All language subtitles for 02-The.Hollow.Crown.S02E02.720p.BluRay

Know us by these
colors 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!

Ripped By mstoll

- 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.

Oh...

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.

Arghh!

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 honorable 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 succor 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,

whom I encountered

ere the battle joined.

Speak thou for me and
tell them what I did.

Whoa!

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 favors 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 kinsman 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.

What mutter you,
or what conspire you, Lords?

Do right unto this
princely Duke of York

or I will fill the house
with armed men,

and over the chair of state,
where now he sits,

write up his title
with usurping blood!

My Lord of Warwick.

Hear me but one word.

Let me for this my
lifetime reign as king.

Confirm the crown
to me and to mine heirs,

and thou shalt reign
in quiet while thou liv'st.

I am content.

Richard Plantagenet,

enjoy the kingdom
after my decease.

What wrong is this unto
the Prince, your son!

Base, fearful and
despairing Henry!

How hast thou injured
both thyself and us?

I cannot stay to hear
these articles.

Come, cousin, let us tell
the Queen these news.

Farewell, faint-hearted
and degenerate King,

in whose cold blood

no spark of honor bides.

Turn this way, Henry,
and regard them not.

They seek revenge and
therefore will not yield.

Ah, Exeter.

Why should you sigh, My Lord?

Not for myself, Lord Warwick,
but my son,

whom I unnaturally
now disinherit.

But be it as it may.

I here entail the crown to thee
and to thine heirs forever.

Conditionally,

that here thou take an oath
to cease this civil war,

and, whilst I live, to honor
me as thy king and sovereign.

This oath I willingly
take and will perform.

Long live King Henry!

Long live
King Henry.

And long live thou,
and these thy forward sons.

Now York and Lancaster
are reconciled.

Accursed be he that seeks
to make them foes.

Come, boys!

Ah, wretched man!

Would I had died a maid

and never seen thee,
never borne thee son,

seeing thou hast proved
so unnatural a father.

Hadst thou but loved him
half so well as I?

Or felt that pain
which I did for him once?

Or nourished him
as I did with my blood,

thou wouldst have left thy
dearest heart-blood there,

rather than have that
savage duke thine heir

and disinherited thine only son.

Pardon me, Margaret, The Earl of
Warwick and the Duke enforced me.

Enforced thee!

Art thou king,
and wilt be forced?

I shame to hear thee speak.

Ah, timorous wretch!

Had I been there,

which am a silly woman,

the soldiers should have
tossed me on their pikes

before I would have
granted to that act.

But thou preferr'st
thy life to thine honor.

And seeing thou dost,
I here divorce myself,

both from thy table, Henry,
and thy bed

till that act of Parliament
be repealed,

whereby my son is disinherited.

The lords that have
forsworn thy coward colors

will follow mine,
to thy foul disgrace,

and utter ruin
of the House of York.

Thus do I leave thee.

Stay, gentle Margaret,
and hear me speak.

Thou hast spoke
too much already.

Though I be not the eldest,
give me leave!

No, I can better
play the orator!

But I have reasons
strong and forcible!

Why!
How now, sons...

At a strife?

What is thy quarrel?
How began it first?

No quarrel, but
a slight contention.

About what?

The crown of England,
Father, which is yours.

Mine, boy?

Not till King Henry be dead.

Your right depends not
on his life or death.

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.

I took an oath

that he should quietly reign.

But for a kingdom
any oath may be broken.

I would break a thousand
oaths to reign one year.

God forbid your grace
should be forsworn.

So I shall,

if I claim by open war.

I will prove the opposite,

if you will hear me speak.

Thou canst not, son,

it is impossible.

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 his place.

Then, since 'twas he that
made you to depose

your oath, My Lord,

is vain and frivolous.

Therefore, to arms.

Father, do but think how sweet
a thing it is to wear a crown.

Why do we linger thus?

I will not rest until
the white rose I wear

is dyed even in the lukewarm
blood of Henry's heart!

Richard!

Enough.

My Lord!

We shall speak more of this.

The Queen with all the
northern earls and lords

intends here to besiege
you in your house.

She is hard by, My Lord.

Edward and George,
you both shall stay with me.

Richard and Edmund,
with thy mother fly.

Father, we'll win them,
fear it not.

Plantagenet!

Come, son. Edmund.

Go, Richard.
Look to thy mother!

Let's issue forth and
bid them battle straight.

Plantagenet!

Go to thy sister's house.
Do not look back.

Edmund and Richard
will follow thee.

Come, Richard!
Edmond!

Plantagenet!

Go, Mother!

Clifford approaches!
Go!

Stay here, My Lords.
Conceal thyselves awhile.

Edmond!
Richard!

