Cade. And you that loue the Commons, follow me:Now shew your selues men, 'tis for Liberty.We will not leaue one Lord, one Gentleman:Spare none, but such as go in clouted shooen,For they are thrifty honest men, and suchAs would (but that they dare not) take our parts
But. They are all in order, and march toward vs
Cade. But then are we in order, when we are most out of order. Come, march forward.
Alarums to the fight, wherein both the Staffords are slaine. Enter Cade and the rest.
Cade. Where's Dicke, the Butcher of Ashford?But. Heere sir
Cade. They fell before thee like Sheepe and Oxen, & thou behaued'st thy selfe, as if thou hadst beene in thine owne Slaughter-house: Therfore thus will I reward thee, the Lent shall bee as long againe as it is, and thou shalt haue a License to kill for a hundred lacking one
But. I desire no more
Cade. And to speake truth, thou deseru'st no lesse. This Monument of the victory will I beare, and the bodies shall be dragg'd at my horse heeles, till I do come to London, where we will haue the Maiors sword born before vs
But. If we meane to thriue, and do good, breake openthe Gaoles, and let out the Prisoners
Cade. Feare not that I warrant thee. Come, let's marchtowards London.
Exeunt.
Enter the King with a Supplication, and the Queene with Suffolkes head, the Duke of Buckingham, and the Lord Say.
Queene. Oft haue I heard that greefe softens the mind,And makes it fearefull and degenerate,Thinke therefore on reuenge, and cease to weepe.But who can cease to weepe, and looke on this.Heere may his head lye on my throbbing brest:But where's the body that I should imbrace?Buc. What answer makes your Grace to the RebellsSupplication?King. Ile send some holy Bishop to intreat:For God forbid, so many simple soulesShould perish by the Sword. And I my selfe,Rather then bloody Warre shall cut them short,Will parley with Iacke Cade their Generall.But stay, Ile read it ouer once againe
Qu. Ah barbarous villaines: Hath this louely face,Rul'd like a wandering Plannet ouer me,And could it not inforce them to relent,That were vnworthy to behold the same
King. Lord Say, Iacke Cade hath sworne to haue thyhead
Say. I, but I hope your Highnesse shall haue his
King. How now Madam?Still lamenting and mourning for Suffolkes death?I feare me (Loue) if that I had beene dead,Thou would'st not haue mourn'd so much for me
Qu. No my Loue, I should not mourne, but dye forthee.Enter a Messenger.
King. How now? What newes? Why com'st thou insuch haste?Mes. The Rebels are in Southwarke: Fly my Lord:Iacke Cade proclaimes himselfe Lord Mortimer,Descended from the Duke of Clarence house,And calles your Grace Vsurper, openly,And vowes to Crowne himselfe in Westminster.His Army is a ragged multitudeOf Hindes and Pezants, rude and mercilesse:Sir Humfrey Stafford, and his Brothers death,Hath giuen them heart and courage to proceede:All Schollers, Lawyers, Courtiers, Gentlemen,They call false Catterpillers, and intend their death
Kin. Oh gracelesse men: they know not what they do
Buck. My gracious Lord, retire to Killingworth,Vntill a power be rais'd to put them downe
Qu. Ah were the Duke of Suffolke now aliue,These Kentish Rebels would be soone appeas'd
King. Lord Say, the Traitors hateth thee,Therefore away with vs to Killingworth
Say. So might your Graces person be in danger.The sight of me is odious in their eyes:And therefore in this Citty will I stay,And liue alone as secret as I may.Enter another Messenger.
Mess. Iacke Cade hath gotten London-bridge.The Citizens flye and forsake their houses:The Rascall people, thirsting after prey,Ioyne with the Traitor, and they ioyntly sweareTo spoyle the City, and your Royall Court
Buc. Then linger not my Lord, away, take horse
King. Come Margaret, God our hope will succor vs
Qu. My hope is gone, now Suffolke is deceast
King. Farewell my Lord, trust not the Kentish RebelsBuc. Trust no body for feare you betraid
Say. The trust I haue, is in mine innocence,And therefore am I bold and resolute.
Exeunt.
Enter Lord Scales vpon the Tower walking. Then enters two orthreeCitizens below.
Scales. How now? Is Iacke Cade slaine?1.Cit. No my Lord, nor likely to be slaine:For they haue wonne the Bridge,Killing all those that withstand them:The L[ord]. Maior craues ayd of your Honor from the TowerTo defend the City from the Rebels
Scales. Such ayd as I can spare you shall command,But I am troubled heere with them my selfe,The Rebels haue assay'd to win the Tower.But get you to Smithfield, and gather head,And thither I will send you Mathew Goffe.Fight for your King, your Countrey, and your Liues,And so farwell, for I must hence againe.
Exeunt.
Enter Iacke Cade and the rest, and strikes his staffe on London stone.
Cade. Now is Mortimer Lord of this City,And heere sitting vpon London Stone,I charge and command, that of the Cities costThe pissing Conduit run nothing but Clarret WineThis first yeare of our raigne.And now henceforward it shall be Treason for any,That calles me other then Lord Mortimer.Enter a Soldier running.
Soul. Iacke Cade, Iacke Cade
Cade. Knocke him downe there.
They kill him.
But. If this Fellow be wise, hee'l neuer call yee IackeCade more, I thinke he hath a very faire warning
Dicke. My Lord, there's an Army gathered togetherin Smithfield
Cade. Come, then let's go fight with them:But first, go and set London Bridge on fire,And if you can, burne downe the Tower too.Come, let's away.
Exeunt. omnes.
Alarums. Mathew Goffe is slain, and all the rest. Then enter Iacke Cade, with his Company.
Cade. So sirs: now go some and pull down the Sauoy:Others to'th Innes of Court, downe with them all
But. I haue a suite vnto your Lordship
Cade. Bee it a Lordshippe, thou shalt haue it for thatword
But. Onely that the Lawes of England may come outof your mouth
Iohn. Masse 'twill be sore Law then, for he was thrustin the mouth with a Speare, and 'tis not whole yet
Smith. Nay Iohn, it wil be stinking Law, for his breathstinkes with eating toasted cheese
Cade. I haue thought vpon it, it shall bee so. Away, burne all the Records of the Realme, my mouth shall be the Parliament of England
Iohn. Then we are like to haue biting StatutesVnlesse his teeth be pull'd out
Cade. And hence-forward all things shall be in Common.Enter a Messenger.
Mes. My Lord, a prize, a prize, heeres the Lord Say, which sold the Townes in France. He that made vs pay one and twenty Fifteenes, and one shilling to the pound, the last Subsidie. Enter George, with the Lord Say.
Cade. Well, hee shall be beheaded for it ten times: Ah thou Say, thou Surge, nay thou Buckram Lord, now art thou within point-blanke of our Iurisdiction Regall. What canst thou answer to my Maiesty, for giuing vp of Normandie vnto Mounsieur Basimecu, the Dolphine of France? Be it knowne vnto thee by these presence, euen the presence of Lord Mortimer, that I am the Beesome that must sweepe the Court cleane of such filth as thou art: Thou hast most traiterously corrupted the youth of the Realme, in erecting a Grammar Schoole: and whereas before, our Fore-fathers had no other Bookes but the Score and the Tally, thou hast caused printing to be vs'd, and contrary to the King, his Crowne, and Dignity, thou hast built a Paper-Mill. It will be prooued to thy Face, that thou hast men about thee, that vsually talke of a Nowne and a Verbe, and such abhominable wordes, as no Christian eare can endure to heare. Thou hast appointed Iustices of Peace, to call poore men before them, about matters they were not able to answer. Moreouer, thou hast put them in prison, and because they could not reade, thou hast hang'd them, when (indeede) onely for that cause they haue beene most worthy to liue. Thou dost ride in a foot-cloth, dost thou not? Say. What of that? Cade. Marry, thou ought'st not to let thy horse weare a Cloake, when honester men then thou go in their Hose and Doublets
Dicke. And worke in their shirt to, as my selfe for example, that am a butcher
Say. You men of Kent
Dic. What say you of Kent
Say. Nothing but this: 'Tis bona terra, mala gens
Cade. Away with him, away with him, he speaks Latine
Say. Heare me but speake, and beare mee wher'e youwill:Kent, in the Commentaries Cęsar writ,Is term'd the ciuel'st place of all this Isle:Sweet is the Country, because full of Riches,The People Liberall, Valiant, Actiue, Wealthy,Which makes me hope you are not void of pitty.I sold not Maine, I lost not Normandie,Yet to recouer them would loose my life:Iustice with fauour haue I alwayes done,Prayres and Teares haue mou'd me, Gifts could neuer.When haue I ought exacted at your hands?Kent to maintaine, the King, the Realme and you,Large gifts haue I bestow'd on learned Clearkes,Because my Booke preferr'd me to the King.And seeing Ignorance is the curse of God,Knowledge the Wing wherewith we flye to heauen.Vnlesse you be possest with diuellish spirits,You cannot but forbeare to murther me:This Tongue hath parlied vnto Forraigne KingsFor your behoofe
Cade. Tut, when struck'st thou one blow in the field?Say. Great men haue reaching hands: oft haue I struckThose that I neuer saw, and strucke them dead
Geo. O monstrous Coward! What, to come behindeFolkes?Say. These cheekes are pale for watching for your goodCade. Giue him a box o'th' eare, and that wil make 'emred againe
Say. Long sitting to determine poore mens causes,Hath made me full of sicknesse and diseases
Cade. Ye shall haue a hempen Candle then, & the helpof hatchet
Dicke. Why dost thou quiuer man?Say. The Palsie, and not feare prouokes me
Cade. Nay, he noddes at vs, as who should say, Ile be euen with you. Ile see if his head will stand steddier on a pole, or no: Take him away, and behead him
Say. Tell me: wherein haue I offended most?Haue I affected wealth, or honor? Speake.Are my Chests fill'd vp with extorted Gold?Is my Apparrell sumptuous to behold?Whom haue I iniur'd, that ye seeke my death?These hands are free from guiltlesse bloodshedding,This breast from harbouring foule deceitfull thoughts.O let me liue
Cade. I feele remorse in my selfe with his words: but Ile bridle it: he shall dye, and it bee but for pleading so well for his life. Away with him, he ha's a Familiar vnder his Tongue, he speakes not a Gods name. Goe, take him away I say, and strike off his head presently, and then breake into his Sonne in Lawes house, Sir Iames Cromer, and strike off his head, and bring them both vppon two poles hither
All. It shall be done
Say. Ah Countrimen: If when you make your prair's,God should be so obdurate as your selues:How would it fare with your departed soules,And therefore yet relent, and saue my life
Cade. Away with him, and do as I command ye: the proudest Peere in the Realme, shall not weare a head on his shoulders, vnlesse he pay me tribute: there shall not a maid be married, but she shall pay to me her Maydenhead ere they haue it: Men shall hold of mee in Capite. And we charge and command, that their wiues be as free as heart can wish, or tongue can tell
Dicke. My Lord,When shall we go to Cheapside, and take vp commoditiesvpon our billes?Cade. Marry presently
All. O braue.Enter one with the heads.
Cade. But is not this brauer:Let them kisse one another: For they lou'd wellWhen they were aliue. Now part them againe,Least they consult about the giuing vpOf some more Townes in France. Soldiers,Deferre the spoile of the Citie vntill night:For with these borne before vs, in steed of Maces,Will we ride through the streets, & at euery CornerHaue them kisse. Away.
Exit
Alarum, and Retreat. Enter againe Cade, and all his rabblement.
Cade. Vp Fish-streete, downe Saint Magnes corner, kill and knocke downe, throw them into Thames:
Sound a parley.
What noise is this I heare?Dare any be so bold to sound Retreat or ParleyWhen I command them kill?Enter Buckingham, and old Clifford.
