Page:Henry VI Part 3 (1923) Yale.djvu/37

King Henry the Sixth, II. i

And stood against them, as the hope of Troy

Against the Greeks that would have enter'd Troy.

But Hercules himself must yield to odds;

And many strokes, though with a little axe,

Hews down and fells the hardest-timber'd oak.

By many hands your father was subdu'd;

But only slaughter'd by the ireful arm

Of unrelenting Clifford and the queen,

Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despite;

Laugh'd in his face; and when with grief he wept,

The ruthless queen gave him to dry his cheeks

A napkin steeped in the harmless blood

Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slain:

And after many scorns, many foul taunts,

They took his head, and on the gates of York

They set the same; and there it doth remain,

The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.

Edw. Sweet Duke of York! our prop to lean upon,

Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay!

O Clifford! boist'rous Clifford! thou hast slain

The flower of Europe for his chivalry;

And treacherously hast thou vanquish'd him,

For hand to hand he would have vanquish'd thee.

Now my soul's palace is become a prison:

Ah! would she break from hence, that this my body

Might in the ground be closed up in rest,

For never henceforth shall I joy again,

Never, O! never, shall I see more joy.

Rich. I cannot weep, for all my body's moisture

Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart:

Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burthen;

For self-same wind that I should speak withal

 51 the hope of Troy: Hector

68, 69 Cf. n.

71 Him who in knightly prowess was the pride of Europe

80 furnace-burning: burning like a furnace 