Go, Mother,
we will follow!

Thou brat of this
accursed Duke of York,

whose father slew my father,

thou shall die.

I am too mean
a subject for thy wrath.

Be thou revenged on men,
and let me live.

Though speak'st
in vain, poor boy.

My father's blood hath stopp'd

the passage where
thy words should enter.

The sight of any
of the House of York

is as a fury to torment my soul!

And till I root out
their accursed line

and leave not one alive,
I live in hell.

Therefore...
O let me pray,

let me pray before
I take my death.

To thee I pray,
sweet Clifford, pity me!

Pity?

Thy father slew my father,

therefore, die.

Plantagenet,
I come, Plantagenet!

Plantagenet!

Come, rough Westmorland,

I dare your quenchless
fury to more rage.

I will not bandy with thee
word for word,

but buckle with thee

blows twice two for one.

Hold!

Valiant Clifford!

For a thousand causes I would
prolong awhile the traitor's life.

Come.

Make him kneel upon
this dung hill here.

What, what...

Was it you that would be
England's king?

Where is your mess of sons
to back you now?

Where is your darling Edmund?

A crown for York.

Look, York,

I stain this napkin with the
blood that valiant Clifford,

with his weapon's spike made issue
from the neck of a young boy.

I give thee this
to dry thy cheeks withal.

Why art thou patient, man?

Thou shouldst be mad.

York cannot speak
without a crown.

Hold you his hands, whilst
I do set it on.

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?

As I bethink me,
you should not be king

till our King Henry
had shook hands with death.

O 'tis a fault

too, too unpardonable.

Off with the crown,

and with the crown, his head!

That is my office!
For my father's sake.

Nay, Stay.

Let's hear the orisons he makes.

She-wolf of France,

O tiger's heart
wrapped in a woman's hide.

There, take thy crown,
and with thy crown my curse,

that in thy need
such comfort come to thee

as I now reap
from thy too cruel hand.

Hard-hearted Clifford,
take me from the world,

my soul to heaven,

my curse upon your heads!

Here's for my father's death!

And here's
to right

our gentle-hearted king!

Here's to avenge
beloved Somerset.

Off with his head,

set it atop the city gates.

I wonder how our
princely father scaped.

His sword.

See how the morning
opes her golden gates

and bids her farewell
to the glorious sun.

Dazzle mine eyes,
or do I see three suns?

Three glorious suns,

each one a perfect sun.

Not separated
by the racking clouds,

but severed in a pale
clear-shining sky.

See, see,

they join, embrace
and seem to kiss,

as if they vowed
some league inviolable.

Now are they but one lamp,
one light, one sun,

in this, the heaven
figures some event.

I think it cites us,
brother, to the field,

that we, the sons
of brave Plantagenet,

shall join our lights together...

And over-shine
the earth as this the world.

But here comes one whose
heavy looks foretell

some dreadful story
hanging on his tongue.

My Lord,

I was a woeful looker-on when as
the noble Duke of York was slain,

by many hands
your father was subdued,

but only slaughtered
by the ireful arm

of unrelenting Clifford
and the Queen,

who crowned the gracious
Duke in high despite.

Laughed 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 Edmund, by
rough Clifford slain. Oh...

After many scorns,
many foul taunts,

they took his head,

- and high on the city gates
they set the same. -

And there it doth remain.

The saddest spectacle
that e'er I viewed.

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.

Now my soul's palace
is become a prison.

For never henceforth
shall I joy again.

Never.

O never shall I see more joy!

I cannot weep.

Weeping is for babes!

Blows and revenge for me.

Richard, I bear thy name,

and I will venge thy death
or die by attempting it.

His name that valiant
Duke hath left with thee,

his dukedom and his chair
with me is left.

For the chair and dukedom,

throne and kingdom say,

either they are thine,

or else thou wert not his.

How now,

fair lords?

Thou shalt know this strong

right hand of mine

can pluck the diadem
from faint Henry's head.

Were he as famous
and as bold in war

as he is famed for mildness,

peace and prayer.

But in this troublous
time, what's to be done?

Shall we go throw
our coats of steel away?

Or shall we,
on the helmets of our foes,

tell our devotion
with revengeful arms?

If for the last,
Say, "Ay!"

And to it, lords!

Why, therefore Warwick
came to seek you out.

Now friends, to London
will we march,

and once again cry
"Charge!" upon our foes.

Lord Warwick,

on thy shoulder will I lean.

And when thou fail'st,

God forbid the hour...

Must Edward fall,
which peril heaven forfend!

No longer Earl of March,

but Duke of York.

The next degree
is England's royal throne.

For king of England
shalt thou be proclaimed

in every borough
as we pass along.

King Edward!

Oh. Welcome,
My Lords.

