Oxf. Women and Children of so high a courage,
And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame.
Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather
Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue,
To beare his Image, and renew his Glories
Som. And he that will not fight for such a hope,
Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at
Qu. Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes
Prince. And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing
else.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand,
Readie to fight: therefore be resolute
Oxf. I thought no lesse: it is his Policie,
To haste thus fast, to finde vs vnprouided
Som. But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse
Qu. This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse
Oxf. Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.
Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard, Clarence, and
Souldiers.