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Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's de

parting.1

Edw. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd.

'Rich. 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, 'I mean our princely father, duke of York.

War. 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.

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Edw. 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. [Attendants bring the body forward.

War. I think his understanding is bereft :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.

Rich. O, 'would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts, 'Which in the time of death he gave our father. Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager

words.2

Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.3 Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.

Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.

(1) For separation.

(2) Sour words; words of asperity. (3) Favour

'Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to

York.

Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee.
Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you

now?

War. They mock thee, Clifford! swear as thou

wast wont.

'Rich. 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 two hours' life,
That I in all despite might rail at him,

This hand should chop it off; and with the is

suing blood

Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's

head,

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 F'rance,

And ask the lady Bona for thy queen:
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. First will I see the coronation;

And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, letitbe:

* For on thy shoulder do I build my seat; * And never will I undertake the thing, * Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster:' And George, Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. of Clarence;-Warwick, as ourself

;

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of

Gloster;

For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.

War. Tut, that's a foolish observation; Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London, To see these honours in possession.

[Exeunt.

ACT III.

SCENE I-A chase in the north of England. Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands.

'1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brakel we'll

shroud ourselves;

For through this laund2 anon the deer will come; 'And in this covert will we make our stand, 'Culling the principal of all the deer.

*2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may

shoot.

*1 Keep. 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,
* In this self-place where now we mean to stand.
2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be
past.

Enter Henry, disguised, with a prayer-book.
K. Hen. 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; * Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,

(1) Thicket.

(2) A plain extended between woods.

* Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast

anointed:

No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right,
* No, not a man comes for redress of thee;
For how can I help them, and not myself?
'1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's

fee:

• This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him.
* K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities;
* For wise men say, it is the wisest course.
*2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon

him.

*1 Keep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a little

more.

K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France for aid;

'For Warwick is a subtle orator,
' And Lewis

a

And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick 'Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward: If this news be true, Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost; prince soon won with moving words. By this account, then, Margaret may win him; '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, while she doth mourn; * And Nero will be tainted with remorse, * To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. * Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give: She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry; He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says-her Henry is depos'd; He smiles, and says-his Edward is install'd; * That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no

more:

* Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, * Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; * And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,

* With promise of his sister, and what else,. *To strengthen and support king Edward's place. * O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, * Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.

2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings and queens?

'K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was born to:

A man at least, for less I should not be; And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert • king.

K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough.

2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown?

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head;

* Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, * Nor to be seen: 'my crown is call'd, content; 'A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with.

content, Your crown content, and you, must be contented To go along with us: for, as we think, You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd; 'And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, 'Will apprehend you as his enemy.

* K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an oath?

*2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not

now.

* K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was

king of England?

*2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now

remain.

* K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months

old;

* My father and my grandfather, were kings; * And you were sworn true subjects unto me :

VOL. V.

Q

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