But only slaughtered by the ireful arm

  Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen,

  Who crowned the gracious duke in high despite59,

  Laughed in his face, and when with grief he wept,

  The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks

  A napkin steepèd in the harmless62 blood

  Of sweet young Rutland, by rough63 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 viewed.

  [Exit]

  EDWARD    Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon,

  Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay69.

  O Clifford, boist’rous70 Clifford, thou hast slain

  The flower of Europe for his chivalry,

  And treacherously hast thou vanquished him,

  For hand to hand he would have vanquished thee.

  Now my soul’s palace74 is become a prison.

  Ah, would she75 break from hence, that this my body

  Might in the ground be closèd up in rest,

  For never henceforth shall I joy again:

  Never, O, never, shall I see more joy78!

  RICHARD    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 burden,

  For selfsame wind82 that I should speak withal

  Is kindling coals that fires all my breast,

  And burns 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 venge87 thy death,

  Or die renownèd by attempting it.

  EDWARD    His name that valiant duke hath left with thee:

  His dukedom and his chair90 with me is left.

  RICHARD    Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird,

  Show thy descent by gazing gainst the sun92.

  For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say,

  Either that94 is thine, or else thou wert not his.

  March. Enter Warwick, Marquis [of]. Montague and their army

  WARWICK    How now, fair lords? What fare? What news abroad95?

  RICHARD    Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount

  Our baleful97 news, and at each word’s deliverance

  Stab poniards98 in our flesh till all were told,

  The words would add more anguish than the wounds.

  O, valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain!

  EDWARD    O Warwick, Warwick, that Plantagenet

  Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption,

  Is by the stern103 Lord Clifford done to death.

  WARWICK    Ten days ago I drowned these news in tears,

  And now, to add more measure105 to your woes,

  I come to tell you things sith106 then befall’n.

  After the bloody fray at Wakefield107 fought,

  Where your brave father breathed his latest108 gasp,

  Tidings, as swiftly as the posts109 could run,

  Were brought me of your loss and his depart110.

  I, then in London, keeper111 of the king,

  Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends,

  Marched toward St Albans113 to intercept the queen,

  Bearing the king in my behalf114 along.

  For by my scouts I was advertisèd115

  That she was coming with a full intent

  To dash our late117 decree in parliament

  Touching118 King Henry’s oath and your succession.

  Short tale to make, we at St Albans met

  Our battles120 joined, and both sides fiercely fought.

  But whether ’twas the coldness121 of the king,

  Who looked full122 gently on his warlike queen,

  That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen123,

  Or whether ’twas report of her success,

  Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigour125,

  Who thunders to his captives blood and death,

  I cannot judge: but to conclude with truth,

  Their weapons like to128 lightning came and went,

  Our soldiers’ like the night-owl’s lazy flight,

  Or like an idle thresher with a flail130,

  Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.

  I cheered them up with justice of our cause,

  With promise of high pay and great rewards,

  But all in vain: they had no heart to fight,

  And we in them no hope to win the day,

  So that we fled. The king unto the queen,

  Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself,

  In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you,

  For in the marches139 here we heard you were,

  Making another head140 to fight again.

  EDWARD    Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick?

  And when came George from Burgundy to England?

  WARWICK    Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers,

  And for your brother, he was lately sent

  From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy,145

  With aid of soldiers to this needful146 war.

  RICHARD    ’Twas odds, belike147, when valiant Warwick fled;

  Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit148,

  But ne’er till now his scandal of retire149.

  WARWICK    Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear,

  For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine

  Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head,

  And wring the awful153 sceptre from his fist,

  Were he as famous and as bold in war

  As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.

  RICHARD    I know it well, Lord Warwick, blame me not.

  ’Tis love I bear thy glories make me speak.

  But in this troublous time, what’s to be done?

  Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,

  And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,

  Numb’ring our Ave Maries with our beads161?

  Or shall we on the helmets of our foes

  Tell163 our devotion with revengeful arms?

  If for the last, say ay, and to it, lords.

  WARWICK    Why, therefore165 Warwick came to seek you out,

  And therefore comes my brother Montague.

  Attend167 me, lords: the proud insulting queen,

  With Clifford and the haught168 Northumberland,

  And of their feather many more proud birds,

  Have wrought170 the easy-melting king like wax.

  He swore consent to your succession,

  His oath enrollèd172 in the parliament.

  And now to London all the crew173 are gone,

  To frustrate both his oath and what beside174

  May make175 against the house of Lancaster.

  Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong.

  Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself,

  With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March,

  Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,

  Will but amount to five-and-twenty thousand,

  Why, via181, to London will we march,

  And once again bestride182 our foaming steeds,

  And once again cry ‘Charge!’ upon our foes,

  But never once again turn back and fly.

  RICHARD    Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak;

  Ne’er may he live to see a sunshine day,

  That cries ‘Retire!’187 if Warwick bid him stay.

  EDWARD    Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean,

  And when thou fail’st — as God forbid the hour —

  Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend190!

  WARWICK    No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York:

  The next degree192 is England’s royal throne.

  For King of England shalt thou be proclaimed

  In every borough as we pass along.

  And he that throws not up his cap for joy

  Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.

  King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague,

  Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown,

  But sound the trumpets, and about our task.

  RICHARD    Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel,

  As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,

  I come to pierce it or to give thee mine.

  EDWARD    Then strike up drums. God and Saint George203 for us!

  Enter a Messenger

  WARWICK    How now? What news?

  MESSENGER    The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me,

  The queen is coming with a puissant host206,

  And craves207 your company for speedy counsel.

  WARWICK    Why then it sorts208, brave warriors, let’s away.

