Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.
Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mount
ague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.
I Wonder how the King escap'd our hands?
while we pursu'd the Horsmen of theyͤ North,
He slyly stole away, and left his men:
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whose Warlike eares could neuer brooke retreat,
Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himselfe.
Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a‑brest
Charg'd our maine Battailes Front: and breaking in,
Were by the Swords of common Souldiers slaine.
Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either slaine or wounded dangerous.
I cleft his Beauer with a down‑right blow:
That this is true (Father) behold his blood.
And Brother, here's the Earle of Wiltshires
Whom I encountred as the Battels ioyn'd.
Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did.
Richard hath best deseru'd of all my sonnes:
But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?
Such hope haue all the line of Iohn of Gaunt.
Thus do I hope to shake King Henries head.
And so doe I, victorious Prince of Yorke.
Before I see thee seated in that Throne,
Which now the House of Lancaster vsurpes,
I vow by Heauen, these eyes shall neuer close.
This is the Pallace of the fearefull King,
And this the Regall Seat: possesse it Yorke,
For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires.
Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will,
For hither we haue broken in by force.
Wee'le all assist you: he that flyes, shall dye.
Thankes gentle Norfolke, stay by me my Lords,
And Souldiers stay and lodge by me this Night.
They goe vp.
And when the King comes, offer him no violence,
Vnlesse he seeke to thrust you out perforce.
The Queene this day here holds her Parliament,
But little thinkes we shall be of her counsaile,
By words or blowes here let vs winne our right.
Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this House.
The bloody Parliament shall this be call'd,
Vnlesse Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be King,
And bashfull Henry depos'd, whose Cowardize
Hath made vs by‑words to our enemies.
Then leaue me not, my Lords be resolute,
I meane to take possession of my Right.
Neither the King, nor he that loues him best,
The prowdest hee that holds vp Lancaster,
Dares stirre a Wing, if Warwick shake his Bells.
Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares:
Resolue thee Richard, clayme the English Crowne.
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland,
Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.
My Lords, looke where the sturdie Rebell sits,
Euen in the Chayre of State: belike he meanes,
Backt by the power of Warwicke, that false Peere,
To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King.
Earle of Northumberland, he slew thy Father,
And thine, Lord Clifford, & you both haue vow'd reuenge
On him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his friends.
If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me.
The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne in
What, shall we suffer this? lets pluck him down,
My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it.
Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland.
Patience is for Poultroones, such as he:
He durst not sit there, had your Father liu'd.
My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament
Let vs assayle the Family of Yorke.
Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so.
Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them,
And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck?
But when the Duke is slaine, they'le quickly
Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart,
To make a Shambles of the Parliament House.
Cousin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats,
Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vse.
Thou factious Duke of Yorke descend my Throne,
And kneele for grace and mercie at my feet,
I am thy Soueraigne.
I am thine.
For shame come downe, he made thee Duke of
It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was.