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Run back and bite, because he was withheld ;
Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapp'd his tail between his legs, and cried :
And such a piece of service will you do,
If you oppose yourselves to match lord Warwick.

Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump,
As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!

York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.
Clif. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.

K. Hen. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow ?
Old Salisbury,--shame to thy silver hair,
Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son !
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian,
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles !
O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty ?
If it be banish'd from the frosty head,
Where shall it find a harbour in the earth
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And shame thine honourable age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want'st experience ?
Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it?
For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age.

Sal. My lord, I have consider'd with myself
The title of this most renowned duke;
And in my conscience do repute his grace
The rightful heir to England's royal seat.

K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?
Sal. I have.
K. Hen. Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath?

Sal. It is great sin to swear unto a sin;
But greater sin to keep a sinful oath.
Who can be bound by any solemn vow
To do a murd'rous deed, to rob a man,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony,
To wring the widow from her custom'd right;
And have no other reason for this wrong,
But that he was bound by a solemn oath?

Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.

York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast;
I am resolv'd for death, or dignity.

Clif. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.

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War. You were best to go to bed and dream again,
To keep thee from the tempest of the field.

Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm,
Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;
And that I'll write upon thy burgonet,
Might I but know thee by thy household badge.

War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's crest,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff,
This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,
(As on a mountain-top the cedar shows,
That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,)
Even to affright thee with the view thereof.

Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear,
And tread it underfoot with all contempt,
Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear.

Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father,
To quell the rebels, and their 'complices.

Rich. Fie! charity, for shame! speak not in spite, For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.

Y. Clif. Foul stígmatick, that's more than thou canst tell. Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.

[Excunt severally.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK.
War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls !
And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
Now,-when the angry trumpet sounds alarm,
And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,-
Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me!
Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.

Enter YORK.
How now, my noble lord! what, all a-foot ?

York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;
But match to match I have encounter'd him,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.

War. Of one or both of us the time is come.

York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chace,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death.

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


As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.

[Exit. Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou pause ?

York. With thy brave bearing should I be in love, But that thou art so fast mine enemy.

Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem, But that 'tis shown ignobly, and in treason.

York. So let it help me now against thy sword,
As I in justice and true right express

Clif. My soul and body on the action both !
York. A dreadful lay !-address thee instantly.
Clif. La fin couronne les æuvres.

[They fight, and CLIFFORD falls and dies. York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!

[Exit. Enter Young CLIFFORD. Y. Clif. Shame and confusion ! all is on the rout; Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, Whom angry heavens do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance !--Let no soldier fly: He that is truly dedicate to war, Hath no self-love ; nor he, that loves himself, Hath not essentially, but by circumstance, The name of valour.

[Seeing his father's body.

O, let the vile world end,
And the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heaven together!
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds
To cease !

-Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve
The silver livery of advised age,
And, in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus
To die in ruffian battle ?—Even at this sight,
My heart is turn'd to stone: and while 'tis mine,
It shall be stony. York not our old men spures;
No more will I their babes: tears virginal
Shall be to me even as the dew to fire ;
And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims,
Shall to my flaming wrath be oil and flax.
Henceforth I will not have to do with pity:
Meet I an infant of the house of York,

Into as many gobbets will I cut it,
As wild Medea young Absyrtus did:
In cruelty will I seek out my fame.-
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house :

[Taking up the body.
As did Æneas old Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;
But then, Æneas bare a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.

[Exit. Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET and SOMERSET, fighting; SOMERSET is killed.

Rich. So, lie thou there ;-
For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,
The Castle in St Albans, Somerset
Hath made the wizard famous in his death.
Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still:
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.

[Exit. Alarums: Excursions. Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET,

and others, retreating. Q. Mar. Away, my lord ! you are slow ; for shame, away! K. Hen. Can we outrun the heavens? good Margaret, stay.

Q. Mar. What are you made of you 'll nor fight, nor fly: Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, To give the enemy way; and to secure us By what we can, which can no more but fly. [Alarum afar off If

you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom
Of all our fortunes : but if we haply scape,
(As well we may, if not through your neglect,)
We shall to London get : where you are lov'd;
And where this breach, now in our fortunes made,
May readily be stopp'd.

Re-enter Young CLIFFORD.
Y. Clif. But that my heart on future mischief set,
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly:
But fly you must; uncurable discomfit
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.
Away, for your relief! and we will live
To see their day, and them our fortune give :
Away, my lord, away!


SCENE III - Field near St ALBANS.
Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter YORK, RICHARD PLANTAGENET,

WARWICK, and Soldiers, with drum and colours.
York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him,-

That winter lion, who in rage forgets
Aged contusions and all brush of time,
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,
Repairs him with occasion ? this happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.

My noble father,
Three times to-day I holp him to his horse,
Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off,
Persuaded him from any farther act:
But still, where danger was, still there I met him ;
And like rich hangings in a homely house,
So was his will in his old feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look where he comes.

Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to-day;
By the mass, so did we all.— I thank you, Richard :
God knows how long it is I have to live ;
And it hath pleas'd him, that three times to-day
You have defended me from imminent deatlı.-
Well, lords, we have not got that which we have :
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled,
Being opposites of such repairing nature.

York. I know our safety is to follow them ;
For, as I hear, the king is fled to London,
To call a present court of parliament.
Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth :-

lord Warwick ? shall we after them?
War. After them! nay, before them, if we can.
Now, by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day:
Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York,
Shall be etérniz'd in all age to come.—
Sound, drums and trumpets :--and to London all;
And more such days as these to us befall !



Printed by Ballantyne & Company, Edinburgh.

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