Yonder's the head
of that arch-enemy

that sought to be
encompassed with your crown.

Doth not the object
cheer your heart, My Lord?

To see this sight,

it irks my very soul.

Withhold revenge,

dear God.

My gracious Liege,
this too much lenity

and harmful pity
must be laid aside.

Ambitious York
did level at thy crown.

He, but a duke, would
have his son a king.

Thou, being a king,
blest with a goodly son,

didst yield consent
to disinherit him,

which argued thee
a most unloving father.

Were it not pity
that this godly boy

should lose his birthright
by his father's fault?

Look on the boy,

and steel thy melting heart.

Clifford...

Didst thou never hear
that things ill-got

had ever bad success?

And happy always
was it for that son

whose father for his
hoarding went to hell?

I'll leave my son

my virtuous deeds behind,

and would my father
had left me no more.

Ah, cousin York,

would thy best friends did know

how it doth grieve me

that thou art thus slain.

My Lord,

cheer up your spirits.

Our foes are nigh,

and this soft courage
makes your followers faint.

You promised knighthood
to our forward son.

Unsheathe your sword
and dub him presently.

Edward, kneel down.

Edward...

Ned...

Prince of Wales,

arise a knight,

and learn this lesson.

Draw thy sword in right.

My gracious father,
by your kingly leave

I will defend our crown
unto the death.

My Liege...

Royal commanders,
be in readiness,

for with a band of strongly
armed men comes Warwick,

backing of the Duke of York,

now Edward, made so
by his father's death.

They all proclaim him king.

Prepare your battle,
for they are at hand.

I would Your Highness would
keep from the field.

The Queen hath best success
when you are absent.

Ay, good My Lord,
and leave us to our fortune.

Why, that's my fortune, too,

therefore, I'll come.

Be it with resolution,
then, to fight!

Was ever king
that joyed an earthly throne

and could command
no more content than I?

No sooner was I crept
out of my cradle

but I was made a king,

at nine months old.

Was never subject
longed to be a king

as I do long and wish
to be a subject.

Are you there, butcher?

Ay, crookback,

here I stand to answer thee.

'Twas you that killed
my brother, was it not?

Ay, this is the hand

that stabbed thy father York,

and here is the hand

that slew thy brother Edmund,

and this is the heart that
triumphs in their death.

Speak not spite,

for you shall sup
with Jesus Christ tonight.

Foul stigmatic,

that's more than
thou canst tell.

If not in heaven,
you'll surely sup in hell!

Have at thee!

Come, Richard,

I stabbed your father's bosom,

now split my breast.

Dispatch me, Richard.

Have mercy...

...and dispatch.

Disperse me,
Richard, have mercy!

Richard!

O Henry,

hadst thou sway'd
as kings should do,

or as thy father
and his father did,

I and ten thousand
in this luckless realm

had left no mourning widows
for our death.

The foe is merciless

and will not pity.

Much effuse of blood
doth make me faint.

Dispatch, Henry.

Dispatch...

This man like me,
a humble foot soldier.

Now killed by me,
will have no use for coins.

III blows the wind
that profits nobody.

Where are your crowns, old man?

Give me thy gold,
if thou hast any gold,

for I have bought it
with an hundred blows.

Who's this?

O God!

It is my father's face.

Heavy times,
begetting such events!

That I,

who at his hands
received my life,

have by my hands of life
bereaved him.

O no!

No, no.

It is my eldest son.

Pardon me, God,

I knew not what I did.

And pardon, Father,

for I knew not thee.

O pity, God, this miserable age!

O pity,

pity...

Gentle heaven, pity!

I'll bear thee hence,
where I may weep my fill.

I'll bear thee hence,

and let them fight that will.

Would that I were dead,

if God's good will were so.

For what is in this world

but grief and woe?

Away, madam, away,
the King is missing.

York triumphs

and wallows in our spilt blood.

Away!

All hail,
King Edward.

Now breathe we, lords,

good fortune bids us pause,

and smooths the frowns
of war with peaceful looks.

Whose soul is that
who takes her heavy leave?

And now the battle's
ended, if friend or foe,

let him be gently used.

Revoke that doom of mercy,

for 'tis Clifford.

From off the city gates
fetch down the head,

your father's head,
which Clifford placed there,

instead whereof
let he supply the room.

Measure for measure

must be answered.

Lift up that fatal
screech-owl to our house

that nothing sung
but death to us and ours.

I think his
understanding is bereft.

Speak, Clifford,

dost thou know
who speaks to thee?

Dark cloudy death o'ershades

his beams of life,

and he nor sees

nor hears us what we say.

Clifford, ask mercy

and obtain no grace.

What, not an oath?

Nay, then the world goes hard
when Clifford cannot spare

an oath for his friends,

I know by that he's dead.

Off with the traitor's head,

then to the palace
with triumphant march,

there to be crowned
England's royal king.

Even as thou wilt,
sweet Warwick, let it be.

For in thy shoulder
do I build my seat.

Richard, I will create thee
Duke of Gloucester,

George, of Clarence.

Warwick, as ourself,

shall do and undo
as him pleaseth best.

Now to London, to see
these honors in possession.

Now...

Even of pure love,

I greet mine own land

with my wishful sight.

No, Harry.

Harry, 'tis no land of thine.

Thy place is filled,
thy scepter wrung from thee,

thy balm washed off wherewith
thou wast anointed.

No bending knee
will call thee Caesar now.

No, not a man comes
for redress of thee.

For how can I help them,
and not myself?

Let me embrace
the sour adversaries,

for wise men say
it is the wisest course!

This is the former king,
let's seize upon him.

Forbear awhile.

O God!

Methinks it were a happy life,
to be no better

than a homely swain.

Thereby

to see the minutes how they run,

how many make the hour
full, complete.

How many hours
bring about the day,

how many days
will finish up the year.

How many years
a mortal man may live.

When this is known,

then to divide the times,

so many hours
must I tend my flock,

so many days my ewes
have been with young.

So many years ere
I shall shear the fleece.

So... Minutes,

hours, days, months, and years,

passed over to the end
they were created,

would bring white hairs
unto a quiet grave.

Ah, what a life were this,

how sweet, how lovely.

Gives not the hawthorn bush
a sweeter shade to shepherds

looking on their silly sheep,

than doth a rich
embroidered canopy

to kings that...

That fear their
subjects' treachery?

O yes, it doth,

a thousand-fold it doth.

Say...

What art thou that talk'st
of kings and queens?

More than I seem,

and less than I was born to.

For men may talk of kings,
and why not I?

Ay.

But thou talk'st
as if thou wert a king.

Why, so I am,

in mind, and that's enough.

But, if thou be a king,

where is thy crown?

My crown is in my heart,

not on my head, nor to be seen.

My crown is called content.

A crown it is that
seldom kings enjoy.

Well, if thou be a king
crowned with content,

you must be contented
to go along with us.

God save King Edward,
fourth of that name!

God save the King!

What is Your Lordship's
business in France?

To make the French king's
sister Edward's queen.

So shalt he sinew
both these lands together,

and, having France our friend,

we shall not dread
the scatter'd foe

that hopes to rise again.

Thus Margaret used
her state and birth

to gain sanctuary
for her and her son

at the very heart
of Louis' court.

King Louis cannot
greatly sting to hurt,

yet look to have him buzz
to offend thine ears.

He is a prince soon won
with moving words.

King Louis hath been
tainted with remorse

to hear and see her plaints,
her brinish tears...

Queen Margaret
is a subtle orator.

The tiger will be mild
whiles she doth mourn.

Thou speaks't truth.

Farewell, My Lord.

Lord Hastings, farewell.

Good King of England

at Edgecote field this lady's
husband, Sir Richard Grey,

was slain, his lands then
seized on by Lancastrians.

Her suit is now
to repossess those lands.

Your Highness shall
do well to grant her suit.

It were dishonor to deny it her.

Widow, we will
consider your suit,

and come some other time
to know our mind.

Right, gracious
Lord, I cannot brook delay.

May it please Your Highness

to resolve me now,

and what your pleasure is
shall satisfy me.

I see the lady has
a thing to grant

before the King will grant

her humble suit.

How many children hast thou,
widow, tell me?

One son, my gracious Lord.

'Twere pity he should lose
his father's lands.

Be pitiful, dread Lord,
and grant it then.

Lords, give us leave.

Now tell me, madam,

do you love your son?

Ay, full as dearly
as I love myself.

And would you not do much
to do him good?

To do him good,
I would sustain some harm.

Then get your husband's lands,
to do him good.

Therefore I came
unto Your Majesty.

What service wilt thou do me,
if I give them?

What you command,
that rests in me to do.

But you will take
exceptions to my boon.

No, gracious Lord,
except I cannot do it.

Ay, but thou canst do
what I mean to ask.

Well, then I will do
what Your Grace commands.

What stops, My Lord,

shall I not hear my task?

An easy task
'tis but to love a king.

That's soon performed,
because I am a subject.

No, by my troth,
I did not mean such love.

Well, then you mean
not as I thought you did.

To tell thee plain,
I aim to lie with thee.

To tell you plain,
I had rather lie in prison.

Why then thou shalt not
have thy husband's lands?

Well then, mine honesty
shall be my dower,

for by that loss
I will not purchase them.

