foes may set upon our backs.
Stand we in good array; for they no doubt
Will issue out again and bid us battle:
If not, the city being but of small defence,
We'll quickly rouse the traitors in the same.
O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.
Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!
Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason
Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.
The harder match'd, the greater victory:
My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.
Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!
Two of thy name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Have sold their lives unto the house of York;
And thou shalt be the third if this sword hold.
And lo, where George of Clarence sweeps along,
Of force enough to bid his brother battle;
With whom an upright zeal to right prevails
More than the nature of a brother's love!
Come, Clarence, come; thou wilt, if Warwick call.
Father of Warwick, know you what this means?
Look here, I throw my infamy at thee
I will not ruinate my father's house,
Who gave his blood to lime the stones together,
And set up Lancaster. Why, trow'st thou, Warwick,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, unnatural,
To bend the fatal instruments of war
Against his brother and his lawful king?
Perhaps thou wilt object my holy oath:
To keep that oath were more impiety
Than Jephthah's, when he sacrificed his daughter.
I am so sorry for my trespass made
That, to deserve well at my brother's hands,
I here proclaim myself thy mortal foe,
With resolution, wheresoe'er I meet thee--
As I will meet thee, if thou stir abroad--
To plague thee for thy foul misleading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defy thee,
And to my brother turn my blushing cheeks.
Pardon me, Edward, I will make amends:
And, Richard, do not frown upon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more unconstant.
Now welcome more, and ten times more beloved,
Than if thou never hadst deserved our hate.
Welcome, good Clarence; this is brotherlike.
O passing traitor, perjured and unjust!
What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?
Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence!
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou darest.
Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way.
Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory!
So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;
For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.