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THE STUDENTS' HANDY EDITION.

THE WORKS

OF

SHAKESPEARE:

THE TEXT CAREFULLY RESTORED ACCORDING TO

THE FIRST EDITIONS; WITH INTRODUCTIONS,

NOTES ORIGINAL AND SELECTED, AND

A LIFE OF THE POET }

BY THE

REV. H. N. HUDSON, A.M.

REVISED EDITION', WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES.

IN TWELVE VOLUMES. VOL. VII.

BOSTON:

ESTES AND LAURIAT, 301 WASHINGTON STREET.

Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1871, by

NOYES, HOLMES, AND COMPANY,

In the Office of the Librarian ot Congress at Washington. Copyright, 1881,

BY ESTES AND LAUBIAT.

UNIVERSITY PRESS: JOBS WH.SOIC AND SON, CAMBRIDOT.

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INTRODUCTION 2.753

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THE FIRST PART OF HENRY VI. ,

IN 1502 Thomas Nasb put forth a pamphlet, entitled Pierce Penniless his Supplication to the Devil, in which occurs the fol- lowing : " Nay, what if I prove plays to be no extreme, but a rare exercise of virtue? First, for the subject of them : for the- most part it is borrowed out of our English Chronicles, wherein our forefathers' valiant acts, that have been long buried in rusty brass an<l worm-eaten books, are revived, and they themselves raised from the grave of oblivion, and brought to plead their aged honours iu open presence; than which what can be a sharper re- proof to these degenerate days of ours? In plays, all

cosenages, all cunning drifts, over-gilded with outward holiness, all stratagems of war, all the canker-worms that breed in the rust of peace. HID most lively anatomised. They show the ill success oi' trcas.m. the full of hasty climbers, the wretched end of usurp- ers, tin- misery of civil dissenttons, and how just God is evermore In punishing murder. And to prove every one of these allega- tions c.nilil 1 propound the circumstances of this play and that, if 1 meant to handle this theme otherwise than obiter."

This passage yields a clear inference that dramas founded on English history were a favourite species of entertainment on the London stage in 1592; and in the same connection Nash speaks of them as being resorted to in the afternoon by " men that are their own musters, as gentlemen of the court, the inns of court, ami tlio numliiT of captains and soldiers about London." His- torical plays liein.; in such special request, would naturally lead, oil' in whatsoever i if dramatic improvement was then forthcoming; and in fact the earliest growth of excellence appears to have In . n in this dc]>artmcnt. For in this, as iu other things, the demand would needs in n great measure regulate the supply, and thus cause the first advances to be made in the line where, to the com- mon interest of dramatic representation was added the further

O INTRODUCTION.

charm of national feeling and recollection, and where a large patriotism, looking before and alter, would find itself at home. Hence, no doubt, the early and rapid growth in England of the historical drama, as a species quite distinct from the old forms of tragedy and comedy. Nor, in this view of the matter, is there a.ny thing incredible in the tradition reported by Gildon. that Shakespearean a conversation with Hen Jouson, said that. •• find- ing' the nation generally verv ignorant of history, he wrote his historical plays in order to instruct the people in that particular." That lie cared to make ihe stage a place of instruction as well a> of pastime, appears in his Prologue to Henry VIII., where he says. — " Such as give their money out of hope they may beli-ve, may here find truth too." And something of this substantial ben- efit, it seems, was soon realized ; for in Heywood's Apology tor Actors, 1612, we are told, — " Plays have made the ignorant more apprehensive, taught the unlearned the knowledge of many famous histories, instructed such as cannot read in the discovery of our English Chronicles."

Of the historical plays referred to by Nash in the quotation wiih which we began, very few specimens have come down to us. In c«ir Introduction to the First Part of Henry IV. is a passage quoted from the same pamphlet, showing that one of the plays lie had in mind was The Famous Victories of Henry the Fifth, which is known to have been on the stage as early as 1588. because the leading comic part was sustained by Tarlelon, who died that year In our Ik roduction to King John, also, we saw that that play was founded on an older one entitled The Troublesome Reigii of King John, which was printed in 1591. In further illustration of this point, we have another passage in Nash's pamphlet : •• How would it have joyed brave Talbot, the terror of the French, to think that after he had lien two hundred year in his tomb he should triumph again on the stage ; and have his bones new embalmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators c.1 least, (a' several times,) who, in the tragedian that represents h's person, behold him fresh bleed- ing." Which evidently refers to THE FIRST PART OF HK.MIY THE SIXTH, wherein the last scenes of Talbot and his son are by far the most impressive and memorable passages, and are fraught with a pathos, which, in that day of unjaded and fresh sensibility could scarce fail to produce such an effect as is here ascribed to them. Inferior as that play is to many that followed it in the same .ine and from the same pen, no English historical drama of so early a date has survived, that approaches it, either as a work of art, of in the elements of dramatic ( feet. To audiences that were wont to be entertained by such frigid and artificial, or such coarse and vapid performances as then occupied the boards, The First Part of Henry VI. must have been irresistibly attractive ; a play which, perhaps for the first time, gave the English people " a stage am- ple and true with life," where, instead of learned echoes fi >a

INTRODUCTION. <

classical antiquity, their ears took in the clear free tones of nature, and where swollen verbiage aud strutting extravagance were re- placed with the quiet power of simplicity, and with thoughli spring-ing up fresh, home-born, and beautiful from the soil of common sense. That such was indeed the case, may be inferred from the words of Nash, and is confirmed by Henslowe's Diary, which ascertains that a play called Henry the Sixth was acted by •• Lord Strauge's men," March 3, 1592, and was repeated twelve limes in the course of that season. As this was not the company :.) which Shakespeare belonged, and in which be held a respecta- ble place as joint proprietor in 1589, it seems but reasonable to presume that the play had gone through a course of representa- tion by his own company before it was permitted to the ns« of another ; unless we suppose, what is indeed possible, that Hens- lowo's notes refer to another play on the same subject, gotten up perhaps in consequence of the success of the former at a rival theatre. At all events, the words of Nash, which could scarce point to any other than Shakespeare's Henry VI., and which clearly regard it as being already well known, fully warrant the conclusion that the play was written as early as 1589 or 1590.

The First Part of Henry VI. is not known to have been printed in any shape, till it appeared in the folio of 1623, where the tirst four acts are regularly marked, as are also the scenes in the third act, but at the beginning of the fifth act we have merely Scena Secunda, and at the beginning of the last scene Actus Qiiijitus. A question has been raised, whether the play was originally writ- ten as it is there printed. On this point we have no means of forming even an opinion, other than such probability as may ac. crue from the fact that several of the Poet's earlier efforts after- wards underwent revisal, the effects of which are in some cases quite apparent in certain inequalities of style and execution, some pans evincing a riper faculty and a more practised hand, aud ln-iiijj especially charged with those peculiarities which all men have agreed to call Shakespearian, as if they were written when by repealed trial he had learned to trust his powers, and dared to be more truly himself. The play in hand, however, yields lit- tle if any argument that way, there being no such inequalities but what might well enough result from the ordinary differences of ni.iiUT and of mental state; unless, perhaps, something may be gathered from such incoherences of representation as we discover in Joan of Arc, the latter end of whose character does not very well remember the beginning. The play, in short, though not wanting in what distinguishes Shakespeare from all other known writers of that lime, has little of that which sometimes distin- guishes Shakespeare from himself.

The aulhorship of King Henry VI. was for a long time un- questioned, till at last Theobald started a doubt thereof, which mainly through the dogged industry of M alone, has since growl

? THE FIRST PART OF HENRY VI.

into a general disbelief. This conclusion, and the arguments whereby it is reached, are built altogether on internal eviden?e, and proceed for the most part upon a strange oversight of what seems plain enough, namely, that Shakespeare's genius, great as it confessedly was, must needs have had to pass a time in yDUtb and pupilage. The main points in Malone's argument, the only ones indeed of any real weight, are the following : That the dic- tion and versification are of another colour than we find in Shake- peare's genuine dramas, the sense almost uniformly pausing or concluding at the end of every line, and the verse scarce ever having a redundant syllable ; and tnai the classical allusions are more frequent than in any one of his plays on English history, and do not rise naturally out of the subject, but seem inserted to show the writer's learning ; the play thus being in all these respects more like those preceding Shakespeare, than like those which he is known to have written : That there are several expressions which prove the author to have been familiar with Hall's Chron- icles, whereas Holinshed was Shakespeare's historian : That in Act iii. sc. 4, the king is made to say, — " When I was young, (as yet I am not old,) I do remember how my father said; " but Shakespeare knew that Henry could not remember any thing of his father, for inHhe Second Part, Act iv. sc. 9, he makes him say, — " But I was made a king at nine months old: " again, in Act ii. sc. 5, of the play in hand, the earl of Cambridge is said to have " levied an army " against his sovereign ; whereas Shakespeare in King Henry V. represents the matter as it really was.

We have endeavoured to give Malone's reasons with all the strength of statement they will bear, for, in truth, they are at best so unequal to the service put upon them, that one may well be loth to state them at all, lest he should seem wanting in candour ; at all events, to understate them would be more apt to provoke a charge of unfairness, than any possible overstatement to make them bear out the conclusion. Nevertheless, for i/iese reasons, or, if there were others, they have not been given, a large nuin ber of critics and editors have rested in the same judgment, bmong whom are found such respectable names as Morgann, Drake, Singer, and Hallam. Morgaun speaks of the play as " that drum-and-trumpet thing, — written, doubtless, or rather ex- hibited, long before Shakespeare was born, though afterwards repaired and furbished up by him with here and there a litile sentiment and diction." Hallam says, — " In default of a more probable claimant, I have sometimes been inclined to assign The First Part of Henry VI. to Greene." And Drake proposed that the play should be excluded from future editions of the Poet, as '• oflering no trace of any finishing strokes from the master-bard." These authorities, backed up as they are by a host of concurring names, must be our excuse for having stated, in the Introduction to The Two Gentlfimer •' Verona, that •• the three parts of Hem?

INTRODUCTION. V

VI. were adapted from preexisting stock copies, into which Shake- speare distilled something of the life and spirit of his genius ; " — a statement which we regret having made, being now per sunded that such a conclusion cannot well survive a careful sift- ing of the arguments whereon it has been based.

For in the first place, the diction and versification have not the qualities specified by Malone in nearly so great a degree as his statement would lead one to suppose. In variety of pause and structure, the verse, though nowise comparable to what the Poe« afterwards wrote, is a good deal in advance of any preceding dramas that have come down to us from other hands. On this score, the play may he safely affirmed to differ much less, for ex- tunplc. from .Shakespeare's King John and Richard II., than these do from his Henry VIII. ; or than A Midsummer-Nigrt's Dream and The Merchant of Venice from The Tempest and The Win- ter's Tale. Yet in these cases of course no one ha* ever thought of inferring diversity of authorship from difference of style. Be- sides, what might we expect, but that in these respects his first jicrformauces would be more like what others had done before, than what was afterwards done by himself? Would he not nat- urally begin by writing very much as those about him wrote, and lius l>y practice gradually learn to write better ? Surely his style must needs draw towards such models as were before him. till he bad time to form a style of his own : so that, had the play in hand oorne less of resemblance to such as then held the stage, this would have been a strong argument that it was not the work of a beginner, but of one who had attained considerable experience

and proficiency in his art As to the classical allusions, Malone

nere brought the power «f figures to bear, and found there were just twenty-two in the play. He also figured out, that of some* thing more than six thousand lines in the Second and Third Parts, Shakespeare was the sole author of somewhat less than one third , and he look the pains to mark Shakespeare's lines with asterisks for the convenience of all future readers and editors. Knighfs Shakespeare has a very learned and elaborate essay, wherein Malonc's argument is thoroughly knocked to pieces, showing, among other things, that in the lines thus painfully marked there arc no less than eighteen classical allusions and quotations, and those not a whit more apt and natural than Malone'j twenty-two Which seems to finish that part of the argument.

Again, touching the Chronicles used, it is to be observed that llolinshe-l's were first published in 1577, when Shakespeare was in his fourteenth year, and Hall's about thirty years earlier; and it is quite probable that the Poet became familiar with the elder chronicler in his boyhood, before the other got into circulation Moreover, Holinshed embodies in his own work the greater part of Hall, insomuch that, on most of the subjects handled by lli« Poet, the same matter, an . in nearly the same words, is found it

10 THE FIRST PART OF HENRY VI

both chroniclers, tlius often making- it uncertain to which of then he was immediately indebted. Remains hut to add on this point that Shakespeare's unquestioned dramas furnish numerous in- stances of acquaintance with Hall, as may be seen from time to time by the notes to this edition.

Finally, as to the discrepancies of representation, which Malone cites in proof of his point, these might indeed make somewhat for the purpose, but that similar discrepancies are not (infrequent y to be met with in the Poet's undoubted plays. For example, in this very play, Act i. sc. 3, Gloster says to Beaufort, — " I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat ; " and the Mayor a little after, — " This cardinal's more haughty than the devil:" yet in Act v. sc. 1, Exeter exclaims, — " What! is my lord of Winchester in- stall'd, and call'd unto a cardinal's degree 1 " as if that were the first notice he had of his brother's advancement Does this infer that the first and fifth acts of this play were written by several hands ? Another still more material discrepancy is adduced by Knight. It occurs in The Second Part of Henry the Fourth Act iii. sc. 1, where the following is put into the mouth of Boling broke :

" But which of you was by, (You, cousin Neville, as I may remember,) When Richard, with his eye brimfull of tears, Then check'd and rated by Northumberland, Did speak these words, now prov'd a prophecy 7 'Northumberland, thou ladder, by the which My cousin Bolingbroke ascends my throne;' — Though tlien, God knows, 1 had no such intent."

This refers to what took place in King Richard II., Act v. sc. 1, which was some time after the same Bolingbroke had said to the parliament, — "In God's name I'll ascend the regal throne." The mailer is pointed out in a note, Volume V., page 372 of this edition. It is hardly needful to add, that on the principle of Malone's rea- soning the two plays in question could not have been by the same author. Several other inaccuracies of this kind are remarked in our notes, and indeed occur too often in these plays to prove any thing but that either the Poet or his characters sometimes mada mistake*.

Thus it appears that upon examination Malone's argument re- ally cumes to nothing. But even if it were at all points sound, still it has not force enough to shake, much less to overthrow, the evidence on the other side. Of this evidence the leading particulars are thus stated by Mr. Collier : " When Hemiuge and Condell published the folio of 1623, many of Shakespeare's con- temporaries, authors, actors, and auditors, were alive ; and the player-editors, if they woii d have been guilty of the dishonesty would hardly have committed the folly, of inserting a play in then

INTRODUCTION. 1 1

volume wtiieb was not his production. If we imagine the fre- quenters of theatres to have beeu comparatively ignorant upoa inch a point, living authors and living actors must have Seen aware of the truth; and in the face of these lleminge and Con- Hell would not have ventured to appropriate to Shakespeare what had really come from the pen of another. That tricks of the kind were sometimes played by fraudulent booksellers, in single plays, is certainly true ; but Heminge and Condell were actors of repute, and men of character : they were presenting to the world, in an important volume, scattered performances, in order to ' keep the memory of so worthy a friend and fellow alive, as was our Shake- speare ; ' and we cannot believe they would have included any drama to which he had no title." It is further considerable, that lien Junson lent to their volume the sanction of his great name; — a man whose long intimacy with the Poet gave him every chance to know the truth, and whose unquestionable honesty forbids the thought of his having endorsed any thing savouring of fraud.

Furthermore, we have words from Shakespeare himself, which can scarce be interpreted otherwise than as claiming The First Part of Henry VI. for his own. Which words occur in the Epi iogue to the preceding play :

" Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd king Of Prance and England, did this king succeed , Whose state so many bad the managing, That they lost France, and made his England bleed : Which oft our stage hath shown; and for their sake, In your fair minds let this acceptance take.''

The sense of which manifestly is, that " the events whereby France was lost have been often set forth in plays of our writing;" it be- ing rather unlikely that the Poet would thus beg a favourable re- ception for his play, because a play written by somebody else, and on another subject, had formerly been well received.

Besides this strong external evidence, concurrent therewith is internal evidence more than enough to counterpoise Malone's ar- gument. This, to be sure, is not of a kind to be discovered bv mere verbal criticism, but few, it is to be presumed, will think the less of it on that account. Several parts of the play evidently look to a continuation, and are strangely out of place and un- meaning, but that they are to reappear in their after results. Such, especially, are the fourth scene of Act ii., where in the Temple Garden the two factions assume the while rose and the red as their respective badges ; the interview of Mortimer and Richard in the next scene ; the quarrel of Veruon and Basset in Act iv. sc. 1 ; and, above all, the undertaking of a marriage be- tween Henry and Margaro. in the last scene of the play. riu-->« scenes, be it observed. mor« than any others in the play, are ot ill*

[2 THE FIRST PART OF HENIIY VI.

author's invention ; which puts it quite out of reason that thej should have oeen meant to end with themselves : uuless designed and regarded as the beginnings of something yet to come, they are manifest impertinences, having1 nothing to do with the action of the play, viewed by itself. Of course the promises thus made are fulfilled in the plays immediately following. Here, then, we have the lines of an intrinsic connection between the several plays of the series, running them all together as parts of a larger whole. In short, the First Part is strictly continuous with the Second and Third, as these in turn are with King Kichard III. ; an unbroken Harmon} and integrity not only of design and action, but of com- position and characterization, pervading the four plays, and knit ting them together in the unity of individual authorship.

This matter will be unfolded more at length in our Introduct'ona to the Second and Third Parts, where we shall hope to make ap- pear how each preceding play of the series runs into the following, while, in turn, the latter in like manner carries out and completes the former. For the present, then, it shall suffice to state by way of instance in point, that in the character of the king we have tho same conception carried out in most orderly and consistent devel- opment through the three plays that bear his name. Than which, perhaps nothing could more clearly show how wide Malone is of the truth in assuming, as he all along does assume, that the Second and Third Parts were not written, either in their original or their amended form, by the same man who wrote the First. Injustice however, to Malone's understanding, it should be added, that he himself saw, what he had been blind indeed not to see, that the three plays are drawn in together as one continuous whole. Speak- ing of the First Part, he says, — "At this distance of time it is impossible to ascertain on what principle Heminge and Condell admitted it into their volume ; but 1 suspect they gave it a place as a necessary introduction to the two other parts, and because Shakespeare had made some slight alterations, and written a few lines in it." How unlikely it is that Shakespeare should at any time of his life have written a play and left it in such a state, as that a play by some other man should form a necessary introduc- tion to it, is more obvious than to need insisting upon. Yet this, strongly as it infers the point in question, is but half the argu- ment ; for it may be safely affirmed that the First Part is not more necessary as an introduction to the Second and Third, than desa latter are as a supplement and continuation of the First. We scarce know which were harder of belief, that Shakespeare should have so fitly carried out another's design, or that another should nave designed so aptly for Shakespeare's carrying-out.

Two other points there are that seem to require a passing no- lice ; one of \\jich is. the frequent performance, as remarked above, of a play called Henry the Sixth, by Lord Slrange's men at the Rose in 15'Ji ; — an establishment with which Shakesuear*

INTRODUCTION-. 13

urvor had any connection. This is conjectured to he the play referred to bv Nash in a passage already quoted, and which bat come down lo us as Shakespeare's, though written by somebody else. The argument of course supposes that a manuscript play Belonging to one company was not likely to he had for use at a rival theatre. Yet, as we have seen. Malone thinks that " Shake- speare had made some slight alterations, and written a few linet in it ; ' Murganu, that it was " repaired and furbished up by him with here and there a little sentiment and diction/' Now it does not well appear, but that one of Shakespeare's manuscripts may have got into the hands of Lord Strangc's men, as easily as one of theirs into his ; and he must have got hold of it before he re- paired it. Besides, it is clear that at that time the same play, though yet imprinted, was sometimes acted by different compa- nies ; for in the tille-page to the first edition of Titus Andronicui we have the words, — " As it hath sundry times been played by the Right Honourable the Earl of Pembroke, the Karl of Derby, the Earl of .Sussex, and the Lord Chamberlain their .Servants." Mr. Collier observes, accordingly, — " It is probable that prior to the year 1592 or 1593 the copyright of plays was little recognized 5 and that various companies were performing the same dramas at the same time, although perhaps they bad been bought by oue company for its sole use."

tin ; Coleridge, as may be seen by a note on the passage, delivers a most confident opinion that the first speech in the play coulil not have been written by Shakespeare ; though Mr. Collier informs us that in his Lectures in 1815 he quoted many line-; which he thought Shakespeare must have written. Now our ear does iniU-cd tell us that the metre of the passage in question is not Shakespearian ; but this is a very different thing from telling a 4 that Shakespeare could not have written it. The truth is. Shake- spoare has many passages which seem to us very un-Shakcs|»Mri- an ; and, as might be expected, both the quantity and the decree of such are in proportion as he was unpractised in his art. Mow far unlike himself he may have written at first, when, as must needs have been the case, be followed rather the style in vogut than the bent of his genius, our ear, we freely confess, is incom- petent to decide. Surely it was most natural that in his first efforts Shakespeare should endeavour to surpass his contemporaries in their own style ; and, for aught we know, he may have had at great facility of imitation as Burke, who, it is well known, wrote a pampnlet so much in the style of Lord Kolingbroke, that Holing, broke himself might almost have mistaken it for his own. i'er. baps no one, judging by the ear alone, or from the interval evi deuce merely, would ever believe that Burke's Essay on th* Sublime and Beautiful was written by the same man as Burke'f

•ions on the Revolution in France. These cooperations, and such as these, growing out of a larger

14 THE FIRST PART OK HKNRY VI.

criticism than that used by 3Ialone, have prevailed with many to withhold them from the more general opinion. To say nothing of Steevens, who in these mailers commonly shaped his course with a view to cross Malone, the better discernment of Johnson, Haz lilt. Knight, Verplanck. and of the German critics, Schlegel, Tieck, and (Jlrici, has held them fast to the old belief.

li must be owned, indeed, that The First Part of Henry VI., graining it to be Shakespeare's, can add nothing to his reputation. But i*. may throw not a little light ou his mental history, showing, along with several other plays, that his hand waxed cunning and mighty by long labour and discipline ; that in forming him for the office of universal teacher art had perhaps as great a share as nature ; an. i that Ben Jonson knew what he was about, when sav- ing with reference to him, — " For a good poet's made, as well as born." Moreover, the play yields acceptable testimony that Shakespeare, following the fashion of his time, had at first an excess of classical allusion ; that even his genius was not in the outset proof against the then besetting vice of learned pcd antry ; thus guiding us to the reasonable conclusion, that his later freedom from such excess and pedantry was the result of judg- ment, not of ignorance. Maloue look credit to himself, that he had vindicated Shakespeare from the reproach of having written so poor a performance; not perceiving, apparently, that such a course as he pursued must needs disserve ihe virtue of the man a great deal faster than it could serve the genius of the poet. It will be better seen hereafter, that he did in (act but vindicate him into the reproach of having been the most impudent literary thief that ever went " unwhipp'd of justice."

The Poet's more material drawings from history in this plr.y will be set forth from time to time in the form of notes. It will be observed that he took much greater freedom than usual with (he actual order of events, marshalling them here and there upon no settled principle, or upon one which it is not easy to discover. The play extends over the whole period from the death of Henry V., in August, 1422, when his son was but nine months old, till the marriage of the latter with Margaret of Anjou, which took place in October, 1444. In some cases the scattered events of several years are drawn together and presented in one view, as ii: the first scene, where we have the angry rupture of Gloster and Beaufort occurring at the same time with the funeral of Henry V., and re- ports coming in of losses in France, some of which did not take place till after the events represented in several of the subsequent scenes. In like manner, in the early part of the play the kin;;- is made much older, and in the latter part much younger, than he really was ; the effect of which, as it was probably meant to be, is, to give an impression of greater uuitv than were compatible with a more literal adherence to facts. So, agaii', the death of the Talbots is drawn back many years beforr the time of its

15

actual recurrence, in order, as would seem, that th«. foreign wars *nd the disasters attending them, may be despatched in the Firv, Part, and thus leave the following parts free for a more undis- iracted representation of the civil wars. And there are mar.y other similar misplacements of events, which are so fully noticed •8 they occur, that there is little need of detailing them here.

Upon the uliole, the leading purpose of the drama, considered hy Itself, appears to be, to set forth the growth of faction in Eng- land, the gradual crippling of the national energies thence result- ing, and the consequent loss of the conquests in France ; how domestic strife still propagated mischiefs abroad, while these mis- chiefs in turn envenomed that strife ; and how this long train of evils started into action as soon as the heroic spit it was with- drawn, in whom all the powers of the nation had stood and worked smoothly together, sweeping every thing before them. Such being- the scope of the play, so far as thai scope ends with the play itself, we may not unfitly apply to it one of Coleridge's most comprehensive passages. Discoursing how '• a drama may be properly historical,'' he says, — " The events themselves are immaterial, otherwise than as the clothing and manifestation of the spirit that is working within. In this mode, the unity resulting from succession is destroyed, but is supplied by an unity of a higher order, which connects the events by reference to the work- ers, gives a reason for them in the motives, and presents men in Ilieir causative character."

In comparison, however, of the Poet's other histories, it must be confessed that the arrangement of this play is inartificial and clumsy, the characterization loose and sketchy, and the action in- ron-cquential ; there being many changes of scene which involve no real progress, and often no reason appearing in the thing it-eit" but that the order might just as well have been quite other than it is : all which, to be sure, is but an argument that the author had not then acquired the power of moulding the stiff materials of histoiy to the laws of art and the conditions of dramatic elfect Yet. though, as a whole, the piece he somewhat rambling and uakr t, several of the parts are replete with poetic animation: maiy of the characters are firmly outlined, and in some of them, especially Beaufort and Talbot, the colouring is strong and well- laid ; though, perhaps, in regard to the former, the conception uas more of dramatic vigour than of historic truth.

In the character of the heroic maiden we seem to have an apt instance of struggle between the genius of the poet and the preju- dices of the Englishman. For it is observable that many of the noblest thoughts and images in the drama come from her ; and in her interview with burgundy the Poet could scarce have put into her mouth a higher strain of patriotic eloquence, bad she been re- garded as ic patron saint of his father-land. Hut to have repre- sented be broughout as a heaven-sent deliverer, besides being

16 THE FIRST PART OF HENRY VI.

repugnant to the hereditary sentiment of the author, had been sure to offend the prepossessions of his audience. It is to this cause, probably, that we should attribute whatsoever of discre- pancy there may be In the representation. All that is pure and beautiful in her life as depicted in the play resulted, no doubt, irom the Poet's universality of mind and hear) overbearing for a lima the strong natural, and, we may add, honourable current of na- tional feeling. Nor should it be unremembered that herein Shake- speare's course was against the whole drift of the Chronicles ; for the account they give of her is indeed consistent, but then it is consistently bad. How the catastrophe of her career in the drama may have affected a contemporary English audience, we of course have no means of knowing : but to us her behaviour thereabouts seems nowise of her character, but rather a piece of, perhaps jus- tifiable, hypocrisy, taken up as a sort of forlorn hope, and so form ing no part of herself; the impression of her foregoing life tliu* triumphing over the seeming sacrifice of honour and virtue at iis close. What a subject she would have been for Shakespeare's hand, could he have done, what no good man has been able to do, namely, viewed her in the pure light of universal humanity, free from the colourings and refractings of national prepossession !

Amidst the general comparative lameness of the drama in hand, several scenes and parts of scenes may be specified as holding out something more than a promise of Shakespeare's ripened power Such are the maiden's description of herself in Act i. sc. 2, be- ginning,— "Dauphin,! am by birth a shepherd's daughter ;" — and Talbot's account of his entertainment by the French while their prisoner, in sc. 4 of the same Act, where the story relishes ai every turn of the teller's character, and the words seem thoroughlj steeped rn his individuality. Not less admirable, perhaps, in its way, is the pungent and pithy dialogue between Winchester, Glos ter, Warwick, and Somerset, at the opening of Act iii., where the words strike fire all round, and where the persons, because they dare not speak, therefore out of their pent-up wrath speak all the more spitefully. Again, of whole scenes, the third in Act ii., be- tween old Talbot and the countess of Auvergne, is in the concep- tion and the execution a genuine stroke of Shakespearian art, full of dramatic spirit, and making a strong point of stage-effect in the most justifiable sense. And in the Temple-Garden scene, which is the fourth of the same Act, we have a concentration of true dramatic life issuing in a series of forcible and characteristic flash- es, where every word tells with singular effect both as a develop- ment of present temper and a germ of many tragic events And, on the higher principles of art, how fitting it was that this outburst of smothered rage, this distant ominous grumbling of the tempest, should be followed !-\ the subdued and plaintive tones that issue from the prison of the aged Mortimer, where we have the very spring aid cause of the gathering storm discoursed in a strain of

i.vriuii)'. CTION. 17

melancholy miisir.and a virtual sermon of revenge and slaughter breaihe'i from (tying lips. And of ihe fifth, sixth, and seventh sceacs in Act if., also, we may well say with Dr. Johnson, " If we take these icenet from Shakespeare, to whom shall they be given ? "

The chief merits of the play are well stated, though doubtlesj with some exaggeration, by Schlegel, the judiciousness of whose criticisms in the main hath ><eeu so often approved, that no apology seems needed for quotii.g him. " Shakespeare's choice " says be, •• fell first on this period of English history, so full of misery mud horrors of every kind, because to a young poet's mind the piuheiic is naturally more suitable than the characteristic. We do not here find the whole maturity of his genius, yet certainly its whole strength. Careless as to the seeming unconnectedness of contemporary events, be bestows little attention on preparation and development : all the figures follow in rapid succession, and announce themselves emphatically for what we ought to take them. The First Part contains but the forming of the parties of the White and Red Rose, under which blooming ensigns such bloody deeds were afterwards perpetrated ; the varying results of the war in France principally fill the stage. The wonderful saviour of her country, Joan of Arc, is portrayed by Shakespeare with an Eng- lishman's prejudice : yet be at first leaves it doubtful whether she has not in reality an heavenly mission ; she appears in the pure glory of virgin heroism; by her supernatural eloquence — and this circumstance is of the Poet's invention — she wins over tlie duke of Burgundy to the French cause ; afterwards, corrupted by vanity and luxury, she has recourse to hellish fiends, and comes to • miserable end. To her is opposed Talbol, a rough iron warrior, who moves us the more powerfully, as, in the moment when he is threatened with inevitable death, all his care is tenderly directed to save his son, who performs his first deeds of arms under hit eye. I be interview between the aged Mortimer in prison, and Richard Plantar-net, unfolds the claims of the latter to the u*ron« ana fortr.i bv its«lf, a beautiful tragic elegy."

PERSONS REPRESENTED

KINO HENRY THE SIXTH.

HUMPHREY, Duke of Gloster, Protector, ) ,. f , .

JOHN, Duke of Bedford, Regent of France, J "IS UnC

THOMAS BEAUFORT, Duke of Exeter.

tlENRY BEAUFORT, Bishop of Winchester, and Cardinal

JOHN BEAUFORT, Earl of Somerset; afterwards Duke.

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York.

THOMAS MONTACUTE, Earl of Salisbury.

RICHARD BEAUCHAMP, Earl of Warwick.

WILLIAM DE LA POOLE, Earl of Suffolk.

JOHN LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury.

JOHN TALBOT, his Son.

EDMUND MORTIMER, Earl of March.

Mortimer's Keeper, and a Lawyer.

SIR JOHN FASTOLFE. SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE

SIR WILLIAM LUCY. SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE.

WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower. Mayor of Londok

VERNON, of the White Rose, or York Faction.

BASSET, of tne Red Rose, or Lancaster Faction.

CHARLES, the Dauphin; afterwards King of France.

REIGNIER, Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples.

PHILIP THE GOOD, Duke of Burgundy.

Th« Duke of Aleneon. The Bastard of Orleans.

Governor of Paris. Master-Gunner of Orleans, and bis Son.

General of the French Forces in Bordeaux.

A French Sergeant. A Porter.

An old Shepherd, Father to Joan la Pucelle.

MARGARET OF ANJOU, Queen to Henry VI.

The Countess of Auvergne.

JOAN LA PUCELLE, commonly called Joan of Arc.

Fiends appearing to La Pucelle, Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and sev- eral Attendants both on the English and French.

SCENE, partly in England, and partly in France.

FI11ST PART OF HENRY VI.

ACT I.

SCENE I. Westminster Abbey.

Dead March. Enter the JFuncral of King HENRY the Fifth, attended by the Dukes of BEDFORD GLOSTER, and EXETER ; the Earl of WARWICK. the Bishop of WINCHESTER, Heralds, Sfc.

Bed. HUNG be the heavens with black,1 yield daw

to night ]

Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal * tresses in the sky, And with them scourge the bad revolting stars,

1 The upper part of the stage was in Shakespeare's time tech nically called the heartnt, and was used to be Aung- vith black, when tragedies were performed. To this custom the text proba- bly refers. So in Marston's Insatiable Countess :

" The stage of heaven is hung with solemn black ; A lime best fitting to act tragedies." H.

* The epithet cryital was often bestowed on comtt* by the old writers. Thus in a Sonnet by Lord Sterline, 16O4: " When a* ikcse crystal cornels whiles appear." — Coleridge thus comment* on this opening speech : •• Read aloud any two or three passages in blank verse even from Shakespeare's earliest dramas, as Love'* Labour's Lost, or Romeo and Juliet ; and then read in the same way this speech, with .special attention to the metre ; and if yon do not feel the impossibility of the latter having been written by Shakespeare, all I dare suggest is, that you may have ears, — ft* to has another animal, — but an ear you cannot have, me jmlice '

20 THE FIRST PART ACT 1

That have consented 3 unto Henry's death ! Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long ! England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.

Glo. England ne'er had a king, until liis time. Virtue he had, deserving to command : His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams ; His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings ; His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies, Than midday sun fierce bent against their faces. What should I say 1 his deeds exceed all speech » He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered.

Exe* We mourn in black : why mourn we not

in blood 1

Henry is dead, and never shall revive : Upon a wooden coffin we attend ; And death's dishonourable victory We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What ! shall we curse the planets of mishap, That plotted thus our glory's overthrow 1 Or shall we think the subtle-wilted French Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, By magic verses, have contriv'd his end 1 &

3 Consented here means conspired together to promote the death of Henry by their malignant influence on human events.

4 Thomas Beaufort, the present duke of Exeter, was son to John of Ghent by Catharine Swynford ; born out of wedlock, bul legitimated along- with three other children in the lime of Richard II. Of course therefore he was great uncle to King Henry VL At the death of Henry V. he was appointed governor nf the in- fant king, which office he held till his death in 1425. The Poet, however, prolongs his life til! 1444, the period of the First Part Holinshed calls him '• a right sage and discreet counsellor." The Dame Beaufort was derived from the place of his birth, which was beaufort castle in France. H.

* This is well explained by a passage in Reginald Scot's Dis eoverie of Witchcraft, 1584 : " The Irishmen will not sticke to

•C. 1. OF HENRY VI. 21

Win.8 lie was a king bless'd of the King of

kings.

Unto the French the dreadful judgment day So dreadful will not be, as was his sight. The battles of the Lord of Hosts he fought : The Church's prayers made him so prosperous.

670. The Church ! where is it] Had not church- men pray'd,

His thread of life had not so soon decay 'd : None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom, like a school-boy, you may overawe.

Win. Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art prt>

tector,

And lookest to command the prince and realm. Thy wife is proud ; she holdeth thee in awe, More than God, or religious churchmen, may.

Glo. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh ,

affirme that they can rime man or beast to death." See As You Like It, Act iii. sc. 2, note 17. H.

8 Henry Beaufort, known in history as " the great bishop of Winchester," was brother to the duke of Exeter. At this time he held the office of chancellor, and was associated with Exeter in the governing1 of the infant sovereign. The quarrel between niin and his nephew, the duke of Gloster, did not break out till 1425, though it had been brewing in secret for some time. In 1427 he was advanced by Pope Martin to the office of cardinal The matter is thus related by Holinshed : " After that the duke of Bedford had set all things in good order in England, he re- turned into France, first landing at Calis, where the bishop of Winchester, that also passed the seas with him, received the habit, bat, and diguitie of a cardinal). The late king, right deephe persiug into the unrestrainahle ambitious mind of the man, thai even from his youtn was ever to checke at the highest ; and also right well ascertcined with what intollerable pride his head should inone be swollen under such a bat ; did therefore all his life long keepo this prelat backe from that presumptuous estate. But now, the king being yoong, and the regent his freend, he obteined his purpose to his great profit. For by a bull legantin, which he purchased from Rome, he gt thered so much treasure, that no mai in inaner had monie but he , so that be was called the rich cat djnall of Winchester." n

!&J THE FIRST PART ACT I

And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go st Except it be to pray against thy foes.

Bed, Cease, cease these jars, and rest yt.ur minds

in peace

Let's to the altar : — Heralds, wait on us. — Instead of gold, we'll offer up our an. is, Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. Posterity, await for wretched years, When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck, Our isle be made a marish 7 of salt tears, And none but women left to wail the dead. — Henry the Fifth ! thy ghost I invocate ; Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils ! Combat with adverse planets in the heavens ! A far more glorious star thy soul will make. Than Julius Caesar, or bright 8

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My honourable lords, health to you all ! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture : Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans, Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.

Bed. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's

corse ?

Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death.

* The original has nourish here, which can hardly be made to yield any reasonable meaning. Pope thought nourish a misprint for roam/i, an old form of marsh ; and Ritson gives an apt quo- tation from Kyd's Spanish Tragedy : "Made mountains manh with spring tides of my tears." H.

8 So in the original, the same mark being used here as in sev- eral other ca?es to signify an interruption of the speaker. Ma. lone thought " this blank arose from the transcriber's or composi- tor's not being able to make out the name." Accordingly severa names have been proposed to (ill up the line, as Frantit Drake. by ''ope, and Jierenice, bv Johnson. H.

8( I. OK HENRY VI. 23

(Sin. Is Pans lust ? is Rouen yielded up? If Henry were recall'd to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the •rhost.

Eze. How were they lost 1 what treachery was us'd?

Miss. No treachery ; but want of men and money. Among the soldiers this is muttered, — That here you maintain several factions; And, whilst a field should be despatch'd and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have lingering wars with little cost ; Another would tly swift, but wanteth wings; A third nwn thinks, without expense at all, By guileful fair words peuce may be obtain'd. Awake, awake, English nobility ! Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot : Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ; Of England's coat one half is cut away.

Eze. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth their flowing tides.

Bed. Me they concern ; regent I am of France : — Give me my steeled coat ! I'll fight for France. — Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries.10

Enter another Messenger.

2 Mess. Lords, view these letters, full of bad mi*

chance.

France is revolted from the English quite, Except some petty towns of no import : The Dauphin, Charles, is crowned king in Rheims ,

• That is, England's flowing tides.

10 That is their miseries which have only a short intermission

24 THE FIRST PART ACT 1

The bastard of Orleans with him is join'd ; Ileignier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part ; The duke of Alen^on flieth to his side.

Exe. The Daupliin crowned king! all fly to him O ! whither shall we fly from tliis reproach ?

Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.

Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forward

ness 1

An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun.

Enter a third Messenger.

3 Mess. My gracious lords, to add to your laments Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight, Betwixt the stout lord Talbot and the French. Win. What ! wherein Talbot overcame ? is't so 1 3 Mess. O, no ! wherein lord Talbot was o'er

thrown :

The circumstance I'll tell you more at large The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleans, Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, By three-and-twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon : No leisure had he to enrank his men ; He wanted pikes to set before his archers ; Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of hedges, They pitched in the ground confusedly, To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. More than three hours the fight continued ; Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, Enacted wonders with his sword and lance. Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him '

SC. I. OF HENRY VI. 25

Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he slew:

The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms;

All the whole army stood agaz'd on him :

His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,

A Talbot ! a Talbot ! cried out amain,

And rush'd into the bowels of the battle.

Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up,

If Sir Jolui Fastolfe had not play'd the coward :

He being in the vaward, plac'd behind"

With purpose to relieve and follow them,

Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.

Hence grew the general wreck and massacre :

Enclosed were they with their enemies :

A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,

Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back ;

Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength.

Durst not presume to look once in the face.

Bed. Is Talbot slain 1 then I will slay myself. For living idly here in pomp and ease,

11 Vaward is an old word for the foremost part of an arm y, the fan. The passage seems to involve a contradiction ; but the mean- ing probably is, that Fastolfe commonly led the vaward, but was on this occasion placed behind. Monck Mason supposes the army to have been attacked in the rear, and remarks that in such cases ' the van becomes the rear." — The original has Falstajfe for Fas- t'tlfe ; but of course without any reference to the fat. funny old sinner of Henry IV., who had not been conceived when this play was written. Fastolfe was an actual person, greatly distinguished during these wars in France, and is well known in history. He was as far as possible from being a coward : nevertheless. Holin- ihed, speaking of the battle of Patay, June, 1429. where Talbot was taken prisoner, has the following: " From this hnttell departed without ante stroke striken sir John Fastolfe, the same yeare for his valiautnesse elected into the order of the garter. But. for doubt of misdealing in this brunt, the duke of Bedford tooke from him the image of saint George and his garter ; though afterward, by ineanes of freends, and apparent causes of good excuse, the *dme were to him again delivered against the mind of lord Tal* bot." R

26 THE FIRST PART ACT I

Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd.

3 Mess. O, no ! he lives, but is took prisoner, And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerford Most of the rest slaughter'd, or took, likewise.

Bed. His ransom there is none but I shall pay. I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne : His crown shall be the ransom of my friend : Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours. — Farewell, my masters ; to my task will I : Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make, To keep our great St. George's feast withal : Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake.

3 Mess. So you had need ; for Orleans is be

sieg'd :

The English army is grown weak and faint ; The earl of Salisbury craveth supply, And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.

Etc. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry

sworn,

Either to quell the Dauphin utterly, Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.

Bed. I do remember it, and here take my leave, To go about my preparation. [Exit

Glo. I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can, To view the artillery and munition ; And then I will proclaim young Henry king. [Exit

Exe. To Eltham will I, where the young king is, Being ordain'd his special governor; Aiid for his safety there I'll best devise. [Exit

Win. Each hath his place and function to attend 1 am left out ; for me nothing remains. But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office :

bO. IL OF HENRY VI. 27

The king from Eltliam I intend to steal,12

\nd sit at chiefest stern of public \veul. [Exeunt.

SCENE II. France. Before Orleans

Flourish. Entrr CHARLES, with his Forces; ALEN<JON, REIGNIER, and Others.

Char. Mars his true moving,1 even as in the

heavens,

So in the earth, to this day is not known : Late did he shine upon the English side ; Now we are victors, upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment but we have ? At pleasure here we lie near Orleans ; Otherwhiles, the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

Alen. They want their porridge, and their fat

bull-beeves :

Either they must be dieted like mules, And have their provender tied to their mouths, Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.

Reig. Let's raise the siege : Why live we idly

here ?

Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear : Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury,

11 This was one of the things charged upon the bishop by Gloster when their quarrel broke out. Thus in Holinshed : •• M . said lord of Winchester purposed and disposed him to set hart' oa the kings person, and to have remooved him from Klihatn. lije place that he was in, to Windsor, to the intent to put him in *ov crnanre as him list." 11.

1 •• You are as ignorant in the true movings of my muse as the astronomers are in the true morinyt of Mart, which to tlii* day ilwjv :oiild never attain to." — Gabriel Ifarrey's Hunt it uf : B\ Na'sl 1.VJ6, Preface.

23 THE FIRST PART ACT I

And he may well in fretting spend liis gall ; Nor men, nor money, hath he to make war.

Char. Sound, sound alarum ! we will rush on

them.

Now, for the honour of the forlorn French ! — Him I forgive my death, that killeth me, When he sees me go back one foot, or fly. [ Exeunt.

Alarums : Excursions ; afterwards a Retreat. Re- enter CHARLES, ALEN^ON, REIGNIER, and Others.

Char. Who ever saw the like? what men have 1 1 — Dogs ! cowards ! dastards ! — I would ne'er have

fled, But that they left me 'midst my enemies.

Rdg. Salisbury is a desperate homicide ; He fighteth as one weary of his life : The other lords, like lions wanting food, Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.2

Alcn. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records England all Olivers and Rowlands3 bred, During the time Edward the Third did reign More truly now may this be verified ; For none but Samsons and Goliases It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten ! Lean raw-bon'd rascals ! who would e'er suppose They had such courage and audacity?

Char. Let's leave this town ; for they are hare-

brain'd slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager :

1 That is, the prey for which they are hungry.

1 These were two of the most famous in the list of Charle- magne's twelve peers ; and their exploits are the theme of the old romances. From the equally doughty and uuheard-of ex- ploits of these champions, arose the saying of Gii'tng a Rowlawi for an Oliver, for giving a person as good as he brings.

8C. II. OF HENRY VI. 29

Of old I know them ; rather with their teeth The walls they'll tear down, than forsake the siege

Reig. I think, by some odd gimmals4 or device, Their arms are set like clocks still to strike on; Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do. By my consent, we'll e'en let them alone.

Alui. Be it so.

Enter the Bastard of Orkans.

Bast. Where's the prince Dauphin ? I have news for him.

Char. Bastard * of Orleans, thrice welcome to tin.

Bast. .M (-thinks, your looks are sad, your cheer*

appall'd :

Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence ? Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand : A holy maid hither with me I bring, Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven, Ordained is to raise this tedious siege, And drive the English forth the bounds of France. The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome;7

4 frimmals, or gimnwrt, as it is spelt in the original, mean* any kind of device or machine for producing motion Thus Dighy, Of Man's Soul : " Whence 'tis manifest that his answers do not {.r.-pi-ed upon set gimals or strings, whereof one bein^ struck moves the rest in a set order." And in Bishop Hall's Epistles : " The famous Kentish idol moved her eyes and hands by ihos« «*cret frirnmm which now every puppet play can imitate." H.

* Bastard was not in former times a title of reproach. Hurd,

0 a.s Letters on Chivalry and Romance, makes it one of the cir- •Mmstances of agreement between Heroic and Gothic manner*.

Vhat bastardy was in credit with both."

• Cheer in this instance means heart or courage, as in the ex- i «ssion. •' be of good cheer."

7 NVarhurton says, " there were no nine tibylt of Rome : it if

1 mistake for the nine Sibylline Oracles brought to one of the 'ar>]uins '' But the Poet followed the poprlar books of his day

30 THE FIRST PART ACT I

What's past, and what's to come, she can descry. Speak, shall I call her in ? Believe my words, For they are certain and unfallible.

Char. Go, call her in. [Exit Bastard.] But, first

to try her skill,

Fleignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place : <!iK-stion her proudly, let thy looks be stern. Uy tliis means shall we sound what skill she hath.

[Retires

Enter LA PUCELLE, the Bastard, and Others.

Reig. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous

feats ? Puc. Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile

me? —

Where is the Dauphin 1 — come, come from beliind ; I know thee well, though never seen before. Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me : In private will I talk with thee apart. — Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while Reig. She takes upon her bravely at first dash. Puc. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daugh- ter,

My wit untrain'd in any kind of art. Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd To shine on my contemptible estate : Lo ! whilst I waited on my tender lambs, And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, God's mother deigned to appear to me ; And, in a vision full of majesty, Will'd me to leave my base vocation, And free my country from calamity. Her aid she promis'd, and assur'd success :

which say that " the ten sibyls were women that had tht spirit oj prophecy, and that they prophesied of Christ."

SC. II. OF HKNRY VI. '31

In complete glory she revcalM herself; And, whereas I \vas black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infus'd on me, That beauty am I bless'd with, which you see. A.sk me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer unpremeditated : My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st, And thou shall find that I exceed my sex. Resolve on this,* — thou shall be fortunate, If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.

Char. Thou hast astonish'd me wilh thy liigh

terms ;

Only this proof I'll of thy valour make, — In single combat thou shall buckle with me, A'\d, if thou vanquishest, thy words are true ; Otherwise, I renounce all confidence.

PMC. I am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd

sword,

I 'eck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ; The which at Touraine, in St. Katharine's church- yard,

Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.' Char. Then come o' God's name : I fear no

woman.

Puc. And, while I live, I'll ne'er fly from a man.

[They Jig/tt.

8 Thai is, be convinced of it. Thus in 'Tis Pity She's a tVnore :

" This banquet is a harbinger of death To you and me ; resolve yourself it is*."

* This is taken from the chronirler : " Then at the Dolphini sending hy hir assigncment, from saint Katharins church of Fier- oois in Totiraine, where she never had becne, in a secret place there among old iron, appointed she hir sword to be sought out and brought hir, that with five floure delices was graven on both tides, wherewith she fought, and did manie slaughters by hir own* hands." H.

32 THE FIRST PART ACT I.

Char. Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon, And fightest with the sword of Deborah.

Puc. Christ's mother helps me, else J were too

weak. Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must

help me :

Impatiently I burn with thy desire ; My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued. Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be : "Tis the French Dauphin sueth thus to thee. Puc. I must not yield to any rites of love, For my profession's sacred from above : When I have chased all thy foes from hence, Then will I think upon a recompense.

Char. Mean time, look gracious on thy prostrate

thrall.

Reig. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. Alen. Doubtless he shrives this woman to her

smock ;

Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech. Reig. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no

mean ? Alen. He may mean more than we poor men do

know : These women are shrewd tempters with their

tongues. Reig. My lord, where are you ? what devise you

on ? Shall we give over Orleans, or no ?

Puc. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants! Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard. Char. What she says, I'll confirm : we'll fight it

out. Puc. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.

SC 11. OF HENRI VI. 3B

This night the siejre assuredly I'll raise : Expect St. Martin's summer,10 halcyon days Since I have entered into these wars. (ilory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Ti!!. hy hroad spreading, it disperse to nought. With Henry's death the English circle ends: Dispersed are the glories it included. Now am I like that proud insulting ship, Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once

Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove 1 " Thou with an eagle art inspired then. Helen, the mother of great Constantino, Nor yet St. Philip's daughters,1* were like thee. Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth, How may I reverently worship thee enough ?

Alen. Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege

Rdg. Woman, do what thou canst to save oui

honours : Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd.

Char. Presently we'll try : — Come, let's away

about it : No prophet will I trust, if she prove false.1*

[Exeunt.

10 That is, expect prosperity after misfortune, like fair weather at Martlemas, after winter has begun. The French have a pro- verbial expression, Est^ de St. Martin, for fine weather in winter

11 Mahomet had a clove " which he used to feed with wheat out of his ear ; which dove, when it was hungry, lighted on Ma- homet's shoulder, and thrust its bill in to find its breakfast, Ma- homet persuading the rude and simple Arabians that it was tb« Holy Ghost." — Raleigh't History of the World.

13 Meaning the four daughters of Philip mentioned in Acts xxi. 9.

" The matter of this scene is thus related by Holinshed : •• In time of this siege at Orleance, French stories saie. unto Charles the Dolphin at Cliinon was caried a yoong wench of an eightcene yeereii old called Joan Arc, borne at Domprin upon Mejse ii

34 THE FIHST PART ACT I.

SCENE 111. London. Hill before the Tower.

Enter, at the Gates, the Duke of GLOSTER, with Ma Serving-men.

Glo. I am come to survey the Tower this day : Since Henry's death, I fear there is conveyance.1 — Where be these warders, that they wait not here ! Open the gates ! 'tis Gloster that calls.

[Servants hwck

1 Ward. [Within.] Who's there that knocks so imperiously 1

1 Scrv. It is the noble duke of Gloster.

2 Ward. [ Within.] Whoe'er he be, you may noi

be let in.

I Scrv. Villains, answer you so the lord pro- tector 1 1 Ward. [ Within.] The Lord protect liim ! so

we answer him : We do no otherwise than we are will'd.

Glo. Who willed you 1 or whose will stands but

mine ? There's none protector of the realm but I. —

Loraine. Of favour was she counted likesome,of person strong- lie made and tnnnlie, of courage great, hardie, and stout wit hall, an iiiiderstander of counsels though she were not at them, great semblance of chastitie both of bodie and behaviour, the name of Jesus in hir mouth about all hir businesses, humble, obedient, and fasting diverse daies in the weeke. Unto the Dolphin in his gal- Iwie when first she was brought, and he shadowing himselfe be- hind, setting other gaie lords before him to trie hir cunning, she pickt him out alone, who thereupon had her to the end of the galferie, where she held him an houre in secret and private talke, that of his privie chamber was thought verie long, and therefore would have broken it off; but he made them a sign to let hir gaie on." H.

1 Conveyance anciently signified any kind of furtive knavery, nr p.-ivy stalling. See King Richard II., Act iv. sc. 1, note 24.

SC. III. OF HENRY VI. 36

Briiuk up* the gates, I'll be your warrantize: Shull I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms 7

Servants rush at the Tower Gates. Enter, to the.

Gates, WOODVILLE, the Lieutenant. Wood. [ Within.] What noise is tliis 7 what trai- tors have we here 7

Glo. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear ? Open the gates ! here's Gloster that would enter. Wood. [ Within.] Have patience, noble duke : 1

may not open ;

The cardinal of Winchester forbids : From him I have express commandment, That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in.

Glo. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him 'fore

me 7

Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate, Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook t Thou art no friend to God, or to the king: Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly.

1 Serv. Open the gates unto the lord protector; Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

Enter WINCHESTER, attended by Servants in tawny

Coats. Win. How now, ambitious Humphrey ! what

means this 7

Glo. PilPd priest,3 dost thou command me to be shut out 7

1 To break vp was the same as to break open. " They have broken up and have passed through the gate." Mirah ii. 13. " He would have watched, and would not have suffered his house to he broken up." Matthew xxiv. 43. •• The lusty Kentishineu. hoping on more friends, brake up the gaytet." Hall's Chron'cle.

' That is, bald, alluding to his shaven crown. 1'ield and pM or pilled, are only various ways of spelliug peeUd.

36 THE FIRST PART ACT 1.

Win. I do, thou most usurping proditor,4 And not protector, of tlie king or realm.

Glo. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator. Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord;* Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin : 6 I'll canvass 7 thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, If thou proceed in this thy insolence.

Win. Nay, stand thou back ; I will not budge a

foot:

This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain, To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.8

Gin. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back • Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth, I'll use to carry thee out of this place.

Win. Do what thou dar'st ; I'll beard thee to thy face.

4 Betrayer.

6 One of Gloster's charges against the bishop runs thus in Hoi nshed : " My said lord of Glocester affirmeth, that our sovreigne x>rd his brother, that was king Henrie the fift, told him on a time, that when, being prince, he was lodged in the palace of West minster, there was a man spied and taken behind a hanging of the chamber ; the which man, being examined upon the cause of his being there at that time, confessed that he was there by the stirring and procuring of my said lord of Winchester, ordeined to have slain the said prince there in his bed." H.

6 The public stews in Southwark were under the jurisdiction of the bishops of Winchester. So that licenses for keeping them wers of course issued on Beaufort's authority.

7 Cannabasser, French, is rendered by Cotgrave, " to canvass, or curiously to examine, search, or sift out, the depth of a matter." And Skinner says the same word was used for " shaking or beat ing hemp." — We have seen in a former note that Beaufort was not made a cardinal till 1427, which was two years after the rup- ture with Gloster. H.

8 The allusion here is well explained by a passage in The Travels of Sir John Mandeville : " In that place where Damascus was founded, Kayn sloughe Abel his brother." And Ritson has another of like drift from th« Polychronicou : " Damascus is ai much as to say shedding of blood ; for there Chaym slew Abel and hid him in the sand." u

SC. Ill OF HENRY VI. 'J7

Glo. What ! am I dar'd, and bearded t» jny

face ? —

Draw, men, for all this privileged place ; Blue-coats to tawny-coats.* Priest, beware your beard ;

[GLOSTER and his Men attack the Bishop. 1 mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly : Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat, In spitt of pope or dignities of Church; H< re by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.

Win. Gloster, thou'lt answer this before the |>oj>e.

Glo. Winchester goose,10 1 cry — a rope ! a rope! Now beat them hence ; why do you let them stay ? Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array Out, tawny coats ! — out, scarlet hypocrite !

Here OLDSTER'S Men beat out the CardinaTs Men, and in the hurly-burly enter the Mayor of London* and Officers.

May. Fie, lords ! that you, being supreme magis- trates,

Thus contumeliously should break the peace ! Glo. Peace, mayor ! thou know'st little of my

wrongs :

Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. Win. Here's Gloster too, a foe to citizens ;

' It appears from this, thai Gloster's servants wore blue coots, and Winchester's tawny. Such was the usual li- ery of servant! in the Poet's time, and long before. Stowe informs us that on a certain occasion the bishop of London " was attended on by a goodly company of gentlemen in tawny coats." H.

10 A Winchester goose was a particular stage of the disease contracted in the stews ; hence Gloster bestows the epithet on the bishop in derision and scorn. A person affected with that diteoae was likewise so called.

38 THE FIRST PART ACT T.

One that still motions war, and never peace,

Overcharging your free purses with large fines ;

That seeks to overthrow rel;gion,

Because he is protector of the realm ;

And would have armour here out of the Tower,

To crown himself king, and suppress the prince.

Glo. I will not answer thee with words, but blows. [Here they skirmish again.

May. Nought rests for me, in this tumultuous

strife,

But to make open proclamation. — Come, officer ; as loud as ere thou canst, cry.

Offi. All manner of men, assembled here in arms this day against God's peace and the king's, we charge and command you, in his highness' name, to repair to your several dwelling-places ; and not to wear, handle, or use, any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain of death.

Glo, Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law ; Rut we shall meet, and break our minds at large.

Win. Gloster, we'll meet, to thy dear cost, be

sure: Thy heart-blood I will have, for this day's work.

May. I'll call for clubs,11 if you will not away. This cardinal's more haughty than the devil.

Glo. Mayor, farewell : thou dost but what thou may'st.

Win. Abominable Gloster ! guard thy head ; For I intend to have it, ere long, [Exeunt.

May. See the coast clear'd, and then we will de- part.—

11 The practice of calling out Clubs, clubs ! to call out the Lon- don apprentices upon the occasion of any affray in the stree's, ha« been explained in As You Like It, Act v. sc. 2, note 3. It should appear that the shopkeepers were generally provided will) club* for the purpose.

SC. IV OF HENRY VI. 3U

Good God that nobles should such stomachs '* bear ! I myself fight not once in forty year.13 [Exeunt.

SCENE IV France. Before Orleans.

Enter, on the Walls, the Master-Gunner and his Son.

Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is be-

sieg'd, And how the English have the suburbs won.

»ST;H. Father, I know ; and oft have shot at them, Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim.

Gun. But now thou .-halt not. Be thou rul'd by

me :

Chief master-gunner am I of this town ; Something I must do to procure me grace. The prince's espials have informed me How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd, Wont,1 through a secret grate of iron bars In yonder tower, to overpeer the city ;

" Stomach is pride, a haughty spirit of resentment.

" The account of this stormy brawl, as given in the old chron- icles, runs substantially thus : The duke being absent a while, the bishop caused Ihe Tower to be garrisoned, and committed to the care of Richard VVoodville, with orders " to admit no one more powerful than himself." The duke, at his return, demanding lodg- ings in the Tower, and being refused, forthwith ordered the mayor to close the gates of the city against the bishop, and to furnish him with five hundred horsemen, that be might visit in safety the young king at Eltham. The next morning the bishop's retainers undertook to hurst open the gate on the bridge, and placed archers in the houses on each side of the road, declaring that, as their lord was excluded from the city, so they would keep the duke from leaving it. H.

1 The old copy reads went ; the emendation is Mr. Tyiwhilt's. The English wont, that is, are accustomed, to overpeer the city. It is the third person plural of the old verb wont. The emenda- tion is fully supported by the speech in the Chronicles on wbick tl « iu formed.

40 THE FIRST PART ACT I

Am thence discover how, with most advantage, The* may vex us with shot, or with assault. To intercept this inconvenience, A pi 'ce (if ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd ; And even these three days have 1 watch'd, If I could see them. Now, do thou watch, For I can stay no longer. If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word ; And thou shalt find me at the governor's. [Exit. Son. Father, I warrant you ; take you no care : I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them.

Enter, in an upper Chamber of a Tower, the Lords SALISBURY and TALBOT, Sir WILLIAM GLANS- DALE, Sir THOMAS GARGRAVE, and Others.

Sal. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return 'd ! How wert thou handled, being prisoner 1 Or by what means gott'st thou to be releas'd 1 Discourse, I pr'ythee, on tliis turret's top.

Tal. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner, Called the brave lord Ponton de Santrailles ; For him I was exchang'd and ransomed.8 But with a baser man of arms by far, Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me : Which I, disdaining, scorn'd ; and craved death, Rather than I would be so vile-esteem'd.3 In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd. But, O ! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart !

' Here again the Poet transposes the order of events. The affair in the lower at Orleans, which ended in the death of Sails- bury, took place October 23, 1428. The capture of Talbot by the French was at the battle of Patay, June 18, 1429 ; of San- trailles, by the English, in 1431. H.

3 The old copy reads "pil'd esteem'd." As vile was frequently epelt vild by Shakespeare and others, there can hardly be a doubt that it was the word.

SC. IV. OF HENRY VI. 41

Whom with my bare fists I would execute, If I now had him brought into my power.

SaL Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert enter- tain'd.

Tal. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious

taunts.

In open market-place prodnc'd they me, To be a public spectacle to all : Here, said they, is the terror of the French, The scare-crow that affrights our children so.4 Then broke I from the officers that led me, And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground. To hurl at the beholders of my shame. My grisly countenance made others fly; None durst come near for fear of sudden death. In iron walls they deem'd me not secure ; So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread, That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel, And spurn in pieces posts of adamant : Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had, That walk'd about me every minute-while ; And, if I did but stir out of my bed, Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd ; But we will be reveng'd sufficiently. Now it is supper-time in Orleans : Here, through this grate, I count each one, And view the Frenchmen how they fortify : Let us look in ; the sight will much delight thee. — Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale,

4 " This man [Talbot] was to the French people a very scourge and a daily terror, insomuch that as his person was fearful and terrible to his adversaries present, so his name and fame was •piteful and dreadful to the common people absent ; insomuch that women in France, to feare their yong children, would ctyt the Tadbot cometh."— Hall'* Chiamcle.

42 THE FIRST PART ACT 3

Let me have your express opinions, Where is best place to make our battery next. Gar. I think, at the north gate, for there stand

lords.

Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. TaL For aught I see, this city must be famish'd, Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

[Shot from the Town. SALISBURY and

GARGRAVE fall.

Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sin- ners !

Gar. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man ! TaL What chance is this, that suddenly hath

cross'd us ? —

Speak, Salisbury ; at least, if thou canst speak : How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men ? One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side struck off! — Accursed tower ! accursed fatal hand, That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy! In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame ; Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars ; Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up, His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. — Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury ? though thy speech doth

fail,

One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace : The sun with one eye vieweth all the world. — Heaven, be Thou gracious to none alive, If Salisbury wants mercy at Thy hands ! — Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it. — Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life 1 Speak unto Talbot ; nay, look up to him. — Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort ; Thou shall not die, whiles — He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me,

SO. IV. OF HENRT VI. W

As who should sny, " When I am dead and gone, Re-member to avenge me on the French." — Phntagenet,* I will ; and like thee, Nero, Play on the lute, heholding the towns burn : Wretched shall France be only in my name.

[Thunder heard; afterwards an Alarum, What stir is this 1 What tumult's in the heavenn * Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise ?

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, my lord ! the French have gath- er'd head :

5 This looks as if the Poet thought Salisbury's name Plantagenei, while in fact it was Thomas Montacute. Holinshed gives the fol- lowing account of him : " Thin earle was the man at that time, by whose wit, strength, and policie, the English name was much terrible to the French ; which of himselfe might both appoint, command, and doo all things in manner at his pleasure ; for suer- lie he was both painefull. diligent, and ready to withstand all dan- gerous chances that were in band, prompt in counsel), and of cour- age invincible ; so that in no one man men put more trust, nor any singular person wan the harts so much of all men." — The main event of this scene is thus related by the same writer : " In the tower that was taken at the bridge end, there was an high cham- ber, having a grate full of barres of iron, by the which a man might looke all the length of the bridge into the citie ; at which grate manie of the cheefe capteins stood manie times, viewing the cilie, and devising in what place it was best to give the as- sault. They within the citie well perceived this tooting hole, and laid a peece of ordinance directlie against the window. It so chanced, that the nine and fiflitb daie after the siege was laid the carle of Salisburie, sir Thomas Gargrave, and William Glasdale, with diverse other went into the said tower, and so .into the high chamber, and looked out at the grate, and within a short space the sonne of the maister-gunner, perceiving men looking out at the window, tooke his match, as his father had taught him, who was gone downe to dinner, and fired the gun ; the shot whereof brake and shivered the iron barres of the grate, so that one of the same bars slrake the earle so violentlie on the head, that n stroke awaie one of his eies and the side of his cheeke. > • Thomas Gargrave was likewise striken, and died within two daies. The earle was conveied to Meun on Loiie, when- alipj eight daics he likewise departed this world." w

44 THE FIRST PART ACT i

The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,

A holy prophetess, new risen up,

Is come with a great power to raise the siege.

[SALISBURY lifts himself up and groans TaL Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan ' It irks his heart he cannot be revenged. — Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you : — Pucelle or puzzel,8 dolphin or dogfish, Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels, And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. — Convey me Salisbury into his tent, And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare. [Exeunt, bearing out the Bodies.

SCENE V.

The same. Before one of the Gates.

Alarum. Skirmishings. TALBOT pursues the Dau- phin, and drives him : then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TAL- BOT. TaL Where is my strength, my valour, and my

force 1

Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them : A woman, clad in armour, chaseth them.

Enter LA PUCELLE. Here, here she comes. — I'll have a bout with thee;

• Puzzel means a dirty wench or a drab ; " from puzza, that is, malus factor," says Minsheu. Thus in Steevens's Apology for Herodotus, 1607 : " Some filthy queans, especially our puzzels of Paris, us^ this theft. ' And in Stubbe's Anatomy of Abuses 1595 : " Nor yet any droye nor puzzel in the country hut will carry a nosegay in her hand." It should be remembered that iu the Poet's time dauplr'n was always written dolpHn.

SC. V. OF HfcNHY VI. 45

Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee : Blood will I draw on thee,1 thou art a witch, And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st.

Puc. Come, come ; 'tis only I that must disgrace thee. [They Jig lit.

/Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail 1 My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage, And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, But I will chastise this liigh-minded strumpet.

Puc. Talbot, farewell ; thy hour is not yet come: I must go victual Orleans forthwith. O'ertake me, if thou canst ; I scorn thy strength. Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men; Help Salisbury to make his testament : This day is ours, as many more shall be.

[PucELLE enters the Town, with Soldiers.

Tal. My thoughts are whirled like a potter'a

wheel ;

1 know not where I am, nor what I do. A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal,* Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists . So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench, Arc from their hives and houses driven away. They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs ; Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.

[.A short Alarum-

Hark, countrymen ! either renew the fight, Or tear the lions out of England's coat ; Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead : Sheep run not half so treacherous* from the wolf,

1 The superstition of those times taught that he who could draw a witch's 1 lood was free from her power.

1 Alluding to Hannibal's stratagem to escape, by fixing bundles of lighted twigs on the horns of oxen, recorded by Livv.

3 So in the old copies, but commonly changed to timorous, fol lowing Pope. The change is apt enough, bu needless; the meat

4fl THE FIRST PART ACT L

Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard. As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves.

[Alarun:. Another Skirmish- It will not be : — Retire into your trenches : You all consented unto Salisbury's death, For none would strike a stroke in his revenge. — Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans In spite of us, or aught that we could do. O, would I were to die with Salisbury ! The shame hereof will make me hide my head.

[Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT and Ms Forces.

SCENE VI. The dame.

Enter, on the Walls, PUCELLE, CHARLES, REIGNIEB ALEN^ON, and Soldiers.

Puc. Advance our waving colours on the walls ! Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves : ' — Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.

Char. Divinest creature, bright Astrsea's daughter How shall I honour thee for this success 1 Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, That one day bloom 'd, and fruitful were the next.* — France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess ! —

ing being, no doubt, that sheep are not to be trusted or relied on because they are cowardly. H.

1 Thus the second folio ; the first omits wolves.

* Referring, perhaps, to what is thus set forth in the Faeri Qneene, Book iii. can. 6, stan. 42 :

" There is continual! spring, and harvest there Continual!, both meeting in one tyme : For both the boughes doe laughing blossoms beare, And with fresh colours decke the wanton pryme, And eke attonce the heavy trees they rlyme. Which seeme to labour under their fruites lode." H.

SC. VI OF IIKNRT VI. 47

Rrrmer'd is the town of Orleans:

More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.

Itcig. Why ring not out the bells aloud through- out the town ?

Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, And feast and banquet in the open streets, To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

Alcn. All France will be replete with mirth and

joy.

When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. Char. *Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is wou For which I will divide my crown with her ; And all the priests and friars in my realm Shall in procession sing her endless praise. A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear, Than Rhodope's, of Memphis, ever was:' In memory of her, when she is dead, Her ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius,4 Transported shall be at liigh festivals Before the kings and queens of France. No longer on St. Dennis will we cry, But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. Come in ; and let us banquet royally, After tliis golden day of victory.

[Flourish. Exeunt

1 tthodopr, or Rhodopis, a celebrated courtezan, who was • »Iave in the same service with ^Esop, at Samos. She obtained so much money by selling her favours at Nauo rates, that she is said to have erected at Memphis " the fairest and most commended of the pyramids."

4 •• In what price the noble poems of Homer were holden by Alexander the Great, insomuch that everie night they were layd under his pillow, and by day were carried in the *ich jewel coffer of Darius, lately before vanquished by him." — Pvttentutm'i Artt *f English I'of'tie, 1589.

ACT U

ACT II.

SCENE 1. The same.

Enter, to tht Gates, a French Sergeant, and two Sentinels.

Serg. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant : If any noise, or soldier, you perceive Near to the walls, by some apparent sign Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.1

[Exit, 1 Sent. Sergeant, you shall. Thus are poor ser-

vitors

When others sleep upon their quiet beds) Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and Forces with Scaling-Ladders ; their Drums beating a Dead March.

Tal. Lord regent, and redoubted Burgundy,*

1 The same as guard-room.

* The present duke of Burgundy is known in history as " Philip the Good." He succeeded to the title in 1419, at which time hi? lather was murdered. The murder is one of the darkest spots i& that land of perfidy and blood. In pursuance of a special ar rangement, he went to confer with the Dauphin at Montereau upou Yonne. At his coming1 he found that three barriers, each having a gate, had been drawn across the bridge, and was told that iht Dauphin had been waiting for him more than an hour. Having with twelve attendants passed two of the gates, which were quickh locked behind him, he there bent his knee to the Dauphin, who hat come forth to meet him ; and, while addressing him in that pos ture, was struck in the face with an axe by one of the Dauphin'? servants, and before he could make any defence, a multitude of wounds laid him dead on the ground. Of his attendants one es- caped, another was slain, and the rest remained as captives in the bauds of the assaisios. This rare piece of inhumanity had the

SC. I. OF HKNUY VI. 49

By \\hose approach tlie regions of Artois, Walloon, ujid Picardy, are friends to us, Tins happy night the Frenchmen are secure, Having all day carous'd and banqueted: Embrace we, then, this opportunity, As fitting best to quittance their deceit, Contriv'd by art, and baleful sorcery.

Bed. Coward of France! — how much he wrong!

his fame,

Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, To join with witches, and the help of hell.

Bur. Traitors have never other company. — But what's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure ?

Tal. A maid, they say.

Bed. A maid, and be so martial 1

Bur. Pray God, she prove not masculine ere

long ;

If underneath the standard of the French She carry armour, as she hath begun.

Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with

spirits :

God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot ; we will follow thee,

Tal. Not all together : better far, I guess,

rffect of throwing his son into close alliance with England, which was further strengthened and prolonged by the marriage of Bed- ford with bis sister in 1423. Her death, which occurred iu 1432, greatly loosened the bonds between her brother and the regent. At length, under the mediation of the pope, a congress of Eng- Ksh, French, and Burguudian ambassadors was held at Arras in 14.'i5, which ended in a reconciliation of Burgundy and the Dau- phin, who bad then succeeded to the crown of France. The Poet represents the detaching of Burgundy from England to have been brought about by Joan of Arc ; for which the only historical ground i>. i hat Joan wrote a letter to the duke urging upon him the course which he aiicrwards took H.

51) THK FIRST PART AC1 II

That we do make our entrance several ways - That, if it chance the one of us do fail, The other yet may rise against their force. Bed. Agreed: I'll to yond' corner. Bur. And I to tliia

Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make liia

grave. —

Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right Of English Henry, shall this night appear How much in duty I am bound to both.

