York
This oath I willingly take and will perform.
Warwick
Long live King Henry! Plantagenet embrace him.
King Henry VI
And long live thou and these thy forward sons!
York
Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.
Exeter
Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes!
Sennet. Here they come down
York
Farewell, my gracious lord; I’ll to my castle.
Warwick
And I’ll keep London with my soldiers.
Norfolk
And I to Norfolk with my followers.
Montague
And I unto the sea from whence I came.
Exeunt York, Edward, Edmund, George, Richard, Warwick, Norfolk, Montague, their Soldiers, and Attendants
King Henry VI
And I, with grief and sorrow, to the court.
Enter Queen Margaret and Prince Edward
Exeter
Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger:
I’ll steal away.
King Henry VI
Exeter, so will I.
Queen Margaret
Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee.
King Henry VI
Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay.
Queen Margaret
Who can be patient in such extremes?
Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid
And never seen thee, never borne thee son,
Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father
Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus?
Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I,
Or felt that pain which I did for him once,
Or nourish’d him as I did with my blood,
Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there,
Rather than have that savage duke thine heir
And disinherited thine only son.
Prince Edward
Father, you cannot disinherit me:
If you be king, why should not I succeed?
King Henry VI
Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son:
The Earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me.
Queen Margaret
Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forced?
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch!
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son and me;
And given unto the house of York such head
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre
And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is chancellor and the lord of Calais;
Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas;
The duke is made protector of the realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds
The trembling lamb environed with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a silly woman,
The soldiers should have toss’d me on their pikes
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honour:
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of parliament be repeal’d
Whereby my son is disinherited.
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread;
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace
And utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let’s away;
Our army is ready; come, we’ll after them.
King Henry VI
Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
Queen Margaret
Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone.
King Henry VI
Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
Queen Margaret
Ay, to be murder’d by his enemies.
Prince Edward
When I return with victory from the field
I’ll see your grace: till then I’ll follow her.
Queen Margaret
Come, son, away; we may not linger thus.
Exeunt Queen Margaret and Prince Edward
King Henry VI
Poor queen! how love to me and to her son
Hath made her break out into terms of rage!
Revenged may she be on that hateful duke,
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son!
The loss of those three lords torments my heart:
I’ll write unto them and entreat them fair.
Come, cousin you shall be the messenger.
Exeter
And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
Exeunt
SCENE II. SANDAL CASTLE.
Enter Richard, Edward, and Montague
Richard
Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.
Edward
No, I can better play the orator.
Montague
But I have reasons strong and forcible.
Enter York
York
Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife?
What is your quarrel? how began it first?
Edward
No quarrel, but a slight contention.
York
About what?
Richard
About that which concerns your grace and us;
The crown of England, father, which is yours.
York
Mine boy? not till King Henry be dead.
Richard
Your right depends not on his life or death.
Edward
Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now:
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe,
It will outrun you, father, in the end.
York
I took an oath that he should quietly reign.
Edward
But for a kingdom any oath may be broken:
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
Richard
No; God forbid your grace should be forsworn.
York
I shall be, if I claim by open war.
Richard
I’ll prove the contrary, if you’ll hear me speak.
York
Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.
Richard
An oath is of no moment, being not took
Before a true and lawful magistrate,
That hath authority over him that swears:
Henry had none, but did usurp the place;
Then, seeing ’twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore, to arms! And, father, do but think
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown;
Within whose circuit is Elysium
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
Why do we finger thus? I cannot rest
Until the white rose that I wear be dyed
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry’s heart.
York
Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.
Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.
Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk,
And tell him privily of our intent.
You Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise:
In them I trust; for they are soldiers,
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
While you are thus employ’d, what resteth more,
But that I seek occasion how
to rise,
And yet the king not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster?
Enter a Messenger
But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post?
Messenger
The queen with all the northern earls and lords
Intend here to besiege you in your castle:
She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
York
Ay, with my sword. What! think’st thou that we fear them?
