Digital facsimile of the Bodleian First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Arch. G c.7
Title: Search
Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle.
Rich. Rich.
Rich. See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall.
War. War.
War. Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come?
War. Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd,
War. That we could heare no newes of his repayre.
Edw. Edw.
Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates,
Edw. Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee,
Edw. Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy,
Edw. And thou shall pardon thee these Outrages?
War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
War. Confesse who set thee vp, and pluckt thee downe,
War. Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,
War. And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke.
Rich. I thought at least he would haue said the King,
Rich. Or did he makes the Ieast against his will?