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Full text of "The pictorial edition of the works of Shakspere. Edited by Charles Knight"

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CONTENTS. 



PAOB 

KING HENRY VI. PART I , 

KING HENRY VI. PART II 65 

THE FIRST PART OF THE CONTENTION OF THE TWO FAMOUS HOUSES 

OF YORK AND LANCASTER 129 

KING HENRY VI. PART III 149 

THE SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF THE TWO FAMOUS 

HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER 213 

KING RICHARD III 233 

KING HENRY VIII 317 

AN ESSAY ON THE THREE PAETS OF KINO HENRY IV.. AND KING 

RICHARD III , „ , t 39y 



PR 
V, s 



ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. II. 



HISTORIES. 



T I T L E-P AGE TO VOLUME. 
Heralds making Proclamation. 

THE FIRST PART OF HENRY VI. 



PAGE 



Title-page. From a design by W. Harvey I 

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 

Portrait of Henry VI. From picture in King's Col- 
lege, Cambridge 3 

John, Duke of Bedford.— From the Bedford Missal. 5 

Charles VII. in his Presence Chamber.— From Mon- 

strelet 6 

Figures from the Monument of Charles VII. and La 
Pucelle at Orleans 7 



DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Border : —Formed of Armorial Bearings of the 
period, &c 



8 



ACT I. 

Westminster Abbey.— Scene I. Harvey and Prior 9 

Tower Hill. Harvey and Prior 18 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT I. 

Tomb of Henry V. in Westminster Abbey 19 

Joan of Arc— From painting in Town Hall of Rouen 21 

Charles VII. of France. — From Montfaucon 22 



ACT II. 



24 
31 



Orleans. G. F.Sargent 

The Temple Garden. Harvey and Prior 

ILLUSTRATIONS OP ACT II. 
John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury.— From a painting 

in Heralds' College 32 

Bastard of Orleans. — From Moutfaucon 33 



PAGE 
ACT III. 
The Parliament House.— Scene I. Harvey and 

Prior 34 

Rouen 41 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT III. 

Parliament of Henry VI.— Harl. MSS., No. 2278.... 42 
Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy, in the costume 

of the Golden Fleece. — From Montfaucon 43 

Duke of Bedford 43 

ACT IV. 

Viewof Bourdeaux — present state. G.F.Sargent 44 
Camp near Bourdeaux. — Scene V. G. F. Sargent... 51 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT IV. 

Henry VI. and Court; John Talbot receiving a 

Sword.— From Strutt's " Dresses and Habits." 52 
Effigy upon the tomb of John Talbot 53 



ACT V. 
Room in the King's Palace.— Scene V. Harvey 

and Prior 

Angiers. G. F. Sargent 



54 
61 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT V. 

Old Monument of Joan of Arc, Rouen.— From 

Millin's ' Antiquites Nationals' 62 

Regnier Duke of Anjou— From Montfaucon 63 

Triumphal Entry of Charles VII. into Rouen - 
From Montfaucon 



64 



ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. II.— HISTORIES. 



THE SECOND PART OF HENRY VI. 



PAGE 
... 65 



Title-page :— From a design by W. Harvey , 
INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 

Richard Plantagenet Duke of York.— From paint- 
ing on glass, in Trinity Hall, Cambridge 67 

Henry VI.— From Coventry Tapestry 68 

Costume of the Commonalty of the Period.— From 

Harl. MSS 69 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 

Border :— The Arms at bottom are those of Queen 
Margaret, from Willement's " Regal Heraldry ;" 
at the top those of Cardinal Beaufort, from 
his tomb in Winchester Cathedral ; on the sides 
those of Buckingham and Clifford, from illumi- 
nations in additional MS., Brit. Mus. No. 5525. 
The Views are : — at top, Gate of Bury St. Ed- 
mund's and St. Alban's Abbey ; at bottom, 
old London Bridge and Westminster Hall 70 

ACT I. 

RoomofState.— Scene I. Harvey and Prior 71 

Gloster's Garden. Incantation Scene. Harvey... 80 

Illustration of act i. 
Marriage of Henry VI. — From Walpole's "Anecdotes 

of Painting" 81 

ACT II. 

St. Alban's — Hawking party. Habvey and Prior 83 
Street in London ; Cheapside. Harvey and Prior 90 

ILLUSTRATIONS OP ACT II. 

Southampton Bar-Gate 91 

Queen Margaret. — From Coventry Tapestry 92 



ACT III. 



Parliament in the Abbey at Bury. Harvey and 

Prior 93 

Bury St. Edmund's. G.F.Sargent 103 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT III. 

Humphrey Duke of Gloster. — From Coventry 
Tapestry 104 

Cardinal Beaufort. — From his Monument at Win- 
chester 105 

ACT IV. 

Sea-shore near Dover. — Scene I. G. F. Sargent... 106 
Blackheath.— Scene III. G.F.Sargent -. 11(5 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT IV. 

London Stone 117 

Ancient View of a Street in Southwark 120 

ACT V. 

Between Dartford and Blackheath. — Scene I. G. F. 

Sargent 121 

Field near St. Alban's. — Scene II. Harvey and 

Prior 126 

ILLUSTRATION OF ACT V. 

Richard Nevil Earl of Warwick.— From the Warwick 
Roll in the Collegeof Arms, London 127 



THE THIRD PART 



Title-page : — Death of Prince Edward, and Portrait 
of Edward IV. By W. Harvey 149 

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 

Arms of Henry VI. and Queen Margaret. From 

Lydgate's MS. presented to Henry VI 151 

General Costume, end of Reign of Henry VI 152 

Edward IV. and his Court 153 

Lord Rivers and Caxton presenting a book to 

Edward IV 153 

Battle of Barnet. — From an illumination in a MS. 

at Ghent 154 

Execution of the Duke of Somerset. — From the 

same 155 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
Border of Armorial Bearings 156 

ACT I. 

The Parliament House. — Scene I. Harvey and 

Prior 157 

Sandal Castle. — Scene III. Harvey and Prior... 165 

ILLUSTRATION OF ACT I. 

Edward Prince of Wales, son of Henry VI. — From 
a Seal in Sandford's "General History" 166 

ACT II. 

Before York.— Scene II. G.F.Sargent 168 

Field of Battle near Towton.— Scene III. G. F. 

Sargent 177 

vi 



OF HENRY VI. 

ACT III. 
Chace in the North.— Scene I. G. F. Sargent.... 179 
Palace of King of France.— Scene III. " Welcome, 
brave Warwick." Harvey and Prior 187 

ILLUSTRATION OF ACT III. 
Lewis XI. of France.— From Montfaucon 188 

ACT IV. 

Camp near Warwick.— Scene III. "This is his tent." 

Harvey and Prior I 90 

Park at Middleham Castle— Scene V. G. F. Sar- 
gent '98 

ILLUSTRATION OF ACT IV. 

George Duke of Clarence.— From Warwick Roll, in 
Library of College of Arms 199 

ACT V. 

Coventry. — Scene I. Harvey and Prior 201 

Field of Battle near Barnet.— Scene II. G. F. Sar- 
gent 208 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT V. 

Tewkesbury.— Scene IV. G.F.Sargent 209 

Battle of Tewkesbury. — From an illumination in a 

MS. at Ghent 210 

Monument to Henry VI., formerly at Windsor 21 1 



ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. II— HISTORIES. 



KING RICHARD III. 



PAGE 

Title-page : — Death of the young Princes in the 
Tower, and portrait of Richard III. Harvey 233 

INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 

Crosby House. Shepheed 235 

Portrait of Richard III. — From an illumination in 

Warwick Roll, Heralds' College 237 

John Howard, first Duke of Norfolk. — From a paint- 
ing on glass in Long Melford Church, engraved 
in Howard's "Memorials of the Howard Fa- 
mily" 238 

Thomas Howard, Earl of Surrey. — From Howard's 

" Memorials of the Howard Family" 23S 

Sir Thomas Vaughan. — From an Effigy on brass 

plate in Westminster Abbey 239 

Badge of Richard III. — From an original drawing 

by the late Charles Stothard 239 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
Border of Armorial Bearings 240 

ACT I. 

Street in London. " Lo ! here I lend thee this 
sharp- pointed sword." — Scene II. Harvey 
and Prior. 241 

Room in the Tower. — Scene IV. Harvey and 

Prior 255 

illustrations of act i. 

View of Chertsey from the Meadows. — From an 

original drawing 256 

Portrait of Richard III. — From a picture in the pos- 
session of the Royal Society of Antiquaries 257 

Anne, Queen of Richard III. — From the Warwick 

Roll 259 

ACT II. 

Room in the Palace. " King Edward led in sick." — 
Scene I. Harvey and Prior 260 

Street in London. "Neighbours, God speed." 
Harvey and Prior 266 



page 
ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT II. 

Ludlow Castle. Sargent 267 

Tomb of Edward IV. at Windsor. — From an old 
print 268 

Sanctuary at Westminster. — From a sketch made 
by Dr. Stukeley before its destruction in 1775 269 

ACT III. 

Pomfret Castle. — Scene III. Sargent 270 

Baynard's Castle. "The mayor is here at hand." 
Scene VII. Harvey and Prior 282 

ILLUSTRATION OF ACT III. 

Edward Prince of Wales (son of Edward IV.)— 
From his Seal engraved in Archseologia, vol. xx. 283 

ACT IV. 

Before the Tower. — Scene I. Harvey and Prior 289 
Before the Palace. "Ah! my poor princes." — 
Scene IV. Harvey and Prior 301 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT IV. 

The Bloody Tower, London. Shepherd 302 

Elizabeth Woodville, Queen of Edward IV. — From 

a picture formerly in the Kerrich collection.... 303 
Thomas Lord Stanley (Earl of Derby). — From a 

painting by Holbein 304 

ACT V. 

View of Salisbury. — Scene I. Sargent 305 

Bosworth Field. — Scene IV. Sargent 312 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT V. 

View of Leicester. Sargent 313 

Blue Boar Inn, Leicester. — From a sketch by A. 

Poynter 314 

Tamworth Castle. Sargent 314 

Plan of Battle of Bosworth, from Nichols' "History 

of Leicestershire" 315 

Portrait of Duke of Norfolk. — From a picture by 

Holbein, in the Queen's private collection 316 

Handle of Cross-bow found at Bosworth. — From 

Nichols' "Bib. Top. Brit." 316 



KING HENRY VIII. 



Title : — Vision of Katharine, with Portraits. W. 
Harvey 317 

ntroductory notice. 

Great Seal, Cardinal's Hat, &c 319 

Henry VIII. at the Field of the Cloth of Gold — 

From an old painting at Windsor Castle 324 

Dr. Butts sent to Wolsey. — From a drawing in Mr. 

Douce's copy of Cavendish's " Life of Wolsey " 325 
Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk. — From Holbein 325 
Chancellor in his Robes. — From the old painting 
of Henry VIII. granting a charter to the Barber- 
Surgeons 327 

Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey. — From a picture 
by Titian 327 

DRAMATIS PERSONS. 
Border of Armorial Bearings 328 



PROLOGUE. 
Wolsey and his Suite. — From a drawing in Mr. 
Douce's copy of Cavendish's " Life of Wolsey." 329 

ACT I. 

Presence Chamber in York Place, the Masquo. 

Harvey and Prior 330 

The Tower, from the Thames. G. F. Sargent... 340 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT I. 

Meeting of Henry VIII. and Francis. — From the 
bas-relief at Rouen 341 

Henry VIII.— From Holbein 342 

Duke of Buckingham (Edward Bohun or Stafford). 
— From a portrait engraved in the Houbraken 
series 313 

Anne Bullen. — From Holbein, in the possession of 

M. VVocken at Bale 344 

vii 



ILLUSTRATIONS TO VOL. II.— HISTORIES. 



ACT II. 

PAGE 

Westminster Hall, water-side. Harvey & Prior 345 
Hall at Blackfriars, Trial Scene. Harvey & Prior 355 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT II. 

Cardinal Wolsey. — From Holbein 356 

Queen Katharine.— From Vanderwerff 359 

ACT III. 

Palace at Bridewell. Harvey and Prior 360 

York Place.— From Sylvester. G. F. Sargent ... 369 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT III. 

Cardinal Campeius. — From an engraving of a medal 

published by Harding 370 

Charles Brandon, Duke of Suffolk.— From Holbein 371 
Wolsey surrenderingtheGreatSeal. — From Douce's 
copy of Cavendish 372 



ACT IV. 

I AGR 

Street in Westminster. — Scene I. Harvey and 

Tifkin 373 

Christ Church, Oxford. G F.Sargent 378 

ILLUSTRATIONS 01' ACT IV. 
Sir Thomas More. — From Holbein 379 

ACT V. 

The Palace at Greenwich ; returning from the 

Christening. Harvey and Prior ..■ 381 

Group of Christening Gilts 389 

ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT V. 
Gardiner, Bishop of Winchester.— From Holbein.. 391 
Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex. — From Holbein 392 
Archbishop Cranmer 393 

SUPPLEMENTARY NOTICE. 
Leicester Abbey. G.F.Sargent 3P4 




His roiiiES. — Vol. If. 




[Henry VI. in his Youth.] 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 



' The First Part of Henry the Sixth ' was originally printed, under that title, in the folio 
collection of 1G23. Upon the authority, then, of the editors of that edition of 'Mr. William Shake- 
speare's Comedies, Histories, and Tragedies, published according to the true original Copies,' this 
drama properly finds a place in every modern edition of our poet's works. After the time of Malone 
the English critics agreed that this play was spurious ; and Drake, without hesitation, refers to what 
Shakspere's friends and editors denominated the Second and Third Parts of Henry VI. as the First 
and Second Parts ; and recommends all future editors, if they print this first play at all, to give it only 
in an Appendix. " The spuriousness of this Part, indeed," says Dr. Drake, "has been so satisfactorily 
proved by Mr. Malone, that no doubt can be supposed any longer to rest upon the subject." If we 
were in the habit, then, of taking upon trust what the earlier editors of Shakspere had authoritatively 
held, we should either reject this play altogether, or if we printed it we should inform our readers 
that " the hand of Shakspere is nowhere visible throughout." We cannot consent to follow either of 
these courses. 

Malone's ' Dissertation on the Three Parts of King Henry VI., tending to show that those plays 
were not written originally by Shakspeare,' is the most careful and elaborate of his productions, 
and that upon which his reputation as a critic was mainly built. His theory is thus stated by 
himself : — 



INTKODUCTOKY NOTICE. 

"Several passages in The Second and Third Paits of King Henry VI. appearing evidently to 
be of the hand of Shakspeare, I was long of opinion that the three historical dramas w'.ich are the 
subject of the present disquisition were properly ascribed to him ; not then doubting that the whole 
of these plays was the production of the same person. But a more minute investigation of the 
subject, into which I have been led by the revision of all our author's works, has convinced me that, 
though the premises were true, my conclusion was too hastily drawn ; for, though the hand of 
Shakspeare is unquestionably found in the two latter of these plays, it does not therefore necessarily 
follow that they were originally and entirely composed by him. . . . My hypothesis then is, 
that The First Part of King Henry VI., as it now appears (of which no quarto copy is extant), 
was the entire or nearly the entire production of some ancient dramatist ; that ' The Whole Contention 
of the two Houses of York and Lancaster,' &c, written probably before the year 1590, and printed 
m quarto, in 1600, was also the composition of some writer who preceded Shakspeare; and that 
from this piece, which is in two Parts, (the former of which is entitled 'The First Part of the 
Contention of the two famous Houses of Yorke and Laucaster, with the Death of the good Duke 
Humphrey,' &c, and the latter, ' The true Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, and the death of good 
King Henrie the Sixt,') our poet formed the two plays entitled ' The Second and Third Parts of 
King Henry VI.,' as they appear in the first folio edition of his works." 

We propose to investigate this question, as a whole, upon broader grounds than Malone has 
taken. It appears to us that he has left many important points untouched, and has dwelt somewhat 
too much upon minute distinctions. The question is not one merely of verbal criticism. It 
is connected with some of the most interesting inquiries as to the history of the English drama and 
the early life of Shakspere. It is a subject, therefore, that we cannot take up and dismiss in a 
hasty or fragmentary manner, or in a spirit of tame acquiescence in prevailing opinions on the one 
hand, or of inconsiderate controversy on the other. We purpose, then, to treat it as fully as may be 
necessary, in the form of a Supplement to this Volum3. At present it is only necessary to say that, 
as it involves an examination of the dramatic character of the three Parts of Henry VI. and 
of Richard III., it will render any separate Introductory or Supplementary Notices to these plays 
unnecessaiv. 



Costume of Henhy VI., Part I. 

The number of historical personages introduced in the plays of Henry VI., Richard III., and 
Henry VIII., of whom we have the " lively effigies " handed down to us, will render unnecessary 
a long verbal description of the costumes of their respective periods, as portraits of the principal 
individuals in their habits as they lived will appeal immediately to the eye of the reader, and require 
scarcely any explanation. Henry VI. himself, in this play, is almost the only personage for whose 
dresr wc have no contemporary authority. Ho appears for the first time in the third act of this 
Part as a young man, in his parliament robes, and in the full exercise of his kingly office, in West- 
minster liill; but, in point of fact, he was at that time a child of eight years of age at the utmost. 
In the fourth act he is crowned at Paris (he was then only in his tenth year), and in the fifth act 
lie is in his ordinary apparel in his palace in London. The only representations we remember of 
Benry in his childhood aw those drawn by John Rouse, the Warwickshire antiquary, in the reign 
of Richard III., and which are consequently no authorities for this period. As the poet, however, 
lias thought fit to make him a young man, we shall be justified in showing him on his throne as 
king, presenting a sword to John Talbot, the great Earl of Shrewsbury, and surrounded by several 
of his nobility in their parliamentary robes. (See Historical Illustration of Act iv.) In a MS. life 
4 



FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 

of St. Edmund, by Lydgate (Harleian Col, No. 2278), there is a representation of the king presiding 
in parliament, which is very nearly of this period ; and another MS. in the same collection (No 
1766), also a work of Lydgate's, was written and illuminated, by command of Humphrey Duke 
of Gloster, about the beginning of the reign of Henry VI, and will furnish the general costume of 
the people. This will be given in Part II. 

Of Duke Humphrey we know no contemporary portrait or effigy ; but of his brother, the Dub- 
of Bedford, there is a most authentic representation in the well-known aud splendid MS called 
the Bedford Missal. He is attired in a richly-embroidered robe, with the extravagantly long 
sleeves of the period ; his hair is cut short all round his head, in accordance with the fashion of the 
preceding reign. The tapestry behind him is covered with his badge, the root of a tree and his 
" word," or motto, "a vous entier." We give his portrait from this authority. Of Henry Beaufort 




[Duke of Bedfoid.J 

Cardinal-Bishop of Winchester, there remains a fine effigy on his tomb in Winchester cathedral. 
(This will be given in Part II.) He is in his cardinal's robes. The sleeves of the under tunic 
are black, edged with white ; at each side of his face, which is placid and beardless, appears a 
little lock of black hair. On his hands are gloves fringed with gold, and having an oval-shaped jewel 
(au ancient mark of dignity) on the back. On the middle and third fingers of each hand are rings, 
worn over the gloves. Of John Beaufort, Duke and Earl of Somerset, there is a splendid effigy in 
Wirnborne Minster, Dorsetshire, representing him in a richly-ornamented suit of armour of this 
period. He is without a jupon or surcoat, in complete plate, the borders elaborately engraved and 
gilt. The bascinet is surrounded by a coronet. To the tassefs, or plates below the cuirass, are 
appended by straps and buckles those additional defences for the thighs called tuillcs, which first 
appear in this reign ; and just abo^'3 them, over the hips, he wears the military belt, or girdle, to 
which are affixed on one side his sword, and on the other his dagger. 

Richard Beauchamp, Earl of Warwick, is represented in his civil attire in a window of St. Mary's 
Hall, at Coventry, engraved in Dugdale's ' Warwickshire.' He wears a richly-ornamented hood j a 
loose robe of some figured stuff, with large sleeves, lined with ermine, over a tight under-dress of 
cloth or velvet. His effigy in the Warwick Chapel exhibits another fine specimen of the armour 
of this reign. 

Of John Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, there is also a fine effigy in armour, and wearing the mantle 
of the Garter, beautifully engraved in Mr. Stothard's valuable work of Sepulchral Monuments 



INTEODUCTOEY NOTICE 



(See Illustrations of Act IV.) Thomas Montacute, Earl of Salisbury, is depicted ill armour in a 
MS. copy of Lydgate's poem, ' The Pilgrim ' (Harleian Col., No. 4826). The tassets have no 
tuilles attached to them, and the cloak with escalloped edges, worn with the armour, is a fashion 
of the time of Henry V. (See King Henry V., Act iv.) Of William de la Pole, Duke of Suffolk, 
there is an effigy in the north wall of the chancel at Wingfield Church, Suffolk. He is in armour, with 
a conical bascinet and gorget of mail. Sir John Fastolfe is depicted in armour, and wearing the 
mantle and ensigns of the order of the Garter, in the south window of the church at Pulham, Norfolk. 
(Vide Gough and Blomefield.) 

There are numerous portraits of Charles VII. of France, engraved from vsrious sources, in 
Montfaucon'u 'Monarchic Francaise.' We have selected such as are most interesting to the reader of 
Shakspere and have only to premise that the illumination whereiu Charles is represented receiving 
a book from a monk is of a later date than this play, and exhibits the costume of the reign of 
Edward IV. We give it, however, as a curious Illustration. 



" I Wl'mmmm 




[Charles VII. in his Presence Chamber.] 



The portrait of Reignier (Rend), Duke of Anjou (Historical Illustration of Act v.), is from a 
painting by himself. It exhibits him, however, as decorated with the order of St. Michael, and must 
therefore date considerably later than this Part of Henry VI., as the order was instituted by Louis XL, 
in MOO. The portrait of Philip the Good, Duke of Burgundy (Historical Illustration of Act in.), 
represents him in the robes of the order of the Golden Fleece, which he himself instituted at 
Bruges, in 1429 : but in this play both Reignier and Philip should be iu armour. The same 
remark applies to the portrait of the famous Dunois, Bastard of Orleans (Historical Illustration of 
Act ii.), from Montfaucon. Of the celebrated Joan of Arc the only authentic because the only 
uoutemporary representation known to us, is that engraved in Millin's work, from the monument 
C 



FIEST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 

erected to her memory at Orleans, by Charles VII. Charles and Joan are thereon sculptured kneel- 
ing, in complete armour. (See end of this Notice.) The painting in the Town Hall of Orleans is, as 
the costume proves, of the time of our Henry VII., and is believed by some not to have been 
originally intended to represent La Pucelle at all. It is no authority either for dress or features, 
but we give it as an Illustration (Act I.). Of Margaret of Anjou there are several portraits as 
queen, but we know of none painted previous to her marriage. 

From the authorities here given, our readers will be able, as we have before observed, to perceive 
at once the particular alterations in costume which characterise the unquiet reign of Henry VI. A 
great variety of caps, hats, and hoods, were now introduced ; feathers were rarely used, and seem 
to have gone out of fashion again with the reign of Henry V. In armour, we find the salet or 
salade, a steel cap something resembling the bascinet, but taking more -the form of the head, and 
descending lower in the neck, where it was sometimes furnished with jointed plates. The spurs at 
this time were very long-necked, had exceedingly large rowels, and were screwed into the heels of 
the steel sollerets, instead of being fastened by straps and buckles. The hair was still worn very 
short ; and beards and moustaches appear but rarely. 

In the female attire, the principal change is observable in the head-dress, — that which is generally 
called the heart-shaped or reticulated form prevailing. Turbans of a very Oriental character are 
also seen occasionally in the Illuminated MSS. of this period. 

As the Mayor of London appears in this play, we may as well remark that Stow relates that 
when Henry VI. returned from France, in 1432, the Lord Mayor of London rode to meet him at 
Eltham, being arrayed in crimson velvet, a great velvet hat, furred, a girdle of gold about his 
middle, and a baldric of gold about his neck, trailing down behind him ; — his three henchmen 
in an uniform of red, spangled with silver ; the Aldermen in gowns of scarlet with purple hoods ; 
and all the commonalty of the city in white gowns and scarlet hoods, with divers cognisances 
embroidered on their sleeves. 

The livery colours of the house of Lancaster were white and blue; those of tbe house of York, 
murrey and blue. 




[Figures from the Monument of Charles VII. and La Pucelle, at Orleans.] 




[Scenel. Westminster Abbey ] 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— Westminster Abbey. 



Dead march. Corpse of King Henry the 
Fifth discovered, lying in state; attended on 
by the Dukes of Bedford, Glostek, and 
Exeter ; the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop 
of Winchester, Heralds, 3rc. 

Bed. Hung be 1 he heavens with black, 1 yield 
day to night ! 
Comets, importing change of times and states, 
Brandish your crystal a tresses in the sky ; 
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, 
That have consented b unto Henry's death ! 

.1 Crystal. This epithet is applied to comets, in a sonnet 
by Lord Sterline, 1604 :— 

" When as those crystal comets whiles appear." 
b Consented. Malone is of opinion that consented is here 



King 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 his 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 : 

used only in the ordinary sense of that word, and that it is 
used also in the ordinary sense, in the 5th scene of this act :— 

" You s\\ consented unto Salisbury's death." 
Steevens, on the other hand, believes that the word shouldbe 
spelt concented.-Steevens appears to us to be right, xo 
concent is to be in harmony— to act together. See the pas- 
sage in Henry V., Act i. Sc. u., and the notes on that pas- 
sage: — 

" For government, though high, and low, and lower, 
Put into parts, doth keep in one concent, 
Congreeing in a full and natural close, 
Like music." 



AcT I.] 



FIEST PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene I- 



His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, 
More dazzled and drove back his enemies, 
Than mid-day sun, fierce bent against their 

faces. 
What should I say ? 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 ? 
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 oiu* glory's over-throw ? 
Or shall we think the subtle-witted French v 
Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, 
By magic verses have contriv'd his end? a 

Win. He m as a king bless'd of the King of 
kings. - 
Unto the French tbe 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. 
Glo. The church ! where is it ? Had not 
churchmen pray'd, 
His thread of life had not so soon decay'd ; 
None do you like but an effeminate prince, 
AVhom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. 
Win. Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art pro- 
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 ; 
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 your 
minds in peace! 
Let 's to the altar : — Heralds, wait on us : — 
Instead of gold, we '11 offer up our arms ; 
Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead. 
Posterity, await for wretched years, 
When at their mothers' moisten'd b eyes babes 
shall suck ; 

" A passage ;,, s co t's 'Discoverie of Witchcraft,' 1534, 
explains this :— "The Irishmen .... will not stick to affirm 
that they can rime either man or heast to death." This is 
an old northern superstition. In Gray's spirited ' Descent 
of Odin,' we find— 

" Thrice he trae'd the Runic rhyme; 
Thrice pronoune'd, in accents dread, 
The thrilling verse that wakes the dead." 
b Moisterid. So the folio of 1C23. The second folio, in 
which aome vernal alterations of the original text are found, 
and which, for the most part, arc made with judgment, reads 
moist. We adhere to the original in all those cases where the 
alterations of the second folio are somewhat douhtful. 
10 



Our isle be made a nourish a 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 Csesar, or bright b 

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, Eheims, 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 . 

Glo. Is Paris lost? is Eouen yielded up ? 
If Henry were recall' d to life again, 
These news would cause him once more yield the 
ghost. 
Exe. How were they lost ? what treachery was 

us'd? 
Mess. No treachery; but want of men and 
money. 
Amongst 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 ling'ring wars, with little cost ; 
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings ; 
A third man thinks, without expense at all, 
By guileful fair words peace 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. 

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



a Nourish. Nourice, nourish, nursh, are the same words. 
We have an example in Lydgate : — 

" Athenes whan it was in his floures 
Was called nourish of philosophers wise." 

Pope suhstituted marish. 

h Malone says, "this hlank undoubtedly arose from the 
transcriber's or compositor's not being able to make out the 
name." We greatly doubt this. In the original the line is 

terminated with four hyphens, thus ( ), a point which is 

several times used in the same play to mark an interruption. 
For example, in the 4th scene of this act, 

"Thou shalt not die whiles " 

Pope suggested (the notion looks like a joke) to fill up the 
line thus : — 

" Thar. Julius Caesar, or bright Francis Drake; " 

and Monck Mason gravely upholds the reading. Johnson 
would read, 

" Than Julius Caesar, or bright Berenice." 



Act I.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



fS'-SVE I 



Bed. Me they concern ; regent I am of France : 
Give me my steeled coat, I '11 fight for France. 
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes ! 
Wounds will I lend the French, instead of eyes, 
To weep their inter/missive miseries. 

Enter another Messenger. 

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

mischance : 

France is revolted from the English quite ; 

Except some petty towns of no import : 

The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; 

The bastard of Orleans with him is join'd; 

Reignier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part ; 

The duke of Alencon flieth to his side. 

Exe. The Dauphiu crowned king ! all fly to 
him ! 

O, whither shall we fly from this reproach ? 
Glo. We will not fly, but to our enemies' 
throats : — - 

Bedford, if thou be slack, I '11 fight it out. 
Bed. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my for- 
wardness ? 

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 nowbedewkingHenry'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? 
3 Mess. 0, no ; wherein lord Talbot was o'er- 

thrown : 
The circumstance I '11 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 breakiug 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 ; 
Here, there, and everywhere, enrag'd he flew : 
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 John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward ; 
He being in the vaward, a (plac'd behind, 
With purpose to relieve and follow them,) 
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. 
Hence grew the general wrack 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 ? then I will slay myself, 
For living idly here, in pomp and ease, 
Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, 
Unto his dastard fdemen is betray'd. 

3 Mess. 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 '11 hale the Dauphin headlong from his thronc,- 
His crown shall be the ransom of my friend ; 
Four of their lords I '11 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 Saint 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. 

Exe. 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 '11 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. ToEltham will I, where the young king is, 
Being ordain' d his special governor ; 
And for his safety there I '11 best devise. {Exit. 



a Vaward— the van. This is considered by some editors as 
a misprint for rearward. Steevens and M. Mason explain 
the passage to be correct, and the explanation, such as it is, 
we give: "When an army is attacked in the rear the van 
becomes the rear in its turn, and of course the reserve. 

11 



Act!.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II. 



Win. Each hath his place and function to at- 
tend : 
I am left out ; for me nothing remains. 
But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office ; 
The king from Elthain I intend to steal," 
And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. 

[Exit. Scene closes. 

SCENE II.— France. Before Orleans. 

Enter Charles, with his Forces ; Alencon, 

Reignier, and others. 

Char. Mars his true moving, 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 be 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, bke drowned mice. 
licit/. 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 ; 
And he may well in fretting spend his 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, 
W hen he sees me go back one foot, or fly. 

[Exeunt. 

Alarums. They are beaten back by the English, 
villi g real loss. Re-enter Charles, Alencon, 
Keigxieh, and others. 

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

fled, 
But that they left me midst my enemies. 

Reig. Salisbury is a desperate homicide ; 
lie fighteth a, one weary of his life. 
The other lords, like lions wanting food, 
Do rush upon us as their hungry pn \ . 

I Froissart, a couutryman of ours, records, 
E igland all Olivers and Rowlands bred 
I luring the time Edward the third did reign. 

* Send in the original. Mason suggested steal 
12 



More truly now may this be verified ; 

Eor none but Samsons, and Goliasses, 

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 
hair-braiu'd slaves, 
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager : 
Of old I know them ; rather with then teeth 
The walls they '11 tear down than forsake the 
siege. 

Reig. I think, by some odd gimmers a 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 '11 even let them alone. 

Alen. Be it so. 

Enter the Bastard of Orleans. 

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

Char. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. 

Bast. Methinks your looks are sad, your 
cheer b 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 ; 
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, 
Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place : 
Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern : — 
By this means shall we sound what skill she hath 

[Retires. 

Enter La Pucelle, Bastard of Orleans, jind 
others. 
Reig. Fair maid is 't thou wilt do these won- 

d'rous feats ? 
Puc. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to be- 
guile me ? 
Where is the Dauphin ? — come, come from be- 
hind; 

n Gimmers. This word is thus given in the original, but is 
ordinarily printed gimmals, a word of the same meaning. 
Bishop Hall uses gimmer in alike sense : " When I saw my 
precious watch (now through an unhappy fall grown irre- 
gular) taken asunder, and lying scattered upon the work- 
man's sliopboard ; so as nere lay a wheel, there the balance, 
here one pimmer, there another; straight my ignorance was 
ready to think, when and how will all these ever piece toge- 
ther again in their former order? " 

b Cheer— countenance. 



Act I f 



FIEST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II. 



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 awhile. 
Reiff. She takes upon her bravely at first dash. 
Puc. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's 

daughter, 
My wit uutrain'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, 
"VVill'd me to leave my base vocation, 
And free my country from calamity ; 
Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success : 
In complete glory she reveal' d herself; 
And, whereas I was black and swart before, 
With those clear rays which she infused on me, 
That beauty am I bless'd with which you may see. 
Ask me what question thou canst possible, 
And I will answer unpremeditated : 
My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st, 
And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. 
Resolve a on this : Thou shalt be fortunate 
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. 

Char. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high 

terms : 
Only this proof I '11 of thy valour make, — 
In single combat thou shalt buckle with me : 
And if thou vanquishest thy words are true ; 
Otherwise I renounce all confidence. 

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

sword, 
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ; 
The which, at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's 

churchyard, 
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 fight, and La Pucelle overcomes. 
Char. Stay, stay thy hands ; thou art an 

Amazon, 
And fightest with the sword of Deborah. 

Puc. Christ's mother helps me, else I were 

too weak. 
Char. Whoe'er helps thee, 't is thou that must 

help me : 
Impatiently I burn with thy desire : 
My heart aud hands thou hast at once subdued. 



Resohe—be firmly persuaded. 



Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, 
Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be ; 
'T is the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus. 
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. Meantime, look gracious on thy pros- 
trate thrall. 
Reiff. 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. 
Reii/. 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. 
Reiff. My Lord, where are you ? what devise 
you on ? 
Shall we give over Orleans, or no ? 

Puc. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants ! 
Fight to the last gasp ; I will be your guard. 
Char. What she says I'll confirm ; we '11 fight 

it out. 
Puc. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge. 
This night the siege assuredly I '11 raise : 
Expect Saint Martin's summer," halcyon days, 
Since I have entered into these wars. 
Glory is like a circle in the water, 
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, 
Till, by broad 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. 2 

Char. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove * 3 
Thou with an eagle art inspired then. 
Helen, the mother of great Constantine, 
Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters, 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. 
Reig. Woman, do what thou canst to save our 
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. 

[Exeunt. 



a Saint Martin's summer — fine weather in Novemb-jr- 
prosperity after misfortune. 

13 



ACT i. 3 FIRST PART OF 

SCENE III.— London. Hill before the Tower. 

Eider, at the gates, the Duke of Gloster, with 
his Serving-men, in Hue coats. 

Glo. I am come to survey the Tower this 
day: 
Since Henry's death, I fear there is convey- 
ance. 11 
Where be these warders, that they wait not 

here ? 
Open the gates ; 't is Gloster that calls. 

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

1 Serv. It is the noble duke of Gloster. 

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

not be let in. 
1 Sero. Villains, answer you so the lord pro- 
tector ? 
1 Ward. [Within] The Lord protect him ! so 
we answer him : 
We do no otherwise than we are willed. 

Glo. Who willed you ? or whose will stands 
but mine ? 
There 's none protector of the realm but I. 
Break up b the gates, I'll be your warrantize : 
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms ? 

Servants rush at the Tower gates. Enter to the 
gates, Woodville, the Lieutenant. 

Wood. [Within] What noise is this ? what 

traitors have we here ? 
Glo. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I 
hear ? 
Open the gates ; here 's Gloster that would 
enter. 
Wood. [Within.] Have patience, noble duke; 
I may not open ; 
The cardinal of Winchester forbids : 
Erom him I have express commandment, 
That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in. 
Glo. Eaint-hearted Woodville, prizest him 
'fore me ? 
Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate, 
Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could 

brook ? 
Thou art no friend to God, or to the king : 
Open the gates, or I '11 shut thee out shortly. 

] Set: Open the gates unto the lord protector ; 
Or wc 11 burst them open, if that you come not 
quickly. 



* Conveyance— theft. 

>> Break up. So in Hall's Chronicle :— " The lusty Kentish- 
men, lining on more friends, brake up the gates of the King's 
Bench and Marshalsea." 

14 



KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene III, 



Enter Winchester, attended by a train of 
Servants in tawny coats. 

Win. How now, ambitious Humphrey ? what 

means this ? 
Glo. Peel'd a priest, dost thou command me 

to be shut out ? 
Win. I do, thou most usurping proditor, 
And not protector of the 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 : 
I'll canvass 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. b 

Glo. I will not slay thee, but I '11 drive thee 
back : 
Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing cloth 
I '11 use, to carry thee out of this place. 

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

thy face. 
Glo. What ! am I dar'd, and bearded to my 
face ? — 
Draw, men, for all this privileged place ; 
Blue-coats to tawny-coats. 4 Priest, beware your 
beard ; 
[Gloster and his men attack the Bishop. 
I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly ; 
Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat ; 
In spite of pope, or dignities of church, 
Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and 
down. 
Win. Gloster, thou 'It answer this before the 

pope. 
Glo. Winchester goose ! I 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 a great tumult. In the midst of it, enter 
the Mayor of London, and Officers. 

May. Eie, lords! that you, being supreme 
magistrates, 
Thus contumeliously should break the peace ! 
Glo. Peace, mayor ; thou know'st little of my 
wrongs. 



* Peel'd — an allusion to the shaven crown of the priest. 

b The old travellers believed that Damascus was the scene 
of the first murder. Maundevlle says, " And in that place 
where Damascu* was founded Kaym slew Abel his brother." 



Act I.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV, 



Here 's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor 

king, 
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. 

Win. Here 's Gloster, too, a a foe to citizens ; 
One that still motions war, and never peace, 
O'ercharging your free purses with large fines ; 
That seeks to overthrow religion, 
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 tunmltuous 

strife, 
But to make open proclamation : — 
Come, officer, as loud as e'er thou can'st, cry. 

Off. All manner of men, assembled here in arras 
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 '11 be no breaker of the law : 
But we shall meet, and break our minds at 
large. 
Win. Gloster, we'll meet; to thy dear cost, b 
be sure : 
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work. 
May. I '11 call for clubs, if you will not away ; — ■ 
This cardinal is 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 
depart. — 
Good God ! that nobles should such stomachs 

bear ! 
I myself fight not once in forty year. [Exeunt. 



SCENE IV.— France. Before Orleans. 

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

M. Gun. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans 
is besieg'd, 
And how the English have the suburbs won. 
Son.. Father, I know; and oft have shot at 
them, 
Howe'er, unfortunate, I miss'd my aim. 



* So the second folio. The first omits too. 

b The first folio also omits dear, which is in the second. 



M. Gun. But now thou shalt not. Be thou 

ml'd by me : 
Chief master-gunner am I of this town ; 
Something I must do to procure me grace. 
The prince's espials a have informed me, 
How the English, in the suburbs close in- 

trench'd, 
Wont, b through a secret grate of iron bars 
In yonder tower, to overpeer the city ; 
And thence discover, how, with most advantage, 
They may vex us, with shot, or with assault. 
To intercept this inconvenience, 
A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd ; 
And fully even these three days have I watch'd 
K I could see them. Now, boy, 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 '11 never trouble you if I may spy them. 

Enter, in an upper chamber of a tower, the 
Lords Salisbury and Talbot, Sir William 
Glansdale, Sir Thomas Gaegrave, and 
others. 

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

Tal. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner, 
Called the brave lord Ponton de Santraillcs ; 
For him was I exchang'd and ransomed. 
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. d 
In fine, redeem'd I was as 1 desir'd. 
But, ! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my 

heart ! 
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. 



a Espials — spies. 

b Wont. The old copies read went. The correction, which 
is a very judicious one, was made by Tyrwhitt. Wont — are 
accustomed — accords with the construction of the remainder 
of the sentence. 

c We follow the reading of the second folio. In the first 
the passage stands thus : — 

" And even these three days have I watch'd 
If I could see them. Now do thou watch." 

d Pil'd-esteem'd in the original. Malone's correction to 
vile-esteem' d is natural and unforced. 



15 



Act 1 ] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



rSCKNR IV. 



Tal. "With scoffs, and scorns, and contume- 
lious taunts. 
In open market-place produc'd they me, 
To be a public spectacle to all : 
Here, said they, is the terror of the French, 
The scarecrow that affrights our children so. 
Then broke I from the officers that led me ; 
And with my nails digg'd stoues 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 en- 
dur'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 Glans- 

dale, 
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 fa- 
mish'd. 
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. 

\_Shotfrom the town. Salisbury and 
Sir Tiio. Gakgeave/^//. 
Sal. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretohed 

sinners ! 
Gar. Lord, have mercy on me, woeful 

man ! 
Tal. What chance is this that suddenly hath 
cross'd us ? 
Speak, Salisbury; al least, if thou canst speak ; 
How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? 
One of thy eyes, and thy check's side struck 
off!— 

ft The r.ccoml folio, reads 

" Here, through this grate I can count every one." 

16 



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 hand ! 
Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it. 
Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life ? 
Speak unto Talbot ; nay, look up to him. 
Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort ; 

Thou shalt not die, whiles 

He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me ; 
As who should say, c When I am dead and 

gone, 
Remember to avenge me on the French.' — 
Plantagenet, I will ; and like thee, Nero, a 
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn : 
Wretched shall France be only in my name. 

{Thunder heard ; afterwards an alarum. 
What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens? 
Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise ? 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess My lord, my lord, the French have ga- 
ther' d head : 
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 groans. 
Tal. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth 
groan ! 
It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd. — 
Frenchmen, I '11 be a Salisbury to you : — 
Pucelle or puzzel, b dolphin or dogfish, 
Your hearts I '11 stamp out with my horse's 

heels, 
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. 
Convey me Salisbury into his tent, 
And then we '11 try what these dastard French- 
men dare. 

[Exeunt, bearing out the bodies. 

*■ The original folio reads, 

" Plantagenet, I will ; and like thee." 

The second folio has, 

" Plantagenet, I will, and Nero-like, will." 

We prefer to add Nero to the end of the line, according to 
Malone's suggestion ; for nothing is more common, in print- 
ing with moveable types, than for a letter or a word at the 
end of a line of poetry to drop out, from the careless tilling 
up of the space by the compositor, 
!> Pnzzel~i\ dirtv drab. 



Act I.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scenes V., VI. 



SCENE X.— The same. Before one of the Gates. 

Alarum. Skirmishings. Talbot pursueth the 
Dauphin, and driveth him in ; then enter Joan 
la Pucelle, driving Englishmen before her. 
Then enter Talbot. 

Tal. Where is my strength, my valour, and 
my force ? 
Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; 
A woman, clad in armour, chaseth them. 

Enter La Pucelle. 

Here, here she comes : — I '11 have a bout with 

thee; 
Devil, or devil's dam, I '11 conjure thee : 
Blood will I draw on thee, thon art a witch, 8. 
And straightway give thy soul to him thou 
serv'st. 
Puc. Come, come, 'tis only I that must dis- 
grace thee. [Thej/ fight. 
Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to pre- 
vail ? 
My breast I'll burst with straining of my 

courage, 
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, 
But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. 
Puc. Talbot, farewell ; thy hour is not yet 
come : 
I must go victual Orleans forthwith. 
O'ertake me, if thou caust ; 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's 
wheel ; 
I know not where I am, nor what I do : 
A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, b 
Drives back our troops, and conquers as she 

lists : 
So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome 

stench, 
Are 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 ! cither 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 timorous from the wolf, 
Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard, 



» The superstitious belief was, that to draw blood from a 
witch was to destroy her power. 

b An allusion to Hannibal's stratagem, recorded in Livy, 
of fixing lighted twigs on the horns of oxen. 

Histories.— Vol. II. C 



As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. 

{Alarum. Another skirmish. 
It will not be : — Retire into your trenches : 
You all consented unto Salisbury's death, 
Eor 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 
his Forces, Sfc. 



SCENE VI.— The same. 

Enter, on the walls, Pucelle, Charles, Rf.ig- 
nier, Alencon, and Soldiers. 

Puc. Advance our waving colours on the 
walls; 
Rescued is Orleans from the English wolves : a — 
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word. 
Char. Divinest creature, bright Astraea's b 
daughter, 
How shall I honour thee for this success ? 
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, 
That one day bloom'd, and fruitful were the 

next. — 
France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess ! — 
Recover'd is the town of Orleans : 
More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. 
Reig. Why ring not out the bells aloud 
throughout 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. 
Alen. All France will be replete with mirth 
and joy, 
When they shall hear how we have play'd the 
men. 
Char. 'T is Joan, not we, by whom the day is 
won; 
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 '11 rear, 
Than Rhodope's, or Memphis', ever was : 



a So the second folio ; the first omits wolves. 

b Bright is omitted in the first folio, but is in the second. 

c "We should probably read, 

"Than Rhodope's, 0/ Memphis." 

The pyramid of Rhodope, near Memphis, is mentioned by 
p]i n y : — "The fairest and most commended for workman- 
ship was built at the cost and charges of one Rhodope, a very 
strumpet." Herodotus (ii., 134) maintains that the pyramid 
was not built by Rhodope (Rhodopis). 

17 



Act I.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scnxr. VI. 



In memory of her, when she is dead, 
Her ashes, in an urn more precious 
Than the rich jewell'd coffer of Darius, a 

» The expression of the text, and the explanation, are 
found in a pa^sTge of Puttenham's - Arte of « shPoe«e 
nso—''In what price the noble poems of Homer were 
holden with Mexander the Great, insomuch that every, night 
?hev were aid under his pillow, and by day were carried in 
^rZhjewetcoffer of Darius, lately before vanquished by 
.' im in battle." 



Transported shall be at high festivals 
Before the kings and queens of Prance. 
No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry, 
But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. 
Come in : and let us banquet royally, 
After this golden day of victory. 

[Flourish. Exeunt. 




[Tower HU.] 



ILLUSTRATIONS OE ACT I. 



1 Scene I. — " Hung be the heavens with black." 

" The covering, or internal roof, of the theatre 
was anciently termed the heavens." Malone, in 
his ' History of the Stage,' has collected some pas- 
sages from old writers to prove this. The passage 
before us would warrant us in believing that upon 
the performance of tragedy the roof, or heavens, 
underwent some gloomy transformation. There 
is a similar allusion in Marston's ' Insatiate Coun- 
tess :' 

" The stage of heaven is hung with solemn black, 
A time best fitting to act tragedies." 

Mr. Whiter ('Specimen of a Commentary,' &c.) 
has a long and very ingenious passage to prove, 
that several of the poetical images of Shakspere 
are derived from this association. 

- Scene II. — " Noiv am I like that proud insult- 
ing ship, 
Wliich Ccesar and his fortune bare at once." 

The comparison was suggested by a passage in 
Plutarch's ' Life of Caesar,' thus translated by 



North : " Caesar, hearing that, straight discovered 
himself tinto the master of the pinnace, who at 
the first was amazed wheu he saw him ; but Caesar, 
&c, said unto him, Good fellow, be of good cheer, 
&c, and fear not, for thou hast Ccesar and his for- 
tune with thee. " 

3 Scene II. — " Was Mahomet inspired with a dove?" 

In Prideaux's ' Life of Mahomet ' we read that 
the prophet of the Arabians had a dove, " which 
he used to feed with wheat out of his ear ; which 
dove, when it was hungry, lighted on Mahomet's 
shoulder, and thrust its bill in to fiud its breakfast ; 
Mahomet persuading the rude and simple Arabians 
that it was the Holy Ghost that gave him advice." 

4 Scene III. — " Blue-coats to-tawny-coat s." 

It appears that the tawny coat was the livery of 
an apparitor, and probably of ecclesiastical officers 
in general. Stow describes the Bishop of London 
as "attended on by a goodly company of gentle- 
men in tawny coats," 



HISTOEICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



It was a favourite theory with the commenta- 
tors upon Shakspere, after the time of Dr. Fanner, 
that the acquired knowledge of the poet was of 
the most limited character. According to these 
critics, he was not only unable to read any language 
but his own, but his power even of reading in 
English books was limited in a degree that would 
indicate him to have been the most idle or the 
most incurious of mankind. Maloue's favourite 
opinion is, that Shakspere consulted but one his- 
torical writer for the materials of his Histories. 
In a note upon the passage in the first act of 
Henry V. in which the King of France is 
erroneously called " King Louis the tenth," 
Malone says that Holinshed led Shakspere into 
the mistake, and that Hall calls the King correctly 
Charles the ninth ; and he adds, — " Here, therefore, 
we have a decisive proof that our author's guide 
in all his historical plays was Holinshed, and not 
Hall." In a note upon the second act of the First 
Part of Henry VI., where an English soldier enters, 
crying, "A Talbot, a Talbot !" the same critic says, 
" I have quoted a passage from Hall's Chronicle, 
which probably furnished the author of this play 
with this circumstance. It is not mentioned by 
Holinshed (ShaJcspeare's historian), and is one of 
the numerous proofs. that have convinced me that 
this play was not the production of our author." 

C2 



Without entering into a discussion in this place as 
to the value of Malone's argument that Shakspere 
was not the author of the First Part of Henry VI. 
because the author of that play had evidently con- 
sulted Hall's Chronicle, we must express a decided 
opinion of the worthlessness of this point, in justifi- 
cation of our intention to illustrate the play before 
us by passages taken indifferently from Hall or 
Holinshed. We believe that the question whether 
Shakspere was the author of the First Part of 
Henry VI. is not in the slightest degree affected 
by the circumstance that the author of this play 
appears to have been familiar with the narrative 
of Hall, in which the circumstances of this period 
of history are given more in detail than by Holin- 
shed. It was perfectly impossible that any writer 
who undertook to produce four dramas upon the 
subject of the wars of York and Lancaster should 
not have gone to Hall's Chronicle as an authority ; 
for that book is expressly on the subject of these 
wars. The original edition of 1548 bears this 
title :— ' The Vnion of the two noble and illustre 
Famelies of Lancastre and Yorke, beeyina; long in 
continual discension for the croune of this noble 
realme, with all the actes done in bothe the tymes 
of the princes, bothe of the one linage and of the 
other, beginnyng at the tyme of Kyng Henry the 
fowerth, the first Aurthor of this deuision, and so 

19 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT I. 



successiuely proceadyng to the reigne of h high 
and prudent prince Kyng Henry the «gj fc . *J 
vndubitate flower and very heire of both thesaj d 
linages.' If it could be proved that Shakspere had 
^consulted a book the entire subject of which 
he has dramatised, devoting to that subject nine 
out of his ten historical plays, we should consider 
it the most marvellous circumstance in lite a. y 
history, and totally inexplicable upon any other 
heory than that of the grossest ignorance on *he 
part of the author. The phrase of Malone, 
« Shakspeares historian," assumes that Shakspere 
conld only read in one book. It was perfectly 
natural that he, for the most part, should folic m 
Holinshed, which is a compilation from all the 
English historians; but, as Holinshed constantly 
refers to his authorities, and ra the period of the 



civil wars particularly to Hall, it is manifest that 
for some of his details he would go to the book 
especially devoted to the subject, in which they 
were treated more fully than in the abridgment 
which he generally consulted. For example, in 
Holinshed's narrative of the pathetic interview 
between Talbot and his son, before they both fell 
at the battle of Chatillon, we have no dialogue 
between the father and son, but simply, " Many 
words he used to persuade him to have saved hia 
life." In Hall we have the very words at length 
which the poet has paraphrased. We repeat, 
therefore, that we shall quote indifferently from 
Hall and Holinshed passages illustrating this play, 
without considering that the question of its 
authorship is in the slightest degree involved in 
thus tracing the footsteps of its author. 




[Tomb of Henry V., in Westminster Abbey.] 



The play opens with the funeral of Henry V. In 
tin's, as it appears to us, there is great dramatic 
judgment. The death of that prince, who was the 
conqueror of France and the idol of England — 
who, by his extraordinary talents and energy, obli- 
terated almost the memory of the circumstances 
r which his father obtained the throne — was 
Hi' tilting point of a long period of error and mis- 
fortune, during which France was lost, and England 
torn to pieces by civil war. It was the purpose of 
the poi t 1" mark most strikingly the obvious cause 
of these events ; and thus, surrounding the very 
bier of Henry V., the great lords, to whom were 
committed the management of his kingdom and 
the guardianship of his son. begin to dispute, and 
the messenger of France reproaches them for their 
party conflicts : — 
20 



" Among the soldiers this is muttered, — 
That here you maintain several factions." 

This, indeed, was an anticipation ; for it was two 
or three years after the accession of Henry VI. that 
the quarrels of Gloster and Beaufort became dan- 
gerous to the realm. In the same way, the losses 
of towns in France, the coronation of the Dauphin 
at Rheims, and the defeat of Talbot at Patay, were 
all anticipations of events which occurred during 
the succeeding seven years. The poet had the 
chronicles before him in which these events are 
detailed, year by year, with the strictest regard to 
dates. But he was not himself a chronicler. It 
was his business to crowd the narrative of these 
events upon the scene, so as to impress upon his 
audience the general truth that the death of Henry 
V. was succeeded by disasters which finally over- 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



threw the empire of the English in France. In the 
final chorus to Henry V., written some years after 
this play, the dramatic connexion of these disasters 
with the death of this heroic prince is clearly indi- 
cated : — 

" Fortune made his sword ; 



By which the world's best garden he achiev'd, 

And of it left his son imperial lord. 
Henry the sixth, in infant bands crown'd king 

Of Fiance and England, did this king succeed; 
Whose state so many had the managing, 

That they lost France, and made his England bleed : 
Which oft our stage hath shown." 

This is the theme of the three parts of Henry VI., 
and of Richard III.: and in this, the first of these 
four dramas, or rather the first division of this one 
great drama, the poet principally shows how France 
was lost, whilst he slightly touches upon the growth 
of those factions through which England bled. 
Previous to the loss of Fiance there was a period of 



brilliant success, during which the Regent Bedford 
appeared likely to ensure to Henry VI. the quiet 
possession of what Henry V. had won for him. But 
it was not the province of the dramatist to exhibit 
this aspect of affairs. In the first scene he prepares 
us, by a bold condensation of the narrative of events 
connected in themselves, but occurring at distant 
periods, for the final loss of France. In the second 
scene he brings us at once into the heart of the 
extraordinary circumstances in which the final dis- 
comfiture of the English commenced — the appear- 
ance of Joan of Arc before Orleans, and the almost 
miraculous success which attended that appearance. 
There was a real interval of nearly seven years be- 
tween the events of the first scene and of the second. 
Henry V. died on the 31st of August, 1422 ; Joan 
of Arc entered Orleans in April, 1429. Here, then, 
commences the true dramatic action of this play. 
The preceding scene stands in the place of a pro- 
logue, and is the key-note to what is to follow. 




[Joan of Arc] 



The narrative of Holinshed, and not that of Hall, 
has been followed by the poet in the second scene 
of this act. Mai one did some injustice to Shak- 
spere in maintaining that he could not have been 
the author of the First Part of Henry VI., because 
the author consulted Hall ; for, as it is manifest 
that the author consulted both chroniclers, Malone 
gives to his unknown author the merit of doing 
what he affirms Shakspere did not do — consult two 
writers on one subject. To have been consistent 
in his argument, he ought to have shown that the 
unknown author did not consult Holinshed. The 
narrative of Holinshed, then, who has been con- 
sulted in this case, of the first interview of Joan 
of Arc with Charles VII., is as follows : — 

" In time of this siege at Orleans, unto Charles 
the Dauphin, at Chinon, as he was in very great 



care and study how to wrestle against the English 
nation, by one Peter Badricourt, captain of Vacou- 
leur (made after marshal of France by the Dau- 
phin's creation), was carried a young wench of an 
eighteen years old, called Joan Arc, by name of 
her father (a sorry shepherd), James of Arc, and 
Isabella her mother, brought up poorly in their 
trade of keeping cattle, born at Donqjrin (there- 
fore reported by Bale, Joan Domprin), upon Me use 
in Lorraine, within the diocese of Thoule. Of fa- 
vour was she counted likesome, of person strongly 
made and manly, of courage great, hardy, and stout 
withal, an understander of counsels though she 
were not at them, great semblance of chastity both 
of body and behaviour, the name of Jesus in her 
mouth about all her businesses, humble, obedient, 
and fasting divers days in the week. A person (as 

21 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT I. 



their books make her) raised up by power divine, 
only for succour to the French estate, then deeply 
in distress, in whom, for planting a credit the 
rather, first the company that towards the Dauphin 
did conduct her, through places all dangerous, as 
held by the English, where she never was afore, 
all the way and by nightertale* safely did she lead : 
then at the Dauphin's sending by her assignement, 
from Saint Katherine's church of Fierbois in Tou- 
raine (where she never had been and knew not), 
in a secret place there, among old iron, appointed 
she her sword to be sought out and brought her, 
that with five fleurs-de-lis was graven on both sides, 
wherewith she fought and did many slaughters by 
her own bauds. In warfare rode she in armour, 
cap-a-pie and mustered as a man, before her an 
ensign all white, wherein was Jesus Christ painted 
with a fleur-de-lis in his hand. 

" Unto the Dauphin into his gallery when first 
she was brought,- and he shadowing himself behind, 
setting other gay lords before him to try her cun- 
ning from all the company, with a salutation (that 
indeed was all the matter) she picked him out 
alone, who thereupon had her to the end of the 
gallery, where she held him an hour in secret and 
private talk, that of his privy chamber was thought 
very long, and therefore would have broken it off ; 
but he made them a sign to let her say on. In 
which (among other), as likely it was, she set out 
uuto him the singular feats (forsooth) given her to 
understand by revelation divine, that in virtue of 
that sword she should achieve, which were, how 
with honour and victory she would raise the siege 
at Orleans, set him in state of the crown of France, 

* Night-time. The word is in Chaucer : — 
" S > note he loved, that by nightertale 
He slept no more than doth the nightingale." 
Tyrwhitt explains it as derived from the Saxon nightern 
da?l, — noclurna poriio. 



aud drive the English out of the country, thereby 
he to enjoy the kingdom alone. Hereupon he 
hearkened at full, appointed her a sufficient army 
with absolute power to lead them, and they obe- 
diently to do as she bade them." 

Our quotatiou is from the second and enlarged 
edition of Holiushed published in 1586-7 ; and by 
this quotation the fact is established, which has 
not before been noticed, that the author of the 
First Part of Henry VI. must have consulted that 
very edition. In the original edition of Holinshed, 
the first appearance of Joan of Arc at Orleans is 
treated in a very different manner : — 

"While this treaty was in hand, the Dauphin 
studied daily how to provide remedy, by the deli- 
very of his friends in Orleans out of their present 
danger. And even at the same time that monstrous 
woman, named Joan la Pucell de Dieu, was pre- 
sented to him at Chinon, where as then he so- 
journed, of which woman ye may find more written 
iu the French history, touching her birth, estate, 
and quality. But, briefly to speak of her doings, 
so much credit was given to her, that she was 
honoured as a saint, and so she handled the matter 
that she was thought to be sent from God to the aid 
of the Dauphin, otherwise called the French King, 
Charles, the seventh of that name, as an instrument 
to deliver France out of the Englishmen's hands, 
and to establish him iu the kingdom." 

In this passage the term " monstrous woman" is 
takeu from Hall, who says " she as a monster was 
sent to the Dolphin." Hall says she was " a great 
space a chamberlain in a common hostery, and was 
a ramp of such boldness that she would course 
horses and ride them to water, and do things that 
other young maidens both abhorred and were 
ashamed to do." The description of Joan of Arc 
by herself — 

" Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter"— 




(Charles VII. of Frince.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



is suggested by Holinshed : — " Brought up poorly 
in their trade of keeping cattle." Of the choice of 
her sword " out of a deal of old iron," we have no- 
thing in Hall, nor in the first edition of Holinshed, 
nor have we the selection of the Dauphin from 
amongst his courtiers in these earlier authorities. 

The third scene of this act hurries us back to 
London. The poet will not lose sight of the events 
which made England bleed, whilst he delineates 
those by which France was lost. The narrative of 
Holinshed, upon which this scene is founded, is 
almost a literal transcript from Hall. Both chro- 
niclers give the complaint before the Parliament at 
Leicester of Gloster agaiust Beaufort ; of which 
the first article alleges that the Bishop incited 
Woodville, the Lieutenant of the Tower, to refuse 
admission to Gloster, " he being protector and 
defender of this land." 

The fourth scene is a dramatic amplification of a 
dramatic scene which the poet found both in Hall 
and Holinshed. We give the passage from the lat- 
ter chronicler, as it differs very slightly from that 
of his predecessor : — 

" In the tower that was taken at the bridge end 
(as before you have heard) there was an high cham- 
ber, having a grate full of bars of iron, by the 
which a man might look all the length of the 
bridge into the city ; at which grate many of the 
chief captains stood many times, viewing the city, 
and devising in what place it was best to give the 
assault. They within the city well perceived this 
tooting-hole, and laid a piece of ordinance directly 
against the window. It so chanced, that, the nine- 
and-fiftieth day after the siege was laid, the Earl 
of Salisbury, Sir Thomas Gargrave, and William 
Glansdale, with divers other, went into the said 
tower, and so into the high chamber, and looked 



out at the grate, aud, within a short space, the son 
of the master-gunner, perceiving men looking out 
at the window, took his match (as his father had 
taught him, who was gone down to dinner), and 
fired the gun ; the shot whereof broke and shivered 
the iron bars of the grate, so that one of the same 
bars struck the earl so violently on the head, that 
it struck away one of his eyes and the side of his 
cheek. Sir Thomas Gargrave was likewise stricken, 
and died within two days. The earl was conveyed 
to Meun on Loire, where, after eight days, he 
likewise departed this world." 

The fifth scene, the subject of which is the 
entry of Joan of Arc into Orleans, follows the 
course of narration in both chroniclers ; but it 
was in Hall that the poet found a suggestion for 
this passage : — 

" Why ring not out the bells throughout the town 1 
Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, 
And feast and banquet in the open streets, 
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us." 

The old historian is quaintly picturesque in his 
notice of the joy which this great event produced 
amongst the French : — 

"After this siege thus broken up, to tell you what 
triumphs were made in the city of Orleans, what 
wood was spent in fires, what wine was drunk in 
houses, what songs were sung in the streets, what 
melody was made in taverns, what rounds were 
danced in large and broad places, what lights were 
set up in the churches, what anthems were sung 
in chapels, and what joy was showed in every 
place, it were a long work, and yet no necessary 
cause. For they did as we in like case would have 
done; and we, being in like estate, would have 
done as they did." 




[Orleans ] 



ACT II. 



SCENE I.— Orleans. 

E,der to the gates, a French Sergeant, and Tico 
Sentinels. 

Serg. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant : 
1 f any noise, or soldier, you perceive 
Near to the walls, by some apparent sign 
Let us have knowledge at the court of guard. 3, 

1 Sent. Sergeant, you shall. [Exit Sergeant.] 
Thus arc poor servitors 
(When others sleep upon their quiet beds) 
Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain, and cold. 

Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and Forces, 
with scaling ladders; their drums beating a 
dead march. 
Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, — 

n Court a/ guard. Stcevcns says this is equivalent to the 
modem term " guard-room. " This is rather a forced inter- 
pretation! for the word court indicates with sufficient preci- 
sion the general place of guard— the enclosed space where a 
guard is held — in which the guard-room is situated. 

24 



By whose approach, the regions of Artois, 
Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us,— 
This 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 
wrongs 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 r 

Bur. Pray God she prove not masculine ere 
long ; 
If underneath the standard of the French, 
She carry armour, as she hath begun. 



Aci II.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCEKE II. 



Tal. Well, let them practise aud 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, 
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 '11 to yon corner. 
Bur. Aud I to this. 

Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his 
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. 

[ The English scale the walls, crying St. George ! 

a Talbot ! and all enter by the Town. 
Sent. [Within^] Arm, arm! the enemy cloth 
make assault ! 

The French leap over the walls in their shirts. 
Enter, several ways, Bastard, Alencon, 
Reignier, half ready, and half unready. 

Men. How now, my lords ? what, all unready 0, 

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

well. 
Reig. 'T was time, I trow, to wake aud leave 

our beds, 
Hearing alarums at our chamber doors. 

Alen. Of all exploits, since first I follow'd arms, 
Ne'er 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. 

Enter Charles and La Pucelle. 

Bast. Tut! holy Joau was bis 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 ? 
Puc. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his 
friend ? 



a Unready — undressed. 
('Island Princess ') — 



So in Beaumont and Fletcher 



I slept but ill last night." 



Make me unready ; 



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 fall'n. 
Char. Duke of Alencon, this was your rip- 
fault ; 
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. 
Bast. 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, 
I 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 ; 't is 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 dispers'd, 
And lay new platforms a to endamage them. 

Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying a 
Talbot! a Talbot! They fly, leaving their 
clothes 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 weapon 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. 



» Pla tforms-y\ans. A platform is a delineation of a>rrr 
on a plain surface-and hence a plan generally. In North » 
Plutarch platform is used in the sense of a plan ^hart or 
ma p :_" They were every one occupied a>iout drawing tne 
platform of Sicilia." 



Act II.J 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 111 



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 I paid my vow unto his soul ; 
For every drop of blood was drawn from him, 
There hath at least five Frenchmen died to- 
night. 
And, that hereafter ages may behold 
What ruin Lappen'd in revenge of him, 
Within their chiefest temple 1 '11 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. 
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, 
I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace, 
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc, 
Nor any of his false confederates. 
Bed. 'T is thought, lord Talbot, when the 
fight 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 dusky vapours of the night) 
Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin, and his trull ; 
When arm in arm they both came swiftly run- 
ning, 
Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves 
That could not live asunder day or night. 
After that things are set in order here, 
We '11 follow them with all the power we have. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. All hail, my lords! which of this 
princely train 
Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts 
So much applauded through the realm of 
France ? 
Tal. Here is the Talbot; who would speak 

with him ? 
Mess. The virtuous lady, countess of Au- 
vergne, 
With modesty admiring thy renown, 
By me entreats, great lord, 1 thou would'st vouch- 
safe 
To visit her poor castle where she lies ; b 
That she may boast she hath beheld the man 
Whose glory fills the world with loud report. 



■ Great lord. So in the original copy, and in all subse- 
quent editions, till those which are called variorum. Tin 
word great ii then changed to good, probably by an error of 
the press. 

b Lies — dwells. 

26 



Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our 
wars 
Will turn unto 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 over-rul'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 re- 
medy,) 
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. 
Come hither, captain. [Whispers.'] — You per- 
ceive 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 ; 
And when you have done so, bring the keys to 
me. 
Port. Madam, I will. [Exit. 

Count. The plot is laid : if all things fall out 
right, 
I shall as famous be by this exploit 
As Scythian Thomyris 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 a of these rare reports. 

Enter Messenger and Talbot. 

Mess. Madam, 
According as your ladyship 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. 

Con nl. Is this the scourge of France? 

Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad. 
That with his name the mothers still their 
babes ? 

* Censure — opinion. 




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55 



Act II.] 



FIEST PAET OF KING HENKY VI. 



[SCI. NE IV. 



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 be this weak and writhled" shrimp 

Should strike such terror to his enemies. 

Tal. Madam, I have been bold to trouble 
you: 
But since your ladyship is not at leisure, 
I '11 sort some other time to visit you. 

Count. What means he now ? — Go ask him 
whither he goes. 

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

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

Re-enter Porter, with keys. 

Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. 

Tal. Prisoner ! to whom ? 

Count. To me, blood-thirsty lord ; 

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 : 
But now thy substance shall endure the like ; 
And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, 
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 ? thy mirth shall 
turn to moan. 

Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond, 
To think that you have aught but Talbot's sha- 
dow, 
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 ; 
He will be here, and yet he is not here : 
How can these contrarieties agree ? 

Tal. That will I show you presently. 



Writhled — wrinkled. So in Spenser : 
" Her writhled skin, as rough as maple rind." 



He winds a horn. Drums heard; then a Peal 

of Ordnance. The gales 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 ; 
Bazeth 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 mis 
conster 1 
The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake 
The outward composition of his body. 
What you have done hath not offended me : 
Nor 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. 

SCENE IV.— London. The Temple Garden. 

Enter the Earls of Somerset, Suffolk, and 
Warwick ; Bichard Plantagenet, Vernon, 
and another Lawyer. 

Elan. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means 
this silence ? 
Dare no man answer in a case of truth ? 

Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too 
loud ; 
The garden here is more convenient. 

Plan. Then say at once, If I maintain the 
truth ; 
Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error ? 
Suf. '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. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then 
between us. 



* Misconster. So the original: it was ordinarily printed 
misconstrue. In the quarto edition of Othello we find tha 
word : 

" And his unbookish jealousy must conster." 

97 



Act II.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



War. Between two hawks, which flies the 
higher pitch, 
Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, 
Between two blades, which bears the better tem- 
per, 
Between two horses, which doth bear him best, 
Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, 
I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judg- 
ment : 
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, 
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. 

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

Som. 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. 
Plan. Since yon are tongue-tied, and so loath 
to speak, 
In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts : 
Let him 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 flat- 
terer, 
But dare maintain the party of the truth, 
Thick a red rose from off this thorn with me. 
War. I love no colours ; a and, without all 
colour 
Of base insinuating flattcrv, 
I pluck this white rose, with Plantagenet. 
Suf. I pluck this red rose, with young Somer- 
set ; 
And say withal, I think he held the light. 
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 ob- 
jected;' 5 
If I have fewest I subscribe in silence. 
Plan. And I. 

Ver. Then, for the truth and plainness of the 
case, 
I 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; 



* Colours- here used ambiguously for dtceils: as in Love's 
1 abour'a Lost, " I do feai colourable colour*." 

b Objected. The word is not here used in Die ordinary 
iense of opposed^ut in its less common meaning of proposed 
— luygcsted. 

9S 



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, 
Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, 
And keep me on the side where still I am. 
Som. Well, well, come on ; "Who else ? 
Law. Unless my study and my books be 
false, 
The argument you held was wrong in you ; 

[To Somerset. 
In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too. 
Plan. Now, Somerset, where is your argu- 
ment ? 
Som. Here, in my scabbard ; meditating that 
Shall die your white rose in a bloody red. 

Plan. Meantime, your cheeks do counterfeit 
our roses ; 
For pale they look with fear, as witnessing 
The truth on our side. 

Som. No, Plantagenet, 

'T is not for fear, but anger, — that thy cheeks 
Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses ; 
And yet thy tongue will not confess thy errror. 
Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somer- 
set ? 
Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet ? 
Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain 
his truth ; 
Whiles thy consuming canker eats Ms false- 
hood. 
Som. Well, I '11 find friends to wear my bleed- 
ing roses, 
That shall maintain what I have said is true, 
Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. 
Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my 
hand, 
I scorn thee and thy fashion, 1 peevish boy. 
Suf. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plan- 
tagenet. 
Plan. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both 

him and thee. 
Suf. I '11 turn my part thereof into thy 

throat. 
Som. 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, 
Third son to the third Edward kiug of Eng- 
land ; 
Spring crestlcss yeomen from so deep a root ? 



11 Fashion. So the original. Malone reads faction, which 
was a correction by Theobald. 



Act II.] 



FIKST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene V. 



Plan. He bears him on the place's privilege, 
Or durst not, for bis 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 Cam- 
bridge, 
.For treason executed in our late king's days ? 
And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted, 
Corrupted, and exempt a from ancient gentry ? 
His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood ; 
And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman. 

Plan. My father was attached, not attainted ; 
Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor ; 
And that I '11 prove on better men than Somer- 
set, 
Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. 
For your partaker b Poole, and you yourself, 
I '11 note you in my book of memory, 
To scourge yon for this apprehension : ° 
Look to it well ; and say you are well warn'd. 
Som. 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. 
Plan. And, by my soul, this pale and angry 
rose, 
As cognizance d of my blood-drinking hate, 
Will I for ever, and my faction, wear ; 
Until it wither with me to my grave, 
Or flourish to the height of my degree. 
Suf. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy 
ambition ! 
And so farewell, until I meet thee next. 

[Evil. 
Som. Have with thee, Poole. — Farewell, am- 
bitious Richard. [Exit. 
Plan. How I am brav'd, and must perforce 

endure it ! 
War. This blot, that they object against your 
house, 
Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, 
CalPd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster : 
And, if thou be not then created York, 
I will not live to be accounted Warwick. 
Meantime, in signal of my love to thee, 
Against proud Somerset and William Poole, 
Will I upon thy party wear this rose : 
And here 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. 



* Exempt — excluded. 
c Apprehension — opinion. 



!> Partaker — confederate. 
>' Cognizance — badge. 



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

[Exeunt. 



SCENE V. — 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 grey locks, the pursuivants of death, 
Nestor-like aged, in an age of care, 
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer. 
These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is 

spent, 
Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent : a 
Weak shoulders, overborne with burd'nino- o-rief ; 
And pithless 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 ? 
1 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 satis- 
fied. 
Poor gentleman ! his wrong doth equal mine. 
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, 
(Before whose glory I was great in arms,) 
This loathsome sequestration have I had ; 
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd, 
Depriv'd 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; 
I would his troubles likewise were expir'd, 
That so he might recover what was lost. 



a Exigent — end. 



29 



AC7 II.] 



FIRST PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene V, 



Enter Richard Plantagenet. 

1 Keep. My lord, your loving nephew now is 

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

come ? 

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

Mor. Direct mine arms, I may embrace his 
neck, 
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp : 
0, 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 did'st thou say— of late thou wert despis'd? 

Plan. First, lean thine aged back against 
mine arm ; 
And, hi that ease, I '11 tell thee my disease. 1 
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 ray tongue, 
Else with the like 1 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, fan- nephew, b that im- 
prison'd me, 
And hath detain'd me, all my flow'ring youth, 
Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, 
Was cursed instrument of his decease. 

Plan. 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, 
Depos'd his nephew Richard, — Edward's son, 
The first-begotten, and the lawful heir 
Of Edward king, the third of that descent : 
During whose reign, the Percies of the north, 
Finding his usurpation most unjust, 
I ii leavour'd my advancement to the throne : 
The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this, 
Was — for that (young king Richard thus re- 

niov'd, 
Leaving no heir begotten of his bodj | 
! was the next by birth and parentage, 
For by my mother I derived am 



" Disease — uneasiness— unease. 

b Nephew — put generally for a relative— the Latin, nepnt. 



30 



From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son 
To king Edward the third, whereas he 
From John of Gaunt doth bring his 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 ; weening to redeem, 
And have install'd me hi 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. 
Plan. Of which, my lord, your honour is the 

last. 
Mor. True ; and thou seest that I no issue 

have; 
And that my fainting words do warrant death : 
Thou art my heir ; the rest, I wish thee gather ; 
And yet be wary in thy studious care. 

Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with 

me : 
But yet, methiuks, 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. 

Plan. 0, uncle, would some part of my young 

years 
Might but redeem the passage of your age ! 
Mor. Thou dost then wrong me; as the 

slaught'rer doth, 
"Which giveth many wounds when one w 7 ill 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 ! 

[2M 9. 
Plan. And peace, no war, befal thy parting 

soul ! 
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, 
And like a hermit ovcrpass'd thy days. 
Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast ; 
And what I do imagine, let that rest. 
Keepers, convey him hence : and I myself 
Will see his burial better than his life. 

[Exeunt Keepers, bearing out Mortimeii. 



Act II.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene V. 



Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, 
Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort : 
And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, 
Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house, 
T 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 a the advantage of my good. 



[Exit 



a ///—ill usage. 







[Scene IV. The Temple Gcrdea.j 



■ 

A 




^\ A KM™] Kl\i' 
[Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury.] 

ILLUSTRATION OP ACT II. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



' ; Tiiis is that terrible Talbot, so famous for his 
sword, or rather whose sword was so famous for 
his arm that used it ; a sword with bad Latin * 
upon it, but good steel within it ; which con- 
stantly conquered where it came, in so much that 
the bare fame of his approach frighted the French 
from the siege of Burdeaux." 

Such is the quaint notice which old Fuller, in his 
'Worthies,' gives of Talbot. He is the hero of the 
play before us ; and it is easy to see how his bold, 
chivalrous bearing, and, above all, the manner of 
his death, should have made him the favourite of 
the poet as well as of the chroniclers. His name 
appears to have been a traditionary household 
word up to the time of Shakspere ; and other 
writers, besides the chroniclers, rejoiced in allu- 
sions to his warlike deeds. Edward Kcrke, the 
commentator on Spenser's 'Pastorals,' thus speaks 
of him in 1579: — "His nobleness bred such 
a terror in the hearts of the French, that oft- 
times great armies were defeated and put to 
flight :it the only hearing of his name: in so much 
that the French women, to affray their children, 
would tell them that the Talbot cometh." By a 
poetical licence, Talbot, in this act, is made to 
retake Orleans; whereas in truth his defeat at the 

• Sum Talboti pro vincere inimicos meos. 
32 



battle of Patay soon followed upon the raising of 
the siege after the appearance of Joan of Arc. The 
loss of this battle is attributed, in the description 
of the messenger in the first act, solely to the 
cowardice of Sir John Fastolfe; aud in the fourth 
act we are witnesses to the degradation of this 
knight upon the same imputation of cowardice. 
There is scarcely enough in the chroniclers to have 
warranted the poet in making this charge against 
Fastolfe so prominent. The account of Holinshed, 
which we subjoin, is nearly a transcript from Hall : 
— "From this battle departed, without any strokes 
stricken, Sir John Fastolfe, the same year for his 
valiantness elected into the Order of the Garter ; 
for which cause the Duke of Bedford took from 
him the image of St. George, and his garter, though 
afterward, by mean of friends and apparent causes 
of good excuse, the same were to him again deli- 
vered, against the mind of the Lord Talbot." It 
is highly probable that Fastolfe, of whose privato 
character we have an intimate knowledge from those 
most curious records of social life in the days of 
Henry VI., the ' Pastou Letters,' was a commander 
whose discretion was habitually opposed to the fiery 
temperament of Talbot; and that, Talbot being the 
especial favourite of his soldiers, the memory of 
Fastolfe was handed down to Shakspere's day as 
that of one who had contributed to lose France by 



FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 



Lis timidity, he dying in prosperity and ease in 
England, whilst the great Talbot perished in the 
field, leaving in the popular mouth the sentiment 
which Fuller has preserved, "Henceforward we 
may say good night to the English in France." 

The Bastard of Orleans, who appears in this act, 
gave the first serious blow to the power of the 
English in France at the battle of Montargis. 

The scene in the Temple gardens is of purely 
dramatic creation. It is introduced, we think, 
with singular judgment, with reference to the 
purpose of connecting the First Part of Henry 
VI. with the Second and Third Parts. The scene 
of the death of Mortimer is introduced with the 
same object. Edmund Mortimer did not die in 
confinement, nor was he an old man at the time of 



his death; but the accounts of the chroniclers are 
so confused, that the poet has not committed any 
violation of historical truth, such as it presented 
itself to him, in dramatising the following passage 
of Hall (the third year of Henry VI.) : — " During 
which season Edmund Mortimer, the last Earl of 
March of that name (which long time had been 
restrained from his liberty, and finally waxed 
lame), deceased without issue, whose inheritance 
descended to Lord Richard Plantagenet, son and 
heir to Richard Earl of Cambridge, beheaded, as 
you have heard before, at the town of Southampton. 
Which Richard, within less than thirty years, as 
heir to this Earl Edmund, in open parliament 
claimed the crown and sceptre of this realm." 




[Bastard of Orleans. 



Histokies.— Vol. II. 




IScene I. The Parliament-House.] 



ACT III. 



SCENE I.— London. The Parliament-House. 

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Exeter, Glos- 
ter, Warwick, Somerset, and Suffolk; 
the Bishop of Winchester, Richard Plan- 
TAGENET, and others. Gloster offers to put 
up a bill; "Winchester snatches it, and 
tears it. 

Win. Com'st thou with deep premeditated 
lines, 
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd, 
Humphrey of Gloster? if thou canst accuse, 
( )r aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, 
Do it without invention suddenly; 
As I with sudden and cxtemporal speech 
Purpose to answer what thou canst object. 
Ulo. Presumptuous priest ! this place com- 
mands my patience, 
34 



Or thou should'st find thou hast dishonour'd me. 
Think 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 dissentious pranks, 
As very infants prattle of thy pride. 
Thou art a most pernicious usurer ; 
Eroward 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 laii'st a trap to take my life, 
As well at London bridge, as at the Tower? 
Beside, I fear me, it tny thoughts were sifted, 
The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt 
Erom envious malice of thy swelling heart. 



Act HI.] 



FIRST PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene I, 



Win. Gloster, I do defy thee. Lords, vouch- 
safe 
To give me hearing what I shall reply. 
If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse, 
As he will have me, how am I so poor ? 
Or how haps it I seek not to advance 
Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling ? 
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 ? 

Glo. Am I not protector, saucy priest ? a 

Win. And am I not 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 reverent, 

Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. 

Win. Borne shall remedy this. 

War. Roam thither then. 

Som. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. 

War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. 

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

War. Methinks, his lordship should be hum- 
bler ; 
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. 

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

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

Plan. 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. [Aside. 

K. lien. Uncles of Gloster, and of Winchester, 
The special watchmen of our English weal, 
I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, 
To join your hearts in love and amity. 

" Steevens prints this line thus, " for the sake of metre : " — 

" Am I not the protector, saucy priest?" 

The opportunities in this play for Steevens's interference in 
this manner are remarkably few. We should not notice 
them, except to mention that we hold it of importance to ex- 
hibit this play as we have received it, except in cases of mani- 
fest error, which rarely occur. It is printed with singular 
correctness in the original folio. 

D2 



0, 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 this? 

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. 0, my good lords, — and virtuous 
Henry, — 
Pity the city of London, pity us ! 
The bishop 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, 
Do pelt so fast at one another's pate, 
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, icith bloody pates. 

K. Hen. We charge you, on allegiance to 

ourself, 
To hold your slaught'ring hands, and keep the 

peace. 
Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife. 

1 Serv. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we ; 11 
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 knew 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, 0. 
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 ! 

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



a An inkhorn mate.— Wilson, in his 'Art of Rhetoric' 
1533, describes a pedant as using " inkhorn terms." 

35 



Act III.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene I. 



A'. Hen. 0, how this discord doth afflict my 
soid! 
Can you, my lord of "Winchester, behold 
My sighs and tears, and mil not once relent ? 
Who should be pitifid, if you be not ? 
Or who should study to prefer a peace, 
If holy churchmen take delight in brods ? 

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 mc 
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 ? 

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

E. Hen. 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 ? 

War. Sweet king ! — the bishop hath a kindly 
gird. a - 
For shame, my lord of "Winchester ! relent ; 
What, shall a child 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. 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 ! 

W'hi. So help me God, as I intend it not ! 

[Aside. 

A . Wen. loving uucle, kind duke of Gloster, 
How joyful am I made by this contract ! 
Away, my masters ! trouble us no more ; 
But join m friendship, as your lords have done. 

1 Sen). Content ; I '11 to the surgeon's. 

2 A And so will J. 

3 Serv. Aud I wdl see what physic the tavern 

affords. [Exeunt Servants, Mayor, fyc. 



" A kindly gird— a. reproof meant in kindness. FalstafT 
says,— 

'■ Men of all sorts take a pride to gird at me." 

36 



War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sove- 
reign; 
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. 

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

War. Let Richard be restored to his blood ; 
So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd. 
Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. 
K. Hen. If Richard will be true, not that 
alone, 
But all the whole inheritance I give 
That doth belong unto the house of York, 
From whence you spring by lineal descent. 

Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience, 
And humble service, till the point of death. 
E. Hen. Stoop then, and set your knee against 
my foot : 
And, in reguerclon a of that duty done, 
I girt thee with the valiant sword of York : 
Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet ; 
And rise created princely duke of York. 

Plan. 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 ! 
Son. Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of 
York ! [Aside. 

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 
Amongst his subjects, and his loyal friends ; 
As it disanimates his enemies. 

E. Hen. When Gloster says the word, king 
Henry goes ; 
For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. 
Glo. Your ships already are in readiness. 
[Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but Exeter. 
Ere. 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, 



" Reguerdon— recompence. 



Act III.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II. 



And will at last break out into a flame : 
As fester'd members rot but by degree, 
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, shoidd win all ; 
And Henry, bom at Windsor, should lose all : a 
Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish 
His days may finish ere that hapless time. [Exit. 

SCENE II.— Erance. Before Rouen. 

"Enter La Pucelle disguised, and Soldiers dressed 
like 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. 
If we have entrance, (as I hope we shall,) 
And that we find the slothful watch but weak, 
I '11 by a sign give notice to our friends, 
That Charles the Dauphiu 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 '11 knock. [Knocks. 

Guard. [Within.] Qui est la ? 
Puc. Paisans, pauvres gens de France ; 
Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn. 
Guard. Enter, go in ; the market-bell is rung. 

[Opens the gates. 
Puc. Now, Rouen, I '11 shake thy bulwarks to 
the ground. 

[Pucelle, fyc, enter the city. 

Enter Charles, Bastard of Orleans, Alencon, 
and Forces. 

Char. Saint Dennis bless this happy strata- 
gem! 
And once again we '11 sleep secure in Rouen. 
Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her prac- 
tisants ; 
Now she is there, how will she specify 
Where is the best and 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, for weakness, which she enter'd. 



a The line, as we print it, is found in the second folio. 
The original copy omits should. 



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. 

Bast. See, noble Charles I the beacon of our 
friend, 
The burning torch in yonder turret stands. 

Char. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, 
A 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 certain English. 

Tal. Erance, thou shalt rue this treason with 
thy tears, 
H Talbot but survive thy treachery. 
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress, 
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, 
That hardly we escap'd the pride of Erance. 

[Exeunt to the town. 

Alarum ; Excursions. Enter, from the town, 
Bedford, brought in sick, in a chair, with 
Talbot, Burgundy, and the English Forces. 
Then, enter on the walls, La Pucelle, 
Charles, Bastard, Alencon, and others. 

Puc. Good morrow, gallants ! want ye corn 
for bread ? 
I think the duke of Burgundy will fast, 
Before he '11 buy again at such a rate : 
'T was full of darnel : Do you like the taste ? 
Bur. Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless cour- 
tesan ! 
I 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. 0, let no words, but deeds, revenge this 

treason ! 
Puc. What will you do, good grey-beard ? 
break a lance, 
And run a tilt at death withiu a chair ? 

Tal. Eoul fiend of Erance, and hag of all 
despite, 
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours, 
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, 
And twit with cowardice a man half dead ? 
Damsel, I '11 have a bout with you again, 
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. 

37 



Act III.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II. 



Puc. Are you so hot, sir ? Yet, Pucelle, hold 
thy peace ; 
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. 

[Talbot, and the rest, consult together. 
God speed the parliament ! who shall be the 
speaker ? 
Tal. Dare ve 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, Alencon, and the rest; 
Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out ? 
Alen. Signior, no. 

Tal. Signior, hang! — base muleteers of France! 
Like 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, §c, from 
the walls. 
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,) 
Either to get the town again, or die : 
And I, as sure as English Henry lires, 
And as his father here was conqueror ; 
As sure as in this late-betrayed town 
Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried ; 
So sure I swear, to get the town or die. 

Bur. My vows are equal partners with thy 

vows. 
Tal. But, ere we go, regard this dying 
prince, 
The valiant duke of Bedford : — Come, my 

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

Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour mc : 
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 I 
read, 
That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick, 
Came to the field, and vanquished his foes : 

33 



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, Talbot, and Forces, 
leaving Bedford, and others. 

Alarum : Excursions. Enter Sir John Fas- 
tolfe, and a Captain. 

Cap. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in 

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

Cap. What ! will you fly, and leave lord Tal- 
bot? 
Fast. Ay. 

All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. 

[Exit. 
Cap. Cowardly knight ! ill fortune follow thee ! 

[Exit. 

Retreat: Excursions. Enter, from the town, La 
Pucelle, Alencon, Charles, %-c, and exeunt 
flying. 

Bed. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven 
please ; 
For 1 have seen our enemies' overthrow. 
What is the trust or strength of foolish man ? 
They, that of late were daring with their scoffs, 
Arc glad and fain by flight to save themselves. 
[Dies, and is carried off in his chair. 

Alarum : Enter Talbot, Burgundy, and others. 

Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again ! 
This is a double honour, Burgundy : 
Yet 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 monuments. 

Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pu- 
celle now ? 
I think her old familiar is asleep : 
Now where 's the Bastard's braves, and Charles 

his gleeks ? 
What, all a-mort ? b Rouen hangs her head for grief 



a Yet heavens. Mr. Dycc has suggested Let heavens 
Which Mr. White adopts. 
l> All a-uwrt— dispirited. 



Act III. J 



FIEST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 111. 



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 ; 
Por there young Henry with his nobles lies. 

Bur. What wills lord Talbot pleaseth Bur- 
gundy. 

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



SCENE III.— The same. The Plains near the 
City. 

'Enter Charles, the Bastard, Alencon, 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 ; 
We'll pull his plumes, and take away his 

train, 
If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd. 

Char. 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. 
Alen. We '11 set thy statue in some holy 
place, 
And have thee reverene'd like a blessed saint ; 
Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. 
Puc. Then thus it must be ; this doth Joan 
devise : 
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. For ever should they be expuls'd from 
France, 
And not have title of an earldom here. 

Puc. Your honours shall perceive how I will 
work, 



To bring this matter to the wished end. 

[Drums heard. 
Hark ! by the sound of drum you may per- 
ceive 
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. 

A French March. Enter the Duke op Bur- 
gundy 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 Bur- 
gundy ? 
Puc. The princely Charles of France, thy 

countryman. 
Bur. What say'st thou, Charles ? for I am 

marching 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 defae'd 
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe ! 
As looks the mother on her lowly 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 ! 
0, 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. 

39 



Tl 



Ait III. "J 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCENE IV. 



Puc. Besides, all French and France exclaims 
on thee, 

Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. 

Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly 
nation, 

That will 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 ? 

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 country- 
men, 

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. 
Bur. I am vanquished ; these haughty a words 
of her's 

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 '11 no longer trust thee.'' 
Puc. Done like a Frenchman ; turn, and turn 

again! 
Char. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship 

makes us fresh. 
Bast. And doth beget new courage in our 

breasts. 
A/en. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in 
(his, 

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. 

Enter King Henry, Gloster, and other Lords, 
Vernon, Basset, fyc. To them Talbot, and 
some, of his Officers. 

Tul. My gracious prince, and honourable 
peers, 

* Haughty — lofty— spirited. So, in the next act, — 
" Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage." 
40 



Hearing of your arrival in this realm, 

I have awhile given truce unto my wars, 

To do my duty to my sovereign : 

In sign whereof, this arm, — that hath re- 

claim'd 
To your obedience fifty fortresses, 
Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of 

strength, 
Besides 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 nest unto your grace. 
K. Hen. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Glos- 
ter, 
That hath so long been resident in France ? 
Glo. Yes, if it please your majesty, my 

liege. 
K. Ben. Welcome, brave captain, and vic- 
torious lord ! 
When I was young, (as yet I am not old,) 
I do remember how my father said 
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 de- 
serts, 
We here create you earl of Shrewsbury ; 
And in our coronation take your place. 

{Exeunt King Henry, Gloster, Talbot, 
and Nobles. 

Ver. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at 
sea, 
Disgracing of these colours that I wear 
In honour of my noble lord of York, — 
Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou 
spak'st ? 
Bas. Yes, sir; as well as you dare pa- 
tronage 
The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
Against my lord, the duke of Somerset. 
Ver. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. 
Bas. Wry, what is he? as good a man as 

York. 
Ver. Hark ye ; not so : in witness take ye 
that. [Strikes 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. 



Act III.] 



FIEST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



But I '11 unto his majesty, and crave 
I may have liberty to venge this wrong ; 
When thou shalt see I '11 meet thee to thy 
cost. 



Ver. Well, miscreant, I '11 be there as soon as 
you; 
And, after, meet you sooner than you would. 

[Exeunt. 



