Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be broken:

'I'd break a thousand oaths, to reign one year. Rich. No; God forbid, your grace should be forsworn.

* York. I shall be, if I claim by open war.
'Rich. I'll prove the contrary, if you'll hear me
speak.

"York. Thou canst not, son; it is impossible.
Rich. An oath is of no moment, being not
took

'Before a true and lawful magistrate,

'That hath authority over him that swears:
'Henry had none, but did usurp the place;
'Then, seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
Your oath, my lord, is vain and frivolous.

*

'Therefore, to arms. And, father, do but think, *How sweet a thing it is to wear a crown; *Within whose circuit is Elysium,

* And all that poets feign of bliss and joy. Why do we linger thus? I cannot rest,

* Until the white rose, that I wear, be dy'd * Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart. 'York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or

die.

Brother, thou shalt to London presently,

And whet on Warwick to this enterprize.

Thou, Richard, shalt unto the duke of Norfolk,
' And tell him privily of our intent.—
You, Edward, shall unto my lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise:
In them I trust; for they are soldiers,

Witty, courteous, liberal, full of spirit.

While you are thus employ'd, what resteth more, But that I seek occasion how to rise;

'And yet the king not privy to my drift,

? Nor

any of the house of Lancaster?

Enter a Messenger.

But, stay; What news? Why com'st thou in such post?

'Mes. The queen, with all the northern earls and lords,

• Intend here to besiege you in your castle: She is hard by with twenty thousand men; And therefore fortify your hold, my lord.

* York. Ay, with my sword. What! think'st thou, that we fear them?

Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me;My brother Montague shall post to London: * Let noble Warwick, Cobham, and the rest, * Whom we have left protectors of the king, * With powerful policy strengthen themselves, And trust not simple Henry, nor his oaths.

* Mont. Brother, I go; I'll win them, fear it not: * And thus most humbly I do take my leave. [Exit.

Enter Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer.

York. Sir John, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine uncles!

'You are come to Sandal in a happy hour;

The army of the queen mean to besiege us.

Sir John. She shall not need, we'll meet her in

the field.

'York. What, with five thousand men?

Rich. Ay, with five hundred, father, for a need. A woman's general; What should we fear?

[A march afar off.

Edw. I hear their drums; Let's set our men in

order;

'And issue forth, and bid them battle straight. 'York. Five men to twenty!-though the odds be great,

I doubt not, uncle, of our victory.

Many a battle have I won in France,

'When as the enemy hath been ten to one;

Why should I not now have the like success?

[Alarum. Exeunt.

SCENE III.

PLAINS NEAR SANDAL CASTLE.

Alarums. Excursions. Enter Rutland, and his

Tutor.

'Rut. Ah, whither shall I fly, to 'scape their hands!

Ah, tutor! look, where bloody Clifford comes!

Enter Clifford, and Soldiers.

Clif. Chaplain, away! thy priesthood saves thy life.

As for the brat of this accursed duke,

Whose father slew my father, --he shall die.

Tut. And I, my lord, will bear him company.

Clif. Soldiers, away with him.

'Tut. Ah, Clifford! murder not this innocent

child,

'Lest thou be hated both of God and man.

[Exit, forced off by Soldiers. Clif. How now! is he dead already? Or, is it

fear,

That makes him close his eyes?-I'll open them. 'Rut. So looks the pent-up lion o'er the wretch That trembles under his devouring paws:

And so he walks, insulting o'er his prey;

And so he comes, to rend his limbs asunder.

Ah, gentle Clifford, kill me with thy sword,
And not with such a cruel threat'ning look.
Sweet Clifford, hear me speak before I die;-
I am too mean a subject for thy wrath,
Be thou reveng'd on men, and let me live.

Clif. In vain thou speak'st, poor boy; my fa ther's blood

Hath stopp'd the passage where thy words should

enter.

Rut. Then let my father's blood open

it again;

He is a man, and, Clifford, cope with him.

Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their lives, and thine,

Were not revenge sufficient for me:

No, if I digg'd up thy forefathers' graves,
And hung their rotten coffins up in chains,

It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the house of York

Is as a fury to torment my soul;

' And till I root out their accursed line,

C

'And leave not one alive, I live in hell.

Therefore

[Lifting his hand.

Rut. O, let me pray before I take

my

To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me!

death:

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords. 'Rut. I never did thee harm; Why wilt thou slay me?

Clif. Thy father hath.

Rut.

But 'twas ere I was born.

Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me;

Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith God is just,—
He be as miserably slain as I.

Ah, let me live in prison all my days;

And when I give occasion of offence,

Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
Clif. No cause?

Thy father slew my father; therefore, die.

[Clifford stabs him. Rut. Di faciant, laudis summa sit ista tuæ!—

[Dies.

Clif. Plantagenet! I come, Plantagenet! And this thy son's blood, cleaving to my blade, Shall rust upon my weapon, till thy blood, Congeal'd with this, do make me wipe off both.

SCENE IV.

[Exit.

THE SAME.

Alarum. Enter York.

York. The army of the queen hath got the

field: