The Plays of Shakspeare

0 Buckingham, I pr'ythee, pardon me,

That I have given no answer all this while:
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The cause why I have brought this army hither,
Is-to remove proud Somerset from the king,
Seditious to his grace, and to the state.
Buck. That is too much presumption on thy
part:

But if thy arms be to no other end,
The king hath yielded unto thy demand;
The duke of Somerset is in the Tower.

Fork. Upon thine honour, is he prisoner ?
Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prisoner.
York. Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my

powers.

Soldiers, 1 thank you all; disperse yourselves;
Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field,
You shall have pay, and every thing you wish.
And let my sovereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest son,-nay, all my sons,
As pledges of my fealty and love,
I'll send them all as willing as I live;
Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have
Is his to use, so Somerset may die.

Buck. York, I commend this kind submission: We twain will go into his highness' tent.

Enter King HENRY, attended.

K. Hen. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us,

That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? Fork. In all submission and humility,

York doth present himself unto your highness. K. Hen. Then what intend these forces thou

dost bring?

York. To heave the traitor Somerset from hence;

And fight against that monstrous rebel, Cade, Who since I heard to be discomfited.

Enter IDEN, with Cade's head.

Iden. If one so rude, and of so mean condition, May pass into the presence of a king, Lo, I

Iden. May Iden live to merit such a bounty,

And never live but true unto his liege!

K. Hen. See, Buckingham! Somerset comes with the queen ;

Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.

Enter Queen MARGARET and SOMERSET.

Q. Mar. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head,

But boldly stand, and front him to his face.
York. How now! Is Somerset at liberty?
Then, York, unloose thy long - imprison'd
thoughts,

And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?-
False king! why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? no, thou art not king:
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
Which dar'st not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown;
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
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. Would'st 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 for my enfranchise

ment.

Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain,

present your grace a traitor's head, The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew. K. Hen. The head of Cade?-Great God, how Shall be the surety for their traitor father.

just art thou!

0, let me view his visage being dead,
That living wrought me such exceeding trouble.
Tell me, my friend, art thou the man that slew
him?

Iden. I was, an't like your majesty.
K. Hen. How art thou call'd? and what is thy

To say, if that the bastard boys of York

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.

Enter EDWARD and RICHARD PLANTAGENET, with Forces, at one side; at the other, with Forces also, Old CLIFFORD and his son.

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

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

amiss

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. He is a traitor; let him to the Tower, And chop away that factious pate of his.

Q. Mar. He is arrested, but will not obey; His sons, he says, shall give their words for him. York. Will you not, sons?

Edw. Ay, noble father, if our words will serve. Rich. And if words will not, then our weapons shall.

Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here!

York. Look in a glass, and call thy image so; I am thy king, and thou a false-heart traitor.Call hither to the stake my two brave bears, That, with the very shaking of their chains, They may astonish these fell lurking curs; Bid Salisbury, and Warwick, come to me.

Drums. Enter WARWICK and SALISBURY, with Forces.

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 cry'd: And such a piece of service will you do,

If you oppose yourself 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 ruf-

fian,

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?
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 of 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.

War. You were best to go to bed, and dream again,

To keep thee from the tempest of the field.
Clif. I am resolved 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,

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,
Despight the bear-ward that protects the bear.
Y. Clif. And so to arms, victorious father,
To quell the rebels and their 'complices.
Rich. Fye! charity, for shame! speak not in
spite,

For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. Y. Clif. Foul stigmatick, that's more than thou canst tell.

Rich. If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. Exeunt severally.

SCENE II.-Saint Albans. Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK.

War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls!

And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear, Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarm, And dead men's cries do fill the empty air,Clifford, I say, come forth and fight with me! Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland, Warwick is hoarse with calling thee to arms.

Enter YORK.

How now, my noble lord? what, all a-foot? York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;

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.

[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
esteem,

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!-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.

Enter Young CLIFFORD.

As did Æneas old Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;
But then Æneas 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 Albans, 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 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 fly.
Alarum, afar off.
If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom
Of all our fortunes: but, if we haply scape,

Y. Clif. Shame and confusion! all is on the (As well we may, if not through your neglect,)

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.-0, let the vile world end,
[Seeing his dead Father.

And the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heaven 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 'tis mine,
It shall be stony. York not our old men spares;
No more will I their babes: tears virginal

VOL. II.

We shall to London get; where you are lov'd;
And where this breach, now in our fortunes made,
preach,
May readily be stopp'd.

Enter Young CLIFFORD.

Y. Clif. But that my heart's on future mis
chief set,

I would speak blasphemy, ere bid you fly;
But fly you must; uncurable 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.

SCENE III.-Fields near Saint Albans.

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,

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 have : 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature.

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 faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day: Saint Albans' battle, won by famous York, Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.Sound, drums and trumpets;-and to London

all:

CESTER,

Duke of NORFOLK,

Marquis of MONTAGUE,

Earl of WARWICK,

Farl of PEMBROKE,

Lord HASTINGS,

Lord STAFFORD,

of the duke of York's

party.

Sir JOHN MORTIMER,

}

uncles to the duke of

Sir HUGH MORTIMER,
York.
HENRY, Earl of RICHMOND, a youth.

Lord RIVERS, brother to lady GREY.

Sir WILLIAM STANLEY.

Sir JOHN MONTGOMERY.

Sir JOHN SOMERVILLE.

Tutor to RUTLAND.

Mayor of York.

Lieutenant of the Tower.

A Nobleman.

Two Keepers.

A Huntsman.

A Son that has killed his father.
A Father that has killed his son.

Queen MARGARET.

Lady GREY, afterwards queen to EDWARD IV.
BONA, sister to the French queen.

Soldiers, and other Attendants on king HENRY
and king EDWARD, Messengers, Watchmen,
Sc.

SCENE, during part of the third act, in France; during all the rest of the play, in England.

ACT I.

SCENE I.-London. The Parliament-House.
Drums. Some Soldiers of York's party break
in. Then, enter the Duke of YORK, EDWARD,
RICHARD, NORFOLK, MONTAGUE, WAR-
WICK, and Others, with white roses in their

hats.

War. I wonder, how the king escap'd our hands. York. While we pursu'd the horsemen of the north,

He slily stole away, and left his men :
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Whereat the great lord of Northumberland,
Cheer'd up the drooping army; and himself,
Lord Clifford, and lord Stafford, all a-breast,

Charg'd our main battle's front, and, breaking in,
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
Edw. Lord Stafford's father, duke of Buck
ingham,

Is either slain, or wounded dangerous:

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The Plays of Shakspeare, Svazek 2