[ T7tc English scale tJie Walls, crying, St. George f

A Talbot ! and all enter the Town. Kent. [Within.] Ann, arm ! the enemy doth make assault !

The French leap over the Walls in their Shirts. Enter, several Ways, the Bastard, ALEN^ON, REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready.

Alen. How now, my lords ! what, all unready * so 1

Bast. Unready ? ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well.

Reig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our

beds, Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.

Alen. Of all exploits, since first I follow'd arms Never heard I of a warlike enterprise More venturous or desperate than this.

Bast. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him

Alen. Here cometh Charles : I marvel how he sped.

3 Unready is undressed. Thus in Chapman's Monsieur D'Olive, 1606 : " You are not going to bed ; I see you are not yet un- ready.'1 A stage direction in The Two Maids of Moreclock, 1609, says, " Enter James unready, in bis nightcap, garterless." So in Cotgrave : "Deshabiller, to unclothe, make unreddie, put or take off clothes."

8C. I. OK HENIIY VI. 61

Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE.

Bast. Tut ! holy Joan was Iiis defensive guard.

Char. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame ? Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, Make us partakers of a little gain, That now our loss might be ten times so much ?

PMC. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his

friend ?

At all times will you have my power alike ? Sleeping or waking must I still prevail, Or will you blame and lay the fault on me ? — Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good, This sudden mischief never could have fallen.

Char. Duke of Alen^on, this was your default ; That, being captain of the watch to-night, Did look no better to that weighty charge.

Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely kept, As that whereof I had the government, We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd.

Rast. Mine was secure.

Reig. And so was mine, my lord.

Char. And, for myself, most part of all this night, Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, 1 was employ'd in passing to and fro, About relieving of the sentinels : Then how, or which way, should they first break in ?

Puc. Question, my lords, no further of the case, How, or which way : 'tis sure, they found some place But weakly guarded, where the breach was made ; And now there rests no other shift but this, — To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispere'd, And lay new platforms4 to endamage them.

4 Plans or schemes. The plot of a play was formerly called Uw platform

52 THE FIRST PART ACT II,

Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying, A Tat hot! A Talbot! They fy, leaving their Clotfiei behind. Sold. I'll be so bold to take what they have left.

The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword ;

For I have loaden me with many spoils,

Using no other weapop but his name.* [Exit.

SCENE II. Orleans. Within the Town.

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain,

and Others.

Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth. Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.

[.Retreat sounded

Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury ; And here advance it in the market-place, The middle centre of this cursed town. — Now have 1 paid my vow unto his soul : For every drop of blood was drawn from him, There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night.

* This retaking of Orleans is a fiction of the Poet's. In fact, little advance was made towards taking1 the city after the death of Salisbury ; though, according to Holinshed, Talbot, Fastolfe, and others, " caused bastilles to be made round about (he citie, and left nothing unattempted, that might advance their purpose." Thenceforth the siege was turned into a blockade, but supplies «nd reinforcements were still received into the place. We are told that on one occasion the French, emboldened by success made an assault on the bastille that was kept by Talbot ; who " issued foorth against them, and gave them so sharp an incoun- ter, that they, not able to withstand his puissance, fled like sheepe Detbre the woolfe again into the citie." After "the maid " and her convoy entered the town, which was in April, 1429, the Eng- lish did not stir from their entrenchments ; and in May they gave over and withdrew H.

4C. I. OF HENRY VI. 58

And, that hereafter ages may behold

What ruin happen'd in revenge of him,

Within their cliiefest temple I'll erect

A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr d :

Upon the which, that every one may read,

Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans,

The treacherous manner of his mournful death*

And what a terror he had been to France.

Hut, lords, in all our bloody massacre,

I muse,1 we met not with the Dauphin's grace,

His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,

Nor any of his false confederates.

Bed. 'Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the figlit

began,

Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, They did, amongst the troops of armed men, Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.

Bur. Myself, as far as I could well discern, For smoke, and duskv vapours of the night, Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin, and his trull ; When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves, That could not live asunder, day or night. Alter that things are set in order here, We'll follow them with all the power we have.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. All hail, my lords ! Which of -his prince j

train

Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts So much applauded through the realm of France ? Tnl. Here is the Talbot : who would speak witb him 1

1 That is. marvel

54 THE FIRST PART ACT II

Jtfess. The virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne, With modesty admiring thy renown, By me entreats, great lord, thou would'st vouchsafe To visit her poor castle where she lies ; J That she may boast she hath beheld the man Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

Bur. Is it even so 1 Nay, then, I see our wara Will turn into a peaceful comic sport, When ladies crave to be encounter'd with. — You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.

TaL Ne'er trust me then ; for, when a world of

men

Could not prevail with all their oratory, Yet hath a woman's kindness overrul'd : — And therefore tell her I return great thanks, And in submission will attend on her. — Will not your honours bear me company ?

Bed. No, truly, it is more than manners will ; And I have heard it said, unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Tal. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy, I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. Come hither, captain. [Whispers.] — You perceive my mind.

Copt. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly.

[Exeunt

SCENE III. Auvergne. Court of the Castle.

Enter the Countess and her Porter.

Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge ; , when you have done so, bring the keys to me Port. Madam, I will. [Exit

1 That is, where she dwells.

sc. in. or HENRY vi. 55

Count. The plot is laid : if all things fall out right 1 shall as famous he l>v this exploit, As Scytliian Tlioniyris by Cyrus' death. Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, And his achievements of no less account: Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, To give their censure ' of these rare reports.

Enter Messenger and TALBOT.

Mess. Madam, according as your ladyshiu desir'd By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come.

Count. And he is welcome. What ! is this the man ?

Mess. Madam, it is.

Count. Is tliis the scourge of France 1

Is tins the Talbot, so much fcar'd abroad, That with his name the mothers still their babes? I see report is fabulous and false : I thought I should have seen some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect, And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf: It cannot I>e, this weak and writhled* shrimp Should strike such terror to his enemies.

Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you ; lint, since your ladyship is not at leisure, I'll sort some other time to visit you.

Count. What means he now 1 — Go ask liim whithei he goes.

Mess. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady cravea To know the cause of your abrupt departure.

1 That is, judgment, opinion.

1 Writhled for wrinkled. Thus Spenser : " Her vrithltd skin u rough as maple rind." And Marston, in his fourth 8 itire " Cold vtrit'iltd eld, his lives web almost spent "

6<> THE FIRST PART ACT H

TaL Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief, I go to certify her Talbot's here.

Re-enter Porter, with Keys.

Coutn. If thou be he, then art thou j)risoner.

TaL Prisoner ! to whom ?

Count. To me, bloodthirsty crd,

And for that cause I train'd thee to my house. Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, For in my gallery thy picture hangs ; Cut now the substance shall endure the like ; And I will chain these legs and arms of tliine, That hast by tyranny these many years Wasted our country, slain our citizens, And sent our sons and husbands captivate.

TaL Ha, ha, ha !

Count. Laughest thou, wretch 1 thy mirth shall turn to moan.

TaL 1 laugh to see your ladyship so fond,3 To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow Whereon to practise your severity.

Count. Why, art not thou the man ?

TaL I am indeed

Count. Then have I substance too.

TaL No, no; I am but shadow of myself: You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here ; For what you see is but the smallest part And least proportion of humanity : I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, It is of such a spacious lofty pitch, Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.

Count. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce ;

* That is, foolish, silly, weak.

4 The term merchant, which was often applied to the lowest kind of dealers, seems anciently to have been used on thest fa-

•sC. lit. OF HENRY VI. t>7

He will Ivi here, and yet he is not here : How can these contrarieties agree? Tal That will I show you presently.

He urinds a Horn. Drums strike up ; a Peal of Ord- nance. The Gates being forced, enter Soldiers.

How say you, madam ? are you now persuaded That Talbot is but shadow of himself? These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, And in a moment makes them desolate.

Count. Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse : I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited,* And more than may be gather'd by thy shape. Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath; For I am sorry, that with reverence I did not entertain thee as thou art.

Tal. Be not dismay'd, fair lady ; nor misconster The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake The outward composition of his body. What you have done hath not offended me : No other satisfaction do I crave, But only, with your patience, that we may Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have ; For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.

Count. With all my heart; and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. [Exeunt.

mi'iar occasions in contradistinction to gentleman ; signifying that ihe person showed by his behaviour he was a low fellow. Thui in Romeo and Juliet, the nurse says, " I prav you, sir, what saucy merchant was this, that was so full of his ropery 1" — For the nonet is for the purpose or the occasion. See 1 Henry IV., Act i. sc. 2, note 19.

4 limited is reported, loudly announced. " The fame or brv\tt that one bath among the common people is lost or b rieil wbei nt dieth " — CoaDtr

58 THE FIRST PART ACT 11

SCENE [V. London. The Temple Garden.

Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WAR- WICK ; RICHARD PL.ANTAGENET, VERNON, and a Lawyer.

Rich.1 Great lords, and gentlemen, what means this silence ?

Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

Stiff. Within the Temple Hall we were too loud :

The garden here is more convenient.

Rich. Then say at once, if I maintain'd the truth;

Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error ? * Suff. 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law,

And never yet could frame my will to it ;

And therefore frame the law unto my will.

Som.3 Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then, be- tween us.

This Richard Plantagenet was son to the earl of Cambridge who was overtaken in a plot against the life of Henry V., and executed at Southampton. That earl was a younger brother of Edward, duke of York, who fell at the battle of Agincoun, and had no child to succeed him. So that on his father's side Rich- ard was grandson to Edmund of Langley, the fifth sou of Edward III. His mother was Anne, sister of Edmund Mortimer, eatl of March, and great-granddaughter to Lionel, duke of Clarence, who was the third son of Edward III. In 1425, the fourth year of Henry VI., Richard was restored to the rights and titles that had been forfeited by his father, and was made duke of York. After ihe death of Bedford, in 1435, he succeeded him as regent of France ; was recalled two years later, and appointed again in 1441. Some three years after, being supplanted in that office by uis rival, the duke of Somerset, he took the government of Ire- land instead, from whence he began to stretch forth his hand to the crown. H.

* Johnson observes that " there is apparently a want of oppo- sition between the two questions here ; " but there is no reason to suspect that the text is corrupt ; else being used in the sense, probably, of in other words.

' The earl of Somerset at this time was John Beaufort, grand- son to John of Ghent by Catharine Swynford, and of cuors<>

:. IV. OF HENRY VI. .Vj

War.* Between two hawks, which flies the higher

pitch,

Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Between two blades, which bears the better temper, Between two horses, which doth bear him best,* Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment: But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

Rich. Tut, tut ! here is a mannerly forbearance : The truth appears so naked on my side, That any purblind eye may find it out.

&mi. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, So clear, so shining, and so evident, That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.

Rich. Since you are tongue-tied, and so loth to

speak, In dumb significants a proclaim your thoughts :

nephew to the duke of Exeter and the bishop of Winchester. Fie was afterwards advanced to the rank of duke, and died in 1432, leaving his title to his brother Edmund ; his only surviving child being Margaret, who was married to the earl of Richmond, and thence became the mother of Henry VII. So that there were two dukes of Somerset in the time of this play, though the Poet does not distinguish them ; or rather he prolongs the life of John several years beyond its actual date. H.

4 The present earl of Warwick was Richard Beauchamp, sur- named the Good. He was esteemed the greatest of the captains formed in the great school of Henry V. After the death of E« eter, he was appointed governor of the young king in 1426. When York was first recalled from the regency of France, in 1437, Warwick succeeded him, with the title of Lieuienant-gen- iral and Governor of France, and died at Rouen in May, 1439. Shakespeare, however, keeps him alive till the end of the play, or at least does not distinguish him from Henry, who succeeded him. li

6 That is, regulate his motions most adroitly. We still say thai • horse carries himself well.

8 Dumb sifcniricants, \vb\rh Malone would have changed to tig tijicance, is nothing more than signs or wkens.

6U THE FIRST PART ACT Jl.

Let lam, that is a. true-born gentleman,

And stands upon the honour of his birth,

If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,

From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.

Som. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from oft' this thorn with me.

War. I love no colours ; 7 and, without all colour Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet.

Suff. I pluck this red rose, with young Somerset ; And say, withal, I think he held the right.

Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen ; and pluck no

more,

Till you conclude that he, upon whose side The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree, Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

Som. Good master Vernon, it is well objected:* f I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.

Rich. And I.

Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the

case,

1 pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white-rose side.

Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off \ Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, And fall on my side so, against your will.

Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, )pinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, jid keep me on the side where still I am.

Som. Well, well, come on : Who else 1

Colours is here used ambigrtously for tints and deceits.

Well objected is properly proposed, properly thrown in onf ay. Thus in Goulart's Admirable Histories, 1607 : " Because Sathan trans futures himself into an angellof ltght,I objected nun) and sundry questions to him."

,<C. IT. OF HENRY VI. 01

Lttio. [ To SOMERSET.] Unless my study and my

honks !)«• false,

The argument you held was wrong in you ; In sign whereof, I pluck a wlu'te rose too.

Rich. Now, Somerset, where is your argument !

Sam. Here, in my scabbard ; meditating that, Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.

Rich, Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our

roses ;

For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side.

Sow. No, Plantagenet,

Tis not for fear, but anger, that thy cheek? Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses,* And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.

Rich. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ?

&nn. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet 1

Rich. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain Jus

truth ; Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.

Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding

roses,

That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.

Rich. Now, by tlu's maiden blossom in my hand I srorn thee and thy faction,10 peevish boy.

Stiff. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.

Rich. Proud Poole, I will ; and scorn both him and thee.

Sit/ I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.

• It is not for fear that my cheeks look pale, but for anger; anger caused by this circumstance, namely, that thy cbeeki blush. iVr.

'•" The original has fa»h\on, which was reasonably changed by Thoobald to faction. H

62 THE FIRST PART ACT li

Sum. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole ! We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him

War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him.

Somerset :

His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence,11 Third son to the third Edward, king of England. Spring crestless 12 yeomen from so deep a root 1

Rich. He bears him on the place's privi ege,11 Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus.

Som. By Him that made me, I'll maintain my words On any plot of ground in Christendom : Was not thy father, Richard earl of Cambridge, For treason executed in our late king's days? And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt14 from ancient gentry? His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ; And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman.

Rich. My father was attached, not attainted ; Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor ; And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset, Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. For your partaker 1& Poole, and you yourself,

11 The Poet mistakes. Richard's paternal grandfather was Edmund of Langley, duke of York. His maternal grandfather was Roger Mortimer, earl of March, who was the son of Philippa the daughter of Lionel, duke of Clarence.

19 That is, those who have no right to arms.

13 It does not appear that the Tc^ult had any privilege of sai c tuary at this time, being then, as now, the residence of law slu dents. The author might imagine it to have derived some such privilege from the knights templars, or knights hospitallers, both religious orders, its former inhabitants. It is true, blows may ha v« been prohibited by the regulations of the society : the author per- haps did not much consider the matter, but represents it as suite*4 his purpose.

14 Exempt for excluded. See The Comedy of Errors, Act ii. gc. 2, note 10.

14 Partaker, in ancient language, signifies one who takes pari with another an accomplice, a confederate

SO. IV UK HENRY VI. 63

I'll note you in my book of memory, To scourge you for this apprehension : " Look to it well, and say you are well warr.'d

Sow. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still, And know us by these colours for thy foes; For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear.

Rich. And, by my soul, tliis pale and angry rose, As cognizance17 of my blood-drinking hate, Will I forever, and my faction, wear ; Until it wither with me to my grave, Or flourish to the height of my degree.

Suff. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambi- tion ! And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit.

Som. Have with thee, Poole. — Farewell, ambi- tious Richard. [Exit

Rich. How I am brav'd, and must perforce ei dure it !

War. This blot, that they object agaiast you

house,

Sh:ih be wip'd out in the next parliament, CalPd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster ; And, if thou be not then created York, [ will not live to be accounted Warwick. Mean time, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, Will I upon thy party wear this rose : And hnre I prophesy, — this brawl to-day, Grown to this faction in the Temple garden, Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night.

•• Theobald changed this to reprehension ; and Wartrartoi explains it by opinion. It rather means conception, or a cincti taken that matters are different from what the truth warraiiti A cog+izoMCf is a badge.

64 THE FIRST PART ACT I)

Rich. Good master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.

Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same

Law. And so will I.

Rich. Thanks, gentle sir. Come, let us four to dinner : I dare say, This quarrel will drink blood another day.

[Exeunt

SCENE V.

t

The same. A Room in the Tower.

Enter MORTIMER,' brought in a Chair by two Keepers

Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. — Even like a man new haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment ; And these gray locks, the pursuivants of death,' Nestor-like aged, in an age of care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.

1 This scene is at variance with history. Edmund Mortimer, who was trusted and employed by Henry V. throughout his reign, died of the plague in his own castle at Trim, in Ireland, !n l4il , being then only thirty-two years old. His uncle. Sir John Mor- timer, was indeed a prisoner in the Tower, ami was executed not long before the earl of March's death, being charged with an at- tempt to make his escape in order to stir up an insurrection ill Wales. The Poet was led into error by the popular historians of his time. Hall relates that, in the third year of Henry VI., •• Ed- moud Mortimer, the last earl of Marche of that name, (wine fie long time had bene restrayned from his liberty, and finally w.-ixed lame,) deceased without issue, whose inheritance descended to the Lord Richard Plantagenet." And in a previous passage he has observe 1, " The erle of Marche was ever kepte in t/ie cvurte under such i keeper that he could neither do nor attempt any thyng agaynste the kyng wythout his knowledge, aud died without issue."

* The heralds that, forerunning death, proclaim its approach

flC. V. OF HENRY VI. 65

These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,

Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent:3

Weak shoulders, overborne witli burdening grief,

And pithless4 arms, like to a wither'd vine

That droops his sapless branches to the ground :

Yet are these feet — whose strengthless stay is numb

Unable to support this lump of clay —

Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,

As witting I no other comfort have. —

But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come ?

i Keep. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber, And answer was return'd that he will come.

Mor. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.— Poor gentleman ! his wrong doth equal mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, (Hi-fore whose glory I was great in arms,) This loathsome sequestration have I had; And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd, Deprived of honour and inheritance : But now, the arbitrator of despairs, Just death, kind umpire* of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence [ would his troubles likewise were expir'd, That so he might recover what was lost.

Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET.

1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now in

come. Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come ?

' Exigent is here used for end ; as in Doctor Dodypoll, a com- edy, 1600 : " Hath driven her to some desperate exigent."

4 Pith is used figuratively for strength. •' Ncrvosus, sinewy ilrongly made in body, pithy." — Cooper.

" That is. he who terminates or concludes misery

60 THE FIRST PART ACT II

Rich. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd, Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes.

Mbr. Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck. And in his bosom spend my latter gasp : O ! tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks, That I may kindly give one fainting kiss. — And now declare, sweet stem from York's great

stock, Why didst thou say — of late thou wert despis'd?

Rich. First, lean thine aged back against mine

arm,

And in that ease I'll tell thee my disease.6 This day, in argument upon a case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me ; Among which terms he us'd his lavish tongue, And did upbraid me with my father's death ; Which obloquy set bars before my tongue. Else with the like I had requited him : Therefore, good uncle, — for my father's sake, In honour of a true Plantagenet, And for alliance' sake, — declare the cause My father, earl of Cambridge, lost his head.

Mor. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd

me,

And hath detain'd me all my flowering youth Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease.

Rich. Discover more at large what cause that

was ; For I am ignorant, and cannot guess.

Mor. I will, if that my fading breath permit, And death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,

' Disease for uneasiness, trouble, or grief. It is used in tbil sense hy other ancient writers.

MX V. OF HENRY VI. t!7

Depos'd his nephew 7 Richard, Edward's son,

The first-begotten, and the lawful heir

Of Edward king, the third of that descent :

During whose reign, the Percys of the north,

Finding liis usurpation most unjust,

Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne.

The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this,

Was for that (young king Richard thus remov'd,

leaving no heir begotten of his body)

I was the next by birth and parentage ;

For by my mother I derived am

From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son

To king Edward the Third ; whereas he

From John of Gaunt doth bring liis pedigree,

Being but fourth of that heroic line.

But mark : as, in this haughty great attempt

They laboured to plant the rightful heir,

I lost my liberty, and they their lives.

Long after this, when Henry the Fifth, —

Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, — did reign,

Thy father, earl of Cambridge, — then deriv'd

From famous Edmund Langley, duke of York, —

Marrying my sister, that thy mother was,

Again, in pity of my hard distress,

Levied an army, weening8 to redeem,

And have install'd me in the diadem ;

But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl,

And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,

In whom the title rested, were suppress'd.

7 Ntphevt has sometimes the power of the Latin nrpot, signify- ing grandchi.d, and is used with great laxity among our aurieut English writers. It is here used instead of cousin.

8 That is, thinking. This is another departure from history. Cambridge levied no army , but was apprehended at Southamp- ton, the night before Henry sailed from that town for France, OB the information of this very earl of March.

6H THE FIRST PART ACT II

Rich Of which, my lord, your honour is the last,

Mor. True ; and tliou seest that I no issue havet And that my fainting words do warrant death. Thou art my heir : the rest I wish thee gather , * But yet be wary in thy studious care.

Rich. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me. But yet, methinks, my father's execution Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.

Mor. With silence, nephew, be thou politic : Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, And, like a mountain, not to be remov'd. But now thy uncle is removing hence, As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd With long continuance in a settled place.

Rich. O, uncle ! would some part of my young

years Might but redeem the passage of your age !

Mor. Thou dost, then, wrong me ; as the slaugh- terer doth,

Which giveth many wounds, when one will kill. Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good ; Only, give order for my funeral : And so farewell ; and fair be all thy hopes ! And prosperous be thy life, in peace, and war !

[Dies.

Rich. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul ! In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, And like a hermit overpass'd thy days. — Well, 1 will lock his counsel in my breast; And what I do imagine, let that rest. — Keepers, convey him hence ; and I myself Will see liis burial better than his life. —

[Exeunt Keepers, bearing out MORTIMER.

9 That is, I acknowledge tbee to be my heir ; the consequence* growing from thence I wish you to follow out for yourself.

SC. V OK HKNKY VI. 00

Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort:10 — And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house, i doubt not but with honour to redress; And therefore haste I to the parliament, Either to be restored to my blood, Or make my ill" the advantage of my good.

[Eztt.

ACT III.

SCENE I. The same. The Parliament-House.*

Flourish, Enter King HENRY, EXETER, GLOSTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK ; the Bishop of WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and Others. GLOSTER offers to put up a Bill:* WIN- CHESTER snatches it, and tears it.

\Vtn. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines, With written pamphlets studiously devis'd, Humphrey of Gloster ? if thou canst accuse,

10 That is, oppressed by those whose right to the crown was •ot so good as his own.

11 My ill is my ill usage. The original has will, which was changed by Theobald to ill. There can be little doubt of the correctness of the change. H.

1 This parliament was held in 1426 at Leicester, though here represented to have been held in London. King Henry was now in the fifth year of his age. In the first parliament, which was aeld at London shortly after bis father's death, bis mother, queev Katharine, brought the young king from Windsor to the metroj»o is, and sat on (he throne with the infant in her lap.

* That is, artictesi of accusauou.

70 THE FIRST PART ACT IlL

Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, Do it without invention suddenly ; As I with sudden and extemporal speech Purpose to answer what thou canst object.

Glo. Presumptuous priest ! this place commands

my patience,

Or thou should'st find thou hast dishonour'd me. Tliirik not, although in writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen : No, prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness, Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissensions pranks, As very infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a most pernicious usurer ; Froward by nature, enemy to peace ; Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems A man of thy profession, and degree; And for thy treachery, what's more manifest, In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life, As well at London bridge, as at the Tower ? s Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,

3 This of course refers to the affair explained in Act i. sc. 3, note 13. Holinshed relates that upon the occasion of that furious riot " the archbishop of Canterburie and the duke of Quimbre,. called the prince of Portingale, rode eight times in one daie be- tweene the two parties, and so the matter was staied for a time. But the bishop of Winchester, to cleere himselfe of blame so far as he might, and to charge his nephue the lord protectour wiih a.. thr fault, wrote a letter to the regent of France." The regent, ie&:ning how things stood at home, made Warwick his lieutenant in France, hastened over to England, and called the parliament which began at Leicester March 25, 1426 ; " where the duke of Bedford openlie rebuked the lords in general!, bicause that they in time of warre, thorough their privie malice and inward grudge bad almost mooved the people to warre and commotion, in which time all men should be of one mind, hart, and consent. In this parlement the duke of Glocester laid certeine articles to the bishop of Winchester bis charge." H

«C. I. uK 1IKNRY VI. 71

The Ivinjr, tliy sovereign, is not quite exempt From envious malice of thy swelling heart.

1 1 V/i. (i luster, I do defy thee. — Lords, vouchsafe To give me hearing what I shall reply. If I wore covetous, ambitious, or perverse, As he will have me, how am I so poor 1 Or how haps it, I seek not to advance Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling t And for dissension, who preferreth peace More than I do, except I be provok'd ? No, my good lords, it is not that offends , It is not that, that hath incens'd the duke : It is, because no one should sway but he ; No one but he should be about the king ; And that engenders thunder in his breast, And makes him roar these accusations forth. But he shall know, I am as good —

Glo. As good !

Thou bastard of my grandfather! —

Win. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in another's throne 1

Glo. Ami not protector, saucy priest ?

IVtn. And am not I a prelate of the church ?

Glo. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, And useth it to patronage his theft.

Win. Unreverent Gloster !

Glo. Thou art reverend

Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.

Win. Rome shall remedy this.

War. Roam* thither then.

My lord, it were your duty to forbear.

Som. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.

* The jingle between roam and Rome is common to other wri- ters. Thus Nash, in his Lenten Stuff. 1599: -Three hundred thousand people roamed lo Rome for pt rgatorie pills."

72 THE FIRST PART ACT fli.

Methinks, my lord should be religious, And know the office that belongs to such.

War. Methinks, his lordship should be humbler It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.

Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near

War. State holy, or unhallow'd, what of that ? Is not his grace protector to the king 1

Rich. [Aside.] Plantagenet, I see, must hold his

tongue ;

Lest it be said, " Speak, sirrah, when you should ; Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords ? " Else would I have a fling at Winchester.

King. Uncles of Gloster and of Winchester, The special watchmen of our English weal, 1 would prevail, if prayers might prevail, To join your hearts in love and amity. O ! what a scandal is it to our crown, That two such noble peers as ye should jar. Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell, Civil dissension is a viperous worm, That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.—

[A Noise within : Down with the Tawny-Coats What tumult's tlu's ?

War. An uproar, I dare warrant,

Begun through malice of the bishop's men.

[A Noise again : Stones ! Stones

Enter the Mayor of London, attended.

May. O ! my good lords, and virtuous Henry. Pity the city of London, pity us! The bishop's and the duke of Gloster's men, Forbidden late to carry any weapon, Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble-stones ; And, banding themselves in contrary parts, DC pelt so fast at one another's pate,

9C. 1. OF HENRY VI. 73

That many have their giddy brains knock'd out: Our windows are broke down in every street, And we, for fear, compell'd to shut our shops.

Enter, skirmishing, the Retainers of GLOSTER and WINCHESTER, tenth bloody Pates.

King. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaughtering hands, and keep the peace. Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife.

1 Serv. Nay, if we be

Forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth.

2 Serv. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.

[Skirmish again. Glo. You of my household, leave this peevish

broil, And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.

3 Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a man Just and upright ; and, for your royal birth, Inferior to none but to his majesty :

And ere that we will suffer such a prince,

So kind a father of the commonweal,

To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,"

We, and our wives, and children, all will fight.

And have our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes.

1 Serv. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field, when we are dead.

[Skirmish again.

Glo. Stay, stay, I say !

6 That is. a bookish perton, a pedant, applied in contempt to a scholar. Inkhornisms and inJchorn-lernu were common expres- sions. " If one chance to derive anic word from the I.atine, which is insolent to their ears (as perchance they will take that phrase to be) they forthwith make a jest of it, and tenne it an inkhome. tearme." — Preface to Gvazzo's Civil Conversation, 15R6. Florio defines pedantaggine " a fond self-conceit in using of ink-jot w«.r<ls or affected Latiiiisms, as most pedants do. and is taken i> »n ill sense.''

74 THE FIRST PART ACT III

And, if you love me, as you say you do, Let me persuade you to forbear a while

King. O, how this discord doth afflict my sold' — Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold My sighs and tears, and will not once relent ? Who should be pitiful, if you be not 1 Or who should study to prefer a peace, If holy churchmen take delight in broils ?

War. Yield, my lord protector; — yield, Win

Chester ;

Except you mean, with obstinate repulse, To slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm. You see what mischief, and what murder too, Hath been enacted through your enmity ; Then, be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.

Win. He shall submit, or I will never yield.

Glo. Compassion on the king commands me

stoop;

Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest Should ever get that privilege of me.

War. Behold, my lord of Winchester, the duke Hath banish'd moody discontented fury, As by his smoothed brows it doth appear : Why look you still so stern, and tragical 1

Glo. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.

King. Fie, uncle Beaufort ! I have heard you

• preach,

That malice was a great and grievous sin ; And will not you maintain the thing you teach, But prove a chief offender in the same 1

War. Sweet king ! — the bishop hath a kindly gird.6

• A kindly gird is a kind or gentle reproof. A gird, properly is a cutting' reply, a sarcasm, or taunting speech. Falstaff says " Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me ; " and in The Tarn

SC. L OF HENRY VI. 75

F »r shame, my lord of Winchester ! relent ; What ! shall a cliild instruct you what to do ?

Win. Well, duke of Gloster, I will yield to thee; Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give.

Glo. [Aside.] Ay ; but, I fear me, with a hollow

heart. —

See here, my friends, and loving countrymen ; This token serveth for a flag of truce, Betwixt ourselves, and all our followers . So help me God, as I dissemble not !

Win. [Aside.] So help me God, as I intend n not!

King. O, loving uncle, kind duke of Glostei. How joyful am I made by this contract ! — Away, my masters ! trouble us no more ; Hut join in friendship, as your lords have done.

1 Sera. Content : I'll to the surgeon's.

2 Serv. And so will 1.

3 Serv. And I will see what physic the tavern

affords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, Sfc.

War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet We do exhibit to your majesty.

Glo. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick : — for,

sweet prince,

An if your grace mark every circumstance, You have great reason to do Richard right; Especially for those occasions At Eltham-place I told your majesty.

King. And those occasions, uncle, were of force : Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is, That Richard be restored to his blood.

ing of the Shrew, Raptista says, " Tranio hits you now ; " to which Lucentio answers, " I thank the* for that gird good Tranio "

76 THE FIRST PART

War. Let Richard be restored to his Wood ; So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd.

Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.

King. If Richard will be true, not that alone, Bat all the whole inheritance I give, That doth belong unto the house of York, From whence you spring by lineal descent.

Rick. Thy humble servant vows obedience, And humble service, till the point of death.

King. Stoop, then, and set your knee against my

foot ;

And, in reguerdon 7 of that duty done, I girt thee with the valiant sword of York : Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet ; 4nd rise created princely duke of York.8

Rich. And so thrive Richard, as thy foes may

fall!

And as my duty springs, so perish they That grudge one thought against your majesty !

All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke of York!

Som. [Aside.] Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of York !

Glo. Now will it best avail your majesty, To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France. The presence of a king engenders love

* Reguerdon is recompense, reward.

* Holiiished, after setting forth the reconciliation of the duke and the bishop, adds, — "But when the great fier of this dissen- tion was thus by the arbitrators, to their knowledge and judgment utterly quenched out and laid under boord ; all other controversies betweene other lords, taking part with the one partie or the other were appeased, and brought to concord, so that for joy the king caused a solemne fest to be kept on Whitsundaie ; on which d;iie no created Richard Plantagenet, sonne and heire to the erle of Cambridge, duke of York, not fores- ceing that this preferment should l<p his destruction " a.

SC. II. OK HENRY VI. 77

Amongst his subjects, and his loyal friends, As it disaniinates his enemies.

King. When Gloster says the word, king Henrj

goes; For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

Glo. Your sliips already are in readiness.

[Exeunt all but EXETER

Exe. Ay, we may march in England, or in France Not seeing what is likely to ensue. This late dissension, grown betwixt the peers. Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love, And will at last break out into a flame : As fester'd members rot but by degrees, Till bones, and flesh, and sinews, fall away, So will this base and envious discord breed.* And now I fear that fatal prophecy, Which, in the time of Henry nam'd the Fifth, Was in the mouth of every sucking babe, — That Henry, born at Monmouth, should win all, And Henry, born at Windsor, should lose all : Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish His days may finish ere that hapless time. [Exit.

SCENE II. France. Before Rouen.

Enter LA PUCELLE disguised, and Soldiers dressed Kkt Countrymen, with Sacks upon their Backs.

Puc. These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, Through which our policy must make a breach. Take heed, be wary how you place your words Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men, That come to gather money for their corn.

' That is, so will the malignity of this discord propagate itttlj and advance.

78 THE FIRST PART ACT 111

If \*e have entrance, (as I hope we shall,) And that we find the slothful watch hut weak, I'll by a sign give notice to our friends, That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.

1 Sold. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city And we be lords and rulers over Rouen ; Therefore we'll knock. [Knocks

Guard. [ Within.] Qui est Id?

Puc. Paisans, les pauvres gens de France : Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn.

Guard. Enter ; go in : the market-bell is rung.

[Opens the Gate.

Puc. Now, Rouen,1 I'll shake thy bulwarks to. the ground. [PucELLE, Sfc., enter the City.

Enter CHARLES, the Bastard, ALEN^ON, and Forces.

Char. St. Dennis bless this happy stratagem ! And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.

Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants : * Now she is there, how will she specify Where is the best arid safest passage in ?

Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower , Which, once discern'd, shows that her meaning is, — No way to that,3 for weakness, which she enter'd.

Enter LA PUCELLE on a Battlement ; holding out a Torch burning.

Puc. Behold ! this is the happy wedding torch, That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen ; But burning fatal to the Talbotites.

1 Rouen was anciently written and pronounced Roan.

* Practice, in the language of the time, was treachery, or in sulious stratagem. Practisants are therefore confederates in treachery.

3 That is, no way like or compared to that. See The Twv Gentlemen uf Verona, Act ii. sc. 4, note 10.

SC. II -)K HF.NIIY VI. 79

Ii(i.-;t. See, noble Charles ! the beacon of our

friend : Tlic burning torch in yonder turret stands.

Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, \ prophet to the fall of all our foes !

Alen. Defer no time ; delays have dangerous

ends :

Enter, and cry, The Dauphin ! presently, And then do execution on the watch. [ They enter

Alarums. Enter TALBOT, and English Soldiers.

Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy

tears,

If Talbot but survive thy treachery. — Pucellf, that witch, that damned sorceress, Hath wrought tliis hellish mischief unawares, That hardly we escap'd the pride 4 of France.

[Exeunt to the Town

4 Pride here signifies haughty power. So, afterwards, in Ac iv. sc. 6: "And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee." — Th« general sentiment of the English residing Juan of Arc is very well shown in that the regent, soon after the coronation at Rheitns, wrote to Charles VII., complaining that •• he had, by the allure- incut of a derelish irttrlt. taken upon him the name, title, and dig- nitio of the king of France," and challenging him to a trial of tn>- ((iicstion by private combat. Divers other choice vitupera- tive epithets are stuck upon the heroic maiden by the old chroni- cltTs. Mich as " false miscreant," " a damnable sorcerer suborned by Satan," and " hir pernicious practises of sorcerie and witche- rie ; '' and Holinsbed is down upon the prince for having to do with her: " Whose dignitie abroad was foulie spotted in this point, that conlrarie to the holie degree of a right christen prince, lie would not reverence to prophane his sacred estate by dealing ii develish practises with misbeleevers and witches." There needs but a little knowledge of men as they now are, to understand how the Knglish of that day should think their power so great that none Hut spirits could, and their rights so clear that none but de»il» would, thwart their purpose, B

SO THE FIRST PART ACT I1L

Alarum : Excursions. Enter from the Town BED- FORD, brought in sick in a Chair, with TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the English Forces. Then, enter on the Walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, the Bastard. ALEN^ON, and Others.

Puc. Good morrow, gallants ! want ye corn foi

bread 1

[ think the duke of Burgundy will fast, Before he'll buy again at such a rate : 'Twas full of darnel ; 8 do you like the taste ?

Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless courtesan ! [ trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. Char. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before

that time. Bed. O ! let no words, but .deeds, revenge this

treason. Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard ? break

a lance, 4nd run a tilt at death within a chair 1

Tal. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all de- spite !

Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, And twit with cowardice a man half dead 1 Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.

Puc. Are you so hot, sir? — Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace ;

* "Dirnel," says Gerarde in his Herbal, •' kurteth the eyts, ami maketh them dim. if it happen either in come for breade. or drinke." La Pucelle means to intimate that the corn she carried with her had produced the same effect on the guards of Rouen ; otherwise they would have seen through her disguise, and defeated her strat- agem.

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 81

If Talbot do lint thunder, rain will follow. —

[TALBOT and the Rest consult together. God speed the parliament ! who shall be th« speaker ?

Tal. Dare ye come forth, and meet us in the .field ?

Puc. Belike, your lordship takes us then for

fools, To try if that our own be ours, or no.

Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate, But unto thee, Alenc/m, and the rest : Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out ?

Alen. Signior, no.

Tal. Signior, hang! — base muleteers of France! Lake peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

Puc. Away, captains ! let's get us from the

walls;

For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks. — God be wi' you, my lord ! we came but to tell you That we are here.

[Exeunt LA PUCELLE, 8fc.,from the Watts.

Tal. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbot 's greatest fame ! — Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, Prick'd on by public wrongs, sustain'd in France* Cither to get the town again, or die : And I, — as sure as English Henry lives, And as his father here was conqueror ; As sure as in this late-betrayed town Great Caur-de-lion's heart was buried; So sure I swear to get the town, or die.

Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy votrm

TaL But ere we go, regard tliis dying prince, The valiant duke of Bedford. — Come, my lord,

S2 THE FIRST PART ACT 111.

We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age.

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me : Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, And will be partner of your weal, or woe.

Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.

Bed. Not to be gone from hence ; for once \

read,

That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick, Came to the field, and vanquished his foes.8 Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts, Because I ever found them as myself.

Tal. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast ! — Then, be it so : — Heavens keep old Bedford safe ! — And now no more ado, brave Burgundy, But gather we our forces out of hand, And set upon our boasting enemy.

\Exeunt BURGUNDY, TAL.BOT, and Forces, leaving BEDFORD, and Others

Alarums : Excursions. Enter Sir JOHN FASTOLFE and a Captain.

Cap. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such

haste 1

Fast. Whither away ? to save myself by flight : We are like to have the overthrow again.

• This is from Harding's Chronicle, who gives this account of llther Pendragon :

u For which the king ordained a horse-litter To beare him so then unto Verolame, Where Occa lay and Oysa also in feer, That Saynt Albons, now bight of noble fame, Bet downe the walles, but to him forthe thei came Wher in baitayl Occa and Oyssa were slayne, The felde lie had and thereof was ful fayne."

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 83

Cap. What! will you fly, and leave lord Talbot 1 Fast. Ay,

All the Tnlbots in the world to save my life. [Eft* Cap. Cowardly knight ! ill fortune follow thee.

[Exit.

Retreat : Excursions. Enter, from the Town, LA PUCELLE, ALEN<JON, CHARLES, fyc., and exeunt. flying-

Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when Heaven please, For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish man 1 They that of late were daring with their scoffs Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.

[Dies, and is carried off" in his Chair.

Enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and Others

Tul. Lost, and recover'd in a day again ' This is a double honour, Burgundy ; Let heavens have glory for this victory !

Bur. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart ; and there erects Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument.

TaL Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle

now? think her old familiar is asleep :

* This scene of feigning, fighting, jesting, dying, and running away, is a fiction of the Poet's ; though there are several passage* in the war in France, that might have furnished a hint and basit for it. The regent died quietly in his bed at Rouen, September 14, 1435. and was buried in the Cathedral. It is said that some years after Louis XI., being urged to remove his bones and de- face his monument, replied. — " I will not war with the remains of a prince who was once a match for your fathers and mine ; and who, were he now alive, would make the proudest of us tremble. Let his ashes rest in peace, and may the Almighty have mercy OB hi* soul! " •

84 THE FIRST PART Ai: ! Ill

Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his

gleeks 1 * What ! all amort 1 9 Rouen hangs her head for

grief,

That such a valiant company are fled. Now will we take some order in the town, Placing therein some expert officers, And then depart to Paris to the king ; For there young Henry with his nobles lies.

Bur. What wills lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget The noble duke of Bedford, late deceas'd, But see bis exequies fulfill'd in Rouen : A braver soldier never couched lance, A gentler heart did never sway in court; But kings and mightiest potentates must die, For that's the end of human misery. [Exeunt

SCENE III.

The same. The Plains near the City

Enter CHARLES, the Bastard, ALENC.ON, LA PUCELLE, and Forces.

Puc. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered • Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied. Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while, And like a peacock sweep along his tail ;

8 Gleek* are scoffs, girds. See A Midsummer-Night's Dream Act iii. sc. 1, note 10. a.

3 Thai is, quite cast rfinrn, or dispirited. See The Taming of the Shrew Act iv. sc. 3, note 3. H.

.SC. III. OF HENRY VI. 8£»

We'll pull his plumes, and take away his train, If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd.

Chnr. We have been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy cunning had no diffidence : One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.

Bast. Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world.

Alcn. We'll set thy statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint : Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good.

Puc. Then thus it must be ; tliis doth Joan de- vise :

By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, We will entice the duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot, and to follow us.

Char. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that France were no place for Henry's warriors ; Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped ' from our provinces.

Alen. Forever should they be expuls'd from France, And not have title to an earldom here.

Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end.

[Drums heard afar off".

Hark ! by the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris- ward.

An English March. Enter, and pass over at a distance, TALBOT and his Forces.

There goes the Talbot with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him.

1 That is, txtirpated, rooted out. So in Lord Sterline's Danuc 1603 " The world shall gather to extirp our name."

86 THE FIRST PART ACT III

A French March. Enter the Duke of BURGUNDT and Forces.

"Now, in the rearward comes the duke, and his : Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a parley ; we will talk with him.

[A Parley sounded

Char. A parley with the duke of Burgundy.

Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ?

Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy coun- tryman.

Bur. What say'st thou, Charles ? for I am march ing hence.

Char. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.

Puc. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France \ Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.

Bur. Speak on, but be not over-tedious.

Puc. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, And see the cities and the towns defac'd By wasting ruin of the cruel foe ! As looks the mother on her lovely babe, When death doth close his tender dying eyes, See, see, the pining malady of France ; Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast. O ! turn thy edged sword another way ; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help : One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom, Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign

gore ;

Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots !

Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

SO. lit. OF HKNRT VI. 87

Pur. Besides, all French and France exclaims on

thee,

Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. Whom join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation That \\ill not trust thee but for profit's sake ? When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, Who then but English Henry will be lord, And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive ? Call we to mind, — and mark but this, for proof; — Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe ? And was he not in England prisoner 1 But, when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free, without his ransom paid, In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends.* See, then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, return ; return, thou wand'ring lord Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.

* Throughout this play the Poet takes great liberties with the order of events, shuffling them bark and forth without much regard to their actual succession. The duke of Orleans, who had been t;ikrn prisoner at the battle of Agincourt in 1415, and retained as iurh in England ever since, was not released till November, 144), which was more than five years after the defertion of Burgundy from the English cause. The long captivity of Orleans was partly owinsj to the duke of Burgundy, there being an old grudge between the two families ; Burgundy still persuading the English to demand a larger ransom than Orleans was able to pay. Now the former MWgnt the enlargement of bis rival, and, to secure his friendship paid the ransom, and effected a marriage of him with his niece, Mary of Cleves. England, however, would not release Orleans till he bound himself tr return at the end of a year, umess he could induce the French king to a final peace ; and engaged at the same time to pay back the money on (he signing of the treaty or the return of the captive. The duke beiug for some time ex- rluilril from the French court through the intrigues of favourites, the time lor his return was prolonged ; till at last, in 14-44. he brought about an armistice for <wo years, and there the mallet M>em« In hive ended. H

88 THE FIRST PART ACT 111

Bur. I am vanquish'd : these haughty * words of

hers

Have batter'd me like roaring cannon shot, And made me almost yield upon my knees. — Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen ! And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace : My forces and my power of men are yours. - So, farewell, Talbot ; I'll no longer trust thee. Puc. Done like a Frenchman ; turn, and turn

again ! 4 Cliar. Welcome, brave duke ! thy friendship

makes us fresh.

Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. Alen. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold.

Char. Now let us on, my lords, and join our

powers ; And seek how we may prejudice the foe. [Exeunt

SCENE IV. Paris. A Room in the Palace.

Kntcr King HENRY, GLOSTER, and other

VERNON, BASSET, Sfc. To them TALBOT, and some of his Officers.

Tal. My gracious prince, and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have a while given truce unto my wars, To do my duty to my sovereign : In sign whereof, this arm, — that hath reclaim 'd To your obedience fifty fortresses,

3 Haughty is here used iirthe sense of lofty, high-spirited.

4 The inconstancy of the French was always the subject of satire. " I have read," says Johnson, " a dissertation written to prove that (he index of the wind upon our steeples was made in form of a cock tt> ridicule the French for their li-wittcm changes '

BC. IV. OF HENRY VL 80

Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength, Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem, — Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet ; And, with submissive loyalty of heart, Ascribes the glory of his conquest got, First to my God, and next unto your grace.

King. Is this the lord Talbot, uncle Gloster, That hath so long been resident in France ?

Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege.

King. Welcome, brave captain, and victorious

lord!

When I was young, (as yet I am not old,) I do remember how my father said,1 A stouter champion never handled sword. Long since we were resolved * of your truth, Your faithful service, and your toil in war ; Yet never have you tasted our reward, Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks, Because till now we never saw your face : Therefore, stand up ; and, for these good desert*, We here create you earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place.*

[Exeunt King HENRY, GLOSTER, TALBOT, a/id Nobles.

Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea,

1 Malone remarks that " Henry was but nine months old when his father died, and never saw him."

* That is. convinced. See Act i. sc. 2, note 8.

• Talbot was not made earl of Shrewsbury till 1442, morn than ten years after the crowning of Henry at Paris. And the honour was not conferred at Paris, but at London. The matter is thus seated by Holinshed : " About this season John, the valiant lord Talbot, for his approved prowesse and wisdome. as well in Eng- land as in France, both in peace and wurre so well tried, was cre- ated earle of Shrewibnrie, and with a companie of three thousand nu-ii scut againe into Norm-indie, for the better defense of th< fame." H

90 THE FIRST PART ACT III

Disgracing of these colours4 that I wear In honour of my noble lord of York, — Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'stl

Bas. Yes, sir ; as well as you dare patronage The envious barking of your saucy tongue Against my lord, the duke of Somerset. Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. Bas. Why, what is he 1 as good a man as York, Ver. Hark ye ; not so : in witness, take ye that.

[Striking him. Bas. Villain, thou know'st the law of arms is

such,

That, whoso draws a sword, 'tis present death ; * Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. But I'll unto his majesty, and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong, When thou shalt see, I'll meet thee to thy cost. Ver. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon aa

you; And, after, meet you sooner than you would.

[Exeunt.

* That is, the badge of a rose.

* By the ancient law before the conquest, Jighting in the king's palace or before the king's judges was punished itrith death. And still malicious striking in the king's palace, whereby blood is drawn, is punishable by perpetual imprisonment and fine, at the king's pleasure, and also with loss of the offender's right band. Stowe gives a circumstantial account of Sir Edmund Knevet being found guilty of this offence, with the ceremonials for carrying the sen- tence into execution. He petitioned the king to take his left »>and instead of his right ; and the king was pleased to pardon him altogether.

OT HENRY VI. 91

ACT IV.

SCENE I. The same. A Room of State.

Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, EXETER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WINCHESTER, WARWICK, TALBOT, the Governor of Paris, and Others.

Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown upon liis head. Win. God save king Henry, of that name the

sixth! Glo. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,

[Governor kneels*

That you elect no other king but him ; Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends, And none your foes, but such as shall pretend* Malicious practices against his state : This shall ye do, so help you righteous God ! *

[Exeunt Governor and his Train

1 Pretend was often used in the sense of purpose, or detign See Macbeth, Act ii. sc. 3, note 10 ; and Act ii. sc. 4, note 6. H.

1 The crowning of King Henry at Paris look place December 17,1431. Concerning that event Iloliusbed has the following: •' To speake with what honour he was received into the eitie of Paris, what pageants were prepared, and how richlie the gates, streets, bridges on everie side were hanged with costlie clothes of arr.is and tapestrie, it would be loo long a processe, and therefore 1 doo heere passe it over with silence." Nevertheless the occasion was but poorly attended save by foreigners, none of the higher French nobility gracing it with their presence. The ceremony of coronation was of old thought to have a kind of sacramental vir- tue, continuing the title of a new king, and rendering his person sacred. Thus the crowning of Charles at Kheims, which took place in July, 1429, operated as a charm to engage the loyalty of the people; and it was with this view that Joan of Arc urged it oo so vehemently, declaring it the main purpose of her celestial mission ; and during the ceremony she stood at the kind's side with her banner unfurled, und as soon as it was over feU on her

92 THE FIRST PART ACT JV

Enter Sit JOHN FASTOLFE.

Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from

Calais,

To haste unto your coronation, A letter was deliver'd to my hands, Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy.

TaL Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and thee ! I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the garter from thy craven's leg ;

[Plucking it off

Which I have done, because unworthily Thou wast installed in that high degree. — Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest : This dastard, at the battle of Patay,3 — When but in all I was six thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one," Before we met, or that a stroke was given, lake to a trusty squire, did run away : In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; Myself, and divers gentlemen beside, Were there surpris'd, 'and taken prisoners. Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss ; Or whether that such cowards ought to wear This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no.

knees, embraced bis feet, said her mission was at an end, and begged with tears that she might return to her former station. Charles indeed had been crowned once before, but it was nol done at Rheims, the ancient place of that ceremony, and therefore it proved ineffectual. This good old local religion put the regent upon great efforts to have Henry crowned there ; but herein he was stiil baffled, and, after trying about two years, he concluded to have it done at Paris, rather lhan not at all. The ceremony was performed by the bishop of Winchester, then cardinal. H.

3 The original has Poictiers, evidently a misprint for Patay as the battle of Poictiers was in 1357, and was made glorious by the nernism and chivalry of the Black Prince. For some account of the battle of Patay, see Act i. sc. 1, note 11.

SC. I. OK UKNRT VI. 93

Gb. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill beseeming any common man ; Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.

Tal. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords, Knights of the garter were of noble birth ; Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage, Such as were grown to credit by the wars ; Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress, But always resolute in most extremes.4 He, then, that is not fiirnish'd in this -sort, Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, Profaning this most honourable order ; And should (if I were worthy to be judge) Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.

King. Stain to thy countrymen ! thou hear'st thy

doom :

Be packing therefore, thou that wast a knight : Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death. —

[Exit FASTOLFE.

And now, my lord protector, view the letter Sent from our uncle, duke of Burgundy.

Glo. What means liis grace, that he hath chang'd

his style 1

No more but, plain and bluntly, — "To the king!*1 Hath he forgot he is his sovereign? Or doth this churlish superscription Pretend* some alteration in good will T What's here?

[Reads.] I have upon especial cause, — Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck,

* That is, in greatest extremities. More and mott were n»fxi bj our ancestors for greater and greatett.

6 Pretend here bears the literal sense of hold mtt ; not the sam* *•• (lull explained in note 1 ol' this scene. H

94 THE FIRST PAR1 ACT IV

Together with the pitiful complaints Of such as your oppression feeds upon, — Forsaken your pernicious faction, And join'd with Charles, the rightful king of France.6 O, monstrous treachery ! Can this be so ? That in alliance, amity, and oaths, There should be found such false dissembling guile 1 King. What ! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt ? Glo. He doth, my lord ; and is become your foe King. Is that the worst this letter doth contain? Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. King. Why, then, lord Talbot there shall talk

with him,

And give him chastisement for this abuse. — How say you, my lord ? are you not content 1 Tal. Content, my liege 1 Yes ; but that I aiu

prevented,7

1 should have begg'd I might have been employ'd. King. Then gather strength, and march unto him straight :

The matter of this representation is thus given by Holinshed . " The duke of Burgognie, to set a veile before the king of Eng- lands eies, sent Thoison Dore his cheefe herald to king Henrie with letters, excusing the matter hy way of information, that he was constrained to enter in this league with king Charles, by rie dailie outcries, complaints and lamentations of his people ; allcog- ing against him, that he was the onlie cause of the long continu- ance of the wars, to the utter impoverishing of his owne people, and the whole nation of France. The superscription of this letter was thus : To the high and mightie prince, Henrie, by the grace of God king of England, his wellbeloved cousine : neither naming him king of France, nor his sovereigne lord, as ever before that time he was accustomed to doo. This letter was much marvelled at of the councell, and they could not but be much disquieted, so far foorth that diverse of them offended so much with the untruth of the duke, that they could not temper 0"*ir passions, but open- lie called him traitor." H.

* Prevented is anticipated. See 2 Henry IV., A»,t i. sc. J note 25.

MC. I. OF HENRY VI. 96

Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason, And what offence it is to flout his friends.

Tal. I go, my lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exit

Enter VERNON and BASSET.

Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign !

Bos. And me, my lord ; grant me the combat too !

York. This is my servant : hear liim, noble prince !

Som. And this is mine : sweet Henry, favour him !

King. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to

speak. —

Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim ? Ajid wherefore crave you combat 1 or with whom ?

Ver. With him, my lord ; for he hath done me wrong.

Bos. And I with him ; for he hath done me wrong.

King. What is that wrong whereof you both

complain ? First let me know, and then I'll answer you.

Bos. Crossing the sea from England into Francei This fellow, here, with envious carping tongue Upbraided me about the rose I wear ; Saying, the sanguine colour of the leaves Did represent my master's blushing cheeks, When stubbornly he did repugn8 the truth About a certain question in the law, Argu'd betwixt the duke of York and him ; With other vile and ignominious terms : In confutation of which rude reproach,

• To repugn if to retitt. From the Latin rtpugno.

" Imperfect nature that repugneth law, Or law too bard that nature doth offend."

Dymoact II Pcut'nr Fido, 160t

96 THE FIRST PART ACT If

And in defence of my lord's worthiness, I crave the benefit of law of arms.

Ver. And that is my petition, noble lord : For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit, To set a gloss upon his bold intent, Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him; And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing, that the paleness of this flower Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.

York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left ?

Som. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will

out, Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.

King. Good Lord ! what madness rules in brain- sick men ;

When, for so slight and fl'ivolous a cause, Such factious emulations shall arise ! — Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

York. Let this dissension first be tried by fight, And then your highness shall command a peace.

Som. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone ; Betwixt ourselves let us decide it, then.

York. There is my pledge ; accept it, Somer set.

Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first.

Bos. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.

Glo. Confirm it so 1 Confounded be your strife ; And perish ye, with your audacious prate ! Presumptuous vassals ! are you not asham'd, With this immodest clamorous outrage, To trouble and disturb the king and us 1 And you, my lords, — methinks, you do not well To bear with their perverse objections ; Much less, to take occasion from their mouths

SC. I. . OK HENRY VI. 97

To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves : Let me persuade you take a better course.

Exe. It grieves his highness : — Good my lords,

be friends.

King. Come liither, you that would be combat- ants :

Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour, Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause. — And you, my lords, remember where we are ; In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation : If they perceive dissension in our looks, And that within ourselves we disagree, How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd To wilful disobedience, and rebel 1 Beside, what infamy will there arise, When foreign princes shall be certified, That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henry's peers, and chief nobility, Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France 1 O ! think upon the conquest of my father, My tender years ; and let us not forego That for a trifle, that was bought with blood ! Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. I see no reason, if I wear this rose,

[Putting on a red Rose

That any one should therefore be suspicious I more incline to Somerset than York ; Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both : As well they may upbraid me with my crown, Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd. But your discretions better can persuade, Than I am able to instruct or teach; And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let us still continue peace and love. — Cousin of York, we institute youi grace

9& THE FIRST PART . ACT IV

To be our regent in these parts of France : —

And good my lord of Somerset, unite

Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot ; —

And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,

Go cheerfully together, and digest

Your angry choler on your enemies.

Oursclf, my lord protector, and the rest,

After some respite, will return to Calais ;

From thence to England ; where I hope ere long

To be presented, by your victories,

With Charles, Alen^on, and that traitorous rout.

[Flourish. Exeunt the King, GLO., SOM. WIN., SUF., and BASSET.

War. My lord of York, I promise you, the king Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

York. And so he did ; but yet I like it not, In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

War. Tush ! that was but his fancy, blame him

not : I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.

York. An if I wist he did,9 — But let it rest; Other affairs must now be managed.

[Exeunt YORK, WARWICK, and VERNON.

Exe. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy

voice ;

For, had the passions of thy heart burst out, I fear we should have seen decipher'd there More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,

9 The old copy reads " if I wish he did ; " an evident typo- graphical error. York says he is not pleased that the king should prefer the red rose, the badge of Somerset, his enemy ; Warwick desires him not to be offended at it, as he dares say the king meant no harm. To which York, yet unsatisfied, hastily replies, in a menacing tone, "If I knew he did;" — but he instantly checks his threat with, let it rest. It is an example of a rhetorical figure not uncommon.

SC. II. OF HENKY VI. W»

Than yet can be imugiu'd or suppos'd.

But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees

This jarring discord of nobility,

This shouldering of each other in the court,

This factious bandying of their favourites,

But that it doth presage some ill event.

'Tis much, when sceptres are in children's hands,

But more, when envy breeds unkind division : "

There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.

[Em

SCENE II. France. Before Bordeaux.

Enter TALBOT with his Forces.

TaL Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpetei , Summon their general unto the wall. .

Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter, on the Walls, the General of the French Forces, and Ot/iers.

English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, Servant in arms to Harry king of England ; And thus he would : — Open your city gates, Be humble to us, call my sovereign yours, And do him homage as obedient subjects, And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power: But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace, You tempt the fiiry of my tliree attendants, Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;

10 Enry. in old English writers, frequently means malice, en- mity. Unkind is unnatural. See The Merchant of Venice, Act iv. sc. 1, note 1. And Much Ado about Nothing, Act iv. sc. 1, note 4.

1 The same figure occurs in the Chorus to Act i. of King Henry V. : •' At his heels, leash'd in like hounds, should famine, sword •IK! fire crouch for employment." So, likewise, in the answer of Henry V. to the citizens of Rouen, when he was besieging tha

J'H) THE FIRST PART ACT IV

Who, in a moment, even with the earth Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers, If you forsake the offer of our love.

Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge l The period of thy tyranny approacheth. On us thou canst not enter, but by death ; For, I protest, we are well fortified, And strong enough to issue out and fight : If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed, Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee . On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd, To wall thee from the liberty of flight ; And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, But death doth front thee with apparent spoil, And pale destruction meets thee in the face. Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament, To rive their dangerous artillery* Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo ! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit : This is the latest glory of thy praise, That I, thy enemy, 'due 3 thee withal ; For ere the glass, that now begins to run, Finish the process of his sandy hour,

city in 1419, as reported in Holinshed : " That the goddesse of battell called Bellona, had three handmaidens ever of necessitie attending upon hir, as blood, fire, and famine. And whereas il iaie in his choise to use them all three, yea, two, or one of them, at his pleasure, he had appointed onlie the meekest of those three damsels to punish them of that citie, till they were brought to rea- son." H.

z " To rive their dangerous artillery " is merely a figurative way of expressing to discharge it. To rive is to burst ; and burst ia applied by Shakespeare more than once to thunder, or to a similai sound.

' 'Due foi endue, which was often used in the sense of invert.

SC. 11. OF HEMIY VI. 101

These eyes, that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead.

[Drum afar off,

Hark ! hark ! the Dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul ; And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

[Exeunt General, <Sf c., from the Walls* Tal. He fables not ; I hear the enemy : — Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings. — O, negligent and heedless discipline ! How are \ve park'd, and bounded in a pale ! A little herd of England's timorous deer, Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French cur« ' If we be English deer, be then in blood ;4 Not rascal-like,5 to fall down with a pinch ; But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel, And make the cowards stand aloof at bay : Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends. God, and St. George, Talbot, and England's right, Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight !

[Exeunt.

* In blood is a term of the forest ; a deer was said to be in blood \%-hen in vigour or in good condition, and full of courage. We liave the same expression in Love's Labour's Lost : " The deer was. as you know, in blood."

• This use of rascal is well explained by a passage from Vers- legan's Restitution of Decayed Intelligence, 1606 : " As before I li,:\t: showed how the ill names of beasts, in their most contempti- ble state, are in contempt applied to women ; so is rascall, being the name for an ill-favoured, Icane, and worthlesse dtere, commonly applied unto such men as are held of no credit or worth." Tb« figure is kept up by using headt of iteel for lancet, referring t« the deer's horni. H.

102 THE FIRST PART ACT If

SCENE III. Plains in Gascony.

Enter YORK, with Forces ; to him, a Messenger.

York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again, That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin ?

Mess. They are return 'd, my lord ; and give it out, That he is march'd to Bordeaux with his power, To fight with Talbot. As he march'd along, By your espials were discovered Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led ; Which join'd with him, and made their march for Bordeaux.

York. A plague upon that villain Somerset, That thus delays my promised supply Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege ! Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid ; And I am lowted ' by a traitor villain, And cannot help the noble chevalier : God comfort him in this necessity ! If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY.

Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength,

1 This word has been variously explained by the commentators. Richardson's explanation seems every way satisfactory, which is that the past participle of the verb to low is lowed, low'd, iowt " and that again of this participle we have made another verb, viz.. to lowt, to do, or to bear one's self as the lowed person does." So that the proper meaning of the word plainly is, to humble, de- press, cast down, or debase. In the text, however, it is used as an active verb, and so has rather the sense of treating one, or, in the passive form, of being treated, as a base or inferior person York seems to have in mind what Somerset has before said of him, when he was simply Richard Plantagenet : " We grace the yeoman by conversing with him." H

8t,. DL. OF HENRY VI. KW

Never so needful on the earth of France, Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waist of iron, And hemm'd about with grim destruction. To Bordeaux, warlike duke ! to Bordeaux, York ! Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's hon- our. York. O God ! that Somerset — who in proud

heart

Doth stop my cornets — were in Talbot's place! So should we save a valiant gentleman, By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. Mad ire and wrathful fury make me weep, That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.

Lucy. O, send some succour to the distressed

lord! York. He dies, we lose ; I break my warlike

word :

We mourn, France smiles ; we lose, they daily get ; All 'long of* this vile traitor Somerset.

Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's

soul !

And on his son, young John, whom two hours since I met in travel toward his warUke father ! This seven years did not Talbot see his son, And now they meet where both their lives are done. York. Alas ! what joys shall noble Talbot have. To bid his young son welcome to his grave ? Away ! vexation almost stops my breath, That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death. — Lucy, farewell ; no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot aid the man. —

* That is, all because of, by means or by reason of. The phrase was used by the gravest writers in the Poet's time. H x>kef has it a.

1 04 THE FIRST PART ACT IV

Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away, 'Long all of Somerset, and his delay.3

[Exit YORK, with his Forces Lucy. Thus, while the vulture 4 of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the Fifth : — Wliiles they each other cross, Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. [Exit.

SCENE IV. Other Plains of Gascony.

Enter SOMERSET, vrith his Forces ; an Officer of TALBOT'S with him.

8om. It is too late ; I cannot send them now : This expedition was by York and Talbot Too rashly plotted ; all our general force Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with. The overdaring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour,

3 It bits been observed already, that on the death of Bedford in 1435, York succeeded him in the regency of France. In 1437 he was superseded by Warwick, who dying about two years after, York was reappointed. In this office Somerset took special pains to cross and thwart him. The effects of their enmity are strongly stated by Holinshed : " Although the duke of York was worthie, both for birth and courage, of this honor and preferment, yet so disdeined of the duke of Summerset, that by all means possible sought his hindrance, as one glad of his losse, and sorie of his well clooing : by reason whereof, yer the duke of York cou/d get bis despatch, Paris and diverse other of the cheefest places in France were gotten by the French king. The duke of York, per- ceiving his evill will, openlie dissembled that which he inwardlie minded, either of them working things to the others displeasure till, through malice and division betweene them, at length by mor- tall warre they were both consumed, with almost all their wholf lines and offspring." H.

4 Alluding- to the tale of Prometheus.

SC IV. OF HEFTRY VI. 105

By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure.

York set him on to fight, and die in shainr.

Tluit, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.

Off. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid

Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY.

Som. How now, Sir William ! whither were you sent?

Lucy. Whither, my lord 1 from bought and sold

lord Talbot ; '

Who, ring'd about with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset, To beat assailing- death from his weak legions : And whiles the honourable captain there Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs And, in advantage lingering,* looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour. Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.* Let not your private discord keep away The levied succours that should lend him aid, While he, renowned noble gentleman, Yields up his life unto a world of odds : Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alenqon, Reignier, compass him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default

Sum. York set him on, York should have sent him aid.

1 That is, from one utterly rained by the treacherous practice* of others. The expression seems to have been proverbial ; inti- mating that foul play had been used. Thus in King Richard III. : " Dickon, thy master is bought and told." And in King John : " Fly, noble English, you are bought and told."

* Protracting his resistance by the advantage of a strong post.

* Emulation here signifies tnviout rivalry, not struggle for su porior exc« lence.

106 THE FTHST PART ACT IV

Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace ex

claims ;

Swearing that you withhold his levied horse, Collected for this expedition.

Som. York lies ; he might have sent and had the

horse :

I owe him little duty, and less love ; And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending. Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of

France,

Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot ! Never to England shall he bear his life, But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife.

Som. Come, go ; I will despatch the horsemen

straight : Within six hours they will be at his aid.

Lucy. Too late comes rescue : he is ta'en, or

slain ;

For fly he could not, if he would have fled, And fly would Talbot never, though he might. Som. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then, adieu ! Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. The English Camp near Bordeaux.

Enter TALBOT and JOHN his Son.

TaL O, young John Talbot ! I did send fa

thee,

To tutor thee in stratagems of war ; That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd, When sapless age, and weak unable limbs, Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. But, — O. malignant and ill-boding stars! —

SC. V OF HENRT VI. 107

Now thou art come unto a feast of death,1

A terrible and unavoided * danger :

Therefore, dear hoy, mount on my swiftest horse ;

And I'll direct thee how thou shall escape

By sudden flight : come, dally not ; begone.

John. Is my name Talbot ? and am I your son ? And shall I fly ? O ! if you love my mother, Dishonour not her honourable name, To make a bastard, and a slave of me : The world will say he is not Talbot 's blood, That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood.3

Tal. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.

John. He that flies so will ne'er return again.

TaL If we both stay, we both are sure to die.

John. Then let me stay, and, father, do you

fly:

Your loss is great, so your regard 4 should be ; My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. Upon my death the French can little boast ; In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. Flight cannot stain the honour you have won, But mine it will, that no exploit have done: You fled for vantage every one will swear ; But if I fly, they'll say it was for fear. There is no hope that ever I will stay, If the first hour I shrink, and run away.

1 To a field where death will be feasted with slaughter.

* Unavoided for unavoidable.

1 " For what reason this scene is written in rhyme," says Dr Joonson, " I cannot guess. If Shakespeare had not in othe« plays mingled his rhymes and blank verses in the same mauner. 1 should have suspected that this dialogue had been pan of >om* other pcem. which was never finished, and that beiug loatb tc throw \ is labour away, he inserted it here." Mr. Boswcll re- marks that it was a practice common to all Shakespeare .* ?oti temporaries.

4 Your care of your own safety

108 THE FIRST PART ACT IV

Here on my knee I beg mortality, Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.

Tal. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in orin

tomb? John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's

womb.

Tal. Upon my blessing I command thee go. John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. Tal. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee. John. No part of him but will be shame in me. Tal. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not

lose it. John. Yes, your renowned name : shall flight

abuse it ? Tal. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from

that stain.

John. You cannot witness for me, being slain. If death be so apparent, then both fly.

Tal. And leave my followers here, to fight and

die? My age was never tainted with such shame.

John. And shall my youth be guilty of such

blame ?

No more can I be sever'd from your side, Than can yourself yourself in twain divide . Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I ; For live I will not, if my father die.

Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fail

son,

Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. Come, side by side, together live and die, And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.

[Exeunt

sc. vi. or HENRY vi. 109

SCENE VI. A Field of Battle.

Alarum : Excursions, wherein TALBOT'S Son is hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him.

Tat. St. George and victory ! fight, soldiery

fight !

The recent hath with Talhot broke his word, And left us to the rage of France his sword. Where is John Talbot ? — pause, and take thy

breath ; J gjive thee life, and rescued thee from death.

John. O, twice my father ! twice am I thy son : The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done ; Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, To my determin'd ' time thou gav'st new date. Ted. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword

struck fire,

It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age, Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage, Beat down Alen^on, Orleans, Burgundy, And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. Tin- ireful bastard Orleans — that drew blood From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood Of thy first fight — I soon encountered; And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace, licspoke him thus: "Contaminated, base,

1 To determine in, literally, to set bounds or limits to a thing Young Talbot therefore means that this rescue by his father hai prolonged the period of life which bad been jjxtd by the superi ority of his foes. It were needless to say this, but for the learned impertinence that has been spent upon the expression of the teil

11

110 THE FIRST PART ACT IV

And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,

Mean and right poor ; for that pure blood of mine,

Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brav«

boy:" —

Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care, Art thou not weary, John ? How dost thou fare I Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry 1 Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead : The help of one stands me in little stead. O ! too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our lives in one small boat. If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage, To-morrow I shall die with mickle age : By me they nothing gain, an if I stay ; 'Tis but the shortening of my life one day : In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay ; All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away.

John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me

smart ; These words of yours draw life-blood from my

heart :

On that advantage, bought with such a shame. (To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,) Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, The coward horse that bears me fall and die ' And like* me to the peasant boys of France, To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance ' Surely, by all the glory you have won, An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son :

1 Tlmt is, compare me, reduce me to a level by comparison

SC. VI. OF H1.NUV VI. HI

Then, talk no more of flight, it is no hoot ; * If MMI to Talhot, die at Talbot's foot.

Tal. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of

Crete,

Thou Icarus. Thy life to me is sweet: If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side, And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride.4

[Exeunt.

3 That is, no profit ; or, as we should say, it's of nr> use. H.

4 In these scenes the Poet anticipates an event that did not take pi. ice (ill 1 153, more than eight years after the marriage of the king, with whirh the First Part concludes. The life of this drama so i'n» a* it hath any, apparently consists in referring the loss of UIP French provinces to the rivalries and enmities among the Eng. li>h nobility ; and that anticipation was with a view, no doubt, to -ft forth in a more impressive manner the train of disasters grow- ing out of that cause. Talbot was at this time in his eightieth year. The event of his death is thus related by Holinshed : •' The earle hasted forward towards his enemies, doubting most least they would have beene quite fled and gone before his ooni- ming. Hut they, fearing the displeasure of the French king, abode his comming, and so received him. Though he first with muufull courage and sore fighting wan the entrie of their campe, yet at length they compassed him about, and, shooting him through the thigh with a handgun, slue his horsse, and finally killed him lieng on the ground, whome they durst never looke in the face, while he stood on his feet. It was said, that after he perceived there was no remedie, but present loss of the battell, he counselled bis sonne to save himselfe by flight, sith the same could not redound 'o auie great reproch in him, this being the first journie in which he had beene present. Manie words be used to persuade him to nave saved his life : but nature so wrought in the son, that neither desire of life nor feare of death could either cause him to shrinke, or conveie himselfe out of the danger ; and so there manfullie ended t is life with his said father." The dialogue that was said to rive passed between old Talbot and his son is given more full)' by Hall ; and the Poet's representation in this scene was doubt less built upon the narrative of the elder chronicler. H

THE FIRST PART ACT IV

SCENE VII. Another Part of the same.

Alarum : Excursions. Enter TALBOT wounded, supported by a Servant.

Tal. Where is my other life? — mine own is

gone : — O ! where's young Talbot ? — where is valiant

John? —

Triumphant death, smear 'd with captivity ! ' Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee. — When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, And like a hungry lion did commence Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience ; But when my angry guardant stood alone, Tendering my ruin,2 and assail'd of none, Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clustering battle of the French : And in that sea of blood my boy did drench His overmounting spirit ; and there died My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Enter Soldiers, bearing the Body of JOHN TALBOT.

