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* 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 of. * If you be ta’en, we then should see the bottom * Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape, * (As well we may, if not through your neglect,) * We shall to London get; where you are lov'd; * And where this breach, now in our fortunes made,

May readily be stopp’d.


young Clifford. * Y. Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief

* 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


relief! and we will live * To see their day, and them our fortune give: Away, my lord, away!




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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,

Repairs him with occasion? this happy day * Is not itself, nor have we won one foot, * If Salisbury be lost. · Rich.

My noble father, * Three times to-day I holp him to his horse, • Three times bestrid him, thrice I led him off, • Persuaded him from any further act: • But still, where danger was, still there I met him; * And like rich hangings in a homely house, * So was his will in his old feeble body.

But, noble as he is, look where he comes.


Enter Salisbury. Sul. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought

to-day; By the mass, so did we all.— I thank you, Richard: . God knows, how long it is I have to live; · 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: And more such days as these to us befall! [Exeunt.

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Rut. 0, let me pray before I take my

death:To thee I pray; Sweet Clifford, pity me!

Clif. Such pity as my rapier's point affords.

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