  Exeunt

  [Act 2 Scene 2]

  running scene 5

  Flourish. Enter the King, the Queen, Clifford, Northum[berland]. and young Prince, with Drum and Trumpets York’s head is set above the city gates

  QUEEN MARGARET    Welcome, my lord, to this brave1 town of York.

  Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy

  That sought to be encompassed with your crown:

  Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?

  KING HENRY VI    Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck5:

  To see this sight, it irks6 my very soul.

  Withhold revenge, dear God! ’tis not my fault,

  Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.

  CLIFFORD    My gracious liege, this too much lenity9

  And harmful pity must be laid aside.

  To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?

  Not to the beast that would usurp their den.

  Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?

  Not his that spoils14 her young before her face.

  Who scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting?

  Not he that sets his foot upon her back.

  The smallest worm will turn being trodden on,

  And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.

  Ambitious York doth level19 at thy crown,

  Thou smiling while he knit20 his angry brows:

  He, but a duke, would have his son a king,

  And raise his issue, like a loving sire22;

  Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly23 son,

  Didst yield consent to disinherit him,

  Which argued thee25 a most unloving father.

  Unreasonable26 creatures feed their young;

  And though man’s face be fearful27 to their eyes,

  Yet, in protection of their tender28 ones,

  Who hath not seen them, even with those wings

  Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,

  Make war with him that climbed unto their nest,

  Offering their own lives in their young’s defence?

  For shame, my liege, make them your precedent33!

  Were it not pity34 that this goodly boy

  Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault,

  And long hereafter say unto his child,

  ‘What my great-grandfather and his grandsire got

  My careless father fondly38 gave away’?

  Ah, what a shame39 were this! Look on the boy;

  And let his manly face, which promiseth

  Successful fortune, steel thy melting41 heart

  To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.

  KING HENRY VI    Full well hath Clifford played the orator,

  Inferring44 arguments of mighty force:

  But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear

  That things ill-got had ever bad success46?

  And happy47 always was it for that son

  Whose father for his hoarding48 went to hell?

  I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind,

  And would my father had left me no more:

  For all the rest is held at such a rate51

  As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep52

  Than in possession any jot of pleasure.

  Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know

  How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

  QUEEN MARGARET    My lord, cheer up your spirits: our foes are nigh56,

  And this soft courage makes your followers faint57.

  You promised knighthood to our forward58 son:

  Unsheathe your sword, and dub him presently59.

  Edward, kneel down.

  KING HENRY VI    Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight;

  And learn this lesson, draw thy sword in right62.

  PRINCE EDWARD    My gracious father, by your kingly leave,

  I’ll draw it as apparent64 to the crown,

  And in that quarrel use it to the death.

  CLIFFORD    Why, that is spoken like a toward66 prince.

  Enter a Messenger

  MESSENGER    Royal commanders, be in readiness:

  For with a band of thirty thousand men

  Comes Warwick, backing of69 the Duke of York;

  And in the towns, as they do march along,

  Proclaims him king, and many fly to him.

  Deraign your battle72, for they are at hand.

  [Exit]

  CLIFFORD    I would your highness would depart the field:

  The queen hath best success when you are absent.

  QUEEN MARGARET    Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.

  KING HENRY VI    Why, that’s my fortune too: therefore I’ll stay.

  NORTHUMBERLAND    Be it with resolution then to fight.

  PRINCE EDWARD    My royal father, cheer these noble lords

  And hearten those that fight in your defence.

  Unsheathe your sword, good father, cry ‘Saint George!’

  March. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Clarence [George], Norfolk, Montague and Soldiers

  EDWARD    Now, perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace,

  And set thy diadem upon my head,

  Or bide the mortal83 fortune of the field?

  QUEEN MARGARET    Go, rate thy minions84, proud insulting boy.

  Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms

  Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?

  EDWARD    I am his king, and he should bow his knee:

  I was adopted heir by his consent.

  Since when, his oath is broke, for as I hear,

  You that are king, though he do wear the crown,

  Have caused him, by new act of parliament,

  To blot out me and put his own son in.

  CLIFFORD    And reason too:

  Who should succeed the father but the son?

  RICHARD    Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!

  CLIFFORD    Ay, crookback, here I stand to answer thee,

  Or any he, the proudest of thy sort97.

  RICHARD    ’Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not?

  CLIFFORD    Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied.

  RICHARD    For God’s sake, lords, give signal to the fight.

  WARWICK    What say’st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown?

  QUEEN MARGARET    Why, how now, long-tongued102

  Warwick, dare you speak?

  When you and I met at St Albans last,

  Your legs did better service than your hands105.

  WARWICK    Then ’twas my turn to fly, and now ’tis thine.

  CLIFFORD    You said so much before and yet you fled.

  WARWICK    ’Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence.

  NORTHUMBERLAND    No, nor your manhood that durst109 make you stay.

  RICHARD    Northumberland, I hold thee reverently110.

  Break off the parley, for scarce I can refrain111

  The execution of my big-swol’n112 heart

  Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer.

  CLIFFORD    I slew thy father. Call’st thou him a child?

  RICHARD    Ay, like a dastard115 and a treacherous coward,

  As thou didst kill our tender116 brother Rutland.

  But ere sunset, I’ll make thee curse the deed.

  KING HENRY VI    Have done with words, my lords, and hear me speak.

  QUEEN MARGARET    Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips.

  KING HENRY VI    I prithee, give no limits to my tongue:

  I am a king and privileged to speak.

  CLIFFORD    My liege, the wound that bred this meeting here

  Cannot be cured by words: therefore be still123.

  RICHARD    Then, executioner, unsheathe thy sword:

  By him that made us all, I am resolved125

  That Clifford’s manhood lies upon his tongue126.

  EDWARD    Say, Henry, shall I have my right or no?

  A thousand men have broke their fasts128 today,

  That ne’er shall dine unless thou yield the crown.