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

This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,
Shall, whiles 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. War. O cheerful colours ! see, where Oxford comes ! Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster !

[OXFORD and his Forces enter the City. Glo. 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 dearest 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 means:

[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,

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I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe;
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad,)
To plague 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

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 bere for defence : I will away towards Barnet presently, And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar’st. K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the

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

[March. Ereunt.

SCENE II.-A Field of Battle near Barnet.

Alarums, and Excursions. Enter King EDWARD, bring

ing in WARWICK wounded. K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our


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. [Erit.

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 eagle,
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,
To search the secret treasons of the world :
The wrinkles in my brows, now filld with blood,
Were liken’d oft 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'd 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 not fly.-Ah, Montague, If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while ! 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 delivered with a groan,-
O, farewell, Warwick!

War. Sweet rest to his soul !-
Fly, lords, and save yourselves : for Warwick bids
You all farewell, to meet again in heaven.

[Dies. Oxf. Away, 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; with CLA

RENCE, GLOSTER, and the rest. K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course, 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,

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