Ere 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 valu'd thirty thousand strong,
And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her;

If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd,
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

K. Edw. We are advértis'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 county as we go along.-

Strike up the drum; cry-Courage! and away. [Exeunt.

SCENE IV.-Plains near Tewksbury.

March. Enter Queen MARGARET, Prince EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and Soldiers.

Q. Mar. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their

loss,

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.

What though the mast be now blown over-board,
The cable broke, the holding anchor lost,
And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood?

Yet lives our pilot still: 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 sav'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 slaughter'd friends the tackles; What of these?
Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?
And Somerset another goodly mast?

The friends of France our shrouds 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 sit and weep;

But keep our course, though the rough wind say-no,
From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck.
As good to chide the waves, as speak them fair.
And what is Edward, but a ruthless sea?
What Clarence, but a quicksand 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 sink :
Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a threefold death.
This speak I, 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 ruthless 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 should have leave to go away betimes;
Lest, 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, 'twere perpetual shame.-
O, brave young prince! thy famous grandfather
Doth live again in thee; Long may'st thou live,
To bear his image, and renew his glories!

Som. And he, that will not fight for such a hope,
Go home to bed, and, like the owl by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wonder'd at.

Q. Mar. Thanks, gentle Somerset ;-sweet Oxford, thanks.

Prince. And take his thanks, that yet hath nothing else.

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand, Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.

Oxf. I thought no less: it is his policy,

To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.

Som. But he's deceiv'd, we are in readiness.

Q. Mar. This cheers my heart, to see your forward

ness.

Orf. Here pitch our battle, hence we will not budge.

VOL. VIII.

March. Enter, at a distance, King EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces.

K. Edw. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood,

Which, by the heavens' assistance, and your strength, Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.

I need not add more fuel to your fire,

For, well I wot, ye blaze to burn them out:

Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.

Q. Mar. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should

say,

My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
Ye see, I drink the water of mine eyes.

Therefore, no more but this :-Henry, your sovereign,
Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
His realm a slaughterhouse, his subjects slain,
His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent ;
And yonder is the wolf, that makes this spoil.
You fight in justice: then, in God's name, lords,
Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.

[Exeunt both Armies.

SCENE V.-Another Part of the same.

Alarums: Excursions: and afterwards a Retreat. Then enter King EDWARD, CLARENCE, GLOSTER, and Forces; with Queen MARGARET, OXFORD, and SoMERSET, Prisoners.

K. Edw. Now, here a period of tumultuous broils. Away with Oxford to Hammes' castle straight:

For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.
Oxf. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
Som. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
[Exeunt OXFORD aud SOMERSET, guarded.
Q. Mar. So part we sadly in this troublous world,
To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem,

K. Edw. Is proclamation made, that, who finds Ed

ward,

Shall have a high reward, and he his life?

Glo. It is: and, lo, where youthful Edward comes.

Enter Soldiers, with Prince EDWARD.

K. Edw. Bring forth the gallant, let us hear him speak: What! can so young a thorn begin to prick? Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects, And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?

Prince. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York! Suppose, that I am now my father's mouth; Resign thy chair, and, where I stand, kneel thou, Whilst I propose the self-same words to thee, Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.

Q. Mar. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd! Glo. That you might still have worn the petticoat, And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.

Prince. Let Æsop fable in a winter's night; His currish riddles sort not with this place.

Glo. By heaven, brat, I'll plague you for that word. Q. Mar. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men. Glo. For God's sake, take away this captive scold.