Exet. Away: for vengeance comes along with them.Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed,Or else come after, Ile away before
Hen. Nay take me with thee, good sweet Exeter:Not that I feare to stay, but loue to goWhether the Queene intends. Forward, away.
Exeunt.
A lowd alarum. Enter Clifford Wounded.
Clif. Heere burnes my Candle out; I, heere it dies,Which whiles it lasted, gaue King Henry light.O Lancaster! I feare thy ouerthrow,More then my Bodies parting with my Soule:My Loue and Feare, glew'd many Friends to thee,And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melts,Impairing Henry, strength'ning misproud Yorke;And whether flye the Gnats, but to the Sunne?And who shines now, but Henries Enemies?O Phoebus! had'st thou neuer giuen consent,That Phæton should checke thy fiery Steeds,Thy burning Carre neuer had scorch'd the earth.And Henry, had'st thou sway'd as Kings should do,Or as thy Father, and his Father did,Giuing no ground vnto the house of Yorke,They neuer then had sprung like Sommer Flyes:I, and ten thousand in this lucklesse Realme,Had left no mourning Widdowes for our death,And thou this day, had'st kept thy Chaire in peace.For what doth cherrish Weeds, but gentle ayre?And what makes Robbers bold, but too much lenity?Bootlesse are Plaints, and Curelesse are my Wounds:No way to flye, no strength to hold out flight:The Foe is mercilesse, and will not pitty:For at their hands I haue deseru'd no pitty.The ayre hath got into my deadly Wounds,And much effuse of blood, doth make me faint:Come Yorke, and Richard, Warwicke, and the rest,I stab'd your Fathers bosomes; Split my brest.
Alarum & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, and Soldiers, Montague, & Clarence.
Ed. Now breath we Lords, good fortune bids vs pause,And smooth the frownes of War, with peacefull lookes:Some Troopes pursue the bloody-minded Queene,That led calme Henry, though he were a King,As doth a Saile, fill'd with a fretting GustCommand an Argosie to stemme the Waues.But thinke you (Lords) that Clifford fled with them?War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape:(For though before his face I speake the words)Your Brother Richard markt him for the Graue.And wheresoere he is, hee's surely dead.
Clifford grones
Rich. Whose soule is that which takes hir heauy leaue?A deadly grone, like life and deaths departing.See who it is
Ed. And now the Battailes ended,If Friend or Foe, let him be gently vsed
Rich. Reuoke that doome of mercy, for 'tis Clifford,Who not contented that he lopp'd the BranchIn hewing Rutland, when his leaues put forth,But set his murth'ring knife vnto the Roote,From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,I meane our Princely Father, Duke of Yorke
War. From off the gates of Yorke, fetch down y head,Your Fathers head, which Clifford placed there:In stead whereof, let this supply the roome,Measure for measure, must be answered
Ed. Bring forth that fatall Schreechowle to our house,That nothing sung but death, to vs and ours:Now death shall stop his dismall threatning sound,And his ill-boading tongue, no more shall speake
War. I thinke his vnderstanding is bereft:Speake Clifford, dost thou know who speakes to thee?Darke cloudy death ore-shades his beames of life,And he nor sees, nor heares vs, what we say
Rich. O would he did, and so (perhaps) he doth,'Tis but his policy to counterfet,Because he would auoid such bitter tauntsWhich in the time of death he gaue our Father
Cla. If so thou think'st,Vex him with eager Words
Rich. Clifford, aske mercy, and obtaine no grace
Ed. Clifford, repent in bootlesse penitence
War. Clifford, deuise excuses for thy faults
Cla. While we deuise fell Tortures for thy faults
Rich. Thou didd'st loue Yorke, and I am son to Yorke
Edw. Thou pittied'st Rutland, I will pitty thee
Cla. Where's Captaine Margaret, to fence you now?War. They mocke thee Clifford,Sweare as thou was't wont
Ric. What, not an Oath? Nay then the world go's hardWhen Clifford cannot spare his Friends an oath:I know by that he's dead, and by my Soule,If this right hand would buy two houres life,That I (in all despight) might rayle at him,This hand should chop it off: & with the issuing BloodStifle the Villaine, whose vnstanched thirstYorke, and yong Rutland could not satisfieWar. I, but he's dead. Of with the Traitors head,And reare it in the place your Fathers stands.And now to London with Triumphant march,There to be crowned Englands Royall King:From whence, shall Warwicke cut the Sea to France,And aske the Ladie Bona for thy Queene:So shalt thou sinow both these Lands together,And hauing France thy Friend, thou shalt not dreadThe scattred Foe, that hopes to rise againe:For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,Yet looke to haue them buz to offend thine eares:First, will I see the Coronation,And then to Britanny Ile crosse the Sea,To effect this marriage, so it please my Lord
Ed. Euen as thou wilt sweet Warwicke, let it bee:For in thy shoulder do I builde my Seate;And neuer will I vndertake the thingWherein thy counsaile and consent is wanting:Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,And George of Clarence; Warwicke as our Selfe,Shall do, and vndo as him pleaseth best
Rich. Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloster,For Glosters Dukedome is too ominous
War. Tut, that's a foolish obseruation:Richard, be Duke of Gloster: Now to London,To see these Honors in possession.
