Sad for the lofs of thee, having no more,

As Priam was for all his valiant fons.

I'll bear thee hence, and let them fight that will;
For I have murder'd, where I should not kill. [Exit:
K.Henry. Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care,
Here fits a King more woful than you are.

Alarms. Excurfions. Enter the Queen, Prince of Wales, and Exeter.

Prince. Fly, father, fly, for all your friends are fled; And Warwick rages like a chafed bull.

Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit.

Queen. Mount you, my Lord, towards Berwick poft

amain.

Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds
Having the fearful flying hare in fight,
With fiery eyes fparkling for very wrath,
And bloody fteel grafpt in their ireful hands,
Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain.
Exé. Away, for vengeance comes along with them.
-Nay, ftay not to expoftulate, make speed;
Or elle come after, I'll away before.

K. Henry. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet
Exeter;

Not that I fear to ftay, but love to go

Whither the Queen intends. Forward, away! [Exeunt.

A loud Alarm. Enter Clifford wounded.

Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies, Which, while it lafted, gave King Henry light. O Lancaster! I fear thy overthrow, More than my body's parting with my foul.

My love and fear glew'd many friends to thee; [Falling.
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt,
Impairing Henry, ftrengthn'ing mif-proud York.
The common People swarm like fummer flies;
And whither fly the gnats, but to the Sun?
And who fhines now, but Henry's enemies?
O Phabus! hadft thou never giv'n confent
That Phaeton fhould check thy fiery steeds,
Thy burning Car had never fcorch'd the earth h}
And Henry, hadft thou fway'd as Kings fhould do,
Or as thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground unto the Houfe of York,
They never then had fprung like fummer flies.
I, and ten thoufand in this lucklefs Realm,
Had left no mourning widows for our death;
And thou this day hadft kept thy Chair in peace.
For what doth cherish Weeds, but gentle air?
And what makes robbers bold, but too much lenity?
Bootlefs are plaints, and curelefs are my wounds;
No way to fly, nor ftrength to hold our flight.
The foe is mercilefs, and will not pity.
For at their hands I have deferv'd no pity.
The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
And much Effufe of blood doth make me faint.
Come York, and Richard; Warwick, and the reft;
I ftabb'd your fathers' bofoms, fplit my breaft.

[He faints. Alarm and Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Montague, Clarence, and Soldiers. Edw. Now breathe we, Lords, good fortune bids us paufe;

And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful looks.
Some troops purfue the bloody-minded Queen,
That led calm Henry, though he were a King,
As doth a Sail, fill'd with a fretting guft,
Command an Argofie to ftem the waves.
But think you, Lords, that Clifford fled with them?
War. No, 'tis impoffible he fhould efcape:
For though before his face I fpeak the word,
Your brother Richard mark'd him for the grave:
And wherefoe'er he is, he's furely dead.

[Clifford groans. Rich. Whofe foul is that which takes her hearty leave?

A deadly groan, like life and death's departing. ?
See who it is.

Edw. And now the battle's ended,

If friend or foe, let him be gently used.

Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy, for 'tis Clifford's Who not contented that he lopp'd the branch, In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth; But fent his murd'ring knife unto the root From whence that tender fpray did sweetly spring; I mean, our princely father, Duke of York.

War. From off the gates of York fetch down the
head,

Your father's head, which Clifford placed there;
Instead whereof, let his fupply the room.

Measure for Measure must be answered.

Edw. Bring forth that fatal fcreech-owl to our Houfe, That nothing fung but death to us and ours; Now death fhall stop his dismal threatning found, And his ill-boading tongue no more shall speak. War. I think, his understanding is bereft. -Speak, Clifford, doft thou know who speaks to thee?

-like life and death's de- which Dr. Warburton has reparting.] Sir T. Hanmer ceived.

reads, like life in death departing,

Dark

Dark cloudy death o'er-fhades his beams of life,
And he nor fees, nor hears us what we say.

Rich. O, 'would he did! and fo, perhaps, he doth. 'Tis but his policy to counterfeit,

eager words.

Because he would avoid fuch bitter taunts,
As in the time of death he gave our father.
Cla. If fo thou think'ft, vex him with
Rich. Clifford, afk mercy, and obtain no grace.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootlefs penitence.
War. Clifford, devife excufes for thy faults.
Cla. While we devife fell tortures for thy faults.
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am fon to York.
Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee.
Cla. Where's Captain Margaret to fence you now?
War. They mock thee, Clifford, fwear as thou wast

wont.

Rich. What, not an oath! nay, then the world goes

hard,

When Clifford cannot fpare his friends an oath,
I know by that, he's dead; and, by my foul,
If this right hand would buy but two hours' life,
That I in all defpight might rail at him,

This hand fhould chop it off; and with the iffuing blood
Stifle the villain, whofe unftanched thirst

York and young Rutland could not fatisfy.

War. Ay, but he's dead. Off with the traitor's head, And rear it in the place your father's ftands.

And now to London with triumphant March,
There to be crowned England's royal King,
From whence fhall Warwick cut the Sea to France,
And afk the lady Bone for thy Queen;
So fhalt thou finew both thefe lands together.
And having France thy friend, thou fhalt not dread
The scatter'd foe that hopes to rise again;
For though they cannot greatly fting to hurt,
Yet look to have them buz t'offend thine ears.
First, will I fee the Coronation,

Eager words.] Sour words; words of afperity.
M. 2

And

And then to Britanny I'll cross the sea,

T'effect this marriage, fo it pleafe my Lord.
Edw. Ev'n as thou wilt, fweet Warwick, let it be;
For on thy fhoulder do I build my Seat:
And never will I undertake the thing,
Wherein thy counfel, and confent, is wanting.
Richard, I will create thee Duke of Glofter;
And George, of Clarence; Warwick as ourfelf
Shall do and undo, as him pleafeth beft.

Rich. Let me be Duke of Clarence; George, of Glofter; For Glofter's Dukedom is too ominous.

War. Tut, that's a foolish obfervation.

Richard, be Duke of Glofter. Now to London,
To fee thefe honours in poffeffion.

15

ACT III.

[Exeunt.

SCENE I.

A Wood in Lancashire.

Enter Sinklo and Humphry, with cross-bows in their

bands.

SINKLO.

NDER this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourfelves,

UN

For through this laund anon the Deer will come,
And in this covert will we make our Stand,
Culling the principal of all the Deer.

fhoot.

Hum. I'll ftay above the hill, fo both may
Sink. That cannot be; the noife of thy cross-bow
Will fcare the herd, and fo my fhoot is loft;
Here ftand we both, and aim we at the beft,
And, for the time fhall not feem tedious,
I'll tell thee what befel me on a day,

In this felf-place where now we mean to ftand.
Hum. Here comes à man, let's ftay till he be paft.

4

Enter