Which industry and courage might have sav'd?
Say, Warwick was our anchor; what of that?
Our slaughter'd friends the tackles; what of these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast?

And why should not my Edward and myself
Be

yet allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?

We will not from the helm, to sit and weep:

But keep our course thro' stormy winds and waves.
Alas! there's no more mercy with the brothers,
Than with the ruthless waves, with sands and rocks.
Take courage then, what cannot be avoided
"Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.

We have been conqu'rors, we may conquer still. Prince Edward. O if there were a fearful heart among us,

Methinks a woman of this noble spirit,

Would swell it soon with fortitude and valor.
My fellow-soldiers—either dare to brave
The utmost fury of the House of York;
Or tear the red rose from your shrinking heads.
I will not stand aloof, and bid you fight,
But with my sword press in the thickest ranks,
And single Edward from his strongest guard,
And force him to resign his pow'r usurp'd,
Or leave my body to attest my vow!

Oxford. Women and children of so high a courage!
And warriors faint! O 'twere eternal shame.
O brave young Edward! thy illustrious grandsire
Is yet alive in thee! Long may'st thou live,

To bear his image, and renew his glories!

Somerset. And he, that will not fight for such a hope,

Hie to his home, and like the owl by day,

If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

Margaret. Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks!

Prince Edward. And take his thanks, who's nothing else to give.

Enter a MESSENGER.

Messenger. Prepare you, Lords- -for Edward is advancing :

His arms already glitter in the sun.

Prince Edward. We are prepar'd to meet the proud usurper.

What stronger breast-plate, than a heart untainted? Thrice is he arm'd, that hath his quarrel just;

And he but naked, tho' lock'd up

in steel,

Whose conscience with injustice is corrupted. Each to his post-our cause shall lend us force'Tis England's crown-an injur'd father's right!

[Exeunt.

E

SCENE IV. 4 Camp.

Fight-Alarm-Excursions.

Enter EDWARD, CLARENCE, RICHARD,
HASTINGS, &C.

Edward. Go bid the carnage cease: the day is ours. At length the period of our woes is come!

Henry once more is in the tow'r confined,
And haughty Margaret is in

Bring forth the pris'ners..

my pow'r.

Enter QUEEN MARGARET, SOMERSET, guarded.

Somerset! from thee

Justice demands the dread account of blood!

Away with him, off with his guilty head!

Somerset. More can I bear than you dare execute.

For true nobility is free from fear!

My Royal Mistress, 'tis for you I feel.—

Margaret. O my dear suff'ring friend-give me thy hand,

That I may dew it with my pitying tears!
Let not the rain of heaven wet this place,
To wash away my woeful monuments.-
Stay yet a little-thus condemn'd to die,

Two friends embrace, and take a thousand leaves;
And linger still, more loth to part than die;

Ah, now farewell—and farewell joy with thee! [SOMERSET is led out.

Edward. Is proclamation made, that who finds

Edward

"Shall be rewarded?

Richard.

Lo, where comes the youth.-

Edward. '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 mis'ries of a civil war?

Prince Edward. Speak like a subject, proud, ambitious York.

Suppose me speaking with my father's mouth,
Whilst I propose the self same words to thee,
Which, traitor, thou would'st have me answer to??
Edward. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm thy
tongue.

Prince Edward. I know my duty-and I tell you all,

I'm your superior-traitors as you are

And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.

Edward. Dost thou still rail, untutor'd boy? take that.

Edward. Ah, Richard, Clarence, you have done too much.

Richard. Why should he live to stir up arms against us!

Edward. See Margret swoons-use means for her relief.

Richard. Clarence, excuse me to the King, my

brother.

I'll hence to London on a serious matter.

Ere
you come there, expect to hear more news.
Our work is not complete-The tow'r, the tow'r!

[Exit. Margaret. O my sweet child! speak to thy mother, boy!

Canst thou not speak? ah no-his lips are cold.
Q traitors-murd'rers-bloody cannibals!
How sweet a plant you have untimely pluck'd!
Inhuman wretches-O you have defac'd
The sweetest and most perfect work of nature,
That from the prime creation e'er she framed!
You have no children-butchers, if you had,
The thought of them would sure have stirr'd remorse!
O God! in mercy take me to my Edward;
Unite once more the mother and the son!

Sure heav'n has not an angel like my child!
my sweet murder'd child!

Edward.

Be patient, Madam!

Margaret. What! does insulting York dare talk of

patience?

Came he e'en now to sing a raven's note,