SCENE III. A field of battle between Towton.

[Alarums. Excursions. Enter WARWICK.]

WARWICK.
Forspent with toil, as runners with a race,
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,
And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.

[Enter EDWARD, running.]

EDWARD.
Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle death!
For this world frowns and Edward's sun is clouded.

WARWICK.
How now, my lord? what hap? what hope of good?

[Enter GEORGE.]

GEORGE.
Our hap is lost, our hope but sad despair;
Our ranks are broke and ruin follows us.
What counsel give you? whither shall we fly?