Therein thou wrong'st
thy child mightily.

Herein Your Highness wrongs
both him and me,

in thy suggestion
I become thy whore.

You do mistake my meaning, lady.

Say that King Edward
take thee for his queen?

His queen, My Lord?

Sweet widow,

by my state I swear to
thee, I mean no more

than what my soul intends,

and that is to enjoy thee
for my love.

And that is more than
I will yield unto.

Listen to me, widow...

I did mean my queen.

Welcome, brave Warwick!

What brings thee to France?

From worthy Edward,
King of Albion,

I come in kindness

and unfeigned love.

First, to crave
a league of amity,

and then to confirm
that friendship

with a nuptial knot,

if thou vouchsafe to grant

that virtuous Lady Bona,

thy fair sister,

to England's king

in lawful marriage.

King Louis and Lady Bona,

hear me speak

before you answer Warwick.

His demand springs not from
Edward's well-meant honest love

but from deceit.

Bred by necessity,

for how can tyrants
safely govern home

unless abroad they purchase
great alliance?

Injurious Margaret...

And why not "Queen"?

Because thy father Henry
did usurp,

and she is no more
queen than thou art prince.

Why, Warwick,

canst thou speak
'gainst thy true king

and not betray thy treason
with a blush?

For shame, Oxford,

leave Henry,
and call Edward King.

No, Warwick, no,

while life upholds this arm,

this arm upholds the House of Lancaster.

And I the House of York!

Now Warwick,

tell me,

even upon thy conscience,
Is Edward your true king?

For I were loath to link with him
that were not lawful chosen.

Thereon I pawn my credit
and mine honor.

Our sister shall be Edward's.

Until today,
Louis was Henry's friend.

And still is friend
to him and Margaret.

And shall you have
all kindness at my hand

that your estate requires
and mine can yield.

Warwick, this is
some post to us or thee.

My Lord of Warwick,
this letter is for you,

sent from your brother.

This from our king
unto Your Highness.

And Margaret, this for you,

from whom I know not.

Has your king married
the Lady Grey?

Is this the alliance
that he seeks with France?

Dare he presume
to scorn us in this manner?

King Louis,

I here protest,
in sight of heaven

that I am clear

from this misdeed of Edward's...

No more my king,
for he dishonors me,

but most himself,
if he could see his shame.

Did I impale him
with the regal crown?

Did I put Henry
from his native right?

And am rewarded
at the last with shame?

Shame on himself,
for my desert is honor!

I here renounce him.

And return to Henry.

My noble Queen,
let former grudges pass,

and henceforth
I am thy true servitor.

I will revenge
this wrong to Lady Bona

and replant Henry
in his former state.

Warwick,

these words

have turned my hate to love,

and I forgive
and quite forget old faults,

and joy that thou becom'st
King Henry's friend.

So much his friend,
ay, his unfeigned friend,

that if King Louis
will vouchsafe to furnish us

with some few bands
of chosen soldiers,

I'll undertake
to land them on our coast

and force the tyrant from ms seat by war.

Dear brother,

how shall Bona be revenged

but by thy help
to this distressed queen?

You shall have aid.

Let me give humble thanks
for all at once.

Then, England's messenger, return
in post, and tell false Edward,

thy supposed king, that Louis of
France is sending over masquers

to revel it with him
and his new bride.

Tell him I am ready
to put armor on.

Tell him from me that
he hath done me wrong,

therefore I'll uncrown him
ere't be long.

Warwick,
answer me one doubt...

What pledge have we
of thy firm loyalty?

This assures
my constant loyalty,

that, if our queen
and this young prince agree,

I'll join mine
youngest daughter,

Lady Anne

to him forthwith
in holy wedlock bands.

Yes, I agree,

and thank you for your motion.

Son Edward.

Yes, I accept.

Now here, to pledge my vow,

I give my hand.

I long till Edward fall
by war's mischance

for mocking marriage
with a dame of France!

Oh!

Now, brother of Clarence,

how like you our choice of wife?

I am your king,
and I must have my will.

And shall have your will,
because our king.

Yet hasty marriage
seldom proveth well.

Yea, brother Richard,
are you offended, too?

Not I, no!

God forbid that I should
wish them severed

whom God hath joined together!

Setting your scorns
and your mislike aside,

give me some reason
why thou disapproves

of Elizabeth as my wife
and England's queen.

Speak freely what you think.

Then, to have joined with France

in sound alliance by marrying
the proud King Louis' sister

would more have strengthened
this our commonwealth

than any home-bred marriage.

Ay, what of that?

It was my will and grant, and for this
once my will shall stand for law.

And yet...

Methinks Your Grace
hath not done well

to give the heir
and daughter of Lord Scales

unto the brother
of your loving bride.

