SCENE changes to the King's Pavilion.

Enter King Henry and Attendants. Re-enter Buckingham, and York, attended.

K. Hen.

That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm? York. In all fubmiffion and humility,

York doth prefent himself unto your Highness.
K. Hen. Then what intend thefe forces thou doft bring?
York. To heave the traitor Somerfet from hence,
And fight against that monftrous Rebel Cade;
Whom, fince, I heard to be discomfited.

Enter Iden with Cade's head.

Iden. If one fo rude, and of fo mean condition,
May pass into the prefence of a King,

Lo, I prefent your Grace a traitor's head;
The head of Cade, whom I in combat flew.

K. Henry. The head of Cade? great God! how juft art thou?

O, let me view his vifage being dead,

That, living, wrought me fuch exceeding trouble. Tell me, my friend; art thou the man, that flew him? Iden. I was, an't like your Majefty.

K.Henry. How art thou call'd? and what is thy degree? Iden. Alexander Iden, that's my name.

A poor Efquire of Kent, that love's the King.

Buck. So please it you, my Lord, 'twere not amifs He were created Knight for his good fervice. K. Henry. Iden, kneel down; rife up a Knight: We give thee for reward a thousand marks, And will that thou henceforth attend on us. Iden. May Iden, live to merit fuch a bounty, And never live but true unto his Liege!

Enter Queen Margaret and Somerset.

K.Hen. See, Buckingham, Somerfet comes with the Queen: Go, bid her hide him quickly from the Duke.

Q. Mar.

Q.Mar. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his head, But boldly ftand and front him to his face.

York. How now? is Somerset at liberty?
Then, York, unloofe thy long imprifon'd thoughts,
And let thy tongue be equal with thy heart.
Shall I endure the fight of Somerfet?

Falfe King! why haft thou broken faith with me,
Knowing how harldly I can brook abufe?
King did I call thee? no, thou art no King :
Not fit to govern and rule multitudes,

Which durft not, no, nor can not rule a traitor,
That head of thine doth not become a crown:
Thy hand is made to grafp a palmer's ftaff,
And not to grace an awful princely scepter.
That gold muft round engirt these brows of mine,
Whofe fmile and frown (like to Achilles' fpear)
Is able with the change to kill and cure.
Here is a hand to hold a fcepter up,

And with the fame to act controlling laws :
Give place; by heav'n, thou fhalt rule no more
O'er him, whom heav'n created for thy ruler.

Som. O monftrous traitor! I arreft thee, York,
Of capital treafon 'gainst the King and crown ;
Obey, audacious traitor, kneel for grace.

York. Sirrah, call in my fons to be my bail; (12) Wouldst have me kneel? First, let me afk of these, If they can brook I bow a knee to man.

I know, ere they will let me go to ward,
They'll pawn their fwords for my enfranchisement.
Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain,
To fay, if that the bastard boys of York
Shall be the furety for their traitor father.
York. O blood-befpotted Neapolitan,
Out-caft of Naples, England's bloody scourge !

(12) Would have me kneel? First let me ask of thefe, If they can brook I borv a knee to man.

Sirrab, call in my Sons to be my bail.] As thefe Lines have hitherto ftood, I think the Sense perplexed and obfcure. I have ventured to tranfpofe them, and make a flight Alteration, by the Advice of my ingenious Friend Mr. Warburton.

The

The fons of York, thy betters in their birth,
Shall be their father's bail, and bale to thofe (13)
That for my furety will refufe the boys.

Enter Edward and Richard.

Sce, where they come ; I'll warrant, they'll make it good. Enter Clifford.

Q. Mar. And here cemes Clifford, to deny their bail. Clif Health and all happiness to my Lord the King! York. I thank thee, Clifford; fay, what news with thee? Nay, do not fright us with an angry look:

We are thy Sovereign, Clifford, kneel again;
For thy miftaking fo, we pardon thee.

Clif. This is my King, York, I do not miftake;
But thou mistak'ft me much, to think I do ;
To Bedlam with him, is the man grown mad?

