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Unreasonable creatures feed their young,
And tho' man's face be fearful to their eyes,
Yet in protection of their tender ones

Who hath not seen them (even with those wings
Which fometimes they have us'd with fearful fight)
Make war with him that climb'd unto their neft,
Offering their own lives in their young's defence?
For fhame, my Liege, make them your prefident.
Were it not pity, that this goodly boy

Should lofe his birth-right by his father's fault,
And long hereafter fay unto his child,
What my great-grandfather and grandfire got,
My careless father fondly gave away?

Ah, what a fhame was this! look on the boy,
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, fteel thy melting heart

To hold thine own, and leave thine own 7 'to` him.
K. Henry. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force:

8

But, Clifford, tell me, didft thou never hear,
That things ill-gotten have had bad fuccefs?
And happy always was it for that fon,

Whofe father for his hoarding went to hell?.
I'll leave my fon my virtuous deeds behind;
And would my father had left me no more!
For all the reft is held at fuch a rate,

As brings a thoufand-fold more care to keep,
Than in poffeffion any jot of pleasure.

Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know

How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

Q. Mar. My Lord, cheer up your fpirits, our foes are nigh, And this foft courage makes your followers faint: You promis'd Knighthood to our forward fon, Unfheath your fword, and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down.

K. Henry. Edward Plantagenet, arise a Knight, And learn this leffon, draw thy fword in right.

7 with

8 ill-got had ever bad

Prince.

Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as Apparent to the crown,

And in that quarrel use it to the death.

Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward Prince.
Enter a Mellenger.

Mef. Royal commanders, be in readiness;
For with a band of thirty thousand men
Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York:
And in the towns as they do march along
Proclaims him King, and many fly to him.
Darraign your battel, they are near at hand.

Clif. I would your Highness would depart the field: The Queen hath beft fuccefs when you are abfent.

Q. Mar. Ay, good my Lord, and leave us to our fortune. K. Henry. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. North. Be it with refolution then to fight.

Prince. My royal father, cheer thefe noble Lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unheath your sword, good father; cry St. George!

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March. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Clarence, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers.

Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace, And fet thy diadem upon my head;

Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

Q. Mar. Go rate thy minions, proud infulting boy. Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms

Before thy Sovereign and thy lawful King?

Edw. I am his King, and he should bow his knee;

I was adopted heir by his confent;

Since when his oath is broke: for, as I hear,

You that are King, though he do wear the crown,
Have caus'd him by new act of Parliament

To blot out me and put his own fon in.

Clif. And reason too:

Who fhould fucceed the father, but the fon?

Rich. Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot fpeak. Clif. Ay crook-back, here I ftand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy fort.

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not fatisfy'd.

crown?

Rich. For God's fake, Lords, give signal to the fight. War. What fay't thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the [you speak? Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick, dare When you and I met at St. Albans laft, Your legs did better service than your hands.

War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine.
Clif. You faid fo much before, and yet you fled.
War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.
North. No, nor your manhood that durft make you stay.
Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently.
Break off the parley, 9 'fcarce I can refrain
The execution of my big-fwoln heart
Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Clif. I flew thy father, call'ft thou him a child?
Rich. Ay, like a daftard and a treacherous coward,
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland:
But ere fun fet I'll make thee curfe the deed.

[fpeak.

K.Henry. Have done with words, my Lords, and hear me Q. Mar. Defie them then, or else hold close thy lips. K. Henry. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue; I am a King, and privileg'd to fpeak.

Clif. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here Cannot be cur'd by words, therefore be ftill.

Rich. Then, execution, re-unfheath thy fword:
By him that made us all, I am refolv'd
That Clifford's manhood lyes upon his tongue.
Edw. Say, Henry, fhall I have my right or no?
A thousand men have broke their fafts to-day,
That ne'er fhall dine unless thou yield the crown.

9 for scarce

War.

War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head! For York in juftice puts his armour on.

Prince. If that be right which Warwick fays is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands, For well I wot thou haft thy mother's tongue.

Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy fire nor dam, But like a foul mishapen ftigmatick,

Mark'd by the deftinies to be avoided,

As venomous toads, or lizards dreadful ftings.
Rich. Iron of Naples hid with English gilt,
Whose father bears the title of a King.
(As if a channel fhould be call'd the fea)

Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
To let thy tongue detect thy bafe-born heart?

Edw. A wifp of ftraw were worth a thousand crowns,
To make this fhameless callat know her felf.
Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou,
Although thy husband may be Menelaus;
And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd
By that falfe woman, as this King by thee.
His father revell'd in the heart of France,
And tam'd the King, and made the Dauphin stoop:
And had he match'd according to his state,
He might have kept that glory to this day.
But when he took a beggar to his bed,
And grac'd thy poor fire with his bridal day,
Even then that fun-fhine brew'd a fhow'r for him,
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,
And heap'd fedition on his crown at home:

For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy pride?
Hadft thou been meek, our title still had flept,
And we in pity of the gentle King

Had flipt our claim until another age.

Cla. But when we faw our fun-fhine made thy fpring, And that thy fummer bred us no increase,

We fet the ax to thy ufurping root;

And though the edge hath fomething hit our felves,

Yet

Yet know thou, fince we have begun to strike,
We'll never leave 'till we have hewn thee down,
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.
Edw. And in this refolution I defie thee,
Not willing any longer conference,

Since thou deny'dft the gentle King to fpeak.
Sound trumpets, let our bloody colours wave,
And either victory or else a grave.

Q. Mar. Stay, Edward

Edw. No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer ftay. Thefe words will coft ten thousand lives this day.

SCENE

A Field of Battle.

[Exeunt omnes.

V.

Alarum. Excurfions. Enter Warwick.
War.Ore-fpent with toil, as runners with a race,
I lay me down a little while to breathe :
For ftrokes receiv'd and many blows repaid
Have robb'd my ftrong-knit finews of their strength,
And fpight of fpight needs muft I reft a while.

Enter Edward running.

Edw. Smile, gentle heav'n; or ftrike, ungentle death; For this world frowns, and Edward's fun is clouded. War. How now, my Lord, what hap? what hope of good?

Enter Clarence.

Cla. Our hap is lofs, our hope but fad despair, Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us.. What counsel give you? whither fhall we fly? Edw. Bootlefs is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are, and cannot fhun pursuit.

Enter

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