It is hard to imagine a world without Shakespeare. Since their composition four hundred years ago, Shakespeare’s plays and poems have traveled the globe, inviting those who see and read his works to make them their own.
Readers of the New Folger Editions are part of this ongoing process of “taking up Shakespeare,” finding our own thoughts and feelings in language that strikes us as old or unusual and, for that very reason, new. We still struggle to keep up with a writer who could think a mile a minute, whose words paint pictures that shift like clouds. These expertly edited texts are presented to the public as a resource for study, artistic adaptation, and enjoyment. By making the classic texts of the New Folger Editions available in electronic form as The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), we place a trusted resource in the hands of anyone who wants them.
The New Folger Editions of Shakespeare’s plays, which are the basis for the texts realized here in digital form, are special because of their origin. The Folger Shakespeare Library in Washington, DC, is the single greatest documentary source of Shakespeare’s works. An unparalleled collection of early modern books, manuscripts, and artwork connected to Shakespeare, the Folger’s holdings have been consulted extensively in the preparation of these texts. The Editions also reflect the expertise gained through the regular performance of Shakespeare’s works in the Folger’s Elizabethan Theatre.
I want to express my deep thanks to editors Barbara Mowat and Paul Werstine for creating these indispensable editions of Shakespeare’s works, which incorporate the best of textual scholarship with a richness of commentary that is both inspired and engaging. Readers who want to know more about Shakespeare and his plays can follow the paths these distinguished scholars have tread by visiting the Folger either in-person or online, where a range of physical and digital resources exists to supplement the material in these texts. I commend to you these words, and hope that they inspire.
Michael Witmore
Director, Folger Shakespeare Library
Until now, with the release of The Folger Shakespeare (formerly Folger Digital Texts), readers in search of a free online text of Shakespeare’s plays had to be content primarily with using the Moby™ Text, which reproduces a late-nineteenth century version of the plays. What is the difference? Many ordinary readers assume that there is a single text for the plays: what Shakespeare wrote. But Shakespeare’s plays were not published the way modern novels or plays are published today: as a single, authoritative text. In some cases, the plays have come down to us in multiple published versions, represented by various Quartos (Qq) and by the great collection put together by his colleagues in 1623, called the First Folio (F). There are, for example, three very different versions of
Hamlet
, two of
King Lear
,
Henry V
,
Romeo and Juliet
, and others. Editors choose which version to use as their base text, and then amend that text with words, lines or speech prefixes from the other versions that, in their judgment, make for a better or more accurate text.
Other editorial decisions involve choices about whether an unfamiliar word could be understood in light of other writings of the period or whether it should be changed; decisions about words that made it into Shakespeare’s text by accident through four hundred years of printings and misprinting; and even decisions based on cultural preference and taste. When the Moby™ Text was created, for example, it was deemed “improper” and “indecent” for Miranda to chastise Caliban for having attempted to rape her. (See
The Tempest
, 1.2: “Abhorred slave,/Which any print of goodness wilt not take,/Being capable of all ill! I pitied thee…”). All Shakespeare editors at the time took the speech away from her and gave it to her father, Prospero.
The editors of the Moby™ Shakespeare produced their text long before scholars fully understood the proper grounds on which to make the thousands of decisions that Shakespeare editors face. The Folger Library Shakespeare Editions, on which the Folger Shakespeare texts depend, make this editorial process as nearly transparent as is possible, in contrast to older texts, like the Moby™, which hide editorial interventions. The reader of the Folger Shakespeare knows where the text has been altered because editorial interventions are signaled by square brackets (for example, from
Othello
: “
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If she in chains of magic were not bound,
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”), half-square brackets (for example, from
Henry V
: “With
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blood
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and sword and fire to win your right,”), or angle brackets (for example, from
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: “O farewell, honest
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Who hath relieved/you?”). At any point in the text, you can hover your cursor over a bracket for more information.
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With a weak, unworldly king on the throne, the English nobility heightens its struggle for power in
Henry VI, Part 2
, leading to the brink of civil war.
At the start of the play, Henry meets his new bride, Margaret, to whom he has been married by proxy through Suffolk, her lover. Henry’s popular and powerful uncle Gloucester, the Lord Protector, soon comes under attack by Margaret, Suffolk, Cardinal Beaufort, and others.
Gloucester’s wife is shamed and exiled and Gloucester himself removed from office, then murdered on Suffolk’s orders. Suffolk is banished, captured by pirates, and killed. Meanwhile, the cardinal dies, raving in madness because of his part in Gloucester’s death.
A Kentish rebel, Jack Cade, leads a short-lived revolt, seizing London before his supporters desert him. He dies fighting in a garden. Soon another revolt emerges: Richard, Duke of York, leads an army against King Henry, who flees back to London. As the play ends, Richard’s forces also move toward London.
ACT
1
Scene
1
Flourish
of
trumpets
,
then
hautboys
.
Enter
King
Henry
,
Duke
Humphrey
of
Gloucester
,
Salisbury
,
Warwick
,
and
Cardinal
Beaufort
,
on
the
one
side
;
Queen
Margaret
,
Suffolk
,
York
,
Somerset
,
and
Buckingham
,
on
the
other
.
As
by
your
high
imperial
Majesty
I
had
in
charge
at
my
depart
for
France
,
As
procurator
to
your
Excellence
,
To
marry
Princess
Margaret
for
your
Grace
,
So
,
in
the
famous
ancient
city
Tours
,
In
presence
of
the
Kings
of
France
and
Sicil
,
The
Dukes
of
Orleance
,
Calaber
,
Britaigne
,
and
Alanson
,
Seven
earls
,
twelve
barons
,
and
twenty
reverend
bishops
,
I
have
performed
my
task
and
was
espoused
;
He
kneels
.
And
humbly
now
upon
my
bended
knee
,
In
sight
of
England
and
her
lordly
peers
,
Deliver
up
my
title
in
the
Queen
To
your
most
gracious
hands
,
that
are
the
substance
Of
that
great
shadow
I
did
represent
:
The
happiest
gift
that
ever
marquess
gave
,
The
fairest
queen
that
ever
king
received
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Suffolk
,
arise
.
—
Welcome
,
Queen
Margaret
.
Suffolk
rises
.
I
can
express
no
kinder
sign
of
love
Than
this
kind
kiss
.
He
kisses
her
.
O
Lord
,
that
lends
me
life
,
Lend
me
a
heart
replete
with
thankfulness
!
For
Thou
hast
given
me
in
this
beauteous
face
A
world
of
earthly
blessings
to
my
soul
,
If
sympathy
of
love
unite
our
thoughts
.
Great
king
of
England
and
my
gracious
lord
,
The
mutual
conference
that
my
mind
hath
had
By
day
,
by
night
,
waking
and
in
my
dreams
,
In
courtly
company
or
at
my
beads
,
With
you
,
mine
alderliefest
sovereign
,
Makes
me
the
bolder
to
salute
my
king
With
ruder
terms
,
such
as
my
wit
affords
And
overjoy
of
heart
doth
minister
.
Her
sight
did
ravish
,
but
her
grace
in
speech
,
Her
words
yclad
with
wisdom’s
majesty
,
Makes
me
from
wond’ring
fall
to
weeping
joys
,
Such
is
the
fullness
of
my
heart’s
content
.
Lords
,
with
one
cheerful
voice
welcome
my
love
.
kneel
.
Long
live
Queen
Margaret
,
England’s
happiness
!
We
thank
you
all
.
Flourish
.
All
rise
.
,
to
Gloucester
My
Lord
Protector
,
so
it
please
your
Grace
,
Here
are
the
articles
of
contracted
peace
Between
our
sovereign
and
the
French
king
Charles
,
For
eighteen
months
concluded
by
consent
.
He
hands
Gloucester
a
paper
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
(
reads
)
Imprimis
,
it
is
agreed
between
the
French
king
Charles
and
William
de
la
Pole
,
Marquess
of
Suffolk
,
ambassador
for
Henry
,
King
of
England
,
that
the
said
Henry
shall
espouse
the
Lady
Margaret
,
daughter
unto
Reignier
,
King
of
Naples
,
Sicilia
,
and
Jerusalem
,
and
crown
her
Queen
of
England
ere
the
thirtieth
of
May
next
ensuing
.
Item
,
that
the
duchy
of
Anjou
and
the
county
of
Maine
shall
be
released
and
delivered
to
the
King
her
father
—
He
drops
the
paper
.
Uncle
,
how
now
?
Pardon
me
,
gracious
lord
.
Some
sudden
qualm
hath
struck
me
at
the
heart
And
dimmed
mine
eyes
,
that
I
can
read
no
further
.
Uncle
of
Winchester
,
I
pray
read
on
.
picks
up
the
paper
and
reads
Item
,
it
is
further
agreed
between
them
that
the
duchies
of
Anjou
and
Maine
shall
be
released
and
delivered
to
the
King
her
father
,
and
she
sent
over
of
the
King
of
England’s
own
proper
cost
and
charges
,
without
having
any
dowry
.
They
please
us
well
.
—
Lord
Marquess
,
kneel
down
.
Suffolk
kneels
.
We
here
create
thee
the
first
Duke
of
Suffolk
And
girt
thee
with
the
sword
.
Suffolk
rises
.
Cousin
of
York
,
We
here
discharge
your
Grace
from
being
regent
I’
th’
parts
of
France
till
term
of
eighteen
months
Be
full
expired
.
—
Thanks
,
Uncle
Winchester
,
Gloucester
,
York
,
Buckingham
,
Somerset
,
Salisbury
,
and
Warwick
;
We
thank
you
all
for
this
great
favor
done
In
entertainment
to
my
princely
queen
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Come
,
let
us
in
,
and
with
all
speed
provide
To
see
her
coronation
be
performed
.
King
,
Queen
,
and
Suffolk
exit
.
The
rest
remain
.
Brave
peers
of
England
,
pillars
of
the
state
,
To
you
Duke
Humphrey
must
unload
his
grief
,
Your
grief
,
the
common
grief
of
all
the
land
.
What
,
did
my
brother
Henry
spend
his
youth
,
His
valor
,
coin
,
and
people
in
the
wars
?
Did
he
so
often
lodge
in
open
field
,
In
winter’s
cold
and
summer’s
parching
heat
,
To
conquer
France
,
his
true
inheritance
?
And
did
my
brother
Bedford
toil
his
wits
To
keep
by
policy
what
Henry
got
?
Have
you
yourselves
,
Somerset
,
Buckingham
,
Brave
York
,
Salisbury
,
and
victorious
Warwick
,
Received
deep
scars
in
France
and
Normandy
?
Or
hath
mine
uncle
Beaufort
and
myself
,
With
all
the
learnèd
council
of
the
realm
,
Studied
so
long
,
sat
in
the
Council
House
,
Early
and
late
,
debating
to
and
fro
How
France
and
Frenchmen
might
be
kept
in
awe
,
And
had
his
Highness
in
his
infancy
Crowned
in
Paris
in
despite
of
foes
?
And
shall
these
labors
and
these
honors
die
?
Shall
Henry’s
conquest
,
Bedford’s
vigilance
,
Your
deeds
of
war
,
and
all
our
counsel
die
?
O
peers
of
England
,
shameful
is
this
league
,
Fatal
this
marriage
,
cancelling
your
fame
,
Blotting
your
names
from
books
of
memory
,
Razing
the
characters
of
your
renown
,
Defacing
monuments
of
conquered
France
,
Undoing
all
,
as
all
had
never
been
!
Nephew
,
what
means
this
passionate
discourse
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
This
peroration
with
such
circumstance
?
For
France
,
’tis
ours
,
and
we
will
keep
it
still
.
Ay
,
uncle
,
we
will
keep
it
if
we
can
,
But
now
it
is
impossible
we
should
.
Suffolk
,
the
new-made
duke
that
rules
the
roast
,
Hath
given
the
duchy
of
Anjou
and
Maine
Unto
the
poor
King
Reignier
,
whose
large
style
Agrees
not
with
the
leanness
of
his
purse
.
Now
,
by
the
death
of
Him
that
died
for
all
,
These
counties
were
the
keys
of
Normandy
.
But
wherefore
weeps
Warwick
,
my
valiant
son
?
For
grief
that
they
are
past
recovery
;
For
,
were
there
hope
to
conquer
them
again
,
My
sword
should
shed
hot
blood
,
mine
eyes
no
tears
.
Anjou
and
Maine
?
Myself
did
win
them
both
!
Those
provinces
these
arms
of
mine
did
conquer
.
And
are
the
cities
that
I
got
with
wounds
Delivered
up
again
with
peaceful
words
?
Mort
Dieu
!
For
Suffolk’s
duke
,
may
he
be
suffocate
That
dims
the
honor
of
this
warlike
isle
!
France
should
have
torn
and
rent
my
very
heart
Before
I
would
have
yielded
to
this
league
.
I
never
read
but
England’s
kings
have
had
Large
sums
of
gold
and
dowries
with
their
wives
;
And
our
King
Henry
gives
away
his
own
To
match
with
her
that
brings
no
vantages
.
A
proper
jest
,
and
never
heard
before
,
That
Suffolk
should
demand
a
whole
fifteenth
For
costs
and
charges
in
transporting
her
!
ACT 1. SC. 1
She
should
have
stayed
in
France
and
starved
in
France
Before
—
My
lord
of
Gloucester
,
now
you
grow
too
hot
.
It
was
the
pleasure
of
my
lord
the
King
.
My
lord
of
Winchester
,
I
know
your
mind
.
’Tis
not
my
speeches
that
you
do
mislike
,
But
’tis
my
presence
that
doth
trouble
you
.
Rancor
will
out
.
Proud
prelate
,
in
thy
face
I
see
thy
fury
.
If
I
longer
stay
,
We
shall
begin
our
ancient
bickerings
.
—
Lordings
,
farewell
;
and
say
,
when
I
am
gone
,
I
prophesied
France
will
be
lost
ere
long
.
Gloucester
exits
.
So
,
there
goes
our
Protector
in
a
rage
.
’Tis
known
to
you
he
is
mine
enemy
,
Nay
,
more
,
an
enemy
unto
you
all
,
And
no
great
friend
,
I
fear
me
,
to
the
King
.
Consider
,
lords
,
he
is
the
next
of
blood
And
heir
apparent
to
the
English
crown
.
Had
Henry
got
an
empire
by
his
marriage
,
And
all
the
wealthy
kingdoms
of
the
West
,
There’s
reason
he
should
be
displeased
at
it
.
Look
to
it
,
lords
.
Let
not
his
smoothing
words
Bewitch
your
hearts
;
be
wise
and
circumspect
.
What
though
the
common
people
favor
him
,
Calling
him
Humphrey
,
the
good
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
Clapping
their
hands
and
crying
with
loud
voice
Jesu
maintain
your
royal
Excellence
!
With
God
preserve
the
good
Duke
Humphrey
!
I
fear
me
,
lords
,
for
all
this
flattering
gloss
,
He
will
be
found
a
dangerous
Protector
.
ACT 1. SC. 1
Why
should
he
,
then
,
protect
our
sovereign
,
He
being
of
age
to
govern
of
himself
?
—
Cousin
of
Somerset
,
join
you
with
me
,
And
all
together
,
with
the
Duke
of
Suffolk
,
We’ll
quickly
hoise
Duke
Humphrey
from
his
seat
.
This
weighty
business
will
not
brook
delay
.
I’ll
to
the
Duke
of
Suffolk
presently
.
Cardinal
exits
.
Cousin
of
Buckingham
,
though
Humphrey’s
pride
And
greatness
of
his
place
be
grief
to
us
,
Yet
let
us
watch
the
haughty
cardinal
.
His
insolence
is
more
intolerable
Than
all
the
princes’
in
the
land
besides
.
If
Gloucester
be
displaced
,
he’ll
be
Protector
.
Or
thou
or
I
,
Somerset
,
will
be
Protector
,
Despite
Duke
Humphrey
or
the
Cardinal
.
Buckingham
and
Somerset
exit
.
Pride
went
before
;
Ambition
follows
him
.
While
these
do
labor
for
their
own
preferment
,
Behooves
it
us
to
labor
for
the
realm
.
I
never
saw
but
Humphrey
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
Did
bear
him
like
a
noble
gentleman
.
Oft
have
I
seen
the
haughty
cardinal
,
More
like
a
soldier
than
a
man
o’
th’
Church
,
As
stout
and
proud
as
he
were
lord
of
all
,
Swear
like
a
ruffian
and
demean
himself
Unlike
the
ruler
of
a
commonweal
.
—
Warwick
,
my
son
,
the
comfort
of
my
age
,
Thy
deeds
,
thy
plainness
,
and
thy
housekeeping
Hath
won
the
greatest
favor
of
the
Commons
,
Excepting
none
but
good
Duke
Humphrey
.
—
And
,
brother
York
,
thy
acts
in
Ireland
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
In
bringing
them
to
civil
discipline
,
Thy
late
exploits
done
in
the
heart
of
France
,
When
thou
wert
regent
for
our
sovereign
,
Have
made
thee
feared
and
honored
of
the
people
.
Join
we
together
for
the
public
good
In
what
we
can
to
bridle
and
suppress
The
pride
of
Suffolk
and
the
Cardinal
,
With
Somerset’s
and
Buckingham’s
ambition
;
And
,
as
we
may
,
cherish
Duke
Humphrey’s
deeds
While
they
do
tend
the
profit
of
the
land
.
So
God
help
Warwick
,
as
he
loves
the
land
And
common
profit
of
his
country
!
And
so
says
York
—
aside
for
he
hath
greatest
cause
.
Then
let’s
make
haste
away
and
look
unto
the
main
.
Unto
the
main
?
O
father
,
Maine
is
lost
!
That
Maine
which
by
main
force
Warwick
did
win
And
would
have
kept
so
long
as
breath
did
last
!
Main
chance
,
father
,
you
meant
;
but
I
meant
Maine
,
Which
I
will
win
from
France
or
else
be
slain
.
Warwick
and
Salisbury
exit
.
York
remains
.
Anjou
and
Maine
are
given
to
the
French
;
Paris
is
lost
;
the
state
of
Normandy
Stands
on
a
tickle
point
now
they
are
gone
.
Suffolk
concluded
on
the
articles
,
The
peers
agreed
,
and
Henry
was
well
pleased
To
change
two
dukedoms
for
a
duke’s
fair
daughter
.
I
cannot
blame
them
all
.
What
is
’t
to
them
?
’Tis
thine
they
give
away
,
and
not
their
own
.
Pirates
may
make
cheap
pennyworths
of
their
pillage
,
ACT 1. SC. 1
And
purchase
friends
,
and
give
to
courtesans
,
Still
reveling
like
lords
till
all
be
gone
;
Whileas
the
silly
owner
of
the
goods
Weeps
over
them
,
and
wrings
his
hapless
hands
,
And
shakes
his
head
,
and
trembling
stands
aloof
,
While
all
is
shared
and
all
is
borne
away
,
Ready
to
starve
,
and
dare
not
touch
his
own
.
So
York
must
sit
and
fret
and
bite
his
tongue
While
his
own
lands
are
bargained
for
and
sold
.
Methinks
the
realms
of
England
,
France
,
and
Ireland
Bear
that
proportion
to
my
flesh
and
blood
As
did
the
fatal
brand
Althaea
burnt
Unto
the
Prince’s
heart
of
Calydon
.
Anjou
and
Maine
both
given
unto
the
French
!
Cold
news
for
me
,
for
I
had
hope
of
France
,
Even
as
I
have
of
fertile
England’s
soil
.
A
day
will
come
when
York
shall
claim
his
own
;
And
therefore
I
will
take
the
Nevilles’
parts
And
make
a
show
of
love
to
proud
Duke
Humphrey
,
And
,
when
I
spy
advantage
,
claim
the
crown
,
For
that’s
the
golden
mark
I
seek
to
hit
.
Nor
shall
proud
Lancaster
usurp
my
right
,
Nor
hold
the
scepter
in
his
childish
fist
,
Nor
wear
the
diadem
upon
his
head
,
Whose
churchlike
humors
fits
not
for
a
crown
.
Then
,
York
,
be
still
awhile
till
time
do
serve
.
Watch
thou
and
wake
,
when
others
be
asleep
,
To
pry
into
the
secrets
of
the
state
Till
Henry
,
surfeiting
in
joys
of
love
With
his
new
bride
and
England’s
dear-bought
queen
,
And
Humphrey
with
the
peers
be
fall’n
at
jars
.
Then
will
I
raise
aloft
the
milk-white
rose
,
With
whose
sweet
smell
the
air
shall
be
perfumed
,
And
in
my
standard
bear
the
arms
of
York
,
To
grapple
with
the
house
of
Lancaster
;
ACT 1. SC. 2
And
force
perforce
I’ll
make
him
yield
the
crown
,
Whose
bookish
rule
hath
pulled
fair
England
down
.
York
exits
.
Scene
2
Enter
Duke
Humphrey
of
Gloucester
and
his
wife
the
Duchess
Eleanor
.
Why
droops
my
lord
like
over-ripened
corn
Hanging
the
head
at
Ceres’
plenteous
load
?
Why
doth
the
great
Duke
Humphrey
knit
his
brows
,
As
frowning
at
the
favors
of
the
world
?
Why
are
thine
eyes
fixed
to
the
sullen
earth
,
Gazing
on
that
which
seems
to
dim
thy
sight
?
What
seest
thou
there
?
King
Henry’s
diadem
,
Enchased
with
all
the
honors
of
the
world
?
If
so
,
gaze
on
and
grovel
on
thy
face
Until
thy
head
be
circled
with
the
same
.
Put
forth
thy
hand
;
reach
at
the
glorious
gold
.
What
,
is
’t
too
short
?
I’ll
lengthen
it
with
mine
;
And
,
having
both
together
heaved
it
up
,
We’ll
both
together
lift
our
heads
to
heaven
And
never
more
abase
our
sight
so
low
As
to
vouchsafe
one
glance
unto
the
ground
.
O
Nell
,
sweet
Nell
,
if
thou
dost
love
thy
lord
,
Banish
the
canker
of
ambitious
thoughts
!
And
may
that
hour
when
I
imagine
ill
Against
my
king
and
nephew
,
virtuous
Henry
,
Be
my
last
breathing
in
this
mortal
world
!
My
troublous
dreams
this
night
doth
make
me
sad
.
What
dreamed
my
lord
?
Tell
me
,
and
I’ll
requite
it
With
sweet
rehearsal
of
my
morning’s
dream
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Methought
this
staff
,
mine
office
badge
in
court
,
Was
broke
in
twain
—
by
whom
I
have
forgot
,
But
,
as
I
think
,
it
was
by
th’
Cardinal
—
And
on
the
pieces
of
the
broken
wand
Were
placed
the
heads
of
Edmund
,
Duke
of
Somerset
,
And
William
de
la
Pole
,
first
Duke
of
Suffolk
.
This
was
my
dream
.
What
it
doth
bode
God
knows
.
Tut
,
this
was
nothing
but
an
argument
That
he
that
breaks
a
stick
of
Gloucester’s
grove
Shall
lose
his
head
for
his
presumption
.
But
list
to
me
,
my
Humphrey
,
my
sweet
duke
:
Methought
I
sat
in
seat
of
majesty
,
In
the
cathedral
church
of
Westminster
And
in
that
chair
where
kings
and
queens
were
crowned
,
Where
Henry
and
Dame
Margaret
kneeled
to
me
And
on
my
head
did
set
the
diadem
.
Nay
,
Eleanor
,
then
must
I
chide
outright
.
Presumptuous
dame
,
ill-nurtured
Eleanor
,
Art
thou
not
second
woman
in
the
realm
And
the
Protector’s
wife
,
beloved
of
him
?
Hast
thou
not
worldly
pleasure
at
command
,
Above
the
reach
or
compass
of
thy
thought
?
And
wilt
thou
still
be
hammering
treachery
To
tumble
down
thy
husband
and
thyself
From
top
of
honor
to
disgrace’s
feet
?
Away
from
me
,
and
let
me
hear
no
more
!
What
,
what
,
my
lord
?
Are
you
so
choleric
With
Eleanor
for
telling
but
her
dream
?
Next
time
I’ll
keep
my
dreams
unto
myself
And
not
be
checked
.
ACT 1. SC. 2
Nay
,
be
not
angry
.
I
am
pleased
again
.
Enter
Messenger
.
My
Lord
Protector
,
’tis
his
Highness’
pleasure
You
do
prepare
to
ride
unto
Saint
Albans
,
Whereas
the
King
and
Queen
do
mean
to
hawk
.
I
go
.
—
Come
,
Nell
,
thou
wilt
ride
with
us
?
Yes
,
my
good
lord
.
I’ll
follow
presently
.
Gloucester
exits
,
with
Messenger
.
Follow
I
must
;
I
cannot
go
before
While
Gloucester
bears
this
base
and
humble
mind
.
Were
I
a
man
,
a
duke
,
and
next
of
blood
,
I
would
remove
these
tedious
stumbling
blocks
And
smooth
my
way
upon
their
headless
necks
;
And
,
being
a
woman
,
I
will
not
be
slack
To
play
my
part
in
Fortune’s
pageant
.
—
Where
are
you
there
?
Sir
John
!
Nay
,
fear
not
,
man
.
We
are
alone
;
here’s
none
but
thee
and
I
.
Enter
Sir
John
Hume
.
Jesus
preserve
your
royal
Majesty
!
What
sayst
thou
?
Majesty
?
I
am
but
Grace
.