Exeunt.
Enter Sinklo, and Humfrey, with Crosse-bowes in their hands.
Sink. Vnder this thicke growne brake, wee'l shrowd our selues:For through this Laund anon the Deere will come,And in this couert will we make our Stand,Culling the principall of all the Deere
Hum. Ile stay aboue the hill, so both may shoot
Sink. That cannot be, the noise of thy Crosse-bowWill scarre the Heard, and so my shoot is lost:Heere stand we both, and ayme we at the best:And for the time shall not seeme tedious,Ile tell thee what befell me on a day,In this selfe-place, where now we meane to stand
Sink. Heere comes a man, let's stay till he be past:Enter the King with a Prayer booke.
Hen. From Scotland am I stolne euen of pure loue,To greet mine owne Land with my wishfull sight:No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine,Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee,Thy Balme washt off, wherewith thou was Annointed:No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,No humble suters prease to speake for right:No, not a man comes for redresse of thee:For how can I helpe them, and not my selfe?Sink. I, heere's a Deere, whose skin's a Keepers Fee:This is the quondam King; Let's seize vpon him
Hen. Let me embrace the sower Aduersaries,For Wise men say, it is the wisest course
Hum. Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him
Sink. Forbeare a-while, wee'l heare a little more
Hen. My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid:And (as I heare) the great Commanding WarwickeI: thither gone, to craue the French Kings SisterTo wife for Edward. If this newes be true,Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but lost:For Warwicke is a subtle Orator:And Lewis a Prince soone wonne with mouing words:By this account then, Margaret may winne him,For she's a woman to be pittied much:Her sighes will make a batt'ry in his brest,Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart:The Tyger will be milde, whiles she doth mourne;And Nero will be tainted with remorse,To heare and see her plaints, her Brinish Teares.I, but shee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue:Shee on his left side, crauing ayde for Henrie;He on his right, asking a wife for Edward.Shee Weepes, and sayes, her Henry is depos'd:He Smiles, and sayes, his Edward is instaul'd;That she (poore Wretch) for greefe can speake no more:Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, smooths the Wrong,Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,And in conclusion winnes the King from her,With promise of his Sister, and what else,To strengthen and support King Edwards place.O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore soule)Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorne
Hum. Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens?King. More then I seeme, and lesse then I was born to:A man at least, for lesse I should not be:And men may talke of Kings, and why not I?Hum. I, but thou talk'st, as if thou wer't a King
King. Why so I am (in Minde) and that's enough
Hum. But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne?King. My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head:Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:Nor to be seene: my Crowne, is call'd Content,A Crowne it is, that sildome Kings enioy
Hum. Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content,Your Crowne Content, and you, must be contentedTo go along with vs. For (as we thinke)You are the king King Edward hath depos'd:And we his subiects, sworne in all Allegeance,Will apprehend you, as his Enemie
King. But did you neuer sweare, and breake an Oath
Hum. No, neuer such an Oath, nor will not now
King. Where did you dwell when I was K[ing]. of England?Hum. Heere in this Country, where we now remaine
King. I was annointed King at nine monthes old,My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings:And you were sworne true Subiects vnto me:And tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes?Sin. No, for we were Subiects, but while you wer kingKing. Why? Am I dead? Do I not breath a Man?Ah simple men, you know not what you sweare:Looke, as I blow this Feather from my Face,And as the Ayre blowes it to me againe,Obeying with my winde when I do blow,And yeelding to another, when it blowes,Commanded alwayes by the greater gust:Such is the lightnesse of you, common men.But do not breake your Oathes, for of that sinne,My milde intreatie shall not make you guiltie.Go where you will, the king shall be commanded,And be you kings, command, and Ile obey
Sinklo. We are true Subiects to the king,King Edward
King. So would you be againe to Henrie,If he were seated as king Edward is
Sinklo. We charge you in Gods name & the Kings,To go with vs vnto the Officers
King. In Gods name lead, your Kings name be obeyd,And what God will, that let your King performe.And what he will, I humbly yeeld vnto.
Exeunt.
Enter K[ing]. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray.
