The third Part of Henry the Sixt, with the death of the Duke of Yorke from Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies. Published according to the true originall copies.
Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, & tragedies
Bodleian First Folio, Arch. G c.7
Heminge, John, approximately 1556-1630 Condell, Henry, -1627Autres contributions
Droeshout, Martin, 1601- : engraver.
Jaggard, Isaac, -1627 : printer.
Blount, Edward, fl. 1594-1632 : printer.
Jaggard, William, 1569-1623 : publisher.
Smethwicke, John, -1641 : publisher.
Aspley, William, -1640 : publisher.
Bodleian Digital Library Systems and Services : creation of electronic edition.
Invida Trans It Solutions PVT. LTD. : preliminary keying and encoding by.
Pip Willcox : project management ; proofing ; encoding.
Lucienne Cummings : proofing ; encoding.
Judith Siefring : proofing ; encoding.
Emma Stanford : proofing ; encoding.
James Cummings : encoding consultation.
Sprint for Shakespeare
Crowdfunding
The second phase of the Bodleian First Folio project was made possible by a lead gift from Dr Geoffrey Eibl-Kaye and generous support from the Sallie Dickson Memorial Fund/Dallas Shakespeare Club Fund, Mr James Barber, and a private individual. The Bodleian Libraries are very grateful for this additional support, which brings new features to the digitized First Folio, enabling more efficient and intuitive use for all with an interest in Shakespeare, early modern drama, theatre and book history.
First publication edition.
Bodleian Libraries,
University of Oxford
Osney One Building
Osney Mead
Oxford
OX2 0EW
Available for reuse, according to the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 Unported.
url url Mr. William Shakespeares comedies, histories, &
tragedies.: Published according to the true originall copies.Mr. VVilliam Shakespeares comedies, histories, &
tragediesFirst FolioLondon, England:
William Jaggard, Edward
Blount, John SmethwickeBodleian Library, Arch. G c.7S111228015592789
United Kingdom, Oxford, University of Oxford, Bodleian Library, Bodleian Library, Arch. G c.7, S 2.17 Art. [first Bodleian shelfmark,
1624-1664?], Arch. F c.13 [superscript z?] [second Bodleian
shelfmark, 1906-?].
Mr VVILLIAM
SHAKESPEARES
COMEDIES,
HISTORIES, &
TRAGEDIES.
SHAKESPEARES
COMEDIES,
HISTORIES, &
TRAGEDIES.
Publiſhed according to the True Originall Copies.
London : Printed by Isaac Iaggard, and Ed. Blount [at the charges
of W. Iaggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smithweeke, and W. Aspley].,
.
349 x 323.
[18], 303, [1], 46, 49-100, [2], 69-232, [2], 79-80, [26], 76, 79-82, 80-98, [2], 109-156, 257-993 [i.e. 399], [1] p.; fol.
Numbering peculiarities: 1st count: p.50 misnumbered 58; p.59 misnumbered 51; p.86 misnumbered 88; p.153 misnumbered 151; p.161 misnumbered] 163; p.164 misnumbered 162; p. 165 misnumbered 163; p. 189 misnumbered 187; p. 249 misnumbered 251; p.250 misnumbered 252; p. 265 misnumbered 273 -- 2nd count: p.37 misnumbered 39 in some copies; p.89 misnumbered 91; p. 90 misnumbered 92 -- 3rd count: p.165-166 numbered 167 and 168 respectively; p. 216 numbered 218 -- 5th count: p. 279 misnumbered 259; p. 282 misnumbered 280; p.308 misnumbered 38; p. 379 misnumbered 389; p. 399 misnumbered 993.
The signatures varies between sources, with the most commonly cited being Hinman's and West's: 1. Hinman: πA⁶ (πA1+1) [πB²], ²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ χgg⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ χ1.2 [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ aa-ff⁶ gg² Gg⁶ hh⁶ kk-bbb⁶; 2. West: πA⁶ (πA1+1, πA5+1.2)²A-2B⁶ 2C² a-g⁶ ²g⁸ h-v⁶ x⁴ 'gg3.4' (±'gg3') [para.]-2[para.]⁶ 3[para]¹ 2a-2f⁶ 2g² 2G⁶ 2h⁶ 2k-2v⁶ x⁶ 2y-3b⁶.
Mis-signed leaves: a3 mis-signed Aa3; ³gg1 mis-signed Gg; nn1-nn2 mis-signed Nn and Nn2 and oo1 mis-signed Oo.
"The life and death of King Iohn" begins new pagination on leaf a1 recto; "The tragedy of Coriolanus" begins new pagination on leaf aa1 recto.
Lacks A1, the letterpress frontispiece entitled "To the reader".
The title page is trimmed and mounted, with a section of the mount
towards the foot of the leaf mutilated resulting in the loss of some the
Droechout imprint at the bottom left hand corner of the portrait and the
central section of an early MS note. For a full condition report,
including a full survey of damage and repairs, please contact Rare
Books.
Predominantly printed in double columns.
Text within simple lined frame.
Colophon reads: "Printed at the charges of W. Iaggard, Ed. Blount, I. Smithweeke, and W. Aspley. 1623.".
Editors’ dedication signed: Iohn Heminge. Henry Condell.
Two MS verses on first endpaper verso: 1. 9 lines of verse by an unknown author, first line reads "An active swain to make a leap was seen". 2. A copy of Ben Jonson’s printed "To the Reader"; MS note on t.p. (mutilated) appears to read "Honest [Shakes]peare". Minor annotations on leaf 2n4 (Macbeth). All in an early English hand, presumably added after leaving the Library.
Seventeenth-century (1624) English (Oxford) smooth calf. Bound for the Bodleian Library by William Wildgoose, with evidence of two cloth ties, red sprinkled edge. Formerly chained, with evidence of chain staple at the head of the upper cover. Remains of paper label at the head of the spine. Enclosed in 20th century book box by Maltby of Oxford. See S. Gibson in Original Bodleian Copy of First Folio, p. 12-13. One of four items sent out on 17th February 1624 for binding by Wildgoose containing printed waste from a copy of Cicero’s "De Officiis, et al." [Deventer: Richard Pafraet, between 1480 and 1485] as paste-downs. For more information on this work see: Bod. Inc. Cat., C-322.
For further details on the printing of this item see Hinman, Charleton. The printing and proof-reading of the First Folio of Shakespeare: Oxford, 1963.
Acquired by the Bodleian in 1623, presumably in sheets. It was sent out to William Wildgoose on for binding (see: Library Records e.258, fol. 48r) and upon its return chained in Duke Humfrey at shelfmark S 2.17 Art. It is listed in the Bodleian’s catalogue of printed books but was gone by the publication of the next catalogue in , replaced by the newer Third Folio (). There is no explicit reference in Library Records to the disposal of this copy, but there is a record of a sale of "superfluous library books" to Richard Davis, a bookseller in Oxford, in for the sum of £24.
After leaving the Bodleian this copy entered the collection of Richard Turbutt of Ogston Hall, Derbyshire at some point in the early 18th century. It stayed in the family’s possession until , when it was reacquired by the Bodleian for the sum of £3000, raised by public subscription. For a full discussion of the rediscovery and purchase of this copy see: F. Madan, G. M. R. Turbutt and S. Gibson, The Original Bodleian Copy of the First Folio of Shakespeare (theTurbutt Shakespeare) (Oxford, 1905)
For a full discussion of this copy and the digital version see http://shakespeare.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/ and West and Rasmussen (2011), 31.
Digital facsimile images available at: http://firstfolio.bodleian.ox.ac.uk/.
First Watchman
1. Watch.
Second Watchman
2. Watch.
Third Watchman
3. Watch.
All
All.
Bona, sister to the French Queen
Bona.
George Plantagenet (Duke of Clarence)
Cla
Cla.
Clar.
Clarence.
Qu.
Lord Clifford
Clif,
Clif.
Cliff.
Clifford.
King Edward IV (Plantagenet)
Ed.
Edw.
Edward.
K.
K. Ed.
K. Edw.
King Ed.
King Edw.
King.
Duke of Exeter, uncle to Henry IV, great-uncle to Henry V
Exet.
Exeter.
Father, who has killed his son
Fa.
Fath.
Gabriel (Messenger)
Gabriel.
Queen Elizabeth, starts as Lady Grey, marries Edward IV
Gray.
Lady Grey.
Wid.
Cla.
Lord Hastings
Hast.
Henry VI
Hen.
Henry.
K. Hen.
Humfrey (Second Keeper)
Hum.
Huntsman
Hunts.
Huntsman.
Sir John Mortimer, uncle to the Duke of York
Iohn.
King Lewis XI, king of France
Lew.
Lewis.
Lieutenant, of the Tower
Lieu.
Mayor of York
Maior.
Queen Margaret, daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry VI
Mar.
Marg.
Qu.
Quee.
Queene.
Messenger
Mes.
Mess.
First Messenger
Mess. 1.
Second Messenger
Mess. 2.
Marquess of Montague
Mount.
Nobleman
Nob.
Duke of Norfolk
Nor.
Norf.
Earl of Northumberland
North.
Northumb.
Earl Oxford
Oxf.
Richard Plantagenet (Duke of Gloucester), becomes duke of York in Henry VI, Part
Pl.
Plan.
Plant.
York.
Yorke.
Post
Post.
Poste.
Prince Edward
Pr. Ed.
Pr. Edw.
Prin.
Prin. Ed.
Prince Ed.
Prince.
Richard III (Duke of Gloucester), son of Richard Plantagenet, duke of York; was duke of Gloucester before enthronement
Ric.
Rich.
Richard.
Lord (Earl) Rivers
Riu.
Edmond, Earl of Rutland
Rutland.
Sinklo (First Keeper)
Sin.
Sink.
Sinklo.
Duke/Earl of Somerset, John Beaufort
Som.
Somers.
Sir John Somerville
Someru.
Son, who has killed his father
Son.
Soldier
Soul.
Tutor of Rutland
Tutor.
Earl of Warwick
War.
Warw.
Warwick.
Warwicke.
Earl of Westmoreland
Westm.
![[p. 147]](FFimg:axc0503-0.jpg){kind=link}
The third Part of Henry the Sixt,
with the death of the Duke of
YORKE.
Actus Primus. Scœna Prima.
[Act 1, Scene 1]
Alarum.
Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mount
ague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.
ague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.
Warwicke.
1I Wonder how the King escap'd our hands?
Pl.
while we pursu'd the Horsmen of the North,
He slyly stole away, and left his men:
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
5 Whose Warlike eares could neuer brooke retreat,
Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himselfe.
Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a‑brest
Charg'd our maine Battailes Front: and breaking in,
Were by the Swords of common Souldiers slaine.
Edw.
10 Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either slaine or wounded dangerous.
I cleft his Beauer with a down‑right blow:
That this is true (Father) behold his blood.
Mount.
And Brother, here's the Earle of Wiltshires
(blood,
(blood,
15 Whom I encountred as the Battels ioyn'd.
Rich.
Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did.
Plan.
Richard hath best deseru'd of all my sonnes:
But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?
Nor.
Such hope haue all the line of Iohn of Gaunt.
Rich.
20 Thus do I hope to shake King Henries head.
Warw.
And so doe I, victorious Prince of Yorke.
Before I see thee seated in that Throne,
Which now the House of Lancaster vsurpes,
I vow by Heauen, these eyes shall neuer close.
25 This is the Pallace of the fearefull King,
And this the Regall Seat: possesse it Yorke,
For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires.
Plant.
Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will,
For hither we haue broken in by force.
Norf.
30 Wee'le all assist you: he that flyes, shall dye.
Plant.
Thankes gentle Norfolke, stay by me my Lords,
And Souldiers stay and lodge by me this Night.
They goe vp.
Warw.
And when the King comes, offer him no violence,
Vnlesse he seeke to thrust you out perforce.
Plant.
35 The Queene this day here holds her Parliament,
But little thinkes we shall be of her counsaile,
By words or blowes here let vs winne our right.
Rich.
Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this House.
Warw.
The bloody Parliament shall this be call'd,
40 Vnlesse Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be King,
And bashfull Henry depos'd, whose Cowardize
Hath made vs by‑words to our enemies.
Plant.
Then leaue me not, my Lords be resolute,
I meane to take possession of my Right.
Warw.
45 Neither the King, nor he that loues him best,
The prowdest hee that holds vp Lancaster,
Dares stirre a Wing, if Warwick shake his Bells.
Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares:
Resolue thee Richard, clayme the English Crowne.
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland,
Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.
Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.
Henry.
50 My Lords, looke where the sturdie Rebell sits,
Euen in the Chayre of State: belike he meanes,
Backt by the power of Warwicke, that false Peere,
To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King.
Earle of Northumberland, he slew thy Father,
55 And thine, Lord Clifford, & you both haue vow'd reuenge
On him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his friends.
Northumb.
If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me.
Clifford.
The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne in
Steele.
Steele.
Westm.
What, shall we suffer this? lets pluck him down,
60 My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it.
Henry.
Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland.
Clifford.
Patience is for Poultroones, such as he:
He durst not sit there, had your Father liu'd.
My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament
65 Let vs assayle the Family of Yorke.
North.
Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so.
Henry.
Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them,
And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck?
Westm.
But when the Duke is slaine, they'le quickly
flye.
flye.
Henry.
70 Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart,
To make a Shambles of the Parliament House.
Cousin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats,
Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vse.
Thou factious Duke of Yorke descend my Throne,
75 And kneele for grace and mercie at my feet,
I am thy Soueraigne.
Yorke.
I am thine.
Exet.
For shame come downe, he made thee Duke of
Yorke.
Yorke.
Yorke.
It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was.
![[p. 148]](FFimg:axc0504-0.jpg){kind=link}
Exet.
80 Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne.
Warw.
Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne,
In following this vsurping Henry.
Clifford.
Whom should hee follow, but his naturall
King?
King?
Warw.
True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke.
Henry.
85 And shall I stand, and thou sit in my Throne?
Yorke.
It must and shall be so, content thy selfe.
Warw.
Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King.
Westm.
He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster,
And that the Lord of Westmerland shall maintaine.
Warw.
90 And Warwick shall disproue it. You forget,
That we are those which chas'd you from the field,
And slew your Fathers, and with Colours spread
Marcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates.
Northumb.
Yes Warwicke, I remember it to my griefe,
95 And by his Soule, thou and thy House shall rue it.
Westm.
Piantagenet, of thee and these thy Sonnes,
Thy Kinsmen, and thy Friends, Ile haue more liues
Then drops of bloud were in my Fathers Veines.
Cliff.
Vrge it no more, lest that in stead of words,
100 I send thee, Warwicke, such a Messenger,
As shall reuenge his death, before I stirre.
Warw.
Poore Clifford, how I scorne his worthlesse
Threats.
Threats.
Plant.
Will you we shew our Title to the Crowne?
If not, our Swords shall pleade it in the field.
Henry.
105 What Title hast thou Traytor to the Crowne?
My Father was as thou art, Duke of Yorke,
Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of March.
I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift,
Who made the Dolphin and the French to stoupe,
110 And seiz'd vpon their Townes and Prouinces.
Warw.
Talke not of France, sith thou hast lost it all.
Henry.
The Lord Protector lost it, and not I:
When I was crown'd, I was but nine moneths old.
Rich.
You are old enough now,
115 And yet me thinkes you loose:
Father teare the Crowne from the Vsurpers Head.
Edward.
Sweet Father doe so, set it on your Head.
Mount.
Good Brother,
As thou lou'st and honorest Armes,
120 Let's fight it out, and not stand cauilling thus.
Richard.
Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the
King will flye.
King will flye.
Plant.
Sonnes peace.
Henry.
Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue to
speake.
speake.
Warw.
Plantagenet shal speake first: Heare him Lords,
125 And be you silent and attentiue too,
For he that interrupts him, shall not liue.
Hen.
Think'st thou, that I will leaue my Kingly Throne,
Wherein my Grandsire and my Father sat?
No: first shall Warre vnpeople this my Realme;
130 I, and their Colours often borne in France,
And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow,
Shall be my Winding‑sheet. Why faint you Lords?
My Title's good, and better farre then his.
Warw.
Proue it Henry, and thou shalt be King.
Hen.
135 Henry the Fourth by Conquest got the Crowne.
Plant.
'Twas by Rebellion against his King.
Henry.
I know not what to say, my Titles weake:
Tell me, may not a King adopt an Heire?
Plant.
What then?
Henry.
140 And if he may, then am I lawfull King:
For Richard, in the view of many Lords,
Resign'd the Crowne to Henry the Fourth,
Whose Heire my Father was, and I am his.
Plant.
He rose against him, being his Soueraigne,
145 And made him to resigne his Crowne perforce.
Warw.
Suppose, my Lords, he did it vnconstrayn'd,
Thinke you 'twere preiudiciall to his Crowne?
Exet.
No: for he could not so resigne his Crowne,
But that the next Heire should succeed and reigne.
Henry.
150 Art thou against vs, Duke of Exeter?
Exet.
His is the right, and therefore pardon me.
Plant.
Why whisper you, my Lords, and answer not?
Exet.
My Conscience tells me he is lawfull King.
Henry.
All will reuolt from me, and turne to him.
Northumb.
155 Plantagenet, for all the Clayme thou lay'st,
Thinke not, that Henry shall be so depos'd.
Warw.
Depos'd he shall be, in despight of all.
Northumb.
Thou art deceiu'd:
'Tis not thy Southerne power
160 Of Essex, Norfolke, Suffolke, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and prowd,
Can set the Duke vp in despight of me.
Clifford.
King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford vowes to fight in thy defence:
165 May that ground gape, and swallow me aliue,
Where I shall kneele to him that slew my Father.
Henry.
Oh Clifford, how thy words reuiue my heart.
Plant.
Henry of Lancaster, resigne thy Crowne:
What mutter you, or what conspire you Lords?
Warw.
170 Doe right vnto this Princely Duke of Yorke,
Or I will fill the House with armed men,
And ouer the Chayre of state, where now he sits,
Write vp his Title with vsurping blood.
He stampes with his foot, and the Souldiers
shew themselues.
shew themselues.
Henry.
My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word,
175 Let me for this my life time reigne as King.
Plant.
Confirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires,
And thou shalt reigne in quiet while thou liu'st.
Henry.
I am content: Richard Plantagenet
Enioy the Kingdome after my decease.
Clifford.
180 What wrong is this vnto the Prince, your
Sonne?
Sonne?
Warw.
What good is this to England, and himselfe?
Westm.
Base, fearefull, and despayring Henry.
Clifford.
How hast thou iniur'd both thy selfe and vs?
