Enrich the time to come with smooth-faced peace, peace! Now civil wounds are stopped, peace lives again : That she may long live here, God say Amen! [Exeunt. THE TRUE TRAGEDIE OF RICHARD DUKE OF YORKE, AND THE GOOD War. Sore spent with toile as runners with the race, For strokes receiude, and manie blowes repaide, Enter EDWARD. Edw. Smile gentle heauens or strike vngentle death, Enter GEORGE. George. Come brother, come lets to the field againe, For yet theres hope inough to win the daie : Then let vs backe to cheere our fainting Troupes, Lest they retire now we haue left the field. War. How now my lords: what hap, what hope of good? Enter RICHARD running. Rich. Ah Warwike, why hast thou withdrawne thy selfe? Thy noble father in the thickest thronges, Cride still for Warwike his thrise valiant son, Vntill with thousand swords he was beset, And manie wounds made in his aged brest, And as he tottring sate vpon his steede, He waft his hand to me and cride aloud: War. Then let the earth be drunken with his bloud, Neuer to passe from forth this bloudy field Edw. Lord Warwike, I doe bend my knees with thine, And in that vow now ioine my soule to thee, Thou setter vp and puller downe of kings, Or let vs die before we loose the daie : George. Then let vs haste to cheere the souldiers harts, And call them pillers that will stand to vs, And hiely promise to remunerate Their trustie seruice, in these dangerous warres. Rich. Come, come awaie, and stand not to debate, For yet is hope of fortune good enough. Brothers, giue me your hands, and let vs part Where ere it be in heauen or in earth. Now I that neuer wept, now melt in wo, Warwike farewel. War. Awaie awaie, once more sweet Lords farewell. [Exeunt Omnes. Alarmes, and then enter RICHARD at one dore and CLIFFORD at the other. Rich. A Clifford a Clifford. Clif. A Richard a Richard. Rich. Now Clifford, for Yorke & young Rutlands death, This thirsty sword that longs to drinke thy bloud, Clif. Now Richard, I am with thee here alone, And so haue at thee. Alarmes. They fight, and then enters WARWIKE and rescues RICHARD, & then exeunt omnes. Alarmes still, and then enter HENRY solus. Hen. Oh gratious God of heauen looke downe on vs, Now leaning this way, now to that side driue, Enter a souldier with a dead man in his armes From London was I prest out by the king, Enter an other souldier with a dead man. 2 Soul. Lie there thou that foughtst with me so stoutly, Now let me see what store of gold thou haste, But staie, me thinkes this is no famous face: Oh no it is my sonne that I haue slaine in fight, O monstrous times begetting such euents, How cruel bloudy, and ironious, This deadlie quarrell dailie doth beget, Poore boy thy father gaue thee lif too late, And hath bereau'de thee of thy life too sone. King. Wo aboue wo, griefe more then common griefe, Whilst Lyons warre and battaile for their dens, Poore lambs do feele the rigor of their wraths: The red rose and the white are on his face, The fatall colours of our striuing houses, Wither one rose, and let the other flourish, For if you striue, ten thousand liues must perish. 1 Sould. How will my mother for my fathers death, Take on with me and nere be satisfide? 2 Sol. How will my wife for slaughter of my son, Take on with me and nere be satisfide ? King. How will the people now misdeeme their king, Oh would my death their mindes could satisfie, 1 Sould. Was euer son so rude his fathers bloud to spil? 2 Soul. Was euer father so vnnaturall his son to kill? King. Was euer king thus greeud and vexed still? 1 Sould. Ile beare thee hence from this accursed place, For wo is me to see my fathers face. [Exit with his father. |