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Was never subject long'd to be a king, As I do long and wish to be a subject. Enter Buckingham and Clifford. Buck. Health, and glad tidings, to your majesty! [Cade, surpris'd? K. Hen. Why, Buckingham, is the traitor, Or is he but retir'd to make him strong? Enter, below, a great number of Cade's Followers, with halters about their necks.

Cliff. He's fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield;

And humbly thus, with halters on their necks,
Expect your highness' doom, of life or death.
K. Hen. Then, heaven, set ope thy everlasting

To entertain my vows of thanks and praise !-
Soldiers, this day have you redeem'd your lives,
And show'd how well you love your prince and
Continue still in this so good a mind, [country:
And Henry, though he be unfortunate,
Assure yourselves, will never be unkind:
And so, with thanks, and pardon to you all,
I do dismiss you to your several countries.

All. God save the king! God save the king!
Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Please it your grace to be advértised,
The duke of York is newly come from Ireland:
And with a puissant and a mighty power,
Of gallowglasses, and stout Kernes,

Is marching hitherward in proud array;
And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
His arms are only to remove from thee
The duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor.
K. Hen. Thus stands my state, 'twixt Cade
and York distress'd;

Like to a ship, that, having 'scap'd a tempest,
Is straitway calm'd, and boarded with a pirate:
But now is Cade driven back, his men dispers'd;
And now is York in arms, to second him.-
I pray thee, Buckingham, go forth and meet him,
And ask him, what's the reason of these arms.
Tell him, I'll send duke Edmund to the Tower;
And, Somerset, we will commit thee thither,
Until his army be dismiss'd from him.
Som. My lord,

I'll yield myself to prison willingly,
Or unto death, to do my country good.

K. Hen. In any case, be not too rough in terms; For he is fierce, and cannot brook hard language. Buck. I will, my lord; and doubt not so to deal,

As all things shall redound unto your good.

K. Hen. Come, wife, let's in, and learn to govern better;

For yet may England curse my wretched reign. [exeunt.

or pick a sallet another while, which is not amiss to cool a man's stomach this hot weather. And, I think, this word sallet was born to do me good: for, many a time, but for a sallet, my brain-pan had been cleft with a brown bill; and, many a time, when I have been dry, and bravely marching, it hath served me instead of a quart-pot to drink in; and now the word sallet must serve me

to feed on.

Enter Cade.

Cade. Fie on ambition! fie on myself; that have a sword, and yet am ready to famish! These five days have I hid me in these woods; and durst not peep out, for all the country is lay'd for me; but now am I so hungry, that if I might have a lease of my life for a thousand years, I conld stay no longer. Wherefore, on a brick-wall have I alimbed into this garden; to see if I can eat grass,

Enter Iden, with Servants.

Iden. Lord, who would live turmoiled in the And may enjoy such quiet walks as these? [court, This small inheritance, my father left me, Contenteth me, and is worth a monarchy. I seek not to wax great by others' waning; Or gather wealth, I care not with what envy; Sufficeth, that I have maintains my state, And sends the poor well pleased from my gate.

Cade. Here's the lord of the soil come to seize me for a stray, for entering his fee-simple without leave. Ah, villain, thou wilt betray me, and get a thousand crowns of the king, for carrying my head to him; but I'll make thee eat iron like an ostrich, and swallow my sword like a great pin, ere thou and I part. [be,

Iden. Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou I know thee not; why then should I betray thee? Is't not enough, to break into my garden, And, like a thief, to come to rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner, But thou wilt brave me with these saucy terms

Cade. Brave thee? ay, the best blood that ever was broached, and beard thee too. Look on me well: I have eat no meat these five days; yet, come thou and thy five men, and if I do not leave you all as dead as a door-nail, I pray God, I may never eat grass more.

Iden. Nay, it shall ne'er be said, while England stands,

That ander Iden, an esquire of Kent,
Took de o combat a poor famish'd man.
Oppose thy steaufast-gazing eyes to mine,
See if thou canst outface 'me with thy looks.
Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser ;
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist;
Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon;
My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast;
And if mine arm be heaved in the air,
Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.
As for more words, whose greatness answers words,
Let this my sword report what speech forbears.

Cade. By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard.-Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech God, on my knees, thou mayest be turned to hobnails. [they fight. Cade falls,] O, I am slain! famine, and no other, hath slain me: let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is fled. [strous traitor?

Iden. Is't Cade that I have slain, that monSword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed, And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead:

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Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point;
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
To emblaze the honour that thy master got.

Cade. Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy victory: Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for I, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. Iden. How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.




The King's Camp on one side. On the other, enter York attended, with drum and colours; his Forces at some distance.

York. From Ireland thus comes York, to claim
his right,

And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head:
Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright,
To entertain great England's lawful king.
Ah, sancta majestas! who would not buy thee
Let them obey, that know not how to rule; [dear?
This hand was made to handle nought but gold:
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a sword or sceptre balance it.
A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul;

On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France.
Enter Buckingham.
Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb
The king hath sent him, sure: I must dissemble.
Buck. York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee
York. Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy
Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?

Buck. A messenger, from Henry, our dread To know the reason of these arms in peace; [liege, Or why, thou-being a subject as I am,Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn, Should'st raise so great a power without his leave, Or dare to bring thy force so near the court. York. Scarce can I speak, my choler [flint, O, I could hew up rocks and fight with I am so angry, at these abject terms: And now, like Ajax Telamonius, On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury! I am far better born than is the king; More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts:

is so great.


But I must make fair weather yet awhile,
Till Henry be more weak, and I more

O Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me,
That I have given no answer all this while;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The cause why I have brought this army hither,
Is to remove proud Somerset from the king,
Seditious to his grace, and to the state.