King. Brother of Gloster, at S[aint]. Albons fieldThis Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slaine,His Land then seiz'd on by the Conqueror,Her suit is now, to repossesse those Lands,Which wee in Iustice cannot well deny,Because in Quarrell of the House of Yorke,The worthy Gentleman did lose his Life
Rich. Your Highnesse shall doe well to graunt her suit:It were dishonor to deny it her
King. It were no lesse, but yet Ile make a pawse
Rich. Yea, is it so:I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt,Before the King will graunt her humble suit
Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepesthe winde?Rich. Silence
King. Widow, we will consider of your suit,And come some other time to know our minde
Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay:May it please your Highnesse to resolue me now,And what your pleasure is, shall satisfie me
Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands,And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you:Fight closer, or good faith you'le catch a Blow
Clarence. I feare her not, vnlesse she chance to fall
Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages
King. How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell me
Clarence. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her
Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two
Wid. Three, my most gracious Lord
Rich. You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him
King. 'Twere pittie they should lose their FathersLands
Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then
King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widoweswit
Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue,Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch
King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue yourChildren?Wid. I, full as dearely as I loue my selfe
King. And would you not doe much to doe themgood?Wid. To doe them good, I would sustayne someharme
King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe themgood
Wid. Therefore I came vnto your Maiestie
King. Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got
Wid. So shall you bind me to your Highnesse seruice
King. What seruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue them?Wid. What you command, that rests in me to doe
King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone
Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it
King. I, but thou canst doe what I meane to aske
Wid. Why then I will doe what your Grace commands
Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares theMarble
Clar. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt
Wid. Why stoppes my Lord? shall I not heare myTaske?King. An easie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King
Wid. That's soone perform'd, because I am a Subiect
King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue thee
Wid. I take my leaue with many thousand thankes
Rich. The Match is made, shee seales it with a Cursie
King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane
Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege
King. I, but I feare me in another sence.What Loue, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts
King. No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue
Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did
King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde
Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiueYour Highnesse aymes at, if I ayme aright
King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee
Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prison
King. Why then thou shalt not haue thy HusbandsLands
Wid. Why then mine Honestie shall be my Dower,For by that losse, I will not purchase them
King. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily
Wid. Herein your Highnesse wrongs both them & me:But mightie Lord, this merry inclinationAccords not with the sadnesse of my suit:Please you dismisse me, eyther with I, or no
King. I, if thou wilt say I to my request:No, if thou do'st say No to my demand
Wid. Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end
Rich. The Widow likes him not, shee knits herBrowes
Clarence. Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christendome
King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty,Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable,All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie,One way, or other, shee is for a King,And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene.Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene?Wid. 'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord:I am a subiect fit to ieast withall,But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne
King. Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee,I speake no more then what my Soule intends,And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue
Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto:I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,And yet too good to be your Concubine
King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene
Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should callyou Father
King. No more, then when my DaughtersCall thee Mother.Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children,And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing,To be the Father vnto many Sonnes:Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene
Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift
Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift
King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two hauehad
Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes verysad
King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrieher
Clarence. To who, my Lord?King. Why Clarence, to my selfe
Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least
Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts
Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes
King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both,Her suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands.Enter a Noble man
Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate
King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower:And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him,To question of his apprehension.Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.
Exeunt.
Manet Richard.
Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably:Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all,That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring,To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for:And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me,The lustfull Edwards Title buryed,Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward,And all the vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies,To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe:A cold premeditation for my purpose.Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie,Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie,And spyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread,Wishing his foot were equall with his eye,And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence,Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way:So doe I wish the Crowne, being so farre off,And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it,And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off,Flattering me with impossibilities:My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much,Vnlesse my Hand and Strength could equall them.Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard:What other Pleasure can the World affoord?Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe,And decke my Body in gay Ornaments,And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes.Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely,Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes.Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe:And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes,Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe,To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub,To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back,Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body;To shape my Legges of an vnequall size,To dis-proportion me in euery part:Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe,That carryes no impression like the Damme.And am I then a man to be belou'd?Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought.Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me,But to command, to check, to o're-beare such,As are of better Person then my selfe:Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne,And whiles I liue, t' account this World but Hell,Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head,Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne.And yet I know not how to get the Crowne,For many Liues stand betweene me and home:And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood,That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes,Seeking a way, and straying from the way,Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre,But toyling desperately to finde it out,Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne:And from that torment I will free my selfe,Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe.Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile,And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart,And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares,And frame my Face to all occasions.Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall,Ile slay more gazers then the Basiliske,Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor,Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could,And like a Synon, take another Troy.I can adde Colours to the Camelion,Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages,And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole.Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne?Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe.Enter.
Flourish. Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, hisAdmirall,call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward, Queene Margaret, and the Earle ofOxford.Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.
Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret,Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State,And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit
Marg. No, mightie King of France: now MargaretMust strike her sayle, and learne a while to serue,Where Kings command. I was (I must confesse)Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes:But now mischance hath trod my Title downe,And with dis-honor layd me on the ground,Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune,And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe
Lewis. Why say, faire Queene, whence springs thisdeepe despaire?Marg. From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares,And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares
Lewis. What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe,And sit thee by our side.
Seats her by him.
Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake,But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph,Ouer all mischance.Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe,It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe
Marg. Those gracious wordsReuiue my drooping thoughts,And giue my tongue-ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake.Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis,That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue,Is, of a King, become a banisht man,And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne;While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke,Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the SeatOf Englands true anoynted lawfull King.This is the cause that I, poore Margaret,With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire,Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde:And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done.Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe:Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis-led,Our Treasure seiz'd, our Souldiors put to flight,And (as thou seest) our selues in heauie plight
Lewis. Renowned Queene,With patience calme the Storme,While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off
Marg. The more wee stay, the stronger growes ourFoe
Lewis. The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee
Marg. O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.Enter Warwicke.
