Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Not willing any longer conference,

Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.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 stay: These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. [Exeunt.

SCENE III.

A Field of Battle between Towton and Saxton, in Yorkshire1.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK.

War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe: For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid,

Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.

Enter EDWARD, running.

Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death!

For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. War. How now, my lord? what hap? what hope of good?

Enter GEORGE.

*Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair2; 'Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: 'What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?

Shakspeare has here, perhaps, intentionally thrown three different actions into one. The principal action took place on the eve of Palm Sunday, 1461. This battle (says Carte) decided the fate of the house of Lancaster, overturning in one day an usurpation strengthened by sixty-two years continuance, and established Edward on the throne of England.'

1111 Thus repulsed, our final hope
Is flat despair.'

Milton.

Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings;

And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.

Enter RICHARD.

Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?

Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk3,
Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance:
And, in the very pangs of death, he cried,–
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,-
Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!
So underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

• War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:

I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.

Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, *Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; * And look upon, as if the tragedy

*Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors?
Here on my knee I vow to God above,
I'll never pause again, never stand still,

Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, 'Or fortune given me measure of revenge.

Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; 'And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.*And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings!

3 The brother here mentioned is no person in the drama, but a natural son of Salisbury. Holinshed, relating the death of Lord Clifford in this action at Ferrybridge, on the 28th of March, 1461, says, 'He was slaine, and with him the bastard of Salis. bury, brother to the earl of Warwick, a valiant young gentleman, and of great audacitie.'

Look upon for look on, i. e. are mere spectators. Vide Winter's Tale, Act v. Sc 2:

What?-Look upon, my brother:'-&c. See a note on Act iv. Sc. 3, of the same play, p. 84.

Beseeching thee,-if with thy will it stands, That to my foes this body must be prey,— Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.

Rich. Brother, give me thy hand; and, gentle Warwick,

Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:I, that did never weep, now melt with woe, • That winter should cut off our spring-time so. War. Away, away! Once more sweet lords, farewell.

'Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars, that will stand to us; And, if they thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian` games:

This may plant courage in their quailing5 breasts; *For yet is hope of life, and victory.—

* Fore-slow no longer, make we hence amain. [Exeunt.

The same.

SCENE IV.

Another Part of the Field.

Excursions. Enter RICHARD and Clifford. Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, • Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York; And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland ;

5 Quailing is sinking into dejection.

6 To fore-slow is to delay, to loiter.

'Fore-slow no time; sweet Lancaster, let's march.*

―― non si te ferreus agger Ambiat.'

Marlowe's Edward III.

Statius, Theb. ii. v. 453.

And here's the heart that triumphs in their death, And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and brother,

To execute the like upon thyself;

And so, have at thee.

[They fight. WARWICK enters; CLIFFORD flies. Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.8.

[Exeunt.

SCENE V. Another Part of the Field.

Alarum. Enter KING HENRY.

* K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's war1,

* When dying clouds contend with growing light;
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,
* Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea,
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind;
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
'Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind:
Sometime, the flood prevails; and then the wind;
Now, one the better; then, another best;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered:
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
*Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory!
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too,
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both,
They prosper best of all when I am thence.

8 Two very similar lines in the preceding play are spoken of Richard's father by Clifford's father :

Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase;

For I myself must hunt this deer to death.'

The leading thought in both these soliloquies is borrowed from Holinshed, p. 665. This deadly conflict continued ten hours in doubtful state of victorie, uncertainlie heaving and setting on both sides,' &c. Steevens points out a similar comparison in Virgil, En. lib. x. ver. 354, which originates with Homer, Iliad xiv.

''Would, I were dead! if God's good will were so. For what is in this world, but grief and woe? * O God! methinks, it were a happy life2, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon as hill, as I do now,

To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour full complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will finish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live. * When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I cóntemplate; So many hours must I sport myself;

So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; *So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, * Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!

2 This speech is mournful and soft, exquisitely suited to the character of the king, and makes a pleasing interchange by affording, amidst the tumult and horror of the battle, an unexpected glimpse of rural innocence and pastoral tranquillity.-Johnson. There are some verses preserved of Henry VI. which are in a strain of the same pensive moralizing character. The reader may not be displeased to have them here subjoined, that he may compare them with the congenial thoughts the poet has attributed to him :

'Kingdoms are but cares;
State is devoid of stay;
Riches are ready snares,
And hasten to decay.

Pleasure is a privy [game],

Which vice doth still provoke ;

Pomp unprompt; and fame a flame;

Power a smouldering smoke.

Who meaneth to remove the rock

Out of his slimy mud,

Shall mire himself, and hardly scape
The swelling of the flood.'