York. I thank thee, Clifford: Say, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look: Clif. This is my king, York, I do not mistake; K. Hen. Ay, Clifford a bedlam and ambitious hu mour Makes him oppose himself against his king. Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey; Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve. Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons shall. Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here! 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, They may astonish these fell lurking curs; Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me. Drums. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY, with Forces. Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw, York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair, Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son!- O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty? The rightful heir to England's royal seat. K. Hen. Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me? 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. To reave the orphan of his patrimony, Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister. Clif. The first, I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. War. You were best to go to bed, and dream again, To keep thee from the tempest of the field. Clif. I am resolv'd to bear a greater storm, Than any thou canst conjure up to-day; 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 crest, 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, Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear, Rich. Fye! charity, for shame! speak not in spite, For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. Y. Clif. Foul stigmatick, that's more than thou canst tell. Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. [Exeunt severally. SCENE II.-Saint Albans. Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK. 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 a-foot? York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed; Enter CLIFFord. War. Of one or both of us the time is come. York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chace, 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 unassail'd. [Exit War. Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou pause? 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 oeuvres. [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; Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell, Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself, And the premised flames of the last day Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, |