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Oxf. Axford! Oxford! for Lancaster.

Glo. The gates are open, let us enter too.
K. Edw. So other foes may fet upon our backs.
Stand we in good array; for they, no doubt,
Will iffue out again and bid us battle:

If not, the city being of fmall defence,
We'll quickly rouze the traitors in the fame.

War. O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.

Enter Montague, with Drum and Colours.

Mont. Montague! Montague! for Lancaster. Glo. Thou, and thy brother both, fhall buy this treafon Ev'n with the dearest blood your bodies bear. K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater victory; My mind prefageth happy gain and conqueft.

Enter Somerset, with Drum and Colours.

Sem. Somerfet! Somerfet! for Lancaster.
Glo. Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Have fold their lives unto the house of York,
And thou shalt be the third, if this fword hold.

Enter Clarence, avith Drum and Colours.

War. And, lo! where George of Clarence fweeps 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 call.[A Parley is founded; Richard and Clarence whisper together; and then Clarence takes his red rofe out of his hat, and throws it at Warwick.] (21)

Clar. Father of Warwick, know you, what this means? Look, here, I throw my infamy at thee:

I will not ruinate my father's house,

Who gave his blood to lime these ftones together,

(21) A Parley is founded, &c.] This neceffary note of direction, which explains the matter in action, I reftor'd from the old Quarto. And, without it, it is impoffible that any reader can guess at the meaning of this line of Clarence;

Look, bere I throw my infamy at thee,

And

And fet up Lancaster. Why, trow't thou, Warwick
That Clarence is fo harfh, fo blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal inftruments of war

Against his brother, and his lawful King?
Perhaps, thou wilt object my holy oath:
To keep that oath were more impiety,
Than Jeptha's, when he facrific'd his daughter,
I am fo forry for my trespass made,

That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim myfelf thy mortal foe:
With refolution, wherefoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou ftir abroad)
To plague thee for thy foul mif-leading me.
And fo, 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 unconftant.

K. Ed. Now welcome more, and ten times more beloy'd, Than if thou never hadft deferv'd our hate.

Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is brother-like. War. O paffing traitor, perjur'd and unjust! K.E.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 presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.

K. E. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way: Lords, to the field; St. George and victory!

[Exeunt. March. Warwick and his company follow.

SCENE, a Field of Battle near Barnet.

Ala um and excurfions. Enter Edward, bringing forth
Warwick wounded.

K. Edw. For Warwick was a bug, that fear'd us all.
S
Now, Montague, fit faft, I feek for thee;

O, lie you there; die thou, and die our fear;

That Warwick's bones may keep thine company. [Exit.

H 5

War.

1

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 fhews,

My blood, my want of ftrength, my fick heart fhews,
That I muft yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conqueft to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the ax's elge,
Whofe arms gave shelter to the princely eagle ;
Under whofe hade the rampant lion flept,

Whose top branch over-peer'd fove's fpreading tree,
And kept low fhrubs from winter's pow'rful wind.
These eyes, that now are dim'd with death's black veil,
Have been as piercing as the mid-day fun,
To fearch the fecret treafons of the world.
The wrinkles in my brow, now fill'd with blood,
Were liken'd 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, (22)
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 power: Ev'n now we heard the news: ah, could't thou fly! War. Why, then I would not fly.

Ah, Montague,

(22) My parks, my walks, my manors that I had,

Ev'n now for fake me; and of all my lands

Is nothing left me, but my body's length.] I won't venture to affirm, our author is imitating Horace here; but, furely, this paffage is very much of a caft with that which I am about to quote.

Linquenda tellus & Domus, & placens

Uxor; neque barum, quas colis, Arborum
Te præter invifas Cupreffos,

Ulla brevem Dominum fequetur,

Lib. ii. Ode 14.

If

thou be there, fweet brother, take my hand, nd with thy lips keep in my foul a while. hou lov't me not; for, brother, if thou didst, hy tears would wash this cold congealed blood, hat glews my lips, and will not let me fpeak. ome quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

Som. Ah Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his last, nd to the latest gafp cry'd out for Warwick. nd faid, Commend me to my valiant brother. nd more he would have faid, and more he spoke, Which founded like a cannon in a vault, "hat might not be diftinguifh'd; but at last well might hear deliver'd with a groan, , farewel, Warwick!

War. Sweetly reft his foul!

ly, Lords, and fave yourselves; for Warwick bids ou all farewel, to meet again in heaven.

[Dies.

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

SCENE changes to another part of the Field.

lourish. Enter King Edward in triumph; with Gloucefter, Clarence, and the reft.

K. E.

E.TH

HUS far our fortune keeps an upward courfe,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midst of this bright-fhining day,
fpy a black, fufpicious, threat'ning cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious fun,
Ere he attain his eafeful western bed:

I mean, my Lords, thofe powers, that the Queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd.o our coaft,
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 thofe 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.

H 6.

If

If the hath time to breathe, be well aflured,
Her faction will be full as ftrong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis'd by our loving friends,
That they do hold their courfe tow'rd Tevskfbury.
We having now the best at Barnet field,

Will thither ftraight; 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. [Exeuntɩ

SCENE changes to Tewksbury.

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

Reat Lords, wife men ne'er fit and wail their loss,

What though the maft be now blown over-board, (23) (23) What though the maft be now blown overboard;

The cable broke, the holding anchor Loft,

And balf our failors fwallow'd in the Flood?] The allufion which the Queen purfues here, of the kingdom harrafs'd by the calamities of civil war, to a fhip diftrefs'd by hard weather, feems a clofe copy from this fine draught of Horace :

Nonne vides, út

Nudum remigio latus,

Et malus celeri faucius Africo,

Antennæque gemant? Ac fine funibus

Vix durare Carine

Poffint imperiofius

quor Non tibi funt integra lintea, &c.

Lib. i. Ode 14.

And what is very remarkable, this image in both poets is made on the fame occafion, on the forms of civil fury. Only our poet very judiciously, as ufing it metaphorically, is much fhorter than Horace, who used it allegorically, which requir'd its being drawn out to greater length. There have been fome modern criticks, Iknow, who won't allow this Ode in the Roman poet to be an al egory on the civil wars; but only a civil invitation to a fhatter'd fhip that bore one of Horace's friends, to ftay quietly in harbour. But we may as fafely, I think, go along with Quintilian, (who must have been, at leaft, as well informed in this matter) and he directly fays, the ship is the Roman commonwealth. Totufque etiam ille Horatii locus, quo navim pro republica, fluctuum tempeftates pro bellis civilibus, portum pro pace atque concardia dicit.Institur. Orator. lib, viii, cap. 6. De Tropis. Mr. Warburton.

The

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