William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition (59 page)
Read William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition Online
Authors: William Shakespeare
Tags: #Drama, #Literary Criticism, #Shakespeare
BOOK: William Shakespeare: The Complete Works 2nd Edition
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PRINCE EDWARD
Father, you cannot disinherit me.
If you be king, why should not I succeed?
If you be king, why should not I succeed?
KING HENRY
Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son—
The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.
The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.
QUEEN MARGARET
Enforced thee? Art thou king, and wilt be forced?
I shame to hear thee speak! Ah, timorous wretch,
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me,
And giv’n unto the house of York such head
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown—
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre
And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is Chancellor and the Lord of Calais;
Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas;
The Duke is made Protector of the Realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds
The trembling lamb environèd with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a seely woman,
The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honour.
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of Parliament be repealed
Whereby my son is disinherited.
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread—
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace
And the utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee. (
To Prince Edward
) Come, son,
let’s away.
Our army is ready—come, we’ll after them.
I shame to hear thee speak! Ah, timorous wretch,
Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me,
And giv’n unto the house of York such head
As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.
To entail him and his heirs unto the crown—
What is it, but to make thy sepulchre
And creep into it far before thy time?
Warwick is Chancellor and the Lord of Calais;
Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas;
The Duke is made Protector of the Realm;
And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds
The trembling lamb environèd with wolves.
Had I been there, which am a seely woman,
The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes
Before I would have granted to that act.
But thou preferr’st thy life before thine honour.
And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself
Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,
Until that act of Parliament be repealed
Whereby my son is disinherited.
The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread—
And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace
And the utter ruin of the house of York.
Thus do I leave thee. (
To Prince Edward
) Come, son,
let’s away.
Our army is ready—come, we’ll after them.
KING HENRY
Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.
QUEEN MARGARET
Thou hast spoke too much already.
⌈
To Prince Edward
⌉ Get thee gone.
⌈
To Prince Edward
⌉ Get thee gone.
KING HENRY
Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?
QUEEN MARGARET
Ay, to be murdered by his enemies.
PRINCE EDWARD (
to King Henry
)
to King Henry
)
When I return with victory from the field,
I’ll see your grace. Till then, I’ll follow her.
QUEEN MARGARET
Come, son, away—we may not linger thus.
Exit with Prince Edward
KING HENRY
Poor Queen, how love to me and to her son
Hath made her break out into terms of rage.
Revenged may she be on that hateful Duke,
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will coast my crown, and, like an empty eagle,
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son.
The loss of those three lords torments my heart.
I’ll write unto them and entreat them fair.
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
Hath made her break out into terms of rage.
Revenged may she be on that hateful Duke,
Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,
Will coast my crown, and, like an empty eagle,
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son.
The loss of those three lords torments my heart.
I’ll write unto them and entreat them fair.
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
EXETER
And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
Flourish. Exeunt
Enter Richard, Edward Earl of March, and the Marquis of Montague
RICHARD
Brother, though I be youngest give me leave.
EDWARD
No, I can better play the orator.
MONTAGUE
But I have reasons strong and forcible.
Enter the Duke of York
YORK
Why, how now, sons and brother—at a strife?
What is your quarrel? How began it first?
What is your quarrel? How began it first?
EDWARD
No quarrel, but a slight contention.
YORK About what?
RICHARD
About that which concerns your grace and us—
The crown of England, father, which is yours.
The crown of England, father, which is yours.
YORK
Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead.
RICHARD
Your right depends not on his life or death.
EDWARD
Now you are heir—therefore enjoy it now.
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe,
It will outrun you, father, in the end.
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe,
It will outrun you, father, in the end.
YORK
I took an oath that he should quietly reign.
EDWARD
But for a kingdom any oath may be broken.
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
RICHARD (
to York
)
to York
)
No—God forbid your grace should be forsworn.
YORK
I shall be if I claim by open war.
RICHARD
I’ll prove the contrary, if you’ll hear me speak.
YORK
Thou canst not, son—it is impossible.
RICHARD
An oath is of no moment being not took
Before a true and lawful magistrate
That hath authority over him that swears.
Henry had none, but did usurp the place.
Then, seeing ’twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore to arms—and, father, do but think
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
Within whose circuit is Elysium
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest
Until the white rose that I wear be dyed
Even in the luke-warm blood of Henry’s heart.
Before a true and lawful magistrate
That hath authority over him that swears.
Henry had none, but did usurp the place.
Then, seeing ’twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
Therefore to arms—and, father, do but think
How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
Within whose circuit is Elysium
And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest
Until the white rose that I wear be dyed
Even in the luke-warm blood of Henry’s heart.
YORK
Richard, enough! I will be king or die.
(
To Montague
) Brother, thou shalt to London presently
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.
Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk
And tell him privily of our intent.
You, Edward, shall to Edmund Brook, Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise.
In them I trust, for they are soldiers
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
While you are thus employed, what resteth more
But that I seek occasion how to rise,
And yet the King not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster.
Enter a Messenger
But stay, what news? Why com’st thou in such post?
(
To Montague
) Brother, thou shalt to London presently
And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.
Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk
And tell him privily of our intent.
You, Edward, shall to Edmund Brook, Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise.
In them I trust, for they are soldiers
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
While you are thus employed, what resteth more
But that I seek occasion how to rise,
And yet the King not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster.
Enter a Messenger
But stay, what news? Why com’st thou in such post?
MESSENGER
The Queen, with all the northern earls and lords,
Intend here to besiege you in your castle.
