* Hath clapped 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, 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 your

selves.

* 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 banished from the frosty head,

* Where shall it find a harbor in the earth ?—
*Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
*And shame thine honorable 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 considered 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 murderous 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 customed 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 resolved for death or dignity.

Clif. The first, I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. War. You were best to go to bed, and dream again,

To keep thee from the tempest of the field.

Clif. I am resolved to bear a greater storm,
Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;
And that I'll write upon thy burgonet,1

Might I but know thee by thy household badge.
War. Now, by my father's badge, old Nevil's

crest,

The rampant bear chained 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 under foot with all contempt,
Despite the bearward 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 stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell.

Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell.

[Exeunt severally.

1 A burgonet is a helmet; a Burgundian's steel cap or casque.

2 One on whom nature has set a mark of deformity, a stigma. It was, originally and properly, "a person who had been branded with a hot iron for some crime."

SCENE II. Saint Albans.

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 afoot?

York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my

steed;

'But match to match I have encountered him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows 'Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.

Enter CLIFFORD.

• War. Of one or both of us the time is come. York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other

chase,

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 unassailed.

[Exit WARWICK.

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.

'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 it!

6

Clif. My soul and body on the action both!— York. A dreadful lay!-address thee instantly. [They fight, and CLIFFORD falls.

Clif. La fin couronne les œuvres.

[Dies.2 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 valor.-O, let the vile world end, [Seeing his dead father.

1 A dreadful wager.

2 The author, in making Clifford fall by the hand of York, has departed from the truth of history, a practice not uncommon with him when he does his utmost to make his characters considerable. This circumstance, however, serves to prepare the reader or spectator for the vengeance afterwards taken by Clifford's son on York and Rutland. At the beginning of the third part of this drama, the Poet has forgot this circumstance, and there represents Clifford's death as it really happened:—

"Lord Clifford, and lord Stafford, all abreast,

Charged our main battle's front, and breaking in,
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain."

These lines were adopted by Shakspeare from The True Tragedy of Richard Duke of York, upon which the Third Part of King Henry VI. is founded.

* And the premised1 flames of the last day * Knit earth and heaven together!

*Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
* Particularities and petty sounds

* To cease! 2-Wast thou ordained, 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 turned to stone; and, while 'tis mine,
*It shall be stony. York not our old men spares;
*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 Eneas 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, and SOMERSET is killed.

Rich. So, lie thou there;

For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,

The castle in Saint Albans, Somerset

Hath made the wizard famous in his death.3

1 Premised is sent before their time.

2 To cease is to stop; a verb active.

3 The death of Somerset here accomplishes that equivocal prediction of Jourdain, the witch, in the first act.