York. Sirrah, call in my fons to be my bail; 7 Wouldst have me kneel? First, let me afk of thefe, If they can brook i bow a knee to man. I know, ere they will let me go to Ward, Shall be the Surety for their traitor father. Enter Edward and Richard. See, where they come; I'll warrant, they'll make it good. Enter Clifford. Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny their bail. Clif. Health and all Happiness to my Lord the King! [kneels. 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; 7 Would't bave me kneel? First to man. Sirrah, call in my Sons to be my bail] As thefe lines have hitherto food, I think the Senfe perplexed and obfcure. I have ventur'd to tranfpose them. WARBURTON. Shall be their Father's Bail, 4 and Bane to thofe,] Confidering how our Author loves to play on Wordsfimilarin their found, but oppofite in their Signification, I make no Doubt but the Author wrote bail and bale. Bale, (from whence our common Adjective, baleful) fignifies, Detriment, Ruin, Misfortune, &c. THEOBALD. *Bale fignifies forrow. Either word may ferve. Clif. Clif. This is my King, York, I do not mistake, K. Henry. Ay, Clifford, a Bedlam and ambitioushumour Makes him oppofe himfelf against his King. Cliff. 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 says, 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 ftake 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. Enter the Earl of Warwick and Salisbury. Clif. Are these thy bears? we'll bait thy bears to And manacle the bear-ward in their chains, 9 Call hither to the take my -Bid Salisbury and War wick come. Fork calls these Lords his bears because they had a bear for their arms. And And fuch a piece of fervice will you do, If you oppofe yourselves to match Lord Warwick. 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, And in my confcience do repute his Grace K. Henry. Haft thou not fworn allegiance unto me? K. Henry. Canft thou difpenfe with heav'n for fuch an oath ? Sal. It is great fin to swear unto a sin, But 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 himfelf. York. Call Buckingham and all the friends thou haft, I am refolv'd for death or dignity. Old Clif. 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 Clif. 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 Creft, 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 storm, 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. Clif. And fo to Arms, victorious noble father, To quell the rebels and their complices. R. Plan. Fy, charity for fhame, fpeak not in spight, For you fhall fup with Jefu Chrift to-night. Y. Clif. Foul ftigmatick, that's more than thou can't tell. R. Plan. If not in heav'n, you'll furely fup in hell. 1 Burgonet is a helmet. [Exeunt, feverally. SCENE War. Changes to a Field of Battle at St. Albans. Enter Warwick. LIFFORD of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls; CLI And if thou doft not hide thee from the bear, Enter York. How now, my Lord? what all a-foot? York. The deadly-handed Clifford flew my Steed; But match to match I have encountred him, And made a prey for carrion kites and crows Ev'n of the bonny beast he lov'd fo well. Enter Clifford. War. Of one or both of us the time is come. chace, For I myself muft hunt this deer to death. War. Then nobly, York; 'tis for a Crown thou fight'ft. As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to day, It grieves my foul to leave thee unaffail'd. [Exit War. Cif. What feeft thou in me, York? why doft thou paufe? York. With thy brave Bearing fhould I be in love, But that thou art fo faft mine enemy. Elif. Nor fhould thy Prowefs want praife and esteem, But |