I wonder how the King escaped our hands.

While we pursued the horsemen of the north,

He slyly stole away and left his men;

Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,

Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,

Cheered up the drooping army; and himself,

Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all abreast,

Charged our main battle’s front, and breaking in,

Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.

Lord Stafford’s father, Duke of Buckingham,

Is either slain or wounded dangerous;

I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.

That this is true, father, behold his blood.

And, brother, here’s the Earl of Wiltshire’s blood,

Whom I encountered as the battles joined.

Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did.

Richard hath best deserved of all my sons.

But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?

Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt!

Thus do I hope to shake King Henry’s head.

And so do I. Victorious Prince of York,

Before I see thee seated in that throne

Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,

I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.

This is the palace of the fearful king,

And this the regal seat. Possess it, York,

For this is thine, and not King Henry’s heirs’.

Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will;

For hither we have broken in by force.

We’ll all assist you; he that flies shall die.

Thanks, gentle Norfolk. Stay by me, my lords;

And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night.

And when the King comes, offer him no violence,

Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.

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.

Armed as we are, let’s stay within this house.

The bloody parliament shall this be called,

Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king,

And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice

Hath made us bywords to our enemies.

Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute.

I mean to take possession of my right.

Neither the King, nor he that loves him best,

The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,

Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells.

I’ll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares.

Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmoreland,

Exeter and the rest, all wearing the red rose.

My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits,

Even in the chair of state! Belike he means,

Backed by the power of Warwick, that false peer,

To aspire unto the crown and reign as king.

Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father,

And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vowed revenge

On him, his sons, his favourites, and his friends.

If I be not, heavens be revenged on me!

The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.

What, shall we suffer this? Let’s pluck him down.

My heart for anger burns. I cannot brook it.

Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmoreland.

Patience is for poltroons, such as he.

He durst not sit there had your father lived.

My gracious lord, here in the parliament

Let us assail the family of York.

Well hast thou spoken, cousin. Be it so.

Ah, know you not the city favours them,

And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?

But when the Duke is slain, they’ll quickly fly.

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.

Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne,

And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet;

I am thy sovereign.

I am thine.

For shame, come down. He made thee Duke of York.

’Twas my inheritance, as the earldom was.

Thy father was a traitor to the crown.

Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown

In following this usurping Henry.

Whom should he follow but his natural king?

True, Clifford, that’s Richard, Duke of York.

And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne?

It must and shall be so. Content thyself.

Be Duke of Lancaster. Let him be king.

He is both King and Duke of Lancaster;

And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.

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.

Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief;

And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.

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.

Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words,

I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger

As shall revenge his death before I stir.

Poor Clifford, how I scorn his worthless threats!

Will you we show our title to the crown?

If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.

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.

Talk not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.

The Lord Protector lost it, and not I.

When I was crowned I was but nine months old.

You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose.

Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head.

Sweet father, do so; set it on your head.

Good brother, as thou lov’st and honourest arms,

Let’s fight it out and not stand cavilling thus.

Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly.

Sons, peace!

Peace thou, and give King Henry leave to speak.

Plantagenet shall speak first. Hear him, lords,

And be you silent and attentive too,

For he that interrupts him shall not live.

Think’st thou that I will leave my kingly throne,

Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?

No. First shall war unpeople this my realm;

Ay, and their colours, often borne in France,

And now in England, to our heart’s great sorrow,

Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords?

My title’s good, and better far than his.

Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be king.

Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.

’Twas by rebellion against his king.

[_Aside_.] I know not what to say; my title’s weak.

Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?

What then?

An if he may, then am I lawful king;

For Richard, in the view of many lords,

Resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth,

Whose heir my father was, and I am his.

He rose against him, being his sovereign,

And made him to resign his crown perforce.

Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrained,

Think you ’twere prejudicial to his crown?

No, for he could not so resign his crown

But that the next heir should succeed and reign.

Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?

His is the right, and therefore pardon me.

Why whisper you, my lords, and answer not?

My conscience tells me he is lawful king.

[_Aside_.] All will revolt from me and turn to him.

Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay’st,

Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.

Deposed he shall be, in despite of all.

Thou art deceived. ’Tis not thy southern power,

Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,

Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,

Can set the Duke up in despite of me.

King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,

Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence.

May that ground gape and swallow me alive,

Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father!

O Clifford, how thy words revive my heart!

Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.

What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?