Lewis. What's hee approacheth boldly to our presence?Marg. Our Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatestFriend
Lewis. Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings theeto France?
Hee descends. Shee ariseth.
Marg. I now begins a second Storme to rise,For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde
Warw. From worthy Edward, King of Albion,My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend,I come (in Kindnesse, and vnfayned Loue)First, to doe greetings to thy Royall Person,And then to craue a League of Amitie:And lastly, to confirme that AmitieWith Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to grauntThat vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sister,To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage
Marg. If that goe forward, Henries hope is done
Warw. And gracious Madame,
Speaking to Bona.
In our Kings behalfe,I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor,Humbly to kisse your Hand, and with my TongueTo tell the passion of my Soueraignes Heart;Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares,Hath plac'd thy Beauties Image, and thy Vertue
Marg. King Lewis, and Lady Bona, heare me speake,Before you answer Warwicke. His demandSprings not from Edwards well-meant honest Loue,But from Deceit, bred by Necessitie:For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home,Vnlesse abroad they purchase great allyance?To proue him Tyrant, this reason may suffice,That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead,Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne.Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and MariageThou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis-honor:For though Vsurpers sway the rule a while,Yet Heau'ns are iust, and Time suppresseth Wrongs
Warw. Iniurious Margaret
Edw. And why not Queene?Warw. Because thy Father Henry did vsurpe,And thou no more art Prince, then shee is Queene
Oxf. Then Warwicke disanulls great Iohn of Gaunt,Which did subdue the greatest part of Spaine;And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,Whose Wisdome was a Mirror to the wisest:And after that wise Prince, Henry the Fift,Who by his Prowesse conquered all France:From these, our Henry lineally descends
Warw. Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse,You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath lostAll that, which Henry the Fift had gotten:Me thinkes these Peeres of France should smile at that.But for the rest: you tell a PedigreeOf threescore and two yeeres, a silly timeTo make prescription for a Kingdomes worth
Oxf. Why Warwicke, canst thou speak against thy Liege,Whom thou obeyd'st thirtie and six yeeres,And not bewray thy Treason with a Blush?Warw. Can Oxford, that did euer fence the right,Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree?For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King
Oxf. Call him my King, by whose iniurious doomeMy elder Brother, the Lord Aubrey VereWas done to death? and more then so, my Father,Euen in the downe-fall of his mellow'd yeeres,When Nature brought him to the doore of Death?No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme,This Arme vpholds the House of Lancaster
Warw. And I the House of Yorke
Lewis. Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside,While I vse further conference with Warwicke.
They stand aloofe.
Marg. Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes bewitchhim not
Lew. Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conscienceIs Edward your true King? for I were lothTo linke with him, that were not lawfull chosen
Warw. Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Honor
Lewis. But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye?Warw. The more, that Henry was vnfortunate
Lewis. Then further: all dissembling set aside,Tell me for truth, the measure of his LoueVnto our Sister Bona
War. Such it seemes,As may beseeme a Monarch like himselfe.My selfe haue often heard him say, and sweare,That this his Loue was an externall Plant,Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground,The Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne,Exempt from Enuy, but not from Disdaine,Vnlesse the Lady Bona quit his paine
Lewis. Now Sister, let vs heare your firme resolue
Bona. Your graunt, or your denyall, shall be mine.Yet I confesse, that often ere this day,
Speaks to War[wicke].
When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted,Mine eare hath tempted iudgement to desire
Lewis. Then Warwicke, thus:Our Sister shall be Edwards.And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne,Touching the Ioynture that your King must make,Which with her Dowrie shall be counter-poys'd:Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witnesse,That Bona shall be Wife to the English King
Pr.Edw. To Edward, but not to the English King
Marg. Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice,By this alliance to make void my suit:Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend
Lewis. And still is friend to him, and Margaret.But if your Title to the Crowne by weake,As may appeare by Edwards good successe:Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'dFrom giuing ayde, which late I promised.Yet shall you haue all kindnesse at my hand,That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld
Warw. Henry now liues in Scotland, at his ease;Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lose.And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene)You haue a Father able to maintaine you,And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France
Mar. Peace impudent, and shamelesse Warwicke,Proud setter vp, and puller downe of Kings,I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares(Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis beholdThy slye conueyance, and thy Lords false loue,
Post blowing a horne Within.
For both of you are Birds of selfe-same Feather
Lewes. Warwicke, this is some poste to vs, or thee.Enter the Poste.
Post. My Lord Ambassador,These Letters are for you.
Speakes to Warwick,
Sent from your Brother Marquesse Montague.These from our King, vnto your Maiesty.
To Lewis.
