• York. About what?

• Rich. About that which concerns your grace, and us;

The crown of England, father, which is yours. York. Mine, boy? not till King Henry be dead. Rich. Your right depends not on his life, or death.

Edw. Now you are heir, therefore enjoy it now: By giving the house of Lancaster leave to breathe, It will outrun you, father, in the end.

York. I took an oath that he should quietly reign.

Edw. But, for a kingdom, any oath may be broken2:

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 dyed
Even in the lukewarm blood of Henry's heart.

2 The obligation of an oath is here eluded by a very despicable sophistry. A lawful magistrate alone has the power to exact an oath, but the oath derives no part of its force from the magisThe plea against the obligation of an oath obliging to maintain a usurper, taken from the unlawfulness of the oath itself, in the foregoing play, was rational and just. JOHNSON.

trate.

York. Richard, enough; I will be king, or die.Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this enterprise.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 and 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 Messenger4.

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

Mess. 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! thinkst

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.

3 Of sound judgment.

4 The folio reads Enter Gabriel. It was the name of the actor, probably Gabriel Singer, who played this insignificant part. The emendation is from the old play, and was made by Theobald.

I know not (says Johnson) whether the author intended any moral instruction, but he that reads this has a striking admonition against precipitancy, by which we often use unlawful means to do that which a little delay would put honestly in our power. Had York stayed but a few moments, he had saved his cause from the stain of perjury.

*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.

6 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
Tutor1.

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 father2,- he shall die.

1A priest called Sir Robert Aspall.' Hall, fo. 99.

2 i. e. the father of which brat, namely the duke of York.

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 paws3: 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 father'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, And leave not one alive, I live in hell. Therefore

[Lifting his hand.

Rut. 0, let me pray before I take my death :To thee I pray; sweet Clifford, pity me!

2 Steevens remarks that the epithet devouring, which might well have characterized the whole animal, is oddly enough bestowed on his paws.

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 born4.

Thou hast one son, for his sake pity me;

Lest, in revenge thereof,-sith5 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. Dii 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. The same.

Alarum. Enter YORK.

[Exit.

York. The army of the queen hath got the field: My uncles both are slain in rescuing me1; And all my followers to the eager foe

Turn back, and fly, like ships before the wind, 'Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves.

My sons-God knows, what hath bechanced them:

4 Rutland was born in 1443; or at latest, according to Hall, in 1448, and Clifford's father was slain at the battle of St. Albans, in 1455. Consequently Rutland was then at least seven years old, more probably twelve.

5 Since.

6 This line is in Ovid's Epistle from Phillis to Demophoon. The same quotation is in Nash's Have with you to Saffron Walden, 1596.

1 These were two bastard uncles by the mother's side, Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. See Grafton's Chronicle, p. 649.