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,
Have wrought the easy melting king, like wax.
He fwore 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 against the houfe of Lancaster.
Their power, I think, is thirty thousand strong;
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 bestride our foaming steeds,
And once again cry, “ Charge upon our foes!"

But never once again turn back, and fly.

RICH. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick speak: Ne'er may he live to fee a fun fhine, day,

That cries, retire,

-if Warwick bid him stay.

EDW. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will 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 steel, As thou haft fhewn it flinty by thy deeds,

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

EDW Then strike up drums; God and St. George for us! Enter a Messenger.

WAR. How now? what news?

MES. The duke of Norfolk fends you word by me, is coming with a puissant host;

The queen

And craves your company for speedy counsel.

WAR. Why then it forts; brave warriors, let's away.

SCENE III. Changes to York,

Enter King Henry, the Queen, Clifford, Northumberland, and the Prince of Wales, with drums and trumpets.

QUEEN. Welcome, 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. HEN. 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 aside.

To whom do lions caft their gentle looks?
Not to the beast, that would usurp their den.
Whofe hand is that the foreft beast doth lick?

Not his that spoils her young before her face.
Who 'scapes the lurking ferpent's mortal sting ?
Not he that fets his foot upon her back,

The smallest worm will turn being trodden on;
And doves will peck in safeguard of their brood.
Ambitious York did level at thy crown;
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry brows.
He but a duke, would have his fon a king,
And raise his issue, like a loving fire:
Thou being a king, bleft with a goodly fon,
Didft yield confent to difinherit him,
Which argu'd thee a most 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 seen them (even with thofe wings,
Which fometimes they have us'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 say unto his child,

"What my great grandfather and grandfire got,
"My careless father fondly gave away!"
Ah, what a fhame was this! look on the boy,
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successful fortune, steel thy melting heart

To hold thine own, and leave thine own with him.
K. HEN. 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,
Whole 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, cousin York; 'would, thy best friends did know,
How it doth grieve me that thy head is here!

QUEEN. My lord, cheer up your fpirits, 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 prefently.
Edward, kneel down.

;

K. HEN. Edward Plantagenet, arife 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 use it to the death.

CLIF. Why that is fpoken like a toward prince.

Enter a Meffenger.

MEL. 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.

CFIF. I would your highness would depart the field, The queen hath best success, 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 sword, good father; cry St. George!

SCENE IV. 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 fovereign and thy lawful king?

EDw. I am his king, and he should bow his keee;

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 caus'd 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?

Or

RICH. Are you there, butcher ?-O, I cannot speak.

CLIF. Ay, Crook-back, here I ftand to answer thee,

any he the proudeft of thy fort.

RICH. 'Twas you that kill'd young Rutland, was it not? CLIF. Ay, and old York, and yet not fatisfy'd.

RICH. For God's fake lords, give fignal to the fight. WAR. What fay'ft thou, Henry, wilt thou yield the

crown?

QUEEN. Why, how now, long-to ngu'd Warwick, dare you speak?