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Henry VI, Part 3 (Folio 1, 1623)

Author: William Shakespeare
Not Peer Reviewed
Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard, Queene, Clarence,
Oxford, Somerset.
Edw. Now here a period of tumultuous Broyles.
Away with Oxford, to Hames Castle straight:
2975For Somerset, off with his guiltie Head.
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.
2980Qu. So part we sadly in this troublous World,
To meet with Ioy in sweet Ierusalem.
Edw. 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.
2985
Enter the Prince.
Edw. Bring forth the Gallant, let vs heare him speake.
What? can so young a Thorne begin to prick?
Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make,
For bearing Armes, for stirring vp my Subiects,
2990And 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,
Resigne thy Chayre, and where I stand, kneele thou,
Whil'st I propose the selfe-same words to thee,
2995Which (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,
And ne're haue stolne the Breech from Lancaster.
Prince. Let Aesop fable in a Winters Night,
3000His 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. For Gods sake, take away this Captiue Scold.
Prince. Nay, take away this scolding Crooke-backe,
3005rather.
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:
Lasciuious Edward, and thou periur'd George,
3010And 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.
3015Rich. 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.
3020Rich. Marry, and shall.
Offers to kill her.
Edw. Hold, Richard, hold, for we haue done too much.
Rich. Why should shee liue, to fill the World with
words.
Edw. What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her
3025recouerie.
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. What? what?
3030Rich. 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:
Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
3035If 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?
No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake,
3040And I will speake, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and Villaines, bloudy Caniballes,
How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:
You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,
The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse,
3045But 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. Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere:
3050Here 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.
Cla. Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?
3055Qu. 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?
Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed:
3060Petitioners 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.
3065Cla. 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,
3070And see our gentle Queene how well she fares,
By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.
Exit.