Clif.
Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies,
Which, whiles ^note it lasted, gave King Henry light.
O ^note Lancaster, I fear thy ^note overthrow
More than my body's parting with my soul! ^note
My love and fear glued many friends to thee; ^note
And, now I fall, thy ^{note note} tough commixture melts ^note.
Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York, ^note
The common people swarm like summer flies ^note;
And whither ^note fly the gnats but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies ^note?
O Phœbus, hadst thou never given consent
That Phaëthon ^note should check thy fiery steeds ^note,
Thy burning car never had ^note scorch'd the earth!
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,
Or as ^note thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies ^note;
I and ten thousand in this luckless realm
Had left no mourning widows for our ^note death ^note;

And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
For what doth cherish weeds ^note 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 ^note:
The foe is merciless, and will not pity;
For at their hands I have ^note deserved 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;
I stabb'd your fathers' bosoms ^note, split my breast. [He faints. ^note Alarum and retreat. ^note Enter ^note, Edward, George, Richard, Montague, Warwick, and Soldiers,

Edw.
Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause,
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.
Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen,
That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Command an argosy to stem the waves.
But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?

War.
No, 'tis impossible he should escape;
For, though before his face I speak the words ^note,
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave:
And wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead. [Clifford groans, and dies. ^note

Edw.
Whose soul is that which takes her ^note heavy leave?

Rich.
A deadly groan, like life and death's ^note departing.

Edw.
See who it is: and, now the battle's ended,
If friend or foe, let him be gently used. ^note

Rich.
Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford;
Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,
But set his ^note murdering knife unto the root
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,
I mean our princely father, Duke of York.

War.
From off the gates of York fetch down the head,
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there;
Instead whereof let this ^note supply the room:
Measure for measure must be answered.

Edw.
Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house,
That nothing sung but death to us and ours:
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, ^note
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

War.
I think his ^note understanding is bereft.
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to thee?
Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,
And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.

Rich.
O, would he did! and so perhaps he doth:
'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
Which ^note in the time of death he gave our father.

Geo.
If so thou think'st, vex him with eager words ^note.

Rich.
Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.

Edw.
Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.

War.
Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.

Geo.
While we devise fell tortures for ^note thy faults.

Rich.
Thou didst love York, and I am son to York.

Edw.
Thou pitied'st Rutland; I will pity thee.

Geo.
Where's Captain Margaret, to fence you now?

War.
They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont ^note.

Rich.
What, not an oath? nay, then ^note 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 ^note hours' ^note life,
That I in all despite might rail at him,
This hand should ^note chop it off, and with the issuing blood
Stifle the villain whose unstanched thirst
York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

War.
Ay, but he's dead: off with the traitor's head,
And rear it in the place your father's stands ^note.
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 ^note for thy queen:
So shalt thou sinew ^note both these lands together;
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt ^note not dread
The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears.
First will I see the ^note coronation;
And then to Brittany I'll cross the sea,
To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.

Edw.
Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be;
For in ^note 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 Gloucester,
And George, of Clarence: Warwick, as ourself,
Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. ^note

Rich.
Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester;
For Gloucester's dukedom is too ominous.

War.
Tut, that's a foolish observation:
Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London,
To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt.

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