732Might in the ground be closed vp in rest:

733For neuer henceforth shall I ioy againe:

734Neuer, oh neuer shall I see more ioy.

735Rich. I cannot weepe: for all my bodies moysture

736Scarse serues to quench my Furnace-burning hart:

737Nor can my tongue vnloade my hearts great burthen,

738For selfe-same winde that I should speake withall,

739Is kindling coales that fires all my brest,

740And burnes me vp with flames, that tears would quench.

741To weepe, is to make lesse the depth of greefe:

742Teares then for Babes; Blowes, and Reuenge for mee.

743Richard, I beare thy name, Ile venge thy death,

744Or dye renowned by attempting it.

745Ed. His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee:

746His Dukedome, and his Chaire with me is left.

747Rich. Nay, if thou be that Princely Eagles Bird,

748Shew thy descent by gazing 'gainst the Sunne:

749For Chaire and Dukedome, Throne and Kingdome say,

750Either that is thine, or else thou wer't not his.

753 Warwick. How now faire Lords? What faire? What

754 newes abroad?

755 Rich. Great Lord of Warwicke, if we should tecompt

756Our balefull newes, and at each words deliuerance

757Stab Poniards in our flesh, till all were told,

758The words would adde more anguish then the wounds.

759O valiant Lord, the Duke of Yorke is slaine.

760Edw. O Warwicke, Warwicke, that Plantagenet

761Which held thee deerely, as his Soules Redemption,

762Is by the sterne Lord Clifford done to death.

763 War. Ten dayes ago, I drown'd these newes in teares.

764And now to adde more measure to your woes,

765I come to tell you things sith then befalne.

766After the bloody Fray at Wakefield fought,

767Where your braue Father breath'd his latest gaspe,

768Tydings, as swiftly as the Postes could runne,

769Were brought me of your Losse, and his Depart.

770I then in London, keeper of the King,

771Muster'd my Soldiers, gathered flockes of Friends,

772Marcht toward S. Albons, to intercept the Queene,

773Bearing the King in my behalfe along:

774For by my Scouts, I was aduertised

775That she was comming with a full intent

776To dash our late Decree in Parliament,

777Touching King Henries Oath, and your Succession:

778Short Tale to make, we at S. Albons met,

779Our Battailes ioyn'd, and both sides fiercely fought:

780But whether 'twas the coldnesse of the King,

781Who look'd full gently on his warlike Queene,

782That robb'd my Soldiers of their heated Spleene.

783Or whether 'twas report of her successe,

784Or more then common feare of Cliffords Rigour,

785Who thunders to his Captiues, Blood and Death,

786I cannot iudge: but to conclude with truth,

787Their Weapons like to Lightning, came and went:

788Our Souldiers like the Night-Owles lazie flight,

789Or like a lazie Thresher with a Flaile,

790Fell gently downe, as if they strucke their Friends.

791I cheer'd them vp with iustice of our Cause,

792With promise of high pay, and great Rewards:

793But all in vaine, they had no heart to fight,

794And we (in them) no hope to win the day,

795So that we fled: the King vnto the Queene,

796Lord George, your Brother, Norfolke, and my Selfe,

797In haste, post haste, are come to ioyne with you:

798For in the Marches heere we heard you were,

799Making another Head, to fight againe.

800 Ed. Where is the Duke of Norfolke, gentle Warwick?

801And when came George from Burgundy to England?

802 War. Some six miles off the Duke is with the Soldiers,

803And for your Brother he was lately sent

804From your kinde Aunt Dutchesse of Burgundie,

805With ayde of Souldiers to this needfull Warre.

806 Rich. 'Twas oddes belike, when valiant Warwick fled;

807Oft haue I heard his praises in Pursuite,

808But ne're till now, his Scandall of Retire.

809 War. Nor now my Scandall Richard, dost thou heare:

810For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine,

811Can plucke the Diadem from faint Henries head,

812And wring the awefull Scepter from his Fist,

813Were he as famous, and as bold in Warre,

814As he is fam'd for Mildnesse, Peace, and Prayer.

815Rich. I know it well Lord Warwick, blame me not,

816'Tis loue I beare thy glories make me speake:

817But in this troublous time, what's to be done?

818Shall we go throw away our Coates of Steele,

819And wrap our bodies in blacke mourning Gownes,

820Numb'ring our Aue-Maries with our Beads?

821Or shall we on the Helmets of our Foes

822Tell our Deuotion with reuengefull Armes?

823If for the last, say I, and to it Lords.

824 War. Why therefore Warwick came to seek you out,

825And therefore comes my Brother Mountague:

826Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene,

827With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland,

828And of their Feather, many moe proud Birds,

829Haue wrought the easie-melting King, like Wax.

830He swore consent to your Succession,

831His Oath enrolled in the Parliament.

832And now to London all the crew are gone,

833To frustrate both his Oath, and what beside

834May make against the house of Lancaster.

835Their power (I thinke) is thirty thousand strong:

836Now, if the helpe of Norfolke, and my selfe,

837With all the Friends that thou braue Earle of March,

838Among'st the louing Welshmen can'st procure,

839Will but amount to fiue and twenty thousand,

840Why Via, to London will we march,

841And once againe, bestride our foaming Steeds,

842And once againe cry Charge vpon our Foes,

843But neuer once againe turne backe and flye.

844 Rich. I, now me thinks I heare great Warwick speak;

845Ne're may he liue to see a Sun-shine day,

846That cries Retire, if Warwicke bid him stay.

847Ed. Lord Warwicke, on thy shoulder will I leane,

848And when thou failst (as God forbid the houre)

849Must Edward fall, which perill heauen forefend.

850 War. No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke:

851The next degree, is Englands Royall Throne:

852For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd

853In euery Burrough as we passe along,

854And he that throwes not vp his cap for ioy,

855Shall for the Fault make forfeit of his head.

856King Edward, valiant Richard Mountague:

857Stay we no longer, dreaming of Renowne,

858But sound the Trumpets, and about our Taske.

859 Rich. Then Clifford, were thy heart as hard as Steele,

860As thou hast shewne it flintie by thy deeds,

861I come to pierce it, or to giue thee mine.

862Ed. Then strike vp Drums, God and S. George for vs.

p War.