The Bowdler Shakespeare (Cambridge Library Collection - Literary Studies) (Volume 4)

Cambridge Library CoLLeCtion Books of enduring scholarly value

Literary studies This series provides a high-quality selection of early printings of literary works, textual editions, anthologies and literary criticism which are of lasting scholarly interest. Ranging from Old English to Shakespeare to early twentieth-century work from around the world, these books offer a valuable resource for scholars in reception history, textual editing, and literary studies.

The Bowdler Shakespeare ‘The Family Shakspeare: in which nothing is added to the original text, but those words and expressions are omitted which cannot with propriety be read in family.’ These words on the title pages of this edition gave rise to the verb ‘to bowdlerise’ to remove or modify text which was considered vulgar or objectionable. Thomas Bowdler (1754-1825) was a man of independent means who studied medicine but, instead of practising as a doctor, devoted his time to prison reform, chess and the sanitising of Shakespeare. The first edition of the Family Shakespeare was published in 1818, and Bowdler’s work became enormously popular as the scandal-ridden Regency gave way to Victorian respectability. This volume, from the 1853 edition, contains King Henry VI, Part 1, King Henry VI, Part 2, King Henry VI, Part 3, King Richard III, King Henry VIII and Timon of Athens.

Cambridge University Press has long been a pioneer in the reissuing of out-ofprint titles from its own backlist, producing digital reprints of books that are still sought after by scholars and students but could not be reprinted economically using traditional technology. The Cambridge Library Collection extends this activity to a wider range of books which are still of importance to researchers and professionals, either for the source material they contain, or as landmarks in the history of their academic discipline. Drawing from the world-renowned collections in the Cambridge University Library, and guided by the advice of experts in each subject area, Cambridge University Press is using state-of-the-art scanning machines in its own Printing House to capture the content of each book selected for inclusion. The files are processed to give a consistently clear, crisp image, and the books finished to the high quality standard for which the Press is recognised around the world. The latest print-on-demand technology ensures that the books will remain available indefinitely, and that orders for single or multiple copies can quickly be supplied. The Cambridge Library Collection will bring back to life books of enduring scholarly value across a wide range of disciplines in the humanities and social sciences and in science and technology.

The Bowdler Shakespeare Volume 4 William Shakespeare E dited by Thomas B owdler

C A m B R I D g E U n I V E R SI T y P R E S S Cambridge new york melbourne madrid Cape Town Singapore São Paolo Delhi Published in the United States of America by Cambridge University Press, new york www.cambridge.org Information on this title: www.cambridge.org/9781108001113 © in this compilation Cambridge University Press 2009 This edition first published 1853 This digitally printed version 2009 ISBn 978-1-108-00111-3 This book reproduces the text of the original edition. The content and language reflect the beliefs, practices and terminology of their time, and have not been updated.

THE

FAMILY SHAKSPEARE: IN "WHICH NOTHING IS ADDED TO THE ORIGINAL TEXT, BUT THOSE WORDS AND EXPRESSIONS ARE OMITTED WHICH CANNOT WITH PROPRIETY BE READ IN A FAMILY.

BY

THOMAS BOWDLEE, ESQ., F.R.S. & S.A.

IN SIX VOLUMES. VOL.

IV.

EXEMIT LABEM, PIJBUMQUB REUQOTT JCXHXBBUM SEKSUM, ATQUE AUBAI 6IMPLICIS IGJTEM.

LONDON: LONGMAN, BROWN, GREEN, AND LONGMANS. 1853.

CONTENTS. Page KING HENRY THE SIXTH.

{Part L)

1

KING HENRY THE SIXTH.

{Part II.)

85

KING HENRY THE SIXTH.

{Part III)

KING EICHARD THE THIRD

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KING HENRY THE EIGHTH TIMON OF ATHENS

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1S5 281 399

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497

FIRST PAET OF

KING HENRY VI.

VOL. IV.

B

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KING HENRY THE SIXTH. DUKE OF GLOSTER, Uncle to the King, and Protector.

DUKE OF BEDFORD, Uncle to the King, and Regent of France. THOMAS BEAUFORT, Duke of Exeter, great Uncle to the King. HENRY BEAUFORT, great Uncle to the King, Bishop ofWinchestcr,

and afterwards Cardinal. JOHN BEAUFORT, Earl of Somerset, afterwards Duke. RICHARD PLANTAGENET, eldest Son of Richard, late

Earl of

Cambridge; afterwards Duke of York. E A R L OF WARWICK. E A R L OF SALISBURY. E A R L OF SUFFOLK. LORD TALBOT, afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury. J O H N TALBOT, his Son. EDWARD MORTIMER, Earl of March. MORTIMER'S KEEPER, A N D A LAWYER. SIR JOHN FASTOLFE. SIR WILLIAM LUCY. SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE. SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE. MAYOR OF LONDON. WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower. VERNON, of the White Rose, or York Faction. BASSET, of the Red Rose, or Lancaster Faction.

CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France. BEIGNIER, Duke ofAnjou, and titular King of Naples. DUKE OF BURGUNDY. DUKE OF ALEN<;ON. GOVERNOR OF PARIS. BASTARD OF ORLEANS. MASTER-GUNNER OF ORLEANS, AND HIS SON. GENERAL OF THE FRENCH FORCES IN BOURDEAUX. A FRENCH SERGEANT. A PORTER.

Daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry.

MARGARET,

COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE.

JOAN L A PUCELLE, commonly called Joan of Arc.

Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers, Messengers, and several Attendants both on the English and French. SCENE—Partly in England, and partly in France,

FIEST PAET OF

KING HENRY VL

ACT I. SCENE I.—WESTMINSTER ABBEY,

Dead march. Corpse of KING HENRY THE FIFTH discovered, lying in state; attended on by the DUKES OF BEDFORD, GLOSTER, and EXETER; the EARL OF WARWICK, the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, HERALDS, dec.

Bedford. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night! Comets, importing change of times and states, Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky; And with them scourge the bad revolting stars, That have consented unto Henry's death! Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long! England ne'er lost a king of so much worth. Gloster. England ne'er had a king until this time. Virtue he had, deserving to command: His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams; His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings; His sparkling eyes replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies, Than mid-day sun, fierce bent against their faces. What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech, He ne'er lift up his hand, but conquered.

4

FIRST PART OF

Exeter. We mourn in black; Why mourn we not in blood? Henry is dead, and never shall revive: Upon a wooden coffin we attend; And death's dishonourable victory We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What, shall we curse the planets of mishap, That plotted thus our glory's overthrow? Or shall we think the subtle-witted French Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him, By magick verses1 have contrived his end? Winchester. He was a king bless'd of the King of kings. The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought: The church's prayers made him so prosperous. Gloster. None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe. WincJiester. Gloster, whate'er we like, thou art protector ; And lookest to command the prince, and realm. Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, More than religion or than churchmen may. Gloster. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh, And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st, Except it be to pray against thy foes. Bedford. Cease, cease these jars, and rest your minds in peace! Let's to the altar:—Heralds, wait on us:— Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms; Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead,— Posterity, await for wretched years, When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck; Our isle be made a nourish 2 of salt tears, And none but women left to wail the dead.— Henry the Fifth! thy ghost I invocate; Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils! Combat with adverse planets in the heavens! 1

There was a notion long prevalent, that life might be taken away by metrical charms. 2 Nurse was anciently so spelt.

KING HENRY VI.

5

A far more glorious star thy soul will make, Than Julius Caesar, or bright Enter a

MESSENGER.

Messenger. My honourable lords, health to you all! Sad tidings bring I to you out of France, Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture: Guienne, Champaigne, Rheims, Orleans, Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost. Bedford. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse? Speak softly; or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead, and rise from death. Gloster. Is Paris lost? is Roiien yielded up? If Henry were recall'd to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost. Exeter. How were they lost? what treachery was us'd? Messenger. No treachery; but want of men and money. Among the soldiers this is muttered,— That here you maintain several factions; And, whilst a field should be despatch'd and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have ling'ring wars with little cost; Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings; A third man thinks, without expense at all, By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot: Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms; Of England's coat one half is cut away. Eooeter. Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth her flowing tides. Bedford. Me they concern; regent I am of France:— Give me my steeled coat, I'll fight for France.— Away with these disgraceful wailing robes! Wounds I will lend the French, instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries.3 3

i. e. Their miseries which have had only a short intermission.

6

FIRST PART OF

Enter another MESSENGER. 2 Messenger. Lords, view these letters, full of bad mischance, France is revolted from the English quite; Except some petty towns of no import: The dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims; The bastard of Orleans with him is join'd; Reignier, duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The duke of Alen£on flieth to his side. Exeter. The dauphin crowned king! all fly to him! O, whither shall we fly from this reproach? Gloster. We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats:— Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out. Bedford. Gloster, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness? An army have I muster'd in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is over-run. Enter a third MESSENGER. 3 Messenger. My gracious lords,—to add to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew king Henry's hearse,— I must inform you of a dismal fight, Betwixt the stout lord Talbot and the French. Winchester. What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so? 3 Messenger. 0, no; wherein lord Talbot was o'erthrown; The circumstance I'll tell you more at large. The tenth of August last, this dreadful lord, Retiring from the siege of Orleans, Having full scarce six thousand in his troop, By three and twenty thousand of the French Was round encompassed and set upon; No leisure had he to enrank his men; He wanted pikes to set before his archers; Instead whereof, sharp stakes, pluck'd out of hedges. They pitched in the ground confusedly, To keep the horsemen off from breaking in. More than three hours the fight continued;

KING HENRY VI.

7

Where valiant Talbot, above human thought, Enacted wonders with his sword and lance. Hundreds he sent to death, and none durst stand him; Here, there, and every where, enrag'd he slew: The French exclaim'd, the devil was in arms; All the whole army stood agaz'd on him: His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit, A Talbot! a Talbot! cried out amain, And rush'd into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been sealed up, If sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward. He being in the vaward (plac'd behind With purpose to relieve and follow them,) Cowardly lied, not having struck one stroke, Hence grew the general wreck and massacre ; Enclosed were they with their enemies: A base Walloon, to win the dauphin's grace, Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back; Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength, Durst not presume to look once in the face. Bedford. Is Talbot slain; then I will slay myself, For living idly here, in pomp and ease, Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid, Unto his dastard foe-men is betray'd. 3 Messenger. O no, he lives; but is took prisoner, And lord Scales with him, and lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughtered, or took likewise. Bedford. His ransome there is none but I shall pay: I'll hale the dauphin headlong from his throne, His crown shall be the ransome of my friend; Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours.— Farewell, my masters; to my task will I ; Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make, To keep our great saint George's feast withal: Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take, Whose bloody deeds shall make all Europe quake, 3 Messenger. So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd ; The English army is grown weak and faint: The earl of Salisbury craveth supply,

8

FIRST PART OF

And hardly keeps his men from mutiny, Since they, so few, watch such a multitude. Exeter. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn; Either to quell the dauphin utterly, Or bring him in obedience to your yoke, Bedford. I do remember i t ; and here take leave, To go about my preparation. [Exit Gloster. I'll to the Tower, with all the haste I can, To view the artillery and munition; And then I will proclaim young Henry king. [Exit. Exeter. To Eltham will I, where the young king is, Being ordain'd his special governor; And for his safety there I'll best devise. [Eodt Winchester. Each hath his place and function to attend: I am left out; for me nothing remains. But long I will not be Jack-out-of-office; The king from Eltham I intend to send, And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. [Exit. SCENE II.—FRANCE.

Enter

Before

ORLEANS.

with his Forces; ALEN^ON, REIGNIER, and Otliers. Charles. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens, So in the earth, to this day is not known: Late did he shine upon the English side; Now we are victors, upon us he smiles. What towns of any moment, but we have ? At pleasure here we lie, near Orleans; Thewhiles, the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. Alengon. They want their porridge, and their fat bullbeeves : Either they must be dieted like mules, And have their provender tyed to their mouths, Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice. lieignier. Let's raise the siege: Why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear: Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury; CHARLES,

KING HENRY VI.

9

And he may well in fretting spend his gall, Nor men, nor money, hath he to make war. Charles. Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on them, Now for the honour of the forlorn French: Him I forgive my death, that killeth me, When he see3 me go back one foot, or fly. [Exeunt. Alarums; Excursions; afterwards a Retreat Re-enter CHARLES, ALENQON, REIGNIER, and Otliers. Charles. Who ever saw the like? what men have I ?— Dogs! cowards! dastards!—I would ne'er have fled, But that they left me 'midst my enemies. Reignier. Salisbury is a desperate homicide; He fighteth as one weary of his life. The other lords, like lions wanting food, Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.4 Alengon. Froissard, a countryman of ours, records, England all Olivers and Rowlands bred, * During the time Edward the third did reign. More truly now may this be verified ; For none but Samsons, and Goliasses, I t sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten! Lean raw-bon'd rascals! who would e'er suppose They had such courage and audacity? Cliarles. Let's leave this town; for they are harebrain'd ? slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they'll tear down, than forsake the siege. Reignier. I think by some odd gimmals5 or device, Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on; Else ne'er could they hold out so, as they do. By my consent, we'll e'en let them alone, Alengon. Be it so. 4

i. e. The prey for which they are hungry. A gimmal is a piece of jointed work, where one piece moves within another; here it is taken at large for an engine. 5

10

FIRST PART OP

Enter the BASTARD

(/ORLEANS.

Bastard. Where's the prince dauphin? I have news for him. Charles. Bastard 6 of Orleans, thrice welcome to us. Bastcvrd. Methinks, your looks are sad, your cheer7 appalTd; Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand: A holy maid hither with me I bring, Which, by a vision sent from heaven, Ordained is to raise this tedious siege, And drive the English forth the bounds of France. The spirit of deep prophecy she hath, Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome; What's past, and what's to come, she can descry. Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words, For they are certain and unfallible. Charles. Go, call her in: [Exit BASTARD.] But, first, to try her skill, Reignier, stand thou as dauphin in my place: Question her proudly, let thy looks be stern:— By this means shall we sound what skill she hath. [Retires.

Enter L A PUCELLE, BASTARD of ORLEANS, and Others. Reignier. Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wond'rous feats? Pucelle. Eeignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?— Where is the dauphin?—come, come from behind; I know thee well, though never seen before. Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me: In private will I talk with thee apart:— Stand back, you lords, and give us leave a while. Reignier. She takes upon her bravely at first dashPucelle. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter, My wit untrained in any kind of art. 6

This was not in former times a term of reproach.

7

Countenance.

KING HENRY VL

11

Heaven, and our lady gracious, hath it pleas'd To shine on my contemptible estate: Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs, And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks, Our lady deigned to appear to me; And, in a vision full of majesty, Will'd me to leave my base vocation, And free my country from calamity: Her aid she promised and assur'd success: In complete glory she reveaTd herself; And, whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infus'd on me, That beauty am I bless'd with, which you see. Ask me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer unpremeditated: My courage try by combat, if thou dar'st, And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex. Resolve on this :8 Thou shalt be fortunate, If thou receive me for thy warlike mate. Charles. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terras; Only this proof 111 of thy valour make,— In single combat thou shalt buckle with me: And, if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; Otherwise, I renounce all confidence. Pucelle. I am prepared: here is my keen-edgf d sword, Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side; The which at Touraine, in saint Katharine's churchyard, Out of a deal of old iron I chose forth. Charles. Then come on, damsel, I fear no woman. Pucelle. And, while I live, 111 .ne'er fly from a man. [They Fight Charles. Stay, stay thy hands; thou art an Amazon, And fightest with the sword of Deborah. Pucelle. Christ's mother helps me, else I were too weak. Charles. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me: My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd. Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so, 8

Be firmly persuaded of i t

12

FIRST PART OF

Let me thy servant, and not sovereign, be ; 'Tis the French dauphin sueth to thee thus, Pucelle. I must not yield to any thoughts of love, For my profession's sacred from above: When I have chased all thy foes from hence, Then will I think upon a recompence. Charles. Meantime, look gracious on thy prostrate thrall. Reignier. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. Alengon. He may mean more than we poor men do know. Reignier. My lord, where are you ] what devise you on? Shall we give over Orleans, or no? Pucelle. Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants! Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard. Charles. What she says, I'll confirm; we'll fight it out. Pucelle. Assigned am I to be the English scourge. This night the siege assuredly I'll raise: Expect saint Martin's summer9 halcyon days, Since I have entered into these wars, Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself, Till, by broad spreading, it disperse to nought. With Henry's death, the English circle ends; Dispersed are the glories it included. Now am I like that proud insulting ship, Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once. Charles. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove? Thou with an eagle art inspired then. Helen, the mother of great Constantine, Nor yet saint Philip's daughters,1 were like thee. Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth, How may I reverently worship thee ? Alm$on. Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege. Reignier. Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours; Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd. 9 1

Expect prosperity after misfortune. Meaning the four daughters of Philip, mentioned in Acts xxi. 9.

KING HENRY VI.

13

Charles. Presently we'll try:—Come, let's away about ifc: No prophet will I trust if she prove false. [Exeunt. SCENE III.—LONDON.

Hill before the TOWER.

Enter, at tlie Gates, tJie

DUKE OF GLOSTER, SERVING-MEN, in blue Coats.

with his

Gloster. I am come to survey the Tower this day; Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance.2 Where be these warders, that they wait not here? Open the gates; Gloster it is that calls. [SERVANTS knock. 1 Warder. [Within.] Who is there that knocks so imperiously? 1 Servant. It is the noble Duke of Gloster. 2 Warder. [Within.'] Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in. Servant. Answer you so the lord protector, villains? 1 Warder. [Within.] The Lord protect him! so we answer him: We do no otherwise than we are will'd. Gloster. Who willed you? or whose will stands, but mine? There's none protector of the realm but I.— Break up the gates, 111 be your warrantize: Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms? SERVANTS

rush at the TOWER Gates. Enter, to the Gates, WOODVILLE, the LIEUTENANT.

Woodville. [ Within.] What noise is this? what traitors have we here ? Gloster. Lieutenant, is it you, whose voice I hear? Open the gates; here's Gloster, that would enter. Woodville. [Within.] Have patience, noble duke; I may not open; The cardinal of Winchester forbids: From him I have express commandment, That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in. Gloster. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him 'fore me? 2

Theft.

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FIRST PART OF

Arrogant Winchester? that haughty prelate, Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook? Thou art no friend to Heaven, or to the king: Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly. 1 Servant. Open the gates unto the lord protector; Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly. Enter

attended by a Train o/*SERVANTS^ tawny Coats. Winchester. How now, ambitious Humphrey? what means this? Gloster. Piel'd priest,3 dost thou command me to be shut out? Winchester. 1 do, thou most usurping proditor,4 And not protector of the king or realm. Gloster. Stand back: thou manifest conspirator; Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord: I'll canvass5 thee in thy broad cardinal's hat, If thou proceed in this thy insolence. Winchester. Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot. Gloster. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back: Thy scarlet robes, as a child's bearing-cloth I'll use, to carry thee out of this place. Winchester. Do what thou dar'st; I beard thee to thy face. Gloster. What ? am I dar'd, and bearded to my face ?— Draw, men, for all this privileged place; Blue-coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard; [GLOSTER and his men attack tlie BISHOP. I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly: Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat: In spite of pope or dignities of church. Winchester. Gloster, thou'lt answer this before the pope. Gloster. Now beat them hence, Why do you let them stay ?— Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.— Out, tawny coats!—out, scarlet6 hypocrite! 6

WINCHESTER,

Alluding to his shaven crown. An allusion to the bishop's habit.

« Traitor.

KING HENEY VI.

] 5

Here a great Tumult. In the midst of it, enter the MAYOR OF LONDON, and

OFFICEBS.

Mayor. Fye, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates, Thus contumeliously should break the peace! Gloster. Peace, mayor; thouknow'st little of my wrongs: Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king, Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use. .Winchester. Here's Gloster too, a foe to citizens; One that still motions war, and never peace, Overcharging your free purses with large fines; That seeks to overthrow religion, Because he is protector of the realm; And would have armour here out of the Tower, To crown himself king, and suppress the prince. Gloster. I will not answer thee with words, but blows. [Here they skirmish again. Mayor. Nought rests for me, in this tumultuous strife, But to make open proclamation:— Come, officer; as loud as e'er thou canst. Officer. All manner of men, assembled here in arms this day, against God's peace a/ad the king's, we chcurge and command you, in his highness name, to repair to your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, hcmdle, or use, any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain of death. Gloster. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law: But we shall meet, and break our minds at large. Winchester. Gloster, we'll meet; to thy dear cost, be sure: Thy heart-blood I will have, for this day's work. Mayor. I'll call for clubs/ if you will not away:— This cardinal is more haughty than the devil. Gloster. Mayor, farewell; thou dost but what thou rnayst. 7

That is, for peace-officers, armed with clubs or staves.

16

FIRST PART OP

Winchester. Abominable Gloster! guard thy head; For I intend to have it ere long. # [Exeunt. Mayor. See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart. [Exewd. SCENE IV.—FRANCE.

Before

ORLEANS,

Enter on tlie Walls, the MASTER-GUNNER and his SON. Master-Gunner. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd; And how the English have the suburbs won. Son. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them, Howe'er, unfortunate, I miss'd my aim. Master-Gunner. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd by me: Chief master-gunner am I of this town ; Something I must do, to procure me grace: The prince's espials8 have informed me, How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd, Wont, through a secret gate of iron bars In yonder tower, to overpeer the city; And thence discover, how, with most advantage, They may vex us, with shot, or with assault. To intercept this inconvenience, A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd ; And fully even these three days have I watch'd, If I could see them. Now, boy, do thou watch, For I can stay no longer. If thou spy'st any, rim and bring me word; And thou shalt find me at the governor's. [Exit Son. Father, I warrant you; take you no care; I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. Enter, in an upper Chamber of a Tower, tJie LORDS SALISBURY and TALBOT, SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE, SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE, and Others.

Salisbury. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd! How wert thou handled, being prisoner? 8

Spies.

KING HENRY VI.

17

Or by what means got'st thou to be released? Discourse, I pr'ythee, on this turret's top. Talbot. The duke of Bedford had a prisoner, Called—the brave lord Ponton de Santrailles; For him I was exchanged and ransom'd. But with a baser man of arms by far, Once, in contempt, they would have bartered me: Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and crav'd death Rather than I would be so pil'd esteem'd.9 In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd. But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart! "Whom with my bare fists I would execute, If I now had him brought into my power. Salisbury. Yet telFst thou not, how thou wert entertain'd. Talbot. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious taunts. In open market-place produc'd they me, To be a public spectacle to all; Here, said they, is the terror of the French, The scare-crow that affrights our children so. Then broke I from the officers.that led me; And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground, To hurl at the beholders of my shame. My grisly countenance made others fly; None durst come near for fear of sudden death. In iron walls they deem'd me not secure; So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread, That they supposed I could rend bars of steel, And spurn in pieces posts of adamant: Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had, That walk'd about me every minute-while; And if I did but stir out of my bed, Heady they were to shoot me to the heart. Salisbury. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd; But we will be reveng'd sufficiently. Now is it supper-time in Orleans: Here through this grate, I can count every one, 9

VOL. IV.

So stripped of honours. C

18

FIRST PART OP

And view the Frenchmen how they fortify; Let us look in, the sight will much delight thee,— Sir Thomas Gargrave, and sir William Glansdale, Let me have your express opinions, Where is best place to make our battery next Gar grave. I think at the north gate; for there stand lords. Glansdale. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.* Talbot. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd, Or with light skirmishes enfeebled. [Shot from tlie Town. SALISBURY and SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE fall Salisbury. 0 Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners! Gargrave. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man! Talbot. What chance is this, that suddenly hath cross'd us? Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak; How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men? One of thy eyes, and thy cheek's side struck off!— Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand, That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy! In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame: Henry the fifth he first trained to the wars, Whilst any trump did sound, or drum struck up, His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field. Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury ? though thy speech doth fail, One eye thou hast, to look to heaven for grace: The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.— Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive, If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!— Bear hence his body, I will help to bury it.— Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him. Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort; Thou shalt not die, whiles He beckons with his hand, and smiles on me; As who should say, Wlien I am dead and gone, Remember to avenge me on the French.— Plantagenet, I will; and Nero-like,

KING HENRY VI.

19

Play on the lute, beholding the towns bum: Wretched shall France be only in my name. [Tkwnder hecurd; afterwards an A larum. What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens? Whence cometh this alarum, and the noise? Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head: The dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,— A holy prophetess, new risen up,— Is come with a great power to raise the siege. [SALISBURY groans. Talbot. Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan! I t irks his heart, he cannot be reveng'd. Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you:— Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels. And make a quagmire of your mingled brains. Convey me Salisbury into his tent, And then we'll try what dastard Frenchmen dare. [Eoceunt, bearing out the Bodies. SCENE

V.—Before one of the Gates of

ORLEANS.

Alarum. Skirmishings. TALBOT pursueth the DAUPHIN, cmd driveth him in: then enter JOAN L A PUCELLE, driving ENGLISHMEN before her. Then enter TALBOT. Talbot Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; A woman, clad in armour, chaseth them. Enter L A PUCELLE. Here, here she comes: I'll have a bout with thee; Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch, And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st. Pucdk. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace

thee.

[They fight.

20

FIRST PART OP

Talhot. My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage, And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder, But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet. Pucelle. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come: I must go victual Orleans forthwith. O'ertake me, if thou canst; I scorn thy strength. Go, go, cheer up thy hunger-starved men; Help Salisbury, to make his testament: This day is ours, as many more shall be. [PUCELLE enters tJie Toum, with SOLDIERS. Talbot. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel; I know not where I am, nor what I do; A witch, by fear, not force, like Hannibal, Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists: So bees with smoke, and doves with noisome stench, Are from their hives, and houses, driven away. They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs; Now, like to whelps, we crying run away. [A Short Alarum. Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight, Or tear the lions out of England's coat; Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead: Sheep run not half so timorous from the wol£ Or horse, or oxen, from the leopard, As you fly from your oft-subdued slaves. [Alarum. Another Skirmish. It will not be:—Retire into your trenches: You all consented unto Salisbury's death, For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.— Pucelle is enter'd into Orleans, In spite of us, or aught that we could do. O, would I were to die with Salisbury! The shame hereof will make me hide my head. [Alarum. Retreat Exeunt TALBOT and his Forces, dec.

KING HENRY VI.

SCENE

21

VI.—The same.

Enter on tlie Watts, PUCELLE,

CHARLES, KEIGNIER, ALENCON, and SOLDIERS.

Pucelle. Advance our waving colours on the walls; Rescu'd is Orleans from the English wolves:— Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word. Charles. Divinest creature, bright Astrsea's daughter, How shall I honour thee for this success] Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, That one day blooni'd, and fruitful were the next. France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!— Recover'd is the town of Orleans: More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state. Eeignier. Why ring not out the bells throughout the town? Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires, And feast and banquet in the open streets, To celebrate the joy that heaven hath given us. Alengon. All France will be replete with mirth and joy, When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. Charles. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is WOD ; For which, I will divide my crown with her: And all the priests and friars in my realm Shall, in procession, sing her endless praise. A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear, Than Pvhodope's, or Memphis', ever was: In memory of her, when she is dead, Her ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich jewell'd coffer of Darius, Transported shall be at high festivals Before the kings and queens of France. No longer on saint Denis will we cry, But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint. Come in; and let us banquet royally, , After this golden day of victory. [Flourish. Exeunt.

22

FIKST PART OP

ACT II. SCENE

L—Tlie same.

Enter to the Gates, a

FRENCH SERGEANT, SENTINELS.

and two

Sergecmt. Sirs, take your places, and be vigilant: If any noise, or soldier, you perceive, &ear to the walls, by some apparent sign, Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.1 1 Sentinel Sergeant, you shall [Eodt SERGEANT. Thus are poor servitors (When others sleep upon their quiet beds) Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold. Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and Forces, with scaling Ladders; their Drums beating a dead March. Talbot. Lord regent,—and redoubted Burgundy,— By whose approach, the regions of Artois, Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us.— This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, Having all day carous'd and banqueted: Embrace we then this opportunity; As fitting best to quittance their deceit, Contrived by art and baleful sorcery. Bedford. Coward of France!—how much he wrongs his fame, Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, To join with witches, and the help of hell. Burgundy. Traitors have never other company.— But what's that Pucelle, whom they term so pure? Talbot. A maid, they say. Bedford. A maid! and be so martial! Burgundy. Pray heaven, she prove not masculine ere long; If underneath the standard of the French, She carry armour, as she hath begun. 1

The same as guard-room.

KING HENRY VI.

23

Talbot. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits: God is our fortress; in whose conquering name, Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. Bedford. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. Talbot. Not altogether; better far, I guess, That we do make our entrance several ways; That, if it chance the one of us do fail, The other yet may rise against their force. Bedford. Agreed; I'll to yon corner. Burgundy. And I to this. Talbot And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave.— Now, Salisbury! for thee, and for the right Of English Henry, shall this night appear How much in duty I am bound to both. The

ENGLISH scale the watts, crying ST. GEORGE ! TALBOT ! and all enter by the Town.

a

Sentinel. [ Within.] Arm, arm! the enemy doth make assault! Tlie FRENCH leap over the Watts in their Shirts. Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENCJON, REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready. AUngon. How now, my lords? what, all unready so? Bastard. Unready? ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well. Reignier. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, Hearing alarums at our chamber doors, Ahngon. Of all exploits, since first I followed arms, Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprize More venturous, or desperate than this. Bastard. I think, this Talbot be a fiend of hell. Reignier. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him. Ahngon. Here cometh Charles; I marvel how he sped. Enter CHARLES and L A PUCELLE. Bastwrd. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive-guard,

24

FIRST PART OP

Charles. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame? Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal, Make us partakers of a little gain, That now our loss might be ten times so much? Pucelle. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend ? At all times will you have my power alike? Sleeping, or waking, must I still prevail, Or will you blamo and lay the fault on me?— Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good, This sudden mischief never could have fall'n. Charles. Duke of Alencjon, this was your default; That, being captain of the watch to-night, Did look no better to that weighty charge. Alengon. Had all your quarters been as safely kept, As that whereof I had the government, We had not been thus shamefully surpriz'd. Bastard. Mine was secure. Eeignier. And so was mine, my lord. Charles. And, for myself, most pars of all this night, Within her quarter, and mine own precinct, I was employ'd in passing to and fro, About relieving of the sentinels: Then how, or which way, should they first break in? Pucelle. Question, my lords, no further of the case, How, or which way; 'tis sure, they found some place But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. And now there rests no other shift but this,— To gather our soldiers, scattered and dispers'd, And lay new platforms2 to endamage them. Alarum. Enter an ENGLISH SOLDIER, crying A. TALBOT! A TALBOT! They fly, leaving their Clothes behind. Soldier. I'll be so bold to take what they have left. The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name. [Exit. 2

Plans, schemes.

KING HENRY TL

SCENE II.—ORLEANS,

Enter

25

Within tJie Town.

TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY,

a

CAPTAIN,

and

Others.

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

Talbot Bring forth the body of old Salisbury; And here advance it in the market-place, The middle centre of this cursed town.— Now I have paid my vow unto his soul; For every drop of blood was drawn from him, There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night. And, that hereafter ages may behold "What ruin happen'd in revenge of him, Within their chiefest temple I'll erect A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interred: Upon the which, that every one may read, Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans; The treacherous manner of his mournful death, And what a terror he had been to France. But, lords, in all our bloody massacre, I muse3 we met not with the dauphin's grace; His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc; Nor any of his false confederates. Bedford. ?Tis thought, lord Talbot, when the fight began, "Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, They did, amongst the troops of armed men, Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field. Burgundy. Myself (as far as I could well discern, For smoke, and dusky vapours of the night,) Am sure I scar'd the dauphin and his trull; When arm in arm they both came swiftly running, Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves, That could not live asunder day or night. 3

Wondet.

26

FIRST PART OF

After that things are set in order here, We'll follow them with all the power we have. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. All hail, my lords! which of this princely train Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts So much applauded through the realm of France? Talbot. Here is the Talbot; who would speak with him? Messenger. The virtuous lady, countess of Auvergne, With modesty admiring thy renown, By me entreats, good lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe To visit her poor castle where she lies; 4 That she may boast she hath beheld the man Whose glory fills the world with loud report. Burgundy. Is it even so ? Nay, then, I see, our wars Will turn into a peaceful comick sport, When ladies crave to be encounter'd with.— You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. Talbot. Ne'er trust me then; for, when a world of men Could not prevail with all their oratory, Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd:— And therefore tell her, I return great thanks; And in submission will attend on her.— Will not your honours bear me company? Bedford. No, truly, it is more than manners will: And I have heard it said,—Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone. Talbot. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy, I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. Come hither, captain. [Whisjyers.]—You perceive my mind. Captain. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. [Exeunt. 4

Dwells.

KING HENRY VI.

SCENE III.—AUVERGXE.

27

Court of the Castle.

Enter the COUNTESS and her PORTE::. Countess. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; And, when you have done so, bring the keys to me. Porter. Madam, I will. [Exit. Countess. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit, As Scjrfchian Thomyris by Cyrus' death. Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, And his achievements of no less account: Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, To give their censure5 of these rare reports. Enter

MESSENGER

and

TALBOT.

Messenger. Madam, According as your ladyship desir'd, By message crav'd, so is lord Talbot come. Countess. And he is welcome. What! is this the man? Messenger. Madam, it is. Countess. Is this the scourge of France? Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad, That with his name the mothers still their babes? I see report is fabulous and false: I thought, I should have seen some Hercules, A second Hector, for his grim aspect, And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf: It cannot be, this weak and writhled6 shrimp Should strike such terror to his enemies. Talbot. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you : But, since your ladyship is not at leisure, I'll sort some other time to visit you. Countess. What means he now?—Go, ask him whither he goes. 5

Opinion.

G

Wrinkled.

28

FIRST PART OP

Messenger. Stay, my lord Talbot; for my lady craves To know the cause of your abrupt departure. Talbot. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief, I go to certify her, Talbot's here. Rerenter PORTER, vrith Keys. Countess. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. Talbot. Prisoner! to whom? Countess. To me, blood-thirsty lord; And for that cause I train'd thee to my house. Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me, For in my gallery thy picture hangs: But now the substance shall endure the like; And I will chain these legs and arms of thine, That hast by tyranny, these many years, Wasted our country, slain our citizens, And sent our sons and husbands captivate. Talbot. Ha, ha, ha! Countess. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall turn to moan. Talbot. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond,7 To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow, "Whereon to practise your severity. Countess. Why, art not thou the man? Talbot. I am indeed. Countess. Then have I substance too. Talbot. No, no, I am but shadow of myself: You are deceived, my substance is not here; For what you see, is but the smallest part And least proportion of humanity: I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, I t is of such a spacious lofty pitch, Your roof were not sufficient to contain it. Countess. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce;8 He will be here, and yet he is not here: How can these contrarieties agree? Talbot. That will I show you presently. 7

Foolish.

« For a purpose.

KING HENRY VI.

29

He winds a Horn. Drums heard; then a Peal of Ordnance. The Gates being forced, enter Soldiers. How say you, madam? are you now persuaded, That Talbot is but shadow of himself? These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength, With which he yoketh your rebellious necks; Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, And in a moment makes them desolate. Countess. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse: I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited,9 And more than may be gathered by thy shape. Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath; For I am sorry, that with reverence I did not entertain thee as thou art. Talbot. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue The mind of Talbot, as you did mistake The outward composition of his body. What you hath done, hath not offended me: No other satisfaction do I crave, But only (with your patience) that we may Taste of your wine, and see what cates you have; For soldiers' stomachs always serve them welL Countess. With all my heart: and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. [Exeunt

SCENE IV.—LONDON.

The TEMPLE Garden.

Enter the EARLS of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK ; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another LAWYER.

Plantagenet. Great lords, and gentlemen, what means this silence? Dare no man answer in a case of truth? Suffolk. Within the Temple hall we were too loud The garden here is more convenient. 9

Noised, reported.

30

FIEST PART OP

Plantagenet. Then say at once, If I maintained the truth, Or, else, was wrangling Somerset in the error? Suffolk 'Faith, I have been a truant in the law; And never yet could frame my will to it; And, therefore, frame the law unto my will. Somerset. Judge you, my lord of Warwick, then between us. Warwick. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch, Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth, Between two blades, which bears the better temper, Between two horses, which doth bear him best, Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye, I have, perhaps, some shallow spirit of judgment: But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. Plantagenet. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance: The truth appears so naked on my side, That any purblind eye may find it out, Somerset. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, So clear, so shining, and so evident, That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. Plantagenet. Since you are tongue-ty'd and so loath to speak, In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts: Let him, that is a true-born gentleman, And stands upon the honour of his birth, If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, From off this briar pluck a white rose with me. Somerset. Let him that is no coward, nor no flatterer, But dare maintain the party of the truth, Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. Warwick. I love no colours;x and, without all colour Of base insinuating flattery, I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. Suffolk. I pluck this red rose, with young Somerset; And say withal, I think he held the right. Vernon. Stay, lords and gentlemen: and pluck no more, 1

Deceits; a play on the word.

KING HENRY VI.

31

Till you conclude—that he, upon whose side The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree, Shalt yield the other in the right opinion. Somerset. Good master Yernon, it is well objected;2 If I have fewest I subscribe in silence, Plantagenet. And I. Vernon. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white rose side. Somerset. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off; Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red, And fall on my side so against your will. Vernon. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, Aiid keep me on the side where still I am. Somerset. Well, well, come on: Who else? Lawyer. Unless my study and my books be false, The argument you held, was wrong in you; [To SOMERSET

In sign whereof, I pluck a white rose too. Plantagenet. Now, Somerset, where is your argument? Somerset. Here, in my scabbard, meditating that, Shall die your white rose in a bloody red. Plantagenet. Mean time, your cheeks do counterfeit our roses; For pale they look with fear, as witnessing The truth on our side. Somerset. No, Planfcagenet, 'Tis not for fear; but anger,—that thy cheeks Blush for pure shame, to counterfeit our roses; And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error. Plantagenet. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset? Somerset. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet ? Plantagenet. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. Somerset. Well, 111 find friends to wear my bleeding roses, 2

Proposed.

32

FIRST PART OP

That shall maintain what I have said is true, Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen. Plantagenet. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy. Suffolk. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet. Plantagenet. Proud Poole, I will; and scorn both him and thee. Suffolk. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. Somerset. Away, away, good William De-la-Poole! We grace the yeoman, by conversing with him. Warwick. Now, by my life, thou wrong'st him, Somerset ; His grandfather was Lionel, duke of Clarence, Third son to the third Edward king of England ; Spring crestless yeomen3 from so deep a root? Plantagenet He bears him on the place's privilege,4 Or durst not, for his craven heart, say thus. Somerset. By him that made me, I'll maintain my words On any plot of ground in Christendom: Was not thy father, Richard, earl of Cambridge, For treason executed in our late king's days? And, by his treason, stand'st not thou attainted, Corrupted, and exempt5 from ancient gentry? His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood: And, till thou be restor'd, thou art a yeoman. Plantagenet. My father was attached, not attainted; Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor; And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset, Were growing time once ripen'd to my will. For your partaker Poole, and you yourself, I'll note you in my book of memory, To scourge you for this apprehension:6 Look to it well; and say you are well warn'd. Somerset. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still: And know us, by these colours, for thy foes ; For these my friends, in spite of thee, shall wear. 4 5

/. e. Those who have no right to arms. The Temple, being a religious house, was a sanctuary. Excluded. c Opinion.

KING HENRY VI.

33

Plantagenet And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I for ever, and my faction, wear; Until it wither with me to my grave, Or flourish to the height of my degree. Suffolk. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition! And so farewell, until I meet thee next. [Exit Somerset Have with thee, Poole.—Farewell, ambitious Richard. [Exit Plantagenet How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure it! Warwick. This blot, that they object against your house, Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloster: And, if thou be not then created York, I will not live to be accounted Warwick. Mean time, in signal of my love to thee, Against proud Somerset, and William Poole, Will I upon thy party wear this rose: And here I prophesy.—This brawl to-day, Grown to this faction, in the Temple garden, Shall send, between the red rose and the white, A thousand souls to death and deadly night. Plantagenet Good master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalf would pluck a flower, Vernon. In your behalf still will I wear the same. Lawyer. And so will I. Plantagenet Thanks, gentle sir. Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say, This quarrel will drink blood another day. [Exeunt SCENE

V.—A Boom in the TOWER.

Enter MORTIMER, brought in a Chair by two KEEPERS. Mortimer. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.— Even like a man new haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment: VOL. IV.

D

34

FIRST PART OF

And these grey locks, the pursuivants 7 of death, Nestor-like aged, in an age of care, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer, These eyes—like lamps whose wasting oil is spent, Wax dim, as drawing*to their exigent: 8 Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grie£ And pithless arms, like to a wither d vine That droops his sapless branches to the ground:— Yet are these feet—whose strengthless stay is numb, Unable to support this lump of clay,— Swift-winged with desire to get a grave, As witting I no other comfort have.— But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come? 1 Keeper. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. We sent unto the Temple, to his chamber; And answer was returned, that he will come. Mortimer. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.— Poor gentleman! Ins wrong doth equal mine. Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign, (Before whose glory I was great in arms,) This loathsome sequestration have I had; And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd, Depriv'd of honour and inheritance: But now, the arbitrator of despairs, Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries, With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence; I would, his troubles likewise were expir'd, That so he might recover what was lost. Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET. 1 Keeper. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. Mortimer. Richard Plantagenet, my friend ? Ishe come ? Plantagenet. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd, Your nephew, late-despised Richard, comes. Mortimer. Direct mine arms, I may embrace his neck, And in his bosom spend my latter gasp: O, tell me, when my lips do touch his cheeks, That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.— 7

Pursuivants are officers who attend upon heralds.

8

End*

KING HENRY VI.

35

And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock, Why didst thou say—of iate thou wert despis'd? Plantagenet. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm? And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.9 This day, in argument upon a case, Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me: Among which terms he used his lavish tongue, And did upbraid me with my father's death; Which obloquy set bars before my tongue, Else with the like I had requited him: Therefore, good uncle,—for my father's sake, In honour of a true Plantagenet, And for alliance' sake,—declare the cause My father, earl of Cambridge, lost his head. Mortimer. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me, And hath detained me, all my flow'ring youth, Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine. Was cursed instrument of his decease. Plantagenet. Discover more at large what cause that was: For I am ignorant, and cannot guess. Mortimer. I will; if that my fading breath permit, And death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry the fourth, grandfather to this king, Depos'd his cousin Eichard; Edward's son, The first-begotten, and the lawful heir Of Edward king, the third of that descent: During whose reign, the Percies of the north, Finding his usurpation most unjust, Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne: The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this, Was—for that (young King Richard thus removed, Leaving no heir begotten of his body,) I was the next by birth and parentage; For by my mother I derived am From Lionel duke of Clarence, the third son To king Edward the third, whereas he, From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree, 9

Uneasiness, discontent.

36

FIRST PART OP

Being but fourth of that heroick line. But mark; as, in this haughty great attempt, They laboured to plant the rightful heir, I lost my liberty, and they their lives. Long after this, when Henry the fifth,— Succeeding his father Bolingbroke,—did reign, Thy father, earl of Cambridge,—then deriv'd, From famous Edmund Langley, duke of York,— Marrying my sister, that my mother was, Again, in pity of my hard distress Levied an army; weening1 to redeem, And have instalTd me in the diadem: But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl, And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers, In whom the title rested, were suppressed. Plantagenet. Of which, my lord, your honour is the last. Mortimer. True; and thou seest, that I no issue have; And that my fainting words do warrant death: Thou art my heir; the rest, I wish thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care. Plantagenet. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me: But yet, methinks, my father's execution Was nothing less than bloody tyranny. Mortimer. With silence, nephew, be thou politick; Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster, And, like a mountain, not to be removed. But now thy uncle is removing hence; As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd With long continuance in a settled place. Plantagenet. O, uncle, 'would some part of my young years Might but redeem the passage of your age! Mortimer. Thou dost then wrong me; as the slaught'rer doth, Which giveth many wounds, when one will kilL Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good; Only, give order for my funeral; 1

Thinking.

KING HENRY VI.

37

And so farewell; and fair be all thy hopes! And prosperous be thy life, in peace, and war. [Dies. Plantagenet. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul! In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, And like a hermit overpaid thy days.— Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast; And what I do imagine, let that rest.— Keepers, convey him hence; and I myself Will see his burial better than his life.— [Exeunt KEEPERS, bearing out MORTIMER. Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort:—• And, for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house,— I doubt not, but with honour to redress; And therefore haste I to the parliament; Either to be restored to my blood, Or make my ill the advantage of my good. [Exit.

ACT

I.—The Parliament House.

SCENE

Flourish.

III.

Enter

KING HENRY, EXETER, GLOSTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and Others. 2 GLOSTER offers to put up a Bill; WINCHESTER snatches

it, and tears it. Winchester. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines, With written pamphlets studiously devis'd, Humphrey of Gloster? if thou canst accuse, Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge, Do it without invention suddenly; As I with sudden and extemporal speech Purpose to answer what thou canst object. Gloster. Presumptuous priest! this place commands my patience, 2

i. e. Articles of accusation.

38

FIRST PART OP

Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonoured me. Think not, although in writing I preferr'd The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes, That therefore I have forg'd or am not able Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen: No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness, Thy vile, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks, That very infants prattle of thy pride. Thou art a niost pernicious usurer: Froward by nature, enemy to peace; Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems A man of thy profession, and degree; And for thy treachery, What's more manifest? In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life, As well at London bridge, as at the Tower? Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted, The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt From envious malice of thy swelling heart. Winchester. Gloster, I do defy thee.—Lords, vouchsafe To give me hearing what I shall reply. If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse, As he will have me, How am I so poor? Or how haps it, I seek not to advance Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling? And for dissension, Who preferreth peace More than I do,—except I be provok'd? No, my good lords, it is not that offends; I t is not that, that hath incens'd the duke: I t is, because no one should sway but he; No one, but he, should be about the king; And that engenders thunder in his breast, And makes him roar these accusations forth. But he shall know, I am as good Gloster. As good: Thou bastard of my grandfather! Winchester. Ay, lordly sir; For what are you, I pray, But one imperious in another's throne? Gloster. Am I not the protector, saucy priest? Winchester. And am I not the prelate of the church?

KING HENRY VI.

39

Gloster. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, And useth it to patronage his theft. Winchester. Unreverent Gloster! Gloster. Thou art reverent Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. Winchester. This Rome shall remedy. Warwick. Roam thither, then* Somerset My lord, it were your duty to forbear. Warwick. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. Somerset. Methinks, my lord should be religious, And know the office that belongs to such. Warwick. Methinks his lordship should be humbler; It fitteth not a prelate so to plead. Somerset. Yes, when his boly state is touch'd so near. Warwick. State holy, or unhallow'd, what of that ? Is not his grace protector to the king ] Plantagenet. Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue; Lest it be said, Speak, sirrah, when you should; Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords ? Else would I have a fling at Winchester. [Aside. King Henry. Uncles of Gloster, and of Winchester, The special watchmen of our English weal; I would prevail, if prayers might prevail, To join your hearts in love and amity. O, what a scandal is it to our crown, That two such noble peers as ye should jar! Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell, Civil dissension is a viperous worm, That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.— [.4 noise within; Down with the tawny coats! What tumult's this? Warwick. An uproar, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the bishop's men. [A noise again; Stones! Stones! Enter the MAYOR of LONDON", attended. Mayor. O, my good lords,—and virtuous Henry Pity the city of London, pity us! The bishop's and the duke of Gloster s men,

40

FIRST PART OP

Forbidden late to carry any weapon, Have filled their pockets full of pebble stones, And, banding themselves in contrary parts, Do pelt so fast at one another's pate, That many have their giddy brains knock'd out. Our windows are broke down in every street, And we, for fear, eompell'd to shut our shops. Enter, skirmishing, the Retairwrs of GLOSTER and WINCHESTER, with bloody pates. King Henry. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself. To hold your slaughtering hands, and keep the peace. Pray, uncle Gloster, mitigate this strife. 1 Servant. Nay, if we be Forbidden stones, well fall to it with our teeth. 2 Servant. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. [Skirmish again. Gloster. You of my household, leave this peevish broil, And set this unaccustom'd fight aside. 3 Servant My lord, we know your grace to be a man Just and upright; and, for your royal birth, Inferior to none, but to his majesty: And ere that we will suffer such a prince, So kind a father of the commonweal, To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate, We, and our wives, and children, all will fight, And have our bodies slaughter'd by thy foes. 1 Servant. Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field, when we are dead. [Skirmish again. Gloster. Stay, stay, I say! And, if you love me, as you say you do, Let me persuade you to forbear a while. King Henry. O, how this discord doth afflict my soul! Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold My sighs and tears, and will not once relent? Who should be pitiful, if you be not? Or who should study to prefer a peace, If holy churchmen take delight in broils?

KING HENRY VI.

41

Wa/rwlck. My lord protector, yield;—yield Winchester;— Except you mean, with obstinate repulse, To slay your sovereign, and destroy the realm. You see what mischief, and what murder too, Hath been enacted through your enmity; Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood. WincJiesler. He shall submit, or I will never yield. Gloster. Compassion on the king commands me stoop! Or, I would see his heart out, ere the priest Should ever get that privilege of me. Warwick. Behold, my lord of Winchester, the duke Hath banish'd moody discontented fury, As by his smoothed brows it doth appear: Why look you still so stern, and tragical? Gloster. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand. King Henry. Fye, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach, That malice was a great and grievous sin: And will you not maintain the thing you teach, But prove a chief offender in the same? Warwick. Sweet king!—the bishop hath a kindly gird.3 For shame, my lord of Winchester! relent; What, shall a child instruct you what to do? Winchester. Well, duke of Gloster, I will yield to thee; Love for thy love, and hand for hand I give. Gloster. Ay; but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.— See here, my friends, and loving countrymen; This token serveth for a flag of truce, Betwixt ourselves, and all our followers; So help me God, as I dissemble not! Winchester. So help me God, as I intend it not! [Aside. King Henry. O loving uncle, kind duke of Gloster, How joyful am I made by this contract!—« Away, my masters! trouble us no more; But join in friendship, as your lords have done. 3

Feels an emotion of kindness.

42

FIRST PART OP

1 Servant Content! I'll to the surgeon's. And so will I. 2 Servant. 3 Servant. And I will see what physick the tavern affords. [Exeunt SERVANTS, MAYOB, &Q. Warwick. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign, Which in the right of Kichard Plantagenet, We do exhibit to your majesty. Gloster. Well urg'd, my lord of Warwick;—for, sweet prince, And if your grace mark every circumstance, You have great reason to do Richard right : Especially, for those occasions At Eltham-place I told your majesty. King Henry. And those occasions, uncle, were offeree: Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is, That Richard be restored to his blood. Warwick. Let Richard be restored to his blood; So shall his father's wrongs be recompensed. Winchester. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester, King Henry. If Richard will be true, not that alone, But all the whole inheritance I give, That doth belong unto the House of York, From whence you spring by lineal descent, Plantagemt. Thy humble servant vows obedience^ And humble service, till the point of death. King Henry. Stoop then, and set your knee against my foot; And, in reguerdon4 of that duty done, I girt thee with the valiant sword of York. Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet; And rise created princely duke of York. Plantagenet. A i d so thrive Richard, as thy foes may fall! And as my duty springs so perish they That grudge one thought against your majesty! All. Welcome, high prince, the mighty duke of York! Somerset. Perish, base prince, ignoble duke of York! Recompense,

KING HENRY VI.

43

Gloster. Now will it best avail your majesty, To cross the seas, and to be crown'd in France: The presence of a king engenders love Amongst his subjects, and his loyal friends; As it disanimates his enemies. King He dry. When Gloster says the word, King Henry goes; For friendly counsel cuts off many foes. Gloster. Your ships already are in readiness. [Exeunt all but EXETER. Exeter. Ay, we may march in England, or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue: This late dissension, grown betwixt the peers, Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love, And will at last break out into a flame: As fester'd members rot but by degrees, Till bones, and flesh, and sinews fall away, So will this base and envious discord breed. And now I fear that fatal prophecy, Which, in the time of Henry, nam'd the fifth, Was in the mouth of every sucking babe, That Henry, born at Monmouth, should win all; And Henry, born at Windsor, should lose all: Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wish His days may finish ere that hapless time. [Exit. SCENE II.—FRANCE.

Before ROUEN.

Enter LA PUCELLE disguised, and SOLDIERS dressed like Countrymen, with Sacks upon their backs. Pucelle. These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen, Through which our policy must make a breach: Take heed, be wary how you place your words; Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men, That come to gather money for their corn. If we have entrance, (as, I hope, we shall,) And that we find the slothful watch but weak, 111 by a sign give notice to our friends, That Charles the dauphin may encounter them.

44

FIRST PART OF

1 Soldier. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Rouen; Therefore we'll knock. [Knocks. Guard. [Within.] Quiestla? Pucelle. Paisans, pauvres gens de France: Poor market-folks, that come to sell their corn. Guard. Enter, go in: the market-bell is rung. [Opens the Gates*

Pucelle. Now Roiien, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground. [PUCELLE, <£C., enter the City. Enter

of ORLEANS, and Forces. Charles. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem! And once again we'll sleep secure in Roiien. Bastard. Here enter'd Pucelle, and her practisants;5 Now she is there, how will she specify Where is the best and safest passage in? Alengon. By tLrusting out a torch from yonder tower; "Which once discern'd shows that her meaning is,— No way to that, 6 for weakness, which she enter'd. Enter

CHARLES, BASTARD

on a Battlement; holding out a Torch burning. , Pucelle. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch, That joineth Roiien unto her countrymen; But burning fatal to the Talbotites. Bastard. See, noble Charles! the beacon of our friend, The burning torch in yonder turret stands. Charles. Now shine it like a comet of revenge, .A prophet to the fall of all our foes! Alengon. Defer no time, Delays have dangerous ends; Enter, and cry—The Dauphin!—presently, And then to execution on the watch. [They enter. L A PUCELLE^

Alarums. Enter TALBOT, and certain English. Talbot. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, 6

Confederates in stratagems,

6

i. c. No way equal to that

KING HENRY VI.

45

If Talbot but survive thy treachery.— Pucelle, that witch, that cursed sorceress, Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, That hardly we escaped the pride of France. [Exeunt to tlie Town. Alarum: Excursions. Enter from the Town, BEDFORD, brought in sick, in a Chair, with TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the ENGLISH FORCES. Tlven enter, on the Walls, L A PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD, ALEN$ON and Others. Pucelle. Good morrow, gallants! want ye corn for bread? I think, the duke of Burgundy will fast, Before hell buy again at such a rate: 5 Twas full of darnel; Do you like the taste? Burgundy. Scoff on, vile fiend, and shameless courtezan ! I trust, ere long, to choke thee with thine own, And make thee curse the harvest of that corn. Chwrles. Your grace may starve, perhaps, before that time. Bedford. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason! Pucelle. What will you do, good grey-beard? break a lance, And run a tilt at death within a chair? Talbot. Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite, Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age, And twit with cowardice a man half dead ? Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again, Or else let Talbot perish with this shame. Pucelle. Are you so hot, sir?—Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace; If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.— [TALBOT, and the rest consult together.

Talbot. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field? Pucelle. Belike, your lordship takes us then for fools, To try if that our own be ours, or no.

46

FIRST PART OF

Talbot. I speak not to that railing Hecat^ But unto thee, Alengon, and the rest; Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? Alengon. Signior, no. Talbot. Signior, hang!—base muleteers of France! Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls; And dare not take up arms like gentlemen. Pucelh. Captains, away: let's get us from the walls; For Talbot means no goodness, by his looks.— We came, sir, but to tell you we are here. [Exeunt L A PUCELLE, fac^fmtn the Walk. Talbot. And there will we be too, ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!— Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house, (Pricked on by public wrongs, sustained in France,) Either to get the town again, or die: And I,—as sure as English Henry lives, And as his father here was conqueror; As sure as in this late betrayed town Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried; So sure I swear to get the town, or die. Burgundy. My vows are equal partners with thy vows. Talbot. But, ere we go, regard this dying prince, The valiant duke of Bedford:—Come, my lord, We will bestow you in some better place, Fitter for sickness, and for crazy age. Bedford. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour roe: Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen, And will be partner of your weal, or woe. Burgundy. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you. Bedford. 'Not to be gone from hence; for once I read, That stout Pendragon, in his litter, sick, Came to the field, and vanquished his foes: Methinks, I should revive the soldiers' hearts, Because I ever found them as myself. Talbot. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast !— Then be it so:—Heavens keep old Bedford safe!— And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,

KING HENRY VI.

47

But gather we our forces out of hand, And set upon our boasting enemy. [Exeunt BUKGUNDY, TALBOT, and Forces, leaving BEDFORD, and Others. Alarums: Excursions.

Enter

SIR JOHN FASTOLFE, and a CAPTAIN.

Captain. Whither away, sir John Fastolfe, in such haste? Fastolfe. Whither away ? to save myself by flight; We are like to have the overthrow again. Captain. What! will you fly, and leave lord Talbot? Fastolfe. Ay, All the Talbots in the world to save my life. [Exit. Captain. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee! [Exit. Retreat: Excursions.

Enter from the Town, LA PUand exeunt, flying. Bedford, Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please; For I have seen our enemies' overthrow. What is the trust or strength of foolish men? They, that of late were daring with their scoffs, Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves. [Dies, and is carried off in his Chair. CELLE, ALEN^ON, CHARLES, &C,

Alarum: Enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and Others. Talbot Lost, and recover'd in a day again! This is a double honour, Burgundy: Yet, heavens have glory for this victory! Burgundy. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart; and there erects Thy noble deeds, as valour's monument. Talbot. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now? I think, her old familiar is asleep: Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?7 7

Scoffs,

48

PIKST PART OP

What, all a-mort?8 Koiien hangs her head for grief, That such a valiant company are fled. Now will we take some order9 in the town, Placing therein some expert officers; And then depart to Paris, to the king: For there young Harry, with his nobles, lies. Burgundy. What wills lord Talbot, pleaseth Burgundy. Talbot. But yet, before we go, let's not forget The noble duke of Bedford, late deeeas'd, But see his exequies1 fulfill'd in Rouen; A braver soldier never couched lance, A gentler heart did never sway in court: But kings, and mightiest potentates, must die; For that's the end of human misery. [Eoceunt. SCENE

Enter

III.—TJw Plains near the City.

the BASTAKD, ALENCJON, L A PUCELLE, and Forces. Pucelle. Dismay not, princes, at this accident, Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered: Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied. Let frantick Talbot triumph for a while, And like a peacock sweep along his tail; We'll pull his plumes, and take away his train, If dauphin, and the rest, will be but rul'd. Charles. We have been guided by thee hitherto, And of thy cunning had no diffidence; One sudden foil shall never breed distrust. Bastard. Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world. Alengon. We'll set thy statue in some holy place, And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint; Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good. Pucdle. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise I By fair persuasions, mix'd with sugar'd words, 8 1

CHARLES,

Quite dispirited, Funeral rites.

° Make some necessary dispositions.

KING HENRY VI.

49

We will entice the duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot, and to follow us. Charles. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that, France were no place for Henry's warriors; Nor should that nation boast it so with us, But be extirped from our provinces. AUngon. For ever should they be expuls'd2 from France, And not have title to an earldom here. Pucdle. Your honours shall perceive how I will work, To bring this matter to the wished end. [Drums heard. Hark! by the sound of drum, you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. An

ENGLISH MARCH. Enter, and pass over at distance, TALBOT and his Forces.

a

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

Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY, and Forces. Now in the rearward comes the duke, and his; Fortune, in favour, makes him lag behind. Summon a parley, we will talk with him. [A parley sounded. Charles. A parley with the duke of Burgundy. Burgundy. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ? Pucelle. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman. Burgundy. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence. Chcvrles. Speak, Pucelle; and enchant him with thy words. Pucelle. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France! Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. Burgundy. Speak on; but be not over-tedious. Pucdle. Look on thy country, look on fertile France, FRENCH MARCH.

VOL. IV-

E

50

FIRST PART OF

And see the cities and the towns defac'd By wasting ruin of the cruel foe! As looks the mother on her lowly babe, When death doth close his tender dying eyes, See, see. the pining malady of France; Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds, Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast! O, turn thy edged sword another way; Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help! One drop of blood, drawn from thy country's bosom, Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore; Return thee, therefore, with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots! Burgundy. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent. Pucelh. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee, Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny. Who join'st thou with, but with a lordly nation, That will not trust thee, but for profit's sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill, Who then, but English Henry, will be lord, And thou be thrust out, like a fugitive; Call we to mind,—and mark but this, for proof;— Was not the duke of Orleans thy foe? And was he not in England prisoner? But, when they heard he was thine enemy, They set him free, without his ransome paid, In spite of Burgundy, and all his friends. See then! thou fight'st against thy countrymen, And join'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord; Charles, and the rest, will take thee in their arms. Burgundy. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot, And made me almost yield upon my knees.—

KING HENRY VI.

51

Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen! And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace: My forces and my power of men are yours;— So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee. Pucelle. Done like a Frenchman, turn, and turn again! Charles. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh. Bastard. And doth beget new courage in our breasts. Alengon. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this, And doth deserve a coronet of gold. Charles. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers; And seek how we may prejudice the foe. \Exeunt. SCENE IV.—PARIS.

A Room in the Palace.

KING HENRY, GLOSTER, and other Lords, YERNON, BASSET, &C. TO them TALBOT, and some of his Officers.

Enter

Talbot. My gracious prince,—and honourable peers,— Hearing of your arrival in this realm, I have a while given truce unto my wars, To do my duty to my sovereign: In sign whereof, this arm—that hath reclaim'd To your obedience fifty fortresses, Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength, Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,— Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet; And, with submissive loyalty of heart, Ascribes the glory of his conquest got, First to my God, and next unto your grace. King Henry. Is this the fam'd lord Talbot, uncle Gloster, That hath so long been resident in France? Gloster. Yes, if it please your majesty, my liege. King Henry. Welcome, brave captain, and victorious lord! When I was young, (as yet I am not old,) I do remember how my father said, A stouter champion never handled sword.

52

FIRST PART OF

Long since we were resolved 3 of your truth, Your faithful service, and your toil in war; Yet never have you tasted our reward, Or been reguerdon'd4 with so much as thanks, Because till now we never saw your face: Therefore, stand up; and, for these good deserts, We here create you earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place. [Exeunt KING HENRY, GLOSTER, TALBOT, and Nobles. Vernon. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea, Disgracing of these colours that I wear In honour of my noble lord of York.— Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st? Basset. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage The envious barking of your saucy tongue Against my lord the duke, of Somerset. Vernon. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is. Basset. Why, what is he ? as good a man as York. Vernon. Hark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that. [Strikes him. Basset. Yillain, thou know'st the law of arms is such, That, whoso draws a sword, 'tis present death; Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood. But I'll unto his majesty, and crave I may have liberty to venge this wrong ; When thou shalt see, I'll meet thee to thy cost. Vernon. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you; And, after, meet you sooner than you would. \Exewd. 8

Confirmed in opinion.

4

Rewarded.

KING HENRY VI.

53

ACT IY. SCENE I.—PARIS.

A Boom of State.

Enter

KING HENRY, GLOSTER, EXETER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WINCHESTER, WARWICK, TALBOT, the Governor of PARIS, and Others.

Gloster. Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head. Winchester. God save king Henry, ofthat name the sixth! Gloster. Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,— [Governor kneels.

That you elect no other king but him: Esteem none friends, but such as are his friends; And none your foes, but such as shall pretend 5 Malicious practices against his state. [Exeunt GOVERNOR and his Train. Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE. Fastolfe. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais, To hasten unto your coronation, A letter was delivered to my hands, Writ to your grace from the duke of Burgundy. Talbot. Shame to the duke of Burgundy, and thee! 1 vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the garter from thy craven's6 leg, [Plucking it off. (Which I have done,) because unworthily Thou wast installed in that high degree.— Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest: This dastard at the battle of Patay, When but in all I was six thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one,— Before we met, or that a stroke was given, Like to a trusty squire, did run away; In which assault we lost twelve hundred men; Myself, and divers gentlemen beside, Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners. Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss; 5

Design.

6

Mean, dastardly.

54

FIRST PART OP

Or whether that such cowards ought to wear This ornament of knighthood, yea, or no. Gloster. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill beseeming any common man; Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader. Talbot. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords. Knights of the garter were of noble birth; Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty 7 courage, Such as were grown to credit by the wars; Not fearing death, nor shrinking for distress. Eut always resolute in most extremes. He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort, Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight, Profaning this most honourable order; And should (if I were worthy to be judge) Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain That doth presume to boast of gentle blood. King Henry. Stain to thy countrymen! thou hear'st thy doom: Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight; Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.— [Exit FASTOLFE. And now, my lord protector, view the letter Sent from our uncle duke of Burgundy. Gloster. What means his grace, that he hath chang'd his style? [Viewing the superscription. No more but, plain and bluntly,—To the Jang ? Hath he forgot, he is his sovereign? Or doth this churlish superscription Pretend some alteration in good will? What's here?—/ have, upon especial cause,— [Reads. Movd wiili compassion of my country's ivreck, Together witJi the pitiful complaints Of such as your oppression feeds upon,—* Forsaken your pernicious faction, And join}d with CJiarles, the rightful king of France. O monstrous treachery! Can this be so; High.

KING HENRY VI.

55

That in alliance, amity, and oaths, There should be found such false dissembling guile? King Henry. What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt? Gloster. He doth, my lord; and is become your foe. King Henry. Is that the worst, this letter doth contain? Gloster. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes. King Henry. Why then, lord Talbot there shall talk with him, And give him chastisement for this abuse:— My lord, how say you? are you not content? Talbot. Content, my liege? Yes; but that I am prevented, 8 I should have begg'd I might have been employed. King Henry. Then gather strength, and march unto him straight: Let him perceive, how ill we brook his treason; And what offence it is, to flout his friends. Talbot. I go, my lord; in heart desiring still, You may behold confusion of your foes. [Exit. Enter YERNON and BASSET. Vernon. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign! Basset. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too! York. This is my servant; Hear him, noble prince. Somerset. And this is mine; Sweet Henry, favour him! King Henry. Be patient, lords; and give them leave to speak.— Say, gentlemen, What makes you thus exclaim? And wherefore crave you combat ? or with whom ? Vernon. With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong. Basset. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong. King Henry. What is that wrong whereof you both complain? First let me know, and then I'll answer you. Basset. Crossing the sea from England into France, This fellow here, with envious carping tongue, Upbraided me about the rose I wear; b

Anticipated.

5Q

FIRST PART OP

Saying—the sanguine colour of the leaves Did represent my master's blushing cheeks, When stubbornly he did repugn 9 the truth, About a certain question in the law, Argu'd betwixt the duke of York and him; With other vile and ignominious terms: In confutation of which rude reproach, And in defence of my lord's worthiness, I crave the benefit of law of arms. Vernon. And that is my petition, noble lord: For though he seem, with forged quaint conceit, To set a gloss upon his bold intent, Yet know, my lord, T was provok'd by him; And he first took exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing—that the paleness of this flower Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart. York. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left? Somerset. Your private grudge, my lord of York, will out, Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it. King Henry. Alas! what madness rules in brain-sick men! When, for so slight and frivolous a cause, Such factious emulations shall arise! Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace. York. Let this dissension first be tried by fight; And then your highness shall command a peace. Somerset. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone; Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then. York. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset. Vernon. Nay, let it rest where it began at first. Basset. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord. Gloster. Confirm it so ? confounded be your strife, And perish ye, with your audacious prate! Presumptuous vassals! are you not asham'd, With this immodest clamorous outrage To trouble and disturb the king and us? And you, my lords,—methinks, you do not well, 9

Re^st.

KING HENRY VI.

£7

To bear with their perverse objections; Much less, to take occasion from their mouths To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves; Let me persuade you take a better course. Exeter. It grieves his highness;—Good my lords, be friends. King Henry. Come hither, you that would be combatants : Henceforth, I charge you, as you love our favour. Quite to forget this quarrel, and the cause.— And you, my lords, remember where we are; In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation: If they perceive dissension in our looks, And that within ourselves we disagree, How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd To wilful disobedience, and rebel? Beside, what infamy will there arise, When foreign princes shall be certified, That, for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henry's peers, and chief nobility, Destroy'd themselves, and lost the realm of France? O, think upon the conquest of my father, My tender years; and let us not forego That for a trifle, that was bought with blood! Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife. I see no reason, if I wear this rose, [Putting on a red Rose. That any one should therefore be suspicious I more incline to Somerset than York : Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both: As well they may upbraid me with my crown, Because, forsooth, the king of Scots is crown'd. But your discretions better can persuade, Than I am able to instruct or teach: And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let us still continue peace and love.— Cousin of York, we institute your grace To be our regent in these parts of France:— And good my lord of Somerset, unite

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FIRST PART OP

Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;— And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors, Go cheerfully together, and digest Your angry choler on your enemies. Ourself, my lord protector, and the rest, After some respite, will return to Calais; From thence to England; where I hope ere long To be presented, by your victories, With Charles, Alen^on, and that traitorous rout. [Flourish. Exeunt K. HENRY, GLOSTER, SOMERSET, WINCHESTER, SUFFOLK, and BASSET.

Warwick. My lord of York, I promise you, the king Prettily, methought, did play the orator. York. And so he did; but yet I like it not, In that he wears the badge of Somerset. Warwick. Tush! that was but his fancy, blame himnot; I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm. York. And, if I wist he did,—But let it rest; Other affairs must now be managed. [Exeunt YORK, WARWICK, and VERNON. Exeter. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice; For, had the passions of thy heart burst out, I fear we should have seen deciphered there More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils, Than yet can be imagined or suppos'd: But howsoe'er, no simple man that sees This jarring discord of nobility, This should'ring of each other in the court, This factious bandying of their favourites, But that it doth presage some ill event. 'Tis much, when scepters are in children's hands; But more, when envy breeds unkind division; There comes the ruin, there begins confusion. [Exit.

KING HENRY VI. SCENE II.—FRANCE.

59

Before BOURDEAUX.

Enter TALBOT, with his FORCES. Talbot. Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter, Summon their general unto the wall. Trumpet sounds a Parley. Enter, on tJw Watts, the GENERAL of the FRENCH FORCES, and Others. English John Talbot, captains, calls you forth, Servant in arms to Harry king of England; And thus he would,—Open your city gates, Be humble to us; call my sovereign yours, And do him homage as obedient subjects, And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power : But, if you frown upon this proffer'd peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire; Who, in a moment, even with the earth Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers, If you forsake the offer of their love. General. Thou ominous and fearful owl of death, Our nation's terror, and their bloody scourge! The period of thy tyranny approacheth. On us thou canst not enter bat by death: For, 1 protest, we are well fortified, And strong enough to issue out and fight: If thou retire, the dauphin, well appointed, Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee: On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd, To wall thee from the liberty of flight; And no way canst thou turn thee for redress, But death doth front thee with apparent spoil, And pale destruction meets thee in the face. Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament, To rive their dangerous artillery Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo! there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man, Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit:

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WBST PART OF

This is the latest glory of thy praise, That I, thy enemy, due2 thee withal; For ere the glass, that now begins to run, Finish the process of this sandy hour, These eyes, that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee wither'd, bloody, pale, and dead. [Drum afa/r off. Hark! hark! the dauphin's drum, a warning bell, Sings heavy musick to thy timorous soul; And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. \Exeunt GENERAL, <£C., from the Walk.

TalboL He fables not, I hear the enemy;— Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.— O, negligent and heedless discipline! How are we park'd, and bounded in a pale; A little herd of England's timorous deer, Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs! If we be English deer, be then in blood:3 Not rascal-like,4 to fall down with a pinch; But rather moody-mad, and desperate stags, Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel, And make the cowards stand aloof at bay: Sell every man his life as dear as mine, And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.— God, and saint George! Talbot, and England's right! Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight. [Eocewit, SCENE

III.—Plains in

GASCONY.

Enter YORK, with Forces; to him a MESSENGER.

York. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again, That dogg'd the mighty army of the dauphin? Messenger. They are return'd, my lord; and give it out, That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power, To fight with Talbot: As he march'd along, By your espials5 were discovered 9 4 6

Endue, honour. 3 T n Wffh 9piritg# A rascal deer is the term of chase for lean poor deer. Spies.

KING HENRY VI.

61

Two mightier troops than that the dauphin led; Which join'd with him, and made their march for Bourdeaux. York. A plague upon that villain Somerset , That thus delays my promised supply Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege! Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid, And I am lowted6 by a traitor villain, And cannot help the noble chevalier: God comfort him in his necessity! If he miscarry, farewell wars in France. Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY. Lucy. Thou princely leader of our English strength, Never so needful on the earth of France, Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot; Who now is girdled with a waist of iron, And hemm'd about with grim destruction: To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York I Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour. York O, would that Somerset—who in proud heart Doth stop my cornets—were in Talbot's place! So should we save a valiant gentleman, By forfeiting a traitor and a coward. Mad ire, and wrathful fury, makes me weep, That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep. Lucy. O, send some succour to the distress'd lord! York He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word: We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get; All long of this vile traitor Somerset. Lucy. Then, God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul! And on his son, young John; whom two hours since, I met in travel toward his warlike father. These seven years did not Talbot see his son; And now they meet where both their lives are done, York Alas! what joy shall noble Talbot have, To bid his young son welcome to his grave? Away! vexation almost stops my breath, 6

Vanquished, baffled.

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FIRST PART OF

That sunder d friends greet in the hour of death.— Lucy, farewell: no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.— Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away. [Exit. 'Long all of Somerset, and his delay. Lucy. Thus, while the vulture of sedition Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss The conquest of our scarce-cold conqueror, That ever-living man of memory, Henry the fifth:—Whiles they each other cross, [Exit. Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. SCENE

Enter

IV.—Other Plains of

SOMERSET, with his Forces; TALBOT'S with him.

GASCONY.

an

OFFICER

of

Somerset. It is too late; I cannot send them now: This expedition was by York, and Talbot, Too rashly plotted; all our general force Might with a sally of the very town Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour, By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure; York set him on to fight, and die in shame, That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name. Officer. Here is sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid. Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY. Somerset How now, sir William, whither were you sent? Lucy. Whither, my lord? from bought and sold lord Talbot; Who, ring'd about7 with bold adversity, Cries out for noble York and Somerset, To beat assailing death from his weak legions. And whiles the honourable captain there 7

Encircled.

KING HENRY VI.

G3

Drops bloody s^eat from his war-wearied limbs, And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue, You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour, Keep off aloof with worthless emulation. Let not your private discord keep away The levied succours that should lend him aid, While he, renowned noble gentleman, Yields up his life unto a world of odds: Orleans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alen^on, Iteignier, compass him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default. Somerset. York set him on, York should have sent him aid. Lucy. And York as fast upon your grace exclaims; Swearing that you withhold his levied horse, Collected for this expedition. Somerset York lies; he might have sent and had the horse: I owe him little duty, and less love; And take foul scorn, to fawn on him by sending. Lucy. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot : Never to England shall he bear his life; But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife. Somerset. Come, go; I will despatch the horsemen straight: Within six hours they will be at his aid. Lucy. Too late comes rescue: he is ta'en or slain: For fly he could not, if he would have fled, And fly would Talbot never, though he might. Somerset. If he be dead, brave Talbot then adieu! Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you, [Exeunt. V.—The ENGLISH CAMP, near BOURDEAUX. Enter TALBOT, and JOHN his SON. Talbot O young John Talbot! I did send for thee, To tutor thee in stratagems of war; That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd, SCENE

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FIRST PART OF

When sapless age, and week unable limbs, Should bring thy father to his drooping chair. But,—0 malignant and ill-boding stars!— Now thou art come unto a feast of death, A terrible and unavoided8 danger: Therefore, dear boy, mount on thy swiftest horse; And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape By sudden flight: come, dally not; begone. John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your son? And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother, Dishonour not her honourable name, To make a bastard, and a slave of me; The world will say—He is not Talbot's blood, That basely fled, when noble Talbot stood. Talbot. Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain. John. He, that flies so, will ne'er return again. Talbot. If we both stay, we both are sure to die. John. Then let me stay; and, 'father, do you fly: Your loss is great, so your regard9 should be; My worth unknown, no loss is known in me. Upon my death the French can little boast; In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. Flight cannot stain the honour you have won ; But mine it will, that no exploit have done: You fled for vantage every one will swear; But, if I bow, they'll say—it was for fear. There is no hope that ever I will stay, If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away. Here, on my knee, I beg mortality, Rather than life preserv'd with infamy. Talbot Shall all thy mother's hopes li€ in one tomb? John. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb. Talbot. Upon my blessing, I command thee go. John. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe. Talbot. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee. John. No part of him, but will be shame in me. Talbot. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it. John. Yes, your renowned name; Shall flight abuse it? 8

For unavoidable.

*> y O ur care of your own wsafcty.

KING HENRY VI.

65

Talbot. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain. John. You cannot witness for me, being slain. If death be so apparent, then both fly. Talbot And leave my followers here, to fight and die? My age was never tainted with such shame. John. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame? No more can I be sever'd from your side, Than can yourself yourself in twain divide: Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I; For live I will not, if my father die. Talbot. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son. Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon. Come, side by side together live and die; And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. \Exeunt. SCENE

VI.—A Field of Battle.

Alarum: Excursions, wherein TALBOT'S SON is hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him. Talbot. Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers, fight: The regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left us to the rage of France's sword. Where is John Talbot ?—pause, and take thy breath; I gave thee life, and rescu'd thee from death. John. O twice, my father! twice am I thy son: The life thou gav'st me first, was lost and done; Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, To my determin'd1 time thou gav'st new date, Talbot. When from the dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire, It warm d thy father's heart with proud desire Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age, Quicken'd with youthful spleen, and warlike rage, Beat down Alencjon, Orleans, Burgundy, And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee. The ireful bastard Orleans—that drew blood From thee, my boy; and had the maidenhood 1

VOL. IV.

Ended. F

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FIRST PAET OP

Of thy first fight—I soon encounter'd; And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace, Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, And misbegotten blood I spill of thine, Meom and right poor; for that pwre blood of mine, Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:— Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in strong rescue. Speak thy father's care; Art not thou weary, John? How dost thou fare! Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly, Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry? Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead; The help of one stands me in little stead. O, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our lives in one small boat. If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage, To-morrow I shall die with mickle age: By me they nothing gain, and if I stay, 'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day: In thee thy mother dies, our household's name, My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame: All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay; All these are sav'd, if thou wilt fly away. John. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart, These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart: On that advantage, bought with such a shame, (To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,) Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly, The coward horse, that bears me, fall and die: And like2 me to the peasant boys of France; To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance! Surely, by all the glory you have won, An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son: Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot; If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot. Talbot. Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete, Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet : 2

Make me like.

KING HENRY VI.

If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side; And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride. SCENE

67

[Exeunt.

VII.—Anotiier Part of the same.

Alarum: Excursions. Enter TALBOT wounded, supported by a SERVANT. Talbot. Where is my other life ? mine own is gone;— O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?— Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity! Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:— When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandish'd over me, And, like a hungry lion, did commence Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience; But when my angry guardant stood alone, Tend'ring my ruin,3 and assail'd of none, Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clust'ring battle of the French: And in that sea of blood my boy did drench His overmounting spirit; and there died My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride. Enter SOLDIERS, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT. Servant. O, my dear lord! lo, where your son is borne! TalboL Thou antick death, which laugh'st us here to scorn, Anon, from thy insulting tyranny, Coupled in bonds of perpetuity, Two Talbots, winged through the lither 4 sky, In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality.— O thou whose wounds become hard-favour'd death, Speak to thy father, ere thou yield thy breath: Brave death by speaking, whether he will, or no; Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy foe.— Poor boy! he smiles, methinks; as who should say— 3 4

" Watching me with tenderness in my fall." Flexible, yielding.

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FIRST PART OP

Had death been French, then death had died to-day. Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms; My spirit can no longer bear these harms, Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have, Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. [Dies. Alarums. Exeunt SOLDIERS and SERVANT, leaving the two Bodies. Enter CHARLES, ALENCJON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD, L A PUCELLE, and Forces. Charles. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, We should have found a bloody day of this. Bastard. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging wood,5 Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood! Pucelle. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said, Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid: But—with a proud, majestical, high scorn,— He answer'd thus; Young Talbot was not born To be the pillage of a giglot6 wench: So, rushing in the bowels of the French* He left me proudly, as unworthy fight. Bwrgundy. Doubtless, he would have made a noble knight. See, where he lies inhersed in the arms Of the most bloody nurser of his harms. Bastard. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder; Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder. Charles. O, no; forbear: for that which we have fled During the life, let us not wrong it dead. Enter

SIR WILLIAM LUCY, attended; HERALD preceding.

a

FRENCH

Lucy. Herald, Conduct me to the dauphin's tent; to know Who hath obtain'd the glory of the day. Charles. On what submissive message art thou sent? Lucy. Submission, dauphin? 'tis a mere French word; We English warriors wot not what it means, 5

Raving mad.

• Wanton.

KING HENRY VI,

69

I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en, And to survey the bodies of the dead. Charles. For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou seek'st. Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field. Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury] Created, for his rare success in arms, Great earl of Washford, Waterford, and Yalence; Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield, Lord Strange of Blackrnere, lord Yerdun of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, lord Furnival of Sheffield, The thrice victorious lord of Falconbridge; Knight of the noble order of saint George, Worthy saint Michael and the golden fleece; Great mareshal to Henry the sixth, Of all his wars within the realm of France? Pucelle. Here is a silly-stately style indeed! The Turk, that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath, Writes not so tedious a style as this.— Him, that thou magnifiest with all these titles, Bloody and breathless lies here at our feet* Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchmen's only scourge, Your kingdom's terrour and black Nemesis? O, were mine eyeballs into bullets tum'd, That I, in rage, might shoot them at your faces O, that I could but call these dead to life! It were enough to fright the realm of France : Were but his picture left among you here, It would amaze the proudest of you all. Give me their bodies; that I may bear them hence, And give them burial as beseems their worth. Pucelle. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. But let him have 'em. Charles. Take their bodies hence. Lucy. I'll bear them hence: But from their ashes shall be rear'd A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.

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Charles. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt. And now to Paris, in this conquering vein; All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. [Exeunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.—LONDON.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING HENRY, GLOSTER, and EXETER. King Henry. Have you perus'd the letters from the pope, The emperor, and the earl of Armagnac ? Gloster. I have, my lord; and their intent is this,— They humbly sue unto your excellence, To have a godly peace concluded o£ Between the realms of England and of France. King Henry. How doth your grace affect their motion? Gloster.Well, my good lord; and as the only means To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And 'stablish quietness on every side. King Henry. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought, I t was both impious and unnatural, That such immanity7 and bloody strife Should reign among professors of one faith. Gloster. Beside, my lord,—the sooner to effect> And surer bind, this knot of amity,— The earl of Armagnac—near knit to Charles, A man of great authority in France,— Proffers his only daughter to your grace In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. King Henry. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are young, And fitter is my study and my books, Than wanton dalliance with a paramour. Yet, call the ambassadors; and, as you please, So let them have their answers every one: 7

Inhumanity.

KING HENRY VI.

71

I shall be well content with any choice, Tends to God's glory, and my country's weal. Enter a

LEGATE, and CHESTER, in

two AMBASSADORS, with W I N a Cardinal's habit. Exeter. "What! is my lord of Winchester instalTd, And call'd unto a cardinal's degree! Then, I perceive, that will be verified, Henry the fifth did sometime prophecy,— If once he came to be a cardinal, Hell make his cap co-equal with the crown.

King Henry. My lords ambassadors, your several suits Have been considered and debated on. Your purpose is both good and reasonable: And, therefore, are we certainly resolv'd To draw conditions of a friendly peace; Which, by my lord of Winchester, we mean Shall be transported presently to France. Gloster. And for the proffer of my lord your master,— I have informed his highness so at large, As—liking of the lady's virtuous gifts, Her beauty, and the value of her dower,— He doth intend she shall be England's queen. King Henry. In argument and proof of which contract, Bear her this jewel, [To the AMBASSADOR,] pledge of my affection. And so, niy lord protector, see them guarded, And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd, Commit them to the fortune of the sea. [Exeunt KING HENRY and TRAIN ; GLOSTER, EXETER, and AMBASSADORS.

Winchester. Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive The sum of money, which I promised Should be deliver'd to his holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments. Legate. 1 will attend upon your lordship's leisure. Winchester. Now, Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceive,

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That, neither in birth, or for authority, The bishop will be overborne by thee : Til either make thee stoop, and bend thy knee, Or sack this country with a mutiny. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—FRANCE.

Plains in ANJOU.

Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENQON, L A PUCELLE, and Forces, inarching. Charles. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits: 'Tis said, the stout Parisians do revolt, And turn again unto the warlike French. Alengon. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France, And keep not back your powers in dalliance. Pucelle. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us; Else, ruin combat with their palaces! Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. Success unto our valiant general, And happiness to his accomplices! Charles. What tidings send our scouts? I pr'ythee, speak. Messenger. The English army, that divided was Into two parts, is now conjoin'd in one; And means to give you battle presently. Charles. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is; But we will presently provide for them. Burgundy. I trust, the ghost of Talbot is not there; Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. Pucelle. Of all base passions, fear is most accursed:— Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine; Let Henry fret, and all the world repine* Charles. Then on, my lords; And France be fortunate!

KING HENBY VI.

SCENE

IIL—Before

73

ALGIERS.

Atarums: Excursions. Enter LA PUCELLE. Pucelle. The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly.Now help, ye charming spells, and periapts; 8 And ye choice spirits that admonish me, And give me signs of future accidents! You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north,9 Appear, and aid me in this enterprise!— No, they forsake me. Then the time is come, That France must vail1 her lofty-plumed crest, And let her head fall into England's lap. My ancient incantations are too weak, And hell too strong for me to buckle with: Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust* \Eocit. Alarums.

Enter FRENCH and ENGLISH Jighting. LA and YORK fight hand to hand. LA PUCELLE is taken. The FRENCH J?y. York. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast: Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms, And try if they can gain your liberty.-^See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows, As if, with Circe, she would change my shape. Pucelle. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be* York. 0, Charles the dauphin is a proper man \ No shape but his can please your dainty eye. PuceHe. A plaguing mischief light on Charles, and thse! And may ye both be suddenly surpriz'd By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds! York. Fell, banning 2 hag! enchantress, hold tfay tongue. PUCELLE

8 9 1

Charms worn about the person. The north was supposed to be the particular habitation of bad spirits. 2 Lower. To ban is to curse.

74

FIRST PART OP

Pucelle. I pr'ythee, give me leave to curse a while. York. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake. [Exeunt. Alarums. Enter SUFFOLK leading in LADY MARGAJRET. Suffolk. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. [Gazes on her. 0 fairest beauty, do not fear, nor fly; For I will touch thee but with reverent hands, And lay them gently on thy tender side. 1 kiss these fingers [Kissing her hand\ for eternal peace: Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee. Margaret. Margaret my name; and daughter to a king, The king of Naples, whosoe'er thou art. Suffolk. And earl I am, and Suffolk am I calTd. Be not offended, nature's miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me: So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings, Yet, if this servile usage once offend, Go, and be free again as Suffolk's friend. [She turns away as going. O, stay!—I have no power to let her pass; My hand would free her, but my heart says—no. As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind: Fye, De la Poole! disable not thyself;3 Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner? Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight? Ay; beauty's princely majesty is such, Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough. Margaret. Say, earl of Suffolk,—if thy name be so— What ransome must I pay before I pass? For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner. 3

" Do not represent thyself so weak."

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75

Suffolk. How canst thou tell, she will deny thy suit, Before thou make a trial of her love? [Aside. Margaret. Why speak'st thou not? what ransome must I pay? Suffolk. She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd: She is a woman; therefore to be won. [Aside. Margaret. Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea, or no? Suffolk. Fond man! remember that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? [Aside. Margaret. I were best leave him, for he will not hear. Suffolk. There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card. Margaret. He talks at random; sure the man is mad. Suffolk. And yet a dispensation may be had. Margaret. And yet I would that you would answer me. Suffolk. I'll win this lady Margaret for my king. And so my fancy4 may be satisfied, And peace established between these realms. But there remains a scruple in that too : For though her father be the king of Naples, Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor, And our nobility will scorn the match. [Aside. Margaret Hear ye, captain? Are you not at leisure? Suffolk. It shall be so, disdain they near so much: Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.— [Aside. Madam, I have a secret to reveal. Margaret-. What though I be enthralled? he seems a knight, And will not any way dishonour me. [Aside. Suffolk. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. Mwgaret. Perhaps, I shall be rescued by the French; And then I need not crave his courtesy. [Aside. Suffolk. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause— Margaret. Tush! women have been captivate ere now. [Aside* Suffolk. Lady, wherefore talk you so? Mcvrgaref. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo, 4

Love,

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Suffolk. Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a queen? Margaret To be a queen in bondage, is more vile Than is a slave in base servility; For princes should be free. Suffolk. And so shall you I t happy England's royal king be free. Margaret. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me? Suffolk. I'll undertake to make thee Henrys queen; To put a golden sceptre in thy hand, And set a precious crown upon thy head, If thou wilt condescend to be my— Margaret. What? Suffolk. His love. Margaret. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife. Suffolk. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am To woo so fair a dame to be his wife, And have no portion in the choice myself. How say you, madam; are you so content. Margaret. An if my father please, I am content. Suffolk. Then call our captains, and our colours, forth: And, madam, at your father's castle walls We'll crave a parley, to confer with him. [Troops coine forward. A Parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER on the Walls. Suffolk. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner Reignier. To whom? Suffolk. To me. Reignier. Suffolk, what remedy? I am a soldier; and unapt to weep, Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness. Suffolk. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord: Consent, (and for thy honour, give consent,) Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king; Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto; And this her easy held imprisonment Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty. Reignier. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?

