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SCENE II. Saint Albans.
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. o 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
? • 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 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 auvres. [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 valor.-0, 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,
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.”
* 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! 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 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, Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still ; * Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit.
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.
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 Mar
garet, 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 loved ; * And where this breach, now in our fortunes made, * May readily be stopped.
Enter Young CLIFFORD. * Y. Clif. 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!
1 Parts may stand for parties; it may be also an error for party.
SCENE III. Fields near Saint Albans.
Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter York, Rich
ARD PLANTAGENET, Warwick, and Soldiers, with drum and colors.
· York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him; * That winter lion, who, in rage, forgets Aged contusions and all brush of time ;1
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth, 2 * Repairs him with occasion ? This happy day * Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, * If Salisbury be lost. Rich.
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 further 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 pleased him that three times to-day • You have defended me from imminent death. Well
, lords, we have not got that which we have ; 3 * 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature.
1 Warburton would substitute “all bruise of time;" but, as Steevens observes, " the brush of time” is the gradual detrition of time.
2 i. e. the height of youth ; the brow of a hill is its summit. 3 i. e. we have not secured that which we have acquired.