Westm.
I cannot stay to heare these Articles.
Northumb.
185 Nor I.
Clifford.
Come Cousin, let vs tell the Queene these
Newes.
Newes.
Westm.
Farwell faint‑hearted and degenerate King,
In whose cold blood no sparke of Honor bides.
Northumb.
Be thou a prey vnto the House of Yorke,
190 And dye in Bands, for this vnmanly deed.
Cliff.
In dreadfull Warre may'st thou be ouercome,
Or liue in peace abandon'd and despis'd.
Warw.
Turne this way Henry, and regard them not.
Exeter.
They seeke reuenge, and therefore will not
yeeld.
yeeld.
Henry.
195 Ah Exeter.
Warw.
Why should you sigh, my Lord?
Henry.
Not for my selfe Lord Warwick, but my Sonne,
Whom I vnnaturally shall dis‑inherite.
But be it as it may: I here entayle
200 The Crowne to thee and to thine Heires for euer,
Conditionally, that heere thou take an Oath,
To cease this Ciuill Warre: and whil'st I liue,
To
[p. 149]
The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 149]](FFimg:axc0505-0.jpg){kind=link}
To honor me as thy King, and Soueraigne:
And neyther by Treason nor Hostilitie,
205 To seeke to put me downe, and reigne thy selfe.
Plant.
This Oath I willingly take, and will performe.
Warw.
Long liue King Henry: Plantagenet embrace
him.
him.
Henry.
And long liue thou, and these thy forward
Sonnes.
Sonnes.
Plant.
Now Yorke and Lancaster are reconcil'd.
Exet.
210 Accurst be he that seekes to make them foes.
Senet. Here they come downe.
Plant.
Farewell my gracious Lord, Ile to my Castle.
Warw.
And Ile keepe London with my Souldiers.
Norf.
And I to Norfolke with my follower[.].
Mount.
And I vnto the Sea, from whence I came.
Henry.
215 And I with griefe and sorrow to the Court.
Enter the Queene.
Exeter.
Heere comes the Queene,
Whose Lookes bewray her anger:
Ile steale away.
Henry.
Exeter so will I.
Queene.
220 Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee.
Henry.
Be patient gentle Queene, and I will stay.
Queene.
Who can be patient in such extreames?
Ah wretched man, would I had dy'de a Maid?
And neuer seene thee, neuer borne thee Sonne,
225 Seeing thou hast prou'd so vnnaturall a Father.
Hath he deseru'd to loose his Birth‑right thus?
Hadst thou but lou'd him halfe so well as I,
Or felt that paine which I did for him once,
Or nourisht him, as I did with my blood;
230 Thou would'st haue left thy dearest heart‑blood there,
Rather then haue made that sauage Duke thine Heire,
And dis‑inherited thine onely Sonne.
Prince.
Father, you cannot dis‑inherite me:
If you be King, why should not I succeede?
Henry.
235 Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet Sonne,
The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enforc't me.
Quee.
Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forc't?
I shame to heare thee speake: ah timorous Wretch,
Thou hast vndone thy selfe, thy Sonne, and me,
240 And giu'n vnto the House of Yorke such head,
As thou shalt reigne but by their sufferance.
To entayle him and his Heires vnto the Crowne,
What is it, but to make thy Sepulcher,
And creepe into it farre before thy time?
245 Warwick is Chancelor, and the Lord of Callice,
Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas,
The Duke is made Protector of the Realme,
And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safetie findes
The trembling Lambe, inuironned with Wolues.
250 Had I beene there, which am a silly Woman,
The Souldiers should haue toss'd me on their Pikes,
Before I would haue granted to that Act.
But thou preferr'st thy Life, before thine Honor.
And seeing thou do'st, I here diuorce my selfe,
255 Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed,
Vntill that Act of Parliament be repeal'd,
Whereby my Sonne is dis‑inherited.
The Northerne Lords, that haue forsworne thy Colours,
Will follow mine, if once they see them spread:
260 And spread they shall be, to thy foule disgrace,
And vtter ruine of the House of Yorke.
Thus doe I leaue thee: Come Sonne, let's away,
Our Army is ready; come, wee'le after them.
Henry.
Stay gentle Margaret, and heare me speake.
Queene.
265 Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee
gone.
gone.
Henry.
Gentle Sonne Edward, thou wilt stay me?
Queene.
I, to be murther'd by his Enemies.
Prince.
When I returne with victorie to the field,
Ile see your Grace: till then, Ile follow her.
Queene.
270 Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus.
Henry.
Poore Queene,
How loue to me, and to her Sonne,
Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage.
Reueng'd may she be on that hatefull Duke,
275 Whose haughtie spirit, winged with desire,
Will cost my Crowne, and like an emptie Eagle,
Tyre on the flesh of me, and of my Sonne.
The losse of those three Lords torments my heart:
Ile write vnto them, and entreat them faire;
280 Come Cousin, you shall be the Messenger.
Exet.
And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all.
Exit.
[Act 1, Scene 2]
Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and
Mountague.
Mountague.
Richard.
Brother, though I bee youngest, giue mee
leaue.
leaue.
Edward.
No, I can better play the Orator.
Mount.
But I haue reasons strong and forceable.
Enter the Duke of Yorke.
Yorke.
285 Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a strife?
What is your Quarrell? how began it first?
Edward.
No Quarrell, but a slight Contention.
Yorke.
About what?
Rich.
About that which concernes your Grace and vs,
290 The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours.
Yorke.
Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead.
Richard.
Your Right depends not on his life, or death.
Edward.
Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now:
By giuing the House of Lancaster leaue to breathe,
295 It will out‑runne you, Father, in the end.
Yorke.
I tooke an Oath, that hee should quietly
reigne.
reigne.
Edward.
But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken:
I would breake a thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere.
Richard.
No: God forbid your Grace should be for
sworne.
sworne.
Yorke.
300 I shall be, if I clayme by open Warre.
Richard.
Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare mee
speake.
speake.
Yorke.
Thou canst not, Sonne: it is impossible.
Richard.
An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke
Before a true and lawfull Magistrate,
305 That hath authoritie ouer him that sweares.
Henry had none, but did vsurpe the place.
Then seeing 'twas he that made you to depose,
Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous.
Therefore to Armes: and Father doe but thinke,
310 How sweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne,
Within whose Circuit is Elizium,
And all that Poets faine of Blisse and Ioy.
Why doe we linger thus? I cannot rest,
Vntill the White Rose that I weare, be dy'de
315 Euen in the luke‑warme blood of Henries heart.
Yorke.
Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye.
Brother, thou shalt to London presently,
And whet on Warwick to this Enterprise.
Thou
[p. 150]
The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 150]](FFimg:axc0506-0.jpg){kind=link}
Thou Richard shalt to the Duke of Norfolke,
320 And tell him priuily of our intent.
You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham,
With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise.
In them I trust: for they are Souldiors,
Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit.
325 While you are thus imploy'd, what resteth more?
But that I seeke occasion how to rise,
And yet the King not priuie to my Drift,
Nor any of the House of Lancaster.
Enter Gabriel.
But stay, what Newes? Why comm'st thou in such
poste?
poste?
Gabriel.
330 The Queene,
With all the Northerne Earles and Lords,
Intend here to besiege you in your Castle.
She is hard by, with twentie thousand men:
And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord.
Yorke.
335 I, with my Sword.
What? think'st thou, that we feare them?
Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me,
My Brother Mountague shall poste to London.
Let Noble Warwicke, Cobham, and the rest,
340 Whom we haue left Protectors of the King,
With powrefull Pollicie strengthen themselues,
And trust not simple Henry, nor his Oathes.
Mount.
Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not.
And thus most humbly I doe take my leaue.
Exit Mountague.
Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.
Yorke.
345 Sir Iohn, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles,
You are come to Sandall in a happie houre.
The Armie of the Queene meane to besiege vs.
Iohn.
Shee shall not neede, wee'le meete her in the
field.
field.
Yorke.
What, with fiue thousand men?
Richard.
350 I, with fiue hundred, Father, for a neede.
A Woman's generall: what should we feare?
A March afarre off.
Edward.
I heare their Drummes:
Let's set our men in order,
And issue forth, and bid them Battaile straight.
Yorke.
355 Fiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great,
I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Victorie.
Many a Battaile haue I wonne in France,
When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one:
Why should I not now haue the like successe?
Alarum. Exit.
[Act 1, Scene 3]
Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.
Rutland.
360 Ah, whither shall I flye, to scape their hands?
Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes.
Enter Clifford.
Clifford.
Chaplaine away, thy Priesthood saues thy life.
As for the Brat of this accursed Duke,
Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye.
Tutor.
365 And I, my Lord, will beare him company.
Clifford.
Souldiers, away with him.
Tutor.
Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child,
Least thou be hated both of God and Man.
Exit.
Clifford.
How now? is he dead alreadie?
370 Or is it feare, that makes him close his eyes?
Ile open them.
Rutland.
So looks the pent‑vp Lyon o're the Wretch,
That trembles vnder his deuouring Pawes:
And so he walkes, insulting o're his Prey,
375 And so he comes, to rend his Limbes asunder.
Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword,
And not with such a cruell threatning Looke.
Sweet Clifford heare me speake, before I dye:
I am too meane a subiect for thy Wrath,
380 Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue.
Clifford.
In vaine thou speak'st, poore Boy:
My Fathers blood hath stopt the passage
Where thy words should enter.
Rutland.
Then let my Fathers blood open it againe,
385 He is a man, and Clifford cope with him.
Clifford.
Had I thy Brethren here, their liues and thine
Were not reuenge sufficient for me:
No, if I digg'd vp thy fore‑fathers Graues,
And hung their rotten Coffins vp in Chaynes,
390 It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart.
The sight of any of the House of Yorke,
Is as a furie to torment my Soule:
And till I root out their accursed Line,
And leaue not one aliue, I liue in Hell.
395 Therefore‑‑‑
Rutland.
Oh let me pray, before I take my death:
To thee I pray; sweet Clifford pitty me.
Clifford.
Such pitty as my Rapiers point affords.
Rutland.
I neuer did thee harme: why wilt thou slay
me?
me?
Clifford.
400 Thy Father hath.
Rutland.
But 'twas ere I was borne.
Thou hast one Sonne, for his sake pitty me,
Least in reuenge thereof, sith God is iust,
He be as miserably slaine as I.
405 Ah, let me liue in Prison all my dayes,
And when I giue occasion of offence,
Then let me dye, for now thou hast no cause.
Clifford.
No cause? thy Father slew my Father: there
fore dye.
fore dye.
Rutland.
Dis faciant laudis summa sit ista tuæ.
Clifford.
410 Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet:
And this thy Sonnes blood cleauing to my Blade,
Shall rust vpon my Weapon, till thy blood
Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both.
Exit.
[Act 1, Scene 4]
Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of Yorke.
Yorke.
The Army of the Queene hath got the field:
415 My Vnckles both are slaine, in rescuing me;
And all my followers, to the eager foe
Turne back, and flye, like Ships before the Winde,
Or Lambes pursu'd by hunger‑starued Wolues.
My Sonnes, God knowes what hath bechanced them:
420 But this I know, they haue demean'd themselues
Like men borne to Renowne, by Life or Death.
Three times did Richard make a Lane to me,
And thrice cry'de, Courage Father, fight it out:
And full as oft came Edward to my side,
425 With Purple Faulchion, painted to the Hilt,
In blood of those that had encountred him:
And when the hardyest Warriors did retyre,
Richard cry'de, Charge, and giue no foot of ground,
And cry'de, A Crowne, or else a glorious Tombe,
A
[p. 151]
The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 151]](FFimg:axc0507-0.jpg){kind=link}
430 A Scepter, or an Earthly Sepulchre.
With this we charg'd againe: but out alas,
We bodg'd againe, as l haue seene a Swan
With bootlesse labour swimme against the Tyde,
And spend her strength with ouer‑matching Waues.
A short Alarum within.
435 Ah hearke, the fatall followers doe pursue,
And I am faint, and cannot flye their furie:
And were I strong, I would not shunne their furie.
The Sands are numbred, that makes vp my Life,
Here must I stay, and here my Life must end.
Enter the Queene, Clifford, Northumberland,
the young Prince, and Souldiers.
the young Prince, and Souldiers.
440 Come bloody Clifford, rough Northumberland,
I dare your quenchlesse furie to more rage;
I am your Butt, and I abide your Shot.
Northumb.
Yeeld to our mercy, proud Plantagenet.
Clifford.
I, to such mercy, as his ruthlesse Arme
445 With downe‑right payment, shew'd vnto my Father.
Now Phaeton hath tumbled from his Carre,
And made an Euening at the Noone‑tide Prick.
Yorke.
My ashes, as the Phœnix, may bring forth
A Bird, that will reuenge vpon you all:
450 And in that hope, I throw mine eyes to Heauen,
Scorning what ere you can afflict me with.
Why come you not? what, multitudes, and feare?
Cliff.
So Cowards fight, when they can flye no further,
So Doues doe peck the Faulcons piercing Tallons,
455 So desperate Theeues, all hopelesse of their Liues,
Breathe out Inuectiues 'gainst the Officers.
Yorke.
Oh Clifford, but bethinke thee once againe,
And in thy thought ore‑run my former time:
And if thou canst, for blushing, view this face,
460 And bite thy tongue, that slanders him with Cowardice,
Whose frowne hath made thee faint and flye ere this.
Clifford.
I will not bandie with thee word for word,
But buckler with thee blowes twice two for one.
Queene.
Hold valiant Clifford, for a thousand causes
465 I would prolong a while the Traytors Life:
Wrath makes him deafe; speake thou Northumberland.
Northumb.
Hold Clifford, doe not honor him so much,
To prick thy finger, though to wound his heart.
What valour were it, when a Curre doth grinne,
470 For one to thrust his Hand betweene his Teeth,
When he might spurne him with his Foot away?
It is Warres prize, to take all Vantages,
And tenne to one, is no impeach of Valour.
Clifford.
I, I, so striues the Woodcocke with the
Gynne.
Gynne.
Northumb.
475 So doth the Connie struggle in the
Net.
Net.
York.
So triumph Theeues vpon their conquer'd Booty,
So True men yeeld with Robbers, so o're‑matcht.
Northumb.
What would your Grace haue done vnto
him now?
him now?
Queene.
Braue Warriors, Clifford, and Northumberland,
480 Come make him stand vpon this Mole‑hill here,
That raught at Mountaines with out‑stretched Armes,
Yet parted but the shadow with his Hand.
What, was it you that would be Englands King?
Was't you that reuell'd in our Parliament,
485 And made a Preachment of you high Descent?
Where are your Messe of Sonnes, to back you now?
The wanton Edward, and the lustie George?
And where's that valiant Crook‑back Prodigie,
Dickie, your Boy, that with his grumbling voyce
490 Was wont to cheare his Dad in Mutinies?
Or with the rest, where is your Darling, Rutland?
Looke Yorke, I stayn'd this Napkin with the blood
That valiant Clifford, with his Rapiers point,
Made issue from the Bosome of the Boy:
495 And if thine eyes can water for his death,
I giue thee this to drie thy Cheekes withall.
Alas poore Yorke, but that I hate thee deadly,
I should lament thy miserable state.
I prythee grieue, to make me merry, Yorke.
500 What, hath thy fierie heart so parcht thine entrayles,
That not a Teare can fall, for Rutlands death?
Why art thou patient, man? thou should'st be mad:
And I, to make thee mad, doe mock thee thus.
Stampe, raue, and fret, that I may sing and dance.
505 Thou would'st be fee'd, I see, to make me sport:
Yorke cannot speake, vnlesse he weare a Crowne.
A Crowne for Yorke; and Lords, bow lowe to him:
Hold you his hands, whilest I doe set it on.
I marry Sir, now lookes he like a King:
510 I, this is he that tooke King Henries Chaire,
And this is he was his adopted Heire.
But how is it, that great Plantagenet
Is crown'd so soone, and broke his solemne Oath?
As I bethinke me, you should not be King,
515 Till our King Henry had shooke hands with Death.
And will you pale your head in Henries Glory,
And rob his Temples of the Diademe,
Now in his Life, against your holy Oath?
Oh 'tis a fault too too vnpardonable.
520 Off with the Crowne; and with the Crowne, his Head,
And whilest we breathe, take time to doe him dead.
Clifford.
That is my Offce, for my Fathers sake.
Queene.
Nay stay, let's heare the Orizons hee
makes.
makes.
Yorke.
Shee‑Wolfe of France,
525 But worse then Wolues of France,
Whose Tongue more poysons then the Adders Tooth:
How ill‑beseeming is it in thy Sex,
To triumph like an Amazonian Trull,
Vpon their Woes, whom Fortune captiuates?
530 But that thy Face is Vizard‑like, vnchanging,
Made impudent with vse of euill deedes.
I would assay, prowd Queene, to make thee blush.
To tell thee whence thou cam'st, of whom deriu'd,
Were shame enough, to shame thee,
535 Wert thou not shamelesse.
Thy Father beares the type of King of Naples,
Of both the Sicils, and Ierusalem,
Yet not so wealthie as an English Yeoman.
Hath that poore Monarch taught thee to insult?
540 It needes not, nor it bootes thee not, prowd Queene,
Vnlesse the Adage must be verify'd,
That Beggers mounted, runne their Horse to death.
'Tis Beautie that doth oft make Women prowd,
But God he knowes, thy share thereof is small.
545 'Tis Vertue, that doth make them most admir'd,
The contrary, doth make thee wondred at.
'Tis Gouernment that makes them seeme Diuine,
The want thereof, makes thee abhominable.
Thou art as opposite to euery good,
550 As the Antipodes are vnto vs,
Or as the South to the Septentrion.
Oh Tygres Heart, wrapt in a Womans Hide,
How
[p. 152]
The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 152]](FFimg:axc0508-0.jpg){kind=link}
How could'st thou drayne the Life‑blood of the Child,
To bid the Father wipe his eyes withall,
555 And yet be seene to beare a Womans face?
Women are soft, milde, pittifull, and flexible;
Thou, sterne, obdurate, flintie, rough, remorselesse.
Bidst thou me rage? why now thou hast thy wish.
Would'st haue me weepe? why now thou hast thy will.
560 For raging Wind blowes vp incessant showers,
And when the Rage allayes, the Raine begins.
These Teares are my sweet Rutlands Obsequies,
And euery drop cryes vengeance for his death,
'Gainst thee fell Clifford, and thee false French‑woman.
Northumb.
565 Beshrew me, but his passions moues me so,
That hardly can I check my eyes from Teares.
