O. Cliff.
Aye, here they come, that dare and will disturb thee.

“We come ambassadors from Harry our king
Unto his commons, whom Cade hath misled,
Proclaiming his free pardon unto all
That will forsake him, and go home in peace.

Y. Cliff.
What say ye, countrymen? Will ye relent,
And yield to mercy when 'tis offered you—
Or let a rebel lead you to your deaths?
Who loves the king, and will embrace his pardon,
Fling up his cap, and cry, God save his majesty!
Who hateth him, and honours not his father,
Harry the fifth, who made all France to quake,
Shake he his weapon at us, and pass by!

All.

God save the king! God save the king! huzza!

Cade.

“What, base peasants? Do ye believe what these lords say unto you? Will ye needs be hanged with your pardons about your necks? Hath my sword, therefore, broken through London gates, that you should leave me at the White Hart, in Southwark? I thought you would never have given out these arms till you had recovered your ancient freedom. But ye are all recreants and dastards—and a curse light upon ye all!” (Here some voices call out, “A Cade, a Cade!” Others,—“A Clifford!— Hear Clifford speak!)

Y. Cliff.
Is Cade the son of your renowned Harry?
Will he conduct you through the heart of France,
And make the meanest of you earls and dukes?
—To France! to France! regain what ye have lost.
Spare England; for it is your native coast.

All.

A Clifford! a Clifford! We'll follow the king and Clifford.

Cade.

Was ever feather so lightly blown to and fro? The bare name of Harry the fifth hurries them

away; and I have no choice left me. Out then, my good sword! Make thou way for me. 'Spite of the devils and hell, have through the midst of you.

O. Cliff.
What, is he 'scaped? Go some, and follow him.
And now, brave soldiers, we'll devise the means
To reconcile you all unto the king. [Exeunt. “SCENE III. “Terrace on outside of the Palace. “(Trumpets.) Enter King Henry, Somerset, and Attendants.

“King.
Was ever king enjoy'd an earthly throne,
And could command no more content than I?
Was ever subject long'd to be a king,
As I do long and wish to be a subject? Enter Old Clifford.
Heath and good tidings to your majesty!”

“King.
Why, Clifford, is the traitor Cade surprized?

“Old Cliff.
He's fled, my lord, and all his powers do yield,
And humbly now, with halters on their necks,
Expect your highness' doom of life and death.”

“King.
Then, Heav'n set ope thine everlasting gates
To entertain my vows of thanks and praise!” “Enter Buckingham with letters.

“Buck.
Please it your grace, these letters will proclaim

That Cade is slain—a brave esquire of Kent
Surprised him lurking in his garden—fought
Him hand to hand, and in fair combat killed him,
This is not all—the noble Duke of York
Is with a puissant and mighty power,
Advancing hitherward in proud array;
And still proclaimeth, as he comes along,
His arms are only to remove from thee
The Duke of Somerset, whom he terms a traitor.

“King.
I pray thee, Clifford, go and meet with him,
And ask him what's the reason of these arms.
Somerset—we must commit thee to the Tower
Until his army be dismissed from him.

“Som.
My lord, I'll yield myself a prisoner,
Or unto death, to do my country good.

“King.
Oh! let not England curse my wretched reign!” [Exeunt. SCENE IV. Fields near London. York's Army marches over the stage. Then enter York, Vernon, and Officers.

York advances.
Thus far hath York advanced to claim his right,
And pluck the crown from feeble Henry's head.
Ring bells aloud! burn bonfirses clear and bright!
To entertain fair England's lawful king.
Well, nobles, well,—'twas politickly done,
To send me packing with a host of men.
I fear me, you but warm'd the starved snake,

Who, cherish'd in your breasts, will sting your hearts.
I will stir up in England some black storm,
Shall blow ten thousand souls to heaven or hell;
And this fell tempest shall not cease to rage,
Until the golden circuit on my head,
Like to the glorious sun's transparent beams,
Burst forth, and drive the scudding rack before it.
Ah, majesty! who would not buy thee dear?
Let them obey that know not how to rule.
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a sword or scèptre balance it. Enter a Trumpet from the King.

Trump.
The mighty Lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
Sent by King Henry, doth demand a parley.

York.
Go—bid him welcome! I shall greet him fair. [Exit trumpet.
It is the pride of kings to be thought gods
On earth, striving to mock Omnipotence,
To make them favourites, plant them aloft
In their own sphere, till remote kingdoms gaze
At their prodigious height—then, in an instant
Shoot them from thence like falling meteors.* ^note Enter Old Clifford.

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

York.
Clifford of Cumberland, I accept thy greeting.
Art thou a messenger, or com'st of pleasure?

O. Cliff.
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,

Should dare to bring thy force so near the court.

York.
Scarce can I speak, my choler is so great. (Aside)
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 awhile,
'Till Henry be more weak, and I more strong.
—Oh, my good lord, I pray thee, 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,
As dangerous to the crown as to the state.