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77

Suffolk. Fair Margaret knows, That Suffolk doth not flatter, face,5 or feign. Reignier. Upon thy princely warrant, I descend, To give the answer of thy just demand. [Exit from the Walls. Suffolk. And here I will expect thy coming. Trumpets sounded. Enter REIGNIER, beloiv. Reignier. Welcome, brave earl, into our territories; Command in Anjou what your honour pleases. Suffolk. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king: What answer makes your grace unto my suit? Reignier. Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth, To be the princely bride of such a lord; Upon condition I may quietly Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou, Free from oppression, or the stroke of war, My daughter shall be Henry's if he please. Suffolk. That is her ransome, I deliver her; And those two counties, I will undertake, Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy. Reignier. And I again,—in Henry's royal name, As deputy unto that gracious king, Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith. Suffolk. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks, Because this is in traffick of a king: And yet, methinks, I could be well content To be mine own attorney in this case. [Aside. Til over then to England with this news, And make this marriage to be solemnized; So, farewell, Reignier! Set this diamond safe In golden palaces, as it becomes. Reignier. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian prince, king Henry, were he here. Margaret. Farewell, my lord! Good wishes, praise, and prayers, Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [Going. 6

Flay the hypocrite.

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Suffolk. Farewell, sweet madam J But hark you, Margaret; No princely commendations to my king? Margaret. Such commendations as become a maid, A. virgin, and his servant, say to him. Suffolk. Words sweetly placed, and modestly directed. But, madam, I must trouble you again,— No loving token to his majesty? Margaret. Yes, my good lord; a pure unspotted heart, Never yet taint with love, I send the king. Suffolk. And this withal. [Kisses her. Margaret. That for thyself;—I will not so presume, To send such peevish0 tokens to a king. [Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET. Suffolk. 0, wert thou for myself!—But, Suffolk, stay; Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth; There Minotaurs, and ugly treasons, lurk. Solicit Henry with her wond'rous praise: Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount; Her natural graces that extinguish art.; Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet, Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. [Exit. SCENE

Enter

IV.—Camp of the Duke of

YORK

in

ANJOU.

and Cardinal BEAUFORT, attended. Cardinal. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence With letters of commission from the king. For know, my lords, the states of Christendom, Mov'd with remorse7 of these outrageous broils, Have earnestly implor'd a general peace Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French; And here at hand the dauphin, and his train, Approacheth, to confer about some matter. York. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect? YORK,

6

WARWICK,

Childish.

7

Compassion.

KING HENRY VI.

79

After the slaughter of so many peers, So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, That in this quarrel have been overthrown, And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace? Have we not lost most part of all the towns, By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, Our great progenitors had conquered?— O, Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief The utter loss of all the realm of France. Warwick. Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace, It shall be with such strict and severe covenants, As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. Enter

CHAELES

attended;

ALENCJON, BASTARD, REIGNIER,

and Others.

Charles. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed, That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France, We come to be informed by yourselves What the conditions of that league must be. York. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler choker The hollow passage of my poison'd voice, By sight of these our baleful enemies. Cardinal. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus: That—in regard king Henry gives consent, Of mere compassion, and of lenity, To ease your country of distressful war, And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,— You shall become true liegemen to his crown: And Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear To pay him tribute, and submit thyself, Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him, And still enjoy thy regal dignity. Alengon. Must he be then a shadow of himself? Adorn his temples with a coronet;8 And yet, in substance and authority, Retain but privilege of a private man? This proffer is absurd and reasonless. 3

Coronet is here used for crown.

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Charles. 'Tis known, already, that I am possess d With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverenced for their lawful king: Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd, Detract so much from that prerogative, As to be called but viceroy of the whole? No, lord ambassador; I'll rather keep That which I have, than, coveting for more, Be cast from possibility of alL York. Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret mea Used intercession to obtain a league; And, now the matter grows to compromise, Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison? Either accept the title thou usurp'st, Of benefit9 proceeding from our king, And not of any challenge of desert, Or we will plague thee with incessant wars. Reignier. My lord, you do not well in obstinacy To cavil in the course of this contract: If once it be neglected, ten to one, We shall not find like opportunity, Alengon. To say the truth, it is your policy, To save your subjects from such massacre, And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen By our proceeding in hostility: And therefore take this compact of a truce, Although you break it when your pleasure serves. [Aside to CHARI Warwick. How say'st thou, Charles? shall our c dition stand? Charles. I t shall: Only reserved, you claim no interest In any of our towns of garrison. York. Then swear allegiance to his majesty; As thou art knight never to disobey, Nor be rebellious to the crown of England, Thou nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.— [CHARLES, cmd the rest, give tokens offea 9

" Be content to live as the beneficiary of our king."

KING HENRY VI.

81

So now dismiss your army when you please; Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still, For here we entertain a solemn peace. [Exeunt. SCENE V.—LONDON.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING HENRY, in conference with SUFFOLK; GLOSTER, and 'EXETER, following. King Henry. Your wond'rous rare description, noble earl, Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me: Her virtues, graced with external gifts, Do breed love's settled passions in my heart: And like as rigour in tempestuous gusts Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide; So am I driven, by breath of her renown, Either to suffer shipwreck, or arrive Where I may have fruition of her love. Suffolk. Tush! my good lord! this superficial tale Is but a preface of her worthy praise: The chief perfections of that lovely dame, (Had I sufficient skill to utter them,) Would make a volume of enticing lines, Able to ravish any dull conceit, And, which is more, she is not so divine, So full replete with choice of all delights, But, with as humble lowliness of mind, She is content to be at your command; Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents, To love and honour Henry as her lord. King Henry. And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume. Therefore, my lord protector, give consent, That Margaret may be England's royal queen. Gloster. So should I give consent to flatter sin. You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd Unto another lady of esteem; How shall we then dispense with that contract, And not deface your honour with reproach? Suffolk. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths; VOL. IV.

G

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PIKST PART OF

Or one, that, at a triumph 1 having vow'd To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists By reason of his adversary's odds: A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds, And therefore may be broke without offence. Gloster. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than that? Her father is no better than an earl, Although in glorious titles he excel. Suffolk. Yes, my good lord, her father is a king, The king of Naples, and Jerusalem; And of such great authority in France, As his alliance will confirm our peace, And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance. Gloster. And so the earl of Armagnac may do, Because he is near kinsman unto Charles. Exeter. Beside, his wealth doth warrant liberal dower; While Reignier sooner will receive, than give. Suffolk. A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your king, That he should be so abject, base, and poor, To choose for wealth, and not for perfect love. Henry is able to enrich his queen, And not to seek a queen to make him rich: So worthless peasants bargain for their wives, As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse, Marriage is a matter of more worth, Than to be dealt in by attorneyship; Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects, Must be companion of his nuptial bed: And therefore, lords, since he affects her most, It most of all these reasons bindeth us, In our opinions she should be preferred. For what is wedlock forced, but a hell, An age of discord and continual strife? Whereas the contrary bringeth forth bliss, And is a pattern of celestial peace. Whom should we match with Henry, being a king, 1

A triumph then signified a public exhibition; such as a mask, or revel.

KING HENRY VI.

83

But Margaret, that is daughter to a king? Her peerless feature, joined with her birth, Approves her fit for none, but for a king; Her valiant courage, and undaunted spirit, (More than in women commonly is seen,) Will answer our hope in issue of a king; For Henry, son unto a conqueror, Is likely to beget more conquerors, If with a lady of so high resolve, As is fair Margaret, he be link'd in love. Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me, That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she. King Henry. Whether it be through force of your report, My noble lord of Suffolk, or for that My tender youth was never yet attaint With any passion of inflaming love, I cannot tell; but this I am assur'd, I feel such sharp dissension in my breast, Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear, As I am sick with working of my thoughts. Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to France; Agree to any covenants; and procure That lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd King Henry's faithful and anointed queen: For your expenses and sufficient charge, Among the people gather up a tenth. Begone, I say; for, till you do return, I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.— And you, good uncle, banish all offence: If you do censure2 me by what you were, Not what you are, I know it will excuse This sudden execution of my will. And so conduct me, where from company, I may revolve and ruminate my grief. [Exit Gloster. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. [Exeunt GLOSTER and EXETER. 2

Judge.

84

FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI.

Suffolk. Thus Suffolk hath prevaiTd: and thus he goes, As did the youthful Paris once to Greece; With hope to find the like event in love, But prosper better than the Trojan did. Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king; But I will rule both her, the king, and realm. [Eodt.

SECOND PAET OF

KING HENRY VI.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KING HENRY THE SIXTH. HUMPHREY, Duke ofGloster,

his Uncle. CARDINAL BEAUFORT, Bishop of Winchester, great Uncle to the King. RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York. EDWARD AND RICHARD, his Sons. DUKE OF SOMERSET, . DUKE OF SUFFOLK, DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, LORD CLIFFORD, YOUNG CLIFFORD, his Son,

of the King's Party.

LORD SCALES, Governor of the Tower. LORD S A Y . SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD, A N D HIS BROTHER. SIR JOHN STANLEY. A SEA-CAPTAIN, MASTER, A N D MASTER'S-MATE, AND WALTER WHITMORE. Two GENTLEMEN, Prisoners with Suffolk. A HERALD. VAUX. HUME AND SOUTHWELL, two Piiests. BOLINGBROKE, a Conjurer. A SPIRIT raised by him. THOMAS HORNER, an Armourer. PETER, his Man. CLERK OF CHATHAM. MAYOR OF ST. ALBAN'S.

SIMPCOX, an Impostor. Two MURDERERS. JACK CADE, a Rebel. GEORGE, JOHN, DICK, SMITH the Weaver, MICHAEL, &n.

his -Followers. a Kentish Gentleman.

ALEXANDER IDEN,

MARGARET, Queen to King Henry. ELEANOR, Duchess of Gloster. MARGERY JOURDAIN, a Witch. W I F E TO SIMPCOX.

Lords, Ladies, and Attendants; Petitioners, Aldermen, a Beadle, Sheriff, and Officers, Citizens, Prentices, Falconers, Guards, Soldiers, Messengers, &c. SCENE—

Dispersedly in various Parts of England.

SECOND PAET OF

KING HENRY VI.

ACT L A Boom of State in the Palace. Flourish of Trumpets; then Hautboys. Enter, on one side, KING HENRY, DUKE OF GLOSTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and CARDINAL BEAUFORT; on the other, SCENE I.—LONDON.

QUEEN MARGARET, led in by SUFFOLK ; YORK, SOMERSET, BUCKINGHAM, and Other-s, following.

Suffolk. As by your high imperial majesty I had in charge, at my depart for France, As procurator to your excellence, To marry princess Margaret for your grace; So in the famous ancient city, Tours,— In presence of the kings of France and Sicil, The dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretaigne, Alen^on, Seven earls, twelve barons, twenty reverend bishops,— I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd : And humbly now upon my bended knee, In sight of England, and her lordly peers, Deliver up my title in the queen To your most gracious hands, that are the substance Of that great shadow I did represent; The happiest gift that ever marquess gave, The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd. King Henry. Suffolk, arise.—Welcome, queen Margaret :

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I can express no kinder sign of love, Than this kind kiss.—O Lord, that lends me life, Lerd me a heart replete with thankfulness! For thou hast given me, in this beauteous face, A world of earthly blessings to my soul, If sympathy of love unite our thoughts. Queen Margaret. Great king of England, and my gracious lord; The mutual conference that my mind hath had— By day, by night, waking, and in my dreams; In courtly company, or at my beads,— With you, mine alder-liefest* sovereign, Makes me the bolder to salute my king With ruder terms; such as my wit affords, And over-joy of heart doth minister. King Henry. Her sight did ravish: but her grace in speech, Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty, Makes me, from wondering, fall to weeping joys, Such is the fulness of my heart's content.— Lords with one cheerful voice welcome my love. All. Long live queen Margaret, England's happiness! Queen Margaret. We thank you all, [Flourish. Suffolk. My lord protector, so it please your grace, Here are the articles of contracted peace, Between our sovereign and the French king Charles, For eighteen months concluded by consent. Gloster. [Reads.] Imprimis, It is agreed, between the French king, Charles, and William de la Poole, marquess of Suffolk, ambassador for Henry king of England,— that the said Henry shall espouse the lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier king of Naples, Sicilza, and Jerusalem; and crown Jier queen of England, ere the thirtieth of May next ensuing. Item,— That tJie duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine, shall be released and delivered to the king her father King Henry. Uncle, how now? Gloster. Pardon me, gracious lord 1

Beloved above all things.

KING HENRY VI.

89

Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart, And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further. King Henry. Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on. Cardinal. Item,—It is further agreed between them,— that the duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released cmd delivered over to the king her father; and she sent over of the Mng of England's own proper cost and charges, wxthrout having dowry. King Henry. They please us well.—Lord marquess kneel down; "We here create thee the first duke of Suffolk, And girt thee with the sword.— Cousin of York, we here discharge your grace From being regent in the parts of France, Till term of eighteen months be full expired.— Thanks, uncle Winchester, Gloster, York, and Buckingham, Somerset, Salisbury, and Warwick j We thank you all for this great favour done, In entertainment to my princely queen. Come, let us in, and with all speed provide To see her coronation be perform'd. [Exeunt KING, QUEEN, and SUFFOLK. Gloster. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state, To you duke Humphrey must unload his grief, Your grief, the common grief of all the land. What! did my brother Henry spend his youth, His valour, coin, and people in the wars? Did he so often lodge in open field, In winter's cold, and summer's parching heat, To conquer France, his true inheritance? And did my brother Bedford toil his wits, To keep by policy what Henry got? Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham, Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick, Keceiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy? Or hath my uncle Beaufort, and myself, With all the learned council of the realm, Studied so long, sat in the council-house,

90

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Early and late, debating to and fro How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe? And hath his highness in his infancy Been crown'd in Paris, in despite of foes? And shall these labours, and these honours, die? Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance, Your deeds of war, and all our counsel, die? 0 peers of England, shameful is this league! Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame : Blotting your names from books of memory: Razing the characters of your renown; Defacing monuments of conquer'd France; Undoing all, as all had never been! Cardinal. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse? This peroration with such circumstance?2 For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still. Gloster. Ay, uncle, we will keep it, if we can; But now it is impossible we should: Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast, Hath given the duchies of Anjou and Maine, Unto the poor king fteignier, whose large style Agrees not with the leanness of his purse. Salisbury. Now, by the death of him that died for all, These counties were the keys of Normandy:— But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son? Warwick. For grief, that they are past recovery: For, were there hope to conquer them again, My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears. Anjou and Maine, myself did win them both; Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer: And are the cities, that I got with wounds, Delivered up again with peaceful words? York. For Suffolk's duke—may he be suffocate, That dims the honour of this warlike isle! France should have torn and rent my very heart, Before I would have yielded to this league. 1 never read but England's kings have had 2

This speech, crowded with so many circumstances of aggravation.

KING HENRY VI.

91

Large sums of gold, and dowries, with their wives: And our king Henry gives away his own, To match with her that brings no vantages. Gloster. A proper jest, and never heard before, That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth, For cost and charges in transporting her! She should have staid in France, and starv'd in France, Before Cardinal. My lord of Gloster, now you grow too hot; It was the pleasure of my lord the king. Gloster. My lord of Winchester, I know your mind; 'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike, But 'tis my presence that doth trouble you. Rancour will out: Proud prelate, in thy face I see thy fury: if I longer stay, We shall begin our ancient bickerings.3— Lordings farewell; and say, when I am gone, I prophesied—France will be lost ere long. [Exit. Cardinal. So, there goes our protector in a rage. 'Tis known to you, he is mine enemy: Nay, more, an enemy unto you all; And no great friend, I fear me, to the king. Consider, lords, he is the next of blood, And heir apparent to the English crown; Had Henry got an empire by his marriage, And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west, There's reason he should be displeas'd at it. Look to it, lords! let not his smoothing words Bewitch your hearts; be wise, and circumspect. What though the common people favour him, Calling him—Humphrey, the good duke of Gloster; Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice— May heaven preserve the good duke Humphrey ! I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss, He will be found a dangerous protector. Buckingham. Why should he then protect our sove^ reign, He being of age to govern of himself? 3

Skirmishings.

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SECOND PART OF

Cousin of Somerset, join you with me, And all together—with the duke of Suffolk,— We'll quickly hoise duke Humphrey from his seat. Cardinal. This weighty business will not brook delay; I'll to the duke of Suffolk presently. [Exit Somerset. Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride, And greatness of his place, be grief to us, Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal; His insolence is more intolerable Than all princes in the land beside; If Gloster be displac'd, he'll be protector. Buckingham. Or thou, or I, Somerset, will be protector, Despite duke Humphrey, or the cardinal. [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET. Salisbury. Pride went before, ambition follows him. While these do labour for their own preferment, Behoves it us to labour for the realm. I never saw but Humphrey duke of Gloster Did bear him like a noble gentleman. Oft have I seen the haughty cardinal— More like a soldier, than a man o' the church, As stout, and proud, as he were lord of all,— Swear like a ruffian, and demean himself Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.— Warwick, my son, the comfort of my age! Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy house-keeping, Hath won the greatest favour of the commons, Excepting none but good duke Humphrey.— And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland, In bringing them to civil discipline; Thy late exploits, done in the heart of France, When thou wert regent for our sovereign, Have made thee fear'd, and honour'd, of the people :— Join we together, for the public good; In what we can to bridle and suppress The pride of Suffolk, and the cardinal,

KING HENRY VL

93

With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition; And, as we may, cherish duke Humphrey's deeds, While they do tend the prophet of the land. Warwick. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land, And common profit of his country! York. And so says York, for he hath greatest cause. Salisbury. Then let's make haste away, and look unto the main. [Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY. York. Anjou and Maine are given to the French; Paris iis lost; the state of Normandy Stands on a tickle 4 point, now they are gone: Suffolk concluded on the articles; The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd, To change two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter. I cannot blame them all; What is't to them? 'Tis thine they give away, and not their own. Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage, And purchase friends, and give to courtezans, Still revelling, like lords, till all be gone: While as the silly owner of the goods Weeps over them, and wrings his hapless hands, And shakes his head, and trembling stands aloof, While all is shar'd, and all is borne away; Ready to starve, and dare not touch his own. So York must sit, and fret, and bite his tongue, While his own lands are bargain'd for, and sold. Methinks, the realms of England, France, and Ireland, Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood, As did the fatal brand Althea burn'd, Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.5 Anjou and Maine, both given unto the French! Cold news for me; for I had hope of France, Even as I have of fertile England's soil. A day will come, when York shall claim his own; 4

For ticklish. Meleager; whose life was to continue only so long as a certain firebrand should last. His mother, Althea, having thrown it into the fire, he expired in torment, 5

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SECOND PART OF

And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts, And make a show of love to proud duke Humphrey, And, when I spy advantage, claim the crown, For that's the golden mark I seek to hit: Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right, Nor hold his scepter in his childish fist, Nor wear the diadem upon his head, Whose church-like humours fit not for a crown. Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve: Watch thou, and wake, when others be asleep, To pry into the secrets of the state; Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love, With his new bride, and England's dear-bought queen, And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars: Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose, With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd; And in my standard bear the arms of York, To grapple with the house of Lancaster; And, force perforce, I'll make him yield the crown, Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. [Exit. II.—A Room in the DUKE OF GLOSTER'S House. Enter GLOSTER and the DUCHESS. Duchess. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn, Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load? Why doth the great duke Humphrey knit his brows, As frowning at the favours of the world? Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth, Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight? What seest thou there? king Henry's diadem, Enchas'd with all the honours of the world? If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face, Until thy head be circled with the same. Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold:— What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine: And having both together heav'd it up, SCENE

KING HENRY VI.

95

We'll both together lift our heads to heaven; And never more abase our sight so low, As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground. Gloster. 0 Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord, Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts: And may that thought, when I imagine ill Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry, Be my last breathing in this mortal world! My troublous dream this night doth make me sad. Duchess. What dream'd my lord? tell me, and I'll requite it With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream. Gloster. Methought, this staff, mine office-badge in court, Was broke in twain, by whom, I have forgot, But, as I think, it was by the cardinal; And on the pieces of the broken wand Were plac'd the heads of Edmond duke of Somerset, And William de la Poole first duke of Suffolk. This was my dream; what it doth bode, Heaven knows. Duchess. Tut, this was nothing but an argument, That he that breaks a stick of Gloster's grove, Shall lose his head for his presumption. But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet duke: Methought, I sat in seat of majesty, In the cathedral church of Westminster, And in that chair where kings and queens are crown'd; Where Henry, and dame Margaret, kneel'd to me, And on my head did set the diadem. Gloster. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright: Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor! Art thou not second woman in the realm; And the protector's wife, belov'd of him? Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command, Above the reach or compass of thy thought ? And wilt thou still be hammering treachery, To tumble down thy husband, and thyself, From top of honour to disgrace's feet? Away from me, and let me hear no more.

96

SECOND PAKT OP

Duchess. What, what, my lord! are you so choleric With Eleanor for telling but her dream ? Next time, I'll keep my dreams unto myself, And not be check'd. Gloster. Nay, be not angry, I am pleas'd again. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. My lord protector, 'tis his highness' pleasure, You do prepare to ride unto Saint Alban's, Whereas 6 the king and queen do mean to hawk. Gloster. I go.—Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us? Duchess. Yes, good my lord, 111 follow presently. [Eoceunt GLOSTER and MESSENGER. Follow I must, I cannot go before, While Gloster bears this base and humble mind. Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood, I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks, And smooth my way upon their headless necks : And, being a woman, I would not be slack To play my part in fortune's pageant. Where are you there? sir John! 7 nay, fear not, man, We are alone; here's none but thee, and L Enter HUME. Hume. May Heaven preserve your royal majesty! DucJiess. What say'st thou, majesty! I am but grace. Hume. But, by the grace of Heaven, and Hume's advice, Your grace's title shall be multiplied. DucJiess. What say'st thou, man? hast thou as yet conferr'd With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch; And Eoger Bolingbroke, the conjurer? And will they undertake to do me good?. Hume. This they have promised,—to show your highness A spirit rais'd from depth of under ground, 6

Where.

7

A title frequently bestowed on the clergy.

KING HENRY VI.

97

That shall make answer to such questions, As by your grace shall be propounded him. Duchess. I t is enough; I'll think upon the questions: When from Saint Alban's we do make return, We'll see these things effected to the full. Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man, With thy confederates in this weighty cause. [JEant DUCHESS. Hume. Hume must make merry with the duchess' gold; Marry, and shalL But how now, sir John Hume? Seal up your lips, and give no words but—mum 1 The business asketh silent secrecy. Dame Eleanor gives gold, to bring the witch: Gold cannot come amiss, were she a devil. Yet have I gold, flies from another coast: I dare not say from the rich cardinal, And from the great and new-made duke of Suffolk; Yet I do find it so: for, to be plain, They, knowing Eleanor's aspiring humour, Have hired me to undermine the duchess, And buz these conjurations in her brain. They say, a crafty knave does need no broker; Yet am I Suffolk and the cardinal's broker. Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near To call them both a pair of crafty knaves. Well, so it stands: And thus, I fear, at last, Hume's knavery will be the duchess' wreck; And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall: Sort8 how it will, I shall have gold for all. [Exit III.—A Boom in the Palace. Enter PETER, cmd Others, with Petitions. 1 Petitioner. My masters, let's stand close; my lord protector will come this way by-and-by, and then we may deliver our supplications in the quill.9 SCENE

8

Happen. With great exactness and observance of form. VOL. IV. H 9

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SECOND PART OP

2 Petitioner. Marry, the lord protect him, for he's a good man! Heaven bless him! Enter

SUFFOLK,

and

QUEEN MARGARET.

1 Petitioner. Here 'a comes, methinks, and the queen with him: I'll be the first, sure* 2 Petitioner. Come back, fool; this is the duke of Suffolk, and not my lord protector. Suffolk. How now, fellow ? wouldst anything with me? 1 Petitioner. I pray my lord, pardon me! I tookye for my lord protector. Queen Margaret. [Reading the superscription.] To my lord protector 1 are your supplications to his lordship] Let me see them: What is thine? 1 Petitioner., Mine is, an't please your grace, against John Goodman, my lord cardinal's man, for keeping my house, and lands, and wife and all, from me. Suffolk. Thy wife too? that is some wrong, indeed.—• What's yours?—What's here! [Reads.] Against the duke of Suffolk, for enclosing the commons of Mdford.—How now, sir knave? 2 Petitioner. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our whole township. Peter. [Presenting his Petition.] Against my master, Thomas Horner, for saying, That the duke of York was rightful heir to the crown. Queen Margaret. What say'st thou? Did the duke of York say, he was rightful heir to the crown? Peter. That my master was? No, forsooth: my master said, That he was; and that the king was an usurper. Suffolk. Who is there? [Enter Servants.]—Take this fellow in, and send for his master with a pursuivant presently:—we'll hear more of your matter before the [Exeunt SERVANTS, with PETEK. k*ngQueen Margcvret. And as for you, that love to be protected Under the wings of our protector's grace,

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99

Begin your suits anew, and sue to him. [Tears the Petition. l Away, base cullions! Suffolk, let them go. AIL Come, let's be gone. \Exeunt PETITIONERS. Queen Margaret. My lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise, Is this the fashion in the court of England? Is this the government of Britain's isle, And this the royalty of Albion's king? What, shall king Henry be a pupil still, Under the surly Gloster's governance % Am I a queen in title and in style, And must be made a subject to a duke? I tell thee, Poole, when in the city Tours Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love, And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France; I thought king Henry had resembled thee, In courage, courtship, and proportion: But all his mind is bent to holiness, To number Ave-Maries on his beads; His champions are—the prophets and apostles: His weapons, holy saws2 of sacred writ; His study in his tilt-yard, and his loves Axe brazen images of canonized saints. I would, the college of cardinals Would choose him pope, and carry him to Rome, And set the triple crown upon his head; That were a state fit for his holiness. Suffolk Madam, be patient: as I was cause Your highness came to England, so will I In England work your grace's full content. Queen Margaret. Beside the haughty protector, have we Beaufort, The imperious churchman; Somerset, Buckingham, And grumbling York: and not the least of these But can do more in England than the king. Suffolk. And he of these that can do most of all, 1

Scoundrels.

2

Sayings.

100

SECOND PART OF

Cannot do more in England than the Nevils: Salisbury, and Warwick, are no simple peers. Queen Mwrgaret. Not all these lords do vex me half so much, As that proud dame, the lord protector s wife. She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies, More like an empress than duke Humphrey's wife; Strangers in court do take her for the queen: She bears a duke's revenues on her back, And in her heart she scorns her poverty: Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her? She vaunted 'mongst her minions t' other day, The very train of her worst wearing-gown Was better worth than all my father's lands, Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter. Suffolk. Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her; And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds, That she will light to listen to the lays, And never mount to trouble you again. So, let her rest: and, madam, list to me; For I am bold to counsel you in this. Although we fancy not the cardinal, Yet must we join with him, and with the lords, Till we have brought duke Humphrey in disgrace. As for the duke of York,—this late complaint3 Will make but little for his benefit: So, one by one, we'll weed them all at last, And you yourself shall steer the happy helm. HENRY, YORK, and SOMERSET, conversing DUKE and DUCHESS OF GLOSTER, CARDINAL BEAUFORT, BUCKINGHAM, SALISBURY, and WARWICK.

Enter KING with him;

King Henry. For my part, noble lords, I care not which; Or Somerset, or York, all's one to me. York If York have ill demean'd himself in France, Then let him be denay'd4 the regentship. 3 4

i. e. The complaint of Peter, the armourer's man, against his master. Denied.

KING HENRY VI.

101

Somerset. If Somerset be unworthy of the place, Let York be regent, I will yield to him. Warwick. Whether your grace be worthy, yea, or no, Dispute not that: York is the worthier. Cardinal. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak. Warwick. The cardinal's not my better in the field. Buckingham. All in this presence, are thy betters, Warwick. Warwick. Warwick may live to be the best of all. Salisbury. Peace, son; and show some reason, Buckingham, Why Somerset should be preferred in this. Queen Margaret Because the king, forsooth, will have it so. Gloster. Madam, the king is old enough himself To give his censure;5 these are no woman's matters. Queen Margaret. If he be old enough, what needs your grace To be protector of his excellence? Gloster. Madam, I am protector of the realm; And, at his pleasure, will resign my place. Suffolk. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence. Since thou wert king, (as who is king but thou?) The commonwealth hath daily run to wreck: The dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas; And all the peers and nobles of the realm Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty. Cardinal. The commons hast thou rack'd; the clergy's bags Are lank and lean with thy extortions. Somerset. Thy sumptuous buildings, and thy wife's attire, Have cost a mass of public treasury. Buckingham. Thy cruelty in execution, Upon offenders, hath exceeded law, And left thee to the mercy of the law. Queen Margaret Thy sale of offices, and towns in Erance,— 5

Censure here means simply judgment, or opinion.

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SECOND PART OP

If they were known, as the suspect is great,— Would make thee quickly hop without thy head, [Exit GLOSTER. The QUEEN drops her fan. Give me my fan: what, minion? can you not? [Gives tlie DUCHESS a box on the ear. I cry you mercy, madam; Was it you? Duchess. Was't I ? yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman! King Henry. Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas against her will. Duchess. Against her will? Good king, look to 't intime; She'll hamper thee, and dandle thee like a baby: But shall not strike dame Eleanor unreveng'd. [Exit DUCHESS. Buckingham. Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor, And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds: She's tickled now; her fume can need no spurs, She'll gallop fast enough to her destruction. [Exit BUCKINGHAM. Re-enter Gloster. Gloster. Now, lords, my choler being over-blown, With walking once about the quadrangle, I come to talk of commonwealth affairs. As for your spiteful false objections, Prove them, and I lie open to the law: But Heaven in mercy so deal with my soul, As I in duty love my king and country! But, to the matter that we have in hand:— I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man To be your regent in the realm of France. Suffolk. Before we make election, give me leave To show some reason, of no little force, That York is most unmeet of any man. York. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet. First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride: Next, if I be appointed for the place, My lord of Somerset will keep me here, Without discharge, money, or furniture,

KING HENRY VI.

103

Till France be won into the dauphin's hands. Last time, I danc'd attendance on his will, Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost. Warwick. That I can witness, and a fouler fact Did never traitor in the land commit. Suffolk. Peace, head-strong Warwick! Warwick. Image of pride, why should I hold my peace ? Enter

SERVANTS

of

SUFFOLK, bringing PETER.

in

HORNER

and

Suffolk. Because here is a man accus'd of treason: Pray heaven the duke of York excuse himself! York. Doth any man accuse York for a traitor? King Henry. What mean'st thou, Suffolk? tell me: What are these? Suffolk. Please it your majesty, this is the man That doth accuse his master of high treason : His words were these;—that Richard, duke of York, Was rightful heir unto the English crown; And that your majesty was an usurper. King Henry. Say, man, were these thy words? Horner. An't shall please your majesty, I never said nor thought any such matter: I am falsely accused by the villain. Peter. By these ten bones, my lords, [Holding up his hands,] he did speak them to me in the garret one night, as we were scouring my lord of York's armour. York. Base dunghill villain, and mechanical, I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech:— I do beseech your royal majesty, Let him have all the rigour of the law. Horner. Alas, my lord, hang me, if ever I spake the words: My accuser is my prentice: and when I did correct him for his fault the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with me: I have good witness of this; therefore, 1 beseech your majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain's accusation. King Henry. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law ? Gloster. This doom, my lord, if I may judge:—

104

SECOND PAKT OF

Let Somerset be regent o'er the French, Because in York this breeds suspicion: And let these have a day appointed them For single combat in convenient place; For he hath witness of his servant's malice: This is the law, and this duke Humphrey's doom. King Henry. Then be it so. My lord of Somerset, We make your grace lord regent o'er the French. Somerset. I humbly thank your royal majesty. Homer. And I accept the combat willingly. Peter. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for heaven's sake, pity my case! the spite of man prevaileth against me. I shall never be able to fight a blow: O my heart! Gloster. Sirrah, or you must fight, or else be hang'd. King Henry. Away with them to prison, and the clay Of combat shall be the last of the next month.— Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. [Exeunt. SCENE

Enter

IV.—Tlie

DUKE O/GLOSTER!S

Garden.

MARGERY JOURDAIN, HUME, SOUTHWELL,

and

BOLINGBROKE.

Hume. Come, my masters; the duchess, I tell you, expects performance of your promises, Bolingbrohe. Master Hume, we are therefore provided: will your ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?6 Hume. Ay; What else? fear you not her courage? Bolingbrohe. I have heard her reported to be a woman of an invincible spirit: But it shall be convenient, master Hume, that you be by her aloft, while we be busy below ; and so, I pray you, go, and leave us. [Exit HUME.] Mother Jourdain, be you prostrate, and grovel on the earth:—John Southwell, read you; and let us to our work. Enter DUCHESS, above. Duchess. Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this geer; 7 the sooner the better. G

By exorcise, Shakspeare invariably means to raise spirits, and not to lay them. 7 Matter or business.

KING HENRY VI.

105

Bolingbroke. Patience, good lady; wizards know their times: Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night, The time of night, when Troy was set on fire; The time when screech-owls cry, and ban-dogs8 howl, And spirits walk, and ghosts break up their graves, That time best fits the work we have in hand. Madam, sit you, and fear not; whom we raise, We will make fast within a hallow'd verge. [Here they perform the ceremonies appertaining, and make the circle; BOLINGBROKE, or SOUTHWELL, reads, Conjuro te, &c. It thunders and lightens terribly; then the SPIRIT riseth.~\ Spirit. Adsum. Margery Jourdain. Asmath, answer that I shall ask; For, till thou speak, thou shalt not pass from hence. Spirit. Ask what thou wilt:—That I had said and done! Bolingbroke. First, of the King. What shall of him become ? [Reading out of a paper. Spirit. The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose > But him outlive, and die a violent death. [As the SPIRIT speaks, SOUTHWELL writes the answer. Bolingbroke. What fate awaits the duke of Suffolk? Spirit By water shall he die, and take his end. Bolingbroke. What shall befall the duke of Somerset? Spirit Let him shun castles; Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, Than where castles mounted stand. Have done! for more I hardly can endure. Bolingbroke. False fiend, avoid! [Thunder and lightning. SPIRIT descends. Enter

and BUCKINGHAM, hastily, with their Guards, and Others. York. Lay hands upon these traitors, and their trash. Beldame, I think, we watch'd you at an inch.— YORK

8

Watch-dogs.

106

SECOND PART OF

What, madam, are you there? the king and common weal Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains: My lord protector will, I doubt it not, See you well guerdon'd 9 for these good deserts. Duchess. Not half so bad as thine to England's long, Injurious duke; that threat'st where is no cause. Buckingham. True, madam, none at all. What call you this? [Showing her the papers. Away with them; let them be clapp'd up close. And kept asunder:—You, madam, shall with us:— Stafford, take her to thee.— [Exit DUCHESS from above. We'll see your trinkets here all forth-coming; All.—Away! [Exeunt Guards, with SOUTHWELL, BOLINGBROKE, &C.

York. Lord Buckingham, methinks, you watch'd her well: A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon! Now pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ. What have we here? [Meads. The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose: But him outlive, and die a violent death'. Why, this is just, Aio te, JEacida, Romanos vincere posse. Well, to the rest: Tell me, what fate awaits the duke of Suffolk? By water shall he die, and take his end.— What shall betide the duke of Somerset? Let him shun castles; Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains, Than where castles mounted stand. Come, come, my lords; These oracles are hardily attain'd, And hardly understood. The king is now in progress towards Saint Alban's, With him, the husband of this lovely lady: 9

Rewarded.

KING HENRY VI.

107

Thither go these news, as fast as liorse can carry them; A sorry breakfast for my lord protector. Buckingham. Your grace shall give me leave, my lord of York, To he the post, in hope of his reward. York. At your pleasure, my good lord.—Who's within there, ho! Enter a SERVANT. Invite my lords of Salisbury, and Warwick, To sup with me to-morrow night.—Away!

[Exeunt.

ACT II. SCENE I.—SAINT ALBAN'S.

Enter

KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, GLOSTER, CARDINAL, and SUFFOLK, with FALCONERS hollaing.

Queen Margaret. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,1 I saw not better sport these seven years' day: Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high; And, ten to one, old Joan had not gone out. King Henry. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made, And what a pitch she flew above the rest!— To see how God in all his creatures works! Yea, man and birds, are fain2 of climbing high. Suffolk. No marvel, an it like your majesty, My lord protector's hawks do tower so well; They know their master loves to be aloft, And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch. Gloster. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind That mounts no higher than a bird can soar. Cardinal. I thought as much; he'd be above the clouds. 1

The falconer's term for hawking at water-fowl.

2

Fond.

108

SECOND PART OF

Gloster. Ay, my lord cardinal; How think you by that? Were it not good, your grace could fly to heaven? King Henry. The treasury of everlasting joy! Cardinal. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart; Pernicious protector, dangerous peer, That smooth'st it so with king and commonweal! Gloster. What, cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory ? Tantcene animis ccelestibus irce ? Churchmen so hot? good uncle, hide such malice; With such holiness can you do it ? Suffolk. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes So good a quarrel, and so bad a peer. Gloster. As who, my lord? Suffolk. Why, as you, my lord; An't like your lordly lord-protectorship. Gloster. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence. Queen Margaret. And thy ambition, Gloster. King Henry. I pr'ythee, peace, Good queen; and whet not on these furious peers, For blessed are the peacemakers on earth. Cardinal. Let me be blessed for the peace I make, Against this proud protector with my sword! Gloster. 'Faith, holy uncle, 'would 'twere come to that! [Aside to the CARDINAL. Cardinal. Marry, when thou dar'st. [Aside. Gloster. Make up no factious numbers for the matter. In thine own person answer thy abuse. [Aside. Cardinal. Ay, where thou dar'st not peep: an if thou dar'st, This evening on the east side of the grove. [Aside. King Henry. How now, my lords ? Cardinal. Believe me, cousin Gloster, Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly, We had had more sport—Come with thy two-hand sword. [Aside to GLOSTER.

KING HENRY VL

]09

Gloster. True, uncle. Cardinal. Are youadvis'd ?—the cast side of the grove? Gloster. Cardinal, I am with you. [Aside. King Henri/. Why, how now, uncle Gloster? Gloster. Talking of hawking; nothing else, iny lord.— King Henry. The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords. How irksome is this musick to my heart! "When such strings jar, what hope of harmony? I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife. Enter an

of SAINT ALBAN'S, crying9 A Miracle! Gloster. "What means this noise? Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim? Inhabitant. A miracle! a miracle! Suffolk. Come to the king, and tell him what miracle. Inhabitant. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Alban's shrine, Within this half hour, hath received his sight; A man, that ne'er saw in his life before. King Henry. Now, God be prais'd! that to believing souls Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair! INHABITANT

Enter the MAYOK of SAINT ALBAN'S, and his brethren; and SIMPCOX, borne between two Persons in a Chair; his W I F E , and a great Multitude fulloiving. Cardinal. Here come the townsmen on procession, To present your highness with the man. King Henry. Greafc is his comfort in this earthly vale, Although by his sight his sin be multiplied. Gloster. Stand by, my masters, bring him near the king, His highness' pleasure is to talk with him. King Henry. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance, That we for thee may glorify the Lord. What, hast thou been long blind, and now restored?

1]0

SECOND PART OF

Simpcox. Born blind, an't please your grace. Wife. Ay, indeed was he. Suffolk. What woman is this? Wife. His wife, an t like your worship. Gloster. Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better told. King Henry. Where wert thou born? Simpcox. At Berwick in the north, an't like your grace. King Henry. Poor soul! God's goodness hath been great to thee : Let never day nor night unhallow'd pass, But still remember what the Lord hath done. Queen Margaret. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance, Or of devotion, to this holy shrine? Simpcox. God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd A hundred times, and oft'ner, in my sleep By good saint Alban; who said,—Simpcox come; Come, offer at my shrine, and I vjill help thee. Wife. Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft Myself have heard a voice to call him so. Cardinal. What, art thou lame? Simpcox. Ay, God Almighty help me! Suffolk. How cam'st thou so? Simpcox. A fall off a tree. Wife. A plum-tree, master. Gloster. How long hast thou been blind? Simpcox. 0, born so, master. Gloster. What, and wouldst climb a tree? Simpcox. But that in all my life, when I was a youth. Wife. Too true; and bought his climbing very dear. Gloster. 'Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that wouldst venture so. Simpcox. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons, And made me climb, with danger of my life. Gloster. A subtle knave! but yet it shall not serve.— Let me see thine eyes:—wink now;—now open them:— In my opinion yet thou seest not well.

KING HENRY VI.

Ill

Simpcox. Yes, master, clear as day; I thank God, and saint Alban. Gloster. Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of? Simpcox. Red, master; red as blood. Gloster. Why, that's well said: What colour is my gown of? Simpcox. Black, forsooth; coal-black, as jet. King Henry. Why then, thou know'st what colour jet is of? Suffolk. And yet, I think, jet did he never see. Gloster. But cloaks, and gowns, before this day, a many. Wife. Never, before this day, in all his life. Gloster. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name? Simpcox. Alas, master, I know not. Gloster. What's his name ? Simpcox. I know not. Gloster. Nor his? Simpcox. No, indeed, master. Gloster. What's thine own name? Simpcox. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master. Gloster. Then, Saunder, sit thou there, the lyingest knave In Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, Thou mightst as well have known our names, as thus To name the several colours we do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly To nominate them all's impossible.—— My lords, saint Alban here hath done a miracle; And would ye not think that cunning to be great That could restore this cripple to his legs? Simpcox. O, master, that you could! Gloster. My masters of Saint Alban's have you not beadles in your town, and things called whips? Mayor. Yes, my lord, if it please your grace. Gloster. Then send for one presently. Mayor. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight. [Exit an ATTENDANT.

112

SECOND PART OP

Gloster. Now fetch me a stool hither by-and-by. [A stool brought out.] Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping, leap me over this stool, and run away. Simpcox. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone: You go about to torture me in vain. Re-enter ATTENDANT with the BEADLE. Gloster. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs. Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool. Beadle. I will, my lord.—Come on, sirrah; off with your doublet quickly. Simpcox. Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand. [After the BEADLE hath hit him once, Jie leaps over the stool, and runs away; and the People follow, and cry, A Miracle! King Henry. O God, seest thou this, and bear'st so long? Queen Margaret. It made me laugh to see the villain run. Gloster. Follow the knave; and take this drab away. Wife. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need. Gloster. Let them be whipped through every market town, till they come to Berwick, whence they came. [Exeunt MAYOR, BEADLE, WIFE, &C. Cardinal. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day. Suffolk. True; made the lame to leap, and fly away. Gloster. But you have done more miracles than I ; You made, in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly. Enter BUCKINGHAM. King Henry. What tidings with our cousin Buckingham? Buckinglbam. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold. A sort3 of naughty persons, vilely bent,— Under the countenance and confederacy 3

A company.

KING HENRY VI.

113

Of lady Eleanor, the protector's wife, The ring-leader and head of all this rout,— Have practis'd dangerously against your state, Dealing with witches; and with conjurers: Whom we have apprehended in the fact; liaising up wicked spirits from under ground, Demanding of king Henry's life and death, And other of your highness' privy council, As more at large your grace shall understand. Cardinal And so, my lord protector, by this means Your lady is forthcoming yet at London. This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge; 'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour. [Aside to GLOSTER. Gloster. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart! Sorrow and grief have vanquished all my powers : And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to thee, Or to the meanest groom. King Henry. Alas, what mischiefs work the wicked ones; Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby! Queen Margaret. Gloster, see here the tainture of thy nest; And, look, thyself be faultless, thou were best. Gloster. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal, How I have lov'd my king, and commonweal, And for my wife, I know not how it stands; Sorry I am to hear what I have heard: Noble she is; but if she have forgot Honour, and virtue, and convers'd with such As, like to pitch, defile nobility, I banish her my bed and company; And give her, as a prey, to law and shame, That hath dishonour'd Gloster's honest name. King Henry. Well, for this night, we will repose us here: To-morrow, toward London, back again, To look into this business thoroughly, \OL. IV.

I

114

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And call these foul offenders to their answers; And poise4 the cause in justice' equal scales, Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails. [Flourish. Exeunt of YORK'S Garden. Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, York Now, my good lords of Salisbury and Warwick, Our simple supper ended, give me leave, In this close walk, to satisfy myself, In craving your opinion of my title, Which is infallible to England's crown. Salisbury. My lord, I long to hear it at full. Warwick. Sweet York, begin: and if thy claim be good, The Nevils are thy subjects to command. York Then thus:— Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons: The first, Edward the Black prince, prince of Wales; The second, William of Hatfield; and the third, Lionel, duke of Clarence; next to whom, Was John of Gaunt, the duke of Lancaster: The fifth, was Edmund Langley, duke of York: The sixth, was Thomas of Woodstock, duke of Gloster; "William of Windsor was the seventh, and last. Edward, the Black prince, died before his father; And left behind him Richard, his only son, Who after Edward the Third's death, reign'd as king; Till Henry Bolingbroke, duke of Lancaster, The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt, Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth, Seized on the realm; depos'd the rightful king; Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came, And him to Pomfret: where, as all you know, Harmless Richard was niurder'd traitorously. Warwick Father, the duke hath told the truth; Tims got the house of Lancaster the crown. SCENE II.—LONDON.

The

4

DUKE

Weigh.

KING HENRY VI.

115

York. Which now they hold by force, and not by right; For Richard, the first son's heir being dead, The issue of the next son should have reign'd. Salisbwryk But William of Hatfield died without an heir. York. The third son, duke of Clarence, (from whose line I claim the crown,) had issue—Philippe, a daughter, Who married Edmund Mortimer, earl of March: Edmund had issue—Roger, earl of March; Roger had issue—Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor. Salisbury. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke, As I have read, laid claim unto the crown; And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king, Who kept hiTYi in captivity till he died. But, to the rest. York. His eldest sister, Anne, My mother, being heir unto the crown, Married Richard, earl of Cambridge; who was son To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son. By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir To Roger, earl of March; who was the son Of Edmund Mortimer; who married Philippe, Sole daughter unto Lionel, duke of Clarence: So, if the issue of the elder son Succeed before the younger, I am king. Warwick. What plain proceedings are more plain than this? Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt, The fourth son; York claims it from the third. Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign: It fails not yet: but flourishes in thee, And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.— Then, father Salisbury, kneel we both together; And in this private plot,5 be we the first, That shall salute our rightful sovereign With honour of his birthright to the crown. Both. Long live our sovereign Richard, England's king! 5

Sequestered spot.

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York. We thank you, lords. But I am not your king Till I be crown'd: and that my sword be stain'd With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster. And that's not suddenly to be performed; But with advice, and silent secrecy. Do you, as I do, in these dangerous days, Wink at the duke of Suffolk's insolence, At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition, At Buckingham, and all the crew of them, Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock, That virtuous prince, the good duke Humphrey: 'Tis that they seek; and they in seeking that, Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy. Salisbury. My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full. Warwick. My heart assures me, that the earl of Warwick Shall one day make the duke of York a king. York. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself,— Richard shall live to make the earl of Warwick The greatest man in England, but the king. [Exeunt SCENE

III.—A Hall of Justice.

Trumpets sounded. Enter

KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, GLOSTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, and SALISBURY; the DUCHESS OF GLOSTER, MARGERY JOURDAIN, SOUTHWELL, H U M E , and BOLINGBROKE, under guard.

King Henry. Stand forth, dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloster's wife: I n sight of God, and us your guilt is great; Receive the sentence of the law for sin.— You four, from hence to prison back again; [To JOURDAIN, dec. From thence unto the place of execution : The witch in Smithfield shall be burn'd to ashes, And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.— You, madam, for you are more nobly born, Despoiled of your honour in your life,

KING HENRY VI.

]]7

Shall, after three days' open penance done, Live in your country here, in banishment, With sir John Stanley, in the Isle of Man. Duchess. Welcome his banishment, welcome were my death. Gloster. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath j udged thee; I cannot justify whom the law condemns.— [Exeunt the DUCHESS, and tJie other PRISONERS, guarded. Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief. Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground! I beseech your majesty, give me leave to go; Sorrow would6 solace, and mine age would ease. King Henry. Stay, Humphrey duke of Gloster: ere thou go, Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself Protector be; and God shall be my hope, My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet; And go in p6ace. Humphrey; no less belov'd, Than when thou wert protector to thy king. Queen Margaret. I see no reason why a king of years Should be to be protected like a child. God and king Henry govern England's helm: Give up your staff, sir, and the king his realm. Gloster. My staff?—here, noble Henry, is my staff; As willingly do I the same resign, As e'er thy father Henry made it mine; And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it, As others would ambitiously receive it. Farewell, good king: When I am dead and gone, May honourable peace attend thy throne! [Exit. Queen Margaret. Why, now is Henry king, and Margaret queen; And Humphrey, duke of Gloster, scarce himself, That bears so shrewd a main; two pulls at once,— His lady banish'd, and a limb lopp'd off; 6

Wishes for.

]18

SECOND PART OF

This staff of honour raught: 7 —There let it stand, Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand. Suffolk. Thus droops this lofty pine, and hangs his sprays; Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days. Fork. Lords, let him go.—Please it your majesty, This is the day appointed for the combat; And ready are the appellant and defendant, The armourer and his man, to enter the lists, So please your highness to behold the fight. Queen Margaret. Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried. King Henry. Then let us see the lists and all things fit. Here let them end it, God defend the right! York. I never saw a fellow worse bested,8 Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant, The servant of this armourer, my lords. Enter, on one side, HORNER, and his NEIGHBOURS, drinking to him so much that he is drunk; and he enters bearing his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it; a drum before him: at the other side, PETER, with a drum and a similar staff; accompanied by PRENTICES drinking to him. 1 Neighbour. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of sack; And fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough, 2 Neighbour. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco.9 3 Neighbour. And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour: drink, and fear not your man. Homer. Let it come, i' faith, and I'll pledge you all; And a fig for Peter! 1 Prentice. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid. 2 Prentice. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master; fight for credit of the prentices. 7

Reached.

8

In a worse plight.

9

A sort of sweet wine.

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119

Peter. I thank you all: drink, and pray for me. I pray you; for, I think, I have taken my last draught in this world.—Here, Robin, an if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my hammer—and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O, Lord, bless me; I am never able to deal with my master, he hath learnt so much fence already. Salisbury. Come, leave your drinking, and fall to blows. —Sirrah, what's thy name ? Peter. Peter, forsooth. Salisbury. Peter! what more? Peter. Thump. Salisbury. Thump! then see thou thump thy master well. Horner. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's instigation, to prove him a knave, and myself an honest man: and touching the duke of York,—will take my death, I never meant him any ill, nor the king, nor the queen : And, therefore, Peter, have at thee with a downright blow, as Bevis of Southampton fell upon Ascapart. York. Despatch:—this knave's tongue begins to double. Sound trumpets, alarum to the combatants. [Alarums. They fight, and PETER strikes doivn his MASTER. Homer. Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason. [Dies. York. Take away his weapon:—Fellow, thank the good wine in thy master's way. Peter. O Heaven! have I overcome mine enemies in this presence ? 0 Peter, thou hast prevailed in right! King Henry. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight; For, by his death, we do perceive his guilt: And heaven in justice, hath reveal'd to us The truth and innocence of this poor fellow, Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.— Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward. [Exeunt

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IV.—A Street. Enter GLOSTER and SERVANTS, in mourning Cloaks. Gloster. Thus, sometimes, hath the brightest day a cloud; And after summer, ever more succeeds Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold: So cares and joys abound as seasons fleet.— Sirs, what's o'clock? Servant Ten, my lord. Gloster. Ten is the hour that was appointed me, To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess: Uneath 1 may she endure the flinty streets, To tread them with her tender-feeling feet. Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook The abject people, gazing on thy face, With envious looks, still laughing at thy shame; That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels, When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets* But, soft! I think, she comes; and I'll prepare My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries. SCENE

Enter the DUCHESS OF GLOSTER, in a white sheet, with papers pinnd upon Iier back, her feet bare, and a taper burning in her hand; SIR JOHN STANLEY, a SHERIFF, and OFFICERS.

Servant. So please your grace, we'll take her from the sheriff. Gloster. No, stir not, for your lives; let her pass by. Duchess. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame ? Now thou dost penance too. Look, how they gaze! See, how the giddy multitude do point, And nod their heads, and throw their eyes on thee! Ah, Gloster, hide thee from their hateful looks: And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame, And ban 2 thine enemies, both mine and thine. Gloster. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief 1

Not easily.

2

Curse.

KING HEN11Y VI.

Duchess. Ah, Gloster, teach me to forget myself: For, whilst I think I am thy married wife, And thou a prince, protector of this land, Methinks, I should not thus be led along, Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back; And foliow'd with a rabble, that rejoice To see my tears, and hear my deep-fet3 groans. The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet: And, when I start, the envious people laugh, And bid me be advised how I tread. Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke ? Trow'st thou, that e'er I'll look upon the world; Or count them happy, that enjoy the sun? No; dark shall be my light, and night my day; To think upon my pomp, shall be my hell. Sometime I'll say, I am duke Humphrey's wife; And he a prince, and ruler of the land: Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was, As he stood by, whilst I, his forlorn duchess, Was made a wonder, and a pointing-stock, To every idle rascal follower. But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame; Nor stir at nothing, till the axe of death Hang over thee, as, sure, it shortly will. For Suffolk,—he that can do all in all With her, that hateth thee, and hates us all,— And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest, Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings, And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee : But fear not thou, until thy foot be snar'd, Nor ever seek prevention of thy foes. Gloster. Ah, Nell, forbear; thou aimest all awry; I must offend, before I be attainted: And had I twenty times so many foes, And each of them had twenty times their power, All these could not procure me any scathe,4 So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless. Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach ? 3

Deep-fetched.

4

Harm, mischief.

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Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away, But I in danger for the breach of law. Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell: I pray thee, sort thy heart to patience! These few days' wonder will be quickly worn. Enter a

HERALD.

Herald. I summon your grace to his majesty's parliament, holden at Bury the first of this next month. Gloster. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before! This is close dealing.—Well, I will be there. \Exii HERALD. My Nell, I take my leave:—and, master sheriff, Let not her penance exceed the king's commission. Sheriff. An't please your grace, here my commission stays: And sir John Stanley is appointed now. To take her with him to the Isle of Man. Gloster. Must you, sir John, protect my lady here? Stanley. So am I given in charge, may't please your grace. Gloster. Entreat her not the worse, in that I pray You use her well: the world may laugh again; And I may live to do you kindness, if You do it her. And so, sir John, farewell. Duchess, What, gone, my lord; and bid me not farewell? Gloster. Witness my tears, 1 cannot stay to speak. [Exeunt GLOSTER and SERVANTS. Duchess. Art thou gone too ? All comfort go with thee! For none abides with me: my joy is death; Death, at whose name I oft have been afear'd, Because I wish'd this world's eternity.— Stanley, I pr'ythee, go, and take me hence; I care not whither, for I beg no favour, Only convey me where thou art commanded. Stanley. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man; There to be used according to your state. 6

Conductor.

KING HENRY VI.

123

Duchess. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach: And shall I then be used reproachfully? Stanley. Like to a duchess, and duke Humphrey's lady, According to that state you shall be used. Duchess. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare; Although thou hast been conduct5 of my shame! Sheriff] It is my office, madam, pardon me. Duchess. Ay, ay, farewell, thy office is discharg'd.— Come, Stanley, shall we go? Stanley. Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet, And go we to attire you for our journey. DucJiess. My shame will not be shifted with my sheet; No, it will hang upon my richest robes; And show itself, attire me how I can. Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison. [Exeunt. ACT I I I . SCENE

I.—The Abbey at

BURY.

Enter to tJie Parlinment,

KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, CARDINAL BEAUFORT, SUFFOLK, YORK, BUCKINGHAM, and Others.

King Henry. I muse,6 my lord of Gloster is not come: 'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man, Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now. Queen Margaret. Can you not see? or will you not observe The strangeness of his alter'd countenance? With what a majesty he bears himself; How insolent of late he is become, How proud, peremptory, and unlike himself? We know the time since he was mild and affable? And, if we did but glance a far-off look, Immediately he was upon his knee, That all the court admir'd him for submission: 5

Conductor.

6

Wonder.

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But meet him now, and, be it in the morn, When every one will give the time of day, He knits his brow, and shows an angry eye, And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee, Disdaining duty that to us belongs. Small curs are not regarded, when they grin; But great men tremble when the lion roars; And Humphrey is no little man in England. First, note, that he is near you in descent; And should you fall, he is the next will mount. Me seemeth, then, it is no policy,— Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears, And his advantage following your decease,— That he should come about your royal person, Or be admitted to your highness' council. By flattery hath he won the commons' heart; And, when he please to make commotion, 'Tis to be fear'd, they all will follow him. Now, 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted; Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden, And choke the herbs for want of husbandry. The reverent care, I bear unto my lord, Made me collect7 these dangers in the duke. If it be fond,8 call it a woman's fear; Which fear, if better reasons can supplant, I will subscribe and say,—I wrong'd the duke. My lord of Suffolk,—Buckingham,—and York,— Reprove my allegation, if you can; Or else conclude my words effectual. Suffolk. Well hath your highness seen into this duke; And, had I first been put to speak my mind, I think, I should have told your grace's tale. The duchess, by his subornation, Upon my life, began her devilish practices: Or if he were not privy to those faults, Yet by reputiug of his high descent,9 (As next the king, he was successive heir,) 0

i. e. Observe. « Foolish. i. e. Valuing himself on his high descent.

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125

And such high vaunts of his nobility, Did instigate the bedlam brain-sick duchess, By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall. Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep; And in his simple show he harbours treason. The fox barks not, when he would steal the lamb. No, no, my sovereign; Gloster is a man Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit. Cardinal. Did he not, contrary to form of law, Devise strange deaths for small offences done? York. And did he not, in his protectorship, Levy great sums of money through the realm, For soldiers9 pay in France, and never sent it? By means whereof, the towns each day revolted. Buckingham. Tut! these are petty faults to faults unknown, Wliich time will bring to light in smooth duke Humphrey. King Henry. My lords, at once: The care you have of us, To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot, Is worthy praise: But shall I speak my conscience? Our kinsman Gloster is as innocent From meaning treason to our royal person, As is the sucking lamb, or harmless dove: The duke is virtuous, mild; and too well given, To dream on evil, or to work my downfall. Queen Margaret. Ah, what more dangerous than this fond affiance? Seems he a dove? his feathers are but borrow'd, For he's disposed as the hateful raven. Is he a lamb ? his skin is surely lent him, For he's inclin'd as are the ravenous wolves. Who cannot steal a shape, that means deceit? Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man. Enter SOMERSET. Somerset. All health unto my gracious sovereign!

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King Henry. Welcome, lord Somerset What news from France? Somerset. That all your interest in those territories Is utterly bereft you; all is lost. King Henry. Cold news, lord Somerset; But God's will be done! York Cold news for me; for I had hope of France, As firmly as I hope for fertile England. Thus are my blossoms blasted in the bud, And caterpillars eat my leaves away; But I will remedy this gear1 ere long, Or sell my title for a glorious grave. [Aside. Enter GLOSTER. Gloster. All happiness unto my lord the king! Pardon, my liege, that I have staid so long. Suffolk. Nay, Gloster, know, that thou art come too soon, Unless thou wert more loyal than thou art: I do arrest thee of high treason here. Gloster. Well, Suffolk, yet thou shalt not see me blush, Nor change my countenance for this arrest; A heart unspotted is not easily daunted. The purest spring is not so free from mud, As I am clear from treasoii to my sovereign: Who can accuse me? wherein am I guilty? York. 'Tis thought, my lord, that you took bribes of France, And being protector stayed the soldiers' pay: By means whereof, his highness hath lost France. Gloster. Is it but thought so? What are they that think it? I never robb'd the soldiers of their pay, Nor ever had one penny bribe from France. So help me God, as I have watch'd the night,— Ay, night by night,—in studying good for England! That doit that e'er I wrested from the king, Or any groat I hoarded to my use, 1

Gear was a general word for things or matters.

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127

Be brought against me at my trial day! No! many a pound of mine own proper store, Because I would not tax the needy commons, Have I disbursed to the garrisons, And never ask'd for restitution. Cardinal. It serves you well, my lord, to say so much. Gloster. I say no more than truth, so help me God! York. In your protectorship, you did devise Strange tortures for offenders, never heard of, That England was defam'd by tyranny. Gloster. Why, 'tis well known, that whiles I was protector, Pity was all the fault that was in me; For I should melt at an offender's tears, And lowly words were ransome for their fault. Unless it were a bloody murderer, Or foul felonious thief that fleec'd poor passengers, I never gave them condign punishment: Murder, indeed, that bloody sin, I tortur'd Above the felon, or what trespass else. Suffolk. ]\Iy lord, these faults are easy,2 quickly answered : But mightier crimes are laid unto your charge, Whereof you cannot easily purge yoursel£ I do arrest you in his highness' name; And here commit you to my lord cardinal To keep, until your further time of trial. King Henry. My lord of Gloster, 'tis my special hope, That you will clear yourself from all suspects; My conscience tells me you are innocent. Gloster. Ah, gracious lord, these days are dangerous! Virtue is chok'd with foul ambition, And charity chas'd hence by rancour's hand; Foul subornation is predominant, And equity exiFd your highness' land. I know, their complot is to have my life; And, if my death might make this island happy, And prove the period of their tyranny, 2

Easily.

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I would expend it with all willingness: But mine is made the prologue to their play: For thousands more, that yet suspect no peril, Will not conclude their plotted tragedy. Beaufort's red sparkling eyes blab his heart's malice, And Suffolk's cloudy brow his stormy hate; Sharp Buckingham unburdens with his tongue The envious load that lies upon his heart; And dogged York, that reaches at the moon, Whose overweening arm I have pluck'd back, By false accuse doth level at my life:— And you, my sovereign lady, with the rest, Causeless have laid disgraces on my head! And, with your best endeavour, have stirr'd up My liefest3 liege to be mine enemy;— Ay, all of you have laid your heads together, Myself had notice of your conventicles. I shall not want false witness to condemn me, Nor store of treasons to augment my guilt; The ancient proverb will be well affected,— A staff is quickly found to beat a dog. Cardinal. My liege, his railing is intolerable: If those that care to keep your royal person From treason's secret knife, and traitors' rage, Be thus upbraided, chid, and rated at, And the offender granted scope of speech, 'Twill make them cool in zeal unto your grace. Suffolk. Hath he not twit our sovereign lady here, With ignominious words though clerkly couch'd, As if she had suborned some to swear False allegations to o'erthrow his state? Queen Margaret. But I can give the loser leave to chide. Gloster. Far truer spoke, than meant: I lose, indeed;— Beshrew the winners, for they played me false! And well such losers may have leave to speak. Buckingham. He'll wrest the sense, and hold us hero all day:— Lord Cardinal, he is your prisoner. 3

Dearest.

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129

Cardinal. Sirs, take away the duke, and guard him sure. Gloster. Ah, thus king Henry throws away his crutch, Before his legs be firm to bear his body: Thus is the shepherd beaten from thy side, And wolves are gnarling who shall gnaw thee first. Ah, that my fear were false! ah, that it were! For, good king Henry, thy decay I fear. [Exeunt ATTENDANTS with GLOSTER. King Henry. My lords, what to your wisdoms seemeth best, Do, or undo, as if ourself were here. Queen Margaret. What, will your highness leave the parliament ? King Henry. Ay, Margaret; my heart is drown'd with grief, "Whose flood begins to flow within mine eyes; My body round engirt with misery; For what's more miserable than discontent? Ah, uncle Humphrey! in thy face I see The map of honour, truth, and loyalty; And yet, good Humphrey, is the hour to come, That e'er I prove thee false, or fear'd thy faith. What low'ring star now envies thy estate, That these great lords, and Margaret our queen, Do seek subversion of thy harmless life? Thou never didst them wrong, nor no man wrong; And as the butcher takes away the calf, And binds the wretch, and beats it when it strays, Bearing it to the bloody slaughter-house; Even so remorseless have they borne him hence. And as the dam runs lowing up and down, Looking the way her harmless young one went, And can do nought but wail her darling's loss; Even so myself bewails good Gloster's case, With sad unhelpful tears; and with dimm'd eyes Look after him, and cannot do him good; So mighty are his vowed enemies, VOL. IV.

K

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SECOND PART OF

His fortunes I will weep; and, 'twixt each groan, Say,— Who's a traitor, Gloster he is none. [Exit Queen Margaret. Free lords, cold snow melts with the sun's hot beams. Henry my lord is cold in great affairs, Too full of foolish pity; and Glosters show Beguiles him as the mournful crocodile With sorrow snares relenting passengers; Or as the snake, roll'd in a flowering bank, With shining checkered slough,4 doth sting a child, That, for the beauty, thinks it excellent. Believe me, lords, were none more wise than I, (And yet, herein, I judge mine own wit good,) This Gloster should be quickly rid the world, To rid us from the fear we have of him. Cardinal. That he should die, is worthy policy: But yet we want a colour for his death: 'Tis meet he be condemn'd by course of law. Suffolk. But, in my mind, that were no policy: The king will labour still to save his life, The commons haply rise to save his life; And yet we have but trivial argument, More than mistrust, that shows him worthy death. York. So that, by this, you would not have him die. Suffolk. Ah, York, no man alive so fain as I. York. 'Tis York that hath more reason for his death.— But, my lord cardinal, and you, my lord of Suffolk,— Say as you think, and speak it from your souls,— Wer't not all one, an empty eagle were set To guard the chicken from the hungry kite, As place duke Humphrey for the king's protector? Queen Margaret. So the poor chicken should be sure of death. Suffolk. Madam, tis true: And wer't not madness then, To make the fox surveyor of the fold? Who being accus'd a crafty murderer, His guilt should be but idly posted over, Because his purpose is not executed. 4

Skin.

KING HENRY VI.

131

No; let him die, in that he is a fox, By nature prov'd an enemy to the flock, Before his chaps be stain'd with crimson blood; As Humphrey, prov'd by reasons, to my liege. And do not stand on quillets how to slay him: Be it by gins, by snares, by subtilty, Sleeping or waking, 'tis no matter how, So he be dead; for that is good deceit Which mates5 him first, that first intends deceit. Queen Margaret Thrice-noble Suffolk, 'tis resolutely spoke. Suffolk. Not resolute, except so much were done; For things are often spoke, and seldom meant: But, that my heart accordeth with my tongue,— Seeing the deed is meritorious, And to preserve my sovereign from his foe,— Say but the word, and I will be his priest. Cardinal. But I would have him dead, my lord of Suffolk, Ere you can take due orders for a priest: Say, you consent, and censure well the deed, And I'll provide his executioner, I tender so the safety of my liege. Suffolk. Here is my hand, the deed is worthy doing. Queen Margaret. And so say I. York. And I : and now we three have spoke it, It skills not greatly6 who impugns our doom. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. Great lords, from Ireland am I come amain, To signify—that rebels there are up, And put the Englishmen unto the sword: Send succours, lords, and stop the rage betinie, Before the wound do grow incurable; For, being green, there is great hope of help. Cardinal. A breach, that craves a quick expedient7 stop! What counsel give you in this weighty cause? 6

Matches.

6

It is of no importance.

7

Expeditious.

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SECOND PART OF

York That Somerset be sent as regent thither: 'Tis meet, that lucky ruler be employ'd; Witness the fortune he hath had in France. Somerset. If York, with all his far-fet8 policy, Had been the regent there instead of me, He never would have staid in France so long. York No, not to lose it all, as thou hast done: I rather would have lost my life betimes, Than bring a burden of dishonour home, By staying there so long, till all were lost. Show me one scar character'd on thy skin: Men's flesh preserv'd so whole, do seldom win. Queen Margaret. Nay then, this spark will prove a raging fire, If wind and fuel be brought to feed it with:— No more, good York;—sweet Somerset be still;— Thy fortune, York, hadst thou been regent there, Might happily have prov'd far worse than his. York What worse than naught ? nay, then a shame take all! Somerset. And, in the number, thee, that wishest shame! Cardinal. My lord of York, try what your fortune is. The uncivil kernes0 of Ireland are in arms, And temper clay with blood of Englishmen: To Ireland will you lead a band of men, Collected choicely, from each county some, And try your hap against the Irishmen? York I will, my lord, so please his majesty. Suffolk Why, our authority is his consent; And, what we do establish, he confirms: Then, noble York, take thou this task in hand. York I am content: Provide me soldiers, lords, Whiles I take order for mine own affairs. Suffolk A charge, lord York, that I will see performU But now return we to the false duke Humphrey. Cardinal No more of him; for I will deal with him, That, henceforth, he shall trouble us no more. 8

Far-fetched.

» Irish foot-soldiers, light-armed.

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133

And so break off; the day is almost spent: Lord Suffolk, you and I must talk of that event. York. My lord of Suffolk, within fourteen days, At Bristol I expect my soldiers; For there I'll ship them all for Ireland. Suffolk. I'll see it truly done, my lord of York. [Exeunt all but YORK. York. Now, York, or never, steel thy fearful thoughts, And change misdoubt to resolution: Be that thou hop'st to be; or what thou art Resign to death, it is not worth the enjoying: Let pale-fac'd fear keep with the mean-born man, And find no harbour in a royal heart. Faster than spring-time showers, comes thought on thought; And not a thought, but thinks on dignity. My brain, more busy than the labouring spider, Weaves tedious snares to trap mine enemies. Well, nobles, well, 'tis politickly done, To send me packing with an host of men: I fear me, you but warm the starved snake, Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts. 'Twas men I lack'd, and you will give them me: I take it kindly; yet, be well assur'd You put sharp weapons in a madman's hands. Whiles I in Ireland nourish a mighty band, I will stir up in England some black storm, And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage Until the golden circuit on my head, Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams, Do calm the fury of this mad-bred flaw.1 And for a minister of my intent, I have seduc'd a headstrong Kentishman, John Cade of Ashford, To make commotion, as full well he can, Under the title of John Mortimer. In Ireland have I seen this stubborn Cade Oppose himself against a troop of kernes; 1

A violent gust of wind.

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And fought so long, till that his thighs with darts Were almost like a sharp-quill'd porcupine; And, in the end being rescued, I have seen him Caper upright like a wild Morisco,2 Shaking the bloody darts, as he his bells. Full often, like a shag-hair'd crafty kerne, Hath he conversed with the enemy: And undiscovered come to me again, And given me notice of their villainies. This devil here shall be my substitute; For that John Mortimer, which now is dead, In face, in gait, in speech, he dcfth resemble: By this I shall perceive the commons' mind, How they affect the house and claim of York, Say, he be taken, rack'd, and tortured: I know, no pain, they can inflict upon him, Will make him say—I mov'd him to those arms. Say, that he thrive, (as 'tis great like he will,) Why then from Ireland come I with my strength, And reap the harvest which that rascal sow'd: For Humphrey being dead, as he shall be, And Henry put apart, the next for me. [Exit. SCENE II.—BURY.

A Boom in tJie Palace.

Enter certain MURDERERS, hastily. 1 Murderer. Run to my lord of Suffolk; let him know, We have despatched the duke as he commanded. 2 Murderer. O, that it were to do!—What have we done? Didst ever hear a man so penitent ? Enter SUFFOLK. 1 Murderer. Here comes my lord. Suffolk Now, sirs, have you Despatch'd this thing? 1 Murderer. Ay, my good lord, he's dead. 2

A Moor in u morris-dance.

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Suffolk. Why, that's well said. Go, get you to my house; I will reward you for this venturous deed. The king and all the peers are here id hand:— Have you laid fait the bed ? are all things well, According as I gave directions? 1 Murderer. 'Tis, my good lord. Suffolk. Away, be gone! [Exeunt MURDERERS. Enter

KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, CARDINAL BEAUFORT, SOMERSET, LORDS, and Others.

King Henry. Go, call our uncle to our presence straight: Say, we intend to try his grace to-day, If he be guilty, as 'tis published. Suffolk. I l l call him presently, my noble lord. [Eocit. King Henry. Lords, take your places;—-And, I pray you all, Proceed no straiter 'gainst our uncle Gloster Than from true evidence, of good esteem, He be approv'd in practice culpable. Queen Margaret. Heaven forbid any malice should prevail, That faultless may condemn a nobleman! Pray God, he may acquit him of suspicion! King Henry. I thank thee, Margaret; these words content me mucL— Re-enter SUFFOLK. How now? why look'st thou pale? why tremblest thou? Where is our uncle? what is the matter, Suffolk? Suffolk. Dead in his bed, my lord: Gloster is dead. Queen Margaret. Marry, God forefend! Cardinal. Heaven's secret judgment:—I did dream to-night, The duke was dumb, and could not speak a word. [The KING swoons. Queen Margaret. How fares my lord ?—Help, lords! the king is dead. Somerset. Kear up his body.

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Queen Margaret. Kun, go, help, help!—0, Henrys cpe thine eyes! Suffolk. He doth revive again;—Madam, be patient* King Henry. O heavenly God! Queen Margaret. How fares my gracious lord? Suffolk. Comfort, my sovereign! gracious Henry, comfort! King Henry. What, doth my lord of Suffolk comfort me? Came he right now to sing a raven's note, Whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers; And thinks he, that the chirping of a wren, By crying comfort from a hollow breast^ Can chase away the first-conceived sound? Hide not thy poison with such sugar'd words, Lay not thy hands on me; forbear, I say; Their touch affrights me, as a serpent's sting* Thou baleful messenger, out of my sight! Upon thy eye-balls murderous tyranny Sits in grim majesty, to fright the world. Look not upon me, for thine eyes are wounding:—» Yet do not go away;—Come, basilisk, And kill the innocent gazer with thy sight: For in the shade of death I shall find joy! In life, but double death now Gloster's dead. Queen Margaret. Why do you rate my lord of Suffolk thus? Although the duke was enemy to him, Yet he, most christian-like, laments his death: And for myself,—foe as he was to me, Might liquid tears, or heart-offending groans, Or blood-consuming sighs recall his life, I would be blind with weeping, sick with groans, Look pale as primrose, with blood-drinking sighs, And all to have the noble duke alive. What know I how the world may deem of me? For it is known, we were but hollow friends; It may be judg'd, I made the duke away; So shall my name with slander's tongue be wounded, And princes' courts be fiU'd with my reproach.

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This get I by his death: Ah me, unhappy! To be a queen, and crown'd with infamy! King Henry. Ah, woe is me for Gloster, wretched man! Queen Margaret. Be woe for me, more wretched than he is. What, dost thou turn away, and hide thy face? Is all thy comfort shut in Gloster's tomb? Why, then dame Margaret was ne'er thy joy; Erect his statue then, and worship it, And make my image but an alehouse sign. Was I for this, nigh wreck'd upon the sea; And twice by awkward wind from England's bank Drove back again unto my native clime? What boded this, but well-forewarning wind Did seem to say,—Seek not a scorpion's nest, Nor set no footing on this unkind shore? What did I then, but curs'd the gentle gusts, And he that loos'd them from their brazen caves; And bid them blow towards England's blessed shore, Or turn our stern upon a dreadful rock? Yet -^Eolus would not be a murderer, But left that hateful office unto thee: The pretty vaulting sea refus'd to drown me: Knowing, that thou wouldst have me drown'd on shore, With tears as salt as sea through thy unkindness: The splitting rocks cow Yd in the sinking sands, And would not dash me with their ragged sides; Because thy flinty heart, more hard than they, Might in thy palace perish Margaret. As far as I could ken thy chalky cliffs, When from the shore the tempest beat us back I stood upon the hatches in the storm: And when the dusky sky began to rob My earnest-gaping sight of thy land's view, I took a costly jewel from my neck,— A heart it was, bound in with diamonds, And threw it towards thy land;—the sea received it; And so, I wish'd, thy body might my heart; And even with this, I lost fair England's view,

1 38

SECOND PART OP

And bid mine eyes be packing with my heart; And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles, For losing ken of Albion's wished coast. How often have I tempted Suffolk's tongue (The agent of thy foul inconstancy,) To sit and witch me, as Ascanius did, When he to madding Dido would unfold • His father's acts, commenc'd in burning Troy? Am I not witch'd like her? or thou not false like him? Ah me, I can no more! Die, Margaret! For Henry weeps, that thou dost live so long. Noise within. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY, The Commons press to the door. Warwick. It is reported, mighty sovereign, That good duke Humphrey traitorously is murder'd By Suffolk and the cardinal Beaufort's means. The commons, like an angry hive of bees, That want their leader, scatter up and down, And care not who they sting in his revenge. Myself have calm'd their spleenful mutiny, Until they hear the order of his death. King Henry. That he is dead, good Warwick, 'tis too true; But how he died, God knows, not Henry: Enter his chamber, view his breathless corpse, And comment then upon his sudden death. Warwick. That I shall do, my liege:—Stay, Salisbury, With the rude multitude, till I return. [WARWICK goes into an inner Room, and SALISBURY retires. King Henry. O thou that judgest all things, stay my thoughts: My thoughts, that labour to persuade my soul, Some violent hands were laid on Humphrey's life! If my suspect be false, forgive me, God; For judgment only doth belong to thee! Fain would I go to chafe his paly lips With twenty thousand kisses, and to drain

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139

Upon his face an ocean of salt tears; To tell my love unto his dumb deaf trunk, And with my fingers feel his hand unfeeling: But all in vain are these mean obsequies; And, to survey his dead and earthy image, "What were it but to make my sorrow greater? Tfie folding doors of an inner Chamber are thrown open, and GLOSTER is discovered dead in his bed: WARWICK and others standing by it.

Warwick. Come hither, gracious sovereign, view this body. King Henry. That is to see how deep my grave is made: For, with his soul fled all my worldly solace; For seeing him, I see my life in death.3 Warwick. As surely as my soul intends to live With that dread King that took our state upon him To free us from his Father's wrathful curse, I do believe that violent hands were laid Upon the life of this thrice-famed duke. Suffolk. A dreadful oath, sworn with a solemn tongue * What instance gives lord Warwick for his vow? Warwick. See how the blood is settled in his face! Oft have I seen a timely-parted ghost,4 Of ashy semblance, meagre, pale, and bloodless, Being all descended to the labouring heart; Who, in the conflict that it holds with death, Attracts the same for aidance 'gainst the enemy; Which with the heart there cools and ne'er returneth To blush and beautify the cheek again. But, see, his face is black, and full of blood; His eye-balls further out than when he liv'd, Staring full ghastly like a strangled man: His hair uprear'd, his nostrils stretch'd with struggling; His hands abroad display'd, as one that grasp'd And tugg'd for life, and was by strength subdu'd. 3 4

L e. I see my life endangered by his death. The body of one who had died a natural death.

]40

SECOND PART OF

Look on the sheets,* his hair, you see, is sticking; His well-proportioned beard made rough and rugged, Like to the summer's corn by tempest lodg'd. It cannot be, but he was murder'd here; The least of all these signs were probable. Suffolk. Why, Warwick, who should do the duke to death? Myself, and Beaufort, had him in protection; And we, I hope, sir, are no murderers. Warwick. But both of you were vow'd duke Humphrey's foes; And you, forsooth, had the good duke to keep: 'Tis like, you would not feast him like a friend; And 'tis well seen he found an enemy. Queen Margaret. Then you, belike, suspect these noblemen As guilty of duke Humphrey's timeless death. Warwick. Who finds the heifer dead, and bleeding fresh, And sees fast by a butcher with an axe, But will suspect, 'twas he that made the slaughter? Who finds the partridge in the puttock's nest, But may imagine how the bird was dead, Although the kite soar with unbloodied beak? Even so suspicious is this tragedy. Queen Margaret. Are you the butcher, Suffolk; where's your knife? Is Beaufort term'd a kite? where are his talons? Suffolk. I wear no knife, to slaughter sleeping men; But here's a vengeful sword, rusted with ease, That shall be scoured in his rancorous heart, That slanders me with murder's crimson badge:— Say, if thou dar'st, proud lord of Warwickshire, That I am faulty in duke Humphrey's death. [Exeunt CARDINAL, SOMERSET, and Others. Warwick. What dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him? Queen Margaret. He dares not calm his contumelious spirit,

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141

Nor cease to be an arrogant controller, Though Suffolk dare him twenty thousand times. Warwick. Madam, be still; with reverence may I say; For every word you speak in his behalf, Is slander to your royal dignity. Suffolk. Blunt-witted lord, ignoble in demeanour! If ever lady wrong'd her lord so much, Thy mother took into her blameful bed Some stern untutor'd churl, and noble stock Was graft with crab-tree slip; whose fruit thou art, And never of the Nevils' noble race. Warwick. But that the guilt of murder bucklers thee, And I should rob the deathsman of his fee, Quitting thee thereby of ten thousand shames, And that my sovereign's presence makes me mild, I would, false murderous coward, on thy knee Make thee beg pardon for thy passed speech, And say—it was thy mother that thou mean'st, That thou thyself wast born in bastardy; And, after all this fearful homage done, Give thee thy hire, and send thy soul to hell, Pernicious bloodsucker of sleeping men! Suffolk.* Thou shalt be waking, while I shed thy blood, If from this presence thou dar'st go with me. Warwick. Away even now, or I will drag thee hence: Unworthy though thou art, 111 cope with thee, And do some service to duke Humphrey's ghost. \Exeunt SUFFOLK and WARWICK. King Henry. What stronger breast-plate than a heart untainted? Thrice is he arm'd that hath his quarrel just; And he but naked, though lock'd up in steel, Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. [A noise within. Queen Margaret. What noise is this?

142

Re-enter

SECOND PART OF SUFFOLK

and

WARWICK,

with their weapons

drawn. King Henry. Why, how now, lords? your wrathful weapons drawn Here in our presence? dare you be so bold?— Why, what tumultuous clamour have we here? Suffolk. The traitorous Warwick, with the men of Bury, Set all upon me, mighty sovereign. Noise of a Crowd within. Re-enter SALISBURY. Salisbury. Sirs, stand apart; the king shall know your mind.— [Speaking to those within. Dre^d lord, the commons send you word by me, Unless false Suffolk straight be done to death, Or banished fair England's territories, They will by violence tear him from your palace, And torture him with grievous ling'ring death. They say, by him the good duke Humphrey died; They say, in him they fear your highness' death; And mere instinct of love and loyalty,— Free from a stubborn opposite intent, As being thought to contradict your liking,— Makes them thus forward in his banishment. They say, in care of your most royal person, That, if your highness should intend to sleep, And charge—that no man should disturb your rest, In pain of your dislike, or pain of death; Yet notwithstanding such a straight edict, Were there a serpent seen with forked tongue, That slily glided towards your majesty, It were but necessary, you were wak'd; Lest, being suffer'd, in that harmful slumber, The mortal worm might make the sleep eternal: And therefore do they cry, though you forbid, That they will guard you, whe'r you will, or no, From such fell serpents as false Suffolk is; With whose envenomed and fatal sting,

KING HENRY VI.

143

Your loving uncle, twenty times his worth, They say is shamefully bereffc of life Commons. [Within] A n answer from the king, my lord of Salisbury. Suffolk 'Tis like the commons, rude unpolish'd hinds, Could send such message to their sovereign: But you, my lord, were glad to be employed, To show how quaint5 an orator you are: But all the honour Salisbury hath won, Is—that he was the lord ambassador, Sent from a sort6 of tinkers to the king. Commons. [Within. An answer from the king, or we'll break in. King Henry. Go, Salisbury, and tell them allfromme, I thank them for their tender loving care: And had I not been 'cited so by them, Yet did I purpose as they do entreat; For sure, my thoughts do hourly prophesy Mischance unto my state by Suffolk's means. And therefore—by his Majesty I swear, Whose far unworthy deputy I am,— He shall not breathe infection in this air But three days longer, on the pain of death. [Exit SALISBURY. Queen Mwrgweb, O Henry, let me plead for gentle Suffolk. King Hemry. Ungentle queen^ to call him gentle Suffolk. No more, I say; if thou dost plead for him, Thou wilt but add increase unto my wrath. Had I but said, I would have kept my word; But, when I swear, it is irrevocable:— If, after three days' space thou here be'st found On any ground that I am ruler of, The world shall not be ransome for thy life.— Come, Warwick, come good Warwick, go with me; I have great,matters to impart to thee. [Exeunt KING HENRY, WARWICK, LORDS, dse. 5

Dexterous.

6

A company.

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SECOND PART OF

Queen Margaret. Mischance, and sorrow, go along with you! Heart's discontent, and sour affliction, Be playfellows to keep you company! Suffolk. Cease, gentle queen, these execrations, And let thy Suffolk take his heavy leave. Queen Margaret. Eye, coward woman, and soft-hearted wretch! Hast thou not spirit to curse thine enemies? Suffolk. A plague upon them! wherefore should I curse them? Would curses kill, as doth the mandrake's groan, I would invent as bitter-searching terms, As curst, as harsh, and horrible to hear, Delivered strongly through my fixed teeth, With full as many signs of deadly hate, As lean-fac'd Envy in her loathsome cave: My tongue should stumble in mine earnest words: Mine eyes should sparkle like the beaten flint; My hair be fix'd on end, as one distract; Ay, every joint should seem to curse and ban: And even now my burden'd heart would break, Should I not curse them. Poison be their drink! Gall, worse than gall, the daintiest that they taste! Their sweetest shade, a grove of cypress trees! Their chiefest prospect, murdering basilisks! Their softest touch, as smart as lizards' stings! Their musick, frightful as the serpent's hiss; And boding screech-owls make the concert full! Queen Margaret. Enough, sweet Suffolk; thou torment'st thyself; And these dread curses—like the sun 'gainst glass, Or like an overcharged gun,—recoil, And turn the force of them upon thyself Suffolk. You bade me ban,7 and will you bid me leave? Now, by the ground that I am banish'd from, Well could I curse away a winter's night, Though standing naked on a mountain top, 7

Curse.

KING HENRY VI.

145

Where biting cold would never let grass grow, And think it but a minute spent in sport. Queen Margaret. O let me entreat thee, cease! Give me thy hand, That I may dew it with my mournful tears; Nor let the rain of heaven wet this place, To wash away my woeful monuments. 0, could this kiss be printed in thy hand; [Kisses his hand. That thou might'st think upon these by the seal, Through whom a thousand sighs are breath'd for thee! So, get thee gone, that I may know my grief; 5 Tis but surmis'd whilst thou art standing by, I will repeal thee, or, be well assur'd, Adventure to be banished myself: And banished 1 am, if but from thee. Go, speak not to me; even now be gone.— O, go not yet!—Even thus two friends condemn'd Embrace, and kiss, and take ten thousand leaves, Loather a hundred times to part than die. Yet now farewell; and farewell life with thee! Suffolk. Thus is poor Suffolk ten times banished, Once by the king, and three times thrice by thee. 'Tis not the land I care for, wert thou hence; A wilderness is populous enough, So Suffolk had thy heavenly company: For where thou art, there is the world itself, With every several pleasure in the world; And where thou art not, desolation. I can no more:—live thou to joy thy life; Myself no joy in nought, but that thou liv'st. Enter YAUX. Queen Margaret. Whither goes Yaux so fast? what news I pr'ythee? Yaux. To signify unto his majesty, That cardinal Beaufort is at point of death: For suddenly a grievous sickness took him, That makes him gasp, and stare, and catch the air, VOL. IV.

L

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SECOND PAKT OF

Blaspheming God, and cursing men on earth. Sometime, he talks as if duke Humphrey's ghost Were by his side; sometime, he calls the king, And whispers to his pillow, as to him, The secret of his overcharged soul: And I am sent to tell his majesty, That even now he cries aloud for him. Queen Margaret. Go, tell this heavy message to the king. [Exit VAUX. Ah me! what is this world? what news are these? But wherefore grieve I at an hour's poor loss, Omitting Suffolk's exile, my soul's treasure? Why only, Suffolk, mourn I not for thee, And with the southern clouds contend in tears; Theirs for the earth's increase, mine for my sorrows? Now, get thee hence: The king, thou know'st, is coming: If thou be found by me, thou art but dead. Suffolk. If I depart from thee, I cannot live: And in thy sight to die, what were it else, But like a pleasant slumber in thy lap? Here could I breathe my soul into the air, As mild and gentle as the cradle-babe, Dying with mother's teat between its lips: Where,8 from thy sight, I should be raging mad, And cry out for thee to close up mine eyes, To have thee with thy lips to stop my mouth; So should'st thou either turn my flying soul, Or I should breathe it so unto thy body, And then it liv'd in sweet Elysium. To die by thee, were but to die in jest; From thee to die, were torture more than death: O, let me stay, befall what may befall. Queen Margaret. Away! though parting be a fretfiil corrosive, I t is applied to a deathful wound. To France, sweet Suffolk: let me hear from thee; For wheresoever thou art in this world's globe, I'll have an Iris that shall find thee out. 8

Whereas.

