The queen is coming with a puissant host; 'War. Why then it sorts, brave warriors: Let's away. [Exeunt. SCENE II.. BEFORE YORK. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, the Prince of Wales, Clifford, and Northumberland, with forces. Q. Mar. Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, That sought to be encompass'd with your crown: 'Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? 'K. Hen. 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 infring'd my vow. Clif. 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, Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the ora tor, 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! 'As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep, 'Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes are nigh, 'And this soft courage makes your followers faint. 'You promis'd knighthood to our forward son; 'Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently.Edward, kneel down. K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And learn this lesson, -Draw thy sword in right. Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave, I'll draw it as apparent to the crown, Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. Enter a Messenger. Mes. 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. Clif. I would, your highness would depart the field; The queen hath best success when you are absent. Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our fortune. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. North. Be it with resolution then to fight. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George! March. Enter Edward, George, Richard, Warwick, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers. 'Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for grace, ' And set thy diadem upon my head; * Or bide the mortal fortune of the field? Q. Mar. Go rate thy minions, proud insulting boy! 'Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms, Edw. I am his king, and he should bow his knee; I was adopted heir by his consent: Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear, 'To blot out me, and put his own son in. Clif. And reason too; Who should succeed the father, but the son? 'Rich. Are you there, butcher?-O, I cannot speak! Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand, to answer thee, * Or any he the proudest of thy sort. Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfy'd. Rich. For God's sake, lords, give signal to the fight. War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the crown? 'Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd War- When you and I met at saint Alban's last, War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. Clif. You said so much before, and yet you fled. War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me thence. 1 'North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make you stay. Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently;Break off the parley; for scarce I can refrain The execution of my big-swoln heart Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. Clif. I slew thy father: Call'st thou him a child? Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous cow ard, As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland; K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. |