Buc. I heere they be, that dare and will disturb thee:Know Cade, we come Ambassadors from the KingVnto the Commons, whom thou hast misled,And heere pronounce free pardon to them all,That will forsake thee, and go home in peace
Clif. What say ye Countrimen, will ye relentAnd yeeld to mercy, whil'st 'tis offered you,Or let a rabble leade you to your deaths.Who loues the King, and will imbrace his pardon,Fling vp his cap, and say, God saue his Maiesty.Who hateth him, and honors not his Father,Henry the fift, that made all France to quake,Shake he his weapon at vs, and passe by
All. God saue the King, God saue the King
Cade. What Buckingham and Clifford are ye so braue? And you base Pezants, do ye beleeue him, will you needs be hang'd with your Pardons about your neckes? Hath my sword therefore broke through London gates, that you should leaue me at the White-heart in Southwarke. I thought ye would neuer haue giuen out these Armes til you had recouered your ancient Freedome. But you are all Recreants and Dastards, and delight to liue in slauerie to the Nobility. Let them breake your backes with burthens, take your houses ouer your heads, rauish your Wiues and Daughters before your faces. For me, I will make shift for one, and so Gods Cursse light vppon you all
All. Wee'l follow Cade,Wee'l follow Cade
Clif. Is Cade the sonne of Henry the fift,That thus you do exclaime you'l go with him.Will he conduct you through the heart of France,And make the meanest of you Earles and Dukes?Alas, he hath no home, no place to flye too:Nor knowes he how to liue, but by the spoile,Vnlesse by robbing of your Friends, and vs.Wer't not a shame, that whilst you liue at iarre,The fearfull French, whom you late vanquishedShould make a start ore-seas, and vanquish you?Me thinkes alreadie in this ciuill broyle,I see them Lording it in London streets,Crying Villiago vnto all they meete.Better ten thousand base-borne Cades miscarry,Then you should stoope vnto a Frenchmans mercy.To France, to France, and get what you haue lost:Spare England, for it is your Natiue Coast:Henry hath mony, you are strong and manly:God on our side, doubt not of Victorie
All. A Clifford, a Clifford,Wee'l follow the King, and Clifford
Cade. Was euer Feather so lightly blowne too & fro, as this multitude? The name of Henry the fift, hales them to an hundred mischiefes, and makes them leaue mee desolate. I see them lay their heades together to surprize me. My sword make way for me, for heere is no staying: in despight of the diuels and hell, haue through the verie middest of you, and heauens and honor be witnesse, that no want of resolution in mee, but onely my Followers base and ignominious treasons, makes me betake mee to my heeles.
Exit
Buck. What, is he fled? Go some and follow him,And he that brings his head vnto the King,Shall haue a thousand Crownes for his reward.
Exeunt. some of them.
Follow me souldiers, wee'l deuise a meane,To reconcile you all vnto the King.
Exeunt. omnes.
Sound Trumpets. Enter King, Queene, and Somerset on the Tarras.
King. Was euer King that ioy'd an earthly Throne,And could command no more content then I?No sooner was I crept out of my Cradle,But I was made a King, at nine months olde.Was neuer Subiect long'd to be a King,As I do long and wish to be a Subiect.Enter Buckingham and Clifford.
Buc. Health and glad tydings to your Maiesty
Kin. Why Buckingham, is the Traitor Cade surpris'd?Or is he but retir'd to make him strong?Enter Multitudes with Halters about their Neckes
Clif. He is fled my Lord, and all his powers do yeeld,And humbly thus with halters on their neckes,Expect your Highnesse doome of life, or death
King. Then heauen set ope thy euerlasting gates,To entertaine my vowes of thankes and praise.Souldiers, this day haue you redeem'd your liues,And shew'd how well you loue your Prince & Countrey:Continue still in this so good a minde,And Henry though he be infortunate,Assure your selues will neuer be vnkinde:And so with thankes, and pardon to you all,I do dismisse you to your seuerall Countries
All. God saue the King, God saue the King.Enter a Messenger.
Mes. Please it your Grace to be aduertised,The Duke of Yorke is newly come from Ireland,And with a puissant and a mighty powerOf Gallow-glasses and stout Kernes,Is marching hitherward in proud array,And still proclaimeth as he comes along,His Armes are onely to remoue from theeThe Duke of Somerset, whom he tearmes a Traitor
King. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade and Yorkedistrest,Like to a Ship, that hauing scap'd a Tempest,Is straight way calme, and boorded with a Pyrate.But now is Cade driuen backe, his men dispierc'd,And now is Yorke in Armes, to second him.I pray thee Buckingham go and meete him,And aske him what's the reason of these Armes:Tell him, Ile send Duke Edmund to the Tower,And Somerset we will commit thee thither,Vntill his Army be dismist from him
Somerset. My Lord,Ile yeelde my selfe to prison willingly,Or vnto death, to do my Countrey good
King. In any case, be not to rough in termes,For he is fierce, and cannot brooke hard Language
Buc. I will my Lord, and doubt not so to deale,As all things shall redound vnto your good
King. Come wife, let's in, and learne to gouern better,For yet may England curse my wretched raigne.
Flourish. Exeunt.
Enter Cade.
Cade. Fye on Ambitions: fie on my selfe, that haue a sword, and yet am ready to famish. These fiue daies haue I hid me in these Woods, and durst not peepe out, for all the Country is laid for me: but now am I so hungry, that if I might haue a Lease of my life for a thousand yeares, I could stay no longer. Wherefore on a Bricke wall haue I climb'd into this Garden, to see if I can eate Grasse, or picke a Sallet another while, which is not amisse to coole a mans stomacke this hot weather: and I think this word Sallet was borne to do me good: for many a time but for a Sallet, my brain-pan had bene cleft with a brown Bill; and many a time when I haue beene dry, & brauely marching, it hath seru'd me insteede of a quart pot to drinke in: and now the word Sallet must serue me to feed on. Enter Iden.
Iden. Lord, who would liue turmoyled in the Court,And may enioy such quiet walkes as these?This small inheritance my Father left me,Contenteth me, and worth a Monarchy.I seeke not to waxe great by others warning,Or gather wealth I care not with what enuy:Sufficeth, that I haue maintaines my state,And sends the poore well pleased from my gate
Cade. Heere's the Lord of the soile come to seize me for a stray, for entering his Fee-simple without leaue. A Villaine, thou wilt betray me, and get a 1000. Crownes of the King by carrying my head to him, but Ile make thee eate Iron like an Ostridge, and swallow my Sword like a great pin ere thou and I part
Iden. Why rude Companion, whatsoere thou be, I know thee not, why then should I betray thee? Is't not enough to breake into my Garden, And like a Theefe to come to rob my grounds: Climbing my walles inspight of me the Owner, But thou wilt braue me with these sawcie termes? Cade. Braue thee? I by the best blood that euer was broach'd, and beard thee to. Looke on mee well, I haue eate no meate these fiue dayes, yet come thou and thy fiue men, and if I doe not leaue you all as dead as a doore naile, I pray God I may neuer eate grasse more
Iden. Nay, it shall nere be said, while England stands,That Alexander Iden an Esquire of Kent,Tooke oddes to combate a poore famisht man.Oppose thy stedfast gazing eyes to mine,See if thou canst out-face me with thy lookes:Set limbe to limbe, and thou art farre the lesser:Thy hand is but a finger to my fist,Thy legge a sticke compared with this Truncheon,My foote shall fight with all the strength thou hast,And if mine arme be heaued in the Ayre,Thy graue is digg'd already in the earth:As for words, whose greatnesse answer's words,Let this my sword report what speech forbeares
Cade. By my Valour: the most compleate Champion that euer I heard. Steele, if thou turne the edge, or cut not out the burly bon'd Clowne in chines of Beefe, ere thou sleepe in thy Sheath, I beseech Ioue on my knees thou mayst be turn'd to Hobnailes.
