And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset ?—
False king! why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? no, thou art not king;
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
- Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown;
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful, princely sceptre.
That gold must round engirt these brows of mine;
Whose smile and frown, like to Achilles' spear,
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up,
And with the same to act controlling laws.
Give place; by Heaven, thou shalt rule no more
O'er him whom Heaven created for thy ruler.
Som. O, monstrous traitor!-I arrest thee, York,
Of capital treason 'gainst the king and crown.
Obey, audacious traitor; kneel for grace.
York. Wouldst have me kneel? first let me ask of these, If they can brook I bow a knee to man.Sirrah, call in my sons to be my bail;
I know, ere they will have me go to ward,
They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.
Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain,
To say, if that the bastard boys of York
Shall be the surety for their traitor father.
York. O blood-bespotted Neapolitan,
Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge!
The sons of York, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their father's bail; and bane to those
That for my surety will refuse the boys.
Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENET, with Forces, at one side; at the other, with Forces also, Old CLIFFORD and his Son.
See, where they come; I'll warrant they'll make it good.
Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail.
Člif. Health and all happiness to my lord the king!
[Kneels.
York. I thank thee, Clifford. Say, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look:
We are thy sovereign, Clifford; kneel again;
For thy mistaking so, we pardon_thee.
Clif. This is my king, York; I do not mistake;
But thou mistak'st me much, to think I do.
To Bedlam with him! Is the man grown mad?
K. Hen. Ay, Clifford; a bedlam and ambitious humor Makes him oppose himself against his king.
Clif. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower,
And chop away that factious pate of his.
Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey;
His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.
York. Will you not, sons?
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.
Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death,
And manacle the bear-ward in their chains,
If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting-place.
Rich. Oft have I seen a hot, o'erweening cur
Run back and bite, because he was withheld;
Who, being suffered with the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapped his tail between his legs, and cried.
And such a piece of service will you do,
If you oppose yourselves to match lord Warwick.
Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul, indigested lump,
As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!
York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.
Clif. Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.
K. Hen. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
Old Salisbury,-shame to thy silver hair,
'Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son!-
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian,
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles?
O, where is faith? O, where is loyalty?
If it be banished from the frosty head,
Where shall it find a harbor in the earth?
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And shame thine honorable age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want'st 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 considered with myself
The title of this most renowned duke;
And in my conscience do repute his grace
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.
Who can be bound by any solemn vow
To do a murderous deed, to rob a man,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity,
To reave the orphan of his patrimony,
To wring the widow from her customed right;
And have no other reason for this wrong,
But that he was bound by a solemn oath?
Q. Mar. A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
K. Hen. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.
York. Call Buckingham and all the friends thou hast,
I am resolved for death or dignity.
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 resolved 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 chained to the ragged staff,
This day I'll wear aloft my burgonet,
(As on a mountain top the cedar shows,
That keeps his leaves in spite of any storm,
Even to affright thee with the view thereof.
Clif. And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear,
And tread it under foot with all contempt,
Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear.
Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father,
To quell the rebels, and their 'complices.
Rich. Fie charity, for shame! speak not in spite, For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night.
Y. Clif. Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell. Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. [Exeunt severally.
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 eyes 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 afoot?
York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;
But match to match I have encountered him,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.
War. Of one or both of us the time is come.
York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase,
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 unassailed.
[Exit WARWICK. Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou
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. [Dies.
Clif. La fin couronne les œuvres.
York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. Peace with his soul, Heaven, if it be thy will! [Exit.
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 valor.-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 ordained, 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 turned 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.
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.
Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET and SOMERSET, fighting, and
SOMERSET is killed.
Rich. So, lie thou there;
For underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,
The castle in Saint Albans, Somerset
Hath made the wizard famous in his death.
Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still;
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MAR
GARET, and others, retreating.
Q. Mar. Away, my lord! you are slow; for shame, away! VOL. III.-6
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