Complete Plays, The

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Complete Plays, The Page 225

by William Shakespeare


  Than Jephthah’s, when he sacrificed his daughter.

  I am so sorry for my trespass made

  That, to deserve well at my brother’s hands,

  I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe,

  With resolution, wheresoe’er I meet thee —

  As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad —

  To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.

  And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,

  And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.

  Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends:

  And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,

  For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.

  King Edward IV

  Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved,

  Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.

  Gloucester

  Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike.

  Warwick

  O passing traitor, perjured and unjust!

  King Edward IV

  What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight?

  Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?

  Warwick

  Alas, I am not coop’d here for defence!

  I will away towards Barnet presently,

  And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest.

  King Edward IV

  Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way.

  Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory!

  Exeunt King Edward and his company. March. Warwick and his company follow

  SCENE II. A FIELD OF BATTLE NEAR BARNET.

  Alarum and excursions. Enter King Edward IV, bringing forth Warwick wounded

  King Edward IV

  So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;

  For Warwick was a bug that fear’d us all.

  Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,

  That Warwick’s bones may keep thine company.

  Exit

  Warwick

  Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe,

  And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick?

  Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,

  My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows.

  That I must yield my body to the earth

  And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.

  Thus yields the cedar to the axe’s edge,

  Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,

  Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,

  Whose top-branch overpeer’d Jove’s spreading tree

  And kept low shrubs from winter’s powerful wind.

  These eyes, that now are dimm’d with death’s black veil,

  Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,

  To search the secret treasons of the world:

  The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood,

  Were liken’d oft to kingly sepulchres;

  For who lived king, but I could dig his grave?

  And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow?

  Lo, now my glory smear’d in dust and blood!

  My parks, my walks, my manors that I had.

  Even now forsake me, and of all my lands

  Is nothing left me but my body’s length.

  Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?

  And, live we how we can, yet die we must.

  Enter Oxford and Somerset

  Somerset

  Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are.

  We might recover all our loss again;

  The queen from France hath brought a puissant power:

  Even now we heard the news: ah, could’st thou fly!

  Warwick

  Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague,

  If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand.

  And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!

  Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst,

  Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood

  That glues my lips and will not let me speak.

  Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

  Somerset

  Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed his last;

  And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,

  And said ‘Commend me to my valiant brother.’

  And more he would have said, and more he spoke,

  Which sounded like a clamour in a vault,

  That mought not be distinguished; but at last

  I well might hear, delivered with a groan,

  ‘O, farewell, Warwick!’

  Warwick

  Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves;

  For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven.

  Dies

  Oxford

  Away, away, to meet the queen’s great power!

  Here they bear away his body. Exeunt

  SCENE III. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.

  Flourish. Enter King Edward IV in triumph; with Gloucester, Clarence, and the rest

  King Edward IV

  Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,

  And we are graced with wreaths of victory.

  But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,

  I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,

  That will encounter with our glorious sun,

  Ere he attain his easeful western bed:

  I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen

  Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast

  And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

  Clarence

  A little gale will soon disperse that cloud

  And blow it to the source from whence it came:

  The very beams will dry those vapours up,

  For every cloud engenders not a storm.

  Gloucester

  The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,

  And Somerset, with Oxford fled to her:

  If she have time to breathe be well assured

  Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

  King Edward IV

  We are advertised by our loving friends

  That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury:

  We, having now the best at Barnet field,

  Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;

  And, as we march, our strength will be augmented

  In every county as we go along.

  Strike up the drum; cry ‘Courage!’ and away.

  Exeunt

  SCENE IV. PLAINS NEAR TEWKSBURY.

  March. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and soldiers

  Queen Margaret

  Great lords, wise men ne’er sit and wail their loss,

  But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.

  What though the mast be now blown overboard,

  The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,

  And half our sailors swallow’d in the flood?

  Yet lives our pilot still. Is’t meet that he

  Should leave the helm and like a fearful lad

  With tearful eyes add water to the sea

  And give more strength to that which hath too much,

  Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,

  Which industry and courage might have saved?

  Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!

  Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?

  And Montague our topmost; what of him?

  Our slaughter’d friends the tackles; what of these?

  Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?

  And Somerset another goodly mast?

  The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?

  And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I

  For once allow’d the skilful pilot’s charge?

  We will not from the helm to sit and weep,

  But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,

  From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.

  As good to chide the waves as speak them fai
r.

  And what is Edward but ruthless sea?

  What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?

  And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?

  All these the enemies to our poor bark.

  Say you can swim; alas, ’tis but a while!

  Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink:

  Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,

  Or else you famish; that’s a threefold death.

  This speak I, lords, to let you understand,

  If case some one of you would fly from us,

  That there’s no hoped-for mercy with the brothers

  More than with ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.

  Why, courage then! what cannot be avoided

  ’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.

  Prince Edward

  Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit

  Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,

  Infuse his breast with magnanimity

  And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.

  I speak not this as doubting any here

  For did I but suspect a fearful man

  He should have leave to go away betimes,

  Lest in our need he might infect another

  And make him of like spirit to himself.

  If any such be here — as God forbid!—

  Let him depart before we need his help.

  Oxford

  Women and children of so high a courage,

  And warriors faint! why, ’twere perpetual shame.

  O brave young prince! thy famous grandfather

  Doth live again in thee: long mayst thou live

  To bear his image and renew his glories!

  Somerset

  And he that will not fight for such a hope.

  Go home to bed, and like the owl by day,

  If he arise, be mock’d and wonder’d at.

