| ACT V SCENE II | A field of battle near Barnet. | |
| | Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD IV, bringingforth WARWICK wounded | |
| KING EDWARD IV | 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. | 5 |
| | 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 | 10 |
| | 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 | 15 |
| | And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful 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 filled with blood, | 20 |
| | Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; | |
| | For who lived king, but I could dig his grave? | |
| | And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow? | |
| | Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood! | |
| | My parks, my walks, my manors that I had. | 25 |
| | Even now forsake me, and of all my lands | |
| | Is nothing left me but my body's length. | |
| | Why, 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. | 30 |
| | We might recover all our loss again; | |
| | The queen from France hath brought a puissant power: | |
| | Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly! | |
| WARWICK | Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague, | |
| | If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand. | 35 |
| | And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile! | |
| | Thou lovest 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. | 40 |
| SOMERSET | Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed 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, | 45 |
| | That mought not be distinguished; 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. | 50 |
| | Dies | |
| OXFORD | Away, away, to meet the queen's great power! | |
| | Here they bear away his body. Exeunt | |
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