ACT V. SCENE I. Coventry  Enter WARWICK, the MAYOR OF COVENTRY, two MESSENGERS, and others upon the walls    WARWICK. Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford?     How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?   FIRST MESSENGER. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.   WARWICK. How far off is our brother Montague?     Where is the post that came from Montague?   SECOND MESSENGER. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop.                     Enter SIR JOHN SOMERVILLE    WARWICK. Say, Somerville, what says my loving son?     And by thy guess how nigh is Clarence now?   SOMERVILLE. At Southam I did leave him with his forces,     And do expect him here some two hours hence.                                                     [Drum heard]   WARWICK. Then Clarence is at hand; I hear his drum.   SOMERVILLE. It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies.     The drum your Honour hears marcheth from Warwick.   WARWICK. Who should that be? Belike unlook'd for friends.   SOMERVILLE. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.          March. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER,                          and soldiers    KING EDWARD. Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle.   GLOUCESTER. See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.   WARWICK. O unbid spite! Is sportful Edward come?     Where slept our scouts or how are they seduc'd     That we could hear no news of his repair?   KING EDWARD. Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates,     Speak gentle words, and humbly bend thy knee,     Call Edward King, and at his hands beg mercy?     And he shall pardon thee these outrages.   WARWICK. Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,     Confess who set thee up and pluck'd thee down,     Call Warwick patron, and be penitent?     And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.   GLOUCESTER. I thought, at least, he would have said the King;     Or did he make the jest against his will?   WARWICK. Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?   GLOUCESTER. Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give.     I'll do thee service for so good a gift.   WARWICK. 'Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother.   KING EDWARD. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwick's gift.   WARWICK. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight;     And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again;     And Henry is my King, Warwick his subject.   KING EDWARD. But Warwick's king is Edward's prisoner.     And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this:     What is the body when the head is off?   GLOUCESTER. Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast,     But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten,     The king was slily finger'd from the deck!     You left poor Henry at the Bishop's palace,     And ten to one you'll meet him in the Tower.   KING EDWARD. 'Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still.   GLOUCESTER. Come, Warwick, take the time; kneel down, kneel down.     Nay, when? Strike now, or else the iron cools.   WARWICK. I had rather chop this hand off at a blow,     And with the other fling it at thy face,     Than bear so low a sail to strike to thee.   KING EDWARD. Sail how thou canst, have wind and tide thy friend,     This hand, fast wound about thy coal-black hair,     Shall, whiles thy head is warm and new cut off,     Write in the dust this sentence with thy blood:     'Wind-changing Warwick now can change no more.'                 Enter OXFORD, with drum and colours    WARWICK. O cheerful colours! See where Oxford comes.   OXFORD. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster!                               [He and his forces enter the city]   GLOUCESTER. The gates are open, let us enter too.   KING EDWARD. 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 but of small defence,     We'll quietly rouse the traitors in the same.   WARWICK. O, welcome, Oxford! for we want thy help.               Enter MONTAGUE, with drum and colours    MONTAGUE. Montague, Montague, for Lancaster!                               [He and his forces enter the city]   GLOUCESTER. Thou and thy brother both shall buy this treason     Even with the dearest blood your bodies bear.   KING EDWARD. The harder match'd, the greater victory.     My mind presageth happy gain and conquest.               Enter SOMERSET, with drum and colours    SOMERSET. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster!                               [He and his forces enter the city]   GLOUCESTER. 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    WARWICK. 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.   CLARENCE. Clarence, Clarence, for Lancaster!   KING EDWARD. Et tu Brute- wilt thou stab Caesar too?     A parley, sirrah, to George of Clarence.                   [Sound a parley. RICHARD and CLARENCE whisper]   WARWICK. Come, Clarence, come. Thou wilt if Warwick call.   CLARENCE. [Taking the red rose from his hat and throwing       it at WARWICK]     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, trowest 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 Jephtha 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 whereso'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.   KING EDWARD. Now welcome more, and ten times more belov'd,     Than if thou never hadst deserv'd our hate.   GLOUCESTER. Welcome, good Clarence; this is brother-like.   WARWICK. O passing traitor, perjur'd and unjust!   KING EDWARD. What, Warwick, wilt thou leave die town and fight?     Or shall we beat the stones about thine ears?   WARWICK. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence!     I will away towards Barnet presently     And bid thee battle, Edward, if thou dar'st.   KING EDWARD. Yes, Warwick, Edward dares and leads the way.     Lords, to the field; Saint George and victory!                                                  Exeunt YORKISTS                          [March. WARWICK and his company follow]     SCENE II. A field of battle near Barnet  Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD, bringing forth WARWICK, wounded    KING EDWARD. So, lie thou there. Die thou, and die our fear;     For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.     Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,     That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.            Exit   WARWICK. 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,     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 arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,     Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,     Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree     And kept low shrubs from winter's pow'rful wind.     These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black veil,     Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun     To search the secret treasons of the world;     The wrinkles in my brows, now fill'd with blood,     Were lik'ned 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 parks, my walks, my manors, that I had,     Even now forsake me; and of all my lands     Is nothing left me but my body's length.     