Edw. No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer stay:
These words will cost ten thousand lives this day.
[A Field of Battle between Towton and Saxton, in Yorkshire]
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwick.
I lay me down a little while to breathe;
For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid,
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their strength, 4
And spite of spite needs must I rest a while.
Enter Edward, running.
Edw. Smile, gentle heaven! or strike, ungentle death!
For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is clouded.
War. How now, my lord! what 8? what hope of good?
Clar. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair,
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us.
What counsel give you? whither shall we fly? 11
And weak we are and cannot shun pursuit.
Rich. Ah! Warwick, why hast thou withdrawn thyself?
the thirsty earth hath drunk,