ACT V. SCENE I.

Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers and others, upon the walls.

W

WARWICK.

HERE is the post that came from vali ant Oxford?

How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?

I Mef. By this at Dunsmore, marching hither-ward.

War. How far off is our brother Montague? Where is the poft that came from Montague? 2 Mef. By this at Daintry, with a puiffant troop.

Enter Somervile.

War. Say Somervile, what fays my loving fon? And by thy guess how nigh is Clarence now? Somerv. At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here fome two hours hence. War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum. Somerv. It is not his, my lord: here Southam lyes : The drum your honour hears, marcheth from Warwick.

War. Who fhould that be belike, unlook'd-for

friends.

Somery. They are at hand, and you shall quickly

know.

March.

་་

March. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Glocefter, and

Soldiers.

K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and found a
parle.

Glo. See how the furly Warwick mans the wall.
War. Oh unbid fpight! is fportful Edward come?
Where flept our scouts, or how are they feduc'd,
That we could hear no news of his repair?

K. Edw. Now Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates,
Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee,
Call Edward King, and at his hands beg mercy ?
And he fhall pardon thee thefe outrages.

War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confefs who fet thee up and pluck'd thee down,
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent?

And thou fhalt still remain the Duke of York.

Glo. I thought at least he would have faid the King,
Or did he make the jeft againft 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 fervice for fo 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 fo great a weight:
And weakling, Warwick takes his gift again,

And Henry is my King, Warwick his fubject.

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

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more fore-çaft,
But while he thought to fteal the fingle ten,
The King was flily 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 still.

Glo. Come Warwick, take the time, kneel down, kneel down :

Nay when? ftrike now, or elfe the iron cools.
War. I'd rather chop this hand off at a blow,
And with the other fling it at thy face,

Then bear fo low a fail to ftrike to thee.

K. Edw. Sail how thou canft, have wind and tide thy friend,

This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,
Shall, while thy head is warm and new cut off,
Write in the duft this fentence with thy blood,
Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.

Enter Oxford, with Drum and Colours.

War. O chearful colours, fee where Oxford comes !
Oxf. Oxford! Oxford! for Lancaster!

Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.
K. Edw. So other foes may fet upon our backs.
Stand we in good array; for they no doubt
Will iffue out again and bid us battel:
If not, the city being of fmall defence,
We'll quickly rouze the traitors in the fame.
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 fhall buy this treason Ev'n with the dearest blood your bodies bear. K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory, My mind prefageth happy gain and conquest.

Enter Somerset, with Drum and Colours.

Som. Somerfet! Somerfet! for Lancaster.
Glo. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Have fold their lives unto the house of York,
And thou shalt be the third, if this fword hold.

Enter

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

I will not ruinate my father's house,

Who gave his blood to lime the ftones together,
And fet up Lancaffer. Why, trow't thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is fo harfh, fo blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal inftruments of war

Against his brother, and his lawful King?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath :
To keep that oath were more impiety,
Than Jepthah's, when he facrific'd his daughter.
I am fo forry for my trefpafs made,

That to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim my felf thy mortal foe:
With refolution, wherefoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou ftir abroad,)
To plague thee for thy foul mif-leading me.
And fo 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 hadft deferv'd our hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is brother-like.
War. O paffing traitor, perjur'd and unjust!

K. Edw. What Warwick, wilt thou leave the town

and fight?

Or fhall we beat the ftones about thine ears?

War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence: I will away towards Barnet presently,

And bid thee battel, Edward, if thou dar'ft.

K. Edw. Yes Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the

way:

Lords to the field; St. George and victory.

[Exeunt.

March. Warwick and his Company follows.

.5.7

SCENE III.

BARNET.C

Alarm and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwick wounded.

R. Edw. S2 lye chou, there's die thou, and die our

For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.
Now Montague fit faft, I feek 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 fhews,

My blood, my want of ftrength, my fick heart fhews,
That I muft yield my body to the earth,

And by my fall, the conqueft to my foe.
Thus yields the Cedar to the ax's edge,

Whofe arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whofe fhade the ramping lion flept,

Whofe top-branch over-peer'd Jove's spreading tree,
And kept low fhrubs from winter's pow'rful wind.
Thefe eyes that now are dim'd with death's black veil,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day fun,
To fearch the fecret treafons of the world?
The wrinkles in my brow, now fill'd with blood,
Were lik'ned oft to kingly fepulchres:
For who liv'd King, but I could dig his grave?

And