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And live we how we can, yet die we must.

Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET

SOMERSET.

Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are,

We might recover all our loss again.

The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power;

Even now we heard the news. Ah, couldst thou fly!

WARWICK.

Why then, I would not fly. Ah, Montague,

If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,

And with thy lips keep in my soul a while!

Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst,

Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood

That glues my lips and will not let me speak.

Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

SOMERSET.

Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breath'd his last;

And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,

And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.'

And more he would have said; and more he spoke,

Which sounded like a clamour in a vault,

That mought not be distinguish'd; but at last,

I well might hear, delivered with a groan,

'O farewell, Warwick!'

WARWICK.

Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves:

For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in heaven.

[Dies]

OXFORD.

Away, away, to meet the Queen's great power!

[Here they bear away his body]

SCENE III. Another part of the field

Flourish. Enter KING in triumph; with GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest

KING EDWARD.

Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,

And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.

But in the midst of this bright-shining day

I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud

That will encounter with our glorious sun

Ere he attain his easeful western bed-

I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen

Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast

And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

CLARENCE.

A little gale will soon disperse that cloud

And blow it to the source from whence it came;

Thy very beams will dry those vapours up,

For every cloud engenders not a storm.

GLOUCESTER.

The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,

And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her.

If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd

Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

KING EDWARD.

are advertis'd by our loving friends

That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury;

We, having now the best at Barnet field,

Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;

And as we march our strength will be augmented

In every county as we go along.

Strike up the drum; cry 'Courage!' and away. Exeunt

SCENE IV. Plains wear Tewksbury

Flourish. March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and SOLDIERS

QUEEN MARGARET.

Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their loss,

But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.

What though the mast be now blown overboard,

The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,

And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood;

Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he

Should leave the helm and, like a fearful lad,

With tearful eyes add water to the sea

And give more strength to that which hath too much;

Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,

Which industry and courage might have sav'd?

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

Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?

And Montague 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 shrouds and tacklings?

And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I

For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?

We will not from the helm to sit and weep,

But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,

From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck,

As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.

And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?

What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?

And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?

All these the enemies to our poor bark.

Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while!

Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink.

Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,

Or else you famish- that's a threefold death.

This speak I, lords, to let you understand,