William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (61 page)
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Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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I cannot weep, for all my body’s moisture
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart;
Nor can my tongue unload my heart’s great burden,
For selfsame wind that I should speak withal
Is kindling coals that fires all my breast,
And burns me up with flames that tears would quench.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief;
Tears, then, for babes—blows and revenge for me!
Richard, I bear thy name; I’ll venge thy death
Or die renowned by attempting it.
Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart;
Nor can my tongue unload my heart’s great burden,
For selfsame wind that I should speak withal
Is kindling coals that fires all my breast,
And burns me up with flames that tears would quench.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief;
Tears, then, for babes—blows and revenge for me!
Richard, I bear thy name; I’ll venge thy death
Or die renowned by attempting it.
EDWARD
His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee,
His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
His dukedom and his chair with me is left.
RICHARD
Nay, if thou be that princely eagle’s bird,
Show thy descent by gazing ‘gainst the sun:
For ‘chair and dukedom’, ‘throne and kingdom’ say—
Either that is thine or else thou wert not his.
Show thy descent by gazing ‘gainst the sun:
For ‘chair and dukedom’, ‘throne and kingdom’ say—
Either that is thine or else thou wert not his.
March. Enter the Earl of Warwick and the Marquis of Montague
⌈
with drummers, an ensign, and soldiers
⌉
WARWICK
How now, fair lords? What fare? What news abroad?
RICHARD
Great lord of Warwick, if we should recount
Our baleful news, and at each word’s deliverance
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,
The words would add more anguish than the wounds.
O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain.
Our baleful news, and at each word’s deliverance
Stab poniards in our flesh till all were told,
The words would add more anguish than the wounds.
O valiant lord, the Duke of York is slain.
EDWARD
O Warwick, Warwick! That Plantagenet,
Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption,
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
Which held thee dearly as his soul’s redemption,
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.
WARWICK
Ten days ago I drowned these news in tears.
And now, to add more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things sith then befall’n.
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp,
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
Were brought me of your loss and his depart.
I then in London, keeper of the King,
Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends,
And, very well appointed as I thought,
Marched toward Saint Albans to intercept the Queen,
Bearing the King in my behalf along—
For by my scouts I was advertised
That she was coming with a full intent
To dash our late decree in Parliament
Touching King Henry’s oath and your succession.
Short tale to make, we at Saint Albans met,
Our battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought;
But whether ‘twas the coldness of the King,
Who looked full gently on his warlike queen,
That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen,
Or whether ’twas report of her success,
Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigour—
Who thunders to his captains blood and death—
I cannot judge; but, to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
Our soldiers’, like the night-owl’s lazy flight,
Or like an idle thresher with a flail,
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
I cheered them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay, and great rewards.
But all in vain. They had no heart to fight,
And we in them no hope to win the day.
So that we fled—the King unto the Queen,
Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself
In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you.
For in the Marches here we heard you were,
Making another head to fight again.
And now, to add more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things sith then befall’n.
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
Where your brave father breathed his latest gasp,
Tidings, as swiftly as the posts could run,
Were brought me of your loss and his depart.
I then in London, keeper of the King,
Mustered my soldiers, gathered flocks of friends,
And, very well appointed as I thought,
Marched toward Saint Albans to intercept the Queen,
Bearing the King in my behalf along—
For by my scouts I was advertised
That she was coming with a full intent
To dash our late decree in Parliament
Touching King Henry’s oath and your succession.
Short tale to make, we at Saint Albans met,
Our battles joined, and both sides fiercely fought;
But whether ‘twas the coldness of the King,
Who looked full gently on his warlike queen,
That robbed my soldiers of their heated spleen,
Or whether ’twas report of her success,
Or more than common fear of Clifford’s rigour—
Who thunders to his captains blood and death—
I cannot judge; but, to conclude with truth,
Their weapons like to lightning came and went;
Our soldiers’, like the night-owl’s lazy flight,
Or like an idle thresher with a flail,
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
I cheered them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay, and great rewards.
But all in vain. They had no heart to fight,
And we in them no hope to win the day.
So that we fled—the King unto the Queen,
Lord George your brother, Norfolk, and myself
In haste, post-haste, are come to join with you.
For in the Marches here we heard you were,
Making another head to fight again.
EDWARD
Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick?
And when came George from Burgundy to England?
And when came George from Burgundy to England?
WARWICK
Some six miles off the Duke is with his soldiers;
And for your brother—he was lately sent
From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy,
With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
And for your brother—he was lately sent
From your kind aunt, Duchess of Burgundy,
With aid of soldiers to this needful war.
RICHARD
‘Twas odd belike when valiant Warwick fled.
Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne’er till now his scandal of retire.
Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit,
But ne’er till now his scandal of retire.
WARWICK
Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear—
For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine
Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head
And wring the aweful sceptre from his fist,
Were he as famous and as bold in war
As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine
Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry’s head
And wring the aweful sceptre from his fist,
Were he as famous and as bold in war
As he is famed for mildness, peace, and prayer.
RICHARD
I know it well, Lord Warwick—blame me not.
‘Tis love I bear thy glories make me speak.
But in this troublous time what’s to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
Numb’ring our Ave-Maries with our beads?
Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?
If for the last, say ‘ay’, and to it, lords.
‘Tis love I bear thy glories make me speak.
But in this troublous time what’s to be done?
Shall we go throw away our coats of steel,
And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns,
Numb’ring our Ave-Maries with our beads?
Or shall we on the helmets of our foes
Tell our devotion with revengeful arms?
If for the last, say ‘ay’, and to it, lords.
WARWICK
Why, therefore Warwick came to seek you out,
And therefore comes my brother Montague.
Attend me, lords. The proud insulting Queen,
With Clifford and the haught Northumberland,
And of their feather many more proud birds,
Have wrought the easy-melting King like wax.
(
To Edward
) He swore consent to your succession,
His oath enrolled in the Parliament.
And now to London all the crew are gone,
To frustrate both his oath and what beside
May make against the house of Lancaster.
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong.
Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself,
With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March,
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,
Will but amount to five-and-twenty thousand,
Why,
via,
to London will we march,
And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
And once again cry ‘Charge upon. our foes—
But never once again turn back and fly.
And therefore comes my brother Montague.
Attend me, lords. The proud insulting Queen,
With Clifford and the haught Northumberland,
And of their feather many more proud birds,
Have wrought the easy-melting King like wax.
(
To Edward
) He swore consent to your succession,
His oath enrolled in the Parliament.
And now to London all the crew are gone,
To frustrate both his oath and what beside
May make against the house of Lancaster.
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong.
Now, if the help of Norfolk and myself,
With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March,
Amongst the loving Welshmen canst procure,
Will but amount to five-and-twenty thousand,
Why,
via,
to London will we march,
And once again bestride our foaming steeds,
And once again cry ‘Charge upon. our foes—
But never once again turn back and fly.
RICHARD
Ay, now methinks I hear great Warwick speak.
Ne‘er may he live to see a sunshine day
That cries ‘retire if Warwick bid him stay.
Ne‘er may he live to see a sunshine day
That cries ‘retire if Warwick bid him stay.
EDWARD
Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean,
And when thou fail’st—as God forbid the hour—
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend I
And when thou fail’st—as God forbid the hour—
Must Edward fall, which peril heaven forfend I
WARWICK
No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York;
The next degree is England’s royal throne—
For King of England shalt thou be proclaimed
In every borough as we pass along,
And he that throws not up his cap for joy,
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague—
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,
But sound the trumpets and about our task.
The next degree is England’s royal throne—
For King of England shalt thou be proclaimed
In every borough as we pass along,
And he that throws not up his cap for joy,
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague—
Stay we no longer dreaming of renown,
But sound the trumpets and about our task.
RICHARD
Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as steel,
As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,
I come to pierce it or to give thee mine.
As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,
I come to pierce it or to give thee mine.
EDWARD
Then strike up drums—God and Saint George for us!
Enter a Messenger
WARWICK How now? What news?
MESSENGER
The Duke of Norfolk sends you word by me
The Queen is coming with a puissant host,
And craves your company for speedy counsel.
The Queen is coming with a puissant host,
And craves your company for speedy counsel.
WARWICK
Why then it sorts. Brave warriors, let’s away.
⌈
March.
⌉
Exeunt
⌈
York’s head is thrust out, above
⌉
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of Northumberland, and young Prince Edward, with a drummer and trumpeters
QUEEN MARGARET
Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York.
Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy
That sought to be encompassed with your crown.
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?
Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy
That sought to be encompassed with your crown.
Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord?
KING HENRY
Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck.
To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
Withhold revenge, dear God—’tis not my fault,
Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
To see this sight, it irks my very soul.
Withhold revenge, dear God—’tis not my fault,
Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow.
CLIFFORD
My gracious liege, this too much lenity
And harmful pity must be laid aside.
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?
Not his that spoils her young before her face.
Who scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting?
Not he that sets his foot upon her back.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on,
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows.
He, but a duke, would have his son a king,
And raise his issue like a loving sire;
Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
Which argued thee a most unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young,
And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes,
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them, even with those wings
Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,
Make war with him that climbed unto their nest,
Offering their own lives in their young’s defence?
