His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle,

His wonted sleep under a fresh tree’s shade,

All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,

Is far beyond a prince’s delicates,

His viands sparkling in a golden cup,

His body couched in a curious bed,

When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him.

Alarum. Enter ⌈at one door⌉ a Soldier with a dead man in his arms. King Henry stands apart

SOLDIER

Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.

This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight,

May be possessed with some store of crowns;

And I, that haply take them from him now,

May yet ere night yield both my life and them

To some man else, as this dead man doth me.

⌈He removes the dead man’s helmet⌉

Who’s this? O God! It is my father’s face

Whom in this conflict I, unwares, have killed.

O, heavy times, begetting such events!

From London by the King was I pressed forth;

My father, being the Earl of Warwick’s man,

Came on the part of York, pressed by his master;

And I, who at his hands received my life,

Have by my hands of life bereaved him.

Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did;

And pardon, father, for I knew not thee.

My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks,

And no more words till they have flowed their fill.

He weeps

KING HENRY

O piteous spectacle! O bloody times!

Whiles lions war and battle for their dens,

Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.

Weep, wretched man, I’ll aid thee tear for tear;

And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,

Be blind with tears, and break, o’ercharged with grief.

Enter ⌈at another door⌉ another Soldier with a dead man ⌈in his arms⌉

SECOND SOLDIER

Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me,

Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold—

For I have bought it with an hundred blows.

⌈He removes the dead man’s helmet⌉

But let me see: is this our foeman’s face?

Ah, no, no, no—it is mine only son!

Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee,

Throw up thine eye! (Weeping) See, see, what showers

arise,

Blown with the windy tempest of my heart,

Upon thy wounds, that kills mine eye and heart!

O, pity, God, this miserable age!

What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,

Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,

This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!

O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon,

And hath bereft thee of thy life too late!

KING HENRY

Woe above woe! Grief more than common grief!

O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds!

O, pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity!

The red rose and the white are on his face,

The fatal colours of our striving houses;

The one his purple blood right well resembles,

The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth.

Wither one rose, and let the other flourish—

If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.

FIRST SOLDIER

How will my mother for a father’s death

Take on with me, and ne’er be satisfied!

SECOND SOLDIER

How will my wife for slaughter of my son

Shed seas of tears, and ne’er be satisfied!

KING HENRY

How will the country for these woeful chances

Misthink the King, and not be satisfied!

FIRST SOLDIER

Was ever son so rued a father’s death?

SECOND SOLDIER

Was ever father so bemoaned his son?

KING HENRY

Was ever king so grieved for subjects’ woe?

Much is your sorrow, mine ten times so much.

FIRST SOLDIER (to his father’s body)

I’ll bear thee hence where I may weep my fill.

Exit ⌈at one door⌉ with the body of his father

SECOND SOLDIER (to his son’s body)

These arms of mine shall be thy winding sheet;

My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,

For from my heart thine image ne‘er shall go.

My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell,

And so obsequious will thy father be,

E’en for the loss of thee, having no more,

As Priam was for all his valiant sons.

I’ll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will—

For I have murdered where I should not kill.

Exit ⌈at another door⌉ with the body of his son

KING HENRY

Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care,

Here sits a king more woeful than you are.

Alarums. Excursions. Enter Prince Edward

PRINCE EDWARD

Fly, father, fly—for all your friends are fled,

And Warwick rages like a chafed bull!

Away—for death doth hold us in pursuit!

⌈Enter Queen Margaret⌉

QUEEN MARGARET

Mount you, my lord—towards Berwick post amain.

Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds

Having the fearful flying hare in sight,

With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath,

And bloody steel grasped in their ireful hands,

Are at our backs—and therefore hence amain.

⌈Enter Exeter⌉

EXETER

Away—for vengeance comes along with them!

Nay—stay not to expostulate—make speed—

Or else come after. I’ll away before.

KING HENRY

Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter.

Not that I fear to stay, but love to go