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;
[Exit an Attendant.

I know, ere they will have me go to ward,
They'll pawn their swords fort my enfranchisement.
Q. MAR. Call hither Clifford; bid him come
[Exit BUCKINGHAM."

amain,

Το 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!

See, where they come; I'll warrant they'll make it good.

Q. MAR. And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail.

Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENET,

with Forces, at one side; at the other, with Forces also, old CLIFFORD and his Son.

CLIF. 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
humour

Makes him oppose himself against his king.

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 suffer'd with the bear's fell paw, Hath clapp'd 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 banish'd from the frosty head,
Where shall it find a harbour in the earth ?—
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And shame thine honourable age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want'st experience?
Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou hast it?

e Who, being suffer'd-] That is, who being unrestrained, unchecked. So in Act III. Sc. 2:

"Lest, being suffer'd in that harmful slumber," &c. And in "Henry VI." Part III. Act IV. Sc. 8:"A little fire is quickly trodden out,

Which being suffer'd, rivers cannot quench." Mr. Collier's annotator, from ignorance of the idiom, substitutes having for being; "and," Mr. C. remarks, "we may be confident, gives us the poet's language."

For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age.
SAL. My lord, I have consider'd 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 custom❜d 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 resolv'd for death or* dignity. CLIF. The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true. [again,

WAR. You were best to go to bed, and dream 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,

a

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
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.

But that 't is 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 œuvres. [Dies. YORK. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.

Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!

[Exit.

marked, as a criminal punishment, with a hot iron. To appreciate the application of this term to Richard, we must call to mind the cruel belief once prevalent, that personal deformity was a brand or stigma set by Nature on a being, to indicate a vicious and malignant disposition.

Enter Young CLIFFORD.

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 valour.-O, let the vile world end,
[Seeing his dead father.
And the premised flames of the last day
Knit heaven and earth together!
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds

To cease! Wast thou ordain'd, 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 turn'd to stone: and, while 't is 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;
[Taking up the body.

As did Eneas old Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;
But then Eneas bare a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine. [Exit.

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 Alban's, Somerset
Hath made the wizard famous in his death.-
Sword, hold thy temper: heart, be wrathful still:
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill. [Exit.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter KING HENRY, QUEEN MARGARET, and others, retreating.

Q. MAR. Away, my lord! you are slow: for
shame, away!

K. HEN. Can we outrun the heavens? Good
Margaret, stay.

Q. MAR. What are you made of? you'll nor
fight nor fly:

Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence,
To give the enemy way; and to secure us
By what we can, which can no more but fly.

[Alarum afar off. If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape (As well we may, if not through your neglect), We shall to London get; where you are lov'd, And where this breach, now in our fortunes made, May readily be stopp'd.

SCENE III.-Fields near Saint Alban's. Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter YORK, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, WARWICK, and Soldiers, with drum and colours.

YORK. Of Salisbury, who can report of him,-
That winter lion, who in rage forgets
Aged contusions and all brush of time;
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,
Repairs him with occasion? This happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.

RICH.
My noble father,
Three times to-day I holp him to his horse,
Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off,
Persuaded him from any further act:

But still, where danger was, still there I met him;
And, like rich hangings in a homely house,

So was his will in his old feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look where he comes.

:

YORK. I know our safety is to follow them; For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, To call a present court of parliament. Let us pursue him ere the writs go forth :What says lord Warwick? shall we after them? WAR. After them! Nay, before them, if we can. Now, by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day: Saint Alban's battle, won by famous York, Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.Sound drum and trumpets :-and to London all: And more such days as these to us befal! (1)

"But did you see old Salisbury?"

substitutes old for of.

[Exeunt.

(1) SCENE II.-With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch.] From Ryder's Foedera we find that on the ninth of May, 1432 (the 10th of Henry VI.), Margery Jourdemayn, John Virley, clerk, and friar John Ashwell, who had been confined on a charge of sorcery in the castle of Windsor, were conveyed by the Constable of the castle, Walter Hungerford, to the Council at Westminster, and were there delivered into the custody of the Lord Chancellor. The same day, upon finding securities for their good behaviour, they were discharged.