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
My brother Montague shall post to London:
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we have left protectors of the king,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
Montague
Brother, I go; I’ll win them, fear it not:
And thus most humbly I do take my leave.
Exit
Enter John Mortimer and Hugh Mortimer
Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.
John Mortimer
She shall not need; we’ll meet her in the field.
York
What, with five thousand men?
Richard
Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need:
A woman’s general; what should we fear?
A march afar off
Edward
I hear their drums: let’s set our men in order,
And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
York
Five men to twenty! though the odds be great,
I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France,
When as the enemy hath been ten to one:
Why should I not now have the like success?
Alarum. Exeunt
SCENE III. FIELD OF BATTLE BETWIXT SANDAL CASTLE AND WAKEFIELD.
Alarums. Enter Rutland and his Tutor
Rutland
Ah, whither shall I fly to ’scape their hands?
Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes!
Enter Clifford and Soldiers
Clifford
Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
As for the brat of this accursed duke,
Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
Tutor
And I, my lord, will bear him company.
Clifford
Soldiers, away with him!
Tutor
Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
Lest thou be hated both of God and man!
Exit, dragged off by Soldiers
Clifford
How now! is he dead already? or is it fear
That makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them.
Rutland
So looks the pent-up lion o’er the wretch
That trembles under his devouring paws;
And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey,
And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threatening look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath:
Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
Clifford
In vain thou speak’st, poor boy; my father’s blood
Hath stopp’d the passage where thy words should enter.
Rutland
Then let my father’s blood open it again:
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
Clifford
Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge sufficient for me;
No, if I digg’d up thy forefathers’ graves
And hung 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;
And till I root out their accursed line
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore —
Lifting his hand
Rutland
O, let me pray before I take my death!
To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!
Clifford
Such pity as my rapier’s point affords.
Rutland
I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me?
Clifford
Thy father hath.
Rutland
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.
Ah, 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.
Clifford
No cause!
Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.
Stabs him
Rutland
Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae!
Dies
Clifford
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 this, do make me wipe off both.
Exit
SCENE IV. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.
Alarum. Enter York
York
The army of the queen hath got the field:
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind
Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them:
But this I know, they have demean’d themselves
Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me.
And thrice cried ‘Courage, father! fight it out!’
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encounter’d him:
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried ‘Charge! and give no foot of ground!’
And cried ‘A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!’
With this, we charged again: but, out, alas!
We bodged again; as I have seen a swan
With bootless labour swim against the tide
And spend her strength with over-matching waves.
A short alarum within
Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue;
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury:
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
The sands are number’d that make up my life;
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, Prince Edward, and Soldiers
Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
Northumberland
Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
Clifford
Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm,
With downright payment, show’d unto my father.
Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.
York
My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth
A bird that will revenge upon you all:
And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,
Scorning whate’er you can afflict me with.
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Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear?
Clifford
So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
So doves do peck the falcon’s piercing talons;
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
Breathe out invectives ’gainst the officers.
York
O Clifford, but bethink thee once again,
And in thy thought o’er-run my former time;
And, if though canst for blushing, view this face,
And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice
Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this!
Clifford
I will not bandy with thee word for word,
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.
Queen Margaret
Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes
I would prolong awhile the traitor’s life.
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland.
Northumberland
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?
It is war’s prize to take all vantages;
And ten to one is no impeach of valour.
They lay hands on York, who struggles
Clifford
Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
Northumberland
So doth the cony struggle in the net.
York
So triumph thieves upon their conquer’d booty;
So true men yield, with robbers so o’ermatch’d.
Northumberland
What would your grace have done unto him now?
Queen Margaret
Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
Come, make him stand upon this molehill here,
That raught at mountains with outstretched arms,
Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
What! was it you that would be England’s king?
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?
And where’s that valiant crook-back prodigy,
Dicky your boy, that with his grumbling voice
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland?
Look, York: I stain’d this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford, with his rapier’s point,
Made issue from the bosom of the 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 deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state.
I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parch’d thine entrails
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