Yorke.
That Face of his,
The hungry Caniballs would not haue toucht,
Would not haue stayn'd with blood:
570 But you are more inhumane, more inexorable,
Oh, tenne times more then Tygers of Hyrcania.
See, ruthlesse Queene, a haplesse Fathers Teares:
This Cloth thou dipd'st in blood of my sweet Boy,
And I with Teares doe wash the blood away.
575 Keepe thou the Napkin, and goe boast of this,
And if thou tell'st the heauie storie right,
Vpon my Soule, the hearers will shed Teares:
Yea, euen my Foes will shed fast‑falling Teares,
And say, Alas, it was a pittious deed.
580 There, take the Crowne, and with the Crowne, my Curse,
And in thy need, such comfort come to thee,
As now I reape at thy too cruell hand.
Hard‑hearted Clifford, take me from the World,
My Soule to Heauen, my Blood vpon your Heads.
Northumb.
585 Had he been slaughter‑man to all my Kinne,
I should not for my Life but weepe with him,
To see how inly Sorrow gripes his Soule.
Queene.
What, weeping ripe, my Lord Northumberland?
Thinke but vpon the wrong he did vs all,
590 And that will quickly drie thy melting Teares.
Clifford.
Heere's for my Oath, heere's for my Fathers
Death.
Death.
Queene.
And heere's to right our gentle‑hearted
King.
King.
Yorke.
Open thy Gate of Mercy, gracious God,
My Soule flyes through these wounds, to seeke out thee.
Queene.
595 Off with his Head, and set it on Yorke Gates,
So Yorke may ouer‑looke the Towne of Yorke.
Flourish. Exit.
[Act 2, Scene 1]
A March. Enter Edward, Richard,
and their power.
and their power.
Edward.
I wonder how our Princely Father scap't:
Or whether he be scap't away, or no,
From Cliffords and Northumberlands pursuit?
600 Had he been ta'ne, we should haue heard the newes;
Had he beene slaine, we should haue heard the newes:
Or had he scap't, me thinkes we should haue heard
The happy tidings of his good escape.
How fares my Brother? why is he so sad?
Richard.
605 I cannot ioy, vntill I be resolu'd
Where our right valiant Father is become.
I saw him in the Battaile range about,
And watcht him how he fingled Clifford forth.
Me thought he bore him in the thickest troupe,
610 As doth a Lyon in a Heard of Neat,
Or as a Beare encompass'd round with Dogges:
Who hauing pincht a few, and made them cry,
The rest stand all aloofe, and barke at him.
So far'd our Father with his Enemies,
615 So fled his Enemies my Warlike Father:
Me thinkes 'tis prize enough to be his Sonne.
See how the Morning opes her golden Gates,
And takes her farwell of the glorious Sunne.
How well resembles it the prime of Youth,
620 Trimm'd like a Yonker, prauncing to his Loue?
Ed.
Dazle mine eyes, or doe I see three Sunnes?
Rich.
Three glorious Sunnes, each one a perfect Sunne,
Not seperated with the racking Clouds,
But seuer'd in a pale cleare‑shining Skye.
625 See, see, they ioyne, embrace, and seeme to kisse,
As if they vow'd some League inuiolable.
Now are they but one Lampe, one Light, one Sunne:
In this, the Heauen figures some euent.
Edward.
'Tis wondrous strange,
630 The like yet neuer heard of.
I thinke it cites vs (Brother) to the field,
That wee, the Sonnes of braue Plantagenet,
Each one alreadie blazing by our meedes,
Should notwithstanding ioyne our Lights together,
635 And ouer‑shine the Earth, as this the World.
What ere it bodes, hence‑forward will I beare
Vpon my Targuet three faire shining Sunnes.
Richard.
Nay, beare three Daughters:
By your leaue, I speake it,
640 You loue the Breeder better then the Male.
Enter one blowing.
But what art thou, whose heauie Lookes fore‑tell
Some dreadfull story hanging on thy Tongue?
Mess.
Ah, one that was a wofull looker on,
When as the Noble Duke of Yorke was slaine,
645 Your Princely Father, and my louing Lord.
Edward.
Oh speake no more, for I haue heard too
much.
much.
Richard.
Say how he dy'de, for I will heare it all.
Mess.
Enuironed he was with many foes,
And stood against them, as the hope of Troy
650 Against the Greekes, that would haue entred Troy.
But Hercules himselfe must yeeld to oddes:
And many stroakes, though with a little Axe,
Hewes downe and fells the hardest‑tymber'd Oake.
By many hands your Father was subdu'd,
655 But onely slaught'red by the irefull Arme
Of vn‑relenting Clifford, and the Queene:
Who crown'd the gracious Duke in high despight,
Laugh'd in his face: and when with griefe he wept,
The ruthlesse Queene gaue him, to dry his Cheekes,
660 A Napkin, steeped in the harmelesse blood
Of sweet young Rutland, by rough Clifford slaine:
And after many scornes, many foule taunts,
They tooke his Head, and on the Gates of Yorke
They set the same, and there it doth remaine,
665 The saddest spectacle that ere I view'd.
Edward.
Sweet Duke of Yorke, our Prop to leane vpon,
Now thou art gone, wee haue no Staffe, no Stay.
Oh Clifford, boyst'rous Clifford, thou hast slaine
The flowre of Europe, for his Cheualrie,
670 And trecherously hast thou vanquisht him,
For hand to hand he would haue vanquisht thee.
Now my Soules Pallace is become a Prison:
Ah, would she breake from hence, that this my body
Might
[p. 153]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 153]](FFimg:axc0509-0.jpg){kind=link}
Might in the ground be closed vp in rest:
675 For neuer henceforth shall I ioy againe:
Neuer, oh neuer shall I see more ioy.
Rich.
I cannot weepe: for all my bodies moysture
Scarse serues to quench my Furnace‑burning hart:
Nor can my tongue vnloade my hearts great burthen,
680 For selfe‑same winde that I would speake withall,
Is kindling coales that fires all my brest,
And burnes me vp with flames, that tears would quench,
To weepe, is to make lesse the depth of greefe:
Teares then for Babes; Blowes, and Reuenge for mee.
685 Richard, I beare thy name, Ile venge thy death,
Or dye renowned by attempting it.
Ed.
His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee:
His Dukedome, and his Chaire with me is left.
Rich.
Nay, if thou be that Princely Eagles Bird,
690 Shew thy descent by gazing 'gainst the Sunne:
For Chaire and Dukedome, Throne and Kingdome say,
Either that is thine, or else thou wer't not his.
March. Enter Warwicke, Marquesse Mountacute,
and their Army.
and their Army.
Warwick.
How now faire Lords? What faire? What
newes abroad?
newes abroad?
Rich.
Great Lord of Warwicke, if we should recompt
695 Our balefull newes, and at each words deliuerance
Stab Poniards in our flesh, till all were told,
The words would adde more anguish then the wounds.
O valiant Lord, the Duke of Yorke is slaine.
Edw.
O Warwicke, Warwicke, that Plantagenet
700 Which held thee deerely, as his Soules Redemption,
Is by the sterne Lord Clifford done to death.
War.
Ten dayes ago, I drown'd these newes in teares.
And now to adde more measure to your woes,
I come to tell you things sith then befalne.
705 After the bloody Fray at Wakefield fought,
Where your braue Father breath'd his latest gaspe,
Tydings, as swiftly as the Postes could runne,
Were brought me of your Losse, and his Depart.
I then in London, keeper of the King,
710 Muster'd my Soldiers, gathered flockes of Friends,
Marcht toward Saint Albons, to intercept the Queene,
Bearing the King in my behalfe along:
For by my Scouts, I was aduertised
That she was comming with a full intent
715 To dash our late Decree in Parliament,
Touching King Henries Oath, and your Succession:
Short Tale to make, we at Saint Albons met,
Our Battailes ioyn'd, and both sides fiercely fought:
But whether 'twas the coldnesse of the King,
720 Who look'd full gently on his warlike Queene,
That robb'd my Soldiers of their heated Spleene.
Or whether 'twas report of her successe,
Or more then common feare of Cliffords Rigour,
Who thunders to his Captiues, Blood and Death,
725 I cannot iudge: but to conclude with truth,
Their Weapons like to Lightning, came and went:
Our Souldiers like the Night‑Owles lazie flight,
Or like a lazie Thresher with a Flaile,
Fell gently downe, as if they strucke their Friends.
730 I cheer'd them vp with iustice of our Cause,
With promise of high pay, and great Rewards:
But all in vaine, they had no heart to fight,
And we (in them) no hope to win the day,
So that we fled: the King vnto the Queene,
735 Lord George, your Brother, Norfolke, and my Selfe,
In haste, post haste, are come to ioyne with you:
For in the Marches heere we heard you were,
Making another Head, to fight againe.
Ed.
Where is the Duke of Norfolke, gentle Warwick?
740 And when came George from Burgundy to England?
War.
Some six miles off the Duke is with the Soldiers,
And for your Brother be was lately sent
From your kinde Aunt Dutchesse of Burgundie,
With ayde of Souldiers to this needfull Warre.
Rich.
745 'Twas oddes belike, when valiant Warwick fled;
Oft haue I heard his praises in Pursuite,
But ne're till now, his Scandall of Retire.
War.
Nor now my Scandall Richard, dost thou heare:
For thou shalt know this strong right hand of mine,
750 Can plucke the Diadem from faint Henries head,
And wring the awefull Scepter from his Fist,
Were he as famous, and as bold in Warre,
As he is fam'd for Mildnesse, Peace, and Prayer.
Rich.
I know it well Lord Warwick, blame me not,
755 'Tis loue I beare thy glories make me speake:
But in this troublous time, what's to be done?
Shall we go throw away our Coates of Steele,
And wrap our bodies in blacke mourning Gownes,
Numb'ring our Aue‑Maries with our Beads?
760 Or shall we on the Helmets of our Foes
Tell our Deuotion with reuengefull Armes?
If for the last, say I, and to it Lords.
War.
Why therefore Warwick came to seek you out,
And therefore comes my Brother Mountague:
765 Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene,
With Clifford, and the haught Northumberland,
And of their Feather, many moe proud Birds,
Haue wrought the easie‑melting King, like Wax.
He swore consent to your Succession,
770 His Oath enrolled in the Parliament.
And now to London all the crew are gone,
To frustrate both his Oath, and what beside
May make against the house of Lancaster.
Their power (I thinke) is thirty thousand strong:
775 Now, if the helpe of Norfolke, and my selfe,
With all the Friends that thou braue Earle of March,
Among'st the louing Welshmen can'st procure,
Will but amount to fiue and twenty thousand,
Why Via, to London will we march,
780 And once againe, bestride our foaming Steeds,
And once againe cry Charge vpon our Foes,
But neuer once againe turne backe and flye.
Rich.
I, now me thinks I heare great Warwick speak;
Ne're may he liue to see a Sun‑shine day,
785 That cries Retire, if Warwicke bid him stay.
Ed.
Lord Warwicke, on thy shoulder will I leane,
And when thou failst (as God forbid the houre)
Must Edward fall, which perill heauen forefend.
War.
No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke:
790 The next degree, is Englands Royall Throne:
For King of England shalt thou be proclaim'd
In euery Burrough as we passe along,
And he that throwes not vp his cap for ioy,
Shall for the Fault make forfeit of his head.
795 King Edward, valiant Richard Mountague:
Stay we no longer, dreaming of Renowne,
But sound the Trumpets, and about our Taske.
Rich.
Then Clifford, were thy heart as hard as Steele,
As thou hast shewne it flintie by thy deeds,
800 I come to pierce it, or to giue thee mine.
Ed.
Then strike vp Drums, God and Saint George for vs.
![[p. 154]](FFimg:axc0510-0.jpg){kind=link}
Enter a Messenger.
War.
How now? what newes?
Mes.
The Duke of Norfolke sends you word by me,
The Queene is comming with a puissant Hoast,
805 And craues your company, for speedy counsell.
War.
Why then it sorts, braue Warriors, let's away.
Exeunt Omnes.
[Act 2, Scene 2]
Flourish. Enter the King, the Queene, Clifford, Northum‑
and Yong Prince, with Drumme and
Trumpettes.
and Yong Prince, with Drumme and
Trumpettes.
Qu.
Welcome my Lord, to this braue town of Yorke,
Yonders the head of that Arch‑enemy,
That sought to be incompast with your Crowne.
810 Doth not the obiect cheere your heart, my Lord.
K.
I, as the rockes cheare them that feare their wrack,
To see this sight, it irkes my very soule:
With‑hold reuenge (deere God) 'tis not my fault,
Nor wittingly haue I infring'd my Vow.
Clif.
815 My gracious Liege, this too much lenity
And harmfull pitty must be layd aside:
To whom do Lyons cast their gentle Lookes?
Not to the Beast, that would vsurpe their Den.
Whose hand is that the Forrest Beare doth licke?
820 Not his that spoyles her yong before her face.
Who scapes the lurking Serpents mortall sting?
Not he that sets his foot vpon her backe.
The smallest Worme will turne, being troden on,
And Doues will pecke in safegard of their Brood.
825 Ambitious Yorke, did leuell at thy Crowne,
Thou smiling, while he knit his angry browes.
He but a Duke, would haue his Sonne a King,
And raise his issue like a louing Sire.
Thou being a King, blest with a goodly sonne,
830 Did'st yeeld consent to disinherit him:
Which argued thee a most vnlouing Father.
Vnreasonable Creatures feed their young,
And though mans face be fearefull to their eyes,
Yet in protection of their tender ones,
835 Who hath not seene them euen with those wings,
Which sometime they haue vs'd with fearfull flight,
Make warre with him that climb'd vnto their nest,
Offering their owne liues in their yongs defence?
For shame, my Liege, make them your President:
840 Were it not pitty that this goodly Boy
Should loose his Birth‑right by his Fathers fault,
And long heereafter say vnto his childe,
What my great Grandfather, and Grandsire got,
My carelesse Father fondly gaue away.
845 Ah, what a shame were this? Looke on the Boy,
And let his manly face, which promiseth
Successefull Fortune steele thy melting heart,
To hold thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him.
King.
Full well hath Clifford plaid the Orator,
850 Inferring arguments of mighty force:
But Clifford tell me, did'st thou neuer heare,
That things ill got, had euer bad successe.
And happy alwayes was it for that Sonne,
Whose Father for his hoording went to hell:
855 Ile leaue my Sonne my Vertuous deeds behinde,
And would my Father had left me no more:
For all the rest is held at such a Rate,
As brings a thousand fold more care to keepe,
Then in possession any iot of pleasure.
860 Ah Cosin Yorke, would thy best Friends did know,
How it doth greeue me that thy head is heere.
Qu.
My Lord cheere vp your spirits, our foes are nye,
And this soft courage makes your Followers faint:
You promist Knighthood to our forward sonne,
865 Vnsheath your sword, and dub him presently.
Edward, kneele downe.
King.
Edward Plantagenet, arise a Knight,
And learne this Lesson; Draw thy Sword in right.
Prin.
My gracious Father, by your Kingly leaue,
870 Ile draw it as Apparant to the Crowne,
And in that quarrell, vse it to the death.
Clif.
Why that is spoken like a toward Prince.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Royall Commanders, be in readinesse,
For with a Band of thirty thousand men,
875 Comes Warwicke backing of the Duke of Yorke,
And in the Townes as they do march along,
Proclaimes him King, and many flye to him,
Darraigne your battell, for they are at hand.
Clif.
I would your Highnesse would depart the field,
880 The Queene hath best successe when you are absent.
Qu.
I good my Lord, and leaue vs to our Fortune.
King.
Why, that's my fortune too, therefore Ile stay.
North.
Be it with resolution then to fight.
Prin.
My Royall Father, cheere these Noble Lords,
885 And hearten those that fight in your defence:
Vnsheath your Sword, good Father: Cry Saint George.
mixed. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, Clarence,
Norfolke, Mountague, and Soldiers.
Norfolke, Mountague, and Soldiers.
Edw.
Now periur'd Henry, wilt thou kneel for grace?
And set thy Diadem vpon my head?
Or bide the mortall Fortune of the field.
Qu.
890 Go rate thy Minions, proud insulting Boy,
Becomes it thee to be thus bold in termes,
Before thy Soueraigne, and thy lawfull King?
Ed.
I am his King, and he should bow his knee:
I was adopted Heire by his consent.
Cla.
895 Since when, his Oath is broke: for as I heare,
You that are King, though he do weare the Crowne,
Haue caus'd him by new Act of Parliament,
To blot out me, and put his owne Sonne in.
Clif.
And reason too,
900 Who should succeede the Father, but the Sonne.
Rich.
Are you there Butcher? O, I cannot speake.
Clif.
I Crooke‑back, here I stand to answer thee,
Or any he, the proudest of thy sort.
Rich.
'Twas you that kill'd yong Rutland, was it not?
Clif.
905 I, and old Yorke, and yet not satisfied.
Rich.
For Gods sake Lords giue signall to the fight.
War.
What say'st thou Henry,
Wilt thou yeeld the Crowne?
Qu.
Why how now long‑tongu'd Warwicke, dare
(you speak?
(you speak?
910 When you and I, met at Saint
Albons last,
Your legges did better seruice then your hands.
War.
Then 'twas my turne to fly, and now 'tis thine:
Clif.
You said so much before, and yet you fled.
War.
'Twas not your valor Clifford droue me thence.
Nor.
915 No, nor your manhood that[.]durst make you stay.
Rich.
Northumberland, I hold thee reuerently,
Breake off the parley, for scarse I can refraine
The execution of my big‑swolne heart
Vpon that Clifford, that cruell Child‑killer.
Clif.
920 I slew thy Father, cal'st thou him a Child?
![[p. 155]](FFimg:axc0511-0.jpg){kind=link}
Rich.
I like a Dastard, and a treacherous Coward,
As thou didd'st kill our tender Brother Rutland,
But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curse the deed.
King.
Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare
me speake.
me speake.
Qu.
925 Defie them then, or els hold close thy lips.
King.
I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue,
I am a King, and priuiledg'd to speake.
Clif.
My Liege, the Wound that bred this meeting here,
Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still.
Rich.
930 Then Executioner vnsheath thy sword:
By him that made vs all, I am resolu'd,
That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue.
Ed.
Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no:
A thousand men haue broke their Fasts to day,
935 That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the Crowne.
War.
If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head,
For Yorke in iustice put's his Armour on.
Pr. Ed.
If that be right, which Warwick saies is right,
There is no vvrong, but euery thing is right.
War.
