The Hollow Crown: Henry VI part 2

.. know us by these colours for thy foes.

This pale and angry rose...

As symbol white of my blood-drinking hate.

Welcome, Queen Margaret.

My King.

Civil dissension is a viperous worm,

That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.

I am far better born than is the King,

That gold should round engirt these brows of mine.

Call forth our troops and bid them arm themselves!

We shall return to wear our crown.

Boys!

Edward. George.

And... Richard!

My Lord! Your Highness...

The Duke of York with Warwick has set out

And with a puissant and a mighty power

Is marching hitherward in proud array.

They will be here by morning.

Where is the Queen?

She's with the Duke of Somerset within.

O...

.. could this kiss be printed in thy hand.

A wilderness is populous enough,

If I but had thy heavenly company.

For where thou art, there is the world itself,

And where thou art not, desolation.

Yield or die, Somerset.

Father!

Base Suffolk!

Warwick calls!

Suffolk, I say, come forth and fight with me!

Suffolk!

For one or both of us the time is come.

Hold, Warwick, seek you out some other chase,

For I myself must hunt this deer to death.

Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st.

Come, Suffolk. Defend thy rose!

I know thee, Somerset.

Obscure and lowly swain, away.

The honourable blood of Lancaster

Must not be shed by such a jaded groom.

Thou kennel, puddle, sink, whose filth and dirt

Trouble the silver spring where England drinks.

Thy lips that kissed the Queen shall sweep the ground

For now the House of York Burns with revenging fire.

It is impossible that I should die By such a lowly vassal as thyself.

Thy words move rage and not remorse in me.

Ay, but my deeds shall stay thy fury soon.

What, are ye daunted now? Now will ye stoop?

True nobility is exempt from fear.

Come, show what cruelty thou can'st,

That this my death may never be forgot.

Father!

Where's my father?

Suffolk!

Where's the Duke of Suffolk?

Father!

O, let the vile world end

And the promised flames of the last day

Knit earth and heaven together!

Even at this sight

My heart is turned to stone.

Henceforth I will not have to do with pity.

In cruelty will I seek out my fame.

Somerset!

Somerset!

Somerset!

Somerset!

Think, Margaret, on revenge and cease to weep.

But who can cease to weep and look on this?

My hope is gone.

Alas, my Queen.

I fear me, love, if that I were dead

Thou wouldst not mourn so much for me.

Margaret...

God, our hope, will succour us.

Come, we must away from here.

We shall to London get, where you are loved

And where this breach now in our fortunes made

May readily be stopped.

Now, by my sword, thou hast fought well today.

So have we all.

There is one old supporter of the King

Is either slain or wounded dangerously.

That this is true, father, behold his blood.

Why, that's my son!

Did anyone see or hear The fate of Somerset,

The foulest canker of the blood-red rose?

My Lord of York, here is the Duke of Somerset,

Who I encountered ere the battle joined.

Speak thou for me and tell them what I did.

What? Is Your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?

What? Is Your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?

Thus do I hope to shake King Henry's head!

If it be true the King has fled to London,

We will pursue him there.

Sound drum and trumpets, and to London all,

And more such days as these to us befall!

Richard!

Son!

Richard!

This is the palace of the fearful King,

And this the regal seat.

Possess it, York,

For this is thine and not King Henry's heirs'.

Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will.

We'll all assist you; he that flies shall die.

Thanks, gentle Vernon.

Stay by me, then, my Lords.

And when the King comes, offer him no violence,

Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.

The Queen this day here holds her parliament,

But little thinks we shall be of her council.

By words and blows here let us claim our right.

The "Bloody Parliament" shall it be called,

Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be King,

And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice

Hath made us bywords to our enemies.

Then leave me not, my Lords, be resolute.

I mean to take possession of my right.

Neither the King

nor he that loves him best

Dares stir a wing if Warwick shake his bells.

And I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares.

My son!

York and Warwick are here...

Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.

Look where the sturdy rebel stands.

What, shall we suffer this?

Let's pluck him down.

My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it!

Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmorland.

My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament

Let us assail the family of York.

Far be the thought of it from Henry's heart

To make a shambles of the Parliament-House.

Know you not the city favours them,

And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?

But when the Duke is slain, they will quickly fly.

Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats

Shall be the war that Henry means to use.

Thou, factious Duke of York, descend my throne

And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet.

I am thy sovereign.

I am thine.

For shame, come down.

He made thee Duke of York.

It was my inheritance, as the earldom was.

Thy father was a traitor to the crown.

Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown,

In following this usurping Henry.

Whom should he follow but his natural King?

True, Clifford, and that's Richard, Duke of York.

And shall I stand, and thou sit in my throne?

It must and shall be so.

Content thyself.

Be Duke of Lancaster.

let him be King.

He is both King and Duke of Lancaster,

And that the Lord of Westmorland shall maintain.

And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget

That we are those which chased you from the field

And who slew your father, youthful Clifford.

Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief.

Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,

Thy kinsmen and thy friends, I'll have more lives

Than drops of blood were in my father's veins.

Will we show you our title to the crown?

If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.

What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown?

Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York.

I am the son of Henry the Fifth,

Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop

And seized upon their towns and provinces.

Talk not of France, since thou hast lost it all.

The Lord Protector lost it, and not I.

When I was crowned I was but nine months old.

You are old enough now and yet methinks you lose.

Father, tear the crown from the usurper's head!

Sweet father, do so; set it on your head.

Sound drums and trumpets, and the King will fly!

Sons, peace.

Think'st thou that I will leave my kingly throne,

Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?

No, first shall war unpeople this my realm.

My title's good, and better far than his.

Prove it, Henry, and thou shalt be King.

Henry the Fourth by conquest got the crown.

'Twas by rebellion against his King.

Richard resigned the crown to Henry the Fourth,

Whose heir my father was, and I am his.

He rose against him and made him to resign the crown perforce.

Suppose he did it unconstrained,

Think you 'twere prejudicial to his crown?

No, for he could not so resign his crown,

But that the next heir should succeed and reign.

Art thou against us, Duke of Exeter?

My conscience tells me he is lawful King.

All will revolt from me and turn to him.