Uuder whose shade the ramping Lion flept,
Whose top-branch over-peer'd Jove's fpreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winter's pow'rful Wind.
These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Death's black Veil, Have been as piercing as the Mid-day Sur,
To fearch the fecret Treafons of the World:
The wrinkles in my Brows, now fill'd with Blod,
Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchres:
For who liv'd King, but I could dig his Grave?
And who durft fmile, when Warwick bent his Brow?
Lo, now my Glory fmear'd in Duft and Blood,
My Parks, my Walks, my Manors that I had,
Even now forfake me; and of all my Lands,
Is nothing left me, but my Body's length.
Why, what is Pomp, Rule, Reign, but Earth and Duft?
And live we how we can, yet die we must.
Enter Oxford and Somerset.
Sem. Ah Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are,
We might recover all our Lofs again:
The Queen from France hath brought a puiffant Power,
Even now we heard the News: Ah, could'ft thou fly.
War. Why then I would not fly. Ah Montague,
If thou be there, fweet Brother, take my Hand,
And with thy Lips keep in my Soul a while.
Thou lov'ft me not; for, Brother, if thou didft,
Thy Tears would wash this cold congealed Blood,
That glews my Lips, and will not let me fpeak.
Come quickly Montague, or I am dead.
Som. Ah Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his laft,
And to the latest gafp, cry'd out for Warwick:
And faid, commend me to my valiant Brother.
And more he would have faid, and more he spoke,
And founded like a Cannon in a Vault,
That mought not be diftinguish'd; but at laft,
I well might hear delivered with a Groan,
O farewel Warwick.
War. Sweet reft his Soul;
Fly Lords, and fave your felves,
For Warwick bids you all farewel, to meet in Heaven. [Dies.
Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queen's great Power,
Here they bear away his Body.
Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Gloucester, Clarence, and the reft.
K. Edw. Thus far our Fortune keeps an upward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victory;
But in the midft of this bright-fhining Day,
I fpy a black fufpicious threatning Cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious Sun,
L'er he attain his eafeful Western Bed:
I mean, my Lords, thofe Powers that the Queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our Coaft,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
Clar. A little Gale will foon difperfe that Cloud,
And blow it to the Source from whence it came;
Thy very Beams will dry thofe Vapours up,
For every Cloud engenders not a Storm.
Glo. The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her;
If he hath time to breathe, be well affur'd
Her Faction will be full as ftrong as ours.
K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving Friends,
That they do hold their courfe toward Tewksbury.
We having now the beft at Barnet Fjeld,
Will thither ftraight, for willingness rids way,
And as we march, our ftrength will be augmented,
In every Country as we go along:
Strike up the Drum, cry Courage, and away.
March. Enter the Queen, Prince of Wales, Somerfet,
Oxford, and Soldiers.
Queen. Great Lords, wife Men ne'er fit and wail their But chearly feek how to redress their Hams.
What though the Maft be now blown over-board,
The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor loft,
And half our Sailors fwallow'd in the Flood?
Yet lives our Pilot ftill. 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 ftrength to that which hath too much,
Whiles in his moan, the Ship fplits on the Rock,
Which Industry and Courage might have fav'd?
Ah what a fhame, ah what a fault were this.
Say, Warwick was our Anchor; what of that?
And Montague our Top-mat; what of lin?
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 unski ful, 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 Courfe, 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-fand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal Rock?
All these, the Enemies to our poor Bark.
Say you can fwim, alas, 'tis but a while;
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly fink;
Beftride the Rock, the Tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death.
This fpeak I, Lords, to let you understand,
In cafe fome one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More than with ruthlefs 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 fpeak these words,
Infuse his Breaft with Magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foil a Man at Arms.
I speak not this, as doubting any here:
For did I but fuipèct a fearful Man,
He should have leave to go away betimes,
Left in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like Spirit to himself.
If any fuch be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart before we need his help.
Oxf. Women and Children of fo 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. 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 Meffenger.
Mef. Prepare you, Lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.
Oxf. I thought no lefs; it is his Policy,
To hafte thus faft, 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 Battel, hence we will not budge.
March. Enter King Edward, Glocefter, Clarence,
and Soldiers.
K. Edw. Brave Followers, yonder ftands the thorny Wood,
Which, by the Heav'ns Affiftance, and
your Strength,
Muft, by the Roots, be hewn up yet e'er Night.
I need not add more Fuel to your Fire,
For well I wot, ye blaze, to burn them out':
Give Signal to the Fight, and to it, Lords.
Queen. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I fhould fay, My Tears gain-fay; for every word I speak,
Ye fee I drink the Water of my Eye:
Therefore, no more but this; Henry, your Sovereign,
Is Prifoner to the Foe, his State ufurp'd,
His Realm a Slaughter-houfe, his Subje&s flain,
His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent :
And yonder is the Wolf, that makes this Spoil.
You fight in Juftice: 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 Somerfet Prifoners.
K. Edw. Now here's a Period of tumultuous Broils.
Away with Oxford to Hammes Castle straight a
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 1, but ftoop with Patience to my Fortune.
Queen. So part we fadly in this troublous World, To meet with Joy in fweet 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 speak.
What? can fo young a Thorn begin to prick?
Edward, what Satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing Arms, for ftirring up my Subjects,
And all the Trouble thou haft turn'd me to?
Prince. Speak like a Subject, proud ambitious York.
Suppofe that I am now my Father's Mouth,
Refign thy Chair, and where I ftand, kneel thou,
Whilft I propose the felf-fame words to thee,
Which, Traitor, thou would't have me answer to.
Queen. Ah! that thy Father had been fo refolv'd.
Glo. That you might ftill have worn the Petticoat,
And ne'er have ftoln the Breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let Alop Fable in a Winter's Night,
His Currish Riddles fort not with his place.
Glo. By Heaven, Brat, I'il plague ye for that word.
Queen. Ay, thou waft born to be a Plague to Men.
Glo. For God's fake, take away this captive Scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this fcolding 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-fhapen Dick, I tell ye all,
I am your better, Traitors as ye are.
And thou ufurp'ft my Father's Right and mine.
K. Edw. Take that, thou likeness of this Railer here.
Glo. Sprawl'ft thou? take that, to end thy Agony.
Clar. And there's for twitting me with Perjury.
K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.
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