Warwick wounded.
&mast;K. Edw.
&mast;So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;
&mast;For Warwick was a bug, that fear'd us all3 note
.—
-- 520 --
&mast;Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
&mast;That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.
[Exit.
War.
Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe,
And tell me, who is victor, York, or Warwick?
Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,
&mast;My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows,
That I must yield my body to the earth,
And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
Whose arms4 note
gave shelter to the princely eagle,
Under whose shade the ramping lion slept5 note
;
Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree,
&mast;And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
&mast;These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil,
&mast;Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
&mast;To search the secret treasons of the world:
The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,
-- 521 --
Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres;
For who liv'd king, but I could dig his grave?
And who durst smile, when Warwick bent his brow?
Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
My parks6 note
, my walks, my manors that I had,
Even now forsake me; and, of all my lands,
Is nothing left me, but my body's length7 note
!
Why, what is pomp8 note, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
Enter Oxford and Somerset.
&mast;Som.
&mast;Ah, Warwick, Warwick9 note
! wert thou as we are,
-- 522 --
&mast;We might recover all our loss again!
&mlquo;The queen from France hath brought a puissant power;
&mlquo;Even now we heard the news: Ah, could'st thou fly!
&mlquo;War.
&mlquo;Why, then I would not fly.—Ah, Montague,
&mast;If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,
&mast;And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!
&mast;Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst,
&mast;Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood,
&mast;That glues my lips, and will not let me speak.
&mast;Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
&mlquo;Som.
&mlquo;Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breath'd his last;
&mlquo;And to the latest gasp, cried out for Warwick,
&mlquo;And said—Commend me to my valiant brother.
&mlquo;And more he would have said; and more he spoke,
&mlquo;Which sounded like a cannon in a vault1 note
,
-- 523 --
&mlquo;That might not be distinguish'd: but, at last,
&mlquo;I well might hear deliver'd with a groan,—
&mlquo;O, farewell Warwick!
War.
Sweet rest to his soul!—
Fly, lords, and save yourselves: for Warwick bids
You all farewell, to meet again in heaven2 note
.
[Dies.
Oxf.
Away, away3 note
, to meet the queen's great power!
[Exeunt, bearing off Warwick's Body.
-- 524 --
James Boswell [1821], The plays and poems of William Shakspeare, with the corrections and illustrations of various commentators: comprehending A Life of the Poet, and an enlarged history of the stage, by the late Edmond Malone. With a new glossarial index (J. Deighton and Sons, Cambridge) [word count] [S10201].
