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? 1 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,

The king was slily finger'd from the deck!
And, ten to one, you'll meet him in the Tower.
You left poor Henry at the bishop's palace,

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 the 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 drum and colours.
War. O cheerful colours! see, where
comes !

Oxf.

know.

Drums. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, and Forces, marching.

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 king;

Or did he make the jest 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 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 War

wick'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 pri

soner:

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,

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 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 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 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: -
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick calls.
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this
means?

[Taking the red rose out of his cap.
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, Warwick,
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 Jephthas, 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 checks.
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 are,

course,

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 caseful 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, fied 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. [Exeun.

SCENE IV. - Plains near Tewksbury. March. Enter Queen Margaret, PRINCE EDWARD, SOMERSET, 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?

The friends of France our shrouds 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 sit and weep;
But keep our course, though the rough wind say -
no,

From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.
As good to chide the waves, as speak them fair.
And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence, but a quicksand 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 sink :
Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a threefold 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.

Orf. Women and children of so high a courage!
And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame.
0, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather
Doth live again in thee; Long may'st thou live,
To bear his image, and renew his glories!

-sweet Ox

Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope, Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at. Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset ; · ford, thanks. Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

Orf. I thought no less: it is his policy, To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness.

Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.

Orf. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.

March. Enter, at a distance, King Edward, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

Which, by the heavens' assistance, and your strength,
Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere 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.

Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say,

My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, no more but this: - Henry, your sove-
reign,

Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancell'd, 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.

[Exeunt both armies.

SCENE V. Another Part of the same. Alarums: Excursions: and afterwards a retreat. Then, enter KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces: with QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, prisoners.

K. Edw. Now, here 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.
Orf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with
words.

Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my for

Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
Glo. It is and lo, where youthful Edward comes.
Enter Soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak.

What! can so young a thorn begin to prick ?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?

Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious
York!

Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth;
Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou,
Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou would'st have me answer to.
Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so re-
solv'd!

Glo. That you might still have worn the petti

coat,

And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night;
His currish riddles sort not with this place.
Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that

word,

Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to

men.

Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold. Prince. Nay, take away this scolding crook-back rather.

K. Edw. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.

Clar. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert. Prince. I know my duty, you are all undutiful : Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George, And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all, I am your better, traitors as ye are ;And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine. K. Edw. Take that, the likeness of this railer here. [Stabs him. Glo. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agony. [GLO. stabs him. Clar. And there's for twitting me with perjury. [CLAR. stabs him. [Offers to kill her.

Q. Mar. O, kill me too!
Glo. Marry, and shall.

K. Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we have done too much.

Glo. Why should she live, to fill the world with words?

K. Edw. What! doth she swoon? use me, for

[Exit.

Q. Mar. O, Ned, sweet Ned! speak to thy mo-
ther, boy!

Canst thou not speak?— O traitors! murderers! -
They, that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all,
Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
If this foul deed were by, to equal it.
He was a man this, in respect, a child;
And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
No, no; my heart will burst, an if I speak : —
And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and villains, bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
You have no children, butchers! if you had,
The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse:
But, if you ever chance to have a child,
Look in his youth to have him so cut off,

As, deathsmen! you have rid this sweet young prince!

K. Edw. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.

Q. Mar. Nay, never bear me hence, despatch me here;

Here sheath thy sword, I'll pardon thee my death: What! wilt thou not?- then, Clarence, do it thou. Clar. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease. Q. Mar. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.

Clar. Didst thou not hear me swear, I would not do it?

Q. Mar. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself:

"Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
What! wilt thou not? where is that devil's butcher,
Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not here: Murder is thy alms-deed;
Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.

K. Edw. Away, I say ; I charge ye, bear her hence.

Q. Mar. So come to you, and yours, as to this prince! [Exit, led out forcibly.

K. Edw. Where's Richard gone? Clar. To London, all in post; and, as I guess, To make a bloody supper in the Tower.

K. Edw. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head. Now march we hence: discharge the common sort With pay and thanks, and let's away to London, And see our gentle queen how well she fares; By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.

[Exeunt.

SCENE VI. - London. A Room in the Tower. KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a book in kis hand, the Lieutenant attending. Enter GLOSTER. Glo. Good day, my lord! What, at your book so hard?

K. Hen. Ay, my good lord: My lord, I should say rather:

'Tis sin to flatter, good was little better: Good Gloster, and good devil, were alike, And both preposterous; therefore, not good lord. Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must con[Erit Lieutenant.

fer.

K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from the
wolf:

So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife. —
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?

Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind; The thief doth fear each bush an officer.

K. Hen. The bird, that hath been limed in a bush, With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush: And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird, Have now the fatal object in my eye,

Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.

Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete, That taught his son the office of a fowl? And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.

K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus; Thy father, Minos, that denied our course; The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy, Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea, Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life. Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words! My breast can better brook thy dagger's point, Than can my ears that tragick history. — But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life? Glo. Think'st thou, I am an executioner? K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art; If murdering innocents be executing, Why, then thou art an executioner.

Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first the
didst presume,

Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophecy, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear;
And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands' fate,
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,
Shall rue the.hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempests shook down treesta
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's nain,