Irish, with drum and colours.
York.
From Ireland thus comes York to claim his Right,
And pluck the Crown from feeble Henry's head.
Ring, bells, aloud; burn, bonfires, clear and bright,
To entertain great England's lawful King!
Ah Majesty! who would not buy thee dear?
Let them obey, that know not how to rule.
This hand was made to handle naught but gold.
I cannot give due action to my words,
Except a sword, or scepter, ballance it.
A scepter shall it have, have I 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.
Buck.
York, if thou meanest well, I greet thee well.
York.
Humphry of Buckingham, I accept thy greeting.
Art thou a messenger, or come of pleasure?
Buck.
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,
-- 288 --
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.
[Aside.
Oh, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint,
[Aside.
I am so angry at these abject terms.
[Aside.
And now, like Ajax Telamonius,
[Aside.
On sheep or oxen could I spend my fury.
[Aside.
I am far better born than is the King:
[Aside.
More like a King, more kingly in my thoughts.
[Aside.
But I must make fair weather yet a while,
[Aside.
Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.
[Aside.
O Buckingham! I pr'ythee, pardon me,
That I have giv'n 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.
Buck.
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.
Upon thine Honour is he prisoner?
Buck.
Upon mine Honour, he is prisoner.
York.
Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my Powers.
Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse your selves;
Meet me to morrow in St. George's field,
You shall have Pay and ev'ry thing you wish.
And let my Soveraign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest son; nay, all my sons,
As pledges of my fealty and love,
I'll send them all as willing as I live;
Lands, goods, horse, armour, any thing I have
Is his to use, so Somerset may die.
Buck.
York, I commend this kind submission,
We twain will go into his Highness' tent.
[Exeunt.
-- 289 --
Scene 2
SCENE changes to the King's Pavilion.
Enter King Henry, and Attendants, Re-enter Buckingham, and York, attended.
K. Henry.
Buckingham, doth York intend no Harm to us,
That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?
York.
In all submission and humility,
York doth present himself unto your Highness.
K. Henry.
Then what intend these forces thou dost bring?
York.
To heave the traitor Somerset from hence,
And fight against that monstrous Rebel Cade;
Whom, since, I heard to be discomfited.
Enter Iden with Cade's head.
Iden.
If one so rude, and of so mean condition,
May pass into the presence of a King,
Lo, I present your Grace a traitor's head;
The head of Cade, whom I in Combat slew.
K. Henry.
The head of Cade? great God! how just art thou?
O, let me view his visage being dead,
That, living, wrought me such exceeding trouble.
Tell me, my friend; art thou the man, that slew him?
Iden.
I was, an't like your Majesty.
K. Henry.
How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree?
Iden.
Alexander Iden, that's my name,
A poor Esquire of Kent, that loves the King.
Buck.
So please it you, my lord, 'twere not amiss
He were created Knight for his good service.
K. Henry.
Iden, kneel down; rise up a Knight:
We give thee for reward a thousand marks,
And will, that thou henceforth attend on us.
Iden.
May Iden live to merit such a bounty,
And never live but true unto his Liege!
-- 290 --
Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset.
K. Henry.
See, Buckingham, Somerset comes with the Queen;
Go, bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.
Q. Mar.
For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head,
But boldly stand and front him to his face.
York.
How now? is Somerset at liberty?
Then, York, unloose thy long imprison'd thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the sight of Somerset?
False King! why hast thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how hardly I can brook abuse?
King did I call thee? no, thou art no King:
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,
Which durst not, no, nor canst not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a Crown:
Thy hand is made to grasp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely scepter.
That gold must round engirt these brows of mine,
Whose smile and frown (like to Achilles' spear)
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a scepter up,
And with the same to act controlling laws:
Give place; by heaven, thou shalt rule no more
O'er him, whom heav'n created for thy ruler.
Som.
O monstrous traitor! I arrest thee, York,
Of capital treason 'gainst the King and Crown;
Obey, audacious traitor, kneel for grace.
York.
Sirrah, call in my Sons to be my Bail;(20) note
Would'st have me kneel? First, let me ask of these,
If they can brook I bow a knee to man.
I know, ere they will let me go to Ward,
They'll pawn their swords for my enfranchisement.
-- 291 --
Q. Mar.
Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain,
To say, if that the bastard boys of York
Shall be the Surety for their traitor father.
York.
O blood-bespotted Neapolitan,
Out-cast of Naples, England's bloody scourge!
The Sons of York, thy Betters in their Birth,
Shall be their father's bail, and bale to those(21) note
That for my surety will refuse the boys.
Enter Edward and Richard.
See, where they come; I'll warrant, they'll make it good.
Enter Clifford.
Q. Mar.
And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail.
Clif.
Health and all Happiness to my lord the King!
York.
I thank thee, Clifford; say, what news with thee?
Nay, do not fright us with an angry look:
We are thy Soveraign, Clifford, kneel again;
For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.
Clif.
This is my King, York, I do not mistake;
But thou mistak'st me much, to think I do;
To Bedlam with him, is the man grown mad?
K. Henry.
Ay, Clifford, a Bedlam and ambitious humour
Makes him oppose himself against his King.
Clif.
He is a traitor, let him to the Tower,
And crop away that factious pate of his.
