Sink. Heere comes a man, let's stay till he be past: Enter the King with a Prayer booke.

Hen. From Scotland am I stolne euen of pure loue, To greet mine owne Land with my wishfull sight: No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine, Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee, Thy Balme washt off, wherewith thou was Annointed: No bending knee will call thee Csar now, No humble suters prease to speake for right: No, not a man comes for redresse of thee: For how can I helpe them, and not my selfe? Sink. I, heere's a Deere, whose skin's a Keepers Fee: This is the quondam King; Let's seize vpon him

Hen. Let me embrace the sower Aduersaries, For Wise men say, it is the wisest course

Hum. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him

Sink. Forbeare a-while, wee'l heare a little more

Hen. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid: And (as I heare) the great Commanding Warwicke I: thither gone, to craue the French Kings Sister To wife for Edward. If this newes be true, Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but lost: For Warwicke is a subtle Orator: And Lewis a Prince soone wonne with mouing words: By this account then, Margaret may winne him, For she's a woman to be pittied much: Her sighes will make a batt'ry in his brest, Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart: The Tyger will be milde, whiles she doth mourne; And Nero will be tainted with remorse, To heare and see her plaints, her Brinish Teares. I, but shee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue: Shee on his left side, crauing ayde for Henrie; He on his right, asking a wife for Edward. Shee Weepes, and sayes, her Henry is depos'd: He Smiles, and sayes, his Edward is instaul'd; That she (poore Wretch) for greefe can speake no more: Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, smooths the Wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength, And in conclusion winnes the King from her, With promise of his Sister, and what else, To strengthen and support King Edwards place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore soule) Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorne

Hum. Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens? King. More then I seeme, and lesse then I was born to: A man at least, for lesse I should not be: And men may talke of Kings, and why not I? Hum. I, but thou talk'st, as if thou wer't a King

King. Why so I am (in Minde) and that's enough

Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne? King. My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head: Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones: Nor to be seene: my Crowne, is call'd Content, A Crowne it is, that sildome Kings enioy

Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content, Your Crowne Content, and you, must be contented To go along with vs. For (as we thinke) You are the king King Edward hath depos'd: And we his subiects, sworne in all Allegeance, Will apprehend you, as his Enemie

King. But did you neuer sweare, and breake an Oath

Hum. No, neuer such an Oath, nor will not now

King. Where did you dwell when I was K[ing]. of England? Hum. Heere in this Country, where we now remaine

King. I was annointed King at nine monthes old, My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings: And you were sworne true Subiects vnto me: And tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes? Sin. No, for we were Subiects, but while you wer king King. Why? Am I dead? Do I not breath a Man? Ah simple men, you know not what you sweare: Looke, as I blow this Feather from my Face, And as the Ayre blowes it to me againe, Obeying with my winde when I do blow, And yeelding to another, when it blowes, Commanded alwayes by the greater gust: Such is the lightnesse of you, common men. But do not breake your Oathes, for of that sinne, My milde intreatie shall not make you guiltie. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded, And be you kings, command, and Ile obey

Sinklo. We are true Subiects to the king, King Edward

King. So would you be againe to Henrie, If he were seated as king Edward is

Sinklo. We charge you in Gods name & the Kings, To go with vs vnto the Officers

King. In Gods name lead, your Kings name be obeyd, And what God will, that let your King performe. And what he will, I humbly yeeld vnto.

Exeunt.

Enter K[ing]. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray.

King. Brother of Gloster, at S[aint]. Albons field This Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slaine, His Land then seiz'd on by the Conqueror, Her suit is now, to repossesse those Lands, Which wee in Iustice cannot well deny, Because in Quarrell of the House of Yorke, The worthy Gentleman did lose his Life

Rich. Your Highnesse shall doe well to graunt her suit: It were dishonor to deny it her

King. It were no lesse, but yet Ile make a pawse

Rich. Yea, is it so: I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt, Before the King will graunt her humble suit

Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes the winde? Rich. Silence

King. Widow, we will consider of your suit, And come some other time to know our minde

Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay: May it please your Highnesse to resolue me now, And what your pleasure is, shall satisfie me

Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands, And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you: Fight closer, or good faith you'le catch a Blow

Clarence. I feare her not, vnlesse she chance to fall

Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages

King. How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell me

Clarence. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her

Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two

Wid. Three, my most gracious Lord

Rich. You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him

King. 'Twere pittie they should lose their Fathers Lands

Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then

King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes wit

Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue, Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch

King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your Children? Wid. I, full as dearely as I loue my selfe

King. And would you not doe much to doe them good? Wid. To doe them good, I would sustayne some harme

King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them good

Wid. Therefore I came vnto your Maiestie

King. Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got

Wid. So shall you bind me to your Highnesse seruice

King. What seruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue them? Wid. What you command, that rests in me to doe

King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone

Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it

King. I, but thou canst doe what I meane to aske

Wid. Why then I will doe what your Grace commands

Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the Marble

Clar. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt

Wid. Why stoppes my Lord? shall I not heare my Taske? King. An easie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King

Wid. That's soone perform'd, because I am a Subiect

King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue thee

Wid. I take my leaue with many thousand thankes

Rich. The Match is made, shee seales it with a Cursie

King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane

Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege

King. I, but I feare me in another sence. What Loue, think'st thou, I sue so much to get? Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers, That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts

King. No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue

Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did

King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde

Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue Your Highnesse aymes at, if I ayme aright

King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee

Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prison

King. Why then thou shalt not haue thy Husbands Lands

Wid. Why then mine Honestie shall be my Dower, For by that losse, I will not purchase them

King. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily

Wid. Herein your Highnesse wrongs both them & me: But mightie Lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadnesse of my suit: Please you dismisse me, eyther with I, or no

King. I, if thou wilt say I to my request: No, if thou do'st say No to my demand

Wid. Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end

Rich. The Widow likes him not, shee knits her Browes

Clarence. Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christendome

King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty, Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable, All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie, One way, or other, shee is for a King, And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene. Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene? Wid. 'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord: I am a subiect fit to ieast withall, But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne

King. Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee, I speake no more then what my Soule intends, And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue

Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto: I know, I am too meane to be your Queene, And yet too good to be your Concubine

King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene

Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call you Father

King. No more, then when my Daughters Call thee Mother. Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children, And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor, Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing, To be the Father vnto many Sonnes: Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene

Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift

Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift

King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue had

Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very sad

King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie her

Clarence. To who, my Lord? King. Why Clarence, to my selfe

Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least

Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts

Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes

King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both, Her suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands. Enter a Noble man

Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken, And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate

King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower: And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him, To question of his apprehension. Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.

Exeunt.

Manet Richard.

Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably: Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all, That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring, To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for: And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me, The lustfull Edwards Title buryed, Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward, And all the vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies, To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe: A cold premeditation for my purpose. Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie, Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie, And spyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread, Wishing his foot were equall with his eye, And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence, Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way: So doe I wish the Crowne, being so farre off, And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it, And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off, Flattering me with impossibilities: My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much, Vnlesse my Hand and Strength could equall them. Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard: What other Pleasure can the World affoord? Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe, And decke my Body in gay Ornaments, And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes. Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely, Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes. Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe: And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes, Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe, To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub, To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back, Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body; To shape my Legges of an vnequall size, To dis-proportion me in euery part: Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe, That carryes no impression like the Damme. And am I then a man to be belou'd? Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought. Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me, But to command, to check, to o're-beare such, As are of better Person then my selfe: Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne, And whiles I liue, t' account this World but Hell, Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head, Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne. And yet I know not how to get the Crowne, For many Liues stand betweene me and home: And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood, That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes, Seeking a way, and straying from the way, Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre, But toyling desperately to finde it out, Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne: And from that torment I will free my selfe, Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe. Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile, And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart, And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares, And frame my Face to all occasions. Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall, Ile slay more gazers then the Basiliske, Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor, Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could, And like a Synon, take another Troy. I can adde Colours to the Camelion, Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages, And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole. Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne? Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his Admirall, call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward, Queene Margaret, and the Earle of Oxford. Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.

Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret, Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State, And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit

Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margaret Must strike her sayle, and learne a while to serue, Where Kings command. I was (I must confesse) Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes: But now mischance hath trod my Title downe, And with dis-honor layd me on the ground, Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune, And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe

Lewis. Why say, faire Queene, whence springs this deepe despaire? Marg. From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares, And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares

Lewis. What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe, And sit thee by our side.

Seats her by him.

Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake, But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph, Ouer all mischance. Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe, It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe

Marg. Those gracious words Reuiue my drooping thoughts, And giue my tongue-ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake. Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis, That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue, Is, of a King, become a banisht man, And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne; While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke, Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King. This is the cause that I, poore Margaret, With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire, Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde: And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done. Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe: Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led, Our Treasure seiz'd, our Souldiors put to flight, And (as thou seest) our selues in heauie plight

Lewis. Renowned Queene, With patience calme the Storme, While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off

Marg. The more wee stay, the stronger growes our Foe

Lewis. The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee

Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow. And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow. Enter Warwicke.

Lewis. What's hee approacheth boldly to our presence? Marg. Our Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatest Friend

Lewis. Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings thee to France?

Hee descends. Shee ariseth.

Marg. I now begins a second Storme to rise, For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde

Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion, My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend, I come (in Kindnesse, and vnfayned Loue) First, to doe greetings to thy Royall Person, And then to craue a League of Amitie: And lastly, to confirme that Amitie With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to graunt That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sister, To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage

Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done

Warw. And gracious Madame,

Speaking to Bona.

In our Kings behalfe, I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor, Humbly to kisse your Hand, and with my Tongue To tell the passion of my Soueraignes Heart; Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares, Hath plac'd thy Beauties Image, and thy Vertue

Marg. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, heare me speake, Before you answer Warwicke. His demand Springs not from Edwards well-meant honest Loue, But from Deceit, bred by Necessitie: For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home, Vnlesse abroad they purchase great allyance? To proue him Tyrant, this reason may suffice, That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead, Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne. Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and Mariage Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honor: For though Vsurpers sway the rule a while, Yet Heau'ns are iust, and Time suppresseth Wrongs

Warw. Iniurious Margaret

Edw. And why not Queene? Warw. Because thy Father Henry did vsurpe, And thou no more art Prince, then shee is Queene

Oxf. Then Warwicke disanulls great Iohn of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spaine; And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose Wisdome was a Mirror to the wisest: And after that wise Prince, Henry the Fift, Who by his Prowesse conquered all France: From these, our Henry lineally descends

Warw. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse, You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath lost All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten: Me thinkes these Peeres of France should smile at that. But for the rest: you tell a Pedigree Of threescore and two yeeres, a silly time To make prescription for a Kingdomes worth

Oxf. Why Warwicke, canst thou speak against thy Liege, Whom thou obeyd'st thirtie and six yeeres, And not bewray thy Treason with a Blush? Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer fence the right, Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree? For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King

Oxf. Call him my King, by whose iniurious doome My elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey Vere Was done to death? and more then so, my Father, Euen in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yeeres, When Nature brought him to the doore of Death? No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme, This Arme vpholds the House of Lancaster

Warw. And I the House of Yorke

Lewis. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside, While I vse further conference with Warwicke.

They stand aloofe.

Marg. Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes bewitch him not

Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conscience Is Edward your true King? for I were loth To linke with him, that were not lawfull chosen

Warw. Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Honor

Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye? Warw. The more, that Henry was vnfortunate

Lewis. Then further: all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth, the measure of his Loue Vnto our Sister Bona

War. Such it seemes, As may beseeme a Monarch like himselfe. My selfe haue often heard him say, and sweare, That this his Loue was an externall Plant, Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground, The Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne, Exempt from Enuy, but not from Disdaine, Vnlesse the Lady Bona quit his paine

Lewis. Now Sister, let vs heare your firme resolue

Bona. Your graunt, or your denyall, shall be mine. Yet I confesse, that often ere this day,

Speaks to War[wicke].

When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted, Mine eare hath tempted iudgement to desire

Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus: Our Sister shall be Edwards. And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne, Touching the Ioynture that your King must make, Which with her Dowrie shall be counter-poys'd: Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witnesse, That Bona shall be Wife to the English King

Pr.Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King

Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice, By this alliance to make void my suit: Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend

Lewis. And still is friend to him, and Margaret. But if your Title to the Crowne by weake, As may appeare by Edwards good successe: Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd From giuing ayde, which late I promised. Yet shall you haue all kindnesse at my hand, That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld

Warw. Henry now liues in Scotland, at his ease; Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lose. And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene) You haue a Father able to maintaine you, And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France

Mar. Peace impudent, and shamelesse Warwicke, Proud setter vp, and puller downe of Kings, I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares (Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold Thy slye conueyance, and thy Lords false loue,

Post blowing a horne Within.

For both of you are Birds of selfe-same Feather

Lewes. Warwicke, this is some poste to vs, or thee. Enter the Poste.

Post. My Lord Ambassador, These Letters are for you.

Speakes to Warwick,

Sent from your Brother Marquesse Montague. These from our King, vnto your Maiesty.

To Lewis.

And Madam, these for you:

To Margaret

From whom, I know not.

They all reade their Letters.

Oxf. I like it well, that our faire Queene and Mistris Smiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his

Prince Ed. Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he were netled. I hope, all's for the best

Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes? And yours, faire Queene

Mar. Mine such, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes

War. Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent

Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey? And now to sooth your Forgery, and his, Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience? Is this th' Alliance that he seekes with France? Dare he presume to scorne vs in this manner? Mar. I told your Maiesty as much before: This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honesty

War. King Lewis, I heere protest in sight of heauen, And by the hope I haue of heauenly blisse, That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards; No more my King, for he dishonors me, But most himselfe, if he could see his shame. Did I forget, that by the House of Yorke My Father came vntimely to his death? Did I let passe th' abuse done to my Neece? Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne? Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right? And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame? Shame on himselfe, for my Desert is Honor. And to repaire my Honor lost for him, I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry. My Noble Queene, let former grudges passe, And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour: I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona, And replant Henry in his former state

Mar. Warwicke, These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue, And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults, And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend

War. So much his Friend, I, his Vnfained Friend, That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish vs With some few Bands of chosen Soldiours, Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast, And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre. 'Tis not his new-made Bride shall succour him. And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me, Hee's very likely now to fall from him, For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor, Or then for strength and safety of our Country

Bona. Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd, But by thy helpe to this distressed Queene? Mar. Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry liue, Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire? Bona. My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one

War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours

Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets. Therefore, at last, I firmely am resolu'd You shall haue ayde

Mar. Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once

Lew. Then Englands Messenger, returne in Poste, And tell false Edward, thy supposed King, That Lewis of France, is sending ouer Maskers To reuell it with him, and his new Bride. Thou seest what's past, go feare thy King withall

Bona. Tell him, in hope hee'l proue a widower shortly, I weare the Willow Garland for his sake

Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are layde aside, And I am ready to put Armor on

War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore Ile vn-Crowne him, er't be long. There's thy reward, be gone.

Exit Post.

Lew. But Warwicke, Thou and Oxford, with fiue thousand men Shall crosse the Seas, and bid false Edward battaile: And as occasion serues, this Noble Queen And Prince, shall follow with a fresh Supply. Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt: What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty? War. This shall assure my constant Loyalty, That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree, Ile ioyne mine eldest daughter, and my Ioy, To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands

Mar. Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motion. Sonne Edward, she is Faire and Vertuous, Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke, And with thy hand, thy faith irreuocable, That onely Warwickes daughter shall be thine

Prin.Ed. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserues it, And heere to pledge my Vow, I giue my hand.

He giues his hand to Warw[icke].

Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers shalbe leuied, And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admirall Shall waft them ouer with our Royall Fleete. I long till Edward fall by Warres mischance, For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.

Exeunt. Manet Warwicke.

War. I came from Edward as Ambassador, But I returne his sworne and mortall Foe: Matter of Marriage was the charge he gaue me, But dreadfull Warre shall answer his demand. Had he none else to make a stale but me? Then none but I, shall turne his Iest to Sorrow. I was the Cheefe that rais'd him to the Crowne, And Ile be Cheefe to bring him downe againe: Not that I pitty Henries misery, But seeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery. Enter.

Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerset, and Mountague.

Rich. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you Of this new Marriage with the Lady Gray? Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice? Cla. Alas, you know, tis farre from hence to France, How could he stay till Warwicke made returne? Som. My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes the King.

Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Stafford, Hastings: foure stand on one side, and foure on the other.

