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Queen. Off with his head and set it on York gatęs ; So York may overlook the town of York. (Exeunt.


Near Mortimer's Cross in Wales. A March. Enter Edward, Richard, and their power.


Wonder, how our princely father 'scap'd,

Or whether he be "scap'd away, of no, From Clifford's and Northumberland's pursuit ? Had he been ta'en, we should have heard the news ; Had he been lain, we should have heard the news , Or had he 'scap'd, methinks, we should have heard The happy tidings of his good escape. How fares my brother? why is he fo sad?

Rich. I cannot joy, until I be resolvid Where our right valiant father is become. I saw him in the battle range about ; And watch'd him, how he singled Clifford forth ; Methought, he bore him in the thickest troop, As doth a Lion in a herd of Neat ; Or as a bear, encompass'd round with dogs, Who having pinch'd a few, and made them cry, The rest stand all aloof, and bark at him. So fared our father with his enemies, So Aed his enemies my warlike father ; Methinks, 'tis prize enough to be his son. See, how the morning opes her gołcien gates, s Methinks 'ris PRIZE enough I believe prize is the right

to be bis Jon.] The old quare word. Richard's sense is, though to reads PRIDE, which is right, we have missed the prize for for ambition. i. e. We need not which we fought, we have yet aim at any higher glory than this. an honour left that may conWARBURTON.


tent us.

. And takes her farewel of the glorious fun; How well resembles it the prime of youth, Trim'd like a yonker prancing to his love ?

Edw. Dazzle mine eyes? or do I see three suns?

Rich. Three glorious suns, each one a perfect sun; Not separated with the racking clouds, But sever'd in a pale clear-shining sky. See, see, they join, embrace and seem to kiss, As if they vow'd some league inviolable ; Now are they but one lamp, one light, one sun. In this the heaven figures fome event, Edw. 'Tis wondrous itrange, the like yet never

heard of.
I think, it cites us, brother, to the field;
That we the fons of brave Plantagenet,
Each one already? blazing by our meeds,
Should, notwithstanding, join our lights together,
And over-shine the earth, as this the world.
Whate'er it bodes, henceforward will I bear
Upon my target three fair shining suns.
Rich. Nay, bear three daughters.---By your leave;

I speak it,
You love the breeder better than the male.

Enter a Messenger.

But what art thou, whose heavy looks foretel
Some dreadful story hanging on thy tongue?

Mes. Ah! one that was a woful looker on,
When as the noble Duke of York was Nain;
Your princely father, and my loving Lord.

6 And takes ber fare vel of the luftrious and thining by the ar.

glorious fun.] Aurora takes morial enfigns granted us as for a time her farewel of the sun, meeds of our great exploits. when she dismisses him to his di It might be plausibly read, urnal course.

Blazing by our deeds. ? Blazing by our meeds.] Il


Edw. *Oh, speak no more! for I have heard fod

inuch. Rich Say, how he died; for I will hear it all.

Mes. Environed he was with many foes, And stood against them as the hope of Troy Against the Greeks that would have entred Troy. But Hercules himself must yield to odds ; And many stroaks, though wich a little ax, Hew down and fell the hardest-timber'd oak. By many hands your father was subdu'd, But only Naughter'd by the ireful arm Of unrelenting Clifford and the Queen ; Who crown'd the gracious duke in high despight; Laugh'd in his face ; and, when with grief he wept, The ruthless Queen gave him to dry his cheek, A napkin steeped in the harmless blood Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford Nain : And, after many scorns, many foul taunts, They took his head, and on the Gates of York They set the same; and there it doth remain The saddest spectacle that e'er I view'd.

Edw. Sweet Duke of York, our prop to lean upon, Now thou art gone, we have no staff, no stay. Oh Clifford, boist'rous Clifford! thou hast Nain The power of Europe for his chivalry, And treacherously haft thou vanquilh'd him ; For, hand to hand, he would have vanquilh'd thee. Now my soul's palace is become a prison : Ah, would she break from hence, thać this


body Might in the ground be clofed up in reft! For never henceforth shall I joy again, Never, oh never, shall I see more joy.

Rich. I cannot weep ; for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart ; Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden,

. Ob speak no more !) The are well distinguished by their generous tenderness of Edivard, different reception of their faand savage fortitude of Richard, ther's death.


For felf-fame wind that I should speak withal,
Is kindling coals that fire up all my breast;
And burn me up with flames, that tears would quench.
To weep is to make less the depth of grief:
Tears then for babes; blows and revenge for me!
Richard, I bear thy name; I'll venge thy death;
Or die renowned by atcemping it.

Edw. His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee: His dukedom and his chair with me is left.

Ricb. If thou be that princely Eagle's bird,
Shew thy descent, by gazing 'gainst the sun,
For chair and dukedoms throne and kingdom say,
Either that's thine, or else thou wert not his,


March. Enter Warwick, Marquis of Montague,

and their army. War. How now, fair Lords? what fare? what news

Rich. Great Lord of Warwick, if we should recount
Our baleful news, and at each word's deliv'rance
Stab poniards in our felh till all were told;
The words would add more anguish than the wounds.
O valiant Lord, the Duke of York is Nain.

Edw. O Warwick ! Warwick! That Plantagenet,
Which held thee dearly as his soul's redemption,
Is by the stern Lord Clifford done to death.

War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears ;
And now, to add more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things fith then befaln,
After the bloody fray at Wakefield fought,
Where your brave father breath'd his latest gasp,
Tidings as swiftly as the post could run,
Were brought me of your loss and his depart.
I then in London, keeper of the King,
Muster'd my Soldiers, gather'd focks of friends,
March'd towards St. Albans e'intercept the Queen,


Bearing the King in my behalf along;
For by my scouts I was advertised
That she was coming with a full intent
To dash our late decree in parliament,
Touching King Henry's oath, and your succeffion.
Short tale to make, we at St. Alban's met,
Our battles join'd, and both fides fiercely fought :
But whether 'twas the coldness of the King,
Who look'd full gently on his warlike Queen,
That robb'd my soldiers of their hated fpleen;
Or whether 'twas report of her fuccess,
Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour,
Who thunders to his captives blood and death,
I cannot judge ; but to conclude with truth,
Their weapons, like to lightning, came and went;
Our soldiers, * like the night-owl's lazy fight,
Or like a lazy thresher with a fail,
Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends.
I cheer'd them up with justice of our cause,
With promise of high pay and great reward;
But all in vain, they had no heart to fight,
And we, in theni no hope to win the day ;
So that we fed; the King, unto the Queen ;
Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself,
In haste, poft-hafte, are come to join with you;
For in the Marches here we heard you were,
Making another head to fight again.
Edw. Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle War.

And when came George from Burgundy to England ?

War. Some fix miles off the Duke is with his power ; And for your brother, he was lately sent From your kind aunt, Durchess of Burgundy, With aid of soldiers to this needful war.

Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled; * Like the night-ozui's lazy nor was it necessary to the com

Hight.] This image is not parison, which is happily enough very congruous to the subject, compicated by the thresher.


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