Hence with him to the Tower, let him not fpeak.

[Exit with King Henry. And Lords, towards Coventry bend we our Courfe, 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.

ACT V. SCENE 1.

Enter Warwick; the Mayor of Coventry, two Meffengers and others upon the Walls.

War. Here is the Poft that came from valiant Oxford?
How far hence is thy Lord, mine honeft Fellow?
1 Mief. By this at Dunfmore, marching hitherward.
War. How far off is our Brother Montague ?
Where is the Poft that came from Montague?

2 Mef. By this at Daintry, with a puissant Troop.

Enter Somervile.

War. Say Somervile, what fays my loving Son? And by thy guefs, how nigh is Clarence now? Somerv. At Southam I did leave him with his Forces, And do expect him here fome two hours hence. War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his Drum. Somerv. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes: The Drum your Honour hears, marcheth from Warwick. War. Who fhould that be? Belike, unlook'd for Friends.

Somerv. They are at hand, and you fhall quickly know.

March. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Gloucester, 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 Spight, is fportful Edward comes Where flept our Scouts, or how are they feduc'd, That we could hear no news of his K. Edw. Now Warwick, wilt thou ope the City Gates, Warwick, his repair? Speak gentle Words, and humbly bend thy Knee, Call Edward King, and at his Hands beg Mercy, And he fhall pardon thee thefe Outrages?

War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy Forces hence, Confefs who fet thee up, and pluck'd thee down Call Warwick Patron, and be penitent

And thou shalt ftill remain the Duke of York.

Glo. I thought at least he would have faid the King, Or did he make the Jeft against his will?

War. Is not a Dukedom, Sir, a goodly Gift? Glo. Ay, by my Faith, for a poor Earl to give: I'll do thee fervice for fo good a Gift?

War. 'Twas I that gave the Kingdom

to thy Brother. K. Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's Gift. Glo. Thou art no Atlas for fo great a weight: 'And Weakling, Warwick takes his Gift again, And Henry is my King, Warwick his Subject. K. Edw. But Warwick's King is Edward's Prisoner:'And gallant Warwick, do but answer this, What is the Body, when the Head is off?

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more fore-caft,
But whiles he thought to steal the fingle Ten,
The King was flily 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 fo, yet you are Warwick ftill.
Glo, Come Warwick,

Take the time, kneel down, kneel down:
Nay when; ftrike now, or else the Iron cools.
War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
And with the other filing it at thy Face,
Than bear fo low a Sail, to ftrike to thee.
K. Edw. Sail how thou canft,

Have Wind and Tide thy Friend,

This Hand, faft wound about thy Coal-black Hair,
Shall, whiles thy Head is warm, and new cut off,
Write in the Duft this Sentence with thy Blood,
Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.

Enter Oxford, with Drum and Colours.

War. O chearful Colours, fee where Oxford comes.
Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lansafter.

Glo. The Gates are open, let us enter too.
K. Edw. So other Foes may fet upon our Backs.
Stand we in good Array; for they no doubt

Will iffue out again, and bid us Battel:
If not, the City being but of fmall defence,
We'll quickly rouze the Traitors in the fame.
War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy help.

Enter Montague, with Drum and Colours,

Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster.

Glo. Thou and thy Brother both fhall buy this Treafon Even with the dearest Blood your Bodies bear. K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater Victory, My Mind prefageth happy Gain, and Conqueft.

Enter Somerfet, with Drum and Colours.

Som. Somerfet, Somerfet, for Lancaster.

Glo. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerfet,
Have fold their Lives unto the Houfe of York,
And thou shalt be the third, if this Sward hold.

Enter Clarence, with Drum and Colours.

War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along, Of force enough to bid his Brother Battel: 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.

Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this means? Look here, I throw my Infamy at thee:

I will not ruinate my Father's Houfe,

Who gave his Blood to lime the Stones together,
And fet up Lancaster. Why, troweft thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is fo harfh, fo blunt, unnatural,

To bend the fatal Inftruments of War
Against his Brother, and his lawful King?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy Oath:
To keep that Oath were more Impiety,
Than Fepthah's, when he facrific'd his Daughter.
I am fo forry for my Trefpafs made,
That to deferve well at my Brother's Hands,
I here proclaim my felf thy mortal Foe:
With Refolution, wherefoe'er I meet thee,

(A

(As I will meet thee, if thou ftir Abroad,) wood To plague thee for thy foul mif-leading me,

And fo proud-hearted Warwick, I defie thee, Loop Tow
And to my Brother turn my blufhing Cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends:
And Richard, do not frown upon my Faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconftant.

K.Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belov❜d, Than if thou never had'it deferv'd our Hate.

Glo Welcome, good Clarence, this is Brother-like.
War. O paffing Traitor, perjur'd and unjuft.
K. Edw. What Warwick,

Wilt thou leave the Town and fight?

Or fhall we beat the Stones about thine Ears?
War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:

I will away towards Barnet prefently,
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 Excurfions. 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?

Why ask I that? my mangled Body fhews,

My Blood, my want of Strength, my fick Heart fhews,
That I muft yield my Body to the Earth,

And by my fall, the conqueft to my Foe.
Thus yields the Cedar to the Ax's edge,
Whofe Arms gave fhelter to the Princely Eagle,
Under whofe fhade the ramping Lion flept,
Whole top-branch over-peer'd Jove's fpreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winter's powerful wind.

Thefe