That will encounter with our glorious sun

Ere he attain his easeful western bed.

I mean, my lords, those powers that the Queen

Hath raised in Gallia have arrived our coast,

And, as we hear, march on to fight with us.

GEORGE OF 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.

RICHARD OF GLOUCESTER

The Queen is valued thirty thousand strong,

And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her.

If she have time to breathe, be well assured,

Her faction will be full as strong as ours.

KING EDWARD

We are advertised by our loving friends

That they do hold their course toward Tewkesbury.

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.

⌈Flourish. March⌉ Exeunt

5.4 Flourish. March. Enter Queen Margaret, Prince Edward, the Duke of Somerset, the Earl of 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 swallowed 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 saved?

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 slaughtered 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 allowed 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 barque.

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 hoped-for mercy with the brothers York

More than with ruthless waves, with sands, and rocks.

Why, courage then—what cannot be avoided

’Twere childish weakness to lament or fear.

PRINCE EDWARD

Methinks a woman of this valiant spirit

Should, if a coward heard 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 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 live

To bear his image and renew his glories I

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 mocked and wondered at.

QUEEN MARGARET

Thanks, gentle Somerset; sweet Oxford, thanks.

PRINCE EDWARD

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 deceived; 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 King Edward, Richard Duke of Gloucester, and George Duke of Clarence, with soldiers

KING EDWARD (to his followers)

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 (to her followers)

Lords, knights, and gentlemen—what I should say

My tears gainsay; for every word I speak