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Enter EDWARD, and RICHARD, and HASTINGS, with a troop of Hollanders.

K. Edw. Thus far from Belgia have we pass'd the seas, And march'd from Raunspur haven unto York: But soft, the gates are shut; I like not this.

Rich. Sound up the drum, and call them to the walls.

Enter the Lord Mayor of York, upon the walls. Mayor. My lords, we had notice of your coming, And that's the cause we stand upon our guard, And shut the gates for to preserve the town. Henry now is king, and we are sworn to him.

K. Edw. Why, my lord mayor, if Henry be your king,

Edward I am sure at least is duke of York.

Mayor. Truth, my lord, we know you for no less. K. Edw. I crave nothing but my dukedom. Rich. But when the fox hath gotten in his head, He'll quickly make the body follow after.

Hast. Why, my lord mayor, what stand you upon points?

Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends. Mayor. Say you so? then! 'll open them presently. [Exit Mayor. Rich. By my faith, a wise stout captain, and soon persuaded.

The Mayor opens the door, and brings the keys in his


K. Edw. So, my lord mayor, these gates must not be shut,

But in the time of war; give me the keys:
What, fear not man, for Edward will defend
The town and you, despite of all your foes.

Enter Sir JOHN MONTGOMERY, with drum and Soldiers.
How now, Richard, who is this?

Rich. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery, A trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd.

K. Edw. Welcome, sir John. Wherefore come you in arms?

Sir John. To help king Edward in this time of storms,

As every loyal subject ought to do.

K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery, but I only claim

My dukedom, till it please God to send the rest.
Sir John. Then fare you well. Drum, strike up,
and let us march away;
I came to serve a king, and not a duke.
K. Edw. Nay, stay, sir John, and let us first debate
With what security we may do this thing.

Sir John. What stand you on debating! to be brief,

Except you presently proclaim yourself
Our king, I'll hence again, and keep them back
That come to succour you; why should we fight,
When you pretend no title?

Rich. Fie, brother, stand you upon terms?
Resolve yourself, and let us claim the crown.

K. Edw. I am resolv'd once more to claim the crown, And win it too, or else to lose my life.

Sir John, Ay, now my sovereign speaketh himself, And now will I be Edward's champion. Sound trumpets, for Edward shall be proclaim'd.

This scene corresponds with Scene vII. of Henry VI., Part III.


Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, king of England and France, and lord of Ireland: And whosoe'er gainsays king Edward's right, By this I challenge him to single fight. Long live Edward the Fourth!

All. Long live Edward the Fourth!

K. Edw. We thank you all. Lord mayor, lead on the way.

For this night we 11 harbour here in York,
And then as early as the morning sun
Lifts up his beams above this horizon,
We'll march to London, to meet with Warwick,
And pull false Heury from the regal throne.


[Exeunt omnes.

Enter WARWICK and CLARENCE with the crown, and then King HENRY, Oxford, SOMERSET, and the young Earl of RICHMOND,

King. Thus from the prison to this princely seat, By God's great mercies am I brought again. Clarence and Warwick, do you keep the crown, And govern and protect my realm in peace, And I will spend the remnant of my days, To sin's rebuke, and my Creator's praise.

War. What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will?

Cla. Clarence agrees to what king Henry likes.
King. My lord of Somerset, what pretty boy

Is that you seem to be so careful of ?

Som. If it please your grace, it is young Henry, Earl of Richmond.

King. Henry of Richmond,

Come hither, pretty lad. If heav'nly powers
Do aim aright to my divining thoughts,
Thou, pretty boy, shalt prove this country's bliss.
Thy head is made to wear a princely crown;
Thy looks are all replete with majesty ;
Make much of him, my lords, for this is he
Shall help you more than you art hurt by me.

Enter One with a letter to WARWICK,
War. What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders,
Is pass'd in safety through the narrow seas,

And with his troops doth march amain towards London,

And many giddy-headed people follow him.
Orf. T is best to look to this betimes,
For if this fire do kindle any further,
It will be hard for us to quench it out.

War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war;
Them will I muster up; and thou, son Clarence,
Shalt in Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
Stir up the knights and gentlemen to come with thee.
And thou, brother Montague, in Leicestershire,
Buckingham, and Northamptonshire, shalt find
Men well inclin'd to do what thou command'st;
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd,
Shalt in thy countries muster up thy friends.
My sovereign, with his loving citizens,
Shall rest in London till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.
Farewell, my sovereign.

