*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 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 houshold 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 bearward 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 shall sup

you

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;

• But match to match I have encounter'd him,

And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Even 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

fight'st.

'As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,

It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.

[Exit Warwick.

'Clif. What seest thou in me, York? why dost

thou pause?

York. With thy brave bearing should I be in

'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 oeuvres.

[Dies.

'York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou

art still.

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

Enter

young Clifford.

[Exit.

*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 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

* 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 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 nor fight, nor fly: