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Perhaps thou wilt object my holy Oath:
To keep that Oath were more Impiety,
Than Fepthah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter.
I am so sorry for my Trespass made,
That to deserve well at my Brother's Hands,
I here proclaim my self thy mortal Foe:
With Resolution, wherefoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir Abroad,)
To plague thee for thy foul miss-leading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defie thee,
And to my Brother turn my blushing Cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends :
And Richard, do not frown upon my Faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.

K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more beloy'd,
Than if thou never had'st deserv'd my Hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is Brother-like.
War. O palling Traitor, perjur'd and unjust.

K. Edw. What Warwick,
Wilt thou leave the Town and fight?
Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Ears?

War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee Battel, Edward, if thou dar'st.

K. Edw. Yes Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way:
Lords to the Field; St. George and Vi&ory.

March. Warwick and his Company follows.
Alarum and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth War-

wick 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 fast, I seek 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 Vi&or, Tork, or Warwick?
Why ask I that ? my mangled Body shews,
My Blood, my want of Strength, my sick Heart shews,
That I must yield my Body to the Earth,
And by my fall, the conquest to my Foe. .
Thus yields the Cedar to the Ax's edge,
Whosé Arms gave shelter to the Princely Eagle,


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Under whose made the ramping Lion Nept,
Whose top-branch over-peerd Jove's fpreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winter's pow'rful Wisd.
These Eyes, that now are dimn'd with Death's black Veil,
Have been as piercing as the Mid-day Sun,
To search the secret Treasons of the World:
The wrinkles in my Brows, now fill'd with Blood,
Were lik’ned oft to Kingly Sepulchres:
For who liv'd King, but I could dig his Grave?
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his Brow?
Lo, now my Glory smear'd in Duft and Blood,
My Parks, my Walks, my Mannors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and of all my Lands,
Is nothing left me, but my Body's length.
Why, what is Pomp, Rule, Reigr, but Earth and Dust?
And live we how we can, yet die we must:

Enter Oxford and Somerset.
Som. Ah Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are,
We might recover all our Lofs again:
The Queen from France hath brought a puissant Power,
Even now we heard the News: Ah, could'st thou fly.

Wur. Why then I would not fly.. Ah Montague,
If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
And with thy Lips kecp in my Soul a while.

Thou loy'st me not; for, Brother, if thou didst,
Thy Tears would wash this cold congealed Blood,
That glews my Lips, and will not let me speak.
Come quickly Montague, or I am dead.

Som. Ah Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his last,
And to the latest gasp, cry'd out for Warwick:
And said, commend me to my valiant Brother.
And more he would have said, and more he spoke,
And founded like a Cannon in a Vault,
That mought not be distinguish'd; but at last,
I well might hear delivered with a Groan,
O farewel Warwick.

War. Sweet reft his Soul;
Fly Lords, and save your felves,
For Warwick bids you all farewel, to meet in Heaven. (Dies.
Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queen's great Power.
Here they bear away his Body. [Exeunt.




Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Gloucester,

Clarence, and the rest.
K. Edw. Thus far our Fortune keeps an upward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of Vi&ory;
But in the midst of this bright-shining Day,
I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious Sun,
E’er he attain his easeful Western Bed:
I mean, my Lords, those Powers that the Queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our Coaft,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

Clar. A little Gale will soon disperse that Cloud,
And blow it to the Source from whence it came;
Thy very Beams will dry those Vapours up,
For every Cloud, engenders not a Storm.

Glo. The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, Aled to her;
If he hath time to breathe, be well assur'd
Her Faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis’d by our loving Friends,
That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury.
We having now the best at Barnet Field,
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way,
And as we march, our strength will be augmented,
In every Country as we go along :
Strike up the Drum, cry Courage, and away. [Exeunt.
March. Enter the Queen, Prince of Wales, Somerset,

Oxford, and Soldiers.
Queen. Great Lords, wise Men ne'er fit and wail their
But chearly seek how to redress their Harms. [Loss,
What though the Maft be now blown over-board,
The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor loft,
And half our Sailors swallow'd in the Flood ?
Yet lives our Pilot still. Is't meet that he
Should leave the Helm, and like a fearful Lad,
With tearful Eyes add Water to the Sea,
And give more strength to that which hath too much,
Whiles in his moan, the Ship splits on the Rock,
Which Industry and Courage might have favid?
Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this.
Say, Warwick was our Anchor; what of that?




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And Montague our Top-mast; what of him?
Our slaughter'd Friends, the Tackles; what of these?
Why is not Oxford here another Anchor?
And Somerset, another goodly Mast?
The Friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
And though unskilful, why not Ned and I,
For once allow'd the skilful Pilot's Charge ?
We will not from the Helm to fit and weep,
But keep our Course, though the rough Wind say no,
From Shelves and Rocks, that threaten us with Wrack.
As good to chide the Waves, as speak them fair.
And what is Edward, but a ruthless Sea?
What Clarence, but a Quick-fand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal Rock?
All these, the Enemies to our poor Bark.
Say you can swim, alas, 'tis but a while;
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly fink;
Bestride the Rock, the Tide will waih you off,
Or else you famith, that's a three-fold Death.
This speak I, Lords, to let you understand,
In case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More than with ruthless Waves, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be avoided,
Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.

Prince. Methinks a Woman of this valiant Spirit
Should, if a Coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his Breast with Magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foil a Man at Arms.

I speak not this, as doubting any here :
For did I but suspect a fearful Man,
He should have leave to go away betimes,
Lest in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like Spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart before we need his help.

Oxf. Women and Children of so high a Courage,
And Warriors faint! why 'were perpetual Shame.
Oh brave young Prince ! thy famous Grandfather
Doth live again in thee; long may'st thou live,
To bear his Image, and renew his Glories.


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Som. And he that will not fight for such a Hope,
Go home to Bed, and like the Owl by Day,
If he arife, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

Queen. Thanks, gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thanks.
Prin. And take his Thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.
Mef. Prepare you, Lords, for Edward is at hand,
Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

Oxf. I thought no less; it his Policy,
To haste thus faft, to find us unprovided.

Som. But he's deceiv’d, we are in readiness.
Queen. This chears my Heart, to see your forwardness.
Oxf. Here pitch our Battel, hence we will not budge.
March. Enter King Edward, Glocester, Clarence,

and Soldiers. In
K. Edw. Brave Followers, yonder stands the thorny Wood,
Which, by the Heaven's Alistance, and your Strength,
Mult, by the Roots, be hewn up yet e'er Night.
I need not add more Fuel to your Fire,
For well I wot, ye blaze, to burn them out :
Give Signal to the Fight, and to it, Lords..

Queen. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say,
My Tears gain-lay; for every word I speak,

Yé fee I drink the Water of my Eye:
Therefore, no more but this; Henry, your Sovereign,
Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State ulurp'd,
His Realm a Slaughter-house, his Subjects slain,
His Statutes cancelld, and his Treasure spent:
And yonder is the Wolf, that makes this Spoil.
You fight in Justice : Then in God's Name, Lords,
Be valiant, and give Signal to the Fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions.
Enter King Edward, Glocefter, Clarence, &c. The Queen,

Oxford, and Somerset Prisoners.
K. Edw. Now here's a Period of tumultuous Broils.
Away with Oxford to Hammes Castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guilty Head.
Go bear them hence, I will not hear them speak.

Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with Patience to my Fortune.



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