940 Who euer got thee, there thy Mother stands,
For well I vvot, thou hast thy Mothers tongue.
Qu.
But thou art neyther like thy Sire nor Damme,
But like a foule mishapen Stygmaticke,
Mark'd by the Destinies to be auoided,
945 As venome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull stings.
Rich.
Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,
Whose Father beares the Title of a King,
(As if a Channell should be call'd the Sea)
Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
950 To let thy tongue detect thy base‑borne heart.
Ed.
A wispe of straw were worth a thousand Crowns,
To make this shamelesse Callet know her selfe:
Helen of Greece was fayrer farre then thou,
Although thy Husband may be Menelaus;
955 And ne're was Agamemnons Brother wrong'd
By that false Woman, as this King by thee.
His Father reuel'd in the heart of France,
And tam'd the King, and made the Dolphin stoope:
And had he match'd according to his State,
960 He might haue kept that glory to this day.
But when he tooke a begger to his bed,
And grac'd thy poore Sire with his Bridall day,
Euen then that Sun‑shine brew'd a showre for him,
That washt his Fathers fortunes forth of France,
965 And heap'd sedition on his Crowne at home:
For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride?
Had'st thou bene meeke, our Title still had slept,
And we in pitty of the Gentle King,
Had slipt our Claime, vntill another Age.
Cla.
970 But when we saw, our Sunshine made thy Spring,
And that thy Summer bred vs no increase,
We set the Axe to thy vsurping Roote:
And though the edge hath something hit our selues,
Yet know thou, since we haue begun to strike,
975 Wee'l neuer leaue, till we haue hewne thee downe,
Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods.
Edw.
And in this resolution, I defie thee,
Not willing any longer Conference,
Since thou denied'st the gentle King to speake.
980 Sound Trumpets, let our bloody Colours waue,
And either Victorie, or else a Graue.
Qu.
Stay Edward.
Ed.
No wrangling Woman, wee'l no longer stay,
These words will cost ten thousand liues this day.
Exeunt omnes.
[Act 2, Scene 3]
Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke.
War.
985 Fore‑spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race,
I lay me downe a little while to breath:
For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid,
Haue robb'd my strong knit sinewes of their strength,
And spight of spight, needs must I rest a‑while.
Enter Edward running.
Ed.
990 Smile gentle heauen, or strike vngentle death,
For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded.
War.
How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of
good?
good?
Enter Clarence.
Cla.
Our hap is losse, our hope but sad dispaire,
Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs.
995 What counsaile giue you? whether shall we flye?
Ed.
Bootlesse is flight, they follow vs with Wings,
And weake we are, and cannot shun pursuite.
Enter Richard.
Rich.
Ah Warwicke, why hast yu withdrawn thy selfe?
Thy Brothers blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
1000 Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffords Launce:
And in the very pangs of death, he cryde,
Like to a dismall Clangor heard from farre,
Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge my death.
So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds,
1005 That stain'd their Fetlockes in his smoaking blood,
The Noble Gentleman gaue vp the ghost.
War.
Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:
Ile kill my Horse, because I will not flye:
Why stand we like soft‑hearted women heere,
1010 Wayling our losses, whiles the Foe doth Rage,
And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie
Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors.
Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue,
Ile neuer pawse againe, neuer stand still,
1015 Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,
Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge.
Ed.
Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine,
And in this vow do chaine my soule to thine:
I And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold face,
1020 I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
Thou setter vp, and plucker downe of Kings:
Beseeching thee (if with thy will it stands)
That to my Foes this body must be prey,
Yet that thy brazen gates of heauen may ope,
1025 And giue sweet passage to my sinfull soule.
Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe,
Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth.
Rich.
Brother,
Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,
1030 Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes;
I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo,
That Winter should cut off our Spring‑time so.
War.
Away, away:
Once more sweet Lords farwell.
Cla.
1035 Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes,
And giue them leaue to flye, that will not stay:
And call them Pillars that will stand to vs:
And if we thriue, promise them such rewards
As Victors weare at the Olympian Games.
1040 This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,
For yet is hope of Life and Victory:
p2
Fore
[p. 156]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 156]](FFimg:axc0512-0.jpg){kind=link}
Foreslow no longer, make we hence amaine.
Exeunt
[Act 2, Scene 4]
Excursions. Enter Richard and Clifford.
Rich.
Now Clifford, I haue singled thee alone,
Suppose this arme is for the Duke of Yorke,
1045 And this for Rutland, both bound to reuenge,
Wer't thou inuironed with a Brazen wall.
Clif,
Now Richard, I am with thee heere alone,
This is the hand that stabb'd thy Father Yorke,
And this the hand, that slew thy Brother Rutland,
1050 And here's the heart, that triumphs in their death,
And cheeres these hands, that slew thy Sire and Brother,
To execute the like vpon thy selfe,
And so haue at thee.
They Fight, Warwicke comes, Clifford flies.
Rich.
Nay Warwicke, single out some other Chace,
1055 For I my selfe will hunt this Wolfe to death.
Exeunt.
[Act 2, Scene 5]
Alarum. Enter King Henry alone.
Hen.
This battell fares like to the mornings Warre,
When dying clouds contend, with growing light,
What time the Shepheard blowing of his nailes,
Can neither call it perfect day, nor night.
1060 Now swayes it this way, like a Mighty Sea,
Forc'd by the Tide, to combat with the Winde:
Now swayes it that way, like the selfe‑same Sea,
Forc'd to retyre by furie of the Winde.
Sometime, the Flood preuailes; and than the Winde:
1065 Now, one the better: then, another best;
Both tugging to be Victors, brest to brest:
Yet neither Conqueror, nor Conquered.
So is the equall poise of this fell Warre.
Heere on this Mole‑hill will I sit me downe,
1070 To whom God will, there be the Victorie:
For Margaret my Queene, and Clifford too
Haue chid me from the Battell: Swearing both,
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead, if Gods good will were so;
1075 For what is in this world, but Greefe and Woe.
Oh God! me thinkes it were a happy life,
To be no better then a homely Swaine,
To sit vpon a hill, as I do now,
To carue out Dialls queintly, point by point,
1080 Thereby to see the Minutes how they runne:
How many makes the Houre full compleate,
How many Houres brings about the Day,
How many Dayes will finish vp the Yeare,
How many Yeares, a Mortall man may liue.
1085 When this is knowne, then to diuide the Times:
So many Houres, must I tend my Flocke;:
So many Houres, must I take my Rest:
So many Houres, must I Contemplate:
So many Houres, must I Sport my selfe:
1090 So many Dayes, my Ewes haue bene with yong:
So many weekes, ere the poore Fooles will Eane:
So many yeares, ere I shall sheere the Fleece:
So Minutes, Houres, Dayes, Monthes, and Yeares,
Past ouer to the end they were created,
1095 Would bring white haires, vnto a Quiet graue.
Ah! what a life were this? How sweet? how louely?
Giues not the Hawthorne bush a sweeter shade
To Shepheards, looking on their silly Sheepe,
Then doth a rich Imbroider'd Canopie
1100 To Kings, that feare their Subiects treacherie?
Oh yes, it doth; a thousand fold it doth.
And to conclude, the Shepherds homely Curds,
His cold thinne drinke out of his Leather Bottle,
His wonted sleepe, vnder a fresh trees shade,
1105 All which secure, and sweetly he enioyes,
Is farre beyond a Princes Delicates:
His Viands sparkling in a Golden Cup,
His bodie couched in a curious bed,
When Care, Mistrust, and Treason waits on him.
Alarum. Enter a Sonne that hath killed his Father, at
one doore: and a Father that hath killed his Sonne at ano
ther doore.
one doore: and a Father that hath killed his Sonne at ano
ther doore.
Son.
1110 Ill blowes the winde that profits no body,
This man whom hand to hand I slew in fight,
May be possessed with some store of Crownes,
And I that (haply) take them from him now,
May yet (ere night) yeeld both my Life and them
1115 To some man else, as this dead man doth me.
Who's this? Oh God! It is my Fathers face,
Whom in this Conflict, I (vnwares) have kill'd:
Oh heauy times! begetting such Euents.
From London, by the King was I prest forth,
1120 My Father being the Earle of Warwickes man,
Came on the part of Yorke, prest by his Master;
And I, who at his hands receiu'd my life,
Haue by my hands, of Life bereaued him.
Pardon me God, I knew not what I did:
1125 And pardon Father, for I knew not thee.
My Teares shall wipe away these bloody markes:
And no more words, till they haue flow'd their fill.
King.
O pitteous spectacle! O bloody Times!
Whiles Lyons Warre, and battaile for their Dennes,
1130 Poore harmlesse Lambes abide their enmity.
Weepe wretched man: Ile ayde thee Teare for Teare,
And let our hearts and eyes, like Ciuill Warre,
Be blinde with teares, and break ore‑charged with griefe
Enter Father, bearing of his Sonne.
Fa.
Thou that so stoutly hath resisted me,
1135 Giue me thy Gold, if thou hast any Gold:
For I haue bought it with an hundred blowes.
But let me see: Is this our Foe‑mans face?
Ah, no, no, no, it is mine onely Sonne.,
Ah Boy, if any life be left in thee,
1140 Throw vp thine eye: see, see, what showres arise,
Blowne with the windie Tempest of my heart,
Vpon thy wounds, that killes mine Eye, and Heart.
O pitty God, this miserable Age!
What Stragems? how fell? how Butcherly?
1145 Erreoneous, mutinous, and vnnaturall,
This deadly quarrell daily doth beget?
O Boy! thy Father gaue thee life too soone,
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.
King.
Wo aboue wo: greefe, more them common greefe
1150 O that my death would stay these ruthfull deeds:
O pitty, pitty, gentle heauen pitty:
The Red Rose and the White are on his face,
The fatall Colours of our striuing Houses:
The one, his purple Blood right well resembles,
1155 The other his pale Cheekes (me thinkes) presenteth:
Wither one Rose, and let the other flourish:
If you contend, a thousand liues must wither.
Son.
How will my Mother, for a Fathers death
Take on with me, and ne're be satisfi'd?
Fa.
1160 How will my Wife, for slaughter of my Sonne,
Shed seas of Teares, and ne're be satisfi'd?
King.
How will the Country, for these woful chances,
Mis‑thinke
[p. 157]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 157]](FFimg:axc0513-0.jpg){kind=link}
Mis‑thinke the King, and not be satisfied?
Son.
Was euer sonne, so rew'd a Fathers death?
Fath.
1165 Was euer Father so bemoan'd his Sonne?
Hen.
Was euer King so greeu'd for Subiects woe?
Much is your sorrow; Mine, ten times so much.
Son.
Ile beare thee hence, where I may weepe my fill.
Fath.
These armes of mine shall be thy winding sheet:
1170 My heart (sweet Boy) shall be thy Sepulcher,
For from my heart, thine Image ne're shall go.
My sighing brest, shall be thy Funerall bell;
And so obsequious will thy Father be,
Men for the losse of thee, hauing no more,
1175 As Priam was for all his Valiant Sonnes,
Ile beare thee hence, and let them fight that will,
For I haue murthered where I should not kill.
Exit
Hen.
Sad‑hearted‑men, much ouergone with Care;
Heere sits a King, more wofull then you are.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter the Queen, the
Prince, and Exeter.
Prince, and Exeter.
Prin.
1180 Fly Father, flye: for all your Friends are fled.
And Warwicke rages like a chafed Bull:
Away, for death doth hold vs in pursuite.
Qu.
Mount you my Lord, towards Barwicke post a
maine:
maine:
Edward and Richard like a brace of Grey‑hounds,
1185 Hauing the fearfull flying Hare in sight,
With fiery eyes, sparkling for very wrath,
And bloody steele graspt in their yrefull hands
Are at our backes, and therefore hence amaine.
Exet.
Away: for vengeance comes along with them.
1190 Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed,
Or else come after, Ile away before.
Hen.
Nay take me with thee, good sweet Exeter:
Not that I feare to stay, but loue to go
Whether the Queene intends. Forward, away.
Exeunt
[Act 2, Scene 6]
A lowd alarum. Enter Clifford Wounded.
Clif.
1195 Heare burnes my Candle out; I, heere it dies,
Which whiles it lasted, gaue King Henry light.
O Lancaster! I feare thy ouerthrow,
More then my Bodies parting with my Soule:
My Loue and Feare, glew'd many Friends to thee,
1200 And now I fall. Thy tough Commixtures melts,
Impairing Henry, strength'ning misproud Yorke;
And whether flye the Gnats, but to the Sunne?
And who shines now, but Henries Enemies?
O Phœbus! had'st thou neuer giuen consent,
1205 That Phaeton should checke thy fiery Steeds,
Thy burning Carre neuer had scorch'd the earth.
And Henry, had'st thou sway'd as Kings should do,
Or as thy Father, and his Father did,
Giuing no ground vnto the house of Yorke,
1210 They neuer then had sprung like Sommer Flyes:
I, and ten thousand in this lucklesse Realme,
Hed left no mourning Widdowes for our death,
And thou this day, had'st kept thy Chaire in peace.
For what doth cherrish Weeds, but gentle ayre?
1215 And what makes Robbers bold, but too much lenity?
Bootlesse are Plaints, and Curelesse are my Wounds:
No way to flye, nor strength to hold out flight:
The Foe is mercilesse, and will not pitty:
For at their hands I haue deseru'd no pitty.
1220 The ayre hath got into my deadly Wounds,
And much effule of blood, doth make me faint:
Come Yorke, and Richard, Warwicke, and the rest,
I stab'd your Fathers bosomes; Split my brest.
Alarum & Retreat. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, and
Soldiers, Montague, & Clarence.
Soldiers, Montague, & Clarence.
Ed.
Now breath we Lords, good fortune bids vs pause,
1225 And smooth the frownes of War, with peacefull lookes:
Some Troopes pursue the bloody‑minded Queene,
That led calme Henry, though he were a King,
As doth a Saile, fill'd with a fretting Gust
Command an Argosie to stemme the Waues.
1230 But thinke you (Lords) that Clifford fled with them?
War.
No, 'tis impossible he should escape:
(For though before his face I speake the words)
Your Brother Richard markt him for the Graue,
And wheresoere he is, hee's surely dead.
Clifford grones
Rich.
1235 Whose soule is that which takes hir heauy leaue?
A deadly grone, like life and deaths departing.
See who it is.
Ed.
And now the Battailes ended,
If Friend or Foe, let him be gently vsed.
Rich.
1240 Reuoke that doome of mercy, for 'tis Clifford,
Who not contented that he lopp'd the Branch
In hewing Rutland, when his leaues put forth,
But set his murth'ring knife vnto the Roote,
From whence that tender spray did sweetly spring,
1245 I meane our Princely Father, Duke of Yorke.
War.
From off the gates of Yorke, fetch down the head,
Your Fathers head, which Ciifford placed there:
In stead whereof, let this supply the roome,
Measure for measure, must be answered.
Ed.
1250 Bring forth that fatall Schreechowle to our house,
That nothing sung but death, to vs and ours:
Now death shall stop his dismall threatning sound,
And his ill‑boading tongue, no more shall speake.
War.
I thinke is vnderstanding is bereft:
1255 Speake Clifford, dost thou know who speakes to thee?
Darke cloudy death ore‑shades his beames of life,
And he nor sees, nor heares vs, what we say.
Rich.
O would he did, and so (perhaps) he doth,
'Tis but his policy to counterfet,
1260 Because he would auoid such bitter taunts
Which in the time of death he gaue our Father.
Cla
If so thou think'st,
Vex him with eager Words.
Rich.
Clifford, aske mercy, and obtaine no grace.
Ed.
1265 Clifford, repent in bootlesse penitence.
War.
Clifford, deuise excuses for thy faults.
Cla.
While we deuise fell Tortures for thy faults.
Rich.
Thou didd'st loue Yorke, and I am son to Yorke.
Edw.
Thou pittied'st Rutland, I will pitty thee.
Cla.
1270 Where's Captaine Margaret, to fence you now?
War.
They mocke thee Clifford,
Sweare as thou was't wont.
Ric.
What, not an Oath? Nay then the world go's hard
When Clifford cannot spare his Friends an oath:
1275 I know by that he's dead, and by my Soule,
If this right hand would buy two houres life,
That I (in all despight) might rayle at him,
This hand should chop it off: & with the issuing Blood
Stifle the Villaine, whose vnstanched thirst
1280 Yorke, and yong Rutland could not satisfie
War.
I, but he's dead. Of with the Traitors head,
And reare it in the place your Fathers stands.
And now to London with Triumphant march,
p3
There
[p. 158]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 158]](FFimg:axc0514-0.jpg){kind=link}
There to be crowned Englands Royall King:
1285 From whence, shall Warwicke cut the Sea to France,
And aske the Ladie Bona for thy Queene:
So shalt thou sinow both these Lands together,
And hauing France thy Friend, thou shalt not dread
The scattred Foe, that hopes to rise againe:
1290 For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt,
Yet looke to haue them buz to offend thine eares:
First, will I see the Coronation,
And then to Britanny Ile crosse the Sea,
To effect this marriage, so it please my Lord.
Ed.
1295 Euen as thou wilt sweet Warwicke, let it bee:
For in thy shoulder do I builde my Seate;
And neuer will I vndertake the thing
Wherein thy counsaile and consent is wanting:
Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloucester,
1300 And George of Clarence; Warwicke as our Selfe,
Shall do, and vndo as him pleaseth best.
Rich.
Let me be Duke of Clarence, George of Gloster,
For Glosters Dukedome is too ominous.
War.
Tut, that's a foolish obseruation:
1305 Richard, be Duke of Gloster: Now to London,
To see these Honors in possession.
Exeunt
[Act 3, Scene 1]
Enter Sinklo, and Humfrey, with Crosse‑bowes
in their hands.
in their hands.
Sink.
Vnder this thicke growne brake, wee'l shrowd
(our selues:
(our selues:
For through this Laund anon the Deere will come,
And in this couert will we make our Stand,
1310 Culling the principall of all the Deere.
Hum.
Ile stay aboue the hill, so both may shoot.
Sink.
That cannot be, the noise of thy Crosse‑bow
Will scarre the Heard, and so my shoot is lost:
Heere stand we both, and ayme we at the best:
1315 And for the time shall not seeme tedious,
Ile tell thee what befell me on a day,
In this selfe‑place, where now we meane to stand.
Sink.
Heere comes a man, let's stay till he be past.
Enter the King with a Prayer booke.
Hen.