She better would have
suited me than Rivers.

Alas, poor
Clarence, is it for a wife

that thou art malcontent?

I will provide thee.

And in choosing for yourself,
you've shown your judgment

which being shallow,

you shall give me leave to play
the broker in mine own behalf,

and to that end
I shortly mind to leave you.

Leave me, or tarry,
Edward will be king

and not be tied
unto his brother's will.

My Lord, their dislike,
to whom I would be pleasing,

doth cloud my joys
with danger and with sorrow.

My love, forbear
to fawn upon their frowns.

What danger or what
sorrow can befall you

so long as Edward
is thy constant friend

and their true sovereign
whom they must obey?

Nay, shall obey,
and love thee, too...

Unless they seek
for hatred at my hands.

My Liege!

What letters or what news
from France, good Hastings?

And what answer makes
King Louis unto our letters?

"Go tell false Edward,
thy supposed king,

"that Louis of France
is sending over masquers

"to revel it with him
and his new bride."

Is Louis so brave?

But what said Henry's queen?

For I am sure that
she was there in place.

"Tell him," quoth she,

"I am ready
to put armor on."

Belike she minds
to play the Amazon.

But what said Warwick
to these injuries?

He, more incensed against your
majesty than all the rest,

sent to My Liege these words...

"Tell him from me that
he hath done me wrong,

"and therefore I'll uncrown
him ere't be long."

Ha!

Durst the traitor breathe
out so proud words?

Well, I will arm me,
being thus forewarned.

They shall have wars
and pay for their presumption.

But say, is Warwick

friends with Margaret?

Ay.

Gracious sovereign, they are
so linked in friendship

that the young prince
will marry Warwick's daughter.

Now, brother king,
farewell, and sit you fast,

for I will hence
to Warwick's other daughter,

that, though I want a kingdom,

yet in marriage may I not
prove inferior to yourself.

My brother flies to Warwick?

Yet am I arm'd against
the worst can happen,

and haste is needful
in this desp'rate case.

They are already,
or quickly will be, landed.

I need to levy men
and make for war,

but ere I go, brother Richard...

Tell me if you love
Warwick more than me.

If it be so, then go,
depart to him.

I rather wish for foes
than hollow friends.

Will you stand by us?

Yay.

And in despite of those
that shall withstand you.

Trust me, My Lord,
all hitherto goes well.

Hmm.

The common people
by numbers swarm to us.

And see where Clarence waits.

Speak suddenly,
My Lord, are we all friends?

Fear not that, My Lord.

Then, gentle Clarence,
welcome unto Warwick.

I hold it cowardice
to rest mistrustful

where a noble heart hath pawned
an open hand in sign of love,

else might I think
that Clarence,

Edward's brother, were but a
feigned friend to our proceedings.

But welcome, George,

my younger daughter
shall be thine.

My Lord!

Open the gate!

Open the gate
for Lord Warwick.

Father...

Good Warwick.

After God,

thou set me free.

He was the author,

thou the instrument.

Therefore,

that I may concur
fortune's spite,

and that the people

of this blessed land

may not be punished

by my thwarting stars.

Warwick...

Although my head

still wear the crown,

I here resign
my government to thee,

for thou art fortunate

in all thy deeds.

And I choose only Clarence

for Protector.

Warwick and Clarence
give me both your hands.

Now join your hands,

and with your hands your hearts,

that no dissension
hinder government.

I make you both
protectors of this land.

While I myself
will lead a private life here

and spend my latter days

in devotion,

to sin's rebuke and

my Creator's praise.

We'll yoke together,
like a double shadow

to Henry's body,
and supply his place.

Then for the first
of all your chief affairs

let me entreat,

for I command no more,

that Margaret,
your queen be sent for,

to return from France
with speed.

It shall be done, My
Sovereign, with all speed.

And Exeter,

what youth is that, of whom you
seem to have so tender care?

My Liege, it is young Henry,

Earl of Richmond.

After yourself and your
young son, the Prince,

he is the last descendent
of old John of Gaunt.

He is the House of Lancaster.

Come hither,

England's hope.

If secret powers

suggest but truth
to my divining thoughts,

this pretty lad will prove
our country's bliss.

Make much of him, lords.

Come, sit by me.

What counsel, lords?

Let's levy men,
meet Edward in the field.

Farewell, sweet lords,
let's meet at Tewkesbury.

Of this young Richmond,

forthwith I'll take him
hence to Brittany,

till storms be past
of civil enmity.

It shall be so.

See where
the surly Warwick sits.

O unbid spite,
is sportful Edward come?

Now, Warwick,
wilt thou, as is thy duty,

speak gentle words
and humbly bend thy knee?

