Rich. So lye thou there: For vnderneath an Ale-house paltry signe, The Castle in S[aint]. Albons, Somerset Hath made the Wizard famous in his death: Sword, hold thy temper; Heart, be wrathfull still: Priests pray for enemies, but Princes kill.
Enter King, Queene, and others.
Qu. Away my Lord, you are slow, for shame away
King. Can we outrun the Heauens? Good Margaret stay
Qu. What are you made of? You'l nor fight nor fly: Now is it manhood, wisedome, and defence, To giue the enemy way, and to secure vs By what we can, which can no more but flye.
Alarum a farre off.
If you be tane, we then should see the bottome Of all our Fortunes: but if we haply scape, (As well we may, if not through your neglect) We shall to London get, where you are lou'd, And where this breach now in our Fortunes made May readily be stopt. Enter Clifford.
Clif. But that my hearts on future mischeefe set, I would speake blasphemy ere bid you flye: But flye you must: Vncureable discomfite Reignes in the hearts of all our present parts. Away for your releefe, and we will liue To see their day, and them our Fortune giue. Away my Lord, away.
Alarum. Retreat. Enter Yorke, Richard, Warwicke, and Soldiers, with Drum & Colours.
Yorke. Of Salsbury, who can report of him, That Winter Lyon, who in rage forgets Aged contusions, and all brush of Time: And like a Gallant, in the brow of youth, Repaires him with Occasion. This happy day Is not it selfe, nor haue we wonne one foot, If Salsbury be lost
Rich. My Noble Father: Three times to day I holpe him to his horse, Three times bestrid him: Thrice I led him off, Perswaded him from any further act: But still where danger was, still there I met him, And like rich hangings in a homely house, So was his Will, in his old feeble body, But Noble as he is, looke where he comes. Enter Salisbury.
Sal. Now by my Sword, well hast thou fought to day: By'th' Masse so did we all. I thanke you Richard. God knowes how long it is I haue to liue: And it hath pleas'd him that three times to day You haue defended me from imminent death. Well Lords, we haue not got that which we haue, 'Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repayring Nature
Yorke. I know our safety is to follow them, For (as I heare) the King is fled to London, To call a present Court of Parliament: Let vs pursue him ere the Writs go forth. What sayes Lord Warwicke, shall we after them? War. After them: nay before them if we can: Now by my hand (Lords) 'twas a glorious day. Saint Albons battell wonne by famous Yorke, Shall be eterniz'd in all Age to come. Sound Drumme and Trumpets, and to London all, And more such dayes as these, to vs befall.
FINIS. The second Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Good Duke HVMFREY.