War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted Friends, K. Henry. Farewel my Hector, and my Troy's true hope. [Exeunt. 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. 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? K. Edw. Seize on the fhame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence, [Exit with King Henry. And Lords, towards Coventry bend we our Course, 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. A CT V. SCENE I. [Exeunt. Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, and others upon the Walls. War. Here is the Poft that came from valiant Oxford? Where is thence is thy Lord, mine honeft Fellow? 1 Meff. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. War. Say Somervile, what fays my loving Son? And do expect him here fome two hours hence. F 2 War. War. Who should that be? Belike, unlook'd for Friends. Somerv. They are at hand, and you fhall quickly know. March. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Gloucefter, 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, War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy Forces hence, And thou shalt ftill remain the Duke of York. Glo. I thought at least he would have faid the King, War. 'Twas I that gave the Kingdom to thy Brother. And Weakling, Warwick takes his Gift again, K. Edw. But Warwick's King is Edward's Prifoner: Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more fore-cast, K. Edw. 'Tis even fo, yet you are Warwick still. Take the time, kneel down, kneel down: Nay when; ftrike now, or else the Iron cools. K. Edw K. Edw. Sail how thou canft, Have Wind and Tide thy Friend, This Hand, faft wound about thy Coal-black Hair, Glo. The Gates are open, let us enter too. If not, the City being but of fmall defence, Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster. Glo. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset, And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold. War. And lo, where George of Clarence fweeps along, 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, To bend the fatal Inftruments of War F 3 [Perhaps Perhaps thou wilt object my holy Oath: That to deferve well at my Brother's Hands, 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. Wilt thou leave the Town and fight? Or fhall we beat the Stones about thine Ears? 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. March. Warwick and his Company follows. [Exeunt. Alarum and Excursions. 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? My Blood, my want of Strength, my fick Heart fhews, Under |