DRAMATIS PERSONÆ King Henry the Sixth. Lewis, King of France. Duke of Somerset. Duke of Exeter. Earl of Oxford. Earl of Northumberland. Earl of Westmoreland. Lord Clifford. Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York. Edward, Earl of March, afterwards King Edward IV, his son. Edmund, Earl of Rutland, his son. George, afterwards Duke of Clarence, his son. Richard, afterwards Duke of Gloucester, his son. Duke of Norfolk. Marquis of Montague. Earl of Warwick. Lord Hastings. Sir John Mortimer, uncle to the Duke of York. Lord Rivers, brother to Lady Grey. Sir John Montgomery. Tutor, to Rutland. Mayor of York. A Huntsman. A Son that has killed his father. A Father that has killed his son. Queen Margaret. Lady Grey, afterwards Queen to Edward IV. Bona, sister to the French Queen. Soldiers, Attendants, Messengers, Watchmen, &c. Messenger, Post, Keeper 1

The true Tragedie of Richard Duke of Yorke, and the good King Henry the Sixt.

[First section] Enter Richard Duke of Yorke, The Earle of Warwicke, The Duke of Norffolke, Marquis Montague, Edward Earle of March, Crookeback Richard, and the yong Earle of Rutland, with Drumme and Souldiers, with white Roses in their hats.

Warwike.
I wonder how the king escapt our hands.

Yorke.
Whilst we pursude the horsemen of the North,
He slilie stole awaie and left his men:
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike eares could neuer brooke retrait,
Chargde our maine battels front, and there with him
Lord Stafford and Lord Clifford all abrest
Brake in and were by the hands of common Souldiers slain.

Edw.
Lord Staffords father Duke of Buckingham,
Is either slaine or wounded dangerouslie,

I cleft his Beuer with a downe right blow:
Father that this is true behold his bloud.

Mont.
And brother heeres the Earle of Wiltshires
Bloud, whom I encountred as the battailes ioind.

Rich.
Speake thou for me and tell them what I did.

York.
What is your grace dead my L. of Summerset?

Norf.
Such hope haue all the line of Iohn of Gawnt.

Rich.
Thus doe I hope to shape king Henries head.

War.
And so do I victorious prince of Yorke,
Before I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the house of Lancaster vsurpes,
I vow by heauens these eies shal neuer close.
This is the pallace of that fearefull king,
And that the regall chaire? Possesse it Yorke:
For this is thine and not king Henries heires.

York.
Assist me then sweet Warwike, and I wil:
For hither are we broken in by force.

Norf.
Weele all assist thee, and he that flies shall die.

York.

Thanks gentle Norffolke. Staie by me my Lords, and souldiers staie you heere and lodge this night:

War.
And when the king comes offer him no
Violence, vnlesse he seek to put vs out by force.

Rich.
Armde as we be, lets staie within this house?

War.
The bloudie parlement shall this be calde,
Vnlesse Plantagenet Duke of Yorke be king
And bashfull Henrie be deposde, whose cowardise
Hath made vs by-words to our enemies.

York.
Then leaue me not my Lords: for now I meane
To take possession of my right.

War.
Neither the king, nor him that loues him best,
The proudest burd that holds vp Lancaster.
Dares stirre a wing if Warwike shake his bels.
Ile plant Plantagenet: and root him out who dares?
Resolue thee Richard: Claime the English crowne. Enter king Henrie the sixt, with the Duke of Excester, The Earle of Northumberland, the Earle of Westmerland and Clifford, the Earle of Cumberland, with red Roses in their hats.

King.
Looke Lordings where the sturdy rebel sits,
Euen in the chaire of state: belike he meanes
Backt by the power of Warwike that false peere,
To aspire vnto the crowne, and raigne as king.
Earle of Northumberland, he slew thy father.
And thine Clifford: and you both haue vow'd reuenge,
On him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his friends.

Northu.
And if I be not, heauens be reuengd on me.

Clif.
The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourn in steel.

West.
What? shall we suffer this, lets pull him downe.
My hart for anger breakes, I cannot speake.

King.
Be patient gentle Earle of Westmerland.

Clif.
Patience is for pultrouns such as he
He durst not sit there had your father liu'd?
My gratious Lord: here in the Parlement,
Let vs assaile the familie of Yorke.

North.
Well hast thou spoken cosen, be it so.

King.
O know you not the Cittie fauours them,

And they haue troopes of soldiers at their becke?

Exet.
But when the D. is slaine, theile quicklie flie.

King.
Far be it from the thoughtes of Henries hart,
To make a shambles of the parlement house.
Cosen of Exeter, words, frownes, and threats,
Shall be the warres that Henrie meanes to vse.
Thou factious duke of Yorke, descend my throne,
I am thy soueraigne.

York.
Thou art deceiu'd: I am thine.

Exet.
For shame come downe he made thee D. of York.

York.
Twas mine inheritance as the kingdome is.

Exet.
Thy father was a traytor to the crowne.

War.
Exeter thou art a traitor to the crowne.
In following this vsurping Henry.

Clif.
Whom should he follow but his naturall king.

War.
True Clif and that is Richard Duke of Yorke.

King.
And shall I stande while thou sittest in my throne?

York.
Content thy selfe it must and shall be so.

War.
Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be king.

West.
Why? he is both king & Duke of Lancaster,
And that the Earle of Westmerland shall mainetaine.

War.
And Warwike shall disproue it. You forget
That we are those that chaste you from the field
And slew your father, and with colours spred,
Marcht through the Cittie to the pallas gates.

Nor.
No Warwike I remember it to my griefe,
And by his soule thou and thy house shall rew it.

West.
Plantagenet of thee and of thy sonnes,

Thy kinsmen and thy friendes, Ile haue more liues,
Then drops of bloud were in my fathers vaines.

Clif.
Vrge it no more, least in reuenge thereof,
I send thee Warwike such a messenger,
As shall reueng his death before I stirre.

War.
Poore Clifford, how I skorn thy worthles threats

York.
Wil ye we shew our title to the crowne,
Or else our swords shall plead it in the field?

King.
What title haste thou traitor to the Crowne?
Thy father was as thou art Duke of Yorke,
Thy grandfather Roger Mortimer earle of March,
I am the sonne of Henrie the Fift who tamde the French,
And made the Dolphin stoope, and seazd vpon their
Townes and prouinces.

War.
Talke not of France since thou hast lost it all.

King.
The Lord protector lost it and not I,
When I was crownd I was but nine months old.

Rich.
You are olde enough now and yet me thinkes you lose,
Father teare the Crowne from the Vsurpers head.

Edw.
Do so sweet father, set it on your head.

Mont.
Good brother as thou lou'st & honorst armes,
Lets fight it out and not stand cauilling thus.

Rich.
Sound drums and trumpets & the king will fly.

York.
Peace sonnes:

Northum.
Peace thou and giue king Henry leaue to speake.

King.
Ah Plantagenet, why seekest thou to depose me?
Are we not both both Plantagenets by birth,

And from two brothers line allie discent?
Suppose by right and equitie thou be king,
Thinkst thou that I will leaue my kinglie seate
Wherein my father and my grandsire sat?
No, first shall warre vnpeople this my realme,
I and our colours often borne in France,
And now in England to our harts great sorrow
Shall be my winding sheete, why faint you Lords?
My titles better farre than his.

War.
Proue it Henrie and thou shalt be king?

King.
Why Henrie the fourth by conquest got the Crowne.

York.
T'was by rebellion gainst his soueraigne.

King.
I know not what to saie my titles weake,
Tell me maie not a king adopt an heire?

War.
What then?

King.
Then am I lawfull king For Richard
The second in the view of manie Lords
Resignde the Crowne to Henrie the fourth,
Whose heire my Father was, and I am his.

York.
I tell thee he rose against him being his
Soueraigne, & made him to resigne the crown perforce.

War.
Suppose my Lord he did it vnconstrainde,
Thinke you that were preiudiciall to the Crowne?

Exet.
No, for he could not so resigne the Crowne,
But that the next heire must succeed and raigne.

King.
Art thou against vs, Duke of Exceter?

Exet.
His is the right, and therefore pardon me.

King.
All will reuolt from me and turne to him.

Northum.
Plantagenet for all the claime thou laist,
Thinke not king Henry shall be thus deposde?

War.
Deposde he shall be in despight of thee.

North.
Tush Warwike, Thou art deceiued? tis not thy
Southerne powers of Essex, Suffolke, Norffolke, and of
Kent that makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,
Can set the Duke vp in despight of me.

Cliff.
King Henrie be thy title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford vowes to fight in thy defence.
Maie that ground gape and swallow me aliue,
Where I do kneele to him that slew my father.

King.
O Clifford, how thy words reuiue my soule.

York.
Henry of Lancaster resigne thy crowne.
What mutter you? or what conspire you Lords?

War.
Doe right vnto this princelie Duke of Yorke,
Or I will fill the house with armed men, Enter Souldiers.
And ouer the chaire of state where now he sits,
Wright vp his title with thy vsurping bloud.

King.
O Warwike, heare me speake.
Let me but raigne in quiet whilst I liue.

York.
Confirme the crowne to me and to mine heires
And thou shalt raigne in quiet whilst thou liu'st.

King.
Conuey the souldiers hence, and then I will.

War.
Captaine conduct them into Tuthill fieldes.

Clif.
What wrong is this vnto the Prince your son?

War.
What good is this for England and himselfe?

Northum.
Base, fearefull, and despairing Henry.

Clif.
How hast thou wronged both thy selfe and vs?

West.
I cannot staie to heare these Articles. Exit.

Clif.
Nor I, Come cosen lets go tell the Queene.

Northum.
Be thou a praie vnto the house of Yorke,
And die in bands for this vnkingly deed. Exit.

Clif.
In dreadfull warre maist thou be ouercome,
Or liue in peace abandon'd and despisde. Exit.

Exet.
They seeke reuenge, and therefore will not yeeld my Lord.

King.
Ah Exeter?

War.
Why should you sigh my Lord?

King.
Not for my selfe Lord Warwike, but my sonne;
Whom I vnnaturallie shall disinherit.
But be it as it maie: I heere intaile the Crowne
To thee and to thine heires, conditionallie,
That here thou take thine oath, to cease these ciuill
Broiles, and whilst I liue to honour me as thy king and Soueraigne.

York.
That oath I willinglie take and will performe.

War.
Long liue king Henry. Plantagenet embrace him?

King.
And long liue thou and all thy forward sonnes.

York.
Now Yorke and Lancaster are reconcilde.

Exet.
Accurst be he that seekes to make them foes, Sound Trumpets.

York.

My Lord Ile take my leaue, for Ile to Wakefield To my castell.

War.

And Ile keepe London with my souldiers.

Norf

And Ile to Norffolke with my followers.

Mont.

And I to the sea from whence I came.

Enter the Queene and the Prince.

Exet.
My Lord here comes the Queen, Ile steale away.

King.
And so will I.

Queene.
Naie staie, or else I follow thee.

King.
Be patient gentle Queene, and then Ile staie.

Quee.
What patience can there? ah timerous man,
Thou hast vndoone thy selfe, thy sonne, and me,
And giuen our rights vnto the house of Yorke.
Art thou a king and wilt be forst to yeeld?
Had I beene there, the souldiers should haue tost
Me on their launces points, before I would haue
Granted to their wils. The Duke is made
Protector of the land: Sterne Fawconbridge
Commands the narrow seas. And thinkst thou then.
To sleepe secure? I heere diuorce me Henry
From thy bed, vntill that Act of Parlement
Be recalde, wherein thou yeeldest to the house of Yorke.
The Northen Lords that haue forsworne thy colours,
Will follow mine if once they see them spred,
And spread they shall vnto thy deepe disgrace.
Come sonne, lets awaie and leaue him heere alone.

King.
Staie gentle Margaret, and here me speake.

Queene.
Thou hast spoke too much alreadie, therefore be still.

King.
Gentle sonne Edwarde, wilt thou staie with me?

Quee.
I, to be murdred by his enemies. Exit.

Prin.
When I returne with victorie from the field.
Ile see your Grace, till then Ile follow her. Exit.

King.
Poore Queene, her loue to me and to the prince

Her sonne,
Makes hir in furie thus forget hir selfe.
Reuenged maie shee be on that accursed Duke.
Come cosen of Exeter, staie thou here,
For Clifford and those Northern Lords be gone
I feare towards Wakefield, to disturbe the Duke. Enter Edward, and Richard, and Montague.

Edw.

Brother and cosen Montague, giue mee leaue to speake.

Rich.

Nay, I can better plaie the Orator.

Mont.
But I haue reasons strong and forceable. Enter the Duke of Yorke.

York.
Howe nowe sonnes what at a iarre amongst your selues?

Rich.

No father, but a sweete contention, about that which concernes your selfe and vs, The crowne of England father.

York.
The crowne boy, why Henries yet aliue,
And I haue sworne that he shall raigne in quiet till
His death.

Edw.

But I would breake an hundred othes to raigne one yeare.

Rich.
And if it please your grace to giue me leaue,
Ile shew your grace the waie to saue your oath,
And dispossesse king Henrie from the crowne.

Yorke.
I prethe Dicke let me heare thy deuise.

Rich.
Then thus my Lord. An oath is of no moment

Being not sworne before a lawfull magistrate.
Henry is none but doth vsurpe your right,
And yet your grace stands bound to him by oath,
Then noble father resolue your selfe,
And once more claime the crowne.

Yorke.
I, saist thou so boie? why then it shall be so.
I am resolude to win the crowne, or die.
Edward, thou shalt to Edmund Brooke Lord Cobham,
With vvhom the Kentishmen vvill vvillinglie rise:
Thou cosen Montague, shalt to Norffolke straight,
And bid the Duke to muster vppe his souldiers,
And come to me to Wakefield presentlie.
And Richard thou to London strait shalt post,
And bid Richard Neuill Earle of Warwike
To leaue the cittie, and with his men of warre,
To meete me at Saint Albons ten daies hence.
My selfe heere in Sandall castell will prouide
Both men and monie to furder our attempts.
Now, what newes? Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
My Lord, the Queene with thirtie thousand men,
Accompanied with the Earles of Cumberland,
Northumberland and Westmerland, and others of the
House of Lancaster, are marching towards Wakefield,
To besiedge you in your castell heere. Enter sir Iohn and sir Hugh Mortimer.

Yorke.

A Gods name, let them come. Cosen Montague post you hence: and boies staie you with me.

Your welcome to Sandall in an happie houre,
The armie of the Queene meanes to besiedge vs.

Sir Iohn.
Shee shall not neede my Lorde, weele meete her in the field.

York.
What with fiue thousand souldiers vncle?

Rich.
I father, with fiue hundred for a need,
A womans generall, what should you feare?

York.
Indeed, manie braue battels haue I woon
In Normandie, when as the enimie
Hath bin ten to one, and why should I now doubt
Of the like successe? I am resolu'd. Come lets goe.

Edw.
Lets martch awaie, I heare their drums. Exit. Alarmes, and then Enter the yong Earle of Rutland and his Tutor.

Tutor.
Oh flie my Lord, lets leaue the Castell,
And flie to Wakefield straight. Enter Clifford.

Rut.
O Tutor, looke where bloudie Clifford comes.

Clif.
Chaplin awaie, thy Priesthood saues thy life,
As for the brat of that accursed Duke
Whose father slew my father, he shall die.

Tutor.
Oh Clifford spare this tender Lord, least
Heauen reuenge it on thy head: Oh saue his life.

Clif.
Soldiers awaie and drag him hence perforce:
Awaie with the villaine. Exit the Chaplein.
How now, what dead alreadie? or is it feare that
Makes him close his eies? Ile open them.

Rut.
So lookes the pent vp Lion on the lambe,

And so he walkes insulting ouer his praie,
And so he turnes againe to rend his limmes in sunder,
Oh Clifford, kill me with thy sword, and
Not with such a cruell threatning looke,
I am too meane a subiect for thy wrath,
Be thou reuengde on men, and let me liue.

Clif.
In vaine thou speakest poore boy: my fathers
Bloud hath stopt the passage where thy wordes shoulde enter.

Rut.
Then let my fathers blood ope it againe? he is a
Man, and Clifford cope with him.

Clif.
Had I thy brethren here, their liues and thine
Were not reuenge sufficient for me.
Or should I dig vp thy forefathers graues,
And hang their rotten coffins vp in chaines,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my hart.
The sight of anie of the house of Yorke,
Is as a furie to torment my soule.
Therefore till I root out that cursied line
And leaue not one on earth, Ile liue in hell therefore.

Rut.
Oh let me praie, before I take my death.
To thee I praie: Sweet Clifford pittie me.

Clif.
I, such pittie as my rapiers point affords.

Rut.
I neuer did thee hurt, wherefore wilt thou kill mee?

Clif.
Thy father hath.

Rut.
But twas ere I was borne.
Thou hast one sonne, for his sake pittie me,
Least in reuenge thereof, sith God is iust.

He be as miserablie slaine as I.
Oh, let me liue in prison all my daies,
And when I giue occasion of offence,
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.

Clif.
No cause? Thy Father slew my father, therefore Die.
Plantagenet I come Plantagenet,
And this thy sonnes bloud cleauing to my blade,
Shall rust vpon my weapon, till thy bloud
Congeald with his, doe make me wipe off both. Exit. Alarmes, Enter the Duke of Yorke solus.

Yorke.
Ah Yorke, post to thy castell, saue thy life,
The goale is lost thou house of Lancaster,
Thrise happie chance is it for thee and thine,
That heauen abridgde my daies and cals me hence,
But God knowes what chance hath betide my sonnes;
But this I know they haue demeand themselues,
Like men borne to renowne by life or death:
Three times this daie came Richard to my sight,
And cried courage Father: Victorie or death,
And twise so oft came Edward to my view,
With purple Faulchen painted to the hilts,
In bloud of those whom he had slaughtered.
Oh harke, I heare the drums? No waie to flie:
No waie to saue my life? And heere I staie:
And heere my life must end. Enter the Queene, Clifford, Northumberland, and souldiers.

Come bloudie Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchlesse furie to more bloud:
This is the But, and this abides your shot.

Northum.
Yeeld to our mercies proud Plantagenet.

Clif.
I, to such mercie as his ruthfull arme
With downe right paiment lent vnto my father,
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his carre,
And made an euening at the noone tide pricke.

York.
My ashes like the Phœnix maie bring forth
A bird that will reuenge it on you all,
And in that hope I cast mine eies to heauen,
Skorning what ere you can afflict me with:
Why staie you Lords? what, multitudes and feare?

Clif.
So cowards fight when they can flie no longer:
So Doues doe pecke the Rauens piersing tallents:
So desperate theeues all hopelesse of their liues,
Breath out inuectiues gainst the officers.

York.
Oh Clifford, yet bethinke thee once againe,
And in thy minde orerun my former time:
And bite thy toung that slaunderst him with cowardise,
Whose verie looke hath made thee quake ere this.

Clif.
I will not bandie with thee word for word,
But buckle with thee blowes twise two for one.

Queene.
Hold valiant Clifford for a thousand causes,
I would prolong the traitors life a while.
Wrath makes him death, speake thou Northumberland.

Nor.
Hold Clifford doe not honour him so much,
To pricke thy finger though to wound his hart:
What valure were it when a curre doth grin,
For one to thrust his hand betweene his teeth,
When he might spurne him with his foote awaie?

Tis warres prise to take all aduantages,
And ten to one, is no impeach in warres. Fight and take him.

Cliff.
I, I, so striues the Woodcocke with the gin.

North.
So doth the cunnie struggle with the net.

York.
So triumphs theeues vpon their conquered
Bootie: So true men yeeld by robbers ouermatcht.

North.
What will your grace haue done with him?

Queen.
Braue warriors Clifford & Northumberland
Come make him stand vpon this molehill here,
That aimde at mountaines with outstretched arme,
And parted but the shaddow with his hand.
Was it you that reuelde in our Parlement,
And made a prechment of your high descent?
Where are your messe of sonnes to backe you now?
The wanton Edward, and the lustie George?
Or where is that valiant Crookbackt prodegie?
Dickey your boy, that with his grumbling voice,
Was wont to cheare his Dad in mutinies?
Or amongst the rest where is your darling Rutland?
Looke Yorke? I dipt this napkin in the bloud,
That valiant Clifford with his rapiers point,
Made issue from the bosome of thy boy.
And if thine eies can water for his death,
I giue thee this to drie thy cheeks withall.
Alas poore Yorke: But that I hate thee much,
I should lament thy miserable state?
I prethee greeue to make me merrie Yorke?
Stamp raue and fret, that I maie sing and dance.
What: hath thy fierie hart so parcht thine entrailes,
That not a teare can fall for Rutlands death?

Thou wouldst be feede I see to make me sport.
Yorke cannot speake, vnlesse he vveare a crowne.
A crowne for Yorke? and Lords bow low to him.
So: hold you his hands, whilst I doe set it on.
I, now lookes he like a king?
This is he that tooke king Henries chaire,
And this is he was his adopted aire.
But how is it that great Plantagenet,
Is crownd so soone, and broke his holie oath,
As I bethinke me you should not be king,
Till our Henry had shooke hands with death,
And will you impale your head with Henries glorie,
And rob his temples of the Diadem
Now in his life against your holie oath?
Oh tis a fault too too vnpardonable.
Off with the crowne, and with the crowne his head,
And whilst we breath, take time to doe him dead.

Clif.
Thats my office for my fathers death.

Queen.
Yet stay: & lets here the Orisons he makes.

York.
She wolfe of France, but worse than Wolues of France:
Whose tongue more poison'd than the Adderstooth:
How ill beseeming is it in thy sexe,
To triumph like an Amazonian trull
Vpon his woes, whom Fortune captiuates?
But that thy face is visard like, vnchanging,
Made impudent by vse of euill deeds:
I would assaie, proud Queene to make thee blush:
To tell thee of whence thou art, from whom deriu'de,
Twere shame enough to shame thee, wert thou not shamelesse.

Thy father beares the type of king of Naples,
Of both the Sissiles and Ierusalem,
Yet not so wealthie as an English Yeoman.
Hath that poore Monarch taught thee to insult?
It needes not, or it bootes thee not proud Queene,
Vnlesse the Adage must be verifide:
That beggers mounted, run their horse to death.
Tis beautie, that oft makes women proud,
But God he wots thy snare thereof is small.
Tis gouernment, that makes them most admirde,
The contrarie doth make thee wondred at.
Tis vertue that makes them seeme deuine,
The want thereof makes thee abhominable.
Thou art as opposite to euerie good,
As the Antipodes are vnto vs,
Or as the south to the Septentrion.
Oh Tygers hart wrapt in a womans hide?
Hovv couldst thou draine the life bloud of the childe,
To bid the father wipe his eies withall,
And yet be seene to beare a womans face?
Women are milde, pittifull, and flexible,
Thou indurate, sterne, rough, remorcelesse.
Bids thou me rage? why novv thou hast thy vvill
Wouldst haue me weepe? vvhy so thou hast thy vvish.
For raging windes blowes vp a storme of teares,
And when the rage alaies the raine begins.
These teares are my sweet Rutlands obsequies,
And euerie drop begs vengeance as it fals,
On thee fell Clifford, and the false French woman.

North.
Beshrevv me but his passions moue me so,
As hardlie can I checke mine eies from teares.

York.
That face of his the hungrie Cannibals
Could not haue tucht, would not haue staind with bloud
But you are more inhumaine, more inexorable,
O ten times more then Tygers of Arcadia.
See ruthlesse Queene a haplesse fathers teares.
This cloth thou dipts in bloud of my sweet boy,
And loe with teares I wash the bloud awaie.
Keepe thou the napkin and go boast of that,
And if thou tell the heauie storie well,
Vpon my soule the hearers will sheed teares,
I, euen my foes will sheed fast falling teares,
And saie, alas, it was a pitteous deed.
Here, take the crowne, and with the crowne my curse,
And in thy need such comfort come to thee,
As now I reape at thy tvvo cruell hands.
Hard-harted Clifford, take me from the world,
My soule to heauen, my bloud vpon your heads.

North.
Had he bin slaughterman of all my kin,
I could not chuse but weepe with him to see,
How inlie anger gripes his hart.

Quee.
What weeping ripe, my Lorde Northumberland?
Thinke but vpon the wrong he did vs all,
And that will quicklie drie your melting tears.

Clif.
Thears for my oath thears for my fathers death.

Queene.
And thears to right our gentle harted kind.

York.
Open thy gates of mercie gratious God,
My soule flies foorth to meet with thee.

Queene.
Off with his head and set it on Yorke Gates,
So Yorke maie ouerlooke the towne of Yorke. Exeunt omnes.

Enter Edward and Richard, with drum and Souldiers.

Edw.
After this dangerous fight and haplesse warre,
How doth my noble brother Richard fare?

Rich.
I cannot ioy vntil I be resolu'de,
Where our right valiant father is become,
How often did I see him beare himselfe,
As doth a lion midst a heard of neat,
So fled his enemies our valiant father,
Me thinkes tis pride enough to be his sonne. Three sunnes appeare in the aire.

Edw.
Loe how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewell of the glorious sun,
Dasell mine eies or doe I see three suns?

Rich.
Three glorious suns, not seperated by a racking
Cloud, but seuered in a pale cleere shining skie.
See, see, they ioine, embrace, and seeme to kisse,
As if they vowde some league inuiolate:
Now are they but one lampe, one light, one sun,
In this the heauens doth figure some euent.

Edw.
I thinke it cites vs brother to the field,
That we the sonnes of braue Plantagenet,
Alreadie each one shining by his meed,
May ioine in one and ouerpeere the world,
As this the earth, and therefore hence forward,
Ile beare vpon my Target, three faire shining suns.
But what art thou? that lookest so heauilie?

Mes.
Oh one that was a wofull looker on,
When as the noble Duke of Yorke was slaine.

Edw.
O speake no more, for I can heare no more.

Rich.
Tell on thy tale, for I will heare it all.

Mes.
When as the noble Duke was put to flight,
And then pursu'de by Clifford and the Queene,
And manie souldiers moe, who all at once
Let driue at him and forst the Duke to yeeld:
And then they set him on a molehill there,
And crownd the gratious Duke in high despite,
Who then with teares began to waile his fall.
The ruthlesse Queene perceiuing he did weepe,
Gaue him a handkercher to wipe his eies,
Dipt in the bloud of sweet young Rutland
By rough Clifford slain: who weeping tooke it vp.
Then through his brest they thrust their bloudy swordes,
Who like a lambe fell at the butchers feete.
Then on the gates of Yorke they set his head,
And there it doth remaine the piteous spectacle
That ere mine eies beheld.

Edw.
Sweet Duke of Yorke our prop to leane vpon,
Now thou art gone there is no hope for vs:
Now my soules pallace is become a prison.
Oh would she breake from compasse of my breast,
For neuer shall I haue more ioie.

Rich.
I cannot weepe, for all my breasts moisture
Scarse serues to quench my furnace burning hart:
I cannot ioie till this white rose be dide,
Euen in the hart bloud of the house of Lancaster.
Richard I bare thy name, and Ile reuenge thy death,
Or die my selfe in seeking of reuenge.

Edw.
His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee,
His chaire and Dukedome that remaines for me.

Rich.
Nay, if thou be that princely Eagles bird,
Shew thy descent by gazing gainst the sunne.

For chaire, and dukedome, Throne and kingdome saie:
For either that is thine, or else thou wert not his? Enter the Earle of Warwike, Montague, with drum, ancient, and souldiers.

War.
How now faire Lords: what fare? what newes abroad?

Rich.
Ah Warwike? should we report the balefull
Newes, and at each words deliuerance stab poinyardes
In our flesh till all were told, the words would adde
More anguish then the wounds.
Ah valiant Lord the Duke of Yorke is slaine.

Edw.
Ah Warwike Warwike, that Plantagenet,
Which held thee deere: I, euen as his soules redemption,
Is by the sterne L. Clifford, done to death.

War.
Ten daies a go I drownd those newes in teares.
And now to adde more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things since then befalne.
After the bloudie fraie at Wakefield fought,
Where your braue father breath'd his latest gaspe,
Tidings as swiflie as the post could runne,
Was brought me of your losse, and his departure.
I then in London keeper of the King,
Mustred my souldiers, gathered flockes of friends,
And verie vvell appointed as I thought,
Marcht to saint Albons to entercept the Queene,
Bearing the King in my behalfe along,
For by my scoutes I was aduertised,
That she was comming, with a full intent
To dash your late decree in parliament,
Touching king Henries heires and your succession.
Short tale to make, we at Saint Albons met,

Our battels ioinde, and both sides fiercelie fought,
But whether twas the coldnesse of the king,
He lookt full gentlie on his warlike Queene,
That robde my souldiers of their heated spleene.
Or whether twas report of his successe,
Or more then common feare of Cliffords rigor,
Who thunders to his captaines bloud and death,
I cannot tell. But to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightnings went and came.
Our souldiers like the night Owles lasie flight,
Or like an idle thresher with a flaile,
Fel gentlie downe as if they smote their friends.
I cheerd them vp with iustice of the cause,
With promise of hie paie and great rewardes,
But all in vaine, they had no harts to fight,
Nor we in them no hope to win the daie,
So that We fled. The king vnto the Queene,
Lord George your brother, Norffolke, and my selfe,
In hast, post hast, are come to ioine with you,
For in the marches here we heard you were,
Making another head to fight againe.

Edw.
Thankes gentle Warwike.
How farre hence is the Duke with his power?
And when came George from Burgundie to England?

War.
Some fiue miles off the Duke is with his power,
But as for your brother he was latelie sent
From your kind Aunt, Duches of Burgundie,
With aide of souldiers gainst this needfull warre.

Rich.
Twas ods belike, when valiant Warwike fled.
Oft haue I heard thy praises in pursute,
But nere till now thy scandall of retire.

War.
Nor now my scandall Richard dost thou heare,
For thou shalt know that this right hand of mine,
Can plucke the Diadem from faint Henries head,
And wring the awefull scepter from his fist:
Were he as famous and as bold in warre,
As he is famde for mildnesse, peace and praier.

Rich.
I know it well Lord Warwike blame me not,
Twas loue I bare thy glories made me speake.
But in this troublous time, whats to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coates of steele,
And clad our bodies in blacke mourning gownes,
Numbring our Auemaries with our beades?
Or shall we on the helmets of our foes,
Tell our deuotion with reuengefull armes?
If for the last saie I, and to it Lords.

War.
Why therefore Warwike came to find you out,
And therefore comes my brother Montague.
Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene,
With Clifford and the haught Northumberland,
And of their feather manie mo proud birdes,
Haue wrought' the easie melting king like waxe.
He sware consent to your succession,
His oath inrolled in the Parliament.
But now to London all the crew are gone,
To frustrate his oath or what besides
May make against the house of Lancaster.
Their power I gesse them fifty thousand strong.
Now if the helpe of Norffolke, and my selfe,
Can but amount to 48. thousand,
With all the friendes that thou braue earle of March,
Among the louing Welshmen canst procure,

Why via, To London will we march amaine,
And once againe bestride our foming steedes,
And once againe crie charge vpon the foe,
But neuer once againe turne backe and flie.

Rich.
I, now me thinkes I heare great Warwike speake:
Nere maie he liue to see a sunshine daie,
That cries retire, when Warwike bids him stay.

Edw.
Lord Warwike, on thy shoulder will I leane,
And when thou faints, must Edward fall:
Which perill heauen forefend.

War.
No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke,
The next degree, is Englands royall king:
And king of England shalt thou be proclaimde,
In euery burrough as we passe along:
And he that casts not vp his cap for ioie,
Shall for the offence make forfeit of his head.
King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague,
Stay we no longer dreaming of renowne,
But forward to effect these resolutions. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
The Duke of Norffolke sends you word by me,
The Queene is comming with a puissant power,
And craues your companie for speedie councell.

War.
Why then it sorts braue Lordes. Lets march away. Exeunt Omnes. Enter the King and Queene, Prince Edward and the Northerne Earles, with drum and Souldiers.

Quee.
Welcome my Lord to this braue town of York,
Yonders the head of that ambitious enemie,
That sought to be impaled with your crowne.

Doth not the obiect please your eie my Lord?

King.
Euen as the rockes please them that feare their wracke.
Withhold reuenge deare God, tis not my fault,
Nor wittinglie haue I infringde my vow.

Clif.
My gratious Lord, this too much lenitie,
And harmefull pittie must be laid aside,
To whom do Lyons cast their gentle lookes?
Not to the beast that would vsurpe his den.
Whose hand is that the sauage Beare doth licke?
Not his that spoiles his young before his face.
Whose scapes the lurking serpentes mortall sting?
Not he that sets his foot vpon her backe.
The smallest worme will turne being troden on,
And Doues will pecke, in rescue of their broode.
Ambitious Yorke did leuell at thy Crowne,
Thou smiling, while he knit his angrie browes.
He but a Duke, would haue his sonne a king,
And raise his issue like a louing sire.
Thou being a king blest with a goodlie sonne,
Didst giue consent to disinherit him,
Which argude thee a most vnnaturall father.
Vnreasonable creatures feed their yong,
And though mans face be fearefull to their eies,
Yet in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seene them euen with those same wings
Which they haue sometime vsde in fearefull flight,
Make warre with him, that climes vnto their nest,
Offring their owne liues in their yongs defence?
For shame my Lord, make them your president,
Were it not pittie that this goodlie boy,

Should lose his birth right through his fathers fault?
And long hereafter saie vnto his child,
What my great grandfather and grandsire got,
My carelesse father fondlie gaue awaie?
Looke on the boy and let his manlie face,
Which promiseth successefull fortune to vs all,
Steele thy melting thoughtes,
To keepe thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him.

King.
Full wel hath Clifford plaid the Orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force.
But tell me, didst thou neuer yet heare tell.
That things euill got had euer bad successe,
And happie euer was it for that sonne,
Whose father for his hoording went to hell?
I leaue my sonne my vertuous deedes behind,
And would my father had left me no more,
For all the rest is held at such a rate,
As askes a thousand times more care to keepe,
Then maie the present profit counteruaile.
Ah cosen Yorke, would thy best friendes did know,
How it doth greeue me that thy head stands there.

Quee.
My Lord this harmefull pittie makes your followers faint.
You promisde knighthood to your princelie sonne.
Vnsheath your sword and straight doe dub him knight.
Kneele downe Edward.

King.
Edward Plantagenet arise a knight,
And learne this lesson boy draw thy thy sword in right

Prince.
My gratious father by your kingly leaue,
Ile draw it as apparant to the crowne,
And in that quarrel vse it to the death.

Northum.
Why that is spoken like a toward prince. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
Royall commaunders be in readinesse,
For with a band of fiftie thousand men,
Comes Warwike backing of the Duke of Yorke.
And in the townes whereas they passe along,
Proclaimes him king, and manie flies to him,
Prepare your battels, for they be at hand.

Clif.
I would your highnesse would depart the field,
The Queene hath best successe when you are absent.

Quee.
Do good my Lord, and leaue vs to our fortunes.

King.
Why thats my fortune, therefore Ile stay still.

Clif.
Be it with resolution then to fight.

Prince.
Good father cheere these noble Lords,
Vnsheath your sword, sweet father crie Saint George.

Clif.
Pitch we our battell heere, for hence wee will not moue. Enter the house of Yorke.

Edward
Now periurde Henrie vvilt thou yeelde thy crovvne,
And kneele for mercie at thy soueraignes feete?

Queen.
Go rate thy minions proud insulting boy,
Becomes it thee to be thus malepert,
Before thy king and lawfull soueraigne?

Edw.
I am his king and he should bend his knee,
I was adopted heire by his consent.

George.
Since when he hath broke his oath.
For as we heare you that are king
Though he doe weare the Crowne,
Haue causde him by new act of Parlement
To blot our brother out, and put his owne son in.

Clif.
And reason George. Who should succeede the father but the son?

Rich.
Are you their butcher?

Clif.
I Crookbacke, here I stand to answere thee, or any of your sort.

Rich.
Twas you that kild yong Rutland, was it not?

Clif.
Yes, and old Yorke too, and yet not satisfide.

Rich.
For Gods sake Lords giue synald to the fight.

War.
What saiest thou Henry? wilt thou yeelde thy crowne?

Queen.
What, long tongde War. dare you speake?
When you and I met at saint Albones last,
Your legs did better seruice than your hands.

War.
I, then twas my turne to flee, but now tis thine.

Clif.
You said so much before, and yet you fled.

War.
Twas not your valour Clifford, that droue mee thence.

Northum.
No nor your manhood Warwike, that could make you staie.

Rich.
Northumberland, Northumberland, wee holde
Thee reuerentlie. Breake off the parlie, for scarse
I can refraine the execution of my big swolne
Hart, against that Clifford there, that
Cruell child-killer.

Clif.
Why I kild thy father, calst thou him a child?

Rich.
I like a villaine, and atrecherous coward,
As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland.
But ere sunne set Ile make thee curse the deed.

King.
Haue doone with wordes great Lordes, and Heare me speake.

Queen.
Defie them then, or else hold close thy lips.

King.
I prethe giue no limits to my tongue,
I am king and priuiledge to speake.

Clif.
My Lord the wound that bred this meeting here
Cannot be cru'd with words, therefore be still.

Rich.
Then executioner vnsheath thy sword,
By him that made vs all I am resolu'de,
That Cliffords manhood hangs vpon his tongue.

Edw.
What saist thou Henry, shall I haue my right or no?
A thousand men haue broke their fast to daie,
That nere shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the crowne.

War.
If thou denie their blouds be on thy head,
For Yorke in iustice puts his armour on.

Prin.
If all be right that Warwike saies is right,
There is no wrong but all things must be right.

Rich.
Whosoeuer got thee, there thy mother stands,
For well I wot thou hast thy mothers tongue.

Queen.
But thou art neither like thy sire nor dam,
But like a soule mishapen stygmaticke
Markt by the destinies to be auoided,
As venome Todes, or Lizards fainting lookes.

Rich.
Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,
Thy father beares the title of a king,
As if a channell should be calde the Sea;
Shames thou not, knowing from whence thou art de-
Riu'de, to parlie thus with Englands lawfull heires?

Edw.
A wispe of straw were worth a thousand crowns,
To make that shamelesse callet know herselfe,
Thy husbands father reueld in the hart of France,
And tam'de the French, and made the Dolphin stoope:
And had he macht according to his state,

He might haue kept that glorie till this daie.
But when he tooke a begger to his bed,
And gracst thy poore sire with his bridall daie,
Then that sun-shine bred a showre for him
Which washt his fathers fortunes out of France,
And heapt seditions on his crowne at home.
For what hath mou'd these tumults but thy pride?
Hadst thou beene meeke, our title yet had slept?
And we in pittie of the gentle king,
Had slipt our claime vntill an other age.

George.
But when we saw our summer brought the gaine,
And that the haruest brought vs no increase,
We set the axe to thy vsurping root,
And though the edge haue something hit our selues,
Yet know thou we will neuer cease to strike,
Till we haue hewne thee down,
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated blouds.

Edw.
And in this resolution, I defie thee,
Not willing anie longer conference,
Since thou deniest the gentle king to speake.
Sound trumpets, let our bloudie colours waue,
And either victorie or else a graue.

Quee.
Staie Edward staie.

Edw.
Hence wrangling woman, Ile no longer staie,
Thy words will cost ten thousand liues to daie. Exeunt Omnes. Alarmes. Enter Warwike.

War.
Sore spent with toile as runners with the race,
I laie me downe a little while to breath,
For strokes receiude, and manie blowes repaide,

Hath robd my strong knit sinnews of their strength,
And force perforce needes must I rest my selfe. Enter Edward.

Edw.
Smile gentle heauens or strike vngentle death,
That we maie die vnlesse we gaine the daie:
What fatall starre malignant frownes from heauen
Vpon the harmelesse line of Yorkes true house? Enter George.

George.
Come brother, come, lets to the field againe,
For yet theres hope inough to win the daie:
Then let vs backe to cheere our sainting Troupes,
Lest they retire now we haue left the field.

War.
How now my lords: what hap, what hope of good? Enter Richard running.

Rich.
Ah Warwike, why haste thou withdrawne thy selfe?
Thy noble father in the thickest thronges,
Cride still for Warwike his thrise valiant son,
Vntill with thousand swords he was beset,
And manie wounds made in his aged brest,
And as he tottering sate vpon his steede,
He waft his hand to me and cride aloud.
Richard, commend me to my valiant sonne,
And still he cride Warwike reuenge my death,
And with those words he tumbled off his horse,
And so the noble Salsbury gaue vp the ghost.

War.
Then let the earth be drunken with his bloud,
Ile kill my horse because I will not flie:
And here to God of heauen I make a vow,
Neuer to passe from forth this bloudy field
Till I am full reuenged for his death.

Edw.
Lord Warwike, Idoe bend my knees with thine,

And in that vow now ioine my soule to thee,
Thou setter vp and puller downe of kings,
vouchsafe a gentle victorie to vs,
Or let vs die before we loose the daie:

George.
Then let vs haste to cheere the souldiers harts,
And call them pillers that will stand to vs,
And hiely promise to remunerate
Their trustie seruice, in these dangerous warres.

Rich.
Come, come awaie, and stand not to debate,
For yet is hope of fortune good enough.
Brothers, giue me your hands, and let vs part
And take our leaues vntill we meet againe,
Where ere it be in heauen or in earth.
Now I that neuer wept, now melt in wo,
To see these dire mishaps continue so.
Warwike farewel.

War.
Awaie awaie, once more sweet Lords farewell. Exeunt Omnes. Alarmes, and then enter Richard at one dore and Clifford at the other.

Rich.
A Clifford a Clifford.

Clif.
A Richard a Richard.

Rich.
Now Clifford, for Yorke & young Rutlands death,
This thirsty sword that longs to drinke thy bloud,
Shall lop thy limmes, and slise thy cursed hart,
For to reuenge the murders thou hast made.

Clif.
Now Richard, I am with thee here alone,
This is the hand that stabd thy father Yorke,
And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland,
And heres the heart that triumphs in their deathes,
And cheeres these hands that slew thy sire and brother,

To execute the like vpon thy selfe,
And so haue at thee. Alarmes. They fight, and then enters Warwike and rescues Richard, & then exeunt omnes. Alarme still, and then enter Henry Solus.

Hen.
Oh gratious God of heauen looke downe on vs,
And set some endes to these incessant griefes,
How like a mastlesse ship vpon the seas,
This woful battaile doth continue still,
Now leaning this way, now to that side driue,
And none doth know to whom the daie will fall.
O would my death might staie these ciuilliars!
Would I had neuer raind, nor nere bin king,
Margret and Clifford, chide me from the fielde,
Swearing they had best successe when I was thence.
Would God that I were dead so all were well,
Or would my crowne suffice, I were content
To yeeld it them and liue a priuate life. Enter a souldier with a dead man in his armes.

Sould
Il blowes the wind that profits no bodie,
This man that I haue slaine in fight to daie,
Maie be possessed of some store of crownes,
And I will search to find them if I can,
But stay. Me thinkes it is my fathers face,
Oh I tis he whom I haue slaine in fight,
From London was I prest out by the king,
My father he came on the part of Yorke,
And in this conflict I haue slaine my father:
Oh pardon God, I knew not what I did,
And pardon father, for I knew thee not. Enter another souldier with a dead man.

2. Soul.
Lie there thou that foughtst with me so stoutly,
Now let me see what store of gold thou haste,
But staie, me thinkes this is no famous face:
Oh no it is my sonne that I haue slaine in fight,
O monstrous times begetting such euents,
How cruel bloudy, and ironious,
This deadlie quarrell dailie doth beget,
Poore boy thy father gaue thee lif too late,
And hath bereau'de thee of thy life too sone.

King
Wo aboue wo, griefe more then common griefe,
Whilst Lyons warre and battaile for their dens,
Poore lambs do feele the rigor of their wraths:
The red rose and the white are on his face,
The fatall colours of our striuing houses,
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish,
For if you striue, ten thousand liues must perish.

1. Sould.
How will my mother for my fathers death,
Take on with me and nere be satisfide?

2. Sol.
How will my wife for slaughter of my son,
Take on with me and nere be satisfide?

King.
How will the people now misdeeme their king.
Oh would my death their mindes could satisfie.

1. Sould.
Was euer son so rude his fathers bloud to spil?

2, Soul.
Was euer father so vnnaturall his son to kill?

King.
Was euer king thus greeud and vexed still?

1. Sould.
Ile beare thee hence from this accursed place,
For wo is me to see my fathers face. Exit with his father.

2. Soul.
Ile beare thee hence & let them fight that wil,
For I haue murdered where I should not kill. Exit with his sonne.

K Hen.
Weepe wretched man, Ile lay thee teare for tear,
Here sits a king as woe begone as thee. Alarmes and enter the Queene.

Queen.
Awaie my Lord to Barwicke presentlie,
The daie is lost, our friends are murdered,
No hope is left for vs, therefore awaie. Enter prince Edward.

Prince.
Oh father flie, our men haue left the field,
Take horse sweet father, let vs saue our selues. Enter Exeter.

Exet.
Awaie my Lord for vengance comes along with him:
Nay stand not to expostulate make hast,
Or else come after, Ile awaie before.

K Hen.
Naie staie good Exeter, for Ile along with thee. Enter Clifford wounded, with an arrow in his necke.

Clif.
Heere burnes my candell out,
That whilst it lasted gaue king Henry light.
Ah Lancaster, I feare thine ouerthrow,
More then my bodies parting from my soule.
My loue and feare glude manie friendes to thee,
And now I die, that tough commixture melts.
Impairing Henry strengthened misproud Yorke,
The common people swarme like summer flies,
And whither flies the Gnats but to the sun?
And who shines now but Henries enemie?
Oh Phœbus hadst thou neuer giuen consent,
That Phaeton should checke thy fierie steedes,
Thy burning carre had neuer scorcht the earth.
And Henry hadst thou liu'd as kings should doe,
And as thy father and his father did,

Giuing no foot vnto the house of Yorke,
I and ten thousand in this wofull land,
Had left no mourning Widdowes for our deathes,
And thou this daie hadst kept thy throne in peace.
For what doth cherish weedes but gentle aire?
And what makes robbers bold but lenitie?
Bootlesse are plaintes, and curelesse are my woundes,
No waie to flie, no strength to hold our flight,
The foe is mercilesse and will not pittie me,
And at their hands I haue deserude no pittie.
The aire is got into my bleeding wounds,
And much effuse of bloud doth make me faint,
Come Yorke and Richard, Warwike and the rest,
I stabde your fathers, now come split my brest. Enter Edward, Richard and Warwike, and Souldiers.

Edw.
Thus farre our fortunes keepes an vpward
Course, and we are grast with wreathes of victorie.
Some troopes pursue the bloudie minded Queene,
That now towards Barwike doth poste amaine,
But thinke you that Clifford is fled awaie with them?

War.
No, tis impossible he should escape,
For though before his face I speake the words,
Your brother Richard markt him for the graue.
And where so ere he be I warrant him dead. Clifford grones and then dies.

Edw.
Harke, what soule is this that takes his heauy leaue?

Rich.
A deadlie grone, like life and deaths departure.

Edw.
See who it is, and now the battailes ended,
Friend or foe, let him be friendlie vsed.

Rich.
Reuerse that doome of mercie, for tis Clifford.

Who kild our tender brother Rutland,
And stabd our princelie father Duke of Yorke.

War.
From off the gates of Yorke fetch downe the
Head, Your fathers head which Clifford placed there,
Insteed of that, let his supplie the roome.
Measure for measure must be answered.

Edw.
Bring forth that fatall skrichowle to our house,
That nothing sung to vs but bloud and death,
Now his euill boding tongue no more shall speake.

War.
I thinke his vnderstanding is bereft.
Say Clifford, doest thou know who speakes to thee?
Darke cloudie death oreshades his beames of life,
And he nor sees nor heares vs what we saie.

Rich.
Oh would he did, and so perhaps he doth,
And tis his policie that in the time of death,
He might auoid such bitter stormes as he
In his houre of death did giue vnto our father.

George.
Richard if thou thinkest so, vex him with eager words.

Rich.
Clifford, aske mercie and obtaine no grace.

Edw.
Clifford, repent in bootlesse penitence.

War.
Clifford deuise excuses for thy fault.

George.
Whilst we deuise fell tortures for thy fault.

Rich.
Thou pittiedst Yorke, and I am sonne to Yorke.

Edw.
Thou pittiedst Rutland, and I will pittie thee.

George.
Wheres captaine Margaret to fence you now?

War.
They mocke thee Clifford, sweare as thou wast wont.

Rich.
What not an oth? Nay, then I know hees dead,

Tis hard, when Clifford cannot foord his friend an oath.
By this I know hees dead, and by my soule,
Would this right hand buy but an howres life,
That I in all contempt might raile at him.
Ide cut it off and with the issuing bloud,
Stifle the villaine whose instanched thirst,
Yorke and young Rutland could not satisfie.

War.
I, but he is dead, off with the traitors head,
And reare it in the place your fathers stands.
And now to London with triumphant march,
There to be crowned Englands lawfull king.
From thence shall Warwike crosse the seas to France,
And aske the ladie Bona for thy Queene,
So shalt thou sinew both these landes togither,
And hauing France thy friend thou needst not dread,
The scattered foe that hopes to rise againe.
And though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet looke to haue them busie to offend thine eares.
First Ile see the coronation done,
And afterward Ile crosse the seas to France,
To effect this marriage if it please my Lord.

Edw.
Euen as thou wilt good Warwike let it be.
But first before we goe, George kneele downe.
We here create thee Duke of Clarence, and girt thee with the sword.
Our younger brother Richard Duke of Glocester.
Warwike as my selfe shal do & vndo as him pleaseth best.

Rich.
Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloster,
For Glosters Dukedome is too ominous.

War.
Tush thats a childish obseruation.
Richard be Duke of Gloster. Now to London.

To see these honors in possession. Exeunt Omnes. Enter two keepers with bow and arrowes.

Keeper.
Come, lets take our stands vpon this hill,
And by and by the deere will come this waie.
But staie, heere comes a man, lets listen him a while. Enter king Henrie disguisde.

Hen.
From Scotland am I stolne euen of pure loue,
And thus disguisde to greet my natiue land.
No, Henrie no. It is no land of thine,
No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
No humble suters sues to thee for right,
For how canst thou helpe them and not thy selfe?

Keeper.
I marrie sir, here is a deere, his skin is a
Keepers fee. Sirra stand close, for as I thinke,
This is the king, king Edward hath deposde.

Hen.
My Queene and sonne poore soules are gone to
France, and as I heare the great commanding Warwike,
To intreat a marriage with the ladie Bona,
If this be true; poore Queene and sonne,
Your labour is but spent in vaine,
For Lewis is a prince soone wun with words,
And Warwike is a subtill Orator.
He laughes and saies, his Edward is instalde,
She weepes, and saies her Henry is deposde,
He on his right hand asking a wife for Edward,
She on his left side crauing aide for Henry.

Keeper.
What art thou that talkes of kings and queens?

Hen.
More then I seeme, for lesse I should not be.
A man at least, and more I cannot be,
And men maie talke of kings, and why not I?

Keeper.
I but thou talkest as if thou wert a king thy selfe.

Hen.
Why so I am in mind though not in shew.

Keeper.
And if thou be a king where is thy crowne?

[Second section]

Hen.
My crowne is in my hart, not on my head.
My crowne is calde content, a crowne that
Kings doe seldome times enioy.

Keeper.
And if thou be a king crownd with content,
Your crowne content and you, must be content
To go with vs vnto the officer, for as we thinke
You are our quondam king, K. Edward hath deposde,
And therefore we charge you in Gods name & the kings
To go along with vs vnto the officers.

Hen.
Gods name be fulfild, your kings name be
Obaide, and be you kings, command and Ile obay. Exeunt Omnes. Enter king Edward, Clarence, and Gloster, Montague, Hastings, and the Lady Gray.

K Edw.
Brothers of Clarence, and of Glocester,
This ladies husband heere sir Richard Gray,
At the battaile of saint Alkones did lose his life,
His lands then were seazed on by the conqueror.
Her sute is now to repossesse those lands,
And sith in quarrell of the house of Yorke,
The noble gentleman did lose his life,
In honor we cannot denie her sute.

Glo.
Your highnesse shall doe well to grant it then.

K Edw
I, so I will, but yet Ile make a pause.

Glo.
I, is the wind in that doore?

Clarence,
I see the Lady hath some thing to grant,
Before the king will grant her humble sute.

Cla.
He knows the game, how well he keepes the wind.

K Ed.
Widow come some other time to know our mind.

La.
May it please your grace I cannot brooke delaies,
I beseech your highnesse to dispatch me now.

K Ed.
Lords giue vs leaue, wee meane to trie this widowes wit.

Cla.
I, good leaue haue you.

Glo.
For you will haue leaue till youth take leaue,
And leaue you to your crouch.

K Ed.
Come hither widdow, howe many children haste thou?

Cla.
I thinke he meanes to begge a child on her.

Glo.
Nay whip me then, heele rather giue hir two.

La.
Three my most gratious Lord.

Glo.
You shall haue foure and you wil be rulde by him.

K Ed.
Were it not pittie they shoulde loose their fathers lands?

La.
Be pittifull then dread L. and grant it 'them.

K Edw.
Ile tell thee how these lands are to be got.

La.
So shall you bind me to your highnesse seruice.

K Ed.
What seruice wilt thou doe me if I grant it them?

La.
Euen what your highnesse shall command.

Glo.
Naie then widow Ile warrant you all your
Husbands lands, if you grant to do what he
Commands. Fight close or in good faith
You catch a clap.

Cla.
Naie I feare her not vnlesse she fall.

Glo.
Marie godsforbot man, for heele take vantage then.

La.
Why stops my Lord, shall I not know my taske?

K Ed.
An easie taske, tis but to loue a king.

La.
Thats soone performde, because I am a subiect.

K Ed.
Why then thy husbandes landes I freelie giue thee.

La.
I take my leaue with manie thousand thankes.

Cla.
The match is made, shee seales it with a cursie.

K Ed
Staie widdow staie, what loue dost thou thinke
I sue so much to get?

La.
My humble seruice, such as subiects owes and the lawes commands.

K Ed.
No by my troth, I meant no such loue,
But to tell thee the troth, I aime to lie with thee.

La.
To tell you plaine my Lord, I had rather lie in prison.

K Edw.
Why then thou canst not get thy husbandes lands.

La.
Then mine honestie shall be my dower,
For by that losse I will not purchase them.

K Ed.
Herein thou wrongst thy children mightilie.

La.
Heerein your highnesse wrongs both them and
Me, but mightie Lord this merrie inclination
Agrees not with the sadnesse of my sute.
Please it your highnes to dismisse me either with I or no.

K Ed/
I, if thou saie I to my request,
No, if thou saie no to my demand.

La.
Then no my Lord, my sute is at an end.

Glo.
The widdow likes him not, shee bends the brow.

Cla.
Why he is the bluntest woer in christendome.

K Ed/
Her lookes are all repleat with maiestie,
One waie or other she is for a king,
And she shall be my loue or else my Queene.
Saie that king Edward tooke thee for his Queene.

La.
Tis better said then done, my gratious Lord,

I am a subiect fit to iest withall,
But far vnfit to be a Soueraigne.

K Edw.
Sweet widdow, by my state I sweare, I speake
No more then what my hart intends,
And that is to enioie thee for my loue.

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

K Edw.
You cauill widdow, I did meane my Queene.

La.
Your grace would be loath my sonnes should call you father.

K Edw.
No more then when my daughters call thee
Mother. Thou art a widow and thou hast some children,
And by Gods mother I being but a bacheler
Haue other some. Why tis a happy thing
To be the father of manie children.
Argue no more, for thou shalt be my Queene.

Glo.
The ghostlie father now hath done his shrift.

Cla.
When he was made a shriuer twas for shift.

K Edw.
Brothers, you muse what talke the widdow
And I haue had, you would thinke it strange
If I should marrie her.

Cla.
Marrie her my Lord, to whom?

K Edw.
Why Clarence to my selfe.

Glo.
That would be ten daies wonder at the least.

Cla.
Why thats a daie longer then a wonder lastes.

Glo.
And so much more are the wonders in extreames.

K Edw.
Well, ieast on brothers, I can tell you, hir
Sute is granted for her husbands lands. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
And it please your grace, Henry your foe is

Taken, and brought as prisoner to your pallace gates.

K Edw.
Awaie with him and send him to the Tower,
And let vs go question with the man about
His apprehension. Lords along, and vse this
Ladie honorablie. Exeunt Omnes. Manet Gloster and speakes.

Glost.
I, Edward will vse women honourablie,
Would he were wasted marrow, bones and all,
That from his loines no issue might succeed
To hinder me from the golden time I looke for,
For I am not yet lookt on in the world.
First is there Edward, Clarence, and Henry
And his sonne, and all they lookt for issue
Of their loines ere I can plant my selfe,
A cold premeditation for my purpose,
What other pleasure is there in the world beside?
I will go clad my bodie in gaie ornaments,
And lull my selfe within a ladies lap,
And witch sweet Ladies with my words and lookes.
Oh monstrous man, to harbour such a thought!
Why loue did scorne me in my mothers wombe.
And for I should not deale in hir affaires,
Shee did corrupt fraile nature in the flesh,
And plaste an enuious mountaine on my backe,
Where sits deformity to mocke my bodie,
To drie mine arme vp like a withered shrimpe.
To make my legges of an vnequall size,
And am I then a man to be belou'd?
Easier for me to compasse twentie crownes.
Tut I can smile, and murder when I smile,
I crie content, to that that greeues me most.

I can adde colours to the Camelion,
And for a need change shapes with Protheus,
And set the aspiring Catalin to schoole.
Can I doe this, and cannot get the crowne?
Tush were it ten times higher, Ile pull it downe. Exit. Enter king Lewis and the ladie Bona, and Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford and others.

Lewes.
Welcome Queene Margaret to the Court of France,
It fits not Lewis to sit while thou dost stand,
Sit by my side, and here I vow to thee,
Thou shalt haue aide to repossesse thy right,
And beat proud Edward from his vsurped seat.
And place king Henry in his former rule.

Queen.
I humblie thanke your royall maiestie.
And pray the God of heauen to blesse thy state,
Great king of France, that thus regards our wrongs. Enter Warwike.

Lew.
How now, who is this?

Queen.
Our Earle of Warwike Edwardes chiefest friend.

Lew.
Welcome braue Warwike, what brings thee to France?

War.
From worthy Edward king of England,
My Lord and Soueraigne and thy vowed friend,
I come in kindnes and vnfained loue,
First to do greetings to thy royall person,
And then to craue a league of amitie,
And lastlie to confirme that amitie
With nuptiall knot if thou vouchsafe to grant
That vertuous ladie Bona thy faire sister,

To Englands king in lawfull marriage.

Queen.
And if this go forward all our hope is done.

War.
And gratious Madam, in our kings behalfe,
I am commanded with your loue and fauour,
Humblie to kisse your hand and with my tongue,
To tell the passions of my soueraines hart,
Where same late entring at his heedfull eares,
Hath plast thy glorious image and thy vertues.

Queen.
King Lewes and Lady Bona heare me speake,
Before you answere Warwike or his words,
For hee it is hath done vs all these wrongs.

War.
Iniurious Margaret.

Prince Ed.
And why not Queene?

War.
Because thy father Henry did vsurpe,
And thou no more art Prince then shee is Queene.

Ox.
Then Warwike disanuls great Iohn of Gaunt,
That did subdue the greatest part of Spaine,
And after Iohn of Gaunt wise Henry the fourth,
Whose wisedome was a mirrour to the world.
And after this wise prince Henry the fift,
Who with his prowesse conquered all France,
From these our Henries lineallie discent.

War.
Oxford, how haps that in this smooth discourse
You told not how Henry the sixt had lost
All that Henry the fift had gotten.
Me thinkes these peeres of France should smile at that,
But for the rest you tell a pettigree
Of threescore and two yeares a sillie time,
To make prescription for a kingdomes worth.

Oxf.
Why Warwike, canst thou denie thy king,
Whom thou obeyedst thirtie and eight yeeres,

And bewray thy treasons with a blush?

War.
Can Oxford that did euer fence the right,
Now buckler falshood with a pettigree?
For shame leaue Henry and call Edward king.

Oxf.
Call him my king by whom mine elder
Brother the Lord Aubray Vere was done to death,
And more than so, my father euen in the
Downefall of his mellowed yeares,
When age did call him to the dore of death?
No Warwike no, whilst life vpholds this arme,
This arme vpholds the house of Lancaster.

War.
And I the house of Yorke.

K Lewes.
Queene Margaret, prince Edward and
Oxford, vouchsafe to forbeare a while,
Till I doe talke a word with Warwike.
Now Warwike euen vpon thy honor tell me true;
Is Edward lawfull king or no?
For I were loath to linke with him, that is not lawful heir.

War.
Thereon I pawne mine honour and my credit.

Lew.
What is he gratious in the peoples eies?

War.
The more, that Henry is vnfortunate.

Lew.
What is his loue to our sister Bona?

War.
Such it seemes
As maie beseeme a monarke like himselfe.
My selfe haue often heard him saie and sweare,
That this his loue was an eternall plant,
The root whereof was fixt in vertues ground,
The leaues and fruite maintainde with beauties sun,
Exempt from enuie, but not from disdaine,
Vnlesse the ladie Bona quite his paine.

Lew.
Then sister let vs heare your firme resolue.

Bona.
Your grant or your denial shall be mine,
But ere this daie I must confesse, when I
Haue heard your kings deserts recounted,
Mine eares haue tempted iudgement to desire.

Lew.
Then draw neere Queene Margaret and be a
Witnesse, that Bona shall be wife to the English king.

Prince Edw.
To Edward but not the English king.

War.
Henry now liues in Scotland at his ease,
Where hauing nothing nothing can he lose,
And as for you yourselfe our quondam Queene,
You haue a father able to mainetaine your state,
And better twere to trouble him then France. Sound for a post within.

Lew.
Here comes some post Warwike to thee or vs.

Post.
My Lord ambassador this letter is for you,
Sent from your brother Marquis Montague.
This from our king vnto your Maiestie.
And these to you Madam, from whom I know not.

Oxf.
I like it well that our faire Queene and mistresse,
Smiles at her newes when Warwike frets as his.

P. Ed.
And marke how Lewes stamps as he were nettled.

Lew.
Now Margaret & Warwike, what are your news?

Queen.
Mine such as fils my hart full of ioie.

War.
Mine full of sorrow and harts discontent.

Lew.
What hath your king married the Ladie Gray,
And now to excuse himselfe sends vs a post of papers?
How dares he presume to vse vs thus?

Quee.
This proueth Edwards loue, & Warwiks honesty.

War.
King Lewis, I here protest in sight of heauen,
And by the hope I haue of heauenlie blisse,
That I am cleare from this misdeed of Edwards.

No more my king, for he dishonours me,
And most himselfe, if he could see his shame.
Did I forget that by the house of Yorke.
My father came vntimelie to his death?
Did I let passe the abuse done to my neece?
Did I impale him with the regall Crowne,
And thrust king Henry from his natiue home,
And most vngratefull doth he vse me thus?
My gratious Queene pardon what is past,
And henceforth I am thy true seruitour,
I will reuenge the wrongs done to ladie Bona,
And replant Henry in his former state.

Queen.
Yes Warwike I doe quite forget thy former
Faults, if now thou wilt become king Henries friend.

War.
So much his friend, I his vnfained friend,
That if king Lewes vouchsafe to furnish vs
With some few bands of chosen souldiers,
Ile vndertake to land them on our coast,
And force the Tyrant from his seate by warre,
Tis not his new made bride shall succour him.

Lew.
Then at the last I firmelie am resolu'd,
You shall haue aide: and English messenger returne
In post, and tell false Edward thy supposed king,
That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers
To reuell it with him and his new bride.

Bona.
Tell him in hope heele be a Widower shortlie,
Ile weare the willow garland for his sake.

Queen.
Tell him my mourning weedes be laide aside,
And I am readie to put armour on.

War.
Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile vncrowne him er't be long.

Thears thy reward, begone.

Lew.
But now tell me Warwike, what assurance
I shall haue of thy true loyaltie?

War.
This shall assure my constant loyaltie,
If that our Queene and this young prince agree,
Ile ioine mine eldest daughter and my ioie
To him forthwith in holie wedlockes bandes.

Queen.
Withall my hart, that match I like full wel,
Loue her sonne Edward, shee is faire and yong,
And giue thy hand to Warwike for thy loue.

Lew.
It is enough, and now we will prepare,
To leuie souldiers for to go with you.
And you Lord Bourbon our high Admirall,
Shall waft them safelie to the English coast,
And chase proud Edward from his slumbring trance,
For mocking marriage with the name of France.

War.
I came from Edward as Imbassadour
But I returne his sworne and mortall foe:
Matter of marriage was the charge he gaue me,
But dreadfull warre shall answere his demand.
Had he none else to make a stale but me?
Then none but I shall turne his iest to sorrow.
I was the chiefe that raisde him to the crowne,
And Ile be chiefe to bring him downe agaiue,
Not that I pittie Henries miserie,
But seeke reuenge on Edwards mockerie. Exit. Enter king Edward, the Queene and Clarence, and Gloster, and Montague and Hastings, and Penbrooke, with souldiers.

Edw.
Brothers of Clarence and of Glocester,
What thinke you of our marriage with the ladie Gray?

Cla.
My Lord, we thinke as Warvvike and Levves
That are so slacke in iudgement, that theile take
No offence at this suddaine marriage.

Edw.
Suppose they doe, they are but Levves and
Warvvike, and I am your king and Warvvikes,
  And will be obaied.

Glo.
And shall, because our king but yet such
Sudden marriages seldome proueth well.

Edw.
Yea brother Richard are you against vs too?

Glo.
Not I my Lord, no, God forefend that I should
Once gaine saie your highnesse pleasure,
I, & twere a pittie to sunder them that yoake so wel togither.

Edw.
Setting your skornes and your dislikes aside,
Shew me some reasons why the Ladie Gray,
Maie not be my loue and Englands Queene?
Speake freelie Clarence, Gloster,
Montague and Hastings.

Cla.
My Lord then this is my opinion,
That Warwike beeing dishonored in his embassage,
Doth seeke reuenge to quite his iniuries.

Glo.
And Levves in regard of his sisters wrongs,
Doth ioine with Warwike to supplant your state.

Edw.
Suppose that Lewis and Warwike be appeasd,
By such meanes as I can best deuise.

Mont.
But yet to haue ioind with France in this
Alliance, would more haue strengthened this our
Common wealth, gainst forraine stormes,
Then anie home bred marriage.

Hast.
Let England be true within it selfe,
We need not France not any alliance with them.

Cla.
For this one speech the Lord Hastings wel deserues,

To haue the daughter and heire of the Lord Hungerford.

Edw.
And what then? It was our will it should be so?

Cla.
I, and for such a thing too the Lord Scales
Did well deserue at your hands, to haue the
Daughter of the Lord Bonfield, and left your
Brothers to go seeke elsewhere, but in
Your madnes, you burie your brotherhood.

Edw.
Alasse poore Clarence, is it for a wife,
That thou art mal-content,
Why man be of good cheere, I will prouide thee one.

Cla.
Naie you plaide the broker so ill for yourselfe,
That you shall giue me leaue to make my
Choise as I thinke good, and to that intent,
I shortlie meane to leaue you.

Edw.
Leaue me or tarrie I am full resolu'd.
Edward will not be tied to his brothers wils.

Queen.
My Lords doe me but right and you must
Confesse, before it pleasd his highnesse to aduance
My state to title of a Queene,
That I was not ignoble in my birth.

Edw.
Forbeare my loue to fawne vpon their frownes,
For thee they must obay, naie shall obaie,
And if they looke for fauour at my hands.

Mont.
My Lord, heere is the messenger returnd from France. Enter a Messenger.

Edw.
Now sirra, What letters or what newes?

Mes.

No letters my Lord, and such newes as without your highnesse speciall pardon I dare not relate.

Edw.
We pardon thee, and as neere as thou canst
Tell me, What said Lewis to our letters?

Mes.
At my departure these were his verie words.

Go tell false Edward thy supposed king,
That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers,
To reuill it with him and his new bride.

Edw.
Is Lewis so braue, belike he thinkes me Henry.
But what said Lady Bona to these wrongs?

Mes.

Tel him quoth she, in hope heele proue a widdower shortly, Ile weare the willow garland for his sake.

Edw.
She had the wrong, indeed she could saie
Little lesse. But what saide Henries Queene, for as
I heare, she was then in place?

Mes.
Tell him quoth shee my mourning weeds be
Doone, and I am readie to put armour on.

Edw.
Then belike she meanes to plaie the Amazon.
But what said Warwike to these iniuries?

Mes.
He more incensed then the rest my Lord,
Tell him quoth he, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile vncrowne him er't be long.

Ed.
Ha, Durst the traytor breath out such proude words?
But I will arme me to preuent the worst.
But what is Warwike friendes with Margaret?

Mes.
I my good Lord, theare so linkt in friendship,
That young Prince Edward marries Warwikes daughter.

Cla.
The elder, belike Clarence shall haue the
Yonger. All you that loue me and Warwike
Follow me. Exit Clarence and Summerset.

Edw.
Clarence and Summerset fled to Warwike.
What saie you brother Richard, will you stand to vs?

Glo.
I my Lord, in despight of all that shall
Withstand you For why hath Nature
Made me halt downe right, but that I
Should be valiant and stand to it, for if

I would, I cannot runne awaie.

Edw.
Penbrooke, go raise an armie presentlie,
Pitch vp my tent, for in the field this night
I meane to rest, and on the morrow morne,
Ile march to meet proud Warwike ere he land
Those stragling troopes which he hath got in France.
But ere I goe Montague and Hastings,
You of all the rest are neerest allied
In bloud to Warwike, therefore tell me, if
You fauour him more then me or not:
Speake truelie, for I had rather haue you open
Enemies, then hollow friends.

Monta.
So God helpe Montague as he proues true.

Hast.
And Hastings as hee fauours Edwards cause.

Edw.
It shall suffice, come then lets march awaie. Exeunt Omnes. Enter Warwike and Oxford, with souldiers.

War.
Trust me my Lords all hitherto goes well,
The common people by numbers swarme to vs,
But see where Sommerset and Clarence comes,
Speake suddenlie my Lords, are we all friends?

Cla.
Feare not that my Lord.

War.
Then gentle Clarence welcome vnto Warwike.
And welcome Summerset, I hold it cowardise,
To rest mistrustfull where a noble hart,
Hath pawnde an open hand in signe of loue,
Else might I thinke that Clarence Edwards brother,
Were but a fained friend to our proceedings,
But welcome sweet Clarence my daughter shal be thine.
And now what rests but in nights couerture,
Thy brother being careleslie encampt,

His souldiers lurking in the towne about,
And but attended by a simple guarde,
We maie surprise and take him at our pleasure,
Our skouts haue found the aduenture verie easie,
Then crie king Henry with resolued mindes,
And breake we presentlie into his tent.

Cla.
Why then lets on our waie in silent sort,
For Warwike and his friends God and saint George.

War.
This is his tent, and see where his guard doth
Stand, Courage my souldiers, now or neuer,
But follow me now, and Edward shall be ours.

All.
A Warwike, a Warwike. Alarmes, and Gloster and Hastings flies.

Oxf.
Who goes there?

War.
Richard and Hastings let them go, heere is the Duke.

Edw.
The Duke, why Warwike when we parted
Last, thou caldst me king?

War.
I, but the case is altred now.
When you disgraste me in my embassage,
Then I disgraste you from being king,
And now am come to create you Duke of Yorke,
Alasse how should you gouerne anie kingdome,
That knowes not how to vse embassadors,
Nor how to vse your brothers brotherlie,
Nor how to shrowd your selfe from enimies.

Edw.
Well Warwike, let fortune doe her worst,
Edward in mind will beare himselfe a king.

War.
Then for his minde be Edward Englands king,
But Henry now shall weare the English crowne.
Go conuaie him to our brother archbishop of Yorke,
And when I haue fought with Penbrooke & his followers,

Ile come and tell thee what the ladie Bona saies,
And so for a while farewell good Duke of Yorke. Exeunt some with Edward.

Cla.
What followes now, all hithertoo goes well,
But we must dispatch some letters to France,
To tell the Queene of our happy fortune,
And bid hir come with speed to ioine with vs.

War.
I thats the first thing that we haue to doe,
And free king Henry from imprisonment,
And see him seated in his regall throne,
Come let vs haste awaie, and hauing past these cares,
Ile post to Yorke, and see how Edward fares. Exeunt Omnes. Enter Gloster, Hastings, and sir VVilliam Stanly.

Glo.
Lord Hastings and sir VVilliam Stanly,
Know that the cause I sent for you is this.
I looke my brother with a slender traine,
Should come a hunting in this forrest heere.
The Bishop of Yorke befriends him much,
And lets him vse his pleasure in the chase,
Now I haue priuilie sent him word,
How I am come with you to rescue him,
And see where the huntsman and he doth come. Enter Edward and a Huntsman.

Hunts
This waie my Lord the deere is gone.

Edw.
No this waie huntsman, see where the
Keepers stand. Now brother and the rest,
What, are you prouided to depart?

Glo.
I, I, the horse stands at the parke corner,
Come, to Linne and so take shipping into Flanders.

Edw.
Come then: Hastings, and Stanlie, I will

Requite your loues. Bishop farewell,
Sheeld thee from Warwikes frowne,
And praie that I maie repossesse the crowne.
Now huntsman what will you doe?

Hunts
Marrie my Lord, I thinke I had as good
Goe with you, as tarrie heere to be hangde.

Edw.
Come then lets awaie with speed. Exeunt Omnes. Enter the Queene and the Lord Riuers.

Riuers.
Tel me good maddam, why is your grace
So passionate of late?

Queen.
Why brother Riuers, heare you not the newes,
Of that successe king Edward had of late?

Riu.
What? losse of some pitcht battaile against Warwike,
Tush, feare not faire Queen, but cast those cares aside.
King Edwards noble mind his honours doth display:
And Warwike maie loose, though then he got the day.

Queen.
If that were all, my griefes were at an end:
But greater troubles will I feare befall.

Riu.
What, is he taken prisoner by the foe,
To the danger of his royall person then?

Queen.
I, thears my griefe, king Edward is surprisde,
And led awaie, as prisoner vnto Yorke.

Riu.
The newes is passing strange I must confesse:
Yet comfort your selfe, for Edward hath more friends,
Then Lancaster at this time must perceiue,
That some will set him in his throne againe.

Queen.
God grant they maie, but gentle brother come,
And let me leane vpon thine arme a while,
Vntill I come vnto the sanctuarie,
There to preserue the fruit within my wombe,

K. Edwards seed true heire to Englands crowne. Exit. Enter Edward and Richard, and Hastings with a troope of Hollanders.

Edw.
Thus far from Belgia haue we past the seas,
And marcht from Raunspur hauen vnto Yorke:
But soft the gates are shut, I like not this.

Rich.
Sound vp the drum and call them to the wals. Enter the Lord Maire of Yorke vpon the wals.

Mair.
My Lords we had notice of your comming,
And thats the cause we stand vpon our garde,
And shut the gates for to preserue the towne.
Henry now is king, and we are sworne to him.

Edw.
Why my Lord Maire, if Henry be your king,
Edward I am sure at least, is Duke of Yorke.

Mair.
Truth my Lord, we know you for no lesse.

Edw
I craue nothing but my Dukedome.

Rich.
But when the Fox hath gotten in his head,
Heele quicklie make the bodie follow after.

Hast.
Why my Lord Maire, what stand you vpon points
Open the gates, we are king Henries friends.

Mair.
Saie you so, then Ile open them presentlie. Exit Maire.

Ri.
By my faith, a wise stout captain & soone perswaded. The Maire opens the dore, and brings the keies in his hand.

Edw.
So my Lord Maire, these gates must not be shut,
But in the time of warre, giue me the keies:
What, feare not man for Edward will defend
the towne and you, despight of all your foes. Enter sir Iohn Mountgommery with drumme and souldiers.

How now Richard, who is this?

Rich.
Brother, this is sir Iohn Mountgommery,
A trustie friend vnlesse I be deceiude.

Edw.
Welcome sir Iohn. Wherfore come you in armes?

To helpe king Edward in this time of stormes,
As euerie loyall subiect ought to doe.

Edw.
Thankes braue Mountgommery,
But I onlie claime my Dukedom,
Vntil it please God to send the rest.

Sir Iohn.
Then fare you wel? Drum strike vp and let vs
March away, I came to serue a king and not a Duke.

Edw.
Nay staie sir Iohn, and let vs first debate,
With what security we maie doe this thing.

Sir Iohn.
What stand you on debating, to be briefe,
Except you presently proclaime your selfe our king,
Ile hence againe, and keepe them backe that come to
Succour you, why should we fight when
You pretend no title?

Rich.
Fie brother, fie, stand you vpon tearmes?
Resolue your selfe, and let vs claime the crowne.

Edw.
I am resolude once more to claime the crowne,
And win it too, or else to loose my life.

Sir Iohn.
I now my soueraigne speaketh like himselfe,
And now will I be Edwards Champion,
Sound Trumpets, for Edward shall be proclaimd. Edward the fourth by the grace of God, king of England and France, and Lord of Ireland, and whosoeuer gain-saies king Edwards right: by this I challenge him to single fight, long liue Edward the fourth.

All.
Long liue Edward the fourth.

Edw.
We thanke you all. Lord Maire leade on the waie.

For this night weele harbour here in Yorke,
And then as earlie as the morning sunne,
Liftes vp his beames aboue this horison
Weele march to London, to meete with VVarwike:
And pull false Henry from the Regall throne. Exeunt Omnes. Enter VVarwike and Clarence, with the Crowne, and then king Henry, and Oxford, and Summerset, and the yong Earle of Richmond.

King.
Thus from the prison to this princelie seat,
By Gods great mercies am I brought
Againe, Clarence and VVarwike doe you
Keepe the crowne, and gouerne and protect
My realme in peace, and I will spend the
Remnant of my daies, to sinnes rebuke
And my Creators praise.

VVar.
What answeres Clarence to his soueraignes will?

Cla.
Clarence agrees to what king Henry likes.

King.
My Lord of Summerset, what prettie
Boie is that you seeme to be so carefull of?

Sum.
And it please your grace, it is young Henry,
Earle of Richmond.

King.
Henry of Richmond, Come hither pretie Ladde.
If heauenlie powers doe aime aright
To my diuining thoughts, thou pretie boy,
Shalt proue this Countries blisse,
Thy head is made to weare a princelie crowne,
Thy lookes are all repleat with Maiestie,
Make much of him my Lords,

For this is he shall helpe you more,
Then you are hurt by me. Enter one with a letter to Warwike.

War.
What Counsell Lords, Edward from Belgia,
With hastie Germaines and blunt Hollanders,
Is past in safetie through the narrow seas,
And with his troopes doe march amaine towardes London,
And manie giddie people follow him.

Oxf.
Tis best to looke to this betimes,
For if this fire doe kindle any further,
It will be hard for vs to quench it out.

War.
In Warwike shire I haue true harted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in warre,
Them will I muster vp, and thou sonne Clarence shalt
In Essex, Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent,
Stir vp the knights and gentlemen to come with thee.
And thou brother Montague, in Leister shire,
Buckingham and Northampton shire shalt finde,
Men well inclinde to doe what thou commands,
And thou braue Oxford wondrous well belou'd,
Shalt in thy countries muster vp thy friends.
My soueraigne with his louing Citizens,
Shall rest in London till we come to him.
Faire Lords take leaue and stand not to replie,
Farewell my soueraigne.

King.
Farewel my Hector, my Troyes true hope.

War.
Farewell sweet Lords, lets meet at Couentrie.

All.
Agreed. Exeunt Omnes. Enter Edward and his traine.

Edw.
Sease on the shamefast Henry,
And once againe conuaie him to the Tower,

Awaie with him, I will not heare him speake.
And now towards Couentrie let vs bend our course
To meet with Warwike and his confederates. Exeunt Omnes. Enter Warwike on the walles.

War.
Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?
How farre hence is thy Lord my honest fellow?

Oxf post.
By this at Daintrie marching hitherward.

War.
Where is our brother Montague?
Where is the post that came from Montague?

Post.
I left him at Donsmore with his troopes.

War.
Say Summerfield where is my louing son?
And by thy gesse, how farre is Clarence hence?

Sommer.
At Southham my Lord I left him with
His force, and doe expect him two houres hence.

War.
Then Oxford is at hand, I heare his drum. Enter Edward and his power.

Glo.
See brother, where the surly Warwike mans the wal.

War.
O vnbid spight, is spotfull Edward come!
Where slept our scouts or how are they seduste,
That we could haue no newes of their repaire?

Edw.
Now Warwike wilt thou be sorrie for thy faults,
And call Edward king and he will pardon thee.

War.
Naie rather wilt thou draw thy forces backe?
Confesse who set thee vp and puld thee downe?
Call Warwike patron and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke.

Glo.
I had thought at least he would haue said the king.
Or did he make the iest against his will.

War.
Twas Warwike gaue the kingdome to thy brother.

Edw.
Why then tis mine, if but by Warwikes gift.

War.
I but thou art no Atlas for so great a waight,
And weakling, Warwike takes his gift againe,
Henry is my king, Warwike his subiect.

Edw.
I prethe gallant Warwike tell me this,
What is the bodie when the head is off?

Glo.
Alasse that Warwike had no more foresight,
But whilst he sought to steale the singleten,
The king was finelie fingerd from the decke?
You left poore Henry in the Bishops pallace,
And ten to one you'le meet him in the Tower.

Edw.
Tis euen so, and yet you are olde Warwike still.

War.
O cheerefull colours, see where Oxford comes. Enter Oxford with drum and souldiers & al crie,

Oxf.
Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster. Exit.

Edw.
The Gates are open, see they enter in,
Lets follow them and bid them battaile in the streetes.

Glo.
No, so some other might set vpon our backes,
Weele staie till all be entered, and then follow them. Enter Summerset with drum and souldiers.

Sum.
Summerset, Summerset, for Lancaster. Exit.

Glo.
Two of thy name both Dukes of Summerset,
Haue solde their liues vnto the house of Yorke.
And thou shalt be the third and my sword hold. Enter Montague with drum and souldiers.

Mont.
Montague, Montague, for Lancaster. Exit.

Edw.
Traitorous Montague, thou and thy brother
Shall deerelie abie this rebellious act. Enter Clarence with drum and souldiers.

War.
And loe where George of Clarence sweepes
Along, of power enough to bid his brother battell.

Cla.
Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster.

Edw.
Et tu Brute, wilt thou stab Cæsar too?
A parlie sirra to George of Clarence. Sound a Parlie, and Richard and Clarence whispers togither, and then Clarence takes his red Rose out of his hat, and throwes it at Warwike.

War.
Com Clarence come, thou wilt if Warwike call.

Cla.
Father of Warwike, know you what this meanes?
I throw mine infamie at thee,
I will not ruinate my fathers house,
Who gaue his bloud to lime the stones togither,
And set vp Lancaster. Thinkest thou
That Clarence is so harsh vnnaturall,
To lift his sword against his brothers life,
And so proud harted Warwike I defie thee,
And to my brothers turne my blushing cheekes?
Pardon me Edward, for I haue done amisse,
And Richard doe not frowne vpon me,
For henceforth I will proue no more vnconstant.

Edw.
Welcome Clarence, and ten times more welcome,
Then if thou neuer hadst deserud our hate.

Glo.
Welcome good Clarence, this is brotherlie.

War.
Oh passing traytor, periurd and vniust.

Edw.
Now Warwike, wilt thou leaue
The towne and fight? or shall we beate the
Stones about thine eares?

War.
Why I am not coopt vppe heere for defence,
I will awaie to Barnet presently,
And bid thee battaile Edward if thou darest.

Edw.
Yes Warwike he dares, and leades the waie,
Lords to the field, saint George and victorie. Exeunt Omnes.

Alarmes, and then enter Warwike wounded.

War.
Ah, who is nie? Come to me friend or foe,
And tell me who is victor Yorke or Warwike?
Why aske I that? my mangled bodie shewes,
That I must yeeld my bodie to the earth.
And by my fall the conquest to my foes,
Thus yeelds the Cedar to the axes edge,
Whose armes gaue shelter to the princelie Eagle,
Vnder whose shade the ramping Lion slept,
Whose top branch ouerpeerd Ioues spreading tree.
The wrinkles in my browes now fild with bloud,
Were likened oft to kinglie sepulchers.
For who liu'd king, but I could dig his graue?
And who durst smile, when Warwike bent his brow?
Lo now my glorie smeerd in dust and bloud,
My parkes my walkes, my mannors that I had,
Euen now forsake me and of all my lands,
Is nothing left me but my bodies length. Enter Oxford and Summerset.

Oxf.
Ah Warwike, Warwike, cheere vp thy selfe and liue,
For yet thears hope enough to win the daie.
Our warlike Queene with troopes is come from France,
And at South-hampton landed all hir traine,
And mightst thou liue then would we neuer flie.

War.
Whie then I would not flie, nor haue I now,
But Hercules himselfe must yeeld to ods,
For manie wounds receiu'd, and manie moe repaid,
Hath robd my strong knit sinews of their strength,
And spite of spites needes must I yeeld to death.

Som.
Thy brother Montague hath breathd his last,
And at the pangs of death I heard him crie

And saie, commend me to my valiant brother,
And more he would haue spoke and more he said,
Which sounded like a clamor in a vault,
That could not be distinguisht for the sound,
And so the valiant Montague gaue vp the ghost.

War.
What is pompe, rule, raigne, but earth and dust?
And liue we how we can, yet die we must.
Sweet rest his soule, flie Lords and saue your selues,
For Warwike bids you all farewell to meet in Heauen, He dies.

Oxf.
Come noble Summerset, lets take our horse,
And cause retrait be sounded through the campe,
That all our friends that yet remaine aliue,
Maie be awarn'd and saue themselues by flight.
That done, with them weele post vnto the Queene,
And once more trie our fortune in the field. Ex. ambo. Enter Edward, Clarence, Gloster, with souldiers.

Edw.
Thus still our fortune giues vs victorie,
And girts our temples with triumphant ioies
The bigboond traytor Warwike hath breathde his last,
And heauen this daie hath smilde vpon vs all,
But in this cleere and brightsome daie,
I see a blacke suspitious cloud appeare
That will encounter with our glorious sunne
Before he gaine his easefull westerne beames,
I mean those powers which the Queen hath got in Fr&abar;ce
Are landed, and meane once more to menace vs.

Glo.
Oxford and Summerset are fled to hir,
And tis likelie if she haue time to breath,
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

Edw.
We are aduertisde by our louing friends,

That they doe hold their course towards Townburie.
Thither will we for willingnes rids waie,
And in euerie countie as we passe along,
Our strengthes shall be augmented.
Come lets goe for if we slacke this faire
Bright Summers daie, sharpe winters
Showers will marre our hope for haie. Ex. Omnes. Enter the Queene, Prince Edward Oxford and Summerset, with drum and souldiers.

Quee.
Welcome to England, my louing friends of Fr&abar;ce,
And welcome Summerset, and Oxford too.
Once more haue we spread our sailes abroad,
And though our tackling be almost consumde,
And Warwike as our maine mast ouerthrowne,
Yet warlike Lords raise you that sturdie post,
That beares the sailes to bring vs vnto rest,
And Ned and I as willing Pilots should
For once with carefull mindes guide on the sterne,
To beare vs through that dangerous gulfe
That heretofore hath swallowed vp our friends.

Prince.
And if there be, as God forbid there should,
Amongst vs a timorous or fearefull man,
Let him depart before the battels ioine,
Least he in time of need intise another,
And so withdraw the souldiers harts from vs,
I will not stand aloofe and bid you fight,
But with my sword presse in the thickest thronges,
And single Edward from his strongest guard,
And hand to hand enforce him for to yeeld,
Or leaue my bodie as witnesse of my thoughts.

Oxf.
Women and children of so high resolue,

And Warriors faint, why twere perpetuall
Shame? Oh braue yong Prince, thy
Noble grandfather doth liue againe in thee,
Long maiest thou liue to beare his image,
And to renew his glories.

Sum.
And he that turnes and flies when such do fight,
Let him to bed, and like the Owle by daie
Be hist, and wondered at if he arise. Enter a Messenger.

Mes.
My Lords, Duke Edward with a mighty power,
Is marching hitherwards to fight with you.

Oxf.
I thought it was his pollicie, to take vs vnprouided,
But here will we stand and fight it to the death. Enter king Edward, Cla. Glo. Hast. and Souldiers.

Edw.
See brothers, yonder stands the thornie wood,
Which by Gods assistance and your prowesse,
Shall with our swords yer night be cleane cut downe.

Queen.
Lords, Knights & gentlemen, what I should say,
My teares gainesaie, for as you see, I drinke
The water of mine eies. Then no more
But this. Henry your king is prisoner
In the tower, his land and all our friends
Are quite distrest, and yonder standes
The Wolfe that makes all this,
Then on Gods name Lords togither cry saint George.

All.
Saint George for Lancaster. Alarmes to the battel, Yorke flies, then the chambers be discharged. Then enter the king, Cla & Glo. & the rest, & make a great shout, and crie, for Yorke, for Yorke, and then the Queene is taken, & the prince, & Oxf. & Sum. and then sound and enter all againe.

Edw.
Lo here a period of tumultuous broiles,
Awaie with Oxford to Hames castell straight,
For Summerset off with his guiltie head.
Awaie I will not heare them speake.

Oxf.
For my part Ile not trouble thee with words. Exit Oxford.

Sum.
Nor I, but stoope with patience to my death. Exit Sum.

Edw.
Now Edward what satisfaction canst thou make,
For stirring vp my subiects to rebellion?

Prin.
Speake like a subiect proud ambitious Yorke,
Suppose that I am now my fathers mouth,
Resigne thy chaire, and where I stand kneele thou,
Whilst I propose the selfesame words to thee,
Which traytor thou wouldst haue me answere to.

Queen.
Oh that thy father had bin so resolu'd:

Glo.
That you might still haue kept your
Peticote, and nere haue stolne the
Breech from Lancaster.

Prince.
Let Aesop fable in a winters night,
His currish Riddles sorts not with this place.

Glo.
By heauen brat Ile plague you for that word.

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

Glo.
For Gods sake take awaie this captiue scold.

Prin.
Nay take away this skolding Crooktbacke rather,

Edw.
Peace wilfull boy, or I will tame your tongue.

Cla.
Vntuterd lad thou art too malepert.

Prin.
I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull.
Lasciuious Edward, and thou periurd George,
And thou mishapen Dicke, I tell you all,
I am your better, traytors as you be.

Edw.
Take that, the litnes of this railer heere.

Queen.
Oh kill me too.

Glo.
Marrie and shall.

Edw.
Hold Richard hold, for we haue doone too much alreadie.

Glo.
Why should she liue to fill the world with words?

Edw.
What doth she swound? make meanes for Her recouerie?

Glo.
Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother,
I must to London on a serious matter,
Ere you come there, you shall heare more newes.

Cla.
About what, prethe tell me?

Glo.
The Tower man, the Tower, Ile root them out Exit Gloster.

Queen.
Ah Ned, speake to thy mother boy? ah
Thou canst not speake.
Traytors, Tyrants, bloudie Homicides,
They that stabd Cæsar shed no bloud at all,
For he was a man, this in respect a childe,
And men nere spend then furie on a child,
Whats worse then tyrant that I maie name,
You haue no children Deuils, if you had,
The thought of them would then haue stopt your rage,
But if you euer hope to haue a sonne,
Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off,
As Traitors you haue doone this sweet young prince.

Edw.
Awaie, and beare her hence.

Queen.
Naie nere beare me hence, dispatch
Me heere, heere sheath thy sword,
Ile pardon thee my death. Wilt thou not?
Then Clarence, doe thou doe it?

Cla.
By Heauen I would not doe thee so much ease.

Queen.
Good Clarence doe, sweet Clarence kill me too.

Cla.
Didst thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?

Queen.
I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe,
Twas sinne before, but now tis charitie.
Whears the Diuels butcher, hardfauored Richard,
Richard where art thou? He is not heere,
Murder is his almes deed, petitioners
For bloud he nere put backe.

Edw.
Awaie I saie, and take her hence perforce.

Queen.
So come to you and yours, as to this prince. Ex.

Edw.
Clarence, whithers Gloster gone?

Cla
Marrie my Lord to London, and as I gesse, to
Make a bloudie supper in the Tower.

Edw.
He is sudden if a thing come in his head.
Well, discharge the common souldiers with paie
And thankes, and now let vs towards London,
To see our gentle Queene how shee doth fare,
For by this I hope shee hath a sonne for vs. Exeunt Omnes. Enter Gloster to king Henry in the Tower.

Glo.
Good day my Lord. What at your booke so hard?

Hen.
I my good Lord. Lord I should saie rather,
Tis sinne to flatter, good was little better,
Good Gloster, and good Diuell, were all alike,
What scene of Death hath Rosius now to act?

Glo.
Suspition alwaies haunts a guiltie mind.

Hen.
The birde once limde doth feare the fatall bush,
And I the haplesse maile to one poore birde,
Haue now the fatall obiect in mine eie,
Where my poore young was limde, was caught & kild.

Glo.
Why, what a foole was that of Creete?

That taught his sonne the office
Of a birde, and yet for all that the poore
Fowle was drownde.

Hen.
I Dedalus, my poore sonne Icarus,
Thy father Minos that denide our course,
Thy brother Edward, the sunne that searde his wings,
And thou the enuious gulfe that swallowed him.
Oh better can my brest abide thy daggers point,
Then can mine eares that tragike historie.

Glo.
Why dost thou thinke I am an executioner?

Hen.
A persecutor I am sure thou art,
And if murdering innocents be executions,
Then I know thou art an executioner.

Glo.
Thy sonne I kild for his presumption.

Hen.
Hadst thou bin kild when first thou didst presume,
Thou hadst not liude to kill a sonne of mine,
And thus I prophesie of thee.
That manie a Widdow for her husbands death,
And many an infants water standing eie,
Widowes for their husbands, children for their fathers,
Shall curse the time that euer thou wert borne.
The owle shrikt at thy birth, an euill signe,
The night Crow cride, aboding lucklesse tune,
Dogs howld and hideous tempests shooke down trees,
The Rauen rookt her on the Chimnies top,
And chattering Pies in dismall discord sung,
Thy mother felt more then a mothers paine,
And yet brought forth lesse then a mothers hope,
To wit: an vndigest created lumpe,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree,
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast borne,
To signifie thou camst to bite the world,
And if the rest be true that I haue heard
Thou camst into the world He stabs him.

Glo.
Die prophet in thy speech, Ile heare
No more, for this amongst the rest, was I ordainde.

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

Glo.
What? will the aspiring bloud of Lancaster
Sinke into the ground, I had thought it would haue mounted,
See how my sward weepes for the poore kings death.
Now maie such purple teares be alwaies shed,
For such as seeke the downefall of our house.
If anie sparke of life remaine in thee, Stab him againe.
Downe, downe to hell, and saie I sent thee thither.
I that haue neither pittie, loue nor feare.
Indeed twas true that Henry told me of,
For I haue often heard my mother saie,
That I came into the world with my legs forward,
And had I not reason thinke you to make hast,
And seeke their ruines that vsurpt our rights?
The women wept and the midwife cride,
O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth.
And so I was indeed, which plainelie signifide,
That I should snarle and bite, and plaie the dogge.
Then since Heauen hath made my bodie so,
Let hell make crookt my mind to answere it.
I had no father, I am like no father,
I haue no brothers, I am like no brothers,
And this word Loue which graybeards tearme diuine,

Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me, I am my selfe alone,
Clarence beware, thou keptst me from the light
But I will sort a pitchte daie for thee.
For I will buz abroad such prophesies,
As Edward shall be fearefull of his life,
And then to purge his feare, Ile be thy death.
Henry and his sonne are gone, thou Clarence next,
And by one and one I will dispatch the rest,
Counting my selfe, but bad, till I be best.
Ile drag thy bodie in another rooome. And triumph Henry in thy daie of doome. Exit. Enter king Edward, Queene Elizabeth, and a Nurse with the young prince, and Clarence, and Hastings, and others.

Edw.
Once more we sit in Englands royall throne,
Repurchasde with the bloud of enemies,
What valiant foemen like to Autumnes corne,
Haue we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride?
Three Dukes of Summerset, threefold renowmd
For hardie and vndoubted champions.
Two Cliffords, as the father and the sonn
And two Northumberlands, two brauer men
Nere spurd their coursers at the trumpets sound.
With them the two rough Beares Warwike and Montague,
That in their chaines fettered the kinglie Lion,
And made the Forrest tremble when they roard,

Thus haue we swept suspition from our seat,
And made our footstoole of securitie.
Come hither Besse, and let me kisse my boie,
Young Ned, for thee, thine Vncles and my selfe,
Haue in our armors watcht the Winters night,
Marcht all a foote in summers skalding heat,
That thou mightst repossesse the crowne in peace,
And of our labours thou shalt reape the gaine.

Glo.
Ile blast his haruest and your head were laid,
For yet I am not lookt on in the world.
This shoulder was ordaind so thicke to heaue,
And heaue it shall some waight or breake my backe,
Worke thou the waie, and thou shalt execute.

Edward.
Clarence and Gloster, loue my louelie Queene,
And kisse your princely nephew brothers both.

Cla.
The dutie that I owe vnto your, Maiestie,
I seale vpon the rosiate lips of this sweet babe.

Queen.
Thankes noble Clarence worthie brother thankes.

Gloster.
And that I loue the fruit from whence thou
Sprangst, witnesse the louing kisse I giue the child.
To saie the truth so Iudas kist his maister,
And so he cride all haile, and meant all harme.

Edward.
Nowe am I seated as my soule delights,
Hauing my countries peace, and brothers loues.

Cla.
What will your grace haue done with Margaret,
Ranard her father to the king of France,
Hath pawnd the Cyssels and Ierusalem,
And hither haue they sent it for her ransome.

Edw.
Awaie with her, and wafte hir hence to France,
And now what rests but that we spend the time,
With stately Triumphs and mirthfull comicke shewes,
Such as befits the pleasures of the Court.
Sound drums and Trumpets, farewell to sower annoy,
For heere I hope begins our lasting ioie. Exeunt Omnes. FINIS.