From Scotland am I stolne euen of pure loue,
1320 To greet mine owne Land with my wishfull sight:
No Harry, Harry, 'tis no Land of thine,
Thy place is fill'd, thy Scepter wrung from thee,
Thy Balme washt off, wherewith thou was Annointed:
No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,
1325 No humble suters prease to speake for right:
No, not a man comes for redresse of thee:
For how can I helpe them, and not my selfe?
Sink.
I, heere's a Deere, whose skin's a Keepers Fee:
This is the quondam King; Let's seize vpon him.
Hen.
1330 Let me embrace the sower Aduersaries,
For Wise men say, it is the wisest course.
Hum.
Why linger we? Let vs lay hands vpon him.
Sink.
Forbeare a‑while, wee'l heare a little more.
Hen.
My Queene and Son are gone to France for aid:
1335 And (as I heare) the great Commanding Warwicke
I: thither gone, to craue the French Kings Sister
To wife for Edward. If this newes be true,
Poore Queene, and Sonne, your labour is but lost:
For Warwicke is a subtle Orator:
1340 And Lewis a Prince soone wonne with mouing words:
By this account then, Margaret may winne him,
For she's a woman to be pittied much:
Her sighes will make a batt'ry in his brest,
Her teares will pierce into a Marble heart:
1345 The Tyger will be milde, whiles she doth mourne;
And Nero will be tainted with remorse,
To heare and see her plaints, her Brinish Teares.
I, but shee's come to begge, Warwicke to giue:
Shee on his left side, crauing ayde for Henrie;
1350 He on his right, asking a wife for Edward.
Shee Weepes, and sayes, her Henry is depos'd:
He Smiles, and sayes, his Edward is instaul'd;
That she (poore Wretch) for greefe can speake no more:
Whiles Warwicke tels his Title, smooths the Wrong,
1355 Inferreth arguments of mighty strength,
And in conclusion winnes the King from her,
With promise of his Sister, and what else,
To strengthen and support King Edwards place.
O Margaret, thus 'twill be, and thou (poore soule)
1360 Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorne.
Hum.
Say, what art thou talk'st of Kings & Queens?
King.
More then I seeme, and lesse then I was born to:
A man at least, for lesse I should not be:
And men may talke of Kings, and why not I?
Hum.
1365 I, but thou talk'st, as if thou wer't a King.
King.
Why so I am (in Minde) and that's enough.
Hum.
But if thou be a King, where is thy Crowne?
King.
My Crowne is in my heart, not on my head:
Not deck'd with Diamonds, and Indian stones:
1370 Nor to be seene: my Crowne, is call'd Content,
A Crowne it is, that sildome Kings enjoy.
Hum.
Well, if you be a King crown'd with Content,
Your Crowne Content, and you, must be contented
To go along with vs. For (as we thinke)
1375 You are the king King Edward hath depos'd:
And we his subiects, sworne in all Allegeance,
Will apprehend you, as his Enemie.
King.
But did you neuer sweare, and breake an Oath.
Hum.
No, neuer such an Oath, nor will not now.
King.
1380 Where did you dwell when I was King of England?
Hum.
Heere in this Country, where we now remaine.
King.
I was annointed King at nine monthes old,
My Father, and my Grandfather were Kings:
And you were sworne true Subiects vnto me:
1385 And tell me then, haue you not broke your Oathes?
Sin.
No, for we were Subiects, but while you wer king
King.
Why? Am I dead? Do I not breath a Man?
Ah simple men, you know not what you sweare:
Looke, as I blow this Feather from my Face,
1390 And as the Ayre blowes it to me againe,
Obeying with my winde when I do blow,
And yeelding to another, when it blowes,
Commanded alwayes by the greater gust:
Such is the lightnesse of you, common men.
1395 But do not breake your Oathes, for of that sinne,
My milde intreatie shall not make you guiltie.
Go where you will, the king shall be commanded,
And be you kings, command, and Ile obey.
Sinklo.
We are true Subiects to the king,
1400 King Edward.
King.
So would you be againe to Henrie,
If he were seated as king Edward is.
Sinklo.
We charge you in Gods name & the Kings,
To go with vs vnto the Officers.
King.
1405 In Gods name lead, your Kings name be obeyd,
And what God will, that let your King performe,
And what he will, I humbly yeeld vnto.
Exeunt
[Act 3, Scene 2]
Enter K. Edward, Gloster, Clarence, Lady Gray.
King.
Brother of Gloster, at Saint Albons field
This
[p. 159]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 159]](FFimg:axc0515-0.jpg){kind=link}
This Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slaine,
1410 His Land then seiz'd on by the Conqueror,
Her suit is now, to repossesse those Lands,
Which wee in Iustice cannot well deny,
Because in Quarrell of the House of Yorke,
The worthy Gentleman did lose his Life.
Rich.
1415 Your Highnesse shall doe well to graunt her suit:
It were dishonor to deny it her.
King.
It were no lesse, but yet Ile make a pawse.
Rich.
Yea, is it so:
I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt,
1420 Before the King will graunt her humble suit.
Clarence.
Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes
the winde?
the winde?
Rich.
Silence.
King.
Widow, we will consider of your suit,
And come some other time to know our minde.
Wid.
1425 Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay:
May it please your Highnesse to resolue me now,
And what your pleasure is, shall satisfie me.
Rich.
I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands,
And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you:
1430 Fight closer, or good faith you'le catch a Blow.
Clarence.
I feare her not, vnlesse she chance to fall.
Rich.
God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages.
King.
How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell
me.
me.
Clarence.
I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her.
Rich.
1435 Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two.
Wid.
Three, my most gracious Lord.
Rich.
You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him.
King.
'Twere pittie they should lose their Fathers
Lands.
Lands.
Wid.
Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then.
King.
1440 Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes
wit.
wit.
Rich.
I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue,
Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch.
King.
Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your
Children?
Children?
Wid.
I, full as dearely as I loue my selfe.
King.
1445 And would you not doe much to doe them
good?
good?
Wid.
To doe them good, I would sustayne some
harme.
harme.
King.
Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them
good.
good.
Wid.
Therefore I came vnto your Maiestie.
King.
Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got.
Wid.
1450 So shall you bind me to your Highnesse seruice.
King.
What seruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue them?
Wid.
What you command, that rests in me to doe.
King.
But you will take exceptions to my Boone.
Wid.
No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it.
King.
1455 I, but thou canst doe what I meane to aske.
Wid.
Why then I will doe what your Grace com
mands.
mands.
Rich.
Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the
Marble.
Marble.
Clar.
As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt.
Wid.
Why stoppes my Lord? shall I not heare my
Taske?
Taske?
King.
1460 An easie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King.
Wid.
That's soone perform'd, because I am a Subiect.
King.
Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue
thee.
thee.
Wid.
I take my leaue with many thousand thankes.
Rich.
The Match is made, shee seales it with a Cursie.
King.
1465 But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane.
Wid.
The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege.
King.
I, but I feare me in another sence.
What Loue, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?
Wid.
My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,
1470 That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts.
King.
No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue.
Wid.
Why then you meane not, as I thought you did.
King.
But now you partly may perceiue my minde.
Wid.
My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue
1475 Your Highnesse aymes at, if I ayme aright.
King.
To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee.
Wid.
To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prison.
King.
Why then thou shalt not haue thy Husbands
Lands.
Lands.
Wid.
Why then mine Honestie shall be my Dower,
1480 For by that losse, I will not purchase them.
King.
Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily.
Wid.
Herein your Highnesse wrongs both them & me:
But mightie Lord, this merry inclination
Accords not with the sadnesse of my suit:
1485 Please you dismisse me, eyther with I, or no.
King.
I, if thou wilt say I to my request:
No, if thou do'st say No to my demand.
Wid.
Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end.
Rich.
The Widow likes him not, shee knits her
Browes.
Browes.
Clarence.
1490 Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christen
dome.
dome.
King.
Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty,
Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable,
All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie,
One way, or other, shee is for a King,
1495 And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene.
Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene?
Wid.
'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord:
I am a subiect fit to ieast withall,
But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne.
King.
1500 Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee,
I speake no more then what my Soule intends,
And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue.
Wid.
And that is more then I will yeeld vnto:
I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,
1505 And yet too good to be your Concubine.
King.
You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene.
Wid.
'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call
you Father.
you Father.
King.
No more, then when my Daughters
Call thee Mother.
1510 Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children,
And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,
Haue other‑some. Why, 'tis a happy thing,
To be the Father vnto many Sonnes:
Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene.
Rich.
1515 The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift.
Clarence.
When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift.
King.
Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue
had.
had.
Rich.
The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very
sad.
sad.
King.
You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie
her.
her.
Clarence.
1520 To who, my Lord?
King.
Why Clarence, to my selfe.
![[p. 160]](FFimg:axc0516-0.jpg){kind=link}
Rich.
That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least.
Clarence.
That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts.
Rich.
By so much is the Wonder in extremes.
King.
1525 Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both,
He[.] suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands.
Enter a Noble man.
Nob.
My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,
And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate.
King.
See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower:
1530 And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him,
To question of his apprehension.
Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.
Exeunt.
Manet Richard.
Rich.
I, Edward will vse Women honourably:
Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
1535 That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring,
To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for:
And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me,
The lustfull Edwards Title buryed,
Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward,
1540 And all the vnlook'd‑for Issue of their Bodies,
To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe:
A cold premeditation for my purpose.
Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie,
Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie,
1545 And spyes a farre‑off shore, where hee would tread,
Wishing his foot were equall with his eye,
And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence,
Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way:
So doe I wish the Crowne, being so farre off,
1550 And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it,
And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off,
Flattering me with impossibilities:
My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're‑weenes too much,
Vnlesse my Hand and Strength could equall them.
1555 Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard:
What other Pleasure can the World affoord?
Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe,
And decke my Body in gay Ornaments,
And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes.
1560 Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely,
Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes.
Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe:
And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes,
Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe,
1565 To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub,
To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back,
Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body;
To shape my Legges of an vnequall size,
To dis‑proportion me in euery part:
1570 Like to a Chaos, or an vn‑lick'd Beare‑whelpe,
That carryes no impression like the Damme.
And am I then a man to be belou'd?
Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought.
Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me,
1575 But to command, to check, to o're‑beare such,
As are of better Person then my selfe:
Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne,
And whiles I liue, t'account this World but Hell,
Vntill my mis‑shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head,
1580 Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne.
And yet I know not how to get the Crowne,
For many Liues stand betweene me and home:
And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood,
That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes,
1585 Seeking a way, and straying from the way,
Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre,
But toyling desperately to finde it out,
Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne:
And from that torment I will free my selfe,
1590 Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe.
Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile,
And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart,
And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares,
And frame my Face to all occasions.
1595 Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall,
Ile slay more gazers then the Basiliske,
Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor,
Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could,
And like a Synon, take another Troy.
1600 I can adde Colours to the Camelion,
Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages,
And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole.
Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne?
Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe.
Exit.
[Act 3, Scene 3]
Flourish.
Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his
Admirall, call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward,
Queene Margaret, and the Earle of Oxford.
Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.
Admirall, call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward,
Queene Margaret, and the Earle of Oxford.
Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.
Lewis.
1605 Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret,
Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State,
And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit.
Marg.
No, mightie King of France: now Margaret
Must strike her sayle, and learne a while to serue,
1610 Where Kings command. I was (I must confesse)
Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes:
But now mischance hath trod my Title downe,
And with dis‑honor layd me on the ground,
Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune,
1615 And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe.
Lewis.
Why say, faire Queene, whence springs this
deepe despaire?
deepe despaire?
Marg.
From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares,
And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares.
Lewis.
What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe,
1620 And sit thee by our side.
Seats her by him.
Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake,
But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph,
Ouer all mischance.
Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe,
1625 It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe.
Marg.
Those gracious words
Reuiue my drooping thoughts,
And giue my tongue‑ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake.
Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis,
1630 That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue,
Is, of a King, become a banisht man,
And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne;
While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke,
Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat
1635 Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King.
This is the cause that I, poore Margaret,
With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire,
Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde:
And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done,
1640 Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe:
Our
[p. 161]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 161]](FFimg:axc0517-0.jpg){kind=link}
Our People, and our Peeres, are both mis‑led,
Our Treasure seiz'd, our Souldiors put to flight,
And (as thou seest) our selues in heauie plight.
Lewis.
Renowned Queene,
1645 With patience calme the Storme,
While we bethinke a meanes to breake it off.
Marg.
The more wee stay, the stronger growes our
Foe.
Foe.
Lewis.
The more I stay, the more Ile succour thee.
Marg.
O, but impatience waiteth on true sorrow.
1650 And see where comes the breeder of my sorrow.
Enter Warwicke.
Lewis.
What's hee approacheth boldly to our pre
sence?
sence?
Marg.
Our Earle of Warwicke, Edwards greatest
Friend.
Friend.
Lewis.
Welcome braue Warwicke, what brings thee
to France?
to France?
Hee descends. Shee ariseth.
Marg.
I now begins a second Storme to rise,
1655 For this is hee that moues both Winde and Tyde.
Warw.
From worthy Edward, King of Albion,
My Lord and Soueraigne, and thy vowed Friend,
I come (in Kindnesse, and vnfayned Loue)
First, to doe greetings to thy Royall Person,
1660 And then to craue a League of Amitie:
And lastly, to confirme that Amitie
With Nuptiall Knot, if thou vouchsafe to graunt
That vertuous Lady Bona, thy faire Sister,
To Englands King, in lawfull Marriage.
Marg.
1665 If that goe forward, Henries hope is done.
Warw.
And gracious Madame,
Speaking to Bona.
In our Kings behalfe,
I am commanded, with your leaue and fauor,
Humbly to kisse your Hand, and with my Tongue
1670 To tell the passion of my Soueraignes Heart;
Where Fame, late entring at his heedfull Eares,
Hath plac'd thy Beauties Image, and thy Vertue.
Marg.
King Lewis, and Lady Bona, heare me speake,
Before you answer Warwicke. His demand
1675 Springs not from Edwards well‑meant honest Loue,
But from Deceit, bred by Necessitie:
For how can Tyrants safely gouerne home,
Vnlesse abroad they purchase great allyance?
To proue him Tyrant, this reason may suffice,
1680 That Henry liueth still: but were hee dead,
Yet here Prince Edward stands, King Henries Sonne.
Looke therefore Lewis, that by this League and Mariage
Thou draw not on thy Danger, and Dis‑honor:
For though Vsurpers sway the rule a while,
1685 Yet Heau'ns are iust, and Time suppresseth Wrongs.
Warw.
Iniurious Margaret.
Edw.
And why not Queene?
Warw.
Because thy Father Henry did vsurpe,
And thou no more art Prince, then shee is Queene.
Oxf.
1690 Then Warwicke disanulls great Iohn of Gaunt,
Which did subdue the greatest part of Spaine;
And after Iohn of Gaunt, Henry the Fourth,
Whose Wisdome was a Mirror to the wisest:
And after that wise Prince, Henry the Fift,
1695 Who by his Prowesse conquered all France:
From these, our Henry lineally descends.
Warw.
Oxford, how haps it in this smooth discourse,
You told not, how Henry the Sixt hath lost
All that, which Henry the Fift had gotten:
1700 Me thinkes these Peeres of France should smile at that.
But for the rest: you tell a Pedigree
Of threescore and two yeeres, a silly time
To make prescription for a Kingdomes worth.
Oxf.
Why Warwicke, canst thou speak against thy Liege,
1705 Whom thou obeyd'st thirtie and six yeeres,
And not bewray thy Treason with a Blush?
Warw.
Can Oxford, that did euer sence the right,
Now buckler Falsehood with a Pedigree?
For shame leaue Henry, and call Edward King.
Oxf.
1710 Call him my King, by whose iniurious doome
My elder Brother, the Lord sAubrey Vere
Was done to death? and more then so, my Father,
Euen in the downe‑fall of his mellow'd yeeres,
When Nature brought him to the doore of Death?
1715 No Warwicke, no: while Life vpholds this Arme,
This Arme vpholds the House of Lancaster.
Warw.
And I the House of Yorke.
Lewis.
Queene Margaret, Prince Edward, and Oxford,
Vouchsafe at our request, to stand aside,
1720 While I vse further conference with Warwicke.
They stand aloofe.
Marg.
Heauens graunt, that Warwickes wordes be
witch him not.
witch him not.
Lewis.
Now Warwicke, tell me euen vpon thy conscience
Is Edward your true King? for I were loth
To linke with him, that were not lawfull chosen.
Warw.
1725 Thereon I pawne my Credit, and mine Ho
nor.
nor.
Lewis.
But is hee gracious in the Peoples eye?
Warw.
The more, that Henry was vnfortunate.
Lewis.
Then further: all dissembling set aside,
Tell me for truth, the measure of his Loue
1730 Vnto our Sister Bona.
War.
Such it seemes,
As may beseeme a Monarch like himselfe.
My selfe haue often heard him say, and sweare,
That this his Loue was an externall Plant,
1735 Whereof the Root was fixt in Vertues ground,
The Leaues and Fruit maintain'd with Beauties Sunne,
Exempt from Enuy, but not from Disdaine,
Vnlesse the Lady Bona quit his paine.
Lewis.
Now Sister, let vs heare your firme resolue.
Bona.
1740 Your graunt, or your denyall, shall be mine.
Yet I confesse, that often ere this day,
Speaks to War.
When I haue heard your Kings desert recounted,
Mine eare hath tempted iudgement to desire.
Lewis.
Then Warwicke, thus:
1745 Our Sister shall be Edwards.
And now forthwith shall Articles be drawne,
Touching the Ioynture that your King must make,
Which with her Dowrie shall be counter‑poys'd:
Draw neere, Queene Margaret, and be a witnesse,
1750 That Bona shall be Wife to the English King.
Pr. Edw.
To Edward, but not to the English King.
Marg.
Deceitfull Warwicke, it was thy deuice,
By this alliance to make void my suit:
Before thy comming, Lewis was Henries friend.
Lewis.
1755 And still is friend to him, and Margaret.
But if your Title to the Crowne be weake,
As may appeare by Edwards good successe;
Then 'tis but reason, that I be releas'd
From giuing ayde, which late I promised.
1760 Yet shall you haue all kindnesse at my hand,
That your Estate requires, and mine can yeeld.
Warw.
Henry now liues in Scotland, at his ease;
Where
[p. 162]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 162]](FFimg:axc0518-0.jpg){kind=link}
Where hauing nothing, nothing can he lose.
And as for you your selfe (our quondam Queene)
1765 You haue a Father able to maintaine you,
And better 'twere, you troubled him, then France.
Mar.
