Henry VI, Part 3 (Folio 1, 1623)
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154
The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
¶War. How now? what newes?
¶
Exeunt Omnes._
870
Flourish. Enter the King, the Queene, Clifford, Northum-
¶ Qu. Welcome my Lord, to this braue town of Yorke,
¶Yonders the head of that Arch-enemy,
¶Doth not the obiect cheere your heart, my Lord.
¶ K. I, as the rockes cheare them that feare their wrack,
¶With-hold reuenge (deere God) 'tis not my fault,
880Nor wittingly haue I infring'd my Vow.
¶Clif. My gracious Liege, this too much lenity
¶To whom do Lyons cast their gentle Lookes?
¶Not his that spoyles her yong before her face.
¶Not he that sets his foot vpon her backe.
890And Doues will pecke in safegard of their Brood.
¶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,
¶Which argued thee a most vnlouing Father.
¶Vnreasonable Creatures feed their young,
¶And though mans face be fearefull to their eyes,
900Yet in protection of their tender ones,
¶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?
¶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,
¶Ah, what a shame were this? Looke on the Boy,
¶And let his manly face, which promiseth
¶To hold thine owne, and leaue thine owne with him.
915King. Full well hath Clifford plaid the Orator,
¶Inferring arguments of mighty force:
¶But Clifford tell me, did'st thou neuer heare,
¶And happy alwayes was it for that Sonne,
920Whose Father for his hoording went to hell:
¶Ile leaue my Sonne my Vertuous deeds behinde,
¶And would my Father had left me no more:
¶As brings a thousand fold more care to keepe,
¶How it doth greeue me that thy head is heere.
¶And this soft courage makes your Followers faint:
¶Edward, kneele downe.
935Prin. My gracious Father, by your Kingly leaue,
¶Ile draw it as Apparant to the Crowne,
¶And in that quarrell, vse it to the death.
¶
Enter a Messenger.
¶For with a Band of thirty thousand men,
¶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,
945Darraigne your battell, for they are at hand.
¶Qu. I good my Lord, and leaue vs to our Fortune.
¶And hearten those that fight in your defence:
¶Vnsheath your Sword, good Father: Cry S. George.
¶
March. Enter Edward, Warwicke, Richard, Clarence,
955Norfolke, 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.
960Becomes it thee to be thus bold in termes,
¶Before thy Soueraigne, and thy lawfull King?
¶I was adopted Heire by his consent.
¶Cla. Since when, his Oath is broke: for as I heare,
965You 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.
¶ Rich. 'Twas you that kill'd yong Rutland, was it not?
¶Wilt thou yeeld the Crowne?
¶When you and I, met at S. Albons last,
980Your legges did better seruice then your hands.
¶ War. Then 'twas my turne to fly, and now 'tis thine:
¶ War. 'Twas not your valor Clifford droue me thence.
985Rich. Northumberland, I hold thee reuerently,
¶The execution of my big-swolne heart
¶Vpon that Clifford, that cruell Child-killer.
Rich.
