Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! FATH. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, K. HEN. How will the country, for these woful chances, Mis-think the king, and not be satisfied! SON. Was ever son so rued a father's death? FATH. Was ever father so bemoan'd a son? K. HEN. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe! Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. SON. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fili. My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, [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. 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. EXE. 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 Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! SCENE VI.-The same. A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded. CLIF. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, More than my body's parting with my soul. Giving no ground unto the house of York, 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; [Exeunt. 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. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? [CLIFFORD groans, and dies. RICH. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 't is Clifford; Who, not contented that he lopp'd the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murthering 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; 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: Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. [Attendants bring the body forward. WAR. I think his understanding is bereft: Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?— RICH. O, would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; "T is but his policy to counterfeit, words. Because he would avoid such bitter taunts GEO. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now? 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, This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain, whose unstanched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy. WAR. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's head, From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet look to have them buzz, to offend thine ears. First, will I see the coronation; And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea, To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. EDW. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be: For on thy shoulder do I build my seat; And never will I undertake the thing Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. RICH. Let me be duke of Clarence: George, of Gloster; For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. WAR. Tut! that 's a foolish observation; Richard, be duke of Gloster. Now to London, To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt. ACT III. SCENE I.—A Chase in the North of England. Enter Two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands. 1 KEEP. Under this thick-grown brake we 'll shroud ourselves; 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. 2 KEEP. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. 1 KEEP. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross-bow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 2 KEEP. Here comes a man, let 's stay till he be past. Enter KING HENRY, disguised, with a prayer-book. K. HEN. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No, Harry, Harry, 't is no land of thine; Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed: For how can I help them, and not myself? 1 KEEP. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. |