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Art thou a meffenger, or come of pleasure?
Buck. A meffenger from Henry our dread Liege,
To know the reason of these arms in peace?
Or why, thou, being a fubject as I am,
Against thy oath and true allegiance fworn,
Should't raife fo great a power without his leave?
Or dare to bring thy force fo near the court?

York. Scarce can I speak, my choler is fo great.
Oh, I could hew up rocks and fight with flint,
I am fo angry at these abject terms.
And now, like Ajax Telamonius,

On fheep or oxen could I spend my fury.
I am far better born than is the King:
More like a King, more kingly in my thoughts.
But I must make fair weather yet a while,
Till Henry be more weak and I more strong.
O Buckingham! I pr'ythee, pardon me,
That I have giv'n no answer all this while;
My mind was troubled with deep melancholy.
The caufe, why I have brought this army hither,
Is to remove proud Somerfet from the King,
Seditious to his Grace and to the state.

[Afide.

Buck. That is too much prefumption on thy part; But if thy arms be to no other end,

The King hath yielded unto thy demand:

The Duke of Somerfet is in the Tower.

York. Upon thine honour is he a prifoner?
Buck. Upon mine honour, he is prifoner.

York. Then, Buckingham, I do difmifs my powers.
Soldiers, I thank you all; disperse yourselves;
Meet me to-morrow in St. George's field,
You fhall have pay and every thing you wish.
And let my Sovereign, virtuous Henry,
Command my eldest son; nay, all my fons,
As pledges of my fealty and love,

I'll fend them all as willing as I live;
Lands, goods, horfe, armour, any thing I have
Is his to ufe, fo Somerset may die.

Buck. York, I commend this kind fubmiffion,
We twain will go into his Highness' tent.

[Exeunt SCENE

SCENE changes to the King's Pavilion.

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

K. Henry. Buckingham, doth York intend no harm to us,

That thus he marcheth with thee arm in arm?

York. In all fubmiffion and humility,

York doth prefent himself unto your Highness.

K. Henry. Then what intend these forces thou doft bring? York. To heave the traitor Somerset 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 pafs into the prefence of a King,

Lo, I prefent your Grace a traitor's head;

The head of Cade, whom 1 in combat flew.

K. Henry. The head of Cade? great God! how just

O, let me view his vifage being dead, [art thou
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 Majesty.

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 loves 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 Somerfet..

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

Q. Mar. For thoufand Yorks he shall not hide his head,

But boldly ftand and front him to his face.

York.

York. How now? is Somerfet 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 hardly 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 canft not rule a traitor.
That head of thine doth not become a crown;
Thy hand is made to grafp a palmer's staff,
And not to grace an awful princely fcepter.
That gold muft round engirt thefe 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 mor
O'er him whom heav'n created for thy ruler.

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

York. Sirrah, call in my fons to be my bail; (20)
Would't have me kneel? firft, 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 enfranchifement.
Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain
To fay, if that the baftard boys of York
Shall be the furety for their traitor father.
York. O blood-befpotted Neapolitan,
Out-caft of Naples, England's bloody scourge !
The fons of York, thy betters in their birth,

(20) Would't have me kneel? first, let me afk of thefe, If they can brook I bow a knee to man.

Sirrah, call in my fons to be my bail.] As thefe lines have hitherto ftood, I think the fenfe perplexed and obfcure. I have ventured to tranfpofe them, and make a flight alteration, by the advice of my ingenious friend Mr. Warburton,

Shall

Shall be their father's bail, and bale to thofe (21)
That for my furety will refufe the boys.

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 happirefs to my Lord the King! York. I thank thee, Clifford; say, 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.

Cliff. This is my King, York, I do not mistake;
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 humou 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 arrested, but will not obey: His fons, he fays, hall 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 shall 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 stake my two brave bears, That with the very shaking of their chains

(21) Shall be their father's bail, and bane to thofe.] Confidering, how our author loves to play on words fimilar in their found, but oppofite in their fignification, I make no doubt but I have here reftored his genuine reading. Bale (from whence our common adjective, baleful) fignifies detriment, ruin, misfortune, &c. We meet with this word again in Locrine, a play afcribed to our author, and printed above 20 years before his death.

Yea, with thefe eyes thou haft feen her, and therefore pull them out, for they will work thy bale.

But I fhall have occafion to enlarge my authorities for its ufage, when come to Coriglanys.

They

They may aftonish these 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 death, And manacle the bearward 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 with-held;
Who, being fuffer'd with the bear's fell paw,
Hath clapt his tail betwixt his legs and cry'd:
And fuch a piece of fervice will you do,

If you oppofe yourfelves to match Lord Warwick.
Clif. Hence, heap of wrath, foul indigested lump,
As crooked in thy manners, as thy fhape.

York. Nay, we fhall heat you thoroughly anon.
Clif. Take heed, left by your heat you burn yourselves.
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 shall it find a harbour in the earth?
Wilt thou go dig a grave to find out war,
And fhame thine honourable age with blood?
Why art thou old, and want'ft 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 conscience do repute his Grace

The rightful heir to England's royal feat.

K. Henry. Haft thou not sworn allegiance unto me? Sal. I have.

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

But

greater fin to keep a finful oath :

Who

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