Serv. O, my dear lord ! lo, where your son is borne !

1 That is, though thy coming be the more terrible, because cou pled with the dishonours of captivity. H.

2 That is, so tender of me in my ruin, or watching me so ten- derly. Thus in the Second Part, Act iii. sc. 1 : " I tender so ihe safety of my liege." And in Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaster, Act iii. sc. 1 : " Something is done that will distract me, that will make me mad, if I behold thee: If thou tender'st me, let ire not iee thee." — Of course ruin is here used in the primitive sens« of fall. H.

SC. VII. OK HENRY VI. 113

Tal. Thou antic, death, which laugh'st ns here

to scorn,*

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,4 In thy despite shall Vcape mortality. — () tliou ! whose wounds become hard-favour'd death, Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath: Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no ; Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe. — Poor boy ! he smiles, methinks ; as who should

say,

Had death been French, then death had died to-day. Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms : My spirit can no longer bear these harms. Soldiers, adieu ! I ha /-e what I would have, .\o\v my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.*

[Dies.

* See Richard II., Act iii. sc. 2. note 12

4 Lither is limber, pliant, yielding; as in Paradise Lost, Book iv. : " The unwieldy elephant, to make them mirth, used all hii might, and wreath'd his lithe proboscis." — Of course sky is here put for air, the meaning thus being much the same as in Milton's, — " He with broad sails winnow'd the biirom air;" where Inixnm is used in its original sense of pliant, yielding. II.

* The battle in which the Talbots fell is known in history as the battle of Chatillon. the name of a fortress not far from Bordeaux, and took place in July, 1463. The occasion was this : The pre- ceding year, while England was lorn with civil war, all France naving been lost, the people of Guicnne, impatient of French tvranny, sent over a deputation, offering to renew their allegiance, and soliciting the aid of an anny. The invitation was gladly ac- repted, and the command given lo the veteran earl of Shrewsbury. The old hero used such energy and despatch, that he look posses* sion of Bordeaux and the surrounding country before the French could interpose any hindrance. The next spring, while he was extending his conquests, a French army invested Chatillon, which he had before taken and fortified. Talbot, hastening to its relief, surprised and defeated a large body of the enemy ; whereupon the French retired into an intrenched camp lined with three hun- dred pieces of cannon. He then ordered an assault, and th*

114 THE FIRST PART ACT IV.

Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving the two Bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALEN^ON, BUR- GUNDY, the Bastard, LA PUCELLE, and forces.

Char. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, We should have found a bloody day of this.

Bast. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging- wood,6 Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood !

Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said, "Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid: ' But, with a proud, majestical high scorn, He answer'd thus : " Young Talbot was not born To be the pillage of a giglot" wench." So, rushing in the bowels of the French,8 He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.

Bur. Doubtless, he would have made a noble

knight.

See, where he lies inhearsed in the anus Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.

Bast. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones

asunder, Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.

CJiar. O, no ! forbear ; for that which we have

fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

enemy began to waver, when the arrival of a new body of men turned the day against him. H.

* That is, raging-Trad^, wood being1 an old word for mad See A Midsummer-Night's Dream, Act ii. sc. 1, note 26. H.

7 A giglot i* a wanton wench. " A minx, gigle, (or giglet, flirt, collet, or gixie," says Cotgrave.

" Whose choice is like that Greekish giglot't love, That left her lord, prince Menelaus."

Orlando Furioso, 1594.

We have a similar expression in The First Part of Jerouitno 1605 : " Meet, Don Andrea ! yes, in the battle's bowel*."

SC. VII. OK I1K.NKY \ I. 115

Enter Sir WILLIAM LUCY, attended; a French Herald preceding.

Lucy. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent, To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.

Char. On what submissive message art thou sent ?

Lucy. Submission, Dauphin ! 'tis a mere French

word ;

We English warriors wot not what it means. I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en, And to survey the bodies of the dead.

Char. For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our pnson is. But tell me whom thou seek'st.

Lucy. But where's the great Alcides of the fieldf Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury 1 Created, for his rare success in arms, Great earl of Washford,9 Waterford, and Valence; Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of Shef

field,

The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge ; Knight of the noble order of St. George, Worthy St. Michael, and the golden fleece ; Great mareschal to Henry the Sixth, Of all his wars within the realm of France.

Puc. Here is a silly stately style indeed ! The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath, Writes not so tedious a style as this. —

• \Vtxford, in Ireland, was anciently called Weyiford. In Crompton's Mansion of Magiianimitie, 1599, it is written as here, Washford. This long list of tilles is from the epitaph formerly extant on Lord Talbot's tomb at Rouen. It is to be found in ihfl work above cited with one other, " Lord Lovetoft of VVorsop,' which would not easily fall into (he verse. It concludes as her* ead adds, " who died in the battle of Burdeaux 1453."

116 THE FIRST PART ACT IV

Him, that thou magnifies! with all these titles, Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet.

Lucy. Is Talbot slain 7 the Frenchman's onlj

scourge.

Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis ? O ! were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd, That I in rage might shoot them at your faces. O, that I could but call these dead to life ! It were enough to fright the realm of France : Were but his picture left among you here, It would amaze 10 the proudest of you all. Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence, And give them burial as beseems their worth.

Puc. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God's sake, let him have 'em ! to keep them

here, They would but stink, and putrefy the air.

Char. Go, take their bodies hence.

Lucy. I'll bear them hence

But from their ashes shall be rear'd A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.

Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what

thou wilt.

And now to Paris, in this conquering vein : All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.

[Exeint.

10 To amaze is to dismay, to throw into consternation.

Or HENRY VI. 117

ACT V.

SCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace

Enter King HENRY, GLOSTER, and EXETER

King. Have you perus'd the letters from the pope, The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ?

Glo. I have, my lord ; and their intent is this : — They humbly sue unto your excellence, To have a godly peace concluded of, Between the realms of England and of France.

King. How doth your grace affect their motion !

Glo. Well, my good lord ; and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And stablish quietness on every side.

King. Ay, marry, uncle ; for I always thought It was both impious and unnatural, That such humanity and bloody strife Should reign among professors of one faith.

Glo. Beside, my lord, — the sooner to effect, And surer bind, this knot of amity, — The earl of Armagnac — near kin to Charles, A man of great authority in France, — Proffers his only daughter to your grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.

King. Marriage, uncle ? alas ! my years aro

young,

And fitter is my study and my books, Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. Yet, call the ambassadors ; and, as you please, So let them have their answers every one : I shah1 be well content with any choice, Tends to God's glory, and my country's weaL

118 THE FIRST PART ACT V

Enter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, with WIN- CHESTER, in a Cardinal's Habit.

Exc. What ! is my lord of Winchester install'd. And call'd unto a cardinal's degree ? ' Then, I perceive that will be verified, Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy, — " If once he come to be a cardinal, He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown."

King. My lords ambassadors, your several suits Have been consider'd and debated on. Your purpose is both good and reasonable ; And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd To draw conditions of a friendly peace ; Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean Shall be transported presently to France.

Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your ma»

ter, —

1 have inform'd his highness so at large, As — liking of the lady's virtuous gifts Her beauty, and the value of her dower, — He doth intend she shall be England's queen.

King. [To the Amb.] In argument and proof of which contract,

1 Beaufort's preferment to " a cardinal's degree " having hap- pened about fifteen years back, it may seem strange that Exetet should now for the first time wonder at it as something new. This, nowever, is quite in keeping with other things in the same scene, such as the alleged youth of the king, who was at this time twenty- three years old ; and was, no doubt, done knowingly and upon principle, the later and earlier events being thus drawn nearer to- gether for the convenience of the drama, and to preserve a more sensible unity in the representation. The point is well stated by Coleridge : " The history of our ancient kings, — the events of their reigns, I mean, — are like stars in the sky; — whatever the real interspaces may be, and however great, they seem close to each other. The stars — the events — strike us and remain in our eye, little modified by the difference of dates." H.

St. I. OF HENRY VI. llil

Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. An<l so, my lord protector, see them guarded, And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd, Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

[Exeunt King HENRY and Train ; GLOSTEH, EXETER, and Ambassadors.

I17;i. Stay, my lord legate : you shall first receive The sum of money, which I promised Should he deliver'd to his holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments.

Leg. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.

Win. Now, Winchester will not suhmit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloster, thou shall well perceive, That neither in birth, or for authority, The bishop will be overborne by thee : I'll either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee, Or sack this country with a mutiny.* [Exeunt.

* The negotiation, of which we here have a showing, took place in 1 H2. The matter is thus related by Holitished : " In this yeare died in Guien the countesse of Comings, to whome the French king and also the earle of Arminacke pretended to be heire, inso- much that the earle entred into all the lands of the said ladie. And hicanse he knew the French king would not lake the mailer well, to have a Rouland for an Oliver he sent ambassadour* to the king1 of England, offering him his daughter in manage, with promise to deliver all such castels and townes as he or his ances- tors detained from him within auie part of the ductile of Aquitaine. This offer seemed so profitable and honorable, that the an.1 •lours were well heard, honorably received. ;md with rewards sent home. A tier whome were sent sir Edward Hull, sir Robert Ros, and John Grallon. the which both concluded the manage, and by proxie aflied Ihe 3'oong ladie. The French king, not a litile of- fended herewith, sent his eldest sonne, with a puissant armie, which tooke the earle and his yoongest sonne, with both his daughters and so t>\ reason hereof the concluded manage was deferred, and that 10 long that it never tooke effect " H

120 THE FIRST PART ACT V

SCENE II. France. Plains in Anjou.

Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALEN^ON, LA PUCELLE, and Forces, marching.

Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our

drooping spirits :

Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt, And turn again unto the warlike French.

Alen. Then, march to Paris, royal Charles of

France, And keep not back your powers in dalliance.

Puc. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us ; Else, ruin combat with their palaces !

Enter a Scout.1

Scout. Success unto our valiant general, And happiness to Ms accomplices !

Char. What tidings send our scouts ? I pr'ythee speak.

Scout. The English army, that divided was Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one, And means to give you battle presently.

Char. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is , But we will presently provide for them.

Bur. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there : Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

Puc. Of all base passions fear is most accurs'd. — Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine; Let Henry fret, and all the world repine.

Char. Then on, my lords ; and France be fortu nate ! [Exeunt

1 So in the original, hut in modem editions commonly changed to MetxtJiifer. H

SC. Ill OF HENRY VI. 121

SCENE III. The same. Before Angiere.

Alarums : Excursions. Enter LA PUCELLE.

Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen

fly.-

Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts;1 And ye choice spirits that admonish me, And give me signs of future accidents : [ Thunder. You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north,* Appear, and aid me in this enterprise !

Enter Fiends.

This speedy and quick appearance argues proof

Of your accustom'd diligence to me.

Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd

Out of the powerful regions under earth,

Help me this once, that France may get the field.

[ They walk about, and speak not. O ! hold me not with silence overlong. Where1 I was wont to feed you with my blood, I'll lop a member off, and give it you,

1 Periapts were certain written charms worn aV.out the person •s preservatives from disease and danger. Of these the first chap. <T of St. John's Gospel was deemed the most efficacious. The following story is related in Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1595 : " A cardinal, seeing a priest carrying a cudgel under his gown, repri- manded him. His excuse was, that he only carried it to defend himself against the dogs of the town. Wherefore, I pray you, replied the cardinal, serves St. John'* Gospel T Alas, my lord, said the priest, these curs understand no Latin."

* The monarch of the north was Zimimar, one of the four prin- cipal devils invoked by witches. The north was supposed to be tne particular habitation of bad spirits. Milton assembles thf rebel angels in the north.

3 Where for whereat, a common suhst'intion in old writers: whereat is also sometimes used for where

1*22 THE FIRST PART ACT V.

la earnest of a further benefit,

So you do condescend to help me now. —

\_Tliey Jiang their Head* No hope to have redress 1 — my body shall Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.

[They shake t/ieir Headi* Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, Entreat you to your wonted furtherance ? Then, take my soul ; my body, soul, and all, Before that England give the French the foil.

[They depart.

See ! they forsake me. Now the time is come, That France must vail 4 her lofty-plumed crest, And let her head fall into England's lap. My ancient incantations are too weak, And hell too strong for me to buckle with : Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.

[Exit

Alarums. Enter French and English, Jighting. LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand. LA POCELLE is taken. The French fly.

York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms, And try if they can gain your liberty. — A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace ! See ! how the ugly witch doth bend her broAvs, As if. with Circe, she would change my shape.

PMC. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.

York. O ! Charles the Dauphin is a proper man : No shape but his can please your dainty eye.

Puc. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and thee!

* To vail is to lower. See The Merchant of Venice, Act i sc 1, note 3.

SC. III. OF HENRY VI. 123

And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds !

York. Fell, banning* hag! enchantress, hold thy

tongue.

Puc. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while. York. Cur^e, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.0 [Exeunt.

Alarums. Enter SUFFOLK, leading in Lady

MARGARET.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

[Gazes on h&.

0 fairest beauty ! do not fear, nor fly,

For I will touch thee but with reverent hands :

1 kiss these fingers [Kissing lier Aawrf.] for eternal

peace,

And lay them gently on thy tender side.7 Who art thou 1 say, that I may honour thee.

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a king, The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.

* To ban is to curse.

6 The capture of Joan was in May, 1430, twelve years before the event of the first scene of this Act, and more than live years before the death of Bedford, and while Burgundy was yet in alii ance with the English. The latter undertaking to reduce the city of Cotnpeigne, Joan went with an army to raise the siege. On the march she met and routed a force of Burgundians, and, hav- •iig taken Franquet, their leader, had him beheaded on the spot. Reinforcements pouring in from all sides, she was soon forced to retreat, herself taking the rear-guard, and repeatedly turning upon the pursuers, and keeping them off; till, at last, her men being broken, she was pulled from her horse by an archer, and, lying on the ground, surrendered herself. The heroine was then condu ted to John of Luxemburg, who some months after sold her into the hands of the regent. H.

' This line and the preceding have bren transposed in modern editions generally, following Malonc, who says, — " Suffolk is ithide to.kis- his own fingers." One might think it plain enough tnat he takes the lady's hand, which was hanging by her side ;m<4 utter kissing, replaces it H

124 THE FIRST PART ACT t

Sujf. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd. Be not offended, nature's miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me : So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings. Yet, if this servile usage once offend, Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend.

[S/ie turns away as gain& O, stay ! — I have no power to let her pass ; My hand would free her, but my heart says — no. As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.8 Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak : I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind. Fie, De la Poole ! disable not thyself; * Hast not a tongue ? is she not here thy prisoner ? Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight 1 Ay ! beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses crouch.

Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk, — if thy name be so, - What ransom must I pay before I pass? For I perceive I am thy prisoner.

Suff. [Aside.] How canst thou tell she will deny

thy suit, Before thou make a trial of her Jove ?

Mar. Why speak'st thou not 1 what ransom must I pay?

8 This comparison, made between things sufficiently unlike, is intended to express the softness and delicacy of Lady Margaret'* beauty, which delighted, but did not dazzle ; which was bright, but gave no pain by its lustre. Sidney, in his Astrophel and Stella supports this explanation :

" Lest if no vaile these hrave gleams did disguise, They, sunlike. should more dazzle than delight."

* To disable was to dispraise, or impeach.

SC. HI. OF HENRY VI. 125

Suff. [Aside.] She's beautiful, and therefore to be

woo'd ; She is a woman, therefore to be won.

Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no?

Suff. [Aside.] Fond man ! remember, that thou

hast a wife : Then, how can Margaret be thy paramour 1

Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear.

Sttff". There all is marr'd ; there lies a cooling card.10

Mar. He talks at random : sure, the man is mad.

Suff. And yet a dispensation may be had.

Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me.

Suff. I'll win this lady Margaret. For whom ? Why, for my king : Tush ! that's a wooden thing.1

Mar. He talks of wood : it is some carpenter.

Suff. [Aside.] Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established between these realms. But there remains a scruple in that too ; For though her father be the king of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, And our nobility will scorn the match.

Alar. Hear ye, captain ? Are you not at leisure?

Stiff". It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much • Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. — Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

Mar. [Aside.] What though I be enthrallM ? he

seems a knight, And will not any way dishonour me.

10 A cooling card was most probably a card so decisive as to cool the courage of the adversary. Metaphorically, something to damp or overwhelm the hopes of an expectant. Thus in Beau- mont nnd Fletcher's Island Princess : " These hot youths, I fear, will find a cooling card.''

11 That is. an awkward business, an undertaking not likely t« succeed. It is sport to see a bold fellow out of countenance, foi that (nils his face into a most shrunken and icooa'tn ooslure

126 THE FIRST PART ACT V

Suff. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.

Mar. [Aside.] Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the

French, And then I need not crave his courtesy.

Stiff. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause —

Mar. [Aside.] Tush ! women have been captivate ere now.

Suff. Lady, wherefore talk you so ?

Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.

Suff. Say, gentle princess, would you not sup

pose Your bondage happy, to be made a queen 7

Mar. To be a queen in bondage is more vile, Than is a slave in base servility; For princes should be free.

Suff. And so shall you,

If happy England's royal king be free.

Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me 1

Suff. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen ; To put a golden sceptre in thy hand, And set a precious crown upon thy head, If thou wilt condescend to be my —

Mar. What?

Suff. His love.

Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.

Suff. No, gentle madam ; I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, And have no portion in the choice myself. How say you, madam ; are you so content ?

Mar. An if my father please, I am content.

Stiff. Then call our captains and our colours forth And, madam, at your father's castle walls We'll crave a parley to confer with him.

[Troops come forward

?<;. en OF HKNKY vi. I;?}

4 Parky sounded. Enter REIGNIER, on the Walk,

Suff. See, Reignier, see thy daughter prisoner.

Rcig. To whom 1

Suff. To me.

Reig. Suffolk, what remedy!

I am a soldier, and unapt to weep, Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

Suff. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord : Consent, and for thy honour give consent, Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king, Whom 1 with pain have woo'd and won thereto ; And this her easy-held imprisonment Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.

Rcig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks 1

Suff. Fair Margaret knows,

That Suffolk doth not flatter, face,1* or feign.

Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend To give thee answer of thy just demand.

[Exit, f rim the Walls

Stiff". And here I will expect thy coming.

Trumpets sounded. Enter REIGNIER, below.

Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories : Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. Suff. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a

child,

Fit to be made companion with a king : What answer makes your grace unto my suit? Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little

worth, To be the princely bride of such a lord ;

11 To face it is to carry a false appearance, to play the hypo- crite Henre the Dame of cue of Ben Jooson's character* in The Alrhymist

128 THE FIRST PART ACT V

Upon condition I may quietly Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou, Free from oppression, or the stroke of war, My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.

Suff. That is her ransom, I deliver her ; And those two counties, I will undertake, Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.

Reig. And I again, in Henry's royal name, As deputy unto that gracious king, Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.

Suff. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly

thanks,

Because this is in traffic of a king: [.4szek.] And yet, methinks, I could be well content To be mine own attorney in tliis case. I'll over, then, to England, with this news, And make this marriage to be solemniz'd : So, farewell, Reignier ! Set this diamond safe In golden palaces, as it becomes.

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian prince, king Henry, were he here.

Mar. Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise,

and prayers, Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going

Suff. Farewell, sweet madam ! But hark you,

Margaret ; No princely commendations to my king?

Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, A virgin, and his servant, say to him.

Suff. Words sweetly placed, and modestly di- rected.

But, madam, I must trouble you again, — No loving token to his majesty ?

Mar. Yes, my good lord ; a pure unspotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I send the king.

SC. IT. OF HENRY VI. 129

Sujf. And tliis withal. [Kisses her

Mar. That for thyself : — I will not so presume To semi such peevish13 tokens to a king.

[Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET. Suff. O, wert thou for myself ! — But, Suffolk, stay ; Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth : There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk. Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise : Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount, Mad,14 natural graces that extinguish art ; Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder.

SCENE IV.

Camp of the Duke of YORK, in Anjou

Enter YORK, WARWICK, and Others.

York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn.

Enter LA PDCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd, Shep. Ah, Joan ! this kills thy father's heart out-

right !

Have I sought every country far and near, And, now it is my chance to find thee out, Must I behold thy timeless l cruel death ? Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee 1

11 That is, rilly, fooluh. See The Comedy of Errors, Act iv. sc. 1, note 2.

'•* Mad has been shown by Steevens to have been occasionally used for wild, in which sense we must take it here; if we do not, with others, suspect it an error of the press for And or Mid.

1 Timeless is untimely. Thus Dray ton in his Legend of Rob- ert Duke of Normandy : <• Thy strength was buried in his timeleu death.'

130 THE FIRST HART ACT <T

Puc. Decrepit miser ! 2 base ignoble wretch ! I am descended of a gentler blood : Thou art no father, nor no friend of. mine.

Shep. Out, out ! — My lords, an please you, 'tis

not so ;

T did beget her, all the parish knows . Her mother liveth yet, can testify She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.

War. Graceless ! wilt thou deny thy parentage 7

York. This argues what her kind of life hath

been ; Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes.

Shep. Fie, Joan ! that thou wilt be so obstacle ' * God knows thou art a collop of my flesh ; And for thy sake have I shed many a tear : Deny me not, I pr'ythee, gentle Joan.

Puc. Peasant, avaunt ! — You have suborn'd thia

man, Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest, The morn that I was wedded to her mother. — Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl. — Wilt thou not stoop ? Now cursed be the time Of thy nativity ! I would the milk Thy mother gave thee, when thou suck'dst her breast, Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake ! Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee! Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab ? O, burn her, burn her ! hanging is too good. [Exit.

2 Miser has no relation to avarice in this passage, but simp \y means a miserable creature, in which sense it was often used.

3 Obstacle was used to be put into the mouths of rustic or illil erate speakers, for obstinate. — For collop, in the next line, see The Winter's Tale, Act i. sc. 2, note 16. H.

SC. IV. OF HENRY VI. 131

York. Take her away, for she hath liv'd too

long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.

I'uc, First, let rue tell you whom you have con-

deinn'd ;

Not one begotten of a shepherd swain. But issued from the progeny of kings ; Virtuous, and holy ; chosen from above, By inspiration of celestial grace, To work exceeding miracles on earth. I never had to do with wicked spirits : But you, — that are polluted with your lusts, Staiu'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, — Because you want the grace that others have, You judge it straight a thing impossible To compass wonders, but by help of devils. No ; misconceived Joan of Arc hath been A virgin from her tender infancy, Chaste and immaculate in very thought ; Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd, Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.

York. Ay, ay ; — away with her to execution.

War. And hark ye, sirs ; because she is a moid, Sp.'ire fur no fagots, let there be enough: Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, That so her torture may be shortened.

Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts I — Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity ; That warranteth by law to be thy privilege. — I am with child, ye bloody homicides : Murder not, then, the fruit within my womb, Although ye hale me to a violent death.

York. Now, Heaven forefend ! the holy maid with child !

132 THE FIRST PART ACT V

\Var. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought ! Is all your strict preciseness come to this]

York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling : I did imagine what would be her refuge.

War. Well, go to: we will have no bustards

live; Especially, since Charles must father it.

Puc. You are deceiv'd ; my child is none of his : It was Alen^on that enjoy 'd my love.

York. Alengon ! that notorious Machiavel ! 4 It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.

Puc. O ! give me leave ; I have deluded you : 'Twas neither Charles, nor yet the duke I nam'd, But Reignier, king of Naples, ihat prevail'd.4

War. A married man ! that'« n»ost intolerable.

York. Why, here's a girl ! I *h;-^k she knows noi

well, There were so many, whom she niHv -<;cuse.

War. It's sign she hath been liberal and free.

York. And, yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure. — Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat, and thee: Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

4 The character of Machiavel seems to have made s ry deep an impression on the dramatic writers of the age, that K, IR. many times introduced without regard to anachronism. Thus • The Valiant Welchman, 1615: " Read Machiavel; princes that mid aspire must mock at hell."

6 For this murdering of the heroic maiden's character, — a ibin^ more cruel than her death itself, — Shakespeare had the aiuhori of the chroniclers, and, doubtless, of popular tradition. The fo« lowing is Holinshed's story : " But herein, she fullie afore posse» of the feend, not able to hold hir in anie towardnesse of grace, falling streight waie into hir former abominations, yet seeking to eelch out life as long as she might, stake not to confesse hir self* a strumpet, and to be with child. For triall, the lord regents len- itie gave hir nine mouths siaie, at the end whereof she found herein as false as wicked in the rest, and eight daies after was delivered over to secular power, and so executed by consumption of tire in ihc old market place at Roue." H.

*C. IV. OF HENRY VI. 13tf

PMC. Then lead me hence; — with whom 1 lca>o

my curse :

May never glorious sun reflex his beams Upon the country where you make abode ! But darkness and the gloomy shade of death Knviron you, till mischief and despair Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves !

[Exit, guarded.

York. Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell ! *

Enter Cardinal BEAUFORT, attended.

Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence With letters of commission from the king. For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils, Have earnestly implor'd a general peace Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French : And here at hand the Dauphin, and his train, Approacheth, to confer about some matter.

York. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?

* Joan of Arc was burnt, as " an agent of the devil,'' at Rouen, May 30. 1431. The inhuman sentence was the result of an ec- clesiastical trial, at which the bishop of Reauvais presided, she having been taken in his diocese. Yet the violence of her ene- in ic- was not so cruel as the neglect of those <vho ought to have been her friends. The matter is thus stated by Liiigard : •• If ever prince were indebted to a subject, Charles VII. was indebted lo Joan of Arc. She bad dispelled the terror with which sui-rr -• had invested the English arms, had reanimated the courage of i)w) French soldiery, and had firmly established the king on the throne of his ancestors. Yet, from the moment of her captivity she a|>- p«ars to have been forgotten. We read not of any sum offered for her ransom, or attempt made to alleviate the rigour of her con- finement, or notice taken of her trial and execution." — 1'erhapi it should be alleged in the Poet's behalf, that without any attempt at moral didactics he makes us resent the atrocious cruelty pul upon the maiden ; though he hints not the hard ingratitude of tho.-o whoso ilc! wraiH'c slit hud wrought H

.•<4 TT1K FIRST PART A»"T V

Afiei tlie slaughter of so many peers,

So many captains, gentlemen, ami soldiers

That in this quarrel have been overthrown,

And sold their bodies for their country's benefit.

Shall \ve at last conclude effeminate peace 1

Have we not lost most part of all the towns,

By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,

Our great progenitors had conquered ? —

O, Warwick, Warwick ! I foresee with grief

The utter loss of all the realm of France.

War. Be patient, York ! if we conclude a peace It shall be with such strict and severe covenants, As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

Enter CHARLES, attended; ALEN^ON, the Bastard, REIGNJER, and Others.

Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed, That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France, We come to be informed by yourselves What the conditions of that league must be.

York. Speak, Winchester ; for boiling cholei

chokes

The hollow passage of my prison'd voice, By sight of these our baleful enemies.

Win. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus : That, — in regard king Henry gives consent, Of mere compassion, and of lenity, To ease your country of distressful war, And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace, — You shall become true liegemen to his crown. And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear To pay him tribute, and submit thyself, Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him, And still enjoy thy regal dignity.

Alcn. Must he be then as shadow of himself?

SO. IT OF HENRY VI. 136

Adorn his temples with a coronet.7 And yet, in substance and authority, Ilt'tain but privilege of a private man? Tliis proffer is absurd and reasonless.

Char. 'Tis known already that I am possess'd With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverencM for their lawful king: Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd, Detract so much from that prerogative, As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole? No, lord ambassador ; I'll rather keep That which I have, than, coveting for more, Be cast from possibility of ah".

York. Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret

means

Us'd intercession to obtain a league ; And, now the matter grows to compromise, Stund'st thou aloof upon comparison? Either accept the title thou usurp'st, Of benefit 8 proceeding from our king, And not of any challenge of desert, Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.

Rcig. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy To cavil in the course of this contract : If once it be neglected, ten to one We shall not find like opportunity.

Aim. [Aside to CHARLES.] To say the truth, it

is your policy,

To save your subjects from such massacre, And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen By our proceeding in hostility ;

7 Corcwt is here used for crown,

• " He content to live as tbn beneficiary of our king.-' tienefi U here a term of law.

lob THE FIRST PART ACT V

And therefore take this compact of a truce, Although you break it when your pleasure serves.

War. How say'st thou, Charles 1 shall our con- dition stand 1

Char. It shall ; only reserv'd, you claim no in

terest lu any of our towns of garrison.

York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty ; As thou art knight, never to disobey, Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.— [CHARLES and the Rest give Tokens of Fealty. So, now dismiss your army when ye please ; Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still, For here we entertain a solemn peace.9 [Exeunt.

9 This peace, which was in reality hut a truce, was negotiated by Suffolk, who had been sent as ambassador for that purpose, an instrument having- been first signed by the king and approved by the parliament, authorizing him to conduct the treaty to the best of his abilities, and pardoning beforehand every error of judgment into which he might fall. The meeting of ambassadors was at Tours in February, 1444 ; where many things were moved for a final peace, but the best they could come to was a truce for eigh- teen months. For the rest, we give the words of Holinshed : << ID treating of this truce, the earle of Suffblke, adventuring somewhat upon his commission, without the assent of his associats, imagined that the next waie to come to a perfect peace was to contrive a manage betweene the French kings kinswoman, the ladie Marga- ret, daughter to Reiner duke of Anjou, and his sovereigne lord king Henrie. This Reiner duke of Anjou named himselfe king of Sicill, Naples, and Jerusalem, having onlie the name and stile of those realmes, without anie penic, profit, or foot of possession. This mariage was made strange to the earle at the first, and one thing seemed to be a great hinderance to it ; which was, bicause the king of England occupied a great part of the duchy of Anjou and the whole county of Maine, appertaining, as was alledged, to king Reiner. — The earle condescended that Anjou and Maine should be delivered to the brides father, demanding for hir mariage neither penic nor fathiug ; as who would saie this new atfinitie passed all riches, and excelled both gold and precious stones."

H

8C. V. OF HENRY VI. 137

SCENE V. London. A Room in the Palace.

Entet King HENRY, in confidence with SUFFOLK. t CLUSTER and EXETER following.

King. Your wondrous rare description, noblf

earl,

Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish 'd me : Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart; And like as rigour in tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, So am I driven, by breath of her renown, Either to suffer sliipwreck, or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love.

Suff. Tush ! my good lord, this superficial tale Is but a preface of her worthy praise : The chief perfections of that lovely dame (Had I sufficient skill to utter them) Would make a volume of enticing lines, Able to ravish any dull conceit. And, which is more, she is not so divine, So full replete with choice of all delights, But, with as humble lowliness of mind, She is content to be at your command; Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents, To love and honour Henry as her lord.

King. And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume Therefore, my lord protector, give consent, Thtit Margaret may be England's royal queen.

Glo. So should I give consent to flatter sin. You know, my lord, your liighness is betruth'd Unto another lady of esteem:

13 THE FIRST PART ACT V

How shall we, then, dispense with that contract, And not deface your honour with reproach ? '

Stiff. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths : Or one that, at a triumph2 having vow'd To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists By reason of his adversary's odds. A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds, And therefore may be broke without offence.

Glo. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than

that 1

Her father is no better than an earl, Although in glorious titles he excel.

Suff. Yes, my good lord, her father is a king, The king of Naples, and Jerusalem ; And of such great authority in France, As his alliance will confirm our peace, And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.

Glo. And so the earl of Armagnac may do, Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.

Exe. Beside, his wealth dotli warrant liberal dower, Where Reignier sooner will receive than give.

Suff. A dower, my lords ! disgrace not so your

king,

That he should be so abject, base, and poor, To choose for wealth, and not for perfect love. Hanry is able to enrich his queen,

" Although this niariage pleased the king1 and diverse of his' councell, yet Humfrie duke of Gtocester, protector of the realtnc, was much against it. alledging that it should he both contrarie to the lawes of God, and dishonorable to the prince, if he should breake that promise and contract of manage, made by aniliassa donrs sufficiently instructed thereto, with the daughter of the earle of Arminacke, upon conditions both to him and his realme as much profitable as honorable. But the duke's words could not be heard, for the carles dooings were onelie liked and allowed." — Holin- thed. H.

* A trinmpn then signified a public exhibition ; such as a tour nament mask, or revel.

sr. v. or HENRY vi. 139

And not to seek a queen to make him rich :

So wortlilt-ss ]*-;ts:mts bargain for their wives,

As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse.

Marriage is a matter of more worth,

Than to be dealt in by attorneyship : *

Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects.

Must be companion of his nuptial bed ;

And therefore, lords, since he affects her most.

Most of all these reasons bindeth us,

In our opinions she should be preferr'd.

For what is wedlock forced but a hell,

An age of discord and continual strife ?

Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss,

And is a pattern of celestial peace.

Whom should we match with Henry, being a king,

But Margaret, that is daughter to a king?

Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,

Approves her fit for none but for a king :

Her valiant courage, and undaunted spirit,

(More than in women commonly is seen,)

Will answer our hope in issue of a king;

For Henry, son unto a conqueror,

Is likely to beget more conquerors,

If with a lady of so high resolve,

Aa is fair Margaret, he be link'd in love.

Then yield, my lords ; and here conclude with me,

That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she.

King. Whether it be through force of your report, My noble lord of Suffolk, or for that My tender youth was never yet attaint With any passion of inflaming love, I cannot tell ; but this I am assur'd, I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,

* By the intervention of another man's choice ; or the discr* kiooal agency of another.

140 THE FIRST PAKT OF HENRY VI. ACT V

Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,

As I am sick with working of my thoughts.

Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to France

Agree to any covenants ; and procure

That lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come

To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd

King Henry's faithful and anointed queen.

For your expenses and sufficient charge,

Among the people gather up a tenth.

Be gone, I say ; for till you do return,

I rest perplexed with a thousand cares. —

And you, good uncle, banish all offence:

If you do censure 4 me by what you were,

Not what you are, I know it will excuse

This sudden execution of my will.

And so conduct me, where from company

\ may revolve and ruminate my grief. [Exit.

Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. \Exeunt GLOSTER and EXETER.

Stiff. Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd ; and thus he goes, As did the youthful Paris once to Greece, With hope to find the like event in love, But prosper better than the Trojan did. Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king ; But I will rule both her, the king, and realm.6

[Exit.

* To censure is here simply to judge. " If in judging- me you consider the past frailties of your own youth."

s Suffolk set forth on this expedition in October, 1444. Thus Elands the account in Holinshed : "The earle of Suflblke was made marquesse of Suffolke, which marquesse, with his wife and manie honorable personages of men and women, richlie adornea both with apparell and jewels, having with them rnanie costlie chariots and gorgeous horslitters, sailed into France for the con- veiance of the nominated queene into the realme of England For king Reiner, hir father, for all his long stile, had too short a pursse to send bis daughter honorablie to the king hir spouse '

K

INTRODUCTION

THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

WE have already seen that in some instances stolen a u! imper feet or mutilated copies of Shakespeare's plays were put forth long before the issuing1 of any complete and authorized editions. This was the case with The Merry Wives of Windsor and King Henry V., which were first published with but about half their present length, and with less than half their present excellence. Whether the quarto editions of those plays were printed from the Poet's first draughts or sketches fraudulently obtained, or from such mangled outlines as coulJ he gathered at the theatre and made up by unskilful report ers. perhaps cannot be fully determined. There can be little doubt, however, that both those plays, and probably none, that the lane of them, as originally written, were very different Irom what they are now. And it is not impossible that the quartos may have the double disadvantage of being from rude, mangled, and stolen re- ports of the plays as presented in their original and unfinished shape. Probably these points have been discussed enough iu our Introductions to the plays in question.

It has also been seen that The Taming of the Shrew and King John were founded on older dramas of uncertain authorship. In two plays Shakespeare borrowed the plot order, and inci- dents, with scarce ;my change, but took little of the character, and none of the language, imagery, or expression. So that the old plays furnished him but 'lie skeletons, which be clothed with such fle>h and features, and informed with such life and motion, as nou« other known to us could originate.

These two points are thus stated here, because it seems worth the while to bear them in mind in the trial of certain questions thai have been raised touching the two plays that follow this Intro duftion.

THE S K.C.I m> PART or HENRY THE SIXTH was never issued, that we know of, with that title, or in iu present slate, till in tin-

144 THE SECOND PART OF HKNKY VI.

(olio of 1623. where il is printed will) great clearness and net ii'acv but without any marking of the arts and scenes. The play, how- over, is 1ml an enlargement of one that was entered at the Sta- tioners', March 12, 159-t, aud published the same year with a title- page reading as follows : " The First Part of the Contention betwixt the two famous Houses of York and Lancaster; with the ueath of the good Duke Humphrey-; and the banishment and death of the Duke of Suffolk ; and the tragical end of the proud Cardinal of Winchester : With the notable rebellion of Jack Cade ; and the Duke of York's first claim unto the crown. London : Priiitod by Thomas Creede for Thomas Milliugton ; and are to t>* sold at his shop under St. Peter's Church in Cornwall. 1594."

In regard to The Third Part of Henry the Sixth, ihe circum- stances were so nearly the same as to render it on many account!) advisable to speak of them both together. This, also, is but an enlargement of an older play, which was originally published by itself, the title-page reading thus : " The True Tragedy of Rich- ard Duke of York, and the death of the good King Henry the Sixth ; with the whole contention between the two Houses Lan caster and York : As it was sundry times acted by the Right Hon ourabie the Earl of Pembroke his Servants. Printed at London by P. S. for Thomas Millington, and are to be sold at his shop under St. Peter's Church in Cornwall. 1595." hi 1600 both plays were reissued, the text, the titles, and the publisher, being all the same as in the former. It is to be observed that in these i.vo editions no author's name was given. A third issue of both plays was pul forth by Thomas Pavier in 1619, on the tille-pag-fl of which we have the words, — " Newly corrected and enlarged : By William Shakespeare, Gent." As Pavier's text was merely a "eprint of Millington's, the words, " newly corrected and eu larged," would seem to infer that the plays were generally known or supposed to have been revised by the author, and that the pub- lisher committed this piece of fraud, in order lhal his edition might be thought to have the advantage of such revisal. It is not to be supposed that either the withholding of the name in the first two editions, or ihe giving of it ill the third, proves any thing as to ihe real aulhorship one way or ihe other ; for we have seen that the earlier editions of the Poet's plays were often anonymous, ana thai his name was not seldom pretended in case of plays that he had no hand in writing. The First Part of the Contention, and The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York, as they were called in the old quarlos, have been lately set forth with great care and accuracy by Mr. Knight, in the form of supplements, respectively,, to the same plays in their revised and finished state. As we be- lieve Shakespeare to have been the author of the plays in their original form, we shall, for convenience, speak of them henceforth as the quarto editions of what appeared in the folio of lu'-.'S 8° tin Second and Third Parts of Henrv the Sixth.

INTRODUCTION. 145

f.i the plays, then, thus entitled in the folio, with a few trifling exceptions the entire plan, arrangement, conception, jharacifr, ami more than half the language word for word, are all the same as in ihe corresponding quartos. Malone figured out that the two in their present stale, contain 6043 lines ; and that of these 1899, or nearly one third, were original in the folio, 2373, some- tiling mere than a third, were altered from the quarto, and 1711, which is saxewhat less than a third, were the same in both. Am* he took the pains to mark the lines peculiar to the folio with as terisks, and those altered from the quarto, with inverted commas ; leaving those common to both unmarked. In several editions, the Chiswick being one, his marking, though not always correct, as may t>e seen by our notes, has been repeated. In the altered lines, however, a large part, certainly not less than hall, of tie Bin-rations are very slight, often involving nothing more than *.b« change of an epithet, or the transposition of a word, and nowise •Heeling the sense. Several instances in point will be found spc eiticd in our notes, so that the matter uced not be dwelt upon here. In many cases, moreover, the folio presents a judicious elaboration and expansion of old thoughts, with little or no addition of new ones; so that the difference properly regards but the execution, and scarce touches the conception of the work. In '.be Second Part, again, the alterations and additions are in the main diffused pretty equally through the whole play ; while in the Third Part the additions come much more in large masses, sonic entire scenes being mostly new in the folio, and others nearly the same as in thu quarto. For example, in Act i. of the Third Part, out of 581 lint's in all, there are but 141 altered from the quarto, and 104 original in the folio, thus leaving 336 the same in both. And in the fourth scene of that Act the proportion of altered and added lines is considerably less, being just one fourth of the whole. On the other hand, in the sixth scene of Act iv. the proportion is flill more the other way, there beiug of 102 lines only 14 either laken or altered from the quarto. Other instances to the same purpose will be found noted as they occur. It will hardly be questioned that 1 1,3 best scenes, — the most characteristic, Ihe most Shake- spearian,— in the play, are the fourth in Act i.. and the sixth itt Act v. ; and these, as may he seen by our notes, are the verv scenes that were least improved or changed in the folio. Perha| * it should be remarked, further, that nearly all the matter of tic qunrios is retained in the folio, the rejections being very few and snr.ill. so that the plays ar% lengthened just about the amount of the additions made. All together, therefore, we may safely affirm that of the two plays the whole conception and more than half the execution are precisely the same in the quarto and folio edi- tions. Finally, be ii observed, that in case of these two playi we have not nearly so er'at a difference, either of quantity or o/

I4G THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

quality, between the quartos and the folio as in case of Tht Merry Wives of Windsor and King Henry V.

Thus far we have gone upon the supposition, which, 10 say the least, is not improbable, that the plays in hand were originally written as they stand in /he quartos, and were afterwards rewrit- ten oy the same hand, which accounts naturally enough for all the tliffeieiices of the quarto and folio editions ; and that the first pub- lication was probably surreptitious, and perhaps made from the original draughts or sketches, after these were superseded on the stage by the revised and finished copies. At all events, that the quartos were in this case unauthorized may be reasonably pre- sumed, from the fact that tht only other publishing of Shake- speare's work by Millington was unquestionably fraudulent. Dr. Johnson, however, thinks there is no reason for supposing them to have been printed from the first draughts of Shakespeare ; bul that they were " copies taken by some auditor, who wrote down during the representation what the time would permit ; then, per- haps, filled up some of his omissions at a .second or third hearing, and, when he had by this method formed something like a play, sent it to the printer." Perhaps it will be deemed a sufficient answer to this, that there are some passages in the quartos, which are entirely wanting in the folio ; and that there are many pas- sages of blank-verse, and some of them quite lengthy, standing exactly the same in both : for it is clear that a reporter, as in the case supposed, however much he might omit, would not be very likely to add ; and that so correct an arrangement of blank- verse could not well be attained by the ear alone.

Which brings us to the question, whether these plays in theii original form were written by Shakespeare. Malone, as was seen in our preceding Introduction, maintains, at great expense of la- bour and learning, that neither the First Part, nor the quartos of the Second and Third Parts were by Shakespeare ; and, more- over, that the originals of the Second and Third were not by the same author as the First. Thus he holds that the three plays, as we have them, were the work of three several authors, Shake- speare being responsible only for the above-mentioned alterations and additions ; and that, on the strength of these, Heminge and Condell took the strange liberty of including all three of the play^ in their edition, thus setting them forth to the world as Shake- speare's genuine productions, the Second and Third, because he had somewhat enlarged and improved them, and the First, as being a " necessary introduction " to the other two.

So far as regards the First Part, Malone's position and argu- ments were probably discussed enough in our Introduction to that play. His only reason, apparently, for supposing three several authors is precisely the same as one of his main reasons for sup- posing two. The argument is so clear, brief, and conclusive, that we cau well arlord room to stale it, even though the statement

UJTK >DUCT1ON. 14*3

involve something of repetition. In the First Part. Act ii. ?e. *, King Henry says, — "/ do remember how my father said." Hut in one of the added lines of the Second Part, Act iv. sc. !i, ilie same Henry says, — "But I was made a king at nine months old.' Mow, as Shakespeare undoubtedly wrote the additions to the Sec- onil Fart, it is clear that he knew the king was uot of an age. at liis lather's death, to remember any thing said by him : whii-b concludes at once that Shakespeare could not have written the Firs'. Part. Again ; in one of the original lines of the Third Pan, Act i. sc. 1, the king says, — " When I was crown'd I was but nine months old:'' from which it comes equally clear end conclusive, that the originals of the Second and Third Parts cojlil not have been written by the author of the First. Thus far, how- ever, we have but two authors proved in the three plays ; it not appearing but that Shakespeare may have written both the origi- nals and the additions of the Second and Third Parts. But tho same principle, in another instance, will soon nick him out of all but those additions. In an original passage of the Third Par;, Act iii. sc. _, King Edward, speaking of the Lady Elizabeth Grey says to Clarence and Gloster :

" This lady's husband here, Sir Richard Grey, At the battle of St. A limns did lose his life : His lands then were sciz'd on by the conqueror. Her suit is now to repossess those lands ; And si/A i» quarrel of the house of York The noble gentleman did lose his life, hi honour we cannot deny her suit."

In King Richard III., Act i. sc. 3, Gloster says to the samo Elizabeth :

•' In all which time, you and your husband Grey Were factious for the house of Lancnst'r ; — And, Rivers, so were you : — was not your husband In Margaret's battle at St. Albans slain 1 "

Now, as nobody doubts that Shakespeare was the author of King Richard HI., it follows clearly and conclusively that he could nol bave written the originals of the plays in question. Thus we have three several authors fully proved in case of Henry VI. ; one foi the First Part, another for the originals, and a third for the addi- tion-., of the Second and Third.

We have been thus particular in staling this argument, becauM it is by far the strongest that has been alleged on that side from the internal evidence. And Malone himself lays great stress upon it: referring to such instances as we have quoted, he say*. — • Paskiigui. discordant iu matters of fuel from hi* oilier plays -«rr

148 THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

proved by this discordancy not to have been composed hy him j and these discordant passages, being found in the original quart" plays, prove thai those pieces were composed by another writer." Perhaps enough was said by way of answer to this point in our Introduction to the First Part. Two discrepancies of the same kind were there adduced, from which, however, nobody thinks o( inferring any such diversity of authorship. It will not take long to add two more. In The First Part of Henry IV., Act i. sc. 3 the king speaks of " the foolish Mortimer " as Hotspur's " brother- in-law," and a litde after in the same scene Hotspur boils o\er thus :

« And when I urg'd the ransom once again Of my wife's brother, then his cheek look'd pale, And on my face he turu'd an eye of death. Trembling even at the name of Mortimer."

And again, the same speaker : " Did King Richard, then, proclaim my brother Edmund Mortimer heir to the crown ? " In Act iii. sc. 1. however, of the same play, we have Mortimer referring thus to Hotspur's wife : " Good father, tell her, that she and my aunt Percy shall follow in your conduct speedily." Again ; in the Third Part of Henry VI., Act i. sc. 1, the king says to York •

" What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown ? Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York ; "

as if York's title had come to him by inheritance. And yet, a few lines before, Exeter, speaking of the present king to York, says. — •'He made thee duke of York ; " as if the title had been con- ferred on him by express grant from the king, which was indeed the case. It will be worth the while to add, that both of these passages are in the original form of the Third Part. And as the matter is rightly set forth in the First Part, one of the passages might he quoted to prove that the two plays were, and the other, that they were not, by the same author. Divers other instances more or less in point might easily be adduced ; and indeed there are so many discrepancies of this kind in Shakespeare's undoubted plays, that one may well be surprised to find an editor urging them for such a purpose. Besides, even according to Malone's showing, one of the passages thus referred to, that touching the Lady Eliz- abeth, was considerably altered by Shakespeare. And if the Poet had been so careful to avoid such discrepancies, as Malone's argu- ment supposes, it does not well appear why in altering the verse he did not correct the facts. Finally, one more instance of sim- ilar discrepancy may as well be referred to, as, on Malone's prin- ciple, it will prove that the Second and Third Parts in the quarto form must have been by different authors ; so that we shall have four authors in the case, one for each of the three parts in theit

I NTRODUCTION. 1 49

original stati;. and a fourth for the latter two in so far as the folio diflers from the quartos. But as the matter will he found specified in the last play of the series, Act i. sc. 1, note 1, there needs no further agitation of it here.

Of the other |>">ints in Malone's argument from the internal evi denre, the only ones worth noticing may be quickly despatched, as they call for little if any thing more than a flat denial. The fir<t i<. that in his undoubted plays we often find Shakespeare reproducing the same thoughts in othe% yet resembling, forms of expression ; and that the quarto copie* of the Second and Third Paris have not the usual number of thoughts and expressions re sembling those to be met with in his other plays, while the folio additions are proportionably much more frequent in such resem- blances. Now, to affirm the reverse of this, were probably nesrer the truth. As Malone's method of reasoning was so highly 5g- nrative, Knight has here brought the power of figures to bear, and shown that in the original form of the two plays there are no less than fourteen such resemblances ; which is a greater number, proportionably, than it will be easy to find in the additions.

The second of the points in question is. that the Shakespearian peculiarities of thought and speech occur more frequently in the added portions. Which, even if it were true, would prove noth- in? t ) the purpose, the additions having of course been written soui? time after the originals, and when the author had grown and riiwMjed more out of the common into his individual style of thought and speech. Moreover, this argument would make with at least equal force that Shakespeare did not, though no one questions that he did, write the originals of his Hamlet and Romeo and Juliet ; it being certain that what was afterwards added to those plays in the revisal is proportionably much richer in Shake- spearian peculiarity. But, in the plays under consideration, this is not true, as 3113- one that has an eye for such things may be amply certified by the specimens given in our notes. The cause of the matter's being otherwise in this case may be, that the revising took place at a less interval from the first writing, before the au- thor's style had undergone much change, and when his power waa not enough greater to make op for the less inspiration that would naturally attend a revisal.

Nor is A! a I one a whit stronger in bis arguing of the question from external evidence. In the first place, he urges the fact that Shakespeare's name was not mentioned in the entry of the Secono Part at the Stationers', March 12, 1594, nor in the title-pages of the first two editions. But this, as we have repeatedly seen, wa» a common practice. For example, King Richard II. was entered at the Stationers', August 29, 15U7, and published the same year ; The First Pail of Henry IV. was entered, February 25, 1598, and published that year ; also, King Richard III. was entered, October 20. l.>97. and published that year ; in every one of which casrt

150 THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

there was no mention of the author's name. Again, he alleges Ihe circumstance that in the title of the quarto the Third Part is said to have been acted by the earl of Pembroke's servants, a company to which Shakespeare never belonged. Which point we ma) safely leave where it was left in our Introduction to tho First Part, page 13 of this volume. Another circumstance urged is, that in the title-page of Pavier's quarto the plays are said to have been " newly corrected and enlarged by William Shake- speare," as if this inferred that Shakespeare did not write them ; **'f.ereas the " By William Shakespeare " evidently refers no less to the writing than to the correcting and enlarging.

Tnere is, however, one piece of external evidence which must be allowed to carry some weight. We have seen that Malone's trgument from the discrepancies of statement would, if admitted, necessarily conclude four authors in the case, one for each of the three parts as first written, and a fourth for the additions of the folio. And in fact Malone himself supposes four, and the forth- coming item of external evidence, so far as it may hold good, will infer as many, and probably one to boot. It is a passage, quoted in Volume III., page 395 of this edition, from Greene's Groats- worth of Wit : " Yes, trust them not ; for there is an upstart crow beautified with our feathers, that, with his tigre's heart wrapp'd in a player's hide, supposes he is as well able to bombast out a blank-verse as the best of you, and, being an absolute Johanncs- fac-totum, is in his own conceit the only Shake-scene in a country." Greene died September 3, 1592, and this was a part of his death- bed repentance. The tract was addressed to his " quondam ac- quaintance," Marlowe, Lodge, and Peele, who may all be set down as included in the words, •' beautified with our feathers : " there is no doubt that the -'upstart crow" meant Shakespeare ; and " his tigre's heart wrapp'd in a player's hide " is a parody of an original line in The Third Part of Henry VI., Act i. sc. 4 : ' O tigre's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide ! " thus ascertaining at least that that play, as it stands in the quarto, was written before Greene's death.

The parodied line, however, is thought to identify the plays in question as the particular feathers with which the upstart crow had beautified himself. And, surely, if Shakespeare had indeed been guilty of such an enormous piece of literary theft as the case sup- poses, he most richly deserved all that was said of him, and aa much more of the same kind as could be said ; and, obviously, the best course for himself and his friends to take had been not to complain of the charge, out just to keep as quiet as they possibly could. A short time after Greene's death, his tract was published by Henry Chettle. The tract gave great offence to the parties attacked ; and a few months later their complaints were answered by Chettle in a pamphlet entitled Kind-Heart's Dream, which has »V« following in reference to Shakespeare : " I am as sorry as il

INTRODUCTION. 151

the i ritual faill hid been my fault, because myself have seen hit demeanor no less civil, than he excellent in the quality he pro- Jesses : besides, diver* of worship have reported hit uprightnet* of dealing, which argue* his hoiusty, and his facetious grace in writing that approves bis art." Surely, if, with a full knowledge 01 the tacts, he had especially undertaken to clear Shakespeare from the charge, and from all suspicion, of having beautified hiin- *elf with stolen plumes, he could scarce have used words more apt for his purpose. This acquittal, moreover, is greatly con- firmed l>y Thomas Nash, who, the writing of Greene's tract bav- iiig been by some attributed to him, has the following in an epistle prefixed to the second edition of his Pierce Penniless : " Other news I am advertised of, that a scald, trivial, lying pamphitt, call'd Greene's Groatstcorth of Wit, is given out to ue of my doing. God never have care of my soul, but utterly renounce me. if the least word or syllabic in it proceeded from my pen, or if I were any way privy to the writing or printing of it."

Now, whatsoever motives may be thought to have prompted these disavowals of Cliettle and Na-sh, it will hardly be questioned that the acquittal was as well-grounded as the indictment had been. For if Greene's charges had been true, it is difficult to conceive now they should have been more disreputable to the author tiiau to the subject of them. And in the passage quoted from him he is evidently far more vituperative of others' sins than repentant of his owiij which, to say the least, is as little suited to a prepara- tion for death, us the matter charged is to an honourable standing in life. At all events, it may well be thought that in Greene's case .he expectation of death, instead of making him bold to speak the truth, had rather taken off from his envy the restraints of fear, and thus emboldened him to lie.

Mr. Collier, however, quotes, as in confirmation of Greene's charge, a passage from a tract by R. B., entitled Greene's Fucer- als, and published in 151)4, wherein the writer, speaking of others' obligations to Greene, adds, —

" Nay. more, the men that so eclips'd his fame Purloin 'd hi* pluau*, — can they deny the same T "

This might indeed amount to something, if it had the appearance of being an independent authority ; but does it not sound loo in ten iu a mere echo of what Greene himself had said before T Or, if it be thought that Greene's envy must have had somewhat to work upon, else it would scarce have taken so specific a shape, perhapt there was matter enough short of such a wholesale appropriation of other men's works. For example, in The First Part of Henri VI , Act v. sc. 3, occurs the following :

" She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd ; She is a woman, therefore to be wou."

152 THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

The latter of these lines, as Mr. Collier tells us, is found in Greene's Planetomachia, which was printed as early as 1685 Again, two of the original lines in the Third Part, Act v. sc. 6 are these, uttered by Richard while stabbing- Henry .

" If any spark of life remain in thee, Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither."

And in Greene's Alphonsus, King of Arragon, the horo speak < thus to Flamiuius while killing him :

u Go, pack thee hence unto the Stygian lake. And make report unto thy traitorous sire, How well thou hast enjoy'd the diadem, Which he by treason set upon thy head : And if he ask thee who did send thee down, Alphonsus say, who now must wear thy crown."

Might not a few such borrowed feathers as these suffice to sta and to set Greene's exaggerations of envy and spleen ? But, if these be not enough, there is strong reason, as was seen in our Introduction to that play, to think that Greene was the author of the old play whereon Shakespeare founded his Taming of the Shrew.

Mr. Dyce, also, collates a number of original passages from tho two plays in question with similar ones in Marlowe's Edward II. Thus in the Second Part, Act i. sc. 3 : " She bears a duke's whole revenues on her back." And in Edward II. : " He wears a lord's revenue on his back." Again, in the Third Part, Act v. sc. 2 : " Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle." And in Edward II. : " A lofty cedar-tree, fair-flourishing, on whose top-branches kingly eagles perch." And there are several others, in some of which the resemblances are still closer. It need scarce be said that such resemblances infer a borrowing one way or the other. Nov» the argument from Greene's tract supposes both the originals and .he additions of the Second and Third Parts to have been written before September, 1592. Marlowe was killed, June 1, 1593, in his 29th year, and his Edward II. was entered at the Stationers', July 6, 1593. It is on all hands allowed to be far the best, and probably the last-written of his plays. Its superiority of style to his Tamburlaine, which was probably written as early as 1587, is so grcal, as naturally to sug- gest the influence of new and better models; since without stch help one could scarce make so much advance in so short a time. Might it not well be, then, that in so close a study of those models divers passages got planted in his memory, and when, shortly after, he went to writing on a kindred subject, transferred themselves to his page'' Or, if we suppose his Edward 11. to have preceded

INTRODUCTION. 153

the originals of the iwo plays in h.ind. then why may not the re- "einUling passages collated bv Mr. Uyce have be"n a part of the VIMV matter n-irrred to in Greene's " upstart crow beautified with OUH feathers " !

\\ is remarkable that, with the exception of the resemblances pointed out by Mr. Uyce, those who have concurred with Maloae in taking the old plays from Shakespeare, have added nothing to Malnnf's arguments. And it is equally remarkable that those who agree that Shakespeare did not write them are at considerable O'liU amongst themselves as to who did. Malotie at first thought that either Greene and Pccle wrote them conjointly, or that Greene wrote the one and Pecle the oilier; but afterwards he was •• in- clined to believe that Marlowe was the author of one, if not of both." Mr. Collier, speaking of the Contention, says, — "By whom it was written we have no information;" and of the True Tragedy he says, — " Although there is no ground whatever for giving it to Marlowe, there is some reason for supposing that it came from the pen of Robert Greene.1' Mr. Hallam says, — -'It SIM-IMS probable that the old plays were in great part by Marlowe, though Greene seems to put in for some share in their composi- tion." And in another place he speaks thus: "The greater part of the plays is, in the judgment, I conceive, of all competent critics, far above the powers either of Greene or Fcele. and exhibits a much greater share of the spirited versification, called by Jonson the • mighty line' of Christopher Marlowe." Concurrent with th's latter is the judgment of Mr. Uyce : " Greene may have contrili- uteil his share ; so also may Lodge, and so may Feele have done: but in both pieces there are scenes characterized by a vigour of conception and expression, to which, as their undisputed works demonstratively prove, neither Greene, nor Lodge, nor Peele could possibly have risen."

The other part of the question may be despatched with coin parative brevity and ease ; the main points of the argument hav- ing been some of them staled, and all of them suggested in our Introduction to the preceding play. For the conclusion, urged from the Epilogue to Henry V. in case of the First Fart, holds equally strong in reference to the Second and Third. The three plays have a common subject, namely, the showing how, in the reign of Henry VI., •• so many had the managing, that they lest France, and made his England bleed.'' The losing of France is the special matter of the First Fart ; the making Hnglaud bleed, of (he Second and Third ; both of which, the Foet, when writing that Kpilogue, took upon him to say, " oil our stage hath shown." And with what propriety could he beg the audience to accept a plav of his making, because they had already accepted plays not of lii- making I Would he ask them to .smile un what he had written, inasmuch as th°v hud been wont to smile on what be had stolen 1 Or. In put the thing more fairly, their having l.krd some

154 THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

plays thai he had mereiy enlarged was surely an odd reason why they should like a play originated by him. So that we seem to have from the Poet himself an implied claim of authorship in the case.

We have another point of external evidence, perhaps equally strong, in the simple fact of the plays' being givr-i to the world as Shakespeare's, by those who had every opportunity to know I he truth, and no apparent motive to put forth any thing as his, which was known to be from another. Their Preface shows that ihe editors of the first folio knew well what thev were about, and why. Nor may this argument be so easily nonsuited by suppos- ing their action in this case to have stood on the ground of Shake- speare's acknowledged additions. For the quartos were at hand, their authorship apt to be known; and any careful reader might see that the entire conception and more than half the execution of the plays in question were there. And when the editors speak of " divers maimed and deformed copies," as being " now ofier'd to your view cur'd, and perfect of their limbs," what more likely than that those very quartos may have been among the copies meant ? At all events, their purpose, as it ought to have been, manifestly was, to set forth none but perfect copies of what they knew Shakespeare to have written.

Malone's argument from the internal evidence views the plays separately and without any reference to one another. As what strength it has seems chiefly owing to this mode of viewing them apart, so it may doubtless be best met by viewing them together. If, then, we take the three parts of Henry VI. together with Rich- ard 111., we shall find them all to be so connected that each for- mer play of the series is a necessary introduction to the following, and each later one a necessary sequel to the preceding; that is, they will appear to be four plays only because too long to be one, or two, or three. Perhaps the (brce of this argument may he l>est approved by trying it in another case. Now, it is quite manifest that Richard II. is essentially a play to be continued : it was evi- dently written with the matter and design of the following play in mind Hence the several forecastings and givings-out which it has. concerning events and passages that are left unrepresented in i he play itself. These are as germs thrown in with purpose of future development : the Poet is not content to set forth the trans- actions of the play clearly for what they are in themselves, but takes care that we shall also regard them as the first beginnings of things yet to be, thus awakening an expectation of something further, and preparing the reader's mind for his intended sequel. Such, it scarce need be said, are the prophetic remonstrances of the intrepid Bishop, in Act iv. sc. 1 :

" And if you crown him, let me prophesy, The blood of English shall manure the ground ;

INTRODUCTION. 155

And in this seat of peace tumultuous wars

•Shall kin with kin, and kind with kind confound ; " —

the predictions of Richard to Northumberland in Act v. sc. I

• The time shall not be many hours of age More than it is, ere foul sin, gathering bead, Shall break into corruption : Thou shall think, Though he divide the realm, and give tbee half, It is too little, helping him to all ; And he shall think that thou. which kiiow'st the way To plant uiirigliiful kings, will know again, Being ne'er so little urg'd, another way To pluck him headlong from the usurped throne ; " —

and above all the dialogue touching Prince Henry in Act v. gj. 5. closing up with Bolingbroke's happy forecast of his son :

" As dissolute as desperate ; yet, through both, I see some sparks of better hope, which elder day* Way happily bring forth.''

Now these are manifest impertinences but that they look to a fui ther representation. It were hardly possible for the Poet to give out promise of a sequel ill clear terms. Viewed in this light, the things are great beauties ; otherwise, they are blemishes al together.

Of course the anticipations thus raised are met and answered in Henry IV., which in turn has many minute and careful refer- ences to events set forth in the foregoing play. Such are Hot- spur's mad snappish retrospections of Bolingbroke in Act i. sc. 3; his reference in Act iv. sc. 3. to the circumstances of the king's first lauding, •• when his blood was poor, upon the naked shore al Kavcnspurg;" the king's recurrence, in Part II.. Act iii. sc. 2, to the forecited prophecy of Richard ; and especially the alternate riolings, repenlings, uud heroisms of the prince.

Thus the two plays are closely connected by a variety of re- ciprocal allusions ; insomuch that, if Henry IV. had conic down in ti- as Shakespeare's, and Richard II. as anonymous, there could be almost as little doubt, it should seem, as to the authorship of the latter, as of the former. So much, then, might be reasonably interred from the mere logical adjustment and correspondence of the plays to each other. Still stronger were the inference from the manifest unity of design and action, running the two play* together as a consistent and continuous whole, the first bespeak- ing the second, and the secoud in turn supposing the first. For, granting that the secoud, though taken up as an afterthought, nigh) be thus logically and dramatically lilted to the lirst. stiV

I5ti THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

there is the forethought of the second pervading the first, whieli were hardly reconcileable with diversity of authorship. Then, over and above all this, there is an identity of conception and characterization in the two plays, resulting in a vital, organic unity and continuity. And this is the strongest argument of all. For it might be safely affirmed, that none but the beginner of HoHng- broke's character in Richard II. could have thus continued it in Henry IV.

Now this argument will hold good in every particular, and, if possible, with still greater force, between Henry VI. and Richard III. Not only is the latter dramatically and logically filled to the former, but tue design and purpose of the latter were evidently iv the author's mind while writing the former. And the unit}1 o' characterization, in Edward, Margaret, and especially in Richaro is every whit as perfect, as organic, and as strong, as in rase ol Bolingbroke. We may safely affirm that The Third Part t.f Henry VI., as it stands in the quarto, is, in its design, structure, and conception, essentially a drama to be continued. But thij point needs illustrating, and our specimens shall all be from tin original form of the play. Thus in Richard's soliloquy, Act iii sc. 2:

" Ay, Edward will use women honourably. Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all ! That from bis loins no issue might succeed, To hinder me from the golden time 1 look for ; For I am not yet look'd on in the world. First is there Edward, Clarence, and Henry, And his son, and all they look for issue Of their loins, ere I can plant myself."

Thus also in Henry's prophecy to Richard in the Tower, Act v se. 6:

" That many a widow for her husband's death, And many an infant's water-standing eye, Widows for their husbands, children for their fathers, Shall curse the time that ever-thou wert born."

And ir Richard's dark mutterings to himself in the same scene after killing Henry :

" Clarence, beware ; thou keep'st me Ir»m the light ; But I will sort a pitchy day for thee : For I will buz abroad such prophecies, Under pretence of outward-seeming ill, As Edward shall be fearful of his life, And then to purge his fear I'll be thy death."

INTRODUCTION. 167

And again (be breaking out of his Moody designs in (lie last scene . the third line of course referring to liis head and his luind:

" This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave ; And heave it shall some weight, or break my back . Work thou the way, — and thou shall execute."

And, above all, the episodical dialogue and prophecy of Henry touching' young Richmond, Act iv. sc. 6 :

" Come hither, pretty lad : If heavenly powers Do aim aright to my divining thoughts, Thou, pretty boy, shall prove this country's Hiss."

It were needless to urge how out of place these things arc, save as bespeaking a coutinuation of the subject, and just such a con tinuation, withal, as we have in Richard HI. In the latter play the seeds, which had been thus dropped for future bearing, " be- come the hatch and brood of time.'' Among the very first thing* we meet with therein is the avowal of " inductions dangerous '' already set on foot in fulfilment of the promise touching Clarence. And in Act iv. sc. 2, we have Richard remembering how Henry

" Did prophesy that Richmond should be king, Wheu Richmond was a little peevish boy."

And the latter play abounds quite unusually in references to what was said and done in the former. For instance, in Act i. sc. 4, we find that Clarence lias been dreaming of his perjury to War- wick, and of his stabbing Prince Edward in the field by Tewks- bury ; both which events occurred in Act v. scenes 1 and 5 of the preceding play. Again, in the former play, Act i. sc. 4, we have the napkin dipped in Rutland's blood, and given to his father, nud York saying to bis tormentors, who had mockingly crowned him viih paper, — " Here, take the crown, and with the crown my curse," — and when the savage cruellies are over, Margaret says, — " What ! weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland ? " All which things are minutely referred lo in Act i. sc. 3, of the latter play where Margaret is put to a recollection of her cruelty, Buck; ig- bun telling her how " Northumberland, then present, wept to se« it," *-iJ Richard reminding her of

" The curse my noble father laid on ihee, When thou didst crown bis warlike brows with paper And with thy scorns drew*sl rivers from his ayes; Ami ihen, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout Sleep'd in the I toilless blood of pretty Rutland! "

158 THE SECONL* PAKi OK HENRY VI.

Tnese thing's, to be sure, are all just what we might expect fron an author, continuing his own work, with the same characters and the same course of events, and writing under a vivid reinemr-'ance of what he had formerly set forth. In this case, and in this alone it was natural that the two plays in question should he thus closely knit together by mutual references, the weak beginnings of things suggesting the thought of distant results, and the harvest putting the reapers in mind how and what they had sown. And so it might be shown that the substance and body of Richard III. is in great part but a development of things presignified in the foregc- iag play. The continuing of Margaret on the scene, which is all against the truth of history, was to the very end, apparently, that the parties might have a terrible present remembrancer of their former deeds ; even as the manhood of Richard was by many years anticipated for the seeming1 purpose of carrying on a livelier recollection of the first beginnings into the final issues of this mul titudinous tragedy.

The unity and continuity of he characterization will be better made appear in our Introduction to the Third Part, when we come to speak of the characters in de.ail. For the present, suffice it to say, on this score, that in Richard preeminently, and proportiona- bly in several others, the Second and Third Parts, in their original form, exemplify in large measure Shakespeare's most peculiar method of conceiving and working out character. Strong indeed must be the external evidence, to persuade us that 3113' mind but Shakespeare's could have originated and expressed the conception of that terrible man, — so merry-hearted, subtle-wilted, and bloody- banded, whose mental efficacy turns perjury, murder, and what U worse, if aught worse there be, to poetry, — as he grows up from youth to manhood in the two plays under consideration, at once the offspring and the avenger of civil butchery.

As to the general style and toning of these plays, their logical and metrical cast and complexion, nothing better, it should seem need be desired than the remarks of Dr. Johnson. " The three parts of King Henry VI.," says he, " are declared, by Dr. War- burton, to be certainly not Shakespeare's. He gives no reason ; but I suppose him to draw his opinion from the general effect and ipirit of the composition, which he thinks inferior to the other his- torical plays. From mere inferiority nothing can be inferred : in the productions of wit there will be inequality. Sometimes judg- ment will err, and sometimes the matter itself will defeat the artist. Of every author's works, one will be the best, and one will be the worst. The colours are not equally pleasing, nor the attitudes equally graceful, in all the pictures of Titian or Reynolds. Dis- similitude of stvle and heterogeneousness of sentiment may suffi cicntly sliow that a work docs not really belong to the reputed author lint in these plays no such marks of spuriousncss ar«

INTRODUCTION. 159

found, flic diction, the versification, and the figures are Shake speared."

Tin" period of ilie Second Part extends from the arrival of (Juooi Margaret in England, May, 14-lo, till lite first battle or" St. Albans, May, 1455. Except in one instance, the leading event! of the drama come along in their actual order. That exception i« the proceedings in the case of Dame Eleanor, which really oc- curred several years before the opening of the play. Her crime and disgrace, however, are properly represented here, as thej haC a large share in bringing about the fall of her husband, while hit (all had in turn much to do in kindling the fierce domestic wan that form thr main subject of this and the following play, fie- sides, the matter in question furnishes occasion for a most charac leristic passage between the duchess and the queen, though in fact they never met ; thus giving an early taste of the haughty, vindic- tive temper, the indomitable energy, and fire-spouting tongue, which mark the whole course of Margaret, fitting her to be, as in truth she was, the constant provoker and stirrer-up of hatreds and strife*. And it seems no slight argument of a common authorship, that the ruin of the duchess is here borrowed from the time of the preceding play, as the death of the Talbols was there borrowed from the period of this, the two events being thus assorted into their respective connections; while, as regards the main action of the play, their effect is the same, whether set forth in their actual onirr or nut.

la all other points the opening of ilw present play takes up the thread of history precisely where it was left at the close of the former. And the proceedings of the Second Part for the most part grow forth naturally and ill course from the principles of the FIISI. the two plays being as closely interwoven as any two acts of either. The criminal passion of Margaret and Suffolk, which *as there presented in the bud. here blossoms and goes to seed, setting him near the throne, and thereby at once feeding his pride and chitting the pride of his enemies ; while the losses in France, before represented, are ever and anon recurring as matter of con- r.aual twitting* and jerks, the rust of former miscarriages thus at the same time keeping the old wounds from healing, and causing the new ones to fester and rankle. As the amiable imbecility of the king invites and smooths the way for the arrogance and over wet-mug of the queen and her favourites, this naturally sets the aipiring and far-reaching York upon the policy of hewing away one alter another the main supports of the rival house, that so al last he may heave it to the ground, and out of its ruins build up his own. The fall of Gloster is ihe first practicable breach; though, in making York a secret plotter and instigator of the con- ipiiacy against him, it mnv t-e questionable whether the interest of the drama be not s«*r\ed too much al the expense of history 1 ben, in strict accordance with the suspicious of the tune, York '•

00 THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI.

represented as scheming afar off the insurrection of Cade, as » sort of f(-eler of the public pulse, and then taking- advantage of it to push his designs. That insurrection comes in aptly as the first outbreak of the great social schism, the elements of which had been long working in secret, and growing to a head. The pas- sages of humour, interspersed through the scenes of Cade and his followers, being mostly the same in the original form of the play, yield strong evidence in the question of authorship. It seems hard to believe that any one but Shakespeare could have wriitprj them, no instances in that line at all approaching these having been elsewhere given by any other writer of that time. For in poetry merely, Shakespeare, though immeasurably above any or all of his senior contemporaries, differs from them but in degree j but in the article of humour he shows a difference from them in kind. And it is remarkable that the instinct and impulse of hu- mour seem in this case to have put him upon blending together the elements of two widely-separated passages of history : the persons and events being those of the insurrection known as Jack Cade's ; while the sentiments and designs are the same, in port, which became matter of history some seventy years before in the ebellion of Wat Tyler and Jack Straw. This curious fact was first pointed out by Mr. Courtenay, who cites the following from Holinshed's account of the earlier insurrection : " They began to (show proof of those things which they had before conceived ia their minds, — beheading all such men of law as they might catch, alleging that the land could never enjoy her true liberty till all those sorts of people were despatched out of the way. This talk liked well the ears of the common people, and they purposed to burn and destroy all records, evidences, court-rolls, and other monuments, that their landlords might not have whereby to chal- lenge any right at their hands. What wickedness was it, to com- pel teachers of children in grammar schools to swear never to instruct any in this art ! For it was dangerous among them to be known for one that was learned ; and more dangerous, if any one were found with a penner and ink-horn at his side. At Black- ueath, when the greatest multitude was there got together, John Ball made a sermon, taking this saying for his theme :

When Adam delv'd and Eve span, Who was then a gentleman 1 "

After the quelling of Cade's insurrection, which was in July 1460, the Poet overleaps the events, with one exception, of more than four years, and enters upon the preliminaries of the baitle of St. Albuns. which was the tirst ripe fulfilment of the presage and promise given out far back in the scene of the Temple Gar- den, and the forethought of which is more or less apparent in the whole preceding matter of the dramatic series. As to the rest,

INTRODUCTION. 161

tne m.-iin events or the play, with the historical passage-; nhereon tlicv are founded, will be set forth in notes from time to time, at they occur.