Buck. That is too much presumption on thy
But if thy arms be to no other end, [part:
The king hath yielded unto thy demand;
The duke of Somerset is in the Tower.

Die, damned wretch, the curse of her that bare thee!

And as I thrust thy body in with my sword,
So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell.
Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels
Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave,
And there cut off thy most ungracious head;
Which I will bear in triumph to the king,
Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.
[exit, dragging out the body,

York. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner. Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.

York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my

Soldiers, I thank you all: disperse yourselves;
Meet me to-morrow in St. George's field,
You shall have pay, and every thing you wish.-
And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest son,-nay, all my sons,
As pledges of my fealty and love,
I'll send them all as willing as I live;
Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have
Is his to use, so Somerset may die.

Buck. York, I commend this kind submission.
We twain will go into his highness' tent.
Enter King Henry, attended.

K. Hen. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us,

That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?
York. In all submission and humility,
York doth present himself unto your highness.
K. Hen. Then what intend these forces thou
dost bring?

York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence; And fight against that monstrous rebel, Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited.

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Enter Iden, with Cade's head.

Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean condition, May pass into the presence of a king, Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head, The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. K. Hen. The head of Cade?-Great God, how jest art thou!

O let me view his visage, being dead,

That living wrought me such exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew Iden. I was, an't like your majesty. [him? K. Hen. How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree?

Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name; A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his king. [amiss Buck. So please it you, my lord, twere not He were created knight for his good service K. Hen. Iden kneel down, [he kneels.] Rise up a knight.

We give thee for reward a thousand marks; And will, that thou henceforth attend on us. Iden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty, And never live but true unto his liege!

K. Hen. See, Buckingham! Somerset comes with the queen;

Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.
Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset.
Q. Mur. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide
his head,

But boldly stand, and front him to his face.

York. How now! Is Somerset at liberty? Then, York, unloose thy long-imprison'd thoughts, And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart. Shall I endure the sight of Somerset ?—

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,

False king! why hast thou broken faith with me. They may astonish these fell lurking curs;
Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me.
Drums. Enter Warwick and Salisbury, with

Cliff. 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.

Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? no, thou art not king;
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not, rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown;
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely sceptre.
That gold must round engirt these brows of mine;
Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear,
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up,
And with the same to act controlling laws.
Give place; by heaven, thou shalt rule no more
O'er him, whom heaven created for thy ruler.

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,

Som. O monstrous traitor!— Iarrest thee, York,
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown:
Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace.

If you oppose yourselves to match lord Warwick.
Cliff Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested
As crooked in thy manners as thy shape! [lump,
York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.
Cliff. Take heed, lest by your heat you buru

York. Would'st have me kneel? first let me
ask of these,

If they can brook I bow a knee to man.—
Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail;

[exit an Attendant. I know, ere they will have me go to ward, They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchise[amain.


Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford; bid him come To say, if that the bastard boys of York Shall be the surety for their traitor father. York. O blood-bespotted Neapolitan, Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge ! The sons of York, thy betters in their birth, Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those That for my surety will refuse the boys. Enter Edward and Richard Plantagenet, with Forces, at one side; at the other, with Forces also, Old Clifford and his Son. See, where they come; I'll warrant, they'll make it good. [bail. Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny their Cliff. Health and happiness to my lord the king! [kneels. York. I thank thee, Clifford; say, what news with thee?

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Nay, do not fright us with an angry look:
We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again;
For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.

Cliff. This is my king, York, I do not mistake;
But thou mistak'st me much, to think I do:-
To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad?
K. Hen. Ay, Clifford ; a bedlam and ambitious

Makes him oppose himself against his king.

Cliff. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his.

Q. Mur. 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
Cliff. Why, what a brood of traitors have we

K. Hen. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?

Old Salisbury,-shame to thy silver hair,
Thou mad misleader of thy brainsick 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 of England's royal seat.

K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto
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
[thou hast,
York. Call Buckingham, and all the friends
I am resolv'd for death, or dignity.



Cliff. The first, I warrant thee, if dreams prove [again, War. You were best to go to bed, and dream To keep thee from the tempest of the field.

Cliff. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm, Than any thou canst conjure up to-day;

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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

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.

Cliff. And from thy burgouet I'll rend thy bear, And tread it under foot with all contempt, Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear.

Y. Cliff. And so to arms, victorious father, To quell the rebels, and their 'complices. [spite, Rich. Fie! charity, for shame! speak not in For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.

canst tell.

Y. Cliff. Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou [hell. Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in [exeunt severally.

SCENE II. ST. ALBAN'S. Alarums: excursions. Enter Warwick. War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, [calls! 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 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 thou out some other chace,

For I myself must hunt this deer to death.

War. Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, [fight'st.It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. [exit Warwick.

Cliff. What seest thou in me, York? Why dost thou pause? [love, York. With thy brave bearing should I be in But that thou art so fast mine enemy. [esteem, Cliff. Nor should thy prowess want praise and 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!

Cliff. My soul and body on the action both! York. A dreadful lay!-address thee instantly. [they fight, and Clifford falls. Cliff. La fin couronne les œuvres. [dics. 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. Cliff. Shame and confusion! all is on the Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds [rout; 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 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!
[Margaret, stay.
K. Hen. Can we outrun the heavens? goo!
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 may 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.

Enter Young Clifford.

Y. Cliff. But that my heart's 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!

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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 death..
Well, lords, we have not got that which we have;
'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, e)
Being opposites of such repairing nature. Di pa

York. I know, our safety is to follow them
For, as I hear, the king is filed to London,
To call a present court of parliament.
Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth :-
What says lord Warwick? shall we after them?

War. After them! nay, before them, if we can. Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day: St. Albans' battle, won by famous York, oy and Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.Sound, drums and trumpets;-and to London all: And more such days as these to us befall!


11 3.

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