Should not be able to encounter mine.

Exe. The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.

K. Hen. That's not my fear; my meed hath got me fame:

I have not stopp'd mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays; 40
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness hath allay'd their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears;
I have not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much oppress'd them with great subsidies,
Nor forward of revenge, though they much
err'd:

Then why should they love Edward more than
me?

No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace:
And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
The lamb will never cease to follow him.

50

[Shout within, 'A Lancaster! A Lancaster!' Exe. Hark, hark, my lord! what shouts are these? Enter King Edward, Gloucester, and Soldiers. K. Edw. Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear him hence;

And once again proclaim us king of England. You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow:

Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them

dry,

And swell so much the higher by their ebb. Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak. [Exeunt some with King Henry.

And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our

course,

Where peremptory Warwick now remains:
The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay,
Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.

60

Glou. Away betimes, before his forces join,
And take the great-grown traitor unawares:
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.

[Exeunt.

ACT FIFTH

SCENE I

Coventry.

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

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

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

erward. War. How far off is our brother Montague?

Where is the post that came from Montague? Second Mess. By this at Daintry, with a puissant

troop.

Enter Sir John Somervile.

War. Say, Somervile, 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 10 [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 honor 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, Gloucester and Soldiers.

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

parle.

Glou. See how the surly Warwick mans the wall! War. O unbid spite! is sportful Edward come?

Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced, 1 That we could hear no news of his repair? 20 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. Glou. I thought, at least, he would have said the

king;

30

Or did he make the jest against his will? War. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? Glou. Aye, 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 pris

oner:

And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: 40
What is the body when the head is off?

Glou. 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.
Glou. 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, 50 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 drum and colors.

War. O cheerful colors! see where Oxford comes! Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!

[He and his forces enter the city.