But see where Somerset and Clarence comes:
Speake suddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends?
  Clar. Feare not that, my Lord

   Warw. Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke,
And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardize,
To rest mistrustfull, where a Noble Heart
Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue;
Else might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother,
Were but a fained friend to our proceedings:
But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine.
And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture,
Thy Brother being carelessely encamp'd,
His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about,
And but attended by a simple Guard,
Wee may surprize and take him at our pleasure,
Our Scouts haue found the aduenture very easie:
That as Vlysses, and stout Diomede,
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds;
So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle,
At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard,
And seize himselfe: I say not, slaughter him,
For I intend but onely to surprize him.
You that will follow me to this attempt,
Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.

They all cry, Henry.

Why then, let's on our way in silent sort,
For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.

Exeunt.

Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.

  1.Watch. Come on my Masters, each man take his stand,
The King by this, is set him downe to sleepe

   2.Watch. What, will he not to Bed?
  1.Watch. Why, no: for he hath made a solemne Vow,
Neuer to lye and take his naturall Rest,
Till Warwicke, or himselfe, be quite supprest

   2.Watch. To morrow then belike shall be the day,
If Warwicke be so neere as men report

   3.Watch. But say, I pray, what Noble man is that,
That with the King here resteth in his Tent?
  1.Watch. 'Tis the Lord Hastings, the Kings chiefest
friend

   3.Watch. O, is it so? but why commands the King,
That his chiefe followers lodge in Townes about him,
While he himselfe keepes in the cold field?
  2.Watch. 'Tis the more honour, because more dangerous

   3.Watch. I, but giue me worship, and quietnesse,
I like it better then a dangerous honor.
If Warwicke knew in what estate he stands,
'Tis to be doubted if he would waken him

   1.Watch. Vnlesse our Halberds did shut vp his passage

   2.Watch. I: wherefore else guard we his Royall Tent,
But to defend his Person from Night-foes?
Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset, and French
Souldiors, silent
all.

  Warw. This is his Tent, and see where stand his Guard:
Courage my Masters: Honor now, or neuer:
But follow me, and Edward shall be ours

   1.Watch. Who goes there?
  2.Watch. Stay, or thou dyest.

Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke, and set vpon
the
Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme, Warwicke and the rest
following them.

The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding. Enter Warwicke,
Somerset, and
the rest, bringing the King out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire:
Richard
and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage

   Som. What are they that flye there?
  Warw. Richard and Hastings: let them goe, heere is
the Duke

   K.Edw. The Duke?
Why Warwicke, when wee parted,
Thou call'dst me King

   Warw. I, but the case is alter'd.
When you disgrac'd me in my Embassade,
Then I degraded you from being King,
And come now to create you Duke of Yorke.
Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome,
That know not how to vse Embassadors,
Nor how to be contented with one Wife,
Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly,
Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare,
Nor how to shrowd your selfe from Enemies?
  K.Edw. Yea, Brother of Clarence,
Art thou here too?
Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe.
Yet Warwicke, in despight of all mischance,
Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices,
Edward will alwayes beare himselfe as King:
Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my State,
My minde exceedes the compasse of her Wheele

   Warw. Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,

Takes off his Crowne.

But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne,
And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow.
My Lord of Somerset, at my request,
See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'd
Vnto my Brother Arch-Bishop of Yorke:
When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes,
Ile follow you, and tell what answer
Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.
Now for a-while farewell good Duke of Yorke.

They leade him out forcibly.

  K.Ed. What Fates impose, that men must needs abide;
It boots not to resist both winde and tide.

Exeunt.

  Oxf. What now remaines my Lords for vs to do,
But march to London with our Soldiers?
  War. I, that's the first thing that we haue to do,
To free King Henry from imprisonment,
And see him seated in the Regall Throne.
Enter.

Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.

