Qu. My Lord cheere vp your spirits, our foes are nye,
And this soft courage makes your Followers faint:
You promist Knighthood to our forward sonne,
Vnsheath your sword, and dub him presently.
Edward, kneele downe
King. Edward Plantagenet, arise a Knight,
And learne this Lesson; Draw thy Sword in right
Prin. My gracious Father, by your Kingly leaue,
Ile draw it as Apparant to the Crowne,
And in that quarrell, vse it to the death
Clif. Why that is spoken like a toward Prince.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Royall Commanders, be in readinesse,
For with a Band of thirty thousand men,
Comes Warwicke backing of the Duke of Yorke,
And in the Townes as they do march along,
Proclaimes him King, and many flye to him,
Darraigne your battell, for they are at hand
Clif. I would your Highnesse would depart the field,
The Queene hath best successe when you are absent
Qu. I good my Lord, and leaue vs to our Fortune
King. Why, that's my fortune too, therefore Ile stay
North. Be it with resolution then to fight
Prin. My Royall Father, cheere these Noble Lords,
And hearten those that fight in your defence:
Vnsheath your Sword, good Father: Cry S[aint]. George.