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Proud northern lord, Clifford of Cumberland,
How now, my noble lord! what, all a-foot?
York. The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;
And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
War. Of one or both of us the time is come.
York. Hold, Warwick! seek thee out some other chace,
For I myself must hunt this deer to death.
War. Then, nobly, York; 't is for a crown thou fight'st.
As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,
It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.
[Exit WARWICK. 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 't is shown 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.
[They fight, and CLIFFORD falls and dies.
York. Thus war hath given thee peace, for thou art still. Peace with his soul, heaven, if it be thy will!
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,
Hot coals of vengeance! Let no soldier fly:
He that is truly dedicate to war,
Hath no self-love; nor he, that loves himself,
And the premised flames of the last day
[Seeing his Father's body.
Now let the general trumpet blow his blast,
- Wast thou ordain'd, dear father,
And, in thy reverence, and thy chair-days, thus
And beauty, that the tyrant oft reclaims,
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house;
Hath made the wizard famous in his death.
Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still:
Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.
Alarums: Excursions. Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, and others, retreating.
Q. Mar. Away, my lord! you are slow: for shame, away! Can we outrun the heavens? good Margaret, stay. Q. Mar. 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
[Alarum afar off.
now in our fortunes made,
Enter young CLIFFORD.
Y. Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief set,
But fly you must: uncurable discomfit
Fields near Saint Albans.
Flourish; then 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
Three times to-day I holp him to his horse,
But still, where danger was, still there I met him;
So was his will in his old feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look where he comes.
Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to-day:
And it hath pleas'd him, that three times to-day
York. I know our safety is to follow them;
War. After them? nay, before them, if we can.
Sound, drums and trumpets! - and to London all;