She is hard by with twenty thousand men,
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
Intend here to besiege you in your castle.
She is hard by with twenty thousand men,
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
YORK
Ay, with my sword. What—think’st thou that we fear
them?
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
My brother Montague shall post to London.
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we have left protectors of the King,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
them?
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
My brother Montague shall post to London.
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we have left protectors of the King,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
MONTAGUE
Brother, I go—I’ll win them, fear it not.
And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exit
And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exit
Enter Sir John Mortimer and his brother Sir Hugh
YORK
Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour.
The army of the Queen mean to besiege us.
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour.
The army of the Queen mean to besiege us.
SIR JOHN
She shall not need, we’ll meet her in the field.
YORK What, with five thousand men?
RICHARD
Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need.
A woman’s general—what should we fear?
A woman’s general—what should we fear?
A march sounds afar off
EDWARD
I hear their drums. Let’s set our men in order,
And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
YORK ⌈
to Sir John and Sir Hugh⌉
to Sir John and Sir Hugh⌉
Five men to twenty—though the odds be great,
I doubt not, uncles, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France
Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one—
Why should I not now have the like success?
Exeunt
1.3I doubt not, uncles, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France
Whenas the enemy hath been ten to one—
Why should I not now have the like success?
Exeunt
Alarums, and then enter the young Earl of Rutland and his Tutor, a chaplain
RUTLAND
Ah, whither shall I fly to scape their hands?
Enter Lord Clifford with soldiers
Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes.
CLIFFORD (
to the Tutor
)
to the Tutor
)
Chaplain, away—thy priesthood saves thy life.
As for the brat of this accursed duke,
Whose father slew my father—he shall die.
As for the brat of this accursed duke,
Whose father slew my father—he shall die.
TUTOR
And I, my lord, will bear him company.
CLIFFORD Soldiers, away with him.
TUTOR
Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child
Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
Exit, guarded
⌈
Rutland falls to the ground
⌉
CLIFFORD
How now—is he dead already?
Or is it fear that makes him close his eyes?
I’ll open them.
Or is it fear that makes him close his eyes?
I’ll open them.
RUTLAND ⌈
reviving
⌉
reviving
⌉
So looks the pent-up lion o‘er the wretch
That trembles under his devouring paws,
And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey,
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword
And not with such a cruel threat’ning look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath.
Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
That trembles under his devouring paws,
And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey,
And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword
And not with such a cruel threat’ning look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath.
Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.
CLIFFORD
In vain thou speak’st, poor boy. My father’s blood
Hath stopped the passage where thy words should
enter.
Hath stopped the passage where thy words should
enter.
RUTLAND
Then let my father’s blood open it again.
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
CLIFFORD
Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge sufficient for me.
No—if I digged up thy forefathers’ graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul.
And till I root out their accursed line,
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore—
Were not revenge sufficient for me.
No—if I digged up thy forefathers’ graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul.
And till I root out their accursed line,
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore—
RUTLAND
O, let me pray before I take my death.
⌈
Kneeling
⌉ To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me.
⌈
Kneeling
⌉ To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me.
CLIFFORD
Such pity as my rapier’s point affords.
RUTLAND
I never did thee harm—why wilt thou slay me?
CLIFFORD
Thy father hath.
RUTLAND But ’twas ere I was born.
Thou hast one son—for his sake pity me,
Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
He be as miserably slain as I.
Ah, let me live in prison all my days,
And when I give occasion of offence,
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
He be as miserably slain as I.
Ah, let me live in prison all my days,
And when I give occasion of offence,
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
CLIFFORD
No cause? Thy father slew my father, therefore die.
He stabs him
He stabs him
RUTLAND
Dii faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae. He dies
CLIFFORD
Plantagenet—I come, Plantagenet!
And this thy son’s blood cleaving to my blade
Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood,
Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both.
And this thy son’s blood cleaving to my blade
Shall rust upon my weapon till thy blood,
Congealed with this, do make me wipe off both.
Exit with Rutland’s body
⌈
and soldiers
⌉
Alarum. Enter Richard Duke of York
YORK
The army of the Queen hath got the field;
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back, and fly like ships before the wind,
Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons—God knows what hath bechancèd them.
But this I know—they have demeaned themselves
Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me,
And thrice cried, ‘Courage, father, fight it out!’
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encountered him.
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried, ‘Charge and give no foot of ground!’
And cried ‘A crown or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre or an earthly sepulchre!’
With this, we charged again—but out, alas—
We bodged again, as I have seen a swan
With bootless labour swim against the tide
And spend her strength with over-matching waves.
A short alarum within
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back, and fly like ships before the wind,
Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons—God knows what hath bechancèd them.
But this I know—they have demeaned themselves
Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me,
And thrice cried, ‘Courage, father, fight it out!’
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encountered him.
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried, ‘Charge and give no foot of ground!’
And cried ‘A crown or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre or an earthly sepulchre!’
With this, we charged again—but out, alas—
We bodged again, as I have seen a swan
With bootless labour swim against the tide
And spend her strength with over-matching waves.
A short alarum within
Ah, hark—the fatal followers do pursue,
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury;
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury.
The sands are numbered that makes up my life.
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of
Northumberland, and the young Prince Edward,
with soldiers
Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland—
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage!
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury;
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury.
The sands are numbered that makes up my life.
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter Queen Margaret, Lord Clifford, the Earl of
Northumberland, and the young Prince Edward,
with soldiers
Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland—
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage!
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
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