Rich. And his well-chosen Bride

Clarence. I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke

King. Now Brother of Clarence, How like you our Choyce, That you stand pensiue, as halfe malecontent? Clarence. As well as Lewis of France, Or the Earle of Warwicke, Which are so weake of courage, and in iudgement, That they'le take no offence at our abuse

King. Suppose they take offence without a cause: They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward, Your King and Warwickes, and must haue my will

Rich. And shall haue your will, because our King: Yet hastie Marriage seldome proueth well

King. Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too? Rich. Not I: no: God forbid, that I should wish them seuer'd, Whom God hath ioyn'd together: I, and 'twere pittie, to sunder them, That yoake so well together

King. Setting your skornes, and your mislike aside, Tell me some reason, why the Lady Grey Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene? And you too, Somerset, and Mountague, Speake freely what you thinke

Clarence. Then this is mine opinion: That King Lewis becomes your Enemie, For mocking him about the Marriage Of the Lady Bona

Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge, Is now dis-honored by this new Marriage

King. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd, By such inuention as I can deuise? Mount. Yet, to haue ioyn'd with France in such alliance, Would more haue strength'ned this our Commonwealth 'Gainst forraine stormes, then any home-bred Marriage

Hast. Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it selfe, England is safe, if true within it selfe? Mount. But the safer, when 'tis back'd with France

Hast. 'Tis better vsing France, then trusting France: Let vs be back'd with God, and with the Seas, Which he hath giu'n for fence impregnable, And with their helpes, onely defend our selues: In them, and in our selues, our safetie lyes

Clar. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserues To haue the Heire of the Lord Hungerford

King. I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt, And for this once, my Will shall stand for Law

Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well, To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales Vnto the Brother of your louing Bride; Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence: But in your Bride you burie Brotherhood

Clar. Or else you would not haue bestow'd the Heire Of the Lord Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne, And leaue your Brothers to goe speede elsewhere

King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife That thou art malecontent? I will prouide thee

Clarence. In chusing for your selfe, You shew'd your iudgement: Which being shallow, you shall giue me leaue To play the Broker in mine owne behalfe; And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you

King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King, And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will

Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd his Maiestie To rayse my State to Title of a Queene, Doe me but right, and you must all confesse, That I was not ignoble of Descent, And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune. But as this Title honors me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with sorrow

King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes: What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee, So long as Edward is thy constant friend, And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall obey, and loue thee too, Vnlesse they seeke for hatred at my hands: Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe, And they shall feele the vengeance of my wrath

Rich. I heare, yet say not much, but thinke the more. Enter a Poste

King. Now Messenger, what Letters, or what Newes from France? Post. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words, But such, as I (without your speciall pardon) Dare not relate

King. Goe too, wee pardon thee: Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words, As neere as thou canst guesse them. What answer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters? Post. At my depart, these were his very words: Goe tell false Edward, the supposed King, That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers, To reuell it with him, and his new Bride

King. Is Lewis so braue? belike he thinkes me Henry. But what said Lady Bona to my Marriage? Post. These were her words, vtt'red with mild disdaine: Tell him, in hope hee'le proue a Widower shortly, Ile weare the Willow Garland for his sake

King. I blame not her; she could say little lesse: She had the wrong. But what said Henries Queene? For I haue heard, that she was there in place

Post. Tell him (quoth she) My mourning Weedes are done, And I am readie to put Armour on

King. Belike she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwicke to these iniuries? Post. He, more incens'd against your Maiestie, Then all the rest, discharg'd me with these words: Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long

King. Ha? durst the Traytor breath out so prowd words? Well, I will arme me, being thus fore-warn'd: They shall haue Warres, and pay for their presumption. But say, is Warwicke friends with Margaret? Post. I, gracious Soueraigne, They are so link'd in friendship, That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwicks Daughter

Clarence. Belike, the elder; Clarence will haue the younger. Now Brother King farewell, and sit you fast, For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter, That though I want a Kingdome, yet in Marriage I may not proue inferior to your selfe. You that loue me, and Warwicke, follow me.

Exit Clarence, and Somerset followes.

Rich. Not I: My thoughts ayme at a further matter: I stay not for the loue of Edward, but the Crowne

King. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwicke? Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen: And haste is needfull in this desp'rate case. Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalfe Goe leuie men, and make prepare for Warre; They are alreadie, or quickly will be landed: My selfe in person will straight follow you.

Exeunt. Pembrooke and Stafford.

But ere I goe, Hastings and Mountague Resolue my doubt: you twaine, of all the rest, Are neere to Warwicke, by bloud, and by allyance: Tell me, if you loue Warwicke more then me; If it be so, then both depart to him: I rather wish you foes, then hollow friends. But if you minde to hold your true obedience, Giue me assurance with some friendly Vow, That I may neuer haue you in suspect

Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as hee proues true

Hast. And Hastings, as hee fauours Edwards cause

King. Now, Brother Richard, will you stand by vs? Rich. I, in despight of all that shall withstand you

King. Why so: then am I sure of Victorie. Now therefore let vs hence, and lose no howre, Till wee meet Warwicke, with his forreine powre.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke and Oxford in England, with French Souldiors.

Warw. Trust me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well, The common people by numbers swarme to vs. Enter Clarence and Somerset.

But see where Somerset and Clarence comes: Speake suddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends? Clar. Feare not that, my Lord

Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke, And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardize, To rest mistrustfull, where a Noble Heart Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue; Else might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother, Were but a fained friend to our proceedings: But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine. And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture, Thy Brother being carelessely encamp'd, His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about, And but attended by a simple Guard, Wee may surprize and take him at our pleasure, Our Scouts haue found the aduenture very easie: That as Vlysses, and stout Diomede, With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents, And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds; So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle, At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard, And seize himselfe: I say not, slaughter him, For I intend but onely to surprize 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, For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.

Exeunt.

Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.

1.Watch. Come on my Masters, each man take his stand, The King by this, is set him downe to sleepe

2.Watch. What, will he not to Bed? 1.Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a solemne Vow, Neuer to lye and take his naturall Rest, Till Warwicke, or himselfe, be quite supprest

2.Watch. To morrow then belike shall be the day, If Warwicke be so neere as men report

3.Watch. But say, I pray, what Noble man is that, That with the King here resteth in his Tent? 1.Watch. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the Kings chiefest friend

3.Watch. O, is it so? but why commands the King, That his chiefe followers lodge in Townes about him, While he himselfe keepes in the cold field? 2.Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous

3.Watch. I, but giue me worship, and quietnesse, I like it better then a dangerous honor. If Warwicke knew in what estate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted if he would waken him

1.Watch. Vnlesse our Halberds did shut vp his passage

2.Watch. I: wherefore else guard we his Royall Tent, But to defend his Person from Night-foes? Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, and French Souldiors, silent all.

Warw. This is his Tent, and see where stand his Guard: Courage my Masters: Honor now, or neuer: But follow me, and Edward shall be ours

1.Watch. Who goes there? 2.Watch. Stay, or thou dyest.

Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke, and set vpon the Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme, Warwicke and the rest following them.

The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding. Enter Warwicke, Somerset, and the rest, bringing the King out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire: Richard and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage

Som. What are they that flye there? Warw. Richard and Hastings: let them goe, heere is the Duke

K.Edw. The Duke? Why Warwicke, when wee parted, Thou call'dst me King

Warw. I, but the case is alter'd. When you disgrac'd me in my Embassade, Then I degraded you from being King, And come now to create you Duke of Yorke. Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome, That know not how to vse Embassadors, Nor how to be contented with one Wife, Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly, Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare, Nor how to shrowd your selfe from Enemies? K.Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence, Art thou here too? Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe. Yet Warwicke, in despight of all mischance, Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices, Edward will alwayes beare himselfe as King: Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my State, My minde exceedes the compasse of her Wheele

Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,

Takes off his Crowne.

But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne, And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow. My Lord of Somerset, at my request, See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'd Vnto my Brother Arch-Bishop of Yorke: When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes, Ile follow you, and tell what answer Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him. Now for a-while farewell good Duke of Yorke.

They leade him out forcibly.

K.Ed. What Fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both winde and tide.

Exeunt.

Oxf. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do, But march to London with our Soldiers? War. I, that's the first thing that we haue to do, To free King Henry from imprisonment, And see him seated in the Regall Throne. Enter.

Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.

Riu. Madam, what makes you in this sodain change? Gray. Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learne What late misfortune is befalne King Edward? Riu. What losse of some pitcht battell Against Warwicke? Gray. No, but the losse of his owne Royall person

Riu. Then is my Soueraigne slaine? Gray. I almost slaine, for he is taken prisoner, Either betrayd by falshood of his Guard, Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares: And as I further haue to vnderstand, Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke, Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe

Riu. These Newes I must confesse are full of greefe, Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may, Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day

Gray. Till then, faire hope must hinder liues decay: And I the rather waine me from dispaire For loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe: This is it that makes me bridle passion, And beare with Mildnesse my misfortunes crosse: I, I, for this I draw in many a teare, And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighes, Least with my sighes or teares, I blast or drowne King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne

Riu. But Madam, Where is Warwicke then become? Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London, To set the Crowne once more on Henries head, Guesse thou the rest, King Edwards Friends must downe. But to preuent the Tyrants violence, (For trust not him that hath once broken Faith) Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary, To saue (at least) the heire of Edwards right: There shall I rest secure from force and fraud: Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye, If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley.