The Second Part of Henry VI. is manifestly a great advance upon the First, and that iu nearly all the particulars of dramatic excellence. The several members are well knit together ; the characterization is bold, but, iu the main, linn and steady ; the action clear, free, and generally carried on in that consecutiveness tiat every later part seems the natural growth and issue of what had gone before. Much of this superiority, uo doubt, was owing to the nature of the materials, which, besides yielding a greatci variety of interest, were of themselves more limber and pliant to the shaping of art, and presented less to distract and baffle the powers of dramatic assortment and composition. The losses iu France having been despatched in the former play, nothing of them remained for the Poet's use, but the domestic irritations they bad engendered ; which irritations were as so many eggs of dis cord in the nest of English life, and Queen Margaret the hot- breasted fury that hatched them into effect. The batching process is the main subject of this play, and to that end the representation is ordered with considerable skill.

Nor is the superiority of this play any greater in the general effect, than in the force and beauty of particular scenes and pas- sages. Of single speeches, that of Gloster in Act iii. sc. 1, be ginning, — •« Ah, gracious lord ! these days are dangerous ; " that of Warwick in the next scene but one, describing the signs of Glosler's having been murdered ; and that of Suffolk in the same scene, telling how he would curse his enemies ; also, the longer speech of Lord Say, iu Act iv. sc. 7, pleading for his life ; and that of young Clifford iu Act v. sc. 2, where he finds his father dead ; — all these may be mentioned as superior to any thing of the kind in the First Part, and such, indeed, as would hardly discredit the Poet's best dramas. And of whole scenes, the sec- ond in Act iii., and the seventh in Act iv., may be cited as in- stances of high and varied excellence. Far above all other*, boweve;, is the death-scene of Cardinal Beaufort, which is aw- fully impressive, running into the very heights of moral sublimity, an 1 apt to remind us of the sleep-walking scene in Macbeth. Schlegcl justly remarks concerning it, — " Can any other poet be named, who has drawn aside the curtain of eternity at the close of this life with such overpowering and awful effect 7 Anil yd it is not mere horror with which the mind is filled, but solemn emotion. A blessing and a curse stand side by side : the pious king is an image of the heavenly mercy which, even in the sin ner's last moments, labours to enter his soul."

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

Lanca? trians

KING HENRY THE SIXTH.

HUMPHREY, Duke of Gloster, his Uncle.

HENRY BEAUFORT, Cardinal, and Bishop of Wine hester

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York.

EDWARD and RICHARD, his Sons.

EDMUND BEAUFORT, Duke of Somerset,

WILLIAM DE LA POOLE, Duke of Suffolk,

HUMPHREY STAFFORD, Duke of Buckingham,

THOMAS LORD CLIFFORD,

JOHN CLIFFORD, his Son,

RICHARD NEVILLE, Earl of Salisbury, ? v k t

RICHARD, his Son, Earl of Warwick, )

LORD SAY. LORD SCALES, Governor of the Tower.

SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD, and WILLIAM, his Brother

SIR JOHN STANLEY. WALTER WHITMORE.

A Sea-Captain, Master, and Master's Mate.

VAUX. Two Gentlemen, Prisoners with Suffolk

HUME and SOUTHWELL, Priests.

BOLINGBROKE, a Conjurer. A Spirit raised by him.

THOMAS HORNER, an Armourer. PETER, his Man.

Clerk of Chatham. Mayor of St. Albans.

SIMPCOX, an Impostor. Two Murderers.

JACK CADE, a Rebel.

GEORGE, JOHN, DICK, MICHAEL, \ ~, „ e r, .

i! nr j /-v L / Followers of Cade.

SMITH the Weaver, and Others, \

ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish Gentleman.

MARGARET OF ANJOU, Queen to Henry VI. ELEANOR COBHAM, Duchess of Gloster. MARGERY JOUKDAIN, a Witch. Wife to Simpcox

Lords, Ladies, and Yttendants ; a Herald ; Petitioners, AJ derraen, a Beadle, Sheriff, and Officers ; Citizens, Pren- lices, Falconers, Guarr's, Soldiers, Messengers, &e.

SCENE, in various parts of England

SECOND PART OF HENRY Yi

ACT 1.

SCENE I. London. A Room of State in the Palace

Flourish of Trumpets: then Hautboys. Enter, on one Side, King HENRY, Duke of GLOSTER, SAL- ISBURY, WARWICK, and Cardinal BEAUFORT; on the other, Queen MARGARET, led in by SUFFOLK ; YORK, SOMERSET, BUCKINGHAM, and Others, fol- lowing.

Sujf. As by your high imperial majesty I had in charge at my depart for France, As procurator to your excellence, To marry Princess Margaret for your grace ; So, in the famous ancient city, Tours, — In presence of the kings of France and Sicil, The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, and

Alen^on, Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend

bishops, —

I have perform 'd my task, and was espous'd : And humbly now upon my bended knee, In sight of England and her lordly peers, Deliver up my title in the queen

104 THE SECOND PART ACT i

To your most gracious hands, that are the substance1 Of that great shadow I did represent ; The happiest gift that ever marquess gave, The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd.

King. Suffolk, arise. — Welcome, queen Marga- ret:

I can express no kinder sign of love, Than this kind kiss. — O Lord ! that lends me life, Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness ; For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face, A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.

Queen. Great king of England, and my gracious

lord,

The mutual conference that my mind hath had — By day, by night, waking, and in my dreams, In courtly company, or at my beads — With you mine alderliefest 2 sovereign,

This and the four preceding lines stand thus in the quarto t

" I did perform my task, and was espous'd : And now, most humbltj on my bended knees, In sight of England and her royal peers, Deliver up my title in the queen I nto your gracious excellence," &c.

Of the lines inr rked by M? one as altered from the quarto, a very large part have only such trifl'ng verbal alterations as these, the thoughfs, and in most cases the imagery remaining precisely the same. The rest of this speech is found verbatim in the quarto, save that the first line has " majesty's command." — The matter is thus given by Holinshed, after Hall : " The marquesse of Suf- folke, as procurator to king Henrie, espoused the said ladie in the Church of saint Martins. At the which mariage were present the father and mother of the bride ; the French king hinselfe, which was uncle to the husband ; and the French quecne also, which was aunt to the wife. There were also the dukes of Orleance, of Cal- abre, of Alanson, and of Brltaine, scaven earls, twelve barons, twenty bishops, beside knights and gentlemen." H.

* That :s, dearest of all, from aller or alder, all, and liefest, the

«C. I. OF HENHY VI. Iflfc

Makes me the bolder to salute my kin;: With ruder terms, such as my wit aftbrds, And over-joy of heart doth minister.

King. Her sight did ravish ; but her grace in

speech,

Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, Makes me from wondering fall to weeping joys ; Such is the fulness of my heart's content. — Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love.

AIL Long live queen Margaret, England's hap-

piness

Queen. We thank you all. [Flourish.

Stiff. My lord protector, so it please your grace, Here are the articles of contracted peace, Between our sovereign and the French king, Charles, For eighteen months concluded by consent.

Glo. [Reads.] Imprimis : It is agreed between the French king, Charles, and William de la Poole, marquess of Suf- folk, ambassador for Henry, king of England, — that the said Henry shall espouse the lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier, king of Naples, Sicilia, and Jerusalem ; and crown her queen of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item, — That the duchy of Anjou and the coun- ty of Maine, shall be released and delivered to the king her father ; —

King. Uncle, how now ?

Glo. Pardon me, gracious lord :

Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart, And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further.

superlative of lirfe or lime, dear. The word, though pretty much obsolete in Shakespeare's time, was occasionally used by the aider writers. Thus in Chaucer's Troilus and Creseide, Rook iii. v. 239 : " Mine alderlcvett lord, and brother dere." The German has at- ierlirbtt, and the Dutch aUerlir/ttr, in the same sense. Alder also occurs in composition with other words, as alderbtit, uldrrjirit aMfrLa.it, aldtrmoit, all in Chaucer H

IM THE SECOND PART ACT 1

King Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on.

Card. Item, — It is further agreed between them, - that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over to the king her father ; 3 and she sent over of the king of England's own proper cost and charges, without having dowry.

King. They please us well. — Lord marquess

kneel down :

We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk, And girt thee with the sword. — Cousin of York, We here discharge your grace from being regent I'the parts of France, till term of eighteen months Be full expir'd. — Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloster, York, Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury and Warwick ; We thank you all for this great favour done, In entertainment to my princely queen. Come, let us in ; and with all speed provide To see her coronation be perform'd.

[Exeunt the KING, QUEEN, and SUFFOLK.

Glo. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief, Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What ! did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coin, and people, in the wars? Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold, arid summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits,

3 Of course ihe reader will observe that this item does not run the same as it did in the hands of Gloster. Malone remarks, (hat " the words of the instrument could not thus vary whilst it wai passing from the hands of the duke to those of the cardinal.' Doubtless Gloster had caught the drift and substance of the docu menl, but the dimness of his eyes prevented his reading with literal exactness. H.

SC. I. OF HENRY VT. 1CT

To keep by policy what Henry pot?

H:iv<; you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,

Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,

Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy?

Or hath mine uncle Beaufort, and myself,

With all the learned council of the realm,

Studied so long, sat in the council-house

Early and late, debating to and fro

How France and Frenchmen might be kept m

awe?

And hath his highness in his infancy Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes? And shall these labours and these honours diet Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die ? O, peers of England ! shameful is this league : Fatal this marriage ; cancelling your fame, Blotting your names from books of memory, Razing the characters of your renown, Defacing monuments of conquer'd France, Undoing all, as all had never been !*

4 Every line of this speech, except the first, is marked hy Ma /one as being altered from the quarto. That it may appear how untrue he is herein to his arithmetic ; and also that the reader may have a specimen of the changes in the folio, we subjoin the wt oU speech as it stands in the quarto:

" Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you Duke Humphrey must unfold his grief. What ! did my brother Henry toil himself, And waste his subjects, for to conquer France T And did my brother Bedford spend his time, To keep in awe that stout unruly realm 1 And have not I and mine uncle Beaufort here Done all we could to keep that land in peace T And are all our labours, then, spent quite in vain 1 For Suffolk he, the new-made duke that rules the rooit Hath given away, for our King Henry's queen. The duchies of Anjou and Maine unto her father. Ah lords ! fatal is this marriage, cancelling our states

IG» THE SECOND PART ACT 1

Card. Nephew, what means this passionate dis- course,

This peroration with such circumstance ? * For France, 'tis ours ; and we will keep it stilL

Glo. Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can ; But now it is impossible we should : Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast,* Hath given the duchy of Anjou, and Maine, Unto the poor king Reignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.7

Sal. Now, by the death of Him that died for all, These counties were the keys of Normandy. — But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?8

Reversing monuments of conquer'd France, Undoing all, as none had ne'er been done."

It will he seen upon comparison, that of twenty-eight lines fifteen were original in the folio, though ihe new lines are little more than an amplification of the old thoughts. We have taken some pains to test the accuracy of Malone's marking throughout this first scene, and find that of 259 lines he lias marked 61 as added, and 100 as altered. In point of fact, however, the scene has 112 pe- culiar to the folio, 78 altered from the quarto, and 69 common to both. So that the facts are almost as far from bearing out his reckoning, as that reckoning is from bearing out his theory. H.

6 This speech crowded with so many circumstances of aggra vation.

• This word, spelt rost in the original, ought perhaps to be roon However, Richardson explains it, " to rule the roast, as king of the feast, orderer, purveyor, president ; " and he adds. " or may it not be to rule the roost, an expression of which every poult ry-yanl would supply an explanation ? " So in Bishop Jewell's Defence : " Qeate you nowe up into your pulptes like bragginge cockes on the rowst, flappe your whinges, and crowe out aloude." H.

7 See Act v. sc. 5, note 5, of the preceding play.

9 The Salisbury of this play was Richard Neville, second son U> Ralph Neville, whom we have often met with in former plays as earl of Westmoreland. Richard was married to Alice, the only child and heir of Thomas Montacute, the earl of Salisbury who was killed at the siege of Orleans in 1428; and thus brought that earldom into the Neville family. His oldest son, Richard, •gain, was married to Anne, the sister and heir of Henry Beau- champ, earl of Warwick, and so succeeded to that earldom u>

SO. I. OF HENRY VI. 109

War. For grief, that they are past recovery; For, were there hope to conquer them again, My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no

tears.

Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both; Tlmse provinces these arms of mine did conquer: And are the cities, that I got with wounds, Deliver'd up again with peaceful words? Mort Dieu !

York. For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate. That dims the honour of this warlike isle ! France should have torn and rent my very heart, Before I would have yielded to this league. I never read but England's kings have had Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their wive*; And our King Henry gives away his own, To match with her that brings no vantages.

Glo. A proper jest, and never heard before, That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth, For costs and charges in transporting her ! * She should have stay'd in France, and starv'd in

France, Before —

Card, My lord of Gloster, now you grow too hot: It was the pleasure of my lord the king.

1449. Shakespeare, though be rightly makes Warwick the ton of Salisbury, attributes to him the acts of Richard Beaucbamp, the earl of Warwick who figures in the preceding play. See the First Part. Act ii. se. 4, note 4. Perhaps it should be acded toat there is the same confusion in the quarto ; which may be some evidence that Shakespeare was the author of that H.

' So in Holinshed : " First, the king had not one penie with hir ; and for (he fetching of hir the marquesse of SurTolke de- manded a whole fifteenth in open parlement. And also there was delivered for hir the duchie of Anjou, the citie of Mans, and the whole countie of Maine, which countries were the verie stales and backestauiis to the duchie of Nonnandie " H

170 THE SECOND PART ACT L

Glo. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind 'Tis not ray speeches that you do mislike, But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye. Rancour will out : proud prelate, in thy lace I see thy fury : If I longer stay, We shall begin our ancient bickerings. — Lordings, farewell ; and say, when I am gone, I prophesied, France will be lost ere long. [Exit,

Card. So, there goes our protector in a rage. 'Tis known to you he is mine enemy ; Nay, more, an enemy unto you all, A.nd no great friend, I fear me, to the king. Consider, lords, he is the next of blood, And heir-apparent to the English crown : Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, There's reason he should be displeas'd at it. Look to it, lords : let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts ; be wise, and circumspect. What though the common people favour him, Calling him " Humphrey the good duke of Glos-

tor;"

Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice, " Jesu maintain your royal excellence ! " With — " God preserve the good Duke Humphrey ! " I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, He will be found a dangerous protector.

Buck. Why should he, then, protect our sovereign, He being of age to govern of himself? — Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, And all together, with the duke of Suffolk, We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from hih seat

Card. This weighty business will not brook de- lay: I'll to the duke of Suffolk presently. [Exit.

9C. I OF HENRY VI. 171

Som. Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey'g

pride,

And greatness of his place be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal : His insolence is more intolerable Thau all the princes in the land beside : If Gloster be displac'd, he'll be protector.

Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector, Despite Duke Humphrey, or the cardinal.

[Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET.

SaL Pride went before, ambition follows him. While these do labour for their own preferment, Behoves it us to labour for the realm. I never saw but Humphrey, duke of Gloster, Did bear him like a noble gentleman. Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal, More like a soldier than a man o'the Church, As stout and proud as he were lord of all, Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a common-weal. — Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age, Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping, Have won the greatest favour of the commons, Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey : — And, brother York,10 thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline; Thy late exploits, done in the heart of France,

10 The present duke of York married Cicely, daughter to Ralph Neville, earl of Westmoreland, by Joan his first wife, who, agaii., was daughter to John of Ghent by Catharine Swynford. S.ilis- hury was the son of Westmoreland by a second wife. Of course therefore York's wife was half-sitter to the earl of Salisbury. — The Poet here anticipates. York, having been appointed to the regency of France a second time, was forced to give up that place lo liis rival, Somerset, and accept the government of Ireland in- ftead ; from which latter country he did not return till 1450, mote than three years alter the death of Cardinal !>• aulbri. H.

172 THE SECOND PART ACT 1

When thou wert regent for our sovereign,

Have made thee fear'd, and honour'd of the pe »

pie. —

Join we together, for the public good, In what we can to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal, With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition ; And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds, Wliile they do tend the profit of the land.

War. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, And common profit of his country !

York. And so says York, for he hath greatest cause.

SaL Then let's make haste away, and look unto the main.

War. Unto the main ! O father ! Maine is lost ; That Maine, which by main force Warwick did win, And would have kept, so long as breath did last : Main chance, father, you meant ; but I meant Maine, Which I will win from France, or else be slain.

[Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY.

York. AJIJOU and Maine are given to the French ; Paris is lost ; the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle " point, now they are gone : Suffolk concluded on the articles, The peers agreed, and Henry was well-pleas'd To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter I cannot blame them all : what is't to them 1 Tis mine they give away, and not their own.

11 Tickle was much used anciently for ticklish, meaning ttn steady, tottering. Thus in Spenser's fragment, Of Mutabilitie tan. 7, stan. 22 :

« O weake life ! that does leane On thing so tickle as th' unsteady Ayre, Which every howre is chang'd, and altred cleaue With every blast that bloweth fowle 01 faire." •

SC. 1. OF HENRY VI. 173

Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pil- lage,

And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, Still revelling, like lords, till all be gone ; While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands, And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof, While all is shar'd, and all is borne away ; Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own : So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue, While his own lands are bargain'd for, and sold. Methinks, the realms of England, France, and Ire- land,

Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood, As did the fatal brand Althea burn'd, Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.1* Anjou and Maine both given unto the French ! Cold news for me ; for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England's soil. A day will come when York shall claim his own , And therefore I will take the Nevilles' parts, And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey, And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that's the golden mark I seek to hit. Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, Nor hold his sceptre in his childish fist, Nor wear the diadem upon his head, Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown. Then, York, be still a while, till time do serve :

11 According to Ovid, the life of Meleager, prince of Caljdor was made to depend on a certain firebrand ; which being tlirowr into the fire by his mother Althea, he expired in great torments.— Thus far this specrh was entirely new in the folio : the rest is re- tained verbatim as it stands in the quarto. Need it be said, thai the latter half, besides being quite as good as the former in itself vi more characteristic of the speaker? H.

174 THE SECOND PART ACT I

Watch thou, and wake, when others be asle«p,

To pry into the secrets of the state ;

Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love,

With his new bride, and England's dear-bought

queen,

And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars : Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, With whose sweet sjnell the air shall be perfum'd; And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple with the house of Lancaster ; And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down.

[Exit

SCENE II. The same. A Room in the Duke of GLOSTER'S House.

Enter GLOSTER and the Duchess.1 Duch, Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn, Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load 1

1 The present duchess of Gloster was Eleanor, daughter to Reginald lord Cobham. The duke had formerly lived on suclt terms with Jacqueline of Bavaria, that she was commonly sup posed to he his wife ; but, as she already had a husband, John duke of Brabant, from whose claim she could not get a legal re lease, her union with Gloster was obliged to be broken off. Mean- while, the duke had been openly living with Eleanor Cobham as his mistress, insomuch that in 1428 the principal matrons of Lon- don went to the House of Lords with a petition against him for having neglected his lawful wife. Lingard says, — "The beauty of Eleanor was as distinguished as her morals were dissolute. After contributing to the pleasures of different noblemen, she be- came acquainted with the duke, whose attachment to her was so great, that even after his union with Jacqueline he kept her always near his persoc. What answer was returned to the petition is iiot known ; but the duke soon afterwards, to the surprise of Europe, publicly acknowledged Cobham for his wife." The marriage le- gitimated their union indeed, but did not make her character clean in the public eye; aaid the pride, avarice, and licentious- ness of Dame Eleanor, as she wis called, finally led to her rum

u.

M'. II. OF HENRY VI. !75

Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows,

As frowning at th»; favours of the world ?

Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth,

(la/.ing on that which seems to dim thy sight?

What seest thou there? King Henry's diadem,

Enchas'd with all the honours of the world?

If BO, gaze on, and grovel on thy face,

Until thy head be circled with the same.

Put forth thy hand; reach at the glorious gold.—

What! is't too short? I'll lengthen it witli mine;

And, having both together heav'd it tip,

We'll both together lift our heads to heaven,

And never more abase our sight so low,

As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.

Glo. O Nell ! sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy

lord,

Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts : And may that thought, when I imagine ill Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, lie my last breathing in this mortal world ! My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. DHL h. What dream'd my lord ? tell me, and I'll

requite it

With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. (Hi.. Methought, this staif, mine office-badge in

court,

Was broke in twain ; by whom, I have forgot, But, as I think, it was by the cardinal ; And on the pieces of the broken wand Were plac'd the heads of Edmund duke of Som- erset,

And William de la Poole, first duke of Suffolk. Tfiis was my dream : what it doth bode, God knows.1

* This entire speech is marked by Malone as altered from tfc« quarto. Whether the changes were substantial, or merely verbal,

176 THE SECOND PART ACT 1

DucJi. Tut ! this was nothing but an argument, That he that breaks a stick of Cluster's grove Shall lose his head for his presumption. But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: Methought, I sat in seat of majesty, In the cathedral church of Westminster, And in that chair where kings and queens are

fvownM ;

Where Henry and dame Margaret kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the diadem.

Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright: Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor ! Art thou not second woman in the realm, And the protector's wife, belov'd of him ? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command. Above the reach or compass of thy thought? And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, To tumble down thy husband, and thyself, From top of honour to disgrace's feet ? Away from me, and let me hear no more.

Duch. What, what, my lord ! are you so choleric With Eleanor, for telling but her dream ? Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself, And not be check'd.

Glo. Nay, be not angry ; I am pleas'd again.

of course his marking does not show. That it may be seen how little of the speech is peculiar to the folio, and also in further proof ->f what was alleged in note 1 of the preceding scene, we subjoin the speech as first printed :

" This night, when I was laid in bed, I dreamt That this my staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain ; by whom I cannot guess, But, as I think, by the cardinal. What it bodes God knows : and on the ends were plac'd The heads of Edmund, duke of Somerset, Am? William de la Poole, first duke of Suffolk." H

SC. li. OF HENRY VI. 17?

Enter a Messenger.

Altss. My lord protector, 'tis liis liighness' pleiis-

ure,

Von do prepare to ride unto St. Albans, Whereas* the king and queen do mean to hawk. Glo. I go. — Come, Nell ; thou wilt ride with \is1 Duck. Yes, good my lord, I'll follow presently.

[Exeunt GLOSTER awl Messenger. Follow I must; I cannot go before, While Gloster bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks, And smooth my way upon their headless necks : And, being a woman, I will not be slack To play my part in fortune's pageant. Where are you there 1 Sir John ! * nay, fear nut,

man, We are alone ; here's none but thee and I.*

Enter HUME. Hume. Jesus preserve your royal majesty !

* Whereas for where ; a common substitution in old language, M whrrr is often used for whereat.

* That is, Kir John Hume. For this use of the title Sir, see The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act i. sc. 1, note 1. H.

* Of this speech all is marked by Malone as origins, in the folio, but the first two lines and the last two. The accuracy of this marking may be best judged by having the speech as it «taudi in the quarto :

" I'll come after you ; for I cannot go before, As long as Gloster bears this base and humble minrl i Were I a man, and protector as be is, I'd reach to th' crown, or make some hop headless * And being but a woman, I'll not behind For playing of my part, in spite of all that seek To cross me thus. Who is within there *, What ! Sir John Hume, what news with you T ' B.

178 THE SECOND PART ACT I.

Duch. What say'st thou 1 majesty ! 1 am but

grace. Hume. But, by the grace of God, and Hume's

advice, Your grace's title shall be multiplied.

Duch. What say'st thou, man 1 hast thou as yet

conferred

With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch, And Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? And will they undertake to do me good I

Hume. This they have promised, — to show your

highness

A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground, That shall make answer to such questions, As by your grace shall be propounded him.

Duch. It is enough : I'll think upon the questions. When from St. Albans we do make return, We'll see these things effected to the full. Here, Hume, take this reward ; make merry, man, With thy confederates in this weighty cause.

[Exit the Duchess Hume. Hume must make merry with the duchess

gold;

Marry, and shall. But how now, Sir John Hume ! Seal up your lips, and give no words but mum • The business asketh silent secrecy. Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch : Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil Yet have I gold, flies from another coast : I dare not say, from the rich cardinal, A nd from the great and new-made duke of Suffolk ; Yet I do find it so : for, to be plain, They, knowing dame Eleanor's aspiring humour, Have hired me to undermine the duchess, And buz these conjurations in her braiii.

SC. III. OF HENRY Vt. 179

Tliry say. :i r nifty knave does need no broker; Yet am 1 Suffolk and the cardinal's broker. Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go nrar To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. Well, so it stands ; and thus, I fear, at last, Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wreck ; And her attainture mil be Humphrey's fall. Sort how it will,' I shall have gold for all. [Exit

SCENE III.

The same. A Room in the Palace.

Enter PETER, and Ot/icrs, with Petitions.

1 Pet. My masters, let's bland close : my lord protector will come tliis way by and by, and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill.1

2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a pood man ! Jesu bless him !

Enter SUFFOLK, and Queen MARGARET.

1 Pet. Here a' comes, metliinks, and the queen with him. I'll be the first, sure.

* That is, let it happen, or be allotted, as it will ; to tort being formerly used for to take or give by lot. 11.

1 There have been some strange conjectures in explanation of this phrase, in the quill. Steevens says that il mav mean no irnre than u-riUen or penned, as we still say in print for prilled. Mr. Toilet thinks it means with great exactnett and observance of form, in allusion to the quilled or plaited ruff*. Hawkins suggests tliat it may be the same with the French en qttille, said of a man when he stands upright upon bis feet, without moving from the place, in allusion to quille, a ninepin. Singer thinks it to be nothing more than an intention to mark the vulgar pronunciation of in t>., r»i , that is, in the buttle. Coil is spelt in the old dictionaries .{noil, and was no doubt of'.en pronoiuiccd by ignorant persons fuilt of ft*

t«() THE SECOND PART ACT 1.

2 Pet. Come hack, fool! this is the duke of Suf- folk, and not my lord protector.

Suff. How now, fellow ! would'st any thing with ine 1

1 Pet. I pray, my lord, pardon me : I took ye for my lord protector.

Queen. [Reading the Superscription.] " To my lord protector ! " Are your supplications to his lord- ship 7 Let me see them : What is thine ?

1 Pet. Mine is, an't please your grace, against John Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keep- ing my house, and lands, and wife and all, from me.

Suff. Thy wife too ! that is some wrong indeed. — What's yours? — What's here? [Reads.] "Against the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons of Melford." — How now, sir knave !

2 Pet. Alas, sir ! I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township.

Peter. [Presenting his Petition.'] Against my mas- ter, Thomas Horner, for saying, that the duke of York was rightful heir to the crown.

Queen. What say'st tliou ? Did the duke of Vork say he was rightful heir to the crown ?

Peter. That my master was ? No, forsooth : my master said, that he was ; and that the king was an usurper.*

1 This passage is something different in the quarto, and may be thought not to have been bettered by the change :

"Pettr. Marry, sir, I come to tell you, that my master said that ths duke of York was true heir to the crown, and that the king •was an usurer.

"Queen. An usurper thou would'st say.

"Peter. Ay, forsooth, an usurper.

"Queen. Didst thou say the king was an usurper?

"Peter. No, forsooth ; I said my master said so, the other day when we weie scouring the duke of York's armour in our garret.'

H

8C. III. 0V HENRY VI. 1W1

Suf. Who is there? [Enter Servants.] — Take thi.« fellow in, and send for his master with a pur- suivant presently. — We'll hear more of your mutter before the king. [Exeunt Servants with PLTER.

Queen. And as for you, that love to be protected Under the wings of our protector's grace, Begin your suits anew, and sue to him.

[Tears the Petition. Away, base cullions ! — Suffolk, let them go.

All. Come, let's be gone. [Exeunt Petitioners.

Queen. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise. Is this the fashion in the court of England 7 Is tliis the government of Britain's isle, And this the royalty of Albion's king? What ! shall King Henry be a pupil still, Under the surly Gloster's governance? Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made a subject to a duke? I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours Thou rann'st a tilt in honour of my love, And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France, I thought King Henry had resembled thee, In courage, courtship, and proportion ; * But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave-Maries on his beads :

1 In the quarto this passage reads thus :

" I tell thee, Poole, when thou didst ran at tilt, And stol'st away our ladies' hearts in France, I thought King Henry had been like to thee, Or else thon hadst not brought me out of France.''

As Marlowe nas been thought to have written this play u printed in the quarto, it seems but fair to quote a similar passage from hi* Edward II. :

"Tell Isabel, the queen, I look'd not thus, Whon for her sake / ran at tilt in France, And there unhors'd the duke of Cleremoot '' H

182 THE SECOND PART ACT L

His champions are the prophets jvnd apostles ;

His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ;

His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves

Are brazen images of canoniz'd saints.

I would, the college of the cardinals

Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome,

And set the triple crown upon his head :

That were a state fit for his holiness.

Stiff", Madam, be patient: as I was cause Your highness came to England, so will I In England work your grace s full content.

Queen. Beside the haught protector, have we

Beaufort,

The imperious churchman, Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling York : and not the least of these, But can do more in England than the king.

Suff". And he of these, that can do most of all, Cannot do more in England than the Nevilles : Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.

Queen. Not all these lords do vex me half so much, As that proud dame, the lord protector's wife. She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife : Strangers in court do take her for the queen : She bears a duke's revenues on her back,4

4 This line is marked by Malone as being original in the folio a question best settled by quoting the passage as it is in the quarto

" And his proud wife, high-minded Eleanor, That ruffles it with such a troop of ladies, As strangers in the court take her for queen. She bears a duke's whole revenues on her back : The other day she vaunted to her maids, That the very train of her worst gown Was worth more wealth than all my father's lands."

One of Malone's arguments against the original play being Shake speare's is, that it has not the usual resemblances to passages in his other plays Whereupon Knight quotes the following from

SC. III. OF HENKY VI. IJ

And in her heait she scorns our poverty. Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her? Contemptuous base-born callat * as she is, She vaunted 'mon<rst her minions t'other day, The very train of her worst-wearing gown Was better worth than all my father's lands, Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for lu's daughter.

Sujf. Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her ;* And plac'd a choir of such enticing birds, That she will light to listen to the lays, And never mount to trouble you again. So, let her rest ; and, madam, list to me ; For 1 am bold to counsel you in this. Although we fancy not the cardinal, Yet must we join with him, and with the lords, Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace. As for the duke of York, this la:e complaint Will make but little for his benefit : So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last, And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.

Enter King HENRY, YORK, and SOMERSET ; the Dukt and Duchess of GLOSTER, Cardinal BEAUFORT, BUCKINGHAM, SALISBURY, and WARWICK.

King. For my part, noble lords, I care not which ; Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me.

his King John, Act ii. sc. 1 : "Rearing their birthrights proudly on thtir backt." Again, from his Henry VIII., Act i. §e. I : " Many have broke their backs with laying manors on them." H.

* C aliat was an old term of abuse often applied to we men. See The Winter's Tale, Act ii. sc. 3. note 9. H.

* Referring to the ancient use of lime, or, as it is sometimes called, birdlime, which was a sticky substance spread upon twigs •ad bushes to ratrh birds with ; henre put figuratively for any kind of a snare. So this same passage in the original play : •• 1 have set lime-ttrigs that will entangle them." See, also, Alfs Well that Ends Well, Act iii. sc. 6, note 10 u.

184 THE SECOND PART ACT I

York. If York have ill demean M himself in France, Then let him be denay'd7 the regentslup.

Som. If Somerset be unworthy of the place, Let York be regent ; I will yield to him.

War. Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no, Dispute not that York is the worthier.

Card. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.

War. The cardinal's not my better in the field.

Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, War- wick.

War. Warwick may live to be the best of all.

SaL Peace, son ! — and show some reason, Buck- ingham, Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this.

Queen. Because the king, forsooth, will have it so.

Glo. Madam, the king is old enough himself To give his censure : 8 These are no women's matters.

Queen. If he be old enough, what needs your

grace To be protector of his excellence ?

Glo. Madam, I am protector of the realm, And at his pleasure will resign my place.

Suff". Resign it, then, and leave thine insolence Since thou wert king, (as who is king but thou ?) The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck : The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ; And all the peers and nobles of the realm Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.

Card. The commons hast thou rack'd ; the cler- gy's bags Are lank and lean with thy extortions.

1 Demy is sometimes used instead of deny among the oW writers.

8 Censure here i leans simply judgment or opinion ; the senM in '"br'-h it was usei by all the writers of the time.

*<-'. III. OF HENRT VI. 185

Sam. Thy sumptuous buildings, anil thy wife's

.•ittire, Ha\e cost a mass of public treasury.

Buck. Thy cruelty, in execution Upon offenders, hath exceeded law, And left thee to the mercy of the law.*

Queen. Thy sale of offices and towns in France, If they were known, as the suspect is great, Would make thee quickly hop without ^hy head.

[Exit GLOSTER. The QUEEN drops her Fern. Give me my fan : what, minion ! can you not !

[Giving the Duchess a box on the Eat. I cry you mercy, madam : was it you ?

Duch. Was't I ? yea, I it was, proud Frenchwo

man :

Could I come near your beauty with my nails, I'd set my ten commandments in your face.10

King. Sweet aunt, be quiet : 'twas against her will.

* The groundwork of these charges on the duke is thus stated in Holinshed : •• The queene, a ladie of great wit, and no lesse courage, desirous of honour, and furnished with the gilts of rea- son, policie, and wisdome, disdaining that hir husband should t>e ruled rather than rule, first of all excluded the duke of Glocester from all rule and governance, not prohibiting such as she knew to be his mortal foes to invent and imagine causes and grecfs against him and his, insomuch that diverse noblemen conspired against him. Diverse articles were laid against him in open counrejl, and especiallie one, — That he had caused men, adjudged to die, to b« put to other execution than the law of the land assigned." H.

10 This appears to have been a popular phrase for the hand* or ten fingers. Thus in Selimus, Emperor of 'he Turks, 1594 i '< I would set a tap abroach and not live in fear of my wife's ten command insnts." Again, in Westward Hoe, 1607 : " Your harpj has set his ten commandments on my back." And in Udal's ver- •ion of Erasmus' Apothegms : « When Xantippc had pulled awaye her hii-ibande.s co|x» from his hacke, even in tin- open sireele, and his familiar compaignons gave him a by warning to avenge -turtle ft oaitghlic tt.uche or pr.inke with his tennr commanilment*."

186 THE SECOND PART ACT I

Duch. Against her will ! Good king, look to'

in time ;

She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby : Though in this place most master wear no breeches, She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd.11

[Exit.

Buck. Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds: She's tickled now ; her fury needs no spurs, She'll gallop last enough to her destruction. [Exit

Re-enter GLOSTER.

(rlo. Now, lords, my choler being over-blown With walking once about the quadrangle, I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. As for your spiteful false objections, Prove them, and I lie open to the law ; But God in mercy so deal with my soul, As I in duty love my king and country ! But, to the matter that we have in hand : — I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man To be your regent in the realm of France.

Suff. Before we make election, give me leave To show some reason, of no little force, That York is most unmeet of any man.

York. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet. First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride : Next, if I be appointed for the place,

11 This tihing-match of female spite is altogether fictitious ; but it sets forth not unaptly the character of these two women. The fact is, the duchess and queen never met, the former having been put to incurable disgrace in November, 1441, and the latter not having landed in England till May, 1443. H.

!* Can, of this line, was first supplied in the folio of 1632. — In the next line far is commonly changed to fast in modem edi t.ous. «

ST. Ill OF HENRY VI. 187

Mv lord of Somerset will keep me here. Without discharge, money, or furniture, Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands. Last time, I danc'd attendance on his will, Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost."

War. That I can witness ; and a fouler fact Did never traitor in the land commit.

Sujf. Peace, headstrong Warwick !

War. Image of pride, why should I hold my peace?

Filter Servants of SUFFOLK, bringing in HOKNKR and PETER.

Suf. Because here is a man accus'd of treason . Pray God, the duke of York excuse himself!

York. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor?

King. What mean'st thou, Suffolk ? tell me, what are these?

Suff. Please it your majesty, this is the man That doth accuse his master of high treason. His words were these : That Richard, duke of York, Was rightful heir unto the English crown ; And that your majesty was an usurper.

King. Say, man, were these thy words?

Hor. An't shall please your majesty, I never said

13 The iestie of this deadly feud between York and Somerset is thus related by Holinshed : " But the duke of Summerset, still maligning the duke of Yorkes advancement, as be had sought to hinder his dispatch at the first when he was sent over to the regent, likewise now wrought so, that the king revoked the grant made to the duke of Yorke for enjoieng of that office the terir.e of othef five yeeres, and with helpe of William marquesse of Suffolke ob- teined that grant for himselfe. Which malicious deling the duke of Yorke might so evill beare, that in the end the heate of dis- pleasure burst out into such a flame, as consumed at length not ouelie both those two noble personages, but also mauie thousands of others." B.

188 THE SECOND PART ACT I,

nor thought any such matter : God is my witness, I am falsely accus'd by the villain.

Pet. By these ten bones,14 my lords, [Holding up his Hands.] he did speak them to me in the garret one night, as we were scouring my lord of York's armour.

York. Base dunghill villain, and mechanical, I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech ! — I do beseech your royal majesty, Let him have all the rigour of the law.

Hor. Alas ! my lord, hang me, if ever I spake tho words. My accuser is my prentice ; and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me. I have good witness of this : therefore, I beseech your ma- jesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain' accusation.

King. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law ?

Glo. This doom, my lord, if I may judge. Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, Because in York tins breeds suspicion ; And let these have a day appointed them For single combat in convenient place, For he hath witness of his servant's malice. This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's doom

Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty.1*

14 We have just heard a duches? threaten to set her ten com mandments in the face of a quscn. We have here again a simi- lar vulgar expression. It is, however, a very ancient popular ad- juration, and may be found in many old dramatic pieces. Thus in Jacke Jugler :

"Jnrk. Ye, mary, I tell thee Careawaye is my name. Car. And by these tenne bones myne is the same."

And in The longer thou livest the more Fool thou art, 1570 : " By thete tenne bones I will, I have sworne."

J* Before this line, the two following lines, first inserted hv

AC. IV. OF HENRY VI. 189

/for And I accept the combat willingly.

fit. Alas! my lord, I cannot fight: for God's sake, pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth against me. O, Lord have mercy upon me ! I shall never be able to fight a blow : O Lord, my heart!

Glo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hang'd.

King. Away with them to prison ; and the day Of combat shall be the last of the next month. — Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away.

[ExfUTA

SCENE IV. The same. The Duke of OLDSTER'S Garden

Enter MARGERY JOURDAIN, HUME, SOUTHWELL, and BOLINGBROKE.

Hume. Come, my masters : the duchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises.

Baling. Master Hume, we are therefore pro vitlcd. Will her ladyship behold and hear our ex- orcisms ? '

Hume. Ay ; what else 1 fear you not her courage.

Theobald from the quarto, are commonly retained in modern edi- tions, on the ground that Somerset is made to thank the king for ihe regency before the king has confirmed it to him :

'•King. Then be it so. My lord of Somerset, We make your grace lord regent o'er the French."

Bat as the king has already referred to Gloster to pronounce sen- tence of law in the case, perhaps the lines are needless ; not to •ay, that the passage, as it stands, belter shows the habit of almost kingly rule in the duke, and of answering submission in others.'

H.

1 By erorcift Shakespeare invariably means to raise spirits not to lay them See All's Well that Ends Well, Act v. sc 3 •01024.

100 THE SECOND PAKT ACT 1

Baling. I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit : But it shall be convenient, master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be busy below ; and so, I pray you, go in God's name, and leave us. [Exit HUME.] Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate, and grovel on the earth. — John Southwell, read you, and let us to our work.

Enter the Duchess, above.

Duch. Well said, my masters ; and welcome all. To this gear ; 2 the sooner the better.

Baling. Patience, good lady ; wizards know their

times.

Deep night, dark night, the silent 3 of the night, The time of night when Troy was set on fire ; The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs *

howl,

And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves. That time best fits the work we have in hand. Madam, sit you, and fear not : whom we raise, We will make fast witliin a hallow'd verge.

[Here they perform the Ceremonies appertain ing, and make the Circle ; BOLINGBROKE or SOUTHWELL reads, Conjuro te, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly ; then the Spirit risetJu

* Gear was formerly used for any matter or business in hand. See The Merchant of Venice, Act i. sc. 1, note 5. H.

3 A similar expression occurs in 2 Henry IV., Act v. sc. 3: " Now comes in the sweet of the night." Likewise in The Tem- pest, Act i. sc. 2 : " Urchins shall, for that vast of night that they may work, all exercise on thee." The quarto has "the silence of the night." H.

4 Ban-dog, or band-dog, any great fierce dog which required to he tied or chained up. "Cam's Molossus,a mastivc, heare-dog or hull-do '' It is sometimes called in the dictionaries c«»i« cat

SC. IV. OF HENRY VI. 191

Spir. Adsum. Jmird. Asniath !

By the eternal God, whose name and power Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask ; For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence Spit: Ask what thou wilt. — That I had said and

done ! * Baling. First, of the king : what shall of him

become 1

Spir. The duke yet lives, that Henry shall depose ; But him outlive, and die a violent death.

[As the Spirit speaks, SOUTHWELL oritcs the

Answer.

Baling. What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk t Spir. By water shall he die, and take his end. Baling. What shail befall the duke of Somerset' Spir. Let him shun castles : Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, Than where castles mounted stand. — Have done, for more I hardly can endure.

Doling. Descend to darkness, and the burning

lake : False fiend, avoid !

[ Thunder and Lightning. Spirit descends.

Enter YORK and BUCKINGHAM, hastily, with their Guards, and Ot/iers.

York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and their

trash.

Beidam, I think we watch'd you at an inch. — What ! madam, are you there? the king and com- monweal

* It was ancien eaotations, re reluctance.

nciently believed that spirits, who wore raised by in- •in.iiiifii above ground, and answered questions with

192 THE SECOND PART ACT I-

Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains: My lord protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdon'd 6 for these good deserts. Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's

king,

Injurious duke, that threat's! where is no cause. Buck. True, madam, none at all. What cull

you this ? [S/iowing her the Papers

Away with them ! let them be clapp'd up close, And kept asunder. — You, madam, shall with us: Stafford, take her to thee. —

[Exit the Duchess from above. We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming ; All. — Away !

[Exeunt Guards, with SOUTH., BOLING., Sfc, York. Lord Buckingham, methinks. you watch' i

her well :

A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon ! Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ. What have we here ? [Reads.] " The duke yet lives, that Henry shal

depose ;

But him outlive, and die a violent death." Why, tliis is just

A io te, jEacida, Romanos vincere posse.1 Well, to the rest :

"Tell me, what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk?' " By water shall he die, and take his end." " What shall betide the duke of Somerset ? " " Lei", him shun castles : Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains,

' Rewarded.

'• That is, " I say that you, the son of JE&cus, the Romans can conquer , " which is just like the foregoing pred:ction in that it ^an be taken either way. H.

SC IV OF HENRY VI. 193

Than where castles mounted stand."

Come, come, my lords ;

These oracles are hardily attain'd,

And hardly understood.

The king is now iu progress toward St. Alhana ;

With him the husband of this lovely lady :

Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry

them ; A sorry breakfast for my lord protector.

Buck, Your grace shall give me leave, my lord

of York, To be the post, in hope of his reward.

York. At your pleasure, my good lord. — Who'a witliin there, ho !

Enter a Servant.

Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick To sup with me to-morrow night. — Away !

[Exeunt.

ACT II.

;

SCENE I. SuAlbans.

Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, GLOSTER, the Cardinal, and SUFFOLK, with Falconers hol- laing.

Queen. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook.1 I saw not better sport these seven years' day .

1 The falconer's term for hawking- at water-fowl

11)4 THE SECOND PART ACT II

Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high ; And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out.*

King. But what a point, my lord, your falcon

made,

And what a pitch she flew above the rest ! — To see how God in all his creatures works ! Yea, man and birds are fain3 of climbing high.

Sujf. No marvel, an it like your majesty, My lord protector's hawks do tower so well They know their master loves to be aloft, And beajs his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.

Glo. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.

Card. I thought as much : he'd be above the clouds.

Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal ; how think you by

that? Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven 1

King. The treasury of everlasting joy !

Card. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and

thoughts Beat on a crown,4 the treasure of thy heart :

* Dr. Percy explains this, — "The wind was so high, it was ten to one old Joan would not have taken her flight at the game." Which is confirmed by Latham's Falconr}', 1633 : " When you shall come afterward to fly her, she must be altogether guided and governed by her stomacke ; yea she will be kepi and also lost by the same : for let her faile of that never so little, and every puff of wind will blow her away from you ; nay, if there be no uina stirring, ytt she willwheele and sinke away front him and from hit voice, that all the time before had lured and trained her up."

3 That is, fond or glad. Thus Spenser :

" And in her hand she held a mirror bright, Wherein her face she often viewed fain."

* That is, thy mind is working on a crown. So in The Tern pest i

" Do not infest your mind with beating on The strangeness of this business.1'

5C. OF HEiNRY VI. 195

Pernicious protector, dangerous peer. That smooth's! it so with king and commonweal ! Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown

peremptory ?

Tantane animis coelcstibus ira 1 Churchmen so hot ? good uncle, hide such mal- ice ; With such holiness can you do it.

Suff. No malice, sir ; no more than well be- comes

So pood a quarrel, and so bad a peer. Glo. As who, my lord ?

Suff. Why, as you, my lord ;

An't like your lordly lord-protectorship.

Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine inso- lence.

Queen. And thy ambition, Gloster. King. I pr'ythee, peace

Good queen ! and whet not on these fiiriotis peers, For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.

Card. Let me be blessed for the peace I make, Against this proud protector, with my sword!

Glo. [Aside to the Cardinal.] 'Faith, holy uncle,

'would 'twere come to that ! Card. [Aside to GLOSTER.] Marry, when thoi»

dar'st. Glo. [Aside.] Make up no factious numbers for

the matter ; In thine own person answer thy abuse.

Card. [Aside.] Ay, where thou dar'st not peep :

an if thou dar'st,

This evening, on the east side of the grove. King. How now, my lords ! Card, Believe me, cousin Gloster

Had not vour man put uj the fowl so suddenly,

19H THE SECOND PART ACT 1L

Wife Most true, forsooth ; .and many time aiui

oft

Myself have heard a voice to call him so. Card. What ! art thou lame ? Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me ! Stiff". How cam'st thou so? Simp. A fall off of a tree. Wife. A plum-tree, master. Glo. How long hast thou been blind? Simp. O ! born so, master. Glo. What ! and would'st climb a tree ! Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a

youth. Wife. Too true ; and bought his climbing very

dear. Glo. 'Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that would'st

venture so. Simp. Alas ! good master, my wife desir'd some

damsons, And made me climb with danger of my life.

Glo. A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve. — Let me see thine eyes: — wink now; — now open

them. — In my opinion yet thou seest not well.

Simp. Yes, master, clear as day; I thank God,

and St. Alban. Glo. Say'st thou me so ? What colour is tliis

cloak of?

Simp. Red, master ; red as blood. Glo. Why, that's well said : What colour is my

gown of?

Simp. Black, forsooth ; coal-black as jet. King. Why, then, thou know'st what colour jel

is of? Sujf. And yet, 1 think, jet did he never see.

SC. L OF HKNKY VI 199

Glo. But cloaks, and gowns, before this day, a many.

\Vife. Never, before this day, in all his life.

Glo. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name 7

Simp. Alas, master, I know not.

Glo. What's his name ?

Simp. I know not.

Glo. Nor his?

Simp. No, indeed, master.

Glo. What's thine own name ?

Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, natter.

Glo. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lyingest

knave

In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, Thou might'st as well have known all our names,

as thus

To name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly To nominate them all, it is impossible.7 —

7 This passage between Gloster and Simpcox is founded en » ftory told by Sir Thomas More, substantially as follows : One time, as King Henry VI. rode in progress, there came to the town of St. Albans a certain beggar, with his wife, and there was walk- ing about the town, begging, saying that he was born bl'iid, and was warned in a dream that he should come out of lierwick, where he had ever dwelt, to seek St. Alban. When the kiug waj come, and the town full of people, suddenly this blind man, at St. Aldan's shrine, had his sight ; and the same was solemnly rung for a miracle, so that nothing else was talked of in all the town. It so happened that Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, a man no less wise than well-learned, called the poor man to him, and looked well upon his eyes, and asked whether he could never see any thing in all his life before. When both himself and his wife af- firmed fastly " no," then he looked advised! v upon his eves again, •ml said, " I believe you say well, for methinkclh ye cannot see well yet." " Yes, sir," quoth he ; "1 thank God and his Imlv martyr. I can »ce now as well as any man " " Ye can ' " quoti the duke " what colour is this gowu T " Then anon the beggai

19H THE SECOND PART ACT II.

Wife Most true, forsooth ; and many time and

oft

Myself have heard a voice to call him so. Card. What ! art thou lame ? Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me ! Suff. How cam'st thou sol Simp. A fall off of a tree. Wife. A plum-tree, master. 670. How long hast thou been blind? Simp. O ! born so, master. Glo. What ! and would'st climb a tree ? Simp. But that in all my life, when I was a

youth. Wife. Too true ; and bought his climbing very

dear. Glo. 'Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that would'st

venture so. Simp. Alas ! good master, my wife desir'd some

damsons, And made me climb with danger of my life.

Glo. A subtle knave ! but yet it shall not serve. — Let me see thine eyes: — wink now; — now open

them. — In my opinion yet thou seest not well.

Si?np. Yes, master, clear as day ; I thank God,

and St. Alban. Glo. Say'st thou me so ? What colour is tliis

cloak of 7

Simp. Red, master ; red as blood. Glo. Why, that's well said : What colour is my

gown of?

Simp. Black, forsooth ; coal-black as jet. King. Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet

is of? Stiff". And yet, 1 think, jet did he never see.

5C. L OF HENRY VI 199

GIo. But cluaks, and gowns, before this day, a many.

Wife. Never, before this day, in all his life.

Glo. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name 1

Simp. Alas, master, I know not.

Glo. What's his name?

Simp. I know not.

Glo. Nor his?

Simp. No, indeed, master.

Glo. What's thine own name ?

Simp. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, •natter.

Glo. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lyingest

knave

In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, Thou might'st as well have known all our names,

as thus

To name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly To nominate them all, it is impossible.7 —

T This passage between Gloster and Simpcox is founded en • •lory told by Sir Thomas More, substantially as follows : One time, as King Henry VI. rode in progress, there came to the town of St. Alhans a certain beggar, with his wife, and there was walk- ing about the town, begging, saying that he was born bind, and wai warned in a dream thai he should come out of Kerwirk, where he had ever dwell, to seek St. Alban. When ihe kiug wai come, and the town full of people, suddenly this blind man, at St. Albac's shrine, had his sight ; and the same was solemnly rung for a miracle, so that nothing else was talked of in all the town. It so happened that Humphrey, duke of Gloucester, a man no less wise than well-learned, called the poor man to him, and looked well upon his eyes, and asked whether he could never see any thing in all his life before. When both himself and his wife af- firmed fastly " no," then he looked advisedly upon bis eyes agnin, and said, " I believe you say well, for methinkcth ye cannot see well yet." " Yes, sir," quoth he ; "1 thank God and his holy martyr, I can see now as well as any man " " Ye can T " quoti the duke •• what colour is this gown 1 " Then anon the beggai

200 THE SECOND PART ACT tl

My lords. St. Alban here Imth done a miracle ; And would ye not think that cunning to be great, That could restore this cripple to his legs again?

Simp. O, master, that you could !

Glo. My masters of St. Albans, have you not beadles in your town, and things call'd whips ?

May. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace.

Glo. Then send for one presently.

May. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.

[Exit an Attendant.

Glo. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. — [A Stool brought out.] Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool, and run away.

Simp. Alas! master, I am not able to stand alone: You go about to torture me in vain.

Re-enter Attendant, with tlie Beaflle.

Glo. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool.

Bead. I will, my lord. — Come on, sirrah; off with your double't quickly.

Simp. Alas! master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.

[After the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps over the Stool, and runs away ; and the Peo- pic follow, crying, "A Miracle ! " King. O God ! seest thou this, and bear'st so

long? Queen. It made me laugh, to see the villain run.

told him. " What colour," quoth he, " is this man's gown 7 '' He told him this also, without staying or stumbling, and so of all the colours that could be showed him. And when the duke sa» that, he had him set openly in the stocks. 11.

SC. 1. nv IIKNKY VI. '201

(Ho. Follow the knave; HIM! takr tliis drab away.

\\'if(. Alas! sir, \v«- did it for j>ure need.

Glo. Let them be wlupp'd through every market town, till they come to Berwick, from whence they caine. [Exeunt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, Sfc.

Card. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to- day.

Kujf. True ; made the lame to leap, and fly away.

Glu. But you have done more miracles than I ; You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.

Enter BUCKINGHAM.

King. What tidings with our cousin Buckingham 1 Buck. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold* A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent,8 Under the countenance and confederacy Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, The ringleader and head of all this rout, Have practis'd dangerously against your state, Dealing with witches, and with conjurers : Whom we have apprehended in the fact ; liaising up wicked spirits from under ground, Demanding of King Henry's life and death, And other of your highness' privy council, As more at large your grace shall understand.

Car. And so, my lord protector, by this means Your lady is forthcoming* yet at London.

Sort was much used for pack, or tet. So in Kichard II. Act iv. sc. 1, the king says, —

" And yet salt water blinds them not so much, Hut they can see a sort of traitors here."

— Lfirilly is wickedly, lenavishly. Sec Much Ado alxu '. Nothing Act v. sc. 1, note 25. m

• That is. your lady is in custody

202 1HK SKCOXI) PART ACT II.

This news, I tliink, hath turn'd your weapon's edge , 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.

Glo. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my

heart !

Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers \ And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee, Or to the meanest groom.

King. O God ! what mischiefs work the wicked

ones, Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby !

Queen. Gloster, see here the tainture of thy nest ; And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.

Glo. Madam, for myself, to Heaven I do appeal, How I have lov'd my king, and commonweal ; And, for my wife, I know not how it stands: Sorry I am to hear what I have heard ; Noble she is, but if she have forgot Honour and virtue, and convers'd with such As like to pitch defile nobility, I banish her my bed and company, And give her as a prey to law and shame, That hath dishonor'd Gloster's honest name.

King. Well, for this night, we will repose us

here :

To-morrow, toward London back again, To look into this business thoroughly, And call these foul offenders to their answers ; And poise the cause in justice' equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cau»e pre vails. [Flourish. Exeunt

3C. II. OF HKNRY Vi. 203

SCENE II.

London. The Duke of YORK'S Garden.

Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK.

York. Now, my good lords of Salisbury and

Warwick,

Our simple supper ended, give me leave, In this close walk, to satisfy myself, In craving your opinion of my title, Which is infallible, to England's crown. Sal. My lord, I long to hear it at full. War. Sweet York, begin ; and if thy claim be

good, The Nevilles are thy subjects to command.

York. Then thus : —

Edward the Tliird, my lords, had seven sons : The first, Edward the Black Prince, prince of

Wales;

The second, William of Hatfield ; and the third, Lionel, duke of Clarence ; next to whom Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster; The fifth was Edmund Langley, duke of York ; The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of

Gloster ;

William of Windsor was the seventh, and last. Edward, the Black Prince, died before his father, 4rid left behind him Richard, his only son ; Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd ax

king,

Till Henry Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster, The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth,

204 THE SECOND PART ACT It

Seiz'd on the realm ; depos'd the rightful king ; Sent his poor queen to France, from whence aha

came,

And liim to Pomfret; where, as all you know, Harmless Richard was murder'd traitorously.

War. Father, the duke hath told the truth: Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.

York. Which now they hold by force, and not

by right;

For Richard the first son's heir being dead, The issue of the next son should have reign'd. Sal. But William of Hatfield died without an

heir. York. The third son, duke of Clarence, from

whose line

I claim the crown, had issue — Philippe, a daughter Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of March. Edmund had issue — Roger, earl of March : Roger had issue — Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.

Sal. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown ; And but for Owen Glendower had been king, Who kept him in captivity, till he died.1 But, to the rest.

1 Here we have another troublesome piece of historical confu- sion. In 1 Henry IV., Act i. sc. 3, note 9, it was remarked that Shakespeare, following the chroniclers, bad confounded Sir Ed- mund Mortimer with the young earl of March, whose name was also Edmund Mortimer. Early in the reign of Henry IV., Sir Edmund, being sent with an army against Owen Glendower, was taicen prisoner by him, but not long after was released, married to his daughter, and joined with the Percys in their great rebellion against the king. Lord Grey of Rulhven, who had also married a daughter of Glendower, getting afterwards into a war with his father-in-law, likewise fell into his hands, and died in captivity. Here, then, we have a double confusion : In the first place. Ed- mund, earl of March, is confounded with his uncle, Sir Edmund Mortimer ; and in the second place, Sir Edmund having been

SO II. OK HKNRT VI. 2(15

Ynrk. Mis eldest .-i<trr, Anne,

My mother, beini: lieir unto the crown, Married Richard, earl of Cambridge ; who was son To Ednmnd Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom : she was heir To Roger, earl of March ; who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer ; who married Philippe, Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence : So, if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king.

War. What plain proceeding is more plain than

this?

Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son ; York claims it from the third. Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign : It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee, And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock. Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both together; And, in this private plot,* be we the first, That hhall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown.

Both. Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king !

York. We thank you, lords ! But I am not your

king

Till I be crown'd, and that my sword be stain'd With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster ;

sometime captive to his father-in-law, is confounded with Lord (irey, who was held in captivity by his father-in-law till he died. Ir. the First Part this same earl of March is represented as dying an old man in the Tower at London, where he had been detained not by Glendower, but by the king ; which discrepancy has been thought to argue that the First and Second Parts were not by the same author. For the truth of the matter as regards the rea Edmund, carl of .March, see the preceding play. Act ii sc. 6 note 1. H

* Sequestered spot.

206 THE SECOND PART ACT U

And that's not suddenly to be performed. But with advice and silent secrecy. Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days, Wink at the duke of Suffolk's insolence, At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey: 'Tis that they seek ; and they, in seeking that, Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. Sal. My lord, break we off: we know your mind

at full. War. My heart assures me, that the earl of

Warwick Shall one day make the duke of York a king.

York. And, Neville, this I do assure myself, — Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick The greatest man in England, but the king.

[Exewtt.

SCENE III. The same. A Hall of Justice

Trumpets sounded. Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, GLOSTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, and SAL- ISBURY ; the Duchess of GLOSTER, MARGERY JOURDAIN, SOUTHWELL, HUME, and BOLING- BROKE, under guard.

King. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, Glos-

ter's wife.

tu sight of God, and us, your guilt is great : Receive the sentence of the law, for sins Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death. — \To JOURD., 4*c.] You four, from hence to prison back again ;

SC. III. OF HENRF VI. 307

Prom thence, unto the place of execution . The witch in Smithfield shall be hurn'd to ashed; And you three shall he strangled on the gallows.— You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life, Shall, after three days' open penance done, Live in your country here, in banishment, With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.

Duck. Welcome is banishment ; welcome were

my death. Glo. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged

thee : I cannot justify whom the law condemns.1 —

[Exeunt the Duc/iess, and the ot/ter Prisoner$t

guarded. Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.

1 This sentence, as stated in a former note, fell upon the duchess hi November, 1441. Holinshed gives the following- account of the matter: " This yeare dame Eleanor Cobham. wife to the said duke, was accused of treason ; for that she by sorcefe and en- chantment intended to destroie the king, to the intent to advance liir husband unto the crowne. Upon this she was examined in taint Stepbans chappell before the bishop of Canterburie, and there convict and judged to doo penance in three open places within the citie of London ; and after that to perpetual! imprison- ment in the He of Man, under the keeping of sir John Stanlie knight. At the same season were arraigned and adjudged gniltie, as aiders to the dnchesse, Thomas Southwell, priest, John Hum, priest, Roger Bolingbrooke, a cunning necromancer, and Margerie Jnrdeine, surmmed the witch of Eie. The matter laid against them was, for that they, at the request of the said duchesse, had deviled an image of wax representing the king, which by their sor- cerie by little and little consumed, intending thereby to waste and de<Uroie the kings person. Margery Jordeine was burnt in Smith- 6eld, and Roger Bolinghrooke was drawne to Tiborne, and hanged, and quartered. John Hum had his pardon, and Southwell died in the Tower the night before his execution." As this crime and punishment of the duchess had much to do in bringing about her husband's fall, there wan good dramatic reason for setting it IB close connection with the latter event, though in fact the two w«>ra over five years apart. H

208 THE SKCON1) PART ACT II

All, Humphrey ! this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground I heseech your majesty, give me leave to go ; Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.*

King. Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster : ere

thou go.

Give up thy staff: Henry will to himself Protector be ; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet : And go in peace, Humphrey ; no less belov'd, Than when thou wert protector to thy king.

Queen. I see no reason, why a king of years Should be to be protected like a child. — God and King Henry govern England's helm : 3 Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm.

Glo. My staff? — here, noble Henry, is my staff; As willingly do I the same resign, As e'er thy father Henry made it mine ; And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it, As others would ambitiously receive it. Farewell, good king : When I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne ! [Exit.

Queen. Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret

queen ;

And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself, That bears so shrewd a maim ; two pulls at once, — His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off. This staff of honour raught,4 there let it stand, Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand,

* That is, " sorrow would have solace, and mine age would have ease,"

3 The criminal has realm, here, which Johnson with good reasoi changed to helm, the close similarity of the words having probablj caused realm to he repeated in the printing. H.

4 Rauflit is the ancient preterite of the verb rvur./i Here and wherever Shakespeare uses it, it means reached satairtf*

SC. III. OF HENRY VI. 209

Suff". Thus droops this lofty pine, and hanga Ids

sprays ;

Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days York. Lords, let him go.* — Please it your ma- jesty,

This is the day appointed for the combat ; And ready are the appellant and defendant, The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, So please your highness to behold the fight.

Queen. Ay, good my lord ; for purposely there- fore Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.

King. O' God's name, see the lists and all things

fit: Here let them end it, and God defend the right !

York. I never saw a fellow worse bestead, Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, The servant of tliis armourer, my lords.

Enter, on one Side, HORNER, and his Neighbour*, drmkmg to him so much that he is drunk ; and he enters bearing his Staff" with a Sand-Bag fastened to it ; 7 a Drum before him : at the other Side, PETER, icith a Drum and a similar Staff"; accom- panied by Prentices drinking to him.

1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Homer, 1 drink to you

unto. This passage nas been absurdly pointed in the late editions. Tin- punctuation of the first folio, which is here followed, need not have been disturbed.

* Her in this line relates to pride, and not to Eleanor.

• That is, lot him pass out of your thoughts. Duke Humphrey had already left the stage.

As. according to the old law of duels, knights were to fight with the lance and the sword, so those of inferior rank fought with an ebon staff, or batoon, to the farther end of which vr*i fixed • bag crammed hard with sand. Duller has alluded lo this custcn ia lludibras: —

210 THE SECOND PART ACT II

in a cup of sack : and fear nut, neighbour ; you shall do well enough.

2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a cup oi charneco.8

3 Neigh. And here's a pot of good double beer neighbour : drink, and fear not your man.

Hor. Let it come, i'faith, and I'll pledge you all ; and a fig for Peter !

1 Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee ; and be not afraid.

2 Pren. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy mas- ter : fight for credit of the prentices.

Peter. I thank you all : drink, and pray for me, I pray you ; for I think I have taken my last draught in this world. — Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron ; and, Will, thou shall have my hammer :

— and here, Tom, take all the money that I have.

— O Lord, bless me! I pray God, for I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already.

Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows.

— Sirrah, what's thy name? Peter. Peter, forsooth. Sal. Peter ! what more ?

" Engaged with money bags, as bold As men with sand bags did of old."

The practice must have been of great antiquity, being mentioned by St. Chrysosiom.

8 Charneco appears to have been a kind of sweet wine. War- burton imagines lhat it may have had its name from chm-nfca, the Spanish name for a species of turpentine tree ; but Steevens says Charneco is the name of a village in Portugal where this wine was made. It is frequently mentioned by old writers. Thus in Wit'* Miserie, or the World's Madness, 1596, it is said that " three cup:, of charneco fasting is the only medicine for the fleghm." And in the Puritan, a comedy : " Come, my inestimable Sullies, we'll talk of your noble acts in sparkling charneco."

SC. III. Or HENRY VI. 211

Peter. Thump.

Sal. Thump ! then see thou thump thy master well.

Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and my- self an honest man : and toucliing the duke of York, I will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen : And therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow, as Devis uf Southampton fell upon Ascapart.8

York. Despatch: — this knave's tongue begins to

double. Sound, trumpets, alarum t. the combatants.

[Alarum. Theyjlght, and PETER strike* down his Master.

Hor. Hold, Peter, hold ! I confess, I confess treason.10 [Dies.

* This allusion to Bevi* and Ascapart was added from ilie quarto by Warburton. It seems doubtful whether it ought to lie retained; — doubtful, not for any thing in itself, but because the author saw fit, apparently, to revise it out. The reason of our keeping it is thus given by Knight : " The allusions in our old poets to the older romances form a chain of traditionary literature, of which it is not pleasant to lose a single link." In legendary lore Sir Bevis was a most famous knight, who won bis chief hon- our by conquering the mightiest of giants, named Ascapart. The knight and the giant are still, or were at the latest accounts, stand- ing on the gates of Southampton, done in marble. A very ancient description of the giant has been thus modernized by Ellu :

*• This giant was mighty and strong, And full thirty feet was long. • He was bristled like a sow ; A foot be had between each brow ; His lips were great and hung aside ; His even were hollow, his mouth was wide { Lotbly he was to look on than, And liker a devil than a man : His staff was a young oak, — Hard and heavy was his stroke." H

w This odd affair of I'eter and Ilorner is founded ot u ioei

212 THE SECOND PART ACT IL

York. Take away his weapon. — Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in thy master's way.

Peter. O God ! have I overcome mine enemies in this presence 1 O Peter ! thou hast prevail'd in right.

King. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight ; For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt:" And God in justice hath reveal'd to us The trutli and innocence of this poor fellow, Which he had thought to have murder'd wrong- fully.— Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt.

dent (old by Holinshed. It will be seen that Shakespeare inno- vated upon the story, in making- Homer " confess treason." '• In the same yeare also," (144(5,) " a certaine armourer was appeached of treason by a servant of his owne. For proofe whereof a daie was given them to fight in Smithfield, insomuch that in conflict the said armourer was overcome and slaine ; but yet by misgovern- ing of himselle. For on the morrow, when he should come to the field fresh and fasting, his neighbours came to him. and gave him wine and strong drink in such excessive sort, that he was there- with distempered, and reeled as he went, and so was slaine with- out guilt. As for the false servant, he lived not long unpunished ; for being convict of felonie in court of assise, he was judged lo be hanged, and so was, at Tiburne." H.

11 The real names of the combatants were John Daveys and William Catour. The names of the sheriffs were Godfrey Bo- logne and Robert Home; the latter, which occurs in the page of Fabian's Chronicle, may have suggested the name of Homer The precept to the sheriffs, commanding them lo prepare the bar riers in Smill.field, with the account of expenses incurred, is among the records of the exchequer, and has been printed in Mr. Xicholls's Illustrations of the Manners and Expenses of Antieiu Times in England, quarto, 1797. It appears that the erection of the bar- riers, the combat itself, and the subsequent execution of the ar- mourer, occupied the space of six or seven days ; that a large quantity of sand and gravel was consumed on the occasion, an that the place of battle ws\s strewed with rushes.

sc. iv. or HENRY vi. 213

SCENE IV. The same. A Street.

Enter GLOSTER and Servants, in mourning Cloaks.

Glo. Thus, sometimes hath the brightest day a

cloud ;

And after summer evermore succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold : So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet. — Sirs, what's o'clock?

Serv. Ten, my lord.

Glo. Ten is the hour that was appointed me. To watch the coining of my punish'd duchess : Uneath ' may she endure the flinty streets, To trend them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people, gazing on thy face With envious* looks, still laughing at thy shame , That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels, When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets But, soft ! I think, she comes ; and I'll prepare My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.

Enter the Duchess of GLOSTER, in a white Sheet, with Papers pinned upon her Back, her Feet bare, and a Taper burning in her Hand; Sir JOHN STAN- LEY, a Sheriff, and Officers.

Serv. So please your grace, we'll take her from

the sheriff. Glo. No, stir not, for your lives : let her pass by

1 That is, hardly, or not easily ; from un and eath. tote. R.

* Eni-y was much used of old in the sens* of malice. See Thfl Merchant of Venice, Act iv. sc. 1, note 1. — Still, in this line, waj first supplied in the folio of 1632. Perhaps it may be justly sa'd to mead the metre at the expense of the sense. u

214 THE SECOND PART ACT It

Dncli. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame ? Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze ' See, how the giddy multitude do point, And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee ! Ah, Gloster ! hide thee from their hateful looks ; And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, And ban 3 thine enemies, both mine and thine.

Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell: forget this grief.

Duch. Ah, Gloster! teach me to forget myself; For, whilst I think I am thy married wife, And thou a prince, protector of this land, Methinks, I should not thus be led along, Mail'd up in shame,4 with papers on my back, Arid follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet* groans The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ; And when I start the envious people laugh, Arid bid me be advised6 how I tread. Ah, Humphrey ! can I bear this shameful yoke ? Trow'st thou, that ere I'll look upon the world, Or count them happy that enjoy the sun? No ; dark shall be my light, and night my day : To think upon my pomp shall be my hell. Sometime I'll say I am Duke Humphrey's wife, And he a prince, and ruler of the land ; Vet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,

3 To ban is to curse, or execrate.

4 That is, wrapped or bundled up in disgrace, referring, of course, to the sheet of penance. Thus Randell Holme : "Mail a hawk is to wrap her up in a handkerchief or other cloath, that she may not be able to stir her wings or struggle. " And in Drayton ; Epistle of Eleanor Cobham to Duke Humphrey:

" Should after see me mayld up in a sheet, Doe shameful penance three times in the street.*'

Bee, also, Love's Labour's Lost, Act iii. sc. 1, note 10. H.

* Deep-fetched.

* That is, careful, circumspect.

;«C. IV OF HENR7 VI. 215

As lie stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess,

Was made ;i wonder, and a pointing-stock,

To every idle rascal follower.

Hut be thou mild, and blush not at my shame ;

Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death

Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will.