  Riu. Madam, what makes you in this sodain change?
  Gray. Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learne
What late misfortune is befalne King Edward?
  Riu. What losse of some pitcht battell
Against Warwicke?
  Gray. No, but the losse of his owne Royall person

   Riu. Then is my Soueraigne slaine?
  Gray. I almost slaine, for he is taken prisoner,
Either betrayd by falshood of his Guard,
Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares:
And as I further haue to vnderstand,
Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke,
Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe

   Riu. These Newes I must confesse are full of greefe,
Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may,
Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day

   Gray. Till then, faire hope must hinder liues decay:
And I the rather waine me from dispaire
For loue of Edwards Off-spring in my wombe:
This is it that makes me bridle passion,
And beare with Mildnesse my misfortunes crosse:
I, I, for this I draw in many a teare,
And stop the rising of blood-sucking sighes,
Least with my sighes or teares, I blast or drowne
King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th' English Crowne

   Riu. But Madam,
Where is Warwicke then become?
  Gray. I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
To set the Crowne once more on Henries head,
Guesse thou the rest, King Edwards Friends must downe.
But to preuent the Tyrants violence,
(For trust not him that hath once broken Faith)
Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary,
To saue (at least) the heire of Edwards right:
There shall I rest secure from force and fraud:
Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye,
If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.

Exeunt.

Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley.

  Rich. Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley
Leaue off to wonder why I drew you hither,
Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke.
Thus stand the case: you know our King, my Brother,
Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands
He hath good vsage, and great liberty,
And often but attended with weake guard,
Come hunting this way to disport himselfe.
I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes,
That if about this houre he make this way,
Vnder the colour of his vsuall game,
He shall heere finde his Friends with Horse and Men,
To set him free from his Captiuitie.
Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman with him.

  Huntsman. This way my Lord,
For this way lies the Game

   King Edw. Nay this way man,
See where the Huntsmen stand.
Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
Stand you thus close to steale the Bishops Deere?
  Rich. Brother, the time and case, requireth hast,
Your horse stands ready at the Parke-corner

   King Ed. But whether shall we then?
  Hast. To Lyn my Lord,
And shipt from thence to Flanders

   Rich. Wel guest beleeue me, for that was my meaning
  K.Ed. Stanley, I will requite thy forwardnesse

   Rich. But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talke

   K.Ed. Huntsman, what say'st thou?
Wilt thou go along?
  Hunts. Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd

   Rich. Come then away, lets ha no more adoo

   K.Ed. Bishop farwell,
Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,
And pray that I may re-possesse the Crowne.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke,
Somerset, young
Henry, Oxford, Mountague, and Lieutenant.

  K.Hen. M[aster]. Lieutenant, now that God and Friends
Haue shaken Edward from the Regall seate,
And turn'd my captiue state to libertie,
My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes,
At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?
  Lieu. Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains
But, if an humble prayer may preuaile,
I then craue pardon of your Maiestie

   K.Hen. For what, Lieutenant? For well vsing me?
Nay, be thou sure, Ile well requite thy kindnesse.
For that it made my imprisonment, a pleasure:
I, such a pleasure, as incaged Birds
Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts,
At last, by Notes of Houshold harmonie,
They quite forget their losse of Libertie.
But Warwicke, after God, thou set'st me free,
And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee,
He was the Author, thou the Instrument.
Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight,
By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this blessed Land
May not be punisht with my thwarting starres,
Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne,
I here resigne my Gouernment to thee,
For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds

   Warw. Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous,
And now may seeme as wise as vertuous,
By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice,
For few men rightly temper with the Starres:
Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace,
For chusing me, when Clarence is in place

   Clar. No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the sway,
To whom the Heau'ns in thy Natiuitie,
Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne,
As likely to be blest in Peace and Warre:
And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent

   Warw. And I chuse Clarence onely for Protector

   King. Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands:
Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts,
That no dissention hinder Gouernment:
I make you both Protectors of this Land,
While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life,
And in deuotion spend my latter dayes,
To sinnes rebuke, and my Creators prayse

   Warw. What answeres Clarence to his Soueraignes
will?
  Clar. That he consents, if Warwicke yeeld consent,
For on thy fortune I repose my selfe

   Warw. Why then, though loth, yet must I be content:
Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadow
To Henries Body, and supply his place;
I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment,
While he enioyes the Honor, and his ease.
And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor,
And all his Lands and Goods confiscate

   Clar. What else? and that Succession be determined

   Warw. I, therein Clarence shall not want his part

   King. But with the first, of all your chiefe affaires,
Let me entreat (for I command no more)
That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward,
Be sent for, to returne from France with speed:
For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare,
My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd

   Clar. It shall bee done, my Soueraigne, with all
speede

   King. My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that,
Of whom you seeme to haue so tender care?
  Somers. My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Richmond

   King. Come hither, Englands Hope:

Layes his Hand on his Head.

