Henry VI, Part III William Shakespeare (books to read to get smarter .TXT) 📖

of Norfolk,
And tell him privily of our intent.
You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise:
In them I trust; for they are soldiers,
Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
While you are thus employ’d, what resteth more,
But that I seek occasion how to rise,
And yet the king not privy to my drift,
Nor any of the house of Lancaster? Enter a Messenger. But, stay: what news? Why comest thou in such post? Messenger

The queen with all the northern earls and lords
Intend here to besiege you in your castle:
She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.

York

Ay, with my sword. What! think’st thou that we fear them?
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
My brother Montague shall post to London:
Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
Whom we have left protectors of the king,
With powerful policy strengthen themselves,
And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.

Montague

Brother, I go; I’ll win them, fear it not:
And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exit.

Enter Sir John Mortimer and Sir Hugh Mortimer. York

Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles,
You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
The army of the queen mean to besiege us.

Sir John She shall not need; we’ll meet her in the field. York What, with five thousand men? Richard

Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need:
A woman’s general; what should we fear? A march afar off.

Edward

I hear their drums: let’s set our men in order,
And issue forth and bid them battle straight.

York

Five men to twenty! though the odds be great,
I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
Many a battle have I won in France,
When as the enemy hath been ten to one:
Why should I not now have the like success? Alarum. Exeunt.

Scene III

Field of battle betwixt Sandal Castle and Wakefield.

Alarums. Enter Rutland and his Tutor. Rutland

Ah, whither shall I fly to ’scape their hands?
Ah, tutor, look where bloody Clifford comes!

Enter Clifford and Soldiers. Clifford

Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.
As for the brat of this accursed duke,
Whose father slew my father, he shall die.

Tutor And I, my lord, will bear him company. Clifford Soldiers, away with him! Tutor

Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
Lest thou be hated both of God and man! Exit, dragged off by Soldiers.

Clifford

How now! is he dead already? or is it fear
That makes him close his eyes? I’ll open them.

Rutland

So looks the pent-up lion o’er the wretch
That trembles under his devouring paws;
And so he walks, insulting o’er his prey,
And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threatening look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath:
Be thou revenged on men, and let me live.

Clifford

In vain thou speak’st, poor boy; my father’s blood
Hath stopp’d the passage where thy words should enter.

Rutland

Then let my father’s blood open it again:
He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clifford

Had thy brethren here, their lives and thine
Were not revenge sufficient for me;
No, if I digg’d up thy forefathers’ graves
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York
Is as a fury to torment my soul;
And till I root out their accursed line
And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
Therefore⁠—Lifting his hand.

Rutland

O, let me pray before I take my death!
To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!

Clifford Such pity as my rapier’s point affords. Rutland I never did thee harm: why wilt thou slay me? Clifford Thy father hath. Rutland

But ’twas ere I was born.
Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me,
Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
He be as miserably slain as I.
Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
And when I give occasion of offence,
Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.

Clifford

No cause!
Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. Stabs him.

Rutland Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! Dies. Clifford

Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet!
And this thy son’s blood cleaving to my blade
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
Congeal’d with this, do make me wipe off both. Exit.

Scene IV

Another part of the field.

Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of York. York

The army of the queen hath got the field:
My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;
And all my followers to the eager foe
Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind
Or lambs pursued by hunger-starved wolves.
My sons, God knows what hath bechanced them:
But this I know, they have demean’d themselves
Like men born to renown by life or death.
Three times did Richard make a lane to me,
And thrice cried “Courage, father! fight it out!”
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
With purple falchion, painted to the hilt
In blood of those that had encounter’d him:
And when the hardiest warriors did retire,
Richard cried “Charge! and give no foot of ground!”
And cried “A crown, or else a glorious tomb!
A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!”
With this, we charged again: but, out, alas!
We bodged again; as I have seen a swan
With bootless labour swim against the tide
And spend her strength with over-matching waves. A short alarum within.
Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue;
And I am faint and cannot fly their fury:
And were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
The sands are number’d that make up my life;
Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

Enter Queen Margaret, Clifford, Northumberland, the young Prince, and Soldiers.

Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage:
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

Northumberland Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. Clifford

Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm,
With downright payment, show’d unto my father.
Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his