For Suffolk, — he that can do all in all

With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all, —

And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest,

Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings ;

And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee.7

But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd,

Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.*

Glo. Ah, Nell ! forbear ; thou aimest all awry : 1 must offend before I be attainted ;

1 See Act i. sc. 3, note 6.

' The thirty-one lines of this speech are an expansion, but scarcx ai improvement of twenty-three in the quarto :

u Ah, Gloster ! teach me to forget myself; For, whilst I think I am thy wedded wife, The thought of this dolh kill my woful heart The ruthless flints do cut my tender feet, And when I start the cruel people laugh. And bid me be advised bow 1 tread ; And thus, with burning taper in my hand, Mnil'd up in shame, with papers on my back, Ah, Gloster! ran I endure this and live? Sometime I'll say I am Duke Humphrey's wife, And he a prince, protector of the land} Hut so he rul'd, and such a prince he was, As he stood by, whilst I, bis forlorn duchess, Was led with shame, and made a laughing-stock To every idle rascal follower. — Be thou mild, and stir not at my disgrace, Until the axe of death hang o'er thy head, As, sure, it shortly will. For Suffolk, be, — The new-made duke, that may do all in all With her that loves him so. and hates us all, And impious York, and Beaufort, that false priest, Have ail lim'd bushes to betray thy wings, And, l!\ thou Inm ilmu ca;i>t, they will untangle thee.'

21(5 THE SECOND PART ACT II

And had I twenty times so many foes,

And each of them had twenty times their power,

All these could not procure me atiy scath,9

So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.

Would'st have me rescue thee from this reproach

Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,

But I in danger for the breach of law.

Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell :

I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience ;

These few days' wonder will be quickly worn.

Enter a Herald*,

Her. I summon your grace to his majesty's par- liament, holden at Bury the first of this next month.

Glo. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before 1 This is close dealing. — Well, I will be there.

[Exit HcraM.

My Nell, I take my leave: — and, master sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the king's commission.

Sher. An't please your grace, here my commis- sion stays ;

And Sir John Stanley is appointed now To take her with him to the Isle of Man.

Glo. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here 7

Stan. So am I given in charge, may't please your grace.

Glo. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray You use her well : the world may laugh again ; lo And I may live to do you kindness, if You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell.

Duch. What ! gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell 1

9 Scath is harm, mischief, used by all our ancient writers. The word is still in use in Scotland.

10 That is, tbe world may look again favourably oil me.

SC. IV OF HENRY VI. 217

Glo Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. [Exntnt GLOSTER and Servants.

Duch. Art thou gone too? All comfort go with

thee !

For none abides with me: my joy is — death; Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard, Because I wish'd this world's eternity. — Stanley, I pr'ythee, go, and take me hence ; I care not whither, for I beg no favour, Only convey me where thou art commanded.

Stem. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Mail, There to be us'd according to your state.

Duch. That's had enough, for I am but reproach; And shall I, then, be us'd reproachfully?

Stan. Like to a duche«s, ind Duke Humphrey'!

lady: According to that state you shall be us'd.

Duch. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare , Although thou hast been conduct " of my shame !

Shfr. It is my office ; and, madam, pardon me.

Duch. Ay, ay, farewell : thy office is discharg'd. — Come, Stanley, shall we go?

Stan. Madam, your penance done, throw off thii

sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey.

Duch. My shame will not be shifted with rny

sheet :

No ; it will hang upon my richest robes, And show itself, attire me how I can. Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison.1*

[Ezcunt.

11 For conductor.

11 This impatience of a high spirit is very natural. It is not so dreadful •<> be imprisoned as it is desirable in a itate of disgrace to be sheltered from the scorn of gazers.

THE SECOND PART ACT 111

ACT III.

SCENE I. The Abbey at Bury.

A Sennet. Enter to the Parliament, King HENUT, Queen MARGARET, Cardinal BEAUFORT, SUFFOLK, YORK, BUCKINGHAM, and Others.

King. I muse, my lord of Gloster is not come ; 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.

Queen. Can you not see 1 or will you not observe The strangeness of his alter'd countenance? With what a majesty he bears himself? How insolent of late he is become, How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself? We know the time since he was mild and affable ; And, if we did but glance a far-off look. Immediately he was upon his knee, That all the court admir'd him for submission : But meet him now, and, be it in the morn, When every one will give the time of day, He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye, And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, Disdaining duty that to us belongs. Small curs are not regarded, when they grin, But great men tremble, when the lion roars ; And Humphrey is no little man in England. First, note, that he is near you in descent, And should you fall, he is the next will mount. Me seemeth, then, it is no policy, — Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears, And his advantage following your decease, — That he should ct;me about your royal person,

Si:. [. OF IIKNKY VI. 219

Or lie admitted to your holiness' council.

I'.v (lattery hath he won the commons' hearts,

And, when he please to make commotion,

"1 is to be fear'd, they all will follow him.

Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted

Suffer them now, aiiH they'll o'ergrow the garden,

And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.

The reverent care I bear unto my lord

Made me collect these dangers in the duke.

If it be fond,1 call it a woman's fear ;

Which fear if better reasons can supplant,

1 will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the duke.

My lord of Suffolk, — Buckingham, and York,—

Reprove my allegation, if you can ;

Or else conclude my words effectual.*

Suff. Well hath your highness seen into thii

duke ;

And, had I first been put to speak my mind, I think I should have told your grace's tale.* The duchess by his subornation, Upon my life, began her devilish practices : Or if he were not privy to those faults, Yet, by reputing of his high descent/ As next the king he was successive heir, And such high vaunts of his nobility, Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess,

1 Fond was continually used for_/bo/i»/i, trfat.

* Malone marked every line of this speech as alten-d from the quarto. In fart it is just half as long there as it is here. 11.

' Suffolk uses highnfts and grace promiscuously to the qtieeft. rSmilen says that nwjttty camo into use in the rei^u of King Henry the Hiifhili, ns t.icrfd majrsty lately, in our memory- Sel- len says that this nui-i Se understood so far as it relates to the tie being " commonly in use, :m<l properly l<> tin- kmir applied,' oecause he adduces an instance of the use of maj'sty M car)/ aJ the reign of Henry the Sci-i.nil.

4 That is, valuing himself on bis high descent.

220 THE SECOND PART ACT III

By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep ; And in his simple show he harbours treason. The fox barks not, when he would steal the Iamb No, no, my sovereign ; Gloster is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.

Card. Did he not, contrary to form of law, Devise strange deaths for small offences done? York. And did he not, in his protectorship, Levy great sums of money through the realm, For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it? By means whereof, the towns each day revolted. Buck. Tut ! these are petty faults to faults un- known, Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke

Humphrey. King. My lords, at once : The care you have

of us,

To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, Is worthy praise; but shall I speak my conscience 1 Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent From meaning treason to our royal person, As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove. The duke is virtuous, mild, and too well-given, To dream on evil, or to work my downfall.

Queen. Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond

affiance !

Seems he a dove ? his feathers are but borrow'd, For he's disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb ? his skin is surely lent him, For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf. Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit? Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.

9C. L OT HE.VRY VI. 221

Enter SOMERSET.

Son. All health unto my gracious sovereign ! King. Welcome, lord Somerset. What ne\n

from France ? *

Sam. That all your interest in those territories It utterly bereft you : all is lost.

King. Cold news, lord Somerset : But God's will

be done ! York. [Aside.] Cold news for me ; for I had hope

of France,

As firmly as I hope for fertile England.' Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, And caterpillars eat my leaves away; But I will remedy this gear7 ere along, Or sell my title for a glorious grave.

Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. All happiness unto my lord the king ! Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so long.

Sujf. Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too

soon,

Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art : I do arrest thee of high treason here.

Glo. Well, Suffolk, yet8 thou shall not see me blush,

• Here, again, the Poet anticipates. The parliament at Bury was opened February 10, 1447. On the 23th of the same month Gloster was found dead. Somerset's return from France was not ti.l September, 1450 ; in fact, be did not enter upon the regency till after this parliament. H.

• These two lines York had spoken before in the first act of this play. He is now meditating on this disappointment, and comparing his former hopes with his present loss.

7 For this use of gear see Act i.sc. 4, note 2.

8 This is the reading of the second folio. The first folio readi ' Well, Suffolk, thou," &c. Maloue read? » Well, Suffolk's ilnke ' dee., from the quarto

•-J22 THE SECOND PART ACT !«,

Nor change my countenance for this arrest : A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. The purest spring is not so free from mud, As 1 am clear from treason to my sovereign : Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty?

York. 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes

of France,

And, being protector, stay'd the soldiers' pay ; Uy means whereof, his highness hath lost France.

Glo. Is it but thought so ? What are they that

think it?

I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay, Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. So help me God, as I have watch'd the night, Ay, night by night, in studying good for England ! That doit that e'er I wrested from the king, Or any groat I hoarded to my use, Be brought against me at my trial day ! No ! many a pound of mine own proper store, Because I would not tax the needy commons, Have I dispursed to the garrisons, And never ask'd for restitution.

Card. It serves you well, my lord, to say su much.

Glo. I say no more than truth, so help me God

York. In your protectorship, you did devise Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, That England was defam'd by tyranny.

Glo. Why, 'tis well known, that whiles I was

protector,

Pity was all the fault that was in me : For I should melt at an offender's tears, And lowly words were ransom for their fault. Unless it were a bloody murderer, Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers

JUI. i OF HENRY VI. 223

1 never gave them condign punishment: Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd Above the felon, or what trespass else.

Suff. My lord, these faults are easy, quickly an

swer'd ;

But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, Whereof you cannot easily purge yourself. I do arrest you in his highness' name ; And here commit you to my lord cardinal To keep, until your further time of trial.

King. My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope, That you will clear yourself from all suspects:* My conscience tells me you are innocent.

(jtlu. Ah, gracious lord ! these days are danger

ous :

Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition, And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand ; Foul subornation is predominant, And equity exil'd your highness' land. I know their complot is to have my life; And, if my death might make this island happy, And prove the period of their tyranny, I would expend it with all willingness: But mine is made the prologue to their play ; For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice. And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate ; Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue Th . envious load that lies upon his heart ; And dojrjred York, that reaches at the moon, Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back,

' The original bus ttupenre here, which Si«*v«n§ changed u mtpects H.

224 THE SECOND PART ACT III

By f;ilse accuse 10 doth level at my life And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, Causeless have laid disgraces on my head ; And with your best endeavour have stirr'd up My liefest " liege to be mine enemy. Ay, all of you have laid your heads together. — Myself had notice of your conventicles, - And all to make away my guiltless life.18 I shall not want false witness to condemn me, Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt The ancient proverb will be well effected,13 — A staff is quickly found to beat a dog.

10 For accusation.

11 Liefest is dearest. See Act i. sc. t, note 2.

12 This line was omitted, accidentally no doubt, in Malone's iShakespeare by Boswell. From thence the omission has been derived into many modern editions, and, among others, into Sing er's and Knight's. The merit of the restoration belongs lo Mr Collier. For another like omission, see The Taming of the Shrew; Act iv. sc. 3, note 1. H.

13 That is, well carried into effect, or, as it is in the quarto, per form'd. Modern editors generally have changed effected into af- fected, out of which it seems not easy to gather any congruent meaning. — Perhaps this speech as it stands in the quarto will further a right judgment as to the original authorship of the play

" An, gracious Henry ! these days are dangerous i And would my death might end these miseries, And stay their moods for good King Henry's sake But I am made the prologue to their play, And thousands more must fallow after me, That dread not yet their lives' destruction. Suffolk's hateful tongue blabs his heart's malice ; Bt aufort's fiery eyes show his envious mind ; Buckingham's proud looks bewray his cruel thoughts ; And dogged York, that levels at the moon, Whose overweening arm I have held back ; All you have joined to betray me thus : And you, my gracious lady and sovereign mistress, Causeless have laid complaints upon my head. 1 shall not want false witnesses enough, That so, amongst you, you may have my life. The proverb no doubt will be perfbrm'd, — A staff is quickly found to beat a clog." •>

SC. I. OF I1KNRY V . 225

Card. My liege, his railing is intolerable : If those that care to keep your royal person From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage, Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, And the offender granted scope of speech, 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace.

Siiff Hath lie not twit our sovereign lady here With ignominious words, though clerkly couch'di As if she had suborned some to swear False allegations to o'erthrow his state?

Queen. But I can give the loser leave to chide.

Glo. Far truer spoke than meant ; I lose in- deed :

Beshrew the winners, for they play'd me false ! And well such losers may have leave to speak.

Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us here all

day. — Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner.

Card. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard liim sure.

tfio. Ah ! thus King Henry throws away his

crutch,

Before his legs be firm to bear lu's body : Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. Ah, that my fear were false ! ah, that it were ! For, good King Henry, thy decay I fear.14

[Exeunt Attendants, with CLUSTER.

14 This was most likely suggested by the following from Holin- shi-d : " OfUimes it hapneth that a man, in quenching of smoke, burnt tli his fingers in the fire: so the queene, in casting how to keepc hir husband in honor, and hirselfe in authoritie, in making awaie of this noble man brought that to passe which she had most cause to have feared ; which was the deposing of hir husband, and (he decaie of the house of Lancaster, which of likelihood linil not chanced, if this duke had lived." u.

220 THE SECOND PART ACT 111

King. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemet'\

best, Do, or undo, as if ourself were here.

Queen. What ! will your highness leave the par liainent 1

King. Ay, Margaret ; my heart is drown 'd with

grief,

Whose flood hegins to flow within mine eyes ; My body round engirt with misery ; For what's more miserable than discontent? — Ah, uncle Humphrey ! in thy face I see The map of honour, truth, and loyalty ; And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come, That e'er I prov'd thee false, or fear'd thy faith. What lowering star now envies thy estate, That these great lords, and Margaret our queen, Do seek subversion of thy harmless life ? Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wron£ . And as the butcher takes away the calf, And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ; Even so, remorseless, have they borne him hence And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do nought but wail her darling's loss ; Even so myself bewails good Gloster's case, With sad unhelpful tears ; and with dimm'd eyes Look after him, and cannot do him good, So mighty are his vowed enemies. His fortunes I will weep, and, 'twixt each groan, Say — "Who's a traitor 7 Glosterheisnone." [Ent.

Queen. Free lords,15 cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams.

15 Warburton thinks that by "free lords " Margaret meant ''you who are not hound up to such precise regards of religion

EC. I. OF HENRY VI. 227

Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, Too lull of foolish jiity ; and Cluster's show Beguiles him, as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers; Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank, With shining checker'd slough, doth sting a child, That for the beauty thinks it excellent. Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I, (And yet herein I judge mine own wit good,) This Gloster should be quickly rid the world, To rid us from the fear we have of him.

Card. That he should die is worthy policy, But yet we want a colour for his death : Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law.

Suff. But, in my mind, that were no policy : The king will labour still to save his life ; The commons haply rise to save liis life ; And yet we have but trivial argument, More than mistrust, that shows liim worthy death.

York. So that, by this, you would not have him die.

Suff. Ah, York ! no man alive so fain as 1.

York. 'Tis York that hath more reason for lua

death.18 — But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suffolk, —

•s is (lie king1; but are men of the world, and know how to live." It was shown, in The Winter's Tale, Act ii. sc. 3, note 3, and in Twelfth Night, Act ii. sc. 4, note 3, that free meant pure, clvute, and consequently rirtitoits. This may be the mean;ng here ; un- less the reader would rather believe that it means free-born, nobl'. which was the sense of its Saxon original.

16 York had more reason for desiring1 Humphrey's death, he cause he stood between him and (he crown, which be had pro posed to himself in his ambitious views. Thus in a future p;n sage he says, —

" For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart, the next for we."

THE SfcCUND PART ACT Hi

Say as you tliink, and speak it from your souls, —

Were't not all one, an empty eagle were set

To guard the chicken from a hungry kite,

4s place Duke Humphrey for the king's protector!

Queen. So the poor chicken should be sure of death.

Suff. Madam, 'tis true : And were't not madness

then,

To make the fox surveyor of the fold 1 Who being accus'd a crafty murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over, Because his purpose is not executed. No ; let him die, in that he is a fox, By nature prov'd an enemy to the nock, Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood; As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege.17 And do not stand on quillets how to slay him Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty, Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead ; for that is good deceit Wliich mates 18 him first, that first intends deceit.

17 That is, " as Humphrey is prov'd by reasons to be an enemj to my liege." H.

18 To mate or amate was often used in the sense of destroy Confound, or overcome. See Macbeth, Act v. sc. 1, note 4. Mi Dyce, however, says, — " I incline to believe that Percy was right when he observed that males is used here with an allusion to chess- playing. Palsgrave, in his Lesclarrissement, 1530, gives not only < I mate or over ome, le amatle,' but also • I mate at the chesses le matte.' Ana in Sir John Harrington's Orlando Furioso we have both amated in the sense of cc ifouiided, auu mated with an illusion to chess.

« The wound was great, but yet did greater sl.ow ; Which sight faire Isabella much amated : The Prince, that seemed not the same to know, With force increased rather than abated, Upon the Pagans brow gave such a blow As would, no doubt, have madp him checkt and mated, Save that, as I to you before rehearst, His armour was not easie to be pierst." H.

BC L OK HENRY VI. 229

Queen. Tlirice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke

Kujf. Not resolute, except so much were done ; For things are often spoke, and seldom meant : But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue, — Seeing the deed is meritorious, Arid to preserve my sovereign from his foe, — Say but the word, and I will be his priest."

Card, But I would have him dead, my lord of

Suffolk,

Ere you can take due orders for a priest. Say, you consent, and censure *° well the deed, And I'll provide his executioner, I tender so the safety of my liege.

Stiff. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing.

Queen. And so say 1.

York. And I : and now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly*1 who impugns our doom.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To signify that rebels there are up, And put the Englishmen unto the sword. Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betime, Before the wound do grow incurable ; For, being green, there is great hope of help.

Card. A breach, that craves a quick expedient

stop ! What counsel give you in this weighty cause?

York. That Somerset be sent as regent thither:

'• That is, " I will be the attendant on his last scene ; I will be the last man whom he shall see."

10 That is, judge or think well of it.

11 That is, it matter* not, or rignifie* not ; a frequent use of tlnlls in the old writers. See The Taming of the Shrew, Act iii •c. 2, note 11. H.

230 THE SECOND PART ACT m

'Tis meet, that lucky ruler be employ'd ; Witness the fortune he hath had in France.

Som. If York, with all his far-fet22 policy, Had been the regent there instead of me, He never would have stay'd in France so long.

York. No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done [ rather would have lost my life betimes, Than bring a burden of dishonour home, By staying there so long, till all were lost. Show me one scar character'd on thy skin : Men's flesh preserv'd so whole do seldom win.

Queen. Nay, then, this spark will prove a raging

fire,

If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with. — No more, good York; — sweet Somerset, be still: — Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, Might happily have prov'd far worse than his.

York. What! worse than nought? nay, then n shame take all !

Som. And, in the number, thee, that wishes! shame !

Card. My lord of York, try what your fortune is. The uncivil kernes of Ireland are in arms, And temper clay with blood of Englishmen : To Ireland will you lead a band of men, Collected choicely, from each county some, And try your hap against the Irishmen?

York. I will, my lord, so please his majesty.

Suff. Why, our authority is his consent ; And what we do establish he confirms : Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand.

York. I am content : Provide me soldiers, lords Whiles I tnke order for mine own affairs.

«» Far-fetched,

3C. !. OF HENIIY VI. 231

Suff. A charge, lord York, that I will see per

form'd. But now return we to the false Duke Humphrey.

Card. No more of him ; for I will deal with him, That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more. And so break off: the day is almost spent : Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event.

York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days. At Bristol I expect my soldiers ; For there I'll ship them all for Ireland.**

f9uf. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York.

[Exeunt all but YORK.

York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearfo'

thoughts,

And change misdoubt to resolution : Be that thou hop'st to be, or what thou art Resign to death ; it is not worth the enjoying. Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man,

** York is here represented as just going to Ho what he has before been spoken of as having already done. See Art i. sc. 1, note 10. Holinshed, relating the events that fell out soon after the parliament at Bury, has the following : " About the same time also began a new rebellion in Ireland ; but Rirhard, duke of Yorke. being sent thilher to appease the same, so asswaged the furie of the wild and savage people there, that he wan him such favour amongst them, as could never be separated from him anH his linage." While York was thus winning in Ireland, Somerset was losing all in France. In reference to which losses, the same chronicler states that " sir David Hall with diverse of his trnstie fri-riids departed to Chierburgh, and from thence sailed into Ire land to the duke of Yorke, making relation to him of all these dooings ; which thin£ kindled so great rancour in the dukes heart •nd stomach, that he never left persecuting the duke of Summer- set, until he had brought him to his fatal end and confus'on." It was during his stay in Ireland that York first gathered about him an army and formed it to bis purpose ; and it was upon the knowledge of bis having landed in England with that army headed against the king, that Somerset hastened over from France to thwart him. This was the return of Somerset mentioned in note £ of this

H

J32 THE SECOND PART ACT III

And find no harbour in a royal heart.

Faster than spring-time showers comes thought on

thought,

And not a thought but thinks on dignity. My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. Well, nobles, well ; 'tis politicly done, To send me packing with an host of men : I fear me, you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherish'd in your br easts, will sting your hearts 'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me ; I take it kindly ; yet, be well assur'd, You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, I will stir up in England some black storm, Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven, or hell ; And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage Until the golden circuit on my head, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.24 And, for a minister of my intent, I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of Ashford, To make commotion, as full well he can, Under the title of John Mortimer. In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a troop of kernes ; " And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts Were almost like a sharp-quilled porcupine : And in the end being: rescu'd, I have seen

84 f^fiaio is a violent gust of wind.

** Kernes were Irish peasantry, who served as light armed fox* soldiers. For some account of them see Macbeth, Act i. sc. 5 note 2 ; Richard II. .Act ii. sc. l,note 15; and Henry V.. Ae> iii »c. 7, note 2.

M-. I. OF HENRY VI. 233

Him caper upright like a wild Monsco,**

Sliakinjr the bloody darts, as he his bells.

Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kerne,

Math he conversed with the enemy,

And undiscover'd come to me again,

And given me notice of their villainies.

This devil l>ere shall be my substitute ;

For that John Mortimer, wliich now is dead,

fu face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble :

Ry tliis I shall perceive the commons' mind,

How they affect the house and claim of York.

Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured ;

I know, no p:iin they can inflict upon him

Will make him say I mov'd bun to those arms.

S;\y, that he thrive, as 'tis great like he will,

Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength,

And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd ;

For, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be,

And Henry put apart, the next for me.s: [Exit

** A dancer in a morris dance, originally, perhaps, meant to imitate a Moorish dance, and thence uanied. The bells sufficiently indicate that the English morris dancer is intended. It appears from Blount's filossojjraphy. and some of our old writers, that the dance itself was called a morisco. Florio, in the first edition of his Italian Dictionary, defines " Moresca, a kind of moriec or au- tique dance, after the Moorish or Ethiopian fashion.''

t7 There is no proof that York was any way privy to the in- surrection of Cade, save that it fell out very opportune to his pur [><>se, and those engaged in it were generally favourable to his claim : for which cause he was naturally suspected to have set ix on fool ; and that suspicion, ripened into belief, \vas no doubt handed down to the Poet's lime in the bundle of " Lancastrian prejudices." Tbis speech of York's, however, makes a coital point in the dram*, as it represents him to have been the ron-cioiu designer as in faot he was to a great extent the real occasion, of the following events ; and it was plainly more dramatic to set him forth as the maker of eimHBStanca than as merely the u-er af them. In the quarto ihis speech has but twenty-live lines, which are here rattier coiiMilidated than expanded intc li'iv- three K

234 THE SECOND PART ACT II

SCENE II. Bury. A Room in the Palace.

Enter certain Murderers, hastily.

1 Mur. Run to rny lord of Suffolk : let him know We have despatch'd the duke, as he commanded.

2 Mur. O, that it were to do ! — What have we

done 1 Didst ever hear a man so penitent 1

Enter SUFFOLK.

I Mur. Here comes my lord.

Sujf. Now, sirs, have you despatch'd tliis thing?

1 Mur. Ay, my good lord, he's dead.

Sujf. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my

house :

1 will reward you for this venturous deed. The king and all the peers are here at hand : — Have you laid fair the bed? are all things well, According as I gave directions?

I Mur. 'Tis, my good lord.

Sujf. Away, be gone ! ' [Exeunt Murderers

1 The common belief of the people, and the no less common report of the chroniclers was, that the duke of Gloster was mur- dered, by procurement of the queen, Suffolk, and Somerset : which would doubtless have justified the Pool's representation, even if be had known the truth to be otherwise ; for the very fact of surfc a belief proves, in some sort, that the thing believed was consonant to the spirit of the time. The strongest argument in the question is derived from Whelhamstede, abbot of St. A (bans and is strongly stated by Lingard, thus : " That writer, who haa received many benefits from the duke, was much attached to his memory, which he vindicates on all occasions, and equally prejudiced against his enemies, whom he calls canes, scorpiones, impii siisurrones. And yet, though he wrote when the royal party was humbled in the dust, and he had of course nothing to fear from their resentment, he repeatedly asserts that the duke fell ill immediately after his arrest, and died of his illness. ' fecit eum arrestari, ponique in

SO. II. OF HF.NKV VI. 235

Ilntt-r King HKNKY, Quern MAROAUKT, Cardinal

BEAUFORT, SOMERSKT, Lords, and Of/an. King. Go, call our uncle to our presence straight Say, we intend to try his grace to-day, If he be guilty, as 'tis published.

Sttff". I'll call him presently, my noble lord. [.Exit King. Lords, take your places : — And, I pray

you all,

Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster, Than from true evidence, of good esteem, He be approv'd in practice culpable.

Queen. God forbid any malice should prevail, That faultless may condemn a noble man ! Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion !

King. I thank thee, Margaret ; these words con- tent me much. —

Re-enter SUFFOLK.

How now ! why look'st thou pale 1 why tremblest

thou ?

Where is our uncle ? what is the matter, Suffolk ? Stiff. Dead in his bed, my lord ; Gloster is dead. Queen. Marry, God forefend ! CanL God's secret judgment ! — I did dream Jo- night,

The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word.

[ The King swoons.

UJT. arta custodia, quod prae trislitia decideret in lectum spgritu- dir.is. et infra paucos dies posterius ?eccderet in fata.' " He was arrested on the second day of the parliament at Bury, and seven- teen days after was found dead in his hod. Holinshed gives tbii character of him : " He was an upright and politike governour, bending all his indevours to the advancement of the common- wealth ; verie loving to the poore commons, and so beloved of them againe ; learned, » ise. full of couriesic, void of pride mil! uobitiun, ju where it is most commendable." H

23G THE SECOND PART ACT til

Queen. How fares my lord?- Help, lords \ the king is dead.

Som. Rear up his body : wring him by the nose.

Queen. Run, go, help, help! — O, Henry, ope thine eyes !

Stiff. He doth revive again : — Madam, be pa • tient.

King. O, heavenly God !

Queen. How fares my gracious lord?

Suff. Comfort, my sovereign ! gracious Henry comfort !

King. What ! doth my lord of Suffolk comfort

me?

Came he right now to sing a raven's note, Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers ; And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast, Can chase away the first-conceived sound ? Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words : Lay not thy hands on me ; forbear, I say ; Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting. Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight ! Upon thy eyeballs murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding. — Vet do not go away : — Come, basilisk,2

* The basilisk, from fiaaiiiaxof, is so called, says Richardson " either because it hath on its head something white like a dia dem, or because all other kinds of serpents flee from its superior strength." Thus in Holland's Pliny : " The like propertif hath the serpent called a basilislce : — a white spot or starre it carricth on the head, and setteth it out like a coronet or diadem." Tin old notion touching this serpent is shown by Chaucer in The Per sones Tale : " That sleth right as the Basilicok sleth folk by veo me of his sight." So in Albion's England ;

" That did with easy sight enforce a basilisk to flic, Albeit naturally that beast doth murther with the eye

SC. II. OF HENRT VI 231

And kill tlie innocent gazer with thy

Fur in tlu> shad*- of death I shall find joy;

In life, hut double death, now Oloster's dead.

Queen. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk

thus ?

Although the duke was enemy to him, Yt't he, most Christian-like, laments his death : And for myself, foe as he was to me, Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose, with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the noble duke alive. What know I how the world may deem of me? For it is known we were but hollow friends ; It may be judg'd, I made the duke away : So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded And princes' courts be fill'd with my reproach. This get I by his death : Ah me, unhappy ! To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy!

King. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man !

Queen. Be woe for me,3 more wretched than

he is.

What ! dost thou turn away, and hide thy face ? I am no loathsome leper ; look on me. What ! art thou, like the adder, waxen deuf ? Be poisonous too, and kill thy forlorn queen. Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb ? Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy :

Under this notion Shakespeare has several allusions to " that n«asl." Thus in The Winter's Tale, Act i. sc. 2:

" Make me not sighted like the basilisk : I have look'd on thousands, who have sped the better By my regard, t>ut kill'd none so.'' r

That is, let not woe be to thee for Gloster. but for me-

238 THE SECONT) PART ACT 1IL

Erect his statua,4 and worship it,

And make my image but an alehouse sign.

Was I for this nigh wreck'd upon the sea,

And twice by awkward wind5 from England's bank

Drove back again unto my native clime ?

What boded this, but well forewarning wind

Did seem to say, — Seek not a scorpion's nest,

Nor set no footing on this unkind shore 1

What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts,

And he that loos'd them from their brazen cave^

And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore,

Or turn our stern upon a dreadftil rock 1

Yet ^Eolus would not be a murderer,

But left that hateful office unto thee :

The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me,

Knowing that thou would'st have me drown'd on

shore,

With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness : The splitting rocks cower'd in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides, Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish6 Margaret. As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffi- When from the shore the tempest beat us back,

4 Statue was sometimes used as a word of three syllables, ana is so here. Through ignorance, perhaps, or oversight of this, modern editors have inserted then after statue. 11.

* The same uncommon epithet is applied to the wind by Mar lowe in h's Edward II. : •' With awkward winds, and with sorw tempests driven." And by Drayton, Epistle from Richard II. Ut Queen Isabel! :

" And undertook to travaile dangerous waies. Driven by awkward winds and boisterous seas."

0 The verb perish is here used actively. Thus in Beaunvorr «id Fletcher's Maid's Tragedy : " Lot not my sins perish you noble youth." And in their Honest Man's Fortune : "And mi- eries have perish'd his good face."

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 238

I stood upon the hatches in the storm ;

And when the dusky sky began to rob

.My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view,

I took a costly jewel from my neck, —

A heart it was, bound in with diamonds, —

And threw it towards thy land : The sea receiv'd it 5

.4 nd so I wish'd thy body might my heart :

And even with this I lost fair England's view,

And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart,

And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles,

For losing ken of Albion's wished coast.

How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue

(The agent of thy foul inconstancy)

To sit and witch 7 me, as Ascanius did,

When he to madding Dido would unfold

His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy !

Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like

him?

Ah me, 1 can no more ! Die, Margaret ! For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long.

Noise unthin. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY.

The Commons press to the Door. War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good Duke Humphrey traitorously is murder'd By Suffolk and the cardinal Beaufort's means. The commons, like an angry hive of bees That want their leader, scatter up and down, And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death.

7 The original reads watch ; but the use of wilch'd just below ^certains that it should be witch here. Of course every tolera We school-hoy will remember that it was not Ascaniu*. but Cupid in the form of Ascanius, that bewitched Dido with Jte tale of ' father yRnea* " R.

240 THE SECOND PART ACT in.

King. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis u>o

true;

But how he died, God knows, not Henry. Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, And comment then upon his sudden death.

War. That I shall do, my liege. — Stay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude, till I return.

[WARWICK goes into an inner Room, and SALISBURY retires.

King. O, Thou that judgest all things, stay my

thoughts !

My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul, Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life If my suspect be false, forgive me, God, For judgment only doth belong to Thee. Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses, and to rain Upon his face an ocean of salt tears, To tell my love unto his diusb deaf trunk, And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling ; But all in vain are these mean obsequies, And, to survey his dead and earthly image, What were it but to make my sorrow greater?

The folding Doors of an inner Chamber are thrmon open, and GLOSTER is discovered dead in his Red, WARWICK and Others standing by it.

War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body.

King. That is to see how deep my grave is made : For with his soul fled all my worldly solace ; For, seeing him, I see my life in death.

War. As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon Him To free us from His Father's wrathful curse,

SC. II. OK HENRY VI. 241

I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon tlie life of this thrice-famed duke.

>'//^~. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn

tongue ! What instance gives lord Warwick for his vow ?

War. See, how the blood is settled in his face ' Oft have I seen a timely parted ghost,8 Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart ; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er return

eth

To blush and beautify the cheek again. But see, his face is black, and full of blood ; His eyeballs further out than when he liv'd, Staling full ghastly like a strangled man: His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with stru$

gttng?

His hands abroad display'd, as one that gasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdued. Look, on the sheets his hair, you see, is sticking ; His well-proportion 'd beard made rough and ruggei, Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. It cannot be but he was murder'd here ; The least of all these signs were probable.

Suff. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke

to death ?

• That is, a body from whirh the soul had lately parted. Gnott «vas often used thus for corpse by the old writers. In a subsequent passage of the original play the word ghost is again used a* in the present instance. Young Clifford, addressing himself to hit father's dtad body, says, —

•• A dismal sight ! see where he breathless lies, All smear'd and welter'd in his lukewarm blood! Sweet father, to thy murder'd ghost 1 swear."

242 THE SECOND PART ACT in

Myself and Beaufort had him in protection, And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers.

War. But both of you were vow'd Duke Hum

phrey's foes,

And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep : 'Tis like, you would not feast liim like a friend, And 'tis well seen he found an enemy.

Queen. Then you, belike, suspect these noble- men As guilty of Duke Humphrey's timeless death.

War. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding

fresh,

And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak ? Even so suspicious is this tragedy.

Queen. Are you the butcher, Suffolk ? where H

your knife 1 Is Beaufort term'd a kite ? where are his talons ?

Suff. I wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping men ; But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart, That slanders me with murder's crimson badge. — Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, That 1 am faulty in Duke Humphrey's death.

[Exeunt the Cardinal, SOMERSET, and Others

War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him ?

Queen. He dares not calm his contumelious spirit, Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand tunes.

War. Madam, be still, with reverence may I say;

SC. 11. OF HF.NRY VI. 243

For every word you speak in his behalf la slander to your royal dignity.

Sujf. lilunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour. If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevilles' noble race.

War. But that the guilt of murder bucklers

thee,

And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, And say it was thy mother that thou meant'st : That thou thyself wast born in bastardy : And, after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men !

Stiff. Thou shall be waking while I shed thy

blood, If from this presence thou dar'st go with me.

War. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence Unworthy though thou art, I'll cope with thee, And do some service to Duke Humphrey's ghosu [Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK.

King. What stronger breastplate than a heart

untainted ?

Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just ; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted.

[A Noise ufithtn

Quem. What noise is this 7

244 THE SECOND PART ACT lit

Re-enter SUFFOLK and WARWICK, with their Weapons drawn.

King. Why, how now, lords ! your wrathful

weapons drawn

Here in our presence? dare you he so bold? — Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here ? Stiff. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of

Bury, Set all upon me, mighty sovereign.

Noise of a Croiod within. He-enter SALISBURY

Sal. [Speaking to those within.] Sirs, stand apart

the king shall know youi mind. — Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair England's territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace, And torture him with grievous lingering death. They say, by him the good Duke Humphrey died They say, in him they fear your highness' death ; And mere instinct of love and loyalty, - Free from a stubborn opposite intent, As being thought to contradict your liking, — Makes them thus forward in his banishment. They say, in care of your most royal person, That, if vour highness should intend to sleep, And charge that no man should disturb your rest, In pain of your dislike, or pain of death ; Yet, notwithstanding such a strait edict, Were there a serpent seen, with forked tongue, That slily glided towards your majesty, It were but necessary you were wak'd ; Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber,

SC II. OK HENRY VL 245

The mortal worm ' might make the sleep eternal : And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, That they will guard you, whe'r you will or no, From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is ; With whose envenomed and fatal sting Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, They say, is shamefully bereft of life.

Commons. [Within.] An answer from the king,

my lord of Salisbury ! Suff. 'Tis like, the commons, rude unpolish'd

hinds,

Could send such message to their sovereign ; But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, To show how quaint I0 an orator you are : But all the honour Salisbury hath won Is, that he was the lord ambassador, Sent from a sort" of tinkers to the king.

Commons. [Within.] An answer from the king,

or we will all break in ! King. Go, Salisbury, and tell them all from

me,

I thank them for their tender loving care ; And had I not been 'cited so by them, Yet did I purpose as they do entreat ; For, sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means. And therefore — by His majesty I swear, Whose far unworthy deputy I am —

' Deadly serpent.

10 The original meaning of quaint, from coinlf, French, and comptut, Latin, is curiously or artfully decked or trimmed. Here, accordingly, it bears the sense of cunning, dtrttrout ; as in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, Act ii. ic. 1 : " Yes, yei ; the licet are very quaintly writ." H.

11 Sft or company. See Act ii. »e. 1, note 8.

246 THE SECOND PART ACT JII

He shall not bieathe infection in this air12 But three days longer, on the pain of death.

[Exit SALISBURY.

Queen. O Henry ! let me plead for gentle Suffolk, King. Ungentle queen, to call liim gentle Suffolk No more, I say : if thou dost plead for him, Thou \vilt but add increase unto my wrath. Had I hut said, I would have kept my word : But, when I swear, it is irrevocable. — If after three days' space thou here be'st found On any ground that 1 am ruler of, The world shall not be ransom for thy life.1* — Come, Warwick, come, good Warwick, go with me I have great matters to impart to thee.

[Exeunt the KING, WARWICK, Lords, fyc Queen. Mischance and sorrow go along with you Heart's discontent and sour affliction Be playfellows to keep you company ! There's two of you ; the devil make a third, And threefold vengeance tend upon your steps !

'* That is, he shall not infect, or breathe infection into, this ail.

13 The storm of the commons against Suffolk did not burst forth till January, 1450, and was immediately occasioned by the disasters in France under Somerset's regency. As usual in such cases, many terrible crimes were charged upon Suffolk, but none of them were proved ; and be fell at last by violence, not by law. Holinshed has the following account of his fall : " The queene. which intirely loved the duke, doubting some commotion and trouble to arise, if he were let go unpunished, caused him for a colour to be committed to the Tower : where he remained not past a moneth, but was againe delivered and restored to the kings favour, as much as ever he was before. This dooing so much displeased the people, that if polilike provision had not beene great mischeefe had immediately insued. When the king per reived that there was no remedy to appease the peoples furie bj anie colourable waies, shortlie to pacific so long an hatred he ban ished the duke of Suffolke for tearme of five yeares, meaning by this exile to appease the malice of the people for the time, and after to revoke him home againe." H.

SC. II. OF HENRT VI. 24?

Sujf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave.

Queen. Fie, coward, woman, and soft-hearted

wretch ! Hast tin in not spirit to curse thine enemies?

Stiff. A plague upon them ! wherefore should 1

curse them ?

\Vould curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan," I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Deliver'd strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave : My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words; Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint ; My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract ; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban : And even now my burden'd heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink ! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees ! ' Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks !

14 The old superstition touching the mandrake is thus exposed l'\ Sir Thomas Browne in his Enquiries into Vulgar and Common Errors, Book ii. chap. 6 : '• The third atfirmeth the roots of man- dntkes do make a noise, or give a shriek, upon eradication ; which is indeed ridiculous, and false below confute : arising, perhaps, from a small and stridulous noise, which, being firmly rooted, it maketh upon divulsion of parts. The last concerneth ihe danger ensuing ; that there follows an hazard of life to them that pull il ap ; that some evil fate pursues them, and they live not long alter. Therefore the attempt hereof, among the ancients, was not in or- dinary way ; but, as Pliny informeth, when they intended to take ap the root of this plant, they took the wind thereof, and, with a sword describing three circles about it, they digged it up, looking westward." H.

14 Cypress was employed in the funeral rites of the Romoirt and hence is always mentioned as an ill-boding plant.

44S THE SECOND PART ACT III

Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings ! u Their music, frightful as the serpent's hiss ; And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell —

Queen. Enough, sweet Suffolk : thou torment's!

thyself;

And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, And turn the force of them upon thyself.

Stiff. You bide me ban,17 and will you bid me

leave 1

Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport.

Queen. O ! let me entreat thee, cease. Give me

thy hand,

That I may dew it with my mournful tears ; Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, To wash away my woeful monuments. O ! could this kiss be printed in thy hand, That thou might'st think upon these by the seal, Through whom a thousand sighs are breatli'd for

thee ! I8

So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief; 'Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by,

16 This is one of the vulgar errors in the natural history of OUT ancestors. The lizard has no sting, and is quite harmless.

17 This inconsistency is very common in real life. Those who are vexed to impatience, are angry to see others less disturbed than themselves ; but when others begin to rave, they immediately see in them what they could not find in themselves, the deformity and folly of useless rage.

19 That by the impression of my kiss forever remaining on thy band, thou mightest think on those lips through which a thousand sighs will be breathed for tliee.

so. n. or HENRY vi. 249

A* one that surfeits, thinking nn a want.

I \\ill repeal tliee, or, be well assur'd,

Adventure to be banished myself;

And banished I am, if but from thee.

<«o, speak not to me ; even now be gone. —

O, go not yet ! — Even thus two friends condemn'd

Kinhrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves,

Lother a hundred times to part than die.

Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee !

Stiff". Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou thence A wilderness is populous enough, So Suffolk had thy heavenly company ; For where thon art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world, And where thou art not, desolation. I can no more : — Live thou to joy thy life; Myself to joy in nought, but that thou liv'st.

Enter VAUX.

Queen. Whither goes Vaux so fast ? what news, I pr'ythee?

Vaux. To signify unto his majesty, That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death ; For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the ah, Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. Sometime he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost Were by his side ; sometime he calls tl»« king, And whispers to his pillow, as to him, The secrets of his overcharged soul:'*

19 So in Macbeth. Act v. sc. 1 : " Infected minds to their dc:ii pillows will dischargn their secrets." The passage Mtuul« tint- m '.he quarto ••

250 TITE SECOND PART ACT in

And I am sent to tell his majesty, That even now he cries aloud for him.

Queen. Go, tell this heavy message to the king.

[E'rt VAUX

Ah me ! what is this world ? what news are these 1 But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss,20 Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure ? Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, And with the southern clouds contend in tears ; Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows 1 Now, get thee hence : The king, thou know'st, is

coming : If thou be found by me, thou art but dead.

"Sometimes he calls upon Duke Humphrey's ghost, And whispers to his pillow as to him."

The cardinal died at his palace of Wolvesey, April 11, 1447, which was six weeks after the death of Gloster. He was eighty years of age. The chroniclers give him a very bad character, but it is remarkable that they do not specify facts to bear out their charges. Holinshed, following Hall, dismisses him thus : " He was descended of an honorable linage, but borr, in hast, more noble in blood than notable in learning, hautie in stomach, and high of countenance, rich above measure, but not veric lib- erall, disdainful! lo his kin, and dreadfull to his lovers, preferring monie before friendship, manic things beginning and few perform- ing, saving in malice and mischief; his insatiable covetousnesse a*"i hope of long life made him both to forget God, his prince, aiid himselfe." See, also, the First Part, Act i. sc. 1, note 6. Lingard vindicates him, and the vindication cannot well be upset: " Thai he expired in the agonies of despair, is a fiction whicn we owe to the imagination of Shakespeare : from an eye-witness we learn that during a lingering illness he devoted most of his time to religious exercises. According to the provisions of his wil., his wealth was chiefly distributed in charitable donations : no loss a sum than four thousand pounds was set, aside for the relief of indigent prisoners in the capital ; and the hospital of St. Cross in the vicinity of Winchester, still exists a durable monument of his munificence." H.

*° Why do I lament a circumstance of which the impression will pass away in an h,/ar ; while I neglect to think on the loss of Suffolk, my affection for whore no time will efface 1

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 251

Stiff. If 1 depart from thee, I cannot live ; And in thy sight to die, what were it else, Hut like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe, Dying with mother's dug between its lips ; Where,*1 from thy sight, I should be raging mad, And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth : So should'st thou either turn my flying soul, Or I should breathe it so into thy body, And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium. To die by thee, were but to die in jest ; From thee to die, were torture more than death • O ! let me stay, befall what may befall.

Queen. Away ! though parting be a fretful cor

rosive,

It is applied to a deathful wound. To France, sweet Suffolk : Let me hear from theo; For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, I'll have an Iris** that shall find th.ee out.

Suff. \ go.

Queen. And take my heart with thee.

Stiff". A jewel, lock'd into the woefull'st cask, That ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we : This way fall I to death.

Queen. This way for me.

[Exeunt, severally

fl Where for whereas ; as in other place*. 11 Iru was the messenger of JUDO

252 THE SECOND PART ACT III,

SCENE ill. London. Cardinal BEAUFORT'S Bed-chamber.

Enter King HENRY, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and Others. The Cardinal in Bed; Attendants with him.

King. How fares ray lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign.

Card. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's

treasure,

Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain.1

King. Ah ! what a sign it is of evil life, When death's approach is seen so terrible !

War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee.

Card. Bring me unto my trial when you will. Died he not in his bed ? where should he die ?

' This scene was evidently founded, in part, on a passage iu Hall : " Doctor John Baker, his privy counsellor and his chaplain, wrote that he, lying on his death-bed, said these words : ' Why should I die, having so many riches 1 If the whole realm would save my life, I am able either by policy to get it, or by riches to buy it. Fie' will not death be hired, nor will money do nothing? When my nephew of Bedford died, I thought myself half up the wheel ; but when I saw my other nephew of Gloster deceased, 1 thought myself able to be equal with kings, and so thought to in- crease my treasure in hope to have worn a triple crown. But I see now the world faileth me, and so I am deceived ; praying you all to pray for me ! ' " Lingard discredits this story, and adds that three weeks before his death the cardinal had himself carried into the great hall of his palace, where the clergy of the city and monks j>f the cathedral were assembled. " There he sat or lay while a dirge was sung, the funeral ceremony performed, and his will pub- icly read. The next morning they were assembled again : a mass of requ'em was celebrated, and his will was again read, with the addition of several codicils. He then took leave of all. and wa* earned back to his chamber." U.

9C. Ill OT HENRY VI. 25

Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no? — O ! torture me no more, I will confess. — Alive again ? then show me where he is : I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him — He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them. — Comb down his hair : look! look! it stands upright, Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul. — Give me some drink ; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him.

King. O, thou eternal Mover of the heavens, Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! O ! beat away the busy meddling fiend, That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, And from his bosom purge tliis black despair !

War. See, how the pangs of death do make him grin!

SaL Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably.

King. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure

be!

Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope. — He dies, and makes no sign : O God, forgive him !

"War. So bad a death argues a monstrous life.

King. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners all. — Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close, And let us all to meditation.* [Exeunt.

* Of this wonderful scene the quarto has a full outline and tome of the most Shakespearian touches which we must n««dj lubjoin :

"Card. O, death! if thou wilt let me live Rut one whole year, I'll sjive thee as much gold As will purchase such another island.

King. O, see, my lord of Salisbury, how he if tronblod ' Lord cardinal, remember, Christ must save thy soul.

Card. Why, died he not in his bed t What would you have me to do then T Can I make men live, whether they will or not

254 THE SECOND PART ACT IV

ACT IV.

SCENE I. Kent. The Sea-shore near Dover

Firing heard at Sea. Then enter, from a Boat, a Captain, a Master, a Masters-Mate, WALTER WHITMOKE, and Others ; with them SUFFOLK, disguised, and other Gentlemen, Prisoners.

Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful ' day Is crept into the bosom of the sea ; And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragic melancholy night ; * Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaw« Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air.

Sirrah, go fetch me the poison which the 'pothecary sent me. O, see where Duke Humphrey's ghost doth stand, And stares me in the face ! Look, look! romh down his hair! So, now he's gone again : O, O, O !

Sal. See, how the pangs of death do gripe his heart !

King. Lord cardinal, if thou diest assur'd of heavenly biiss, Hold up thy hand, and make some sign to us — O see ! he dies, and makes no sign at all. O God ! forgive his soul.

Sal. So bad an end did never none behold ; But as his death, so was his life in all.

King. Forbear to judge, good Salisbury, forbear, For God will judge us all. Go, take him hence, and see his funerals perfonn'd." H.

1 Remorseful is pitiful. — •' The epithet blabbing, applied to the da) by a man about to commit murder, is exquisitely beautiful. Guilt, if afraid of light, considers darkness as a natuial shelter, and makes night the confidant of those actions which cannot be trusted to the tell-tale day." — Johnson.

1 The chariot of the night is supposed by Shakespeare to bf drawn by dragons. See A Midsummer-Night's Droam, Act iii be 2. note 29.

SC. I OK HKNHV VI. 2/i5

Therefore, bring fortlj the soldiers of our pri/.e ; For, ululst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Hen- shall they make their ransom on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore. — Master, this prisoner freely give I thee ; — And thou that art his mate, make boot of tliis ; — The other, [Pointing to SUFFOLK,] Walter Whit

more, is thy share. 1 Gent. What is my ransom, master ? let me

know. Mast. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your

head. Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes

yours. Cap. What ! think you much to pay two thou

sand crowns,

And bear the name and port of gentlemen? — Cut both the villains' throats! — for die you shall: The lives of those wluch we have lost in fight I»e counterpois'd with such a petty sum ? 3

1 Gent. I'll give it, sir ; and therefore spare my

life.

2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it

straight. }\'liit. ['/'n SUFFOLK.] I lost mine eye in laying

the prize aboard,

And therefore, to revenge it, shalt thou die; And so should these, if I might have my will. Cap. Be not so rash ; take ransom, let him live.

* Modern editions, generally, following Malone, leave out tlie niti rrogalion mark here, and supply cannot at the beginning of ilie line. Of course the interrogative form strengthens the nega live sense. The design of the Captain, in seeming to scorn " suck a petty sum." probably is, to make them the more forward to pay the ransom. u.

256 THE SECOND PART ACT IT

Suff. Look on my George ; I am a gentleman : Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shall he paid. Whit. And so am I ; my name is Walter Whit

more. How now ! why start'st thou ? what ! doth death

affright ? Suff. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is

death.

A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me that by water I should die : * Yet let not this make thee be bloody minded ; Thy name is Gualtier, being rightly sounded.

Whit. Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care

not ;

Never yet did base dishonour blur our name, But with our sword we wip'd away the blot : Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defac'd. And I proclaim'd a coward through the world !

[Lays hold on SUFFOLK. Suff. Stay, Whitmore ; for thy prisoner is a

prince, The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole.

Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags ! Suff. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke : Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I ? &

4 Of course this refers to the prediction of the Spirit in Act i. se. 4. — Thus Drayton, in Queen Margaret's Epistle to this duke of Suffolk: —

" 1 pray thee, Poole, have care how thou dost pass ; Never the sea yet half so dangerous was ; And one foretold by water thou shouldst die." A note on these lines says, " The witch of Eye received answer from the spirit, that the duke of Suffolk should take heed of water."

' This line is supplied from the quarto, being plainly necessarj to introduce the next speech. H

5C. I. OK HENRY VI. 25?

Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou slmlt be.

Stiff". Obscure and lowly swain, King Henry's

blood,

The honourable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jaded groom." Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrup? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule, And thought thee happy when I shook my headl How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board* When I have feasted with Queen Margaret ! Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall'n ; Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride.7 How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood, And duly waited for my coming forth ! This hand of mine hath writ in thy behalf, And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue.

Whit. Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain?

Cap. First let my words stab him, as he hath me.

Sujf. Base slave ! thy words are blunt, and so art thou.

Cap. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's

side Strike off his head.

Sujf. Thou dar'st not for thy own.

Cap. Yes, Poole.8

Suf. Poole?

' A jaded groom is a low fellow. Suffolk's boast of his own blood was hardly warranted by his origin. His great-grandfather tifi been a merchant at Hull. If Shakespeare had known his pedigree he would not have failed to make some of bis adversa- ries reproach him with it.

7 Pride that has had birth too soon.

8 These words and the following, Poole ? are Uikeo from tht quarto, the sense evidently requiring them U

258 THE SECOND PART ACT IV

Cap. Poole? Sir Poole? lord!

Ay, kennel, puddle, sink ; whose filth and dirt Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth, For swallowing the treasure of* the realm ; Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the

ground ; And thou, that smil'dst at good Duke Humphrey's

death,

Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain, Who in contempt shall hiss at thee again : And wedded he thou to the hags of hell, For daring to affy9 a mighty lord Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Having neither suhject, wealth, nor diadem. By devilish policy art thou grown great, And, like ambitious Sylla, overgorg'd With gobbets of thy mother's bleeding heart. By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France : The false revolting Normans thorough thee Disdain to call us lord ; and Picardy Hath slain their governors, surpris'd our forts, And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. The princely Warwick, and the Nevilles all, Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain. As hating thee, are rising up in arms : And now the house of York — thrust from the

crown,

By shameful murder of a guiltless king, And lofty, proud, encroaching tyranny, — Burns with revenging fire ; whose hopeful colours Advance our half-fac'd sun,10 striving to shine,

• To betroth in marriage.

10 Edward III. bare for his device the rays of the sun dispen ing themselves out of a cloud. — Cainden's Remaint*

»C. . OF MK.NHY VI. 250

1 uder the which is writ — Invitis nubibus. The commons here in Rent are up in arms; And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary, Is crept into the palace of our king, Anil all by thee. — Away ! — convey him hence.

Stiff. O, that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges ! Small things make base men proud : this villain here, Being captain of a pinnace," threatens more Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate.1* Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives. It is impossible, that I should die By such a lowly vassal as thyself. Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me : I go of message from the queen to France ; [ charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel.

Cap. Walter! —

Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death.

Suff. Pene gelidus timor occvpat artus:13 — it in thee I fear.

" A pinnace then signified a ship of small burthen, built foi •peed. See The Merry Wives of Windsor, Act i. sc. 3, note 11.

'* "Bargutus, Illyrius latro, de quo est apud Theopompmn, magnas opes hahuit." — Cicero de Officiis. Shakespeare, as Dr. Farmer has shown, might have met with this pirate in some of the translations of his time : be points out two in which he it mentioned, hi the old play it is, •' Abradas the great Macedo- nian pirate."

11 The source from whence this line was extracted has not yet beeu discovered The following lines are the nearest which have Men found in the Classic Poets :

" Subitus tremor occupat artus."

Virg. jf.n. v. 446. " Ille quidem gelidot radiorum viribus artiu."

Ovid. Afetam. iv. 247. " Naviin, confessu gelido pallore timorem."

De Trittib. El. iii. 113

260 THE SECOND PART ACT IV

Wliit. Thou shall have cause to fear, before I

leave thee. What! are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop?

1 Gent. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair.

Sujf. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we should honour such as these With humble suit : no, rather let my head Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any, Save to the God of heaven, and to my king; And sooner dance upon a bloody pole, Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. True nobility is exempt from fear: — More can I bear, than you dare execute.

Cap. Hale him away, and let him talk no more.

Sujf. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, That this my death may never be forgot ! — Great men oft die by vile bezonians : M A Roman sworder and banditto slave Murder'd sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard hand Stabb'd Julius Caesar ; savage islanders, Pompey the Great;15 and Suffolk dies by pirates. [Exit SUFFOLK, urith WHITMORE and Others

Cap. And as for these whose ransom we have

set,

It is our pleasure, one of them depart : — Therefore come you with us, and let him go.

[Ezeun>. all bit tliejirst Gentleman.

14 A bezonian is a mean low person.

1 Pompey was killed by Achillas an<J Septimius at the moment that the Egyptian fishing boat in which they were reached the coast, his head being thrown into the sea ; a circumstance suffi- ciently resembling Suffolk's death to bring it to the Poet'a mem- ory ; though his mention of it is not quite accurate.

8C. II. OK MKNKV V.. 201

Re-enter WHITMORK, with SUFFOLK'S Body.

W/n't. There let liis head and lifeless body lie, Until the queen Ins unstress bury it. [Exit

1 Gent. O, barbarous and bloody spectacle! His body will I bear unto the king : If he revenge it not, yet will liis friends, So will the queen, that living held him dear."

[Exit, with the Body.

SCENE IL Blackheath.

Enter GEORGE BEVIS and JOHN HOLLAND.

Geo. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath : they have been up these two days.

John. They have the more need to sleep now, then.

Geo. I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it.

John. So he had need, for 'tis threadbare. Well, I say, it was never merry world in England, since gentlemen came up.

" The fate of Suffolk is despatched in few words by th« chroniclers. Thus Holinshed, following Hall : " But Gods jus- tice would not that so ungracious a person should so escape : for when he shipped in Suffolke. intending to transport himselfe over into France, he was incountered with a ship of warre, appertain- ing to the duke of Execster, constable of the Tower of London, called the Nicholas of the Tower. The capteine of that barke with small fi^ht entered into the dukes ship, and, perceiving hit person present, drought him to Dover road, and there on the one side of a corke hole caused his head to be striken off. and left his bodie with the head lieng there on the sands. Which corps, being there found by a chapleine of his, was conveied to \Vinj;- field college in Suffolke, and there buried " His death was io May, 1450. H

262 THE SECOND PART ACT 17

Geo. O miserable age ! Virtue is not regarded in handicrafts-men.

John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons.

Geo. Nay, more, the king's council are .10 good workmen.

John. True ; and yet it is said, — labour in thy vocation: which is as much to say, as, — let the magistrates be labouring men ; and therefore should we be magistrates.

Geo. Thou hast hit it ; for there's no better sign of a brave mind than a hard hand.

John. I see them ! I see them ! There's Best's son, the tanner of Wingham, —

Geo. He shall have the skins of our enemies to make dog's leather of.

John. — and Dick the butcher, —

Geo. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's throat cut like a calf.

John. — and Smith the weaver.

Geo. ArgOj their thread of life is spun.

John. Come, come ; let's fall in with them.

Drum. Enter CADE, DICK the Butcher, SMITH the Weaver, and Others in great number.

Cade. We John Cade, so term'd of our supposed father, —

Dick. [Aside.] Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings.1

1 Tom Nash speaks of having weighed one of Gabriel Harvey's hooks against a cade of herrings, and ludicrously says, " That the rebel Jack Cade was the first that devised to put red herrings in cades, and from him they have their name." — Lenten Stnffe. — dide, however, is derived from cndus, Latin, a cask. We maj add, from the accounts of the Cellaress of the Abbey of Barking in the Monasticon Anglicanuin, " a barrel of herryng shold con

SC. 1L OF HENRY VI. 263

Cadf. — for our enemies shall fall before ua, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings an^ princes. — Command silence.

Dirk. Silence !

Cade. My father was a Mortimer, —

Dirk. [Aside.] He was an honest man, and * good bricklayer.

Cade. — my mother a Plantagenet, —

Dick. [Aside.] I knew her well ; she waa 8 mid wife.

Cade. — my wife descended of the Lacys : —

Dick. [.Ix/VA .] She was indeed a pedler's daugh tcr, and sold many laces.

Smith. [Aside.] But, now of late, not able to travel with her furr'd pack, she washes bucks here at home.

Cade. — therefore am 1 of an honourable house.

Dick. [Aside.] Ay, by my faith, the field is hon- ourable, and there was he born, under a hedge ; for his father had never a house, but the cage.*

Cade. Valiant I am.

Smith. [Aside.] A' must needs; for beggary is valiant.

Cadi: I am able to endure much.

Dick. [Aside.] No question of that ; for I have seen him whipp'd three market days together.

Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire.

Smith. [Aside.] He need not fear the sword, for his soat is of proof.1

tain a thousand herryngs, and a cade of hen-yog six r.undred, six •core to the hundred." Cade, with more learning than should naturally fall to bis character, alludes to his name from cado, to fall.

* " Little places of prison, set commonly in the market place, for harlots and vagabonds, we call cage*." — Barrt.

1 A quibble is most probably intended between two senses o

204 THE SECOND PART ACT IT

Dick. [Aside*] But, rnetliinks, he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i'the hand for stealing of sheep.

Cade. Be brave, then ; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be in England seven half-penny loaves sold for a penny : the three- hoop'd pot shall have ten hoops ; * and I will make it felony, to drink small beer. All the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfrey go to grass. Arid, when I am king, (as king I will be,) —

AIL God save your majesty !

Cade. I thank you, good people : — there shall be no money : & all shall eat and drink on my score ; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers, and worship me their lord.

Dick. The first thing we do, let's kill all the law- yers.

Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment ? that parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some say the bee stings ; but I say 'tis the bee's wax ; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now ! who's there ?

he word ; one as being able to resist, the other as being iceU

rW, hat is, long worn.

4 These drinking1 vessels of our ancestors were of wood. Nasli. in his Pierce Pennilesse, says, " I believe hoopes in quart pots were inven Jd to that end, that every man should take his hoope, and no more."

4 " To mend the world by banishing money is an old contri- vance of those who did not consider that the quarrels and mis- chiefs which arise from money, as the signs 01 tickets of riches, must, if money were to cease, arise from riches themselves, and could never be at an end till every man were contented with hii own share of the goods of life." — Johnton

M'. It. OF HENRY VI. '-J65

Enltr Some, bringing in the Clerk of Clialham.

Smith The clerk of Chatham : he can write and read, and cast nccompt.

Cade. O monstrous !

Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies.

Cade. Here's a villain !

Smith. H'as a book in his pocket, with red let ters in't.

Cade. Nay, then he is a conjurer.

Dick. Nay, he can make obligations,8 and write court-hand.

Cade. I am sorry for't : the man is a proper man, on mine honour ; unless I find him guilty, he shall not die. — Come hither, sirrah, I must examine thee : What is thy name?

Clerk. Emmanuel.

Dirk. They use to write it on the top of letters . — 'Twill go hard with you.

Cade. Let me alone. — Dost thou use to write thy name? or hast thou a mark to thyself, like an honest plain-dealing man?

Clerk. Sir, I thank God, I have been so well brought up, that I can write my name.

All. He hath confess'd : away with him! he's a villain, and a traitor.

Cade. Away with him, I say ! hang him with hia pen and inkhorn about his neck.

[Exeunt Some with the Cleik. • That is, bonds.

7 That is, on the top of Letters Missive and such lik» public acts. Thus, in the old anonymous play of King Henry V'., the archbishop of Bruges says, — " I beseech your grace to deliver me your safe conduct, under your broad seal Emanutl." Th« king answers, — " Deliver him safe conduct under our broad SP--II Ktnannel.'

266 THE SECOND PART ACT IT

Enter MICHAEL.

Mich. Where's our general ?

Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow.

Mich. Fly, fly, fly ! Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the king's forces.

Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down : He shall be encounter'd with a man as good as him* self: he is but a knight, is a'?

Mich. No.

Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently. [Kneels.] Rise up Sir John Mortimer. Now have at him.

Enter Sir HUMPHREY STAFFORD, and WILLIAM his Brother, with Drum and Forces.

Staf. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of

Kent,

Mark'd for the gallows, lay your weapons down ; Home to your cottages, forsake this groom : — The king is merciful, if you revolt.

W. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd lo

blood, If you go forward : therefore yield, or die.

Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass

not:8

Tt is to you, good people, that I speak, O'er whom in time to come I hope to reign ; For I am rightful heir unto the crown.

Staf. Villain ! thy father was a plasterer ; Ajid thou thyself a shearman, art thou notl

8 I care not, I pay them no regard.

" Transform me to what shape you can, / pa** nc< what it he."

Drayton's Qitett of Cynthia

8C. D. OF HENRY VI. 2ff?

Cade. And Adam was a gardener.

IT. Staf. And what of that?

Cade. Marry, this : — Edmund Mortimer, earl of

March, .Married the duke of Clarence' daughter, did he notl

Staf. Ay, sir.

Cade. By her he had two children at one birth.

W. Staf. That's false.

Cade. Ay, there's the question ; but I say 'tis

true.

The elder of them, being put to nurse, Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away ; And, ignorant of his birth and parentage, Became a bricklayer, when he came to age : His son am I; deny it, if you can.

Dick. Nay, 'tis too true : therefore he shall be king.

Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my father*! house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it : therefore, deny it not.

Staf. And will you credit this base drudge's words, That speaks he knows not what?

All. Ay, marry, will we ; therefore get ye gone.

W. Staf. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath taught you this.

Cade. [Aside.] He lies, for I invented it myself. — Go to, sirrah : tell the king from me, that for his falhor's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I am con- tent he shall reign ; but I'll be protector over him.

Dick. And, furthermore, we'll have the lord Say'i head, for selling the dukedom of Maine.

Cade. And good reason ; for thereby is England maim'd, and fain to go with a stiiff, but that my holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you that

208 THE SECOND PART ACT If

that lord Say hath gelded the commonwealth, and made it an eunuch ; and, more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor.

Staf. O, gross and miserable ignorance !

Cade. Nay, answer, if you can : The Frenchmen are our enemies : go to, then ; I ask hut this : — Can he that speaks with the tongue of an enemy be a good counsellor, or no 1

All. No, no ; and therefore we'll have his head.

W. Staf. Well, seeing gentle words will not pre- vail, Assail them with the army of the king.

Staf. Herald, away ! and throughout every town Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade ; That those which fly before the battle ends May, even in their wives' and children's sight, Be hang'd up for example at their doors : — And you that be the king's friends, follow me.

[Exeunt the two STAFFORDS, and Forces.

Cade. And you that love the commons, follow

me. —

Now show yourselves men ; 'tis for liberty. We will not leave one lord, one gentleman : Spare none, but such as go in clouted shoon ;* For they are thrifty honest men, and such As would (but that they dare not) take our parts.

Dick. They are all in order, and march toward us

Cade. But then are we in order, when we are most out of order. Come, march ! forward !

[Exeunt

• Shoes.

SC. QL OF HENRY VI. 26P

SCENE HI. Another Part of Blackheath.

Alarums. The two Parties enter and jigld, and both the STAFFORDS are slain.

Cade. Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford?

Dick. Here, sir.

Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house : therefore, thus will I re- ward thee, — The Lent shall be as long again as it is ; and thou shalt have a license to kill for a hun dred lacking one.1

Dick. I desire no more.

Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest no less This monument of the victory will I bear ; * and the bodies shall be dragg'd at my horse's heels, till I do come to London, where we will have the mayor's sword borne before us.

1 That is. to kill flesh-meat for ninety-mne persons, throughout twice the usual term of Lent. The corresponding passage in tb« quarto is, — " Thou shalt have license to kill for four-score and one a week." Malone, and others following him, think to make the text clearer by adding the words a tceek from the quarto ; whereas such addition has rather the contrary effect. Reference is had to an order of Elizabeth's time strictly enjoining upon butchers not to sell flesh-meat in Lent ; which order was not so much with a religious view, as to diminish the consumption of flesh during thai season, and so make it more plentiful the rest of the year, and also to encourage the fisheries, and augment the number of sea- men. Butchers, however, who had interest at court were often favoured with a special dispensation from this order, on the pre- tence of supplying invalids who could not subsist without animal food. H.

* Here Cade must be supposed to take off Stafford's armour. 80 Holinshed : " Jack Cade, upon his viclorie against the Stai'- fords, apparelled himselfe in sir Humfries brigandine, set full of gilt oailes, and so in some glorie returned againe toward Loiulo i '

270 THE SECOND PART ACT I?

Dick. If Ave mean to thrive and do good, break open the jails, and let out the prisoners.

Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come let's march towards London. [Exeunt

SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter King HENRY, reading a Supplication ; the Duke of BUCKINGHAM, and Lord SAY with him : at a distance, Queen MARGARET, mourning over SUFFOLK'S Head.

Queen. Oft have I heard that grief softens the

mind,

And makes it fearful and degenerate : Think, therefore, on revenge, and cease to weep. But who can cease to weep, and look on this 1 Here may his head lay on my throbbing breast; But where's the body that I should embrace?

Buck. What answer makes your grace to the rebels' supplication 7

King. I'll send some holy bishop to entreat; For God forbid, so many simple souls Should perish by the sword ! And I myself, Rather than bloody war shall cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade their general. — But stay, I'll read it over once again.

Queen. Ah, barbarous villains ! hath this lovely

face

Rul'd like a wandering planet over me, And could it not enforce them to relent, That wore unworthy to behold the same ?

King. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head.

Say. Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his.

SO. IV. OF HENRY VI. 271

King. How now, madam !

Still lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's death? 1 fear, my love, if that I had been dead, Thou wouldest not have mourn 'd so much for me.

Queen. No, my love ; I should not mourn, but die for thee.

Enter a Messenger.

King. How now ! what news ? why com'st tliou in sucii haste?

Mess. The rebels are in Southwark ! Fly, my

lord!

Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer, Descended from the duke of Clarence' house ; And calls your grace usurper, openly, And vows to crown himself in Westminster His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless . Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's death Hath given them heart and courage to proceed. All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, They call false caterpillars, and intend their death.

King. O, graceless men ! they know not what they do.

Ruck. My gracious lord, retire to Killingworth, Until a power be rais'd to put them down.

Queen. Ah ! were the duke of Suffolk now alive, These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd.

King. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee ; Therefore away with us to Killingworth.

Say. So might your grace's person be in danger

1 Killin^vorth is the ancient form of Kmiltcorth, and occun frequently in Holinsbed and other old writers. In modern edition! the name has been unwarrantably changed into the modern form

2~!'Z THE SECOND I ART ACT IV

The sight of me is odious in their eyes ; And therefore in this city will I stay, And live alone as secret as I may.

Enter another Messenger.

2 Mess. Jack Cade hath gotten London-bridge

the citizens

Fly and forsake their houses. The rascal people, thirsting after prey, Join with the traitor ; and they jointly swear To spoil the city, and your royal court.

Buck. Then linger not, my lord : away, take

horse. King. Come, Margaret : God, our hope, will

succour us. Queen. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is de-

ceas'd. King. [ To Lord SAY.] Farewell, my lord : trust

not the Kentish rebels.

Buck. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd. Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, And therefore arn I bold and resolute. [Exeunt.

SCENE V. The same. The Tower.

Enter Lord SCALES, and Others, on the Walls. Then enter certain Citizens, below.

Scales. How now ! is Jack Cade slain ?

1 Cit. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain ; for they have won the bridge, killing all those that with- stand them. The lord mayor craves aid of your honour from the Tower, to defend the city from th« rebels.

?C. VI. OF HKNKY VI. 273

Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall com

mam! ;

But I ain troubled here with them myself: The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower. But get you to Sinithfield, and gather head, And thither will I send you Matthew Gough. Fight for your king, your country, and your lives ; Arid so farewell, for I must hence again. [Exeunt.

SCENE VI. The same. Cannon-Street

Enter JACK CADE, and his Followers. He strike* his Staff" on London-Stone.

Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting upon London-stone, I charge and com mand, that, of the city's cost, the pissing-conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now, henceforward, it shall be treason for any th:it calls me other than lord Mortimer.'

Enter a Soldier, running.

Sold. Jack Cade ! Jack Cade !

Cade. Knock liim down there. [They kill him.

Smith. If this fellow be wise, he'll never call you Jack Cade more : I think he hath a very fair warning.

Dick. My lord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield.

Cade. Come, then, let's go fight with them : But, first, go and set London-bridge on fire ; * and, if

1 " He also put to execution in Southwarke diverse persons, •ome for breaking this ordinance, and other being his old ac* quaiutance, lest they should bewray his base linage, disparaging him for his usurped name of Mortimer." — Holinshed.

* At that lime London-bridge was of wood : the house* upoi

274 THE SECOND PART ACT IV

you can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let's away. [Ert.unf

SCENE VII. The same. Smithfield.

Alarum. Enter on one Side, CADE and his Compa- ny; on the other, Citizens, and the King's Forces, headed by MATTHEW GOUGH.' They fight ; the Citizens are routed, and MATTHEW GOUGH is slain.

Cade. So, sirs : — Now go some and pull down the Savoy ; 2 others to the inns of court : down with them all.

Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship.

Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word.

Dick. Only, that the laws of England may come out of your mouth.3

John. [Aside.] Mass, 'twill be sore law then ; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet.

Smith. [Aside.] Nay, John, it will be stinking law ; for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese.

Cade. I have thought upon it ; it shall be so Away ! burn all the records of the realm : my mouth shall be the parliament of England.

it were actually burnt in this rebellion. Hall says " he entered London, and cut the ropes of the draw-bridge."

1 Holinshed calls Matthew Gough " a man of great wit and much experience in feats of ehivalrie, the which in continual! warres had spent his lime in serving of the king his father."

* This trouble had been saved Cade's reformers by his prede cessor Wat Tyler. It was never rebuilt till Henry VI. founded the hospital.

3 " It was reported, indeed, that he should saie with great pride that within four daies all the Mias of England should come foorA of hit mouth." — Holinshed

SC. VII. OF HENRY VI. 275

John. [Aside.] Then we are like to have biting statutes, unless his teeth be pulPd out.

