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  • Title: Henry VI, Part 1 (Folio 1, 1623)

    • Copyright Internet Shakespeare Editions. This text may be freely used for educational, non-proift purposes; for all other uses contact the Coordinating Editor.
    Author: William Shakespeare
    Not Peer Reviewed

    Henry VI, Part 1 (Folio 1, 1623)

    117
    The first Part of Henry the Sixt.
    But Madame, I must trouble you againe,
    2625No louing Token to his Maiestie?
    Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure vnspotted heart,
    Neuer yet taint with loue, I send the King.
    Suf. And this withall. Kisse her.
    Mar. That for thy selfe, I will not so presume,
    2630To send such peeuish tokens to a King.
    Suf. Oh wert thou for my selfe: but Suffolke stay,
    Thou mayest not wander in that Labyrinth,
    There Minotaurs and vgly Treasons lurke,
    Solicite Henry with her wonderous praise.
    2635Bethinke thee on her Vertues that surmount,
    Mad naturall Graces that extinguish Art,
    Repeate their semblance often on the Seas,
    That when thou com'st to kneele at Henries feete,
    Thou mayest bereaue him of his wits with wonder. Exit

    2640 Enter Yorke, Warwicke, Shepheard, Pucell.
    Yor. Bring forth that Sorceresse condemn'd to burne.
    Shep. Ah Ione, this kils thy Fathers heart out-right,
    Haue I sought euery Country farre and neere,
    And now it is my chance to finde thee out,
    2645Must I behold thy timelesse cruell death:
    Ah Ione, sweet daughter Ione, Ile die with thee.
    Pucel. Decrepit Miser, base ignoble Wretch,
    I am descended of a gentler blood.
    Thou art no Father, nor no Friend of mine.
    2650 Shep. Out, out: My Lords, and please you, 'tis not so
    I did beget her, all the Parish knowes:
    Her Mother liueth yet, can testifie
    She was the first fruite of my Bach'ler-ship.
    War. Gracelesse, wilt thou deny thy Parentage?
    2655 Yorke. This argues what her kinde of life hath beene,
    Wicked and vile, and so her death concludes.
    Shep. Fye Ione, that thou wilt be so obstacle:
    God knowes, thou art a collop of my flesh,
    And for thy sake haue I shed many a teare:
    2660Deny me not, I prythee, gentle Ione.
    Pucell. Pezant auant. You haue suborn'd this man
    Of purpose, to obscure my Noble birth.
    Shep. 'Tis true, I gaue a Noble to the Priest,
    The morne that I was wedded to her mother.
    2665Kneele downe and take my blessing, good my Gyrle.
    Wilt thou not stoope? Now cursed be the time
    Of thy natiuitie: I would the Milke
    Thy mother gaue thee when thou suck'st her brest,
    Had bin a little Rats-bane for thy sake.
    2670Or else, when thou didst keepe my Lambes a-field,
    I wish some rauenous Wolfe had eaten thee.
    Doest thou deny thy Father, cursed Drab?
    O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good. Exit.
    Yorke. Take her away, for she hath liu'd too long,
    2675To fill the world with vicious qualities.
    Puc. First let me tell you whom you haue condemn'd;
    Not me, begotten of a Shepheard Swaine,
    But issued from the Progeny of Kings.
    Vertuous and Holy, chosen from aboue,
    2680By inspiration of Celestiall Grace,
    To worke exceeding myracles on earth.
    I neuer had to do with wicked Spirits.
    But you that are polluted with your lustes,
    Stain'd with the guiltlesse blood of Innocents,
    2685Corrupt and tainted with a thousand Vices:
    Because you want the grace that others haue,
    You iudge it straight a thing impossible
    To compasse Wonders, but by helpe of diuels.

    No misconceyued, Ione of Aire hath beene
    2690A Virgin from her tender infancie,
    Chaste, and immaculate in very thought,
    Whose Maiden-blood thus rigorously effus'd,
    Will cry for Vengeance, at the Gates of Heauen.
    Yorke. I, I: away with her to execution.
    2695 War. And hearke ye sirs: because she is a Maide,
    Spare for no Faggots, let there be enow:
    Place barrelles of pitch vpon the fatall stake,
    That so her torture may be shortned.
    Puc. Will nothing turne your vnrelenting hearts?
    2700Then Ione discouer thine infirmity,
    That warranteth by Law, to be thy priuiledge.
    I am with childe ye bloody Homicides:
    Murther not then the Fruite within my Wombe,
    Although ye hale me to a violent death.
    2705 Yor. Now heauen forfend, the holy Maid with child?
    War. The greatest miracle that ere ye wrought.
    Is all your strict precisenesse come to this?
    Yorke. She and the Dolphin haue bin iugling,
    I did imagine what would be her refuge.
    2710 War. Well go too, we'll haue no Bastards liue,
    Especially since Charles must Father it.
    Puc. You are deceyu'd, my childe is none of his,
    It was Alanson that inioy'd my loue.
    Yorke. Alanson that notorious Macheuile?
    2715It dyes, and if it had a thousand liues.
    Puc. Oh giue me leaue, I haue deluded you,
    'Twas neyther Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd,
    But Reignier King of Naples that preuayl'd.
    War. A married man, that's most intollerable.
    2720 Yor. Why here's a Gyrle: I think she knowes not wel
    (There were so many) whom she may accuse.
    War. It's signe she hath beene liberall and free.
    Yor. And yet forsooth she is a Virgin pure.
    Strumpet, thy words condemne thy Brat, and thee.
    2725Vse no intreaty, for it is in vaine.
    Pu. Then lead me hence: with whom I leaue my curse.
    May neuer glorious Sunne reflex his beames
    Vpon the Countrey where you make abode:
    But darknesse, and the gloomy shade of death
    2730Inuiron you, till Mischeefe and Dispaire,
    Driue you to break your necks, or hang your selues. Exit
    Enter Cardinall.
    Yorke. Breake thou in peeces, and consume to ashes,
    Thou fowle accursed minister of Hell.
    2735 Car. Lord Regent, I do greete your Excellence
    With Letters of Commission from the King.
    For know my Lords, the States of Christendome,
    Mou'd with remorse of these out-ragious broyles,
    Haue earnestly implor'd a generall peace,
    2740Betwixt our Nation, and the aspyring French;
    And heere at hand, the Dolphin and his Traine
    Approacheth, to conferre about some matter.
    Yorke. Is all our trauell turn'd to this effect,
    After the slaughter of so many Peeres,
    2745So many Captaines, Gentlemen, and Soldiers,
    That in this quarrell haue beene ouerthrowne,
    And sold their bodyes for their Countryes benefit,
    Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?
    Haue we not lost most part of all the Townes,
    2750By Treason, Falshood, and by Treacherie,
    Our great Progenitors had conquered:
    Oh Warwicke, Warwicke, I foresee with greefe
    The vtter losse of all the Realme of France.
    War. Be patient Yorke, if we conclude a Peace

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