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[Parliament of Henry VI. 1 

ILLUSTRATION OP ACT III. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



It is here that Henry is first introduced on the 
scene. The poet has represented him as very 
young: — 

" What, shall a child instruct you what to do 1 " 
He was, in truth, only in his fifth year when the 
contest between Gloster and Beaufort was solemnly 
arbitrated before the parliament at Leicester. But 
the poor child was made to go through the cere- 
monies of royalty even before this. Hall, writing 
of the third year of his reign, says, " About Easter, 
this year, the king called his high court of parlia- 
ment at his town of Westminster: and coming 
to the parliament-house, he was conveyed through 
the city upon a great courser with great triumph : 
which child was judged of all men not only to have 
the very image, the lively portraiture, and lovely 
countenance of his noble parent and famous father, 
but also like to succeed and be his heir in all moral 
virtues, martial policies, and princely feats." 

At the parliament of Leicester Bedford presided, 
and "openly rebuked the lords in general because' 
that they, in the time of war, through their privy 
malice and inward grudge, had almost moved the 
people to war and commotion." This rebuke the 
poet has put into the mouth of Henry :— 

" Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell, 
Civil dissension is a viperous worm, 
'ili.it gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth." 

The creation of Richard Plantagenet as Duke of 
York has been dramatically introduced by the poet 
into the same scene. The honours bestowed upon 
Plantagenet immediately followed the hollow re- 
conciliation between Gloster and Beaufort. 
^ The second scene brings us again to France. 
The stratagem by which Joan of Are is here repre- 
eented to have taken Rouen is found in Holinshed 
42 



asanarrativeof the mode in which Evreux was taken 
in 1442. The scene of Bedford dying in the field 
is purely imaginary. The chronicler simply records 
his death in 1435, and that his " body was with all 
funeral solemnity buried in the cathedral church of 
our lady in Rone, on the north side of the high 
altar, under a sumptuous and costly monument/' 
The defection of the Duke of Burgundy from 
the English cause did not take place till 1434, and 
it was in that year that he wrote the letter to 
Henry to which Gloster alludes in the first scene 
of the fourth act. The English chroniclers are 
totally silent as to any influence exercised, or 
attempted to be exercised, by Joan of Arc, in the 
separation of Burgundy from the interests of 
England. The actual event, of course, took place 
after Joan's death ; yet it is most remarkable that 
the spirited dialogue between La Pucelle and 
Burgundy, in this act, is wholly borne out by the 
circumstance that the Maid, on the very clay of the 
coronation of Charles at Rheims, in 1429, addressed 
a letter to the Duke of Burgundy, in which she 
uses arguments not at all unlike those of this scene 
of the play. The letter is published by Barante. 
(' Histoire des Dues de Bourgogne,' torn. iv. page 
259.) The original is in the archives of Lille- 
and Barante says it was first published in 17So' 
We can scarcely avoid thinking that the author of 
this play had access to some French chronicler, by 
whom the substance of the letter was given. We 
transcribe the original from Barante; for the 
characteristic simplicity of the style would be lost 
in a translation : — 

" Jhesus Maria. 
" Haut et redoute" prince, due de Bourgogne Je- 
hanne la Pucelle vous requiert, de par le roi du ciel 
mon droiturier souverain seigneur, que le roi de 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 







[Philip the Good, Duke of Hurgundy.] 



France et vous fassiez bonne paix, ferme, qui dure 
longuement. Pardounez 1'un a l'autre de bon coeur, 
eutierement, aiusi que doivent faire loyaux Chre- 
tiens ; et s'il vous plait guerroyer, allez sur le 
Sarrasin. Prince de Bourgogne, je vous prie, 
supplie, et requiers tant humblement que je vous 
puis reque"rir, que ne guerroyiez plus au saint 
royaume de France, et faites retraire incontinent 
et brievement vos gens qui sont en aucunes places 
et forteresses du dit royaume. De la part du 
gentil roi de France, il est pret de fairo paix avec 
vous, sauf son honneur ; et il ne tient qu'b, vous. 
Et je vous fais savoir, de par le roi du ciel, mon 
droiturier et souverain seigneur, pour votre bien et 
pour votre honneur, que vous ne gaguerez point 
de bataille contre les loyaux Francais ; et que tous 
ceux qui guerroyent au dit saint royaume de France 
guerroyeut contre le roi Jhesus, roi du ciel et de 



tout le monde, mon droiturier et souverain sei- 
gneur. Et vous prie et vous requiers a jointes 
mains que ne fassiez nulle bataille, ni ne guerroyiez 
contre nous, vous, vos gens, et vos sujets. Croyez 
surement, quelque nombre de gens que vous 
ameuiez contre nous, qu'ils n'y gagneront mie ; 
et sera grand pitie" de la grand bataille et du sang 
qui sera rdpandu de ceux qui y viendront contre 
nous. II y a trois semaiues que je vous ai dcrit 
et envoyez de bonnes lettres par un hdraut pour 
que vous fussiez au sacre du roi qui, aujourd'hui 
dimanche, dix-septieme jour de ce present moi3 de 
juillet, se fait en la cite" de Reims. Je n'en ai 
pas eu reponse, ni one depuis n'a ou'i nouvelles du 
he'raut. A Dieu vous l-ecommande et soit garde de 
vous, s'il lui plait, et prie Dieu qu'il y mette bonne 
paix. Ecrit au dit lieu de Reims, le 17 juillet." 













"^Sm^S^j 




^mi> 



^§^mm 







[View of Bourdeaux — present state.] 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I.— Paris. A Roam of State. 

tinier King Henry, Gloster, Exeter, York, 
Suffolk, Somerset, Winchester, Warwick, 
Talbot, the Governor of Paris, and others. 

Glo. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his 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 a 
Malicious practices against his state : 
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God ! 

[Exeunt Gov. and his Train. 

Enter Sir John Eastolfe. 

Fast. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from 

Calais, 
To haste unto your coronal ion, 

» Pretend— intend. 
44 



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, 
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, 
Like 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. 

Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous 



Act IV. ] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene I. 



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. 
He then that is not furnish' 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. 
K. Hen. 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, lord protector, view the letter 
Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy. 

Glo. What means his grace, that he hath 

chang'd his style ? 

[Viewing the superscription. 
No more but, plain and bluntly, — 'To the king?' 
Hath he forgot he is his sovereign ? 
Or doth this churlish superscription 
Pretend some alteration in good will? 11 
What 's here ? — ' I have, upon especial cause,— 

[Reads. 
Mov'd with compassion of my country's wrack, 
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.' 

monstrous treachery ! Can this be so ; 
That in alliance, amity, and oaths, 

There should be found such false dissembling 
guile ? 
K. Hen. What ! doth my uncle Burgundy re- 
volt? 
Glo. He doth, my lord; and is become your foe. 
K. Hen. Is that the worst this letter doth con- 
tain? 
Glo. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. 
K. Hen. 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 ? 
Tal. Content, my liege ? Yes ; but that I am 
prevented, 

1 should have begg'd I might have been employ'd. 

a Pretend. Mr. Dyce states tliat pretend was used in the 
sense of portend by Skelton. 



K. Hen. Then gather strength, and march 
unto him straight : 
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 Veknon and Basset. 

Ver. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign ! 
Bus. And me, my lord, grant me the combat 

too! 
York. This is my servant : Hear him, noble 

prince ! 
Som. And this is mine : Sweet Henry, favour 

him ! 
K. Hen. Be patient, lords, and give them 
leave to speak. — 
Say, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim ? 
And wherefore crave you combat ? or with 
whom? 
Ver. With him, my lord; for he hath done me 

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

wrong. 
K. Hen. What is that wrong whereof you 
both complain ? 
First let me know, and then I '11 answer you. 
Bas. Crossing the sea from England into 
France, . 
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 repugn a the truth, 
About a certain question in the law, 
Argued betwixt the duke of York and him ; 
With other vile and ignominious terms : 
In confutation of which rude reproach, 
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. 
K. Hen. Good Lord ! what madness rules in 
brain-sick men ; 
When, for so slight and frivolous a cause, 



Repugn — resist. 



4o 



ACT IV.] 



FIKST PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[ScENi. II. 



Such factious emulations shall arise : 
Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, 
Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. 

York. Let this dissention 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, Somerset. 

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

Bus. Confirm it. so, mine honourable lord. 

Glo. Confirm it so ? 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 ? 
And you, my lords, — methinks you do not well, 
To bear with their perverse objections ; 
Much less to take occasion from their mouths 
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves ; 
Let me persuade you, take a better course. 

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

A*. Ben. Come hither, you that would be com- 
batants : 
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 dissensiou in our looks, 
And that within ourselves we disagree, 
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd 
To wilful disobedience, and rebel ? 
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 ! 
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 arc 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 your grace 
To be our regent in these parts of France : 

46 



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. 
Ourself, 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, Alencon, and that traitorous rout. 
[Flourish. Exeunt King Henry, Glo., 
Son., Win., Suf., and Basset. 

War. My lord of York,- 1 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. And, if I wist he did,— 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, 
Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd. 
But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees 
This jarring discord of nobility, 
This should'ring of each other in the court, 
This factious bandying of their favourites, 
But that it doth presage some ill event. 
'T is much, when sceptres are in children's hands : 
But more, when envy breeds unkind division ; 
There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. 

[Exit. 

SCENE II.— France. Before Bourdcaux. 

Enter Talbot with his Forces. 

Tal. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter : 
Summon their general unto the wall. 

Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, on the walls, 
the General of the French Forces, and others. 

English John Talbot, captains, calls yon 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 '11 withdraw me and my bloody power : 
But, if you frown upon this proffer 'd peace, 
You tempt the fury of my three attendants, 
Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fn't ; 



Act IV.] 



FIEST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene III. 



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

Gen. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, 
Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge ! 
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 
Upou no Christian soul but English Talbot. 
Lo ! there thou stand'st, a breathing vabant man, 
Of au invincible uncouquer'd spirit : 
This is the latest glory of thy praise, 
That I, thy enemy, due b thee withal ; 
For ere the glass that now begins to run 
Finish the process of his sandy hour, 
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, Sfc.,from the walls. 
Tal. He fables not, I hear the enemy ; — 
Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their 

wings. — 
0, negligent and heedless discipline ! 
How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale ; 
A little herd of England's timorous deer, 
Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs ! 
If we be English deer, be then in blood : c 
Not rascal-like, d 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 Saint George ! Talbot, and England's 

right ! 
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight ! 

[Exeunt. 

a The original has their love; Hanmer suggested our 
lore, which we follow Mi - . White in adopting. 

b Due— pay as due. 

c In blood — a term of the forest. 

d Rascal-like. Rascal was also a term of wood-craft for 
a lean deer. 



SCENE III. — Flams in Gascony. 

Enter Yokk, 101th 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 Bourdeaux witli 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 Bourdeaux. 

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 a 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, 
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 Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, 

York! 
Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's 

honour. 
York. 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, makes me weep, 
That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep. 
Lucy. 0, send some succour to the distress'd 

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 Tal- 
bot's soul ! 
And on his son, young John ; whom, two hours 

since, 
I met in travel toward his warlike father ! 



a Lowlcd — Malone explains this, I am treated with con- 
tempt like a lowt. 

47 



ACT IV J 



FIRST PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scenes IV., V. 



This seven years did not Talbot see bis son ; 
And now tbey meet where botb tbeir lives are 
done. 

Fork. Alas ! what joy sball noble Talbot have, 
To bid bis young son welcome to bis grave ? 
Away ! vexation almost stops my breath, 
That sunder'd friends greet in tbe bour of deatb. 
Lucy, farewell : no more my fortune can, 
But curse tbe cause I cannot aid tbe man. 
Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won 

away, 
'Long all of Somerset, and his delay. [Exit. 

Lucy. Thus while the vulture of sedition 
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, 
Sleeping neglection dotb betray to loss 
Tbe conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, 
That ever-Hving man of memory, 
Henry tbe fifth : — Whiles tbey each other cross, 
Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. 

[Exit. 

SCENE IN.— Other Tlains of Gascony. 

Enter Somerset, with his Forces ; an Officer of 
Talbot's toith him. 

Som. It is too late ; I cannot send them now : 
Ibis 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 over-daring Talbot 
Hath sullied all bis gloss of former honour, 
By this unbeedful, desperate, wild adventure : 
York set him on to fight, and die in shame, 
That, 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 ? 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 ling'ring, 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 be, renowned noble gentleman, 
48 



Yields up bis life unto a world of odds : 
Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy, 
Aleucon, Keignier, compass him about, 
And Talbot perisheth by your default. 

Som. York set hnn on, York should have sent 

him aid. 
Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace ex- 
claims ; 
Swearing that you withhold his levied horse, a 
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. Tbe 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 horse- 
men straight : 
Within six hours tbey 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 woidd 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 Y.—The English Camp near Bonr- 
deaux. 

Enter Talbot and John his Son. 

Tal. O young John Talbot! I did send for 

thee, 
To tutor thee in stratagems of war ; 
That Talbot's name, might be in thee revived, 
When sapless age, and weak unable limbs, 
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. 
But, — O malignant and ill-boding stars ! — 
Now thou art come unto a feast of death, 
A terrible and unavoided danger : 
Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest 

horse ; 
And I '11 direct thee how thou shalt 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. 

» Horse. The original reads hoasl. The correction was 
llanmer's, ati'd is fully borne out by what follows. 



Act IV.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene VI 



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 rne stay; and, father, do 
you fly : 
Your loss is great, so yonr regard 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 bow, they '11 say it was for fear. 
There is no hope that ever I will stay, 
If the first hour I shrink, and run away. 
Here, on my knee, 1 beg mortality, 
Rather than life preserv'd with infamy. 

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

tomb ? 
John. Ay, rather than I '11 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, 
Thau 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, fair 
son, 
Bora to eclipse thy life this afternoon. 
Come, side by side together live and die ; 
And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. 

\Exeunt. 

SCENE VI.— A Field of Baltic. 

Alarum ; Excursions, wherein Talbot's Son is 
hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him. 

Tal. Saint George and victory ! fight, soldiers, 



fight : 
Histories. — Voi. II. 



E 



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

breath ; 
I gave 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. 
Tal. 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 Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy, 
And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. 
The 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, 
Bespoke him thus : c Contaminated, base, 
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine, 
Mean and right poor; for that pure blood of 

mine, 
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave 

boy:'- 
Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, 
Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care ; 
Art thou not weary, John ? How didst thou 

fare? 
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, 
Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry ? 
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, 
5 T is but the short'ning 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 : 

49 



AcrlV.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene VI I. 



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 : 

Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot ; 

If son to Talbot, 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. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE Nil.— -Another Part of the same. 

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

Tut. "Where is my other life? — mine own is 

gone ;— 
0, 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, 
Tend'ring my ruin, and assail'd of none, 
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart, 
Suddenly made him from my side to start 
Into the clust'ring battle of the French : 
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench 
His over mounting spirit ; and there died 
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. 

Enter Soldiers, hearing the body of John Talbot. 

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

borne ! 
Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here 
to scorn, 

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, 

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, 

Two Talbot s, winged through the lither sky, 

In thy despite shall 'scape mortality. 

O thou 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. 
50 



Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms ; 
My spirit can no longer bear these harms. 
Soldiers, adieu ! I have what I would have, 
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's 
grave. [Dies. 

Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servant, leaving 
the two bodies. Enter Charles, Alencon, 
Burgundy, 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, a 
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, 
He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. 

Pur. Doubtless he would have made a noble 
knight : 
See, where he lies inhersed in the arms 
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms. 

Past. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones 
asunder ; 
Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. 
Char. O, no ; forbear : for that which we have 
fled 
During the life, let us not wrong it dead. 

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 pri- 
son is. 
But tell me whom thou seek'st. . 

Lucy. But where 's b the great Alcides of the 
field, 
Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury ? 

a Rnging wood — rapine; mad. 

b But wherc's.— So the original. The ordinary reading is, 
" Where is." It appears to us that Lucy utters an exclama- 
tion of surprise when he does not see Talbot, supposing him 
to be prisoner. 



Act IV.] 



FIEST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene VII. 



Created, for his rare success in arms, 

Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence ; 

Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urclrinfield, 

Lord Strange of Blackmere, lord Verdun of Alton, 

Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of 

Sheffield, 
The thrice-v\/!torious lord of Falconbridge ; 
Knight of the noble order of Saint George, 
Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece ; 
Great mareshal 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. 
Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles, 
Stinking, and fly-blown, lies here at our feet. 

Lucy. Is Talbot slain ? the Frenchmen's only 
scourge, 
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis ? 
O, were mine eye-balls 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 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 '11 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 Faris, in this conquering vein ; 
All will be ours, now bloody Talbot 's slain. 

[Exeunt. 




[Scene V. Camp ne.ir Bourtleaus.J 



E 2 



KTJ 



H^cfU # t>[ b!i: i » o I), a o o o o o r. o l\0 

Hi. ■ n». ■ 



'I I'll 



o •» o 




[Henry VI. and Court. John Talbot receiving a Sword.] 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT IV. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



The coronation of Henry VI. in Paris took place 
as early as 1431. In the scene of the play where 
this event is represented, Talbot receives a com- 
mission to proceed against Burgundy ; and the re- 
mainder of the fourth act is occupied with the 
events of the campaign in which Talbot fell. 
Twenty years, or more, are leapt over by the poet, 
for the purpose of showing, amidst the disasters 
of our countrymen in France, the heroism by 
which the struggle for empire was so long main- 
tained. We have already alluded to the detailed 
narrative which Hall gives of Talbot's death, aud 
the brief notice of Holinshed. The account of 
the elder historian is very graphic, and no doubt 
furnished the materials for the fifth, sixth, and 
seventh scenes of this act :— 

" This conflict continued in doubtful judgement 
of victory two long hours ; during which fight the 
lord3 of Moutamban and Humadayre, with a great 
52 



company of Frenchmen, entered the battle, and 
began a new field ; and suddenly the gunners, per- 
ceiving the Englishmen to approach near, dis- 
charged their ordinance, and slew three hundred 
persons near to the earl, who, perceiving the immi- 
nent jeopardy and subtile labyrinth in the which he 
and his people were inclosed and illaqueate, despis- 
ing his own safeguard, and desiring the life of 
his entirely and well beloved son the Lord Lisle, 
willed, advertised, and counselled him to depart 
out of the field, and to save himself. But when the 
son had answered that it was neither honest nor 
natural for him to leave his father in the extreme 
jeopardy of his life, and that he would taste of 
that draught which his father and parent should 
assay and begin, the noble earl and comfortable 
captain said to him, Oh, son, son ! I, thy father 
which only hath been the terror and scourge of the 
French people so many years, — which hath sub- 



FIRST PAET 01' KINO HENRY VI. 



verted so inany towns, and profligate and discom- 
fited so many of them in open battle and martial 
conflict, — neither can here die, for the honour of 
my country, -without great laud and perpetual 
fame, nor fly or depart without perpetual shame 
and continual infamy. But because this is thy 
first journey and enterprise, neither thy flying shall 
redound to thy shame, nor thy death to thy glory : 
for as hai'dy a man wisely flieth as a temerarious 
person foolishly abideth, therefore the fleeing of 
me shall be the dishonor, not only of me and my 
progeny, but also a discomfiture of all my com- 
pany : thy departure shall save thy life, and make 
thee atle another time, if I be slain, to revenge my 
death, and to do honor to thy prince and profit to 
his realm. But nature so wrought in the son, that 
neither desire of life, nor thought of security, 
could withdraw or pluck him from his natural 
father ; who, considering the constancy of his 
child, and the great danger that they stood in, 
comforted his soldiers, cheered his captains, and 
valiantly set on his enemies, and slew of them more 
in number than he had in his company. But his 
enemies, having a great company of men, and more 



abundance of ordinance than before had been seen 
in a battle, first shot him through the thigh with 
ahand-gun, and slew his horse, and cowardly killed 
him, lying on the ground, whom they never durst 
look in the face while he stood on his feet : 
and with him there died manfully his son the 
Lord Lisle, his bastard son Henry Talbot, and 
Sir Edward Hull, elect to the noble Order of 
the Garter, and thirty valiant personages of 
the English nation ; and the Lord Molyus was 
there taken prisoner with sixty other. The re- 
sidue of the English people fled to Burdeaux 
and other places ; whereof in the flight were slain 
above a thousand persons. At this battle of Chas- 
tillon, fought the 13th day of July, in this year, 
ended his life, John Lord Talbot, and of his pro- 
geny the first Earl of Shrewsbury, after that he 
with much fame, more glory, and most victory, 
had for his prince and country, by the space of 
twenty-four years and more, valiantly made war 
and served the king in the parts beyond the sea, 
whose corps was left on the ground, and after was 
found by his friends, and conveyed to Whitchurch 
in Shropshire, where it is intumulate." 




! Effigy upon the Tomb of John Talbot.] 




[Scene V.] 



ACT V. 



SCENE I. — London. A Boom in the Palace. 

Enter Kino Henry, Gloster, and Exeter. 

K. Hen. 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 Prance. 
K. Hen. 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. 

K. Hen. 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. 

a Immunity — barbarity. 

54 



Glo. Beside, my lord,— the sooner to cifect, 
And surer bind, this knot of amity, — 
The earl of Armagnac— near knit to Charles, 
A man of great authority in Erance, — 
Proffers his only daughter to your grace 
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. 

K. Hen. Marriage, uncle ! alas ! my years are 
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 shall be well content with any choice 
Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal. 

Tmter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, with 
Winchester, in a Cardinal's habit. 

L'.iv. What! is my lord of Winchester iu 
stall'd, 
And call'd unto a cardinal's degree ? 
Then, I perceive that will be verified, 
Henry the fifth did sometime prophesy,— 



Act V.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scenes II., Ill 



' If once he come to be a cardinal, 
He '11 make his cap co-equal with the crown.' 
K. Hen. 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 Prance. 

Glo. And for the proffer of my lord your m&s- 
ter, — 
I 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. 
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which con- 
tract, 
Bear her this jewel, [to the Amb.] pledge of my 

affection. 
And 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 ; Gloster, 

Exeter, and Ambassadors. 
Win. Stay, my lord legate ; you shall first re- 
ceive 
The sum of money, which I promised 
Should be 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 submit, I trow, 
Or be inferior to the proudest peer. 
Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt 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. 

SCENE II. — Erance. Plains in Anjou. 

Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alencon, La 
Pucelle, and Forces, marching. 

Char. These news, my lords, may cheer our 
drooping spirits : 
'T is said the stout Parisians do revolt, 
And turn again unto the warlike French . 
Alen. Then march to Paris, royal Charles 
of Erance, 
And keep not back your powers in dalliance. 

Puc. Peace be amongst them if cey turn to us ; 
Else, ruin combat with their palaces ! 

Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. Success unto our valiaut general, 
A.ud happiness to his accomplices ! 



Char. What tidings send our scouts ? I prithee, 

speak. 
Mess. 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 warn- 
ing is ; 
But we will presently provide for them. 

Pur. 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 ac- 
ciirs'd : — 
Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine ; 
Let Henry fret, and all the world repine. 

Char. Then on, my lords ; and Prance be for- 
tunate ! [Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— The same. Be/ore Angiers. 

Alarums : Excursions. Enter La Pucelle. 

Puc. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen 
fly. 
Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts ; a 
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 legions under earth, 
Help me this once, that France may get the field. 

[They walk about and speak not. 
O, hold me not with silence over-long ! 
Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, 
I'll lop a member off, and give it you, 
In earnest of a further benefit ; 
So you do condescend to help me now. — 

[They hang their heads. 
No hope to have redress ? — My body shall 
Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit. 

[They shake their heads. 
Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, 
Entreat you to your wonted furtherance ? 
Then take my soul ; my body, soul, and all, 



a Periapts— amulets— charms. Cotgrave explains^ the 
words, " medicines hanged about any part of the body." 

b " The monarch of the North," says Douce, "was Zinii- 
mar, one of the four principal devils invoked by witches. 
The others were, Amaimon king of the East, Gorsor. king 
of the South, and Goap king of the West. Under these 
devil kings were devil marquesses, dukes, prelates, knights, 
presidents, and earls. 

c Legions. The original has regions. The change to legions 
wag made by Warburton, and we follow Mr. Dyce in adopt- 
ing it. 

55 



Act V.] 



FIKST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 111. 



Before that England give the French the foil. 

[They depart. 
See ! they forsake me. Now the time is come 
That France must vail 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, fighting. 
La Pucelle* and York fight hand to hand. 
La Pucelle 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 brows, 
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape. 
Puc. Chaug'd to a worser shape thou canst 

not be. 
York. 0, 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 ! 
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 prithee, give me leave to curse a 

while. 
York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to 
the stake. [Exeunt. 

Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady 
Margaret. 

Sufi. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. 

[Gazes on her. 
O fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly ; 
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands. b 



o- The old stage direction is, " Burgundy and York fight 
hand to hand." 

b We print these lines as they stand in the original. 
Some modern editors, however, give tliein thus: — 

" For I will touch thee but with reverent hands, 
And lay them gently on thy tender side. 
I kiss these fingers for eternal peace." 
Malone says that by the original reading " Suffolk is made 
to kiss his own fingers, a symbol of peace of which there is, I 
believe, no example." We do not see this. Suffolk says, — 
" Do not fear, nor fly ; 
For I will touch thee hut with reverent hands." 
lie then adds, kissing the lady's fingers, — 

" I kiss these fingers for eternal peace, 
And lay them gently on thy tender side," — 
accompanying the words by a corresponding action. He 
takes the lady's hand, but, instead of seizing it as the hand 
of a prisoner, he replaces it, having kissed it, on her tender 
side. 

56 



I kiss these fingers [kissing her hand] for eternal 

peace, 
And lay them gently on thy tender side. 
Who art thou ? say, that I may honour thee. 

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a 
king, 
The king of Naples ; whosoe'er thou art. 

Suf. 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 prisoner underneath her wings. 
Yet if this servile usage once offend, 
Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend. 

[She turns away as going. 
0, 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. 
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak : 
I '11 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 ? 
Ay ; beauty's princely majesty is such, 
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses 
rough. a 

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. 

Suf. How canst thou tell, she will deny thy 
suit, 
Before thou make a trial of her love ? [Aside. 

Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransom 
must I pay ? 

Suf. She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo' d : 
She is a woman; therefore to be won. [Aside. 

Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea, or no ? 

Suf. Fond man! remember that thou hast a 
wife ; 
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour ? 

[Aside. 

Mar. I were best to leave him, for he will not 
hear. 

Suf. There all is marr'd ; there lies a cooling 
card. 

Mar. He talks at random ; sure, the man is mad. 

Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had. 

Mar. Andyetlwouldthatyouwouldanswerme. 

Suf. I '11 win this lady Margaret. For whom ? 
Why, for my king : Tush ! that 's a wooden thing. 

Mar. He talks of wood : it is some carpenter. 

» Rough— so the folio. Ilamner reads crouch. 



Act V.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SOENE III. 



S/if Yet so my fancy a 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. [Aside. 
Mar. Hear ye, captain? Are you not at 

leisure ? 
Suf 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. What though I be enthrall'd ? he seems 
a knight, 
And will not any way dishonour me. [Aside. 
Sttf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. 
Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescued by the 
French ; 
And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside. 
Suf Sweet madam, give me hearing iu a 

cause — 
Mar. Tush ! women have been captivate ere 
now. [Aside. 

Suf Lady, wherefore talk you so ? 
Mar. I cry you mercy, 't is but quid for quo. 
Suf. Say, gentle princess, would you not sup- 
pose 
Your bondage happy, to be made a queen ? 

Mar. To be a queen in bondage is more vile 
Than is a slave in base servility ; 
For princes should be free. 

Suf And so sball you, 

If happy England's royal king be free. 

Mar. Why, what concerns his freedom unto 

me? 
Suf 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?; 

Suf His love. 

Mar. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. 
Suf "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. 
Suf Then call our captains, and our colours, 
forth : 
And, madam, at your father's castle walls 
We '11 crave a parley, to confer with him. 

[Troops come forward '. 

A Parley sounded. Enter Reigniek, on the 
walls. 

a Fancy— love. 



Suf See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner. 

Reig. To whom ? 

Suf To me. 

Reig. Suffolk, what remedy ? 

I am a soldier ; and unapt to weep, 
Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. 

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord : 
Consent, (and for thy honour, give consent,) 
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king ; 
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto ; 
And this her easy- held imprisonment 
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty. 

Reig. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks ? 

Suf Fair Margaret knows 

That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign. 

Reig. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend, 
To give thee answer of thy just demand. 

[Exit from the walls. 

Suf And here I will expect thy coming. 

Trumpets sounded. Enter Reigniek, heloio. 

Reig. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories ; 
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. 

Suf. 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 ; 
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. 

Suf. 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. 

Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly 
thanks, 
Because this is in traffic of a king : 
And yet, methinks, 1 could be well content 
To be mine own attorney in this case. [Aside. 
I '11 over then to England with this news, 
And make this marriage to be solemniz'd ; 
So, farewell, Reignier J 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. 

57 



Act V.] 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



Suf. Farewell, sweet madam ! But bark you, 
Margaret, 
No princely commendations to my king ? 

Mar. Such commendations as become a maid, 
A virgin, and his servant, say to him. 

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, 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. 
Suf. And this withal. [Kisses her. 

Mar. That for thyself ; I will not so presume, 
To send such peevish tokens to a king. 

[Exeunt Reignier, and Margaret. 
Suf. 0, 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 wond'rous praise : 
Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount ; 
And a 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. 

[Exit. 

SCENE IV.— Camp of the Luke of York, in 
Anjou. 

Enter York, Warwick, and others. 

York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd 
to burn. 

Enter La Pucelle, guarded, and a Shepherd. 

Shep. Ah, Joan ! this kills thy father's heart 
outright ! 
Have I sought every country far and near, 
And, now it is my chance to find thee out, 
Must I behold thy timeless cruel death ? 
Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with 
thee ! 
Puc. Decrepit miser ! b base ignoble wretch I 
I am descended of a gentler blood ; 
Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine. 
Shep. Out, out ! — My lords, an please you, 
't is not so ; 
I 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 pa- 
rentage ? 

n And. The original has Mad, which Steevens thought 
was used in the sense of wild. Monck Mason made the 
correction to And. 

l> Miser— wretch, miserable creature. 
58 



Fork. 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 ! a 
God knows thou art a collop of my flesh ; 
And for thy sake have I shed many a tear : 
Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan. 

Puc. Peasant, avaunt! — You have suborn'd 
this man, 
Of purpose to obscure my noble birth. 

Shep. 'T is true, I gave a noble to the priest, 
The mom 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 ? 
0, burn her, burn her ; hanging is too good. 

[Exit. 

Fork. Take her away ; for she hath liv'd too 
long, 
To fill the world with vicious quahties. 

Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have 
condemn'd : 
Not me begotten of a shepherd swain, 
But issued from the progeny of kings ; 
Virtuous, and holy ; chosen from above, 
By insphation 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, 
Stain'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. 

Fork. Ay, ay ; — away with her to execution. 

War. And bark ye, sks; because she is a 
maid, 
Spare for no fagots, let there be enow ; 
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, 
That so her torture may be shortened. 

Puc. Will nothing turn your unrelenting 
hearts ? 

a Obstacle— obstinate. In Chapman's « May-Day' nve 
have — 

"An obstacle young thing it is." 



Act V.] 



FIEST PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



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 ? 
War. The greatest miracle that e'er ye 
wrought : 
Is all yoiu* strict preciseness come to this ? 
York. She and the Dauphin have been jug- 
gling : 
I did imagine what would be her refuge. 

War. Well, go to ; we will have no bastards 
live; 
Especially since Charles must father it. 
Puc. You are deceiv'd; my child is none of 
his ; 
It was Alencon that enjoyed my love. 

York. Alencon ! that notorious Machiavel ! 
It dies, an if it had a thousand lives. 

Puc. O, give me leave, I have deluded you ; 
'T was neither Charles nor yet the duke I nam'd, 
But Eeignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd. 
War. A married man ! that 's most intolerable. 
York. Why, here 's a girl ! I think she knows 
not well, 
There were so many, whom she may accuse. 
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. 

Puc. Then lead me hence ; — with whom I 
leave my curse : 
May never glorious sun reflex his beams 
Upon the country where you make abode ! 
But darkness and the gloomy shade of death 
Environ you ; till mischief, and despair, 
Drive you to break your necks, or hang your- 
selves ! [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 commision 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 ? 
After the slaughter of so many peers, 



So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, 
That in this quarrel have been overthrown, 
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, 
Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace ? 
Have we not lost most part of all the towns, 
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, 
Our great progenitors had conquered ? 
0, 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 cove- 
nants 
As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. 

Enter Charles, attended ; Alencon, Bastard, 
Eeignier, 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 choler 
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. 

Alen. Must he be then as shadow of himself ? 
Adorn his temples with a coronet ; 
And yet, in substance and authority, 
Eetain but privilege of a private man ? 
This proffer is absurd and reasonless. 

Char. 'Tis known already that lam possess'd 
With more than half the Gallian territories, 
And therein reverenc'd 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 '11 rather keep 
That which I have, than, coveting for more, 
Be cast from possibility of all. 

York. Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret 
means 
Used intercession to obtain a league ; 

a Prison'd — the original lias poison'd. Pope made tlio 
correction. 

59 



Act V.] 



FIRST PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCEKE V. 



And, now the matter grows co compromise, 
Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison ? 
Either accept the title thou usurp'st. 
Of benefit proceeding from our king, 
And not of any challenge of desert, 
Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. 

Keiff. 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. 

Alen. 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 : 
And therefore take this compact of a truce, 
Although, you break it when your pleasure 
serves. [Aside, to Charles. 

War. How say'st thou, Charles ? shall our 
condition stand ? 

Char. It shall : 
Only reserv'd, you claim no interest 
In 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 Eng- 
land. — 
[Charles, and the rest, yice 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. [Exeunt. 

SCENE V. — London. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter King Henry, in conference with Suffolk; 
Gloster and ~Exetek. following. 

K. Hen. Your wond'rous rare description, 
noble 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 of tempestuous gusts 
Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide, 
So am I driven, by breath of her renown, 
Either to suffer shipwrack, or arrive 
Where I may have fruition of her love. 

Suf. 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, 

60 



I She is content to be at your command ; 
i Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents, 
To love and honour Henry as her lord. 

A". Hen. And otherwise will Henry ne'er pre- 
sume. 
Therefore, my lord protector, give consent 
That Margaret may be England's royal queen. 

Glo. So should I give consent to flatter sin. 
You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd 
Unto another lady of esteem ; 
How shall we then dispense with that contract, 
And not deface your honour with reproach ? 

S/f. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths ; 
Or one that at a triumph 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 mort 
than that ? 
Her father is no better than an earl, 
Although in glorious titles he excel. 

Suf. Yes, my lord, her father is a king, 
The king of Naples and Jerusalem ; 
And of such great authority in Erance 
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 cloth warrant a liberal 
dower, 
Where Reignier sooner will receive than give. 

Suf. 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. 
Henry is able to enrich his queen, 
And not to seek a queen to make him rich : 
So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, 
As market-meu 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, 
It 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 forth bliss, 
And is a pattern of celestial peace. 
Whom should we matcb with Henry, being a 

king, 
But Margaret, that is daughter to a king ? 
Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, 



AcrV.] 



FIEST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene V. 



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 

As 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. 
K. Hen. 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, 
Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear, 
As I am sick with working of my thoughts. 
Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, fo 

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 a 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, 

I may revolve and ruminate my grief. [Exit. 

Glo. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. 
[Exeunt Gloster and Exeter. 

Suf. 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. 

[Exit 

••> Censure — judge. 



*«€?- 




l '^^^te 













■Hi 



[Angiers.] 



N.. 




i iill 

■■ 
■ 



[Old Monument of Joan of Arc, Rouen.] 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT V. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



The circumstances which attended the capture 
i'f Joan of Arc are differently told by the French 
chroniclei-s. They all agree, however, that the 
event happened at Compeigne. The narrative 
which we find in the first edition of Holinshed is 
almost entirely taken from that of Hall. In the 
second edition we have an abstract of the details 
of the ' Cbrouiques de Bretagne.' The poet has 
departed from tbe literal exactness of all the 
accounts. We give the passage from Holinshed : — 

" After this the Duke of Bourgoyne, accom- 
panied with the Earls of Arundel and Suffolk, and 
the Lord John of Lutzenburg, besieged the town 
of Compeigne with a great puissance. This town 
was well walled, manned, and victualled, so that 
the besiegers were constrained to cast trenches, 
and make mines, for otherwise they saw not how 
to compass their purpose. In the mean time it 
happened, iu the night of the Ascension of our 
Lord (a. 1430), that Poyton de Saintreyles, Joan 
la Pucelle, and five or sis hundred men of arms, 
issued out by the bridge toward Moudedier, in- 
tending to set fire in tbe tents and lodgings of the 
Lord Bawdo de Noyelle. At the same very time, 
62 



Sir John de Lutzenburg, with eight other gentle- 
men, chanced to be near unto the lodgings of the 
said Lord Bawdo, where they espied the French- 
men, which began to cut down tents, overthrow 
pavilions, and kill men in their beds ; whereupon 
they with all speed assembled a great number of 
men, as well English as Burgoynions, and coura- 
geously set on the Frenchmen, and iu the end beat 
them back into the town, so that they fled so fast 
that one letted another, as they would have en- 
tered. In the chase and pursuit was the Pucelle 
taken with divers other, besides those that were 
slain, which were no small number." 

The mode in which the author of this play has 
chosen to delineate the character of Joan of Arc, 
in the last act, has been held to be a proof that 
Shakspere was not the author. It will be our duty 
to treat this subject at length in another place ; 
but we would here observe that, however the dra- 
matist may have represented this extraordinary 
woman as a sorceress, and made her accuse herself 
of licentious conduct, he has fallen vei-y far short 
of the injustice of the English chroniclers, who, no 
doubt, represented the traditionary opinions of the 



FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



English nation. Upon her first appearance at Or- 
leans she was denounced by Bedford in his letter 
to the king of 'France as "a devilish witch and sa- 
tauical enchantress." After the cruel revenge 
which the English took iqjon their captive, a letter 
was written in the name of Henry to the Duke of 
Burgundy, setting forth and defending the pro- 
ceedings which had taken place at Rouen. The 
conclusion of this letter marks the spirit of the 
age ; and Hall, writing more than a century after- 
wards, affirms that the letter is quite sufficient 
evidence that Joan was an organ of the devil : 
" And because she still was obstinate in her tres- 
passes and villainous offences," says the letter of 
Henry, "she was delivered to the secular power, the 
which condemned her to be burnt and consumed 
her in the fire. And when she saw that the fatal 
day of her obstinacy was come, she openly con- 
fessed that the spirits which to her often did 
appear were evil and false, and apparent liars ; and 
that their promise which they had made to de- 
liver her out of captivity was false and untrue, 
affirming herself by those spirits to be often be- 
guiled, blinded, and mocked. And so, being in 
good mind, she was by the justices carried to the 
old market within the city of Roan, and there by 



the fire consumed to ashes in the sight of all the 
people." The confession in the fourth scene, which 
is so revolting to us, is built upon an assertion 
which the dramatist found in Holinshed. Taken 
altogether, the character of Joan of Arc, as repre- 
sented in this play, appears to us to be founded 
upon juster views than those of the chroniclers ; 
and the poet, without any didactic -expression of 
his opinion, has dramatically made us feel that the 
conduct of her persecutors was atrocious. That 
in a popular play, written two hundred and fifty 
years ago, we should find those tolerant, and there- 
fore profound, views of the character of such an 
enthusiast as Joan of Arc by which she is estimated 
in our own day, was hardly to be expected. From 
her own countrymen Joan of Arc had an equally 
scanty measure of justice. Monstrelet, the French 
chronicler, does not hesitate to affirm that the 
whole affair was a got-up imposture. The same 
views prevailed in France in the next century ; and 
it is scarcely necessai-y to observe that Voltaire 
converted the story of the Maid into a vehicle for 
the most profligate ribaldry. Long after France 
had erected monuments to Joan of Arc her me- 
mory was ridiculed by those who claimed to be in 
advance of public opinion. 







[Reignier, Di;l:e of Anjou.] 



The narrative of the wooing of Margaret of Anjou 
by Suffolk is thus given by Holinshed : — 

"In the treating of thistruce, the Earl of Suf- 
folk, extending his commission to the uttermost, 
without the assent of his associates, imagined in 
his fantasy that the next way to come to a perfect 
peace was to move some marriage between the 
French king's kinswoman, the Lady Margaret, 
daughter to Regner Duke of Anjou, and his sove- 
reign lord King Henry. This Regner Duke of 
Anjou named himself King of Sicily, Naples, and 
Jerusalem, having only the name and style of those 



realms, without any penny profit or foot of pos- 
session. This marriage was made strange to the 
earl at first, and one thing seemed to be a great 
hindrance to it, which was, because the King of 
England occupied a great part of the duchy of 
Anjou, and the whole county of Maine, appertain- 
ing (as was alleged) to King Regner. The Earl 
of Suffolk (I cannot say) either corrupted with 
bribes, or too much affection to this unprofitable 
marriage, condescended and agreed that the duchy 
of Anjou and the county of Maine should be de- 
livered to the king, the bride's father, demanding 

63 



ILLUSTRATION'S OF ACT V. 



tor her marriage neither penny nor farthing, as 
who would say that this new affinity passed all 
riches, and excelled both gold and precious stone. 
******* But although this 
marriage pleased the king and others of his coun- 
sel, yet Humfrey Duke of Gloucester, protector 
of the realm, was much against it, alleging that it 
should be both contrary to the laws of God and 
dishonourable to the prince if he should break that 
promise and contract of marriage made by am- 
bassadors, sufficiently thereto instructed, with the 
daughter of the Earl of Arminack, upon con- 
ditions, both to him and his realm, as much 
profitable as honourable. But the duke's words 
could not be heard, for the earl's doings were only 
liked and allowed. * * * * The Earl 



of Suffolk was made Marquis of Suffolk, which 
marquis, with his wife and many honourable per- 
sonages of men and women, sailed into France for 
the conveyance of the nominated queen into the 
realm of England. For King Regner, her father, 
for all his long style, had too short a purse to send 
his daughter honourably to the king her spouse." 
In the fourth scene we find 

" That peaceful trine shall be proclaim'd in France." 

By this was probably intended the truce of 1444, 
which lasted till 1449. It was in that year that 
Charles VII. poured his troops into Normandy, 
and that Rouen, "that rich city," as Holinshed 
calls it, — the scene of the English glory and the 
English shame, — was delivered to the French. 




[Triumphal Entry of Charles VII. into Rouen.] 




Histories.— Vor.. N. 




[Richard Duke of i'ork.J 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 



The drama which we now publish appears in the original folio edition of Shakspere's plays under 
the title of ' The Second part of Henry the Sixt, with the Death of the Good Duke Humfrey.' In 
the form in which it has been transmitted to us by the editors of that first collected edition of our 
author, it had not been previously printed. But in 1594 there appeared a separate play, in quarto* 
under the following title : — ' The First Part of the Contention betwixt the two famous Houses of 
Yorke and Lancaster, with the Death of the Good Duke Humphrey, and the Banishment and Death 
of the Duke of Suffolke, and the Tragical End of the proud Cardinall of Winchester, with the 
notable Rebellion of Jack Cade, and the Duke of Yorkes first Claime unto the Croune. Printed 
by Thomas Creede for Thoma3 Millington.' This play, in the entire conduct of the scenes, and in 
a great measure in the dialogue, is ' The Second Part of Henry the Sixt.' But the alterations 
and additions are so considerable that it has been held, of late years, that ' The First Part of the 
Contention,' as published by Millington in 1594, reprinted by him in 1600, and subsequently 
republished about 1619 as written by Shakspere, was the entire work of some other dramatist; 
and that Shakspere only added certain lines to this original, and altered others. This is the question 
which, in connexion with the more general question of the literary history of the Three Parts of 
Henry VI. and of Richard III., we propose to examine in a separate Dissertation. It has appeared 
to us, however, that it would be desirable on many accounts if we were to reprint ' The First Part 
of the Contention' as a Supplement to this Second Part of Henry VI., and 'The Second Part of the 
Contention ' as a Supplement to the Third Part of Henry VI. To enable the reader fairly to compare 
the original and the revised dramas, we have modernised the orthography of the elder performances, 
as well as corrected the punctuation, and printed some lines metrically, which, although appearing 
as prose, were obviously intended to be read as verse; and the contrary. We have also, foi the 
convenience of reference, divided each of these plays into Acts and Scenes. In every other respect 
we strictly follow the original copies. 

F 2 67 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 




[Henry VI.] 



Costume oi' Henry VI., Part II. 

In our Notice to the First Part of this play we mentioned that we knew of no contemporary 
portrait or effigy of Humphrey Duke of Gloster. A figure supposed to represent him exists in a 
piece of tapestry belonging to St. Mary's Hall, at Coventry; but the tapestry is, in our opinion, 
of the date of Henry VII., although Major Hamilton Smith, in his 'Ancient Costume of England,' 
quotes the suggestion of an antiquarian friend that it was put up in all probability during the lives 
of Henry VI. and Queen Margaret, who both frequently visited the city, and were entertained in 
that hall. Our reason for doubting this circumstance is, that the costume is evidently of a later date 
than the accession of Edward IV., and that during the reign of that monarch, or of Richard III., not 
even the Lancastrian citizens of Coventry would have been likely to venture so ostentatious a display 
of the portraits of Henry, Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, the Duke of Bedford, Duke Humphrey, and 
all the principal nobility and courtiers attached to the party of the Red Rose. We believe it to 
have been executed immediately after the triumph of Henry VII. at Bosworth Field ; and, therefore, 
though we shall give two or three figures from it in this Part of the play as illustrations, they must 
not be taken as authorities for the dress of this precise period. The plates in Major Hamilton 
Smith's work are incorrectly drawn and coloured ; ours were taken from a careful copy of the 
original tapestry made many years ago, and exhibit on the dresses of the King and Queen the 
pecidiar pine-apple pattern so much in vogue during the close of the fifteenth century. The attitudes 
alone have been altered ; Henry and Margaret being represented kneeling in the original. Of Cardinal 
Beaufort we give the effigy from his monument described in Part I. Of Edmund Beaufort, the 
Duke of Somerset in this Part of the play, we have no representation : he was buried in the Abbey 
of St. Alban's. 

Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York, is depicted on glass in Trinity Hall, Cambridge : the 

figure has been frequently but improperly engraved as Richard Duke of Gloster. Sandford 

mentions another painting on glass of this Richard Plantagenet, in the east window of the north 

aisle of Cirencester church in Gloucestershire, "having on the pomel of his sword the arms of 

G8 



SECOND PART OF KING HENEY VI. 

Mortimer Earl of March, it may be thereby to signifie that, although he was forced to use the 
Made to dispute his right to the crown, yet did he shroud himself under the shield or hilt of a good 
title." Of Humphrey Stafford Duke of Buckingham, or of the Cliffords, father and son, we have 
no representation : neither know we any of Richard Nevil Earl of Salisbury ; but his son Richard 
Nevil Earl of Warwick is depicted by Rouse in the "Warwick Roll, College of Arms, London, from 
which, by ljermission, our copy is made. The general costume of this period may be observed in 
our engrav .ug from Lydgate's MS. in the Harleian Collection mentioned in Part I. ; and, as a 
curious rather than an authentic illustration, we give (p. 81) the composition supposed to represent 
the marriage of Henry VI. and Margaret of Anjou, from Walpole's 'Anecdotes of Painting in 
England.' 




[Costume of the Commonalty of the Period.] 




[Room of State. Soenel.j 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— London. A Room of State in the 
Palace. 

Flourish of Trumpets: then hautboys. Enter, 
on. one side, King Henky, Duke of Gloster, 
Salisbury, Warwick, and Cardinal Beau- 
fort ; on the other, Queen Margaret, led in 
by Suffolk ; York, Somerset, Buckingham, 
and others following . 

Suff. As by your high imperial majesty 
I had in charge at my depart for Trance, 
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, aud 

Alencon, 
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 
To your most gracious hands, that are the sub- 
stance 
Of that great shadow I did represent ; 
The happiest gift that ever marquess gave, 
The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd. 

K. Hen. Suffolk, arise. — Welcome, queen 
Margaret : 
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. 

q. Mar. Great king of England, and my gra- 
cious lord, 
The mutual conference that my mind hath had, 
By day, by night,— waking, and in my dreams — 



Act I.] 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene t 



In courtly company, or at my beads, — 
With you mine alder-liefest a sovereign, 
Makes me the bolder to salute my king 
With ruder terms, such as my wit affords, 
And over-joy of heart doth minister. 

K. Hen. 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. 

All. \]cneeling^\ Long live queen Margaret, 
England's happiness ! 

Q. Mar. We thank you all. [Flourish. 

Suf. 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. 

Olo. [Reads.'] 'Imprimis, It is agreed be- 
tween the French king, Charles, and William de 
la Poole, marquess of Suffolk, 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 thir- 
tieth of May next ensuing. — Item,— That the 
duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall 
be released and delivered to the king her father' — 

K. Hen. Uncle, how now ? 

Glo. Pardon me, gracious lord ; 

Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart, 
And dimmed mine eyes; that I can read no 
further. 

K. Hen. Uncle of Winchester, I pray, read on. 

Car. 'Item, — It is further agreed between 
them, that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall 
be released and delivered over to the king her 



a Alder-liefesl — dearest of all. This beautiful word is a 
Saxon compound. Alder, of all, is thus frequently joined 
with an adjective of the superlative degree, — as alderfirst, 
aldcrlast. Liefest, levest, is the superlative of lefe, leve, dear. 

b This line is usually pointed thus : — 

" Makes me, from wondering, fall to weeping joys." 

But wondering is an adjective agreeing with joys as well as 
weeping. 

o Gloster reads this document thus : — " That the duchy of 
Anjou and the county of Maine shall be released," &c. In 
the Cardinal's hands the words are changed — " That the 
duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released," &c. Ma- 
lone says, " The words in the instrument could not thus vary 
whilst it was passing from the hands of the duke to those of 
the Cardinal;" and he adds that the inaccuracy is not found 
in the original play. It seems to us that the variation was 
intentional. The Cardinal reads the document correctly; 
but Gloster, whose mind had seized upon the substance of 
the articles before he recited the conclusion of the sentence, 
ceases to read when the sudden qualm hath struck him at 
the heart, and delivers the import of the words which have 
bo moved him with substantial correctness but formal inac- 
curacy. 

72 



father ; and she sent over of the king of Eng- 
land's own proper cost and charges, without 
having any dowry.' 

A'. Hen. 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 
Iu the parts of France, till term of eighteen 

months 
Be fidl 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 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, and summer's parching heat, 
To conquer France, his true inheritance? 
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, 
To keep by policy what Henry got ? 
Have 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 iu the council-house, 
Early and late, debating to and fro 
How Fiance and Frenchmen might be kept in 

awe? 
And hath his highness in his infancy 
Been a crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes ? 
And shall these labours, aud these honours, die ? 
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 yourrenown ; 
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France ; 
Undoing all, as all had never been ! 

Car. Nephew, what means this passionate dis- 
course, — 
This peroration with such circumstance? 
For France, 't is ours ; and we will keep it still. 

" Been is not in the original. 



Ac i 1.1 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 1. 



(rlo. 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 duchies of Anjou and Maine 
Unto the poor king Reignier, whose large style 
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. 

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 ? 

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 ; 
Those 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 dnke, 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 

wives : 
Aud 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 

Car. My lord of Gloster, now you grow too 
hot, 
It was the pleasure of my lord the king. 

Glo. My lord of Winchester, I know your 
mind ; 
'T is not my speeches that you do mislike, 
But 't is my presence that doth trouble you. 
Rancour will out : Proud prelate, in thy face 
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. 

Car. So, there goes our protector in a rage. 
'T is known to you he is mine enemy : 
Nay, more, an enemy unto you all ; 
And 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 heart ; be wise, and circumspect. 
What, though the common people favour him, 
Calling him — 'Humphrey, the good duke of 

Gloster ; ' 
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 sove- 
reign, 
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 his 
seat. 

Car. This weighty business will not brook 
delay ; 
I '11 to the duke of Suffolk presently. [Exit. 

Som. Cousin of Buckingham, though Hum- 
phrey's pride, 
And greatness of his place, be grief to us, 
Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal ; 
His insolence is more intolerable 
Than all the princes in the land beside ; 
If Gloster be displac'd, he '11 be protector. 

Buck. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be pro- 
tector, 
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 house-keep- 
ing, 
Hath wou the greatest favour of the commons, 
Excepting none but good duke Humphrey. 
And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, 
In bringing them to civil discipline ; 
Thy late exploits, done in the heart of France, 
When thou wert regent for our sovereign, 
Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the 

people : 
Join we together for the public good, 
In what we can, to bridle and suppress 

73 



Acr I.] 



SECOND PART OF KINO HENRY VI. 



[Scene II. 



The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal, 
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition ; 
And, as we may, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds 
While they do tend the profit of the land. 

War. So God help Warwick, as he loves the 

land, 
ibid 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 ! 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 anil Salisbury. 
York. Anjou and Maine are given to the 

French ; 
Paris is lost; the state of Normandy 
Stands on a tickle a 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 ? 
'T is thine they give away, and not their own. 
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their 

pillage. 
And purchase friends, and give to courtesans, 
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 ; 
Heady to starve, and dare not touch his own. 
So York nmst sit, and fret, and bite his tongue, 
While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold. 
Methinks, the realms of England, Prance, and 

Ireland, 
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood 
As did the fatal brand Althea burn'd, 
Unto the prince's heart of Calydon. b 
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 Tickle — uncertain ; the Saxon tilcel. 
'The MilleresTale:'— 



So in Chaucer, 



"This world is now full tikel sikerly" — 

i. c, this world is now quite uncertain, surely. 

b Meleager, the prince of Calydon, died in great torments 
when his mother Althea threw into the flames the firebrand 
upon the preservation of which his life depended. 

74 



A day will come when York shall claim his own ; 
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts, 
And make a show of love to proud duke Hum- 
phrey, 
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 the 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 awhile, till time do serve : 
Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep, 
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 smell the air shall be per- 

fum'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. 

Duch. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd 

corn, 
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load ? 
Why doth the great duke Humphrey knit his 

brows, 
As frowning at the favours of the world ? 
Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, 
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight ? 
What sce'st thou there ? king Henry's diadem, 
Enchas'd with all the honours of the world ? 
If*so, 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 '11 lengthen it with mine : 
And, having both together heav'd it up, 
We '11 both together lift our heads to hcav'n ; 
And never more abase our sight so low 
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. 
Glo. 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, 
Be my last breathing in this mortal world ! 



Act I.] 



SECOND PAET OF KINO HENRY VI. 



ISOENE II, 



My troublous dream this night doth make me 
sad. 
Ditch. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and 
I '11 requite it 
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. 
Glo. Methought this staff, mine office-badge 
in court, 
Was broke iu twain ; by whom I have forgot, 
But, as I think, it was by the cardinal ; 
Aud, on the pieces of the broken wand 
Were plac'd the heads of Edmund duke of So- 
merset, 
And William de la Poole first duke of Suffolk. 
This was my dream; what it doth bode, God 
knows. 
Buck. Tut, this was nothiug but an argument, 
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster'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 

crown' d ; 
Where Henry, aud dame Margaret, kneel'd to 

me, 
And on my head did set the diadem. 

Glo. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide out- 
right : 
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd a Eleanor ! 
Art thou not secoud woman in the reabn : 
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 cho- 
leric 
With Eleanor, for telling but her dream ? 
Next time, I 'II keep my dreams unto myself, 
And not be check'd. 

Glo. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mes. My lord protector, 'tis his highness' plea- 
sure, 
You do prepare to ride unto St. Alban's, 
Whereas b the king and queen do mean to hawk. 



» So in ' Venus and Adonis : ' — 

" Were I hard-favour'd, foul, or wrinkled-old, 
Ill-nurtur'd, crooked, churlish, harsh in voice." 
" b Whereas is here used in the sense of where, as it fre- 
quently is by Shakspere's contemporaries. Thus, in Daniel's 
tragedy of ' Cleopatra,' 1594, we have — 

" That I should pass whereas Octavia stands 
To view my misery." 



Glo. I go. — Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with 



& 
us ? 



Duch. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow pre- 
sently. 

[Exeunt Gloster and Messeuger. 
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 ? Sir John ! a nay, fear not, 

man, 
We are alone ; here's none but thee and I. 

Enter Hume. 

Hume. Jesu preserve your royal majesty ! 
Duch. What say'st thou, majesty ! I 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? hast thou as 
yet conferr'd 
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch ; 
With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjuror ? 
And will they undertake to do me good ? 

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 '11 think upon the ques- 
tions : 
When from Saint Alban's we do make return, 
We '11 see these things effected to the full. 
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, 

man, 
With thy confederates in this weighty cause. 

[Exit 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 : 

a Sir John. Hume was a priest, and receives the title 
common to his order. Tvrwhitt says that, from the title being 
so usually given in this way, " a Sir John came to be a nick- 
name for a priest." 

75 



Alt I.J 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene III. 



I dare not say from the rich cardinal, 
And from the great and new-made duke of Suf- 
folk ; 
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 brain. 
They say, A crafty knave does need no broker ; 
Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker. 
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near 
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' wrack ; 
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall : 
Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. {Exit. 

SCENE III.— Tie same. A Room in the Pa- 
lace. 
Enter Peter, and others, with petitions. 

1 Pet. My masters, let's stand close ; my lord 
protector will come this way by and by, and then 
we may deliver our supplications in the quill. a 

2 Pet. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he 's 
a good man ! Jesu bless him ! 

Enter Suffolk and Queen Margaret. 

1 Pet. Here' a comes, methinks, and the queen 
with him : I '11 be the first, sure. 

2 Pet. Come back, fool; this is the duke of 
Suffolk, and not my lord protector. 

Suf. How now, fellow? would' st anything 
with me ? 

1 Pet. I pray, my lord, pardon me ! I took ye 
for my lord protector. 

Q. Mar. {Reading the superscription. ~\ 'To 
my lord protector ! ' are your supplications to his 
lordship ? 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 
keeping my house, and lands, and wife and all, 
from me. 

Suf. Thy wife too? that is some wrong, in- 
deed. — What 's yours ? — What 's here ! [Reads. ~\ 
' Against the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the 
commons of Mclford.' — How now, sir knave ? 

2 Pet. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of 
our whole township. 

Peter. [Presenting his petition.'] Against ray 
master, Thomas Horner, for saying, That the 
duke of York was rightful heir to the crown. 

Q. Mar. What say'st thou ? Did the duke of 
York say, he was rightful heir to the crown ? 

a In the quill, or in quill, may mean written— our written 
petitions. In the same way in print means printed. 

70 



Peter. That my master was ? No, forsooth : 
my master said, That he was ; and that the king 
was an usurper. 

Suf. Who is there? [Enter Servants.] — Take 
this fellow in, and send for his master with a 
pursuivant presently : — we '11 hear more of your 
matter before the king. 

[Exeunt Servants, with Peter. 

Q.Mar. A.nd as for you that love to be pro- 
tected 
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. 

Q. Mar. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the 
guise,_ 
Is this the fashions in the court of England ? 
Is this 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 Prance, 
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 : 
His champions are the prophets and 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. 

Suf. Madam, be patient : as I was cause 
Your highness came to England, so will I 
In England work your grace's full content. 

Q. Mar. Beside the haughty protector, have 
we Beaufort, a 
The imperious churchman ; Somerset, Bucking- 
ham, 
And grumbling York : and not the least of these 
But can do more in England than the king. 

Suf And he of these that can do most of all 
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils : 
Salisbury and Warwick arc no simple peers. 

a Haughty, in the first folio; haught in the second. Mr. 
Sidney Walker notices the reading of haughty as " a remark- 
able instance of Mr. Knight's slavery to the [first] folio." The 
preference of haught is a " remarkable instance," amongst 
many others, of my late friend's "slavery" to a syllable- 
counting principle, frequently opposed to the freedom and 
harmony of dramatic verse. 



Act I.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene TIF. 



Q. Mar. Not all these lords do vex rue 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, 
And in her heart she scorns our poverty : 
Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her ? 
Contemptuous base-born callat as she is, 
She vaunted 'mongst her minions t' other day, 
The very train of her worst wearing-gown 
"Was better worth than all my father's lauds, 
Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter. 
Suf. Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for 
her; 
And plac'd a quire 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 I 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 dis- 
grace. 
As for the duke of York, this late complaint 
Will make but little for his benefit : 
So, one by one, we '11 weed them all at last, 
And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. 

Enter King Henry, York, and Somerset; 
Duke and Duchess of Gloster, Cardinal 
Beaufort, Buckingham, Salisbury, and 
Warwick. 

K. Hen. For my part, noble lords, I care 
not which ; 
Or Somerset, or York, all 's one to me. 

York. If York have ill demean'd himself in 
France, 
Then let him be denay'd 1 the regentship. 

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. 

Car. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters 

speak. 
War. The cardinal 's not my better in the field. 
Buck. All in this presence are thy betters, 

Warwick. 
War. Warwick may live to be the best of all. 

a Dsnay'd— denied. So, in Twelfth Night— 
" My love can give no place, bide no denay." 



Sal. Peace, son; and show some reason, 
Buckingham, 
Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this. 
Q. Mar. Because the king, forsooth, will have 

it so. 
Glo. Madam, the king is old enough himself 
To give his censure ; a these are no women's 
matters. 
Q. Mar. 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. 

Suf. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. 
Since thou wert king, (as who is king but 

thou?) 
The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack : 
The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas ; 
And all the peers and nobles of the realm 
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. 
Car. The commons hast thou rack'd ; the 
clergy's bags 
Are lank and lean with thy extortion. 

Som. Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy wife's 
attire, 
Have 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. 

Q. Mar. Thy sale of offices, and towns in 
France, 
If they were known, as the suspect is great, 
Would make thee quickly hop without thy head. 
[Exit Gloster. The Queen drops her fan. 
Give me my fan : What, minion ! can you not ? 

[Gives the Duchess a box on the ear. 
I cry you mercy, madam ; was it you ? . 

Duch. Was 't I ? yea, I it was, proud French- 
woman : 
Could I come near your beauty 'with my nails, 
I'd set my ten commandments b in your face. 
A'. Hen. Sweet aunt, be quiet ; 't was against 

her will. 
Duch. Against her will ! Good king, look 
to 't in time ; 
She '11 hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby- 
Though in this place most master wear no 
breeches, 



a Censure — opinion. 

1) Ten commandments. This phrase, which might more 
worthily fill the mouth of a lady of the fish-market, was 
common to the dramatists who wrote before the date of this 
play, and after. Thus, in ' The Four P's,' 1569— 

" Now ten times I beseech him that hie sits, 
Thy wifes X com. may serche thy five wits." 

And, in 'Westward Hoe,' ICO"— 

" your harpy has set his ten commandments on my back.' 



77 



Act I.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



rscEKE in 



She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd. 

[Exit Duchess. 
Buck. Lord cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, 
And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds : 
She 's tickled now : her fume needs no spurs, a 
She '11 gallop far b enough to her destruction. 

[Exit Buckingham. 

Re-enter Gloster. 

Glo. 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 Trance. 

Suf 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 un- 
meet. 
First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride : 
Next, if I be appointed for the place, 
My lord of Somerset will keep me here, 
Without discharge, money, or furniture, 
Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands. 
Last time, I dane'd attendance on his will, 
Till Paris was besieg'd, famish' d, and lost. 

War. That can I witness ; and a fouler fact 
Did never traitor in the land commit. 

Suf. Peace, headstrong Warwick ! 

War. Image of pride, why shoidd I hold my 
peace ? 

Enter Servants of Suffolk, bringing in Horner 
and Peter. 

Suf. Because here is a man accus'd of trea- 
son : 
Tray God, the duke of York excuse himself ! 
York. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor ? 
K. Hen. What mean'st thou, Suffolk ? Tell me : 

What are these ? 
Suf. 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. 
K. Hen. Say, man, were these thy words ? 
Hor. An't shall please your majesty, I never 

a The first folio has fume needs; the second, fume can 
need. 
i> Far. So the original. Pope's reading is fast. 

78 



said nor thought any such matter: God is my 
witness, I am falsely accused by the villaiii. 

Pet. By these ten bones, a my lords, [holding 
tip 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 '11 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 
the 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 ; there- 
fore, I beseech your majesty, do not cast away 
an honest man for a villain's accusation. 

K. Hen. 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 this 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. b 

Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty. 

Hor. And I accept the combat willingly. 

Pet. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight ; for God's 
sake, pity my case ! the spite of man prevaileth 
against me. Lord, have mercy upon me ! I 
shall never be able to fight a blow : Lord, my 
heart ! 

Glo. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be 
hang'd. 

K. Hen. Away with them to prison : and the 
day 
Of combat shall be the last of the next montn. — 
Come, Somerset, we '11 see thee sent away. 

[Exeunt. 

a Ten bones. This is an ancient adjuration. 

b In this place the following two lines are usually in- 
serted : — 

" K. Hen. Then be it so. My lord of Somerset, 
We make your grace lord regent o'er the French." 
The lines were found by Theobald in ' The First Part of the 
Contention,' and he introduced them because he thought that 
"duke Humphrey's doom" required the confirmation of 
King Henry. But Henry, havinggiventhe.power of deciding 
to Gloster, both in the case of the armourer and of the re- 
gency, might be intended by the poet, on his revisal of the 
play, to speak by the mouth of the Protector. The scene as 
it stands is an exhibition of the almost kingly authority of 
(iloster immediately before his fall. Mr. Dyce restores the 
lines, because "the king has not given the power of de- 
ciding to Gloster, but merely puts a question to him." Mr. 
Grant White holds that " the terms of that question clearly 
imply that Gloster is to decide the matter, and he pro- 
nounces doom, with the mere ceremonious expression of 
deference, 'if I may judge.' And that his judgment was 
considered final is plain." 



Act I.] 



SECOND PART OE KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



SCENE IN.— The same. The Duke of Glos- 
ter's Garden. 

Enter Makgeey. Jourdain, Hume, Southwell, 
and Bolingbroke. 

Hume. Come, my masters ; the duchess, I tell 
you, expects performance of your promises. 

Boling. Master Hume, we are therefore pro- 
vided; Will her ladyship behold and hear our 
exorcisms ? 

Hume. Ay: What else? fear you not her 
courage. 

Boling. 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, aud 
grovel on the earth: — John Southwell, read you; 
and let us to our work. 

Enter Duchess, above. 

Ditch. Well said, my masters; and welcome 
all. To this gear; the sooner the better. 

Boling. Patience, good lady; wizards know 
their times : 
Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, a 
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 within a hallow' d verge. 
[Here they 'perform the ceremonies appertain- 
ing, and make the circle ; Bolingbkoke, or 
Southwell, reads, Conjuro te, &c. It thun- 
ders and lightens terribly ; then the Spirit 
riseth. 
Spir. Adsum. 
M. Jourd. Asmath, 
By the eternal God, whose name and power 
Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask ; 
For, till thou speak thou shall not pass from 
hence. 
Spir. Ask what thou wilt: That I had said 

and done ! 
Boling. 'First, of the king. What shall of 
him become ? ' 

[Reading out of a paper. 

a In the ' First Part of the Contention,' this line thus ap- 
pears : — 

" Dark night, dread night, the silence of the night." 
The use of silent as a noun is wonderfully fine; and reminds 
us of " the vast of night" in the Tempest. 



Spir. The duke yet lives that Henry shall de- 
pose; 
But him outlive, and die a violent death. 

[As the Spirit speaks, Southwell writes 
the answer. 
Boling. 'What fates await the duke of Suf- 
folk?' 
Spir. By water shall he die, and take his end. 
Boling. 'What shall befall the duke of So- 
merset ? ' 
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. 

Boling. Descend to darkness and the burning 
lake : 
False fiend, avoid ! 

[Thunder and lightning. Spirit descends. 

Enter York, and Buckingham, hastily, toith their 
Guards, and others. 

York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and 
then* trash. 
Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch. — 
What, madam, are you there ? the king and 

commonweal 
Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains ; 
My lord protector will, I doubt it not, 
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts. 
Duch. Not half so bad as thine to England's 
king, 
Injurious duke ; that threat' st where is no cause. 
Buck. True, madam, none at all. What call 
you this ? [Showing 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 Duchess from above. 
We '11 see your trinkets here all forthcoming ; 
All, awav ! 

[Exeunt Guards, with South., Boling., fyc. 
York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you 
watch'd 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 shall depose ; 
But him outlive, and die a violent death.' 
Why, this is just, 

Aio te, jEacida, Romanos vincere posse. 
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 ? 

79 



ACT I.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



Let him shun castles ; 
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
Than where castles mounted stand.' 
Come, come, my lords ; 
These oracles are hardily a attain'd, 
And hardly understood. 

The king is now in progress toward Saint Alban's, 
With him the husband of this lovely lady : 
Thither go these news, as fast as horse can carry 
them; 

a Hardily— \n the folio hardly. The correction, which is 
ingenious, was made by Theobald. 



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 's within there, ho ! 

Enter a Servant. 

Invite my lords of Salisbury and Warwick. 
To sup with me to-morrow night — Away ! 

[Exeunt 









m 




., ,, 










[Pukp of Gloster's Garden. Incantation Scene 



/ I 



;4<-!J t;' ill m\y 




Marriage of Henry VI. and Margaret of Anjou.] 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT I. 



HISTOEICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



The connexion between the last scene of the 
First Part of Henry VI. and the first scene of the 
Second Part is as perfect as if they each belonged 
to one play. The concluding words of that last 
scene show us Suffolk departing for France for the 
accomplishment of the anxious wish of Henry — 

" That lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come 
To cross the seas to England." 

In the first lines of the Second Part we find Suf- 
folk returned from his mission, the purpose of 
which, as expressed in the last scene of the First 
Part, he here recapitulates. The passage of the 
poet is almost exactly copied from the historians, 
— Holinshed being in this case a literal transcriber 
from Hall : — " The Marquis of Suffolk, as procu- 
rator to King Henry, espoused the said lady in the 
church of Saiut Martin's. At the which marriage 
were present the father and mother of the bride ; 
the French king himself, which was uncle to the 
husband ; and the French queen also, which was 
aunt to the wife. There were also the Dukes of 
Orleans, of Calaber, of Alanson, and of Britaine, 
seven earls, twelve barons, twenty bishops, beside 
knights and gentlemen." 
Histories. — Vol. II. G 



The displeasure of the Duke of Gloster at this 
marriage is indicated by the poet in the last scene 
of the First Part. There Henry says, — 

" Agree to any covenants.' 

The announcement of the surrender of Anjou and 
Maine is reserved by the dramatist for the scene 
before us. This surrender is the chief cause of the 
Duke of Gloster' s indignation, as expressed in the 
celebrated speech, — 

" Brave peers of England, pillars of the state," &c. 

The poet makes the duke intimate no dislike of 
the queen's person ; and Henry, indeed, expressly 

thanks him 

"for this great favour done, 
In entertainment to my princely queen." 

The poet here follows Holinshed, who copies Fa- 
bian : — " On the eighteenth of May she came to 
London, all the lords of England in most sump- 
tuous sort meeting and receiving her upon the way, 
and specially the Duke of Gloster, with such ho- 
nour as stood with the dignity of his person." Of 
this circumstance Hall has no mention. 

Margaret of Anjou arrived in England in 1445. 

81 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT I. 



Her impatience under the authority of the Protector 
Gloster, and her intrigues to procure his disgrace, 
are set forth very graphically by Hall : — " This 
woman, perceiving that her husband did not 
frankly rule as he would, but did all things by 
the advice and counsel of Humphrey Duke of 
Gloster, and that he passed not much on the au- 
thority and governance of the realm, determined 
with herself to take upon her the rule and regiment 
both of the kiug and his kingdom, and to deprive 
and evict out of all rule and authority the said 
duke, then called the lord protector of the realm : 
lest men should say and report that she had neither 
wit nor stomach, which would permit and suffer 
her husband, being of perfect age and man's estate, 
like a young scholar or innocent pupil to be go- 
verned by the disposition of another man." But 
the hatred of Queen Margaret to "duke Hum- 
phrey's wife " is purely an invention of the poet. 
The disgrace of Eleanor Cobham took place three 
years before the arrival of Margaret in England. It 
is insinuated, however, by the chroniclers, that the 
accusation of the duchess upon a charge of sorcery 
and treason was prompted by the enemies of the 
protector. The following is Hall's account of this 
tragedy, in which " horror and absurdity are min- 
gled in about equal portions : " *— 

" But /enom will once break out, and inward 
grudge will soon appear, which was this year to all 
men apparent : for divers secret attempts were ad- 
vanced forward this season again&t the noble duke 
Humphrey of Gloster, afar off, which in conclusion 
came so near that they bereft him both of life and 
land, as you shall hereafter more manifestly per- 
ceive. For first this year, dame Eleanor Cobham, 
wife to the said duke, was accused of treason, for 
that she, by sorcery and enchantment, intended to 

« Pictorial History of England, vol. ii., p. 83. 



destroy the king, to the intent to advance and 
to promote her husband to the crown : upon this 
she was examined in Saint Stephen's chapel, 
before the bishop of Canterbury, and there by 
examination convict and judged to do open penance 
in three open places within the city of London, 
and after that adjudged to perpetual prison in the 
Isle of Man, under the keeping of Sir John Stan- 
ley, knight. At the same season were arrested, as 
aiders and counsellors to the said duchess, Thomas 
Southwel, priest and canon of Saint Stephen's in 
Westminster ; John Hum, priest ; Eoger Boling- 
broke, a cunning necromancer ; and Margery Jour- 
dain, surnamed the witch of Eye : to whose charge 
it was laid, that they, at the request of the duch- 
ess, had devised an image of wax representing the 
king, which by their sorcery a little and little 
consumed, intending thereby in conclusion to waste 
and destroy the king's person, and so to bring him 
death ; for the which treason they were adjudged 
to die : and so Margery Jourdain was burnt in 
Smithfield, and Roger Bolingbroke was drawn and 
quartered at Tyburn, taking tipon his death that 
there was never no such thing by them imagined. 
John Hum had his pardon, and Southwel died in 
the Tower before execution. The Duke of Gloster 
took all these things patiently, and said little." 

In the third scene, the charges which Beaufort, 
and Somerset, and Buckingham, insultingly heap 
upon the protector, are supported by this passage 
of Hall : — " Divers articles, both heinous and 
odious, were laid to his charge in open council ; 
and in especial, one that he had caused men ad- 
judged to die to be put to other execution than the 
law of the land had ordered or assigned." This is 
the charge of Buckingham : — 

" Thy cruelty in execution, 
Upon offenders, hath exceeded law, 
And left thee to the mercy of the law.' 







[Saint Alban's. Hawking Party. J 



ACT II. 



SCENE I.— Saint Alban's. 

E/iter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Glos- 

ter, Cardinal, and Suffolk, with Falconers 

hollaing. 

Q. Mar. Believe me, lords, for flying at the 
brook, 3, 
I saw not better sport these seven years' day : 
Yet, by yoivr leave, the wind was very high ; 
And ten to one old Joan had not gone out. h 

K. Hen. 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 fain ° of climbing high. 

a Flying at the brook— flying at birds of the brook ; hawk- 
ing at waterfowl. 

b Percy explains that " the wind was so high it was ten to 
one that old Joan would not have taken her flight at the 
game." 

c Fain. Steevens says that fain here signifies/oHd ; and he 
quotes Heywood's ' Epigrams on Proverbs : ' — 
" Fayre words make fooles faine." 
Surely, in this quotation fain means glad, — theSaxonmean- 

G2 



Sttf. 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 bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. 

Glo. My lord, 't is but a base ignoble mind 
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. 

Car. I thought as much ; he would be above 
the clouds. 

Glo. Ay, my lord cardinal : How think you 
by that? 
Were it not good your grace could fly to heaven ? 

A". Hen. The treasury of everlasting joy ! 

Car. Thy heaven is on earth ; thine eyes and 
thoughts 
Beat on a crown, a the treasure of thy heart ; 
Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, 
That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal ! 

ing. And this, it appears to us, is the signification in the 
passage before us. 

a Beat on a crown— are intent on a crown. This fine ex- 
pression may be explained by a passage in The Tempest : — 
" Do not infest your mind with beating on 
The strangeness of this business." 

83 



ACT II. J 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 



[Scene 1. 



Glo. What, cardinal, is your priesthood gi own 
peremptory ? 
Tantcene animis ccelestibus ira ? 
Churchmen so hot ? good uncle, hide such malice ; 
With such holiness can you do it ? 

Suf No malice, sir ; no more than well be- 
comes 
So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer. 
Glo. As who, my lord ? 
Suf. Why, as you, my lord ; 

An't like your lordly lord-protectorship. 

Glo. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine in- 
solence. 
Q. Mar. And thy ambition, Gloster. 
K. lien. I prithee, peace, 

Good queen ; and whet not on these furious 

peers, 
For blessed are the peacemakers on earth. 

Car. Let me be blessed for the peace I make, 
Against this proud protector with my sword ! 
Glo. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 't were come 
to that ! [Aside to the Cardinal. 

Car. Marry, when thou dar'st. [Aside. 

Glo. Make up no factious numbers for the 
matter, 
In thine own person answer thy abuse. [Aside. 
Car. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep : an if 
thou dar'st, 
This evening, on the east side of the grove. 

[Aside. 
K. Hen. How now, my lords ? 
Car. Believe me, cousin Gloster, 

Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, 
We had had more sport. — Come, with thy two- 
hand sword. [Aside to Glo. 
Glo. True, uncle. 
Car. Are you advis'd ? — the east side of the 

grove ? 

Glo. Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside. 

K. Hen. Why, how now, uncle Gloster ! 

Glo. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my 

lord.— 

Now, by God's mother, priest, I '11 shave your 

crown for this, 
Or all my fence shall fail. [Aside. 

Car. Mediae teipsum ; 
Protector, see to 't well, protect yourself. 

[Aside. 
K. lien. The winds grow high ; so do your 
stomachs, lords. 
How irksome is this music to my heart ! 
When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? 
I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. 

Enter One, cvying, A Miracle ! 
U 



Glo. What means this noise ? 
Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim : 
One. A miracle ! a miracle ! 
Snf. Come to the l<ing, and tell him what 

miracle. 
One. Forsooth, a blind man at St. Alban's 
shrine, 
Within this half-hour, hath receiv'd his sight ; 
A man that ne'er saw in his life before. 
K. Hen. Now, God be prais'd ! that to be- 
lieving souls 
Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair ! 

Enter the Mayor of St. Alban's, and his brethren .: 
and Simpcox, borne between two persons in a 
chair ; his wife and a great multitude following. 
Car. Here come the townsmen on procession, 
To present your highness with the man. 

A'. Hen. Great is his comfort in this earthly 
vale, 
Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. 
Glo. Stand by, my masters, bring him near 
the king ; 
His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. 
K. Hen. Good fellow, tell us here the circum- 
stance, 
That we for thee may glorify the Lord. 
What, hast thou been long blind, and now 
restor'd ? 
Simp. Born blind, an 't please your grace. 
Wife. Ay, indeed, was he. 
Suf What woman is this ? 
Wife. His wife, an't like your worship. 
Glo. Hadst thou been his mother thou 

couldst have better told. 
K. Hen. Where wert thou born ? 
Simp. At Berwick in the north, an't like your 

grace. 
K. Hen. Poor soul ! God's goodness hath been 
great to thee : 
Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, 
But still remember what the Lord hath done. 
Q. Mar. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou 
here by chance, 
Or of devotion, to this holy shrine ? 
Simp. God knows, of pure devotion ; being 
call'd 
A hundred times, and oftener, in my sleep 
By good Saint Alban; who said, — 'Simpcox, 

come; 
Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.' 
Wife. Most true, forsooth ; and many time 
and oft 
Myself have heard a voice to call him so. 
Car. What, art thou lame ? 



A(.T II.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SlENE 1. 



Simp. Ay, God Almighty help me ! 

Suf. 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. 0, born so, master. 

Glo. What, and wouldst 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 

wouldst 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 see'st not well. 
Simp. Yes, master, clear as day ; I thank God 

and Saint Alban. 
Glo. Say'st thou me so ? What colour is this 

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. 
K. Hen. Why then thou know'st what colour 

jet is of? 
Suf. And yet, I think, jet did he never see. 
Glo. But cloaks and gowns, before this day, 

a many. 
Wife. Never, before this clay, in all his life. 
Glo. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name ? 
Simp. Alas, master, I know not. 
Glo. What 's Ins 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, 

master. 
Glo. Then, Saunder, sit there, the lyingest 
knave in Christendom. If thou hadst been born 
blind, thou mightst 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. 
— My lords, Saint Alban here hath done a mi- 
racle ; and would ye not think that cunning to 
be great that could restore this cripple to his legs 



again ? a 



R Steevens prints this speech metrically, with certain 



Simp. O master, that you could ! 

Glo. My masters of St. Alban' s, have you not 
beadles in your town, and things called 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 the Beadle. 

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 doublet quickly. 

Simp. Alas, master, what shall I do ? I am 
not able to stand. 

[Jfler the Beadle hath hit him once, he leaps 
over the stool, and runs aicay ; and the people 
follow, and cry, A Miracle ! 
K. Hen. O God, seest thou this, and bear'st 

so long ? 
Q. Mar. It made me laugh to see the villain 

run. 
Glo. Follow the knave ; and take this drab 

away. 
Wife. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need. 
Glo. Let them be whipped through every 
market town, till they come to Berwick, from 
whence they came. 

[Exeunt Mayor, Beadle, Wife, fyc. 
Car. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle 

to-day. 
Suf. True ; made the lame to leap, and fly 

away. 
Glo. But you have done more miracles than I ; 
You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly. 

Eider Buckingham. 

K. Hen. What tidings with our cousin Buck- 
ingham ? 
Buck. Such as mv heart doth tremble to un- 
fold. 
A sort 0, of naughty persons, lewdly 1 " bent, — 
Under the countenance and confederacy 
Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, 
The ringleader and head of all this rout, — 



changes after his fashion of making verses. We give it as 
prose, as it stands in the Contention; the folio is neither 
prose nor verse. 

a Sort. ° Lewdly- wickedly. 

85 



Act II.] 



SECOND PAET OF KINO HENRY VI. 



[Sckj:e II. 



Have practis'd dangerously against your state, 
Dealing with witches, and with conjurers : 
Whom we have apprehended in the fact ; 
liaising \ip wicked spirits from under ground, 
Demanding of king Henry's life and death, 
And oilier of your highness' privy council, 
As more at large your grace shall understand. 

Car. And so, my lord protector, hy this means 
Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. 
This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's 

edge ; 
'T is like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. 

{Aside to Glostek. 
Olo. 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. 
K. Hen. God, what mischiefs work the 
wicked ones ; 
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby ! 
Q. Mar. Gloster, see here the tainture of thy 
nest ; 
And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best. 
Glo. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do ap- 
peal, 
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 dishonour'd Gloster's honest name. 
K. Hen. 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 cause 
prevails. [Flourish. Exeunt. 

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. 

86 



War. Sweet York, begin : and if thy claim be 

good 
The Nevils are thy subjects to command. 

York. Then thus — 
Edward the Third, 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 ; 
And left behind him Pilchard, his only son, 
Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd as 

king ; 
Till Henry Bobngbroke, duke of Lancaster, 
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, 
Crown' d by the name of Henry the Eourth, 
Seiz'd on the realm ; depos'd the rightful king ; 
Sent his poor queen to Erance from whence she 

came, 
And him to Pomfret ; where, as all you know, 
Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously. 
War. Eather, the duke hath told the truth ; 
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown. 
York. Which now they bold by force, and no! 

by right ; 
Eor Richard, the first son's heir, being dead, 
The issue of the next son shoxdd 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, Amie, and Eleanor. 
Sal. This Edmund, in the reign of Bobng- 
broke, 
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. 
But, to the rest. 

York. His eldest sister, Anne, 

My mother, being heir unto the crown, 
Married Richard earl of Cambridge ; who was 

son 
To Edmund 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 



Act II. ] 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 



[Scene III. 



Of Edmund Mortimer ; who married Philippe, 
Sole daughter uuto Lionel duke of Clarence : 
So if the issue of the elder son 
Succeed before the younger, I am kiug. 

War. What plain proceedings are 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 together ; 
And, in this private plot, a be we the first 
That shall salute our rightful sovereign, 
With honour of his birthright to the crown. 
Both. Long live our sovereign Richard, Eng- 
land'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 ; 
And that 's not suddenly to be perform'd ; 
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 : 
'T is 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 kiug. 

York. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself, — 
Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick 
The greatest man in England but the king. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— The same. A Hall of Justice. 

Trumpets sounded. Enter King Henry, Queen 
Margaret, Gloster, York, Suffolk, and 
Salisbury ; the Duchess of Gloster, Mar- 
gery Jourdain, Southwell, Hume, and 
Bolixgbroke, under guard. 

K. Hen. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, 
Gloster's wife : 
Tn 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. 

a Plot— Spot. 



You four, from hence to prison back again ; 

[To Jourd., §c. 
From thence, unto the place of execution : 
The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes, 
And you three shall be 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. 

Such. Welcome is banishment, welcome were 

my death. 
Glo. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged 
thee; 
I cannot justify whom the law condemns. — 
[Exeunt the Duchess, and the other prisoners 
guarded. 
Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. 
Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age 
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground ! 
I beseech your majesty give me leave to go ; 
Sorrow woidd solace, and mine age would ease. 
K. Hen. 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. 

Q. Mar. 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 : a 
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 ere 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. 
Q. Mar. Why, now is Henry king, and Mar- 
garet 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 : b — There let it stand, 
Where it best fits to be, in Henrv's hand. 



a Helm. — In the original this is realm. Johnson made the 
correction : the repetition of realm heing most probably a 
typographical error. 

b Raught.— This is used by Chaucer and Spenser in the 
sense of reached ; it certainly means here taken away, as in 
Peele's 'Arraignment of Paris :' — 

" How Pluto raught queen Ceres' daughter thence." 

87 



Act II.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



Suf. Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs 
his sprays ; 
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. 
Fork. Lords, let him go : — Please it your 
majesty, 
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. 
Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord ; for purposely 
therefore 
Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. 
K. Hen. 0' 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 bested, 
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, 
The servant of this armourer, my lords. 

Enter, on one side, Horneb, and his neighbours, 
drinking to him so much that he is drunk ; and 
he enters bearing his staff with a sand-bag 
fastened to it ; a drum before him : at the other 
side, Petek, with a drum and a similar staff ; 
accompanied by "prentices drinking to him. 

1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to 
you in a cup of sack. And fear not, neighbour, 
you shall do well enough. 

2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a cup 
of charneco. a 

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 '11 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 
master : 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 
shalt 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 ? 

Peter. Thump. 

Sal. Thump ! then sec thou thump thy master 
well. 

° Charneco — the name of a wine. 
88 



Hor. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, 
upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave 
and myself an honest man : and touching 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 down- 
right blow, [as Bevis of Southampton fell upon 
Ascapart. a ] 

York. Despatch ; — this knave's tongue begins 
to double. 
Sound trumpets alarum to the combatants. 

[Alarum. They fight, and Petek strikes 

down his master. 

Hor. Hold, Peter, hold ! I confess, I confess 

treason. [Dies. 

York. Take away his weapon : — Fellow, thank 

God, and the good wine in thy master's way. 

Peter. God ! have I overcome mine ene- 
my in this presence ? Peter, thou hast pre- 
vailed in right ! 

K. Hen. Go, take hence that traitor from our 
sight ; 
Tor, by his death, we do perceive his guilt : 
And God, in justice, hath reveal'd to us 
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, 
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrong- 

fully. 
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV.— The same, si Street. 
Enter Glostek and Servants, in mourning cloaks. 

Glo. Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day 
a cloud ; 
And after summer ever more 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 coming of my punish'd duchess ; 
Uneath b may she endure the flinty streets, 
To tread 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 did'st ride in triumph through the 
streets. 



"The words in brackets are not in the folio, but are found 
in 'The First Part of the Contention.' The story of Bevis 
and Ascapart was a favourite legend. See Illustrations ctf 
Act ii. 

h Uneath — not easily. 

<: Envious — malicious. 



Act II. J 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCEKE IV. 



But soft ! I think she comes ; and I '11 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 
Stanley, a Sheriff, and Officers. 

Sere. So please your grace, we '11 take her 
from the sheriff. 

Glo. No, stir not, for your lives ; let her pass by. 

Buch. Come you, my lord, to see my open 
shame F 
Now thou dost peuance 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 thine enemies, both mine and thine. 

Glo. Be patient, gentle Nell ; forget this 
grief. 

Buch. 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, with papers on my back ; 
And follow'd with a rabble, that rejoice 
To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet a groans. 
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet ; 
And when I start the envious people laugh, 
And bid me be advised how I tread. 
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke ? 
Trow'st thou that e'er I '11 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 '11 say. I am duke Humphrey's wife ; 
And he a prince, and ruler of the land : 
Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was, 
As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess, 
"Was made a wonder, and a pointing stock, 
To every idle rascal follower. 
But be thou mild, and blush not at my sname ; 
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 wiugs, 
And, fly thou how thou canst, they '11 tangle 
thee : 

a Deep-fet— deep-fetched. 



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 ; 
I must offend before I be attainted : 
And had I twenty times so many foes, 
And each of them had twenty times their power, 
All these could not procure me any scatli, a 
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. 
Would'st have me rescue thee from this re- 
proach ? 
"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 cpuckly worn. 

Enter a Herald. 

Her. I summon your grace to his majesty's 
parliament, holden at Bury the first of this next 
month. 

Glo. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein be- 
fore ! 
This is close dealing. — Well, I will be there. 

[Exit Herald. 
My Nell, I take my leave : — and, master sheriff, 
Let not her penance exceed the king's commis- 
sion. 
Sher. An 't please your grace, here my com- 
mission 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 ? 
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 ; and I may live 
To do you kindness, if you do it her. 
Aud so, sir John, farewell. 

Buch. What, gone, my lord ; and bid me not 

farewell ? 
Glo. "Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak. 
[Exeunt Gloster and Servants. 
Buch. 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 prithee, go, and take me hence; 
I care not whither, for I beg no favour, 
Only convey me where thou art commanded. 

Stan. Why, madam, that is to the isle of Man ; 
There to be used according to your state. 

a Scat!/— harm. 

89 



Act II.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



Duch. That's bad enough, for I am but re- 
proach : 
And shall I then be used reproachfully ? 

Stan. Like to a duchess, aud duke Hum- 
phrey's lady, 
According to that state you shall be used. 
Duck. Sheriff, farewell, aud better than I 
fare ; 
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame ! 
Sher. 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 
this sheet, 
And go we to attire you for our journey. 

Duch. My shame will not be shifted with my 
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. 

[Exeunt. 



RECENT NEW READING. 



Sc. III. p. 87.— Q. Mar. 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 ; 
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. 

" Q. Mar. I see no reason why a king of years 
Should be protected, like a child, by peers. 
God and king Henry govern England's helm ; 
Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm. 

Glo. My staff?— here, noble Henry, is my staff: 
To think I fain would keep it makes mo laugh. 
As willingly," Sec— Collier. 



The broken-hearted Protector has just seen his wire 
banished : 

" Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief." 
The king has demanded the staff, but with words of kind- 
ness. Margaret interposes — 

" I see no reason why a king of years 
Should be to be protected like a child." 
The Corrector of Mr. Collier's folio, to obtain a rhyme, 
inserts by peers ; and, two lines onward, adds the new line. 
Is it exactly adapted to the situation where it is inserted? 
Is this entirely consistent with what precedes and follows, 
in the bearing of this dishonoured man, bowing his head 
" in sorrow to the ground ? " 



" M v,„.,. ■•* 




[Street in London ; Cheapside. Scene IV 




[The Bar-Gate, Southampton.] 



ILLUSTRATIONS OP ACT II. 



"As Bcvis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart." 