Cade. And henceforward all things shall be in common.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord, a prize, a prize ! here's the lord Say, which sold the towns in France ; he that made us pay one-and-twenty fifteens,4 and one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy.

Enter GEORGE BEVIS, with Lord SAY.

Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten time*. -Ay, thou say,* thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord ! now art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty, for giving up of Normandy unto monsieur Basimecu, the dauphin of France? Be it known unto thee by these presence, even the presence of lord Mor- timer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of such filth as thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm in erecting a grammar-school : and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be us'd ; * and, contrary to the king, his crown, and dignity,

4 A.Jiftten was the fifteenth part of all ihe moveables, or per- •cnal properly of each subject.

/ •« a kind of thin woollen stuff or serge.

• Shakespeare is a little loo early with this accusation. Vel Meerinaii. in his Origines Typographic*, has availed himse.f of this passage to support his hypothesis that printing was introduced into Kngland by Frederic Corsellis, one of Coster's workmen, from Haerlem in the time of Henry VI. Shakespeare's anachronisms are not more extraordinary than those of his contemporaries Spenser mentions cloth made at Lincoln in the ideal reign of Kiti£ Arthur, and has adorned a castle at the same period wilk r-lolli i>f Arru> and of Tours.

2?0 THE SECOND i«AKT ACT IV

them hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face, that them hast men about thee, that usually talk of a noun, and a verb, and such abominable words, as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor rneu before them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison ; and because they could not read, thou hast hang'd them ; when, indeed, only for that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth,7 dost thou not 1 8

Say. What of that?

Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets.

Dick. And work in their shirt too ; as myself, for example, that am a butcher.

Say. You men of Kent, —

Dick. What say you of Kent?

Say. Nothing but this : 'Tis bona terra, mala gens,

7 Afoot-cloth was a kind of housing, which covered the body of the horse : it was sometimes made of velvet and bordered with gold lace. This is a reproach truly characteristic : nothing gives so much offence to the lower orders as the sight of superfluities merely ostentatious.

8 A comparison of this speech as it is in the quarto will show that it gained nothing in humour by the revisal : " Come hither, thou Say, thou George (serge.) thou buckram lord, what answer canst thou make unto my mightiness, for delivering up the towns in France to monsieur Bus-mine-cue, the dolphin of France ? And, more than so, thou hast most traitorously erected a gram- mar-school, to infect the youth of the realm ; and against the King's crown and dignity thou hast built up a paper-mill : nay, it will be said to thy face, that thou keep'st men in thy house tha daily read of books with red letters, and talk of a no'in and verb and such abominable words as no Christian ear is able to endure it. And, besides all this, thou hast appointed certain justices of the peace in every shire, to hang honest men that steal for theii living; and because they could not read, thou hast hung them up only for which cause they were most worthy to live.'' ' 11.

8C. Vfl OF HENRY VI. 277

Car It. Away with him ! away with liini ! he sjKjaks Latin.

Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me where

you will.

Kent, in the commentaries Csesar writ, Is term'd the civilest place of all this isle : * Sweet is the country, because full of riches ; The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy ; Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy; Yet, to recover them, would lose my life Justice with favour have I always done ; Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never When have I aught exacted at your hands, But to maintain the king, the realm, and you? Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, Because my book preferr'd me to the king : And, seeing ignorance is the curse of God, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to heaven, Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me. This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings For your behoof, —

Cade. Tut ! when stmck'st thou one blow in the field?

Say. Great men have reaching hands : oft have

I struck Those that I never saw, and struck them dead.

9 "Ex his omnibus sunt humanissimi, qui Cantium incolnnt." — Cceiar. Thus translated by A. R. Golding. 1590 : « Of all the inhabitants of the isle, the ciriUtt are the Kentish-folke." It if •aid also in the same words in Lyly's Eupbues and his England, 1660.

lu Of course lord Say here addresses the Kentiih people by the name Kent. It were needless to say this, but that, •>< m the

278 THE SECOND PAR1 ACT IV

Geo. O, monstrous coward ! what ! to come be- hind folks 1

Say. These cheeks are pale for" watching for your good.

Cade. Give him a box o'the ear, and that will make 'em red again.

Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's causea Hath made me full of sickness and diseases.

Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and the help of hatchet.1*

Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man?

Say. The palsy, and not fear, provoketh me.

Cade. Nay, he nods at us ; as who should say, ['11 be even with you. I'll see if lu's head will stand steadier on a pole, or no : Take him away, and be- head him.

Say. Tell me, wherein have I offended most? Have I affected wealth, or honour? speak ! Are my chests fill'd up with extorted gold ? Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death ? These hands are free from guiltless blood-shedding," This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. O, let me live !

Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words ;

want of a comma after Kent in the folio, certain editors have thought the passage corrupt, and so undertaken to mend it. 11

11 That is, because of.

ia These it should seem, were a sort of cant phrases for hang ing, and beheading, or, perhaps, hanging and quartering. Dr Farmer, and others following him, have thought that " the help of natchet " should be " the pap of a hatchet," and have changed the text accordingly ; their only authority being, that Lyly wrota a tract entitled " Pap with an Hatchet ; alias, A Fig for my God son ; or, Crack me this Nut ; that is, a sound Box of the Ear.

H.

19 That is, these hands are free from shedding guiltless or in nocent blood.

so m or HKNIIY vi. 279

hut I'll bridle it : he shall die, an it be but for plead- ing so well for his life. Away with him ! he h.'is a familiar H under his tongue: he speaks not o'God'd name. Go, take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently ; and then break into liis son-in- law's house, Sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither.1*

All. It shall be done.

Say. Ah, countrymen ! if, when you make your

prayers,

God should be so obdurate as yourselves, How would it fare with your departed souls7 And therefore yet relent, and save my life.

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye. [Exeunt Somct with Lord SAY.

The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute : there shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her maidenhead ere they have it. Men shall

14 A demon who was supposed to attend at call.

16 The following is Holinshed's account of these doings • " Aftei that, he entered into London, cut the ropes of the draw-bridge, and strooke his sword on London stone, saieng, ' Now is Mortimer lord of this citie.' And, after a glosing declaration made to the maioi touching the cause of his thither routining, he departed againe into Southwarke, and upon the third daie of Julie he caused sir James Fines, lord Saie, and treasurer of England, to be brought to the Guildhall, and there to be arreigned ; who, being before the kings justices put to answer, desired to be tried by his pecres, for the longer delaie of his life. The capteine, perceiving his ml- a< >rie plee, by force tooke him from the officers, and brought him to the standard in Cheape, and there caused his head to be striken off, and pitched it upon an high pole, which was openlie borne be- fore him through the streets. And, not content herewith, he went to Mile-end, and there apprehended sir James Cromer, then sher- iff* of Kent, and sonne-iii-law to the said lord Saie, causing him likewise to be beheaded, and his head to be fixed on a pole. And with these two heads this bloudie wretch enlred into the citie agaiu« and as it wore in spile caused them in ex'erie street to kifM I j -ether, to the great detestation of all the beholders." •

280 THE SKCOND PART ACT IV

hold of me in capitr. ; and we charge and command, that their wives be as free as heart can wish, or tongue can tell.

Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and take up commodities upon our bills 1 "

Cade- Marry, presently.

All O brave!

Re-enter Rebels, with the Heads of Lord SAT and

his Son-in-law.

Cade. But is not this braver 1 — Let them kiss one another, for they lov'd well, when they were alive. Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night ; for with these borne before us, instead of maces, will we ride through the streets, and at every corner have them kiss. — Away ! [Exeunt

SCENE VIII. Southward

Alarum. Enter CADE, and all his Rabblemcnt.

Cade. Up Fish-Street ! down St. Magnus' Corner! kill and knock down ! throw them into Thames ! — [A Parley sounded, then a Retreat.] What noise ia this I hear? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley, when I command them kill?

Enter BUCKINGHAM and Old CLIFFORD, with Forces. Buck. Ay, here they be that dare and will dis- turb thee :

18 A quibble is here intended between bills of debt or credit IUKI the weapons used hy watchmen and soldiers, which were alsq called bills. See Much Ado about Nothing, Act iii. sc. 3, note 8 Also. As You Like It, Act i. sc. 2, note 5. H.

SC. VIII. OF HKNRY VI. 281

Know. Cade, we conic ambassadors from the king I nto the commons \\lmm thou hast misled ; And here pronounce free pardon to them all, That will forsake thee, and go home in peace.

Clif. What say ye, countrymen ? will ye relent, And yield to mercy, while 'tis offer'd you, ( )r let a rebel lead you to your deaths ? Who loves the kinjr, and will embrace his pardon, Fling up his cap, and say — God save his majesty ' Who hateth him, and honours not his father, Henry the Fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by.

AIL God save the king ! God save the king !

Cade. What ! Buckingham, and Clifford, are ye so brave? — And you, base peasants, do ye believe liim ? will you needs be hang'd with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through London Gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southward ? I thought ye would never have given out these arms, till you had recov ered your ancient freedom : but you are all recre ants and dastards, and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs with har- dens, take your houses over your heads, ravish your wives and daughters before your faces : For me, — I will make shift for one ; and so — God's r u rse light upon you all !

All. We'll follow Cade, we'll follow Cade.

Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the Fifth, That thus you do exclaim, you'll go with him? Will he conduct you through the heart of France, And make the meanest of you earls and duke's? Alas ! he hath no home, no place to fly to ; Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil, Unless bv robbing of your friends, and us.

282 THE SECOND PART ACT IV.

Were't not a shame, that whilst you live at ja», The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you 1 Metlunks, already, in this civil broil, I see them lording it in London streets, Crying — Villiaco ! unto all they meet. Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry, Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy To France, to -France ! and get what you have

lost:

Spare England, for it is your native coast. Henry hath money, you are strong and manly : God on our side, doubt not of victory.

All A Clifford ! a Clifford ! we'll follow the king and Clifford.

Cade. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro, as this multitude ? the name of Henry the Fifth hales them to a hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads to- gether, to surprise me : my sword make way for me, for here is no staying. — In despite of the devils arid hell, have through the very midst of you ! and heavens and honour be witness, that no want of resolution in me, but only my followers' base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake me* to my heels. [Exit

Buck. What ! is he fled 1 go some, and follow

him;

And he, that brings his head unto the king Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. —

[Exeunt some of (hem, Follow me, soldiers : we'll devise a mean To reconcile you all unto the king. [Em/it

sc. n OF HENRY vi. 283

SCENE IX. Killingworth Castle.

Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, and SOM ERSET, on the Terrace of the Castle.

King. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne, And could command no more content than It No sooner was I crept out of my cradle, But I was made a king, at nine months old : Was never subject long'd to be a king, As I do long and wish to be a subject.

Enter BUCKINGHAM and CLIFFORD.

Buck. Health, and glad tidings, to your majesty ! King. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor, Cade.

surprised ? Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?

Enter, below, a number of CADE'S Followers, urith Halters about their Necks.

Clif. He's fled, my lord, and all his powers do

yield;

And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, Expect your highness' doom, of life, or death. King. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting

gates,

T 5 entertain my vows of thanks and praise ! — So.diers, this day have you redeem'd your lives, And show'd how well you love your prince and

country :

Continue still in this so good a mind, And Henry, though he be infortunate, Assure yourselves, will never be unkind :

284 THE SECOND PART ACT II

And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, I do dismiss you to youi several countries.

All. God save the king ! God save the king !

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Please it your grace to be advertised, The duke of York is newly come from Ireland, And with a puissant and a mighty power Of Gallowglasses, and stout Kernes,1 Is marcliing hitherward in proud array ; And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, His aims2 are only to remove from thee The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitoi

King. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade ami

York distress'd,

Like to a ship, that, having scap'd a tempest, Is straightway calm'd,3 and boarded with a pirate ; But now 4 is Cade driven back, his men dispersed ; And now is York in arms to second him. — I pray thee, Buckingham, go and meet him, And ask him, what's the reason of these arms. Tell him, I'll send Duke Edmund to the Tower; — And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither, Until his army be dismiss'd from him.

' " The Galloglasse useih a kind of pollax for his weapon These men are grim of countenance, tall of stature, big of limme, lusty of body, wel and strongly timbered. The kerne is an ordi nary foot-soldier, using for weapon his sword and target, and some- times his piece, being commonly good markmen." — Stanihurst'i Description of Ireland.

9 The firrt folio has arms here, the second armies. Mr. Dyc« has pointed out several instances in the old copies where we have arm misprinted for aim ; and he adds, — " There cannot be a shadow of doubt that the true reading is aims." H.

3 The first folio reads calme ; which may be right. The sec- ond folio printed by mistake claimed ; and the third folio calm'd This reading has been adopted as most perspicuous.

4 But is here not adversative. " It was oitiyjust nov>."

SC. X. OV HENRT VI. 285

Som. My lord,

I'll yield myself to prison willingly, Or unto death, to do iny country good.

King. In any case, be not too rough in terms ? For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language

Buck. I will, my lord ; and doubt not so to deal, A.- all things shall redound unto your good.

King. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern

better ; For yet may England curse my wretched reign.

[Exeunt.

SCENE X. Kent. IDEN'S Garden.

Enter CADE.

Cade. Fie on ambition ! fie on myself; that have a sword, and yet am ready to famish ! These five days have I hid me in these woods, and durst not peep out, for all the country is laid for me ; but now am I so hungry, that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on a brick wall have I climb'd into tliis garden, to see if I can eat grass, or pick a Ballet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. And I think this word sallet was born to do me good; for many a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan had been clefl with a brown bill; and, many a time, when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath serv'd me instead of a quart-pot to drink in ; and now the word sallet must serve me to feed on.1

1 Of course Cade is punning on the word toilet, which meant a helmet as well as a preparation of herbs. In illustration of ihc text, Mr. Collier produces an apt passage from en Intcrk'<J« written u- early as 1537, where the hero. Thersites. w>n'.i - u

286 THE SECOND PART ACT IV

Enter IDEN, with Servants.

Iden. Lord ! who would live turmoiled in the

court,

And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance, my father left me, Contented) me, and worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others' waning ; * Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy : Sufnceth, that I have maintains my state, And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.

Cade. Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave. A villain ! thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the king for carrying my head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part.

Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, I know thee not ; why then should I betray thee 1 Is't not enough, to break into my garden, And, like a thief, to come and rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms?

Cade. Brave thee ? ay, by the best blood that ever was broach'd, and beard thee too. Look on me well : I have eat no meat these five days ; yet.

Mulciber for a suit of armour, and Mulciber pretends to rnisun ilerstand him :

" Thersites. Nowe, I pray Jupiter, that thou dye a cuckold I

I mean a sallet with which men do fyght. Mulciher. It is a small tastinge of a maunes might, That he should for any matter Fyght with a few herbes in a platter." H.

* The original has warning, which was corrected by Pope. Ii (he preceding liu« is is understood before worth. H.

tfC. X. OF HENRY VI. 28?

come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail,3 I pray God, I may never eat grass more.

Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England

stands,

That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine ; See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; Thy hand is but a finger to my fist ; Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon . My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast ; And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. As for words, whose greatness answers words,4 Let this my sword report what speech forbears.

Cade. By my valour, the most complete cham- pion that ever I heard. — Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out the burly-bon'd clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech (rod on my knees, thou mayest be turn'd to hob- nails. [T/iey fight: CADE falls.] O, I am slaui ' Famine, and no other, hath slain me : let ten thou- sand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. With- er, garden ; and be henceforth a burying-plnce to all that do dwell in this house, because the uncou- quered soul of Cade is fled.

Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor ?

3 For aii explanation of this phrase see 2 Henry IV., Act r se. 3, note 10. H.

4 Johnson explains this, •• As for words, whose pomp and ru mour may answer words, and only words, I shall forlwar them and refer the rett to my noord."

5288 THE SECOND PART ACT IV

Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, And hang thee o'er my tomb, when 1 am dead : Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point ; But thou shall wear it as a herald's coat, To emblaze the honour that thy master got.

Cade. Iden, farewell ; and be proud of thy vie- tiny. Tell Rent from me, she hath lest her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards ; for I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. [Dies.

Iden. How much thou wrong'st me, Heaven be

my judge.

Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee ! And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, So wish I, 1 might thrust thy soul to hell. Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, And there cut off thy most ungracious head ; Which I will bear in triumph to the king, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.*

[Exeunt, dragging out tlie Body.

• The Poet has here wandered from the line of historical fact with a view, no doubt, to relieve his scenes of strife and hatred witli a passage of rural quiet and unambitious comfort. Iden had in fact just been appointed sheriff" of Kent, and was in pursuit of I'ade, having1 left home for that very purpose. The matter, how- ever, is thus given by Holinshed : " A gentleman of Kent, named Alexander Eden, awaited so his time, that he tooke the said Cade in a garden in Sussex; so that there he was slain at Hothfield, and brought to London in a cart, where he was quartered, his bead set on London bridge, and his quarters sent to diverse places to be set up in the shire of Kent." Cade's flight was on the 9Ui of July, 1450, and his death but two days after. H.

OF HENRY VI. H

ACT V.

SCENE I. The same.

Fields between Dartford and Blackheath.

The King's Camp on one Side : on the other, enter YORK attended, vrith Drum and Colours ; his Forces at some distance.

York. From Ireland thus comes York, to claim

his right,

And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head : Ring, bells, aloud! burn, bonfires, clear and bright To entertain great England's lawful king. Ah, sancta majestas! who would not buy thee dear' Let them obey, that know not how to rule ; This hand was made to handle nought but gold : I cannot give due action to my words, Except a sword, or sceptre, balance it.1 A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul ; * On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France.

Enter BUCKINGHAM.

Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb mel The king hath sent him, sure : I must dissemble. Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy

greeting. Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure ?

Buck. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege,

1 That is, bnlanre my hand.

* York means, " If I have a soul, my hand shall not be wltb out a sceptre."

290 THE SECOND PAUT ACT »

To know the reason of these arms in peace ; Or why them, being a subject as I am, Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, Should'st raise so great a power without his leave, Or dare to bring thy force so near the court.

York, [Aside.] Scarce can I speak, my cholei is so great.

0 ! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint,

1 am so angry at these abject terms ; And now, like Ajax Telamonius,

On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. [ am far better born than is the king, More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts ; But I must make fair weather yet a while, Till Henry be more weak, and I more strong. O, Buckingham ! I pr'ythee, pardon me, That I have given no answer all this while . My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. The cause why I have brought this army hither, Is to remove proud Somerset from the king, Seditious to his grace, and to the state.

Buck. That is too much presumption on thy part, But if thy arms be to no other end, The king hath yielded unto thy demand : The duke of Somerset is in the Tower.3

3 York's arrival from Ireland was in September, a few weeks after Cade's death. Proceeding- to London with a retinue of four thousand men, he wrung from the king a promise that he would call a parliament, and then retired to one of his castles. Upon the return of Somerset from France a few days later, the old en- mity between them revived with greater fierceness than ever. The next year York withdrew into Wales, and there gathered an army of ten thousand men; and when the king went against him with a much larger force, he turned aside and passed on into Kent, and encamped himself near Dartford. From thence he sent word to the king that his coming was but to remove certain evil counsel- lors, especially Somerset, and promising to dissolve his army, if that nobleman were committed to prison, and held to answer in

SC. 1. OF HENK? VI. 291

York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner?

Hut k. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.

York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my pow- ers.—

Soldiers, I thank you all ; disperse yourselves . Meet me to-morrow in St. George's field ; You shall have pay, and every thing you wish. And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, Command my eldest son, — nay, all my sons, As pledges of my fealty and love, I'll send them all as willing as I live : Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have Is his to use, so Somerset may die.

Buck. York, I commend this kind submission : We twain will go into his highness' tent.

Enter King HENRY, attended. King. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm

to us, That thus lie marcheth with thee arm in arm T

York. In all submission and humility, York doth present liimself unto your highness. King. Then what intend these forces thou dost

bring ?

York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence ; And fight against that monstrous rebel, Cade, Who, since, I heard to be discomfited.

Enter IDEN, with CADE'S Head. Lien. If one so rude, and of so mean condition,

open parliament whatever charges might he laid against him. Th« issue of the negotiation thereupon is thus staled by Holinsned : •' After all this adoo, it was agreed upon by advise, lor the avoid- ing of bloudshed, and pacifieiig of the duke and his people, tliat tae duke of Summerset was committed to ward, as some say, 01 else commanded to keepe himselfc privie in his owue house tor a jm«." H-

292 THE SECOND PAHT ACT V

May pass into the presence of a king, Lo ! I present your grace a traitor's head, The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.

King. The head of Cade? — Great God, how

just art thou ! —

O ! let me view his visage being dead, That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him !

Iden. I was, an't like your majesty.

King. How art thou call'd, and what is thy de- gree 1

Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name ; A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king.

Buck. So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss He were created knight for his good service.

King. Iden, kneel down : [He kneels.] Rise up

a knight.

We give thee for reward a thousand marks ; And will, that thou henceforth attend on us.

Iden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty, And never live but true unto his liege !

King. See, Buckingham ! Somerset comes with

the queen : Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.

Enter Queen MARGARET and SOMERSET.

Queen. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his

head, But boldly stand, and front him to his face.

York. How now ! Is Somerset at liberty ? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts, And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? — False king, why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I can lirook abuse?

St. I. OF UENRV VI. 293

King did I cull thee? no, thou art not king; Nor fit to govern and rule multitudes, Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not, rule a traitor. That head of thine doth not become a crown ; Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. That gold must round engirt these brows of mine ; Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, Is able with the change to kill and cure. Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up, And with the same to act controlling laws. Give place : by Heaven, thou shall rule no more O'-er him, whom Heaven created for thy ruler.4

Som. O, monstrous traitor! — I arrest thee, York, Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown : Obey, audacious traitor ; kneel for grace.

York. Would'st have me kneel 1 first let me ask of these,6

4 The whole of this speech is marked by Malone as altered from the quarto ; which makes it desirable, perhaps, to have botfc forms at hand for comparison :

« Who's that ? proud Somerset at liberty T Base, fearful Henry, that thus dishonour's! me, By Heaven, thou shall not govern over me : I cannot brook that traitor's presence here ; Nor will I subject be to such a king, That knows not how to govern nor to rule. Resign thy crown, proud Lancaster, to me, That thou usurped hast so long by force ; For now is York resolv'd to claim his own, And rise aloft into fair England's throne." H.

1 The original has thee here, which makes the passage so inco- herent that it seems strange why any one should reject Theobald's emendation. Collier, however, retains thee. Of course York must be supposed to point towards his sons, who are in sight.— Holinshed may have furnished the following basis for this part of the scene : " Tnc duke of Yorke the first of March dissolved his armie. brake up his campe, and came to the kings tent, where, coDtrarie to his expectation, and against promise made by the

£34 THE SECOND PART ACT V

If they can brook I bow a knee to man. — Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail ;

[Exit an Attendant

I know, ere they will have me go to ward,6 They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement

Queen. Call hither Clifford ; bid him come amain To say, if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father.

York. O, blood-bespotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge ! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father's bail ; and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys.

Enter EDWARD and RiCHARD,7 witli Forces, at one Side; at the other, with Forces also, Old CLIFFORD and his Son.

See, where they come ; I'll warrant they'll make it good.

king, (as other write,) he found the duke of Summerset going at large and set at libertie, whome the duke of Yorke boldlie ac- cused of treason, briherie, oppression, and manie other crimes. The duke of Summerset not onlie made answer to the dukes ob- jections, but also accused him of high treason, affirming, that he with bis fautors and complices had consulted togither, how to com* by the scepter and regall crowne of this realme. By meanes of which words the king remooved streight to London, and the duke of York as prisoner rode before him, and so was kept awhile ;;

a.

• Custody, confinement.

7 At this time, 1452, Edward, York's oldest son, was but ten years old. However, Holinshed relates, that " whilest the coun- eell treated of saving or dispatching the duke of Yorke, a rumor sprang through London, that Edward earle of March, sonne and heire-apparent to the said duke, with a great armie of Marchnien was comming toward London ; which tidings sore appalled the queene and the whole councell." The issue of this trouble was, that " tne councell set the duke of Yorke at libertie, and permit- led him to go to his castell of Wigmore, in the marches of Walei;

8C. T. OF HENUY VI. 295

Queen. And here comes Clifford, to deny their

hail.

Clif. Health and all happiness to my lord the

king ! [Kneels.

York. I thank tliee, Clifford: Say, what news

with thee ?

Nay, do not fright us with an angry look : We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.

Clif. This is my king, York : I do not mistake ; But thou mistak'st me much, to think I do. — To Bedlam 8 with him ! is the man grown mad ? King. Ay, Clifford ; a bedlam and ambitious

humour Makes him oppose himself against his king.

Clif. He is a traitor : let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his."

by whose absence the duke of Summerset rose in such high ta vour, both with the king and queene, that his voice onelie ruled, nnd his voice alone was heard." u.

8 This " hospital! for distracted people" was founded, accord ing to Stowe, by Simon Fitz-Mary. one of the sheriffs of Lon don, in the year 1246. It was called •• The Hospital of St. Mary of Bethlehem ; " which laller term was corrupted into Bed/am. — In this part of the scene, the Poet, in order to come at once upon •he battle of St. Albans, overleaps a period of three years, from March, 1452, to the .spring of 1455, during which time the queen gave birth to a son, who was named Edward, and, the king hav- ing fallen into a state of bodily and mental imbecility, York re- giiincd the ascendancy and became protector, and Somerset wa§ committed to ihe Tower, but, upon the king's recovery not long alter, was released ; whereupon York withdrew into Wales, and gathered the army which fought on his side in the ensuing bat- tle." H.

* It was Stmerset, not Clifford, that gave this advice : "The duke of Summerset, which now conceived in his mind the thing that shortlie followed, incessantlie exhorted the counrcll, that the duke of Yorke might be driven to confesse his offence, lhat so, be- ing atteinted of treas in. he might suffer execrtion, and his children to be taken as adversaries to tneir native counlrie." — Holinthet

29G THE SECOND PART ACT »

Queen He is arrested, but will not obey : His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.

York. Will you not, sons ?

Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.

Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons shall.

Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have vrv here !

York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so ; I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. — Call hither to the stake my two brave bears,10 That with the very shaking of their chains They may astonish these fell lurking curs : Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me.

Drums. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY, with Forces.

Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears

to death,

And manacle the bear-ward in their chains, If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place.

Rich. Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur Run back and bite, because he was withheld ; Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw,11 Hath clapp'd liis tail between his legs, and cried : And such a piece of service will you do, If you oppose yourselves to match lord Warwick.

Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape ! 18

10 The Nevilles, earls of Warwick, had a bear and ragged gtafT for their crest.

11 "Being suffer'd to approach the bear's fell paw" maybe the meaning; but it is probable that suffer'd is used for made to suffer.

lf In the stage-direction of the quario we have, — " Enter the Duke of York's sons, Edward the Ea;I of March, and crook-tick

SC. I. OF HENRY VI. '2y,

York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.

Clif. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.

King. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to

bowl —

Old Salisbury, — shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son ! — What ! wilt thou on thy death bed play the ruffian, Ami seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? O ' where is faith? O ! where is loyalty? If it be banish'd from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? — Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war, And shame thine honourable age with blood? Why art thou old, and want'st experience? Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it ? For shame ! in duty bend thy knee to me, That bows unto the grave with mickle age.

S<iL My lord, I have consider'd with myself The title of this most renowned duke ; And in my conscience do repute his grace The rightful heir to England's royal seat.

King. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me T

Sal. I have.

King. Canst thou dispense with Heaven for such an oath?

SaL It is great sin to swear unto a sin,

/tichard, at the one door, with Drum and Soldiers." — The Poet here anticipates by many years ; for as York's oldest son was at this time but thin :cn, and as there were two others, Edmund ana George, between liim and Richard, of course the latter could have no part in these transactions. A similar anticipation touching Prince Henry occurs near the close of King Richard II. ; and, indeed, the thing is so in keeping with Shakespeare's melho.i of art, that it may go far toward* inferring his authorship of the original play. 11

298 THE SECOND PART ACT V

But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.

Who can be bound by any solemn vow

To do a murderous deed, to rob a man^

To force a spotless virgin's chastity,

To reave the orphan of his patrimony,

To wring the widow from her custom'd right ;

And have no other reason for this wrong,

But that he was bound by a solemn oath 1

Queen. A subtle traitor needs no sophister.

King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm him- self.

York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou

hast, [ am resolv'd for death, or dignity.

Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.

War. You were best to go to bed, and dream

again, To keep thee from the tempest of the field.

Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm, Than any thou canst conjure up to-day ; Arid that I'll write upon thy burgonet,13 Might I but know thee by thy household badge.

War. Now, by my father's badge, old Neville's

crest,

The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet, (As on a mountain top the cedar shows, That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,) Even to affright thee with the view thereof.

Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear, And tread it under foot with all contempt, Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear

13 A burgonet is a helmet ; a Burgundian's steel cap or casque.

BC. II. OF HF.NKY VI. iW

Y. Clif. And so to arms! victorious father, To quell the rebels, and their 'complices.

Rich. Fie ! charity ! for shame ! speak not in

spite, For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.

Y, Clif. Foul stigmatic,14 that's more than tliou

canst tell.

Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.

[Exeunt severally.

SCENE II. St. Albans.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK. War. Clifford of Cumberland ! 'tis Warwick

calls !

And if thoti dost not hide thee from the bear, Now, — when the angry trumpet sounds alarm, And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, — Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me ! Proud northern lord, Clifford of Curiberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.

Enter YORK. How now, my noble lord ! what ! all a-foot ?

York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed But match to match I have encounter'd him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.

Enter CLIFFORD. War. Of one or both of us the time is come.

14 One on whom nature has set a mark of deformity, a stigma It was originally and properly " a person who had been branded with a hot iron for some crime ; one notably defamed for uaugb liness."

300 THE SECOND PART ACT V

York. Hold, Warwick ! seek thee out some other

chase, For I myself must hunt this deer to death.

War. Then, nobly, York ; 'tis for a crown thou

fight'st. —

As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.

[Exit WARWICK. Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why dost

thou pause? York. With thy brave bearing should I be in

love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy.

Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise and

esteem, But that 'tis shown ignobly, and in treason.

York. So let it help me now against thy sword, As I in justice and true right express it !

Clif. My soul and body on the action both ! — York. A dreadful lay ! l — address thee instantly. Clif. La Jin couronne les ceuvres.

[ They Jight, and CLIFFORD falls and dies. York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou

art still. Peace with his soul, Heaven, if it be Thy will ! 2

[Exit.

1 A dreadful wager ; a tremendous stake.

* The author, in making Clifford fall by the hand of York, has departed from the truth of history, a practice not uncommon with nim when he does his utmost to make his characters considerable. This circumstance, however, serves to prepare the reader or spec- tator for the vengeance afterwards taken by Clifford's son on York and Rutland. At the beginning of the Third Part the Poet rep •esents Clifford's death as it really happened!

;( Lord Clifford, and lord Stafford, all a-breast, Charg'd our main battle's front, and. breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain."

*C. It. OF HENRY VI. -101

Enter Young CLIFFORD.

Y. Clif. Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O war! thou son of hell, Whom angry heavens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance ! Let no soldier fly : He that is truly dedicate to war Hath no self-love ; nor he that loves himself Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour. — O ! let the vile world end, [Seeing fiis Father's Body And the premised3 flames of the last day Knit earth and heaven together ! Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, Particularities and petty sounds To cease !4 — Wast thou ordain'd, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve The silver livery of advised age, And, in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus To die in ruffian battle? — Even at this sight My heart is turn'd to stone ; and, while 'tis mine, It shall be stony. York not our old men spares ; No more will I their babes : tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ; And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.

' Premsrd is sent before their time. The sense is, let the flames reserved for the last day be sent now.

4 To eeast was sometimes used actively for to stop, or to cautt to cease. Thus in Timon of Athens, Act ii. se. 1 : "Be not ceat'd with slight denial." — Achieve, in the next line. ha» the sens* of reach, or arrive at — Advited, second line below, is exper^need tn usage not uncommon with Shakespeare. H.

302 THE SECOND PART ACT V

Henceforth I will not have to do with pity :

Meet I an infant of the house of York,

Into as many gobbets will I cut it,

As wild Medea young Absyrtus did : *

In cruelty wih1 I seek out my fame.

Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house ;

[Taking up the Body As did ./Eneas old Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders : But then ^Eneas bare a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit.

Enter RICHARD and SOMERSET, fighting, and SOMERSET is killed.

Rich. So, lie thou there; — For, underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, The Castle in St. Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death.8 —

* When Medea fled with Jason from Colchos, she murdered her brother Absyrtus, and cut his body into several pieces, thai her father might be prevented for some time from pursuing her.

6 Referring to the prediction of the Spirit in Act i. sc. 4. The matter is thus mentioned by Holinshed : " The fight for a time was right sharpe and cruell 5 for the duke of Summerset, with otner lords, comming to the succour of their companions that were put to the woorse, did what they could to beat backe the en! mies : but the duke of Yorke s»nt ever fresh men to succour the wearie. and tc supplie the places of them that were hurt, whereby the kings armie was finallie brought low, and all of the cheefteiiiB of the field slaine and beaten downe. For there died under the feigne of the castell, Edmund duke of Summerset, who, as hath jeenc reported, was warned long before to avoid all castels." This Edmund was brother to John Beaufort, the Somerset of the oreceding play, and succeeded to his title at his death in 1432. He was the king's nearest surviving relative, being grandson to Tohn of Ghent, and, after the fall of Suffolk, was looked to and trusted by his royal kinsman as a counterpoise to the ambition of York. He left three sons, Henry, Edmund, and John, who, says he chronicler, " to the extremi tie of death tooke part with the lint of kiug Henrie " H.

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 30!i

Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still : Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, and Others, retreating.

Queen. Away, my lord ! you are slow : for shame,

away!

King. Can we outrun the heavens? good Mar- garet, stay. Queen. What are you made of? you'll nor fight

nor fly:

Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, To give the enemy way ; and to secure us By what we can, which can no more but fly.

[Alarum afar off'

If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom Of all our fortunes ; but if we haply scape, (As well we may, if not through your neglect,) We shall to London get ; where you are lov'd, And where this breach, now in our fortunec made, May readily be stopp'd.

Enter Young CLIFFORD.

Y. Clif. But that my heart's on nature mischief

set,

1 would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly ; But fly you must : uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present party. Away for your relief ! and we will live To see their day, and them our fortune give. Away, my lord, away ! [Eieunt

H04 THE SECOND PART ACT V

SCENE III. Fields near St. Albans.

Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter YORK, RICH ARD, WARWICK, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colours.

York. Old Salisbury, who can report of liim ? That winter lion, who in rage forgets Aged contusions and all brush of time; And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,1 Repairs him with occasion : this happy day Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, If Salisbury be lost.

Rich. My noble father,

Three times to-day I holp him to his horse, Three times bestrid him ; 2 thrice I led him off, Persuaded him from any further act : But still, where danger was, still there I met him ; And like rich hangings in a homely house, So was his will in his old feeble body. But, noble as he is, look where he comes.

Enter SALISBURY.

Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought

to-day ;

By the mass, so did we all. — I thank you, Richard: God knows how long it is I have to live ; And it hath pleas'd Him, that three times to-day You have defended me from imminent death. —

1 That is, the height of youth : the brow of a hill is its summit * That is, three times I saw him fallen, and striding over him defended him till he recovered. This act of friendship Shake- speare has frequently mentioned. See 1 Henry IV., Act v. se. 1. note 7.

8C. III. OF HENRY VI. 305

Well, lords, we have not got that which we have : * 'Tis not enough our foes are tliis time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature.4

Yark. 1 know our safety is to follow them; For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, To call a present court of parliament. Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth : — What says lord Warwick ? shall we after them 7

War. After them ? nay, before them, if we can. Now by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day : St. Albans' battle, won by famous York, Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come. — Sound, drums and trumpets! — and to London all; And more such days as these to us befall !

[Exeunt.

1 That is, we have not secured tnat which we have acquired.

* That is, being enemies that are likely so soon to rally and recover themselves from this <lefeai. To repair, in ancient Ian- gnmge, wai to rtnovate, to restore to a former condition

INTRODUCTION

THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.

THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH resumes tl course of history just where it paused at the close of the preced ing play, and carries it on from the first battle of St. Alhans, May, 1455, till the death of King Henry, which took place in May, 1471. And the connection of this play with the foregoing is much the same as that between the First Part and the Second, there being no apparent reason why the Third should begin where it dues. t>ut that the Second ended there. The parliamentary doings, which resulted in a compromise of the two factions, are here set in im- mediate juxtaposition with the first battle of St. Albans, whereas in fact they were separated by an interval of more than five years. Nevertheless, the arrangement is a very judicious one •, for that interval was marked by little else than similar scenes of slaugh- ter, which had no decisive effect on the relative condition of par- ties ; so that (he representing of them would but have encumberec1 the drama with details without helping on the purpose of the work. Not so, however, with the battle of Wnkefield, which followed hard upon those doings in parliament; for this battle, besides that it yielded matter of peculiar dramttic interest in itself, had the effect of kindling that inexpressible rage and fury of madness, which it took such rivers of blood to slake. For historians note tiiat from this time forward the war was conducted with the fiercest rancour and exasperation, each faction seeming more intent to butcher iliao 10 subdue the other. The cause of this demoniacal piiihusi;i>m could not well be belter presented than it is in the wanton and re- morseless savagery displayed at the battle in question. And the effect is answerably told in the next battle represented, where Ihe varying fortune and long-doubtful issue served but to multiply and deepen the horrors of the tragedy. Even the pauses of the fight arc but occupied in blowing hotter the passion and l>rnr'ng finnei the purpose of the combatants; while the reflection of the Kinp,

310 THE THIRD PART OK HENRY VI.

whose gentle mature suffers alike in the success and the defeat of his party, solemnlv moralize the scene, and render it the more awfully impressive oy drawing in a remembrance of the homely rural contentment which has been scared away. His plaintive and pathetic musing- is aptly followed by a strain of wailing, waft- ed, as it were, from the grand chorus of woe and anguish which the nation strikes up, on finding that in the blind tearing rage of faction the father has unwittingly been slaughtering his son. and the son his father. And such an elegiac tone as here swells upon the hearing is in truth the most natural and fit expression of a meditative patriotism, grieving over wounds which it is powerless to redress.

Thus in these two points of the drama the spirit and temper of the whole war is concentrated. Nor is it easy to see how the materials could have been better selected and disposed, so as to give out their proper significance, without bruising the feelings or distracting the thoughts of the spectator. By the final overthrow of the Lancastrians at Towton, the Yorkists were left to the di- vulsive energy of their own passions and vices ; for in their pre- vious contests had been generated a virulence of self-w!I! that would needs set them at strife with one another when- they had no common antagonist to strive against. The overbearing pride and arrogance of Warwick would not brook to be crossed, and the pampered caprice of Edward would not scruple to cross it : the latter would not have fought as he did. but to the end that be might be king; nor would the former have done so much for him, but that he might have a king subject to his control. It is re markable that the causes of the deadly feud between the king- maker and his royal creature have never been fully explained. History having assigned several, the Poet, even if he had known better, was amply warranted in taking the one that could be made to tell most on the score of dramatic interest. And the scene at the court of Lewis justifies his choice, being, in point of sound stage-effect, probably the best in the play; while the representa- tion, however untrue to fact, is true to the temper, the motives, and character of the parties concerned ; so that the Poet may here be said in a justifiable sense to have invented history, gath- ering up and bodying forth the spirit and life of several years in the form of one brief transaction. With such an occasion, and such an assemblage of character, what a piece of work the Poet would have made in the maturity of his powers, when experience had armed his genius with a proportionable degree of technical skill \

The marriage of King Edward with the lady Elizabeth took place in May, 1464, something more than three years after the battle of Towton. The queen's influence over her husband, re- sulting in the preferment of her family, gave apt occasion foi those discontents and schisms in the faction, which, in whatevei

INTRODUCTION. 31 1

line of conduct he had followed, conld not have heen long witb oat pretexts. Of course the effect of such schisms was to rally and strengthen the opposite fuctioii into a renewal of the conflict The capture of Edward l>y Warwick occurred in the summer of 1469. and was followed by the restoration of Henry, who had been over live years a prisoner in the Tower. The domineering and dictatorial habit of Warwick was not less manifest in his alii ance with Henry than it had been with Edward. The earl had (riven his oldest daughter to Clarence; and as she was to inherit her father's immense estates, he thus seemed to have a sure hold on her husband. But the duke appears to have regarded the mar nape as offering him a prospect of the throne ; so that the niaiu eord between them was broken when Warwick gave bis second daughter to the son of Heury. In October, 1-170, Edward made his escape to the continent. The following March he leturned, and in about a month was fought the battle of Barnet, where he recovered the throne in spite of Warwick, and therefore had tbfl better chance of keeping it. For this success he was much in- debted to the perfidy of Clarence, who, having raised a large body of IIIIMI liv commission from Henry, but with the secret purpose of using them for Edward, a few days before threw off* the mask, openly renouncing his father-in-law, and rejoining his brother. The death of Warwick at the battle of Barnet left Edward little to fear, and his security was scarce disturbed by the arrival of Queen Margaret, on the very day of that battle, with aid from France ; which aid, together with what remained of Henry's late army, was despatched a few days after in the battle of Tewks- hury. Prince Edward being murdered at the close of this last battle, and bis father in the Tower about two weeks later, the Lancastrian line of princes was now extinct, so that its partizans had no inducement to prolong the terrible contest.

Further particulars of the history will be given from time to time in our notes. By a little attention to the dates it will be seen that throughout this play the Poet keeps to the actual order of events. And a more careful observation will readily perceive, that out of a large mass of materials Shakespeare judiciously -t lerti->l such portions, and arranged them in such fashion, as migoi well convey in dramatic form the true historical scope and import of the whole. As the period brought forth little that was mem- orable save battles, all of which were marked by much the same bloodihirstiness of spirit, it was scarce possible to avoid an un usual degree of sameness in the action of the play ; and the Poet seems to have made the most of whatever means were at hand for giving variety to the scenes. Such are the angry bickering! in parliament at the beginning; the cruel slaughter of young Rut- land, and the fiendish mockeries heaped upon York, at Wukctield ; the lyr-Hl unbosoming* "' llfiiry wh«-n c-liiilden from the field bjr t'liil'ord, and when taken prisoner l>y the limilsnifii ; the wooing

J12 THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.

of lady Elizabeth by Edward, and the biting taunts and sarcasmi which his brothers vent upon him touching his marriage ; and especially the passages between Lewis, Margaret, Oxford, and Warwick, at the French court ; in some of which the Poet seems rather to have overworked his matter of purpose to relieve and diversify the representation. Yet this play is by no means equal to the Second Part in variety of interest ; and, but for the pungent seasoning sprinkled in here and there from the bad heart and busy rain of the precocious Richard, would be in some danger of perishing by its own monotony.

All through this dramatic series the delineation of the meek and inoffensive Henry is wrought out with studious care and consis tency from the character ascribed to him in the Chronicles. His leading traits and dispositions are thus summed up in Holiushed : " He was of seemly stature, of body slender; his face beautiful, wherein continually was resident the bounty of mind with which he was inwardly indued. Of his own natural inclination he ab- horred all the vices as well of the body as of the soul. He was plain, upright, far from fraud, wholly given to prayer,, reading of Scriptures, and alms-deeds ; of such integrity of life, that the bishop, which had been his confessor ten years, avouched that he had uot all that time committed any mortal crime ; so continent, as suspicion of unchaste life never touched him. So far he was from covetousness. that when the executors of his uncle, surnamed the rich cardinal, would have given him two thousand pounds, he plainly refused it, willing them to discharge the will of the depart- ed, and would scarcely accept the same sum toward the endowing of his colleges in Cambridge and Eton. He was so pitiful, that when he saw the quarter of a traitor against his crown over Crip plegate he willed it to be taken away, with these words, — 'I will not have any Christian so cruelly bandied for my sake.' Many great offences he willingly pardoned ; and receiving at a time a great blow by a wicked man which compassed his death, he only said, — • Forsooth, forsooth, ye do foully to smite a king anointed so.' "

The Poet's representation is in the main but a temperate h'lling- up and colouring of this historical sketch and outline. The three plays embrace the whole period of the king's life ; and in the child of the First Part a steady eye will readily discern the rudi- menU of what afterwards appears more fully developed in the man ; the lines of his individuality meantime growing imperceptibly firmer, while years bring with them a riper ihouglitfulness, and a more considerate, though hardly less passive virtue. At times he seems quite spirited and energetic, but this is generally under some sudden external pressure, and passes away as soon as he has time to temper and adjust his mind to the exigency. He shows considerable powers of thought and will, but somehow he cannot bring them to move athwart his sense of right ; while a*

INTRODUCTION. 313

ttie same time such is his moral anil intellectual ranclour as to ren- Her him inaeeenibto to the sophistries whereby men usually recon- cile their conscience to the suggestions of interest or passion: so tli-lii-ate and sensitive is his rectitude, that he can hardly bear of two evils to choose the least ; and his position has always been sucli as obliged him either to act upon a choice of evils, or else to do nothing. And it is to be noted, withal, that there has ever Ix'cu a disproportion between bis nature and his circumstances, so that the latter could not properly educate the former ; whatsoever native principles of energy there were in him having been rather choked down than called forth, by the rampant, uudisciplii ed, overbearing energy of those about him. Thus he is an instance of a truly good man, altogether out of place; and himself fully aware of his unfitness for the place he is in, yet unable to leave it, for the very reason that the staying there involves him in con- tinual self-sacrifice. He would still be a peace-maker, and there- fore what be did still resulted in war, because in his circumstances war was the only effectual means of peace. The only impartial man in the kingdom, his impartiality, however, seems rather the oil'spring of weakness than of principle: yet, while his condition moves our pity, his piety and innocence secure him a share of respect ; and we are apt to think of his situation as one where evil has got such head that it must needs take its course and run itself out, there being no way for the good to conquer but by sullen ng.

One is strongly tempted to run a parallel between Henry VI. and Richard 11.. as delineated by Shakespeare. To this tempta- tion llaziitl yielded outright, and perhaps we may as well follow him so far at least as to start the subject. The two kings closely resemble each other in a certain weakness of character, bordering on effeminacy, and this resemblance is made especially apparent by llieir similarity of stale and fortune. Yet this very circum- stance, which in almost any other hands would have caused a con- founding of the men, seems only to have put Shakespeare upon a mori- careful discrimination of them. Richard is as selfish as be is weak, and weak, perhaps, partly because of his seltishnesi. With large and fine powers of mind, still his thinking never runs clear of sell. 1ml is all steeped to the core in personal regards • and to him a thing seems right and good only as, for private ends, nc wishes to have it so : he can scarce see things to be true or false, but as they serve or thwart his own fancies and pleasures. And because his thoughts do not rise out of self, and stay in ilio contemplation of general and independent truth, therefore it is that his course of life runs so learingly a-clash with the laws and con- ditions of his place. With Henry, on the other hand, <!isin edness is pushed to ihc degree of an infirmity. He seems to perceive and own truth all the more willingly where it involves a sacritice ol his persona! interests and rights ; whereas, thes

314 THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.

an essential part of that general truth which maketh strong, a so her and temperate regard to them is among the constituents of wisdom. For a man, especially a king, cannot be wise for others, unless he be so for himself. Thus Henry's weakness seems to spring in part from an excessive disregard of self. He permits the laws to suffer, and in them the people, partly because he can- not vindicate them without, in effect, taking care of his own cause. This trait is finely exemplified in his talk with the keepers who bave taken him captive, where he urges the sanctity of an oath he more strictly, that in this instance it makes against himself. Had he been as rigid and exacting in his own case, as he is here in behalf of his rival, their oaths to himself would not have been broken ; and for their breach of faith he blames his own remiss ness, as having caused them to wrong themselves.

Much has been said by one critic and another about the Poet's Lancastrian prejudices as manifested in these plays. One may well be curious to know whether those prejudices are to be held responsible for the portrait of Queen Margaret, wherein we have, so to speak, an abbreviature and sum-total of nearly all the worst vices of her time. The character, however life-like and striking its effect, is coloured much beyond what sober history warrants . though some of the main features are not without a basis of fact, still the composition and expression as a whole has hardly enough of historical truth to render it a caricature. Bold, ferocious, and tempestuous, void alike of delicacy, of dignity, and of discretion, all the bad passions, out of which might be engendered the mad ness of civil war, seem to flock and hover about her footsteps Her speech and action, however, impart a wonderful vigour and lustihood to the movement of the drama ; and perhaps it was only by exaggerating her or some other of the persons into a sort of representative character, that the springs and processes of that long national bear-fight could be developed in a poetical and dramatic form. Her penetrating intellect and unrestrainable vol- ubility discourse forth the motives and principles of the combatant factions ; while in her remorseless impiety and revengeful ferocity is impersonated, as it were, the very genius and spirit of the tcr rible conflict. So that we may regard her as, in some sort, ?n ideal concentration of that murderous ecstasy which seized ujcu the nation. Nor is it inconsiderable that popular tradition, sprung from the reports of her enemies, and cherished by patriotic feel- ing, had greatly overdrawn her wickedness, that it might have whereon to father the evils resulting from her husband's weakness, and the moral distemper of the times.

The dramatic character of Margaret, whether as transpiring ai court or in the field, is sustained at the same high pitch through »ut. Afflictions do but open in her breast new founts of eml>it- lerment : her speech is ever teeming with the sharp answer thai engenders wrath; and out ot every wound issues tiie virnlenr?

INTRODUCT ION. 315

mat is sure in provoke another blow. And even in the next piny, when she is stripped of arm* and instruments, so that her thoughts can no longer be embodied in acts, for this very cause her euer- fie.' concentrate themselves more and more in words : she talks with the greater power and effect, for that she can do nothing else j anil her eloquence, while retaining all its point and fluency, waxes the more formidable, that it is the only organ she has left of her "ill. So that she still appears the same high-grown, wide-branch- ing tree, rendered leafless indeed, and therefore all the fitter for the blasts of heaven to howl and whistle through.

Much might be said by way of explaining how, in the drama, the union of Henry and Margaret has the effect of making them both more and more what they ought not to be ; his doing too little evermore stimulating her activity, and her doing too much as constantly opiating his. And by their endeavouring thus to repair each other's excess, that excess is not only heightened in itself, but rendered on both sides more mischievous in its effects, forasmuch as it practically inverts the relation between them : her energy cannot make up for his imbecility, because in either case the quality does not fit the person. For in seeking to make his place good she only displaces both herself and him. and, of course, the more she docs out of her place, the more she undoes her cause. All which shows that in such matters it is often of less consequence what is done, than by whom, and how ; for the simple reason that the issue depends not so much on the form of the act, as on the manner in which it is viewed by those to whom it refers. Finally, if any one think that Margaret's ferocity is strained up to a pitch incompatible with her sex, and unnecessary for the occasion ; per- haps it will be deemed a sufficient answer, that the spirit of such a war could scarce be dramatically conveyed without the presence of a fury, and that the Furies have always been represented as females.

Warwick and Clifford are appropriate specimens of the old English feudal baronage in the height of its power and splendour; a class of men brave, haughty, turbulent, and rough, accustomed to wield the most despotic authority on their estates, and therefore spurning at legal restraint in their public capacity ; and individu- ally able, sometimes, to overawe and browbeat both king and parliament. In the play, however, we see little of their personal trails, these being, for the most part, lost in the common habits and sentiments of their order ; not to mention that, in the collision of such steel-clad champions, individual features are apt to be kept out of sight, and all distinctive tones are naturally drowned in the clash of arms. It is mainly what they stand for in the public action, that the drama concerns itself about, not those character- istic issues which are the proper elements of a personal acquaint* aoce. Yet they are somewhat discriminated: Clifford is more fierce and special in his revenge, because more tender and warn

3 1C THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.

in his affections ; while Warwick is more free from particultu hate, because his mind is more at ease in the magnitude of his power, and the feeling1 of his consequence. It is said that not less than thirty thousand persons lived daily at the tables of his different castles and manors. Add to this, that his hospitality was boundless, his dispositions magnificent, his manners caplivat nig, his spirit frank, forthright, and undesigning, and it ma}' well be conceived why his " housekeeping won the greatest favour of the commons," insomuch that, though but an earl in stvle. he could in effect force kings to reign as viceroys under him. Holinshed speaks of him thus : " Full fraught was this nobleman with good qualities right excellent and many, ail which a certain natural grace did so far forth recommend, that with high and low he was in singular favour and good liking, so as, unsought-for it seemed, he grew able to command all alone." And his bearing in the play is answerable to the character that history assigns him ; though it were to be wished, that in the doings of the king maker the Poet had given us more taste of the individual man.

The representation of Suffolk in the Second Part might also be cited in disproof of Shakespeare's alleged bias to the Lancas- trian side. Ambitious, unprincipled, impatient of every one's pride and purpose but his own, a thorough-paced scoundrelism is de- picted in him without mitigation or remorse. Yet if his dramatic character be compared with the worst that history has alleged concerning him, the portrait will probably appear to have rather the overcolouring of a young author aiming at effect, than the temperance and moderation of conscious strength. Generally, nowever, the Second Part and the Third are in effect a pretty fair revivification of history, in that they set before us an overgrown nobility, a giant race of iron-bound warriors, who being choked off from foreign conquest, and unused to the arts of peace, their high-strung energies got corrupted into fierce hatreds and revenge- ful passions ; and they had no refuge from the gnawings of pride and ambition, but to struggle and fight at home for that distinction which the}' had oeen bred to anticipate by fighting abroad.

In the Second and Third Parts of Henry VI. the character of Richard is set forth in the processes of development and forma- tion ; whereas in King Richard III. we have little else than the working-out of his character as already formed. In Shake- speare's time the prevailing idea of Richard was derived from the History of his life and reign, put forth by Sir Thomas More, but supposed to have been partly written by Dr. John Morton, himself a part of the subject, who was afterwards Cardinal, Pri- mate of England, and Lord Chancellor to Henry VII. More's History, as it is commonly called, was adopted by both Hall and Holinshed into their Chronicles. In that noble piece of compo- sition the main features of the subject are digested and drawn together as follows i

INTRODUCTION. 317

•• Richard, the third son. was in \vii and courage equal witu either of them, little of stature, ill-featured of limbs, crook-t>afked, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard-favoured of vis- age ; malicious, wrathful, envious, and from afore his birth ever frowart It is reported lhat he came into the world with the feet forward, and not untoothed ; whether men of hatred report above tin1 truth, or else that nature changed her course in his beginning, which in his life many things unnaturally committed. Free he was called of dispense, and somewhat above his power liberal : •vitli large gifts he gal him unsteadfast friendship, for which be was fain to pill and spoil in other places, and gat him steadfast hatred. He was close and secret, a deep dissembler, lowly of countenance, arrogant of heart ; outwardly companionable where he inwardly hated, not letting to kiss whom he thought to kill ; despiteous a.d cruel, not for evil will always, but oftener for am- bition, and either for the surety or increase of his estate." la another place he is spoken of thus : " His face was small, but such, that at the first aspect a man would judge it to savour an j smell of malice, fraud, and deceit. When he stood musing, he would bite and chaw his nether lip ; as who said, that his fierce nature in his cruel body always chafed, stirred, and was ever un- quiet : besides that, the dagger which he ware he would, when lie studied, with his hand pluck up and down in the sheath to the midst, never drawing it fully out." And elsewhere he is noted by the same writer as being inordinately fond of splendid and »howy dress, thus evincing an intense craving to be " look'd on in the world;" to till the eyes of men, and ride in triumph on their tongues.

It is evident that this furnished the matter and form of the Poet'i conception ; his character of Richard being little other than the historian's descriptive analysis reduced to dramatic life and ex pre.ssion. In accordance with Shakespeare's usual method, at our first meeting with Richard, in the Second Part, Act v. sc. 1, is suggested the first principle and prolific germ out of which his action is mainly evolved. He is called •• foul stigmatic," because the st'gma set on his person is both to others the handiest theme of reproach, and to himself the most annoying; like a huge boil on % man's face, which, because of its unsightliiiess, is the point that his enemies see most, and, because of its soreness, strike first. And his personal deformity is regarded not only as the proper oulshaping and physiognomy of a certain original malig- tity of soul, but as yielding the prime motive of his malignant dealing, in so far as this dealing proceeds from motive as distin- guished from impulse ; his shape having grown ugly because hit spirit was bad, and his spirit growing worse because of bis ugly ihape. For his ill-looks invite reproach, and reproach quickens and heightens his malice ; and because men hate to look on him, he therefore cares all the more to be looked on ; and as his aspect

313 THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.

repels admiration, he has no way to win ;t hut by power, tha* so fear may compel what inclination denies. Thus experience gen- erates in him a most inordinate lust of power ; and the circum- stantial impossibility of coming at this, save by crime, puts him upon such a course of intellectual training- and practice as may enable him to commit crimes, and still avoid the consequences, ihuj reversing the natural proportion between success and desert.

And his extreme vanity naturally results in a morbid sensitive- ness to any signs of neglect or scorn ; and these terms being es- pecially offensive and hurtful to himself, he therefore has the greater delight in venting them on others : as taunts and scoffs are a form of power which he feels most keenly, he thence grows to using them as an apt form whereby to make his power felt. For even so bad men naturally covet to be wielding upon others tne causes and instruments of their own sufferings. Hence the bitterly sarcastic humour which Richard indulges so freely arid with such prodigious effect; as in what he says to the Cliffords, at his first appearance in the play, and again in the dialogue that takes place over the dead body of the younger Clifford. Of course his sensitiveness is keenest touching the very particular wherein his vanity is most thwarted and wounded : he thinks of nothing so much as the ugliness that baiks his desire, and resents nothing so sharply as the opinion or feeling it arrays against him. Accordingly his first and heaviest shots of sarcasm are at those who were the first to twit him on that score. And in the scene where Prince Edward is killed, he seems unmoved till the prince hits him in that eye, when his wrath takes fire at once, and bursts out in the reply, — " By Heaven, brat, I'D plague you for that word."

All which indicates the cause of his being so prone to " descant on his own deformity : " his thoughts still brood upon it, because it is the sorest spot in his condition ; and because he never forgets it, therefore he is the more intent on turning it into the source of a dearer gratification than any it withholds from him, the con- sciousness, namely, of such an inward power as can hear him onward and upward in spite of such outward clogs. Thus the shame of personal disgrace, which in a good mind yields a pi motive and occasion of a sweet and virtuous life, in the case of Richard inverts itself into a most hateful and malignant form of pride, — the pride of intellectual force and mastery. Hence he comes to glory in the very matter of his shame, to exaggerate it, and hang over it, as serving to approve, to set off, and magnify the strength and fertility of wit whereby he is able to triumph over it; as who would say, — Nature indeed made me the scorn and reproach of men, nevertheless, I have proved too much for her, and made myself their wonder and applause ; and though my body be such that men could not bear the sight of me, yet I have managed to charm their eyes.

INTRODfCTId.N. 319

It should IK; remarked iliat Richard, steeped as he is in essential villainy, is aciunird by no sin-h •• motiveless malignity" as distin- guishes Inc^n. Cruel and unrelenting in pursuit of bis end, yet three iv no wanton and gratuitous cruelty in him : in all his crimes be has a purpose beyond the ait itself. Nor does he seem prop- erly to hate those whom he kills : they stand between him and his ruling passion, and he •• has neither pity, love, nor fear." that he ihonid blench or scruple to hew them out of the way. And be has a certain redundant, impulsive, restless activity of nature, that he never can hold still ; in virtue of which, as his thought seizes with amazing quickness and sureness where, and when, and how to cut. go he is equally sudden and sure of hand : the purpose flashes upon him, and be instantly dans to the crisis of performance, the thought setting bis whole being a-stir with executive transport. It is as if such an excess of life and energy had been rammed into hii little body, as to strain and bulge it out of chape.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KING HENRY THE SIXTH.

EDWARD, Prince of Wales, his Son.

LEWIS THE ELEVENTH, King of France.

HENRY BEAUFORT, Duke of Somerset,

HENRY HOLLAND, Duke of Exeter,

JOHN DE VEKE, Earl of Oxford, I T

PERCY, Earl of Northumberland,

NEVILLE, Earl of Westmoreland,

JOHN LORD CLIFFORD,

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York.

EDWARD, Earl of March, }

EDMUND, Earl of Rutland, > his Sons.

GEORGE, and RICHARD, )

JOHN MOWBRAY, Duke of Norfolk,

JOHN NEVILLE, Marquess of Montague,

RICHARD NEVILLE, Earl of Warwick, I v ..

WILLIAM HERBERT, Earl of Pembroke,

WILLIAM LORD HASTINGS,

HUMPHREY LORD STAFFORD,

SIR JOHN MORTIMER. ) TT ,

' > Uncles to the Duke of York. SIR HUGH MORTIMER, J

HENRY TUDOR, Earl of Richmond.

ANTHONY WooDViLLE,Earl Rivers, Brother to Lady Grey

SIR WILLIAM STANLEY. SIR JOHN MONTGOMERY.

SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE. Lieutenant of the Tower. May- or of York. Tutor to Rutland. A Nobleman. Two Keepers. A Huntsman. A Son that has killed his Fa- ther. A Father that has killed his Son.

MARGARET OF ANJOU, Queen to Henry VI. ELIZABETH, LADY GREY, afterwards Queen to Edward IV. LADY BON A, Sister to the French Queen.

Soldiers, and other Attendants on King Henry and King Edward, Messengers, Watchmen, &c.

SCENE, during part of the Third Act, in France ; during the rest of the Play, in England.

THIRD PART OF HENRY YI.

ACT I.

SCENE I London. The Parliament-House.

Drums, Some Soldiers of YORK'S Party break in. Then enter the Duke of YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Others, with white Roses in their Hats.

War. I WONDER how the king escap'd our hands York. While we pursued the horsemen of the northi Ho slily stole away, and left his men : Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheer'd up the drooping army ; and himself, Lord Clifford, and lord Stafford, all a-breast, Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.1

1 It was seen in Act v. sc.S. note 2, of the preceding play, thai the circumstances of old Clifford's death are here stated as they really were. As the representation is in both cases the same in the quarto as in the folio, it is obvious that on the principle of Malonc's reasoning this discrepancy proves the two parts of the quarto to have been by different hands. Of course the personal fight of York and Clifford in the former play was for dramatic effect ; and here the Poet probably fell back upon the historical facts without thinking of his preceding fiction. — In the proM-ni scene Shakespeare brings into close juxtaposition events that wen in fact more than five years asunder. The first battle of St. Al- bans was fought May 22, 1455, and the parliament at Westmin ster, whose proceedings are here represented, was opened Octo

322 THE THIRD PART ACT 1

Edw. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Bucking

ham,

Is either slain, or wounded dangerously : I cleft his beaver with a downright blow; That this is true, father, behold his blood.

[Showing his bloody Sword,

Mont. And, brother,2 here's the earl of Wiltshire's blood, [To YORK, showing his.

Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.

Rich, Speak thou for me, and tell them what 1

did. [Throwing down SOMERSET'S Head.

York. Richard hath best deserv'd of all my sons. —

But, is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset?

Norf. Such hope have all the line of John of

Gaunt ! Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's

head.

War. And so do I. — Victorious prince of York, Before I see thee seated in that throne Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, I vow by Heaven, these eyes shall never close : This is the palace of the fearful king, And this the regal seat ; possess it York ; For this is thine, and not King Henry's heirs'.

ber 7, 156C In October, 1459, the Yorkists had been dispersed, and the duke himself with his son Edmund had fled to Ireland ; but they soon rallied again, and in July, 1460, a terrible battle was fought at Northampton, wherein the Yorkists were again victorious, and got the king into their hands, and compelled him soon after to call the parliament in question. H.

* In this play York and Montague are made to address each other several times as brothers. Perhaps the Poet thought that John Neville, marquess of Montague, was brother to York's wife, wbnreas he was her nephew. Montague was brother to the earl of Warwick ; and the duchess of York, as stated in Act i. sc. 1, note 10, of the preceding play, was half-sister to their father, the earl of Salisbury. H.

SC. L OK HKNHY VI. 323

York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I

will ; For hither we have broken in by force.

Norf. We'll all assist you : he that flies shall die- Yuri;. Thanks, gentle Norfolk. — Stay by me, my

lords ; —

And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night. War. And, when the king comes, offer him no

violence, Unless he seek to thrust you out by force.

[They retire. York. The queen this day here holds her parlia

ment,

But little thinks we shall be of her council. By words or blows here let us win our right.

Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this

house.

War. The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, Unless Plantagenet, duke of York, be king, And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

York. Then leave me not, my lords ; be resolute : I mi-ail to take possession of my right.

War. Neither the king, nor he that loves him

best,

The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.3 I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares. — Resolve thee, Richard ; claim the English crown. [WARWICK leads YORK to the Throne, who scats himself.

3 The allusion is to falconry. Hawk* had sometimes little belli luirisr <>n them, perhaps to dare the birds ; that is. to fright them from rising. The quarto has " the proudest bird that hold* UD La \r;iNt«-r."

334 THE THIRD PART ACT L

Flourish. Enter King HENRY, CLIFFORD, NORTH- UMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and Otk- ersj with red Roses in their Hats.

King. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, Even in the chair of state ! belike, lie means (Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer) To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king. — Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father; And thine, lord Clifford ; and you both have vow'd

revenge

On him, his sons, Ids favourites, and his friends. North. If I be not, heavens be reveng'd on me ! Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in

steel. West. What ! shall we suffer this? let's pluck

him down : My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it.

King. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland. Clif. Patience is for poltroons, such as he : He durst not sit there had your father liv'd. My gracious lord, here in the parliament Let us assail the family of York.

North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin : be it so. King. Ah ! know you not the city favours them, And they have troops of soldiers at their beck? Exe. But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly

fly. King. Far be the thought of this from Henry's

heart,

To make a shambles of the parliament-house ! Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats, Shall be the war that Henry means to use. —

[They advance to the Dulu Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne,

sC I. OF HENRY VI. 32ft

And kneel for grace tind mercy at my feet: I ;un thy sovereign.

York. I am thine.4

Exe. For shame ! come down : he made the« duke of York.

York. 'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was/

Exe. Thy father was a traitor to the crown.

War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown, In following this usurping Henry.

Clif. Whom should he follow, but his natural king?

War. True, Clifford ; that is Richard, duke of York.

King. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne 1

York. It must and shall be so. Content thyself.

War. Be duke of Lancaster : let him be king.

West. He is both king and duke of Lancaster ; And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.

War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You for

get,

That we are those which chas'd you from the field, And slew your fathers, and with colours spread March'd through the city to the palace gates.

North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.

West. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons,

4 Before thct« words, Malone very needlessly thrust in " thou art dereiv'd," from the quarto, and subsequent editor* generally have followed him. H.

* The quarto reads " as the kingdom is." Why Shakespeare altered it, it is not easy to say, for the new line only exhibits the same meaning more obscurely. York means that the duktuom was bis inheritance from his father, as (he earldom of March was bin inheritance from his mother. His title to the crowu nas not u dtikc of York, but as earl of M.irch. and by naming that he eovettly asserts his right to the crown.

320 THE THIRD PART ACT I

Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives, Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.

Clif. Urge it no more ; lest that, instead of

words,

I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger, As shall revenge his deatli before I stir.

War. Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worthless threats !

York. Will you we show our title to the crown 1 If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.

King. What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown 1 Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York ; 6 Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, earl of March. I am the son of Henry the Fifth, Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop, And seiz'd upon their towns and provinces.

War. Talk not of France, sith7 thou hast lost it all.

• It will be remembered that his father was not duke of York, but earl of Cambridge, and that even that title was forfeited, leav- ing the present duke plain Richard Plantagenet, until he was ad vanced by the present king. Accordingly, Exeter has said, a few lines before, — " He made thee duke of York." So that here we have another discrepancy, and that not in different plays or scenes, but in different parts of the same scene. H.

7 Since; a contraction of silhence. — The following extracts from the Chronicles will show the historical basis of these pro- ceedings. « During the time of this parlement, the duke of Yoike with a bold countenance entered into the chamber of tne peeies, and sat downe in the throne roiall, under the cloth of estate, which is the kings peculiar seat, and in the presence of the nobilitie, a* well spiritual! as temporal!, after a pause made, he began to de- clare his title to the crowne." Then follows the speech which York was said to have made, after which the chroniclers add, — " When the duke had made an end of his oration, the lords sal still as men striken into a certeine amazednesse. neither whisper- ing nor speaking foorth a word, as though their motithos had been Bowed up. The duke, not verie well content with their silence, nd vised them to consider ihroughlie, and ponder tne whole effect of his words and saietigs ; and so neither fullie displeased, nor

»C. 1. OF HENRY VI. 'Mi

Kins- The lord protector lost it, and not I : Wlu-ii I was crown'd, I was but nine months old. Rich. You are old enough now, and yet, methinka,

you lose. —

Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. Edto. Sweet father, do so: set it on your head. Mont. [To YORK.] Good brother, as thou lov'st

and honour's! arms,

Let's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. Rirk. Sound drums and trumpets, and the king

will fly.

York. Sons, peace ! King. Peace, thou ! and give Ring Henry leave

to speak. War. Plantagenet shall speak first : — hear him,

lords ;

And he you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him shall not live.

King. Think'st thou, that I will leave my kingly

throne,

Wherein my grandsire and my father sat? No : first shall war unpeople this my realm ; Ay, and their colours — often borne in France, And now in England, to our heart's great sorrow — Shall be my winding-sheet. — Why faint you, lords 1 My title's good, and better far than his.

Wa-. Prove it, Henry, and thou shall be king.

yet altogether content, departed to his lodging in the kings palace. The lords forgot not the dukes demand, and, to take some direc- tion therein, diverse of them as spiritual! and temporal), with mania grave and sage persons of the commonaltie, dailie assembled at the Blackefriers and other places, to treat of this matter. During which time the duke of Yorke, although he and the king were both lodged in the palace of Westminster, would not for anie praiers or requests once visit the king, till some conclusion were taken in this matter ; saieng that he was subject to no man, but onlj to God, under whose mercie none here guperioor but he." R

U28 THE THIRD PART ACT I.

King. Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.

York. 'Twas by rebellion against his king.

King. [Aside.] I know not what to say : my

title's weak. — Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?

York. What then?

King. An if he may, then am I lawful king ; For Richard, in the view of many lords, Resign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth ; Whose heir my father was, and I am his.

York. He rose against him, being his sovereign. And made him to resign his crown perforce.

War. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain'd> Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown ? 9

Exe. No ; for he could not so resign his crown. But that the next heir should succeed and reign.

King. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter?

Exe. His is the right, and therefore pardon me.

York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?

Exe. My conscience tells me he is lawful king.

King. All will revolt from me, and turn to him.

North. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, Think not that Henry shall be so depos'd.

War. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all.

North. Thou art deceiv'd : 'tis not thy southern

power, —

Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,— Can set the duke up, in despite of me.

Clif. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence :

• That is, to the general rights of hereditary royalty.

SC. I. OF HENRY VI. 32U

May tlmt ground gape, and swallow me alive, Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father! King. O Clifford ! how thy words revive my

heart !

York. Henry of Lancaster, resign the crown. — What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?

War. Do right unto this princely duke of York, Or I will fill the house with armed men, And o'er the chair of state, where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood.

[He stamps, and the Soldiers show themselves. King. My lord of Warwick, hear but one word : — Let me for this my life-time reign as king.

York. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine

heirs,

And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'sU King. I am content : Richard Plantagenct, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.

Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince your

son !

War. What good is this to England, and him- self!

West. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry ! Clif. How hast thou injur'd both thyself and

us!

West. I cannot stay to hear these articles. North. Nor I. Clif. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these

news. West. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate

king, In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.

North. Be thou a prey unto the house of York, And die in bands for this unmanly deed !

330 THE THIRD PART ACT 1

Clif. In dreadful war may'st thou be overcome ! Or live in peace, abandon'd and despis'd !

[Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD, and

WESTMORELAND. War. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them

not. Exe. They seek revenge,9 and therefore will not

yield.

King. Ah, Extter !

War. Why should you sigh, my lord?

King. Not for myself, lord Warwick, but my son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. But, be it as it may, I here entail The crown to thee, and to thine heirs forever ; Conditionally, that here thou take an oath, To cease this civil war, and wliilst I live To honour me as thy king and sovereign ; And neither by treason, nor hostility, To seek to put me down, and reign thyself.

York. This oath I willingly take, and will pei form. [Coming from the Throne.

War. Long live King Henry ! — Plantagenet,

embrace him. King. Arid long live thou, and these thy forward

sons !

York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcilM. Exe. Accurs'd be he, that seeks to make them foes ! 10 [Sennet. T/te Lords come forward.

