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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 hadít 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 ftones about thine ears?

War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence: I will away towards Barnet prefently,

And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.

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

-Lords, to the field; St. George and victory! [Exeunt. March. Warwick and his Company follow.

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A Field of Battle near Barnet.

Alarm and Excurfions. Enter Edward, bringing forth Warwick wounded.

K. Edw.

lie thou there: die thou, and die our

So, Fear;

4 For Warwick was a bug, that fcar'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 afk I that? my mangled body shows,

My bloed, my want of ftrength, my fick heart fhows,
That I muft yield my body to the earth,
And, by my Fall, the Conqueft to my foe.

*Paing] Eminent, egregious; traiterous beyond the common track of treafon.

4 For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.] Bug is a Bugbear, a terrifick being.

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 fhrubs from winter's pow'rful wind. Thefe eyes, that now are dim'd with death's black veil, Have been as piercing as the mid-day Sun,

To fearch the fecret treafons of the world.

The wrinkles in my brow, now fill'd with blood,
Were lik'ned oft to kingly fepulchres,

For who liv'd King, but I could dig his grave?
And who durft fmile, when Warwick bent his brow?
Lo! now my glory fmear'd in duft and blood.
My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,
Ev'n now forfake 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 muft.

Enter Oxford and Somerfet.

Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are, We might recover all our lofs again;

The Queen from France hath brought a puiffant Pow'r; Ev'n now we heard the news. Ah, could't thou fly!

War. Why, then I would not fly.-Ah, Montague, If thou be there, fweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my foul a while. Thou lov't me not; for, brother, if thou didft, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood, That glews my lips, and will not let me fpeak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

Som. Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his laft, And to the latest gafp cry'd out for Warwick, And faid, Commend me to my valiant brother. And more he would have faid, and more he fpoke,

HOR.

Gedes camptis faltibus, et de me, Villaque. This mention of his parks and

mancurs diminishes the pathetick effect of the foregoing lines.

P 2

Which

5 Which founded like a clamour in a vault,
That might not be diftinguifh'd; but at laft
I well might hear deliver'd with a groan,
O, farewel, Warwick!

War. Sweetly reft his foul!

Fly, Lords, and fave yourselves; for Warwick bids You all farewel, to meet again in heav'n.

[Dies.

Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queen's great power. [They bear away his Body, and Exeunt.

SCENE IV.

Changes to another Part of the Field.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph; with Gloucefter, Clarence, and the rest.

K. Edw.HUS far our fortune keeps an upward course,

THU

And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midft of this bright-fhining day,
I fpy a black, fufpicious, threat'ning cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious Sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed ;

I mean, my Lords, thofe 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 foon difperfe that cloud,
And blow it to the fource from whence it came;
Thy very beams will dry those vapours up,
For every cloud engenders not a ftorm.

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Glo. The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,

5 Which founded like a CANNON in a vault,] The old quarto reads CLAMOUR, which is undoubtedly right, i. e. a clamour of tongues, which, as he lays, could not be distinguif'd.

This was a pertinent fimilitude: The other abfurd, and neither agrees with what is predicated of it, nor with what it is intended to illuflrate.

WARBURTON.

And

And Somerset with Oxford, fled to her.
If the hath time to breathe, be well affur'd,
Her faction will be full as ftrong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends,
That they do hold their course tow'rd Tewksbury.
We having now the beft at Barnet field,
Will thither straight; for willingness rids way;
And as we march, our ftrength will be augmented
In every county as we go along.

Strike up the Drum, cry,-Courage, and away. [Exeunt.

SCENE V.

Changes to Tewksbury.

March. Enter the Queen, Prince of Wales, Somerset, Oxford, and Soldiers.

Queen.

G

REAT Lords, wife men ne'er fit and wail
their lofs,

But chearly feek how to redrefs their arms.
What though the maft be now blown over-board,
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
And half our failors fwallow'd in the flood?
Yet lives our Pilot ftill; is't meet, that he
Should leave the helm, and, like a fearful lad,
With tear-full eyes add water to the fea;

And give more ftrength to that which hath too much,
While in his moan the fhip splits on the rock,
Which industry and courage might have fav'd?
Ah, what a fhame! ah, what a fault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor; what of that?
And Montague our top maft; what of him?
Our flaughter'd friends, the tackle; what of these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerfet another goodly mast?

The friends of France our fhrouds and tackling ftill?
And though unfkilful, why not Ned and I
P 3

For

For once allow'd the fkilful pilot's charge?

We will not from the helm to fit and weep,

But keep our courfe, though the rough wind fay, No,
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.
As good to chide the waves, as fpeak them fair;
And what is Edward, but a ruthlefs fea?
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 fwim, alas, 'tis but a while;
Tread on the fand, why, there you quickly fink:
Beftride the rock, the tide will wash you off,
Or elfe you famifh, that's a three-fold death.
This fpeak I, Lords, to let you understand,
In cafe fome one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers,
More than with ruthlefs waves, with fands, 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 fpeak these words, Infufe his breaft with magnanimity,

And make him naked, foil a man at arms,
I fpeak not this, as doubting any here,.
For did I but fufpect a fearful man,.
He fhould have leave to go away betimes;
Left, in our Need, he might infect another,
And make him of like fpirit to himself.
If any fuch be here, as, God forbid !
Let him depart before we need his help.

Oxf, Women and children of fo high a courage!
And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual fhame.
Oh, brave young Prince! thy famous Grandfather
Doth live again in thee; long may'it thou live,
To bear his image, and renew his glories!
Som. And he, that will not fight for fuch a hope,
Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day,
If he arife, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

Qucen

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