And Madam, these for you:
To Margaret
From whom, I know not.
They all reade their Letters.
Oxf. I like it well, that our faire Queene and MistrisSmiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his
Prince Ed. Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he werenetled. I hope, all's for the best
Lew. Warwicke, what are thy Newes?And yours, faire Queene
Mar. Mine such, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes
War. Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent
Lew. What? has your King married the Lady Grey?And now to sooth your Forgery, and his,Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience?Is this th' Alliance that he seekes with France?Dare he presume to scorne vs in this manner?Mar. I told your Maiesty as much before:This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honesty
War. King Lewis, I heere protest in sight of heauen,And by the hope I haue of heauenly blisse,That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards;No more my King, for he dishonors me,But most himselfe, if he could see his shame.Did I forget, that by the House of YorkeMy Father came vntimely to his death?Did I let passe th' abuse done to my Neece?Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne?Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right?And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame?Shame on himselfe, for my Desert is Honor.And to repaire my Honor lost for him,I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry.My Noble Queene, let former grudges passe,And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour:I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona,And replant Henry in his former state
Mar. Warwicke,These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue,And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults,And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend
War. So much his Friend, I, his Vnfained Friend,That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish vsWith some few Bands of chosen Soldiours,Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast,And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre.'Tis not his new-made Bride shall succour him.And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,Hee's very likely now to fall from him,For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor,Or then for strength and safety of our Country
Bona. Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd,But by thy helpe to this distressed Queene?Mar. Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry liue,Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire?Bona. My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one
War. And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours
Lew. And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets.Therefore, at last, I firmely am resolu'dYou shall haue ayde
Mar. Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once
Lew. Then Englands Messenger, returne in Poste,And tell false Edward, thy supposed King,That Lewis of France, is sending ouer MaskersTo reuell it with him, and his new Bride.Thou seest what's past, go feare thy King withall
Bona. Tell him, in hope hee'l proue a widower shortly,I weare the Willow Garland for his sake
Mar. Tell him, my mourning weeds are layde aside,And I am ready to put Armor on
War. Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,And therefore Ile vn-Crowne him, er't be long.There's thy reward, be gone.
Exit Post.
Lew. But Warwicke,Thou and Oxford, with fiue thousand menShall crosse the Seas, and bid false Edward battaile:And as occasion serues, this Noble QueenAnd Prince, shall follow with a fresh Supply.Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt:What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty?War. This shall assure my constant Loyalty,That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree,Ile ioyne mine eldest daughter, and my Ioy,To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands
Mar. Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motion.Sonne Edward, she is Faire and Vertuous,Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke,And with thy hand, thy faith irreuocable,That onely Warwickes daughter shall be thine
Prin.Ed. Yes, I accept her, for she well deserues it,And heere to pledge my Vow, I giue my hand.
He giues his hand to Warw[icke].
Lew. Why stay we now? These soldiers shalbe leuied,And thou Lord Bourbon, our High AdmirallShall waft them ouer with our Royall Fleete.I long till Edward fall by Warres mischance,For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.
Exeunt. Manet Warwicke.
War. I came from Edward as Ambassador,But I returne his sworne and mortall Foe:Matter of Marriage was the charge he gaue me,But dreadfull Warre shall answer his demand.Had he none else to make a stale but me?Then none but I, shall turne his Iest to Sorrow.I was the Cheefe that rais'd him to the Crowne,And Ile be Cheefe to bring him downe againe:Not that I pitty Henries misery,But seeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery.Enter.
Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerset, and Mountague.
Rich. Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke youOf this new Marriage with the Lady Gray?Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice?Cla. Alas, you know, tis farre from hence to France,How could he stay till Warwicke made returne?Som. My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes theKing.
Flourish. Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Stafford, Hastings: foure stand on one side, and foure on the other.
