Act IV.
Scene II.
Scene II.—A Plain in Warwickshire.
Enter WARWICK and OXFORD, with French and
other Forces.
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 come!
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, sweet Clarence; my daughter
shall be thine.
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 surprise and take him at our pleasure?
Our scouts have found the adventure very easy:
That as Ulysses, and stout Diomede,
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus'
tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatal
steeds;
So 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 surprise 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.
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