Q. Mar.
He is arrested, but will not obey:
His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.
-- 292 --
York.
Will you not, sons?
E. Plan.
Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.
R. Plan.
And if words will not, then our weapons shall.
Clif.
Why, what a brood of traitors have we here?
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.
Enter the Earl of Warwick and Salisbury.
Clif.
Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death,
And manacle the bearward in their chains,
If thou dar'st bring them to the baiting place.
R. Plan.
Oft have I seen a hot o'er-weening cur
Run back and bite, because he was with-held;
Who, being suffer'd with the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapt his tail betwixt his legs and cry'd:
And such a piece of service will you do,
If you oppose your selves to match lord Warwick.
Clif.
Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump,
As crooked in thy manners, as thy shape.
York.
Nay, we shall heat you thorowly anon.
Clif.
Take heed, lest by your heat you burn your selves.
K. Henry.
Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow?
Old Salisbury, shame to thy silver hair,
Thou mad mis-leader of thy brain-sick son,
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian,
And seek for sorrow with thy spectacles?
Oh, where is faith? oh, 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?
-- 293 --
For shame, in duty bend thy knee to me,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age.
Sal.
My lord, I have consider'd with my self
The Title of this most renowned Duke;
And in my conscience do repute his Grace
The rightful heir to England's royal Seat.
K. Henry.
Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?
Sal.
I have.
K. Henry.
Canst thou dispense with heav'n for such an oath?
Sal.
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 murd'rous 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 his wrong,
But that he was bound by a solemn oath?
Q. Mar.
A subtle traitor needs no sophister.
K. 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.
Old Clif.
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.
Old Clif.
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 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 shews,
That keeps his leaves in spight of any storm,)
Ev'n to affright thee with the view thereof.
Old Clif.
And from thy Burgonet I'll rend thy bear,
And tread it under foot with all contempt,
Despight the bear-ward, that protects the bear.
-- 294 --
Y. Clif.
And so to Arms, victorious noble father,
To quell the rebels and their complices.
R. Plan.
Fie, charity for shame, speak not in spight,
For you shall sup with Jesu Christ to night.
Y. Clif.
Foul stigmatick, that's more than thou canst tell.
R. Plan.
If not in heav'n, you'll surely sup in hell.
[Exeunt, severally.
Scene 3
SCENE changes to a Field of Battle at St. Albans.
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 mens 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.
War.
How now, my noble lord? what all a-foot?
York.
The deadly-handed Clifford slew my Steed:
But match to match I have encountred him,
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
Ev'n of the bonny beast he lov'd so well.
Enter Clifford.
War.
Of one or both of us the time is come.
York.
Hold, Warwick: seek thee out some other chace,
For I my self must hunt this deer to death.
War.
Then nobly, York; 'tis for a Crown thou fight'st:
As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to day,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.
[Exit War.
Clif.
What seest thou in me, York? why dost thou
pause?
York.
With thy brave Bearing should I be in love,
But that thou art so fast mine enemy.
-- 295 --
Clif.
Nor should thy prowess want praise and esteem,
But that 'tis shewn ignobly, and in treason.
York.
So let it help me now against thy sword,
As I in Justice and true Right express it.
Clif.
My soul and body on the action both!—
York.
A dreadful lay, address thee instantly.
[Fight.
Clif.
La fin couronne les œuvres.
[Dies.
York.
Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still;
Peace with his soul, heav'n, if it be thy will!
[Exit.
Enter young Clifford.
Y. Clif.
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 heav'ns do make their minister,
Throw in the frozen bosoms of our part
Hot coals of vengeance. Let no soldier flie.
He, that is truly dedicate to war,
Hath no self-love; for he, that loves himself,
Hath not essentially, but by circumstance,
The name of valour.—O let the vile world end,(22) note
[Seeing his dead Father.
And the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heav'n together!
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds
To cease! Wast thou ordained, O dear father,
To lose thy youth in peace, and to atchieve
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,
-- 296 --
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 gobbits 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:
As did Æneas 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, bearing off his Father.
Enter Richard Plantagenet and Somerset, to fight.
R. Plan.
So, lye thou there:
[Somerset is kill'd.
For underneath an ale-house paltry Sign,(23) note
The Castle in St. Albans, 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 Richard Plantagenet.
Fight. Excursions. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret, and others.
Q. Mar.
Away, my lord, you are slow; for shame, away.
-- 297 --
K. Henry.
Can we out-run the heav'ns! good Marg'ret, stay.
Q. Mar.
What are you made of? you'll not 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 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 made,
May readily be stopt.
Enter Clifford.
Clif.
But that my heart's on future mischief set,
I would speak blasphemy, ere bid you fly;
But fly you must: incurable discomfit
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.
Away, for your relief; and we will live
To see their day, and them our fortune give.
Away, my lord, away!
[Exeunt.
Alarum. Retreat. 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.
R. Plan.
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 an homely house,
-- 298 --
So was his Will in his old feeble body.
But noble as he is, look, where he comes.
Enter Salisbury.
Sal.
Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to day;
By th' 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 hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day.
St. Alban's battel, won by famous York,
Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.
Sound drum and trumpets, and to London all,
And more such days as these to us befall.
[Exeunt.
