War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted Friends,
Not mutinous in Peace, yet bold in War,
Those will I muster up; and thou, Son Clarence,
Shalt ftir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee.
Thou Brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicester fhire falt find
Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'st.
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd,
In Oxfordshire fhalt mufter up thy Friends.
My Soveraign, with the loving Citizens,
Like to his Inland, girt with th' Ocean,
Or modeft Dian, circled with her Nymphs,
Shall reft in London, 'till we come to him:
Fair Lords take leave, and ftand not to reply.
Farewel my Soveraign.

K. Henry. Farewel my Hector, and my Troy's true hope. Clar. In fign of truth, I kiss your Highnels Hand. K. Henry. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate. Mont. Comfort, my Lord, and fo I take my leave. Oxf. And thus I feal my Truth, and bid adieu. K. Henry. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague, And all at once, once more a happy farewel. War. Farewel, fweet Lords, let's meet at Coventry.

K. Henry. Here at the Palace will I reft a while. Coufin of Exeter, what thinks your Lordship? Methinks, the Power that Edward hath in Field, Should not be able to encounter mine.

Exeunt.

Exe. The doubt is, that he will feduce the reft. K. Henry. That's not my fear, my meed hath got me fame : I have not stopt mine Ears to their demands, Nor pofted off their Suits with flow delays, My pity hath been Balm to heal their Wounds, My mildness hath allay'd their fwelling Griefs, My mercy dry'd their water-flowing Tears. I have not been defirous of their Wealth, Nor much oppreft them with great Subfidies, Nor forward of Revenge, though they much err'd. Then why should they love Edward more than me? No, Exeter, thefe Graces challenge Grace:

And

And when the Lion fawns upon the Lamb,

The Lamb will never ceafe to follow him.

[Shout within. A Lancaster! a Lancaster!

Exe. Hark, hark, my Lord, what Shouts are these?
Enter King Edward and his Soldiers.

K. Edw. Seize on the shame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence,
And once again proclaim us King of England.
You are the Fount, that make fmall Brooks to flow,
Now ftops thy Spring, my Sea fhall fuck them dry,
And fwell fo much the higher, by their ebb.
Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speak.

[Exit with King Henry. And Lords, towards Coventry bend we our Courie, Where peremptory Warwick now remains: The Sun fhines hot, and if we ufe delay, Cold biting Winter mars our hop'd-for Hay. Glo. Away betimes before his Forces join, And take the great grown Traitor unawares: Brave Warriors, march amain towards Coventry.

ACT V. SCENE I.

[Exeunt.

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

Here is the Poft that came from valiant Oxford?

War W flew far hence is thy Lord, mine honeft Fellow

1 Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. War. How far off is our Brother Montague? Where is the Poft that came from Montague?

2 Meff. By this at Daintry, with a puiffant Troop.
Enter Somervile.

War. Say Somervile, what fays my loving Son?
And by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
Somery. 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.

F 2

War.

War. Who fhould that be? Belike, unlook'd for Friends, Somerv. They are at hand, and you fhall quickly know. March. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Gloucester, 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 seduc'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 these Outrages;

War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw hy Forces hence,
Confefs who set thee up, and pluck'd thee down,
Call Warwick Patron, and be Penitent,

And thou shalt ftill remain the Duke of York.

Glo. I thought at leaft he would have faid the King, Or did he make the Jeft 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 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 Subje&.

K. Edw. But Warwick's King is Edward's Prisoner:
And gallant Warwick, do but anfwer this,
What is the Body, when the Head is off?

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more fore-cast,
But whiles 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 had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
And with the other fling it at thy Face,
Than bear fo low a Sail, to strike to thee.

K. Edw

K. Edw. Sail how thou canft,

Have Wind and Tide thy Friend,

This Hand, faft wound about thy Coal-black Hair,
Shali, while thy Head is warm, and new cut off,
Write in the Duft, this Sentence 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.
Stad we in good Array; for they no doubt
Will iffue out again, and bid us Battel:

If not, the City being but of small defence,
We'll quickly rouze the Traitors in the fame.
War. Oh 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
Even with the dearest Blood your Bodies bear.
K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater Victory,
My Mind prefageth happy Gain, and Conquest.
Enter Someriet, with Drum and Colours.

Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster.

Glo. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Have fold their Lives unto the House of Tork,

And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold.
Enter Clarence, with Drum and Colours.

War. And lo, where George of Clarence (weeps 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 Stones together,
And fet up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is fo harfh, fo blunt, unnatural,

To bend the fatal Inftruments of War
Against his Brother, and his lawful King.

F 3

{Perhaps

Perhaps thou wilt object my holy Oath:
To keep that Oath were more Impiety,
Than Jepthah, when he facrific'd his Daughter.
I am fo forry for my Trefpafs made,

That to deferve 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 had'ft deferv'd my Hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is Brother-like.
War. O pathing Traitor, perjur'd and unjust.
K. Edw. What Warwick,

Wilt thou leave the Town and fight?

Or fhall we beat the Stones about thine Ears?
War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:

I will away towards Barnet prefently,

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..

March. Warwick and his Company follows.

Exeunt.

Alarum and Excurfions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwick wounded.

K. Edw. So, lye thou there; die thou, and die our fear, 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 Strength, 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 fhelter to the Princely Eagle,

Under