But
by
the
grace
of
God
and
Hume’s
advice
,
Your
Grace’s
title
shall
be
multiplied
.
What
sayst
thou
,
man
?
Hast
thou
as
yet
conferred
With
Margery
Jourdain
,
the
cunning
witch
,
With
Roger
Bolingbroke
,
the
conjurer
?
And
will
they
undertake
to
do
me
good
?
ACT 1. SC. 2
This
they
have
promisèd
:
to
show
your
Highness
A
spirit
raised
from
depth
of
underground
That
shall
make
answer
to
such
questions
As
by
your
Grace
shall
be
propounded
him
.
It
is
enough
.
I’ll
think
upon
the
questions
.
When
from
Saint
Albans
we
do
make
return
,
We’ll
see
these
things
effected
to
the
full
.
Here
,
Hume
,
take
this
reward
.
She
gives
him
money
.
Make
merry
,
man
,
With
thy
confederates
in
this
weighty
cause
.
Duchess
exits
.
Hume
must
make
merry
with
the
Duchess’
gold
.
Marry
,
and
shall
!
But
,
how
now
,
Sir
John
Hume
?
Seal
up
your
lips
,
and
give
no
words
but
mum
;
The
business
asketh
silent
secrecy
.
Dame
Eleanor
gives
gold
to
bring
the
witch
;
Gold
cannot
come
amiss
,
were
she
a
devil
.
Yet
have
I
gold
flies
from
another
coast
—
I
dare
not
say
,
from
the
rich
cardinal
And
from
the
great
and
new-made
Duke
of
Suffolk
,
Yet
I
do
find
it
so
.
For
,
to
be
plain
,
They
,
knowing
Dame
Eleanor’s
aspiring
humor
,
Have
hirèd
me
to
undermine
the
Duchess
And
buzz
these
conjurations
in
her
brain
.
They
say
a
crafty
knave
does
need
no
broker
,
Yet
am
I
Suffolk
and
the
Cardinal’s
broker
.
Hume
,
if
you
take
not
heed
,
you
shall
go
near
To
call
them
both
a
pair
of
crafty
knaves
.
Well
,
so
it
stands
;
and
thus
I
fear
at
last
Hume’s
knavery
will
be
the
Duchess’
wrack
,
And
her
attainture
will
be
Humphrey’s
fall
.
Sort
how
it
will
,
I
shall
have
gold
for
all
.
He
exits
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
Scene
3
Enter
three
or
four
Petitioners
,
Peter
,
the
Armorer’s
man
,
being
one
.
My
masters
,
let’s
stand
close
.
My
Lord
Protector
will
come
this
way
by
and
by
,
and
then
we
may
deliver
our
supplications
in
the
quill
.
Marry
,
the
Lord
protect
him
,
for
he’s
a
good
man
!
Jesu
bless
him
!
Enter
Suffolk
,
wearing
the
red
rose
,
and
Queen
Margaret
.
Here
he
comes
,
methinks
,
and
the
Queen
with
him
.
I’ll
be
the
first
,
sure
.
He
steps
forward
.
Come
back
,
fool
!
This
is
the
Duke
of
Suffolk
,
and
not
my
Lord
Protector
.
How
now
,
fellow
?
Wouldst
anything
with
me
?
I
pray
,
my
lord
,
pardon
me
.
I
took
you
for
my
Lord
Protector
.
takes
a
petition
and
reads
.
To
my
Lord
Protector
.
Are
your
supplications
to
his
Lordship
lordship
?
Let
me
see
them
.
—
What
is
thine
?
Mine
is
,
an
’t
please
your
Grace
,
against
John
Goodman
,
my
Lord
Cardinal’s
man
,
for
keeping
my
house
,
and
lands
,
and
wife
and
all
,
from
me
.
Thy
wife
too
?
That’s
some
wrong
indeed
.
—
What’s
yours
?
Taking
a
petition
.
What’s
here
?
(
Reads
.
)
Against
the
Duke
of
Suffolk
for
enclosing
the
commons
of
Melford
.
How
now
,
sir
knave
?
Alas
,
sir
,
I
am
but
a
poor
petitioner
of
our
whole
township
.
,
showing
his
petition
Against
my
master
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
Thomas
Horner
,
for
saying
that
the
Duke
of
York
was
rightful
heir
to
the
crown
.
What
sayst
thou
?
Did
the
Duke
of
York
say
he
was
rightful
heir
to
the
crown
?
That
my
master
was
?
No
,
forsooth
.
My
master
said
that
he
was
and
that
the
King
was
an
usurper
.
,
calling
Who
is
there
?
Enter
Servant
.
Take
this
fellow
in
,
and
send
for
his
master
with
a
pursuivant
presently
.
—
We’ll
hear
more
of
your
matter
before
the
King
.
Peter
exits
with
Servant
.
And
as
for
you
that
love
to
be
protected
Under
the
wings
of
our
Protector’s
grace
,
Begin
your
suits
anew
,
and
sue
to
him
.
Tear
the
supplication
.
Away
,
base
cullions
.
—
Suffolk
,
let
them
go
.
Come
,
let’s
be
gone
.
They
exit
.
My
lord
of
Suffolk
,
say
,
is
this
the
guise
,
Is
this
the
fashions
in
the
court
of
England
?
Is
this
the
government
of
Britain’s
isle
And
this
the
royalty
of
Albion’s
king
?
What
,
shall
King
Henry
be
a
pupil
still
Under
the
surly
Gloucester’s
governance
?
Am
I
a
queen
in
title
and
in
style
,
And
must
be
made
a
subject
to
a
duke
?
I
tell
thee
,
Pole
,
when
in
the
city
Tours
Thou
rann’st
atilt
in
honor
of
my
love
And
stol’st
away
the
ladies’
hearts
of
France
,
I
thought
King
Henry
had
resembled
thee
In
courage
,
courtship
,
and
proportion
.
But
all
his
mind
is
bent
to
holiness
,
ACT 1. SC. 3
To
number
Ave
Marys
on
his
beads
;
His
champions
are
the
prophets
and
apostles
,
His
weapons
holy
saws
of
sacred
writ
,
His
study
is
his
tiltyard
,
and
his
loves
Are
brazen
images
of
canonized
saints
.
I
would
the
College
of
the
Cardinals
Would
choose
him
pope
and
carry
him
to
Rome
And
set
the
triple
crown
upon
his
head
!
That
were
a
state
fit
for
his
holiness
.
Madam
,
be
patient
.
As
I
was
cause
Your
Highness
came
to
England
,
so
will
I
In
England
work
your
Grace’s
full
content
.
Besides
the
haughty
Protector
,
have
we
Beaufort
The
imperious
churchman
,
Somerset
,
Buckingham
,
And
grumbling
York
;
and
not
the
least
of
these
But
can
do
more
in
England
than
the
King
.
And
he
of
these
that
can
do
most
of
all
Cannot
do
more
in
England
than
the
Nevilles
;
Salisbury
and
Warwick
are
no
simple
peers
.
Not
all
these
lords
do
vex
me
half
so
much
As
that
proud
dame
,
the
Lord
Protector’s
wife
.
She
sweeps
it
through
the
court
with
troops
of
ladies
,
More
like
an
empress
than
Duke
Humphrey’s
wife
.
Strangers
in
court
do
take
her
for
the
Queen
.
She
bears
a
duke’s
revenues
on
her
back
,
And
in
her
heart
she
scorns
our
poverty
.
Shall
I
not
live
to
be
avenged
on
her
?
Contemptuous
baseborn
callet
as
she
is
,
She
vaunted
’mongst
her
minions
t’
other
day
The
very
train
of
her
worst
wearing
gown
ACT 1. SC. 3
Was
better
worth
than
all
my
father’s
lands
Till
Suffolk
gave
two
dukedoms
for
his
daughter
.
Madam
,
myself
have
limed
a
bush
for
her
And
placed
a
choir
of
such
enticing
birds
That
she
will
light
to
listen
to
the
lays
And
never
mount
to
trouble
you
again
.
So
let
her
rest
.
And
,
madam
,
list
to
me
,
For
I
am
bold
to
counsel
you
in
this
:
Although
we
fancy
not
the
Cardinal
,
Yet
must
we
join
with
him
and
with
the
lords
Till
we
have
brought
Duke
Humphrey
in
disgrace
.
As
for
the
Duke
of
York
,
this
late
complaint
Will
make
but
little
for
his
benefit
.
So
,
one
by
one
,
we’ll
weed
them
all
at
last
,
And
you
yourself
shall
steer
the
happy
helm
.
Sound
a
sennet
.
Enter
King
Henry
,
Duke
Humphrey
of
Gloucester
,
Cardinal
,
Somerset
,
wearing
the
red
rose
,
Buckingham
,
Salisbury
;
York
and
Warwick
,
both
wearing
the
white
rose
;
and
the
Duchess
of
Gloucester
.
For
my
part
,
noble
lords
,
I
care
not
which
;
Or
Somerset
or
York
,
all’s
one
to
me
.
If
York
have
ill
demeaned
himself
in
France
,
Then
let
him
be
denied
the
regentship
.
If
Somerset
be
unworthy
of
the
place
,
Let
York
be
regent
;
I
will
yield
to
him
.
Whether
your
Grace
be
worthy
,
yea
or
no
,
Dispute
not
that
.
York
is
the
worthier
.
Ambitious
Warwick
,
let
thy
betters
speak
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
The
Cardinal’s
not
my
better
in
the
field
.
All
in
this
presence
are
thy
betters
,
Warwick
.
Warwick
may
live
to
be
the
best
of
all
.
Peace
,
son
.
—
And
show
some
reason
,
Buckingham
,
Why
Somerset
should
be
preferred
in
this
.
Because
the
King
,
forsooth
,
will
have
it
so
.
Madam
,
the
King
is
old
enough
himself
To
give
his
censure
.
These
are
no
women’s
matters
.
If
he
be
old
enough
,
what
needs
your
Grace
To
be
Protector
of
his
Excellence
?
Madam
,
I
am
Protector
of
the
realm
,
And
at
his
pleasure
will
resign
my
place
.
Resign
it
,
then
,
and
leave
thine
insolence
.
Since
thou
wert
king
—
as
who
is
king
but
thou
?
—
The
commonwealth
hath
daily
run
to
wrack
,
The
Dauphin
hath
prevailed
beyond
the
seas
,
And
all
the
peers
and
nobles
of
the
realm
Have
been
as
bondmen
to
thy
sovereignty
.
,
to
Gloucester
The
Commons
hast
thou
racked
;
the
clergy’s
bags
Are
lank
and
lean
with
thy
extortions
.
,
to
Gloucester
Thy
sumptuous
buildings
and
thy
wife’s
attire
Have
cost
a
mass
of
public
treasury
.
,
to
Gloucester
Thy
cruelty
in
execution
Upon
offenders
hath
exceeded
law
And
left
thee
to
the
mercy
of
the
law
.
ACT 1. SC. 3
,
to
Gloucester
Thy
sale
of
offices
and
towns
in
France
,
If
they
were
known
,
as
the
suspect
is
great
,
Would
make
thee
quickly
hop
without
thy
head
.
Gloucester
exits
.
Queen
Margaret
drops
her
fan
.
To
Duchess
.
Give
me
my
fan
.
What
,
minion
,
can
you
not
?
She
gives
the
Duchess
a
box
on
the
ear
.
I
cry
you
mercy
,
madam
.
Was
it
you
?
Was
’t
I
?
Yea
,
I
it
was
,
proud
Frenchwoman
.
Could
I
come
near
your
beauty
with
my
nails
,
I’d
set
my
ten
commandments
in
your
face
.
Sweet
aunt
,
be
quiet
.
’Twas
against
her
will
.
Against
her
will
,
good
king
?
Look
to
’t
in
time
.
She’ll
hamper
thee
and
dandle
thee
like
a
baby
.
Though
in
this
place
most
master
wear
no
breeches
,
She
shall
not
strike
Dame
Eleanor
unrevenged
.
Eleanor
,
the
Duchess
,
exits
.
,
aside
to
Cardinal
Lord
Cardinal
,
I
will
follow
Eleanor
And
listen
after
Humphrey
how
he
proceeds
.
She’s
tickled
now
;
her
fume
needs
no
spurs
;
She’ll
gallop
far
enough
to
her
destruction
.
Buckingham
exits
.
Enter
Humphrey
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
.
Now
,
lords
,
my
choler
being
overblown
With
walking
once
about
the
quadrangle
,
I
come
to
talk
of
commonwealth
affairs
.
As
for
your
spiteful
false
objections
,
Prove
them
,
and
I
lie
open
to
the
law
;
But
God
in
mercy
so
deal
with
my
soul
ACT 1. SC. 3
As
I
in
duty
love
my
king
and
country
!
But
,
to
the
matter
that
we
have
in
hand
:
I
say
,
my
sovereign
,
York
is
meetest
man
To
be
your
regent
in
the
realm
of
France
.
Before
we
make
election
,
give
me
leave
To
show
some
reason
,
of
no
little
force
,
That
York
is
most
unmeet
of
any
man
.
I’ll
tell
thee
,
Suffolk
,
why
I
am
unmeet
:
First
,
for
I
cannot
flatter
thee
in
pride
;
Next
,
if
I
be
appointed
for
the
place
,
My
lord
of
Somerset
will
keep
me
here
Without
discharge
,
money
,
or
furniture
Till
France
be
won
into
the
Dauphin’s
hands
.
Last
time
I
danced
attendance
on
his
will
Till
Paris
was
besieged
,
famished
,
and
lost
.
That
can
I
witness
,
and
a
fouler
fact
Did
never
traitor
in
the
land
commit
.
Peace
,
headstrong
Warwick
!
Image
of
pride
,
why
should
I
hold
my
peace
?
Enter
Horner
,
the
Armorer
,
and
his
Man
Peter
,
under
guard
.
Because
here
is
a
man
accused
of
treason
.
Pray
God
the
Duke
of
York
excuse
himself
!
Doth
anyone
accuse
York
for
a
traitor
?
What
mean’st
thou
,
Suffolk
?
Tell
me
,
what
are
these
?
ACT 1. SC. 3
Please
it
your
Majesty
,
this
is
the
man
That
doth
accuse
his
master
of
high
treason
.
His
words
were
these
:
that
Richard
,
Duke
of
York
,
Was
rightful
heir
unto
the
English
crown
,
And
that
your
Majesty
was
an
usurper
.
Say
,
man
,
were
these
thy
words
?
An
’t
shall
please
your
Majesty
,
I
never
said
nor
thought
any
such
matter
.
God
is
my
witness
,
I
am
falsely
accused
by
the
villain
.
By
these
ten
bones
,
my
lords
,
he
did
speak
them
to
me
in
the
garret
one
night
as
we
were
scouring
my
lord
of
York’s
armor
.
,
to
Horner
Base
dunghill
villain
and
mechanical
,
I’ll
have
thy
head
for
this
thy
traitor’s
speech
!
—
I
do
beseech
your
royal
Majesty
,
Let
him
have
all
the
rigor
of
the
law
.
Alas
,
my
lord
,
hang
me
if
ever
I
spake
the
words
.
My
accuser
is
my
prentice
;
and
when
I
did
correct
him
for
his
fault
the
other
day
,
he
did
vow
upon
his
knees
he
would
be
even
with
me
.
I
have
good
witness
of
this
.
Therefore
I
beseech
your
Majesty
,
do
not
cast
away
an
honest
man
for
a
villain’s
accusation
!
Uncle
,
what
shall
we
say
to
this
in
law
?
This
doom
,
my
lord
,
if
I
may
judge
:
Let
Somerset
be
regent
o’er
the
French
,
Because
in
York
this
breeds
suspicion
;
And
let
these
have
a
day
appointed
them
For
single
combat
in
convenient
place
,
For
he
hath
witness
of
his
servant’s
malice
.
This
is
the
law
,
and
this
Duke
Humphrey’s
doom
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
I
humbly
thank
your
royal
Majesty
.
And
I
accept
the
combat
willingly
.
Alas
,
my
lord
,
I
cannot
fight
;
for
God’s
sake
pity
my
case
!
The
spite
of
man
prevaileth
against
me
.
O
Lord
,
have
mercy
upon
me
!
I
shall
never
be
able
to
fight
a
blow
.
O
Lord
,
my
heart
!
Sirrah
,
or
you
must
fight
or
else
be
hanged
.
Away
with
them
to
prison
;
and
the
day
of
combat
shall
be
the
last
of
the
next
month
.
—
Come
,
Somerset
,
we’ll
see
thee
sent
away
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
Scene
4
Enter
the
Witch
Margery
Jourdain
,
the
two
Priests
Hume
and
Southwell
,
and
Bolingbroke
,
a
conjurer
.
Come
,
my
masters
.
The
Duchess
,
I
tell
you
,
expects
performance
of
your
promises
.
Master
Hume
,
we
are
therefore
provided
.
Will
her
Ladyship
behold
and
hear
our
exorcisms
?
Ay
,
what
else
?
Fear
you
not
her
courage
.
I
have
heard
her
reported
to
be
a
woman
of
an
invincible
spirit
.
But
it
shall
be
convenient
,
Master
Hume
,
that
you
be
by
her
aloft
while
we
be
busy
below
;
and
so
,
I
pray
you
,
go
,
in
God’s
name
,
and
leave
us
.
Hume
exits
.
Mother
Jourdain
,
be
you
prostrate
and
grovel
on
the
earth
.
She
lies
face
downward
.
John
Southwell
,
read
you
;
and
let
us
to
our
work
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Enter
Eleanor
,
Duchess
of
Gloucester
,
with
Hume
,
aloft
.
Well
said
,
my
masters
,
and
welcome
all
.
To
this
gear
,
the
sooner
the
better
.
Patience
,
good
lady
.
Wizards
know
their
times
.
Deep
night
,
dark
night
,
the
silent
of
the
night
,
The
time
of
night
when
Troy
was
set
on
fire
,
The
time
when
screech
owls
cry
and
bandogs
howl
,
And
spirits
walk
,
and
ghosts
break
up
their
graves
—
That
time
best
fits
the
work
we
have
in
hand
.
Madam
,
sit
you
,
and
fear
not
.
Whom
we
raise
We
will
make
fast
within
a
hallowed
verge
.
Here
they
do
the
ceremonies
belonging
,
and
make
the
circle
.
Bolingbroke
or
Southwell
reads
Conjuro
te
,
etc.
It
thunders
and
lightens
terribly
;
then
the
Spirit
riseth
.
Adsum
.
Asmath
,
By
the
eternal
God
,
whose
name
and
power
Thou
tremblest
at
,
answer
that
I
shall
ask
,
For
till
thou
speak
,
thou
shalt
not
pass
from
hence
.
Ask
what
thou
wilt
.
That
I
had
said
and
done
!
,
reading
from
a
paper
,
while
Southwell
writes
First
of
the
King
:
What
shall
of
him
become
?
The
duke
yet
lives
that
Henry
shall
depose
,
But
him
outlive
and
die
a
violent
death
.
,
reads
What
fates
await
the
Duke
of
Suffolk
?
By
water
shall
he
die
and
take
his
end
.
reads
What
shall
befall
the
Duke
of
Somerset
?
ACT 1. SC. 4
Let
him
shun
castles
.
Safer
shall
he
be
upon
the
sandy
plains
Than
where
castles
mounted
stand
.
Have
done
,
for
more
I
hardly
can
endure
.
Descend
to
darkness
and
the
burning
lake
!
False
fiend
,
avoid
!
Thunder
and
lightning
.
Spirit
exits
,
descending
.
Enter
the
Duke
of
York
and
the
Duke
of
Buckingham
with
their
Guard
and
Sir
Humphrey
Stafford
,
and
break
in
.
Lay
hands
upon
these
traitors
and
their
trash
.
The
Guard
arrest
Margery
Jourdain
and
her
accomplices
and
seize
their
papers
.
To
Jourdain
.
Beldam
,
I
think
we
watched
you
at
an
inch
.
To
the
Duchess
,
aloft
.
What
,
madam
,
are
you
there
?
The
King
and
commonweal
Are
deeply
indebted
for
this
piece
of
pains
.
My
Lord
Protector
will
,
I
doubt
it
not
,
See
you
well
guerdoned
for
these
good
deserts
.
Not
half
so
bad
as
thine
to
England’s
king
,
Injurious
duke
,
that
threatest
where’s
no
cause
.
True
,
madam
,
none
at
all
.
What
call
you
this
?
He
holds
up
the
papers
seized
.
Away
with
them
!
Let
them
be
clapped
up
close
And
kept
asunder
.
—
You
,
madam
,
shall
with
us
.
—
Stafford
,
take
her
to
thee
.
Stafford
exits
.
We’ll
see
your
trinkets
here
all
forthcoming
.
All
away
!
Jourdain
,
Southwell
,
and
Bolingbroke
exit
under
guard
,
below
;
Duchess
and
Hume
exit
,
under
guard
,
aloft
.
ACT 1. SC. 4
Lord
Buckingham
,
methinks
you
watched
her
well
.
A
pretty
plot
,
well
chosen
to
build
upon
!
Now
,
pray
,
my
lord
,
let’s
see
the
devil’s
writ
.
Buckingham
hands
him
the
papers
.
What
have
we
here
?
(
Reads
.
)
The
duke
yet
lives
that
Henry
shall
depose
,
But
him
outlive
and
die
a
violent
death
.
Why
,
this
is
just
Aio
te
,
Aeacida
,
Romanos
vincere
posse
.
Well
,
to
the
rest
:
(
Reads
.
)
Tell
me
what
fate
awaits
the
Duke
of
Suffolk
?
By
water
shall
he
die
and
take
his
end
.
What
shall
betide
the
Duke
of
Somerset
?
Let
him
shun
castles
;
Safer
shall
he
be
upon
the
sandy
plains
Than
where
castles
mounted
stand
.
Come
,
come
,
my
lord
,
these
oracles
Are
hardly
attained
and
hardly
understood
.
The
King
is
now
in
progress
towards
Saint
Albans
;
With
him
the
husband
of
this
lovely
lady
.
Thither
goes
these
news
as
fast
as
horse
can
carry
them
—
A
sorry
breakfast
for
my
Lord
Protector
.
Your
Grace
shall
give
me
leave
,
my
lord
of
York
,
To
be
the
post
,
in
hope
of
his
reward
.
At
your
pleasure
,
my
good
lord
.
Buckingham
exits
.
Who’s
within
there
,
ho
!
Enter
a
Servingman
.
Invite
my
lords
of
Salisbury
and
Warwick
To
sup
with
me
tomorrow
night
.
Away
!
They
exit
.
ACT
2
Scene
1
Enter
King
Henry
,
Queen
Margaret
,
Gloucester
the
Lord
Protector
,
Cardinal
,
and
Suffolk
,
and
Attendants
,
with
Falconers
hallowing
.
Believe
me
,
lords
,
for
flying
at
the
brook
I
saw
not
better
sport
these
seven
years’
day
.
Yet
,
by
your
leave
,
the
wind
was
very
high
,
And
,
ten
to
one
,
old
Joan
had
not
gone
out
.
,
to
Gloucester
But
what
a
point
,
my
lord
,
your
falcon
made
,
And
what
a
pitch
she
flew
above
the
rest
!
To
see
how
God
in
all
his
creatures
works
!
Yea
,
man
and
birds
are
fain
of
climbing
high
.
No
marvel
,
an
it
like
your
Majesty
,
My
Lord
Protector’s
hawks
do
tower
so
well
;
They
know
their
master
loves
to
be
aloft
And
bears
his
thoughts
above
his
falcon’s
pitch
.
My
lord
,
’tis
but
a
base
ignoble
mind
That
mounts
no
higher
than
a
bird
can
soar
.
I
thought
as
much
.
He
would
be
above
the
clouds
.
Ay
,
my
Lord
Cardinal
,
how
think
you
by
that
?
Were
it
not
good
your
Grace
could
fly
to
heaven
?
ACT 2. SC. 1
The
treasury
of
everlasting
joy
.
,
to
Gloucester
Thy
heaven
is
on
Earth
earth
;
thine
eyes
and
thoughts
Beat
on
a
crown
,
the
treasure
of
thy
heart
.
Pernicious
Protector
,
dangerous
peer
,
That
smooth’st
it
so
with
king
and
commonweal
!
What
,
cardinal
,
is
your
priesthood
grown
peremptory
?
Tantaene
animis
caelestibus
irae
?
Churchmen
so
hot
?
Good
uncle
,
hide
such
malice
.
With
such
holiness
,
can
you
do
it
?
No
malice
,
sir
,
no
more
than
well
becomes
So
good
a
quarrel
and
so
bad
a
peer
.
As
who
,
my
lord
?
Why
,
as
you
,
my
lord
,
An
’t
like
your
lordly
Lord
Protectorship
.
Why
,
Suffolk
,
England
knows
thine
insolence
.
And
thy
ambition
,
Gloucester
.
I
prithee
peace
,
Good
queen
,
and
whet
not
on
these
furious
peers
,
For
blessèd
are
the
peacemakers
on
Earth
earth
.
Let
me
be
blessèd
for
the
peace
I
make
Against
this
proud
Protector
with
my
sword
!
,
aside
to
Cardinal
Faith
,
holy
uncle
,
would
’t
were
come
to
that
!
,
aside
to
Gloucester
Marry
,
when
thou
dar’st
!
,
aside
to
Cardinal
Make
up
no
factious
numbers
for
the
matter
.
In
thine
own
person
answer
thy
abuse
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
,
aside
to
Gloucester
Ay
,
where
thou
dar’st
not
peep
.
