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K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times

more beloved, Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate. Glou. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother

WAR. O passing traitor, perjured 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 darest.

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

the way:

Lords, to the field ; Saint George and victory!

[Exeunt King EDWARD and his company.

March. WARWICK and his company follow.

A field of battle near Barnet.
Alarum and excursions. Enter King EDWARD,

bringing forth 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.

[Erit. WAR. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe,

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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 lived 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

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.

Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick ! wert thou as we

We might recover all our loss again:

queen from France hath brought a puissant

power : Even now we heard the news: ah, couldst thou fly!

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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 lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst, Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood That glues my lips and will not let me speak. Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead. Som. Ah, Warwick ! Montague hath breathed

his last; And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick And said Commend me to


valiant brother, And more he would have said, and more he spoke, Which sounded like a clamour in a vault, That mought not be distinguish’d; but at last I well might hear, deliver'd with a groan, O, farewell, Warwick ! War. Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save

yourselves; For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in

Dies. Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great power! [Here they bear away his body.

Exeunt. SCENE III.

Another part of the field.
Flourish. Enter King EDWARD in triumph ; with

K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward

And we are graced with wreaths of victory.



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But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicious, threatening cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed :
I mean, my lords, those


that the queen
Hath raised in Gallia have arrived 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 :
The very beams will dry those vapours up,

every cloud engenders not a storm.
Glou. The queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her:
If she have time to breathe, be well assured
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertised 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.


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Plains near Tewksbury.

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 overboard, 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 saved ? Ah, what a shame ! ah, what a fault were this! Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that? And Montague our topmast; 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,

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