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* And ne'er was Agamemnon's brother wrong'd
By that false woman, as this king by thee. · His father revell’d in the heart of France, And tam'd the king, and made the Dauphin stoop; And, had he match'd according to his state, He might have kept that glory to this day : But, when he took a beggar to his bed, And grac'd thy poor sire with his bridal day; • Even then that sunshine brew'd a shower for him, • That wash'd his father's fortunes forth of France, And heap'd sedition on his crown at home. - For what hath broach'd this tumult, but thy pride? Hadst thou been meek, our title still had slept; And we, in pity of the gentle king, Had slipp'd our claim until another age. • Geo. But, when we saw our sunshine made thy
spring, . And that thy summer bred us no increase, We set the axe to thy usurping root: And though the edge hath something hit ourselves, Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We'll never leave, till we have hewn thee down, Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.
Edw. And, in this resolution, I defy thee;
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.
A Field of Battle between Towton and Saxton in
Alarums: Excursions. Enter WARWICK. • War. Forspent 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, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile,
Enter EDWARD, running. Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle
death! For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded. War. How now, my lord? what hap? what hope
* Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair; Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us : What counsel give you, whither shall we fly?
Edw. Bootless is flight, they follow us with wings; And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
* Rich. Ah, Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn
thyself? Thy brother's blood the thirsty earth hath drunk, • Broach'd with the steely point of Clifford's lance:
* And, in the very pangs of death, he cried, -
So underneath the belly of their steeds, • That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood, • The noble gentleman gave up the ghost. · War. Then let the earth be drunken with our
blood : I'll kill my horse, because I will not fly. * Why stand we like soft-hearted women here,
Wailing our losses, whiles the foe doth rage; * And look upon, as if the tragedy * Were play'd in jest by counterfeiting actors? Here on my knee I vow to God above,
I'll never pause again, never stand still, <Till either death hath clos'd these
of mine, • Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with thine; 'And, in this vow, do chain my soul to thine.* And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter up and plucker down of kings !
Beseeching thee,-if with thy will it stands, « That to iny
foes this body must be prey, " Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope, And give sweet passage to my sinful soul!Now, lords, take leave until we meet again, Where-e'er it be, in heaven, or on earth. • Rich. Brother, give me thy hand ;-and, gentle
Warwick, • Let me embrace thee in niy weary arms :
Ś And are mere spectators.
* I, that did never weep, now melt with woe, • That winter should cut off our spring-time so. • War. Away, away! Once more, sweet lords,
farewell. Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops, • And give them leave to fly that will not stay ; And call them pillars, that will stand to us; * And, if we thrive, promise them such rewards *As victors wear at the Olympian games: * This may plant courage in their quailing? breasts; * For yet is hope of life, and victory.* Fore-slow 8 no longer, make we hence amain.
Another Part of the Field.
Excursions. Enter RICHARD and CLIFFORD.
Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone : Suppose, this arm is for the duke of York,
And this for Rutland; both bound to revenge, "Wert thou environ'd with a brazen wall.
Clif. Now, Richard, I am with thee here alone : This is the hand, that stabb'd thy father York ; And this the hand that slew thy brother Rutland; And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death, And cheers these hands, that slew thy sire and bro
ther, To execute the like
upon thyself; And so, have at thee,
[They fight. WARWICK enters ; CLIPYORD flies. * Rich. Nay, Warwick, single out some other
7 Sinking into dejection. 8 To fore slow is to be dilatory, to lo
chase; For I myself will hunt this wolf to death. [Exeunt.
Another Part of the Field.
Alarum. Enter King HENRY. * K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morning's
war, * When dying clouds contend with growing light; • What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, * Can neither call it perfect day, nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea, Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind;
like the self-same sea • Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind : Sometime, the flood prevails; and then, the wind; Now, one the better; then, another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, * Yet neither conqueror, nor conquered : • So is the equal poise of this fell war. * Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory! * For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, • Have chid me from the battle ; swearing both,
They prosper best of all when I am thence. ''Would I were dead! if God's good will were so : * For what is in this world, but grief and woe? * O God! methinks, it were a happy life, • To be no better than a homely swain;