Enter a MESSENGER. Warwick. How now, what news! Messenger. Prepare you, noble Lords! The Duke of Clarence sends you word by me, The Queen is coming with a powerful host; He craves your company for speedy counsel. Warwick. Then all is well :-brave warriors, let's away. [Exeunt. SCENE II. York. Enter KING HENRY, the QUEEN, PRINCE OF WALES, CLIFFORD, and SOMERSET. Queen. Welcome, my Lord, to this brave town of York. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, That sought to be encompass'd with your crown. This sight, believe me, pains my very soul. Clifford. My gracious Liege, this timeless lenity, And dang'rous pity, must be laid aside. To whom do Lions cast their gentle looks? Who 'scapes the lurking serpent's mortal sting? on, The smallest worm will turn, if trodden Be not more senseless than the feather'd race, Make fearless war with him, that climbs their nest, Should lose his birthright by his father's fault. Inferring arguments of mighty force. But, Clifford, tell me, didst thou never hear Queen. My Lord, cheer up your sp'rits; our foes are nigh, And this soft courage makes your followers faint.You promis'd knighthood to our gracious son: Unsheath your sword, and prosper Heav'n the deed! King Henry. Edward Plantagenet, arise a knight; And learn this lesson; draw thy sword in right! Prince. I'll draw it, honor'd father, by your leave, As heir apparent to the crown of England: And in that cause I'll shed my life's warm blood. Clifford. O mayst thou live, to lay the parching dust With show'rs of blood from slaughter'd enemies! Enter a MESSENGER. Messenger. Royal commanders, be in readiness! For with a band of twenty thousand men Comes, Warwick, backing the young Duke of York. And in the country, as they march along, Proclaims him King, and many fly to him. Prepare your battle, for they are at hand. Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble lords, And knit their sinews in your just defence. I have a thousand spirits in one breast, To answer twenty thousand such as York. Unsheath your sword, good father, cry St. George! ACT II.-SCENE I. A field of battle near Towton in Yorkshire. Alarm Excursions-Fight. Enter WARWICK. SORE spent with toil, as runners with a race, I lay me down a little while to breathe. For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid Have robb'd my strong knit sinews of their strength. And, come what will, needs must I rest awhile. Enter EDWARD running. Edward. Smile, gentle heav'n, or strike, unfriendly death! O let us die, or nobly gain the day. What fatal star malignant frowns from heav'n Upon the house of York! Clarence. Enter CLARENCE. Rouze, rouze, my brother, Straight let us hasten to the field again, Edward. Thus sorely check'd, our hope is flat despair. Our ranks are broken, ruin follows us. Warwick. Who talks of ruin? what the royal Edward! Unmanly weakness, hence! for at the name Of ruin to our cause, a thousand swords Shall from their scabbards leap, at Warwick's call. Now Richard, how's the day?' Ah luckless day! Richard, (entering.) Fitz-Walter, leading his victorious host To join our forces, and ensure success, By Clifford's army was surpriz'd and fell. And, in the very pangs of death, he cried: Warwick, revenge my death!-beneath their steeds, That stain'd their fetlocks in his blood, he died.. Warwick. Then let the earth be satiated with blood! [he draws his sword, and rushes out-return ing he says, I've kill'd my horse, because I would not fly.-- Edward. Yes, Warwick, I will bend my knee with thine, |