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 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.

60

[Exit, bearing off his father.

Enter Richard and Somerset to fight. Somerset

is killed.

Rich. So, lie thou there;

For underneath an alehouse' paltry 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.

70

[Exit.

Fight. Excursions. Enter King, Queen,
and others.

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

away!

King. Can we outrun the heavens? good Mar

garet, stay.

59. When Medea fled with Jason from Colchos, she murdered her brother Absyrtus, and cut his body into several pieces, that her father might be prevented for some time from pursuing her.-H. N. H.

Queen. What are you made of? you 'll nor fight

nor fly:

Now is it manhood, wisdom and defense,
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, 80
We shall to London get, where you are loved,
And where this breach now in our fortunes

made

May readily be stopp'd.

Re-enter young Clifford.

Y. Clif. 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. 90

SCENE III

Fields near St. Alban's.

Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Richard, War wick, and soldiers, with drum and colors.

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.

Rich.

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.

10

Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to

day;

By the 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 death.
Well, lords, we have not got that which we
have:

20

'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 faith, lords, 'twas a glorious day:
Saint Alban's battle won by famous York 30
Shall be eternized in all age to come.
Sound drums and trumpets, and to London all:
And more such days as these to us befall!

[Exeunt.

GLOSSARY

By ISRAEL GOLLANCZ, M.A.