K. Henry. Ay, Clifford, a Bedlam and ambitious humour Makes him oppofe himself against his King.

Clif. He is a traitor, let him to the Tower, And crop away that factious pate of his,

Q. Mar. He is arrefted, but will not obey: His fons, he fays, fhall give their words for him. York. Will you not, fons?

E. Plan. Ay, noble father, if our words will ferve. R. Plan. And if words will not, then our weapons fhall. Clif. Why, what a brood of traitors have we here? York. Look in a glafs, and call thy image fo. I am thy King, and thou a falfe-heart traitor; Call hither to the flake my two brave bears, That with the very fhaking of their chains They may aftonifh thefe fell-lurking curs; Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me.

(13) Shall be their Father's Bail and Bane to thofe,] Confidering, how our Author loves to play on Words fimilar in their Sound, but oppofite in their Signification, I make no Doubt but I have here reftored his genuine Reading. Bale, (from whence our common Adjective, baleful) fignifies, Detriment, Ruin, Misfortune, &c.

Enter

Enter the Earl of Warwick and Salisbury.

Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to death, And manacle the bear-ward in their chains, If thou dar'ft bring them to the baiting-place.

R. Plan. Oft have I feen a hot o'er-weening cur, Run back and bite, because he was withheld; Who, being fuffer'd with the bear's fell paw, Hath clapt his tail between his legs and cry'd: And fuch a piece of fervice will you do, If you oppose yourselves to match Lord Warwick. Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigefted lump, As crooked in thy manners, as thy fhape.

York. Nay, we shall heat you thoroughly anon. Clif.Take heed, left by your heat you burn yourfelves. K. Henry. Why, Warwick, hath thy knee forgot to bow? Old Salisbury, fhame to thy filver hair,

Thou mad mif-leader of thy brain-fick fon,
What, wilt thou on thy death-bed play the ruffian,
And feek for forrow with thy spectacles?
Oh, where is faith? oh, where is loyalty?
If it be banish'd from the frofty head,
Where fhall it find a harbour in the earth?
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And shame thine honourable age with blood?
Why, art thou old, and want'it experience?
Or wherefore dost abuse it, if thou haft it?
For fhame, in duty bend thy knee to me,
That bows unto the grave with mickle age.
Sal. My Lord, I have confider'd with myself
The title of this most renowned Duke;

And in my confcience do repute his Grace
The rightful heir to England's royal Seat.

K. Henry. Haft thou not fworn allegiance unto me?

Sal. I have.

K. He. Canft thou difpenfe with heav'n for fuch an oath?
Sal. It is great fin to fwear unto a fin;

But greater fin to keep a finful oath :
Who can be bound by any folemn vow
To do a murd'rous deed, to rob a man,

Те

To force a spotlefs virgin's chastity.
To' reave the orphan of his patrimony.
To wring the widow from her custom'd right,
And have no other reason for his wrong,
But that he was bound by a folemn oath ?
Q. Mar. A fubtle traitor needs no fophifter.
K. Henry. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself.
York. Call Buckingham and all the friends thou haft,
I am refolv'd for death or dignity.

Old Cliff. The firft I warrant thee; if dreams prove true.
War. You had beft go to bed and dream again,
To keep thee from the tempeft of the field.

Old Cliff. I am refolv'd to bear a greater storm
Than any thou canft conjure up to day;
And that I'll write upon thy Burgonet,
Might I but know thee by thy House's badge.

War. Now by my father's badge, old Nevill's crest,
The rampant bear chain'd to the rugged staff,
This day I'll wear aloft my Burgonet,

(As on a mountain top the cedar fhews,
That keeps his leaves in fpight of any ftorm,)
Ev'n to affright thee with the view thereof.

Old Cliff. And from thy Burgonet I'll rend thy bear,
And tread it under foot with all contempt.
Defpight the bear-ward, that protects the bear.
Y. Cliff. And fo to Arms, victorious noble father,
To quell the rebels and their complices.

R. Plan. Fy, charity for fhame, speak not in fpight, For you fhall fup with Jefu Chrift to-night.

Y.Cliff.Foul ftigmatick, that's more than thou canft tell. R. Plan. If not in Heav'n, you'll furely fup in hell. [Exeunt feverally.

SCENE changes to a Field of Battle at St. Albans.

War.

Enter Warwick.

Lifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls;
And if thou doft not hide thee from the bear,

́(Now when the angry trumpet founds alarm,

And