Sword, hold thy temper; heart, be wrathful still: Priests pray for enemies, but princes kill.

[Exit.

Alarums: Excursions. Enter King HENRY, Queen MARGARET, and Others, retreating.

Queen. Away, my lord! you are slow: for shame, away!

King. Can we outrun the heavens? good Mar

garet, stay.

Queen. What are you made of? you'll nor fight, nor fly:

Now is it manhood, wisdom, and defence,
To give the enemy way; and to secure us
By what we can, which can no more but fly.

[Alarum afar off

If you be ta'en, we then should see the bottom 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 lov'd, And where this breach, now in our fortuner made, May readily be stopp'd.

Enter Young CLIFFORD.

Y. Clif. But that my heart's on future mischief

set,

I would speak blasphemy ere bid you fly;

But fly you must: uncurable discomfit
Reigns in the hearts of all our present party.
Away for your relief! and we will live

To see their day, and them our fortune give.
Away, my lord, away!

[Exeunt

SCENE III. Fields near St. Albans.

Alarum: Retreat. Flourish; then enter YORK, RICH ARD, WARWICK, and Soldiers, with Drum and Colours.

York. Old Salisbury, who can report of him? 'That winter lion, who in rage forgets

Aged contusions and all brush of time;
And, like a gallant in the brow of youth,'
Repairs him with occasion: this happy day
Is not itself, nor have we won one foot,
If Salisbury be lost.

Rich.

My noble father,

Three times to-day I holp him to his horse,

2

Three times bestrid him; thrice I led him off,

Persuaded 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, look where he comes.

Enter SALISBURY.

Sal. Now, by my sword, well hast thou fought to-day;

By the mass, so 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. --

That is, the height of youth: the brow of a hill is its summit That is, three times I saw him fallen, and striding over him defended him till he recovered. This act of friendship Shakespeare has frequently mentioned. See 1 Henry IV., Act v. sc. 1,

Well, lords, we have not got that which we have: ' "Tis not enough our foes are this time fled, Being opposites of such repairing nature.*

York. I know our safety is to follow them; For, as I hear, the king is fled to London, To call a present court of parliament. Let us pursue him, ere the writs go forth: What says lord Warwick? shall we after them? War. After them? nay, before them, if we can. Now by my hand, lords, 'twas a glorious day: St. Albans' battle, won by famous York, Shall be eterniz'd in all age to come.Sound, drums and trumpets!—and to London all; And more such days as these to us befall!

[Exeunt.

That is, we have not secured that which we have acquired. 4 That is, being enemies that are likely so soon to rally and recover themselves from this defeat. To repair, in ancient language, was to renovate, to restore to a former condition

INTRODUCTION

ΤΟ

THE THIRD PART OF HENRY VI.

THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH resumes the course of history just where it paused at the close of the preceding play, and carries it on from the first battle of St. Albans, May, 1455, till the death of King Henry, which took place in May, 1471. And the connection of this play with the foregoing is much the same as that between the First Part and the Second, there being no apparent reason why the Third should begin where it does, but that the Second ended there. The parliamentary doings, which resulted in a compromise of the two factions, are here set in immediate juxtaposition with the first battle of St. Albans, whereas in fact they were separated by an interval of more than five years. Nevertheless, the arrangement is a very judicious one; for that interval was marked by little else than similar scenes of slaughter, which had no decisive effect on the relative condition of parties; so that the representing of them would but have encumbered the drama with details without helping on the purpose of the work. Not so, however, with the battle of Wakefield, which followed hard upon those doings in parliament; for this battle, besides that it yielded matter of peculiar dramatic interest in itself, had the effect of kindling that inexpressible rage and fury of madness, which it took such rivers of blood to slake. For historians note that from this time forward the war was conducted with the fiercest rancour ard exasperation, each faction seeming more intent to butcher than to subdue the other. The cause of this demoniacal enthusiasm could not well be better presented than it is in the wanton and remorseless savagery displayed at the battle in question. And the effect is answerably told in the next battle represented, where the varying fortune and long-doubtful issue served but to multiply and deepen the horrors of the tragedy. Even the pauses of the fight are but occupied in blowing hotter the passion and bracing firmet the purpose of the combatants; while the reflection of the King,