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.