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And Montague our Top-mat; what of hin?
Our flaughter'd Friends, the Tackles; what of these ?

Why is not Oxford here another Anchor ?
And Somerset, another goodly Mast?

The Friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?

And though un kiful, why not Ned and I,
For once allow'd the skilful Pilot's Charge?
We will not from the Helm to fit and weep,
But keep our Course, though the rough Wind fay no,
From Shelves and Rocks, that threaten us with Wrack,
As good to chide the Waves, as speak them fair.
And what is Edward, but a ruthless Sea?
What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit ?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal Rock?
All these, the Enemies to our poor Bark.
Say you can swim, alas, 'tis but a while;
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly fink;
Bestride the Rock, the Tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death.
This speak I, Lords, to let you understand,
In case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More than with ruthless Waves, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be avoided,
'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear,

Prince. Methinks a Woman of this valiant Spirit
Should, if a Coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his Breast with Magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foil a Man at Arms.
I speak not this, as doubting any here:
For did I but suspect a fearful Man,
He should have leave to go away betimes,
Lest in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like Spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart before we need his help.

Oxf. Women and Children of so high a Courage,
And Warriors faint! why 'twere perpetual Shame.
Oh brave young Prince! thy famous Grandfather
Doth live again in thee; long may'st thou live,

To bear his Image, and renew his Glories.

Som.

Som. And he that will not fight for fuch a Hope,

Go home to Bed, and like the Owl by Day,
If he arife, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

Queen. Thanks, gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thanks.
Prin. And take his Thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger..
Mef. Prepare you, Lords, for Edward is at hand,
Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

Oxf. I thought no less; it is his Policy,
To hafte thus fast, to find us unprovided.
Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness
Queen. This chears my Heart, to fee your forwardness.
Oxf. Here pitch our Bartel, hence we will not budge.
March. Enter King Edward, Glocefter, Clarence,

and Soldiers.

K. Edw. Brave Followers, yonder stands the thorny Wood, Which, by the Heav'ns Assistance, and your Strength, Must, by the Roots, be hewn up yet e'er Night. I need not add more Fuel to your Fire, For well I wor, ye blaze, to burn them out: Give Signal to the Fight, and to it, Lords.

Queen. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say, My Tears gain-fay; for every word I speak, Ye see I drink the Water of my Eye: Therefore, no more but this; Henry, your Sovereign, Is Prifonert the Foe, his State ufurp'd, His Realm a Slaughter-house, his Subje&s flain, His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent: And yonder is the Wolf, that makes this Spoil. You fight in Justice: Then in God's Name, Lords, Be valiant, and give Signal to the Fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions.

Enter King Edward, Glocefter, Clarence, &c. The Queen,

Oxford, and Somerset Prisoners.

K. Elw. Now here's a Period of tumultuous Broils.
Away with Oxford to Hammes Castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guilty Head.
Go bear them hence, I will not hear them speak.

Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with Patience to my Fortune.

[Exeunt. Queen. Queen. So part we fadly in this troublous World,

To meet with Joy in sweet Jerufalem.

K. Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward

Shall have a high Reward, and he his Life ?

Glo. It is, and lo where youthful Edward comes..

Enter the Prince of Wales.

K. Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let us hear him fpeak. What? can so young a Thorn begin to prick? Edward, what Satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing Arms, for stirring up my Subje&s, And all the Trouble thou hast turn'd me to? Prince. Speak like a Subject, proud ambitious York. Suppose that I am now my Father's Mouth, Resign thy Chair, and where I fstand, kneel thou, Whilst I propose the self-fame words to thee, Which, Traitor, thou would'st have me answer to, Queen. Ah! that thy Father had been so refolv'd. Glo. That you might still have worn the Petticoat, And ne'er have stoln the Breech from Lancaster. Prince. Let Afop Fable in a Winter's Night, His Currish Riddles fort not with his place.

