Page 809 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Or, with the rest, where is your darling, Rutland?
Look, York: I stained this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford with his rapier’s point [80]
Made issue from the bosom of the boy:
And if thine eyes can water for his death
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.

[Throwing it to him.]
Alas, poor York, but that I hate thee deadly
I should lament thy miserable state. [85]
I prithee grieve to make me merry, York.
What, hath thy fiery heart so parched thine entrails
That not a tear can fall for Rutland’s death?
Why, art thou patient, man? Thou should’st be mad;
And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus. [90]
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
Thou wouldst be feed, I see, to make me sport:
York cannot speak unless he wear a crown. -
A crown for York! and, lords, bow low to him.
Hold you his hands whilst I do set it on. [95]

[Putting a paper crown on his head.]
Ay, marry, sir, now looks he like a king!
Ay, this is he that took King Henry’s chair,
And this is he was his adopted heir.
But how is it that great Plantagenet
Is crowned so soon and broke his solemn oath? [100]
As I bethink me, you should not be king
Till our King Henry had shook hands with death.
And will you pale your head in Henry’s glory
And rob his temples of the diadem
Now, in his life, against your holy oath? [105]
O, ’tis a fault too too unpardonable. -
Off with the crown and, with the crown, his head:
And, whilst we breathe, take time to do him dead.

CLIFFORD

That is my office for my father’s sake.

MARGARET

Nay, stay: let’s hear the orisons he makes. [110]

Y ORK