Rich. Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley Leaue off to wonder why I drew you hither, Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke. Thus stand the case: you know our King, my Brother, Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands He hath good vsage, and great liberty, And often but attended with weake guard, Come hunting this way to disport himselfe. I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes, That if about this houre he make this way, Vnder the colour of his vsuall game, He shall heere finde his Friends with Horse and Men, To set him free from his Captiuitie. Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman with him.

Huntsman. This way my Lord, For this way lies the Game

King Edw. Nay this way man, See where the Huntsmen stand. Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Stand you thus close to steale the Bishops Deere? Rich. Brother, the time and case, requireth hast, Your horse stands ready at the Parke-corner

King Ed. But whether shall we then? Hast. To Lyn my Lord, And shipt from thence to Flanders

Rich. Wel guest beleeue me, for that was my meaning K.Ed. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardnesse

Rich. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talke

K.Ed. Huntsman, what say'st thou? Wilt thou go along? Hunts. Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd

Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo

K.Ed. Bishop farwell, Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne, And pray that I may re-possesse the Crowne.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke, Somerset, young Henry, Oxford, Mountague, and Lieutenant.

K.Hen. M[aster]. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends Haue shaken Edward from the Regall seate, And turn'd my captiue state to libertie, My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes, At our enlargement what are thy due Fees? Lieu. Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains But, if an humble prayer may preuaile, I then craue pardon of your Maiestie

K.Hen. For what, Lieutenant? For well vsing me? Nay, be thou sure, Ile well requite thy kindnesse. For that it made my imprisonment, a pleasure: I, such a pleasure, as incaged Birds Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts, At last, by Notes of Houshold harmonie, They quite forget their losse of Libertie. But Warwicke, after God, thou set'st me free, And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee, He was the Author, thou the Instrument. Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight, By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me, And that the people of this blessed Land May not be punisht with my thwarting starres, Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne, I here resigne my Gouernment to thee, For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds

Warw. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous, And now may seeme as wise as vertuous, By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice, For few men rightly temper with the Starres: Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace, For chusing me, when Clarence is in place

Clar. No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the sway, To whom the Heau'ns in thy Natiuitie, Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne, As likely to be blest in Peace and Warre: And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent

Warw. And I chuse Clarence onely for Protector

King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands: Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts, That no dissention hinder Gouernment: I make you both Protectors of this Land, While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life, And in deuotion spend my latter dayes, To sinnes rebuke, and my Creators prayse

Warw. What answeres Clarence to his Soueraignes will? Clar. That he consents, if Warwicke yeeld consent, For on thy fortune I repose my selfe

Warw. Why then, though loth, yet must I be content: Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadow To Henries Body, and supply his place; I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment, While he enioyes the Honor, and his ease. And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull, Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor, And all his Lands and Goods confiscate

Clar. What else? and that Succession be determined

Warw. I, therein Clarence shall not want his part

King. But with the first, of all your chiefe affaires, Let me entreat (for I command no more) That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward, Be sent for, to returne from France with speed: For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare, My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd

Clar. It shall bee done, my Soueraigne, with all speede

King. My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that, Of whom you seeme to haue so tender care? Somers. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Richmond

King. Come hither, Englands Hope:

Layes his Hand on his Head.

If secret Powers suggest but truth To my diuining thoughts, This prettie Lad will proue our Countries blisse. His Lookes are full of peacefull Maiestie, His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne, His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfe Likely in time to blesse a Regall Throne: Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee Must helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee. Enter a Poste.

Warw. What newes, my friend? Poste. That Edward is escaped from your Brother, And fled (as hee heares since) to Burgundie

Warw. Vnsauorie newes: but how made he escape? Poste. He was conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloster, And the Lord Hastings, who attended him In secret ambush, on the Forrest side, And from the Bishops Huntsmen rescu'd him: For Hunting was his dayly Exercise

Warw. My Brother was too carelesse of his charge. But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouide A salue for any sore, that may betide.

Exeunt.

Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.

Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards: For doubtlesse, Burgundie will yeeld him helpe, And we shall haue more Warres befor't be long. As Henries late presaging Prophecie Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond: So doth my heart mis-giue me, in these Conflicts, What may befall him, to his harme and ours. Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst, Forthwith wee'le send him hence to Brittanie, Till stormes be past of Ciuill Enmitie

Oxf. I: for if Edward re-possesse the Crowne, 'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall downe

Som. It shall be so: he shall to Brittanie. Come therefore, let's about it speedily.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Souldiers.

Edw. Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest, Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends, And sayes, that once more I shall enterchange My wained state, for Henries Regall Crowne. Well haue we pass'd, and now re-pass'd the Seas, And brought desired helpe from Burgundie. What then remaines, we being thus arriu'd From Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke, But that we enter, as into our Dukedome? Rich. The Gates made fast? Brother, I like not this. For many men that stumble at the Threshold, Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within

Edw. Tush man, aboadments must not now affright vs: By faire or foule meanes we must enter in, For hither will our friends repaire to vs

Hast. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to summon them. Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke, and his Brethren.

Maior. My Lords, We were fore-warned of your comming, And shut the Gates, for safetie of our selues; For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry

Edw. But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King, Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of Yorke

Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for no lesse

Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome, As being well content with that alone

Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose, Hee'le soone finde meanes to make the Body follow

Hast. Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt? Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends

Maior. I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.

He descends.

Rich. A wise stout Captaine, and soone perswaded

Hast. The good old man would faine that all were wel, So 'twere not long of him: but being entred, I doubt not I, but we shall soone perswade Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason. Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.

Edw. So, Master Maior: these Gates must not be shut, But in the Night, or in the time of Warre. What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,

Takes his Keyes.

For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee, And all those friends, that deine to follow mee.

March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme and Souldiers.

Rich. Brother, this is Sir Iohn Mountgomerie, Our trustie friend, vnlesse I be deceiu'd

Edw. Welcome Sir Iohn: but why come you in Armes? Mount. To helpe King Edward in his time of storme, As euery loyall Subiect ought to doe

Edw. Thankes good Mountgomerie: But we now forget our Title to the Crowne, And onely clayme our Dukedome, Till God please to send the rest

Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe, I came to serue a King, and not a Duke: Drummer strike vp, and let vs march away.

The Drumme begins to march.

Edw. Nay stay, Sir Iohn, a while, and wee'le debate By what safe meanes the Crowne may be recouer'd

Mount. What talke you of debating? in few words, If you'le not here proclaime your selfe our King, Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be gone, To keepe them back, that come to succour you. Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title? Rich. Why Brother, wherefore stand you on nice points? Edw. When wee grow stronger, Then wee'le make our Clayme: Till then, 'tis wisdome to conceale our meaning

Hast. Away with scrupulous Wit, now Armes must rule

Rich. And fearelesse minds clyme soonest vnto Crowns. Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand, The bruit thereof will bring you many friends

Edw. Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right, And Henry but vsurpes the Diademe

Mount. I, now my Soueraigne speaketh like himselfe, And now will I be Edwards Champion

Hast. Sound Trumpet, Edward shal be here proclaim'd: Come, fellow Souldior, make thou proclamation.

Flourish. Sound.

Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c

Mount. And whosoe're gainsayes King Edwards right, By this I challenge him to single fight.

Throwes downe his Gauntlet.

All. Long liue Edward the Fourth

Edw. Thankes braue Mountgomery, And thankes vnto you all: If fortune serue me, Ile requite this kindnesse. Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Yorke: And when the Morning Sunne shall rayse his Carre Aboue the Border of this Horizon, Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates; For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier. Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beseemes thee, To flatter Henry, and forsake thy Brother? Yet as wee may, wee'le meet both thee and Warwicke. Come on braue Souldiors: doubt not of the Day, And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague, Clarence, Oxford, and Somerset.

War. What counsaile, Lords? Edward from Belgia, With hastie Germanes, and blunt Hollanders, Hath pass'd in safetie through the Narrow Seas, And with his troupes doth march amaine to London, And many giddie people flock to him

King. Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe

Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out, Which being suffer'd, Riuers cannot quench

War. In Warwickshire I haue true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre, Those will I muster vp: and thou Sonne Clarence Shalt stirre vp in Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent, The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee. Thou Brother Mountague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st. And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well belou'd, In Oxfordshire shalt muster vp thy friends. My Soueraigne, with the louing Citizens, Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean, Or modest Dyan, circled with her Nymphs, Shall rest in London, till we come to him: Faire Lords take leaue, and stand not to reply. Farewell my Soueraigne

King. Farewell my Hector, and my Troyes true hope

Clar. In signe of truth, I kisse your Highnesse Hand

King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate

Mount. Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leaue

Oxf. And thus I seale my truth, and bid adieu

King. Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague, And all at once, once more a happy farewell

War. Farewell, sweet Lords, let's meet at Couentry.

