And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed:
I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud, And blow it to the source from whence it came: Thy very beams will dry those vapours up, 11 For every cloud engenders not a storm.

Glou. The queen is valu'd thirty thousand strong,

And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her:
If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends
That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury.
We, having now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;
And, as we march, our strength will be augmented
In every county as we go along.
Strike up the drum! cry 'Courage!' and away.
Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Plains near Tewksbury. March. Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers. Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,

much;

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown overboard,
The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood;
Yet lives our pilot still: is't meet that he
Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad
With tearful eyes add water to the sea,
And give more strength to that which hath too
Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock, 10
Which industry and courage might have sav'd
Ah! what a shame, ah! what a fault were this.
Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that!
And Montague our topmast; what of him!
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these!
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast!
The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings!
And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I
For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge!

20

Stabs him.

agony.

Stabs him.

With pay and thanks, and let's away to London And see our gentle queen how well she fares: By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

Bxeunt.

Clar. And there's for

twitting me with

perjury.

Stabs him. 40

SCENE VI. London. The Tower.

King HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOUCESTER.

Glou. Why should she live, to fill the world with words?

Glou. Good day, my lord. What! at your book so hard!

K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use means

for her recovery.

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: my lord, I should say rather;

'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.'

Glou. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must
confer.
Exit Lieutenant.

Exit. 50

K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;

Q. Mar. O Ned! sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!

Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!
They that stabb'd Cæsar shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it:
He was a man; this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no; my heart will burst an if I speak;
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up

Glou. Why, what a peevish fool was that of
Crete,

That taught his son the office of a fowl!
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.
K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah! kill me with thy weapon, not with words
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
Than can my ears that tragic history.
But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life!
Glou. Think'st thou I am an executioner!
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art:
If murdering innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glou. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd when first
thou didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. And thus I prophesy: that many a thousand, Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear. And many an old man'ssigh, and many a widow's And many an orphan's water-standing eve, Men for their sons', wives for their husbands, And orphans for their parents' timeless death. Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time: Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down

Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.

Seehowmysword weeps for the poor king'sdeath! 0! may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfall of our house. If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither, Stabs him again. I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward. Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? The midwife wonder'd, and the women cried 'O! Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth.'

And so I was; which plainly signified

70

That I should snarl and bite and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother;
And this word 'love,' which greybeards call
divine,

Be résident in men like one another

And not in me: I am myself alone.

80

Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me fromthelight;

But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;

For I will buzz abroad such prophecies

And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.

That Edward shall be fearful of his life;

King Henry and the prince his son are gone :

Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
For hardy and undoubted champions;
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;
And two Northumberlands: two braver men
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's

sound;

With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,

10

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion, And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.

Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat,
And made our footstool of security.

Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.
Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself
Have in our armours watch'd the winter's

peace;

And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. 20 Glou. Aside. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid;

For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave;
And heave it shall some weight, or break my
back.

Work thou the way, and thou shalt execute.
K. Edw. Clarence and Gloucester, love my
lovely queen;

And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. Clar. The duty that I owe unto your majesty I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.

Q. Eliz. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.

30

ACT I.

SCENE I.-London. A Street.

Enter GLOUCESTER.

Cheated of feature by dissembling nature,
Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up,
And that so lamely and unfashionable
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them;
Why, I, in this weak piping time of peace,

Have no delight to pass away the time, Unless to see my shadow in the sun And descant on mine own deformity: And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days, I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days. Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, To set my brother Clarence and the king In deadly hate the one against the other: And if King Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up About a prophecy, which says that G Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul: here Clar