YORK. The army of the Queen hath got the field.

          My uncles both are slain in rescuing me;

          And all my followers to the eager foe

          Turn back and fly, like ships before the wind,

          Or lambs pursu'd by hunger-starved wolves.

          My sons- God knows what hath bechanced them;

          But this I know- they have demean'd themselves

          Like men born to renown by life or death.

          Three times did Richard make a lane to me,

          And thrice cried 'Courage, father! fight it out.'

          And full as oft came Edward to my side

          With purple falchion, painted to the hilt

          In blood of those that had encount'red him.

          And when the hardiest warriors did retire,

          Richard cried 'Charge, and give no foot of ground!'

          And cried 'A crown, or else a glorious tomb!

          A sceptre, or an earthly sepulchre!'

          With this we charg'd again; but out alas!

          We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan

          With bootless labour swim against the tide

          And spend her strength with over-matching waves.

                                               [A short alarum within]

          Ah, hark! The fatal followers do pursue,

          And I am faint and cannot fly their fury;

          And were I strong, I would not shun their fury.

          The sands are numb'red that make up my life;

          Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

          Come, bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,

          I dare your quenchless fury to more rage;

          I am your butt, and I abide your shot.

        NORTHUMBERLAND. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.

        CLIFFORD. Ay, to such mercy as his ruthless arm

          With downright payment show'd unto my father.

          Now Phaethon hath tumbled from his car,

          And made an evening at the noontide prick.

        YORK. My ashes, as the phoenix, may bring forth

          A bird that will revenge upon you all;

          And in that hope I throw mine eyes to heaven,

          Scorning whate'er you can afflict me with.

          Why come you not? What! multitudes, and fear?

        CLIFFORD. So cowards fight when they can fly no further;

          So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons;

          So desperate thieves, all hopeless of their lives,

          Breathe out invectives 'gainst the officers.

        YORK. O Clifford, but bethink thee once again,

          And in thy thought o'errun my former time;

          And, if thou canst for blushing, view this face,

          And bite thy tongue that slanders him with cowardice

          Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere this!

        CLIFFORD. I will not bandy with thee word for word,

          But buckler with thee blows, twice two for one.

        QUEEN MARGARET. Hold, valiant Clifford; for a thousand causes

          I would prolong awhile the traitor's life.

          Wrath makes him deaf; speak thou, Northumberland.

        NORTHUMBERLAND. Hold, Clifford! do not honour him so much

          To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart.

          What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,

          For