SCENE II. A Field of Battle near Barnet. Alarums, and Excursions. Enter KING EDWARD, bringing in 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,
[Exit.
War. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend,

or foe,

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 liv'd 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 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 must.

Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET.

Som. Ah, Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as

we are,

We might recover all our loss again!

The queen from France hath brought a puissant

power:

Even now we heard the news: Ah, could'st thou fly!

War. Why, then I would not fly.-Ah, Mon

tague,

If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand, And with thy lips keep in my soul a while! Thou lov'st 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 breath'd his last;

And, to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick,
And said-Commend me to my valiant brother.
And more he would have said; and more he
spoke,

Which sounded like a cannon in a vault,
That might not be distinguish'd; but, at last,
I well might hear deliver'd with a groan,—
O, farewell, Warwick!

War.

Sweet rest to his soul!Fly, lords, and save yourselves: for Warwick

bids

You all farewell, to meet again in heaven. [Dies. Oxf. Away, away, to meet the queen's great power!

[Exeunt, bearing off WARWICK's Body,

SCENE III. Another Part of the Field. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD in triumph; with CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and the rest.

K. Edw. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,

And we are graced with wreaths of victory.
But, in the midst of this bright-shining day,
I spy a black, suspicions threat'ning cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious sun,
Ere he attain his easeful western bed:

I mean, my lords,-those powers, that the queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd 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; Thy very beams will dry those 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:
If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd,
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advertis'd 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.

[Exeunt.

SCENE IV. Plains near Tewksbury.

March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE ED WARD, 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 sav❜d?
Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!
Say, Warwick was our anchor! What of that?
And Montague our top-mast; 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,
Or else you famish, that's a threefold death.
This speak I, lords, to let you understand,
In case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the bro-
thers,

More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks.

Why, courage, then! what cannot be avoided, | 'Twere childish weakness to lament, or fear. Prince. Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit

Should, if a coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his breast with magnanimity,

And make him, naked, foil a man at arms.
I speak not this, as doubting any here:
For, did I but suspect a fearful man,
He should have leave to go away betimes;
Lest, in our need, he might infect another,
And make him of like spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid !
Let him depart, before we need his help.

Oxf. Women and children of so high a courage! And warriors faint! why, 'twere perpetual shame.

O, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather Doth live again in thee; Long may'st thou live, To bear his image, and renew his glories!

Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope, Go home to bed, and like the owl by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset :-sweet Oxford, thanks.

Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand,

Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

Orf. I thought no less it is his policy, To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided. Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness. Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.

Orf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not budge.

March. Enter, at a distance, KING EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

Which, the heavens' assistance, and your strength,

Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
I need not add more fuel to your fire,
For, well I wot, ye blaze to burn them out:
Give signal to the fight, and to it lords.

Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what
I should say,

My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.
Therefore, no more but this:-Henry, your so-
vereign,

Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp❜d,
His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent;
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.

[Exeunt both Armies.