Had slipp'd our claim until another age. George. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy spring, 'And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root; And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, 'Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike; 'We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods. Ed. And, in this resolution, I defy thee; Not willing any longer conference, Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak. Sound trumpets!-let our bloody colors wave!- Q. Mar. Stay, Edward. Ed. No, wrangling woman; we'll no longer stay: These words will cost ten thousand lives to-day. SCENE III. [Exeunt. A field of battle between Towton and Saxton in York shire. Enter WARWICK. Alarums. Excursions. War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe : For strokes received, and many blows repaid, Enter EDWARD, running. Ed. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death! For this world frowns, and Edward's clouded. sun is War. How now, my lord? what hap? what hope " of good? Enter GEORGE. George. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us. What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? 'Ed. Bootless is flight; they follow us with wings; And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit. Enter RICHARD. Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, 'Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance; 'And, in the very pangs of death, he cried,— Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,— 'Warwick, revenge! brother, revenge my death!' 'So underneath the belly of their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, • The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. " Why stand we like soft-hearted women here, Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; "And look upon, as if the tragedy "Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? Till either death hath closed these eyes of mine, Or fortune given me measure of revenge. Ed. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; 'And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.— And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face, "I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter-up and plucker-down of kings! Beseeching thee,-if with thy will it stands, That to my foes this body must be prey,— Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, And give sweet passage to my sinful soul! Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where'er it be, in heaven or on earth. Rich. Brother, give me thy hand;—and, gentle Warwick, Let me embrace thee in my weary arms. I, that did never weep, now melt with woe, farewell. George. Yet let us all together to our troops, And give them leave to fly that will not stay; And call them pillars, that will stand to us; And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards As victors wear at the Olympian games. "This may plant courage in their quailing 1 breasts, "For yet is hope of life and victory. "Fore-slow 2 no longer; make we hence amain. SCENE IV. [Exeunt. The same. Excursions. Another part of the field. Enter RICHARD and CLIFford. 'Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone. 'Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York, And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone. To execute the like upon thyself; And so, have at thee. [they fight. Warwick enters; Clifford flies. Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other chase; 1 For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exeunt. SCENE V. Another part of the field. Alarum. Enter KING HENRY. "K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning war, "When dying clouds contend with growing light "What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, "Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, 'Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the self-same sea, 'Forced to retire by fury of the wind: 'Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; 'So is the equal poise of this fell war. Would I were dead, if God's good will were so! For what is in this world but grief and woe? "O God! methinks, it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; |