We have been unwilling to part with these 
words although they are wanting in the text 
as revised by Shakspere. 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. "We have no doubt that our 
greatest poet was a diligent student of those ancient 
legends, upon which one who in many respects 
greatly resembled him chiefly formed himself. 
Scott has done more than any man of our own 
generation to send us back to these well-heads of 
poesy. His lines in the ' Lady of the Lake ' illus- 
trate the passage before us : — 

" My sire's tall form might grace the part 
Of Ferragus, or Ascabart." 

Sir Bevis has had monuments of stone (as the 



Gate at Southampton), and more enduring monu- 
ments of literature. He earned these honours, as 
the legend says, by the conquest of the mightiest 
of giants, who yet stands by his side, in the sculp- 
tured record, as a person of very reasonable dimen- 
sions. But the romance (we give the modernised 
version of Ellis) tells us something different : — 

" This giant was mighty and strong, 
And full thirty feet was long. 
He was bristled like a sow ; 
A foot he had between each brow ; 
His lips were great and hung aside ; 
His eyen were hollow, his mouth was wide ; 
Lothly 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." 



HISTOEICAL LLLUSTEATIOK 



The miracle scene at St. Alban's is founded upon 
a real occurrence. Sir Thomas More tells the story 
as related to him by his father. The poet probably 
found it in More's works, which were printed in 
1557 ; but this ludicrous episode iu a tragic history 
is also thus told by Grafton in his Chronicle : — 

" In the time of King Henry VI., as he rode in 
progress, there came to the town of Saint A Iban's a 
certain beggar, with his wife, and there was walking 
about the town, begging, five or sis days before the 
king's coming, saying that he was born blind, and 
never saw in all his life ; and was warned in his dream 
that he should come out of Berwick, where he said 
that he had ever dwelled, to seek Saint Alban. 



When the king was come, and the town full of 
people, suddenly this blind man, at Saint Alban' a 
shrine, had his sight; and the same was solemnly 
rung for a miracle, and Te Deum songen : so that 
nothing was talked of in all the town but this 
miracle. So happened it then that Duke Humphrey, 
Duke of Gloucester, a man no less wise than also 
well learned, called the poor man up to him, an<i 
looked well upon his eyen, and asked whether ho 
could never see anything at all in all his life before? 
and when as well his wife as himself affirmed fasti y, 
No; then he looked advisedly upon his eyenagain, 
and said, I believe you may well, for me thinketh 
that ye cannot see well yet. Yes, sir, quoth he : I 

91 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT II. 



thank God and his holy martyr, I can see now as 
well as any man. Ye can, quoth the duke; what 
colour is this gown ] Then anon the beggar told 
him. What colour, quoth he, is this man's gown? 
He told him also, without staying or stumbling, 
and told the names of all the colours that could 
be showed him. And when the duke saw that, he 
made him be set openly in the stocks." 

The poet found the picturesque story of the trial 
of battle between the armourer and his servant 
thus briefly told in Holinshed : — 

" In the same year also a certain armourer was 
appeached of treason by a servant of his own. For 
proof thereof a day was given them to fight in 
Smithfield, insomuch that in conflict the said 
armourer was overcome and slain ; but yet by 
misgoverning of himself : 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 therewith distempered, and reeled as he went, 
and so was slain without guilt. As for the false 
servant, he lived not long unpunished ; for, being 
convict of felony in court of assize, he was judged 
to be hanged, and so was, at Tyburn." 

The event is dramatically connected by the poet 
with the main plot, by his exact description of 
the treason of which " a certain armourer was 
appeached :" — 

" His words were these;— that Richard, duke of York, 
Was rightful heir unto the English crown ; 
And that your majesty vas an usurper." 



The poetical variations of the incident told by 
Holinshed greatly heighten the dramatic effect. 
The scene, in all probability, presents an accurate 
representation of the forms which attended a trial 
of battle. In this remarkable case of the battle 
between the armourer and his servant, some very 
curious particulars, not detailed by the chroniclers, 
have been found in the original precept to the she- 
riffs, and the return of expenses on the occasion, 
both of which are preserved in the Exchequer, 
The names of the combatants were John Daveys 
and William Catour. The barriers, it appears, 
were brought to Smithfield from Westminster ; a 
large quantity of sand and gravel was laid down, 
and the place of battle was strewed with rushes. 
The return of expenses contains the following 
item : " Also paid to officers for watchyng of ye 
ded man in Smyth felde ye same day and ye 
nyghte aftyr yt ye bataill was doon, and for hors 
hyre for ye officers at ye execucion doyng, and for 
ye hangman's labor, xjs. vid." The " hangman's 
labor" was subsequent to the battle. All the 
historians agree that the armourer was slain by 
his servant; but the ceremonies attending the 
punishment of a traitor were gone through with 
the dead body. (See Douce, ' Illustrations.") It 
is remarkable that the trial of battle was only 
abolished by law as recently as 1819 ; and that in 
the previous year there was every probability that 
a somewhat similar scene to that here dramatized 
would have been acted by the authority of the law, 
in the celebrated case of Ashford and Thornton. 




[Queen Margaret.] 




[Parliament in Abbey of Bury.] 



ACT III. 



SCENE I— The Abbey at Bury. 



Enter to the Parliament, King Henry, Queen 
Margaret, Cardinal Beaufort, Suffolk, 
York, Buckingham, and others. 

K. Hen. I muse, a my lord of Glostcr is not 

come : 
'T is not his wont to be the hindmost man, 
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. 
Q. Mar. Can you not see ? 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, peremptory, and unlike himself ? 
We know the time since he was mild and affable ; 
Aud, if we did but glance a far-off look, 

a / muse— l wonder. 



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 Hon 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 come about your royal person, 
Or be admitted to your highness' councd. 
By flattery hath he won the commons' heart ; 
And, when he please to make commotion, 
'T is to be fear'd they all will follow him. 

93 



Act HI.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 1 



Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow- 
rooted ; 
Suffer them now, and they 'U o'ergrow the gar- 
den, 
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, call it a woman's fear ; 
Which fear, if better reasons can supplant, 
I 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. 

Suf. "Well hath your highness seen into this 
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 lieu - ,) 
And such high vaunts of his nobility, 
Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess, 
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 lamb. 
No, no, my sovereign ; Gloster is a man 
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. 

Car. Did he not, coutrary 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 
unknown, 
Winch time will bring to light in smooth duke 
Humphrey. 

K. Hen. 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 con- 
science ? 
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. 

Q. Mar. 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, 

94 



For he 's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf, a 
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit r 
Take heed, my lord ; the welfare of us all 
Hangs on the cutting short that fraud ful man. 

Enter Somerset. 

Som. All health unto my gracious sovereign ! 
K. Hen. Welcome, lord Somerset. What news 

from France ? 
Som. That all your interest in those terri- 
tories 
Is utterly bereft you ; all is lost. 

K. Hen. Cold news, lord Somerset : But God's 

will be done ! 
York. 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 gear ere long, 
Or sell my title for a glorious grave. [Aside. 

Enter Gloster. 

Glo. All happiness unto my lord the king ! 
Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so long. 

Suf. 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's duke, 1 ' thou shalt not sec 
me blush, 
Nor change my countenance for this arrest ; 
A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. 
The purest spring is not so free from mud 
As I 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 ; 
By 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 then; 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 Eng- 
land! 
That doit that e'er I wrested from the king, 
Or any groat I hoarded to my use, 
Be brought against ine at my trial day ! 

a This is the reading of Rowe, instead of wolves. 

I) Well, Suffolk's duke. The reading of the first folio is, 

" Well, Suffolk, thou shalt not see me blush." 

In the second folio the defect of the metre is remedied by 

the addition of yet: " Well, Suffolk, yet," &c. In the ' First 

Part of the Contention ' we have the line, 

" Why, Suffolk's duke, thou shalt not see me blush." 



Act III. J 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene !. 



No ! many a pound of mine own proper store, 
Because I would not tax the needy commons, 
Have I dis-pursed to the garrisons, 
And never ask'd for restitution. 

Car. It serves you well, my lord, to say so 
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, 't is 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 fleee'd poor pas- 
sengers, 
I never gave them condign punishment : 
Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd 
Above the felon, or what trespass else. 

Suf. My lord, these faidts are easy, a quickly 
answer'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. 

K. Hen. My lord of Gloster, 't is my special 
hope, 
That you will clear yourself from all suspects; 1 * 
My conscience tells me you are innocent. 

Glo. Ah, gracious lord, these clays are dan- 
gerous. 
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 then- 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 
The envious load that lies upon his heart ; 
And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, 



a Easy. The adjective is here probably used adverbially. 
b Suspects. In the original, suspence. The correction was 
made by Steevens. 



Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back, 
By false accuse 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 a 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 : 
I shall not want false witness to condemn me, 
Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt ; 
The ancient proverb will be well effected,— 
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. 

Car. 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, 
'T will make them cool in zeal unto your grace. 
Suf Hath he not twit our sovereign lady 
here, 
With ignominious words, though clerkly couch' d» 
As if she had suborned some to swear 
False allegations to o'erthrow his state ? 

Q. Mar. 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 '11 wrest the sense, and hold us here 
all day : 
Lord cardinal, he is your prisoner. 

Car. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him 

sure. 
Glo. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his 
crutch, 
Before his legs be firm to bear his 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. 

SJZxeunt Attendants, with Gloster. 
K. Hen. My lords, what to your wisdoms 
seemeth best, 
Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. 
Q. Mar. What, will your highness leave the 

parliament ? 
K. Hen. Ay, Margaret ; my heart is drown'd 
with grief, 
Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes ; 
My body round engirt with misery ; 
For what 's more miserable than discontent ? 

a Liefest— dearest. See note on ulder-liefest, Act i. Sc. 1. 

95 



Act III.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene I. 



Ah, uncle Humphrey ! iu 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 fcar'd thy faith. 
What low'ring 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 



it 



And as the butcher takes away the calf, 
And binds the wretch, and beats it when 

strays, 
Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house ; 
Even so, remorseless, have they borne him 

hence. 
And as the clam runs lowing up and clown, 
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, Gloster he is none.' 

[Brit. 
Q. Mar. Fiee lords, cold snow melts with the 

sun's hot beams. 
Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, 
Too full of foolish pity : and Gloster'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 cliecker'd 



slough, 



doth 



sting 



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. 

Car. That he shoidd die is worthy policy : 
But yet we want a colour for his death : 
'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law. 
Snf. But, in my mind, that were no policy : 
The king will labour still to save his life ; 
The commons haply rise to save his life ; 
And yet we have but trivial argument, 
More than mistrust, that shows liim 
death. 
York. So that by this you would not have him 

die. 
Siif. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I. 
York. 'Tis York that hath more reason 
his death. 
But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord 
Suffolk,— 



96 



worthy 



for 



of 



Say as you think, and speak it from your souls, — 
Wer't not all one, an empty eagle were set 
To guard the chicken from a hungry kite, 
As place duke Humphrey for the king's protector? 

Q. Mar. So the poor chicken shoidd be sure 
of death. 

Snf. Madam, 'tis true: and wer't not mad- 
ness then, 
To make the fox surveyor of the fold ? 
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 flock, 
(Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood,) 
As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege. 
And do not stand on quillets, how to slay him : 
Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty, 
Sleeping cfr waking, 't is no matter how, 
So he be dead ; for that is good deceit 
Which mates a him first that first intends deceit. 

Q. Mar. Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely 
spoke. 

Sitf. 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, 
And to preserve my sovereign from his foe, — 
Say but the word, and I will be his priest. 

Car. 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 b the deed, 
And I'll provide his executioner, 
I tender so the safety of my liege. 

Suf. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy 
doing. 

Q. Mar. And so say I. 

York. And I : and now we three have spoke it, 
It skills not greatly 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. 
Car. A breach that craves a quick expedient c 

stop ! 
What counsel give you in this weighty cause ? 

n Mates — destroys, — confounds. 
l> Censure well — approve. 

c Expedient — expeditious. So, in Kins John : — 
" His nwches are expedient to this town." 



AlT III.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 11. 



Turk. That Somerset be sent as regent thither ; 
"I is meet that lucky ruler he employ'd ; 
Witness the fortune he hath had in France. 

Som. If York, with all his far-fet policy, 
Had been the regent there instead of me, 
He never would have staid in France so long. 

York. No, not to lose it all as thou hast done : 
I 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. 

Q. Mar. 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 naught? nay, then 
a shame take all ! 

Som. And in the number, thee, that wishest 
shame ! 

Car. 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. 

Suf. 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 take order for mine own affairs. 

Suf A charge, lord York, that I will see 
perform'd. 
But now return we to the false duke Humphrey. 

Car. 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, vou and I must talk of that event. 

3 «.' 

York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen clays, 
At Bristol I expect my soldiers ; 
For there I '11 ship them all for Ireland. 

Suf. I '11 see it truly done, my lord of York. 

[Exeunt all but York. 
York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful 
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, 
And find no harbour in a royal heart. 
Easter than spriug-time showers comes thought 
on thought ; 



Histories. — Vol. II. 



H 



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, weti, 't is 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 breasts, will sting your 

hearts. 
'T was 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-bied flavv. a 
And, for a minister of my intent, 
I have sedue'd a head-strong Kentishman, 
John Cade of Ashford, 
To make commotion, as full well he can, 
Under the title of John Mortimer. 
In Leland 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-quill'd porcupine : 
And, in the end being rescued, I have seen him 
Caper upright like a wild Morisco, b 
Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells. 
Eull often, like a shag-hair'd crafty Kerne, 
Hath he conversed with the enemy ; 
And undiscover'd come to me again, 
And given me notice of their villainies. 
This devil here shall be my substitute ; 
Eor that John Mortimer, which now is dead, 
In face, in gait, in speech, he doth resemble : 
By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, 
How they affect the house and claim of York. 
Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortur'd; 
I know no pain they can inflict upon him, 
Will make him say — I mov'd him to those arms. 
Say, that he thrive, (as 't is great like he will,) 
Why, then from Ireland come I with my strength, 
And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd : 
Eor, Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, 
And Henry put apart, the nest for me. [Exit. 

SCENE II. — Bury. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter certain Murderers, hastily. 

1 Mur. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know 
We have dispatch'd the duke, as he commanded. 

B Flaw— a sudden gust of wind. 

t> Morisco. This term probably points at the Moorish 
origin of the morris-dance. 



Act III. 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY VE 



[Scene II. 



2 Mur. 0, that it were to do !— What have we 
done ? 
Didst ever hear a man so penitent ? 

Enter Suffolk. 
1 Mur. Here comes my lord. 
Suf. Now, sirs, have you dispatch'd this 

thing ? 
1 Mur. Ay, my good lord, he 's dead. 
Suf Why that 's well said. Go, get you to my 
house ; 
[ 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 ? 
1 Mur. "lis, my good lord. 
Suf. Away, be gone ! \_Exeunt Murderers. 

Enter KrKG Henry, Queen Margaret, Cardi- 
nal Beaufort, Somerset, Lords, and others. 

K. Tien. Go, call our uncle to our presence 
straight : 
Say, we intend to try his grace to-day, 
If he be guilty, as 't is published. 
Suf I '11 call him presently, my noble lord. 

[Exit. 
K. Hen. 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. 

Q. Mar. God forbid any malice should pre- 
vail, 
That faultless may condemn a nobleman ! 
Pray God he may acquit him of suspicion ! 
K. Hen. I thank thee, Margaret ; these words 
content me much. — 

Re-enter Suffolk. 

How now ? why look'st thou pale ? why trem- 

blest thou ? 
Where is our uncle ? what's the matter, Suffolk ? 
Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord; Gloster is 

dead. 
Q. Mar. Marry, God forefend ! 
Car. God's secret judgment : — I did dream 
to-night 
1 he duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. 

[T/ie King swoons. 
Q. Mar. How fares my lord ? — Help, lords ! 

the king is dead. 
Som. Rear up his body ; wring him by the 

nose. 
Q. Mar. Run, go, help, help ! — O Heury, ope 
thine eyes ! 

03 



Suf. He doth revive again : — Madam, be pa- 
tient. 
A'. Hen. O heavenly God ! 
Q. Mar. How fares my gracious lord ? 
Suf. Comfort, my sovereign ! gracious Henry, 

comfort ! 
K. Hen. What, doth my lord of Suffolk com- 
fort 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 eye-balls murderous tyranny 
Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. 
Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding : 
Yet do not go away : — Come, basibsk, 
And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight : 
For in the shade of death I shall find joy ; 
In life but double death, now Gloster 's dead. 
Q. Mar. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk 
thus? 
Although the duke was enemy to him, 
Yet 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 woidd 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 ! 
A". Hen. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched 

man ! 
Q. Mar. Be woe for me, 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 deaf ? 
Be poisonous too, aud kill thy forlorn queen. 
Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb ? 
Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy : 
Erect his statua then, and worship it, 
And make my image but an alehouse sign 



Act III.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II. 



Was I for this nigh wrack' d upon the sea ; 
And twice by awkward 0, wind from England's 

bank 
Drove back again unto rny 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 ? 
What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts, 
And he that loos'd them forth their brazen caves ; 
And bid them blow towards England's blessed 

shore, 
Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock ? 
Yet iEolus 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'don 

shore, 
With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness : 
The splitting rocks cow'rd 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 perish b Margaret. 
As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, 
When from thy shore the tempest beat us back, 
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 re- 

ceiv'd it ; 
And 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 me, as Ascanius did, 
When he to madding Dido would unfold 
His father's acts, commene'd in burning Troy ? 
Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false 

like him ? 
Ah me, I can no more ! Die, Margaret ! 
For Henry weeps that thou dost live so long. 

Noise within. Enter Warwick and Salisbury. 
The Commons press to the door. 
War. It is reported, mighty sovereign, 
That good duke Humphrey traitorously is mur- 

der'd 
By Suffolk and the cardinal Beaufort's means. 
The commons, like an angry hive of bees, 

a Awkward wind. The same epithet is used by Marlowe, 
and by Drajton 
b Perish used actively, as destroy. 

H2 



That want then 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. 
K. Hen. That he is dead, good Warwick, 't is 
too true ; 
But how he died, Gods knows, not Henry : 
Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, 
And comment then upon his sudden death. 
War. That shall I do, my liege : — Stay, Salis- 
bury, 
With the rude multitude, till I return. 

[Warwick goes into an inner room, and 
Salisbury retires. 
T. Hen. thou that judgest all things, stay 
my thoughts ; 
M v thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul 
SoL".s 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 drain 
Upon his face an ocean of salt tears ; 
To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, 
And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling : 
But all in vain are these mean obsequies ; 
And to survey his dead and earthy image, 
What were it but to make my sorrow greater ? 

The folding doors of an inner chamber are thrown 
open, and Glostbr is discovered dead in Ms 
bed : Warwick and others standing by it. a 

War. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view 

this body. 
K. Hen. 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, 
I do believe that violent hands were laid 
Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke. 

Suf. A drcadfid oath, sworn with a solemn 
tongue ! 
What instance gives lord Warwick for his vow ? 



a This direction is modern. There can be no doubt that, 
as the play was originally acted, the secondary stage (which 
we shall describe in Othello) was employed. In the ' First 
Part of the Contention ' the murder itself takes place be- 
fore the audience, as indicated by the following singular 
direction : — " Then the curtains being drawn, Duke Hum- 
phrey is discovered in his bed, and two men lying on his 
breast, and smothering him in his bed." At the present scene 
the direction in the folio is, " A bed with Gloster's body put 
forth. ' 

93 



Act If I.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene K 



War. See, how the blood is settled in his face ! 
Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, 0. 
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 euemy ; 
Which with the heart there cools, and ne'er re- 

turneth 
To blush and beautify the cheek again. 
But see, his face is black, and full of blood ; 
His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, 
Staring full ghastly like a strangled man : 
His hah - uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with 

struggling ; 
His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp' d 
And tugg'd for life, and was by strength sub- 
dued. 
Look on the sheets, his hair, you see, is stick- 
in o 1 • 

His well-proportion'd beard made rough and 

rugged, 
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. 
Suf. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke 

to death ? 
Myself and Beaufort had him in protection ; 
And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. 

War. But both of you were vow'd duke 

Humphrey's foes ; 
And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep : 
*T is like you would not feast him like a friend ; 
And 't is well seen he found an enemy. 

Q. Mar. Then you, belike, suspect these 

noblemen 
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 't was 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. 

Q. Mar. Are you the butcher, Suffolk; where 's 

your knife ? 
Is Beaufort term'd a kite ; where are Ids talons ? 
Suf. 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 



:i Timely-parted (/host. The word ghost was used some- 
what vaguely by the old writers ; it here undoubtedly means 
a body recently parted from the soul. 

b The adjective bloodless, by a licence of construction, in- 
cludes the substantive— the blood " being all descended," Sec. 
100 



That slanders me with murder's crimson badge : 
Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, 
That I am faulty in duke Humphrey's death. 

[Exeunt Cardinal, Som., and others. 
War. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk 

dare him ? 
Q. Mar. He dares not calm his contumelious 
spirit, 
Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, 
Though Suffolk dare kirn twenty thousand times. 
War. Madam, be still, with reverence may I 
say; 
For every word you speak in his behalf 
Is slander to your royal dignity. 

Suf Blunt-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, aud noble stock 
Was graft with crab-tree slip ; whose fruit thou 

art, 
And never of the Nevils' 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 was 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 ! 

Suf. Thou shalt 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 '11 cope with thee, 
And do. some service to duke Humphrey's ghost. 
[Exeunt Suffolk and Warwick. 
K. Hen. 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 within. 
Q. Mar. What noise is this ? 

lie-enter Suffolk and Warwick, with their 
weapons drawn. 

K. Hen. Why, how now, lords ? your wrath- 
ful weapons drawn 
Here in our presence ? dare you be so bold ? — 
Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here ? 



Act Iir.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



rsci.NE n 



Siif. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of 
Bury, 
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. 

Noise of a crowd within. Re-enter Salisbury. 

Sal. Sirs, stand apart ; the king shall know 
your mind. — [Speaking to those within. 
Dread lord, the commons send you word by me, 
Unless lord Suffolk straight be clone to death, 
Or banished fair England's territories, 
They will by violence tear him from your palace, 
And torture him with grievous ling'ring 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 your 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 sbly glided towards your majesty, 
It were but necessary you were wak'd ; 
Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber, 
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. [Fi'Mk] An answer from the king, 
my lord of Salisbury. 

Suf. 'T is 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 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. 

K. Hen. 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, 



He shall not breathe infection in this air 
But three days longer, on the pain of death. 

[Exit Salisbury. 
Q. Mar. Henry, let me plead for gentle 

Suffolk! 
K. Hen. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle 

Suffolk. 
No more, I say ; if thou dost plead for him 
Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. 
Had I but 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 I am ruler of, 
The world shall not be ransom for thy life. 
Come, Warwick, come good Warwick, go with 

me : 
I have great matters to impart to thee. 

[Exeunt K. Henry, Warwick, Lords, fyc. 
Q. Mar. 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 ! 
Suf. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, 
And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. 

Q. Mar. Fie, coward woman, and soft-hearted 

wretch ! 
Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies ? 
Suf. A plague upon them ! wherefore should 

I curse them ? 
Would 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-fae'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 ! 
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stiugs ! 
Their music frightful as the serpents' hiss ; 
And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! 
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell — 

Q. Mar. Enough, sweet Suffolk ; thou tor- 

ment'st thyself ; 
And these dread curses, like the sun 'gainst 

glass, 

101 



Act III.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



(SCEKK III. 



Or like an overcharged gun, recoil, 

And turn the force of them upon thyself. 

Siif. You bade me ban, and will you bid me 
leave ? 
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. 

Q. Mar. 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, 

[Kisses his hand. 
That thou might'st think upon these by th e seal, 
Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd 

for thee ! 
So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief ; 
'T is but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by, 
As one that surfeits thinking on a want. 
I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd, 
Adventure to be banished myself : 
And banished 1 am, if but from thee. 
Go, speak not to me ; even now be gone. — 
O, go not yet ! — Even thus two friends con- 
demn' d 
Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, 
Loather a hundred times to part than die. 
Yet now farewell ; and farewell life with thee ! 

Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, 
Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. 
'T is not the land I care for, wert thou thence ; 
A wilderness is populous enough, 
So Suffolk had thy heavenly company : 
Eor where thou 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 bfe ; 
Myself no joy in nought, but that thou liv'st. 

Enter Vatjx. 

Q. Mar. Whither goes Vans, so fast ? what 

news, I prithee ? 
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 

air, 
Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. 
Sometime, he talks as if Duke Humphrey's ghost 
Were by his side ; sometime, he calls the king, 
And whispers to his pillow, as to him, 
The secrets of his overcharged soul : 
102 



And I am sent to tell his majesty, 
That even now he cries aloud for him. 

Q. Mar. Go tell this heavy message to the 

king. [Exit Vatjx. 

Ah me ! what is ^this world ? what news are 

these ? 
But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, 
Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure ? 
Why only, Suffolk, niourn I not for thee, 
And with the southern clouds contend in tears ; 
Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my 

sorrows ? 
Now, get thee hence : The king, thou know'st, 



is coming ? 



If thou be found by me thou art but dead. 

Suf. If I depart from thee I cannot live : 
And in thy sight to die, what were it else, 
But like a pleasant slumber iu 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, 8, 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 : 
0, let me stay, befall what may befall. 

Q. Mar. Away ! though parting be a fretful 
corsive, b 
It is applied to a deathful wound. 
To France, sweet Suffolk: Let me hear from thee ; 
For wheresoe'er thou art in this world's globe, 
I '11 have an Iris that shall find thee out. 

Suf. I go. 

Q. Mar. And take my heart with thee. 

Suf. A jewel, lock'd into the woeful' st cask 
That ever did contain a thing of worth. 
Even as a splitted bark, so sunder we ; 
This way fall I to death. 

Q. Mar. This way for me. [Exeunt severally. 

SCENE III.— London. Cardinal Beaufort's 
Bedchamber. 

Enter King Henry, Salisbury, Warwick, and 
others. The Cardinal in bed ; Attendants 
with him. 

K. Hen. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, 
to thy sovereign. 

a Where— for whereas. The words were convertible. See 
Note on Act I. 

b Corsive — corrosive. The word was often spelt and pro- 
nounced cursive. 



Act III.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENEY VI. 



[ScEKE in. 



Car. If thou be'st death, I '11 give thee Eng- 
land's treasure, 
Enough to purchase such another island, 
So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. 

K. Hen. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, 
Where death's approach is seen so terrible ! 

War. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to 
thee. 

Car. Bring me unto my trial when you will. 
Died he not in his bed ? where should he die ? 
Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no ? — 

! torture me no more, I will confess. — 
Alive again ? then show me where he is ; 

1 '11 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 up- 
right, 

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. 



K. Hen. thou eternal Mover of the heavens, 
Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch ! 
0, beat away the busy meddling fiend 
That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, 
And from his bosom purge this black despair ! 
War. See, how the pangs of death do make 

him grin. 
Sal. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. 
K. Hen. 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. 
K. Hen. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners 
all.— 
Close up his eyes, and draw the curtain close ; 
And let us all to meditation. [Exeunt. 




[Bury St Edmund's 1 




[Humphrey, Duke of Gloster.] 



ILLUSTRATION OP ACT III. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION 



We have already noticed the charges which were 
made by his enemies against the Duke of Gloster. 
Hall, whom Holinshed copies, thus proceeds to 
describe his death : — 

" Although the duke (not without great laud and 
praise) sufficiently answered to all things to him ob- 
jected, yet because his death was determined, his 
wisdom little helped, nor his truth smally availed : 
but of this uuquietness of mind he delivered him- 
self, because he thought neither of death, nor of con- 
demnation to die : such affiance had he in his strong 
truth, and such confidence had he in indifferent 
justice. But his capital enemies and mortal foes, 
fearing that some tumult or commotion might arise 
if a prince so well beloved of the people should be 
openly executed and put to death, determined to 
trap and undo him, or he thereof should have know- 
ledge or warning. So, for the furtherance of their 
purpose, a parliament was summoned to be kept at 
Bury, whither resorted all the peers of the realm, 
and amongst them the Duke of Gloster, which, on 
the second day of the session, was by the Lord 
Beaumont, then high constable of England, accom- 
panied by the Duke of Buckingham and other, ar- 
rested, apprehended, and put in ward, and all 
his servants sequestered from him, and xxxii of 
the chief of his retinue were sent to divers prisons, 
to the great admiration of the common people. 
The duke, the night after his imprisonment, was 
found dead in his bed, and his body showed to the 
104 



lords and commons as though he had died of a 
palsy or empostom; but all indifferent persons well 
knew that he died of no natural death, but of some 
violent force." 

The conspiracy which the poet has exhibited in 
the first scene of this act, of the queen, the cardi- 
nal, Suffolk, and York, against the life of Gloster, 
is not borne out by any relation of the chroniclers. 
Indeed it is by no means clear that the duke actu- 
ally did die by violence. The people, no doubt, 
firmly believed that he came to his end by foul 
practices ; and they would naturally associate this 
belief with the suspicion of his avowed enemies. 
Hence, probably, the general tone of the chroni- 
clers. The participation of the queen in the sup- 
posed crime is distinctly stated by Hall ; and he 
suggests, also, the motive by which York might 
have been prompted to remove so able and popu- 
lar a branch of the house of Lancaster as the Duke 
Humphrey. The following passage bears upon both 
points : — 

" There is an old said saw, that a man intending 
to avoid the smoke falleth into the fire : so here 
the queen, minding to preserve her husband in 
honour and herself in authority, procured and con- 
sented to the death of this nobleman, whose only 
death brought to pass that thing which she would 
most fain have eschewed, and took from her that 
jewel which she most desired : for if this duke had 
lived, the Duke of York durst not have made title 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



to the crown : if this duke had lived, the nobles 
had not conspired against the king, nor yet the 
commons had not rebelled : if this duke had lived, 
the house of Lancaster had not been defaced and 
destroyed ; which things happened all contrary by 
the destruction of this good man." 

The banishment of Suffolk took place in 1450, 
three years after the death of Gloster. In the ar- 
ticles against him "proponed by the commons," 
there were many accusations of " treason, mispri- 
sion, and evil demeanour ; " but the murder of the 
Duke of Gloster was not therein imputed to him. 
Hall, indeed, says that the commonalty affirmed 
him to " be the chief procurer of the death of the 
good Duke of Gloster." The protection of the 
queen, " which entirely loved the duke," was for 
some time his safeguard ; but he was finally ba- 
nished by the king, according to Hall, "as the 
abhorred toad and common nuisance of the whole 
realm, for the term of five years." The poet has 
brought events which were separated by consider- 
able intervals of time into a dramatic unity ; and 
he has connected the guilt which was popularly 
attributed to Suffolk with the punishment which 
was demanded by the public hatred of him. 

The death of Cardinal Beaufort is one of those 
scenes of the Shaksperian drama which stand in 
the place of real history, and almost supersede its 
authority. Shakspere, however, found the mea- 



gre outline of this great scene in a passage of 
Hall :— 

" During these doings, Henry Beauford Bishop 
of Winchester, and called the rich cardinal, de- 
parted out of this world, and was buried at Win- 
chester. This man was son to John of Gaunt Duke 
of Lancaster, descended of an honourable lineage, 
but born in baste, more noble of blood than nota- 
ble in learning, haut in stomach and high in coun- 
tenance, rich above measure of all men, and to few 
liberal ; disdainful to his kin and dreadful to his 
lovers, preferring money before friendship, many 
things beginning and nothing performing. His 
covetise insaciable, and hope of long life, made 
him both to forget God, his prince, and himself, 
in his latter days ; for 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 much riches ? 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 balf up 
the wheel ; but when I saw my other nephew of 
Gloster deceased, then I thought myself able to 
be equal with kings, and so thought to increase 
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.' " 




i 



[Cardinal Beaufort.] 



105 






• -J'"'* '■/ »: V 






; ' m«f& 






11 



[Sea-shore near Dover.] 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I.— Kent. The Sea-shore, near Dover. 

Firing heard at sea. Then enter from a boat, a 
Captain, a Master, a Master's-Mate, Walter 
Whitmore, and others ; with them Suffolk, 
and other Gentlemen, prisoners. 
Cap. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful day a 
Is crept into the bosom of the sea ; 
And now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades 
That drag the tragic melancholy night ; h 
Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings 
Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws 
Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. 
Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize ; 
For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, 
Here 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 this ; — 

a These epithets are beautifully chosen. Milton has 
;opied one of them in ' Comus : ' — 

" Ere the blabbing eastern scout, 
The nice morn, on th' Indian steep, 
From her cabin'd loop-hole peep " 
b The jades with flagging wings are the " night's svift 
dragons" of A Midsummer Night's Dream: — 

" For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast." 
106 



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 
thousand crowns, 
And bear the name and port of gentlemen ? — 
Cut both the villains' throats, — for die you 

shall.— 
The lives of those which we have lost in fight 
Be counterpois'd with such a petty sum ? a 
1 Gent. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare 
my life. 



a We follow the reading of the folio. Malone has cor- 
rected the passage as follows • — 

" The lives of those which we have lost in fight 
Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum." 

It appears to us that this emendation greatly weakens the 
force of the passage. Upon the hesitation to pay ransom the 
Captain exclaims, " What, think you much," &c. He then, 
parenthetically, threatens death; and continues his half- 
interrogative sentence, What, " The lives of those which we 
have lost in fight be counterpois'd," &c. 



Act IV.] 



SECOND PAK1" OE KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene I 



2 Gent. And so will I, and write home for it 

straight. 
Whit. I lost mine eye in laying the prize 
aboard, 
And therefore to revenge it shalt thou die ; 

[7b Sot. 
And so should these, if I might have my will. 
Cap. Be not so rash ; take ransom, let him 

live. 
Suf. Look on my George, I am a gentleman ; 
Rate me at what thou wilt thou shalt be paid. 
Whit. And so am I ; my name is Walter 
Whitmore. 
How now ? why start'st thou ? what, doth death 
affright ? 
Suf. 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 Waller, 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. 
Suf. Stay, Whitmore ; for thy prisoner is a 
prince, 
The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. 

Whit. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags ! 

Suf. Ay, but these rags are no part of the duke ; 

[Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I ? b ] 

Cap. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt 

be. 
Suf 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'cl thy hand, and held my 

stirrup ? 
Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule, 
And thought thee happy when I shook my head? 
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 ? 



n In the Incantation Scene in Act i. 'we have this pro- 
phecy : — 

" What fates await the duke of Suffolk? 
By water shail he die, and take his end." 

It appears from this passage that Waller was commonly 
pronounced Water. 

b This line, which is necessary for the understanding of 
what follows, isnot found in the folio. It is introduced from 
" The First Part of the Contention,' &c. 



Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fall'n ; 
Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride : 
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. 

Suf Base slave ! thy words are blunt, and so 
art thou. 

Cup. Convey him hence, and on our long- 
boat's side 
Strike off his head. 

Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy own. 

[Cap. Yes, Poole. 

Suf. Poole ? a ] 

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 month, 
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 shalt grin in vain, 
Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again : 
And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, 
For daring to affy b a mighty lord 
Unto the daughter of a worthless king, 
Having neither subject, 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 Nevils 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, — 



a The passage in brackets is not found in the folio. With- 
out it the point of the dialogue is lost. There can he no 
doubt that it was omitted by a typographical error, for in 
' The First Part of the Contention ' the reading is as fol- 
lows : — 

" Suf. Thou dar'st not for thy own. 
Cap. Yes, Poo e. 
Suf. Poole? 

Cap. Ay, Poole; puddle, kennel sink, and dirt 
l> To affy— to betroth. 

107 



A(T IV.] 



SECOND PARI OF KING HENRY VL 



[SCEKE II. 



Barns with, revenging fire ; whose hopeful colours 

Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine, 

Under the which is writ Invitis nubibus? 

The commons here in Kent, are up in arms : 

And, to conclude, reproach, and beggary, 

Is crept into the palace of our king, 

And all by thee : — Away ! convey him hence. 

S/tf. 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 Ulyrian pirate. b 
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 Trance ; 
I charge thee waft me safely cross the channel. 

Cap. "Walter, — - 

Whit. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy 
death. 

St/. Pene gelidus timor occupat artus : — 'tis 
thee I fear. 

Whit. Thou shalt 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. 

S/tf. 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, aud 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. 

Sttf. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, 
That this my death may never be forgot ! — ■ 
Great men oft die by vile bezonians : ° 
A Roman sworder and banditto slave 
Murder' d sweet Tully ; Brutus' bastard hand 
Stabb'd Julius Caesar ; savage islanders, 
Pompev the great : and Suffolk dies by pirates. 
{Exit Suf., with Whit, and others. 



* This is an allusion lo the device of Edward III., which 
was according to Camden, " the rays of the sun dispersing 
themselves out of a cloud." 

b " Bargulus, lllyrius latro." Ciceronis Officia. Lib. n., 
cap. xi. 

c Bezonian was a term of contempt, of somewhat uncertain 
derivation. Pistol usesit insultingly inHenrylV., Part II.: — 

" Under which king, Bezonian ? speak or die." 

108 



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. 

[Exeunt all but the first Gentleman. 

Re-enter Whitmoee, with Suffolk's body. 

Whit. There let his head and lifeless body lie, 
Until the queen his mistress 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 his friends ; 
So will the queen, that living held him dear. 

[Exit, with the body. 

SCENE II.— Blackheath. 

Enter Geoege 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 clotnier 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. 

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 no 
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. Argo, 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 hi great number. 

Cade. "We John Cade, so termed of our sup- 
posed father. — 



Act IV.] 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 



fSc-EKt II, 



Dick. Or rather, of stealing a cade of herrings."' 

[Aside. 

Cade. — for our enemies shall fall before us, 
inspired with the spirit of putting down kings 
and princes, — Command silence. 

Dick. Silence ! 

Cade. My father was a Mortimer, — 

Dick. He was an honest man, and a good 
bricklayer. [Aside. 

Cade. My mother a Plantagenet, — 

Dick. I knew her well, she was a midwife. 

[Aside. 

Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies, — ■ 

Dick. She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, 
and sold many laces. [Aside. 

Smith. But, now of late, not able to travel with 
her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. 

[Aside. 

Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. 

Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honour- 
able ; and there was he born, under a hedge ; 
for his father had never a house but the cage. 

[Aside. 

Cade. Valiant I am. 

Smith. 'A must needs ; for beggary is valiant. 

[Aside. 

Cade. I am able to endure much. 

Dick. No question of that ; for I have seen him 
whipped three market days together. [Aside. 

Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. 

Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his 
coat is of proof. [Aside. 

Dick. But methinks he should stand in fear 
of fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of 
sheep. [Aside. 

Cade. Be brave then ; for your captain is brave, 
and vows reformation. There shall be, in Eng- 
land, seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny : 
the three-hooped 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. And, when I am 
king, (as king I will be) 

All. 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, 
tliat they may agree like brothers, and worship 
me their lord. 

Dick. The first thing we do, let 's kill all the 
lawyers. 

Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a 
lamentable thing, that of the skin of an innocent 

1 A cade of herrings, according to an old monastic account, 
Is a cask containing somewhat more than half a barrel. 



lamb should be made parchment? that parch 
ment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man 
Some say the bee stings : but I say 't is 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 ? 

Enter some, bringing in the Clerk of Chatham. 

Smith. The clerk of Chatham : he can write 
and read, and cast accompt. 

Cade. monstrous ! 

Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies. 

Cade. Here 's a villain ! 

Smith. H' as a book in his pocket with red 
letters in 't. 

Cade. Nay, then he is a conjurer. 

Dick. Nay, he can make obligations, and 
write court-hand. 

Cade. I am sorry for 't : the man is a proper 
man, of mine honour ; unless I find him guilty 
he shall not die. — Come hither, sirrah, I must 
examine thee : What is thy name ? 

Clerk. Emmanuel. 

Dick. They use to write it on the top of let- 
ters ; — 'T will 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 r 

Clerk. Sir, I thank God I have been so well 
brought up that I can write my name. 

All. He hath confessed : away with him ; 
he 's a villain and a traitor. 

Cade. Away with him, I say : haug him with 
his pen and inkhorn about his neck. 

[_Exeunt some with the Clerk. 

Enter Michael. 

. Mich. Where 's our general ? 

Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow. 

Mich. Ely, 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 encountered with a man as 
good as himself : He is but a knight, is 'a ? 

Mich. No. 

Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a 
knight presently : Eise up sir John Mortimer 
Now have at him. 

Enter Sir Humphrey Staitokd, and William 
his brother, with drum and Forces. 
Slaf. Eebellious 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. 

109 



Act IV.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene J II. 



IF. Staf. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to 
blood, 
If you go forward: Therefore yield, or die. 

Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass 
not; 
It is to you, good people, that I speak, 
Over whom, in time to come, I hope to reign ; 
For I am rightful heir unto the crown. 

Staf. Villain, thy father was a plasterer ; 
And thou thyself a shearman, art thou not ? 

Cade. And Adam was a gardener. 

IF. Staf. And what of that ? 

Cade. Marry this : — Edmund Mortimer, earl 
of March, 
Married the duke of Clarence' daughter : — Did 
he not ? 

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, 
't is true : 
The elder of them, being put to nurse, 
"Was by a beggar-woman stolen 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's 
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. 

IF. Staf Jack Cade, the duke of York hath 
taught you this. 

Cade. He lies, for I invented it myself. [Aside. 
— Go to, sirrah : Tell the king from me, that, for 
his father's sake, Henry the Fifth, in whose time 
boys went to span-counter for French crowns, I 
am content he shall reign ; but I '11 be protector 
over him. 

Dick. And, furthermore, we'll have the lord 
Say's head, for selling the dukedom of Maine. 

Cade. And good reason, for thereby is Eng- 
land mained, a and fain to go with a staff, but 
that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kiugs, I 
tell you, that that lord Say hath gelded the com- 
monwealth, and made it an eunuch : and more 
than that, he can speak French, and therefore 
he is a traitor. 



a So the folio, injudiciously corrected tc maimed 
a\iine ( " being a provincial word for to lame. 

110 



To 



Staf. gross and miserable ignorance ! 

Cade. Nay, answer, if you can: The French- 
men are our enemies : go to then. I ask but 
this, — can he that speaks with the tongue of an 
enemy be a good counsellor, or no ? 

All. No, no ; and therefore we '11 have hi? 
head. 

IF. Staf. Well, seeing gentle words will net 
prevail, 
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 hi 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 ttco Staffords, and Forces. 

Cade. And you that love the commons follow 
me. 
Now show yourselves men, 't is 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. 

SCENE III.— Another Part o/Blackheath. 

Alarum. The two parties enter and fight, and 
both the Staffokds 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 reward thee, — The Lent shall be as 
long again as it is ; and thou shalt have a licence 
to kill for a hundred lacking one. a 

Dick. I desire no more. 

Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservest no 
less. This monument of the victory will I bear ; b 
and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse' 
heels, till I do come to London, where we will 
have the mayor's sword borne before us. 

a Malone reads, "for a hundred lacking one, a week." 
Malone's addition is warranted by the text of ' The First 
Part of the Contention.' The licence to kill beasts during 
Lent was one of the ancient modes of favouritism. 

t> A passage in Holinshed explains this : " Jack Cade, 
upon his victory against the Staifords, apparelled himself 
in sir Humphrey's brigandine, set full of gilt nails." 



Acr IV.l 



SECOND PART OF KINO HENRY VI. 



[Scenes IV., V. 



Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good, break 
open the gaols, 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, mourn- 
ing over Suffolk's head. 

Q. Mar. 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 ? 
Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast ; 
But where 's the body that I should embrace ? 

Buck. What answer makes your grace to the 
rebels' supplication ? 

K. Hen. I '11 send some holy bishop to en- 
treat : 
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 '11 read it over once again. 

Q. Mar. Ah, barbarous villains ! hath this 
lovely face 
llul'd, like a wandering planet, over me : 
And could it not enforce them to relent, 
That were unworthy to behold the same ? 
K. Hen. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to 

have thy head. 
Sag. Ay, but I hope your highness shall have 

his. 
K. Hen. How now, madam ? 
Still lamenting, aud mourning for Suffolk's 

death ? 
I fear me, love, a if that I had been dead, 
Thou wouldest not have mourned so much for me. 
Q. Mar. No, my love, I should not mourn, 
but die for thee. 

Enter a Messenger. 

K. Hen. How now ! what news ! why com'st 

thou in such haste ? 
Mess. The rebels are in Southwark. Ely, my 
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. 



n / fear me, love. So the folio, 
printed, I fear, my love. 



This had been usually 



His army is a ragged multitude 
Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless : 
Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother's dcatli 
Hath given them heart and courage to proceed ; 
-A 11 scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, 
They call false caterpillars, and intend their 
death. 
K. Hen. graceless men ! they know not what 

they do. 
Buck. My gracious lord, retire to Killing- 
worth, a 
Until a power be rais'd to put them down. 
Q. Mar. Ah ! were the duke of Suffolk now 
alive, 
These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd. 

K. Hen. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee, 
Therefore away with us to Killingworth. 

Sag. So might your grace's person be in dan - 
ger : 
The sight of me is odious in then - 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. 
K. Hen. Come, Margaret ; God, our hope, 

will succour us. 
Q. Mar. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is de- 

ceas'd. 
A'. Hen. Farewell, my lord ; [to Lord Say.] 

trust not the Kentish rebels. 
Buck. Trust nobody, for fear you be betray'd. 
Sag. The trust 1 have is in mine innocence, 
And therefore am 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 ; lor 
they have won the bridge, killing all those that 
withstand them : The lord mayor craves aid of 
your honour from the Tower, to defend the city 
from the rebels. 

Scales. Such aid as I can spare you shall 
command ; 



a Killingworth. This is the old orthography of KeniU 
worth, and is still the local pronunciation. 

Ill 



Act IV. J 



SECOND PAET OE KING HENEY VI. 



[SctNES VI., VII. 



But I am troubled here with them myself : 
The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower. 
But get you to Smithfield, aud gather head, 
And thither I will send you Matthew Gough : 
Fight for your king, your country, and your 

lives; 
And so farewell, for I must hence again. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI. — The same. Cannon-street. 

Enter Jack Cade, and his Followers. He strikes 
his staff on London-stone. 

Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. 
And here, sitting upon London-stone, I charge 
and command, 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 that calls me other than lord 
Mortimer. 

Enter a Soldier running. 

Sold. Jack Cade ! Jack Cade ! 

Cade. Knock him down there. [They kill him. 

Smith. If this fellow be wise, he '11 never call 
you Jack Cade more : I think he hath a very 
fair warning. 

Dick. My lord, there's an army gathered to- 
gether in Smithfield. 

Cade. Come then, let 's go fight with them : 
But, first, go and set London-bridge on fire; 
and, if you can, burn down the Tower too. 
Come, let 's away. [Exeunt. 

SCENE Nil.— The same. Smithfield. 

Alarum. Enter, on one side, Cade and his com- 
pany ; on the other, Citizens, and the King's 
Forces, headed by Matthew Gougii. They 
fight ; the Citizens are routed, and Matthew 
Gougii is slain. 

Cade. So, sirs : — Now go some and pull down 
the Savoy ; 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. 

John. Mass, 't will be sore law then ; for he 
was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 't is 
not whole yet. [Aside. 

Smith. Nay, John, it will be stinking law ; 

for his breath stinks with eating toasted cheese. 

[Aside. 
112 



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. 

John. Then we are like to have biting statutes, 
unless his teeth be pull'd out. [Aside. 

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, and 
one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy. 

Enter Geokge Bevis, with the Lokd Say. 

Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten 
times. — Ah, thou say, thou serge, nay, thou 
buckram lord ! now art thou within point blank 
of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou an- 
swer 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 Mortimer, 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 fore- 
fathers had no other books but the score and the 
tally, thou hast caused printing to be used ; and, 
contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, 
thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved 
to thy face, that thou 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 men 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 hanged them; when, indeed, 
only for that cause they have been most worthy 
to live. Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth, dost 
thou not ? 

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 ; 'T is bona terra, mala 
gens. 

Cade. Away with him, away with him ! he 
speaks Latin. 

Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me where 
you will. 



Act IV.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SlENZ VII. 



Kent, in the Commentaries Caesar writ, 
Is term'd the civil'st 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 ? 
Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you, a 
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. 1 ' 
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 struck'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. 

Geo. O monstrous coward! what, to come 
behind folks ? 

Say. These cheeks are pale for watching c 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 
causes 
Hath made me full of sickness and diseases. 

Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, 
and the pap of hatchet. d 

Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man ? 

a We follow the original punctuation in making Say un- 
conditionally ask — 

" When have I aught exacted at your hands 1 " 
He then goes on to say that, for the good of all, he has en- 
couraged learned men. Instead of "Kent to maintain," 
Johnson proposes to read "But to maintain," which has been 
recently adopted without a sufficient regard, we think, to the 
context. " Kent to maintain," is Say's answer to "What 
say you of Kent? " 

b This is usually pointed so as to close the sentence at 
" preferr'd me to the king." He not only bestowed gifts on 
learned clerks because his own book had preferred him, but 
from a general conviction that ignorance is the curse of God, 
&c. This declaration has little connexion with the exhorta- 
tion not to murder him. 

c For watching — in consequence of watching. 

d This is " help of hatchet" in the original text. In Stee- 
vens' edition, we first read, upon the suggestion of Farmer, 
" the pap of a hatchet." There is every reason to think that 
the correction is right. " Candle of hemp " and " pap of 
hatchet" were to cure Say's "sicknessand diseases," accord- 
ing to Cade's prescription. We have no authority for the 
phrase " hempen caudle ; " but there is no doubt that "pap 
of hatchet " was a common cant phrase. Lyly's pamphlet, 
so celebrated in the history of controversy, bears this title : 
' Pap with an hatchet; alias, a fig for my godson ; or, crack 
me this nut ; or, a country cuff; that is, a soundbox of the 
ear, et caetera.' 

Histories. — Vol. II. I 



Say. The palsy, and not fear, provokes me. 

Cade. Nay, he nods at us ; as who should 
say, I'll be even with you. 1 '11 see if his head 
will stand steadier on a pole, or no : Take him 
away, and behead 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, 3 ' 
This breast from harbouring foul deceitful 

thoughts. 
0, let me live ! 

Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words : 
but I '11 bridle it ; he shall die, an it be but for 
pleading so well for his life. Away with him ! 
he has a familiar under his tongue ; he speaks 
not o' God's name. Go, take him away, I say, 
and strike off his head presently ; and then 
break into his son-in-law's house, sir James 
Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them 
both upon two poles hither. 

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 soids ? 
And therefore yet relent, and save my life. 

Cade. Away with him, and do as I command 
ye. [Exeunt some, with Lord Say.] The proud- 
est 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 
hold of me in capite ; and we charge and com- 
mand that their wives be as free as heart can 
wish, or tongue can tell. 

Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheap- 
side, and take up commodities upon our bills ? l 

Cade. Marry, presently. 

All. brave ! 

Re-enter Rebels, with the heads of Lord Say and 
his Son-in-law. 

Cade. But is not this braver ? — Let them kiss 
one another, for they loved well when they were 
alive. Now part them again, lest they consult 
about the giving up of some more towns in 



a This inverted phrase is somewhat difficult. It means, 
" These hands are free from shedding guiltless blood." 

b Upon our bills. — This is an equivoque. TheSiV/sofCade 
were not bills of debt (as bonds for the payment of money, 
executed in the simplest form, were anciently called), but 
the broum bills of the rabble soldiery. 

113 



Acr IV.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. [Scmm Yin., n. 



France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of thw city 
until night : for with these borne before us, 
instead of maces, will we ride through the streets ; 
and, at every comer, have them kiss. — Away ! 

[Exeunt- 

SCENE VIII.— Southwark. 

Alarum. Enter Cade, and all his Babblement. 

Cade. Up Fish-street! down St Magnus' 
corner ! kill and knock down ! throw them into 
Thames ! — [A parley sounded, then a retreat.'] 
What noise is 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 
disturb thee : 
Kdow, Cade, we come ambassadors from the 

king 
Unto the commons, whom 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, whilst, 't is offer'd you ; 
Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths ? 
Who loves the kiug, and will embrace his pardon, 
Fling up his cap, and say — God save his ma- 
jesty ! 
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. 
All. God save the king ! God save the king ! 
Cade. What, Buckingham, and Clifford, are 
ye so brave ? — And you, base peasants, do ye 
believe him? will you needs be hanged with 
your pardons about your necks ? Hath my sword 
therefore broke through London gates, that you 
should leave me at the White Hart in South- 
wark? I thought ye would never have given 
out these arms, till you had recovered your an- 
cient freedom : but you are all recreants and 
dastards; and delight to live in slavery to the 
nobility. Let them break your backs with bur- 
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 curse light upon you all ! 
All. we '11 follow Cade, wc '11 follow Cade. 
Clif. Is Cade the son of Henry the fifth, 
That thus you do exclaim you '11 go with him ? 
Will he conduct you through the heart of France, 
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes ? 
114 



Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to ; 
Nor knows he how to live but by the spoil, 
Unless by robbing of your friends, and us. 
Were 't not a shame that whilst you live at jar, 
The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, 
Should make a start o'er seas, and vanquish you ? 
Methinks, already, in this civil broil, 
I see them lording it in London streets, 
Crying — Viliaco /" unto all they meet. 
Better ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry, 
Than you should stoop unto aFrenchman'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 together to surprise me : my sword 
make way for me, for here is no staying. — In 
despite of the devils and hell, have through the 
very middest 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 ? go some, and follow 
him ; 
And he that brings his head unto the king 
Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward. — 
Follow me, soldiers ; we '11 devise a mean 
To reconcile you all unto the king. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IX.— Killingworth Castle. 

Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and 

SomeEset, on the terrace of the Castle. 
K. Hen. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly 
throne, 
And could command no more content than 1 ? 
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 ma- 
jesty ! 
K. lien. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor 
Cade surpris'd ? 
Or is he but retir'd to make him strong ? 

a Viliaco. The folio has Villiago. Florio interprets the 
Italian word as a rascal, &c. 



Act IV.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene .X 



Enter, below, a great number of Cade's followers, 
with halters about their necks, 

Clif. He's fled, my lord, and all Lis powers 
do yield ; 
And humbly thus, with halters on then necks, 
Expect your highness' doom, of life or death. 

K. Hen. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlast- 
ing gates, 
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise ! — 
Soldiers, this day have you redeem' d your lives, 
And show'd how well yon 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 ; 
And so, with thanks, and pardon to you all, 
I do dismiss you to your 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," 
Is marching hitherward in proud array ; 
And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, 
His arms are only to remove from thee 
The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. 
K. Hen. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade 

and York distress' d ; 
Like to a ship, that, having scap'd a tempest, 
Is straightway calm'd and boarded with a pirate : 
But now b is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd ; 
And now is York in arms to second him. 
I pray thee, Buckingham, go forth 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. 

Som. My lord, 
I '11 yield myself to prison willingly, 
Or unto death, to do my country good. 

K. Hen. 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 
As all things shall redound unto your good. 



» The mention of these soldiery occurs again in Macbeth 
(Act i., Sc. ii.). In the ' Mirror for Magistrates ' they are 
described as giving no quarter : — 

" The Gallowglas, the Kerne, 
Yield or not yield, whom so they take they slay." 
b But now— just now. 

12 



K. Hen. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to 
govern better ; 
T'or 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 lay'd 
for me. But now am I so hungry that if 3 
might have a lease of my life for a thousand 
years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on 
a brick- wall have I climbed into this garden ; to 
see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another 
while, which is not amiss to cool a man's sto- 
mach this hot weather. And I think this word 
sallet was born to do me good : for, many a 
time, but for a sallet a my brain-pan had been 
cleft with a brown bill ; and, many a time, when 
I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath 
served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in : 
And now the word sallet b must serve me to feed 
on. 

Enter Iden, with Servants. 

Hen. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the 
court, 
And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? 
This small inheritance my father left me 
Contenteth me, and 's worth a monarchy. 
I seek not to wax great by others' waning ; 
Or gather wealth I care not with what envy ; 
Suffieeth 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 with- 
out leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and 
get a thousand crowns of the king by 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, whatso'er thou 
be, 
I know thee not: Why. then should I betray 

thee? 
Is 't not enough to break into my garden, 
And, like a thief, to come to 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 



a Sallet, or sallad— a helmet; from the Spanish cclacla, so 
called, according to Du Cange, because the soldier who wears 
it celelur. Chaucer used the word. 

b Sallet, or salad— a. herb which is eaten salted— saluda. 

115 



ACT IV.] 



SECOND PAET OF KINO HENRY VI. 



[Scene X. 



ever was broach'd, and beard thee too. Look 
on me well : I have eat no meat these five days : 
yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not 
leave you all as dead as a door nail, I pray God 
I may never eat grass more. 
Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while Eng- 
land stands, 
That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, 
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. 
Oppose thy stedfast gazing eyes on 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, 
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-boned clown in 
chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I 
beseech Jove on my knees thou mayest be turned 
to hobnails. [They fghl. Cade falls.'] O, I am 
slain ! famine, and no other, hath slain me : let 
ten thousand devds come against mc, and give 



me but the ten meals I have lost, and I 'd defy 
them all. Wither, garden ; and be henceforth 
a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house, 
because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled. 
Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that mon- 
strous traitor? * 
Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, 
And hang tbee o'er my tomb, when I am dead : 
Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy poiut ; 
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat, 
To emblaze the honour that thy master got. 

Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy 
victory : Tell Kent from me she hath lost her 
best man, and exhort all the world to be cow- 
ards ; for I, that never feared any, am van- 
quished by famine, not by valour. [Dies. 
Iden. How much thou wrongst 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, I 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. 

[Exit, dragging </ut the body. 







te£ 




[London Stone. J 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT IV. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



Tue extraordinary circumstances attending the 
execution, or more properly murder, of the Duke of 
Suffolk are very briefly given by the chroniclers. 
Holinshed, in the following passage, copies Hall 
with little variation : — 

" But God's justice would not that so ungracious 
a person should so escape ; for when he shipped in 
Suffolk, intending to transport himself over into 
France, he was encouutered with a ship of war ap- 
pertaining to the Duke of Excester, constable of 
the Tower of London, called the Nicholas of the 
Tower. The captain of that bark with small fight 
entered into the duke's ship, and, perceiving his per- 
son present, brought him to Dover road, and there 
on one side of a cock-boat caused his head to be 
stricken off, and left his body with the head lying 
there on the sands; which corpse, being there found 
by a chaplain of his, was conveyed to Wingfield 
College, in Suffolk, and there buried. This end had 
William de la Poole Duke of Suffolk, as men judge 
by God's providence, for that he had procured the 
death of that good duke of Gloster, as before is 
partly touched." 

The most circumstantial account of this event is 
to be found in the Paston Correspondence in one 
of the letters in that most curious and interesting 
collection, dated the fifth of May, 1450, and written 
immediately after the occurrence :— 

" Right worshipful Sir, — I recommend me to you, 
and am right sorry of that I shall say, and have so 
washed this little bill with sorrowful tears, that 



scarcely ye shall read it. As on Monday next 
after May-day (4th May) there came tidings to 
London that on Thursday before (30th April) the 
Duke of Suffolk came unto the coasts of Kent full 
near Dover, with his two ships and a little spinner; 
the which spinner he sent with certain letters by 
certain of his trusted men unto Calais-ward to 
know how he should he received, and with him met 
a ship called Nicholas of the Tower, with other 
ships waiting on him, and by them that were in the 
spinner the master of the Nicholas had knowledge 
of the duke's coming. When he espied the duke's 
ships he sent full his boat to weet what they were, 
and the duke himself spoke to them, and said he 
was, by the king's commandment, sent to Calais- 
ward, &c. ; and they said he must speak with their 
master; and so he, with two or three of his men, 
went forth with them in their boat to the Nicholas 
and when he came the master bade him Welcome 
traitor, as men say. And further, the master de- 
sired to weet if the shipmen would hold with the 
duke, and they sent word they would not in no 
wise ; and so he was in the Nicholas till Saturday 
next following. Some say he wrote much things to 
be delivered to the king, but that is not verily 
known ; some say he had his confessor with him, 
&c. ; and some say he was arraigned in the ship in 
their manner, upon the impeachments, and found 
guilty, &c. 

" Also he asked the name of the ship, and when 
he knew it ho remembered Stacy, that said, if he 

117 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT IV. 



might escape the danger of the Tower he would be 
safe ; and then his heart failed him, for he thought 
he was deceived. And in the sight of all his men 
he was drawn out of the great ship into the boat, 
and there was an axe and a stock ; and one of the 
lewdest of the ship bade him lay down his head, and 
he should be fairly ferd (dealt) with, and die on a 
sword ; and took a rusty sword and smote oft his 
head within half a dozen strokes, and took away his 
gown of russet, and his doublet of velvet mailed, and 
laid his body on the sands of Dover, and some say 
his head was set on a pole by it, and his men set 
on the land, by great circumstance and prey. And 
the sheriff of Kent doth watch the body, and sent his 
under-sheriff to the judges to weet what to do ; and 
also to the king, what shall be done. Further I 
wot not ; but thus far is it, if the process be errone- 
ous let his counsel reverse it," &c. 

The other scenes of this act are almost wholly 
occupied with the insurrection of Cade. In the 
principal events the poet has pretty exactly fol- 
lowed the chroniclers ; but the vigorous delineation 
of character is entirely his own. The narrative of 
Holinshed is copied almost literally from that of 
Hall, with the introduction, however, of several 
state papers not given by the elder chronicler. The 
story is told by Hall with great spirit; and we give 
it entire to show with what wonderful power Shak- 
spere seized upon these materials to work them up 
into a representation, universally and permanently 
true, of the folly aud injustice which invariably at- 
tend every attempt to redress public grievances by 
popular violence : — ' 

" A certain young man of a goodly stature and 
pregnant wit was enticed to take upon him the 
name of John Mortimer, although his name was 
John Cade, and not for a small policy, thinking 
that by that surname the line and lineage of the 
assistant house of the Earl of March, which were no 
small number, should be to him both adherent and 
favourable. This captain, not only suborned by 
teachers, but also enforced by privy schoolmasters, 
assembled together a great company of tall person- 
ages; assuring them that their attempt was both 
honourable to God and the king, aud also profitable 
to the commonwealth, promising them, that if either 
by force or policy they might once take the king, 
the queen, and other their counsellors, into their 
hands and governance, that they would honourably 
entreat the king, and so sharply handle his counsel- 
lors, that neither fifteens should hereafter be de- 
manded, nor once any impositions or tax should be 
spoken of. These persuasions, with many other fair 
promises of liberty (which the common people more 
affect and desire, rather than reasonable obedience 
and due conformity), so animated the Kentish peo- 
ple, that they, with their captain above named, in 
good order of battle (not in great number) came 
to the plain of Blackheath, between Eldham and 
Greenwich. And to the intent that the cause of 
this glorious captain's coming thither might be 
shadowed from the king and his counsel, he sent 
to him an humble supplication, with loving words 
but witli malicious intent, affirming his coming not 
to be against him, but against divers of his counsel, 
lovers of themselves and oppressors of the poor 
commonalty, flatterers to the king and enemies to 
his honour, suckers of his purse and robbers of his 
subjects, partial to their friends and extreme to 
113 



their enemies, for rewards corrupted and for indif- 
ferency nothing doing. This proud bill was both 
of the king and his counsel disdainfully taken, and 
thereupon great consultation had, and after long 
debating it was concluded that such proud rebels 
should rather be suppressed and tamed with vio- 
lence and force than with fair words or amicable 
answer : whereupon the king assembled a great 
army and marched toward them, which had lyen 
on Blackheath by the space of vii days. The 
subtil captain, named Jack Cade, intending to 
bring the king farther within the compass of his 
net, brake up his camp, and retired backward to 
the town of Sevenoaks, in Kent, and there, expect- 
ing his prey, encamped himself and made his 
abode. The queen, which bare the rule, being of 
his retreat well advertised, sent Sir Humphrey Staf- 
ford, knight, and William his brother, with many 
other gentlemen, to follow the chase of the Kentish- 
men, thinking that they had fled ; but verily they 
were deceived ; for at the first skirmish both the 
Staffords were slain, and all their company shame- 
fully discomforted. The king's army, being at this 
time come to Blackheath, hearing of this discom- 
fiture, began to grudge and murmur amongst 
themselves ; some wishing the Duke of York at 
home to aid the captain his cousin ; some desiring 
the overthrow of the king and his counsel ; other 
openly crying out on the queen and her complices. 
This rumour, openly spoken and commonly pub- 
lished, caused the king, and certain of his counsel, 
not led by favour nor corrupted by rewards (to the 
intent to appease the furious rage of the inconstant 
multitude), to commit the Lord Say, Treasurer of 
England, to the Tower of London ; and if other, 
against whom like displeasure was borne, had been 
present, they had likewise been served : but it was 
necessary that one should suffer rather than ail the 
nobility then should perish. When the Kentish cap- 
tain, or the covetous Cade, had thus obtained vic- 
tory and slain the two valiant Staffords, he appa- 
relled himself in their rich armour, and so with 
pomp and glory returned again toward London ; 
in which retreat, divers idle and vagabond persons 
resorted to him from Sussex and Surrey, and from 
other parts, to a great number. Thus this glorious 
captain, compassed about and environed with a 
multitude of evil, rude, and rustic persons, came 
again to the plain of Blackheath, and there strongly 
encamped himself : to whom were sent by the king 
the Archbishop of Canterbury and Humphrey Duke 
of Buckingham, to commune with him of his griefs 
and requests. These lords found him sober in com- 
munication, wise in disputing, arrogant in heart, 
and stiff in his opinion, and by no ways possible 
to be persuaded to dissolve his army, except the 
king in person would come to him and assent to 
all things which he would require. These lords, per- 
ceivingthe wilful pertinacy and manifest contumacy 
of this rebellious Javelin, departed to the king, de- 
claring to him his temerarious and rash words and 
presumptuous requests. The king, somewhat hear- 
ing and more marking the sayings of this out- 
ragious losel, and having daily i-eport of the con- 
course and access of people which continually 
resorted to him, doubting as much his familiar ser- 
vants as his unknown subjects (which spared not to 
speak that the captain's cause was profitable for the 
commonwealth), departed in all haste to the castle of 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 



Killingworth, in Warwickshire, leaving only behind 
him the Lord Scales, to keep the Tower of London. 
The captain, being advertised of the king's absence, 
came first into Southwark, and there lodged at the 
White Hart, prohibiting to all men murder, rape, 
or robbery ; by which colour he allured to him the 
hearts of the common people. But after that he 
entered into London, and cut the ropes of the draw- 
bridge, striking his sword on London stone, saying, 
' Now is Mortimer lord of this city,' and rode in 
every street like a lordly captain. And after a flatter- 
ing declaration made to the mayor of the city of his 
thither coming, he departed again into .Southwark. 
And upon the third day of July he caused Sir James 
Fines, Lord Say, and Treasurer of England, to be 
brought to the Guildhall of London, and there to 
be arraigned ; which, being before the king's justices 
put to answer, desiued to be tried by his peers, for 
the longer delay of his life. The captain, perceiving 
his dilatory plea, by force took him from the officers 
and brought him to the standard in Cheap, and 
there, before his confession ended, caused his head 
to be cut off, and pitched it on a high pole, which 
was openly borne before him through the streets. 
And this cruel tyrant, not content with the murder 
of the Lord Say, went to Mile-end, and there appre- 
hended Sir James Cromer, then Sheriff of Kent, and 
son-in-law to the said Lord Say, and him, without 
confession or excuse heard, caused there likewise to 
be beheaded, and his head fixed on a pole, and with 
these two heads this bloody butcher entered into 
the city agaiu, and in despite caused them in every 
street kiss together, to the great detestation of all 
the beholders. 

"After this shameful murder succeeded open 
rapine and manifest robbery in divers houses within 
the city, and in especial in the house of Philip 
Malpas, alderman of London, and divers other : 
over and beside ransoming and fining of divers 
notable merchants, for the tuition and security of 
their lives and goods ; as Robert Home, alderman, 
which paid v C maiks, and yet neither he or no 
other person was either of life or substance in a 
surety or safeguard. He also put to execution in 
Southwark, divers persons, some for infringing his 
rules and precepts, because he would be seen indif- 
ferent ; other he tormented of his old acquaintance, 
lest they should blase and declare his base birth 
and low lineage, disparaging him from his usurped 
name of Mortimer ; for the which he thought, and 
doubted not, both to have friends and fautors both 
in London, Kent, and Essex. The wise mayor and 
sage magistrates of the city of London, perceiving 
themselves neither to be sure of goods nor of life 
well wai-ranted, determined with fear to repell and 
expulse this mischievous head and his ungracious 
company. And because the Lord Scales was or- 
dained keeper of the Tower of London, with Mathew 
Gough, the often-named captain in Normandy (as 
you have heard before), they purposed to make 
them privy both of their intent and enterprise. The 
Lord Scales promised them his aid, with shooting of 
ordinance ; and Mathew Gough was by him ap- 
pointed to assist the mayor and the Londoners, 
because he was both of manhood and experience 
greatly renowned and noised. So the captains of 
the city appointed took upon them in the night to 
keep the bridge of London, prohibiting the Kentish- 
men either to pass or approach. The rebels, which 



never soundly slept for fear of sudden chances, 
hearing the bridge to be kepit and manned, ran with 
great haste to open their passage, where between 
both parties was a fierce and cruel encounter. 
Mathew Gough, more expert in martial feats than 
the other chieftains of the city, perceiving the Kent- 
ishmen better to stand to their tackling than his 
imagination expected, advised his company no 
further to proceed toward Southwark till the day 
appeared ; to the intent that the citizens, hearing 
where the place of the jeopardy rested, might 
occur their enemies and relieve their friends and 
companions. But this counsel came to small effect, 
for the multitude of the rebels drove the citizens 
from the stoulps at the bridge foot to the draw- 
bridge, and began to set fire in divers houses. 
Alas ! what sorrow it was to behold that miserable 
chance ; for some, desiring to eschew the fire, 
leapt on his enemy's weapon, and so died : fearful 
women, with children in their arms, amazed and 
appalled, leapt into the river ; other, doubting 
how to save themselves between fire, water, and 
sword, were in their houses suffocated and smoul- 
dered. Yet the captains, nothing regarding these 
chances, fought on the drawbridge all the night 
valiantly ; but, in conclusion, the rebels got the 
drawbridge, and drowned many, and slew John 
Sutton, alderman, and Robert Heysand, a hardy 
citizen, with many other, beside Matthew Gough, 
a man of great wit, much experience in feats 
of chivalry, the which in continual wars had 
valiantly served the king and his father in the part 
beyond the sea (as before ye have heard). But 
it is often seen that he which many times had 
vanquished his enemies in strange countries, and 
returned again as a conqueror, hath of his own 
nation afterward been shamefully murdered and 
brought to confusion. This hard and sore conflict 
endured on the bridge till ix of the clock in the 
morning, in doubtful chance and fortune's balance. 
For some time the Londoners were beat back to 
the stoulps at Saint Magnes corner, and suddenly 
again the rebels were repulsed and driven back 
to the stoulps in Southwark ; so that both parties, 
being faint, weary, and fatigued, agreed to desist 
from fight, and to leave battle till the next day, 
upon conditiou that neither Londoners should pass 
into Southwark nor the Kentishmen into London. 
" After this abstinence of war agreed, the lusty 
Kentish captain, hoping on more friends, brake 
up the gaols of the King's Bench and Marshalsea, 
and set at liberty a swarm of galants, both meet 
for his service and apt for his enterprise. The 
Archbishop of Canterbury, being then Chancellor 
of England, and for his surety lying in the Tower 
of London, called to him the Bishop of Winchester, 
which also for fear lurked at Halywell. These 
two prelates, seeing the fury of the Kentish people, 
by reason of their beating back, to be mitigated and 
minished, passed the river of Thames from the 
Tower into Southwark, bringing with them, under 
the king's seal, a general pardon unto all the of- 
fenders; which they caused to be openly proclaimed 
and published. Lord ! how glad the poor people 
were of this pardon (yea, more than of the great 
Jubilee of Rome), and how they accepted the same, 
in so much that the whole multitude, without bid- 
ding farewell to their captain, retired the same 
night, every man to his own home, as men amazed 

119 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT IV. 



and stricken with fear. But John Cade, desperate 
of succours, which by the friends of the Duke of 
York were to him promised, and seeing his company 
thus without his knowledge suddenly depart, mis- 
trusting the sequel of the matter, departed secretly, 
in habit disguised, into Susses ; but all his meta- 
morphosis and transfiguration little prevailed, for 
after a proclamation made that whosoever could 
apprehend the said Jack Cade should have for his 
pain a M marks, many sought for him but few 
espied him, till one Alexander Iden, esquire of 
Kent, found him in a garden, and there, in his de- 
fence, manfully slew the caitiff Cade, and brought 
his dead body to London, whose head was set on 
London bridge." 

We may add that the following curious entry 
ib found in the Issue Roll, 29th Henry VI. : — 



" To Alexander Eden, Sheriff of Kent, and 
to divers other persons of the same county. 
In money paid to them, viz., by the hands 
of Gerrase Clifton, 100?. and by John Seynder, 
166/. 13s. 4c?., in part payment of 1000 marks, 
which the Lord the King commanded to be 
paid to the same Alexander and others, as well 
for taking John Cade, an Irishman, calling 
himself John Mortymer, a great rebel, enemy, and 
traitor to the King, as also for conducting the 
person of John Cade to the Council of the 
King, after proclamation thereof made in London, 
to be had of his gift for their pains in the matter 
aforesaid. 

"By writ of privy seal amongst the mandates 
of this term (Easter), 266?. 13s. 4c?." 




[Ancient View of a Street in Southwark.] 




!■ j.JAtKSON-b' 

[Relwecn Dartford and Blackheath.J 



ACT V. 



SCENE I.— The same. Fields between Dart- 
ford and Blackhcath. 

The King's Camp on one side. On the other, 
enter York attended, with drum and colours : 
his Forces at some distance. 

York. From Ireland thus conies 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 woidd 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. 



A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul/ 

On which I '11 toss the fleur-deduce of France. 

Enter Buckingham. 

Whom have we here ? Buckingham, to disturb 

me? 
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, 



a Some editors made a difficulty here, and would read — 
" A sceptre shall it have, have I a sword." 
The meaning is very obvious by reading "have I a soul" 
parenthetically— that is, if I have a soul. 

121 



Act V.] 



SECOND PAET OP KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 1. 



To know the reason of these arms in peace ; 
Or why, thou, 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. Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. 
O, I coidd hew up rocks, and fight with flint, 
I am so angry at these abject terms ; 
And now, like Ajax Telamonius, 
On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury ! 
I am far better bom 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. — 
\_All the preceding is spoken aside. 
Buckingham, I prithee 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. 

York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner ? 

Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. 

York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my 
powers. 
Soldiers, I thank you all ; disperse yourselves ; 
Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field, 
You shall have pay, and everything you wish. 
And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, 
Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons, 
As pledges of my fealty and love, 
I '11 send them all as willing as I live ; 
Lands, goods, horse, armour, anything I have 
Is his to use, so Somerset may die. 

Buck. York, I commend this kind submis- 
sion: 
We twain will go into his highness' tent. 

Enter King Henry, attended. 

K. lien. Buckingham, doth York intend no 
harm to us, 
That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm ? 

York. In all submission and humility, 
York doth present himself unto your highness. 
K. lien. 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. 
122 



Enter Iden, with Cade's head. 

Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean con- 
dition, 
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. 
K. lien. The head of Cade?— Great God, how 
just art thou ! — 
0, 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. 
K. Hen. How art thou call'd? and what is 

thy degree ? 
Iden. Alexander Iden, that 's my name ; 
A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. 
Buck. So please it you, my lord, J t were not 
amiss 
He were created knight for his good service. 
K. Hen. 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 ! 
K. Hen. See, Buckingham ! Somerset comes 
with the queen ; 
Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke. 

Enter Queen Maegaeet and Someeset. 

Q. Mar. 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 brook abuse ? 
King did-I call thee? no, thou art not king; 
Not 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, Idee 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. 



Act V.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VL 



[Scene I. 



Give place ; by heaven, thou shalt rule no more 
O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler. 
Som. 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? first let me 
ask of these, 3. 
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, 
They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchise- 
ment. 
Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford ; bid him come 
amain, [Exit Buckingham. 

To sa sr, if that the bastard boys of York 
Shall be the surety for then traitor father. 

York. 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 Plaxtagenet, 
with Forces, at one side ; at the other, with 
"Forces also, Old Clifford and his Son. 

See, where they come ; I '11 warrant they '11 make 
it good. 
Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny 

their bail. 
Clif. Health and all happiness to my lord the 
king ! [Kneels. 

York. I thank thee, Clifford : Say, what news 
with thee ? 
Nay, do not fright us with an angry look : 
We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again ; 
7or 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 with him ! is the man grown mad ? 
K. Hen. Ay, Clifford ; a bedlam and ambitious 
humour 
Makes him oppose himself against his king. 

Clif. He is a traitor ; let him to the Tower, 
Aud chop away that factious pate of his. 

Q. Mar. 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. 

a He probably points to his sons, who are waiting without: 
or, it may be, to his troops. 



Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have wj 

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, a 
That, with the very shaking of their chains, 
They may astonish these fell lurking curs ; 
j Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. 

Drums. Enter Warwick and Salisbury, with 
Forces. 

Clif. Are these thy bears ? we '11 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, 
Hath clapp'd his 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 ! 

York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly 

anon. 
Clif Take heed, lest by your heat you burn 

yourselves. 
K. Hen. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee for- 
got to bow ? 
Old Salisbury, — shame to thy silver hair, 
Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son ! — 
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruf- 
fian, 
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ? 
0, 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 niickle age. 

Sal. 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. 

K Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto 

me? 
Sal. I have. 

K. Hen. Canst thou dispense with heaven for 
such an oath ? 

a The bear and ragged staff was the cognizance of the 
Nevils. See, in this scene, Warwick's speech. 

123 



Act V.] 



SECOND PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II, 



Sal. It is great sin, to swear unto a sin ; 
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 ? 
Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister. 
K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm 

himself. 
Yorlc. Call Buckingham, and all the friends 
thou hast, 
I 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 ; 
And that I '11 write upon thy burgonet, 
Might I but know thee by thy household badge. 
War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's 
crest, 
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, 
This day I '11 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 '11 rend thy 
bear, 
And tread it under foot with all contempt, 
Despite the bearward that protects the bear. 

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 stigmatick," that's more than 

thou canst tell. 
Rich. If not in heaven, you '11 surely sup in 
hell. [Exeunt severally. 

SCENE II.— Saint Alban's. 

Alarums : Excursions. En/cr Warwick. 

War. Clifford of Cumberland, 't is Warwick 
calls ! 
And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, 



a Sligmaticl;. This was the appellation of an offender 
who had been branded — upon whom a s/irjma had been set. 
Young Clifford insults Richard with the natural stigma of his 
deformity. 



Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum, 
And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, 
Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me ! 
Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, 
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. 
Yorlc. 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. 
Clif. What seest thou in me, York ? why dost 

thou pause ? 
Yorlc. 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 't is 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! — address thee in- 
stantly. 

[They fight, and Clifford falls. 
Clif. La fin couronne les ccuvres. [Dies. 

Yorlc. Thus war hath given thee peace, for 
thou art still. 
Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will. 

[Exit. 

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 



Act V.] 



SECOND PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene III. 



Hath no self-love ; nor lie that loves himself 
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, 
The name of valour. — 0, let the vile world end, 

[Seeing his dead father. 
And the premised flames of the last day 
Knit earth and heaven together ! 
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, 
Particularities and petty sounds 
To cease ! a 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. 
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 will I seek out my fame. 
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house ; 

[Talcing tip the body. 
As did JEueas old Anchises bear 
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders ; 
Bui. then iEneas bare a living load, 
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit. 

Enter Richard Plantagenet and Somerset, 
fighting, and Somerset is /ailed. 

Rich. So, lie thou there ; — 
For, underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, 
The Castle in Saint Alban's, Somerset 
Hath made the wizard famous in his death. b 
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. 

Q. Mar. Away, my lord ! you are slow ; for 

shame, away ! 
K. Hen. Can we outrun the heavens ? good 

Margaret, stay. 
Q. Mar. What are you made of? you'll not 
fight, nor fly : 
Now is it manhood, wdsdom, and defence, 
To give the enemy way ; and to secure us 



a To cease — actively — to stop. 
t» See the prediction in Act i. — 

" Let him shun castles." 



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 fortunes 

made, 
May readily be stopp'd. 

Enter Young Clifford. 
Y. Clifi But that my heart's on future mis- 
chief set, 
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly ; 
But fly you must ; uncurable discomfit 
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. a 
Away, for your relief ! and we will live 
To see their day, and them our fortune give : 
Away, my lord, away ! [Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— Fields near Saint Alban's. 

Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter York, 
Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, and Sol- 
diers, with drum and colours. 

York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him ?— 
That winter lion, who in rage forgets 
Aged contusions and all brush of time ; 
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, 
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, 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. 
Well, lords, we have not got that which we have : 
'T is not enough our foes are this time fled, 
Being opposites of such repairing nature. 
York. I know our safety is to follow them ; 



a Parts— parties— party. 



125 



Act V.] 



SECOND PAET OF KINO HENRY VI. 



tSCEKE III. 



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 ? 
War. After them ! nay, before them, if we 
can. 



Now, by my hand, lords, 't was a glorious day : 
Saint Albau's battle, won by famous York, 
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come. 
Sound, drum and trumpets : — and to London 

all: 
And more such days as these to us befall ! 

[Exeunt 



. 








[ Violas near St. Albau's.] 




[Richard Nevil, Earl of Warwick.] 



ILLUSTRATION OP ACT V. 



HISTOEICAL ILLUSTEATIOK 



The persecution of the Duke of Gloster, tlie ba- 
nishment and death of Suffolk, the insurrection of 
Cade, were events that had long distracted and agi- 
tated the people, and prepared the way for the open 
claim of the house of York to the crown. The re- 
turn of the Duke of York from Ireland, his demand 
for the removal of Somerset, and the subsequent 
dismissal of his forces upon learning that Somerset 
was a prisoner, are detailed by the chroniclers. The 
indignation of York upon finding Somerset at li- 
berty is also related by them. The poet leaps over 
the subsequent committal of York as prisoner to 
the Tower, and his release under the terror which 
was produced by the approach of his son Edward 
towards London with a great army. The duke, 
previous to his release, solemnly submitted under 
oath to the king. The poet has preserved the unity 
of action by destroying the intervals between one 
event aud the other, and bringing causes and con- 
sequences into closer union. It is scarcely neces- 
sary for us to trace the real course of events, but 
we transcribe Hall's narrative of the first battle of 
St. Alban's :— 



'•' The king, being credibly informed of the great 
army coming toward him, assembled an host, in- 
tending to meet with the duke in the north part, 
because he had too many friends about the city of 
London ; and for that cause, with great speed and 
small luck, he, being accompanied with the Dukes 
of Somei'set and Buckingham, the Earls of Staf. 
ford, Northumberland, and Wiltshire, with the 
Lord Clifford and divers other barons, departed out 
of Westminster, the xx day of May, toward the 
town, of S. Albans : of whose doings the Duke of 
York being advertised by his espials, with all his 
power coasted the country, and came to the same 
town the third day next ensuing. The king, hear- 
ing of their approaching, sent to him messengers, 
straitly charging and commanding him, as an obe- 
dient subject, to keep the peace, and not, as an 
enemy to his natural country, to murder and slay 
his own countrymen and proper nation. While 
King Henry, more desirous of peace than of war, 
was sending forth his orators at the one end of the 
town, the Earl of Warwick, with the Marchmen, 
entered at the other gate of the town, and fiercely 

127 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT V. 



set on the king's foreward, and them shortly discom- 
fited. Then came the Duke of Somerset and all 
the other lords with the king's power, which fought 
a sore and cruel battle, in the which many a tall 
man lost his life : but the Duke of York sent ever 
fresh men to succour the weary, and put new men 
in the places of the hurt persons, by which policy 
the king's army was profligate and dispersed, and 
all the chieftains of the field almost slain and 
brought to confusion. For there died, under the 
sign of the Castle, E Imund Duke of Somerset, who 
long before was warned to eschew all castles; and 
beside him lay Henry the second Earl of Northum- 
berland, Humphrey Earl of Stafford, son to the 



Duke of Buckingham, John Lord Clifford, and viii M 
men and more.* Humphrey Duke of Buckingham, 
being wounded, and James Butler Earl of Wiltshire 
and Ormond, seeing fortune's loweriug chance, left 
the king post alone, and with a great number fled 
away. This was the end of the first battle at S. 
Albans, which was fought on the Thursday before 
the feast of Pentecost, being the xxiii day of May. 
In this xxxiii year of the king's reign, the bodies 
of the noble men were buried in the monastery, 
and the mean people in other places." 

* Holinshed suggests this is an error for 800. The Paston 
Letters say " some six score " were slain. 



THE 



FIRST PART OE THE CONTENTION 



Of THE TWO FAMOJS HOUSES OF 



YOKE AND LANCASTER, 



WITH THE 



DEATH OF THE GOOD DUKE HUMPHREY. 



ACT I. 



(SCENE I.) 

Enteral one door, King Henry the Sixth, and Hum- 
phrey Duke of Glostek, the Duke of Somerset, 
ike Duke of Buckingham, Cakdinal Beaufort, 
and others. 

Enter at the other door, the Duke of York, and the 
Marquess of Suffolk, and Queen Margaret, and 
the Earls of Salisbury and Warwick. 

Suf. As by your high, imperial majesty's command, 
I had in charge at my depart for France, 
As procurator for your excellence, 
To marry princess Margaret for your grace ; 
So in the ancient famous city Tours, 
In presence of the kings of France and Sicil, 
The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, and 

Alencon, 
Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend 

bishops, 
I did perform my task, and was espous'd : 
And now, most humbly on my bended knees, 
In sight of England and her royal peers, 
Deliver up my title in the queen 
Unto your gracious excellence, that are the substance 
Of that great shadow I did represent : 
The happiest gift that ever marquess gave, 
The fairest queen that ever king possess'd. 

King. Suffolk arise, 
Welcome queen. Margaret to English Henry's court : 
The greatest show of kindness yet we can bestow 
Is this kind kiss : gracious God of heaven, 
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness, 
For in this beauteous face thou hast bestow'd 
A world of pleasures to my perplex'd soul. 

Queen. Th' excessive love I bear unto your grace 
Forbids me to be lavish of my tongue, 
Lest I should speak more than beseems a woman : 
Let this suffice, my bliss is in your liking ; 
And nothing can make poor Margaret miserable, 
Unless the frown of mighty England's king. 

King. Her looks did wound, but now her speech 
doth pierce. 

Histories. — Vol. II. K 



Lovely queen Margaret, sit down by my side : 
And uncle Gloster, and you lordly peers, 
With one voice welcome my beloved queen. 

All. Long live queen Margaret, England's happi- 
ness. 

Queen. We thank you all. [Sound trumpets. 

Suf. My lord protector, so it please your grace, 
Here ai - e the articles confirm'd, of peace 
Between our sovereign and the French king Charles, 
Till term of eighteen months be full expir'd. 

Hum. Imprimis, it is agreed between the French 
king, Charles, and William de la Pole, marquess of 
Suffolk, ambassador for Henry king of England, that 
the said Henry shall wed and espouse the lady Mar- 
garet, daughter to Reignier king of Naples, Sicil, 
and Jerusalem, and crown her queen of England, ere 
the thirtieth day of the next month. 

Item. It is further agreed between them, that the 
duchies of Anjou and of Maine shall be released and 

delivered over to the king her fa 

[Duke Humphrey lets it fall. 

King, How now uncle, what 's the matter that you 
stay so suddenly ? 

Hum. Pardon my lord, a sudden qualm came o'er 
my heart, 
Which dims mine eyes that I can read no more. 
My lord of York, I pray do you read on. 

York. Item, It is further agreed between them, 
that the duchies of Anjou and of Maine shall be 
released and delivered over to the king her father, 
and she sent over of the king of England's own 
proper cost and charges, without dowry. 

King. They please us well, lord marquess kneel 
down : 
We here create thee first duke of Suffolk, 
And girt thee with the sword. Cousin of York, 
We here discharge your grace from being regent 
In the parts of France, till term of eighteen months 
Be full expir'd. Thanks uncle Winchester, 
Gloster, York, and Buckingham, Somerset, 
Salisbury, and Warwick. 
We thank you for all this great favour done, 
In entertainment to my princely queen. 

129 



.: I 



Al'T I.] 



FIRST PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[SCESE II. 



Come lot us in, and with all speed provide 
To see her coronation be perform' d. 

[Exeunt King, Queen, and Suffolk, and Duke 
Humphrey stays all the rest. 
Hum. 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 ? 
And did my brother Bedford spend his time, 
To keep in awe that stout unruly realm ? 
And have not I and mine uncle Beaufort here 
Done all we could to keep that land in peace ? 
And are all our labours then spent quite in vain ? 
For Suffolk he, the new-made duke that rules the 

roast, 
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, 
Reversing monuments of conquer' d France, 
Undoing all, as none had ne'er been done. 

Card. Why, how now, cousin Gloster ! what needs 
this ; 
As if our king were bound unto your will, 
And might not do his will without your leave ? 
Proud protector, envy in thine eyes I see, 
The big swoll'n venom of thy hateful heart, 
That dares presume 'gainst that thy sovereign 
likes. 
Hum. Nay, my lord, 'tis not my words that 
trouble you, 
But my presence, proud prelate as thou art : 
But 1 '11 be gone, and give thee leave to speak. 
Farewell my lords, and say, when I am gone, 
I prophesied France would be lost ere long. 

[Exit Duke HuMTHREY. 
Card. There goes our protector in a rage. 
My lords, you know he 's my great enemy, 
And though he be protector of the land, 
And thereby covers his deceitful thoughts. 
For you well see, if he but walk the streets, 
The common people swarm about him straight, 
Crying, Jesus bless your royal excellence, 
"With God preserve the good duke Humphrey, 
And many things besides that are not known, 
Which time will bring to light in smooth duke 

Humphrey. 
But I will after him, and if I can, 
I '11 lay a plot to heave him from his seat. 

[Exit Cardinal. 
Buck. But let us watch this haughty Cardinal. 
Cousin of Somerset, be ruled by me, 
We'll watch duke Humphrey and the Cardinal too, 
And put them from the mark they fain would hit. 
Som. Thanks, cousin Buckingham, join thou with 
me, 
And both of us with the duke of Suffolk, 
We '11 quickly heave duke Humphrey from his 
seat. 
Buck. Content: come then, let us about it straight, 
For either thou or I will be protector. 

[Exeunt Buckingham and Somerset. 
Sal. Pride went before, ambition follows after. 
Whilst these do seek their own preferments thus, 
My lords, let us seek for our country's good : 
Oft have I seen this haughty Cardinal 
Swear, and forswear himself, and brave it out, 
More like a ruffian than a man of the church. 
Cousin York, the victories thou hast won, 
In Ireland, Normandy, and in France, 
Hath won thee immortal praise in England : 
And thou, bravo Warwick, my thrice valiant son, 
Thy simple plainness and thy house-keeping 
Hath won thee credit amongst the common sort : 
The reverence of mine age, and Nevil's name, 
JJJO 



Is of no little force if I command. 

Then let us join all three in one for this, 

That good duke Humphrey may his state possess. 

But wherefore weeps Warwick, my noble son ? 

War. For grief that all is lost that Warwick 
won. 

Sons. Anjou and Maine, both given away at once, 
why, Warwick did win them ! and must that then 
which we won with our swords, be given away with 
words ? 

York. As I have read, our kings of England were 
wont to have large dowries with their wives, but our 
king Henry gives away his own. 

Sal. Come sons, away, and look unto the main. 

War. Unto the Main ! O father, Maine is lost, 
Which Warwick by main force did win from France : 
Main chance, father, you meant, but I meant Maine, 
Which I will win from France, or else be slain. 

[Exeunt Salisbury caul Warwick. 

York. 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. 
A day will come when York shall claim his o'.vn, 
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts, 
And make a show of love to proud duke Hum- 
phrey : 
And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, 
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit J 
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, 
Nor hold the 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 awhile till time do serve : 
Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep, 
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 smell 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, 1 '11 make him yield the 

crown, 
Whose bookish rale hath pull'd fair England down. 



