Shakespeare's First Folio - LightNovelsOnl.com
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Exet. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
Enter.
Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.
Richard. Brother, though I bee youngest, giue mee leaue
Edward. No, I can better play the Orator
Mount. But I haue reasons strong and forceable.
Enter the Duke of Yorke.
Yorke. Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a strife?
What is your Quarrell? how began it first?
Edward. No Quarrell, but a slight Contention
Yorke. About what?
Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and vs, The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours
Yorke. Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead
Richard. Your Right depends not on his life, or death
Edward. Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now: By giuing the House of Lancaster leaue to breathe, It will out-runne you, Father, in the end
Yorke. I tooke an Oath, that hee should quietly reigne
Edward. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken: I would breake a thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere
Richard. No: G.o.d forbid your Grace should be forsworne
Yorke. I shall be, if I clayme by open Warre
Richard. Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare mee speake
Yorke. Thou canst not, Sonne: it is impossible
Richard. An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke Before a true and lawfull Magistrate, That hath authoritie ouer him that sweares.
Henry had none, but did vsurpe the place.
Then seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous.
Therefore to Armes: and Father doe but thinke, How sweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne, Within whose Circuit is Elizium, And all that Poets faine of Blisse and Ioy.
Why doe we linger thus? I cannot rest, Vntill the White Rose that I weare, be dy'de Euen in the luke-warme blood of Henries heart
Yorke. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye.
Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this Enterprise.
Thou Richard shalt to the Duke of Norfolke, And tell him priuily of our intent.
You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise.
In them I trust: for they are Souldiors, Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit.
While you are thus imploy'd, what resteth more?
But that I seeke occasion how to rise, And yet the King not priuie to my Drift, Nor any of the House of Lancaster.
Enter Gabriel.
But stay, what Newes? Why comm'st thou in such poste?
Gabriel. The Queene, With all the Northerne Earles and Lords, Intend here to besiege you in your Castle.
She is hard by, with twentie thousand men: And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord
Yorke. I, with my Sword.
What? think'st thou, that we feare them?
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me, My Brother Mountague shall poste to London.
Let n.o.ble Warwicke, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we haue left Protectors of the King, With powrefull Pollicie strengthen themselues, And trust not simple Henry, nor his Oathes
Mount. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not.
And thus most humbly I doe take my leaue.
Exit Mountague.
Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.
York. Sir Iohn, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles, You are come to Sandall in a happie houre.
The Armie of the Queene meane to besiege vs
Iohn. Shee shall not neede, wee'le meete her in the field
Yorke. What, with fiue thousand men?
Richard. I, with fiue hundred, Father, for a neede.
A Woman's generall: what should we feare?
A March afarre off.
Edward. I heare their Drummes: Let's set our men in order, And issue forth, and bid them Battaile straight
Yorke. Fiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great, I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Victorie.
Many a Battaile haue I wonne in France, When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one: Why should I not now haue the like successe?
Alarum. Exit.
Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.
Rutland. Ah, whither shall I flye, to scape their hands?
Ah Tutor, looke where b.l.o.o.d.y Clifford comes.
Enter Clifford.
Clifford. Chaplaine away, thy Priesthood saues thy life.
As for the Brat of this accursed Duke, Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye
Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company
Clifford. Souldiers, away with him
Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child, Least thou be hated both of G.o.d and Man.