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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.

[Exit, bearing off his Father. Enter Richard Plantagenet and Somerset, to fight.

R. Plan. So, lie thou there: [Somerset is killed.
For underneath an ale-house paltry fign, (23)
The castle in St. Alban's, Somerset
Hath made the wizard famous in his death;
Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful ftill:
Priests

pray
for enemies, but Princes kill.

[Exit Richard Plantagenet. Fight. Excursions. Enter King Henry, Queen Margaret,

and others. Q. Mar. Away, my Lord, you are slow; for fame away. K. Henry. Can we out-run the heav'ns! good Marg'ret,

ftay. Q. Mar. What are you made of? you'll not 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;

(23) For underneath an ale-bou se paltry fign, The castle in St. Albans, Somerset Hath made the wizard famous in bis death.] The death of Somerset here accomplishes that equivocal prediction given by Jordan, the witch, concerning this Duke; which we met with at the close of the first Act of this play :

Let him thun castles ;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains,

Than where castles, mounted, stand.
i. e. the representation of a caffle, mounted for a liga

And where this breach, now in our fortunes made,
May readily be stopt.

Enter Clifford.
Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief fet,
I would speak blafphemy, ere bid you fly;
But fly you mult : incurable discomfit
Reigns in the hearts of all our present parts.
Away, for your relief; and we will live
To les their day, and them our fortune give.
Away, my Lord, away!

[Exeunt. Alarum. Retreat. Enter York, Richard Plantagenet,

Warwick, and Soldiers, with Drum and Cclours.
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 occafion.

This happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be loft.

R. Plan. My noble father,
Three times to day I holp him to his horse,
Three times bestrid him; thrice I led himn off,
Persuaded him from any further act :
But fill, where danger was, fill 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 haft 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 oppofites of such repairing nature.

York. I know our safety is to follow them;
Vol. V.

E

For,

For, as I hear, the King is filed to London,
To call a present court of parliament.
Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth.
What lays 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 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.

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9.1. Gacht Siut

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