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Who hath not seen them (even with those wings Have caus'd him, by new act of parliament,
Which sometime they have us'd with fearful flight) To blot out me, and put his own son in.
Make war with him that climb'd unto their nest, Clif. And reason too ;
Offering their own lives in their young's defence ? Who should succeed the father, but the son ?
For shame, my liege, make them your

precedent ! Rich. Are you there, butcher?-0, I cannot speak Were it not pity that this goodly boy

Clif. Ay, crook-back; here I stand to answer thee, Should lose his birthright by his father's fault ; Or any he the proudest of thy sort. And long hereafter, say unto his child,

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was What my great-grandfather and grandsire got,

it not? My careless father fondly8 gave away?

Clif. Ay, and old York, and yet not satisfied. Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy ; Rich. For heaven's sake, lords, give signal to the And let his manly face, which promiseth

fight. Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart,

War. What say'st thou, Henry, wilt thou yield To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him.

the crown? K. Hen. Full well hath Clifford play'd the orator, Q. Mar. Why, how now, long-tongu'd Warwick : Inferring arguments of mighty force.

dare you speak ? But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear, When you and I met at Saint Alban's last, That things ill got had ever bad success ?

Your legs did better service than your hands. I'll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind;

War. Then 'twas my turn to fly, and now 'tis thine. And would, my father had left me no more !

Clif. You said so much before, and yet you Aed. For all the rest is held at such a rate,

War. 'Twas not your valour, Clifford, drove me As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep,

thence. Than in possession any jot of pleasure.

North. No, nor your manhood, that durst make Ah, cousin York! 'would thy best friends did know,

you stay. How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reverently; Q. Mar. My lord, cheer up your spirits; our foes Break off the parle: for scarce I can refrain are nigh,

The execution of my big-swoln heart And this soft courage makes your followers faint. Upon that Clifford, that cruel child-killer. You promis'd knighthood to our forward son ; Clif. I slew thy father : Call'st thou him a child? Unsheath your sword, and dub him presently. – Rich. Ay, like a dastard, and a treacherous coward, Edward, kneel down.

As thou didst kill our tender brother Rutland ; K. Hen. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; But, ere sun-set, I'll make thee curse the deed. And learn this lesson, Draw thy sword in right. K. Hen. Have done with words, my lords, and Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave,

hear me speak. I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,

Q. Mar. Defy them then, or else hold close thy lips. And in that quarrel use it to the death.

K. Hen. I prythee, give no limits to my tongue; Clif: Why, that is spoken like a toward prince. I am a king, and privileg'd to speak. Enter a Messenger.

Clif. My liege, the wound, that bred this meeting

here, Mess. Royal commanders, be in readiness:

Cannot be cur’d by words; therefore be still. For, with a band of thirty thousand men,

Rich. Then, executioner, unsheath thy sword : Comes Warwick, backing of the duke of York;

By Him that made us all, I am resolv'd', And, in the towns as they do march along,

That Clifford's manhood lies upon his tongue. Proclaims him king, and many fly to him :

Edw. Say, Henry, shall I have my right, or no ? Darraign your battle 9, for they are at hand. Clif. I would your highness would depart the field; That ne'er shall dine, unless thou yield the crown.

A thousand men have broke their fasts to-day, The queen hath best success when you are absent.

War. If thou deny, their blood upon thy head; Q. Mar. Ay, good my lord, and leave us to our

For York in justice puts his armour on. fortune. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too ; therefore

Prince. If that be right, which Warwick says is

right, North. Be it with resolution, then, to fight.

There is no wrong, but every thing is right. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, For, well I wot, thou hast thy mother's tongue.

Rich. Whoever got thee, there thy mother stands ; And hearten those that fight in your defence : Unsheath your sword, good father; cry, Saint George! But like a foul mis-shapen stigmatick,

Q. Mar. But thou art neither like thy sire, nor dam; March. Enter Edward, GEORGE, Richard, War- Mark'd by the destinies to be avoided, WICK, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, and Soldiers.

As venom toads, or lizards' dreadful stings. Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry! wilt thou kneel for Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt?, grace,

Whose father bears the title of a king, And set thy diadem upon my head ;

(As if a channel should be call'd the sea,) Or bide the mortal fortune of the field ?

Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art exQ. Mar. Go, rate thy minions, proud insulting boy!

traught, Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms,

To let thy tongue detect thy base-born heart? Before thy sovereign, and thy lawful king ?

Edw. Helen of Greece was fairer far than thou, Edw. I am bis king, and he should bow his knee; Although thy husband may be Menelaus; I was adopted heir by his consent:

And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong d Since when, his oath is broke: for, as I hear, By that false woman, as this king by thee. You — that are king, though he do wear the His father revell’d in the heart of France, crown,

And tam’d the king, and made the dauphin stoop; 8 Foolishly. g1.e. Arrange your order of battle. " It is my firm persuasion.

2 Gilding.

I'll stay.

And, had he match'd according to his state, Here on my knee I vow to God above,
He might have kept that glory to this day : I'll never pause again, never stand still,
But, when he took a beggar to his bed,

Till either death hath clos’d these eyes of mine,
And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day; Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine;
That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine ;
And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride ? I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
Hadst thou been meek, our uitle still had slept; Thou setter up and plucker down of kings!
And we, in pity of the gentle king,

Beseeching thee, - if with thy will it stands, Had slipp'd our claim until another age.

That to my foes this body must be prey, Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, spring,

And give sweet passage to my sinful soul ! And that thy summer bred us no increase,

Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, We set the axe to thy usurping root :

Where'er it be, in heaven, or on earth.
And though the edge hath something hit curselves, Rich. Brother, give me thy hand; — and, gentle
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,

Warwick,
We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, Let me embrace thee in my weary arms :-
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods. I, that did never weep, now melt with woe,

Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; That winter should cut off our spring-time so. Not willing any longer conference,

War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords, fareSince thou deny'st the gentle king to speak.

well. Sound trumpets !- let our bloody colours wave! - Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, And either victory, or else a grave.

And give them leave to fly that will not stay; Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.

And call them pillars, that will stand to us; Edw. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay; And if we thrive, promise them such rewards These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. As victors wear at the Olympian games :

(Exeunt. This may plant courage in their quailing breasts ;

For yet is hope of life, and victory. – SCENE III. A Field of Battle between Towton Fore-slow 3 no longer, make we hence amain. and Saxton in Yorkshire.

[Ereunt. Alarums : Ercursions. Enter Warwick. SCENE IV. The same. Another Part of the War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,

Field. I lay me down a little while to breathe :

Excursions. Enter Richard and CLIFFORD. For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid, Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone : And, spite of spite, needs must I rest a while. Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York,

And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Enter Edward, running.

Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wail. Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle

Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone : death :

This is the hand, that stabb’d thy father York ; For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; War. How now, my lord ? what hap? what hope And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, of good ?

And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and brother,

To execute the like upon thyself ;
Enter GEORGE.

And so have at thee.
Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; [They fight. Warwick enters ; CLIFFORD flies.
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us :

Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; What counsel give you, whither shall we fly? For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exeunt.

Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are, and cannot shiun pursuit.

SCENE V. Another Part of the Field. Enter Richard.

Alarum. Enter King Henry. Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn

K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's war, thyself?

When dying clouds contend with growing light; Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance : Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. And in the very pangs of death, he cried,

Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,

Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind : Warwick, revenge ! brother, revenge my death ! Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea So underneath the belly of their steeds,

Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, Sometime, the flood prevails ; and then, the wind; The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.

Now, one the better; then, another best; War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: Both tugging to be victors, breast to breart, I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly.

Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, So is the equal poise of this fell war. Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage ? Here on this molehill will I sit me down. And look upon, as if the tragedy

To whom God will, there be the victory! Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors ?

3 Be dilatory.

For Margaret, my queen, and Clifford too, For I have bought it with an hundred blows.
Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both, But let me see: – is this our foeman's face ?
They prosper best of all when I am thence.

Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son !
Would I were dead! if God's good will were so : Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,
For what is in this world, but grief and woe ? Throw up thine eye; see, see, what showers arise,
Alas! methinks, it were a happy life,

Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, To be no better than a homely swain;

Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart ! To sit upon a hill, as I do now,

0, pity, God, this miserable age! To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, What stratagems 4, how fell, how butcherly, Thereby to see the minutes how they run :

Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, How many make the hour full complete,

This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! How many hours bring about the day

O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, How many days will finish up the year,

And hath bereft thee of thy life too late ! How many years a mortal man may live.

K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than common When this is known, then to divide the times :

grief ! So many hours must I tend my flock;

O, that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! So many hours must I take my rest;

0, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! So many hours must I contemplate ;

The red rose and the white are on his face, So many hours must I sport myself ;

The fatal colours of our striving houses : So many days my ewes have been with young; The one, his purple blood right well resembles ; So many weeks ere the poor fools will yean; The other, his pale cheeks, methinks, present : So many years ere I shall shear the fleece :

Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! So minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, and years, If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. Pass'd over to the end they were created,

Son. How will my mother, for a father's death, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied ? Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet! how lovely! Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my son, Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied ? To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep,

K. Hen. How will the country, for these woful Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy

chances, To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? Misthink the king, and not be satisfied ? 0, yes it doth : a thousand fold it doth.