If secret Powers suggest but truth
To my diuining thoughts,
This prettie Lad will proue our Countries blisse.
His Lookes are full of peacefull Maiestie,
His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne,
His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfe
Likely in time to blesse a Regall Throne:
Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee
Must helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee.
Enter a Poste.

  Warw. What newes, my friend?
  Poste. That Edward is escaped from your Brother,
And fled (as hee heares since) to Burgundie

   Warw. Vnsauorie newes: but how made he escape?
  Poste. He was conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloster,
And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
In secret ambush, on the Forrest side,
And from the Bishops Huntsmen rescu'd him:
For Hunting was his dayly Exercise

   Warw. My Brother was too carelesse of his charge.
But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouide
A salue for any sore, that may betide.

Exeunt.

Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.

  Som. My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards:
For doubtlesse, Burgundie will yeeld him helpe,
And we shall haue more Warres befor't be long.
As Henries late presaging Prophecie
Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond:
So doth my heart mis-giue me, in these Conflicts,
What may befall him, to his harme and ours.
Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst,
Forthwith wee'le send him hence to Brittanie,
Till stormes be past of Ciuill Enmitie

   Oxf. I: for if Edward re-possesse the Crowne,
'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall downe

   Som. It shall be so: he shall to Brittanie.
Come therefore, let's about it speedily.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings, and Souldiers.

  Edw. Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends,
And sayes, that once more I shall enterchange
My wained state, for Henries Regall Crowne.
Well haue we pass'd, and now re-pass'd the Seas,
And brought desired helpe from Burgundie.
What then remaines, we being thus arriu'd
From Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke,
But that we enter, as into our Dukedome?
  Rich. The Gates made fast?
Brother, I like not this.
For many men that stumble at the Threshold,
Are well fore-told, that danger lurkes within

   Edw. Tush man, aboadments must not now affright vs:
By faire or foule meanes we must enter in,
For hither will our friends repaire to vs

   Hast. My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to summon
them.
Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke, and his Brethren.

  Maior. My Lords,
We were fore-warned of your comming,
And shut the Gates, for safetie of our selues;
For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry

   Edw. But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King,
Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of Yorke

   Maior. True, my good Lord, I know you for no
lesse

   Edw. Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome,
As being well content with that alone

   Rich. But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose,
Hee'le soone finde meanes to make the Body follow

   Hast. Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt?
Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends

   Maior. I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.

He descends.

  Rich. A wise stout Captaine, and soone perswaded

   Hast. The good old man would faine that all were wel,
So 'twere not long of him: but being entred,
I doubt not I, but we shall soone perswade
Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason.
Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.

  Edw. So, Master Maior: these Gates must not be shut,
But in the Night, or in the time of Warre.
What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,

Takes his Keyes.

For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee,
And all those friends, that deine to follow mee.

March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme and Souldiers.

  Rich. Brother, this is Sir Iohn Mountgomerie,
Our trustie friend, vnlesse I be deceiu'd

   Edw. Welcome Sir Iohn: but why come you in
Armes?
  Mount. To helpe King Edward in his time of storme,
As euery loyall Subiect ought to doe

   Edw. Thankes good Mountgomerie:
But we now forget our Title to the Crowne,
And onely clayme our Dukedome,
Till God please to send the rest

   Mount. Then fare you well, for I will hence againe,
I came to serue a King, and not a Duke:
Drummer strike vp, and let vs march away.

The Drumme begins to march.

  Edw. Nay stay, Sir Iohn, a while, and wee'le debate
By what safe meanes the Crowne may be recouer'd

   Mount. What talke you of debating? in few words,
If you'le not here proclaime your selfe our King,
Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be gone,
To keepe them back, that come to succour you.
Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title?
  Rich. Why Brother, wherefore stand you on nice
points?
  Edw. When wee grow stronger,
Then wee'le make our Clayme:
Till then, 'tis wisdome to conceale our meaning

   Hast. Away with scrupulous Wit, now Armes must
rule

   Rich. And fearelesse minds clyme soonest vnto Crowns.
Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand,
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends

   Edw. Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right,
And Henry but vsurpes the Diademe

   Mount. I, now my Soueraigne speaketh like himselfe,
And now will I be Edwards Champion

   Hast. Sound Trumpet, Edward shal be here proclaim'd:
Come, fellow Souldior, make thou proclamation.

Flourish. Sound.

