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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. * Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ;* That led calm Henry, though he were a king, • As doth a sail, filld with a fretting gust, • Command an argosy to stem the waves. • But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? 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? Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's depart
ing.' 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 Clif
ford; · Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch * In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, • But set his murdering 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, Your Father's head, which Clifford placed there: • Instead whereof, let this supply the room;
- like life and death's departing.) Departing for separation.
Measure for measure must be answered.
Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our
· That nothing sung but death to us and ours: · 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, 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. 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. · Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to
York. Edw. Thou pitied'st 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, • 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,
eager words.] Sour words; words of asperity.
* This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing
blood 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, 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 The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again; For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt, Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine ears. First, will I see the coronation; · And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, 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.-• Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster ;* And George, of Clarence;-Warwick, as ourself, Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best. Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of
War. Tut, that's a foolish observation;
3 - too ominous.] Alluding, perhaps, to the deaths of Thomas of Woodstock, and Humphrey, Dukes of Gloster.
SCENE I. A Chace in the North of England.
Enter Two Keepers, with Cross-bows in their Hands. 'ı Keep. Under this thick-grown brake* we'll
shroud ourselves; • For through this laund' anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. * 2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill, so both may
shoot. 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy
cross-bow * Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. * Here stand we both, and aim we at the best: * And, for the time shall not seem tedious, * I'll tell thee what befell me on a day, * In this self-place where now we mean to stand. “2 Keep. Here come's a man, let's stay till he be
Enter King Henry, disguised, with a Prayer-book. K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of
pure love, ' To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; * Thy place is fill'd, thy scepter wrung from thee, * Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast
brake-] A brake anciently signified a thicket.
- this laund-] Laund means the same as lawn ; a plain extended between woods.
No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now, “No humble suitors press to speak for right, * No, not a man comes for redress of thee; For how can I help them, and not myself? 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's
fee: • This is the quondam king ; let's seize upon him.
* K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities; * For wise men say, it is the wisest course. * 2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon
him. * 1 Keep. Forbear a while; we'll hear a little more. K. Hen. My queen, and son, are gone to France
for aid; And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick * Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister " To wife for Edward : If this news be true, • Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost;
For Warwick is a subtle orator, * And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. By this account, then, Margaret may win him;
For she's a woman to be pitied much: * Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; * Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; * The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn; * And Nero will be tainted with remorse, * To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears. * Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give : She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry; He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says-her Henry is depos'd; He smiles, and says—his Edward is install’d; * That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no
* Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the wrong, * Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; * And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,