Son. Was ever son, so ru'd a father's death? And to conclude, — the shepherd's homely curds, Fath. Was ever father, so bemoan'd a son ? His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,

K. Hen. Was ever king, so griev'd for subjects' woe? His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my Is far beyond a prince's delicates,

fill.

[Erit, with the Body. His viands sparkling in a golden cup,

Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy windingHis body couched in a curious bed,

sheet; When care, mistrust, and treason, wait on him. My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre; Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his Father, For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go. drugging in the dead Body.

My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ; Son. Ill blows the wind, that profits nobody.

And so obsequious 5 will thy father be,

Sad for the loss of thee, having no more,
This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,

As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
May be possessed with some store of crowns :
And I, that haply take them from him now,

I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will,

For I have murder'd where I should not kill. May yet ere night yield both my life and them

[Exit, with the Body. To some man else, as this dead man doth me.

K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with Who's this ?-0 Heaven ! it is my father's face,

care, Whom in this conflict I urrawares have kill'd.

Here sits a king more woful than you are.
O heavy times, begetting such events !
From London by the king was I press'd forth ; Alarums : Excursions. Enter Queen MARGARET,
My father, being the earl of Warwick's man,

PRINCE OF WALES, and EXETER.
Came on the part of York, press'd by his master;
And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life,

Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, Have by my hands of life bereaved him.

And Warwick rages like a chafed bull : Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did !.

Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. And pardon, father, for I knew not thee !

Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord, towards Berwick My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks;

post amain :

Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds And no more words, till they have flow'd their fill. K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times !

Having the fearful flying hare in sight, Whilst lions war, and battle for their dens,

With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath, Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.

And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear ;

Are at our backs; and therefore bence amain. And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,

Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with them: Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief. Or else come after, I'll away before.

Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; Enter a Father, who has killed his Son, with the Body K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet in his arms.

Exeter; Faih. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me,

4 i.e. Dreadful events. Give me thy gold, if ihou hast any gold;

Careful of obsequies, or funeral rites.

goes hard,

Not that I fear to stay, but love to go

Your father's head, which Clifford placed there : Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! Instead whereof, let this supply the room;

[Ercunt. Measure for measure must be answered. SCENE VI. - The same.

Edw. Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to our

house, A loud Alarum. Enter CLIFFORD, wounded. That nothing sung but death to us and ours: Clif. Here burns my candle out, ay, here it dies, Now death shall stop his dismal threatening sound, Which, while it lasted, gave king Henry light.

And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak. 0, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,

[ Attendants bring the Body forward. More than my body's parting with my soul.

War. I think his understanding is bereft:My love, and fear, glu'd many friends to thee; Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speakstothee?And now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt. Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life, Impairing Henry, strength'ning mis-proud York,

And he nor sees, nor hears us what we say. The common people swarm like summer flies :

Rich. O, 'would he did! and so, perhaps, he doth; And whither fly the gnats, but to the sun?

'Tis but his policy to counterfeit, And who shines now but Henry's enemies ?

Because he would avoid such bitter taunts, O Phæbus ! hadst thou never given consent

Which in the time of death he gave our father. That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,

Gen. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager Thy burning car never kad scorch'd the earth :

words. 6 And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings should do,

Rich. Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace. Or as thy father, and his father did,

Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence. Giving no ground unto the house of York,

War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults. They never then had sprung like summer flies;

Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy faults. I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm,

Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to York. Had left no mourning widows for our death,

Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee. And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.

Geo. Where's captain Margaret, to fence you now? For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air ?

War. They mock thee, Clifford! swear as thou

wast wont. And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity? Bootless are plaints, and cureless are my wounds;

Rich. What, not an oath ? nay then the world No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight: The foe is merciless, and will not pity;

When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath :For, at their hands, I have deserv'd no pity.

I know by that, he's dead; And, by my soul, The air hath got into my deadly wounds,

If this right hand would buy two hours' life, And much effuse of blood doth make me faint:

That I in all despite might rail at him, Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and the rest;

This hand should chop it off; and with the issuing

blood 1 stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast,

[He faints.

Stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst

York and young Rutland could not satisfy. Alarum and Retreat. Enter EDWARD, GEORGE,

War. Ay, but he's dead: Off with the traitor's head, RICHARD, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and Soldiers.

And rear it in the place your father's stands. Edw. Now breathe we, lords ; good fortune bids And now to London with triumphant march, us pause,

There to be crowned England's royal king; And smooth the frowns of war with peacefullooks. — From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to France, Some troops pursue the bloody-minded queen ; - And ask the lady Bona for thy queen : That led calm Henry, though he were a king, So shalt thou sinew both these lands together ; As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,

And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not dread Command an argosy to stem the waves.