Heere they Fight.
O I am slaine, Famine and no other hath slaine me, let ten thousand diuelles come against me, and giue me but the ten meales I haue lost, and I'de defie them all. Wither Garden, and be henceforth a burying place to all that do dwell in this house, because the vnconquered soule of Cade is fled
Iden. Is't Cade that I haue slain, that monstrous traitor?Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deede,And hang thee o're my Tombe, when I am dead.Ne're shall this blood be wiped from thy point,But thou shalt weare it as a Heralds coate,To emblaze the Honor that thy Master got
Cade. Iden farewell, and be proud of thy victory: Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the World to be Cowards: For I that neuer feared any, am vanquished by Famine, not by Valour.
Dyes.
Id. How much thou wrong'st me, heauen be my iudge;Die damned Wretch, the curse of her that bare thee:And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,So wish I, I might thrust thy soule to hell.Hence will I dragge thee headlong by the heelesVnto a dunghill, which shall be thy graue,And there cut off thy most vngracious head,Which I will beare in triumph to the King,Leauing thy trunke for Crowes to feed vpon.Enter.
Enter Yorke, and his Army of Irish, with Drum and Colours.
Yor. From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right,And plucke the Crowne from feeble Henries head.Ring Belles alowd, burne Bonfires cleare and brightTo entertaine great Englands lawfull King.Ah Sancta Maiestas! who would not buy thee deere?Let them obey, that knowes not how to Rule.This hand was made to handle nought but Gold.I cannot giue due action to my words,Except a Sword or Scepter ballance it.A Scepter shall it haue, haue I a soule,On which Ile tosse the Fleure-de-Luce of France.Enter Buckingham.
Whom haue we heere? Buckingham to disturbe me?The king hath sent him sure: I must dissemble
Buc. Yorke, if thou meanest wel, I greet thee well
Yor. Humfrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.Art thou a Messenger, or come of pleasure
Buc. A Messenger from Henry, our dread Liege,To know the reason of these Armes in peace.Or why, thou being a Subiect, as I am,Against thy Oath, and true Allegeance sworne,Should raise so great a power without his leaue?Or dare to bring thy Force so neere the Court?Yor. Scarse can I speake, my Choller is so great.Oh I could hew vp Rockes, and fight with Flint,I am so angry at these abiect tearmes.And now like Aiax Telamonius,On Sheepe or Oxen could I spend my furie.I am farre better borne then is the king:More like a King, more Kingly in my thoughts.But I must make faire weather yet a while,Till Henry be more weake, and I more strong.Buckingham, I prethee pardon me,That I haue giuen no answer all this while:My minde was troubled with deepe Melancholly.The cause why I haue brought this Armie hither,Is to remoue proud Somerset from the King,Seditious to his Grace, and to the State
Buc. That is too much presumption on thy part:But if thy Armes be to no other end,The King hath yeelded vnto thy demand:The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower
Yorke. Vpon thine Honor is he Prisoner?Buck. Vpon mine Honor he is Prisoner
Yorke. Then Buckingham I do dismisse my Powres.Souldiers, I thanke you all: disperse your selues:Meet me to morrow in S[aint]. Georges Field,You shall haue pay, and euery thing you wish.And let my Soueraigne, vertuous Henry,Command my eldest sonne, nay all my sonnes,As pledges of my Fealtie and Loue,Ile send them all as willing as I liue:Lands, Goods, Horse, Armor, any thing I haueIs his to vse, so Somerset may die
Buc. Yorke, I commend this kinde submission,We twaine will go into his Highnesse Tent.Enter King and Attendants.
King. Buckingham, doth Yorke intend no harme to vsThat thus he marcheth with thee arme in arme?Yorke. In all submission and humility,Yorke doth present himselfe vnto your Highnesse
K. Then what intends these Forces thou dost bring?Yor. To heaue the Traitor Somerset from hence,And fight against that monstrous Rebell Cade,Who since I heard to be discomfited.Enter Iden with Cades head.
Iden. If one so rude, and of so meane conditionMay passe into the presence of a King:Loe, I present your Grace a Traitors head,The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew
King. The head of Cade? Great God, how iust art thou?Oh let me view his Visage being dead,That liuing wrought me such exceeding trouble.Tell me my Friend, art thou the man that slew him?Iden. I was, an't like your Maiesty
King. How art thou call'd? And what is thy degree?Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name,A poore Esquire of Kent, that loues his King
Buc. So please it you my Lord, 'twere not amisseHe were created Knight for his good seruice
King. Iden, kneele downe, rise vp a Knight:We giue thee for reward a thousand Markes,And will, that thou henceforth attend on vs
Iden. May Iden liue to merit such a bountie,And neuer liue but true vnto his Liege.Enter Queene and Somerset.
K. See Buckingham, Somerset comes with th' Queene,Go bid her hide him quickly from the Duke
Qu. For thousand Yorkes he shall not hide his head,But boldly stand, and front him to his face
Yor. How now? is Somerset at libertie?Then Yorke vnloose thy long imprisoned thoughts,And let thy tongue be equall with thy heart.Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?False King, why hast thou broken faith with me,Knowing how hardly I can brooke abuse?King did I call thee? No: thou art not King:Not fit to gouerne and rule multitudes,Which dar'st not, no nor canst not rule a Traitor.That Head of thine doth not become a Crowne:Thy Hand is made to graspe a Palmers staffe,And not to grace an awefull Princely Scepter.That Gold, must round engirt these browes of mine,Whose Smile and Frowne, like to Achilles SpeareIs able with the change, to kill and cure.Heere is hand to hold a Scepter vp,And with the same to acte controlling Lawes:Giue place: by heauen thou shalt rule no moreO're him, whom heauen created for thy Ruler
Som. O monstrous Traitor! I arrest thee YorkeOf Capitall Treason 'gainst the King and Crowne:Obey audacious Traitor, kneele for Grace
York. Wold'st haue me kneele? First let me ask of thee,If they can brooke I bow a knee to man:Sirrah, call in my sonne to be my bale:I know ere they will haue me go to Ward,They'l pawne their swords of my infranchisement
Qu. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amaine,To say, if that the Bastard boyes of YorkeShall be the Surety for their Traitor Father
Yorke. O blood-bespotted Neopolitan,Out-cast of Naples, Englands bloody Scourge,The sonnes of Yorke, thy betters in their birth,Shall be their Fathers baile, and bane to thoseThat for my Surety will refuse the Boyes.Enter Edward and Richard.
See where they come, Ile warrant they'l make it good.Enter Clifford.
Qu. And here comes Clifford to deny their baile
Clif. Health, and all happinesse to my Lord the King
Yor. I thanke thee Clifford: Say, what newes with thee?Nay, do not fright vs with an angry looke:We are thy Soueraigne Clifford, kneele againe;For thy mistaking so, We pardon thee
Clif. This is my King Yorke, I do not mistake,But thou mistakes me much to thinke I do,To Bedlem with him, is the man growne mad
King. I Clifford, a Bedlem and ambitious humorMakes him oppose himselfe against his King
Clif. He is a Traitor, let him to the Tower,And chop away that factious pate of his
Qu. He is arrested, but will not obey:His sonnes (he sayes) shall giue their words for him
Yor. Will you not Sonnes?Edw. I Noble Father, if our words will serue
Rich. And if words will not, then our Weapons shal
Clif. Why what a brood of Traitors haue we heere?Yorke. Looke in a Glasse, and call thy Image so.I am thy King, and thou a false-heart Traitor:Call hither to the stake my two braue Beares,That with the very shaking of their Chaines,They may astonish these fell-lurking Curres,Bid Salsbury and Warwicke come to me.Enter the Earles of Warwicke, and Salisbury.
Clif. Are these thy Beares? Wee'l bate thy Bears to death,And manacle the Berard in their Chaines,If thou dar'st bring them to the bayting place
Rich. Oft haue I seene a hot ore-weening Curre,Run backe and bite, because he was with-held,Who being suffer'd with the Beares fell paw,Hath clapt his taile, betweene his legges and cride,And such a peece of seruice will you do,If you oppose your selues to match Lord Warwicke
Clif. Hence heape of wrath, foule indigested lumpe,As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape
Yor. Nay we shall heate you thorowly anon
Clif. Take heede least by your heate you burne yourselues:King. Why Warwicke, hath thy knee forgot to bow?Old Salsbury, shame to thy siluer haire,Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sicke sonne,What wilt thou on thy death-bed play the Ruffian?And seeke for sorrow with thy Spectacles?Oh where is Faith? Oh, where is Loyalty?If it be banisht from the frostie head,Where shall it finde a harbour in the earth?Wilt thou go digge a graue to finde out Warre,And shame thine honourable Age with blood?Why art thou old, and want'st experience?Or wherefore doest abuse it, if thou hast it?For shame in dutie bend thy knee to me,That bowes vnto the graue with mickle age
Sal. My Lord, I haue considered with my selfeThe Title of this most renowned Duke,And in my conscience, do repute his graceThe rightfull heyre to Englands Royall seate
King. Hast thou not sworne Allegeance vnto me?Sal. I haue
Ki. Canst thou dispense with heauen for such an oath?Sal. It is great sinne, to sweare vnto a sinne:But greater sinne to keepe a sinfull oath:Who can be bound by any solemne VowTo do a murd'rous deede, to rob a man,To force a spotlesse Virgins Chastitie,To reaue the Orphan of his Patrimonie,To wring the Widdow from her custom'd right,And haue no other reason for this wrong,But that he was bound by a solemne Oath?Qu. A subtle Traitor needs no Sophister
King. Call Buckingham, and bid him arme himselfe
Yorke. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast,I am resolu'd for death and dignitie
Old Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreames proue trueWar. You were best to go to bed, and dreame againe,To keepe thee from the Tempest of the field
Old Clif. I am resolu'd to beare a greater storme,Then any thou canst coniure vp to day:And that Ile write vpon thy Burgonet,Might I but know thee by thy housed Badge
War. Now by my Fathers badge, old Neuils Crest,The rampant Beare chain'd to the ragged staffe,This day Ile weare aloft my Burgonet,As on a Mountaine top, the Cedar shewes,That keepes his leaues inspight of any storme,Euen to affright thee with the view thereof
Old Clif. And from thy Burgonet Ile rend thy Beare,And tread it vnder foot with all contempt,Despight the Bearard, that protects the Beare
Yo.Clif. And so to Armes victorious Father,To quell the Rebels, and their Complices
Rich. Fie, Charitie for shame, speake not in spight,For you shall sup with Iesu Christ to night
Yo.Clif. Foule stygmaticke that's more then thoucanst tell
Ric. If not in heauen, you'l surely sup in hell.
Exeunt.
Enter Warwicke.
War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwicke calles:And if thou dost not hide thee from the Beare,Now when the angrie Trumpet sounds alarum,And dead mens cries do fill the emptie ayre,Clifford I say, come forth and fight with me,Proud Northerne Lord, Clifford of Cumberland,Warwicke is hoarse with calling thee to armes.Enter Yorke.
War. How now my Noble Lord? What all a-foot
Yor. The deadly handed Clifford slew my Steed:But match to match I haue encountred him,And made a prey for Carrion Kytes and CrowesEuen of the bonnie beast he loued so well.Enter Clifford.
War. Of one or both of vs the time is come
Yor. Hold Warwick: seek thee out some other chaceFor I my selfe must hunt this Deere to death
War. Then nobly Yorke, 'tis for a Crown thou fightst:As I intend Clifford to thriue to day,It greeues my soule to leaue thee vnassail'd.
Exit War.
Clif. What seest thou in me Yorke?Why dost thou pause?Yorke. With thy braue bearing should I be in loue,But that thou art so fast mine enemie
Clif. Nor should thy prowesse want praise & esteeme,But that 'tis shewne ignobly, and in Treason
Yorke. So let it helpe me now against thy sword,As I in iustice, and true right expresse it
Clif. My soule and bodie on the action both
Yor. A dreadfull lay, addresse thee instantly
Clif. La fin Corrone les eumenes
Yor. Thus Warre hath giuen thee peace, for y art still,Peace with his soule, heauen if it be thy will.Enter yong Clifford.