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147

Suffolk. I go. Queen Margaret And take my heart with tliee. Suffolk. A jewel, lock'd into the woeful'st cask That ever did contain a thing of worth. Even as a split ted bark, so sunder we; This way fall I to death. Queen Margaret. This way for me. [Exeunt severally. SCENE III.—LONDON.

CARDINAL BEAUFORT'S

Bed-chamber.

Enter KING HENRY, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and Others. The CARDINAL in bed; ATTENDANTS with him. King Henry. How fares my lord? speak, Beaufort, to thy sovereign. Cardinal. If thou be'st death, I'll give thee England's treasure, Enough to purchase such another island, So thou wilt let me live, and feel no pain. King Henry. Ah, what a sign it is of evil life, When death's approach is seen so terrible! Warwick. Beaufort, it is thy sovereign speaks to thee. Cardinal. Bring me unto my trial when you wiiL Died he not in his bed ? where should he die ? Can I make men live, whe'r they will or no?— 0 ! torture me no more, I will confess.— Alive again? then show me where he is; I'll give a thousand pound to look upon him.— He hath no eyes, the dust hath blinded them.— Comb down his hair! look! look! it stands upright, Like lime-twigs set to catch my winged soul!— Give me some drink; and bid the apothecary Bring the strong poison that I bought of him. King Henry. O thou eternal Mover of the heavens, Look with a gentle eye upon this wretch! 0, beat away the busy meddling fiend, That lays strong siege unto this wretch's soul, And from his bosom purge this black despair 1

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SECOND PART OF

Wcvrwick. See how the pangs of death do make him grin. Salisbury. Disturb him not, let him pass peaceably. King Henry. Peace to his soul, if God's good pleasure be! Lord cardinal, if thou think'st on heaven's bliss, Hold up thy hand, make signal of thy hope.— He dies, and makes no sign; O God, forgive him! Warwick. So bad a death argues a monstrous life. King Henry. Forbear to judge, for we are sinners allClose up his eyes, and draw the curtain close; And let us all to meditation.

ACT IV. SCENE I.—KENT.

The Sea-shore near

DOVER.

Firing heard at Sea. Then enter from a Boat a CAPTAIN, a MASTER, a MASTER'S MATE, WALTER WHITMORE,

and Others; with them SUFFOLK and other GENTLEMEN, Prisoners Captain. The gaudy, blabbing, and remorseful9 day Is crept into the bosom of the sea; A.nd now loud-howling wolves arouse the jades That drag the tragick melancholy night; Who with their drowsy, slow, and flagging wings Clip dead men's graves, and from their misty jaws Breathe foul contagious darkness in the air. Therefore, bring forth the soldiers of our prize; For, whilst our pinnace anchors in the Downs, Here shall they make their ransome on the sand, Or with their blood stain this discolour'd shore,— Master, this prisoner freely give I thee;— And thou that art his mate, make boot of this;— The other, [Pointing to SUFFOLK,] Walter Whitmorfy is thy share. 9

Pitiful.

KING HENKr VI.

14:9

1 Gentleman. What is my ransome, master? let me know. Master. A thousand crowns, or else lay down your head. Mate. And so much shall you give, or off goes yours. Captain. What, think you much to pay two thousand crowns, And bear the name and port of gentlemen ?— Cut both the villains' throats;—for die you shall: The lives of those which we have lost in fight, Cannot be counterpois'd with such a petty sum. 1 Gentleman. I'll give it, sir; and therefore spare my life. 2 Gentleman. And so will I, and write home for it straight. Whitmore. I lost mine eye in laying the prize aboard, And therefore to revenge it, shalt thou die; [To SUFFOLK.

And so should these, if I might have my will. Captain. Be not so rash; take ransome, let him live, Suffolk. Look on my George, I am a gentleman ; Rate me at what thou wilt, thou shalt be paid. Whitmore. And so am I;—my name is—Walter Whitmore. How now? why start'st thou? what, doth death affright? Suffolk. Thy name affrights me, in whose sound is death. A cunning man did calculate my birth, And told me—that by Water I should die: Yet let not this make thee be bloody-minded; Thy name is—Gualtier, being rightly sounded. Whitmore. Gualtier, or Walter, which it is, I care not; Ne'er yet did base dishonour blur our name, But with our sword we wip'd away the blot; Therefore, when merchant-like I sell revenge, Broke be my sword, my arms torn and defae'd, And I proclaimed a coward through the world! [Lays hold on SUFFOLK. Suffolk Stay, Whitmore; for thy prisoner is a prince, The duke of Suffolk, William de la Poole. Whitmore. The duke of Suffolk, muffled up in rags!

150

SECOND PART OP

Suffolk. Ay, but these rags, are no part of the duke; Jove sometime went disguis'd, And why not I? Captain. But Jove was never slain, as thou shalt be. Suffolk. Obscure and lowly swain, king Henry's blood, The honourable blood of Lancaster, Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.1 Hast thou not kiss'd thy hand, and held my stirrup? Bare-headed plodded by my foot-cloth mule, And thought thee happy when I shook my head? How often hast thou waited at my cup, Fed from my trencher, kneel'd down at the board, When I have feasted with queen Margaret? Remember it, and let it make thee crest-fallen; Ay, and allay this thy abortive pride: How in our voiding lobby hast thou stood, And duly waited for my coming forth? This hand of mine hatli writ in thy behalf, And therefore shall it charm thy riotous tongue. Whitmore. Speak, captain, shall I stab the forlorn swain? Captain. First let my words stab him, as he hath me. Suffolk. Base slave! thy words are blunt, and so art thou. Captain. Convey him hence, and on our long-boat's side Strike off his head. Suffolk. Thou dar'st not for thy own. Captain. Yes, Poole. Suffolk. Poole? Captain. Poole? sir Poole? Whose filth and dirt Troubles the silver spring where England drinks. Now will I dam up this thy yawning mouth, For swallowing the treasure of the realm; Thy lips, that kiss'd the queen, shall sweep the ground; And thou, that smil'dst at good duke Humphrey's death, Against the senseless winds shall grin in vain, Who, in contempt, shall hiss at thee again: And wedded be thou to the hags of hell, For daring to affy2 a mighty lord '•A low fellow.

2 To betroth in marriage.

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Unto the daughter of a worthless king, Having neither subject, wealth, nor diadem. By thee Anjou and Maine were sold to France: The false revolting Normans, thorough thee, Disdain to call us lord; and Picardy Hath slain their governors, surpriz'd our forts, And sent the ragged soldiers wounded home. The princely Warwick, and the Nevils all,— Whose dreadful swords were never drawn in vain, As hating thee, are rising up in arms: And now the house of York—thrust from the crown, By shameful murder of a guiltless king, And lofty proud encroaching tyranny— Burns with revenging fire; whose hopeful colours Advance our half-fac'd sun, striving to shine, Under the which is writ—invitis nitbibus. The commons here in Kent are up in arms: And, to conclude, reproach and beggary Is crept into the palace of our king, And all by thee:—Away; convey him hence. Suffolk. 0 that I were a god, to shoot forth thunder Upon these paltry, servile, abject drudges! Small things make base men proud: this villain here, Being captain of a pinnace,3 threatens more Than Bargulus the strong Illyrian pirate. Drones suck not eagles' blood, but rob bee-hives. It is impossible, that I should die By such a lowly vassal as thyself. Thy words move rage, and not remorse, in me: I go of message from the queen to France; I charge thee, waft me safely cross the channel. Captain. Walter, Whitmore. Come, Suffolk, I must waft thee to thy death. Suffolk. Geliclus timor occupat artus: 'tis thee I fear. Whitmore. Thou shalt have cause to fear, before I leave thee. What, are ye daunted now? now will ye stoop? 3

A ship of small burden.

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SECOND PART OF

1 Gentleman. My gracious lord, entreat him, speak him fair. Suffolk. Suffolk's imperial tongue is stern and rough, Us'd to command, untaught to plead for favour. Far be it, we should honour such as these With humble suit: no, rather let my head Stoop to the block, than these knees bow to any Save to the God of heaven, and to my king; And sooner dance upon a bloody pole, Than stand uncover'd to the vulgar groom. True nobility is exempt from fear;— More can I bear, than you dare execute. Captain. Hale him away, and let him talk no more. Suffolk. Come, soldiers, show what cruelty ye can, That this my death may never be forgot!— Great men oft die by vile bezonians:4 A Roman sworder and banditto slave, Murder'd sweet Tully; Brutus' bastard hand Stabb'd Julius Csesar; savage islanders, Pompey the great: and Suffolk dies by pirates. \Etoib SUFFOLK with WHITMORE, and Oilwrs. Captain. And as for these whose ransome we have set, It is our pleasure one of them depart:— Therefore come you with us, and let him go. [Exeunt all but thefirat GENTLEMAN. He-enter WHITMOEE, with SUFFOLK'S Body. Whitmore. There let his head and lifeless body lie, Until the queen his mistress bury it. \Eodl. 1 Gentleman. O barbarous and bloody spectacle! His body will I bear unto the king: If he revenge it not, yet will his friends; So will the queen, that living held him dear.

\Exit, with the Body. 4

Low men.

KING HENRY VI.

153

SCENE II.—BLACKHEATH.

Enter GEORGE JBEVTS and JOHN HOLLAND. George. Come, and get thee a sword, though made of a lath; they have been up these two days. John. They have the more need to sleep now then. George. I tell thee, Jack Cade the clothier means to dress the commonwealth, and turn it, and set a new nap upon it. John. So he had need, lor 'tis threadbare. Well, I say, it was never merry world in England, since gentlemen came up. George. O miserable age! Virtue is not regarded in handycrafts-men. John. The nobility think scorn to go in leather aprons. George. Nay more, the king's council are no good workmen. John. True; And yet it is said,—Labour in thy vocation : which is as much to say, as,—let the magistrates be labouring men; and therefore should we be magistrates. George. Thou hast hit it; for there's no better sign of a brave mind, than a hard hand. John. I see them! I see them! There's Best's son, the tanner of Wingham; George. He shall have the skins of our enemies, to make dog's leather of. John. And Dick the butcher, George. Then is sin struck down like an ox, and iniquity's throat cut like a calf. John. And Smith the weaver. George. Argo, their thread of life is spun. John. Come, come, let's fall in with them. Drum.

Enter CADE, DICK the Butcher, SMITH tlie Weaver, and Others in great number.

Cade. We, John Cade, so termed of our supposed father,

]5i

SECOND PART OF

Dick. Or rather of stealing a cade of herrings.5 [Aside. Cade, —for our enemies shall fall before us, inspired with the spirit of putting down kings and princes.— Command silence. Dick. Silence! Cade. My father was a Mortimer,— Dick. He was an honest man, and a good bricklayer. [Aside. Cade. My mother a Plantagenet ;— Dick. I knew her well; she was a midwife. [Aside. Cade. My wife descended of the Lacies,— Dick. She was, indeed, a pedlar's daughter, and sold many laces. [Aside. Smith. But, now of late, not able to travel with her furred pack, she washes bucks here at home. [Aside. Cade. Therefore am I of an honourable house. Dick. Ay, by my faith, the field is honourable; And there was he born, under a hedge; for his father had never a house, but the cage. [Aside. Cade. Valiant I am. Smith. 'A must needs; for beggary is valiant. [Aside. Cade. I am able to endure much, Dick. No question of that; for I have seen him whipped three market days together. [Aside. Cade. I fear neither sword nor fire. Smith. He need not fear the sword, for his coat is of proof. [Aside. Dick. But, methinks he should stand in fear of fire, being burnt i' the hand for stealing of sheep. [Aside. Cade. Be brave, then; for your captain is brave, and vows reformation. There shall be, in England, seven halfpenny loaves sold for a penny: the three-hooped pot shall have ten hoops; and I will make it felony/to drink small beer; all the realm shall be in common, and in Cheapside shall my palfry go to grass. And, when I am king, (as king I will be) All. God save your majesty! Cade. 1 thank you, good people:—there shall be no 5

A barrel of herrings.

KING HENRY VI.

155

money; all shall eat and drink on my score; and I will apparel them all in one livery, that they may agree like brothers. Dick. The first thing we ao, let's kill all the lawyers. Cade. Nay, that I mean to do. Is not this a lamentaide thing, that of the skin of an innocent lamb should be made parchment? that parchment, being scribbled o'er, should undo a man? Some say, the bee stings: but I say, 'tis the bee's wax; for I did but seal once to a thing, and I was never mine own man since. How now; who's there ? Enter some, bringing in the CLERK of CHATHAM.

Smith. The clerk of Chatham: he can write and read, and cast accompt. Cade. O monstrous! Smith. We took him setting of boys' copies. Cade. Here's a villain! Smith. H'as a book in his pocket, with red letters iivt. Cade. Nay, then he is a conjurer. Dick. Nay, he can make obligations, and write courthand. Cade. I am sorry for't: the man is a proper man, on mine honour; unless I find him guilty, he shall not die, —Come hither, sirrah ; I must examine thee: What is thy name? Clerk. Emmanuel. Dick. They use to write it on the top of letters; 'Twill go hard with you. Cade. Let me alone:—Dost thou use to write thy name? or hast thou a mark to thyself, like an honest plain-dealing man? Clerk. Sir, I thank Heaven, I have been so well brought up, that I can write my name. All. He hath confessed: away with him; he's a villain, and a traitor. Cade. Away with him, I say: hang him with his pen and inkhorn about his neck. [Exeunt some with the CLERK.

156

SECOND PAJIT OF

Enter MICHAEL. Michael. Where's our general? Cade. Here I am, thou particular fellow. Michael. Fly, fly, fly! sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother are hard by, with the king's forces. Cade. Stand, villain, stand, or I'll fell thee down; He shall be encountered with a man as good as himself; he is but a knight, is 'a? Michael. No. Cade. To equal him, I will make myself a knight presently;—Rise up Sir John Mortimer. Now .have at him. Enter

and WILLIAM his brotiier, with Drum and Forces. Stafford. Rebellious hinds, the filth and scum of Kent, Mark'd for the gallows,—lay your weapons down, Home to your cottages, forsake this groom;— The king is merciful, if you revolt. William Stafford. But angry, wrathful, and inclin'd to blood, If you go forward: therefore yield, or die. Cade. As for these silken-coated slaves, I pass not; 6 I t is to you, good people, that I speak, O'er whom, in time to come, I hope to reign; For I am rightful heir unto the crown. Stafford. Villain, thy father was a plasterer; And thou thyself a shearman, Art thou not ? Cade. And Adam was a gardener. William Stafford. And what of that? Cade. Marry, this:—Edmund Mortimer, earl of March, Married the duke of Clarence' daughter; Did he not ] Stafford. Ay, sir. Cade. By her, he had two children at one birth. William Stafford. That's false. Cade. Ay, there's the question, but, I say, 'tis true: The elder of them, being put to nurse, SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD,

6

1 pay them no regard.

KING HENB* VI,

157

Was by a beggar-woman stol'n away; And ignorant of his birth and parentage, Became a bricklayer, when he came to age: His son am I ; deny it, if you can. Dick. Nay, 'tis too time; therefore he shall be king. Smith. Sir, he made a chimney in my father's house, and the bricks are alive at this day to testify it; therefore deny it not. Stafford. And will you credit this base drudge's words, That speaks he knows not what? All. Ay, marry, will we; therefore get ye gone. William Stafford. Jack Cade, the duke of York hath taught you this. Cade. He lies; for I invented it myself. [Aside.—Go to, sirrah. Tell the king from me, that—for his father's sake, Henry the fifth, in whose time boys went to spancounter for French crowns—I am content he shall reign; but I'll be protector over him. Dick. And, furthermore, we'll have the lord Say's head for selling the dukedom of Maine. Cade. And good reason; for thereby is England maimed, and fain to go with a staff, but that my puissance holds it up. Fellow kings, I tell you, that that lord Say hath maimed the commonwealth, and more than that, he can speak French, and therefore he is a traitor. Stafford. 0 gross and miserable ignorance! Cade. Nay, answer if you can: The Frenchmen are our enemies: go to, then, I ask but this; Can he, that speaks with the tongue of an enemy, be a good counsellor, or no ? All. No, no; and therefore we'll have his head. William Stafford. Well, seeing gentle words will not prevail, Assail them with the army of the king. Stafford. Herald, away; and, throughout every town, Proclaim them traitors that are up with Cade; That those, which fly before the battle ends, May, even in their wives' and children's sight,

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SECOND PART OF

Be hang'd up for example at their doors: And you, that be the king's friends, follow me. [Exeunt the two STAFFORDS, and Forces. Cade. And you, that love the commons, follow me.— Now show yourselves men, 'tis for liberty. We will not leave one lord, one gentleman: Spare none, but such as go in clouted shoon ; 7 For they are thrifty honest men, and such As would (but that they dare not,) take our parts. Dick. They are all in order, and march toward us. Cade. But then are we in order, when we are most out of order. Come, march forward. [Exeunt. SCENE

Alarums.

III.—Another part of

BLACKHEATH.

The two Parties enter and fight, and both the STAFFORDS are slain.

Cade. "Where's Dick, the butcher of Ashford? Dick. Here, sir. Cade. They fell before thee like sheep and oxen, and thou behavedst thyself as if thou hadst been in thine own slaughter-house: therefore thus will I reward thee, —The Lent shall be as long again as it is; and thou shalt have a license to kill for a hundred lacking one. Dick. I desire no more. Cade. And, to speak truth, thou deservedst no less. This monument of the victory will I bear; and the bodies shall be dragged at my horse' heels, till I do come to London, where we will have the mayor's sword borne before us. Dick. If we mean to thrive and do good, break open the gaols, and let out the prisoners. Cade. Fear not that, I warrant thee. Come, let's \Exeunt. march towards London. 7

Shoes.

KING HENRY VI.

159

A Room in the Palace. Enter KING HENRY, reading a Supplication; tlte DUKE of BUCKINGHAM and LORD SAY with him: at a distance, QUEEN MARGARET, mourning over SUFFOLK'S SCENE IV.—LONDON.

Head.

Queen Margaret. Oft have I heard—that grief softens the inind, And makes it fearful and degenerate; Think therefore on revenge, and cease to weep. But who can cease to weep, and look on this? Here may his head lie on my throbbing breast: But where's the body that I should embrace? Buckingham. What answer makes your grace to the rebels' supplication? King Henry. I'll send some holy bishop to entreat: For God forbid, so many simple souls Should perish by the sword! And 1 myself, Rather than bloody war should cut them short, Will parley with Jack Cade their general.— But stay, I'll read it over once again. Queen Margaret. Ah, barbarous villains! hath this lovely face Rul'd like a wandering planet, over me; And could it not enforce them to relent, That were unworthy to behold the same? King Henry. Lord Say, Jack Cade hath sworn to have thy head. Say. Ay, but I hope, your highness shall have his. King Henry. How now, madam? Still Lamenting, and mourning for Suffolk's death; I fear, my love, if that I had been dead, Thou wouldest not have mourn'd so much for me. Queen Margaret. My love, I should not mourn, but die for thee. Enter a MESSENGER. King Henry. How now! what news? why com'st thou in such haste?

160

SECOND PART OF

Messenger. The rebels are in Southwark; Fly, my lord! Jack Cade proclaims himself lord Mortimer, Descended from the duke of Clarence' house: And calls your grace usurper, openly, Arid vows to crown himself in Westminster. His army is a ragged multitude Of hinds and peasants, rude and merciless; Sir Humphrey Stafford and his brother s death Hath given them heart and courage to proceed: All scholars, lawyers, courtiers, gentlemen, They call—false caterpillars, and intend their death. King Henry. O graceless men! they know not what they do. Buckingham. My gracious lord, retire to Kenelworth, Until a power be rais'd to put them down. Queen Margaret Ah! were the duke of Suffolk now alive, These Kentish rebels would be soon appeas'd. King Henry. Lord Say, the traitors hate thee, Therefore away with us to Kenelworth. Say. So might your grace's person be in danger; The sight of me is odious in their eyes : And therefore in this city will I stay, And live alone as secret as I may. Enter another MESSENGER. 2 Messenger. Jack Cade liath gotten London-bridge; the citizens Fly and forsake their houses: The rascal people, thirsting after prey, Join with the traitor; and they jointly sweai; To spoil the city, and your royal court. Buckingham. Then linger not, my lord; away, take horse. King Henry. Come, Margaret; God, our hope, will succour us. Queen Margwret. My hope is gone, now Suffolk is deceased.

KING HENRY VI.

161

King Henry. Farewell, my lord, [To LORD SAY;] trust not the Kentish rebels. Buckingham. Trust no body, for fear you be betray'd. Say. The trust I have is in mine innocence, And therefore am I bold and resolute. [Eoceunt. V.—The TOWER. Enter LORD SCALES, cmd others, on the Walls. Then enter certain CITIZENS below. Scales. How now? is Jack Cade slain? 1 Citizen. No, my lord, nor likely to be slain; for they have won the bridge, killing all those that withr stand them: The lord mayor craves aid of your honour from the Tower, to defend the city from the rebels. Scales. Such aid as I can spare, you shall command; But I am troubled here with them myself; The rebels have assay'd to win the Tower. But get you to Smithfield, and gather head, And thither I will send you Matthew Gough: Fight for your king, your country, and your lives; And so farewell, for I must hence again. [Exeunt. SCENE

SCENE VL—CANNON STREET.

Enter

and his Followers. He strikes his Staff on London-stone. Cade. Now is Mortimer lord of this city. And here, sitting upon London-stone. I charge and command, that of the city's cost, the conduit run nothing but claret wine this first year of our reign. And now, henceforward, it shall be treason for any that calls me other than —lord Mortimer. JACK CADE

Enter a SOLDIER, running. Soldier. Jack Cade! Jack Cade! Cade. Knock him down there. [They kill him. Smith. If this fellow be wise^ he'll never call you Jack Cade more; I think he hath a very fair warning. VOL. IV.

M

162

SECOND PART OF

Dick. My Jord, there's an army gathered together in Smithfield. Cade. Come then, let's go fight with them: But, first, go and set London-bridge on fire; and if you can, burn, down the Tower too. Come, let's away. [Exeunt*. SCENE VII.—SMITHFIELD*

Alarum. Enter, on one side, CADE and his company; on the other, Citizens, and the King's Farces, Iieaded by MATTHEW GrOUGH. They fight; the Citizens cure routed, and MATTHEW GOUGH is slain. Cade. So, sirs:—Now go some and pull down the Savoy; others to the inns of court; down with them all. Dick. I have a suit unto your lordship. Cade. Be it a lordship, thou shalt have it for that word. Dick. Only that the laws of England may come out of your mouth. John. 'Twill be sore law, then; for he was thrust in the mouth with a spear, and 'tis not whole yet. [Aside. Cade. I have thought upon it; it shall be so. Away, burn all the records of the realm; my mouth shall be the parliament of England. John. Then we are like to have biting statutes, unless his teeth be pulled out. [Aside. Cade. And henceforward all things shall be in common. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. My lord, a prize, a prize! here's the lord Say, which sold the towns in France; he that made us pay one and twenty fifteens;8 and one shilling to the pound, the last subsidy. Enter GEORGE BEVIS> with the LORD SAY. Cade. Well, he shall be beheaded for it ten times. 8

A fifteen was the fifteenth part of all the moveables or personal property of each subject.

KING HENKY VI.

1G3

Ah, thou say,9 thou serge, nay, thou buckram lord! now art thou within point-blank of our jurisdiction regal. What canst thou answer to my majesty, for giving up of Normandy unto the dauphin of France ? Be it known unto theeby these presence, even the presence of lord Mortimer, that I am the besom that must sweep the court clean of suchfilthas thou art. Thou hast most traitorously corrupted the youth of the realm, in erecting a grammar-school: and whereas, before, our forefathers had no other books but the score and the tally, thou hast caused printing to be used; and, contrary to the king, his crown and dignity, thou hast built a paper-mill. It will be proved to thy face, that thou hast men about thee, that usually talk of a noun, and a verb; and such abominable words, as no Christian ear can endure to hear. Thou hast appointed justices of peace, to call poor men before them about matters they were not able to answer. Moreover, thou hast put them in prison, and because they could not read,1 thou hast hanged them, when, indeed, only for that cause they have been most worthy to live. Thou dost ride on a foot-cloth,2 dost thou not? Say. What of that? Cade. Marry, thou oughtest not to let thy horse wear a cloak, when honester men than thou go in their hose and doublets. Dick. And work in their shirt too; as myself for example, that am a butcher. Say. You men of Kent.— Dick. What say you of Kent ? Say. Nothing but this: Tis bona terra, mala gens. Cade. Away with him, away with him! he speaks Latin. Say. Hear me but speak, and bear me where you will. Kent, in the commentaries Csesar writ, Is term'd the civil'st place of all this isle: Sweet is the country, because full of riches; 0 1 2

Say was a kind of serge. i. e. Because they could not claim the benefit of clergy. A kind of housing, which covered the body of the horse.

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SECOND PAKT OF

The people liberal, valiant, active, wealthy: Which makes me hope you are not void of pity. I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandy; Yet to recover them, would lose my life. Justice with favour have I always done; Prayers and tears have mov'd me, gifts could never. When have I ought exacted at your hands, Kent to maintain, the king, the realm, and you? Large gifts have I bestow'd on learned clerks, Because my book preferr'd me to,the king: And—seeing ignorance is the curse of Heaven, Knowledge the wing wherewith we fly to it,— Unless you be possess'd with devilish spirits, You cannot but forbear to murder me. This tongue hath parley'd unto foreign kings For your behoof,— Cade. Tut! when struck'st thou one blow in the field? Say. Great men have reaching hands: oft have I struck Those that I never saw, and struck them dead. George. O monstrous coward! what, to come behind folks? Say. These cheeks are pale for watching for your good. Cade. Give him a box o' the ear, and that will make 'em red again. Say. Long sitting to determine poor men's causes hath made me full of sickness and diseases. Cade. Ye shall have a hempen caudle then, and the pap of a hatchet. Dick. Why dost thou quiver, man? Say. The palsy, and not fear, provoketh me. Cade. Nay, he nods at us; as who should say,—I'll be even with you. I'll see if his head will stand steadier on a pole, or no: Take him away, and behead him. Say. Tell me, wherein I have offended most ? Have I affected wealth, or honour; speak? Are my chests fiU'd up with extorted gold?

KING HENRY VI.

165

Is my apparel sumptuous to behold? Whom have I injur'd, that ye seek my death? These hands are free from guiltless blood-shedding,3 This breast from harbouring foul deceitful thoughts. O, let me live! Cade. I feel remorse in myself with his words: but I'll bridle it; he shall die, an it be but for pleading so well for his life. Away with him! he has a familiar4 under his tongue; Go, take him away, I say, and strike off his head presently; and then break into his son-in-law's house, sir James Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both upon two poles hither. AIL It shall be done. . Say. Ah, countiymen! if when you make your prayers, God should be so obdurate as yourselves, How would it fare with your departed sonls? And therefore yet relent, and save my life. Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye. [Exeunt some with

LORD SAY.

The proudest peer in the realm shall not wear a head on his shoulders, unless he pay me tribute; men shall hold of me in capite; and we charge and command, that their wives be as free as heart can wish, or tongue can tell. Dick. My lord, when shall we go to Cheapside, and take up commodities upon our bills? Cade. Marry, presently. All. 0 brave! Re-enter Rebels, with the Heads of Son-in-law.

LORD SAY

and his

Cade. But is not this braver ?—Let them kiss one another, for they loved well, when they were alive. Now part them again, lest they consult about the giving up of some more towns in France. Soldiers, defer the spoil of the city until night: for with these borne be3 4

/. e. Shedding guiltless blood. A daemon who was supposed to attend at call.

SECOND PART OF

fore us, instead of maces, will we ride through the streets; and, at every corner, have them kiss.—Away! [Exeunt. SCENE VIII.—SOUTHWARK.

Alarum. Enter CADE, and all his Babblement. Cade. Up Fish-street! down Saint Magnus' corner! kill and knock down! throw them into Thames!—[A Parley sounded, then a Retreat.'] What noise is this I hear? Dare any be so bold to sound retreat or parley, when I command them kill? Enter BUCKINGHAM, and old CLIFFORD, with Forces. BuckingJiam. Ay, here they be that dare and will disturb thee: Know, Cade, we come ambassadors from the king Unto the commons, whom thou hast,misled; And here pronounce free pardon to them all, That will forsake thee, and go home in peace. Clifford. What say ye, countrymen? will ye relent, And yield to mercy, whilst 'tis offered you; Or let a rabble lead you to your deaths? Who loves the king and will embrace his pardon, Fling up his cap, and say—God save his majesty! Who hateth him, and honours not his father, Henry the fifth, that made all France to quake, Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by. All. God save the king! God save the king! Cade. What, Buckingham, and Clifford, are ye so brave? —And you, base peasants, do ye believe him? will you needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart in Southwark? I thought, ye would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom; but you are all recreants, and dastards; and delight to live in slavery to the nobility. Let them break your backs with burdens, take your houses over your heads, ravish

KING HENRY VI.

16?

your wives and daughters before your faces: For me,— I will make shift for one; and so—A curse 'light upon you all! All. Well follow Cade, well follow Cade. Clifford. Is Cade the son of Henry the fifth, That thus you do exclaim—you'll go with him? Will he conduct you through the heart of France, And make the meanest of you earls and dukes? Alas, he hath no home, no place to fly to; Nor knows he how to live, but by the spoil, Unless by robbing of your friends, and us. Wer t not a shame, that whilst you live at jar, The fearful French, whom you late vanquished, Should make a start o'er seas and vanquish you? Methinks, already, in this civil broil, I see them lording it in London streets, Crying— Villageois ! unto all they meet. Better, ten thousand base-born Cades miscarry, Than you should stoop unto a Frenchman's mercy. To France, to France, and get what you have lost; Spare England, for it is your native coast; Henry hath money, you are strong and manly: God on our side, doubt not of victory. All. A Clifford! a Clifford! well follow the king, and Clifford. Cade. Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro, as this multitude? the name of Henry the fifth hales them to an hundred mischiefs, and makes them leave me desolate. I see them lay their heads together, to surprize me: my sword make way for me, for here is no staying.—Have through the very midst of you! and honour be witness, that no want of resolution in me, but qnly my followers' base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake me to.my heels. [EodL Buckingham. What, is he fled? go some and follow him; And he, that brings his head unto the king. Shall have a thousand crowns for his reward.— [Exeunt some oftlieiru

168

SECOND PART OF

Follow me, soldiers; well devise a mean To reconcile you all unto the king. SCENE IX.—KENEEWORTH

[Exeunt.

Castle.

Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, and SOMERSET, on the Terrace of the Castle. King Henry. Was ever king that joy'd an earthly throne, And could command no more content than I? No sooner was I crept out of my cradle, But I was made a king at nine months old: Was never subject long'd to be a king, As I do long and wish to be a subject. Enter BUCKINGHAM and CLIFFORD. Buckingham. Health, and glad tidings, to your majesty! King Henry. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor, Cade, surpriz'd? Or is he but retir'd to make him strong? Enter, below, a great member of CADE'S Eollowers, with Halters about their Necks. Clifford. He's fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield; And humbly thus, with halters on their necks, Expect your highness' doom of life, or death. King Henry. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting gates, To entertain my vows of thanks and praise! Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives, And show'd how well yon love your prince and country; Continue still in this so good a mind, And Henry, though he be infortunate, Assure yourselves, will never be unkind: And so, with thanks and pardon to you all, I do dismiss you to your several countries. All. God save the king! God save the king!

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169

Enter a MESSENGER, Messenger. Please it your grace to be advertised, The duke of York is newly come from Ireland: And with a puissant, and a mighty power, Of gallowglasses, and stout kernes,5 Is marching hitherward in proud array; And still proclaimeth, as he comes along, His arms are only to remove from thee The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor. King Henry. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and York distressed; Like to a ship, that, having 'scap'd a tempest, Is straightway calm'd and boarded with a pirate: But now6 is Cade driven back, his men dispersed; And now is York in arms to second him.— I pray thee, Buckingham, go forth and meet him; And ask him, what's the reason of these arms. Tell him, I'll send duke Edmund to the Tower;— And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither, Until his army be dismiss'd from him. Somerset. My lord, I'll yield myself to prison willingly, Or unto death, to do my country good. King Henry. In any case, be not too rough in terms; For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language. Buckingham. I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal, As all things should redound unto your good. King Henry. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better; For yet may England curse my wretched reign. [Eoceunt. SCENE X.—KENT.

IDEN'S

Garden.

Enter CADE. Cade. Fye on ambition! fye on myself; that have a sword, and yet am ready to famish! These five days 5

Two orders of foot-soldiers among the Irish.

6

Only just now.

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have I hid me in these woods; and durst not peep out, for all the country is lay'd for me; but now am I so hungry, that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I could stay no longer. Wherefore, on a brick-wall have I climbed into this garden; to see if I can eat grass, or pick a sallet another while, whicli is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. And, I think, this word sallet was born to do me good : for, many a time, but for a sallet,7 my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill; and, many a time, when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in; and now the word sallet must serve me to feed on. Enter IDEN, with SERVANTS. Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the court, And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? This small inheritance, my father left me, Contenteth me, and is worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others' waning; Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy; Sufficeth, that I have maintains my state, And sends the poor well pleased from my gate. Cade. Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave. Ah, villain thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the king for carrying my head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part. Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, I know thee not; Why then should I betray thee? Is't not enough, to break into my garden, And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me, the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms? Cade. Brave thee? ay, by the blest blood that ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and 7

A kind of helmet.

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thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail, may I never eat grass more, Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said while England stands, That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent, Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man. Oppose thy steadfgfet-gazing eyes to mine, See if thou canst outface me with thy looks. Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser; Thy hand is but a finger to my fist; Thy leg a stick compared with this truncheon; My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast; And if mine arm be heaved in the air, Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth. As for more words, whose greatness answers words, Let this my sword report what speech forbears. Cade. By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard.—Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, mayest thou be turned to hobnails. [Theyfight. CADE falls.] O, I am slain! famine, and no other, hath slain me; let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden: and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled. Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor? Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, And hang thee o'er my tomb when I am dead: Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point; But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat, To emblaze the honour that thy master got. Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy victory: Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for I, that never feared any, am vanquish'd by famine, not by valour. [Dies. Iden. How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.

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Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, And there cut off thy most ungracious head; Which I will bear in triumph to the king. \Exit, dragging out the Body.

ACT V. I.—Near SAINT ALBAN'S. The KING'S Camp on one side. On the other, enter YORK attended, with Drum and Colours: his Forces at some distance. York. From Ireland thus comes York, to claim his right, And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head: King, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright, To entertain great England's lawful king. Ah, sancta majestas! who would not buy thee dear? Let them obey, that know not how to rule! This hand was made to handle nought but gold: I cannot give due action to my words, Except a sword, or scepter, balance it. A scepter shall it have, have I a soul; On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France. SCENE

Enter BUCKINGHAM. Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me. The king hath sent him, sure; I must dissemble. Buckingham. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well. York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure? Buckingham. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, To know the reason of these arms in peace; Or why, thou—being a subject as I am,— Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn,

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Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave, Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. York. Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. O, I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint, I am so angry at these abject terms; Aside. And now, like Ajax Telamonius, On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury! I am far better born than is the king; More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts: But I must make fair weather yet a while, Till Henry be more weak, and I more strong.—>/ O Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me, That I have given no answer all this while; My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. The cause why I have brought this army hither Is—to remove proud Somerset from the king, Seditious to his grace, and to the state. Buckingham. That is too much presumption on thy part: But if thy arms be to no other end, The king hath yielded unto thy demand; The duke of Somerset is in the Tower. York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner? Buckingham. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner. York. Then Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers.— Soldiers, I thank you all: disperse yourselves; Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field, You shall have pay, and every thing you wish. And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry, Command my eldest son,—nay, all my sons, As pledges of my fealty and love, I'll send them all as willing as I live; Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have Is his to use, so Somerset may die. Buckingham. York, I commend this kind submission: We twain will go into his highness' tent.

]74

SECOND PART OP

Enter KING HENRY, attended. King Henry. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us, That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? York. In all submission and humility, York doth present himself unto your highness. King Henry. Then what intend these forces thou dost bring ? York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence; And fight against that monstrous rebel, Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited. Enter IDEN, with CADE'S Head. Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean condition, May pass into the presence of a king, Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head, The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. King Henry. The head of Cade ?—Great God, how just art thou!— O, let me view his visage being dead, That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him? Iden. I was, ant like your majesty. King Henry. How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree ? Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name; A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. Buckingham. So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss He were created knight for his good service. King Henry. Iden, kneel down; [He kneels.] Rise up a knight. We give thee for reward a thousand marks; And will, that thou henceforth attend on us. Iden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty, And never live but true unto his liege! King Henry. See, Buckingham! Somerset comes with the queen; Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke*

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Enter QUEEN MARGARET and SOMERSET. Queen Margaret For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, But boldly stand and front him to his face. York. How now! Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts, And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset ?— False king! why hast thou broken faith with me, Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? King did I call thee? no, thou art not king; Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. That head of thine doth not become a crown; Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, And not to grace an awful princely scepter. That gold must round engirt these brows of mine; Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, Is able with the change to kill and cure. Here is a hand to hold a scepter up, And with the same to act controlling laws. Give place; by heaven, thou shalt rule no more O'er him, whom heaven created for thy ruler. Somerset. O monstrous traitor!—I arrest thee, York, Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown: Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace. York. Would'st have me kneel? first let me ask of these, If they can brook I bow a knee to man.— Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail; [Exit an Attendant. I know, ere they will have me go to ward,8 They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement. Queen Margaret. Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain, To say, if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father. 8

Custody, confinement.

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York. 0 blood-bespotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys. Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENET, with Forces, at one side; at the other\ with Forces also, old CLIFFORD, and his Son. See, where they come; I'll warrant they'll make it good. Queen Margaret. And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail. Clifford. Health and all happiness to my lord the king! [Kneels. York. I thank thee, Clifford? Say, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look: We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. Clifford. This is my king, York, I do not mistake; But thou mistak'st me much, to think I do:— To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad? King Henry. Ay, Clifford; a Bedlam and ambitious humour Makes him oppose himself against his king. Clifford. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his. Queen Margaret. He is arrested, but will not obey; His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. York. Will you not, sons? Edward. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve. Richard. And if words will not, then our weapons shall. Clifford. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here! York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so; I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. Call hither to the stake my two brave bears,9 That, with the very shaking of their chains, 9 The Nevils, earls of Warwick, had a bear and ragged staff for their crest.

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They may astonish these fell lurking curs; Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me. Drums. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY, with Forces. Clifford. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death, And manacle the bear-wardx in their chains, If thou dar' st bring them to the baiting-place, Richard. Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur Run back and bite, because he was withheld; Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw, Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cry'd: And such a piece of service will you do, If you oppose yourselves to match lord Warwick. Clifford. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. Clifford. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves. King Henry. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?— Old Salisbury,—shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son!— What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian, And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles ? O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? If it be banish'd from the frosty head, Where shall it find a harbour in the earth?— Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war, And shame thine honourable age with blood? Why art thou old, and want'st experience ? Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me, That bows unto the grave with mickle age. Salisbury. My lord, I have consider'd with myself The title of this most renowned duke; And in my conscience do repute his grace The rightful heir to England's royal seat. 1

VOL. IV.

Bear-keeper. N

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King Henry. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me ? Salisbury. I have. King Henry. Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath? Salisbury. I t is great sin, to swear unto a sin; But greater sin, to keep a sinful oath. Who can be bound by any solemn vow To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, To force a spotless virgin's chastity, To reave the orphan of his patrimony, To wring the widow from her custom'd right; And have no other reason for this wrong, But that he was bound by a solemn oath? Queen Margaret A subtle traitor needs no sophister. King Henry. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hasfc. I am resolv'd for death or dignity. Clifford. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. Warwick. You were best to go to bed, and dream again, To keep thee from the tempest of the field. Clifford. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm, Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, Might I but know thee by thy household badge. Warwick. Now, by my father's badge, old ISTeviTs crest, The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,2 (As on a mountain-top the cedar shows, That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,) Even to affright thee with the view thereof. Clifford. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear, And tread it underfoot with all contempt, Despight the bear-ward that protects the bear. Young Clifford. And so to arms, victorious father, To quell the rebels, and their 'complices. [Exeunt severally. 2

Helmet,

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SCENE II.—SAINT ALBAN'S.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK. Warwick. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls! And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear. Now,—when the angry trumpet sounds alarm, And dead men's cries do fill the empty air, Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me! Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms. Enter YORK. How now, my noble lord; what, all a foot? York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed, But match to match I have encountered him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows, Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so-welL Enter CLIFFORD. Warwick. Of one or both of us the time is come. York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase, For I myself must hunt this deer to death. Warwick. Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st.— As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, It grieves my soul to leave thee uLassail'd. [Exit WARWICK. Clifford. What seest thou in me, York? why dcst thou pause? York. With thy brave bearing should I be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy. Clifford. Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem. But that 'tis shown ignobly, and in treason. York. So let it help me now against thy sword, As I in justice and true right express it! Clifford. My soul and body on the action both!—

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York A dreadful lay! s —address thee instantly, [They fight, and CLIFFORD falls. Clifford. La fin couronne les ceuvres. [Dies. York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. [Exit. Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will! Enter Young CLIFFORD. Young Clifford. Shame and confusion! all is on the rout! Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, Whom angry heavens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance;—Let no soldier fly: He that is truly dedicate to war, Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself, Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour.—O, let the vile world end, 4

[Seeing his dead FatJier.

And the premised flames of the last day Knit earth and heaven together! Now let the general truinpet blow his blast, Particularities and petty sounds To cease! Wast thou ordain'd, dear father, To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve The silver livery of advised age; And in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus To die in ruffian battle?—Even at this sight, My heart is turn'd to stone; and, while 'tis mine, It shall be stony. York not our old men spares; No more will I their babes: tears virginal Shall be to me even as the dew to fire; And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims, Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax. Henceforth, I will not have to do with pity: Meet I an infant of the house of York, Into as many gobbets will I cut it, 3 4

A dreadful wager, a tremendous stake. Sent before their time.

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As wild Medea young Absyrtus did: In cruelty will I seek out my fame. Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house; [Taking up the Body. As did -^Eneas old Anchises bear, So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders; But then JEneas bare a living load, Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit. Enter

RICHARD PLANT AGENET and SOMERSET and SOMERSET is killed.

fighting,

Richard. So, lie thou there;— For, underneath an alehouse' paltry sign, The Castle in Saint Alban's, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in his death.— Sword, hold thy temper: heart, be wrathful still: Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit. Alarums:

Excursions. MARGARET,

Enter KING HENRY, and Others, retreating.

QUEEN

Queen Margaret. Away, my lord! you are slow; for shame, away! King Henry. Can we outrun the heavens ? good Margaret, stay. Queen Margaret. What are you made of? you'll not fight, nor fly : Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, To give the enemy way: and to secure us By what we can, which can no more but fly [Alarum afar ojf. If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape, (As well we may, if not through your neglect,) "We shall to London get: where you are lov'd; And where this breach, now in our fortunes made, May readily be stopp'd.

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Enter Young CLIFFORD. Young Clifford. But that my heart's on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly; But fly you must; uncurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. 5 Away, for your relief! and we will live To see their day, and them our fortune give: Away, my lord, away! [Exeunt. SCENE

III.—Fields near

SAINT ALBAN'S.

Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; t/ien enter YORK, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, WARWICK, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colours. York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him; That winter lion, who, in rage, forgets Aged contusions and all brush of time; 6 And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,7 Repairs him with occasion? this happy day Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, If Salisbury be lost. Richard. My noble father, Three times to-day I holp him to his horse, Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off, Persuaded him from any further act: But still, where danger was, still there I met him: And like rich hangings in a homely house, So was his will in his old feeble body. But, noble as he is, look, where he comes. Enter SALISBURY. Salisbury. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought today; By the mass, so did we all.—I thank you, Richard: God knows, how long it is I have to live; 5 7

6 For parties. i. e. The gradual detrition of time. i. e. The height of youth; the brow of a hill is its summit.

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And it hath pleas'd him, that three times to-day You have defended me from imminent death.— Well, lords, we have not got that which we have: 8 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature.9 York. I,know, our safety is to follow them; For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, To call a present court of parliament. Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth:— What says lord Warwick? shall we after them? Warwick. After them! nay, before them if we can. Now by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day: Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York, Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.— Sound, drums and trumpets:—and to London all: And more such days as these to us befall! [Exeunt. 8

i. e. We have not secured that which we have acquired. * i. c. Being enemies that are likely so soon to rally and recover themselves from this defeat.

THIRD PART OF

KING HENRY VJ.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KING HENRY THE SIXTH. EDWARD, Prince of Wales, his Son. LEWIS THE ELEVENTH, King cf France. DUKE OF SOMERSET, DUKE OF EXETER,

EARL OF WESTMORELAND, LORD CLIFFORD, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, Duke of York. EDWARD, Earl of March, afterwards King

Edward the Fourth, EDMUND, Earl of Rutland, \ his Sons. GEORGE, afterwards Duke of Clarence, RICHARD, afterwards Duke of Gloster, DUKE OF NORFOLK, MARQUIS OF MONTAGUE, EARL OF WARWICK, h of the Duke of York's Party. EARL OF PEMBROKE, LORD HASTINGS, LORD STAFFORD, ) U?xlcs to the Duke of SIR JOHN MORTIMER, SIR HUGH MORTIMER, J HENRY, Earl of Richmond, a Youth. LORD RIVERS, Brother to Lady Grey. SIR WILLIAM STANLEY. SIR JOHN MONTGOMERY. SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE. TUTOR TO RUTLAND. MAYOR OF YORK. LIEUTENANT OF THE TOWER. A NOBLEMAN. Two KEEPERS. A HUNTSMAN. A SON THAT HAS KILLED HIS FATHER. A FATHER THAT HAS KILLED HIS SON. QUEEN MARGARET. LADY GREY, afterwards Queen to Edward BONA, Sister to the French Queen.

the Fourth.

Soldiers, and other Attendants on King Henry and King Edward, Messengers, Watchmen, &c. SCENE—During part of the third act, in France; during all the rest of the play, in England.

THIED PAKT OF

KING HENRY VI. ACT I. The Parliament House. Drums. Some Soldiers of YORK'S Party break in. T/ien, enter the DUKE OP YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Others, with white Roses in their Hats. Warwick, I wonder liow the king escap'd our hands. York. While we pursu d the horsemen of the north, He slily stole away, and left his men: Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat, Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself, Lord Clifford, and lord Stafford, all a-breast, Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in, Were by the swords of common soldiers slain. Edward. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buckingham, Is either slain, or wounded dangerous: 1 cleft his beaver with a downright blow; That this is true, father, behold his blood. [Shoiring his bloody Sword. Montague. And, brother, here's the earl of Wiltshire's blood, [To YORK, showing Ids. Whom I encountered as the battles join'd. Richard. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. [Throwing down the DUKE OF SOMERSET'S Head. SCENE I,—LONDON.

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York Richard hath best deserv'd of all my sons.— "What, is your grace dead, my lord of Somerset? Norfolk Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt! Richard. Thus do I hope to shake king Henry's head. Warwick. And so do I.—Victorious prince of York, Before I see thee seated in that throne Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close. This is the palace of the fearful king, And this the regal seat: possess it, York: For this is thine, and not king Henry's heirs'. York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will; For hither we have broken in by force. Norfolk. We'll all assist you; he that flies,, shall die. York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk,—Stay by me, my lords;— And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night. Warwick. And, when the king comes, offer him no violence, Unless he seek to thrust you out by force. [They retire. York. The queen, this day, here holds her parliament. But little thinks we shall be of her council: By words, or blows, here let us win our right. Richard. Arin'd as we are, let's stay within this house. Warwick. The bloody parliament shall this be call'd, Unless Plantagenet, duke of York, be king: And bashful Henry depos'd, whose cowardice Hath made us by-words to our enemies. York. Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute; I mean to take possession of my right. Warwick. Neither the king, nor he that loves him best, The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.1 I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares:— Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown. [WARWICK leads YORK to the Throne, who seats himself. 1

Hawks had sometimes little bells hung on them, perhaps to dare the birds; that is, to fright them from rising.

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189

Flourish.

Enter KING HENRY, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and Others, with

red Roses in their Hats. King Henry. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, Even in the chair of state! belike, he means, (Back'd by the power of Warwick, that false peer,) To aspire unto the crown, and reign as king.— Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father;— And thine, lord Clifford; and you both have vow'd revenge On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends. Northumberland. If I be not, heavens be reveng'd on me! Clifford. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in. steel. Westmoreland. What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down: My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it. King Henry. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland. Clifford. Patience is for poltroons, and such as he; He durst not sit there had vour father liv'd. My gracious lord, here in the parliament Let us assail the family of York. Northumberland. Well hast thou spoken, cousin, be it so. King Henry. Ah, know you not, the city favours them, And they have troops of soldiers at their beck ? Exeter. But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly. King Henry. Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart To make a shambles of the parliament-house! Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats, Shall be the war that Henry means to use.— [They advance to the DUKE. Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne, And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet; I am thy sovereign.

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York. Thou art deceiv'd, I am thine. Exeter. For shame, come down; he made thee duke of York. York. 'Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was. Exeter. Thy father was a traitor to the crown, Warwick. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown, In following this usurping Henry, Clifford. Whom should he foliow, but his natural king? Warwick. True, Clifford; and that's Richard, duke of York. King Henry. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? York. It must and shall be so. Content thyself. Warwick. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. Westmoreland. He is both king and duke of Lancaster; And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. Warwick. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget, That we are those which chas'd you from the field. And slew your fathers, and with colours spread March'd through the city to the palace gates. Northumberland. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. Westmoreland. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives, Than drops of blood were in my father's Veins. Clifford. Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger, As shall revenge his death, before I stir. Warwick. Poor Clifford! how I scorn his worthless threats! York. Will you, we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. King Henry. What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York; Thy grandfather, Eoger Mortimer, earl of March; I am the son of Henry the fifth,

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191

Who made the dauphin and the French to stoop, And seize! upon their towns and provinces. Warwick. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. King Henry. The lord protector lost it, and not I ; When I was crown'd, I was but nine months old. Richard. You are old enough now, and yet methinks you lose:— Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. Edward. Sweet father, do so; set it on your head. Montague. Good, brother, [To YORK,] as thou lov'st and honour'st arms. Let's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. Richard. Sound drums and trumpets, and the king will fly. York. Sons, peace! King Henry. Peace thou! and give king Henry leave to speak. Wanvick. Plantagenet shall speak first:—hear him, lords; And be you silent and attentive too, For he, that interrupts him, shall not live. King Henry. Think'st thou, that I will leave my kingly throne, Wherein my grandsire, and my father sat? No: first shall war unpeople this my realm; Ay, and their colours—often borne in France; And now in England, to our heart's great sorrow,— Shall be my winding sheet.—Why faint you, lords ? My title's good, and better far than this. Warwick. But prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king. King Henry. Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown. York. 'Twas by rebellion against his king. King Henry. I know not what to say; my title's weak. Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir? York. What then? King Henry. An if he may, then am I lawful king: For Richard, in the view of many lords,

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Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth; "Whose heir my father was, and I am his* York. He rose against him, being his sovereign, And made him to resign his crown perforce. Warwick. Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrained, Think you, 'twere prejudicial to his crown? Exeter. No; for he could not so resign his crown, But that the next heir should succeed and reign. King Henry. Art thou against us, duke of Exeter? Exeter. His is the right, and therefore pardon me. York. Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not? Exeter. My conscience tells me, he is lawful king. King Henry. All will revolt from me, and turn to him. Northumberland. Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay'st, Think not, that Henry shall be so depos'd. Warwick. Depos'd he shall be, in despite of all. Northumberland. Thou art deceiv'd: 'tis not thy southern power, Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,— Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,— Can set the duke up in despite of me. Clifford. King Henry, be thy title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence : May that ground gape; and swallow me alive, Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father! King Henry. O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart! York. Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown:— What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords? Warwick Do right unto this princely duke of York: Or I will fill the house with armed men, And o'er the chair of state where now he sits, Write up his title with usurping blood. [He stamjys, and the SOLDIERS show themselves. Kivg Henry. My lord of Warwick, hear me but one word; Let me, for this my life-time, reign as king.

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193

York. Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs, And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv'st. King Henry. I am content: Richard Plantagenet, Enjoy the kingdom after my decease. Clifford. What wrong is this unto the prince your son ? Warwick. What good is this to England and himself? Westmoreland. Base, fearful, and despairing Henry! Clifford. How hast thou injur'd both thyself and us? Westmoreland. I cannot stay to hear these articles. Northumberland. Nor I. Clifford. Come, cousin, let us tell the queen these news. Westmoreland. Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king, In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides! Northumberland. Be thou a prey unto the house of York, And die in bands for this unmanly deed! Clifford. In dreadful war may'st thou be overcome! Or live in peace, abandon'd and despis'd! [Exeunt NORTHUMBERLAND, CLIFFORD, and WESTMORELAND.

Warwick. Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not. Exeter. They seek revenge and therefore will not yield. King Henry. Ah, Exeter! Warwick. Why should you sigh, my lordi King Henry. Not for myself, lord Warwick, but my son, Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit. But, be it as it may:—I here entail The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever; Conditionally that here thou take an oath To cease this civil war, and, whilst I live, To honour me as thy king and sovereign; And neither by treason, nor hostility, To seek to put me down, and reign thyself. York. This oath I willingly take and will perform. \Coming
O

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King Henry. And long live thou, and these thy forward sons! York. Now York and Lancaster are reconciled. Exeter. Accurs'd be he, that seeks to make them foes! [The LORDS comeforwa/rd. York. Farewell, my gracious lord; I'll to my castle. Warwick. And I'll keep London, with my soldiers. Norfolk. And I to Norfolk with my followers. Montague. And I unto the sea, from whence I came. [Exeunt YORK, and his SONS, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, SOLDIERS, and ATTENDANTS.

King Henry. And I with grief and sorrow to the court. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, and the PRINCE OF WALES. Exeter. Here comes the queen, whose looks bewray her anger: I'll steal away. King Henry. Exeter so will I. [Going. Queen Margaret. Nay, go not from me, I will follow thee. King Henry. Be patient, gentle queen, and I will stay. Queen Margaret. Who can be patient in such extremes? Ah, wretched man! 'would I had died a maid, And never seen thee, never borne thee son, Seeing thou hast prov'd so unnatural a father! Hath he deserv'd to lose his birthright thus? Hadst thou but lov'd him half so well as I ; Or felt that pain, which I did for him once; Or nourished him, as I did with my blood; Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there, Rather than made that savage duke thine heir, And disinherited thine only son. Prince. Father, you cannot disinherit me: If you be king, why should not I succeed? King Henry. Pardon me, Margaret;—pardon me, sweet son;— The earl of Warwick and the duke enforced me. Queen Margaret. Enforced thee! art thou king, and wilt be forc'd?

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I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch! Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me; And given unto the house of York such head, As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance. To entail him and his heirs unto the crown, What is it, but to make thy sepulchre, And creep into it far before thy time? Warwick is chancellor, and the lord of Calais; Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas; The duke is made protector of the realm; And yet shalt thou be safe? such safety finds The trembling lamb environed with wolves. Had I been there, which am a silly woman, The soldiers should have toss'd me on their pikes, Before I would have granted to that act. But thou preferr'st thy life before thine honour: And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself, Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed, Until that act of parliament be repeal'd, Whereby my son is disinherited. The northern lords, that have forsworn thy colours, Will follow mine, if once they see them spread: And spread they shall be; to thy foul disgrace, And utter ruin of the house of York. Thus do I leave thee:—Come, son, let's away; Our army's ready; come, we'll after them. King Henry. Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak. Queen Margaret. Thou hast spoke too much already; get thee gone. King Henry. Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me? Queen Margaret Ay, to be murdered by his enemies. Prince. When I return with victory from the field, I'll see your grace: till then, I'll follow her. Queen Margaret. Come, son, away; we may not linger thus. [Exeunt QUEEN MARGARET and the PRINCE. King Henry. Poor queen! how love to me, and to her son,

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Hath made her break out into terms of rage! Reveng'd may she be on that hateful duke; Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire, Will cost my crown, and, like an empty eagle, Tire 2 on the flesh of me, and of my son! The loss of those three lords torments my heart; I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair; — Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger. Exeter. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. [Easeunt. SCENE

II.—A Room in SANDAL Castle, near WAKEFIELD, in YORKSHIRE.

Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE. Richard. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave. Edward. No, I can better play the orator. Montague. But I have reasons strong and forcible. Enter YORK. York. Why, how now, sons and brother, at a strife? What is your quarrel? how began it first? Edward. No quarrel, but a slight contention. York. About what? Richard. A bout that which concerns your grace, and us; The crown of England, father, which is yours. York. Mine, boy? not till king Henry be dead. Richard. Your right depends not on his life, or death. Edivard. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outran you, father, in the end. York, I took an oath that he should quietly reign. Edward. I'd break a thousand oaths to reign one year. Richard. No; God forbid, your grace should be forsworn. York. I shall be, if I claim by open war. 2

Feck.

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Richard. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak. York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible. Richard. An oath is of no moment, being not took Before a true and lawful magistrate, That hath authority over him that swears: Henry had none, but did usurp the place; Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous. Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think, How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; Within whose circuit is Elysium, And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest, Until the white rose, that I wear, be dyed Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.—• Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this enterprize.— Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk, And tell him privily of our intent.— You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise; In them I trust; for they are soldiers, Witty 3 and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.— While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, But that I seek occasion how to rise; And yet the king not privy to my drift, Nor any of the house of Lancaster? Enter a

MESSENGER.

But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou in such post? Messenger. The queen, with all the northern earls and lords, Intend here to besiege you in your castle: She is hard by with twenty thousand men; And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. 3

Of sound judgmeat.

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York Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou, that we fear them ?— Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;— My Tbrother Montague shall post to London: Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we have left protectors of the king, With powerful policy strengthen themselves, And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. Montague. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not: And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [Exit. Enter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMER. York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles! You are come to Sandal in a happy hour; The army of the queen mean to besiege us. Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in the field. York. What, with five thousand men? Richard. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general; What should we fear?

[A March afar off. Edward. I hear their drums; let's set our men in order; And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. York. Five men to twenty!—though the odds be great, I doubt not, uncle, of our victory. Many a battle have I won in France, When as the enemy hath been ten to one; Why should I not now have the like success? [Alarum. Exeunt. SCENE

III.—Plains near SANDAL Castle.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter RUTLAND, and his TUTOR. Rutland, Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands! Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes!

KING HENRY VI.

199

Enter CLIFFORD, and SOLDIERS. Clifford. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life. As for the brat of this accursed duke, Whose father slew my father,—he shall die. Tutor. And I, my lord, will bear him company. Clifford. Soldiers, away with him. Tutor. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent child, Lest thou be hated both of God and man. [Exit, forced off by SOLDIERS.

Clifford. How now! is he dead already ? Or, is it fear, That makes him close his eyes?—I'll open them. Rutland. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws: And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey; And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.— Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword, And not with such a cruel threat'ning look. Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die;— I am too mean a subject for thy wrath, Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live. Clifford. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter. Rutland. Then let my father's blood open it again; He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him. Clifford. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine, Were not revenge sufficient for me; No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves, And hung their rotten coffins up in chains, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the house of York Is as a fury to torment my soul; And till I root out their accursed line, And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore— [Lifting his Hand. Rutland. 0, let me pray before I take my death:— To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me! Clifford. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

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Rutland. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me? Clifford. Thy father hath. But 'twas ere I was born, Rutland. Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me; Lest, in revenge thereof,—sith God is just,—He be as miserably slain as I. Ah, let me live in prison all my days; And when I give occasion of offence, Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause. Clifford. No cause? Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. [CLIFFORD stabs him. Rutland. Dii/aciant9 laudis summa sit ista turn!* Clifford. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, CongeaVd with this, do make me wipe off both. [Eodt. IV.—The same. Alarum. Enter YORK. York. The army of the queen hath got the field: My uncles both are slain in rescuing me; And all my followers to the eager foe Turn back, andfly,like ships before the wind, Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. My sons—Heaven knows, what hath bechanced them: But this I know—they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown, by life, or death. Three times did Eichard make a lane to me; And thrice cried,—Courage, father ! fight it out! And full as oft came Edward to my side. With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt. In blood of those that had encountered him: And when the hardiest warriors did retire, SCENE

4

Heaven grant that this may be your greatest boast! Ovid. Epist.

KING HENRY VI.

201

Richard cried,—Charge! and give no foot of ground! And cried;—A crown, or else a glorious tomb ! A scepter, or an earthly sepulchre ! With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas! We bodg'd5 again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, And spend her strength with overmatching waves. [A short Alarum within. Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue: And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury: And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury; The sands are number'd that make up my life: Here must I stay, and here my life must end. Enter

QUEEN MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, and SOLDIERS.

Come, bloody Clifford,—rough Northumberland,— I dare your quenchless fury to more rage; I am your butt, and I abide your shot. Northumberland. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. Clifford. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm, With downright payment show'd unto my father. Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car, And made an evening at the noontide point. York. My ashes, as the Phoenix, may bring forth A bird that will revenge upon you all: And, in that hope, I throw mine.eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with. Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? Clifford. So cowardsfight,when they canflyno further; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers. York. 0 Clifford, but bethink thee once again, And in thy thought o'er-ran my former time: And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face; 5

i. e. We boggled, failed.

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THIRD PART OP

And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice, Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this. Clifford. I will not bandy with thee word for word; But buckle with thee blows twice two for one. [Draws. Queen Margaret. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand causes, I would prolong awhile the traitor's life:— Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland. Northumberland. Hold, Clifford; do not honour him so much To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart: What valour were it, when a cur doth grin, For one to thrust his hand between his teeth, When he might spurn him with his foot away? It is war's prize to take all vantages; And ten to one is no impeach of valour. [They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. Clifford. Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin. Northumberland. So doth the coney struggle in the net. [YORK is taken prisoner. York. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd booty; So true men yield, with robbers so o'er-match'd. Northumberland. What would your grace have done unto him now? Queen Margaret. Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland, Come make him stand upon this molehill here, That raught6 at mountains with outstretched arms, Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.— What! was it you that would be England's king? Was't you that revell'd in our parliament, And made a preachment of your high descent ? Where are your mess of sons to back you now? The wanton Edward, and the lusty George? And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy, Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling voice, Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies? Or, with the rest, where is your darling Butlani? 6

Reached.

KING HENRY VI.

203

Look, York; I stain'd this napkin with the blood That valiant Clifford with his rapier's point, Made issue from the bosom of the boy: And if thine eyes can water for his death, I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal. Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly, I should lament thy miserable state. I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York; Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance. What, hath thy fiery heart so parchVI thine entrails, That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death? Why art thou patient, man? thou shouldst be mad; And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. Thou wouldst be fee'd, I see, to make me sport; York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.— A crown for York;—and, lords, bow low to him.— Hold you his hands, whilst I do set it on.— [Putting a paper crown on his Head. Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king! Ay, this is he that took king Henry's chair; And this is he was his adopted heir.— But how is it that great Plantagenet Is crown'd so soon, and broke his solemn oath? As 1 bethink me, you should not be king, Till our king Henry had shook hands with death. And will you pale7 your head in Henry's glory, And rob his temples of the diadem, Now in his life, against your holy oath? O, 'tis a fault too, too unpardonable!— Off with the crown ; and, with the crown, his head; And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead. Clifford. That is my office, for my father's sake. Queen Margaret. Nay, stay; let's hear the orisons he makes. York. She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France, Whose tongue more poisons than the adder's tooth! How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex, 7

Impale, encircle.

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THIRD PART OP

To triumph like an Amazonian trull, Upon their woes, whom fortune captivates? But that thy face is, visor-like, unchanging, Made impudent with use of evil deeds, I would assay, proud queen, to make thee blush: To tell thee whence thou earnest, of whom deriv'd, Were shame enough to shame thee, wert thou Hot shameless. Thy father bears the type8 of king of Naples, Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalem; Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman. Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult ? I t needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud queen; Unless the adage must be verified,— That beggars, mounted, run their horse to death. 5 Tis beauty, that doth oft make women proud; But heaven knows, thy share thereof is small: 'Tis virtue that doth make them most adniir'd; The contrary doth make thee wonder'd at: 'Tis government,9 that makes them seem divine; The want thereof makes thee abominable: Thou art as opposite to every good, As the Antipodes are unto us, Or as the south to the sej^tentrion.1 O, tiger's heart, wrapp'd in a woman's hide! How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child, To bid the father wipe his eyes withal, And yet be seen to bear a woman's face ? Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexible; Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless. Bidst thou me rage? why, now thou hast thy wish: Wouldst have me weep? why, now thou hast thy will: For raging wind blows up incessant showers, And, when the rage allays, the rain begins. These tears are my sweet Rutland's obsequies; And every drop cries vengeance for his death,— 8 1

The distinguishing mark. The north.

9

Regularity of behaviour.

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205

Gainst thee, fell Clifford,—and thee, false Frenchwoman. Northumberland. Beshrew me, but his passions2 move me so, That hardly can I check my eyes from tears. York. That face of his the hungry cannibals Would not have touch'd, would not have stain'd with blood: But you are more Jnhuman, more inexorable,— O, ten times more,—than tigers of Hyrcania. See, ruthless queen, a hapless father's tears: This cloth thou dipp'dst in blood of my sweet boy, And I with tears do wash the blood away. Keep thou the napkin, and go boast of this : [He gives back tJie HandJcerchwf.

And if thou tell'st the heavy story right, Upon my soul, the hearers will shed tears; Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears, And say,—Alas, it was a piteous deed! There, take the crown, and with the crown, my curse; And, in thy need, such comfort come to thee, As now I reap at thy too cruel hand!— Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world; My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads! Northumberland. Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin, I should not for my life but weep with him, To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul. Queen Margaret. What, weeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland ? Think but upon the wrong he did us all, And that will quickly dry thy melting tears. Clifford. Here's for my oath, here's for my father's death. [Stabbing him. Queen Margaret. And here's to right our gentlehearted king. [Stabbing him. York. Open thy gate of mercy, gracious God! My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee. 2 Suffering. [Dies.

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Queen Margaret. Off with his head, and set it on York gates; So York may overlook the town of York. [Exeunt.

ACT IT. SCENE

I.—A Plain near

Drums. Enter

MORTIMER'S CROSS HEREFORDSHIRE.

in

and KICHARD, icith their Forces, marching. Edward. I wonder, how our princely father 'scaped; Or whether he be 'scaped away or no, From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit; Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news; Had he been slain, we should have heard the news; Or, had he 'scap'd, methinks, we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape.— How fares my brother ? why is he so sad ? Richard. I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about; And watch'd him how he singled Clifford forth. Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a lion in a herd of neat :3 Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs; Yvxho having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. So far'd our father with his enemies; So fled his enemies my warlike father; Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. See how the morning opes her golden gates, And takes her farewell of the glorious sun! How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trimm'd like a younker, prancing to his love! Edward. Dazzle mine eyes, or do I see three suns? Richard. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun? EDWARD

3

Neat cattle, cows, oxen, &c.

KING HENRY VI.

207

Not separated with the racking clouds,4 But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. See, see! they join, embrace, and seem to kiss, As if they vow'd some league inviolable: Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. In this the heaven figures some event. Edward. 'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of. I think it cites us, brother, to the field; That we, the sons of brave Plantagenet, Each one already blazing by our meeds,5 Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together, And overshine the earth, as this the world. Whatever it bodes, henceforward will I bear Upon my target three fair shining suns. Enter a MESSENGER, But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue? Messenger. Ah, one that was a woful looker on, When as the noble duke of York was slain, Your princely father, and my loving lord. Edward. O, speak no more! for I have heard too much. Richard. Say how he died, for I will hear it all. Messenger. Environed he was with many foes; And stood against them as the hope of Troy6 Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds; And many strokes, though with a little axe, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. By many hands your father was subdu'd; But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford, and the queen: Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite; Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept, The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks, A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain: 4

i. e. The clouds in rapid tumultuary motion.

5

Merit.

6

Hector.

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TH1HD PART OF

And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain, The saddest spectacle that e'er I yiew'd. Edward. Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon; Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay!— O Clifford, boist'rous Clifford, thou hast slain The flower of Europe for his chivalry; And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him, For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd thee!— Now my soul's palace has become a prison: Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest: For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, O never, shall I see more joy. Richard. I cannot weep: for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden, For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, And burn me up with flames, that tears would quench. To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge for me!— Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, Or die renowned by attempting it. Edward. His name that valiant duke hath left with thee ; His dukedom and his chair with me is left. Richard. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun: For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; Or that is thine, or else thou wert not his. March. Enter WARWICK and MONTAGUE, with Forces. Warwick How now, fair lords? "What fare? what news abroad? Richard. Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,

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209

The words would add more anguish than the wounds. 0 valiant lord, the duke of York is slain. Edward. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet Which held thee dearly, as his very soul, Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. Warwick. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears: And now, to add more measure to your woes, 1 come to tell you things since then befalVn. After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought, Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp, Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run, Were brought me of your loss, and his depart. I then in London, keeper of the king, Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends* And very well appointed, as I thought, March'd towards Saint Alban's to intercept the queenf Bearing the king in my behalf along: For by my scouts I was advertised, That she was coming with a full intent To dash our late decree in parliament, Touching king Henry's oath, and your succession. Short tale to make,—we at Saint Alban's met, Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought: But, whether 'twas the coldness of the king, Who look'd fall gently on his warlike queen, That robb'd my soldiers of their hated spleen; Or whether 'twas report of her success; Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Who thunders to his captives—blood and death, I cannot judge: but, to conclude with truth, Their weapons like to lightning came and went; Our soldiers—like the night-owl's lazy flight, Or like a lazy thrasher with a flail,— Fell gently down, as if they struck their frienda I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause, With promise of high pay, and great rewards: But all in vain; they had no heart to fight, And we, in them no hope to win the day, So that we fled; the king unto the queen; VOL. IV.

P

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THIRD PART OF

Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself, In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you; For in the marches here, we heard you were, Making another head to fight again. Edward. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England? Warwick. Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers: And for your brother,—he was lately sent From your kind aunt, duchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war. Richard. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled: Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire. Wanoick. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear: For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful scepter from his fist; Were he as famous and as bold in war, As he is fam'd for mildness, peace and prayer. Richard. I know it well, lord Warwick: blame me not; 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak. But, in this troublous time, what's to be clone? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, And wrap our bodies in black mourning-gowns, NumVring our Ave-Maries with our beads? Or shall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the last, say—Ay, and to it, lords. Wanoick. Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out; And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, lords. The proud insulting queen, With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many more proud birds, Have wrought the easy melting king like wax He swore consent to your succession,

KING HENRY VI.

211

His oath enrolled in the parliament; And now to London all the crew are gone, To frustrate both his oath, and what beside May make against the house of Lancaster. Their power, 1 think, is thirty thousand strong: Now, if the help of Norfolk, and myself, With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March, Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure, Will but amount to five and twenty thousand, Why, Via ! to London will we march amain; And once again bestride our foaming steeds, And once again cry—Charge upon our foes! But never once again turn back and fly. Richard. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick speak; Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, That cries—Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. Edward. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; And when thou fall'st (as heaven forbid the hour!) Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend! Warwick. No longer earl of March, but duke of York; The next degree is, England's royal throne: For king of England shalt thou be proclaim'd In every borough as we pass along: And he that throws not up his cap for joy, Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head. King Edward,—valiant Richard,—Montague,— Stay we no longer dreaming of renown, But sound the trumpets, and about our task. Richard. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel, (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,) I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine. Edward. Then strike up, drums—God, and saint George, for us! Enter a

MESSENGER.

Warwick. How now ? what news ? Messenger. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by me,

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The queen is coming with a puissant host; And craves your company for speedy counsel. Warwick. Why then it sorts,7 brave warriors: Let's [Exeunt. away. SCENE

II.—Before

YORK.

Enter

KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, the PRINCE OF WALES, CLIFFORD, and NORTHUMBERLAND, with

Forces. Queen Margaret. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? King Henry. Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck: To see this sight, it irks my very soul.— Withhold revenge, great God! 'tis not my fault, Not wittingly have I infringed my vow. Clifford. My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity, must be laid aside. To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his, that spoils her young before her face. Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? Not he, that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on; And doves will peck, in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown, Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows : He but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue, like a loving sire ; Thou, being a king, bless'd with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, Which argued thee a most unloving father. Unreasonable creatures feed their young: 7

Why then things are as they should be.

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213

And though man's face be fearful to their eyes, Yet in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight,) Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young's defence ? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father's fault; And long hereafter, say unto his child,—. What my great-grandfather and grandsire got, My careless father fondly^ gave away? Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; And let his manly face, which promiseth Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart, To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him. King Henry. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear,— That things ill got had ever bad success? I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; And would, my father had left me no more! For all the rest is held at such a rate, As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, Than in possession any jot of pleasure. Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know, How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! Queen Margaret. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint. You promis'd knighthood to our forward son; Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently.— Edward, kneel down. King Henry. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And learn this lesson,—Draw thy sword in right. Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, And in that quarrel use it to the death. 8

Foolishly.

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Clifford. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. Royal commanders, be in readiness: For, with a band of thirty thousand men, Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York; And, in the towns as they do march along, Proclaims him king, and many fly to him: Darraign your battle,9 for they are at hand, Clifford. I would your highness would depart the field; The queen hath best success when you are absent. Queen Margaret. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. King Henry. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. Northumberland. Be it with resolution, then, to fight. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George! March

Enter

EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, WARWICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers.

Edward. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, And set thy diadem upon my head; Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? Queen Margaret. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king? Edward. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent: Since when, his oath is broke: for, as I hear, You—that are king, though he do wear the crown,— Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament, To blot out me, and put his own son in. Clifford. And reason too; Who should succeed the father, but the son? 9

i. e. Arrange your order of battle.

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215

Richard. Are you there, butcher?—O, I cannot speak! Clifford. Ay, crook-back; here I stand to answer thee, Or any he the proudest of thy sort. Richard. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? Clifford. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. Ricliard. For heaven's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. Wanvick. "What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? Queen Margaret. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick? dare you speak? When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, Your legs did better service than your hands. Warwick. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. Clifford. You said so much before, and yet you fled. Warwick. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. Northumberland. No, nor your manhood, that durst make you stay. Richard. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;— Break off the parle: for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swollen heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. Clifford. I slew thy father: Call'st thou him a child? Richard. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous coward, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. King Henry. Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak. Queen Margaret. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. King Henry. I pr'ythee, give no limits to my tongue; I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. Clifford. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting here, Cannot be cur'd by words; therefore be still.

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Richard. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword : By Him that made us all, I am resolved,1 That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. Edward. Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no? A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown. Warwick. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; For York in justice puts his armour on. Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is right, There is no wrong, but every thing is right. Richard. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands; For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue. Queen Margaret. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor dam; But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatick, Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. Richard. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,2 Whose father bears the title of a king, (As if a channel should be called the sea,) Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extrauglit, To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? Edward. Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Although thy husband may be Menelaus; And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd By that false woman, as this king by thee. His father revell'd in the heart of France, And tam'd the king, and made the dauphin stoop; And had he matched according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day: But, when he took a beggar to his bed, And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day; Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, That wash'd his father s fortunes forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; 1

It is my firm persuasion.

2 Gilding.

KING HENRY VI.

217

And we, in pity of the gentle king, Had slipp'd our claim until another age. George. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root: And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike, We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. Edward. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.— Sound trumpets!—let our bloody colours wave !— And either victory, or else a grave. Queen Margaret. Stay, Edward. Edward. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay; These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. [Exeunt. SCENE

III.—A Field of Battle between

TOWTON

and

SAXTON, in YORKSHIRE.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter "WARWICK. Warwick. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe: For strokes received, and many blows repaid, Have robVd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while. Enter EDWARD, running. Edward. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death: For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded, Warwick. How now, my lord ? what hap? what hope of good ? Enter GEORGE. George. Our hap is loss, our houe but sad despair,

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Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us: What counsel give you, whither shall we fly? Edwwrd. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. Enter KICHARD. Richard. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance: And in the very pangs of death, he cried,— Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,— Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death! So underneath the belly of their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. Warwick. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage ? And look upon, as if the tragedy Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? Here on my knee I vow to God above, I'll never pause again, never stand still, Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, Or fortune given me measure of revenge. Edward. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine; And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings! Beseeching thee,—if with thy will it stands, That to my foes this body must be prey,— Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!— Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth. Richard. Brother, give me thy hand;—and, gentle Warwick,

KING HENRY VI.

210

Let me embrace thee in my weary arms:— I, that did never weep, now melt with woe, That winter should cut off our spring-time so. Warwick Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, farewell. George. Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars, that will stand to us; And if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games: This may plant courage in their quailing breasts; For yet is hope of life and victory.— Fore-slow3 no longer, make we hence amain. [Exeunt. IV.—The same. Another Part of the Field. Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFOKD. Richard. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone: Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall. Clifford. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone : This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York; And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and brother, To execute the like upon thyself; And so have at thee. SCENE

[Tliey fight. WARWICK enters; CLIFFORD flies.

Richard. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Uxeunt. V.—Another Part of the Field. Alarum. Enter KING HENRY. King Henry. This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light; SCENE

3

Be dilatory.

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What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind: Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind: Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; Now, one the better; then, another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered: So is the equal poise of this fell war. Here on this molehill will I sit me down. To whom God will, there be the victory! For Margaret, my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle; swearing both, They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead! if God's good will were so: For what is in this world, but grief and woe ? Alas! methinks, it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run: How many make the hour fall complete, How many hours bring about the day, How many days will linish up the year, How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. ,Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely!

KING HENRY VI.

221

Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? O, yes it doth: a thousand fold it doth. And to conclude,—the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him. Alarum.

Enter a SON that has killed his Fatlier, dragging in the dead Body.

Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody.— This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, May be possessed with some store of crowns: Ajid I, that haply take them from him now, May yet ere night yield both my life and them Co some man else, as this dead man doth me.— Who's this?—O Heaven! it is my father's face, Whom in this conflict I unawares have kill'd. O heavy times, begetting such events! From London by the king was I press'd forth; My father, being the earl of Warwick's man, Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, Have by my hands of life bereaved him.— Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did!— And pardon, father, for I knew not thee!— My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. King Henry. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.— Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear;

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And let our hearts and eyes, like civil wars, Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief. Enter a

who has killed his Son, with the Body in his arms. Father. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold; For I have bought it with an hundred blows.— But let me see:—is this our foeman's face? Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!— Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise, Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart!— O, pity, God, this miserable age!— What stratagems,4 how fell, how butcherly, Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!— O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! King Henry. Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! 0, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!— The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatal colours of our striving houses: The one, his purple blood right well resembles; The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present: Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied?. Fatlier. How will my wife, for slaughter of my so Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied? Xing Henry. How will the country, for these wofa chances, Misthink the king, and not be satisfied? Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death? FATHER

4

i. e. Dreadful events.

KING HENRY VI.

223

Father. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son? King Henry. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects' woe? Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. [Exit, with the Body. Father. These arms of mine shall be thy windingsheet ; My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre: For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; And so obsequious5 will thy father be, Sad for the loss of thee, having no more, As Priam was for all his valiant sons. I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, For I have murder'd where I should not kill. [Exit, with the Body* King Henry. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, Here sits a king more woful than you are, Alarums: Excursions.

Enter

QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE OF WALES, and EXETER.

Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. Queen Margaret. Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick post amain: Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds Having the fearful flying hare in sight, With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. Exeter. Away! for vengeance comes along with them: Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; Or else come after, I'll away before. King Henry. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter; 5

Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites.

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Not that I fear to stay, but love to go Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! [Exeunt. SCENE

VI.—The same.

A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded. Clifford. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light. 0, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow, More than my body's parting with my soul. My love, and fear, glu'd many friends to thee; And now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York, The common people swarm like summer flies: And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun? And who shines now but Henry's enemies? 0 Phoebus! hadst thou never given consent That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds, Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth: And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do, Or as thy father, and his father did, Giving no ground unto the house of York, They never then had sprung like summer flies; 1, and ten thousand in this luckless realm, Had left no mourning widows for our death, And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: The foe is merciless, and will not pity; For, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity The air hath got into my deadly wounds, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint:— Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest; 1 stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.

[He faints.

KING HENRY VI,

225

Alarum and Retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers. Edward. Now breathe we, lords; good fortune bids us pause, And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.— Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen;— That led calm Henry, though he were a king, As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust, Command an argosy to stem the waves. But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? Warwick. No, 'tis impossible he should escape: For though before his face I speak the words, Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave: And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. [CLIFFORD groans and dies. Edward. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave ? Richard. A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. Edward. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us'd. Richard. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, But set his murdering knife unto the root From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, I mean our princely father, duke of York. Warwick. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, Your father's head, which Clifford placed there: Instead whereof, let this supply the room; Measure for measure must be answered. Edward. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, That nothing sung but death to us and ours: Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. [Attendants bring the Body forward. VOL.

iv.

Q

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Warwick I think his understanding is bereft:— Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?— Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. Richard. O, 'would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, Because he would avoid such bitter taunts, Which in the time of death he gave our father. George. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words.6 Richard. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Edward. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. Warwick. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. George. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. Richard. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. Edward. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. George. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now? Warwick. They mock thee, Clifford! swear as thou wast wont. Richard. What, not an oath? nay then the world goes hard, When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath:— I know by that, he's dead; And, by my soul, If this right hand would buy two hours' life, That I in all despite might rail at him, This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing blood Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst York and young Rutland could not satisfy. Wanoick. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor s head, And rear it in the place your father's stands.— And now to London with triumphant march, There to be crowned England's royal king; From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, And ask the lady Bona for thy queen: So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again; 6

Sour words: words of asperity.

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227

For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine ears. First, will I see the coronation; And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. Edward. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be: For on thy shoulder do I build my seat; And never will I undertake the thing, Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.— Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster;— And George, of Clarence—Warwick, as ourself, Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. Richard. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of Gloster; For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous. Warwick. Tut, that's a foolish observation; Richard be duke of Gloster: Now to London, To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt.

ACT III. I.—A Chase in the North of ENGLAND. Enter two KEEPERS, with Cross-bows in their Hands. 1 Keeper. Under this thick-grown brake well shroud ourselves; For through this laund7 anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. 2 Keeper. I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. 1 Keeper. That cannot be; the noise of thy crossbow Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: And, for the time shall not seem tedious, I'll tell thee what befell me on a day, In this self-place where now we mean to stand. 2 Keeper. Here comes a man, lets stay till he be past. SCENE

7

A plain extended between wocds.

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Enter KING HENRY, disguised, with a Prayer-booh King Henry. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. No Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; Thy place is fill'd, thy scepter wrung from thee, Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed: No bending knee will call thee Caesar now, No humble suitors press to speak for right, No, not a man comes for redress of thee, For how can I help them, and not myself? 1 Keeper. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. King Henry. Let me embrace these sour adversities : For wise men say, it is the wisest course. 2 Keeper. Why linger we ? let us lay hands upon him. 1 Keeper. Forbear a while : we'll hear a little more. King Henry. My queen and son, are gone to France for aid; And as I hear the great commanding Warwick Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward: If this news be true, Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost; For Warwick is a subtle orator, And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. By this account, then, Margaret may win him; For she's a woman to be pitied much: Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn; And Nero will be tainted with remorse, To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give: She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry; He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says—her Henry is depos'd; He smiles, and says—his Edward is install'd ;

KING HENRY VI.

229

That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more: Whiles Warwick tells his titles, smooths the wrong, Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, With promise of his sister, and what else, To strengthen and support king Edward's place. O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, Art then forsaken as thou went'st forlorn. 2 Keeper. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings and queens'? King Henry. More than I seem, and less than I was born to: A man at least, for less I should not be; And men may talk of kings, and why not I ? 2 Keeper. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. King Henry. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough. 2 Keeper. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown % King Henry. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd content; A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. 2 Keeper. Well, if you be a king crown'd with content, Your crown content, and you, must be contented To go along with us: for, as we think, You are the king, king Edward hath depos'd; And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, Will apprehend you as his enemy. King Henry. But did you never swear, and break an oath? 2 Keeper. No, never such an oath, nor will not now. King Henry. Where did you dwell, when I was king of England? 2 Keeper. Here in this country, where we now remain. King Henry. I was anointed king at nine months old; My father and my grandfather, were kings;

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And you were sworn true subjects unto me: And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths? 1 Keeper. No; For we were subjects but while you were king. King Henry. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man? Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear. Look, as I blow this feather from my face, And as the air blows it to me again, Obeying with my wind when I do blow, And yielding to another when it blows, Commanded always by the greater gust ; Such is the lightness of you common men. But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; And be you kings; command and 111 obey. 1 Keeper. We are true subjects to the king, king Edward. King Henry. So would you be again to Henry, If he were seated as king Edward is. 1 Keeper. We charge you in God's name and in the kings, To go with us unto the officers. King Henry. In God's name lead; your king's name be obey'd: And what God will, then let your king perform; And what he will, I humbly yield unto. [Exeunt. SCENE II.—LONDON.

A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, and LADY GREY.

King Edward. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Alban's field This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain, His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror: Her suit is now, to repossess those lands; Which we in justice cannot well deny,

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Because in quarrel of the house of York The worthy gentleman did lose his life, Gloster. Your highness shall do well to grant her suit; It were dishonour, to deny it her. King Edward. It were no less; but yet I'll make a pause. Gloster. Yea! is it so? I see the lady hath a thing to grant, Before the king will grant her humble suit. Clarence. He knows the game; How true he keeps Aside. the wind? Aside. Gloster. Silence! King Edward. "Widow, we will consider of your suit; And come some other time, to know our mind. Lady Grey. Right gracious lord, I cannot brook delay: May it please your highness to resolve me now; And what your pleasure is, shall satisfy me. Gloster. [Aside.'] Ay, widow? then 111 warrant you all your lands, An if what pleases him, shall pleasure you. King Edward. How many children hast thou, widow? tell me. Lady Grey. Three, my most gracious lord. King Edivard. 'Twere pity they should lose their father's land. Lady Grey. Be pitiful, dread lord, and grant it then. King Edward. Lords, give us leave; 111 try this widow's wit. Gloster. Ay, good leave have you; for you will have leave, Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch. [GLOSTER

and CLARENCE retire to the other side,

King Edward. Now tell me, madam, do you love your children ? Lady Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself. King Edward. And would you not do much to do them good? Lady Grey. To do them good, I would sustain some harm.

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King Edward. Then get your husband's lands, to do them good. Lady Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty. King Edward. I'll tell you how these lands are to be got. Lady Grey. So shall you bind me to your highness' service. King Edward. What service wilt thou do me, if I give them? Lady Grey. What you command, that rests in me to do. King Edward. But you will take exceptions to my boon. Lady Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot do it. King Edward. Ay, but thou canst do what I mean to ask. Lady Grey. Why, then I will do what your grace commands. Gloster. He plies her hard; and much rain wears the marble. [Aside. Clarence. As red as fire! nay, then her wax must melt. [Aside. Lady Grey. Why stops my lord ? shall I not hear my task? King Edward. An easy task: 'tis but to love a king. Lady Grey. That's soon perform'd, because I am a subject. King Edward. Why then, thy husband's lands I freely give thee. Lady Grey. I take my leave with many thousand thanks. Glosler. The match is made; she seals it with a curt'sy. King Edward. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of love I mean. Lady Grey. The fruits of love I mean, my loving liege. King Edward. Ay, but, I fear me, in another sense. What love, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?

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Lady Grey. My love till death, my humble thanks, my prayers; That love, which virtue begs, and virtue grants. King Edward. No, by my troth, I did not mean such love. Lady Grey. Why then you mean not as I thought you did. King Edward. But now you partly may perceive my mind. Lady Grey. My mind will never grant what I perceive Your highness aims at, if I aim aright. King Edward. Why, then thou shalt not have thy husband's lands. Lady Grey. Why, then mine honesty shall be my dower; For by that loss I will not purchase them. King Edward. Therein thou wrongest thy children mightily. Lady Grey. Herein your highness wrongs both them and me. But, mighty lord, this merry inclination Accords not with the sadness of my suit ; Please you, dismiss me, either with ay, or no. King Edward. Ay; ifthouwilt sayay, to my request: No; if thou dost say no, to my demand. Lady Grey. Then, no, my lord. My suit is at an end. Gloster. The widow likes him not; she knits her brows. [Aside. Clarence. He is the bluntest wooer in Christendom. [Aside. King Edward. [Aside.] Her looks do argue her replete with modesty; Her words do show her wit incomparable; All her perfections challenge sovereignty: One way, or other, she is for a king; And she shall be my love, or else my queen.— Say, that king Edward take thee for his queen 1 Lady Grey. 'Tis better said than done, my gracious lord:

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I am a subject fit to jest withal, But far unfit to be a sovereign. King Edwcurd. Sweet widow, by my state I swear to thee, I speak no more than what my soul intends; And that is to enjoy thee for my love. Lady Grey. And that is more than I will yield unto. I know, I am too mean to be your queen; And yet too good to be your concubine. King Edward. You cavil, widow; I did mean my queen. Lady Grey. 'Twill grieve your grace, my sons should call you—father. King Edward. No more, than when thy daughters call thee mother. Answer no more, for thou shalt be my queen.— Brothers, you muse what chat we two have had. Gloster. The widow likes it not, for she looks sad. King Edward. You'd think it strange if I should marry her. Clarence. To whom, my lord? King Edward. Why Clarence, to myself. Gloster. That would be ten days' wonder, at the least. Clarence. That's a day longer than a wonder lasts. Gloster. By so much is the wonder in extremes. King Edward. Well, jest on, brothers, T can tell you both, Her suit is granted for her husband's lands. Enter a NOBLEMAN. Nobleman. My gracious lord, Henry your foe is taken, And brought your prisoner to your palace gate. King Edward. See that he be convey'd unto the Tower.— And go we, brothers, to the man that took him, To question of his apprehension.— Widow, go you along; lords, use her honourable. [Exeunt KING EDWARD, LADY GREY, CLARENCE, and LORD.

