« EdellinenJatka »
K. Edw. Sail how thou canst,
Have Wind and Tide thy Friend,
This Hand, fast wound about thy Coal-black Hair,
Shall, whiles thy Head is warm, and new cut off,
Write in the Dust this Sentence with thy Blood,
Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.
Enter Oxford, with Drum and Colours.
Wur. O chearful Colours, see where Oxford comes.
Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster.
Gló. The Gates are open, let us enrer too.
K. Edw. So other Foes may set upon our Backs.
Stand we in good Array; for they no doubt
Will issue out again, and bid us Battel;
If not, the City being but of small defence,
We'll quickly rouze the Traitors in the same.
War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy help.
Enter Montague, with Drum and Colours.
Mont. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster.
Glo. Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason Even with the dearest Blood your Bodies bear.
K. Edw. The harder match'd, the greater Vi&tory, My Mind presageth happy Gain, and Conquest.
Enter Somerset, with Drum and Colours.
Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster.
Glo. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Have sold their Lives un'o the House of York,
And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold.
Enter Clarence, with Drum and Colours.
War. And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along.
OF force enough to bid his Brother Battel:
With whom an upright Zeal to right prevails
More than the Nature of a Brother's Love.
Come Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call.
Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this means?
Look here, I throw my Infamy at thee:
I will not ruinate my Father's House,
Who gave his Blood to lime the Stones together,
And set up Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is so harsh, so lunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal Instruments of War
Against his Brother, and his lawful King.
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy Oath:
Than Fepthah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter. .
I am so sorry for my Trespass made,
That to deserve well at my Brother's Hands,
I here proclaim my self thy mortal Foe:
With Resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stir Abroad,)
To plague thee for thy foul miss-leading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defie thee,
And to my Brother turn my blushing Cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends :
And Richard, do not frown upon my Faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
K. Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belov'd,
Than if thou never had'st deserv'd my Hate.
Glo. Welcome, good Clarence, this is Brother-like.
War. O palling Traitor, perjur'd and unjust.
K. Edw. What Warwick,
Wilt thou leave the Town and fight?
Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Ears?
War. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee Battel, Edward, if thou dar'ft.
K. Edw. Yes Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way:
Lords to the Field; St. George and Vi&ory. [Excunt.
March. Warwick and his Company follows.
Alarum and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing forth War-
K, Edw. So, lye thou there; die thou, and die our fear,
For Warwick was a Bug that fear'd us all.
Now Montague fit fast, I seek for thee,
That Warwick's Bones may keep thine Company, [Exit.
War. Ah, who is nigh? Come to me, Friend, or Foe,
And tell me who is Vi&or, Tork, or Warwick?
Why ask I that? my mangled Body shews,
My Blood, my want of Strength, my sick Heart shews,
That I must yield my Body
to the Earth,
And by my fall, the conquest to my Foe.
Thus yields the Cedar to the Ax's edge,
Whose Arms gave shelter to the Princely Eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping Lion slept,
Whose top-branch over-peerd Jove's Ipreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winter's pow'rful Wird.
These Eyes, that now are dimn'd with Death's black Veil,
Have been as piercing as the Mid-day Sun,
To search the secret Treasons of the World:
The wrinkles in my Brows, now fill'd with Blood,
Were lik’ned oft to Kingly Sepulchres:
For who liv'd King, but I could dig his Grave?
And who durft smile, when Warwick bent his Brow?
Lo, now my Glory smear'd in Duft and Blood,
My Parks, my Walks, my Mannors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and of all my Lands,
Is nothing left me, but my Body's length.
Why, what is Pomp, Rule, Reign, but Earth and Dust?
And live we how we can, yet die we must:
Enter Oxford and Somerset.
Som. Ah Warwick, Warwick, wert thou as we are,
We might recover all our Loss again :
The Queen from France hath brought a puissant Power,
Even now we heard the News: Ah, could'st thou fly.