An
if
thou
dar’st
,
This
evening
,
on
the
east
side
of
the
grove
.
How
now
,
my
lords
?
Believe
me
,
cousin
Gloucester
,
Had
not
your
man
put
up
the
fowl
so
suddenly
,
We
had
had
more
sport
.
(
Aside
to
Gloucester
.
)
Come
with
thy
two-hand
sword
.
True
,
uncle
.
(
Aside
to
Cardinal
.
)
Are
you
advised
?
The
east
side
of
the
grove
.
,
aside
to
Gloucester
I
am
with
you
.
Why
,
how
now
,
uncle
Gloucester
?
Talking
of
hawking
;
nothing
else
,
my
lord
.
(
Aside
to
Cardinal
.
)
Now
,
by
God’s
mother
,
priest
,
I’ll
shave
your
crown
for
this
,
Or
all
my
fence
shall
fail
.
,
aside
to
Gloucester
Medice
,
teipsum
;
Protector
,
see
to
’t
well
;
protect
yourself
.
The
winds
grow
high
;
so
do
your
stomachs
,
lords
.
How
irksome
is
this
music
to
my
heart
!
When
such
strings
jar
,
what
hope
of
harmony
?
I
pray
,
my
lords
,
let
me
compound
this
strife
.
Enter
a
man
from
St
.
Albans
crying
A
miracle
!
What
means
this
noise
?
—
Fellow
,
what
miracle
dost
thou
proclaim
?
A
miracle
,
a
miracle
!
Come
to
the
King
,
and
tell
him
what
miracle
.
Forsooth
,
a
blind
man
at
Saint
Alban’s
shrine
ACT 2. SC. 1
Within
this
half
hour
hath
received
his
sight
,
A
man
that
ne’er
saw
in
his
life
before
.
Now
,
God
be
praised
,
that
to
believing
souls
Gives
light
in
darkness
,
comfort
in
despair
.
Enter
the
Mayor
of
Saint
Albans
,
and
his
brethren
,
bearing
the
man
Simpcox
between
two
in
a
chair
,
followed
by
Simpcox’s
Wife
and
Others
.
Here
comes
the
townsmen
on
procession
To
present
your
Highness
with
the
man
.
Great
is
his
comfort
in
this
earthly
vale
,
Although
by
his
sight
his
sin
be
multiplied
.
Stand
by
,
my
masters
.
—
Bring
him
near
the
King
.
His
Highness’
pleasure
is
to
talk
with
him
.
The
two
bearers
bring
the
chair
forward
.
Good
fellow
,
tell
us
here
the
circumstance
,
That
we
for
thee
may
glorify
the
Lord
.
What
,
hast
thou
been
long
blind
and
now
restored
?
Born
blind
,
an
’t
please
your
Grace
.
Ay
,
indeed
,
was
he
.
What
woman
is
this
?
His
wife
,
an
’t
like
your
Worship
.
Hadst
thou
been
his
mother
,
thou
couldst
have
better
told
.
Where
wert
thou
born
?
At
Berwick
in
the
North
,
an
’t
like
your
Grace
.
Poor
soul
,
God’s
goodness
hath
been
great
to
thee
.
Let
never
day
nor
night
unhallowed
pass
,
But
still
remember
what
the
Lord
hath
done
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Tell
me
,
good
fellow
,
cam’st
thou
here
by
chance
,
Or
of
devotion
to
this
holy
shrine
?
God
knows
,
of
pure
devotion
,
being
called
A
hundred
times
and
oftener
in
my
sleep
By
good
Saint
Alban
,
who
said
Simon
,
come
,
Come
,
offer
at
my
shrine
,
and
I
will
help
thee
.
Most
true
,
forsooth
,
and
many
time
and
oft
Myself
have
heard
a
voice
to
call
him
so
.
What
,
art
thou
lame
?
Ay
,
God
Almighty
help
me
!
How
cam’st
thou
so
?
A
fall
off
of
a
tree
.
A
plum
tree
,
master
.
How
long
hast
thou
been
blind
?
O
,
born
so
,
master
.
What
,
and
wouldst
climb
a
tree
?
But
that
in
all
my
life
,
when
I
was
a
youth
.
Too
true
,
and
bought
his
climbing
very
dear
.
Mass
,
thou
lov’dst
plums
well
,
that
wouldst
venture
so
.
Alas
,
good
master
,
my
wife
desired
some
damsons
,
and
made
me
climb
,
with
danger
of
my
life
.
A
subtle
knave
,
but
yet
it
shall
not
serve
.
—
Let
me
see
thine
eyes
.
Wink
now
.
Now
open
them
.
In
my
opinion
,
yet
thou
seest
not
well
.
Yes
,
master
,
clear
as
day
,
I
thank
God
and
Saint
Alban
.
Sayst
thou
me
so
?
What
color
is
this
cloak
of
?
Red
,
master
,
red
as
blood
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Why
,
that’s
well
said
.
What
color
is
my
gown
of
?
Black
,
forsooth
,
coal-black
coal
black
as
jet
.
Why
,
then
,
thou
know’st
what
color
jet
is
of
.
And
yet
,
I
think
,
jet
did
he
never
see
.
But
cloaks
and
gowns
,
before
this
day
,
a
many
.
Never
,
before
this
day
,
in
all
his
life
.
Tell
me
,
sirrah
,
what’s
my
name
?
Alas
,
master
,
I
know
not
.
,
pointing
What’s
his
name
?
I
know
not
.
,
pointing
to
someone
else
Nor
his
?
No
,
indeed
,
master
.
What’s
thine
own
name
?
Sander
Simpcox
,
an
if
it
please
you
,
master
.
Then
,
Sander
,
sit
there
,
the
lying’st
knave
in
Christendom
.
If
thou
hadst
been
born
blind
,
thou
mightst
as
well
have
known
all
our
names
as
thus
to
name
the
several
colors
we
do
wear
.
Sight
may
distinguish
of
colors
;
but
suddenly
to
nominate
them
all
,
it
is
impossible
.
—
My
lords
,
Saint
Alban
here
hath
done
a
miracle
;
and
would
you
not
think
his
cunning
to
be
great
that
could
restore
this
cripple
to
his
legs
again
?
O
master
,
that
you
could
!
My
masters
of
Saint
Albans
,
have
you
not
beadles
in
your
town
and
things
called
whips
?
Yes
,
my
lord
,
if
it
please
your
Grace
.
Then
send
for
one
presently
.
Sirrah
,
go
fetch
the
beadle
hither
straight
.
A
man
exits
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Now
fetch
me
a
stool
hither
by
and
by
.
One
brings
a
stool
.
Now
,
sirrah
,
if
you
mean
to
save
yourself
from
whipping
,
leap
me
over
this
stool
,
and
run
away
.
Alas
,
master
,
I
am
not
able
to
stand
alone
.
You
go
about
to
torture
me
in
vain
.
Enter
a
Beadle
with
whips
.
Well
,
sir
,
we
must
have
you
find
your
legs
.
—
Sirrah
beadle
,
whip
him
till
he
leap
over
that
same
stool
.
I
will
,
my
lord
.
—
Come
on
,
sirrah
,
off
with
your
doublet
quickly
.
Alas
,
master
,
what
shall
I
do
?
I
am
not
able
to
stand
.
After
the
Beadle
hath
hit
him
once
,
he
leaps
over
the
stool
and
runs
away
;
and
they
follow
and
cry
A
miracle
!
O
God
,
seest
Thou
this
,
and
bearest
so
long
?
It
made
me
laugh
to
see
the
villain
run
.
,
to
the
Beadle
Follow
the
knave
,
and
take
this
drab
away
.
Alas
,
sir
,
we
did
it
for
pure
need
.
Let
them
be
whipped
through
every
market
town
Till
they
come
to
Berwick
,
from
whence
they
came
.
The
Beadle
,
Mayor
,
Wife
,
and
the
others
from
Saint
Albans
exit
.
Duke
Humphrey
has
done
a
miracle
today
.
True
,
made
the
lame
to
leap
and
fly
away
.
But
you
have
done
more
miracles
than
I
.
You
made
in
a
day
,
my
lord
,
whole
towns
to
fly
.
ACT 2. SC. 1
Enter
Buckingham
.
What
tidings
with
our
cousin
Buckingham
?
Such
as
my
heart
doth
tremble
to
unfold
:
A
sort
of
naughty
persons
,
lewdly
bent
,
Under
the
countenance
and
confederacy
Of
Lady
Eleanor
,
the
Protector’s
wife
,
The
ringleader
and
head
of
all
this
rout
,
Have
practiced
dangerously
against
your
state
,
Dealing
with
witches
and
with
conjurers
,
Whom
we
have
apprehended
in
the
fact
,
Raising
up
wicked
spirits
from
under
ground
,
Demanding
of
King
Henry’s
life
and
death
And
other
of
your
Highness’
Privy
Council
,
As
more
at
large
your
Grace
shall
understand
.
And
so
,
my
Lord
Protector
,
by
this
means
Your
lady
is
forthcoming
yet
at
London
.
Aside
to
Gloucester
.
This
news
,
I
think
,
hath
turned
your
weapon’s
edge
;
’Tis
like
,
my
lord
,
you
will
not
keep
your
hour
.
Ambitious
churchman
,
leave
to
afflict
my
heart
.
Sorrow
and
grief
have
vanquished
all
my
powers
,
And
,
vanquished
as
I
am
,
I
yield
to
thee
,
Or
to
the
meanest
groom
.
O
God
,
what
mischiefs
work
the
wicked
ones
,
Heaping
confusion
on
their
own
heads
thereby
!
Gloucester
,
see
here
the
tainture
of
thy
nest
,
And
look
thyself
be
faultless
,
thou
wert
best
.
Madam
,
for
myself
,
to
heaven
I
do
appeal
ACT 2. SC. 2
How
I
have
loved
my
king
and
commonweal
;
And
,
for
my
wife
,
I
know
not
how
it
stands
.
Sorry
I
am
to
hear
what
I
have
heard
.
Noble
she
is
;
but
if
she
have
forgot
Honor
and
virtue
,
and
conversed
with
such
As
,
like
to
pitch
,
defile
nobility
,
I
banish
her
my
bed
and
company
And
give
her
as
a
prey
to
law
and
shame
That
hath
dishonored
Gloucester’s
honest
name
.
Well
,
for
this
night
we
will
repose
us
here
.
Tomorrow
toward
London
back
again
,
To
look
into
this
business
thoroughly
,
And
call
these
foul
offenders
to
their
answers
,
And
poise
the
cause
in
Justice’
equal
scales
,
Whose
beam
stands
sure
,
whose
rightful
cause
prevails
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
Scene
2
Enter
York
,
Salisbury
,
and
Warwick
.
Now
,
my
good
lords
of
Salisbury
and
Warwick
,
Our
simple
supper
ended
,
give
me
leave
,
In
this
close
walk
,
to
satisfy
myself
In
craving
your
opinion
of
my
title
,
Which
is
infallible
,
to
England’s
crown
.
My
lord
,
I
long
to
hear
it
at
full
.
Sweet
York
,
begin
;
and
if
thy
claim
be
good
,
The
Nevilles
are
thy
subjects
to
command
.
Then
thus
:
Edward
the
Third
,
my
lords
,
had
seven
sons
:
ACT 2. SC. 2
The
first
,
Edward
the
Black
Prince
,
Prince
of
Wales
;
The
second
,
William
of
Hatfield
;
and
the
third
,
Lionel
,
Duke
of
Clarence
;
next
to
whom
Was
John
of
Gaunt
,
the
Duke
of
Lancaster
;
The
fifth
was
Edmund
Langley
,
Duke
of
York
;
The
sixth
was
Thomas
of
Woodstock
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
;
William
of
Windsor
was
the
seventh
and
last
.
Edward
the
Black
Prince
died
before
his
father
And
left
behind
him
Richard
,
his
only
son
,
Who
,
after
Edward
the
Third’s
death
,
reigned
as
king
Till
Henry
Bolingbroke
,
Duke
of
Lancaster
,
The
eldest
son
and
heir
of
John
of
Gaunt
,
Crowned
by
the
name
of
Henry
the
Fourth
,
Seized
on
the
realm
,
deposed
the
rightful
king
,
Sent
his
poor
queen
to
France
,
from
whence
she
came
,
And
him
to
Pomfret
;
where
,
as
all
you
know
,
Harmless
Richard
was
murdered
traitorously
.
Father
,
the
Duke
hath
told
the
truth
.
Thus
got
the
house
of
Lancaster
the
crown
.
Which
now
they
hold
by
force
and
not
by
right
;
For
Richard
,
the
first
son’s
heir
,
being
dead
,
The
issue
of
the
next
son
should
have
reigned
.
But
William
of
Hatfield
died
without
an
heir
.
The
third
son
,
Duke
of
Clarence
,
from
whose
line
I
claim
the
crown
,
had
issue
,
Philippa
,
a
daughter
,
Who
married
Edmund
Mortimer
,
Earl
of
March
.
Edmund
had
issue
,
Roger
,
Earl
of
March
;
Roger
had
issue
:
Edmund
,
Anne
,
and
Eleanor
.
This
Edmund
,
in
the
reign
of
Bolingbroke
,
ACT 2. SC. 2
As
I
have
read
,
laid
claim
unto
the
crown
And
,
but
for
Owen
Glendower
,
had
been
king
,
Who
kept
him
in
captivity
till
he
died
.
But
to
the
rest
.
His
eldest
sister
,
Anne
,
My
mother
,
being
heir
unto
the
crown
,
Married
Richard
,
Earl
of
Cambridge
,
who
was
son
To
Edmund
Langley
,
Edward
the
Third’s
fifth
son
.
By
her
I
claim
the
kingdom
.
She
was
heir
To
Roger
,
Earl
of
March
,
who
was
the
son
Of
Edmund
Mortimer
,
who
married
Philippa
,
Sole
daughter
unto
Lionel
,
Duke
of
Clarence
.
So
,
if
the
issue
of
the
elder
son
Succeed
before
the
younger
,
I
am
king
.
What
plain
proceedings
is
more
plain
than
this
?
Henry
doth
claim
the
crown
from
John
of
Gaunt
,
The
fourth
son
;
York
claims
it
from
the
third
.
Till
Lionel’s
issue
fails
,
his
should
not
reign
.
It
fails
not
yet
,
but
flourishes
in
thee
And
in
thy
sons
,
fair
slips
of
such
a
stock
.
Then
,
father
Salisbury
,
kneel
we
together
,
And
in
this
private
plot
be
we
the
first
That
shall
salute
our
rightful
sovereign
With
honor
of
his
birthright
to
the
crown
.
,
kneeling
Long
live
our
sovereign
Richard
,
England’s
king
!
We
thank
you
,
lords
.
They
rise
.
But
I
am
not
your
king
Till
I
be
crowned
,
and
that
my
sword
be
stained
With
heart-blood
of
the
house
of
Lancaster
;
And
that’s
not
suddenly
to
be
performed
,
But
with
advice
and
silent
secrecy
.
Do
you
as
I
do
in
these
dangerous
days
:
Wink
at
the
Duke
of
Suffolk’s
insolence
,
ACT 2. SC. 3
At
Beaufort’s
pride
,
at
Somerset’s
ambition
,
At
Buckingham
,
and
all
the
crew
of
them
,
Till
they
have
snared
the
shepherd
of
the
flock
,
That
virtuous
prince
,
the
good
Duke
Humphrey
.
’Tis
that
they
seek
;
and
they
,
in
seeking
that
,
Shall
find
their
deaths
,
if
York
can
prophesy
.
My
lord
,
break
we
off
.
We
know
your
mind
at
full
.
My
heart
assures
me
that
the
Earl
of
Warwick
Shall
one
day
make
the
Duke
of
York
a
king
.
And
,
Neville
,
this
I
do
assure
myself
:
Richard
shall
live
to
make
the
Earl
of
Warwick
The
greatest
man
in
England
but
the
King
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Sound
trumpets
.
Enter
King
Henry
and
State
(
Queen
Margaret
,
Gloucester
,
York
,
Salisbury
,
Suffolk
,
and
Others
)
with
Guard
,
to
banish
the
Duchess
of
Gloucester
,
who
is
accompanied
by
Margery
Jourdain
,
Southwell
,
Hume
,
and
Bolingbroke
,
all
guarded
.
Stand
forth
,
Dame
Eleanor
Cobham
,
Gloucester’s
wife
.
In
sight
of
God
and
us
,
your
guilt
is
great
.
Receive
the
sentence
of
the
law
for
sins
Such
as
by
God’s
book
are
adjudged
to
death
.
To
Jourdain
,
Southwell
,
Hume
,
and
Bolingbroke
.
You
four
,
from
hence
to
prison
back
again
;
From
thence
unto
the
place
of
execution
:
The
witch
in
Smithfield
shall
be
burnt
to
ashes
,
And
you
three
shall
be
strangled
on
the
gallows
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
To
Duchess
You
,
madam
,
for
you
are
more
nobly
born
,
Despoilèd
of
your
honor
in
your
life
,
Shall
,
after
three
days’
open
penance
done
,
Live
in
your
country
here
in
banishment
With
Sir
John
Stanley
in
the
Isle
of
Man
.
Welcome
is
banishment
.
Welcome
were
my
death
.
Eleanor
,
the
law
,
thou
seest
,
hath
judged
thee
.
I
cannot
justify
whom
the
law
condemns
.
Duchess
and
the
other
prisoners
exit
under
guard
.
Mine
eyes
are
full
of
tears
,
my
heart
of
grief
.
Ah
,
Humphrey
,
this
dishonor
in
thine
age
Will
bring
thy
head
with
sorrow
to
the
ground
.
—
I
beseech
your
Majesty
give
me
leave
to
go
;
Sorrow
would
solace
,
and
mine
age
would
ease
.
Stay
,
Humphrey
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
.
Ere
thou
go
,
Give
up
thy
staff
.
Henry
will
to
himself
Protector
be
;
and
God
shall
be
my
hope
,
My
stay
,
my
guide
,
and
lantern
to
my
feet
.
And
go
in
peace
,
Humphrey
,
no
less
beloved
Than
when
thou
wert
Protector
to
thy
king
.
I
see
no
reason
why
a
king
of
years
Should
be
to
be
protected
like
a
child
.
God
and
King
Henry
govern
England’s
realm
!
—
Give
up
your
staff
,
sir
,
and
the
King
his
realm
.
My
staff
?
—
Here
,
noble
Henry
,
is
my
staff
.
He
puts
down
his
staff
before
Henry
.
As
willingly
do
I
the
same
resign
As
e’er
thy
father
Henry
made
it
mine
;
And
even
as
willingly
at
thy
feet
I
leave
it
As
others
would
ambitiously
receive
it
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Farewell
,
good
king
.
When
I
am
dead
and
gone
,
May
honorable
peace
attend
thy
throne
.
Gloucester
exits
.
Henry
picks
up
the
staff
.
Why
,
now
is
Henry
king
and
Margaret
queen
,
And
Humphrey
,
Duke
of
Gloucester
,
scarce
himself
,
That
bears
so
shrewd
a
maim
.
Two
pulls
at
once
:
His
lady
banished
and
a
limb
lopped
off
.
This
staff
of
honor
raught
,
there
let
it
stand
Where
it
best
fits
to
be
,
in
Henry’s
hand
.
Thus
droops
this
lofty
pine
and
hangs
his
sprays
;
Thus
Eleanor’s
pride
dies
in
her
youngest
days
.
Lords
,
let
him
go
.
—
Please
it
your
Majesty
,
This
is
the
day
appointed
for
the
combat
,
And
ready
are
the
appellant
and
defendant
—
The
armorer
and
his
man
—
to
enter
the
lists
,
So
please
your
Highness
to
behold
the
fight
.
Ay
,
good
my
lord
,
for
purposely
therefor
Left
I
the
court
to
see
this
quarrel
tried
.
I’
God’s
name
,
see
the
lists
and
all
things
fit
.
Here
let
them
end
it
,
and
God
defend
the
right
!
I
never
saw
a
fellow
worse
bestead
Or
more
afraid
to
fight
than
is
the
appellant
,
The
servant
of
this
armorer
,
my
lords
.
Enter
at
one
door
the
Armorer
Horner
and
his
Neighbors
,
drinking
to
him
so
much
that
he
is
drunk
;
and
he
enters
with
a
Drum
before
him
and
his
staff
with
a
sandbag
fastened
to
it
;
and
at
the
other
door
his
man
Peter
,
with
a
Drum
and
sandbag
,
and
Prentices
drinking
to
him
.
ACT 2. SC. 3
Here
,
neighbor
Horner
,
I
drink
to
you
in
a
cup
of
sack
;
and
fear
not
,
neighbor
,
you
shall
do
well
enough
.
And
here
,
neighbor
,
here’s
a
cup
of
charneco
.
And
here’s
a
pot
of
good
double
beer
,
neighbor
.
Drink
,
and
fear
not
your
man
.
Let
it
come
,
i’
faith
,
and
I’ll
pledge
you
all
.
And
a
fig
for
Peter
!
They
drink
.
Here
,
Peter
,
I
drink
to
thee
,
and
be
not
afraid
.
Be
merry
,
Peter
,
and
fear
not
thy
master
.
Fight
for
credit
of
the
prentices
.
I
thank
you
all
.
Drink
,
and
pray
for
me
,
I
pray
you
,
for
I
think
I
have
taken
my
last
draft
in
this
world
.
Here
,
Robin
,
an
if
I
die
,
I
give
thee
my
apron
.
—
And
,
Will
,
thou
shalt
have
my
hammer
.
—
And
here
,
Tom
,
take
all
the
money
that
I
have
.
He
distributes
his
possessions
.
O
Lord
,
bless
me
,
I
pray
God
,
for
I
am
never
able
to
deal
with
my
master
.
He
hath
learnt
so
much
fence
already
.
Come
,
leave
your
drinking
,
and
fall
to
blows
.
Sirrah
,
what’s
thy
name
?
Peter
,
forsooth
.
Peter
?
What
more
?
Thump
.
Thump
?
Then
see
thou
thump
thy
master
well
.
Masters
,
I
am
come
hither
,
as
it
were
,
upon
my
man’s
instigation
,
to
prove
him
a
knave
and
myself
an
honest
man
;
and
touching
the
Duke
of
York
,
I
will
take
my
death
I
never
meant
him
any
ill
,
nor
the
King
,
nor
the
Queen
.
—
And
therefore
,
Peter
,
have
at
thee
with
a
downright
blow
!
Dispatch
.
This
knave’s
tongue
begins
to
double
.
Sound
,
trumpets
.
Alarum
to
the
combatants
!
ACT 2. SC. 4
Trumpet
sounds
.
They
fight
,
and
Peter
strikes
him
down
.
Hold
,
Peter
,
hold
!
I
confess
,
I
confess
treason
.
He
dies
.
Take
away
his
weapon
.
—
Fellow
,
thank
God
and
the
good
wine
in
thy
master’s
way
.
O
God
,
have
I
overcome
mine
enemies
in
this
presence
?
O
Peter
,
thou
hast
prevailed
in
right
!
Go
,
take
hence
that
traitor
from
our
sight
;
For
by
his
death
we
do
perceive
his
guilt
.
And
God
in
justice
hath
revealed
to
us
The
truth
and
innocence
of
this
poor
fellow
,
Which
he
had
thought
to
have
murdered
wrongfully
.
—
Come
,
fellow
,
follow
us
for
thy
reward
.
Sound
a
flourish
.
They
exit
,
bearing
Horner’s
body
.
Scene
4
Enter
Duke
Humphrey
of
Gloucester
and
his
Men
,
in
mourning
cloaks
.
Thus
sometimes
hath
the
brightest
day
a
cloud
,
And
after
summer
evermore
succeeds
Barren
winter
,
with
his
wrathful
nipping
cold
;
So
cares
and
joys
abound
,
as
seasons
fleet
.
Sirs
,
what’s
o’clock
?
Ten
,
my
lord
.
Ten
is
the
hour
that
was
appointed
me
To
watch
the
coming
of
my
punished
duchess
.
Uneath
may
she
endure
the
flinty
streets
,
To
tread
them
with
her
tender-feeling
feet
.
Sweet
Nell
,
ill
can
thy
noble
mind
abrook
ACT 2. SC. 4
The
abject
people
gazing
on
thy
face
With
envious
looks
laughing
at
thy
shame
,
That
erst
did
follow
thy
proud
chariot
wheels
When
thou
didst
ride
in
triumph
through
the
streets
.
But
,
soft
!
I
think
she
comes
,
and
I’ll
prepare
My
tearstained
eyes
to
see
her
miseries
.
Enter
the
Duchess
of
Gloucester
,
barefoot
,
and
in
a
white
sheet
,
with
papers
pinned
to
her
back
and
a
taper
burning
in
her
hand
,
with
Sir
John
Stanley
,
the
Sheriff
,
and
Officers
.
So
please
your
Grace
,
we’ll
take
her
from
the
Sheriff
.
No
,
stir
not
for
your
lives
.
Let
her
pass
by
.
Come
you
,
my
lord
,
to
see
my
open
shame
?
Now
thou
dost
penance
too
.
Look
how
they
gaze
!
See
how
the
giddy
multitude
do
point
,
And
nod
their
heads
,
and
throw
their
eyes
on
thee
.
Ah
,
Gloucester
,
hide
thee
from
their
hateful
looks
,
And
,
in
thy
closet
pent
up
,
rue
my
shame
,
And
ban
thine
enemies
,
both
mine
and
thine
.