  Soul. Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of God, King of
England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c

   Mount. And whosoe're gainsayes King Edwards right,
By this I challenge him to single fight.

Throwes downe his Gauntlet.

  All. Long liue Edward the Fourth

   Edw. Thankes braue Mountgomery,
And thankes vnto you all:
If fortune serue me, Ile requite this kindnesse.
Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Yorke:
And when the Morning Sunne shall rayse his Carre
Aboue the Border of this Horizon,
Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates;
For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier.
Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beseemes thee,
To flatter Henry, and forsake thy Brother?
Yet as wee may, wee'le meet both thee and Warwicke.
Come on braue Souldiors: doubt not of the Day,
And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague, Clarence,
Oxford, and
Somerset.

  War. What counsaile, Lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hastie Germanes, and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pass'd in safetie through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troupes doth march amaine to London,
And many giddie people flock to him

   King. Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe

   Clar. A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which being suffer'd, Riuers cannot quench

   War. In Warwickshire I haue true-hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre,
Those will I muster vp: and thou Sonne Clarence
Shalt stirre vp in Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent,
The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee.
Thou Brother Mountague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find
Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st.
And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well belou'd,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster vp thy friends.
My Soueraigne, with the louing Citizens,
Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean,
Or modest Dyan, circled with her Nymphs,
Shall rest in London, till we come to him:
Faire Lords take leaue, and stand not to reply.
Farewell my Soueraigne

   King. Farewell my Hector, and my Troyes true hope

   Clar. In signe of truth, I kisse your Highnesse Hand

   King. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate

   Mount. Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leaue

   Oxf. And thus I seale my truth, and bid adieu

   King. Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewell

   War. Farewell, sweet Lords, let's meet at Couentry.

Exeunt.

  King. Here at the Pallace will I rest a while.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinkes your Lordship?
Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field,
Should not be able to encounter mine

   Exet. The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest

   King. That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame:
I haue not stopt mine eares to their demands,
Nor posted off their suites with slow delayes,
My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds,
My mildnesse hath allay'd their swelling griefes,
My mercie dry'd their water-flowing teares.
I haue not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much opprest them with great Subsidies,
Nor forward of reuenge, though they much err'd.
Then why should they loue Edward more then me?
No Exeter, these Graces challenge Grace:
And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe,
The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.

Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.

  Exet. Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are
these?
Enter Edward and his Souldiers.

  Edw. Seize on the shamefac'd Henry, beare him hence,
And once againe proclaime vs King of England.
You are the Fount, that makes small Brookes to flow,
Now stops thy Spring, my Sea shall suck them dry,
And swell so much the higher, by their ebbe.
Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.

Exit with King Henry.

And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course,
Where peremptorie Warwicke now remaines:
The Sunne shines hot, and if we vse delay,
Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd-for Hay

   Rich. Away betimes, before his forces ioyne,
And take the great-growne Traytor vnawares:
Braue Warriors, march amaine towards Couentry.

Exeunt.

Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two Messengers, and
others vpon the
Walls.

  War. Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford?
How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow?
  Mess .1. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward

   War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague?
Where is the Post that came from Mountague?
  Mess. 2. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troope.
Enter Someruile.

  War. Say Someruile, what sayes my louing Sonne?
And by thy guesse, how nigh is Clarence now?
  Someru. At Southam I did leaue him with his forces,
And doe expect him here some two howres hence

   War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme

   Someru. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes:
The Drum your Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke

   War. Who should that be? belike vnlook'd for friends

   Someru. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, and Souldiers.

  Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle

   Rich. See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall

   War. Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come?
Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd,
That we could heare no newes of his repayre

   Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates,
Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee,
Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy,
And he shall pardon thee these Outrages?
  War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confesse who set thee vp, and pluckt thee downe,
Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke

   Rich. I thought at least he would haue said the King,
Or did he make the Ieast against his will?
  War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift?
  Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue,
Ile doe thee seruice for so good a gift

   War. 'Twas I that gaue the Kingdome to thy Brother

   Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift

   War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe,
And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subiect

   Edw. But Warwickes King is Edwards Prisoner:
And gallant Warwicke, doe but answer this,
What is the Body, when the Head is off?
  Rich. Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore-cast,
But whiles he thought to steale the single Ten,
The King was slyly finger'd from the Deck:
You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace,
And tenne to one you'le meet him in the Tower

   Edw. 'Tis euen so, yet you are Warwicke still

   Rich. Come Warwicke,
Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe:
Nay when? strike now, or else the Iron cooles

   War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
And with the other, fling it at thy face,
Then beare so low a sayle, to strike to thee

   Edw. Sayle how thou canst,
Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend,
This Hand, fast wound about thy coale-black hayre,
Shall, whiles thy Head is warme, and new cut off,
Write in the dust this Sentence with thy blood,
Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more.
Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.

