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.

William Shakespeare
Classic Literature Library

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