(SCENE II.) 

Enter Duke Humphrey, and Dame Eleanor 
Cobham, Ms Wife. 

Eleanor. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd 

com, 
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load ? 
What, see'st thou, duke Humphrey, king Henry's 

crown ? 
Reach at it, and if thine ami be too short, 
Mine shall lengthen it. Art thou not a prince ? 
Uncle to the king ? and his protector ? 
Then what shouldst thou lack that might content 

thy mind ? 
Hum. My lovely Nell, far be it from my heart 
To think of treasons 'gainst my sovereign lord ; 
But I was troubled with a dream to-night, 
And God I pray it do betide none ill. 

Eleanor. What dreamt my lord ? Good Humphrey 

tell it me, 
And I'll interpret it : and when that's done, 
I '11 tell thee then what I did dream to-night. 

Hum. This night, when I was laid in bed, I 

dreamt 
That this my staff, mine office-badge in court, 



_ 



Act I.J 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER 



[Scene III. 



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 placed 
The heads of Edmund duke of Somerset, 
And William de la Pole first duke of Suffolk. 

Eleanor. Tush my lord ! this signifies nought but 
this, — 
That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove 
Shall for the offence make forfeit "of his head. 
But now, my lord, I '11 tell you what I dreamt : 
Methought I was in the cathedral church 
At Westminster, and seated in the chair 
Where kings and queens are crown'd, and at my 

feet 
Henry and Margaret with a crown of gold 
Stood ready to set it on my princely head. 

Hum. Fie, Nell. Ambitious woman as thou art, 
Art thou not second woman in this land, 
And the protector's wife ? belov'd of him ? 
And wilt thou still be hammering treason thus ? 
Away, I say, and let me hear no more. 

Eleanor. How now, my lord! what angry with 
your Nell 
For telling but her dream ? The next I have 
I '11 keep it to myself, and not be rated thus. 

Hum. Nay, Nell, I '11 give no credit to a dream, 
But I would have thee to think on no such things. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. An it please your grace, the king and queen 
to-morrow morning will ride a hawking to Saint 
Alban's, and crave your company along with them. 

Hum. With all my heart ; I will attend his grace. 
Come, Nell, thou wilt go with us I am sure. 

[Exit Humphrey. 

Eleanor. I'll come after you, for I cannot go 
before, 
As long as Gloster bears this base and humble mind : 
Were I a man, and protector as he is, 
I'd reach to th' crown, or make some hop headless. 
And being but a woman, I '11 not behind 
For playing of my part, in spite of all that seek to 

cross me thus : 
Who is within there ? 

Enter Sir John Hume. 

What, sir John Hume, what news with you ? 

Sir John. Jesus j^reserve your majesty. 

Eleanor. My majesty? why, man, I am but grace. 

Sir John. Ay, but by the grace of God, and 
Hume's advice, 
Your grace's state shall be advanc'd ere long. 

Eleanor. What, hast thou conferred with Margery 
Jourdain the cunning witch of Eye, with Koger 
Bolingbroke, and the rest? aud will they undertake 
to do me good ? 

Sir John. I have, madam ; and they have pro- 
mised me to raise a spirit from depth of under 
ground, that shall tell your grace all questions you 
demand. 

Eleanor. Thanks, good sir John. 
Some two days hence I guess will fit our time, 
Then see that they be here : 
For now the king is riding to Saint Alban's, 
And all the dukes and earls along with him. 
When they be gone, then safely may they come, 
And on the back side of my orchard here, 
There cast their sjjells in silence of the night, 
And so resolve us of the thing we wish ; 
Till when, drink that for my sake, and so farewell. 

[Exit Eleanor. 

Sir John. Now, sir John Hume, no words but 
mum. 
Seal up your- lips, for you must silent be : 

K 2 



These gifts ere long will make me mighty rich. 

The duchess she thinks now that all is well, 

But I have gold comes from another place, 

From one that hired me to set her on, 

To plot these treasons 'gainst the king and peer; 

And that is the mighty duke of Suffolk. 

For he it is, but I must not say so, 

That by my means must work the duchess' fall. 

Who now by conjurations thinks to rise. 

But wist, sir John, no more of t'hat I trow, 

For fear you lose your head before you go. 



(SCENE III.) 

Enter two Petitioners, and Peter the Armourer's 
man. 

1 Pet. Come, sirs, let's linger hereabout a while, 
Until my lord protector come this way, 

That we may show his grace our several causes. 

2 Pet. I pray God save the good duke Humphrey's 

life, 
For but for him a many were undone, 
They cannot get no succour in the court. 
But see where he comes with the queen. 

Enter the Dulce of Suffolk with the Queen, and 
they take_ him for Duke Humphrey, and give him 
their writings. 

1 Pet. Oh, we are undone, this is the duke of 

Suffolk. 
Queen. Now good fellows, whom would you speak 
withal ? 

2 Pet. If it please your majesty, with my lord 

protector's grace. 

Queen. Are your suits to his grace ? Let us see 
them first. 
Look on them, my lord of Suffolk. 

Suff. A complaint against the Cardinal's man. 
What hath he done ? 

2 Pet. Marry, my lord, he hath stole away my 
wife, and they are gone together, and I know not 
where to find them. 

SiLJf. Hath he stole thy wife ? that's some injury 
indeed. But what say you ? 

Peter. Marry, sir, I come to tell you, that my 
master said that the 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, th' 
other day when we were scouring the duke of York's 
armour in our garret. 

Suff. Ay, marry, this is something like, 
Who 's within there ? 

Enter One or Two. 

Sirrah, take in this fellow, and keep him close, 
And send out a pursuivant for his master straight, 
We '11 hear more of this thing before the king. 

[Exeunt, with the Armourer's man. 
Now, sir, what's yours? Let me see it, 
What's here? 

A complaint against the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing 
the commons of Long Melford. 
How now, sir knave ? 

1 Pet. I beseech your grace to pardon me, I am 
but a messenger for the whole township. 

[He tears the papers. 
Suff. So now show your petitions to duke Hum- 
phrey. 

131 



Act I.] 



FIEST PAET OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[ScKKIi III. 



Villains, get you gone, and come not near the 

court. 
Dare these peasants write against me thus ? 

[Exeunt Petitioners. 

Queen. My lord of Suffolk, you may see by this 
The commons' loves unto that haughty duke, 
That seek to him more than to king Henry : 
Whose eyes are always poring on his book, 
And ne'er regards the honour of his name, 
But still must be protected like a child, 
And governed by that ambitious duke, 
That scarce will move Ms cap to speak to us ; 
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. 
Can any grief of mind be like to this ? 
I tell thee Pole, when thou didst run at tilt, 
And stol'st away our ladies' hearts in France, 
I thought king Henry had been like to thee, 
Or else thou hadst not brought me out of France. 

Stiff. Madam, content yourself a little while : 
As I was cause of your coming into England, 
So will I in England work your full content : 
And as for proud duke Humphrey and his wife, 
I have set lime-twigs that will entangle them, 
As that your grace ere long shall understand. 
But stay, madam, here comes the king. 

Enter King Henry, and the Duke of York and the 
Duke of Somerset on both sides of the King, whis- 
pering with him : Then entereth Bake Humphrey, 
Dame Eleanor, the Duke of Buckingham, the 
Earl of Salisbury, the Earl of Warwick, and 
the Cardinal of Winchester. 

King. My lords, I care not who be regent in 
France, 
Or York or Somerset, all 's one to me. 

York. My lord, if York have ill demean' d him- 
self, 
Let Somerset enjoy his place, and go to France. 
Som. Then whom your grace thinks worthy, let 
him go, 
And there be made the regent over the French. 

War. Whomsoever you account worthy, 
York is the worthiest. 
Card. Peace, Warwick, give thy betters leave to 

speak. 
War. The Cardinal's not my better in the field. 
Buck. All in this place are thy betters far. 
War. And Warwick may live to be best of all. 
Queen. My lord in mine opinion, it were best 
That Somerset were regent over France. 

Hum. Madam, our king is old enough himself, 
To give his answer without your consent. 

Queen. If he be old enough, what needs your 
grace 
To be protector over him so long ? 

Hum,. Madam, I am but protector o'er the land, 
And when it please his grace, I will resign my 
charge. 
Svf Resign it then, for since thou wast a king 
(As who is king but thee ?) the common state 
Doth as we see, all wholly go to wrack, 
And millions of treasure hath been spent. 
And as for the regentship of France, 
I say Somerset is more worthy than York. 

York. I '11 tell thee, Suffolk, why I am not worthy, 
Because I cannot flatter as thou canst. 

War. And yet the worthy deeds that York hath 
done 
fc"iould make him worthy to be honour'd here. 
132 



Suf. Peace, headstrong Warwick. 

War. Image of pride, wherefore should I peace ? 

Suf. Because here is a man accus'd of treason ; 
Pray God the duke of York do clear himself. 
Ho, bring hither the armourer and his man. 

Enter the Armourer and his man. 

If it please your grace, this fellow here hath accused 
his master of high treason, and his words were these : 
That the duke of York was lawful heir unto the 
crown, and that your grace was an usurper. 

York. I beseech your grace let him have what 
punishment the law will afford for his villainy. 

King. Come hither, fellow ; didst thou speak these 

words ? 
A rm. An 't shall please your worship, I never said 
any such matter, God is my witness ; I am falsely 
accused by this villain here. 
Peter. 'Tis no matter for that, you did say so. 
York. I beseech your grace let him have the 

law. 
Arm. Alas, master, hang me if ever I spake the 
words. My accuser is my prentice, and when I did 
correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow 
upon his knees that he would be even with me : I 
have good witness of this, and therefore I beseech 
your worship do not cast away an honest man for 
a villain's accusation. 

King. Uncle Gloster, what do you think of this ? 
Him. The law, my lord, is this (because it rests 
suspicious, ) 
That a day of combat be appointed, 
And there to try each other's right or wrong, 
With ebon staves and sandbags combating 
In Smithfield, before your royal majesty. 

[Exit Humphrey. 
Arm. And I accept the combat willingly. 
Peter. Alas, my lord, I am not able for to fight. 
Suf. You must either fight, sirrah, or else be 
hang'd : 
Go take them hence again to prison. 

[Exeunt with them. 
[The Queen lets fall her glove, and hits the 
Duchess of Gloster a box on the car. 
Queen. Give me my glove. Why, minion, can you 
not see ? [She strikes her. 

I cry you mercy, madam, I did mistake ; 
I did not think it had been you. 

Eleanor. Did you not, proud Frenchwoman ? 
Could I come near your dainty visage with my 

nails, 
I VI set my ten commandments in your face. 

King. Be patient, gentle aunt • 
It was against her will. 
Eleanor. Against her will ! Good king, she '11 
dandle thee, 
If thou wilt always thus be rul'd by her. 
But let it rest : as sure as I do live, 
She shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd. 

[Exit Eleanor. 
King. Believe me, my love, thou wert much to 
blame : 
I would not for a thousand pounds of gold, 
My noble uncle had been here in place. 

Enter Duke Humphrey. 

But see where he comes : I am glad he met her 

not. 
Uncle Gloster, what answer makes your grace 
Concerning our lsgent for the realm of France, 
Whom thinks your grace is meetest for to send ? 

Hum. My gracious lord, then this is my resolve : 
For that these words the armourer should speak 
Doth breed suspicion on the part of York, 



A<T II.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



fSr E ;.- 2 I. 



Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, 

Till trial's made, and York may clear himself. 

King. Then be it so : my lord of Somerset, 
We make your grace regent over the French, 
And to defend our right 'gainst foreign foes, 
And so do good unto the realm of France. 
Make haste, my lord, 't is time that you were gone, 
The time of trdce is I think full expir'd. 

Som. I humbly thank your royal majesty, 
And take my leave to post with speed to France. 

{Exit Somerset. 

King. Come, uncle Gloster, now let's have our 
horse, 
For we will to St. Alban's presently. 
Madam, your hawk, they say, is swift of flight, 
And we will try how she will fly to-day. 

[Exeunt omnes. 

(SCENE IV.) 

Enter Eleanor, with Sir John Hume, Roger 
Bolingbroke a Conjurer, and Margery Jour- 
I'AIn a Witch. 

Eleanor. Here, sir John, take this scroll of paper 
here, 
Wherein is writ the questions you shall ask, 
And I will stand upon this tower here, 
And hear the spirit what it says to you, 
And to my questions write the answers down. 

[She goes up to the tower. 
Sir John. Now, sirs, begin, and cast your spells 
about, 
And charm the fiends for to obey your wills, 
And tell dame Eleanor of the thing she asks. 

Witch. Then, Roger Bolingbroke, about thy task, 
And frame a circle here upon the earth, 
Whilst I thereon all prostrate on my face 
Do talk and whisper with the devils below, 
And conjure them for to obey my will. 

[She lies down upon her face. Bolingbroke 
makes a circle. 
Boling. Dark night, dread night, the silence of 
the night, 
Wherein the furies mask in hellish troops, 
Send up, I charge you, from Cocytus' lake 
The spirit Ascalon to come to me, 
To pierce the bowels of this centric earth, 
And hither come in twinkling of an eye : 
Ascalon, ascend, ascend. 

It thunders and lightens, and then the Spirit 
riseth up. 



Spirit. Now, Bolingbroke, what wouldst thou 
have me do ? 

Boling. First, of the king, what shall become of 
him? 

Spirit. The duke yet lives that Henry shall 
depose, 
But him outlive, and die a violent death. 

Boling. What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk ? 

Spirit. By water shall he die, and take his end. 

Boling. What shall betide the duke of Somerset ? 

Siririt. Let him shun castles : 
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
Than where castles mounted stand : 
Now question me no more, for I must hence again. 

[He sinks down again. 

Boling. Then down, I say, unto the damned pool 
Where Pluto in his fiery waggon sits, 
Riding amidst the sing'd and parched smokes, 
The road of Ditis by the river Styx : 
There howl and burn for ever in those flames. 
Rise, Jourdain, rise, and stay thy charming spells. 
Zounds, we are betray'd ! 

Enter the Duke of York, and the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, and others. 

York. Come, sirs, lay hands on them, and bind 
them sure. 
This time was well watch'd. What, madam, are you 

there ? 
This will be great credit for your husband, 
That you are plotting treason thus with conjurers ; 
The king shall have notice of this thing. 

[Exit Eleanor above. 
Buck. See here, my lord, what the devil hath 

writ. 
York. Give it me, my lord, I'll show it to the 
king : 
Go, sirs, see them fast lock'd in prison. 

[Exit with them. 
Btick. My lord, I pray you let me go post unto the 
king, 
Unto St. Alban's, to tell this news. 

York. Content. Away then, about it straight. 
Buck. Farewell my lord. [Exit Buckingham. 

York. Who 's within there ? 

Enter One. 

One. My lord. 

York. Sirrah, go will the earls of Salisbury and 
Warwick 
To sup with me to-night. [Exit York. 

One. I will my lord. [Exit. 



(ACT II.) 



(SCENE I.) 

Enter the King and Queen with her hawk on her fist, 
and Duke Humphrey and Suffolk, and the Car- 
dinal, as if they came from hawking. 

Queen. My lord, how did your grace like this last 
flight ? 
But as I cast her off the wind did rise, 
And 'twas ten to one old Joan had not gone out. 
King. How wonderful the Lord's works are on 
earth, 
Even in these silly creatures of his hands ! 
Uncle Gloster, how high your hawk did soar, 



And on a sudden sous'd the partridge down. 

Suf. No marvel, if it please your majesty, 
My lord protector's hawks do tower so well ; 
They know their master soars a falcon's pitch. 

Hum. Faith, my lord, it's but a base mind, 
That soars no higher than a bird can soar. 

Card. I thought your grace would be above tho 
clouds. 

Hum. Ay, my lord cardinal, were it not good 
Your grace could fly to heaven ? 

Card. Thy heaven is on earth, thy words and 
thoughts 
Beat on a crown, proud protector, dangerous peer. 
To smooth it thus with king and commonwealth. 

13?, 



\CT II 



FIRST PAET OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene 1. 



Hum. How now, my lord, why this is more than 
needs ! 
Churchmen so hot ? Good uncle, can you do 't ? 

Suf. Why not, having so good a quarrel, 
And so bad a cause ? 

Hum. As how, my lord? 

Suf. As you, my lord, an 't hke your lordly 

lord's protectorshij). 
Hum. Why Suffolk, England knows thy inso- 
lence. 
Queen. And thy ambition, Gloster. 
King. Cease, gentle queen, 
And whet not on these furious lords to wrath, 
For blessed are the peace-makers on earth. 

Card. Let me be blessed for the peace I make, 
Against this proud protector with my sword. 

Hum. Faith, holy uncle, I would it were come to 

that. 
Card. Even when thou dar'st. 
Hum. Dare ? I tell thee priest, 
Plantagenets could never brook the dare. 

Card. I am Plantagenet as well as thou, 
And son to John of Gaunt. 
Hum. In bastardy. 
Card. I scorn thy words. 
Hum. Make up no factious numbers, 
But even in thine -own person meet me at the east 
end of the grove. 
Card. Here's my hand, I will. 
King. Why, how now, lords ? 
Card. Faith, cousin Gloster, 
Had not your man cast off so soon, we had had 
More sport to-day. Come with thy sword and 
buckler. 
Hum. God's mother, priest, I'll shave your 

crown. 
Card. Protector, protect thyself well. 
King. The wind grows high, so doth your choler, 
lords. 



Enter One crying A Miracle ! A Miracle ! 

How now? Now, sirrah, what miracle is it? 

One. An it please your grace, there is a man that 
came blind to St. Alban's, and hath received his 
sight at the shrine. 

King. Go fetch him hither, that we may glorify 
the Lord with him. 



Enter the Mayor of Saint Alban's, and his brethren, 
with music, bearing the man that had been blind 
between Two in a chair. 

King. Thou happy man, give God eternal praise, 
For he it is that thus hath helped thee : 
Where wast thou born ? 

Poor Man. At Berwick, please your majesty, in 
the north. 

Hum. At Berwick, and come thus far for help ? 

P. Man. Ay, sir, it was told me in my sleep, 
That sweet Saint Alban should give me my sight 
again. 

Hum. What, art lame too ? 

P. Man. Ay, indeed, sir, God help me. 

Hum. How cam'st thou lame ? 

P. Man. With falling off a plum-tree. 

Hum. Wert thou blind and would climb plum- 
trees ? 

P. Man. Never but once, sir, in all my life. 
My wife did long for plums. 

Hum. But tell me, wert thou born blind ? 

P. Man. Ay, truly, sir. 

Woman. Ay, indeed, sir, he was bom blind. 

Hum. What, art thou his mother ? 
134 



Woman. His wife, sir. 

Hum. Hadst thou been his mother, 
Thou couklst have better told. 
Why, let me see, I think thou canst not see yet. 

P. Man. Yes, truly, master, as clear as day. 

Hum. Say'st thou so? what colour's his cloak ? 

P. Man. Bed, master, as red as blood. 

Hum. And his cloak ? 

P. Man. Why, that 's green . 

Hum. And what colour's his hose? 

P. Man. Yellow, master, yellow as gold. 

Hum. And what colour's my gown? 

P. Man. Black, sir, as black as jet. 

King. Then belike he knows what colour jet is 
on. 

Suf. And yet I think jet did he never see. 

Hum. But cloaks and gowns ere this day many a 
one. 
But tell me, sirrah, what's my name? 

P. Man. Alas, master, I know not. 

Hum. What's his name? 

P. Man. I know not. 

Hum. Nor his ? 

P. Man. No, truly, sir. 

Hum. Nor his name? 

P. Man. No, indeed, master. 

Hum. What 's thine own name ? 

P. Man. Sander, an it please you, master. 

Hum. Then, Sander, sit th«re, the lyingest knavo 
in Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, 
thou mightst 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. My lords, 
Saint Alban here hath done a miracle, and would 
you not think his cunning to be great, that could 
restore this cripple to his legs again ? 

P. Man. 0, master, I would you could. 

Hum. My masters of Saint Alban's, have you not 
beadles in your town, and things called whips ? 

Mayor. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. 

Hum. Then send for one presently. 

Mayor. Sh'rah, go fetch the beadle hither strait. 

[Exit One. 

Hum. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. 
Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from 
whipping, leap me over this stool, and run away. 

Enter a Beadle. 

P. Man. Alas, master, I am not able to stand 
alone ; you go about to torture me in vain. 

Hum. Well, sir, we must have you find your 
legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over 
that same stool. 

Beadle. I will, my lord : come on, sirrah, off with 
your doublet quickly. 

P. Man. Alas, master, what shall I do ? I am not 
able to stand. 



[After the Beadle hath hit him one jerk, he leaps over 
the stool, and runs away, and they run after him, 
crying A Miracle ! A Miracle ! 

Hum. A miracle, a miracle ! Let him be taken 
again, and whipped through every market-town till 
he comes at Berwick where ho was born. 

Mayor. It shall be done, my lord. [Exit Mayor. 

<Sf2</. My lord protector hath done wonders to- 
day, 
He hath made the blind to see, and halt to go. 

Hum. Ay, but you did greater wonders, when you 
made whole dukedoms fly in a day. 
Witness France. 



Act II 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER 



[Scenes II., III. 



King. Have clone, I say, and let me hear no more 
ol' that. 

Enter the Duke of Buckingham. 

What news brings duke Humphrey of Bucking- 
ham? 

Buck. Ill news for some, my lord, and this it is, — 
That proud dame Eleanor our protector's wife, 
Hath plotted treasons 'gainst the king and peers. 
By witchcrafts, sorceries, and eonjurings, 
Who by such means did raise a spirit up, 
To tell her what hap should betide the state ; 
But ere they had finished their devilish drift, 
By York and myself they were all surpris'd ; 
And here's the answer the devil did make to them. 

King. First, of the king, what shall become of 
him ? 
(Reads.) The duke yet lives, that Henry shall de- 
pose, 
Yet him outlive, and die a violent death. 
God's will be done in all. 
What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk ? 
By water shall he die, and fake his end. 

Suf. By water must the duke of Suffolk die ? 
It must be so, or else the devil doth lie. 

King. Let Somerset shun castles, 
For safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, 
Than where castles mounted stand. 

Card. Here's good stuff, how now my lord pro- 
tector ? 
This news I think hath turn'd your weapon's point ; 
I am in doubt you'll scarcely keep your promise. 

Hum. Forbear, ambitious prelate, to urge my 
grief, 
And pardon me my gracious sovereign, 
For here I swear unto your majesty, 
That I am guiltless of these heinous crimes 
Which my ambitious wife hath falsely done ; 
And for she would betray her sovereign lord, 
I here renounce her from my bed and board, 
And leave her open for the law to judge, 
Unless she clear herself of this foul deed. 

King. Come, my lords, this night we'll lodge in 
Saint Alban's, 
And to-morrow we will ride to London, 
And try the utmost of these treasons forth. 
Come, uncle Gloster, along with us, 
My mind doth tell me thou art innocent. 

[Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE II.) 

Enter the Duke of York, and the Earls of Salis- 
bury and Warwick. 

York. My lords, our simple supper ended thus, 
Let me reveal unto your honours here 
The right and title of the house of York 
To England's crown by lineal descent. 

War. Then, York, begin; and if thy claim be 
good, 
The Nevils are thy subjects to command. 

York. Then thus, my lords : 
Edward the third had seven sons ; 
Tho first was Edward the Black Prince, prince of 

Wales. 
The second was William of Hatfield, who died young. 
The third was Lionel, duke of Clarence. 
The fourth was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster. 
The fifth was Edmund of Langley, duke of York. 
The sixth was William of Windsor, who died young. 
The seventh and last was sir Thomas of Woodstock, 
Duke of York. 

Now Edward the Black Prince died before his 
father, leaving behind him two sons, Edward born at 



Angouleme, who died young, and Richard, that was 
after crowned king by the name of Richard tho 
second, who died without an heir. Lionel duke of 
Clarence died, and left him one only daughter, 
named Philippe, who was married to Edmund Mor- 
timer, earl of March and Ulster : and so by her I 
claim the crown, as the true heir to Lionel duke of 
Clarence, third son to Edward the third. Now, sir, 
in time of Richard's reign, Henry of Bolingbroke, 
son and heir to John of Gaunt, the duke of Lan- 
caster, fourth son to Edward the third, he claimed 
the crown, deposed the mirthful king, and as both 
you know, in Pomfret castle harmless Richard was 
shamefully murdered, and so by Richard's death 
came the "house of Lancaster unto the crown. 

Sal. Saving your tale, my lord, as I have heard, 
in the reign of Bolingbroke the duke of York did 
claim the crown, and but for Owen Glendower had 
been king. 

York. True : but so it fortuned then, by means of 
that monstrous rebel Glendower, the noble duke of 
York was put to death, and so ever since the heirs 
of John of Gaunt have possessed the crown. But if 
the issue of the elder should succeed before the 
issue of the younger, then am I lawful heir unto the 
kingdom. 

War. What proceedings can be more plain ? He 
claims it from Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son 
to Edward the third, and Henry from John of Gaunt 
the fourth son. So that till Lionel's issue fails, his 
should not reign. 

It fails not yet, but flourisheth in thee, 
And in thy sons, brave slips of such a stock. 
Then, noble father, kneel we both together, 
And in this private place, be we the first 
To honour him with birthright to the ci - own. 

Both. Long live Richard, England's royal king ! 

York. I thank you both. But, lords, I am not 
your king, until this sword be sheathed even in the 
heart blood of the house of Lancaster. 

War. Then, York, advise thyself, and take thy 
time : 
Claim thou the crown, and set thy standard up, 
And in the same advance the milk-white rose, 
And then to guard it, will I rouse the bear, 
Environ'd with ten thousand ragged staves, 
To aid and help thee for to win thy right, 
Maugre the proudest lord of Henry's blood 
That dares deny the right and claim of York. 
For why, my mind presageth I shall live 
To see the noble duke of York to be a king. 

York. Thanks, noble Warwick ; and York doth 
hope to see the earl of Warwick live to be the 
greatest man in England but the king. Come, let 's 
g 0> [Exeunt omnes 



(SCENE III.) 

Enter King Henry and the Queen, Duke Hum- 
phrey, the Duke of Suffolk, and the Duke of 
Buckingham, the Cardinal, and Dame Eleanor 
Cobham led with the officers, and then enter to them 
the Duke of York, and the Earls of Salisbury 
and Warwick. 

King. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, duchess 
of Gloster, and hear the sentence pronounced against 
thee for these treasons that thou hast committed 
against us, our state, and peers. First, for thy 
heinous crime, thou shalt two days in London do 
penance barefoot in the streets, with a white sheet 
about thy body, and a wax taper burning in thy 
hand. That done, thou shalt be banished for ever 
into the Isle of Man, there to end thy wretched 

135 



ACT II.] 



FIRST PAET OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[SCESH IV 



days ; and this is our sentence irrevocable. Away 
with her. 

Eleanor. Even to my death, for I have lived too 
long. [Exeunt some with Eleanor. 

King. Grieve not, noble uncle, but be thou glad, 
In that these treasons thus are come to light, 
Lest God had pour'd his vengeance on thy head 
For her offences that thou held'st so dear. 

Hum. Oh, gracious Henry, give me leave awhile 
To leave your grace, and to depart away ; 
For sorrow's tears hath gripp'd my aged heart, 
And makes the fountains of mine eyes to swell, 
And therefore, good my lord, let me depart. 

King. With all my heart, good uncle, when you 
please. 
Yet ere thou goest, Humphrey, resign thy staff, 
For Henry will be no more protected ; 
The Lord shall be my guide both for my land and 
me. 

Ham. My staff? Ay, noble Henry, my life and 
all. 
My staff I yield as willing to bo thine, 
As ere thy noble father made it mine : 
And even as willing at thy feet I leave it, 
As others would ambitiously receive it: 
And long hereafter, when I am dead and gone, 
May honourable peace attend thy throne. 

King. Uncle Gloster, stand up, and go in peace. 
No less belov'd of us, than when 
Thou wert protector over this my land. 

[Exit Glosteh. 

Queen. Take up the staff, for here it ought to 
stand. 
Where should it be but in king Henry's hand ? 

York. Please it your majesty, this is the day 
That was appointed for the combating 
Between the armourer and his man, my lord, 
And they are ready when your grace doth please. 

King. Then call them forth that they may try 
their rights. 

Enter at one cloor the Armourer and his Neighbours, 
drinking to him so much that he is drunken, and he 
enters with a drum before him, and his staff with a 
sandbag fastened to it, and at the other door his 
man with a drum and sandbag, and Prentices 
drinking to him. 

1 Neigh. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you 
in a cup of sack ; and fear not, neighbour, you shall 
do well enough. 

2 Neigh. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of 
charneco. 

3 Neigh. Here's a pot of good double beer, neigh- 
bour : drink and be merry, and fear not your man. 

Arm. Let it come, i' faith I '11 pledge you all, 
And a fig for Peter. 

1 Pren. Here, Peter, I drink to thee, and be not 

afraid. 

2 Pren. Here, Peter, here 's a pint of claret wine 

for thee. 

3 Pren. And here's a quart for me, and be merry 

Peter, 
And fear not thy master ; fight for credit of the 
prentices. 

Peter. I thank you all, but I '11 drink no more : 
here, Robin, and if I die, here I give thee my ham- 
mer ; and Will, thou shalt have my apron : 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 learned so much fence already. 

Sal. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. 
Sirrah, what 's thy name ? 

Peter. Peter, forsooth. 

Oat. Peter: what more? 

Peter. Thump. 
136 



Sal. Thump, then see that thou thump thy master. 

Arm. Here 's to thee, neighbour; fill all the pots 
again, for before we fight, look you, I will tell you 
my mind ; for I am come hither as it were of my 
man's instigation, to prove myself an honest man 
and Peter a knave : and so have at you Peter with 
downright blows, as Bevis of Southampton fell upon 
Ascapart. 

Peter. La you, now ; I told you he 's in his fence 
already. 

[Alarums. Peter hits him on the head and fells 
him. 

A rm. Hold, Feter ! 1 confess, treason, treason. 

[He dies. 

Peter. God, I give thee praise. [He kneels down. 

Pren. Ho, well done, Peter ! God save the king ! 

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 truth and innocence of this poor fellow, 
Which he had thought to have murther'd wrongfully. 
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. 

[Exeunt omnes. 

(SCENE IV.) 

Enter Duke Humphrey and his men, in mourning 
cloaks. 

Hum. Sirrah, what 's o'clock ? 

Serv. Almost ten, my lord. 

Hum. Then is that woeful hour hard at hand, 
That my poor lady should come by this way, 
In shameful penance wandering in the streets. 
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook 
The abject peojrte gazing on thy face, 
With envious looks laughing at thy shame, 
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels 
When thou didst ride in triumjih through the streets. 

Enter Dame Eleanor Cobhah barefoot, and a white 
sheet about her, with a wax candle in her hand, and 
verses written, on her back and pinned on, and 
accompanied with the Sheriffs of London, and Sir 
John Stanley, and officers, with bills and hal 
berds. 

Serv. My gracious lord, see where my lady comes- 
Please it your grace, we'll take her from the sheriffs. 

Hum. I charge you for your lives stir not a foot, 
Nor offer once to draw a weapon here, 
But let them do their office as they should. 

Eleanor. Come you, my lord, to see my open 
shame ? 
Ah, Gloster, now thou dost penance too, 
See how the giddy people look at thee, 
Shaking their heads, and pointing at thee here. 
Go, get thee gone, and hide thee from their sights, 
And in thy pent-up study rue my shame, 
And ban thine enemies, — ah ! mine and thine. 

Hum. Ah, Nell, sweet Nell, forget this extreme 
grief, 
And bear it patiently to ease thy heart. 

Eleanor. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself; 
For whilst I think I am thy wedded wife, 
The thought of this doth kill my woeful heart. 
The ruthless flints do cut my tender feet, 
And when I start, the cruel people laugh, 
And bid me be advised how I tread ; 
And thus, with burning taper in my hand, 
Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back, 
Ah, Gloster, can I endure this and live ? 
Sometime I'll say I am duke Humphrey's wife, 
And he a prince, protector of the land, 
But so he rul'd, and such a prince he was. 



Ait in.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



rSt'F.NE I. 



As he stood by, whilst I his forlorn duchess 
Was led with shame, and made a laughing-stock 
To every idle rascal follower. 
Hum. My lovely Nell, what would'st thou have 
me do ? 
Should I attempt to rescue thee from hence, 
I should incur the danger of the law, 
And thy disgrace would not be shadow'd so. 
Eleanor. Be thou mild, and stir not at my dis- 
grace, 
Until the axe of death hang o'er thy head, 
As shortly sure it will. For Suffolk, he, 
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 all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings, 
And fly thou how thou can'st, they will entangle 
thee. 

Enter a Herald of arms. 

Herald. I summon your grace unto his highness' 
parliament, holden at St. Edmond's-bury, the first of 
the next month. 

Hum. A parliament, and our consent ne'er craved 
Therein before ? This is — 

Well, we will be there. [Exit Herald. 

Master sheriff, I pray proceed no further against my 
lady than the course of law extends. 



Sheriff. Please it your grace, my office hero clnfcfc 
end, 
And I must deliver her to sir John Stanley, 
To be conducted into the isle of Man. 

Hum. Must you, sir John, conduct my lady \ 
Stan. Ay, my gracious lord, for so it is decreed, 
And I am so commanded by the king. 

Hum. I pray you, sir John, use her ne'er the 
worse, 
In that I entreat you to use her well. 
The world may smile again, and I may live 
To do you favour, if you do it her. 
And so, sir John, farewell. 

Eleanor. What, gone, my lord, and bid not mo 

farewell ? 
Hum. Witness my bleeding heart, I cannot stay 
to speak. [Exeunt Humphrey and his men. 
Eleanor. Then is he gone, is noble Gloster gone, 
And doth duke Humphrey now forsake me too ? 
Then let me haste from out fair England's bounds: 
Come, Stanley, come, and let us haste away. 

Stan. Madam, let 's go unto some house hereby, 
Where you may shift yourself before we go. 
Eleanor. Ah, good sir John, my shame cannot be 
hid, 
Nor put away with casting off my sheet : 
But, come, let us go ; master sheriff, farewell, 
Thou hast but done thy office as thou shouldst. 

[Exeunt omncs. 



A.CT III.) 



(SCENE I.) 
Enter to the Parliament. 

Enter two Heralds he/ore, then the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, the DuJce o/'Suffolk, and then the Duke of 
York and the Cardinal of Winchester, and then 
the King and the Queen, and then the Earl of 
Salisbury and the Earl of Warwick. 

King. I wonder our uncle Gloster stays so long. 

Queen. Can you not see? or will you not per- 
ceive 
How that ambitious duke doth use himself? 
The time hath been, but now the time is past, 
That none so humble as duke Humphrey was : 
But now let one meet him even in the morn, 
When every one will give the time of day, 
Yet he will neither move nor speak to us. 
See you not how the commons follow him 
In troops, crying, God save the good duke Hum- 
phrey ! 
Honouring him as if he were their king ? 
Gloster is no little man in England, 
And if he list to stir commotions 
'T is likely that the people will follow him. 
My lord, if you imagine there is no such thing, 
Then let it pass, and call 't a woman's fear. 
My lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York, 
Disprove my allegations if you can, 
And by your speeches if you can reprove me, 
I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the duke. 

Suf. Well hath your grace foreseen into that 
duke ; 
And if I had been licens'd first to speak, 
I think I should have told your grace's tale. 
Smooth runs the brook whereas the stream is deepest. 



No, no, my sovereign, Gloster is a man 
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. 

Enter the Duke of Somerset. 

King. Welcome lord Somerset, what news from 

France ? 
Som. Cold news, my lord, and this it is, — 
That all your holds and towns within those terri- 
tories 
Is overcome, my lord ; all is lost. 

King. Cold news indeed, lord Somerset 
But God's will be done. 

York. Cold news for me, for I had hope of 
France, 
Even as I have of fertile England. 

Enter Duke Humphrey. 

Hum. Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so 

long. 
Suf. Nay, Gloster, know that thou art come too 
soon, 
Unless thou prove more loyal than thou art ; 
We do arrest thee on high treason here. 

Hum. Why, Suffolk's duke, thou shalt not sec mo 
blush, 
Nor change my countenance for thine arrest. 
Whereof I am guilty who are my accusers ? 

York. 'Tis thought, my lord, your grace took 
bribes from France, 
And stopp'd the soldiers of their pay, 
Through which his majesty hath lost all France. 
Hum. Is it but thought so? And who are they 
that think so ? 
So God me help, as I have watch'd the night, 
Ever intending good for England still : 
That penny that ever I took from France, 

137 



Act III.l 



FIRST TART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene I. 



Be brought against me at the judgment-day. 
I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay ; 
Many a pound of mine own proper cost 
Have I sent over for the soldiers' wants, 
Because I would not rack the needy commons. 
Card. In your protectorship you did devise 
Strange torments for offenders, by which means 
England hath been defam'd by tyranny. 

Hum. Why.'tis well known that whilst I was pro- 
tector 
Pity was all the fault that was in me : 
A murtherer or foul felonious thief, 
That robs and murders silly passengers, 
I tortur'd above the rate of common law. 
Suf. Tush, my lord, these be things of no ac- 
count ; 
But greater matters are laid unto your charge. 
I do arrest thee on high treason here, 
And commit thee to my good lord cardinal, 
Until such time as thou canst clear thyself. 

King. Good uncle, obey to his arrest : 
I have no doubt but thou shalt clear thyself ; 
My conscience tells me thou art innocent. 
Hum. Ah, gracious Henry, these days are dan- 
gerous ! 
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 follow after me, 
That dread not yet their lives' destruction. 
Suffolk's hateful tongue blabs his heart's malice ; 
Beaufort'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 mis- 
tress, 
Causeless have laid complaints upon my head. 
I shall not want false witnesses enough, 
That so amongst you you may have my life. 
The proverb no doubt will be perform' d, 
A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. 

Suf. Doth he not twit our sovereign lady here, 
As if that she, with ignominious wrong, 
Had suborn'd or hir'd some to swear against his 
life? 
Queen. But I can give the loser leave to speak. 
Hum. Far truer spoke than meant : I lose in- 
deed: 
Beshrew the winners' hearts, they play me false. 
Buck. He'll wrest the sense, and keep us here all 
day: 
My lord of Winchester, see him sent away. 

Card. Who's within there ! take in duke Hum- 
phrey, 
And see him guarded sure within my house. 

Hum. Oh, thus king Henry casts away his 
crutch, 
Before his legs can bear his body up ; 
And puts his watchful shepherd from his side, 
Whilst wolves stand snarling who shall bite him 

first. 
Farewell, my sovereign ! long mayst thou enjoy 
Thy father's happy days, free from annoy ! 

{Exit Humphrey, witfi the Cardinal's men. 
King. My lords, what to your wisdoms shall seem 
best 
Do and undo as if ourself were here. 

Queen. What, will your highness leave the par- 
liament ? 
King. Ay, Margaret. My heart is kill'd with 
grief, _ 
Where I may sit and sigh in endless moan, 
For who's a traitor, Gloster he is none. 

[Exeu7itKmG, Salisbury, and Warwick. 
138 



Queen. Then sit we down agaix my lord Car- 
dinal, 
Suffolk, Buckingham, York, and Somerset ; 
Let us consult of proud duke Humphrey's fall. 
In mine opinion it were good he died, 
For safety of our king and commonwealth. 

Suf. And so think I, madam; for, as you know, 
If our king Henry had shook hands with death, 
Duke Humphrey then would look to be our king : 
And it may be by policy he works, 
To bring to pass the thing which now we doubt. 
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb ; 
But if we take him ere he do the deed, 
We should not question if that he should live. 

York. No, let him die, in that he is a fox, 
Lest that in living he offend us more. 

Card. Then let him die before the commons know, 
For fear that they do rise in arms for him. 

York. Then do it suddenly, my lords. 

Suf. Let that be my lord Cardinal's charge and 
mine. 

Card. Agreed, for he 's already kept within my 
house. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Queen. How now, sirrah, what news ? 
Mess. Madam, I bring you news from Ireland. 
The wild O'Neil, my lords, is up in arms, 
With troops of Irish Kernes, that uncontroll'd 
Do plant themselves within the English pale. 
And burn and spoil the country as they go. 

Queen. What redress shall we have for this, my 

lords ? 
York. 'T were good that my lord of Somerset, 
That fortunate champion, were sent over 
To keep in awe the stubborn Irishmen ; 
He did so much good when he was in France. 
Som. Had York been there with all his far-fetch'd 
policies, 
He might have lost as much as I. 

York. Ay, for York would have lost his life, 
before 
That France should have revolted from England's 
rule. 
Som. Ay, so thou mightst, and yet have govern'd 

worse than I. 
York. What worse than naught ? then a shame 

take all. 
Som. Shame on thyself, that wisheth shame. 
Queen. Somerset forbear; good York be patient, 
And do thou take in hand to cross the seas, 
With troops of armed men, to quell the pride 
Of those ambitious Irish that rebel. 

York. Well, madam, sith your grace is so con- 
tent, 
Let me have some bands of chosen soldiers, 
And York shall try his fortunes 'gainst those Kernes. 
Queen. York, thou shalt. My lord of Buckingham, 
Let it be your charge to muster up such soldiers 
As shall suffice him in these needful wars. 

Buck. Madam, I will, and levy such a band 
As soon shall overcome those Irish rebels. 
But, York, where shall those soldiers stay for thee ? 
York. At Bristol, I'll expect them ten days 

hence. 
Buck. Then thither shall they come, and so fare- 
well. [Exit Buckingham. 
York. Adieu, my lord of Buckingham. 
Queen. Suffolk, remember what you have to do. 
And you, lord Cardinal, concerning duke Hum- 
phrey. 
'T were good that you did see to it in time. 
Come, let us go, that it may be perform' d. 

[Exeunt omnes, manet York. 
York. Now, York, bethink thyself, and rouse thee 
up, 



Act III.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scene II. 



Take time whilst it is offer' d thee so fair, 
Lest when thou wouldst, thou canst it not attain ! 
'T was men I lack'd, and now they give them me, 
And now, whilst I am busy in Ireland, 
I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, 
John Cade of Ashford, 
Under the title of John Mortimer, 
(For he is like him every kind of way) 
To raise commotion, and by that means 
I shall perceive how the common people 
Do affect the claim and house of York. 
Then, if he have success in his affairs, 
From Ireland then comes York again, 
To reap the harvest which that coystrill sow'd : 
Now, if he should be taken and condemn'd, 
He 'II ne'er confess that I did set him on, 
And therefore ere I go I '11 send him word 
To put in £>ractice and to gather head, 
That so soon as I am gone he may begin 
To rise in arms with troops of country swains, 
To help him to perform this enterprise. 
And then, duke Humphrey, he well made away, 
None then can stop the light to England's crown, 
But York can tame, and headlong pull them down. 

[Exit Yokk. 



(SCENE II.) 

Then the curtains being drawn, Duke HUMPHREY is 
discovered in his Led, and two men lying on Ms 
breast and smothering him in his bed. And then 
enter the Duke of Suffolk to them. 

Suf. How now, sirs ! what, have you despatch' d 
him ? 

1. Ay, my lord, he's dead I warrant you. 

Svf. Then see the clothes laid smooth about him 
still, 
That when the king comes, he may perceive 
No other but that he died of his own accord. 

2. All things is handsome now, my lord. 

Suf. Then draw the curtains again and get you 
gone, 
And you shall have your firm reward anon. 

[Exeunt. 

Enter the King and Queen, the Duke of Bucking- 
ham, and the Duke of Somerset, and the Car- 
dinal. 

King. My lord of Suffolk, go call our uncle 
Gloster. 
Tell him this day we will that he do clear himself. 
Suf. I will, my lord. [Exit Suffolk. 

King. And, good my lords, proceed no further 
'gainst our uncle 
Than by just proof you can affirm : 
For as the sucking child or harmless lamb, 
So is he innocent of treason to our state. 

Enter Suffolk. 

How now, Suffolk? where 's our uncle ? 

Suf. Dead in his bed, my lord of Gloster 's dead. 

[ The King falls in a siooon. 
Queen. Ah me, the king is dead : help, help, my 

lords \ 
Svf. Comfort, my lord; gracious Henry, comfort. 
King. What, doth my lord of Suffolk bid me com- 
fort? 
Came he even now to sing a raven's note, 
And thinks he that the chirping of a wren, 
By crying comfort through a hollow voice, 
Can satisfy my griefs, or ease my heart ? 
Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight, 



For even in thine eye-balls murther sits : 

Yet do not go. Come, basilisk, and kill 

The gazer with thy looks. 

Queen. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus, 

As if that he had caus'd duke Humphi-ey's death ? 

The duke and I too, you know, were enemies, 

And ye had best say that I did murther him. 

King. Ah, woe is me for wretched Gloster's 

death. 
Queen. Be woe for me, more wretched than he 
was : 

What, dost thou turn away and hide thy face ? 

I am no loathsome leper, look on me. 

Was I for this nigh wrack'd upon the sea, 

And thrice by awkward winds driven back from Eng- 
land's bounds ? 

What might it bode, but that well foretelling 

Winds said, seek not a scorpion's nest. 

Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury. 

War. My lord, the commons, like an hungry hive 
of bees, 
Run up and down, caring not whom they sting, 
For good duke Humphrey's death, whom they re- 
port 
To be murthered by Suffolk and the Cardinal here. 
King. That he is dead, good Warwick, is too 
true, 
But how he died God knows, not Henry. 

War. Enter his privy chamber, my lord, and view 
the body. Good father, stay you with the rude mul- 
titude till I return. 
Sal. I will, son. [Exit Salisbury. 

Warwick draws the curtains, and shoics Duke 
Humphrey in his bed. 

King. Ah, uncle Gloster, heaven receive thy soul! 
Farewell poor Henry's joy, now thou art gone. 
War. Now by his soul that took our shape upon 
him, 
To free us from his Father's dreadful curse, 
I am resolVd that violent hands were laid 
Upon the life of this thrice famous duke. 

Suf. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue ! 
What instance gives lord Warwick for these words ? 

War. Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost, 
Of ashy semblance, pale and bloodless; 
But, lo ! the blood is settled in his face, 
More better coloured than when he hVd. 
His well-proportion'd beard made rough and stern, 
His fingers spread abroad as one that grasp'd for life, 
Yet was by strength surpris'd ; the least of these are 

probable : 
It cannot choose but he was murthered. 

Queen. Suffolk and the Cardinal had him in 
charge, 
And they I trust, sir, are no murtherers. 

War. Ay, but 'tis well known they were not his 
friends, 
And 'tis well seen he found some enemies. 

Card. But have ye no greater proofs than these ? 
War. Who sees a heifer dead and bleeding fresh, 
And sees hard by a butcher with an axe, 
But will suspect 't was he that made the slaughter ? 
Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, 
But will imagine how the bird came there, 
Although the kite soar with unbloody beak ? 
Even so suspicious is this tragedy. 

Queen. Are you the kite, Beaufort ; where 's his 
talons ? 
Is Suffolk the butcher ; where 's his knife ? 

Suf. I wear no knife to slaughter sleeping men, 
Yet here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, 
That shall be scour'd in his rancorous heart 

139 



Act III.] 



FTEST PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[SitNi: II. 



That slanders me with murther's crimson badge. 
Say, if thou dare, proud lord of Warwickshire, 
That I am guilty in duke Humphrey's death. 

[Exit Cardinal. 

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 hundred times. 

War. Madam, be still; with reverence may I 
say it, 
That every word you speak in his defence 
Is slander to your royal majesty. 

Suf. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in thy words, 
If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, 
Thy mother took unto 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 Nevil's noble race. 

War. But that the guilt of murther 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 mute, 
I would, false murtherous coward, on thy knees 
Make thee crave pardon for thy passed speech, 
And say, it was thy mother that thou meant'st, 
That thou thyself was born in bastardy : 
And, after all this fearful homage done, 
Give thee thy hire, and send thee down to hell, 
Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men. 

Suf. Thou should'st be waking whilst I shed thy 
blood, 
If from this presence thou dare go with me. 

War. Away, even now, or I will drag thee hence. 
[Warwick pulls him out. 

Exit Warwick and Suffolk, and then all the Com- 
mons within erg, ' Down with Suffolk, Down with 
Suffolk.' And then enter again the Dukes of 
Suffolk and Warwick, with their weapons 
drawn. 

King. Why, how now, lords ? 
Suf. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of 
Bury, 
Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. 

The Commons again erg 'Down with Suffolk, Down 
with Suffolk.' And then enter from them the Earl 
of Salisbury. 

Sal. My lord, the Commons send you word by me, 
That unless false Suffolk here be done to death, 
Or banished fair England's territories, 
That they will err from your highness' person : 
They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died ; 
They say, by him they fear the ruin of the realm ; 
And therefore if you love your subjects' weal, 
They wish you to banish him from forth the land. 

Suf. Indeed, 'tis like the commons, rude un- 
polish'd hinds, 
Would send such message to their sovereign : 
But you, my lord, were glad to be employ'd, 
To try how quaint an orator you were ; 
But all the honour Salisbury hath got, 
Is — that he was the lord ambassador, 
Sent from a sort of tinkers to the king. 

Commons. [Within.] An answer from the king, 
my lord of Salisbury. 

King. Good Salisbury, go back again to them ; 
Tell them we thank them all for their kind care, 
And had I not been cited thus by their means, 
Myself had done it. Therefore here I swear, 
If Suffolk be found to breathe in any place 
HO 



Where I have rule, but three days more, he dies. 

[Exit Salisbury. 
Queen. Oh, Henry, reverse the doom of gentle 

Suffolk's banishment. 
King. Ungentle queen, to call him gentle Suffolk. 
Speak not for him, for in England he shall not rest. 
If I say, I may relent ; 
But if I swear, it is irrevocable. 
Come, good Warwick, and go thou in with me, 
For I have great matters to impart to thee. 
[Exeunt King and Warwick, manent Queen and 

Suffolk. 
Queen. Hell fire and vengeance go along with 

you ! 
There 's two of you, the devil make the third ! 
Fie, womanish man, canst thou not curse thy 

enemies ? 
Suf. A plague upon them, wherefore should I 

curse them ? 
Could curses kill, as do the mandrake's groans, 
I would invent as many bitter terms, 
Deliver' d strongly through my fixed teeth, 
With twice so many signs of deadly hate, 
As lean-fae'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 distraught ; 
And every joint should seem to curse and ban. 
And now, methinks, my burthen'd heart would 

break 
Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink ! 
Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest thing they 

taste ! 
Their sweetest shade a grove of cypress-trees ! 
Their softest touch as smart as lizards' stings ! 
Their music frightful like the serpents' hiss ; 
And boding screech-owls make the concert full ! 
All the foul terrors in dark-seated hell — 

Queen. Enough, sweet Suffolk, thou torment'st 

thyself. 
Suf. You bad me ban, and will you bid me 

cease ? 
Now, by this ground that I am banish' d from, 
Well could I curse away a winter's night, 
And standing naked on a mountain top, 
Where biting cold would never let grass grow, 
And think it but a minute spent in sport. 

Queen. No more. Sweet Suffolk, hie thee hence 

to France, 
Or live where thou wilt within this world's globe, 
I '11 have an Iris that shall find thee out. 
And long thou shalt not stay, but I'll have thee 

repeal'd, 
Or venture to be banished myself. 
Oh, let this kiss be printed in thy hand, 
That when thou seest it thou may'st think on me. 
Away, I say, that I may feel my grief, 
For it is nothing whilst thou standest here. 

Suf. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, 
Once by the king, but three times thrice by thee. 



Enter Vaux. 

Queen. How now? whither goes Vaux so fast ? 

Vaux. To signify unto his majesty 
That Cardinal Beaufort is at point of death : 
Sometimes he raves and cries as he were mad ; 
Sometimes he calls upon duke Humphrey's ghost, 
And whispers to his pillow as to him ; 
And sometimes he calls to speak unto the king : 
And I am going to certify unto his grace, 
That even now he call'd aloud for him. 

Queen. Go then, good Vaux, and certify the 
king. 

[Exit Vaux. 



Acr XV. 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scene 1. 



Oh what is wordly pomp ! all men must die ! 

Aud woe am I for Beaufort's heavy end. 

But why mourn I for him, whilst thou art here ? 

Sweet Suffolk, hie thee hence to France, 

For if the king do come, thou sure must die. 

Suf. And if I go I cannot live : but here to die, 
What were it else, 

But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap ? 
Here could I breathe my soul into the air, 
As mild and gentle as the new-born babe, 
That dies with mother's dug between his lips. 
Where from my (thy) sight I should be raging 

mad, 
And call for thee to close mine eyes, 
Or with thy lips to stop my dying soul, 
That I might breathe it so into thy bod}', 
And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium. 
By thee to die, were but to die in jest ; 
From thee to die, were torment more than death : 
Oh, let me stay, befal what may befal. 

Queen. Oh might'st thou stay with safety of thy 
life, 
Then shouldst thou stay ; but heavens deny it, 
And therefore go, but hope ere long to be repeal'd. 

Suf. I go. 

Queen. And take my heart with thee. 

[»S'Ae hisses h im. 

Suf. A jewel lock'd into the woefull'st cask, 
That ever yet contain'd a thing of worth. 
Thus, like a splitted bark, so sunder we ; 
This way fall I to death. [Exit Suffolk. 

Queen. This way for me. [Exit Queen. 



(SCENE III.) 

Enter King and Salisbury, and then the curtains It 
drawn, and the Cardinal is discovered in his led, 
raving and staring as if he were mad. 

Card. Oh, death ! if thou wilt let me live 
But one whole year, I '11 give thee as much gold 
As will purchase such another island. 

King. Oh, see, my lord of Salisbury, how he is 
troubled ! 
Lord Cardinal, remember, Christ must save thy soul. 

Card. Why, died he not in his bed ? 
What would you have me to do then ? 
Can I make men live, whether they will or no ? 
Sirrah, go fetch me the poison which the 'pothecary 

sent me. 
Oh, see where duke Humphrey's ghost doth stand, 
And stares me in the face. Look, look, comb down 

his hair ! 
So, now he 's gone again : Oh, oh, oh I 

Sal. See how the pangs of death do gripe his heart. 
King. Lord Cardinal, if thou diest assur'd of hea- 
venly bliss, 
Hold up thy hand, and make some sign to us. 

[Cardinal dies. 
Oh, see he dies, and makes no sign at all • 
Oh, 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 perform'd. 

r Excunt. 



(ACT IV.) 



(SCENE I.) 

Alarums within, and the chambers be discharged, hke 
as it were a fight at sea. A nd then enter the Captain 
of the ship, and the Master, unci the Master's Mate, 
and the Duke of Suffolk disguised, and others 
with him, and Walter Whithore. 

Cap. Bring forward these prisoners that scorn'd to 
yield ; 
Unlade their goods with speed, and sink their ship. 
Here, master, this prisoner I give to you ; 
This other, the master's mate shall have ; 
And, Walter Whitmore, thou shalt have this man : 
And let them pay their ransom ere they pass. 

Suf. Water ! [He starteth. 

Walter. How now ! what, dost fear me '! 
Thou shalt have better cause anon. 

Suf. It is thy name affrights me, not thyself. 
I do remember well, a cunning wizard told me 
That by Water I should die : 
Yet let not that make thee bloody minded ; 
Thy name, being rightly sounded, 
Is Gualtier, not Walter. 

Walter. Gualtier or Walter, all's one to me ; 
I am the man must bring thee to thy death. 

Suf. I am a gentleman ; look on my ring ; 
Ransom me at what thou wilt, it shall be paid. 

Walter. I lost mine eye in boarding of the 
ship ; 



And therefore ere I merchant-like sell blood for 

gold, 
Then cast me headlong down into the sea. 

2 Prison. But what shall our ransoms be ? 

Mast. A hundred pounds a-piece ; either pay that 
or die. 

2 Prison. Then save our lives ; it shall be paid. 

Walter. Come, sirrah, thy life shall be the ransom 
I will have. 

Suf. Stay, villain, thy prisoner is a prince, 
The duke of Suffolk, William de la Pole. 

Cap. The duke of Suffolk folded up in rags. 

Suf. Ay, sir, but these rags are no part of the 
duke; 
Jove sometime went disguis'd, and why not I ? 

Cap. Ay, but Jove was never slain as thou shalt 
be. 

Suf. Base jady groom, king Henry's blood, 
The honourable blood cf Lancaster, 
Cannot be shed by such a lowly swain. 
I am sent ambassador for the queen to France ; 
I charge thee waft me cross the channel safe. 

Cap. I'll waft thee to thy death. Go, Walter, 
take him hence, 
And on our long-boat's side chop off his head. 

Suf. Thou dar'st not for thine own. 

Cap. Yes, Pole. 

Suf. Pole. 

Cap. Ay, Pole, puddle, kennel, sink, and dirt ! 
I '11 stop that vawning mouth of thine : 



Act IV.] 



FIRST PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene II. 



Those lips of thine that so oft have kiss'd the queen 

Shall sweep the ground, 

And thou that sniil'dst at good duke Humphrey's 

death, 
Shalt live no longer to infect the earth. 

Suf. This villain, being but captain of a pinnace, 
Threatens more plagues than mighty Abradas, 
The great Macedonian pirate ; 
Thy words add fury and not remorse in me. 

Cap. Ay, but my deeds shall stay thy fury soon. 
Suf. Hast not thou waited at my trencher, 
When we have feasted with queen Margaret ? 
Hast not thou kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrup ? 
And bare-head plodded by my foot-cloth mule, 
And thought thee happy when I smil'd on thee ? 
This hand hath writ in thy defence ; 
Then shall I charm thee, — hold thy lavish tongue. 
Cap. Away with him, Walter, I say, and off with 

his head. 
1 Prison. Good my lord, entreat him mildly for 

your life. 
Suf. First let this neck stoop to the axe's edge, 
Before this knee do bow to any, 
Save to the God of heaven, and to my king : 
Suffolk's imperial tongue cannot plead 
To such a jady groom. 

Walter. Come, come, why do we let him speak ? 
I long to have his head for ransom of mine eye. 

Suf. A sworder and banditto slave 
Murther'd sweet Tully ; 
Brutus' bastard hand stabb'd Julius Caesar ; 
And Suffolk dies by pirates on the seas. 

[Exit Suffolk and Walter. 
Cap. Off with his head, and send it to the queen ; 
And ransomless this prisoner shall go free, 
To see it safe deliver' d unto her. 
Come, lot 's go. [Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE II.) 
Enter two of the Rebels with long staves. 

George. Come away, Nick, and put a long staff in 
thy pike, and provide thyself, for I can tell thee they 
have been up this two days. 

Nick. Then they had more need to go to bed now. 
But, sirrah George, what 's the matter ? 

George. Why, sirrah, Jack Cade the dyer of Ash- 
ford here, he means to turn this land, and set a new 
nap on 't. 

Nick. Ay, marry, he had need so, for 't is grown 
threadbare. 
'T was never merry world with us since these gentle- 
men came up. 

George. I warrant thee thou shalt never see a lord 
wear a leather apron now a-days. 

Nick. But, sirrah, who comes else beside Jack 
Cade ? 

George. Why, there 's Dick the butcher, and Robin 
the saddler, and Will that came a wooing to our 
Nan last Sunday, and Harry, and Tom, and Gregory 
that should have your Parnil, and a great sort more 
is come from Rochester, and from Maidstone, and 
Canterbury, and all the towns hereabouts, and we 
must be all lords or squires as soon as Jack Cade is 
king. 

Nick. Hark, hark, I hear the drum ; they be 
coming. 

Enter Jack Cade, Dick Butcher, Robin, Will, 
Tom, Harry, and the rest tvith long staves. 

Cade. Proclaim silence. 
A 11. Silence ! 

Cade. I, John Cade, so named for my valiancy. 
142 



Dick. Or rather for stealing of a cade of sprats. 

Cade. My father was a Mortimer. 

Dick. He was an honest man and a good brick- 
layer. 

Cade. My mother was come of the Lacies. 

Nick. She was a pedlar's daughter indeed, and 
sold many laces. 

Robin. And now, being not able to occupy her 
furred pack, she washeth bucks up and down the 
country. 

Cade. Therefore I am honourably born. 

Harry. Ay, the field is honourable, for he was 
born under a hedge, because his father had no other 
house but the cage. 

Cade. I am able to endure much. 

George. That's true, I know he can endure any- 
thing, for I have seen him whipped two market-days 
together. 

Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. 

Will. He need not fear the sword, for his coat is 
of proof. 

Dick. But methinks he should fear the fire, being 
so often burnt in the hand for stealing of sheep. 

Cade. Therefore be brave, for your captain is 
brave, and vows reformation : you shall have seven 
halfpenny loaves for a penny, and the three-hooped 
pot shall have ten hoops, and it shall be felony to 
drink small beer, if I be king, as king I will be. 

All. God save your majesty t 

Cade. I thank you, good people : you shall all eat 
and drink of my score, and go all in my livery ; and 
we '11 have no writing, but the score and the tally, 
and there shall be no laws but such as come from 
my mouth. 

Dick. We shall have sore laws then, for he was 
thrust into the mouth the other day. 

George. Ay, and stinking law too, for his breath 
stinks so that one cannot abide it. 

Enter Will with the Clerk of Chatham. 

Will. Oh, captain, a prize t 

Cade. Who's that, Will? 

Will. The clerk of Chatham : he can write and 
read and cast account. I took him setting of boys' 
copies ; and he has a book in his pocket with red 
letters. 

Cade. Zounds, he's a conjuror ! bring him hither. 
Now, sir, what 's your name ? 

Clerk. Emanuel, sir, an it shall please you. 
. Dick. It will go hard with you, I tell you, for they 
use to write that o'er the top of letters. 

Cade. What, do you use to write your name ? Or 
do you, as ancient forefathers have done, use the 
score and the tally ? 

Clerk. Nay, truly, sir, I praise God I have been so 
well brought up that I can write mine own name. 

Cade. Oh, he has confessed ; go hang him with his 
pen and ink-horn about his neck. 

[Exit One with the Clerk. 

Enter Tom. 

Tom. Captain, news, news ! sir Humphrey Stafford 
and his brother are coming with the king's power, 
and mean to kill us all. 

Cade. Let them come ; he 's but a knight, is he ? 

Tom. No, no, he 's but a knight. 

Cade. Why, then, to equal him, I '11 make myself 
knight. Kneel down John Mortimer, rise up sir 
John Mortimer. Is there any more of them that le 
knights ? 

Tom. Ay, his brother. 

Cade. Then kneel down, Dick Butcher. 

[He knights him. 
Rise up sir Dick Butcher. Now, sound up the drum. 



Apt IV.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. [Scekei iii._vi. 



Enter Sir Humphrey Stafford and Ms brother, 
with drum and Soldiers. 

Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not 
a pin ; 
'T is to you, good people, that I speak. 

Staf. Why, countrymen, what mean you thus in 
troops 
To follow this rebellious traitor Cade ? 
Why, his father was a bricklayer. 

Cade. Well, and Adam was a gardener, what 
then? 
But I come of the Mortimers. 

Staf. Ay, the duke of York hath taught you that. 

Cade. The duke of York ? nay, I learnt it myself. 
For look you, Roger Mortimer the earl of March, 
Married the duke of Clarence' daughter. 

Staf. Well, that 's true : but what then ? 

Cade. And by her he had two children at a birth. 

Staf. That's false. 

Cade. Ay, but I say 't is true. 

A 11. Y/hy then ' t is true. 

Cade. And one of them was stolen away by a 
beggar-woman, and that was my father, and I am 
his son, deny it an you can. 

JYic/c. Nay, look you, I know 't is true ; for his 
father built a chimney in my father's house, and the 
bricks are alive at this day to testify it. 

Cade. But dost thou hear, Stafford ; tell the king 
that for his father's sake, in whose time boys played 
at span-counter with French crowns, I am content 
that he shall be king as long as he lives : marry, 
always provided I '11 be protector over him. 

Staf. O monstrous simplicity I 

Cade. And tell him, we '11 have the lord Say's 
head, and the duke of Somerset's, for delivering up 
the dukedoms of Anjou and Maine, and selling the 
towns in France : by which means England hath been 
mained ever since, and gone as it were with a crutch, 
but that my puissance held it up. And besides, they 
can speak French, and therefore they are traitors. 

Staf. As how, I prithee ? 

Cade. Why, the Frenchmen are our enemies, be 
they not? and, then, can he that speaks with the 
tongue of an enemy be a good subject ? Answer"me 
to that. 

Staf. Well, sirrah, wilt thou yield thyself unto the 
king's mercy, and he will pardon thee and these their 
outrages and rebellious deeds ? 

Cade. Nay, bid the king come to me an he will, 
and then I '11 pardon him, or otherwise I '11 have his 
crown,tell him, ere it be long. 

Staf. Go, herald, proclaim in all the king's towns, 
That those that will forsake the rebel Cade 
S hall have free pardon from his majesty. 

[Exeunt Stafford and Ms men. 

Cade. Come, sirs, Saint George for us and Kent. 

[Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE III.) 

Alarums to the battle, where Sir Humphrey Stafford 
and his brother are both slain. Then enter Jack 
Cade again, and the rest. 

Cade. Sir Dick Butcher, thou hast fought to-day- 
most valiantly, and kuocked them down as if thou 
hadst been in thy slaughter-house, and thus I will 
reward thee : the Lent shall be as long again as it was, 
and thou shalt have licence to kill for fourscore and 
one a- week. Drum, strike up, for now we '11 march 
to London, and to-morrow I mean to sit in the king's 
seat at Westminster. [Exeunt, omnes. 



(SCENE IV.) 

Enter the King reading of a letter, and the Queen 
with the Duke of Suffolk's head, and the Lord 
Say, with others. 

King. Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are 
slain, 
And the rebels march amain to London. 
Go back to them, and tell them thus from me, 
I'll come and parley with their general. 
Yet stay, I '11 read the letter once again ; 
Lord Say, Jack Cade hath solemnly vow'd to have 
thy head. 

Say. Ay, but I hope your highness shall have his. 

King. How now, madam ! still 
Lamenting and mourning for Suffolk's death ? 
I fear, my love, if I had been dead, 
Thou wouldst not have mourn' d so much for me. 

Queen. No, my love, I should not mourn, but die 
for thee. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. Oh, fly, my lord ! the rebels are entered 
Southwark, 
And have almost won the bridge, 
Calling your grace an usurper : 
And that monstrous rebel, Cade, hath sworn 
To crown himself king in Westminster. 
Therefore fly, my lord, and post to Killingworth. 

King. Go bid Buckingham and Clifford gather 
An army up, and meet with the rebels. 
Come, madam, let us haste to Killingworth. 
Come on, lord Say, go thou along with us, 
For fear the rebel Cade do find thee out. 

Say. My innocence, my lord, shall plead for me, 
And therefore, with your highness' leave, I '11 stay 
behind. 

King. Even as thou wilt, my lord Say : 
Come, madam, let us go. [Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE V.) 
Enter the Lord Scales upon the Tower walls, walking. 

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 withstand 
them. The lord mayor craveth aid of your honour 
from the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels. 

Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall com- 
mand ; 
But I am troubled here with them myself. 
The rebels have attempted to win the Tower. 
But get you to Smithfield and gather head, 
And thither will I send you Matthew Gough : 
Fight for your king, your country, and your lives ; 
And so farewell, for I must hence again. 

[Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE VI.) 

Enter Jack Cade, and the rest, and strikes his sword 
upon London stone. 

Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city, and now, 
sitting upon London stone, we command that, the 
first year of our reign, the pissing conduit run 
nothing but red wine. And now henceforward it 
shall be treason for any that calls me any otherwise 
than lord Mortimer. 



Enter a Soldier. 

Sol. Jack Cade, Jack Cade ! 
Cade. Zounds, knock him down ! 



[They kill Mm. 
143 



An ;".] 



FIKST PART OF THE CONTENTION OF [Scenes vit.v in. 



Dick. My lord, there's an army gathered together 
into Smithfield. 

Cade. Come, then, let's go fight with them, but 
first go on and set London-bridge a-fire, and, if yon 
can, burn down the Tower too. Come, let's away. 

[Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE VII.) 

Alarums, and then Matthew Gough is slain, and 
all the rest with him. Then enter Jack Cade again 
and his company. 

Cade. So, sirs : now go and pull down the Savoy ; 
others to the inns of court: clown with them all. 

Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship. 

Cade. Be it a lordship, Dick, and thou shalt have 
it for that word. 

Dick. That we may go burn all the records, and 
that all writing may be put down, and nothing used 
but the score and tally. 

Cade. Dick, it shall be so, and henceforward all 
things shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall 
my palfrey go to grass. Why is't not a miserable 
thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb parch- 
ment shonld be made, and then with a little blotting 
over with ink a man should undo himself? Some 
say 't is the bees that sting, but I say 't is their wax, 
for I am sure I never sealed to anything but once, 
and I was never mine own man since. 

Nick. But when shall we take up those commodi- 
ties which you told us of ? 

Cade. Marry, he that will lustily stand to it, shall 
take up these commodities following : Item, a gown, 
a kirtle, a petticoat, and a smock. 



Enter George. 

George. My lord, a prize, a prize! here's the lord 
Say, which sold the towns in France. 

Cade. 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 traitor- 
ously erected a grammar-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 that daily read of books with red letters, and 
talk of a noun 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 Bhire, to hang honest men that steal 
for their living ; and because they could not read, 
thou hast hung them up ; only for which cause they 
were most worthy to live. 

Say. Yes, what of that ? 

Cade. Marry, I say, thou oughtest not to let thy 
horse wear a cloak, when an honester man than thy- 
self goes in his hose and doublet. 

Say. You men of Kent ! 

A it. Kent, what of Kent ? 

Say. Nothing, but bona terra. 

Cade. Bouum terum, zounds, what's that? 

Dick. He speaks French. 

Will. No 'tis Dutch. 

Nick. No 'tis Outalian, I know it well enough. 

Say. Kent (in the Commentaries Csesar wrote) 
Term'd is the civilest jilace of all this land : 
Then, noble countrymen, hear me but speak J 
I sold not France, nor lost I Normandy. 



Cade. But wherefore dost thou shake thy head 
so? 

Say. It is the palsy, and not fear that makes me. 

Cade. Nay, thou nodd'st thy head at us, as who 
wouldst say, thou wilt be even with me if thou gett'st 
away : but I'll make thee sure enough now I have 
thee. Go, take him to the standard in Cheapside, 
and chop off his head ; and then go to Mile-end 
green to Sir James Cromer, his son-in-law, and cut 
off his head too, and bring them to me upon two 
poles presently. Away with him. 

[Exit One or Two with the Lord Sat. 
There shall not a nobleman wear a head on his 
shoulders but he shall pay me tribute for it. Nor 
there shall not a maid be married, but he shall fee to 
me for her maidenhead ; or else I '11 have it myself : 
Marry, I will that married men shall hold of me in 
capite, and that their wives shall be as free as heart 
can think, or tongue can tell. 



Enter Robin. 

Rob. 0, captain, London-bridge is a fire. 
Cade. Kun to Billingsgate, and fetch pitch and 
flax, and quench it. 



Enter Dick and a Sergeant. 

Serg. Justice, justice, I pray you, sir, let me have 
justice of this fellow here. 

Cade. Why, what has he done ? 

Serg. Alas, sir, he has ravish'd my wife. 

Dick. Why, my lord, he would have 'rested me, 
and I went and entered my action in his wife's paper- 
house. 

Cade. Dick, follow thy suit in her common place. 
You whoreson villain, you are a sergeant, you'll take 
any man by the throat for twelve pence : and 'rest a 
man when he is at dinner, and have him to prison ere 
the meat be out on's mouth. Go, Dick, take him 
hence, and cut out his tongue for cogging ; hough 
him for running ; and to conclude, brain him with 
his own mace. "" [Exit with the Sergeant. 



Enter Two with the Lord Say's head, and Sir James 
Cromer's, iipon two poles. 

So, come carry them before me, and at every lane's 
end let them kiss together. 



(SCENE VIH.) 

Enter the Duke of Buckingham, and Lord Clifford, 
the Earl of Cumberland. 

Clif. Why, countrymen, and warlike friends of 
Kent, 
What mean these mutinous rebellions, 
That you in troops do muster thus yourselves, 
Under the conduct ol this traitor Cade ? 
To rise against your sovereign lord and king, 
Who mildly hath his pardon sent to you, 
If you forsake this monstrous rebel here ? 
If honour be the mark whereat you aim, 
Then haste to France that our forefathers won, 
And win again that thing which now is lost, 
And leave to seek your country's overthrow. 

All. A Clifford ! a Clifford ! 

[They forsake Cade. 

Cade. Why, how now, will you forsake your 
general, 
And ancient freedom which you have possess'd, 



Act I V.J 



THE HOUSES OE YOEK AND LANCASTER 



[Scenes IX., X. 



To bend your necks under their servile yokes, 
Who, if you stir, will straightway hang you up ? 
But follow me, and you shall pull them down, 
And make them yield their livings to your hands. 

All. A Cade ! a Cade ! [They run to Cade again. 

C'lif. Brave warlike friends, bear me but speak. 
Refuse not good whilst it is offer'd you : 
The king is merciful, then yield to him, 
And I myself will go along with you 
To Windsor castle, whereas the king abides, 
And on mine honour vou shall have no hurt. 

A 11. A Clifford ! a Clifford ! God save the king ! 

Cade. How like a feather is this rascal company 
Blown every way ? 
But that they may see there wants no valiancy in 

me, 
My staff shall make way through the midst of you, 
And so a pox take you all 1 

[He runs through them with his staff, and 
then flies away. 

Buck. Go, some, and make after him, and proclaim 
that those that can bring the head of Cade shall 
have a thousand crowns for his labour. Come, march 
away. [Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE IX.) 
Enter King Henry, and the Queen, and Somerset. 

King. Lord Somerset, what news hear you of the 
rebel Cade ? 

Som. This, my gracious lord, that the lord Say is 
done to death, and the city is almost sacked. 

King. God's will be done, for as he hath decreed 
so must it be : and be as he please, to stop the pride 
of those rebellious men. 

Queen. Had the noble duke of Suffolk been alive, 
The rebel Cade had been suppress'd ere this, 
And all the rest that do take part with him. 

Enter the Bake of Buckingham and Clifford, with 
the Rebels, irilh halters about their necks. 

C'lif. Long live king Henry, England's lawful 
king. 
Lo, here, my lord, these rebels are subdued, 
And offer their lives before your highness' feet. 

King. But tell me, Clifford, is their captain here ? 

C'lif No, my gracious lord, he is fled away, but 
proclamations are sent forth that he that can but 
bring his head shall have a thousand crowns. But 
may it please your majesty to pardon these their 
faults, that by that traitor's means were thus 
misled. 

King. Stand up, you simple men, and give God 
praise, 
For you did take in hand you know not what : 
And go in peace obedient to your king, 
And live as subjects, and j T ou shall not want, 
Whilst Henry lives, and wears the English crown. 

A 11. God save the king ! God save the king ! 



King. Come, let us haste to London now with 
speed, 
That solemn processions may be sung, 
In laud and honour of the God of heaven, 
And triumphs of this happy victory. 

[Exeunt omnes. 

(SCENE X.) 

Enter Jack Cade at one door, and at the other, A/as- 
ter Alexander Iden and his men, and Jack Cade 
lies down, picking of herbs and eating them. 

Iden. Good Lord, how pleasant is this country life ! 
This little land my father left me here, 
With my contented mind, serves me as well 
As all the pleasures in the court can yield, 
Nor would I change this pleasure for the court. 

Cade. Zounds ! here's the lord of the soil : stand, 
villain ! thou wilt betray me to the king, and get a 
thousand crowns for my head : but ere thou goest 
I '11 make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow 
my sword like a great pin. 

Iden. Why, saucy companion, why should I betray 
thee? 
Is 't not enough that thou hast broke my hedges, 
And enter'd into my ground, without the leave of 

me, the owner, 
But thou wilt brave me too ? 

Cade. Brave thee and beard thee, too, by the best 
blood of the realm. Look on me well : I have eat no 
meat this five days ; yet if I do not leave thee and 
thy five men as dead as a door-nail, I pray God 1 may 
never eat grass more. 

Iden. Nay, it shall never be said, whilst the world 
stands, 
That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, 
Took odds to combat with a famish'd man. 
Look on me, my limbs are equal unto thine, 
And every way as big : then hand to hand 
I '11 combat with thee. Sirrah, fetch me weapons, 
And stand you all aside. 

Cade. Now, sword, if thou dost not hew this burly- 
boned churl into chines of beef, I would thou 
migh'stfall into some smith's hands and be tum'd to 
hob-nails. 

Iden. Come on thy way. 

[They fight, and Cade falls down. 

Cade. Oh, villain, thou hast slain the flower of 
Kent for chivalry ; but it is famine and not thee that 
has done it. For come ten thousand devils, and give 
me but the ten meals that I wanted this five days, 
and I'll fight with you all. And so a pox rot thee, 
for Jack Cade must die. [He dies. 

Iden. Jack Cade ! and was this that monstrous 
rebel which I have slain ? 
Oh, sword, I'll honour thee for this, and in my 

chamber 
Shalt thou hang as a monument to after-age, 
For this great service thou has done to me. 
I'll drag him hence, and with my sword 
Cut off his head, and bear it to the king. [Exit 



Histories. — Vol. II. 



146 



Act V.] 



FIRST PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[SCE5i: I 



(ACT V.) 



(SCENE I.) 
Enter the Duke of York, with drum and Soldiers. 

York. In arms from Ireland comes York amain. 
Ring bells aloud, bonfires perfume the air, 
To entertain fair England's royal king. 
Ah, sancta majestas ! who would not buy thee dear ? 

Enter the Duke of Buckingham. 

But soft, who comes here ? Buckingham ! what news 
with him ? 
Back. York, if thou mean well, I greet thee so. 
York. Humphrey of Buckingham, welcome, I 
swear : 
What, coruest thou in love, or as a messenger ? 
Buck, I come as a messenger from our dread lord 
and sovereign, Henry, 
To know the reason of these arms in peace ; 
Or that thou, being a subject as I am, 
Should'st thus approach so near with colours sjjread, 
Whereas the person of the king doth keep ? 

York. A subject as he is ! 
Oh, how I hate these spiteful abject terms ! 
But, York, dissemble, till thou meet thy sons, 
Who now in arms expect their father's sight, 
And not far hence I know they cannot be. [Aside. 
Humphrey duke of Buckingham, pardon me 
That I answer'd not at first, my mind was troubled. 
I came to remove that monstrous rebel Cade, 
And heave proud Somerset from out the court, 
That basely yielded up the towns in France. 

Buck. Why that was presumption on thy behalf : 
But if it be no otherwise than so, 
The king doth pardon thee, and grants thee thy 

request, 
And Somerset is sent unto the Tower. 
York. Upon thine honour is it so ? 
Buck. York, he is, upon mine honour. 
York. Then before thy face I here dismiss my 
troops. 
Sirs, meet me to-morrow in Saint George's fields, 
And there you shall receive your pay of me. 

[Exeunt Soldiers. 
Buck. Come, York, thou shalt go speak unto the 
king. 
But see, his grace is coming to meet with us. 

Enter Kino Henry. 

King. How now, Buckingham? is York friends 
with us, 
That thus thou bring' st him hand in hand with thee ? 
Buck. He is, my lord, and hath discharged his 
troops, 
Which came with him, but as your grace did say, 
To heave the duke of Somerset from hence, 
And to subdue the rebels that were up. 
King. Then welcome, cousin York; give me thy 
hand, 
And thanks for thy great service done to us, 
Against those traitorous Irish that rebcll'd. 

Enter Master Iden with Jack Cade's head. 

I den. Long live King Henry in triumphant peace- ! 
Lo, here, my lord, upon my bended knees, 
1 here present the traitorous head of Cade, 
That hand to hand in single fight I slew. 
King. First, thanks to heaven, and next to tliee> 
my friend, 
That hast subdued that wicked traitor thus. 
Oh let me see that head that in his life 
146 



Did work me and my land such cruel spite. 
A visage stern, coal-black his curled locks, 
Deep-trenched furrows in his frowning brow, 
Presageth warlike humours in his life. 
Here, take it hence, and thou for thy reward 
Shalt be immediately created knight. 
Kneel down, my friend, and tell me what's thy 
name ? 

Iden. Alexander Iden, if it please your grace, 
A poor esquire of Kent. 

King. Then rise up Alexander Iden, knight ; 
And for thy maintenance I freely give 
A thousand marks a-year to maintain thee, 
Beside the firm reward that was proclaim' d 
For those that could perform this worthy act, 
And thou shalt wait upon the person of the king. 

Iden. I humbly thank your grace, and I no longer 
live 
Than I prove just and loyal to my king. [Exit. 

Enter the Queen with the Duke of Somerset. 

King. 0, Buckingham, see where Somerset comes ! 
Bid him go hide himself till York be gone. 

Queen. He shall not hide himself for fear of York, 
But beard and brave him proudly to his face. 

York. Who 's that ? proud Somerset at liberty ? 
Base, fearful Henry, that thus dishonour'st me, 
By heaven, thou shalt 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. 

Som. Proud traitor, I arrest thee on high treason 
Against thy sovereign lord ; yield thee, false York, 
For here I swear thou shalt unto the Tower, 
For these proud words which thou hast given the 
king. 

York. Thou art deceiv'd : my sons shall be my 
bail, 
And send thee there in despite of him. 
Ho, where are you boys ? 

Queen. Call Clifford hither presently. 

Enter the Duke of York'* Sons, Edward the Earl of 
March, and crook-back Richard, at the one door, 
with drum and Soldiers : and at the other door, entt r 
Clifford and his Son, with drum and Soldiers, and 
Clifford kneels to Henry, and speaks. 

C'lif. Long live my noble lord, and sovereign king 

York. We thank thee, Clifford. 
Nay, do not affright us with thy look3 : 
If thou didst mistake, we pardon thee, kneel again. 

C'lif. Why, I did no way mistake; this is my king. 
What, is he mad ? To Bedlam with him. 

King. Ay, a Bedlam frantic humour drives him 
thus 
To levy arms against his lawful king. 

CI if. Why doth not your grace send him to the 
Tower? 

Queen. He is arrested, but will not obey ; 
His sons, he saith, shall be his bail. 

York. How say you, boys, will you not ? 

Edw. Yes, noble father, if our words will serve. 

Rich. And if our words will not, our swords shall. 

York. Call hither to the stake my two rough 
bears. 



Act V.] 



THE HOUSES OF YOKE AND LANCASTER cs<»» n., ni. 



King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. 
York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou 
hast; 
Both thou and they shall curse this fatal hour. 

Enter at one door, the Earls of Salisbury and War- 
wick, with drum and Soldiers. And at the other 
door, the Duke of Buckingham, with drum and 
Soldiers. 

Clif. Are these thy bears ? we '11 bait them soon, 
Despite of thee and all the friends thou hast. 

War: You had best go dream again, 
To keep you from the tempest of the field. 

CI if. I am resolv'd to bear a greater stoim 
Than any thou can'st conjure up to-day ; 
And that I '11 write upon thy burgonet, 
Might I but know thee by thy household badge. 

War. Now by my father's age (badge), old Nevil's 
crest, 
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, 
This day I '11 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 will I rend the bear, 
And tread him under foot with all contempt, 
Despite the bear-ward that protects him so. 

Y. Clif. And so, renowned sovereign, to arms, 
To quell these traitors and their complices. 

Rich. Fie, charity, for shame ! speak it not in spite, 
For you shall sup with Jesus Christ to-night. 

Y. Clif. Foul stigmatic, thou canst not tell. 

Rich. No, for if not in heaven, you '11 surely sup 
in hell. [Exeunt omnes. 



(SCENE II.) 

Alarums to the battle, and then enter the Duke of 
Somerset and Richard fighting, and Richard 
kills him under the sign of the Castle in St. 
Alban's. 

Rich. So, lie thou there, and tumble in thy blood. 
What 's here, the sign of the Castle ? 
Then the prophecy is come to pass, 
For Somerset was forevvarn'd of castles, 
The which he always did observe. 
And now behold, under a paltry alehouse sign, 
The Castle in St. Alban's, Somerset 
Hath made the wizard famous by his death. [Exit. 

Alarums again, and enter the Earl of Warwick 
alone. 

War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls, 
And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, 
Now, whilst the angry trumpets sound alarms, 
And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, 
Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with rae ! 
Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, 
Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. 

[Clifford speaks within. 
Clif. Warwick, stand still, and view the way that 
Clifford 
Hews with his murth'ring curtel-axe, through the 

fainting troops 
To find thee out. 
Warwick, stand still, and stir not till I come. 

Enter York. 

War. How now, my lord, what a-foot? 
Who kill'd your horse ? 

York. The deadly hand of Clifford. Noble lord, 
Five horse this day slain under me, 

L 2 



And yet, brave Warwick, I remain alive. 

But I did kill his horse he loVd so well, 

The bonniest grey that ere was bred in north. 

Enter Clifford, and Warwick offers tofighl withhim. 

Hold, Warwick, and seek thee out some other 

chase, 
Myself will hunt this deer to death. 

War. Brave lord, 'tis for a crown thou fight' st. 
Clifford, farewell ! as I intend to prosper well to-day, 
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. 

[Exit Warwick. 
York. Now, Clifford, since we are singled hero 
alone, 
Be this the day of doom to one of us ; 
For now my heart hath sworn immortal hate 
To thee and all the house of Lancaster. 

Clif. And here I stand, and pitch my foot to 
thine, 
Vowing never to stir till thou or I be slain. 
For never shall my heart be safe at rest, 
Till I have spoil'd the hateful house of York. 

[Alarums, and they fight, and York kills 
Clifford. 
York. Now Lancaster sit sure ; thy sinews shrink. 
Come, fearful Henry, grovelling on thy face, 
Yield up thy crown unto the prince of York. 

[Exit York. 

Alarums, then enter Young Clifford alone. 

Y. Clif. Father of Cumberland ! 
Where may I seek my aged father forth ? 
Oh, dismal sight ! see where he breathless lies, 
All smear'd and welter'd in his hike- warm blood ! 
Ah, aged pillar of all Cumberland's true house, 
Sweet father, to thy murder' d ghost I swear 
Immortal hate unto the house of York ! 
Nor never shall I sleep secure one night, 
Till I have furiously reveng'd thy death, 
And left not one of them to breathe on earth. 

[He takes him up on his hack. 
And thus, as old ADchises' son did bear 
His aged father on his manly back, 
And fought with him against the bloody Greeks, 
Even so will I. But stay, here 's one of them 
To whom my soul hath sworn immortal hate. 

Enter Richard, and then Clifford lays down his 
father, fights him, and PacHAHD flies away again. 

Out, crook'd-back villain, get thee from my sight ! 
But I will after thee, and once again 
(When I have borne my father to his tent) 
I '11 try my fortune better with thee yet. 

[Exit Young Clifford witJi his father. 

Alarums again, and then enter Three or Four, hear- 
ing the Duke of Buckingham wounded to his tent. 

Alarums still, and then enter the King and Queen. 

Queen. Away, my lord, and fly to London straight. 
Make haste, for vengeance comes along with them : 
Come, stand not to expostulate, let 's go. 
King. Come then, fair queen, to London let us 
haste, 
And summon up a parliament with speed, 
To stop the fury of these dire events. 

[Exeunt King and Queen. 



(SCENE III.) 

Alarums, and then a flourish, and enter the Duke of 
York, Edward, and Richard. 

York. How now, boys ! fortunate this fight hath 
been, 
I hope, to us and ours, for England's good, 

H7 



Act V.] 



FIRST TAUT OF THE CONTENTION, &c. 



[SCKNE III. 



And our great honour, that so long we lost, 
Whilst faint-heart Henry did usurp our rights. 
But did you see old Salisbury, since we 
With bloody minds did buckle with the foe ? 
I would not for the loss of this right hand, 
That aught but well betide that good old man. 

Rich. My lord, I saw him in the thickest throng, 
Charging his lance with his old weary arms ; 
And thrice I saw him beaten from his horse, 
And thrice this hand did set him up again, 
And still he fought with courage 'gainst his foes, 
The boldest spirited man that ere mine eyes beheld. 

Enter Salisbury and Warwick. 

Edir. See, noble father, where they both do come, 
The only prop- unto the house of Yoik 



Sal. Well hast thou fought this day, thou valiant 
duke, 
And thou brave bud of York's increasing house ! 
The small remainder of my weary life 
I hold for thee, for with thy warlike arm, 
Three times this day thou hast preserv'd my life. 

York. What say you, lords ? the king is fled to 
London, 
There as I hear to hold a parliament : 
What says lord Warwick ? shall we after them ? 

War. After them ! nay, before them if we can. 
Now, by my faith, lords, 't was a glorious day ! 
Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York, 
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come. 
Sound, drums and trumpets ; and to LoDdon all ; 
And more such days as these to us befall. [Exeunt. 



fill 








[Arms of Henry VI. and Queen Margaret.] 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 



This drama appears in the original folio collection under the title of ' The Third Part of Henry 
the Sixt, with the Death of the Duke of Yorke.' In 1595 was published ' The True Tragedie of 
Richard Duke of Yorke, and the Death of good King Henry the Sixt, with the whole Contention 
between the two Houses Lancaster and Yorke, as it was sundrie times acted by the Right Honour- 
able the Earle of Pembrooke his Servants.' This was reprinted in 1600, the publisher of each edition 
being Thomas Millington. Upon this drama is founded The Third Part of Henry the Sixth, in the 
form in which we have received it as Shakspere's. We print this original, as a Supplement, from 
the edition of Thomas Pavrer, in 1619, which edition we have collated with the unique copy now in 
the Bodleian Library, having been purchased for that noble collection at the sale of Mr. Chalmers's 
books in 1842. This play, in Pavier's edition, is entitled the ' Second Part of the Contention of the 
Two famous Houses of York and Lancaster.' We indicate, in foot-notes, where this edition materially 
raries from the first copy of 1595. 



Costume of Henry VI., Part III. 

Tue Costume for the Third Part of King Henry VI. is in fact that of the reign of Edward IV., 
the principal characteristics of which were, in male attire, the exceeding shortness of the jackets, 
doublets, or pourpoints, and the padding out of the shoulders of them with large wadding3 called 
mahoitres, the sleeves being slit up the back or across the elbow to show those of the white shirt. 

151 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 

This was the commencement of the fashion of slashing which became so prevalent in the next 
century. The hood had now disappeared entirely, except from official dresses ; and bonnets of 
cloth, a quarter of an ell in height, were worn by the beaux of the day, who also, instead of crop- 
ping the hair all round, as in the last three reigns, suffered it to grow to such a length that it came 
into their eyes. The toes of their shoes and boots were at first ridiculously long and pointed,* and 
towards the close of the reign as preposterously broad and round. These extravagancies were 
endeavoured to be checked by sumptuary laws in the third and twenty- second years of Edward's 
rei^n, but, as usual, with very little effect. In the female dress some remarkable changes also 
occur. The gowns have very long trains, with broad velvet borders. The waists are very short, 
and confined by broad belts buckled before. The steeple head-dress (similar to the Cauchoise, 
still worn in Normandy, and so called from the Pays de Caux) is a peculiar mark of this reign iu 
England. 







[General Costume— end of Reign of Henry VI.] 



Of the historical personages in this play we have several representations. A portrait of Edward 
IV. is amongst those presented to the Society of Antiquaries by Mr. Kerrich, and, if not to be 
relied upon as an excellent likeness, it was at least executed during or shortly after his reign, and 
may be fairly supposed to convey an idea of his general appearance and costume.f He wears a 
black cap with a rich ornament and pendent pearl. His outer dress is cloth of gold — the under 
one black. In the royal MS. marked 15 E 4 we see him on his throne receiving a book and 



* We are told by Blackman that Henry VI. " would not wear the up-pointed horn-like toes then in fashion," and that 
" his dress was plain." Vide Collection printed by Hearne at the end of his Otterburne. 

t An engraving of this picture from a drawing by Mr. Kerrich himself forms the frontispiece to the fourth volume of the 
' Paston Letters.' 