KING KENRY VI.

Gloster. Ay, Edward will use women honourably. 'Would he were wasted, marrow, bones, and all, That from his loins no hopeful branch may spring, To cross me from the golden time I look for! And yet, between my soul's desire and me, (The lustful Edward's title buried,) Is Clarence, Henry, and his son young Edward, And all the unlook'd-for issue of their bodies, To take their rooms, ere I can place myself: A cold premeditation for my purpose! WTiy, then I do but dream on sovereignty; Like one that stands upon a promontory, And spies a far-off shore where he would tread, Wishing his foot were equal with his eye; And chides the sea that sunders him from thence, Saying—he'll lade it dry to have his way: So do I wish the crown, being so far off; And so I chide the means that keep me from i t ; And so I say—I'll cut the causes off, Flattering me with impossibilities.— My eye's too quick, my heart o'erweens too much, Unless my hand and strength could equal them. Well, say there is no kingdom then for Richard; What other pleasure can the world afford? I l l deck my body in gay ornaments, And witch sweet ladies with my words and looks, O miserable thought! and more unlikely, Than to accomplish twenty golden crowns! Why, love forswore me in my mother's womb : And for I should not deal in her soft laws She did corrupt frail nature with some bribe To shrink mine arm up like a wither'd shrub; To make an envious mountain on my back; Where sits deformity to mock my body; To shape my legs of an unequal size; To disproportion me in every part, Like to a chaos, or an unlick'd bear-whelp, That carries no impression like the dam. And am I then a man to be belov'd?

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O, monstrons fault, to harbour such a thought! Then, since this earth affords no joy to me, But to command, to check, to o'erbear such As are of better person than myself, I'll make my heaven—to dream upon the crown; And, whiles I live, to account this world but hell, Until my mis-shap'd trunk, that bears this head, Be round impaled8 with a glorious crown. And yet I know not how to get the crown, For many lives stand between me and home: And I,—like one lost in a thorny wood, That rents the thorns, and is rent with the thorns; Seeking a way, and straying from the way; Not knowing how to find the open air, But toiling desperately to find it out,— Torment myself to catch the English crown: And from that torment I will free myself, Or hew my way out with a bloody axe. "Why, I can smile, and murder while I smile; And cry, content, to that which grieves my heart, And wet my cheeks with artificial tears, And frame my face to all occasions. I'll drown more sailors than the mermaid shall; I'll slay more gazers than the basilisk; I'll play the orator as well as Nestor, Deceive more slily than Ulysses could, And, like a Sinon, take another Troy. I can add colours to the cameleon; Change shapes, with Proteus, for advantages, And set the murd'rous Machiavel to school. Can I do this, and cannot get a crown? Tut! were it further off, I'd pluck it down [Exit. 8

Encircled,

KING HENRY VL SCENE III.—FRANCE.

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A Room in the Palace.

Flourish.

Enter LEWIS the FRENCH KING, and LADY BONA, attended; the KING takes his state. Then enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD her son, and tlie EARL OF OXFORD.

King Lewis. Fair queen of England, worthy Margaret, [Rising. Sit down with us; ib ill befits thy state, And birth, that thou shouldst stand while Lewis doth sit. Queen Margaret. No, mighty king of France; now Margaret Must strike her sail, and learn a while to serve, Where kings command. I was, I must confess, Great Albion's queen in former golden days: But now mischance hath trod my title down, And with dishonour laid me on the ground, Where I must take like seat unto my fortune, And to my humble seat conform myself. King Lewis. Why, say, fair queen, whence springs this deep despair? Queen Margaret. From such a cause as fills mine eyes with tears, And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares. King Leivis. Whate'er it be, be thou still like thyself, And sit thee by our side: yield not thy neck [Seats her hy him. To fortune's yoke, but let thy dauntless mind Still ride in triumph over all mischance. Be plain, queen Margaret, and tell thy grief; It shall be eas'd, if France can yield relief. Queen Margaret. Those gracious words revive my drooping thoughts, And give my tongue-tied sorrows leave to speak. Now, therefore, be it known to noble Lewis,— That Henry, sole possessor of my love, Is, of a king, become a banish'd man, And forc'd to live in Scotland a forlorn;

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While proud ambitious Edward duke of York, Usurps the regal title, and the seat Of England's true-anointed lawful king. This is the cause, that I, poor Margaret,— With this my son, prince Edward, Henry's heir,— Am come to crave thy just and lawful aid; And, if thou fail us, all our hope is done: Scotland hath will to help, but cannot help; Our people and our peers are both misled, Our treasure seiz'd, our soldiers put to flight, And, as thou seest, ourselves in heavy plight. King Lewis. Renowned queen, with patience calm the storm. While we bethink a means to break it off. Queen Margaret. The more we stay, the stronger grows our foe. King Lewis. The more I stay, the more I'll succour thee. Queen Margaret 0, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow: And see, where comes the breeder of my sorrow. Enter WARWICK, attended. King Lewis. What's he, approacheth boldly to our presence ? Queen Margaret. Our earl of Warwick, Edward's greatest friend. King Lewis. Welcome, brave Warwick! What brings thee to France? [Descending front his state. QUEEN MARGARET rises. Queen Margaret. Ay, now begins a second storm to rise; For this is he, that moves both wind and tide. Wanvick. From worthy Edward, king of Albion, My lord and sovereign, and thy vowed friend, I come,—in kindness, and unfeigned love,— First, to do greetings to thy royal person; And, then, to crave a league of amity; And, lastly, to confirm that amity With nuptial knot, if thou vouchsafe to grant

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That virtuous lady, Bona, thy fair sister, To England's king in lawful marriage. Queen Margaret If that go forward, Henry's hope is done. Warwick. And, gracious madam, [To BONA,] in our king's behalf, I am commanded, with your leave and favour, Humbly to kiss your hand, and with my tongue To tell the passion of my sovereign's heart: Where fame, late entering at his heedful ears, Hath plac'd thy beauty's image, and thy virtue. Queen Margaret. King Lewis,—and lady Bona,— hear me speak, Before you answer Warwick. His demand Springs not from Edward's well-meant honest love, But from deceit, bred by necessity; For how can tyrants safely govern home Unless abroad they purchase great alliance? To prove him tyrant, this reason may suffice,— That Henry liveth still: but were he dead, Yet here prince Edward stands, king Henry's son. Look therefore, Lewis, that by this league and marriage Thou draw not on thy danger and dishonour: For though usurpers sway the rule awhile, Yet heavens are just, and time suppresseth wrongs. Warwick. Injurious Margaret. Prince. And why not queen ? Warwick. Because thy father Henry did usurp; And thou no more art prince, than she is queen. Oxford. Then Warwick disannuls great John of Gaunt, Which did subdue the greatest part of Spain ; And after John of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth, Whose wisdom was a mirror to the wisest; And, after that wise prince, Henry the Fifth, Who by his prowess conquered all France: From these our Henry lineally descends, Warwick. Oxford, how haps it, in this smooth discourse, You told not, how Henry the Sixth hath lost All that which Henry the Fifth had gotten?

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Methinks, these peers of France should smile at that. But for the rest,—You tell a pedigree Of threescore and two years; a silly time To make prescription for a kingdom's worth. Oxford. Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy liege, Whom thou obeyedst thirty and six years, And not bewray thy treason with a blush ? Warwick. Can Oxford, that did ever fence the right, Now buckler falsehood with a pedigree? For shame, leave Henry, and call Edward king. Oxford. Call him my king, by whose injurious doom My elder brother, the lord Aubrey Yere, Was done to death? and more than so my father, Even in the downfall of his mellow'd years, When nature brought him to the door of death? No, Warwick, no; while life upholds this arm, This arm upholds the house of Lancaster. Warwick. And I the house of York. King Lewis. Queen Margaret, prince Edward, and Oxford, Vouchsafe, at our request, to stand aside, While I use further conference with Warwick. Queen Margaret. Heaven grant that Warwick's words bewitch him not! [Retiring with the PRINCE and OXFORD. Xing Lewis. Now, Warwick, tell me, even upon thy conscience, Is Edward your true king? for I were loath, To link with him that were not lawful chosen. Warwick. Thereon I pawn my credit and mine honour. King Lewis. But is he gracious in the people's eye I Warwick. The more, that Henry was unfortunate. King Lewis. Then further,—all dissembling set aside, Tell me for truth the measure of his love Unto our sister Bona. Warwick. Such it seems, As may beseem a monarch like himself. Myself have often heard him say, and swear,—

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That this his love was an eternal plant; Whereof the root was fix'd in virtue's ground, The leaves and fruit maintained with beauty's sun, Exempt from envy, but not from disdain, Unless the lady Bona quit his pain. King Lewis. Now sister, let us hear your firm resolve. Bona. Your grant, or your denial, shall be mine. Yet I confess, [To WARWICK,] that often ere this day, When I have heard your king's desert recounted, Mine ear hath tempted judgment to desire. King Lewis. Then, Warwick, thus,—Our sister shall be Edward's; And now forthwith shall articles be drawn Touching the jointure that your king must make, Which with her dowry shall be counterpois'd :— Draw near, queen Margaret; and be a witness, That Bona shall be wife to the English king. Prince. To Edward, but not to the English king. Queen Margaret. Deceitful Warwick! it was thy device By this alliance to make void my suit; Before thy coming, Lewis was Henry's friend. King Lewis. And still is friend to him and Margaret. But if your title to the crown be weak,— As may appear by Edward's good success,— Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd From giving aid, which late I promised. Yet shall you have all kindness at my hand, That your estate requires, and mine can yield. Warwick. Henry now lives in Scotland, at his ease; Where having nothing, nothing he can lose. And as for you yourself, our quondam queen,— You have a father able to maintain you; And better 'twere you troubled him than France. Queen Margaret. Peace, impudent and shameless Warwick, peace; Proud setter-up and puller-down of kings I will not hence, till with my talk and tears, Both full of truth, I make king Lewis behold VOL. IV.

R

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Thy sly conveyance,9 and thy lord's false love; Tor both of you are birds of self-same feather. [A Horn sounded within. King Lewis. Warwick, this is some post to us, or thee. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. My lord ambassador, these letters are for you; Sent from your brother, marquis Montague. These from our king unto your majesty.— And, madam, these for you; from whom I know not. [To MARGARET. Tliey all read tJwir Letters. Oxford. I like it well, that our fair queen and mistress Smiles at her news, while "Warwick frowns at his. Prince. Nay, mark, how Lewis stamps as he were nettled; I hope all's for the best. King Lewis. Warwick, what are thy news? and yours, fair queen? Queen Margaret. Mine, such as fill my heart with unhop'd joys. Warwick. Mine, full of sorrow, and heart's discontent. King Lewis. What! has your king married the lady Grey? And now, to soothe your forgery and his, Sends me a paper to persuade me patience? Is this the alliance that he seeks with France? Dare he presume to scorn us in this manner? Queen Margaret. I told your majesty as much before: This proveth Edward's love, and Warwick's honesty. Warwick. King Lewis, I here protest,—in sight of heaven, And by the hope I have of heavenly bliss,— That I am clear from this misdeed of Edward's, No mare my king, for he dishonours me; But most himself if he could see his shame.— Did I forget, that by the house of York My father came untimely to his death? 9

Juggling.

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Did I let pass the abuse done to my niece? Did I impale him with the regal crown? Did I put Henry from his native right; And am I guerdon'dl at the last with shame ? Shame on himself! for my desert is honour. And to repair my honour lost for him, I here renounce him, and return to Henry: My noble queen, let former grudges pass, And henceforth I am thy true servitor; I will revenge his wrong to lady Bona, And replant Henry in his former state. Queen Margaret. Warwick, these words have turn'd my liate to love; And I forgive and quite forget old faults, And joy that thou becom'st king Henry's friend. Warwick. So much his friend, ay, his unfeigned friend, That, if king Lewis vouchsafe to furnish us With some few bands of chosen soldiers, I'll undertake to land them on our coast, And force the tyrant from his seat by war. 'Tis not his new-made bride shall succour him: And as for Clarence,—as my letters tell me, He's very likely now to fall from him; For matching more for wanton lust than honour, Or than for strength or safety of our country. Bona. Dear brother, how shall Bona be reveng'd, But by thy help to this distressed queen ? Queen Margaret. Renowned prince, how shall poor Henry live, Unless thou rescue him from foul despair? Bona. My quarrel, and this English queen's, are one. Wa/rwich. And mine, fair lady Bona, joins with yours. King Lewis. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margaret's. Therefore at last, I firmly am resolv'd, You shall have aid. Queen Margaret. Let me give humble thanks for all at once. 1

Rewarded.

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King Lewis. Then England's messenger, return in post; And tell false Edward, thy supposed king,— That Lewis of France is sending over maskers, To revel it with him and his new bride: Thou seest what's past, go fear2 thy king withal Bona. Tell him, In hope he'll prove a widower shortly, I'll wear the willow garland for his sake. Queen Margaret. Tell him, My mourning weeds are laid aside, And I am ready to put armour on. Warwick. Tell him from me, That he hath done me wrong; And therefore I'll uncrown him ere't be long. There's thy reward; be gone. [Exit MESSENGER, King Lewis. But, Warwick, thou, And Oxford, with five thousand men, Shall cross the seas, and bid false Edward battle: And, as occasion serves, this noble queen And prince shall follow with a fresh supj)ly. Yet, ere thou go, but answer me one doubt;— What pledge have we of thy firm loyalty? Warwick. This shall assure my constant loyalty:— That if our queen and this young prince agree, I'll join mine eldest daughter, and my joy, To him forthwith in holy wedlock bands. Queen Margaret. Yes, I agree, and thank you for your motion:— Son Edward, she is fair and virtuous, Therefore delay not, give thy hand to Warwick: And, with thy hand, thy faith irrevocable, That only Warwick's daughter shall be thine. Prince. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserves it: And here to pledge my vow, I give my hand. [He gives his hand to WARWICK. King Leiois. Why stay we now? These soldiers shall be levied, And thou, lord Bourbon, our high admiral, Shall waft them over with our royal fleet. 2

Frighten,

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I long, till Edward fall by war's mischance, For mocking marriage with a dame of France. [Exeunt all but WARWICK* Warwick. I came from Edward as ambassador, But I return his sworn and mortal foe: Matter of marriage was the charge he gave me, But dreadful war shall answer his demand. Had he none else to make a stale,3 but me? Then none but 1 shall turn his jest to sorrow. I was the chief that rais'd him to the crown, And I'll be chief to bring him down again: Not that I pity Henry's misery, But seek revenge on Edward's mockery. [Exit.

ACT IV. SCENE I.—LONDON.

A Boom in the Palace.

Enter GLOSTER, CLARENCE, SOMERSET, MONTAGUE, and Others. Gloster. Now tell me, brother Clarence, what think you Of this new marriage with the lady Grey ? Hath not our brother made a worthy choice? Clarence. Alas,you know, 'tis far from hence to France; How could he stay till Warwick made return? Somerset. My lords, forbear this talk; here comes the king. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, attended; LADY GREY, as Queen; PEMBROKE, STAFFORD, HASTINGS, and Others. Gloster. And his well-chosen bride. Clarence. I mind to tell him plainly what I think. King Edward. Now, brother of Clarence, how like you our choice, That you stand pensive, as half malcontent? Clarence. As well as Lewis of France, or the earl of Warwick; 3

A stalking-horse, a pretence.

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Which are so weak of courage, and in judgment, That they'll take no offence at our abuse. King Edward. Suppose they take offence without a cause, They are but Lewis and Warwick; I am Edward, Your king and Warwick's, and must have my will. Gloster. And you shall have your will, because our king: Yet hasty marriage seldom proveth well. King Edward. Yea, brother Richard, are you offended too? Gloster. Not I : No; God forbid, that I should wish them sever'd Whom he hath join'd together: ay, and 'twere pity, To sunder them that yoke so well together. King Edward. Setting your scorns, and your mislike, aside, Tell me some reason, why the lady Grey Should not become my wife, and England's queen:— And you too, Somerset, and Montague, Speak freely what you think. Clarence. Then this is my opinion,—that king Lewis Becomes your enemy, for mocking him About the marriage of. the lady Bona. Gloster. And Warwick, doing what you gave in charge, Is now dishonoured by this new marriage. King Edward. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd, By such invention as I can devise? Montague. Yet to have join'd with France in such alliance, Would more have strengthen'd this our commonwealth 'Gainst foreign storms, than any home-bred marriage. Hastings. Why, knows not Montague, that of itself England is safe, if true within itself? Montague. Yes; but the safer, when 'tis back'd with France. Hastings. 'Tis better using France, than trusting France:

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Let us be back'd with heaven, and with the seas, Which God hath given for fence impregnable, And with their helps only defend ourselves; In them, and in ourselves, our safety lies. Clarence. For this one speech, lord Hastings well deserves To have the heir of the lord Hungerford. King Edward. Ay, what of that? it was< my will, and grant; And, for this once, my will shall stand for law. Gloster. And yet, methinks, your grace hath not done well, To give the heir and daughter of lord Scales Unto the brother of your loving bride; She better would have fitted me, or Clarence: But in your bride you bury brotherhood. Clarence. Or else you would not have bestow'd the heir Of the lord Bonvilie on your new wife's son, And leave your brothers to go speed elsewhere. King Edioard. Alas, poor Clarence! is it for a wife, That thou art malcontent? I will provide thee. Clarence. In choosing for yourself, you show'd your judgment; Which being shallow, you shall give me leave To play the broker in mine own behalf; And, to that end, I shortly mind to leave you. King Edward. Leave me, or tarry, Edward will be king, And not be tied unto his brother's will. Queen Elizabeth. My lords, before it pleas'd his majesty To raise my state to title of a queen, Do me but right, and you must all confess That I was not ignoble of descent, And meaner than myself have had like fortune. But as this title honours me and mine, So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing, Do cloud my joys with danger and with sorrow. King Edward. My love, forbear to fawn upon their frowns:

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What danger, or what sorrow can befal thee, So long as Edward is thy constant friend, And their true sovereign, whom they must obey? Nay, whom they shall obey, and love thee too, Unless they seek for hatred at my hands: Which if they do, yet will I keep thee safe, And they shall feel the vengeance of my wrath. Gloster. I hear, yet say not much, but think the more. [Aside. Enter a MESSENGER. King Edward. Now, messenger, what letters, or what news, From France? Messenger. My sovereign liege, no letters; and few words, But such as I without your special pardon, Dare not relate. King Edward. Go to, we pardon thee: therefore, in brief, Tell me their words as near as thou canst guess them. What answer makes king Lewis unto our letters? Messenger. At my depart these were his very words; Go tell false Edward, thy supposed king,— That Lewis of France is sending over maskers, To revel it with him and his new bride. King Edward. Is Lewis so brave? belike, he thinks me Henry. But what said lady Bona to my marriage? Messenger. These were her words, utter'd with mild disdain: Tell him, In hope lie II prove a loidower shortly. Til wear the ivillow garland for his sake. King Edward. I blame not her, she could say little less; She had the wrong. But what said Henry's queen? For I have heard that she was there in place. Messenger. Tell him, quoth she, My mourning weeds are done, And I am ready to put armour on.

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King Edward. Belike, she minds to play the Amazon. But what said Warwick to these injuries? Messenger. He, more incens'd against your majesty Than all the rest, discharged me with these words; Tell kirn from me, That lie hath done me wrong; And therefore, Til uncrown him eret be long. King Edward. Ha! durst the traitor breathe out so proud words? Well, I will arm me, being thus forewarned: They shall have wars, and pay for their presumption. But say, is Warwick friends with Margaret? Messenger. Ay, gracious sovereign; they are so link'd in friendship, That young prince Edward marries Warwick's daughter. Clarence. Belike, the elder; Clarence will have the younger. Now, brother king, farewell, and sit you fast, For I will hence to Warwick's other daughter; That, though I want a kingdom, yet in marriage I may not prove inferior to yourself.— You, that love me and Warwick, follow me. [Exit CLARENCE, and SOMERSET follows. Gloster. JSTot I :

My thoughts aim at a further matter; I Stay not for love of Edward, but the crown. [Aside. King Edward. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick! Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen; And haste is needful in this desperate case.— Pembroke, and Stafford, you in our behalf Go levy men, and make prepare for war; They are already, or quickly will be landed: Myself in person will straight follow you. [Exeunt PEMBROKE and STAFFORD. But, ere I go, Hastings,—and Montague,— Resolve my doubt. You twain, of all the rest, Are near to Warwick, by blood, and by alliance: Tell me, if you love Warwick more than me? If it be so, then both depart to him;

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I rather wish you foes than hollow friends; But if you mind to hold your true obedience, Give me assurance with some friendly vow, That I may never have you in suspect. Montague. So God help Montague, as he proves true! Hastings. And Hastings, as he favours Edward's cause! King Edward. Now, brother Richard, will you stand by us? Gloster. Ay, in despite of all that shall withstand you. King Edward. Why so; then am I sure of victory. Now therefore let us hence; and lose no hour, Till we meet Warwick with his foreign power. [Eocewnt, SCENE

II.—A Plain in WARWICKSHIRE.

Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with FRENCH cmd oilier Forces.

Warwick. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well; The common people by numbers swarm to us. Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET. But, see, where Somerset and Clarence come;— Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends? Clarence. Fear not that, my lord. Warwick. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick; And welcome, Somerset:—I hold it cowardice, To rest mistrustful where a noble heart Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love; Else might I think, that Clarence, Edward's brother, Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings: But welcome, Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. And now what rests, but, in night's coverture, Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, His soldiers lurking in the towns about, And but attended by a simple guard, We may surprize and take him at our pleasure? Our scouts have found the adventure very easy: That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede,

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With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus1 tents, And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds; So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle, At unawares may beat down Edward's guard, And seize himself: I say not—slaughter him, For I intend but only to 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 Warwick and his friends, God and saint George! \Exeunt. SCENE III.—EDWARD'S CAMP

near

WARWICK.

Enter certain WATCHMEN, to guard the KING'S Tent. 1 Watchman. Come on, my masters, each man take his stand; The king by this is set him down to sleep. 2 Watchman. What, will he not to bed? 1 Watchman. Why, no: for he hath made a solemn vow Never to lie and take his natural rest, Till Warwick, or himself, be quite suppressed. 2 Watchman. To-morrow then, belike, shall be the day, If Warwick be so near as men report. 3 Watchman. But say, I pray, what nobleman is that. That with the king here resteth in his tent? 1 Watchman. 'Tis the lord Hastings, the king's chiefest friend. 3 Watchman. O, is it so? But why commands the king, That his chief followers lodge in towns about him, While he himself keepeth in the cold field? 2 Watchman. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous. 3 Watchman. Ay; but give me worship and quietness, I like it better than a dangerous honour. If Warwick knew in what estate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted, he would waken him.

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1 Watchman. Unless our halberds did shut up his passage. 2 Watchman. Ay; wherefore else guard we his royal tent, But to defend his person from night-foes ? Enter WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD, SOMERSET, and Forces. Warwick. This is his tent; and see, where stand his guard. Courage, my masters; honour now, or never! But follow me, and Edward shall be ours. 1 Watchman. Who goes there? 2 Watchman. Stay, or thou diest. [WARWICK, and the rest, cry all—WARWICK ! WARWICK ! and set upon tlie guard; who fly, crying— Arm! Arm! WARWICK, and the rest, following them. The Drum beating, and Trumpets sounding, re-enter WARWICK, and the rest, bringing the KING out in a Gown, sitting in a Chair; GLOSTER and HASTINGS j % , Somerset. What are they that fly there. Warwick Hichard, and Hastings: let them go, here's the duke. King Edward. The duke; why, Warwick, when we parted last, Thou call'dst me king, Warwick. Ay, but the case is alter'd: When you disgraced me in my embassade, Then I degraded you from being king, And come now to create you duke of York. Alas! how should you govern any kingdom, That know not how to use ambassadors; Nor how to be contented with one wife; Nor how to use your brothers brotherly; Nor how to study for the people's welfare; Nor how to shroud yourself from enemies? King Edivard. Yea, brother of Clarence, art thou here too?

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Nay, then I see, that Edward needs must down.— Yet, Warwick, in despite of all mischance, Of thee thyself, and all thy complices, Edward will always bear himself as king: Though fortune's malice overthrow my state, My mind exceeds the compass of her wheel. Warwick Then, for his mind,4 be Edward England's king: [Takes off his crown. But Henry now shall wear the English crown, And be true king indeed; thou but the shadow.— My lord of Somerset, at my request, See that forthwith duke Edward be convey'd Unto my brother, archbishop of York. "When I have fought with Pembroke and his fellows, I'll follow you, and tell what answer Lewis, and the lady Bona, send to him: Now, for a while, farewell, good duke of York. King Edward. What fates impose, that men must needs abide; It boots not to resist both wind and tide. [Exit KING EDWARD, led out; SOMERSET with hhru Oxford. What now remains, my lords, for us to do, But march to London with our soldiers? Warwick. Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do: To free king Henry from imprisonment, And see him seated in the regal throne. [Exeunt SCENE TV.—LONDON,

A Room in the Palace.

Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and RIVERS. Rivers. Madam, what makes you in this sudden change? Queen Elizabeth. Why, brother Rivers, are you yet to learn, What late misfortune is befall'n king Edward ? Rivers. What, loss of some pitch'd battle against Warwick? Queen Elizabeth. No, but the loss of his own royal person. 4

i. e. In his mind; as far as his own mind goes.

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Elvers. Then is my sovereign slain? Queen Elizabeth. Ay, almost slain, for he is taken prisoner; Either betray'd by falsehood of his guard, Or by his foe surpriz'd at unawares: And, as I further have to understand, Is new committed to the bishop of York, Fell Warwick's brother, and by that our foe. Rivers. These news, I must confess, are full of grief: Yet, gracious madam, bear it as you may; Warwick may lose, that now hath won the day. Queen Elizabeth. Till then, fair hope must hinder life's decay. And I the rather wean me from despair, For love of Edward's offspring in my womb: This is it that makes me bridle passion, And bear with mildness my misfortune's cross; Ay, ay, for this I draw in many a tear, And stop the rising of blood-sur-king sighs, Lest with my sighs or tears I blast or drown King Edward's fruit, true heir to the English crown. Rivers. But, madam, where is Warwick then become? Queen Elizabeth. I am informed, that he comes towards London, To set the crown once more on Henry's head: Guess thou the rest; king Edward's friends must down. But to prevent the tyrant's violence, (For trust not him that hath once broken faith,) I'll hence forthwith unto the sanctuary, To save at least the heir of Edward's right; There shall I rest secure from force, and fraud. Come therefore, let us fly, while we may fly; If Warwick take us, we are sure to die. [Exeunt.

KING HENRY VI. SCENE

255

V.—A Park near MIDDLEHAM Castle, in YORKSHIRE.

Enter GLOSTER, HASTINGS, SIR WILLIAM STANLEY, a)id Others.

Gloster. Now, my lord Hastings, and sir William Stanley, Leave off to wonder why I drew you hither, Into this chiefest thicket of the park. Thus stands the case: You know, our king, my brother, Is prisoner to the bishop here, at whose hands He hath good usage and great liberty; And often, but attended with weak guard, Comes hunting this way to disport himself. I have advertised him by secret means, That if about this hour, he make this way, Under the colour of his usual game, He shall here find his friends, with horse and men, To set him free from his captivity. Enter KING EDWARD, and a HUNTSMAN. Huntsman. This way, my lord; for this way lies the game. King Edward. Nay, this way, man; see, where the huntsmen stand.— Now, brother of Gloster, lord Hastings, and the rest, Stand you thus close, to steal the bishop's deer? Gloster. Brother, the time and case requireth haste; Your horse stands ready at the park corner. King Edward. But whither shall we then? Hastings. To Lynn, my lord, and ship from thence to Flanders. Gloster. "Well guess'd, believe me; for that was my meaning, King Edward. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardness. Gloster. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talk. King Edward. Huntsman, what say'st thou; wilt thou go along?

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Huntsman. Better do so, than tarry and be hang'cL Gloster. Come then away; let's have no more ado. King Edward. Bishop, farewell: shield thee from Warwick's frown; And pray that I may repossess the crown. [Exeunt. SCENE

VI.—A Room in the TOWER.

Enter KING HENRY, CLARENCE, WARWICK, SOMERSET, YOUNG RICHMOND, OXFORD, MONTAGUE, LIEUTENANT of the TOWER, and ATTENDANTS.

King Henry. Master lieutenant, now that God and friends Have shaken Edward from the regal seat; And turn'd my captive state to liberty, My fear to hope, my sorrows unto joys; At our enlargement what are thy due fees? Lieutenant. Subjects may challenge nothing of their sovereigns; But, if an humble prayer may prevail, I then crave pardon of your majesty. King Henry. For what, lieutenant? for well using me? Nay, be thou sure, I'll well requite thy kindness, For that it made my imprisonment a j)leasure: Ay, such a pleasure as incaged birds Conceive, when, after many moody thoughts, At last, by notes of household harmony, They quite forget their loss of liberty.— But, Warwick, after God, thou set'st me free, And chiefly therefore I thank God and thee; He was the author, thou the instrument. Therefore, that I may conquer fortune's spite, By living low where fortune cannot hurt me; And that the people of this blessed land May not be punish'd with my thwarting stars; Warwick, although my head still wear the crown, I here resign my government to thee, For thou are fortunate in all thy deeds.

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Warwick. Your grace hath still been fam'd for virtuous; And now may seem as wise as virtuous, By spying and avoiding fortune's malice, For few men rightly temper with the stars: 5 Yet in this one thing let me blame your grace, For choosing me, when Clarence is in place,6 Clarence. No, Warwick, thou are worthy of the sway, To whom the heavens, in thy nativity, Adjudg'd an olive branch, and laurel crown, As likely to be blest in peace, and war; And therefore I yield thee my free consent. Warwick. And I choose Clarence only for protector. King Henry. Warwick, and Clarence, give me both your hands; Now join your hands, and with your hands, your hearts, That no dissension hinder government: I make you both protectors of this land; While I myself will lead a private life, And in devotion spend my latter days, To sin's rebuke, and my Creator's praise. Warwick. What answers Clarence to his sovereign's will? Clarence. That he consents, if Warwick yield consent; For on thy fortune I repose myself. Wamoick. Why then, though loath, yet must I be content: We'll yoke together, like a double shadow To Henry's body, and supply his place; I mean in bearing weight of government, While he enjoys the honour, and his ease. And, Clarence, now then it is more than needful, Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor, And all his lands and goods be confiscate. Clarence. What else ? and that succession be determin'd. Warwick. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part. King Henry. But, with the first of all your chief affairs, Let me entreat, (for I command no more,) 5

Few men conform their temper to their destiny. VOL. IV.

6

Present. S

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That Margaret your queen, and my son Edward, Be sent for, to return from France with speed : For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear My joy of liberty is half eclips'd. Clarence. It shall be done, my sovereign, with all speed. King Henry. My lord of Somerset, what youth is that, Of whom you seem to have so tender care ? Somerset. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Richmond. Xing Henry. Come hither, England's hope: if secret powers, [Lays his hand on his head. Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, This pretty lad 7 will prove our country's bliss. His looks are full of peaceful majesty; His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown, His hand to wield a scepter; and himself Likely, in time, to bless a regal throne. Make much of him, my lords; for this is he, Must help you more than you are hurt by me. Enter a MESSENGER. Warwick. What news, my friend? Messenger. That Edward is escaped from your brother. And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy. Warwick. Unsavoury news: But how made he escape? Messenger. He was convey'd by Richard duke of Gloster, And the lord Hastings, who attended him In secret ambush on the forest side, And from the bishop's huntsmen rescued him; For hunting was his daily exercise. Warwick. My brother was too careless of his chargeBut let us hence, my sovereign, to provide A salve for any sore that may betide. [Exeunt KING HENRY, WARWICK, CLARENCE, LIEUTENANT, and ATTENDANTS. 7 Afterward Henry VII.

KING HENRY VL

2f)9

Somerset. My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's : For, doubtless, Burgundy will yield him help: And we shall have more wars, before't be long. As Henry's late presaging prophecy Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond; So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts "What may befall him, to his harm and ours : Therefore, lord Oxford, to prevent the worst, Forthwith we'll send him hence to Britany, Till storms be past of civil enmity. Oxford. Ay ; for, if Edward repossess the crown, 'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down. Somerset. It shall be so; he shall to Britany. Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. [Exeunt. SCENE

VII.—Before

YORK.

Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and Forces. King Edward. Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings, and the rest; Yet thus far fortune maketh us amend, And says—that once more I shall interchange My waned state for Henry's regal crown. Well have we pass'd, and now repj.ss'd the seas, And brought desired help from Burgundy; What then remains, we being thus arriv'd From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of York, But that we enter, as into our dukedom? Gloster. The gates made fast!—Brother, I like not this; For many men, that stumble at the threshold, Are well foretold—that danger lurks within. King Edward. Tush, man! abodements must not now affright us; By fair or foul means we must enter in, For hither will our friends repair to us. Hastings. My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them.

260

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Enter, on the Walls, the MAYOR of YORK, and his Brethren. Mayor. My lords, we were forewarned of your coming 6) And shut the gates for safety of ourselves; For now we owe allegiance unto Henry. King Edward. But, master mayor, if Henry be your king, Yet Edward, at the least, is duke of York. Mayor. True, my good lord; I know you for no less. King Edward. Why, and I challenge nothing but my dukedom; As being well content with that alone. Gloster. But when the fox hath once got in his nose, Hell soon find means to make the body follow. [Aside. Hastings. Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt? Open the gates, we are king Henry's friends. Mayor. Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be open'd. [Exeunt from above. Gloster. A wise stout captain, and persuaded soon. Hastings. The good old man would fain that all were well, So 'twere not 'long of him: but, being enter'd, I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade Both him and all his brothers unto reason. Re-enter the MAYOR and two ALDERMEN below. King Edward. So, master mayor: these gates must not be shut, But in the night or in the time of war. What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys; [Takes his keys. For Edward will defend the town and thee, And all those friends that deign to follow me. Drum. Enter MONTGOMERY, and Forces, marching. Gloster. Brother, this is sir John Montgomery, Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd

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261

King Edward. Welcome, sir John! But why come you in arms? Montgomery. To help king Edward in his time of storm, As every loyal subject ought to do. King Edivard. Thanks, good Montgomery: But we now forget Our title to the crown; and only claim Our dukedom, till Heaven please to send the rest. Montgomery. Then fare you well, for I will hence again; I came to serve a king and not a duke,— Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. [.1 March begun. King Edward. Nay, stay, sir John, a while; and we'll debate, By what safe means the crown may be recovered. Montgomery. What, talk you of debating? in few words, If you'll not here proclaim yourself our king, I'll leave you to your fortune; and be gone, To keep them back that come to succour you: Why should we fight, if you pretend no title? Gloster. Why, brother, wherefore stand you on nice points? King Edward. When we grow stronger, then we'll make our claim: Till then, 'tis wisdom to conceal our meaning. Hastings. Away with scrupulous wit! now arms must rule. Gloster. And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns. Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand ; The bruit8 thereof will bring you many friends. King Edward. Then be it as you will; for 'tis my right, And Henry but usurps the diadem. Montgomery. Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself; now will I be Edward's champion. 8

Noise, report.

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THIRD PART OP

Hastings. Sound, trumpet; Edward shall be here proclaimed:— Come, fellow-soldier, make thy proclamation. [Gives him a paper. Mowrish. Soldier. [Beads.] Edward the Fourthly the grace of God, king of England and France, and lord of Irelamd, &Cs Montgomery. And whosoe'er gainsays king Edward's right, By this I challenge him to single fight. [Throws down his Gauntlet. All. Long live Edward the Fourth! Xing Edward. Thanks, brave Montgomery;—and thanks unto you all. If fortune serve me, I'll requite this kindness. Now for this night, let's harbour here in York: And, when the morning sun shall raise his car Above the border of this horizon, "We'll forward towards Warwick, and his mates; For, well I wot,9 that Henry is no soldier.— Ah, froward Clarence!—how evil it beseems thee, To flatter Henry, and forsake thy brother! Yet, as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick.— Come on, brave soldiers; doubt not of the day; And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. [Exeunt. SCENE VIII.—LONDON.

Enter

A Room in the Palace.

KING HENRY, WARWICK, CLARENCE, MONTAGUE, EXETER, and OXFORD.

Warwick. What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia, With hasty Germans, and blunt Hollanders, Hath pass'd in safety through the narrow seas, And with his troops doth march amain to London; And many giddy people flock to him. Oxford. Let's levy men, and beat him back again. Clarence. A little fire is quickly trodden out; Which, being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench. 9

Know.

KING HENRY VI.

263

Warwick. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends, Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war; Those will I muster up—and thou, son Clarence, Shalt stir, in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent, The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:— Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham, Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st:— And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd, In Oxfordshire shall muster up thy friends.— My sovereign, with the loving citizens,— Like to his island, girt in with the ocean, Shall rest in London, till we come to him.— Fair lords, take leave, and stand not to reply.— Farewell, my sovereign. King Henry. Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy's true hope. Clarence. In sign of truth, I kiss your highness' hand. King Henry. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate! Montague. Comfort, my lord;—and so I take my leave. Oxford. And thus [Kissing HENRY'S hand] I seal my truth, and bid adieu. King Henry. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, And all at once, once more a happy farewell. Warwick. Farewell, sweet lords; let's meet at Coventry. [Exeunt WARWICK, CLARENCE, OXFORD, and

MONTAGUE.

King Henry. Here at the palace will I rest a while. Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship ? Methinks, the power that Edward hath in field, Should not be able to encounter mine. Exeter. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest. King Henry. That's not my fear, my meed1 hath got me fame. I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands, Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds, My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs, 1

Merit.

26i

THIRD PART OF

My mercy dry'd their water-flowing tears: I have not been desirous of their wealth, Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies, Nor forward of revenge, though they much err'd; Then why should they love Edward more than me? No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace: And, when the lion fawns upon the lamb, The lamb will never cease to follow him. [Shout loithin. A Lancaster! A Lancaster! Exeter. Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these? Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, and SOLDIERS. King Edward. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence, And once again proclaim us king of England.— You are the fount, that makes small brooks to flow; Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry, And swell so much the higher by their ebb.— Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak. [Exewit some with KING HENRY. And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course, Where peremptory Warwick now remains: The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay, Cold biting winter mars our hop'd-for hay. Gloster. Away betimes, before his forces join, And take the great-grown traitor unawares; Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. \Eoceunt.

ACT V. SCENE I.—COVENTRY.

Enter, upon tJie Walls, WARWICK, the MAYOR of COVENTRY two MESSENGERS, and Others. Warwick Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford? How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? 1 Messenger. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.

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265

Warwick. How far off is our brother Montague ? Where is the post that came from Montague ? 2 Messenger. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. Enter SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE. Warwick. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son ? And, by the guess, how nigh is Clarence now? Somerville. At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here some two hours hence. [Drum heard. Warwick. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum. Somerville. It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies; The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick. Warwick. Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends. Somerville. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know. Drums. Enter

KING EDWARD, GLOSTER,

and Forces,

marching. King Edward. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle. Gloster. See, how the surly Warwick mans the wall. Warwick. O, unbid spite! is sportful Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could hear no news of his repair? King Edward. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates, Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee?— Call Edward—king, and at his hands beg mercy, And he shall pardon thee these outrages. Warwick. Nay, rather wilt thou draw thy forces hence, Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down?— Call Warwick—patron, and be penitent, And thou shalt still remain the duke of York. Gloster. I thought at least, he would have said—the king; Or did he make the jest against his will? Warwick. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?

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Gloster. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give; I'll do thee service for so good a gift. Wai-wick. 'Twas I, that gave the kingdom to thy brother. King Edward. Why, then, 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift. Warwick. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. King Edward. But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner : And gallant Warwick, do but answer this,— What is the body, when the head is off? Gloster. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The king was slily fingered from the deck! 2 You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace, And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower. King Edward. 'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still. Gloster. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel down, kneel down: Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools. Warwick. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow, And with the other fling it at thy face, Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee. King Edward. Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend; This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair, Shall, whiles the head is warm, and new cut off, Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,— Wind-cha/nging Warwick now can change no more. Enter OXFORD, with Drum and Colours. Warwick. O cheerful colours! see where Oxford comes Oxford. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster! [OXFORD and his Forces enter the City. Gloster. The gates are open, let us enter too. King Edivard. So other foes may set upon our backs: Stand we in good array: for they, no doubt, 2

A pack of cards was formerly termed a deck of cards.

KING HENRY VI.

2G7

Will issue out again, and bid us battle: If not, the city, being but of small defence, We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same. Warwick. 0, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help. Enter MONTAGUE, with Drum and Colours. Montague. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster? [He and his Forces enter the City. Gloster. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear. King Edward. The harder match'd, the greater victory; My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest. Enter SOMERSET, loith Drum and Colours. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster! [He and his Forces enter the City. Gloster. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York; And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold. Enter CLARENCE, with Drum and Colours. Warwick. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, Of force enough to bid his brother battle; With whom an upright zeal to right prevails, More than the nature of a brother's love:— Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick calls. Clarence. Father of Warwick, know you what this means? [Taking the red Rose out of his Cwp. Look here, I throw my infamy at thee: I will not ruinate my father's house, Who gave his blood to lime the stones together, And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick, That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt,3 unnatural, To bend the fatal instruments of war Against his brother, and his lawful king? Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath: 3

Insensible.

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To keep that oath, were more impiety. I am so sorry for my trespass made, That to deserve well at my brother's hands, I here proclaim myself tby mortal foe; With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee, (As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,) To plague thee for thy foul misleading me, And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends; And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults, For I will henceforth be no more unconstant. King Edward. Now welcome more, and ten times more belov'd, Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate. Gloster. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like. Warwick. O passing4 traitor, perjur'd, and unjust! King Edward. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town, and fight ? Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears? Warwick. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence: I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st. King Edward. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way:— Lords, to the field; saint George, and victory. [March. Exeunt. II.—A Field of Battle near BARNET. Alarums and Excursions. Enter KING EDWARD, bringing in WARWICK wounded. King Edward. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear; For Warwick was a bug 5 that fear'd6 us all. Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee, That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. [Exit. Warwick. Ah, who is nigh? come to me friend, or foe, SCENE

4

Eminent, egregious.

5

Bugbear.

« Terrified.

KING HENRY VI.

2C9

And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warwick? Why ask I that? my mangled body shows, My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows, That I must yield my body to the earth, And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion slept; Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree, And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind. These eyes that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun, To search the secret treasons of the world: The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood, Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow? Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Even now forsake me: and, of all my lands, Is nothing left me, but my body's length! Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And, live we how we can, yet die we must. Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET. Somerset Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are, We might recover all our loss again! The queen from France hath brought a puissant power; Even now we heard the news: Ah, couldst thou fly! Warwich. Why, then I would not fly.—Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take iny hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while! Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood, That glues my lips, and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. Somerset. Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his last; And to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick,

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And said—Commend me to my valiant brother. And more he would have said; and more he spoke, Which sounded like a cannon in a vault, That might not be distinguished; but at last, I well might hear delivered with a groan,— O, farewell, Warwick! Warwick. Sweet rest to his soul!— Fly, lords, and save yourselves: for Warwick bids [Dies. You all farewell, to meet again in heaven. Oxford. Away, away, to meet the queen's great power. [Exeunt, bearing ^'WARWICK'S Body. III.—Another Part of the Field. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD in triumph; with CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and the rest. King Edward. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory. But in the midst of this bright-shining day, I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud, That will encounter with our glorious sun, Ere he attain his easeful western bed: I mean, my lords,—those powers that the queen Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast, And, as we hear, march on to fight with us. Clarence. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud, And blow it to the source from whence it came: Thy very beams will dry those vapours up; For every cloud engenders not a storm. Gloster. The queen is valued thirty thousand strong. And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her; If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd, Her faction will be full as strong as ours. King Edward. We are advertis'd by our loving friends, That they do hold their course towards Tewksbury; We, having now the best at Barnet field, Will thither straight, for willingness rids way; And, as we march, our strength will be augmented SCENE

KING HENHY VI.

271

In every county as we go along.— Strike up the drum; cry—Courage! and away. [Exeunt. IV.—Plains near TEWKSBURY. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD,

SCENE

March.

SOMERSET, OXFORD, and SOLDIERS.

Queen Margaret. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss, But cheerly seek how to redress their harms. What though the mast be now blown over-board, The cable broke, the holding anchor lost, And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood? Yet lives our pilot still: Is't meet that he Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad, With tearful eyes add water to the sea, And give more strength to that which hath too much; Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock, Which industry and courage might have sav'd? Ah! what a shame! ah, what a fault were this! Say, Warwick was our anchor; What of that? And Montague our top-mast; What of him? Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; What of these? Why, is not Oxford here another anchor? And Somerset another goodly mast; The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings? And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge? We will not from the helm, to sit and weep; But keep our course, though the rough wind say—no, From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck. As good to chide the waves as speak them fair. And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea? What Clarence, but a quicksand of deceit ? And Bichard, but a ragged fatal rock? All these the enemies to our poor bark. Say, you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while: Tread on the sand; why there you quickly sink: Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,

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Or else you famish, that's a threefold death. This speak I, lords, to let you understand, In case some one of you would fly from us, That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers, More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks. Why, courage, then! what cannot be avoided, 'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear. Prince. Methinks, a woman of this valiant spirit Should, if a coward heard her speak these words, Infuse his breast with magnanimity, And make him, naked, foil a man at arms. I speak not this as doubting any here: For, did I but suspect a fearful man, He should have leave to go away betimes; Lest, in our need, he might infect another, And make him of like spirit to himself. If any such be here, as heaven forbid! Let him depart, before we need his help. Oxford. Women and children of so high a courage! And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame.— O, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather Doth live again in thee; Long mayst thou live, To bear his image, and renew his glories! Somerset. And he, that will not fight for such a hope, Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at. Queen Margaret. Thanks, gentle Somerset;—sweet Oxford, thanks. Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight; therefore be resolute, Oxford. I thought no less: it is his policy, To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. Somerset. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness. Queen Margaret. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.

KING HENRY VI.

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Oxford. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not budge. March. Enter, at a distance, KING EDWABD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces. King Edward. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood, Which, by the heaven's assistance, and your strength, Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night. I need not add more fuel to your fire, For, well I wot,7 ye blaze to burn them out: Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords. Queen Margaret Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say, My tears gainsay; for every word I speak, Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes. Therefore, no more but this:—Henry, your sovereign, Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd, His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain, His statutes cancelled, and his treasure spent; And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil. You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords, Be valiant, and give signal to the fight. [Exeunt, both Armies. Y.—Another Part of the same. Ala/rums: Excursions: and afterwa/rds a Retreat Then enter KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces; with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, Prisoners. King Edward. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils, Away with Oxford to Hamines' castle8 straight: For Somerset, off with his guilty head. Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak. Oxford. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words. Somerset Nor I ; but stoop with patience to my fortune. [Exeunt OXFORD and SOMERSET, gua/rded. SCENE

7

Know. VOL. IV.

8

A castle in Picardy. T

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Queen Margaret. So part we sadly in this troublous world, To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem. King Edward. Is proclamation made,—that, who finds Edward, Shall have a high reward, and he his life? Gloster. It is: and, lo, where youthful Edward comes. Enter SOLDIERS, with PRINCE EDWARD. King Edward. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak: What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to? Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York! Suppose that I am now my father's mouth; Resign thy chair, and where I stand, kneel thou, Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee, Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to. Queen Margaret. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd! King Edward. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue. Clarence. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty; you are all undutiful; Lascivious Edward,—and thou perjur'd George,— And thou mis-shapen Dick,—I tell ye all, I am your better, traitors as ye are;— And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. King Edwcvrd. Take that, the likeness of this railer here. [Stabs him. Gloster. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony. [GLOSTER stabs him. Clarence. And there's for twitting me with perjury. [CLARENCE stabs him. Queen,Margaret. O, kill me too! Gloster. Marry, and shall. [Offers to hill her.

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King Edward. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much. Gloster. Why should she live, to fill the world with words'? King Edward. What! doth she swoon? use means for her recovery. Gloster. Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother: I'll hence to London on a serious matter: Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news. Chance. What? what? Gloster. The Tower, the Tower! [Exit. Queen Margaret. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy! Canst thou not speak?—O traitors! murderers!— They, that stabb'd Caesar, shed no blood at all, Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame, If this foul deed were by, to equal it. He was a man: this, in respect, a child; And men ne'er spend their fury on a child. What's worse than murderer, that I may name it? No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak:— And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.— Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals! How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd! You have no children, butchers! if you had, The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse: But, if you ever chance to have a child, Look in his youth to have him so cut off, As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young prince! King Edward. Away with her; go bear her hence perforce. Queeyi Margaret. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch -me here; Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: What! wilt thou not ?—then, Clarence, do it thou. Clarence. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Queen Margaret. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

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THIRD PAKT OF

Clarence. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not do it? Queen Margaret Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself; 'Twas sin before,9 but now 'tis charity. What! wilt thou not ? where is that devil's butcher, Hard-favour d Richard? Richard, where art thou? Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed; Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back. King Edward. Away, I say; I charge ye bear her hence. Queen Margaret. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince! [Exit, led out forcibly. King Edward. Where's Richard gone? Clarence. To London all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower. King Edward. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence: discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she hath a son for me. [Exeunt. A Boom in the TOWER. KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a Book in his Hand, the LIEUTENANT attending. Enter GLOSTER. Ghster. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard? King Henry. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather; 'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better; Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Gloster. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer. [Exit LIEUTENANT. King Henry. So flies the reckless shepherd from tin) wolf: So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece, SCENE VI.—LONDON.

9

She alludes to the desertion of Clarence.

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277

And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.— What scene of death hath Roscius now to act? Gloster. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer. King Henry. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling limbs misdoubteth1 every bush: And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye, Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd. Gloster. Why, what a peevish2 fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a fowl? And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. King Henry. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragick history.— But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life? Gloster. Think'st thou, I am an executioner? King Henry. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner. Gloster. Thy son I kill'd, for his presumption. King Hewry. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first thou didst presume, Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine. And thus I prophesy,—that many a thousand, Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear; And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's, And many an orphan's water-standing eye,— Men for their sons', wives for their husbands' fate, And orphans for their parents' timeless death, Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born. The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign; The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time; 1

To misdoubt is to suspect clanger, to fear.

2

Childish.

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Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down trees; The raven rook'd3 her on the chimney's top, And chattering pies in dismal discord sung. Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope; To wit,—an indigest deformed lump, Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree. Teeth hadst thou in thy head, when thou wast born, To signify,—thou cam'st to bite the world : And, if the rest be true which I have heard, Thou cam'st— Gloster. I'll hear no more;—Die, prophet, in thy speech; [Stabs him. For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd. King Henry. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this. 0 G od! forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Lies. Gloster. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted. See, how my sword weeps for the poor king's death! 0, may such purple tears be always shed From those that wish the downfal of our house!'— If any spark of life be yet remaining, Down, down to hell; and say—I sent thee thither, [Stabs him again. 1, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.— Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of; As I have often heard my mother say, 1 came into the world with my legs forward: Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste, And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right? The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried, 0, Heaven bless us, lie is born with teeth ! And so I was; which plainly signified— That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog. Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so, Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it. I have no brother, I am like no brother: 3

To rook 8ignified to lodge on any thing.

KING HENRY VI.

279

And this word—love, which greybeards call divine, Be resident in men like one another, And not in me; I am myself alone.— Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light; But I will sort 4 a pitchy day for thee: For I will buz abroad such prophecies, That Edward shall be fearful of his life; And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death. King Henry, and the prince his son, are gone: Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest; Counting myself but bad, till I be best,— I'll throw thy body in another room, And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom. [Eodt VII.—A Roonn in the Palace. KING EDWARD is discovered sitting on his Throne; QUEEN ELIZABETH with the infant PKINCE, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, HASTINGS, and Others, near him. King Edwwd. Once more we sit in England's royal throne, Re-purchas'd with the blood of enemies. What valiant foe-men, like to autumn's corn, Have we mow'd down, in tops of all their pride? Three dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd For hardy and undoubted champions: Two Cliffords, as the father and the son, And two Northumberlands; two braver men Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound: With them, the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague, That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion, And made the forest tremble when they roar'd. Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat, And made our footstool of security.— Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy:— Young Ned, for thee, thine uncles, and myself, Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night; Went all a-foot in summer's scalding heat, SCENE

4

Select

280

THIRD PART OF KING HENRY VI.

That thou mightst repossess the crown in peace; And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain. Gloster. I'll blast his harvest, if your head were laid. For yet I am not look'd on in the world. This shoulder was ordain'd so thick, to heave; And heave it shall some weight, or break my back:— Work thou the way,—and thou shalt execute. [Aside. King Henry. Clarence, and Gloster, love my lovely queen; And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both. Clarence. The duty, that I owe unto your majesty, I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe. King Edward. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks. Gloster. And, that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st, Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.— King Edward. Now am I seated as my soul delights, Having my country's peace, and brothers' loves. Clarence. What will your grace have done with Margaret ? Reignier, her father, to the king of France Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem, And hither have they sent it for her ransome. King Edward. Away with her, and waft her hence to France. And now what rests, but that we spend the time With stately triumphs, mirthful comick shows, Such as befit the pleasures of the court ?— Sound, drums and trumpets!—farewell, sour annoy! For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy. [Exeunt.

LIFE AND DEATH OF

KING RICHARD III.

PERSONS REPRESENTED.

KING EDWARD THE FOURTH.

Prince of Wales, afterwards King "1 Edivard V. > Sons to the King. RICHARD, Duke of York, ) GEORGE, DuJce of Clarence, ^ RICHARD, Duke of Gloster, afterwards King > Brothers to the King. Rkltard III. ) EDWARD,

A YOUNG SON OF CLARENCE. HENRY, Earl of Richmond, afterwards King Henry VII. CARDINAL BOURCHEER, Archbishop of Canterbury. THOMAS ROTHERHAM, Archbishop of York. JOHN MORTON, Bishop of Ely. DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. DUKE OF NORFOLK. E A R L or SURREY, his Son. EARL OF RIVERS, Brother to King Edward's Queen. MARQUIS OF DORSET, AND LORD GREY, her Sons. E A R L OF OXFORD. LORD HASTINGS. LORD STANLEY. LORD LOVEL. SIR THOMAS VAUGHAN. SIR RICHARD RATCLIFF. SIR WILLIAM CATESBY, SIR JAMES TVRREL. SIR JAMES BLOUNT. SIR WALTER HERBERT. SIR ROBERT BRAKENBURY, Lieutenant off lie Tower. CHRISTOPHER URSWICK, a Priest. ANOTHER PRIEST. LORD MAYOR OF LONDON. SHERIFF OF WILTSHIRE. ELIZABETH, Queen of King Edtvard IV. MARGARET, Widow of King Henry VI DUCHESS OF YORK, Mother to King Edward IV, Clarence, and Gloster. LADY ANNE, Widow of Edward, Prince of Wales, Sm to King Henry VI;

afterwards married to the Duke of Gloster. A YOUNG DAUGHTER OF CLARENCE.

Lords, and other Attendants; tioo Gentlemen, a Pursuivant, Scrivener, Citizens, Murderers, Messengers, Ghosts, Soldiers, <5cc. SCENE—*Engl and.

LIFE AND DEATH OP

KING

RICHARD I I I .

ACT I. SCENE I.—LONDON,

A Street.

Enter GLOSTER. Gloster. Now is the winter of our discontent Made glorious summer by this sun of York; And all the clouds, that low'r'd upon our house, In the deep bosom of the ocean buried. Now are our brows bound with victorious wreaths; Our bruised arms hung up for monuments; Our stern alarums chang'd to merry meetings, Our dreadful marches to delightful measures.1 Grim-visag'd war hath smooth'd his wrinkled front; And now,—instead of mounting barbed2 steeds, To fright the souls of fearful adversaries,— He capers nimbly in a lady's chamber, To the lascivious pleasing of a lute. But I,—that am not shap'd for sportive tricky Nor made to court an amorous looking-glass; I, that am rudely stamp'd and want love's majesty, To strut before a wanton ambling nymph; I, that am curtail'd of this fair proportion, Cheated of feature by dissembling nature, Deform'd, unfinish'd, sent before my time 1

Dances.

2

Armed.

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KING RICHARD III.

Into this breathing world, scarce half made up ; And that so lamely and unfashionable, That dogs bark at me, as I halt by them;— Why I, in this weak piping time of peace, Have no delight to pass away the time; Unless to spy my shadow in the sun, And descant on mine own deformity; And therefore, since I cannot prove a lover, To entertain these fair well-spoken days,— I am determined to prove a villain, And hate the idle pleasures of these days,— Plots have I laid, inductions3 dangerous, By drunken prophecies, libels, and dreams, To set my brother Clarence, and the king, In deadly hate the one against the other: And, if king Edward be as true and just As I am subtle, false, and treacherous, This day should Clarence closely be mew'd up; About a prophecy, which says—that G Of Edward's heirs the murderer shall be. Dive, thoughts, down to my soul! here Clarence comes. Enter CLARENCE, guarded, and BRAKENBURY. Brother, good day: What means this armed guard That waits upon your grace? Clarence. His majesty, Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed This conduct to convey me to the Tower. Gloster. Upon what cause? Clarence. Because my name is—George. Gloster. Alack, my lord, that fault is none of yours; He should, for that, commit your godfathers: Belike his majesty hath some intent, That you shall be new christen'd in the Tower. But what's the matter, Clarence? may I know? Clwence. Yea, Richard, when I know; for I protest, As yet I do not: But, as I can learn, He hearkens after prophecies, and dreams; 3

Preparations for mischief.

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285

And from the cross-row plucks the letter G, And says—a wizard told him, that by G His issue disinherited should be; And, for my name of George begins with G, I t follows in his thought that I am he: These as I learn, and such like toys as these, Have mov'd his highness to commit me now. Gloster. 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 she, That tempers him to this extremity. Was it not she, and that good man of worship, Antony Woodeville, her brother there, That made him send lord Hastings to the Tower; From whence this present day he is delivered? We are not safe, Clarence, we are not safe. Clarence. By heaven, I think, there is no man secure, But the queen's kindred, and night-walking heralds That trudge betwixt the king and mistress Shore. Heard you not what an humble suppliant Lord Hastings was to her for his delivery? Gloster. Humbly complaining to her deity Got my lord chamberlain his liberty. I'll tell you what,—I think, it is our way, If we will keep in favour with the king, To be her men, and wear her livery: The jealous o'er-worn widow, and herself,4 Since that our brother dubb'd them gentlewomen, Are mighty gossips in this monarchy. Brakenbwry. I beseech your graces both to pardon me; His majesty hath straitly given in charge, That no man shall have private conference, Of what degree soever, with his brother. Gloster. Even so? an please your worship, Brakenbury, You may partake of any thing we say: We speak no treason, man;—We say, the king Is wise, and virtuous; and his noble queen Well struck in years; fair, and not jealous: 4

The queen and Shore.

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KING RICHARD III.

We say, that Shore's wife hath a pretty foot, A cherry lip, A bonny eye, a passing pleasing tongue ; And the queen's kindred are made gentlefolks: How say you, sir? can you deny all this? Brakenbury. With this, my lord, myself have nought to do, And I beseech your grace to pardon me; and, withal, Forbear your conference with the noble duke. Clarence. We know thy charge, Brakenbury, and will obey. Gloster. We are the queen's abjects, and must obey. Brother, farewell: I will unto the king; And whatsoever you will employ me in,— Were it, to call king Edward's widow—sister,— I will perform it to enfranchise you. Mean time, this deep disgrace in brotherhood, Touches me deeper than you can imagine. Clarence. I know it pleaseth neither of us well. Gloster. Well, your imprisonment shall not be long; I will deliver you, or else lie for you: Mean time, have patience. Clarence. I must perforce; farewell. [Exeumt CLARENCE, BRAKENBURY, and GUARD. Gloster. Go, tread the path that thou shalt ne'er return, Simple, plain Clarence!—I do love thee so, That I will shortly send thy soul to heaven, If heaven will take the present at our hands. But who comes here? the new-deliver'd Hastings? Enter HASTINGS. Hastings. Good time of day unto my gracious lord! Gloster. As much unto my good lord chamberlain! Well are you welcome to this open air. How hath your lordship brook'd imprisonment? Hastings. With patience,noble lord, as prisoners must: But I shall live, my lord, to give them thanks, That were the cause of my imprisonment. Gloster. No doubt, no doubt; and so shall Clarence too;

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287

For they that were your enemies are his, And have prevail'd as much on him, as you. Hastings. More pity that the eagle should be mew'd, "While kites and buzzards prey at liberty. Gloster. What news abroad? Hastings. No news so bad abroad, as this at home;— The king is sickly, weak, and melancholy, And his physicians fear him mightily. Gloster. Now, by saint Paul, this news is bad indeed. O, he hath kept an evil diet long, And over-much consum'd his royal person; 'Tis very grievous to be thought upon. What, is he in his bed ? Hastings. He is. Gloster. Go you before, and I will follow you. [Exit HASTINGS* He cannot live, I hope; and must not die, Till George be pack'd with post-horse up to heaven. I'll in, to urge his hatred more to Clarence, With lies well steel'd with weighty arguments; And, if I fail not in my deep intent, Clarence hath not another day to live: Which done, Heaven take king Edward to his mercy, And leave the world for me to bustle in! For then I'll marry Warwick's youngest 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 love, As for another secret close intent, By marrying her, which I must reach unto, But yet I run before my horse to market: Clarence still breathes: Edward still lives, and reigns; When they are gone, then must I count my gains.

[Exit.

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II.—Another Street.

Enter the Corpse of KING HENRY THE SIXTH, borm in an open Coffin; GENTLEMEN bearing Halberds, to guwd it; and LADY ANNE as Mourner. Anne. Set down, set down your honourable load,— If honour may be shrouded in a hearse,— Whilst I a while obsequiously5 lament The untimely fall of virtuous Lancaster.— Poor key-cold figure of a holy king! Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster! Thou bloodless remnant of that royal blood! Be it lawful that I invocate thy ghost, To hear the lamentations of poor Anne, Wife to thy Edward, to thy slaughtered son, Stabb'd by the self-same hand that made these wounds! Lo, in these windows, that let forth thy life, I pour the helpless balm of my poor eyes:— 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 direful hap betide that hated wretch, That makes us wretched by the death of thee, Than I can wish to adders, spiders, toads, Or any creeping venom'd thing that lives! If ever he have child, abortive be it, Prodigious, and untimely brought to light, Whose ugly and unnatural aspect May fright the hopeful mother at the view; And that be heir to his unhappiness! If ever he have wife, let her be made More miserable by the death of him, Than I am made by my young lord, and thee!— Come, now, toward Chertsey with your holy load, Taken from Paul's to be interred there; And still, as you are weary of the weight, Rest you, whiles I lament king Henry's corse. [The BEARERS take up the Corpse, and advance. 5

With becoming reverence for the dead.

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289

Enter GLOSTER. Glosler. Stay you that bear the corse, and set it down. Anne. What black magician conjures up this fiend, To stop devoted charitable deeds? Gloster. Villains, set down the corse; or, by saint Paul, 111 make a corse of him that disobeys. 1 Gentleman. My lord, stand back, and let the coffin pass. Gloster. Unmanned d dog: stand thou when I command: Advance thy halberd higher than my breast, Or, by saint Paul, 111 strike thee to ray foot, And spurn upon thee, beggar, for thy boldness. [The BEARERS set down the Coffin.

Anne. What, do you tremble? are you all afraid? Alas, I blame you not; for you are mortal, And mortal eyes cannot endure the devil.— Avaunt, thou dreadful minister of hell! Thou hadst but power over his mortal body, His soul thou canst not have; therefore, begone. Gloster. Sweet saint, for charity, be not so curst. Anne. Foul devil, for heaven's sake, hence, and trouble us not; For thou hast made the happy earth thy hell, Fill'd it with cursing cries, and deep exclaims. If thou delight to view thy heinous deeds, Behold this pattern of thy butcheries:— O, gentlemen, see, see! dead Henry's wounds, Open their congeal'd mouths, and bleed afresh!— Blush, blush, thou lump of foul deformity; For 'tis thy presence that exhales this blood From cold and empty veins, where no blood dwells; Thy deed, inhuman and unnatural, Provokes this deluge most unnatural. O Thou, which this blood mad'st, revenge his death! O earth, which this blood drink'st, revenge his death! Either, Heaven, with lightning strike the murderer dead, Or, earth, gape open wide, and eat him quick; VOL. IV.

U

290

KING RICHARD III.

As thou dost swallow up this good king's blood, Which his hell-govern'd arm hath butchered! Gloster. Lady, you know no rules of charity, Which renders good for bad, blessings for curses. Anne. Villain, thou know'st no law of God nor man; No beast so fierce, but knows some touch of pity. Gloster. But I know none, and therefore am no beast. Anne. O wonderful, when devils tell the truth! Gloster. More wonderful when angels are so angry.— Vouchsafe, divine perfection of a woman, Of these supposed evils, to give me leave, By circumstance, but to acquit myself. Anne. Vouchsafe, diffus'd infection of a man, For these known evils, but to give me leave, By circumstance, to curse thy cursed self. Gloster. Fairer than tongue can name thee, let me have Some patient leisure to excuse myself. Anne. Fouler than heart can think thee, thou canst make No excuse current, but to hang thyself. Gloster. By such despair, I should accuse myself. Anne. And, by despairing, shalt thou stand excus'd; For doing worthy vengeance on thyself, That didst unworthy slaughter upon others. Gloster. Say, that I slew them not ? Anne. Why, then, they are not dead: But dead they are, and, devilish slave, by thee. Gloster. I did not kill your husband. Anne. Why, then he is alive. Gloster. Nay, he is dead; and slain by Edward's hand. Anne. In thy soul's throat thou liest: queen Margaret saw Thy murd'rous faulchion smoking in his blood; The which thou once didst bend against her breast, But that thy brothers beat aside the point. Gloster. I was provoked by her sland'rous tongue, That laid their guilt upon my guiltless shoulders. Anne. Thou wast provoked by thy bloody mind,

KING KICHARD III.

291

That never dreamt on aught but butcheries; Didst thou not kill this king? Gloster. I grant ye. Anne. 0, he was gentle, mild, and virtuous. Gloster. The fitter for the King of heaven that hath him. Anne. He is in heaven, where thou shalt never come. Gloster. Let him thank me, that holp to send him thither; For he was fitter for that place, than earth. Anne. And thou unfit for any place but hell. Gloster. Yes, one place else, if you will hear me name it. Anne. Some dungeon. Gloster. Your bed-chamber. Anne. Ill rest betide the chamber where thou liest! Gloster. So will it, madam, till I lie with you. Amw. I hope so. Gloster. I know so.—But, gentle lady Anne,— To leave this keen encounter of our wits, And fall somewhat into a slower method;— Is not the causer of the timeless deaths Of these Plantagenets, Henry and Edward, As blameful as the executioner? Anne. Thou wast the cause, and most accurs'd effect. Gloster. Your beauty was the cause of that effect; Your beauty which did haunt me in my sleep, To undertake the death of all the world. Anne. If I thought that, I tell thee, homicide, These nails should rend that beauty from my cheeks. Gloste7\ These eyes could not endure that beauty's wreck ; You should not blemish it, if I stood by: As all the world is cheered by the sun, So I by that; it is my day, my life. Anne. Black night o'ershade thy day, and death thy life! Gloster. Curse not thyself, fair creature; thou art both, Anne. I would I were, to be reveng'd on thee. Gloster. It is a quarrel most unnatural, To be reveng'd on him that loveth thee.

292

KING KICHARD III.

Anne. It is a quarrel just and reasonable, To be reveng'd on him that kilTd my husband. Gloster. He that bereft thee, lady, of thy husband, Did it to help thee to a better husband. Anne. His better doth not breathe upon the eartli. Gloster. He lives, that loves you better than he could. Anne. Name him. Gloster. Plantagenet. A nne. Why, that was he. Gloster. The self-same name, but one of better nature. A nne. Where is he? Gloster. Here: [She spits at him.] Why dost thou spit at me? Anne. 'Would it were mortal poison, for thy sake! Gloster. Never came poison from so sweet a place. Anne. Never hung poison on a fouler toad. Out of my sight! thou dost infect mine eyes. Gloster. Thine eyes, sweet lady, have infected mine. Anne. Would they were basilisks, to strike thee dead! Gloster. I would they were, that I might die at once; For now they kill me with a living death. Those eyes of thine from mine have drawn salt tears, Shani'd their aspects with store of childish drops: These eyes, which never shed remorseful6 tear,— Not when my father York and Edward wept, To hear the piteous moan that Rutland made, When black-fac'd Clifford shook his sword at him: Nor when thy warlike father, like a child, Told the sad story of my father's death; And twenty times made pause, to sob and weep, That all the standers-by had wet their cheeks, Like trees bedash'd with rain: in that sad time, My manly eyes did scorn an humble tear; And what these sorrows could not hence exhale, Thy beauty hath, and made them blind with weeping. I never su'd to friend, nor enemy; My tongue could never learn sweet soothing word; But now thy beauty is propos'd my fee, 6

Pitying.

KING RICHARD III.

293

My proud heart sues, and prompts my tongue to speak. [SJie looks scornfully at him. Teach not thy lip such scorn; for it was made For kissing, lady, not for such contempt. If thy revengeful heart cannot forgive, Lo! here I lend thee this sharp-pointed sword; Which if thou please to hide in this true breast, And let the soul forth that adoreth thee, I lay it naked to the deadly stroke, And humbly beg the death upon my knee. [He lays his Breast open; she offers at it with his Sword. Nay, do not pause; for I did kill king Henry;— But 'twas thy beauty that provoked me. Nay, now despatch; 'twas I that stabb'd young Edward;— [She again offers at his Breast. But 'twas thy heavenly face that set me on. [She lets fall the Sword. Take up the sword again, or take up me. Anne. Arise, dissembler: though I wish thy death, I will not be thy executioner. Gloster. Then bid me kill myself, and I will do it. Anne. I have already. Gloster. That was in thy rage: Speak it again, and, even with the word, This hand, which for thy love, did kill thy love, Shall, for thy love, kill a far truer love; To both their deaths shalt thou be accessary. Anne. I would, I knew thy heart. Gloster. 'Tis figur d in my tongue. Anne. I fear me, both are false. Gloster. Then man was never true. Anne. Well, well, put up your sword. Gloster. Say then, my peace is made. Anne. That shall you know hereafter Gloster. But shall 1 live in hope? Anne. All men, I hope, live so. Gloster. Vouchsafe to wear this ring. Anne. To take, is not to give. [Sheputs on the ring.

294

KING RICHARD III.

Gloster. Look, how this ring encompasseth thy finger; Even so thy breast encloseth my poor heart; Wear both of them, for both of them are thine. And if thy poor devoted servant may But beg one favour at thy gracious hand, Thou dost confirm his happiness for ever. Anne. What is it? Gloster. That it may please you leave these sad designs To him that hath more cause to be a mourner, And presently repair to Crosby-place:7 Where—after I have solemnly interr'd, At Chertsey monast'ry this noble king, And wet his grave with my repentant tears, I will with all expedient duty see you. For divers unknown reasons, I beseech you, Grant me this boon. Anne. With all my heart; and much it joys me too, To see you are become so penitent.— Tressel, and Berkley, go along with me. Gloster. Bid me farewell. Anne. 'Tis more than you deserve; But, since you teach me how to flatter you, Imagine I have said farewell already. \Exeunt LADY ANNE, TRESSEL, and BERKLEY. Gloster. Take up the corse, sirs. Gentleman. Towards Chertsey, noble lord ? Gloster. No, to White Friars; there attend my coming. [Exeunt the rest, with the Corpse. Was ever woman in this humour woo'd? Was ever woman in this humour won? I'll have her,—but I will not keep her long. What! I, that kill'd her husband, and his father, To take her in her heart's extremest hate; With curses in her mouth, tears in her eyes, The bleeding witness of her hatred by; With Heaven, her conscience, and these bars against me, And I no Mends to back my suit withal, 7

In Bishopsgate-street.

KING RICHARD ill.

295

But the plain devil and dissembling looks, And yet to win her,—all the world to nothing! Ha! * Hath she forgot already that brave prince, Edward, her lord, whom I some three months since, Stabb'd in my angry mood at Tewksbury? A sweeter and a lovelier gentleman,— Fram'd in the prodigality of nature, Young, valiant, wise, and, no doubt, right royal,— The spacious world cannot again afford: And will she yet abase her eyes on me, That cropp'd the golden prime of this sweet prince, And made her widow to a woful bed? On me, whose all not equals Edward's moiety? On me, that halt, and am misshapen thus? My dukedom to a beggarly denier,8 I do mistake my person all this while: Upon my life, she finds, although I cannot, Myself to be a marvellous proper man, I'll be at charges for a looking glass; And entertain a score or two of tailors, To study fashions to adorn my body; Since I am crept in favour with myself, I will maintain it with some little cost. But, first, I'll turn yon' fellow in his grave; And then return lamenting to my love.— Shine out, fair sun, till I have bought a glass, That I may see my shadow as I pass. [Exit. III.—A Boom in the Palace. Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH, LORD KIVERS, <m^LoRD GREY. Rivers. Have patience, madam, there's no doubt, his majesty Will soon recover his accustom'd health. Grey. In that you brook it ill, it makes him worse: Therefore, for heaven's sake, entertain good comfort, And cheer his grace with quick and merry words, SCENE

8

A small French coin.

296

KING RICHARD III.

Queen Elizabeth. If he were dead, what would betide of me? Grey. No other harm but loss of such a lord. Queen Elizabeth. The loss of such a lord includes all harms. Grey. The heavens have bless'd you with a goodly son, To be your comforter, when he is gone. Queen Elizabeth. Ah, he is young; and his minority Is put unto the trust of Richard Gloster, A man that loves not me, nor none of you. Rivers. Is it concluded he shall be protector? Queen Elizabeth. It is determined, not concluded yet: But so it must be, if the king miscarry. Enter

BUCKINGHAM

and

STANLEY.

Grey. Here come the lords of Buckingham and Stanley. Buckingham. Good time of day unto your royal grace! Stanley. Heaven make your majesty joyful as you have been! Queen Elizabeth. The countess Richmond, good my lord of Stanley, To your good prayer will scarcely say—amen. Yet, Stanley, notwithstanding she's your wife, And loves not me, be you, good lord, assur'd, I hate not you for her proud arrogance. Stanley. I do beseech you, either not believe The envious slanders of her false accusers; Or, if she be accus'd on true report, Bear with her weakness, which, I think, proceeds From wayward sickness, and no grounded malice. Queen Elizabeth. Saw you the king to-day, my lord of Stanley? Stanley. But now the duke of Buckingham, and I, Are come from visiting his majesty. Queen Elizabeth. What likelihood of his amendment, lords? Buckingham. Madam, good hope; his grace speaks cheerfully.

KING RICHARD III.

297

Queen Elizabeth God grant him health! Did you confer with him? Buckinglwrnn. Ay, madam, he desires to make atonement Between the duke of Gloster and your brothers, And between them and my lord chamberlain; And sent to warn them to his royal presence. Queen Elizabeth. Would all were well!—But that will never be;— I fear, our happiness is at the height. Enter

GLOSTER, HASTINGS,

and

DORSET.

Gloster. They do me wrong, and I will not endure it.— Who are they, that complain unto the king, That I, forsooth, am stern, and love them not? By holy Paul, they love his grace but lightly, That fill his ears with such dissentious rumours. Because I cannot flatter, and speak fair, Smile in men's faces, smooth, deceive, and cog, Duck with French nods, and apish courtesy, I must be held a rancorous enemy. Cannot a plain man live, and think no harm, But thus his simple truth must be abus'd By silken, sly, insinuating Jacks 1 Grey. To whom in all this presence speaks your grace ? Gloster. To thee, that hast nor honesty, nor grace. When have I injur'd thee? when done thee wrong? Or thee?—or thee?—or any of your faction? A plague upon you all! His royal grace,— Whom God preserve better than you would wish!— Cannot be quiet scarce a breathing-while, But you must trouble him with rude complaints. Queen Elizabeth. Brother of Gloster, you mistake the matter: The king, of his own royal disposition, And not provok'd by any suitor else: Aiming, belike, at your interior hatred, That in your outward action shows itself,

298

KING RICHAKD III.

Against my children, brothers, and myself; Makes him to send; that thereby he may gather The ground of your ill-will, and so remove it. Gloster. I cannot tell;—The world is grown so bad, That wrens may prey where eagles dare not perch. Since every Jack 9 became a gentleman, There's many a gentle person made a Jack. Queen Elizabeth. Come, come, we know your meaning, brother Gloster: You envy my advancement, and my friends; Heaven grant, we never may have need of you! Gloster. Meantime, heaven grants that we have need of you! Our brother is imprison'd by your means, Myself disgrac'd, and the nobility Held in contempt; while great promotions Are daily given, to ennoble those That scarce, some two days since, were worth a noble.1 Queen Elizabeth. By him that rais'd me to this careful height From that contented hap which I enjoy'd, I never did incense his majesty Against the duke of Clarence, but have been An earnest advocate to plead for him. My lord, you do me shameful injury, Falsely to draw me in these vile suspects. Gloster. You may deny that you were not the cause Of my lord Hastings' late imprisonment. Rivers. She may, my lord; for Gloster. She may, lord Rivers]—why, who knows not so? She may do more, sir, than denying that: She may help you to many fair preferments; And then deny her aiding hand therein, And lay those honours on your high desert. What may she not? She may,—ay, marry may she.—• Rivers. What, marry, may she? Gloster. What marry, may she? marry with a king, °Low fellow.

x

A coin rated at 6s, 8d.

KING RICHARD III.

299

A bachelor, a handsome stripling too: 1 wis,2 your grandam had a worser match. Queen Elizabeth. My lord of Gloster, I have too long borne Your blunt upbraidings, and your bitter scoffs: By heaven, I will acquaint his majesty, Of those gross taunts I often have endur'd. I had rather be a country servant-maid, Than a great queen with this condition—• To be so baited, scorn'd, and stormed at: Small joy have I in being England's queen. Enter

QUEEN MARGARET, behind.

Queen Margaret. And lessen'd be that small, God, I beseech thee! Thy honour, state, and seat, is due to me. Gloster. What? threat you me with telling of the king? Tell him, and spare not: look, what I have said I will avouch, in presence of the king: I dare adventure to be sent to the Tower. 'Tis time to speak, my pains are quite forgot. Queen Margaret. Out, devil! I remember them too well: Thou kill'dst my husband Henry in the Tower, And Edward, my poor son, at Tewksbury. Gloster. Ere you were queen, ay, or your husband king, I was a pack-horse in his great affairs; A weeder-out of his proud adversaries, A liberal rewarder of his friends; To royalize his blood, I spilt mine own. Queen Margaret. Ay, and much better blood than his, or thine. Gloster. In all which time, you, and your husband Grey, Were factious for the house of Lancaster;— 2

Think.

300

KING RICHARD III.

And Rivers, so were you:—Was not your husband In Margaret's battle at Saint Alban's slain? Let me put in your minds, if you forget, What you have been ere now, and what you are; Withal, what I have been, and what I am. Queen Margaret. A murd'rous villain, and so still thou art. Ghster. Poor Clarence did forsake his father Warwick, Ay, and forswore himself,—Which Jesu pardon! Queen Margaret. Which God revenge! Gloster. To fight on Edward's party, for the crown; And, for his meed, poor lord, he is mew'd up: I would to heaven, my heart were flint like Edward's, Or Edward's soft and pitiful, like mine; I am too childish-foolish for this world. Queen Margaret. Hie thee to hell for shame, and leave this world. Rivers. My lord of Gloster, in those busy days Which here you urge to prove us enemies, We foliow'd then our lord, our lawful king; So should we you, if you should be our king. Gloster. If I should be?—I had rather be a pedlar. Far be it from my heart, the thought thereof! Queen Elizabeth. As little joy, my lord, as you suppose You should enjoy, were you this country's king; As little joy you may suppose in me, That I enjoy, being the queen thereof. Queen Margaret. A little joy enjoys the queen thereof; For I am she, and altogether joyless. I can no longer hold me patient.— [Advancing. Hear me, you wrangling pirates, that fall out In sharing that which you have pill'd3 from me: Which of you trembles not, that looks on me: If not, that I being queen, you bow like subjects, Yet that, by you depos'd, you quake like rebels?— Ah, gentle villain, do not turn away! Gloster. Foul wrinkled witch, what mak'st thou in my sight? 3

Pillaged.

KING RICHARD III.

301

Queen Margaret. But repetition of what thou hast marr'd; That will I make, before I let thee go. Gloster. Wert thou not banished on pain of death ? Queen Margaret I was; but I do find more pain in banishment, Than death can yield me here by my abode. A husband, and a son, thou ow'st to me,— And thou, a kingdom;—all of you, allegiance: This sorrow that I have, by right is yours; And all the pleasures you usurp are mine. Gloster. The curse my noble father laid on thee, When thou didst crown his warlike brows with paper, And with thy scorns drew'st rivers from his eyes; And then to dry them, gav'st the duke a clout, Steep'd in the faultless blood of pretty Rutland;— His curses, then from bitterness of soul Denounc'd against thee, are all fall'n upon thee; And God, not we, hath plagu'd thy bloody deed. Queen Elizabeth. So just is God, to right the innocent. Hastings. O, 'twas the foulest deed to slay that babe, And the most merciless, that e'er was heard of. Rivers. Tyrants themselves wept when it was reported. Dorset No man but prophesied revenge for it. Buckingham. Northumberland, then present, wept to see it. Queen Margaret What! were you snarling all, before I came, Ready to catch each other by the throat, And turn you all your hatred now on me? Did York's dread curse prevail so much with heaven, That Henry's death, my lovely Edward's death, Their kingdom's loss, my woftil banishment, Could all but answer for that peevish brat? Can curses pierce the clouds, and enter heaven?— Why, then give way, dull clouds, to my quick curses!— Though not by war, by surfeit die your king, As ours l»y murder, to make him a king! Edward, thy son. that now is prince of Wales,

302

KING RICHARD III.

For Edward, my son, that was prince of Wales, Die in his youth, by like untimely violence! Thyself a queen, for me that was a queen, Outlive thy glory like my wretched self! Long mayst thou live, to wail thy children's loss; And see another, as I see thee now, Deck'd in thy rights, as thou art stall'd in mine! Long die thy happy days before thy death; And after many lengthened hours of grief, Die neither mother, wife, nor England's queen!— Rivers,—and Dorset,—you vere standers by,— And so wast thou, lord Hastings,—when my son Was stabb'd with bloody daggers; God, I pray him, That none of you may live your natural age, But by some unlook'd accident cut off! Gloster. Have done thy charm, thou hateful wither'd hag. Queen Margaret And leave out thee? stay, dog, for thou shalt hear me. If heaven have any grievous plague in store, Exceeding those that I can wish upon thee, O, let them keep it, till thy sins be ripe, And then hurl down their indignation On thee, the troubler of the poor world's peace! The worm of conscience still be-gnaw thy soul! Thy friends suspect for traitors while thou liv'st, And take deep traitors for thy dearest friends! No sleep close up that deadly eye of thine, Unless it be while some tormenting dream Affrights thee with a hell of ugly devils! Thou elvish mark'd, abortive, rooting hog! Thou that was seal'd in thy nativity The slave of nature, and the son of hell! Thou rag of honour! thou detested Gloster. Margaret, Queen Margaret Richard! Gloster. Ha? Queen Margaret. I c a n thee not. Gloster. I cry thee mercy then; for I did think, That thou hadst call'd me all these bitter names.

KING RICHARD III.

303

Queen Margaret Why, so I did; but look'd for no reply, O let me make the period to my curse. Gloster. "Tis done by me; and ends in—Margaret. Queen Elizabeth. Thus have you breath'd your curse against yourself. Queen Margaret Poor painted queen, vain flourish of my fortune! Why strew'st thou sugar on that bottled spider,4 Whose deadly web ensnareth thee about ? Fool, fool! thou whet'st a knife to kill thyself. The day will come, that thou shalt wish for me To help thee curse this pois'nous hunch-back'd toad. Hastings. False-boding woman, end thy frantick curse ; Lest, to thy harm, thou move our patience. Queen Margaret Foul shame upon you! you have all mov'd mine. Rivers. Were you well serv'd, you would be taught your duty. Queen Margaret To serve me well, you all should do me duty, Teach me to be your queen, and you my subjects: O, serve me well, and teach yourselves that duty. Dorset Dispute not with her, she is lunatick. Queen Margaret. Peace, master marquis, you are malapert: Your fine new stamp of honour is scarce current: 5 O that your young nobility could judge, What 'twere to lose it and be miserable! They that stand high, have many blasts to shake them; And, if they fall, they dash themselves to pieces. Gloster. Good counsel, marry;—learn it, learn it, marquis. Dorset It touches you, my lord, as much as me. Gloster. Ay, and much more: But I was bom so high, Our aieryG buildeth in the cedar's top, And dallies with the wind, and scorns the sun. 4 5

Alluding to Gloster's form and venom. He was just created marquis of Dorset

6

Nest.

304

KING RICHARD III.

Queen Margaret. And turns the sun to shade;—alas! alas!— Witness my son, now in the shade of death; Whose bright out-shining beams thy cloudy wrath Hath in eternal darkness folded up. Your aiery buildeth in our aiery's nest:— O God, that seest it, do not suffer it; As it was won with blood, lost be it so S Buckingham. Peace, peace, for shame, if not for charity. Queen Margaret. Urge neither charity nor shame to me; Uncharitably with me have you dealt, And shamefully by you my hopes are butcher'd. My charity is outrage, life my shame,— And in my shame still live my sorrow's rage! Buckingham. Have done, have done. Queen Margaret. O princely Buckingham, I kiss thy hand, In sign of league and amity with thee: Now fair befall thee, and thy noble house! Thy garments are not spotted with our blood, Nor thou within the compass of my curse. Buckingham. Nor no one here; for curses never pass The lips of those that breathe them in the air. Queen Margaret. I'll not believe but they ascend the sky* O Buckingham, beware of yonder dog; Look, when he fawns, he bites; and, when he bites, His venom tooth will rankle to the death: Have not to do with him, beware of him; Sin, death, and hell have set their marks on him; And all their ministers attend on him. Gloster. What doth she say, my lord of Buckingham? Buckingham. Nothing that I respect, my gracious lord. Quern Margaret. What, dost thou scorn me for my gentle counsel? And soothe the devil that I warn thee from? O, but remember this another day, When he shall split thy very heart with sorrow; And say, poor Margaret was a prophetess.—

KING BICHABD III.

305

Live each of you the subjects to his hate, And he to yours, and all of you to God's! [Exit. Hastings. My hair doth stand on end to hear her curses. Rivers. And so doth mine; I muse,7 why she's at liberty. Gloster. I cannot blame her, She hath had too much wrong, and I repent My part thereof, that I have done to her. Queen Elizabeth. I never did her any, to my knowledge. Gloster. Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong. I was too hot to do some body good, That is too cold in thinking of it now. Marry, as for Clarence, he is well repaid; He is frank'd8 up to fatting for his pains;— Heaven pardon them that are the cause thereof! Rivers. A virtuous and a christian-like conclusion. To pray for them that have done scath9 to us. Gloster. So do I ever, being well advis'd;— For had I curs'd now, I had curs'd myself. [Aside. Enter CATESBY. Catesby. Madam, his majesty cloth call for you,— And for your grace,—and you, my noble lords. Queen Elizabeth. Catesby, I come;—Lords, will you go with me? Rivers. Madam, we will attend upon your grace. [Exeunt all but GLOSTER, Gloster. I do the wrong, and first begin to brawl. The secret mischiefs that I set abroach, I lay unto the grievous charge of others. Clarence,—whom I, indeed, have laid in darkness,— I do beweep to many simple gulls; Namely, to Stanley, Hastings, Buckingham; And tell them—'tis the queen, and her allies, That stir the king against the duke my brother. Now they believe it; and withal whet me To be reveng'd on Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: But then I sigh, and with a piece of scripture, 7

Wonder. VOL. IV.

