William Shakespeare - The Complete Works/William Shakespeare - The Complete Works on CD-ROM.iso/library/text/rdy/rdy4.txt

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HENRY THE SIXTH PART 3

Act 1 Scene 4

(Alarum. Enter Richard Duke of York)
l1l    York    The army of the Queen hath got the field;
l2l        My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
l3l        And all my followers to the eager foe
l4l        Turn back, and fly like ships before the wind,
l5l        Or lambs pursued by hunger-starvΦd wolves.
l6l        My sonsùGod knows what hath bechancΦd them.
l7l        But this I knowùthey have demeaned themselves
l8l        Like men born to renown by life or death.
l9l        Three times did Richard make a lane to me,
l10l        And thrice cried, ôCourage, father, fight it out!ö
l11l        And full as oft came Edward to my side,
l12l        With purple falchion painted to the hilt
l13l        In blood of those that had encountered him.
l14l        And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
l15l        Richard cried, ôCharge and give no foot of ground!ö
l16l        [                                            ]
l17l        And cried ôA crown or else a glorious tomb!
l18l        A sceptre or an earthly sepulchre!ö
l19l        With this, we charged againùbut out, alasù
l20l        We bodged again, as I have seen a swan
l21l        With bootless labour swim against the tide
l22l        And spend her strength with over-matching waves.
        (A short alarum within)
l23l        Ah, harkùthe fatal followers do pursue,
l24l        And I am faint and cannot fly their fury;
l25l        And were I strong, I would not shun their fury.
l26l        The sands are numbered that makes up my life.
l27l        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)
l28l        Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberlandù
l29l        I dare your quenchless fury to more rage!
l30l        I am your butt, and I abide your shot.
l31l    Northumberland    Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
l32l    Clifford    Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm,
l33l        With downright payment, showed unto my father.
l34l        Now Phaδton hath tumbled from his car,
l35l        And made an evening at the noontide prick.
l36l    York    My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth
l37l        A bird that will revenge upon you all,
l38l        And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,
l39l        Scorning whateÆer you can afflict me with.
l40l        Why come you not? Whatùmultitudes, and fear?
l41l    Clifford    So cowards fight when they can fly no further;
l42l        So doves do peck the falconÆs piercing talons;
l43l        So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,
l44l        Breathe out invectives Ægainst the officers.
l45l    York    O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again,
l46l        And in thy thought oÆerrun my former time,
l47l        And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face
l48l        And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice
l49l        Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this.
l50l    Clifford    I will not bandy with thee word for word,
l51l        But buckle with thee blows twice two for one.
        (He draws his sword)
l52l    Queen Margaret    Hold, valiant Clifford: for a thousand causes
l53l        I would prolong a while the traitorÆs life.
l54l        Wrath makes him deafùspeak thou, Northumberland.
l55l    Northumberland    Hold, Cliffordùdo not honour him so much
l56l        To prick thy finger though to wound his heart.
l57l        What valour were it when a cur doth grin
l58l        For one to thrust his hand between his teeth
l59l        When he might spurn him with his foot away?
l60l        It is warÆs prize to take all vantages,
l61l        And ten to one is no impeach of valour.
        (They fight and take York)
l62l    Clifford    Ay, ay, so strives the woodcock with the gin.
l63l    Northumberland    So doth the cony struggle in the net.
l64l    York    So triumph thieves upon their conquered booty,
l65l        So true men yield, with robbers so oÆermatched.
    Northumberland    (to the Queen)
l66l        What would your grace have done unto him now?
l67l    Queen Margaret    Brave warriors, Clifford and Northumberland,
l68l        Come make him stand upon this molehill here,
l69l        That wrought at mountains with outstretchΦd arms
l70l        Yet parted but the shadow with his hand.
        (To York)
l71l        Whatùwas it you that would be EnglandÆs king?
l72l        Was Æt you that revelled in our Parliament,
l73l        And made a preachment of your high descent?
l74l        Where are your mess of sons to back you now?
l75l        The wanton Edward and the lusty George?
l76l        And whereÆs that valiant crookback prodigy,
l77l        Dickie, your boy, that with his grumbling voice
l78l        Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies?
l79l        Or with the rest where is your darling Rutland?
l80l        Look, York, I stained this napkin with the blood
l81l        That valiant Clifford with his rapierÆs point
l82l        Made issue from the bosom of thy boy.
l83l        And if thine eyes can water for his death,
l84l        I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
l85l        Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly
l86l        I should lament thy miserable state.
l87l        I prithee, grieve, to make me merry, York.
l88l        Whatùhath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails
l89l        That not a tear can fall for RutlandÆs death?