what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?     And live we how we can, yet die we must.                    Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET    SOMERSET. Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are,     We might recover all our loss again.     The Queen from France hath brought a puissant power;     Even now we heard the news. Ah, couldst thou fly!   WARWICK. Why then, I would not fly. Ah, Montague,     If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand,     And with thy lips keep in my soul a while!     Thou lov'st me not; for, brother, if thou didst,     Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood     That glues my lips and will not let me speak.     Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.   SOMERSET. Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breath'd his last;     And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,     And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.'     And more he would have said; and more he spoke,     Which sounded like a clamour in a vault,     That mought not be distinguish'd; but at last,     I well might hear, delivered with a groan,     'O farewell, Warwick!'   WARWICK. Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves:     For Warwick bids you all farewell, to meet in heaven.                                                           [Dies]   OXFORD. Away, away, to meet the Queen's great power!                                   [Here they bear away his body]     SCENE III. Another part of the field  Flourish. Enter KING in triumph; with GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and the rest    KING EDWARD. Thus far our fortune keeps an upward course,     And we are grac'd with wreaths of victory.     But in the midst of this bright-shining day     I spy a black, suspicious, threat'ning cloud     That will encounter with our glorious sun     Ere he attain his easeful western bed-     I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen     Hath rais'd in Gallia have arriv'd our coast     And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.   CLARENCE. A little gale will soon disperse that cloud     And blow it to the source from whence it came;     Thy very beams will dry those vapours up,     For every cloud engenders not a storm.   GLOUCESTER. The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,     And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her.     If she have time to breathe, be well assur'd     Her faction will be full as strong as ours.   KING EDWARD. are advertis'd by our loving friends     That they do hold their course toward Tewksbury;     We, having now the best at Barnet field,     Will thither straight, for willingness rids way;     And as we march our strength will be augmented     In every county as we go along.     Strike up the drum; cry 'Courage!' and away.          Exeunt     SCENE IV. Plains wear Tewksbury  Flourish. March. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, SOMERSET, OXFORD, and SOLDIERS    QUEEN MARGARET. Great lords, wise men ne'er sit and wail their       loss,     But cheerly seek how to redress their harms.     What though the mast be now blown overboard,     The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,     And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood;     Yet lives our pilot still. Is't meet that he     Should leave the helm and, like a fearful lad,     With tearful eyes add water to the sea     And give more strength to that which hath too much;     Whiles, in his moan, the ship splits on the rock,     Which industry and courage might have sav'd?     Ah, what a shame! ah, what a fault were this!     Say Warwick was our anchor; what of that?     And Montague our top-mast; what of him?     Our slaught'red friends the tackles; what of these?     Why, is not Oxford here another anchor?     And Somerset another goodly mast?     The friends of France our shrouds and tacklings?     And, though unskilful, why not Ned and I     For once allow'd the skilful pilot's charge?     We will not from the helm to sit and weep,     But keep our course, though the rough wind say no,     From shelves and rocks that threaten us with wreck,     As good to chide the waves as speak them fair.     And what is Edward but a ruthless sea?     What Clarence but a quicksand of deceit?     And Richard but a ragged fatal rock?     All these the enemies to our poor bark.     Say you can swim; alas, 'tis but a while!     Tread on the sand; why, there you quickly sink.     Bestride the rock; the tide will wash you off,     Or else you famish- that's a threefold death.     This speak I, lords, to let you understand,     If case some one of you would fly from us,     That there's no hop'd-for mercy with the brothers     More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks.     Why, courage then! What cannot be avoided     'Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.   PRINCE OF WALES. Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit     Should, if a coward hear her speak these words,     Infuse his breast with magnanimity     And make him naked foil a man-at-arms.     I speak not this as doubting any here;     For did I but suspect a fearful man,     He should have leave to go away betimes,     Lest in our need he might infect another     And make him of the like spirit to himself.     If any such be here- as God forbid!-     Let him depart before we need his help.   OXFORD. Women and children of so high a courage,     And warriors faint! Why, 'twere perpetual shame.     O brave young Prince! thy famous grandfather     Doth live again in thee. Long mayst thou Eve     To bear his image and renew his glories!   SOMERSET. And he that will not fight for such a hope,     Go home to bed and, like the owl by day,     If he arise, be mock'd and wond'red at.   QUEEN MARGARET. Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.   PRINCE OF WALES. And take his thanks that yet hath nothing else.                          Enter a MESSENGER    MESSENGER. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand     Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.   OXFORD. I thought no less. It is his policy     To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.   SOMERSET. But he's deceiv'd; we are in readiness.   QUEEN MARGARET. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.   OXFORD. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.        Flourish and march. Enter, at a distance, KING EDWARD,                GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and soldiers    KING EDWARD. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood     Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength,     Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.     I need not add more fuel to your fire,     For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out.     Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.   QUEEN MARGARET. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should say     My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,     Ye see, I drink the water of my eye.     Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,     Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,     His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,     His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent;     And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.     