Be
patient
,
gentle
Nell
.
Forget
this
grief
.
Ah
,
Gloucester
,
teach
me
to
forget
myself
!
For
whilst
I
think
I
am
thy
married
wife
And
thou
a
prince
,
Protector
of
this
land
,
Methinks
I
should
not
thus
be
led
along
,
Mailed
up
in
shame
,
with
papers
on
my
back
,
And
followed
with
a
rabble
that
rejoice
To
see
my
tears
and
hear
my
deep-fet
groans
.
The
ruthless
flint
doth
cut
my
tender
feet
,
And
when
I
start
,
the
envious
people
laugh
ACT 2. SC. 4
And
bid
me
be
advisèd
how
I
tread
.
Ah
,
Humphrey
,
can
I
bear
this
shameful
yoke
?
Trowest
thou
that
e’er
I’ll
look
upon
the
world
Or
count
them
happy
that
enjoys
the
sun
?
No
,
dark
shall
be
my
light
,
and
night
my
day
.
To
think
upon
my
pomp
shall
be
my
hell
.
Sometimes
I’ll
say
I
am
Duke
Humphrey’s
wife
And
he
a
prince
and
ruler
of
the
land
;
Yet
so
he
ruled
and
such
a
prince
he
was
As
he
stood
by
whilst
I
,
his
forlorn
duchess
,
Was
made
a
wonder
and
a
pointing-stock
To
every
idle
rascal
follower
.
But
be
thou
mild
,
and
blush
not
at
my
shame
,
Nor
stir
at
nothing
till
the
ax
of
death
Hang
over
thee
,
as
,
sure
,
it
shortly
will
.
For
Suffolk
,
he
that
can
do
all
in
all
With
her
that
hateth
thee
and
hates
us
all
,
And
York
and
impious
Beaufort
,
that
false
priest
,
Have
all
limed
bushes
to
betray
thy
wings
;
And
fly
thou
how
thou
canst
,
they’ll
tangle
thee
.
But
fear
not
thou
until
thy
foot
be
snared
,
Nor
never
seek
prevention
of
thy
foes
.
Ah
,
Nell
,
forbear
.
Thou
aimest
all
awry
.
I
must
offend
before
I
be
attainted
;
And
had
I
twenty
times
so
many
foes
,
And
each
of
them
had
twenty
times
their
power
,
All
these
could
not
procure
me
any
scathe
So
long
as
I
am
loyal
,
true
,
and
crimeless
.
Wouldst
have
me
rescue
thee
from
this
reproach
?
Why
,
yet
thy
scandal
were
not
wiped
away
,
But
I
in
danger
for
the
breach
of
law
.
Thy
greatest
help
is
quiet
,
gentle
Nell
.
I
pray
thee
,
sort
thy
heart
to
patience
;
These
few
days’
wonder
will
be
quickly
worn
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Enter
a
Herald
.
I
summon
your
Grace
to
his
Majesty’s
Parliament
Holden
at
Bury
the
first
of
this
next
month
.
And
my
consent
ne’er
asked
herein
before
?
This
is
close
dealing
.
Well
,
I
will
be
there
.
Herald
exits
.
My
Nell
,
I
take
my
leave
.
—
And
,
master
sheriff
,
Let
not
her
penance
exceed
the
King’s
commission
.
An
’t
please
your
Grace
,
here
my
commission
stays
,
And
Sir
John
Stanley
is
appointed
now
To
take
her
with
him
to
the
Isle
of
Man
.
Must
you
,
Sir
John
,
protect
my
lady
here
?
So
am
I
given
in
charge
,
may
’t
please
your
Grace
.
Entreat
her
not
the
worse
in
that
I
pray
You
use
her
well
.
The
world
may
laugh
again
,
And
I
may
live
to
do
you
kindness
,
if
You
do
it
her
.
And
so
,
Sir
John
,
farewell
.
What
,
gone
,
my
lord
,
and
bid
me
not
farewell
?
Witness
my
tears
.
I
cannot
stay
to
speak
.
Gloucester
exits
with
his
Men
.
Art
thou
gone
too
?
All
comfort
go
with
thee
,
For
none
abides
with
me
.
My
joy
is
death
—
Death
,
at
whose
name
I
oft
have
been
afeard
,
Because
I
wished
this
world’s
eternity
.
—
Stanley
,
I
prithee
,
go
,
and
take
me
hence
.
I
care
not
whither
,
for
I
beg
no
favor
;
Only
convey
me
where
thou
art
commanded
.
ACT 2. SC. 4
Why
,
madam
,
that
is
to
the
Isle
of
Man
,
There
to
be
used
according
to
your
state
.
That’s
bad
enough
,
for
I
am
but
reproach
.
And
shall
I
,
then
,
be
used
reproachfully
?
Like
to
a
duchess
and
Duke
Humphrey’s
lady
;
According
to
that
state
you
shall
be
used
.
Sheriff
,
farewell
,
and
better
than
I
fare
,
Although
thou
hast
been
conduct
of
my
shame
.
It
is
my
office
;
and
,
madam
,
pardon
me
.
Ay
,
ay
,
farewell
.
Thy
office
is
discharged
.
The
Sheriff
and
Officers
exit
.
Come
,
Stanley
,
shall
we
go
?
Madam
,
your
penance
done
,
throw
off
this
sheet
,
And
go
we
to
attire
you
for
our
journey
.
My
shame
will
not
be
shifted
with
my
sheet
.
No
,
it
will
hang
upon
my
richest
robes
And
show
itself
,
attire
me
how
I
can
.
Go
,
lead
the
way
.
I
long
to
see
my
prison
.
They
exit
.
ACT
3
Scene
1
Sound
a
sennet
.
Enter
King
Henry
,
Queen
Margaret
,
Cardinal
,
Suffolk
,
York
,
Buckingham
,
Salisbury
,
and
Warwick
,
and
Others
to
the
Parliament
.
I
muse
my
lord
of
Gloucester
is
not
come
.
’Tis
not
his
wont
to
be
the
hindmost
man
,
Whate’er
occasion
keeps
him
from
us
now
.
Can
you
not
see
,
or
will
you
not
observe
,
The
strangeness
of
his
altered
countenance
?
With
what
a
majesty
he
bears
himself
,
How
insolent
of
late
he
is
become
,
How
proud
,
how
peremptory
,
and
unlike
himself
?
We
know
the
time
since
he
was
mild
and
affable
;
And
if
we
did
but
glance
a
far-off
look
,
Immediately
he
was
upon
his
knee
,
That
all
the
court
admired
him
for
submission
.
But
meet
him
now
,
and
,
be
it
in
the
morn
When
everyone
will
give
the
time
of
day
,
He
knits
his
brow
and
shows
an
angry
eye
And
passeth
by
with
stiff
unbowèd
knee
,
Disdaining
duty
that
to
us
belongs
.
Small
curs
are
not
regarded
when
they
grin
,
But
great
men
tremble
when
the
lion
roars
—
And
Humphrey
is
no
little
man
in
England
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
First
,
note
that
he
is
near
you
in
descent
,
And
,
should
you
fall
,
he
is
the
next
will
mount
.
Meseemeth
then
it
is
no
policy
,
Respecting
what
a
rancorous
mind
he
bears
And
his
advantage
following
your
decease
,
That
he
should
come
about
your
royal
person
Or
be
admitted
to
your
Highness’
Council
.
By
flattery
hath
he
won
the
Commons’
hearts
;
And
when
he
please
to
make
commotion
,
’Tis
to
be
feared
they
all
will
follow
him
.
Now
’tis
the
spring
,
and
weeds
are
shallow-rooted
;
Suffer
them
now
,
and
they’ll
o’ergrow
the
garden
And
choke
the
herbs
for
want
of
husbandry
.
The
reverent
care
I
bear
unto
my
lord
Made
me
collect
these
dangers
in
the
Duke
.
If
it
be
fond
,
call
it
a
woman’s
fear
,
Which
fear
,
if
better
reasons
can
supplant
,
I
will
subscribe
and
say
I
wronged
the
Duke
.
My
lords
of
Suffolk
,
Buckingham
,
and
York
,
Reprove
my
allegation
if
you
can
,
Or
else
conclude
my
words
effectual
.
Well
hath
your
Highness
seen
into
this
duke
,
And
,
had
I
first
been
put
to
speak
my
mind
,
I
think
I
should
have
told
your
Grace’s
tale
.
The
Duchess
by
his
subornation
,
Upon
my
life
,
began
her
devilish
practices
;
Or
if
he
were
not
privy
to
those
faults
,
Yet
,
by
reputing
of
his
high
descent
—
As
next
the
King
he
was
successive
heir
,
And
such
high
vaunts
of
his
nobility
—
Did
instigate
the
bedlam
brainsick
duchess
By
wicked
means
to
frame
our
sovereign’s
fall
.
Smooth
runs
the
water
where
the
brook
is
deep
,
And
in
his
simple
show
he
harbors
treason
.
The
fox
barks
not
when
he
would
steal
the
lamb
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
No
,
no
,
my
sovereign
,
Gloucester
is
a
man
Unsounded
yet
and
full
of
deep
deceit
.
Did
he
not
,
contrary
to
form
of
law
,
Devise
strange
deaths
for
small
offenses
done
?
And
did
he
not
,
in
his
protectorship
,
Levy
great
sums
of
money
through
the
realm
For
soldiers’
pay
in
France
,
and
never
sent
it
,
By
means
whereof
the
towns
each
day
revolted
?
Tut
,
these
are
petty
faults
to
faults
unknown
,
Which
time
will
bring
to
light
in
smooth
Duke
Humphrey
.
My
lords
,
at
once
:
the
care
you
have
of
us
To
mow
down
thorns
that
would
annoy
our
foot
Is
worthy
praise
;
but
,
shall
I
speak
my
conscience
,
Our
kinsman
Gloucester
is
as
innocent
From
meaning
treason
to
our
royal
person
As
is
the
sucking
lamb
or
harmless
dove
.
The
Duke
is
virtuous
,
mild
,
and
too
well
given
To
dream
on
evil
or
to
work
my
downfall
.
Ah
,
what’s
more
dangerous
than
this
fond
affiance
?
Seems
he
a
dove
?
His
feathers
are
but
borrowed
,
For
he’s
disposèd
as
the
hateful
raven
.
Is
he
a
lamb
?
His
skin
is
surely
lent
him
,
For
he’s
inclined
as
is
the
ravenous
wolves
.
Who
cannot
steal
a
shape
that
means
deceit
?
Take
heed
,
my
lord
;
the
welfare
of
us
all
Hangs
on
the
cutting
short
that
fraudful
man
.
Enter
Somerset
.
All
health
unto
my
gracious
sovereign
!
ACT 3. SC. 1
Welcome
,
Lord
Somerset
.
What
news
from
France
?
That
all
your
interest
in
those
territories
Is
utterly
bereft
you
.
All
is
lost
.
Cold
news
,
Lord
Somerset
;
but
God’s
will
be
done
.
,
aside
Cold
news
for
me
,
for
I
had
hope
of
France
As
firmly
as
I
hope
for
fertile
England
.
Thus
are
my
blossoms
blasted
in
the
bud
,
And
caterpillars
eat
my
leaves
away
.
But
I
will
remedy
this
gear
ere
long
,
Or
sell
my
title
for
a
glorious
grave
.
Enter
Gloucester
.
All
happiness
unto
my
lord
the
King
!
Pardon
,
my
liege
,
that
I
have
stayed
so
long
.
Nay
,
Gloucester
,
know
that
thou
art
come
too
soon
,
Unless
thou
wert
more
loyal
than
thou
art
.
I
do
arrest
thee
of
high
treason
here
.
Well
,
Suffolk
,
thou
shalt
not
see
me
blush
Nor
change
my
countenance
for
this
arrest
.
A
heart
unspotted
is
not
easily
daunted
.
The
purest
spring
is
not
so
free
from
mud
As
I
am
clear
from
treason
to
my
sovereign
.
Who
can
accuse
me
?
Wherein
am
I
guilty
?
’Tis
thought
,
my
lord
,
that
you
took
bribes
of
France
And
,
being
Protector
,
stayed
the
soldiers’
pay
,
By
means
whereof
his
Highness
hath
lost
France
.
Is
it
but
thought
so
?
What
are
they
that
think
it
?
ACT 3. SC. 1
I
never
robbed
the
soldiers
of
their
pay
Nor
ever
had
one
penny
bribe
from
France
.
So
help
me
God
as
I
have
watched
the
night
—
Ay
,
night
by
night
—
in
studying
good
for
England
!
That
doit
that
e’er
I
wrested
from
the
King
,
Or
any
groat
I
hoarded
to
my
use
,
Be
brought
against
me
at
my
trial
day
!
No
,
many
a
pound
of
mine
own
proper
store
,
Because
I
would
not
tax
the
needy
Commons
,
Have
I
dispursèd
to
the
garrisons
And
never
asked
for
restitution
.
It
serves
you
well
,
my
lord
,
to
say
so
much
.
I
say
no
more
than
truth
,
so
help
me
God
.
In
your
protectorship
,
you
did
devise
Strange
tortures
for
offenders
,
never
heard
of
,
That
England
was
defamed
by
tyranny
.
Why
,
’tis
well
known
that
whiles
I
was
Protector
,
Pity
was
all
the
fault
that
was
in
me
;
For
I
should
melt
at
an
offender’s
tears
,
And
lowly
words
were
ransom
for
their
fault
.
Unless
it
were
a
bloody
murderer
Or
foul
felonious
thief
that
fleeced
poor
passengers
,
I
never
gave
them
condign
punishment
.
Murder
indeed
,
that
bloody
sin
,
I
tortured
Above
the
felon
or
what
trespass
else
.
My
lord
,
these
faults
are
easy
,
quickly
answered
;
But
mightier
crimes
are
laid
unto
your
charge
Whereof
you
cannot
easily
purge
yourself
.
I
do
arrest
you
in
his
Highness’
name
,
And
here
commit
you
to
my
Lord
Cardinal
To
keep
until
your
further
time
of
trial
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
My
lord
of
Gloucester
,
’tis
my
special
hope
That
you
will
clear
yourself
from
all
suspense
.
My
conscience
tells
me
you
are
innocent
.
Ah
,
gracious
lord
,
these
days
are
dangerous
.
Virtue
is
choked
with
foul
ambition
,
And
charity
chased
hence
by
rancor’s
hand
;
Foul
subornation
is
predominant
,
And
equity
exiled
your
Highness’
land
.
I
know
their
complot
is
to
have
my
life
;
And
if
my
death
might
make
this
island
happy
And
prove
the
period
of
their
tyranny
,
I
would
expend
it
with
all
willingness
.
But
mine
is
made
the
prologue
to
their
play
;
For
thousands
more
,
that
yet
suspect
no
peril
,
Will
not
conclude
their
plotted
tragedy
.
Beaufort’s
red
sparkling
eyes
blab
his
heart’s
malice
,
And
Suffolk’s
cloudy
brow
his
stormy
hate
;
Sharp
Buckingham
unburdens
with
his
tongue
The
envious
load
that
lies
upon
his
heart
;
And
dogged
York
,
that
reaches
at
the
moon
,
Whose
overweening
arm
I
have
plucked
back
,
By
false
accuse
doth
level
at
my
life
.
—
And
you
,
my
sovereign
lady
,
with
the
rest
,
Causeless
have
laid
disgraces
on
my
head
And
with
your
best
endeavor
have
stirred
up
My
liefest
liege
to
be
mine
enemy
.
Ay
,
all
of
you
have
laid
your
heads
together
—
Myself
had
notice
of
your
conventicles
—
And
all
to
make
away
my
guiltless
life
.
I
shall
not
want
false
witness
to
condemn
me
Nor
store
of
treasons
to
augment
my
guilt
.
The
ancient
proverb
will
be
well
effected
:
A
staff
is
quickly
found
to
beat
a
dog
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
My
liege
,
his
railing
is
intolerable
.
If
those
that
care
to
keep
your
royal
person
From
treason’s
secret
knife
and
traitor’s
rage
Be
thus
upbraided
,
chid
,
and
rated
at
,
And
the
offender
granted
scope
of
speech
,
’Twill
make
them
cool
in
zeal
unto
your
Grace
.
Hath
he
not
twit
our
sovereign
lady
here
With
ignominious
words
,
though
clerkly
couched
,
As
if
she
had
subornèd
some
to
swear
False
allegations
to
o’erthrow
his
state
?
But
I
can
give
the
loser
leave
to
chide
.
Far
truer
spoke
than
meant
.
I
lose
,
indeed
;
Beshrew
the
winners
,
for
they
played
me
false
!
And
well
such
losers
may
have
leave
to
speak
.
He’ll
wrest
the
sense
and
hold
us
here
all
day
.
Lord
Cardinal
,
he
is
your
prisoner
.
,
to
his
Men
Sirs
,
take
away
the
Duke
,
and
guard
him
sure
.
Ah
,
thus
King
Henry
throws
away
his
crutch
Before
his
legs
be
firm
to
bear
his
body
.
—
Thus
is
the
shepherd
beaten
from
thy
side
,
And
wolves
are
gnarling
who
shall
gnaw
thee
first
.
Ah
,
that
my
fear
were
false
;
ah
,
that
it
were
!
For
,
good
King
Henry
,
thy
decay
I
fear
.
Gloucester
exits
,
guarded
by
Cardinal’s
Men
.
My
lords
,
what
to
your
wisdoms
seemeth
best
Do
,
or
undo
,
as
if
ourself
were
here
.
What
,
will
your
Highness
leave
the
Parliament
?
ACT 3. SC. 1
Ay
,
Margaret
.
My
heart
is
drowned
with
grief
,
Whose
flood
begins
to
flow
within
mine
eyes
,
My
body
round
engirt
with
misery
;
For
what’s
more
miserable
than
discontent
?
Ah
,
uncle
Humphrey
,
in
thy
face
I
see
The
map
of
honor
,
truth
,
and
loyalty
;
And
yet
,
good
Humphrey
,
is
the
hour
to
come
That
e’er
I
proved
thee
false
or
feared
thy
faith
.
What
louring
star
now
envies
thy
estate
That
these
great
lords
and
Margaret
our
queen
Do
seek
subversion
of
thy
harmless
life
?
Thou
never
didst
them
wrong
nor
no
man
wrong
.
And
as
the
butcher
takes
away
the
calf
And
binds
the
wretch
and
beats
it
when
it
strains
,
Bearing
it
to
the
bloody
slaughterhouse
,
Even
so
remorseless
have
they
borne
him
hence
;
And
as
the
dam
runs
lowing
up
and
down
,
Looking
the
way
her
harmless
young
one
went
,
And
can
do
naught
but
wail
her
darling’s
loss
,
Even
so
myself
bewails
good
Gloucester’s
case
With
sad
unhelpful
tears
,
and
with
dimmed
eyes
Look
after
him
and
cannot
do
him
good
,
So
mighty
are
his
vowèd
enemies
.
His
fortunes
I
will
weep
and
,
’twixt
each
groan
,
Say
Who’s
a
traitor
,
Gloucester
he
is
none
.
He
exits
,
with
Buckingham
,
Salisbury
,
Warwick
,
and
Others
.
Somerset
steps
aside
.
,
to
Cardinal
,
Suffolk
,
and
York
Free
lords
,
cold
snow
melts
with
the
sun’s
hot
beams
.
Henry
my
lord
is
cold
in
great
affairs
,
Too
full
of
foolish
pity
;
and
Gloucester’s
show
Beguiles
him
,
as
the
mournful
crocodile
With
sorrow
snares
relenting
passengers
,
Or
as
the
snake
,
rolled
in
a
flow’ring
bank
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
With
shining
checkered
slough
,
doth
sting
a
child
That
for
the
beauty
thinks
it
excellent
.
Believe
me
,
lords
,
were
none
more
wise
than
I
—
And
yet
herein
I
judge
mine
own
wit
good
—
This
Gloucester
should
be
quickly
rid
the
world
,
To
rid
us
from
the
fear
we
have
of
him
.
That
he
should
die
is
worthy
policy
,
But
yet
we
want
a
color
for
his
death
.
’Tis
meet
he
be
condemned
by
course
of
law
.
But
,
in
my
mind
,
that
were
no
policy
.
The
King
will
labor
still
to
save
his
life
,
The
Commons
haply
rise
to
save
his
life
,
And
yet
we
have
but
trivial
argument
,
More
than
mistrust
,
that
shows
him
worthy
death
.
So
that
,
by
this
,
you
would
not
have
him
die
.
Ah
,
York
,
no
man
alive
so
fain
as
I
!
’Tis
York
that
hath
more
reason
for
his
death
.
But
,
my
Lord
Cardinal
,
and
you
,
my
lord
of
Suffolk
,
Say
as
you
think
,
and
speak
it
from
your
souls
:
Were
’t
not
all
one
an
empty
eagle
were
set
To
guard
the
chicken
from
a
hungry
kite
As
place
Duke
Humphrey
for
the
King’s
Protector
?
So
the
poor
chicken
should
be
sure
of
death
.
Madam
,
’tis
true
;
and
were
’t
not
madness
then
To
make
the
fox
surveyor
of
the
fold
—
Who
,
being
accused
a
crafty
murderer
,
His
guilt
should
be
but
idly
posted
over
Because
his
purpose
is
not
executed
?
No
,
let
him
die
in
that
he
is
a
fox
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
By
nature
proved
an
enemy
to
the
flock
,
Before
his
chaps
be
stained
with
crimson
blood
,
As
Humphrey
,
proved
by
reasons
,
to
my
liege
.
And
do
not
stand
on
quillets
how
to
slay
him
—
Be
it
by
gins
,
by
snares
,
by
subtlety
,
Sleeping
or
waking
.
’Tis
no
matter
how
,
So
he
be
dead
;
for
that
is
good
deceit
Which
mates
him
first
that
first
intends
deceit
.
Thrice
noble
Suffolk
,
’tis
resolutely
spoke
.
Not
resolute
,
except
so
much
were
done
,
For
things
are
often
spoke
and
seldom
meant
;
But
that
my
heart
accordeth
with
my
tongue
,
Seeing
the
deed
is
meritorious
,
And
to
preserve
my
sovereign
from
his
foe
,
Say
but
the
word
and
I
will
be
his
priest
.
But
I
would
have
him
dead
,
my
lord
of
Suffolk
,
Ere
you
can
take
due
orders
for
a
priest
.
Say
you
consent
and
censure
well
the
deed
,
And
I’ll
provide
his
executioner
.
I
tender
so
the
safety
of
my
liege
.
Here
is
my
hand
.
The
deed
is
worthy
doing
.
And
so
say
I
.
And
I
.
And
now
we
three
have
spoke
it
,
It
skills
not
greatly
who
impugns
our
doom
.
Enter
a
Post
.
Great
lords
,
from
Ireland
am
I
come
amain
To
signify
that
rebels
there
are
up
And
put
the
Englishmen
unto
the
sword
.
Send
succors
,
lords
,
and
stop
the
rage
betime
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
Before
the
wound
do
grow
uncurable
;
For
,
being
green
,
there
is
great
hope
of
help
.
He
exits
.
A
breach
that
craves
a
quick
expedient
stop
!
What
counsel
give
you
in
this
weighty
cause
?
That
Somerset
be
sent
as
regent
thither
.
’Tis
meet
that
lucky
ruler
be
employed
—
Witness
the
fortune
he
hath
had
in
France
.
,
advancing
If
York
,
with
all
his
far-fet
policy
,
Had
been
the
regent
there
instead
of
me
,
He
never
would
have
stayed
in
France
so
long
.
No
,
not
to
lose
it
all
,
as
thou
hast
done
.
I
rather
would
have
lost
my
life
betimes
Than
bring
a
burden
of
dishonor
home
By
staying
there
so
long
till
all
were
lost
.
Show
me
one
scar
charactered
on
thy
skin
.
Men’s
flesh
preserved
so
whole
do
seldom
win
.
Nay
,
then
,
this
spark
will
prove
a
raging
fire
If
wind
and
fuel
be
brought
to
feed
it
with
.
—
No
more
,
good
York
.
—
Sweet
Somerset
,
be
still
.
—
Thy
fortune
,
York
,
hadst
thou
been
regent
there
,
Might
happily
have
proved
far
worse
than
his
.
What
,
worse
than
naught
?
Nay
,
then
,
a
shame
take
all
!
And
,
in
the
number
,
thee
that
wishest
shame
!
My
lord
of
York
,
try
what
your
fortune
is
.
Th’
uncivil
kerns
of
Ireland
are
in
arms
And
temper
clay
with
blood
of
Englishmen
.
ACT 3. SC. 1
To
Ireland
will
you
lead
a
band
of
men
,
Collected
choicely
,
from
each
county
some
,
And
try
your
hap
against
the
Irishmen
?
I
will
,
my
lord
,
so
please
his
Majesty
.
Why
,
our
authority
is
his
consent
,
And
what
we
do
establish
he
confirms
.
Then
,
noble
York
,
take
thou
this
task
in
hand
.
I
am
content
.
Provide
me
soldiers
,
lords
,
Whiles
I
take
order
for
mine
own
affairs
.
A
charge
,
Lord
York
,
that
I
will
see
performed
.
But
now
return
we
to
the
false
Duke
Humphrey
.
No
more
of
him
,
for
I
will
deal
with
him
,
That
henceforth
he
shall
trouble
us
no
more
.
And
so
break
off
;
the
day
is
almost
spent
.
Lord
Suffolk
,
you
and
I
must
talk
of
that
event
.
