KING EDWARD.
Go, trumpet, to the walls and sound a parle.
RICHARD.
See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.
WARWICK.
O, unbid spite! Is sportful Edward come?
Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduced,
That we could hear no news of his repair?
KING EDWARD.
Now, Warwick, wilt thou ope the city gates,
Speak gentle words and humbly bend thy knee?
Call Edward King and at his hands beg mercy,
And he shall pardon thee these outrages.
WARWICK.
Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confess who set thee up and plucked thee down,
Call Warwick patron and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York.
RICHARD.
I thought, at least, he would have said the King;
Or did he make the jest against his will?
WARWICK.
Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift?
RICHARD.
Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give;
I’ll do thee service for so good a gift.
WARWICK.
’Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother.
KING EDWARD.
Why, then, ’tis mine, if but by Warwick’s gift.