You fight in justice. Then, in God's name, lords,     Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.                              Alarum, retreat, excursions. Exeunt     SCENE V. Another part of the field  Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and forces, With QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, prisoners    KING EDWARD. Now here a period of tumultuous broils.     Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight;     For Somerset, off with his guilty head.     Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.   OXFORD. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.   SOMERSET. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.                              Exeunt OXFORD and SOMERSET, guarded   QUEEN MARGARET. So part we sadly in this troublous world,     To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.   KING EDWARD. Is proclamation made that who finds Edward     Shall have a high reward, and he his life?   GLOUCESTER. It is; and lo where youthful Edward comes.                  Enter soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD    KING EDWARD. Bring forth the gallant; let us hear him speak.     What, can so young a man begin to prick?     Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make     For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,     And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?   PRINCE OF WALES. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York.     Suppose that I am now my father's mouth;     Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou,     Whilst I propose the self-same words to the     Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.   QUEEN MARGARET. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd!   GLOUCESTER. That you might still have worn the petticoat     And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.   PRINCE OF WALES. Let Aesop fable in a winter's night;     His currish riddle sorts not with this place.   GLOUCESTER. By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word.   QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.   GLOUCESTER. For God's sake, take away this captive scold.   PRINCE OF WALES. Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.   KING EDWARD. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.   CLARENCE. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.   PRINCE OF WALES. I know my duty; you are all undutiful.     Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,     And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all     I am your better, traitors as ye are;     And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.   KING EDWARD. Take that, the likeness of this railer here.                                                      [Stabs him]   GLOUCESTER. Sprawl'st thou? Take that, to end thy agony.                                                      [Stabs him]   CLARENCE. And there's for twitting me with perjury.                                                      [Stabs him]   QUEEN MARGARET. O, kill me too!   GLOUCESTER. Marry, and shall.             [Offers to kill her]   KING EDWARD. Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done to much.   GLOUCESTER. Why should she live to fill the world with words?   KING EDWARD. What, doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery.   GLOUCESTER. Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother.     I'll hence to London on a serious matter;     Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.   CLARENCE. What? what?   GLOUCESTER. The Tower! the Tower!                         Exit   QUEEN MARGARET. O Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy mother, boy!     Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!     They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all,     Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,     If this foul deed were by to equal it.     He was a man: this, in respect, a child;     And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.     What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?     No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak-     And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.     Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!     How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!     You have no children, butchers, if you had,     The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse.     But if you ever chance to have a child,     Look in his youth to have him so cut off     As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!   KING EDWARD. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.   QUEEN MARGARET. Nay, never bear me hence; dispatch me here.     Here sheathe thy sword; I'll pardon thee my death.     What, wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do it thou.   CLARENCE. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.   QUEEN MARGARET. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do it.   CLARENCE. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?   QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself.     'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.     What! wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher,     Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?     Thou art not here. Murder is thy alms-deed;     Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.   KING EDWARD. Away, I say; I charge ye bear her hence.   QUEEN MARGARET. So come to you and yours as to this prince.                                           Exit, led out forcibly   KING EDWARD. Where's Richard gone?   CLARENCE. To London, all in post; and, as I guess,     To make a bloody supper in the Tower.   KING EDWARD. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.     Now march we hence. Discharge the common sort     With pay and thanks; and let's away to London     And see our gentle queen how well she fares.     By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.               Exeunt     SCENE VI. London. The Tower  Enter KING HENRY and GLOUCESTER with the LIEUTENANT, on the walls    GLOUCESTER. Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?   KING HENRY. Ay, my good lord- my lord, I should say rather.     'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better.     'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike,     And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.'   GLOUCESTER. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves; we must confer.                                                  Exit LIEUTENANT   KING HENRY. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;     So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,     And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.     What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?   GLOUCESTER. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind:     The thief doth fear each bush an officer.   KING HENRY. The bird that hath been limed in a bush     With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;     And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,     Have now the fatal object in my eye     Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.   