Puslapio vaizdai
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Haft. Away with fcrupulous Wit, now Arms muft rule. Glo. And fearlefs minds climb fooneft unto Crowns. Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand,

The bruit thereof will bring you many Friends.
K. Edw. Then be it as you will; for 'tis my right,
And Henry but ufurps the Diadem.

Mont. Ay, now my Soveraign fpeaketh like himself,
And now will I be Edward's Champion.

Haft. Sound Trumpet, Edward fhall be here proclaim'd: Come, fellow Soldier, make thou Proclamation.

[Flourish. Sold. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of

England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c.

Mont. And whofoe'er gain-fays King Edward's right,

By this I challenge him to fingle Fight.

[Throws down his Gauntlet.
All. Long live Edward the Fourth.
K. Edw. Thanks, brave Montgomery;
And thanks unto you all.

If Fortune serve me, I'll requite this Kindness.
Now for this Night, let's harbour here at York:
And when the Morning Sun fhall raise his Car
Above the Border of this Horizon,

We'll forward towards Warwick, and his Mates;
For well I wot, that Henry is no Soldier.
Ah froward Clarence, how evil it befeems thee,
To flatter Henry, and forfake thy Brother?
Yet as we may, we'll meet both thee and Warwick,
Come on brave Soldiers; doubt not of the Day,
And that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.

[Exeunt.

Enter King Henry, Warwick, Montague, Clarence, Oxford, and Somerfet.

War. What Counfel, Lords? Edward from Belgia, With hafty Germans, and blunt Hollanders,

Hath pafs'd in fafety through the narrow Seas,

And with his Troops doth march amain to London,

And many giddy People flock to him.

K. Henry. Let's levy Men, and beat him back again.
Clar. A little Fire is quickly trodden out,

Which being fuffer'd, Rivers cannot quench.

VOL. IV.

F

War

War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted Friends,
Not mutinous in Peace, yet bold in War,
Those will I mufter up; and thou, Son Clarence,
Shalt ftir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee.
Thou Brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicester fhire fhalt find
Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'ft.
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well belov'd,
In Oxfordshire fhalt mufter up thy Friends.
My Soveraign, with the loving Citizens,
Like to his Ifland, girt with th' Ocean,
Or modeft Dian, circled with her Nymphs,
Shall reft in London, 'till we come to him:
Fair Lords take leave, and ftand not to reply.
Farewel my Soveraign.

K. Henry. Farewel my Hector, and my Troy's true hope.
Clar. In fign of truth, I kifs your Highnels Hand.
K. Henry. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
Mont. Comfort, my Lord, and fo I take my leave.
Oxf. And thus I feal my Truth, and bid adieu.
K. Henry. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewel.
War. Farewel, fweet Lords, let's meet at Coventry.

K. Henry. Here at the Palace will I reft a while. Coufin of Exeter, what thinks your Lordship? Methinks, the Power that Edward hath in Field, Should not be able to encounter mine.

[Exeunt.

Exe. The doubt is, that he will feduce the rest.
K.Henry. That's not my fear, my meed hath got me fame:
I have not stopt mine Ears to their demands,

Nor pofted off their Suits with flow delays,
My pity hath been Balm to heal their Wounds,
My mildness hath allay'd their fwelling Griefs,
My mercy dry'd their water-flowing Tears.
I have not been defirous of their Wealth,
Nor much oppreft them with great Subfidies,
Nor forward of Revenge, though they much err'd.
Then why should they love Edward more than me?
No, Exeter, thefe Graces challenge Grace:

And

And when the Lion fawns upon the Lamb,

The Lamb will never ceafe to follow him.

[Shout within. A Lancaster! a Lancaster!

Exe. Hark, hark, my Lord, what Shouts are these?
Enter King Edward and his Soldiers.

K. Edw. Seize on the fhame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence,
And once again proclaim us King of England.
You are the Fount, that make fmall Brooks to flow,
Now ftops thy Spring, my Sea fhall fuck them dry,
And fwell fo much the higher, by their ebb.
Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speak.

[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. [Exeunt.

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

War. How far hence is thy Lord, mine honeft Fellow?

Here is the Poft that came from valiant Oxford?

How

1 Meff. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. War. How far off is our Brother Montague? Where is the Poft that came from Montague?

2 Meff. By this at Daintry, with a puiffant 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.

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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, Glocefter, 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 fpight, is fportful Edward come? Where flept our Scouts, or how are they feduc'd, That we could hear no news of his repair?

the City Gates,

K. Edw. Now Warwick, wilt thou ope
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 leaft 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.
War. 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 Prifoner:
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 fteal 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 elfe 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 fo low a Sail, to ftrike to thee.

K. Edw.

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 Lancaster.

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 deareft 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. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster. Glo. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset, Have fold their Lives un'o the Houfe 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 fweeps 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 House,

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.

F3

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