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^{3 note}. Enter York.
&mlquo;How now, my noble lord? what, all a-foot?

&mlquo;York.
&mlquo;The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;
&mlquo;But match to match I have encounter'd him,
&mlquo;And made a prey for carrion kites and crows^{4 note}


&mlquo;Even of the bonny beast he lov'd so well^{5 note}
. Enter Clifford.

&mlquo;War.
&mlquo;Of one or both of us the time is come.

York.
Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chace,
For I myself^{6 note} must hunt this deer to death.

War.
Then, nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st.—
&mlquo;As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd. [Exit Warwick.

&mlquo;Clif.
&mlquo;What seest thou in me, York^{7 note}










? why dost thou pause?

&mlquo;York.
&mlquo;With thy brave bearing should I be in love,
&mlquo;But that thou art so fast mine enemy.

&mlquo;Clif.
&mlquo;Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,
&mlquo;But that 'tis shown ignobly, and in treason.

&mlquo;York.
&mlquo;So let it help me now against thy sword,
&mlquo;As I in justice and true right express it!

&mlquo;Clif.
&mlquo;My soul and body on the action both!—

&mlquo;York.
&mlquo;A dreadful lay^{8 note}!—address thee instantly. [They fight, and Clifford falls.

&mlquo;Clif.
&mlquo;La fin couronne les oeuvres^{9 note}

&mlquo;York.
&mlquo;Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still.
&mlquo;Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will! [Exit. Enter young Clifford.

&mast;Y. Clif.
&mast;Shame and confusion! all is on the rout^{2 note}














;
&mast;Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds
&mast;Where it should guard. O war, thou son of hell,
&mast;Whom angry heavens do make their minister,
&mast;Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
&mast;Hot coals of vengeance^{3 note}!—Let no soldier fly:
&mast;He that is truly dedicate to war,
&mast;Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself,
&mast;Hath not essentially, but by circumstance,
&mast;The name of valour.—O, let the vile world end! [Seeing his dead Father.

&mast;And the premised flames^{4 note} of the last day
&mast;Knit earth and heaven together!
&mast;Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
&mast;Particularities and petty sounds
&mast;To cease^{5 note}

!—Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
&mast;To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve^{6 note}
&mast;The silver livery of advised age^{7 note}

&mast;Meet I an infant of the house of York,
&mast;Into as many gobbets will I cut it,
&mast;As wild Medea young Absyrtus did^{3 note}



:
&mast;In cruelty will I seek out my fame.
&mlquo;Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house; [Taking up the Body.
&mlquo;As did Æneas old Anchises bear,
&mlquo;So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders^{4 note}