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About this text

  • Title: Edward III (Quarto 1, 1596)
  • Editor: Sonia Massai

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    Not Peer Reviewed

    Edward III (Quarto 1, 1596)

    Edward the third.
    Why so she is, for when I would embrace her,
    This do I, and catch nothing but my selfe,
    I must enioy her, for I cannot beate
    With reason and reproofe fond loue a waie.
    Enter Warwicke.
    Here comes her father I will worke with him,
    To beare my collours in this feild of loue.
    War: How is it that my souereigne is so sad,
    May I with pardon know your highnes griefe,
    655And that my old endeuor will remoue it,
    It shall not comber long your maiestie,
    King: A kind and voluntary giift thou proferest,
    That I was forwarde to haue begd of thee,
    But O thou world great nurse of flatterie,
    660Whie dost thou tip mens tongues with golden words,
    And peise their deedes with weight of heauie leade,
    That faire performance cannot follow promise,
    O that a man might hold the hartes close booke,
    And choke the lauish tongue when it doth vtter
    665The breath of falshood not carectred there:
    War: Far be it from the honor of my age,
    That I shouid owe bright gould and render lead,
    Age is a cyncke, not a flatterer,
    I saye againe, that I if knew your griefe,
    670And that by me it may be lesned,
    My proper harme should buy your highnes good,
    These are the vulger tenders of false men,
    That neuer pay the duetie of their words,
    Kin: Thou wilt not sticke to sweare what thou hast said,
    675But when thou knowest my greifes condition,
    This rash disgorged vomit of thy word,
    Thou wilt eate vp againe and leaue me helples.
    War. By heauen I will not though your maiestie,
    Did byd me run vpon your sworde and die.