The Arden Shakespeare Complete Works
Page 236
The red rose and the white are on his face,
The fatal colours of our striving houses:
The one his purple blood right well resembles;
The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth.
100
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
105
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 bemoan’d his son?
110
KING HENRY
Was ever king so griev’d for subjects’ woe?
Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much.
SON I’ll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.
Exit with the body.
FATHER
These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,
115
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,
Even for the loss of thee, having no more,
As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
120
I’ll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,
For I have murder’d where I should not kill.
Exit with 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, the PRINCE and EXETER.
PRINCE Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled,
125
And Warwick rages like a chafed 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,
130
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody steel grasp’d 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,
135
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! Exeunt.
2.6 A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD wounded, with an arrow in his neck.
CLIFFORD Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies,
Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light.
Oh, Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow
More than my body’s parting with my soul.
My love and fear glu’d many friends to thee;
5
And, now I fall, thy tough commixture melts,
Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York.
The common people swarm like summer flies;
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henry’s enemies?
10
O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent
That Phaëthon should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car never had scorch’d the earth!
And, Henry, hadst thou sway’d as kings should do,
Or as thy father, and his father did,
15
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.
20
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, nor strength to hold our flight:
The foe is merciless and will not pity;
25
For at their hands I have deserv’d 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 stabb’d your fathers’ bosoms: split my breast.
30
[He faints.]
Alarum and retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK and soldiers.
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, fill’d with a fretting gust,
35
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 mark’d him for the grave;
40
And, wheresoe’er he be, 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.
See who it is.
EDWARD And now the battle’s ended,
If friend or foe, let him be gently us’d.
45
RICHARD Revoke that doom of mercy, for ’tis Clifford,
Who, not contented that he lopp’d the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his murdering knife unto the root
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring –
50
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 placed there;
Instead whereof let this supply the room;
Measure for measure must be answered.
55
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 threatening sound,
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
WARWICK I think his understanding is bereft.
60
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,
65
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.
70
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?
75
WARWICK
They mock thee, Cl
ifford; 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,
80
That I in all despite might rail at him,
This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood
Stifle the villain whose unstaunched thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.
WARWICK
Ay, but he’s dead. Off with the traitor’s head,
85
And rear it in the place your father’s stands.
And now to London with triumphant march,
There to be crowned England’s royal king;
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France,
And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen.
90
So shalt thou sinew both these lands together;
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread
The scatter’d foe that hopes to rise again;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears.
95
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,
100
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.
105
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 honours in possession. Exeunt.
110
3.1 Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands.
1 KEEPER
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.
2 KEEPER I’ll stay above the hill, so both may shoot.
5
1 KEEPER
That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow
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
10
In this self place where now we mean to stand.
2 KEEPER
Here comes a man; let’s stay till he be past.
Enter KING HENRY, disguised, 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;
15
Thy place is fill’d, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
Thy balm wash’d 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:
20
For how can I help them and not myself?
1 KEEPER
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 thee, sour Adversity,
For wise men say it is the wisest course.
25
2 KEEPER
Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.
1 KEEPER 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
30
To wife for Edward. If this news be true,
Poor queen and son, your labour 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,
35
For she’s a woman to be pitied much:
Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;
The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn;