Edward.
I wonder, how our princely father 'scap'd;
Or whether he be 'scap'd away, or no,
From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit?
Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news;
Had he been slain, we should have heard the news;
Or had he 'scap'd, methinks, we should have heard
The happy tidings of his good escape.
How fares my brother? why is he so sad?

Rich.
I cannot joy, until I be resolv'd
Where our right-valiant father is become.
I saw him in the battle range about;
And watch'd him, how he singled Clifford forth;
Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop,
As doth a Lion in a herd of neat;
Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs,
Who having pinch'd a few and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloof and bark at him.
So far'd our father with his enemies,
So fled his enemies my warlike father:
^{1 note}Methinks, 'tis pride enough to be his son.
See, how the morning opes her golden gates,
And takes her farewel of the glorious sun;
How well resembles it the prime of youth,
Trim'd like a yonker prancing to his love?

Edw.
Dazzle mine eyes? or do I see three suns?

Rich.
Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun;
Not separated with the racking clouds,
But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky.
See, see, they join, embrace, and seem to kiss;
As if they vow'd some league inviolable:
Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun.
In this the heaven figures some event.

Edw.
'Tis wondrous strange, the like yet never heard of.
I think, it cites us, brother to the field;
That we the sons of brave Plantagenet,
Each one already blazing by our meeds,
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together,
And over-shine the earth, as this the world.
Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
Upon my target three fair shining suns.

Rich.
Nay, bear three daughters:—by your leave, I speak it,
You love the breeder better than the male. Enter a Messenger.
But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretell
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?

Mes.
Ah! one that was a woful looker on,
When as the noble Duke of York was slain;
Your princely father, and my loving lord.

Edw.
Oh, speak no more! for I have heard too much.

Rich.
Say, how he dy'd; for I will hear it all.

Mes.
Environed he was with many foes,
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy
Against the Greeks that would have entred Troy.
But Hercules himself must yield to odds;
And many stroaks, though with a little ax,
Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak.
By many hands your father was subdu'd,
But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm
Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen;
Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despight;
Laugh'd in his face; and, when with grief he wept,
The ruthless Queen gave him, to dry his cheek,
A napkin steeped in the harmless blood
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain:
And, after many scorns, many foul taunts,
They took his head, and on the gates of York
They set the same; and there it doth remain
The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.

Edw.
Sweet duke of York, our prop to lean upon!
Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay.
Oh Clifford, boist'rous Clifford! thou hast slain
The flower of Europe for his chivalry,
And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him;
For, hand to hand, he would have vanquish'd thee.

Now my soul's palace is become a prison:
Ah, would she break from hence, that this my body
Might in the ground be closed up in rest!
For never henceforth shall I joy again,
Never, oh never, shall I see more joy.

Rich.
I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart:
Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen:
For self-same wind, that I should speak withal,
Is kindling coals that fire up all my breast;
And burn me up with flames, that tears would quench.
To weep, is to make less the depth of grief:
Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me!
Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death;
Or die renowned by attempting it.

Edw.
His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee:
His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

Rich.
Nay, if thou be that princely Eagle's bird,
Shew thy descent, by gazing 'gainst the sun:
For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say;
Either that's thine, or else thou wert not his.

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