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Nay, whom they fhall obey, and love thee too,
Unless they feek for hatred at my Hands:
Which if they do, yet will I keep thee fafe,
And they fhall feel the Vengeance of my Wrath.
Glo. I hear, yet fay not much, but think the more.
Enter a Poft.

K. Edw. Now Meffenger, what Letters, or what News from France?

Poft. My Sovereign Liege, no Letters, and few Words, But fuch as I (without your fpecial pardon)

Dare not relate.

K. Edw. Go too, we pardon thee:
Therefore, in brief, tell their Words;
As near as thou canft guess them.

What anfwer makes King Lewis unto our Letters ?
Poft. At my depart thele were his very Words;
Go tell falfe Edward, thy fuppofed King,
That Lewis of France is fending over Maskers,

To revel it with him, and his new Bride,

K. Edw. Is Lewis fo brave? belike he thinks me Henry. But what faid Lady Bona to my Marriage?

Poft. Thefe were her Words, utter'd with mild Disdain : Tell him, in hope he'll prove a Widower fhortly,

I'll wear the Willow Garland for his fake

K. Edw. I blame not her, she could fay little lefs; She had the wrong. But what faid Henry's Queen? For fo I heard that he was there in place.

Poft. Tell him (quoth the)

My mourning Weeds are done,

And I am ready to put Armour on.

K. Edw. Belike the means to play the Amazon. But what faid Warwick to thefe Injuries?

Poft. He, more incens'd against your Majefty Than all the reft, difcharg'd me with thefe Words; Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong, And therefore I'll uncrown him e'er't be long.

K. Edw. Ha? durft the Traitor breathe out so proud

Well, I will arm me, being thus fore-warn'd:


They shall have Wars, and pay for their Prefumption,

But fay, is Warwick Friends with Margaret?


Poft. Ay, gracious Sovereign,

They are folink'd in Friendship,

That young Prince Edward marries Warwick's Daughter.

Clar. Belike the elder;

Clarence will have the younger.

Now Brother King farewel, and fit you faft,
For I will hence to Warwick's other Daughter,
That though I want a Kingdom, yet in Marriage
I may not prove inferior to your self.

You that love me, and Warwick, follow me.

Glo. Not I:

[Exit Clarence, and Somerset follows.

My Thoughts aim at a further Matter:

I ftay not for the love of Edward, but the Crown. [Afide.
K. Edw. Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwick?
Yet I am arm'd against the worst can happen;
And hafte is needful in this defp'rate Cafe.
Pembrook and Stafford, you in our behalf
Go levy Men, and make prepare for War;
They are already, or quickly will be landed:
My felf in Perfon will straight follow you.

Exit Pembrook and Stafford.

But e'er I go, Haftings and Montague
Refolve my doubt, you twain of all the rest
Are near to Warwick, by Blood and by Alliance;
Tell me, if you love Warwick more than me;
If it be fo, then both depart to him:

I rather with you Foes than hollow Friends.
But if you mind to hold your true Obedience,
Give me Affurance with fome friendly Vow,
That I may never have you in fufpect.

Mon. So God help Montague, as he proves true.
Haft. And Haftings, as he favours Edward's Caufe.
K. Edw. Now, Brother Richard, will you ftand by us?
Glo. Ay, in defpight of all that fhall withftand you.
K. Edw. Why fo; then am I fure of Victory.
Now therefore let us hence, and lofe no hour,
Till we meet Warwick, with his Foreign Power.

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Enter Warwick and Oxford in England, with French


War. Trust me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well,
The common People by numbers fwarm to us.
Enter Clarence and Somerfet.

But fee where Somerset and Clarence come;
Speak fuddenly, my Lords, are we all Friends?
Clar. Fear not that, my Lord.

War. Then gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick,
And welcome Somerset: I hold it Cowardize,
To reft mistrustful, where a Noble Heart

Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in fign of Love:
Elfe might I think, that Clarence, Edward's Brother,
Were but a feigned Friend to our Proceedings.

But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter fhall be thine,
And now, what refts? but in Night's Coverture,
Thy Brother being carelefly encamp'd,

His Soldiers lurking in the Town about,
And but attended by a fimple Guard,
We may furprize and take him at our pleasure,
Our Scouts have found the Adventure very eafie:
That as Ulyffes, and stout Diomede

With flight and manhood ftole to Rhesus' Tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal Steeds;
So we, well covered with the Night's black Mantle,
At unawares may beat down Edward's Guard,
And feize himself: I fay not, flaughter him,
For I intend but only to furprize him.