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent!
Were it not pity that this goodly boy
Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault,
And long hereafter say unto his child
‘What my great-grandfather and grandsire got
My careless father fondly gave away’?
Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy,
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart
To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.
And harmful pity must be laid aside.
To whom do lions cast their gentle looks?
Not to the beast that would usurp their den.
Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick?
Not his that spoils her young before her face.
Who scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting?
Not he that sets his foot upon her back.
The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on,
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown,
Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows.
He, but a duke, would have his son a king,
And raise his issue like a loving sire;
Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son,
Didst yield consent to disinherit him,
Which argued thee a most unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young,
And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes,
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not seen them, even with those wings
Which sometime they have used with fearful flight,
Make war with him that climbed unto their nest,
Offering their own lives in their young’s defence?
For shame, my liege, make them your precedent!
Were it not pity that this goodly boy
Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault,
And long hereafter say unto his child
‘What my great-grandfather and grandsire got
My careless father fondly gave away’?
Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy,
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart
To hold thine own and leave thine own with him.
KING HENRY
Full well hath Clifford played the orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force.
But, Clifford, tell me—didst thou never hear
That things ill got had ever bad success?
And happy always was it for that son
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?
I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind,
And would my father had left me no more.
For all the rest is held at such a rate
As brings a thousandfold more care to keep
Than in possession any jot of pleasure.
Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here.
Inferring arguments of mighty force.
But, Clifford, tell me—didst thou never hear
That things ill got had ever bad success?
And happy always was it for that son
Whose father for his hoarding went to hell?
I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind,
And would my father had left me no more.
For all the rest is held at such a rate
As brings a thousandfold more care to keep
Than in possession any jot of pleasure.
Ah, cousin York, would thy best friends did know
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here.
QUEEN MARGARET
My lord, cheer up your spirits—our foes are nigh,
And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
You promised knighthood to our forward son.
Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently.
Edward, kneel down.
And this soft courage makes your followers faint.
You promised knighthood to our forward son.
Unsheathe your sword and dub him presently.
Edward, kneel down.
Prince Edward kneels
KING HENRY
Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight—
And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right.
And learn this lesson: draw thy sword in right.
PRINCE EDWARD
(rising)
(rising)
My gracious father, by your kingly leave,
I’ll draw it as apparent to the crown,
And in that quarrel use it to the death.
I’ll draw it as apparent to the crown,
And in that quarrel use it to the death.
CLIFFORD
Why, that is spoken like a toward prince.
Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER
Royal commanders, be in readiness—
For with a band of thirty thousand men
Comes Warwick backing of the Duke of York;
And in the towns, as they do march along,
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him.
Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
For with a band of thirty thousand men
Comes Warwick backing of the Duke of York;
And in the towns, as they do march along,
Proclaims him king, and many fly to him.
Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.
CLIFFORD (
to King Henry
)
to King Henry
)
I would your highness would depart the field—
The Queen hath best success when you are absent.
The Queen hath best success when you are absent.
QUEEN MARGARET (
to King Henry
)
to King Henry
)
Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune.
KING HENRY
Why, that’s my fortune too—therefore I’ll stay.
NORTHUMBERLAND
Be it with resolution then to fight.
PRINCE EDWARD (to King Henry)
My royal father, cheer these noble lords
And hearten those that fight in your defence.
Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry ‘Saint George!’
And hearten those that fight in your defence.
Unsheathe your sword, good father; cry ‘Saint George!’
March. Enter Edward Duke of York, the Earl of
Warwick, Richard, George, the Duke of Norfolk, the
Marquis of Montague, and soldiers
EDWARD
Now, perjured Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace,
And set thy diadem upon my head—
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
And set thy diadem upon my head—
Or bide the mortal fortune of the field?
QUEEN MARGARET
Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms
Before thy sovereign and thy lawful king?
EDWARD
I am his king, and he should bow his knee.
I was adopted heir by his consent.
I was adopted heir by his consent.
GEORGE (
to Queen Margaret
)
to Queen Margaret
)
Since when his oath is broke—for, as I hear,
You that are king, though he do wear the crown,
Have caused him by new act of Parliament
To blot our brother out, and put his own son in.
You that are king, though he do wear the crown,
Have caused him by new act of Parliament
To blot our brother out, and put his own son in.
CLIFFORD And reason too—
Who should succeed the father but the son?
RICHARD
Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak!
CLIFFORD
Ay, crookback, here I stand to answer thee,
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
Or any he the proudest of thy sort.
RICHARD
’Twas you that killed young Rutland, was it not?
CLIFFORD
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