Rich. And his well-chosen Bride
Clarence. I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke
King. Now Brother of Clarence,How like you our Choyce,That you stand pensiue, as halfe malecontent?Clarence. As well as Lewis of France,Or the Earle of Warwicke,Which are so weake of courage, and in iudgement,That they'le take no offence at our abuse
King. Suppose they take offence without a cause:They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward,Your King and Warwickes, and must haue my will
Rich. And shall haue your will, because our King:Yet hastie Marriage seldome proueth well
King. Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too?Rich. Not I: no:God forbid, that I should wish them seuer'd,Whom God hath ioyn'd together:I, and 'twere pittie, to sunder them,That yoake so well together
King. Setting your skornes, and your mislike aside,Tell me some reason, why the Lady GreyShould not become my Wife, and Englands Queene?And you too, Somerset, and Mountague,Speake freely what you thinke
Clarence. Then this is mine opinion:That King Lewis becomes your Enemie,For mocking him about the MarriageOf the Lady Bona
Rich. And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge,Is now dis-honored by this new Marriage
King. What, if both Lewis and Warwick be appeas'd,By such inuention as I can deuise?Mount. Yet, to haue ioyn'd with France in such alliance,Would more haue strength'ned this our Commonwealth'Gainst forraine stormes, then any home-bred Marriage
Hast. Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it selfe,England is safe, if true within it selfe?Mount. But the safer, when 'tis back'd with France
Hast. 'Tis better vsing France, then trusting France:Let vs be back'd with God, and with the Seas,Which he hath giu'n for fence impregnable,And with their helpes, onely defend our selues:In them, and in our selues, our safetie lyes
Clar. For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deseruesTo haue the Heire of the Lord Hungerford
King. I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt,And for this once, my Will shall stand for Law
Rich. And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well,To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord ScalesVnto the Brother of your louing Bride;Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence:But in your Bride you burie Brotherhood
Clar. Or else you would not haue bestow'd the HeireOf the Lord Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne,And leaue your Brothers to goe speede elsewhere
King. Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a WifeThat thou art malecontent? I will prouide thee
Clarence. In chusing for your selfe,You shew'd your iudgement:Which being shallow, you shall giue me leaueTo play the Broker in mine owne behalfe;And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you
King. Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King,And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will
Lady Grey. My Lords, before it pleas'd his MaiestieTo rayse my State to Title of a Queene,Doe me but right, and you must all confesse,That I was not ignoble of Descent,And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune.But as this Title honors me and mine,So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with sorrow
King. My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes:What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee,So long as Edward is thy constant friend,And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey?Nay, whom they shall obey, and loue thee too,Vnlesse they seeke for hatred at my hands:Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe,And they shall feele the vengeance of my wrath
Rich. I heare, yet say not much, but thinke the more.Enter a Poste
King. Now Messenger, what Letters, or what Newesfrom France?Post. My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words,But such, as I (without your speciall pardon)Dare not relate
King. Goe too, wee pardon thee:Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words,As neere as thou canst guesse them.What answer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters?Post. At my depart, these were his very words:Goe tell false Edward, the supposed King,That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers,To reuell it with him, and his new Bride
King. Is Lewis so braue? belike he thinkes me Henry.But what said Lady Bona to my Marriage?Post. These were her words, vtt'red with mild disdaine:Tell him, in hope hee'le proue a Widower shortly,Ile weare the Willow Garland for his sake
King. I blame not her; she could say little lesse:She had the wrong. But what said Henries Queene?For I haue heard, that she was there in place
Post. Tell him (quoth she)My mourning Weedes are done,And I am readie to put Armour on
King. Belike she minds to play the Amazon.But what said Warwicke to these iniuries?Post. He, more incens'd against your Maiestie,Then all the rest, discharg'd me with these words:Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long
King. Ha? durst the Traytor breath out so prowd words?Well, I will arme me, being thus fore-warn'd:They shall haue Warres, and pay for their presumption.But say, is Warwicke friends with Margaret?Post. I, gracious Soueraigne,They are so link'd in friendship,That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwicks Daughter
Clarence. Belike, the elder;Clarence will haue the younger.Now Brother King farewell, and sit you fast,For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter,That though I want a Kingdome, yet in MarriageI may not proue inferior to your selfe.You that loue me, and Warwicke, follow me.
Exit Clarence, and Somerset followes.
Rich. Not I:My thoughts ayme at a further matter:I stay not for the loue of Edward, but the Crowne
King. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwicke?Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen:And haste is needfull in this desp'rate case.Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalfeGoe leuie men, and make prepare for Warre;They are alreadie, or quickly will be landed:My selfe in person will straight follow you.
Exeunt. Pembrooke and Stafford.
But ere I goe, Hastings and MountagueResolue my doubt: you twaine, of all the rest,Are neere to Warwicke, by bloud, and by allyance:Tell me, if you loue Warwicke more then me;If it be so, then both depart to him:I rather wish you foes, then hollow friends.But if you minde to hold your true obedience,Giue me assurance with some friendly Vow,That I may neuer haue you in suspect
Mount. So God helpe Mountague, as hee prouestrue
Hast. And Hastings, as hee fauours Edwards cause
King. Now, Brother Richard, will you stand by vs?Rich. I, in despight of all that shall withstand you
King. Why so: then am I sure of Victorie.Now therefore let vs hence, and lose no howre,Till wee meet Warwicke, with his forreine powre.
Exeunt.
Enter Warwicke and Oxford in England, with French Souldiors.
Warw. Trust me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well,The common people by numbers swarme to vs.Enter Clarence and Somerset.
But see where Somerset and Clarence comes:Speake suddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends?Clar. Feare not that, my Lord
Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke,And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardize,To rest mistrustfull, where a Noble HeartHath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue;Else might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother,Were but a fained friend to our proceedings:But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine.And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture,Thy Brother being carelessely encamp'd,His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about,And but attended by a simple Guard,Wee may surprize and take him at our pleasure,Our Scouts haue found the aduenture very easie:That as Vlysses, and stout Diomede,With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents,And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds;So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle,At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard,And seize himselfe: I say not, slaughter him,For I intend but onely to surprize him.You that will follow me to this attempt,Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.
