Henry had none, but did usurp the place;
    Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
    Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.
    Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think
    How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown,
    Within whose circuit is Elysium
    And all that poets feign of bliss and joy.
    Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest
    Until the white rose that I wear be dy'd
    Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.
  YORK. Richard, enough; I will be King, or die.
    Brother, thou shalt to London presently
    And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.
    Thou, Richard, shalt to the Duke of Norfolk
    And tell him privily of our intent.
    You, Edward, shall unto my Lord Cobham,
    With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise;
    In them I trust, for they are soldiers,
    Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.
    While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more
    But that I seek occasion how to rise,
    And yet the King not privy to my drift,
    Nor any of the house of Lancaster?

Enter a MESSENGER

    But, stay. What news? Why com'st thou in such post?
  MESSENGER. The Queen with all the northern earls and lords
    Intend here to besiege you in your castle.
    She is hard by with twenty thousand men;
    And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.
  YORK. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou that we fear them?
    Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;
    My brother Montague shall post to London.
    Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest,
    Whom we have left protectors of the King,
    With pow'rful policy strengthen themselves
    And trust not simple Henry nor his oaths.
  MONTAGUE. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not.
    And thus most humbly I do take my leave. Exit

Enter SIR JOHN and SIR HUGH MORTIMER

  YORK. Sir john and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles!
    You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;
    The army of the Queen mean to besiege us.
  SIR JOHN. She shall not need; we'll meet her in the field.
  YORK. What, with five thousand men?
  RICHARD. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need.
    A woman's general; what should we fear?
                                              [A march afar off]
  EDWARD. I hear their drums. Let's set our men in order,
    And issue forth and bid them battle straight.
  YORK. Five men to twenty! Though the odds be great,
    I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.
    Many a battle have I won in France,
    When as the enemy hath been ten to one;
    Why should I not now have the like success? Exeunt

SCENE III. Field of battle between Sandal Castle and Wakefield

Alarum. Enter RUTLAND and his TUTOR

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

Enter CLIFFORD and soldiers

  CLIFFORD. Chaplain, away! Thy priesthood saves thy life.
    As for the brat of this accursed duke,
    Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
  TUTOR. And I, my lord, will bear him company.
  CLIFFORD. Soldiers, away with him!
  TUTOR. Ah, Clifford, murder not this innocent child,
    Lest thou be hated both of God and man.
                                    Exit, forced off by soldiers
  CLIFFORD. How now, is he dead already? Or is it fear
    That makes him close his eyes? I'll open them.
  RUTLAND. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
    That trembles under his devouring paws;
    And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey,
    And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.
    Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
    And not with such a cruel threat'ning look!
    Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die.
    I am too mean a subject for thy wrath;
    Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.
  CLIFFORD. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood
    Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should enter.
  RUTLAND. Then let my father's blood open it again:
    He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.
  CLIFFORD. Had I thy brethren here, their lives and thine
    Were not revenge sufficient for me;
    No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves
    And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
    It could not slake mine ire nor ease my heart.
    The sight of any of the house of York
    Is as a fury to torment my soul;
    And till I root out their accursed line
    And leave not one alive, I live in hell.
    Therefore-
  RUTLAND. O, let me pray before I take my death!
    To thee I pray: sweet Clifford, pity me.
  CLIFFORD. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.
  RUTLAND. I never did thee harm; why wilt thou slay me?
  CLIFFORD. Thy father hath.
  RUTLAND. But 'twas ere I was born.
    Thou hast one son; for his sake pity me,
    Lest in revenge thereof, sith God is just,
    He be as miserably slain as I.
    Ah, let me live in prison all my days;
    And when I give occasion of offence
    Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
  CLIFFORD. No cause!
    Thy father slew my father; therefore, die. [Stabs him]
  RUTLAND. Di faciant laudis summa sit ista tuae! [Dies]
  CLIFFORD. Plantagenet, I come, Plantagenet;
    And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade
    Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
    Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. Exit

SCENE IV. Another part of the field

Alarum. Enter the DUKE OF YORK

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