152 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



. tiftffll 



If >l-(r 







9pfn \~ 



[Edward IV. and his Court.] 

surrounded by some of the principal officers of his court. In a MS. in the Lambeth library also ho 
is depicted on his throne receiving a volume from the hands of Lord Rivers and Caxton his printer j 
and by his side stand his queen, the young Prince Edward, and another royal personage, similarly 
attired with the prince, who is supposed to be either Richard Duke of Gloster or George Duke of 




Clarence. The Monk of Croyland informs us that " the new fashion " Edward IV. " chose for the 
last state-dresses was to have very full hanging sleeves like a monk's, lined with the most sumptuous 
furs, and so rolled over his shoulders as to give his tall person an air of peculiar grandeur." 

Of Louis XL King of France there are several authentic portraits in Montfaucon. A drawing 
of the famous king-making Earl of Warwick exists in the Warwick Roll, College of Arms, ^ee 

153 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 



Part II., p. 127,*) as does also one of George Duke of Clarence, Earl of Warwick in right of hia 
wife, Isabel Nevil, eldest daughter and co-heiress of the king-maker. In the additional MSS. at 
the British Museum (No. 6298), presented by the late Miss Banks, is a most interesting drawing 
which we believe has been hitherto overlooked. It represents the tomb and effigy of King Henry 
VI. which were formerly in St. George's Chapel at Windsor, and destroyed, it is supposed, during 
the civil wars temp. Charles I., as Sandford in 1677 says, "He (Henry) was interred there under a 
fair monument of which there are at present no remains." It is quite clear Sandford did not know 
of the existence of any drawing of it, or he would have caused it to be engraved for his Genealogical 
History, or at least bave alluded to it. The drawing in Miss Banks's collection, of which an engraving 
is given at p. 211, was made apparently in the year 1563, a memorandum affixed to another drawing 
by the same hand of some arms in the chapel being dated the 29th of August in that year. 
Over the tomb hang the tabard of arms, the sword, gauntlets, and shield of the deceased monarch, 
and underneath some later hand has written, " Qupere, if not the figure of Henry VI. because of the 
angel ?" alluding to the figure of an angel supporting the royal arms which appear on the side of the 
tomb, as, although the royal supporters during this reign were usually antelopes, the arms of Henry 
appear supported by an angel on the counter-seal engraved in Sandford 's 'Genealogical History,' 
p. 240, edit. 1677. At the same page in Sandford will be found the seal of Edward Prince of Wales, 
son of Henry VI., on which is the figure of the Prince on horseback and in armour, his tabard, 
shield, and the caparisons of his horse, emblazoned with his arms, quarterly France and England, 
over all a label of three points argent. 

* As the arms on the shield of that figure do not correspond with those we have given him in the heraldic horder to the 
Dramatis Persona; in this Part, it may be necessary to explain that the latter, viz. gules, a saltire argent, a label of three 
points gobony ardent and azure, are his paternal arms of Nevil; and that those on his shield, viz. quarterly Montacute and 
Monthermer are the arms of his maternal grandfather, Thomas Montacute Earl of Salisbury, whose daughter and heiress, 
Eleanor, his father married, and through whom he became Earl of Salisbury, being already in right of his wife Earl o) 
Warwick 




[Battle of Barnet.l 



TH1ED PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 

In illustration also of the military costume of the time, we refer to the engravings which we give 
from the illuminations of a MS. in the library at Ghent, written by a follower of Edward IV. in 
1471, and presented to Charles the Bold Duke of Burgundy. The first represents the Battle of 
Barnet. Edward IV. is seen on a white charger, with crimson caparisons, lined with blue and 
embroidered with golden flowers ; his bascinet is surrounded by a crown, and he is in the act of 
piercing with his lance a knight, presumed to be meant for the Earl of Warwick. The second is 
the battle of Tewkesbury, wherein Edward is depicted on a brown horse, a crown round his helmet, 
and the arms of France and England quarterly on his shield. The subject of the third is the execu- 
tion of Edmund Beaufort Duke of Somerset after the battle of Tewkesbury. The figure in the 
long black robe, with the white cross of his order, (now Maltese,) is that of John Lanstrother, Prior 
of St. John of Jerusalem, who suffered with the Duke. 

The decoration bestowed by Edward IV. upon his followers was a collar composed of suns and 
roses, (badges of the house of York,) to which was appended the white lion of March. Yidt 
Effigies of Sir John Crosby and Lady, engraved in Stothard's 'Sepul. Mon.' 




[Execution of the Duke of Somerset.] 




\ 7 .,*,■■ - ■- rsXS .'V-^-'-^P',.- J i 







WW'!/ .^vi. ^ i 'I l.'r .- f: 



•f/TYU 






J 4 





SnK / si 




Lords on Kin;: IIenr_\ 

S/'f/l'. 



(. ?I«J S(/H.1 



0/ //<e Dulce of York's 
parly. 









PERSONS REPRESENTED 



King Henry the Sixth. 

Edward, Prince of Wales, ft/* s.);; 

Lewis XL King of France. 

Puke of Somerset, 

Duke of Exeter., 

Earl of Oxford, 

Earl of Nortiu'M bebukc, 

Earl of Westmoreland, 

Lord Clifford, 

Richard Plamagenet, Duke of York 

Edward, Earl of March, afterwards 

Kins Edward IV. 
Edmund, Earl of Rutland, 
George, afterwards Duke of Clarence, 
Richard, afterwards Duke of Gloster, J 
Duke of Norfolk, 
Marquis of Montague, 
Earl of Warwick, 
Earl of Pembroke, 
Lord Hastings, 
Lord Stafford, 

Sir John Mortimer, \ uncles to the Dulce of 

Sir Hugh Mohtimfj, • York. 

Henry, Earlof Richmond, a youth. 
Lord Rivers, brother to Lady Grey. 
Sir William Stanley. 
Sir John Montgomery. 
Sir John Somerville. 

Tutor to Rutland. 

Mayor of York. Lieutenant of lite Tower. 
A Nobleman. Two Keepers. A Huntsman. 
A Son that has killed his Father. 

i Father that has killed his Son. 

Queen Margaret. 

Lady Ghey, afterwards Queen to Edward VJ. 

Dona, sister to the French Queen. 

Soldiers, and other Attendants on King Henry and 

King Edward, Messengers, Watchmen, fyc. 

SCENE,— during part of the third Act, in France; 

during all the rest of the Plug, in England. 









[Scene I.] 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— London. The Parliament-House. 

Drums. Some Soldiers of York's Parti/ 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 
north, 
He slily stole away, and left his men : 
VVhereat 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 abreast, 
Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in, 
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. 
Ed 10. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buck- 
ingham, 



Is either slain or wounded dangerous : 
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow ; 
That this is true, father, behold his blood. 

[Showing his bloody sword. 
Mont. And, brother, here 's the earl of Wilt- 
shire's blood, [To York, showing his. 
Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd. 
Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what 
I did. [Throwing down the Duke op 
Somerset's head. 
York. Richard hath best deseiVd of all my 
sons. — 
But, a is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset ? 
Norf. Such hope have all the line of John of 
Gaunt ! 

a But.— So the folio. In the ' True Tragedy ' we have 
" what," which was the ordinary reading. There is a con- 
temptuous force in but which is hardly given by what. The 
word is similarly employed in Twelfth Night. " But are 
you not mad indeed, or do you hut counterfeit?" 

157 



Act LI 



THIED PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 1 



Rich. Thus do I hope to shake king Henry's 

head. 
War. And so do I, victorious prince of York. a 
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'. 
York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I 
will; 
For hither we have broken in by force. 

Norf. We '11 assist you ; he that flies shall 

die. 
York. 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 
parliament, 
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 reso- 
lute; 
I mean to take possession of my right. 

War. Neither the king, nor he that loves him 
best, 
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, 
Dare stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells. 
I '11 plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares: — 
Resolve thee, Richard ; claim the English crown. 
[Warwick leads York, to the throne, who 
seats himself. 

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, North- 
umberland, Westmoreland, Exeteb, and 
others, with red roses in their hats. 

K. Hen. My lords, look where the sturdy 
rebel sits, 
Even in the chair of state ! belike, he means, 
Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false 
peer, 

« We follow the punctuation of all the old copies. In 
the modern text we have, which is prohably the better 
reading, — 

"And so do I. Victorious pri-nce of York,'' &c. 
158 



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, his 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. 
K. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmore- 
land. 
Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and such as he; 
He durst not sit there had your father liv'd. 
My gracious lord, here hi the parliament 
Let us assail the family of York. 

North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin ; be it 

so. 
K. Hen. Ah, know you not the city favours 
them, 
And thsy have troops of soldiers at their beck ? 
Exe. But when the duke is slain they'll 

cpiickly fly. 
K. Hen. 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 Duke. 
Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne, 
And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet ; 
I am thy sovereign. 
York. I am thine. a 
Exe. For shame, come down; he made thee 

duke of York. 
York. 'T was my inheritance, as the earldom b 

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; and that's Richard, 

duke of York. 
A'. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my 

throne ? 
York. It must and shall be so. Content thy- 
self. 



.i The earlier editors adopted the reading of the 'True 
Tragedy : '— 

" Thou art dccciv'cl, I am thine." 
The words which are rejected in the folio assuredly weaken 
the passage. 
b Earldom. — In the ' True Tragedy' we read "kingdom. 



A.CI I.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 1 



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 main- 
tain. 
War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You 
forget 
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, 
Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I '11 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 death before I stir. 

War. Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worth- 
less threats ! 
York. Will you, we show our title to the 
crown? 
If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. 
K. Hen. What title hast thou, traitor, to the 
crown ? 
Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York : 
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, sith thou hast lost 

it all. 
K. Hen. The lord protector lost it, and not I ; 
When I was crown'd I was but nine months 
old. 
Rich. You are old enough now, and yet me- 
thiuks you lose : — 
Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. 
Edw. Sweet father, do so ; set it on your head. 
Mont. Good brother, [to Yokk] as thou 
lov'st and honour' st arms, 
Let 's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. 
Rich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the 

king will fly. 
York. Sons, peace ! 
K. Hen. Peace thou ! and give king Henry 

leave to speak. 
War. Plantagenet shall speak first : — hear 
him, lords ; 
And be you silent and attentive too, 
For he that interrupts him shall not live. 



K. Hen. 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 sor- 
row, — 
Shall be my winding-sheet. — Why faint you, 

lords ? 
My title 's good, and better far than his. 

War. Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. 
K. Hen. Henry the Fourth by conquest got 

the crown. 
York. 5 T was by rebellion against his king. 
K. Hen. I know not what to say ; my title 's 
weak. 
Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir ? 
York. What then ? 

K. Hen. An if he may, then am I lawful 
king: 
For Richard, in the view of many lords, 
Rcsign'd the crown to Henry the Fourth ; 
Whose heir my father was, and I am his. 

York. He rose against him, being his sove- 
reign, 
And made him to resign his crown perforce. 
War. Suppose, my lords, he did it uncon- 
strain'd, 
Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown? 

Exe. No ; for he could not so resign his crown, 

But that the next heir should succeed and reign. 

K. Hen. 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. 
K. Hen. 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 : 't is 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 : 
May that ground gape, and swallow me alive, 
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father ! 
K. Hen. Clifford, how thy words revive 
my heart ! 

159 



Act I.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 1. 



York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy 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 over the chair of state, where now he sits, 
Write up his title with usurping blood. 

[He stamps, and the Soldiers show themselces. 
K. Hen. 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, 
Aiid thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st. 
K. Hen. I am content : Richard Plantagenet, 
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 ! 

Clif. In dreadful war may'st thou be over- 



come 



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, and therefore will 

not yield. 
A". Hen. Ah, Exeter ! 

War. Why should you sigh, my lord ? 

A". Hen. 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 ihine heirs for ever ; 
Conditionally, that here thou take an oath 
To cease this civil war, and, whilst 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 
perform. [Coming from the throne. 



War. Long live king Henry ! — Plantagenet, 

embrace him. 
A". Hen. And long live thou, and these thy 

forward sons ! 
York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. 
Exe. Accurs'd be he that seeks to make them 

foes ! 

[Senet. The Lords come forward. 
York. Farewell, my gracious lord ; I '11 to my 

castle. 
War. And I'll keep London, with my sol- 
diers. 
Norf. And I to Norfolk, with my followers. 
Mont. And I unto the sea, from whence I 

came. 
[Exeunt York, and his Sons, Warwick, Nor- 
folk, Montague, Soldiers, and Attendants. 
K. Hen. And I, with grief and sorrow, to the 

court. 

Enter Queen Margaret and the Prince of 
Wales. 

Exe. Here comes the queen, whose looks be- 
wray a her anger .- 
I '11 steal away. 

K. Hen. Exeter, so will I. [Going. 

Q. Mar. Nay, go not from me, I will follow 

thee. 
K. Hen. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will 

stay. 
Q. Mar. Who can be patient in such ex- 
tremes ? 
Ah, wretched man ! 'would I had died a maid, 
And never seen thee, never borne 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 wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood 

there, 
Rather than have made that savage duke thineheir, 
And disinherited thine only son. 

Prince. Father, yon cannot disinherit me : 
If you be king, why should not I succeed ? 
K. Hen. Pardon me, Margaret ; pardon me, 
sweet son ; 
The earl of Warwick and the duke enfore'd me. 
6?. Mar. Enfore'd thee ! art thou king, and 
wilt be fore'd ? 
I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous 
wretch ! 

a Bewray,— discover. Douce says that bewray is simply 
i to disclose, whilst betray is to disclose treacherously. The 
1 -words are often used indifferently by the elder writers. 



ICO 



Act I.J 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCENB II. 



Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me ; 
And given unto the house of York such head, 
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. 
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, 
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre, 
Aud creep into it far before thy time ? 
Warwick is chancellor, and the lord of Calais ; 
Stern Faidconbridge commands the narrow seas; 
The duke is made protector of the realm ; 
And yet shalt thou be safe ? such safety finds 
The trembling lamb environed with wolves. 
Had I been there, which am a silly woman, 
The soldiers should have toss'd me on their 

pikes 
Before I would have granted to that act. 
But thou 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, 
Whereby 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 ; 
Oar army's ready; come, we'll after them. 
K. Hen. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me 

speak. 
Q. Mar. Thou hast spoke too much already ; 

get thee gone. 
A'. Hen. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay 

with me ? 
Q. Mar. Ay, to be murther'd by his enemies. 
Prince. When I return with victory from the 

field 
I '11 see your grace : till then, I '11 follow her. 
Q. Mar. Come, son, away ; we may not linger 

thus. 
[Exeunt Queen Margaret and the Prince. 
K. Hen. Poor queen ! how love to me, and 

to her son, 
Hath made her break out into terms of rage ! 
Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke ; 
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, 
Will cost a my crown, and, like an empty eagle, 
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son ! 
The loss of those three lords torments my heart : 
I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair ; — 
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. 
Ere. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. 

[Exeunt. 



«■ Cost. Warburton, and with him Steevens, maintain 
that the true word is coast — " Will coast the crcnn" — will 
hover about the crown. It is unnecessary to turn a plain 
expression into a metaphor. 

Histories. — Vol. II. M 



SCENE II. — A Room in Sandal Castle, near 
Wakefield, in Yorkshire. 

Enter Edward, Richard, and Montague. 

Rich. Brother, though I be youngest, give 

me leave. 
Edw. No, I can better play the orator. 
Mont. But I have reasons strong aud forcible. 

Enter York. 

York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a 
strife ? 
What is your quarrel ? how began it first ? 
Echo. 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 
broken : a 
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 

me speak. 
York. Thou canst not, son ; it is impossible. 
Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not took 
Before a true and lawful magistrate, 
That hath authority over him that swears : 
Henry had none, but did usurp the place ; 
Then, seeing 't was 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, 



" Lord Chedworth quotes Cicero as the authority for this 
opinion:— "Si violandum est jus, regnandi gratia violan- 
dum est: aliis rebus pietatem colas." (De OrBciis, 1. 3.) 

161 



Act I.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene III. 



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 Kentish men will willingly rise : 

In them I trust ; for they are soldiers, 

Witty, a 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 uot privy to my drift, 

Nor any of the house of Lancaster ? 

Enter a Messenger. 

But, stay; What news ? why com'st thou in such 
post? 
Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls 
and lords, 
Intend here to besiege you in your castle : 
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 king, 
With powerful policy strengthen themselves, 
And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. 
Mont. Brother, I go ; I '11 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 '11 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 uot now have the like success ? 

[Alarum. Exeunt. 

a Witty,— of sound judgment— of good understanding. 
162 



SCENE 111.— Plains near Sandal Castle. 

Alarums : Excursions. Enter Rutland, and 
his Tutor. 

Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their 
hands ? 
Ah, tutor ! lock where bloody Clifford comes ! 

Enter Clifford and Soldiers. 

Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves 
thy fife. 
As for the brat of this accursed duke, 
Whose father slew my father, he shall die. 

Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company. 

Clif. Soldiers, away with him. 

Tut. Ah, Clifford! murther not this innocent 
cliild, 
Lest thou be hated both of God and man. 

[Exit, forced off by Soldiers. 

Clif. How now ! is he dead already ? Or is it 
fear 
That makes him close his eyes? — I 11 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 his limbs asunder. 
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, 
And not with such a cruel threat'ning 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 
father's blood 
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— [Lifting his hand. 

Rut. 0, let me pray before I take my 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 't was ere I was born 



Act I.J 



THIED PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scesz IV. 



Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me ; 

Lest in revenge thereof, — sith God is just, — 

He be as miserably slain as I. 

Ah, let me live in prison all my days ; 

And when I give occasion of oifence, 

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. 

Clif. No cause ? 
Thy father slew my father ; therefore, die. 

[Clifford stabs him. 
Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuts ! 

[Dies. 
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. 

[Exit. 
SCENE IV.—T/ie 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 them- 
selves 
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 faulchion, painted to the hilt 
In blood of those that had encounter' d 1dm : 
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 0, again; as I have seen a swan 
With bootless labour swim against the tide, 
Aud spend her strength with over-matching 
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, Northum- 
berland, and Soldiers. 

a Bodg'd. Johnson would read budg'd. Steevens thinks 
that bodg'd here means "we boggled, made bad or bungling 
work ot our attempt to rally." Body'd is from the French 
bouger, to slir. 

M 2 



Come, bloody Clifford, — rough Northumber- 
land, — 
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage ; 
I am your butt, and I abide your shot. 

North. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. 
Cliff. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm, 
With downright payment, show'd unto my father. 
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, 
And made an evening at the noontide prick. 
York. Mv 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 ? 
Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no 
further ; 
So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons ; 
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, 
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. 

York. Clifford, but bethink thee once again, 
And in thy thought o'er-run my former time : 
And, if thou canst for blusliing, view this face ; 
And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with 

cowardice, 
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. 
Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand 
causes, 
I would prolong awhile the traitor's fife : — 
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northum- 
berland. 
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, icho 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. 
North. What would your grace have done 

unto him now ? 
Q. Mar. Brave warriors, Clifford and North- 
umberland, 

163 



Act I.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene IV. 



Come, make him stand upon this molehill here ; 

That raught a at mountains with outstretched 
arms, 

Yet parted but the shadow with his hand. 

What ! was it you that would he England's king ? 

Was 't you, that revell'd in our parliament, 

And made a preachment 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 Rut- 
land? 

Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the 
blood 

That valiant Clifford, with his 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 prithee, 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, shouldst be 
mad; 

And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. 

Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and 
dance. b 

Thou wouldst be fee'd, 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 crown 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 pale c your head in Henry's glory, 

And rob his temples of the diadem, 

Now in his life, against your holy oath ? 

O, 't is a fault too, toe unpardonable ! 

Off with the crown ; and, with the crown, his 
head; 

And, wliilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. 



a Rau.aht. The ancient preterite of to reach. 
t> We place this line as in the folio. Inthe ' TrueTragedy' 
ils position is after 

" I prithee, prieve, to make mo merry, York." 
c Pule, — impale— encircle. 



Clif. That is my office, for my father's sake. 
Q. Mar. Nay, stay ; let 's hear the orisons he 

makes. 
York. 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, vizor-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 careen ; 
Unless the adage must be verified, 
That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. 
'T is beauty that doth oft make women proud ; 
But God he knows thy share thereof is small : 
'T is virtue that doth make them most admir'd ; 
The contrary doth make thee wonder' d at : 
'T is 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. 
0, 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. 
Bid'st thou me rage ? why, now thou hast thy 

wish: 
Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast 

thy will : 
Eor 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 French- 
woman. 
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 : 



Act I.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENEY VI. 



ftSCESE IV. 



But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, 
O, ten times 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 : 

[He gives back the handkerchief. 
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 my 

curse ; 
And in thy need such comfort come to thee 
As now I reap at thy too cruel hand ! 
Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world ; 
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads ! 



North. Had he been slaughter-man to all my 
kin, 
I should not for my life but weep with him, 
To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. 

Q. Mar. What, weeping-ripe, my lord North- 
umberland ? 
Think but upon the wrong he did us all, 
And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. 
CI if. Here's for my oath, here's for my 
father's death. [Stabbing him. 

Q. Mar. 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. 
Q. Mar. Off with his head, and set it on 
York gates ; 
So York may overlook the town of York. 

[Exeunt. 




[ScensJIl. Sandal Castle.] 




[Edward Prince of Wales. j 



ILLUSTRATION OE ACT I. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



The battle of St. Alban's concluded the Second 
Part of the drama of Henry VI. ; in the first 
scene of this Third Part the conquerors are 
assembled in the parliament-house, boasting of 
their exploits, and resolved to carry out their 
victory to its utmost consequences. Yet five 
years had elapsed between this first great triumph 
of the Yorkists and the compromise between the 
rival houses which we find in the scene before us. 
That compromise followed the battle of North- 
ampton, in the 38th year of Henry VI ; the 
battle of St. Alban's was fought in the 33rd year 
of that reign. We transcribe the passages from 
the Chroniclers upon which Shakspere has con- 
structed his plot. Hall says, — 

"During this trouble was a parliament sum- 
moned to begin at Westminster in the mouth 
of October next following. Before which time 
Richard Duke of York, being in Ireland, by swift 
couriers and flying posts, was advertised of the 
great victory gained by his party at the field of 
Northampton, and also knew that the king was 
now in case to be kept and ordered at his pleasure 
and will ; wherefore, losing no time, nor slugging 
one hour, he sailed from Develine to Chester with 
no small company, and by long journeys came to 
the city of London, which he entered the Friday 
next before the feast of Saint Edwai-d the Con- 
fessor, with a sword borne naked before him, and 
took his lodging in the king's own palace, where- 
16G 



upon the common people babbled that he should 
be king, and that King Henry should no longer 
reign. During the time of this parliament, the 
Duke of York, with a bold countenance, entered 
into the chamber of the peers and sat down in 
the throne royal under the cloth of estate (which 
is the king's peculiar seat), and in the presence a3 
well of the nobility as of the spirituality (after a 
pause made) said these words in effect." * * * * 

Hall then gives a long oration, which Holiushed 
copies, with the following remarks : — " Master 
Edward Hall, in his Chronicle, rnaketh mention 
of an oration which the Duke of York uttered, 
sitting in the regal seat there in the chamber of 
the peers, either at this his first coming in 
amongst them, or else at some one time after, the 
which we have thought good also to set down ; 
though John Whethamsted, the Abbot of St. 
Alban's, who lived in those days, and by all 
likelihood was there present at the parliameut, 
maketh no further recital of any words which the 
duke should utter at that time in that his book 
of records, where he entreateth of this matter." 
Hall thus proceeds : — " When the duke had thus 
ended his oration, the lords sat still like images 
graven in the wall, or dumb gods, neither whisper- 
ing nor speaking, as though their mouths had 
been sewed up. The duke, perceiving none answer 
to be made to his declared purpose, not well 
content with their sober silence and taciturnity, 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



advised them well to digest and ponder the effect 
of his oration and saying, and so, neither fully 
displeased nor all pleased, departed to his lodging 
in the king's palace." 

The compromise upon which the parliament re- 
solved is thus noticed by Hall : — " After long 
arguments made, and deliberate consultation had 
among the peers, prelates, and commons of the 
realm, upon the vigil of All Saints it was con- 
descended and agreed by the three estates, for so 
much as King Henry had been taken as king by 
the space of xxxviii years and more, that he should 
enjoy the name and title of king, and have pos- 
session of the realm, during his life natural : And 
if he either died or resigned, or forfeited the 
same for infringing any point of this concord, 
then the said crown aud authority royal should 
immediately be divoluted to the Duke of York, 
if he then lived, or else to the next heir of his 
line and lineage, and that the duke from thence- 
forth should be protector and regent of the land. 
Provided alway, that if the king did closely or 
apertly study or go about to break or alter this 
agreement, or to compass or imagine the death or 
destruction of the said duke or his blood, then he 
to forfeit the crown, and the Duke of York to 
take it. These articles, with many other, were 
not only written, sealed, and sworn by the two 
parties, but also were enacted in the high court of 
parliament. For joy whereof, the king, having in 
his company the said duke, rode to the cathedral 
church of Saint Paul within the city of London ; 
and there, on the day of All Saints, went solemnly, 
with the diadem on his head, in procession, and 
was lodged a good space after in the bishop's 
palace, near to the said church. And upon the 
Saturday next ensuing Richard Duke of York 
was, by the sound of a trumpet, solemnly pro- 
claimed heir apparent to the crown of England, 
and protector of the realm." 

The battle of Wakefield soon followed this 
hollow compromise. The main incidents of the 
third and fourth scenes are built upon the chro- 
niclers. Hall writes thus :— " The Duke of York 
with his people descended down in good order and 
array, and was suffered to pass forward toward the 
main battle : but when he was in the plain ground 
between his castle and the town of Wakefield he 
was environed on every side, like a fish in a net, 
or a deer in a buckstall : so that he, manfully 
fighting, was within half an hour slain and dead, 
and his whole army discomfited ; and with him 
died of his trusty friends, his two bastard uncles, Sir 
John and Sir Hugh Mortimers, Sir Davy Halle hia 
chief counsellor, Sir Hugh Hastings, Sir Thomas 
Nevel, William and Thomas Aparre,both brethren, 
and two thousand and eight hundred other, 
whereof many were young gentlemen and heirs of 
great parentage in the south part, whose lineages 
revenged their deaths within four months next 
and immediately ensuing. * * * * Whilst this 
battle was in fighting, a priest called Sir Robert 
A spall, chaplain and schoolmaster to the young 
Earl of Rutland, ii son to the above named Duke 
of York, scarce of the age of xii years, a fair 



gentleman, and a maidenlike person, perceiving 
that flight was more safeguard than tarrying, both 
for him and his master, secretly conveyed the 
earl out of the field, by the Lord Clifford's band, 
toward the town ; but ere he could enter into a 
house he was by the said Lord Clifford espied, 
followed, and taken, and by reason of his apparel 
demanded what he was. The young gentleman, 
dismayed, had not a word to speak, but kneeled 
on his knees imploring mercy, and desiring grace, 
both with holding up his hands and making 
dolorous countenance, for his speech was gone for 
fear. Save him, said his chaplain, for he is a 
prince's son, and peradventure may do you good 
here-after. With that word, the Lord Clifford 
marked him, and said, By God's blood, thy father 
slew mine, and so will I do thee and all thy kin : 
and with that word stuck the earl to the heart 
with his dagger, and bade his chaplain bear the 
earl's mother and brother word what he had done 
and said." 

This ferocious revenge of Clifford is commented 
upon with just indignation by Hall : — " In this act 
the Lord Clifford was accompted a tyrant, and no 
gentleman." He then proceeds to describe the 
death of the Duke of York :— " This cruel'Clifford 
and deadly bloodsupper, not content with this 
homicide, or childkilling, came to the place where 
the dead corpse of the Duke of York lay, and 
caused his head to be stricken off, and set on it a 
crown of paper, and so fixed it on a pole, and pre- 
sented it to the queen, not lying far from the field, 
in great despite and much derision, saying, Madam, 
your war is done, here is your king's ransom : at 
which present was much joy and great rejoicing ; 
but many laughed then that sore lamented after, 
as the queen herself, aud her son : and many were 
glad then of other men's deaths, not knowing that 
their own were near at hand, as the Lord Clifford, 
and other. But, surely, man's nature is so frail, 
that things passed be soon forgotten, and mischiefs 
to come be not foreseen. After this victory by the 
queen and her party obtained, she caused the Earl 
of Salisbury, with all the other prisoners, to be sent 
to Pomfret, and there to be beheaded, and sent all 
their heads, and the Duke's head of York, to be 
set upon poles over the gate of the city of York, in 
despite of them and their lineage." 

The circumstances attending the death of York 
are, however, differently told. Holinshed says, — 
" Some write that the duke was taken alive, and in 
derision caused to stand upon a molehill, on whose 
head they put a garland instead of a crown, which 
they had fashioned and made of segges or bulrushes, 
and having so crowned him with that garland they 
kneeled down afore him as the Jews did to Christ 
in scorn, saying to him, Hail, king without rule ; 
hail, king without heritage ; hail, duke and prince 
without people or possessions. And at length, 
having thus scorned him with these and divers 
other the like despiteful words, they stroke off his 
head, which (as ye have heard) they presented 
to the queen." The poet has taken the most 
picturesque parts of the two narratives. 



1C7 




fc ictiu7"~ -7^7- 



[Scenell. Before rork.] 



ACT II. 



SCENE I — A Plain near Mortimer's Cross in 
Herefordshire. 

Drums. Enter Edward and Richard, with 
their Forces, marching. 

Edw. I wonder how our princely father 'scap'd; 
Or whether he be 'scap'd 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, rnethinks, wc should have 

heard 
The happy tidings of his good escape. 
How fares my brother ? why is he so sad ? 

Rich. I cannot joy, until I be rcsolv'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. 
Mcthought, he bore him in the thickest troop 
As doth a lion in a herd of neat : 
Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs ; 

16S 



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, 't is prize a 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 ! 

Edto. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three 
suns? 

Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect 
sun ; 
Not separated with the racking clouds, 
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 this the heaven figures some event. 

Edw. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet 
never heard of. 

a Prize. So the folio; the quartos, pridt. 



Act II ] 



THIED PAET OF KING HENEY VI. 



[Scene 1. 



I think it cites us, brother, to the field ; 
That we, the sons of brave Plantageuet, 
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 too 

much. 
Rich. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. 
Mess. Environed he was with many foes ; 
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy 
Against the Greeks that would have entered 

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 ; 
But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm 
Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen : 
Who crown'd the gracious duke, in high despite ; 
Laugh'd in his face ; and, when with grief he 

wept, 
The ruthless queen gave him, to dry his cheeks, 
A napkin steeped in the harmless blood 
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford 

slain: 
And, after many scorns, many foid taunts, 
They took Ids 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. 

Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean 

upon, 
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay ! 
O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain 
The flower of Europe for his chivalry'; 
And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, 
Eor, 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 iu the ground be closed up in rest : 

a Meeds — merits. 



Eor never henceforth shall I joy again, 
Never, O never, shall I 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 

burthen ; 
Eor 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 '11 vcnge 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 
Forces. 

War. How now, fair lords ? What fare ? what 

news abroad ? 
Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should 
recount 
Our baleful news, and at each word's deliverance 
Stab poniards in our flesh, till all were told, 
The words would add more anguish than the 
wounds. 

valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. 

Edw. Warwick ! Warwick ! that Planta- 
geuet 
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, 

1 come to tell you things sitli then befallen. 
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, 
Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, 
Tidings, as swiftly as the post 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,*] 

a This line is not in the folio, but is introduced from the 
quartos. 



169 



Act II] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene 1. 



Marcli'd towards St. Alban's 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. Alban's met, 
Our battles joiu'd, and both sides fiercely fought : 
Bat, whether 'twas the coldness of the kiug, 
Who look'd full gently on his warlike queen, 
That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleeu; 
Or whether 't was 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 thresher with a flail, — 
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. 
I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, 
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. 

Echo. 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 needfid war. 
Rich. 'T was odds, belike, when valiant War- 
wick 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 shalt know, this strong right hand of 

mine 
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 ; 
'T is 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, 

170 



And wrap our bodies iu 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 then 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 beside 
May make against the house of Lancaster. 
Their power, I think is thirty thousand strong : 
Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, 
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, ria ! 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. 

Rich. Ay now, methinks, I hear great "War- 
wick speak : 
Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day 
That cries — Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. 
Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I 
lean; 
And when thou fail'st a (as God forbid the hour !) 
Must Edward fall, which 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 shalt 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. 
Rich. 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 strike up, drums ;— God, and Saint 
George, for us ! 

Enter a Messenger. 

War. How now ? what news ? 

a Fail'st. So the folio ; but it is sometimes printed fail'st. 
Tlie quartos read fuint'st. 



Act II.l 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



rscEKE n. 



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. 
War. Why then it sorts, brave warriors; Let's 
away. [Exeunt. 

SCENE IT.— Before York. 

Etder King Henry, Queen Margaret, the 
Prince of Wales, Clifford, and Northum- 
berland, with Forces. 

Q. Mar. 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 ? 

K. Hen. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear 
their wrack ; — 
To see this sight, it irks my very soul. 
Withhold revenge, dear God ! 't is not my fault, 
Nor 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 ? 
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, Hke a loving sire ; 
Thou, being a king, blcss'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 used with fearful 

flight,) 
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, 
Offering their own lives in their youngs' defence? 
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent ! 
Were it not pity that this goodly boy 
Should lose his birthright by his father's fault ; 
And long hereafter say unto his child, — 
' What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, 
My careless father fondly 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. 

K. Hen. 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 ? 
I '11 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 ! 

Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits ; cur 
foes are nigh, 
And this soft courage makes your followers faint. 
You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ; 
Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently. 
Edward, kneel down. 

K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight ; 
And learn this lesson, — Draw thy sword in right. 

Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly 
leave, 
I '11 draw it as apparent to the crown, 
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, for they are at hand. 
Clif. I would your highness would depart the 
field; 
The queen hath best success when you are ab- 
sent. 
Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to 

our fortune. 
K. Hen. Why, that 's my fortune too ; there- 
fore I '11 stay. 
North. Be it with resolution then to fight. 
Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble 
lords, 



a Darraign. It is curious that the e.der quartos have a 
word which sounds more modern — prepare. To darraign is 
used by Chaucer: — 

" Full prively two harneis hath he dight, 
Loth suflisant and mate to darrcine 
The bataille in the feld betwix hem tweine.' 

171 



Act II.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI 



[SCENE II. 



And hearten those that fight in your defence :^ 
Unsheathe your sword, good father ; cry, ' Saint 
George ! ' 

March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, 
Warwick, 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 ? 

Q. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insult- 
ing 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 ; for, as I hear, 
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 ? 
Rich. 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, 

was it not ? 
Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. 
Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the 

fight. 
War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield 

the crown ? 
Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongued War- 
wick ! dare you speak ? 
When you and I met at St. Alban's last, 
Your legs did better service than your hands. 
War. Then 't was my turn to fly, and now 't is 

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, 1 hold thee reve- 
rently ; 
Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain 
The execution of my big-swoln heart 
Upon that Clifford, that cruel chUd-killer. 
Clif. I slew thy father : Call'st thou him a 
child? 
172 



Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous 
coward, 
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ; 
But, ere sunset, I '11 make thee curse the deed. 
K. lien. Have done with words, my lords, 

and hear me speak. 
Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close 

thy lips. 
K. Hen. 1 prithee, give no limits to my 
tongue ; 
I 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, unsheathe thy sword : 
By him that made us all, I am resolv'd 
That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. 

Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right ox no ? 
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 
is right, 
There is no wrong, but everything is right. 
Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother 
stands ; 
For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. 
Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire 
nor dam ; 
But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatick, a 
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, 
As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. 

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, 
Whose father bears the title of a king, 
(As if a channel b should be call'd the sea,) 
Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art ex- 

traught, 
To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart ? 
Edw. A wisp of straw c 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 ; 
And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd 
By that false woman as this king by thee. 
His father revell'd in the heart of France, 
And tam'd the king, and made the dauphin 
stoop ; 

a Stigmaticl: Sec Note on Henry VI., Part II., Act v., 
Sc. i. 

b Channel, according to Malone, is equivalent to what we 
now call a kennel. 

c Wisp of straw. Capell conjectures that there is some 

allusion in this expression to the queen's alleged ineonti- 

nency— to which the word callet also refers. It is similarly 

applied by Nashe in his ' Apology of Pierce Pennilesse :'— 

" A wisp, a wisp, you kitchen-stuff wrangler I " 



Act IT.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Sci SE 111. 



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, 
But 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 kiug, 
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 iucrease, 
We set the axe to thy usurping root : 
And though the edge hath something hit our- 
selves, 
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, 
We'll never leave till we have hewn thee 

down, 
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. 

Echo. And, in this resolution, I defy thee ; 
Not willing auy longer conference, 
Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak. 
Sound trumpets ! — let our bloody colours wave ! — 
And either victory, or else a grave. 
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. 

Edw. No, wrangling woman ; we '11 no longer 
stay; 
These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III— Afield of Battle between 
Towton and Saxton in Yorkshire. 

Alarums : Excursions. Enter Warwick. 

War. Forspent* with toil, as runners with a 
race, 
I lay me down a little while to breathe : 
For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, 
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their 

strength, 
And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile. 
Enter Edward, running. 
Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, un- 
gentle death ! 
For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is 
clouded. 
War. How now, my lord? what hap? what 
hope of good ? 



a Forspent. So the folio; the quartos, sore spent. In the 
eame manner we have in King Johnforwearied— excessively 
rearied. 



Enter George. 
Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad de- 
spair ; 
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us : 
What counsel give you, whither shall we fly ? 
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 with- 
drawn 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 cry'd, — 
Like to a dismal clangour heard from far, — 
' Warwick, revenge ! brother, revenge my death ! ' 
So underneath the belly of their steeds, 
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, 
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. 

War. Then let the earth be drunken with our 
blood : 
I '11 kill my horse, because I will not fly. 
Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, 
Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage ; 
And look upon, as if the tragedy 
Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors ? 
Here on my knee I vow to God above, 
I'll never pause again, never stand still, 
Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine, 
Or fortune given me measure of revenge. 

Edw. 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 untd 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 we thrive, promise them such rewards 
As victors wear at the Olympian games : 

173 



Act II.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scenes IV., V. 



This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ; 
For yet is hope of life, and victory. 
Forc-slow a no longer, 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. 

CI if. Now, Richard, I am with thee here 
alone : 
This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York; 
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rut- 
land; 
And here 's the heart that triumphs in their death, 
And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and 

brother, 
To execute the like upon thyself; 
And so, have at thee. 

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

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V— Another Part of the Field, 

Alarum. Enter King Henry. 

K. lien. This battle fares like to the morn- 
ing's war, 
When dying clouds contend with growing light ; 
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, 
Can neither call it perfect day nor night. 
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind ; 
Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea 
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : 
Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, (he 

wind: 
Now, one the better ; then, another best ; 
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, 
Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : 
So is the equal poise of this fell war. 
Here on this molehill will I sit me down. 
To whom God will, there be the victory ! 
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, 
Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both 
They prosper best of all when I am thence. 
'Would I were dead! if God's good will were so : 



174 



» Fort-slow — delay — loiter. 



For what is in this world but grief and woe ? 

O God ! methinks it were a happy life, 

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 fidl complete, 

How many hours bring about the day, 

How many days will finish up the year, 

How many years a mortal man may Uve. 

Wnen 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, months, and years,* 

Pass'd over to the end they were created, 

Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. 

Ali, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how 

lovely ! 
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade 
To shepherds, looking on then- silly sheep, 
Than doth a rich embroider' d canopy 
To kings, that fear then- subjects' treachery 1 
0, 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 viauds 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, 
dragging in the dead body. 

Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. 
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, 
May be 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 
To some man else, as this dead man doth me. 
Who 's this ? — God ! it is my father's face, 
Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. 
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 receiv'd my life, 



*■ Rowe changed the line thus: — 
" So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years. 



Act II ] 



THIRD PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene VI. 



Have by my hands of life bereaved him. 

Pardon 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 then- 
nil. 
K. Hen. piteons spectacle ! bloody times ! 

Whilst Rons war, and battle for their dens, 

Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. 

Weep, wretched man, I '11 aid thee, tear for tear; 

And let our hearts, and eyes, like civil war, 

Be blind with tears, and break o'erckarg'd with 
grief. 

Enter a Father, who has killed his So?i, with the 
bod 'j/ 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 an hundred blows. 
But let me see : — is this our foeman's face ? 
Ah, 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 witli 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 ! 

K. Hen. Woe above woe ! grief more than 
common grief ! 
0, that my death would stay these rutbful deeds ! 
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, present : 
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 with me, and ne'er be satisfied ? 

Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my 
son, 
Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ? 

K. Hen. How will the country, for these woe- 
ful chances, 
Mis-think the king, and not be satisfied ! 

Sor. . Was ever son so rued a father's death ? 

Fath. Was ever father so bemoan'd a son ? 



> Stratagems. M. Mason has shown that stratagems here 
means disastrous events — not merely the events of war, its 
surprises and snares. 



K. Hen. Was ever king so griev'd for sub- 
jects' woe ? 
Much is your sorrow ; mine, ten times so much. 
Son. I ! 11 bear thee hence, where I may weep 
my fill. [Exit, with the body. 

Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy wind- 
ing-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 a will thy father be, 
Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, b 
As Priam was for all his valiant sons. 
I '11 bear thee hence ; and let them fight that will 
For I have murther'd where I should not kill. 

[Exit, with the body. 
K. Hen. Sad-kearted men, much overgone 
with care, 
Here sits a king more woful than you are. 

Alarums: Excursions. Enter Queen Marga- 
ret, Prince of Wales, and Exeter. 

Prince. Fly, father, fly ! for all your friends 
are fled, 
And Warwick rages like a chafed bull : 
Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit. 

Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord ; towards Ber- 
wick post amain : 
Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds 
Having the fearful flying hare in sight, 
With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, 
And bloody steel grasp' d in their ireful hands, 
Are at our backs ; and therefore hence amain. 
Exe. Away ; for vengeance comes along with 
them : 
Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed ; 
Or else come after, I '11 away before. 

K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet 
Exeter ; 
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go 
Whither the queen intends. Forward ; away ! 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI.— The same. 

A loud Alarum. Enter Clifford, tcovnded. 

Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it 
dies, 
Which, whiles 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. 

a Obsequious— performing obsequies. 
b Sad. This word was given by Rowe instead of Men In 
the folio. 

175 



Act J I.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene VI. 



Impairing Henry, strengthening mis-proud York, 
[The common people swarm like summer flies : d ] 
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ? 
And who shines now but Henry's enemies ? 

Phoebus ! 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 ; 
I, 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 ? 
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 : 
Come, York and Richard, Warwick, and the 

rest ; 

1 stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast. 

[He faints. 

Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward, George, 
Richard, Montague, Warwick, and Sol- 
diers. 

Edw. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune 
bids us pause, 
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful 

looks. 
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ; 
That led calm Henry, though he were a king, 
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, 
Command an argosy to stem the waves. 
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with 
them ? 
War. No, 't is impossible he should escape : 
For. though before his face I speak the words, 
Your brother Richard mark'cl 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 ? 
Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's 
departing. 



«■ This line is not in the folio, but has been introduced 
from the quartos. 

176 



Edw. See who it is : and, now the battle 's 
ended, 
If friend, or foe, let him be gently used. 

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis 
Clifford; 
Who, not contented that he lopp'd the branch 
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, 
But set his murthering knife unto the root 
From whence that tender spray did sweetly 

spring,— 
I mean, our princely father, duke of York. 
War. From off the gates of York fetch down 
the head, 
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there : 
Instead whereof let this supply the room ; 
Measure for measure must be answered. 

Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to 
our house, 
That nothing sung but death to us and ours : 
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening 

sound, 
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. 
[Attendants bring the body forward. 
War. I think his understanding is bereft : — 
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to 

thee ?— 
Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, 
And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. 
Rich. 0, would he did ! and so, perhaps, he 
doth ; 
'T is but his policy to counterfeit, 
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts 
Which in the time of death he gave our father. 
Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager 3 

words. 
Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. 
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. 
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. 
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy 

faults. 
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son tc 

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, 

a Eager. — sour,— sharp. 



Act II.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[scene vr. 



This hand should chop it off; and with the 



issuing blood 



Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst 
York and young Rutland could not satisfy. 
War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's 

head, 
And rear it in the place your father's stands. 
And now to London with triumphant march, 
There to be crowned England's royal king. 
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to 

Trance 
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 buz, 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. 

Edio. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let 
it be : 
For in thy shoulder do I build my seat ; 
And never will I undertake the thinsr 
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. 

liich. Let me be duke of Clarence ; George, 
of Gloster ; 
For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. 

War. Tut, that's a foolish observation; 
Richard, be duke of Gloster. Now to London, 
To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt. 




["Field near Towton.] 



Histories. — Vol. II. 



N 



177 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT II. 



HISTOEICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



The events which followed the death of the 
Duke of York are thus described by Hall :—" The 
Earl of March, so commonly called, but after the 
death of his father in deed and in right very Duke 
of York, lying at Gloucester, hearing of the death 
of his noble father, and loving brother, and 
trusty friends, was wonderfully amazed ; but 
after comfort given to him by his faithful lover3 
and assured allies, he removed to Shrewsbmy 
and other towns upon the river of Severn, de- 
claring to them the murder of his father, the 
jeopardy of himself, and the unstable state and 
ruin of the realm. The people on the Marches of 
Wales, which above measure favoured the lineage 
of the lord Mortimer, more gladly offered him 
their aid and assistance than he it either instantly 
required or heartily desired, so that he had a 
puissant army, to the number of twenty-three 
thousand, ready to go against the queen and the 
murderers of his father. But when he was setting 
forward news were brought to him that Jasper 
Earl of Pembroke, half brother to King' Henry, 
and James Butler Earl of Ormond and Wiltshire, 
had assembled together a great number, both of 
Welsh and Irish people, suddenly to surprise and 
take him and his friends, and as a captive to 
convey 1dm to the queen. The Duke of York, 
called Earl of March, somewhat spurred and 
quickened with these novelties, retired back, and 
met with his enemies in a fair plain near to 
Mortimer's Cross, not far from Hereford east, on 
Candlemas-day in the morning, at which time the 
sun (as some write) appeared to the Earl of March 
like three suns, and suddenly joined altogether in 



one, and that upon the sight thereof he took 
such courage that he fiercely set on his enemies, 
and them shortly discomfited : for which cause 
men imagined that he gave the sun in his full 
brightness for his cognizance or badge." 

The poet passes over the battle of Mortimer's 
Cross, but gives us the incident of the three suns. 
He also, not crowding the scene with an un- 
dramatic succession of events nearly similar, 
omits all mention of the second battle of St. 
Alban's, in which the queen was victorious. This 
battle was fruitless to the cause of Lancaster, 
for Edward was almost immediately after recog- 
nised as king by the parliament assembled in 
London. The poet postpones this event, and, 
after the imaginary interview of the second scene, 
brings us to the great battle of Towton, which 
is thus described by Hall : — " This battle was 
sore fought, for hope of life was set on side on 
every part, and taking of prisoners was proclaimed 
as a great offence ; by reason whereof every man 
determined either to conquer or to die in the field. 
This deadly battle and bloody conflict continued 
ten hours in doubtful victory, the one part some 
time flowing and sometime ebbing ; but, in con- 
clusion, King Edward so courageously comforted 
his men, refreshing the weary and helping the 
wounded, that the other part was discomforted 
and overcome, and, like men amazed, fled toward 
Tadcaster bridge to save themselves. ***** 
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 against his lord." 




u. r.nfr 



£. c cene I. Chase in the North.] 



ACT III. 



SCENE I.— A Chase in the North of England. 

Enter Two Keepers, with cross-bows in their 
hands. 

1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we '11 

shroud ourselves ; 
For through this laund a anon the deer will come ; 
And in this covert will we make our stand, 
Culling the principal of all the deer. 

2 Keep. I '11 stay above the hill, so both may 

shoot. 
1 Keep. That cannot be ; the noise of thy 

cross-bow 
Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. 
Here stand we both, and aim we at the best : 
And, for the time shall not seem tedious, 

a Laiind (the same as lawn) is, according to Camden, 
a plain among trees." 

N 2 



I '11 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 be 
be past. 

Enter King Henry, disguised, with a prayer- 
book. 

K. Hen. Erom Scotland am I stol'n, even of 

pure iove, 
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 
No, Harry, Harry, 't is no land of thine ; 
Thy place is fill' d, thy sceptre wrung from thee, 
Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast 

anointed : 
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 ? 

179 



Act III.] 



THIRD PART OF KINO HENRY VI. 



[Scene L 



1 Keep. Ay, here 's a deer whose skin 's a 

keeper's fee : 

This is the quondam king ; let 's seize upon him. 
K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adver- 
sities : a 

For wise men say it is the wisest course. 

2 Keep. Why linger we ? let us lay hands 

upon him. 

1 Keep. Forbear a while ; we '11 hear a little 

more. 
K. Hen. My queen and son are gone to France 
for aid ; 

And, as I hear, the great commanding War- 
wick 

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 while 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 his 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, 

To strengthen and support king Edward's place. 

O Margaret, thus 't will be ; and thou, poor soul, 

Art then forsaken, as thou weut'st forlorn. 

2 Keep. Say, what art thou that talk'st of 

kings and queens ? 
K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I 
was born to : 
A man at least, for less I should not be ; 
And men may talk of kings, and why not I ? 
2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a | 

king. 
K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind ; and that 's 

enough. 
5 Keep. But if thou be a king, where is thy 
crown ? 

» Pope's reading. The folio has " the sower adversaries." 
180 



K. Hen. 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- Weil, if you be a king crown'd with 
content, 
Your crown content and you must be con- 
tented 
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. 
K. Hen. But did you never swear and break 

an oath ? 
2 Keep. No, never such an oath ; nor wiL 

not now. 
K. Hen. Where. did you dwell when I was 

king of England ? 
2 Keep. Here in this country where we now 

remain. 
K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months 
old; 
My father, and my grandfather, were kings ; 
And you were sworn true subjects unto me : 
And, tell me then, have you not broke your 
oaths ? 
1 Keep. No; 
For we were subjects but while you were king. 
K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe 
a man ? 
Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. 
Look, as I blow this feather from my face, 
And as the ah- 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, 

kiin* Edward. 
K. Hen. So would you be agaiii 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. 

K. Hen. Li God's name, lead; your king's 
name be obey'd : 
And what God will that a let your king perform ; 
And what he will I humbly yield unto. \_Exeunt. 

a That — So the original ; but by some continued error al. 
the early modern editions had "then let your king perform.' 1 



Acr in.] THIRD PART OF 


KING HENRY VI. »oui u 


SCENE II. — Loudon. A Boom in the Palace. 


Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. 




[Gloster and Clarence retire to the 
other side. 


Enter King Edward, Gloster, Clarence, and 


Lady Grey. 


K. Edw. Now tell me, madam, do you love 


K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Alban's 


your children ? 


Beld 


L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. 


This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, 


K. Edw. And would you not do much to do 


His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror : 


them good ? 


Her suit is now, to repossess those lands ; 


L. Grey. To do them good I would sustain 


Which we in justice cannot well deny, 


some harm. 


Because in quarrel of the house of York 


K. Edw. Then get your husband's lands, to 


The worthy gentleman did lose his life. 


do them good. 


Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant her 


L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. 


suit; 


K. Edw. I '11 tell you how these lands are to 


It were dishonour to deny it her. 


be got. 


K. Edw. It were no less; but yet I'll make 


L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your high- 


a pause. 


ness' service. 


Glo. Yea ! is it so ? 


K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I 


I see the lady hath a thing to grant, 


give them ? 


Before the king will grant her humble suit. 


L. Grey. What you command that rests in me 


Clar. He knows the game: How true he 


to do. 


keeps the wind ! [Aside. 


K. Edw. But you will take exceptions to my 


Glo. Silence! [Aside. 


boon. 


K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of your suit ; 


L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot 


And come some other time, to know our mind. 


do it. 


L. Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook 


K. Edw. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean 


delay : 


to ask. 


May it please your highness to resolve me now ; 


L. Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace 


And what your pleasure is shall satisfy me. 


commands. 


Glo. [Aside."] Ay, widow? then I'll warrant 


Glo. He plies her hard ; and much rain wears 


you all your lands, 


the marble. [Aside. 


An if what pleases him shall pleasure you. 


Clar. As red as fire ! nay, then her wax must 


Fight closer, or, good faith, you'll catch a 


melt. [Aside. 


blow. 


L. Grey. Why stops my lord ? shall I not hear 


Clar. I fear her not unless she chance to fall. 


my task ? 


[Aside. 


K. Edw. An easy task ; 't is but to love a king. 


Glo. God forbid that ! for he'll take vantages. 


L. Grey. That 's soon perform'd, because I 


[Aside. 


am a subject. 


K. Edw. How many children hast thou, 


K. Edw. Why then, thy husband's lands I 


widow ? tell me. 


freely give thee. 


Clar. I think, he means to beg a child of her. 


Z. Grey. I take my leave with many thousand 


[Aside. 


thanks. 


Glo. Nay, whip me then; he'll rather give 


Glo. The match is made ; she seals it with a 


her two. [Aside. 


curt'sy. 


L. Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. 


K. Edw. But stay thee, 't is the fruits of love 


Glo. You shall have four, if you'll be rul'd 


I mean. 


by him. [Aside. 


Z. Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving 


K. Edw. 'T were pity they snould lose then- 


liege. 


father's lands. 


A. Edw. Ay, but I fear me, in another sense. 


Z. Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it 


Wnat love think' st thou I sue so much to get ? 


then. 


Z. Grey. My love till death, my humble 


K. Edw. Lords, give us leave : I '11 try this 


thanks, my prayers ; 


widow's wit. 


That love which virtue begs and virtue grants. 


Glo. Ay, good leave have you; for you will 


K. Edw. No, by my troth, I did not mean 


have leave 


such love. 

1S1 



act hi.] THIRD PAET OF 


KESG HENRY VL [Scem 11. 


Z. Grey. Why, then you mean not as I 


L. Grey. 'Twill grieve your grace my son 


thought you did. 


should call you father. 


K. Edw. But now you partly may perceive 


K. Edw. No more than when my a daughters 


my mind. 


call thee mother. 


L. Grey. My mind will never grant what I 


Thou art a widow, and thou hast some children : 


perceive 


And, by God's mother, I, being but a bachelor, 


Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. 


Have other some : why, 't is a happy thing 


K. Edw. To tell thee plain, I aim to lie with 


To be the father unto many sons. 


thee. 


Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen. 


L. Grey. To tell you plain, I had rather lie in 


Glo. The ghostly father now hath done nis 


prison. 


shrift. [Aside. 


K. Edw. Why, then thou shalt not have thy 


Clar. When he was made a shriver, 't was for 


husband's lands. 


shift. [Aside. 


L. Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be 


K. Edw. Brothers, you muse what chat we 


my dower ; 


two have had. 


For by that loss I will not purchase them. 


Glo. The widow likes it not, for she looks 


K. Edw. Therein thou wrong' &t thy children 


very saa. 


mightily. 


K. Edw. You'd think it strange if I should 


L. Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both 


marrv her. 


them and me. 


Clar. To whom, my lord ? 


But, mighty lord, this merry inclination 


K. Eiod. Why, Clarence, to myself. 


Accords not with the sadness* of my suit ; 


Glo. That would be ten days' wonder, at the 


Please you dismiss me, either with ay or no. 


least. 


K. Edw. Ay, if thou wilt say ay to my re- 


Clar. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. 


quest : 


Glo. By so much is the wonder in extremes. 


No, if thou dost say no to my demand. 


K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers : I can tell 


L. Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at 


you both 


an end. 


Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. 


Glo. The widow likes him not, she knits her 




brows. [Aside. 


Enter a Nobleman. 


Clar. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. 


Nob. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is 


[Aside. 


taken, 


K. Edw. [Aside.'] Her looks do argue her re- 


And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. 


plete with modesty ; 


K. Edw. See that he be convey'd unto the 


Her words do show her wit incomparable. 


Tower : 


All her perfections challenge sovereignty : 


And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, 


One way, or other, she is for a king ; 


To question of his apprehension. 


And she shall be my love, or else my queen. 


Widow, go you along ; — Lords, use her honour- 


Say, that king Edward take thee for his 


ably. 


queen ? 


[Exeunt King Edward, Lady Grey, 


L. Grey. 'T is better said than done, my gra- 


Clarence, and Lord. 


cious lord : 


Glo. Ay, Edward will use women honour- 


[ am a subject fit to jest withal, 


ably. 


But far unlit to be a sovereign. 


'Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, 


K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear 


That from his loins no hopeful branch may 


to thee, 


spring, 


I speak no more than what my soul intends ; 


To cross me from the golden time I look for ! 


And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. 


And yet, between my soul's desire and me, 


L. Grey. And that is more than I will yield 


(The'lustful Edward's title buried,) 


unto: 


Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, 


I know I am too mean to be your queen : 


And all the unlook d-for issue of their bodies, 


And yet too good to be your concubine. 


To take their rooms, ere I can place myself : 


K. Edw. You cavil, widow; I did mean my 


A cold premeditation for my purpose ! 


queen. 


? 




" S»n in the original ; but in some modern editions 


» Sadness — seriousness. 
182 


erroneously thy. 



Act III.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene in. 



Why, then I do but dream on sovereignly ; 
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 ; 
And chides the sea that sunders him from 

thence, 
Saying, he'll lade it dry to have his way : 
So do I wish 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'er weens too 

much, 
Unless 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 

looks. 

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 j 

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, 

1 '11 make my heaven to dream upon the crown ; 
And, whiles I live, to account this world but 

hell, 
Until my mis-shap'd trunk, that bears this head, 
Be round impaled with a glorious crown. 
And yet I know not how to get th * f;rown, 
For many lives stand between me ind home ; 
And I, — like one lost in a thorny wood, 
That rents the thorns, and is rent with the 

thorns, 
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 murther whiles 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 '11 drown more sailors than the mermaid shall ; 
I '11 slay more gazers than the basilisk ; 
I '11 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 cameleon ; 
Change shapes with Proteus, for advantages, 
And set the murtherous Machiavel to school. 
Can I do this, and cannot get a crown ? 
Tut ! were it further off I '11 pluck it down. 

[Exit. 

SCENE III. — France. A Room in the Palace. 

Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, and 
Lady Bona, attended ; the King takes his 
state. Then enter Queen Margaret, Piunce 
Edward her son, and the Earl of Oxford. 

K. Leio. Fair queen of England, worthy Mar- 
garet, [Rising. 
Sit down with us ; it ill befits thy state 
And birth that thou should'st stand, while Lewis 
doth sit. 
Q. Mar. No, mighty king of France ; now 
Margaret 
Must strike her sail, and learn awhile 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. 
K. Lew. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs 

this deep despair ? 
Q. Mar. From such a cause as fills mine eyes 
with tears, 
And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in 
cares. 
K. Lew. Whate'cr it be, be thou still like thy- 
self, 
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. 
Q. Mar. Those gracious words revive my 
drooping thoughts, 
And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. 
Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis, 
That Henry, sole possessor of my love, 

183 



Act III.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene III 



Is, 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 scat 

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 see'st, ourselves in heavy plight. 
K. Lew. Renowned queen, with patience calm 
the storm, 
W bile we bethink a means to break it off. 
Q. Mar. The more we stay the stronger grows 

our foe. 
K. Lew. The more I stay the more I'll suc- 
cour thee. 
Q. Mar. O, but impatience waiteth on true 
sorrow : 
And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow. 

Enter Warwick, attended. 

K. Lew. What 's he approacheth boldly to 

our presence ? 
Q. Mar. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's 

greatest friend. 
K. Leio. Welcome, brave Warwick ! What 
brings thee to France ? 
[Descending from his state. Queen Mar- 
garet rises. 
Q. Mar. Ay, now begins a second storm to 
rise ; 
For this is he that moves both wind and tide. 

War. Prom worthy Edward, king of Albion, 
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 
I 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. 

Q. Mar. If that go forward Henry's hope is 

done. 
War. And, gracious madam, [to Bona] in 
our king's behalf, 
I am 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, 

184 



Q. Mar. King Lewis, and lady Bona, hear 
me speak, 
Before you answer Warwick. His demand 
Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest 

love, 
But from deceit, bred by necessity ; 
For s 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 

marriage 
Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour : 
For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, 
Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth 
wrongs. 
War. Injurious Margaret ! 
Prince. And why not queen ? 

War. Because thy father Henry did usurp ; 
And thou no more art prince than she is 
queen. 
Oxf. 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 
discourse 
You 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 obey'dst 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 Verc, 
Was doue to death ? and more than so, my 

father, 
Even in the downfall of his mcllow'd years, 
When nature brought him to the door of death ? 



act in.] 



THIRD PAST OP KING HENPY VI. 



[Scene 1IJ 



No, Warwick, no ; while life upholds this arm, 
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. 
War. And I the house of York. 
K. Lew. Queen Margaret, prince Edward, 
aud Oxford, 
Vouchsafe at our request to stand aside, 
While I use further conference with Warwick. 
Q. Mar. Heaven grant that Warwick's words 
bewitch him not ! 

[Retiring with the Prince and Oxford. 
K. 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. 
K. Lew. But is he gracious in the people's 

eye? 
War. The more, that Henry was unfortu- 
nate. 
K. 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, 
Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, 
The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty's 

sun ; 
Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, 
Unless the lady Bona quit his pain. 

K. Lew. Now, sister, let us hear your firm 

resolve. 
Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be 
mine : — ■ 
Yet I confess, [to War.] that often ere this 

day, 
When I have heard your king's desert recounted, 
Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. 
K. Lew. 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 : 
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. 
Q. Mar. Deceitful Warwick ! it was thy de- 
vice 
By this alliance to make void my suit ; 
Before thy coming Lewis was Henry's friend. 



K. Lew. And still is friend to him and Mar- 
garet : 
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 
Erom 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 he can lose. 
And as for you yourself, our quondam queen, 
You have a father able to maintain you ; 
And better 't were you troubled him than France. 
Q. Mar. Peace, impudent and shameless War- 
wick, peace ; 
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," and thy lord's false love ; 
Eor both of you are birds of self-same feather. 

\_A horn sounded within. 
K. Lew. Warwick, this is some post to us, or 
thee. 

Enter a Messenger. 

3fess. My lord ambassador, these letters are 
for you ; 
Sent from your brother, marquis Montague ; — 
These from our king unto your majesty ; — 
And, madam, these for you; from whom— I 
know not. 

[To Margaret. They all read their 
letters. 
O.rf. I like it well, that our fair queen and 
mistress 
Smiles at her news, while Warwick frowns at 
his. 
Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as he 
were nettled : 
I hope all 's for the best. 

K. Lew. Warwick, what are thy news ? and 

yours, fair queen ? 
Q. Mar. Mine such as fill my heart with un- 

hop'd joys. 
War. Mine full of sorrow and heart's dis- 
content. 
A'. Lew. What! has your king married the 
lady Grey ? 
And now, to soothe 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 ? 

a Conveyance— juggling— artifice. 

185 



Act III.] 



THIED PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCEKE III. 



Q. Mar. 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 Ed- 
ward'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 ? 
Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ? 
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. 

Q. Mar. 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 king Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us 
With some few bands of chosen soldiers, 
I '11 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 ho- 

nour, 
Or than for strength and safety of our country. 
Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be re- 
veng'd, 
But by thy help to this distressed queen ? 
Q. Mar. Renowned prince, how shall poor 
Henry uve, 
Unless thou rescue him from foul despair ? 
Bona. My quarrel and this English queen's 

are one. 
War. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with 

yours. 
K. Lew. And mine with hers, and thine, and 
Margaret's. 
Therefore, at last, I firmly am resolv'd, 
You shall have aid. 



186 



Q. Mar. Let me give humble thanks for all at 

once. 
K. Lew. Then England's messenger, return in 
post; 
And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, 
That Lewis of Erance is sending over maskers, 
To revel it with him and his new bride : 
Thou seest what's past, go fear a thy king 
withal. 
Bona. Tell him, in hope he '11 prove a widower 
shortly, 
I '11 wear the willow garland for his sake. 

Q. Mar. 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. [Exit Mess. 

K. 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 ? 

War. This shall assure my constant loyalty : 
That if our queen and this young prince 

agree, 
I '11 join mine eldest daughter and my joy 
To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. 

Q. Mar. Yes, I agree, and thank you for your 
motion : 
Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, 
Therefore delay not, give thy hand to War- 
wick; 
And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, 
That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. 
Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well de- 
serves it ; 
xVnd here, to pledge my vow, I give my hand. 

[He gives his hand to Warwick. 
K. 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 : 

a Fear— affright. 



Act I.'I.j 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene III 



Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, 
But dreadful war shall answer his demand. 
Had he none else to make a stale a hut me ? 

» Slain— stalking-horse — as in the Comedy of Errors, — 
" Focr J am but bis state.' 



Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. 
I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown, 
And I '11 be chief to bring him down again : 
Not that I pity Henry's misery, 
But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. [Exit, 




[Scene 111 ' Welcome, brave Warwick.'] 




[Lewis XI. of France.] 



ILLUSTRATION OP ACT III. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



The first scene exhibits the capture of Heury VI. 
upon his abandonment of his secure asylum in 
Scotland. Between that period, 1464, and the ac- 
cession of Edward, three years had elapsed — -years 
of unavailing struggle on the part of the Lancas- 
trians. The capture of Henry is thus described by 
Hall : — " Whatsoever jeopardy or peril might be 
construed or deemed to have ensued by the means 
of King Heury, all such doubts were now shortly 
resolved and determined, and all fear of his doings 
were clearly put under and extinct. For he him- 
self, whether he were past all fear, or was not well 
stablished in his perfect mind, or could not long 
keep himself secret, in a disguised apparel boldly 
entered into England. He was no sooner entered 
but he was known and taken of one Cantlowe, and 
brought toward the king, whom the Earl of War- 
wick met on the way, by the king's commandment, 
and brought him through London to the Tower, and 
there he was laid in sure hold. Queen Margaret 
his wife, hearing of the captivity of her husband, 
mistrusting the chance of her son, all disconsolate 
and comfortless, departed out of Scotland and sailed 
iato Franco, where she remained with Duke Reyner 
her father till she took her unfortunate journey 
188 



into England again, where she lost both husband 
and son, and also all her wealth, honour, and 
worldly felicity." 

In the second scene the poet, with great dramatic 
skill, exhibits the course of that wooing which ended 
in the marriage of Edward with Elizabeth Wood- 
ville — an event altogether unpropitious and finally 
destructive to his house. Hall (whom we still fol- 
low, for Holinshed is almost his literal copyist) 
tells the story with great quaintness, and Shakspere 
clearly follows him : — " But now consider the old 
proverb to be true that sayeth that marriage is des- 
tiny. For during the time that the Earl of Warwick 
was thus in France concluding a marriage for king 
Edward, the king, being on hunting in the forest of 
Wichwood beside Stoney Stratford, came for his 
recreation to the manor of Grafton, where the 
duchess of Bedford sojourned, then wife to Sir 
Richard Woodville, Lord Rivers, on whom then was 
attending a daughter of hers, called Dame Elizabeth 
Grey, widow of Sir John Grey, knight, slain at the 
last battle of Saint Alban's by the power of King 
Edward. This widow, having a suit to the king, 
either to be restored by him to something taken 
from her, or requiring him of pity to have some 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



augmentation to her living, found such grace in the 
king's eyes that he not only favoured her suit, but 
much more phautasied her person ; for she was a 
woman more of formal countenance than of excel- 
lent beauty, but yet of such beauty and favour that 
with her sober demeanour, lovely looking, and 
feminine smiling (neither too wanton nor too hum- 
ble), beside her tongue so eloquent, and her wit so 
pregnant, she was able to ravish the mind of a mean 
person, when she allured and made subject to her 
the heai't of so great a king. After that King 
Edward had well considered all the lineaments of 
her body, and the wise and womanly demeanour 
that he saw in her, he determined first to attempt 
if he might provoke her to be his sovereign lady, 
promising her many gifts and fair rewards ; affirm- 
ing farther, that, if she would thereunto condescend, 
she might so fortune of his paramour and concubine 
to be changed to his wife and lawful bedfellow ; 
which demand she so wisely and with so covert 
speech answered and repugned, affirming that, as she 
was for his honour far unable to be his spouse and 
bedfellow, so for her own poor honesty she was 
too good to be either his concubine or sovereign 
lady ; that, where he was a little before heated with 
the dart of Cupid, he was now set all on a hot 
burning fire, what for the confidence that he had 
in her perfect constancy, and the trust that he had 
in her constant chastity ; and without any farther 
deliberation he determined with himself clearly to 
marry with her, after that asking counsel of them 
which he knew neither would nor once durst 
impugn his concluded purpose. But the Duchess 



of York, his mother, letted it as much as in her 
lay, alleging a precontract made by him with the 
Lady Lucy and divers other lettes ; all which doubts 
were resolved, and all things made clear, and all 
cavillations avoided. And so, privily in a morning, 
lie married her at Grafton, where he first phanta- 
sied her visage." 

The contemporary historians, with one exception, 
make no mention of the suit of Edward, through 
Warwick, for the hand of the sister of the crafty 
Lewis XI. But the poet had ample authority for 
the third scene of this act, in the relation of Hall, 
which Holinshed also adopts : — " The French king 
and his queen were not a little discontent (as I 
cannot blame them) to have their sister first de- 
manded and then granted, and in conclusion re- 
jected and apparently mocked, without any cause 
reasonable. But when the Earl of Warwick had 
perfect knowledge by the letters of his trusty 
friends that King Edward had gotten him a new 
wife, and that all that he had done with King Lewis 
in his ambassade for the conjoining of this new 
affinity was both frustrate and vain, he was earnestly 
moved and sore chafed with the chance, and thought 
it necessary that King Edward should be deposed 
from his crown and royal dignity, as an inconstant 
prince, not worthy of such a kingly office. All men 
for the most part agree that this marriage was the 
only cause why the Earl of Warwick bare grudge 
and made war on King Edward. Other affirm that 
there were other causes, which, added to this, made 
the fire to flame which before was but a little 
smoke." 





\. % 












. 








[Scene HI. ' This is his tent.'] 



ACT IV. 



SCENE I. — London. A Room in the Palact. 

Enter Gloster, Clarence, Somerset, Mont- 
ague, and others. 

Glo. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what 
think von 

4/ 

Of this new marriage with the lady Grey ? 
Hath not our brother made a worthy choice ? 
Clar. Alas, you know, 't is 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, 
Hastings, and others. 

Glo. And his well-chosen bride. 
Clar. I mind to tell him plainly what I think . 
190 



K. Edw. Now, brother of Clarence, how like 
you our choice, 
That you stand pensive, as half malcontent ? 
Clar. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl 
of Warwick; 
Which are so weak of courage and in judgment, 
That they '11 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 a 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 : 

» You, is not in the original ; added by Rowe. 



Act IV.] 



THIRD PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



rSoEHE 1. 



No ; God forbid that I should wish them sever'd 
Whom God hath join'd together : ay, and 't were 

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. 

Clar. Then this is mine opinion, that king 
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 ? 

Motif. Yet, to have join'd with Erance in such 
alliance, 
Would more have strengthen' d this our common- 
wealth 
'Gainst foreign storms, than any home-bred 
marriage. 
Hast. Why, knows not Montague that of itself 
England is safe, if true within itself ? 
Mont. Yes, but the safer when it is back*d 

with France. 
Hast. 'T is 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 then- helps only defend ourselves ; 
In 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 this 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 
Unto 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 heir 
Of the lord Bonville on your new wife's son, 
And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. 
K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wife 
That thou art malcontent ? I will provide thee. 



Clar. Li choosing for yourself you show'd your 
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. 

A'. 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, 
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 their 
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 : 
Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, 
And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. 

Glo. I hear, yet say not much, but think the 
more. \_Aside. 

Enter a Messenger. 

A'. Edw. Now, messenger, what letters or 
what news 
From France ? 

Mess. My sovereign liege, no letters ; and 
few words, 
But such as I, without your special pardon, 
Dare not relate. 

K. Edw. Go to, we pardon thee : therefore, 
in brief : 
Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess 

them. 
What answer makes king Lewis unto our letters ? 
Mess. At my depart, these were his very 
words : 
' Go tell false Edward, the supposed king, 
That Lewis of Erance is sending over maskers 
To revel it with him and his new bride.' 

A". Edw. Is Lewis so brave ? 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 '11 prove a widower shortly, 
I '11 wear the willow garland for his sake.' 
K. Edw. I blame not her, she could say little 
less; 

191 



Act IV. J 



THIRD PAST OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II, 



She had the wrong. But what said Henry's 

queen ? 
For I have heard that she was there in place. 1 
Mess. 'Tell him,' quoth she, 'my mourning 
weeds are done, 
And I am ready to put armour on.* 

K. Ed/o. 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 '11 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 pre- 
sumption. 
But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret ? 
Mess. Ay, gracious sovereign ; they are so 
link'd in friendship 
^hat young prince Edward marries Warwick's 
daughter. 
Clar. Belike, the elder ; Clarence will have 
the younger. 
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. 
You that love me and Warwick follow me. 

[Exit Clarence, and Somerset follows. 
Glo. Not I. 
My thoughts aim at a further matter ; I 
Stay not for love of Edward, but the crown. 

[Aside. 
K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both gone to 
Warwick ! 
Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen ; 
And haste is needful in this desperate case. 
Pembroke, and Stafford, you in ova- 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, 



a In place— there present; a common form of expression 
amongst our old writers. The same expression occurs in 
the sixth scene of this act : — 

' Yet in this one tiling let me blame your grace, 
For choosing me when Clarence is in place." 
192 



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 ! 
A". Edw. Now, brother Richard, will you stand 

by us? 
Glo. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand 

you. 
K. Edw. 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. 

SCENE 11.—^ Plain in Warwickshire. 

Enter Warwick and Oxford, with French and 
other 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 w r e all friends ? 
Clar. Fear not that, my lord. 
War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto 

Warwick ; 
And welcome, Somerset : I hold it cowardice, 
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart 
Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love ; 
Else might I think 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 slight 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, 
At unawares may beat down Edward's guard, 
And seize himself : I say not, slaughter him, 
For I intend but only to surprise him. 
You that will follow me to this attempt 
Applaud the name of Henry, with your leader. 

[They all cry Henry 
Why, then, let 's on our way in silent sort : 



Act IV.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scenes III., IV 



For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint 
George ! [Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— Edward's Camp near Warwick. 

Enter certain Watchmen, to guard the King's tent. 

1 Watch. Come on, my masters, each, man 

take his stand ; 
The king, by this, is set him down to sleep. 

2 Watch. 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 quite suppress'd. 

2 Watch. To-morrow then, belike, shall be 

the 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 Watch. 'Tis the lord Hastings, the king's 

chiefest friend. 
3 Watch. 0, is it so? But why commands 

the king 
That his 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, 
I like it better than a dangerous honour. 
If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 
; T is 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, Somer- 
set, and Forces. 

War. This is his tent ; and see, where stands 
his 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 ##— Warwick ! 

Warwick! and set upon the Guard ; who 
fly, crying— Arm! Arm! Warwick, and 
the rest, following them. 
The drum beating, and trumpets sounding, re- 
enter Warwick, and the rest, bringing the 
King out in a gown, sitting in a chair: Glos- 
ter and Hastings fly. 
Histories. — Vol. II. (J 



Som. What are they that fly there f 

War. Richard and Hastings: let them go, 

here 's the duke. 
K. Edw. The duke ! why, Warwick, when we 
parted last, 
Thou call'dst me king. 

War. Ay, but the case is altered : 

When you disgrae'd me in my ambassade, 
Then I degraded you from being king, 
xVnd 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 '11 follow you, and tell what answer 
Lewis, and the Lady Bona, send to him : 
Now, for a while, farewell, good duke of York. 
K. Edw. 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 ? 

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. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. — London. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter Queen Elizabeth and Rivers. 

Riv. Madam, what makes you in this suddeu 

change ? 

193 



=J 



Act I V.J 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scenes V., VI. 



Q. Eliz. Wby, brother Rivers, are you yet to 
learn 
What late misfortune is befall'n king Edward ? 
Riv. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against 

Warwick ? 
Q. Eliz. No, but the loss of his own royal 

person. 
Riv. Then is my sovereign slain ? 
Q. Eliz. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken 
prisoner ; 
Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard, 
Or by bis foe surpris'd at unawares : 
And, as 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. 
Aud 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- 
come ? 
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 hath once broken faith,) 
I '11 hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, 
To save at least the heir of Edward's "right ; 
There 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 Middlcham Castle in 
Yorkshire. 

Enter Gloster, Hastings, Sir William Stan- 
ley, and others. 

Glo. Now, my lord Hastings, and sir William 
Stanley, 
Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither, 
Into this chiefest thicket of the park. 
194 



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. 

Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman. 

Hunt. This way, my lord; for this way lies 

the game. 
K. Edw. Nay, this way, man; see where the 

huntsmen stand. 
Now, brother of Gloster, lord Hastings, and the 

rest, 
Stand you thus close to steal the bishop's deer? 
Glo. 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 forward- 
ness. 
Glo. But wherefore stay we ? 't is no time to 

talk. 
A'. 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. Edw. Bishop, farewell : shield thee from 

Warwick's frown ; 
And pray that I may repossess the crown. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE VI— J room in the Tower. 

Enter King Henry, Clarence, Warwick, 
Somerset, young Richmond, Oxford, Mon- 
tague, Lieutenant of the Tower, and Attend- 
ants. 

K. Hen. 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 joys, 
At our enlargement what are thy due fees ? 



Act IV.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCENL VI. 



Lieu. 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? 
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 sett'st me tree, 
And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee ; 
He was the author, thou the instrument. 
Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite, 
By living low where fortune cannot hurt me ; 
And 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 
virtuous ; 
And now may seem as wise as virtuous, 
By spying and avoiding fortune's malice, 
For few men rightly temper with the stars : 
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, hi thy nativity, 
Adjudg'd au olive-branch, and laurel crown, 
As likely to be blest in peace, and war ; 
And therefore I yield thee ray free consent. 
War. And I choose Clarence only for pro- 
tector. 
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. 
War. What answers Clarence to his 



sove- 



Clai 



reign's will ? 



That he consents, if Warwick yield 
consent ; 
For on thy fortune I repose myself. 

War. Why then, though loth, yet must 
content : 
We '11 yoke together, like a double shadow 
To Henry's body, and supply his place ; 

1 



I be 



I 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 pronoune'd a traitor, 
And all his lands and goods be confiscate. 

Clar. What else ? and that succession be de- 
termined. 
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 

Richmond. 
A'. Hen. Come hither, England's hope : If 
secret powers 

[Lays Ms hand on his head. 
Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, 
This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. 
His looks are full of peaceful majesty, 
His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown. 
His 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 ? 
Mess. That Edward is escaped from your 
brother, 
And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. 

War. Unsavoury news : But how made he 

escape ? 
Mess. He was convey'd by Richard duke of 
Gloster, 
And the lord Hastings, who attended him* 
In secret ambush on the forest side, 
And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him ; 
For hunting was his daily exercise. 

War. My brother was too careless of his 
charge. 
But let us hence, my sovereign, to provide 
A salve for any sore that may betide. 

{Exeunt King Henry, War., Clar,., 
Lieut., and Attendants. 

a Attended him— waited for him. 

195 



Act 1V.1 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCENF. VII. 



Som. My lord, 1 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 

Richmond ; 
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 'II send him hence to Brittany, 
Till storms be past of civil enmity. 

Oxf. Ay ; for if Edward repossess the crown, 
'T is like that Richmond with the rest shall down. 

Som. It shall be so; he shall to Brittany. 
Come, therefore, let 's about it speedily. 

\Exeunt. 

SCENE TO.— Before York. 

Enter King Edward, Gloster, Hastings, and 
Forces. 

K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings, 

and the rest, 
Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends, 
And says, that once more I shall interchange 
My waned state for Henry's regal crown. 
Well have we pass'd, and now repass' d the seas, 
And brought desired help from Burgundy : 
What then remains, we being thus arriv'd 
From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of 

York, 
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 Hege, I'll knock once more to 

summon them. 

Enter on the walls the Mayor of York, and his 
brethren. 

May. My lords, we were forewarned of your 
coming, 
And shut the gates for safety of ourselves ; 
Eor now we owe allegiance unto Henry. 

K. Edw. 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, 
196 



K. Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but 
my dukedom, 
As being well content with that alone. 

Glo. But when the fox hath once got in his 
nose, 
He'll soon find means to make the body follow. 

[Aside. 
Hast. Why, master mayor, why stand you in 
a doubt ? 
Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends. 
May. Ay, say you so ? the gates shall then be 
open'd. {Exeunt from above. 

Glo. A wise stout captain, and soon per- 
suaded ! a 
Hast. The good old man would fain that all 
were well, 
So 't were not 'long of him : but, being enter'd, 
I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade 
Both him and all his brothers unto reason. 

Re-enter the Mayor, rend 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. 

Brum. Enter Montgomery, and Forces, 
marching. 

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 ? 
Mont. 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. 
Mont. Then fare yea well, for I will hence 
again : 
I came to serve a king, and not a duke. 
Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. 

[A march begun. 



a 1'ue line stands in some modern editions,— 

"A wise stout captain, and persuaded soon." 

Ilanmcrmade the transposition, wliich Steevens says " re- 
quires no apology." It is scarcely necessary to point out 
that the ruggedness of the original line has a peculiar pro- 
priety when uttered with the solemn irony of Richard. 
Shakspere, as well as all real dramatic poets, vary their 
metre not only with the expression of passion but according 
to the character of the speaker. 



Act I V.J 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene VIH. 



K. Edw. Nay, stay, sir John, awhile; and 
we'll debate 
By what safe means the crown may be recover'd. 
Mont. What talk you of debating ? in few words, 
If you '11 not here proclaim yourself our king 
I '11 leave you to your fortune ; and be gone, 
To keep them back that come to succour you : 
Why shoidd we fight if you pretend no title ? 
Glo. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on 

nice points ? 
K. Edw. When we grow stronger, then we'll 
make our claim : 
Till then, 't is wisdom to conceal our meaning. 
East. Away with scrupulous wit ! now arms 

must ride. 
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 't is my 
right, 
And Henry but usurps the diadem. 
Mont. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like 
himself ; 
And now will I be Edward's champion. 
Bast. 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. 

Mont. And whosoe'er gainsays kiug Edward's 
right, 
By this I challenge him to single fight. 

[Throws down his gauntlet. 
All. Long live Edward the Fourth ! 
K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery ;— and 
thanks unto you all. 
If fortune serve me I'll requite this kindness. _ 
Now, for this night, let's harbour here in 

York : 
And, when the morning sun shall raise his car 
Above the border of this horizon, 
We '11 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 ! 
Yet, as we may, we '11 meet both thee and War- 
wick. 
Come on, brave soldiers ; doubt not of the day ; 
And that once gotten doubt not of large pay. 

[Exeunt. 

a Bruit— report. Thus, in the authorised translation of 
the Bible (Jeremiah x. 22)— 

" Behold the noise of the bruit is come." 



SCENE Till. — London. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter King Henry, Wae.wj.ck, Clarence, 
Montague, Exeter, and Oxford. 

War. What counsel, lords? Edward from 
Belgia, 
With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders, 
Hath past in safety through the narrow seas, 
And with his troops doth march amain to Lon- 
don; 
And many giddy people flock to him. 

Oxf. Let 's levy men, and beat him back again. 
Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out ; 
Which being suffer'd rivers cannot quench. 
War. 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 a in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, 
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee : 
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, 
Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find 
Men wellinclin'd to hear what thou command'st : 
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd, 
In Oxfordshire shall 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". Hen. Well-minded Clarence, be thou for- 
tunate. 
Mont. Comfort, my lord ;— and so I take my 

leave. 
Oxf. And thus [kissing Henry's hand'] I seal 

my truth, and bid adieu. 
K. Hen. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Mon- 
tague, 
And all at once, once more a happy farewell. 
War. Farewell, sweet lords; let's meet at 
Coventry. 

[Exeunt War., Clar., Oxf., and Mont. 
K. Hen. Here at the palace will I rest a while. 
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship ? 
Methinks the power that Edward hath in field 
Should not be able to encounter mine. 

Eve. The doubt is that he will seduce the rest. 
K. Hen. That's not my fear, my meed hath 
got me fame. 

a Stir up.— Steevens omits up as unmetrfca/. 

197 



Act IV.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[SCF.NF VIII. 



I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, 
Nor posted off then suits with slow delays ; 
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, 
My mildness hath allay 'd then 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. 

[Shout wit/iin. A Lancaster ! a Lancaster ! 
Exe. Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are 

these ? 
Enter King Edward, Gi.oster, 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. 
Hence with him to the Tower ; let him not 
speak. 

[Exeunt some with King Henry. 
And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our 

course, 
Where peremptory Warwick now remains : 
The sim slimes hot, and if we use delay 
Cold-biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay. 

Glo. Away betimes, before his forces join, 
And take the great-grown traitor unawares : 
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. 

[Exeunt 







*fc «5*cW 



[Scene V.] 




[George Duke of Clarence.] 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT IV. 



HISTOEICAL ILLUSTKATIOK 



The defection of Clarence from the cause of Lis 
brother has been worked up by the poet into a 
sudden resolve ; —it was probably the result of 
much contrivance slowly operating upon a feeble 
mind, coupled with his own passion for the 
daughter of Warwick. What is rapid and distinct 
in the play is slow and obscure in the Chronicles. 
Warwick and Clarence in the play are quickly 
transformed into enemies to the brother and the 
ally ; in the Chronicles we have to trace them 
through long courses of intrigue and deception. 
When Warwick possessed himself of the person 
of Edward, it is difficult, from the contemporary 
historians, to understand his real intentions. Hall, 
however, who compiles with a picturesque eye, tells 
the story of his capture and release in a manner 
which was not unfitted to be expanded into 
dramatic effect : — "All the king's doings were by 
espials declared to the Earl of Warwick, which, 
like a wise and politic captain, intending not to 
lose so great an advantage to him given, but 



trusting to bring all his purposes to a final end 
and determination by only obtaining this enter- 
prise, in the dead of the night, with an elect 
company of men of war, as secretly as was 
possible, set on the king's field, killing them that 
kept the watch, and or the king were ware (for he 
thought of nothing less than of that chance that 
happened), at a place called Woluey, four miles 
from Warwick, he was taken prisoner, and brought 
to the castle of Warwick. And to the intent that 
the king's friends might not know where he was, 
nor what was chanced of him, he caused him by 
secret journeys in the night to be conveyed to 
Middleham Castle in Yorkshire, and there to be 
kept under the custody of the Archbishop of 
York his brother, and other his trusty friends, 
which entertained the king like his estate, and 
served him like a prince. But there was no place 
so far off but that the taking of the king was 
shortly known there with the wind, which news 
made many men to fear and greatly to dread, and 

* 199 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT IV. 



many to wonder and lament the chance. King 
Edward, being thus in captivity, spake ever fair 
to the archbishop and to the other keepers ; but, 
whether he corrupted them with money or fair 
promises, he had liberty divers days to go on 
hunting ; and one day on a plain there met with 
him Sir William Stanley, Sir Thomas of Borogh, 
and divers other of his friends, with such a great 
band of men, that neither his keepers would nor 
once durst move him to return to prison again." 

In the beginning of 1471 Edward was a fugitive, 
almost without a home. The great Earl of War- 
wick had placed Henry again in the nominal seat 
of authority ; a counter-revolution had beeu 
effected. By one of those bold movements which 
set aside all calculation of consequences Edward 
leaped once more into the throne of England. 
In an age when perjury and murder were equally 
resorted to, Edward, on landing, did not hesitate 
to disguise his real objects, and to maintain that 
he was in arms only to enforce his claims as Duke 
of York. The scene before the walls of York is 
quite borne out by the contemporary historians ; 
and especially in that most curious 'Historie of 
the arrival of Edward IV. in England,' published 
by the Camden Society. Shakspere evidently 
went to Hall as his authority : — "King Edward, 
without any words spoken to him, came peaceably 
near to York, of whose coming when the citizens 
were certified, without delay they armed them- 
selves and came to defend the gates, sending to him 
two of the chiet'est aldermen of the city, which 
earnestly admonished him on their behalf to come 
not one foot nearer, nor temerariously to enter 
into so great a jeopardy, considering that they 
were fully determined and bent to compel him to 
retract with dint of sword. King Edward, mark- 
ing well their message, was not a little troubled 
and unquieted in his mind, and driven to seek the 
farthest point of his wit ; for he had both two 
mischievous and perilous chances even before his 
eyes, which were hard to be evaded or repelled : — 
one was, if he should go back again he feared lest 
the rural and common people, for covetousness of 
prey and spoil, would fall on him, as one that fled 
away for fear and dread ; the other was, if he 
should proceed any farther in his journey, then 
might the citizens of York issue out with all their 
power, and suddenly circumvent him and take 
him. Wherefore he determined to set forward, 



neither with army nor with weapon, but with 
lowly words and gentle entreatings, requiring most 
heartily the messengers that were sent to declare 
to the citizens that he came neither to demand 
the realm of England nor the superiority of the 
same, but only the duchy of York, his old inhe- 
ritance ; the which duchy if he might by their 
means readopt and recover, he would never pass 
out of his memory so great a benefit and so 
friendly a gratuity to him exhibited. And so, 
with fair words and flattering speech, he dismissed 
the messengers ; and with good speed he and his 
followed so quickly after, that they were almost 
at the gates as soon as the ambassadors. The 
citizens, hearing his good answer, that he meant 
nor intended nothing prejudicial to King Henry 
nor his royal authority, were much mitigated and 
cooled, and began to commune with him from 
their walls, willing him to convey himself into 
some other place without delay, which if he did, 
they assured him that he should have neither 
hurt nor damage. But he, gently speaking to all 
men, and especially to such as were aldermen, 
whom he called worshipful, and by their proper 
names them saluted, after many fair promises to 
them made, exhorted and desired them that, by 
their favourable friendship and friendly permission, 
he might enter into his own town, of the which 
he had both his name and title. All the whole 
day was consumed iu doubtful communication 
and earnest interlocution. The citizens, partly 
won by his fair words, and partly by hope of 
his large promises, fell to this pact and convention, 
that if King Edward would swear to entertain his 
citizens of York after a gentle sort and fashion, 
and hereafter to be obedient and faithful to all 
King Henry's commandments and precepts, that 
then they would receive him into their city, and 
aid and comfort him with money. King Edward 
(whom the citizens called only Duke of York), 
being glad of this fortunate chance, in the next 
morning, at the gate where he should enter, a 
priest being ready to say mass, in the mass time, 
receiving the body of our blessed Saviour, solemnly 
swearing to keep and observe the two articles 
above mentioned and agreed upon, when it was far 
unlike that he either intended or purposed to 
observe any of them, which afterwards was to all 
men manifest." 



203 



, <•■ ■• 




[Scene I. Coventry.} 



ACT Y. 



SCENE I.— Coventry. 



Enter, upon the walls, Warwick, the ]\Iayor of 
Coventry, two Messengers, and others. 
War. Where is the post that came from 
valiant Oxford ? 
How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? 

1 Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching 

hitherward. 
War. How far off is our bi other Montague? 
Where is the post that came from Montague ? 

2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant 

troop. 

Enter Sir John Somerville. 

War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving 
son? 
And, by thy 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. 

{Brum heard. 
War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his 

drum. 
Sow. It is not his, my lord; here Southam 
lies; 
The drum your honour hears marcheth from 
Warwick. 
War. Who should that be ? belike, unlook'd- 

for friends. 
Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly 
know. 

Drums. Enter King Edward, Gloster, and 
Forces, marching. 

K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound 

a parle. 
Glo. See, how the surly Warwick mans the 

wall. 
War. O, unbid spite ! is sportful Edward come? 

201 



Act V.T 



THIED PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene L 



Where slept our scouts, or bow are they seduc'd, 
That we could hear no news of his repair ? 
K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the 
city 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 forces 
hence, — 
Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee 

down, — 
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent, — 
And thou shalt still remain the duke of York ? 
Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said 
the king; 
Or did he make the jest against bis will ? 
War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift ? 
Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give ; 
I '11 do thee service for so good a gift. 

