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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 the

brother.
K. Edw. Why, then 'tis mine, if but by War-

wick's gift.
War. Thou art no Atlas for so great & weight:
And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again;
And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject,

K. Edw. But Warwick's kingisEdward'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 forecast,
But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,
The king was slily 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 so; yet you are Warwick still.
Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time, kneel down,

kneel down :
Nay, when ? strike now, or else the iron cools.

War. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,
And with the other fling it at thy face,
Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thee.
K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and

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

Enter OXFORD, with drum and colours.
Wur. O cheerful colours ! see, where Oxford

comes ! Oxy. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!

[0xford and his Forces enter the city. el. The gates are open, let us enter too.

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Call Edvard-king, and at his hands beg mercy,
And he shall parden 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 ears to give; I'll do thee service for so good

a gift. War

. 'Twas I, that gave the kingdom to the

brother
X. Edw. Why, then 'tis mine, if but by

wick's gift.
Iar. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again ;
And Heary is my king, Warwick his subject

.
K.Ed. But Warwick's king isEdward'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 forecast
But, while he thought to steal the single te,
The king was slily 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.
Glo. Come, Warsvick, take the time, kueel down,

kneel down:
Nay, when strike now, or else the iron cools.

Wur. I had rather chap this hand off at a blow
And with the other fling it at thy face,
Than bear so low a sail, to strike to thes.
K. Edw. Sail hos thou canst, hare wind and

tide thy friend;
This hand, fast wound about thy coul-black hair,

Shall, while the head is warm, and new cat o Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood, Wind-changing Warwick now can change no sore

Enter OXFORD, with drum and colours War. O cheerful colours ! see, where Oxford Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!

(Oxford and his forces enter the ally El. 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 battle :
If not, the city being but of small defence,
We'll quickly rouse 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!

He and his Forces enter the city. Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this

treason Even with the dearsest 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!

[He and his Forces enter the city.
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 battle ;
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails,
More than the nature of a brother's love :-
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick calls.
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this

s? [Taking the red rose out of his cap.
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee :
I will not ruinate my father's house,
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 Jephtha's when he sacrific'd his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass made,
That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe;
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,

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To plagae thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy 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 unconstant.
K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more

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

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like.
War. O passing 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 Barpet presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.
X. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads

the way
Lords,
the field ; Saint George, and victory.

[March. Exeunt.
SCENE II.

A field of battle near Barnet.
Alarums, and Excursions. Enter King EDWARD,

bringing in Warwick wounded.
K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die

our fear;
For Warwick was a bug, that fear'd us all.
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 shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows,
That I must yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely engle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept;
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black

veil,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,

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To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thes,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends;
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
Por I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
K. Edo. Now welcome more, and ten times

belor'd,
Than if thou never hadst desery'd our hate.
Glo. Welcome, goodClarence; this is brother-like.
War. O passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust!
K. Ed. 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 battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.
X. Ede. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads

the way :-
Lords, to the field; Saint George, and victory.

To search the secret treasons of the world :
The wrinkles in my brows,

now fill'd with blood,
Were liken'd off to kingly sepulchres ;
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile, when

Warwick bent his brow?
Lo, now my glory smear'a in dust and blood!
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Even 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 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;
Even now we heard the news : Ah, could'st thou fly!

War. Why, then I would notfly.-Ah, Montague,
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!
Thou lov'st me not ; for, brother, if thou didst,
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, cried out for Warwick,
And said-Commend me to my valiant brother.
And more he would have said; and more he spoke,
Which sounded like a cannon in a vault,
That might not be distinguish'd; but, at last,
I well might hear deliver'd with a groan,
0, farewell, Warwick!
War.

Sweet rest his soul!

Fly, lords, and save yourselves; for Warwick bids You all farewell, to meet again in heaven. (Dies. Oxf. A way, away, to meet the queen's great power! (Exeunt, bearing off Warwick's body.

SCENE III.

Another part of the field.
Flourish. Enter King EDWARD in triumph:

rrith CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and the rest.
K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward

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SCENE II.

A feld of battle near Barnd.
Alarums, and Excursions. Enter King EDWARD,

bringing in Warwick sounded.
K. Edo. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die

our fear;
For Warwick was a bug, that fear'd us all-
Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
That Warwick's bones may keep thine compare

War. Ah, who is nigh ! come to me, friend, or fee-
And tell me, who is victor, York or Warwiek!
Why ask I that! my mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows,

That I must yield any body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept;

Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading til
And kept lost shrubs from winter's powerful wiad.
These eyes, that now are dimmd with death's bleek

veil,
Have beeu as piercing as the mid-day sang

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And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ire he attain his easeful western bed :
I mean, my lords,-those powers, that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

Clar. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud,
And blow it to the source from whence it came :
Thy very beams will dry those vapours up;
For every cloud engenders not a storm,

Glo. The queen is valu'd thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her ;
If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd,
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends,
That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury;
We, having now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;
And, as we march, our strength will be augmented
In every county as we go along.
Strike up the drum; cry-Courage ! and away.

[Eseunt.
SCENE IV.

Plains near Tewksbury.
March. Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince ED-
WARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers.
2. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail

their loss,
Bat cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown over-board,
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood ?
Yet lives our pilot still: Is't meet, that he
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad,
With tearful eyes add water to the sea,
And give more strength to that, which hath too much;
Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,
Which industry and courage might have sav'd!
Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor ; What of that?
And Montague our top-mast; What of him?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; What of these !
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor
And Somerset another goodly mast?

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