They all cry, Henry.
Why then, let's on our way in silent sort,For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.
Exeunt.
Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.
1.Watch. Come on my Masters, each man take his stand,The King by this, is set him downe to sleepe
2.Watch. What, will he not to Bed?1.Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a solemne Vow,Neuer to lye and take his naturall Rest,Till Warwicke, or himselfe, be quite supprest
2.Watch. To morrow then belike shall be the day,If Warwicke be so neere as men report
3.Watch. But say, I pray, what Noble man is that,That with the King here resteth in his Tent?1.Watch. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the Kings chiefestfriend
3.Watch. O, is it so? but why commands the King,That his chiefe followers lodge in Townes about him,While he himselfe keepes in the cold field?2.Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous
3.Watch. I, but giue me worship, and quietnesse,I like it better then a dangerous honor.If Warwicke knew in what estate he stands,'Tis to be doubted if he would waken him
1.Watch. Vnlesse our Halberds did shut vp his passage
2.Watch. I: wherefore else guard we his Royall Tent, But to defend his Person from Night-foes? Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, and French Souldiors, silent all.
Warw. This is his Tent, and see where stand his Guard:Courage my Masters: Honor now, or neuer:But follow me, and Edward shall be ours
1.Watch. Who goes there?2.Watch. Stay, or thou dyest.
Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke, and set vpontheGuard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme, Warwicke and the restfollowing them.
The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding. Enter Warwicke, Somerset, and the rest, bringing the King out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire: Richard and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage
Som. What are they that flye there?Warw. Richard and Hastings: let them goe, heere isthe Duke
K.Edw. The Duke?Why Warwicke, when wee parted,Thou call'dst me King
Warw. I, but the case is alter'd.When you disgrac'd me in my Embassade,Then I degraded you from being King,And come now to create you Duke of Yorke.Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome,That know not how to vse Embassadors,Nor how to be contented with one Wife,Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly,Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare,Nor how to shrowd your selfe from Enemies?K.Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,Art thou here too?Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe.Yet Warwicke, in despight of all mischance,Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices,Edward will alwayes beare himselfe as King:Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my State,My minde exceedes the compasse of her Wheele
Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,
Takes off his Crowne.
But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne,And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow.My Lord of Somerset, at my request,See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'dVnto my Brother Arch-Bishop of Yorke:When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes,Ile follow you, and tell what answerLewis and the Lady Bona send to him.Now for a-while farewell good Duke of Yorke.
They leade him out forcibly.
K.Ed. What Fates impose, that men must needs abide;It boots not to resist both winde and tide.
Exeunt.
Oxf. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do,But march to London with our Soldiers?War. I, that's the first thing that we haue to do,To free King Henry from imprisonment,And see him seated in the Regall Throne.Enter.
Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.
Riu. Madam, what makes you in this sodain change?Gray. Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learneWhat late misfortune is befalne King Edward?Riu. What losse of some pitcht battellAgainst Warwicke?Gray. No, but the losse of his owne Royall person
Riu. Then is my Soueraigne slaine?Gray. I almost slaine, for he is taken prisoner,Either betrayd by falshood of his Guard,Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares:And as I further haue to vnderstand,Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke,Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe
Riu. These Newes I must confesse are full of greefe,Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may,Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day
Gray. Till then, faire hope must hinder liues decay:And I the rather waine me from dispaireFor loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe:This is it that makes me bridle passion,And beare with Mildnesse my misfortunes crosse:I, I, for this I draw in many a teare,And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighes,Least with my sighes or teares, I blast or drowneKing Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne
Riu. But Madam,Where is Warwicke then become?Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London,To set the Crowne once more on Henries head,Guesse thou the rest, King Edwards Friends must downe.But to preuent the Tyrants violence,(For trust not him that hath once broken Faith)Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary,To saue (at least) the heire of Edwards right:There shall I rest secure from force and fraud:Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye,If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.
Exeunt.
Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley.
Rich. Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir William StanleyLeaue off to wonder why I drew you hither,Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke.Thus stand the case: you know our King, my Brother,Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose handsHe hath good vsage, and great liberty,And often but attended with weake guard,Come hunting this way to disport himselfe.I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes,That if about this houre he make this way,Vnder the colour of his vsuall game,He shall heere finde his Friends with Horse and Men,To set him free from his Captiuitie.Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman with him.
Huntsman. This way my Lord,For this way lies the Game
King Edw. Nay this way man,See where the Huntsmen stand.Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest,Stand you thus close to steale the Bishops Deere?Rich. Brother, the time and case, requireth hast,Your horse stands ready at the Parke-corner
King Ed. But whether shall we then?Hast. To Lyn my Lord,And shipt from thence to Flanders
Rich. Wel guest beleeue me, for that was my meaningK.Ed. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardnesse
Rich. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talke
K.Ed. Huntsman, what say'st thou?Wilt thou go along?Hunts. Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd
Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo
K.Ed. Bishop farwell,Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,And pray that I may re-possesse the Crowne.
