R. Plant. My Noble father,

Three times to-day I holp him to his horfe,
Three times beftrid him; thrice I led him off,
Perfuaded him from any further act:

But ftill where danger was, ftill 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 fword, well haft thou fought to day;

By th❜mafs, fo 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 fuch repairing nature.

York. I know our fafety is to follow them;
For, as I hear, the King is fled to London,
To call a prefent court of parliament.
Let us purfue him ere the writs go forth.
What fays Lord Warwick? fhall 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 fuch days as these to us befal!

[Exeunt.

H 2

In part of the third at, the SCEN E is laid in France; during all the rest of the play, in England.

* First printed under the title of The true tragedy of Richard Duke of York, and the good King Henry the Sixth; or The Second part of the contention between York and Lancaster, 16cc. Mr Pope.

A C T I.

SCENE I.

London.

Alarum. Enter Duke of York, Edward, Richard, Norfolk, Montague, Warwick, and Soldiers.

He flily ftole away, and left his men :
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whofe warlike ears cou'd never brook retreat,
Chear'd up the drooping army; and himself,
Lord Clifford, and Lord Stafford, all a-breaft,
Charg'd our main battle's front; and, breaking in,
Were by the fwords of common foldiers flain.

of

Edw. Lord Stafford's father, Duke of Buckingham, Is either flain or wounded dang'rously;

I cleft his beaver with a downright blow.
That this is true, father, behold his blood.

Mont. And, brother, here's the Earl of Wiltshire's Whom I encounter'd as the battles join'd.

[blood Rich. Speak thou for me, and tell them what I did. [Throwing down the Duke of Somerset's head. York. Richard hath beft deferv'd of all my fons. Is his Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset ?

Norf. Such hope have all the line of John of Gaunt! Rich. Thus do I hope to fhake King Henry's head. War. And fo do I. Victorious Prince of York, Before I fee thee feated in that throne,

Which now the house of Lancaster ufurps,
I vow by heav'n thefe eyes shall never close.
This is the palace of that fearful king,
And this the regal feat; poffels it, York;
For this is thine, and not King Henry's heirs'.
York. Affiit me then, iweet Warwick, and I will;

For hither we have broken in by force.

Norf. We ll all affift you; he that flies, fhall die. York. Thanks, gentle Nortolk; ftay by me, my Lords; And, foldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. [They go up.

H 3

War. And when the King comes, offer him no vio-Unless he feek to thrust you out by force. Elence, York. The Queen this day here holds her parliament,. But little thinks we fhall be of her council;

By words or blows here let us win our right..

Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's ftay within this house. War. The bloody parliament fhall this be call'd,. Unless Plantagenet Duke of York-be King; And bafhful Henry depos'd, whofe cowardice Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

York. Then leave me not; my Lords, be refolute ! I mean to take poffeffion of my right.

War. Neither the King, nor he that loves him beft,, The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, Dares ftir a wing, if Warwick faake his bells. I'll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dare: Refolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.

Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Weft morland, Exeter, and others.

K. Henry. My Lords, look where the sturdy rebel fits, Even in the chair of ftate; belike he means

(Back'd by the power of Warwick that falfe peer)
T'afpire unto the crown, and reign as King..
Earl of Northumberland, he flew thy father;
And thine, Lord Clifford; and you vow'd revenge.
On him, his fons, his fav'rites, and his friends.
North. If I be not, heav'ns be reveng'd on me!
Clift The hope thereof makes Clifford mourn in steel.
Weft. What, fhall we fuffer this? let's pluck him.
My heart for anger burns, I cannot brook it. [down..
K. Henry. Be patient, gentle Earl of Westmorland;
Clif. Patience is for poltroons, and fuch as he ::
He durft not fit there had your father liv'd.
My gracious Lord, here in the parliament
Let us affail the family of York.

North. Well haft thou fpoken, coufin, be it fo.
K. Henry. Ah! know you not the city favours them,
And they have troops of foldiers at their beck?

Exe. But when the Duke is flain, they'll quickly fly.

K Henry. Far be the thought of this from Henry's To make a thambles of the parliament-house. [heart; Coufin of Exeter, frowns, words, and threats,

Shall be the war that Henry means to use.

Thou factious Duke of York, defcend my throne,

[To the Duke. And kneel for grace and mercy at my feet :

I am thy Sovereign.

York. Thou'rt deceiv'd, I'm thine:

Exe. For fhame, come down: he made thee Duke of
York:

York. 'Twas my inheritance, as the kingdom is..
Exe. Thy father was a traitor to the crown,
War. Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown,

In following this ufurping Henry.

Glif. Whom should he follow but his natural king? War. True, Clifford ; and that's Richard Duke of

York:

K. Henry. And fhall I ftand, and thou fit in my throne.?

York. It must and fhall be fo, content thy felf. War. Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King. Weft. He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster; And that the Lord of Westmorland fhall maintain. War. And Warwick fhall difprove it. You forget,. That we are those which chas'd you from the field, And flew your fathers, and with colours fpread March'd through the city to the palace-gates.

North. No, Warwick, I remember it to my grief,. And, by his foul, thou and thy houfe fhall rue it. Weft. Plantagenet, of thee, and thefe thy fons,. Thy Kinsmen and thy friends, I'll have more lives, Than drops of blood were in my father's veins. Clif Urge it no more, left that, inftead of words, fend thee, Warwick, fuch a meffenger,

As fhall revenge his death before I stir,

War. Poor Clifford ! how I fcorn his worthlefs threats. York. Will you we fhew our title to the crown? If not, our fwords fhall plead it in the field.

K. Henry, What title haft thou, traitor, to the crown? Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York;

Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March.