O. Cliff.
York, if thy arms be to no other end,
Know thou, that Somerset is in the Tower.—
Nay, by my honour, he is prisoner.

York.
Soldiers! I thank ye all—disperse yourselves!

O. Cliff.
I do commend this prompt submission.
Now, let us seek the royal tent together. [Exeunt SCENE V. Enter King Henry and attendants. Trumpet. On the other side, York, Old Clifford, and others.

York. (kneeling)
In all submission and humility,
York doth present himself unto your highness.

King.
Cousin! what means this armed force you bring?
Say—doth it aim at our anointed head?

York.
No—for defence of thine anointed head
Against audacious treason, gracious lord!
And, Somerset removed, it asks no more. Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset.

Queen.
For thousand Yorks, he shall not hide his head,
But boldly stand, and front him face to face.

York.
How now! is Somerset at liberty?
Then, York, unloose thy long imprison'd thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equal to thine heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?
False king—why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can bear abuse?
That head of thine doth not become a crown;
That hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely sceptre.
Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up!
Give place—By heaven's king thou shalt rule no more
O'er him whom heaven created to rule thee.

Som.
Oh monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York.
Yield thee, proud rebel, yield, and sue for grace.

York.
Wouldst have me kneel? First let me ask of these,
If they can brook I bend the knee to man. [Pointing to his Officers.

O. Cliff.
Why, what a nest of traitors have we here?

York.
Look in a glass, and call thine image so.
I am the 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.
—Salisbury and Warwick! Richard calls for you.

Enter Salisbury and Warwick.

Queen.
Are these thy bears? We'll bait thy bears to death,
And manacle the bear-ward in their chains,
If thou dare bring them to a baiting place.

King.
Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
Old Salisbury!—Shame on thy silver hair.
Thou mad misleader of thy brain-sick son,
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed, play the ruffian?
Oh where is faith? Oh where is loyalty?
If it be banish'd from the frosty head,
Where shall it find a resting place on earth?
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And shame thine honourable age with blood?
For shame! in duty bend thy knee to me.
Hast thou not sworn allegiance to thy king?

Sal.
It is great sin to keep a sinful oath,
Who can be bound by any solemn vow
To lie, to rob, to do a murderous deed,
To force a spotless virgin's chastity?
To rob the orphan of his patrimony,
To wring the widow of her custom'd right?

Queen.
A subtle traitor needs no sophister.

King.
Call Buckingham, and bind him arm himself.

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

O. Cliff.
The first, I warrant thee; if dreams prove, true.

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

O. Cliff.
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,
Might I but know thee by thy house's badge.

War.
Now by my father's badge, old Nevill's crest,—
The rampant bear chain'd to a 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. [Exeunt. The two parties severally. SCENE VI. Field of Battle near St. Albans. Alarm. Excursions. Enter Warwick.

War.
Clifford of Cumberland! 'tis Warwick calls;
And, if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
Now when the angry trumpet sounds alarum
And dying men's cries do fill the empty air,
Proud northern Lord! Clifford of Cumberland!
Clifford! I say—come forth, and fight with me. 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 loved so well.

Enter Old Clifford—(Warwick prepares to fight him)
Hold, Warwick! seek thee out some other game,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death,

War.
Then nobly, York. 'Tis for a crown thou fightest.
“As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to day,
“It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.” [Exit.

“O. Cliff.
What see'st thou in me, York?—Why dost thou pause?
Come on—I hold no commune with a traitor!” [Fight. Cliff. slain.

York.
Thus war hath given thee peace—rage, tranquil sleep,
Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will. [Exit. Alarm.—Excursions.—The Red Rose Banner routed. Enter Young Clifford.

Y. Cliff.
Shame and confusion! all is on the rout.
Fear frames disorder, and disorder wounds
Where it should guard. O War! thou son of Hell,
Whom angry Heavens do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
Hot coals of vengeance! [Sees his father's body.
O let the vile world end,
And the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heaven together! Was it for thee
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? Ev'n 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 know the name of pity.
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house!
As did Æneas old Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders,
But then the Trojan bore a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine! [Exit. bearing off his Father. SCENE VII. Another part of the Field. Enter King, Queen, and Attendants.

Queen.
Away, my lord—you're slow—away away!

King.
Can we out run the heavens?—Good Margaret stay.

Queen.
What are you made of? you'll nor fight, nor fly.
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.
If you be ta'en, we then shall see the bottom
Of all our fortunes: but, if we haply 'scape,
(As well we may, if not for your neglect,)—

Enter Young Clifford.

Y. Cliff.
But that my heart's on future vengeance bent,
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly.
But fly you must! Incurable discomfit
Reigns in the hearts of all our present powers.
Clifford is slain—the fountain of my blood
Is stopp'd by York; and princely Somerset,
Chased through St. Alban's Streets, hath met his fate. [Alarum.
Hark! the foe presses nearer—nearer yet,—
Away, for your relief!—Away, away! [Exeunt. END OF ACT IV.

Previous section

Next section