My
lord
of
Suffolk
,
within
fourteen
days
At
Bristow
I
expect
my
soldiers
,
For
there
I’ll
ship
them
all
for
Ireland
.
I’ll
see
it
truly
done
,
my
lord
of
York
.
All
but
York
exit
.
Now
,
York
,
or
never
,
steel
thy
fearful
thoughts
And
change
misdoubt
to
resolution
.
Be
that
thou
hop’st
to
be
,
or
what
thou
art
Resign
to
death
;
it
is
not
worth
th’
enjoying
.
Let
pale-faced
fear
keep
with
the
mean-born
man
And
find
no
harbor
in
a
royal
heart
.
Faster
than
springtime
showers
comes
thought
on
thought
,
ACT 3. SC. 1
And
not
a
thought
but
thinks
on
dignity
.
My
brain
,
more
busy
than
the
laboring
spider
,
Weaves
tedious
snares
to
trap
mine
enemies
.
Well
,
nobles
,
well
,
’tis
politicly
done
To
send
me
packing
with
an
host
of
men
.
I
fear
me
you
but
warm
the
starvèd
snake
,
Who
,
cherished
in
your
breasts
,
will
sting
your
hearts
.
’Twas
men
I
lacked
,
and
you
will
give
them
me
;
I
take
it
kindly
.
Yet
be
well
assured
You
put
sharp
weapons
in
a
madman’s
hands
.
Whiles
I
in
Ireland
nourish
a
mighty
band
,
I
will
stir
up
in
England
some
black
storm
Shall
blow
ten
thousand
souls
to
heaven
or
hell
;
And
this
fell
tempest
shall
not
cease
to
rage
Until
the
golden
circuit
on
my
head
,
Like
to
the
glorious
sun’s
transparent
beams
,
Do
calm
the
fury
of
this
mad-bred
flaw
.
And
for
a
minister
of
my
intent
,
I
have
seduced
a
headstrong
Kentishman
,
John
Cade
of
Ashford
,
To
make
commotion
,
as
full
well
he
can
,
Under
the
title
of
John
Mortimer
.
In
Ireland
have
I
seen
this
stubborn
Cade
Oppose
himself
against
a
troop
of
kerns
,
And
fought
so
long
till
that
his
thighs
with
darts
Were
almost
like
a
sharp-quilled
porpentine
;
And
in
the
end
being
rescued
,
I
have
seen
Him
caper
upright
like
a
wild
Morisco
,
Shaking
the
bloody
darts
as
he
his
bells
.
Full
often
,
like
a
shag-haired
crafty
kern
,
Hath
he
conversèd
with
the
enemy
,
And
undiscovered
come
to
me
again
And
given
me
notice
of
their
villainies
.
This
devil
here
shall
be
my
substitute
;
For
that
John
Mortimer
,
which
now
is
dead
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
In
face
,
in
gait
,
in
speech
he
doth
resemble
.
By
this
,
I
shall
perceive
the
Commons’
mind
,
How
they
affect
the
house
and
claim
of
York
.
Say
he
be
taken
,
racked
,
and
torturèd
,
I
know
no
pain
they
can
inflict
upon
him
Will
make
him
say
I
moved
him
to
those
arms
.
Say
that
he
thrive
,
as
’tis
great
like
he
will
,
Why
then
from
Ireland
come
I
with
my
strength
And
reap
the
harvest
which
that
rascal
sowed
.
For
,
Humphrey
being
dead
,
as
he
shall
be
,
And
Henry
put
apart
,
the
next
for
me
.
He
exits
.
Scene
2
Enter
two
or
three
running
over
the
stage
,
from
the
murder
of
Duke
Humphrey
.
Run
to
my
lord
of
Suffolk
.
Let
him
know
We
have
dispatched
the
Duke
as
he
commanded
.
O
,
that
it
were
to
do
!
What
have
we
done
?
Didst
ever
hear
a
man
so
penitent
?
Enter
Suffolk
.
Here
comes
my
lord
.
Now
,
sirs
,
have
you
dispatched
this
thing
?
Ay
,
my
good
lord
,
he’s
dead
.
Why
,
that’s
well
said
.
Go
,
get
you
to
my
house
;
I
will
reward
you
for
this
venturous
deed
.
The
King
and
all
the
peers
are
here
at
hand
.
Have
you
laid
fair
the
bed
?
Is
all
things
well
,
According
as
I
gave
directions
?
’Tis
,
my
good
lord
.
Away
,
be
gone
.
The
Murderers
exit
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Sound
trumpets
.
Enter
King
Henry
,
Queen
Margaret
,
Cardinal
,
Somerset
,
with
Attendants
.
Go
,
call
our
uncle
to
our
presence
straight
.
Say
we
intend
to
try
his
Grace
today
If
he
be
guilty
,
as
’tis
publishèd
.
I’ll
call
him
presently
,
my
noble
lord
.
He
exits
.
Lords
,
take
your
places
;
and
,
I
pray
you
all
,
Proceed
no
straiter
’gainst
our
uncle
Gloucester
Than
from
true
evidence
of
good
esteem
He
be
approved
in
practice
culpable
.
God
forbid
any
malice
should
prevail
That
faultless
may
condemn
a
nobleman
!
Pray
God
he
may
acquit
him
of
suspicion
!
I
thank
thee
,
Meg
.
These
words
content
me
much
.
Enter
Suffolk
.
How
now
?
Why
look’st
thou
pale
?
Why
tremblest
thou
?
Where
is
our
uncle
?
What’s
the
matter
,
Suffolk
?
Dead
in
his
bed
,
my
lord
.
Gloucester
is
dead
.
Marry
,
God
forfend
!
God’s
secret
judgment
.
I
did
dream
tonight
The
Duke
was
dumb
and
could
not
speak
a
word
.
King
Henry
swoons
.
How
fares
my
lord
?
Help
,
lords
,
the
King
is
dead
!
Rear
up
his
body
.
Wring
him
by
the
nose
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Run
,
go
,
help
,
help
!
O
Henry
,
ope
thine
eyes
!
King
Henry
stirs
.
He
doth
revive
again
.
Madam
,
be
patient
.
O
heavenly
God
!
How
fares
my
gracious
lord
?
Comfort
,
my
sovereign
!
Gracious
Henry
,
comfort
!
What
,
doth
my
lord
of
Suffolk
comfort
me
?
Came
he
right
now
to
sing
a
raven’s
note
,
Whose
dismal
tune
bereft
my
vital
powers
,
And
thinks
he
that
the
chirping
of
a
wren
,
By
crying
comfort
from
a
hollow
breast
,
Can
chase
away
the
first-conceivèd
sound
?
Hide
not
thy
poison
with
such
sugared
words
.
Lay
not
thy
hands
on
me
.
Forbear
,
I
say
!
Their
touch
affrights
me
as
a
serpent’s
sting
.
Thou
baleful
messenger
,
out
of
my
sight
!
Upon
thy
eyeballs
,
murderous
Tyranny
Sits
in
grim
majesty
to
fright
the
world
.
Look
not
upon
me
,
for
thine
eyes
are
wounding
.
Yet
do
not
go
away
.
Come
,
basilisk
,
And
kill
the
innocent
gazer
with
thy
sight
;
For
in
the
shade
of
death
I
shall
find
joy
,
In
life
but
double
death
,
now
Gloucester’s
dead
.
Why
do
you
rate
my
lord
of
Suffolk
thus
?
Although
the
Duke
was
enemy
to
him
,
Yet
he
most
Christian-like
laments
his
death
.
And
for
myself
,
foe
as
he
was
to
me
,
Might
liquid
tears
or
heart-offending
groans
Or
blood-consuming
sighs
recall
his
life
,
I
would
be
blind
with
weeping
,
sick
with
groans
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
Look
pale
as
primrose
with
blood-drinking
sighs
,
And
all
to
have
the
noble
duke
alive
.
What
know
I
how
the
world
may
deem
of
me
?
For
it
is
known
we
were
but
hollow
friends
.
It
may
be
judged
I
made
the
Duke
away
;
So
shall
my
name
with
slander’s
tongue
be
wounded
And
princes’
courts
be
filled
with
my
reproach
.
This
get
I
by
his
death
.
Ay
me
,
unhappy
,
To
be
a
queen
and
crowned
with
infamy
!
Ah
,
woe
is
me
for
Gloucester
,
wretched
man
!
Be
woe
for
me
,
more
wretched
than
he
is
.
What
,
dost
thou
turn
away
and
hide
thy
face
?
I
am
no
loathsome
leper
.
Look
on
me
.
What
,
art
thou
,
like
the
adder
,
waxen
deaf
?
Be
poisonous
too
,
and
kill
thy
forlorn
queen
.
Is
all
thy
comfort
shut
in
Gloucester’s
tomb
?
Why
,
then
,
Dame
Margaret
was
ne’er
thy
joy
.
Erect
his
statue
and
worship
it
,
And
make
my
image
but
an
alehouse
sign
.
Was
I
for
this
nigh-wracked
upon
the
sea
And
twice
by
awkward
wind
from
England’s
bank
Drove
back
again
unto
my
native
clime
?
What
boded
this
,
but
well
forewarning
wind
Did
seem
to
say
Seek
not
a
scorpion’s
nest
,
Nor
set
no
footing
on
this
unkind
shore
?
What
did
I
then
but
cursed
the
gentle
gusts
And
he
that
loosed
them
forth
their
brazen
caves
And
bid
them
blow
towards
England’s
blessèd
shore
Or
turn
our
stern
upon
a
dreadful
rock
?
Yet
Aeolus
would
not
be
a
murderer
,
But
left
that
hateful
office
unto
thee
.
The
pretty-vaulting
sea
refused
to
drown
me
,
Knowing
that
thou
wouldst
have
me
drowned
on
shore
ACT 3. SC. 2
With
tears
as
salt
as
sea
,
through
thy
unkindness
.
The
splitting
rocks
cow’red
in
the
sinking
sands
And
would
not
dash
me
with
their
ragged
sides
Because
thy
flinty
heart
,
more
hard
than
they
,
Might
in
thy
palace
perish
Margaret
.
As
far
as
I
could
ken
thy
chalky
cliffs
,
When
from
thy
shore
the
tempest
beat
us
back
,
I
stood
upon
the
hatches
in
the
storm
,
And
when
the
dusky
sky
began
to
rob
My
earnest-gaping
sight
of
thy
land’s
view
,
I
took
a
costly
jewel
from
my
neck
—
A
heart
it
was
,
bound
in
with
diamonds
—
And
threw
it
towards
thy
land
.
The
sea
received
it
,
And
so
I
wished
thy
body
might
my
heart
.
And
even
with
this
I
lost
fair
England’s
view
,
And
bid
mine
eyes
be
packing
with
my
heart
,
And
called
them
blind
and
dusky
spectacles
For
losing
ken
of
Albion’s
wishèd
coast
.
How
often
have
I
tempted
Suffolk’s
tongue
,
The
agent
of
thy
foul
inconstancy
,
To
sit
and
watch
me
,
as
Ascanius
did
When
he
to
madding
Dido
would
unfold
His
father’s
acts
commenced
in
burning
Troy
!
Am
I
not
witched
like
her
,
or
thou
not
false
like
him
?
Ay
me
,
I
can
no
more
.
Die
,
Margaret
,
For
Henry
weeps
that
thou
dost
live
so
long
.
Noise
within
.
Enter
Warwick
and
Salisbury
,
and
many
Commons
.
It
is
reported
,
mighty
sovereign
,
That
good
Duke
Humphrey
traitorously
is
murdered
By
Suffolk
and
the
Cardinal
Beaufort’s
means
.
The
Commons
,
like
an
angry
hive
of
bees
That
want
their
leader
,
scatter
up
and
down
ACT 3. SC. 2
And
care
not
who
they
sting
in
his
revenge
.
Myself
have
calmed
their
spleenful
mutiny
,
Until
they
hear
the
order
of
his
death
.
That
he
is
dead
,
good
Warwick
,
’tis
too
true
;
But
how
he
died
God
knows
,
not
Henry
.
Enter
his
chamber
,
view
his
breathless
corpse
,
And
comment
then
upon
his
sudden
death
.
That
shall
I
do
,
my
liege
.
—
Stay
,
Salisbury
,
With
the
rude
multitude
till
I
return
.
Warwick
exits
through
one
door
;
Salisbury
and
Commons
exit
through
another
.
O
Thou
that
judgest
all
things
,
stay
my
thoughts
,
My
thoughts
that
labor
to
persuade
my
soul
Some
violent
hands
were
laid
on
Humphrey’s
life
.
If
my
suspect
be
false
,
forgive
me
,
God
,
For
judgment
only
doth
belong
to
Thee
.
Fain
would
I
go
to
chafe
his
paly
lips
With
twenty
thousand
kisses
,
and
to
drain
Upon
his
face
an
ocean
of
salt
tears
,
To
tell
my
love
unto
his
dumb
deaf
trunk
And
with
my
fingers
feel
his
hand
unfeeling
;
But
all
in
vain
are
these
mean
obsequies
.
And
to
survey
his
dead
and
earthy
image
,
What
were
it
but
to
make
my
sorrow
greater
?
Bed
put
forth
,
bearing
Gloucester’s
body
.
Enter
Warwick
.
Come
hither
,
gracious
sovereign
.
View
this
body
.
That
is
to
see
how
deep
my
grave
is
made
,
For
with
his
soul
fled
all
my
worldly
solace
;
For
seeing
him
,
I
see
my
life
in
death
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
As
surely
as
my
soul
intends
to
live
With
that
dread
King
that
took
our
state
upon
Him
To
free
us
from
His
Father’s
wrathful
curse
,
I
do
believe
that
violent
hands
were
laid
Upon
the
life
of
this
thrice-famèd
duke
.
A
dreadful
oath
,
sworn
with
a
solemn
tongue
!
What
instance
gives
Lord
Warwick
for
his
vow
?
See
how
the
blood
is
settled
in
his
face
.
Oft
have
I
seen
a
timely-parted
ghost
,
Of
ashy
semblance
,
meager
,
pale
,
and
bloodless
,
Being
all
descended
to
the
laboring
heart
,
Who
,
in
the
conflict
that
it
holds
with
death
,
Attracts
the
same
for
aidance
’gainst
the
enemy
,
Which
with
the
heart
there
cools
and
ne’er
returneth
To
blush
and
beautify
the
cheek
again
.
But
see
,
his
face
is
black
and
full
of
blood
;
His
eyeballs
further
out
than
when
he
lived
,
Staring
full
ghastly
,
like
a
strangled
man
;
His
hair
upreared
,
his
nostrils
stretched
with
struggling
;
His
hands
abroad
displayed
,
as
one
that
grasped
And
tugged
for
life
and
was
by
strength
subdued
.
Look
,
on
the
sheets
his
hair
,
you
see
,
is
sticking
;
His
well-proportioned
beard
made
rough
and
rugged
,
Like
to
the
summer’s
corn
by
tempest
lodged
.
It
cannot
be
but
he
was
murdered
here
.
The
least
of
all
these
signs
were
probable
.
The
bed
is
removed
.
Why
,
Warwick
,
who
should
do
the
Duke
to
death
?
ACT 3. SC. 2
Myself
and
Beaufort
had
him
in
protection
,
And
we
,
I
hope
,
sir
,
are
no
murderers
.
But
both
of
you
were
vowed
Duke
Humphrey’s
foes
,
To
Cardinal
.
And
you
,
forsooth
,
had
the
good
duke
to
keep
.
’Tis
like
you
would
not
feast
him
like
a
friend
,
And
’tis
well
seen
he
found
an
enemy
.
Then
you
,
belike
,
suspect
these
noblemen
As
guilty
of
Duke
Humphrey’s
timeless
death
.
Who
finds
the
heifer
dead
and
bleeding
fresh
,
And
sees
fast
by
a
butcher
with
an
ax
,
But
will
suspect
’twas
he
that
made
the
slaughter
?
Who
finds
the
partridge
in
the
puttock’s
nest
But
may
imagine
how
the
bird
was
dead
,
Although
the
kite
soar
with
unbloodied
beak
?
Even
so
suspicious
is
this
tragedy
.
Are
you
the
butcher
,
Suffolk
?
Where’s
your
knife
?
Is
Beaufort
termed
a
kite
?
Where
are
his
talons
?
I
wear
no
knife
to
slaughter
sleeping
men
,
But
here’s
a
vengeful
sword
,
rusted
with
ease
,
That
shall
be
scoured
in
his
rancorous
heart
That
slanders
me
with
murder’s
crimson
badge
.
—
Say
,
if
thou
dar’st
,
proud
lord
of
Warwickshire
,
That
I
am
faulty
in
Duke
Humphrey’s
death
.
What
dares
not
Warwick
,
if
false
Suffolk
dare
him
?
He
dares
not
calm
his
contumelious
spirit
Nor
cease
to
be
an
arrogant
controller
,
Though
Suffolk
dare
him
twenty
thousand
times
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Madam
,
be
still
—
with
reverence
may
I
say
—
For
every
word
you
speak
in
his
behalf
Is
slander
to
your
royal
dignity
.
Blunt-witted
lord
,
ignoble
in
demeanor
!
If
ever
lady
wronged
her
lord
so
much
,
Thy
mother
took
into
her
blameful
bed
Some
stern
untutored
churl
,
and
noble
stock
Was
graft
with
crab-tree
slip
,
whose
fruit
thou
art
And
never
of
the
Nevilles’
noble
race
.
But
that
the
guilt
of
murder
bucklers
thee
And
I
should
rob
the
deathsman
of
his
fee
,
Quitting
thee
thereby
of
ten
thousand
shames
,
And
that
my
sovereign’s
presence
makes
me
mild
,
I
would
,
false
murd’rous
coward
,
on
thy
knee
Make
thee
beg
pardon
for
thy
passèd
speech
And
say
it
was
thy
mother
that
thou
meant’st
,
That
thou
thyself
wast
born
in
bastardy
;
And
after
all
this
fearful
homage
done
,
Give
thee
thy
hire
and
send
thy
soul
to
hell
,
Pernicious
bloodsucker
of
sleeping
men
!
Thou
shalt
be
waking
while
I
shed
thy
blood
,
If
from
this
presence
thou
dar’st
go
with
me
.
Away
even
now
,
or
I
will
drag
thee
hence
!
Unworthy
though
thou
art
,
I’ll
cope
with
thee
And
do
some
service
to
Duke
Humphrey’s
ghost
.
Warwick
and
Suffolk
exit
.
What
stronger
breastplate
than
a
heart
untainted
?
Thrice
is
he
armed
that
hath
his
quarrel
just
,
And
he
but
naked
,
though
locked
up
in
steel
,
Whose
conscience
with
injustice
is
corrupted
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
A
noise
within
.
What
noise
is
this
?
Enter
Suffolk
and
Warwick
,
with
their
weapons
drawn
.
Why
,
how
now
,
lords
?
Your
wrathful
weapons
drawn
Here
in
our
presence
?
Dare
you
be
so
bold
?
Why
,
what
tumultuous
clamor
have
we
here
?
The
trait’rous
Warwick
,
with
the
men
of
Bury
,
Set
all
upon
me
,
mighty
sovereign
.
Enter
Salisbury
.
,
to
the
offstage
Commons
Sirs
,
stand
apart
.
The
King
shall
know
your
mind
.
—
Dread
lord
,
the
Commons
send
you
word
by
me
,
Unless
Lord
Suffolk
straight
be
done
to
death
Or
banishèd
fair
England’s
territories
,
They
will
by
violence
tear
him
from
your
palace
And
torture
him
with
grievous
ling’ring
death
.
They
say
,
by
him
the
good
duke
Humphrey
died
;
They
say
,
in
him
they
fear
your
Highness’
death
;
And
mere
instinct
of
love
and
loyalty
,
Free
from
a
stubborn
opposite
intent
,
As
being
thought
to
contradict
your
liking
,
Makes
them
thus
forward
in
his
banishment
.
They
say
,
in
care
of
your
most
royal
person
,
That
if
your
Highness
should
intend
to
sleep
,
And
charge
that
no
man
should
disturb
your
rest
,
In
pain
of
your
dislike
or
pain
of
death
,
Yet
,
notwithstanding
such
a
strait
edict
,
Were
there
a
serpent
seen
with
forkèd
tongue
That
slyly
glided
towards
your
Majesty
,
It
were
but
necessary
you
were
waked
,
Lest
,
being
suffered
in
that
harmful
slumber
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
The
mortal
worm
might
make
the
sleep
eternal
.
And
therefore
do
they
cry
,
though
you
forbid
,
That
they
will
guard
you
,
whe’er
you
will
or
no
,
From
such
fell
serpents
as
false
Suffolk
is
,
With
whose
envenomèd
and
fatal
sting
Your
loving
uncle
,
twenty
times
his
worth
,
They
say
,
is
shamefully
bereft
of
life
.
,
within
An
answer
from
the
King
,
my
lord
of
Salisbury
!
’Tis
like
the
Commons
,
rude
unpolished
hinds
,
Could
send
such
message
to
their
sovereign
!
To
Salisbury
.
But
you
,
my
lord
,
were
glad
to
be
employed
,
To
show
how
quaint
an
orator
you
are
.
But
all
the
honor
Salisbury
hath
won
Is
that
he
was
the
lord
ambassador
Sent
from
a
sort
of
tinkers
to
the
King
.
,
within
An
answer
from
the
King
,
or
we
will
all
break
in
.
Go
,
Salisbury
,
and
tell
them
all
from
me
,
I
thank
them
for
their
tender
loving
care
;
And
,
had
I
not
been
cited
so
by
them
,
Yet
did
I
purpose
as
they
do
entreat
.
For
,
sure
,
my
thoughts
do
hourly
prophesy
Mischance
unto
my
state
by
Suffolk’s
means
.
And
therefore
,
by
His
Majesty
I
swear
,
Whose
far
unworthy
deputy
I
am
,
He
shall
not
breathe
infection
in
this
air
But
three
days
longer
,
on
the
pain
of
death
.
Salisbury
exits
.
O
Henry
,
let
me
plead
for
gentle
Suffolk
!
Ungentle
queen
to
call
him
gentle
Suffolk
!
ACT 3. SC. 2
No
more
,
I
say
.
If
thou
dost
plead
for
him
,
Thou
wilt
but
add
increase
unto
my
wrath
.
Had
I
but
said
,
I
would
have
kept
my
word
;
But
when
I
swear
,
it
is
irrevocable
.
To
Suffolk
.
If
,
after
three
days’
space
,
thou
here
be’st
found
On
any
ground
that
I
am
ruler
of
,
The
world
shall
not
be
ransom
for
thy
life
.
—
Come
,
Warwick
,
come
,
good
Warwick
,
go
with
me
.
I
have
great
matters
to
impart
to
thee
.
All
but
the
Queen
and
Suffolk
exit
.
,
calling
after
King
Henry
and
Warwick
Mischance
and
sorrow
go
along
with
you
!
Heart’s
discontent
and
sour
affliction
Be
playfellows
to
keep
you
company
!
There’s
two
of
you
;
the
devil
make
a
third
,
And
threefold
vengeance
tend
upon
your
steps
!
Cease
,
gentle
queen
,
these
execrations
,
And
let
thy
Suffolk
take
his
heavy
leave
.
Fie
,
coward
woman
and
soft-hearted
wretch
!
Hast
thou
not
spirit
to
curse
thine
enemies
?
A
plague
upon
them
!
Wherefore
should
I
curse
them
?
Could
curses
kill
,
as
doth
the
mandrake’s
groan
,
I
would
invent
as
bitter
searching
terms
,
As
curst
,
as
harsh
,
and
horrible
to
hear
,
Delivered
strongly
through
my
fixèd
teeth
,
With
full
as
many
signs
of
deadly
hate
,
As
lean-faced
Envy
in
her
loathsome
cave
.
My
tongue
should
stumble
in
mine
earnest
words
;
Mine
eyes
should
sparkle
like
the
beaten
flint
;
Mine
hair
be
fixed
on
end
,
as
one
distract
;
ACT 3. SC. 2
Ay
,
every
joint
should
seem
to
curse
and
ban
;
And
even
now
my
burdened
heart
would
break
Should
I
not
curse
them
.
Poison
be
their
drink
!
Gall
,
worse
than
gall
,
the
daintiest
that
they
taste
;
Their
sweetest
shade
,
a
grove
of
cypress
trees
;
Their
chiefest
prospect
,
murd’ring
basilisks
;
Their
softest
touch
,
as
smart
as
lizards’
stings
!
Their
music
,
frightful
as
the
serpent’s
hiss
,
And
boding
screech
owls
make
the
consort
full
!
All
the
foul
terrors
in
dark-seated
hell
—
Enough
,
sweet
Suffolk
,
thou
torment’st
thyself
,
And
these
dread
curses
,
like
the
sun
’gainst
glass
,
Or
like
an
over-chargèd
gun
,
recoil
And
turn
the
force
of
them
upon
thyself
.
You
bade
me
ban
,
and
will
you
bid
me
leave
?
Now
,
by
the
ground
that
I
am
banished
from
,
Well
could
I
curse
away
a
winter’s
night
,
Though
standing
naked
on
a
mountain
top
Where
biting
cold
would
never
let
grass
grow
,
And
think
it
but
a
minute
spent
in
sport
.
O
,
let
me
entreat
thee
cease
!
Give
me
thy
hand
,
That
I
may
dew
it
with
my
mournful
tears
;
Nor
let
the
rain
of
heaven
wet
this
place
To
wash
away
my
woeful
monuments
.
