Drums. Some Soldiers of YORK's party break in. Then enter the DUKE of YORK, EDWARD, RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, WARWICK, and others, with white roses in their hats. War. I wonder how the king escaped our hands. Whereat the great lord of Northumberland, I cleft his beaver with a downright blow; [Showing his bloody sword. Mont. And, brother, here's the earl of Wiltshire's blood, [To YORK, showing his. Whom I encountered as the battles1 joined. Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. [Throwing down the DUKE of SOMERSET's head. Which now the house of Lancaster usurps, For this is thine, and not king Henry's heirs'. York. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will; For hither we have broken in by force. Norf. We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die. York. Thanks, gentle Norfolk :-stay by me, my lords; And, soldiers, stay, and lodge by me this night. War. And, when the king comes, offer him no violence, Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce. [The Soldiers retire. York. The queen, this day, here holds her parliament, But little thinks we shall be of her council: By words or blows here let us win our right. Rich. Armed as we are, let's stay within this house. War. The bloody parliament shall this be called, Unless Plantagenet, duke of York, be king, The battles] The battalions; the armies. And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice York. Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute; War. Neither the king, nor he that loves him best, The proudest he1 that holds up Lancaster, Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells. Flourish. Enter KING HENRY, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, WESTMORELAND, EXETER, and others, with red roses in their hats. K. Hen. My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits, Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father; And thine, lord Clifford; and you both have vowed re venge On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends. North. If I be not, heavens be revenged on me! Clif. The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel. West. What, shall we suffer this? let's pluck him down; My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it. K. Hen. Be patient, gentle earl of Westmoreland. The proudest he] He was often used for man, and she for woman. Farther on, ii. 2, we have 'Or any he the proudest of thy sort.' So in the Taming of the Shrew, i. 2, That she's the choice love of signior Gremio.' Clif. Patience is for poltroons, such as he; North. Well hast thou spoken, cousin; be it so. Exe. But when the duke is slain, they'll quickly fly. K Hen. Far be the thought of this from Henry's heart, To make a shambles of the parliament-house! Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats Shall be the war that Henry means to use. [They advance to the DUKE. Thou factious duke of York, descend my throne, Exe. For shame, come down: he made thee duke of York. 'T was my inheritance, as the earldom was. War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown, In following this usurping Henry. Clif. Whom should he follow but his natural king? War. True, Clifford; and that's Richard, duke of York. K. Hen. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne? York. It must and shall be so: content thyself. War. Be duke of Lancaster, let him be king. West. He is both king and duke of Lancaster ; And that the lord of Westmoreland shall maintain. War. And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget That we are those which chased you from the field And slew your fathers, and with colours spread Marched through the city to the palace-gates. North. Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief; And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it. West. Plantagenet, of thee, and these thy sons, Thy kinsmen, and thy friends, I'll have more lives Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. Clif. Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words, I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger As shall revenge his death before I stir. War. Poor Clifford ! how I scorn his worthless threats! York. Will you we show our title to the crown? If not, our swords shall plead it in the field. K. Hen. What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, duke of York; Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, earl of March: I am the son of Henry the fifth, Who made the dauphin and the French to stoop, And seized upon their towns and provinces. War. Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all. When I was crowned I was but nine months old. Rich. You are old enough now, and yet methinks you lose: Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head. Edw. Sweet father, do so; set it on your head. Mont. Good brother [To YORK.], as thou lov'st and honour'st arms, Let's fight it out, and not stand cavilling thus. Rich. Sound drums and trumpets, and the king will fly. York. Sons, peace! K. Hen. Peace thou! and give king Henry leave to speak. War. Plantagenet shall speak first: hear him, lords, And be you silent and attentive too, For he that interrupts him shall not live. |