Peace impudent, and shamelesse Warwicke,
Proud setter vp, and puller downe of Kings,
I will not hence, till with my Talke and Teares
1770 (Both full of Truth) I make King Lewis behold
Thy slye conueyance, and thy Lords false loue,
Post blowing a horne Within.
For both of you are Birds of selfe‑same Feather.
Lewis.
Warwicke, this is some poste to vs, or thee.
Enter the Poste.
Post.
My Lord Ambassador,
1775 These Letters are for you.
Speakes to Warwick,
Sent from your Brother Marquesse Montague.
These from our King, vnto your Maiesty.
To Lewis.
And Madam, these for you:
To Margaret
From whom, I know not.
They all reade their Letters.
Oxf.
1780 I like it well, that our faire Queene and Mistris
Smiles at her newes, while Warwicke frownes at his.
Prince Ed.
1782Nay marke how Lewis stampes as he were [l. 1783] I netled. I hope, all's for the best.
Lew.
Warwicke, what are thy Newes?
1785 And yours, faire Queene.
Mar.
Mine such, as fill my heart with vnhop'd ioyes.
War.
Mine full of sorrow, and hearts discontent.
Lew.
What? has your King married the Lady Grey?
And now to sooth your Forgery, and his,
1790 Sends me a Paper to perswade me Patience?
Is this th'Alliance that he seekes with France?
Dare he presume to scorne vs in this manner?
Mar.
I told your Maiesty as much before:
This proueth Edwards Loue, and Warwickes honesty.
War.
1795 King Lewis, I heere protest in sight of heauen,
And by the hope I haue of heauenly blisse,
That I am cleere from this misdeed of Edwards;
No more my King, for he dishonors me,
But most himselfe, if he could see his shame.
1800 Did I forget, that by the House of Yorke
My Father came vntimely to his death?
Did I let passe th'abuse done to my Neece?
Did I impale him with the Regall Crowne?
Did I put Henry from his Natiue Right?
1805 And am I guerdon'd at the last, with Shame?
Shame on himselfe, for my Desert is Honor.
And to repaire my Honor lost for him,
I heere renounce him, and returne to Henry.
My Noble Queene, let former grudges passe,
1810 And henceforth, I am thy true Seruitour:
I will reuenge his wrong to Lady Bona,
And replant Henry in his former state.
Mar.
Warwicke,
These words haue turn'd my Hate, to Loue,
1815 And I forgiue, and quite forget old faults,
And ioy that thou becom'st King Henries Friend.
War.
So much his Friend, I, his vnfained Friend,
That if King Lewis vouchsafe to furnish vs
With some few Bands of chosen Soldiours,
1820 Ile vndertake to Land them on our Coast,
And force the Tyrant from his seat by Warre.
'Tis not his new‑made Bride shall succour him.
And as for Clarence, as my Letters tell me,
Hee's very likely now to fall from him,
1825 For matching more for wanton Lust, then Honor,
Or then for strength and safety of our Country.
Bona.
Deere Brother, how shall Bona be reueng'd,
But by thy helpe to this distressed Queene?
Mar.
Renowned Prince, how shall Poore Henry liue,
1830 Vnlesse thou rescue him from foule dispaire?
Bona.
My quarrel, and this English Queens, are one.
War.
And mine faire Lady Bona, ioynes with yours.
Lew.
And mine, with hers, and thine, and Margarets.
Therefore, at last, I firmely am resolu'd
1835 You shall haue ayde.
Mar.
Let me giue humble thankes for all, at once.
Lew.
Then Englands Messenger, returne in Poste,
And tell false Edward, thy supposed King,
That Lewis of France, is sending ouer Maskers
1840 To reuell it with him, and his new Bride.
Thou seest what's past, go feare thy King withall.
Bona.
Tell him, in hope hee'l proue a widower shortly,
I weare the Willow Garland for his sake.
Mar.
Tell him, my mourning weeds are layde aside,
1845 And I am ready to put Armor on.
War.
Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile vn‑Crowne him, er't be long.
There's thy reward, be gone.
Exit Post.
Lew.
But Warwicke,
1850 Thou and Oxford, with fiue thousand men
Shall crosse the Seas, and bid false Edward battaile:
And as occasion serues, this Noble Queen
And Prince, shall follow with a fresh Supply.
Yet ere thou go, but answer me one doubt:
1855 What Pledge haue we of thy firme Loyalty?
War.
This shall assure my constant Loyalty,
That if our Queene, and this young Prince agree,
Ile ioyne mine eldest daughter, and my Ioy,
To him forthwith, in holy Wedlocke bands.
Mar.
1860 Yes, I agree, and thanke you for your Motion.
Sonne Edward, she is Faire and Vertuous,
Therefore delay not, giue thy hand to Warwicke,
And with thy hand, thy faith irreuocable,
That onely Warwickes daughter shall be thine.
Prin. Ed.
1865 Yes, I accept her, for she well deserues it,
And heere to pledge my Vow, I giue my hand.
He giues his hand to Warw.
Lew.
Why stay we now? These soldiers shalbe leuied,
And thou Lord Bourbon, our High Admirall
Shall waft them ouer with our Royall Fleete.
1870 I long till Edward fall by Warres mischance,
For mocking Marriage with a Dame of France.
Exeunt. Manet Warwicke.
War.
I came from Edward as Ambassador,
But I returne his sworne and mortall Foe:
Matter of Marriage was the charge he gaue me,
1875 But dreadfull Warre shall answer his demand.
Had he none else to make a stale but me?
Then none but I, shall turne his Iest to Sorrow.
I was the Cheefe that rais'd him to the Crowne,
And Ile be Cheefe to bring him downe againe:
1880 Not that I pitty Henries misery,
But seeke Reuenge on Edwards mockery.
Exit.
[Act 4, Scene 1]
Enter Richard, Clarence, Somerset, and
Mountague.
Mountague.
Rich.
Now tell me Brother Clarence, what thinke you
Of this new Marriage with the Lady Gray?
Hath not our Brother made a worthy choice?
Cla.
1885 Alas, you know, tis farre from hence to France,
How
[p. 163]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 163]](FFimg:axc0519-0.jpg){kind=link}
How could he stay till Warwicke made returne?
Som.
My Lords, forbeare this talke: heere comes the
King.
King.
Flourish.
Enter King Edward, Lady Grey, Penbrooke, Staf
ford, Hastings: foure stand on one side,
and foure on the other.
ford, Hastings: foure stand on one side,
and foure on the other.
Rich.
And his well‑chosen Bride.
Clarence.
I minde to tell him plainly what I thinke.
King.
1890 Now Brother of Clarence,
How like you our Choyce,
That you stand pensiue, as halfe malecontent?
Clarence.
As well as Lewis of France,
Or the Earle of Warwicke,
1895 Which are so weake of courage, and in iudgement,
That they'le take no offence at our abuse.
King.
Suppose they take offence without a cause:
They are but Lewis and Warwicke, I am Edward,
Your King and Warwickes, and must haue my will.
Rich.
1900 And shall haue your will, because our King:
Yet hastie Marriage seldome proueth well.
King.
Yea, Brother Richard, are you offended too?
Rich.
Not I: no:
God forbid, that I should wish them seuer'd,
1905 Whom God hath ioyn'd together:
I, and 'twere pittie, to sunder them,
That yoake so well together.
King.
Setting your skornes, and your mislike aside,
Tell me some reason, why the Lady Grey
1910 Should not become my Wife, and Englands Queene?
And you too, Somerset, and Mountague,
Speake freely what you thinke.
Clarence.
Then this is mine opinion:
That King Lewis becomes your Enemie,
1915 For mocking him about the Marriage
Of the Lady Bona.
Rich.
And Warwicke, doing what you gaue in charge,
Is now dis‑honored by this new Marriage.
King.
What, if both Lewis and Warwick, be appeas'd,
1920 By such inuention as I can deuise?
Mount.
Yet, to haue ioyn'd with France in such alliance,
Would more haue strength'ned this our Commonwealth
'Gainst forraine stormes, then any home‑bred Marriage.
Hast.
Why, knowes not Mountague, that of it selfe,
1925 England is safe, if true within it selfe?
Mount.
But the safer, when 'tis back'd with France.
Hast.
'Tis better vsing France, then trusting France:
Let vs be back'd with God, and with the Seas,
Which he hath giu'n for fence impregnable,
1930 And with their helpes, onely defend our selues:
In them, and in our selues, our safetie lyes.
Clar.
For this one speech, Lord Hastings well deserues
To haue the Heire of the Lord Hungerford.
King.
I, what of that? it was my will, and graunt,
1935 And for this once, my Will shall stand for Law.
Rich.
And yet me thinks, your Grace hath not done well,
To giue the Heire and Daughter of Lord Scales
Vnto the Brother of your louing Bride;
Shee better would haue fitted me, or Clarence:
1940 But in your Bride you burie Brotherhood.
Clar.
Or else you would not haue bestow'd the Heire
Of the Lord Bonuill on your new Wiues Sonne,
And leaue your Brothers to goe speede elsewhere.
King.
Alas, poore Clarence: is it for a Wife
1945 That thou art malecontent? I will prouide thee.
Clarence.
In chusing for your selfe,
You shew'd your iudgement:
Which being shallow, you shall giue me leaue
To play the Broker in mine owne behalfe;
1950 And to that end, I shortly minde to leaue you.
King.
Leaue me, or tarry, Edward will be King,
And not be ty'd vnto his Brothers will.
Lady Grey.
My Lords, before it pleas'd his Maiestie
To rayse my state to Title of a Queene,
1955 Doe me but right, and you must all confesse,
That I was not ignoble of Descent,
And meaner then my selfe haue had like fortune.
But as this Title honors me and mine,
So your dislikes, to whom I would be pleasing,
1960 Doth cloud my ioyes with danger, and with sorrow.
King.
My Loue, forbeare to fawne vpon their frownes;
What danger, or what sorrow can befall thee,
So long as Edward is thy constant friend,
And their true Soueraigne, whom they must obey?
1965 Nay, whom they shall obey, and loue thee too,
Vnlesse they seeke for hatred at my hands:
Which if they doe, yet will I keepe thee safe,
And they shall feele the vengeance of my wrath.
Rich.
I heare, yet say not much, but thinke the more.
Enter a Poste.
King.
1970 Now Messenger, what Letters, or what Newes
from France?
from France?
Post.
My Soueraigne Liege, no Letters, & few words,
But such, as I (without your speciall pardon)
Dare not relate.
King.
Goe too, wee pardon thee:
1975 Therefore, in briefe, tell me their words,
As neere as thou canst guesse them.
What answer makes King Lewis vnto our Letters?
Post.
At my depart, these were his very words:
Goe tell false Edward, the supposed King,
1980 That Lewis of France is sending ouer Maskers,
To reuell it with him, and his new Bride.
King.
Is Lewis so braue? belike he thinkes me Henry.
But what said Lady Bona to my Marriage?
Post.
These were her words, vtt'red with mild disdaine:
1985 Tell him, in hope hee'le proue a Widower shortly,
Ile weare the Willow Garland for his sake.
King.
I blame not her; she could say little lesse:
She had the wrong. But what said Henries Queene?
For I haue heard, that she was there in place.
Post.
1990 Tell him (quoth she)
My mourning Weedes are done,
And I am readie to put Armour on.
King.
Belike she minds to play the Amazon.
But what said Warwicke to these iniuries?
Post.
1995 He, more incens'd against your Maiestie,
Then all the rest, discharg'd me with these words:
Tell him from me, that he hath done me wrong,
And therefore Ile vncrowne him, er't be long.
King.
Ha? durst the Traytor breath out so prowd words?
2000 Well, I will arme me, being thus fore‑warn'd:
They shall haue Warres, and pay for their presumption.
But say, is Warwicke friends with Margaret?
Post.
I, gracious Soueraigne,
They are so link'd in friendship,
2005 That yong Prince Edward marryes Warwicks Daughter.
Clarence.
Belike, the elder;
Clarence will haue the younger.
Now
[p. 164]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 164]](FFimg:axc0520-0.jpg){kind=link}
Now Brother King farewell, and sit you fast,
For I will hence to Warwickes other Daughter,
2010 That though I want a Kingdome, yet in Marriage
I may not proue inferior to your selfe.
You that loue me, and Warwicke, follow me.
Exit Clarence, and Somerset followes.
Rich.
Not I:
My thoughts ayme at a further matter:
2015 I stay not for the loue of Edward, but the Crowne.
King.
Clarence and Somerset both gone to Warwicke?
Yet am I arm'd against the worst can happen:
And haste is needfull in this desp'rate case.
Pembrooke and Stafford, you in our behalfe.
2020 Goe leuie men, and make prepare for Warre;
They are alreadie, or quickly will be landed:
My selfe in person will straight follow you.
Exeunt Pembrooke and Stafford.
But ere I goe, Hastings and Mountague
Resolue my doubt: you twaine, of all the rest,
2025 Are neere to Warwicke, by his bloud, and by allyance:
Tell me, if you loue Warwicke more then me;
If it be so, then both depart to him:
I rather wish you foes, then hollow friends.
But if you minde to hold your true obedience,
2030 Giue me assurance with some friendly Vow,
That I may neuer haue you in suspect.
Mount.
So God helpe Mountague, as hee proues
true.
true.
Hast.
And Hastings, as hee fauours Edwards cause.
King.
Now Brother Richard, will you stand by vs?
Rich.
2035 I, in despight of all that shall withstand you.
King.
Why so: then am I sure of Victorie.
Now therefore let vs hence, and lose no howre,
Till wee meet Warwicke, with his forreine powre.
Exeunt.
[Act 4, Scene 2]
Enter Warwicke and Oxford in England,
with French Souldiors.
with French Souldiors.
Warw.
Trust me, my Lord, all hitherto goes well,
2040 The common people by numbers swarme to vs.
Enter Clarence and Somerset.
But see where Somerset and Clarence comes:
Speake suddenly, my Lords, are wee all friends?
Clar.
Feare not that, my Lord.
Warw.
Then gentle Clarence, welcome vnto Warwicke,
2045 And welcome Somerset: I hold it cowardize,
To rest mistrustfull, where a Noble Heart
Hath pawn'd an open Hand, in signe of Loue;
Else might I thinke, that Clarence, Edwards Brother,
Were but a fained friend to our proceedings:
2050 But welcome sweet Clarence, my Daughter shall be thine.
And now, what rests? but in Nights Couerture,
Thy Brother being carelessely encamp'd,
His Souldiors lurking in the Towne about,
And but attended by a simple Guard,
2055 Wee may surprize and take him at our pleasure,
Our Scouts haue found the aduenture very easie:
That as Vlysses, and stout Diomede,
With sleight and manhood stole to Rhesus Tents,
And brought from thence the Thracian fatall Steeds;
2060 So wee, well couer'd with the Nights black Mantle,
At vnawares may beat downe Edwards Guard,
And seize himselfe: I say not, slaughter him,
For I intend but onely to surprize him.
You that will follow me to this attempt,
2065 Applaud the Name of Henry, with your Leader.
They all cry, Henry.
Why then, let's on our way in silent sort,
For Warwicke and his friends, God and Saint George.
Exeunt.
[Act 4, Scene 3]
Enter three Watchmen to guard the Kings Tent.
1. Watch.
Come on my Masters, each man take his stand,
The King by this, is set him downe to sleepe.
2. Watch.
2070 What, will he not to Bed?
1. Watch.
Why, no: for he hath made a solemne Vow,
Neuer to lye and take his naturall Rest,
Till Warwicke, or himselfe, be quite supprest.
2. Watch.
To morrow then belike shall be the day,
2075 If Warwicke be so neere as men report.
3. Watch.
But say, I pray, what Noble man is that,
That with the King here resteth in his Tent?
1. Watch.
'Tis the Lord Hastings, the Kings chiefest
friend.
friend.
3. Watch.
O, is it so? but why commands the King,
2080 That his chiefe followers lodge in Townes about him,
While he himselfe keepes in the cold field?
2. Watch.
'Tis the more honour, because more dange
rous.
rous.
3. Watch.
I, but giue me worship, and quietnesse,
I like it better then a dangerous honor.
2085 If Warwicke knew in what estate he stands,
'Tis to be doubted he would waken him.
1. Watch.
Vnlesse our Halberds did shut vp his pas
sage.
sage.
2. Watch.
I: wherefore else guard we his Royall Tent,
But to defend his Person from Night‑foes?
Enter Warwicke, Clarence, Oxford, Somerset,
and French Souldiors, silent all.
and French Souldiors, silent all.
Warw.
2090 This is his Tent, and see where stand his Guard;
Courage my Masters: Honor now, or neuer:
But follow me, and Edward shall be ours.
1. Watch.
Who goes there?
2. Watch.
Stay, or thou dyest.
Warwicke and the rest cry all, Warwicke, Warwicke,
and set vpon the Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme,
Warwicke and the rest following them.
and set vpon the Guard, who flye, crying, Arme, Arme,
Warwicke and the rest following them.
The Drumme playing, and Trumpet sounding.
Enter Warwicke, Somerset, and the rest, bringing the King
out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire: Richard
and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage.
Enter Warwicke, Somerset, and the rest, bringing the King
out in his Gowne, sitting in a Chaire: Richard
and Hastings flyes ouer the Stage.
Som.
2095 What are they that flye there?
Warw.
Richard and Hastings: let them goe, heere is
the Duke.
the Duke.
K. Edw.
The Duke?
Why Warwicke, when wee parted,
Thou call'dst me King.
Warw.
2100 I, but the case is alter'd.
When you disgrac'd me in my Embassade,
Then I degraded you from being King,
And come now to create you Duke of Yorke.
Alas, how should you gouerne any Kingdome,
2105 That know not how to vse Embassadors,
Nor how to be contented with one Wife,
Nor how to vse your Brothers Brotherly,
Nor how to studie for the Peoples Welfare,
Nor how to shrowd your selfe from Enemies?
![[p. 167]](FFimg:axc0521-0.jpg){kind=link}
K. Edw.
2110 Yea, Brother of Clarence,
Art thou here too?
Nay then I see, that Edward needs must downe.
Yet Warwicke, in despight of all mischance,
Of thee thy selfe, and all thy Complices,
2115 Edward will always beare himselfe as King:
Though Fortunes mallice ouerthrow my State,
My minde exceedes the compasse of her Wheele.
Warw.
Then for his minde, be Edward Englands King,
Takes off his Crowne.
But Henry now shall weare the English Crowne,
2120 And be true King indeede: thou but the shadow.
My Lord of Somerset, at my request,
See that forthwith Duke Edward be conuey'd
Vnto my Brother Arch‑Bishop of Yorke:
When I haue fought with Pembrooke, and his fellowes,
2125 Ile follow you, and tell what answer
Lewis and the Lady Bona send to him.
