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 by 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.

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"Doubt of the like success. I am resolv'd.

"Come, let us go.

"Edw. Let us march away. I hear their drums."

Malone.

his Tutor.] A priest called Sir Robert Aspall, Hall. Henry VI, fol. 99. Ritson.

4 Ah, whither &c.] This scene in the old play opens with these lines:

"Tutor. Oh, fly my lord, let's leave the castle, "And fly to Wakefield straight." Malone.

5 Whose father -] i. e. the father of which brat, namely the

Duke of York. Malone.

6 is he dead already? Or, is it fear,

That makes him close his eyes?] This circumstance is taken from Hall: "Whilst this battail was in fighting, a prieste called Sir Robbert Aspall, chappelaine and schole-master to the yong erle of Rutlande, ii sonne to the above named duke of Yorke, scarce of the age of xii yeres, a faire gentleman, and a maydenlike person, perceyving that flight was more safe-gard than tarrying, bothe for hym and his master, secretly conveyd therle out of the felde, by the lord Cliffordes bande, toward the towne ; but or he could entre into a house, he was by the sayd Lord Clifford espied, folowed, and taken, and by reson of his apparell, demaunded what he was. The yong gentleman dismayed, had not a word to speake, but kneled on his knees, imploring mercy, and desiring grace, both with holding up his handes, and making dolorous countenance, for his speache was gone for feare." Malone.

• Rut. So looks the pent-up lion' o'er the wretch < That trembles under his devouring paws: :8 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.3

7 So looks the pent-up lion] That is, The lion that hath been long confined without food, and is let out to devour a man condemned. Johnson.

devouring paws:] Surely the epithet devouring, which might well have characterised the whole animal, is oddly bestow. ed on his paws Steevens.

9 The sight of any of the house of York

Is as a fury &c.] In Romeo and Juliet the same idea is expressed in humbler language: "A dog of the house of Montague moves me." Steevens.

1 But 'twas ere I was born.] Rutland is under a mistake. The battle of of St Albans, in which old Clifford was slain, happened in 1455; that of Wakefield in 1460. He appears to have been at this time about seventeen years old. Ritson.

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.

[CLIF. stabs him. Rut. Dii faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ !2 Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet!

And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade,
Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood,

[Dies.

Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both. [Exit.

York. The army of the queen hath got the field: ( My uncles both are slain in rescuing me ;3 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

The author of the original play appears to have been as incorrect in his chronology as Shakspeare. Rutland was born, I believe, in 1443; according to Hall, in 1448; and Clifford's father was killed at the battle of St. Albans, in 1455. Consequently Rutland was then at least seven years old; more probably twelve. The same observation has been made by an anonymous writer.

Malone.

2 Dii faciant, &c.] This line is in Ovid's Epistle from Phillis to Demophoon. I find the same quotation in Have with you to Saffron Walden, or Gabriel Harvey's Hunt is up, &c. 1596. Steevens.

3 My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;] These were two bastard uncles by the mother's side, Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. See Grafton's Chronicle, p. 649. Percy.

"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 sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre !

With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas! 'We bodg'd again; 5+ 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.

With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt

In blood of those-] So, in King Henry V:

"With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur." Steevens.

5 We bodg'd again;] I find bodgery used by Nashe in his Apologie of Pierce Penniless, 1593, for botchery: "Do you know your own misbegotten bodgery?" To bodge might therefore mean, (as to botch does now) to do a thing imperfectly and awkwardly; and thence to fail or miscarry in an attempt. Cole, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders-" To botch or bungle, opus corrumpere, disperdere."

I suspect, however, with Dr. Johnson, that we should readWe budg'd again. "To budge" Cole renders, pedem referre, to retreat the precise sense required here So, Coriolanus, speaking of his army who had fled from their adversaries:

"The mouse ne'er shunn'd the cat, as they did budge
"From rascals worse than they." Malone.

I believe that we bodg'd, only means, we boggled, made bad or bungling work of our attempt to rally. A low unskilful tailor is often called a botcher. Steevens.

With this we charg'd again: but, out, alas!

We bodg'd again:] I cannot believe the word bodg'd, as connected with what precedes, or follows, means either budg'd or botch'd, but forced out, or burst. It appears the field was bravely contested, but the superior force of the enemy broke through, or beat back the partizans of York. The sense will be clearly understood, if read thus-With this we charged again, but we, alas! again bodg'd out; i e. being unable to withstand the enemy, our line, or part of our line, was forced out, jutted out, or bulg'd out. The passage in itself is not obscure, but rendered so by the attempt of the commentators to explain. They first destroy the connexion, which exists between the words, but, out, alas! with we bodg'd again; and then endeavour to elucidate the words, we bodg'd again, as forming a distinct sentence. They must have supposed the words but, out, alas! an interjection, as, "out on thee!" which supposition is evidently erroneous, as the word, Alas! is here, as in most other instances, a parenthetical exclamation. Am. Ed.

'Ah, hark! the fatal followers do pursue;
'And I am faint, and cannot fly their fury:

• And, were I strong, I would not shun their fury:
The sands are number'd, that make up my life;
"Here must I stay, and here my life must end.
Enter Queen MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBER-
LAND, and Soldiers.

Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumberland,-
I dare your quenchless fury to more rage;
I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

North. Yield to our mercy proud Plantagenet.
Clif. Ay, to such mercy, as his ruthless arm,
With downright payment, show'd unto my father.
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.

York. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth • A bird that will revenge upon you all:

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And, in that hope, I throw mine eyes to heaven, Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.

Why come you not? what! multitudes, and fear? Clif. So cowards fight, when they can fly no further; So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives, Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.

York. O, Clifford, but bethink thee once again,
And in thy thought o'er-run my former time:

* And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face;
And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with cowardice,
Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this.
Clif. I will not bandy with thee word for word;
But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one. [Draws.
Q. Mar. Hold, valiant Clifford ! for a thousand causes,
I would prolong awhile the traitor's life :-
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumberland.
North. Hold, Clifford; do not honour him so much,
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:
What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
For one to thrust his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn him with his foot away?

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noontide prick.] Or, noontide point on the dial. Johnson. The same phrase occurs in Romeo and Juliet, Act II, sc. iv. Steevens.