8

Put in a sty.

* Harm X

306

KING RICHARD III.

Tell them—that God bids us do good for evil: And thus I clothe my naked villainy With old odd ends, stol'n forth of holy writ, And seem a saint, when most I play the deviL Enter two MURDERERS. But soft, here come my executioners.— How now, my hardy, stout resolved mates'? Are you now going to despatch this thing? 1 Murderer. We are, my lord; and come to have the warrant, That we may be admitted where he is. Gloster. Well thought upon, I have it here about me: [Gives the Warrant

When you have done, repair to Crosby-place. But, sirs, be sudden in the execution, Withal obdurate, do not hear him plead; For Clarence is well spoken, and, perhaps, May move your hearts to pity, if you mark him. 1 Murderer. Tut, tut, my lord, we will not stand to prate, We go to use our hands, and not our tongues. Talkers are no good doers; be assured. Gloster. Your eyes drop mill-stones, when fools' eyes drop tears: I like you, lads;—about your business straight; Go, go, despatch. 1 Murderer. We will, my noble lord. [Exeunt IV.—A Room in the TOWER. Enter CLARENCE and BRAKENBURY. Brakenhury. Why looks your grace so heavily to-day? Clarence. O, I have pass'd a miserable night, So full of fearful dreams, of ugly sights, That as I am a Christian faithful man, I would not spend another such a night, Though 'twere to buy a world of happy days; So full of dismal terror was the time. SCENE

KING RICHARD III.

307

Brahenhury. What was your dream, my lord? I pray you, tell me. Clarence. Methought that I had broken from the Tower, And was embark'd to cross to Burgundy; And, in my company, my brother Gloster: Who from my cabin tempted me to walk Upon the hatches; thence we look'd toward England, And cited up a thousand heavy times, During the wars of York and Lancaster, That had befallen us. As we pac'd along Upon the giddy footing of the hatches, Methought, that Gloster stumbled; and, in falling, Struck me, that thought to stay him, overboard, Into the tumbling billows of the main. O heaven! methought, what pain it was to drown! What dreadful noise of water in mine ears! What sights of ugly death within mine eyes! Methought, I saw a thousand fearful wrecks; A thousand men, that fishes knaw'd upon; Wedges of gold, great anchors, heaps of pearl, Inestimable stones, unvalu'd jewels, All scattered in the bottom of the sea. Some lay in dead men's skulls; and, in those holes Where eyes did once inhabit, there were crept (As 't were in scorn of eyes) reflecting gems, That woo'd the slimy bottom of the deep, And mock'd the dead bones that lay scatter'd by. Brakenbury. Had you such leisure in the time of death, To gaze upon these secrets of the deep ? Clarence. Methought, I had; and often did I strive To yield the ghost: but still the envious flood Kept in my soul, and would not let it forth To seek the empty, vast, and wand'ring air; But smother'd it within iny panting bulk, Which almost burst to belch it in the sea. Brakenbury. Awak'd you not with this sore agony? Clarence. O, no, my dream was lengtheu'd after life; 0, then began the tempest to my soul!

308

KING RICHARD III.

I pass'd, niethought, the melancholy flood, With that grim ferryman which poets write o£ Unto the kingdom of perpetual night. The first that there did greet my stranger soul, Was my great father-in-law, renowned Warwick, Who cry'd aloud—What scourge for perjury Can this dark monarchy afford false Clarence ? And so he vanish'd: Then came wand'ring by A shadow like an angel, with bright hair Dabbled in blood; and he shriek'd out aloud,— Clarence is come,—false, fleeting, perjurd Clarence,— That stabUd me in the field by Tewksbury ;— Seize on him, furies, take him to your torments! With that, methought, a legion of foul fiends Environ'd me, and howled in mine ears Such hideous cries, that, with the very noise, I trembling wak'd, and, for a season after, Could not believe but that I was in hell; Such terrible impression made my dream. Brakenbury. No marvel,lord, though it affrighted you; I am afraid, methinks, to hear you tell it. Clarence. O, Brakenbury, I have done these things,— That now give evidence against my soul,— For Edward's sake; and, see, how he requites me!— 0 God! if my deep prayers cannot appease thee, But thou wilt be aveng'd on my misdeeds, Yet execute thy wrath on me alone: O, spare my guiltless wife, and my poor children!— 1 pray thee, gentle keeper, stay by me; My soul is heavy, and I fain would sleep. Brakenbury. I will, my lord; God give your grace good rest!— [CLARENCE reposes himself on a Sorrow breaks seasons, and reposing hours, Makes the night morning, and the noon-tide night, Princes have but their titles for their glories, An outward honour for an inward toil; And, for unfelt imaginations, They often feel a world of restless cares:

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So that between their titles, and low name, There's nothing differs but the outward fame. Enter the two MURDERERS. 1 Murderer. Ho! who's here? Brakenbury. What would'st thou, fellow? and how cani'st thou hither? 1 Murderer. I would speak with Clarence, and I came hither on my legs. Brakenbury. What, so brief? 2 Mwrderer. O, sir, 'tis better to be brief than tedious:— Let him see our commission; talk no more. [A Paper is delivered to BRAKENBURY, who reads it. Brakenbury. I am, in this, commanded to deliver The noble duke of Clarence to your hands:— I will not reason what is meant hereby, Because I will be guiltless of the meaning. Here are the keys;—there sits the duke asleep: I'll to the king; and signify to him, That I thus have resigned to you my charge. 1 Murderer. You may, sir; 'tis a point of wisdom: Fare you well. [Exit BRAKENBURY. 2 Murderer. What, shall we stab him as he sleeps? 1 Murderer. No; he'll say, 'twas done cowardly, when he wakes. 2 Murderer. When he wakes! why, fool, he shall never wake until the great judgment day. 1 Murderer. Why, then he'll say, we stabb'd him sleeping. 2 Murderer. The urging of that word, judgment, hath bred a kind of remorse in me. 1 Murderer. What? art thou afraid? 2 Murderer. Not to kill him, having a warrant for it; but to be damn'd for killing him, from the which no warrant can defend me. 1 Murderer. I thought, thou hadst been resolute. 2 Murderer. So I am, to let him live.

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1 Murderer. I'll back to the duke of Gloster, and tell him so. 2 Murderer. Nay, I pr'ythee, stay a little: I hope, this holy humour of mine will change; it was wont to hold me but while one would tell twenty. 1 Murderer. How dost thou feel thyself now? 2 Murderer. 'Faith some certain dregs of conscience are yet within me. 1 Murderer. Remember our reward, when the deed's done. 2 Murderer. Come, he dies; I had forgot the reward. 1 Murderer. Where's thy conscience now? 2 Murderer. In the duke of Gloster's purse. 1 Murderer. So when he opens his purse to give us our reward, thy conscience flies out. 2 Murderer. 'Tis no matter; let it go; there's few, or none, will entertain it. 1 Murderer. What, if it come to thee again? 2 Murderer. I'll not meddle with it, it is a dangerous thing, it makes a man a coward; a man cannot steal, but it accuseth him; a man cannot swear, but it checks him. 'Tis a blushing shame-faced spirit, that mutinies in a man's bosom; it fills one full of obstacles: it made me once restore a purse of gold, that by chance I found; it beggars any man that keeps it: it is turned out of all towns and cities for a dangerous thing; and every man, that means to live well, endeavours to trust to himself, and live without it. 1 Murderer. 'Zounds, it is even now at my elbow, persuading me not to kill the duke. 2 Murderer. Take the devil in thy mind, and believe him not: he would insinuate with thee, but to make thee sigh. 1 Murderer. I am strong-fram'd, he cannot prevail with me. 2 Murderer. Spoke like a tall 9 fellow, that respects his reputation. Come, shall we fall to work? 1 Murderer. Take him over the costard1 with the 9

Brave.

i Head.

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hilts of thy sword, and then throw him into the malmseybutt, in the next room. 2 Murderer. O excellent device! and make a sop of him. 1 Murderer. Soft! he wakes. 2 Murderer. Strike. 1 Murderer. No, we'll reason with him. Clarence. Where art thou, keeper? give me a cup of wine. 1 Murderer. You shall have wine enough, my lord, anon. Clarence. In God's name, what art thou? 1 Murderer. A man, as you are. Clarence. But not, as I am, royal. 1 Murderer. Nor you, as we are, loyal. Clarence. Thy voice is thunder, but thy looks are humble. 1 Murderer. My voice is now the king's, my looks mine own. Clarence. How darkly, and how deadly dost thou speak! Your eyes do menace me: Why look you pale? Who sent you hither? Wherefore do you come? Both Murderers. To, to, to, Clarence. To murder me? Both Murderers. Ay, ay. Clarence. You scarcely have the hearts to tell me so, And therefore cannot have the hearts to do it. Wherein, my friends, have I offended you? 1 Murderer. Offended us you have not, but the king. Clarence. I shall be reconcil'd to him again. 2 Murderer. Never, my lord; therefore prepare to die. Clarence. Are you call'd forth from out a world of men, To slay the innocent? What is my offence? Where is the evidence that doth accuse me? What lawful quest2 have given their verdict up Unto the frowning judge? or who pronounc'd The bitter sentence of poor Clarence' death? Before I be convict by course of law, 2

Inquest, jury.

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To threaten me with death is most unlawfuL I charge you, as you hope for any goodness, By Christ's dear blood shed for our grievous sins, That you depart, and lay no hands on me; The deed you undertake is damnable. 1 Murderer. What we will do, we do upon command 2 Murderer. And he, that hath commanded, is our king. Clarence. Erroneous vassal! the great King of kings Hath in the table of his law commanded, That thou shalt do no murder: Wilt thou then Spurn at His edict, and fulfil a man's? Take heed; for he holds vengeance in his hand, To hurl upon their heads that break his law. 2 Murderer. And that same vengeance doth he hurl on tliee, For false forswearing, and for murder too: Thou didst receive the sacrament, to fight In quarrel3 of the house of Lancaster. 1 Murderer. And like a traitor to the name of God, Didst break that vow; and, with thy treacherous blade, Unrip'dst the bowels of thy sovereign's son. 2 Murderer. Whom thou wast sworn to cherish and defend. 1 Murderer. How canst thou urge God's dreadful law to us, When thou hast broke it in such dear degree ? Clarence. Alas! for whose sake did I that ill deed? For Edward, for my brother, for his sake: He sends you not to murder me for this; For in that sin he is as deep as I. If God will be avenged for the deed, O, know you, that he doth it publickly; Take not the quarrel from his powerful arm; He needs no indirect nor lawless course, To cut off those that have offended him. 1 Murderer. Who made thee then a bloody minister, 3

On the part.

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When gallant-springing, brave Plantagenet, That princely novice, was struck dead by thee? Clarence. My brother's love, the devil, and my rage. 1 Murderer. Thy brother's love, our duty, and thy fault, Provoke us hither now to slaughter thee. Clarence. If you do love my brother, hate not me; I am his brother, and I love him well. If you are hir'd for meed,4 go back again, And I will send you to my brother Gloster; Who shall reward you better for my life, Than Edward will for tidings of my death. 2 Murderer. You are deceiv'd, your brother Gloster hates you. Clarence. O, no; he loves me, and he holds me dear: Go you to him from me. Both Murderers. Ay, so we will. Clarence. Tell him, when that our princely father York Bless'd his three sons with his victorious arm, And charg'd us from his soul to love each other, He little thought of this divided friendship: Bid Gloster think on this, and he will weep. 1 Murderer. Ay, mill-stones; as he lesson'd us to weep. Clarence. O, do not slander him, for he is kind, 1 Murderer. Eight, as snow in harvest.—Come, you deceive yourself; 'Tis he that sends us to destroy you here. Clarence. It cannot be; for he bewept my fortune, And hugg'd me in his arms, and swore, with sobs, That he would labour my delivery. 1 Murderer. Why, so he doth, when he delivers you From the earth's thraldom to the joys of heaven, 2 Murderer. Make peace with God, for you must die, my lord. Clarence. Hast thou that holy feeling in thy soul, To counsel me to make my peace with God, And art thou yet to thy own soul so blind, That thou wilt war with God, by murd'ring me? 4

Reward.

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Ah, sirs, consider, he that set you on To do this deed, will hate you for the deed. 2 Murderer. What shall we do? Clarence. Relent, and save your souls. 1 Murderer. Relent! 'tis cowardly, and womanish. Clarence. Not to relent, is beastly, savage, devilish.— Which of you, if you were a prince's son, Being pent 5 from liberty, as I am now,— If two such murderers as yourselves came to you,— Would not entreat for life? — My friend, I spy some pity in thy looks; O, if thine eye be not a flatterer, Come thou on my side, and entreat for me, As you would beg, were you in my distress, A begging prince what beggar pities not? 2 Murderer. Look behind you, my lord. 1 Murderer. Take that, and that; if all this will not do, [Stabs him. I'll drown you in the malmsey-butt within. [JSodt with the body. 2 Murderer. A bloody deed, and desperately despatch'd! How fain, like Pilate, would I wash my hands Of this most grievous guilty murder done! Re-enter first MURDERER. 1 Murderer. How now? what mean'st thou, that thou help'st me not? By heaven, the duke shall know how slack you have been. 2 Murderer. I would he knew, that I had sav'd his brother! Take thou the fee, and tell him what I say; For I repent me that the duke is slain. \Eodt. 1 Murderer. So do not I : go, coward, as thou art.— Well, I'll go hide the body in some hole, Till that the duke give order for his burial: And when I have my meed, I will away; For this will out, and then I must not stay. [Exit. 6

Shut up.

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ACT II. SCENE

I.—A Room in the Palace.

Enter KING EDWARD {led in sick) QUEEN ELIZABETH, DORSET, RIVERS, HASTINGS, BUCKINGHAM, GREY, and

Others.

King Edward. Why, so:—now have I done a good day's work;— You peers continue this united league : I every day expect an embassage From my Redeemer to redeem me hence; And more in peace my soul shall part to heaven, Since I have made my friends at peace on earth. Rivers, and Hastings, take each other's hand; Dissemble not your hatred, swear your love. Rivers. By heaven, my soul is purg'd from grudging hate! And with my hand I seal my true heart's love. Hastings. So thrive I, as I truly swear the like! King Edward. Take heed, you dally not before your king; ^ Lest he, that is the supreme King of kings, Confound your hidden falsehood, and award Either of you to be the other's end. Hastings. So prosper I, as I swear perfect love! Rivers. And I, as I love Hastings with my heart! King Edward. Madam, yourself are not exempt in this,— Nor your son Dorset,—Buckingham, nor you;— You have been factious one against the other. Wife, love lord Hastings, let him kiss your hand; And what you do, do it unfeignedly. Queen Elizabeth. There, Hastings;—I will never more remember Our former hatred; So thrive I, and mine! King Edward. Dorset, embrace him,—Hastings, love lord marquis.

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Dorset. This interchange of love, I here protest, Upon my part shall be inviolable. Hastings. And so swear I. [Embraces DORSET. King Edward. Now, princely Buckingham, seal thou this league. With thy embracements to my wife's allies, And make me happy in your unity. Buckingham. Whenever Buckingham doth turn his hate Upon your grace, [To tlie QUEEN], but with all duteous love

Doth cherish you, and yours, Heaven punish me With hate in those where I expect most love! When I have most need to employ a friend, And most assured that he is a friend, Deep, hollow, treacherous, and full of guile, Be he unto me! this do I beg of heaven, When I am cold in love, to you or yours. [Embracing "RIVERS, dec. King Edward. A pleasing cordial, princely Buckingham, Is this thy vow unto my sickly heart. There wanteth now our brother Gloster here, To make the blessed period of this peace. Buckhujham. And, in good time, here comes the noble duke. Enter GLOSTER. Gloster. Good morrow to my sovereign king, and queen; And, princely peers, a happy time of day! King Edward. Happy, indeed, as we have spent the day:— Brother, we have done deeds of charity; Made peace of enmity, fair love of hate, Between these swelling wrong-incensed peers. Gloster. A blessed labour, my most sovereign liege.— Among this princely heap, if any here, By false intelligence, or wrong surmise, Hold me a foe;

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If I unwittingly, or in my rage, Have aught committed that is hardly borne By any in this presence, I desire To reconcile me to his friendly peace: 5 Tis death to me, to be at enmity; I hate it, and desire all good men's love.— First, madam, I entreat true peace of you, Which I will purchase with my duteous service;— Of you, my noble cousin Buckingham, If ever any grudge were lodg'd between us; Of you, lord Rivers,—and lord Grey, of you, That all without desert have frown'd on me;— Dukes, earls, lords, gentlemen; indeed, of alL I do not know that Englishman alive, With whom my soul is any jot at odds, More than the infant that is born to-night; I thank my God for my humility. Queen Elizabeth. A holy-day shall this be kept hereafter :— I would to heaven all strifes were well compounded.— My sovereign lord, I do beseech your highness To take our brother Clarence to your grace. Gloster. Why, madam, have I offer'd love for this, To be so flouted in this royal presence? Who knows not, that the gentle duke is dead? [They all start. You do him injury to scorn his corse. King Edward. Who knows not he is dead! who knows he is? Queen Elizabeth. All-seeing heaven, what a world is this! Buckingham. Look I so pale, lord Dorset, as the rest? Dorset. Ay, my good lord; and no man in the presence, But his red colour hath forsook his cheeks. King Edioard. Is Clarence dead? the order was revers'd. Gloster. But he, poor man, by your first order died. And that a winged Mercury did bear; Some tardy cripple bore the countermand,

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That came too lag to see him buried:— Heaven grant, that some, less noble, and less loyal, Nearer in bloody thoughts, and not in blood. Deserve not worse than wretched Clarence did, And yet go current from suspicion! Enter STANLEY. Stanley. A boon, my sovereign, for my service done. King Edward. I pr'ythee, peace; my soul is full of sorrow. Stanley. I will not rise, unless your highness hear me. King Edward. Then say at once, what is it thou request'st. Stanley. The forfeit, sovereign, of my servant's life; Who slew to-day a riotous gentleman, Lately attendant on the duke of Norfolk. King Edward. Have I a tongue to doom my brother's death, And shall that tongue give pardon to a slave? My brother kill'd no man, his fault was thought, And yet his punishment was bitter death. Who sued to me for him? who, in my wrath, Kneel'd at my feet, and bade me be advis'd? Who spoke of brotherhood? who spoke of love? Who told me, how the poor soul did forsake The mighty Warwick, and did fight for me? Who told me, in the field of Tewksbury, When Oxford had me down, he rescued me, And said, Dear brother, live, and be a king ? Who told me, when we both lay in the field, Frozen almost to death, how he did lap me Even in his garments; and did give himself, All thin and naked, to the numb-cold night? All this from my remembrance brutish wrath Sinfully pluck'd, and not a man of you Had so much grace to put it in my mind. But when your carters or your waiting-vassals, Have done a drunken slaughter, and defac'd The precious image of our dear Redeemer,

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You straight are on your knees for pardon, pardon; And I, unjustly too, must grant it you.— But for my brother, not a man would speak,— Nor I (ungracious) speak unto myself For him, poor soul.—The proudest of you all Have been beholden to him in his life; Yet none of you would once plead for his life.— 0 God! I fear thy justice will take hold On me, and you, and mine, and yours, for this.— Come, Hastings, help me to my closet. O, Poor Clarence! [Exeunt KING, QUEEN, HASTINGS, RIVERS, DORSET, and GREY.

Gloster. This is the fruit of rashness!—Mark'd you not, How that the guilty kindred of the queen Look'd pale, when they did hear of Clarence' death ? O! they did urge it still unto the king; Heaven will revenge it. Come, lords; will you go, To comfort Edward with our company? Buckingham. We wait upon your grace. [Exeunt. II.—The same. Enter the DUCHESS OF YORK, with a SCENE

SON

and

DAUGHTER of CLARENCE.

Son. Good grandam, tell us; is our father dead? Duchess. No, boy.

Daughter. Why do you so weep soft? and beat your breast; And cry—0 Clarence, my unhappy son ! Son. Why do you look on us, and shake your head. And call us—orphans, wretches, cast-aways, If that our noble father be alive? Duchess. My pretty cousins, you mistake me both. 1 do lament the sickness of the king, As loath to lose him, not your father's death; I t were lost sorrow, to wail one that's lost. Son. Then, grandam, you conclude that he is dead. The king my uncle is to blame for this.

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Ducliess. Peace, children, peace! the king doth love you well: Incapable6 and shallow innocents, You cannot guess who caus'd your father's death. Son. Grandam, we can: for my good uncle Gloster Told me, the king, provok'd to't by the queen, Devis'd impeachments to imprison him : And when my uncle told me so, he wept, And pitied me, and kindly kiss'd my cheek; Bade me rely on him, as on my father, And he woidd love me dearly as his child. Duciiess. Ah, that deceit should steal such gentle shapes And with a virtuous visor hide deep vice! He is my son, ay, and therein my shame, Yet from my breast he drew not this deceit. Son. Think you, my uncle did dissemble, grandam? Duchess. Ay, boy.

Son. I cannot think it. Enter

Hark! what noise is this?

QUEEN ELIZABETH, distractedly; RIVERS DORSET, following her.

and

Queen Elizabeth. Ah! who shall hinder me to wail and weep? To chide my fortune, and torment myself? I l l join with black despair against my soul, And to myself become an enemy. Duchess. What means this scene of rude impatience? Queen Elhahetli. To make an act of tragick violence:— Edward, my lord, thy son, our king, is dead. Why grow the branches, when the root is gone? Why wither not the leaves, that want their sap ?If you will live, lament; if die, be brief; That our swift-winged souls may catch the king's; Or, like obedient subjects, follow him To his new kingdom of perpetual rest. Duchess. Ah, so much interest have I in thy sorrow, 6

Ignorant.

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As I had title in thy noble husband! I have bewept a worthy husband's death, And liv'd by looking on his images: But now two mirrors of his princely semblance Are crack'd in pieces by malignant death; And I for comfort have but one false glass, That grieves me when I see my shame in him. Thou art a widow; yet thou art a mother, And hast the comfort of thy children left thee: But death hath snatch'd my husband from my arms, And pluck'd two crutches from my feeble hands, Clarence and Edward. O, what cause have I, (Thine being but a moiety of my grief,) To over-go thy plaints, and drown thy cries! Son. Ah, aunt! you wept not for our father's death; How can we aid you with our kindred tears? Daughter. Our fatherless distress was left unmoan'd, Your widow-dolour likewise be unwept! Queen Elizabeth. Give me no help in lamentation, I am not barren to bring forth laments: All springs reduce their currents to mine eyes, That I, being govern'd by the wat'ry moon, May send forth plenteous tears to drown the world! Ah, for my husband, for my dear lord Edward 1 Children. Ah, for our father, for our dear lord Clarence! Duchess. Alas, for both, both mine, Edward and Clarence! Queen Elizabeth. What stay had I, but Edward? and he's gone. Children. What stay had we, but Clarence? and he's gone. Duchess. What stays had I, but they? and they are gone. Queen Elizabeth. Was never widow, had so dear a loss. Children. Were never orphans, had so dear a loss. Duchess. Was never mother, had so dear a loss. Alas! I am the mother of these griefs; Their woes are parcell'd,7 mine are general. 7

VOL. IV.

Divided. Y

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KING RICHAED III.

She for an Edward weeps, and so do I ; I for a Clarence weep, so doth not she: These babes for Clarence weep, and so do I : I for an Edward weep, so do not they: Alas! you three, on me, threefold distress'd Pour all your tears; I am your sorrow's nurse, And I will pamper it with lamentations. Dorset. Comfort, dear mother; God is much displeas'd, That you take with unthankfulness his doing; In common worldly things, 'tis call'd—ungrateful, With dull unwillingness to repay a debt, Which with a bounteous hand was kindly lent; Much more to be thus opposite with heaven, For it requires the royal debt it lent you. Rivers. Madam, bethink you, like a careful mother, Of the young prince your son: send straight for him, Let him be crown'd; in him your comfort lives: Drown desperate sorrow in dead Edward's grave, And plant your joys in living Edward's throne. Enter

GLOSTEK, BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, RATCLIFF, and Others.

Gloster. Sister, have comfort: all of us have cause To wail the dimming of our shining star; But none can cure their harms by wailing them.— Madam, my mother, I do cry you mercy, I did not see your grace:—Humbly on my knee I crave your blessing. Duchess. God bless thee; and put meekness in thy breast, Love, charity, obedience, and true duty! Gloster. Amen; and make me die a good old man!— That is the butt-end of a mother's blessing; [Aside. I marvel that her grace did leave it out, Buckingham. You cloudy princes, and heart-sorrowing peers, That bear this mutual heavy load of moan, Now cheer each other in each other's love:

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Though we have spent our harvest of this king, We are to reap the harvest of his son. The broken rancour of your high-swoln hearts, But lately splinted, knit, and join'd together, Must gently be preserv'd, cherish'd, and kept: Me seemeth good, that, with some little train, Forthwith from Ludlow the young prince be fetch'd Hither to London, to be crown'd our king. Rivers. Why with some little train, my lord of Buckingham? Buckingham. Marry, my lord, lest by a multitude, The new-heal'd wound of malice should break out; Which would be so much the more dangerous, By how much the estate is green, and yet ungovern'd: Where every horse bears his commanding rein, And may direct his course as please himself, As well the fear of harm, as harm apparent, In my opinion, ought to be prevented. Gloster. I hope, the king made peace with all of us; And the compact is firm; and true, in me. Rivers. And so in me; and so I think, in all: Yet, since it is but green, it should be put To no apparent likelihood of breach, Which, haply, by much company might be urg'd: Therefore I say, with noble Buckingham, That it is meet so few should fetch the prince. Hastings. And so say I. Gloster. Then be it so; and go we to determine Who they shall be that straight shall post to Ludlow. Madam,—and you my mother,—will you go To give your censures8 in this weighty business? [Exeunt all but BUCKINGHAM and GLOSTER. Buckingham. My lord, whoever journeys to the prince, For heaven's sake, let not us two stay at home: For, by the way, I'll sort occasion, As index9 to the story we late talk'd of, To part the queen's proud kindred from the prince. Gloster. My other self, my counsel's consistory, 8

Opinions.

9

/. e. Preparatory.

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KING RICHARD III.

My oracle, my prophet!—My dear cousin, I, as a child, will go by thy direction. Towards Ludlow then, for we'll not stay behind. \Exewnt. SCENE III.—A Street. Enter two CITIZENS, meeting. 1 Citizen. Good morrow, neighbour: Whither away so fast? 2 Citizen. I promise you, I scarcely know myself: Hear you the news abroad? 1 Citizen. Yes; the king's dead. 2 Citizen. Ill news, by'r lady; seldom comes the better: I fear, I fear, 'twill prove a giddy world. Enter (mother CITIZEN. 1 Citizen. Give you good morrow, sir. 3 Citizen. Doth the news hold of good king Edward's death? 2 Citizen. Ay, sir, it is too true. 3 Citizen. Then, masters, look to see a troublous world. 1 Citizen. No, no; by God's good grace, his son shall reign. 3 Citizen. Woe to that land that's govern'd by a child S 2 Citizen. In him there is hope of government; That in this nonage,1 council under him, And, in his full and ripen'd years, himself, No doubt, shall then, and till then, govern well. 1 Citizen. So stood the state, when Henry the Sixth Was crown'd in Paris but at nine months old. 3 Citizen. Stood the state so? no, no, good friends, not so; For then this land was famously enrich'd With politick grave counsel: then the king Had virtuous uncles to protect his grace. 1 Citizen. Why, so hath this, both by his father acd mother. Minority.

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3 Citizen. Better it were they all came by his father; Or, by his father, there were none at all: For emulation now, who shall be nearest, Will touch us all too near, if heaven prevent not. O, full of danger is the duke of Gloster; And the queen's sons, and brothers, haught and proud: And were they to be rul'd, and not to rule, This sickly land might solace as before. 1 Citizen. Come, come, we fear the worst; all will be well. 3 Citizen. When clouds are seen, wise men put on their cloaks; When great leaves fall, then winter is at hand; When the sun sets, who doth not look for night? Untimely storms make men expect a dearth: All may be well; but, if heaven sort it so, 'Tis more than we deserve, or I expect. 2 Citizen. Truly, the hearts of men are full of fear: You cannot reason2 almost with a man That looks not heavily, and full of dread. 3 Citizen. Before the days of change, still is it so: By a divine instinct, men's minds mistrust Ensuing danger; as, by proof, we see The water swell before a boist'rous storm. But leave it all to heaven. Whither away? 2 Citizen. Marry, we were sent for to,the justices. 3 Citizen. And so was I ; I'll bear yoxx company. [Exeunt. IV.—A Room in tlie Palace. Enter the ARCHBISHOP OF YORK, the young DUKE OF SCENE

YORK, QUEEN ELIZABETH, and YORK.

the DUCHESS OF

Archbishop. Last night, I heard, they lay at StonyStratford ; And at Northampton they do rest to-night: To-morrow, or next day, they will be here. 2

Converse.

32C

KING RICHARD III.

Duchess. I long with all my heart to see the prince; I hope, he is much grown since last I saw him. Queen Elizabeth. But I hear no; they say my son of York Hath almost overtaken him in his growth. York. Ay, mother, but I would not have it so. Duchess. Why, my young cousin? it is good to grow. York. Grandam, one night, as we did sit at supper, My uncle Rivers talk'd how I did grow More than my brother; Ay, quoth my uncle Gloster, Small herbs have grace, great weeds do grow apace:

And since, methinks, I would not grow so fast, Because sweet flowers are slow, and weeds make haste. Duchess. 'Good faith, 'good faith, the saying did not hold In him that did object the same to thee: He was the wretched'st thing, when he was young, So long a growing, and so leisurely, That, if his rule were true, he should be gracious. Archbishop. And so, no doubt, he is, my gracious madam. Duchess. I hope, he is; but yet let mothers doubt. York. Now, by my troth, if I had been remembered, I could have given my uncle's grace a flout, To touch his growth, nearer than he touch'd mine. Duchess. How, my young York ? I pr'ythee, let me hear it. York. Marry, they say my uncle grew so fast, That he could gnaw a crust at two hours old; 'Twas full two years ere I could get a tooth. Grandam, this would have been a biting jest. Duchess. I pr'ythee, pretty York, who told you this? York. Grandam, his nurse. Duchess. His nurse? why, she was dead ere thou wast born. York. If 'twere not she, I cannot tell who told me. Queen Elizabeth. A parlous boy: Go to, you are too shrewd.

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Archbishop. Good madam, be not angry with the child. Queen Elizabeth. Pitchers have ears. Enter a MESSENGER. Archbishop. Here comes a messenger: What news? Messenger. Such news, my lord, As grieves me to unfold. Queen Elizabeth. How doth the prince? Messenger. Well, madam, and in health. Duchess. What is thy news? Messenger. Lord Rivers, and lord Grey, are sent to Pomfret, With them sir Thomas Vaughan, prisoners. Duchess. Who hath committed them? Messenger. The mighty dukes, Gloster and Buckingham. Queen Elizabeth. For what offence? Messenger. The sum of all I can, I have disclos'd; Why, or for what, the nobles were committed, Is all unknown to me, my gracious lady. Queen Elizabeth. Ah me, I see the ruin of my house! The tiger now hath seized the gentle hind: Insulting tyranny begins to jut Upon the innocent and awless throne:— Welcome destruction, blood, and massacre! I see, as in a map, the end of all. Duchess. Accursed and unquiet wrangling days! How many of you have mine eyes beheld ? My husband lost his life to get the crown; And often up and down my sons were tost, For me to joy and weep, their gain and loss: And being seated, and domestic broils Clean over-blown, themselves, the conquerors, Make war upon themselves; brother to brother, Blood to blood, self 'gainst self:—O, preposterous And frantick courage, end thy wicked spleen! Or let me die, to look on death no more!

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Queen Elizabeth. Come, come, my boy, we will to sanctuary.— Madam, farewell. Duchess. Stay, I will go with you. Queen Elizabeth. You have no cause. Archbishop. My gracious lady, go, [To the QUEEN.

And thither bear your treasure and your goods. For my part, I'll resign unto your grace The seal I keep; And so betide me, As well I tender you, and all of yours! [Eocemt. Come, I'll conduct you to the sanctuary.

ACT I I I . I.—A Street. The Trumpets sound. Enter the PRINCE OF WALES, GLOSTER, BUCKINGHAM, Cardinal BOURCHIER, and Others. Buckingham. Welcome, sweet prince, to London, to your chamber. Glostwr. Welcome, dear cousin, my thoughts' sovereign : The weary way hath made you melancholy. Prince. No, uncle; but our crosses on the way Have made it tedious, wearisome, and heavy: I want more uncles here to welcome me. Gloster. Sweet prince, the untainted virtue of your years Hath not yet div'd into the world's deceit: No more can you distinguish of a man, Than of his outward show; which, heaven knows, Seldom, or never, jumpeth with the heart;. Those uncles, which you want, were dangerous; Your grace attended to their sugar'd words, But look'd not on the poison of their hearts: Heaven keep you from them, and from such false friends! SCENE

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Prince. Heaven keep me from false friends! but they were none. Gloster. My lord, the mayor of London comes to greet you. Enter the LORD

MAYOR,

and his Train.

Mayor. God bless your grace with health and happy days! Prince. I thank you, good my lord,—and thank you all.— \Exewit MAYOR,
HASTINGS.

Buckingham. And in good time, here comes the sweating lord. Prince. Welcome, my lord; What, will our mother come? Hastings. On what occasion, heaven knows, not I, The queen your mother, and your brother York, Have taken sanctuary: The tender prince Would fain have come with me to meet your grace, But by his mother was perforce withheld. Buckingham. Fye! what an indirect and peevish course Is this of hers?—Lord cardinal, will your grace Persuade the queen to send the duke of York, Unto his princely brother presently? If she deny,—lord Hastings, go with him, And from her jealous arms pluck him perforce. Cardinal. My lord of Buckingham, if my weak oratory Can from his mother win the duke of York, Anon expect him here; But if she be obdurate To mild entreaties, God in heaven forbid We should infringe the holy privilege

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Of blessed sanctuary! not for all this land, Would I be guilty of so deep a sin. Buckingham. You are too senseless-obstinate, my lord, Too ceremonious, and traditional: Weigh it but with the grossness of this age, You break not sanctuary in seizing him. The benefit thereof is always granted To those whose dealings have deserv'd the place, And those who have the wit to claim the place: This prince hath neither claim'd it, nor deserv'd it, And therefore, in mine opinion, cannot have it: Then, taking him from thence, that is not there, You break no privilege nor charter there. Oft have I heard of sanctuary men; But sanctuary children, ne'er till now. Cardinal. My lord, you shall o'er-rule my mind for once.— Come on, lord Hastings, will you go with me? Hastings. I go, my lord. Prince. Good lords, make all the speedy haste you may. [Exeunt CARDINAL and HASTINGS. Say, uncle Gloster, if our brother come, Where shall we sojourn till our coronation? Gloster. Where it seems best unto your royal self. If I may counsel you, some day or two, Your highness shall repose you at the Tower : Then where you please, and shall be thought most fit For your best health and recreation. Prince. I do not like the Tower, of any place:— Did Julius Caesar build that place, my lord? Gloster. He did, my gracious lord, begin that place: Which, since, succeeding ages have re-edified. Prince. Is it upon record? or else reported Successively from age to age he built it ? Buckingham. Upon record, my gracious lord. Prince. But say, my lord, it were not registered; Methinks, the truth should live from age to age, As 'twere retailed to all posterity, Even to the general all-ending day.

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Gloster. So wise so young, they say, do ne'er live long. [Aside. Prince. What say you, uncle? Gloster. I say, without characters, fame lives long. Thus like the formal4 vice, Iniquity, ) XA %1 I moralize two meanings in one word. J L Prince. That Julius Caesar was a famous man; With what his valour did enrich his wit, His wit set down to make his valour live: Death makes no conquest of this conqueror; For now he lives in fame, though not in life.—• I'll tell you what, my cousin Buckingham,— Buckinyham. What, my gracious lord? Prince. An if I live until I be a man, I'll win our ancient right in France again, Or die a soldier, as I liv'd a king. Gloster. Short summers lightly5 have a forward spring. [Aside. Enter YORK, HASTINGS, and the CARDINAL. Buckinyham. Now, in good time, here comes the duke of York. Prince. Richard of York! how fares our loving brother? York. Well, my dread lord; so must I call you now. Prince. Ay, brother; to our grief, as it is yours; Too late 6 he died, that might have kept that title, Which by his death hath lost much majesty. Gloster. How fares our cousin, noble lord of York? York. I thank you, gentle uncle. O, my lord, You said, that idle weeds are fast in growth: The prince, my brother, hath outgrown me far. Gloster. He hath, my lord. York. And therefore is he idle? Gloster. 0, my fair cousin, I must not say so, York. Then is he more beholden to you, than I? 4 6

Sensible Vice, the buffoon in the old plays. 6 Commonly. Lately.

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Gloster. He may command me, as my sovereign; But you have power in me as in a kinsman. York I pray you, uncle, then, give me this dagger. Gloster. My dagger, little cousin? with all my heart. Prince. A beggar, brother? York Of my kind uncle, that I know will give; And being but a toy, which is no grief to give. Gloster. A greater gift than that I'll give my cousin. York A greater gift! O, that's the sword to it? Gloster. Ay, gentle cousin, were it light enough. York O then, I see, you'll part but with light gifts; In weightier things you'll say a beggar nay. Gloster. It is too weighty for your grace to wear. York I weigh it lightly, were it heavier. Gloster. What would you have my weapon, little lord? York I would, that I might thank you as you call me. Gloster. How? York Little. Prince. My lord of York will still be cross in talk;— Uncle, your grace knows how to bear with him. York You mean, to bear me, not to bear with me:— Uncle, my brother mocks both you and me; Because that I am little, like an ape, He thinks that you should bear me on your shoulders. Buckingham. With what a sharp-provided wit he reasons! To mitigate the scorn he gives his uncle, He prettily and aptly taunts himself: So cunning, and so young, is wonderful. Gloster. My gracious lord, will't please you pass along? Myself, and my good cousin Buckingham, Will to your mother; to entreat of her, To meet you at the Tower, and welcome you. York What, will you go unto the Tower, my lord ? Prince. My lord protector needs will have it so. York. I shall not sleep in quiet at the Tower. Gloster. Why, sir, what should you fear? York. Marry, my uncle Clarence' angry ghost; My grandam told me, he was murder'd there.

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Prince. I fear no uncles dead. Gloster. Nor none that live, I hope. Prince. An if they live, I hope, 1 need not fear. But come, my lord, and, with a heavy heart, Thinking on them, go I unto the Tower, \Exeunt PRINCE, YORK, HASTINGS, CARDINAL, and ATTENDANTS.

Buckingham. Think you, my lord, this little prating York Was not incensed 7 by his subtle mother, To taunt and scorn you thus opprobriously % Gloster. No doubt, no doubt; O, 'tis a parlous bay, Bold, quick, ingenious, forward, capable;8 He's all the mother's, from the top to toe. Buckingham. Well, let them rest.— Come hither, gentle Catesby; thou art sworn As deeply to effect what we intend, As closely to conceal what we impart: Thou know'st our reasons urg'd upon the way;— What think'st thou, is it not an easy matter To make William lord Hastings of our mind, For the instalment of this noble duke In the seat royal of this famous isle ? Catesby. He for his father's sake so loves the prince, That he will not be won to aught against him. Buckinr/ham. What think'st thou then of Stanley? will not he I Catesby. He will do all in all as Hastings doth. Buckingham. Well then, no more but this: Go, gentle Catesby, And, as it were far off, sound thou lord Hastings, How he doth stand affected to our purpose; And summon him to-morrow to the Tower, To sit about the coronation. If thou dost find him tractable to us, Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons; If he be leaden, icy, cold, unwilling, Be thou so too; and so break off the talk, 7

Incited.

8

Intelligent.

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And give us notice of his inclination: For we to-morrow hold divided9 councils, Wherein thyself shalt highly be employ5d. Glcster. Commend me to lord William: tell him, Catesby, His ancient knot of dangerous adversaries To-morrow are let blood at Pomfret-castle; And bid my friend for joy of this good news, Give mistress Shore one gentle kiss the more. Buckingham. Good Catesby, go, effect this business soundly. Catesby. My good lords both, with all the heed I can. Gloster. Shall we hear from you, Catesby, ere we sleep? Catesby. You shall, my lord. Gloster. At Crosby-place, there shall you find us both. [Exit CATESBY. Buckingham. Now, my lord, what shall we do, if we perceive Lord Hastings will not yield to our complots? Gloster. Chop off his head, man:—somewhat we will do:— And, look, when I am king, claim thou of me The earldom of Hereford, and all the moveables Whereof the king my brother was possess'd. Buckingham. I'll claim that promise at your grace's hand. Gloster. And look to have it yielded with all kindness. Come, let us sup betimes; that afterwards We may digest our complots in some form. [Exeunt II.—Before LORD HASTINGS'S House. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. My lord, my lord,— [Knocking. Hastings. [Within^\ Who knocks? Messenger. One from lord Stanley. Hastings. [Within^] What is't o'clock? Messenger. Upon the stroke of four SCENE

9

Separate.

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Enter HASTINGS. Hastings. Cannot thy master sleep the tedious nights? Messenger. So it should seem by that I have to say. First he commends him to your noble lordship. Hastings. And then,— Messenger. And then he sends you word, he dreamt To-night the boar had rased off his helm: Besides, he says, there are two councils held; And that may be determin'd at the one, Which may make you and him to rue at the other. Therefore he sends to know your lordship's pleasure,— If presently, you will take horse with him, And with all speed post with him toward the north, To shun the danger that his soul divines. Hastings. Go, fellow, go, return unto thy lord; Bid him not fear the separated councils: His honour, and myself, are at the one; And, at the other, is my good friend Catesby; Where nothing can proceed, that toucheth us, Whereof I shall not have intelligence. Tell him, his fears are shallow, wanting instance: l And for his dreams—I wonder, he's so fond2 To trust the mockery of unquiet slumbers: To fly the boar, before the boar pursues, Were to incense the boar to follow us, And make pursuit, where he did mean no chase. Go, bid thy master rise and come to me; And we will both together to the Tower, Where, he shall see, the boar 3 will use us kindly. Messenger. I'll go, my lord, and tell him what you say. [Exit. Enter CATESBY. Catesby. Many good morrows to my noble lord! Hastings. Good morrow, Catesby; you are early stirring: What news, what news, in this our tottering state? 1 3

2 Example. Weak. /. e. Gloster, who had a boar for his arms.

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Calesby. It is a reeling world, indeed, my lord; And, I believe, will never stand upright, Till Richard wear the garland of the realm. Hastings. How! wear the garland? dost thou mean the crown? Catesby. Ay, my good lord. Hastings. I'll have this crown of mine cut from my shoulders, Before I'll see the crown so foul misplac'd. But canst thou guess that he doth aim at it? Catesby. Ay, on my life; and hopes to find you forward Upon his party, for the gain thereof; And, thereupon, he sends you this good news,— That, this same very day, your enemies, The kindred of the queen, must die at Pomfret. Hastings. Indeed, I am no mourner for that news, Because they have been still my adversaries: But, that I'll give my voice on Richard's side, To bar my master's heirs in true descent, God knows, I will not do it, to the death. Catesby. God keep your lordship in that gracious mind! Hastings. But I shall laugh at this a twelve-month hence, That they, who brought me in my master's hate, I live to look upon their tragedy. Well, Catesby, ere a fortnight make me older, I'll send some packing, that yet think not on't. Catesby. 'Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, When men are unprepar d, and look not for it. Hastings. O monstrous, monstrous! and so falls it out With Rivers, Vaughan, Grey: and so 'twill do With some men else, who think themselves as safe As thou, and I ; who, as thou know'st, are dear To princely Richard, and to Buckingham. Catesby. The princes both make high account of you,— For they account his head upon the bridge. [Aside. Hastings. I know, they do j and I have well deserv'd it!

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Enter STANLEY. Come on, come on, where is your boar-spear, man? Fear you the boar, and go so unprovided? Stanley. My lord, good morrow; and good morrow, Catesby:— You may jest on, but, by the holy rood,4 I do not like these several councils, I. Hastings. My lord, I hold my life as dear as yours; And never, in my life, I do protest, "Was it more precious to me than 'tis now: Think you, but that I know our state secure, I would be so triumphant as I am? Stanley. The lords at Pomfret, when they rode from London, Were jocund, and suppos'd their states were sure, And they, indeed, had no cause to mistrust; But yet, you see, how soon the day o'er-cast. This sudden stab of rancour I misdoubt; Pray Heaven, I say, I prove a needless coward! What, shall we toward the Tower? the day is spent. Hastings. Come, come, have with you.—Wot5 you what, my lord? To-day, the lords you talk of are beheaded. Stanley. They for their truth, might better wear their heads, Than some, that have accus'd them, wear their hats. But come, my lord, let's away. Enter a PURSUIVANT. Hastings. Go on before, I'll talk with this good fellow. [Exeunt STANLEY and CATESBY. How now, sirrah, how goes the world with thee? Pursuivant. The better that your lordship please to ask. Hastings. I tell thee, man, 'tis better with me now, Than when thou met'st me last where now we meet: Then was I going prisoner to the Tower, By the suggestion of the queen's allies; * Cross. VOL. IV.

5

Know. Z

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But now I tell thee, (keep it to thyself,) This day those enemies are put to death, And I in better state than e'er I was. Pursuivant. Heaven hold it, to your honour's good content! Hastings. Gramercy, fellow: There, drink that for me. [Throwing him his Purse. Pursuivant. I thank your honour. [Exit PURSUIVANT. Enter a PRIEST. Priest. Well met, my lord; I am glad to see your honour. Hastings. I thank thee, good sir John, with all my heart. I am in your debt for your last exercise; Come the next Sabbath, and I will content you. Enter BUCKINGHAM. Buckingham. What, talking with a priest, lord chamberlain ? Your friends at Pomfret, they do need the priest; Your honour hath no shriving0 work in hand. Hastings. 'Good faith, and when I met this holy man, The men you talk of came into my mind. What, go you toward the Tower? Buckingliam. I do, my lord; but long I cannot stay there: I shall return before your lordship thence. Hastings. Nay, like enough, for I stay dinner there. Bucldnghani. And supper too, although thou know'st it not. [Aside. Come, will you go? Hastings. I'll wait upon your lordship. [Exeunt. Before the Castle. Enter RATCLIFF, with a GUARD, conducting RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN, to Execution. Batcliff. Come, bring forth the prisoners. SCENE III.—POMFRET.

6

Confession.

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Rivers. Sir Richard Ratcliff let me tell thee this,— To-day, shalt thou behold a subject die, For truth, for duty, and for loyalty. Grey. God keep the prince from all the pack of you! Vaughan. You live, that shall cry woe for this hereafter liatcliff. Despatch; the limit of your lives is out. Elvers. 0 Pomfret, Pomfret! O thou bloody prison, Fatal and ominous to noble peers! Within the guilty closure of thy walls, Richard the Second here was hack'd to death: And, for more slander to thy dismal seat, "We give thee up our guiltless blood to drink. Grey. Now Margaret's curse is fall'n upon our heads. When she exclaim'd on Hastings, you, and I, For standing by when Richard stabb'd her son. Elvers. Then curs'd ^he Hastings, curs'd she Buckingham, Then curs'd she Richard:—0, remember, God, To hear her prayers for them, as now for us! And for my sister, and her princely sons,— Be satisfied, great God, with our true bloods, Which, as thou know'st, unjustly must be spilt! Eatcliff. Make haste, the hour of death is expiate.7 Elvers. Come, Grey,—come, Vaughan,—let us here embrace: Farewell, until we meet again in heaven. [Exeunt. SCENE I.—LONDON.

A Eoom In the TOWER.

BUCKINGHAM, STANLEY, HASTINGS, the BISHOP OF ELY, CATESBY, LOVEL, and Others, sitting at a Table: O F F I CERS of the Council attending.

Hastings. Now, noble peers, the cause why we are liKt Is—to determine of the coronation: In God's name speak, when is the royal day? Buckingham. Are all things ready for that royal time? Stanley. They are; and wants but nomination. 7

Expiated, completed.

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Ely. To-morrow, then, I judge a happy day. Buckingham. Who knows the lord protector's mind herein ? Who is most inward 8 with the noble duke? Ely. Your grace, we think, should soonest know his mind. Buckingham. We know each other's faces; for our hearts,— He knows no more of mine, than I of yours; Nor I, of his, my lord, than you of mine:— Lord Hastings, you and he are near in love. Hastings. I thank his grace, I know he loves me well: But, for his purpose in the coronation, I have not sounded him, nor he deliver'd His gracious pleasure any way therein: But you, my noble lord, may name the time; And in the duke's behalf I'll give my voice, Which, I presume, he'll take in gentle part. Enter

GLOSTER.

Ely. In happy time, here comes the duke himself. Gloster. My noble lords and cousins, all, good morrow: I have been long a sleeper; but, I trust, My absence doth neglect no great design, Which by my presence might have been concluded. Buckingham. Had you not come upon your cue, my lord, William lord Hastings had pronounc'd your part,— I mean, your voice,—for crowning of the king. Gloster. Than my lord Hastings, no man might be bolder; His lordship knows me well, and loves me well.— My lord of Ely, when I was last in Holborn, I saw good strawberries in your garden there; I do beseech you, send for some of them. Ely. Marry, and will, my lord, with all my heart. [Exit ELY. 8

Intimate.

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Gloster. Cousin of Buckingham, a word with you. [Takes him aside. Catesby hath sounded Hastings in our business; And finds the testy gentleman so hot, That he will lose his head, ere give consent, His master's child, as worshipfully he terms it, Shall lose the royalty of England's throne. Buckingham. Withdraw yourself awhile, I'll go with you. [Exeunt GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM. Stanley. We have not yet set down this day oftriumph. To-morrow, in my judgment, is too sudden; For 1 myself am not so well provided, As else I would be were the day prolonged. Re-enter BISHOP OF ELY. Ely. Where is my lord protector? I have sent For these strawberries. Hastings. His grace looks cheerfully and smooth this morning; There's some conceit9 or other likes him well, When he doth bid good morrow with such spirit. I think, there's ne'er a man in Christendom, Can lesser hide his love, or hate, than he; For by his face straight shall ye know his heart. Stanley. What of his heart perceive you in his face, By any likelihood he show'd to-day? Hastings. Marry, that with no man here he is offended; For, were he, he had shown it in his looks. Re-enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM. Gloster. I pray you all, tell me what they deserve, That do conspire my death with devilish plots Of damned witchcraft; and that have prevailed Upon my body with their hellish charms? Hastings. The tender love I bear your grace, my lord, Makes me most forward in this noble presence To doom the offenders: Whosoe'er they be, I say, my lord, they have deserv'd death. 9

Thought.

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Gloster. Then be your eyes the witness of their evil. Look how I am bewitch'd; behold mine arm Is, like a blasted sapling, wither d up: And this is Edward's wife, that monstrous witch, Consorted with that harlot, strumpet Shore, That by their witchcraft thus have marked me. Hastings. If they have done this deed, my noble lord,— Gloster. If! thou protector of this wanton strumpet, Talk'st thou to me of ifs?—Thou art a traitor:— Off with his head:—now, by saint Paul I swear, T will not dine until I see the same.— Lovel, and Catesby, look that it be done; The rest that love me, rise, and follow me. [Exeunt COUNCIL, with GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM. Hastings. Woe, woe, for England! not a whit for me; For I, too fond, might have prevented this: Stanley did dream, the boar did rase his helm; But I disdain'd it, and did scorn to fly, Three times to-day my foot-cloth horse did stumble, And startled, when he look'd upon the Tower, As loath to bear me to the slaughter-house. O, now I want the priest that spake to me: I now repent I told the pursuivant, As too triumphing, how mine enemies To-day at Pomfret bloodily were butcher'd, And I myself secure in grace and favour. O, Margaret, Margaret, now thy heavy curse Is lighted on poor Hastings' wretched head. Catesby. Despatch, my lord, the duke would be at dinner; Make a short shrift, he longs to see your head. Hastings. O momentary grace of mortal men, Which we more hunt for than the grace of Heaven, Who builds his hope in air of your fair looks, Lives like a drunken sailor on a mast; Eeady, with every nod, to tumble down Into the fatal bowels of the deep. Lovel. Come, come, despatch; 'tis bootless to exclaim. Hastings. O, bloody Richard!—miserable England 1

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I prophesy the fearful'st time to thee, That ever wretched age hath look'd upon.— Come, lead me to the block, bear him my head; They smile at me, who shortly shall be dead. [Exeunt. Y.—The TOWER Walls. Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, in rusty Armour, marvellous ill-favour'd. Gloster. Come, cousin, canst thou quake, and change thy colour? Murder thy breath in middle of a word,— And then again begin, and stop again, As if thou wert distraught, and mad with terror? Buckingham. Tut, I can counterfeit the deep tragedian; Speak, and look back, and pry on every side, Tremble and start at wagging of a straw, Intending 1 deep suspicion: ghastly looks Are at my service, like enforced smiles And both are ready in their offices, At any time, to grace my stratagems. But what, is Catesby gone? Gloster. He is; and, see, he brings the mayor along. SCENE

Enter the LORD MAYOR and CATESBY. Buckingham. Let me alone to entertain him.—Lord mayor, Gloster. Look to the draw-bridge there. Buckingham. Hark, hark! a drum. Gloster. Catesby, o'erlook the walls. Buckingham. Lord mayor, the reason we have sent for you, Gloster. Look back, defend thee, here are enemies. Buckingham. Heaven and our innocence defend and guard us! 1

Pretending.

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Enter LOVEL and BATCLIFF, with HASTINGS'S Head. Gloster. Be patient, they are friends; Ratcliff, and Lovel. Lovel. Here is the head of that ignoble traitor, The dangerous and unsuspected Hastings. Gloster. So dear I lov'd the man, that I must weep. I took him for the plainest harmless't creature, That breath'd upon the earth a Christian; Made him my book, wherein my soul recorded The history of all her secret thoughts: So smooth he daub'd his vice with show of virtue, That, his apparent open guilt omitted,— I mean, his conversation with Shore's wife,— He liv'd from all attainder of suspect. Buckingham. Well, well, he was the covert'st shelter'd traitor That ever liv'd.—Look you, my lord mayor, Would you imagine, or almost believe, (Wer't not, that by great preservation We live to tell it you,) the subtle traitor This day had plotted in the council-house To murder me, and my good lord of Gloster? Mayor. What! had he so? Gloster. What! think you we are Turks, or infidels? Or that we would, against the form of law, Proceed thus rashly in the villain's death; But that the extreme peril of the case, The peace of England, and our persons' safety Enforc'd us to this execution? Mayor. Now, fair befall you! he deserv'd his death; And your good graces both have well proceeded, To warn false traitors from the like attempts. I never look'd for better at his hands, After he once fell in with mistress Shore. Buckingham. Yet had we not determin'd he should die, Until your lordship came to see his end; Which now the loving haste of these our friends,

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34$

Somewhat against our meaning, hath prevented: Because, my lord, we would have had you heard The traitor speak, and timorously confess The manner and the purpose of his treasons; That you might well have signified the same Unto the citizens, who, haply, may Misconstrue us in him, and wail his death. Mayor. But, my good lord, your grace's word shall serve, As well as I had seen, and heard him speak: And do not doubt, right noble princes both, But I'll acquaint our duteous citizens With all your just proceedings in this case. Gloster. And to that end we wish'd your lordship here, To avoid the censures of the carping world. Buckiaghcwi. But since you came too late of our intent, Yet witness what you hear we did intend; And so, my good lord mayor, we bid farewell. [Exit LORD MAYOR. Gloster. Go after, after, cousin Buckingham. The mayor towards Guildhall hies him in all post:— There, at your meetest vantage of the time, Infer the bastardy of Edward's children: Tell them, how Edward put to death a citizen, Only for saying—he would make his son Heir to the crown; meaning, indeed, his house, "Which, by the sign thereof, was termed so. Moreover, urge his hateful luxury, And restless appetite in change of lust; Which stretch'd unto their servants, daughters, wives, Even where his raging eye, or savage heart, Without controul, listed to make his prey. Nay, for a need, thus far come near my person:— Tell them, when that my mother went with child Of that insatiate Edward, noble York, My princely father, then had wars in France; And, by just computation of the time, Found, that the issue was not his begot; Which well appeared in his lineaments. Being nothing like the noble duke my father:

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Yet touch this sparingly, as 'twere far off; Because, my lord, you know, my mother lives. Buckingham. Doubt not, my lord; I'll play the orator, As if the golden fee, for which I plead, Were for myself: and so, my lord, adieu. Gloster. If you thrive well, bring them to Baynard's castle; Where you shall find me well accompanied, With reverend fathers, and well-learned bishops. Buckingham. I go; and, towards three or four o'clock, Look for the news that the Guildhall affords. [Exit BUCKINGHAM. Gloster. Go, Lovel, with all speed to doctor Shaw,— Go thou [To CATESBY.] to friar Penker;—bid them both Meet me, within this hour, at Baynard's castle. [Exeunt LOVEL and CATESBY. Now will I in, to take some privy order To draw the brats of Clarence out of sight; And to give notice, that no manner of person [Exit Have, any time, recourse unto the princes. VI.—A Street. Enter a Scrivener. Scrivener. Here is the indictment of the good lord Hastings; Which in a set hand fairly is engross'd, That it may be to-day read o'er in Paul's. And mark how well the sequel hangs together:— Eleven hours I have spent to write it over, For yesternight by Catesby was it sent me; The precedent2 was full as long a doing: And yet within these five hours Hastings liv'd, Here's a good world the while!—Who is so gross, Untainted, unexamined, free, at liberty. That cannot see this palpable device? Yet who so bold, but says—he sees it not? Bad is the world; and all will come to nought, When such bad dealing must be seen in thought. [Exit. SCENE

2

Original draft.

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VII.—Court O/BAYNARD'S Castle. Enter GLOSTER and BUCKINGHAM, meeting. Gloster. How now, how now? what say the citizens? Buckingham. The citizens are mum, say not a word. Gloster. Touched you the bastardy of Edward's children ? Buckingham. I did; with his contract with Lady Lucy, And his contract by deputy in France: The insatiate greediness of his desires, And his enforcement of the city wives; His tyranny for trifles; his own bastardy,—• As being got, your father then in France; And his resemblance, being not like the duke. Withal, I did infer your lineaments,— Being the right idea of your father. Both in your form and nobleness of mind: Laid oj">en all your victories in Scotland, Your discipline in war, wisdom in peace, Your bounty, virtue, fair humility; Indeed, left nothing, fitting for your purpose, Untouch'd, or slightly handled, in discourse. And, when my oratory grew to an end, I bade them, that did love their country's good, Cry—God save Richard, England's royal king ! Gloster. And did they so ? Buckingham. No, so Heaven help me, they spake not a word; But like dumb statues, or breathless stones, Star'd on each other, and look'd deadly pale. Which when I saw I reprehended them; And ask'd the mayor, what meant this wilful silence: His answer was,—the people were not us'd To be spoke to, but by the recorder. Then he was urg'd to tell my tale again: Thus saith the duke, thus hath the duke inferrd; But nothing spoke in warrant from himself. When he had done, some followers of mine own, SCENE

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At lower end o' the hall, huiTd up their caps, And some ten voices cried, God save king Richard! And thus I took the vantage of those few,— Thanks, gentle citizens, and friends, quoth I ; This general applause, and clieerful shout, Argues your wisdom, and your love to Richard: And even here brake off and came away. Gloster. What tongueless blocks were they; Would they not speak? Will not the mayor then, and his brethren, come? Buckingham. The mayor is here at hand: intend 3 some fear; Be not you spoke with, but by mighty suit: And look you, get a prayer-book in your hand, And stand between two churchmen, good my lord; For on that ground I'll make a holy descant : And be not easily won to our requests. Gloster. I go; and if you plead as well for them, As I can say nay to thee for myself, No doubt we'll bring it to a happy issue. Buckingham. Go, go, up to the leads; the lord mayor knocks. [Exit GLOSTER. Enter the LORD MAYOR, ALDERMEN, and CITIZENS. Welcome, my lord; I dance attendance here; I think the duke will not be spoke withal.— Enter, from the Castle, CATESBY.

Now, Catesby! what says your lord to my request ? Catesby. He doth entreat your grace, my noble lord, To visit him to-morrow, or next day: He is within, with two right reverend fathers, Divinely bent to meditation ; And in no worldly suit would he be mov'd, To draw him from his holy exercise. Buckingham. Return, good Catesby, to the gracious duke: Tell him, myself, the mayor and aldermen, 3

Pretend.

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In deep designs, in matter of great moment, No less importing than our general good, Are come to have some conference with his grace. Catesby. I'll signify so much unto him straight. \Eodt. Buckingham. Ah, ha, my lord, this prince is not an Edward! He is not lolling on a wanton bed, But on his knees at meditation; Not dallying with a brace of courtezans, But meditating with two deep divines; Not sleeping, to engross4 his idle body, But praying, to enrich his watchful soul: Happy were England, would this virtuous prince Take on himself the sovereignty thereof: But, sure, I fear, we shall ne'er win him to it. Mayor. Marry, Heaven forbid, his grace should say us nay! Buckingham. I fear, he will; Here Catesby comes again;— Re-enter CATESBY. Now, Catesby, what says his grace? Catesby. He wonders to what end you have assembled Such troops of citizens to come to him; His grace not being warn'd thereof before, He fears, my lord, you mean no good to him. Buckingham. Sorry I am, my noble cousin should Suspect me, that I mean no good to him: By heaven, we come to him in perfect love; And so once more return and tell his grace. [Exit CATESBY. "When holy and devout religious men Are at their beads, 'tis hard to draw them thence; So sweet is zealous contemplation. Enter GLOSTER, in a Gallery above, between two Bisho]?s. CATESBY returns.

Mayor. See, where his grace stands 'tween two clergymen! 4

Fatten.

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Buckingham. Two props of virtue for a Christian prince, To stay him from the fall of vanity: And, see, a book of prayer in his hand; True ornaments to know a holy man.— Famous Plantagenet, most gracious prince, Lend favourable ear to our requests; And pardon us the interruption Of thy devotion, and right-christian zeal. Gloster. My lord, there needs no such apology; I rather do beseech you pardon me, Who, earnest in the service of my God, Neglect the visitation of my friends. But, leaving this, what is your grace's pleasure? Buckingham. Even that, I hope, which pleaseth Heaven above, And all good men of this ungovern'd isle. Gloster. I do suspect, I have done some offence, That seems disgracious in the city's eye; And that you come to reprehend my ignorance. Buckingham. You have, my lord; "Would it might please your grace, On our entreaties to amend your fault! Gloster. Else wherefore breathe I in a Christian land? Buckingham. Know, then, it is your fault, that you resign The supreme seat, the throne majestical, The scepter'd office of your ancestors, Your state of fortune, and your due of birth, The lineal glory of your royal house, To the corruption of a blemish'd stock: Whilst, in the mildness of your sleepy thoughts, (Which here we waken to our country's good,) The noble isle doth want her proper limbs; Her face defac'd with scars of infamy, Her royal stock graft with ignoble plants, And almost shouldered5 in the swallowing gulf Of dark forgetfulness and deep oblivion. Which to recure,6 we heartily solicit 6

Thrust into.

6

Recover,

KING RICHARD III.

Your gracious self to take on you the charge And kingly government of this your land: Not as protector, steward, substitute, Or lowly factor for another's gain: But as successively, from blood to blood, Your right of birth, your empery,7 your own. For this, consorted with the citizens, Your very worshipful and loving friends, And by their vehement instigation, In this just suit come I to move your grace. Gloster. I cannot tell, if to depart in silence, Or bitterly to speak in your reproof, Best fitteth my degree, or your condition: If, not to answer,—you might haply think, Tongue-tied ambition, not replying, yielded To bear the golden yoke of sovereignty, Which fondly you would here impose on me ; If to reprove you for this suit of yours, So season'd with your faithful love to me, Then, on the other side, I check'd my friends. Therefore—to speak, and to avoid the first; And, then in speaking, not to incur the last,— Definitively thus I answer you. Your love deserves my thanks; but my desert, Unmeritable, shuns your high request. First, if all obstacles were cut away, And that my path were even to the crown, As the ripe revenue and due of birth; Yet so much is my poverty of spirit, So mighty, and so many my defects, That 1 would rather hide me from my greatness,— Being a bark to brook no mighty sea, Than in my greatness covet to be hid, And in the vapour of my glory smother'd. But, Heaven be thank'd, there is no need of me; (And much I need 8 to help you, if need were;) The royal tree hath left iis royal fruit, Which mellow'd by the stealing hours of time, 7

Empire.

8

Want ability.

351

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Will well become the seat of majesty, And make, no doubt, us happy by his reign. On him I lay what you would lay on me, The right and fortune of his happy stars,— Which, God defend, that I should wring from him! Buckingham. My lord, this argues conscience in your grace; But the respects thereof are nice9 and trivial, All circumstances well considered. You say, that Edward is your brother's son; So say we too, but not by Edward's wife: For first he was contract to lady Lucy, Your mother lives a witness to his vow ; And afterwards by substitute betrothed To Bona, sister to the king of France. These both put by, a poor petitioner, A care-craz'd mother to a many sons, A beauty-waning and distressed widow, Even in the afternoon of her best days, Made prize and purchase of his wanton eye, Seduc'd the pitch and height of all his thoughts To base declension and loath'd bigamy: By her, in his unlawful bed, he got This Edward, whom our manners call—the prince. More bitterly could I expostulate, Save that, for reverence to some alive, I give a sparing limit to my tongue; Then, good my lord, take to your royal self This proffer'd benefit of dignity: If not to bless us and the land withal, Yet to draw forth your noble ancestry From the corruption of abusing time, Unto a lineal true-derived course. Mayor. Do, good my lord; your citizens entreat you. Buckingham. Refuse not, mighty lord, this proffer'd love. Catesby. O make them joyful, grant their lawful suit. Gloster. Alas, why would you heap those cares on me? 9

Minute.

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I am unfit for state and majesty:— 1 do beseech you, take it not amiss; I cannot, nor 1 will not, yield to you. Buckingham. If you refuse it,—as in love and zeal, Loath to depose the child, your brother's son; As well we know your tenderness of heart, And gentle, kind, effeminate remorse,1 Which we have noted in you to your kindred, And equally, indeed, to all estates,— Yet know, whe'r you accept our suit or no, Your brother's son shall never reign our king; But we will plant some other in your throne, To the disgrace and downfall of your house. And, in this resolution, here we leave you; Come, citizens, we will entreat no more. [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and CITIZENS. Catesby. Call them again, sweet prince, accept their suit; If you deny them, all the land will rue it. Gloster. Will you enforce me to a world of cares? Well, call them again; I am not made of stone, But penetrable to your kind entreaties, [Exit CATESBY. Albeit against my conscience and my soul.— Re-enter BUCKINGHAM and the rest.

Cousin of Buckingham,— and sage, grave men,— Since you will buckle fortune on my back, To bear her burden, whe'r I will, or no, I must have patience to endure the load: But if black scandal, or foul-fac'd reproach, Attend the sequel of your imposition, Your mere enforcement shall acquittance me From all the impure blots and stains thereof; For Heaven best knows, and you may partly see, How far I am from the desire of this. Mayor. God bless your grace! we see it, and will say it. Gloster. In saying so, you shall but say the truth. 1

VOL. IV.

Pity. 2 A

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Buckingham. Then I salute you with this royal title,-— Long live king Richard, England's worthy king! AM. Amen. Buckingham. To-morrow may it please you to be crown'd? Gloster. Even when you please, since you will have it so. Buckingham. To-morrow then we will attend your grace; And so, most joyfully, we take our leave. Gloster. Come, let us to our holy work again:— [To the BISHOPS.

Farewell, good cousin;—farewell, gentle friends. [Exeimt.

ACT IV. SCENE

I.—Before the TOWER.

Enter, on one side, QUEEN ELIZABETH, DUCHESS OF YORK, and MARQUIS OF DORSET; on the other, ANNE, DUCHESS of GLOSTER, leading LADY MARGARET PLANTAGENET, CLARENCE'S young DAUGHTER. Duchess. "Who meets us here—my niece Plantagenet Led in the hand of her kind aunt of Gloster? Now, for my life, she's wandering to the Tower, On pure heart's love, to greet the tender prince.— Daughter, well met. •^w& Heaven give your graces both A happy and a joyful time of day! Queen Elizabeth. As much to you, good sister! Whither away? Anne. No further than the Tower; and, as I guess, Upon the like devotion as yourselves, To gratulate the gentle princes there. Queen Elizabeth. Kind sister, thanks; we'll enter all together:

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Enter BRAKENBURY. And, in good time, here the lieutenant comes.— Master lieutenant, pray you, by your leave, How doth the prince, and my young son of York? Brakenbury. Right well, dear madam: By your patience, I may not suffer you to visit them; The king hath strictly charg'd the contrary. Queen Elizabeth. The king! who's that ? Brakenbury. I mean the lord protector. Queen Elizabeth. The Lord protect him from that kingly title! Hath he set bounds between their love, and me? I am their mother, who shall bar me from them? Duchess. I am their father's mother, I will see them. Anne. Their aunt I am in law, in love their mother; Then bring me to their sights; I'll bear thy blame, And take thy office from thee, on thy peril. Brakenbury. No, madam, no, I may not leave it so; I am bound by oath, and therefore pardon me. [Exit BRAKENBURY. Enter STANLEY. Stanley. Let me but meet you, ladies, one hour hence, And I'll salute your grace of York as mother, And reverend looker-on of two fair queens. Come, madam, you must straight to Westminster. [To the DUCHESS OF GLOSTER.

There to be crowned Richard's royal queen. Queen Elizabeth. Ah, cut my lace asunder! That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news. Anne. Despiteful tidings! 0 unpleasing news! Dorset. Be of good cheer: Mother, how fares your grace? Queen Elizabeth. 0 Dorset, speak not to me, get thee gone, Death and destruction dog thee at the heels;

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Thy mother's name is ominous to children: If thou wilt outstrip death, go cross the seas, And live with Richmond, from the reach of hell. Go, hie thee, hie thee, from this slaughter-house, Lest thou increase the number of the dead; And make me die the thrall of Margaret's curse,— Nor mother, wife, nor England's counted queen. Stanley. Full of wise care is this your counsel, madam:— Take all the swift advantage of the hours; You shall have letters from me to my son In your behalf, to meet you on the way: Be not ta'en tardy by unwise delay. Duchess. O ill-dispersing wind of misery!— O my accursed womb, the bed of death; A cockatrice hast thou hatch'd to the world, Whose unavoided eye is murderous! Stanley. Come, madam, come; I in all haste was sent. Anne. And I with all unwillingness will go.— O, would to heaven that the inclusive verge Of golden metal, that must round my brow, Were red hot steel, to sear me to the brain! Anointed let me be with deadly venom; And die, ere men can say—God save the queen! Queen Elizabeth. Go, go, poor soul, I envy not thy glory; To feed my humour, wish thyself no harm. Anne. No! why?—When he that is my husband now, Came to me, as I followed Henry's corse; When scarce the blood was well wash'd from his hands, Which issu'd from my other angel husband, And that dead saint which then I weeping follow'd; O when, I say, I look'd on Richard's face, This was my wish,—Be thon, quoth I, accursd, For waling me so young, so old a widow! And, trlien tlwu wecTst, let sorroio haunt thy bed; And be thy wife (if any be so mtd) More miserable by the life of thee, Than thou hast made me by my dear lords death!

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Lo, ere I can repeat this curse again, Even in so short a space, my woman's heart Grossly grew captive to his honey words, And proved the subject of mine own soul's curse: Which ever since hath held mine eyes from rest; For never yet one hour in his bed Did I enjoy the golden dew of sleep, But with his timorous dreams was still awak'd. Besides, he hates me for my father Warwick; And will, no doubt, shortly be rid of me. Queen Elizabeth. Poor heart, adieu; I pity thy complaining. Anne. No more than with my soul I mourn for yours. Dorset. Farewell, thou woful welcomer of glory! Anne. Adieu, poor soul, that tak'st thy leave of it! Duchess. Go thou to Richmond, and good fortune guide thee!— [To DORSET. Go thou to Richard, and good angels tend thee!— [To ANNE.

Go thou to sanctuary, and good thoughts possess thee!— [To QUEEN ELIZABETH.

I to my grave, where peace and rest lie with me! Eighty odd years of sorrow have I seen, And each hour's joy wreck'd with a week of teen.2 Queen Elizabeth. Stay yet: look back, with me, unto the Tower.— Pity, you ancient stones, those tender babes, Whom envy hath immur'd within your walls! Rough cradle for such little pretty ones! Rude ragged nurse! old sullen play-fellow For tender princes, use my babies well! So foolish sorrow bids your stones farewell. [Exeunt. II.—A Room of State in the Palace. Flourish of Trumpets. RICHARD, as KING, upon his SCENE

Throne; BUCKINGHAM, CATESBY, a PAGE, and Others. King Richard. Stand all apart.—Cousin of Buckingham, 2 Sorrow.

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Buckingham. My gracious sovereign. King Richard. Give me thy hand. Thus high, by thy advice, And thy assistance, is king Richard seated:— But shall we wear these glories for a day? Or shall they last, and we rejoice in them? Buckingham. Still live they, and for ever let them last! King Richard. Ah, Buckingham, now do I play the touch,3 To try if thou be current gold, indeed:— Young Edward lives;—Think now what I would speak. Buckingham. Say on, my loving lord. King Richard. Why, Buckingham, I say, I would be king. Buckingham. Why, so you are, my thrice-renowned liege. King Richard. Ha ! am I king? 'Tis so: but Edward lives. Buckingham. True, noble prince. King Richard. O bitter consequence, That Edward still should live,—true, noble prince!— Cousin, thou wast not wont to be so dull: Shall I be plain? I wish the bastards dead; And I would have it suddenly performed. What say'st thou now ? speak suddenly, be brief. Buckingham. Your grace may do your pleasure. King Richard. Tut, tut, thou art all ice, thy kindness freezes: Say, have I thy consent, that they shall die? Buckingham. Give me some breath, some little pause, dear lord, Before I positively speak in this: I will resolve your grace immediately. [Eodt BUCKINGHAM. Catesby. The king is angry; see, he gnaws his lip. [Aside. King Richard. I will converse with iron-witted fools, [Descends from his Throne. 3

Touchstone.

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And unrespective4 boys: none are for me, That look into me with considerate eyes; High-reaching Buckingham grows circumspect. Boy, Page. My lord. King Richard. Know'st thou not any, whom corrupting gold Would tempt unto a close exploit5 of death? Page. I know a discontented gentleman, Whose humble means match not his haughty mind: Gold were as good as twenty orators, And will, no doubt, tempt him to any thing. King Richard. What is his name? Page. His name, my lord, is—Tyrrel. King Richard. I partly know the man; Go, call him hither, boy. [Exit PAGE. 0 The deep-revolving witty Buckingham No more shall be the neighbour to my counsels: Hath he so long held out with me untir'd, And stops he now for breath?—well, be it so.— Enter STANLEY How now, lord Stanley? what's the news? Stanley. Know, my loving lord, The marquis Dorset, as I hear, is fled To Richmond, in the parts where lie abides. King Richard. Come hither, Catesby: rumour it abroad, That Anne, my wife, is very grievous sick; I will take order for her keeping close. Inquire me out some mean-bom gentleman, Whom I will marry straight to Clarence's daughter: The boy is foolish, and I fear not him.— Look, how thou dream'st!—I say again, give out, That Anne my queen is sick, and like to die: About it; for it stands me much upon,7 To stop all hopes, whose growth may damage me.— [Exit CATESBY. 4 6

Inconsiderate. Cunning.

5 7

Secret act. It is of great consequence to my designs.

360

KING RICHARD III.

I must be married to my brother's daughter, Or else my kingdom stands on brittle glass: Murder her brothers, and then marry her! Uncertain way of gain! But I am in So far in blood, that sin will pluck on sin. Tear-falling pity dwells not in this eye Re-enter PAGE, with TYRREL. Is thy name Tyrrel? Tyrrel. James Tyrrel, and your most obedient subject. King Richard. Art thou, indeed? Tyrrel. Prove me, my gracious lord. King Richard. Dar'st thou resolve to kill a friend of mine? Tyrrel. Please you; but I had rather kill two enemies. King Richard. Why, then thou hast i t ; two deep enemies! Foes to my rest, and my sweet sleep's disturbers, Are they that I would have thee deal8 upon; Tyrrel, I mean those bastards in the Tower. Tyrrel. Let me have open means to come to them, And soon I'll rid you from the fear of them. King Richard. Thou sing'st sweet music. Hark, come hither, Tyrrel; Go, by this token:—Rise and lend thine ear : [ Whispers. There is no more but so:—Say, it is done, And I will love thee, and prefer thee for it. Tyrrel. I will despatch it straight. [Eocit. Re-enter BUCKINGHAM. Buckingham. My lord, I have considered in my mind The late demand that you did sound me in. King Richard. Well, let that rest. Dorset is fled to Richmond. Buckingham. I hear the news, my lord. King Richard. Stanley, he is your wife's son:—Well, look to it. 8

Act.

KING RICHAKD III.

361

Buckingham. My lord, I claim the gift, my due by promise, For which your honour and your faith is pawn'd; The earldom of Hereford, and the movables, Which you have promised I shall possess. King Richard. Stanley, look to your wife; if she convey Letters to Richmond, you shall answer it. Buckingham. "What says your highness to my just request ? King Richard.—I do remember me,—Henry the sixth Did prophesy, that Richmond should be king, When Richmond was a little peevish9 boy. A king!—perhaps Buckingham. My lord, King Richard. How chance, the prophet could not at that time, Have told me, I being by, that I should kill him? Buckingham. My lord, your promise for the earldom,— King Richard. Richmond!—When last I was at Exeter, The mayor in courtesy show'd me the castle, And call'd it—Rouge-mont: at which name, I started; Because a bard of Ireland told me once, I should not live long after I saw Richmond. Buckingham. My lord, King Richard, Ay, what's o'clock % Buckingham. I am thus bold To put your grace in mind of what you promis'd me. King Richard. Well, but what is't o'clock? Buckingham. Upon the stroke Of ten. King Richard. Well, let it strike. Buckingham. Why, let it strike? King Richard. Because that, like a Jack,1 thou keep'st the stroke 9 1

Foolish. A Jack of the clock-iiouse is an image like those at St. Dunstan's church in Fleet-street, and was then a common appendage to clocks.

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Betwixt thy begging and my meditation. I am not in the giving vein to-day. Buckingham. Why, then resolve me whe'r you will, or no. King Richard. Thoutroublest me; I am not in the vein. [Exeunt KING RICHARD and Train. Buckingham. And is it thus ? repays he my deep service With such contempt? made I him king for this? 0, let me think on Hastings; and begone To Brecknock,2 while my fearful head is on. [Exit. III.—The same. Enter TYRREL. Tyrrel. The tyrannous and bloody act is done; The most arch deed of piteous massacre, That ever yet this land was guilty of, Dighton and Forrest, whom I did suborn To do this piece of ruthless butchery, Albeit they were flesh'd villains, bloody dogs, Melting with tenderness and mild compassion, Wept like two children, in their death's sad story. 0 thus, quoth Dighton, lay tlie gentle babes, Thus, thus, quoth Forrest, girdling one another, Within their alabaster innocent arms: Their lips were four red roses on a stalk, Which in their summer beauty kissed each oilier, A book of prayers on their pillow lay, Which once, quoth Forrest, almost changed my mind, But, 0, the devil—there the villain stopp'd; When Dighton thus told on,—we smothered The most replenished sweet work of nature, That, from the prime creation, eer shefrairid.— Hence both are gone with conscience and remorse, They could not speak; and so I left them both, To bear these tidings to the bloody king. SCENE

2

His castle in Wales.

KING RICHARD III.

363

Enter KING RICHARD. And here he conies:—all health, my sovereign lord! King Richard. Kind Tyrrel! am I happy in thy news ? Tyrrel. If to have done the thing you gave in charge Beget your happiness, be happy then, For it is done. King Richard. But didst thou see them dead? Tyrrel. I did, my lord. King Richard. And buried, gentle Tyrrel? Tyrrel. The chaplain of the tower hath buried them; But where, to say the truth, I do not know. King Richard. Come to ine, Tyrrel, soon, at after supper, When thou shalt tell the process of their death. Mean time, but think how I may do thee good, And be inheritor of thy desire. Farewell, till then. Tyrrel. I humbly take my leave. \Exit. King Richard. The son of Clarence have I penn'd up close; His daughter meanly have I match'd in marriage; The sons of Edward sleep in Abraham's bosom, And Anne my wife hath bid the world good night. Now, for I know the Bretagne3 Richmond aims At young Elizabeth, my brother's daughter, And, by that knot, looks proudly on the crown, To her go I, a jolly thriving woo'r. Enter CATESBY. Catesby. My lord,— King Richard. Good news, or bad, that thou com'st in so bluntly? Catesby. Bad news, my lord : Morton4 is fled to Richmond; And Buckingham, back'd with the hardy Welshmen, Is in the field, and still his power increaseth. 3 4

The country in which Kichmond had taken refuge. Bishop of Ely.

364

KING RICHARD III.

King Richard. Ely with Richmond troubles me more near, Than Buckingham and his rash-levied strength. Come,—I have learn'd, that fearful commenting Is leaden servitor to dull delay; Delay leads impotent and snail-pac'd beggary: Then fiery expedition be my wing, Jove's Mercury, and herald for a king! Go, muster men: My counsel is my shield; We must be brief, when traitors brave the field. [Eaceunt. SCENE IV.—Before the Palace. Enter QUEEN MARGARET. Queen Margaret. So now prosperity begins to mellow, And drop into the rotten mouth of death. Here in these confines slily have I lurk'd, To watch the waning of mine enemies. A dire induction am I witness to, And will to France; hoping the consequence Will prove as bitter, black, and tragical. Withdraw thee, wretched Margaret! who comes here? Enter QUEEN ELIZABETH and the DUCHESS OF YORK. Queen Elizabeth. Ah, my poor princes! ah, my tender babes! My unblown flowers, new-appearing sweets! If yet your gentle souls fly in the air, And be not fix'd in doom perpetual, Hover about me with your airy wings, And hear your mother's lamentation! Queen Margaret. Hover about her; say, that right for right Hath dimm'd your infant morn to aged night. DucJiess. So many miseries have craz'd my voice, That my woe-wearied tongue is still and mute, Edward Plantagenet, why art thou dead?

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Queen Margaret Plantagenet doth quit Plantagenet. Edward for Edward pays a dying debt. Duchess. Dead life, blind sight, poor mortal-living ghost, Woe's scene, world's shame, grave's due, by life usurp'd, Brief abstract and record of tedious days, Rest thy unrest on England's lawful earth, [Sitting down. Unlawfully made drunk with innocent blood! Queen Elizabeth. Ah, that thou wouldst as soon afford a grave, As thou canst yield a melancholy seat; Then would I hide my bones, not rest them here! Ah, who hath any cause to mourn, but we? [Sitting down by lvert

Queen Margaret. If ancient sorrow be most reverent, Give mine the benefit of seniory,5 And let my griefs frown on the upper hand. If sorrow can admit society, [Sitting down with tliem. Tell o'er your woes again by viewing mine:— I had an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; I had a husband, till a Richard kill'd him: Thou hadst an Edward, till a Richard kill'd him; Thou hadst a Richard, till a Richard kill'd him. Duchess. I had a Richard too, and thou didst kill him; I had a Rutland too, thou holp'st to kill him. Queen Margaret Thou hadst a Clarence too, and Richard kill'd him. From forth the kennel of thy womb hath crept A hell-hound, that doth hunt us all to death: That dog, that had his teeth before his eyes, To worry lambs, and lap their gentle blood; That excellent grand tyrant of the earth, That reigns in galled eyes of weeping souls, Thy womb let loose, to chase us to our graves.— O upright, just, and true-disposing God, How do I thank thee, that this carnal cur 5

Seniority.

366

KING RICHARD III.

Preys on the issue of his mother's body, And makes her pew-fellow6 with others' moan! Duchess. O, Harry's wife, triumph not in my woes; Heaven witness with me, I have wept for thine. Queen Margcvret. Bear with me, I am hungry for revenge, And now I cloy me with beholding it. Thy Edward he is dead, that kill'd my Edward; Thy other Edward dead to quit my Edward; Young York he is but boot,7 because both they Match not the high perfection of my loss. Thy Clarence he is dead, that stabb'd my Edward; And the beholders of this tragick play, The adulterate Hastings, Rivers, Yaughan, Grey, Untimely smother'd in their dusky graves. Richard yet lives, hell's black intelligencer; Only reserv'd their factor to buy souls, And send them thither: But at hand, at hand, Ensues his piteous and unpitied end: Earth gapes, hell burns, fiends roar, saints pray, To have him suddenly convey'd from hence:— Cancel his bond of life, great God, I pray, That I may live to say, The dog is dead! Queen Elizabeth O, thou didst prophesy the time would come, That I should wish for thee to help me curse That bottled spider, that foul bunch-back'd toad. Queen Margaret. I call'd thee then, vain flourish of my fortune; I call'd thee then, poor shadow, painted queen; The presentation of but what I was, The flattering index of a direful pageant, One heav'd a high, to be hurl'd down below: A mother only mock'd with two fair babes; A dream of what thou wast; a garish 8 flag, To be the aim of every dangerous shot; A sign of dignity, a breath, a bubble; A queen in jest, only to fill the scene. 6

Companion.

7

Thrown into the bargain.

8

Flaring.

KING RICHARD III.

3G7

Where is thy husband now? where be thy brothers? Where be thy two sons? wherein dost thou joy? Who sues, and kneels, and says—God save the queen ? Where be the bending peers that flatter'd thee? Where be the thronging troops that foliow'd thee ? Decline all this, and see what now thou art. For happy wife, a most distressed widow; For joyful mother, one that wails the name; For one being sued to, one that humbly sues; For queen, a very caitiff crown'd with care; For one that scorn'd at me, now scorn'd of me; For one being fear'd of all, now fearing one; For one commanding all, obey'd of none. Thus hath the course of justice wheelVl about, And left thee but a very prey to time; Having no more but thought of what thou wert, To torture thee the more, being what thou art. Thou didst usurp my place; and dost thou not Usurp the just proportion of my sorrow? Now thy proud neck bears half my burden'd yoke; From which even here I slip my wearied head, And leave the burden of it all on thee. Farewell, York's wife,—and queen of sad mischance,— These English woes shall make me smile in France. Queen Elizabeth. O thou well skill'd in curses, stay a while, And teach me how to curse mine enemies! Queen Mcvrgaret. Forbear to sleep the night, and fast the day; Compare dead happiness with living woe; Think that thy babes were fairer than they were, And he that slew them, fouler than he is: Bettering thy loss makes the bad-causer worse; Revolving this will teach thee how to curse. Queen Elizabeth. My words are dull, O, quicken them with thine! Queen Margaret. Thy woes will make them sharp, and pierce like mine. [Exit QUEEN MARGARET. Ducliess. Why should calamity be full of words?

308

KING RICHARD III.

Queen Elizabeth. Windy attomies to their client woes, Airy succeeders of intestate joys, Poor breathing orators of miseries! Let them have scope: though what they do impart Help nothing else, yet do they ease the heart. DucJiess. If so, then be not tongue-ty'd: go with me, And in the breath of bitter words let's smother My cruel son, that thy two sweet sons smother'd. [Drum within. I hear his drum,—be copious in exclaims. Enter

KING RICHARD,

and his Train, marching.

King Richard. Who intercepts me in my expedition? Duchess. O, she, that might have intercepted thee, By strangling thee in her unhappy womb, From all the slaughters, wretch, that thou hast done. Queen Elizabeth. Hid'st thou that forehead with a golden crown, Where should be branded, if that right were right, The slaughter of the prince that ow'd1 that crown, And the dire death of my poor sons and brothers? Tell me, thou villain-slave, where are my children? Duchess. Thou toad, thou toad, where is thy brother Clarence? And little Ned Plantagenet, his son? Queen Elizabeth. Where is the gentle Rivers, Vaughan, Grey? Duchess. Where is kind Hastings? King Richcvrd. A flourish, trumpets!—strike alarum, drums! Let not the heavens hear these tell-tale women Rail on the Lord's anointed: Strike, I say.— [Flourish Alarums. Either be patient, and entreat me fair, Or with the clamorous report of war Thus will I drown your exclamations. Duchess. Art thou my son? 1

Owned*

KING RICHARD III.

