Queen. This is no time for feeble lamentation!

Hence, hence, my Lord, tow'rds Berwick speed

away.

Edward and Richard, flush'd with victory,

With fiery eyes, that sparkle for revenge,

And bloody steel grasp'd in their wrathful hands,
Are at our backs. Hence! only flight can save us.
Somerset. Away for vengeance marches in their
train

Nay stay not to expostulate- -O fly!

K. Henry. Would I could fly to everlasting rest! [Exeunt.

Enter CLIFFORD wounded.

Clifford. Here burns my candle out, ev'n here it

dies.

While still it blaz'd, it gave King Henry light.

Ah, Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow,

More than my body's parting with my soul.
My love and fear had gained thee many friends;
But now my fall gives strength to haughty York.
The common people swarm like summer flies;
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun?
And who shines now, but Henry's enemy?
O Phœbus, hadst thou never giv❜n consent,
That Phaeton should check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning car had never scorch'd the earth.
And Henry, hadst thou govern'd like a king,
Giving no footing to the house of York,

They never then had sprung like summer flies.
I, and ten thousand in this hapless realm,
Had left no widow mourning for our deaths,
And thou this day hadst kept thy crown in peace.
But ah! complaints are fruitless-here I fall-
My wounds are past all cure-No way to fly.
I have not strength to rush among the foe,
And make these limbs a rampart for my friends.
The loss of blood-alas-has made me faint-

-come Richard,

[falls.

Come, York,

-Warwick,

and the rest

I stabb'd your father's bosoms,

-pierce my heart.

[Dies.

Flourish-Enter EDWARD, CLARENCE, RICHARD, WARWICK, and Attendants.

Edward. Thus far our fortune keeps, a glorious

course;

And crowns our heads with wreaths of victory.
Here pause we, Lords! ev'n in the enemy's camp.
Yet let some troops pursue the haughty Queen,
That led calm Henry, tho' he were a king,
As a proud sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Commands an argosy to stem the waves.
But who lies here, mark'd with a bloody rose?
We war not with the dead-the battle o'er,
Tho'
once our foe, let him be gently us’d.

Richard. Revoke that doom of mercy,for 'tis

Clifford,

Who, not contented to have lopp'd the branch,

In hewing Rutland, when his leaves were budding,
Set to the very root his murd'ring knife,

And slew our father :- -by this hand he fell;
Measure for measure have I answer'd still.

Edward. Is this that screech-owl fatal to our house, Whose notes brought death, aud deep calamity? Richard, His measure's full-for now the flowing blood

Stifles the villain, whole unstanched thirst

York and sweet Rutland could not satisfy.

Warwick.

Remove him hence-off with the

traitor's head,

And place it, where your honor'd father's stands.-
And now to London, with triumphant march,
To place the crown of England on your head!
From thence shall Warwick cut the sea to France,
To ask the King's fair sister for your Queen.
So shall you sinew both these lands together;
And having France your friend, you shall not dread
The scatter'd foe, that hopes to rise again.

Say, shall this marriage please our royal lord? Edward. E'en as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let it be.-

For on thy shoulder do I build my seat:
Warwick and happiness shall still be mine.

[Exeunt.

END OF THE SECOND ACT.

ACT III. SCENE I.

A chase in the North of England.

Enter SINKLO and HUMPHREY, with bows and

arrows.

Sinklo.

UNDER this thick-grown brake we'll shroud our

selves,

For thro' this lawn anon the deer will come:
And in this covert will we make our stand,

To cull the best and fattest of the deer.

Humphrey. I'll stay above the hill, so both may

shoot.

Sinklo. That must not be the noise of thy crossbow

Will scare the herd, and so my shot is lost.
Here stand we both, and aim we at the best.-
And, that the time may not appear too tedious,
I'll tell thee what befell me on a day,

In the

same place, where now we mean to stand. Humphrey. Here comes a man-let's stay till he be past.

Enter KING HENRY.

King Henry. From Scotland have I stol'n e'en

of pure love,

And thus disguis'd, to visit my own land.――
No, Harry, Harry :-'tis no land of thine.

Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
The balm wash'd off, with which thou wast anointed.
No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now;
No humble suitors press to ask relief—

O Heav'n, that one might read the book of fate,
And see the revolutions of the times

Make mountains level, and the continent,

Weary of solid firmness, melt itself

Into the sea; at other times to view
The beachy girdle of the ocean

Too wide for Neptune's waist :-how chances mock,
And changes fill the cup of alteration

With diff'rent liquors' O if this were seen,

The happiest youth, that saw his progress through, What dangers and what crosses to ensue ;

Would shut the book, and sit him down, and die. Sinklo. Ay, here's a deer, whose skin's a keeper's fee.

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

King Henry. I will embrace these sour adversities: Resign'd with patience to the will of Heav'n.

Humphrey. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.

Sinklo. Forbear awhile: we'll hear a little more.