War. 'T was I that gave the kingdom to thy 

brother. 
K. Edw. Why then 't is mine, if but by War- 
wick's gift. 
War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight : 
And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again ; 
And Henry is ray king, Warwick his subject. 
K. Echo. But Warwick's king is Edward's 
prisoner : 
And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this, 
What is the body when the head is off ? 

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more fore- 
cast, 
But whiles he thought to steal the single ten, 
The king was slyly finger'd from the deck ! a 
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace, 
And, ten to one, you '11 meet him in the Tower. 
K. Edw. ' T is even sc ; yet you are Warwick 

still. 
Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel 
down, kneel down : 
Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools. 
War. I had rather chop this hand off at a 
blow, 
And with the other fling it at thy face. 
Thau 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 thy head is warm, and new cut off, 



a. Deck — a pack of cards was formerly called a dec!;. 
There is a similar example in Selimus, 1594 : — 

" Well, if I chance but once to get the deck, 
To deal about and shuffle as I would." 

202 



Write hi the dust this sentence with thy blood, 
Wind- changing Warwick now can change no 



more. 



Enter Oxford, with drum and colours. 

War. cheerful colours ! see, where Oxford 

comes ! 
O.if. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster ! 

[Oxford and his Forces enter the City. 
Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too. 
K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our 
backs. 
Stand wc 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, with drum and colours. 

Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster ! 
\_He and his Forces enter the City. 
Glo. 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 vic- 
tory : 
My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest. 

Enter Someeset, with drum and colours. 

Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster ! 

[lie and his Forces enter the City. 
Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of So- 
merset, 
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 : 
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt if Warwick 
call. 
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this 
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 lime 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 



Act V.l 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene II. 



Against his brother and his lawful king ? 

Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath : 

To keep that oath were more impiety 

Than Jephtha's, when he sacrificed 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, 1 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 bro- 
ther-like. 

War. passings 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 ; Saint George, and victory. 

[March. Exeunt. 

SCENE 11.—^ 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 ; 
For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all. 
Now, Montague, sit fast ; I seek for thee, 
That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. 

[Exit. 
War. Ah, who is nigh ? 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 ; 

» Passing — surpassing. 



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 liv'd king but I could dig his grave ? 
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his 

brow ? 
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. 

Enter Oxford and Somerset. 

Som. 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, couldst thou 

fly! 
■ War. Why, then I would not fly.— Ah, Mon- 
tague, 
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, 
And with thy lips keep in my soid awhile ! 
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. 
Som. 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, 
That might not be distinguish'd ; but, at last, 
I well might hear deliver' d with a groan, 
O, farewell, Warwick ! 

War. Sweet rest to his soul ! — 

Fly, lords, and save yourselves ; for Warwick bids 

You all farewell, to meet in heaven. a [Dies. 

Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great 

power. 
[Exeunt, bearing of Warwick's body. 

a In this fine the word again has been interpolated is 
early modern editions--" to meet again in heaven/' 

203 



Act V.] 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scenes III., IV. 



SCENE III.— Another Part of the Field. 

Flourish. Enter King Edward, in triumph'; 
with Clarence, Gloster, and the rest. 

K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an up- 
ward course, 
And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. 
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day, 
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud, 
That will encounter with our glorious sun, 
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. 
Car. A little gale will soon disperse that 
cloud, 
And blow it to the source from whence it came : 
Tiiy 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. 
A". Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving 
friends, 
That they do hold their course toward Tewkes- 
bury ; 
We, having now the best at Barnet field, 
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way : . 
And, as we march, our strength will be aug 

mented 
In every county as we go along. 
Strike up the drum ; cry, Courage ! and away. 

\Exeunt 

SCENE IN.— Plains near Tewkesbury. 

March. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Ed- 
ward, Somerset, Oxford, and Soldiers. 

Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and 
wail their loss, 
But checrly seek how to redress their harms. 
What, though the mast be now blown over- 
board, 
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 eyes add water to the sea, 
And give more strength to that which hath too 

much ; 
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, 
Which industry and courage might have sav'd ? 
Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this ! 

201 



Say, Warwick was our anchor : what of thai ? 
And Montague our top-mast ; what of him ? 
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles ; what ol 

these ? 
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? 
And Somerset another goodly mast ? 
The friends of France our shrouds and tack- 
lings ? 
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 

wrack. 
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, 't is but awhile : 
Tread on the sand ; why then you quickly sink : 
Bestride 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, 
If 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 

rocks. 
Why, courage, then ! what cannot be avoided 
'T were childish weakness to lament or fear. 
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. 

O.rf. Women and children of so high a cou- 
rage ! 
And warriors faint ! why, 't were perpetual shame. 
O, brave young prince ! thy famous grandfather 
Doth live again in thee : Long may'st thou live, 
To bear his image, and renew his glories ! 
Sow. 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. 

Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset; — sweet 
Oxford, thanks. 



Ajt T. 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene V. 



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. 

Oxf. I thought no less : it is his policy 
To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. 
Som. But he 's deceiv'd, we are in readiness. 
Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your 

forwardness. 
Oxf. Here pitch our battle ; hence we will 
not budge. 

March. Eater, at a distance, King Edward, 
Clarence, Glostek, and Forces. 

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the 
thorny wood, 
Which, by the heavens' assistance, and your 

strength, 
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. 
I need not add more fuel to your fire, 
Eor 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 ; for every word I speak, 
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. 
Therefore, no more but this : Henry, your sove- 
reign, 
Is prisoner to the foe ; his state usurp'd, 
His realm a slaughterhouse, 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, 
Be 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, Glos- 
ter, and Forces : with Queen Margaret, 
Oxford, and Somerset, prisoners. 

K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous 
broils. 
Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle straight : 
For Somerset, off with his guilty head. 
Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. 
Oxf. Eor my part, I '11 not trouble thee with 

words. 
Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my 
fortune. 
[Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded. 



Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous 
world, 
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. 

K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that who 
finds Edward 
Shall have a high reward, and he his life ? 

Glo. It is : and lo, where youthful Edward 
comes. 

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 ? 
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make 
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, 
And all 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, 
Which, traitor, thou would'st have me answer to. 
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so re- 

solv'd ! 
Glo. That you might still have worn the pet- 
ticoat, 
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lan- 
caster. 
Prince. Let iEsop fable in a winter's night ; 
His currish riddles sort not with this place. 
Glo. By heaven, brat, I '11 plague you for that 

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. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. 
Prince. I know my duty, you are all unduti- 
ful: 
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. [Stabs him. 

Glo. Sprawl'st thou ? take that, to end thy 
agony. [Glo. stabs him. 

Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury. 

[Clar. slabs him. 
Q. Mar. O, kill me too I 
Glo. Marry, and shall. [Offers to hill her. 

205 ' 



Act V.] 



THIRD PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[ScLNt VI. 



A". Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have 

done too much. 
Glo. Why should she live to fill the world 

with words ? 
K. Edw. What ! doth she swoon ? use means 

for her recovery. 
Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my 
brother ; 
I '11 hence to London on a serious matter : 
Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. 
Clar. What? what? 

Glo. The Tower ! the Tower ! [Exit. 

Q. Mar. 0, Ned, sweet Ned ! speak to thy 
mother, boy ! 
Canst thounot speak?— traitors! murtherers! — 
They that stabb'd Caesar 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 ; 
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. 
What 's worse than murtherer, that I may name 

it? 
No, no ; my heart will burst, an if I speak : 
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst. 
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals ! 
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd ! 
You have no children, butchers ! if you had, 
The thought of them would have stirr'd up re- 
morse : 
But, if you ever chance to have a child, 
Look in his youth to have him so cut off, 
As, dcathsmen! you have rid this sweet young 



prince 



K. Edw. Away with her ; go, bear her hence 

perforce. 
Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch 
me here ; 
Here sheathe thy sword, I'll pardon thee my 

death : 
What ! wilt thou not ? — then, Clarence, do it 
thou. 
Clar. 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. Av, but thou usest to forswear thy- 
self': 
'T was sin before, but now 't is charity. 
What ! wilt thou not ? where is that devil's 

butcher, 
llard-favour'd Richard ? Richard, where art 

thou ? 
Thou art not here : Murther is thy alms-deed ; 

206 



Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. 
A'. Edw. Away, I say ; I charge ye, bear her 

hence. 
Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to 
this prince ! [Exit, led out forcibl y . 
K. Edw. Where 's Bichard gone ? 
Clar. To London, all in post ; and, as I guess, 
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 this, I 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 
his hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter 
Glostee. 
Glo. Good day, my lord ! What, at your 

book so hard ? 
A". Hen. Ay, my good lord : My lord, I should 
say, rather : 
T is 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 : we must 
confer. [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. 
A". Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a 
bush, 
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush : 
And 1, 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. 
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, Deedalus ; 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. 



Act V.] 



THIRD PAET OF KING HENRY VI. 



[Scene VII. 



Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words ! 
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, 
Thau 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. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art ; 
If murthering innocents be executing, 
Why, then thou art an executioner. 

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. 
K. Hen. Had'st thou been kill'd when first 

thou did'st presume, 
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. 
And thus I prophesy, — fhat many a thousand, 
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear ; 
And many an old man's sigh, and many a 

widow's, 
And many au orphan's water standing eye, — 
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands', 
And orphans for their parents' timeless death, a — 
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 raveu rook'd her on the chimney's top, 
Aud chattering pics 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, b 
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. 
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast 

born, 
To signify thou com'st to bite the world : 
And, if the rest be true which I have heard, 
Thou cam'st — 

Glo. I '11 hear no more : — Die, prophet, in thy 

speech : [Stabs him. 

For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. 
K. Hen. Ay, aud for much more slaughter 

after this. 
God! forgive my sins, and pardon thee ! [Dies. 
Glo. What, will the aspiring blood of Lan- 
caster 
Sink in the ground? I thought it woidd 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 downfal of our house ! 
If any spark of life be yet remaining, 
Down, clown to hell ; and say I sent thee thither. 

[Stabs him again. 

a We point this passage in the belief that " timeless 
death" is connected not only with parents', but with 
husbands' and so?is'. 

b This line stands thus in the folio. Malone printed — 
" lo Wit, an indigest deformed lump." 



I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. 

Indeed, 't is 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, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!' 

And so I was ; which plainly signified 

That I should snarl, and bite, and play the clog. 

Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, 

Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. 

I have no brother, I am like no brother : 

And this 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 clay for thee : 
For I will buz abroad such prophecies, 
That Edward shall be fearful of his life ; 
And then, to purge his fear, I '11 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 be 
I '11 throw thy body in another room, 
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. 

[Krit- 

SCENE VIL— The same. A Room in the Palace. 

King Edward is discovered sitting on his throne ; 
Queen Elizabeth, with the infant Prince, 
Clarence, Gloster, Hastings, and others, 
near him. 

K. Ed'.o. Once more we sit in England's royal 

throne, 
Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies. 
What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn, 
Have we mow'd clown, in tops of all their pride ! 
Three dukes of Somerset, threefold rcnown'd 
For hardy and undoubted champions : 
Two Cliffords, as the father and the son ; 
And two Northumber lands : two braver men 
Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's 

sound : 
With them, the two brave bears, Warwick aud 

Montague, 
That in their chains fetter'd the kingly Hon, 
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 ; 

207 



ACT V.] 



THIED PART OF KING HENEY VI. 



[Scene VII. 



Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat, 
That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace ; 
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. 
Glo. I '11 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 that shall execute. 

[Aside. 
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 
T seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. 

Queen. Thanks, noble Clarence : worthy bro- 
ther, thanks." 



a In the ' True Tragedy 'tliis line is assigned to l\ie Queen; 
n the folio the character speaking is indicated by Clu., an 
evident misprint. 



Glo. And, that I love the tree from whence 
thou sprang'st, 
Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit : 
To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master ; 
And cried — all hail! when as he meant — all 
harm. [Aside. 

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 
Margaret ? 
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. Edw. 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 ? 
Sound, drums and trumpets ! — farewell, sour 

annoy ! 
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. 

[Exeunt. 











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[Tewkesbun.J 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT V. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



Of the battle of Barnet the following is Hall's 
description : — 

" When the day began to spring the trumpets 
blew courageously and the battle fiercely began. 
Archers first shot, and bill-men them followed. 
King Edward, having the greater number of men, 
valiantly set on his enemies. The earl on the other 
Bide, remembering his ancient fame and renown, 
manfully withstood him. This battle on both sides 
was sore fought and many slain, in whose rooms 
succeeded ever fresh and fresh men. In the mean 
season, while all men were together by the ears, 
ever looking to which way fortune would incline, 
the Earl of Warwick, after long fight, wisely did 
perceive his men to be over pressed with the multi- 
tude of his adversaries ; wherefore he caused new 
men to relieve them that fought in the forward, by 
reason of which succours King Edward's part gave 
a little back (which was the cause that some 
lookers-on, and no fighters, galloped to London, 
saying that the earl had won the field), which thing 
when Edward did perceive, he with all diligence 
sent fresh men to their succours. 

" If the battle were fierce and deadly before, now 
it was crueller, more bloody, more fervent and 
fiery, and yet they had fought from morning almost 

Histories. — Vol. II. P 



to noon without any part getting advantage of 
other. King Edward, being weary of so long a con- 
flict and willing to see an end, caused a great crew 
of fresh men (which he had for this only policy 
kept all day in store) to set on their enemies, in 
manner being weary and fatigate : but although the 
earl saw these new succours of fresh and new men 
to enter the battle, being nothing afraid, but hoping 
of the victory (knowing perfectly that there was 
all King Edward's power), comforted his men, 
being weary, sharply quickening and earnestly de- 
siring them with hardy stomachs to bear out this 
last and final brunt of the battle, aud that the field 
was even at an end. But when his soldiers, being 
sore wounded, wearied with so long a conflict, did 
give little regard to his words, he, being a man of a 
mind invincible, rushed into the midst of his ene- 
mies, where as he (aventured so far from his own 
company to kill and slay his adversaries that he 
could not be rescued) was in the middle of his ene- 
mies stricken down and slain. The Marquis Mon- 
tacute, thinking to succour his brother, which he 
saw was in great jeopardy, and yet in hope to obtain 
the victory, was likewise overthrown and slain. 
After the earl was dead his party fled, and mauy 
were taken, but not one man of name nor of nobility." 

209 



ILLUSTRATION OF ACT V. 




[Battle of Tewkesbury. From an Ancient Illumination.] 



The most curious accounts, both of the battles of 
Barnet and Tewkesbury, and indeed of all this rapid 
counter-revolution, which has scarcely a parallel in 
our English annals, are to be found hi a contem- 
porary narrative published by the Camden Society. 
Neither that narrative, nor the Ghent MS., winch 
is an abridgment of it, were probably accessible to 
Shakspere. We must therefore still be content to 
trace him in Hall and Holinshed. The following 
graphic account of the battle of Tewkesbury is 
from Hall : — 

" After the field ended King Edward made a 
proclamation that whosoever could bring Prince 
Edward to him, alive or dead, should have au annu- 
ity of an c I. during his life, and the prince's life 
to be saved. Sir Richard Croftes, a wise and a 
valiant knight, nothing mistrusting the king's for- 
mer promise, brought forth his prisoner Prince 
Edward, being agoodl y feminine and a well-featured 
young gentleman, whom when King Edward had 
well advised, he demanded of him how he durst so 
presumptuously enter into his realm with banner 
displayed. The prince, being bold of stomach and 
of a good courage, answered, saying, To l-ccovcr my 
210 



father's kingdom and inheritage from his father and 
grandfather to him, and from him, after him, to me 
lineally divoluted. At which words, King Edward 
said nothing, but with his hand thrust him from 
him (or, as some say, stroke him with his gauntlet), 
whom incontinent they that strode about, which 
were George Duke of Clarence, Richard Duke of 
Gloucester, Thomas Marquis Dorset, and William 
Lord Hastings, suddenly murdered and piteously 
mangled. The bitterness of which murder some 
of the actors after in their latter days tasted and 
essayed by the very rod of justice and punishment 
of God. His body was homely interred with tho 
other simple corpses in the church of the monastery 
of Black Monks in Tewkesbury. This was the last 
civil battle that was fought in Kins Edward's days, 
wbich was gotten the iii day of May, in the x year 
of his reign, and in the year of our Lord Mcccclxxi 
then being Saturday. And on the Monday next 
ensuing was Edmund Duke of Somerset, John 
Longstrother, Prior of Saint John's, Sir Garveys 
Clifton, Sir Thomas Tresham, and xii other kuight3 
and gentlemen beheaded in the market-place at 
Tewkesbury." 



THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI. 



It is unnecessary for us here to enter upon the 
disputed question as to whether Richard Duke of 
Gloster were the actual murderer of Henry VI. 
The following is Holinsbed's account of this 
event : — 

" Poor Kins Henry VI., a little before deprived 
(as we have heard) of his realm and imperial crown, 
was now in the Tower spoiled of his life by Richard 
Duke of Gloster (as the constant fame ran), who, 
to the intent that his brother King Edwai'd might 
reign in more surety, murdered the said King 
Henry with a dagger, although some writers of that 
time, favouring altogether the house of York, have 
recorded that, after he understood what losses had 
chanced to his friends, aud how not only his son 



but also all other his chief partakers were dead and 
despatched, he took it so to heart, that of pure dis- 
pleasure, indignation, and melancholy, he died the 
three-and-twentieth of May. The dead corpse, on 
the Ascension even (the 29th), was conveyed with 
bills and glaives pompously (if you will call that 
a funeral pomp) from the Tower to the church of 
St. Paul, and there laid on a bier, where it rested 
the space of one whole day, and, on the next day 
after, it was conveyed, without priest or clerk, torch 
or taper, singing or saying, unto the monastery of 
Chertsey, distant from London fifteen miles, and 
thei*e was it first buried ; but after, it was removed 
to Windsor, and there in a new vault newly inhu- 
mulate." 




. 




[Tomb of Henry VI. formerly at Windsor.] 



Pi2 



211 



THE 

SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION 

OP THE TWO FAMOUS HOUSES OF 

YORK AND LANCASTER, 

CONTAINING THE 

TRAGEDY OF RICHARD DUKE OF YORK, AND THE GOOD KING 

HENRY THE SIXTH. 



(ACT I.) 



(SCENE I.) 

Enter Richard Duke of York, the Earl of War- 
wick, the Duke of Norfolk, Marquis Mon- 
tague, Edward Earl of March, Crook-back 
Richard, and the young Earl of Rutland, with 
drum and Soldiers, with white roses in their hats. 

War. I wonder bow the king escap'd our bauds. 
York. Whilst we pursued tbe horsemen of the 
north, 
He slily stole away, and left his men : 
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, 
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,^ 
Charg'd our main battle's front, and there with a 

him 
Lord Stafford and lord Clifford, all abreast, 
Brake in, and were by the hands of common soldiers 
slain. 
Edw. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buckingham, 
Is either slain or wounded dangerously : 
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow : 
Father, that this is true, behold his blood. 

Mont. And, brother, here's the earl of Wiltshire's 
blood, 
Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd. 

Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I 

did. b 
York. What, 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 shape 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 that fearful king, 
And that the regal chair : possess it, York, 
For this is thine, and not king Henry's heirs'. 

York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will : 
For hither are we broken in by force. 

Norf. We '11 all assist thee, and he that flies shall 
die. 

There with. In the unique edition of 1595, therewith. 
b It is evident that Richard here either points to the 
body of Somerset or throws down his head. 



York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my 
lords ; 
And, soldiers, stay you here, and lodge this night. 

War. And when the king comes, offer kiin no 
violence, 
Unless he seek to put us out by force. 

Rich. Arm'd as we be, 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 be depos'd, whose cowardice 
Hath made us by-words to our enemies. 

York. Then leave me not, my lords: for now I mean 
To take possession of my right. 

War. Neither theking,norhimthatloveshim best, 
The proudest bird that holds up Lancaster, 
Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. 
I'll plant Plantagenet, and root him out who dares ! 
Resolve thee, Richard ; claim the English crown. 

Enter King Henry the Sixth, with the Duke of 

Exeter, the Earl of Northumberland, the 

Earl of Westmoreland^^ Clifford, the Earl 

of Cumberland, with red roses in their hats. 
King. Look, lordings, where the sturdy rebel sits, 
Even in the chair of state ! belike, he 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, Clifford : and you both have vow'd re- 
venge, 
On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends. 

North. And 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 pull 
him down. 
My heart for anger breaks, I cannot speak. 

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 tbe family of York. 

North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin ; be it so. 

King. 0, know you not the city favours them, 
And they have troops of soldiers at their beck ? 



Act 1.] 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[SCEKE 1 



Exet. But when the duke is slain they '11 quickly 

Ring. Far be it from the thoughts of Henry's heart 
To make a shambles of the parliament house : 
Cousin of Exeter, words, frowns, and threats, 
Shall be the wars that Henry means to use. 
Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne ; 
I am thy sovereign. 

York. Thou art deceiv'd, I am thine. 

Exet. For shame come down; he made thee 

duke of York. 
York. 'T was mine inheritance, as the kingdom is. 
Exet. 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, and that is Richard, duke 

of York. 
King. And shall I stand while thou sittest in 

my throne ? 
York. Content thyself; it must and shall be so. 
War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. 
West. Why, he is both king and duke of Lan- 
caster ; 
And that the earl of Westmoreland shall maintain. 
War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget 
That we are those that chas'd you from the field, 
And slew your father, and with colours spread 
March'd through the city to the palace gates. 

North. No, Warwick, I remember it to my grief : 
And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. 

West. Plautagenet, of thee, and of thy sons, 
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, in revenge thereof, 
I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger 
As shall revenge his death before I stir. 

War. Poor Clifford, how I scorn thy worthless 

threats ! 
York. Will ye we show our title to the crown, 
Or else our swords shall plead it in the field ? 

King. What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown ? 
Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York ; 
Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, earl of March : 
I am the son of Henry the fifth, who tam'd the 

French, 
And made the dauphin stoop, and seiz'd upon 
Their towns and provinces. 

War. Talk not of France, since thou hast lost it all. 
King. The lord protector lost it, aud not I ; 
When I was crown'd I was but nine months old. 
Rich. You 're old enough now, and yet methinks 
you lose : 
Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. 
Edw. Do so, sweet father; set it on your head. 
Mont. Good brother, as thou lov'st and honour'st 
arms, 
Let 'a fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. 
Rich. Sound drums aud trumpets, and the king 

will fly. 
York. Peace, sons. 
North. Peace thou, and give king Henry leave 

to speak. 
King. Ah, Plautagenet, why seekest thou to de- 
pose me ? 
Are we not both Plautagenets by birth, 
And from two brothers lineally descent ? 
Suppose by right and equity thou be king; 
Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly scat, 
Wherein my father and my grandsire sate ! 
214 



No, first shall war unpeople this my realm; 
Ay, and our colours, often borne in France, 
And now in England (to our heart's great sorrow), 
Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords ! 
My title 's better far than his. 

War. Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. 
King. Why, Henry the fourth by conquest got 

the crown. 
York. 'T was by rebellion 'gainst his sovereign. 
King. I know not what to say; my title's weak. 
Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? 
JI T fl?\ What then? 

King. Then am I lawful king. For Richard 
The second, in the view of many lords, 
Resign'd the crown to Henry the fourth ; 
Whose heir my father was, and I am his. 

York. I tell thee, he rose against him, being his 
sovereign, 
And made him to resign the crown perforce. 

War. Suppose, my lord, he did it unconstrain'd, 
Think you that were prejudicial to the crown? 

Exet. No ; for he could not so resign the crown 
But that the next heir must succeed and reign. 
King. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter? 
Exet. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. 
King. All will revolt from me, and turn to him. 
North. Plautagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, 
Think not king Henry shall be thus depos'd. 
War. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of thee. 
North. Tush, Warwick, thou art deceiv'd : 
'Tis not thy southern powers of Essex, Suffolk, 

Norfolk, 
And of Kent, that 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. 
May that ground gape and swallow me alive, 
Where I do kneel to him that slew my father. 
King. 0, Clifford, how thy words revive my soul ! 
York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy 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. 

Enter Soldiers. 

And over the chair of state, where now he sits, 
Write up his title with thy usurping blood. 

King. O, Warwick, hear me speak : 
Let me but reign in quiet while I live. 

York. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs, 
And thou shall reign in quiet whilst thou liv'st. 

King. Convey the soldiers hence, and then I will. 

War. Captain, conduct them into Tuthill fields. 

Clif. What wrong is this unto the prince your son ! 

War. What good is this for England and himself ! 

North. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry ! 

Clif. How hast thou wronged both thyself and us ! 

West. I cannot stay to hear these articles. [Exit. 

Clif Nor I. Come, cousin, let's go tell the queen. 

North. Be thou a prey unto the house of York, 
And die in bands for this unkingly deed. a [Exit. 

Clif. In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome, 
Or live in peace, abandon'd and despis'd. [Exit. 

Exet. They seek revenge, and therefore will not 
yield, my lord. 

King. Ah, Exeter ! 

War. Why should you sigh, my lord ? 

a Unkingly, in the quarto of 1595; afterwards changed 
to unkindly. 



Act I.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Jceni: II. 



Ring. 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, conditionally, 
That here thou take thine oath, 
To cease these civil broils, and whilst I live 
To honour me as thy king and sovereign. 

York. That oath I willingly take,andwill perform. 
War. Long live king Henry ! Plantagenet, em- 
brace him. 
King. And long live thou, r.nd all thy forward 

sons. 
York. Now York and Lancaster are reconcil'd. 
Exet. Accurs'd be he that seeks to make them foe3. 

[Sound trumpets. 
York. My lord, I'll take my leave, for I'll to 
Wakefield, 
To my castle. [Exeunt York and his Sons. 

War. And I'll keep London, with my soldiers. 

[Exit. 
Norf. And I'll to Norfolk, with my followers. 

[Exit. 
Mont. And I to the sea, from whence I came. 

[Exit. 
Enter the Queen and the Prince. 

Exet. My lord, here comes the queen : I'll steal 
away. 

King. And so will I. 

Queen. Nay, stay, or else I'll follow thee. 

King. Be patient, gentle queen, and then I'll stay. 

Queen. What patience can there be ? ah, timorous 
man, 
Thou hast undone thyself, thy sod, and me, 
And given our rights unto the house of York. 
Art thou a king, and wilt be fore'd to yield ? 
Had I been there, the soldiers should have toss'd 
Me on their lances' points before I would have 
Granted to their wills. The duke is made 
Protector of the land : stern Faulcoubridge 
Commands the narrow seas : and think' st thou then 
To sleep secure? I here divorce me, Henry, 
From thy bed, until that act of parliament 
Be recall'd, wherein thou yieldest to the house of 

York. 
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours 
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread ; 
And spread they shall unto thy deep disgrace. 
Come, son, let's away, and leave him here alone. 

King. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. 

Queen. Thou hnst spoke too much already, 
therefore be still. 

King. Gentle son Edward/wilt thou stay with me? 

Queen. Ay, to be murther'd by his enemies. 

[Exit. 

Prince. When I returnwithvictoryfrom the field, 
I'll see your grace : till then I'll follow her. [Exit. 

King. Poor queen, her love to me and to the 
prince her son 
Makes her in fury thus forget herself. 
Revenged may she be on that accursed duke. 
Come, cousin of Exeter, stay thou here, 
For Clifford and those northern lords be gone, 
I fear towards Wakefield, to disturb the duke. 

(SCENE II.) 

Enter Edward, and Richard, and Montague. 

Edw. Brother, and cousin Montague, give me 

leave to speak. 
Rich. Nay, I can better play the orator. 



Mont. But I have reasons strong and forcible. 
Enter the Duke of York. 

York. How now, sons ! what, at a jar amongst 

yourselves ? 
Rich. No, father, but a sweet contention, about 
that which concerns yourself and us : the crown 
of England, father.a 

York. The crown, boy ! Why, Henry's yet alive; 
And I have sworn that he shall reign in quiet 
Till his death. 

Edw. But I would break an hundred oaths to 

reign one year. 
Rich. An if it please your grace to give me leave, 
I'll show your grace the way to save your oath, 
And dispossess king Henry from the crown. 
York. I prithee, Dick, let me hear thy device. 
Rich. Then thus, my lord. An oath is of no 
moment, 
Being not sworn before a lawful magistrate. 
Henry is none, but doth usurp your right, 
And yet your grace stands bound to him by oath. 
Then, noble father, resolve yourself, 
And once more claim the crown. 

York. Ay, say'st thou so, boy ? Why, then it 
shall be so. 
I am resolv'd to win the crown, or die. 
Edward, thou shalt to Edmund Brooke, lord Cob- 
ham, 
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise. 
Thou, cousin Montague, shalt to Norfolk straight, 
And bid the duke to muster up his soldiers, 
And come to me to Wakefield presently. 
And Richard, thou to London straight shall post, 
And bid Richard Nevill, earl of Warwick, 
To leave the city, and with his men of war 
To meet me at St. Albans ten days hence. 
Myself here, in Sandal castle, will provide 
Both men and money to further our attempts. 
Now, what news ? 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. My lord, the queen with thirty thousand 
men, accompanied with the earls of Cumberland, 
Northumberland, and Westmoreland, and others 
of the house of Lancaster, are marching towards 
Wakefield, to besiege you in your castle here. 

Enter Sir JonN and Sir Hugh Mortimer. 
York. A God's name let them come. Cousin 
Montague, post you hence. And, boys, stay you 
with me. 

Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles, 
You're welcome to Sandal in a happy hour. 
The army of the queen means to besiege us. 
Sir John. She shall not need, my lord ; we'll 

meet her in the field. 
York. What ! with five thousand soldiers, uncle 1 
Rich. Ay, father, with five hundred for a need 
A woman's general ! what should you fear ? 

York. Indeed, many brave battles have I won 
in Normandy, 
When as the enemy hath been ten to one ; 
And why should I now doubt of the like success? 
I am resolv'd. Come, let's go. 

Edw. Let's march away j I hear their drums. 

[Exeunt. 



a Piintcd as prose in the ed'.tirn of I5S5. 

215 



icT I.] 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scenes III. IV. 



(SCENE III.) 

Alarms, and then enter the young Earl of Rut- 
land and his Tutor. 

Tutor. Oh, fly, my lord ! let's leave the castle, 
And fly to Wakefield straight. 

Enter Clifford. 

Rut. 0, tutor, look where blocdy Clifford comes. 

Clif. Chnplain, away ! thy priesthood saves thy 
life. 
As for the brat of that accursed duke, 
Whose father slew my father, he sha 1 die. 

Tutor. 0, Clifford, spare this tender lord, lest 
Heaven 
Revenge it on thy head : 0, save his life ! 

Clif. Soldiers,away, and drag him hence perforce: 
Away with the villain ! [Exit Chaplain. 

How now ? what, dead already ? or is it fear 
That makes him close his eyes ? I'll open them. 

Rut. So looks the pent-up lion on the lamb, 
And so he walks insultiug o'er his prey, 
And so he turns again to rend his limbs in sunder : 
0, Clifford, kill me with thy sword, 
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. 
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath ; 
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. 

Clif. In vain thou speakest, poor boy : my 
father's blood 
Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should 
enter. 

Rut. Then let my father's blood ope it again ; 
lie is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. 

Clif. Had I thy brethren here,theirlivesand thine 
Were not revenge sufficient for me ; 
Or should I dig up thy forefathers' graves, 
And hang 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. 
Therefore till I root out that cursed line, 
And leave not one on earth, I live in hell ; 
Therefore — 

Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death. 
To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me. 

Clif. Ay, such pity as my rapier's point affords. 

Rut. I never did thee hurt ; wherefore wilt 
thou kill me ? 

Clif. Thy father hath. 

Rut. But 'twas ere I was born. 
Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me ; 
Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just, 
He be as miserably slain as I. 
0, 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. a 
Plantageuet, I come, Plantagenet, 
And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, 
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, 
Congeal'd with his, do make me wipe off both. 

[Exit. 
(SCENE IV.) 

Alarms ; enter the Duke of York, solus. 

York. Ah, York, post to thy castle, save thy life ! 
The goal is lost ! Thou house of Lancaster, 
Thrice happy chance is it for thee and thine, 
That Heaven abridg'd my days, and cal's me her.ee. 

a The murder is here committed. 
216 



But God knows what chance hath betide my sons: 
But this I know, they have demean'd themselves 
Like men born to renown, by life, or death. 
Three times this day came Richard to my sight, 
And cried " Courage, father : victory or death ! " 
And twice so oft came Edward to my view, 
With purple faulchion, painted to the hilts 
In blood of those whom he had slaughtered. 
0, hark, I hear the drums. No way to fly ; 
No way to save my life ; and here I stay : 
And here my life must end. 
Enter the Queen, Clifford, Northumberland, 
and the Soldiers. 

Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland, 
I dare your quenchless fury to more blood: 
This is the butt, and this abides your shot. 

North. Yield to our mercies, proud Plantagenet. 

Clif. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthful arm 
With downright payment lent unto my father. 
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, 
And made an evening at the noontide prick. 

York. My ashes, like the phoenix, may bring forth 
A bird that will revenge it on you all : 
And in that hope I cast mine eyes to heaven, 
Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. 
Why stay you, lords ? What ! multitudes, and fear ? 

Clif. So cowards fight when they can fly no longer; 
So doves do peck the raven's piercing talons ; 
So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, 
Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. 

York. 0, Clifford, yet bethink thee once again, 
I And in thy mind o'errun my former time ; 
1 And bite thy tongue, that slander'st him with 
cowardice, 
Whose very look hath made thee quake ere this. 

Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word, 
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. 

Queen. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand 
causes 
I would prolong the traitor's life awhile: — 
Wrath makes him deaf ; a speak thou, Northum- 
berland. 

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 baud between his teeth, 
When he might spurn him with his foot away ? 
'T is war's prize to take all advantages, 
And ten to one is no impeach in wars. 

[Fiyht, and talce him. 

Clif Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. 

North. So doth the coney struggle with the net. 

York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd 
booty ; 
So true men yield, by robbers overmatch'd. 

North. What will your grace have done with him? 

Queen. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northum- 
berland, 
Come, make him stand upon this mole-hill here, 
That aim'd at mountains with outstretched arm, 
And parted but the shadow with his hand. 
Was it you that revell'd in our parliament, 
And made a preachment of y T our high descent ? 
Where are your mess of sons to back you now ? 
The wanton Edward, and the lusty George ? 
Or where is that valiant crook-back'd prodigy, 
Dicky, your boy, that, with his grumbling voice, 
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies! 

a Deaf. The quarto of 1595 has death. 



i.CT II. 1 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scene 1 



Or, amongst the rest, where is your darling Rutland? 

Look, York, I dipp'd this napkin in the blood 

That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point, 

Made issue from the bosom of thy 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 much, 

I should lament thy miserable state. 

I prithee grieve to make me merry, York ; 

Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. 

What, hath thy fiery heart so parch'd thine entrails 

That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? 

Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport ; 

York cannot speak unless he wear a crown. — ■ 

A crown for York ! and, lords, bow low to him. 

So, hold you his hands whilst I do set it on. 

Ay, now looks he like a king ! 

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 holy oath ? 

As 1 bethink me, you should not be king 

Till our Henry had shook hands with death. 

And will you impale your head with Henry's glory, 

And rob his temples of the diadem, 

Now in his life, against your holy oath? 

Oh, 't is 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. 

Cllf. That 's my office for my father's death. 

Queen. Yet stay, and let 's hear the orisons he 
makes. 

York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves 
of France, 
Whose tongue 's more poison'd than the adder's 

tooth ! 
How ill beseeming is it in thy sex 
To triumph like an Amazonian trull, 
Upon his woes whom fortune captivates ! 
But that thy face is vizard-like, unchanging, 
Made impudent by use of evil deeds, 
I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush : 
To tell thee of whence thou art, from whom deriv'd, 
'T 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, or it boots thee not, proud queen, 
Unless the adage must be verified, 
That beggars mounted ruu their horse to death. 
'T is beauty that oft makes women proud ; 
But, God he wots, thy share thereof is small : 
'T is government that makes them most admir'd ; 



The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at : 

'T is virtue 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. 

0, tiger's heart wrapp'd in a woman's hide ! 

Flow couldst 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 mild, pitiful, and flexible, 

Thou indurate, stern, rough, remorseless. 

Bidst thou me rage ? why, now thou hast thy will. 

Wouldst have me weep ? why so, thou hast thy wish. 

For raging winds blow up a storm of tears, 

And when the rage allays the rain begins. 

These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; 

And every drop begs vengeance as it falls, 

On thee, fell Clifford, and thee, a false Frenchwoman. 

North. Beshre w me, but his passions move me so 
As hardly I can check mine eyes from tears. 

York. That face of his the hungry cannibals 
Could not have touch'd, would not have stain'd 

with blood ; 
But you are more inhuman, more inexorable, 

ten times more, than tigers of Arcadia. 
See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears. 
This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy 
And lo, with tears I wash the blood away. 
Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of that ; 
And if thou tell the heavy b story well, 

Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears ; 
Ay, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, 
And say, Alas ! it was a piteous deed. 
Here, take the crown, and with the crown my curse ; 
And in thy need, such comfort come to thee, 
As now I reap at thy too cruel hands. 
Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world ; 
My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads. 
North. Had he been slaughterman of all my kin, 

1 could not choose but weep with him, to see 
How inward anger gripes his heart. 

Queen. What, weeping ripe, my lord Northum- 
berland ? 
Think but upon the wrong he did us all, 
And that will quickly dry your melting tears. 
Clif. There 's for my oath, there 's for my father's 
death. [Stabs him. 

Queen. And there's to right our gentle-hearted 
king. [Stabs him. 

York. Open thy gates of mercy, gracious God ! 
My soul flies forth to meet with thee. [Dies. 

Queen. Off with his head, and set it on York gates ; 
So York may overlook the town of York. 

[Exeunt omncs. 



(ACT II.) 



(SCENE I.) 
Enter'E'DVl ARDand Richard,w^A drum and Soldiers. 

Edw. After this dangerous fight and hapless war, 
How doth my noble brother Richard fare ? 

Rich. I cannot joy until I be resolv'd 
Where our right valiant father it oecome. 
How often did I see him bear himself 
As doth a lion midst a herd of neat ; 
So fled the enemies from our valiant father ; a 
Methiuks 't is pride enough to be his son. 



a In the quarto of 1595- 
father." 



'So fled Ills enemies our valiant 



[Three suns appear in the air. 

Edw. Lo, how the morning opes her golden gates, 
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun ! 
Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? 

Rich. Three glorious suns, 
Not sepai'ated by a racking cloud, 
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 inviolate. 



a Thee. The quarto, the. 
b Heavy. So in the quarto of 1591 
omit heavy. 



Subsequent quartos 
217 



Act II.] 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[SCESZ ] 



Now are they but one lamp, one light, oue sun. 
lu this the heaven doth figure some event. 

Eclw. I think it cites us, brother, to the field ; 
That we, the sons of brave Plantageuet, 
Already each one shining by his meed, 
May join in one, an I overpeer the world 
As this the earth ; and, therefore, henceforward, 
I '11 bear upon my target three fair shining suns. 
But what art thou that look'st so heavily 1 
Enter a Messenger. 
Mess. O, one that was a woeful looker-on 
When as the noble duke of York was slain. 

Edw. 0, speak no more, for I can hear no more. 
Rich. Tell on thy tale, for T will hear it all. 
Mess. When as the noble duke was put to flight, 
And then pursued by Clifford and the queen, 
And many soldiers more, who all at once 
Let drive at him, and fore'd the duke to yield ; 
And then they set him on a mole-hill there, _ 
And crown'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 shun : who weeping took it up. 
Then through his breast they thrust their bloody 

swords, 
Who like a lamb fell at the butchers' feet. 
Then on the gates of York they set his head, 
And there it doth remain the piteous spectacle 
That e'er mine eyes beheld. 

Edw. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon, 
Now thou art gone there is no hope for us: 
Now my soul's palace is become a prison. 
0, would she break from compass of my breast, 
For never shall I have more joy. 

Rich. I cannot weep, for all my breast's moisture 
Scarce serves to quench my furnace burning hate. 
I cannot joy till this white rose be dyed 
Even in the heart-blood of the house of Lancaster. 
Richard, I bear thy name,and I'll revenge thy death, 
Or die myself in seeking of revenge. 

Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with 
thee ; 
His chair and dukedom, that remaius for me. 

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; 
For either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. 
Enter the Earl of Warwick, Montague, with 
drum, Ancient, and Soldiers. 
Tl'o-. How now, fair lords : what fare ? What 

news abroad ? 
Rich. Ah, Warwick, should we report 
The baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, 
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told, 
The words would add more anguish than the 

wounds." 
Ah, valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. 

Edw. Ah, Warwick ! Warwick ! that Plantagenet 
Which held thee dear, ay, even as his soul's re- 
demption, 
Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. 

War. Ten days ago I drown'd those news in tears : 
And now, to add more measure to your woes, 
I come to tell you things b since then befallen. 
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, 

a We have here altered the metrical arrangement, which 
is confused and varying in the original copies. 

b Th'ngs. So the edition of 1593 ; in that of 1619, nems. 
218 



Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, 
Tidings, as swiftly as the post could run, 
Were brought me of your loss, and his departure. 
I then in London, keeper of the king, 
Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, 
And very well appointed, as I thought, 
March'd to 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 your late decree in parliament, 
Touching king Henry's heirs, and your succession. 
Short tale to make— we at St. Albans met, 
Our battles joiu'd, and both sides fiercely fought : 
But, whether 't was the coldness of the king 
(He look'd full gently on his warlike queen) 
That robb'd my soldiers of their heated spleen ; 
Or whether 't was report of his success, 
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, 
Who thunders to his captains— blood and death, 
I cannot tell : but, to conclude with truth, 
Their weapons like to lightnings went and came ; 
Our soldiers'— like the night-owl's lazy flight, 
Or, like an idle thresher with a flail- 
Fell geutly down, as if they smote their friends. 
I cheer'd them up with justice of the cause, 
With promise of high pay, and great rewards : 
But all in vain ; they had no hearts to fight, 
Nor we in them no hope to win the day : 
!;"o 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. 

Echo. Thanks, gentle Warwick. 
How far hence is the duke with his power ? 
And when came George from Burgundy to England? 
War. Some five miles off the duke is with his 
power. 
But as for your brother, he was lately sent 
From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, 
With aid of soldiers 'gainst this needful war. 
Rich. 'T was odds, belike, when valiant Warwick 
fled. 
Oft have I heard thy praises in pursuit, 
But ne'er, till now, thy scandal of retire. 

War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou 
hear: 
For thou shalt know that this right hand of mine 
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 Wai wick: blame ine 
not ; 
'T was love I bare thy glories made me speak. 
But, in this troublous time, what 's to be done ? 
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, 
And clad 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 find 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 mo proud birds, 
Have wrought the easy melting king like wax. 
He sware consent to your succession. 



ACT II. J 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scene II 



His oath enrolled in the parliament'; 

But now to London all the crew are gone, 

To frustrate his oath, or what besides 

May make against the house of Lancaster. 

Their power I guess them fifty thousand strong. 

Now if the help of Norfolk and myself 

Can but amount to eight-and-forty a thousand, 

With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March, 

Among the loving Welshmen canst procure, 

Why, via, to London will we march amain, 

And once again bestride our foaming steeds, 

And once again cry charge upon the foe, 

But never once again turn back and fly. 

Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick 
speak : 
Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, 
That cries retire, when Warwick bids him stay ! 

Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean, 
And when thou faint' st, 
Must Edward fall, which peril Heaven forefend ! 

War. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; 
The next degree is England's royal king ; 
And king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd 
In every borough as we pass along : 
And he that casts not up his cap for joy 
Shall for the offence make forfeit of his head. 
King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague, 
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, 
But forward to effect these resolutions. 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, 
The queen is coming with a puissant power, 
And craves your company for speedy counsel. 

War. Why, then it sorts, brave lords ; let 's 
march away. [Exeunt omnes. 

(SCENE II.) 
Enter the King and Queen, Prince Edward, and 
the northern Earls, with drum and Soldiers. 

Queen. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town 
of York. 
Yonder 's the head of that ambitious enemy 
That sought to be impaled with your crown. 
Doth not the object please your eye, my lord ? 

King. Even as the rocks please them that fear 
their wrack. 
Withhold revenge, dear God ! 't is not my fault, 
Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow. 

C'lif. My gracious lord, this too much lenity 
And harmful pity must be laid aside. 
To whom do lions east their gentle looks ? 
Not to the beasts that would usurp his (their) den. 
Whose hand is that the savage bear doth lick ? 
Not his that spoils his young before his face. 
Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting ? 
Not he that sets his foot upon her back. 
The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, 
And doves will peck in rescue 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 give consent to disinherit him, 
Which argued thee a most unnatural father. 
Unreasonable creatures feed their young ; 
And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, 
Yet, in protection of their tender ones, 

a hight anti-forty. So the edition of 1619; that of 1595 
has "48," 



Who hath not seen them (even with those same 

wings 
Which they have sometimes used in fearful flight) 
Make war with him that climbs unto their nest, 
Offering their own lives in their young's defence ? 
For shame, my lord ! make them your precedent ! 
Were it not pity that this goodly boy 
Should lose his birthright through his father's fault; 
And long hereafter say unto his child, 
" What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, 
My careless father fondly gave away " ? 
Look on the boy, and let his manly face, 
Which promiseth successful fortune to us all, 
Steel thy melting thoughts, 
To keep thine own, and leave thine own with him. 

King. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, 
Inferring arguments of mighty force. 
But tell me, didst thou never yet hear tell 
That things evil a got had ever bad success ? 
And happy ever was it for that son, 
Whose father for his hoarding went tc hell ? 
I 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 asks a thousand times more care to keep 
Thau may the present profit countervail. 
Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know 
How it doth grieve me that thy head stands there. 

Queen. My lord, this harmful pity makes your 
followers faint. 
You promis'd knighthood to your princely son ; 
Unsheathe your sword, and straightway b dub him 

knight. 
Kneel down, Edward. 

King. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight: 
And learn this lesson, boy, c — draw thy sword iu 
right. 

Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, 
I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, 
And iu that quarrel use it to the death. 

North. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. 
Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness ; 
For, with a band of fifty thousand men, 
Comes Warwick backing of the duke of York ; 
And in the towns whereas they pass 'along, 
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: 
Prepare your battles, for they be at hand. 

Cliff. I would your highness would depart the 
field ; 
The queen hath best success when you are absent. 

Queen. Do, good my lord, and leave us to oui 
fortunes. 

King. Why, that's my fortune, therefore I'll 
stay still. 

Cliff. Be it with resolution then to fight. 

Prince. Good father, cheer these noble lords ; 
Unsheathe your sword, sweet father ; cry Saint 
George. 

Cliff. Pitch we our battle here, for hence we 
will not move. 

Enter the house of York. 

Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry, wilt thou yield thy 
crown, 
And kneel for mercy at thy sovereign's feet ? 

a Evil, in the quarto of 1595 ; ill, in that of 1619. 
b Straightway. So in the quarto of 1019 ; in that of 1595, 
straight do. 

c Boy. So the quarto of 1595; that of 1619 omits boy. 

219 



Act II.] 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene III 



Queen. Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy ! 
Becomes it thee to be thus malapert 
Before thy king and lawful sovei - eign ? 

Edw. I am his king, and he should bend his knee; 
I was adopted heir by his consent. 

George. Since when he hath broke his oath ; for, 
as we hear, 
You that are king, though he do wear the crown, 
Have caus'd him by new act of parliament 
To blot our brother out, and put his own son in. 

Clif. And reason, George : 
Who should succeed the father but the son ? 
Rich. Are you there, butcher] 
Clif. Ay, crook-back, here I stand to answer thee, 
Or any of your sort. 
Rich. ! T was you that kill'd young Rutland, was 

it not? 
Clif. Yes, and old York too, and yet not satisfied. 
Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. 
War. "What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield 

thy crown ? 
Queen. What, long-tongued Warwick, dare you 
speak ? 
When you and I met at Saint Albans last, 
Your legs did betterservice than yotir hands. 
War. Ay, then 't was my turn to flee, a but now 

't is thine. 
Clif You said so b much before, and yet you fled. 
War. 'T was not your valour, Clifford, that 

drove me thence. 
North. No, nor your manhood, Warwick, that 

could make you stay. 
Rich. Northumberland,Northumberlaud,we hold 
Thee reverently. 

Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain 
The execution of my big swollen heart, 
Against that Clifford there, that cruel child-killer.' 1 
Clif. Why, I kill'd thy father ; call'st thou him 

a child ? 
Rich . Ay, like a villain, and a treacherous coward, 
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ; 
But ere sunset I'll make thee curse the deed, 
King. Have done with words, great lords, and 

hear me speak. 
Queen. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. 
King. I prithee give no limits to my tongue; 
I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. 8 

Clif. My lord, the wound that bred this meet- 
ing here 
Cannot be cur'd with words; therefore be still. 

Rich. Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword : 
By Him that made us all, I am resolv'd 
That Clifford's manhood hangs upon his tongue. 
Edw. What say'st thou, Henry, shall I have my 
ri^ht or no ? 
A thousand men have broke their fast to-day, 
That ne'er shall dine unless thou yield the crown. 
War. If thou deny, their bloods be on thy head ; 
For York injustice puts his armour on. 

Prince. If all be right that Warwick says is right, 
There is no wrong, but all things must be right. 
Rich. Whosoever got thee, there thy mother 
stands ; 
For well I wot thou hast thy mother's tongue. 

a Flee, in quarto of 1595 ; flij, in that of 1619. 
b So, in quarto of 1595 ; as, in that of 1619. 
c That, in quarto of 1595, is omitted in that of 1619. 
A This metrical arrangement, which is that of the quarto 
of 1619, is confused in that of 1595 

e So the quarto of 1595. In that of 1619 it is— 
" I being a king am privileged to speak." 
220 



Queen. But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam ■ 
But like a foul misshapen stigmatic, 
Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, 
As venom toads, or lizards' fainting looks. 

Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, 
Thy father bears the title of a king, 
As if a channel should be call'd the sea : 
Sham'st thou not, knowing from whence thou art 

deriv'd. 
To parley thus with England's lawful heirs ? 

Edw. A wisp of straw were worth a thousand 
crowns, 
To make that shameless callet know herself. 
Thy husband's father revell'd in the heart of France, 
And tam'd the French, and made the dauphin stoop : 
And had he match'd according to his state, 
He might have kej>t that glory till this day. 
But when he took a beggar to his bed, 
And grae'd thy poor sire with his bridal day, 
Then that sunshine bred a shower for him, 
Which wash'd his father's fortunes out of France, 
And heap'd seditious on his crown at home. 
For what hath mov'd these tumults but thy pride 1 
Hadst thou been meek, our title yet had slept ; 
And we, in pity of the gentle king, 
Had slipp'd our claim until another age. 

Geo. But when we saw our summer brought 
thee gain, 
And that the harvest brought us no increase, 
We set the axe to thy usurping root : 
And though the edge have something hit ourselves. 
Yet know thou we will never cease to strike 
Till we have hewn thee down, 
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. 

Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee ; 
Nor willing any longer conference, 
Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. 
Sound trumpets ! let our bloody colours wave ! 
And either victory, or else a grave. 

Queen. Stay, Edward, stay. 

Edw. Hence, wrangling woman; I'll no longer stay: 
Thy words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. 

[Exeunt omncs. 
(SCENE III.) 
Alarms. Enter Warwick. 

War. Sore spent with toil, as runners with the race; 
I lay me down a little while to breathe : 
For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, 
Hath robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, 
And, force perforce, needs must I rest myself. 
Enter Edward. 

Edw. Smile, gentle Heavens ! or strike, ungentle 
death ! 
That we may die unless we gain the day : 
What fatal star malignant frowns from heaven, 
Upon the harmless line of York's true house ? 
Enter George. 

Geo. Come, brother, come; let's- to the field again, 
For yet there's hope enough to win the day : 
Then let us back to cheer our fainting troops, 
Lest they retire now we have left the field. 

War. How now, my lords, what hap ? what hope 
of good ? 

Enter Richard, running. 

Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn 
thyself ? 
Thy noble father in the thickest throngs 
Cried still for Warwick, his thrice valiant son. 



Act II] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scenes IV., 1 



Until with thousand swords he was beset, 
And many wounds made in his aged breast ; 
And as he tottering sate upon bis steed. 
He waft his hand to me, and cried aloud, 
"Richard, commend me to my valiant son ;" 
And still he cried, " Warwick, revenge my death ; " 
And with those words he tumbled off his horse, 
And so the noble Salisbury gave up the ghost. 

TFar. Then let the earth be drunken with Lis blood: 
I '11 kill my horse, because I will not fly : 
And here to God of heaven I make a vow, 
Never to pass from forth this bloody field 
Till I am full revenged for his death. 

Echo. Lord Warwick, I do bend my knees with 
thine, 
And in that vow now join my soul to thee. 
Thou setter up and puller down of kings, 
Vouchsafe a gentle victory to us, 
Or let us die before we lose the day ! 

Geo. Then let ushaste to cheer the soldiers' hearts, 
And call them pillars that will stand to us, 
And highly promise to remunerate 
Their trusty service in these dangerous wars. 

Rich. Come, come away, and stand not to debate, 
For yet is hope of fortune good enough. 
Brothers, give me your hands, and let us part 
And take our leaves, until we meet again, 
Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth. 
Now I, that never wept, now melt in woe, 
To see these dire mishaps continue so. 
Warwick, farewell. 

War. Away, away ! once more, sweet lords, 
farewell. [Exeunt omnes 

(SCENE IV.) 
Alarms, and then enter Richard at one door, and 
Clifford at the other. 
Rich. A Clifford, a Clifford ! 
Clif. A Richard, a Richard ! 
Rich. Now, Clifford, for York and young Rut- 
laud's death, 
This thirsty sword, that longs to drink thy blood, 
Shall lop thy limbs, and slice thy cursed heart, 
For to revenge the murthers thou hast made. 

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone: 
This is the hand that stabb'd thy father York ; 
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland ; 
And here's the heart that triumphs in their deaths, 
And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire aud 

brother, 
To execute the like upon thyself: 
And so, have at thee. 

Alarms. They fight, and then enters Warwick and 
rescues Richard, and then exeunt omms. 

(SCENE V.) 

Alarms still, and then enter Henry solus. 

Hen. O gracious God of heaven, look down on us, 
And set some ends to these incessant griefs ! 
How like a mastless ship upon the seas 
This woeful battle doth continue still ! 
Now leaning this way, now to that side driven, 
And none doth know to whom the day will fall. 
Oh, would my death might stay these civil jars ! 
Would I had never reigu'd, nor ne'er been king ! 
Margaret and Clifford chide me from the field, 
Swearing they had best success when I was thence. 
Would God that I were dead, so all were well: 
Or would my crown suffice, I were content 



To yield it them, and live a private life. 

Enter a Soldier with a dead man in his arms. 

Sol. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. 
This man, that I have slain in fight to-day, 
May be possessed of some store of crowns ; 
And I will search to find them if I can. 
But stay ; methinks it is my father's face : 
Oh, I ! 'tis he whom I have slain in fight. 
From London was I press'd out by the king ; 
My father he came on the part of York ; 
And in this conflict I have slain my father. 
Oh pardon, God ! I knew not what I did ! 
And pardon, father, for I knew thee not ! 
Enter another Soldier with a dead man. 

2 Sol. Lie there, thou that fought'st with n.o 
so stoutly ; 
Now let me see what store of gold thou hast. 
But stay, methinks this is no famous face: 
Oh no, it is my son that I have slain in fight! 
Oh, monstrous times, begetting such events ; 
How cruel, bloody, and ironous, a 
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget ! 
Poor boy, thy father gave thee life too late, 
And hath bereav'd thee of thy life too soon ! 

King. Woe above woe! grief more than common 
grief ! 
Whilst lions war and battle for their dens, 
Poor lambs do feel the rigour of their wraths : 
The red rose and the white are on his face, 
The fatal colours of our striving houses. 
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish, 
For if you strive, ten thousand lives must perish. 

1 Sol. How will my mother, for my father's death, 
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ! 

2 Sol. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, 
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ! 

King. How will the people now misdeem their 
king ! 
Oh, would my death their minds could satisfy ! 

1 Sol. Was ever son so rude his father's blood 

to spill ? 

2 Sol. Was ever father so unnatural his son to 

kill ? 
King. Was ever king thusgriev'd and vexed still ? 

1 Sol. I '11 bear thee hence from this accursed 

place, 
For woe is me to see my father's face. 

[Exit with his Father. 

2 Sol. I '11 bear thee hence, and let them fight 

that will, 
For I have murther'd where I should not kill. 

[Exit icitli his Son. 
King. W T eep, wretched man, I '11 lay thee tear 
for tear : 
Here sits a king, as woebegone as thee. 
Alarms, and enter the Queen. 
Queen. Away, my lord, to Berwick presently ! 
The day is lost, our friends are murthered ; 
No help is left for us, therefore away. 
Enter Prince Edward. 
Prince. Oh father, fly ; our men have left the 
field; 
Take horse, sweet father, let us save ourselves. 

Enter Exeter. 
Exet. Away, my lord, for vengeance comes along 
with him: 

a Ironous, in the quarto of 1G19; ironious, in that of 1595. 

221. 



kcr n.] 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene VI. 



Nay, stand not to expostulate ; make haste, 
Or else come after: I'll away before. 

K, Hen. Nay, stay, good Exeter, for I '11 along 
with thee. 

(SCENE VI.) 

Enter ChiFFOVLD^oundedyivith an arrow in Jus neck, 

Clif. Here burns my candle out, 
That, whilst it lasted, gave king Henry light. 
Ah, Lancaster, I fear thine overthrow, 
More than my body's parting from my soul. 
My love, and fear, glued many friends to thee ; 
And now 1 die, that tough commixture melts. 
Impairing Henry strengthen'd misproud York: 
The common people swarm like summer flies, 
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ? 
And who shines now but Henry's enemy ? 
Oh, Phoebus ! hadst thou never given consent 
That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, 
Thy burning car had never scorchVl the earth. 
And, Henry, hadst thou liv'd as kings should do 
And as thy father and his father did, 
Giving no foot unto the house of York, 
I and ten thousand in this woeful land 
Had left no mourning widows for our deaths, 
And thou this day hadst kept thy throne in peace. 
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air ? 
And what makes robbers bold but lenity ? 
Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds ; 
No way to fly, no strength to hold out flight ; 
The foe is merciless and will not pity me, 
And at their hands I have deserv'd no pity. 
1 he air is got into my bleeding wounds, 
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. 
Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest ; 
I stabb'd your fathers, now come, split my breast. 

Enter Edward, Richard, Warwick, and Soldiers. 

Edw. Thus far our fortunes keep an upward 
course, 
And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. 
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen, 
That now towards Berwick doth post amain. 
But think you that Clifford is fled away 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 be, I warrant him dead. 

[Clifford groans and then dies. 

Edw. Hark ! what soul is this that takes his 
heavy leave ? 

Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's de- 
parture. 

Edw. See who it is : and now the battle 's ended, 
Friend, or foe, lit him be friendly used. 

Rich. Reverse that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford, 
Who kill'd our tender brother Rutland, 
And stabb'd our princely father, duke of York. 

War. From oft' the gates of York fetch down 
the head, 
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there: 
Instead of that, let his supply the room. 
Measure for measure must be answered. 



Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our 
house, 
That nothing sung to us but hlood and death ; 
Now his evil-boding tongue no more shall speak. 

War. I think his understanding is bereft. 
Say, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee ? 
Dark cloudy death o'ei shades his beams of life, 
And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. 

Rich. Oh, would he did ! and so, perhaps, he doth; 
And 'tis his policy, that in the time of death 
He might avoid sucJi bitter storms as he 
In his hour of death did give unto our father. 

Geo. Richard, if thou thiuk'st so, vex him with 
eager words. 

Rich. Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace. 

Ediv. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. 

War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy fault. 

Geo. Whilst we devise fell tortures for thy fault. 

Rich. Thou pitied'st York, and I am son to York. 

Edw. Thou phied'st Rutland, and I will pity 
thee. 

Geo. Where's Captain Margaret to fenceyounow? 

War. They mock thee, Clifford ; swear as thou 
wast wont. 

Rich. What, not an oath ? Nay, then I know 
he 's dead : 
'Tis hard when Clifford cannot 'ford his friend an 

oath: 
Ey 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. 

liar. Ay, but he is dead: Off with the traitor's 
head, 
And rear it in the place your father's stands. 
And now to London with triumphant march, 
There to be crowned England's lawful king. 
Fro in thence shall Warwick crossthe seas to France, 
And ask the lady Bona for thy (jueen. 
So shalt thou sinew both these lands together. 
And having France thy friend, thou need'st not 

dread 
The scattered foe that hopes to rise again. 
And though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, 
Yet look to have them busy to offend thine ears. 
First, I '11 see the coronation done, 
And afterward I'll cross the seas to France, 
To effect this marriage, if it please my lord. 

Edw. Even as thou wilt, good Warwick, let it be 
But first before we go, George, kneel down. 
We here create thee duke of Clarence, 
And girt thee with the sword ; 
Our younger brother, Richard, duke of Gloster. 
Warwick as myself shall do and undo as himself 
pleaseth best. 

Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence, George of 
Gloster, 
For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. 

War. Tush ! that's a childish observation. 
Richard, be duke of Gloster: Now to London, 
To see these honours in possession. 

[Exeunt omncs. 



222 



Act III.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scenes {., fl 



(ACT III.) 



(SCENE I.) 

Enter two Keepers with boiv and arrows. 

Keep. Come, let's take our stands upon this hill ; 
And by and by the deer will come this way. 
But stay, here comes a man, let 'a listen him awhile. 

Enter King Henrt disguised. 

King. From Scotland ami stolen,even of pure love, 
And thus disguis'd, to greet my native land. 
No, Henry, no, it is no land of thine ; 
No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, 
No humble suitors sue to thee for right ; 
For how canst thou help them, and not thyself ? 

Keep. Ay, marry, sir, here 'a a deer, his skin is 
a keeper's fee. Sirrah, stand close, for, as I think, 
this is the king King Edward hath depoa'd. 

King. My queen and son, poor souls, are gone 
to France; 
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick, 
To entreat a marriage with the lady Bona. 
If this be true, poor queen and son, 
Your labour is but spent in vain ; 
For Lewis is a prince soon won with words, 
And Warwick is a subtle orator. 
He laughs, aud says his Edward is install'd ; 
She weeps, and says her Henry is depos'd : 
He, on his right hand, asking a wife for Edward ; 
She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry. 

Keep. What art thou that talk'st of kings and 
queens ? 

King. More than I seem, for less I should not be ■ 
A man at least, and more I cannot be : 
And men may talk of kings, and why not I ? 

Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king 
thyself. 

King. Why, so I am in mind, though not in show. 

Keep. And if thou be a king, where is thy crown ? 

King. My crown is in my heart, not on my head ; 
My crown is call'd content, 
A crown that kings do seldom times enjoy. 

Keep. And if thou be a king crown' d with content, 
Your crown content and you must be content 
To go with us unto the officer, 
For, as we think, you are our quondam king, 
King Edward hath depos'd; 
And therefore we charge you, in God s name and 

the king's, 
To go along with us unto the officers. 

King. God's name be fulfill'd, your king's name 
be obey'd; 
And be you kings; command, and I'll obey. 

[Exeunt omnes. 
(SCENE II.) 

Enter King Edward, Clarence, and Gloster, 
Montague, Hastings, and the Lady Grey. 

K. Edw. Brothers of Clarence and of Gloucester, 
This lady's husband here, sir Richard Grey, 
At the battle of St. Albans did lose his life : 
His lands then were seiz'd on by the conqueror. 
Her suit is now to repossess those lands : 
And sith in quarrel of the house of York 
The noble gentleman did lose his life, 
In honour we cannot deny her suit. 

Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant it then. 

K. Edw. Ay, so I will ; but yet I '11 make a pause. 

Glo. Ay ? is the wind in that door ? 

Cla. I see the lady hath some thing to grant 



Before the king will grant her humble suit. 

Glo. He knows the game : how well he keeps 

the wind ! 
K. Edw. Widow, come some other time to know 

our mind. 
Lady G. May it please your grace, I cannot brook 

delays ; 
I beseech your highness to despatch me now. 
K. Ediv. Lords, give us leave ; we mean to try 

this widow's wit. 
Cla. Ay, good leave have you. 
Glo. For you will have leave, 
Till youth take leave, and leave you to your crutch. 
K. Edw. Come hither, widow; how many children 

hast thou ? 
Cla. I think he means to beg a child on her. 
Glo. Nay, whip me then, he '11 rather give her two. 
Lady G. Three, my most gracious lord. 
Glo. You shall have four au a you will be rul'd by 

him. 
K. Edw. Wer't not pity they should lose their 

father's lands ? 
Lady G. Be pitiful then, dread lord, and grant 

it them. 
K. Echv. I '11 tell theehow these lands are to be got. 
Lady G. So shall you bind me to your highness' 

service. 
K. Edw. What service wilt thou do me, if I grant 

it them ? 
Lady G. Even what your highness shall command. 
Glo. Nay, then, widow, I '11 warrant you all your 

husband's lands, 
If you grant to do what he commands. 
Fight close, or in good faith you catch a clap. 
Cla. Nay, I fear her not unless she fall. 
Glo. Marry, gods forbot, man, for he '11 take 'van- 
tage then. 
Lady G. Why stops my lord? shall I not know 

my task ? 
IC Edw. An easy task, 'tis but to love a king, 
Lady G. That 's soon perf orm'd, because I am a 

subject. 
K. Edw. Why, then thy husband's lauds I freely 

give thee. 
Lady G. I take my leave with many thousand 

thanks. 
Cla. The match is made; she seals it with a curtsy. 
K. Edw. Stay, widow, stay ; what love dost thou 

think 
I sue so much to get ? 

Lady G. My humble service, 
Such as subjects owe, aud the laws command. 

K. Edw. No, by my troth, I meant no such love, 
But to tell thee the truth, I aim to lie with thee. 
Lady G. To tell you plain, my lord, I had rather 

lie in prison. 
K. Edw. Why, then thou canst not get thy hus- 
band's lands. 
Lady G. Then mine honesty shall be my dower, 
For by that loss I will not purchase tnem. 

K. Edw. Herein thou wrong'st thy children 

mightily. 
Lady G. Herein your highness wrongs both 

them and me. 
But, mighty lord, this merry inclination 
Agrees not with the sadness of my suit. 

a An, in the quarto of 1593 ; if, in that of 1619. 

223 



A.CT 1II.1 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene III 



Please it your highness to dismiss me, either with 
ay or no. 

K. Edw. Ay, if thou say ay to my request ; 
No, if thou say no to my demand. 

Lady G. Then no, my lord ; my suit is at au end. 

G^o.Thewidowlikes him not ; she bends the brow. 

C7a. Why ,he is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. 

K. Edw. Her looks are all replete with majesty: 
One way, or other, she is for a king ; 
And she shall be my love, or else my queen. 
Say, that king Edward took thee for his queen. 

Lady G. 'Tis better said than done, my gra- 
cious lord ; 
I am a subject fit to jest withal, 
Lut far unfit to be a sovereign. 

K. Edw. Sweet widow, by my state I swear, 
I speak no more than what my heart intends, 
And that is, to enjoy thee for my love. 

Lady G. And that is more than I will yield unto ; 
I know I am too bad to be your queen, 
And yet too good to be your concubine. 

K.Edw You cavil, widow ; I did mean my queen. 

Lady G. Your grace would be loth my sous 
should call you father. 

K. Edw. No more than when my daughters call 
thee mother. 
Thou art a widow, aud 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 of many children. 
Argue no more, for thou shalt be my queen. 

Glo. The ghostly father now hath done his shrift. 

Cla. Wheu he was made a shriver, 't was for shift. 

K. Edw. Brotheri?, you muse what talk the 
widow and I have had. 
You would think it strange if I should marry her. 

Cla. Marry her, my lord ! to whom ? 

K. Edw. Why, Clarence, to myself. 

Glo. That would be ten days' wonder at the least. 

Cla. Why, that's a day longer than a wonder lasts. 

Glo. And so much more are the wonders in ex- 
tremes. 

K. Edw. Well, jest on, brothers ; I can tell you 
Fler suit is granted for her husband's lands. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. An it please your grace, Henry your foe 
is taken, 
And brought as prisoner to your palace gates. 

A'.7ftZ!t'.Away\vithhim,and send himtotheTower; 
Aud let 's go question with the man about 
His apprehension. Lords, along, and use 
This lady honourably. [Exeunt omnes. 

Manet Gloster, and speaks. 

Glo. 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 1 look for ! 
For I am not yet look'd on iu 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 : 
A cold premeditation for my purpose ! 
What other pleasure is there in the world beside ? 
I will go clad my body in gay ornaments, 
And lull myself within a lady's lap, 
And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks. 
Oh 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, 
224 



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 ? 
Easier for me to compass twenty crowns. 
Tut ! I can smile, and murther when I smile ; 
I 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 I do this, and cannot get the crown ? 
Tush ! were it ten times higher, I '11 pull it down. 

[Exit. 

(SCENE III.) 

Enter King Lewis, an d the Lady Lona, Queen Ma r- 
garet, Prince Edward, and Oxford, with otht rs. 

Lew. Welcome, queen Margaret, to the court of 
France. 
It fits not Lewis to sit while thou dost stand ; 
Sit by my side, aud here I vow to thee, 
Thou shalt have aid to repossess thy right, 
And beat proud Edward from his usurped seat, 
And place king Henry in his former rule. 

Queen. I humbly thank your royal majesty ; 
And pray the God of heaven to bless thy state, 
Great king of France, thatthus regardsour wrongs. 

Enter Warwick. 

Lew. How now ! who is this? 

Queen. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's chiefest 
friend. 

Lew. Welcome, brave Warwick : what brings 
thee to France ? 

War. From worthy Edward, king of England, 
My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, 
I come in kindness and unffigned 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. Andif thisgoforward all our hope is done. 

War. And, gracious madam, in our king's behalf, 
I am commanded, with your love and favour, 
Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue 
To tell the passions of my sovereign's heart, 
Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, 
Hath plac'd thy glorious image and thy virtues. 

Queen. King Lewis and Lady Bona, hear me speak, 
Before you answer Warwick or his words, 
For he it is hath done us all these wrongs. 

War. Injurious Margaret ! 

Prince. And why not queen ? 

War. Because thy father Henry did usui p, 
And thou no more art prince than she is queen. 

O.r/.ThenWarwickdisnnuuls great John of Gaunt, 
That did subdue the greatest part of Spain ; 
And after John of Gaunt, wise Henry the fourth, 
Whose wisdom was a mirror to the world ; 
And after this wise prince Henry the a fifth, 
Who with his prowess conquered all France : — 
From these our Henry 's liueally descent. 

War. Oxford, how haps that in this smooth 
discourse 
You told not how Heury the sixth had lost 
All that Henry the fifth had gotten ? 
Methinks these peers of France should smile at that ! 

» The. So the quarto of] 595; omitted in that of 1G'9. 



ACT IH.l 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scene HI. 



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 deny thy king, 
Whom thou obeyedst thirty and eight years, 
And (not) bewray thy treasons 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 kiug. 

Oxf. Call him my kiug, by whom mine elder 
brother, 
The lord Aubrey Vere, was done to death ; 
And more than so, my father 
Even in the downfal of his mellow'd years, 
When age did call him to the door of death ? 
No, Warwick, no; whilst life upholds tliis arm, 
This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. 

War. And I the house of York. 

Lew. Queen Margaret, prince Edward, audOxford, 
Vouchsafe to forbear awhile, till I do talk 
A word with Warwick. 

Now, Warwick, even upon thy honour tell me true ; 
Is Edward lawful king or no ? for I were loth 
To link with him that is not lawful heir. 

War. Thereon I pawn mine honour and my credit. 

Lew. What, is he gracious in the people's eyes < 

War. The more that Heury is unfortunate. 

Lew. What is his love to 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, 
The root whereof was fix'd in virtue's ground, 
The leaves and fruit maintaiu'd with beauty's sun ; 
Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, 
Unless the lady Bona quite his pain. 

Lew. Then, sister, let us hear your firm resolve. 

Bona. Your grant or your' 1 denial shall be miue. 
But ere this day I must confess, 
When I have heard your king's deserts recounted, 
Miue ears have tempted judgment to desire. 

Lew. Then draw near, queen Margaret, and he a 
witness 
That Bona shall be wife to the Euglish king. 

Prince. To Edward, but not the Euglish king. 

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 your state, 
And better 't were to trouble him than France. 
Sound for a Post within. 

Lew. Here comes some post, Warwick, to thee or us. 

Post. My lord ambassador, this letter is for you, 
Sent from your brother, Marquess Montague. 
This from our king, unto your majesty. 
Aud these to you, madam, from whom I know not. 

Oxf. I like it well that our fair queen and mistress 
Smiles at her news, when Warwick frets at his. 

Prince. And mark how Lewis stamps as he 
were nettled. 

Lew. Now, Margaret and Warwick, what are 
your news ? 

Queen. Miue is such as fills my heart with joy. 

War. Mine full of sorrow and heart's discontent. 

Lew. What, hath your kiug married the lady Grey, 
Aud now, to excuse himself, sends us a post of papers? 
How dares he presume to use us thus ? 

a Your. So the quarto of 1595 ; omitted in the quarto of 

isiy. 



Queen. This proveih Edward's love, and War- 
wick'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 ; 
And most himself, if he could see his shame. 
Did I forget, that by the house of York 
My father came untimely to his death ? a 
Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece ? 
Did I impale him with the regal crown, 
And thrust king Henry from his native home ' 
And (most ungrateful) doth he use me thus ? 
My gracious queen, pardon what is past, 
And henceforth I am thy true servitor : 
I will revenge the wrongs done to lady Bona, 
And replant Henry in his former state. 

Queen. Yes, Warwick, I 'IP quite forget thy 
former faults, 
If now thou wilt become king Henry's friend. 

War. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, 
That if kiug Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us 
With some few bands of chosen soldiers, 
I '11 undertake to land them on our coast, 
And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 
'T is not his new-made bride shall succour him. 

Lew. Then at the last I firmly am resolv'd 
You shall have aid : 

Aud, English messenger, return in post, 
And tell false Edward, thy supposed king, 
That Lewis of France is sending over maskers 
To revel it with him aud his new bride. 

Bona. Tell him, in hope he '11 be a widower shortly 
I '11 wear the willow garland for his sake. 

Queen. Tellhim,mymourningweedsbelaid aside, 
And I am ready to put armour on. 

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me 
wrong ; 
And therefore I '11 uncrown him ere 't be long. 
There 's thy reward ; be gone. [Exit Messenger. 

Lew. But now tell me, Warwick, what assurance 
I shall have of thy true loyalty ? 

IFflr.This shall assure my constant loyalty : 
If that our queen and this young prince agree, 
I '11 join mine eldest daughter and my joy 
To hitn forthwith in holy wedlock bands. [well: 

Queen. With all my heart; that match I like full 
Love her, son Edward, she is fair and young ; 
Aud give thy hand to Warwick for thy love. 

Lew. It is enough; and now we will prepare 
To levy soldiers for to go with you. 
And you, lord Bourbon, our high admiral, 
Shall waft them safely to the English coast ; 
And chase proud Edward from his slumb'ring 

trance, 
For mocking marriage with the name of France. 

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 stale but me ? 
Then none but I shall turn his jest to sorrow. 
I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown, 
And I '11 be chief to bring him clown again : 
Not that I pity Henry's misery, 
But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. [Exeunt. 

a So the quarto of 1595; that of 1619, " to an uniimtly 
death." 

b I'll, in the quarto of 1G19' that of 1595, / do. 



Histoiues. — Vol. II. 



Q 



225 



Act IV.] 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene 1 



(ACT IV.) 



(SCENE I.) 
£nler Kjnq Edward, the Queen, Clarence, Glos- 
ter, Montague, Hastings, and Pembroke, with 
Soldiers. 

K. Edw. Brothers of Clarence and of Gloster, what 
think you of our marriage with the lady Grey ? 

Cla." My lord, we think as Warwick and Lewis, 
that are so slack in judgment that they will take 
no offence at this sudden marriage. 

K. Edw. Suppose they do, they are but Lewis and 
Warwick; and I am both a your king and Warwick's, 
and will be obeyed. 

Glo. And shall, because our kiug; but yet such 
sudden marriages seldom prove well. 

K. Edw. Yea, brother Richard, are you against 

us, too ? 
Glo. Not I, my lord ; no, God forefend that I 
Shoidd once gainsay your highness' pleasure ; 
Ay, and 't were pity 

To sunder them that yoke so well together. 
K. Edw. Setting your scorns and your dislikes 
aside, 
Show me some reasons why the lady Grey 
May not be my love, and England's queen ? [ings. 
Speak freely,Clarence,Gloster, Montague, and Hast- 
Cla. My lord, then this is mine opinion, — that 
Warwick, 
Being dishonour'd in his embassage, 
Doth seek revenge to quite his injuries. 

Glo. And Lewis, in regard of his sister's wrongs, 
Doth join with Warwick to supplant your state. 
K. Edw. Suppose that Lewis and Warwick be 
appeas'd 
By such means as I can best devise. 

Mont. But yet to have juin'd with Franco in 
this alliance 
Would more have strengthen'd this our common- 
wealth, 
'Gainst foreign storm s,thau any home-bred marrin ge. 

Hast. Let England be true within itself, 

We need not France, nor any alliance with them. 

Cla. For this one speech, the lord Hastings well 

deserves [ford. 

To have the daughter and heir of the lord Hunger- 

K. Edw. And what then ? It was our will it 

should be so. 
Cla. Ay, and for such a thing, too, the lord Scales 
Did well deserve at your hands 
To have the daughter of the lord Bonfield, 
And left your brothers to go seek elsewhere : 
But in your madness you bury brotherhood. 

K. Edw. Alas, poor Clarence ! is it for a wife 
That thou art malcontent? 

Why, man, be of good cheer, I '11 provide thee one. 
Cla. Nay, you play'd the broker so ill for yourself, 
That you shall give me leave to make my choice 
As I think good : and to that intent 
I shortly mean to leave you. 

K. Edw. Leave me, or tarry, I am full resolv'd 
Edward will not be tied to his brothers' wills. 

Queen. My lords, do me but right, 
And you must confess, before it pleas'd his highness 
To advance my state to title of a queen, 
That I was not ignoble from my birth, [frowns ; 
K. Edw. Forbear, my love, to fawn upon their 
For thee they must obey, nay, shall obey, 
An if they look for favour at my hands. 

a Both is omitted in the quarto of 1595. 
99fi 



Mont. My lord, here is the messenger retnrn'd 
from France. 

Enter Messenger. 
K. Edw. Now, sirrah, what letters ? or what news? 
Mess. No letters, my lord, and such news as with- 
out your highness' special 1 pardon I dare not relate. 
K. Edw. We pardon thee, and (as near as thou 
canst) tell me, 
What said Lewis to our letters ? 

Mess. At my departure 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 bride." 

A'. Edw. Is Lewis so brave] Belike he thinks 
me Henry. 
But what said lady Bona to these wrongs ? 

Mess. "Tell him," quoth she, "in hope he'll 
prove a widower shortly, 
I '11 wear the willow garland for his sake." 

K. Edw. She had the wrong ; 
Indeed she could say little less. But what said 

Henry's queen? 
For, as I hear, she was then in place. 

Mess. " Tell him," quoth she, " my mourning 
weeds be done, 
And I am ready to put armour on." 

K.Edw.Then belike she means to play the Amazon. 
But what said Warwick to these injuries ? 

Mess. He, more incensed than the rest, my lord, 
" Tell him," quoth he, "that he hath done me wrong, 
And therefore I'll uncrown him ere 't be long." 
K. Edw. Ha ! durst the traitor breathe out such 
proud words ! 
But I will arm me to prevent the worst. 
But what, is Warwick friends with Margaret ? 
Mess. Ay, my good lord, they are so link'd in 
friendship, 
That young prince Edward marries Warwick's 
daughter. 
Cla. The elder, belike ; Clarence shall have the 
younger. 
Ail you that love me and Warwick follow me. 

[Exeunt Cla. and Son. 
K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset fled to War wick ? 
What say you, brother Richard, will you stand to us? 
Glo. Ay, my lord, in despite of all that shall 
withstand you. 
For why hath nature made me halt downright, 
But that I should be valiant and stand to it? 
For if I would I cannot run away. 

K. Edw. Pembroke, go raise an army presently. 
Pitch up my tent ; for in the field this night 
I mean to rest, and on the morrow morn 
I'll march to meet proud Warwick, ere he land 
Those straggling troops which he hath got in France. 
But ere I go, Montague and Hastings, 
You above all the rest are near allied 
In blood to Warwick ; therefore tell me [truly, 
If you favour him more than me, or not. Speak 
For I had rather have you open enemies 
Thau hollow friends. 

Mont. So God help Montague, as he proves true. 

Hast. And Hastings, as he favours Edward's cause 

K. Edw. It shall suffice ; come then, let' s march 

away. [Exeunt omnes. 

a Special, in the quarto of 1595 ; omitted in that of 1G19. 
b So in the quarto of 1G19; in that of 1595— 

" You, of all the rest, are near allied." 



Act IV.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[SfENtS II. — VI. 



(SCENE II.) 
Eider Warwick and Oxford, with Soldiers. 

War. Trust me, my lords, all hitherto goes well ; 
The common people by numbers swarm to us. 
But sec, where Somerset and Clarence come ; 
Speak suddenly, my lords; are we all friends? 

Cla. Fear not that, my lord. 

War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto 
Warwick, 
And welcome, Somerset: I hold it cowardice 
To rest mistrustful, where a noble heart 
Hath pawn'd an open baud in sign of love ; 
Else might I think 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 rest*, but in night's coverture, 
Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, 
His soldiers lurking in the town about, 
And but attended by a simple guard, 
We may surprise and take him at our pleasure ? 
Our scouts have found the adventure very e:isy. 
Then cry king Henry with resolved minds, 
And break we presently into his tent. 

Cla. Why, then let 's on our way in silent sort : 
For Warwick and his friends, God, and St. George ! 

War. This is his tent, and see where his guard 
doth stand : 
Courage, my soldiers, now or never ; 
But follow me now, and Edward shall be ours. 

All. A Warwick, a Warwick ! 

(SCENE III.) 
Alarms, and Gloster and Hasting? /y. 

Oxf. Who goes there ? 

War. Richard and Hastings : let them go, 
here 's the duke. 

K. Edw. The duke ! why, Warwick, when we 
parted last 
Thou call'dst me king. 

War. Ay, but the case is alter'd now. 
When you disgrae'd me in my embassage, 
Then I disgraced you from beiug king. 
And now am come to create you duke of York. 
Alas ! how should you govern any kingdom, 
That know not how to use ambassadors ; 
Nor how to use your brothers brotherly ; 
Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies ? 

K. Edw. Well, Warwick, let fortune do her wor*>t, 
Edward in mind will bear himself a king. 

War. Then, for his mind, be Edward England's 
king; 
But Henry now shall wear the English crown. 
Go, convey him to our brother, archbishop of Yoi k ; 
And when I have fought with Pembroke and his 

followers, 
I '11 come and tell thee what the lady Bona says ; 
And so for a while farewell, good duke of York. 
[Exeunt some with King Edward. 

Cla. What follows now ? all hitherto goes well : 
But we must despatch some letters into France, 
To tell the queen of our happy fortune, 
And bid her come with speed to join with us. 

Weir. Ay, that 's the first thing that we have to do; 
And free king Henry from imprisonment, 
And see him seated in his regal throne. [cares, 
Come, let .'.a haste away, and, having pass'd these 
I '11 post tc York, and see how Edward fares. 

[Exeunt omnes. 

Q2 



(SCENE IV. a ) 

Enter Gloster, Hastings, and Sir William 

Stanley. 

Glo. Lord Hastings, and sir William Stanley, 
Know that the cause I sent for you is this: 
I look my brother, with a slender train, 
Should come a hunting in this forest here. 
The bishop of York befriends him much, 
And lets him use his pleasure in the chase. 
Now I have privily sent him word, 
How I am come with you to rescue him : 
And see where the huntsman and he doth come 

Enter Edward euid a Huntsman. 

Hunt. This way, my lord, the deer is gone. 

K. Eelw. No, this way, huntsman ; [the rest,. 
See where the keepers stand. Now, brother, and 
What, are you provided to depart ? 

Glo. Ay, ay, the horse stands at the park corner ; 
Come, to Lynn, and so take shipping into Flanders. 

K. Eelw, Come, then. 
Hastings and Stanley, I will requite your loves. 
Bishop, farewell : shield thee from Warwick's frown 
And pray that I may repossess the crown. 
Now, huntsman, what will you do ? 

Hunt. Marry, my lord, I think I had as good go 
with you as tarry here to be hanged. 

A". Edw. Come then, let 's away with speed. 

[Exeunt omnes. 

(SCENE V. b ) 

Enter the Queen and the Lord Rivers. 

Riv. Tell me, good madam, 
Why is your grace so passionate of Lite ? 

Queen. W hy, brother Rivers, hear ye not t he m ws 
Of that success king Edward had of late ? 

Riv. What ! loss of some pitch'd battle against 

Warwick ? 

Tush! fearnot, fair queen, but cast those cares aside. 

King Edward's noble mind his honours doth display; 

And Warwick may lose, though then he got the day. 

Queen. If that were all, my griefs were at an end ; 
But greater troubles will I fear befall. 

Riv. What, is he taken prisoner by the foe, 
To the danger of his royal person, then ? 

Queen. Ay, there's my grief; king Edward i.s 
surpris'd, 
And led away as prisoner unto York. 

Riv. The news is passing strange, I must confess ; 
Yet comfort yourself, for Edward hath more friends: 
Then Lancaster at this time must perceive 
That some will set him in his throne again. 

Queen. God grant they may ; but, gentle bro- 
ther, come, 
And let me lean upon thine arm aw bile, 
Until I come unto the sanctuary, 
There to preserve the fruit within my womb, 
King Edward's seed, true heir to England's crown. 

[Exeunt. 

(SCENE VI. e ) 

Enter Edward, and Richard, and Hastings, with 
a troop of Hollanders. 

K. Edw. Thus far from Belgia have we pass' J 
the seas, 

a This and the next scene are transposed in the amended 
play. This scene corresponds with Scene 5 of ' Henry VI. 
Part III.' 

l> This scene corresponds with Scene 4 cf ' Henry VI., 
Part III.' 

c Tr.i> scene corresponds with Scene 7 of 'Henry VI., 
Part III ' 



Act IV.] 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[SCEKE VII 



And march'd from Raunspur haven unto York : 
But soft, the gates are shut ; I like not this. 
Rich. Sound up the drum, and call them to the 
walls. 

Enter the Lord Mayor of York, upon the icalls. 

Mayor. My lords, we had notice of your coming. 
And that 's the cause we stand upon our guard, 
And shut the gates for to preserve the town. 
Henry now is king, and we are sworn to him. 
K. Edw. Why, my lord mayor, if Henry be 
your king, 
Edward I am sure at least is duke of York. 

Mayor. Truth, my lord, we know you for no less. 
K. Edw. I crave nothing but my dukedom. 
Rich. But when the fox hath gotten in his head, 
He'll quickly make the body follow after. 
Hast. Why, my lord mayor, what stand you 
upon points ? 
Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends. 
Mayor. Say you so ? then I '11 open them pre- 
sently. [Exit Mayor. 
Rich. By my faith, a wise stout captain, and 
soon persuaded. 

The Mayor opens the door, and brings the keys in 
his hand. 

K. Edw. So, my lord mayor, these gates must 
not be shut, 
But in the time of war ; give me the keys: 
What, fear not, man, for Edward will defend 
The town and you, despite of all your foes. 

Enter Sir John Montgomery, with drum and 

Soldiers. 

How now, Richard, who is this ? 

Rich. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery, 
A trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd. 

K. Edw. Welcome, Sir John. Wherefore come 
you in arms ) [storms, 

Sir John. To help king Edward in this time of 
As every loyal subject ought to do. 

K. Edw Thanks, brave Montgomery ; but I 
only claim 
My dukedom, till it please God to send the rest. 

Sir John. Then fare you well. Drum, strike 
up, and let us march away ; 
I came to serve a king, and not a duke. 

K.Edw. Nay, stay, sir John, and let us first debate 
With what security we may do this thing. 

Sir John. What stand you on debating ! To be 
brief, 
Except you presently proclaim yourself 
Our king, I'll hence again, and keep them b.ak 
That come to succour you ; why should we light, 
When you pretend no title ? 

Rich. Fie, brother, fie ! a stand you upon terms ? 
Resolve yourself, and let us claim the crown. 

K. Edw. 1 am resolv'd once more to claim the 
crown, 
And win it too, or else to lose my life. 

Sir John. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh 
like b himself, 
And now will I be Edward's champion. 
Sound trumpets, for Edward shall be proclaim'd. 

Edward the fourth, by the grace of God, king of 
England and France, and lord of Ireland : 
And whosoe'er gainsays king Edward's right, 
By this I challenge him to single fight. 

* Tlie quarto of 1595 repeats fie. 

b Like is omitted in the quarto of 1GI9 

■JJS 



Long live Edward the fourth ! 

All. Long live Edward the fourth! 

K. Edw. We thank you all. Lord mayor, lead 
on the way. 
For this night we '11 harbour here in York, 
And then as early as the morning sun 
Lifts up his beams above this horizon, 
We '11 march to London, to meet with Warwick, 
And pull false Henry from the regal throne. 

[Exeunt omncs. 

(SCENE VII. a ) 

Enter Warwick and Clarence with the crown, 
and then King Henry, Oxford, Somerset, ar.d 
the young Earl of Richmond. 

King. Thus from the prison to this princely seat, 
By God's great mercies am I brought again. 
Clarence and Warwick, do you keep the crown, 
And govern and protect my realm in peace, 
And I will spend the remnant of my days 
To sin's rebuke, and my Creator's praise. 

War. What answers Clarence to his sovereign's 
will ? 

Cla. Clarence agrees to what king Henry likes. 

King. My lord of Somerset, what pretty boy 
Is that you seem to be so careful of? 

Som. If it please your grace, it is young Henry, 
Earl of Richmond. 

King. Henry of Richmond, 
Come hither, pretty lad. If heav'nly powers 
Do aim aright to my divining thoughts, 
Thou, pretty boy, shalt prove this country's bhss. 
Thy head is made to wear a princely crown ; 
Thy looks are all replete with majesty ; 
Make much of him, my lords, for this is he 
Shall help you more than you are hurt by me. 

Enter One with a letter to Warwick. 

War. What counsel, lords ? Edward from Belgia, 
With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders, 
Is pass'd in safety through the narrow seas, 
And with his troops doth march amain towards 

London, 
And many giddy-headed b people follow him. 

Oxf. 'T is best to look to this betimes, 
For if this fire do kindle any further, 
It will be hard for us to quench it out. 

War. InWarwickshirelhave true-hearted friends, 
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war ; 
Them will I muster up ; and thou, son Clarence, 
Shalt in Essex, Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, 
Stir up the knights and gentlemen to come with 

thee. 
And thou, brother Montague, in Leicestershire, 
Buckingham, and Northamptonshire, shalt find 
Men well inclin'd to do what thou command'st ; 
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd, 
Shalt in thy countries muster up thy friends. 
My sovereign, with his loving citizens, 
Shall rest in London till we come to him. 
Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply. 
Farewell, my sovereign. 

King. Farewell, my Hector, my Troy's true hope. 

War. Farewell, sweet lords; let's meet at Co ventjy. 

All. Agreed. [Exeunt omncs. 



» Tlie first part ot this scene, till the Messenger enters, 
corresponds with Scene (i of ' Henry VI., Part III.' The 
second part corresponds with Scene S of that amended play. 

b Giddy-headed, in the quarto of 1619; in the edition of 

159,5, giddy. 



act v.] THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER 

Enter Edw.\rd and his train. 



[Scenes I., II. 