King. Farewell, my Hector, my Troy's true hope.

The first part of this scene, till Warwick enters, corresponds with Scene vi, of Henry VI., Part III. Thesecond part corresponds with Scene vin, of that amended play.

War. Farewell, sweet lords, let's meet at Coventry.
All. Agreed.
[Exeunt omnes.
Enter EDWARD and his train.
K. Ede. Seize on the shame-fac'd Heury,

And once again convey him to the Tower.
Away with him, I will not hear him speak.
And now towards Coventry let us bend our course,
To meet with Warwick and his confederates.

[Exeunt omnes.

(ACT V.)


Enter WARWICK on the walls.

War. Where is the post that came from valiant

How far hence is thy lord, my honest fellow ?
Orf. Post. By this at Daintry marching hither-


War. Where is our brother Montague? Where is the post that came from Montague?

Post. I left him at Dunsmore with his troops. War. Say, Somerville, where is my loving son? And by thy guess, how far is Clarence hence?

Som. At Southam, my lord, I left him with his force,

And do expect him two hours hence.

War. Then Oxford is at hand; I hear his drum.

Enter EDWARD and his power.

Glo. See, brother, where the surly Warwick mans the wall.

War. O, unbid spite, is sportful Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could have no news of their repair?

K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou be sorry for thy faults,

And call Edward king? and he will pardon thee.
War. Nay, rather wilt thou draw thy forces back,
Confess who set thee up and pull'd thee down,
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent?
And thou shalt still remain the duke of York.

Glo. I had thought at least he would have said the king.

Or did he make the jest against his will?

War. T was Warwick gave the kingdom to thy brother.

K. Edw. Why then 't is mine, if but by Warwick's


War. Ay, but thou art no Atlas for so great a weight,

And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again;
Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.

K. Edw. I prithee, gallant Warwick, tell me this, What is the body when the head is off?

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more foresight, But whilst he sought to steal the single ten, The king was finely finger'd from the deck. You left poor Henry in the bishop's palace, And ten to one you 'll meet him in the Tower.

K. Edw. 'Tis even so, and yet you are old Warwick still.

War. O, cheerful colours! see where Oxford comes.

Enter OXFORD, with drum and Soldiers.

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Enter SOMERSET, with drum and Soldiers.
Som, Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster.
Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset,
Have sold their lives unto the house of York,
And thou shalt be the third, if my sword hold.

Enter MONTAGUE, with drum and Soldiers.
Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster. [Erit.
K. Edw. Traitorous Montague, thou and thy brother
Shall dearly abide this rebellious act.

Enter CLARENCE, with drum and Soldiers. War. And lo where George of Clarence sweeps along,

Of power enough to bid his brother battle.

Cla. Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster.
K. Edw. Et tu Brute, wilt thou stab Cæsar too?
A parley, sirrah, to George of Clarence.

Sound a parley, and RICHARD and CLARENCE whisper together, and then CLARENCE takes his red rose out of his hat, and throws it at WARWICK.

War. Come, Clarence, come, thou wilt if Warwick


Cla. Father of Warwick, know you what this means?

I throw mine infamy at thee,

I will not ruinate my father's house,

Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,
And set up Lancaster. Thinkest thou
That Clarence is so harsh, unnatural,

To lift his sword against his brother's life?
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee;
And to my brothers turn my blushing cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, for I have done amiss;
And, Richard, do not frown upon me;

For henceforth I will prove no more unconstant.
K. Edw. Welcome, Clarence, and ten times more

Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is brotherly.
War. O, passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust.
K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town
and fight?

Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?

War. Why, I am not coop'd up here for defence, I will away to Barnet presently, And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar st. K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, he dares, and leads the way: Lords, to the field; saint George and victory. [Exeunt omnes.


Alarums, and then enter WARWICK wounded. War. Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, friend or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that? my mangled body shows That I must yield my body to the earth, And by my fall the conquest to my foes.

Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the rampant lion slept,
Whose top branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree.
The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow?
Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood,
My parks, and walks, my manors that I had,
Even now forsake me, and of all my lands
Is nothing left me but my body's length.


Orf. Ah, Warwick, Warwick, cheer up thyself and live,

For yet there's hope enough to win the day.
Our warlike queen with troops is come from France,
And at Southampton landed all her train,
And might'st thou live, then would we never fly.
War. Why then I would not fly; nor have I now,
But Hercules himself must yield to odds,

For many wounds receiv'd, and many more repaid,
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength,
And spite of spites needs must I yield to death.

Som. Thy brother Montague hath breath'd his last, And at the pangs of death I heard him cry And say, 'Commend me to my valiant brother;' And more he would have spoke, and more he said, Which sounded like a clamour in a vault, That could not be distinguish'd for the sound; And so the valiant Montague gave up the ghost. War. What is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And live we how we can, yet die we must. Sweet rest his soul! fly lords, and save yourselves, For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven. [He dies. Orf. Come, noble Somerset, let's take our horse, And cause retreat be sounded through the camp, That all our friends that yet remain alive May be forewarn'd, and save themselves by flight. That done, with them we 'll post unto the queen, And once more try our fortune in the field.

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K. Edw. Thus still our fortune gives us victory,
And girts our temples with triumphant joys.
The big-bon'd traitor, Warwick, hath breath'd his last,
And heaven this day hath smil'd upon us all.

But in this clear and brightsome day,

I see a black, suspicious cloud appear,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Before he gain his easeful western beams;

I mean those powers which the queen hath got in

Are landed, and mean once more to menace us.
Glo. Oxford and Somerset have fled to her;
And 't is likely, if she have time to breathe,
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends,
That they do hold their course towards Tewksbury.
Thither will we, for willingness rids way:
And in every country as we pass along,
Our strength shall be augmented.

Come, let's go, for if we slack this bright summer's day, Sharp winter's showers will mar our hope for hay. [Exeunt omnes.


Enter the QUEEN, Prince EDWARD, OXFORD, and
SOMERSET, with drum and Soldiers.

Queen. Welcome to England, my loving friends of

And welcome Somerset and Oxford too.
Once more have we spread our sails abroad,
And though our tackling be almost consum'd,
And Warwick as our mainmast overthrown,
Yet, warlike lords, raise you that sturdy post
That bears the sails to bring us unto rest,
And Ned and I, as willing pilots should,
For once with careful minds guide on the stern,
To bear us through that dangerous gulf

That heretofore hath swallow'd up our friends.
Prince. And if there be (as God forbid there

Amongst us a timorous or fearful man,
Let him depart before the battles join,
Lest he in time of need entice another,
And so withdraw the soldiers' hearts from us.
I will not stand aloof and bid you fight,
But with my sword press in the thickest throngs,
And single Edward from his strongest guard,
And hand to hand enforce him for to yield,
Or leave my body as witness of my thoughts.

Orf. Women and children of so high resolve,
And warriors faint! why 't were perpetual shame.
Oh, brave young prince, thy noble grandfather
Doth live again in thee; long may'st thou live
To bear his image, and to renew his glories.

Som. And he that turns and flies when such do fight,
Let him to bed, and like the owl by day
Be hiss'd and wonder'd at if he arise.
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lords, duke Edward with a mighty power

Is marching hitherwards to fight with you.

Orf. I thought it was his policy to take us unprovided;

But here will we stand and fight it to the death. Enter King EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and Soldiers.

K.Edw. See, brothers, yonder stands the thorny wood,
Which, by God's assistance and your prowess,
Shall with our swords ere night be clean cut down.
Queen. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I
should say

My tears gainsay. For as you see, I drink
The water of mine eyes. Then no more but this;
Henry our king is prisoner in the Tower;

His land, and all our friends, are quite distress'd;

And yonder stands the wolf that makes all this;
Then on God's name, lords, together cry, Saint George.
All. Saint George for Lancaster.


Alarums to the battle, YORK flies, then the chamber be discharged. Then enter the KING, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and the rest, making a great shout, and cry, For York, For York, and then the QUEEN, PRINCE, OXFORD, and SOMERSET are taken, and then sound and enter all again.

K. Edw. Lo, here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hammes castle straight: For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Away, I will not hear them speak.

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Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my death. [Exit SOMERSET.

K. Edw. Now, Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,

For stirring up my subjects to rebellion?

Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York; Suppose that I am now my father's mouth; Resign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou, Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee, Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. Queen. Oh, that thy father had been so resolv'd. Glo. That you might still have kept your petticoat, And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. Prince. Let Esop fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place.

Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word. Queen. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. Glo. For God's sake take away this captive scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back rather.

K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will tame your tongue.

Cla. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful. Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, And thou misshapen Dick, I tell you all I am your better, traitors as you be.

K. Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this railer here.

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But if you ever hope to have a son,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,

As, traitors, you have done this sweet young prince.
K. Edu. Away, and bear her hence.

Queen. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here; Here sheath thy sword; I'll pardon thee my death. Wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do thou do it.

Cla. By heaven, I would not do thee so much ease. Queen. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, kill

me too.

Cla. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

Queen. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself: 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. Where's the devil's butcher, hard-favour'd Richard?

Richard, where art thou?

He is not here: Murder is his alms-deed; Petitioners for blood he 'll ne'er put back.

K. Edw. Away, I say, and take her hence perforce. Queen. So come to you and yours, as to this prince. [Exit.

K. Edw. Clarence, whither is Gloster gone? Cla. Marry, my lord, to London; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He is sudden, if a thing come in his head. Well, discharge the common soldiers with pay and thanks :

And now let's toward London,

To see our gentle queen how she doth fare;
For by this I hope she hath a son for us.


[Exeunt omnes.

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'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better;
Good Gloster, and good devil, were all alike.
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts a guilty mind.
King. The bird once lim'd doth fear the fatal bush;
And I, the hapless male to one poor bird,
Have now the fatal object in mine eye,
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and

Glo. Why, what a fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a bird! And yet, for all that, the poor fowl was drown'd. King. I, Dædalus, my poor son, Icarus ; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; Thy brother Edward the sun that sear'd his wings; And thou the enviest gulf that swallow'd him. Oh, better can my breast abide thy dagger's point, Than can mine ears that tragic history.

Glo. Why, dost thou think I am an executioner?
King. A persecutor, I am sure thou art;
And if murdering innocents be executions,
Then I know thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
King. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst


Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine

And thus I prophesy of thee:

That many a widow for her husband's death,

And many an infant's water-standing eye,
Widows for their husbands, children for their fathers,
Shall curse the time that ever thou wert born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, a boding luckless tune;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees ;
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chatt ring pies in dismal discord sung;
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope;
To wit, an undigest created lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
To signify thou cam'st to bite the world:
And if the rest be true that I have heard,
Thou cam'st into the world-

Glo. Die, prophet, in thy speech, I'll hear no [Stabs him.


For this amongst the rest was I ordain'd.

King. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. O, God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee. [He dies. Glo. What! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink into the ground? I had thought it would have mounted.

See how my sword weeps for the poor king's death.
Now may such purple tears always be shed,
For such as seek the downfall of our house.
If any spark of life remain in thee,


[Stabs him again. Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither: I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. Indeed, 't was true that Henry told me of, For I have often heard my mother say, I came into the world with my legs forward: And had I not reason, think you, to make haste, And seek their ruins that usurp'd our rights? The women weeping, and the midwife crying, 'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth:" And so I was, indeed; which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since heaven hath made my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I had no father, I am like no father;

I have no brothers, I am like no brothers;

And this word love, which greybeards term divine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me; I am myself alone.

Clarence, beware; thou keep st me from the light,
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buz abroad such prophecies,
Under pretence of outward seeming ill,
As Edward shall be fearful of his life,
And then to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone;
And, Clarence, thou art next must follow them:
So by one and one despatching all the rest,
Counting myself but bad, till I be best.
I'll drag thy body in another room,
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.



Enter King EDWARD, Queen ELIZABETH, and a Nurse with the young Prince, and CLARENCE, GLOSter, HASTINGS, and others.

K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's throne,

This line is not in the edition from which we print, but is found in the earlier quartos.

Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies.
What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,
Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride?
Three dukes of Somerset, three-fold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions:
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son,
And two Northumberlands; two braver men

Ne er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound.
With them the two rough bears, Warwick and Mon-


That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion,
And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.
Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself,
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night;
March'd all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
That thou might st repossess the crown in peace;
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.

Glo. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid; For yet I am not look'd on in the world.

This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave:
And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:
Work thou the way, and thou shalt execute.

K. Edw. Brothers of Clarence and of Gloster,
Pray love my lovely queen,

And kiss your princely nephew, both.

Cla. The duty that I owe unto your majesty,

I seal upon the roseate lips of this sweet babe.
Queen. Thanks, noble Clarence, worthy brother,


Glo. And that I love the fruit from whence thou


Witness the loving kiss I give the child.

To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master,
And so he cried all hail, and meant all harm.
K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights.
Cla. What will your grace have done with Mar-

Reignier, her father, to the king of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
And hither have they sent it for a ransom.

K. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence to France.
And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately triumphs and mirthful comic shows,
Such as befits the pleasures of the court?
Sound drums and trumpets! farewell to sour annoy!
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.

[Exeunt omnes.

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