(2) SCENE IV.-All, away!] Hall's account of the arrest and trial of the Duchess and her confederates, is as follows:-"Thys yere (1442-3), dame Elyanour Cobham, wyfe to the sayd duke, was accused of treason, for that she, by sorcery and enchauntment, entended to destroy the kyng, to thentent to advaunce and promote her husbande to the croune: upon thys she was examined in sainct Stephens chapell, before the bishop of Canterbury, and there by examinacion convict and judged to do open penaunce, in

iii open places within the cytie of London, and after that adiudged to perpetuall prisone in the Isle of Man, under the kepyng of Sir Ihon Stanley, knyght. At the same season wer arrested as ayders and counsailers to the sayde duchesse, Thomas Southwel, prieste and chanon of saincte Stephens in Westmynster, Ihon Hum priest, Roger Bolyngbroke, a conyng nycromancier, and Margerie Iourdayne, surnamed the witche of Eye, to whose charge it was laied, that thei, at the request of the duchesse, had devised an image of waxe representyng the kyng, whiche by their sorcery, a litle and litle consumed, entendyng therby in conclusion to waist and destroy the kynges person, and so to bryng hym to death; for the which treison, they wer adjudged to dye, and so Margery Jor dayne was brent in smithfelde, and Roger Bolyngbroke was drawen and quartered at tiborne; takyng upon his death, that there was never no suche thyng by them ymagined; Ihon Hum had his pardon, and Southwel die l in the toure before execution."

(1) SCENE 1.

for flying at the brook,

I saw not better sport, these seven years' day.] Thomas Nash, (not the satirical author of "Pierce Pennilesse his Supplication,") in his "Quaternio, or a Fourefold Way to a Happie Life," 1633, p. 35, affords an animated picture of the sport of hawking at water-fowl :-" And to heare an Accipitrary relate againe, how he went forth in a cleare, calme, and Sun-shine Evening, about an houre before the Sunne did usually maske himselfe, unto the River, where finding of a Mallard, he whistled off his Faulcon, and how shee flew from him as if shee would never have turned head againe, yet presently upon a shoote came in, how then by degrees, by little and little, by flying about and about, she mounted so high, until she had lessened herselfe to the view of the beholder, to the shape of a Pigeon or Partridge, and had made the height of the Moone the place of her flight, how presently upon the landing of the fowle, shee came downe like a stone and enewed it, and suddenly got up againe, and suddenly upon a second landing came downe againe, and missing of it, in the downecome recovered it, beyond expectation, to the admiration of the beholder at a long flight."

(2) SCENE I.-Let them be whipped through every markettown, till they come to Berwick, from whence they came.] Shakespeare may have derived the incidents of the foregoing scene from a story related by Sir Thomas More as communicated to him by his father:-"I remember me that I have hard my father tell of a begger that, in Kyng Henry his daies the sixt, cam with his wife to Saint Albonis. And there was walking about the towne begging a five or six dayes before the kinges commynge thither, saienge that he was borne blinde and never sawe in hys

lyfe. And was warned in hys dreame that he shoulde come out of Berwyke, where he said he had ever dwelled, to seke saynt Albon, and that he had ben at his shryne, and had not bene holpen. And therfore he woulde go seke hym at some other place, for he had hard some say sins he came, that sainct Albonys body shold be at Colon, and indede such a contencion hath ther ben. But of troth, as

So

am surely informed, he lieth here at Saint Albonis, saving some reliques of him, which thei there shew shrined. But to tell you forth, whan the kyng was comen, and the towne full, sodainlye thys blind man at Saint Albonis shrine had his sight agayne, and a myracle solemply rongen, and te Deum songen, so that nothyng was talked of in al the towne but this myracle. happened it than that Duke Humfry of Glocester, a great wyse man and very well lerned, having great joy to se such a myracle, called the pore man unto hym. And first shewing hymselfe joyouse of Goddes glory so shewed in the gettinge of his sight, and exortinge hym to mekenes, and to none ascribing of any part the worship to himself, nor to be proued of the peoples prayse, which would call hym a good and a godly man therby. At last he loked well upon his eyen, and asked whyther he could never se nothing at al in al his life before. And whan as well his wyfe as himself affermed falsely no, than he loked advisedly upon his eien again, and said, I beleve you very wel, for me thinketh that ye cannot se well yet. Yes, sir, quoth he, I thanke God, and his holy marter, I can se nowe as well as any man. Ye can, quoth the duke; what colour is my gowne? Than anone the beggar tolde him. What coloure, quoth he, is this mans gowne? He told him also, and so forth, without any sticking, he told him the names of al the colours that coulde bee shewed him. And whan my lord saw that, he bad him walke faytoure, and made him be set openly in the stockes. For though