9 " They go away, not because they doubt the justice of this determination, but because they have been conquered, and seek to be revenged. They are not influenced by principle, but pas- sion." — Johnson.

10 The terms of this compromise are thus given in Hall and Holinshed : " After long debating of the matter amongest the peeres, prelats, and commons, upon the vigill of All-saints it wag condescended, for so much as king Heurie had becne taken at

SC. I. OIT HENRY VI. 331

York. Farewell, my gracious lord : III to my

castle."

War. And I'll keep London with my soldiers. Norf. And I to Norfolk with my followers. Mont. And I unto the sea, from whence I came [Exeunt YORK, and his Sons, WARWICK NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, Soldiers, ajid Ai tendants. King. And 1, with grief and sorrow, to the court

Enter Queen MARGARET and Prince EDWARD.

Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks be- wray IS her anger : I'll steal away.

King. Exeter, so will I. [Going.

Queen. Nay, go not from me ; I will follow thee.

King. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay.

Queen* Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man! would I had died a maid,

king by ihe space of thirtie and eight yeares and more, that he should injoy the name and title of king, and have possession of the realme during his natural! lite. And if he either died, or re- signed, or forfeited the same by breaking or going against anie point of this concord, then the said crowne and authorilie roiall should immediately be devolutcd and come to the duke of Yorke, if he then lived ; or else to the next heire of his linage. And thit the duke of Yorke from thense foorth should he protectonr and regent nf the land. This agreement, put in articles, was m- grossod, sealed, and sworne unto bv the two parlies, mid also enacted in the parlement. For joy whereof the king, having in oi.s companie the duke of Yorke, rode to the cathedral! church of saint 1'aule in London, and there on the day of All-saints with the cripwne on his head went solemnlie in procession, and was lodged a good space in the bishops palace, neere to the said churrh. And upon the Saturdaie next insuing, Richard duke of Yorke was by sound of trumpet solemnlie proclaimed heire apparent to the crnwne of England, and prolectour of the realme." All-fainU day is November 1. H.

11 Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire.

" Bnrray is an old form of betray, meaning to discover

332 THE THIRD PART ACT I

And never seen thee, never born« thee son, Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father ! Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus ? Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I, Or felt that pain which I did for him once, Or nourish 'd him, as I did with my blood, Thou would'st have left thy dearest heart-bit od there, llather than have made that savage duke thine heir, And disinherited thine only son.

Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me : [f you be king, why should not I succeed!

King. Pardon me, Margaret ; — pardon me, sweet

son : — The earl of Warwick and the duke enforc'd me.

Queen. Enforc'd thee ! art thou king, and wilt

be forc'd?

I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch ! Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me, And given unto the house of York such head, As thou shall reign but by their sufferance. 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 13 commands the narrow seas ;

13 This was Thomas, natural son of William Neville Lord Faulcontiridge, who was uncle to Warwick and Montague. This Thomas Neville, says Hall, was " a man of no lesse corage than audacilie, who for his cruel condicions was such an apte person, that a more meter could not be chosen to set all the world in a hroyle, and to put the estate of the realme on an ill hazard." He had been appointed by Warwick vice admiral of the sea. and nad in charge so to keep the passage between Dover and Calais, that none which either favoured King Henry or his friends should es- cape untaken or qndrowned : such at least were his instruction* with respect to the friends and favourers of King Edward alter the rupture between him and Warwick. On Warwick's dc-ath he feil into poverty, and robbed, both by sea and land, as \vi:ll frii-uds

SC. I. OF HENRY VI. J«J

The duke is made protector of the realm ;

And yet shnlt thou be safe? such safety finds

'1'lic trembling lamb, environed with wolves.

Had I been there, which am a silly woman,

The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes,

Brl'nre I would have granted to that act.

But ihou preferr'st thy life before thine honour:

And, seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself,

Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,

Until that act of parliament be repeal'd,

Wfaenby my son is disinherited.

The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colours,

Will follow mine, if once they see them spread ;

And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace,

And utter ruin of the house of York.

Thus do I leave thee. — Come, son, let's away.

Our army is ready ; come, we'll after them.

King. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.

Queen. Thou hast spoke too much already : get thee gone.

King. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?

Queen. Ay, to be murder'd by his enemies.

Prince. When I return with victory from the field, I'll see your grace ; till then, I'll follow her.

Queen. Come, son ; away ! we may not linger thus. [Exeunt Queen MARGARET and the Prince.

as enemies. He once brought his chips tip the Thames, and with a considerable body of the men of Kent and Essex, made a spir- ited assault on the city, with a view lo plunder and pillage, which was not repelled but after a sharp conflict, and the loss of many lives ; and. bad it happened at a more critical period, might have been attended with fatal consequences to Edward. After roving on the sea some little timn linger, he ventured to land at Sootb ampton, where he was takei and l>c!it-ii<le<l.

King. Poor queen ! how love to me, and to he/

son,

Hath made her break out into terms of rage ! lleveng'd may she be on that hateful duke, Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will coast my crown, and like an empty eagle Tire on the flesh of me,14 and of my son ! The loss of those three lords 1S torments my heart I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair. — Come, cousin ; 16 you shall be the messenger.

Exe. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.

[Exeunt

•

** To tire is to tear, to feed like a bird of prey ; from the 4nglo Saxon tirian. Thus in the Poet's Venus and Adonis :

" Even as an empty eagle, sharp by fast, Tires with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone."

15 That is, of Northumberland, Westmoreland, and Clifford who had left him in disgust.

16 Henry Holland, the present duke of Exeter, was cousin ger man to the king, his grandfather, John Holland, earl of Hunting- don and duke of Exeter in the time of Richard II., having mar- ried Elizabeth Plantagenet, daughter to John of Ghent by his first wife. The earldom of Huntingdon was his inheritance, and he was created duke of Exeter in 14-14, at the same time that Suf- folk was made marquess. His grandfather, the first earl of Hun- tingdon in that line, was half-brother to Richard II., being son to Joan the Fair Maid of Kent by her first husband, Sir Thomas Holland. He was made duke of Exeter by King Richard iu 1397, his brother Thomas and Henry of Bolingbroke being at the same time made dukes of Surrey and Hereford ; but, being a fast friend to Richard, he was deprived of that title in 1399, soon after Bolingbroke mounted the throne ; and, being engaged in the first conspiracy against that king, was taken and beheaded the next year. However, his son John, the second earl of Huntingdon, was in favour with Henry V., and was with liiai in France. Se« King Richard II., Act i. sc. 3, note 1, and King Henry V., Act v sc. 2, note 9. a

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 336

SCENE II. A Room in Sandal Castle, near Wakefield.

Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGU*.

Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give me

leave.

Edw. No ; I can better play the orator. Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible.

Enter YORK.

York. \V hy , how now, sons and brother ! at a

strife ?

What is your quarrel? how began it first? Edw. No quarrel, but a slight contention. York. About what? Rich. About that which concerns your grace, and

us ;

The crown of England, father, which is yours. York. Mine, boy? not till King Henry be dead. Rich, Your right depends not on his life, or death. Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now : By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end.

York. I took an oath that he should quietly reign. Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be bro- ken :

I would break a thousand oaths, to reign one year. Rich. No ; God forbid your grace should be

forsworn.

York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear ma •peak.

5550 THE THIRD PAR1 ACT L

York. Thou canst not, son ; it ie impossible.

Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate,1 That hath authority over him that swears : Henry had none, but did usurp the place : Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore, to arms ! And, father, do but think How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown, Within whose circuit is Elysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest, Until the white rose that I wear be dyed Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.

York. Richard, enough ; I will be king, or die. - Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this enterprise. — Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk, And tell him privily of our intent. — You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, With whom the Rentishmen will willingly rise : In them I trust ; for they are soldiers, Witty2 and courteous, liberal, full of spirit. — While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, But that I seek occasion how to rise ; And yet the king not privy to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster?

1 The obligation of an oath is here eluded by a very blo sophistry. A lawful magistrate alone has the power to exact an rath, but the oath derives no part of its force from the magis- trate. The plea against the obligation of an oath obliging to maintain a usurper, (taken from the unlawfulness of the oath it self,) in the foregoing play, was rational and just. — Johnson.

* Witty is here used in its original sense of intelligent 01

H.

UC. II. OF HENHY VI. 337

Enter a Messenger.*

But, stay! — What news? Why com'st thou m

such post ? Miff. The queen, with all the northern earls and

lords,

Intend here to besiege you in your castle :4 She is hard by with twenty thousand men ; And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.

York. Ay, with my sword. What ! think'st thou

that we fear them ? —

Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me : My brother Montague shall post to London : Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left protectors of the kin^, With powerful policy strengthen themselves, And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths.6

* The folio reads " Enter Gabriel." It was the name of the actor, probably Gahriel Singer, who played this insignificant part. The emendation is from the quarto.

4 I know not whether the author intended any moral instruc- tion, but he that reads this has a striking admonition against pre cipilaiicy.by which we often use unlawful means to do that which a little delay would put honestly in our power. Had York stayed but a few moments, he had saved his cause from the stain of per- jury. — Joh nson.

' From the hollow reconciliation signified in note 10 of the fore- going scene, both parties went directly to preparing for war. The preliminaries to the battle of Wakefield, which followed soon after, are thus delivered in the Chronicles : "The duke of Yorke, well knowing that the aueene would spume against all this, caused both hir and hir sonne to be sent for by the king. But she, as woont rather to rule than be ruled, not onelie denied to come, but assembled a great armie, intending to take the king by force out of the lords hands. The protectour in London, having knowl- edge of all these dooings, assigned the duke of Norflblke, and erle of Warwick, his trustie frcends, to be about the king, whiles he vnili the carles of Salisburie and Rutland, and a convenient number, departed out of London the second daie of Decembei jorthw.ini. and appointee (he carlo of March, his eldest sonne. to

333 THE THIRD PART AC1 1

Mont. Brother, I go ; I'll win them, fear it not , And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [Exit.

Enter Sir JOHN and Sir HUGH MORTIMER,

York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine.

uncles !

You are come to Sandal in a happy hour ; The army of the queen mean to besiege us.

Sir John. She shall not need ; we'll meet her in

the field.

York. What ! with five thousand men ? Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general ; what should we fear ?

[A March afar off. Edw. I hear their drums : let's set our men In

order, And issue forth, and bid them battle straight.

York. Five men to twenty! — though the odds

be great,

I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France, When as the enemy hath been ten to one : Why should I not now have the like success ?

[Alarum. Exeunt.

follow him with all his power. The duke came to his castell of Sandall beside Wakefield on Christmasse eeven, and there began to make muster of his tenants and freends. The queene, thereof ascerteined, determined to cope with him yer his succour were come. Having in hir companie the prince hir sonne, the dukes of Excester and Summerset, the lord Clifford', and in effect all the lords of the north parts, with eighteene thousand men, she marched from Yorke to Wakefield, and bad base to the duke, even before his castell gales." — Prince Edward was at that time in his eighli year having been born October 13, 1453. H.

5C. 111. OF HENKT VI. 339

SCENE III. Plains near Sandal Castle.

Alarums : Excursions. Enter RUTLAND and hit

Tutor. Rut. Ah ! whither shall I fly to 'scape theii

hands ? Ah, tutor ! look, where bloody Clifford comes !

Enter CLIFFORD and Soldiers. Clif. Chaplain, away ! thy priesthood saves thy

life.

As for the brat of this accursed duke, Whose1 father slew my father, — he shall die. Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. Clif. Soldiers, away with him. Tut. Ah, Clifford ! murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man.

[Exit, forced off by Soldi ITS. CKf. How now ! is he dead already 1 Or, is it

fear,

That makes him close his eyes? — I'll open them Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws : And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey, And so he comes to rend liis limbs asunder. — Ah ! gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a crurl threatening look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die : I am too mean a subject for thy wrath ; Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak 'st, poor boy : my fa- ther's blood

1 Of eoane vhott refer* to brat, not to

340 THE THIRD PART ACT L

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.

Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again : He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif- Had I thy brethren here, their lives and

thine

Were not revenge sufficient for me : No ; if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves, And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of York Is as a fury to torment my soul ; And till I root out their accursed line, And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore —

Rut. O ! let me pray before I take rny death :- To thee I pray ; sweet Clifford, pity me !

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

Rut. I never did thee harm : Why wilt thou slay me?

Clif. Thy father hath.

Rut. But 'twas ere I was born.1

1 Rutland was born May 17, 1443 ; the battle of St. Albans, where Clifford's father was killed, took place May 22, 14&> : at that time, therefore, Rutland was in his thirteenth year, and in his eighteenth at the time of his death, December 30, 1460. How- ever, Hall and Holinshed make him to have been seven at the former time and twelve at the latter. The " one son " of the present Lord Clifford was named Henry, and, says Holinshed, " was brought up with a sheepheard in poore habit, ever in feare to be knowne, till king Henrie the seventh obteined the crowne, by whom he was restored to his name and possessions." He is the subject of Wordsworth's Song at the Feast of Brougham Cna- lie, one of the grandest lyrics ever penned, which closes thus :

" Glad were the vales, and every cottage hearth ; The Shepherd-lord was honoured more and more ; And, ages after he was laid in earth, 4 The good Lei 1 Clifford ' was the name he bore." H.

«C. III. OF IIKNHY VI. 341

Thou bait one son ; for his sake pity me,

I.c-i, in n-\fiiir«- thereof, sith liod is just,

lie be as miserably shun as I.

AJi ! let me live in prison all my days ;

And when I give occasion of offence,

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.

Clif. No cause? Thy father slew my father ; therefore, die.

[CLIFFORD 5/065 him.

Rut. Dii facioHti laudis summa sit ista tuce ! *

[Diet

Clif. Plantagenet ! I come, Plantagenet ! And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.

[Ex*.

3 This scrap of Latin occurs in Ovid's Epistle from Phillis to Demophoon. It appeared first in the folio ; hut as Malone would •eeds argue that the original play was not Shakespeare's, from its having' sever, d Latin quotation*, he did not see fit to adorn this line with a star. — This savage slaughter of Rutland is thus re- lated by Hall : •> Whilst this battle was in fighting, a priest called Sir Robert Aspall. chaplain and schoolmaster to the young earl of Rutland, perceiving that flight was more safeguard than tarry- ing, both for himself and his master, secretly conveyed the earl out of the field, by the lord Clifford's band, towards the town : but ere he could enter into a house be was by the said lord Clif- ford espied, followed, and taken, and by reason of his apparel de- manded what he was. The young gentleman, dismayed, had not a word to speak, but kneeled on bis knees imploring mercy, and desiring grace, both with holding up his hands and making dolo rous countenance ; for his spoech was gone for fear. Save him, said bis chaplain, for he is a prince's son, and peradvcuture may do 3*011 good hereafter. With that word, the lord Clifford marked him. and said, I'.y God's blood, thy father slew mine, and so 1 will do thee and all thy kin : and with that word he struck the earl to the heart with his dagger, and bade his chaplain bear the earl'i mother and brother word what be had said and done." H.

342 THE THIRD PART ACT L

SCENE IV. The same.

Alarum. Enter YORK.

York. The army of the queen hath got the field My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ; And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves. My sons — God knows what hath bechanced them ; But this I know, — they have demean 'd themselves Like men born to renown by life or death. Three times did Richard make a lane to me ; And thrice cried, " Courage, father ! fight it out ! ** And full as oft came Edward to my side, With purple falchion, painted to the hilt In blood of those that had encounter'd him : And when the hardiest warriors did retire, Richard cried, " Charge ! and give no foot of

ground ! "

And cried, " A crown, or else a glorious tomb ' " " A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre ! " With this we charg'd again ; but, out, alas ! We bodg'd ' again ; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide,

1 Bodged is probably the same as budged, from bouger, French. Steevens thought that it was the same as boggled, that is, made bad or bungling' work of the attempt to rally. But the following passage, in which Coriolanus speaks of his army who had fled from their adversaries, seems decisive :

" The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge From rascals worse than they."

Coles renders " To budge, pedem referre," to retreat, the tens* required here.

- IV. OF HENRY VI. 343

And spend her strcii^rlli with ovprmatrhiiig waves.

[A short Alarum within. Ah, hark ! the fatal followers do pursue, And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury ; And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury. The sands are number'd, that make up my life ; Here must I stay, and here my life must end.*

Enter Queen MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBEB- LAND, and Soldiers.

Come, bloody Clifford, — rough Northumberland,—

1 dare your quenchless fury to more rage :

' am your butt, and I abide your shot.

North. Yield to our mercy, proud PlantageneU Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm

With downright payment show'd unto my father.

N-JW Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,

And made an evening at the noontide prick.8

York. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth

A bird that will revenge upon you all ;

And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,

Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.

Why come you not! what! multitudes, and fear?

» The story of this battle is thus told in the Chronicles : " T\M duke of Summerset and the queenes part appointed the lord Clif- ford to lie in one stale, and the earle of Wiltshire in another, and the duke with the other to keepe the maine hattell. The duke of Yorke descended downe the hill in good order and arraie ; but when he was in the plaine betweene his castell and the towne of Wnkefield, he was invironed on everie side, like fish in a net, so that, though he fought manfullie, yet was he within halfe an houre •laine, and bis whole armie discomfited. With him died his two bastard uncles, sir John and sir Hugh Mortimer, and two thousand and eight hundred others, whereof manic were yoong gentlemen, ami heirs of great parentage in the south parts, whose kin revenged their deaths within four months next." B

1 Noontide point on the dial.

344 THE THIRD PART ACT 1.

Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no fur

ther ;

So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons ; So desperate tliieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.

York. O, Clifford ! but bethink thee once again, And in thy thought o'errun my former time ; And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face, And bite thy tongue that slanders him with coward

ice,

Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word, But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.

[Draws- Queen. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand

causes

I would prolong a while the traitor's life. — Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumber- land. North. Hold, Clifford ! do not honour him so

much,

To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart : What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is war's prize to take all vantages, And ten to one is no impeach of valour.

[They lay Hands on YORK, wlio struggles. Clif. Ay, ay ; so strives the woodcock with the

gin. North. So doth the coney struggle in the net.

[YORK is taken prisoner York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd

booty; So true men yield, with robbers so o'ermatch'd.

SC IV. OF HEN11Y VI. .345

North. What would your grace have done unto

him now ?

Queen. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northum- berland,

Come make him stand upon this molehill here, That raught4 at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. — What ! was it you that would be England's king ? Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, And made a preacliment of your high descent? Where are your mess of sons to back you now ? The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, Dicky, your boy, that with his grumbling voice Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Rutland? Look, York : I stain'd this napkin * with the blood That valiant Clifford with liis rapier's point Made issue from the bosom of the boy ; And, if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. Alas, poor York ! but that I hate thee deadly, I should lament thy miserable state. I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York: What ! hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine en- trails,

That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? Why art thou patient, man ? thou should'st be mad ; And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.*

4 Ruufht is the old preterite of the verb to reach

* Handkerchief.

• In Maloue's Shakespeare by Boswell, this line is misplaced; twing printed, as in the quarto, next afier the line, — " I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York." From thence the misplace- ment has been propagated into divers Inter editions, the Chiswich

£46 THE THIRD PART ACT t

Thou would'st be feed, I see, to make me sport : York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown. — A crown for York ! — and, lords, bow low to him.— Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on. —

[Putting a paper Crmon on his Head. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king ! Ay, this is he that took King Henry's chair; And this is he was his adopted heir. — But how is it that great Plantagenet Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? As I bethink me, you should not be king, Till our King Henry had shook hands with death. And will you pale7 your head in Henry's glory, And rob his temples of the diadem, Now in his life, against your holy oath? O ! 'tis a fault too, too unpardonable ! — Off with the crown ! and, with the crown, his head . And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.1

among others. It need scarce be said that the line fits better where it stands in the folio. H.

7 Impale, encircle with a crown.

8 The piece of exquisite inhumanity, which furnished the basis of this scene, is thus narrated in the Chronicles : " The same lord Clifford came to the place where the dead corpse of the duke of Yorke laie, caused his head to be striken off, and set on it a crowne of paper, fixed it on a pole, and presented it to the queene, not lieng farre from the field, in great despite ; at which great rejois- ing was showed: but they laughed then that shortlie after la- mented, and were glad then of other mens deaths, that knew nol their owne to be so neere at hand." Thus far Holinshed copie* Hall, and then adds the following : " Some write that the duke was taken alive, and in derision caused to stand upon a molehill ; on whose head they put a garland in steed of a crowne, which they had fashioned and made of sedges or bulrushes ; and. Lav- ing so crowned him, they kneeled downe afore him, as the Jewes did unto Christ, in scorne, saieng to him, — ' Haile. king without rule, haile, king without heritage, haile, duke and prince with- out people or possessions.' And at length, having thus scorned nim with these and diverse other the like despitefull words, they stroke off his head, which they presented to the queene." It

3C. IV. OF HF.NRY VI. 347

Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. Qinrii. \:iv, >t;iy ; let's hear the orisons he makes. 1 'tirk. She wolf of France, but worse than wolves

of France,

Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth ! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex, To triumph, like an Amazonian trull, Upon their woes whom fortune captivates ! But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush . To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriv'd, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not

shameless.

Thy father bears the type of king of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem ; Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ? It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen ; Unless the adage must be veri6ed, — That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. Tis beauty that doth oft make women proud •, But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small : 'Tis virtue that doth make them most admir'd ; The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at : 'Tis government that makes them seem divine ; The want thereof makes thee abominable : Thou art as opposite to every good, As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the septentrion.

«hould be remarked, further, that Holinshed look this account from Whethamstede, who, as we have seen in Act iii. sc. 2, note 1, of the preceding play, was a bitter enemy to the Lancastrians. It should be noted, in justice to womanhood, that according to the latter account the queen had no part in the blasphemous mockery of the living duke u

348 THE THIRD PART ACT L

O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide .' How could'st thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible ; Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless Bidd'st thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy

wish: Would'st have me weep 1 why, now thou hast thy

will:

For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies ; And every drop cries vengeance for his death, 'Gainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwo

man.

North. Beshrew me, but his passions move me so, That hardly can I check my eyes from tears.

York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd

with blood :

But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, O ! ten time more, than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears : This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this ; And, if thou tell'st the heavy story right, Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, And say, — " Alas, it was a piteous deed ! " — There, take the crown, and, with the crown, mj

curse ;

And in thy need such comfort come to thee, As now I reap at thy too cruel hand ! —

SC. IV. OF HENRY VI. 349

Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world : My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads !

North. Had he been slaughterman to all my kin, I should not for my life but weep with him, To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.

Queen. What ! weeping-ripe, my lord Northum

berland ?

Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.

Clif. Here's for my oath ; here's for my father a

death. [Stabbing him.

Queen. And here's to right our gentle-hearted

king. [Stabbing him.

York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God !

My soul flies through these wounds to seek out

Thee. [Dies,

Queen. Off with his head, and set it on York

gates; So York may overlook the town of York.'

[Exeunt

* So in Holinshed : " After this victorie, the earle of Salisburifl and all the prisoners were sent to Pomfret, and there beheaded , whose heads, together with the duke of Yorkes head, were con- veiecl to Yorke, and there set on poles over the gate of the city." — All, it should seem, must needs agree that this scene is one of the very best in the whole play. Its logic and its pathos arc em- inently Shakespearian ; and the colouring of Margaret bespeaks, throughout, the same hand which, after a few years more of prac- tice, wrought out the terrible portrait of lady Macbeth. Yet of the 180 lines which the scene contains, only 26 were altered from the quarto, and 19 added in the folio. And of those additions Id lines are in York's speech at the beginning, while many of the alterations are of a very trifling kind, such as the following :

Quarto. " So doves do peck the ravtn't piercing talons." Folio. "So doves do peck the falcon'* piercing talons." Quarto. " That nim'ii at mountains with outstretched arm." Folio. " That raught at mountains with outstretched arm*." Qtarto. " Look, York : 1 dipp'd this napkin in the blood." Friio. " Look, York : I ttain'd this napkin with the blood

350 THE THIRD PART ACT II.

ACT II.

SCENE I. A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in Herefordshire.

Drums. Enter EDWARD and RICHARD, with t/ieir Power.

Edw. I wonder how our princely father 'scap'd Or whether he be 'scaped away, or no, From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit ; Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news ; Had he been slain, we should have heard the news ; Or, had he 'scap'd, metliinks, we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape. — How fares my brother ? why is he so sad 1

Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about, And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a lion in a herd of neat : '

Quarto. " Is crown'd so soon, and broke his holy oath." Folio. " Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath."

Moreover, nearly all the pith, marrow, and spirit of the scene are in the quarto, there being even less of improvement than of en- largement in the folio. And yet, according to the more current notion, of this, undoubtedly the most Shakespearian scene bul onu in the play, only 19 lines were original with Shakespeare ; if, in deed, that can be called originality, which gives no n*»w thoughts, but merely amplifies the old. And Malone's celebrated argument was to vindicate Shakespeare from the reproach of having written, into the honour of having stolen, the 161 lines of this scene, either taken whole or slightly altered from the quarto! H.

1 Neat, says Richardson, " seems properly to denote horned tattle, from the A. S. Hnit-an, cornu petere, to butt or strike wiU the ho~n *' n.

3C. I. OF HENRY VI. 35 1

Or as a hear, encompnse'd round with dogg ; Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. So far'd our father with his enemies ; So fled his enemies my warlike father : Methinks, 'tis prize* enough to be his son. See, how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ! * How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love ! Edw. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns 1 Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun, Not separated with the racking clouds,4 But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. See, see ! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vow'd some league inviolable : Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun! In tliis the heaven figures some event.4

* Prize is evidently used here in the sense of priri/fge, or the thing prized ; as in the preceding scene : " It is war's prize to take all vantages." H.

3 Aurora takes for a time her farewell of the sun, when she dismisses hint to his diurnal course.

4 Racking is moving like vapour or smoke. The original of the word is reek. Rack, noun, however, formerly meant the high- est and therefore lightest clouds ; and perhaps the verb is here used in the sense of the noun. See The Tempest. Ad iv. sc. 1. note 16. So, also, in Antony and Cleopatra, Act iv.sc. 12 : "That, Oiirh is now a horse, even with a thought the rack dislimns. and

makes it indistinct." And in Beaumont and Fletcher s Women Pleased, Act iv. sc. 2 : " Far swifter than the sailing rack thai gallops upon the wings of angry winds." H.

* The battle of Mortimer's Cross took place February 2, 14151, and the event of the text is spoken of by the chroniclers as having happened on the morning of that day : " At which lime the (mine, as some write, appeared lo the earle of March like thrre simiics. and suddeulie joined altogither in one. Upon which sight he looke such courage, that he tiercelie setting on his enimie.s put them to flight : and for this cause men imagined, that he gave the eunne in his ful brighinesse for li's badge or cognizance.'* u

352 THE THIRD PART ACT II

Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange ; the like yet never

heard of.

I think it cites us, brother, to the field; That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, Each one already blazing by our meeds,8 Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together, And overshine the earth, as this the world. Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear Upon my target three fair shining suns.

Rich. Nay, bear three daughters : by your leave

I speak it ; You love the breeder better than the male

Enter a Messenger.

But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?

Mess. Ah ! one that was a woeful looker on, When as the noble duke of York was slain, Your princely father, and my loving lord.

Edw. O, speak no more ! for I have heard tuo much.

Riclt. Say how he died, for I will hear it all.7

Mess. Environed he was with many foes; And stood against them as the hope of Troy8 Against the Greeks, that would have enter'd Troy But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. By many hands your father was subdued ;

6 Meed anciently signified merit as well as reward ; and is so explained by Cotgrave, Phillips, and others. See Richard II., Act i. sc. 3, note 11.

7 The generous tenderness of Edward, and savage fortitude of Richard, are well distinguished by their different reception of their father's death.

" The hope of Troy was Hector.

SC. .. (IK HKNRY VI. 353

But only slaufjhter'd by the ireful arm

Of uiin-lriitin"- Clifford, and tlie queen;

Who crownM the gracious duke in high despite;

Lauuh'd i" his face ; and, when with grief he wept,

The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks,

A napkin steeped in the harmless hlood

Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain •

And, after many scorns, many foul taunts,

They took his head, and on the gates of York

They set the same ; and there it doth remain,

The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.9

Echo. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean

upon,

Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. — O Clifford ! boisterous Clifford ! thou hast slain The flower of Europe for his chivalry ; And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee. — Now my soul's palace is become a prison : Ah, would she break from hence ! that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest;

' \Ve subjoin this speech as it is in the qunrto. It will be seei that ilit> classical allusions were new in the folio. •• When as the noble duke was put to dig-lit, And then pursued by Clifford and the queen, And many soldiers more, who all at once Let drive at him. and forc'd the duke to yield : And then they set him on a molehill there. And crowu'd the gracious duke in high despite, Who then with tears began to wail his fall. The ruthless queen, perceiving he did weep, Gave him a handkerchief to wipe his eyes, Dipp'd in the blood of sweet young Rutland, By rough Clifford slain : who weeping took it up. Then through his breast they thrust their bloody iwcrd*, Who like a lamb fell at the butchers' feet. Then on the gates of York they set his head, Ami there it doth remain, the piteous spectacle Thut e'er mine eyes beheld." •

,'354 THE THIRD PART ACT IL

For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, O ! never shall 1 see more joy.

Rich. I cannot weep, for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart , Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, Is kindling coals that fire all my breast, And burn me up with flames that tears would quench. To weep is to make less the depth of grief: Tears, then, for babes ; blows, and revenge, for me ! — Richard, I bear thy name ; I'll venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it.

Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with

thee ; His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun : For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say ; Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his.

March. Enter WARWICK and MONTAGUE, with their Army.

War. How now, fair lords ! What fare 1 what news abroad ?

Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should re- count

Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance Stab poniatds in our flesh till all were told, The words would add more anguish than the wounds. O, valiant lord ! the duke of York is slain.

Edw. O Warwick ! Warwick ! that Plantagenet, "Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death.

War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears ; And now, to add more measure to your woes.

»0. I. UK HF.MIY VI. 355

I come to tell you th'mgs since then befiillen. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father hrcath'd his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. I, then in London, keeper of the king, Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, And, very well appointed, as I thought,10 Maroh'd towards St. Albans to intercept the queen, Bearing the king in my behalf along; For by my scouts I was advertised, That she was coming with a full intent To dash our late decree in parliament, Touching King Henry's oath, and your succession. Short tale to make, — we at St. Albans met, Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought . But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, That robb'd my soldiers of their heated " spleen; Or whether 'twas report of her success, Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Who thunders to his captives blood and death; I cannot judge : but, to conclude with truth, Their weapons like to lightning came and went; Our soldiers' — like the night-owl's lazy flight, Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail — Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. 1 cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,

10 \\'f rc.nrnr with Knight and others in retaining this line, though it is not in the folio. Mr. Collier rejects it, as not being necessary to the sense ; but surely, though not necessary, it is serviceable. And, a< Mr. Dyre remarks, "the want of and between mnster'd and march'd goes far to prove that the line was omitted in the <blio by an error of the printer.'' H.

11 All the old copies have hratrd, which modem editors hare most unreasonably changed to hated. u.

'356 THE TH1KD PART ACT tt

With promise of high pay, and great rewards : But all in vain : they had no heart to fight, And we, in them, no hope to win the day; So that we fled, the king unto the queen, Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; For in the marches here, we heard, you were, Making another head to fight again.12

Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle

Warwick ?

And when came George from Burgundy to Eng- land! War. Some six miles off the duke is with the

soldiers ;

And for your brother, he was lately sent From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war.13

14 The second battle of St. Albans, of which Warwick here tells the story, took place February 17, 1461. The account is for the most part historically true. Of course it will be understood that the king was at that time in the keeping of those who were really fighting against him, though nominally with his sanction ; and the effect of the battle was to release him from their hands, and restore him to his friends, who under the leading of the queen were seeking to break up the compromise that had been forced through in the late parliament. The course and issue of the fight ate thus described in the Chronicles : " These (the Yorkists) gave the onset so fiercelie at the beginning, that the victorie rested doubtfull a certeine time ; but after they had stood it a pretio while they began to faint, and, turning their backes, fled amaine over hedge and ditch, throdgh thick and thin, woods and bushes, seeking to escape the hands of their crtiell enimies. that followed them with eger minds, to make slaughter upon them, and bare downe manie, and more had doone, if the night comming on had not stayed them." H.

13 This is slightly at variance with fact. York's sons, George and Richard, the one being then in his twelfth year, the oilier in his ninth, were sent into Flanders immediately after the battle of VVakefield, and did not return till Edward had taken the crown. And the duchess of Burgundy was not their aunt, but their tliird cousin. u

8C. I. OF HENRY VI. 357

Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick

fled:

Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire.

War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou

hear ;

For thou shall know this strong right hand of mino Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful sceptre from his fist, Were he as famous and as bold in war, As he is fam'd for mildness, peace, and prayer.

Rich. I know it well, lord Warwick ; blame me

not :

'Tis love I bear thy glories makes me speak. But in this troublous time what's to be done ? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numbering our Ave-Maries with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the last, say — Ay ! and to it, lords.

War. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you

out,

And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords : The proud insulting queen, With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy-melting king like wax. He swore consent to your succession, His oath enrolled in the parliament ; And .now to London all the crew are gone, To frustrate both his oath, and what besides May make against the house of Lancaster: Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong. Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself.

3:>8 THE THIRD PART ACT II.

With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March, Amongst the loving Welchmen canst procure, Will but amount to five-and-twenty thousand, Why, Via ! to London will we march amain ; And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry — Charge upon our foes ! But never once again turn back, and fly.

Rick. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick

speak :

Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, That cries — Retire, if Warwick bid him stay.

Echo. Lord Warwick on thy shoulder will 1 lean; And when thou fail'st, (as God forbid the hour !) Must Edward fall, wliich peril Heaven forefend !

War. No longer earl of March, but duke of

York :

The next degree is, England's royal throne ; For king of England shall thou be proclaim'd In every borough as we pass along ; And he that throws not up his cap for joy, Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward, — valiant Richard, — Montague, — Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets, and about our task.14

Ric/u Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as

steel,

(As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,) I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.

Edw. Then stvike up, drums! — God, and St. George, for us !

M Thus far the whole of this scene, since the entrance of War •rick and Montague, comprising 106 lines, is the same in the quar- to and the folio, with the exception of 18 lines slightly altered in the latter, and of the line mentioned in note 10. u.

S>C. II. OK HKMIV VI. 35D

Enter a Messenger.

War. How now ! what news ?

Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by

me,

The queen is coming with a puissant host ; And craves your company for speedy counsel.

I Far. Why then it sorts : u brave warriors, let's away. [Exeunt

SCENE II. Before York.

Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, Prince ED- WARD, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with Forces.

Queen. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of

York.

Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, That sought to be encompass'd with your crown : Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?

King. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their

wreck :

To see this sight, it irks my very soul. — Withhold revenge, dear God ! 'tis not my fault , Not wittingly have I infring'd my vow.

Clif. My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting T

'» Things are as they should be ; it fall* out rigkl

360 THE THIRD PART ACT 11

Not he that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on ; And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown, Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue like a loving sire ; Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, Which argued thee a most unloving father. Unreasonable creatures feed their young ; And though 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 sometime they have us'd with fearful flight, Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young's defence ? For shame, my liege ! make them your precedent. Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his lather's fault, And long hereafter say unto his child, — " What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, My careless father fondly l gave away ? " Ah, what a shame were this ! Look on the boy ; And let his manly face, which promiseth Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. King. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear, That things ill got had ever bad success ? And happy always was it for that son, Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?*

1 Foolishly.

* The king quotes two proverbs ; the one, — " Ill-gotten goodi

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 381

IT leave my son my virtuous deeds behind,

And 'would my father had left me no more !

For all the rest is held at such a rate,

As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep,

Than in possession any jot of pleasure.

Ah, cousin York ! 'would thy best friends did know

How it doth grieve me that thy head is here !

Queen. My lord, cheer up your spirits : our foes

are nigh,

And this soft carriage makes your followers faint You promis'd knighthood to our forward son : Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. - Edward, kneel down.

King. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight, And learn this lesson, — Draw thy sword in right.

Prince.- My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,3 And in that quarrel use it to the death.

Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. 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 battle,4 for they are at hand.

never prosper;" the other, — "Happy the child whose father went to the devil." • This last he must he supposed to use inter- rogatively, as disputing the truth of it : " Was it always happy for mat son ? " &c. This interpretation sets the king's reasoning right.

* Of course apparent is here used substantively, for heir-ap- partnt. E.

4 That is. arraupe, make ready, or embattle your army. Tb«

362 THE THIRO HART ACT II.

Olif. I would your highness would depart the

field :

The queen hath best success when you are absent.* Queen. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our

fortune. King. Why, that's my fortune too ; therefore I'll

stay.

North. Be it with resolution, then, to fight. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence. Unsheath your sword, good father : cry, St. George !

March. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WAR- WICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers.

Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for

grace, •

And set thy diadem upon my head, Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?

Queen. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting 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 consent ; Since when, his oath is broke ; 8 for, as I hear,

word is much used by the old poets, especially Spenser. Thus in The Faerie Queene, Book i. can. 4, stan. 40 :

" Therewith they gan to hurtlen greedily, Redoubled battaile ready to darrayne, And clash their shields, and shake their swerds on hy ; That with their sturre they troubled aH the traine." H.

6 So in Holinshed : " Thus was the queene fortunate in hii two battels, but unfortunate was the king in all his enterprises for where his person was present the victorie still fled from him to the contrarie part. The queene caused the king to dub hir sonne prince Edward knight, with thirtie other persons, which the day before fought on hir side against his part." H.

9 This of course refers to the late compromise or agreement

SC. II. OF HKNRT VI. 363

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 son in.

Clif. And reason too: Who should succeed the father, but the son?

Kick. Are you there, butcher ? — O! I cannot

speak. Clif. Ay, crook-back ; here I stand to answer

thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort.

Rich, 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, waa

it not?

Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. Kick. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the

fight. War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou -yield

the crown? Queen. Why, how now, long-tongued Warwick !

dare you speak?

When you and I met at St. Albans last, Your legs did better service than your hands.

War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tw

thine. Clif. You said so much before, and yet you

fled. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me

thence. North. No, nor your manhood that durst make

you stay.

Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently : — Break oft' the parley ; for scarce I can refrain

which was " sirorne unto by the two parties." See Act i. sc. 1, note 10. — In ihc t'olio, this and I he three following lines are as- signed to Clarence ; hut tho words, "to blot out me,'' »how iha< they were meant to be u part of Edward' t speech. H

364 THE THIRD PART ACT It

The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

Clif. I slew thy father : call'st thou him a child 1

Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous cow- ard,

As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ; But ere sun-set I'll make thee curse the deed.

King. Have done with words, my lords, and hr ar me speak.

Queen. Defy them, then, or else hold close thy lips.

King. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue : [ am a king, and privileg'd to speak.

Clif. My liege, the wound that bred this meeting

here Cannot be cur'd by words ; therefore be still.

Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword : By Him that made us all, I am resolv'd,7 That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue.

Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no'J A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown

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

Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says ia

right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right.

Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands ; For well I wot thou hast thy mother's tongue.8

Queen. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor dam ;

7 Thai is, persuaded, or convinced.

8 In the folio this speech is assigned to Warwick, in the quarto to Richard. The queen's reply shows that th»» quarto is right

u.

SC. II. OK HENRY VI. 365

But like n foul misshapen stigmatic," Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings

If irk. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose father bears the title of a king, (As if a channel lo should be call'd the sea,) Sliam'st thou not, knowing whence thou art ex-

traught," To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ?

Edw. A wisp of straw1* were worth a thousand

crowns,

To make this shameless callet know herself. — Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus ; 1J And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd I5y that false woman, as this king by thee.14 His father revell'd in the heart of France, And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoop;

' One whom nature has marked out for shame, or stigmatized. Si-i- the Second Part, Act v. sc. 1, note 14. H.

10 A cliannel in the Poet's time signified what we now call a kennel; which word is still pronounced channel in the north.

" Extraught for extracted. The quarto has deric'd. — Detect in the next line is used in its original sense of uncorer or disclose

H.

11 A wisp of straw was often applied as a mark of opprobrium to an immodest woman, a scold, or similar offender : even show- ing it lo a woman was therefore considered as a grievous affront. A cillet was a lewd wanton ; but the term was often giveu to a •MM.

13 That is, a cuckold. In Troilus and Cressida, Act v. sc. 1, Tl.crsites, spiking of Menelaus, calls him •• the primitive statue «.:•_ nfilique memorial of cuckolds."

•' Malone relies much on the frequency of classical allusions in the quarto, as inferring a more learned author than Shakespeare \Vliirn makes it worth remarking that this and the three preced- ing lines are found only in the folio. What ren<(ers it the more remarkable is, that all (be rest of this speech is the same in tke quarto. See. also, note 9 of the preceding scene. H.

3fi6 THE THIRD PART ACT It

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 sire with his bridal day,

Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him,

That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France,

And heap'd sedition on his crown at home.

For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride '?

Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept ;

And we, in pity of the gentle king,

Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy

spring,

And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root ; And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee clown, Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.

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.

Queen. Stay, Edward.

Edw. No, wrangling woman ; we'll no longer

stay :

These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day.15

[Exeunt.

l§ This scene has 177 lines, of which 10 are peculiar to the folio, 51 altered, most of them very slightly, from the qi'arto, and 116 common to both. H.

«c in. or HENRY vi. ,167

SCENE III.

A Field of Battle near Towton in Yorkgliire.1

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 a while.

Enter EDWARD, running.

Edw. Smile, gentle heaven ! or strike, ungentle

death !

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

1 Soon after the second battle of St. Albans, Edward, coming fresh from his victory at Mortimer's Cross, united his forces with those under Warwick and Montague, and marched straight to London, which he knew was altogether of his faction. A few days later, a great council being held, it was resolved that Henry, by joining the queen's forces, had broken the lale compact, and forfeited the crown to Edward, the heir to Richard late duke of York. Edward then made harangues to the people, who with shouts and acclamations ratified the sentence of the council ; whereupon he was proclaimed king. This was done March 4, I |i>l. The 12th of the same mouth he started northward with a large army, intending to finish the war at one stroke. The imme- diate preliminaries to the action of the following scene are thus given in Holinshed : " His armie and all things prepared, he de- parted out of London the twelfe daie of March, and by easie journies came to the cnstell of Pomfret, where be rested, appoint- ing the lord Fitz Walter to keepe the passage of Ferrybridge with a good number of tall men. King Henrie on the other part, having his armie in readinesse, committed the governance thereof to the duke of Summerset, the earle of Northumberland, and the lord Clifford, as men desiring to revenge the death of their p.ir ents. slaine -n the first hattell at saint Al!>ons.'' H

3W5 THE THIRD PART ACT II

Enter GEORGE.

Gco. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us. What counsel give you ? wluther shall we fly 1 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 drunk, 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 ! w So underneath the belly of their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.2

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our

blood :

111 kill my horse, because 1 will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage, And look upon,3 as if the tragedy Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors 1

* " The lord Clifford determined to make a charge upon them that kept the passage of Ferrybridge ; and so he departed with his light horssemen, and earlie, yer his enimies were aware, slue the keepers, and wan the bridge. The lord Fitz Walter, hearing the noise, suddenlie rose out of his bed, and, thinking it had beene a fraie amongst his men, came downe to appease the same ; but yer he knew what the matter meant was slaine, and with him the bastard of Salisburie, brother to the earle of \Varwicke, a valiant yoong1 gentleman, and of great audacitie.'' — Holinshed. H.

3 Look upon for look on ; that is, are mere spectator*

SC. III. OF HENRY VI. 36U

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.4

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; 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 in 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

4 " When toe earle of Warwic*e was informed liereof, like a man desperat, he mounted on his harknie, and hasted puffing ami blowing to king Edward, saieng, — ' Sir, I praie God have iner- cie of their soules, which in the beginning of your enterprise Lava lost their lives.' With that he lighted downe, and glue his horse with his sword, saieng, — ' Let him flee that will, for surelie I will larrie with him that will tarric with me ; ' and kissed the cross* of his sword, as it were for a vo.v to the promise." — Holiiuhed

H-

370 THE THIRD PART ACT Q.

As victors wear at the Olympian games : This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ; For yet is hope of life, and victory. — Foreslow no longer;5 make we hence amain.

[Exeunt

SCENE IV.

The same. 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 slabb'd thy father York, And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland ; A.nd 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.

[Theyjight. WARWICK enters; CLIFFORD flies.

Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase ; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exutnt.

6 To foreslow is to delay. Thus in Holland's Livy : " The eonsull for his part foreslowed not to come to haud-fight, the onely thing he sought for in threatening to give assault." — " King- Ed. ward, perceiving the courage of his trustie friend the earle of Warwike, made proclamation, that all men which were afraid tc fight should depart ; and to all those that tarried the hattell he promised great rewards, with addition, that anie souldier wnich voluntarilie would abide, and afterwards, either in or before the fight, should seeme to flee or turne his backe, then he that could kill him should have a great reward and double wages." — Hoi inshed. H.

SC. *. OF HENRY VL 371

SCENE V. Another Part of the Field.

Alarum. Enter King HENRY.

King. This battle fares like to the morning's war. When dying clouds contend with growing light ; What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails,1 Caa neither call it ]>erfect day, nor night. Now sways it tliis 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 cliid me from the battle, swearing both, They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would 1 were dead ! if God's good will were so , For what is in this world but grief and woe? O God ! lilt-thinks it were a happy life '

1 This seems to have been a mode of whiling away one's time, when one could do nothing else or bad nothing else to do. See l.ow-'s Labour's Lost, Act v. sc. 2, nole 50. H.

* So in Holinshed : " This deadlie conflict continued ten hourea 'n doubtful! state of victorie, uncertainlie heaving and setting on ooth sides."

3 " This speech is mournful and soft, exquisitely suited to the character of the king, and makes a pleasing interchange by af- fording, amidst the tumult and horror of the battle, an unexpected glimpse ol" rural innocence and pastoral tranquillity.'' — Johnton. There are some verses preserved of Henry VI. which are in n

372 THE THIRD PART ACT O,

To be no better than a homely swain ;

To sit upon a 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 contemplate ;

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,4 months, and year*-.

Pass'd over to the end they were created,

strain of the same pensive moralizing character. The reader may not be displeased to have them here subjoined, that he may com- pare 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."

* Weeks is not in the original. It was supplied by Rowe, and the preceding order of the speech seems to require it ; though, as hath been suggested, it may seeii equally to require that moitthi be omitted . H.

fO. V. OF HENRY VI 373

Would bring white luiirs unto a quiet grave.

Ah, whfit :i lite were this ! how sweet ! how lo/ely

(Jives not the hawthorn hush ;i sweeter shade

To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,

Thiui doth a rich embroider'd canopy

To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery?

O ! yes it doth ; a thousand fold it doth.

And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds,

His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,

His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

Is far beyond a prince's delicates,

His viands sparkling in a golden cup,

His body couched in a curious bed,

When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.*

Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his Father, with the dead Body.

Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. — This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May lie possessed with some store of crowns: And I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them

• More than three fourths of this speech was new in the folio. In the quarto it stands as follows :

" O, gracious God of heaven ! look down on us, And set some ends to these incessant griefs. How like a maslless ship upon the seas This woeful battle cloth continue still ! Now leaning this way, now to thai side driven, And none doth know in whom the day will fall. O, would my death might stay tlie.se civil jars ! Would I had never reign'd, nor ne'er been king ' Margaret and Clifford rliiile me from ihc field, Swearing tiicy had best success when 1 was thence Would God that I were dead, so all were well ; Or would my crown suffice, 1 were content To yield it them, and live a private life." w

374 THE THIRD PAKF ACT It.

To some man else, as this dead man doth me. — Who's this? — O God! it is my father's face, Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. O, heavy times, begetting such events ! From London by the king was I press'd forth ; My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; And I, who at his hands received my life, Have by my hands of life bereaved him. — I'ardon me, God, I knew not what I did ! — And pardon, father, for I knew not thee ! — My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks. And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. King. O, piteous spectacle ! O, bloody times ! Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. — Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear ; And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief.6

Enter a Father, who has killed his Son, icith the Body in his Arms.

Path. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me. Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold ; For I have bought it with a hundred blows. — But let me see : — is this our foeman's face 1

9 Johnson's interpretation of this is probably right : " The state of their hearts and eyes shall be like that of the kingdom in a civil war; all shall be destroyed by a power formed within them- selves."— Of course these instances of unwitting parricide and filicide are meant to illustrate generally the horrors of civil war. They were suggested, no doubt, by a passage in Hall concerning •this battle of Towton : " This conflict was in manner unnatural, for in it the son fought against the father, the brother against the brother, the nephew against the uncle, and the tenant again:- hit lord " H.

SC. V. OF HENRY VI. 375

All, no, no, no! it is mine only son ! —

Ah, boy ! if any life be left in thee.

Throw up thine eye: see, see! what showers arise,

Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,

Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart !—

O, pity, God, this miserable age ! —

What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,

Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,

This deadly quarrel daily doth beget ! —

O boy ! thy father gave thee life too soon,

And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.7

King. Woe above woe ! grief more than com

mon grief!

O, that my death would stay these ruthlul deeds! — O, pity, pity ! gentle Heaven, pity! — The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses : The one his purple blood right well resembles, The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth ; Wither one rose, and let the other flourish ! If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.

Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, Take on witli me, and ne'er be satisfied !

Path. I low will my wife, for slaughter of my son, Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied !

King. How will the country, for these woeful

chances, Mistliink8 the king, and not be satisfied!

Son. Was ever son so rued a father's death ?

1 Of these obscure lines the following explanation by Henley is the most probable which has been offered : — Had the son been younger he would have been precluded from the levy which brought him to (he field ; and had the father recognized him before their mortal encounter it w ould not have been too late to have saved him from dealh.

• Think ill of

376 THE THIRD PART ACT JT

Path. Was ever father so bemoan'd a son ? King. 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 fill. [Exit, with tlic Body

Faih. These arms of mine shall be thy winding- sheet ;

My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre ; For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ; And so obsequious" will thy father be, E'en for the loss of thee,10 having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I'll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will, For I have murder'd where I should not kill.

[Exit, with the Body. King. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with

care, Here sits a king more woeful than you are.

Alarums : Excursions. Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince EDWARD, 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.

Queen. Mount you, my lord ; towards Berwick

post amain :

Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight,

* Obsequious here means careful of obsequies, or funeral rites.

10 The original has " Men for the loss of thee." For Men Howe substituted Sad ; Mr. Collier sets this aside, and puts Man instead. Mr. Dyce says, — ' Surely Men must be a misprint fuj E'en" H

J»C. V. OF HENRY VI. 377

With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, Are at our backs ; and therefore hence amain. Eif. Away ! for vengeance comes along with

them :

Nay, stay not to expostulate ; make speed, Or else come after : I'll away before.

King. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Ex- eter :

Not that I fear to stay, but love to go Whither the queen intends. Forward! away!"

[Exeunt.

11 The great battle of Towton was fought March 29, 1461, the day after the action at Ferrybridge. Its effect was to fix the crown on the brow of Edward. Holinshed's acccount of it is mainly copied from Hall : " This battell was sore foughten, for hope of life was set aside on either part, and taking1 of prisoners proclaimed a great offense ; so everie man determined to van- quish or die in the field. But in the end king Edward so cou- ragiouslie comforted his men, that the other part was discomfitted and overcome ; who, like men amazed, fled toward Tadcaster bridge to save themselves, where in the mid waie is a little brooke called Cocke, not verie broad, but of great decpnesse, in which, what for hast to escape, and what for feare of their followers, a great number was drowned. It was reported that men alive passed the river upon dead carcasses, and that the great river of Wharf* whereinto that brooke dooth run, and all tlie water com- ming from Towton, was coloured with bloud. The chase contin- ued all night and the most part of the next daie, and ever the northern*" men, as they saw anie advantage, returned againc. and fought with their enimies, to the great losse of both parts. Fcr in these two daies were slaine, as they that knew it wrote, on botk parts six and thirtie thousand seven hundred threescore and six teene persons, all Englishmen and of one nation." H.

378 THE THIRD P\RT 4CT II

SCENE VI. The same.

A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded.1

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

0, Lancaster ! I fear thy overthrow, More than my body's parting with my soul. My love and fear glued many friends to thee ; And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt, Impairing Henry, strengthening mis-proud York The common people swarm like summer flies : * And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun?

And who shines now but Henry's enemies 1 O Phoabus ! hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth : And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, Or as thy father and his father did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies :

1, and ten thousand in this luckless realm, Had left no mourning widows for our death, And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?

And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity ?

1 In the old play the stage-direction adds, with an arrow in hit neck. It is thought that Beaumont and Fletcher ridiculed this by introducing Ralph, the grocer's prentice, in The Knight of the Burning Pestle, with a forked arrow through his head. The cir- cumstance is related by Holinshed : " The lord Clifford, either for heat or paine, putting off bis goiget, suddenlie with an arrow (as some saie) without a head, was striken into the throte, and imme- diately rendered his spirit."

" This line, clearly needful to the sense, was supplied from the quarto b> Theobald. n.

B< \ I. OF HEXRY VI. 371/

Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds: No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: 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 — Tome, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; I stahb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.

[He fidnts.

Alarum and Retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers.

Edw. Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bid*

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 gust, Command an argosy to stem the waves. But tliink you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?

War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape ; For, though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave ; And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.

[CLIFFORD groans, and dies.

Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave 7

Rich. A deadly groan, like life arid death's de-

parting : 3 See who it is.

Edw. And, now the battle's ended,

If friend, or foe, let him be gently used.

' Departing for separation. To depart, in old language, is to port. Thus in the old marriage service . " Till death us depart."

380 THE THIRD PART M,T 1L

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clif

ford ;

Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murdering 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.4

[Attendants bring the Body forward. War. I think his understanding is bereft. — Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to

thee 1 —

Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And he nor sees, nor hears us, what we say.

Rich. O, 'would he did ! and so, perhaps, he doth : Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts, Which in the time of death he gave our father.

4 In the quarto this speech stands thus :

" Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung- to us but blood and death : Now his evil-boding tongue uo more shall speak."

One of the reasons alleged for denying the original play to Shake- ipeare is its lack of images and expressions resembling those in bis other plays. Which makes occasion of quoting from Richard III., Act iv. sc. 4: "Out on ye, omit! nothing but songs of death. ? " H.

SC. VI. OK HENRY VL 381

Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager

words.5

Rii-fi. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. Geo. Wliile we demise fell tortures for thy faults. Ill rk. Thou didst love York, and I am son to

York.

Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you

now? War. They mock thee, Clifford ! swear as thou

wast 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 soul, If this right hand would buy two hours' life, That I in all despite might rail at him, Tliis hand should chop it off; and with the issuing

blood

Stifle the villain, whose unstanched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy.'

• Sour words ; words of asperity. " Verie eagre or sowte I peracerbus." — Baret.

' This most characteristic speech is but slightly altered from the quarto :

" What ! not an oath T nay, then I know he's dead : 'Tis hard when Clifford cannot 'ford his friend an oath- By this I know he's dead : And, by my soul, Would this right hand buy but an hour's life, That I in all contempt might rail at him, I'd cut it off. and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain, whose instanched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy." Could such an union of sarcastic humour and bloody-tbougfated- ness have sprung from any but the author of Richard's character w developed in the play which bears his name 1 H.

382 THE THIRD PART ACT II.

War. Ay, but he's dead : Off with the traitor'a

head,

And rear it in the place your father's stands.7 — And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned England's royal king. From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France , And ask the lady Bona for thy queen : So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ; And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again ; 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. - Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster; — And George, of Clarence : — Warwick, as ourself, Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence, George, of

Gloster ; For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.8

7 So in the Chronicles : " After this great victorie, king Edwarti rode to Yorke ; and first he caused the heads of his father, the earle of Salisburie, and other his freends, to be taken from the gates, and to be buried with their bodies, and there he cause'l the earle of Devonshire and three. other to be beheaded, and set their beads in the same place." H.

9 Holinshed, after Hall, winds up the story of " the good Duke Humphrey's" death with the following: "Some thinke that the nam* and title of Glocester hath beene unluckie to diverse, as Hugh Spenser, Thomas of VVoodstoke. and this duke Humfrie j which three persons by miserable death finished their daies, and after them king Richard the third also. So that this name is take* for an unhappie stile, as the proverb speakcth of Sejzns liorsso

VI. OF HENRY VI.

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 Crossbows 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 crostr

bow

Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best : And, for the time shall not seem tedious,3

whose rider was ever unhorsed, and whose possessor was ever brought to miserie." H.

1 In the folio, instead of two keepers, we have the names of the persons who represented these characters, Sinck/n and Humphrey. Humphrey was probably Humphrey Jeafics. mentioned in Mr. Henslowe's manuscript; Sincklo we have met before, his r.imc being prefixed to some speeches in the Induction to The Ttming of the Shrew.

* A plain extended between woods, a lawn.

* Evidently meaning, — "And, that the time may not seen tedious;" a mode of speech not uncommon in the nM wilier*

384 THE THIRD PART ACT III

I'll tell thee what befell me on a day, 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.4

King. From Scotland am I stol'n. even of pure

love,

To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ; Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee, Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed : No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, No humble suitors press to speak for right, No, not a man comes for redress of thee ; 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.

4 The Poet here leaps over something1 more than four years of military arid parliamentary slaughter. After the battle of Towton the king fled into Scotland, and from thence sent the queen and prince to France. In October, 1463, she returned to Scotland with a small power of men, and soon after, having obtained a great company of Scots, she entered England with the king. At first the Lancastrian cause had a gleam of success, but was again crushed at the battle of Hexham, in April, 1464. After this over- throw, the king escaped a second time into Scotland ; and it was upon his second return in June, 1465, that he was taken, somewhat as ib represented in this scene. Such, at least, is the account de- livered by Hall and Holinshed ; who, after speaking of Edward's measures of security against his rival, add the following: "Hut all the doubts of trouble that might insue by king Henries being at libertie were shortlie taken a ay ; for he himselfe, whether he was past all f'earc, or that hee was not well established in his wits, or for that he could not long keepe himselfe secret, in disguised atire boldlie entred into England. He was no sooner entred, but Ke was kuowne and taken of one Cantlow, and brought toward the king ; whom the earle of Warwike met on the way, and brought him through London to the Tower, and there he was laid in sure bold." H.

SC. 1 OF HENRY VI. 386

King. Let me embrace thee, sour adversity ; * For wise men say, it is the wi.sest course.

'2 K.I [i. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.

1 Keep. Forbear a while ; we'll hear a little more

King. My queen, and son, are gone to France

for aid ;

And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward. If this news be true, Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost ; For Warwick is a subtle orator, And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. By this account, then, Margaret may win him, For she's a woman to be pitied much : Her sighs will make a battery in his breast, Her tears will pierce into a marble heart ; The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn, And Nero will be tainted with remorse, To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. Ay, but she's come to beg ; Warwick, to give : She on his left side craving aid for Henry, He on lus right asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says — her Henry is depos'd ; He smiles, and says — his Edward is install'd ; That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more, Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength ; And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, With promise of his sister, and what else,

The original has the tower Adrertariet, which Mr. Collier retains, not being able to see. with Mr. Dyce. that the reading if " flagrant nonsense." Pope changed the text to these tour adrer- titirs. which has l>cen generally adopted. As tkee was o'"tcn spell the. and adversity almost always adveriitie, Mr. Dyce very apllj suggests the reading we have preferred. B

386 THE THIRD PART ACT ML

To strengthen and support King Edward's place. O Margaret ! thus 'twill be ; and them, poor soul, Art tnen forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.8

2 Keep. Say, what art thou that talk'st of kings

and queens ? King. More than I seem, and less than I waa

born to :

A man at least, for less I should not be ; And men may talk of kings, and why not II

2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a

king.

King. Why, so I am, in mind ; and that's enough. 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown ? King. My crown is in my heart, not on my head ; Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content ; A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with con

tent,

Your crown, content, and you, "must be contented To go along with us ; for, as we think, You are the king, King Edward hath depos'd ; And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, Will apprehend you as his enemy.

King. But did you never swear, ar d break an

oath?

2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not now. King. Where did you dwell, when I was king

of England?

2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now re- main. King. I was anointed king at nine months old ;

8 " The piety of Henry scarce interests us more for his misfor tunes than this his constant solicitude for the welfare of his deceit fill queen " — Stetveru.

FC. I. OF HENKT VI. 387

My father and my grandfather were

And you were sworn true subjects unto me :

And tell me, then, have you not broke your oaths 1

1 Keep. No; For we were subjects but while you were king.

King. Why, am I dead 1 do I not breathe a man 1 Ah, simple men ! you know not what you swear. Look, as 1 blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust ; Such is the lightness of you common men. But do not break your oaths ; for of that sin .My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded, And be you kings ; command, and I'll obey.

1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, King Edward.

King. So would you be again to Henry, If he were seated as King Edward is.

1 Keep. We charge you, in God's name, and in

the king's, To go with us unto the officers.

King. In God's name, lead ; your king's name

be obey'd :

And what God will, that let your king perform ; And what he will, I humbly yield unto.7 [Extant.

7 We have already set forlh the taking of King Henry as re- lated in the Chronicles. Dr. Lingard probably has the truth of the matter; who (ells us that after the battle of Hexhnin the king "sought an asylum among the natives of Lancashire and \\Y-t- moreland. a people sincerely devoted to his interests. The!' fidel- ity enabled him for more than a year to elude the vigilance and researches of the government ; but he was at last betrayed by th« perfidy of a mouk of Abingdou, and taken by the servants of Sit

388 THE THIRD PART ACT Hi.

SCENE II. London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter King EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, and Lady GREY.

K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at St. Albans' field This lady's husband, Sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror : Her suit is now, to repossess those lands ; Which we in justice cannot well deny, Because in quarrel of the house of York The worthy gentleman did lose his life.1

Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant her

suit; It were dishonour to deny it her.

K. Edw. It were no less ; but yet I'll make a pause.

Glo. [Aside.'] Yea ! is it so ?

James Harrington, as he sat at dinner in Waddington hall in York- shire. At Islington he was met by Warwick, who ordered that no one should show him any respect, tied his feet to the stirrups as a prisoner, led him thrice round the pillory, and conducted him to the Tower. There he was treated with humanity, but kept in the most rigorous confinement for some years." H.

1 This seems a very needless departure from fact. Sir John Grey fell in the second battle of St. Albans, righting on King Henry's side ; and his lands were not seized by the queen, who conquered in that battle, but by King Edward after the victory at Towton. Shakespeare has the matter correctly in Richard III., Act i. sc. 3 :

"In all which time, you and your husband Grey Were factious for the house of Lancaster; — And, Rivers, so were you : — Was not your husband In Margaret's battle at St. Albans slain ? "

As the text in this passage is but slightly altered from the quaito, Malone cites this discrepancy as " proving incontestably that Shake- speare was not the original author of the play." H

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. 38B

I see, the I/uI/ liath a thing to grant. Before the king will grant her humble suit.

Clar. [Aside.] He knows the game: How true

he keeps the wind ! GLi. [Aside.] Silence!

K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit ; And come some other time to know our mind. L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook

delay :

May it please your highness to resolve me now, And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me.

Glo. [Aside.] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant you

all your lauds,

An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a blow. Clar. [Aside.] I fear her not, unless she chanco

to fall. Glo. [Aside.] God forbid that! for he'll take

vantages. K. Edw. How many cliildren hast thou, widow t

tell me. Clar. [Aside.] I think he means to beg a child

of her. Glo. [Aside.] Nay, then whip me ; he'll rather

give her two.

L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. Glo. [Aside.] You shall have four, if you'll be

rul'd by him.

K. Edw. 'Twere pity, they should lose their fa- ther's lands. L. Griy. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it

then.

K. Edw. Lords, give us leave : I'll try this wid ow's wit.

390 THE THIRD PART ACT III.

Glo. Ay, good leave have you ; for you \vill have

leave,

Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. [GLOSTF.R and CLARENCE stand apart. K. Edin. Now, tell me, madam, do you love your

children ?

L. Grey- Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. K. Edw. And would you not do much, to do theru

good? L. Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some

harm. K. Edw. Then get your husband s lands, to do

them good.

L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. K. Edw. I'll tell you how these lands are to be

got. L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness*

service. K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I give

them? L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me

to do. K.. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my

boon.

L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. K. Edw. Ay, but the JL canst do what I mean to

ask. L. Grey. Why, then I will do wTiat your grace

commands. Glo. [Aside.] He plies her hard ; and much rain

wears the marble. Clar. [Aside.] As red as fire ! nay, then her wax

must melt. L. Grey. Why stops my lord ? shall I not near

my task?

SC II. OF HENRY VI 39

K. Edw. An easy task ; 'tis but to love a king. L. Grey, That's soon perform'd, because I am a

subject. K. Edw. Why, then thy husband's lands I freely

give thee. L. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand

thanks. Glo. [Aside.] The match is made : she seals it

with a curtesy. K. Edw. But stay thee ; 'tis the fruits of love I

mean. L. Grry. The fruits of love I mean, my loving

lieg*.

K. Edw. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? L. Grey. My love till death ; my humble thanks,

my prayers ;

That love which virtue begs, and virtue grants. K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean such

love. Jj. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I thought

you did. K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive my

mind.

L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I per- ceive Your highness aims at, if I aim aright.

K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with thee. L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in

prison.

K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy hus- band's lands. L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my

dower ; For by that loss I will not purchase them.

392 THE THIRD PART ACT III.

K. Edw. Therein thou wrong'st thy childreu

mightily. L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them

and me.

But, mighty lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness of my suit : Please you dismiss me, either with ay, or no.

K. Edw. Ay, if thou wilt say ay to my request ; No, if thou dost say no to my demand.

L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an

end. (rlo. [Aside.] The widow likes him not ; she

knits her brows. (Jlar. [Aside.] He is the bluntest wooer in Chris

tendom. K. Etfio. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her replete

with modesty ;

Her words do show her wit incomparable ; All her perfections challenge sovereignty : One way or other she is for a king, And she shall be my love, or else my queen. — Say, that King Edward take thee for his queen? L. Grey. 'Tis better said than done, my gracious

lord:

I am a subject fit to jest withal, But far unfit to be a sovereign.

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to

tbee,

I speak no more than what my soul intends; And that is, to enjoy thee for my love.

L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto : I know I am too mean to be your queen, And yet too good to be your concubine.

K. Edw. You cavil, widow : I did mean, nry queen.

SC. II. OF HENRY VI. JR«)

L. Grey Twill grieve your grace, my sons should

call you father. K. Edw. No more, than when my daughters call

thee mother.

Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children ; And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, Have other some : why, 'tis a happy thing To be the father unto many sons. Answer no more, for thou shall be my queen. Glo. [Aside.] The ghostly father now hath dona

his shrift. Clar. [Aside.] When he was made a shriver.

'twas for shift. K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we two

have had. Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks very

sad. K. Edw. You'd think it strange if I should marry

her.

Clar. To whom, my lord 1

K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself.

Glo. That would be ten days' wonder, at the

least.

Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. Glo By so much is the wonder in extremes. K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers : I can tell you

both, Her suit is granted for her husband's lands.*

1 The first meeting of Edward with the lady Elizabeth is thin noted in ilie Chronicles: "The king being ou hunting in lh« for- est of Wichwood beside Stouistrntfonl, came for his recreation to Ihe manor of GraAon, where the duchesse of Bedford then so- journed, wife to sir Richard Woodvile lord Rivers, on whome was then attendant a daughter of hirs, called the ladle Elizabeth (Jraie, widow of sir John Graie kuight, slaine at the last baliell of sain) Albous This widow, having a sutc lu the king for such lauds as

394 THE THIRD PART ACT III

Enter a Nobleman.

Nob My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken. And brought your prisoner to your palace gate.

K. Edw. See that he be convey 'd unto the Tow

er; —

And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To question of liis apprehension. — •

Widow, go you along : — Lords, use her honourably [Exeunt King EDWARD, Lady GREY, CLARENCE, and Lord.

Cflo. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. ''Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, To cross me from the golden time I look for ! And yet, between my soul's desire and me, The lustful Edward's title buried, Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: A cold premeditation for my purpose ! Why, then I do but dream on sovereignty : Like one that stands upon a promontory, And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye,

fair husband had given hir in jointure, so kindled the kings affec lion, that he not onelie favoured hir sute, but more hir person. For she was a woman of a more formall countenance, than of excellent beautie ; and yet both of such beautie and favour, that w.'.h hir sober demeanour, sweete looks, and comelie smiling, nei- ther too wanton nor too bashfull, besides hir pleasant toong and trim wit, she so alured and made subject unto hir the heart of thai great prince, that, after she had denied him to be his paramour, with so good maner, and words so well set as better could not be devised, he finallie resolved with himselfe to marrie hir, not asking counsel! of auie man, till they might perceive it was no bootie to advise him to the contrarie of that his purpose." B.

SC. It. OF HENRY VI. 395

And chides the sea that sunders him from thence,

Saying — he'll lade it dry to have his way;

So ,),) | \\ish the crown, being so far off,

And so I chide the means that keep me from it;

And so I say I'll cut the causes off,

Flattering me with impossibilities. —

My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much,

I I'lt'ss my hand and strength could equal them.

Well, say there is no kingdom, then, for Richard,

What other pleasure can the world afford?

I'll make my heaven in a lady's lap,

And deck my body in gay ornaments,

And witch sweet ladies with my words and IOOKA

O, miserable thought ! and more unlikely,

Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns !

Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb ;

And, for I should not deal in her soft laws,

She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe

To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub ;

To make an envious mountain on my back,

Where sits deformity to mock my body ;

To shape my legs of an unequal size ;

To disproportion me in every part,

Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp,'

That carries no impression like the dam.

And am I, then, a man to be belov'd?

O, monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought !

Then, since this earth affords no joy to me

But to command, to check, to o'erbear such

As are of better person than myself,4

3 " It^was an opinion which, in spite of its absurdity, prevailed long, that the bear brings forth only shapeless lumps of flesh, which she lirks into the form of bears. It is now well known thai the whelps of bears are produced in the same state with thoM» of other animals " — John$on.

* '• Richard speak* here the language of nature. \Vhoe\er if

396 THE THIRD PART ACT IH

I'll make my heaven to dream upon the crown ;

And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell,

Until my misshap'a trunk that hears this head

Be round impaled ft with a glorious crown.

And yet. I know not how to get the crown,

For many lives stand between me and home;

And I, — like one lost in a thorny wood,

That rends the thorns, and is rent with the thon:a.

Seeking a way, and straying from the way,

Not knowing how to find the open air,

But toiling desperately to find it out, —

Torment myself to catch the English crown,

And from that torment I will free myself,

Or hew my way out with a bloody axe.

Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile,

And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart,

And wet my cheeks with artificial tears,

And frame my face to all occasions.

I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ;

I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk ;

I'll play the orator as well as Nestor,

Deceive more slily than Ulysses could,

And, like a Sinon, take another Troy :

I can add colours to the chameleon,

Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages,

stigmatized with deformity has a constant source of envy in his mind, and would counterbalance by some other superiority thos« advantages which he feels himself to want. Bacon remarks that the deformed are commonly daring ; and it is almost proverbi- ally observed that they are ill natured. The truth is, that the deformed, like all other men, are displeased with inferiority, and endeavour to gain ground by good or bad means, as they are virtuous or corrupt." — Johnson.

5 That is, encircled. Steevens would read with Hanmer : " Un- til my head that this misshap'd trunk bears." Otherwise, he ob- serves, the trunk that bears the head is to be encircled with the crown, and not the head itself.

SC II. OF HENRY VI. 397

And set the murderous Machiavel* to school.

Can I do this, and cannot get a crown ?

Tut ! were it further oft", I'll pluck it down.7 [Exit

• The quarto reads, " And set the aspiring Catiline to school." Hy which the anachronism is also avoided. Machiavel is men- t.iin«:il in various books of the Poet's age as the great exemplar of profound politicians.

7 This speech is a great enlargement and improvement upon the quarto. Nevertheless, the most characteristic parts are found there, insomuch that no one, it should seem, can well avoid the conclusion, that the original form of the speech could have come from none other than the delineator of the full-grown Richard. But the reader shall have the means of judgiug for himself:

'• Ay, Edward will use women honourably. Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, That from his loins no issue might succeed, To hinder me from the golden time I look for : For I am not yet look'd on in the world. First is there Edward, Clarence, and Henry, And bis son, and all they look for issue Of their loins, ere I can plant myself: A cold premeditation for my purpose ! What other pleasure is there in the world beside 1 I will go rlad my body in gay ornaments, And lull myself within a lady's lap, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. O, monstrous man, to harbour such a thought ! Why, love did scorn me in my mother's womb ; And, for I should not deal in her affairs, She did corrupt frail nature in the flesh, And plac'd an envious mountain on my back, Where sits deformity to mock my body ; To dry mine arm up like a wither'd shrimp; To make my legs of an unequal size. And am I, then, a man to be belov'd T Easier for me to compass twenty crowns. Tut ' 1 can smile, and murder when I smile ; 1 cry, content, to that which grieves me most , I can add colours to the chameleon ; And for a need change shapes with Proteus, And set the aspiring Catiline to school. Can 1 do this, and cannot get the crown T Tush ! were it ten times higher, I'll pull it down." •

398 THE THIRD PART ACT III.

SCENE III. France. A Room in the Palace.

