Page 898 - Shakespeare - Vol. 1

Is nothing left me but my body’s length.
Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
And live we how we can, yet die we must.

Enter Oxford and Somerset.

SOMERSET

Ah, Warwick, Warwick! Wert thou as we are,
We might recover all our loss again. [30]
The queen from France hath brought a puissant power:
Even now we heard the news. Ah, could’st thou fly!

WARWICK

Why then I would not fly. Ah, Montague,
If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand
And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile. [35]
Thou lov’st me not: for, brother, if thou did’st,
Thy tears would wash this cold congealèd blood
That glues my lips and will not let me speak.
Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.

SOMERSET

Ah, Warwick, Montague hath breathed his last, [40]
And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,
And said, ‘Commend me to my valiant brother’.
And more he would have said and more he spoke,
Which sounded like a canon in a vault
That mought not be distinguished: but at last [45]
I well might hear, delivered ith a groan,
‘O farewell, Warwick!’

WARWICK

Sweet rest his soul: fly, lords, and save yourselves
For Warwick bids you all farewell - to meet in heaven.

[He dies.]

OXFORD

Away, away, to meet the queen’s great power. [50]
Here they bear away his body. Exeunt.

Scene III