  War. Oh chearefull Colours, see where Oxford comes

   Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster

   Rich. The Gates are open, let vs enter too

   Edw. So other foes may set vpon our backs.
Stand we in good array: for they no doubt
Will issue out againe, and bid vs battaile;
If not, the Citie being but of small defence,
Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors in the same

   War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe.
Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.

  Mount. Mountague, Mountague, for Lancaster

   Rich. Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason
Euen with the dearest blood your bodies beare

   Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Victorie,
My minde presageth happy gaine, and Conquest.
Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.

  Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster

   Rich. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Haue sold their Liues vnto the House of Yorke,
And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold.
Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.

  War. And loe, where George of Clarence sweepes along,
Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile:
With whom, in vpright zeale to right, preuailes
More then the nature of a Brothers Loue.
Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call

   Clar. Father of Warwicke, know you what this meanes?
Looke here, I throw my infamie at thee:
I will not ruinate my Fathers House,
Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together,
And set vp Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwicke,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, vnnaturall,
To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre
Against his Brother, and his lawfull King.
Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath:
To keepe that Oath, were more impietie,
Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter.
I am so sorry for my Trespas made,
That to deserue well at my Brothers hands,
I here proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe:
With resolution, wheresoe're I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stirre abroad)
To plague thee, for thy foule mis-leading me.
And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee,
And to my Brother turne my blushing Cheekes.
Pardon me Edward, I will make amends:
And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more vnconstant

   Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd,
Then if thou neuer hadst deseru'd our hate

   Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like

   Warw. Oh passing Traytor, periur'd and vniust

   Edw. What Warwicke,
Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight?
Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?
  Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st

   Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way:
Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie.

Exeunt.

March. Warwicke and his companie followes.

Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth Warwicke
wounded.

  Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare,
For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all.
Now Mountague sit fast, I seeke for thee,
That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie.
Enter.

  Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe,
And tell me who is Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke?
Why aske I that? my mangled body shewes,
My blood, my want of strength, my sicke heart shewes,
That I must yeeld my body to the Earth,
And by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,
Whose Armes gaue shelter to the Princely Eagle,
Vnder whose shade the ramping Lyon slept,
Whose top-branch ouer-peer'd Ioues spreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde.
These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle,
Haue beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne,
To search the secret Treasons of the World:
The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood,
Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers:
For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue?
And who durst smile, when Warwicke bent his Brow?
Loe, now my Glory smear'd in dust and blood.
My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had,
Euen now forsake me; and of all my Lands,
Is nothing left me, but my bodies length.
Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust?
And liue we how we can, yet dye we must.
Enter Oxford and Somerset.

  Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are,
We might recouer all our Losse againe:
The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power.
Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye

   Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.
Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou did'st,
Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood,
That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake.
Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead

   Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last,
And to the latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke:
And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother.
And more he would haue said, and more he spoke,
Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault,
That mought not be distinguisht: but at last,
I well might heare, deliuered with a groane,
Oh farewell Warwicke

   Warw. Sweet rest his Soule:
Flye Lords, and saue your selues,
For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen

   Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence,
and the
rest.

  King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie:
But in the midst of this bright-shining Day,
I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious Sunne,
Ere he attaine his easefull Westerne Bed:
I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene
Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast,
And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs

   Clar. A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud,
And blow it to the Source from whence it came,
Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp,
For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme

   Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her:
If she haue time to breathe, be well assur'd
Her faction will be full as strong as ours

   King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends,
That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury.
We hauing now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way,
And as we march, our strength will be augmented:
In euery Countie as we goe along,
Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.

Exeunt.

Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young Edward, Somerset,
Oxford, and
Souldiers.

