_Glou._ Away betimes, before his forces join, And take the great-grown traitor unawares: Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. [_Exeunt._ ACT V. SCENE I. _Coventry_. _Enter_ WARWICK, _the_ Mayor of Coventry, _two_ Messengers, _and others upon the walls_. _War._ Where is the post that came from valiant Oxford? [cea001] How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow? _First Mess._ By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward. _War._ How far off is our brother Montague? Where is the post that came from Montague? ·cea005· _Second Mess._ By this at Daintry, with a puissant troop. _Enter_ SIR JOHN SOMERVILE. _War._ Say, Somervile, what says my loving son? [cea007] And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now? _Som._ At Southam I did leave him with his forces, And do expect him here some two hours hence. [cea010] [_Drum heard._ _War._ Then Clarence is at hand; I hear his drum. _Som._ It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies: [cea012] The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick. [cea013] _War._ Who should that be? belike, unlook’d-for friends. _Som._ They are at hand, and you shall quickly know. ·cea015· _March: flourish. Enter_ KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, _and soldiers_. _K. Edw._ Go, trumpet, to the walls, and sound a parle. [cea016] _Glou._ See how the surly Warwick mans the wall! _War._ 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? ·cea020· _K. Edw._ 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? [cea023] And he shall pardon thee these outrages. _War._ Nay, rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence, ·cea025· Confess who set thee up and pluck’d thee down, Call Warwick patron and be penitent? [cea027] And thou shalt still remain the Duke of York. _Glou._ I thought, at least, he would have said the king; Or did he make the jest against his will? ·cea030· _War._ Is not a dukedom, sir, a goodly gift? _Glou._ Ay, by my faith, for a poor earl to give: I’ll do thee service for so good a gift. _War._ ’Twas I that gave the kingdom to thy brother. _K. Edw._ Why then ’tis mine, if but by Warwick’s gift. ·cea035· _War._ Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight: And, weakling, Warwick takes his gift again; And Henry is my king, Warwick his subject. _K. Edw._ But Warwick’s king is Edward’s prisoner: And, gallant Warwick, do but answer this: ·cea040· What is the body when the head is off? _Glou._ Alas, that Warwick had no more forecast, But, whiles he thought to steal the single ten, [cea043] The king was slily finger’d from the deck! [cea044] You left poor Henry at the Bishop’s palace, ·cea045· And, ten to one, you’ll meet him in the Tower. _K. Edw._ ’Tis even so; yet you are Warwick still.