And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than com mon grief! 'O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!* O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!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, present: 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? Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, 'Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied? K. Hen. How will the country, for these woful chances, • Misthink the king, and not be satisfied? 'Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death? 'Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son ? 'K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects' woe? fill. • Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my [Exit, with the Body. * Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; * My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, &c.] Of the various meanings given to these two lines, the following seems the most probable. Had the son been younger, he would have been precluded from the levy that brought him into the field; and had the father recognised him before the mortal blow, it would not have been too late to have saved him from death. HENLEY. Take on with me,] To take on is a phrase still in use among the vulgar, and signifies to persist in clamorous lamentation. * Misthink,] i. e. to think ill, unfavourably. 9 * For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. 1 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. K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Here sits a king more woful than you are. Alarums: Excursions. Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince of Wales, and EXETER. 'Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, ' And Warwick rages like a chafed bull : Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. 6 Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick post amain : 'Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds • Having the fearful flying hare in sight, • With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, 'Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. 'Eve. Away! for vengeance comes along with them: Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; Or else come after, I'll away before. K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter; 'Not that I fear to stay, but love to go [Exeunt 9 And so obsequious will thy father be, Obsequious is here careful of obsequies, or of funeral rites. SCENE VI. The same. : A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded. Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. O, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow, More than my body's parting with my soul. My love, and fear, glew'd many friends to thee; 'And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud 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 ? O Phœbus! hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth : And Henry, had'st thou sway'd as kings should do, Or as thy father, and his father, did, 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. For what doth cherish weeds bur 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 out flight; The foe is merciless, and will not pity; 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. [He faints. Alarum and Retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers. Edw. 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, Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape : For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: 'And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. [CLIFFORD groans, and dies. Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing.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; *-like life and death's departing.] Departing for separation. Measure for measure must be answered. Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours: [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, Rich. O, would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; • Which in the time of death he gave our father. Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.9 Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. 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, eager words.] Sour words; words of asperity. |