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 it self, 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 he strid 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,
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.

The With the DEATH of the DUKE of

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