Exeunt.

King. Here at the Pallace will I rest a while. Cousin of Exeter, what thinkes your Lordship? Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field, Should not be able to encounter mine

Exet. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest

King. That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame: I haue not stopt mine eares to their demands, Nor posted off their suites with slow delayes, My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds, My mildnesse hath allay'd their swelling griefes, My mercie dry'd their water-flowing teares. I haue not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much opprest them with great Subsidies, Nor forward of reuenge, though they much err'd. Then why should they loue Edward more then me? No Exeter, these Graces challenge Grace: And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe, The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.

Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.

Exet. Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are these? Enter Edward and his Souldiers.

Edw. Seize on the shamefac'd Henry, beare him hence, And once againe proclaime vs King of England. You are the Fount, that makes small Brookes to flow, Now stops thy Spring, my Sea shall suck them dry, And swell so much the higher, by their ebbe. Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.

Exit with King Henry.

And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course, Where peremptorie Warwicke now remaines: The Sunne shines hot, and if we vse delay, Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd-for Hay

Rich. Away betimes, before his forces ioyne, And take the great-growne Traytor vnawares: Braue Warriors, march amaine towards Couentry.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two Messengers, and others vpon the Walls.

War. Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford? How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow? Mess .1. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward

War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague? Where is the Post that came from Mountague? Mess. 2. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troope. Enter Someruile.

War. Say Someruile, what sayes my louing Sonne? And by thy guesse, how nigh is Clarence now? Someru. At Southam I did leaue him with his forces, And doe expect him here some two howres hence

War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme

Someru. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes: The Drum your Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke

War. Who should that be? belike vnlook'd for friends

Someru. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, and Souldiers.

Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle

Rich. See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall

War. Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come? Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could heare no newes of his repayre

Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates, Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee, Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy, And he shall pardon thee these Outrages? War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confesse who set thee vp, and pluckt thee downe, Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent, And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke

Rich. I thought at least he would haue said the King, Or did he make the Ieast against his will? War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift? Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue, Ile doe thee seruice for so good a gift

War. 'Twas I that gaue the Kingdome to thy Brother

Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift

War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe, And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subiect

Edw. But Warwickes King is Edwards Prisoner: And gallant Warwicke, doe but answer this, What is the Body, when the Head is off? Rich. Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore-cast, But whiles he thought to steale the single Ten, The King was slyly finger'd from the Deck: You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace, And tenne to one you'le meet him in the Tower

Edw. 'Tis euen so, yet you are Warwicke still

Rich. Come Warwicke, Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe: Nay when? strike now, or else the Iron cooles

War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow, And with the other, fling it at thy face, Then beare so low a sayle, to strike to thee

Edw. Sayle how thou canst, Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend, This Hand, fast wound about thy coale-black hayre, Shall, whiles thy Head is warme, and new cut off, Write in the dust this Sentence with thy blood, Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more. Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.

War. Oh chearefull Colours, see where Oxford comes

Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster

Rich. The Gates are open, let vs enter too

Edw. So other foes may set vpon our backs. Stand we in good array: for they no doubt Will issue out againe, and bid vs battaile; If not, the Citie being but of small defence, Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors in the same

War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe. Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.

Mount. Mountague, Mountague, for Lancaster

Rich. Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason Euen with the dearest blood your bodies beare

Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Victorie, My minde presageth happy gaine, and Conquest. Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.

Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster

Rich. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset, Haue sold their Liues vnto the House of Yorke, And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold. Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.

War. And loe, where George of Clarence sweepes along, Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile: With whom, in vpright zeale to right, preuailes More then the nature of a Brothers Loue. Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call

Clar. Father of Warwicke, know you what this meanes? Looke here, I throw my infamie at thee: I will not ruinate my Fathers House, Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together, And set vp Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwicke, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, vnnaturall, To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre Against his Brother, and his lawfull King. Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath: To keepe that Oath, were more impietie, Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter. I am so sorry for my Trespas made, That to deserue well at my Brothers hands, I here proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe: With resolution, wheresoe're I meet thee, (As I will meet thee, if thou stirre abroad) To plague thee, for thy foule mis-leading me. And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee, And to my Brother turne my blushing Cheekes. Pardon me Edward, I will make amends: And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more vnconstant

Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd, Then if thou neuer hadst deseru'd our hate

Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like

Warw. Oh passing Traytor, periur'd and vniust

Edw. What Warwicke, Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight? Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares? Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence: I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st

Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way: Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie.

Exeunt.

March. Warwicke and his companie followes.

Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwicke wounded.

Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare, For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all. Now Mountague sit fast, I seeke for thee, That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie. Enter.

Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe, And tell me who is Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke? Why aske I that? my mangled body shewes, My blood, my want of strength, my sicke heart shewes, That I must yeeld my body to the Earth, And by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge, Whose Armes gaue shelter to the Princely Eagle, Vnder whose shade the ramping Lyon slept, Whose top-branch ouer-peer'd Ioues spreading Tree, And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde. These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle, Haue beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne, To search the secret Treasons of the World: The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood, Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers: For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue? And who durst smile, when Warwicke bent his Brow? Loe, now my Glory smear'd in dust and blood. My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had, Euen now forsake me; and of all my Lands, Is nothing left me, but my bodies length. Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust? And liue we how we can, yet dye we must. Enter Oxford and Somerset.

Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are, We might recouer all our Losse againe: The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power. Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye

Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague, If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand, And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while. Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou did'st, Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood, That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake. Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead

Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last, And to the latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke: And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother. And more he would haue said, and more he spoke, Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault, That mought not be distinguisht: but at last, I well might heare, deliuered with a groane, Oh farewell Warwicke

Warw. Sweet rest his Soule: Flye Lords, and saue your selues, For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen

Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and the rest.

King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course, And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie: But in the midst of this bright-shining Day, I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud, That will encounter with our glorious Sunne, Ere he attaine his easefull Westerne Bed: I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast, And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs

Clar. A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud, And blow it to the Source from whence it came, Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp, For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme

Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong, And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her: If she haue time to breathe, be well assur'd Her faction will be full as strong as ours

King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends, That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury. We hauing now the best at Barnet field, Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way, And as we march, our strength will be augmented: In euery Countie as we goe along, Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.

Exeunt.

Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and Souldiers.

Qu. Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse, But chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes. What though the Mast be now blowne ouer-boord, The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost, And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood? Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad, With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea, And giue more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock, Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd? Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this. Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that? And Mountague our Top-Mast: what of him? Our slaught'red friends, the Tackles: what of these? Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor? And Somerset, another goodly Mast? The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings? And though vnskilfull, why not Ned and I, For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge? We will not from the Helme, to sit and weepe, But keepe our Course (though the rough Winde say no) From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack. As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire. And what is Edward, but a ruthlesse Sea? What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit? And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke? All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke. Say you can swim, alas 'tis but a while: Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke, Bestride the Rock, the Tyde will wash you off, Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death. This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderstand, If case some one of you would flye from vs, That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers, More then with ruthlesse Waues, with Sands and Rocks. Why courage then, what cannot be auoided, 'Twere childish weakenesse to lament, or feare

Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit, Should, if a Coward heard her speake these words, Infuse his Breast with Magnanimitie, And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes. I speake not this, as doubting any here: For did I but suspect a fearefull man, He should haue leaue to goe away betimes, Least in our need he might infect another, And make him of like spirit to himselfe. If any such be here, as God forbid, Let him depart, before we neede his helpe

Oxf. Women and Children of so high a courage, And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame. Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue, To beare his Image, and renew his Glories

Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope, Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at

Qu. Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes

Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing else. Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand, Readie to fight: therefore be resolute

Oxf. I thought no lesse: it is his Policie, To haste thus fast, to finde vs vnprouided

Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse

Qu. This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse

Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.

Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and Souldiers.

Edw. Braue followers, yonder stands the thornie Wood, Which by the Heauens assistance, and your strength, Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp yet ere Night. I need not adde more fuell to your fire, For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out: Giue signall to the fight, and to it Lords

Qu. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say, My teares gaine-say: for euery word I speake, Ye see I drinke the water of my eye. Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State vsurp'd, His Realme a slaughter-house, his Subiects slaine, His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent: And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle. You fight in Iustice: then in Gods Name, Lords, Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset.

Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles. Away with Oxford, to Hames Castle straight: For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head. Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake

Oxf. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words

Som. Nor I, but stoupe with patience to my fortune.

Exeunt.

Qu. So part we sadly in this troublous World, To meet with Ioy in sweet Ierusalem

Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward, Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life? Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes. Enter the Prince.

Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake. What? can so young a Thorne begin to prick? Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects, And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? Prince. Speake like a Subiect, prowd ambitious Yorke. Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth, Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou, Whil'st I propose the selfe-same words to thee, Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me answer to

Qu. Ah, that thy Father had beene so resolu'd

Rich. That you might still haue worne the Petticoat, And ne're haue stolne the Breech from Lancaster

Prince. Let Aesop fable in a Winters Night, His Currish Riddles sorts not with this place

Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word

Qu. I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men

Rich. For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold

Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crooke-backe, rather

Edw. Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your tongue

Clar. Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert

Prince. I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull: Lasciuious Edward, and thou periur'd George, And thou mis-shapen Dicke, I tell ye all, I am your better, Traytors as ye are, And thou vsurp'st my Fathers right and mine

Edw. Take that, the likenesse of this Rayler here.

Stabs him.

Rich. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agonie.

Rich[ard]. stabs him.

Clar. And ther's for twitting me with periurie.

Clar[ence]. stabs him.

Qu. Oh, kill me too

Rich. Marry, and shall.

Offers to kill her.

Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much

Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with words

Edw. What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her recouerie

Rich. Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother: Ile hence to London on a serious matter, Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes

Cla. What? what? Rich. Tower, the Tower. Enter.

Qu. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy. Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers! They that stabb'd Csar, shed no blood at all: Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame, If this foule deed were by, to equall it. He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe, And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe. What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it? No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake, And I will speake, that so my heart may burst. Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes, How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt: You haue no children (Butchers) if you had, The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse, But if you euer chance to haue a Childe, Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off. As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince

King. Away with her, go beare her hence perforce

Qu. Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere: Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death: What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou

Cla. By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease

Qu. Good Clarence do: sweet Clarence do thou do it

Cla. Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it? Qu. I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe. 'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity What wilt y not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard? Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed: Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe

Ed. Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence, Qu. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.

Exit Queene.

Ed. Where's Richard gone

Cla. To London all in post, and as I guesse, To make a bloody Supper in the Tower

Ed. He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence, discharge the common sort With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London, And see our gentle Queene how well she fares, By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me. Enter.

Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant on the Walles.

Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so hard? Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather, Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better: 'Good Gloster, and good Deuill, were alike, And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord

Rich. Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre

Hen. So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from y Wolfe: So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece, And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife. What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte? Rich. Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde, The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer, Hen. The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush; And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird, Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye, Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd

Rich. Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet, That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle, And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd

Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus, Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course, The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy. Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life: Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words, My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point, Then can my eares that Tragicke History. But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life? Rich. Think'st thou I am an Executioner? Hen. A Persecutor I am sure thou art, If murthering Innocents be Executing, Why then thou art an Executioner

Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption

Hen. Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first y didst presume, Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine: And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand, Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare, And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes, And many an Orphans water-standing-eye, Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands, Orphans, for their Parents timeles death, Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne. The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe, The Night-Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time, Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempest shook down Trees: The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top, And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung: Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine, And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope, To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe, Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree. Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne, To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world: And if the rest be true, which I haue heard, Thou cam'st- Rich. Ile heare no more: Dye Prophet in thy speech,

Stabbes him.

For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd

Hen. I, and for much more slaughter after this, O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee.

Dyes.

Rich. What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted. See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death. O may such purple teares be alway shed From those that wish the downfall of our house. If any sparke of Life be yet remaining, Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.

Stabs him againe.

I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare, Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of: For I haue often heard my Mother say, I came into the world with my Legges forward. Had I not reason (thinke ye) to make hast, And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right? The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth, And so I was, which plainly signified, That I should snarle, and bite, and play the dogge: Then since the Heauens haue shap'd my Body so, Let Hell make crook'd my Minde to answer it. I haue no Brother, I am like no Brother: And this word (Loue) which Gray-beards call Diuine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me: I am my selfe alone. Clarence beware, thou keept'st me from the Light, But I will sort a pitchy day for thee: For I will buzze abroad such Prophesies, That Edward shall be fearefull of his life, And then to purge his feare, Ile be thy death. King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone, Clarence thy turne is next, and then the rest, Counting my selfe but bad, till I be best. Ile throw thy body in another roome, And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome. Enter.

Flourish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hastings, Nurse, and Attendants.

King. Once more we sit in Englands Royall Throne, Re-purchac'd with the Blood of Enemies: What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumnes Corne, Haue we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride? Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renowne, For hardy and vndoubted Champions: Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Sonne, And two Northumberlands: two brauer men, Ne're spurr'd their Coursers at the Trumpets sound. With them, the two braue Beares, Warwick & Montague, That in their Chaines fetter'd the Kingly Lyon, And made the Forrest tremble when they roar'd. Thus haue we swept Suspition from our Seate, And made our Footstoole of Security. Come hither Besse, and let me kisse my Boy: Yong Ned, for thee, thine Vnckles, and my selfe, Haue in our Armors watcht the Winters night, Went all afoote in Summers scalding heate, That thou might'st repossesse the Crowne in peace, And of our Labours thou shalt reape the gaine

Rich. Ile blast his Haruest, if your head were laid, For yet I am not look'd on in the world. This shoulder was ordain'd so thicke, to heaue, And heaue it shall some waight, or breake my backe, Worke thou the way, and that shalt execute

King. Clarence and Gloster, loue my louely Queene, And kis your Princely Nephew Brothers both

Cla. The duty that I owe vnto your Maiesty, I Seale vpon the lips of this sweet Babe

Cla. Thanke Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks

Rich. And that I loue the tree fro[m] whence y sprang'st: Witnesse the louing kisse I giue the Fruite, To say the truth, so Iudas kist his master, And cried all haile, when as he meant all harme

King. Now am I seated as my soule delights, Hauing my Countries peace, and Brothers loues

Cla. What will your Grace haue done with Margaret, Reynard her Father, to the King of France Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ierusalem, And hither haue they sent it for her ransome

King. Away with her, and waft her hence to France: And now what rests, but that we spend the time With stately Triumphes, mirthfull Comicke shewes, Such as befits the pleasure of the Court. Sound Drums and Trumpets, farwell sowre annoy, For heere I hope begins our lasting ioy.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. The third Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Duke of YORKE.

The Tragedie of Richard the Third

with the Landing of Earle Richmond, and the Battell at Bosworth Field

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Enter Richard Duke of Gloster, solus.

Now is the Winter of our Discontent, Made glorious Summer by this Son of Yorke: And all the clouds that lowr'd vpon our house In the deepe bosome of the Ocean buried. Now are our browes bound with Victorious Wreathes, Our bruised armes hung vp for Monuments; Our sterne Alarums chang'd to merry Meetings; Our dreadfull Marches, to delightfull Measures. Grim-visag'd Warre, hath smooth'd his wrinkled Front: And now, in stead of mounting Barbed Steeds, To fright the Soules of fearfull Aduersaries, He capers nimbly in a Ladies Chamber, To the lasciuious pleasing of a Lute. But I, that am not shap'd for sportiue trickes, Nor made to court an amorous Looking-glasse: I, that am Rudely stampt, and want loues Maiesty, To strut before a wonton ambling Nymph: I, that am curtail'd of this faire Proportion, Cheated of Feature by dissembling Nature, Deform'd, vn-finish'd, sent before my time Into this breathing World, scarse halfe made vp, And that so lamely and vnfashionable, That dogges barke at me, as I halt by them. Why I (in this weake piping time of Peace) Haue no delight to passe away the time, Vnlesse to see my Shadow in the Sunne, And descant on mine owne Deformity. And therefore, since I cannot proue a Louer, To entertaine these faire well spoken dayes, I am determined to proue a Villaine, And hate the idle pleasures of these dayes. Plots haue I laide, Inductions dangerous, By drunken Prophesies, Libels, and Dreames, To set my Brother Clarence and the King In deadly hate, the one against the other: And if King Edward be as true and iust, As I am Subtle, False, and Treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd vp: About a Prophesie, which sayes that G, Of Edwards heyres the murtherer shall be. Diue thoughts downe to my soule, here Clarence comes. Enter Clarence, and Brakenbury, guarded.

