'Ah, would she break from hence! that this my body Might in the ground be closed up in rest: For never henceforth shall I joy again, 'Never, O never, shall I see more joy. 'Rich. I cannot weep; for all my body's moisture Scarce serves to quench my furnace-burning heart: *Nor can my tongue unload my heart's great burden; *For self-same wind, that I should speak withal, * Is kindling coals, that fire all my breast, * And burn me up with flames, that tears would quench. * To weep, is to make less the depth of grief: * Tears, then, for babes; blows, and revenge, for 6 me! Richard, I bear thy name, I'll venge thy death, 'Or die renowned by attempting it. Edw. His name that valiant duke hath left with thee; 'His dukedom and his chair with me is left. Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely eagle's bird, Show thy descent by gazing 'gainst the sun: For chair and dukedom, throne and kingdom say; Either that is thine, or else thou wert not his. March. Enter Warwick and Montague, with forces. War. How now, fair lords? What fare? what news abroad? 'Rich. Great lord of Warwick, if we should re count Our baleful news, and, at each word's deliverance, Edw. O Warwick! Warwick! that Plantagenet, Which held thee dearly, as his soul's redemption, Is by the stern lord Clifford done to death. War. Ten days ago I drown'd these news in tears: And now, to add more measure to your woes, Muster'd my soldiers, gather'd flocks of friends, March'd towards saint Alban's to intercept the queen, Bearing the king in my behalf along: That she was coming with a full intent To dash our late decree in parliament, Touching king Henry's oath, and your succession. Short tale to make,—we at saint Alban's met, Our battles join'd, and both sides fiercely fought: Or more than common fear of Clifford's rigour, Who thunders to his captives-blood and death, Fell gently down, as if they struck their friends. Edw. Where is the duke of Norfolk, gentle And when came George from Burgundy to Eng land? 'War. Some six miles off the duke is with the soldiers: And for your brother,—he was lately sent • With aid of soldiers to this needful war. Rich. 'Twas odds, belike, when valiant Warwick fled: Oft have I heard his praises in pursuit, But ne'er, till now, his scandal of retire. War. Nor now my scandal, Richard, dost thou hear: For thou shalt know, this strong right hand of mine Can pluck the diadem from faint Henry's head, And wring the awful scepter from his fist; 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. And therefore comes my brother Montague. And now to London all the crew are gone, With all the friends that thou, brave earl of March, And once again bestride our foaming steeds, Rich. Ay, now, methinks, I hear great Warwick speak: Ne'er may he live to see a sunshine day, 'That cries-Retire, if Warwick bid him stay. Edw. Lord Warwick, on thy shoulder will I lean; 'And when thou fail'st, (as God forbid the hour!) Must 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 sound the trumpets, and about our task. Rich. Then, Clifford, were thy heart as hard * as steel, (As thou hast shown it flinty by thy deeds,) * I come to pierce it,—or to give thee mine. * Edw. Then strike up, drums;-God, and saint George, for us! Enter a Messenger. War. How now? what news? Mes. The duke of Norfolk sends you word by me, D |