Shakespeare's First Folio Part 406

Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.

Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with Richard, Clarence, and the rest.

King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course, And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie: But in the midst of this bright-shining Day, I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud, That will encounter with our glorious Sunne, Ere he attaine his easefull Westerne Bed: I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast, And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs

Clar. A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud, And blow it to the Source from whence it came, Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp, For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme

Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong, And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her: If she haue time to breathe, be well a.s.sur'd Her faction will be full as strong as ours

King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends, That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury.

We hauing now the best at Barnet field, Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way, And as we march, our strength will be augmented: In euery Countie as we goe along, Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.

Exeunt.

Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and Souldiers.

Qu. Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse, But chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes.

What though the Mast be now blowne ouer-boord, The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost, And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood?

Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad, With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea, And giue more strength to that which hath too much, Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock, Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd?

Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this.

Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that?

And Mountague our Top-Mast: what of him?

Our slaught'red 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 vnskilfull, why not Ned and I, For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge?

We will not from the Helme, to sit and weepe, But keepe our Course (though the rough Winde say no) From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack.

As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire.

And what is Edward, but a ruthlesse Sea?

What Clarence, but a Quick-sand of Deceit?

And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke?

All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke.

Say you can swim, alas 'tis but a while: Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke, Bestride the Rock, the Tyde will wash you off, Or else you famish, that's a three-fold Death.

This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderstand, If case some one of you would flye from vs, That there's no hop'd-for Mercy with the Brothers, More then with ruthlesse Waues, with Sands and Rocks.

Why courage then, what cannot be auoided, 'Twere childish weakenesse to lament, or feare

Prince. Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit, Should, if a Coward heard her speake these words, Infuse his Breast with Magnanimitie, And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes.

I speake not this, as doubting any here: For did I but suspect a fearefull man, He should haue leaue to goe away betimes, Least in our need he might infect another, And make him of like spirit to himselfe.

If any such be here, as G.o.d forbid, Let him depart, before we neede his helpe

Oxf. Women and Children of so high a courage, And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame.

Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue, To beare his Image, and renew his Glories

Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope, Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day, If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at

Qu. Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes

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

Enter a Messenger.

Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand, Readie to fight: therefore be resolute

Oxf. I thought no lesse: it is his Policie, To haste thus fast, to finde vs vnprouided

Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse

Qu. This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse

Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.

Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and Souldiers.

Edw. Braue followers, yonder stands the thornie Wood, Which by the Heauens a.s.sistance, and your strength, Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp yet ere Night.

I need not adde more fuell to your fire, For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out: Giue signall to the fight, and to it Lords

Qu. Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say, My teares gaine-say: for euery word I speake, Ye see I drinke the water of my eye.

Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State vsurp'd, His Realme a slaughter-house, his Subiects slaine, His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent: And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle.

You fight in Iustice: then in G.o.ds Name, Lords, Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.

Alarum, Retreat, Excursions. Exeunt.

Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset.

Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles.

Away with Oxford, to Hames Castle straight: For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head.

Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake

Oxf. For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words

Som. Nor I, but stoupe with patience to my fortune.

Exeunt.

Qu. So part we sadly in this troublous World, To meet with Ioy in sweet Ierusalem

Edw. Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward, Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life?

Rich. It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes.

Enter the Prince.

Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake.

What? can so young a Thorne begin to p.r.i.c.k?

Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make, For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects, And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?

Prince. Speake like a Subiect, prowd ambitious Yorke.

Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth, Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou, Whil'st I propose the selfe-same words to thee, Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me answer to