The Duke of Somerfet is in the Tower. York. Then, Buckingham, I do difmifs my Powers. Buck. Tork, I commend this kind Submiffion, Enter King Henry and Attendants. 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 thefe Forces thou doft bring? And fight against that monftrous Rebel Cade, Enter Iden with Cade's Head. Iden. If one fo rude, and of fo mean Condition May pass into the prefence of a King; Lo, I prefent your Grace a Traitor's Head, The Head of Cade, whom I in Combat flew. K. Henry. The Head of Cade? great God! how juft art thou? O let me view his Vifage being dead, 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 Majefty. 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. Nn 4 K.Henry. K.Henry. Iden, kneel down, rife up a Knight : Enter Queen Margaret and Somerfet. K. Henry. See Buckingham, Somerfet comes with the Queen; Go, bid her hide him quickly from the Duke. Q. Mar. For thousand Yorks he shall not hide his Head, Tork. How now? Is Somerfet at liberty? Falfe King, why haft thou broken Faith with me, Which durft not, no nor canft not rule a Traitor. Trok. Would't have me kneel? First, let me ask of thee, If they can brook, I bow a Knee to Man! Sirrah, call in my Sons to be my Bail: I know, e'er they will let me go to Ward, They'll pawn their Swords for my Enfranchifement. Q. Mar. Q. Mar. Call hither Clifford, bid him come amain, See where they come, I'll warrant they'll make it good. Q. Mar. And here comes Clifford, to deny their Bail. We are thy Sovereign, Clifford, kneel again; For thy mistaking fo, we pardon thee. Cliff. This is my King, Tork, 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 humour Makes him oppose 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 arrefted, but will not obey: His Sons, he fays, fhall give their Words for him. York. Will you not, Sons? E. Plan. Ay, Noble Father, if our Words will ferve. R. Plan. And if Words will not, then our Weapons fhall Clif. Why, what a brood of Traitors have we here? Tork. Look in a Glafs, and call thy Image fo. I am the King, and thou a falfe-heart Traitor; Call hither to the Stake my two brave Bears, That with the very fhaking of their Chains They may aftonifh thefe fell-lurking Curs: Bid Salisbury and Warwick come to me. Enter the Earls of Warwick and Salisbury. Clif. Are these thy Bears? We'll bair thy Bears to death, And manacle the Bearard in their Chains, If thou dar'ft bring them to the baiting place. If you fuppofe your felves to match Lord Warwick. York. Nay, we fhall heat you thoroughly anon. Thou mad mifs-leader of thy Brain-fick Son, What, wilt thou on thy Death-bed play the Ruffian? K. Henry. Haft thou not fworn Allegiance unto me? K. Henry. Canft thou difpenfe with Heaven for fuch an But greater Sin to keep a finful Oath: [Oath? And And have no other reafon for his wrong, But that he was bound by a folemn Oath? Q.Mar. A fubtle Traitor needs no Sophifter. K.Henry. Call Buckingham, and bid him arm himself. York. Call Buckingham, and all the Friends thou hast, I am refolv'd for Death or Dignity. Clif. The firft, I warrant thee; if Dreams prove true. War. Now by my Father's Badge, old Nevil's Creft, As on a Mountain top, the Cedar fhews, any ftorm, Even fo affright thee with the view thereof. Old Clif. And from thy Burgonet, I'll rend thy Bear, And tread it under foot with all contempt, Defpight the Bearard, that protects the Bear. Y. Clif. And fo to Arms, victorious noble Father, To quel the Rebels, and their Complices. R. Plan. Fie, Charity for fhame, fpeak not in fpight, For you shall fup with Jefu Chrift to night. 1 r. Clif. Foul Stigmatick, that's more than thou canft tell. R. Plan. If not in Heav'n, you'll furely fup in Hell. [Exeunt. Enter Warwick. War. Clifford of Cumberland, 'tis Warwick calls; War. How now, my noble Lord? what all a-foot? Yorks |