Another Part of the Field. |
|
Alarum. Enter KING HENRY. |
K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's war, |
When dying clouds contend with growing light, |
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, |
Can neither call it perfect day nor night. |
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea |
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind; |
Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea |
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind: |
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; |
Now one the better, then another best; |
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, |
Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: |
So is the equal poise of this fell war. |
Here on this molehill will I sit me down. |
To whom God will, there be the victory! |
For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, |
Have chid me from the battle; swearing both |
They prosper best of all when I am thence. |
Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; |
For what is in this world but grief and woe? |
O God! methinks it were a happy life, |
To be no better than a homely swain; |
To sit upon a hill, as I do now, |
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, |
Thereby to see the minutes how they run, |
How many make the hour full complete; |
How many hours bring about the day; |
How many days will finish up the year; |
How many years a mortal man may live. |
When this is known, then to divide the times: |
So many hours must I tend my flock; |
So many hours must I take my rest; |
So many hours must I contemplate; |
So many hours must I sport myself; |
So many days my ewes have been with young; |
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean; |
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: |
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, |
Pass'd over to the end they were created, |
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. |
Ah! what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! |
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade |
To shepherds, looking on their silly sheep, |
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy |
To kings, that fear their subjects' treachery? |
O, yes! it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. |
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, |
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle, |
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, |
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, |
Is far beyond a prince's delicates, |
His viands sparkling in a golden cup, |
His body couched in a curious bed, |
When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him. |
|
Alarum. Enter a Son that hath killed his Father, with the dead body. |
Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. |
This man whom hand to hand I slew in fight, |
May be possessed with some store of crowns; |
And I, that haply take them from him now, |
May yet ere night yield both my life and them |
To some man else, as this dead man doth me. |
Who's this? O God! it is my father's face, |
Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. |
O heavy times, begetting such events! |
From London by the king was I press'd forth; |
My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, |
Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; |
And I, who at his hands receiv'd my life, |
Have by my hands of life bereaved him. |
Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! |
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! |
My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; |
And no more words till they have flow'd their fill. |
K. Hen. O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! |
Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, |
Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. |
Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; |
And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, |
Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with grief. |
|
Enter a Father that hath killed his Son, with the body in his arms. |
Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, |
Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold, |
For I have bought it with a hundred blows. |
But let me see: is this our foeman's face? |
Ah! no, no, no, it is mine only son. |
Ah! boy, if any life be left in thee, |
Throw up thine eye: see, see! what showers arise, |
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, |
Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart. |
O! pity, God, this miserable age. |
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, |
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural, |
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! |
O boy! thy father gave thee life too soon, |
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late. |
K. Hen. Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! |
O! that my death would stay these ruthful deeds. |
O! pity, pity; gentle heaven, pity. |
The red rose and the white are on his face, |
The fatal colours of our striving houses: |
The one his purple blood right well resembles; |
The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth: |
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish! |
If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. |
Son. How will my mother for a father's death |
Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! |
Fath. How will my wife for slaughter of my son |
Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied! |
K. Hen. How will the country for these woeful chances |
Misthink the king and not be satisfied! |
Son. Was ever son so ru'd a father's death? |
Fath. Was ever father so bemoan'd a son? |
K. Hen. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects' woe? |
Much is your sorrow; mine, ten times so much. |
Son. I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. [Exit with the body. |
Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; |
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, |
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go: |
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; |
And so obsequious will thy father be, |
E'en for the loss of thee, having no more, |
As Priam was for all his valiant sons. |
I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, |
For I have murder'd where I should not kill. [Exit with the body. |
K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, |
Here sits a king more woeful than you are. |
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Alarum. Excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE OF WALES, and EXETER. |
Prince. Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, |
And Warwick rages like a chafed bull. |
Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. |
Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain. |
Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds |
Having the fearful flying hare in sight, |
With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, |
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, |
Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. |
Exe. Away! for vengeance comes along with them. |
Nay, stay not to expostulate; make speed, |
Or else come after: I'll away before. |
K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter: |
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go |
Whither the queen intends. Forward! away! [Exeunt. |
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