Brother, good day: What meanes this armed guard That waites vpon your Grace? Cla. His Maiesty tendring my persons safety, Hath appointed this Conduct, to conuey me to th' Tower Rich. Vpon what cause? Cla. Because my name is George

Rich. Alacke my Lord, that fault is none of yours: He should for that commit your Godfathers. O belike, his Maiesty hath some intent, That you should be new Christned in the Tower, But what's the matter Clarence, may I know? Cla. Yea Richard, when I know: but I protest As yet I do not: But as I can learne, He hearkens after Prophesies and Dreames, And from the Crosse-row pluckes the letter G: And sayes, a Wizard told him, that by G, His issue disinherited should be. And for my name of George begins with G, It followes in his thought, that I am he. These (as I learne) and such like toyes as these, Hath moou'd his Highnesse to commit me now

Rich. 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 'tis shee, That tempts him to this harsh Extremity. Was it not shee, and that good man of Worship, Anthony Woodeuile her Brother there, That made him send Lord Hastings to the Tower? From whence this present day he is deliuered? We are not safe Clarence, we are not safe

Cla. By heauen, I thinke there is no man secure But the Queenes Kindred, and night-walking Heralds, That trudge betwixt the King, and Mistris Shore. Heard you not what an humble Suppliant Lord Hastings was, for her deliuery? Rich. Humbly complaining to her Deitie, Got my Lord Chamberlaine his libertie. Ile tell you what, I thinke it is our way, If we will keepe in fauour with the King, To be her men, and weare her Liuery. The iealous ore-worne Widdow, and her selfe, Since that our Brother dub'd them Gentlewomen, Are mighty Gossips in our Monarchy

Bra. I beseech your Graces both to pardon me, His Maiesty hath straightly giuen in charge, That no man shall haue priuate Conference (Of what degree soeuer) with your Brother

Rich. Euen so, and please your Worship Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say: We speake no Treason man; We say the King Is wise and vertuous, and his Noble Queene Well strooke in yeares, faire, and not iealious. We say, that Shores Wife hath a pretty Foot, A cherry Lip, a bonny Eye, a passing pleasing tongue: And that the Queenes Kindred are made gentle Folkes. How say you sir? can you deny all this? Bra. With this (my Lord) my selfe haue nought to doo

Rich. Naught to do with Mistris Shore? I tell thee Fellow, he that doth naught with her (Excepting one) were best to do it secretly alone

Bra. What one, my Lord? Rich. Her Husband Knaue, would'st thou betray me? Bra. I do beseech your Grace To pardon me, and withall forbeare Your Conference with the Noble Duke

Cla. We know thy charge Brakenbury, and wil obey

Rich. We are the Queenes abiects, and must obey. Brother farewell, I will vnto the King, And whatsoe're you will imploy me in, Were it to call King Edwards Widdow, Sister, I will performe it to infranchise you. Meane time, this deepe disgrace in Brotherhood, Touches me deeper then you can imagine

Cla. I know it pleaseth neither of vs well

Rich. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long, I will deliuer you, or else lye for you: Meane time, haue patience

Cla. I must perforce: Farewell.

Exit Clar[ence].

Rich. Go treade the path that thou shalt ne're return: Simple plaine Clarence, I do loue thee so, That I will shortly send thy Soule to Heauen, If Heauen will take the present at our hands. But who comes heere? the new deliuered Hastings? Enter Lord Hastings.

Hast. Good time of day vnto my gracious Lord

Rich. As much vnto my good Lord Chamberlaine: Well are you welcome to this open Ayre, How hath your Lordship brook'd imprisonment? Hast. With patience (Noble Lord) as prisoners must: But I shall liue (my Lord) to giue them thankes That were the cause of my imprisonment

Rich. No doubt, no doubt, and so shall Clarence too, For they that were your Enemies, are his, And haue preuail'd as much on him, as you, Hast. More pitty, that the Eagles should be mew'd, Whiles Kites and Buzards play at liberty

Rich. What newes abroad? Hast. No newes so bad abroad, as this at home: The King is sickly, weake, and melancholly, And his Physitians feare him mightily

Rich. Now by S[aint]. Iohn, that Newes is bad indeed. O he hath kept an euill Diet long, And ouer-much consum'd his Royall Person: 'Tis very greeuous to be thought vpon. Where is he, in his bed? Hast. He is

Rich. Go you before, and I will follow you.

Exit Hastings.

He cannot liue I hope, and must not dye, Till George be pack'd with post-horse vp to Heauen. Ile in to vrge his hatred more to Clarence, With Lyes well steel'd with weighty Arguments, And if I faile not in my deepe intent, Clarence hath not another day to liue: Which done, God take King Edward to his mercy, And leaue the world for me to bussle in. For then, Ile marry Warwickes yongest daughter. 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 loue, As for another secret close intent, By marrying her, which I must reach vnto. But yet I run before my horse to Market: Clarence still breathes, Edward still liues and raignes, When they are gone, then must I count my gaines.

Exit



Scena Secunda.

Enter the Coarse of Henrie the sixt with Halberds to guard it, Lady Anne being the Mourner.

Anne. Set downe, set downe your honourable load, If Honor may be shrowded in a Herse; Whil'st I a-while obsequiously lament Th' vntimely fall of Vertuous Lancaster. Poore key-cold Figure of a holy King, Pale Ashes of the House of Lancaster; Thou bloodlesse Remnant of that Royall Blood, Be it lawfull that I inuocate thy Ghost, To heare the Lamentations of poore Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtred Sonne, Stab'd by the selfesame hand that made these wounds. Loe, in these windowes that let forth thy life, I powre the helplesse Balme of my poore eyes. O 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 direfull hap betide that hated Wretch That makes vs wretched by the death of thee, Then I can wish to Wolues, to Spiders, Toades, Or any creeping venom'd thing that liues. If euer he haue Childe, Abortiue be it, Prodigeous, and vntimely brought to light, Whose vgly and vnnaturall Aspect May fright the hopefull Mother at the view, And that be Heyre to his vnhappinesse. If euer he haue Wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him, Then I am made by my young Lord, and thee. Come now towards Chertsey with your holy Lode, Taken from Paules, to be interred there. And still as you are weary of this waight, Rest you, whiles I lament King Henries Coarse. Enter Richard Duke of Gloster.

Rich. Stay you that beare the Coarse, & set it down

An. What blacke Magitian coniures vp this Fiend, To stop deuoted charitable deeds? Rich. Villaines set downe the Coarse, or by S[aint]. Paul, Ile make a Coarse of him that disobeyes

Gen. My Lord stand backe, and let the Coffin passe

Rich. Vnmanner'd Dogge, Stand'st thou when I commaund: Aduance thy Halbert higher then my brest, Or by S[aint]. Paul Ile strike thee to my Foote, And spurne vpon thee Begger for thy boldnesse

Anne. What do you tremble? are you all affraid? Alas, I blame you not, for you are Mortall, And Mortall eyes cannot endure the Diuell. Auant thou dreadfull minister of Hell; Thou had'st but power ouer his Mortall body, His Soule thou canst not haue: Therefore be gone

Rich. Sweet Saint, for Charity, be not so curst

An. Foule Diuell, For Gods sake hence, and trouble vs not, For thou hast made the happy earth thy Hell: Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deepe exclaimes: If thou delight to view thy heynous deeds, Behold this patterne of thy Butcheries. Oh Gentlemen, see, see dead Henries wounds, Open their congeal'd mouthes, and bleed afresh. Blush, blush, thou lumpe of fowle Deformitie: For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty Veines where no blood dwels. Thy Deeds inhumane and vnnaturall, Prouokes this Deluge most vnnaturall. O God! which this Blood mad'st, reuenge his death: O Earth! which this Blood drink'st, reuenge his death. Either Heau'n with Lightning strike the murth'rer dead: Or Earth gape open wide, and eate him quicke, As thou dost swallow vp this good Kings blood, Which his Hell-gouern'd arme hath butchered

Rich. Lady, you know no Rules of Charity, Which renders good for bad, Blessings for Curses

An. Villaine, thou know'st nor law of God nor Man, No Beast so fierce, but knowes some touch of pitty

Rich. But I know none, and therefore am no Beast

An. O wonderfull, when diuels tell the truth! Rich. More wonderfull, when Angels are so angry: Vouchsafe (diuine perfection of a Woman) Of these supposed Crimes, to giue me leaue By circumstance, but to acquit my selfe

An. Vouchsafe (defus'd infection of man) Of these knowne euils, but to giue me leaue By circumstance, to curse thy cursed Selfe

Rich. Fairer then tongue can name thee, let me haue Some patient leysure to excuse my selfe

An. Fouler then heart can thinke thee, Thou can'st make no excuse currant, But to hang thy selfe

Rich. By such dispaire, I should accuse my selfe

An. And by dispairing shalt thou stand excused, For doing worthy Vengeance on thy selfe, That did'st vnworthy slaughter vpon others

Rich. Say that I slew them not

An. Then say they were not slaine: But dead they are, and diuellish slaue by thee

Rich. I did not kill your Husband

An. Why then he is aliue

Rich. Nay, he is dead, and slaine by Edwards hands

An. In thy foule throat thou Ly'st, Queene Margaret saw Thy murd'rous Faulchion smoaking in his blood: The which, thou once didd'st bend against her brest, But that thy Brothers beate aside the point

Rich. I was prouoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt, vpon my guiltlesse Shoulders

An. Thou was't prouoked by thy bloody minde, That neuer dream'st on ought but Butcheries: Did'st thou not kill this King? Rich. I graunt ye

An. Do'st grant me Hedge-hogge, Then God graunt me too Thou may'st be damned for that wicked deede, O he was gentle, milde, and vertuous

Rich. The better for the King of heauen that hath him

An. He is in heauen, where thou shalt neuer come

Rich. Let him thanke me, that holpe to send him thither: For he was fitter for that place then earth

An. And thou vnfit for any place, but hell

Rich. Yes one place else, if you will heare me name it

An. Some dungeon

Rich. Your Bed-chamber

An. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou lyest

Rich. So will it Madam, till I lye with you

An. I hope so

Rich. I know so. But gentle Lady Anne, To leaue this keene encounter of our wittes, And fall something into a slower method. Is not the causer of the timelesse deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henrie and Edward, As blamefull as the Executioner

An. Thou was't the cause, and most accurst effect

Rich. Your beauty was the cause of that effect: Your beauty, that did haunt me in my sleepe, To vndertake the death of all the world, So I might liue one houre in your sweet bosome

An. If I thought that, I tell thee Homicide, These Nailes should rent that beauty from my Cheekes

Rich. These eyes could not endure y beauties wrack, You should not blemish it, if I stood by; As all the world is cheared by the Sunne, So I by that: It is my day, my life

An. Blacke night ore-shade thy day, & death thy life

Rich. Curse not thy selfe faire Creature, Thou art both

An. I would I were, to be reueng'd on thee

Rich. It is a quarrell most vnnaturall, To be reueng'd on him that loueth thee

An. It is a quarrell iust and reasonable, To be reueng'd on him that kill'd my Husband

Rich. He that bereft the Lady of thy Husband, Did it to helpe thee to a better Husband

An. His better doth not breath vpon the earth

Rich. He liues, that loues thee better then he could

An. Name him

Rich. Plantagenet

An. Why that was he

Rich. The selfesame name, but one of better Nature

An. Where is he? Rich. Heere:

Spits at him.

Why dost thou spit at me

An. Would it were mortall poyson, for thy sake

Rich. Neuer came poyson from so sweet a place

An. Neuer hung poyson on a fowler Toade. Out of my sight, thou dost infect mine eyes

Rich. Thine eyes (sweet Lady) haue infected mine

An. Would they were Basiliskes, to strike thee dead

Rich. I would they were, that I might dye at once: For now they kill me with a liuing death. Those eyes of thine, from mine haue drawne salt Teares; Sham'd their Aspects with store of childish drops: These eyes, which neuer shed remorsefull teare, No, when my Father Yorke, and Edward wept, To heare the pittious moane that Rutland made When black-fac'd Clifford shooke his sword at him. Nor when thy warlike Father like a Childe, Told the sad storie of my Fathers death, And twenty times, made pause to sob and weepe: That all the standers by had wet their cheekes Like Trees bedash'd with raine. In that sad time, My manly eyes did scorne an humble teare: And what these sorrowes could not thence exhale, Thy Beauty hath, and made them blinde with weeping. I neuer sued to Friend, nor Enemy: My Tongue could neuer learne sweet smoothing word. But now thy Beauty is propos'd my Fee, My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speake.

She lookes scornfully at him.

Teach not thy lip such Scorne; for it was made For kissing Lady, not for such contempt. If thy reuengefull heart cannot forgiue, Loe heere I lend thee this sharpe-pointed Sword, Which if thou please to hide in this true brest, And let the Soule forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly begge the death vpon my knee,

He layes his brest open, she offers at with his sword.

Nay do not pause: For I did kill King Henrie, But 'twas thy Beauty that prouoked me. Nay now dispatch: 'Twas I that stabb'd yong Edward, But 'twas thy Heauenly face that set me on.

She fals the Sword.

Take vp the Sword againe, or take vp me

An. Arise Dissembler, though I wish thy death, I will not be thy Executioner

Rich. Then bid me kill my selfe, and I will do it

An. I haue already

Rich. That was in thy rage: Speake it againe, and euen with the word, This hand, which for thy loue, did kill thy Loue, Shall for thy loue, kill a farre truer Loue, To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary

An. I would I knew thy heart

Rich. 'Tis figur'd in my tongue

An. I feare me, both are false

Rich. Then neuer Man was true

An. Well, well, put vp your Sword

Rich. Say then my Peace is made

An. That shalt thou know heereafter

Rich. But shall I liue in hope

An. All men I hope liue so. Vouchsafe to weare this Ring

Rich. Looke how my Ring incompasseth thy Finger, Euen so thy Brest incloseth my poore heart: Weare both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poore deuoted Seruant may But beg one fauour at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirme his happinesse for euer

An. What is it? Rich. That it may please you leaue these sad designes, To him that hath most cause to be a Mourner, And presently repayre to Crosbie House: Where (after I haue solemnly interr'd At Chertsey Monast'ry this Noble King, And wet his Graue with my Repentant Teares) I will with all expedient duty see you, For diuers vnknowne Reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this Boon

An. With all my heart, and much it ioyes me too, To see you are become so penitent. Tressel and Barkley, go along with me

Rich. Bid me farwell

An. 'Tis more then you deserue: But since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I haue saide farewell already.

Exit two with Anne.

Gent. Towards Chertsey, Noble Lord? Rich. No: to White Friars, there attend my comming

Exit Coarse

Was euer woman in this humour woo'd? Was euer woman in this humour wonne? Ile haue her, but I will not keepe her long. What? I that kill'd her Husband, and his Father, To take her in her hearts extreamest hate, With curses in her mouth, Teares in her eyes, The bleeding witnesse of my hatred by, Hauing God, her Conscience, and these bars against me, And I, no Friends to backe my suite withall, But the plaine Diuell, and dissembling lookes? And yet to winne her? All the world to nothing. Hah! Hath she forgot alreadie that braue Prince, Edward, her Lord, whom I (some three monthes since) Stab'd in my angry mood, at Tewkesbury? A sweeter, and a louelier Gentleman, Fram'd in the prodigallity of Nature: Yong, Valiant, Wise, and (no doubt) right Royal, The spacious World cannot againe affoord: And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropt the Golden prime of this sweet Prince, And made her Widdow to a wofull Bed? On me, whose All not equals Edwards Moytie? On me, that halts, and am mishapen thus? My Dukedome, to a Beggerly denier! I do mistake my person all this while: Vpon my life she findes (although I cannot) My selfe to be a maru'llous proper man. Ile be at Charges for a Looking-glasse, And entertaine a score or two of Taylors, To study fashions to adorne my body: Since I am crept in fauour with my selfe, I will maintaine it with some little cost. But first Ile turne yon Fellow in his Graue, And then returne lamenting to my Loue. Shine out faire Sunne, till I haue bought a glasse, That I may see my Shadow as I passe. Enter.

Scena Tertia.

Enter the Queene Mother, Lord Riuers, and Lord Gray.

Riu. Haue patience Madam, ther's no doubt his Maiesty Will soone recouer his accustom'd health

Gray. In that you brooke it ill, it makes him worse, Therefore for Gods sake entertaine good comfort, And cheere his Grace with quicke and merry eyes Qu. If he were dead, what would betide on me? If he were dead, what would betide on me? Gray. No other harme, but losse of such a Lord

Qu. The losse of such a Lord, includes all harmes

Gray. The Heauens haue blest you with a goodly Son, To be your Comforter, when he is gone

Qu. Ah! he is yong; and his minority Is put vnto the trust of Richard Glouster, A man that loues not me, nor none of you

Riu. Is it concluded he shall be Protector? Qu. It is determin'd, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the King miscarry. Enter Buckingham and Derby.

Gray. Here comes the Lord of Buckingham & Derby

Buc. Good time of day vnto your Royall Grace

Der. God make your Maiesty ioyful, as you haue bin Qu. The Countesse Richmond, good my L[ord]. of Derby. To your good prayer, will scarsely say, Amen. Yet Derby, not withstanding shee's your wife, And loues not me, be you good Lord assur'd, I hate not you for her proud arrogance