[They fight and CLIFFORD falls]
CLIFFORD. La fin couronne les oeuvres. [Dies]
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
YOUNG CLIFFORD. 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! Let no soldier fly.
He that is truly
dedicate to war
Hath no self-love; nor he that loves himself
Hath not
essentially, but by circumstance,
The name of
valour. [Sees his father's body]
O, let the vile world end
And the premised flames of the last day
Knit earth and heaven together!
Now let the general
trumpet blow his blast,
Particularities and petty sounds
To cease! Wast thou ordain'd, dear 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 did;
In
cruelty will I seek out my fame.
Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house;
As did Aeneas old Anchises bear,
So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;
But then Aeneas bare a living load,
Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.
Exit with the body
Enter RICHARD and SOMERSET to fight. SOMERSET is killed
RICHARD. So, lie thou there;
For
underneath an alehouse' paltry sign,
The Castle in Saint 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
Fight. Excursions. Enter KING, QUEEN, and others
QUEEN. Away, my lord! You are slow; for shame, away!
KING HENRY. Can we
outrun 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 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 stopp'd.
Re-enter YOUNG CLIFFORD
YOUNG CLIFFORD. But that my heart's on future
mischief set,
I would speak
blasphemy ere bid you fly;
But fly you must; uncurable 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
SCENE III.
Fields near Saint Albans
Alarum. Retreat. Enter YORK, RICHARD, 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.
RICHARD. 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 a
homely house,
So was his will in his old
feeble body.
But, noble as he is, look where he comes.
Enter SALISBURY
SALISBURY. 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?
WARWICK. After them? Nay, before them, if we can.
Now, by my faith, lords, 'twas a
glorious day:
Saint Albans' battle, 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 End-