A Plain in Warwickshire. |
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Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French and other Forces. |
War. Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well; |
The common people by numbers swarm to us. |
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Enter CLARENCE and SOMERSET. |
But see where Somerset and Clarence come! |
Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends? |
Clar. Fear not that, my lord. |
War. Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick; |
And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardice, |
To rest mistrustful where a noble heart |
Hath pawn'd an open hand in sign of love; |
Else might I think that Clarence, Edward's brother, |
Were but a feigned friend to our proceedings: |
But welcome, sweet Clarence; my daughter shall be thine. |
And now what rests, but in night's coverture, |
Thy brother being carelessly encamp'd, |
His soldiers lurking in the towns about, |
And but attended by a simple guard, |
We may surprise and take him at our pleasure? |
Our scouts have found the adventure very easy: |
That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede, |
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents, |
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds; |
So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle, |
At unawares may beat down Edward's guard, |
And seize himself; I say not, slaughter him, |
For I intend but only to surprise him. |
You, that will follow me to this attempt, |
Applaud the name of Henry with your leader. [They all cry 'Henry!' |
Why, then, let's on our way in silent sort. |
For Warwick and his friends, God and Saint George! [Exeunt. |
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