Glo. By Heaven, Brat, I'll plague ye for that word. Queen. Ay, thou wast born to be a Plague to Men. Glo. For God's fake, take away this captive Scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crook-back, rather. K. Edw. Peace, wilful Boy, or I will charm your Tongue. Cla. Untutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my Duty, you are all undutiful: Lafcivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, And thou mif-shapen Dick, I tell ye all, I am your better, Traitors as ye are, And thou usurp'st my Father's Right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this Railer here.

Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy Agony.

[Stabs him.

[Rich. Stabs him.

[Clar. Stabs him.

Queen. Oh, kill me too!

Glo. Marry, and shall.

[Offers to kill her.

Clar. And there's for twitting me with Perjury.

K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.

Glo.

Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with words? K. Edw. What? doth she swoon? use Means for her Recovery.

Glo. Clarence, excuse me to the King my Brother: I'll hence to London on a serious Matter,

E'er ye come there, be sure to hear some News.

Clar. What? what?

Glo. Tower, the Tower.

[Exit.

Queen. Oh, Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy Mother, Boy.

Can'it thou not speak? O Traitors, Murderers!
They that stabb'd Cafar, shed no Blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
If this foul Deed were by, to equal it.
He was a Man; this (in respect) a Child,
And Men ne'er spend their Fury on a Child.
What's worse than Murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no, my Heart will burst, and if I speak-
And I will speak, that so my Heart may burst.
Butchers and Villains, bloody Cannibals,
How sweet a Plant have you untimely cropt:
You have no Children, Butchers; if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up Remorse;
But if you ever chance to have a Child,
Look in his Youth to have him fo cut off,

As deathsmen you have rid this sweet young Prince.
K. Edw. Away with her, go bear her hence by force.
Queen. Nay, never bear me hence, dispatch me here :
Hear theath thy Sword, I'll pardon thee my Death:
What? wilt thou not? then Clarence do it thou.

Clar. By Heaven, I will not do thee so much Eafe.
Queen. Good Clarence do, sweet Clarence do thou do it.
Clar. Did'st thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
Queen. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thy felf:

'Twas Sin before, but row 'tis Charity.

What, wilt thou not? where is that Devil's Butcher, Richard,
Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here: Murther is thy Almsdeed.
Petitioner for Blood thou ne'er pull'st back.

K. Edw. Away, I fay, I charge ye bear her hence.
Queen. So come to you and yours, as to this Prince.

[Exit Queen. K. Edw.

K. Edw. Where's Richard gone?
Cla. To London all in poft, and as I guess,

To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence, discharge the common fort
With pay and thanks, and let's away to London,
And fee our gentle Queen how well she fares.
By this, I hope, she hath a Son for me.

[Exeunt.

Enter King Henry, and Glocester, with the Lieutenant on the Tower Walls.

Glo. Good day, my Lord; what at your Book so hard? K. Henry. Ay, my good Lord; my Lord, I should say rather, 'Tis fin to flatter, Good was little better: Good Glo'ster, and good Devil, were alike, And both prepofterous; therefore, not Good Lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to our selves, we must confer.

[Exit Lieutenant.

K. Kenry. So flies the wreakless Shepherd from the Wolf, So first the harmless Flock doth yield his Fleece, And next his Throat unto the Butcher's Knife. What Scene of Death hath Roffius now to act? Glo. Sufpicion always haunts the guilty mind, The Thief doth fear each Bush an Officer.

K. Henry. The Bird that hath been limed in a Bush, With trembling Wings misdoubteth every Bush; And I, the helpless Male to one sweet Bird, Have now the fatal Object in my Eye, Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught and kill'd. Glo. Why what a peevish Fool was that of Creet, That taught his Son the Office of a Fowi? And yet, for all his Wings, the Fool was drown'd. K. Henry. I, Dedalus; my poor Boy, Icarus; Thy Father, Minos, that deny'd our course; The Sun that fear'd the Wings of my sweet Boy, Thy Brother Edward; and thy self, the Sea, Whose envious Gulf did swallow up his Life : Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with Words, By Breast can better brook thy Dagger's point, Than can my Eyes that tragick History. But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life? Glo. Think'st thou I am an Executioner?

K. Henry.

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