K. Hen. Ay, Clifford; a bedlam and ambitious humour

Makes him oppose himself against his king. Clif. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his.

Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey; His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. York. Will you not, sons?

Edw. Ay, noble Father, if our words will serve. Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons shall.

Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here!

York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so; I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor.Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, That, with the very shaking of their chains, They may astonish these fell lurking curs; Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me. Drums. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY, with Forces. +

Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death,

And manacle the bearward in their chains,
If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place.
Rich. Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur
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 War-
wick.

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 deathbed play the ruf

fian,

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 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 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.

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 under foot with all contempt, Despight the bearward that protects the bear. Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father, To quell the rebels, and their 'complices. Rich. Fye! charity, for shame! speak not in spite,

For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. Y. Clif. Foul stigmatick, that's more than thou canst tell.

Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in [Exeunt severally.

hell.

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 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.

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 unassail'd. [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.

Clif. Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,

But that 'tis shown ignobly, and in treason.
York. So let it belp me now against thy sword,
As I in justice and true right express it!
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.
York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for
thou art still.

Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!

Enter young CLIFFORD.

[Exit.

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.-O, let the vile world end.
[Seeing his dead father.
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 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 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, 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.-
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 not 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.