour were it when a cur doth grin
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn him with his foot away?
'T is war's prize to take all advantages,
And ten to one is no impeach in wars.

[Fight, and take him. Clif. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. North. So doth the coney struggle with the net. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd

booty;

So true men yield, by robbers overmatch'd.

North. What will your grace have done with him? Queen. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumber

land,

Come make him stand upon this mole-hill here,
That aim'd at mountains with outstretched arm,
And parted but the shadow with his hand.
Was 't you that revell'd in our parliament,
And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George?
Or where 's that valiant crook-back'd prodigy,
Dicky, your boy, that, with his grumbling voice,
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?

Or, mongst the rest, where is your darling Rutland ?
Look, York, I dipp'd this napkin in the blood

That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point,
Made issue from the bosom of thy boy:
And, if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas! poor York: but that I hate thee much,
I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee grieve to make me merry, York;
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?
Thou wouldst be feed, I see, to make me sport;
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown.---
A crown for York, and, lords, bow low to him.
So, hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.
Ay, now looks he like a king.

This is he that took king Henry's chair,
And this is he was his adopted heir.
But how is it that great Plantagenet

Is crown'd so soon, and broke his holy oath?
As I bethink me, you should not be king

Till our Henry had shook hands with death.
And will you impale your head with Henry's glory,
And rob his temples of the diadem
Now in his life, against your holy oath?
Oh, '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.
Chf. That is my office for my father's death.
Queen. Yet stay, and let's hear the orisons he
makes.

York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,

Whose tongue's more poison'd than the adder's tooth! How ill beseeming is it in thy sex

To triumph like an Amazonian trull,

Upon his woes whom fortune captivates!
But that thy face is, visard-like, unchanging,

Made impudent by use of evil deeds,

I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush: To tell thee of whence thou art, from whom deriv'd, 'T 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, or it boots thee not, proud queen,
Unless the adage must be verified,
That beggars mounted run their horse to death.
'Tis beauty that oft makes women proud;
But, God he wots, thy share thereof is small:
'Tis government that makes them most admir'd;
The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at:
'Tis virtue 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 wrapp'd in a woman's hide!
How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child,
To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
And yet be seen to bear a woman's face?
Women are mild, pitiful, and flexible,
Thou indurate, stern, rough, remorseless.
Bidd 'st thou me rage? why now thou hast thy will.
Wouldst have me weep? why so, thou hast thy wish.
For raging winds blow up a storm of tears,
And when the rage allays the rain begins.
These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies;
And every drop begs vengeance as it falls,

On thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.
North. Beshrew me but his passions move me so
As hardly I can check mine eyes from tears.

York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Could not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood;

But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,
O ten times more than tigers of Arcadia.
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears!
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy,
And lo, with tears I wash the blood away.
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of that,
And if thou tell the story well,

Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears,
Ay, even my foes will shed fast falling tears,
And say, alas, it was a piteous deed.
Here, 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 hands.
Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world;
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads.

North. Had he been slaughterman of all my kin
I could not choose but weep with him, to see
How inward anger gripes his heart.

Queen. What, weeping ripe, my lord Northumberland?

Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry your melting tears. Clif. There's for my oath, there 's for my father's death. [Stabs him.

Queen. And there's to right our gentle-hearted

kind.

York. Open thy gates of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies forth to meet with thee.

[Stabs him.

[Dies.

Queen. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York.

[Exeunt omnes.

(SCENE I.)

Enter EDWARD and RICHARD, with drum and Soldiers.

Edw. After this dangerous fight and hapless war, How doth my noble brother Richard fare?

Rich. I cannot joy until I be resolv'd
Where our right valiant father is become.
How often did I see him bear himself
As doth a lion midst a herd of neat ;

So fled the enemies from our valiant father;

Methinks 't is pride enough to be his son.

[Three suns appear in the air. Edw. Lo, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns?

Rich. Three glorious suns,

Not separated by a racking cloud,
But sever'd in a pale clear shining sky.
See, see, they join, embrace, and seem to kiss,
As if they vow'd some league inviolate.