North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief. As fhall revenge his Death, before I ftir. War. Poor Clifford! how I fcorn his worthless Threats. York, Will you, we fhew our Title to the Crown? If not, our Swords fhall plead it in the Field. K. Henry. What Title haft thou, Traitor, to the Crown? Thy Father was, as thou art, Duke of York, Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earl of March. Who made the Dauphin and the French to ftoop, War. Talk not of France, fith thou haft loft it all. And yet methinks you lofe: Father, tear the Crown from the Ufurper's Head. As thou lov't and honoureft Arms, Let's fight it out, and not ftand cavelling thus. fy. Rich. Sound Drums and Trumpet, and the King will Tork. Sons, Peace. K. Henry. Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to speak. War. Plantagenet fhall fpeak firft: Here him Lords, And be you filent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him, fhall not live. K. Henry. Think'ft thou that I will leave my Kingly Throne, Wherein my Grandfire and my Father fat? No; firft fhall War unpeople this my Realm; Lords? War. War. But prove it, Henry, and thou fhalt be King. K. Henry. I know not what to fay, my Title's weak: York. What then? K. Henry. And if he may, then am I lawful King: Exe. No; for he could not fo refign his Crown, War. Depos'd he fall be, in despite of all. 'Tis not thy Southern Power Of Effex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, Clif. King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong, K. Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words revive my Heart. [He Stamps with his foot, and the Soldiers fhew themselves. B 4 K Henry. K. Henry. My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word; Let me for this time reign as King. Tork. Confirm the Crown to me, and to mine Heirs, Clif. What wrong is this unto the Prince, your Son? Clif. How haft thou injur'd both thy felf and us! Weft. I cannot ftay to hear these Articles. 魯 North. Nor I. Clif. Come Coufir, let us tell the Queen thefe News. Clif. In dreadful War, may'ft thou be overcome, [Exeunt Nor. Cliff. Weftm. War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. Exe. They feek revenge, and therefore will not yield. K. Henry. Ah Exeter ! War. Why should you figh, my Lord? K. Henry. Not for my felf, Lord Warwick, but my Son, Whom I unnaturally fhall difinherit. But be it as it may; I here entail The Crown to thee, and to thine Heirs for ever: To fek to put me down, and Reign thy felf. York This Oath I willingly take, and will perform. Exe. Accurft be he that feeks to make them Foes. Sonet. Here they come down. York, Farewel, my gracious Lord, I'll to my Caftle. Norf. Norf. And I to Norfolk with my Followers. Mount. And I unto the Sea from whence I came. [Exe. K. Henry. And I with grief and forrow to the Court. Enter the Queen, and the Prince of Wales. Exe. Here comes the Queen, Whofe looks bewray her anger: I'll fteal away. [Going. K. Henry. Exeter fo will I: Hath he deferv'd to lofe his Birth-right thus ? Thou wouldst have left thy dearest Heart-blood there, If Prince. Father, you cannot difinherit me: you be King, why should not I fucceed? K. Henry. Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, fweet Son; The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforc'd me. Queen. Enforc'd thee? art thou King,and wilt be forc'd? I fhame to hear thee fpeak; ah timorous Wretch! Thou haft undone thy felf, thy Son, and me, And given unto the House of Tork fuch head, As thou shalt Reign but by their fufferance. To entail him and his Heirs unto the Crown, What is it, but to make thy Sepulchre, And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is Chancellor, and the Lord of Calais, Stern Faulconbridge commands the narrow Seas, The Duke is made Protector of the Realm, And yet fhalt thou be fafe? fuch fafety finds The trembling Lamb, invironed with Wolves. Had I been there, which am a filly Woman, The Soldiers fhould have tofs'd me on their Pikes, Before I would have granted to that A&t. But But thou preferr'ft thy Life before thine honour. The Northern Lords, that have forfworn thy Colours, Thus do I leave thee; come Son, let's away, Our Army is ready, come, we'll after them. K. Henry. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me fpeak. Queen. Thou haft fpoke too much already; get thee gone. K. Henry. Gentle Son Edward, thou wilt ftay with me? Queen. Ay, to be murther'd by his Enemies. Prince. When I return with Victory from the Field, I'll fee your Grace; 'till then I'll follow her. Queen. Come, Son, away, we may not linger thus. K. Henry. Poor Queen, How love to me, and to her Son, Exeunt Queen and Prince. Hath made her break out into terms of Rage. [Exit. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague. Mount. But I have reafons ftrong and forcible. Tork. Why, how now Sons and Brother, at a ftrife? Edw. No Quarrel, but a flight Contention. York. About what? Rich. About that which concerns your Grace and us, The Crown of England, Father, which is yours. York. |