You that will follow me to this Attempt,
Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.

[They all cry Henry.

Why then, let's on our way in filent fort,
For Warwick and his Friends, God and Saint George.

Enter the Watchmen to guard the King's Tent.


1 Watch. Come on, my Mafters, each Man take his Stand,

The King by this has fet him down to fleep.

2 Watch. What, will he not to Bed?

Watch. Why no; for he hath made a folemn Vow,

Never to lye and take his natural Reft,

Till Warwick, or himself, be quite fuppreft.

2 Watch.

2 Watch. To morrow then belike fhall be the Day, If Warwick be fo near as Men report.

3 Watch. But fay,I pray, what Nobleman is that, That with the King here refteth in his Tent?

I Watch. 'Tis the Lord Haftings, the King's chiefeft Friend. 3 Watch. O, is it fo? but why commands the King, That his chief Followers lodge in Towns about him, While he himself keeps in the cold Field?

2 Watch. 'Tis the more Honour, because the more dangerous. 3 Watch. Ay, but give me worship and quietness, I like it better than a dangerous Honour.

If Warwick knew in what Eftate he stands, 'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.

I Watch. Unless our Halberds did hut up his Paffage. 2 Watch. Ay; wherefore elfe guard we this Royal Tent, But to defend his Perfon from Night-foes?

Enter Warwick, Clarence, Oxford, Somerfet, and French Soldiers, filent all.

War. This is his Tent, and fee where ftands his Guard: Courage, my Mafters: Honour now or never: But follow me, and Edward (hall be ours.

I Watch. Who goes there?

2 Watch. Stay, or thou dieft.

[Warwick and the reft cry all, Warwick, Warwick, and fet upon the Guard, who fly, crying, Arms, Arms, Warwick and the reft following them.

The Drum beating, and Trumpets founding.

Enter Warwick, Somerset, and the reft, bringing the King out in a Gown, fitting in a Chair; Glo'ster and Haftings flying over the Stage.

Som. What are they that fly there?

War. Richard and Haftings, let them go, here is the Duke. K. Edw. The Duke!

Why Warwick, when we parted

Thou call'dft me King?

War. Ay, but the cafe is alter'd.

When you difgrac'd me in my Embaffade,
Then I degraded you from being King,
And come now to create you Duke of York.
Alas, how fhould you govern any Kingdom,
That know not how to ufe Ambaffadors,


Nor how to be contented with one Wife,
Nor how to use your Brothers brotherly,
Now how to study for the People's Welfare,
Nor how to fhrowd your felf from Enemies.
K. Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,

Art thou here too?

Nay then I fee, that Edward muft needs down.
Yet Warwick, in defpight of all Mifchance,
Of thee thy felf, and all thy Complices,
Edward will always bear himself as King:
Though Fortune's Malice overthrow my State,
My Mind exceeds the Compafs of her Wheel.
War. Then for his Mind be Edward England's King.
[Takes off his Crown.
But Henry now fhall wear the English Crown,
And be true King indeed; thou but a Shadow.
My Lord of Somerset, at my requeft,

See that forthwith Duke Edward be convey'd
Unto my Brother Archbishop of York:

When I have fought with Pembrook, and is Fellows,
I'll follow you, and tell what anfwer

Lewis and the Lady Bona fend to him.

Now for a while farewel good Duke of York.

[They lead him out forcibly K. Edw. What Fates impose, that Men must needs abide;

It boots not to refift both Wind and Tide.


Oxf. What now remains, my Lords, for us to do,

But march to London with our Soldiers?

War. Ay, that's the first thing that we have to do,
To free King Henry from Imprifonment,
And see him seated in the Regal Throne.

Enter Rivers, and the Lady Gray.


Riv. Madam, what makes you in this fudden change? La. Gray. Why Brother Rivers, are you yet to learn What late Misfortune has befaln King Edward?

Riv. What! lofs of fome pitcht Battel

Against Warwick?

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La. Gray. No, but the loss of his own Royal Perfon.
Riv. Then is my Sovereign flain? ›

La. Gray. Ay, almost flain, for he is taken Prifoner.
Either betray'd by falfhood of his Guard,


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