Clif. Shame and Confusion all is on the rout,Feare frames disorder, and disorder woundsWhere it should guard. O Warre, thou sonne of hell,Whom angry heauens do make their minister,Throw in the frozen bosomes of our part,Hot Coales of Vengeance. Let no Souldier flye.He that is truly dedicate to Warre,Hath no selfe-loue: nor he that loues himselfe,Hath not essentially, but by circumstanceThe name of Valour. O let the vile world end,And the premised Flames of the Last day,Knit earth and heauen together.Now let the generall Trumpet blow his blast,Particularities, and pettie soundsTo cease. Was't thou ordain'd (deere Father)To loose thy youth in peace, and to atcheeueThe Siluer Liuery of aduised Age,And in thy Reuerence, and thy Chaire-dayes, thusTo die in Ruffian battell? Euen at this sight,My heart is turn'd to stone: and while 'tis mine,It shall be stony. Yorke, not our old men spares:No more will I their Babes, Teares Virginall,Shall be to me, euen as the Dew to Fire,And Beautie, that the Tyrant oft reclaimes,Shall to my flaming wrath, be Oyle and Flax:Henceforth, I will not haue to do with pitty.Meet I an infant of the house of Yorke,Into as many gobbits will I cut itAs wilde Medea yong Absirtis did.In cruelty, will I seeke out my Fame.Come thou new ruine of olde Cliffords house:As did Aeneas old Anchyses beare,So beare I thee vpon my manly shoulders:But then, Aeneas bare a liuing loade;Nothing so heauy as these woes of mine.Enter Richard, and Somerset to fight.
Rich. So lye thou there:For vnderneath an Ale-house paltry signe,The Castle in S[aint]. Albons, SomersetHath made the Wizard famous in his death:Sword, hold thy temper; Heart, be wrathfull still:Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill.
Fight. Excursions.
Enter King, Queene, and others.
Qu. Away my Lord, you are slow, for shame away
King. Can we outrun the Heauens? Good Margaretstay
Qu. What are you made of? You'l nor fight nor fly:Now is it manhood, wisedome, and defence,To giue the enemy way, and to secure vsBy what we can, which can no more but flye.
Alarum a farre off.
If you be tane, we then should see the bottomeOf all our Fortunes: but if we haply scape,(As well we may, if not through your neglect)We shall to London get, where you are lou'd,And where this breach now in our Fortunes madeMay readily be stopt.Enter Clifford.
Clif. But that my hearts on future mischeefe set,I would speake blasphemy ere bid you flye:But flye you must: Vncureable discomfiteReignes in the hearts of all our present parts.Away for your releefe, and we will liueTo see their day, and them our Fortune giue.Away my Lord, away.
Exeunt.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwicke, and Soldiers,with Drum &Colours.
Yorke. Of Salsbury, who can report of him,That Winter Lyon, who in rage forgetsAged contusions, and all brush of Time:And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth,Repaires him with Occasion. This happy dayIs not it selfe, nor haue we wonne one foot,If Salsbury be lost
Rich. My Noble Father:Three times to day I holpe him to his horse,Three times bestrid him: Thrice I led him off,Perswaded him from any further act:But still where danger was, still there I met him,And like rich hangings in a homely house,So was his Will, in his old feeble body,But Noble as he is, looke where he comes.Enter Salisbury.
Sal. Now by my Sword, well hast thou fought to day:By'th' Masse so did we all. I thanke you Richard.God knowes how long it is I haue to liue:And it hath pleas'd him that three times to dayYou haue defended me from imminent death.Well Lords, we haue not got that which we haue,'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,Being opposites of such repayring Nature
Yorke. I know our safety is to follow them,For (as I heare) the King is fled to London,To call a present Court of Parliament:Let vs pursue him ere the Writs go forth.What sayes Lord Warwicke, shall we after them?War. After them: nay before them if we can:Now by my hand (Lords) 'twas a glorious day.Saint Albons battell wonne by famous Yorke,Shall be eterniz'd in all Age to come.Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and to London all,And more such dayes as these, to vs befall.
Exeunt.
FINIS. The second Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of theGood DukeHVMFREY.
The third Part of Henry the Sixt
with the death of the Duke of Yorke
Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.
Alarum.
Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mountague,Warwicke, andSouldiers.
Warwicke. I Wonder how the King escap'd our hands?Pl. While we pursu'd the Horsmen of y North,He slyly stole away, and left his men:Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,Whose Warlike eares could neuer brooke retreat,Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himselfe.Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a-brestCharg'd our maine Battailes Front: and breaking in,Were by the Swords of common Souldiers slaine
Edw. Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham,Is either slaine or wounded dangerous.I cleft his Beauer with a down-right blow:That this is true (Father) behold his blood
Mount. And Brother, here's the Earle of Wiltshires blood,Whom I encountred as the Battels ioyn'd
Rich. Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did
Plan. Richard hath best deseru'd of all my sonnes:But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?Nor. Such hope haue all the line of Iohn of Gaunt
Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King Henries head
Warw. And so doe I, victorious Prince of Yorke.Before I see thee seated in that Throne,Which now the House of Lancaster vsurpes,I vow by Heauen, these eyes shall neuer close.This is the Pallace of the fearefull King,And this the Regall Seat: possesse it Yorke,For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires
Plant. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will,For hither we haue broken in by force
Norf. Wee'le all assist you: he that flyes, shall dye
Plant. Thankes gentle Norfolke, stay by me my Lords,And Souldiers stay and lodge by me this Night.
They goe vp.
Warw. And when the King comes, offer him no violence,Vnlesse he seeke to thrust you out perforce
Plant. The Queene this day here holds her Parliament,But little thinkes we shall be of her counsaile,By words or blowes here let vs winne our right
Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this House
Warw. The bloody Parliament shall this be call'd,Vnlesse Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be King,And bashfull Henry depos'd, whose CowardizeHath made vs by-words to our enemies
Plant. Then leaue me not, my Lords be resolute,I meane to take possession of my Right
Warw. Neither the King, nor he that loues him best,The prowdest hee that holds vp Lancaster,Dares stirre a Wing, if Warwick shake his Bells.Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares:Resolue thee Richard, clayme the English Crowne.