Do right unto this princely Duke of York,

Or I will fill the house with armed men,

And over the chair of state where now he sits,

Write up his title with usurping blood.

My Lord of Warwick, hear but one word:

Let me for this my lifetime reign as king.

Confirm the crown to me, and to mine heirs,

And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou liv’st.

I am content. Richard Plantagenet,

Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.

What wrong is this unto the Prince your son!

What good is this to England and himself!

Base, fearful, and despairing Henry!

How hast thou injured both thyself and us!

I cannot stay to hear these articles.

Nor I.

Come, cousin, let us tell the Queen these news.

Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king,

In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.

Be thou a prey unto the house of York,

And die in bands for this unmanly deed!

In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,

Or live in peace abandoned and despised!

Turn this way, Henry, and regard them not.

They seek revenge, and therefore will not yield.

Ah, Exeter!

Why should you sigh, my lord?

Not for myself, Lord Warwick, but my son,

Whom I unnaturally shall disinherit.

But be it as it may, [_To York._] I here entail

The crown to thee and to thine heirs for ever;

Conditionally, that here thou take an oath

To cease this civil war, and whilst I live,

To honour me as thy king and sovereign,

And neither by treason nor hostility

To seek to put me down and reign thyself.

This oath I willingly take and will perform.

Long live King Henry! Plantagenet, embrace him.

And long live thou, and these thy forward sons!

Now York and Lancaster are reconciled.

Accursed be he that seeks to make them foes!

Sennet. Here they come down.

Farewell, my gracious lord. I’ll to my castle.

And I’ll keep London with my soldiers.

And I to Norfolk with my followers.

And I unto the sea from whence I came.

[_Exeunt York and his Sons, Warwick, Norfolk, Montague and their

Soldiers._]

And I with grief and sorrow to the court.

Here comes the Queen, whose looks bewray her anger.

I’ll steal away.

Exeter, so will I.

Nay, go not from me; I will follow thee.

Be patient, gentle Queen, and I will stay.

Who can be patient in such extremes?

Ah, wretched man, would I had died a maid,

And never seen thee, never borne thee son,

Seeing thou hast proved so unnatural a father.

Hath he deserved to lose his birthright thus?

Hadst thou but loved him half so well as I,

Or felt that pain which I did for him once,

Or nourished him as I did with my blood,

Thou wouldst have left thy dearest heart-blood there,

Rather than have made that savage duke thine heir

And disinherited thine only son.

Father, you cannot disinherit me.

If you be king, why should not I succeed?

Pardon me, Margaret; pardon me, sweet son.

The Earl of Warwick and the Duke enforced me.

Enforced thee! Art thou King, and wilt be forced?

I shame to hear thee speak. Ah, timorous wretch,

Thou hast undone thyself, thy son, and me,

And given unto the house of York such head

As thou shalt reign but by their sufferance.

To entail him and his heirs unto the crown,

What is it but to make thy sepulchre

And creep into it far before thy time?

Warwick is Chancellor and the lord of Calais;

Stern Falconbridge commands the narrow seas;

The Duke is made Protector of the realm;

And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safety finds

The trembling lamb environed with wolves.

Had I been there, which am a silly woman,

The soldiers should have tossed me on their pikes

Before I would have granted to that act.

But thou prefer’st thy life before thine honour.

And seeing thou dost, I here divorce myself

Both from thy table, Henry, and thy bed,

Until that act of parliament be repealed

Whereby my son is disinherited.

The northern lords that have forsworn thy colours

Will follow mine if once they see them spread;

And spread they shall be, to thy foul disgrace

And utter ruin of the house of York.

Thus do I leave thee. Come, son, let’s away:

Our army is ready; come, we’ll after them.

Stay, gentle Margaret, and hear me speak.

Thou hast spoke too much already. Get thee gone.

Gentle son Edward, thou wilt stay with me?

Ay, to be murdered by his enemies.

When I return with victory from the field

I’ll see your Grace. Till then I’ll follow her.

Come, son, away; we may not linger thus.

Poor queen! How love to me and to her son

Hath made her break out into terms of rage!

Revenged may she be on that hateful Duke,

Whose haughty spirit, winged with desire,

Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle

Tire on the flesh of me and of my son.

The loss of those three lords torments my heart.

I’ll write unto them and entreat them fair.

Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.

And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.