R. Plan. Oft have I seen a hot o'er-weening cur
Run back and bite, because he was with-held;
Who, being fuffer'd with the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapt his tail betwixt his legs and cry'd:
And fuch a piece of fervice will you do,
If you oppose your felves to match lord Warwick.
Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump,
As crooked in thy manners, as thy fhape.

York. Nay, we fhall heat you thorowly anon. Clif. Take heed, left by your heat you burn your felves.

K. Henry. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to

bow;

Old Salisbury, fhame to thy filver hair,

Thou mad mif leader of thy brain fick fon,

What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian,
And feek for forrow with thy fpectacles?
Oh, where is faith? oh, where is loyalty?
If it be banish'd from the frofty 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'It 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 confider'd with
The Title of this most renowned Duke;
And in my conscience do repute his Grace
The rightful heir to England's royal Seat.

my

felf

K. Henry. Haft thou not fworn allegiance unto me?
Sal. I have.

K. Henry. Canft thou dispense with heav'n for fuch
an oath ?

Sal It is great fin to fwear unto a fin;
But greater fin to keep a finful oath :
Who can be bound by any folemn vow
To do a murd'rous deed, to rob a man,
To force a spotlefs virgin's chaflity,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony,

Το

To wring the widow from her cuftom'd right,
And have no other reafon for his wrong,
But that he was bound by a folemn oath?

Q. Mar. A fubtle traitor needs no fophifter.

K. Henry. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.
York. Call Buckingham and all the friends thou haft,
I am refolv'd for death or dignity.

Old Clif. The firft I warrant thee; if dreams prove

true.

War. You were beft go to bed and dream again,
To keep thee from the tempeft of the field.
Old Clif. I am refolv'd to bear a greater storm
Than any thou canft conjure up to day:
And that I'll write upon thy Burgonet,
Might I but know thee by thy Houfe's badge.

War. Now by my father's Badge, old Nevil's Creft,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged staff,
This day I'll wear aloft my Burgonet,
(As on a mountain-top the cedar fhews,
That keeps his leaves in fpight of any storm,)
Ev'n to affright thee with the view thereof.

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

Y. Clif. And fo to Arms, victorious noble father,
To quell the rebels and their complices.

R. Plan. Fie, charity for fhame, speak not in fpight,
For you fhall fup with Jefu Chrift to night.

Y. Clif. Foul ftigmatick, that's more than thou canst
tell.

R. Plan. If not in heav'n, you'll furely fup in hell.
[Exeunt, feverally.
SCENE changes to a Field of Battle at St.

War.

CLA

Albans.

Enter Warwick.

LIFFORD of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls; And if thou doft not hide thee from the bear, (Now when the angry trumpet founds alarum,

And

And dying mens' cries do fill the empty air,)
Clifford, I fay, come forth and fight with me;
Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Warwick is hoarfe with calling thee to arms.

Enter York.

War. How now, my noble lord? what all a-foot? York. The deadly-handed Clifford flew my Steed: But match to match I have encountred him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Ev'n of the bonny beast he lov'd fo well.

Enter Clifford.

War. Of one or both of us the time is come.

York. Hold, Warwick: feek thee out fome other chace,

For I myself muft hunt this deer to death.

War. Then nobly, York; 'tis for a Crown thou fight'ft:

As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to day,

It grieves my foul to leave thee unaffail'd.

[Exit War. Clif. What feeft thou in me, York? why doft thou paufe?

York. With thy brave Bearing should I be in love, But that thou art fo faft mine enemy.

Clif. Nor fhould thy Prowefs want praise and efteem,

But that 'tis fhewn ignobly, and in treafon.

York. So let it help me now against thy fword,

As I in Juftice and true Right express it.

Clif. My foul and body on the action both!

York. A dreadful lay, address thee inftantly.
Clif. La fin couronne les ceuvres.

[Fight.

[Dies.

ftill;

York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art

Peace with his foul, heav'n, if it be thy will! [Exit. Enter young Clifford.

r. Clif. Shame and confufion! all is on the rout: Fear frames disorder; and disorder wounds, Where it should guard. O war! thou son of hell, Whom angry heav'ns do make their minister,

Throw

Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Richard Plantagenet,

Warwick, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colours.

York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him?
That winter lion, who in rage forgets
Aged contufions and all bruth of time;
And, like a Gallant in the brow of youth,
Repairs him with occafion. This happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be left.

R. Plan. My noble father,

Three times to day I help him to his horfe,
Three times beftrid him; thrice I led him off,
Perfuaded him from any further act:

But ftill, where danger was, ftill there I met him
And, like rich Hangings in an homely houfe,
So was his Will in his old feeble body.

But noble as he is, look, where he comes.
Enter Salisbury.

Sal. Now, by my fword, well haft thou fought to day;
By th' Mafs, fo 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,
Being oppofites of fuch repairing nature.

York. I know, our fafety is to follow them;
For, as I hear, the King is fled to London,
To call a prefent Court of Parliament.
Let us purfue him, ere the Writs go forth.
What fays lord Warwick, fhall we after them?
War. After them! nay, before them, if we can.
Now by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day.
St. Alban's battel, won by famous York,
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.
Sound drum and trumpets, and to London all,
And more-fuch days as thefe to us befall!

[Exeunt.

THE

The Castle in St. Albans, Somerset

Hath made the Wizard famous in his death;

Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still:
Priefts pray for enemies, but Princes kill.

[Exit Richard Plantagenet.

Fight. Excurfions. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret,

and others.

Q. Mar. Away, my lord, you are flow; for fhame,

away.

K. Henry. Can we out-run the heav'ns! good Margret,

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 fecure us

By what we can, which can no more but fly.

If

[Alarum afar off

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 fhall to London get, where you are lov'd; And where this breach, now in our fortunes made, May readily be stopt.

Enter Clifford.

Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief fet,
I would speak blafphemy, ere bid you fly;
But fly you muft: incurable discomfit

Reigns in the hearts of all our prefent parts.
Away, for
your relief: and we will live
To fee their day, and them our fortune give.
Away, my lord, away!

[Exeunt.

The Death of Somerfet here accomplishes that equivocal Prediction given by Jordan, the Witch, concerning this Duke; which we met with at the Close of the first Act of this Play: Let bim fhun Castles;

Safer fhail be be upon the fandy Plains,

Than where Castles, mounted, and.

i. e. the Representation of a Castle, mounted for a Sign.

Alarum.