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.
Henry. My Lords, looke where the sturdie Rebell sits,Euen in the Chayre of State: belike he meanes,Backt by the power of Warwicke, that false Peere,To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King.Earle of Northumberland, he slew thy Father,And thine, Lord Clifford, & you both haue vow'd reuengeOn him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his friends
Northumb. If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me
Clifford. The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne inSteele
Westm. What, shall we suffer this? lets pluck him down,My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it
Henry. Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland
Clifford. Patience is for Poultroones, such as he:He durst not sit there, had your Father liu'd.My gracious Lord, here in the ParliamentLet vs assayle the Family of Yorke
North. Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so
Henry. Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them,And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck?Westm. But when the Duke is slaine, they'le quicklyflye
Henry. Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart,To make a Shambles of the Parliament House.Cousin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats,Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vse.Thou factious Duke of Yorke descend my Throne,And kneele for grace and mercie at my feet,I am thy Soueraigne
Yorke. I am thine
Exet. For shame come downe, he made thee Duke ofYorke
Yorke. It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was
Exet. Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne
Warw. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne,In following this vsurping Henry
Clifford. Whom should hee follow, but his naturallKing?Warw. True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke
Henry. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my Throne?Yorke. It must and shall be so, content thy selfe
Warw. Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King
Westm. He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster,And that the Lord of Westmerland shall maintaine
Warw. And Warwick shall disproue it. You forget,That we are those which chas'd you from the field,And slew your Fathers, and with Colours spreadMarcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates
Northumb. Yes Warwicke, I remember it to my griefe,And by his Soule, thou and thy House shall rue it
Westm. Plantagenet, of thee and these thy Sonnes,Thy Kinsmen, and thy Friends, Ile haue more liuesThen drops of bloud were in my Fathers Veines
Cliff. Vrge it no more, lest that in stead of words,I send thee, Warwicke, such a Messenger,As shall reuenge his death, before I stirre
Warw. Poore Clifford, how I scorne his worthlesseThreats
Plant. Will you we shew our Title to the Crowne?If not, our Swords shall pleade it in the field
Henry. What Title hast thou Traytor to the Crowne?My Father was as thou art, Duke of Yorke,Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of March.I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift,Who made the Dolphin and the French to stoupe,And seiz'd vpon their Townes and Prouinces
Warw. Talke not of France, sith thou hast lost it all
Henry. The Lord Protector lost it, and not I:When I was crown'd, I was but nine moneths old
Rich. You are old enough now,And yet me thinkes you loose:Father teare the Crowne from the Vsurpers Head
Edward. Sweet Father doe so, set it on your Head
Mount. Good Brother,As thou lou'st and honorest Armes,Let's fight it out, and not stand cauilling thus
Richard. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and theKing will flye
Plant. Sonnes peace
Henry. Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue tospeake
Warw. Plantagenet shal speake first: Heare him Lords,And be you silent and attentiue too,For he that interrupts him, shall not liue
Hen. Think'st thou, that I will leaue my Kingly Throne,Wherein my Grandsire and my Father sat?No: first shall Warre vnpeople this my Realme;I, and their Colours often borne in France,And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow,Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords?My Title's good, and better farre then his
Warw. Proue it Henry, and thou shalt be King
Hen. Henry the Fourth by Conquest got the Crowne
Plant. 'Twas by Rebellion against his King
Henry. I know not what to say, my Titles weake:Tell me, may not a King adopt an Heire?Plant. What then?Henry. And if he may, then am I lawfull King:For Richard, in the view of many Lords,Resign'd the Crowne to Henry the Fourth,Whose Heire my Father was, and I am his
Plant. He rose against him, being his Soueraigne,And made him to resigne his Crowne perforce
Warw. Suppose, my Lords, he did it vnconstrayn'd,Thinke you 'twere preiudiciall to his Crowne?Exet. No: for he could not so resigne his Crowne,But that the next Heire should succeed and reigne
Henry. Art thou against vs, Duke of Exeter?Exet. His is the right, and therefore pardon me
Plant. Why whisper you, my Lords, and answer not?Exet. My Conscience tells me he is lawfull King
Henry. All will reuolt from me, and turne to him
Northumb. Plantagenet, for all the Clayme thou lay'st,Thinke not, that Henry shall be so depos'd
Warw. Depos'd he shall be, in despight of all
Northumb. Thou art deceiu'd:'Tis not thy Southerne powerOf Essex, Norfolke, Suffolke, nor of Kent,Which makes thee thus presumptuous and prowd,Can set the Duke vp in despight of me
Clifford. King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong,Lord Clifford vowes to fight in thy defence:May that ground gape, and swallow me aliue,Where I shall kneele to him that slew my Father
Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words reuiue my heart
Plant. Henry of Lancaster, resigne thy Crowne:What mutter you, or what conspire you Lords?Warw. Doe right vnto this Princely Duke of Yorke,Or I will fill the House with armed men,And ouer the Chayre of State, where now he sits,Write vp his Title with vsurping blood.
He stampes with his foot, and the Souldiers shew themselues.
Henry. My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word,Let me for this my life time reigne as King
Plant. Confirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires,And thou shalt reigne in quiet while thou liu'st
Henry. I am content: Richard PlantagenetEnioy the Kingdome after my decease
Clifford. What wrong is this vnto the Prince, yourSonne?Warw. What good is this to England, and himselfe?Westm. Base, fearefull, and despayring Henry
Clifford. How hast thou iniur'd both thy selfe and vs?Westm. I cannot stay to heare these Articles
Northumb. Nor I
Clifford. Come Cousin, let vs tell the Queene theseNewes
Westm. Farwell faint-hearted and degenerate King,In whose cold blood no sparke of Honor bides
Northumb. Be thou a prey vnto the House of Yorke,And dye in Bands, for this vnmanly deed
Cliff. In dreadfull Warre may'st thou be ouercome,Or liue in peace abandon'd and despis'd
Warw. Turne this way Henry, and regard them not
Exeter. They seeke reuenge, and therefore will notyeeld?Henry. Ah Exeter
Warw. Why should you sigh, my Lord?Henry. Not for my selfe Lord Warwick, but my Sonne,Whom I vnnaturally shall dis-inherite.But be it as it may: I here entayleThe Crowne to thee and to thine Heires for euer,Conditionally, that heere thou take an Oath,To cease this Ciuill Warre: and whil'st I liue,To honor me as thy King, and Soueraigne:And neyther by Treason nor Hostilitie,To seeke to put me downe, and reigne thy selfe
Plant. This Oath I willingly take, and will performe
Warw. Long liue King Henry: Plantagenet embracehim
Henry. And long liue thou, and these thy forwardSonnes
Plant. Now Yorke and Lancaster are reconcil'd
Exet. Accurst be he that seekes to make them foes.
