It is not his, my lord; here Southam lies.
The drum your honour hears marcheth from Warwick.

WARWICK.
Who should that be? belike, unlook'd-for friends.

SOMERVILLE.
They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

[March. Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOSTER, and Forces.]

KING EDWARD.
Go, trumpet, to the walls and sound a parle.

GLOSTER.
See how the surly Warwick mans the wall.

WARWICK.
O, unbid spite! Is sportful Edward come?
Where slept our scouts, or how are they seduc'd,
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,