Kent. Fields between Dartford and Blackheath. |
| |
The KING'S camp on one side. On the other, enter YORK, and his army of Irish, with drum and colours. |
| York. From Ireland thus comes York to claim his right, |
| And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head: |
| Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright, |
| To entertain great England's lawful king. |
| Ah Sancta majestas, who would not buy thee dear? |
| Let them obey that know not how to rule; |
| This hand was made to handle nought but gold: |
| I cannot give due action to my words, |
| Except a sword, or sceptre balance it. |
| A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul, |
| On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France. |
| |
Enter BUCKINGHAM. |
| Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me? |
| The king hath sent him, sure: I must dissemble. |
| Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well. |
| York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting. |
| Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure? |
| Buck. A messenger from Henry, our dread liege, |
| To know the reason of these arms in peace; |
| Or why thou,—being a subject as I am,— |
| Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, |
| Shouldst raise so great a power without his leave, |
| Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. |
| York. [Aside.] Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great: |
| O! I could hew up rocks and fight with flint, |
| I am so angry at these abject terms; |
| And now, like Ajax Telamonius, |
| On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury. |
| I am far better born than is the king, |
| More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts; |
| But I must make fair weather yet awhile, |
| Till Henry be more weak, and I more strong. |
| [Aloud.] Buckingham, I prithee, pardon me, |
| That I have given no answer all this while; |
| My mind was troubled with deep melancholy. |
| The cause why I have brought this army hither |
| Is to remove proud Somerset from the king, |
| Seditious to his Grace and to the state. |
| Buck. That is too much presumption on thy part: |
| But if thy arms be to no other end, |
| The king hath yielded unto thy demand: |
| The Duke of Somerset is in the Tower. |
| York. Upon thine honour, is he a prisoner? |
| Buck. Upon mine honour, he is a prisoner. |
| York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers. |
| Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves; |
| Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field, |
| You shall have pay, and everything you wish, |
| And let my sov'reign, virtuous Henry, |
| Command my eldest son, nay, all my sons, |
| As pledges of my fealty and love; |
| I'll send them all as willing as I live: |
| Lands, goods, horse, armour, anything I have |
| Is his to use, so Somerset may die. |
| Buck. York, I commend this kind submission: |
| We twain will go into his highness' tent. |
| |
Enter KING HENRY, attended. |
| K. Hen. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us, |
| That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? |
| York. In all submission and humility |
| York doth present himself unto your highness. |
| K. Hen. Then what intend these forces thou dost bring? |
| York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence, |
| And fight against that monstrous rebel, Cade, |
| Who since I heard to be discomfited. |
| |
Enter IDEN, with CADE'S head. |
| Iden. If one so rude and of so mean condition |
| May pass into the presence of a king, |
| Lo! I present your Grace a traitor's head, |
| The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. |
| K. Hen. The head of Cade! Great God, how just art thou! |
| O! let me view his visage, being dead, |
| That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. |
| Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew him? |
| Iden. I was, an't like your majesty. |
| K. Hen. How art thou call'd, and what is thy degree? |
| Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name; |
| A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. |
| Buck. So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss |
| He were created knight for his good service. |
| K. Hen. Iden, kneel down. [He kneels.] Rise up a knight. |
| We give thee for reward a thousand marks; |
| And will, that thou henceforth attend on us. |
| Iden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty, |
| And never live but true unto his liege! |
| K. Hen. See! Buckingham! Somerset comes with the queen: |
| Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke. |
| |
Enter QUEEN MARGARET and SOMERSET. |
| Q. Mar. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, |
| But boldly stand and front him to his face. |
| York. How now! is Somerset at liberty? |
| Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts |
| And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. |
| Shall I endure the sight of Somerset? |
| False king! why hast thou broken faith with me, |
| Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse? |
| King did I call thee? no, thou art not king; |
| Not fit to govern and rule multitudes, |
| Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor. |
| That head of thine doth not become a crown; |
| Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff, |
| And not to grace an awful princely sceptre. |
| That gold must round engirt these brows of mine, |
| Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear, |
| Is able with the change to kill and cure. |
| Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up, |
| And with the same to act controlling laws. |
| Give place: by heaven, thou shalt rule no more |
| O'er him whom heaven created for thy ruler. |
| Som. O monstrous traitor:—I arrest thee, York, |
| Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown. |
| Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace. |
| York. Wouldst have me kneel? first let me ask of these |
| If they can brook I bow a knee to man. |
| Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail: [Exit an Attendant. |
| I know ere they will have me go to ward, |
| They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement. |
| Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain, |
| To say if that the bastard boys of York |
| Shall be the surety for their traitor father. [Exit BUCKINGHAM. |
| York. O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, |
| Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge! |
| The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, |
| Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those |
| That for my surety will refuse the boys! |
| |
Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENET, with Forces at one side; at the other, with Forces also, Old CLIFFORD and his Son. |
| See where they come: I'll warrant they'll make it good. |
| Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail. |
| Clif. [Kneeling.] Health and all happiness to my lord the king! |
| York. I thank thee, Clifford: say, what news with thee? |
| Nay, do not fright us with an angry look: |
| We are thy sov'reign, Clifford, kneel again; |
| For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee. |
| Clif. This is my king, York, I do not mistake; |
| But thou mistak'st me much to think I do. |
| To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad? |
| K. Hen. Ay, Clifford; a bedlam and ambitious humour |
| Makes him oppose himself against his king. |
| Clif. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, |
| And chop away that factious pate of his. |
| Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey: |
| His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. |
| York. Will you not, sons? |
| Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve. |
| Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons shall. |
| Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here! |
| York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so: |
| I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor. |
| Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, |
| That with the very shaking of their chains |
| They may astonish these fell-lurking curs: |
| Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. |
| |
Drums. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY, with Forces. |
| Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death, |
| And manacle the bear-ward in their chains, |
| If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place. |
| Rich. Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur |
| Run back and bite, because he was withheld; |
| Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw, |
| Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cried: |
| And such a piece of service will you do, |
| If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick. |
| Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, |
| As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! |
| York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. |
| Clif. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves. |
| K. Hen. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? |
| Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, |
| Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son! |
| What! wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian, |
| And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles? |
| O! where is faith? O, where is loyalty? |
| If it be banish'd from the frosty head, |
| Where shall it find a harbour in the earth? |
| Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war, |
| And shame thine honourable age with blood? |
| Why art thou old, and want'st experience? |
| Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it? |
| For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me, |
| That bows unto the grave with mickle age. |
| Sal. My lord, I have consider'd with myself |
| The title of this most renowned duke; |
| And in my conscience do repute his Grace |
| The rightful heir to England's royal seat. |
| K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me? |
| Sal. I have. |
| K. Hen. Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath? |
| Sal. It is great sin to swear unto a sin, |
| But greater sin to keep a sinful oath. |
| Who can be bound by any solemn vow |
| To do a murderous deed, to rob a man, |
| To force a spotless virgin's chastity, |
| To reave the orphan of his patrimony, |
| To wring the widow from her custom'd right, |
| And have no other reason for this wrong |
| But that he was bound by a solemn oath? |
| Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister. |
| K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. |
| York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast, |
| I am resolv'd for death, or dignity. |
| Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. |
| War. You were best to go to bed and dream again, |
| To keep thee from the tempest of the field. |
| Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm |
| Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; |
| And that I'll write upon thy burgonet, |
| Might I but know thee by thy household badge. |
| War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest, |
| The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff, |
| This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,— |
| As on a mountain-top the cedar shows, |
| That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,— |
| Even to affright thee with the view thereof. |
| Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear, |
| And tread it underfoot with all contempt, |
| Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear. |
| Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father, |
| To quell the rebels and their complices. |
| Rich. Fie! charity! for shame! speak not in spite, |
| For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. |
| Y. Clif. Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell. |
| Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. [Exeunt severally. |
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