War.
Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well;
The common people swarm by numbers to us. Enter Clarence and Somerset.
But, see, where Somerset and Clarence come;—
Speak suddenly, my lords, are we all friends?

Cla.
Fear not that, my lord.

War.
Then, gentle Clarence, welcome unto Warwick—
And welcome, Somerset:—I hold it cowardice† ^note,

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, Clarence, my daughter shall be thine. [Giving him his hand.
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 surprize and take him at our pleasure?
&blquo;Our scouts have found the adventure very easy:
&blquo;That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede,
&blquo;By slight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents,
&blquo;And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds;
&blquo;So we, well cover'd with the night's black mantle,
&blquo;At unawares may beat down Edward's guard,
&blquo;And seize himself; I say not—slaughter him,
&blquo;For I intend but only to surprize him.—
You that will follow me in 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, marching.

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