War.
O chearful colours! see, where Oxford comes!

Oxf.
Oxford! Oxford! for Lancaster!

Glo.
The gates are open, let us enter too.

K. Edw.
So other 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 of small defence,
We'll quickly rouze the traitors in the same.

War.
O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help. Enter Montague, with drum and colours.

Mont.
Montague! Montague! for Lancaster.

Glo.
Thou, and thy brother both, shall buy this treason
Ev'n with the dearest blood your bodies bear.

K. Edw.
The harder match'd, the greater victory;
My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.

Enter Somerset, with drum and colours.

Som.
Somerset! Somerset! for Lancaster.

Glo.
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. Enter Clarence, with drum and colours.

War.
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.— [A Parley is sounded; Richard and Clarence whisper together; and then Clarence takes his red rose out of his hat, and throws it at Warwick.]

Clar.
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 Jepthah's, when he sacrific'd 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 mis-leading me.
And so, proud-hearted Warwick, I defie 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.

K. Edw.
Now welcome more, and ten times more belov'd,
Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.

Glo.
Welcome, good Clarence, this is brother-like.

War.
O passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust!

K. Edw.
What, Warwick, wilt thou leave the town and fight?
Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?

War.
Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee battel, Edward, if thou dar'st.

K. Edw.
Yes, Warwick, Edward dares, and leads the way:
Lords, to the field; St. George and victory! [Exeunt. March. Warwick and his Company follow.

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