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Enter York.
How now, my Lord? what, all a-foot ?

York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;
But match to match I have encountred him,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Ev'n of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.

Enter Clifford. War. Of one or both of us the time is come. York. Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other

chace, For I myself must hunt this deer to death.

War. Then nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day, [fight'st. It grieves my soul to leave thee unaffail'd.

[Exit Warwick. Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why dost

thou pause ? 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

esteein, 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. Addrefs thee instantly.

[Fight. Clif. La fin courrone des auvres. [Bies. York. Thus war hath giv'n thee peace, for thou

art still ; Peace with his soul, Heav'n, if it be thy will! [Exit.

Enter young Clifford. 7. 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 Heav'ns do make their minister, Throw in the frozen bofoms of our part Hot coals of vengeance. Let no soldier fly, He that is truly dedicate to war,

Hath no self-love ; for he that loves himself
Hathi wot ellentially, but by circumstance,
The name of valour.- let the vile world end,

[Seeing his dead father.
And the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heav'ı together:
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds
To ceale! Waft thou ordained, o dear father,
To lose thy youth in peace, and to atchieve
The silver livery of advised age ;
And in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus
To die in raffian battle ? Even at this fight
My heart is turn'd to Ytone ; and while "ris mine,
It shall be stony. York pot 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 inany gobbits will I cut it,
As wild Medea young Abfyrtus 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 I bear three upon my manly shoulders;
But then Æneas bare a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.

[Exit bearing off his father. Enter Richard Plantagenet and Somerset, to fight.

R. Plan. So, ly thou there.. [Somerset is killedo For underneaih an ale-house' paltry sign, The castle in St Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard * famous in his death. Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still :

• The death of Somerset here accomplishes that equivocal prediction given by Jordan the witch, concerning this Duke, which we met with.at the close of the frit

act of this play:

Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.

[Exit Richard Plantagenet. SC E'N E VI. Fight. Excursions. Enter King Henry, Queeri

' Margaret, and others. l. Mar. Away, my Lord, you are flow; for

fliame, away. K. Henry. Can we out-run the heav'ns ? Good

Marg'ret, stay.
l. 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 secure us
By what we can, which can no more but Ay.

[Alarm afar off.
If you be ta’en, we then shall 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 stop'd.

'Enter Clifford. Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief set, I would speak blasphemy, ere bid you fly, But fly you must; incurable discomfit Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts. Away, for your relief; and we will live To see their day, and them our fortune give. Away, my Lord, away!

[Exeunt. Alarm. Retreat. Enter York, Richard Plantagenet, Warwick, and Soldiers, with druni and colours. York. Of Salisbury, who can report of him?

Let him shun casiles;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains,

Than where castles, mounted, stand. e. the representation of a castle, mounted for a sigr.

Theobalde

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 loft.

R. Plan. 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.

Enter Salisbury. Sal. Now by my sword, well last thou. fought

to-day ;
By th’mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard.
God knows how long it is I have to live,
And it hath pleas'd him, that three times to day
You have defended me from imminent death.
-Well, Lords, we have not got that which we haves
'Tis not enough our foes are this time Aed,
Being opposites of such repairing nature.

York I know our safety is to follow them;
For, as I hear, the King is fied to London,
To call a present court of Parliament.
Let us puriue him ere the writs go.forth.
What says Lord Warwick, fhall we after them?

War. After them ! nay, before them if we can.
Now, by my hand, Lords, 'twas a glorious day !
St Alban's battle, von 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 befail! (Exeunte

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