369

King Eichard. Ay; I thank heaven, my father, and yourself. Duchess. Then patiently hear my impatience. King Richard. Madam, I have a touch of your condition,2 That cannot brook the accent of reproof. Duchess. 0, let me speak. King Richcurd. Do, then; but I'll not hear. Duchess. I will be mild and gentle in my words. King Richard. And brief, good mother; for I am in haste. Ducltess. Art thou so hasty ? I have staid for thee, Heaven knows, in torment and in agony. King Richard. And came I not at last to comfort you ? Duchess. No, by the holy rood,3 thou know'st it well, Thou cam'st on earth to make the earth my hell. A grievous burden was thy birth to me; Tetchy4 and wayward was thy infancy; Thy school-days, frightful, desperate, wild, and furious; Thy prime of manhood, daring, bold, and venturous; Thy age confirm'd, proud, subtle, sly, and bloody, More mild, but yet more harmful, kind in hatred. What comfortable hour canst thou name, That ever grac'd me in thy company? King Richard. 'Faith none, but Humphrey Hour, that call'd your grace To breakfast once, forth of my company. If I be so disgracious in your sight, Let me march on, and not offend you, madam. Strike up the dram. Duchess. I pr'ythee, hear me speak. King Richard. You speak too bitterly. Duchess. Hear me a word; For I shall never speak to thee again. King Richard. So. Duchess. Either thou wilt die, by God's just ordinance, Ere from this war thou turn a conqueror; Or I with grief and extreme age shall perish, 2

Disposition. VOlt. IV.

8

Cross.

4

Touchy, fretful. 2 B

370

KING EICHARD III.

And never look upon thy face again. Therefore, take with thee my most heavy curse; Which, in the day of battle, tire thee more, Than all the complete armour that thou wear st! My prayers on the adverse party fight; And there the little souls of Edward's children Whisper the spirits of thine enemies, And promise them success and victory, Bloody thou art, bloody will be thy end; Shame serves thy life, and doth thy death attend. [Exit Queen Elizabeth. Though far more cause, yet much less spirit to curse Abides in me; I say amen to her. \Going. King Richard. Stay, madam, I must speak a word with you. Queen Elizabeth. I have no more sons ofthe royal blood, For thee to murder: for my daughters, Richard,— They shall be praying nuns, not weeping queens; And therefore level not to hit their lives. King Richard. You have a daughter called—Elizabeth Virtuous and fair, royal and gracious. Queen Elizabeth. And must she die for this? 0, let her live, And I'll corrupt her manners, stain her beauty; Slander myself, as false to Edward's bed; Throw over her the veil of infamy: So she may live unscarr'd of bleeding slaughter I will confess she was not Edward's daughter. King Richard. Wrong not her birth, she is of royal blood. Queen Elizabeth. To save her life, I'll say—she is not so. King Richard. Her life is safest only in her birth. Queen Elizabeth. And only in that safety died her brothers. King Richard. Lo, at their births, good stars were opposite. Queen Elizabeth. No, to their lives bad friends were contrary.

KING RICHARD III.

371

King Richard. All unavoidecl5 is the doom of destiny. Queen Elizabeth. True when avoided grace makes destiny: My babes were destin'd to a fairer death, If grace had bless'd thee with a fairer life. King Richard. You speak, as if that I had slain my cousins. Queen Elizabeth. Cousins, indeed; and by their uncle cozen'd Of comfort, kingdom, kindred, freedom, life. Whose hands soever lanc'd their tender hearts, Thy head, all indirectly, gave direction: No doubt the murderous knife was dull and blunt, Till it was whetted on thy stone-hard heart, To revel in the entrails of my lambs. But that still6 use of grief makes wild grief tame, My tongue should to thy ears not name my boys, Till that #my nails were anchor'd in thine eyes; And I, in such a desperate bay of death, Like a poor bark, of sails and tackling reft, Rush all to pieces on thy rocky bosom. King Richard. Madam, so thrive I in my enterprize, And dangerous success of bloody wars, As I intend more good to you and yours, Than ever you or yours by me were harm'd! Queen Elizabeth. What good is covered with the face of heaven, To be discover'd, that can do me good? King Richard. The advancement of your children, gentle lady. Queen Elizabeth. Up to some scaffold, there to lose their heads? King Richard. No, to the dignity and height of fortune, The high imperial type of this earth's glory. Queen Elizabeth. Flatter my sorrows with report of i t ; Tell me, what state, what dignity, what honour, Canst thou demise7 to any child of mine? King Richard. Even all I have; ay, and myself and all. 5

Unavoidable.

6

Constant.

7

Bequeath.

372

KING RICHARD III.

Will I withal endow a child of thine; So in the Lethe of thy angry soul Thou drown the sad remembrance of those wrongs, Which thou supposest I have done to thee. Queen Elizabeth. Be brief, lest that the process of thy kindness Last longer telling than thy kindness' date. King Richard. Then know, that from my soul I love thy daughter. Queen Elizabeth. My daughter's mother thinks it with her soul. King Richard. What do you think? Queen Elizabeth. That thou dost love my daughter from thy soul. So, from thy soul's love, didst thou love her brothers, And, from my heart's love, I do thank thee for it. King Richard. Be not so hasty to confound my meaning: I mean that with my soul I love thy daughter, And do intend to make her queen of England. Queen Elizabeth. Well then, who dost thou mean shall be her king? King Richard. Even he, that makes her queen: Who else should be? Queen Elizabeth. What, thou? King Richard. Even so: What think you of it, madam? Queen Elizabeth. How canst thou woo her? King Richard. That I would learn of you, As one being best acquainted with her humour. Queen Elizabeth. And wilt thou learn of me? King Richard. Madam, with all my heart. Queen Elizabeth. Send to her, by the man that slew her brothers, A pair of bleeding hearts; thereon engrave, Edward, and York; then, haply,8 will she weep: Therefore present to her,—as sometime Margaret Did to thy father, steep'd in Rutland's blood,— A handkerchief; which, say to her, did drain 8

Perhaps.

KING RICHARD III.

373

The purple sap from her sweet brother's body, And bid her wipe her weeping eyes withal. If this inducement move her not to love, Send her a letter of thy noble deeds; Tell her thou mad'st away her uncle Clarence, Her uncle Rivers; ay, and for her sake, Mad'st quick conveyance with her good aunt Anne. King Richard, You mock me, madam; this is not the way To win your daughter. Queen Elizabeth. There is no other way; Unless thou couldst put on some other shape, And not be Richard that hath done all this. King Richard. Say that I did all this for love of her? Queen Elizabeth. Nay, then indeed, she cannot choose but have thee, Having bought love with such a bloody spoil. King Richard. Look, what is done cannot be now amended; Men shall deal unadvisedly sometimes, Which after-hours give leisure to repent. If I did take the kingdom from your sons, To make amends, I'll give it to your daughter. A grandam's name is little less in love, Than is the doting title of a mother! They are as children, but one step below. Your children were vexation to your youth, But mine shall be a comfort to your age. The loss you have, is but—a son being king, And, by that loss, your daughter is made queen. I cannot make you what amends I would, Therefore accept such kindness as I can. Dorset, your son, that, with a fearful soul, Leads discontented steps in foreign soil, This fair alliance quickly shall call home To high promotions and great dignity: The lang that calls your beauteous daughter—wife, Familiarly shall call thy Dorset—brother j Again shall you be mother to a king,

374

KING KICHARD III.

And all the ruins of distressful times Repaired with double riches of content. What! we have many goodly days to see: The liquid drops of tears that you have shed, Shall come again, transform'd to orient pearl; Advantaging their loan, with interest Of ten-times double gain of happiness. Go then, my mother, to thy daughter go; Make bold her bashful years with your experience: Prepare her ears to hear a wooer's tale: Put in her tender heart the aspiring flame Of golden sovereignty; acquaint the princess That, when this arm of mine hath chastised The petty rebel, dull-brain'd Buckingham, Bound with triumphant garlands will I come, And lead thy daughter to a conqueror's bed! To whom I will retail my conquest won, And she shall be sole vict'ress, Caesar's Caesar. Queen Elizabeth What were I best to say ? her father's brother Would be her lord? Or shall I say, her uncle? Or, he that slew her brothers and her uncles? Under what title shall I woo for thee, That God, the law, my honour, and her love, Can make seem pleasing to her tender years? King Richard. Infer fair England's peace by this alliance. Queen Elizabeth. Which she shall purchase with still lasting war. King Richard. Tell her, the king, that may command, entreats. Queen Elizabeth. That at her hands, which the king's King forbids.9 King Richard. Say, she shall be a high and mighty queen. Queen Elizabeth. To wail the title, as her mother doth. King Richard. Say, I will love her everlastingly. 9

In the Levitical Law, chap, xviii. 14,

KING RICHARD III.

375

Queen Elizabeth. But how long shall that title, ever, last? King Richard. Sweetly in force unto her fair life's end. Queen Elizabeth. But how long fairly shall her sweet life last? King Richard. As long as heaven, and nature, lengthens it. Queen Elizabeth. As long as hell, and Richard, likes of it. King Richard. Say, I, her sovereign, am her subject low. Queen Elizabeth. But she, your subject, loathes such sovereignty. King Richard. Be eloquent, in my behalf, to her. Queen Elizabeth. An honest tale speeds best, being plainly told. King Richard. Then, in plain terms tell her my loving tale. Queen Elizabeth. Plain, and not honest, is too harsh a style. King Richard. Your reasons are too shallow, and too quick. Queen Elizabeth. O, no, my reasons are too deep and dead;— Too deep and dead, poor infants, in their graves. King Richard. Harp not on that string, madam, that is past. Queen Elizabeth. Harp on it still shall I, till heartstrings break. King Richard. Now, by my George, my garter,1 and my crown,— Queen Elizabeth. Profan'd, dishonour'd, and the third usurp'd. King Richa/rd. I swear. Queen Elizabeth. By nothing; for this is no oath. Thy George, profan'd, hath lost his holy honour; Thy garter, blemish'd, pawn'd his knightly virtue; Thy crown, usurp'd, disgraced his kingly glory: 1

The ensigns of the Order of the Garter.

376

KING RICHARD III.

If something thou wouldst swear to be believ'd, Swear then by something that thou hast not wrong'd. King Richard. Now, by the world, Queen Elizabeth. 'Tis full of thy foul wrongs. King Richard. My father's death,— Queen Elizabeth. Thy life hath that dishonoured. King Richard. Then, by myself,— Queen Elizabeth. Thyself is self-raisus'd, King Richard. Why then, by God,— Queen Elizabeth. God's wrong is most of alL If thou hadst fear d to break an oath by him, The unity the king thy brother made, Had not been broken, nor my brother slain; If thou hadst fear'd to break an oath by him, The imperial metal, circling now thy head, Had grac'd the tender temples of my child; And both the princes had been breathing here, Which now, two tender bed-fellows for dust, Thy broken faith hath made a prey for worms. What canst thou swear by now? King Richard. By the time to come. Queen Elizabeth. That thou hast wrong'd in the time o'erpast; For I myself have many tears to wash Hereafter time, for time past, wrong'd by thee. The children live, whose parents thou hast slaughtered, Ungovern'd youth, to wail it in their age: The parents live, whose children thou hast butcher'd, Old barren plants, to wail it in their age: Swear not by time to come; for that thou hast Misus'd, ere us'd, by times ill-us'd o'er-past. King Richard. As I intend to prosper, and repent. So thrive I in my dangerous attempt Of hostile arms! myself myself confound! Heaven, and fortune, bar me happy hours! Day yield me not thy light; nor, night, thy rest! Be opposite all planets of good luck To my proceeding, if, with pure heart's love, Immaculate devotion, holy thoughts,

KING RICHARD III.

377

I tender not thy beauteous princely daughter! In her consists my happiness, and thine; Without her, follows to myself, and thee, Herself, the land, and many a Christian soul, Death, desolation, ruin, and decay: It cannot be avoided, but by this; It will not be avoided, but by this. Therefore, dear mother, (I must call you so;) Be the attorney of my love to her. Plead what I will be, not what I have been; Not my deserts, but what I will deserve; Urge the necessity and state of times, And be not peevish2 found in great designs. Queen Elizabeth. Shall I be tempted of the devil thus? King Richard. Ay, if the devil tempt thee to do good. Queen Elizabeth. Shall I forget myself to be myself? King Richard. Ay, if yourself's remembrance wrong yourself. Queen Elizabeth. Shall I go win my daughter to thy wiU? King Richard. And be a happy mother by the deed. Queen Elizabeth. I go.—Write to me very shortly, Ajid you shall understand from me her mind. King Richard. Bear her my true love's kiss, and so farewell. [Kissing her. [Exit QUEEN ELIZABETH. Relenting fool, and shallow, changing—woman! How now ? what news ? Enter

RATCLIFF; CATESBY

following.

Raicliff. Most mighty sovereign, on the western coast Rideth a puissant navy; to the shore Throng many doubtful hollow-hearted friends, Unarm'd, and unresolv'd to beat them back: 'Tis thought that Richmond is their admiral; And there they hull, expecting but the aid Of Buckingham, to welcome them ashore. 2

Foolish.

378

KING RICHARD III.

King Richard. Some light-foot friend post to the duke of Norfolk:— Ratcliff, thyself,—or Catesby; where is he? Catesby. Here, my good lord. King Richard. Catesby, fly to the duka Catesby. I will, my lord, with all convenient haste. King Richard. Eatcliff, come hither: Post to Salisbury; When thou com'st thither,—Dull unmindful villain, [To CATESBY.

Why stay'sfc thou here, and go'st not to the duke? Catesby. First, mighty liege, tell me your highness' pleasure, What from your grace I shall deliver to him. King Rklwrd. O, true, good Catesby;—Bid him levy straight The greatest strength and power he can make, And meet me suddenly at Salisbury. Catesby. I go. [Exit. Ratcliff. What, may it please you, shall I do at Salisbury? King Richard. Why, what wouldst thou do there, before I go? RatcUff. Your highness told me, I should post before. Enter STANLEY. King Richcvrd. My mind is changed.—Stanley, what news with you? Stanley. None good, my liege, to please you with the hearing; Nor none so bad, but well may be reported. King Richard. Heyday, a riddle! neither good nor bad! What need'st thou run so many miles about, When thou mayst tell thy tale the nearest way? Once more, what news? Stanley. Richmond is on the seas. King Richcvrd. There let him sink, and be the seas on him! White-liver d runagate, what doth he there?

KING RICHARD III.

379

Stanley. I know not, mighty sovereign, but by guess. King Richard. Well, as you guess? Stanley. Stirr'd up by Dorset, Buckingham, and Morton, He makes for England, here to claim the crown. King Richard. Is the chair empty? is the sword unsway'd ? Is the king dead? the empire unpossess'd? What heir of York is there alive, but we ? And who is England's king, but great York's heir? Then, tell me, what makes he upon the seas? Stanley. Unless for that, my liege, I cannot guess. King Richard. Unless for that he comes to be your liege, You cannot guess wherefore the Welshman comes. Thou wilt revolt, and fly to him, I fear. Stanley. No, mighty liege; therefore mistrust me not King Richard. Where is thy power then, to beat him back? Where be thy tenants, and thy followers? Are they not now upon the western shore, Safe-conducting the rebels from their ships? Stanley. No, my good lord, my friends are in the north. King Richard. Cold friends to me: what do they in the north, When they should serve their sovereign in the west ? Stanley. They have not been commanded, mighty king: Pleaseth your majesty to give me leave, I'll muster up my friends; and meet your grace, Where, and what time, your majesty shall please. King Richard. Ay, ay, thou wouldst be one to join with Richmond: I will not trust you, sir. Stanley. Most mighty sovereign, You have no cause to hold my friendship doubtful; I never was, nor never will be false. King Richard. Well, go, muster men. But, hear you, leave behind

380

KING RICHARD III.

Your son, George Stanley; look your heart be firm, Or else his head's assurance is but frail. Stanley. So deal with him, as I prove true to you. [Exit STANLEY. Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. My gracious sovereign, now in Devonshire, As I by friends am well advertised, Sir Edward Courteney, and the haughty prelate, Bishop of Exeter, his elder brother, With many more confederates, are in arms. Enter another MESSENGER. 2 Messenger. In Kent, my liege, the Guildfords are m arms; And every hour more competitors3 Flock to the rebels, and their power grows strong. Enter another MESSENGER. 3 Messenger. My lord, the army of great Buckingham— King Richard. Out on ye, owls! notliing but songs of death? [He strikes him. There, take thou that, till thou bring better news. 3 Messenger. The news I have to tell your majesty, Is,—that, by sudden floods and fall of waters, Buckingham's army is dispers'd and scattered; And he himself wander'd away alone, No man knows whither. King Richard. O, I cry you mercy: There is my purse to cure that blow of thine. Hath any well-advised friend proclaim'd Reward to him that brings the traitor in? 3 Messenger. Such proclamation hath been made, my liege. Enter another MESSENGER. 4 Messenger. Sir Thomas Lovel, and lord marquis Dorset, 8

Associates.

KING RICHARD III.

381

'Tis said, my liege, in Yorkshire are in arms. But this good comfort bring I to your highness,— The Bretagne navy is dispersed by tempests: Richmond, in Dorsetshire, sent out a boat Unto the shore, to ask those on the banks, If they were his assistants, yea, or no; Who answer'd him, they came from Buckingham Upon his party; he, mistrusting them, Hois d sail, and made his course again for Bretagne, King Richard. March on, march on, since we are up in arms; If not to fight with foreign enemies, Yet to beat down these rebels here at home. Enter CATESBY, Catesby. My liege, the duke of Buckingham is taken. That is the best news; That the earl of Richmond Is with a mighty power landed at Milford, Is colder news, but yet they must be told. King Richard. Away towards Salisbury; while we reason here, A royal battle might be won and lost:— Some one take order, Buckingham be brought To Salisbury;—the rest march on with me. [Exeunt SCENE

V.—A Room in

LORD STANLEY'S

House.

Enter STANLEY, and SIR CHRISTOPHER URSWICK.4 Stanley. Sir Christopher, tell Richmond this from me;— That, in the sty of this most bloody boar, My son George Stanley is frank'd5 up in hold; If I revolt, off goes young George's head; The fear of that withholds my present aid. But, tell me, where is princely Richmond now? Christopher. At Pembroke, or at Ha'rford-west, in Wales. 4 5

Chaplain to the countess of Richmond. A frank is a sty in which hogs are fattened.

382

KING RICHARD III.

Stanley. What men of name resort to him? Christopher. Sir Walter Herbert, a renowned soldier; Sir Gilbert Talbot, sir William Stanley; Oxford, redoubted Pembroke, sir James Blunt, And Rice ap Thomas, with a valiant crew; And many other of great fame and worth: And towards London do they bend their course, If by the way they be not fought withal. Stanley. Well, hie thee to thy lord; commend me to him;

Tell him, the queen hath heartily consented He shall espouse Elizabeth her daughter. These letters will resolve him of my mincL [Gives Papers to SIR CHRISTOPHER. Farewell. [Eoceunt.

ACT V. An open Place. Enter tJie SHERIFF, and GUARD, with BUCKINGHAM, led to Execution. Buckingham. Will not king Richard let me speak with him? Sheriff. No, my good lord; therefore be patient. Buckingham. Hastings, and Edward's children, Rivers, Grey, Holy king Henry, and thy fair son Edward, Vaughan, and all that have miscarried By underhand corrupted foul injustice; If that your moody discontented souls Do through the clouds behold this present hour, Even for revenge mock my destruction! This is All-Souls' day, fellows, is it not? Sheriff. I t is, my lord. Buckingham. Why, then All-Souls' day is my body's doomsday. This is the day, which, in king Edward's time, 1 wish'd might fall on me, when I was found False to his children, or his wife's allies: SCENE I.—SALISBURY.

KING RICHARD III.

383

This is the day, wherein I wish'd to fall By the false faith of him whom most I trusted; This, this All-Souls' day to my fearful soul, Is the determined respite of my wrongs.6 That high All-seer which I dallied with, Hath turned my feigned prayer on my head, And given in earnest what I begg'd in jest. Thus doth he force the swords of wicked men To turn their own points on their masters' bosoms: Thus Margaret's curse falls heavy on my neck,— WJien Jie, quoth she, shall split thy lieart ivith sorrow, Remember Margaret was a proplietess.—

Come, sirs, convey me to the block of shame; Wrong hath but wrong, and blame the due of blame. [Exeunt BUCKINGHAM, &C. II.—A Plain near TAMWORTH, Enter, ivith Drum and Colours, RICHMOND, OXFORD, SIR JAMES BLUNT, SIR WALTER HERBERT, and Others, with FORCES, marching. Richmond. Fellows in arms, and my most loving friends, Bruis'd underneath the yoke of tyranny, Thus far into the bowels of the land Have we march'd on without impediment; And here receive we from our father Stanley Lines of fair comfort and encouragement. The wretched, bloody, and usurping boar, That spoiTci your summer fields, and fruitful vines, Lies now even in the centre of this isle, Near to the town of Leicester, as we learn: From Tamworth thither, is but one clay's march. In God's name, cheerly on, courageous friends, To reap the harvest of perpetual peace By this one bloody trial of sharp war. Oxford. Every man's conscience is a thousand swords, To fight against that bloody homicide. SCENE

6

Injurious practices.

384

KING RICHARD III.

Herbert I doubt not but his friends will turn to us. Blunt. He hath no friends, but who are friends for fear; Which, in his dearest need, will fly from him. Richmond. All for our vantage. Then, in God's name, march. [Exeimt. Field. Enter KING RICHARD, and FORCES; the DUKE OF NORFOLK, EARL OF SURREY, and Others. King Richard. Here pitch our tents even here in Bosworth field.— My lord of Surrey, why look you so sad ? Sv/rrey. My heart is ten times lighter than my looks. King Richard. My lord of Norfolk, Norfolk. Here, most gracious liege. King Richard. Norfolk, we must have knocks; Ha! must we not? Norfolk. We must both give and take, my loving lord. King Richard. Up with my tent: Here will I lie tonight. [Soldiers begin to set up tJie KING'S tent. But where, to-morrow?—Well, all's one for that.— Who hath described the number of the traitors? Norfolk. Six or seven thousand is their utmost power. King Richard. Why, our battalia trebles that account: Besides, the king's name is a tower of strength, Which they upon the adverse faction want. Up with the tent.—Come, noble gentlemen, Let us survey the vantage of the ground;— Call for some men of sound directions:— Let's want no discipline, make no delay; For, lords, to-inorrow is a busy day. [Exeunt. SCENE III.—BOSWORTH

Enter on the otlier Side of the Field, RICHMOND, SIR WILLIAM BRANDON, OXFORD, and other Lords, some of the Soldiers pitch RICHMOND'S Tent. Richmond. The weary sun hath made a golden set, And, by the bright track of his fiery car,

KING RICHARD III.

385

Gives token of a goodly day to-morrow.-*Sir William Brandon, you shall bear my standard.— Give me some ink and paper in my tent;— 111 draw the form and model of our battle, Limit each leader to his several charge, And part in just proportion our small power. My lord of Oxford,—you, sir William Brandon,— And you, sir Walter Herbert, stay with me: The earl of Pembroke keeps his regiment;— Good captain Blunt, bear my good night to him, And by the second hour in the morning Desire the earl to see me in my tent:— Yet one thing more, good captain, do for me; Where is lord Stanley quartered, do you know? Blunt Unless I have mistaken his colours much, (Which, well I am assur'd, I have not done,) His regiment lies half a mile at least South from the mighty power of the king. Richmond. If without peril it be possible, Sweet Blunt, make some good means to speak with him, And give him from me this most needful note. Blunt Upon my life, my lord, I'll undertake it: And so, heaven give you quiet rest to-night! Richmond. Good night, good captain Blunt. Come, gentlemen, Let us consult upon to-morrow's business; In to my tent, the air is raw and cold. [They withdraw into tJw Tent. Enter, to his Tent,

KING RICHARD, NORFOLK, RATCLIFF, and CATESBY.

King Richard. What is't o'clock? Catesby. It's supper time, my lord : It's nine o'clock. King Richard. I will not sup to-night.— Give me some ink and paper.— What, is my beaver easier than it was?— And all my armour laid into my tent? VOL. iv. 2 c

386

KING RICHARD III.

Catesby. It is, my liege; and all things are in readiness. King Richard. Good Norfolk, hie thee to thy charge; Use careful watch, choose trusty sentinels, Norfolk. I go, my lord. King Richard. Stir with the lark to-morrow, gentle Norfolk. Norfolk. I warrant you, my lord. [Exit. King Richard. Ratcliff, Ratcliff My lord? King Richard. Send out a pursuivant at arms To Stanley's regiment; bid him bring his power Before sun-rising, lest his son George fall Into the blind cave of eternal night.— Fill me a bowl of wine.—Give me a watch: 7 — [To CATESBY,

Saddle white Surrey for the field to-morrow.— Look that my staves8 be sound, and not too heavy. Ratcliff; Ratcliff. My lord? King Richard. Saw'st thou the melancholy lord Northumberland ? Ratcliff. Thomas the earl of Surrey, and himself, Much about cock-shut9 time, from troop to troop Went through the army, cheering up the soldiers. King Richard. I am satisfied. Give me a bowl of wine: I have not that alacrity of spirit, Nor cheer of mind, that I was wont to have.— So, set it down—Is ink and paper ready? Ratcliff. I t is, my lord. King Richard. Bid my guard watch; leave me. About the mid of night, come to my tent, And help to arm me.—Leave me, I say. [KING RICHARD retires into his Tent Exeunt RATCLIFF and 7

A watch-light.

8

CATESBY.

Wood of the lances.

9

Twilight.

KING RICHARD III. RICHMOND'S

387

Tent opens, and discovers him, and his

Officers, &c. Enter STANLEY. Stanley. Fortune and victory sit on thy helm! Richmond. All comfort that the dark night can afford, Be to thy person, noble father-in-law! Tell me, how fares our loving mother* Stanley. I, by attorney, bless thee from thy mother, "Who prays continually for Richmond's good: So much for that.—The silent hours steal on, And flaky darkness breaks within the east. In brief, for so the season bids us be, Prepare thy battle early in the morning; And put thy fortune to the arbitrement Of bloody strokes, and mortal-staring war. I, as I may, (that which I would, I cannot,) With best advantage will deceive the time, And aid thee in this doubtful shock of arms: But on thy side I may not be too forward, Lest, being seen, thy brother, tender George, Be executed in his father's sight. Farewell: The leisure and the fearful time Cuts off the ceremonious vows of love, And ample interchange of sweet discourse, Which so long-sunder'd friends should dwell upon; Heaven give us leisure for these friendly rites! Once more, adieu:—Be valiant, and speed well. Richmond. Good lords, conduct him to his regiment; Til strive, with troubled thoughts, to take a nap; Lest leaden slumber peisel me down to-morrow, When I should mount with wings of victory: Once more, good night, kind lords and gentlemen, \Exeunt Lords,
Weigh.

388

KING RICHARD III.

The usurping helmets of our adversaries! Make us thy ministers of chastisement, That we may praise thee in thy victory! To thee T do commend my watchful soul, Ere I let fall the windows of mine eyes; Sleeping, and waking, O, defend me still!

[Sleeps.

TJie

GHOST of PRINCE EDWARD, son to HENRY THE SIXTH, rises between the two Tents.

Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To KING RICHARD.

Think, how thou stab'dst me in my prime of youth At Tewksbury; Despair, therefore, and die!— Be cheerful, Richmond; for the wronged souls Of butcher'd princes fight in thy behalf: King Henry's issue, Richmond, comforts thee. Tlie GHOST of KING HENRY THE SIXTH rises. Ghost. When I was mortal, my anointed body [To KING RICHARD.

By thee was punched full of deadly holes: Think on the Tower, and me; Despair, and die! Harry the Sixth bids thee despair and die,— Virtuous and holy, be thou conqueror! [To RICHMOND*

Harry, that prophesied thou shouldst be king, Doth comfort thee in thy sleep; Live, and flourish! The GHOST of CLARENCE rises. Ghost. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow! [To KING RICHARD.

I, that was wash'd to death with fulsome wine, Poor Clarence, by thy guile betray'd to death! To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die!— Thou offspring of the house of Lancaster, [To RICHMOND.

The wronged heirs of York do pray for thee; Good angels guard thy battle! live, and flourish!

KING RICHARD III.

389

The GHOSTS of RIVERS, GREY, and VAUGHAN, rise. Rivers. Let me sit heavy on thy soul to-morrow, [To KING RICHARD.

Rivers, that died at Pomfret! Despair, and die! Grey. Think upon Grey, and let thy soul despair! [To KING RICHARD.

Vaughan. Think upon Vaughan; and, with guilty fear, Let fall thy lance! Despair, and die!— [To KING RICHARD.

All. Awake! and think, our wrongs in Richard's bosom [To RICHMOND. Will conquer him;—Awake, and win the day! The GHOST of HASTINGS rises. Ghost. Bloody and guilty, guiltily awake; [To KING RICHARD.

And in a bloody battle end thy days! Think on lord Hastings \ and despair, and die!— Quiet untroubled soul, awake, awake! [To RICHMOND.

Arm, fight, and conquer, for fair England's sake! The GHOSTS of the two young PRINCES rise. Ghosts. Dream on thy cousins smother'd in the Tower; Let us.be lead within thy bosom, Richard, And weigh thee down to ruin, shame, and death! Thy nephews' souls bid thee despair, and die.— Sleep, Richmond, sleep in peace, and wake in joy; Good angels guard thee from the boar's annoy! Live, and beget a happy race of kings! Edward's unhappy sons do bid thee flourish. The GHOST of QUEEN ANNE rises. Ghost. Richard, thy wife, that wretched Anne thy wife, That never slept a quiet hour with thee, Now fills thy sleep with perturbations:

390

KING KICHAKD III-

To-morrow in the battle think on me, And fall thy edgeless sword; Despair, and die!— Thou, quiet soul, sleep thou a quiet sleep; [To RICHMOND.

Dream of success and happy victory; Thy adversary's wife doth pray for thee. TJw GHOST of BUCKINGHAM rises. Ghost The first was I, that help'd thee to the crown; [To KING RICHARD.

The last was I, that felt thy tyranny: O, in the battle think on Buckingham, And die in terror of thy guiltiness! Dream on, dream on, of bloody deeds and death; Fainting, despair; despairing, yield thy breath!— I died for hope, ere I could lend thee aid: [To RICHMOND.

But cheer thy heart, and be thou not dismay'd: God, and good angels, fight on Richmond's side; And Richard falls in height of all his pride. [The GHOSTS vanish. KING RICHARD starts out of his dream. King Richcvrd. Give me another horse,—bind up my wounds,— Have mercy, Jesu!—Soft; I did but dream.— 0 coward conscience, how dost thou afflict me!— The lights burn blue,—It is now dead midnight. Cold fearful drops stand on my trembling flesh. What do I fear? myself? there's none else by: Richard loves Richard; that is, I am I. Is there a murderer here? No;—Yes; I am: Then fly,—What, from myself? Great reason: Why? Lest I revenge. What? Myself on myself? 1 love mysel£ Wherefore? for any good, That I myself have done unto myself? O, no: alas, I rather hate myself, For hateful deeds committed by myself. I am a villain: Yet I lie, I am not. Fool, of thyself speak well:—Fool, do not flatten

KING RICHARD III.

391

My conscience hath a thousand several tongues, And every tongue brings in a several tale, And every tale condemns me for a villain. Perjury, perjury, in the high'st degree, Murder, stern murder, in the dir'st degree; All several sins, all us'd in each degree, Throng to the bar, crying all,—Guilty! guilty! I shall despair.—There is no creature loves me; And, if I die, no soul will pity me:— Nay, wherefore should they? since that I myself Find in myself no pity to myself. Methought, the souls of all that I had murder'd Came to my tent: and every one did threat To-morrow's vengeance on the head of Richard. Enter RATCLIFF. Ratcliff. My lord, King Richard. Who's there? Ratcliff. Ratcliff, my lord; 'tis I, The early village cock Hath twice done salutation to the morn; Your friends are up, and buckle on their armour. King Richard. O, Ratcliff, I have dream'd a fearful dream! What thinkest thou! will our friends prove all true ? Ratcliff. No doubt, my lord. King Ricliard. Ratcliff, I fear, I fear,— Ratcliff. Nay, good my lord, be not afraid of shadows. King Ricliard. By the apostle Paul, shadows to-night Have struck more terror to the soul of Richard, Than can the substance of ten thousand soldiers, Armed in proof, and led by shallow Richmond. I t is not yet near day. Come, go with me; Under our tents I'll play the eaves-dropper, To hear, if any mean to shrink from me. [Exeunt KING RICHARD and RATCLIFF, wakes, Enter OXFORD and Others. Lords. Good morrow, Richmond. RICHMOND

392

KING RICHARD III.

Richmond, 'Cry mercy, lords, and watchful gentlemen, That you have ta'en a tardy sluggard here. Lords. How have you slept, my lord? Richmond. The sweetest sleep, and fairest-boding dreams, That ever enter'd in a drowsy head, Have I since your departure had, my lords. Methought, their souls, whose bodies Richard murder'd, Came to my tent, and cried—On ! victory! I promise you, my heart is very jocund In the remembrance of so fair a dream. How far into the morning is it, lords'? Lords. Upon the stroke of four. Richmond. Why, then 'tis time to arm, and give direction.— \He advances to the Troops. More than I have said, loving countrymen, The leisure and enforcement of the time Forbids to dwell on: Yet remember this,— God, and our good cause, fight upon our side; The prayers of holy saints, and wronged souls, Like high-rear'd bulwarks, stand before our faces; Richard except, those, whom we fight against, Had rather have us win, than him they follow. For what is he they follow? truly, gentlemen, A bloody tyrant, and a homicide; One rais'd in blood and one in blood establish'd; One that made means to come by what he hath, And slaughter'd those that were the means to help him; A base foul stone, made precious by the foil Of England's chair, where he is falsely set; One that hath ever been God's enemy: Then, if you fight against God's enemy, God will vouchsafe to ward2 you as his soldiers; If you do sweat to put a tyrant down, You sleep in peace, the tyrant being slain; If you do fight against your country's foes, Your country's fat shall pay your pains the hire; 2

Guard.

KING E1CHAED III.

393

If you do fight in safeguard of your wives, Your wives shall welcome home the conquerors; If you do free your children from the sword, Your children's children quit3 it in your age. Then, in the name of God, and all these rights, A dvance your standards, draw your willing swords: For me, the ransom of my bold attempt Shall be this cold corpse on the earth's cold face; But if I thrive, the gain of my attempt The least of you shall share his part thereof. Sound, drums and trumpets, boldly and cheerfully; God, and saint George! Richmond, and victory. [Exeunt. Re-enter KING RICHARD, RATCLIFF, Attendants, and Forces. King Richard. What said Northumberland, as touching Richmond? Ratdiff. That he was never trained up in arms. King Richard. He said the truth: And what said Surrey then? Ratdiff. He smil'd and said, the better for our purpose King Richard. He was i9 the right; and so, indeed, it is. [Clock strikes.

Tell the clock there.—Give me a calendar.— Who saw the sun to-day? Ratdiff. Not I, my lord. King Richard. Then he disdains to shine; for, by the book, He should have brav'd the east an hour ago : A black day will it be to somebody.— Ratcliff, Ratdiff. My lord? King Richard. The sun will not be seen to-day; The sky doth frown and lour upon our army. I would, these dewy tears were from the ground. Not shine to day! Why, what is that to me, More than to Richmond ? for the self-same heaven, That frowns on me, looks sadly upon him. 3

Requite.

394

KING RICHARD III.

Enter

NORFOLK.

Norfolk. Arm, arm, my lord; the foe vaunts in the field. King Ricliard. Come, bustle, bustle;—Caparison my horse; Call up lord Stanley, bid him bring his power:— I will lead forth my soldiers to the plain, And thus my battle shall be order'd. My foreward shall be drawn out all in length, Consisting equally of horse and foot; Our archers shall be placed in the midst: John duke of Norfolk, Thomas earl of Surrey, Shall have the leading of this foot and horse. They thus directed, we ourself will follow In the main battle; whose puissance on either side Shall be well winged; with our chiefest horse. This, and Saint George to boot!—What think'st thou, Norfolk? Norfolk. A good direction, warlike sovereign.— This, found I on my tent this morning. [Giving a Scroll King Richard. Jocky of Norfolk he not too hold, [Reads. For Dickon* thy master is bought cmd sold. A thing devised by the enemy.— Go, gentlemen, every man unto his charge: Let not our babbling dreams affright our souls: Conscience is but a word that cowards use, Devis'd at first to keep the strong in awe; Our strong arms be our conscience, swords our law. March on, join bravely, let us to't pell-mell; If not to heaven, then hand in hand to hell. What shall I say more than I have inferred ? Remember whom you are to cope withal; A sort5 of vagabonds, rascals, and run-aways, A scum of Bretagnes, and base lackey peasants, Whom their o'er-cloyed country vomits forth 4

The ancient familiarization of Richard.

6

Company.

KING RICHARD III.

395

To desperate ventures and assured destruction. You sleeping safe, they bring you to unrest; You having lands, and bless'd with beauteous wives, They would restrain the one, disdain the other. And who doth lead them, but a paltry fellow, Long kept in Bretagne at our mother's cost? A milk-sop, one that never in his life Felt so much cold as over shoes in snow? Let's whip these stragglers o'er the seas again; Lash hence these over-weening rags of France, These fainish'd beggars, weary of their lives; Who, but for dreaming on this fond exploit, For want of means, poor rats, had hang'd themselves: If we be conquer'd, let men conquer us, And not these bastard Bretagnes; whom our fathers Have in their own land beaten, bobb'd, and thump'cl, And, on record, left them the heirs of shame. Shall these enjoy our lands? lie with our wives? Ravish our daughters?—Hark, I hear their drum.

[Drum afar off. Fight, gentlemen of England! fight, bold yeomen! Draw, archers, draw your arrows to the head! Spur your proud horses hard, and ride in blood ; Amaze the welkin with your broken staves! Enter a

MESSENGER.

What says lord Stanley? will he bring his power? Messenger. My lord, he doth deny to come. King Richard. Off instantly with his son George's head. Norfolk. My lord, the enemy is pass'd the marsh; After the battle let George Stanley die. King Richard. A thousand hearts are great within my bosom: Advance our standards, set upon our foes; Our ancient word of courage, fair Saint George, Inspire us with the spleen of fiery dragons! Upon them! Victory sits on our helms. [Exeunt.

396

KING RICHARD III.

SCENE

IV.—Another part oftlie Field.

Alarum: Excursions.

Enter

NORFOLK, to him CATESBY.

and Forces;

Catesby. Rescue, my lord of Norfolk, rescue, rescue! The king enacts more wonders than a man, Daring an opposite to every danger; His horse is slain, and all on foot he fights, Seeking for Richmond in the throat of death: Rescue, fair lord, or else the day is lost! Alarum.

Enter

KING RICHARD.

King Richard. A horse! a horse! my kingdom for a horse! Catesby. Withdraw, my lord, I'll help you to a horse. King Richard. Slave, I have set my life upon a cast, And I will stand the hazard of the die : I think there be six Richmonds in the field; Five have I slain to-day, instead of him :— A horse!—a horse! my kingdom for a horse! [Exeunt. Alarums. Enter KING RICHARD and RICHMOND; and exeunt fighting. Retreat, and Flourish. Then enter RICHMOND, STANLEY bearing the Crown, with divers other Lords, and Forces. Richmond. God, and your arms, be prais'd, victorious friends; The day is ours, the bloody dog is dead. Stanley. Courageous Richmond, well hast thou acquit thee! Lo, here, this long-usurped royalty, From the dead temples of this bloody wretch Have I pluck'd off, to grace thy brows withal; Wear it, enjoy it, and make much of it. Richmond. Great God of heaven, say, amen, to all: But, tell me first, is young George Stanley living?

KING RICHARD III.

397

Stanley. He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town, Whither, if it please you, we may now withdraw us. Richmond. What men of name are slain on either side? Stanley. John duke of Norfolk, Walter lord Ferrers, Sir Robert Brackenbury, and sir William Brandon. Richmond. Inter their bodies as becomes their births. Proclaim a pardon to the soldiers fled, That in submission will return to us; And, then, as we have ta'en the sacrament, We will unite the white rose with the red:— Smile heaven upon this fair conjunction, That long hath frown'd upon their enmity!— What traitor hears me, and says not—Amen? England hath long been mad, and scarr'd herself; The brother blindly shed the brother's blood, The father rashly slaughter'd his own son, The son, compell'd, been butcher to the sire; All this divided York and Lancaster, Divided, in their dire division.— O, now, let Richmond and Elizabeth, The true succeeders of each royal house, By heaven's fair ordinance conjoin together! And let their heirs, (God, if thy will be so,) Enrich the time to come with smooth-fac'd peace, With smiling plenty, and fair prosperous days! Abate the edge of traitors, gracious Lord, That would reduce these bloody days again, And make poor England weep in streams of blood! Let them not live to taste this land's increase, That would with treason wound this fair land's peace! Now civil wounds are stopp'd, peace lives again; That she may long live here, God say—Amen. [Exeunt

KING HENRY VIII.

PERSONS KEPBESENTED.

KING HENRY THE EIGHTH. CARDINAL WOLSEY. CARDINAL CAMPEIUS. CAPUCIUS, Ambassador from the Emperor Charles the Fifth. CRANMER, Archbislwp of Canterbury. DUKE OF NORFOLK. DUKE OF BLCKINGHAM. DUKE OF SUFFOLK. EARL OF SURREY. LORD CHAMBERLAIN. LORD CHANCELLOR. GARDINER, Bishop of Winchester. BISHOP OF LINCOLN. LORD ABERGAVENNY. LORD SANDS. SIR HENRY GUILDFORD. SIR THOMAS LOVELL. SIR ANTHONY DENNY. SIR NICHOLAS VAUX, SECRETARIES TO WOLSEY. CKOMWELL, Servant to Wolsey. G R I F F I T H , Gentleman-usher to Queen Katharine. THREE OTHER GENTLEMEN. DOCTOR BUTTS, Physician to tJie King. GARTER KING AT ARMS. SURVEYOR TO THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM. BRANDON, AND A SERGEANT AT ARMS. DOOR-KEEPER OF THE COUNCIL-CHAMBER, PORTER AND HIS MAN. PAGE TO GARDINER. A CRIER. QUEEN KATHARINE, Wife to King Henry,afterwards divorced. A N N E BULLEN, her Maid of Honour; afterwards Queen. A N O L D LADY, Friend to Anne Bullen. PATIENCE, Woman to Queen Katharine.

Several Lords and. Ladies in the dumb shows; Women attending upon the Queen; Spirits, which appear to her; Scribes, Officers, Guards, and other Attendants. SCENE—Chiefly in London and Westminster;

once at Kimbolton,

KING HENRY VIII. PROLOGUE. I come no more to make you laugh; things now, That bear a weighty and a serious brow, Sad, high, and working, full of state and woe, Such noble scenes as draw the eye to flow, We now present. Those that can pity, here May, if they think it well, let fall a tear; The subject will deserve it. Such as give Their money out of hope they may believe, May here find truth too. Those, that come to see Only a show or two, and so agree, The play may pass; if they be still and willing, I'll undertake, may see away their shilling Richly in two short- hours. Only they, That come to hear a merry, wanton play, A noise of targets; or to see a fellow In a long motley coat, guarded1 with yellow, Will be deceived; for, gentle hearers, know, To rank our chosen truth with such a show As fool and fight is, beside forfeiting Our own brains, and the opinion that we bring, (To make that only true we now intend,2) Will leave us never an understanding friend. Therefore, for goodness' sake, and as you are known The first and happiest hearers of the town, Be sad, as we would make ye: Think, ye see The very persons of our noble story, As they were living; think you see them great, And follow'd with the general throng, and sweat, Of thousand friends: then, in a moment, see How soon this mightiness meets misery! And, if you can be merry then, I'll say, A man may weep upon his wedding day. 1

Laced. VOL. IV.

2

Pretend. 2D

402

KING HENRY VIII.

ACT L An Ante-chamber in tlie Palace. Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, at one door; at the other the DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, and tlie LORD ABERGAVENNY. Buckingham. Good morrow, and well met, How have you done, Since last we saw in France? Norfolk. I thank your grace: Healthful; and ever since a fresh admirer Of what I saw there. Buckingham. An untimely ague Stay'd me a prisoner in my chamber, when Those suns of glory, those two lights of men,1 Met in the vale of Arde. Norfolk. 'Twixt Guj7nes and Arde : I was then present, saw them salute on horseback; Beheld them, when they lighted, how they clung In their embracement, as they grew together; Which had they, what four thron'd ones could have weigh'd Such a compounded one? Buckingham. All the whole time I was my chamber's prisoner. Norfolk. Then you lost The view of earthly glory : Men might say, Till this time, pomp was single; but now married To one above itself. Each following day Became the next day's master, till the last Made former wonders it's: To-day, the French, All clinquant,2 all in gold, like heathen gods, Shone down the English: and, to-morrow, they Made Britain, India: every man that stood, Show'd like a mine. Their dwarfish pages were As cherubin, all gilt: the madams too, Not us'd to toil, did almost sweat to bear SCENE I.—LONDON.

1 2

Henry VIII. and Francis I. king of France. Glittering, shining.

KING HENRY VIII.

403

The pride upon them, that their very labour Was to them as a painting: now this mask Was cry'd incomparable; and the ensuing night Made it a fool, and beggar. The two kings, Equal in lustre, were now best, now worst, As presence did present them; him in eye, Still him in praise: and, being present both, 'Twas said, they saw but one; and no discerner Durst wag his tongue in censure.3 When these suns (For so they phrase them,) by their heralds challeug'd The noble spirits to arms, they did perform Beyond thought's compass; that former fabulous story Being now seen possible enough, got credit, That Be vis 4 was believ'd. Buckingham. O, you go far. Norfolk. As 1 belong to worship, and affect In honour honesty, the tract of every thing Would by a good discourser lose some life, Which action's self was tongue to. All was royal, To the disposing of it nought rebelled, Order gave each thing view; the office did Distinctly his full function. Buckingham. Who did guide. I mean, who set the body and the limbs Of this great sport together, as you guess? Norfolk. One, certes,5 that promiseth no element6 In such a business. Buckingham. I pray you, who, my lord? Norfolk. All this was order'd by the good discretion Of the right reverend cardinal of York. Buckingham. The devil speed him! noman'spieisfree'd From his ambitious finger. What had he To do in these fierce vanities? I wonder, That such a keech7 can with his very bulk Take up the rays o' the beneficial sun, And keep it from the earth. Norfolk. Surely, sir, 3 6

Tn opinion, which was most noble. 6 Certainly. Practice.

4

Sir Be vis, an old romance. 7 Lump of fat.

404

KING HENRY VIII.

There's in him stuff that puts him to these ends: For, being not propp'd by ancestry, (whose grace Chalks successors their way,) nor call'd upon For high feats done to the crown; neither allied To eminent assistants, but, spider-like, Out of his self-drawing web, he gives us note, The force of his own merit makes his way; A gift that heaven gives for him, which buys A place next to the king. Abergavenny. I cannot tell What heaven hath given him, let some graver eye Pierce into that; but I can see his pride Peep through each part of him: Whence has he that ? If not from hell, the devil is a niggard; Or has given all before, and he begins A new hell in himself. Buckingham. Why the devil, Upon this French going-out, took he upon him, Without the privity o' the king, to appoint Who should attend on him ? He makes up the file Of all the gentry; for the most part such Too, whom as great a charge as little honour He meant to lay upon : and his own letter,8 The honourable board of council out, Must fetch him in the papers. Abergavenny. I do know Kinsmen of mine, three at the least, that have By this so sicken'd their estates, that never They shall abound as formerly. Buckingham. O, many Have broke their backs with laying manors on them For this great journey. What did this vanity, But minister communication of A most poor issue? Norfolk. Grievingly I think The peace between the French an I us not values The cost that did conclude it. Buckingham. Eveiy man, 8

Sets down in hia letter without consulting the council.

KING HENRY VIII.

405

After the hideous storm that followed, was A thing inspir d: and, not consulting, broke Into a general prophecy,—That this tempest, Dashing the garment of this peace, aboded The sudden breach on't. Norfolk. "Which is budded out; For France hath flaw'd the league, and hath attached Our merchants' goods at Bourdeaux. Abergavenny. Is it therefore The ambassador is silenc'd? Norfolk. Marry, is't. Abergavenny. A proper title of a peace; and purchas'd At a superfluous rate! Buckingham. Why, all this business Our reverend cardinal carried.9 Norfolk. 'Like it, your grace, The state takes notice of the private difference Betwixt you and the cardinal. I advise you, (And take it from a heart that wishes towards you Honour and plenteous safety,) that you read The cardinal's malice and his potency Together: to consider further, that What his high hatred would effect, wants not A minister in his power: You know his nature, That he's revengeful; and I know, his sword Hath a sharp edge: it's long, and, it may be said, It reaches far; and where 'twill not extend, Thither he darts it. Bosom up my counsel, You'll find it wholesome. Lo, where comes that rock, That I advise your shunning. Enter CARDINAL WOLSEY, (the purse borne before him,) certain of the Guard, and two SECRETARIES with Papers. The CARDINAL in his passagefixeth his eye on BUCKINGHAM, and BUCKINGHAM on him, both full of disdain. Wolsey. The Duke of Buckingham's surveyor? ha? Where's his examination ? 1 Secretary. Here, so please you. 9

Conducted.

406

KING HENRY VIII.

Wolsey. Is he in person ready? 1 Secretary. Ay, please your grace. Wolsey. Well, we shall then know more; and Buckingham Shall lessen this big look. [Exeunt WOLSEY, and Train. Buckingham. This butcher's cur 1 is venom-mouth'd, and I Have not the power to muzzle him: therefore best Not wake him in his slumber. A beggar's book Out-worths a noble's blood. Northumberland. What, are you chafd? Ask heaven for temperance; that's the appliance only, Which your disease requires. Buckingham. I read in his looks Matter against me; and his eye revil'd Me, as his abject object: at this instant He bores2 me with some trick: He's gone to the king; I'll follow, and out-stare him. Norfolk. Stay, my lord, And let your reason with your choler question What 'tis you go about: To climb steep hills Requires slow pace at first: Anger is like A full-hot horse; who being allow'd his way, Self-mettle tires him. Not a man in England Can advise me like you; be to yourself As you would to your friend. Buckingham. I'll to the king, And from a mouth of honour quite cry down This Ipswich fellow's insolence; or proclaim, There's difference in no persons. Norfolk. Be advis'd: Heat not a furnace for your foe so hot That it do singe yourself: We may out-run, By violent swiftness, that which we run at, And lose by over-running. Know you not, The fire, that mounts the liquor till it run o'er, In seeming to augment it, wastes it? Be advis'd: 1

Wolsey was the son of a butcher.

2

Stabs.

KING HENEY VIII.

407

I say again, there is no English soul More stronger to direct you than yourself: If with the sap of reason you would quench, Or but allay, the fire of passion. Buckingham. Sir, I am thankful to you: and I'll go along By your prescription:—but this top-proud fellow, (Whom from the flow of gall I name not, but From sincere motions,) by intelligence, And proofs as clear as founts in July, when We see each grain of gravel, I do know To be corrupt and treasonous. Norfolk. Say not, treasonous. Buckingham. To the king 111 say't; and make my vouch as strong As shore of rock. Attend. This holy fox, Or wolf, or both, (for he is equal ravenous, As he is subtle; and as prone to mischief, As able to perform it: his mind and place Infecting one another, yea, reciprocally,) Only to show his pomp as well in France As here at home, suggests3 the king our master To this last costly treaty, the interview, That swallow'd so much treasure, and like a glass Did break i' the rinsing. Norfolk. 'Faith, and so it did. Buckingham. Pray, give me favour, sir. This cunning cardinal The articles o' the combination drew, As himself pleas'd; and they were ratified, As he cried, Thus let be: to as much end, As give a cratch to the dead: Bufc our count-cardinal Has done this, and 'tis well; for worthy Wolsey, Who cannot err, he did it. Now this follows, (Which, as I take it, is a kind of puppy To the old dam, treason,)—Charles the emperor, Under pretence to see the queen his aunt, (For 'twas, indeed, his colour; but he came 3

Excites.

408

KING HENRY VIII.

To whisper Wolsey,) here makes visitation: His fears were, that the interview, betwixt England and France, might, through their amity, Breed him some prejudice; for from this league Peep'd arms that menaced him: He privily Deals with our cardinal; and, as I trow,— Which I do well; for, I am sure, the emperor Paid ere he promis'd; whereby his suit was granted, Ere it was ask'd;—but when the way was made, And pav'd with gold, the emperor thus desir'd;— That he would please to alter the king's course And break the aforesaid peace. Let the king know, (As soon he shall by me,) that thus the cardinal Does buy and sell his honour as he pleases, And for his own advantage. Norfolk. I am sorry To hear this of him; and could wish, he were Something mistaken in't. Buckingham. No, not a syllable I do pronounce him in that very shape, He shall appear in proof. Enter

BRANDON ;

a SERGEANT AT ARMS before him, and two or three of the Guard. Brandon. Your office, sergeant; execute it. Sergeant. Sir, My lord the duke of Buckingham, and earl Of Hereford, Stafford, and Northampton, I Arrest thee of high treason, in the name Of our most sovereign king. Bucking]tarn. Lo you, my lord, The net has fall'n upon me; I shall jDerish Under device and practice.4 Brandon. I am sorry To see you ta'en from liberty, to look on The business present: 'Tis his highness' pleasure You shall to the Tower. Buckingham. It will help me nothing, 4

Unfair stratagem.

KING HENRY VIII.

409

To plead mine innocence; for that dye is on me, Which makes my whitest part black. The will of heaven Be done in this and all things!—I obey.— 0 my lord Aberga'ny, fare you well. Brandon. Nay, he must bear you company:—The king [To ABERGAVENNY. Is pleas'd, you shall to the Tower, till you know How he determines further. Abergavenny. As the duke said, The will of heaven be done, and the king's pleasure By me obey'd. Brandon. Here is a warrant from The king, to attach lord Montacute; and the bodies Of the duke's confessor, John de la Court, One Gilbert Peck, his chancellor,— Buckingham. So, so; These are the limbs of the plot: no more, I hope. Brandon. A monk o' the Chartreux. Buckingham. 0, Nicholas Hopkins? Brandon. He. Buckingham. My surveyor is false; the o'er-great cardinal Hath show'd him gold: my life is spann'd already; 1 am the shadow of poor Buckingham; Whose figure even this instant cloud puts on, By dark'ning my clear sun.—My lord, farewell. [Exeunt. SCENE

II.—TJie CounciUcliamber.

Cornets. Enter

KING HENRY, CARDINAL WOLSEY, the LORDS of the COUNCIL, SIR THOMAS LOVELL, OFFICERS, and ATTENDANTS. The KING enters, leaning on tlie CARDINAL'S shoulder.

King Henry. My life itself and the best heart of it, Thanks you for this great care: I stood i' the level Of a full-charg'd confederacy, and give thanks To you that chok'd it.—Let be call'd before us

410

KING HENRY VIII.

That gentleman of Buckingham's: in person I'll hear him his confessions justify; And point by point the treasons of his master He shall again relate. The KING takes his State* The LORDS OF THE COUNCIL take their several Places. Tlw CARDINAL places himself under the KING'S Feet, on his right Side. A Noise within, crying, ROOM FOR THE QUEEN. Enter the QUEEN, ushered by the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK . she kneels. Tlw KING riseth/rom his State, takes her up, kisses, andplaceth her by him. Queen Katharine. Nay, we must longer kneel; I am a suitor. King Henry. Arise, and take place by us:—Half your suit Never name to us; you have half our power: The other moiety, ere you ask, is given; Repeat your will, and take it. Queen Katharine. Thank your majesty. That you would love yourself; and in that love, Not unconsider'd leave your honour, nor The dignity of your office, is the point Of my petition. King Henry. Lady mine, proceed. Queen Katharine. I am solicited, not by a few, And those of true condition, that your subjects Are in great grievance: there hath been commissions Sent down among them, which hath flaw'd the heart Of all their loyalties:—wherein, although, My good lord cardinal, they vent reproaches Most bitterly on you, as putter-on Of these exactions, yet the king our master, (Whose honour heaven shield from soil!) even he escapes not Language unmannerly, yea, such which breaks The sides of loyalty, and almost appears, In loud rebellion. 5

Chair of state, throne.

KING HENRY VIII.

411

Norfolk. Not almost appears, It doth appear; for, upon these taxations, The clothiers all, not able to maintain The many to them 'longing, have put off The spinsters, carders, fullers, weavers, who, Unfit for other life, compell'd by hunger And lack of other means, in desperate manner Daring the event to the teeth, are all in uproar, And danger serves among them. King Henry. Taxation! "Wherein? and what taxation?—My lord cardinal, You that are blam'd for it alike with us, Know you of this taxation? Wolsey. Please you, sir, I know but of a single part, in aught Pertains to the state; and front but in that file Where others tell steps with me.6 Queen Katharine. No, my lord, You know no more than others: but you frame Things, that are known alike; which are not wholesome To those which would not know them, and yet must Perforce by their acquaintance. These exactions, Whereof my sovereign would have note, they are Most pestilent to the hearing; and to bear them, The back is sacrifice to tho load. They say, They are devis'd by you; or else you suffer Too hard an exclamation. King Henry. Still exaction! The nature of it ? In what kind, let's know, Is this exaction ? Queen Katharine. I am much too venturous In tempting of your patience; but am bolden'd Under your promis'd pardon. The subject's grief Comes through commissions, which compel from each The sixth part of his substance, to be levied Without delay; and the pretence for this Is nam'd, your wars in France: This makes bold mouths: Tongues spit their duties out, and cold hearts freeze c

I am only one among the other counsellors.

412

KING HENBY VIII.

Allegiance in them; their curses now, Live where their prayers did; and it's come to pass, That tractable obedience is a slave To each incensed will. I would, your highness Would give it quick consideration, for There is no primer7 business. King Henry. By my life, This is against our pleasure. Wolsey. And for me, I have no farther gone in this, than by A single voice; and that not pass'd me, but By learned approbation of the judges. If I am traduc'd by tongues, which neither know My faculties, nor person, yet will be The chronicles of my doing,—let me say, 'Tis but the fate of place, and the rough brake 8 That virtue must go through. We must not stint Our necessary actions, in the fear. To cope9 malicious censurers; which ever, As ravenous fishes, do a vessel follow That is new trimm'd; but benefit no further Than vainly longing. What we oft do best, By sick interpreters, once1 weak ones, is Not ours, or not allow'd;2 what worst, as oft, Hitting a grosser quality, is cried up For our best act. If we shall stand still, In fear our motion will be mock'd or carp'd at, We should take root here where we sit, or sit State statues only. King Henry. Things done well, And with a care, exempt themselves from fear; Things done without example, in their issue Are to be fear'd. Have you a precedent Of this commission? I believe, not any. We must not rend our subjects from our laws, And stick them in our will. Sixth part of each? A trembling contribution! Why, we take, 7 9

More important. Encounter.

8 l

Sometime.

2

Thicket of thorns, Approved.

KING HENRY VIII.

413

From every tree, lop, bark, and part o' the timber; And though we leave it with a root, thus hack'd, The air will drink the sap. To every county, Where this is questioned, send our letters, with Free pardon to each man that has denied The force of this commission: Pray, look to't; I put it to your care. Wolsey. A word with you. [To the Secretary. Let there be letters writ to every shire, Of the king's grace and pardon. The griev'd commons Hardly conceive of me; let it be nois'd, That through our intercession, this revokement And pardon comes: I shall anon advise you Further in the proceeding. [Exit Secretary. Enter SURVEYOR. Queen Katharine. I am sorry that the duke of Buckingham Is run in your displeasure. King Henry. It grieves many: The gentleman is learn'd, and a most rare speaker; To nature none more bound; his training such, That he may furnish and instruct great teachers, And never seek for aid out of himself. Yet see When these so noble benefits shall prove ISTot well dispos'd, the mind growing once corrupt, They turn to vicious forms, ten times more ugly Than ever they were fair. This man so complete, Who was enroll'd 'mongst wonders, and when we, Almost with ravish'd listening, could not find His hour of speech a minute; he, my lady, Hath into monstrous habits put the graces That once were his, and is become as black As if besmear'd in hell. Sit by us: you shall hear (This was his gentleman in trust,) of him Things to strike honour sad.—Bid him recount The fore-recited practices; whereof We cannot feel too little, hear too much.

414:

KING HENRY VIIL

Wolsey. Standforth; and with bold spirit relate what you, Most like a careful subject, have collected Out of the duke of Buckingham, King Henry. Speak freely Surveyor. First, it was usual with him, every day I t would infect his speech,.That if the king Should without issue die, he'd carry it so To make the scepter his: These very words I have heard him utter to his son-in-law, Lord Aberga'ny; to whom by oath he menac'd Revenge upon the cardinal. Wolsey. Please your highness, note This dangerous conception in this point. Not friended by his wish, to your high person His will is most malignant; and it stretches Beyond you, to your friends. Queen Katharine. My learn'd lord cardinal, Deliver all with charity. King Henry. Speak on: How grounded he his title to the crown, Upon our fail? to this point hast thou heard him At any time speak aught? Surveyor. He was brought to this By a vain prophecy of Nicholas Hopkins. King Henry. What was that Hopkins? Surveyor. Sir, a Chartreux friar, His confessor, who fed him every minute With words of sovereignty. King Henry. How know'st thou this? Surveyor. Not long before your highness sped to France, The duke being at the Rose,3 within the parish Saint Lawrence Poultney, did of me demand What was the speech amongst the Londoners Concerning the French journey: I replied, Men fear'd, the French would prove perfidious, To the king's danger. Presently the duke Said, 'Twas the fear, indeed; and that he doubted, 'Twould prove the verity of certain words 3

Now Merchant Tailors' School.

KING HENRY VIII.

415

Spoke by a holy monk; That oft, says he, Hath sent to me, wishing me to permit John de la Court, my chaplain, a choice hour To hear from him a matter of some moment: Whom after under the confessions seal He solemnly had sworn, that ichat lie spoke, My chaplain to no creature living, but To me, should utter, with demure confidence This pausingly ensu'd,—Neither the king, nor his heirs, {Tell you the duke) shall prosper: bid him strive To gain the love of the commonalty; the duke Shall govern England. Queen Katharine. If I know you well, You were the duke's surveyor, and lost your office On the complaint o' the tenants: Take good heed, You charge not in your spleen a noble person, And spoil your nobler soul! I say, take heed; Yes, heartily beseech you. King Henry. Let him on:— Go forward. Surveyor. On my soul, I'll speak but truth, I told my lord the duke, by the devil's illusions The monk might be deceiv'd; and that 'twas dang'roua for him, To ruminate on this so far, until It forged him some design, which, being believ'd, I t was much like to do: He answer'd, Tush! It can do me no damage: adding further, That, had the king in his last sickness fail'd, The cardinal's and sir Thomas Lovell's heads Should have gone off. King Henry. Ha! what, so rank? Ah, ha ! There's mischief in this man: Canst thou say further? Surveyor. I can, my liege. King Henry. Proceed. Surveyor. Being at Greenwich, After your highness had reprov'd the duke About sir William Blomer,— King Henry. I remember,

416

KING HENRY VIII.

Of such a time:—Being my servant sworn, The duke retain'd him his. But on; What hence? Surveyor. If, quoth he, 1 for this had been committed, As to the Tower, I thought,—/ would have play d Tlie part my fatlier meant to act upon Tlie usurper Richard: who, being at Salisbury, Made suit to come in his presence; which if granted\ As he made semblance of his duty, woidd Have put his knife into him. King Henry. A giant traitor! Wolsey. Now, madam, may his highness live in freedom, And this man out of prison? Queen Katharine. Heaven mend all! King Henry. There's something more would out of thee; What say'st? Surveyor. After—the dukehisfather,—wthtlie knife,— He stretch'd him, and, with one hand on his dagger, Another spread on his breast, mounting his eyes, He did discharge a horrible oath; whose tenour Was,—Were he evil us'd, he would out-go His father, by as much as a performance Does an irresolute purpose. King Henry. There's his period, To sheath his knife in us. He is attach'd; Call him to present trial: if he may Find mercy in the law, 'tis his; if none, Let him not seek't of us: By day and night, He's traitor to the height. [Exeunt. III.—A Room in tlie Palace. Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN, and LORD SANDS. Chamberlain. Is it possible, the spells of France should u le m j gg Men into such strange mysteries? Sands. New customs, Though they be never so ridiculous, Nay, let them be unmanly, yet are follow'd. Chamberlain. As far as I see, all the good our English SCENE

KING HENRY VIII.

417

Have got by the late voyage, if but merely A fit4 or two o' the face; but they are shrewd ones; For when they hold them, you would swear directly, Their very noses had been counsellors To Pepin, or Clotharius, they keep state so. Sands. They have all new legs, and lame ones; one would take it, That never saw them pace before, the spavin, A springhalt5 reign'd among them. Chamberlain. Death! my lord, Their clothes are after such a pagan cut too, That, sure, they have worn out Christendom. How now ? What news, sir Thomas Lovell? Enter

SIR THOMAS LOVELL.

Lovell. 'Faith, my lord, I hear of none but the new proclamation That's clapp'd upon the court-gate. Chamberlain. What is't for? Lovell. The reformation of our travelled gallants, That fill the court with quarrels, talk, and tailors. Chamberlain. I am glad, 'tis there; now I would pray our monsieurs To think an English courtier may be wise And never see the Louvre.6 Lovell. They must either (For so run the conditions,) leave these remnants Of fool, and feather, that they got in France, With all their honourable points of ignorance, Pertaining thereunto, (as fights, and fireworks; Abusing better men than they can be, Out of a foreign wisdom,) renouncing clean The faith they have in tennis, and tall stockings, Short blister'd breeches, and those types of travel, And understand again like honest men; Or pack to their old playfellows: there, I take it, 4 6

Grimace. A palace at Paris. IV,

° Disease incident to horses, 2 E

418

KING HENRY VIII.

They may, cum privilegio/ wear away The lag end of their wildness, and be laugh'd at. Sands. 'Tis time to give them physick, their diseases Are grown so catching. Chamberlain. What a loss our ladies Will have of these trim vanities! Lovell. Ay, marry, There will be woe indeed. Sands. I am glad, they're going; (For, sure, there's no converting of them;) now An honest country lord, as I am, beaten A long time out of play, may bring his plain-song, And have an hour of hearing; and, by'r-lady, Held current musick too. Chamberlain. Well said, lord Sands; Your colt's tooth is not cast yet. Sands. No, my lord; Nor shall not, while I have a stump. Chamberlain. Sir Thomas Whither were you a going? Lovell. To the cardinal's; Your lordship is a guest too. Cliamberlain. O, 'tis true: This night he makes a supper, and a great one, To many lords and ladies; there will be The beauty of this kingdom, I'll assure you. Lovell. That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed, A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us; His dews fall every where. Chamberlain. No doubt, he's noble; He had a black mouth, that said other of him. Sands. He may, my lord, he has wherewithal; in him7 Sparing would show a worse sin than ill doctrine: Men of his way should be most liberal, They are set here for examples. Chamberlain. True, they are so; But few now give so great ones. My barge stays; 7

With authority.

KING HENRY VIII.

419

Your lordship shall along :—Come, good sir Thornas, We shall be late else: which I would not be, For I was spoke to, with sir Henry Guildford., This night to be comptrollers. Sands. I am your lordship's: [Exeunt. IV.—The Presence-Chamber in YORK-PLACE. Hautboys. A small Table under a State for tlie CARDINAL, a longer Table for the Guests. Enter at our Door ANNE BULLEN, and divers Lords, Ladies, and Gentlewomen, as Guests; at another Door, enter SIR SCENE

HENRY GUILDFORD.

Guildford. Ladies, a general welcome from his grace Salutes ye all: This night he dedicates To fair content, and you: none here, he hopes, In all this noble bevy,8 has brought with her One care abroad; he would have all as meriy As first-good company, good wine, good welcome Can make good people. 0, my lord, you are tardy; Enter

LORD CHAMBERLAIN, LORD SANDS, and SIR THOMAS LOVELL.

The very thought of this fair company Clapp'd wings to me. Chamberlain. You are young, sir Harry Guildford. Sweet ladies, will it please you sit? Sir Harry, Place you that side, 111 take the charge of this: His grace is entering.—Nay, you must not freeze; Two women plac'd together makes cold weather:— My lord Sands, you are one will keep them waking; Pray, sit between these ladies. Sands. By my faith, And thank your lordship.—By your leave, sweet ladies ; [Seats himself between ANNE BULLEN and another Lady. If I chance to talk a little wild, forgive me; I had it from my father. 8

Company.

420

KING HENRY VIII.

Anne. Was he mad, sir? Sands. 0, very mad, exceeding mad, in love too: But he would bite none; just as I do now, He would kiss you twenty with a breath, [Kisses her. Chamberlain. Well said, my lord.— So, now you are fairly seated:—Gentlemen, The penance lies on you, if these fair ladies Pass away frowning. Sands. For my little cure, Let me alone. Hautboys.

Enter

CARDINAL WOLSEY,

attended; and

takes his State. Wolsey. You are welcome, my fair guests; that noble lady, Or gentleman, that is not freely merry, Is not my friend: This, to confirm my welcome; And to you all good health. [Drinks. Sands. Your grace is noble;— Let me have such a bowl may hold my thanks, And save me so much talking. Wolsey. My lord Sands, I am beholden to you: cheer your neighbours.— Ladies, you are not merry;—Gentlemen, Whose fault is this? Sands. The red wine first must rise In their fair cheeks, my lord; then we shall have them Talk us to silence. Anne. You are a merry gamester, My lord Sands. Sands. Yes, if I make my play,9 Here's to your ladyship; and pledge it, madam. [Drwn and Trumpets within: Chambers1 discharged. Wolsey. What's that? Clmmberlain. Look out there, some of you. [Exit a Servant. 9

Choose my game.

l

Small cannon.

KING HENRY VIII.

421

Wolsey. What warlike voice? And to what end is this?—Nay, ladies, fear not; By all the laws of war you are privileged. Re-enter SERVANT. Chamberlain. How now? whatis't? Servant. A noble troop of strangers; For so they seem: they have left their barge, and landed; And hither make, as great ambassadors From foreign princes. Wolsey. Good lord chamberlain, Go, give them welcome, you can speak the French tongue; And, pray, receive them nobly, and conduct them, Into our presence, where this heaven of beauty Shall shine at full upon them:—Some attend him.— \Exit CHAMBERLAIN, attended. All arise, and Tables removed. You have now a broken banquet: but we'll mend it. A good digestion to you all: and, once more, I shower a welcome on you;—Welcome all. Hautboys. Enter the KING, and twelve otJiers, as Maskers, habited like She]}Jierds, with sixteen Torchbearers; ushered by the LORD CHAMBERLAIN. They pass directly before the CARDINAL, and gracefully salute him. A noble company! what are their pleasures? Chamberlain. Because they speak no English, thus they pray'd To tell your grace:—That, having heard by fame Of this so noble and so fair assembly This night to meet here, they could do no less, Out of the great respect they bear to beauty, But leave their flocks; and, under your fair conduct, Crave leave to view these ladies, and entreat An hour of revels with them. Wolsey. Say, lord chamberlain.

422

KING HENRY VIII.

They have done my poor house grace; for which I pay them A thousand thanks, and pray them take their pleasures. [Ladies chosen for the Dance. The KING chooses ANNE BULLEN. King Henry The fairest hand I ever touched! O, beauty, Till now I never knew thee. [Musick Dance. Wolsey. My lord, Chamberlain. Your grace? Wolsey. Pray tell them thus much from me: There should be one amongst them, by his person, More worthy this place than myself; to whom, If I but knew him, with my love and duty I would surrender it. Chamberlain. I will, my lord. [CHAMBERLAIN goes to tlie Company, and returns. Wolsey. What say they? Chamberlain. Such a one, they all confess, There is, indeed; which they would have your grace Find out, and he will take it. Wolsey. Let me see, then.—[Comes from his State. By all your good leaves, gentlemen;—Here I'll make My royal choice. King Henry. You have found him, cardinal: [ Unmasking. You hold a fair assembly; you do well, lord: You are a churchman, or, I'll tell you, cardinal, I should judge now unhappily.2 Wolsey. I am glad, Your grace is grown so pleasant. King Henry. My lord chamberlain, Pr'ythee, come hither: What fair lady's that? Chamberlain. An't please your grace, sir Thomas Bullen's daughter, The viscount Rochford, one of her highness' women. King Henry. By heaven, she is a dainty one.— Sweetheart, 2

Mischievously,

KING HENRY VIII.

423

I were unmannerly to take you out, And not to kiss you.—A health, gentlemen, Let it go round. Wolsey. Sir Thomas Lovell, is the banquet ready I' the privy chamber? Lovell. Yes, my lord Wolsey. Your grace, I fear with dancing is a little heated. King Henry. I fear too much. Wolsey. There's fresher air, my lord, In the next chamber. King Henry. Lead in your ladies, every one.—Sweet partner, I must not yet forsake you: Let's be merry:— Good my lord cardinal, I have half a dozen healths To drink to these fair ladies, and a measure3 To lead them once again; and then let's dream Who's best in favour.—Let the musick knock it. \Eoceunt, with Trumpets. ACT IT. SCENE

I.—A Street

Enter two GENTLEMEN, meeting. 1 Gentleman. Whither away so fast? 2 Gentleman. O,—save you, sir, Even to the hall, to hear what shall become Of the great duke of Buckingham. 1 Gentleman. I'll save you That labour, sir. All's now done, but the ceremony Of bringing back the prisoner. 2 Gentleman. Were you there? 1 Gentleman. Yes, indeed, was I. Pray speak, what has happen'd? 2 Gentleman. 1 Gentleman. You may guess quickly what. Is he found guilty? 2 Gentleman. 3

Dance.

424

KING HENRY VIII.

1 Gentleman. Yes, truly is he, and condemned upon it. 2 Gentleman. I am sorry for't. 1 Gentleman. So are a number more. 2 Gentleman. But, pray, how pass'd it ? 1 Gentleman. I'll tell you in a little. The great duke Came to the bar; where, to his accusations, He pleaded still not guilty, and alleg'd Many sharp reasons to defeat the law. The king's attorney, on the contrary, Urg'd on the examinations, proofs, confessions Of divers witnesses; which the duke desir'd To him brought, viva voce, to his face: At which appear'd against him, his surveyor; Sir Gilbert Peck, his chancellor; and John Court, Confessor to him; with that devil-monk, Hopkins, that made this mischief. 2 Gentleman. That was he That fed him with his prophecies? 1 Gentleman. The same. All these accus'd him strongly; which he fain Would have flung from him, but, indeed, he could not: And so his peers, upon this evidence, Have found him guilty of high treason. Much He spoke, and learnedly, for life: but all Was either pitied in him, or forgotten. 2 Gentleman. After all this, how did he bear himself? 1 Gentleman. When he was brought again to the bar, —to hear His knell rung out, his judgment,—he was stirr'd With such an agony, he sweat extremely, And something spoke in choler, ill and hasty: But he fell to himself again, and sweetly, In all the rest show'd a most noble patience. 2 Gentleman. I do not think he fears death. 1 Gentleman. Sure, he does not, He never was so womanish; the cause He may a little grieve at. 2 Gentlemom. Certainly, The cardinal is the end of this:

KING HENRY VIII.

425

1 Gentlemcm. 'Tis likely, By all conjectures: First, Kildare's attainder, Then deputy of Ireland; who remov'd, Earl Surrey was sent thither, and in haste too. Lest he should help his father, 2 Gentleman. That trick of state Was a deep envious one. 1 Gentleman. At his return, No doubt, he will requite it. This is noted, And generally; whoever the king favours, The cardinal instantly will find employment, And far enough from court too. 2 Gentleman. All the commons Hate him perniciously, and, o' my conscience, Wish him ten fathom deep: this duke as much They love, and dote on; call him, bounteous Buckingham, The mirror of all courtesy;— 1 Gentleman. Stay there, sir, And see the noble ruin'd man you speak of. Enter BUCKINGHAM from his Arraignment; Tipstaves before him, the Axe with the Edge towards him; Halberds on each Side: with him SIR THOMAS LOVELL, SIR

NICHOLAS YAUX,

SIR

WILLIAM

SANDS,

and

common People. 2 Gentleman. Let's stand close, and behold him. Buckingham. All good people, You that thus far have come to pity me, Hear what I say, and then go home and lose me. I have this day receiv'd a traitor's judgment, And by that name must die; yet, heaven bear witness, And, if I have a conscience, let it sink me, Even as the axe falls, if I be not faithful! The law I bear no malice for my death, I t has done, upon the premises, but justice: But those that sought it, I could wish more Christians: Be what they will, I heartily forgive them : Yet let them look they glory not in mischief,

426

KING HENRY VIII.

Nor build their evils on the graves of great men; For then my guiltless blood must cry against them. For further life in this world I ne'er hope, Nor will I sue, although the king have mercies More than I dare make faults. You few that lov'd me, And dare be bold to weep for Buckingham, His noble friends, and fellows, whom to leave Is only bitter to him, only dying, Go, with me, like good angels, to my end; And, as the long divorce of steel falls on me, Make of your prayers one sweet sacrifice, And lift my soul to heaven.—Lead on, o' God's name. Lovell. I do beseech your grace, for charity, If ever any malice in your heart Were hid against me, now to forgive me frankly. Buckingham. Sir Thomas Lovell, I as free forgive you, As I would be forgiven: I forgive all; There cannot be those numberless offences 'Gainst me, I can't take peace with: no black envy Shall make my grave.—Commend me to his grace; And, if he speak of Buckingham, pray, tell him, You met him half in heaven: my vows and prayers Yet are the king's; and, till my soul forsake me, Shall cry for blessings on him: May he live Longer than I have time to tell his years! Ever belov'd, and loving, may his rule be! And, when old Time shall lead him to his end, Goodness and he fill up one monument! Lovell. To the water side I must conduct your grace; Then give my charge up to sir Nicholas Vaux. Who undertakes you to your end. Vaux. Prepare there, The duke is coming: see, the barge be ready; And fit it with such furniture as suits The greatness of his person. Buckingham. Nay> sir Nicholas, Let it alone; my state now will but mock me. When I came hither, I was lord high constable, And duke of Buckingham; now, poor Edward Bohun:

KING HENRY VIIL

427

Yet I am richer than my base accusers, That never knew what truth meant: I now seal it; And with that blood will make them one day groan for't. My noble father, Henry of Buckingham, Who first rais'd head against usurping Richard, Flying for succour to his servant Banister, Being distressed, was by that wretch betray'd, And without trial fell; God's peace be with him! Henry the Seventh succeeding, truly pitying My father's loss, like a most royal prince, Restored me to my honours, and, out of ruins, Made my name once more noble. Now his son, Henry the Eighth, life, honour, name, and all That made me happy, at one stroke has taken For ever from the world. I had my trial, And, must needs say, a noble one; which makes me A little happier than my wretched father: Yet thus Ha1 we are one in fortunes:—Both Fell by our servants, by those men we lov'd most; A most unnatural and faithless service! Heaven has an end in all: Yet, you that hear me, This from a dying man receive as certain: Where you are liberal of your loves, and counsels, Be sure, you be not loose; for those you make friends, And give your hearts to, when they once perceive The least rub in your fortunes, fall away Like water from ye, never found again But where they mean to sink ye. All good people, Pray for me! I must now forsake ye; the last hour Of my long weary life is come upon me. Farewell: And when you would say something that is sad, Speak how I fell.—I have done; and God forgive me! [Uxeunt BUCKINGHAM and Train. 1 Gentleman. O, this is full of pity!—Sir, it calls, I fear, too many curses on. their heads, That were the authors. 2 Gentleman. If the duke be guiltless, 'Tis fvdl of woe: yet I can give you inkling

428

KING HENRY VIII.

Of an ensuing evil, if it fall, Greater than this. 1 Gentleman. Good angels keep it from us! Where may it be? you do not doubt my faith, sir? 2 Gentleman. This secret is so weighty, 'twill require A strong faith to conceal it. 1 Gentleman. Let me have it; I do not talk much. 2 Gentleman. I am confident; You shall, sir; Did you not of late days hear A buzzing, of a separation Between the king and Katharine? 1 Gentleman. Yes, but it held not; For when the king once heard it, out of anger He sent command to the lord mayor straight To stop the rumour/ and allay those tongues That clurst disperse it. 2 Gentleman. But that slander, sir, Is found a truth now: for it grows again Fresher than e'er it was; and held for certain, The king will venture at it. Either the cardinal, Or some about him near, have, out of malice To the good queen, possess'd him with a scruple That will undo her: To confirm this too, Cardinal Campeius is arriv'd, and lately; As all think, for this business. 1 Gentleman. 'Tis the cardinal; And merely to revenge him on the emperor, For not bestowing on him, at his asking, The archbishoprick of Toledo, this is purpos'd. 2 Gentleman. I think, you have hit the mark: but is't not cruel, That she should feel the smart of this? The cardinal Will have his will, and she must fall. 1 Gentleman. 'Tis woful. We are too open here to argue this; Let's think in private more. [Exeunt.

KING HENRY VIII.

429

II.—An Ante-chamber in the Palace. Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN, reading a Letter. CHAMBERLAIN. My lord>—The horses yowr lordship sent for, with all the care T had, I saw well chosen, ridden, and furnished. They were young, and handsome; and of the best breed in tJie north. When they were ready to set out for London, a man of my lord cardinal's, by commission, and main power, took 'em from me; with this reason,—His master would be served before a subject, if not before the king; which stopped our mouths, sir. I fear, he will, indeed; Well, let him have them: He will have all, I think. SCENE

Enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. Norfolk. Well met, my good Lord chamberlain. Cliamberlain. Good day to both your graces. Suffolk. How is the king employ'd ? Chamberlain. I left him private, Full of sad thoughts and troubles. Norfolk. What's the cause ? Chamberlain. It seems, the marriage with his brother's wife Has crept too near his conscience, Suffolk. No, his conscience Has crept too near another lady. Norfolk. 'Tisso; This is the cardinal's doing, the king-cardinal: That blind priest, like the eldest son of fortune, Turns what he lists. The king will know him one day. Suffolk. Pray heaven, he do! he'll never know himself else. Norfolk. How holily he works in all his business! And with what zeal! For now he has crack'd the league Between us and the emperor, the queen's great nephew, He dives into the king's soul; and there scatters Dangers, doubts, wringing of the conscience, Fears, and despairs, and all these for his mairiage:

430

KING HENRY VIII.

And, out of all these to restore the king, He counsels a divorce: a loss of her, That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years About his neck, yet never lost her lustre; Of her, that loves him with that excellence That angels love good men with; even of her That, when the greatest stroke of fortune falls, Will bless the king: And is not this course pious? Chamberlain. Heaven keep me from such counsel! 'Tis most true, These news are every where; every tongue speaks them, And every true heart weeps for't: All, that dare Look into these affairs, see this main end,— The French king's sister. Heaven will one day open The king's eyes, that so long have slept upon This bold bad man. Suffolk. And free us from his slavery. Norfolk. We had need pray, And heartily, for our deliverance; Or this imperious man will work us all From princes into pages: all men's honours Lie in one lump before him, to be fashion'd Into what pitch he please. Suffolk. For me, my lords, I love him not, nor fear him; there's my creed: As I am made without him, so I'll stand, If the king please; his curses and his blessings Touch me alike, they are breath I not believe in. I knew him, and I know him; so I leave him To him, that made him proud, the pope, Norfolk. Let's in; And, with some other business, put the king From these sad thoughts, that work too much upon him:— My lord, you'll bear us company? Chamberlain. Excuse me; The king hath sent me other-where: besides, You'll find a most unfit time to disturb him: Health to your lordships.

KING HENRY VIII.

Norfolk.

43]

Thanks, my good lord chamberlain. [Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

oj)ens a Folding-door. TJie KING is discovered sitting, and reading pensively Suffolk. How sad he looks! sure, he is much afflicted. King Henry. Who is there? ha? Norfolk. 'Pray heaven he be not angry. King Henry. Who's there, I say ? How dare you thrust yourselves Into my private meditations? Who am Tl ha? Norfolk. A gracious king, that pardons all offences, Malice ne'er meant: our breach of duty, this way, Is business of estate; in which, we come To know your royal pleasure. King Henry. You are too bold; Go to; I'll make you know your times of business: Is this an hour for temporal affairs? ha?—

NORFOLK

Enter

WOLSEY

and

CAMPEIUS.

Who's there? my good lord cardinal?—O my Wolsey The quiet of my wounded conscience, Thou art a cure fit for a king.—You're welcome, [To CAMPEIUS.

Most learned reverend sir, into our kingdom; Use us, and it:—My good lord, have great care I be not found a talker. [To WOLSEY Wolsey. Sir, you cannot. I would your grace would give us but an hour Of private conference. King Henry. We are busy; go. [To NORFOLK and

SUFFOLK.

Norfolk. This priest has no pride in him? \ Suffolk. Not to speak of; I would not be so sick though,4 for his place: But this cannot continue. 4

So sick as he is proud.

432

KING HENRY VIII.

Norfolk. Kit do, I'll venture one heave at him. Suffolk. I another.

) > [Aside. J

[Exeunt NORFOLK and SUFFOLK. Wolsey. Your grace has given a precedent of wisdom Above all princes, in committing freely Your scruple to the voice of Christendom: Who can be angry now? what envy reach you? The Spaniard, tied by blood and favour to her, Must now confess, if they have any goodness, The trial just and noble. All the clerks, I mean, the learned ones, in Christian kingdoms, Have their free voices; Rome, the nurse of judgment, Invited by your noble self, hath sent One general tongue unto us, this good man, This just and learned priest, cardinal Campeius; Whom, once more, I present unto your highness. King Henry. And, once more, in mine arms, I bid him welcome, And thank the holy conclave for their loves; They have sent me such a man I would have wish'd for. Campeius. Your grace must needs deserve all strangers' loves, You are so noble: To your highness' hand I tender my commission; by whose virtue, (The court of Rome commanding,)—you, my lord Cardinal of York, are join'd with me their servant, In the impartial judging of this business. King Henry. Two equal men. The queen shall be acquainted Forthwith, for what you come: Where's Gardiner? Wolsey. I know your majesty has always lov'd her So dear in heart not to deny her that A woman of less place might ask by law, Scholars, allow'd freely to argue for her. King Henry. Ay, and the best she shall have; and my favour To him that does best; God forbid else. Cardinal,

KING HENRY VIII.

433

Pr'ythee, call Gardiner to me, my new secretary; I find him a fit fellow. [Exit WOLSEY. Re-enter WOLSEY, with GARDINER, Wolsey. Give me your hand: much joy and favour to you; You, are the king's now. Gardiner. But to be commanded For ever by your grace, whose hand has rais'd me. [Aside. King Henry. Come hither, Gardiner. [They converse apart. Campeius. My lord of York, was not one doctor Pace In this man's place before him? Wolsey. Yes, he was. Campeius. Was he not held a learned man? Wolsey. Yes, surely. Campeius. Believe me, there's an ill opinion spread then Even of yourself, lord cardinal. Wolsey. How! of me! Campeius. They will not stick to say you envied him; And, fearing he would rise, he was so virtuous, Kept him a foreign man 5 still; which so griev'd him, That he ran mad, and died. Wolsey. Heaven's peace be with him! That's Christian care enough: for living murmurers, There's places of rebuke. He was a fool; For he would needg be virtuous: That good fellow, If I command him, follows my appointment; I will have none so near else. Learn this, brother, We live not to be grip'd by meaner persons. King Henry. Deliver this with modesty to the queen. [Exit GAKDINER. The most convenient place that I can think of, For such receipt of learning, is Black-Friars; There ye shall meet about this weighty business: — My Wolsey, see it furnish'd.—O my lord, 5

.'VOL IV.

Out of the king's presence. 2 F

434

KING HENRY VIII.

Would it not grieve an able man, to leave So sweet a bedfellow? But, conscience, conscience,— I 0, 'tis a tender place, and I must leave her. [Exeunt SCENE

III.

An Ante-chamher in the QUEEN'S Apartments.

Enter ANNE BULLEN, and an old LADY. Anne. Not for that neither;—Here's the pang that pinches: His highness having liv'd so long with her: and she So good a lady, that no tongue could ever Pronounce dishonour of her,—by my life, She never knew harm-doing;—O now, after So many courses of the sun enthron'd, Still growing in a majesty and pomp,—the which To leave is a thousand-fold more bitter, than 'Tis sweet at first to acquire,—after this process, To give her the avaunt! it is a pity Would move a monster. Old Lady. Hearts of most hard temper Melt and lament for her. Anne. O! much better, She ne'er had known pomp: though it be temporal, Yet, if that quarrel,6 fortune, do divorce I t from the bearer, 'tis a sufferance, panging; As soul and body severing. Old Lady. Alas, poor lady 1 She's a stranger now again. Anne. So much the more Must pity drop upon her. Verily, I swear, 'tis better to be lowly born, And range with humble livers in content, Than to be perk'd up in a glistering grief, And wear a golden sorrow. Old Lady. Our content 7 Is our best having. 6

Quarreller.

7

Possession,

KING HENRY VIII.

