Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee,
Call Edward King, and at his hands beg mercy?
And he shall pardon thee these outrages.

War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down,
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent?
And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.

Glo. I thought at least he would have said the King, Or did he make the jest against his will ?

War. Is not a Dukedom, Sir, a goodly gift? Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor Earl to give : I'll do thee service for so good a gift.

War. 'Twas I that gave the Kingdom to thy brother. K. Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift.

War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: And, weakling! Warwick takes his gift again, And Henry is my King, Warwick his subject.

K. Edw. But Warwick's King is Edward's prisoner:
And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this,
What is the body when the head is off?

Glo. Alas! that Warwick had no more fore-cast,
But while he thought to steal the single ten,
The King was sily finger'd from the deck :
You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace,
And ten to one you'll meet him in the Tower.

K. Edw. 'Tis even fo, yet you are Warwick ftill.

Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel down, kneel Nay, when? strike now, or else the iron cools. [down:

War. I'd rather chop this hand off at a blow,
And with the other filing it at thy face,
Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.

[friend,
K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy
This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,
Shall, while thy head is warm and new cut off,
Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,
Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.

SCENE

S C Ε Ν Ε II.
Enter Oxford, with Drum and Colours.
War. O chearful colours! see where Oxford comes !
Oxf. Oxford! Oxford! for Lancaster.
Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.

K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our backs.
Stand we in good array; for they no doubt
Will issue out again and bid us battel :
If not, the city being of small defence,
We'll quickly rouze the traitors in the same.
War. o, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.

Enter Montague, with Drum and Colours.
Mont. Montague ! Montague! for Lancaster,

Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason Ev'n with the dearest blood your bodies bear.

K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory; My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.

Enter Somerset, with Drum and Colours.
Som. Somerset! Somerset ! for Lancaster.

Glo. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Have sold their lives unto the house of York,
And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.

Enter Clarence, with Drum and Colours.
War. And lo! where George of Clarence sweeps along,
Of force enough to bid his brother battel:
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails
More than the nature of a brother's love.
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call.

Cla. Father of Warwick, know you what this means ? Look here, I throw my infamy at thee:

(Takes his red rose out of his hat and throws

it towards Warwick. I will not ruinate my father's house,

(Who

(Who gave his blood to lime the stones together)
And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother, and his lawful King?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath :
To keep that oath were more impiety,
Than feptbah's, when he facrific'd his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass made,
That to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim my self thy mortal foe:
With resolution, wherefoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,)
To plague thee for thy foul mis-leading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defie thee,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends:
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconftant.
K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more

belov’d,
Than if thou never hadst deferv'd our hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is brother-like.
War. O palling traitor, perjur'd and unjust!
K. Edw. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town

and fight?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?

War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence : I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid the battel, Edward, if thou dar'ft. (way:

K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the Lords! to the field; St. George and victory! [Exeunt,

March. Warwick and his Company follow.

SCENE

Alarum and Excursions. Enter King Edward bringing

forth Warwick wounded. K. Edw.S.: lyg thou there; die thou, and die our fear ;

For Warwick a Now, Montague, sit fast, I seek for thee, That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. [Exit.

War. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe, And tell me who is victor, York, or Warwick ? Why ask I that? my mangled body shews, My blood, my want of strength, my fick heart shews, That I must yield my body to the earth, And by my fall, the conquest to my foe. Thus yields the Cedar, to the ax's edge, Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle, Under whose shade the ramping lion Nept, Whose top-branch over-peer'd fove's spreading tree, And kept low fhrubs from winter's pow’rful wind. These eyes that now are dimm'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day fun, To search the fecret treasons of the world. The wrinkles in my brow, now filld with blood, Were lik’ned oft to kingly fepulchres : For who liv’d King, but I could dig his grave? And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow? Lo, now my glory fmcar'd in duft and blood, My parks, my walks, my manors that I had, Ev'n now forsake me; and of all my lands Is nothing left me, but my body's length, Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust? And live we how we can, yet die we must.

Enter

Enter Oxford and Somerset. Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are, We might recover all our loss again : The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power. Ev'n now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou Hy!

War. Why then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while. Thou lov'ft'me not; for, brother, if thou didft, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood, That glews my lips, and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

Som. Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his last, And to the latest gasp cry'd out for Warwick : And said, Commend me to my valiant brotber. And more he would have said, and more he spoke, Which founded like a cannon in a vault, That might not be distinguish'd; but at last I well might hear deliver'd with a groan, Ob! farewel, Warwick!

War. Sweetly reft his foul ! Fly, Lords, and save your felves, for Warwick bids You all farewel, to meet again in heaven. [Dies. Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queen's great power.

They bear away bis Body, and Exeunt.

Another part of the Field. Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Gloucester,

Clarence, and the rest. K. Edw. .

HUS far our fortune keeps an upward course, But in the midst of this bright-shining day, I spy a black, suspicious, threat-ning cloud,

That