She
kisses
his
hand
.
O
,
could
this
kiss
be
printed
in
thy
hand
,
That
thou
mightst
think
upon
these
by
the
seal
,
Through
whom
a
thousand
sighs
are
breathed
for
thee
!
So
,
get
thee
gone
,
that
I
may
know
my
grief
;
’Tis
but
surmised
whiles
thou
art
standing
by
,
As
one
that
surfeits
thinking
on
a
want
.
I
will
repeal
thee
,
or
,
be
well
assured
,
ACT 3. SC. 2
Adventure
to
be
banishèd
myself
;
And
banishèd
I
am
,
if
but
from
thee
.
Go
,
speak
not
to
me
.
Even
now
be
gone
!
O
,
go
not
yet
!
Even
thus
two
friends
condemned
Embrace
and
kiss
and
take
ten
thousand
leaves
,
Loather
a
hundred
times
to
part
than
die
.
They
embrace
.
Yet
now
farewell
,
and
farewell
life
with
thee
.
Thus
is
poor
Suffolk
ten
times
banishèd
,
Once
by
the
King
,
and
three
times
thrice
by
thee
.
’Tis
not
the
land
I
care
for
,
wert
thou
thence
.
A
wilderness
is
populous
enough
,
So
Suffolk
had
thy
heavenly
company
;
For
where
thou
art
,
there
is
the
world
itself
,
With
every
several
pleasure
in
the
world
;
And
where
thou
art
not
,
desolation
.
I
can
no
more
.
Live
thou
to
joy
thy
life
;
Myself
no
joy
in
naught
but
that
thou
liv’st
.
Enter
Vaux
.
Whither
goes
Vaux
so
fast
?
What
news
,
I
prithee
?
To
signify
unto
his
Majesty
,
That
Cardinal
Beaufort
is
at
point
of
death
;
For
suddenly
a
grievous
sickness
took
him
That
makes
him
gasp
and
stare
and
catch
the
air
,
Blaspheming
God
and
cursing
men
on
Earth
earth
.
Sometimes
he
talks
as
if
Duke
Humphrey’s
ghost
Were
by
his
side
;
sometimes
he
calls
the
King
And
whispers
to
his
pillow
,
as
to
him
,
The
secrets
of
his
overchargèd
soul
.
And
I
am
sent
to
tell
his
Majesty
That
even
now
he
cries
aloud
for
him
.
Go
,
tell
this
heavy
message
to
the
King
.
Vaux
exits
.
ACT 3. SC. 2
Ay
me
!
What
is
this
world
?
What
news
are
these
!
But
wherefore
grieve
I
at
an
hour’s
poor
loss
,
Omitting
Suffolk’s
exile
,
my
soul’s
treasure
?
Why
only
,
Suffolk
,
mourn
I
not
for
thee
,
And
with
the
southern
clouds
contend
in
tears
—
Theirs
for
the
earth’s
increase
,
mine
for
my
sorrows’
?
Now
get
thee
hence
.
The
King
,
thou
know’st
,
is
coming
;
If
thou
be
found
by
me
,
thou
art
but
dead
.
If
I
depart
from
thee
,
I
cannot
live
;
And
in
thy
sight
to
die
,
what
were
it
else
But
like
a
pleasant
slumber
in
thy
lap
?
Here
could
I
breathe
my
soul
into
the
air
,
As
mild
and
gentle
as
the
cradle
babe
Dying
with
mother’s
dug
between
its
lips
;
Where
,
from
thy
sight
,
I
should
be
raging
mad
And
cry
out
for
thee
to
close
up
mine
eyes
,
To
have
thee
with
thy
lips
to
stop
my
mouth
.
So
shouldst
thou
either
turn
my
flying
soul
,
Or
I
should
breathe
it
so
into
thy
body
,
And
then
it
lived
in
sweet
Elysium
.
To
die
by
thee
were
but
to
die
in
jest
;
From
thee
to
die
were
torture
more
than
death
.
O
,
let
me
stay
,
befall
what
may
befall
!
Away
!
Though
parting
be
a
fretful
corrosive
,
It
is
applièd
to
a
deathful
wound
.
To
France
,
sweet
Suffolk
.
Let
me
hear
from
thee
,
For
wheresoe’er
thou
art
in
this
world’s
globe
,
I’ll
have
an
Iris
that
shall
find
thee
out
.
I
go
.
And
take
my
heart
with
thee
.
A
jewel
locked
into
the
woefull’st
cask
ACT 3. SC. 3
That
ever
did
contain
a
thing
of
worth
!
Even
as
a
splitted
bark
,
so
sunder
we
.
This
way
fall
I
to
death
.
This
way
for
me
.
They
exit
through
different
doors
.
Scene
3
Enter
King
Henry
,
Salisbury
and
Warwick
,
to
the
Cardinal
in
bed
,
raving
and
staring
.
How
fares
my
lord
?
Speak
,
Beaufort
,
to
thy
sovereign
.
If
thou
be’st
Death
,
I’ll
give
thee
England’s
treasure
,
Enough
to
purchase
such
another
island
,
So
thou
wilt
let
me
live
and
feel
no
pain
.
Ah
,
what
a
sign
it
is
of
evil
life
,
Where
Death’s
approach
is
seen
so
terrible
!
Beaufort
,
it
is
thy
sovereign
speaks
to
thee
.
Bring
me
unto
my
trial
when
you
will
.
Died
he
not
in
his
bed
?
Where
should
he
die
?
Can
I
make
men
live
,
whe’er
they
will
or
no
?
O
,
torture
me
no
more
!
I
will
confess
.
Alive
again
?
Then
show
me
where
he
is
.
I’ll
give
a
thousand
pound
to
look
upon
him
.
He
hath
no
eyes
!
The
dust
hath
blinded
them
.
Comb
down
his
hair
.
Look
,
look
.
It
stands
upright
,
Like
lime-twigs
set
to
catch
my
wingèd
soul
.
Give
me
some
drink
,
and
bid
the
apothecary
Bring
the
strong
poison
that
I
bought
of
him
.
O
,
Thou
eternal
mover
of
the
heavens
,
ACT 3. SC. 3
Look
with
a
gentle
eye
upon
this
wretch
!
O
,
beat
away
the
busy
meddling
fiend
That
lays
strong
siege
unto
this
wretch’s
soul
,
And
from
his
bosom
purge
this
black
despair
!
See
how
the
pangs
of
death
do
make
him
grin
!
Disturb
him
not
.
Let
him
pass
peaceably
.
Peace
to
his
soul
,
if
God’s
good
pleasure
be
!
—
Lord
Card’nal
,
if
thou
think’st
on
heaven’s
bliss
,
Hold
up
thy
hand
;
make
signal
of
thy
hope
.
The
Cardinal
dies
.
He
dies
and
makes
no
sign
.
O
,
God
forgive
him
!
So
bad
a
death
argues
a
monstrous
life
.
Forbear
to
judge
,
for
we
are
sinners
all
.
Close
up
his
eyes
,
and
draw
the
curtain
close
,
And
let
us
all
to
meditation
.
After
the
curtains
are
closed
around
the
bed
,
they
exit
.
The
bed
is
removed
.
ACT
4
Scene
1
Alarum
.
Offstage
fight
at
sea
.
Ordnance
goes
off
.
Enter
Lieutenant
,
Suffolk
,
captive
and
in
disguise
,
and
Others
,
including
a
Master
,
a
Master’s
Mate
,
Walter
Whitmore
,
and
Prisoners
.
The
gaudy
,
blabbing
,
and
remorseful
day
Is
crept
into
the
bosom
of
the
sea
,
And
now
loud-howling
wolves
arouse
the
jades
That
drag
the
tragic
melancholy
night
,
Who
,
with
their
drowsy
,
slow
,
and
flagging
wings
Clip
dead
men’s
graves
,
and
from
their
misty
jaws
Breathe
foul
contagious
darkness
in
the
air
.
Therefore
bring
forth
the
soldiers
of
our
prize
;
For
,
whilst
our
pinnace
anchors
in
the
Downs
,
Here
shall
they
make
their
ransom
on
the
sand
,
Or
with
their
blood
stain
this
discolored
shore
.
—
Master
,
this
prisoner
freely
give
I
thee
.
—
And
,
thou
that
art
his
mate
,
make
boot
of
this
.
—
The
other
,
Walter
Whitmore
,
is
thy
share
.
Three
gentlemen
prisoners
,
including
Suffolk
,
are
handed
over
.
What
is
my
ransom
,
master
?
Let
me
know
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
A
thousand
crowns
,
or
else
lay
down
your
head
.
,
to
the
Second
Gentleman
And
so
much
shall
you
give
,
or
off
goes
yours
.
What
,
think
you
much
to
pay
two
thousand
crowns
,
And
bear
the
name
and
port
of
gentlemen
?
—
Cut
both
the
villains’
throats
—
for
die
you
shall
;
The
lives
of
those
which
we
have
lost
in
fight
Be
counterpoised
with
such
a
petty
sum
!
I’ll
give
it
,
sir
,
and
therefore
spare
my
life
.
And
so
will
I
,
and
write
home
for
it
straight
.
,
to
Suffolk
I
lost
mine
eye
in
laying
the
prize
aboard
,
And
therefore
to
revenge
it
shalt
thou
die
;
And
so
should
these
,
if
I
might
have
my
will
.
Be
not
so
rash
.
Take
ransom
;
let
him
live
.
Look
on
my
George
;
I
am
a
gentleman
.
Rate
me
at
what
thou
wilt
,
thou
shalt
be
paid
.
And
so
am
I
.
My
name
is
Walter
Whitmore
.
Suffolk
starts
.
How
now
,
why
starts
thou
?
What
,
doth
death
affright
?
Thy
name
affrights
me
,
in
whose
sound
is
death
.
A
cunning
man
did
calculate
my
birth
And
told
me
that
by
water
I
should
die
.
Yet
let
not
this
make
thee
be
bloody-minded
;
Thy
name
is
Gualtier
,
being
rightly
sounded
.
Gualtier
or
Walter
,
which
it
is
,
I
care
not
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Never
yet
did
base
dishonor
blur
our
name
But
with
our
sword
we
wiped
away
the
blot
.
Therefore
,
when
merchantlike
I
sell
revenge
,
Broke
be
my
sword
,
my
arms
torn
and
defaced
,
And
I
proclaimed
a
coward
through
the
world
!
Stay
,
Whitmore
,
for
thy
prisoner
is
a
prince
,
The
Duke
of
Suffolk
,
William
de
la
Pole
.
The
Duke
of
Suffolk
muffled
up
in
rags
?
Ay
,
but
these
rags
are
no
part
of
the
Duke
.
Jove
sometimes
went
disguised
,
and
why
not
I
?
But
Jove
was
never
slain
,
as
thou
shalt
be
.
Obscure
and
lousy
swain
,
King
Henry’s
blood
,
The
honorable
blood
of
Lancaster
,
Must
not
be
shed
by
such
a
jaded
groom
.
Hast
thou
not
kissed
thy
hand
and
held
my
stirrup
?
Bareheaded
plodded
by
my
footcloth
mule
,
And
thought
thee
happy
when
I
shook
my
head
?
How
often
hast
thou
waited
at
my
cup
,
Fed
from
my
trencher
,
kneeled
down
at
the
board
,
When
I
have
feasted
with
Queen
Margaret
?
Remember
it
,
and
let
it
make
thee
crestfall’n
,
Ay
,
and
allay
this
thy
abortive
pride
.
How
in
our
voiding
lobby
hast
thou
stood
And
duly
waited
for
my
coming
forth
?
This
hand
of
mine
hath
writ
in
thy
behalf
,
And
therefore
shall
it
charm
thy
riotous
tongue
.
Speak
,
captain
,
shall
I
stab
the
forlorn
swain
?
First
let
my
words
stab
him
as
he
hath
me
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Base
slave
,
thy
words
are
blunt
,
and
so
art
thou
.
Convey
him
hence
,
and
on
our
longboat’s
side
,
Strike
off
his
head
.
Thou
dar’st
not
for
thy
own
.
Yes
,
Pole
.
Pole
!
Pole
!
Sir
Pole
!
Lord
!
Ay
,
kennel
,
puddle
,
sink
,
whose
filth
and
dirt
Troubles
the
silver
spring
where
England
drinks
!
Now
will
I
dam
up
this
thy
yawning
mouth
For
swallowing
the
treasure
of
the
realm
.
Thy
lips
that
kissed
the
Queen
shall
sweep
the
ground
,
And
thou
that
smiledst
at
good
Duke
Humphrey’s
death
Against
the
senseless
winds
shall
grin
in
vain
,
Who
in
contempt
shall
hiss
at
thee
again
.
And
wedded
be
thou
to
the
hags
of
hell
For
daring
to
affy
a
mighty
lord
Unto
the
daughter
of
a
worthless
king
,
Having
neither
subject
,
wealth
,
nor
diadem
.
By
devilish
policy
art
thou
grown
great
,
And
,
like
ambitious
Sylla
,
overgorged
With
gobbets
of
thy
mother’s
bleeding
heart
.
By
thee
Anjou
and
Maine
were
sold
to
France
.
The
false
revolting
Normans
thorough
thee
Disdain
to
call
us
lord
,
and
Picardy
Hath
slain
their
governors
,
surprised
our
forts
,
And
sent
the
ragged
soldiers
wounded
home
.
The
princely
Warwick
,
and
the
Nevilles
all
,
Whose
dreadful
swords
were
never
drawn
in
vain
,
As
hating
thee
,
are
rising
up
in
arms
.
And
now
the
house
of
York
,
thrust
from
the
crown
ACT 4. SC. 1
By
shameful
murder
of
a
guiltless
king
And
lofty
,
proud
,
encroaching
tyranny
,
Burns
with
revenging
fire
,
whose
hopeful
colors
Advance
our
half-faced
sun
,
striving
to
shine
,
Under
the
which
is
writ
Invitis
nubibus
.
The
commons
here
in
Kent
are
up
in
arms
,
And
,
to
conclude
,
reproach
and
beggary
Is
crept
into
the
palace
of
our
king
,
And
all
by
thee
.
—
Away
!
Convey
him
hence
.
O
,
that
I
were
a
god
,
to
shoot
forth
thunder
Upon
these
paltry
,
servile
,
abject
drudges
!
Small
things
make
base
men
proud
.
This
villain
here
,
Being
captain
of
a
pinnace
,
threatens
more
Than
Bargulus
,
the
strong
Illyrian
pirate
.
Drones
suck
not
eagles’
blood
,
but
rob
beehives
.
It
is
impossible
that
I
should
die
By
such
a
lowly
vassal
as
thyself
.
Thy
words
move
rage
and
not
remorse
in
me
.
I
go
of
message
from
the
Queen
to
France
.
I
charge
thee
waft
me
safely
cross
the
Channel
.
Walter
.
Come
,
Suffolk
,
I
must
waft
thee
to
thy
death
.
Paene
gelidus
timor
occupat
artus
.
It
is
thee
I
fear
.
Thou
shalt
have
cause
to
fear
before
I
leave
thee
.
What
,
are
you
daunted
now
?
Now
will
you
stoop
?
My
gracious
lord
,
entreat
him
;
speak
him
fair
.
Suffolk’s
imperial
tongue
is
stern
and
rough
,
Used
to
command
,
untaught
to
plead
for
favor
.
ACT 4. SC. 1
Far
be
it
we
should
honor
such
as
these
With
humble
suit
.
No
,
rather
let
my
head
Stoop
to
the
block
than
these
knees
bow
to
any
Save
to
the
God
of
heaven
and
to
my
king
;
And
sooner
dance
upon
a
bloody
pole
Than
stand
uncovered
to
the
vulgar
groom
.
True
nobility
is
exempt
from
fear
.
—
More
can
I
bear
than
you
dare
execute
.
Hale
him
away
,
and
let
him
talk
no
more
.
Come
,
soldiers
,
show
what
cruelty
you
can
,
That
this
my
death
may
never
be
forgot
!
Great
men
oft
die
by
vile
bezonians
:
A
Roman
sworder
and
banditto
slave
Murdered
sweet
Tully
;
Brutus’
bastard
hand
Stabbed
Julius
Caesar
;
savage
islanders
Pompey
the
Great
,
and
Suffolk
dies
by
pirates
.
Walter
Whitmore
exits
with
Suffolk
and
Others
.
And
as
for
these
whose
ransom
we
have
set
,
It
is
our
pleasure
one
of
them
depart
.
To
Second
Gentleman
.
Therefore
come
you
with
us
,
and
let
him
go
.
Lieutenant
and
the
rest
exit
.
The
First
Gentleman
remains
.
Enter
Walter
Whitmore
with
the
body
and
severed
head
of
Suffolk
.
There
let
his
head
and
lifeless
body
lie
,
Until
the
Queen
his
mistress
bury
it
.
Walter
Whitmore
exits
.
O
,
barbarous
and
bloody
spectacle
!
His
body
will
I
bear
unto
the
King
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
If
he
revenge
it
not
,
yet
will
his
friends
.
So
will
the
Queen
,
that
living
held
him
dear
.
He
exits
with
the
head
and
body
.
Scene
2
Enter
Bevis
and
John
Holland
with
staves
.
Come
,
and
get
thee
a
sword
,
though
made
of
a
lath
.
They
have
been
up
these
two
days
.
They
have
the
more
need
to
sleep
now
,
then
.
I
tell
thee
,
Jack
Cade
the
clothier
means
to
dress
the
commonwealth
,
and
turn
it
,
and
set
a
new
nap
upon
it
.
So
he
had
need
,
for
’tis
threadbare
.
Well
,
I
say
,
it
was
never
merry
world
in
England
since
gentlemen
came
up
.
O
miserable
age
!
Virtue
is
not
regarded
in
handicraftsmen
.
The
nobility
think
scorn
to
go
in
leather
aprons
.
Nay
,
more
,
the
King’s
Council
are
no
good
workmen
.
True
,
and
yet
it
is
said
Labor
in
thy
vocation
,
which
is
as
much
to
say
as
Let
the
magistrates
be
laboring
men
.
And
therefore
should
we
be
magistrates
.
Thou
hast
hit
it
,
for
there’s
no
better
sign
of
a
brave
mind
than
a
hard
hand
.
I
see
them
,
I
see
them
!
There’s
Best’s
son
,
the
tanner
of
Wingham
—
He
shall
have
the
skins
of
our
enemies
to
make
dog’s
leather
of
.
And
Dick
the
butcher
—
Then
is
sin
struck
down
like
an
ox
,
and
iniquity’s
throat
cut
like
a
calf
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
And
Smith
the
weaver
.
Argo
,
their
thread
of
life
is
spun
.
Come
,
come
,
let’s
fall
in
with
them
.
Drum
.
Enter
Cade
,
Dick
the
butcher
,
Smith
the
weaver
,
and
a
Sawyer
,
with
infinite
numbers
,
all
with
staves
.
We
,
John
Cade
,
so
termed
of
our
supposed
father
—
,
aside
Or
rather
of
stealing
a
cade
of
herrings
.
For
our
enemies
shall
fall
before
us
,
inspired
with
the
spirit
of
putting
down
kings
and
princes
—
command
silence
.
Silence
!
My
father
was
a
Mortimer
—
,
aside
He
was
an
honest
man
and
a
good
bricklayer
.
My
mother
a
Plantagenet
—
,
aside
I
knew
her
well
;
she
was
a
midwife
.
My
wife
descended
of
the
Lacys
.
,
aside
She
was
indeed
a
peddler’s
daughter
,
and
sold
many
laces
.
,
aside
But
now
of
late
,
not
able
to
travel
with
her
furred
pack
,
she
washes
bucks
here
at
home
.
Therefore
am
I
of
an
honorable
house
.
,
aside
Ay
,
by
my
faith
,
the
field
is
honorable
;
and
there
was
he
born
,
under
a
hedge
,
for
his
father
had
never
a
house
but
the
cage
.
Valiant
I
am
—
,
aside
He
must
needs
,
for
beggary
is
valiant
.
I
am
able
to
endure
much
—
,
aside
No
question
of
that
;
for
I
have
seen
him
whipped
three
market-days
together
.
I
fear
neither
sword
nor
fire
.
,
aside
He
need
not
fear
the
sword
,
for
his
coat
is
of
proof
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
,
aside
But
methinks
he
should
stand
in
fear
of
fire
,
being
burnt
i’
th’
hand
for
stealing
of
sheep
.
Be
brave
,
then
,
for
your
captain
is
brave
and
vows
reformation
.
There
shall
be
in
England
seven
halfpenny
loaves
sold
for
a
penny
.
The
three-hooped
pot
shall
have
ten
hoops
,
and
I
will
make
it
felony
to
drink
small
beer
.
All
the
realm
shall
be
in
common
,
and
in
Cheapside
shall
my
palfrey
go
to
grass
.
And
when
I
am
king
,
as
king
I
will
be
—
God
save
your
Majesty
!
I
thank
you
,
good
people
.
—
There
shall
be
no
money
;
all
shall
eat
and
drink
on
my
score
;
and
I
will
apparel
them
all
in
one
livery
,
that
they
may
agree
like
brothers
and
worship
me
their
lord
.
The
first
thing
we
do
,
let’s
kill
all
the
lawyers
.
Nay
,
that
I
mean
to
do
.
Is
not
this
a
lamentable
thing
,
that
of
the
skin
of
an
innocent
lamb
should
be
made
parchment
?
That
parchment
,
being
scribbled
o’er
,
should
undo
a
man
?
Some
say
the
bee
stings
,
but
I
say
,
’tis
the
beeswax
;
for
I
did
but
seal
once
to
a
thing
,
and
I
was
never
mine
own
man
since
.
How
now
?
Who’s
there
?
Enter
a
Clerk
of
Chartham
,
under
guard
.
The
clerk
of
Chartham
.
He
can
write
and
read
and
cast
account
.
O
,
monstrous
!
We
took
him
setting
of
boys’
copies
.
Here’s
a
villain
!
H’as
a
book
in
his
pocket
with
red
letters
in
’t
.
Nay
,
then
,
he
is
a
conjurer
.
Nay
,
he
can
make
obligations
and
write
court
hand
.
I
am
sorry
for
’t
.
The
man
is
a
proper
man
,
of
mine
honor
.
Unless
I
find
him
guilty
,
he
shall
not
ACT 4. SC. 2
die
.
—
Come
hither
,
sirrah
;
I
must
examine
thee
.
What
is
thy
name
?
Emmanuel
.
They
use
to
write
it
on
the
top
of
letters
.
—
’Twill
go
hard
with
you
.
Let
me
alone
.
—
Dost
thou
use
to
write
thy
name
?
Or
hast
thou
a
mark
to
thyself
,
like
an
honest
,
plain-dealing
man
?
Sir
,
I
thank
God
,
I
have
been
so
well
brought
up
that
I
can
write
my
name
.
He
hath
confessed
.
Away
with
him
!
He’s
a
villain
and
a
traitor
.
Away
with
him
,
I
say
!
Hang
him
with
his
pen
and
inkhorn
about
his
neck
.
One
exits
with
the
Clerk
.
Enter
Michael
.
Where’s
our
general
?
Here
I
am
,
thou
particular
fellow
.
Fly
,
fly
,
fly
!
Sir
Humphrey
Stafford
and
his
brother
are
hard
by
,
with
the
King’s
forces
.
Stand
,
villain
,
stand
,
or
I’ll
fell
thee
down
.
He
shall
be
encountered
with
a
man
as
good
as
himself
.
He
is
but
a
knight
,
is
he
?
No
.
To
equal
him
I
will
make
myself
a
knight
presently
.
He
kneels
.
Rise
up
Sir
John
Mortimer
.
He
rises
.
Now
have
at
him
!
Enter
Sir
Humphrey
Stafford
and
his
Brother
,
with
a
Herald
,
Drum
,
and
Soldiers
.
Rebellious
hinds
,
the
filth
and
scum
of
Kent
,
Marked
for
the
gallows
,
lay
your
weapons
down
!
Home
to
your
cottages
;
forsake
this
groom
.
The
King
is
merciful
,
if
you
revolt
.
ACT 4. SC. 2
But
angry
,
wrathful
,
and
inclined
to
blood
,
If
you
go
forward
.
Therefore
yield
,
or
die
.
As
for
these
silken-coated
slaves
,
I
pass
not
.
It
is
to
you
,
good
people
,
that
I
speak
,
Over
whom
,
in
time
to
come
,
I
hope
to
reign
,
For
I
am
rightful
heir
unto
the
crown
.
Villain
,
thy
father
was
a
plasterer
,
And
thou
thyself
a
shearman
,
art
thou
not
?
And
Adam
was
a
gardener
.
And
what
of
that
?
Marry
,
this
:
Edmund
Mortimer
,
Earl
of
March
,
Married
the
Duke
of
Clarence’
daughter
,
did
he
not
?
Ay
,
sir
.
By
her
he
had
two
children
at
one
birth
.
That’s
false
.
Ay
,
there’s
the
question
.
But
I
say
’tis
true
.
The
elder
of
them
,
being
put
to
nurse
,
Was
by
a
beggar-woman
stol’n
away
,
And
,
ignorant
of
his
birth
and
parentage
,
Became
a
bricklayer
when
he
came
to
age
.
His
son
am
I
.
Deny
it
if
you
can
.
Nay
,
’tis
too
true
.
Therefore
he
shall
be
king
.
Sir
,
he
made
a
chimney
in
my
father’s
house
,
and
the
bricks
are
alive
at
this
day
to
testify
it
.
