Fell gently down, as if they ftruck their friends,
I cheer'd them up with juftice of our caufe,
With promife of high pay and great reward;
But all in vain, they had no heart to fight:
And we, in them, no hope to win the day;
So that we fled; the King, unto the Queen;
Lord George your brother, Norfolk and myself,
In hafte, post-hafte, are come to join with you:
For in the marches here we heard you were,
Making another head to fight again.

power;

Edw. Where is the Duke of Norfolk, gentle Warwick? And when came George from Burgundy to England? War. Some fix miles off the Duke is with his And for your brother, he was lately fent From your kind aunt, Dutchefs of Burgundy, With aid of foldiers to this needful war.

Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled; Oft have I heard his praifes in purfuit,

But ne'er, till now his fcandal of retire.

War. Nor now my fcandal, Richard, doft thou hear: For thou fhalt know, this ftrong right hand of mine Can pluck the Diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful scepter from his fift; Were he as famous and as bold in war, As he is fam'd for mildness, peace and prayer.

Rich. I know it well, Lord Warwick; blame me not; 'Tis love, I bear thy glories, makes me speak., But in this troublous time what's to be done? Shall we go throw away our coats of steel, And wrap our bodies in black mourning gowns, Numb'ring our Ave Maries with our beads? Or fhall we on the helmets of our foes Tell our devotion with revengeful arms? If for the laft, fay, ay; and to it, Lords.

you

War. Why, therefore Warwick came to feek And therefore comes my brother Montague. Attend me, Lords: the proud infulting Queen, With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland, And of their feather many more proud birds,

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out;

Have

Have wrought the easy-melting King, like wax.
He swore confent to your fucceffion,
His oath inrolled in the parliament:
And now to London all the crew are gone,
To fruftrate both his oath, and what befide
May make againft the houfe of Lancaster.
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand ftrong:
Now if the help of Norfolk and myself,

With all the friends that thou, brave Earl of March,
Amongst the loving Welshmen canft procure,
Will but amount to five and twenty thousand:
Why, Via! to London will we march amain;
And once again beftride our foaming fteeds,
And once again cry, charge upon our foes!
But never once again turn back, and fly.

Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick fpeak:
Ne'er may he live to fee a fun-fhine day,
That cries, retire,if Warwick bid him ftay.

Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy fhoulder will I lean,
And when thou fail'ft, (as God forbid the hour!)
Muft Edward fall, which peril heaven forefend!
War. No longer Earl of March, but Duke of York;
The next degree is England's royal throne:
For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
In every borough as we pass along :

And he, that throws not up his cap for joy,
Shall for the fault make forfeit of his head.
King Edward, valiant Richard Montague,
Stay we no longer, dreaming of renown;
But found the trumpets, and about our task.

Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard as fteel, As thou haft fhewn it flinty by thy deeds,

I come to pierce it, or to give thee mine.

Edw. Then ftrike up, drums; God and St. George for us! Enter à Meffenger.

War. How now? what news?

Mef. The Duke of Norfolk fends you word by me, The Queen is coming with a puiffant hoft;

And

And craves your company for speedy counfel. War. Why then it forts; brave warriors, let's away. [Exeunt omnes.

SCENE changes to York.

Enter King Henry, the Queen, Clifford, Northumberland, and the Prince of Wales, with Drums and Trumpets.

Qu.

W

1

Elcome, my Lord, to this brave town of York. Yonder's the head of that arch-enemy, That fought to be encompast with your crown. Doth not the object cheer your heart, my Lord ? K. Henry. Ay, as the rocks cheer them, that fear their wreck;

To fee this fight, it irks my very foul:

With-hold revenge, dear God; tis not my fault,
Nor wittingly have I infring'd my vow.

Clif. My gracious Liege, this too much lenity
And harmful pity must be laid afide:

To whom do Lions caft their gentle looks?
Not to the beaft, that would ufurp their den.
Whofe hand is that the foreft bear doth lick?:
Not his, that fpoils her young before her face.
Who 'fcapes the lurking ferpent's mortal fting?
Not he, that fets his foot upon her back.

The fmalleft worm will turn, being trodden on;
And doves will peck in fafeguard of their brood.
Ambitious Fork did level at thy crown;
Thou fmiling, while he knit his
angry brows.
He but a Duke, would have his fon a King;
And raife his iffue, like a loving fire;
Thou being a King, bleft with a goodly fon,
Didft yield confent to difinherit him;
Which argu'd thee a moft unloving father.
Unreasonable creatures feed their young;
And tho' man's face be fearful to their eyes,
Yet, in protection of their tender ones,
Who hath not feen them (even with those wings,

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Which

Which fometimes they have as'd with fearful flight)
Make war with him that climb'd unto their neft,
Offering their own lives in their young's defence?
For fhame, my Liege, make them your precedent.
Were it not pity, that this goodly boy

Should lofe his birth-right by his father's fault;
And long hereafter fay unto his child,
What my great grandfather and grandfire got,
My careless father fondly gave away!

Ah, what a shame was this! look on the boy,
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, fteel thy melting heart

To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him.
K. Henry. Full well hath Clifford plaid the orator,
Inferring arguments of mighty force:

But, Clifford, tell me, didft thou never hear,
That things ill got had ever bad fuccefs ?
And happy always was it for that son,
Whofe father for his hoarding went to hell?
I'll leave my fon my virtuous deeds behind;
And 'would, my father had left me no more!
For all the reft is held at fuch a rate,

As brings a thousand-fold more care to keep,
Than in poffeffion any jot of pleasure.

Ah, Coufin York: 'would, thy best friends did know,
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

Queen. My Lord, cheer up your spirits, our foes are nigh; And this foft courage makes your followers faint; You promis'd knighthood to our forward fon, Unfheath your fword, and dub him presently. Edward, kneel down.

K. Henry. Edward Plantagenet, arise a Knight; And learn this leffon, draw thy fword in right. Prince. My gracious father, by your kingly leave I'll draw it as apparent to the crown,

And in that quarrel ufe it to the death.

Clif. Why, that is spoken like a toward Prince.

Enter

Enter a Meffenger.

Mef. Royal commanders, be in readiness;
For, with a band of thirty thousand men,
Comes Warwick, backing of the Duke of York:
And in the towns as they do march along,
Proclaims him King; and many fly to him.
Darraign your battle, for they are at hand.

Chf. I would, your highnefs would depart the field: The Queen hath beft fuccefs, when you are absent. Queen. Ay, good my Lord, and leave us to our fortune. K. Hen. Why, that's my fortune too; therefore I'll stay. North. Be it with refolution then to fight.

Prince. My royal father, cheer these noble Lords, And hearten those that fight in your defence: Unfheath your fword, good father; cry, St. George!

March. Enter Edward, Warwick, Richard, Clarence, Norfolk, Montague, and Soldiers.

Edw. Now, perjur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace, And fet thy Diadem upon my head;

Or 'bide the mortal fortune of the field?

Queen. Go rate thy minions, proud infulting boy. Becomes it thee to be thus bold in terms

Before thy Sovereign and thy lawful King?

Edw. I am his King, and he should bow his knee;

I was adopted heir by his confent ;

Since when, his oath is broke; for, as I hear,
You that are King, though he do wear the crown,
Have caufed him by new act of parliament

To blot out me, and put his own fon in.

Clif. And reafon too:

Who fhould fucceed the father, but the fon ?

Rich. Are you there, butcher? O, I cannot speak. Clif. Ay, crook-back, here I ftand to answer thee, Or any he the proudeft of thy fort.

Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not?

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Clif