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The lamb will never cease to follow him.
[Shout within A Lancaster! a Lancafter ! s Exe. Hark, hark, my Lord, what shouts are these?
Enter King Edward, and bis 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 makes small brooks to flow, Now stops thy spring, my sea shall suck them dry, And swell so much the higher by their ebb. -Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speak.
[Ex. with King Henry, And, Lords, to Coventry bend we our course, Where peremptory Warwick now remains. The sun shines hot; and if we use 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 tow'rds Coventry.
2 Shout within. A Lancaster ! did not write the marginal diSurely the shouts that ushered rections, and the players conking Edward should be a York, founded the charaders. a rork. I suppose the authour
ACT V. SCENE I.
Before the Town of Coventry. Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two Mefe
fengers and others, upon the walls.
HERE is the Post, that came from valiant
1 Mes. By this ar Dunsmore, marching hither-ward. War. How far off is our brother Montague ? - Where is the Post, that came from Montague ? 2 Mes. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.
Enter Somerville. War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving fon? And by thy guess how nigh is Clarence now?
Somerv. At Soutbam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here fonie two hours hence.
War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum.
Somerv. It is not his, my Lord; here Soutbam lies. The drum your Honour hears, marcheth from War
wick. War. Who should that be? belike, unlook'd for
friends. Somerv. They are at hand, and you shall quickly
March. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Gloucester,
K. Edw. Go, trumpet to the walls, and found a
Glo. See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.
War. Oh, unbid spight! is sportful Edward come?
War. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
War. Is not a Dukedom, Sir, a goodly gift?
Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor Earl to give ;
War. 'Twas I that gave the Kingdom to thy brother.
K. Edw. But Warwick's King is Edward's prisoner ;
Glo. Alas! that Warwick had no more fore-cast,
K. Edw. 'Tis even fo; yet you are Warwick still.
And with the other Aing it at thy face,
thy friend ;
Enter Oxford, with drum and colours.
War. O chearful colours ! fee, where Oxford comes !
K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our backs.
War. o, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.
Enter Montague, with drum and colours.
Mont. Montague! Montague ! for Lancaster !
K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory : My mind prefageth happy gain and conquest.
Enter Somerset, with drum and colours.
Glo. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Enter Clarence, with drum and colours. War. And lo! where George of Clarence fweeps
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 call[A Parley is founded ; Richard and Clarence whisper
together; and then Clarence takes his red rose out of
bis hat, and throws it at Warwick. ] } Cla. 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 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 jephthab's, when he facrific'd his daughter. I am so sorry for my trespass made, That, to deserve well at my brother's hands, I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe; With resolution, wherefoe'er I meet thee, As I will meet thee, if thou ftir abroad, To plague thee for thy foul mis-leading me. And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee, And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks. -Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends;
3 À Parley is founded, &c.] Look, here, I throw my Infamy This Note of Direction I restor
THEOBALD. ed from the old Quarto. And, * to lime the fones] That without it, it is imposible that is, to cement the stones. Lime any Reader can guess at the makes mortar. Meaning of this Line of Cla
† Blunt.] Stupid, insensible
of paternal fondness. VOL. V.