Exeunt.
Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke,Somerset, youngHenry, Oxford, Mountague, and Lieutenant.
K.Hen. M[aster]. Lieutenant, now that God and FriendsHaue shaken Edward from the Regall seate,And turn'd my captiue state to libertie,My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes,At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?Lieu. Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rainsBut, if an humble prayer may preuaile,I then craue pardon of your Maiestie
K.Hen. For what, Lieutenant? For well vsing me?Nay, be thou sure, Ile well requite thy kindnesse.For that it made my imprisonment, a pleasure:I, such a pleasure, as incaged BirdsConceiue; when after many moody Thoughts,At last, by Notes of Houshold harmonie,They quite forget their losse of Libertie.But Warwicke, after God, thou set'st me free,And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee,He was the Author, thou the Instrument.Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight,By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me,And that the people of this blessed LandMay not be punisht with my thwarting starres,Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne,I here resigne my Gouernment to thee,For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds
Warw. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous,And now may seeme as wise as vertuous,By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice,For few men rightly temper with the Starres:Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace,For chusing me, when Clarence is in place
Clar. No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the sway,To whom the Heau'ns in thy Natiuitie,Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne,As likely to be blest in Peace and Warre:And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent
Warw. And I chuse Clarence onely for Protector
King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands:Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts,That no dissention hinder Gouernment:I make you both Protectors of this Land,While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life,And in deuotion spend my latter dayes,To sinnes rebuke, and my Creators prayse
Warw. What answeres Clarence to his Soueraigneswill?Clar. That he consents, if Warwicke yeeld consent,For on thy fortune I repose my selfe
Warw. Why then, though loth, yet must I be content:Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadowTo Henries Body, and supply his place;I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment,While he enioyes the Honor, and his ease.And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor,And all his Lands and Goods confiscate
Clar. What else? and that Succession be determined
Warw. I, therein Clarence shall not want his part
King. But with the first, of all your chiefe affaires,Let me entreat (for I command no more)That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward,Be sent for, to returne from France with speed:For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare,My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd
Clar. It shall bee done, my Soueraigne, with allspeede
King. My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that,Of whom you seeme to haue so tender care?Somers. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Richmond
King. Come hither, Englands Hope:
Layes his Hand on his Head.
If secret Powers suggest but truthTo my diuining thoughts,This prettie Lad will proue our Countries blisse.His Lookes are full of peacefull Maiestie,His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne,His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfeLikely in time to blesse a Regall Throne:Make much of him, my Lords; for this is heeMust helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee.Enter a Poste.
Warw. What newes, my friend?Poste. That Edward is escaped from your Brother,And fled (as hee heares since) to Burgundie
Warw. Vnsauorie newes: but how made he escape?Poste. He was conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloster,And the Lord Hastings, who attended himIn secret ambush, on the Forrest side,And from the Bishops Huntsmen rescu'd him:For Hunting was his dayly Exercise
Warw. My Brother was too carelesse of his charge.But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouideA salue for any sore, that may betide.
Exeunt.
Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.
Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards:For doubtlesse, Burgundie will yeeld him helpe,And we shall haue more Warres befor't be long.As Henries late presaging ProphecieDid glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond:So doth my heart mis-giue me, in these Conflicts,What may befall him, to his harme and ours.Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst,Forthwith wee'le send him hence to Brittanie,Till stormes be past of Ciuill Enmitie
Oxf. I: for if Edward re-possesse the Crowne,'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall downe
Som. It shall be so: he shall to Brittanie.Come therefore, let's about it speedily.
Exeunt.
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Souldiers.
Edw. Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest,Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends,And sayes, that once more I shall enterchangeMy wained state, for Henries Regall Crowne.Well haue we pass'd, and now re-pass'd the Seas,And brought desired helpe from Burgundie.What then remaines, we being thus arriu'dFrom Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke,But that we enter, as into our Dukedome?Rich. The Gates made fast?Brother, I like not this.For many men that stumble at the Threshold,Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within
Edw. Tush man, aboadments must not now affright vs:By faire or foule meanes we must enter in,For hither will our friends repaire to vs
Hast. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to summonthem.Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke, and his Brethren.
Maior. My Lords,We were fore-warned of your comming,And shut the Gates, for safetie of our selues;For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry
Edw. But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King,Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of Yorke
Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for nolesse
Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome,As being well content with that alone
Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose,Hee'le soone finde meanes to make the Body follow
Hast. Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt?Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends
Maior. I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.
He descends.
Rich. A wise stout Captaine, and soone perswaded
Hast. The good old man would faine that all were wel,So 'twere not long of him: but being entred,I doubt not I, but we shall soone perswadeBoth him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason.Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.
Edw. So, Master Maior: these Gates must not be shut,But in the Night, or in the time of Warre.What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,
Takes his Keyes.