_Flourish. Enter_ KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, _the_ PRINCE OF WALES, CLIFFORD, _and_ NORTHUMBERLAND, _with drum and trumpets_. _Q. Mar._ Welcome, my lord, to this brave town of York. [cbb001] Yonder’s the head of that arch-enemy [cbb002] That sought to be encompass’d with your crown: Doth not the object cheer your heart, my lord? _K. Hen._ Ay, as the rocks cheer them that fear their wreck: ·cbb005· To see this sight, it irks my very soul. Withhold revenge, dear God! ’tis not my fault, Nor wittingly have I infringed my vow. [cbb008] _Clif._ My gracious liege, this too much lenity And harmful pity must be laid aside. [cbb010] To whom do lions cast their gentle looks? Not to the beast that would usurp their den. Whose hand is that the forest bear doth lick? Not his that spoils her young before her face. Who ’scapes the lurking serpent’s mortal sting? ·cbb015· Not he that sets his foot upon her back. The smallest worm will turn being trodden on, And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood. Ambitious York did level at thy crown, Thou smiling while he knit his angry brows: [cbb020] He, but a duke, would have his son a king, And raise his issue, like a loving sire; Thou, being a king, blest with a goodly son, Didst yield consent to disinherit him, Which argued thee a most unloving father. ·cbb025· Unreasonable creatures feed their young; And though man’s face be fearful to their eyes, Yet, in protection of their tender ones, Who hath not seen them, even with those wings Which sometime they have used with fearful flight, [cbb030] Make war with him that climb’d unto their nest, Offering their own lives in their young’s defence? For shame, my liege, make them your precedent! [cbb033] Were it not pity that this goodly boy Should lose his birthright by his father’s fault, ·cbb035· And long hereafter say unto his child, ‘What my great-grandfather and grandsire got [cbb037] My careless father fondly gave away’? Ah, what a shame were this! Look on the boy; [cbb039] And let his manly face, which promiseth ·cbb040· Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart [cbb041] To hold thine own and leave thine own with him. [cbb042] _K. Hen._ Full well hath Clifford play’d the orator, Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear ·cbb045· That things ill-got had ever bad success? [cbb046] And happy always was it for that son Whose father for his hoarding went to hell? [cbb048] I’ll leave my son my virtuous deeds behind; And would my father had left me no more! ·cbb050· For all the rest is held at such a rate As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep Than in possession any jot of pleasure. [cbb053] Ah, cousin York! would thy best friends did know How it doth grieve me that thy head is here! ·cbb055·