Now for a‑while farewell good Duke of Yorke.
They leade him out forcibly.
K. Ed.
What Fates impose, that men must needs abide;
It boots not to resist both winde and tide.
Exeunt.
Oxf.
2130 What now remaines my Lords for vs to do,
But march to London with our Soldiers?
War.
I, that's the first thing that we haue to do,
To free King Henry from imprisonment,
And see him seated in the Regall Throne.
exit.
[Act 4, Scene 4]
Enter Riuers, and Lady Gray.
Riu.
2135 Madam, what makes you in this sodain change?
Gray.
Why Brother Riuers, are you yet to learne
What late misfortune is befalne King Edward?
Riu.
What losse of some pitcht battell
Against Warwicke?
Gray.
2140 No, but the losse of his owne Royall person.
Riu.
Then is my Soueraigne slaine?
Gray.
I almost slaine, for he is taken prisoner,
Either betrayd by falshood of his Guard,
Or by his Foe surpriz'd at vnawares:
2145 And as I further haue to vnderstand,
Is new committed to the Bishop of Yorke,
Fell Warwickes Brother, and by that our Foe.
Riu.
These Newes I must confesse are full of greefe,
Yet gracious Madam, beare it as you may,
2150 Warwicke may loose, that now hath wonne the day.
Gray.
Till then, faire hope must hinder liues decay:
And I the rather waine me from dispaire
For loue of Edwards Off‑spring in my wombe:
This is it that makes me bridle passion,
2155 And beare with Mildnesse my misfortunes crosse:
I, I, for this I draw in many a teare,
And stop the rising of blood‑sucking sighes,
Least with my sighes or teares, I blast or drowne
King Edwards Fruite, true heyre to th'English Crowne.
Riu.
2160 But Madam,
Where is Warwicke then become?
Gray.
I am inform'd that he comes towards London,
To set the Crowne once more on Henries head,
Guesse thou the rest, King Edwards Friends must downe.
2165 But to preuent the Tyrants violence,
(For trust not him that hath once broken Faith)
Ile hence forthwith vnto the Sanctuary,
To saue (at least) the heire of Edwards right:
There shall I rest secure from force and fraud:
2170 Come therefore let vs flye, while we may flye,
If Warwicke take vs, we are sure to dye.
exeunt.
[Act 4, Scene 5]
Enter Richard, Lord Hastings, and Sir William
Stanley.
Stanley.
Rich.
Now my Lord Hastings, and Sir William Stanley
Leaue off to wonder why I drew you hither,
Into this cheefest Thicket of the Parke.
2175 Thus stand the case: you know our King, my Brother,
Is prisoner to the Bishop here, at whose hands
He hath good vsage, and great liberty,
And often but attended with weake guard,
Come hunting this way to disport himselfe.
2180 I haue aduertis'd him by secret meanes,
That if about this houre he make this way,
Vnder the colour of his vsuall game,
He shall heere finde his Friends with Horse and Men,
To set him free from his Captiuitie.
Enter King Edward, and a Huntsman
with him.
with him.
Huntsman.
2185 This way my Lord,
For this way lies the Game.
King Edw.
Nay this way man,
See where the Huntsmen stand.
Now Brother of Gloster, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
2190 Stand you thus close to steale the Bishops Deere?
Rich.
Brother, the time and case, requireth hast,
Your horse stands ready at the Parke‑corner.
King Ed.
But whether shall we then?
Hast.
To Lyn my Lord,
2195 And shipt from thence to Flanders.
Rich.
Wel guest beleeue me, for that was my meaning
K. Ed.
Stanley, I will requite thy forwardnesse.
Rich.
But wherefore stay we? 'tis no time to talke.
K. Ed.
Huntsman, what say'st thou?
2200 Wilt thou go along?
Hunts.
Better do so, then tarry and be hang'd.
Rich.
Come then away, lets ha no more adoo.
K. Ed.
Bishop farwell,
Sheeld thee from Warwickes frowne,
2205 And pray that I may re‑possesse the Crowne.
exeunt
[Act 4, Scene 6]
Flourish. Enter King Henry the sixt, Clarence, Warwicke,
Somerset, young Henry, Oxford, Mountague,
and Lieutenant.
Somerset, young Henry, Oxford, Mountague,
and Lieutenant.
K. Hen.
Master Lieutenant, now that God and Friends
Haue shaken Edward from the Regall seate,
And turn'd my captiue state to libertie,
My feare to hope, my sorrowes vnto ioyes,
2210 At our enlargement what are thy due Fees?
Lieu.
Subiects may challenge nothing of their Sou'rains
But, if an humble prayer may preuaile,
I then craue pardon of your Maiestie.
K. Hen.
For what, Lieutenant? For well vsing me?
2215 Nay, be thou sure, Ile well requite thy kindnesse.
For that it made my imprisonment, a pleasure:
I, such a pleasure, as incaged Birds
Conceiue; when after many moody Thoughts,
At last, by Notes of Houshold harmonie,
2220 They quite forget their losse of Libertie.
q
But
[p. 168]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 168]](FFimg:axc0522-0.jpg){kind=link}
But Warwicke, after God, thou set'st me free,
And chiefely therefore, I thanke God, and thee,
He was the Author, thou the Instrument.
Therefore that I may conquer Fortunes spight,
2225 By liuing low, where Fortune cannot hurt me,
And that the people of this blessed Land
May not be punisht with my thwarting starres,
Warwicke, although my Head still weare the Crowne,
I here resigne my Gouernment to thee,
2230 For thou art fortunate in all thy deeds.
Warw.
Your Grace hath still beene fam'd for vertuous,
And now may seeme as wise as vertuous,
By spying and auoiding Fortunes malice,
For few men rightly temper with the Starres:
2235 Yet in this one thing let me blame your Grace,
For chusing me, when Clarence is in place.
Clar.
No Warwicke, thou art worthy of the sway,
To whom the Heau'ns in thy Natiuitie,
Adiudg'd an Oliue Branch, and Lawrell Crowne,
2240 As likely to be blest in Peace and Warre:
And therefore I yeeld thee my free consent.
Warw.
And I chuse Clarence onely for Protector.
King.
Warwick and Clarence, giue me both your Hands:
Now ioyne your Hands, & with your Hands your Hearts,
2245 That no dissention hinder Gouernment:
I make you both Protectors of this Land,
While I my selfe will lead a priuate Life,
And in deuotion spend my latter dayes,
To sinnes rebuke, and my Creators prayse.
Warw.
2250 What answeres Clarence to his Soueraignes
will?
will?
Clar.
That he consents, if Warwicke yeeld consent,
For on thy fortune I repose my selfe.
Warw.
Why then, though loth, yet must I be content:
Wee'le yoake together, like a double shadow
2255 To Henries Body, and supply his place;
I meane, in bearing weight of Gouernment,
While he enioyes the Honor, and his ease.
And Clarence, now then it is more then needfull,
Forthwith that Edward be pronounc'd a Traytor,
2260 And all his Lands and Goods confiscate.
Clar.
What else? and that Succession be determined.
Warw.
I, therein Clarence shall not want his part.
King.
But with the first, of all your chiefe affaires,
Let me entreat (for I command no more)
2265 That Margaret your Queene, and my Sonne Edward,
Be sent for, to returne from France with speed:
For till I see them here, by doubtfull feare,
My ioy of libertie is halfe eclips'd.
Clar.
It shall bee done, my Soueraigne, with all
speede.
speede.
King.
2270 My Lord of Somerset, what Youth is that,
Of whom you seeme to haue so tender care?
Somers.
My Liege, it is young Henry, Earle of Rich
mond.
mond.
King.
Come hither, Englands Hope:
Layes his Hand on his Head.
If secret Powers suggest but truth
2275 To my diuining thoughts,
This prettie Lad will proue our Countries blisse.
His Lookes are full of peacefull Maiestie,
His Head by nature fram'd to weare a Crowne,
His Hand to wield a Scepter, and himselfe
2280 Likely in time to blesse a Regall Throne:
Make much of him, my Lords; for this is hee
Must helpe you more, then you are hurt by mee.
Enter a Poste.
Warw.
What newes, my friend?
Poste.
That Edward is escaped from your Brother,
2285 And fled (as hee heares since) to Burgundie.
Warw.
Vnsauorie newes: but how made he escape?
Poste.
He was conuey'd by Richard, Duke of Gloster,
And the Lord Hastings, who attended him
In secret ambush, on the Forrest side,
2290 And from the Bishops Huntsmen rescu'd him:
For Hunting was his dayly Exercise.
Warw.
My Brother was too carelesse of his charge.
But let vs hence, my Soueraigne, to prouide
A salue for any sore, that may betide.
Exeunt.
Manet Somerset, Richmond, and Oxford.
Som.
2295 My Lord, I like not of this flight of Edwards:
For doubtlesse, Burgundie will yeeld him helpe,
And we shall haue more Warres befor't be long.
As Henries late presaging Prophecie
Did glad my heart, with hope of this young Richmond:
2300 So doth my heart mis‑giue me, in these Conflicts,
What may befall him, to his harme and ours.
Therefore, Lord Oxford, to preuent the worst,
Forthwith wee'le send him hence to Brittanie,
Till stormes be past of Ciuill Enmitie.
Oxf.
2305 I: for if Edward re‑possesse the Crowne,
'Tis like that Richmond, with the rest, shall downe.
Som.
It shall be so: he shall to Brittanie.
Come therefore, let's about it speedily.
Exeunt.
[Act 4, Scene 7]
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Hastings,
and Souldiers.
and Souldiers.
Edw.
Now Brother Richard, Lord Hastings, and the rest,
2310 Yet thus farre Fortune maketh vs amends,
And sayes, that once more I shall enterchange
My wained state, for Henries Regall Crowne.
Well haue we pass'd, and now re‑pass'd the Seas,
And brought desired helpe from Burgundie.
2315 What then remaines, we being thus arriu'd
From Rauenspurre Hauen, before the Gates of Yorke,
But that we enter, as into our Dukedome?
Rich.
The Gates made fast?
Brother, I like not this.
2320 For many men that stumble at the Threshold,
Are well fore‑told, that danger lurkes within.
Edw.
Tush man, aboadments must not now affright vs:
By faire or foule meanes we must enter in,
For hither will our friends repaire to vs.
Hast.
2325 My Liege, Ile knocke once more, to summon
them.
them.
Enter on the Walls, the Maior of Yorke,
and his Brethren.
and his Brethren.
Maior.
My Lords,
We were fore‑warned of your comming,
And shut the Gates, for safetie of our selues;
For now we owe allegeance vnto Henry.
Edw.
2330 But, Master Maior, if Henry be your King,
Yet Edward, at the least, is Duke of Yorke.
Maior.
True, my good Lord, I know you for no
lesse.
lesse.
Edw.
Why, and I challenge nothing but my Dukedome,
As being well content with that alone.
![[p. 167]](FFimg:axc0523-0.jpg){kind=link}
Rich.
2335 But when the Fox hath once got in his Nose,
Hee'le soone finde meanes to make the Body follow.
Hast.
Why, Master Maior, why stand you in a doubt?
Open the Gates, we are King Henries friends.
Maior.
I, say you so? the Gates shall then be opened.
He descends.
Rich.
2340 A wise stout Captaine, and soone perswaded.
Hast.
The good old man would faine that all were wel,
So 'twere not long of him: but being entred,
I doubt not I, but we shall soone perswade
Both him, and all his Brothers, vnto reason.
Enter the Maior, and two Aldermen.
Edw.
2345 So, Master Maior: these Gates must not be shut,
But in the Night, or in the time of Warre.
What, feare not man, but yeeld me vp the Keyes,
Takes his Keyes.
For Edward will defend the Towne, and thee,
And all those friends, that deine to follow mee.
March. Enter Mountgomerie, with Drumme
and Souldiers.
and Souldiers.
Rich.
2350 Brother, this is Sir Iohn Mountgomerie,
Our trustie friend, vnlesse I be deceiu'd.
Edw.
Welcome Sir Iohn: but why come you in
Armes?
Armes?
Mount.
To helpe King Edward in his time of storme,
As euery loyall Subiect ought to doe.
Edw.
2355 Thankes good Mountgomerie:
But we now forget our Title to the Crowne,
And onely clayme our Dukedome,
Till God please to send the rest.
Mount.
Then fare you well, for I will hence againe,
2360 I came to serue a King, and not a Duke:
Drummer strike vp, and let vs march away.
The Drumme begins to march.
Edw.
Nay stay, Sir Iohn, a while, and wee'le debate
By what safe meanes the Crowne may be recouer'd.
Mount.
What talke you of debating? in few words,
2365 If you'le not here proclaime your selfe our King,
Ile leaue you to your fortune, and be gone,
To keepe them back, that come to succour you.
Why shall we fight, if you pretend no Title?
Rich.
Why Brother, wherefore stand you on nice
points?
points?
Edw.
2370 When wee grow stronger,
Then wee'le make our Clayme:
Till then, 'tis wisdome to conceale our meaning.
Hast.
Away with scrupulous Wit, now Armes must
rule.
rule.
Rich.
And fearelesse minds clyme soonest vnto Crowns.
2375 Brother, we will proclaime you out of hand,
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
Edw.
Then be it as you will: for 'tis my right,
And Henry but vsurpes the Diademe.
Mount.
I, now my Soueraigne speaketh like himselfe,
2380 And now will I be Edwards Champion.
Hast.
Sound Trumpet, Edward shal be here proclaim'd:
Come, fellow Souldior, make thou proclamation.
Flourish. Sound.
Soul.
Edward the Fourth, by the Grace of Cod, King of
England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c.
England and France, and Lord of Ireland, &c.
Mount.
And whosoe're gainsays King Edwards right,
2385 By this I challenge him to single fight.
Throwes downe his Gauntlet.
All.
Long liue Edward the Fourth.
Edw.
Thankes braue Montgomery,
And thankes vnto you all:
If fortune serue me, Ile requite this kindnesse.
2390 Now for this Night, let's harbor here in Yorke:
And when the Morning Sunne shall rayse his Carre
Aboue the Border of this Horizon,
Wee'le forward towards Warwicke, and his Mates;
For well I wot, that Henry is no Souldier.
2395 Ah froward Clarence, how euill it beseemes thee,
To flatter Henry, and forsake thy Brother?
Yet as wee may, wee'le meet both thee and Warwicke.
Come on braue Souldiors: doubt not of the Day,
And that once gotten, doubt not of large Pay.
Exeunt.
[Act 4, Scene 8]
Flourish. Enter the King, Warwicke, Mountague,
Clarence, Oxford, and Somerset.
Clarence, Oxford, and Somerset.
War.
2400 What counsaile, Lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hastie Germanes, and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pass'd in safetie through the Narrow Seas,
And with his troupes doth march amaine to London,
And many giddie people flock to him.
King.
2405 Let's leuie men, and beat him backe againe.
Clar.
A little fire is quickly trodden out,
Which being suffer'd, Riuers cannot quench.
War.
In Warwickshire I haue true‑hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in Warre,
2410 Those will I muster vp: and thou Sonne Clarence
Shalt stirre vp in Suffolke, Norfolke, and in Kent,
The Knights and Gentlemen, to come with thee.
Thou Brother Mountague, in Buckingham,
Northampton, and in Leicestershire, shalt find
2415 Men well enclin'd to heare what thou command'st.
And thou, braue Oxford, wondrous well belou'd,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster vp thy friends.
My Soueraigne, with the louing Citizens,
Like to his Iland, gyrt in with the Ocean,
2420 Or modest Dyan, circled with her Nymphs,
Shall rest in London, till we come to him:
Faire Lords take leaue, and stand not to reply.
Farewell my Soueraigne.
King.
Farewell my Hector, and my Troyes true hope.
Clar.
2425 In signe of truth, I kisse your Highnesse Hand.
King.
Well‑minded Clarence, be thou fortunate.
Mount.
Comfort, my Lord, and so I take my leaue.
Oxf.
And thus I seale my truth, and bid adieu.
King.
Sweet Oxford, and my louing Mountague,
2430 And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
War.
Farewell, sweet Lords, let's meet at Couentry.
Exeunt.
King.
Here at the Pallace will I rest a while.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your Lordship?
Me thinkes, the Power that Edward hath in field,
2435 Should not be able to encounter mine.
Exet.
The doubt is, that he will seduce the rest.
King.
That's not my feare, my meed hath got me fame:
I haue not stopt mine eares to their demands,
Nor posted off their suites with slow delayes,
2440 My pittie hath beene balme to heale their wounds,
My mildnesse hath allay'd their swelling griefes,
My mercie dry'd their water‑flowing teares.
I haue not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much opprest them with great Subsidies,
2445 Nor forward of reuenge, though they much err'd.
Then why should they loue Edward more then me?
No Exeter, these Graces challenge Grace:
q2
And
[p. 168]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 168]](FFimg:axc0524-0.jpg){kind=link}
And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe,
The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.
Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.
Exet.
2450 Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are
these?
these?
Enter Edward and his Souldiers.
Edw.
Seize on the shamefac'd Henry, beare him hence,
And once agane proclaime vs King of England.
You are the Fount that makes small Brookes to flow,
Now stops thy Spring, my Sea shall suck them dry,
2455 And swell so much the higher, by their ebbe.
Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.
Exit with King Henry.
And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course,
Where peremptorie Warwicke now remaines:
The Sunne shines hot, and if we vse delay,
2460 Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd‑for Hay.
Rich.
Away betimes before his forces ioyne,
And take the great‑growne Traytor vnawares:
Braue Warriors, march amaine towards Couentry.
Exeunt.
[Act 5, Scene 1]
Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two
Messengers and others vpon the Walls.
Messengers and others vpon the Walls.
War.
Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford?
2465 How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow?
Mess. 1.
By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.
War.
How farre off is our Brother Mountague?
Where is the Post that came from Mountague?
Mess. 2.
By this at Daintry, with a puissant troope.
Enter Someruile.
War.
2470 Say Someruile, what sayes my louing Sonne?
And by thy guesse, how nigh is Clarence now?
Someru.
At Southam I did leaue him with his forces,
And doe expect him here some two howres hence.
War.
Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme.
Someru.
2475 It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes:
The Drum your Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke.
War.
Who should that be? belike vnlook'd for friends.
Someru.
They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.
March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard,
and Souldiers.
and Souldiers.
Edw.
Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle.
Rich.
2480 See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall.
War.
Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come?
Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd,
That we could heare no newes of his repayre.
Edw.
Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates,
2485 Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee,
Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy,
And thou shall pardon thee these Outrages?
War.
Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
Confesse who set thee vp, and pluckt thee downe,
2490 Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,
And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke.
Rich.
I thought at least he would haue said the King,
Or did he makes the Ieast against his will?
War.
Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift?
Rich.
2495 I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue,
Ile doe thee seruice for so good a gift.
War.
'Twas I that gaue the Kingdome to thy Bro
ther.
ther.
Edw.
Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift.
War.
Thou art no Atlas for so great a Weight:
2500 And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe,
And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subiect.
Edw.
But Warwickes King is Edwards Prisoner:
And gallant Warwicke, doe but answer this,
What is the Body, when the Head is off?
Rich.
2505 Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore‑cast,
But whiles he thought to steale the single Ten,
The King was slyly finger'd from the Deck:
You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace,
And tenne to one you'le meet him in the Tower.
Edw.
2510 'Tis euen so, yet you are Warwicke still.
Rich.
Come Warwicke,
Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe:
Nay when? strike now, or else the Iron cooles.
War.
I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
2515 And with the other, fling it at thy face,
Then beare so low a sayle, to strike to thee.
Edw.
Sayle how thou canst,
Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend,
This Hand, fast wound about thy coale‑black hayre,
2520 Shall, whiles thy Head is warme, and new cut off,
Write in the dust this Sentence with thy blood,
Wind‑changing Warwicke now can change no more.
Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.
War.
Oh chearefull Colours, see where Oxford comes.
Oxf.
Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster.
Rich.
2525 The Gates are open, let vs enter too.
Edw.
So other foes may set vpon our backs.
Stand we in good array: for they no doubt
Will issue out againe, and bid vs battaile;
If not, the Citie being but of small defence,
2530 Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors in the same.
War.
Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe.
Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.
Mount.
Mountague, Mountague, for Lancaster.
Rich.
Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason
Euen with the dearest blood your bodies beare.
Edw.
2535 The harder matcht, the greater Victorie,
My minde presageth happy gaine, and Conquest.
Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.
Som.
Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster.
Rich.
Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset,
Haue sold their Liues vnto the House of Yorke,
2540 And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold.
Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.
War.
And loe, where George of Clarence sweepes along,
Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile:
With whom, in vpright zeale to right, preuailes
More then the nature of a Brothers Loue.
2545 Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call.
Clar.
Father of Warwick, know you what this meanes?
Looke here, I throw my infamie at thee:
I will not ruinate my Fathers House,
Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together,
2550 And set vp Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwicke,
That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt, vnnaturall,
To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre
Against
[p. 169]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 169]](FFimg:axc0525-0.jpg){kind=link}
Against his Brother, and his lawfull King.
Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath:
2555 To keepe that Oath, were more impietie,
Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter.
I am so sorry for my Trespas made,
That to deserue well at my Brothers hands,
I here proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe:
2560 With resolution, wheresoe're I meet thee,
(As I will meet thee, if thou stirre abroad)
To plague thee, for thy foule mis‑leading me.
And so, prowd‑hearted Warwicke, I defie thee,
And to my Brother turne my blushing Cheekes.
2565 Pardon me Edward, I will make amends:
And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults,
For I will henceforth be no more vnconstant.
Edw.
Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd,
Then if thou neuer hadst deseru'd our hate.
Rich.
2570 Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother‑like.
Warw.
Oh passing Traytor, periur'd and vniust.
Edw.
What Warwicke,
Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight?
Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?
Warw.
2575 Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
I will away towards Barnet presently,
And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st.
Edw.
Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way:
Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie.
Exeunt.
March. Warwicke and his companie followes.
[Act 5, Scene 2]
Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing
forth Warwicke wounded.
forth Warwicke wounded.
Edw.
2580 So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare,
For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all.
Now Mountague sit fast, I seeke for thee,
That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie.
Exit.
Warw.
Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe,
2585 And tell me who is Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke?
Why aske I that? my mangled body shewes,
My blood, my want of strength, my sicke heart shewes,
That I must yeeld my body to the Earth,
And by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
2590 Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,
Whose Armes gaue shelter to the Princely Eagle,
Vnder whose shade the ramping Lyon slept,
Whose top‑branch ouer‑peer'd Ioues spreading Tree,
And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde.
2595 These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle,
Haue beene as piercing as the Mid‑day Sunne,
To search the secret Treasons of the World:
The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood,
Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers:
2600 For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue?
And who durst smile, when Warwicke bent his Brow?
Loe, now my Glory smear'd in dust and blood.
My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had,
Euen now forsake me, and of all my Lands,
2605 Is nothing left me, but my bodies length.
Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust?
And liue we how we can, yet dye we must.
Enter Oxford and Somerset.
Som.
Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are,
We might recouer all our Losse againe:
2610 The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power.
Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye.
Warw.
Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.
2615 Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou didst,
Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood,
That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake.
Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead.
Som.
Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last,
2620 And to the latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke:
And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother.
And more he would haue said, and more he spoke,
Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault,
That mought not be distinguisht: but at last,
2625 I well might heare, deliuered with a groane,
Oh farewell Warwicke.
Warw.
Sweet rest his Soule:
Flye Lords, and saue your selues,
For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen.
Oxf.
2630 Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.
Here they beare away his Body.
Exeunt.
[Act 5, Scene 3]
Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with
Richard, Clarence, and the rest.
Richard, Clarence, and the rest.
King.
Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course,
And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie:
But in the midst of this bright‑shining Day;
I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud,
2635 That will encounter with our glorious Sunne,
Ere he attaine his easefull Westerne Bed:
I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene
Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast,
And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs.
Clar.
2640 A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud,
And blow it to the Source from whence it came,
Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp,
For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme.
Rich.
The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong,
2645 And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her:
If she haue time to breathe, be well assur'd
Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
King.
We are aduertis'd by our louing friends,
That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury.
2650 We hauing now the best at Barnet field,
Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way,
And as we march, our strength will be augmented:
In euery Countie as we goe along,
Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away.
Exeunt.
[Act 5, Scene 4]
Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young
Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and
Souldiers.
Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and
Souldiers.
Qu.
2655 Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse,
But chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes.
What though the Mast be now blowne ouer‑boord,
The Cable broke, the holding‑Anchor lost,
And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood?
2660 Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee
Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad,
With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea,
And giue more strength to that which hath too much,
Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock,
2665 Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd?
Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this.
Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that?
q3
And
[p. 170]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 170]](FFimg:axc0526-0.jpg){kind=link}
And Mountague our Top‑Mast: what of him?
Our slaught'red friends, the Tackles: what of these?
2670 Why is not Oxford here, another Anchor?
And Somerset, another goodly Mast?
The friends of France our Shrowds and Tacklings?
And though vnskilfull, why not Ned and I,
For once allow'd the skilfull Pilots Charge?
2675 We will not from the Helme, to sit and weepe,
But keepe our Course (though the rough Winde say no)
From Shelues and Rocks, that threaten vs with Wrack.
As good to chide the Waues, as speake them faire.
And what is Edward, but a ruthlesse Sea?
2680 What Clarence, but a Quick‑sand of Deceit?
And Richard, but a raged fatall Rocke?
All these, the Enemies to our poore Barke.
Say you can swim, alas 'tis but a while:
Tread on the Sand, why there you quickly sinke,
2685 Bestride the Rock, the Tyde will wash you off,
Or else you famish, that's a three‑fold Death.
This speake I (Lords) to let you vnderstand,
If case some one of you would flye from vs,
That there's no hop'd‑for Mercy with the Brothers,
2690 More then with ruthlesse Waues, with Sands and Rocks.
Why courage then, what cannot be auoided,
'Twere childish weakenesse to lament, or feare.
Prince.
Me thinkes a Woman of this valiant Spirit,
Should, if a Coward heard her speake these words,
2695 Infuse his Breast with Magnanimitie,
And make him, naked, foyle a man at Armes.
I speake not this, as doubting any here:
For did I but suspect a fearefull man,
He should haue leaue to goe away betimes,
2700 Least in our need he might infect another,
And make him of like spirit to himselfe.
If any such be here, as God forbid,
Let him depart, before we neede his helpe.
Oxf.
Women and Children of so high a courage,
2705 And Warriors faint, why 'twere perpetuall shame.
Oh braue young Prince: thy famous Grandfather
Doth liue againe in thee; long may'st thou liue,
To beare his Image, and renew his Glories.
Som.
And he that will not fight for such a hope,
2710 Goe home to Bed, and like the Owle by day,
If he arise, be mock'd and wondred at.
Qu.
Thankes gentle Somerset, sweet Oxford thankes.
Prince.
And take his thankes, that yet hath nothing
else.
else.
Enter a Messenger.
Mess.
Prepare you Lords, for Edward is at hand,
2715 Readie to fight: therefore be resolute.
Oxf.
I thought no lesse: it is his Policie,
To haste thus fast, to finde vs vnprouided.
Som.
But hee's deceiu'd, we are in readinesse.
Qu.
This cheares my heart, to see your forwardnesse.
Oxf.
2720 Here pitch our Battaile, hence we will not budge.
Flourish, and march. Enter Edward, Richard,
Clarence, and Souldiers.
Clarence, and Souldiers.
Edw.
Braue followers, yonder stands the thornie Wood,
Which by the Heauens assistance, and your strength,
Must by the Roots be hew'ne vp yet ere Night.
I need not adde more fuell to your fire,
2725 For well I wot, ye blaze, to burne them out:
Giue signall to the fight, and to it Lords.
Qu.
Lords, Knights, and Gentlemen, what I should say,
My teares gaine‑say: for euery word I speake,
Ye see I drinke the water of my eye.
2730 Therefore no more but this: Henry your Soueraigne
Is Prisoner to the Foe, his State vsurp'd,
His Realme a slaughter‑house, his Subiects slaine,
His Statutes cancell'd, and his Treasure spent:
And yonder is the Wolfe, that makes this spoyle.
2735 You fight in Iustice: then in Gods Name, Lords,
Be valiant, and giue signall to the fight.
Alarum, Retreat, Excursions.
Exeunt.
[Act 5, Scene 5]
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence,
Oxford, Somerset.
Oxford, Somerset.
Edw.
Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles.
Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight:
For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head.
2740 Goe beare them hence, I will not heare them speake.
Oxf.
For my part, Ile not trouble thee with words.
Som.
Nor I, but stoupe with patience to my fortune.
Exeunt.
Qu.
So part we sadly in this troublous World,
To meet with Ioy in sweet Ierusalem.
Edw.
2745 Is Proclamation made, That who finds Edward,
Shall haue a high Reward, and he his Life?
Rich.
It is, and loe where youthfull Edward comes.
Enter the Prince.
Edw.
Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake.
What? can so young a Thorne begin to prick?
2750 Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects,
And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
Prince.
Speake like a Subiect, prowd ambitious Yorke.
Suppose that I am now my Fathers Mouth,
2755 Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou,
Whil'st I propose the selfe‑same words to thee,
Which (Traytor) thou would'st haue me answer to.
Qu.
Ah, that thy Father had beene so resolu'd.
Rich.
That you might still haue worne the Petticoat,
2760 And ne're haue stolne the Breech from Lancaster.
Prince.
Let Æsop fable in a Winters Night,
His Currish Riddles sorts not with this place.
Rich.
By Heauen, Brat, Ile plague ye for that word.
Qu.
I, thou wast borne to be a plague to men.
Rich.
2765 For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold.
Prince.
Nay, take away this scolding Crooke‑backe,
rather.
rather.
Edw.
Peace wilfull Boy, or I will charme your tongue.
Clar.
Vntutor'd Lad, thou art too malapert.
Prince.
I know my dutie, you are all vndutifull:
2770 Lasciuious Edward, and thou periur'd George,
And thou mis‑shapen Dicke, I tell ye all,
I am your better, Traytors as ye are,
And thou vsurp'st my Fathers right and mine.
Edw.
Take that, the likenesse of this Rayler here.
Stabs him.
Rich.
2775 Sprawl'st thou? take that, to end thy agonie.
Rich. stabs him.
Clar.
And ther's for twitting me with periurie.
Clar. stabs him.
Qu.
Oh, kill me too.
Rich.
Marry, and shall.
Offers to kill her.
Edw.
Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much.
![[p. 171]](FFimg:axc0527-0.jpg){kind=link}
Rich.
2780 Why should shee liue, to fill the World with
words.
words.
Edw.
What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her
recouerie.
recouerie.
Rich.
Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother:
Ile hence to London on a serious matter,
Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes.
Cla.
2785 What? what?
Rich.
Tower, the Tower.
Exit.
Qu.
Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy.
Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers!
They that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all:
2790 Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
If this foule deed were by, to equall it.
He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe,
And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe.
What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it?
2795 No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake,
And I will speake, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and Villaine, bloudy Caniballes,
How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:
You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,
2800 The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse,
But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,
Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off.
As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince.
King.
Away with her, go beare her hence perforce.
Qu.
2805 Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere:
Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:
What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou.
Cla.
By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease.
Qu.
Good Clarence do: Sweet Clarence do thou do it.
Qu.
2810 Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?
Qu.
I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe.
'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity.
What wilt yu not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard?
Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
2815 Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes‑deed:
Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe.
Ed.
Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence.
Qu.
So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.
Exit Queene.
Ed.
Where's Richard gone.
Cla.
2820 To London all in post, and as I guesse,[.]
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.
Ed.
He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence, discharge the common sort
With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,
2825 And see our gentle Queene how well she fares,
By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.
Exit.
[Act 5, Scene 6]
Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant
on the Walles.
on the Walles.
Rich.
Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so
hard?
hard?
Hen.
I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather,
Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better:
2830 'Good Gloster and good Deuill, were alike,
And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord.
Rich.
Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre.
Hen.
So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from the Wolfe:
So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece,
2835 And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.
What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte?
Rich.
Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde,
The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer,
Hen.
The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush,
2840 With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush;
And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird,
Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,
Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.
Rich.
Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet,
2845 That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,
And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd.
Hen.
I Dedaius, my poore Boy Icarus,
Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course,
The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy.
2850 Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea
Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life:
Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,
My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point,
Then can my eares that Tragicke History.
2855 But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?
Rich.
Think'st thou I am an Executioner?
Hen.
A Persecutor I am sure thou art,
If murthering Innocents be Executing,
Why then thou art an Executioner.
Rich.
2860 Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption.
Hen.
Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first yu didst presume,
Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:
And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare,
2865 And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,
And many an Orphans water‑standing‑eye,
Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,
Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,
Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.
2870 The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe,
The Night‑Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time,
Dogs howl'd, and hideous Tempest shook down Trees:
The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,
And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung:
2875 Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,
And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope,
To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree.
Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,
2880 To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world;
And if the rest be true, which I haue heard,
Thou cam'st⸺
Rich.
Ile heare no more:
Dye Prophet in thy speech,
Stabbes him.
2885 For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd.
Hen.
I, and for much more slaughter after this,
O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee.
Dyes.
Rich.
What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted.
2890 See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death.
O may such purple teares be alway shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house.
If any sparke of Life be yet remaining,
Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.
Stabs him againe.
2895 I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare,
Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of:
For I haue often heard my Mother say,
I came into the world with my Legges forward.
Had I not reason (thinke ye) to make hast,
2900 And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right?
The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de
O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth,
And
[p. 172]
The third Part of King Henry the Sixt.
![[p. 172]](FFimg:axc0528-0.jpg){kind=link}
And so I was, which plainly signified,
That I should snarle, and bite, and play the dogge:
2905 Then since the Heauens haue shap'd my Body so,
Let Hell make crook'd my Minde to answer it.
I haue no Brother, I am like no Brother:
And this world [Loue] which Gray‑beards call Diuine,
Be resident in men like one another,
2910 And not in me: I am my selfe alone.
Clarence beware, thou keept'st me from the Light,
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee:
For I will buzze abroad such Prophesies,
That Edward shall be fearefull of his life,
2915 And then to purge his feare, Ile be thy death.
King Henry, and the Prince his Son are gone,
Clarence thy turne is next, and then the rest,
Counting my selfe but bad, till I be best.
Ile throw thy body in another roome,
2920 And Triumph Henry, in thy day of Doome.
Exit.
[Act 5, Scene 7]
Flourish. Enter King, Queene, Clarence, Richard, Hastings,
Nurse, and Attendants.
Nurse, and Attendants.
King.
Once more we sit in Englands Royall Throne,
Re‑purchac'd with the Blood of Enemies:
What valiant Foe‑men, like to Autumnes Corne,
Haue we mow'd downe in tops of all their pride?
2925 Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold Renowne,
For hardy and vndoubted Champions:
Two Cliffords, as the Father and the Sonne,
And two Northumberlands: two brauer men,
Ne're spurr'd their Coursers at the Trumpets sound.
2930 With them, the two braue Beares, Warwick & Montague,
That in their Chaines fetter'd the Kingly Lyon,
And made the Forrest tremble when they roar'd.
Thus haue we swept Suspition from our Seate,
And made our Footstoole of Security.
2935 Come hither Besse, and let me kisse my Boy:
Yong Ned, for thee, thine Vnckles, and my selfe,
Haue in our Armors watcht the Winters night,
Went all afoote in Summers scalding heate,
That thou might'st repossesse the Crowne in peace,
2940 And of our Labours thou shalt reape the gaine.
Rich.
Ile blast his Haruest, if your head were laid,
For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
This shoulder was ordain'd so thicke, to heaue,
And heaue it shall some waight, or breake my backe,
2945 Worke thou the way, and that shalt execute.
King.
Clarence and Gloster, loue my louely Queene,
And kis your Princely Nephew Brothers both.
Cla.
The duty that I owe vnto your Maiesty,
I Seale vpon the lips of this sweet Babe.
Cla.
2950 Thanke Noble Clarence, worthy brother thanks.
Rich.
And that I loue the tree from whence yu sprang'st:
Witnesse the louing kisse I giue the Fruite,
To say the truth, so Iudas kist his master,
And cried all haile, when as he meant all harme.
King.
2955 Now am I seated as my soule delights,
Hauing my Countries peace, and Brothers loues.
Cla.
What will your Grace haue done with Margaret,
Reynard her Father, to the King of France
Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Ieruselem,
2960 And hither haue they sent it for her ransome.
King.
Away with her, and waft her hence to France:
And now what rests, but that we spend the time
With stately Triumphes, mirthfull Comicke shewes,
Such as befits the pleasure of the Court.
2965 Sound Drums and Trumpets, farwell sowre annoy,
For heere I hope begins our lasting ioy.
Exeunt omnes
FINIS.