Enter York. War. How now, my noble lord? what all a-foot? York. The deadly-handed Clifford flew my Steed; But match to match I have encountred him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Ev'n of the bonny beaft he lov'd fo well. Enter Clifford, War. Of one or both of us the time is come. York. Hold, Warwick: feek thee out fome other chace, For I myself must hunt this deer to death. War. Then nobly, York; 'tis for a Crown thou fight'ft: As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to day, It grieves my foul to leave thee unaffail'd. [Exit War. Clif. What feeft thou in me, York? why doft thou pause? York. With thy brave Bearing fhould I be in love, But that thou art fo faft mine enemy. Clif. Nor fhould thy Prowess want praise and esteem, But that 'tis fhewn ignobly, and in treason. York. So let it help me now against thy fword, As I in Juftice and true Right express it. Clif. My foul and body on the action both!-York A dreadful lay, addrefs thee inftantly. [Fight, Clif. La fin couronne les œuvres. [Dies. York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art ftill; Peace with his foul, heav'n, if it be thy will. [Exit. Enter young Clifford. r. Clif. Shame and confufion! all is on the rout: Fear frames diforder; and disorder wounds, Where it should guard. O war! thou fon of hell, Whom angry heav'ns do make their minifter, Throw Throw in the frozen bofoms of our part Hath no felf-love; for he, that loves himself, Now let the general trumpet blow his blast, To cease! Waft thou ordained, O dear father, And in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus As wild Medea young Abfyrtus did. Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's Houfe: So I bear thee upon my manly fhoulders; Nothing fo heavy as thefe woes of mine. [Exit, bearing off his Father. 2 And the premifed flames-] Premifed, for fent before their time. The fenfe is, let the flames referved for the last day be fent now. Enter Enter Richard Plantagenet and Somerset, to fight. R. Plan. So, lye thou there: [Somerset is kill'd. For underneath an ale-house' paltry Sign, The Castle in St. Albans, Somerfet Hath made the Wizard famous in his death; Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still: Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill. [Exit Richard Plantagenet. Fight. Excurfions. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and others. Q. Mar. Away, my lord, you are flow; for shame, away. K. Henry. Can we out-run the heav'ns! good Margret, stay. Q. Mar. What are you made of? you'll not fight, nor fly : Now is it manhood, wisdom and defence, To give the enemy way, and to fecure us [Alarum afar off. If you be ta'en, we then fhould fee the bottom Of all our fortunes; but if we haply fcape, (As well we may, if not through your neglect,) We fhall to London get, where you are lov'd; And where this breach, now in our fortunes made, May readily be stopt. Enter Clifford. Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief set, I would speak blafphemy, ere bid you fly; But fly you muft: incurable difcomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present party. 3 of all our prefent PARTS.] We thould read, PARTY. Away, Away, for your relief; and we will live [Exeunt. Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Richard Plantagenet, R. Plan. My noble father, Three times to day I holp him to his horse, But ftill, where danger was, ftill there I met him; But noble as he is, look, where he comes. Enter Salisbury. Sal. Now, by my fword, well haft thou fought to day; By th' Mafs, fo did we all. I thank you, Richard. And it hath pleas'd him, that three times to day 4 -and all BRUSH of time ;] We fhould read, BRUISE. Let Let us purfue him, ere the Writs go forth. Sound drum and trumpets, and to London all, THE |