Iden.

ACT V.

SCENE I. The same.

Fields between Dartford and Blackheath.

Why, rude companion, whatsoe'er thou be, I know thee not; why then should I betray thee? Is't not enough, to break into my garden, And like a thief to come to rob my grounds, Climbing my walls in spite of me the owner,

That Alexander Iden, an esquire of Kent,
Took odds to combat a poor famish'd man.
Oppose thy steadfast-gazing eyes to mine;
See if thou canst outface me with thy looks.
Set limb to limb, and thou art far the lesser ;
Thy hand is but a finger to my fist;

Thy leg a stick, compared with this truncheon: My foot shall fight with all the strength thou hast;

And if mine arm be heaved in the air,
Thy grave is digg'd already in the earth.
As for words, whose greatness answers words,
Let this my sword report what speech forbears.

Cade.

By my valour, the most complete champion that ever I heard. Steel, if thou turn the edge, or cut not out the burly-boned clown in chines of beef ere thou sleep in thy sheath, I beseech Jove on my knees, thou mayest be turned to hobnails. They fight Cade falls.] O! I am slain. Famine, and no other, hath slain me: let ten thousand devils come against me, and give me but the ten meals I have lost, and I'd defy them all. Wither, garden; and be henceforth a burying-place to all that do dwell in this house, because the unconquered soul of Cade is filed.

Iden.

Is't Cade that I have slain, that monstrous traitor?

Sword, I will hallow thee for this thy deed,
And hang thee o'er my tomb, when I am dead:
Ne'er shall this blood be wiped from thy point,
But thou shalt wear it as a herald's coat,
To emblaze the honour that thy master got.

Cade.

Iden, farewell; and be proud of thy victory. Tell Kent from me, she hath lost her best man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for 1, that never feared any, am vanquished by famine, not by valour. [Dies.

Iden.

How much thou wrong'st me, heaven be my judge.

Die, damned wretch the curse of her that bare thee!

And as I thrust thy body in with my sword, So wish I, I might thrust thy soul to hell. Hence will I drag thee headlong by the heels Unto a dunghill, which shall be thy grave, And there cut off thy most ungracious head; Which i will bear in triumph to the king, Leaving thy trunk for crows to feed upon.

[Exit, dragging out the body.

enter York attended, with Drum and Colours; his Forces at some distance.

Let them obey, that know not how to rule;
This hand was made to handle nought but gold:
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a sword, or sceptre, balance it.
A sceptre shall it have, have 1 a soul,

On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce of France.
Enter Buckingham.

Whom have we here? Buckingham, to disturb me?

The king hath sent him, sure: I must dissemble. Buckingham.

York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well. York.

Humphrey of Buckingham, I accept thy greet

ing.

Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?
Buckingham.

A messenger from Henry, our dread liege,
To know the reason of these arms in peace;
Or why, thou-being a subject as I am,-
Against thy oath and true allegiance sworn,
Should'st raise so great a power without his
leave,

Or dare to bring thy force so near the court.
York.

Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great.
O! I could hew up rocks, and fight with flint,
I am so angry at these abject terms;
And now, like Ajax Telamonius,
On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury.
I am far better born than is the king,
More like a king, more kingly in my thoughts;
But I must make fair weather yet a while,
Till Henry be more weak, and I more strong.-
[Aside.
O 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.
Buckingham.

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.

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. Clifford.

Clifford.

The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.

Warwick.

You were best to go to bed, and dream again, To keep thee from the tempest of the field. Clifford.

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,

death, And manacle the bear-ward in their chains, If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting place. Richard.

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 yourselves to match lord Warwick. Clifford.

Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump, As crooked in thy manners as thy shape!

York.

Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.
Clifford.

Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.

King Henry.

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 ruffian, 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. Salisbury.

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 to England's royal seat.
King Henry.

Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?
Salisbury.

Salisbury.

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?
Queen Margaret.

A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
King Henry.

Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.

York.

Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast, I am resolv'd for death, or dignity.

Warwick.

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.

Clifford.

And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear, And tread it underfoot with all contempt, Despite the bear-ward that protects the bear. Young Clifford.

And so to arms, victorious father,
To quell the rebels, and their 'complices.
Richard.

Fie! charity! for shame! speak not in spite, For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to-night. Young Clifford.

Foul stigmatic, that's more than thou canst tell.

Richard.

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

SCENE 11. Saint Alban's.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter Warwick.
Warwick.

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. Warwick.

Of one or both of us the time is come,

Clifford.

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.
Clifford.

My soul and body on the action both ! ---
York.

A dreadful lay!-address thee instantly.
Clifford.

La fin couronne les œuvres.

[They fight, and Clifford falls and 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. Young Clifford.

[Exit.

Shame and confusion! all is on the rout:
Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds [hell,
Where it should guard. O war! thou son of
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 Father's body.
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 Eneas 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; Somerset is killed.
Richard.

So, lie thou there;

For, underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,
The Castle in Saint Alban's. 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. Aliums: Excursions. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and others, retreating. Queen Margaret.

Away, my lord! you are slow: for shame, away!

King Henry.

Queen Margaret,

Can we outrun the heavens? good Margaret, stay. What are you made of? you'll nor fight, nor Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence, [fly: 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, (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 May readily be stopp'd. [made,

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? Warwick.

After them? nay, before them, if we can. Now, by my hand, 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 Londo r And more such days as these to us befall! [al, [Exeunt.