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  • Title: Henry VI, Part 3 (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    Not Peer Reviewed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 3 (Folio 1, 1623)

    The third Part of Henry the Sixt.159
    This Ladyes Husband, Sir Richard Grey, was slaine,
    His Land then seiz'd on by the Conqueror,
    Her suit is now, to repossesse those Lands,
    1505Which wee in Iustice cannot well deny,
    Because in Quarrell of the House of Yorke,
    The worthy Gentleman did lose his Life.
    Rich. Your Highnesse shall doe well to graunt her suit:
    It were dishonor to deny it her.
    1510King. It were no lesse, but yet Ile make a pawse.
    Rich. Yea, is it so:
    I see the Lady hath a thing to graunt,
    Before the King will graunt her humble suit.
    Clarence. Hee knowes the Game, how true hee keepes
    1515the winde?
    Rich. Silence.
    King. Widow, we will consider of your suit,
    And come some other time to know our minde.
    Wid. Right gracious Lord, I cannot brooke delay:
    1520May it please your Highnesse to resolue me now,
    And what your pleasure is, shall satisfie me.
    Rich. I Widow? then Ile warrant you all your Lands,
    And if what pleases him, shall pleasure you:
    Fight closer, or good faith you'le catch a Blow.
    1525Clarence. I feare her not, vnlesse she chance to fall.
    Rich. God forbid that, for hee'le take vantages.
    King. How many Children hast thou, Widow? tell
    me.
    Clarence. I thinke he meanes to begge a Child of her.
    1530Rich. Nay then whip me: hee'le rather giue her two.
    Wid. Three, my most gracious Lord.
    Rich. You shall haue foure, if you'le be rul'd by him.
    King. 'Twere pittie they should lose their Fathers
    Lands.
    1535Wid. Be pittifull, dread Lord, and graunt it then.
    King. Lords giue vs leaue, Ile trye this Widowes
    wit.
    Rich. I, good leaue haue you, for you will haue leaue,
    Till Youth take leaue, and leaue you to the Crutch.
    1540 King. Now tell me, Madame, doe you loue your
    Children?
    Wid. I, full as dearely as I loue my selfe.
    King. And would you not doe much to doe them
    good?
    1545 Wid. To doe them good, I would sustayne some
    harme.
    King. Then get your Husbands Lands, to doe them
    good.
    Wid. Therefore I came vnto your Maiestie.
    1550King. Ile tell you how these Lands are to be got.
    Wid. So shall you bind me to your Highnesse seruice.
    King. What seruice wilt thou doe me, if I giue them?
    Wid. What you command, that rests in me to doe.
    King. But you will take exceptions to my Boone.
    1555Wid. No, gracious Lord, except I cannot doe it.
    King. I, but thou canst doe what I meane to aske.
    Wid. Why then I will doe what your Grace com-
    mands.
    Rich. Hee plyes her hard, and much Raine weares the
    1560Marble.
    Clar. As red as fire? nay then, her Wax must melt.
    Wid. Why stoppes my Lord? shall I not heare my
    Taske?
    King. An easie Taske, 'tis but to loue a King.
    1565 Wid. That's soone perform'd, because I am a Subiect.
    King. Why then, thy Husbands Lands I freely giue
    thee.
    Wid. I take my leaue with many thousand thankes.
    Rich. The Match is made, shee seales it with a Cursie.
    1570King. But stay thee, 'tis the fruits of loue I meane.
    Wid. The fruits of Loue, I meane, my louing Liege.
    King. I, but I feare me in another sence.
    What Loue, think'st thou, I sue so much to get?
    Wid. My loue till death, my humble thanks, my prayers,
    1575That loue which Vertue begges, and Vertue graunts.
    King. No, by my troth, I did not meane such loue.
    Wid. Why then you meane not, as I thought you did.
    King. But now you partly may perceiue my minde.
    Wid. My minde will neuer graunt what I perceiue
    1580Your Highnesse aymes at, if I ayme aright.
    King. To tell thee plaine, I ayme to lye with thee.
    Wid. To tell you plaine, I had rather lye in Prison.
    King. Why then thou shalt not haue thy Husbands
    Lands.
    1585Wid. Why then mine Honestie shall be my Dower,
    For by that losse, I will not purchase them.
    King. Therein thou wrong'st thy Children mightily.
    Wid. Herein your Highnesse wrongs both them & me:
    But mightie Lord, this merry inclination
    1590Accords not with the sadnesse of my suit:
    Please you dismisse me, eyther with I, or no.
    King. I, if thou wilt say I to my request:
    No, if thou do'st say No to my demand.
    Wid. Then No, my Lord: my suit is at an end.
    1595 Rich. The Widow likes him not, shee knits her
    Browes.
    Clarence. Hee is the bluntest Wooer in Christen-
    dome.
    King. Her Looks doth argue her replete with Modesty,
    1600Her Words doth shew her Wit incomparable,
    All her perfections challenge Soueraigntie,
    One way, or other, shee is for a King,
    And shee shall be my Loue, or else my Queene.
    Say, that King Edward take thee for his Queene?
    1605Wid. 'Tis better said then done, my gracious Lord:
    I am a subiect fit to ieast withall,
    But farre vnfit to be a Soueraigne.
    King. Sweet Widow, by my State I sweare to thee,
    I speake no more then what my Soule intends,
    1610And that is, to enioy thee for my Loue.
    Wid. And that is more then I will yeeld vnto:
    I know, I am too meane to be your Queene,
    And yet too good to be your Concubine.
    King. You cauill, Widow, I did meane my Queene.
    1615 Wid. 'Twill grieue your Grace, my Sonnes should call
    you Father.
    King. No more, then when my Daughters
    Call thee Mother.
    Thou art a Widow, and thou hast some Children,
    1620And by Gods Mother, I being but a Batchelor,
    Haue other-some. Why, 'tis a happy thing,
    To be the Father vnto many Sonnes:
    Answer no more, for thou shalt be my Queene.
    Rich. The Ghostly Father now hath done his Shrift.
    1625 Clarence. When hee was made a Shriuer, 'twas for shift.
    King. Brothers, you muse what Chat wee two haue
    had.
    Rich. The Widow likes it not, for shee lookes very
    sad.
    1630 King. You'ld thinke it strange, if I should marrie
    her.
    Clarence. To who, my Lord?
    King. Why Clarence, to my selfe.
    Rich. That
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