We'll yoke together, like a double shadow
To Henry's body, and supply his place;
I mean, in bearing weight of government,
While he enjoys the honour, and his ease.

And, Clarence, now then, it is more than needful,
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a traitor,
And all his lands and goods be confiscate.

Clar. What else? and that succession be determin'd.

War. Ay, therein Clarence shall not want his part. K. Hen. But, with the first of all your chief affairs, Let me entreat, (for I command no more,)

That Margaret your queen, and my son Edward,
Be sent for, to return from France with speed;
For, till I see them here, by doubtful fear
My joy of liberty is half eclips'd.

Clar. It shall be done, my sov'reign, with all speed.

K. Hen. My lord of Somerset, what youth is that, Of whom you seem to have so tender care?

Som. My liege, it is young Henry, earl of Richmond.

K. Hen. Come hither, England's hope. [Lays his hand on his head.] If secret powers Suggest but truth to my divining thoughts, This pretty lad will prove our country's bliss. His looks are full of peaceful majesty; His head by nature fram'd to wear a crown, His hand to wield a sceptre; and himself Likely in time to bless a regal throne. Make much of him, my lords; for this is he, Must help you more than you are hurt by me. Enter a Messenger.

War. What news, my friend?

Mess. That Edward is escaped from your brother, And fled, as he hears since, to Burgundy.

War. Unsavoury news! but how made he escape? Mess. He was convey'd by Richard duke of Gloster,

And the lord Hastings, who attended him

In secret ambush on the forest side,

And from the bishop's huntsmen rescu'd him;
For hunting was his daily exercise.

War. My brother was too careless of his charge.-
But let us hence, my sov'reign, to provide
A salve for any sore that may betide.

[Exeunt KING HENRY, WARWICK, CLARENCE, Lieutenant, and Attendants. Som. My lord, I like not of this flight of Edward's; For doubtless Burgundy will yield him help, And we shall have more wars before 't be long. As Henry's late presaging prophecy

Did glad my heart with hope of this young Richmond,

So doth my heart misgive me, in these conflicts
What may befall him, to his harm and ours:
Therefore, lord Oxford, to prevent the worst,
Forthwith we'll send him hence to Brittany,
Till storms be past of civil enmity.

Oxf. Ay, for if Edward repossess the crown,
'Tis like that Richmond with the rest shall down.
Som. It shall be so; he shall to Brittany.
Come, therefore, let's about it speedily. [Exeunt.

SCENE VII.-Before YORK.

Enter KING Edward, Gloster, Hastings, and forces. K. Edw. Now, brother Richard, lord Hastings, and the rest,

Yet thus far fortune maketh us amends,
And says, that once more I shall interchange
My wanèd state for Henry's regal crown.
Well have we pass'd, and now repass'd the seas,
And brought desirèd help from Burgundy:
What then remains, we being thus arriv'd
From Ravenspurg haven before the gates of York,
But that we enter, as into our dukedom?

Gio. The gates made fast!-Brother, I like not this;

For many men that stumble at the threshold,
Are well foretold that danger lurks within.

K. Edw. Tush, man! abodements must not now affright us:

By fair or foul means we must enter in,
For hither will our friends repair to us.

Hasi. My liege, I'll knock once more to summon them.

Enter, on the walls, the Mayor of York and Aldermen. May. My lords, we were forewarnèd of your

coming,

He'll soon find means to make the body follow. Hast. Why, master mayor, why stand you in a doubt?

Open the gates; we are king Henry's friends.
May. Ay, say you so? the gates shall then be

open'd. [Exit, with Aldermen, above. Glo. A wise stout captain, and soon persuaded. Hast. The good old man would fain that all were well,

So 'twere not 'long of him; but, being enter'd,
I doubt not, I, but we shall soon persuade
Both him and all his brothers unto reason.

Re-enter the Mayor and Aldermen, below. K. Edw. So, master mayor: these gates must not be shut,

But in the night, or in the time of war.
What! fear not, man, but yield me up the keys;
[Takes his keys.

For Edward will defend the town and thee,
And all those friends that deign to follow me.

Drum. Enter MONTGOMERY and forces, marching.
Glo. Brother, this is Sir John Montgomery,
Our trusty friend, unless I be deceiv'd.

