Will cost my crown, and like an empty eagle
Tire on the flesh of me and of my son!
The loss of those three lords torments my heart.
I'll write unto them, and entreat them fair;
Come, cousin, you shall be the messenger.
EXETER. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. Exeunt
SCENE II. Sandal Castle, near Wakefield, in Yorkshire
Flourish. Enter EDWARD, RICHARD, and MONTAGUE
RICHARD. Brother, though I be youngest, give me leave.
EDWARD. No, I can better play the orator.
MONTAGUE. But I have reasons strong and forcible.
Enter the DUKE OF YORK
YORK. Why, how now, sons and brother! at a strife?
What is your quarrel? How began it first?
EDWARD. No quarrel, but a slight contention.
YORK. About what?
RICHARD. About that which concerns your Grace and us-
The crown of England, father, which is yours.
YORK. Mine, boy? Not till King Henry be dead.
RICHARD. Your right depends not on his life or death.
EDWARD. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now.
By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe,
It will outrun you, father, in the end.
YORK. I took an oath that he should quietly reign.
EDWARD. But for a kingdom any oath may be broken:
I would break a thousand oaths to reign one year.
RICHARD. No; God forbid your Grace should be forsworn.
YORK. I shall be, if I claim by open war.
RICHARD. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me speak.
YORK. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.
RICHARD. An oath is of no moment, being not took
Before a true and lawful magistrate
That hath authority over him that swears.
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,