War. Why then I would not fly. Ah Montague,
If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
And with thy Lips keep in my Soul a while.
Thou lov'st me not; for, Brother, if thou didst,
Thy Tears would wash this cold congealed Blood,
That glews my Lips, and will not let me speak.
Come quickly Montague, or I am dead.
Som. Ah Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his last,
And to the latest gasp, cry'd out for Warwick:
And Said, commend me to my valiant Brother.
And more he would have said, and more he spoke,
And founded like a Cannon in a Vault,
That mought not be distinguish'd; but at last,
I well might hear delivered with a Groan,
O farewel Warwick.
War. Sweet rest his Soul;
Fly Lords, and save your felves,
For Warwick bids you all farewel, to meet in Heaven. [Dies.
Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queen's great Power.
Here they bear away his Body. [Exeunt.
Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Gloucester,
Clarence, and the rest.
K. Edw. Thus far our Fortune keeps an upward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of Vi&ory;
But in the midst of this bright-shining Day,
I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud,
That will encounter with our glorious Sun,
E'er he attain his easeful Western Bed:
I mean, my Lords, those Powers that the Queen
Hath rais'd in Gallia, have arriv'd our Coast,
And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.
Clar. A little Gale will soon disperse that Cloud,
And blow it to the Source from whence it came;
Thy very Beams will dry those Vapours up,
For every Cloud, engenders not a Storm.
Glo. The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her;
If the hath time to breathe, be well assur'd
Her Faction will be full as strong as ours.
K. Edw. We are advertis’d by our loving Friends,
That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury.
We having now the best at Barnet Field,
Will thither straight, for willingness rids way,
And as we march, our strength will be augmented,
In every Country as we go along :
Strike up the Drum, cry Courage, and away. [Exeunt.
March. Enter the Queen, Prince of Wales, Somerset,
Oxford, and Soldiers. Queen. Great Lords, wise Men ne'er fit and wail their But chearly seek how to redress their Harms. [Loss, What though the Mast be now blown over-board, The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor loft, And half our Sailors swallow'd in the Flood ? Yet lives our Pilot ftill. Is't meet that he Should leave the Helm, and like a fearful Lad, With tearful Eyes add Water to the Sea, And give more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles in his moan, the Ship splits on the Rock, Which Industry and Courage might have fav’d? Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this. Say, Warwick was our Anchor; what of that?
And Montague our Top-mast; what of him?
Our flaughter'd Friends, the Tackles; what of these?
Why is not Oxford here another Anchor?
And Somerset, another goodly Mast?
The Friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
And though unskilful, why not Ned and I,
For once allow'd the skilful Pilot's Charge?
We will not from the Helm to fit and weep,
But keep our Course, though the rough Wind say no,
From Shelves and Rocks, that threaten us with Wrack.
As good to chide the Waves, as speak them fair.
And what is Edward, but a ruthless Sea ?
What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a ragged fatal Rock?
All these, the Enemies to our poor Bark.
Say you can swim, alas, 'tis but a while ;
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly fink;
Bestride the Rock, the Tide will wath you off,
Or else you fami/h, that's a three-fold Death.
This speak 1, Lords, to let you understand,
In case some one of you would fly from us,
That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers,
More than with ruhless Waves, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be avoided,
Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.
Prince. Methinks a Woman of this valiant Spirit
Should, if a Coward heard her speak these words,
Infuse his Breast with Magnanimity,
And make him, naked, foil a Man at Arms.
I speak not this, as doubting any here :
For did I but suspect a fearful Man,
He Tould have leave to go away betimes,
Left in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like Spirit to himself.
If any such be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart before we need his help.
Oxf. Women and Children of so high a Courage,
And Warriors faint ! why 'were perpetual Shame.
Oh brave young Prince! thy famous Grandfather
Doth live again in thee; long may'st thou live,
To bear his Image, and renew his Glories.