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The Same. | |
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A loud alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded. | |
| Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, | |
| Which, while it lasted, gave King Henry light. | |
| O Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow | 5 |
| More than my body’s parting with my soul. | |
| My love and fear glu’d many friends to thee; | |
| And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt, | |
| Impairing Henry, strengthening misproud York: | |
| The common people swarm like summer flies; | 10 |
| And whither fly the gnats but to the sun? | |
| And who shines now but Henry’s enemies? | |
| O Phœbus! hadst thou never given consent | |
| That Phæthon should check thy fiery steeds, | |
| Thy burning car never had scorch’d the earth; | 15 |
| And, Henry, hadst thou sway’d as kings should do, | |
| Or as thy father and his father did, | |
| Giving no ground unto the house of York, | |
| They never then had sprung like summer flies; | |
| I and ten thousand in this luckless realm | 20 |
| Had left no mourning widows for our death, | |
| And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace. | |
| For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air? | |
| And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity? | |
| Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds; | 25 |
| No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: | |
| The foe is merciless, and will not pity; | |
| For at their hands I have deserv’d no pity. | |
| The air hath got into my deadly wounds, | |
| And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. | 30 |
| Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest; | |
| I stabb’d your fathers’ bosoms, split my breast. [He faints. | |
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Alarum and Retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers. | |
| Edw. Now breathe we, lords: good fortune bids us pause, | |
| And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks. | 35 |
| Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen, | |
| That led calm Henry, though he were a king, | |
| As doth a sail, fill’d with a fretting gust, | |
| Command an argosy to stem the waves. | |
| But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? | 40 |
| War. No, ’tis impossible he should escape; | |
| For, though before his face I speak the words, | |
| Your brother Richard mark’d him for the grave; | |
| And wheresoe’er he is, he’s surely dead. [CLIFFORD groans and dies. | |
| Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave? | 45 |
| Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death’s departing. | |
| Edw. See who it is: and now the battle’s ended, | |
| If friend or foe let him be gently us’d. | |
| Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for ’tis Clifford; | |
| Who not contented that he lopp’d the branch | 50 |
| In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, | |
| But set his murd’ring knife unto the root | |
| From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, | |
| I mean our princely father, Duke of York. | |
| War. From off the gates of York fetch down the head, | 55 |
| Your father’s head, which Clifford placed there; | |
| Instead whereof let this supply the room: | |
| Measure for measure must be answered. | |
| Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our house, | |
| That nothing sung but death to us and ours: | 60 |
| Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, | |
| And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. [Attendants bring the body forward. | |
| War. I think his understanding is bereft. | |
| Speak, Clifford; dost thou know who speaks to thee? | |
| Dark cloudy death o’ershades his beams of life, | 65 |
| And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. | |
| Rich. O! would he did; and so perhaps he doth: | |
| ’Tis but his policy to counterfeit, | |
| Because he would avoid such bitter taunts | |
| Which in the time of death he gave our father. | 70 |
| Geo. If so thou think’st, vex him with eager words. | |
| Rich. Clifford! ask mercy and obtain no grace. | |
| Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. | |
| War. Clifford! devise excuses for thy faults. | |
| Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. | 75 |
| Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. | |
| Edw. Thou pitiedst Rutland, I will pity thee. | |
| Geo. Where’s Captain Margaret, to fence you now? | |
| War. They mock thee, Clifford: swear as thou wast wont. | |
| Rich. What! not an oath? nay, then the world goes hard | 80 |
| When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath. | |
| I know by that he’s dead; and, by my soul, | |
| If this right hand would buy two hours’ life, | |
| That I in all despite might rail at him, | |
| This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing blood | 85 |
| Stifle the villain whose unstaunched thirst | |
| York and young Rutland could not satisfy. | |
| War. Ay, but he’s dead: off with the traitor’s head, | |
| And rear it in the place your father’s stands. | |
| And now to London with triumphant march, | 90 |
| There to be crowned England’s royal king: | |
| From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, | |
| And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen. | |
| So shalt thou sinew both these lands together; | |
| And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread | 95 |
| The scatter’d foe that hopes to rise again; | |
| For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, | |
| Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears. | |
| First will I see the coronation; | |
| And then to Brittany I’ll cross the sea, | 100 |
| To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. | |
| Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be; | |
| For on thy shoulder do I build my seat, | |
| And never will I undertake the thing | |
| Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. | 105 |
| Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester; | |
| And George, of Clarence; Warwick, as ourself, | |
| Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best. | |
| Rich. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloucester, | |
| For Gloucester’s dukedom is too ominous. | 110 |
| War. Tut! that’s a foolish observation: | |
| Richard, be Duke of Gloucester. Now to London, | |
| To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt. | |
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