SCENE IV.

The fame.

Alarum. Enter YORK.

YORK. The army of the queen hath got the field:

My uncles both are flain in refcuing me ;9 • And all my followers to the eager foe

Turn back, and fly, like fhips before the wind, 'Or lambs purfu'd by hunger-starved wolves. 'My fons-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 fide, With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt

6 In blood of thofe that had encounter'd 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 fceptre, or an earthly fepulchre !

With this, we charg'd again: but, out, alas!

? My uncles both are fain in rescuing me ;] These were two baftard uncles by the mother's fide, Sir John and Sir Hugh Mortimer. See Grafton's Chronicle, p. 649. PERCY.

With purple faulchion, painted to the hilt

In blood of thofe -] So, in King Henry V:
"With pennons painted in the blood of Harfleur."

STEEVENS

'We bodg'd again; as I have seen a swan With bootlefs labour fwim 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 ftrong, I would not fhun their fury: The fands are number'd, that make up my life; 'Here must I stay, and here my life must end.

Enter Queen MARGARET, CLIFFORD, NORTHUMBERLAND, and Soldiers.

'Come, bloody Clifford,-rough Northumberland,

I dare your quenchlefs fury to more rage;
I am your butt, and I abide your fhot.

NORTH. Yield to our mercy, proud Plantagenet. CLIF. Ay, to fuch mercy, as his ruthless arm, With downright payment, fhow'd unto my father.

We bodg'd again;] I find bodgery ufed by Nashe in his Apologie of Pierce Penniless, 1593, for botchery: "Do you know your own mifbegotten bodgery?" To bodge might therefore mean, (as to botch does now) to do a thing imperfectly and aukwardly; and thence to fail or miscarry in an attempt. Cole, in his Latin Dictionary, 1679, renders" To botch or bungle, opus corrumpere, difperdere."

I fufpect, however, with Dr. Johnson, that we should read— We budg'd again. "To budge" Cole renders, pedem referre, to retreat the precife fenfe required here. So, Coriolanus, fpeaking of his army who had fled from their adversaries :

"The moufe ne'er fhunn'd the cat, as they did budge "From rafcals worfe than they." MALONE.

I believe that we bodg'd only means, we boggled, made bad or bungling work of our attempt to rally. A low unikilful tailor is often called a botcher. STEEVENS.

Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his car,
And made an evening at the noontide prick.3
YORK. My afhes, 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? CLIF. So cowards fight, when they can fy no further;

'So doves do peck the falcon's piercing talons; So defperate 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'er-run my former time: * And, if thou canft for blushing, view this face; And bite thy tongue, that flanders him with cow

ardice,

'Whose frown hath made thee faint and fly ere

this.

CLIF. I will not bandy with thee word for word; But buckle with thee blows, twice two for one.

[Draws. Q. MAR. Hold, valiant Clifford! for a thousand

causes,

I would prolong awhile the traitor's life:-
Wrath makes him deaf: speak thou, Northumber-

land.

NORTH. Hold, Clifford; do not honour him fo much,

To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart:

noontide prick.] Or, noontide point on the dial.

JOHNSON.

The fame phrase occurs in Romeo and Juliet, A& II. sc. iv.

STEEVENS.

What valour were it, when a cur doth grin,
For one to thruft his hand between his teeth,
When he might spurn him with his foot away?
It is war's prize to take all vantages;

' And ten to one is no impeach of valour.

[They lay hands on YORK, who struggles. CLIF. Ay, ay, fo ftrives the woodcock with the

gin.

NORTH. So doth the coney ftruggle in the net. [YORK is taken prisoner. YORK. So triumph thieves upon their conquer'd

booty;

So true men yield,5 with robbers so o'er-match'd. NORTH. What would your grace have done unto him now?

Q. MAR. Brave warriors, Clifford, and Northumberland,

Come make him ftand upon this molehill here; That raught at mountains with outstretched

arms,

It is war's prize-] Read-praife. WARBURTON.

I think the old reading right, which means, that all 'vantages are in war lawful prize; that is, may be lawfully taken and used. JOHNSON.

To take all advantages, is rather to the difcredit than to the praise of war, and therefore Warburton's amendment cannot be right; nor can I approve of Johnfon's explanation ;-it appears to me that it is war's prize, means merely that it is the estimation of people at war; the fettled opinion. M. MASON.

"dolus, an virtus, quis in hofte requirat?" Virg.

MALONE. So true men yield,] A true man has been already explained to be an honest man, as opposed to a thief. See Vol. VI. p. 349,

n. 8. MALONE.

That raught-] i. e. That reach'd. The ancient preterite and participle paffive of reach. So, in Antony and Cleopatra : "The hand of death has raught him.' STEEVENS.

Yet parted but the fhadow with his hand.-
*What! was it you, that would be England's king?
Was't you that revell'd in our parliament,

And made a preachment of your high descent?
Where are your mefs of fons to back you now?
The wanton Edward, and the lufty George?
And where's that valiant crook-back prodigy,
Dicky your boy, that, with his grumbling voice,
Was wont to cheer his dad in mutinies ?

Or, with the reft, where is your darling Rutland ?
Look, York; I ftain'd this napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford, with his rapier's point,
Made iffue from the bofom of the boy:
And, if thine eyes can water for his death,
I give thee this to dry thy cheeks withal.
Alas, poor York! but that I hate thee deadly,
I should lament thy miferable ftate.

I pr'ythee, grieve, to make me merry, York;
Stamp, rave, and fret, that I may fing and dance.
What, hath thy fiery heart fo parch'd thine entrails,
That not a tear can fall for Rutland's death?
* Why art thou patient, man? thou fhouldft be
mad;

* And I, to make thee mad, do mock thee thus.
Thou would'st be fee'd, I fee, to make me fport;
York cannot speak, unless he wear a crown.-
A crown for York;-and, lords, bow low to him.-

this napkin-] A napkin is a handkerchief.

JOHNSON. So, in As you like it: "To that youth he calls his Rofalind, he fends this bloody napkin." STEEVENS.

Stamp, rave, and fret, &c.] I have placed this line as it ftands in the old play. In the folio it is introduced, I believe, by the careleffnefs of the tranfcriber, fome lines lower, after the words" do mock thee thus ;" where it appears to me out of its place. MALONE.

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