Who’s this? O God! It is my father’s face,

  61

  Whom in this conflict I unwares have killed.

  62

  O heavy times, begetting such events!

  63

  From London by the King was I pressed forth.

  64

  My father, being the Earl of Warwick’s man,

  65

  Came on the part of York, pressed by his master.

  66

  And I, who at his hands received my life,

  67

  Have by my hands of life bereavèd him.

  68

  Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did;

  69

  And pardon, father, for I knew not thee.

  70

  My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks,

  71

  And no more words till they have flowed their fill.

  72

 

  KING HENRY

  O piteous spectacle! O bloody times!

  73

  Whiles lions war and battle for their dens,

  74

  Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.

  75

  Weep, wretched man. I’ll aid thee tear for tear,

  76

  And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,

  77

  Be blind with tears and break, o’ercharged with grief.

  78

  Enter at another door a Father that hath killed his Son,

  bearing of his

  FATHER

  Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me,

  79

  Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold,

  80

  For I have bought it with an hundred blows.

  81

  But let me see: is this our foeman’s face?

  82

  Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son!

  83

  Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,

  84

  Throw up thine eye! See, see, what showers arise,

  85

  Blown with the windy tempest of my heart

  86

  Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart!

  87

  O, pity God this miserable age!

  88

  What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,

  89

  Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural

  90

  This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!

  91

  O, boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,

  92

  And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!

  93

  KING HENRY

  Woe above woe, grief more than common grief!

  94

  O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!

  95

  O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!

  96

  The red rose and the white are on his face,

  97

  The fatal colors of our striving houses;

  98

  The one his purple blood right well resembles,

  99

  The other his pale cheeks methinks presenteth.

  100

  Wither one rose and let the other flourish;

  101

  If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.

  102

  SON

  How will my mother for a father’s death

  103

  Take on with me and ne’er be satisfied!

  104

  FATHER

  How will my wife for slaughter of my son

  105

  Shed seas of tears and ne’er be satisfied!

  106

  KING HENRY

  How will the country for these woeful chances

  107

  Misthink the King and not be satisfied!

  108

  SON

  Was ever son so rued a father’s death?

  109

  FATHER

  Was ever father so bemoaned his son?

  110

  KING HENRY

  Was ever king so grieved for subjects’ woe?

  111

  Much is your sorrow, mine ten times so much.

  112

  SON

  I’ll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill.

  113

 

  FATHER

  These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet;

  114

  My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulcher,

  115

  For from my heart thine image ne’er shall go.

  116

  My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell;

  117

  And so obsequious will thy father be

  118

  for the loss of thee, having no more,

  119

  As Priam was for all his valiant sons.

  120

  I’ll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will,

  121

  For I have murdered where I should not kill.

  122

  He exits,

  KING HENRY

  Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care,

  123

  Here sits a king more woeful than you are.

  124

  Alarums. Excursions. Enter Queen Prince

  and Exeter,

  PRINCE EDWARD

  Fly, father, fly, for all your friends are fled,

  125

  And Warwick rages like a chafèd bull.

  126

  Away, for Death doth hold us in pursuit.

  127

  QUEEN MARGARET

  Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain.

  128

  Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds

  129

  Having the fearful flying hare in sight,

  130

  With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath

  131

  And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands,

  132

  Are at our backs, and therefore hence amain.

  133

  EXETER

  Away, for Vengeance comes along with them.

  134

  Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed;

  135

  Or else come after; I’ll away before.

  136

  KING HENRY

  Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter;

  137

  Not that I fear to stay, but love to go

  138

  Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away!

  139

  They exit.

 

  A loud alarum. Enter Clifford,

  wounded.

  CLIFFORD

  Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies,

  1

  Which whiles it lasted gave King Henry light.

  2

  O Lancaster, I fear thy overthrow

  3

  More than my body’s parting with my soul!

  4

  My love and fear glued many friends to thee;

  5

  And now I fall, thy tough commixtures melts,

  6

  Impairing Henry, strength’ning misproud York;

  7

  And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?

  8

  And who shines now but Henry’s enemies?

  9

  O Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent

  10

  That Phaëton should check thy fiery steeds,

  11

  Thy burning car never had scorched the earth!