Therefore
deny
it
not
.
And
will
you
credit
this
base
drudge’s
words
,
That
speaks
he
knows
not
what
?
ACT 4. SC. 2
Ay
,
marry
,
will
we
.
Therefore
get
you
gone
.
Jack
Cade
,
the
Duke
of
York
hath
taught
you
this
.
He
lies
,
aside
for
I
invented
it
myself
.
—
Go
to
,
sirrah
.
Tell
the
King
from
me
that
,
for
his
father’s
sake
,
Henry
the
Fifth
,
in
whose
time
boys
went
to
span-counter
for
French
crowns
,
I
am
content
he
shall
reign
,
but
I’ll
be
Protector
over
him
.
And
,
furthermore
,
we’ll
have
the
Lord
Saye’s
head
for
selling
the
dukedom
of
Maine
.
And
good
reason
:
for
thereby
is
England
mained
and
fain
to
go
with
a
staff
,
but
that
my
puissance
holds
it
up
.
Fellow
kings
,
I
tell
you
that
that
Lord
Saye
hath
gelded
the
commonwealth
and
made
it
an
eunuch
;
and
,
more
than
that
,
he
can
speak
French
,
and
therefore
he
is
a
traitor
.
O
,
gross
and
miserable
ignorance
!
Nay
,
answer
if
you
can
.
The
Frenchmen
are
our
enemies
.
Go
to
,
then
,
I
ask
but
this
:
can
he
that
speaks
with
the
tongue
of
an
enemy
be
a
good
counselor
,
or
no
?
No
,
no
,
and
therefore
we’ll
have
his
head
!
,
to
Stafford
Well
,
seeing
gentle
words
will
not
prevail
,
Assail
them
with
the
army
of
the
King
.
Herald
,
away
,
and
throughout
every
town
Proclaim
them
traitors
that
are
up
with
Cade
,
That
those
which
fly
before
the
battle
ends
May
,
even
in
their
wives’
and
children’s
sight
Be
hanged
up
for
example
at
their
doors
.
—
And
you
that
be
the
King’s
friends
,
follow
me
.
The
Staffords
,
Soldiers
,
and
Herald
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 3
And
you
that
love
the
Commons
,
follow
me
.
Now
show
yourselves
men
.
’Tis
for
liberty
!
We
will
not
leave
one
lord
,
one
gentleman
;
Spare
none
but
such
as
go
in
clouted
shoon
,
For
they
are
thrifty
,
honest
men
and
such
As
would
,
but
that
they
dare
not
,
take
our
parts
.
They
are
all
in
order
and
march
toward
us
.
But
then
are
we
in
order
when
we
are
most
out
of
order
.
Come
,
march
forward
.
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Alarums
to
the
fight
,
wherein
both
the
Staffords
are
slain
.
Enter
Cade
and
the
rest
.
Where’s
Dick
,
the
butcher
of
Ashford
?
Here
,
sir
.
They
fell
before
thee
like
sheep
and
oxen
,
and
thou
behaved’st
thyself
as
if
thou
hadst
been
in
thine
own
slaughterhouse
.
Therefore
,
thus
will
I
reward
thee
:
the
Lent
shall
be
as
long
again
as
it
is
,
and
thou
shalt
have
a
license
to
kill
for
a
hundred
lacking
one
.
I
desire
no
more
.
And
to
speak
truth
,
thou
deserv’st
no
less
.
This
monument
of
the
victory
will
I
bear
.
He
puts
on
Sir
Humphrey
Stafford’s
armor
and
helmet
,
or
sallet
.
And
the
bodies
shall
be
dragged
at
my
horse
heels
till
I
do
come
to
London
,
where
we
will
have
the
Mayor’s
sword
borne
before
us
.
If
we
mean
to
thrive
and
do
good
,
break
open
the
jails
and
let
out
the
prisoners
.
Fear
not
that
,
I
warrant
thee
.
Come
,
let’s
march
towards
London
.
They
exit
with
the
bodies
of
the
Staffords
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
Scene
4
Enter
King
Henry
,
with
a
supplication
,
and
Queen
Margaret
with
Suffolk’s
head
,
the
Duke
of
Buckingham
,
and
the
Lord
Saye
.
,
aside
Oft
have
I
heard
that
grief
softens
the
mind
And
makes
it
fearful
and
degenerate
.
Think
therefore
on
revenge
,
and
cease
to
weep
.
But
who
can
cease
to
weep
and
look
on
this
?
Here
may
his
head
lie
on
my
throbbing
breast
,
But
where’s
the
body
that
I
should
embrace
?
,
to
King
Henry
What
answer
makes
your
Grace
to
the
rebels’
supplication
?
I’ll
send
some
holy
bishop
to
entreat
,
For
God
forbid
so
many
simple
souls
Should
perish
by
the
sword
!
And
I
myself
,
Rather
than
bloody
war
shall
cut
them
short
,
Will
parley
with
Jack
Cade
,
their
general
.
But
stay
,
I’ll
read
it
over
once
again
.
He
reads
.
,
aside
Ah
,
barbarous
villains
!
Hath
this
lovely
face
Ruled
,
like
a
wandering
planet
,
over
me
,
And
could
it
not
enforce
them
to
relent
That
were
unworthy
to
behold
the
same
?
Lord
Saye
,
Jack
Cade
hath
sworn
to
have
thy
head
.
Ay
,
but
I
hope
your
Highness
shall
have
his
.
How
now
,
madam
?
Still
lamenting
and
mourning
for
Suffolk’s
death
?
I
fear
me
,
love
,
if
that
I
had
been
dead
,
Thou
wouldst
not
have
mourned
so
much
for
me
.
ACT 4. SC. 4
No
,
my
love
,
I
should
not
mourn
,
but
die
for
thee
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
How
now
,
what
news
?
Why
com’st
thou
in
such
haste
?
The
rebels
are
in
Southwark
.
Fly
,
my
lord
!
Jack
Cade
proclaims
himself
Lord
Mortimer
,
Descended
from
the
Duke
of
Clarence’
house
,
And
calls
your
Grace
usurper
,
openly
,
And
vows
to
crown
himself
in
Westminster
.
His
army
is
a
ragged
multitude
Of
hinds
and
peasants
,
rude
and
merciless
.
Sir
Humphrey
Stafford
and
his
brother’s
death
Hath
given
them
heart
and
courage
to
proceed
.
All
scholars
,
lawyers
,
courtiers
,
gentlemen
They
call
false
caterpillars
and
intend
their
death
.
O
,
graceless
men
,
they
know
not
what
they
do
!
My
gracious
lord
,
retire
to
Killingworth
Until
a
power
be
raised
to
put
them
down
.
Ah
,
were
the
Duke
of
Suffolk
now
alive
,
These
Kentish
rebels
would
be
soon
appeased
!
Lord
Saye
,
the
traitors
hateth
thee
;
Therefore
away
with
us
to
Killingworth
.
So
might
your
Grace’s
person
be
in
danger
.
The
sight
of
me
is
odious
in
their
eyes
;
And
therefore
in
this
city
will
I
stay
And
live
alone
as
secret
as
I
may
.
Enter
another
Messenger
.
ACT 4. SC. 5
Jack
Cade
hath
gotten
London
Bridge
.
The
citizens
fly
and
forsake
their
houses
.
The
rascal
people
,
thirsting
after
prey
,
Join
with
the
traitor
,
and
they
jointly
swear
To
spoil
the
city
and
your
royal
court
.
Then
linger
not
,
my
lord
.
Away
!
Take
horse
!
Come
,
Margaret
.
God
,
our
hope
,
will
succor
us
.
My
hope
is
gone
,
now
Suffolk
is
deceased
.
,
to
Saye
Farewell
,
my
lord
.
Trust
not
the
Kentish
rebels
.
Trust
nobody
,
for
fear
you
be
betrayed
.
The
trust
I
have
is
in
mine
innocence
,
And
therefore
am
I
bold
and
resolute
.
They
exit
.
Scene
5
Enter
Lord
Scales
upon
the
Tower
,
walking
.
Then
enters
two
or
three
Citizens
below
.
How
now
?
Is
Jack
Cade
slain
?
No
,
my
lord
,
nor
likely
to
be
slain
;
for
they
have
won
the
Bridge
,
killing
all
those
that
withstand
them
.
The
Lord
Mayor
craves
aid
of
your
Honor
from
the
Tower
to
defend
the
city
from
the
rebels
.
Such
aid
as
I
can
spare
you
shall
command
;
But
I
am
troubled
here
with
them
myself
:
The
rebels
have
essayed
to
win
the
Tower
.
ACT 4. SC. 6
But
get
you
to
Smithfield
and
gather
head
,
And
thither
I
will
send
you
Matthew
Gough
.
Fight
for
your
king
,
your
country
,
and
your
lives
.
And
so
farewell
,
for
I
must
hence
again
.
They
exit
.
Scene
6
Enter
Jack
Cade
and
the
rest
,
and
strikes
his
staff
on
London
Stone
.
Now
is
Mortimer
lord
of
this
city
.
And
here
,
sitting
upon
London
Stone
,
I
charge
and
command
that
,
of
the
city’s
cost
,
the
Pissing
Conduit
run
nothing
but
claret
wine
this
first
year
of
our
reign
.
And
now
henceforward
it
shall
be
treason
for
any
that
calls
me
other
than
Lord
Mortimer
.
Enter
a
Soldier
running
.
Jack
Cade
,
Jack
Cade
!
Knock
him
down
there
.
They
kill
him
.
If
this
fellow
be
wise
,
he’ll
never
call
you
Jack
Cade
more
.
I
think
he
hath
a
very
fair
warning
.
Takes
a
paper
from
the
dead
Soldier
and
reads
the
message
.
My
lord
,
there’s
an
army
gathered
together
in
Smithfield
.
Come
,
then
,
let’s
go
fight
with
them
.
But
first
,
go
and
set
London
Bridge
on
fire
,
and
,
if
you
can
,
burn
down
the
Tower
too
.
Come
,
let’s
away
.
All
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
Scene
7
Alarums
.
Matthew
Gough
is
slain
,
and
all
the
rest
.
Then
enter
Jack
Cade
with
his
company
.
So
,
sirs
.
Now
go
some
and
pull
down
the
Savoy
;
others
to
th’
Inns
of
Court
.
Down
with
them
all
!
I
have
a
suit
unto
your
Lordship
.
Be
it
a
lordship
,
thou
shalt
have
it
for
that
word
.
Only
that
the
laws
of
England
may
come
out
of
your
mouth
.
,
aside
Mass
,
’twill
be
sore
law
,
then
,
for
he
was
thrust
in
the
mouth
with
a
spear
,
and
’tis
not
whole
yet
.
,
aside
Nay
,
John
,
it
will
be
stinking
law
,
for
his
breath
stinks
with
eating
toasted
cheese
.
I
have
thought
upon
it
;
it
shall
be
so
.
Away
!
Burn
all
the
records
of
the
realm
.
My
mouth
shall
be
the
Parliament
of
England
.
,
aside
Then
we
are
like
to
have
biting
statutes
—
unless
his
teeth
be
pulled
out
.
And
henceforward
all
things
shall
be
in
common
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
My
lord
,
a
prize
,
a
prize
!
Here’s
the
Lord
Saye
,
which
sold
the
towns
in
France
,
he
that
made
us
pay
one-and-twenty
fifteens
,
and
one
shilling
to
the
pound
,
the
last
subsidy
.
Enter
George
with
the
Lord
Saye
.
Well
,
he
shall
be
beheaded
for
it
ten
times
.
—
Ah
,
thou
say
,
thou
serge
,
nay
,
thou
buckram
lord
,
now
art
thou
within
point-blank
of
our
jurisdiction
regal
.
What
canst
thou
answer
to
my
Majesty
for
giving
up
of
Normandy
unto
Monsieur
Basimecu
,
the
Dauphin
of
France
?
Be
it
known
unto
thee
by
ACT 4. SC. 7
these
presence
,
even
the
presence
of
Lord
Mortimer
,
that
I
am
the
besom
that
must
sweep
the
court
clean
of
such
filth
as
thou
art
.
Thou
hast
most
traitorously
corrupted
the
youth
of
the
realm
in
erecting
a
grammar
school
;
and
whereas
,
before
,
our
forefathers
had
no
other
books
but
the
score
and
the
tally
,
thou
hast
caused
printing
to
be
used
,
and
,
contrary
to
the
King
his
crown
and
dignity
,
thou
hast
built
a
paper
mill
.
It
will
be
proved
to
thy
face
that
thou
hast
men
about
thee
that
usually
talk
of
a
noun
and
a
verb
and
such
abominable
words
as
no
Christian
ear
can
endure
to
hear
.
Thou
hast
appointed
justices
of
peace
to
call
poor
men
before
them
about
matters
they
were
not
able
to
answer
.
Moreover
,
thou
hast
put
them
in
prison
;
and
,
because
they
could
not
read
,
thou
hast
hanged
them
,
when
indeed
only
for
that
cause
they
have
been
most
worthy
to
live
.
Thou
dost
ride
on
a
footcloth
,
dost
thou
not
?
What
of
that
?
Marry
,
thou
oughtst
not
to
let
thy
horse
wear
a
cloak
when
honester
men
than
thou
go
in
their
hose
and
doublets
.
And
work
in
their
shirt
too
—
as
myself
,
for
example
,
that
am
a
butcher
.
You
men
of
Kent
—
What
say
you
of
Kent
?
Nothing
but
this
:
’tis
bona
terra
,
mala
gens
.
Away
with
him
,
away
with
him
!
He
speaks
Latin
.
Hear
me
but
speak
,
and
bear
me
where
you
will
.
Kent
,
in
the
commentaries
Caesar
writ
,
Is
termed
the
civil’st
place
of
all
this
isle
.
Sweet
is
the
country
,
because
full
of
riches
;
The
people
liberal
,
valiant
,
active
,
wealthy
;
ACT 4. SC. 7
Which
makes
me
hope
you
are
not
void
of
pity
.
I
sold
not
Maine
;
I
lost
not
Normandy
;
Yet
to
recover
them
would
lose
my
life
.
Justice
with
favor
have
I
always
done
;
Prayers
and
tears
have
moved
me
;
gifts
could
never
.
When
have
I
aught
exacted
at
your
hands
Kent
to
maintain
,
the
King
,
the
realm
,
and
you
?
Large
gifts
have
I
bestowed
on
learnèd
clerks
,
Because
my
book
preferred
me
to
the
King
.
And
seeing
ignorance
is
the
curse
of
God
,
Knowledge
the
wing
wherewith
we
fly
to
heaven
,
Unless
you
be
possessed
with
devilish
spirits
,
You
cannot
but
forbear
to
murder
me
.
This
tongue
hath
parleyed
unto
foreign
kings
For
your
behoof
—
Tut
,
when
struck’st
thou
one
blow
in
the
field
?
Great
men
have
reaching
hands
.
Oft
have
I
struck
Those
that
I
never
saw
,
and
struck
them
dead
.
O
monstrous
coward
!
What
,
to
come
behind
folks
?
These
cheeks
are
pale
for
watching
for
your
good
.
Give
him
a
box
o’
th’
ear
,
and
that
will
make
’em
red
again
.
Long
sitting
to
determine
poor
men’s
causes
Hath
made
me
full
of
sickness
and
diseases
.
You
shall
have
a
hempen
caudle
,
then
,
and
the
help
of
hatchet
.
Why
dost
thou
quiver
,
man
?
The
palsy
,
and
not
fear
,
provokes
me
.
Nay
,
he
nods
at
us
,
as
who
should
say
I’ll
be
even
with
you
.
I’ll
see
if
his
head
will
stand
steadier
on
a
pole
,
or
no
.
Take
him
away
,
and
behead
him
.
ACT 4. SC. 7
Tell
me
,
wherein
have
I
offended
most
?
Have
I
affected
wealth
or
honor
?
Speak
.
Are
my
chests
filled
up
with
extorted
gold
?
Is
my
apparel
sumptuous
to
behold
?
Whom
have
I
injured
,
that
you
seek
my
death
?
These
hands
are
free
from
guiltless
blood-shedding
,
This
breast
from
harboring
foul
deceitful
thoughts
.
O
,
let
me
live
!
I
feel
remorse
in
myself
with
his
words
,
but
I’ll
bridle
it
.
He
shall
die
,
an
it
be
but
for
pleading
so
well
for
his
life
.
Away
with
him
!
He
has
a
familiar
under
his
tongue
;
he
speaks
not
i’
God’s
name
.
Go
,
take
him
away
,
I
say
,
and
strike
off
his
head
presently
;
and
then
break
into
his
son-in-law’s
house
,
Sir
James
Cromer
,
and
strike
off
his
head
;
and
bring
them
both
upon
two
poles
hither
.
It
shall
be
done
.
Ah
,
countrymen
,
if
when
you
make
your
prayers
,
God
should
be
so
obdurate
as
yourselves
,
How
would
it
fare
with
your
departed
souls
?
And
therefore
yet
relent
,
and
save
my
life
.
Away
with
him
,
and
do
as
I
command
you
.
Some
exit
with
Lord
Saye
.
The
proudest
peer
in
the
realm
shall
not
wear
a
head
on
his
shoulders
unless
he
pay
me
tribute
.
There
shall
not
a
maid
be
married
but
she
shall
pay
to
me
her
maidenhead
ere
they
have
it
.
Men
shall
hold
of
me
in
capite
;
and
we
charge
and
command
that
their
wives
be
as
free
as
heart
can
wish
or
tongue
can
tell
.
My
lord
,
when
shall
we
go
to
Cheapside
and
take
up
commodities
upon
our
bills
?
Marry
,
presently
.
O
,
brave
!
ACT 4. SC. 8
Enter
one
with
the
heads
of
Lord
Saye
and
Sir
James
Cromer
on
poles
.
But
is
not
this
braver
?
Let
them
kiss
one
another
,
for
they
loved
well
when
they
were
alive
.
The
heads
are
brought
together
.
Now
part
them
again
,
lest
they
consult
about
the
giving
up
of
some
more
towns
in
France
.
Soldiers
,
defer
the
spoil
of
the
city
until
night
,
for
,
with
these
borne
before
us
instead
of
maces
,
will
we
ride
through
the
streets
and
at
every
corner
have
them
kiss
.
Away
!
He
exits
with
his
company
.
Scene
8
Alarum
,
and
retreat
.
Enter
again
Cade
and
all
his
rabblement
.
Up
Fish
Street
!
Down
Saint
Magnus’
Corner
!
Kill
and
knock
down
!
Throw
them
into
Thames
!
Sound
a
parley
.
What
noise
is
this
I
hear
?
Dare
any
be
so
bold
to
sound
retreat
or
parley
when
I
command
them
kill
?
Enter
Buckingham
and
old
Clifford
with
Attendants
.
Ay
,
here
they
be
that
dare
and
will
disturb
thee
.
Know
,
Cade
,
we
come
ambassadors
from
the
King
Unto
the
Commons
,
whom
thou
hast
misled
,
And
here
pronounce
free
pardon
to
them
all
That
will
forsake
thee
and
go
home
in
peace
.
What
say
you
,
countrymen
?
Will
you
relent
And
yield
to
mercy
whil’st
’tis
offered
you
,
Or
let
a
rabble
lead
you
to
your
deaths
?
ACT 4. SC. 8
Who
loves
the
King
and
will
embrace
his
pardon
,
Fling
up
his
cap
and
say
God
save
his
Majesty
!
Who
hateth
him
and
honors
not
his
father
,
Henry
the
Fifth
,
that
made
all
France
to
quake
,
Shake
he
his
weapon
at
us
and
pass
by
.
God
save
the
King
!
God
save
the
King
!
They
fling
their
caps
in
the
air
.
What
,
Buckingham
and
Clifford
,
are
you
so
brave
?
—
And
,
you
base
peasants
,
do
you
believe
him
?
Will
you
needs
be
hanged
with
your
pardons
about
your
necks
?
Hath
my
sword
therefore
broke
through
London
gates
,
that
you
should
leave
me
at
the
White
Hart
in
Southwark
?
I
thought
you
would
never
have
given
out
these
arms
till
you
had
recovered
your
ancient
freedom
.
But
you
are
all
recreants
and
dastards
,
and
delight
to
live
in
slavery
to
the
nobility
.
Let
them
break
your
backs
with
burdens
,
take
your
houses
over
your
heads
,
ravish
your
wives
and
daughters
before
your
faces
.
For
me
,
I
will
make
shift
for
one
,
and
so
God’s
curse
light
upon
you
all
!
We’ll
follow
Cade
!
We’ll
follow
Cade
!
Is
Cade
the
son
of
Henry
the
Fifth
,
That
thus
you
do
exclaim
you’ll
go
with
him
?
Will
he
conduct
you
through
the
heart
of
France
And
make
the
meanest
of
you
earls
and
dukes
?
Alas
,
he
hath
no
home
,
no
place
to
fly
to
,
Nor
knows
he
how
to
live
but
by
the
spoil
,
Unless
by
robbing
of
your
friends
and
us
.
Were
’t
not
a
shame
that
,
whilst
you
live
at
jar
,
The
fearful
French
,
whom
you
late
vanquishèd
,
Should
make
a
start
o’er
seas
and
vanquish
you
?
Methinks
already
in
this
civil
broil
I
see
them
lording
it
in
London
streets
,
Crying
Villiago
!
unto
all
they
meet
.
Better
ten
thousand
baseborn
Cades
miscarry
ACT 4. SC. 9
Than
you
should
stoop
unto
a
Frenchman’s
mercy
.
To
France
,
to
France
,
and
get
what
you
have
lost
!
Spare
England
,
for
it
is
your
native
coast
.
Henry
hath
money
;
you
are
strong
and
manly
.
God
on
our
side
,
doubt
not
of
victory
.
À
Clifford
!
À
Clifford
!
We’ll
follow
the
King
and
Clifford
!
,
aside
Was
ever
feather
so
lightly
blown
to
and
fro
as
this
multitude
?
The
name
of
Henry
the
Fifth
hales
them
to
an
hundred
mischiefs
and
makes
them
leave
me
desolate
.
I
see
them
lay
their
heads
together
to
surprise
me
.
My
sword
make
way
for
me
,
for
here
is
no
staying
!
—
In
despite
of
the
devils
and
hell
,
have
through
the
very
middest
of
you
!
And
heavens
and
honor
be
witness
that
no
want
of
resolution
in
me
,
but
only
my
followers’
base
and
ignominious
treasons
,
makes
me
betake
me
to
my
heels
.
He
exits
,
running
.
What
,
is
he
fled
?
Go
,
some
,
and
follow
him
;
And
he
that
brings
his
head
unto
the
King
Shall
have
a
thousand
crowns
for
his
reward
.
Some
of
them
exit
.
Follow
me
,
soldiers
.
We’ll
devise
a
means
To
reconcile
you
all
unto
the
King
.
All
exit
.
Scene
9
Sound
trumpets
.
Enter
King
Henry
,
Queen
Margaret
,
and
Somerset
on
the
terrace
,
aloft
.
Was
ever
king
that
joyed
an
earthly
throne
And
could
command
no
more
content
than
I
?
ACT 4. SC. 9
No
sooner
was
I
crept
out
of
my
cradle
But
I
was
made
a
king
at
nine
months
old
.
Was
never
subject
longed
to
be
a
king
As
I
do
long
and
wish
to
be
a
subject
!
Enter
Buckingham
and
old
Clifford
.
Health
and
glad
tidings
to
your
Majesty
!
Why
,
Buckingham
,
is
the
traitor
Cade
surprised
,
Or
is
he
but
retired
to
make
him
strong
?
Enter
below
multitudes
with
halters
about
their
necks
.
He
is
fled
,
my
lord
,
and
all
his
powers
do
yield
And
,
humbly
thus
,
with
halters
on
their
necks
,
Expect
your
Highness’
doom
of
life
or
death
.
Then
,
heaven
,
set
ope
thy
everlasting
gates
To
entertain
my
vows
of
thanks
and
praise
!
Soldiers
,
this
day
have
you
redeemed
your
lives
And
showed
how
well
you
love
your
prince
and
country
.
Continue
still
in
this
so
good
a
mind
,
And
Henry
,
though
he
be
infortunate
,
Assure
yourselves
,
will
never
be
unkind
.
And
so
with
thanks
and
pardon
to
you
all
,
I
do
dismiss
you
to
your
several
countries
.
God
save
the
King
!
God
save
the
King
!
The
multitudes
exit
.
Enter
a
Messenger
.
Please
it
your
Grace
to
be
advertisèd
The
Duke
of
York
is
newly
come
from
Ireland
And
,
with
a
puissant
and
a
mighty
power
ACT 4. SC. 9
Of
gallowglasses
and
stout
kerns
,
Is
marching
hitherward
in
proud
array
,
And
still
proclaimeth
,
as
he
comes
along
,
His
arms
are
only
to
remove
from
thee
The
Duke
of
Somerset
,
whom
he
terms
a
traitor
.
Thus
stands
my
state
,
’twixt
Cade
and
York
distressed
,
Like
to
a
ship
that
,
having
scaped
a
tempest
,
Is
straightway
calmed
and
boarded
with
a
pirate
.
But
now
is
Cade
driven
back
,
his
men
dispersed
,
And
now
is
York
in
arms
to
second
him
.
I
pray
thee
,
Buckingham
,
go
and
meet
him
,
And
ask
him
what’s
the
reason
of
these
arms
.
Tell
him
I’ll
send
Duke
Edmund
to
the
Tower
.
