Fath. Thefe arms of mine fhall be thy winding-fheet, My heart, fweet boy, fhall be thy fepulchre, For from my heart thine image ne'er fhall go. My fighing breaft fhall be thy funeral bell: And fo obfequious will thy father be, Sad for the lofs of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant fons.. I'll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I have murther'd where I fhould not kill. K. Henry. Sad-hearted men, much overgone Here fits a King more woful than you are.

[Exit. with care,

Alarums. Excurfions. 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.

[amain.

Q. Mar. Mount you, my Lord, towards Berwick post

Edward and Richard, like a brace of grey-hounds
Having the fearful flying hare in fight,

With fiery eyes fparkling for very wrath,
And bloody fteel grafpt in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain!

Exe. Away; for vengeance comes along with them.
Nay, ftay not to expoftulate, make speed.

Or elfe come after, I'll away before.

K. Henry. Nay, take me with thee, good fweet Exeter; Not that I fear to ftay, but love to go

Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away! [Exeunt.

A loud Alarum. Enter Clifford wounded.

Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, Which while it lafted, gave King Henry light.

O Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,

More

More than my body's parting with my foul.

My love and fear glew'd many friends to thee, [Falling.
And now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt,
Impairing Henry, ftrengthning mif-proud York;
The common people fwarm like fummer flies,
And whither fly the gnats, but to the fun?
And who fhines now, but Henry's enemies?
O Phebus! hadft thou never giv'n confent
That Phaeton fhould check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car had never fcorch'd the earth:
And, Henry, hadft thou fway'd as Kings should do,
Or as thy father and his father did,

Giving no ground unto the houfe of York,
They never then had fprung like fummer flies.
I, and ten thoufand in this lucklefs realm,
Had left no mourning widows for our death;
And thou this day hadft kept thy chair in peace.
For what doth cherifh 'weeds, but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity?
Bootlefs are plaints, and cureless are my wounds,
No way to fly, nor ftrength to hold out flight:
The foe is mercilefs, and will not pity;
For at their hands I have deferv'd no pity.
The air hath got into my deadly wounds,

And much effufe of blood doth make me faint:
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the reft,

I ftabb'd your father's bofom; fplit my breaft. [He faints.
Alarum and Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard,
Montague, Clarence, 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 guft Command an Argofie to ftem the waves.

But think you, Lords, that Clifford fled with them?

War. No, 'tis impoffible he fhould efcape: For though before his face I fpeak the word, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave; And wherefoe'er he is, he's furely dead. [Clifford groans. Rich. Whofe foul is that which takes her heavy leave? A deadly groan, like life +'in death` departing.

See who it is.

Edw. And now the battel's ended,

If friend or foe, let him be gently used.

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, 5 Set his fell murth'ring knife unto the root From whence that tender fpray did fweetly fpring, 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; Inftcad whereof let his fupply the room.

Measure for measure must be answered.

Edw. Bring forth that fatal fcreech-owl to our houfe,
That nothing fung but death to us and ours:
Now death fhall ftop his difmal threatning found,
And his ill-boading tongue no more shall speak.
War. I think his understanding is bereft:

Speak, Clifford, doft thou know who speaks to thee?
Dark cloudy death o'er-fhades his beams of life,
And he nor fees, nor hears us what we say.

Rich. O, would he did! and fo perhaps he doth. 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,

Because he would avoid fuch bitter taunts
As in the time of death he gave our father.

Cla. If fo thou think'ft, vex him with eager words,
Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootlefs penitence,
War. Clifford, devife excufes for thy faults,
Cla. While we devife fell tortures for thy faults,
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am fon to York.

Edw.

4 and death's

5 But fet his

Edw. Thou pitied'ft Rutland, I will pity thee..
Cla. Where's Captain Margaret to fence you now?
War. They mock thee, Clifford, fwear as thou waft 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 foul,
If this right hand would buy but two hours life,
That I in all defpight might rail at him,

This hand fhould chop it off; and with the iffuing blood
Stifle the villain, whofe unftanched thirst

York and young Rutland could not fatisfie.

War. Ay, but he's dead. Off with the traitor's head, And rear it in the place your father's ftands. And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned England's royal King: From whence fhall Warwick cut the fea to France, And ask the Lady Bona for thy Queen. So fhalt thou finew both thefe lands together. And having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scatter'd foe that hopes to rife again: For though they cannot greatly fting to hurt, Yet look to have them buz t' offend thine ears. Firft will I fee the coronation,

And then to Britany I'll cross the sea,

T' effect this marriage, so it please my Lord.

Edw. Ev'n as thou wilt, fweet Warwick, let it be; For on thy fhoulder do I build feat:

my

And never will I undertake the thing

Wherein thy counsel and confent is wanting.
Richard, I will create thee Duke of Glofter,

And George, of Clarence; Warwick as our felf

Shall do and undo, as him pleafeth beft.

Rich. Let me be Duke of Clarence; George, of Gloʼster ; For Glofter's Dukedom is too ominous.

War. Tut, that's a foolish obfervation:

Richard, be Duke of Glo'fter: now to London,
To fee these honours in poffeffion.

[Exeunt.

A C T III.

SCENE I.

A Foreft in the North of England.

Enter Sinklo and Humphry, with cross-bows in their bands.

SINK LO.

UNDER this thick-grown brake we'll shroud our felves, For through this laund anon the Deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand,

Culling the principal of all the Deer,

Hum, I'll ftay above the hill, fo both may fhoot.
Sink. That cannot be: the noise of thy cross-bow
Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is loft:
Here stand we both, and aim we at the best,
And, for the time fhall not feem tedious,
I'll tell thee what befell me on a day,

In this felf-place where now we mean to ftand.
Sink. Here comes a man, let's ftay 'till he be paft.
Enter King Henry, with a prayer-book.

K. Henry. From Scotland am I ftol'n ev'n of pure love,
To greet mine own land with my wifhful fight:
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine,

Thy place is fill'd, thy fcepter wrung from thee,
Thy balm washt off wherewith thou waft anointed;
No bending knee will call thee Cafar now,
No humble fuitors prefs to speak for right:
No, not a man comes for redress to thee;
For how can I help them, and not my felf?

Sink. Ay, here's a deer, whofe skin's a keeper's fee:

This is the quondam King, let's feize upon him.

K. Henry. Let me embrace these four adversities;

For wife men say it is the wifeft course.

Hum, Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.