WARWICK
What counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders,
passed in safety through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troops march amain to London;
And many giddy people flock to him.
KING HENRY
Let’s levy men and beat him back again.
GEORGE
A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which, being suffered, rivers cannot quench.
WARWICK
In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war.
Those will I muster up; and , son Clarence,
stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk, and in Kent
The knights and gentlemen to come with .
, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire find
Men well inclined to hear what command’st.
And , brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved,
In Oxfordshire muster up friends.
My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
Shall rest in London till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply.
Farewell, my sovereign.
KING HENRY
Farewell, my Hector, and my Troy’s true hope.
GEORGE
In sign of truth, I kiss your Highness’ hand.
KING HENRY
Well-minded Clarence, be fortunate.
MONTAGUE
Comfort, my lord; and so I take my leave.
OXFORD
And thus I seal my truth, and bid adieu.
KING HENRY
Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
WARWICK
Farewell, sweet lords; let’s meet at Coventry.
KING HENRY
Here at the palace will I rest a while.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship?
the power that Edward in field
Should not be able to encounter mine.
EXETER
The doubt is that he will seduce the rest.
KING HENRY
That’s not my fear; my meed got me fame.
I have not stopped mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
My pity been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness allayed their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears.
I have not been desirous of their wealth
Nor much oppressed them with great subsidies,
Nor forward of revenge, though they much erred.
Then why should they love Edward more than me?
No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace;
And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
The lamb will never cease to follow him.
EXETER
Hark, hark, my lord, what shouts are these?
KING EDWARD
Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear him ,
And once again proclaim us King of England.
You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow.
Now stops spring; my sea shall suck them dry
And swell so much the higher by their ebb.
with him to the Tower. Let him not speak.
KING EDWARD
And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course,
Where peremptory Warwick now remains.
The sun shines hot, and, if we use delay,
Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
RICHARD
Away betimes, before his forces join,
And take the great-grown traitor unawares.
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry.