(SCENE I.)

Enter RICHARD DUKE OF YORK, the EARL OF WAR-
WICK, the DUKE OF NORFOLK, MARQUIS MON-
TAGUE, EDWARD EARL OF MARCH, 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.b

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.

a There with. In the unique edition of 1595, therewith. It is evident that Richard here either points to the body of Somerset or throws down his head.

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, Dares 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 re

venge,

On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends. North. And if I be not, Heavens 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 poltroons, 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?

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 Lancaster;

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 it 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

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. "T was 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?

Exet. 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 of 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 shall 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 unkingly deed. [Exit.
Clif. In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,
Or live in peace, abandon'd and despis'd.
[Exit.
Exet. They seek revenge, and therefore will not
yield, my lord.

King. Ah, Exeter !

War. Why should you sigh, my lord?

a Unkingly, in the quarto of 1595; afterwards changed to unkindly.

man,

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 murther'd by his enemies. [Exit. Prince. When I returnwithvictory from the field, I'll see your grace: till then I'll follow her. [Exit. King. Poor queen, her love to me and to the prince her son

Makes her in fury thus 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.

Rich. Nay, I can better play the orator.

Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible.

Enter the DUKE OF YORK.

York. How now, sons! what, at a jar amongst yourselves?

Rich. No, father, but a sweet contention, about that which concerns yourself and us: the crown of England, father.a

York. The crown, boy! Why, Henry's yet alive; And I have sworn that he shall reign in quiet Till his death.

Edw. But I would break an hundred oaths to

reign one year.

Rich. An if it please your grace to give me leave, 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 moment,

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 Cob-
ham,

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. Albans 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, and 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.

Edw. Let's march away; I hear their drums.
[Exeunt.

a Printed as prose in the edition of 1595.

(SCENE III.)

Alarms, 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 blocdy Clifford comes. Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy

life.

As for the brat of that accursed duke,
Whose father slew my father, he shal 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! [Exit 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 speakest, 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?

Clif. Thy father hath.

Rut. 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.

O, let me live in prison all my days,

And when I give occasion of offence,

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Clif. No cause?

Thy father slew my father, therefore die.
Plantagenet, I come, Plantagenet,

And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade,
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
Congeal'd with his, do make me wipe off both.

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 slander'st him with cowardice,

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;a 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? 'Tis 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 Northum.

berland,

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 it 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 is that valiant crook-back'd prodigy,
Dicky, your boy, that, with his grumbling voice,
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?

a Deaf. The quarto of 1595 has death.