Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. 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, Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, [speak: Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; And when thou fall'st, (as God forbid the hour!) Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend! War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; The next degree is, England's royal throne: For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd 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. Rich. 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. That cries-Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. Edw. Then strike up, drums;-God, and saint George, for us! Enter a Messenger. War. How now? what news? Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, The queen is coming with a puissant host; SCENE II. Before YORK. Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, the PRINCE of WALES, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with Forces. Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, [York. That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their Cliff. My gracious liege, this too much lenity, The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Should lose his birthright by his father's fault? Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. Bat, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,- As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know, [nigh, K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And in that quarrel use it to the death. Cliff. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. Enter a Messenger. Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness: Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York; Cliff. I would, your highness would depart the field; The queen hath best success when you are absent. Q. Mar. Ay, good, my lord, and leave us to our fortune. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll North. Be it with resolution then to fight. [stay. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George! March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers. Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head; Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? Q. Mar. Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king? Edw. 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 caus'd him, by new act of parliament, To blot out me, and put his own son in. Cliff. And reason too; Who should succeed the father, but the son? Rich. Are you there, butcher?-O, I cannot speak! Cliff. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort. Rich. "Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not? Cliff. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? [dare you speak? Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick? When you and I met at St. Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands. War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. Cliff. You said so much before, aud yet you fled. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make you stay. Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;- Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. Cliff. I slew thy father: Call'st thou him a child? Rich. 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. K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. K. Hen. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue; I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. Cliff. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting here, Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still. Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword: Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right. Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy şire, nor dam; But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatic, Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. Whose father bears the title of a king |