  Queen Margaret

  Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.

  Prince Edward

  And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.

  Enter a Messenger

  Messenger

  Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand.

  Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

  Oxford

  I thought no less: it is his policy

  To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

  Somerset

  But he’s deceived; we are in readiness.

  Queen Margaret

  This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.

  Oxford

  Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.

  Flourish and march. Enter King Edward IV, Gloucester, Clarence, and soldiers

  King Edward IV

  Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

  Which, by the heavens’ assistance and your strength,

  Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.

  I need not add more fuel to your fire,

  For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out

  Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords!

  Queen Margaret

  Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say

  My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,

  Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.

  Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,

  Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp’d,

  His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,

  His statutes cancell’d and his treasure spent;

  And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.

  You fight in justice: then, in God’s name, lords,

  Be valiant and give signal to the fight.

  Alarum. Retreat. Excursions. Exeunt

  SCENE V. ANOTHER PART OF THE FIELD.

  Flourish. Enter King Edward IV, Gloucester, Clarence, and soldiers; with Queen Margaret, Oxford, and Somerset, prisoners

  King Edward IV

  Now here a period of tumultuous broils.

  Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight:

  For Somerset, off with his guilty head.

  Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.

  Oxford

  For my part, I’ll not trouble thee with words.

  Somerset

  Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.

  Exeunt Oxford and Somerset, guarded

  Queen Margaret

  So part we sadly in this troublous world,

  To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.

  King Edward IV

  Is proclamation made, that who finds Edward

  Shall have a high reward, and he his life?

  Gloucester

  It is: and lo, where youthful Edward comes!

  Enter soldiers, with Prince Edward

  King Edward IV

  Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak.

  What! can so young a thorn begin to prick?

  Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make

  For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,

  And all the trouble thou hast turn’d me to?

  Prince Edward

  Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York!

  Suppose that I am now my father’s mouth;

  Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou,

  Whilst I propose the selfsame words to thee,

  Which traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

  Queen Margaret

  Ah, that thy father had been so resolved!

  Gloucester

  That you might still have worn the petticoat,

  And ne’er have stol’n the breech from Lancaster.

  Prince Edward

  Let Aesop fable in a winter’s night;

  His currish riddles sort not with this place.

  Gloucester

  By heaven, brat, I’ll plague ye for that word.

  Queen Margaret

  Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.

  Gloucester

  For God’s sake, take away this captive scold.

  Prince Edward

  Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.

  King Edward IV

  Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.

  Clarence

  Untutor’d lad, thou art too malapert.

  Prince Edward

  I know my duty; you are all undutiful:

  Lascivious Edward, and thou perjured George,

  And thou mis-shapen Dick, I tell ye all

  I am your better, traitors as ye are:

  And thou usurp’st my father’s right and mine.

  King Edward IV

  Take that, thou likeness of this railer here.

  Stabs him

  Gloucester

  Sprawl’st thou? take that, to end thy agony.

  Stabs him

  Clarence

  And there’s for twitting me with perjury.

  Stabs him

  Queen Margaret

  O, kill me too!

  Gloucester

  Marry, and shall.

  Offers to kill her

  King Edward IV

  Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done too much.

  Gloucester

  Why should she live, to fill the world with words?

  King Edward IV

  What, doth she swoon? use means for her recovery.

  Gloucester

  Clarence, excuse me to the king my brother;

  I’ll hence to London on a serious matter:

  Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.

  Clarence

  What? what?

  Gloucester

  The Tower, the Tower.

  Exit

  Queen Margaret

  O Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mother, boy!

  Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!

  They that stabb’d Caesar shed no blood at all,

  Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,

  If this foul deed were by to equal it:


  He was a man; this, in respect, a child:

  And men ne’er spend their fury on a child.

  What’s worse than murderer, that I may name it?

  No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speak:

  And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.

  Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!

  How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp’d!

  You have no children, butchers! if you had,

  The thought of them would have stirr’d up remorse:

  But if you ever chance to have a child,

  Look in his youth to have him so cut off

  As, deathmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!

  King Edward IV

  Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.

  Queen Margaret

  Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here,

  Here sheathe thy sword, I’ll pardon thee my death:

  What, wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou.

  Clarence

  By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.

  Queen Margaret

  Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

  Clarence

  Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?

  Queen Margaret

  Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:

  ’Twas sin before, but now ’tis charity.

  What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil’s butcher,

  Hard-favour’d Richard? Richard, where art thou?

  Thou art not here: murder is thy alms-deed;

  Petitioners for blood thou ne’er put’st back.

  King Edward IV

  Away, I say; I charge ye, bear her hence.

  Queen Margaret

  So come to you and yours, as to this Prince!

  Exit, led out forcibly

  King Edward IV

  Where’s Richard gone?

  Clarence

  To London, all in post; and, as I guess,

  To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

  King Edward IV

  He’s sudden, if a thing comes in his head.

  Now march we hence: discharge the common sort

  With pay and thanks, and let’s away to London

  And see our gentle queen how well she fares:

  By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

  Exeunt

  SCENE VI. LONDON. THE TOWER.

  Enter King Henry VI and Gloucester, with the Lieutenant, on the walls

  Gloucester

  Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?

  King Henry VI

  Ay, my good lord:— my lord, I should say rather;

  ’Tis sin to flatter; ‘good’ was little better:

  ‘Good Gloucester’ and ‘good devil’ were alike,

  And both preposterous; therefore, not ‘good lord.’

  Gloucester

  Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must confer.

  Exit Lieutenant

 

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