SCENE II.
Warwickshire.
Enter Warwick and Oxford, with French soldiers.
War.
Trust me, my lord, all hitherto goes well;
The common people by numbers swarm to us.
Enter Clarence, and Somerset.
But, see, where Somerset and Clarence comes;—
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, Clarence; my daughter shall be thine.
And now what rests, but, in 5 note
night's coverture,
Thy brother being carelesly encamp'd,
6 note
His soldiers lurking in the towns about,
And but attended by a simple guard,
-- 521 --
We may surprize and take him at our pleasure?
Our scouts have found the adventure 7 note
very easy:
That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede,
With slight and manhood stole to Rhesus' tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal steeds;
8 noteSo 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 surprize 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.
Samuel Johnson [1778], The plays of William Shakspeare. In ten volumes. With the corrections and illustrations of various commentators; to which are added notes by Samuel Johnson and George Steevens. The second edition, Revised and Augmented (Printed for C. Bathurst [and] W. Strahan [etc.], London) [word count] [S10901].