  Qu. Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse,
But chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes.
What though the Mast be now blowne ouer-boord,
The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost,
And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood?
Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee
Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad,
With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea,
And giue more strength to that which hath too much,
Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock,
Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd?
Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this.
Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that?
And Mountague our Top-Mast: what of him?
Our slaught'red friends, the Tackles: what of these?
Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor?
And Somerset, another goodly Mast?
The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
And though vnskilfull, why not Ned and I,
For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge?
We will not from the Helme, to sit and weepe,
But keepe our Course (though the rough Winde say no)
From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack.
As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire.
And what is Edward, but a ruthlesse Sea?
What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke?
All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke.
Say you can swim, alas 'tis but a while:
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke,
Bestride the Rock, the Tyde will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death.
This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderstand,
If case some one of you would flye from vs,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More then with ruthlesse Waues, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be auoided,
'Twere childish weakenesse to lament, or feare

   Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit,
Should, if a Coward heard her speake these words,
Infuse his Breast with Magnanimitie,
And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes.
I speake not this, as doubting any here:
For did I but suspect a fearefull man,
He should haue leaue to goe away betimes,
Least in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like spirit to himselfe.
If any such be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart, before we neede his helpe

   Oxf. Women and Children of so high a courage,
And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame.
Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather
Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue,
To beare his Image, and renew his Glories

   Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope,
Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at

   Qu. Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes

   Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing
else.
Enter a Messenger.

  Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand,
Readie to fight: therefore be resolute

   Oxf. I thought no lesse: it is his Policie,
To haste thus fast, to finde vs vnprouided

   Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse

   Qu. This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse

   Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.

Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and
Souldiers.

  Edw. Braue followers, yonder stands the thornie Wood,
Which by the Heauens assistance, and your strength,
Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp yet ere Night.
I need not adde more fuell to your fire,
For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out:
Giue signall to the fight, and to it Lords

   Qu. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say,
My teares gaine-say: for euery word I speake,
Ye see I drinke the water of my eye.
Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne
Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State vsurp'd,
His Realme a slaughter-house, his Subiects slaine,
His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent:
And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle.
You fight in Iustice: then in Gods Name, Lords,
Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence, Oxford,
Somerset.

  Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles.
Away with Oxford, to Hames Castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head.
Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake

   Oxf. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words

   Som. Nor I, but stoupe with patience to my fortune.

Exeunt.

  Qu. So part we sadly in this troublous World,
To meet with Ioy in sweet Ierusalem

   Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward,
Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life?
  Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes.
Enter the Prince.

  Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake.
What? can so young a Thorne begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
  Prince. Speake like a Subiect, prowd ambitious Yorke.
Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth,
Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou,
Whil'st I propose the selfe-same words to thee,
Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me answer to

   Qu. Ah, that thy Father had beene so resolu'd

   Rich. That you might still haue worne the Petticoat,
And ne're haue stolne the Breech from Lancaster

   Prince. Let Aesop fable in a Winters Night,
His Currish Riddles sorts not with this place

   Rich. By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word

   Qu. I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men

   Rich. For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold

   Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crooke-backe,
rather

   Edw. Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your tongue

   Clar. Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert

   Prince. I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull:
Lasciuious Edward, and thou periur'd George,
And thou mis-shapen Dicke, I tell ye all,
I am your better, Traytors as ye are,
And thou vsurp'st my Fathers right and mine

   Edw. Take that, the likenesse of this Rayler here.

Stabs him.

  Rich. Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agonie.

Rich[ard]. stabs him.

  Clar. And ther's for twitting me with periurie.

Clar[ence]. stabs him.

  Qu. Oh, kill me too

   Rich. Marry, and shall.

Offers to kill her.

  Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much

   Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with
words

   Edw. What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her
recouerie

   Rich. Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother:
Ile hence to London on a serious matter,
Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes

   Cla. What? what?
  Rich. Tower, the Tower.
Enter.

  Qu. Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy.
Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers!
They that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all:
Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
If this foule deed were by, to equall it.
He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe,
And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe.
What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake,
And I will speake, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes,
How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:
You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,
The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse,
But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,
Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off.
As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince

   King. Away with her, go beare her hence perforce

   Qu. Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere:
Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:
What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou

   Cla. By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease

   Qu. Good Clarence do: sweet Clarence do thou do it

   Cla. Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?
  Qu. I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe.
'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity
What wilt y not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard?
Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed:
Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe

   Ed. Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence,
  Qu. So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.

Exit Queene.

  Ed. Where's Richard gone

   Cla. To London all in post, and as I guesse,
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower

   Ed. He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence, discharge the common sort
With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,
And see our gentle Queene how well she fares,
By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.
Enter.

Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant on the
Walles.

  Rich. Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so
hard?
  Hen. I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather,
Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better:
'Good Gloster, and good Deuill, were alike,
And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord

   Rich. Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre

   Hen. So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from y Wolfe:
So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece,
And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.
What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte?
  Rich. Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde,
The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer,
  Hen. The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush;
And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird,
Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,
Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd

   Rich. Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet,
That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,
And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd

   Hen. I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus,
Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course,
The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy.
Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea
Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life:
Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,
My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point,
Then can my eares that Tragicke History.
But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?
  Rich. Think'st thou I am an Executioner?
  Hen. A Persecutor I am sure thou art,
If murthering Innocents be Executing,
Why then thou art an Executioner

   Rich. Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption

   Hen. Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first y didst presume,
Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:
And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare,
And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,
And many an Orphans water-standing-eye,
Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,
Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,
Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.
The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe,
The Night-Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time,
Dogs howl'd, and hiddeous Tempest shook down Trees:
The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,
And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung:
Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,
And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope,
To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree.
Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,
To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world:
And if the rest be true, which I haue heard,
Thou cam'st-
  Rich. Ile heare no more:
Dye Prophet in thy speech,

Stabbes him.

For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd

   Hen. I, and for much more slaughter after this,
O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee.

Dyes.

  Rich. What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted.
See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death.
O may such purple teares be alway shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house.
If any sparke of Life be yet remaining,
Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.

Stabs him againe.

I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare,
Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of:
For I haue often heard my Mother say,
I came into the world with my Legges forward.
Had I not reason (thinke ye) to make hast,
And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right?
The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de
O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth,
And so I was, which plainly signified,
That I should snarle, and bite, and play the dogge:
Then since the Heauens haue shap'd my Body so,
Let Hell make crook'd my Minde to answer it.
I haue no Brother, I am like no Brother:
And this word (Loue) which Gray-beards call Diuine,
Be resident in men like one another,
And not in me: I am my selfe alone.
Clarence beware, thou keept'st me from the Light,
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buzze abroad such Prophesies,
That Edward shall be fearefull of his life,
And then to purge his feare, Ile be thy death.
King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone,
Clarence thy turne is next, and then the rest,
Counting my selfe but bad, till I be best.
Ile throw thy body in another roome,
And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome.
Enter.

Flourish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hastings, Nurse,
and
Attendants.

  King. Once more we sit in Englands Royall Throne,
Re-purchac'd with the Blood of Enemies:
What valiant Foe-men, like to Autumnes Corne,
Haue we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride?
Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renowne,
For hardy and vndoubted Champions:
Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Sonne,
And two Northumberlands: two brauer men,
Ne're spurr'd their Coursers at the Trumpets sound.
With them, the two braue Beares, Warwick & Montague,
That in their Chaines fetter'd the Kingly Lyon,
And made the Forrest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus haue we swept Suspition from our Seate,
And made our Footstoole of Security.
Come hither Besse, and let me kisse my Boy:
Yong Ned, for thee, thine Vnckles, and my selfe,
Haue in our Armors watcht the Winters night,
Went all afoote in Summers scalding heate,
That thou might'st repossesse the Crowne in peace,
And of our Labours thou shalt reape the gaine

   Rich. Ile blast his Haruest, if your head were laid,
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thicke, to heaue,
And heaue it shall some waight, or breake my backe,
Worke thou the way, and that shalt execute

   King. Clarence and Gloster, loue my louely Queene,
And kis your Princely Nephew Brothers both

   Cla. The duty that I owe vnto your Maiesty,
I Seale vpon the lips of this sweet Babe

   Cla. Thanke Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks

   Rich. And that I loue the tree fro[m] whence y sprang'st:
Witnesse the louing kisse I giue the Fruite,
To say the truth, so Iudas kist his master,
And cried all haile, when as he meant all harme

   King. Now am I seated as my soule delights,
Hauing my Countries peace, and Brothers loues

   Cla. What will your Grace haue done with Margaret,
Reynard her Father, to the King of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ierusalem,
And hither haue they sent it for her ransome

   King. Away with her, and waft her hence to France:
And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately Triumphes, mirthfull Comicke shewes,
Such as befits the pleasure of the Court.
Sound Drums and Trumpets, farwell sowre annoy,
For heere I hope begins our lasting ioy.

Exeunt. omnes

FINIS. The third Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Duke
of
YORKE.