GEORGE.
But when we saw our sunshine made thy spring,
And that thy summer bred us no increase,
We set the axe to thy usurping root;
And though the edge hath something hit ourselves,
Yet know thou, since we have begun to strike,
We’ll never leave till we have hewn thee down
Or bathed thy growing with our heated bloods.
EDWARD.
And in this resolution I defy thee;
Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deniest the gentle King to speak.
Sound trumpets! Let our bloody colours wave;
And either victory or else a grave!
QUEEN MARGARET.
Stay, Edward.
EDWARD.
No, wrangling woman, we’ll no longer stay.
These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. A field of battle between Towton and Saxton, in Yorkshire
Alarums. Excursions. Enter Warwick.
WARWICK.
Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,
I lay me down a little while to breathe;
For strokes received, and many blows repaid,
Have robbed my strong-knit sinews of their strength,
And spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.
Enter Edward, running.
EDWARD.
Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death;
For this world frowns and Edward’s sun is clouded.