Senet. Here they come downe.
Plant. Farewell my gracious Lord, Ile to my Castle
Warw. And Ile keepe London with my Souldiers
Norf. And I to Norfolke with my followers
Mount. And I vnto the Sea, from whence I came
Henry. And I with griefe and sorrow to the Court.Enter the Queene.
Exeter. Heere comes the Queene,Whose Lookes bewray her anger:Ile steale away
Henry. Exeter so will I
Queene. Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee
Henry. Be patient gentle Queene, and I will stay
Queene. Who can be patient in such extreames?Ah wretched man, would I had dy'de a Maid?And neuer seene thee, neuer borne thee Sonne,Seeing thou hast prou'd so vnnaturall a Father.Hath he deseru'd to loose his Birth-right thus?Hadst thou but lou'd him halfe so well as I,Or felt that paine which I did for him once,Or nourisht him, as I did with my blood;Thou would'st haue left thy dearest heart-blood there,Rather then haue made that sauage Duke thine Heire,And dis-inherited thine onely Sonne
Prince. Father, you cannot dis-inherite me:If you be King, why should not I succeede?Henry. Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet Sonne,The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enforc't me
Quee. Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forc't?I shame to heare thee speake: ah timorous Wretch,Thou hast vndone thy selfe, thy Sonne, and me,And giu'n vnto the House of Yorke such head,As thou shalt reigne but by their sufferance.To entayle him and his Heires vnto the Crowne,What is it, but to make thy Sepulcher,And creepe into it farre before thy time?Warwick is Chancelor, and the Lord of Callice,Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas,The Duke is made Protector of the Realme,And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safetie findesThe trembling Lambe, inuironned with Wolues.Had I beene there, which am a silly Woman,The Souldiers should haue toss'd me on their Pikes,Before I would haue granted to that Act.But thou preferr'st thy Life, before thine Honor.And seeing thou do'st, I here diuorce my selfe,Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed,Vntill that Act of Parliament be repeal'd,Whereby my Sonne is dis-inherited.The Northerne Lords, that haue forsworne thy Colours,Will follow mine, if once they see them spread:And spread they shall be, to thy foule disgrace,And vtter ruine of the House of Yorke.Thus doe I leaue thee: Come Sonne, let's away,Our Army is ready; come, wee'le after them
Henry. Stay gentle Margaret, and heare me speake
Queene. Thou hast spoke too much already: get theegone
Henry. Gentle Sonne Edward, thou wilt stay me?Queene. I, to be murther'd by his Enemies
Prince. When I returne with victorie to the field,Ile see your Grace: till then, Ile follow her
Queene. Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus
Henry. Poore Queene,How loue to me, and to her Sonne,Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage.Reueng'd may she be on that hatefull Duke,Whose haughtie spirit, winged with desire,Will cost my Crowne, and like an emptie Eagle,Tyre on the flesh of me, and of my Sonne.The losse of those three Lords torments my heart:Ile write vnto them, and entreat them faire;Come Cousin, you shall be the Messenger
Exet. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.Enter.
Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.
Richard. Brother, though I bee youngest, giue mee leaue
Edward. No, I can better play the Orator
Mount. But I haue reasons strong and forceable.Enter the Duke of Yorke.
Yorke. Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a strife?What is your Quarrell? how began it first?Edward. No Quarrell, but a slight Contention
Yorke. About what?Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and vs,The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours
Yorke. Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead
Richard. Your Right depends not on his life, or death
Edward. Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now:By giuing the House of Lancaster leaue to breathe,It will out-runne you, Father, in the end
Yorke. I tooke an Oath, that hee should quietlyreigne
Edward. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken:I would breake a thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere
Richard. No: God forbid your Grace should be forsworne
Yorke. I shall be, if I clayme by open Warre
Richard. Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare mee speake
Yorke. Thou canst not, Sonne: it is impossible
Richard. An Oath is of no moment, being not tookeBefore a true and lawfull Magistrate,That hath authoritie ouer him that sweares.Henry had none, but did vsurpe the place.Then seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous.Therefore to Armes: and Father doe but thinke,How sweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne,Within whose Circuit is Elizium,And all that Poets faine of Blisse and Ioy.Why doe we linger thus? I cannot rest,Vntill the White Rose that I weare, be dy'deEuen in the luke-warme blood of Henries heart
Yorke. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye.Brother, thou shalt to London presently,And whet on Warwick to this Enterprise.Thou Richard shalt to the Duke of Norfolke,And tell him priuily of our intent.You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham,With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise.In them I trust: for they are Souldiors,Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit.While you are thus imploy'd, what resteth more?But that I seeke occasion how to rise,And yet the King not priuie to my Drift,Nor any of the House of Lancaster.Enter Gabriel.
But stay, what Newes? Why comm'st thou in suchposte?Gabriel. The Queene,With all the Northerne Earles and Lords,Intend here to besiege you in your Castle.She is hard by, with twentie thousand men:And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord
Yorke. I, with my Sword.What? think'st thou, that we feare them?Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me,My Brother Mountague shall poste to London.Let Noble Warwicke, Cobham, and the rest,Whom we haue left Protectors of the King,With powrefull Pollicie strengthen themselues,And trust not simple Henry, nor his Oathes
Mount. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not.And thus most humbly I doe take my leaue.
Exit Mountague.
Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.
York. Sir Iohn, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles,You are come to Sandall in a happie houre.The Armie of the Queene meane to besiege vs
Iohn. Shee shall not neede, wee'le meete her in thefield
Yorke. What, with fiue thousand men?Richard. I, with fiue hundred, Father, for a neede.A Woman's generall: what should we feare?
A March afarre off.
Edward. I heare their Drummes:Let's set our men in order,And issue forth, and bid them Battaile straight
Yorke. Fiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great,I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Victorie.Many a Battaile haue I wonne in France,When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one:Why should I not now haue the like successe?