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! sancta majestas ^note, who would not buy thee dear?
Let them obey that know ^note not how to rule;
This hand was made to handle nought but gold.
I cannot ^note give due action to my words,
Except a sword or sceptre balance it:
A sceptre shall it have, have I a soul ^note,
On which I'll toss the flower-de-luce ^note 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.
Humphrey 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,
Should ^note raise so great a power without his leave,
Or dare to bring thy force so near the court.

York. [Aside]
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 ^note 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. ^note—
Buckingham ^note, I prithee, 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.

Buck.
That is too much presumption on thy part:
But if thy arms ^note 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. ^note

York.
Then, Buckingham, I do dismiss my powers.
Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves;

Meet me to-morrow in Saint George's field,
You shall have pay and every thing you wish.
And let my sovereign, 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: ^note
We twain will go into his highness' tent. ^noteEnter ^note King and Attendants.

King.
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.

King.
Then what intends ^note these forces thou dost bring?

York.
To heave ^note the traitor Somerset from hence,
And fight against that monstrous rebel Cade,
Who ^note since I heard ^note to be discomfited. Enter Iden, with Cade's head.

Iden.
If one so rude and of so mean condition
May pass ^note into the presence of a king,
Lo, I present your grace a traitor's head,
The head of Cade, whom I in combat slew.

King.
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 ^note the man that slew him?

Iden.
I was, an't ^note like your majesty.

King.
How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree?

Iden.
Alexander Iden ^note, that's my name ^note; ^note
A poor esquire of Kent, that loves his ^note king.

Buck.
So please it ^note you, my lord, 'twere not amiss
He were created knight for his ^note good service.

King.
Iden, kneel down. [He kneels.] Rise ^note 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! [Rises. ^note Enter Queen and Somerset. ^note

King.
See, Buckingham, Somerset ^note comes with the queen:
Go, bid her hide him quickly from the duke.

Queen.
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 not king ^note,
Not fit to govern and rule ^note multitudes,
Which darest ^note 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 sceptre.
That gold must round engirt these ^note brows of mine,
Whose smile and frown ^note, like to ^note Achilles' spear,
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a sceptre up
And with the same to act ^note controlling laws.
Give place: by heaven, thou shalt rule no more
O'er him whom heaven 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.
Wouldst have me kneel? ^note first let me ask of these ^note,
If they can brook I bow a knee to man.
Sirrah, call in my sons ^note to be my bail ^note: ^note [Exit ^note Attendant.
I know, ere they will have me go to ward,
They'll pawn their swords for ^note my enfranchisement.

Queen.
Call hither Clifford; bid him come amain,
To say if that the bastard boys of York
Shall be the surety for their traitor father. [Exit Buckingham. ^note

York.
O blood-bespotted Neapolitan,
Outcast of Naples, England's bloody scourge!
The sons of York, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their father's bail ^note; and bane ^note to those
That for my surety will refuse the boys! ^note Enter ^note Edward and Richard.

See where they come: I'll warrant they'll make it good. Enter old Clifford and his Son. ^note

Queen.
And here comes Clifford to deny their bail.

Clif.
Health and all happiness to my lord the king! [Kneels. ^note

York.
I ^note thank thee, Clifford: say, what news with thee?
Nay, do not fright us ^note with an angry look:
We are thy sovereign, Clifford, kneel again;
For thy mistaking so, we pardon thee.

Clif.
This is my king, York, I do not mistake;
But thou mistakest ^note me much to think I do:
To Bedlam with him! is the man grown mad?

King.
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 chop ^note away that factious pate of his.

Queen.
He is arrested, but will not obey;
His sons, he says, shall give their words for him.

York.
Will you not, sons?

Edw. ^note
Ay, noble father, if our words will serve.

Rich.
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 ^note 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 ^note curs:
Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me.

Enter ^note the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury. ^note

Clif.
Are these thy bears? we'll bait ^note thy bears to death,
And manacle the bear-ward ^note in their chains,
If thou darest bring them to the baiting ^note place.

Rich.
Oft have I seen a hot o'erweening cur
Run ^note back and bite, because he was withheld;
Who, being ^note suffer'd with ^note the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapp'd his tail between ^note his legs and cried:
And such a piece of service will you do,
If you oppose ^note yourselves to match Lord Warwick.

