Witty and courteous, liberal, full of spirit.-
While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more,
But that I seek occasion how to rise;

And yet the king not privy to my drift, 'Nor any of the house of Lancaster ?

Enter a Messenger.

But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou in such post?

'Mess. The queen, with all the northern earls and lords,

Intend here to besiege you in your castle : 'She is hard by with twenty thousand men ; 'And therefore fortify your hold, my lord. * York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou, that we fear them?

'Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;~ 'My brother Montague shall post to London : * Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, * Whom we have left protectors of the king, * With powerful policy strengthen themselves, * And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths. * Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it

not:

* And thus most humbly I do take my leave.

[Exit.

Enter Sir JoHN and Sir HUGH MORTIMER.

York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles!

Of sound judgment.

You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;

The

army of the queen mean to besiege us. Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in the field.

"York. What, with five thousand men?

Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general; What should we fear?

[A March afar off.

Edw. I hear their drums; let's set our men in

order;

And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. York. Five men to twenty!-though the odds be great,

I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.

• Many a battle have I won in France,

When as the enemy hath been ten to one;

Why should I not now have the like success?

[Alarum. Exeunt.

SCENE III.

Plains near Sandal Castle.

Alarums: Excursions.

Enter RUTLAND, and his Tutor.

Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly to 'scape their hands! Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes!

Enter CLIFFORD, and Soldiers.

Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy

life.

As for the brat of this accursed duke,

Whose father slew my father, he shall die.

Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company.
Clif. Soldiers, away with him.

Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent

child,

'Lest thou be hated both of God and man.

[Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it

fear,

That makes him close his eyes?—I'll open them.
'Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch
'That trembles under his devouring paws:
And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey;
'And so he comes to rend his limbs asunder.-

Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die ;-
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath,
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my father's blood

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should

enter.

Rut. Then let my father's blood open it again;

He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine,

Were not revenge sufficient for me;

No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,
It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York

Is as a fury to torment my soul;

' And till I root out their accursed line, And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore

[Lifting his Hand.

Rut. O, let me pray before I take my death :To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me!

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me?

Clif. Thy father hath.

Rut.

But 'twas ere I was born.

Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me;

Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith God is just,-
He be as miserably slain as I.

Ah, let me live in prison all my days;

And when I give occasion of offence,

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Clif. No cause?

Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.

[CLIFFORD stabs him. Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ !8

[Dies.

Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet !
And this thy son's blood cleaving to my blade,
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,
Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.

[Exit.

7 Since.

Heaven grant this may be your greatest boast.

Ovid. Epist.

'York. The army of the queen hath got the field:

My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;

"And all my followers to the eager foe

'Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, 'Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves. 'My sons-God knows, what hath bechanced them: But this I know,—they have demean'd themselves Like men born to renown, by life, or death. 'Three times did Richard make a lane to me; And thrice cried,-Courage, father! fight it out! ! And full as oft came Edward to my side, With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt 'In blood of those that had encounter'd him: 'And when the hardiest warriors did retire, 'Richard cried,-Charge! and give no foot of ground!

' And cried,—A crown, or else a glorious tomb! A scepter, or an earthly sepulchré! With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas! 'We bodg'd' again; as I have seen a swan With bootless labour swim against the tide, And spend her strength with over-matching waves. [A short Alarum within.

i. e. We boggled, made bad, or bungling work of our attempt to rally.