GLOUCESTER. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete     That taught his son the office of a fowl!     And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.   KING HENRY. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;     Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;     The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,     Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea     Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.     Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!     My breast can better brook thy dagger's point     Than can my ears that tragic history.     But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my life?   GLOUCESTER. Think'st thou I am an executioner?   KING HENRY. A persecutor I am sure thou art.     If murdering innocents be executing,     Why, then thou are an executioner.   GLOUCESTER. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.   KING HENRY. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume,     Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.     And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand     Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,     And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,     And many an orphan's water-standing eye-     Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,     Orphans for their parents' timeless death-     Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.     The owl shriek'd at thy birth- an evil sign;     The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;     Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees;     The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,     And chatt'ring pies in dismal discords sung;     Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,     And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,     To wit, an indigest deformed lump,     Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.     Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,     To signify thou cam'st to bite the world;     And if the rest be true which I have heard,     Thou cam'st-   GLOUCESTER. I'll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech.                                                      [Stabs him]     For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.   KING HENRY. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.     O, God forgive my sins and pardon thee!               [Dies]   GLOUCESTER. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster     Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.     See how my sword weeps for the poor King's death.     O, may such purple tears be always shed     From those that wish the downfall of our house!     If any spark of life be yet remaining,     Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither-                                                [Stabs him again]     I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.     Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of;     For I have often heard my mother say     I came into the world with my legs forward.     Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste     And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?     The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried     'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!'     And so I was, which plainly signified     That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.     Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,     Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.     I have no brother, I am like no brother;     And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine,     Be resident in men like one another,     And not in me! I am myself alone.     Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light,     But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;     For I will buzz abroad such prophecies     That Edward shall be fearful of his life;     And then to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.     King Henry and the Prince his son are gone.     Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;     Counting myself but bad till I be best.     I'll throw thy body in another room,     And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.                                               Exit with the body     SCENE VII. London. The palace  Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, QUEEN ELIZABETH, CLARENCE, GLOUCESTER, HASTINGS, NURSE, with the Young PRINCE, and attendants    KING EDWARD. Once more we sit in England's royal throne,     Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies.     What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,     Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride!     Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd     For hardy and undoubted champions;     Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;     And two Northumberlands- two braver men     Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound;     With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,     That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion     And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.     Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat     And made our footstool of security.     Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.     Young Ned, for thee thine uncles and myself     Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night,     Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,     That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace;     And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.   GLOUCESTER. [Aside] I'll blast his harvest if your head were laid;     For yet I am not look'd on in the world.     This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave;     And heave it shall some weight or break my back.     Work thou the way- and that shall execute.   KING EDWARD. Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen;     And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.   CLARENCE. The duty that I owe unto your Majesty     I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.   KING EDWARD. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.   GLOUCESTER. And that I love the tree from whence thou sprang'st,     Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.     [Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master     And cried 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm.   KING EDWARD. Now am I seated as my soul delights,     Having my country's peace and brothers' loves.   CLARENCE. What will your Grace have done with Margaret?     Reignier, her father, to the King of France     Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,     And hither have they sent it for her ransom.   KING EDWARD. Away with her, and waft her hence to France.     And now what rests but that we spend the time     With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,     Such as befits the pleasure of the court?     Sound drums and trumpets. Farewell, sour annoy!     For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.             Exeunt   THE END