K. Edw. Seize on the shame-fae'd Henry, 
And once again convey him to the Tower. 



Away with him, I will not hear him speak. 

And now towards Coventry let us bend our course, 

To meet with Warwick and nis confederates. 

[Exeunt omncs 



(ACT V.) 



(SCENE I.) 
Enter Warwick, on the walls. 

War. Where is the post that carne from valiant 
Oxford ? 
How far hence is thy lord, my honest fellow ? 

Oxf. Post. By this at Daiutry, marching hither- 
ward. 

War. Where is our brother Montague ? 
Where is the post tint came from Montague ? 

Post. I left him at Duusmore with his troops. 

War. Say, Somerville, a where is my loving son ? 
And by thy guess, how far is Clarence hence ? 

Som. At Southam, my lord, I left him with his 
And do expect him two hours hence. [force, 

War. Then Oxford is at hand ; I hear his drum. 

Enter Edward and Ms power. 

Glo. See, brother, where the surly Warwick 
mans the wall. 

War. 0, unbid spite ! is sportful Edward come ? 
Where slept our scouts, or how are they sedue'd, 
That we could have no news of their repair ? 

K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou be sorry for 
thy faults. 
And call Edward king ? and he will pardon thee. 

War. Nay, rather wilt thou draw thy forces back, 
Confess who set thee up and pull'd thee down, 
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent ? 
And thou shalt still remain the duke of York. 

Glo. I had thought at least he would have said 
the king. 
Or did he make the jest against his will ? 

War. 'T was Warwick gave the kingdom to thy 
brother. 

K. Edw. Why, then 'tis mine, if but by War- 
wick's gift, [weight, 

War. Ay, but thou art no Atlas for so great a 
And, weakling, Warwick takes his gifc again ; 
Henry is my king, Warwick his subject, 

K.Edw. 1 prithee, gallant Warwick, tell me this, — 
What is the body when the head is off? 

Glo. Alas ! that Warwick had no more foresight, 
But whilst he sought to steal the single ten, 
The king was finely linger' d from the deck. 
Vmi left poor Henry in the bishop's palace, 
And ten to one you '11 meet him in the Tower. 

K. Edw. 'T is even so, and yet you are old 
Warwick still. [comes. 

War. 0, cheerful colours ! see where Oxford 

Enter Oxford, withdrum and Soldiers, and all cry, — 

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster ! [Exit. 

K. Edw. The gates are open; see, they enter 

in. [streets. 

Let us follow them, and bid them battle in the 

Glo. No, so some other might set upon our 

backs ; 

We '11 stay till all be enter' d, and then follow them. 

Enter Somerset, with drum and Soldiers. 
Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster ! [Exit. 

a Somerville. In the original copies, Summcrficld. 



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 my sword hold. 

Enter Montague, with drum and Soldiers. 

Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster! \E.< it. 
K. Edw. Traitorous Montague, thou and thy 
brother 
Shall dearly aby this rebellious act. 

Enter Clarence, with drum and Soldiers. 

War. And lo where George of Clarence sweeps 
along, 
Of power enough to bid his brother battle. 

Cla. Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster ! 

K. Edw. Et tu, Brute 1 wilt thou stab Caesar too ? 
A parley, sirrah, to George of Clai-ence. 

Sound a parley, and Richard and CLARENCE whis- 
per tor/ether, and then Cearence takes his red 
rose old of his hat, anel throws it at Warwick. 

War. Come, Clarence, come, thou wilt if War- 
wick call. [means ? 

Cla. Father of Warwick, know you what this 
I throw mine infamy at thee; 
I will not ruinate my fathei-'s house, 
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, 
And set up Lancaster. Thinkest thou 
That Clarence is so harsh, unnatural. 
To lift his sword against his brother's life ? 
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee ; 
And to my brothers turn my blushing cheeks. 
Pardon me, Edward, for I have done amiss ; 
And, Richard, do not frown upon me ; 
For henceforth I will prove no more unconstant. 

K. Edw. Welcome, Clarence, and ten times 
more welcome, 
Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate. 

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is brother!*-. 

War. 0, passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust ! 

K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou leave the 
town and fight ? 
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears ? 

War. Why, I am not coop'd up here for defence : 
I will away to Barnet presently, 
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st. 

K.Edw. Yes, Warwick, he dares, and leads the way: 
Lords, to the field ; saint George and victory \ 

[Exeunt omncs. 

(SCENE II.) 

Alarms, and then enter Warwick wounded. 

War. Ah, who is nigh ? Come to me, friend or ^<o, 
And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick ? 
Why ask I 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 ramping a lion slept, 

a Rampintj, in the edition of 1595; rampant, in that of 1010 

22 i 



Act V.J 



SECOND PART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scenes III '.V 



Whose top branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree. 
The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood, 
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; 
For who liv'd king but I could dig his grave ? 
And who durst smile when Warwick bent his brow? 
Lo, now my glcry smear'd in dust and blood; 
My parks, mj a walks, my mauors that I had, 
Even now forsake me, and of all my lands 
Is nothing left me but my body's length. 

Enter Oxford and Somerset. 

Oxf. Ah, Warwick, Warwick ! cheer up thyself 
and live, 
For yet there's hope enough to win the clay. 
Our wavlikequeen with troops is come from France, 
And at Southampton landed all her train, 
And mightst thou live, then would we never fly. 

War. Why, then I would not fly; nor have I now, 
But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; 
For many wounds receiv'd, and many more repaid, 
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, 
And, spite of spites, needs must I yield to death. 

Som. Thy brother Montague hath breath' d his last. 
And at the pangs of death I heard him cry 
And say, " Commend me to my valiant brother ;" 
And more he would have spoke, and more he said 
Which sounded like a clamour in a vault, 
That could not be distingutsh'd for the sound ; 
And so the valiant Montague gave up the ghost. 

War. What is pomp, rul e,reign , but earth an d dust ? 

And live we how we can, yet die we must. 

Sweet rest his soul ! fly, lords, and save yourselves, 

For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in 

heaven. [He dies. 

Oxf. Come, noble Somerset, let 's take our horse, 
And cause retreat be sounded through the camp, 
That all our friends that yet remain alive 
May be forewarn'd, and save themselves by flight. 
That done, with them we'll post unto the queen, 
And once more try our fortune in the field. 

[Exeunt. 

(SCENE III.) 

Enter Edward, Clarence, and Gloster, with 
Soldiers. 

K. Echo. Thus still our fortune gives us victory, 
And girts our temples with triumphant joys. 
The big-bon'd traitor, Warwick, hath breath'd his 

last, 
And Heaven this day hatli smil'd upon us all. 
But in this clear and bughtsome day, 
I see a black, suspicious cloud appear, 
That will encounter with our glorious sun, 
Before he gain his easeful western beams ; 
I mean, those powers which the queen hath got in 

France 
Are landed, and meau once more to menace us. 

Glo. Oxford and Somerset have fled to her ; 
And 'tis likely, if she have time to breathe, 
Her faction will be full as strong as ours. 

K. Echv. We are advertis'd by our loving friends, 
That they do hold their course towards Tewksbury. 
Thither will we, for willingness rids way: 
And in every county as we pass along 
Our strengths shall be augmented. 
Come, let's go, for if we slack this fair bright 

summer's day, 
Sharp winter's showers will mar our hope for hay. 

[Exeunt omncs. 

a My, in the edition of 1595 ; and. in that of 1619 
230 



(SCENE IV.) 

Enter the Queen, Prince Edward, Oxford, and 
Somerset, vrith drum and Soldiers. 

Queen. Welcome to England, my loving fiiends 
of France, 
And welcome Somerset and Oxford too. 
Once more have we spread our sails abroad, 
And though our tackling be almost consuui'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 stern, 
To bear us through that dangerous gulf 
That heretofore hath swallow'd up our friends. 

Prince. And if there be (as God forbid there 
should) 
Amongst us a timorous or fearful man, 
Let him depart before the battles join, 
Lest he in time of need entice another, 
And so withdraw the soldiers' hearts from us. 
I will not stand aloof and bid you fight, 
But 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 witness of my thoughts. 

Oxf. Women and children of so high resolve, 
And warriors faint ! why, 't were perpetual shame. 
Oh, brave young prince, thy noble grandfather 
Doth live agaiu in thee: long rnayst thou live 
To bear his image, and to renew his glories ! 

Som. And he that turns and flies when such do 
fight, 
Let him to bed, and like the owl by day 
Be hiss'd and wonder'd at if he arise. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. My lords, duke Edward with a mighty 
power 
Is marching hitherwards to fight with you. 

Oxf. I thought it was his policy to take us un- 
provided ; 
But here will we stand, and fight it to the death. 
Enter King Edward, Clarence, Gloster, Hast- 
ings, and Soldiers. 

K. Edw. See, brothers, yonder stands the 
thorny wood, 
Which, by God's assistance and your prowess, 
Shall with our swords ere night be clean cut down. 
Queen. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I 
should say 
My tears gainsay. For, as you see, I drink 
The water of mine eyes. Then no more but this ; 
Henry your king is prisoner in the Tower ; 
Las land, and all our friends, are quite distress'd ; 
And yonder stands the wolf that makes all this ; 
Then on God's name, lords, together cry, Saint 
George ! 
All. Saint George for Lancaster ! 

(SCENE V.) 

Alarms to the battle : York flies ; then the chamber 
be discharged. Then enter the King, Clarence. 
Gloster, and the rest, making a great shout, and 
cry, " For York ! For York !" and then the 
Queen, Prince, Oxford, and Somerset arc 
taken ; and then sound and enter all ajCiin. 

K. Echo. Lo ! here a period of tumultuous broils. 
Away with Oxford to Hammes castle straight: 



An V.] 



THE HOUSES OF YORK AND LANCASTER. 



[Scene VI. 



For Somerset, off with his guilty head. 
Away ! I will not hear them speak. 

O.rf. For my part, I '11 not trouble thee with 

words. [Exit Oxford. 

Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my 

death. [Exit Somerset. 

K. Edw. Now, Edward, what satisfaction canst 

thou make 

For stirring up my subjects to rebellion ? 

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 selfsame words to thee, 
Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. 
Queen. Oh, that thy father had been so resolv'd! 
Glo. That you might still have kept your petti- 
coat, 
And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster. 

Prince. Let iEsop fable in a winter's night ; 
His currish riddles sort not with this place. 

Glo. By Heaven, brat, I '11 plague you for that 

word ! 
Queen. 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 tame your 

tongue. 
Cla. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. 
Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful. 
Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, 
And thou misshapen Dick, I tell you all 
I am your better, traitors as you be. 
K. Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this railer 
here. [Stubs Mm. 

Queen. Oh, kill mc too ! 
Glo. Marry, and shall. 
K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have clone 

too much already. 
Glo. Why should she live to fill the world with 

words ? 
K. Edw. What, doth she swoon? Make means 

for her recovery. 
Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother ; 
I must to London on a serious matter ; 
Ere you come there you shall hear more news. 
Cla About what, prithee tell me ] 
Glo. The Tower, man, the Tower : I '11 root them 
out. [Exit. 

Queen. Ah, Ned, speak to thy mother, boy : 
Ah, thou canst not speak. 
Traitors, tyrants, bloody homicides, 
They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all, 
For he was a man ; this, in respect, a child ; 
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. 
What's worse than tyrant that I may not name ? 
You have no children, devils ; if you had, 
The thought of them would then have stopp'd 

your rage: 
But if you ever hope to have a sou, 
Look in his youth to have him so cut off, 
As, traitors, you have done this sweet young prince. 
K. Edw. A way, and bear her hence. 
Queen. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me 
here ; 
Here sheathe thy sword; I'll pardon thee my death. 
Wilt thou not '! Then, Clarence, do thou do it. 
Cla. By heaven, I would not do thee so much 
ease. 



Queen. Good Clarence, do ; sweet Clarence, kill 

me to. 
Cla. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not 

do it ? 
Queen. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself. 
'T was sin before, but now 't is charity. 
Where's the devil's butcher, hard-favour'd 

Richard ? 
Richard, where art thou ? 
He is not here: Murther is his alms-deed ; 
Petitioners for blood he '11 ne'er put back. 

K.Edw. Away, I say, and take her hence perforce. 
Queen. So come to you and yours, as to this 
prince. [Exit.. 

K. Edw. Clarence, whither is Gloster gone ? 
Cla. Marry, my lord, to London ; and, as I gues3, 
To make a bloody supper in the Tower. 

K.Edw. He is sudden, if a thing come in his head. 
Well, discharge the common soldiers with pay and 

thanks ; 
And now let's toward London, 
To see our gentle queen how she cloth fare ; 
For by this I hope she hath a son for us. 

[Exeunt omncs. 

(SCENE VI.) 
Enter Gloster to King Henry in the Tower. 

Glo. Good day, my lord ! What, at your book 
so hard ? 

King. Ay, my good lord. Lord, I should say 
rather ; 
'T is sin to flatter, good was little better ; 
Good Gloster, and good devil, were all alike. 
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act! 

Glo. Suspicion always haunts a gnilty mind. 

King. The bird once lim'd doth fear the fatal 
bush ; 
And I, the hapless male to one poor bird, 
Have now the fatal object in mine eye, 
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and 
kill'd. 

Glo. 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. 

King. I, Daedalus ; my poor son, Icarus ; 
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course ; 
Thy brother Edward the sun that sear'd his wings; 
And thou the euviest gulf that swallow'd him. 
Oh, better can my breast abide thy dagger's point, 
Than can mine ears that tragic history. 

Glo. Why, dost thou think I am an executioner .- 

King. A persecutor, I am sure thou art ; 
And if murthering innocents be executions, 
Then I know thou art an executioner. 

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption. 

King. 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 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 thi ir 

fathers, 
Shall curse the time that ever thou wert born. 
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; 

231 



Act V.] 



SECOND TART OF THE CONTENTION OF 



[Scene VII. 



Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, 
And yet brought forth less than a mother's 

hope ; 
To wit, an undigcst created 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 that I have heard, 

Thou cam'st into the world 

Glo. Die, projihet, in thy speech ; I '11 hear no 
more : [Stubs him. 

For this amongst the rest was I ordain'd. 

King. Ay, and for much more slaughter after 
this. 

0, God ! forgive nry sins, and pardon thee. 

[He dies. 
Glo. What ! will the aspiring blood of Lan- 
caster 
Sink into the ground ? I had thought it would 

have mounted. 
See how my sword weej:>s for the poor king's 

death. 
Now r may such purple tears be always shed 
Fur such as seek the downfal of our house. 
*f any spark of life remain in thee, a 

[Stabs liim again. 
Down, down to hell, and say I sent thee thither: 

1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear. 
Indeed, 't was true that Henry told me of, 
F'or 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 wept, and the midwife cried, b 
" 0, 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. 
Then, siuce Heaven hath made my body so, 
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. 
1 had no father, I am like no father ; 
I have no brothers, I am like no brothers ; 
.And this word love, which greybeards term 

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 I will buzz abroad such prophecies, 
Under pretence of outward seeming ill, 
As Edward shall be fearful of his life, 
And then, to purge his fear, I '11 be thy death. 
King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone ; 
And, Clarence, thou art next must follow them: 
So by one and one despatching all the rest,' 1 
Counting myself but bad, till I be best. 
I '11 drag thy body in another room, 
And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [Exit. 

a This line is not in the edition of 1619, but is found in 
the earlier quartos of 1595 and 1C00. 
b So tlie edition of 1595; that of 1619— 

"The women weeping, and the midwife crifiny. 
c This line is not found in the edition of 1595. 
<1 The lines Bland thus in the edition of 1595 : — 
" Henry and his son are gone, thou Clarence next, 
And by one and one I will despatch the rust. ' 



(SCENE VII.) 

Enter King Edward, Queen Elizabeth, and a 
Nurse with the young Trince, and Clakence, 
Gloster, Hastings, and others. 

K, Edw. Once more we sit in England's royal * 
throne, 
Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies. 
What valiant foemeu, like to autumn's corn, 
Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pridd ! 
Three 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 rough bears, Warwick and 

Montague, 
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 ; 
March'd all afoot in summer's scalding heat, 
That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace; 
And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. 

Glo. 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. 
K. Edw. Clarence and Gloster, love my lovely 
queen, 
And kiss your princely nephew, brothers, both. b 
Cla. The duty that I owe unto your majesty, 
I seal upon the roseate lips of this sweet babe. 
Queen. Thanks, noble Clarence ; worthy brother, 

thanks. 
Glo. And that I love the fruit from whence 
thou sprang'st, 
Witness the loving kiss I give the child. 
To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master, 
And so he cried All hail, and meant all harm. 

K. Edw. Now am I seated as my soul delights, 
Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves c 
Cla. What will your grace have done with 
Margaret 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. Edw. Away with her, and waft her hence to 
France. 
j\nd now what rests, but that we spend the time 
With stately triumphs and mirthful comic shows, 
Such as befits the pleasures of the court ? 
Sound drums and trumpets ! farewell to sour 

annoy ! 
For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. 

[Exeunt omncs. 

a Royal, in the edition of 1595; in that of 1619, royal U 
omittsd. 

l> So the edition of 1595. That of 1619 has— 
" Brothers of Clarence and of Gloster, 
Pray love my lovely queen, 
And kiss your princely nephew, both." 
« This line, of the edition of 1595, is not found in that of 
1619. 



232 



II |] ill,; 





[Crosby House 1 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 



This History was originally published in 1597, under the following title : — ' The Tragedy of King 
Richard the Third. Containing his treacherous Plots against his brother Clarence : the pittiefu] 
Murther of his innocent Nephewes : his tyrannical Usurpation : with the whole Course of his detested 
Life and most deserved Death. As it hath been lately acted by the Right Honourable the Lord 
Chamberlaine his servants. Printed by Valentine Sims, for William Wise, 1597.' It is thus entered 
in the Stationers' Register :— " Oct. 20, 1597. Andrew Wise. The Tragedie of Kinge Richard the 
Third, with the Death of the Duke of Clarence." The same Andrew Wise enters the Richard II. on 
the previous 29th August. This play was reprinted four times in quarto previous to its appearance in 
the folio of 1623 ; in which edition it bears the following title : — ' The Tragedy of Richard the Third : 
with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosvvorth Field.' The running head of th? 
play, in the folio, is ' The Life and Death of Richard the Third.' 

The question of the date when the Richard III. was written will be discussed in our ' Essay on the 
Three Parts of Henry the Sixth and Richard the Third;' and the very curious elder piny 'The True 

235 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE 



Tragedie of Richard the Third,' reprinted by Boswell in 1821, is there noticed. We shall at present 
confine ourselves to some observations on the state of the text. 

The mode in which the modem text of the Richard III. has been constructed is thus stated by 
Malone : — " In this play the variations between the origiual copy in quarto, and the folio, are more 
numerous than, I believe, in any other of our author's pieces. The alterations, it is highly probable, 
were made, not by Shakspeare, but by the plavers, many of them being very injudicious." This 
would appear a sufficient reason for the modern editors rejecting the text of the folio altogether. Lut 
they have not followed this ccurse, which would at least have the merit of consistency. They have 
adopted these alterations, made " by the players," in by far the greater number of cases. For 
example : there are about one hundred and twenty new lines introduced in the folio — " by the 
players," of course; in one case there is a single passage amounting to fifty-five lines. These new 
lines are all adopted ; and they are most important lines. In a great number of minute instances the 
text of the folio is preferred by them; and Steevens says, unhesitatingly, that it is the best text. On 
the other hand, there is a remarkable passage, most thoroughly Shaksperian (Act iv., Scene n.), which 
is not found in the folio ; and the modern text very properly adopts it. This is the only instance in 
which, to our minds, any advantage has resulted from the collation of the quartos ; aud this passage 
was restored by Pope. We will give one or two examples of the mode in which the text of the folio 
has been preferred by the modern editors to that of the quartos, in addition to their adoption of all 
the new lines : — 



Folio of 1G23. 
And the queen's sons and brothers, haught and proud. 

A dream of what thou wast ; a garish flag, 
To be the aim of every dangerous shot ; 
A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble. 

Thy schcol-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furious; 
Thy prime of manhood, d .ring, bold, and venturous; 
Thy age conlirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody. 



Quarto of 15!)7. 
And the queen's kindred, haughty and proud. 

A drram cf what thou wort, a breath, a bubble, 

A sign of dignity, a garish flap, 

To be the aim of every dangerous shot. 

Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furoiis; 
Thy age conlirm'd, proud, subll", bloody, treacherou-. 



Taking, then, the authority of the folio in part, and rejecting it in part, the modern editors have 
proceeded to manufacture a text upon the principle which has been thus stated by Malone : " The text 
has been formed out of the two copies, the folio and the early quarto ; from which the preceding 
editors have in every scene selected such readings as appeared to them fit to be adopted. To 
enumerate every variation between the copies would encumber the page, with little use." Nothing, 
we think, can be more unsatisfactory than this mode of proceeding ; and Malone gets out of the 
difficulty by depreciating the folio at every turn, whilst he in reality adopts all its more important 
readings. He says, " several alterations were made in this play, evidently unauthorized by Shak- 
speare." These are the alterations which, no doubt, he passes over sub sileniio. We adopt, once for 
all, the text of the folio, with the exception of three cr four passages, where we follow the quarto, and 
state our reasons for this course. In our foot-notes we have not, adopting the text of the folio, 
in Heated all the variations in the quartos; but we have indicated every passage in which our text is 
a variation from the received text, and this for the purpose that, when the critical student encounters 
i reading different from that to which he is accustomed, he may compare and judge for himself. 




[Kiehard III.] 



Costume. 



The Monk of Croyland informs us that "the new fashion" Edward IV. "chose for his last state 
dresses was to have very full hanging sleeves, like a monk's, lined with most sumptuous furs, and 
so rolled over his shoulders as to give his tall person an air of peculiar grandeur." This fashion 
was continued during the remainder of the century, and was not altogether abandoned in the reign 
of Henry YIIL By a sumptuary law enacted in the last year of Edward's reign, we find also 
that purple cloth of gold and silk of a purple colour were confined to the use of the royal family, 
while none under the degree of a duke might wear cloth of gold of tissue. Inferior noblemen were 
restricted to plain cloth of gold, knights to velvet, esquires to satin, &c. Short gowns and upper- 
dresses of various descriptions were worn at this time, with long sleeves, having an opening in front, 
through which the arm came, leaving the outer sleeve to hang as an ornament from the shoulder. 
This fashion may be seen in the engraving at page 152 of this volume. Feathers became more 
frequent towards the close of this reign, one or more being worn in the cap, behind, and jewelled up 
the stem. The hair was worn in large square masses on each side of tbe head, and low on the fore- 
head. 

There are two portraits of Richard III., painted on board, in the meeting-room of the Society of 
Antiquaries at Somerset House. Both were bequeathed to the Society by the late Mr. Kerrich. 
The first has been lithographed for the fifth volume of the ' Paston Letters.' It represents the 
king attired in a robe of cloth of gold over a close dress of scarlet, a black cap with a pearl orna- 
ment. His hair brown and long. His right hand is engaged in placing a ring upon, or drawing it 
off, the third finger of the left hand. This portrait is evidently by the same painter with that of 
Edward IV., described at page 153. In the other, Richard is portrayed with a short sword or 
dagger in his hand, dressed in a black robe, with sleeves of black and crimson, an under-dress of 
cloth of gold, and a small black cap. In the absence of any well-authenticated portrait or effigy of 
Richard these paintings are certainly very interesting, as there can be little doubt that they were 
executed during or immediately subsequent to his reign, and may therefore be presumed to convey 
a general idea of the style of person and dress, if not an absolute likeness. In both he is represented 
as a hard-featured man, with rather a forbidding countenance, and certainly not bearing out the 
flattering description of the old Countess of Desmond, who had danced with him when Duke of 

237 



INTRODUCTORY NOTICE. 

Gloster, and is stated to have declared that he was the handsomest man in tbe room except his 
brother King Edward IV.* Sir Thomas More, however, says " his face was hard-favoured or warly," 
which latter word Grafton renders "warlike;" and unless these pictures were painted purposely 
with the view of creating or confirming a popular prejudice, they may be considered as fully 
warranting the historian's description. + 

Richard and the Duke of Buckingham were both remarkable for their love of finery. A list of 
the king's dresses exists amongst the Harleian MSS. (No. 433, p. 126), which was sent by Richard 
himself from York to the keeper of his wardrobe in London, August 31st, 1483 ; and in the 'Anti- 
quarian Repertory ' is published a wardrobe account of the first year of his reign, in which there is a 
detailed description of the magnificent dresses worn by the king, queen, and court, at the coronation. 
On the day preceding that gorgeous ceremony the Duke of Buckingham, in the royal progress 
through the city, rode a courser caparisoned with blue velvet, embroidered with axles or wheels in 
gold (a badge of the Stafford family), the trappings being held out by pages for the better display 
of them. J 

In the Warwick Roll is a figure of Richard in armour, and surrounded by the crests of France» 
England, Ireland, Gascony, and Wales ; the latter being a greyhound in a cradle — a curious allusion 
to the well-known legend of 'Beth-Gellert.' In the same most interesting document is a drawing 
of Richard's queen, Anne, which presents us with the peculiar head-dress characterising this period, 
namely, a cap or caul of gold embroidery, covered by a veil of some very transparent material, 
stiffened out in the form of wings. 

Of Henry Earl of Richmond we know no representation previous to his ascending the throne. 

Two portraits of John, the firat Howard Duke of Norfolk, and one of his son the Earl of Surrey, 
are given in the privately printed work, ' Memorials of the Howard Family,' a copy of which is in 
tbe library of the Society of Antiquaries. 

* Walpole's Hist. Doubts, p. 102. 

t It is said by Polydore Virgil that Richard had a trick of fidgeting with his dagger, continually half drawing and 
sheathing it again, while in conversation. One might imagine the painter of the second picture had intended to represent 
this peculiarity. The opinion of Mr. Sharon Turner also, that this hal it was hut "the mark of a restless impatience of 
spirit which would not let even the fingers be quiet," is singularly supported by ihe first portrait, in which Richard appears 
to be playing in the same manner with his ring by drawing it off and on his finger. 

t Grafton's Chron. 





<.1ohn Howard, first Duke of Norfolk.] 



[lliomas Howard, Karl of Surrey. J 



KING RICHARD III. 

Sir Thos. Vaughau lies buried in Westminster Abbey, and the brass plate on his tomb presents us 
>v\th a good specimen of the armour of this period, with its large pauldrons, elbo\v-plate3, and 
genouilleres. A portrait of Lord Stanley (as Earl of Derby) is to be found in 'Lodge's Series of 
Illustrious Personages.' 




[Sir Thomas Vaughan.] 

The livery colours of the Tudor family were white and green. One of the standards of Henry 
Earl of Richmond at Bosworth field was a red dragon upon white and green sarcenet. Another 
was a dun cow upon "yellow tarterne." hichard's armorial supporters were white boars. A 
white boar was also his favourite badge. In his letter from York he orders " four standards of 
sarcr.net aud thirteen gonfanons of fustian, with boars." Richard's favourite badge of cognizance 
was worn by the higher order of his partisans appendant to a collar of roses and suns. Such a 
collar decorates the monumental figure of Ralph, second Earl of Westmoreland, in the church of 
Braueepeth, in the county of Durham ; and by the favour of Sir Henry Ellis we copy this from an 
original drawing by tbe late Mr. Charles Stothard. This is probably the only contemporary 
representation of Richard's collar and device now remaining. 



v^ 



(<JC 








■j>ifcy ■ . 






I ll 




[Scene II. ' Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword.'] 



ACT I. 



SCENE I.— London. A Street. 

Enter Gloster. 

Glo. Now is the winter of our discontent 
Made glorious summer by this sun of York ; a 
And all the clouds that low'r'd upon our house 
1 n the deep bosom of the ocean buried. 
Now are our brows bound with victorious 

wreaths ; 
Our bruised arms hung up for monuments ; 
Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings ; 
Our dreadful marches to delightful measures. 
Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled 

front ; 
And now, instead of mounting barbed h steeds, 
To fright the souls of fearful adversaries, 

a An allusion to the cognizance of Edward IV., which was 
adopted after the battle of Mortimer's Crosc : — 

" Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns 1 " 

h Barbed. Barbed and barded appear to have been in- 
differently applied to a caparisoned horse. In Hall we have, 
" About the time of prime came to the barriers of the lists 
the duke of Hertford, mounted on a white courser barbed 
with blue and green velvet." In Lord Berners' Froissart we 
read, "It was a great beauty to behold the banners and 
standards waving in the wind, and horses barded, and knights 
and squires richly armed." 

Histories. — Vol. II. R 



He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, 
To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. 
But I, that am not shap'd for sportive tricks, 
Nor made to court an amourous looking-glass ; — 
I, that am rudely stamp'd, and want love's ma- 
jesty 
To strut before a wauton ambling nymph; — 
I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, 
Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, 
Deform'd, unfmish'd, sent before my time 
Into this breathing world, scarce half made up, 
And that so lamely and unfashionable 
That dogs bark at me as I halt by them ; — 
Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, 
Have no delight to pass away the time, 
Unless to see a my shadow in the sun, 
And descant on mine own deformity. 
And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover 
To entertain these fair well-spoken days, b 
I am determined to prove a vdlain, 

a See, in the folio ; the quartos, spy. 

b Malone would read, "fair well-spoken dames." In Ben 
Jonson's ' Every Man out of his Humour,' we have the same 
epithet of oi<.'«-.s}>oAe« applied to days : "ignorant well-spoken 
days." 

241 



Act 1.1 



KING RICHARD III. 



[SlESE I. 



And hate the idle pleasures of these days. 
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous, 
By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, 
To set my brother Clarence and the king 
In deadly hate the one against the other : 
And, if king Edward be as true and just 
As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, 
This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up, 
About a prophecy, which says, that G 
Of Edward's heirs the murtherer shall be. 
Dive, thoughts, down to my soul ! here Clarence 
comes. 

Enter Clarence, guarded, and Brakenbuky. 

Brother, good day : What means this armed 

guard 
That waits upon your grace ° 



Clat 



His majesty, 



Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed 
This conduct to convey me to the Tower. 

Glo. Upon what cause ? 

Clar. Because my name is George. 

Glo. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of 
yours ; 
He should, for that, commit your godfathers:— 
O, belike, his majesty hath some intent 
That you should a be new christen'd in the 

Tower. 
But what 's the matter, Clarence ? may I know ? 

Clar. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I 
protest- 
As yet I do not : But, as I can learn, 
He hearkens after prophecies and dreams ; 
And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, 
And says, a wizard told him, that by G 
His issue disinherited should be ; 
And, for my name of George begins with G, 
It follows in his thought that I am he : 
These, as I learn, and such like toys as these, 
Have mov'd his highness to commit me now. 

Glo. Why, this it is when men are rul'd by 
women : 
'Tis not the king that sends you to the Tower; 
My lady Grey his wife, Clarence, 't is she 
That tempers h him to this extremity. 
Was it not she and that good man of worship 
Antony Woodville, her brother there, 
That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower, 
From whence this present day he is deliver'd ? 
We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe. 

Clar. By heaven, I think there is no man 
secure 



n Should, in the folio ; the quartos, shall. 
b Tempers. We print this line as in the quarto of 1397. 
In the folio we read, 

"That tempts him to his harth extremity." 
242 



But the queen's kindred, and night-walking 

heralds 
That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore. 
Heard you not what an humble suppliant 
Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery ? a 

Glo. Humbly complaining to her deity 
Got my lord chamberlain his. liberty. 
I '11 tell you what, — I think it is our way, 
If we will keep in favour with the king, 
To be her men and wear her livery : 
The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself, 
Since that our brother dubb'd them gentle- 
women, 
Are mighty gossips in our b monarchy. 

Bralc. I beseech your graces both to pardon 
me ; 
His majesty hath straitly given in charge 
That no man shall have private conference, 
Of what degree soever, with his brother. 

Glo. Even so ; an please your worship, Bra- 
kenbury, 
You may partake of anything we say : 
We speak no treason, man : — we say, the king 
Is wise and virtuous ; and his noble queen 
Well struck in years, fair, and not jealous : — 
We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, 
A cherry lip, a bonny eye, a passing pleasing 

tongue : 
And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks : 
How say you, sir ? can you deny all this ? 
Bralc. With this, my lord, my self have nought 

to do. 
Glo. Naught to do with mistress Shore ? I tell 
thee, fellow, 
He that doth naught with her, excepting one, 
AYere best to do it secretly, alone. 
Brak. What one, my lord ? 
Glo. Her husband, knave :— Would'st thou 

betray me ? 
Brak. I do beseech your grace to pardon me ; 
and, withal, 
Forbear your conference with the noble duke. 
Clar. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and 

will obey. 
Glo. We are the queen's abjects, and must 
obey. 
Brother, farewell : I will unto the king ; 
And whatsoe'er you will employ me in, — 
Were it to call king Edward's widow sister, 
I will perform it, to enfranchise you. 
Meantime, this deep disgrace in brotherhood 
Touches me deeper than you can imagine. 

a This line is the reading of the quartos. The fo'io has, 

" Lord Hastings was, for her delivery." 
h Our, in the folio; the quartos, this. 



Act I.] 



KING KICHAKD III. 



[Scene II. 



Clar. I know it pleasetli neither of us well. 
Glo. Well, your imprisonment shall not be 
long; 
I will deliver you or else lie a for you : 
Meantime, have patience. 

Clar. I must perforce ; farewell. 

[Exeunt Clarence, Bkakenbury, and 
Guard. 
Glo. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er 
return, 
Simple, plain Clarence ! I do love thee so, 
That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, 
If heaven will take the present at our hands. 
But who comes here ? the new-deliver'd Hastings. 

Enter Hastings. 

Hast. Good time of day unto my gracious 

lord ! 
Glo. As much unto my good lord chamber- 
lain! 
A Veil are you welcome to this open air. 
How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment ? 
Hast. With patience, noble lord, as prisoners 
must : 
But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks 
That were the cause of my imprisonment. 
Glo. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Cla- 
rence too ; 
For they that were your enemies are his, 
And have prevail' d as much on him as you. 
Hast. More pity that the eagle should be 
mew'd, 
While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. 
Glo. What news abroad ? 
Hast. No news so bad abroad as this at home ; 
The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, 
And his physicians fear hiin mightily. 

Glo. Now, by St. Paul, b this news is bad in- 
deed. 
0, he hath kept an evil diet long, 
And over-much consum'd his royal person ; 
'T is very grievous to be thought upon. 
Where is he ? in his bed r c 
Hast. He is. 

Glo. Go you before, and I will follow you. 

[Exit Hastings. 
He cannot live, I hope ; and must not die 
Till George be pack'd with posthorse up to 

heaven. 
I '11 in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, 
With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments : 

a Lie for you — be imprisoned in your stead. 
b So the quartos; the folio, Saint John. 
c So the folio; the quartos, 

«' What, is he in his bed ? " 

R2 



And, if I fail not in my deep intent, 

Clarence hath not another day to live : 

Which done, God take king Edward to his 

mercy, 
And leave the world for me to bustle in ! 
For then I '11 marry Warwick's youngest daugh- 
ter. 
What though I kill'd her husband and her father, 
The readiest way to make the wench amends 
Is to become her husband and her father : 
The which will I : not all so much for love 
As for another secret close intent, 
By marrying her, which I must reach unto. 
But yet I run before my horse to market : 
Clarence still breathes; Edward still lives and 

reigns ; 
When they are gone then must I count my 
gains. [Exit. 

SCENE II.— The same. Another Street. 

Enter the corpse of King Hexby the Sixth, 
borne in an open coffin, Gentlemen bearing 
halberds, to guard it; and Lady Anne as 
mourner. 

Anne. Set down, set down, your honourable 
load, — 
If honour may be shrouded in a hearse, — 
Whilst I a while obsequiously a lament 
The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster. 
Poor key-cold b figure of a holy king ! 
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster ! 
Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood I 
Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, 
To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, 
Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughter'd son, 
Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these 

wounds ! 
Lo, in these windows that let forth thy life, 
I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes : 
0, cursed be the hand that made these holes ! 
Cursed the heart that had the heart to do it ! 
Cursed the blood that let this blood from hence ! 
More direful hap betide that hated wretch, 
That makes us wretched by the death of thee, 
Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, c 



a Obsequiously — performing obsequies, 
b Key-cold. This epithet is common in the old writers. 
Shakspere himself has it in the Lucrece : 

" And then in key-cold Lucrece' bleeding stream 
He falls." 

But surely Steevens' explanation that the epithet is derived 
from the application of a cold key to stop bleeding is very 
forced. In Gurnall's 'Christiau in complete Armour,'— a 
popular work of the seventeenth century,— we have, " but 
for Christ, and obtaining an interest in him, O how key-cold 
are they." 
c So the quartos; the folio, " to wolves, to spiders, toads." 

243 



Act ).] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene II. 



Or any creeping venoni'd tiling that lives ! 
If ever he have child, abortive be it, 
Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, 
Whose ugly and unnatural aspect 
May fright' the hopeful mother at the view ; 
And that be heir to his unhappiness ! 
If ever he have wife, let her be made 
More miserable by the death of him, 
Than I am made by my young lord, and thee ! 
Come now, toward Chertsey with your holy load, 1 
Taken from Paul's to be interred there ; 
And, still as you are weary of the weight, 
Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. 
[The bearers take up the corpse, and advance. 

Enter Gloster. 

Glo. Stay, you that bear the corse, and set it 

down. 
Anne. What black magician conjures up this 
fiend, 
To stop devoted charitable deeds? 

Glo. Villains, set down the corse ; or, by Saiut 
Paul, 
I '11 make a corse of him that disobeys. 

1 Gent. My lord, stand back, and let the 

coffin pass. 
Glo. Unmanner'cl dog! stand thou when I 
command : 
Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, 
Or, by Saint Paul, I'll strike thee to my foot, 
And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. 
[The bearers set down the coffin. 
Anne. What, do yon tremble? are you all 
afraid ? 
Alas, I blame you not ; for you are mortal, 
And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil. 
Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell ! 
Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, 
His soul thou canst not have; therefore be 
gone. 
Glo. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. 
Anne. Foul devil, for God's sake, hence, aud 
trouble us not ; 
For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, 
Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. 
If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, 
Behold this pattern of thy butcheries. 
0, gentlemen, see, see ! dead Henry's wounds 
Open their congeal' d mouths and bleed afresh ! 2 
Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity ; 
For 't is thy presence that exhales this blood 
From cold and empty veins, where no blood 

dwells ; 
Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, 
Provokes this deluge most unnatural. 
2-44 



God, which this blood mad'st, revenge his 

death ! 
O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his 

death ! 
Either, heaven, with lightning strike the mur- 

thercr dead, 
Or, earth, gape open wide and eat him quick ; 
As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, 
Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! 

Glo. Lady, you know no rules of charity, 

Which renders* good for bad, blessings for curses. 

Anne. Villain, thou kncw*st no law of God 

nor man ; 

No beast so fierce but knows some touch of pity. 

Glo. But I know none, aud therefore am no 

beast. 
Anne. wonderful, when devils tell the truth ! 
Glo. More wonderful, when angels are so 
angry ! 
Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, 
Of these supposed crimes a to give me leave, 
By circumstance, but to acquit m\ self. 

Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, 
For these known evils but to give me leave, 
By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. 

Glo. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let 
me have 
Some patient leisure to excuse myself. 

Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou 
canst make 
No excuse current, but to hang thyself. 

Glo. By such despair I should accuse myself. 
Anne. And by despairing shalt thou stand 
excus'd, 
For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, 
That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. 
Glo. Say, that I slew them not. 
Anne. Then say, they were not slain. b 
But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. 
Glo. I did not kill your husbaud. 
Anne. Why, then he is alive. 

Glo. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's 

hand. 
Anne. In thy foul c throat thou iiest; queen 
Margaret saw 
Thy murderous faulchion smoking in his blood ; 
The which thou once didst bend against her 

breast, 
But that thy brothers beat aside the poiut. 
Glo. I was provoked by her slanderous 
tongue, 

a Crimes, in the folio ; the quartos, evils. 
b So the folio; the quartos, 

" Why then, they are not dead." 
c Foul throat; so the folio and quartos It has boon 
printed, "soul's throat." 



Act ].] 



KING KICHAED III. 



[Scene II 



That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoul- 
ders. 
Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody 
mind, 
That never dream' st on aught but butcheries : 
Didst thou not kill this king ? 

Glo. I grant ye. 

Anne. Dost grant me, hedgehog r then, God 
grant me too, 
Thou mayst be damned for that wicked deed ! 
0, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. 

Glo. The fitter for the King of heaven that 

hath him. 
Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt 

never come. 
Glo, Let him thank me that holp to send Lim 
thither ; 
.For he was fitter for that place than earth. 
Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. 
Glo. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me 

name it. 
Anne. Some dungeon. 
Glo. Your bed-chamber. 

Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou 

best ! 
Glo. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. 
Anne. I hope so. 

Glo. I know so. — But, gentle lady Anne, 
To leave this keen encounter of our wits, 
And fall somewhat into a slower method, 
Is not the causer of the timeless deaths 
Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, 
As blameful as the executioner ? 

Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most ac- 

curs'd effect. 
Glo. Your beauty was the cause of that effect ; 
Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleep, 
To undertake the death of all the world, 
So I might live one hour iu your sweet bosom. 

Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, 
These nails should rend that beauty from my 
cheeks. 
Glo. These eyes could not endure that beau- 
ty's wrack ; 
You should not blemish it if I stood by : 
As all the world is cheered by the sun, 
So I by that ; it is my day, my life. 

Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and 

deatb thy life ! 
Glo. Curse not thyself, fair creature ; thou 

art both. 
Anne. I would I were, to be rcveng'd on 

thee. 
Glo. It is a quarrel most unnatural, 
To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee. 



Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, 
To be reveng'd on him that kill'd my husband. 
Glo. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy hus- 
band, 
Did it to help thee to a better husband. 

Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the 

earth. 
Glo. He lives that loves thee better than he 

could. 
Anne. Name him. 
Glo. Plantagenet. 

Anne. Why, that was he. 

Glo. The self-same name, but one of better 

nature. 
Anne. Where is he ? 
Glo. Here : [She spits at him.'] 

Why dost thou spit at me ? 
Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy 

sake ! 
Glo. Never came poison from so sweet a 

place. 
Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. 
Out of my sight ! thou dost infect mine eyes. 
Glo. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected 

mine. 
Anne. 'Would they were basilisks, to strike 

thee dead ! 
Glo. I would they were, that I might die at 
once; 
For now they kill me with a living death. 
Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt 

tears ; 
Sham'd their aspects with store of childish 

drops : 
These eyes, which never shed remorseful tear, 
No, when my father York and Edward wept 
To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, 
When black-fac'd Clifford shook bis sword at 

him : 
Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, 
Told the sad story of my father's death, 
And twenty times made pause to sob and weep, 
That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, 
Like trees bedash'd with rain : iu that sad time 
My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear ; 
And what these sorrows could not thence ex- 
hale, 
Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with 

weeping. 11 
I never sued to friend, nor enemy ; 
My tongue could never learn sweet smoothing b 
word; 

a The twelve preceding lines are not found in the quarto 
copies. 

h Smoothing; so the folio. The quartos, soothing. 

245 



Act 1.] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene 11, 



But now thy beauty is proposed my fee. 
My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to 
speak. [She looks scornfully at him. 
Teach not thy lip such scorn ; for it was made 
For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. 
If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, 
Lo ! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword ; 
Which if thou please to hide in this true breast, 
And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, 
I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, 
And humbly beg the death upon my knee. 

[He lays his breast open ; she offers at it 
with his sword. 
Nay, do not pause ; for I did kill king Henry ; — 
But 't was thy beauty that provoked me. 
Nay, now despatch ; 't was I that stabb'd young 
Edward : — [She again offers at his 
breast. 
But 't was thy heavenly face that set me on. 

[She lets fall the sword. 
Take up the sword again, or take up me. 
Anne. Arise, dissembler : though I wish thy 
death 
I will not be thy executioner. 

Glo. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. 
Anne. I have already. 

Glo. That was in thy rage : 

Speak it again, and even with the word, 
This hand, which for thy love did kill thy love, 
Shall for thy love kill a far truer love ; 
To both then deaths shalt thou be accessary. 
Anne. I would I knew thy heart. 
Glo. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue. 
Anne. I fear me, both are false. 
Glo. Then never man was true. 
Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. 
Glo. Say then, my peace is made. 
Anne. That shalt thou know hereafter. 
Glo. But shall I live in hope ? 
Anne. All men, I hope, live so. 
Glo. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. 
Anne. To take, is not to give. a 

[She puts on the ring. 
Glo. Look, how my ring b encompasseth thy 
finger, 
Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart ; 
Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. 
And if thy poor devoted servant may 



a This rapid interchange of speech is wonderfully helped 
in its effect by the short lines of six syllables; but Steevcns, 
by the aid of some transpositions, has contrived to manufac- 
ture these ten lines into six of the vilest resemblances to the 
eye of blank verse that his botching ever achieved. In the 
quartos Lady Anne concludes with the line which the folio 
omits, 

" To take is not to give.' 



b My, in the folio; the quartos, this. 



But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, 
Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. 

Anne. What is it ? 

Glo. That it may please you leave these sad 
designs 
To him that hath most a cause to be a mourner, 
And presently repair to Crosby-house:'' 
Where, after I have solemnly interr'd, 
At Chertsey monastery, this noble king, 
And wet his grave with my repentant tears, 
I will with all expedient duty see you : 
For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you 
Grant me this boon. 

Anne. With all my heart ; and much it joys 
me too 
To see you are become so penitent. 
Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. 

Glo. Bid me farewell. 

Anne. 'T is more than you deserve : 

But, since you teach me how to flatter you, 
Imagine I have said farewell already. 

[Exeunt Lady Anne, Tkessel, and Berkley. 

Glo. Take up the corse, sirs. d 

Gent. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ? 

Glo. No, to White-Friars ; there attend my 
coming. 

[Exeunt the rest, with the corse. 
Was ever woman in this humour woo'd ? 
Was ever woman in this humour won ? 
I '11 have her, but I will not keep her long. 
What ! I, that kill'd her husband and his father, 
To take her in her heart's extremest hate ; 
With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, 
The bleeding witness of her hatred by ; 
Having 6 God, her conscience, and these bars 

against me, 
And I no friends to back my suit withal, 
But the plain devil, and dissembling looks, 
And yet to win her, all the world to nothing ! 
Ha! 

Hath she forgot already that brave prince, 
Edward, her lord, whom I, some three months 

since, 
Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewkesbury ? 
A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman, 
Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, 
Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, rigid 

royal, 
The spacious world cannot again afford : 
And will she yet abase her eyes on me, 



a Most, in the folio ; the quartos, more. 
•» Crosby-house, in the folio ; the quartos, Crosby place. 
c Expedient — expeditious. 
<1 The folio omits this line. 

e Having, in all the old editions. The metre-regulators 
have substituted with. 



Act I.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scene in. 



That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet 

prince, 
And made her widow to a woeful bed ? 
On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety ? 
On me, that halt, and am mis-shapen thus ? 
My dukedom to a beggarly denier, 
1 do mistake my person all this while : 
Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, 
Myself to be a marvellous proper man. 
I '11 be at charges for a looking glass ; 
And entertain a score or two of tailors 
To study fashions to adorn my body : 
Since I am crept in favour with myself, 
I will maintain it with some little cost. 
But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in a his grave ; 
And then return lamenting to my love. 
Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, 
That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit. 

SCENE III. — The same. A room in the Palace. 

Enter Queen Elizabeth, Loud Rivers, and 
Lord Grey. 

Riv. Have patience, madam ; there 's no doubt 
his majesty 
Will soon recover his accustom'd health. 

Grey. In that you brook it ill it makes him 
worse : 
Therefore, for God's sake, entertain good com- 
fort, 
And cheer his grace with quick and merry 
ejes." 
Q. Eliz. If he were dead, what would betide 

on me ? 
Grey. No other harm but loss of such a lord. 
Q. Eliz. The loss of such a lord includes all 

harms. 
Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a 
goodly son, 
To be your comforter when he is gone. 

Q. Eliz. Ah, he is young ; and his minority 
Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster, 
A man that loves not me, nor none of you. 
Riv. Is it concluded he shall be protector ? 
Q. Eliz. It is determin'd, not concluded yet : 
But so it must be if the king miscarry. 

Enter Buckingham and Stanley. 

Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham 
and Stanley. 

i In — into. 

b Zyes in the folio; words in the quartos. 

c Stanley. In the early part of this play, Lord Stanley, who 
is named such in the fourth and fifth acts, is called Derby. 
He was not created Earl of Derby till after the accession of 
Henry VII. The necessary correction throughout was made 
by Theobald. 



Buck. Good time of day uuto your royal 

grace ! 
Stan. God make your majesty joyful as you 

have been ! 
Q. Eliz. The countess Richmond, good my 
lord of Stanley, 
To your good prayer will scarcely say amen. 
Yet, Staidey, notwithstanding she 's your wife, 
And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd 
I hate not you for her proud arrogance. 

Stan. I do beseech you, either not believe 
The envious slanders of her false accusers ; 
Or, if she be accus'd on true report, 
Bear with her weakness, which, I think, pro- 
ceeds 
.From wayward sickness, and no grounded ma- 
lice. 
Q. Eliz. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of 

Stanley ? 
Shin. But now, the duke of Buckingham and I 
Are come from visiting his majesty. 

Q. Eliz. What likelihood of his amendment, 

lords ? 
Buck. Madam, good hope ; his grace speaks 

cheerfully. 
Q. Eliz. God grant him health ! did you con- 
fer with him ? 
Buck. Ay, madam : he desires to make atone- 
ment 
Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, 
And between them and my lord chamberlain ; 
And sent to warn 1 them to his royal presence. 
q. Eliz. 'Would all were well !— but that will 
never be ! 
I fear our happiness is at the height. 

Enter Gloster, Hastings, and Dorset. 

Glo. They do me wrong, and I will not en- 
dure it : 
Who are they that complain unto the king, 
That I, forsooth, am stern and love them not ? 
By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly 
That fill his ears with such dissensious rumours. 
Because I cannot flatter, and look b fair, 
Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, 
Duck with French nods and apish courtesy, 
I must be held a rancorous enemy. 
Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm, 
But thus his simple truth must be abus'd 
By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks ? 

Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks 
your grace ? 

Glo. To thee, that hast nor honesty nor grace. 



a Worn— summon. 

b Look, in the folio; the quartos, speak. 

247 



AST I.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[SCEKE III. 



When have I injur'd thee ? when done thee 

wrong ? — 
Or thee ?— or thee ? — or any of your faction ? 
A plague upon you all ! His royal grace, 
Whom God preserve better than you would wish ! 
Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, 
But you must trouble him with lewd complaints. 
Q. Eliz. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the 
matter : 
The king, of his own royal disposition, 
And not provok'd by any suitor else ; 
Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred, 
That in your outward action shows itself 
Against my children, brothers, and myself, 
Makes him to send ; that thereby he may gather 
The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. a 
Glo. I cannot tell : — The world is grown so 
bad 
That wrens make prey b where eagles dare not 

perch : 
Since every Jack became a gentleman, 
There 's many a gentle person made a Jack. 
Q. Eliz. Come, come, we know your meaning, 
brother Gloster ; 
You envy my advancement, and my friends' ; 
God grant we never may have need of you ! 
Glo. Meantime, God grants that we have need 
of you : 
Our brother is imprison'd by your means, 
Myself disgrae'd, and the nobility 
Held in contempt ; while great promotions 
Are daily given, to ennoble those 
That scarce, some two days since, were worth a 
noble. 
Q. Eliz. By Him that rais'd me to this care- 
ful height 
From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, 
I never did incense his majesty 
Against the duke of Clarence, but have been 
An earnest advocate to plead for him. 
My lord, you do me shameful injury 
Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. 

Glo. You may deny that you were not the 
mean 
Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment. 

Rio. She mr.y, my lord ; for 

Glo. She may, lord Rivers ? — why, who knows 
not so ? 
She may do more, sir, than denying that : 



a We print the passage as in the quartos. The folio 1 1 n s 
only one line, instead of the amplified reading of the quartos ; 
— it is, 

" Makes him to send, that he may learn the ground.'' 

b Make pre;/ — so in the folio, and (he two first quartos. 
The reading of many modern reprints was may p'jy- 
e Mean, in the folio; the quartos, cause. 

248 



She may help you to many fair preferments ; 
And then deny her aiding hand therein, 
And lay those honours on your high desert. 
What may she not? She may,— ay, marry, may 

she, — 
Riv. What, marry, may she ? 
Glo. What, marry, may she? marry with a 

king, 
A bachelor, and a handsome stripling too : 
I wis your grandam had a worser match. 

Q. Eliz. My lord of Gloster, I have too long 

borne 
Your blunt upbraidings and your bitter scoffs : 
By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty 
Of those gross taunts that oft I have endur'd. 
I had rather be a country servant-maid 
Than a great queen, with this condition, 
To be so baited, scorn' d, and stormed at : 
Small joy have I in being England's queen. 

Enter Queen Margaret, behind. 

Q. Mar. And lessen'd be that small, God, I 

beseech him ! a 
Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. 

Glo. What ? threat you me with telling of the 

king? 
Tell him, and spare not : look, what I have said" 
I will avouch, in presence of the king : 
I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 
'T is time to speak, my pains are quite forgot. 
Q. Mar. Out, devil ! I do remember them 

too well : 
Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, 
And Edward, my poor son, at Tewkesbury. 
Glo. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband 

king, 
I was a pack-horse in his great affairs ; 
A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, 
A liberal rewarder of his friends ; 
To royalize his blood I spilt mine own. 

Q. Mar. Ay, and much better blood than his, 

or thine. 
Glo. In all which time, you, and your husband 

Grey, 
Were factious for the house of Lancaster ; — 
And, Rivers, so were you : — Was not your hus- 
band 
In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain ? 
Let me put in your minds, if you forget, 
What you have been ere this, c and what you arc ; 
Withal, what I have been, and what I am. 



a Him, in the folio; the quartos, thte. 
b This line is not found in the folio. The omiss : on is evi- 
dent!; a typographical error. 

c Tliis, in the folio; the quartos, now. 



Act I.] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[SCKNE III. 



Q. Mar. A murtherous villain, and so still 

thou art. 
Glo. Poor Clarence did forsake his father 
Warwick, 
Ay, and forswore himself, — which Jesu par- 
don ! — 
Q. Mar. Which God revenge ! 
Glo. To fight on Edward's party, for the 
crown ; 
And, for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up : 
I would to God my heart were flint like Edward's, 
Or Edward's soft and pitiful like mine ; 
I am too childish-foolish for this world. 

Q Mar. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave 
this world, 
Thou cacodsemon ! there thy kingdom is. 

Riv. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days, 
Which here you urge to prove us enemies, 
We follow'd then our lord, our sovereign a king ; 
So should we you, if you should be our king. 
Glo. If I should be ? — I had rather be a 
pedlar : 
Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof ! 
Q. Eliz. As little joy, my lord, as you sup- 
pose 
You should enjoy, were you this country's king ; 
As little joy you may suppose in me 
That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. 

Q. Mar. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof ! 
For I am she, and altogether joyless. 
[ can no longer hold me patient. — [Advancing. 
Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out 
In sharing that which you have pilFcl from me : 
Which of you trembles not that looks on me ? 
If not, that I being queen you bow like subjects, 
Yet that by you depos'd you quake like rebels ? — 
Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away ! 

Glo. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou 

in my sight ? 
Q. Mar. But repetition of what thou hast 
marr'd ; 
That will I make, before I let thee go. b 

Glo. Wert thou not banished on pain of death ? 
Q. Mar. I was ; but I do find more pain in 
banishment 
Than death can yield me here by my abode. 
A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me,— 
And thou, a kingdom ; — all of you, allegiance ; 



* Sovereign, in the folio; the quartos, lawful. Tim cor- 
rection of the folio was certainly necessary; for Rivers 
would scarcely have ventured to use the epithet lawful 
(legitimate) in the presence of Gloster. 

b The double acceptation ot the verb make is also exem- 
plified in As You Like It: — 

" Now, sir, what make you here ? 
Nothing : I am not taught to make anything." 



This sorrow that I have by right is yours : 
And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. 

Glo. The curse my noble father laid on thee, 
When thou didst crown his warlike brows with 

paper, 
And with thy scorns drew'st livers from his eyes, 
And then, to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout, 
Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rut- 
land ; — 
His curses, then from bitterness of soul 
Denounc'd against thee, are all fallen upon thee ; 
And God, not we, hath plagued thy bloody deed. 
Q. Eliz. So just is God, to right the innocent. 
Hast. O, 't was the foulest deed, to slay that 
babe, 
And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of. 
Riv. Tyrants themselves wept when it was 

reported. 
Dors. No man but prophesied revenge for it. 
Buck. Northumberland, then present, wept to 

see it. 
Q. Mar. What ! were you snarling all, before 
I came, 
Ready to catch each other by the throat, 
And turn you all your hatred now on me ? 
Did York's dread curse prevail so much with 

heaven 
That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, 
Their kingdom's loss, my woful banishment, 
Should all but answer for that peevish brat ? 
Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven ? — 
Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick 

curses ! 
Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, 
As ours by murther, to make him a king ! 
Edward, thy son, that now is prince of Wales, 
For Edward, our son, that was prince of Wales, 
Die in his youth by like untimely violence ! 
Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, 
Outlive thy glory, like my wretched self ! 
Long may'st thou live, to wail thy children's 

deatli a 
And see another, as I see thee now, 
Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine ! 
Long die thy happy days before thy death ; 
And, after many lengthen'd hours of grief, 
Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen ! 
Rivers, and Dorset, you were standers by, — 
And so wast thou, lord Hastings, — when my son 
Was stabb'd with bloody daggers : God, I pray 

him, 
That none of you may live your natural age, 
But by some unlook'd accident cut off ! 



a Death, in the folio j the quartos, l< ss. 

249 



Act I.] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene HI. 



Glo. Have done thy charm, thou hateful 

wither' d hag. 
Q. Mar. Ajid leave out thee ? stay, dog, for 
thou shalt hear me. 
If heaven have any grievous plague in store, 
Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, 
0, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe, 
And then hurl down their indignation 
On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace ! 
The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul ! 
Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, 
And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends ! 
No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, 
Unless it be while some tormenting dream 
Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils ! 
Thou elvish-mark'd, abortive, rooting hog ! 
Thou that wast seal'd in thy nativity 
The slave of nature, and the son of hell ! 
Thou slander of thy heavy mother's womb ! a 
Thou loathed issue of thy father's loius ! 

Thou rag of honour ! thou detested 

Glo. Margaret. 
Q. Mar. Richard ! 

Glo. Ha ? 

Q. Mar. I call thee not. 

Glo. I cry thee mercy then ; for I did think 
That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter 
names. 
Q. Mar. Why, so I did ; but look'd for no 
reply. 
O, let me make the period to my curse. 

Glo. 'Tis done by me; and ends in— Margaret. 
Q. Eli:. Thus have you breath'd your curse 

against yourself. 
Q. Mar. Poor painted queen, vain flourish of 
my fortune ! 
Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider, 
Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about ? 
Fool, fool ! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. 
The day will come that thou shalt wish for me 
To help thee curse this pois'nous bunch-back'd 
toad. 
Hast. False-boding woman, end thy frantic 
curse, 
Lest to thy harm thou move our patience. 

Q. Mar. Foul shame upon you ! you have all 

mov'd mine. 
Riv. Were you well serv'd, you would be 

taught your duty. 
Q. Mar. To serve me well, you all should do 
me duty, 
Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects : 
0, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. 
Dor. Dispute not with her, she is lunatic. 

a So the folio; the quartos, mother's heavy womb. 
250 



Q. Mar. Peace, master marquis, you are mal- 
apert : 
Your fire-new stamp of honour is scarce current : 
0, that your young nobility could judge 
What 't were to lose it, and be miserable ! 
They that stand high have many blasts to shake 

them ; 
And if they fall they clash themselves to pieces. 

Glo. Good counsel, marry ; learn it, learn it, 
marquis. 

Dor. It touches you, my lord, as much as me. 

Glo. Ay, and much more : But I was born so 
high, 
Our aiery buildeth in the cedar's top, 
And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 

Q. Mar. And turns the sun to shade ; — alas ! 
alas ! 
~W itness my son, now in the shade of death ; 
Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath 
Hath in eternal darkness folded up. 
Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest : 
God, that see'st it, do not suffer it ; 
As it was won with blood, lost be it so ! 

Buck. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for 
charity. 

Q. Mar. Urge neither charity nor shame to me; 
Uncharitably with me have you dealt, 
And shamefully my hopes by you a are butcher'd. 
My charity is outrage, life my shame, — 
And in that shame still live my sorrow's rage ! 

Buck. Have done, have done. 

Q. Mur. princely Buckingham, I '11 kiss 
thy hand, 
In sign of league and amity with thee : 
Now fair befal thee and thy noble house ! 
Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, 
Nor thou within the compass of my curse. 

Buck. Nor no one here ; for curses never pass 
The lips of those that breathe them in the air. 

Q. Mar. I will not think b but they ascend the 

sty, 
And there awake God's gentle-sleeping peace. 
Buckingham, take heed c of yonder dog ; 
Look, when he fawns he bites ; and, when he 

bites, 
His venom tooth will rankle to the death : 
Have not to do with him, beware of him ; 
Sin, death, and hell, have set their marks on him ; 
And all their ministers attend on him. 



a We print the passage as in the folio ; in the quartos we 
read, 

" And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd.* 

1' So the folio ; the quartos, " I '11 not believe." 
e Take heed, ill the folio; the quartos, beware. The cor- 
rection was evidently made to avoid the repetition of t!.e 
word, three lines below. 



Act 



KING EICHAED III. 



[SCENF. IV. 



Glo. What doth she say, my lord of Bucking- 
ham ? 
Buck. Nothing that I respect, my gracious 

lord. 
Q. Mar. What, dost thou scorn me for my 
gentle counsel, 
And soothe the devil that I warn thee from ? 
0, but remember this another day, 
When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow ; 
And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess. 
Live each of you the subjects to his hate, 
And he to yours, and all of you to God's ! [Exit. 
Hast. My hair doth stand on end to hear her 

curses. 
Riv. Aud so doth mine ; I muse why she 's at 

liberty. 
Glo. I cannot blame her, by God's holy 
mother ; 
She hath had too much wrong, and I repent 
My part thereof, that I have done to her. 
(J. Eliz. I never did her any, to my knowledge. 
Glo. Yet vou have all the vantage of her wrong. 
I was too hot to do somebody good, 
That is too cold in thinking of it now. 
Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid ; 
He is frank' d up to fatting for his pains ; 
God pardon them that are the cause thereof ! 
Riv. A virtuous and a cbristian-likc conclu- 
sion, 
To pray for them that have done scath to us. 

Glo. So do I ever, being well advis'd :— 
For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. 

[Aside. 

Enter Catesby. 

Cates. Madam, his majesty doth call for you, — ■ 
And for your grace, — aud you, my noble lord. 

Q. Eliz. Catesby, I come : — Lords, will you 
go with me ? 

Riv. We wait a upon your grace. 

[Exeunt all but Glostek. 

Glo. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. 
The secret mischiefs that I set abroach 
I lay unto the grievous charge of others. 
Clarence, — whom I, indeed, have cast b in dark- 
ness, — 
I do beweep to many simple gulls ; 
Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham ; 
And tell them, 't is the queen and her allies 
That stir the king against the duke my brother. 
Now they believe it ; and withal whet me 
To be reveng'd on Rivers, Dorset, Grey : 

a We wait — so the folio. The passage in the quarto is, 

" Madam, we will attend upon your grace." 
I) Cast, in the folio; the quartos, laid. 
c Dorset, in the folio ; the quartos, Vaughan.. 



But then I sigh, and, with a piece of scripture, 
Tell them, that God bids us do good for evil : 
And thus I clothe my naked villainy 
With odd old ends, stolen forth of holy writ ; 
And seem a saint, when most I play the devil. 

Enter two Murderers. 

But soft, here come my executioners. 
How now, my hardy, stout resolved males ? 
Are you now going to despatch this thing ? 
1 Murcl. We are, my lord ; and conic to have 

the warrant, 
That we may be admitted where he is. 

Glo. Well thought upon, I have it here about 

me : [Gives the warrant. 

When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. 
But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, 
Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead ; 
For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps, 
May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 

1 Murd. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand 

to prate ; 
Talkers are no good doers ; be assur'd 
We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. 
Glo. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' 
eyes fall a tears : 
I like you, lads ; — about your business straight ; 
Go, go, despatch. 

2 Murd. We will, my noble lord. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IV.— The same. A Room in the Tower. 
Enter Clarence and Bkaken:btj.r,y. 

Bralc. Why looks your grace so heavily to- 
day ? 
Clar. 0, I have pass'd a miserable night, 
So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, 
That, as I am a christian faithful man, 
I would not spend another such a night 
Though 't were to buy a world of happy days ; 
So full of dismal terror was the time. 
Bralc. What was your dream, my lord? 1 

pray you, tell me. 
Clar. Methought that I had broken from the 
Tower, 
And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy ; 
And in my company my brother Gloster : 
Who from my cabin tempted me to walk 
Upon the hatches ; there we look'd toward Eng- 
land, 
And cited up a thousand heavy times, 
During the wars of York and Lancaster 



Fall, in the folio : the quartos, drop. 

251 



Act I.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scene IV. 



That had befall'n us. As we pac'd along 
Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, 
Methought that Gloster stumbled ; and, in falling, 
Struck me, that thought to stay him, over-board, 
Into the tumbling billows of the main. 

Lord ! methought what pain it was to drown ! 
What dreadful noise of water in mine ears ! 
What sights of ugly death within mine eyes ! 
Methought I saw a thousand fearful wracks : 

A thousand men that fishes gnaw'd upon ; 

Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, 

Inestimable stones, unvalued jewels, 

All scatter'd in the bottom of the sea. 

Some lay in dead men's skulls ; and in those holes 

Where eyes did once inhabit there were crept, 

As 't were in scorn of eyes, reflecting gems, 

That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, 

And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. 

Brak. Had you such leisure in the time of 
death, 
To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ? 

Clar. Methought I had ; and often did I strive 
To yield the ghost : but still the envious flood 
Stopt a in my soul, and would not let it forth 
To find b the empty, vast, and wand' ring air ; 
But smother'd it within my panting bulk, 
Which abnost burst to belch it in the sea. 

Brak. Awak'd you not in c this sore agony? 

Clar. No, d no, my dream was lengthen'd after 
life; 
O, then began the tempest to my soul ! 

1 pass'd, methought, the melancholy flood 
With that sour 6 ferryman which poets write of, 
Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. 

The first that there did greet my stranger soul 
Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick ; 
Who spake f aloud, — ' What scourge for perjury 
Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ?' 
And so he vanish'd : Then came wandering by 
A shadow like an angel, with bright hair 
Dabbled in blood ; and he shriek'd out aloud, — 
'Clarence is come, — false, fleeting, perjur'd 

Clarence, — 
That stabb'd me in the field by Tewkesbury ; — 
Seize on him, furies, take him unto g torment ! ' — 
With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends 
Euviron'd me, and howled in mine ears 
Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise 
I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, 



a Stopt, in the folio ; the quartos, kept. 
b Find, in the folio; one of the early quartos reads seek, — 
another, keep. 

c In, in the folio ; the quart03, with. 

d No, in the folio ; the quartos, 0. 

e Sour, in the folio ; the quartos, grim. 

f Spake, in the folio ; the quartos, cried. 

e Unto torment, in the folio; the quartos, to your torments. 

252 



Could not believe but that I was in hell ; 
Such terrible impression made my dream. 
Brak. No marvel, lord, though it affrighted 
you; 
I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. 

Clar. O, Brakenbury, a I have done these 
things, — 
That now give evidence agaiust my soul, — 
For Edward's sake ; and see how he requites me ! 

God ! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, 
But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, 

Yet execute thy wrath on me alone : 

O, spare my guiltless wife and my poor children ! b 

1 pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me ; c 
My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. 

Brak. I will, my lord : God give your grace 
good rest ! — [Clarence retires. 

Sorrow breaks seasons and reposing hours, — 
Makes the night morning, and the noontide night. 
Princes have but their titles for their glories, 
An outward honour for an inward toil ; 
And, for unfelt imaginations, 
They often feel a world of restless cares : 
So that, between their titles, and low name, 
There 's nothing differs but the outward fame. 

Enter the two Murderers. 

1 Nurd. Ho ! who 's here ? 
Brak. What wouldst thou, fellow ? and how 
cam'st thou hither ? 

1 Murd. 1 would speak with Clarence, and 1 
came hither on my legs. 

Brak. What, so brief ? 

2 Murd. 'Tis better, sir, than to be tedious: — 
let him see our commission, and talk no more.' 1 

[A paper is delivered to Brakenbuky. 
who reads it. 
Brak. I am in this, commanded to deliver 
The noble duke of Clarence to your hands : 
1 will not reason what is meant hereby, 
Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. 
There lies the duke asleep,— and there, the 
keys. 6 

a In the quarto this scene commences with Clarence ad- 
dressing; the description of his dream to Brakenbury; but 
in the folio the stage-direction is, ''Enter Clarence and 
Keeper." This change was probably designed, for in the pas - 
sage before us, the reading of the quartos, " O, Brakenbury," 
is altered to " O, keeper, keeper." Brakenbury subse- 
quently enters, in the folio, when Clarence is sleeping. 
There does not appear any reason for deviating from the 
arrangement of the quartos. 

b The four preceding lines are not found in the quartos. 

c So the quartos. In the folio we read, 

" Keeper, I prithee sit by me awhile." 

d We give the passage as in the plain prose of the folio. 
In the quartos the speech has a metrical appearance, which 
lias been generally polished, most unnecessarily, into very 
smooth verse. 

o In some modern editions, when Clarence says *' I fain 
would sleep," we had a stage direction, "Clarence reposet 



Ace I.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scene IV. 



I '11 to the king ; and signify to him 

That thus I have resign'd to you my charge. 

1 Murd. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wis- 

dom : 
Fare you well. [Exit Bkakenbury. 

2 Murd. What, shall we stab him as he 
sleeps ? 

1 Murd. No ; he '11 say 't was done cowardly, 
when he wakes. 

2 Murd. Why, he shall never wake until the 
great judgment clay. 

1 Murd. Why, then he "11 say we stabb'd him 
sleeping. 

2 Murd. The urging of that word, judgment, 
hath bred a kiud of remorse in me, 

1 Murd. What ! art thou afraid ? 

2 Murd. Not to kill him, having a warrant ; 
but to be daum'd for killing him, from the which 
no warrant can defend me. 

1 Murd. I thought thou hadst been resolute. 

2 Murd. So I am, to let him live. 

1 Murd. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and 
tell him so. 

2 Murd. Nay, I prithee, stay a little : 1 hope 
tliis passionate humour of mine will change : it 
was wont to hold me but while one tells twenty. 

1 Murd. How dost thou feel thyself now ? 

2 Murd. Some certain dregs of conscience are 
yet within me. 

1 Murd. Remember our reward, when the 
deed 's done. 

2 Murd. Come, he dies ; I had forgot the 
reward. 

1 Murd. Where's thy conscience now ? 

2 Murd. Oh, in the duke of Gloster's purse. 

1 Murd. When he opens his purse to give us 
our reward, thy conscience flies out. 

2 Murd. 'T is no matter ; let it go ; there 's 
few, or none, will entertain it. 

1 Murd. What, if it come to thee again ? 

2 Murd. I '11 not meddle with it, [it is a dan- 
gerous thing,] it makes a man a coward ; a man 
cannot steal but it accuseth him ; a man cannot 
swear but it checks him ; a man cannot lie with 
his neighbour's wife but it detects him : 'T is a 
blushing shame-faced spirit that mutinies in a 
man's bosom ; it fills one full of obstacles : it 
made me once restore a purse of gold that by 
chance I found ; it beggars any man that keeps 
it : it is turned out of towns and cities for a dan- 
gerous thing ; and every man that means to live 

himself in a chair." This direction is founded upon the line 
of the quartos, which stands in the place of the line before us, 

" Here are the keys, there sits the duke asleep." 

We have no doubt that it was intended that Clarence should 
tstire to the secondary stage, and there lie upon a couch. 



well endeavours to trust to himself, and live 
without it. 

1 Murd. It is now even at my elbow, per- 
suading me not to kill the duke. 

2 Murd. Take the devil in thy mind, and be- 
lieve him not : he would insinuate with thee, 
but to make thee sigh. 

1 Murd. I am strong fram'd, he cannot pie- 
vail with me. 

2 Murd. Spoken like a tall fellow that respeefs 
his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work ? 

1 Murd. Take him on the costard with the 
hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the 
malmsey-butt, in the next room. 

2 Murd. O excellenf device ! and make a sop 
of him. 

1 Murd. Soft ! he wakes. 

2 Murd. Strike. 

1 Murd. No, we '11 reason with him. a 

Gar. Where art thou, keeper ? give me a cup 

of wine. 
1 Murd. You shall have wine enough, my 

lord, anon. 
Clar. In God's name, what art thou ? 
1 Murd. A man, as you are. 
Clar. But not, as I am, royal. 
1 Murd. Nor you, as we are, loyal. 
Clar. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are 

humble. 

1 Murd. My voice is now the king's, my 

looks mine own. 
Clar. How darkly and how deadly dost thou 

speak ! 
Your eyes do menace me : Why look you pale ? 
Who sent you hither ? Wherefore do you come ? 

2 Murd. To, to, to 

Clar. To murther me ? 
Both Murd. Ay, ay. 

Clar. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me 
so, 
And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. 
Wherein, my friends, have I offended you ? 

1 Murd. Offended us you have not, but the 

king. 
Clar. I shall be reconcil'd to him again. 

2 Murd. Never, my lord ; therefore, prepare 

to die. 
Clar. Are you drawn forth among a world of 
men, b 



a In the previous dialogue between the two murderers, we 
have adhered to the text of the folio. There are several 
minute differences between this text and that of the quartos 
which it is scarcely necessary to point out. 

b We print this line as in the folio. The first quarto reads 

" Are you calVd forth from out a world of men." 
Johnson proposed to read eull'd. 

253 



Act r ] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene IV. 



To slay the innocent ? What is my offence ? 
Where is the evidence that doth accuse me ? 
What lawful quest have given their verdict up 
Unto the frowning judge ? or who pronounc'd 
The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death ? 
Before I be convict by course of law. 
To threaten me with death is most unlawful. 
I charge you, as you hope for any goodness, 0. 
That you depart, and lay no hands on me ; 
The deed you undertake is damnable. 

1 Murd. What we will do we do upon com- 

mand. 

2 Murd. And he that hath commanded is our 

king. 
Clar. Erroneous vassal ! the great King of 

kings 
Hath in the table of his law commanded, 
That thou shalt do no murther : Will you then 
Spurn at his edict, and fulfil a man's ? 
Take heed ; for he holds vengeance in his hand, 
To hurl upon their heads that break his law. 
2 Murd. And that same vengeance doth he 

hurl on thee, 
For false forswearing, and for murther too : 
Thou didst receive the sacrament to fight 
In quarrel of the house of Lancaster. 

1 Murd. And, like a traitor to the name of 

God, 
Didst break that vow ; and with thy treacherous 

blade 
Unripp' dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 

2 Murd. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish 

and defend. 
1 Murd. How canst thou urge God's dreadful 
law to us, 
When thou hast broke it in such dear degree ? 
Clar. Alas ! for whose sake did I that ill 
deed ? 
For Edward, for my brother, for his sake : 
He sends you not to murther me for this ; 
For in that sin he is as deep as I. 
If God will be avenged for the deed, 
0, know you, yet he doth it publicly ; 
Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm ; 
He needs no indirect or lawless course, 
To cut off those that have offended him. 

1 Murd. Who made thee then a bloody mi- 
nister, 
When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, 
That princely novice, was struck dead by thee ? 

a A line is here omitted in the folio, which it is unneces- 
sary to retain in a modern text. It was properly omitted 
under the statute of James, as introducing the most sacred 
things unnecessarily into a work of imagination. The 
quartos read — 

" I charge you, as you hope to have redemption 
By Christ's dear Mood shed for our grievous sins." 

254 



Clar. My brother's love, the devil, and my 
rage. 

1 Murd. Thy brother's love, our duty, antl 

thy faults, 
Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. 

Clar. If you do love my brother, hate not me ; 
I am his brother, and I love him well. 
If you are hb'd for meed, go back again, 
And I will send you to my brother Glostcr ; 
Who shall reward you better for my life 
Than Edward will for tidings of my death. 

2 Murd. You are deceiv'd, your brother 

Gloster hates you. 
Clar. 0, no; he loves me, and he holds me 
dear ; 
Go you to him from me. 
Both Murd. Ay, so we will. 

Clar. Tell him, when that our princely father 
York 
Eless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, 
And charg'd us from his soul to love each 

other, a 
He little thought of this divided friendship : 
Bkl Gloster think on this, and he will weep. 
1 Murd. Ay, millstones ; as he lesson'd us to 

weep. 
Clar. 0, do not slander him, for he is kind. 
1 Murd. Eight, as snow in harvest.— Come, 
you deceive yourself : 
'T is he that sends us to destroy you here. 

Clar. It cannot be, for he bewept my fortune. 
And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with 

sobs, 
That he would labour my delivery. 

1 Murd. Why, so he doth, when he delivers 

_ you 
From this earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven. 

2 Murd. Make peace with God, for you must 

die, my lord. 
Clar. Have you that holy feeling in your 
souls, 
To counsel me to make my peace with God, 
And are you yet to your own souls so blind, 
That you will war with God, by murthering me ? 
Oh, sirs, consider, they that set you on 
To do this deed will hate you for the deed. b 
2 Murd. What shall we do ? 
Clar. Eelent, aud save your souls. 

F/hich of you, if you were a prince's son, 
Being pent from liberty, as I am now, 
If two such murtherers as yourselves came to 
you, 



a This line is not in the folio. 

b Clarence's speech, in the folio, is addressed to botli 
murderers; and we give the pronoun accordingly. 



Act I.] 



KING KICHAKD III 



[SCENE IV 



Would not entreat for life, — as you would beg 
Were you in my distress ? a 

1 Murd. Relent ! No. 'T is cowardly and 

womanish. 
Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devil- 
ish. — 
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ; 
0, if thine eye be not a flatterer, 
Come thou on my side, and entreat for me : 
A begging prince, what beggar pities not ? 

2 Murd. J took behind you, my lord. 

1 Murd. Take that, and that ; if all this will 
not do, [Stabs him. 



i The arrangement here, in the folio, is different from 
tune of the ordinary texts. We prefer to follow the folio. 
The text of the quartos is as follows : — 

" Clar. Relent, and save your souls. 

1 M . Relent ! 't is cowardly and womanish. 

Clar. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, and devilish. 
My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks ; 
O, if thine eye be not a llatterer, 
Come thou on my side and entreat for me : 
A. begging prince what beggar pities not ? " 



I '11 drown you in the malmsey-butt within. 

[E.vit, with the body. 
2 Murd. A bloody deed, and desperately de- 
spatch'd ! 
How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands 
Of this most grievous murder ! 

Re-enter first Murderer. 

1 Murd. How now ? what mean'st thou, that 

thou help'st me not P 
By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you 
have been. 

2 Murd. I would he knew that I had sav'd 

his brother ! 
Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say ; 
For I repent me that the duke is slain. [Exit. 
1 Murd. So do not I ; go, coward as thou art. 
Well, 1 '11 go hide the body in some hole, 
Till that the duke give order for his burial ; 
And when I have my meed, I will away ; 
For this will out, and then I must not stay. 

{Exit. 




[S^enc IT.] 




psp 




[Cherlsey.j 



ILLUSTKATIONS OE ACT I. 



1 Scexe II. — " Come now, toward Chertsey with your 
holy load." 
The monastery of Chertsey, to which, after rest- 
ing a day at St. Paul's, the corpse of Henry VI. 
was carried to be interred, exhibits scarcely any 
trace of its former state. The old building shown 
in the above view stands upon its site ; and a few 
mouldering walls indicate that the men of other 
days have here abided. 



2 Scene II. 



-"dead Henry s wounds 



Open their congeaVd mouths, and bleed afresh /" 

Drayton has stated the popular superstition to 

which this passage refers : — 

" If the vile actors of the heinous deed 
Near the dead body happily be brought, 
Oft 't hath been prov'd the breathless corpse will bleed." 

In a very interesting collection of ' English Causes 
Celcbres,' edited by Mr. Craik, the belief is shown 
to have been so universally established in Scotland, 
256 



as late as 1688, that the crown counsel, Sir George 
Mackenzie, in the remarkable trial of Philip 
Standsfield, thus alludes to a fact sworn to by 
several witnesses on that trial : — " God Almighty 
himself was pleased to bear a share in the testi- 
monies which we produce. That Divine Power 
which makes the blood circulate during life has 
ofttimes, in all nations, opened a passage to it after 
death upon such occasions, but most in this case ; 
for after all the wounds had been sewed up, and 
the body designedly shaken up and down, and, 
which is most wonderful, after the body had been 
buried for several days, which naturally occasions 
the blood to congeal, upon Philip's touching it the 
blood darted and sprung out, to the great asto- 
nishment of the chirurgeons themselves, who were 
desired to watch this event ; whereupon Philip, 
astonished more than they, threw down the body, 
crying, God ! O God ! and, cleansing his hand, 
grew so faint that they were forced to give him a 
cordial." 




:x^ 



[Richard III. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



It has not been our design, in these Illustrations, 
to advance the knowledge of the real facts of 
history, and to show the proper dependence of 
one fact upon another, for the purpose of cor- 
recting the poetical view of any series of events ; 
far less have we endeavoured to enter upon 
disputed points, and to place conflicting evidence, 
for the most part derived from the more accurate 
researches of modern times, in opposition to the 
details of the old historical authorities. It is our 
business simply to show the foundations upon 
which our poet built ; — to trace the relations 
between his dramatic situations and the narratives 
with which he was evidently familial-. In the 
great drama before us Shakspere fell in with the 
popular view of the character of Richard III. ; — 
preserving all the strong lineaments of his guilty 
ambition, as represented by Sir Thomas More, and 
the Chroniclers who followed the narrative of 
that illustrious man, with marvellous subservience 
to his own wonderful conception of the high in- 

Histokies. — Vol. II. S 



tellectual supremacy of this usurper. We are not 
about to inquire whether the Richard of history 
has had justice done to him, but whether the 
Richard of Shakspere accords with the Richard 
of the old annalists. We shall quote invariably 
from Hall, because his narrative is more literally 
copied from More and the contemporary writers 
than that of Holiushed, who is never so quaint 
and vigorous ; and further, because we wish to 
show that the nonsense which has been uttered 
by Malone and others, that Shakspere knew no 
other historian than Holinshed, is disproved in 
the clearest manner by the accuracy with which 
in some scenes he follows the older Chronicler. 

We first give Hall's description (from More) of 
Richard's person and character : — ■ 

"Richard duke of Gloster was in wit and courage 
equal with the others (his brothers Edward and 
George), but in beauty and lineaments of nature 
far underneath both ; for he was little of stature, 
evil-featured of limbs, crook-backed, the left 

257 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT I. 



shoulder much higher than the right, hard fa- 
voured of visage, such as in estates is called a war- 
like visage and among common persons a crabbed 
face. He was malicious, wrathful, and envious, 
and, as it is reported, his mother the duchess had 
much ado in her travail, and that he came into 
the world the feet forward, as men be borne out- 
ward, and, as the fame ran, not untoothed: whether 
that men of hatred reported above the truth, or 
that nature changed his course in his beginning 
which in his life many things unnaturally com- 
mitted, this I leave to God his judgment. He 
was none evil captain in war, as to the which his 
disposition was more inclined to than to peace. 
Sundry victories he had, and some overthrows, 
but never for default of his own person, either for 
lack of hardiness or politic order. Free he was 
of his dispenses, and somewhat above his power 
liberal ; with large gifts he got him unsteadfast 
friendship, for which cause he was fain to borrow, 
pill, and extort in other places, which got him 
steadfast hatred. He was close and secret, a deep 
dissimuler, lowly of countenance, arrogant of 
heart, outwardly familiar where he inwardly 
hated, not letting to kiss whom he thought to 
kill ; despiteous and cruel, not alway for evil will, 
but often for ambition and to serve his purpose ; 
friend and foe were all indifferent where his ad- 
vantage grew ; he spared no man's death whose 
life withstood his purpose. He slew in the Tower 
King Henry the Sixth, saying, Now is there no 
heir male of King Edward the Third but we of 
the house of York: which murder was done with- 
out King Edward his assent, which would have 
appointed that butcherly office to some other 
rather than to his own brother. Some wise men 
also wen that his drift lacked not in helping forth 
his own brother of Clarence to his death, which 
thing v to all appearance he resisted, although he 
inwardly minded it. And the cause thereof was, 
as men noting his doings and proceedings did 
mark, because that he long in King Edward his 
time thought to obtain the crown in case that the 
king his brother, whose life he looked that evil diet 
would soon shorten, should happen to decease, as 
he did indeed, his children being young. And then, 
if the Duke of Clarence had lived, his pretended 
purpose had been far hindered ; for if the Duke 
of Clarence had kept himself true to his nephew 
the young king, or would have taken upon him to 
be king, every one of these casts had been a trump 
in the Duke of Gloster's way : but when he was 
sure that his brother of Clarence was dead, then 
he knew he might work without that jeopardy. 
But of these points there is no certainty, and 
whosoever divineth or coujectureth may as well 
shoot too far as too short ; but this conjecture 
afterward took place (as few do), as you shall 
perceive hereafter." 

The "taking off" of Clarence is not imputed by 
258 



the old historians to Richard. At the time when 
Shakspere wrote, little more than a century after 
these events, it was probably usual to ascribe 
crimes which we have not even heard of to the 
usurper who had perished, and from whose trium- 
phant rival the reigning family had sprung. 
The history of the murder of Clarence is thus 
related : — 

" In the xvii year of King Edward there fell a 
sparkle of privy malice between the king and his 
brother the Duke of Clarence, whether it rose of 
old grudges before time passed, or were it newly 
kindled and set afire by the queen or her blood, 
which were ever mistrusting and privily barking 
at the king's lineage, or were he desirous to reign 
after his brother : to men that have thereof made 
large inquisition, of such as were of no small 
authority in those days, the certainty thereof was 
hid, and could not truly he disclosed but by con- 
jectures, which as often deceive the imaginations 
of fantastical folk, as declare truth to them in 
conclusion. The fame was that the king or the 
queen, or both, sore troubled with a foolish pro- 
phecy, and by reason thereof began to stomach 
and grievously to grudge against the duke : the 
effect of which was, after King Edward should 
reign one whose first letter of his name should be 
a G; and because the devil is wont with such witch- 
crafts to wrap and illaqueate the minds of men, 
which delight in such devilish fantasies, they said 
afterward that that prophecy lost not his effect, 
when after King Edward Gloster usurped his 
kingdom. 

" Other allege this to be the cause of his death : 
■ — That of late the old rancour between them being 
newly revived (the which between no creatures 
can be more vehement than between brethren, 
especially when it is firmly radicate), the duke, 
being destitute of a wife, by the means of Lady 
Margaret Duchess of Bouigoyne, his sister, pro- 
cured to have the Lady Mary, daughter and heir 
to Duke Charles her husband, to be given to him 
in matrimony ; which marriage King Edward 
(envying the felicity of his brother) both gain- 
said and disturbed. This privy displeasure was 
openly appeased, but not inwardly forgotten nor 
outwardly forgiven ; for that notwithstanding a 
servant of the duke's was suddenly accused (I 
cannot say of truth or untruly suspected by the 
duke's enemies) of poisoning, sorcery, or enchant- 
ment, and thereof condemned, and put to taste 
the pains of death. The duke, which might not 
suffer the wrongful condemnation of his man (as 
he in his conscience adjudged), nor yet forbear, 
nor patiently suffer the unjust handling of his 
trusty servant, daily did oppugn and with ill 
words murmur at the doing thereof. The king, 
much grieved and troubled with his brother's 
daily querimony and continual exclamation, caused 
him to be apprehended and cast into the Tower, 



KING EICHAED III. 



where he, being taken and adjudged for a traitor, 
was privily drowned in a butt of nialniesey. 

" But sure it is that although King Edward were 
consenting to his death and destruction, yet he 
much did both lament his unfortunate chance and 
repent his sudden execution; inasmuch that, when 
any person sued to him for pardon or remission of 
any malefactor condemned to the punishment of 
death, he would accustomably say, and openly 
speak, unfortunate brother, for whose life not 
one creature would make intercession ! openly 
speaking, and apparently meaning, that, by the 
means of some of the nobility, he was circum- 
vented and brought to his confusion." 

The marriage of Richard with the young widow 



of the son of Henry VI. is a remarkable circum 
stance, — as remarkable as the fact that he had 
afterwards obtained sufficient influence with the 
widow of Edward IV. to propose to marry her 
daughter Elizabeth. The wooing-scene with Anne 
is an example of the skill with which our great 
dramatist reconciles contradictions. If Richard 
were unsuspected by his wife to have murdered 
her husband and his father, it was not unnatural 
that she should have married him;— if she were 
cognizant of these actions, which the poet has 
represented she was, her disgust could only have 
been overcome by the profound dissimulation with 
which he has also shown her to be propitiated. 




lAr-ne, Q-een of Richarfi II J.] 




[Scene I. ' Kiug Edward led in sick." 



ACT IT. 



SCENE I.— The same. A Room in the Palace. 

Enter King Edward, {led in sick,) Queen Eli- 
zabeth, Dorset, Rivers, Hastings, Buck- 
ingham, Grey, and others. 

K. Edw. Why, so : — now have I done a good 

day's work; — 
You peers, continue this united league : 
I every day expect an embassage 
From my Redeemer to redeem me hence ; 
And now in peace a my soul shall part to 

heaven, 
Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. 
Rivers and Hastings, take each other's hand ; 
Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. 
Riv. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from 

grudging hate; 
And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. 

» So the quarto: tlif- folio has, more to peace. 
260 



Hast. So thrive T, as I truly swear the like ! 
K. Edw. Take heed you dally not before youi 
king; 
Lest He that is the supreme King of kings 
Confound your hidden falsehood, and award 
Either of you to be the other's end. 

Hast. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love ! 
Rio. And I, as I love Hastings with my 

heart ! 
A'. Edw. Madam, yourself are not exempt in 
this — 
Nor you, son Dorset, — Buckingham, nor you ; — 
You have been factious one against the other. 
Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand ; 
And what you do, do it unfeignedly. 

Q. Eli.:. There, Hastings ; — I will never more 
remember 
Our former hatred, so thrive I and mine ! 

K, Edw. Dorset, embrace him, —Hastings, 
love lord marquis. 



Act II.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



lScENE 1. 



Dor. This interchange of love, I here protest, 
Upon my part shall be inviolable. 

Hast. And so swear I. {Embraces Dorset. 
A". Edw. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou 
this league. 
With thy embracements to my wife's allies, 
And make me happy in your unity. 
Buck. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his 
hate 
Upon your grace, [to the Queen] but with all 

duteous love 
Doth cherish you, and yours, God punish me 
With hate in those where I expect most love ! 
When I have most need to employ a friend, 
And most assured that he is a friend, 
Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, 
Be he unto me ! this do I beg of heaven, 
When I am cold in love to you or yours. 

[Embracing Rivers, Sfc. 
K. Edw. A pleasing cordial, princely Buck- 
ingham, 
Ts this thy vow unto my sickly heart. 
There wanteth now our brother Gloster here, 
To make the blessed period of this peace. 

Buck. And, in good time, here comes the 
noble duke. a 

Enter Gloster. 

Glo. Good morrow to my sovereign king, and 
queen ; 
And, princely peers, a happy time of day ! 

K. Edw. Happy, indeed, as we have spent 
the day : 
Gloster, b we have done deeds of charity ; 
Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, 
Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. 

