March. Enter King Edward, Gloucefter, Clarence, and Soldiers.

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder ftands the thorny. wood,

Which, by the heav'n's affiftance and your ftrength,.
Muft by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.

I need not add more fewel to your fire,

(For well I wot ye blaze), to burn them out : Give fignal to the fight, and to it, Lords.

Queen, Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I fhould My tears gainfay; for every word I speak, Ye fee I drink the water of my eye.

[fay,

Therefore no more but this: Henry, your Sovereign,
Is prifoner to the foe, his ftate ufurp'd,

His realm a flaughter-house, his subjects flain,
His ftatutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent;
And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
You fight in juftice: then, in God's name, Lords,
Be valiant, and give fignal to the battle.

Alarum. Retreat. Excurfions. Both parties go out. Re-enter King Edward, Gloucefter, Clarence, &c. The Queen, Oxford, and Somerfet, prisoners.

K. Edw. Now here's a period of tumultuous broils.
Away with Oxford to Hammes castle straight :
For Somerset, off with his guilty head.

Go, bear them hence: I will not hear them fpeak.
Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but ftoop with patience to my fortune.
[Exeunt.
Queen. So part we fadly in this troublous world,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerufalem.

K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that who finds EdShall have a high reward, and he his life?" [ward, Clo. It is, and, lo! where youthful Edward comes,

Enter the Prince of Wales.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him What? can fo young a thorn begin to prick? [speak.

Edward, what fatisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou haft turn'd me to?

Prince. Speak like a fubject, proud ambitious York. Suppofe that I am now my father's mouth; Refign thy chair; and, where I ftand, kneel thou, Whilft I propose the self-fame words to thee, Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

Queen. Ah! that thy father had been fo refolv'd! Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat, And ne'er have ftoll'n the breech from Lancaster.

Prince. Let Afop fable in a winter's night; His currifh riddles fort not with this place.

Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word. ' Queen. Ay, thou waft born to be a plague to men. Glo. For God's fake, take away this captive fcold. Prince. Nay, take away this fcolding crook-back

rather.

K. Edw Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your
Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. [tongue.
Prince. I know my duty, you're undutiful:
Lafcivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,
And thou mif-fhapen Dick, I tell ye all,

I am your better, traitors as ye are:
And thou ufurp'ft my father's right and mine.
Glo. Take that, thou likeness of this railer here.

[Stabs him.

K. Edw. And take thou that to end thy agony.

[Edward ftabs him.

Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury.

Queen. Oh, kill me too!

Glo. Marry, and fhall..

[Clarence Stabs him.

[Offers to kill her.

K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done

too much.

Glo. Why fhould fhe live, to fill the world with words?

K. Edw. What? doth fhe fwoon? use means for

her recov'ry

Glo. Clarence, excufe me to the King my brother : I'll bence to London on a ferious matter.

Ere ye come there, be fure to hear fome news.

Clar. What? what!

Glo. The Tower, man, the Tower!-I'll root 'em

out.

[Exit.

Queen. Oh Ned, fweet Ned! fpeak to thy mother, Canft thou not speak? O traitors, murderers! [boy. They that fabb'd Cæfar, shed no blood at all,

Did not offend, and were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by to equal it.

He was a man; this (in respect) a child
And men ne'er fpend their fury on a child.

What's worse than murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burft, and if I speak-
And I will speak, that so my heart may
Butchers and villains, bloody canibals,

burst.

How fweet a plant have you untimely cropt!
You have no children. Butchers, if you had
The thought of them would have flirr'd up remorse;
But if you ever chance to have a child,

Look in his youth to have him fo cut off;

As, deathfien! you have rid this fweet young prince. K. Edw. Away with her, go bear her hence by force. Queen. Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here: Here theath thy fword, I'll pardon thee my death, What? wilt thou not? then, Clarence, do it thou.

Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee fo much eafe. Queen, Good Clarence, do; fweet Clarence, do thou

do it.

Clar. Didft thou not hear me fwear I would not do it? Queen. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thy felf: 'Twas fin before, but now 'tis charity.

What, wilt thou not? Where is that devil butcher
Richard? hard-favour'd Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here: murther is thy alms-deed.
Petitioner for biood thou ne'er putt'ft back.

K. Edw. Away, I fay; I charge ye, bear her hence. Queen. So come to you and yours, as to this prince! [Exit Queen.

K. Edw. Where's Richard gone?

Clar. To London all in poft, and, as I guess,

To make a bloody fupper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's fudden, if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence, difcharge the common fort

With pay and thanks; and let's away to London,
And fee our gentle Queen how well the fares;
By this I hope the hath a fon for me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VII. Changes to the Tower of London. Enter King Henry and Gloucefter, with the Lieutenant on the Tower walls.

Glo. Good day, my Lord; what! at your book fo hard?

[rather;

K. Henry. Ay, my good Lord; my Lord, I fhould fay 'Tis fin to flatter, good was little better: Good Glo'fter, and good devil, were alike, And both prepoft'rous; therefore, not good Lord. Glo. Sir, leave us to ourselves, we must confer. [Exit Lieutenant, K. Henry. So flies the reckless fhepherd from the So firft the harın lefs flock doth yield his fleece, And next his throat, unto the butcher's knife. What fcene of death hath Richard now to act? Glo. Sufpicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bufh an officer.

[wolf;

K. Henry. The bird that hath been limed in a bufh, With trembling wings mifdoubteth ev'ry bush, And I, the hapless male to one fweet bird,

Have now the fatal object in my eye,

Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, That taught his fon the office of a fowl? And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd. K. Henry, I, Dedalus; my poor boy, Icarus ; Thy father, Minos that deny'd our course; The fun, that fear'd the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself the fea, Whofe envious gulph did fwallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words; My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragic hiftory. But wherefore dolt thou come? Is't for my life? Glo. Think'ft thou I am an executioner ? K. Henry. A perfecutor I am fure thou art.

If murth'ring innocents be executing,

Why then thou art an executioner.

Gle. Thy fon I kill'd for his prefumption.

[prefume,

K. Henry. Hadft thou been kill'd when first thou didît Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a fon of mine. And thus I prophefy, that many a thoufand Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear, And many an old man's figh, and many a widow's, And many an orphan's water-standing eye, (Men for their fons, wives for their husbands' fate, And orphans for their parents' timeless death), Shall rue the hour that ever thou waft born. The owl fhriek'd at thy birth, an evil fign: The night-crow cry'd, a boding lucklefs tune; Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempeft shook down trees; The raven croak'd hoarfe on the chimney's top, And chattering pyes in difmal difcords fung. Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain, And yet brought forth lefs than a mother's hope, To wit an indigested deform'd lump,

Not like the fruit of fuch a goodly tree.

Teeth hadft thou in thy head when thou waft born,
To fignify thou cam'ft to bite the world:
And, if the reft be true which I have heard,

Thou cam'ft into the world with thy legs forward.
Glo. I'll hear no more: die prophet, in thy fpeech :
[Stabs him.

For this, amongst the reft, was I ordain'd.
K. Henry Ay, and for much more flaughter after

this

O God! forgive my fins, and pardon thee!

[Dies.
Glo. What will the afpiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
See how my fword weeps for the poor King's death?
O may fuch purple tears be always thed,
From those who wifh the downfal of our house!
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell, and fay I fent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.

I that have neither pity, love, nor fear..
Indeed 'tis true that Henry told me of:
For I have often heard my mother fay,