Saint Albans.
 Alarums to the battle. Enter WARWICK.

Warwick	Clifford of Cumberland! - 'tis Warwick calls;
	And if thou dost not hide thee from the bear,
	Now, when the angry trumpet sounds alarum
	And dead men's 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.

	How now, my noble lord! What, all afoot?

York	The deadly-handed Clifford slew my steed;
	But match to match I have encountered him,
	And made a prey for carrion kites and crows
	Even of the bonny beast he loved so well.

                             Enter CLIFFORD.

Warwick	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.

Warwick	Then nobly, York; 'tis for a crown thou fight'st.
	As I intend, Clifford, to thrive today,
	It grieves my soul to leave thee unassailed.
													[Exit.

Clifford	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.

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

York	So let it help me now against thy sword,
	As I in justice and true right express it.

Clifford	My soul and body on the action both!

York	A dreadful lay! Address thee instantly.
													[They fight,
													and YORK kills CLIFFORD.
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.
	[Seeing his father's body.] O, let the vile world end,
	And the premisd 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 ordained, dear father,
	To lose thy youth in peace, and to achieve
	The silver livery of advisd age,
	And, in thy reverence and thy chair-days, thus
	To die in ruffian battle? Even at this sight
	My heart is turned 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 his father's 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.
                              Alarums again.
  And then enter three or four bearing BUCKINGHAM, wounded, to his tent.

                              Alarums still.
                Enter KING, QUEEN MARGARET, and SOLDIERS.

Margaret	Away, my lord! You are slow; for shame, away!

King Henry	Can we outrun the heavens? Good Margaret, stay.

Margaret	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 loved,
	And where this breach now in our fortunes made
	May readily be stopped.

                         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.