Call me thy king
and at my hands beg mercy.

Nay, rather, wilt thou
draw thy forces hence,

confess who set thee up
and plucked thee down?

Call Warwick patron
and be penitent,

and thou shalt still remain
the Duke of York.

Is not a dukedom, sir,

a goodly gift?

- I will do thee service for so
good a gift. -

'Twas I that gave
the kingdom to thy brother.

Why then 'tis mine,
if but by Warwick's gift.

Come, Warwick, take
the time, kneel down.

Kneel down!

Nay, when? Strike now,
or else the iron cools.

I had rather chop
this hand off at a blow

and with the other fling it at thy
face, than bear so low a sail.

And lo...

Where George of Clarence
sweeps along,

with whom an upright zeal
to right prevails,

more than the nature
of a brother's love!

Come, Clarence, come.

Thou wilt, if Warwick call.

Brother?

Father of Warwick,
know you what this means?

Look here,

I throw my infamy at thee.

I will not ruinate
my father's house,

who gave his blood
to lime the stones together

and set up Lancaster.

I am so sorry
for my trespass made

that, to deserve well
at my brother's hands,

I here proclaim
myself thy mortal foe.

With resolution, wheresoe'er
I meet thee to plague thee

for thy foul misleading me.

And so, proud-hearted Warwick,

I defy thee,

and to my brother
turn my blushing cheeks.

Pardon me, Edward,

I will make amends.

And, Richard,

do not frown upon my faults,
for I will henceforth

be no more unconstant.

Now, welcome more,
and ten times more, beloved,

than if thou never
hadst deserved our hate.

Welcome, good Clarence,

this is brother-like.

O passing traitor,

perjured and unjust.

What, Warwick,

wilt thou leave
thy tent and fight?

Or shall we beat
the stones about thine ears?

Alas, I am not
cooped here for defense.

I will unto the field presently

and bid thee battle, Edward,

if thou dar'st.

Yes, Warwick, Edward
dares, and leads the way.

Come lords, to the field.

St George, and victory!

Forward!

Charge!

It grieves me to see thee
once more a traitor.

Clarence.

Come.

Why dost thou pause?

With thy brave bearing
should I be in love, Exeter.

But that thou art
so fast mine enemy.

Nor should thy prowess
want praise and esteem,

but that 'tis shows
ignobly and in treason.

War hath given thee peace,
now thou art still.

Peace to his soul, heaven,

if it be thy Will.

Thus yields the cedar
to the ax's edge.

Lo, now my glory smeared
in dust and blood.

Why, what is pomp, rule,
reign, but earth and dust?

And live we how we can,

yet die we must.

Ah, Warwick.

Warwick.

Warwick,

wert thou as we are we might
recover all our loss again.

Look to my daughter, Oxford,

look to Anne and keep her safe.

I bid you farewell

to meet in heaven.

Victory for York!

Take her!

Hang the traitor.

Go, send him hence,
I will not hear him speak.

God save King Henry!

God save Queen Margaret!

So part we sadly
in this troublous world,

to meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem!

Lo where youthful
Prince Ned comes.

Ned! EDWARD IV: Bring
forth the gallant.

Let us hear him speak.

What? Can so young
a thorn begin to prick?

Edward,

what satisfaction
canst thou make

for all the trouble
thou hast turned me to?

Speak like a subject,
proud ambitious York.

Suppose that I am now
my father's mouth.

Resign thy chair, and where I
stand kneel thou, traitor.

By heaven, wretch,
we'll plague ye for that word.

Peace, wilful boy,
or I will charm your tongue.

Untutored lad,
thou art impudent.

I know my duty.
You are all undutiful.

Lascivious Edward,
and thou perjured George.

And thou, misshapen Dick.

Ned!

I tell ye all
I am your better.

Traitors as ye are,

and thou usurp'st
my father's right and mine!

Take that...

Oh!
Sprawl'st thou?

Take this, to end thy agony.

Kill me, too!

Marry, and shall.

Hold, Richard, hold,
for we have done too much.

Why should she live,

to fill the world with words?

Excuse me
to the King, my brother.

I'll hence to London
on a serious matter.

Ere ye come there,
be sure to hear some news.

What?
The Tower.

The Tower!

Away with her. I charge
ye, bear her hence.

Nay, never bear me hence!

Dispatch me here!

Here!

Away with her and waft
her hence to France.

Where's Richard gone?

To London.

All in haste and as I guess.

To make a bloody supper
in the Tower.

He's sudden, if a thing
comes in his head.

Victory for York
and victory for Edward.

Now Duke of York,

soon to be a king.

Would he were wasted,

marrow, bones and all...

That from his loins
no hopeful branch may spring

to cross me from
the golden time I look for.

