The Complete Works of William Shakespeare · William Shakespeare
SCENE II. Saint Albans
The sign of the Castle Inn is displayed. Alarums to the battle. Enter Warwick. WARWICK. Clifford of Cumberland, ’tis Warwick calls; An 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 old 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 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 dead father_.] 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 ordained, 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 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.
Text from Project Gutenberg, public domain in the United States.