435

Aniie. By my troth, I vow I would not be a queen. Old Lady. Beshrew me, but I would, And so would you, For all this spice of your hypocrisy: You, that have so fair parts of woman on you, Have too a woman's heart; which ever yet Affected eminence, wealth, sovereignty; Which, to say sooth,B are blessings: and which gift, (Saving your mincing) the capacity Of your soft cheveril9 conscience would receive, If you might please to stretch it. Anne. Nay, good troth,— Old Lady. Yes, troth, and troth,—You would not be a queen? Anne. No, not for all the riches under heaven. Old Lady. 'Tis strange, a three-pence bow'd1 would hire me, Old as I am, to queen it: But I pray you, What think you of a duchess? have you limbs To bear that load of title? Anne. No, in truth. Old Lady. Then you are weakly made: Pluck off a little; I would not be a young count in your way. Anne. How you do talk! I swear again, I would not be a queen For all the world. Old Lady. In faith, for little England You'd venture an emballing: I myself Would for Carnarvonshire, although there 'long'd No more to the crown but that. Lo, who comes here? Enter the LORD CHAMBERLAIN. Chamberlain. Good morrow, ladies. What wer't worth to know The secret of your conference? Anne. My good lord, * Truth.

9

Kid-skin.

l

Crook'd.

436

KING HENRY VIII.

Not your demand; it values not your asking: Our mistress9 sorrows we were pitying. Chamberlain. It was a gentle business, and becoming The action of good women: there is hope, All will be well. Anne. Now I pray heaven, amen! Chamberlain. You bear a gentle mind, and heavenly blessings Follow such creatures. That you may, fair lady, Perceive I speak sincerely, and high note's Ta'en of your many virtues, the king's majesty Commends his good opinion to you, and Does purpose honour to you no less flowing Than marchioness of Pembroke; to which title A thousand pound a year, annual support, Out of his grace he adds. Anne. I do not know, What kind of my obedience I should tender; More than my all is nothing: nor my prayers Are not words duly hallow'd, nor my wishes More worth than empty vanities; yet prayers, and wishes Are all I can return. 'Beseech your lordship, Vouchsafe to speak my thanks, and my obedience, As from a blushing handmaid, to his highness; Whose health, and royalty, I pray for. Chamberlain. Lady, I shall not fail to approve the fair conceit2 The king hath of you.—I have perus'd her well; [Aside. Beauty and honour in her are so mingled, That they have caught the king: and who knows yet But from this lady may proceed a gem, To lighten all this isle?—I'll to the king, And say I spoke with you. Anne. My honour'd lord. [Exit LORD CHAMBERLAIN. Old Lady. Why, this it is; see, see! I have been begging sixteen years in court, (Am yet a courtier beggarly,) nor could 2

Opinion,

KING HENRY VIII.

437

Come pat betwixt too early and too late, For any suit of pounds: and you, (O fate!) A very fresh-fish here, (fye, fye upon This compeU'd fortune!) have your mouth fill'd up, Before you open it. Anne. This is strange to me. Old Lady. How tastes it? is it bitter? forty pence, no. There was a lady once, ('tis an old story,) That would not be a queen, that would she not, For all the mud in Egypt:—Have you heard it? Anne. Come, you are pleasant. Old Lady. With your theme, I could O'ermount the lark. The marchioness of Pembroke! A thousand pounds a year! for pure respect; No other obligation: By my life, That promises more thousands: Honour's train Is longer than his foreskirt. By this time, I know, your back will bear a duchess;—Say, Are you not stronger than you were ? Anne. Good lady, Make yourself mirth with your particular fancy, And leave me out on't. 'Would I had no being, If this salute my blood a jot; it faints me, To think what follows. The queen is comfortless, and we forgetful In our long absence: Pray, do not deliver What here you have heard, to her. Old Lady. What do you think me ?

\Exeunt. IV.—A Hall in BLACK-FRIARS. Trumpets, Sennets* and Cornets. Enter two YERGERS, with short silver Wands; next themP two SCRIBES in the habits of Doctors; after tJiem the ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY, alone; after him, the BISHOPS OF LINCOLN, ELY, ROCHESTER, and SAINT ASAPH ; next them, with some small distance, follows a GENTLEMAN bearing the Purse, with the great Seal, and a CardinaVs SCENE

3

Flourish on cornets.

438

KING HENRY VIII.

Hat; then two Priests, hearing each a silver Cross; then a GENTLEMAN-USHER bare-headed, accompanied ivith a SERGEANT-AT-ARMS bearing a silver Mace; then two GENTLEMEN, bearing two great silver Pillars;* after them, side by side, the two Cardinals, WOLSEY and CAMPEIUS / two NOBLEMEN with the sword and Mace. Then enter the KING and QUEEN, and their Trains. The KING takes place under the Cloth of State; the two CARDINALS sit under him as Judges. The QUEEN takes place at some distance from the KING. The BISHOPS place themselves on each side the Court, in manner of a Consistory; beticeen them, the SCRIBES. The LORDS sit next tlie BISHOPS. The CRIER and the rest of the ATTENDANTS stand in convenient order about the Stage. Wolsey. Whilst our commission from Rome is read, Let silence be commanded. King Henry. What's the need ? I t hath already publickly been read, And on all sides the authority allow'd; You may then spare that time. Wolsey. Be't so:—Proceed. Scribe. Say, Henry king of England, come into the court. Crier. Henry King of England, &c. King Henry. Here. Scribe. Say, Katharine queen of England, come into court. Crier. Katharine queen of England, &o. \The QUEEN makes no answer, rises out of her Chair, goes about the Coturt, comes to the KING, and kneels at his feet; then speaks. Queen Katharine. Sir, I desire you do me right and justice; And to bestow your pity on me; for I am a most poor woman, and a stranger, Bom out of your dominions; having here 4

Ensigns of dignity carried before cardinals.

KING HENRY VIII.

439

No judge indifferent, nor no more assurance Of equal friendship and proceeding. Alas, sir, In what have I offended you? what cause Hath my behaviour given to your displeasure, That thus you should proceed to put me off, And take your good grace from me? Heaven witness, I have been to you a true and humble wife, At all times to your will conformable: Ever in fear to kindle your dislike, Yea, subject to your countenance; glad, or sorry, As I saw it inclin'd. When was the hour, I ever contradicted your desire Or made it not mine too? Or which of your friends Have I not strove to love, although I knew He were mine enemy? what friend of mine That had to him deriv'd your anger, did I Continue in my liking? nay, gave notice He was from thence discharged ? Sir, call to mind That I have been your wife, in this obedience, Upward of twenty years, and have been blest With many children by you: If, in the course And process of this time, you can report, And prove it too, against mine honour aught, My bond to wedlock, or my love and duty, Against your sacred person, in God's name, Turn me away; and let the foul'st contempt Shut door upon me, and so give me up To the sharpest kind of justice. Please you, sir, The king your father, was reputed for A prince most prudent, of an excellent And unmatch'd wit and judgment: Ferdinand, My father, king of Spain, was reckoned one The wisest prince, that there had reign'd by many A year before: I t is not to be question'd That they had gathered a wise council to them Of every realm, that did debate this business, Who deem'd our marriage lawful: Wherefore humbly Beseech you, sir, to spare me, till I may Be by my friends in Spain advis'd; whose counsel

440

KING HENEY VIII.

I will implore: If not, i' the name of Heaven, Your pleasure be fulfiU'd! Wolsey. You have here, lady, (And of your choice,) these reverend fathers; men Of singular integrity and learning, Yea, the elect of the land, who are assembled To plead your cause: It shall be therefore bootless,5 That longer you desire the court; as well For your own quiet, as to rectify What is unsettled in the king. Campeius. His grace Hath spoken well and justly: Therefore, madam, It's fit this royal session do proceed; And that, without delay, their arguments Be now produced and heard. Queen Katharine. Lord cardinal,— To you I speak. Wolsey. Your pleasure, madam? Queen Katharine. Sir, I am about to weep; but, thinking that We are a queen, (or long have dream'd so,) certain The daughter of a king, my drops of tears I'll turn to sparks of fire. Wolsey. Be patient yet. Queen Katharine. I will, when you are humble; nay, before, Or God will punish me. I do believe, Induced by potent circumstances, that You are mine enemy; and make my challenge, You shall not be my judge; for it is you Have blown this coal betwixt my lord and me,— Which heaven's dew quench!—Therefore, I say again, I utterly abhor, yea, from my soul, Refuse you for my judge; whom, yet once more, I hold my most malicious foe, and think not At all a friend to truth. Wolsey. I do profess You speak not like yourself; who ever yet 5

Useless.

KING HENHY VIII.

441

Have stood to charity, and displayed the effects Of disposition gentle, and of wisdom Overtopping woman's power. Madani, you do me wrong: I have no spleen against you; nor injustice For you or any: how far I have proceeded, Or how far further shall, is warranted By a commission from the consistory, Yea, the whole consistory of Rome. You charge me, That I have blown this coal: I do deny it: The king is present: if it be known to him, That I gainsay my deed, how may he wound, And worthily, my falsehood? yea, as much As you have done my truth. But if he know That I am free of your report, he knows, I am not of your wrong. Therefore in him It lies, to cure me; and the cure is, to Remove these thoughts from you: The which before His highness shall speak in, I do beseech You, gracious madam, to unthink your speaking, And to say so no more. Queen Katharine. My lord, my lord, I am a simple woman, much too weak To oppose your cunning. You are meek, and humblemouth'd ; You sign your place and calling, in full seeming, With meekness and humility: but your heart Is cramm'd with arrogancy, spleen, and pride. You have by fortune, and his highness' favours, Gone slightly o'er low steps; and now are mounted Where powers are your retainers: and your words, Domesticks to you, serve your will, as't please Yourself pronounce their office. I must tell you, You tender more your person's honour, than Your high profession spiritual: That again I do refuse you for my judge; and here, Before you all, appeal unto the pope, To bring my whole cause 'fore his holiness, And to be judg'd by him. [tihe curt'sies to the KING, and offers to depart.

442

KING HENBY VIII.

Campeius. The queen is obstinate, Stubborn to justice, apt to accuse it, and Disdainful to be t r / d by i t ; 'tis not well* She's going away. King Henry. Call her again. Crier. Katharine, queen of England, come into the court. Griffith. Madam, you are call'd back. Queen Katharine. "What need you note it? pray you, keep your way: When you are call'd, return.—Now the Lord help, They vex me past my patience!—Pray you, pass on: I will not tarry: no, nor ever more, Upon this busiiiess, my appearance make In any of their courts. [Exeunt QUEEN^ GRIFFITH, and her other ATTENDANTS. King Henry. Go thy ways, Kate: That man i' the world who shall report he has A better wife, let him not be trusted, For speaking false in that: Thou art, alone, (If thy rare qualities, sweet gentleness, Thy meekness saint-like, wife-like government,— Obeying in commanding,—and thy parts Sovereign and pious else, could speak thee out,) The queen of earthly queens:—She is noble born; And, like her true nobility, she has Carried herself towards me. Wolsey. Most gracious sir. In humblest manner I require your highness, That it shall please you to declare in hearing Of all these ears, (for where I'm robb'd and bound, There must I be unloos'd; although not there At once and fully satisfied,) whether ever I Did broach this business to.your highness; or Laid any scruple in your way, which might Induce you to the question on't ? or ever Have to you,—but with thanks to Heaven for such A royal lady,—spake one the least word, might

KING HENRY VIII.

443

Be to the prejudice of her present state, Or touch of her good person? King Henry. My lord cardinal, I do excuse you, ;yea, upon mine honour, I free you from't. You are not to be taught That you have many enemies, that know not Why they are so, but, like to village curs, Bark when their fellows do: by some of these The queen is put in anger. You are excus'd: But will you be more justified? you ever Have wish'd the sleeping of this business; never Desird it to be stirr'd; but oft have hinder'd; oft The passages made6toward it:—on my honour, I speak my good lord cardinal to this point, And thus far clear him. Now, what mov'cl me to't,— I will be bold with time and your attention: — Then mark the inducement. Thus it came;—give heed to't. My conscience first receiv'd a tenderness, Scruple, and pain, on certain speeches utter'd By the bishop of Bayonne, then French ambassador; Who had been either sent on the debating A marriage, 'twixt the duke of Orleans and Our daughter Mary: I' the progress of this business, Ere a determinate resolution, he (I mean the bishop) did require a respite; Wherein lie might the king his lord advertise Whether our daughter were legitimate, Respecting this our marriage with the dowager, Sometime our brother's wife. This respite shook The bosom of my conscience, enter'd me, Yea, with a splitting power, and made to tremble The region of my breast; which forc'd such way, That many niaz'd considerings did throng, And press'd in with this cnution. First, methought, I stood not in the smile of heaven; who had Commanded nature, that my lady's womb, If it conceiv'd a male child by me, should 6

Closed, or fastened.

444

KING HENKY VIII.

Do no more offices of life to't than The grave does to the dead: for her male issue Or died where they were made, or shortly after This world had air'd them: Hence I took a thought This was a judgment on me; that my kingdom, "Well worthy the best heir o' the world, should not Be gladded in't by me: Then follows, that I weigh'd the danger which my realms stood in By this my issue's fail; and that gave to me Many a groaning throe. Thus hulling7 in The wild sea of my conscience, I did steer Toward this remedy, whereupon we are Now present here together; that's to say, I meant to rectify my conscience,—which I then did feel full sick, and yet not well,— By all the reverend fathers of the land, And doctors learn'd.—First, I began in private With you, my lord of Lincoln; you remember How under my oppression I did reek,8 When I first mov'd you. Lincoln. Very well, my liege. King Henry. I have spoke long; be pleas'd yourself to say How far you satisfied me. Lincoln. So please your highness, The question did at first so stagger me,— Bearing a state of mighty moment in't, And consequence of dread,—that I committed The daring'st counsel which I had, to doubt; And did entreat your highness to this course, Which you are running here. King Henry. I then mov'd you, My lord of Canterbury; and got your leave To make this present summons:—Unsolicited I left no reverend person in this court; But by particular consent proceeded, Under your hands and seals. Therefore, go on: For no dislike i' the world against the person 7

floating without guidance.

8

Waste, or wear away.

KING HENRY VIII.

445

Of the good queen, but the sharp thorny points Of my alleged reasons, drive this forward: Prove but our marriage lawful, by my life, And kingly dignity, we are contented To wear our mortal state to come, with her, Katharine our queen, before the primest creature That's paragon'd9 o' the world. Campeius. So please your highness, The queen being absent, 'tis a needful fitness That we adjourn this court till further day: Mean while must be an earnest motion Made to the queen, to call back her appeal She intends unto his holiness. [They rise to depart. King Henry. I may perceive, [Aside. These cardinals trifle with me: I abhor This dilatory sloth, and tricks of Rome. My learn'd and well-beloved servant, Cranmer, Pr'ythee return! with thy approach, I know, My comfort comes along. Break up the court: I say, set on. \Exeunt, in manner as they entered. ACT III. SCENE

I.—Palace at

BRIDEWELL. QUEEN'S Apartment.

A Room in tlie

The QUEEN, and some of her Women at Work. Queen Katharine. Take thy lute, wench: my soul grows sad with troubles; Sing, and disperse them, if thou canst: leave working. SONG.

Orpheus with his lute made trees. And the 7iiountain-tops, that freeze, Bow themselves, when he did sing: To his musick, plants, and flowers, Ever sprung; as sun, and showers, There had been a lasting spring. 9

Without compare.

446

KING HENRY VIII.

Every thing that heard him play. Even the billows oftJie sea, Hung their heads, and then lay by. In siveet musick is such art; Killing care, and grief of heart, Fall asleep, or, hearing, die. Enter a GENTLEMAN. Queen Katharine. How now? Gentleman. An't please your grace, the two great cardinals Wait in the presence.1 Queen Katharine. Would they speak with me ? Gentleman. They will'd me say so, madam. Queen Katharine. Pray their graces To come near. [Exit GENTLEMAN.] What can be their1 business With me, a poor weak woman, falTn from favour? I do not like their coming, now I think on't. They should be good men; their affairs as righteous: But all hoods make not monks. Enter

and CAMPEIUS. Wolsey. Peace to your highness! Queen Katharine. Your graces find me here part of a housewife; I would be all, against the worst may happen. What are your pleasures with me, reverend lords? Wolsey. May it please you, noble madam, to withdraw Into your private chamber, we shall give you The ftill cause of our coming. Queen Katharine. Speak it here; There's nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, Deserves a corner: 'Would, all other women Could speak this with as free a soul as I do! My lords, I care not, (so much I am happy Above a number,) if my actions Were tried by every tongue, every eye saw them, WOLSEY

1

Presence chamber.

KING HENRY VIII.

447

Envy and base opinion set against them, I know my life so even: If your business Seek me out, and that way I am wife in, Out with it boldly; Truth loves open dealing. Wolsey. Tanta est ergd te mentis integritas, regina serenissima,— Queen Katharine. O, good my lord, no Latin; I am not such a truant since my coming, As not to know the language I have liv'd in: A strange tongue makes my cause more strange, suspicious; Pray, speak in English: here are some will thank you, If you speak truth, for their poor mistress' sake; Believe me, she has had much wrong: Lord cardinal, The willing'st sin I ever yet committed, May be absolv'd in English. Wolsey. Noble lady, I am sorry, my integrity should breed, (And service to his majesty and you,) So deep suspicion, where all faith was meant. We come not by the way of accusation, To taint that honour every good tongue blesses; Nor to betray you any way to sorrow; You have too much, good lady: but to know How you stand minded in the weighty difference Between the king and you; and to deliver, Like free and honest men, our just opinions, And comforts to your cause. Campeius. Most honoured madam, My lord of York,—out of his noble nature, Zeal and obedience he still bore your grace; Forgetting, like a good man, your late censure Both of his truth and him, (which was too far,)— Offers, as I do, in a sign of peace, His service and his counsel. Qvom Katharine. To betray me. [Aside. My lords, I thank you both for your good wills, Ye speak like honest men, (pray heaven ye prove so!) But how to make you suddenly an answer,

448

KING HENRY VIII.

In such a point of weight, so near mine honour, (More near my life, I fear,) with my weak wit, And to such men of gravity and learning, In truth, I know not. I was set at work Among my maids; full little, Heaven knows, looking Either for such men, or such business. For her sake that I have been, (for I feel The last fit of my greatness,) good your graces, Let me have time, and counsel, for my cause; Alas! I am a woman, friendless, hopeless. Wolsey. Madam, you wrong the king's love with these fears; Your hopes and friends are infinite. Queen Katharine. In England, But little for my profit: Can you think, lords, That any Englishman dare give me counsel? Or be a known friend, 'gainst his highness' pleasure, (Though he be grown so desperate to be honest,) And live a subject? Nay, forsooth, my friends, They that must weigh out 2 my afflictions, They that my trust must grow to, live not here; They are, as all my other comforts, far hence; In mine own country, lords. Campeius. I would, your grace Would leave your griefs, and take my counsel. Queen Katharine. How, sir] Campeius. Put your main cause into the king's protection ; He's loving, and most gracious; 'twill be much Both for your honour better, and your cause; For, if the trial of the law o'ertake you, You'll part away disgrac'd, Wolsey. He tells you rightly. Queen Katharine. Ye tell me what ye wish for both, my ruin: Is this your Christian counsel? out upon ye! Heaven is above all yet; there sits a Judge, That no king can corrupt. 2

Outweigh.

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Campeius. Your rage mistakes us. Queen Katharine. The more shame for ye; holy men I thought ye, Upon my soul, two reverend cardinal virtues: But cardinal sins, and hollow hearts, I fear ye: Mend them for shame, my lords. Is this your comfort? The cordial that ye bring a wretched lady ? A woman lost among ye, laugh'd at, scorn'd? I will not wish ye half my miseries, I have more charity: But say, I warn'd ye; Take heed, for heaven's sake, take heed, lest at once The burden of my sorrows fall upon ye. Wolsey. Madam, this is a mere distraction; You turn the good we offer into envy. Queen Katharine. Ye turn me into nothing: Woe upon ye, And all such false professors! Would ye have me (If you have any justice, any pity; If ye be any thing but churchmen's habits,) Put my sick cause into his hands that hates me? Alas! he has banish'd me his bed already; His love, too, long ago: I am old, my lords, And all the fellowship I hold now with him Is only my obedience. What can happen To me, above this wretchedness? all your studies Make me a curse like this. Campeius. Your fears are worse. Queen Katharine. Have I lived thus long—(let me speak myself, Since virtue finds no friends,)—a wife, a true one? A woman, (I dare say, without vain-glory,) Never yet branded with suspicion? Have I with all my full affections Still met the king? lovd him next heaven? obey d him? Been, out of fondness, superstitious to him ? Almost forgot my prayers to content him? And am I thus rewarded? 'tis not well, lords. Bring me a constant woman to her husband, One that ne'er dream'd a joy beyond his pleasure; VOL. iv. 2 a

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And to that woman, when she has done most-, Yet will I add an honour,—a great patience. Wolsey. Madam, you wander from the good we aim at. Queen Katharine. My lord, I dare not make myself so guilty, To give up willingly that noble title Your master wed me to; nothing but death Shall e'er divorce my dignities. Wolsey. 'Pray* he a r me. Queen Katharine. 'Would I had never trod this English earth, Or felt the flatteries that grow upon it! Ye have angels' faces, but Heaven knows your hearts. What will become of me now, wretched lady ? I am the most unhappy woman living.— Alas! poor wenches, where are now your fortunes % [To her Women. Shipwreck'd upon a kingdom, where no pity, No friends, no hope; no kindred weep for me, Almost no grave allow'd me:—Like the lily, That once was mistress of the field, and flourish'd, I'll hang my head and perish. Wolsey. If your grace Could but be brought to know, our ends are honest, You'd feel more comfort: why should we, good lady, Upon what cause, wrong you ? alas! our places, The way of our profession is against it; We are to cure such sorrows, not to sow them. For goodness' sake, consider what you do; How you may hurt yourself, ay, utterly Grow from the king's acquaintance, by this carriage. The hearts of princes kiss obedience, So much they love it; but, to stubborn spirits, They swell, and grow as terrible as storms. I know, you have a gentle, noble temper, A soul as even as a calm: Pray, think us Those we profess, peace-makers, friends, and servants. Campeius. Madam, you'll find it so. You wrong your virtues

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With these weak women's fears. A noble spirit, As yours was put into you, ever casts Such doubts, as false coin, from it. The king loves you; Beware you lose it not: For us, if you please To trust us in your business, we are ready To use our utmost studies in your service. Queen Katharine. Do what ye will, my lords: And pray, forgive me, If I have us'd3 myself unmannerly; You know, I am a woman, lacking wit To make a seemly answer to such persons. Pray, do my service to his majesty: He has my heart yet; and shall have my prayers, While I shall have my life. Come, reverend fathers, Bestow your counsels on me: she now begs, That little thought, when she set footing here, She should have bought her dignities so dear. [Exeunt. IL—Ante-chamber to the KING'S Apartment. Enter the DUKE OF NORFOLK, tlie DUKE OF SUFFOLK, the SCENE

EARL OF SURREY, and the LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

Norfolk. If you will now unite in your complaints, And force4 them with a constancy, the cardinal Cannot stand under them : If you omit The offer of this time, I cannot promise, But that you shall sustain more new disgraces, With these you bear already. Surrey. I am joyful To meet the least occasion, that may give me Remembrance of my father-in-law, the duke, To be reveng'd on him, Suffolk. Which of the peers Have uncontemn'd gone by him, or at least Strangely neglected? when did he regard The stamp of nobleness in any person, Out of himself? Chamberlain. My lords, you speak your pleasures: 3

Behaved.

4

Enforce.

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KING HENRY VIII.

What he deserves of you and me, I know; What we can do to him, (though now the time Gives way to us,) I much fear. If you cannot Bar his access to the king, never attempt Any thing on him; for he hath a witchcraft Over the king in his tongue. Norfolk. 0, fear him not; His spell in that is out: the king hath found Matter against him, that for ever mars The honey of his languaga No, he's settled, Not to come off, in his displeasure. Surrey. Sir, I should be glad to hear such news as this Once every hour. Norfolk. Believe it, this is true. In the divorce, his contrary proceedings Are all unfolded; wherein he appears As I could wish mine enemy. Surrey. How came His practices to light? Suffolk. Most strangely. Surrey. O, how, how ? Suffolk. The cardinal's letter to the pope miscarried, And came to the eye o' the king: wherein was read. How that the cardinal did entreat his holiness To stay the judgment o' the divorce: For if It did take place, / do, quoth he, perceive My king is tangled in affection to A creature of the queen's, lady Anne Bullen. Surrey. Has the king this? Suffolk. Believe it. Surrey. Will this work? Chamberlain. The king in this perceives him how he coasts, And hedges, his own way. But in this point All his tricks founder, and he brings his physic After his patient's death: the king already Hath married the fair lady. Surrey. 'Would he had!

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Suffolk. May you be happy in your wish, my lord! For, I profess, you have it. Surrey. Now all nay joy 5 Trace the conjunction! Suffolk. My amen to't! Norfolk. All men's. Suffolk. There's order given for her coronation: Marry, this is yet but young, and may be left To some ears unrecounted.—But, my lords, She is a gallant creature, and complete In mind and feature: I persuade me, from her Will fall some blessing to this land, which shall In it be memoriz'd.6 Surrey. But, will the king Digest this letter of the cardinal's? The Lord forbid! Norfolk. Marry, amen! Suffolk. No, no; There be more wasps that buz about his nose, Will make this sting the sooner. Cardinal Campeius Is stolen away to Rome; hath ta'en no leave; Has left the cause o' the king unhandled; and Is posted, as the agent of our cardinal, To second all his plot. I do assure you, The king ciy'd, ha! at this. Chamberlain. Now, heaven incense him, And let him cry, ha, louder! Norfolk. But, my lord, When returns Cranmer? Suffolk. He is return'd, in his opinions; which Have satisfied the king for his divorce, Together with all famous colleges Almost in Christendom: shortly, I believe, His second marriage shall be published, and Her coronation. Katharine no more Shall be call'd queen; but princess-dowager, And widow to prince Arthur. Norfolk. This same Craniner's 5

Follow.

6

Made memorable.

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KING HENRY VIII.

A worthy fellow, and hath ta'en much pain In the king's business. Suffolk. He has; and we shall see him For it3 an archbishop. Norfolk. So I hear. Suffolk. 'Tis so. The cardinal— Enter WOLSEY and CROMWELL. Norfolk. Observe, observe, he's moody. Wolsey. The packet, Cromwell, gave it you the king? Cromwell. To his own hand, in his bed-chamber. Wolsey. Look'd he o' the inside of the paper ? Cromwell. Presently He did unseal them: and the first he view'd, He did it with a serious mind; a heed Was in his countenance: You, he bade Attend him here this morning. Wolsey. Is he ready To come abroad? Cromwell. I think, by this he is. Wolsey. Leave me a while.— [Exit CROMWELL. It shall be to the duchess of Alencon, The French king's sister: he shall marry her.— Anne Bullen ! No; I'll no Anne Bullens for him: There is more in it than fair visage.—Bullen! No, we'll no Bullens.—Speedily I wish To hear from Rome.—The marchioness of Pembroke! Norfolk. He's discontented. Suffolk. May be, he hears the king Does whet his anger to him. Surrey. Sharp enough, Lord, for thy justice! Wolsey. The late queen's gentlewoman; a knight's daughter, To be her mistress' mistress! the queen's queen!— This candle barns not clear: 'tis I must snuff it; Then, out it goes.—What though I know her virtuous, And well-deserving? yet I know her for

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A spleeny Lutheran; and not wholesome to Our cause, that she should lie i' the bosom of Our hard-rul'd king. Again, there is sprung up An heretick, an arch one, Cranmer; one Hath crawl'd into the favour of the king, And is his oracle. Norfolk. He is vex'd at something. Suffolk. I would, 'twere something that would fret the string, The master-cord of his heart! Enter the KING reading a Schedule; and LOVELL. Suffolk. The king, the king. King Henry. What piles of wealth hath he accumulated To his own portion! and what expence by the hour Seems to flow from him! How, i' the name of thrift, Does he rake this together?—Now, my lords; Saw you the cardinal? Norfolk. My lord, we have Stood here observing him: Some strange commotion Is in his brain: he bites his lip, and starts; Stops on a sudden, looks upon the ground, Then, lays his finger on his temple; straight, Springs out into fast gait; 7 then, stops again, Strikes his breast hard; and anon, he casts His eye against the moon: in most strange postures We have seen him set himself. King Henry. It may well be; There is a mutiny in his mind. This morning Papers of state he sent me to peruse, As I i*equir'd; and wot 8 you, what I found There; on my conscience, put unwittingly? Forsooth, an inventory, thus importing,— The several parcels of his plate, his treasure, Rich stuffs and ornaments of household; which I find at such proud rate, that it outspeaks Possession of a subject. Norfolk. It's heaven's will; 7

Steps.

* Know.

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KING HENRY VIII.

Some spirit put this paper in the packet, To bless your eye withal. King Henry. If we did think His contemplation were above the earth, And fix'd on spiritual object, he should still, Dwell in his musings: but, I am afraid, His thinkings are below the moon, not worth His serious considering. [He takes his seat and whispers LOVELL, who goes to WOLSEY. Wolsey. Heaven forgive me! Ever God bless your highness! King Henry. Good, my lord; You are fall of heavenly stuff, and bear the inventory Of your best graces in your mind; the which You were now running o'er; you have scarce time To steal from spiritual leisure a brief span; To keep your earthly audit: Sure, in that I deem you an ill husband; and am glad To have you therein my companion, Wolsey. Sir, For holy offices I have a time; a time To think upon the part of business, which I bear i' the state; and nature does require Her times of preservation, which, perforce, I, her frail son, amongst my brethren mortal, Must give my tendance to. King Henry. You have said well. Wolsey. And ever may your highness yoke together As I will lend you cause, my doing well With my well saying! King Henry. 'Tis well said again: And 'tis a kind of good deed, to say well: And yet words are no deeds. My father lov'd you; He said, he did; and with his deed did crown His word upon you. Since I had my office, I have kept you next my heart; have not alone Employ'd you where high profits might come home, But par d my present havings, to bestow My bounties upon you.

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Wolsey. What should this mean ? Surrey. Good heaven increase this business! [Aside. King Henry. Have I not made you The prime man of the state? I pray you, tell me, If what I now pronounce, you have found true: And, if you may confess it, say withal, If you are bound to us, or no. What say you ? Wolsey. My sovereign, I confess, your royal graces, Shower'd on me daily, have been more than could My studied purposes requite; which went Beyond all men's endeavours:—my endeavours Have ever come too short of my desires, Yet, fil'd with my abilities: Mine own ends Have been mine so, that evermore they pointed To the good of your most sacred person, and The profit of the state. For your great graces Heap'd upon me, poor undeserver, I Can nothing render but allegiant thanks; My prayers to heaven for you; my loyalty Which ever has, and ever shall be growing, Till death, that winter, kill it. King Henry. Fairly answer'd; A loyal and obedient subject is Therein illustrated: The honour of it Does pay the act of it; as i' the contrary, The foulness is the punishment. I presume, That, as my hand has open'd bounty to you, My heart dropp'd love, my power rain'd honour, more On you, than any; so your hand, and heart, Your brain, and every function of your power, Should, notwithstanding that your bond of duty, As 'twere in love's particular, be more To me, your friend, than any. Wolsey. I do profess, That for your highness' good I ever laboured More than mine own; that am, have, and will be, Though all the world should crack their duty to you, And throw it from their soul: though perils did Abound, as thick as thought could make them, and

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KING HENRY VIII.

Appear in forms more horrid; yet my duty, As doth a rock against the chiding flood, Should the approach of this wild river break, And stand unshaken yours. King Henry. 'Tis nobly spoken: Take notice, lords, he has a loyal breast, For you have seen him open't.—Read o'er this; [Giving him Papers. And, after, this: and then to breakfast, with What appetite you have. [Exit KING, frowning upon CARDINAL WOLSEY : the NOBLES throng after him, smiling, and whispering. Wolsey. What should this mean? "What sudden anger's this? how have I reap'd it? He parted frowning from me, as if ruin Leap'd from his eyes: So looks the chafed lion Upon the daring huntsman that has gall'd him; Then makes him nothing. I must read this paper; I fear, the story of his anger.—5Tis so; This paper has undone me:—'Tis the account Of all that world of wealth I have drawn together For mine own ends; indeed, to gain the popedom, And fee my friends in Rome. O negligence, Fit for a fool to fall by! What cross devil Made me put this main secret in the packet I sent the king? Is there no way to cure this? No new device to beat this from his brains? I know, 'twill stir him strongly; yet I know A way, if it take right, in spite of fortune Will bring me off again. What's this—To the Pope ? The letter, as I live, with all the business I writ to his holiness. Nay then, farewell! I have touch'd the highest point of all my greatness! And, from that full meridian of my glory, I haste now to my setting: I shall fall Like a bright exhalation in the evening, And no man see me more.

KING HENRY VIIL

459

Re-enter the DUKES OF NORFOLK and SUFFOLK, t/ie EARL OF SURREY, and the LORD CHAMBERLAIN.

Norfolk. Hear the king's pleasure, cardinal; who commands you To render up the great seal presently Into our hands; and to confine yourself To Asher-House,1 my lord of Winchester's, Till you hear further from his highness. Wolsey. Stay, Where's your commission, lords? words cannot carry Authority so weighty. Suffolk. Who dare cross them ? Bearing the king's will from his mouth expressly ? Wolsey. Till I find more than will, or words, to do it, (I mean your malice,) know, officious lords, I dare, and must deny it, Now I feel Of what coarse metal ye are moulded—envy How eagerly ye follow my disgraces, As if it fed ye! and how sleek and wanton Ye appear in every thing may bring my ruin! Follow your envious courses, men of malice; You have Christian warrant for them, and, no doubt, In time will find their fit rewards. That seal, You ask with such a violence, the king, (Mine and your master,) with his own hand gave me: Bade me enjoy it, with the place and honours, During my life; and, to confirm his goodness, Tied it by letters patents: Now, who'll take it ? Surrey. The king, that gave it. Wolsey. It must be himself then. Surrey. Thou art a proud traitor, priest. Wolsey. Proud lord, thou liest Within these forty hours, Surrey durst better Have burnt that tongue, than said so. Surrey. Thy ambition Thou scarlet sin, robb'd this bewailing land Of noble Buckingham, my father-in-law: 1

Esher, in Surrey.

460

KING HENRY VIIL

The heads of all thy brother cardinals, (With thee, and all thy best parts bound together^ Weigh'd not a hair of his. Plague of your policy! You sent me deputy for Ireland; Far from his succour, from the king, from all That might have mercy on the fault thou gav'st him; Whilst your great goodness, out of holy pity, Absolved hiTTi with an axe. Wolsey.

This, and all else

This talking lord can lay upon my credit, I answer, is most false. The duke by law Found his deserts: how innocent I was From any private malice in his end, His noble jury and foul cause can witness. If I lov'd many words, lord, I should tell you, You have as little honesty as honour; That I, in the way of loyalty and truth Toward the king, my ever royal master, Dare mate 2 a sounder man than Surrey can be, And all that love his follies. Surrey. By my soul, Your long coat, priest, protects you; thou shouldst feel My sword i' the life-blood of thee else.—My lords, Can ye endure to hear this arrogance ? And from this fellow? If we live thus tamely, To be thus jaded 3 by a piece of scarlet, Farewell nobility; let his grace go forward, And dare us with his cap, like larks.4 Wolsey.

All goodness

Is poison to thy stomach. Surrey. Yes, that goodness Of gleaning all the land's wealth into one, Into your own hands, cardinal, by extortion; The goodness of your intercepted packets, You writ to the pope, against the king; your goodness, Since you provoke me, shall be most notorious.— 2

3 Equal. Ridden down. A cardinal's hat is scarlet, and the method of daring larks is by small mirrors on scarlet cloth. 4

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461

My lord of Norfolk,—as you are truly noble, As you respect the common good, the state Of our despis'd nobility, our issues, Who, if he live, will scarce be gentlemen,— Produce the grand sum of his sins, the articles Collected from his life:—I'll startle you Worse than the sacring bell, lord cardinal. Wolsey. How much, methinks, I could despise this man, But that I am bound in charity against it! Norfolk. Those articles, my lord, are in the king's hand: But, thus much, they are foul ones. Wolsey. So much fairer, And spotless, shall mine innocence arise, When the king knows my truth. Surrey. This cannot save you: I thank my memory, I yet remember Some of these articles; and out they shall. Now, if you can blush, and cry guilty, cardinal, You'll show a little honesty. Wolsey. Speak on, sir: I dare your worst objections: If I blush It is, to see a nobleman want manners. Surrey. I'd rather want those, than my head. Have at you. First, that, without the king's assent, or knowledge, You wrought to be a legate; by which power You maim'd the jurisdiction of all bishops. Norfolk. Then, that, in all you writ to Rome, or else To foreign princes, Ego et Rex oneus Was still inscrib'd; in which you brought the king To be your servant. Suffolk. Then, that without the knowledge Either of king or council, when you went Ambassador to the emperor, you made bold To carry into Flanders the great seal. Surrey. Item, you sent a large commission To Gregory de Cassalis, to conclude,

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KING HENRY VIIL

Without the king's will, or the state's allowance, A league between his highness and Ferrara. Suffolk. That, out of mere ambition, you have caus'd Your holy hat to be stamp'd on the king's coin. Surrey. Then, that you have sent innumerable substance, (By what means got, I leave to your own conscience,) To furnish Rome, and to prepare the ways You have for dignities; to the mere 5 undoing Of all the kingdom. Many jnore there are; Which, since they are of you, and odious, I will not taint my mouth with. Chamberlain. O my lord, Press not a falling man too far; 'tis virtue: His faults lie open to the laws; let them, Not you, correct him. My heart weeps to see him So little of his great self. Swrrey. I forgive him, Suffolk. Lord cardinal, the king's farther pleasure is,— Because all those things, you have done of late By your power legatine within this kingdom, Fall into the compass of a prcemuniref— That therefore such a writ be sued against you; To forfeit all your goods, lands, tenements, Chattels, and whatsoever, and to be Out of the king's protection:—This is my charge. Norfolk. And so we'll leave you to your meditations How to live better. For your stubborn answer, About the giving back the great seal to us, The king shall know it, and no doubt, shall thank you. So fare you well, my little good lord cardinal. [Exeunt all but WOLSEY. Wolsey. So farewell to the little good you bear me. Farewell, a long farewell, to all my greatness! This is the state of man; to-day he puts forth The tender leaves of hope, to-morrow blossoms, And bears his blushing honours thick upon him: The third day, comes a frost, a killing frost 6

Absolute.

6

A writ incurring.a penalty.

KING HENRY V1IL

463

And,—when he thinks, good easy man, full surely His greatness is a ripening,—nips his root, And then he falls, as I do. I have ventured, Like little wanton boys that swim on bladders, This many summers in a sea of glory; But far beyond my depth: my high-blown pride At length broke under me; and now has left me, Weary, and old with service, to the mercy Of a rude stream, that must for ever hide me. Vain pomp, and glory of this world, I hate ye; I feel my heart new open'd: O, how wretched Is that poor man, that hangs on princes' favours! There is, betwixt that smile we would aspire to, That sweet aspect of princes, and their ruin, More pangs and fears than wars or women have; And when he falls, he falls like Lucifer, Never to hope again.— Enter

amazedly. Why, how now, Cromwell? Cromwell. I have no power to speak, sir. Wolsey. What, amaz'd At my misfortunes? can thy spirit wonder, A great man should decline? Nay, an you weep, I am fallen indeed. Cromwell. How does your grace? Wolsey. Why, well; Never so truly happy, my good Cromwell. I know myself now; and I feel within me A peace above all earthly dignities, A still and quiet conscience. The king has cur d me, 1 humbly thank his grace; and from these shoulders, These ruin'd pillars, out of pity, taken A load would sink a navy, too much honour; O, 'tis a burden, Cromwell, 'tis a burden, Too heavy for a man that hopes for heaven. Cromwell. I am glad, your grace has made that right use of it. Wolsey. I hope, I have: I am able now, methinks, CROMWELL

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KING HENEY VIIL

(Out of a fortitude of soul I feel,) To endure more miseries, and greater far, Than my weak-hearted enemies dare offer. What news abroad? Cromwdl. The heaviest and the worst, Is your displeasure with the king. Wolsey. God bless him! Cromwell. The next is, that sir Thomas More is chosen Lord chancellor in your place. Wolsey. That's somewhat sudden: But he's a learned man. May he continue Long in his highness' favour, and do justice For truth's sake, and his conscience; that his bones, When he has run his course, and sleeps in blessings, May have a tomb of orphans' tears 7 wept on 'em! What more? Cromwell. That Cranmer is return'd with welcome, Install'd lord archbishop of Canterbury. Wolsey. That's news indeed. Cromwell. Last, that the lady Anne, Whom the king hath in secrecy long married, This day was view'd in open, as his queen, Going to chapel; and the voice is now Only about her coronation. Wolsey. There was the weight that pull'd me down. O Cromwell, The king has gone beyond me; all my glories In that one woman I have lost for ever: No sim shall ever usher forth mine honours, Or gild again the noble troops that waited Upon my smiles. Go, get thee from me, Cromwell, I am a poor fallen man, unworthy now To be thy lord and master: Seek the king; That sun, I pray, may never set! I have told him What, and how true thou art: he will advance thee; Some little memory of me will stir him (I know his noble nature,) not to let Thy hopeful service perish too": Good Cromwell, 7

The chancellor is the guardian of orphans.

KING HENRY VIII.

465

Neglect him not; make use 8 now, and provide For thine own future safety. Cromwell. 0, my lord, Must I then leave you? Must I needs forego So good, so noble, and so true a master? Bear witness, all, that have not hearts of iron, With what a sorrow Cromwell leaves his lord.— The king shall have my service; but my prayers For ever, and for ever, shall be yours. Wolsey. Cromwell, I did not think to shed a tear In all my miseries; but thou hast forc'd me Out of thy honest truth to play the woman. Let's dry our eyes: and thus far hear me, Cromwell; And,—when I am forgotten, as I shall be; And sleep in dull cold marble, where no mention Of me more must be heard of,—say, I taught thee, Say, Wolsey, that once trod the ways of glory, And sounded all the depths and shoals of honour,— Found thee a way, out of his wreck, to rise in; A sure and safe one, though thy master miss'd it. Mark but my fall, and that that ruin'd me. Cromwell, I charge thee, fling away ambition; By that sin fell the angels; how can man then, The image of his Maker, hope to win by't? Love thyself last; cherish those hearts that hate thee; Corruption wins not more than honesty. Still in thy right hand carry gentle peace, To silence envious tongues. Be just, and fear not; Let all the ends thou aim'st at, be thy country's, Thy God's, and truth's; then if thou fall'st, 0 Cromwell, Thou fall'st a blessed martyr. Serve the king, And,—Pr'ythee lead me in: There take an inventory of all T have, To the last penny: 'tis the king's: my robe, And my integrity to heaven, is all I dare now call mine own. 0 Cromwell, Cromwell^ Had I but serv'd my God with half the zeal 8

VOL. IV.

Interest. 2 H

466

KING HENHY VIII.

I serv'd my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies. Cromwell. Good sir, have patience. Wolsey. So I have. Farewell, The hopes of court! my hopes in heaven do dwell.

[Exeunt ACT IV. SCENE

I.—A Street in WESTMINSTER.

Enter two GENTLEMEN, meeting. 1 Gentleman. You are well met once again. 2 Gentleman. And so are you. 1 Gentleman. You come to take your stand here, and behold The lady Anne pass from her coronation? 2 Gentleman. Tis all my business. At our last encounter, The duke of Buckingham came from his trial. 1 Gentleman. 'Tis very true: but that time offered sorrow; This general joy. 2 Gentleman. 'Tis well: the citizens, I am sure, have shown at full their royal minds As, let them have their rights, they are ever forward In celebration of this day with shows, Pageants, and sights of honour. 1 Gentleman. Never greater, Nor, I'll assure you, better taken, sir. 2 Gentleman. May I be bold to ask what that contains, That paper in your hand? 1 Gentleman. Yes; 'tis the list Of those that claim their offices this day, By custom of the coronation. The duke of Suffolk is the first, and claims To be high steward; next, the duke of Norfolk, He to be earl marshal j you may read the rest.

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2 Gentleman. I thank you, sir; had I not known those customs, I should have been beholden to your paper. But, I beseech you, what becomes of Katharine, The princess-dowager? how goes her business? 1 Gentleman. That I can tell you too. The archbishop Of Canterbury, accompanied with other Learned and reverend fathers of his order, Held a late court at Dunstable, six miles off From Ampthill, where the princess lay; to which She oft was cited by them, but appeared not: And, to be short, for not appearance, and The king's late scruple, by the main assent Of all these learned men she was divorc'd, And the late marriage made of none effect: Since which, she was removed to Kimbolton, "Where she remains now, sick. 2 Gentleman. Alas, good lady!— \Trumpets. The trumpets sound: stand close, the queen is coming. THE ORDER OF THE PROCESSION.

1. 2. 3. 4. 5.

6.

A lively flourish of Trumpets; then enter, Two Judges. Lord Chancellor, with the purse and mace before him. Choristers singing. [Musick. Mayor of London, bearing the mace. Then Garter, in his coat of arms, and, on his head, a gilt copper crown. Marquis Dorset, bearing a scepter of gold, on his head a demi-coronal of gold. With him, the Earl of Surrey, bearing the rod of silver, with the dove, crowned with an earVs coronet. Collars of SS. Duke of Suffolk, in his robe of estate, his coronet on his head, bearing a long white ivand, as high steward. With him the Duke of Norfolk, with the rod of marshalship, a coronet on his head. Collars

ofSS.

468

KING HENRY VIII.

7. A canopy borne by four of the Cinque-ports; under it, the Queen in Iwr robe; in her hair, ricJily adorned with pearl, crowned. On each side of her9 the Bishops of London and Winchester. 8. The old Duchess of Norfolk, in a coronal of gold, wrought withfloioers, bearing the Queens train. 9. Certain Ladies or Countesses, with plain circles of gold without flowers. 2 Gentleman. A royal train, believe me,—These I know;— Who's that, that bears the scepter? 1 Gentleman. Marquis Dorset: And that the earl of Surrey, with the rod. 2 Gentleman. A bold brave gentleman: And that should be The duke of Suffolk. 1 Gentleman. 'Tis the same; high-steward. 2 Gentleman. And that my lord of Norfolk? 1 Gentleman. Yes. 2 Gentleman. Heaven bless thee! [Looking on the QUEEN. Thou hast the sweetest face I ever look'd on. Sir, as I have a soul, she is an angel; Our king has all the Indies in his arms, I cannot blame his conscience. 1 Gentleman. They, that bear The cloth of honour over her, are four barons Of the Cinque-ports. 2 Gentleman. Those men are happy; and so are all, are near her. I take it, she that carries up the train, Is that old noble lady, duchess of Norfolk. 1 Gentleman. It is; and all the rest are countesses. 2 Gentleman. Their coronets say so. These are stars indeed. [Exit Procession, with a great flourish of Trumpets.

KING HENRY VIII.

469

Enter a Third GENTLEMAN. Heaven save you, sir! where have you been broiling ? 3 Gentleman. Among the crowd i' the abbey; where a finger Could not be wedg'd in more; and I am stifled With the mere rankness of their joy. 2 Gentleman. You saw The ceremony] 3 Gentleman. That I did. 1 Gentleman. How was it? 3 Gentleman. Well worth the seeing. 2 Gentleman. Good sir, speak it to us. 3 Gentleman. As well as I am able. The rich stream Of lords, and ladies, having brought the queen To a prepar'd place in the choir, fell off A distance from her; while her grace sat down To rest a while, some half an hour, or so, In a rich chair of state, opposing freely The beauty of her person to the people. Believe me, sir, she is the goodliest woman That ever sat by man: which when the people Had the full view of, such a noise arose As the shrouds make at sea in a stiff tempest, As loud, and to as many tunes: hats, cloaks, (Doublets I think,) flew up; and had their faces Been lose, this day they had been lost. Such joy I never saw before. No man living Could say, This is my wife, there; all were woven So strangely in one piece. 2 Gentleman. But, 'pray, what follow'cl? 3 Gentleman. At length her grace rose, and with modest paces Came to the altar; where she kneel'd, aod, saint-like, Cast her fair eyes to heaven, and pray'd devoutly. Then rose again, and bow'd her to the people: When by the archbishop of Canterbury She had all the royal makings of a queen; As holy oil, Edward Confessor's crown,

470

KING HENRY VIII.

The rod, and bird of peace, and all such emblems Laid nobly on her: which performed, the choir, With all the choicest musick of the kingdom, Together sung Te Deum, So she parted, And with the same full state pac'd back again To York-place, where the feast is held. 1 Gentleman. Sir, you Must no more call it York-place, that is past: For, since the cardinal fell, that title's lost; 'Tis now the king's, and call'd—Whitehall. 3 Gentleman. I know it; But 'tis so lately alter'd, that the old name Is fresh about me. 2 Gentleman. What two reverend bishops Were those that went on each side of the queen ? 3 Gentleman. Stokesly and Gardiner; the one, of Winchester, (Newly preferr'd from the king's secretary,) The other, London. 2 Gentleman. He of Winchester Is held no great good lover of the archbishop's, The virtuous Cranmer. 3 Gentleman. All the land knows that: However, yet there's no great breach; when it comes Cranmer will find a friend will not shrink from him. 2 Gentleman. Who may that be, I pray you? 3 Gentleman. Thomas Cromwell; A man in much esteem with the king, and truly A worthy friend.—The king Has made him master o' the jewel-house, And one, already, of the privy-council. 2 Gentleman. He will deserve more. 3 Gentleman. Yes, without all doubt. Come, gentlemen, ye shall go my way, which Is to the court, and there ye shall be my guests; Something I can command. As I walk thither, I'll tell ye more. Both. You may command us, sir. [Exeunt.

KING HENRY VIII.

471

SCENE II.—KJMBOLTON.

Enter

KATHARINE,

Dowager, sick; led between GRIFFITH and

PATIENCE.

Griffith. How does your grace? Katharine. 0, Griffith, sick to death: My legs, like loaden branches, bow to the earth, Willing to leave their burden: Reach a chair;— So,—now methinks, I feel a little ease. Didst thou not tell me, Griffith, as thou led'st me, That the great child of honour, cardinal Wolsey, Was dead? Griffith. Yes, madam; but I think, your grace, Out of the pain you suffer'd, gave no ear to't. Katharine. Pr ythee, good Griffith, tell me how he died: If well, he stepp'd before me, happily,9 For my example. Griffith. Well, the voice goes, madam: For after the stout earl Northumberland Arrested him at York, and brought him forward (As a man sorely tainted,) to his answer, He fell sick suddenly, and grew so ill He could not sit his mule. Katharine. Alas! poor man! Griffith. At last, with easy roads, he came to Leicester, Lodg'd in the abbey; where the reverend abbot, With all his convent, honourably receiv'd him; To whom he gave these words,—0, father abbot, An old man, broken with the storms of state, Is come to lay his weary bones among ye; Give him a little earth for charity ! So went to bed: where eagerly his sickness Pursu'd him still; and three nights after this, About the hour of eight, (which he himself Foretold should be his last,) full of repentance, Continual meditations, tears, and sorrows, He gave his honours to the world again, His blessed part to heaven, and slept in peace. 1

Haply.

472

KING HENRY VIII.

Katharine. So may he rest; his faults lie gently on him! Yet thus far, Griffith, give me leave to speak him, And yet with charity,—He was a man Of an unbounded stomach, ever ranking Himself with princes; one that by suggestion Ty'd all the kingdom: simony was fair play; His own opinion was his law; I' the presence1 He would say untruths; and be ever double Both in his words and meaning: He was never, But where he meant to ruin, pitiful: His promises were, as he then was, mighty; But his performance, as he is now, nothing. Griffith. Noble madam, Men's evil manners live in brass; their virtues We write in water. May it please your highness To hear me speak his good now? Katharine. Yes, good Griffith; I were malicious else. Griffith. This cardinal, Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly Was fashion'd to much honour. From his cradle, He was a scholar, and a ripe and good one; Exceeding wise, fair spoken, and persuading: Lofty, and sour, to them that lov'd him not; But, to those men that sought him, sweet as summer. And though he were unsatisfied in getting (Which was a sin,) yet in bestowing, madam, He was most princely: Ever witness for him Those twins of learning, that he raised in you, Ipswich, and Oxford! one2 of which fell with him, Unwilling to outlive the good that did i t ; The other, though unfinish'd, yet so famous, So excellent in art, and still so rising, That Christendom shall ever speak his virtue. His overthrow heap'd happiness upon him; For then, and not till then, he felt himself, And found the blessedness of being little: 1

Of the king.

2 ipswich#

KING HENRY VIII.

473

And, to add greater honours to his age Than man could give him, he died, fearing God. Katharine. After my death I wish no other herald, No other speaker of my living actions, To keep mine honour from corruption, But such an honest chronicler as Griffith. Whom I most hated living, thou hast made me, With thy religious truth, and modesty, Now in his ashes honour: Peace be with him!— Patience, be near me still; and set me lower: I have not long to trouble thee.—Good Griffith, Cause the musicians play me that sad note I nam?d my knell, whilst I sit meditating On that celestial harmony I go to. Sad and solemn Mustek. Griffith. She is asleep: Good wench, let's sit down quiet, For fear we wake her;—Softly, gentle Patience. Tlie Vision. Enter, solemnly tripping one after anotlier, six Personages, clad in ivhite robes, wearing on their Jieads garlands of bays and golden vizards on their faces : branches of bays or palm in their hands. Tliey first congee unto her, then dance; and, at certain cluing es, thefirsttwo hold a spare garland over her head; at which, the other four make reverend courtesies; then the two that held the garland, deliver the same to the ot/ier next two, who observe the same order in their changes, and holding the garland over her head: which done, they deliver the same garland to the last two, who likewise observe the same order: at which, (as it were by inspiration,) she makes in her sleep signs of rejoicing, and holdeth up her hands to heaven: and so in their dancing they vanish, carrying tJw garland with tliem. The musick continues. Katharine. Spirits of peace, where are ye ? Are ye all gone? And leave me here in wretchedness behind ye? Griffith. Madam, we are here.

474

KING HENRY VIII.

Katharine. I t is not you I call for: Saw ye none enter, since I slept? Griffith. None, madam. Katharine. No? Saw you not, even now, a blessed troop Invite me to a banquet; whose bright faces Cast thousand beams upon me, like the sun? They promis'd me eternal happiness; And brought me garlands, Griffith, which I feel I am not worthy yet to wear: I shall, Assuredly. Griffith. I am most joyful, madam, such good dreams Possess your fancy. Katharine. Bid the musick leave, They are harsh and heavy to me. [Musick ceases. Patience. Do you note, How much her grace is alter'd on the sudden? How long her face is drawn ? How pale she looks, And of an earthy cold? Mark you her eyes? Griffith. She is going, wench; pray, pray. Patience. Heaven comfort her! Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. An't like your grace,— Katharine. You are a saucy fellow: Deserve we no more reverence? Griffith. You are to blame, Knowing, she will not lose her wonted greatness, To use so rude behaviour: go to, kneel. Messenger. I humbly do entreat your highness' pardon: My haste made me unmannerly: There is staying A gentleman, sent from the king, to see you, Katharine. Admit him entrance, Griffith: But this fellow Let me ne'er see again. [Exennit GRIFFITH and MESSENGER.

KING HENRY VIII.

Re-enter GRIFFITH, with

47/5

CAPUCIUS.

If my sight fail not, You should be lord ambassador from the emperor, My royal nephew, and your name Capucius. Capucius. Madam, the same, your servant. Katharine. O, my lord, The times, and titles, now are alter d strangely With me, since first you knew me. But, I pray you, What is your pleasure with me? Capucius. Noble lady, First, mine own service to your grace; the next, The king's request that I would visit you; Who grieves much for your weakness, and by me Sends you his princely commendations, And heartily entreats you take good comfort. Katharine. O my good lord, that comfort comes too late; 'Tis like a pardon after execution: That gentle physick, given in time, had cur'd me; But now I am past all comforts here, but prayers. How does his highness? Capucius. Madam, in good health. Katharine. So may he ever do! and ever flourish, When I shall dwell with worms, and my poor name Banish'd the kingdom!—Patience, is that letter, I caus'd you write, yet sent away? Patience. No, madam. [Giving it to KATHARINE. Katharine. Sir, I most humbly pray you to deliver This to my lord the king. Capucius. Most willing, madam. Katharine. In which I have commended to his goodness The model of our chaste loves, his young daughter. 3 — The dews of heaven fall thick in blessings on her!— Beseeching him, to give her virtuous breeding; (She is young, and of a noble modest nature; 3

Afterwards queen Mary.

476

KING HENRY VIII.

I hope, she will deserve well;) and a little To love her for her mother's sake, that lov'd him, Heaven knows how dearly. My next poor petition Is, that his noble grace would have some pity Upon my wretched women, that so long Have follow'd both my fortunes faithfully : Of which there is not one, I dare avow, (And now I should not lie,) but will deserve For virtue, and true beauty of the soul, For honesty, and decent carriage, A right good husband, let him be a noble; And, sure, those men are happy that shall have them. The last is, for my men:—they are the poorest, But poverty could never draw them from me;— That they may have their wages duly paid them, And something over to remember me by; If heaven had pleas'd to have given me longer life, And able means, we had not parted thus. These are the whole contents:—And, good my lord, By that you love the dearest in this world, As you wish Christian peace to souls departed, Stand these poor people's friend, and urge the king To do me this last right. Cajmcius. By heaven, I will; Or let me lose the fashion of a man! Katharine. I thank you, honest lord. Eemember me In all humility unto his highness: Say, his long trouble now is passing Out of this world: tell him, in death I bless'd him, For so I will.—Mine eyes grow dim.—Farewell, My lord.—Griffith, farewell.—Nay, Patience, You must not leave me yet. I must to bed; Call in more women.—When I am dead, good wench, Let me be us'd with honour; strew me over With maiden flowers, that all the world may know I was a chaste wife tp my grave: embalm me, Then lay me forth: although unqueen'd, yet like A queen, and daughter to a king, inter me. I can no more. \Exeunt, leading KATHARINE.

KING HENRY VIII.

477

ACT V. I.—A Gallery in the Palace. Enter GARDINER, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, a PAGE with a Torch before him, met by SIR THOMAS LOVELL. Gardiner. It's one o'clock, boy, is't not? Boy. It hath struck. Gardiner. These should be hours for necessities, Not for delights; times to repair our nature "With comforting repose, and not for us To waste these times.—Good hour of night, sir Thomas! Whither so late? Lovell. Came you from the king, my lord? Gardiner. I did, sir Thomas; and left him at primero4 With the duke of Suffolk. Lovell. I must to him too, Before he go to bed. I'll take my leave. Gardiner. Not yet, sir Thomas Lovell. What's the matter? I t seems, you are in haste: an if there be No great offence belongs to't, give your friend Some touch of your late business: Affairs, that walk (As, they say, spirits do) at midnight, have In them a wilder nature, than the business That seeks despatch by day. Lovell. My lord, I love you; And durst commend a secret to your ear Much weightier than this work. The queen's in labour, They say, in great extremity; and fear'd, She'll with the labour end. Gardiner. The fruit, she goes with, I pray for heartily; that it may find Good time, and live: but for the stock, sir Thomas, I wish it grubb'd up now. Lovell. Methinks, I could Cry the amen j and yet my conscience says SCENE

4

A game.

478

KING HENRY VIII,

She's a good creature, and, sweet lady, does Deserve our better wishes. Gardiner. But, sir, sir,— Hear me, sir Thomas: you are a gentleman Of mine own way; I know you wise, religious; And, let me tell you, it will ne'er be well,— 'Twill not, sir Thomas Lovell, take't of me, Till Cranmer, Cromwell, her two hands, and she, Sleep in their graves. Now, sir, you speak of two Lovell. The most reinark'd i' the kingdom. As for Cromwell,— Beside that of the jewel-house, he's made master O' the rolls, and the king's secretary: further, sir, Stands in the gap and trade of more preferments, With which the time will load him: The archbishop Is the king's hand, and tongue; And who dare speak One syllable against him? Gardiner. Yes, yes, sir Thomas, There are that dare; and T myself have ventured To speak my mind of him: and, indeed, this day, Sir, (I may tell it you,) I think, I have Incens'd5 the lords o' the council, that he is (For so I know he is, they know he is) A most arch heretick, a pestilence That does infect the land: with which they moved, Have broken withG the king; who hath so far Given ear to our complaint, (of his great grace And princely care; foreseeing those fell mischiefs, Our reasons laid before him,) he hath commanded, To-morrow morning to the council-board He be con vented.7 He's a rank weed, sir Thomas. And we must root him out. From your affairs I hinder you too long: good night, sir Thomas. Lovell. Many good nights, my lord; I rest your servant. [Exeunt GARDINER and PAGE. 5

Set on.

6

Told their minds to.

:

Summoned.

KING HENRY VIIL

As

LOVELL

is going out, enter the KING, and tlte

479 DUKE

OF SUFFOLK.

King Henry. Charles, I will play no more to-night; My mind's not on't, you are too hard for me. Suffolk. I did never win of you before. King Henry. But little, Charles; Nor shall not, when my fancy's on my play.— Now, Lovell, from the queen what is the news ? Lovell. I could not personally deliver to her "What you commanded me, but by her woman I sent your message; who return'd her thanks In the greatest humbleness, and desir'd your highness Most heartily to pray for her. King Henry. What say'st thou? ha! To pray for her? what, is she crying out? Lovell. So said her woman; and that her sufferance made Almost each pang a death. King Henry. Alas, good lady! Suffolk. God safely quit her of her burden, and With gentle travail, to the gladding of Your highness with an heir! King Henry. 'Tis midnight, Charles, Pr'ythee, to bed; and in thy prayers remember The estate of my poor queen. Leave me alone; For I must think of that, which company Will not be friendly to. Suffolk. I wish' your highness A quiet night, and my good mistress will Remember in my prayers. King Henry. Charles, good night. [Exit SUFFOLK. Enter SIR ANTHONY DENNY. Well, sir, what follows? Denny. Sir, I have brought my lord the archbishop, As you commanded me. King Henry. Ha! Canterbury?

480

KING HENRY VIII.

Denny. Ay, my good lord. King Henry. 'Tis true: Where is he, Dennj ? Denny. He attends your highness' pleasure. King Henry. Bring him to us. [Exit DENNY, Lovell. This is about that which the bishop spake; I am happily come hither. [Aside. lie-enter DENNY, with CRANMEK* King Henry. Avoid the gallery, [LOVELL seems to stay. Ha!—I have said.—Be gone. "What— [Exeunt LOVELL and DENNY. Cranmer. I am fearful:—Wherefore frowns he thus? 'Tis his aspect of terror. All's not well. King Henry. How now, my lord? You do desire to know Wherefore I sent for you. Cranmer. It is my duty, To attend your highness' pleasure. King Henry. Pray you, arise, My good and gracious lord of Canterbury. Come, you and I must walk a turn together; I have news to tell you: Come, come, give me your hand. Ah, my good lord, I grieve at what I speak, And am right sorry to repeat what follows: I have, and most unwillingly, of late Heard many grievous, I do say, my lord, Grievous complaints of-you; which, being consider'd, Have mov'd us and our council, that you shall This morning come before us; where, I know, You cannot with such freedom purge yourself, But that, till further trial, in those charges Which will require your answer, you must take Your patience to you, and be well contented T<> make your house our Tower: You a brother of us,8 It fits we thus proceed, or else no witness Would come against you. 8

One of the council.

KING HENRY VIII.

481

Cranmer. I humbly thank your highness; And am right glad to catch this good occasion Most throughly to be winnow'd, where my chaff And corn shall fly asunder: for, I know, There's none stands under more calumnious tongues, Than I myself, poor man. King Henry. Stand up, good Canterbury; Thy truth, and thy integrity, is rooted In us, thy friend: Give me thy hand, stand up; Pr'ythee, let's walk. Now, by my holy-dame, What manner of man are you ? My lord, I look'd You would have given me your petition, that I should have ta'en some pains to bring together Yourself and your accusers; and to have heard you Without indurance, further. Cranmer. Most dread liege, The good I stand on is my truth, and honesty; If they shall fail, I, with mine enemies, Will triumph o'er my person; which I weigh not, Being of those virtues vacant. I fear nothing What can be said against me. King Henry. Know you not how Your state stands i' the world, with the whole world ? Your enemies Are many, and not small; their practices Must bear the same proportion: and not ever The justice and the truth o' the question carries The due o' the verdict with it: At what ease Might corrupt minds procure knaves as corrupt To swear against you? such things have been done. You are potently oppos'd: and with a malice Of as great size. Ween 9 you of better treatment, I mean in perjur'd witness, than your Master, Whose minister you are, whiles here he liv'd Upon this naughty earth ? Go to, go to; You take a precipice for no leap of danger, And woo your own destruction. Cranmer. God, and your majesty, Think. VOL. IV.

2 I

482

KING HENRY VIII.

Protect mine innocence, or I fall into The trap is laid for me! King Henry. Be of good cheer; They shall no more prevail, than we give way to. Keep comfort to you; and this morning see You do appear before them: if they shall chance, In charging you with matters, to commit you, The best persuasions to the contrary Fail not to use, and with what vehemency The occasion shall instruct you: if entreaties "Will render you no remedy, this ring Deliver them, and your appeal to us There make before them.—Look, the good man weeps! He's honest, on mine honour. I swear, he is true-hearted; and a soul None better in my kingdom.—Get you gone, And do as I have bid you.—[Exit CRANMER.] He has strangled His language in his tears. Enter an old LADY. Gentleman [Within] Come back; What mean you? Lady. I l l not come back: the tidings that I bring Will make my boldness manners.—Now good angels Fly o'er thy royal head, and shade thy person Under their blessed wings! King Henry. Now, by thy looks I guess thy message. Is the queen deliver'd? Say, ay; and of a boy. Lady. Ay, ay, my liege; And of a lovely boy: The God of heaven Both now and ever bless her!—'tis a girl, Promises boys hereafter. Sir, your queen Desires your visitation, and to be Acquainted with this stranger; 'tis as like you As cherry is to cherry. King Henry. Lovell,— Enter LOVELL. Lovell. Sir.

KING HENRY VIII.

483

King Henry. Give her an hundred marks. I'll to the queen. [Exit KING. Lady. An hundred marks! by this light, I'll have more. An ordinary groom is for such payment. I will have more, or scold it out of him. Said I for this, the girl is like to him ? I will have more, or else unsay't; and now While it is hot, I'll put it to the issue. [Exeunt. SCENE

II.—Lobby before the Council-Chamber.

Enter CRANMER ; SERVANTS, DOORKEEPER,
484

KING HENRY VIII.

Enter, at a Window above, the KING and BUTTS. Butts. I'll show your grace the strangest sight,— King Henry. What's that, Butts? Butts. I think your highness saw this many a day. King Henry. JBody o' me, where is it? Butts. There, my lord: The high promotion of his grace of Canterbury; Who holds his state at door, 'mongst pursuivants, Pages, and foot-boys. Henry King. Ha! 'Tis he, indeed: Is this the honour they do one another? 'Tis well, there's one above them yet. I had thought, They had parted so much honesty amongst them, (At least, good manners,) as not thus to suffer A man of his place, and so near our favour, To dance attendance on their lordships' pleasures, And at the door too, like a post with packets. By holy Mary, Butts, there's knavery: Let them alone, and draw the curtain close; We shall hear more anon.— [Exefmt. The Council-Chamber. Enter the LORD CHANCELLOR, tJie DUKE OF SUFFOLK, EARL OF SURREY, LORD CHAMBERLAIN, GARDINER, and CROMWELL. The CHANCELLOR places himself at the

upper end of the Table, on the left hand; a Seat being left void above him, as for tlie ARCHBISHOP OF CANTERBURY. The rest seat tliemselves in order on each side. CROMWELL at the lower end, as Secretary. Chancellor. Speak to the business, master secretary: Why are we met in council? Cromwell. Please your honours, The chief cause concerns his grace of Canterbury. Gardiner. Has he had knowledge of it? Cromwell. Yes. Norfolk. Who waits there? Doorkeeper. Without, my noble lords?

KING HENRY VIII.

485

Gardiner. Yes. Doorkeeper. My lord archbishop, And has done half an hour, to know your pleasures. Chancellor. Let him come in. Doorkeeper. Your grace may enter now. [CRANMER

approaches the Council-Table.

Chancellor. My good lord archbishop, I am very sorry To sit here at this present, and behold That chair stand empty: But we all are men, In our own natures frail; out of which frailty, And want of wisdom, you, that best should teach us, Have misdemean'd yourself, and not a little, Toward the king first, then his laws, in filling The whole realm, by your teaching, and your chaplains, (For so we are informed,) with new opinions, Divers and dangerous, which are heresies, And, not reformed, may prove pernicious. Gardiner. Which reformation must be sudden too, My noble lords: for those that tame wild horses, Pace them not in their hands to make them gentle; But stop their mouths with stubborn bits, and spur them, Till they obey the manage. If we suffer (Out of our easiness and childish pity To one man's honour) this contagious sickness, Farewell, all physick: and what follows then? Commotions, uproars, with a general taint Of the whole state: as, of late days, our neighbours, The upj^er Germany, can dearly witness, Yet freshly pitied in our memories. Cranmer. My good lords, hitherto, in all the progress Both of my life and office, I have labour'd, And with no little study, that my teaching, And the strong cause of my authority, Might go one way, and safely; and the end Was ever, to do well: nor is there living (I speak it with a single heart, my lords,) A man, that more detests, more stirs against, Both in his private conscience, and his place, Defacers of a public peace, than I do.

486

KING HENRY VIII.

Tray heaven, the king may never find a heart With less allegiance in it! Men, that make Envy, and crooked malice, nourishment, Dare bite the best. I do beseech your lordships, That, in this case of justice, my accusers, Be what they will, may stand forth face to face, And freely urge against me. Suffolk. Nay, my lord, That cannot be; you are a counsellor, And, by that virtue, no man dare accuse you. Gardiner. My lord, because we have business of more moment, We will be short with you. 'Tis his highness' pleasure, And our consent, for better trial of you, From hence you be committed to the Tower; Where, being but a private man again, You shall know many dare accuse you boldly, More than, I fear, you are provided for. Cranmer. Ah, my good lord of Winchester, I thank you, You are always my good friend; if your will pass, I shall both find your lordship judge and juror, You are so merciful, I see your end, 5 Tis my undoing: Love, and meekness, lord, Become a churchman better than ambition; Win straying souls with modesty again, Cast none away. That I shall clear myself, Lay all the weight ye can upon my patience, I make as little doubt, as you do conscience, In doing daily wrongs. I could say more, But reverence to your calling makes me modest. Gardiner. My lord, my lord, you are a sectary, That's the plain truth; your painted gloss discovers To men that understand you, words and weakness. Cromwell. My lord of Winchester, you are a little, By your good favour, too sharp; men so noble, However faulty, yet should find respect For what they have been: 'tis a cruelty, To load a falling man. Gardiner. Good master secretary,

KING HENRY VIII.

487

I cry your honour mercy; you may, worst Of all this table, say so. Cromwell. Why, my lord ? Gardiner. Do not I know you for a favourer Of this new sect ? ye are not sound. Cromwell. Not sound? Gardiner. Not sound, I say. Cromwell. 'Would you were half so honest! Men's prayers then would seek you, not their fears. Gardiner. I shall remember this bold language. Cromwell. Do. Remember your bold life too. Chancellor. This is too much; Forbear, for shame, my lords. Gardiner. I have done. Cromwell. And I. Chancellor. Then thus for you, my lord,—It stands agreed, I take it, by all voices, that forthwith You be convey'd to the Tower a prisoner; There to remain, till the king's further pleasure Be known unto us: Are you all agreed, lords? All. We are. Cranmer. Is there no other way of mercy, But I must needs to the Tower, my lords? Gardiner. What other Would you expect? You are strangely troublesome! Let some 6* the guard be ready there. Enter Guard. Cranmer. For me? Must I go like a traitor thither? Gardiner. Receive him, And see him safe i' the Tower. Cranmer. Stay, good my lords, I have a little yet to say. Look there, my lords; By virtue of that ring, I take my cause Out of the gripes of cruel men, and give it To a most noble judge, the king my master.

488

KING HENRY VIII.

Chamberlain. This is the king's ring. ? Surrey. Tis no counterfeit, Suffolk. 'Tis the right ring, by heaven: I told ye all, When we first put this dangerous stone a rolling, 'Twould fall upon ourselves. Norfolk. Do you think, my lords, The king will suffer but the little finger Of this man to be vex'd! Chamberlain. 'Tis now too certain : How much more is his life in value with him ? 'Would I were fairly out on't. Cromwell. My mind gave me, In seeking tales, and informations, Against this man, (whose honesty the devil And his disciples only envy at,) Ye blew the fire that burns ye: Now have at ye. Enter KING, frowning on them; takes his Seat Gardiner. Dread sovereign, how much are we bound to heaven In daily thanks, that gave us such a prince; Not only good and wise, but most religious: One that, in all obedience, makes the church The chief aim of his honour; and, to strengthen That holy duty, out of dear respect, His royal self in judgment comes to hear The cause betwixt her and this great offender. King Henry. You were ever good at sudden commendations, Bishop of Winchester. But know, I come not To hear such flattery now, and in my presence; They are too thin and base to hide offences. To me you cannot reach, you play the spaniel, And think with wagging of your tongue to win me; But, whatsoe'er thou tak'st me for, I am sure, Thou hast a cruel nature, and a bloody.— Good man, [To CRANMER,] sit down. Now let me see the proudest

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He, that dares most, but wag his finger at thee: By all that's holy, he had better starve, Than but once think this place becomes thee not. Surrey. May it please your grace,— King Henry. No, sir, it does not please me. I had thought, I had had men of some understanding And wisdom, of my council; but I find none. Was it discretion, lords, to let this man, This good man, (few of you deserve that title,) This honest man, wait like a lousy footboy At chamber door? and one as great as you are? Why, what a shame was this? Did my commission Bid ye so far forget yourselves? I gave ye Power as he was a counsellor to try him, Not as a groom. There's some of ye, I see, More out of malice than integrity, Would try him to the utmost, had ye mean; Which ye shall never have, while I live. Chancellor. Thus far, My most dread sovereign, may it like your grace To let my tongue excuse all. What was purposed Concerning his imprisonment, was rather (If there be faith in men) meant for his trial, And fair purgation to the world, than malice; I am sure, in me. King Henry. Well, well, my lords, respect him; Take him, and use him well, he's worthy of it. I will say thus much for him, If a prince May be beholden to a subject, I Am, for his love and service, so to him. Make me no more ado, but all embrace him; Be friends, for shame, my lords.—My lord of Canterbury, I have a suit which you must not deny me; That is, a fair young maid that yet wants baptism, You must be godfather, and answer for her. Cranmer. The greatest monarch now alive may glory In such an honour; How may I deserve it, That am a poor and humble subject to you?

490

KING HENRY VIII.

King Henry. Come, come, my lord, you'd spare your spoons;1 you shall have Two noble partners with you; the old duchess of Norfolk, And lady marquis Dorset; Will these please you? Once more, my lord of Winchester, I charge you, Embrace, and love this man. Gardiner. With a true heart, And brother-love, I do it, Cranmer. And let heaven Witness, how dear I hold this confirmation. King Henry. Good man, those joyful tears show thy true heart. The common voice, I see, is verified Of thee, which says thus, Do my lord of Canterbury A shrewd turn, and lie is your friend for ever.— Come, lords, we trifle time away; I long To have this young one made a Christian. As I have made ye one, lords, one remain; So I grow stronger, you more honour gain. [Exeunt. III.—The Palace Yard. Noise and Tumult within. Enter PORTER and his MAN. Porter. You'll leave your noise, anon, ye rascals: Do you take the court for Paris-garden ?2 ye rude slaves, leave your gaping.3 [ Within.~\ Good master porter, I belong to the larder. Porter. Belong to the gallows, and be hanged, you rogue : Is this the place to roar in ?—Fetch me a dozen crab-tree staves, and strong ones; these are but switches to them.—I'll scratch your heads: You must be seeing christenings? Do you look for ale and cake here, you rude rascals? Man. Pray, sir, be patient; 'tis as much impossible (Unless we sweep them from the door with cannons,) To scatter them, as 'tis to make them sleep SCENE

1

It was an ancient custom for sponsors to present spoons to their godchildren. 2 The bear garden on the bank side, 3 Roaring.

KING HENRY VIII.

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On May-day morning; which will never be: We may as well push against Paul's, as stir them. Porter. How got they in, and be hang'd? Man. Alas, I know not; How gets the tide in ? As much as one sound cudgel of four foot (You see the poor remainder) could distribute, I made no spare, sir Porter. You did nothing, sir. Man. I am not Samson, nor sir Guy, nor Colbrand,4 to mow them down before me: but, if I spared any, that had a head to hit, either young or old, he or she, let me never hope to see a chine again. [Within.] Do you hear, master porter? Porter. I shall be with you presently, good master puppy.—Keep the door close, sirrah. Man. What would you have me do? Porter. What should you do, but knock them down by the dozens? Is this Moorfields to muster in? Man. There is a fellow somewhat near the door, he should be a brazier by his face, for, o my conscience, twenty of the dog-days now reign in's nose; all that stand about him are under the line, they need no other penance: That fire-drake did I hit three times on the head, and three times was his nose discharged against me; he stands there, like a mortar-piece, to blow us. There was a haberdasher's wife of small wit near him, that railed uj3on me till her pink'd porringer5 fell off her head, for kindling such a combustion in the state. I miss'd the meteor6 once, and hit that woman, who cried out clubs! when I might see from far some forty truncheoneers draw to her succour, which were the hope of the Strand, where she was quartered. They fell on; I made good my place; at length they came to the broomstaff with me, I defied them still; when suddenly a file of boys behind them, loose shot, delivered such a shower of pebbles, that I was fain to draw mine honour in, and let them win the work: The devil was amongst them, I think, surely. 4 5

Guy of Warwick, nor Colbrand the Danish giant. 6 Pink?d cap. The brazier.

492

KING HENRY VIII.

Porter. These are the youths that thunder at a playhouse, and fight for bitten apples; that no audience, but the Tribulation of Tower-hill, or the limbs of Limehouse, their dear brothers, are able to endure. I have some of them in Limbo Patrum7, and there they are like to dance these three days; besides the running banquet of two beadles,8 that is to come. Enter the LORD

CHAMBERLAIN.

Chamberlain. Mercy o' me, what a multitude are here! They grow still too, from all parts they are coming, As if we kept a fair here! Where are these porters, These lazy knaves'?—Ye have made a fine hand, fellows. There's a trim rabble let in: Are all these Your faithful friends o' the suburbs? AVe shall have Great store of room, no doubt, left for the ladies, When they pass back from the christening. Porter. An't please your honour, We are but men; and what so many may do, Not being torn a pieces, we have done: An army cannot rule them. Chamberlain. As I live, If the king blame me for't, I'll lay ye all By the heels, and suddenly; and on your heads Clap round fines, for neglect: You are lazy knaves; And here ye lie baiting of bumbards,9 when Ye should do service. Hark, the trumpets sound; They are come already from the christening: Go, break among the press, and find a way out To let the troop pass fairly; or 111 find A Marshalsea, shall hold you play these two months. Porter. Make way there for the princess. Man. You great fellow, stand close up, or I'll make your head ache. Porter. You i' the camblet, get up o' the rail; I'll pick 1 you o'er the pales else. [Exeunt. 7 9

Place of confinement. Black leather vessels to hold beer.

8 l

A dessert of whipping. Pitch.

KING HENRY VIII.

493

IV.—The Pcdace.2

SCENE

Enter Trumpets, sounding; then two

ALDERMEN, LORD MAYOR, GARTER, CRANMER, DUKE OF NORFOLK, with his Marshal's Staff, DUKE OF SUFFOLK, two NOBLE-

MEN hearing great standing Bowls for the Christening Gifts; then four NOBLEMEN, hearing a Canopy, under which the DUCHESS OF NORFOLK, Godmother, bearing the Child richly habited in a Mantle, dec. Train borne by a'JjABY; then follows the MARCHIONESS OF DORSET, the other Godmotlier, and LADIES. The Troop pass once about the Stage, and GARTER speaks. Garter. Heaven, from thy endless goodness, send prosperous life, long, and ever happy, to the high and mighty princess of England, Elizabeth. Flourish. Enter KING, and Train. Cranmer. [Kneeling.] And to your royal grace, and the good queen, My noble partners, and myself, thus pray:— All comfort, joy, in this most gracious lady, Heaven ever laid up to make parents happy, May hourly fall upon ye! King Henry. Thank you, good lord archbishop; What is her name? Cranmer. Elizabeth. King Henry. Stand up, lord.— [The KING kisses the Child. "With this kiss take my blessing: God protect thee! Into whose hands I give thy life. Cranmer. Amen. King Henry. My noble gossips, ye have been too prodigal: I thank ye heartily; so shall this lady, When she has so much English. Cranmer. Let me speak, sir, For heaven now bids me; and the words I utter 2

At Greenwich*

494

KING HENRY VIII.

Let none think flattery, for they '11 find them truth. This royal infant, (Heaven still move about her!) Though in her cradle, yet now promises Upon this land a thousand thousand blessings, Which time shall bring to ripeness: She shall be (But few now living can behold that goodness,) A pattern to all princes living with her, And all that shall succeed: Sheba was never More covetous of wisdom, and fair virtue, Than this pure soul shall be: all princely graces, That mould up such a mighty piece as this is, With all the virtues that attend the good, Shall still be doubled on her: truth shall nurse her, Holy and heavenly thoughts still counsel her: She shall be lov'd, and fear'd: Her own shall bless her: Her foes shake like a field of beaten corn, And hang their heads with sorrow: Good grows with her: In her days, every man shall eat in safety Under his own vine, what he plants; and sing The merry songs of peace to all his neighbours. God shall be truly known; and those about her From her shall read the perfect ways of honour, And by those claim their greatness, not by blood [Nor3 shall this peace sleep with her: But as when The bird of wonder dies, the maiden phcenix, Her ashes new create another heir, As great in admiration as herself; So shall she leave her blessedness to one, (When heaven shall call her from this cloud of darkness,) Who, from the sacred ashes of her honour, Shall star-like rise, as great in fame as she was, And so stand fix'd: Peace, plenty, love, truth, terror, That were the servants to this chosen infant, Shall then be his, and like a vine grow to him; Wherever the bright sun of heaven shall shine, His honour and the greatness of his name 3 This, and the following seventeen lines, were probably written by B. Jonson, after the accession of king James.

KING HENRY VIII.

495

Shall be, and make new nations: He shall flourish, And, like a mountain cedar, reach his branches To all the plains about him: Our children's children Shall see this, and bless heaven. King Henry. Thou speakest wonders.] Cranmer. She shall be, to the happiness of England, An aged princess; many days shall see her, And yet no day without a deed to crown it. 'Would I had known no more! but she must die, She must, the saints must have her; yet a virgin, A most unspotted lily shall she pass To the ground, and all the world shall mourn her. King Henry. O lord archbishop, Thou hast made me ilow a man; never, before This happy child, did I get any thing: This oracle of comfort has so pleas'd me, That, when I am in heaven, I shall desire To see what this child does, and praise my Maker.— I thank ye all:—To you, my good lord mayor, And your good brethren, I am much beholden; I have received much honour by your presence, And ye shall find me thankful. Lead the way, lords; Ye must all see the queen, and she must thank ye, She will be sick else. This day, no man think He has business at his house; for all shall stay: This little one shall make it holiday. [Eoceunt.

496

KING HENRY VIII.

EPILOGUE. Tis ten to one, this play can never please All that are here: Some come to take their ease, And sleep an act or two; but those, we fear, We have frighted with our trumpets; so, 'tis clear, They'll say, 'tis naught: others, to hear the city Abus'd extremely, and to cry,—that's witty ! Which we have not done neither: that, I fear, All the expected good we are like to hear For this play at this time, is only in The merciful construction of good women; For such a one we show'd them; If they smile, And say, 'twill do, I know, within a while All the best men are ours; for, 'tis ill hap, If they hold, when their ladies bid them clap.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

VOL. IV.

2 K

PERSONS REPRESENTED-

TIMON,

a noble Athenian.

Lucius,

}

LUCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS,

J

> Lords, and Flatterers of Timon.

VENTIDIUS, one of Timorts false Friends. APEMANTUS, a churlish Philosopher. ALCEBIADES, an Athenian General. FLAVIUS, Steward to Timon. FLAMINIUS, LUCILIUS, SERVILIUS,

}

> Timon's Servants. J

CAPnis, PHTLOTUS, TITUS,

Servants to Titnotfs Creditors.

Lucius, HORTENSIUS, Twp SERVANTS OF VARRO. THE SERVANT OF ISIDORE. Two OF TIMON'S CREDITORS. CUPID AND MASKERS. THREE STRANGERS. POET. PAINTER. JEWELLER. MERCHANT. A N OLD ATHENIAN. A PAGE. A FOOL.

Other Lords, Senators, Officers, Soldiers, Thieves and Attendants. SCENE—Athens; and the Woods adjoining.

TIMON OF ATHENS. ACT I. SCENE I.—ATHENS.

A Hall in TIMON'S Rouse.

Enter POET, PAINTER, JEWELLER, MERCHANT, cmd Others, at several doors. Poet. Good clay, sir. Painter. I am glad you are well. Poet. I have not seen you long; How goes the world? Painter. It wears, sir, as it grows. Poet. Ay, that's well known: But what particular rarity? what strange, Which manifold record not matches? See, Magick of bounty! all these spirits thy power Hath conjur'd to attend. I know the merchant. Painter. I know them both; t'other's a jeweller. Merchant. O' tis a worthy lord! JeiDeller. ^"ay> that's most fix'd. Merchant. A most incomparable man; breathed/ as it were, To an untirable and continuate2 goodness: He passes.3 Jeweller. I have a jewel here. Merchant. 0, pray, let's see't: For the lord Timon, sir ? Jeweller. If he will touch the estimate; But, for that— Poet. When we for recommence have praisd the vile, 1

2 Inured by constant practice. Continual. "* /. e. Exceeds, goes beyond common bounds.

500

TIMON OF ATHENS.

It stains the glory in that happy verse Which aptly sings tlie good. Merchant Tis a good form. [Looking at the jewel. Jeweller. And rich: here is a water, look you. Painter. You are rapt, sir, in some work, some dedication To the great lord. Poet. A thing slipp'd idly from me, Our poesy is as a gum, which oozes From whence 'tis nourished: The fire i' the flint Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies Each bound it chafes. What have you here? Painter. A. picture, sir.—And when comes your book forth? Poet. Upon the heels of my presentment,4 sir. Let's see your piece. Painter. Tis a good piece. Poet. So 'tis; this comes off well and excellent. Painter. Indifferent. Poet. Admirable: How this grace Speaks his own standing! what a mental power This eye shoots forth! how big imagination Moves in this lip! to the dumbness of the gesture One might interpret. Painter. I t is a pretty mocking of the life. Here is a touch; Is't good? Poet. I'll say of it, It tutors nature: artificial strife5 Lives in these touches, livelier than life. Enter certain Senators, and pass over. Painter. How this lord's foliow'd! Poet. The senators of Athens:—Happy men! Painter. Look, more! Poet. You see this confluen ce, this greatfloodofvisit ors, I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man, 4 5

As soon as my book has been presented to Timon. i. e. The contest of art with nature.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

501

Whom this beneath world doth embrace and hug With amplest entertainment: My free drift Halts not particularly,6 but moves itself In a wide sea of wax: no levelTd malice Infects one comma in the course I hold; But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, Leaving no tract behind. Painter. How shall I understand you? Poet. I'll unbolt to you. You see how all conditions, how all minds, (As well of glib and slippery creatures, as Of grave and austere quality,) tender down Their services to lord Timon: his large fortune, Upon his good and gracious nature hanging, Subdues and properties to his love and tendance All sorts of hearts: yea, from the glass-fac'd flatterer7 To Apemantus, that few things loves better Than to abhor himself; even he drops down The knee before him, and i*eturns in peace Most rich in Timon's nod. Painter. I saw them speak together. Poet. Sir, I have upon a high and pleasant hill, Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd: The base o' the mount Is rank'd with all deserts, all kind of natures, That labour on the bosom of this sphere To propagate their states: 8 amongst them all, Whose eyes are on this sovereign lady fixed, One do I personate of lord Timon's frame, Whom Fortune with her ivoiy hands wafts to her; Whose present grace to present slaves and servants Translates his rivals. Painter. 'Tis conceiv'd to scope. This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, methinks, With one man beckon'd from the rest below, Bowing his head against the steepy mount 6 7 6

My design does not stop at any particular character. One who shows by reflection the looks of his patron, To advance their conditions of life.

502

TIMON OF ATHENS.

