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