l90l        Why art thou patient, man? Thou shouldst be mad,
l91l        And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
l92l        Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
l93l        Thou wouldst be feeÆd, I see, to make me sport.
l94l        York cannot speak unless he wear a crown.
        (To her men)
l95l        A crown for York, and, lords, bow low to him.
l96l        Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on.
        (She puts a paper crown on York's head)
l97l        Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king,
l98l        Ay, this is he that took King HenryÆs chair,
l99l        And this is he was his adopted heir.
l100l        But how is it that great Plantagenet
l101l        Is crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath?
l102l        As I bethink me, you should not be king
l103l        Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.
l104l        And will you pale your head in HenryÆs glory,
l105l        And rob his temples of the diadem
l106l        Now, in his life, against your holy oath?
l107l        O Ætis a fault too, too, unpardonable.
l108l        Off with the crown,
        (She knocks it from his head)
                            and with the crown his head,
l109l        And whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.
l110l    Clifford    That is my office for my fatherÆs sake.
l111l    Queen Margaret    Nay, stayùletÆs hear the orisons he makes.
l112l    York    She-wolf of France, but worse than wolves of France,
l113l        Whose tongue more poisons than the adderÆs toothù
l114l        How ill-beseeming is it in thy sex
l115l        To triumph like an Amazonian trull
l116l        Upon their woes whom fortune captivates!
l117l        But that thy face is visor-like, unchanging,
l118l        Made impudent with use of evil deeds,
l119l        I would essay, proud Queen, to make thee blush.
l120l        To tell thee whence thou camÆst, of whom derived,
l121l        Were shame enough to shame theeùwert thou not
            shameless.
l122l        Thy father bears the type of King of Naples,
l123l        Of both the Sicils, and Jerusalemù
l124l        Yet not so wealthy as an English yeoman.
l125l        Hath that poor monarch taught thee to insult?
l126l        It needs not, nor it boots thee not, proud Queen,
l127l        Unless the adage must be verified
l128l        That beggars mounted run their horse to death.
l129l        ÆTis beauty that doth oft make women proudù
l130l        But, God he knows, thy share thereof is small;
l131l        ÆTis virtue that doth make them most admiredù
l132l        The contrary doth make thee wondered at;
l133l        ÆTis government that makes them seem divineù
l134l        The want thereof makes thee abominable.
l135l        Thou art as opposite to every good
l136l        As the antipodes are unto us,
l137l        Or as the south to the septentrion.
l138l        O tigerÆs heart wrapped in a womanÆs hide!
l139l        How couldst thou drain the life-blood of the child
l140l        To bid the father wipe his eyes withal,
l141l        And yet be seen to bear a womanÆs face?
l142l        Women are soft, mild, pitiful, and flexibleù
l143l        Thou stern, obdurate, flinty, rough, remorseless.
l144l        BiddÆst thou me rage? Why, now thou hast thy wish.
l145l        Wouldst have me weep? Why, now thou hast thy will.
l146l        For raging wind blows up incessant showers,
l147l        And when the rage allays the rain begins.
l148l        These tears are my sweet RutlandÆs obsequies,
l149l        And every drop cries vengeance for his death
l150l        ÆGainst thee, fell Clifford, and thee, false Frenchwoman.
l151l    Northumberland    Beshrew me, but his passions move me so
l152l        That hardly can I check my eyes from tears.
l153l    York    That face of his the hungry cannibals
l154l        Would not have touched, would not have stained with
            bloodù
l155l        But you are more inhuman, more inexorable,
l156l        O, ten times more than tigers of Hyrcania.
l157l        See, ruthless Queen, a hapless fatherÆs tears.
l158l        This cloth thou dippedÆst in blood of my sweet boy,
l159l        And I with tears do wash the blood away.
l160l        Keep thou the napkin and go boast of this,
l161l        And if thou tellÆst the heavy story right,
l162l        Upon my soul the hearers will shed tears,
l163l        Yea, even my foes will shed fast-falling tears
l164l        And say, ôAlas, it was a piteous deedö.
l165l        There, take the crownùand with the crown, my curse:
l166l        And in thy need such comfort come to thee
l167l        As now I reap at thy too cruel hand.
l168l        Hard-hearted Clifford, take me from the world.
l169l        My soul to heaven, my blood upon your heads.
l170l    Northumberland    Had he been slaughter-man to all my kin,
l171l        I should not, for my life, but weep with him,
l172l        To see how inly sorrow gripes his soul.
l173l    Queen Margaret    Whatùweeping-ripe, my lord Northumberland?
l174l        Think but upon the wrong he did us all,
l175l        And that will quickly dry thy melting tears.
l176l    Clifford    HereÆs for my oath, hereÆs for my fatherÆs death.
        (He stabs York)
l177l    Queen Margaret    And hereÆs to right our gentle-hearted King.
        (She stabs York)
l178l    York    Open thy gate of mercy, gracious Godù
l179l        My soul flies through these wounds to seek out thee.
        (He dies)
l180l    Queen Margaret    Off with his head and set it on York gates,
l181l        So York may overlook the town of York.
        (Flourish. Exeunt with York's body)