Glo. A blessed labour, my most sovereign 
lord. — 
Among this princely heap, if any here, 
By false intelligence or wrong surmise, 
Hold me a foe ; 

If I unwittingly, or in my rage, 
Have aught committed that is hardly borne 
By any in this presence, I desire 
To reconcile me to his friendly peace ; 
'T is death to me to be at enmity ; 
I hate it, and desire all good men's love. 
First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, 
Which 1 will purchase with my duteous service ; 
Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, 



s So the quartos ; the folio, 

" And, in good time, 
Here comes Sir Richard Ratcliffe and the duke." 

1) Gloster, in the folio ; the quartos, brother 
e Lord, in the folio ; the quartos, liege. 



If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us ; 
Of you, and you, lord Rivers, and of Dorset — 
That all without desert have frown' d on me ; — 
Of you, lord Woodville, and lord Scales, of 

you,— a 
Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of all, 
I do not know that Englishman alive 
With whom my soul is any jot at odds, 
More than the infant that is born to-night ; 
I thank my God for my humility. 

Q. El/2. A holy-day shall this be kept here, 
after : 
I would to God all strifes were well compounded. 
My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness 
To take our brother Clarence to your grace. 

Glo. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this, 
To be so flouted in this royal presence ? 
Who knows not that the gentle duke is dead ? - 

{They all start. 
You do him injury to scorn his corse. 

K. Edw. Who knows not he is dead ! who 
knows he is ? 

Q. Eliz. All-seeing heaven, what a world is 
this ! 

Buck. Look I so pale, lord Dorset, as the rest? 

Dor. Ay, my good lord ; and no man in the 
presence, 
But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. 

K Edw. Is Clarence dead ? the order was 
revers'd. 

Glo. But he, poor man, by your first order died, 
And that a winged Mercury did bear ; 
Some tardy cripple bore the countermand, 
That came too lace to see him buried : 
God grant that some, less noble and less loyal, 
Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood, 
Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, 
And yet go current from suspicion ! 

Enter Stanley. 

Stan. A boon, my sovereign, for my service 

done ! 
A'. Edw. I prithee, peace; my soul is fidl of 

sorrow. 
Stan. I will not rise unless your highness hear 

me. 
A". Edw. Then say at once, what is it thou 

recpiest'st. 
Stan. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's 

life: 
Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, 
Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk. 



a We print this passage as in the folio. The line in v.hich 
Lord Woodville and Lord Scales are named is not in the 
quartos. 

261 



i(T II. J 



KING RICHARD III 



[ScEXE II 



K. Edw. Have I a tongue to doom my bro- 
ther's death, 
And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave ? 
My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought, 
And yet his punishment was bitter death. 
Who sued to me for him ? who, in my wrath, 
Kneel* d at my feet, and bade me be advis'd ? 
Who spoke of brotherhood ? who spoke of love? 
Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake 
The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me ? 
Who told me in the field at Tewkesbury, 
AVhen Oxford had me down, he rescu'd me, 
And said, ' Dear brother, live, and be a king ? ' 
Who told me, when we both lay in the field, 
frozen almost to death, how he did lap me 
Even in his garments ; and did give himself, 
All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night ? 
All this from my remembrance brutish wrath 
Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you 
Had so much grace to put it in my mind. 
But, when your carters, or your waiting-vassals, 
Have done a drunken slaughter, and defae'd 
The precious image of our dear Redeemer, 
Yon straight are on your knees for pardon, 

pardon ; 
And I unjustly too, must grant it you : — ■ 
But for my brother not a man would speak, 
Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself 
Tor him, poor soul. The proudest of you all 
Have been beholden to him in his life ; 
Yet none of you would once plead for his life. 
O God ! I fear thy justice will take hold 
On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this. 
Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. 
Ah ! poor Clarence ! 

{Exeunt King, Queen, Hastings, Rivers, 
Dorset, and Grey. 
Glo. This is the fruit of rashness ! Mark'd 
you not 
How that the guilty kindred of the queen 
Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' 

death ? 
O ! they did urge it still unto the king : 
God will revenge it. Come, lords ; will you go, 
To comfort Edward with our company ? 
Buck. We wait upon your grace. {Exeunt. 



SCENE 11— The same. 

Hater the Duchess oe York, with a Son and 
Daughter of Clarence. 

Sou. Good grandam, tell us, is our father 

dead ? 
Duch. No, boy. 
2G2 



Daur/h. Why do you weep so oft? and beat 
your breast ; 
And cry — ' Clarence, my unhappy son ! ' 
Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your 
head, 
And call us orphans, wretches, cast-aways, 
If that our noble father were alive ? 

Duch. My pretty cousins, a you mistake me 
both ; 
I do lament the sickness of the king, 
As loth to lose him, not your father's death ; 
It were lost sorrow to wail one that 's lost. 
Son. Then you conclude, my grandam, he is 
dead 
The king my uncle is to blame for this : 
God will revenge it ; whom I will importune 
With earnest prayers all to that effect. 
Ba ugh. And so will I. 

Duch. Peace, children, peace ! the king doth 
love you well : 
Incapable and shallow innocents, 
You cannot guess who caus'd your father's 
death. 
Son. Grandam, we can : for my good unclc- 
Gloster 
Told me, the king, provok'd to 't by the queen, 
Devis'd impeachments to imprison him : 
Ami when my uncle told me so, he wept, 
And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my check ; 
Bade me rely on him as on my father, 
And he would love me dearly as his child. 

Duch. Ah, that deceit should steal such 
gentle shapes, 
And with a virtuous vizor hide deep vice ! 
He is my son, ay, and therein my shame, 
Yet from my dugs he drew not this deceit. 
Son. Think you my uncle did dissemble, 

grandam ? 
Duch. Ay, boy. 

Son. I cannot think it. Hark ! what noise is 
this ? 

Enter Queex Elizabeth, distractedly ; Rivers 
and Dorset following her. 

Q. Eli:. Ah ! who shall hinder me to wail 
and weep ? 
To chide my fortune, and torment myself? 
I'll join with black despair against my soul, 
And to myself become an enemy. 

Duch. What means this scene of rude impa- 
tience ? 
Q. Eliz. To make an act of tragic violence. 
Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. 



a Con tins — relations — kinsfolks. They are her grand 
children.. 



Act II.] 



KING KICHAED III. 



[SctNt II. 



Why grow the branches when the root is gone ? 
Why wither not the leaves that want their sap ? 
If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; 
That our swift-winged souls may catch the 

king's ; 
Or, like obedient subjects, follow him 
To his new kingdom of ne'er changing night. a 
Buck. Ah, so much interest have I in thy 
sorrow, 
As I had title in thy noble husband ! 
1 have bewept a worthy husband's death, 
And liv'd by looking on his images : 
But now, two mirrors of his princely semblance 
Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death ; 
And I for comfort have but one false glass, 
That grieves me when I see my shame in him. 
Thou art a widow ; yet thou art a mother, 
And hast the comfort of thy children left ; '' 
But death hath snatch'd my husband from mine 

arms, 
And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands, 
Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I, 
(Thine being but a moiety of my moan, ) 
To over-go thy woes, d and drown thy cries ? 
Son. Ah, aunt ! you wept not for our father's 
death ; 
llow can we aid you with our kindred tears ? 
Dauffh. Our fatherless distress was left iui- 
moan'd ; 
Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept ! 

Q. Eliz. Give me no help in lamentation ; 
I am not barren to bring forth complaints : e 
All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, 
That I, being govem'd by the watery moon. 
May send forth plenteous tears to drown the 

world ! 
Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward ! 
Chil. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord 

Clarence ! 
Duc/i. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and 

Clarence ! 
Q. Eliz. What stay had I but Edward ? and 

he's gone. 
Chil. What stay had we but Clarence ? and 

he 's gone. 
Buch. What stays had I but they ? and they 

are gone. 
Q. Eliz. Was never widow had so dear a loss. 
Chil. Were never orphans had so dear a loss. 
Duck. Was never mother had so dear a loss. 



" So the folio ; the quartos, perpetual rest. 

b The quartos read left thee. The folio omits thee. 

c Moan, in the folio; one of the quartos, grief. 

& Woes, in the folio ; the quarto, plaints. 

• Complaints, in the folio; the quartos, laments. 



Alas ! I am the mother of these griefs ; 
Their woes are parcell'd, mine are general. 
She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ; 
I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she ; 
These babes for Clarence weep, and so do 1 : 
I for an Edward weep, so do not they : a — 
Alas ! you three on me, threefold distress' d, 
Pour all your tears, I am your sorrow's nurse, 
And I will pamper it with lamentations. 

Bor. Comfort, dear mother : God is much 
displeas'd 
That you take with unthankfulness his doing ; 
In common worldly things 'tis called ungrate- 
ful, 
With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, 
Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent ; 
Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, 
For it requires the royal debt it lent you. 

Rio. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mo- 
ther, 
Of the young prince your son : send straight for 

him, 
Let him be crown'd ; in him your comfort lives : 
Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, 
And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. b 

Enter Gloster, Buckingham, Stanley, Hast- 
ings, Ratcliff, and others. 

Glo. Sister, have comfort : all of us have 
cause 
To wail the dimming of our sbiniug star ; 
But none can help our harms by wailing them. 
Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy, 
I did not see your grace : — Humbly on my knee 
I crave your blessing. 

Bach. God bless thee, and put meekness in 
*hy breast, 
Love, charity, obedience, and true duty ! 

Glo. Amen ; and make me die a good old 



man 



That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing ; 
I marvel that her grace did leave it out. [Aside. 
Back. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrow- 
ing peers, 
That bear this heavy mutual d load of moan, 
Now cheer each other in each other's love : 
Though we have spent our harvest of this king, 
We are to reap the harvest of his son. 



a This is the reading of the quarto of 1597. The folio has, 

" These habes for Clarence weep, so do not they." 

The portion of the text omitted evidently requires to be 
restored. 

b The preceding twelve lines are not found in the quartos. 

c Help our, in the folio ; the quartos, cure their. 

(1 Heavy mutual, in the folio ; the quartos have the wordi 
transposed. 

263 



Act II.] 



KING KICHAKD III. 



[Scene III 



The broken rancour of your high swoln hearts/" 
But lately splinter' d, knit, and join'd together. 
Must gently be preserv'd, cherish' d, and kept : 
Me scemcth good, that, with some little train, 
Forthwith from Ludlow the young king be fet * 
Hither to London, to be crown' d our king. 
Riv. Why with some little train, my lord of 

Buckingham ? 
Buck. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude, 
The new-heai'd wound of malice should break 

out; 
Which would be so much the more dangerous, 
By how much the estate is green and yet uu- 

govern'd : 
Where every horse bears his commanding 

rein, 
And may direct his course as please himself, 
As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, 
In my opinion, ought to be prevented. 

Glo. I hope the king made peace with all of 
us; 
And the compact is firm, and true, in me. 

Riv. And so in me ; and so, I think, in all : 
Yet, since it is but green, it should be put 
To no apparent likelihood of breach, 
Which, haply, by much company might be 

urg'd : 
Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham, 
That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. 
Hast. And so say I. b 

Glo. Then be it so ; and go we to determine 
Who they shall be that straight shall post to 

Ludlow. 
Madam, and you my sister, will you go 
To give your censures 3 in this weighty busi- 
ness? 
[Exeunt all but Buckingham and Gloster. 
Buck. My lord, whoever journeys to the 
prince, 
For God's sake, let not us two stay at home : 
For, by the way, I '11 sort occasion, 
As index to the story we late talk'd of, 
To part the queen's proud kindred from the 
prince. 
Glo. My other self, my counsel's consistory, 
My oracle, my prophet ! — My dear cousin, 
T, as a child, will go by thy direction. 
Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay be- 
hind. [Exeunt. 



a Hearts, in the quartos ; the folio, hates. Monck Mason 
objects that the poet, by " inadvertency," exhorts them to 
preserve the rancour of their hearts. It is surely the broken 
rancour, — the breaking up of their hates — that must be pre- 
served and cherished. 

b The preceding eighteen lines are not found in the quartos. 

c Sister, in the folio ; in the quartos, mother. 

d Censures — opinions. 

2G4 



SCENE III.— The same. A Street. 

Kdter two Citizens, meeting. 

1 Cit. Good morrow, neighbour: Whither 

away so fast ? 

2 Cit. I promise you, I scarcely know myself : 
Hear you the news abroad ? 

1 Cit. Yes ; that the king is dead. 

2 Cit. Ill news, by 'r lady ; seldom comes the 

better : 
I fear, I fear, 't will prove a giddy world. 

Enter another Citizen. 

3 Cit. Neighbours, God speed ! 

1 Cit. Give you good morrow, sir. 
3 Cit. Doth the news hold of good king Ed- 
ward's death ? 

2 Cit. Ay, sir, it is too true ; God help, the 

while ! 

3 Cit. Then, masters, look to see a troublous 

world. 

1 Cit. No, no ; by God's good grace his son 

shall reign. 
3 Cit. Woe to that land that 's govern' d by a 
child ! 

2 Cit. In him there is a hope of government : 
That in his nonage council under him, 

And in his full aud ripen'd years himself, 
No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. 
1 Cit. So stood the state when Henry the 
Sixth 
Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. 

3 Cit. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends. 

God wot ; 
For then this land was famously enrich' d 
With pobtic grave counsel ; then the king- 
Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. 

1 Cit. Why, so hath this, both by his father 

and mother. 
3 Cit. Better it were they all came by his 
father; 
Or, by his father, there were none at all : 
For emulation who shall now be nearest, 3. 
Will touch us all too near, if God prevent not. 
0, full of danger is the duke of Gloster ; 
And the queen's sons and brothers haught and 

proud : 
And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, 
This sickly land might solace as before. 

1 Cit. Come, come, we fear the worst ; all will 

be well. 
3 Cit. When clouds are seen wise men put 
on their cloaks ; 

" We give the reading of the folio. The quartos have, 
" For emulation now who shall be nearest. " 



Act II. J 



KING RICHARD III. 



fSfBNE IV. 



When great leaves fall then winter is at hand ; 
When the sun sets who doth not look for night ? 
Untimely storms make men expect a dearth : 
All may be well; but, if God sort it so, 
'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. 

2 Cit. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear : 
You cannot reason a almost with a man 

That looks not heavily and full of dread. 

3 Cit. Before the days of change, still is it so : 
By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust 
Ensuing danger ; as, by proof, we see 

The waters swell before a boist'rous storm. 
But leave it all to God. Whither away ? 

2 Cit. Marry, we were sent for to the justices. 

3 Cit. And so was I ; I '11 bear you company. 

[Exeunt, 

SCENE IV.— The same. A Room in the Palace. 

Eater the Archbishop of York, the young Duke 
or York, Queen Elizabeth, and the Duchess 
of York. 

Arch. Last night, I heard, they lay at Stony- 
Stratford ; 
And at Northampton they do rest to-night : b 
To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 
Duch. I long with all my heart to see the 
prince. 
I hope he is much grown since last I saw him. 
Q. Eliz. But I hear, no ; they say, my son of 
York 
Hath almost over-ta'en him in his growth. 
York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. 
Ditch. Why, my good cousin ? it is good to 

grow. 
York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at 
supper, 
My uncle Bivers talk'd how I did grow 
More than my brother ; ' Ay,' quoth my uncle 

Gloster, 
1 Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow 

apace : ' 
And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, 
Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make 
haste. 
Duch. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did 
not hold 
In him that did object the same to thee : 
lie was the wretched'st thing, when he was 
young, 

a Reason — converse. 

I) This is the reading of the folio. The quarto of 1597 has, 
" Last night, I hear, they lay at Northampton; 
At Stony- Stratford will they he to-night." 
Steevens and Malone have a fierce controversy as to the 
value of the respective readings.— (See Historical Illustra- 
tion. ) 



So long a growing, and so leisurely, 
That, if his ride were true, he should be gracious. 
Arch. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious 

madam. 
Duch. I hope he is; but yet let mothers 

doubt. 
York. Now, by my troth, if I had been re- 
member' d, 
I cotdd have given my uncle's grace a flout, 
To touch his growth nearer than he touch'd mine. 
Duch. How, my young York? I prithee let 

me hear it. 
York. Marry, they say, my uncle grew so fast, 
That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old ; 
'T was full two years ere I could get a tooth. 
Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. 
Duch. I prithee, pretty York, who told thee 

this ? 
York. Grandam, his nurse. 
Duch. His nurse ! why, she was dead ere 

thou wast born. 
York. If 't were not she I cannot tell who told 

me. 
Q. Eliz. A parlous boy : Go to, you are too 

shrewd. 
Arch. Good madam, be not angry with the 

child. 
Q. Eli:. Pitchers have ears. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Arch. Here comes a messenger : 

What news ? 
Mess. Such news, my lord, 

As grieves me to reports 

Q. Eliz. How doth the prince ? 

Mess. Well, madam, and in health. 

Duch . What is thy news ? 

Mess. Lord Bivers, and Lord Grey, are sent to 
Pomfret, 
And with them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. 

Duch. Who hath committed them ? 

Mess. The mighty dukes, 

Gloster and Buckingham. 

Arch. Eor what offence ? 

Mess. The sum of all I can I have disclos'd ; 
Why, or for what, the nobles were committed, 
Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord. b 

Q. Eliz. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house ! 
The tiger now 'hath seiz'd the gentle hind ; 
Insulting tyranny begins to jut 
Upon the innocent and awless throne : 



8 Report, in the folio; the quartos, unfold. 

b Lord, in the folio ; the quartos, lady. The correction is 
necessary, for in all the old copies the Archbishop asks the 
question to which this is an answer. 

265 



Act II J 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scene IV. 



Welcome, destruction, blood, and massacre ! 
I see, as in a map, the end of all. 

Buck. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days, 
How many of you have mine eyes beheld ! 
My husband lost his life to get the crown ; 
And often up and down my sons were toss'd, 
For me to joy, and weep, their gain and loss : 
And being seated, and domestic brawls 
Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, 
Make war upon themselves ; brother to brother, 
Blood to blood, self against self : 0, preposterous 
And frantic outrage,* end thy damned spleen : 
Or let me die, to look on death b no more ! 

a The quarto of 1597 and tlie folio agree in reading out- 
rage; some of the other old editions have courage. 

b Death is the reading of the quarto of 1397 ; the other 
quartos and the folio have earth. 



Q. Miz. Come, come, my boy, we will to 
sanctuary. 
Madam, farewell. 

Buck. Stay, I will go with you. 

Q. Eliz. You have no cause. 

Arch. My gracious lady, go, 

[To the Queen. 
And thither bear your treasure and your goods. 
For my part, I '11 resign unto your grace 
The seal I keep : And so betide to me, 
As well I tender you, and all of yours ! 
Go, a I '11 conduct you to the sanctuary. 

[Exeunt 

■' Go, in the folio ; the quart js, come. 




.J^ACKSon ; 



[Scene III. ' Neighbours, God spe-jd.'] 




[Ludlow Castle. J 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT II. 



1 Scexe II. — " Me sccmeth good, that, with some 

little train, 
Forthwith from Ludloio the young prince be fet." 

Ludlow Castle was the ancient palace of tbe 
Princes of Wales, attached to the principality. 
Prince Edward was residing here under the govern- 
ance of Earl Rivers, his maternal uncle. The 
castle is stated to have been founded on its rocky 



ridge in the reign of Henry I. It is now ruinous 
and deserted ; but its associations are of the most 
enduring nature. " With whatever feats of chi- 
valry it might have been anciently ennobled, the 
representation of 'Comus' in this stately fortress 
will ever be mentioned as one of the most memo- 
rable and honourable circumstances in the course 
of its history."* 

* J. W.irton. Milton's Minor Poems 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT II. 




[Tomb of Edward IV. at Windsor.] 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



The death of Edward IV. Was at once succeeded 
by the most decided movement on the part of 
Richard. He, in coucert with Buckingham, assem- 
bled a large body of followers, and reached the 
young king at Stony-Stratford, on his way to Lon- 
don. They arrested his followers, and carried him 
back to Northampton. The scene is thus described 
by Hall :— 

"And forthwith they arrested the Lord Richard, 
and Sir Thomas Vaughan, and Sir Richard Hawte, 
knights, in the king's presence, and brought the 
king and all back to Northampton, where they took 
further counsel in their affairs ; and there they sent 
from the king whom it pleased them, and set about 
him such servants as better pleased them than him ; 
at which dealing he wept and was not content, but 
it booted not. And at dinner the duke of Gloster 
sent a dish from his own table to the Lord Rivers, 
praying him to be of good cheer, and all should be 
268 



well j he thanked him, and prayed the messenger 
to bear it to his nephew the Lord Richard, with like 
words, whom he knew to have need of comfort, as 
one to whom such adversity was strange ; but he 
himself had been all his days enured therewith, 
and therefore could bear it the better. But for all 
this message, the Duke of Gloster sent the Lord 
Rivers, the Lord Richard, and Sir Thomas Vaughan, 
and Sir Richard Hawte, into the north parts, into 
divers prisons ; but at last all came to Pomfret, 
where they all four were beheaded without judg- 
ment." 

The flight of the queen to sanctuary is thus most 
graphically described by the Chronicler; There is 
a quiet power in the concluding sentence, " The 
queen sat alone below on the rushes, all desolate 
and dismayed," which is akin to the highest 
poetry :— 

" 'Whereupon the bishop called up all his servants 



KING RICHARD III. 



and took with him the great seal, and came before 
day to the queen, about whom he found much hea- 
viness, rumble, haste, business, conveyance and 
carriage of her stuff into sanctuary ; every man 
was busy to carry, bear, and convey stuff, chests 



and fardeUs ; no man was unoccupied, and some 
carried more than they were commanded to another 
place. The queen sat alone below on the rushes, 
all desolate and dismayed, whom the archbishop 
comforted in the best manner that he could." 




[The Sanctuary at Westminster.] 




[Scene III. Pouifret.] 



ACT III. 



SCENE I— London. A Street. 



The trumpets sound. Enter the Prince of 
Wales, Gloster, Buckingham, Cardinal 
Bourchiek, and others. 

Buck. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to 

your chamber. 1 
Glo. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' 
sovereign : 
The weary way hath made you melancholy. 
Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the 
way 
Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy : 
I want more uncles here to welcome me. 

Glo. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of 
your years 
Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit : 
No more can you distinguish of a man 
Than of his outward show; which, God he 

knows, 
Seldom or never jumpeth with the heart. 
Those uncles which you want were dangerous ; 
Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, 
270 



But look'd not on the poison of their hearts : 
God keep you from them, and from such false 
friends ! 
Prince. God keep me from false friends ! but 

they were none. 
Glo. My lord, the mayor of London comes 
to greet you. 

Enter the Lord Mayor, and his Train. 

May. God bless your grace with health and 

happy days ! 
Prince. I thank you, good my lord;— and 
thank you all— [Exeunt Mayor, See- 
I thought my mother and my brother York 
Would long ere this have met us on the way : 
Fie, what a slug is Hastings ! that he comes not 
To tell us whether they will come, or no. 

Enter Hastings. 

Buck. And in good time, here comes the 

sweating lord. 
Prince. Welcome, my lord: What, will our 

mother come ? 



Act III.] 



KING EICHAKD III. 



[Scene 1 



Hast. On what occasion, God he knows, 
not I, 
The queen your mother, and your brother York, 
Have taken sanctuary : The tender prince 
Would fain have come with me to meet your 

grace, 
But by his mother was perforce witheld. 
Buck. Fie ! what an indirect and peevish 
course 
Is this of hers ! — Lord cardinal, will your 

grace 
Persuade the queen to send the duke of York 
Unto his princely brother presently ? 
If she deny, lord Hastings, go with him, 
And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. 
Card. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak 
oratory 
Can from his mother win the duke of York, 
Anon expect him here : But if she be obdurate 
To mild entreaties, God in heaven ° forbid 
We should infringe the holy privilege 
Of blessed sanctuary ! not for all this land 
Would I be guilty of so great b a sin. 
Buck. You are too senseless-obstinate, my 
lord, 
Too ceremonious and traditional : 
Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, 
You break not sanctuary in seizing him. 
The benefit thereof is always granted 
To those whose dealings have deserved the 

place, 
And those who have the wit to claim the 

place : 
This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd 

it; 
And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it : 
Then, taking him from thence, that is not there, 
You break no privilege nor charter there. 
Oft have I heard of sanctuary men ; 
But sanctuary children ne'er till now. 

Card. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind 
for once. 
Come on, lord Hastings, will jou go with me ? 
Hast. I go, my lord. 

Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste 
you may. 

[Exeunt Cardinal and Hastings. 
Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, 
Where shall we sojourn till our coronation ? 
Glo. Where it seems best unto your royal 
self. 
If I may counsel you, some day or two 

a In heaven is omitted in the folio, and in one of ttie 
•juartoa. 
b Great, in the folio; deep, in one of the quartos. 
c Seems, in the early quartos; think' st, in the folio. 



Your highness shall repose you at the Tower : 
Then where you please, and a shall be thought 

most fit 
For your best health and recreation. 

Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any 
place : — 
Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord ? 

Glo. He did, my gracious lord, begin thai 
place ; 
Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. 

Prince. Is it upon record ? or else reported 
Successively from age to age, he built it ? 

Buck. Upon record, my gracious lord. 

Prince. But say, my lord, it were not regis- 
tered ; 
Methinks, the truth should live from age to age, 
As 't were retaiPd b to all posterity, 
Even to the general all-ending day, 

Glo. So wise so young, they say, do never 
live long. [Aside. 

Prince. What say you, uncle ? 

Glo. I say, without characters," fame lives 
Ions;. 
Thus, like the formal Vice Iniquity, 2 ) r / • / 
I moralize two meanings in one word. d j 

Prince. That Julius Caesar was a famous man: 
With what his valour did enrich his wit, 
His wit set down to make lib valour live : 
Death makes no conquest of this conqueror ; 
For now he lives in fame, though not in life. — 
I '11 tell you what, my cousin Buckingham. 

Buck. What, my gracious lord ? 

Prince. An if I live until 1 be a man, 
I 11 win our ancient right in France again, 
Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king. 

Glo. Short summers lightly 6 have a forward 
spring. \_Aside. 



^ Where is understood here; if it were repeated there 
would be no difficulty in the construction of the sentence. 

b Retail'd. In the fourth act this verb is again used with 
the same meaning: — 

" To whom I will retail my conquest won." 

Retail and detail, according to Tooke, are both derived from 
tale — the past participle of the Anglo Saxon verb tell-an, to 
tell. The tale is something told, as in the well-known pas- 
sage in Milton's 'L'AUegro : ' — 

" And every shepherd tells his tale." 

This is not — tells his story— but counts over the number of 
his sheep as he lets them out of their fold, in the earliest 
hour of the morning. So to retail is to tell over again ; and 
the word became applied to small tradings, because to sell by 
tale is to sell by numeration, and \heretail was therepetition 
of the numeration. In Lord Berners' 'Froissart' w^-find 
merchandize "taled and retaled." The truth "retail'd to 
all posterity " is the truth retold to all posterity. 

c Without characters— without the help of letters. 

d The equivocation which Richard uses consists in the 
repetition of the words "live long," which the Prince has 
caught, but with a different " meaning." He has moralized 
" two meanings" by retaining the same conclusion of his 
sentence, or "word." For an Illustration of "the formal 
Vice Iniquity," see the end of this Act. 

e Lightly— common'y. 

271 



Act III.] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene I. 



Enter York, Hastings, and the Cardinal. 

Buck. Now, in good time, here conies the 

duke of York. 
Prince. Richard of York ! how fares our no- 
ble a brother ? 
York. Well, my dread* lord ; so must I call 

you now. 
Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is 

yours : 
Too late c he died, that might have kept that 

title, 
Which by his death hath lost much majesty. 
Glo. How fares our cousin, noble lord of 

York ? 
York. I thank you, gentle uncle. 0, my lord, 
You said, that idle weeds are fast in growth : 
The prince my brother hath outgrown me far. 
Glo. He hath, my lord. 
York. And therefore is he idle ? 

Glo. 0, my fan- cousin, I must not say so. 
York. Then he is more beholden to you than I. 
Glo. He may command me, as my sovereign ; 
But you have power in me, as in a kinsman. 
York. I pray you, uncle, d give me this dag- 
ger. 
Glo. My dagger, little cousin ? with all my 

heart. 
Prince. A beggar, brother ? 
York. Of my kind uncle, that I know will 

give; 
And, being but a toy, which is no grief to give. 
Glo. A. greater gift than that I '11 give my 

cousin. 
York. A greater gift ? 0, that 's the sword 

to it. 
Glo. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. 
York. then, I see, you will part but with 

light gifts ; 
In weightier things you '11 say a beggar, nay. 
Glo. It is too weighty for your grace to wear. 
York. I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. 
Glo. What, woidd you have my weapon, 

little lord ? 
York. I would, that I might thank you as 

you call me. 
Glo. How ? 
York. Little. 



* Noble, in the folio; one of the quartos, loving. 
b Dread, in one of the quartos ; in the folio, dear. 



The 



epithet dread requires to he retained, for " dear lord " would 
not mark the new title by which York addresses his brother 

/on/being the title by which York is himself subsequently 

named. Dread, most dread, was a kingly epithet— Rex 
metuendissimus. 

c Late— lately. 

d Here the 'vord then has been thrust in, " for the sake 
of metre." 

272 



Prince. My lord of York will still be cross in 
talk ; 
Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. 
York. You mean, to bear me, not to bear with 
me : 
Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me ; 
Because that I am little, like an ape, 
He thinks that you should bear me on your 
shoulders. 
Buck. With what a sharp-provided wit he 
reasons ! 
To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, 
He prettily and aptly taunts himself : 
So cunning, and so young, is wonderful. 

Glo. My lord, a will 't please you pass along ? 
Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham, 
Will to your mother, to entreat of her 
To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. 
York. What, will you go unto the Tower, my 

lord ? 
Prince. My lord protector needs will have it 

so. 
York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. 
Glo. Why, what should you fear ? b 
York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost ? 
My grandam told me he was murther'd there. 
Prince. I fear no uncles dead. 
Glo. Nor none that live, I hope. 
Prince. An if they live, I hope I need not 
fear. 
But come, my lord, and, with a heavy heart, 
Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower. 

[Exeunt Prince, York, Hastings, 
Cardinal, and Attendants. 
Buck. Think you, my lord, this little prating 
York ' 
Was not incensed by his subtle mother, 
To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously ? 
Glo. No doubt, no doubt : O, ' tis a parlous 
boy; 
Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable ; 
He 's all the mother's, from the top to toe. 

Buck. Well, let them rest. 
.Come hither, Catesby; thou art sworn 
As deeply to effect what we intend, 
As closely to conceal what wc impart : 
Ttiou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the 

way : 
What think'st thou? is it not an easy matter 



" Gracious is sometimes introduced, without any autho- 
rity. 

b Hanmer reads, "Why, sir, what should you fear; " 
which is found in most editions before that of Malone, who 
very justly repudiates the notion "that every word, and 
every short address of three or four words, are to be consi- 
bered as parts of metrical verses." 

c Incensed — incited. 



Act III.] 



KING KICHARD III. 



[Scene II 



To make William lord Hastings of our mind, 
For the instalment of this noble duke 
In the seat royal of this famous isle ? 

Cate. He, for his father's sake, so loves the 
prince, 
That he will not be won to aught against him. 
Buck. What think'st thou then of Stanley ? 

will not he ? 
Cate. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. 
Buck. Well then, no more but this : Go, 
gentle Catesby, 
And, as it were far off, sound thou lord Hastings 
How he doth stand affected to our purpose ; 
And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, 
To sit about the coronation. 3 
If thou dost find him tractable to us, 
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons : 
If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, 
Be thou so too ; and so break off the talk, 
And give us notice of his ineliuation : 
For we to-morrow hold divided councils, 
Wherein thyself shalt highly be employed. 
Glo. Commend me to lord William : tell him, 
Catesby, 
His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries 
To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle ; 
And bid my lord, b for joy of this good uews, 
Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. 
Buck. Good Catesby, go, effect this business 

soundly. 
Cate. My good lords both, with all the heed 

I can. 
Glo. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we 

sleep ? 
Cate. You shall, my lord. 
Glo. At Crosby-house there shall you find us 
both. 3 [Exit Catesby. 

Buck. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we 
perceive 
Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots ? 
Glo. Chop off his head ; — something we will 
determine : c — 
And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me 
The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables 
Whereof the king my brother was possess'd. 
Buck. I'll claim that promise at your grace's 

hand. 
Glo. And look to have it yielded with all kind- 
ness. 



a These two lines are not in the quartos. 

b Lord, in the folio ; in the quartos, friend. 

c This is the reading of the folio. That of the quartos is— 

" Chop off his head, man ; — somewhat we will do." 

It is difficult not to have a leaning to the text of the quartos, 
(the received one,) with which we have so long been familiar; 
but, on the other hand, it is impossible to believe that the 
correction came from any hand but that of the author. 

Histories.— Vol. II. T 



Come, let us sup betimes ; that afterwards 
We may digest our complots in some form. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE IL— Before Lord Hastings' House. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. My lord, my lord ! [Knocking. 

Hast. \ Within.] Who knocks ? 

Mess. One from the lord Stanley. 

Hast. [Within.] What is 't o'clock ? 

Mess. Upon the stroke of four. 

Enter Hastings. 

Hast. Cannot my lord Stanley s'ecp these 
tedious nights ? a 

Mess. So it appears b by that I have to say. 
First, he commends him to your noble self. 

Hast. What then? 

Mess. Then certifies your lordship, that this 
night 
He dreamt the boar had rased off his helm : '' 
Besides, he says, there are two councils kept ; e 
And that may be determin'd at the one, 
Which may make you and him to rue at th' other. 
Therefore he sends to know your lordship's plea- 
sure, — 
If you will presently f take horse with him, 
And with all speed post with him toward the 

north, 
To slum the danger that his soul divines. 

Hast. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord : 
Bid him not fear the separated councils : 
His honour and myself are at the one, 
And at the other is my good friend Catesby ; 
Where nothing can proceed that toucheth us 
Whereof I shall not have intelligence. 
Tell him, his fears are shallow, without g instance : 
And, for his dreams, I wonder he 's so simple '* 
To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers : 
To fly the boar, before the boar pursues, 
Were to incense the boar to follow us, 
And make pursuit where he did mean no chase. 



a So the folio. The quartos, 

" Cannot thy master sleep these tedious nights I " 
h Appears, in the folio ; the quartos, should seem. 
c Keif, in the folio; the quartos, lordship. 
d This is the reading of the folio. That of the quartos 

" And then he sends you word 
He dreamt to night the boar had rased his helm." 

° Kept, in the folio; the quartos, held. 

t So the folio; the quartos, presently, you will. 

S The folio, without; the quartos, wanting. The word 
instance signifies here, as in other passages of Shakspere, 
example, fact in proof, corroboration. So in the Merry 
Wives of Windsor, "My desires had instance and argu- 
ment to commend themselves." 

h Simple, in the folio ; the quartos, fond. 

273 



Acr III.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scene U. 



Go, bid thy master rise and come to me ; 
And we will both together to the Tower, 
Where, he shall see, the boar will use us kindly. 
Mess. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you 
say. [Exit. 

Enter Catesby. 

Cate. Many good morrows to my noble lord ! 
Hast. Good morrow, Catesby ; you are early 
stirring : 
What news, what news, in this our tottering 
state ? 
Cate. It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord ; 
And I believe will never stand upright, 
Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. 
Hast. How ! wear the garland ! dost thou 

mean the crown ? 
Cate. Ay, my good lord. 
Hast. I '11 have this crown of mine cut from 
my shoulders 
Before I '11 see the crown so foul misplac'd. 
But can'st thou guess that he doth aim at it ? 
Cate. Ay, on my life ; and hopes to find you 
forward 
Upon his party, for the gain thereof : 
And, thereupon, he sends you this good news, — 
That, this same very day, your enemies, 
The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. 
Hast. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, 
Because they have been still my adversaries : 
But, that I '11 give my voice on Richard's side, 
To bar my master's heirs in true descent, 
God knows, I will not do it, to the death. 

Cate. God keep your lordship in that gracious 

mind ! 
Hast. But I shall laugh at this a twelve- 
month hence, 
That they which brought me in my master's hate, 
I live to look upon their tragedy. 
Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, 
I '11 send some packing that yet think not on't. 
Cate. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious 
lord, 
When men are unprepar'd and look not for it. 
Hast. O monstrous, monstrous ! and so falls 
it out 
With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey : and so 't will do 
With some men else, who think themselves as 

safe 
As thou and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear 
To princely Richard, and to Buckingham. 

Cate. The princes both make high account of 
you — 
For they account his head upon the bridge. 

[Aside. 
27-i 



Hast. I know they do; and I have well de- 
serv'd it. 

Enter Stanley. 

Come on, come on ; where is your boar-spear, 

man? 
Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided ? 
Stan. My lord, good morrow ; and good mor- 
row, Catesby : — 
You may jest on, but, by the holy rood, 
I do not like these several councils, I. 

Hast. My lord, I hold my life as dear as 

yours f. 
Aud never, in my days, b I do protest, 
Was it so precious to me as 't is now :o 
Think you, but that I know our state secure, 
I would be so triumphant as I am ? 

Stan. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode 

from London, 
Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were 

sure, 
And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust ; 
But yet, you see, how soon the day o'er-cast. 
This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt ; 
Pray God, I say, I prove a needless coward ! 
What, shall we toward the Tower ? the day is 

spent. 
Hast. Come, come, have with you. — Wot you 

what, my lord ? 
To-day the lords you talk of are beheaded. 
Stan. They, for their truth, might better wear 

their heads, 
Than some that have accused them wear their 

hats. 
But coins my lord, let's away. 

Enter a Pursuivant. 

Hast. Go on before, I '11 talk with this good 

fellow. [Exeunt Stan, and Catesby. 

How now, sirrah ? how goes the world with thee ? 

Purs. The better that your lordship please to 

ask. 
Hast. I tell thee, man, 't is better with me 
now, 
Than when thou met 'st me last where now we 

meet: 
Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, 
By the suggestion of the queen 's allies ; 
But now, 1 teli thee, (keep it to thyself,) 



a The quart oa have, "My lord, I hold my life as dear as 
you do yours." 

I> Days, in the folio; in the quartos, life. This is one of 
the very numerous instances of the minute accuracy with 
which the text of the folio had been revised. Days is evi- 
dently substituted for life, to avoid the repetition of that 
word, which occurs in the preceding line. 

c So the folio. The quartos, 

" Was it mure precious to me lhan 't is now " 



Act III. J 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scenes III., IV. 



This day those enemies are put to death, 
And I in better state than ere I was. 

Purs. God hold it, to your honour's good con- 
tent ! 
Hast. Gramercy, fellow : There, drink that 
for me. [Throwing him Ids purse. 

Purs. I thank your honour. 

[Exit Pursuivant. 

Enter a Priest. 

Pr. Well met, my lord ; I am glad to see 

your honour. 
Hast. I thank thee, good sir John, with all 
my heart. 
I am in your debt for your last exercise ; 
Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. 
Pr. 1 '11 wait upon your lordship. 11 

Enter Buckingham. 

Buck. What, talking with a priest, lord cham- 
berlain ? 
Your friends at Pomfret they do need the priest ; 
Your honour hath no shriving work in hand. 
Hast. 'Good faith, and when I met this holy 
man, 
The men you talk of came into my mind. 
What, go you toward the Tower ? 

Buck. I do, my lord ; but long I cannot stay 
there : 
I shall return before your lordship thence. 
Hast. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there. 
Buck. And supper too, although thou know'st 
it not. [Aside. 

Come, will you go ? 

Hast. I '11 wait upon your lordship. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE III.— Pomfret. Be/ore the Castle. 

Enter Ratcliff, with a guard, conducting Rivers, 
Grey, and Vaughan, to execution. 

Riv. Sir Richard Ratcliff, let me tell thee 
this, — 
To-day shalt thou behold a subject die, 
For truth, for duty, and for loyalty . b 

Grey. God keep the prince from all the pack 
of you! 
A knot you are of damned blood-suckers. 

Faugh. You live that shall cry woe for this 
hereafter. 



a Tl.is line in the folio is not found in the quartos. _ 
b In the quartos this scene opens with Ratcliff exclaiming 
" Come, bring forth the prisoners." The stage-direction of 
the folio is, " Enter Sir Richard Ratcliff, with halberds, car- 
rying the nobles to death at Pomfret." The line is therefore 
clearly unnecessary. 

T 2 



Rat. Despatch ; the limit of your lives is out. 
Riv. O Pomfret, Pomfret ! O thou bloody 
prison, 
Fatal and ominous to noble peers ! 
Within the guilty closure of thy walls 
Richard the Second here was hack'd to death : 
And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, 
We give to thee our guiltless blood to drink. 
Greg. Now Margaret's curse is fallen upon 
our heads, 
When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, 
For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. 
Riv. Then curs'd she Richard, then curs'd she 
Buckingham, 
Then curs'd she Hastings : — 0, remember, God,' 
To hear her prayer for them, as now for us ! 
And for my sister, and her princely sons, 
Be satisfied, dear God, with our true blood, 
Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt ! 
Rat. Make haste, the hour of death is ex- 

piate. a 
Riv. Come, Grey, — come Vaughan, — let us 
here embrace : 
Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. 

[ Exeunt. 

SCENE IV. — London. A Room in the Tower _ 

Buckingham, Stanley, Hastings, the Bishop 
of Ely, Ratcliff, Lovel, and others, sitting 
at a table : officers of the council attending. 

Hast. Now, noble peers, the cause why we 
are met 
Is, to determine of the coronation : 
In God's name, speak, when is the royal day ? 
Buck. Are all things ready for that royal time ? 
Stan. They are ; and wants but nomination. 
Ely. To-morrow then I judge a happy day. 
Buck. Who knows the lord protector's mind 
herein ? 
Who is most inward with the noble duke ? 
Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest 

know his mind. 
Buck. We know each other's faces : for our 
hearts, 
He knows no more of mine than I of yours ; 
Nor I of his, my lord, than you of mine : 
Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. 



a Expiate. This word does not occur in the quartos. Tim 
second folio reads, "the hour of death is now expired.' 
However forced the meaning of expiate may be, Shaksperc- 
has used it in his 22nd Sonnet, in a similar manner : — 

" My glass shall not persuade me I am old, 
So long as youth and thou are of one date; 
But when in thee time's furrows I behold. 
Then look I death my days should expiate." 

Expirale was the reading of Steevens. 

275 



=J 



Act III.] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene IV. 



Hast. I thank his grace, I know he loves me 

well : 
But, for his purpose in the coronation, 
I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd 
His gracious pleasure any way therein : 
But you, my honourable lords, 8 may name the 

time ; 
And in the duke's behalf I '11 give my voice, 
Which, I presume, he '11 take in gentle part. 

Enter Gloster. 

Ely. In happy time, here comes the duke 

himself. 
Glo. My noble lords and cousins all, good 
morrow : 
I have been long a sleeper ; but, I trust, 
My absence doth neglect no great design, 
Which by my presence might have been con- 
cluded. 
Buck. Had you not come upon your cue, my 
lord, 
William lord Hastings had pronounc'd your 

part, — 
I mean, your voice, — for crowning of the king. 
Glo. Than my lord Hastings no man might 
be bolder; 
His lordship knows me well, and loves me 

well. 
My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, 
I saw good strawberries in your garden there ; 
I do beseech you send for some of them. 4 
Ely. Marry and will, my lord, with all my 
heart. [Exit Ely. 

Glo. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. 

[Takes him aside. 
Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business ; 
And finds the testy gentleman so hot 
That he will lose his head, ere give consent 
His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, 
Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. 
Buck. Withdraw yourself awhile, I'll go with 
you. 
[Exeunt Gloster and Buckingham. 
Stan. We have not yet set down this day of 
triumph. 
To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden ; 
For I myself am not so well provided, 
As else I would be, were the day prolong'd. 

Re-enter Bisnor of Ely. 

Ely. Where is my lord the duke of Glostcr ? 
I have sent for these strawberries. b 



a Honourable lords, in the folio; in the quartos, noble 
lord. 

b In the quartos we have, "Where is my lord pro- 
tector I " 

27G 



Hast. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth 
this morning ; 
There 's some conceit or other likes him well, 
When that he bids a good-morrow with such 

spirit. 
I think there 's ne'er a man in Christendom, 
Can lesser hide his love or hate than he ; 
For by his face straight shall you know his heart. 
Stan. What of his heart perceive you in his 
face, 
By any livelihood b he show'd to-day ? 

Hast. Marry, that with no man here he is 
offended ; 
For were he, he had shown it in his looks. 

Re-enter Gloster and Buckingham. 

Glo. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve 
That do conspire my death with devilish plots 
Of damned witchcraft ; and that have prevail'd 
Upon my body with their hellish charms ? 
Hast. The tender love I bear your grace, my 
lord, 
Makes me most forward in this princely" pre- 
sence 
To doom the offenders, whosoe'er they be : 
I say, my lord, they have deserved death. 

Glo. Then be your eyes the witness of their 
evil ! 
Look how I am bewitch'd ; behold mine arm 
Is, like a blasted sapling, wither'd up : 
And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch. 
Consorted with that harlot-strumpet Shore, 
That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. 
Hast. If they have done this deed, my noble 

lord,— 
Glo. If ? thou protector of this damned 
strumpet, 
Talk'st thou to me of ifs ?— Thou art a traitor : — 
Off with his head : — now, by Saint Paul I swear, 
I will not dine until I see the same. 
Lovel and Ratcliff,* 1 look that it be done ; 



a That lie bids, in the folio ; in the Quartos, he doth bid. 

i> Livelihood. So the folio. The meaning is perfectly clenr, 
the word being used in the same sense as in All 's Well that 
Ends Well (Act i. Sc. i.)— "The tyranny of her sorrows 
takes all livelihood from her cheek." Stanley asks how they 
interpret Gloster's livelihood, liveliness, cheerfulness. And 
yet some modern editors prefer the tame reading of the 
quartos, likelihood, which they interpret as appearance, and 
thus perpetuate what was no doubt a typographical error. 

c Princely, in the folio ; the quartos, noble. 

d Instead of this line of the folio text, we have in the 
quartos, " some see it done." The stage-direction of the 
quarto is, "Manet Ca. with Hast.," and Catesby subse- 
quently speaks the two lines which in the folio are given to 
Ratcliff. The line which Lovel speaks is not found in the 
quartos. In modern editions Catesby was substituted for 
Ratcliff, and we read, — 

" Lovel and Catesby, look that it be done." 
The change was made to avoid the apparent impossibility 
of Ratcliff, who in the preceding scene is attending the 
execution at Pomfret, being on the same day in London. But 



Act III.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scene V 



The rest that love me, rise, and follow me. 

[Exeunt Council, with Gloster and 
Buckingham. 
Hast. Woe, woe, for England ! not a whit for 
me; 
For I, too fond, might have prevented this : 
Stanley did dream the boar did rase his helm ; 
And I did scorn it, and disdain'd to fly. a 
Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did 

stumble, 
And started when he look'd upon the Tower, 
As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. 
O, now I need b the priest that spake to me : 
I now repent I told the pursuivant, 
As too triumphing, how mine enemies 
To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, 
And I myself secure in grace and favour. 
O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse 
Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head. 
Bat. Come, come, despatch, the duke would 
be at dinner ; 
Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head. 

Hast. O momentary grace of mortal men, 
Which we more hunt for than the grace of God ! 
Who builds his hope in air of your good d looks, 
Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast ; 
Heady, with every nod, to tumble down 
Into the fatal bowels of the deep. 

Lov. Come, come, despatch; 'tis bootless to 

exclaim. 
Hast. 0, bloody Itichard ! — miserable Eng- 
land ! 
I prophesy the fearfull'st time to thee 
That ever wretched age hath look'd upon. 

in making this change the editors can only prescribe a half- 
remedy, for in the next scene they are constrained to keep 
llatcliff on the London scene, bringing in Hastings's head. 
In that scene Gloster says in the folio— which line is retained 
in the modern text — 

" Be patient, they are friends; Ratcliff and Lovel." 

We must either, it appears to us, take the text of the quarto 
altogether, in which neither Ratcliff nor Lovel appear, or 
adopt the apparent absurdity of the folio. But in truth this 
is one of those positions in which the poet has trusted to the 
imagination of his audience rather than to their topo- 
graphical knowledge; and by a bold anticipation of a rate 
of travelling which is now a reality, Ratcliff is without 
offence at Pomfret and London on the same day. In the 
rapid course of the dramatic action this is easily overlooked. 
We have little doubt that Ratcliff and Lovel are thus brought 
upon the scene together, in the folio copy, in association 
with the history " how Collingbourne was cruelly executed 
for making a rhyme " — 

" The Cat, the Rat, and Lovel our dog, 
Rule all England under a hog." 

The audience were familiar with this story ; and- it was na- 
tural that Shakspere should show Richard (the hog) in asso- 
ciation with Cacesby (the cat), Ratcliff (the rat), and Lovel, 
the three most confidential ministers of his usurpation. In 
the third scene of Act I. Margaret calls Richard " rooting 
hog." 

a So the folio. The verbs are transposed in the quartos. 

b Need, in the folio; the quartos, want. 

c So the folio; the quartos, despatch, my lord. 

<1 Good, in the folio ; the quartos, fair. 



Come, lead me to the block, bear liim my head ; 
They smile at me who shortly shall be dead. 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE V.— The same. The Tower Walls. 

Enter Gloster and Buckingham, in rotten 
armour, marvellous ill-favoured. 3, 

Glo. Come, cousin, canst thou quake and 
change thy colour, 
Murder thy breath in middle of a word, 
And then again begin, and stop again, 
As if thou wert distraught and mad with terror ? 

Buck. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep trage- 
dian; 
Speak, and look back, and pry on every side, 
Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, 
Intending b deep suspicion : ghastly looks 
Are at my service, like enforced smiles ; 
And both are ready in their offices, 
At any time, to grace my stratagems. 
But what, is Catesby gone ? 

Glo. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor 
along. 

Enter the Lord Mayor and Catesby. 

Buck. Lord mayor, — 

Glo. Look to the draw-bridge there. 

Buck. Hark ! a drum. 

Glo. Catesby, o'erlook the walls. 

Buck. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent — 

Glo. Look back, defend thee, here are ene- 
mies. 

Buck. God and our innocency defend and 
guard us ! ° 

Enter Lovel and Ratcliff, icith Hastings' 
head. 

Glo. Be patient, they are friends; Ratcliff 
and Lovel. 

Lov. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, 
The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. 

Glo. So dear I lov'd the man, that I must 
weep. 
I took him for the plainest harmless creature 
That breath'd upon the earth a Christian ; 
Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded 
The history of all her secret thoughts : 
So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue, 



a This is the quaint stage-direction of the folio. It is 
generally printed " in rusty armour." 

b Intending — pretending. 

c This rapid dialogue between Buckingham and Gloster is 
given by us as in the folio. The ordinary text was made up 
from the quartos and the folio, seemingly upon the principle 
that it is desirable not to lose any word that can be found in 
either edition. 

277 



ACT III. J 



KING RICHARD III. 



[SCF.NS V, 



That, his apparent open guilt omitted, — 

I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife, — 

He liv'd from all attainder of suspects. 

Buck. Well, well, he was the covert'st shel- 
ter'd traitor 
That ever liv'd. a 

Would you imagine, or almost believe, 
(Were't not, that by great preservation 
We live to tell it you,) the subtle traitor 
This day had plotted, in the council-house, 
To murther me, and my good lord of Gloster ? 

May. Had he done so ? 

Glo. What ! think you we are Turks or infi- 
dels ? 
Or that we would, against the form of law, 
Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death, 
But that the extreme peril of the case, 
The peace of England, and our persons' safety, 
Enforc'd us to this execution ? 

May. Now, fair befall you! he deserv'd his 
death ; 
And your good graces both have well proceeded, 
To warn false traitors from the like attempts. 
I never look'd for better at his hands, 
After he once fell in with mistress Shore. 

Buck. Yet had we not determin'd he should 
die, 
Until your lordship came to see his end ; 
Which now the loving haste of these our friends, 
Something against our meaning, hath prevented : 
Because, my lord, we would have had you heard 
The traitor speak, and timorously confess 
The manner and the purpose of his treasons ; 
That you might well have signified the same 
Unto the citizens, who, haply, may 
Misconster us in him, and wail his death. 

May. But, my good lord, your grace's word 
shall serve 
As well as I had seen and heard him speak : 
And do not doubt, right noble princes both, 
But I '11 acquaint our duteous citizens 
With all your just proceedings in this case. 

Glo. And to that end we wish'd your lordship 
here, 
To avbid the censures of the carping world. 

Buck. But since you come too late of our 
intent, 
Yet witness what you hear we did intend : 
And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. 

[Exit Lord Mayor. 

Glo. Go after, after, cousin Buckingham. 



ft Here we once found, in modern editions, Look you, tny 
lord mayor— the reading of no ancient edition, liul in the 
quartos these words are found in another passage, and were 
thrust in here to till out a line of ten syllables, 

278 



The mayor towards Guild-hall hies him in all 

post : 
There, at your meetest vantage of the time, 
Infer the bastardy of Edward's children : 
Tell them, how Edward put to death a citizen, 
Only for saying he would make his son 
Heir to the crown ; meaning, indeed, his house, 
Which by the sign thereof was termed so. 
Moreover, urge his hateful luxury, 
And bestial appetite in change of lust ; 
Which stretch' d unto their servants, daughters, 

wives, 
Even where his raging eye, or savage heart, 
Without control lusted to mate a prey. a 
Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person : — 
Tell them, when that my mother went with 

child 
Of that insatiate Edward, noble York, 
My princely father, then had wars in France ; 
And, by true b computation of the time, 
Found that the issue was not his begot ; 
Which well appeared in his lineaments, 
Being nothing like the noble duke my father : 
Yet touch this sparingly, as 't were far off ; 
Because, my lord, you know my mother lives. 
Buck. Doubt not, my lord: I'll play the 

orator, 
As if the golden fee for which I plead 
Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. 

Glo. If you thrive well bring them to Bay- 

nard's castle ; 5 
Where you shall find me well accompanied 
With reverend fathers, and well-learned bishops. 
Buck. I go; and, towards three or four 

o'clock, 
Look for the news that the Guild-hall affords. 

[Exit Buckingham. 
Glo. Go, Lovel, with all speed to Doctor 

Shaw. 
Go thou [to Cat.] to friar Penker ; — bid them 

both 
Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard's castle. 
[Exeunt Lovel and Catesby. 
Now will I go, to take some privy order 
To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight ; 
And to give order, that no manner person d 
Have, any time, recourse unto the princes. 

[Exit. 



" So the folio ; the quartos read lustful instead of ragi-g 
— listed instead of lusted — and his prey instead of a prey. 

b True, in the folio; the quartos, just. 

c Order, in the folio ; the quartos, notice. 

d No manner person. This is the readinir of the folio, and 
is a common idiom of our old language. The quartos, how 
ever, have no manner of person. Both forms were indiffer 
ently used. In the same chaper (Lev. vii.) of our common 
translation of the Bible we find— no manner fat, and no man- 
ner of blood. No manner person is probably the more anrieut 



Act III ] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scenes VI., VII. 



SCENE VI.— A Street. 

Enter a Scrivener. 

Scriv. Here is the indictment of the good lord 
Hastings ; 
Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, 
That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. 
And mark how well the sequel hangs together : 
Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, 
For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me ; 
The precedent was full as long a doing : 
And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, 
Untainted, unexamin'd, free, at liberty. 
Here 's a good world the while ! Who is so 

gross 
That cannot see this palpable device ? 
Yet who so bold but says he sees it not ? 
Bad is the world ; and all will come to nought, 
When such ill dealing must be seen in thought. 

[Exit. 

SCENE VII.— The same. Court of Baynard's 
Castle. 

Enter Glosteb, and Buckingham, meeting. 

Glo. How now, how now ? what say the 
citizens ? 

Buck. Now by the holy mother of our Lord, 
The citizens are mum, say not a word. 

Glo. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edward's 
children ? 

Buck. I did; with his contract with lady 
Lucy, 
And his contract by deputy in France : 
The insatiate greediness of his desire, 
And his enforcement of the city wives ; 
His tyranny for trifles ; his own bastardy, 
As being got, your father then in France ; 
And his resemblance being not like the duke. 
Withal, I did infer your lineaments, 
Being the right idea of your father, 
Both in your form and nobleness of mind : 
Laid open all your victories in Scotland, 
Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, 
Your bounty, virtue, fair humility ; 
Indeed, left nothing fitting for your purpose 
Untouch' d, or slightly handled, in discourse. 
And, when my oratory grew toward 3, end, 
I bade them that did love their country's good 
Cry — * God save Richard, England's royal 
king ! ' 



form, and it appears to us that these minute archaisms 
should be preserved in Shakspere wherever we have au- 
thority for them. 
" Toward, in the folio ; the quartos- to an. 



Glo. And did they so ? 

Buck. No, so God help me, they spake not a 
word ; 
But, like dumb statues 0, or breathing stones, 
Star'd each on other, and look'd deadly pale. 
Which when I saw I reprehended them ; 
And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful 

silence : 
His answer was, the people were not us'd 
To be spoke to but by the recorder. 
Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again ; — 
' Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke in- 

ferr'd;' 
But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. 
When he had done, some followers of mine own, 
At lower end o' the hall, hurPd up their caps, 
And some ten voices cried, ' God save king 

Richard!' 
And thus I took the vantage of those few, — 
' Thanks, gentle citizens, and friends,' quoth I ; 
' This general applause, and cheerful shout, 
Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard : ' 
And even here brake off, and came away. 

Glo. What tongueless blocks were they ! 
Would they not speak ? 
Will not the mayor then and his brethren come ? 

Buck. The mayor is here at hand ; intend some 
fear ; 
Be not you spoke with but by mighty suit : 
And look you, get a prayer-book in your hand, 
And stand between two churchmen, good my 

lord; 
For on that ground I '11 make a holy descant : 
And be not easily won to our requests ; 
Play the maid's part, still answer nay, and take it. 

Glo. I go : And if you plead as well for them 
As I can say nay to thee for myself, 
No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue. 

Buck. Go, go, up to the leads ; the lord mayor 
knocks. [Exit Glosteis. 

Enter the Lord Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens. 

Welcome, my lord : I dance attendance here ; 
I think the duke wiUnot be spoke withal. 

Enter from the castle, Catesby. 

Now, Catesby ! what says your lord to my re- 
quest ? 



a Statues. The word statue, which here, as well as in the 
Two Gentlemen of Verona (Act iv., Sc. i v.), probably means 
picture, as distinguished from " breathing stones," must be 
read as a trisyllable; and for this reason it is printed in 
modern editions— statua. In Julius Caesar (Act 11., Sc. II.) 
we have — 

" She dreamt to-night she saw my statue." 

And again in the same play (Act in., Sc. n.) — 
" Even at the base of Pompey's statue.'' 

279 



Act III.] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene VII. 



Cute. He doth entreat your grace, my noble 
lord, 
To visit him to-morrow, or next day : 
He is within, with two right reverend fathers, 
Divinely bent to meditation : 
And in no worldly suits would he be mov'd, 
To draw him from his holy exercise. 

Buck. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious 
duke; 
Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen, 
In deep designs, in matter of great moment, 
No less importing than our general good, 
Are come to have some conference with his grace. 
Cate. I '11 signify so much unto him straight. 

[Exit. 
Buck. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an 
Edward ! 
He is not lulling a on a lewd love-bed, b 
But on his knees at meditation ; 
Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, 
But meditating with two deep divines ; 
Not sleeping, to engross his idle body, 
But praying, to enrich his watchful soul : 
Happy were England would this virtuous prince 
Take on his grace d the sovereignty thereof: 
But, sure, I fear we shall not win him to it. 
May. Marry, God defend his grace should say 

us nay ! 
Buck. I fear he will: Here Catesby comes 
again; — 

Re-enter Catesby. 

Now, Catesby, what says his grace ? 

Cate. He wonders to what end you have 
assembled 
Such troops of citizens to come to him, 
His grace not being warn'd thereof before ; 
He fears, my lord, you mean no good to hiin. 

Buck. Sorry I am my noble cousin should 
Suspect me, that I mean no good to him : 
By heaven, we come to him in perfect love ; 
And so once more return and tell his grace. 

[Exit Catesby. 
When holy and devout religious men 
Are at their beads, 'tis much 6 to draw them 

thence ; 
So sweet is zealous contemplation. 

Enter Glosteu, in a gallery above, between Two 
Bishops Catesby returns. 

a Lulling — so all the ancient copies; the modern editions, 
lolling. 

t> Love-bed, in the folio; the quartos, day-bed. 
c Engross -to make gross. 
d His grace, in the folio; the quartos, himself. 
e Much, in the folio; the quartos, hard. 

280 



May. See, where his grace stands 'tween two 
clergymen ! 

Buck. Two props of virtue for a Christian 
prince, 
To stay him from the fall of vanity : 
And, see, a book of prayer in his hand ; 
True ornament to know a holy man. 
Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, 
Lend favourable ear to our requests ; 
And pardon us the interruption 
Of thy devotion and right Christian zeal. 

Glo. My lord, there needs no such apology ; 
I do beseech your grace to pardon me, a 
Who, earnest in the service of my God, 
Deferr'd b the visitation of my friends. 
But, leaving this, what is your grace's plea- 
sure? 

Buck. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth 
God above, 
And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. 

Glo. I do suspect I have done some offence, 
That seems disgracious iu the city's eye ; 
And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. 

Buck. You have, my lord : Woidd it might 
please your grace 
On our entreaties to amend your faidt ! 

Glo. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian 
laud? 

Buck. Know, then, it is your fault, that you 
resign 
The supreme seat, the throne majestical, 
The sceptred office of your ancestors, 
Your state of fortune, and your due of birth, 
The lineal glory of your royal house, 
To the corruption of a blemish'd stock : 
Whiles, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, 
(Which here we waken to our country's good,) 
The noble isle doth want her proper limbs ; 
Her face defae'd with scars of infamy, 
Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, 
And almost shoulder'd in the swallowing gulf 
Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. 
Which to recure we heartily solicit 
Your gracious self to take on you the charge 
And kingly government of this your laud : 
Not as protector, steward, substitute, 
Or lowly factor for another's gain ; 
But as successively, from blood to blood, 
Your right of birth, your empery, your own. 
For this, consorted with the citizens, 
Your very worshipful and loving friends, 



a So the folio ; the quartos, 

" I rather do beseech you pardon me." 
b Deferr'd, in the folio; the quartos, neglect. 



Act III.] 



KING RICHARD III. 



[Scene Vll. 



And by their vehement instigation, 

In this just cause a come I to move your grace. 

Glo. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence, 
Or bitterly to speak in your reproof, 
Best fitteth my degree, or your condition : 
If not to answer, you might haply think, 
Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded 
To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, 
Which fondly you would here impose on me ; 
If to reprove you for this suit of yours, 
So season'd with your faithful love to me, 
Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends. 
Therefore, — to speak, and to avoid the first ; 
And then, in speaking, not to incur the last, — 
Definitively thus I answer you. b 
Your love deserves my thanks ; but my desert 
Unmeritable shuns your high request. 
First, if all obstacles were cut away, 
And that my path were even to the crown, 
As the ripe revenue and due of birth ; 
Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, 
So mighty, and so many, my defects, 
That I would rather hide me from my greatness, 
Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, 
Than in my greatness covet tc be hid, 
And hi the vapour of my glory smother' d. 
But, God be thank' d, there is no need of me ; 
(And much I need to help you, were there 

need; ) 
The royal tree hath left us royal fruit, 
Which, mellow' d by the stealing hours of time, 
Will well become the seat of majesty, 
And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. 
On him I lay that you would lay on me, 
The right and fortune of his happy stars, 
Which God defend that I should wring from 

him! 
Buck. My lord, this argues conscience in your 

grace ; 
But the respects thereof are nice and trivial, 
All circumstances well considered. 
You say that Edward is your brother's son ; 
So say we too, but not by Edward's wife : 
For first was he contract to lady Lucy, — 
Your mother lives a witness to his vow ; 
And afterwards by substitute betroth'd 
To Bona, sister to the king of France. 
These both put off, d a poor petitioner, 
A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, 
A beauty-waning and distressed widow, 
Even in the afternoon of her best days, 



a Cause, in the folio ; the quartos, suit. 
1) These ten lines, from " If not to answer," are not in the 
quartos, 
c Were there need, in the folio ; the quartos, if need were. 
(1 Off, in the folio ; the quartos, by. 



Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, 

Seduc'd the pitch and height of his degree 11 

To base declension and loath'd bigamy ; 

By her, in his unlawful bed, he got 

This Edward, whom our manners call the prince. 

More bitterly could I expostulate, 

Save that, for reverence to some alive, 

I give a sparing limit to my tongue. 

Then, good my lord, take to your royal self 

This proffer'd benefit of dignity : 

If not to bless us and the land withal, 

Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry 

From the corruption of abusing time, 

Unto a lineal true-derived course. 

May. Do, good my lord ; your citizens entreat 
you. 

Buck. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd 
love. 

Cate. make them joyful, grant their lawful 
suit. 

Glo. Alas, why would you heap this care b on 
me? 
I am unfit for state and majesty : 
I do beseech you, take it not amiss ; 
I cannot, nor I will not yield to you. 

Buck. If you refuse it, — as in love and zeal, 
Loth to depose the child, your brother's son, 
As well we know your tenderness of heart, 
And gentle, kiud, effeminate remorse, 
Which we have noted in you to your kindred, 
And equally, indeed, to all estates, — 
Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no, 
Your brother's son shall never reign our king ; 
But we will plant some other in the throne, 
To the disgrace and downfal of your house. 
Aud in this resolution here we leave you ; — 
Come, citizens, we will entreat no more. d 

[Exeunt Buckingham and Citizens. 

Cate. Call them again, sweet prince, accept 
their suit ; 
If you deny them all the land will rue it. 

Glo. Will you enforce me to a world of cares ? 
Call them again ; I am not made of stone, 
But penetrable to your kind entreaties, 

[Exit Catesby. 
Albeit against my conscience and my soul. 



a His degree, in the folio; the quartos, all his thoughts. 
b This care, in the folio; the quartos, these cares. 
c The throne, in the folio ; the quartos, your throne. 
d The quarto has a most characteristic passage here. 
Buckingham says, 

"Come, citizens; zounds, I '11 entreat no more." 
To which Gloster responds, 

" O do not swear, my lord of Buckingham." 
Mr. G. White thinks " It is quite probable that this passage 
was originally written thus, and that the change was made by 
Shakspeare, because it made Gloster overdo his hypocrisy." 

281 



Act III.] 



KING EICHAED III. 



[Scene VII 



Re-enter Buckingham, and the rest. 

Cousin of Buckingham, and sage grave men, 
Siuce you will buckle fortune on my back, 
To bear her burden, whe'r I will or no, 
I must have patience to endure the load : 
But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach, 
Attend the sequel of your imposition, 
Your mere enforcement shall acquittauce me 
From all the impure blots and staius thereof; 
For God doth know,* and you may partly see, 
How far I am from the desire of this. 

May. God bless your grace ! we see it, and 
will say it. 

Dulh know, in the folio; the quartos, he knows 



Glo. In saying so you shall but say the truth. 
Buck. Then I salute you with this royal title, — 
Long live king Richard, England's worthy king ! 
All. Amen. 
Buck. To-morrow may it please you to be 

ciown'd? 
Glo. Even when you please, for you will have 

it so. 
Buck. To-morrow, then, we will attend your 
grace ; 
And so most joyfully do we take our leave. 
Glo. Come, let us to our holy work again : — 

[7'o the Bishops. 
Farewell, my cousin ; — farewell, gentle friends. 

[Exeunt. 







[Baynard's Castle. 'The mayor is here at hand.'] 




[Edward Prince of Wales.] 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT III. 



1 Scene I. — " Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to 
your chamber." 

An extract from Ben Jouson's ' Part of King 
James's Entertainment in passing to his Corona- 
tion,' will explain this passage : — " The scene pre- 
sented itself in a square and flat upright, like to 
the side of a city : the top thereof, above the 
vent and crest, adorned with houses, towers, and 
steeples, set off in prospective. Upon the battle- 
ments in a great capital letter was inscribed 

LONDINIUM 

.... Beneath that, in a less and different character, 
was written 

Camera Regia, 

which title immediately after the Norman Con- 
quest it began to have ; and, by the indulgence of 
succeeding princes, hath been hitherto continued. 
In the frieze over the gate it seemeth to speak this 
verse : — - 

Par Domtjs umg Ccelo, 
Sed Minor est Domino, 

taken out of Martial, and implying, that though 
this city (for the state and magnificence) might by 
hyperbole be said to touch the stars, and reach up 
to heaven, yet was it far inferior to the master 
thereof, who was His Majesty ; and in that respect 
unworthy to receive him. The highest person 
advanced therein was 

Monarchica Britannica ; 

and fitly ; applying to the above-mentioned title of 
the city, The King's Camber, and therefore here 
placed as in the proper seat of the empire." 



2 Scene I. — " Thus, Wee the formal Vice Iniquity? 

In an Illustration of Henry IV., Part II., Act 
III., we have given a brief notice of the Vice of 
the old drama. Gifford has thus described him, 
with his usual good sense ; and his description 
may spare our readers the trouble of wading 
through the elaborate dissertations which generally 
accompany the passage before us : — " He appears 
to have been a perfect counterpart of the Harlequin 
of the modern stage, and had a twofold office ; to 
instigate the hero of the piece to wickedness, and, 
at the same time, to protect him from the devil, 
whom he was permitted to buffet and baffle with 
his wooden sword, till the process of the story 
required that both the protector and the protected 
should be carried off by the fiend ; or the latter 
driven roaring from the stage by some miraculous 
interposition in favour of the repentant offender." 
This note is appended to a passage in the first scene 
of Ben Jouson's ' The Devil is an Ass.' We learn 
from this scene that there were Vices of various 
ranks, which had their proper appellations : — 

" Sal. What Vice ? 

What kind wouldst thou have it of? 

Pur;. Why any: Fraud, 
Or Covetousness, or Lady Van'ty, 
Or old Iniquity." 

We have here then the very personage to which 
Richard refers ; and Jonson brings him upon the 
scene to proclaim his own excellences, in a style 
of which the following is a specimen : — 

" What is he calls upon me, and would seem to lack a Vice? 
Ere his words be half spoken, I am with him in a trice; 
Here, there, and everywhere, as the cat is with the mice : 
True Vetus Iniquitas. Lack'st thou cards, friend, or dice? 

283 



ILLUSTRATIONS OF ACT III. 



I will teach thee to cheat, child, to cog, lie, and swagger, 
And ever and anon to he drawing forth thy dagger : 
To swear by Gogs-nowns, like a lusty Juventus, 
In a cloak to thy heel, and a hat like a pent-house." 

Satan, however, will Lave nothing to do with Ini- 
quity, whom he holds to be obsolete : — 
" They are other things 

That are received now upon earth, for Vices ; 

Stranger and newer; and changed every hour." 

Iii ' The Staple of News' there is a sort of Chorus 
or 'Iutermeau' between each act, in which the 
previous scenes are remarked upon. We learn 
again from this that the Vice had become obsolete 
in Jonson's time. The Vices of the play are 
explained to be the vicious characters ; but Tattle, 
one of the performers in the Intermean, objects to 
this ; which Mirth, another performer, defends : — 

" Tat. But here is never a fiend to carry him away- 
Besides, he has never a wooden dagger! I would not give a 
rush for a Vice that has not a wooden dagger to snap at every- 
body he meets. 

"Mirth. That was the old way, gossip, when Iniquity came 
in like Hokos Pokos, in a juggler's jerkin, with false skirts, 
like the Knave of Clubs ; but now they are attired like men 
and women of the time, the Vices male and female." 

Iuicpuity, then, was no doubt a character whose 
attributes were always essentially the same ; who 
was dressed always according to one fashion ; who 
constantly went through the same round of action ; 
who had his own peculiar cant words ; — something, 
in fact, very similar to that most interesting relic 
of antiquity, Punch, who, in spite of meddling 
legislation, still beats his wife and still defies the 
devil. It is to this fixed character of the " Vice 
Iniquity" that we think Shakspere alludes wheu 
he calls him "the formal Vice," — the Vice who 
conducts himself according to a set form. It was 
his custom, no doubt, to 

"Moralize two meanings in one word." 
It is to this formal character that Hamlet alludes : — 

" A vice of kings — 
A cutpurse of the empire and the rule ; 
That from a shelf the precious diadem stole, 
And put it in his pocket ! " 

"A king 
Of shreds and patches." 

3 Scene I. — "At Crosby-house there shall you find 
us both." 

No historical fact can be better ascertained than 



the connexion of Richard III. with Crosby House.* 
It was the mansion of Sir John Crosby, au eminent 
citizen, who was sheriff in 1470. The temporary 
occupation of this splendid house by Richard wa3 
probably owing to the favour in which he was held 
in the city, where he had many zealous, and, no 
doubt, conscientious partisaus. This fine specimen 
of the domestic architecture of the fifteenth cen- 
tury has been singularly fortunate in partially 
escaping the accidents of time, and the more ruth- 
less devastation of modern improvement. What 
remains to us has been judiciously restored; and 
we have no doubt that the national love of 
whatever is connected with the name of Shakspere 
has thus secured to us one of the most interesting 
places associated with his immortal scenes. 

4 Scene IV. — " My lord of Ely, when I was last in 

Holbom, 
I saw good strawberries in your garden there ; 
I do beseech you send for some of them." 

Sir Thomas More, no doubt, had this circumstance, 
of the remarkable scene which preceded the death 
of Hastings, from some well-authenticated report. 
It was not a thing to be invented-T Ely Place, a 
century afterwards, was surrounded with fields and 
gardens ; and in the time of Richard III. straw- 
berries were an article of ordinary consumption 
in London. In Lydgate's poem of ' London 
Lyckpeuy ' we have the following lines : — 

" Then unto London I dyde me hye, 
Of all the land it bearyeth the pryse; 
' Gode pescode,' owne began to cry — 
Strabcry ri/pe, and cherrys in the ryse.'" 

5 Scene V. — "If you thrive well bring them to Bay- 

nard's castle." 

Bayuard's Castle, which stood on the bank of 
the river in Thames-street, has been swept away 
by the commercial necessities of London. The 
dingy barge is moored in the place of the splendid 
galley ; and porters and carmen squabble on the 
spot where princes held their state. The Baynard's 
Castle of the time of Richard III. was built by 
Humphrey Duke of Gloster; and it was subse- 
quently granted by Henry VI. to Richard's father, 
the Duke of York. 

* It is called Crosby House in the folio edition ; Crosby 
Place in the quartos. 

t See Historical Illustration. 



HISTORICAL ILLUSTRATION. 



Silt Thomas More's ' Tragical History of Richard 
III.' (otherwise called 'The History of the pitiful 
Life and unfortunate Death of King Edward V.') 
ought to be regarded with veneration, for it has 
given to Shakspere the materials for some of the 
most spirited of these scenes. Hall copied More 
verbatim ; and in that he showed his good sense. 
The scenes described by More have a wonderful 
air of truth,— probably, in great part, from the 
notice of little incidents that could only have 
been derived from actual observation. It is sup- 
2S4 



posed that he obtained these minute particulars 
from Morton Bishop of Ely, — the same bishop 
who had very good strawberries iu his garden at 
Holborn. However the transactions of the reign 
of Pichard may have been coloured, the colouring 
must remain. The scenes which More has re- 
corded, and Shakspere rendered perpetual, must 
continue to be received as true. They may not be 
the literal truth, — but they involve, there can be 
little doubt, the higher general truth, with refer- 
ence to the mysterious events of this turbulent 



KING RICHARD III. 



period. We Lave little more to do here than in- 
dicate the connexion between the old narrative 
and the action of this drama. 

The following is the foundation of the first scene 
of this act : — 

" When the cardinal and the other lords had re- 
ceived the young duke, they brought him into the 
Star Chamber, where the protector took him into 
his arms and kissed him, with these words : Now 
welcome, my lord, with all my very heai't ; and he 
said in that of likelihood even as he inwardly 
thought, and thereupon forthwith brought him to 
the king his brother into the bishop's palace at 
Paul's, and from thence through the city honour- 
ably into the Tower, out of which after that day 
they never came abroad. When the protector had 
both the children in his possession, yea, and that 
they were in a sure place, he then began to thirst to 
see the end of his enterprise. And to avoid all sus- 
picion he caused all the lords which he knew 1o be 
faithful to the king to assemble at Baynard's castle 
to commune of the order of the coronation, while 
he and other of his complices and of his affinity at 
Crosby 's-place contrived the contrary, and to make 
the protector king : to which counsel there were 
adhibit very few, and they very secret." 

With what skill Shakspere has caught the 
dramatic situation of the old History may be seen 
by a comparison of the following extract from 
Hall with Scene II. : — 

" A marvellous case it is to hear, either the warn- 
ings that he should have voided, or the tokens of 
that he could not void. For the next night before 
Ms death the Lord Stanley sent to him a trusty 
messenger at midnight in all the haste, requiring 
him to rise and ride away with him, for he was dis- 
posed utterly no longer for to abide, for he had a 
fearful dream, in the which he thought that a boar 
with his tusks so rased them both by the heads 
that the blood ran about both their shoulders ; and 
for as much as the protector gave the boar for his 
cognizance, he imagined that it should be he. This 
dream made such a fearful impression in his heart, 
that he was thoroughly determined no longer to 
tarry, but had his horse ready, if the Lord Hastings 
would go with him ; so that they would ride so far 
that night that they should be out of danger by the 
next day. Ah ! good lord (q d * the Lord Hastings to 
the messenger) : leaneth my lord thy master so 
much to such trifles, and hath such faith in dreams, 
which either his own fear phantasieth, or do rise in 
the night's rest by reason of the day's thought ? 
Tell him it is plain witchcraft to believe in such 
dreams, which, if they were tokens of things to 
come, why thinketh he not that we might as likely 
make them true by our going, if we were caught 
and brought back (as friends fail fliers) ? for then had 
the boar a cause likely to rase us with his tusks, as 
folks that fled for some falsehood, wherefore either 
is there peril, nor none there is deed, or if any be 
it is rather in going than abiding. And if we should 
needs fall in peril one way or other, yet had I liefer 
that men should say it were by other men's false- 
hood, than think it were either our own fault or 
faint feeble heart ; and therefore go to thy master 
and commend me to him, and say that I pray him 
to be merry and have no fear, for I assure him I am 

* <l d > quoth. 



assured of the man he wotteth of, as I am sure of 
mine own hand. God send grace (q d the messenger) ; 
and so departed. Certain it is also that, in riding 
toward the Tower the same morning in which ho 
was beheaded, his horse that he accustomed to 
ride on stumbled with him twice or thrice almost 
to the falling ; which thing, although it happeth 
to them daily to whom no mischance is toward, 
yet hath it been as an old evil token observed as a 
going toward mischief. Now this that followeth 
was no warning, but an envious scorn. The same 
morning, ere he were up from his bed, there came to 
him Sir Thomas Haward, son to the Lord Haward 
(which lord was one of the priviest of the lord pro- 
tector's council and doing), as it were of courtesy 
to accompany him to the council, but of truth sent 
by the lord protector to haste him hitherward. 

" This Sir Thomas, while the Lord Hastings staid 
a while communing with a priest whom he met in 
the Tower-street, brake the lord's tale, saying to 
him merely, What, my lord ! I pray you come on; 
wherefore talk you so long with that priest ? you 
have no need of a priest yet : and laughed upon 
him, as though he would say, You shall have need 
of one soon. But little wist the other what he 
meant (but or night these words were well remem- 
bered by them that heard them); so the true Lord 
Hastings little mistrusted, and was never merrier 
nor thought his life in more surety in all his days, 
which thing is often a sign of change : but I shall 
rather let anything pass me than the vain surety of 
man's mind so near his death ; for upon the very 
Tower wharf, so near the place where his head 
was off so soon after as a man might well cast a 
ball, a pursuivant of his own, called Hastings, met 
with him, and of their meeting in that place he was 
put in remembrance of another time in which it 
happened them to meet before together in the place, 
at which time the Lord Hastings had been accused 
to King Edward by the Lord Bivers, the queen's 
brother, insomuch that he was for a while, which 
lasted not long, highly in the king's indignation. 
As he now met the same pursuivant in the same 
place, the jeopardy so well passed, it gave him 
great pleasure to talk with him thereof, with whom 
he had talked in the same place of that matter, and 
therefore he said, Ah, Hastings, art thou remem- 
bered when I met thee here once with an heavy 
heart ? Yea, my lord, (q d he,) that I remember 
well, and thanked be to God they gat no good nor 
you no harm thereby. Thou wouldest say so (q d he) 
if thou knewest so much as I do, which few know 
yet, and more shall shortly. That meant he, that 
the Earl Bivers and the Lord Bichard and Sir 
Thomas Vaughan should that day be beheaded at 
Pomfret, as they were indeed ; which act he wist 
well should be done, but nothing ware that the 
axe hung so near his own head. In faith, man, 
(q d he,) I was never so sorry, nor never stood in so 
great danger of my life, as I did when thou and 
I met here ; and lo ! the world is turned now ; now 
stand mine enemies in the danger, as thou mayest 
hap to know more hereafter, and I never in my life 
merrier, nor never in so great surety. I pray God 
it prove so (q d Hastings). Prove ! (q d he :) doubt- 
est thou that ? nay, nay, I warrant thee. And so 
in manner displeased he entered into the Tower." 
So, more especially, with the great scene (Scene 
IV.) of the arrest of Hastings : — 

285 



ILLUSTEATIONS OF ACT III. 



" The lord protector caused a council to be set 
at the Tower on the Friday the thirteenth day of 
Juue, where was much communing for the honour- 
able solemnity of the coronation, of the which the 
time appointed approached so near that the page- 
ants were a mating day and night at Westminster, 
and victual killed which afterward was cast away. 

" These lords thus sitting communing of this 
matter, the protector came in among them about 
nine of the clock, saluting them courteously, excus- 
ing himself that he had been from them so long, 
saying merely that he had been a sleeper that day ; 
and after a little talking with them he said to the 
Bishop of Ely, My lord, you have very good straw- 
berries in your garden at Holborn, I require you let 
us have a mess of them. Gladly, my lord, (q d he,) 
I would 1 had some better thing as ready to your 
pleasure as that : and with that in all haste he sent 
his servant for a dish of strawberries. The pro- 
tector set the lords fast in communing, and there- 
upon prayed them to spare him a little, and 
so he departed, and came again between ten and 
eleven of the clock into the chamber all changed, 
with a sour angry countenance, knitting the brows, 
frowning, and fretting, and gnawing on his lips, and 
so set him down in his place. All the lords were 
dismayed, and sore marvelled of this manner and 
sudden change, and what thing should him ail. 
When he had sitten a while, thus he began : What 
were they worthy to have that compass and ima- 
gine the destruction of me, being so near of blood 
to the king, and protector of this his royal realm ? 
At which question all the lords sat sore astonished, 
musing much by whom the question should be 
meant, of which every man knew himself clear. 

" Then the Lord Hastings, as he that for the 
familiarity that was between them thought he 
might be boldest with him, answered and said, That 
they were worthy to be punished as heinous trai- 
tors, whatsoever they were : and all the other af- 
firmed the same. That is (q d he) yonder sorceress 
my brothei-'s wife, and other with her : meaning 
the queen. At these words many of the lords were 
sore abashed which favoured her; but the Lord 
Hastings was better content in his mind that it was 
moved by her than by any other that he loved 
better, albeit his heart grudged that he was not 
afore made of counsel of this matter, as well as 
he was of the taking of her kindred, and of their 
putting to death, which were by his assent before 
devised to be beheaded at Pomfret this self-same 
day, in the which he was not ware that it was by 
other devised that he himself should the same day 
be beheaded at London. Then, said the protector, 
in what wise that sorceress and other of her coun- 
sel, as Shore's wife with her affinity, have by their 
sorcery and witchcraft thus wasted my body : and 
therewith plucked up his doublet-sleeve to his 
elbow on his left arm, where he showed a wearish 
withered arm, and small as it was never other. And 
thereupon every man's mind misgave them, well 
perceiving that this matter was but a quarrel, for 
well they wist that the queen was both too wise 
to go about any such folly, and also, if she would, 
yet would she of all folk make Shore's wife least 
of her counsel, whom of all women she most hated 
as that concubine whom the king her husband most 
loved. 

" Also, there was no man there but knew that his 
2S6 



arm was ever such sith the dny of his birth. Never- 
theless the Lord Hastings, which from the death of 
King Edward kept Shore's wife, whom he some- 
what doted in the king's life, saying, it is said, 
that he forbare her for reverence toward his king, 
or else of a certain kind of fidelity toward his 
friend ; yet now his heart somewhat grudged to 
have her whom he loved so highly accused, and 
that as he knew well untruly ; therefore he an- 
swered and said, Certainly, my lord, if they have 
so done they be worthy of heinous punishment. 
What ! (q d the protector,) thou servest me, I ween, 
with if and with and : I tell thee they have done 
it, and that will I make good on thy body, traitor : 
and therewith (as in a great anger) he clapped his 
fist on the board a great rap ; at which token given, 
one cried treason without the chamber, and there- 
with a door clapped, and in came rushing men in 
harness, as many as the chamber could hold ; and 
anon the protector said to the Lord Hastings, I 
arrest thee, traitor ! What, me, my lord ? q d he. 
Yea, the traitor, q d the protector ; and one let fly 
at the Lord Stanley, which shrunk at the stroke, 
and fell under the table, or else his head had been 
cleft to the teeth, for as shortly as he shrank yet 
ran the blood about his ears. Then was the Arch- 
bishop of York, and Doctor Morton Bishop of Ely, 
and the Lord Stanley, taken, and divers other, which 
were bestowed in divers chambers, save the Lord 
Hastings (whom the protector commanded to speed 
and shrive him apace), For by Saint Paul (q d he) 
I will not dine till I see thy head off. It booted 
him not to ask why, but heavily he took a priest at a 
venture and made a short shrift, for a longer would 
not be suffered, the protector made so much haste 
to his dinner, which might not go to it till this 
murther were done for saving of his ungracious 
oath. So was he brought forth into the green be- 
side the chapel within the Tower, and his head laid 
down on a log of timber that lay there for building 
of the chapel, and there tyrannously stricken off, 
and after his body and head were interred at Wind- 
sor by his master, King Edward the Fourth, whose 
souls Jesu pardon. Amen." 

The scene upon the Tower walls, where Gloster 
and Buckingham appear in " rotten armour, mar- 
vellous ill favoured," has its origin in the following 
description of their practice upon the credulity 
of the citizens, showing themselves in "old evil- 
favoured briganders, such as no man would ween 
that they would have vouchsafed to have put on 
their backs, except some sudden necessity had 
constrained them : " — 

"Now flew the fame of this lord's death through 
the city and farther about, like a wind in every 
man's ear; but the protector immediately after 
dinner, intending to set some colour upon the 
matter, sent in all the haste for many substantial 
men out of the city into the Tower, and at their 
coming himself with the Duke of Buckingham 
stood harnessed in old evil-favoured briganders, 
such as no man would ween that they would have 
vouchsafed to have put on their backs, except 
some sudden necessity had constrained them. 
Then the lord protector showed them that the 
Lord Hastings and other of his conspiracy had 
contrived to have suddenly destroyed him and 
the Duke of Buckingham there the same day in 
counsel, and what they intended farther was yet 



KING EICHAED III. 



not well known ; of which their treason he had 
never knowledge before x of the clock the same 
forenoon, which sudden fear drave them to put 
on such harness as came nest to their hands for 
their defence, and so God help them ! that the 
mischief turned upon them that would have done 
it, and thus he required them to report. Every 
man answered fair, as though no man mistrusted 
the matter, which of truth no man believed." 

The seventh scene, one of the most skilfully 
conducted of the whole play, may be traced in very 
minute particulars to the graphic historian : — 

" When the duke had said, and looked that the 
people, whom he hoped that the mayor had framed 
before, should, after this flattering proposition 
made, have cried King Richard ! King Richard ! all 
was still and mute, and not one word answered 
to; wherewith the duke was marvellously abashed, 
and taking the mayor near to him, with other that 
were about him privy to the matter, said unto 
them softly, What meaneth this that the people 
be so still ? Sir, quod the mayor, percase they 
perceive you not well. That shall we amend, quod 
he, if be that will help ; and therewith somewhat 
louder rehearsed the same matter again, in other 
order and other words, so well and ornately, and 
nevertheless so evidently and plain, with voice, 
gesture, and countenance so comely and so con- 
venient, that every man much marvelled that 
heard him, and thought that they never heard in 
their lives so evil a tale so well told. But were it 
for wonder, or fear, or that each looked that other 
should speak first, not one word was there answered 
of all the people that stood before; but all were 
as still as the midnight, not so much rouning* 
among them, by which they might seem once to 
commune what was best to do. When the mayor 
saw this, he, with other partners of the counsel, 
drew about the duke, and said tint the people had 
not been accustomed there to be spoken to but by 
the recorder, which is the mouth of the city, and 
haply to him they will answer. With that the 
recorder, called Thomas Fitz William, a sad man 
and an honest, which was but newly come to the 
office, and never had spoken to the people before, 
and loth was with that matter to begin, notwith- 
standing, thereunto commanded by the mayor, 
made rehearsal to the commons of that which the 
duke had twice puropsed himself ; but the recorder 
so tempered his tale that he showed everything as 
the duke his words were, and no part of his own: 
but all this no change made in the people, which 
alway after one stood as they had been amazed. 
Whereupon the duke rouned with the mayor, and 
said, This is a marvellous obstinate silence ; and 
therewith turned to the people again, with these 
words : — Dear friends, we come to move you to 
that thing which peradventure we so greatly 
needed not, but that the lords of this realm and 
commons of other parts might have sufficed, 
saying such love we bear you, and so much set by 
you, that we would not gladly do without you 
that thing in which to be partners is your weal 
and honour, which as to us seemeth you see not 
or weigh not ; wherefore we require you to give 
us an answer, one or other, whether ye be minded, 
as all the nobles of the realm be, to have this 

* To roun, or round, is to speak privately. 



noble prince, now protector, to be your king? 
And at these words the people began to whisper 
among themselves secretly, that the voice was 
neither loud nor base, but like a swarm of bees, 
till at the last, at the nether end of the hall, a 
bushmeut of the duke's servants, and one Nash- 
field, and other belouging to the protector, with 
some prentices and lads that thrusted into the hall 
amongst the press, began suddenly at men's backs 
to cry out as loud as they could, King Richard ! 
King Richard ! and then threw up their caps in 
token of joy, and they that stood before cast back 
their heads marvelling thereat, but nothing they 
said. And when the duke and the mayor saw this 
manner, they wisely turned it to their purpose, 
and said it was a goodly cry and a joyful to hear 
every man with one voice, and no man saying nay. 
Wherefore friends, (quod the duke,) situ we per- 
ceive that it is all your whole minds to have this 
noble man for your king, whereof we shall make 
his grace so effectual report that we doubt not 
but that it shall redound to your great wealth and 
commodity. We therefore require you that to- 
morrow ye go with us, and we with you, to his 
noble grace, to make our humble petition and 
request to him in manner before remembered. 

" Then on the morrow the mayor and aldermen 
and chief commoners of the city, in their best 
manner apparelled, assembling them together at 
Paul's, resorted to Bayuard's castle, where the 
protector lay, to which place also, according to the 
appointment, repaired the Duke of Buckingham, 
and divers nobles with him, besides many knights 
and gentlemen. And thereupon the duke sent 
word to the lord protector of the being there of 
a great honourable company to move a great 
matter to his grace. Whereupon the protector 
made great difficulty to come down to them, 
excevjt he knew some part of their errand, as 
though he doubted, and partly mistrusted, the 
coming of such a number to him so suddenly, 
without any warning or knowledge whether they 
came for good or harm. Then, when the duke 
had showed this to the mayor and other, that 
they might thereby see how little the protector 
looked for this matter, they sent again by the 
messenger such loving message, and therewith so 
humbly besought him to vouchsafe that they might 
resort to his presence to purpose their intent, of 
which they would to none other person any part 
disclose. At the last he came out of his chamber, 
and yet not down to them, but in a gallery over 
them, with a bishop on every hand of him, where 
they beneath might see him and spe