The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again; But think you, lords, that Clifford fled with them? For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,

War. No, 'tis impossible he should escape: Yet look to have them buz, to offend thine ears. For, though before his face I speak the words, First, will I see the coronation ; Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave : And then to Britany I'll cross the sea, And, wheresoe'er he is, he's surely dead.

To effect this marriage, so it please my lord. [CLIFFORD groans and dies. Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be: Edw. Whose soul is that which takes her heavy For on thy shoulder do I build my seat; leave?

And never will I undertake the thing, Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death's de- Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. parting.

Richard, I will create thee duke of Gloster ; Edw. See who it is: and, now the battle's ended, And George, of Clarence -- Warwick, as ourself, If friend, or foe, let him be gently us’d.

Shall do, and undo, as him pleaseth best.
Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford; Rich. Let me be duke of Clarence; George, of
Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch

Gloster;
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth, For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.
But set his murdering knife unto the root

War. Tut, that's a foolish observation;
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring, Richard be duke of Gloster : Now to London,
I mean our princely father, duke of York: To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt.
War. From off the gates of York fetch down the
head,

Sour words: words of asperity.

6

ACT III.

fee :

SCENE I. - A Chase in the North of England. 2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings

and queens? Enter two Keepers, wuh Cross-bows in their Hands.

K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was 1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll

born to : shroud ourselves;

A man at least, for less I should not be; For through this laund 7 anon the deer will come; And men may talk of kings, and why not I ? And in this covert will we make our stand,

2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a king. Culling the principal of all the deer.

K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's 2 Keep. l'll stay above the hill, so both may

shoot.

enough. 1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross- 2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy crown? bow

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my head; Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. Not deck'd with diamonds, and Indian stones, Here stand we both, and aim we at the best : Nor to be seen : my crown is call’d, content: And, for the time shall not seem tedious,

A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy. I'll tell thee what befell me on a day,

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with In this self-place where now we mean to stand.

content, 2 Keep. Here comes a man, let's stay till he be Your crown content, and you, must be contented past.

To go along with us: for, as we think, Enter King Henry, disguised, wilh a Prayer-book. You are the king, king Edward hath depos’d; K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol’n, even of pure Will apprehend you as his enemy.

And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance, love, To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.

K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an

oath? No Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine; Thy place is fill'd, thy scepter wrung from thee,

2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not now. Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed :

K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,

of England ? No humble suitors press to speak for right,

2 K'eep. Here in this country, where we now

remain. No, not a man comes for redress of thee, For how can I help them, and not myself?

K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months old; 1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's And you were sworn true subjects unto me:

My father and my grandfather, were kings; This is the quondam king ; let's seize upon him.

And, tell me then, have you not broke your oatlıs? K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities : For we were subjects but while you were king;

1 Keep. No; For wise men say, it is the wisest course. 2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.

K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a

man? 1 Keep. Forbear a while: we'll hear a little more. K. Hen. My queen and son, are gone to France Look, as I blow this feather from my face,

Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear for aid ;

And as the air blows it to me again,
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister

Obeying with my wind when I do blow,
To wife for Edward : If this news be true,

And yielding to another when it blows, Poor queen, and son, your labour is but lost;

Commanded always by the greater gust; For Warwick is a subtle orator,

Such is the lightness of you common men. And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. But do not break your oaths ; for, of that sin By this account, then, Margaret may win him ;

My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty. For she's a woman to be pitied much :

Go where you will, the king shall be commanded; Her sighs will make a battery in his breast;

And be you kings ; command and I'll obey. Her tears will pierce into a marble heart;

1 Keep. We are true subjects to the king, king

Edward.
The tiger will be mild, while she doth mourn;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse,

K. Hen. So would you be again to Henry,
To hear, and see, her plaints, her brinish tears.

If he were seated as king Edward is. Ay, but she's come to beg; Warwick, to give :

1 Keep. We charge you in God's name, and in She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry;

the king's,

with us unto the officers. He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. and - her Henry is depos'd;

K. Hen. In God's name lead; your king's name He smiles, and says — his Edward is installid;

be obey'd : That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no more :

And what God will, then let your king perform ; Whiles Warwick tells his titles, smooths the wrong,

And what he will, I humbly yield unto. (Ereunt. Inferreth arguments of mighty strength; And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, SCENE II. London. A Room in the Palace. With proniise of his sister, and what else, To strengtien and support king Edward's place. Enter King EDWARD, GLOSTER, CLARENCE, and O Margaret, thus 'twill be ; and thou, poor soul, Art then forsaken as thou went'st forlorn.

K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albans' field 7 A plain extended between woods,

This lady's husband, sir John Grey, was slain,

To

go

She weeps,

says

Lady Grey.

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