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Clif. My soul and body on the action both!York. A dreadful lay!-address thee instantly. [Fight, and CLIFFORD falls.

Clif. La fin couronne les oeuvres.


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


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 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.





R. Plan. So, lie thou there;

[SOMERSET is killed.

For, underneath an ale-house' paltry sign,

The Castle in saint Alban's, Somerset

Hath made the wizard famous in his death.

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


Fight. Excursions. Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, and others.

Q. Mar. Away, my lord, you are slow; for shame, away!

K. Henry. Can we out-run the heavens? good Margaret, stay.

Q. Mar. What are you made of? you'll nor 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 offIf 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 negle&t) 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.

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!






Alarum. Retreat.


TAGENET, WARWICK, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colours.

York, Of Salisbury, who can report of him;
That winter lion, who, in rage, forgets
Aged contusions and all brush of time;
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,
Repairs him with occasion? this happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.

R. Plan. 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 today;

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, Being opposites of such repairing nature.


York. I know, our safety is to follow them;
For, as I hear, the king is fled 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 hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day :
Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York,
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!


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