—
And
,
Somerset
,
we
will
commit
thee
thither
Until
his
army
be
dismissed
from
him
.
My
lord
,
I’ll
yield
myself
to
prison
willingly
,
Or
unto
death
,
to
do
my
country
good
.
,
to
Buckingham
In
any
case
,
be
not
too
rough
in
terms
,
For
he
is
fierce
and
cannot
brook
hard
language
.
I
will
,
my
lord
,
and
doubt
not
so
to
deal
As
all
things
shall
redound
unto
your
good
.
Come
,
wife
,
let’s
in
,
and
learn
to
govern
better
,
For
yet
may
England
curse
my
wretched
reign
.
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
ACT 4. SC. 10
Scene
10
Enter
Cade
.
Fie
on
ambitions
!
Fie
on
myself
,
that
have
a
sword
and
yet
am
ready
to
famish
!
These
five
days
have
I
hid
me
in
these
woods
and
durst
not
peep
out
,
for
all
the
country
is
laid
for
me
.
But
now
am
I
so
hungry
that
,
if
I
might
have
a
lease
of
my
life
for
a
thousand
years
,
I
could
stay
no
longer
.
Wherefore
,
o’er
a
brick
wall
have
I
climbed
into
this
garden
,
to
see
if
I
can
eat
grass
,
or
pick
a
sallet
another
while
,
which
is
not
amiss
to
cool
a
man’s
stomach
this
hot
weather
.
And
I
think
this
word
sallet
was
born
to
do
me
good
;
for
many
a
time
,
but
for
a
sallet
,
my
brainpan
had
been
cleft
with
a
brown
bill
;
and
many
a
time
,
when
I
have
been
dry
and
bravely
marching
,
it
hath
served
me
instead
of
a
quart
pot
to
drink
in
;
and
now
the
word
sallet
must
serve
me
to
feed
on
.
Enter
Iden
and
his
Men
.
Lord
,
who
would
live
turmoilèd
in
the
court
And
may
enjoy
such
quiet
walks
as
these
?
This
small
inheritance
my
father
left
me
Contenteth
me
,
and
worth
a
monarchy
.
I
seek
not
to
wax
great
by
others’
waning
,
Or
gather
wealth
,
I
care
not
with
what
envy
.
Sufficeth
that
I
have
maintains
my
state
And
sends
the
poor
well
pleasèd
from
my
gate
.
,
aside
Here’s
the
lord
of
the
soil
come
to
seize
me
for
a
stray
,
for
entering
his
fee-simple
without
leave
.
—
Ah
,
villain
,
thou
wilt
betray
me
and
get
a
thousand
crowns
of
the
King
by
carrying
my
head
to
him
;
but
I’ll
make
thee
eat
iron
like
an
ostrich
ACT 4. SC. 10
and
swallow
my
sword
like
a
great
pin
,
ere
thou
and
I
part
.
He
draws
his
sword
.
Why
,
rude
companion
,
whatsoe’er
thou
be
,
I
know
thee
not
.
Why
,
then
,
should
I
betray
thee
?
Is
’t
not
enough
to
break
into
my
garden
And
,
like
a
thief
,
to
come
to
rob
my
grounds
,
Climbing
my
walls
in
spite
of
me
the
owner
,
But
thou
wilt
brave
me
with
these
saucy
terms
?
Brave
thee
?
Ay
,
by
the
best
blood
that
ever
was
broached
,
and
beard
thee
too
.
Look
on
me
well
:
I
have
eat
no
meat
these
five
days
,
yet
come
thou
and
thy
five
men
,
and
if
I
do
not
leave
you
all
as
dead
as
a
doornail
,
I
pray
God
I
may
never
eat
grass
more
.
Nay
,
it
shall
ne’er
be
said
,
while
England
stands
,
That
Alexander
Iden
,
an
esquire
of
Kent
,
Took
odds
to
combat
a
poor
famished
man
.
Oppose
thy
steadfast
gazing
eyes
to
mine
;
See
if
thou
canst
outface
me
with
thy
looks
.
Set
limb
to
limb
,
and
thou
art
far
the
lesser
;
Thy
hand
is
but
a
finger
to
my
fist
,
Thy
leg
a
stick
comparèd
with
this
truncheon
.
My
foot
shall
fight
with
all
the
strength
thou
hast
;
And
if
mine
arm
be
heavèd
in
the
air
,
Thy
grave
is
digged
already
in
the
earth
.
As
for
words
,
whose
greatness
answers
words
,
Let
this
my
sword
report
what
speech
forbears
.
He
draws
his
sword
.
By
my
valor
,
the
most
complete
champion
that
ever
I
heard
!
Steel
,
if
thou
turn
the
edge
or
cut
not
out
the
burly-boned
clown
in
chines
of
beef
ere
thou
sleep
in
thy
sheath
,
I
beseech
God
on
my
knees
thou
mayst
be
turned
to
hobnails
.
(
Here
they
fight
,
and
Cade
falls
.
)
ACT 4. SC. 10
O
,
I
am
slain
!
Famine
,
and
no
other
,
hath
slain
me
.
Let
ten
thousand
devils
come
against
me
,
and
give
me
but
the
ten
meals
I
have
lost
,
and
I’d
defy
them
all
.
Wither
,
garden
,
and
be
henceforth
a
burying
place
to
all
that
do
dwell
in
this
house
,
because
the
unconquered
soul
of
Cade
is
fled
.
Is
’t
Cade
that
I
have
slain
,
that
monstrous
traitor
?
Sword
,
I
will
hallow
thee
for
this
thy
deed
,
And
hang
thee
o’er
my
tomb
when
I
am
dead
.
Ne’er
shall
this
blood
be
wipèd
from
thy
point
,
But
thou
shalt
wear
it
as
a
herald’s
coat
To
emblaze
the
honor
that
thy
master
got
.
Iden
,
farewell
,
and
be
proud
of
thy
victory
.
Tell
Kent
from
me
she
hath
lost
her
best
man
,
and
exhort
all
the
world
to
be
cowards
;
for
I
,
that
never
feared
any
,
am
vanquished
by
famine
,
not
by
valor
.
Dies
.
How
much
thou
wrong’st
me
,
heaven
be
my
judge
!
Die
,
damnèd
wretch
,
the
curse
of
her
that
bare
thee
!
And
as
I
thrust
thy
body
in
with
my
sword
,
So
wish
I
,
I
might
thrust
thy
soul
to
hell
.
Hence
will
I
drag
thee
headlong
by
the
heels
Unto
a
dunghill
,
which
shall
be
thy
grave
,
And
there
cut
off
thy
most
ungracious
head
,
Which
I
will
bear
in
triumph
to
the
King
,
Leaving
thy
trunk
for
crows
to
feed
upon
.
He
exits
with
his
Men
,
dragging
Cade’s
body
.
ACT
5
Scene
1
Enter
York
,
wearing
the
white
rose
,
and
his
army
of
Irish
,
with
Attendants
,
Drum
and
Colors
.
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
maiestas
,
who
would
not
buy
thee
dear
?
Let
them
obey
that
knows
not
how
to
rule
.
This
hand
was
made
to
handle
naught
but
gold
.
I
cannot
give
due
action
to
my
words
Except
a
sword
or
scepter
balance
it
.
A
scepter
shall
it
have
,
have
I
a
soul
,
On
which
I’ll
toss
the
fleur-de-luce
of
France
.
Enter
Buckingham
,
wearing
the
red
rose
.
Aside
.
Whom
have
we
here
?
Buckingham
,
to
disturb
me
?
The
King
hath
sent
him
,
sure
.
I
must
dissemble
.
York
,
if
thou
meanest
well
,
I
greet
thee
well
.
Humphrey
of
Buckingham
,
I
accept
thy
greeting
.
Art
thou
a
messenger
,
or
come
of
pleasure
?
ACT 5. SC. 1
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
,
Should
raise
so
great
a
power
without
his
leave
,
Or
dare
to
bring
thy
force
so
near
the
court
.
,
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
.
—
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
.
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
.
Upon
thine
honor
,
is
he
prisoner
?
Upon
mine
honor
,
he
is
prisoner
.
Then
,
Buckingham
,
I
do
dismiss
my
powers
.
—
Soldiers
,
I
thank
you
all
.
Disperse
yourselves
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Meet
me
tomorrow
in
Saint
George’s
field
;
You
shall
have
pay
and
everything
you
wish
.
Soldiers
exit
.
And
let
my
sovereign
,
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
,
armor
,
anything
I
have
Is
his
to
use
,
so
Somerset
may
die
.
York
,
I
commend
this
kind
submission
.
We
twain
will
go
into
his
Highness’
tent
.
They
walk
arm
in
arm
.
Enter
King
Henry
and
Attendants
.
Buckingham
,
doth
York
intend
no
harm
to
us
That
thus
he
marcheth
with
thee
arm
in
arm
?
In
all
submission
and
humility
York
doth
present
himself
unto
your
Highness
.
Then
what
intends
these
forces
thou
dost
bring
?
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
.
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
.
The
head
of
Cade
?
Great
God
,
how
just
art
Thou
!
ACT 5. SC. 1
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
?
I
was
,
an
’t
like
your
Majesty
.
How
art
thou
called
?
And
what
is
thy
degree
?
Alexander
Iden
,
that’s
my
name
,
A
poor
esquire
of
Kent
that
loves
his
king
.
So
please
it
you
,
my
lord
,
’twere
not
amiss
He
were
created
knight
for
his
good
service
.
Iden
,
kneel
down
.
He
kneels
.
Rise
up
a
knight
.
He
rises
.
We
give
thee
for
reward
a
thousand
marks
,
And
will
that
thou
henceforth
attend
on
us
.
May
Iden
live
to
merit
such
a
bounty
,
And
never
live
but
true
unto
his
liege
!
Enter
Queen
Margaret
and
Somerset
,
wearing
the
red
rose
.
,
aside
to
Buckingham
See
,
Buckingham
,
Somerset
comes
with
th’
Queen
.
Go
bid
her
hide
him
quickly
from
the
Duke
.
Buckingham
whispers
to
the
Queen
.
For
thousand
Yorks
he
shall
not
hide
his
head
,
But
boldly
stand
and
front
him
to
his
face
.
,
aside
How
now
?
Is
Somerset
at
liberty
?
Then
,
York
,
unloose
thy
long-imprisoned
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
,
ACT 5. SC. 1
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
scepter
.
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
scepter
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
.
O
monstrous
traitor
!
I
arrest
thee
,
York
,
Of
capital
treason
’gainst
the
King
and
crown
.
Obey
,
audacious
traitor
.
Kneel
for
grace
.
Wouldst
have
me
kneel
?
First
let
me
ask
of
these
If
they
can
brook
I
bow
a
knee
to
man
.
To
an
Attendant
.
Sirrah
,
call
in
my
sons
to
be
my
bail
.
Attendant
exits
.
I
know
,
ere
they
will
have
me
go
to
ward
,
They’ll
pawn
their
swords
for
my
enfranchisement
.
,
to
Buckingham
Call
hither
Clifford
;
bid
him
come
amain
,
To
say
if
that
the
bastard
boys
of
York
Shall
be
the
surety
for
their
traitor
father
.
Buckingham
exits
.
,
to
Queen
Margaret
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
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
Enter
York’s
sons
Edward
and
Richard
,
wearing
the
white
rose
.
See
where
they
come
;
I’ll
warrant
they’ll
make
it
good
.
Enter
old
Clifford
and
his
Son
,
wearing
the
red
rose
.
And
here
comes
Clifford
to
deny
their
bail
.
,
kneeling
before
King
Henry
Health
and
all
happiness
to
my
lord
the
King
.
He
rises
.
I
thank
thee
,
Clifford
.
Say
,
what
news
with
thee
?
Nay
,
do
not
fright
us
with
an
angry
look
.
We
are
thy
sovereign
,
Clifford
;
kneel
again
.
For
thy
mistaking
so
,
we
pardon
thee
.
This
is
my
king
,
York
;
I
do
not
mistake
,
But
thou
mistakes
me
much
to
think
I
do
.
—
To
Bedlam
with
him
!
Is
the
man
grown
mad
?
Ay
,
Clifford
,
a
bedlam
and
ambitious
humor
Makes
him
oppose
himself
against
his
king
.
He
is
a
traitor
.
Let
him
to
the
Tower
,
And
chop
away
that
factious
pate
of
his
.
He
is
arrested
,
but
will
not
obey
.
His
sons
,
he
says
,
shall
give
their
words
for
him
.
Will
you
not
,
sons
?
Ay
,
noble
father
,
if
our
words
will
serve
.
And
if
words
will
not
,
then
our
weapons
shall
.
Why
,
what
a
brood
of
traitors
have
we
here
!
ACT 5. SC. 1
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
.
To
an
Attendant
.
Bid
Salisbury
and
Warwick
come
to
me
.
Attendant
exits
.
Enter
the
Earls
of
Warwick
and
Salisbury
,
wearing
the
white
rose
.
Are
these
thy
bears
?
We’ll
bait
thy
bears
to
death
And
manacle
the
bearherd
in
their
chains
,
If
thou
dar’st
bring
them
to
the
baiting
place
.
Oft
have
I
seen
a
hot
o’erweening
cur
Run
back
and
bite
because
he
was
withheld
,
Who
,
being
suffered
with
the
bear’s
fell
paw
,
Hath
clapped
his
tail
between
his
legs
and
cried
;
And
such
a
piece
of
service
will
you
do
If
you
oppose
yourselves
to
match
Lord
Warwick
.
Hence
,
heap
of
wrath
,
foul
indigested
lump
,
As
crooked
in
thy
manners
as
thy
shape
!
Nay
,
we
shall
heat
you
thoroughly
anon
.
Take
heed
,
lest
by
your
heat
you
burn
yourselves
.
Why
,
Warwick
,
hath
thy
knee
forgot
to
bow
?
—
Old
Salisbury
,
shame
to
thy
silver
hair
,
Thou
mad
misleader
of
thy
brainsick
son
!
What
,
wilt
thou
on
thy
deathbed
play
the
ruffian
And
seek
for
sorrow
with
thy
spectacles
?
O
,
where
is
faith
?
O
,
where
is
loyalty
?
If
it
be
banished
from
the
frosty
head
,
Where
shall
it
find
a
harbor
in
the
earth
?
Wilt
thou
go
dig
a
grave
to
find
out
war
,
And
shame
thine
honorable
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
.
My
lord
,
I
have
considered
with
myself
The
title
of
this
most
renownèd
duke
,
And
in
my
conscience
do
repute
his
Grace
The
rightful
heir
to
England’s
royal
seat
.
Hast
thou
not
sworn
allegiance
unto
me
?
I
have
.
Canst
thou
dispense
with
heaven
for
such
an
oath
?
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
murd’rous
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
customed
right
,
And
have
no
other
reason
for
this
wrong
But
that
he
was
bound
by
a
solemn
oath
?
A
subtle
traitor
needs
no
sophister
.
,
to
an
Attendant
Call
Buckingham
,
and
bid
him
arm
himself
.
Attendant
exits
.
,
to
King
Henry
Call
Buckingham
and
all
the
friends
thou
hast
,
I
am
resolved
for
death
or
dignity
.
ACT 5. SC. 1
The
first
,
I
warrant
thee
,
if
dreams
prove
true
.
You
were
best
to
go
to
bed
and
dream
again
,
To
keep
thee
from
the
tempest
of
the
field
.
I
am
resolved
to
bear
a
greater
storm
Than
any
thou
canst
conjure
up
today
;
And
that
I’ll
write
upon
thy
burgonet
,
Might
I
but
know
thee
by
thy
house’s
badge
.
Now
,
by
my
father’s
badge
,
old
Neville’s
crest
,
The
rampant
bear
chained
to
the
ragged
staff
,
This
day
I’ll
wear
aloft
my
burgonet
—
As
on
a
mountaintop
the
cedar
shows
That
keeps
his
leaves
in
spite
of
any
storm
—
Even
to
affright
thee
with
the
view
thereof
.
And
from
thy
burgonet
I’ll
rend
thy
bear
And
tread
it
under
foot
with
all
contempt
,
Despite
the
bearherd
that
protects
the
bear
.
And
so
to
arms
,
victorious
father
,
To
quell
the
rebels
and
their
complices
.
Fie
!
Charity
,
for
shame
!
Speak
not
in
spite
,
For
you
shall
sup
with
Jesu
Christ
tonight
.
Foul
stigmatic
,
that’s
more
than
thou
canst
tell
!
If
not
in
heaven
,
you’ll
surely
sup
in
hell
.
They
exit
separately
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Scene
2
The
sign
of
the
Castle
Inn
is
displayed
.
Alarms
.
Enter
Warwick
,
wearing
the
white
rose
.
Clifford
of
Cumberland
,
’tis
Warwick
calls
!
An
if
thou
dost
not
hide
thee
from
the
bear
,
Now
,
when
the
angry
trumpet
sounds
alarum
And
dead
men’s
cries
do
fill
the
empty
air
,
Clifford
,
I
say
,
come
forth
and
fight
with
me
;
Proud
northern
lord
,
Clifford
of
Cumberland
,
Warwick
is
hoarse
with
calling
thee
to
arms
.
Enter
York
,
wearing
the
white
rose
.
How
now
,
my
noble
lord
?
What
,
all
afoot
?
The
deadly-handed
Clifford
slew
my
steed
,
But
match
to
match
I
have
encountered
him
And
made
a
prey
for
carrion
kites
and
crows
Even
of
the
bonny
beast
he
loved
so
well
.
Enter
old
Clifford
,
wearing
the
red
rose
.
Of
one
or
both
of
us
the
time
is
come
.
Hold
,
Warwick
!
Seek
thee
out
some
other
chase
,
For
I
myself
must
hunt
this
deer
to
death
.
Then
,
nobly
,
York
!
’Tis
for
a
crown
thou
fight’st
.
—
As
I
intend
,
Clifford
,
to
thrive
today
,
It
grieves
my
soul
to
leave
thee
unassailed
.
Warwick
exits
.
What
seest
thou
in
me
,
York
?
Why
dost
thou
pause
?
With
thy
brave
bearing
should
I
be
in
love
,
But
that
thou
art
so
fast
mine
enemy
.
ACT 5. SC. 2
Nor
should
thy
prowess
want
praise
and
esteem
,
But
that
’tis
shown
ignobly
and
in
treason
.
So
let
it
help
me
now
against
thy
sword
As
I
in
justice
and
true
right
express
it
!
My
soul
and
body
on
the
action
both
!
A
dreadful
lay
!
Address
thee
instantly
.
They
fight
and
Clifford
falls
.
La
fin
courrone
les
oeuvres
.
He
dies
.
Thus
war
hath
given
thee
peace
,
for
thou
art
still
.
Peace
with
his
soul
,
heaven
,
if
it
be
thy
will
!
He
exits
.
Enter
young
Clifford
,
wearing
the
red
rose
.
Shame
and
confusion
!
All
is
on
the
rout
.
Fear
frames
disorder
,
and
disorder
wounds
Where
it
should
guard
.
O
war
,
thou
son
of
hell
,
Whom
angry
heavens
do
make
their
minister
,
Throw
in
the
frozen
bosoms
of
our
part
Hot
coals
of
vengeance
!
Let
no
soldier
fly
.
He
that
is
truly
dedicate
to
war
Hath
no
self-love
;
nor
he
that
loves
himself
Hath
not
essentially
,
but
by
circumstance
,
The
name
of
valor
.
He
sees
his
father
,
lying
dead
.
O
,
let
the
vile
world
end
And
the
premised
flames
of
the
last
day
Knit
Earth
earth
and
heaven
together
!
Now
let
the
general
trumpet
blow
his
blast
,
Particularities
and
petty
sounds
To
cease
!
Wast
thou
ordained
,
dear
father
,
ACT 5. SC. 2
To
lose
thy
youth
in
peace
,
and
to
achieve
The
silver
livery
of
advisèd
age
,
And
,
in
thy
reverence
and
thy
chair-days
,
thus
To
die
in
ruffian
battle
?
Even
at
this
sight
My
heart
is
turned
to
stone
,
and
while
’tis
mine
,
It
shall
be
stony
.
York
not
our
old
men
spares
;
No
more
will
I
their
babes
.
Tears
virginal
Shall
be
to
me
even
as
the
dew
to
fire
;
And
beauty
,
that
the
tyrant
oft
reclaims
,
Shall
to
my
flaming
wrath
be
oil
and
flax
.
Henceforth
I
will
not
have
to
do
with
pity
.
Meet
I
an
infant
of
the
house
of
York
,
Into
as
many
gobbets
will
I
cut
it
As
wild
Medea
young
Absyrtis
did
.
In
cruelty
will
I
seek
out
my
fame
.
He
takes
his
father’s
body
onto
his
back
.
Come
,
thou
new
ruin
of
old
Clifford’s
house
;
As
did
Aeneas
old
Anchises
bear
,
So
bear
I
thee
upon
my
manly
shoulders
.
But
then
Aeneas
bare
a
living
load
,
Nothing
so
heavy
as
these
woes
of
mine
.
He
exits
.
Enter
Richard
,
wearing
the
white
rose
,
and
Somerset
,
wearing
the
red
rose
,
to
fight
.
Richard
kills
Somerset
under
the
sign
of
Castle
Inn
.
So
lie
thou
there
.
For
underneath
an
alehouse’
paltry
sign
,
The
Castle
in
Saint
Albans
,
Somerset
Hath
made
the
wizard
famous
in
his
death
.
Sword
,
hold
thy
temper
!
Heart
,
be
wrathful
still
!
Priests
pray
for
enemies
,
but
princes
kill
.
He
exits
.
Fight
.
Excursions
.
Enter
King
Henry
,
Queen
Margaret
,
both
wearing
the
red
rose
,
and
Others
.
Away
,
my
lord
!
You
are
slow
.
For
shame
,
away
!
ACT 5. SC. 3
Can
we
outrun
the
heavens
?
Good
Margaret
,
stay
!
What
are
you
made
of
?
You’ll
nor
fight
nor
fly
.
Now
is
it
manhood
,
wisdom
,
and
defense
To
give
the
enemy
way
,
and
to
secure
us
By
what
we
can
,
which
can
no
more
but
fly
.
Alarum
afar
off
.
If
you
be
ta’en
,
we
then
should
see
the
bottom
Of
all
our
fortunes
;
but
if
we
haply
scape
,
As
well
we
may
—
if
not
through
your
neglect
—
We
shall
to
London
get
,
where
you
are
loved
And
where
this
breach
now
in
our
fortunes
made
May
readily
be
stopped
.
Enter
Young
Clifford
,
wearing
the
red
rose
.
But
that
my
heart’s
on
future
mischief
set
,
I
would
speak
blasphemy
ere
bid
you
fly
;
But
fly
you
must
.
Uncurable
discomfit
Reigns
in
the
hearts
of
all
our
present
parts
.
Away
,
for
your
relief
!
And
we
will
live
To
see
their
day
and
them
our
fortune
give
.
Away
,
my
lord
,
away
!
They
exit
.
Scene
3
Alarum
.
Retreat
.
Enter
York
,
Edward
,
Richard
,
Warwick
,
and
Soldiers
,
all
wearing
the
white
rose
,
with
Drum
and
Colors
.
Of
Salisbury
,
who
can
report
of
him
,
That
winter
lion
,
who
in
rage
forgets
Agèd
contusions
and
all
brush
of
time
,
And
,
like
a
gallant
in
the
brow
of
youth
,
ACT 5. SC. 3
Repairs
him
with
occasion
?
This
happy
day
Is
not
itself
,
nor
have
we
won
one
foot
,
If
Salisbury
be
lost
.
My
noble
father
,
Three
times
today
I
holp
him
to
his
horse
,
Three
times
bestrid
him
.
Thrice
I
led
him
off
,
Persuaded
him
from
any
further
act
;
But
still
,
where
danger
was
,
still
there
I
met
him
,
And
,
like
rich
hangings
in
a
homely
house
,
So
was
his
will
in
his
old
feeble
body
.
But
,
noble
as
he
is
,
look
where
he
comes
.
Enter
Salisbury
,
wearing
the
white
rose
.
Now
,
by
my
sword
,
well
hast
thou
fought
today
!
By
th’
Mass
,
so
did
we
all
.
I
thank
you
,
Richard
.
God
knows
how
long
it
is
I
have
to
live
,
And
it
hath
pleased
Him
that
three
times
today
You
have
defended
me
from
imminent
death
.
Well
,
lords
,
we
have
not
got
that
which
we
have
;
’Tis
not
enough
our
foes
are
this
time
fled
,
Being
opposites
of
such
repairing
nature
.
I
know
our
safety
is
to
follow
them
;
For
,
as
I
hear
,
the
King
is
fled
to
London
To
call
a
present
court
of
Parliament
.
Let
us
pursue
him
ere
the
writs
go
forth
.
—
What
says
Lord
Warwick
?
Shall
we
after
them
?
After
them
?
Nay
,
before
them
,
if
we
can
.
Now
,
by
my
hand
,
lords
,
’twas
a
glorious
day
.
Saint
Albans
battle
won
by
famous
York
Shall
be
eternized
in
all
age
to
come
.
—
Sound
drum
and
trumpets
,
and
to
London
all
;
And
more
such
days
as
these
to
us
befall
!
Flourish
.
They
exit
.
all or part of a full metrical line
all or part of a prose speech
a short line which cannot be joined with other lines to form a full metrical line, or which may not be definitively identified asverse or prose
editorial emendation