Flourish. Enter King LEWIS, and Lady BONA, attended; the King takes his State. Then enter Queen MARGARET, Prince EDWARD, and the Earl of OXFORD.

Lew. Fair queen of England, worthy Margaret, Sit down with us : it ill befits thy state And birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis

doth sit.

Queen. No, mighty king of France ; now Mar- garet

Must strike her sail, and learn a while to serve, Where kings command. I was, I must confess, Great Albion's queen in former golden days ; But now mischance hath trod my title down, And with dishonour laid me on the ground, Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, And to my humble seat conform myself.

Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this

deep despair] Queen. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with

tears, And stops my tongue, while heart is drown 'd in cares.

Lew. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, And sit thee by our side : yield not thy neck

[Seats her by him,

To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, Queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief.

Queen. Those gracious words revive my droop ing thoughts,

si.. 111. or HENRY vi. SUB

And give my tonirur-tied sorrows leave to speuk. Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis. That Henry, sole possessor of my love, l> of a king become a banish 'd man, And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn ; While proud ambitious Edward, duke of York, Usurps the regal title, and the seat Of England's true-anointed lawful king. This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret, With this my son, Prince Edward, Henry's heir, Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid ; And, if thou fail us, all our hope is done. Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help ; Our people and our peers are both misled, Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight.

l.i >r. Renowned queen, with patience calm the

storm, While we bethink a means to break it oft*.

Queen. The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe.

Lew. The more I stay, the more I'll succour thee.

Queen. O ! but impatience waiteth on true sorrow : And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow.

Enter WAKWICK,' attended.

IAM. What's he, approacheth boldly to our pres- ence?

1 The part which Warwick is made to act in this srene, though amply justified by the Chronicles, seems to have little or no foun- dation in fart. The king1 was privately married to the lady I'.i z- abeth Grey, May 1, 14434, and there was no open rupture between him and Warwick till the fall of 1468, though the elements I i'i long been secretly preparing for a storm. The causes that finally set the king-maker so fiercely against his royal creature are cloud- ed in mystery ; perhaps, u bath been said, " we need seek <w

400 THE THIRD PART ACT III

Queen. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest

friend.

Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick ! What brings thee to France?

[Ife descends. Queen MARGARET rises Queen. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise ; For this is he that moves both wind and tide.

War. From worthy Edward, king of Albion, My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 1 come, in kindness and unfeigned love, First, to do greetings to thy royal person ; And then, to crave a league of amity ; And lastly, to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant That virtuous lady Bona, thy fair sister, To England's king in lawful marriage.

Queen. [Aside.] If that go forward, Henry's hope

is done.

War. [To BONA.] And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf,

further than that jealousy and ingratitude which is too often expe rienced in those who are under obligations too great to he dis charged." For settling the point in hand, probably the best w«i can do is to quote from Dr. Lingard. " Many writers,'' says he, " tell us that the enmity of Warwick arose from his disappoint- ment, caused by Edward's clandestine marriage with Elizabeth. If we may believe them, the earl was at that very time in France negotiating on the part of the king a marriage with Bona of Sa- voy, sister lo the queen of France ; and, having succeeded in hij mission, brougn ;ack with him the count of Dampmartin as am bassador from Louis. To me this whole story appears a fiction. I. It is not to be found in the more ancient historians. 2. War- wick was not at that time in France. On the 20th of April, ten days before the marriage, he was employed in negotiating a truce with the French envoys in London, and on the 26th of May, about three weeks after it, was appointed to treat of another truce with the king of Scots. Nor could he bring Dampmartin with him lo England ; for that nobleman was committed a prisoner lo thi Basiile in September, 1463, and remained there till JMuj, 1165. '

»C. III. OF HENRY VI. 401

I urn commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart; Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue.

Queen. King Lewis, and lady Bona, hear m«

speak,

Before you answer Warwick. His demand Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love^ But from deceit, bred by necessity ; For how can tyrants safely govern home, Unless abroad they purchase great alliance ? To prove him tyrant this reason may suffice,— That Henry liveth still ; but, were he dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henry's son- Look, therefore, Lewis, that by this league and mar- riage

Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour ; For though usurpers sway the rule a while, Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs.

I V<ir. Injurious Margaret !

Prince. And why not queen?

War. Because thy father Henry did usurp, And thou no more art prince, than she is queen.

Ozf. Then Warwick disannuls great John of

Gaunt,

Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain ; And, after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France : From these our Henry lineally descends.

War. Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth dia course,

402 THE THIRD PART ACT 111

Yon told not how Henry the Sixth hath lost All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten? Methinks these peers of France should smile at that But for the rest, — you tell a pedigree Of threescore and two years; a silly time To make prescription for a kingdom's worth.

Oxf. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against

thy liege,

Whom thou obeyedst thirty-and-six years, And not bewray thy treason with a blush ?

War. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame ! leave Henry, and call Edward king.

Oxf. Call him my king, by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Vere, Was done to death ? 2 and more than so, my father Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, When nature brought him to the door of death?3 No, Warwick, no ; while life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster.

War. And I the house of York.

Lew. Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, and Ox- ford,

Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside, Wliile I use further conference with Warwick.

* This was during Edward's first parliament, in 1461, and it thus mentioned in the Chronicles : " The earle of Oxford, far striken in age, and his sonne and heire, the lord Awbreie Veer either through malice of their enimies, or for that they had ofiend- ed the king, were both, with diverse of their counsellors, attainted and put to execution ; which caused John earle of Oxford ever after to rebel!." — It will not be amiss to add, that this littl«; speech, relishing so choicely of Shakespeare, is but very slightly altered from the quarto. H.

This passage unavoidably brings to mind that admirable image of old age in Sackville's Induction to the Mirror for Magistrates •* His withered fist s';|l knocking ai death's door."

!SC. Ill OF HENRY VI. 4(K]

Qiinn. Heaven grant that Warwick's words be- witch liim not I [ They stand aloof.

Lew. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy

conscience,

Is Edward your true king? for I were loth To link with him that were not lawful chosen.

War Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour

Lac. But is he gracious in the people's eye?

War. The more, that Henry was unfortunate.

Lew. Then further ; all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth the measure of his love Unto our sister Bona.

War. Such it seems,

As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say, and swear, That this his love was an eternal plant,4 Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, The leaves and fruit maintnin'd with beauty's sun % Exempt from envy,* but not from disdain, Unless the lady Bona quit his pain.

Lew. Now, sister, let us hear your firm resolve

Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine. — [To WAR.] Yet I confess, that often ere this day, When I have heard your king's desert, recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire.

Lac. Then, Warwick, thus : Our sister shall be

Edward's ;

And now forthwith shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd. —

4 In (be language of Shakespeare's time, by an eternal plant was meant what we now rail a perennial one.

• Steevens thinks that envy, in this place, as in many others, ii pot for m.ilicf or hatred. His situation places him above these though it cannot secure bim from female disdain.

404 THE THIRD PART ACT lit

Draw near, Queen Margaret, and be a witness, That Bona shall be wife to the English king

Prince. To Edward, but not to the English king

Queen. Deceitful Warwick ! it was thy device By this alliance to make void my suit: Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend.

Ltew. And still is friend to him and Margaret; But if your title to the crown be weak, As may appear by Edward's good success. Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd From giving aid, which late I promised. Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand, That your estate requires, and mine can yield.

War. Henry now lives in Scotland, at his ease. Where, having nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, You have a father able to maintain you ; * And better 'twere you troubled him than France.

Queen. Peace! impudent and shameless Warwick, Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings ! I will not hence, till with my talk and tears, Both full of truth, I make King Lewis behold Thy sly conveyance,7 and thy lord's false love; For both of you are birds of self-same feather.

[.4 Horn sounded within.

Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. My lord ambassador, these letters are foi

you, Sent from your brother, marquess Montague. —

* Johnson is inclined to think this ironical, the poverty of Mar garet's father being a frequent topic of repr^ich.

T Conveyance is used for any crafty artiii.e. See King Ri-jl ard II., Act iv. sc. 1, note 24.

SO. III. OF HENRY VI. 4(>5

These from our king unto your majesty. — And, madam, these for you ; from whom 1 know not. [They all read their Lit dm.

Off. I like it well, that our fair queen and mistress Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at his.

Prince. Nay, mark how Lewis stamp? as he were

nettled : I hope all's for the best.

Lew. Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair queen?

Queen. Mine, such as fill my heart with unhop'd joys.

War. Mine, full of sorrow and heart's discontent.

Lew. What ! has your king married the lady Grey 7 And now, to sooth8 your forgery and his, Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? Is this the alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner?

Queen. I told your majesty as much before : This proveth Edward's love, and Warwick's honesty.

War. King Lewis, I here protest, in sight of

Heaven,

And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss, That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's; No more my king, for he dishonours me, But most himself, if he could see his shame. Did I forget, that by the house of York My father came untimely to his death?8

' To smith, in ancient language, was " to countenance a hood or forged tale, to uphold one in his lalke, and a flume it to be true which he speaketh." — Dartt.

' This is a mistake. Salisbury was wounded and lakcn pris- oner by the Lancastrians in the battle of NVakefield ; was soon after beheaded, and his head, along with York's, set upon the gates of York. See Act i. sc. 4, note 9, and Act ii. sc 6 note 7

H.

40fi THE THIRD PART ACT Ilk

Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ! I0 Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right ? And am I guerdon'd at the last with shame? Shame on himself! for my desert is honour: And, to repair my honour lost for him, I here renounce him, and return to Henry. My noble queen, let former grudges pass, And henceforth I am thy true servitor. I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona, And replant Henry in his former state.

Queen. Warwick, these words have turn'd my

hate to love ;

And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becom'st King Henry's friend.

War. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That, if Ring Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I'll undertake to land them on our coast, And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him . And as for Clarence, as my letters tell me, He's very likely now to fall from him, For matching more for wanton lust than honour, Or than for strength and safety of our country.

Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be reveng'd, But by thy help to this distressed queen'?

Queen. Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry

live, Unless thou rescue him from foul despair?

10 " King Edward did attempt a thing once in the carles house, which was much against the carles honestie, (whether he would have deflowred his daughter or his neece, the certaintie was not foi both their honours revealed.) for surely such a thing was attempt ed by king Edward." — Holinshed.

BC. III. OF HENKV VI. 407

linn/ 1. My quarrel, and this English queen's, are one.

War. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours.

Lew. And mine with hers, and thine, and Mar- garet's.

Therefore, at last I firmly am resolv'd, You shall have aid.

Queen. Let me give humble thanks for all at once.

Lew. Then, England's messenger, return in post ; And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over maskers, To revel it with him and his new bride : Thou seest what's past; go fear" thy king withal.

Bona. Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower

shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake.

Queen. Tell him, my mourning weeds are laid

aside, And I am ready to put armour on.

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me

wrong,

And therefore I'll uncrown him, ere't be long. There's thy reward : be gone.1* [Exit Mess.

Lew. But, Warwick,

Thou and Oxford, with five thousand men, Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle , And, as occasion serves, this noble queen And prince shall follow with a fresh supply. Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt; — What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty 7

11 That is, frighten. Fear was often so used. See t Henry IV., Act iv. sc. 4, note 10.

11 Here we are to suppose that, according to ancient custom Warwick makes a present to the herald or messenger, who in UM old play it called a Pott. See King Henry V., Act iii te 6 aot« IX

408 THE THIRD PART ACT II!

War. Tliis shall assure my constant loyalty: — That if our queen and this young prince agree, I'll join mine eldest daughter,13 and my joy, To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands.

Queen. Yes, I agree, and thank you for youi

motion. —

Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, Therefore, delay not, give thy hand to Warwick , And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine.

Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it ; And here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand.

[He gives his Hand to WARWICK..

Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers shall

be levied,

And thou, lord Bourbon, our high admiral, Shall waft them over with our royal fleet. — I long, till Edward fall by war's mischance, For mocking marriage with a dame of France.

[Exeunt all but WARWICK

War. I came from Edward as ambassador, But I return his sworn and mortal foe : Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, But dreadful war shall answer his demand. Had he none else to make a stale14 but me?

11 This is a departure from history, for Edward prince of Walei was married to Anne, second daughter of the earl of Warwick In fact Isabella, his eldest daughter, was married to Clarence in 1468. There is, however, no inconsistency in the present pro- posal, for at the time represented neither of Warwick's daughter was married

14 Stale was much used for stalking horse, a device whereby the hunter stole upon the game. See Much Ado about Nothing, Act ii. sc. 3, note 8. It was also used for a lure, pretence, or de- coy ; as in a passage of Sidney's: "One bird caught served as » stale to bring in more." See, also, quotations in Measure fo< Measure, Act ii. sc. 1, note 7. H.

80. III. OF HENRY VI. 409

Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown, And I'll be chief to bring linn down again : Not that I pity Henry's misery, But seek revenge ou Edward's mockery. [Exit

ACT IV.

2iCENE I. London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter GLOSTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, MONTAGUE, and Others.

Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think

you

Of this new marriage with the lady Grey? Hath not our brother made a worthy choice?

Clar. Alas ! you know, 'tis far from hence to

France :

How could he stay till Warwick made return? Som. My lords, forbear this talk : here comes the king.

Flourish. Enter King EDWARD, attended; Lady GREY, as Queen; PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HAS- TINGS, and Others.

Glo. And his well-chosen bride.

Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I think.

K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like you

our choice, That you stand pensive, as half malcontent 1

410 THE THIRD PART ACT IV

Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl of

Warwick ;

Which are so weak of courage, and in judgment, That they'll take no offence at our abuse.

K. Edw. Suppose they take offence without a

cause,

They are but Lewis and Warwick: I am Edward,

Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will.

Glo. And you shall have your will, because our

king ; Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well.

K. Edw. Yea, brother Richard, are you offended

too?

Glo. Not I :

No ; God forbid, that I should wish them sever'd Whom God hath join'd together : ay, and 'twere

pity, To sunder them that yoke so well together.

K. Edw. Setting your scorns and your mislike

aside,

Tell me some reason, why the lady Grey Should not become my wife, and England's queen : — And you too, Somerset, and Montague, Speak freely what you think.

Cla. Then this is mine opinion, that Ring Lewis Becomes your enemy, for mocking him About the marriage of the lady Bona.

Glo. And Warwick, doing what you gave in

charge, Is now dishonoured by this new marriage.

K. Edw. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be

appeas'd, By such invention as I can devise 1

Mont. Yet to have join'd with France in suck alliance,

!»C. 1. OF HENRY VI. 411

Would more Imve strengthen'd this our common.

wealtli

'(isiinst foreign storms, than any home-bred marriage. Hast. Why, knows not Montague, that of itself England is safe, if true within itself?

Mont. But the safer, when 'tis hack'd with France. Hast. 'Tis better using France, than trusting

France.

Let us be back'd with God, and with the seas Which He hath given for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves : la them, and in ourselves, our safety lies.

Clar. For this one speech, lord Hastings well

deserves To have the heir of the lord Hungerford.

K. Edw. Ay, what of that? it was my will and

grant ; And for tlus once my will shall stand for law.

Glo. And yet, methinks your grace hath not done

well,

To give the heir and daughter of lord Scales Unl'i the brother of your loving bride : She better would have fitted me, or Clarence; But in your bride you bury brotherhood.

Clar. Or else you would not have bestow'd the

heir1

Of the lord Bonville on your new wife's son, And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere.*

1 Until the Restoration minors coming' into possession of estates were in the wardship of the king, who bfstoirtd them on ois favourites, or in oiher words gave them up to plunder, and afterwards disposed of (hem in marriage as he pleased.

1 The king's ad-ancement of his wife's family is thus men- tioned by Holinsned : <« Hir lather was created carle Rivers, and made high constable of England : hir brother, lord Anihonie. was married to the solo heire of Thomas lord Scales : sir Thomaj

412 THE THIRD PART ACT TV

K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wife, That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee.

Clar. In choosing for yourself you show'd yoiu

judgment ;

Which being shallow, you shall give me leave To play the broker in mine own behalf; And to that end, I shortly mind to leave you.

K. Edw. Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be

king, And not be tied unto his brother's will.

Q. Eliz. My lords, before it pleas'd his majesty To raise my state to title of a queen, Do me but right, and you must all confess That I was not ignoble of descent ; s And meaner than myself have had like fortune. But as this title honours me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow.

K.. Edw. My love, forbear to fawn upon theii

frowns :

What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee, So long as Edward is thy constant friend, And their true sovereign, whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, Unless they seek for hatred at my hands ;

Graie. sonne to sir John Graie, the queens first husband, was cre- ated marquesse of Dorset, and married to Cicelie, heire to the .'ord Bonville." In fact, however, the queen's son Thomas was mar- ried to Anne, the king's niece, daughter and heiress to the duke of Exeter. These things were done in the spring of 1465, the king's marriage having been publicly acknowledged a short time before, and the queen having been introduced at court and crowned

H.

1 Her father was Sir Richard Woodville, afterwards earl of Rivers ; her mother Jaquetta, duchess dowager of Bedford, who was daughter of Peter of Luxemburg, earl of St. Paul, and widow of John duke of Bedford, brother to King Henrv V

Sf. I. OF HENRY VL 413

Which if they do, yet will I keep thce safe, And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. Glo. [Aside.] I hear, yet say not much, hut think the more.

Enter a Messenger.

K. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters, or what

news, From France?

Mess. My sovereign liege, no letters, and few

words ;

But such :is I, without your special pardon, Dare not relate.

K. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee : therefore, iii

brief, Tell me their words as near as thou canst guesa

them.

What answer makes King Lewis unto our letters ? Mess. At my depart, these were his very words: •* Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king, That Lewis of France is sending over maskers, To revel it with him and his new hride."

K. Edw. Is Lewis so brave 1 belike, he thinks me

Henry. But what said lady Bona to my marriage ?

Mess. These were her words, utter'd with mild

disdain :

"Tell him, in hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake."

K. Edw. I blame not her, she could say little less; She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? For I have heard, that she was there in place.4

4 In placf signifies there present. The expression is of frequent occurrence in old English writers.

114 THE THIRD PART ACT IV

Mess. " Tell him," quoth she, " my mourning

weeds are done,* And I am ready to put armour on."

K. Edw. Belike, she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwick to these injuries?

Mess. He, more incens'd against your majesty Than all the rest, discharg'd me with these words : " Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long." K. Edw. Ha ! durst the traitor breathe out so

proud words?

Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarn'd : They shall have wars, and pay for their presumption But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret ?

Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign ; they are so link'd

in friendship, That young Prince Edward marries Warwick*

daughter. Clar. Belike, the elder ; Clarence will have the

younger.6

Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter ; That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage I may not prove inferior to yourself. — Vou, that love me and Warwick, follow me.7

[Exit CLARENCE, and SOMERSET failures. Glo. [Aside.] Not I :

' That is, my mourning1 is ended.

9 This is consonant with the former passage of this play, though at variance with what really happened. See note 13 of the pre- ceding scene.

7 Johnson has remarked upon the actual improbability of Clar- ence making this speech in the king's hearing. When the ear. of Essex attempted to raise a rebellion in the city, with a design, as was supposed, to storm the queen's palace, he ran about the streets with his sword drawn, crying out, "They that love me follow me."

J.C. I. OF HENRY VI. 415

My thoughts aim at n further matter; I Stay not fur love of Ed\vard, hirt the crown.

K. Edw. Clarence and Somerst-t both gone to

Warwick !

Yet am I urm'd against the worst can happen ; And haste is needful in this desperate case. — Pembroke, and Stafford, you in our behalf Go levy men, and make prepare for war ; They are already, or quickly will be landed . Myself in person will straight follow you.

[Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFORD, But, ere I go, Hastings, and Montague, Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, Are near to Warwick, by blood, and by alliance : Tell me, if you love Warwick more than me : If it be so, then both depart to him : I rather wish you foes, than hollow friends ; But, if you mind to hold your true obedience, Give me assurance with some friendly vow, That I may never have you in suspect.

Mont. So God help Montague, as he proves true !

Hast. And Hastings, as he favours Edward's cause !

K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us?

Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you.

K. Echo. Why so ; then am I sure of victory. Now therefore let us hence, and lose no hour, Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power.

[Exeunt

410 THE THIRD PART ACT TT.

SCENE II. A Plain in Warwicksliire.

Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French and othe.r Forces.

War. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well : The common people by numbers swarm to us.

Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET.

But. see, where Somerset and Clarence come: — Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends'?

Clar. Fear not that, my lord.

War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto War- wick ;

And welcome, Somerset : — I hold it cowardice To rest mistrustful where a noble heart IJath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love ; Else might I tlu'nk that Clarence, Edward's brother, Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings : But welcome, sweet Clarence ; my daughter shall

be thine.

And now what rests, but in night's coverture. Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, His soldiers lurking in the towns about, And but attended by a simple guard, We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? Our scouts have found the adventure very easy : That, as Ulysses, and stout Diomede, With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents, And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds ; * So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle,

1 We are told by some of the writers of the Trojan story, that the crpture of these horses was one of the necessary preliminaries of tht fate of Troy.

»C. III. OF MF.NHY VI. Ill

At unawares may beat down Edward u guard, Ami sci/.t- himself; I say not — slaughter him, For I intend liut only to surprise him.* — You, that will follow me to this attempt, Applaud the name of Henry, with your leader.

[They all cry, Hmry ! Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort : For Warwick and his friends, God and St. George !

[Ercunt

SCENE III. EDWARD'S Camp, near Warwick.

Enter certain Watchmen, to guard the King's Tent.

1 Watch. Come on, my masters ; each man tako

his stand : The king by this is set him down to sleep.

2 Watr h. What! will he not to bed?

1 Watch. Why, no ; for he hath made a solemn

vow

Never to lie and take his natural rest, Till Warwick or himself be cjuite suppress'd.

2 Watch. To-morrow, then, belike, shall be tho

day, If Warwick be so near as men report.

3 Watch. But say, I pray, what nobleman is

that, That with the king here resteth in his tent ?

1 Watr h. Tis the lord Hastings, the king's chie£

est friend.

3 Watch. O ! is it so ? But why commands the king,

1 This and the six preceding linos were new in the folio. Men tioned merely on account of the classical allusion. See Act li •c. 2, note 11. H

4IS THE THIRD PART ACT IV

That Iris chief followers lodge in towns about him, While he himself keeps in the cold field ?

2 Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more

dangerous.

3 Watch. Ay ; but give me worship and quiet

ness ;

1 like it better than a dangerous honour. If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted, he would waken him.

1 Watch. Unless our halberds did shut up his

passage.

2 Watch. Ay ; wherefore else guard we his royal

tent, But to defend his person from night foes ?

Enter WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD, SOMERSET, and Forces.

War. This is his tent ; and see, where stand hia

guard.

Courage, my masters ! honour now, or never ! But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. 1 Watch. Who goes there ? •2 Watch. Stay, or thou diest.

("WARWICK, and the Rest, cry all — Warwick! Warwick! and set upon the. Guard; who Jly, crying, Arm! Arm! WARWICK, and t/ie Rest, following them.

Drums bt.ating, and Trumpets sounding, re-enter WAR- WICK, and the Rest, bringing the King out in a Gown, sitting in a Chair : GLOSTER and HAS- TINGS fly.

Som. What are they that fly there 1

War Richard, and Hastings: let them go; here'i the duke.

SC. Ttt. OF HENRY VI. 419

K. Edw. The duke ! why, Warwick, when we

parted last, Thou call'dst me king?

War. Ay, but the case is alter'd :

When you disgrac'd me in my emb.issade, Then I degraded you from being king, And come now to create you duke of York. Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom, That know not how to use ambassadors, Nor how to be contented with one wife, Nor how to use your brothers brotherly, Nor how to study for the people's welfare, Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies?

K. Edw. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here

too?

Nay, then I see that Edward needs must down. — Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, Of thee thyself, and all thy complices, Edward will always bear himself as king: Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel.

War. Then, for his mind ' be Edward England's

king: [Takes off his Crown.

But Henry now shall wear the English crown, And be true king indeed ; thou but the shadow. — My lord of Somerset, at my request See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd Unto my brother, archbishop of York. When I have fought with Pembroke and his fel

lows,

I'll follow you, and tell what answer Lewis and the ladv Bona send to him : — Now, for a while farewell, good duke of York.

1 That is. in bis mind ; a* far as his own mind gue*

4:2(1 THK THIRD PART ACT IV

K. Echo. What fates impose, that men must needs

abide ; It boots not to resist both wind and tide.

[Exit King EDWARD, led out; SOMERSET

with him.

Oxf. What now remains, my lords, for us to do, But march to London with our soldiers 1

War. Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do; To free King Henry from imprisonment, And see him seated in the regal throne.2 [Exeunt.

SCENE IV. London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter Queen ELIZABETH and RIVERS.

Riv. Madam, what makes you in this sudden

change ? Q. Eliz. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to

learn What late misfortune is befall'n King Edward?

* This capture of Edward is related by the chroniclers as hav- ing taken place in the latter part of 1469. In Holinshed the story runs thus : " After the battell at Hedgecote. commonlie called Bari- berie field, the northerne men resorted toward Warwike. where the earle had gathered a great multitude of people. The king in tins meane time had assembled his power, and was comming toward the rarle. who, being advertised thereof, sent to the duke of Clarence, requiring him to come and joine with him. The duke, being inn farre off, with all speed repaired to the earle, and so they joined their powers together, upon secret knowledge had, that the king tooke small heed to himselfe, nothing doubting anie outward attempt of nis enimies. The earle, intending not to leese such opportunitie. in the dead of the night, with an elect companie of men, set on the kings field, killing them that kept the watch, and yer the kin» was ware, at a place called Wolnie, he was taken prisoner and brought to the castell of VVarwike. And, to the intent his friends should not know what was become of him, the earle caused him by se'-rei journies in the night to be conveied to Middleham casiell in Yorkeshirc, and there to be kept under the costodie of the arch- bishop of Vorke, and other his freecds ir. those parties." M.

SC. IV. OF HENKY VI. 4'2l

Riv Wliat ! loss of some pitcli'd battle against Warwick ?

Q. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royal person.

Kii\ Then, is my sovereign slain ?

Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken pris- oner;

Either betray 'd by falsehood of his guard, Or by his foe surpris'd at unawares : And, us I further have to understand, Is new committed to the bishop of York, Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe.

Riv. These news, I must confess, are full of grief; Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may : Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day

Q. Eliz. Till then, fair hope must hinder life's

decay ;

And I the rather wean me from despair, For love of Edward's offspring in my womb : This is it that makes me bridle passion, And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross ; Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear, And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighs, Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown

Riv. But, madam, where is Warwick then be cornel

Q. Eliz. I am informed that he comes towards

London,

To set the crown once more on Henry's head : Guess thou the rest ; King Edward's friends must

down.

But, to prevent the tyrant's violence, (For trust not him that liuth once broken faith,) I'll ln'iice forthwith unto the sanctuary, To save at least the heir of Edward's right :

422 THE THIRD PART ACT IT

Theie shall I rest secure from force, and fraud.

Come, therefore, let us fly while we may fly;

If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. [Exeunt

SCENE V.

A Park near Middleham Castle in Yorkshire.

Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, Sir WILLIAM STANLEY and Others.

Glo. Now, my lord Hastings, and Sir William

Stanley,

Leave oft' to wonder why I drew you hither, Into this chiefest thicket of the park. Thus stands the case : You know, our king, my

brother,

Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands He hath good usage and great liberty ; And often, but attended with weak guard, Comes hunting this way to disport himself. I have advertis'd him by secret means, That if about this hour he make this way, Under the colour of his usual game, He shall here find his friends, with horse and men, To set him free from his captivity.1

1 So in Holinshed : " King Edward, being1 thus in captivitie, •pake ever faire to the archbishop, and to his other keepers, so that he had leave diverse daies to go hunt. Now on a daie, when he was thus abrode, there met with him sir William Stanlie and di- verse other of his friends, with such a great band of men, that neither his keepers would nor once durst move him to returne unto prison againe. After that he wras once at libertie, he came to Yorke. where he was joifullie received, and taried there two daies ; but when he perceived he coald get no arinie togilher in that countrie, he turned to Lancaster, where he found his cham- oerlaine the lord Hustings well accompanied, by whose aid he came safelie to London." H

SC. T OK HENRY VI. 428

Enter King EDWARD and a Huntsman.

Hunt. This way, my lord, for this way lies the game.

K. Edic. Nay, this way, man ; see, where the

huntsmen stand. —

Now, brother of Gloster, lord Hastings, arid the rest, Stand you thus close to steal the bishop's deer?

Gto. Brother, the time and case requireth haste : Your horse stands ready at the park corner.

K. Edw. But whither shall we then?

Hast. To Lynn, my lord ; and ship from thence to Flanders.

Glo. Well guess'd, believe me ; for that was my meaning.

K. Edw. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness.

Glo. But wherefore stay we ? 'tis no time to talk.

K. Edw. Huntsman, what say'st thou ? wilt thou go along?

Hunt. Better do so, than tarry and be hang'd.

Glo. Come then, away ! let's have no more ado.

K. Edio. Bishop, farewell : shield thee from War- wick's frown ; And pray that I may repossess the crown.* [Exeunt .

* The whole matter of Edward's captivity and escape has been »et aside by laler writers as a fiction of the chroniclers. Here ago in the great learning: and exemplary candour of Dr. Lingard will amply warrant our quoting him. " By modern writers," says be, " the captivity of Edward has been scornfully rejected. Hume tavi it is contradicted by records. Carte and Henry pronounce it iseredibleand romantic. But, if it were, they should have accounted for what in that case were more inconceivable, the mention which is made of it by almost every writer of the age, whether for* or native ; oven by Cominrs, who -iays (hat be rorrivod llic priih eipal incidents of Edward's history from the mouth of Edward uim-ielf ; and by the annalist of Croyland, who was high in th« confidence of that monarch. But there is a record which placet-

424 THE THIRD PART A«rT IV

SCENE VI. A Room in the Towei.

Enter King HENRY, CLARENCE, WARWICK, SOM- ERSET, young RICHMOND, OXFORD, MONTAGUE, Lieutenant of the Tower, and Attendants.

K. lien. Master lieutenant, now that God and

friends

Have shaken Edward from the regal seat, And turn'd my captive state to liberty, My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joya, At our enlargement, what are thy due fees?

Lint. Subjects may challenge nothing of their

sovereigns ;

But, if an humble prayer may prevail, I then crave pardon of your majesty.

K. Hen. For what, lieutenant ? for well using me 1 Nay, be thou sure, I'll well requite thy kindness, For that it made my imprisonment a pleasure : Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts, At last, by notes of household harmony, They quite forget their loss of liberty. — But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, And chiefly therefore I thank God, and thee ;

the imprisonment beyond a doubt, the attainder of Clarence, it which the king enumerates it among his offences : ' as in jupart- yng the king's royall estate, persone and life in straite warde, putting him thereby from all his liherlie, aftre procurying gret« commocions.' " Perhaps we should add that Hume's argument proceeds on the supposition, that the alleged captivity was ni 1470, and is entirely nonsuited by referring to the true date, which was the latter part of 1469. Its not being mentioned in the king'* proclamation against Clarence in 1470, nowise proves the point -• for on the Christmas before Clarence had a full pardon, and that proclamation refers only to offences committed after ihc pardot was granted B.

SC. VI. Or HENRY VI. <fcJ5

lit; was tin? author, thou the instrument. Therefore, tliat I may conquer fortune's spite, By liviujr low, where fortune cannot hurt me; Arid that the people of this blessed land May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars; Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, I here resign my government to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.

War. Your grace hath still been fam'd for vir- tuous,

And now may seem as wise as virtuous, By spying and avoiding fortune's malice ; For few men rightly temper with the stars:1 Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, For choosing me, when Clarence is in place.

Clar. No, Warwick, thou art worthy of the

sway,

To whom the heavens in thy nativity Adjudg'd an olive branch, and laurel crown, As likely to be blest in peace and war ; And therefore I yield thee my free consent.

War. And I choose Clarence only for protector. K. Hen. Warwick and Clarence, give me both

your hands : — Now join your hands, and, with your hands, your

hearts,

That no dissension hinder government : I make you both protectors of this land; While I myself will lead a private life, And in devotion spend my latter days, To sin's rebuke, and my Creator's praise.

1 1 '<//-. What answers Clarence to his sovereign! will ?

1 Few inni accommodate themselves to their destiny, or jilapl themselves to circumstance:*.

«26 THE THIRD PART ACT IV

Clar That he consents, if Warwick yield con

sent ; For on thy fortune I repose myself.

War. Why then, though loth, yet must I be con

tent:

We'll yoke together, like a double shadow To Henry's body, and supply his place ; 1 mean, in bearing weight of government, While he enjoys the honour, and his ease. And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful, Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor, And all his lands and goods be confiscate.

Clar. What else, an that succession be deter

min'd ? War. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his

part. K. Hen. But, with the first of all your chief

affairs,

Let me entreat, (for I command no more,) That Margaret your queen, and my son Edward, Be sent for, to return from France with speed ; For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear My joy of liberty is half eclips'd.

Clar. It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed. K. Hen. My lord of Somerset, what youth is that, Of whom you seem to have so tender care ?

Som. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Rich mond.8

* This " young Henry," then in his tenth year, was sou to Ed- mund Tudor, earl of Richmond, and Margaret, daughter and heir to John Beaufort, first duke of Somerset. Edmund, again, wa« son to Katharine, widow of Henry V., by her second husband Owen Tudor, an untitled gentleman of Wales. The groundwork of the present representation was furnished by the chroniclers. The occasion was this : The young earl's uncle, Jasper Tudor, brought his nephew to London, and introduced him to King Henry, Soon after the latter was released from the Tower 5 " whome,*

?C. VI. Of HF.NRY VI. 427

K. Hen. Come hither, England's hope : If secret powers [I-1"!/* /«'•' Hand on his Head

Suggest hut truth to my divining thoughts, This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. His looks ar« full of peaceful majesty; II is head by nature fram'd to wear a crown, 1 1 is hand to wield a sceptre; and himself Likely in time to bless a regal throne. Make much of him, my lords; for this is he, Must help you more than you are hurt by me.

Enter a Messenger.

War. What news, my friend 1

Mess. That Edward is escaped from your brother. And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.

War. Unsavoury news ! But how made he es- cape?

Mess. He was convey'd by Richard duke of Glos-

ter,

And the lord Hastings, who attended him a In secret ambush on the forest side, And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him : For hunting was his daily exercise.

says Holinshed, " when the king had a good while beheld, he said to such princes as were with him, — • l.o, sun-lie this is he, to whom both we and oar adversaries, leaving the possession of all things, shall hereafter give roome and place.' So that it might softne probable, by the coherence of holie Henries prediction with the issue falling out in truth, that for the time he was indued with a propheticall spirit." It is said that after the earl berama King Henry VII., in gratitude for this early presage he solicited the pope to enroll Henry VI. among the saints of the Church; but was refuted, either because he would not pay (he price, or as Baron supposes, lest, •• as Henry was reputed in iii»- world •broad but for a simple man, the estimation of that kind of hon- our might be diminished, if there were not distance kept be.weel mnocents and saints." H.

' That is, waitttd for him.

428 THE THIRD PART ACT IV

War. My brother was to-~ careless of his charge. — But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide A. salve for any sore that may heticle.

[Exeunt King HENRY, WAR., CLAR., Lieut^ and Attendants.

iSom. My lord, I like not of this flight of Ed- ward's ;

For, doubtless, Burgundy will yield him help, And we shall have more wars, before't be long. As Henry's late presaging prophecy Did glad my heart with hope of this young Rich- mond,

So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts What may befall him, to his harm, and ours : Therefore, lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany, Till storms be past of civil enmity.

Oif. Ay ; for if Edward repossess the crown, 'Tis like, that Richmond with the rest shall down.

Soni. It shall be so ; he shall to Brittany. Come, therefore, let's about it speedily.4 [Exeunt

SCENE VII. Before York.

Enter King EDWARD, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and Forces.

K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings,

and the rest,

Vet thus far fortune maketh us amends, And says that once more I shall interchange

4 Nearly all this scene was new in the folio, there being-, out of 102 lines, only 4 taken whole, and 10 more or less altered from the quarto; and of these 14 all but 2 are in the short dialogue about voung Henry H.

no. vn. or HENRY vi. 429

My waned state for Henry's regal crown.

Well have we pass'd, and now repass'd the seas,

And brought desir'd help from Burgundy :

What, then, remains, we being thus arriv'd

From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of Yorkt

But that we enter as into our dukedom?

Glo. The gates made fast ! — Brother, I like not

this ;

For many men, that stumble at the threshold, Are well foretold that danger lurks within.

K. Edw. Tush, man ! abodements must not now

affright us :

By fair or foul means we must enter in, For hither will our friends repair to us.

Hast. My liege, I'll knock once more, to sum- mon them.

Enter, on the Walls, the Mayor of York, and Ats Brethren.

May. My lords, we were forewarned of your

coming,

And shut the gates for safety of ourselves ; For now we owe allegiance unto Henry.

K. Edto. But, master mayor, if Henry be your king, Yet Edward, at the least, is duke of York.

May. True, my good lord ; I know you for no less. K. Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my

dukedom, A s being well content with that alone.

Glo [Aside.] But, when the fox hath once got

in his nose,

He'll soon find means to make the body follow. jlast. Why, master mayor, why stand you in a

doubt ? Open the gates : we are King Henry'*, friends.

130 THE THIRD PART ACT IV

May. Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be open'd. [Exeunt from above,

Glo. A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded. Hast. The good old man would fain that ail were

well,

So 'twere not 'long of him ; ' but, being enter'd, I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade Both him arid all his brothers unto reason.

Re-enter tlie Mayor, and two Aldermen, below.

K. Edw. So, master mayor: these gates must

not be shut,

But in the night, or in the time of war. What ! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys ;

[Takes his Keys.

For Edward will defend the town, and thee, And all those friends that deign to follow me.

March. Enter MONTGOMERY and Forces.

Glo. Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery, Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd.

K. Edw. Welcome, Sir John ! But why come

you in arms

Montg. To help King Edward in his time of storm- As every loyal subject ought to do.

K. Edw. Thanks, good Montgomery ; but we now

forget

Our title to the crown, and only claim Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest.

Montg. Then fare you well, for I will hence again I come to serve a king, and not a duke. — Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.

[A March begun

1 That is, " So 'twere not because of him."

9C. VII. OF HENRY VI. 431

K. Edw. Nay, stay, Sir John, a while; and we'll

debate By what safe means the crown may be recover'd.

Montg. What talk you of debating; ? in few words. If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king, I'll leave you to your fortune, and be gone To keep them back that come to succour you : Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title 7

Glo. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nic«

points? K. Edw. When we grow stronger, then we'll

make our claim :

Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning. Hast. Away with scrupulous wit ! now arms

must rule.

Glo. And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand ; The bruit* thereof will bring you many friends.

K. Edw. Then be it as you will ; for 'tis my right, And Henry but usurps the diadem.

Montg. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like him- self; And now will I be Edward's champion.

Hast. Sound, trumpet ! Edward shall be here

proclaim'd. — Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation.

[Gives him a Paper. Flourish. Sold. [Reads.] Edward the Fourth, by the grace of God, king of England and France, and lord of Ireland, &c. Montg. And whosoe'er gainsays King Edward't

right, By this I challenge him to single fight

[Throws down his Gauntlet

Report. See Macbeth, Act v. sc. 7. note X.

4532 THE THIRD PART ACT IT

An. Long live Edward .the Fourth '

K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery ; — and

thanks unto you all :

ff fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. Now, for tliis night, let's harbour here in York, And when the morning sun shall raise his car Above the border of this horizon, We'll forward towards Warwick, and his mates ; For well I wot that Henry is no soldier. — Ah, froward Clarence ! how evil it beseems thee, To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother ! Vet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick. — Come on, brave soldiers ; doubt not of the day ; And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.3

[Exeunt.

SCENE VIII. London. A Room in the Palace.

Enter King HENRY, WARWICK, CLARENCE, MONTAGUE, EXETER, and OXFORD.

War. What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgix, With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders,

* In October, 1470, about a year after his escape from York, Edward, having failed in several schemes for recovering his power embarked from Lynn, and sought refuge with the duke of Hur gundy, who had lately been married to his sister. Being (here fitted out with a fleet and fifteen hundred men. he returned to England, and landed at Ravenspurg, the same place where Hol- mgbroke had come on a similar errand in 13y<t. In loss than two months after his landing, Edward was again on the throne : but his course was one of inexpressible perfidy ; " still bruiting that his comming was not to chalenge the crowne, but onelie the duchie of Yorke ;" and when at last, on this ground, he was let into the city of York, he " received the sacrament, and there solemnlie sware to keepe and observe two speciall articles, — the one, that he should use the citizens after a gentle and courteous mai er, the other, that he should be failhfull and obedient unto king Henries commandments." a

*>;. vin. or HENRY vi. 433

Ilatli pass'd in safety through the narrow seas, And with his troops doth march amain to London; And many iriddy people flock to him.

K. Hf.n. Let's levy men, and beat him back aj/iuii.

Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench.

\Var. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war ; Those will I muster up: — and thou, son Clarence, Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, The knights and gentlemen to come with thee : — Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shall find Men well inclin'd to hear what thou cornmand'st : — And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd, I)> Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends. — My sovereign, with the loving citizens, Like to his island girt in with the ocean, Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs, Shall rest in London, till we come to him. — Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.— Farewell, my sovereign.

K. Hen. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true hope.

Clar. In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand.

A', //in. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate \

Mmit. Comfort, my lord ; — and so I take my leave.

Off. [Kissing HENRY'S Hand.] And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu.

A. I fen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague. And all at once, once more a happy farewell.

War. Farewell, sweet lords : let's meet at COT entry.

[Exeunt WAR., CLAR., OXF., and MONT

K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest a while

434 THE THIRT> PART ACT IV

Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship ! Methinks, the power that Edward hath in field Should not be able to encounter mine.

Exe. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest.

K. Hen. That's not my fear ; my meed ' hatL

got me fame.

I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays ; My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs My mercy dried their water-flowing tears : I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd: Then, why should they love Edward more than

me?

No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace ; And, when the lion fawns upon the lamb, The lamb will never cease to follow him.

[SJiout within. A Lancaster! A Lancaster!

Exe. Hark, hark, my lord ! what shouts are these 1

Enter King EDWARD, GLOSTER, and Soldiers.

K. Edw. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry ! bear

him hence,

And once again proclaim us king of England. — You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow: Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry, And swell so much the higher by their ebb. —

1 Here again we have meed, that is, the thing merited, put foi the r-jerit. See Act ii. sc. 3, note 6. H.

* Mr. Collier thinks this shout should be, A York! A York unless we suppose it to come from some soldiers in Henry's pay But the truth is, one part of Edward's disguise was thai he or- dered his men every where to shout, " Long live King Henry ! '

6C. VIII. OF HENRY VI. 435

Ilencr with him to the Tower ! let him not speak. [Exeunt Some with King HKNKI And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, Where peremptory Warwick now remains : The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay, Cold-biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay.3

Glo. Away betimes, before his forces join, Ajid take the great-grown traitor unawares. Brave warriors, inarch amain towards Coventry.'

[Exeunt

ACT V.

SCENE I. Coventry.

Enter, upon the Walk, WARWICK, tfie Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, and Others.

War. Where is the post that came from valiant

Oxford ? Flow far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?

1 Mess. By this at Dunsmore, inarching hither- ward.

1 The allusion is to the proverb, "Make hay while the tin •bines."

4 On this occasion Henry was betrayed into the hands of Ed- ward by the ar-hbishop of York, in whose care he had been left by Warwick. On the morning of April llth, 1471, the arch bishop, who was brother to Warwick, had Henry out to an official ride through the streets of London, and in the evening he gave orders for Edward to be ndmitted by a postern. The excuse which he alleged was, that he found the city bent on having Ed- ward for their king. Henry, however, was not remanded to thf Tower till after bis cause was again crushed in the battle o* Harm-. M

4#) THE THIRD PART ACT V.

War. How far off is our brother Montague? — Where is the post that came from Montague ? 2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.

Enter Sir JOHN SOMERVILLK.

War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son 1 And, by the guess, how nigh is Clarence now?

Som. At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here some two hours hence.

[Drum heard.

War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum.

Som. It is not his, my lord ; here Southam lies :

The drum your honour hears marcheth from War

wick. War. Who should that be ? belike, unlook'd-for

friends.

Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

March. Enter King EDWARD, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound u

parle.

Glo. See, how the surly Warwick mans the wall. War. O, unbid spite ! is sportful Edward come ? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could hear no news of his repair?

K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the citj

gates,

Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee? Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy, And he shall pardon thee these outrages.

War. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forcef

hence, Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down?

SC. I. OF HENRY VI. 437

Call Warwick patron, and he penitent,

And thou slmlt still remain the duke of York.

Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said the

king; Or did he make the jest against his will ?

War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?

Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give : HI do tliee service for so good a gift.1

War. 'Twns I that gave the kingdom to thj brother.

K. Edw. Why, then 'tis mine, if but by War- wick's gift.

ITor. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again ; And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject.

K. Edw. But Warwick's king is Edward's pris- oner:

And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this, — What is the body, when the head is off?

Glo. Alas ! that Warwick had no more forecast But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The king was slily finger'd from the deck ! * You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace, And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.

K. I-jflw. 'Tis even so ; yet you are Warwick still

Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down.

kneel down : Nay, when ? 3 strike now, or else the iron cools.

1 That is, enroll thyself among thy dependants. Cowe'l in- forms us dint sen'itium is " thai ten-ice which the tenant by re.i-.nr of his fee owelh unlo his lord."

1 A pack of cards was anciently termed a dtck of cards, or p pair of e;irils. An instance of a pack of cards being failed a deck occurs in the Sessions Paper for January, 1788. Tne term is said to !•<• still used in Ireland.

1 Tins i-\prrssioii of impatience has been already noticed in King Richard 11., Act i sc. I, uoie 24

438 THE THIRD PART ACT V

War. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face, Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.

K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and

tide 'thy friend,

This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, Shall, whiles the head is warm, and new cut off, Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, — " Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more."

Enter OXFORD, with Drum and Colours.

War. O, cheerful colours ! see, where Oxford comes !

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster !

[OXFORD and his Force* enter the City.

Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.

K. Edw. So, other foes may set upon our backs. Stand we in good array ; for they, no doubt, Will issue out again, and bid us battle : If not, the city being but of small defence, We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.

War. O, welcome ! Oxford, for we want thy help.

Enter MONTAGUE, ivith Drum and Colours.

Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster !

[He and liis Forces enter the City. Gk. Thou and thy brother both shall 'by this

treason Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.

K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest.

Enter SOMERSET, with Drum and Colours.

Sam. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster !

[He and his Forces enter the City

S<J. 1. OF HENRY VI. 4

Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset,* Have sold their lives unto the house of York ; And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.

Enter CLARENCE, with Drum and Colours.

War. And lo! where George of Clarence sweeps along,

Of force enough to bid his brother battle ;

With whom an upright zeal to right prevails,

More than the nature of a brother's love. —

[GLOSTER and CLARENCE whisper.

Come, Clarence, come ; thou wilt, if Warwick calls. Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what thi« means ?

[ Talcing the red Rose out of his Cap.

Look here, I throw my infamy at thee :

I will not ruinate my father's house,

Who gave his blood to lime8 the stones together,

And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, War- wick,

That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,

To bend the fatal instruments of war

Against his brother, and his lawful king?

Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath :

To keep that oath were more impiety

4 Edmund Beaufort, the Somerset of the preceding play, was •lain in the first battle of St. Alhans, May 22, 1455. Henry, his oldest son, the Somerset of the present play, was taken and be beaded at Hcxain, April 25, 1464. He was succeeded in the dukedom by liis brother Edmund, who, having fled to sanctuary after tlie baiile of Tewksbnry, was seized and put to execution May (5, 1471. The Poet here refers to the two former as having already fallen, though he continues the second till the death of the third, or at least does not distinguish between them. 11.

6 Tins stage-direction is takeu from the quarto, the folio giving no intimation as to the cause of Warwick's urgency in the ne*J line. H.

* That is, to cement

440 THE THIRD PART ACT »

Than Jephtba's, when he sacrific'd his daughter. I am so sorry for my trespass made, That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe ; With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee, (As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,) To plague thee for thy foul misleading me. And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. — Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends ; And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more

belov'd, Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence ! this is brother

like.

War. O, passing traitor, perjur'd, and unjust ! K. Edw. What ! Warwick, wilt thou leave the

town, and fight? Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?

War. Alas ! I am not coop'd here for defence : I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.

K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads

the way. — Lords, to the field ! St. George, and victory !

[March. Exeunt.

SCENE II. A Field of Battle near Barnet.

Alarums and Excursions. Enter King EDWARD, bringing in WARWICK wounded.

K. Edw. So, lie thou there : die thou, and die our fear :

BC. «l. OF HKNHY VI. 441

For Warwick was a bug that fenr'd us all.' —

Now, Montague, sit fast: I seek for thee,

That Warwick's bones may kec-p thine company.

[Erit.

War. All ! who is nigh 1 come to me, friend, or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick? Why ask I that ? my mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows That I must yield my body to the earth, And by my fall the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept ; * Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black

veil,

Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world: The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres ; For who Uv'd king, but I could dig his grave 1 And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow f Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood ' My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me ; and, of all my lands, Is nothing left me, but my body's length ! Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust ? And, live we how we can, yet die we must.3

1 Warwick was the bugbear that frightened us all. Thus in The Taming of the Shrew, Act i. sc. 2 : " Tush ! tush ! fear boys with kufrt." See, also. Act iii. sc. 3, note 11, of the present play.

* " All the fowls of heaven made their nests in his boughs, ami under his branches did all the beasts of the field bring forth their founf." — Ezekiel, xxxi. 6.

* The great carl of Warwick fell in the battle of llarbet, April

442 THE THIRD PART 4CT V,

Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET. jSom. Ah. Warwick, Warwick ! wert thou as we

are,

We might recover all our loss again. The queen from France hath brought a puissant

power ;

Even now we heard the news: Ah, could'st thou fly! War. Why, then I would not fly. — Ah, Monta

gue !

If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while. Thou lov'st me not ; for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood, That glues my lips, and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

14, 1471. The Poet, for obvious reasons, represents him as fall- ing by the hand of Edward : the Chronicles relate that " the earic of Warwike, when his souldiers were all wearied with long fight, and sore weakened with woundes and hurts, rushed into the middest of his enimies, whereas he, adventuring so farre from his companif to slea his adversaries, that he could not be rescued, was amongsi the preasse of his enimies striken downe and slaine." — We fub- joui this speech as it stands in the quarto :

" Ah ! who is nigh ? Come to me, friend, or foe, And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick 7 Why ask 1 that ? my mangled body shows That I must yield my body to the earth, And by my fall the conquest to my foes. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the rampant lion slept, Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood, Were liken'd ofi to kingly sepulchres ; For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave ? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow T Lo, now my glory, smear'd in dust and blood! My parks, and walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me ; and of all my lands I* nothing left me but my body's length.'* •

SG 111. OF HKNRY VI. 443

Sam. Ah, Warwick ! Montague hath breath'd his

last ;

And, to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick, And said, — "Commend me to my valiant brother." And more he would have said; and more he spoke. Which sounded like a cannon in a vault,4 That might not be distinguish 'd ; but, at last, I well might hear deliver'd with a groan, — " O, farewell, Warwick ! "

War. Sweet rest lu's soul ! —

Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; for Warwick bids You all farewell, to meet in heaven.* [Dies.

Ozf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great power !

[Exeunt, bearing off WARWICK'S Body.

SCENE III. Another Part of the Field.

Flourish. EntT King EDWARD in triumph; with CLARKNCE, GLOSTKR, and the Rest.

K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward

course,

And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, 1 spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud, That will encounter with our glorious sun,

4 The quarto has this line : " Which sounded like n cliimntr in a vault." Singer thinks that cannon is an error of the press in the first folio. " The indistinct gahhle of undertakers," says Sirrvens, •• while they adjust a coffin in a family vault, will abun- dantly ill<iMr;ite ihe preceding simile. Such a peculiar hubbub of inarticulate sounds might have attracted our author's notice ; it has too ot\en forced itself on mine."

* We here give the genuine text. Modern editions have tl-.rusi in to h«>fnrf hit soul., ami .i^-uir utter nert. H

444 THE THIRD PART ACT V.

Ere he attain his easeful western bed : I mean, my lords, those powers, that the queen Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast, And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud, And blow it to the source from whence it came : Thy very beams will dry those vapours up; For every cloud engenders not a storm.

Glo. The queen is valued thirty thousand strong And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her : If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd, Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends, That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury. We, having now the best at Barnet field, Will thither straight, for willingness rids way ; And, as we march, our strength will be augmented In every county as we go along. — Strike up the drum! cry — Courage ! and away.

[Exeunt

SCENE IV. Plains near Tewksbury.

March. Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers.

Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail

their loss,

l>ut cheerly seek how to redress their harms. What though the mast be now blown overboard The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood! Yet lives our pilot still : Is't meet that he Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, With tearful eves add water to the sea,

sc. rv. OF HENRY vi. 445

Ami «rivi- more strength to that which liath t«><i much;1 Whiles in his moan the ship splits on the rock, Which industry and courage might have s;ivM? All, what a shame ! all, what a fault were this ! Say, Warwick was our anchor; what of that? And Montague our top-mast ; what of him ? Our slaughter'd friend.s the tackles; what of these? Why, is not Oxford here another anchor, And Somerset another goodly mast? The friends of France our shrowds and tacklmgs? And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? We will not from the helm, to sit and weep, But keep our course, though the rough wind say no, From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck As good to chide the waves, as speak them fair. And what is Edward but a ruthless sea? What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit? And Richard but a ragged fatal rock ? All these the enemies to our poor bark. Say, you can swim; alas! 'tis but a while: Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink: Hcstride the rock ; the tide will wash you off, Or else you famish ; that's a threefold death. This speak I, lords, to let you understand, In case some one of you would fly from us. That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers, More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rock* Why, courage, then ! what cannot be avoided, 'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear.

1 Thus Jaques moralizing upon tne weeping flag in As You Vike It, Act ii. se. 1 :

" Thou mak'st a testament As worldlings flo, giving the turn of mart To that which had too much."

446 THE THIRD PART \CT V.

Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit Should, if a coward heard her speak these words. Infuse his breast with magnanimity, And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. I speak not this, as doubting any here; For, did I but suspect a fearful man, He should have leave to go away betimes, Lest, in our need, he might infect another, And make him of like spirit to himself. If any such be here, as God forbid ! Let him depart, before we need his help.

Oxf. Women and children of so high a courage, And warriors faint ! why, 'twere perpetual shame. — O, brave young prince ! thy famous grandfather Doth live again in thee : Long may'st thou li ve, To bear his image, and renew his glories !

Som. And he, that will not fight for such a

hope,

Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.*

• Thus far this scene is nearly half original in the folio. This enlargement, though no greater nor better than we find in some parts of the finished Hamlet, and Romeo and Juliet, as compared with the first editions, has Seen referred to by Malone as decisive that Shakespeare did not write the qua., to. Thus, for example, in Hamlet's soliloquy, Act ii. sc. 2, beginning, — " O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I ! " — we have in the earliest known edi- tion but thirty-two lines, which were afterwards expanded into fifty-eight. However, we give the preceding part of the seen* as it is in the quarto :

" Queen. Welcome to England, my loving friends of Prance ! And welcome Somerset and Oxford too. Once more have we spread our sails abroad, And though our tackling be almost consum'd, And Warwick as our mainmast overthrown, Yet, warlike lords, raise you that sturdy post That bears the sails to bring us unto rest ; And Ned and I, as willing pilots should, For once with careful minds guide on the stem.

SC IV. OF HENRY VI. 447

Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset : -r— sweet Ox- ford, thanks.

Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight : therefore be resolute.

Oif. I thought no less : it is his policy, To haste thus fast to find us unprovided.

iSStwn. But he's deceiv'd : we are in readiness. Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your for- wardness.

Orf. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.

March. Enter, at a distance. King EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

To hear us through that dangerous giilf That heretofore hath swallow'd np our friends.

Prince. And if there he (as God forhid there should) Amongst us a timorous or fearful man Let him depart before the hattles join. Lest he in time of need entice another, And so withdraw the soldiers' heart* from us. I will not stand aloof, and hid you fight. Rut with my sword press in the thickest throngs, And single Edward from his strongest guard, And hand to hand enforce him for to yield, Or leave my body as a witness of mv thoughts.

Or/. Women and children of so high resolve, And warriors faint ! why. 'twere perpetual shame. O, brave young prince ! thy noble grandfather Doth live again in thee : long may'st thou livn To bear his image, and to renew bis glories.

Som. And he that turns and flies when such do figbt. Lei him to bed. and, like the owl by day, Be hiss'd and wonder'H at. if he arite."

448 THE THIRD PART ACT V

Which, by the heavens' assistance, and your strength, Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. [ need not add more fuel to your fire, For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out : Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.

Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I

should say,

My tears gainsay ; 3 for every word I speak, Ye see, I drink the water of my eye. Therefore, no more but this : Henry, your sovereign, Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd, His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ; And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil. You fight in justice : then, in God's name, lords, Re valiant, and give signal to the fight.

[Exeunt both Armies

SCENE V. Another Part of the same.

Alarums : Excursions : and afterwards a Retreat Then enter King EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces ; unth Queen MARGARET, OXFORD and SOMERSET, Prisoners. K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils.

Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle ' straight :

For Somerset,2 off with his guilty head.

Go, bear them hence : I will not hear them speak.

* Unsay, deny.

1 A castle in Picardy, where Oxford was confined for many years.

» The battle of Tewkshury was fought May 4, 147J. Twc days after, the dnke of Somerset, with other fugitives, was rlraggeo from sanctuary, and beheaded. The queen and prinre had been iu France for some time, seeking aid, and landed in England tb*

fC. V. OF HKNKY VI. 4 I!J

Ox/. Fr r my part, I'll not trouble thee with

words.

Som. Nor I ; luit stoop with patience to my fortune [Exeunt OXFORD and SOMERSET, guarded* (J. J/rtr. So part we sadly in this troublous world, To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.

K. Edw. Ts proclamation made, that who finds

Edward Shall have a high reward, and he his life?

Glo. It is ; and, lo ! where youthful Edward come*.

Enter Soldiers, with Prince EDWARD.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant ; let us hear him

speak.

What ! can so young a thorn begin to prick ? Kdsvard, what satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, And ;ill the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?

Prince- Speak like a subject, proud ambitious

York!

Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth : Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou, Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee, \V!m h, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd !

(Ha. That you might still have worn the petticoat, And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.

very day of the battle of Barnet. We are told that when sbt i;. 'i i.ews of that disaster, •• all her hopes were instantly broken I she •innk to the ground in despair ; and. as soon as she came to herself, hastened with her son to the sanctuary of Beaulieu. Rut the Lancastrian lords who siill remained faithful to her cause, in- duced her to quit her asylum, and raised a considerable body of troops to fight under her banner." While iliese were on thj march lo join ;inotlnT army in Wales, they were riteicepled bj Kdwarr1 at Tewksbury, and there finished. B.

450 THE THIRD PART ACT V

Prince. Let ./Esop3 fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place.

Glo. By Heaven, brat, I'll plague you for thai

word. Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to

men. Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive

scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back

rather. K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy ! or I will charm your

tongue.

Clar. Until tor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty ; you are all undutifiil ; Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all, I am your better, traitors as ye are ; — And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here.4 [Stabs him

Glo. Sprawl'st thou ? take that, to end thy agony

[Stabbing him

Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury.6

[Stabbing him.

* He calls Richard ^Esop on account of his crookedness ; at d Richard here betrays the same morbid sensitiveness touching h g person, which afterwards makes him " descant on his own deform ity." This passage, being the same in the quarto, may be aptly cited as inferring an identity of authorship running through the whole delineation of Richard. II.

4 That is, " thou who art the likeness," &c.

6 Prince Edward was born October 13, 1463 ; so that he was in his eighteenth year when killed. The Chronicles give the fol- lowing account of his death : " After the field was ended, procla malion was made, that whosoever could bring foorth prince Ed- ward, alive or dead, should have an annuitie of a hundred pounds during his life, and the princes life to be saved, if he were brought foorth alive. Sir Richard Crofts, nothing mistrusting the kings

*<;. v. OK HENRY vi. 45)

Q. Mar. O, kill me too !

Gin. Marry, and shall. [Offers to kill her.

K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold ! for we have done too much.

Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world witn words ?

K. Edw. What! doth she swoon ? use means for her recovery.

Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother- I'll hence to London on a serious matter: Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.

Clar. What? what 1

Glo. The Tower ! the Tower ! [Exit.

Q. Mar. O, Ned ! sweet Ned ! speak to thy moth-

er, boy :

Canst thou not speak ? — O traitors ! murderers ! - They that stabb'd Csesar shed no blood at all, Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, If this foul deed were by, to equal it : He was a man ; this, in respect, a child ; Ami men ne'er spend their fury on a child. What's worse than murderer, that I may name it 7 No, no ; my heart will burst, an if I speak ; — And I will speak, so that my heart may burst. —

promise, brought foorth his prisoner prince Edward, being a fairc and well proportioned yoong gentleman ; whom when king Ed- ward had well advised, he demanded of him how he dursi so pre- imnptnoiis'.ie enter ii*o his renlme with banner displayed. VVhere- umo the prince holdlie answered, saieng, — ' To recover my father* kingdome and heritage, from his father and grandfather to him. and from tim after him to me liueallie descended.' At whirl: words king Edward said nothing, bn with his hand thrust him from him, or, as some saie, stroke hiir. with his gauntlet ; whome iiiconiiiieiitlie, George duke of Clarence, Richard duke of Gloces* tor, Tin. ii. .is Greie marqucsse Dorcet, and William lord Hastings, mat stood by, suddenlie murihered ; for the which crurll act, the more part of the <!o<>rrs in their latter ilaies ilranke of the like cup by the righteous justice and due punishment of God.'' u

THE THIRD PART ACT V

Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals !

Ho\v sweet a plant have you untimely croj>p'd !

You have no children, butchers ! if you had,

The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse :

But, if you ever chance to have a child,

Look in his youth to have him so cut off,

As, deathsmen, you have rid ' this sweet young prince !

K. Edw. Away with her ! go, bear her hence per force.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch mo

here ;

Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death : What! wilt thou not? — then, Clarence, do it thou.

Clear. By Heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.

Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do ; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself: 'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity. What ! wilt thou not ? where is that devil's butcher, Hard-favour'd Richard ? Richard, where art thou 1 Thou art not here : murder is thy alms-deed , Petitioners for blood thou ne'er putt'st back.8

• This is but slightly altered from the quarto :

" Yor have no children, devils ; if you had, The thought of them would have stopp'd your rage.''

The same thought occurs again in Macbeth, Act iv. sc. 3, whe^ Macduff first learns of the murder of " all his pretty ones." H.

7 To rid is to cut off, to destroy. See King Richard II., Act" •c. 4, note 2.

8 This speech presents no material alteration from the quarto and is there so all of a piece with Margaret's speeches in King Richard III., that diversity of authorship is scarce conceivable. Besides, if there were any other writer of that time, who could wield such terrible words as, "murder is thy alms-deed," — 'tit pity his iii'.iiu: has been lost. H

SC. VI. OF HENRY VI. 453

K. Edw Away, I say ! I charge ye, bear her hence.

Q. Mar, So come to you, and yours, as to this prince! [Exit, ted out forcibly.

K. Edw. Where's Richard gone?

Clear. To London, all in post ; and, as I gue?s, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence : discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen, how well she fares : By tliis, 1 hope she hath a son for me. [Exeunt

SCENE VI. London. A Room in the Tower.

King HENRY is discovered sitting with a Book in hi* Hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOSTER.

Glo. Good day, my lord. What ! at your book so hard 1 '

1 This scene, whether considered in itself or in reference to tb« following play, affords a most decisive test of the position held by Malone. Probably all will acknowledge it to be the most Shake •pearian in style of any thing in the whole play ; while, in char- acterization, its identity with what nobody doubts to he Shake- ipearc's is too manifest to be shirked or dodged. In short, if, in this play, there be any one thing more than another, which nulm I > but Shakespeare could have written, this undoubtedly is that thing lly comparing the scene as printed in the quarto, it will be seer 'hat no material change or addition was made in the folio.

"(riot. Good day, my lord. What ! at your book so hard •

Hen. Ay. my good lord : lord, I should say rather i *Tis -.HI to flatter ; good was little better: (iood (Hosier, and good devil, were all alike. What scene of death hath Roscius now to act T

(riot. Suspicion always haunts a guilty mind.

Hen. The bird once lim'd doth fear the fatal bush j And I. the hapless male to one poor bird. Have now the fatal object in nr.ine eye, Whore my poor young was lim'd, was caught and kill'il

454 THE THIRD PART ACT T

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord : my lord, I should

say rather :

'Tis sin to flatter ; good was little better ; Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous ; therefore, not good lord.

Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves ; \ve must con- fer. [Exit Lieutenant.

K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the

wolf :

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. — What scene of death hath Roscius now to act ?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind: The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush ; And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye, Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

Glos. Why, what a fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a bird ! And yet, for all that, the poor fowl was drown'd

Hen. I, Dfedalus ; my poor son, Icarus ; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course ; Thy brother Edward, the sun that sear'd his wings ; And thou, the envious gulf that swallow'd him. O i better can my breast abide thy dagger's point, Than can mine ears that tragic history.

Glos. Why, dost thou think I am an executioner T

Hen. A persecutor, I am sure thou art ; And, if murdering innocents be executions, Then I know thou art an executioner.

Glos. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.

Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first thou didst presume, Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a sou of mine. And thus 1 prophesy of thee : That many a widow, for her husband's death. And many an infant's water-standing eye. Widows for their husbands, children for their fathers, Shall curse the tjme that ever tliou \\ert born.

SC. VI. OF HENRY VI. 4/»fi

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a fowl ! And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.

K. Hen. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course ; The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy Thy brother Edward ; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words ! My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragic history. But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?

Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner?

K. Hin. A persecutor, I am sure thou art : If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.

K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first thou

didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. And thus I prophesy, — that many a thousand, Whic.h now mistrust no parcel of my fear ;

The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign ;

The night-crow cried, a boding luckless tune;

Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees;

The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,

And chattering pies in dismal discord sung.

Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain.

And yet brought forth less than a mother'* hope ;

To wit, — an undigest created lump,

Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.

Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast be

1 o signify thou cam's! to bite the world i

Ami, if the rest be true that I have heard,

Thou cam'st into the world —

(i/us. Die, prophet, in thy speech ; I'll hear n For this, amongst the rest, was I ordained.

//• -i Ay, and for much more slaughter after ' O ' God forgive my «ins, and pardoi. tbee.

456 THE THIRD PART ACT V

And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, And many an orphan's water-standing eye, — Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate, And orphans for their parents' timeless death, — Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign ; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time ; Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees : The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top, And chattering pies in dismal discords sung. Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope; To wit, — an indigested and deformed lump, Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born. To signify thou cam'st to bite the world : And, if the rest be true which I have heard, Thou cam'st —

Glo. I'll hear no more: — Die, prophet, in thy speech : [Stabs him

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.

(jflot. What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink into the ground ? I had thought it would have mounted See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! Now may such purple tears always be shed, For such as seek the downfall of our house. If any spark of life remain in thee, [Stabt him a

Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither; I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. Indeed, 'twas true that Henry told me of; For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward : And had I not reason, think you, to make haste. And seek their ruins that usurp'd our rights? The women weeping, and the midwife crying, ' O, Jesus bless us ! he is born with teeth ! ' And so I was, indeed ; which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Tben, since Heaven hath made my body so,

»C. VL OF HKNHY I. 45?

K. If m. Ay, and for much more slaughter after

tliis. O ! God forgive my sins, and pardon thee ! [Dies,

Glo. What ! will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground ? I thought it would have mounted. See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death ! O, may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfall of our house! — If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither ;

[Stabs him again.

f, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. — Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of; For I have often heard my mother say I came into the world with my legs forward : Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? The midwife wonder'd ; and the women cried, " O, .lesus bless us ! he is born with teeth ! ** And so I was ; which plainly signified That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.

Let hell make crookt my mind to answer it.

I have no father, 1 am like no father ;

I IIHVC no brothers, I am like no brothers;

And this word love, which greybeards term divine,

i'i- M-inleiit in men like one another,

Ami not in me: I am myself alone.

I 'larcnre, beware : tliou keep's! me from the light ;

Hut I will sort a pitchy day for thee:

(•'<>r I will buzz abroad such prophecies,

IJiuler pretence of outward seeming ill,

AN Kilwanl shall be fearful of his life;

Ami then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.

King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone;

And, Clarence, thou an next must follow them;

So by one and one despatching all the rest,

i 'oiiiiiing myself but bad. till I be best

I'll drag thy body in another room.

And triumph. Henry, in thy day of doom."

458 THE THIRD PAUT ACT T

Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,

Let hell make crookt my mind lo answer it.

I have no brother, I am like no brother ;

And tlu's word love, which greybeards call divine,

Be resident in men like one another,

And not in me : I am myself alone. —

Clarence, beware : thou keep'st me from the light ;

But I will sort a pitchy day for thee :

For 1 will buzz abroad such prophecies,

That Edward shall be fearful of his life

And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.

King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone :

Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest ;

Counting myself but bad, till I be best. —

I'll throw thy body in another room,

And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.* [Exit

SCENE VII. The same. A Room in the Palace.

King EDWARD is discovered sitting on his Tlirone; Queen ELIZABETH with tlie infant Prince, CLAR- ENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and Others, near him.

K. Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal

throne, Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies.

* The following is Holinshed's account of Henry's death r " Here is to be remembered, that poore king Henrie the sixt, a little before deprived of his realme and imperiall erowue, was now in the Tower spoiled of his life by Richard duke of Gloces- ter, as the constant fame ran ; who, to the intent that his brother king Edward might reigne in more suretie, nnirthered the s;ild king Henrie with a dagger Howbeit, some writer-; of that time, favouring altogither the house of Yorke, have recorded, thai after he understood what losses had chanced unto his treends, and how not ouclie his sonne, but also all other his cheefe partakers were dead and despatched, he tooke it so to hart, that of pure displeas- uie, indignation, and melancholic, he died the three and iwentitb of Male." H.

SC. VII. OF HENR* VI. 45tf

What valiant foeinen, like to autumn's corn, Have we inow'd down, in tops of all t.ieir pride? Thn-e dukes of Somerset, threefold renown 'd For hardy and undoubted champions ; Two Cliffords, as the father and the son ; And two Northumberlands ; two braver men Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound : With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Mon- tague,

That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion, And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat, And made our footstool of security. — Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy. — Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles and myself Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night; Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat, That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace ; And of our labours thou .-halt reap the gain.

Glo. [Aside.] I'll blast his harvest, if your head

were laid ;

For yet I am not look'd on in the world. This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave ; And heave it shall some weight, or break my back : — Work thou the way, — and thou shalt execute.1

K. Edw. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely

queen ; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.

Clar. The duty, that I owe unto your majesty, I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.

K. Edw. Thanks, noble Clarence ; worthy broth- er, thanks

1 Glofter may he supposed to touch his head and look signifi- cantly at bis hand.

* The old quarto play appropriates this line to the queen. The

4GO THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI. ACT V

Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence thou

gprang'ft,

Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit. — [Aside.] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master, And cried, all hail ! whenas he meant, all harm.

K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves.

Clar. What will your grace have done with Mar

garet 1

Reignier, her father, to the king of France Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, And hither have they sent it for her ransom.

K. Edio. Away with her, and waft her hence to

France.

And now what rests, but that we spend the time With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows, Such as befit the pleasure of the court 1 — Sound, drums and trumpets ! — farewell, sour an

noy

For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [Exeunt.

first and second folio, by mistake, have given it to Clarence. In Steevens's copy of the second folio, which had belonged to King Charles the First, his majesty had erased Cla. and written King in its stead. Shakespeare, therefore, in the catalogue of his re- storers, may boast a royal name.

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