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

York.
Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon.

Clif.
Take heed, lest by your heat you burn yourselves.

King.
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 ^note,
And shame ^note 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 ^note age.

Sal.
My lord, I have consider'd ^note 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.
Hast thou not sworn allegiance unto me?

Sal.
I have.

King.
Canst thou dispense with heaven for such an oath ^note?

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 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 ^note wrong
But that he was bound by a solemn oath?

Queen.
A subtle traitor needs no sophister.

King.
Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.

York.
Call Buckingham, and all the friends thou hast,
I am resolved for death or ^note dignity.

Clif. ^note
The first I warrant thee, if dreams prove true.

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

Clif. ^note
I am resolved 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 household ^note badge.

War.
Now, by my father's badge ^note, old Nevil's crest,
The rampant bear chain'd to the ragged ^note 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 ^note affright thee with the view thereof.

Clif. ^note
And from thy burgonet I'll rend thy bear

And tread it under foot with all contempt,
Despite the bear-ward ^note that protects the bear.

Y. Clif.
And so to arms ^note, victorious ^note father,
To quell the rebels ^note and their complices.

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

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

Rich.
If not in heaven, you'll surely sup in hell. [Exeunt severally. ^{note note} SCENE II. [Footnote: Saint Alban's. ^note Alarums to the battle. ^note Enter Warwick.

War.
Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls:
And if ^note thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum
And dead men's cries ^note 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 ^note 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 ^note and crows
Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.

Enter old Clifford. ^note

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

York.
Hold, Warwick, seek thee out some other chase,
For I myself 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. ^note

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.

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

York.
So let it help me now ^note 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 ^note! Address thee instantly. [They fight, and Clifford falls. ^note

Clif.
La fin couronne les œuvres ^note. [Dies. ^note

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

Y. Clif.
Shame and confusion! all ^note 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! Let no soldier ^note fly.
He that is truly dedicate to war
Hath no self-love, nor ^note he that loves himself

Hath not essentially but by circumstance
The name of valour. [Seeing his dead father ^note] O, let the vile world end,
And the premised ^note flames of the last day
Knit earth and heaven ^note together!
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds
To cease! Wast thou ordain'd ^note, dear ^note 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 ^note 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. ^note Enter Richard and Somerset to fight. Somerset is killed. ^{note note}

Rich.
So, lie thou there;

For ^note underneath an alehouse' paltry ^note 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. ^note Fight: excursions. Enter King, Queen, and others. ^note

Queen.
Away, my lord! you are slow; for shame, away!

King.
Can we outrun the heavens? good Margaret, stay.

Queen.
What are you made of? you'll nor fight ^note 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 ^note see the bottom
Of all our fortunes: but if we haply scape,
As well we ^note may, if not through your neglect,
We shall to London get, where you are loved
And where ^note this breach now in our fortunes made
May readily be stopp'd. Re-enter young Clifford. ^note

Y. Clif. ^note
But that my heart's ^note on future mischief set,
I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly:
But fly you must; uncurable ^note discomfit ^note
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts ^note.
Away, for your relief! and we will live
To see their day and them our fortune give:
Away, my lord, away! [Exeunt.

^note Scene III. [Footnote: Fields ^note near St Alban's. Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Richard, Warwick, and Soldiers, with drum and colours.

York.
Of ^note Salisbury, who can report of him,
That winter lion, who in rage forgets
Aged contusions and all brush ^note of ^note time,
And, like a gallant in the brow ^note of youth,
Repairs him with occasion? This happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.

Rich.
My noble father,
Three times to-day I holp ^note 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 a ^note homely house,
So was his will in his old feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look ^note where he comes. Enter Salisbury.

Sal.
Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to-day;
By the ^note mass, so did we all. I thank you, Richard:
God knows how long it is I have to live;
And it hath pleased him that three times to-day
You have defended me from imminent ^note 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? ^note

War.
After them! nay, before them, if we can.
Now, by my faith ^note, lords, 'twas a glorious day:
Saint Alban's battle won by famous York
Shall be eternized in all age to come.
Sound drums ^note and trumpets, and to London all:
And more such days as these ^note to us befall! [Exeunt.

NOTES. ^note