To climb his happiness, would be well expressed In our condition. Poet Nay, sir, but hear me on: All those which were his fellows but of late, (Some better than his value,) on the moment Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, Rain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, Make sacred even his stirrop, and through him Drink the free air. Painter. Ay, marry, what of these ? Poet When fortune in her shift and change of mood, Spurns down her late belov'd, all his dependants, "Which laboured after him to the mountain's top, Even on their knees and hands, let him slip down, Not one accompanying his declining foot. Painter, 5Tis common: A thousand moral paintings I can show That shall demonstrate these quick blows of fortune More pregnantly than words. Yet you do well, To show lord Timon that mean eyes have seen The foot above the head. Trumpets sound. Enter TIMON, attended; tlie SERVANT of VENTIDIUS talking with him. Timon. Imprisoned is he, say you? Ventidius Servant Ay, my good lord: five talents is his debt; His means most short, his creditors most strait: Your honourable letter he desires To those have shut him up; which failing to him, Periods his comfort. Timon. Noble Yentidius! Well; I am not of that feather, to shake off My friend when he must need me. I do know him, A. gentleman, that well deserves a help, Which he shall have: I'll pay the debt, and free him. Ventidius Servant. Your lordship ever binds him. Timon. Commend me to him: I will send his ransome ; And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to me:—

TIMON OF ATHENS.

503

'Tis not enough to help the feeble up, But to support him after.—Fare you well Ventidius Servant. All happiness to your honour! [Exit. Enter an Old ATHENIAN. Old Athenian. Lord Timon, hear me speak. Timon. Freely, good father. Old Athenian. Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. Timon. I have so: What of him ? Old Athenian. Most noble Timon, call the man before thee. Timon. Attends ha here, or no?—Lucilius! Enter LUCILIUS. Lucilius. Here, at your lordship's service. Old Athenian. This fellow here, lord Timon, this thy creature, By night frequents my house, I am a man That from my first have been inclin'd to thrift, And my estate deserves an heir more rais'd, Than one which holds a trencher. Timon. Well; what further? Old Athenian. One only daughter have I, no kin else, On whom I may confer what I have got: The maid is fair, o' the youagest for a bride, And I have bred her at my dearest cost, In qualities of the best. This man of thine Attempts her love: I pr'ythee, noble lord, Join with me to forbid him her resort; Myself have spoke in vain. Timon. The man is honest. Old Athenian. Therefore he will be, Timon: His honesty rewards him in itself, It must not bear my daughter. Timon. Does she love him? Old Athenian. She is young and apt: Our own precedent passions do instruct us What levity's in youth.

504

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Timon. [To LUCILIUS,] Love you the maid? Lucilius. Ay, my good lord, and she accepts of it. Old Athenicm. If in her marriage my consent be missing, I call the gods to witness, I will choose Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world, And dispossess her all. Timon. How shall she be endow'd, If she be mated with an equal husband? Old Athenian. Three talents, on the present; in future, all. Timon. This gentleman of mine hath serv'd me long: To build his fortune, I will strain a little, For 'tis a bond in men. Give him thy daughter: What you bestow, in him I'll counterpoise, And make him weigh with her. Old Athenian. Most noble lord, Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. Timon. My hand to thee; mine honour on my promise. Lucilius. Humbly I thank your lordship: Never may That state or fortune fall into my keeping, Which is not ow'd to you! [Exeunt LUCILIUS and Old ATHENIAN. Poet. Vouchsafe my labour, and long live your lordship! Timon. I thank you; you shall hear from me anon : Go not away.—What have you there, my friend? Painter. A piece of painting, which I do beseech Four lordship to accept. Timon. Painting is welcome. The painting is almost the natural man; For since dishonour trafficks with man's nature, He is but outside: These pencil'd figures are Even such as they give out. I like your work; And you shall find, I like it: wait attendance, Till you hear further from me. Painter. The gods preserve you! Timon. Well fare you> gentlemen: Give me your hand:

TIMON OF ATHENS.

505

We must needs dine together.—Sir, your jowel Hath suffer'd under praise. Jeweller. What, my lord? dispraise? Timon. A mere satiety of commendations. If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, It would unclew9 me quite. Jeweller. My lord, 'tis rated As those, which sell, would give: But you well know, Things of like value, differing in the owners,. Are prized by their masters; believe't, dear lord, You mend the jewel by wearing it. Timon. Well mock'd. Merchant. No, my good lord; he speaks the common tongue, Which all men speak with him. Timon. Look, who comes here? Will you be chid? Enter APEMANTUS. Jeweller. We will bear, with your lordship. Merchant. He'll spare none. Timon. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apemantus! Apemantus. Till I be gentle, stay for thy good morrow; When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves honest. Timon. Why dost thou call them knaves ? thou know'st them not. Apemantus. Are they not Athenians? Timon. Yes. Apemantus. Then I repent not. Jeweller. You know me, Apemantus. Apemantus. Thou knowest, I do; I call'd thee by thy name. Timon. Thou art proud, Apemantus. Apemantus. Of nothing so much, as that I am not like Timon. Timon. Whither art going? Apemantus. To knock out an honest Athenian's brains. Timon. That's a deed thou'lt die for. 9

Ruhu

506

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Apemantus. Eight, if doing nothing be death by the law. Timon. How likest thou this picture, Apemantus? Apemantus. The best, for the innocence. Timon. How dost thou like this jewel, Apemantus? Apemantus. Not so well as plain dealing,1 which will not cost a man a doit. Timon. What dost thou think 'tis worth? Apemantus. Not worth my thinking.—How now, poet? Poet. How now, philosopher? Apemantus. Thouliest. Poet. Art not one? Apemantus. Yes. Poet. Then I lie not. Apemantus. Art not a poet? Poet. Yes. Apemantus. Then thou liest: look in thy last work, Where thou hast feign'd him a worthy fellow. Poet. That's not feign'd, he is so. Apemantus. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay thee for thy labour: He, that loves to be flattered, is worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I were a lord! Timon. What would'st do then, Apemantus? Apemantus. Even as Apemantus does now, hate a lord with my heart. Timon. What, thyself? Apemantus. Ay. Timon. Wherefore? Apemantus. That I had no angry wit to be a lord.— Art not thou a merchant ? Merchant. Ay, Apemantus. Apemantus. Traffick confound thee, if the gods will not! Merchant. If traffick do it, the gods do it. Apemantus. Traffick's thy god, and thy god confound thee! 1

Alluding to the proverb: Plain-dealing is a jewel, but they who use it beggars.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

507

Trumpets sound. Enter a SERVANT. Thnon. What trumpet's that? Servant. Tis Alcibiades and Some twenty horse, all of companionship. Thnon. Pray, entertain them; give them guide to us.— [Exeunt some Attendants. You must needs dine with me:—Go not you hence, Till I have thank'd you; and when dinner's done, Show me this piece.—I am joyful of your sights.— Enter ALCIBIADES with his Company. Most welcome, sir! [They salute. Apemantus. So, so; there!— Aches contract and starve your supple joints!— That there should be small love 'niongst these sweet knaves, And all this court'sy! The strain of man's bred out Into baboon and monkey. Alcibiades. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and I feed Most hungrily on your sight. Timon. Right welcome, sir: Ere we depart, we'll share a bounteous time In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. [Exeunt all but APEMANTUS. Enter two LORDS. 1 Lord. What time a day is't, Apemantus? Apemantus. Time to be honest. 1 Lord. That time serves still. Apemantus. The most accursed thou, that still omit'st it. 2 Lord. Thou art going to lord Timon's feast. Apemantus. Ay; to see meat fill knaves, and wine heat fools. 2 Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. Apemantus. Thou art a fool, to bid me farewell twice 2 Lord. Why, Apemantus?

508

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Apemcmtus. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, for I mean to give thee none. 1 Lord. Hang thyself. Apemantus. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding; make thy requests to thy friend. 2 Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or 111 spurn thee hence. Apemantus. I will fly like a dog, the heels of the ass. [Exit 1 Lord. He's opposite to humanity. Come, shall we in, And taste lord Timon's bounty? he outgoes The very heart of kindness. 2 Lord. He pours it out; Plutus the god of gold Is but his steward: no meed,2 but he repays Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him, But breeds the giver a return exceeding All use of quittance.3 1 Lord. The noblest mind he carries, That ever govern'd man. 2 Lord. Long may he live in fortunes! Shall we in ? 1 Lord. I l l keep you company. [Exeunt. II.—A Room of State in TIMON'S House. Hautboys playing loud musick. A great Banquet served in; FLAVIUS and others attending; then enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, LUCIUS, LUCULLUS, SEMPRONIUS, and other ATHENIAN Senators, with VENTIDIUS, and Attendants. Then comes, dropping after all, APEMANTUS, discontentedly. Ventidius. Most honour'd Timon, 5t hath pleas'd the gods remember My father's age, and call him to long peace. He is gone happy, and has left me rich : Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound To your free heart, I do return those talents, Doubled with thanks, and service, from whose help I deriv'd liberty. SCENE

2 3

Meed here means desert. i. e. All the customary returns made in discharge of obligations.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

509

Timon. 0, by no means, Honest Ventidius: you mistake my love; I gave it freely ever; and there's none Can truly say, he gives, if he receives: If our betters play at that game, we must not dare To imitate them; Faults that are rich, are fair. Ventidius. A noble spirit. [They all stand ceremoniously looking on TIMON. Timon. Nay, my lords, ceremony Was but devis'd at first, to set a gloss On faint deeds, hollow welcomes, Recanting goodness, sorry ere 'tis shown; But where there is true friendship, there needs none. Pray sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes, Than my fortunes to me. \TJiey siL 1 Lord. My lord, we always have confess'd it. Apemantus. Ho, ho, confess'd it ? hang'd it, have you not? Timon. O, Apemantus!—you are welcome. Apemantus. No. You shall not make me welcome: 1 come to have thee thrust me out of doors. Timon. Fye, thou art a churl; you have got a humour there Does not become a man, 'tis much to blame: They say, my lords, that ira furor brevis est* But yond' man's ever angry. Go, let him have a table by himself; For he does neither affect company, Nor is he fit for it, indeed. Apemantus. Let me stay at thine own peril, Timon: I come to observe; I give thee warning on't. Timon. I take no heed of thee; thou art an Athenian ; therefore welcome: I myself would have no power : pr'ythee, let my meat make thee silent. Apemantus. I scorn thy meat; 'twould choke me, for I should Ne'er flatter thee.—O you gods! what a number Of men eat Timon, and he sees them not! 4

Anger is a short madness.

510

TIMON OF ATHENS.

It grieves me to see so many dip their meat In one man's blood; and all the madness is, He cheers them up too.5 I wonder men dare trust themselves with men : Methinks they should invite them without knives; Good for their meat and safer for their lives. There's much example for't; the fellow, that Sits next him now, parts bread with him, and pledges The breath of him in a divided draught, Is the readiest man to kill him: it has been prov'd. If I Were a huge man, I should fear to drink at meals; Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous notes: Great men should drink with harness6 on their throats. Timon. My lord, in heart; 7 and let the health go round. 2 Lord. Let it flow this way, my good lord. Apemantus. Flow this way! A brave fellow S—he keeps his tides well. Timon, Those healths will make thee, and thy state, look ill. Here's that which is too weak to be a sinner, Honest water, which ne'er left man i' the mire: This, and my food, are equals; there's no odds, Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. APEMANTUS'S GRACE.

Immortal gods, I crave no pelf; I pray for no man but myself: Grant I may never prove so fond* To trust man on his oath or bond; Or a harlot for her weeping; Or a dog that seems a sleeping; Or a keeper with my freedom; Or my friends, if I should need 'em. Amen. So fall tot: Rich men sin, and I eat root. [Eats and drinks. Much good dich thy good heart, Apemantus J 5

The allusion is to a pack of hounds trained to pursuit, by being gratified with the blood of an animal which they kill; and the wonder is, that the animal, on which they are feeding, cheers them to the chase. tf 7 Armour. With sincerity, « Foolish.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

511

Timon. Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the field now. Alcibiades. My heart is ever at your service, my lord. Timon. You had rather be at a breakfast of enemies, than a dinner of friends. Alcibiades. So they were bleeding-new, my lord, there's no meat like them; I could wish my best friend at such a feast. Apemantus. 'Would ail those flatterers were thine enemies then; that then thou inightst kill 'em, and bid me to 'em. 1 Lord. Might we but have that happiness, my lord, that you would once use our hearts, whereby we might express some part of our zeals, we should think ourselves for ever perfect. Timon. O, no doubt, my good friends, but the gods themselves have provided that I shall have much help from you: How had you been my friends else? why have you that charitable title from thousands, did you not chiefly belong to my heart? I have told more of you to myself, than you can with modesty speak in your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you. O, you gods, think I, what need we have any friends, if we should never have need of them? they were the most needless creatures living, should we ne'er have use for them; and would most resemble sweet instruments hung up in cases, that keep their sounds to themselves. Why, I have often wished myself poorer, that I might come nearer to you. We are born to do benefits: and what better or properer can we call our own, than the riches of our friends ? O, what a precious comfort 'tis, to have so many, like brothers, commanding one another's fortunes! 6 joy, e'en made away ere it can be born! Mine eyes cannot hold out water, methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to you. Apemantus. Thou weepest to make them drink, Timon. 2 Lord. Joy had the like conception in our eyes. 3 Lord. I promise you, my lord, you mov'd me much.

512

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Apemantus. Much!9 [Tucket sounded. Timon. What means that trump?—How now? Enter a SERVANT. Servant. Please you, my lord, there are certain ladies most desirous of admittance. Timon. Ladies? what are their wills? Servant. There comes with them a forerunner, my lord, which bears that office, to signify their pleasures. Timon. I pray, let them be admitted. Enter CUPID. Cupid. Hail to thee, worthy Timon;—and to all That of his bounties taste!—The five best senses Acknowledge thee their patron; and come freely To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: The ear, Taste, touch, smell, all pleas'd from thy table rise; They only now come but to feast thine eyes. Timon. They are welcome all; let them have kind admittance: Musick, make their welcome. [Exit CUPID. 1 Lord. You see, my lord, how ample you are belov'd. Musick. Re-enter CUPID, with a Masque of LADIES as Amazons, with Lutes in their Hands, dancing and playing. Apemantus. Hey day, what a sweep of vanity comes this way! They dance! they are mad women. Like madness is the glory of this life, As this pomp shows to a little oil, and root. We make ourselves fools, to disport ourselves; And spend our flatteries. Who lives, that's not Depraved, or depraves? who dies, that bears Not one spurn to their graves of their friends' gift? I should fear, those, that dance before me now, 9

Much, was formerly an expression of contemptuous admiration.

TIMOX OF ATHENS.

513

Would one day stamp upon me: It has been done; Men shut their doors against a setting sun, The LORDS rise from Table with much adoring of TIMON ; and to show their Loves, each singles out an A mazon, and all dance, Men with Women, a lofty Straim or two to the Hautboys, and cease. Timon. You have done our pleasures much grace, fair ladies, Set a fair fashion on our entertainment, Which was not half so beautiful and kind; You have added worth unto't, and lively lustre, And entertained me with mine own device; I am to thank you for it. 1 Lady. My lord, you take us even at the best. Timon. Ladies, there is an idle banquet Attends you: Please you to dispose yourselves. All Ladies. Most thankfully, my lord. [Exeunt CUPID, and LADIES. Timon. Flavius, Flavins. My lord. Timon. The little casket bring me hither. Flavius. Yes, my lord.—More jewels yet! There is no crossing him in his humour; [Aside. Else I should tell him,—Well,—i' faith, I should, When all's spent, he'd be cross'd1 then, an he could. 5 Tis pity, bounty had not eyes behind; That man might ne'er be wretched for his mind.2 [Exit, and returns with tlie Casket. 1 Lord. Where be our men? Servant. Here, my lord, in readiness. 2 Lord. Our horses. Timon. O my friends, I have one word To say to you:—Look you, my good lord, I must Entreat you, honour me so much, as to Advance this jewel; Accept, and wear it, kind my lord. 1

Shakspeare plays on the word crossed; alluding to the piece of silver 2 For his nobleness of soul. money called a cross. VOL. IV, 2 L

514

TIMON OF ATHENS.

1 Lord. I am so far already in your gifts,— All. So are we all. Enter a SERVANT. Servant. My lord, there are certain nobles of the senate Newly alighted, and come to visit you. Timon. They are fairly welcome. Flavins. I beseech your honour, Vouchsafe me a word: it does concern you near. Timon. Near? why then another time 111 hear thee: I pr'ythee, let us be provided To show them entertainment. Flavius. I scarce know how. [Aside. Enter another SERVANT. 2 Servant. May it please your honour, the lord Lucius, Out of his free love, hath presented to you Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver. Timon. I shall accept them fairly: let the presents Enter a third SERVANT. Be worthily entertain'd.—How now, what news? 3 Servant. Please you, my lord, that honourable gentleman, lord Lucullus, entreats your company to-morrow to hunt with him; and has sent your honour two brace of greyhounds. Timon. I'll hunt with him; And let them be received, Not without fair reward. Flavius. [Aside.] What will this come to ? He commands us to provide, and give great gifts, And all out of an empty coffer.— Nor will he know his purse; or yield me this, To show him what a beggar his heart is, Being of no power to make his wishes good; His promises fly so beyond his state, That what he speaks is all in debt, he owes For every word; he is so kind, that he now

TIMON OF ATHENS.

515

Pays interest for't; his land's put to their books. Well, 'would I were gently put out of office, Before I were forc'd out! Happier is he that has no friend to feed, Than such as do even enemies exceed. I bleed inwardly for my lord. [Exit. Timon. You do yourselves Much wrong, you bate too much of your own merits: Here, my lord, a trifle of our love. 2 Lord. With more than common thanks I will receive it. 3 Lord. O, he is the very soul of bounty! Timon. And now I remember me, my lord, you gave Good words the other day of a bay courser I rode on: it is yours, because you lik'd it. 2 Lord. 1 beseech you, pardon me, my lord, in that. Timon. You may take my word, my lord; I know, no man Can justly praise, but what he does affect: I weigh my friend's affection with mine own: I'll tell you true. I'll call on you. All Lords. None so welcome. Timon. I take all and your several visitations So kind to heart, 'tis not enough to give; Methinks, I could deal kingdoms to my friends, And ne'er be weary,—Alcibiades, Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich, I t comes in charity to thee: for all thy living Is 'mongst the dead; and all the lands thou hast Lie in a pitch'd field. Alcibiades. Ay, defiled land, my lord. 1 Lord. We are so virtuously bound, Timon. And so Am I to you. 2 Lord. So infinitely endear'd, Timon. All to you.3—Lights, more lights. 1 Lord. The best of happiness, Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, lord Timon! 3

i. e. All happiness to you.

516

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Timon. Ready for his friends. [Eoceunt ALCIBIADES, LORDS, doc. Apemantus. What a coil's here! I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums That are given for 'em. Friendship's full of dregs: Methinks, false hearts should never have sound legs. Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on court'sies. Timon. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not sullen, I'd be good to thee. Apemantus. No, I'll nothing: for, If I should be brib'd too, there would be none left To rail upon thee; and then thou wouldst sin the faster, Thou giv'st so long, Timon, I fear me, thou Wilt give away thyself in paper shortly: What needs these feasts, pomps, and vain glories? Timon. Nay, An you begin to rail on society once, I am sworn, not to give regard to you. Farewell; and come with better musick* \Eodt. Apemantus. So;— Thou'lt not hear me now,—thou shalt not then, I'll lock Thy heaven4 from thee. O, that men's ears should be To counsel deaf, but not to flattery! [Exit

ACT II. SCENE

I.—A Room in a

SENATOR'S

House.

Enter a SENATOR, with Papers in his Hand. Senator. And late, five thousand to Varro; and to Isidore He owes nine thousand; besides my former sum, Which makes it five and twenty.—Still in motion Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog, And give it Timon, why, the clog coins gold : 4

By his heaven he means good advice.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

517

If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty more Better than he, why, give my horse to Tim on, Ask nothing, give it him, it fuals me, straight, And able horses: No porter at his gate; But rather one that smiles, and still invites All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason Can found his state in safety. Caphis, ho! Caphis, I say! Enter CAPHIS. Caphis. Here, sir; What is your pleasure? Senator. Get on your cloak, and haste you to lord Timon; Importune him for my monies: be not ceas'd5 With slight denial; nor then silenc'd, when— Commend me to your master—and the cap Plays in the right hand, thus:—but tell him, sirrah, My uses cry to me, I must serve my turn Out of mine own; his days and times are past, And my reliances on his fracted dates Have smit my credit: I love, and honour him; But must not break my back, to heal his finger. Immediate are my needs; and my relief Must not be toss'd and turn'd to me in words, But find supply immediate. Get you gone: Put on a most importunate aspect, A visage of demand; for, I do fear, When every feather sticks in his own wing, Lord Timon will be left a naked gull, Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone. Caphis. I go, sir. Senator. I go, sir?—take the bonds along with you, And have the dates in compt. Caphis. I will, sir. Senator. Go. [Exeunt. 5

Stopped.

5 J8

TIMON OF ATHENS.

SCENE

II.—A Hall in

TIMON'S

House.

Enter FLAVIUS, with many Bills in his Hand. Flavins. No care, no stop! so senseless of expense, That he will neither know how to maintain it, Nor cease his flow of riot: Takes no account How things go from him; nor resumes no care Of what is to continue: Never mind Was to be so unwise, to be so kind. What shall be done? He will not hear, till feel: I must be rovind with him now he comes from hunting

Fye,fye,fye,fye!

Enter C APHIS, and the SERVANTS of ISIDORE and VARRO. Caphis. Good even, Yarro: What, You come for money? Varrds Servant. Is't not your business too? Caphis. It is;—And yours too, Isidore ? Isidores Servant. I t is so, Caphis. 'Would we were all discharg'd! I fear it. Varro9s Servant. Caphis. Here comes the lord. Enter TIMON, ALCIBIADES, and LORDS, &C. Timon. So soon as dinner's done, we'll forth again, My Alcibiades.—With me? What's your will? Caphis. My lord, here is a note of certain dues. Timon. Dues? Whence are you? Caphis. Of Athens here, my lord. Timon. Go to my steward. Caphis. Please it your lordship, he hath put me off To the succession of new days this month: My master is awak'd by great occasion, To call upon his own; and humbly prays you, That with your other noble parts you'll suit, In giving him his right. Timon. Mine honest friend, I pr'ythee, but repair to me next morning.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

519

Caphis. Nay, good my lord, Timon. Contain thyself, good friend. Varrds Servant. One Varro's servant, my good lord,— Isidores Servant. From Isidore; He humbly prays your speedy payment, Caphis. If you did know, my lord, my master's wants, Varrds Servant. 'Twas due, on forfeiture, my lord, six weeks, And past, Isidore's Servant. Your steward puts me off, my lord; And I am sent expressly to your lordship. Timon. Give me breath: I do beseech you, good my lords, keep on; [Exeunt ALCIBIADES and LORDS. I'll wait upon you instantly.—Come hither, pray you. [To FLAVIUS.

How goes the world, that I am thus encounter'd With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds, And the detention of long-since-due debts, Against my honour? Flavius. Please you, gentlemen, The time is unagreeable to this business: Your importunacy cease, till after dinner; That I may make his lordship understand Wherefore you are not paid. Timon. Do so, my friends: See them well entertain'd. [Exit TIMON. Flavius. I pray, draw near. [Exit FLAVIUS. Enter

APEMANTUS

and a

FOOL.

Caphis. Stay, stay, here comes the fool with Apemantus ; let's have some sport with 'em. Varrds Servant. Hang him, he 11 abuse us. Isidores Servant A plague upon him, dog! Varrds Servant. How dost, fool? Apemantus. Dost dialogue with thy shadow? Varrds Servant. I speak not to thee.

520

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Apemantus. No; 'tis to thyself,—Come away. [To tlie FOOL. All Servants. What are we, Apemantus? Apemantus. Asses. All Servants. Why? Apemantus. That you ask me what you are, and do not know yourselves.—Speak to 'em, fool. Fool. How do you, gentlemen? All Servants. Gramercies, good fool: How does your mistress? Enter PAGE. Fool. Look you, here comes my mistress' page. Page. [To tlie FOOL.] Why, how now, captain? what do you in this wise company?—How dost thou, Apemantus ? Apemantus. 'Would I had a rod in my mouth, that I might answer thee profitably. Page. Pr'ythee, Apemantus, read me the superscription of these letters; I know not which is which. Apemantus. Canst not read? Page. No. Apemantus. There will little learning die then, that day thou art hanged. This is to lord Timon; this to Alcibiades. Go. Page. Answer not, I am gone. [Eodt PAGE. Apemantus. Even so thou out-run'st grace. Fool, I will go with you to lord Timon's. Fool. Will you leave me there? Apemantus. If Timon stay at home.—You three serve three usurers? All Servants. Ay; 'would they served us! Apemantus. So would I,—as good a trick as ever hangman served thief. Fool. Are you three usurers' men? All Servants. Ay, fool. Fool. I think, no usurer but has a fool to his servant! My mistress is one, and I am her fool. When men come to borrow of your masters, they approach sadly,

TIMON OF ATHENS.

521

and go away merry; but they enter my mistress' house merrily, and go away sadly. Yarrds Servant. Thou art not altogether a fool. Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man: as much foolery as I have, so much wit thou lackest. Apemantus. That answer might have become Apemantus. All Servants. Aside, aside; here comes lord Timon. Re-enter TIMON and FLAVIUS. Apemantus. Come with me, fool, come. Fool. I do not always follow lover, elder brother, and woman; sometime, the philosopher. [Exeunt APEMANTUS and FOOL. Flavius. 'Pray you, walk near; I'll speak with you anon. [Exeunt SERVANTS. Timon. You make me marvel: Wherefore, ere this time, Had you not fully laid my state before me; That I might so have rated my expense, As I had leave of means ? Flavius. You would not hear me. At many leisures I proposal. Timon. Go to: Perchance, some single vantages you took, When my indisposition put you back; And that unaptness made your minister, Thus to excuse yourself. Flavius. O my good lord ! At many times I brought in my accounts, Laid them before you; you would throw them off, And say, you found them in mine honesty. When, for some trifling present, you have bid me Return so much,6 I have shook my head, and wept; Yea, 'gainst the authority of manners, pray'd you To hold your hand more close: I did endure Not seldom, nor no blight checks: When I have Prompted you, in the ebb of your estate, c

A certain sum.

522

TIMON OP ATHENS.

And your great flow of debts.—My dear-lov'd lord, Though you hear now, (too late!) yet now's a time, The greatest of your having lacks a half To pay your present debts. Timon. Let all my land be sold. Flavins. 'Tis all engag'd, some forfeited and gone; And what remains will hardly stop the mouth Of present dues: the future comes apace : What shall defend the interim? and at length How goes our reckoning ? Timon. To Lacedsemon did my land extend. Flavins. O my good lord, the world is but a word; Were it all yours to give it in a breath, How quickly were it gone? You tell me true. Timon. Flavins. If you suspect my husbandry, or falsehood, Call me before the exactest auditors, And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, When all our offices7 have been oppress'd With riotous feeders; when our vaults have wept With drunken spilth of wine; when every room Hath blaz'd with lights, and bray'd with minstrelsy; I have retir'd me to a wasteful cock, And set mine eyes at flow. Timon. Pr'ythee, no more. Flavins. Heavens, have I said, the bounty of this lord! How many prodigal bits have slaves, and peasants, This night englutted! Who is not Timon\s? What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is lord Timon's ? Great Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon? Ah! when the means are gone, that buy this praise, The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: Feast-won fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers, These flies are couch'd. Timon. Come, sermon me no further: No villainous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. Why dost thou weep? canst thou the conscience lack, 7

The apartments allotted to culinary offices, &c.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

523

To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy heart; If I would broach the vessels of my love, And try the argument of hearts by borrowing, Men, and men's fortunes, could I frankly use, As I can bid thee speak. Flavins. Assurance bless your thoughts! Timon. And in some sort, these wants of mine are crown'd,8 That I account them blessings; for by these Shall I try friends: You shall perceive, how you Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my friends Within there, ho!—Flaminius, Servilius! Enter FLAMINIUS, SERVILIUS, and other SERVANTS, Servilius. My lord, my lord,— Timon. I will despatch you severally.—You, to lord Lucius.— To lord Lucullus you; I hunted with his Honour to-day;—You to Sempronius; Commend me to their loves; and, I am proud, say, That my occasions have found time to use them Toward a supply of money : let the request Be fifty talents. Flaminius. As you have said, my lord. Flavins. Lord Lucius, and lord Lucullus? humph! [Aside. Timon. Go you, sir [To another Servant^] to the senators, (Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have Deserv'd this hearing,] bid 'em send o' the instant A thousand talents to me. Flavins. I have been bold, (For that I knew it the most general way,) To them to use your signet, and your name; But they do shake their heads, and I am here No richer in return. Timon. Is't true? can it be? Flavins. They answer, in a joint and corporate voice, That now they are at fall, want treasure, cannot 8

Dignified, made respectable.

524

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Do what they would; are sorry—you are honourable,— But yet they could have wish'd—they know not—but Something hath been amiss—a noble nature May catch a wrench—would all were well—'tis pity— And so, intending9 other serious matters, After distasteful looks, and these hard fractions, With certain half-caps,1 and cold-moving nods, They froze me into silence. Timon. You gods, reward them!—: I pr'ythee, man, look cheerly; These old fellows Have their ingratitude in them hereditary: Their blood is cak'd, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; 'Tis lack of kindly warmth, they are not kind; And nature, as it grows again toward earth, Is fashion'd for the journey, dull, and heavy.— Go to Ventidius, [To a SERVANT.] 'Pr'ythee [To FLAVIUS,] be not

sad,

Thou art true, and honest; ingeniously2 I speak, No blame belongs to thee. [To Serva7tt^\ Ventidius lately Buried his father: by whose death, he's stepp'd Into a great estate: when he was poor, Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, I clear'd him with five talents; Greet him from me; Bid him suppose, some good necessity Touches his friend, which craves to be remember'd With those five talents:—that had, [To FLAVIUS,] give it these fellows, To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or think, That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can sink. Flavius. I would I could not think it; that thought is bounty's foe; Being free3 itself, it thinks all others so. [Exeunt 9 1 2

Intending had anciently the same meaning as attending. A half-cap is a cap slightly moved, not put off. 3 For ingenuously. Liberal, not parsimonious.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

525

ACT I I I . SCENE

I.—A Boom in

LUCULLUS'S

House.

ivaiting. Enter a SERVANT to him. Servant. I have told my lord of you; he is coming down to you. Flaminius. I thank you, sir. FLAMINIUS

Enter LUCULLUS. Servant. Here's my lord. Lucidlus. [Aside^\ One of lord Timon's men? a gift, I warrant. Why this hits right: I dreamt of a silver bason and ewer to-night. Flaminius, honest Flaminius; you are very respectively4 welcome, sir.—Fill me some wine.—\Exit SERVANT.] And how does that honourable, complete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, thy very bountiful good lord and master? Flaminius. His health is well, sir. Lucullus. I am right glad that his health is well, sir. And what hast thou there, under thy cloak, pretty Flaminius ? Flaminius. 'Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; which, in my lord's behalf, I come to entreat your honour to supply; who, having great and instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent to your lordship to furnish him; nothing doubting your present assistance therein, Lucullus. La, la, la, la,—nothing doubting, says he? alas, good lord! a noble gentleman 'tis, if he would not keep so good a house. Many a time and often I have din'd with him, and told him on't; and come again to supper to him, of purpose to have him spend less; and yet he would embrace no counsel, take no warning by my coming. Every man has his fault, and honesty5 is his; I have told him on't, but I could never get him from it. 4

For respectfully.

5

Honesty here means liberality.

52Q

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Re-enter SEKVANT with Wine. Servant Please your lordship, here is the wine. Lucullus. Flaminius, I have noted thee always wise. Here's to thee. Flaminius. Your lordship speaks your pleasure. Lucullus. I have observed thee always for a towardly prompt spirit,—give thee thy due,—and one that knows what belongs to reason; and canst use the time well, if the time use thee well: good parts in thee.—Get you gone, sirrah.—[To the SERVANT, who goes out]—Draw nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord's a bountiful gentleman: but thou art wise; and thou knowest well enough, although thou comest to me, that this is no time to lend money; especially upon bare friendship, without security. Here's three solidares for thee; good boy, wink at me and say, thou sawest me not. Fare thee well. Flaminius. Is't possible, the world should so much differ; And we alive, that liv'd? Fly, damned baseness, To him that worships thee. [Throwing the money away Lucullus. Ha, now I see thou art a fool, and fit for thy master. [Exit LUCULLUS. Flaminius. May these add to the number that may scald thee! Thou disease of a friend, and not himself! Has friendship such a faint and milky heart, It turns in less than two nights? O, you gods, I feel my master's passion!6 This slave Unto his honour, has my lord's meat in him: Why should it thrive, and turn to nutriment, When he is turn'd to poison? O, may diseases only work upon't! And, when he is sick to death, let not that part of nature Which my lord paid for, be of any power To expel sickness, but prolong his hour! [Exit. 6

Suffering.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

SCENE

527

II.—A publick Place.

Enter Lucius, with three STRANGERS. Lucius. Who, the lord Thnon? he is my very good friend, and an honourable gentleman. 1 Stranger. We know him for no less, though we are but strangers to him. But I can tell you one thing, my lord, and which I hear from common rumours; now lord Timon's happy hours are done and past, and his estate shrinks from him. Lucius. Fye, no, do not believe it: he cannot want for money. 2 Stranger. But believe you this, my lord, that not long ago, one of his men was with the lord Lucullus, to borrow so many talents; nay, urged extremely for't, and show'd what necessity belong'd to't, and yet was denied. Lucius. How? 2 Stranger. I tell you, denied, my lord. Lucius. What a strange case was that? now, before the gods, I am asham'd on't. Denied that honourable man? there was very little honour show'd in't. For my own part, I must needs confess, I have received some small kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, and such like trifles, nothing comparing to his; yet, had he mistook him, and sent to me, I should ne'er have denied his occasion so many talents. Enter SERVILIUS. Servilius. See, by good hap, yonder's my lord; I have sweat to see his honour.—My honoured lord.— [To Lucius. Lucius. Servilius! your are kindly met, sir. Fare thee well:—Commend me to thy honourable-virtuous lord, my very exquisite friend. Servilius. May it please your honour, my lord hath sent Lucius. Ha! what has he sent ? I am so much en-1

528

TIMON OF ATHENS.

deared to that lord; he's ever sending: How shall I thank him, thinkest thou? And what has he sent now? Servilius. He has only sent his present occasion now, my lord; requesting your lordship to supply his instant use with so many talents. Lucius. I know, his lordship is but merry with me; He cannot want fifty-five hundred talents. Servilius. But in the mean time he wants less, my lord. If his occasion were not virtuous, I should not urge it half so faithfully. Lucius. Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? Servilius. Upon my soul, 'tis true, sir. Lucius. What a wicked beast was I, to disfurnish myself against such a good time, when I might have shown myself honourable! how unluckily it happened, that I should purchase the day before for a little part, and undo a great deal of honour!—Servilius, now, before the gods, I am not able to do't; the more beast, I say:—I was sending to use lord Timon myself, these gentlemen can witness; But I would not for the wealth of Athens, I had done it now. Commend me bountifully to his good lordship; and I hope, his honour will conceive the fairest of me, because I have no power to be kind: And tell him this from me, I count it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. Good Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as to use mine own words to him? Servilius. Yes, sir, I shall. Lucius. I will look you out a good turn, Servilius.— [Exit SEKVILIUS. True, as you said, Timon is shrunk, indeed; And he, that's once denied, will hardly speed. [Exit Lucius, 1 Stranger. Do you observe this, Hostilius? 2 Stranger. Ay, too well. 1 Stranger. Why this Is the world's soul; and just of the same piece Is every flatterer's spirit. In my knowing, The noble Timon has been this lord's father,

TIMON OF ATHENS.

529

And kept his credit with his purse; Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money Has paid his men their wages; He ne'er drinks, But Timon's silver treads upon his lip; And yet, (O, see the monstrousness of man When he looks out in an ungrateful shape!) He does deny him, in respect of his, What charitable men afford to beggars. 3 Stranger. Religion groans at it. 1 Stranger. For mine own part, I never tasted Timon in my life, Nor came any of his bounties over me, To mark me for his friend; yet, I protest, For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue And honourable carriage, Had his necessity made use of me, I would have put my wealth into donation, And the best half should have return'd to him, So much I love his heart: But, I perceive, Men must learn now with pity to dispense: For policy sits above conscience, [Exeunt SCENE

III.—A Room in SEMPRONIUS'S House.

Enter SEMPRONIUS, and a SERVANT of TIMON'S. Sempronius. Must he needs trouble me in't? 'Bove all others? He might have tried lord Lucius, or Lucullus; And now Ventidius is wealthy too, Whom he redeem'd from prison: All these three Owe their estates unto him. Servant. O my lord, They have all been touch'd, and found base metal; for They have all denied him! Sempronius. How! have they denied him ? Has Ventidius and Lucullus denied him? And does he send to me? Three? humph!— I t shows but little love or judgment in him. Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like physicians, VOL. iv. 2M

530

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Thrive, He That might have known my place: But his occasions might have woo'd me first; For, in my conscience, I was the first man That e'er received gift from him : And does he think so backwardly of me now, That I'll requite it last? No: So it may prove An argument of laughter to the rest, And I amongst the lords be thought a fool. I had rather than the worth of thrice the sum, He had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake; I had such a courage to do him good. But now return, And with their faint reply this answer join; Who bates mine honour shall not know my coin. [Eorit. Servant. Excellent! Your lordship's a goodly villain. The devil knew not what he did, when he made man politick; he cross'd himself by't: and I cannot think, but in the end, the villainies of man will set him clear. How fairly this lord strives to appear foul! takes virtuous copies to be wicked; like those that, under hot ardent zeal, would set whole realms on fire. Of such a nature is his politick love. This was my lord's best hopes; now all are fled, Save the gods only: Now his friends are dead, Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their wards Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd Now to guard sure their master. And this is all a liberal course allows; Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his house. [Exit. SCENE

IV.—A Hall in TIMON'S House.

Enter two SERVANTS of YARRO, and tlie SERVANT of Lucius, meeting TITUS, HORTENSIUS, andother SERVANTS to TIMON'S Creditors, waiting his coming out. Varrds Servants. Well met; good morrow, Titus and Hortensius.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

531

Titus. The like to you, kind Varro. Hortensius. Lucius ? What, do we meet together? Lucius Servant Ay, and, I think, One business does command us all; for mine Is money. Titus. So is theirs and ours. Eider PHILOTUS. Lucius Servant. And sir Philotus too! Philotus. Good day at once. Lucius Servant. Welcome, good brother. What do you think the hour? Philotus. Labouring for nine. Lucius' Se7*vant. So much? Philotus. Is not my lord seen yet? Lucius' Servant. Not yet. Philotus. I wonder on't: he was wont to shine at seven. Lucius'* Servant. Ay, but the days are waxed shorter with him: You must consider, that a prodigal course Is like the sun's; but not, like his, recoverable. I fear, 'Tis deepest winter in lord Timon's purse; That is, one may reach deep enough, and yet Find little. Philotus. I am of your fear for that. Titus. I'll show you how to observe a strange event. Your lord sends now for money. Hortensius. Most true, he does. Titus. And he wears jewels now of Timon's gift, For which I wait for money. Hortensius. It is against my heart. Lucius Servant. Mark, how strange it shows, Timon in this should pay more than he owes; And e'en as your lord should wear rich jewels, And send for money for 'em.

532

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Hortensius. I am weary of this charge, the gods can witness: I know, my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth, And now ingratitude makes it worse than stealth, 1 Varro's Servant Yes, mine's three thousand crowns : "What's yours? Lucius" Servant. Five thousand mine. 1 Varro's Servant. 'Tis much deep: and it should seem by the sum, Your master's confidence was above mine; Else, surely his had equall'd. Enter FLAMINIUS. Titus. One of lord Timon's men, Lucius Servant. Flaminius! sir, a word: Tray, is my lord ready to come forth? Flaminius. No, indeed, he is not. Titus. We attend his lordship; 'pray, signify so much. Flaminius. I need not tell him that: he knows, you are too diligent. [Exit FLAMINIUS. Enter FLAVIUS in a cloak, muffled. Lucius' Servant. Ha! is not that his steward muffled so? He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him. Titus. Do you hear, sir? 1 Varro's Servant. By your leave, sir, Flavius. What do you ask of me, my friend? Titus. We wait for certain money here, sir, Flavius. Ay, If money were as certain as your waiting, 'Twere sure enough. Why then preferr'd you not Your sums and bills, when your false masters eat Of my lord's meat? Then they could smile, and fawn Upon his debts, and take down th' interest Into their gluttonous maws. You do yourselves but wrong, To stir me up; let me pass quietly:

T1M0N OF ATHENS.

533

Believ't, my lord and I have made an end: I have no more to reckon, he to spend. Lucius Servant Ay, but this answer will not serve. Flavius. If 'twill not, 'Tis not so base as you; for you serve knaves. [Exit 1 Varrds Servant. How! what does his cashiered worship mutter? 2 Varrds Servant No matter what; he's poor, and that's revenge enough. Who can speak broader than he that has no house to put his head in? such may rail against great buildings. Enter SERVILIUS. Titus. O, here's Servilius; now we shall know Some answer. Servilius. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, To repair some other hour, I should much Derive from it: for, take it on my soul, My lord leans wond'rously to discontent. His comfortable temper has forsook him; He is much out of health, and keeps his chamber. Lucius Servant. Many do keep their chambers, are not sick: And, if it be so far beyond his health, Methinks, he should the sooner pay his debts, And make a clear way to the gods. Servilius. Good gods! Titus. We cannot take this for an answer, sir. Flaminius. [ Within.] Servilius, help!—my lord ! my lord!— Enter TIMON, in a rage; FLAMINIUS folloiving. Timon. What, are my doors oppos'd against my passage ? Have I been ever free, and must my house Be my retentive enemy, my gaol? The place, which I have feasted, does it now, Like all mankind, show me an iron heart? Lucius' Servant Put in now, Titus.

534

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Titus. My lord, here is my bill. Lucius' Servant. Here's mine. Hortensius' Servant. And mine, my lord. Both Varro's Servants. And ours; my lord. Philotus. All our bills. Timon. Knock me down with 'em: 7 cleave me to the girdle. Lucius' Servant. Alas! my lord, Timon. Cut my heart in sums. Titus. Mine, fifty talents. Timon. Tell out my blood. Lucius' Servant. Five thousand crowns, my lord. Timon. Five thousand drops pays that.*— What yours?—and yours? 1 Varies Servant. My lord, 2 Varrds Servant. My lord, Timon. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall upon you! [Exit. Hortensius. 'Faith, I perceive our masters may throw their caps at their money; these debts may well be called desperate ones, for a madman owes 'em. [JExeunt Re-enter TIMON and

FLAVIUS.

Timon. They have e'en put my breath from me, the slaves: Creditors!—devils. Flavius. My dear lord, Timon. What if it should be so? Flavius. My lord, Timon. I'll have it so:—My steward! Flavius. Here, my lord. Timon. So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again, Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius; all: I'll once more feed the rascals. Flavius. 0 my lord, You only speak from your distracted soul; 7

Timon quibbles. They present their written bills; he catches at the vord, and alludes to bills, or battle-axes.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

535

There is not so much left to furnish out A moderate table. Timon. Be't not in thy care; go, I charge thee; invite them all: let in the tide Of knaves once more; my cook and I'll provide. [Exeunt SCENE

V.—T7ie Senate-House.

The Senate sitting. Enter ALCIBIADES, attended. 1 Senator. My lord, you have my voice to it; the fault's Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die: Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. 2 Senator. Most true; the law shall bruise him. Alcibiades. Honour, health, and compassion to the senate! 1 Senator. Now, captain? Alcibiades. I am an humble suitor to your virtues; For pity is the virtue of the law, And none but tyrants use it cruelly. It pleases time, and fortune, to lie heavy Upon a friend of mine, who in hot blood, Hath stepped into the law, which is past depth To those that, without heed, do plunge into it. He is a man, setting his fate aside, Of comely virtues: Nor did he soil the fact with cowardice; (An honour in him which buys out his fault,) But, with a noble fury, and fair spirit, Seeing his reputation touched to death, He did oppose his foe: And with such sober and unnoted passion He did behave8 his anger, ere 'twas spent, As if he had but prov'd an argument. 1 Senator. You undergo too strict a paradox, Striving to make an ugly deed look fair; Your words have took such pains, as if they labour'd To bring manslaughter into form, set quarrelling 8

Manage, govern.

536

TIMOtf OF ATHENS,

Upon the head of vaiour; which, indeed, Is valour misbegot, and came into the world When sects and factions were newly born: He's truly valiant, that can wisely suffer The worst that man can breathe; and make his wrongs His outsides; wear them like his raiment, carelessly; And ne'er prefer his injuries to his heart To bring it into danger. If wrongs be evils and enforce us kill, What folly 'tis to hazard life for ill? Alcibiades. My lord, 1 Senator. You cannot make gross sins look clear; To revenge is no valour, but to bear. Alcibiades. My lords, then, under favour, pardon me, If I speak like a captain. Why do fond men expose themselves to battle, And not endure all threatenings ? sleep upon it, And let the foes quietly cut their throats, Without repugnancy ? but if there be Such valour in the bearing, what make we Abroad? why then, women are more valiant, That stay at home, if bearing carry i t ; And th' ass, more captain than the lion; the felon, Loaden with irons, wiser than the judge, If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords, As you are great, be pitifully good: Who cannot condemn rashness in cold blood? To kill, I grant, is sin's extremest gust; 9 But, in defence, by mercy, 'tis most just. To be in anger, is impiety; But who is man, that is not angry? Weigh but the crime with this. 2 Senator. You breathe in vain. Alcibiades. In vain? his service done At Lacedaemon, and Byzantium, Were a sufficient briber for his life. 1 Senator. What's that? Alcidiades. Why, I say, my lords, h'as done fair service, 9

For aggravation.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

537

And slain in fight many of your enemies: How full of valour did he bear himself In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds? 2 Senator. He has made too much plenty with 'em, he Is a sworn rioter; h'as a sin that often Drowns him, ana takes his valour prisoner: If there were no foes, that were enough alone To overcome him: in that beastly fury He has been known to commit outrages, And cherish factions: 'Tis inferred to us, His days are foul, and his drink dangerous. 1 Senator. He dies. Alcibiacles. Hard fate! he might have died in war. My lords, if not for any parts in him, (Though his right arm might purchase his own time, A_nd be in debt to none,) yet more to move you, Take my deserts to his, and join them both: And, for I know, your reverend ages love Security, I'll pawn my victories, all My honour to you, upon his good returns. If by this crime he owes the law his life, Why, let the war receive't in valiant gore; For law is strict, and war is nothing more. 1 Senator. We are for law, he dies; urge it no more, On height of our displeasure: Friend, or brother, He forfeits his own blood, that spills another. Alcibiacles. Must it be so? it must not be. My lords, I do beseech you, know me. 2 Senator. How? Alcibiades, Call me to your remembrances. 3 Senator. Wliat? Alcibiades. I cannot think, but your age has forgot me; It could not else be, I should prove so base1 To sue, and be denied such common grace: My wounds ache at you. 1 Senator. Do you dare our anger? 'Tis in few words, but spacious in effect; We banish thee for ever. 1

For dishonoured.

538

TIMON OP ATHENS.

Alcihiades. Banish me? Banish your dotage; banish usury, That makes the senate ugly. 1 Senator. If, after two days'shine, Athens contain thee, Attend our weightier judgment. And, not to swell our spirit, He shall be executed presently. [Exeunt SENATORS. Alcibiades. Now the gods keep you old enough: that you may live Only in bone, that none may look on you! I am worse than mad: I have kept back their foes, While they have told their money, and let out Their coin upon large interest; I myself, Rich only in large hurts;—All those, for this? Is this the balsam, that the usuring senate Pours into captains' wounds ? ha! banishment ? It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd; It is a cause worthy my spleen and fury, That I may strike at Athens. I'll cheer up My discontented troops, and lay for hearts,2 'Tis honour, with most lands to be at odds; Soldiers should brook as little wrongs, as gods. [Eorii. SCENE

VI.—A magnificent Room in

TIMON'S

House.

Musick.

Tables set out: Servants attending. Enter divers LORDS, at several Doors. 1 Lord. The good time of day to you, sir. 2 Lord. I also wish it to you. I think, this honourable lord did but try us this other day. 1 Lord. Upon that were my thoughts tiring, 3 when we encountered: I hope it is not so low with him, as he made it seem in the trial of his several friends. 2 Lord. I t should not be, by the persuasion of his new feasting. 1 Lord. I should think so: He hath sent me an 2

We should now say—lay out for hearts; i. e. the affections of the people. 3 To tire on a thing meant to be idly employed on it.

T1M0N OF ATHENS.

539

earnest inviting, which many my near occasions did urge me to put off; but he hath conjured me beyond them, and I must needs appear. 2 Lord. In like manner was I in debt to my importunate business, but he would not hear my excuse. I am sorry, when he sent to borrow of me, that my provision was out. 1 Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I understand how all things go. 2 Lord. Every man here's so. What would he have borrowed of you 1 1 Lord. A thousand pieces. 2 Lord. A thousand pieces! 1 Lord. What of you? 3 Lord. He sent to me, sir—Here he comes. Enter TIMON, and Attendants. Timon. With all my heart, gentlemen both:—And how fare you ? 1 Lord. Ever at the best, hearing well of your lordship. 2 Lord. The swallow follows not summer more willing than we your lordship. Timon. \Aside^\ Nor more willingly leaves winter; such summer-birds are men.—Gentlemen, our dinner will not recompense this long stay: feast your ears with the musick awhile; if they will fare so harshly on the trumpet's sound: we shall to't presently. 1 Lord. I hope it remains not unkindly with your lordship, that I returned you an empty messenger. Timon. O, sir, let it not trouble you. 2 Lord. My noble lord, Timon. Ah, my good friend, what cheer? [The Banquet brought in. 2 Lord. My most honourable lord, I am e'en sick of shame, that, when your lordship this other day sent to me, I was so unfortunate a beggar. Timon. Think not on't, sir. 2 Lord. If you had sent but two hours before,—

540

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Timon. Let it not cumber your better remembrance. —Come, bring in all together. 2 Lord. All covered dishes! 1 Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you. 3 Lord. Doubt not that, if money and the season can yield it. 1 Lord. How do you? what's the news? 3 Lord. Alcibiades is banished: Hear you of it? 1 & 2 Lord. Alcibiades banished! 3 Lord. 'Tis so, be sure of it. 1 Lord. How? how? 2 Lord. I pray you, upon what? Timon. My worthy friends, will you draw near? 3 Lord. I'll tell you more anon. Here's a noble feast toward. 2 Lord. This is the old man still. 3 Lord. WilTt hold? will't hold? 2 Lord. It does: but time will—and so 3 Lord. I do conceive. Timon. Each man to his stool, with that spur as he would to the lip of his mistress : your diet shall be in all places alike. Make not a city feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree upon the first place: Sit, sit. The gods require our thanks. You great benefactors, sprinkle our society with thanksfulness. For your own gifts, make yourselves praised: but reserve still to give, lest your deities be despised. Lend to each man enough, that one need not lend to anotlier: for, were your godheads to borrow of men, men wouldfor* sake the gods. Make the meat be beloved, more than the man that gives it. Let no assembly of twenty be without a score of villains: If there sit twelve women at tlte table, let a dozen of them be—as they are.—The rest of your fees, 0 gods,—the senators of Athens, togeitier with the common lag* of people,—what is amiss in them, you gods make suitable for destruction. For these my present 4

The lowest.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

541

friends,—as they are to me not hint/, so in nothing bless them, and, to nothing they are welcome. Uncover, dogs, and lap. [The dishes uncovered are full of warm water. Some speak What does his lordship mean ? Some other. I know not. Timon. May you a better feast never behold, You knot of mouth-friends! smoke, and luke-warm water Is your perfection. This is Timon's last; Who stuck and spangled you with flatteries, Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces [Throwing ivater in their faces. Your reeking villainy. Live loath'd, and long, Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites, Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek bears, You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's flies, Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute-jacks!5 Of man and beast, the infinite malady Crust you quite o'er!—What, dost thou go? Soft, take thy physick first—thou too,—and thou ;—[Throws the dishes at them, and drives them out. Stay, I will lend thee money, borrow none.— What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast, Whereat a villain's not a welcome guest. Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated be Of Timon, man, and all humanity! [Exit. Re-enter the LORDS, with other LORDS and Senators. 1 Lord. How now, my lordsi 2 Lord. Know you the quality of lord Timon's fury? 3 Lord. Pish! did you see my cap? 4 Lord. I have lost my gown. 3 Lord. He's but a mad lord, and nought but humour sways him. He gave me a jewel the other day and now he has beat it out of my hat:—Did you see my jewel? 4 Lord. Did you see my cap ? 2 Lord. Here 'tis. 4

Jacks of the clock; like those of St. Dunstan's church, in Fleet-street.

542

TIMON OF ATHENS.

4- Lord. Here lies my gown. 1 Lord. Let's make no stay. 2 Lord. Lord Tiinon's mad. 3 Lord. I feel't upon my bones. 4 Lord. One day lie gives us diamonds, next day, stones. [Exeunt. ACT IV. I.— Without Hue Walls ( / A T H E N S . Enter TIMON. Timon. Let me look back upon thee, O thou wall, That girdlest in those wolves! Dive in the earth, And fence not Athens! Matrons, turn incontinent! Obedience fail in children! slaves, and fools, Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the bench, And minister in their steads! bankrupts, hold fast; Rather than render back! out with your knifes, And cut your trusters' throats! bound servants, steal! Large-handed robbers your grave masters are; Son of sixteen, Pluck the lin'd crutch from the old limping sire, With it beat out his brains! piety, and fear, Religion to the gods, peace, justice, truth, Domestick awe, night-rest, and neighbourhood, Instruction, manners, mysteries, and trades, Degrees, observances, customs, and laws, Decline to your confounding contraries, And yet confusion live!—Plagues, incident to men, Your potent and infectious fevers heap On Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica, Cripple our senators, that their limbs may halt As lamely as their manners! breath infect breath; That their society, as their friendship, may Be merely poison! Nothing I'll bear from thee, But nakedness, thou detestable town! Take thou that too, with multiplying banns !6 Timon will to the woods; where he shall find SCENE

6

Accumulated curses.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

543

The unkindest beast more kinder than mankind. The gods confound (hear me, ye good gods all) The Athenians both within and out that wall! And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may grow To the whole race of mankind, high and low! [Exit. A Room in TIMON'S House. Enter FLAVIUS, with two or three SERVANTS. 1 Servant. Hear you, master steward, where's our master? Are we undone? cast off? nothing remaining? Flavius. Alack, my fellows, what should I say to you? Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, I am as poor as you. 1 Servant. Such a house broke! So noble a master fallen! All gone! and not One friend, to take his fortune by the arm, And go along with him! 2 Servant. As we do turn our backs From our companion, thrown into his grave So his familiars to his buried fortunes Slink all away; leave their false vows with him, Like empty purses pick'd: and his poor self, A dedicated beggar to the air, With his disease of all-shunn'd poverty, Walks, like contempt, along.— More of our fellows. SCENE II.—ATHENS.

Enter other SERVANTS. Flavius. All broken implements of a ruin'd house. 3 Servant. Yet do our hearts wear Timon's livery, That see I by our faces; we are fellows still, Serving alike in sorrow: Leak'd is our bark; And we, poor mates, stand on the dying deck, Hearing the surges threat; we must all part Into this sea of air. Flavius. Good fellows all, The latest of my wealth I'll share amongst you. Wherever we shall meet, for Timon's sake,

544

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Let's yet be fellows; let's shake our heads, and say, As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes, We have seen better days. Let each take some; [Giving them money. Nay, put out all your hands. Not one word more : Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting poor. [Exeunt SERVANTS. 7 O, the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt, Since riches point to misery and contempt? Who'd be so mock'd with glory? or to live But in a dream of friendship? To have his pomp, and all what state compounds, But only painted like his varnish'd friends? Poor honest lord, brought low by his own heart; Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood,8 When man's worst sin is, he does too much good! Who then dares to be half so kind again? For bounty, that makes gods, does still mar men. My dearest lord,—bless'd to be most accurs'd, Rich, only to be wretched;—thy great fortunes Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind lord! He's flung in rage from this ungrateful seat Of monstrous friends: nor has he with him to Supply his life, or that which can command it. I'll follow, and inquire him out; I'll serve his mind with my best will; [Exit. Whilst I have gold, I'll be his steward still. SCENE

III.—The Woods.

Enter TIMOK Timon. O blessed breeding sun, draw from the earth Rotten humidity; below thy sister's orb Infect the air! Twinn'd brothers of one womb Whose procreation, residence, and birth, Scarce is dividant,—touch them with several fortunes • The greater scorns the lesser: Not nature, 7

Hasty, precipitate.

8

Propensity, disposition.

T1M0N OF ATHENS.

545

To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great fortune, But by9 contempt of nature. Raise me this beggar, and denude that lord; The senator shall bear contempt hereditary, The beggar native honour. I t is the pasture lards the brother's sides, The want that makes him lean. Who dares, who dares, In purity of manhood stand upright, And say. This man's a flatterer? If one be, So are they all; for every grize of fortune Is smooth'd by that below: the learned pate Ducks to the golden fool: All is oblique; There's nothing level in our cursed natures, But direct villainy. Therefore be abhorr'd All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! His semblable, yea, himself, Timon disdains: Destruction fans:1 mankind!—Earth, yield me roots! {Digging. Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palate With thy most operant poison! What is here! Gold? yellow, glittering, precious gold? No, gods, I ain no idle votarist. Roots, you clear heavens! Thus much of this, will make black, white; foul, fair; Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, valiant. Ha, you gods! why this? What this, you gods ? Why this Will lug your priests and servants from your sides; Pluck stout men's pillows from below their heads: This yellow slave Will knit and break religions; bless the accurs'd; Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves, And give them title, knee, and approbation, With senators on the bench: this is it, That makes the wappen'd2 widow wed again; [March afar off]—Ha? a dram?—Thou'rt quick, But yet I'll bury thee: Thou'lt go, strong thief, When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand:— Nay, stay thou out for earnest. [Keeping some Gold. 9

But by is here used for zcithout. VOL. IV.

1

Seize, gripe.

2

Sorrowful. 2 N

54:6

Enter

TTMON OF ATHENS. ALCIBIADES,

with Drum and Fife, in warlike manner. What art thou there?

Alcibiades. Speak. Timon. A. beast, as thou art. The canker gnaw thy heart, For showing me again the eyes of man! Alcibiades. What is thy name? Is man so hateful to thee, That art thyself a man ? Timon. I am misanthropos, and hate mankind. For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog, That I might love thee something. Alcibiades. I know thee well: But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange. Timon. I know thee too; and more, than that I know thee, I not desire to know. Follow thy drum; With man's blood paint the ground, gules, gules: Religious canons, civil laws are cruel; Then what should war be? A Icibiades. How came the noble Timon to this change ? Timon. As the moon does, by wanting light to give : But then renew I could not, like the moon; That were no suns to borrow of. Alcibiades. Noble Timon, What friendship may I do thee? Timon. None, but to Maintain my opinion. Alcibiades. What is it, Timon? Timon. Promise me friendship, but perform none: If Thou wilt not promise, the gods plague thee, for Thou art a man! if thou dost perform, confound thee, For thouVfc a man! Alcibiades. I have heard in some sort of thy miseries. Timon. Thou saw'st them, when I had prosperity. Alcibiades. I see them now: then was a blessed time. I have but little gold of late, brave Timon,

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The want whereof doth daily make revolt In my penurious band; I have heard, and griev'd, How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour states, But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon them,— Timon. I pr'ythee, beat thy drum, and get thee gone. Alcibiades. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear Timon. Timon. How dost thou pity him, whom thou dost trouble? I had rather be alone. Alcibiades. Why, fare thee well: Here's some gold for thee. Timon. Keep't, I cannot eat it. Alcibiades. When I have laid proud Athens on a heap, Timon. Warr'st thou against Athens? Alcibiades. Ay, Timon, and have causo. Timon. The gods confound them all i' thy conquest; and Thee after, when thou hast conquered! Alcibiades. Why me, Timon? Timon. That By killing villains, thou wast born to conquer My country. Put up thy gold: Go on,—here's gold,—go on ; Be as a planetary plague, when Jove Will o'er some high-vie'd city hang his poison In the sick air: Let not thy sword skip one: Pity not honoured age for his white beard, He's an usurer: Strike me the counterfeit matron; I t is her habit only that is honest. Let not the virgin's cheek Make soft thy trenchant 3 sword; spare not the babe, Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their mercy; Think it a bastard,4 whom the oracle Hath doubtfully pronounc'd thy throat shall cut. And mince it sans remorse : 5 Swear against objects :G 3 5

Cutting. Without pity.

4 6

An allusion to the tale of (Edipus. i. e. Against objects of charity and compassion.

518

TIMOX OF ATHENS.

Put armour on thine ears, and on thine eyes; Whose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor babes, Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, Shall pierce a jot. There's gold to pay thy soldiers. Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent, Confounded be thyself! speak not, be gone. Alcibiades. Hast thou gold yet? I l l take the gold thou giv'st me! Not all thy counsel. Timon. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's curse upon thee! Alcibiades. Strike up the drum towards Athens. Farewell, Timon 1 If I thrive well, I'll visit thee again. Timon. If I hope well, I'll never see thee more. Alcibiades. I never did thee harm. Timon. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. Alcibiades. Call'st thou that harm] Timon. Men daily find it such. Get thee away. Alcibiades. We but offend him.— Strike. [Drum beats. Exit ALCIBIADES. Timon. That nature, being sick of man's unkindness, Should yet be hungry!—Common mother, thou {Digging. Whose womb immeasurable, and infinite breast, Teems, and feeds all; whose self-same mettle, Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is puff'd, Engenders the black toad, and adder blue, The gilded newt, and eyeless venom'd worm/ With all the abhorred births below crisp8 heaven Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine; Yield him, who all thy human sons doth hate, From forth thy plenteous bosom one poor root! Endear thy fertile and conceptions womb, Let it no more bring out ungrateful man! Go great with, tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears; Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward face Hath to the marbled mansion all above 7

The serpent called the blind worm.

8

Curved.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

549

Never presented!—0, a root,—Dear thanks! Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn leas: Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish draughts, And morsels unctuous, greases his pure mind, That from it all consideration slips 1 Enter APEMANTUS. More man I Plague! plague! A'pemantus. I was directed hither: Men report, Thou dost affect my manners, and dost use them. Timon. 'Tis then, because thou dost not keep a dog Whom I would imitate: consumption catch thee! Apemantus. This is in thee a nature but affected; A poor unmanly melancholy, sprung From change of fortune. Why this spade? this place? This slave-like habit, and these looks of care ? Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft, Hug their diseased perfumes, and have forgot That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, JBy putting on the cunning of a carper. Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive By that which has undone thee: hinge thy knee, And let his very breath, whom thou'lt observe, Blow off thy cap; praise his most vicious strain, And call it excellent; thou wast told thus; Thou gav'st thine ears, like tapsters, that bid welcome, To knaves, and all approachers: 'Tis most just, That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth again, Rascals should have't. Do not assume my likeness. Timon. Were I like thee, I'd throw away myself. Apemantus. Thou hast cast away thyself, being like thyself; A madman so long, now a fool: What, think'st That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, Will put thy shirt on warm? Will these moss'd trees, That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, And skip when thou point'st out? Will the cold brook, Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, To cure thy o'er-night surfeit % call the creatures,—

£50

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Whose naked natures live in all the spite Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhoused trunks, To the conflicting elements expos'd, Answer mere nature,—bid them flatter thee; O! thou shalt find Timon. A fool of thee: Depart. Apemantus. I love thee better now than e'er I did. Timon. I hate thee worse. Why? Apemantus. Timon. Thou flatter'st misery. Apemantus. I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff. Timon. Why dost thou seek me out ? Apemantus. To vex thee. Timon. Always a villain's office, or a fool's. Dost please thyself in't? Apemantus. Ay. Timon. What! a knave too? Apemantus. If thou didst put this sour cold habit on To castigate thy pride, 'twere well: but thou Dost it enforcedly; thou'dst courtier be again, Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery Outlives uncertain pomp, is crown'd before: 9 The one is filling still, never complete; The other, at high wish: Best state, contentless, Hath a distracted and most wretched being, Worse than the worst, content. Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable. Timon. Not by his breath 1 that is more miserable. Thou art a slave, whom fortune's tender arm With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog. Hadst thou, like us, from our first swath 2 proceeded, The sweet degrees that this brief world affords To such as may the passive drugs of it Freely command, thou wouldst have plung'd thyself In gen'ral riot; and have never learn'd The icy precepts of respect, but follow'd The sugar'd game before thee. But myself, 9

i. e. Arrives sooner at the completion of its wishes. By his voice, sentence" 2 F r o m infancy#

TIMON OF ATHENS.

551

"Who had the world as my confectionary; The mouths, the tongues, the eyes and hearts of men At duty, tnore than I could frame employment; That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush Fell from their boughs, and left me open, bare For every storm that blows;—I to bear this, That never knew but better, is some burden: Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time Hath made thee hard int. Why shouldst thou hate men? They never flatter'd thee: What hast thou given? Poor rogue hereditary. Hence! be gone!— If thou hadst not been born the worst of men, Thou hadst been a knave, and flatterer. Apemantus. Art thou proud yet? Timon. Ay, that I am not thee. Apemantus. I, that I was No prodigal. Timon. I, that I am one now; Were all the wealth I have, shut up in thee, I'd give thee leave to hang it. Get thee gone.— That the whole life of Athens were in this! Thus would I eat it. [Eating a Foot. Apemantus. Here; I will mend thy feast. [Offering him something. Timon. First mend my company, take away thyself. Apemantus. So I shall mend mine own, by the lack of thine. Timon. ?Tis not well mended so, it is but botch'd; If not, I would it were. Apemantus. What wouldst thou have to Athens? Timon. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou wilt Tell them there, I have gold; look, so I have. Apemantus. Here is no use for gold. Timon. The best and truest; For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. Apemantus. Where ly'st o' nights, Timon?

552

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Timon. Under that's above me. Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus? Apemantus. Where my stomach finds meat; or, rather, where I eat it. Timon. Would poison were obedient, and knew my mind! Apemantus, Where wouldst thou send it? Timon. To sauce thy dishes. Apemantus. The middle of humanity thou never knewest, but the extremity of both ends: When thou wast in thy gilt, and thy perfume, they mocked thee for too much curiosity; 3 in thy rags thou knowest none, but art despised for the contrary. There's a medlar for thee, eat it. Timon. On what I hate, I feed not. Apemantus. Dost hate a medlar? Timon. Ay, though it look like thee. Apemantus. An thou hadst hated medlars sooner, thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. What man didst thou ever know unthrift, that was beloved after his means? Timon. Who, without those means thou talkest of, didst thou ever know beloved? Apemantus. Myself. Timon. I understand thee; thou hadst some means to keep a dog. Apemantus. What things in the world canst thou nearest compare to thy flatterers? Timon. Women nearest: but men, men are things themselves. What wouldat thou do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in thy power? Apemantus. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the men. Timon. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the confusion of men, and remain a beast with the beasts? Apemantus. Ay, Timon. Timon. A beastly ambition, which the gods grant thee to attain to! If thou wert the lion, the fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the lamb, the fox would eat 3

For too much finical delicacy.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

553

thee: if tliou wert the fox, tlie lion would suspect thee, when, peradventure, thou wert accused by the ass: if thou wert the ass, thy dulness would torment thee; andstill thou livedst but as a breakfast to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greediness would afflict thee, and oft thou shouldst hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, and make thine own self the conquest of thy fury: wert thou a bear, thou would st be killed by the horse: wert thou a horse, thou wouldst be seized by the leopard: wert thou a leopard, thou wert german to the lion, and the spots of thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy safety were remotion; 4 and thy defence, absence. What beast couldst thou be, that were not subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou already, that seest not thy loss in transformation'? Apemantus. If thou couldst please me with speaking to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here: The commonwealth of Athens is become a forest of beasts. Timon. How has the ass broke the wall, that thou art out of the city ? Apemantus. Yonder comes a poet and a painter: The plague of company light upon thee! I will fear to catch it, and give way: When I know not what else to do, I'll see thee again. Timon. When there is nothing living but thee, thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a beggar's dog, than Apemantus. Apemantus. Thou art the cap5 of all the fools alive. Timon. Away, Thou tedious rogue! I am sorry, I shall lose A stone by thee. [Throws a Stone at him. Apemantus. Beast! Timon. Slave! Ajoemantus. Toad! Timon. Hogue, rogue, rogue! [APEMANTUS retreats backward, as going. 4 5

Remoteness; the being placed at a distance from the lion. The top, the principal.

554:

TIMON OF ATHENS.

I am sick of this false world; and will love nought But even the mere necessities upon it. Then, Timon, presently prepare thy grave; Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat Thy grave-stone daily: make thine epitaph, That death in me at others' lives may laugh. O thou sweet king-killer, and dear divorce [Looking on tJie Gold.

'Twixt natural son and sire! thou bright defiler Of Hymen's purest bed! thou valiant Mars! Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd and delicate wooer, Whose blush doth thaw the consecrated snow That lies on Dian's lap; thou visible god, That solder'st close impossibilities, And mak'st them kiss! that speak'st with every tongue. To every purpose! O thou touch 6 of hearts! Think, thy slave man rebels; and by thy virtue Set them into confounding odds, that beasts May have the world in empire! Apemantus. 'Would 'twere so;— But not till 1 am dead!—I'll say, thou hast gold: Thou wilt be throng'd to shortly. Timon. Throng d to? Apemantus. Ay. Timon. Thy back, I pr'ythee. Apemantus. Live, and love thy misery! Timon. Long live so, and so die!—I am quit.— [Exit APEMANTUS. More things like men?—Eat, Timon, and abhor them. Enter

THIEVES.

1 Thief. Where should he have this gold? I t is some poor fragment, some slender ort of his remainder: The mere want of gold, and the falling-from of his friends, drove him into this melancholy. 2 Thief. I t is noised, he hath a mass of treasure. 3 Thief. Let us make the assay upon him: if he care 6

Touchstone.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

5u5

not for't, he will supply us easily; If lie covetously reserve it, how shall's get it? 2 Thief. True; for he bears it not about him, 'tis hid. 1 Thief. Is not this he? Thieves. Where? 2 Thief. 'Tis his description. 3 Thief. H e ; I know him. Thieves. Save thee, Timon. Timon. Now, thieves? Thieves. Soldiers, not thieves. Timon. Both too; and women's sons. Thieves. We are not thieves, but men that much do want. Timon. Your greatest want is, you want much of meat. Why should you want? Behold the earth hath roots; Within this mile break forth a hundred springs: The oaks bear masts, the briars scarlet hips; The bounteous housewife, nature, on each bush Lays her full mess before you. Want ? why want ? 1 Tiiief We cannot live on grass, on berries, water, As beasts, and birds, and fishes. Timon. Nor on the beasts themselves, the birds, and fishes; You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you con, That you are thieves profess'd; that you work not In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft In limited7 professions. Rascal thieves, Here's gold: Go, suck the subtle blood of the grape, Till the high fever seeth your blood to froth, And so 'scape hanging: trust not the physician; His antidotes are poison, and he slays More, than you rob: take wealth and lives together. Do villainy, do, since you profess to do't, Like workmen. I'll example you with thievery: The sun's a thief, and with his great attraction Robs the vast sea: the moon's an arrant thief, And her pale fire she snatches from the sun: The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 7

Legal.

556

TIMON OF ATHENS.

The moon into salt tears: each thing's a thief; The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough power Have unchecked theft. Love not yourselves: away, Rob one another. There's more gold: Cutthroats; All that you meet are thieves: To Athens, go, Break open shops; nothing can you steal, But thieves do lose it; Steal not less, for this I give you; and gold confound you howsoever! [TIMON retires to his Cave. 3 Thief. He has almost charmed me from my profession, by persuading me to it. 1 Thief. 'Tis in the malice of mankind, that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive in our mystery. 2 Thief. I l l believe him as an enemy, and give over my trade. 1 Tlikf. Let us first see peace in Athens: There is no time so miserable, but a man may be true. [Exeunt THIEVES. Enter FLAVIUS. Flavins. O you gods! Is yon despis'd and ruinous man my lord? Full of decay and failing? O monument And wonder of good deeds evilly bestow'd! What an alteration of honour has Desperate want made! What viler thing upon the earth, than friends, Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! How rarely8 does it meet with this time s guise, When man was wish'd to love his enemies: Grant, I may ever love, and rather woo Those that would mischief me, than those that do! He has caught me in his eye: I will present My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord, Still serve him with my life.—My dearest master! comes forward from his Cave. Timon. Away! what art thou? TIMON

8

How happily.

TD10N OF ATHENS.

557

Flavins. Have you forgot me, sir Timon. Why dost ask that? 1 have forgot all men; Then if thou grant'st thou'rt man, I have forgot thee. Flavins. An honest poor servant of yours. Timon. Then I know thee not: I ne'er had honest man About me, I ; all that I kept were knaves, To serve in meat to villains. Flavins. The gods are witness, Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief For his undone lord, than mine eyes for you. Timon. What, dost thou weep?—Come nearer;—then I love thee, Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give, But thorough lust, and laughter. Pity's sleeping: Strange times, that weep with laughing, not with weeping!

Flavins. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, To accept my grief, and whilst this poor wealth lasts, To entertain me as your steward still. Timon. Had I a steward so true, so just, and now So comfortable? It almost turns My dangerous nature wild. Let me behold Thy face.—Surely, this man was born of woman.— Forgive my general and exceptless rashness, Perpetual-sober gods! I do proclaim One honest man,1—mistake me not,—but one; No more, I pray,—and he is a steward.— How fain would I have hated all mankind, And thou redeem'st thyself: But all, save thee, I fell with curses. Methinks, thou art more honest now, than wise; For, by oppressing and betraying me, Thou mightst have sooner got another service: For many so arrive at second masters, Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, (For 1 must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure,) Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous.

558

TIMOff OF ATHENS,

I f not a usuring kindness: and as rich men deal gifts, JSxpecting in return twenty for one? Flavins. No, my most worthy master, in whose breast Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late: You should have fear'd false times, when you did feast: Suspect still comes where an estate is least. That which I show, heaven knows, is merely love, Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind, Care of your food and living: and, believe it, My most honour'd lord, For any benefit that points to me, Either in hope, or present, I'd exchange For this one wish, That you had power and wealth To requite me, by making rich yourself. Timon. Look thee, 'tis so!—Thou singly honest man, Here take:—the gods out of my misery Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich, and happy: But thus conditioned; Thou shalt build from men; 9 Hate all, curse all: show charity to none; But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs What thou deny'st to men; let prisons swallow them, Debts wither them: Be men like blasted woods, And may diseases lick up their false bloods! And so farewell, and thrive. Flavins. O, let me stay, And comfort you, my master. Timon. If thou hat'st Curses, stay not; fly, whilst thou'rt bless'd and free: Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. \Eocennt severally. 9

Away from human habitation.

TIMOX OF ATHENS.

559

ACT V. Cave. Enter POET and PAINTER; TIMON behind, unseen. Painter. As I took note of the place, it cannot be far where he abides. Poet. What's to be thought of him? Does the rumour hold for true, that he is so full of gold? Painter. Certain: Alcibiades reports it; and he enriched poor straggling soldiers with great quantity: 'Tis said, he gave unto his steward a mighty sum. Poet. Then this breaking of his has been but a try for his friends. Painter. Nothing else: you shall see him a palm iri Athens again, and flourish with the highest. Therefore, 'tis not amiss, we tender our loves to him, in this supposed distress of his: it will show honestly in us; and is very likely to load our purposes with what they travel for, if it be a just and true report that goes of his having. Poet. What have you now to present unto him ? Painter. Nothing at this time but my visitation: only I will promise him an excellent piece. Poet. I must serve him so too; tell him of an intent that's coming toward him. Painter. Good as the best. Promising is the very air o' the time: it opens the eyes of expectation: performance is ever the duller for his act; and, but in the plainer and simpler kind of people, the deed of saying1 is quite out of use. To promise is most courtly and fashionable: performance is a kind of will or testament, which argues a great sickness in his judgment that makes it. Timon. Excellent workman! Thou canst not paint a man so bad as is thyself. Poet. I am thinking, what I shall say I have provided SCENE

1

I.—Before

TIMON S

The doing of that we said we would do.

560

TDION OF ATHENS.

for him: It must be a personating of himself: a satire against the softness of prosperity; with a discovery of the infinite flatteries, that follow youth and opulency. Timon. Must thou needs stand for a villain in thine own work? Wilt thou whip thine own faults in other men ? Do so, I have gold for thee. Poet Nay, let's seek him: Then do we sin against our own estate, When we may profit meet; and come too late. Painter. True; When the day serves, before black-corner'd night, Find what thou want'st, by free and offer'd light. Come. Timon. I l l meet you at the turn. What a god's gold, That he is worshipped in a baser temple, Than where swine feed! 'Tis thou that rigg'st the bark, and plough'st the foam; Settlest admired reverence in a slave: To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! 'Fit I do meet them. [Advancing. Poet Hail, worthy Timon! Painter. Our late noble master. Timon. Have I once liv'd to see two honest men? Poet Sir, Having often of your open bounty tasted, Hearing you were retired, your friends fall'n off, Whose thankless natures—O abhorred spirits! Not all the whips of heaven are large enough— What! to you! Whose star-like nobleness gave life and influence To their whole being! I'm rapt, and cannot cover The monstrous bulk of this ingratitude With any size of words. Timon. Let it go naked, men may see't the better: You, that are honest, by being what you are, Make them best seen, and known. Pointer. H e , and myse!f,

TIMON OF ATHENS.

5G1

Have travelled in the great shower of your gifts, And sweetly felt it. Timon. Ay, you are honest men. Painter. We are hither come to offer you our service, Timon. Most honest men! Why, how shall I requite you? Can you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. Both. What we can do, we'll do, to do you service. Timon. You are honest men: You have heard that I have gold: I am sure you have: speak truth: you are honest men. Painter. So it is said, my noble lord: but therefore Game not my friend, nor I. Timon. Good honest men:—Thou draw'st a counterfeit2 Best in all Athens: thou art, indeed, the best; Thou counterfeit^ most lively. Painter. So, so, my lord. Timon. Even so, sir, as. I say:—And, for thy fiction, [To the POET.

Why thy verse swells with stuff so fine and smooth, That thou art even natural in thine art.— But, for all this, my honest-natur'd friends, I must needs say, you have a little fault: Marry, 'tis not monstrous in you; neither wish I, You take much pains to mend. Both. Beseech your honour, To make it known to us. Timon. You'll take it ill. Both. Most thankfully, my lord. Timon. Will you, indeed? Both. Doubt it not, worthy lord. Timon. There's ne'er a one of you but trusts a knave, That mightily deceives you. Both. Do we, my lord? Timon. Ay, and you hear him cog, see him dissemble, Know his gross patchery, love him, feed him, 2

VOL. IV.

A portrait was so called. 2 O

5G2

TIMON OF ATHENS.

Keep in your bosom: yet remain assured, That he's a made-up villain.3 Painter. I know none such, my lord. Poet. Nor I. Timon. Look you, I love you well; I'll give you gold. Rid me these villains from your companies: Hang them, or stab them, drowix them in a draught, Confound them by some course, and come to me, I'll give you gold enough. Both. Name them, my lord, let's know them. Timon. You that way, and you this, but two in company:— Each man apart, all single and alone, Yet an arch-villain keeps him company. If, where thou art, two villains shall not be, [To the PAINTER.

Come not near him.—If thou wouldst not reside [To tJie POET. But where one villain is, then him abandon.— Hence! pack! there's gold, ye came for gold, ye slaves: You have done work for me, there's payment; Hence! You are an alchemist, make gold of that: Out, rascal dogs! [Exit, beating and driving them crut. SCENE

II.—Tlie same.

Enter FLAVIUS, and two SENATORS. Flavins. It is in vain that you would speak with Timon; For he is set so only to himself, That nothing but himself, which looks like man, Is friendly with him. 1 Senator. Bring us to his cave: It is our part, and promise to the Athenians, To speak with Timon. 2 Senator. At all times alike Men are not still the same: 'Twas time, and griefs, That fram'd him thus: time, with his fairer hand/ 3

A complete, a finished villain.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

5G3

Offering the fortunes of his former days, The former man may make him: Bring us to him, And chance it as it may. Flavins. Here is his cave.— Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! Timon! Look out, and speak to friends: The Athenians, By two of their most reverend senate, greet thee: Speak to them, noble Timon. Enter TIMON. Timon. Thou sun, that comfort'st, burn!—Speak, and be hang'd: For each true word, a blister! and each false Be as a caut'rizing to the root o' the tongue, Consuming it with speaking! 1 Senator. Worthy Timon— Timon. Of none but such as you, and you of Timon. 2 Senator. The senators of Athens greet thee, Timon. Timon. I thank them; and would send them back the plague, Could I but catch it for them. 1 Senator. O, forget What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. The senators, with one consent of love, Entreat thee back to Athens; who have thought On special dignities, which vacant lie For thy best use and wearing. 2 Senator. They confess, Toward thee, forgetfulness too general, gross: Which now the publick body,—which doth seldom Play the recanter,—feeling in itself A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal Of its own fall, restraining aid to Timon: And send forth us, to make their sorrow'd render,4 Together with a recompence more fruitful Than their offence can weigh down by the dram; Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and wealth, As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were theirs, 4

Confession.

564

TIMON OP ATHENS.

And write ir> thee the figures of their love, Ever to read them thine. You witch me in i t ; Timon. Surprise me to the very brink of tears: Lend me a fool's heart, and a woman's eyes, And I'll beweep these comforts, worthy seuators. 1 Senator. Therefore, so please thee to return with us, And of our Athens (thine, and ours,) to take The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, Allow'd5 with absolute power, and thy good name Live with authority:—so soon we shall drive back Of Alcibiades the approaches wild; Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up His country's peace. 2 Senator. And shakes his threatening sword Against the walls of Athens. 1 Senator. Therefore, Timon,— Timon. Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; Thus,— If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, That—Timon cares not. But if he sack fair Athens, And take our goodly aged men by the beards, Giving our holy virgins to the stain Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war; Then, let him know,—and tell him, Timon speaks it, In pity of our aged, and our youth, I cannot choose but tell him, that—I care not, And let him take't at worst; for their knives care not While.you have throats to answer: for myself, There's not a whittle 6 in the unruly camp, But I do prize it at my love, before The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave you To the protection of the prosperous7 gods, As thieves to keepers. Flavins. Stay not, all's in vaiu. Timon. Why, I was writing of my epitaph, It will be seen to-morrow; My long sickness 5

Licensed, uncontrolled.

6

A clasp knife,

7

Propitious.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

565

Of health, and living, now begins to mend, And nothing brings me all things. Go, live still; Be Alcibiades your plague, you his, And last so long enough! 1 Senator. We speak in vain. Timon. But yet I love my country; and am not One that rejoices in the common wreck, As common bruit 8 doth put it. 1 Senator. That's well spoke. Timon. Commend me to my loving countrymen,— 1 Senator. These words become your lips as they pass through them. 2 Senator. And enter in our ears like great triumphers In their applauding gates. Timon. Commend me to them; And tell them, that to ease them of their griefs, Their fears of hostile strokes, their aches, losses, Their pangs of love, with other incident throes That nature's fragile vessel doth sustain In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness do them : I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades' wrath, 2 Senator. I like this well, he will return again. Timon. I have a tree, which grows here in my close, That mine own use invites me to cut down, And shortly must I fell it: Tell my friends, Tell Athens in the sequence of degree, From high to low throughout, that whoso please To stop affliction, let him take his haste, Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe, And hang himself:—I pray you, do my greeting. Flavins. Trouble him no further, thus you still shall find him. Timon. Come not to me again: but say to Athens, Timon hath made his everlasting mansion Upon the beached verge of the salt flood; Which once a day with his embossed froth The turbulent surge shall cover; thither come, 8

Report, rumour.

566

TIMON OP ATHENS.

And let my grave-stone be your oracle.— Lips, let sour words go by, and language end: What is amiss, plague arid infection mend! Graves only be men's works; and death, their gain! Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his reign. [Exit TIMON. 1 Senator. His discontents are unremoveably Coupled to nature. 2 Senator. Our hope in him is dead: let us return, And strain what other means is left unto us In our dear9 peril. 1 Senator. I t requires swift foot. [Eoceunt. III.—Tlie Walls ( / A T H E N S . Enter two SENATORS and a MESSENGER. 1 Senator. Thou hast painfully discovered; are his files As full as thy report ? Messenger. I have spoke the least; Besides, his expedition promises Present approach. 2 Senator. We stand much hazard, if they bring not Timon. Messenger. I met a courier, one mine ancient friend;— Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, Yet our old love made a particular force, And made us speak like friends:—this man was riding From Alcibiades to Timon's cave, With letters of entreaty, which imported His fellowship i the cause against your city, In part for his sake mov'd. SCENE

Enter SENATORS from TIMON. 1 Senator. Here come our brothers. 2 Senator. No talk of Timon, nothing of him expect.— The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scouring 9

Dreadful.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

567

Doth choke the air with dust: in and prepare; Ours is the fall, I fear; our foes, the snare. [Eoceunt. IV.—The Woods. TIMON'S Came, and a Tombstone seen. Enter a SOLDIER, seeking TIMON. Soldier. By all description this should be the place. Who's here? speak, ho!—No answer?—What is this? Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span: Some beast rear'd this; there does not live a man. Dead, sure; and this his grave.— What's on this tomb I cannot read; the character I'll take with wax. Our captain hath in every figure skill; An ag'd interpreter, though young in days: Before proud Athens he's set down by this, Whose fall the mark of his ambition is. [Exit. SCENE

Y.—Before the Walls of ATHENS. Trumpets sound. Enter ALCIBIADES, and Forces. Alcibiades. Sound to this coward and lascivious town Our terrible approach, [A Parley sounded. SCENE

Enter SENATORS on the Walls. Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time With all licentious measure, making your wills The scope of justice; till now, myself, and such As slept within the shadow of your power, Have wandered with our traversal arms,1 and breath'd Our sufferance vainly; Now the time is flush,2 When crouching marrow, in the bearer strong, Cries, of itself, No more: now breathless wrong, Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of ease; And pursy insolence shall break his wind, With fear and horrid flight. 1 Senator. Noble and young, * Arms across.

2

Mature*

5C8

TDION OF ATHENS.

When thy first griefs were but a mere conceit, Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause of fear, We sent to thee; to give thy rages balm, To wipe out our ingratitude with loves Above their quantity. 2 Senator. So did we woo Transformed Tim on to our city's love, By humble message, and by proinis'd means; We were not all unkind, nor all deserve The common stroke of war. 1 Senator. These walls of ours Were not erected bv their hands, from whom You have receiv'd your griefs: nor are they such, That these great towers, trophies, and schools should fall For private faults in them, 2 Senator. Nor are they living Who were the motives that you first went out; Shame, that they wanted cunning, in excess Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, Into our city with thy banners spread: By decimation, and a tithed death, (If thy revenges hunger for that food, Which nature loathes,) take thou the destin'd tenth; And by the hazard of the spotted die, Let die the spotted 1 Senator. All have not offended; For those that were, it is not square 3 to take, On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands, Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman, Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy rage: Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin, Which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must fall With those that have offended: like a shepherd, Approach the fold, and cull the infected forth, But kill not altogether. 2 Senator. What thou wilt, Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile Than hew to't with thy sword. 3

Not regular, not equitable.

TIMON OF ATHENS.

569

1 Senator. Set but thy foot Against our rampir'd gates, and they shall ope; So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before, To say, thoult enter friendly. 2 Senator. Throw thy glove; Or any token of thine honour else, That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress, And not as our confusion, all thy powers Shall make their harbour in our town, till we Have seal'd thy full desire. Alcibiades. Then there's my glove; Descend, and open your uncharged ports; 4 Those enemies of Timon's, and mine own, "Whom you yourselves shall set out for reproof, Fall, and no more: and,—to atone 5 your fears With my more noble meaning,—not a man Shall pass his quarter, or offend the stream Of regular justice in your city's bounds, But shall be remedied, to your publick laws At heaviest answer. Both. 'Tis most nobly spoken. Alcibiades. Descend, and keep your words. The

descend, and open the Gates. Enter a SOLDIER. Soldier. My noble general, Timon is dead; Entomb'd upon the very hem o' the sea; And on his grave-stone, this insculpture; which With wax I brought away, whose soft impression Interprets for my poor ignorance. Alcibiades. [Reads.] Here lies a wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft : Seek not my name: A plague consume you wicked caitiffs left! Here He / , Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate: Pass by, and curse thy Jill; but pass, and stay not here thy gcuit. 4

SENATORS

Unattacked gates.

s

Reconcile.

570

TIMON OF ATHENS.

These well express in thee thy latter spirits, Though thou abhorr'dst in us our human griefs, Scom'dst our brain's flow, and those our droplets which From niggard nature fall, yet rich conceit Taught thee to make vast Neptune weep for aye On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead Is noble Timon; of whose memory Hereafter more.—Bring me into your city, And I will use the olive with my sword: Make war breed peace; make peace stint 6 war; make each Prescribe to other, as each other's leech.7 Let our drums strike. [Eoceunt. 6

7

Stop.

Physician.

END OF VOLUME FOURTH.

M'COBQUODALE AND CO., PRINTERS, LONDON. WOKS—NEWTON.