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  • Title: Henry VI, Part 3 (Octavo 1, 1595)

  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 3 (Octavo 1, 1595)

    Alarmes, and then Enter the yong Earle of
    Rutland and his Tutor.
    Tutor. Oh flie my Lord, lets leaue the Castell,
    And flie to Wakefield straight.
    Enter Clifford.
    Rut. O Tutor, looke where bloudie Clifford comes.
    Clif. Chaplin awaie, thy Priesthood saues thy life,
    As for the brat of that accursed Duke
    405Whose father slew my father, he shall die.
    Tutor Oh Clifford spare this tender Lord, least
    Heauen reuenge it on thy head: Oh saue his life.
    Clif. Soldiers awaie and drag him hence perforce:
    Awaie with the villaine.
    Exit the Chaplein.
    410How now, what dead alreadie? or is it feare that
    Makes him close his eies? Ile open them.
    Rut. So lookes the pent vp Lion on the lambe,
    415And so he walkes insulting ouer his praie,
    And so he turnes againe to rend his limmes in sunder,
    Oh Clifford, kill me with thy sword, and
    Not with such a cruell threatning looke,
    420I am too meane a subiect for thy wrath,
    Be thou reuengde on men, and let me liue.
    Clif. In vaine thou speakest poore boy: my fathers
    Bloud hath stopt the passage where thy wordes shoulde
    enter.
    425Rut. Then let my fathers blood ope it againe? he is a
    Man, and Clifford cope with him.
    Clif. Had I thy brethren here, their liues and thine
    Were not reuenge sufficient for me.
    Or should I dig vp thy forefathers graues,
    430And hang their rotten coffins vp in chaines,
    It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my hart.
    The sight of anie of the house of Yorke,
    Is as a furie to torment my soule.
    Therefore till I root out that curssed line
    435And leaue not one on earth, Ile liue in hell therefore.
    Rut. Oh let me praie, before I take my death.
    To thee I praie: Sweet Clifford pittie me.
    Clif. I, such pittie as my rapiers point affords.
    440Rut. I neuer did thee hurt, wherefore wilt thou kill
    mee?
    Clif. Thy father hath.
    Rut. But twas ere I was borne.
    Thou hast one sonne, for his sake pittie me,
    445Least in reuenge thereof, sith God is iust,
    He be as miserablie slaine as I.
    Oh, let me liue in prison all my daies,
    And when I giue occasion of offence,
    Then let me die, for now thou hast no cause.
    450Clif. No cause? Thy Father slew my father, therefore
    Die.
    Plantagenet I come Plantagenet,
    And this thy sonnes bloud cleauing to my blade,
    455Shall rust vpon my weapon, till thy bloud
    Congeald with his, doe make me wipe off both.
    Exit.