Act V, Scene iii

[Alarums to the battle. Enter WARWICK.]

WARWICK.:

Clifford of Cumberland, 't is Warwick calls;

And 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 encount'red him,

And made a prey for carrion kites and crows

Even of the bonny beast he lov'd 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; 't is for a crown thou fight'st.—

As I intend, Clifford, to thrive to-day,

It grieves my soul to leave thee unassail'd.

[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 't is 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.—[Seeing 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 ordain'd, 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 turn'd to stone; and while 't is 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.—

Come, thou new ruin of old Clifford's house:

As did Aeneas old Anchises bear,

So bear I thee upon my manly shoulders;

But then Aeneas bare a living load,

Nothing so heavy as these woes of mine.

[Exit, bearing off his father. Enter RICHARD and SOMERSET tofight. SOMERSETis killed.]