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And when the Morning Sun fhall raise his Car
Above the Border of this Horizon,

We'll forward towards Warwick, and his Mates;
For well I wot, that Henry is no Soldier.
Ah froward Clarence, how evil it befeems thee,
To flatter Henry, and forfake thy Brother?
Yet as we may, w'll meet both thee and Warwick.
Come on brave Soldiers; doubt not of the Day,
And that once gotten, doubt not of large pay.

[Exeunt.

Enter King Henry, Warwick, Montague, Clarence, Ox ford, and Somerfet.

War. What Counsel, Lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hafty Germans, and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pass'd in fafety through the narrow Seas,
And with his Troops doth march amain to London,
And many giddy People flock to him.

K. Henry. Let's levy Men, and beat him back again.
Clar. A little Fire is quickly trodden out,
Which being fuffer'd, Rivers cannot quench.
War. In Warwickshire I have true-hearted Friends,
Not mutinous in Peace, yet bold in War,
Those will I mufter up; and thou, Son Clarence,
Shalt ftir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent,
The Knights and Gentlemen to come with thee.
Thou Brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire fhalt find
Men well inclin'd to hear what thou command'.
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloy'd,
In Oxfordshire fhalt mufter up thy Friends.
My Soveraign, with the loving Citizens,
Like to his Ifland, girt with th' Ocean,
Or modeft Dian, circled with her Nymphs,
Shall reft in London, 'till we come to him:
Fair Lords take leave, and stand not to reply.
Farewel my Soveraign,

K. Henry. Farewel my Hefter, and my Troy's true hope.

Clar!

Clar. In fign of truth, I kifs your Highness Hand.
K. Henry. Well-minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
Mont. Comfort, my Lord, and fo I take my leave.
Oxf. And thus I feal my Truth, and bid adieu.
K. Henry. Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewel
War. Farewel, fweet Lords, let's meet at Coventry.

[Exeunt.
K. Henry. Here at the Palace will I reft a while.
Coufin of Exeter, what thinks your Lordship?
Methinks, the Power that Edward hath in Field,
Should not be able to encounter mine.

Exe. The doubt is, that he will feduce the reft.

K. Henry. That's not my fear, my meed hath got me fame:

I have not stopt mine Ears to their demands,
Nor pofted off their Suits with flow delays,
My pity hath been Balm to heal their Wounds,
My mildness hath allay'd their fwelling Griefs,
My mercy dry'd their water flowing Tears.
I have not been defirous of their Wealth,
Nor much oppreft them with great Subfidies,
Nor forward of Revenge, though they much err'd.
Then why fhould they love Edward more than me?
Na, Exeter, thefe Graces challenge Grace:
And when the Lion fawns upon the Lamb,

The Lamb will never ceafe to follow him.

[Shout within. A Lancaster! a Lancaster! Exe. Hark, hark, my Lord, what Shouts are these?

Enter King Edward and his Soldiersi

K. Edw. Seize on the fhame-fac'd Henry, bear him hence,

And once again proclaim us King of England.
You are the Fount, that make small Brooks to flow,
Now ftops thy Spring, my Sea fhall fuck them dry.
And fwell fo much the higher, by their ebbb.

S4

Hence

Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speak.

[Exit with King Henry.
And Lords, towards Coventry bend we our Course,
Where peremptory Warwick now remains:
The Sun fhines hot, and if we ufe delay,
Cold biting Winter mars our hop'd-for Hay.

Glo. Away betimes before his Forces join,
And take the great grown Traitor unawares:
Brave Warriors, march amain towards Coventry.

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Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two Meffengers and others upon the Walls.

War. WH

THere is the Poft that came from valiant Oxford? How far hence is thy Lord, mine honeft Fellow I Mef. By this at Dunfmore, marching hitherward.. War. How far off is our Brother Montague? Where is the Poft that came from Montague?

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2 Mef. By this at Daintry, with a puiffant Troop.

Enter Somervile.

War. Say Somervile, what fays my loving Son? And by thy guefs, how nigh is Clarence now? Somerv. At Southam I did leave him with his Forces And do expect him here fome two hours hence. War. Then Clarence is at hand, I hear his Drum. Somerv. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes: The Drum your Honour hears, marcheth from Warwick. War. Who fhould that be? Belike, unlook'd for Friends.

Somerv. They are at hand, and you fhall quickly know..

March. Flourish. Enter King Edward, Gloucester, and Soldiers

K. Edw. Go, Trumpet, to the Walls, and found a Parle Glo. See how the furly Warwick mans the Wall. War. Oh unbid Spight, is fportful Edward come? Where flept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd, That we could hear no news of his repair?

K. Edm. Now Warwick, wilt thou ope the City Gares). Speak gentle Words, and humbly bend thy Knee, Call Edward King, and at his Hands beg Mercy,

And he fhall pardon thee thefe Outrages?

War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy Forces hence, Confefs who fet thee up, and pluck'd thee down, Call Warwick Patron, and be penitent,

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And thou shalt ftill remain the Duke of York.

Glo. I thought at least he would have faid the King, Or did he make the Jeft against his will?

War. Is not a Dukedom, Sir, a goodly Gift?

Glo. Ay, by my Faith, for a poor Earl to giver I I'll do thee fervice for fo good a Gift?

War. 'Twas I that gave the Kingdom to thy Brother.
K. Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's Gift.
Glo. Thou art no Atlas for fo great a weight:
And Weakling, Warwick takes his Gift again,
And Henry is my King, Warwick his Subject,
K. Edw. But Warwick's King is Edward's Prifoner;
And gallant Warwick, do but answer this,
What is the Body, when the Head is off?

Glo. Alas, that Warwick had no more fore-caft,
But whiles he thought to fteal the fingle Ten,
The King was flily finger'd from the Deck:
You left poor Henry at the Bishop's Palace,
And ten to one you'll meet him in the Tower,
K. Edw. "Tis even fo, yet you are Warwick still.
Glo. Come Warwick,

Take the time, kneel down, kneel down:
Nay when; ftrike now, or else the Iron cools.
War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
'And with the other fling it at thy Face,
Than bear fo low a Sail, to strike to thee.
K. Edw. Sail how thou canft,

Have Wind and Tide thy Friend,

This Hand, faft wound about thy Coal black Hair,
Shall, whiles thy Head is warm, and new cut off,
Write in the Duft this Sentence with thy Blood,
Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.

Enter Oxford, with Drum and Colours.

War. O chearful Colours, fee where Oxford comes.
Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster. D

Glo. The Gates are open, let us enter too.
K Edw. So other Foes may fet upon our Backs
Rand we in good Array; for they no doubt

Wil

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