  12

  And Henry, hadst thou swayed as kings should do,

  13

  Or as thy father and his father did,

  14

  Giving no ground unto the house of York,

  15

  They never then had sprung like summer flies;

  16

  I and ten thousand in this luckless realm

  17

  Had left no mourning widows for our death,

  18

  And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.

  19

  For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air?

  20

  And what makes robbers bold but too much lenity?

  21

  Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds;

  22

  No way to fly, no strength to hold out flight.

  23

  The foe is merciless and will not pity,

  24

  For at their hands I have deserved no pity.

  25

  The air hath got into my deadly wounds,

  26

  And much effuse of blood doth make me faint.

  27

  Come, York and Richard, Warwick and the rest.

  28

  I stabbed your fathers’ bosoms; split my breast.

  29

 

  Alarum and retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick,

  Richard, and Soldiers, Montague, and

 

  EDWARD

  Now breathe we, lords. Good fortune bids us pause

  30

  And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.

  31

  Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen

  32

  That led calm Henry, though he were a king,

  33

  As doth a sail filled with a fretting gust

  34

  Command an argosy to stem the waves.

  35

  But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them?

  36

  WARWICK

  No, ’tis impossible he should escape,

  37

  For, though before his face I speak the words,

  38

  Your brother Richard marked him for the grave,

  39

  And wheresoe’er he is, he’s surely dead.

  40

  Clifford groans,

  RICHARD

  Whose soul is that which takes her heavy leave?

  41

  A deadly groan, like life and death’s departing.

  42

 

  See who it is; and, now the battle’s ended,

  43

  If friend or foe, let him be gently used.

  44

  RICHARD

  Revoke that doom of mercy, for ’tis Clifford,

  45

  Who not contented that he lopped the branch

  46

  In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth,

  47

  But set his murd’ring knife unto the root

  48

  From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,

  49

  I mean our princely father, Duke of York.

  50

  WARWICK

  From off the gates of York fetch down the head,

  51

  Your father’s head, which Clifford placèd there;

  52

  Instead whereof let this supply the room.

  53

  Measure for measure must be answerèd.

  54

  EDWARD

  Bring forth that fatal screech owl to our house

  55

  That nothing sung but death to us and ours;

  56

  Now death shall stop his dismal threat’ning sound,

  57

  And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.

  58

  WARWICK

  I think understanding is bereft.—

  59

  Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to

  60

  thee?—

  61

  Dark cloudy death o’ershades his beams of life,

  62

  And he nor sees nor hears us what we say.

  63

  RICHARD

  O, would he did—and so, perhaps, he doth!

  64

  ’Tis but his policy to counterfeit,

  65

  Because he would avoid such bitter taunts

  66

  Which in the time of death he gave our father.

  67

  GEORGE

  If so thou think’st, vex him with eager words.

  68

  RICHARD

  Clifford, ask mercy and obtain no grace.

  69

  EDWARD

  Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.

  70

  WARWICK

  Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.

  71

  GEORGE

  While we devise fell tortures for thy faults.

  72

  RICHARD

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

  73

  EDWARD

  Thou pitied’st Rutland; I will pity thee.

  74

  GEORGE

  Where’s Captain Margaret to fence you now?

  75

  WARWICK

  They mock thee, Clifford; swear as thou wast wont.

  76

  RICHARD

  What, not an oath? Nay, then, the world goes hard

  77

  When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath.

  78

  I know by that he’s dead; and, by my soul,

  79

  If this right hand would buy two hours’ life

  80

  That I in all despite might rail at him,

  81

  This hand should chop it off, and with the issuing

  82

  blood

  83

  Stifle the villain whose unstaunchèd thirst

  84

  York and young Rutland could not satisfy.

  85

  WARWICK

  Ay, but he’s dead. Off with the traitor’s head,

  86

  And rear it in the place your father’s stands.

  87

  And now to London with triumphant march,

  88

  There to be crownèd England’s royal king,

  89

  From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France

  90

  And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen;

  91

  So shalt thou sinew both these lands together,

  92

  And having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread

  93

  The scattered foe that hopes to rise again;

  94

  For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,

  95

  Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears.

  96

  First will I see the coronation,

  97

  And then to Brittany I’ll cross the sea

  98

  To effect this marriage, so it please my lord.

  99

  EDWARD

  Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be;

  100

  For in thy shoulder do I build my seat,

  101

  And never will I undertake the thing

  102

  Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting.—

  103

  Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,

  104

  And George, of Clarence. Warwick as ourself