K. Edw. Welcome, Sir John! but why come you in arms?

Mont. To help king Edward in this time of storm, As every loyal subject ought to do.

K. Edw. Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget

Our title to the crown, and only claim
Our dukedom, till God please to send the rest.
Mont. Then fare you well, for I will hence again :

I came to serve a king, and not a duke.-
Drummer, strike up, and let us march away.

[A march begun.

ACT V.

SCENE I.-Coventry.

Enter, upon the walls, WARWICK, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, and others.

War. Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?

How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? I Mess. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.

War. How far off is our brother Montague? Where is the post that came from Montague?

2 Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. Enter SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE.

War. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son? And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now? Som. At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here some two hours hence. [Drum heard. War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his drum. Som. It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies: The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick.

War. Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends.

Som. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

March. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, and forces.

K. Edw. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle.

Glo. See how the surly Warwick mans the wall! War. O, unbid spite! is sportful Edward come? Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could hear no news of his repair?

K. Edw. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates,

Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee?
Call Edward king, and at his hands beg mercy,
And he shall pardon thee these outrages.

War. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,

Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down?
Call Warwick patron, and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remain the duke of York.
Glo. I thought, at least, he would have said the
Or did he make the jest against his will?

[king;

War. Is not a dukedom, Sir, a goodly gift? Glo. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give: I'll do thee service for so 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 so 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 forecast, But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, The king was slily 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 so; yet you are Warwick still. Glo. Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down,

kneel down:

Nay, when? strike now, or else 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 so low a sail, to strike to thee.
K. Edw. Sail how thou canst, have wind and
tide thy friend;

This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,
Shall, whiles thy head is warm, and new cut off,
Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood,-
"Wind-changing Warwick now can change no

more.

Enter OXFORD, with forces, drum, and colours. War. O cheerful colours! see where Oxford comes. Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!

[He and his forces enter the city.
Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.
K. Edw. So other foes may set upon our backs.
Stand we in good array; for they, no doubt,
Will issue out again and bid us battle:
If not, the city being but of small defence,
We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.
War. O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.
Enter MONTAGUE, with forces, drum, and colours.
Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!
[He and his forces enter the city.
Glo. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this
treason,

Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory:
My mind presageth happy gain, and conquest.

Enter SOMERSET, with forces, drum, and colours.
Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!

[He and his forces enter the city. Glo. Two of thy name, both dukes of Somerset, Have sold their lives unto the house of York; And thou shalt be the third, if this sword hold.

Enter CLARENCE, with forces, drum, and colours. War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along,

Of force enough to bid his brother battle;
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails,
More than the nature of a brother's love!-

[GLOSTER and CLARENCE whisper. Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call. Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this means?

[Taking the red rose out of his hat. 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 set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, War. wick,

That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother, and his lawful king?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath:
To keep that oath, were more impiety
Than Jephtha's, 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 myself thy mortal foe;
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee if thou stir abroad)
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy 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 belov'd,

Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike.

War. O passing 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 will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.

K. Edw. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way.

Lords, to the field; Saint George, and victory! [March. Exeunt.

SCENE II-A Field of Battle near BARNET. Alarums and Excursions. Enter KING EDWARD, bringing in WARWICK wounded.

K. Edw. So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;

For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.—
Now Montague, sit 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 victor, York or Warwick?
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,
My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows,
That I must yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
These eyes, that now are dimm'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 liken'd 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 dust and blood!
My parks, my walks, my manors 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, reign, 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 We might recover all our loss again: [are, The queen from France hath brought a puissant power;

Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly! War. Why, then I would not fly.-Ah, Montague,

If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!
Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst,
Thy tears would wash this cold congealèd blood,
That glues my lips, and will not let me speak.
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.
But in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed:

I mean, my lords, those powers that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our coast,
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 valu'd thirty thousand strong, And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her: If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd, Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advértis'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 county as we go along.Strike up the drum; cry-Courage! and away. [Flourish. Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Plains near TEWKSBURY. March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, SOM. ERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers.

Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.
What though the mast be now blown over-board,
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
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 sav'd?
Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor; what of that?
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?