Why, I do but dream
on sovereignty.

Like one that stands
upon a promontory

and spies a far-off shore.

So do I wish for the crown,

being so far off.

My eye's too quick,

my heart o'erweens too much,

unless my hand and strength
could equal them.

Well, say there is no kingdom
then for Richard,

what other pleasure
can the world afford?

I'll make my heaven
in a lady's lap,

and witch sweet ladies
with my words and looks.

O miserable thought,

and more unlikely
than to accomplish

20 golden crowns!

Why, love forswore me
in my mother's womb.

And did corrupt frail nature
with some bribe.

To shrink mine arm up
like a withered shrub.

To place an envious mountain
on my back,

where sits deformity
to mock my body.

To shape my legs
of an unequal size.

To disproportion me in every part.
Like to a chaos!

And am I then
a man to be beloved?

O monstrous fault,
to harbor such a thought.

Then, since this earth
affords no joy to me,

I'll make my heaven
to dream upon the crown.

And, whiles I live,
account this world but hell.

And yet I know not
how to get the crown,

for many lives stand
between me and home.

And I, like one
lost in a thorny wood,

seeking a way
and straying from the way,

torment myself to catch
the English crown.

And from that torment
I will free myself.

Or hew my way out
with a bloody ax.

Why, I can smile,

and murder whiles I smile.

And cry "Content!"

to that which grieves my heart.

And wet my cheeks
with artificial tears.

And frame my face
to all occasions.

Can I do this,
and cannot get a crown?

Were it farther off,

I'll pluck it down.

Good day, My Lord.

What, at your book so hard?

Sirrah, leave us to ourselves.

We must confer.

So flies the reckless
shepherd from the wolf.

What scene of death
hath we two now to act?

Suspicion always
haunts the guilty mind.

The thief doth fear
each bush an officer.

Ah, kill me with thy weapons,
not with words.

My breast can better
brook thy dagger's point

than can my ears
that tragic history.

But wherefore dids't thou come?

Is't for my life?

Think'st thou
I am an executioner?

A persecutor
I am sure, thou art.

If murdering innocents
be executing,

why then, thou art
an executioner.

Thy son I killed
for his presumption.

Hadst thou been killed
when first thou didst presume,

thou hadst not lived
to kill a son of mine.

And thus I prophesy

that many a thousand,
men for their sons,

wives for their husbands,

orphans for their parents'
timeless deaths,

shall rue the hour
that ever thou wast born.

The owl shriek'd at thy birth,

an evil sign.

Dogs howled,

and hideous tempest
shook down trees.

Thy mother felt
more than a mother's pain.

And yet brought forth
less than a mother's hope.

To wit, an indigested
and deformed lump.

Teeth hadst thou in thy head
when thou wast born,

to signify thou earnest
to bite the world.

And if the rest
be true which I have...

I'll hear no more!

Die, prophet in thy speech!

For this amongst the rest,
was I ordained.

Ay, and for much
more slaughter after this.

O God, forgive my sins,

and pardon thee.

See how my sword weeps

for the poor King's death.

O may such purple tears
be always shed

from them that wish
the downfall of our house.

If any spark of life
be yet remaining,

down, down to hell,
and say I sent thee thither.

I that have neither pity,
love, nor fear!

Indeed, 'tis true
that Henry told me of.

For often have I heard
my mother say

I came into this world
with my legs forward.

Had I not reason,
think ye, to make haste,

and seek their ruin
that usurp'd our right?

Then, since the heavens

have shaped my body so,

let hell make crook'd
my mind to answer it.

I have no brother,

I am like no brother.

And this word "love,"

which gray-beards call divine,

be resident in men
like one another,

and not in me.

I am myself alone.

Once more we sit
in England's royal throne.

Repurchased with
the blood of enemies.

Thus have we swept
suspicion from our seat

and made our
footstool of security.

Listen to me.

I am the Queen.

I am the Queen!

Prince Edward,
for thee, thine uncles

and myself have in our armors
watched the winter's night.

That thou mightst
repossess the crown in peace.

And of our labors
thou shalt reap the gain.

Clarence and Gloucester,

kiss your princely nephew,
brothers both.

Thanks, noble Clarence.

Worthy brother, thanks.

And, that I love the tree

from whence thou sprang'st.

Witness the loving kiss
I give the fruit.

To say the truth,

Judas kissed his master

and cried, "All hail"

when as he meant all harm.

Now am I seated
as my soul delights,

having my country's peace
and brothers' loves,

sound drums and trumpets!

Hail the House of York!

For here I hope

begins our lasting joy.

Long live Prince Edward!

Long live Prince Edward!

Long live Prince Edward!

Ripped By mstoll