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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
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    Henry VI, Part 3 (Folio 1, 1623)

    160The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
    Rich. That would be tenne dayes wonder at the least.
    1635Clarence. That's a day longer then a Wonder lasts.
    Rich. By so much is the Wonder in extremes.
    King. Well, ieast on Brothers: I can tell you both,
    Her suit is graunted for her Husbands Lands.

    Enter a Noble man.

    1640Nob. My gracious Lord, Henry your Foe is taken,
    And brought your Prisoner to your Pallace Gate.
    King. See that he be conuey'd vnto the Tower:
    And goe wee Brothers to the man that tooke him,
    To question of his apprehension.
    1645Widow goe you along: Lords vse her honourable.
    Manet Richard.
    Rich. I, Edward will vse Women honourably:
    Would he were wasted, Marrow, Bones, and all,
    1650That from his Loynes no hopefull Branch may spring,
    To crosse me from the Golden time I looke for:
    And yet, betweene my Soules desire, and me,
    The lustfull Edwards Title buryed,
    Is Clarence, Henry, and his Sonne young Edward,
    1655And all the vnlook'd-for Issue of their Bodies,
    To take their Roomes, ere I can place my selfe:
    A cold premeditation for my purpose.
    Why then I doe but dreame on Soueraigntie,
    Like one that stands vpon a Promontorie,
    1660And spyes a farre-off shore, where hee would tread,
    Wishing his foot were equall with his eye,
    And chides the Sea, that sunders him from thence,
    Saying, hee'le lade it dry, to haue his way:
    So doe I wish the Crowne, being so farre off,
    1665And so I chide the meanes that keepes me from it,
    And so (I say) Ile cut the Causes off,
    Flattering me with impossibilities:
    My Eyes too quicke, my Heart o're-weenes too much,
    Vnlesse my Hand and Strength could equall them.
    1670Well, say there is no Kingdome then for Richard:
    What other Pleasure can the World affoord?
    Ile make my Heauen in a Ladies Lappe,
    And decke my Body in gay Ornaments,
    And 'witch sweet Ladies with my Words and Lookes.
    1675Oh miserable Thought! and more vnlikely,
    Then to accomplish twentie Golden Crownes.
    Why Loue forswore me in my Mothers Wombe:
    And for I should not deale in her soft Lawes,
    Shee did corrupt frayle Nature with some Bribe,
    1680To shrinke mine Arme vp like a wither'd Shrub,
    To make an enuious Mountaine on my Back,
    Where sits Deformitie to mocke my Body;
    To shape my Legges of an vnequall size,
    To dis-proportion me in euery part:
    1685Like to a Chaos, or an vn-lick'd Beare-whelpe,
    That carryes no impression like the Damme.
    And am I then a man to be belou'd?
    Oh monstrous fault, to harbour such a thought.
    Then since this Earth affoords no Ioy to me,
    1690But to command, to check, to o're-beare such,
    As are of better Person then my selfe:
    Ile make my Heauen, to dreame vpon the Crowne,
    And whiles I liue, t'account this World but Hell,
    Vntill my mis-shap'd Trunke, that beares this Head,
    1695Be round impaled with a glorious Crowne.
    And yet I know not how to get the Crowne,
    For many Liues stand betweene me and home:
    And I, like one lost in a Thornie Wood,
    That rents the Thornes, and is rent with the Thornes,
    1700Seeking a way, and straying from the way,
    Not knowing how to finde the open Ayre,
    But toyling desperately to finde it out,
    Torment my selfe, to catch the English Crowne:
    And from that torment I will free my selfe,
    1705Or hew my way out with a bloody Axe.
    Why I can smile, and murther whiles I smile,
    And cry, Content, to that which grieues my Heart,
    And wet my Cheekes with artificiall Teares,
    And frame my Face to all occasions.
    1710Ile drowne more Saylers then the Mermaid shall,
    Ile slay more gazers then the Basiliske,
    Ile play the Orator as well as Nestor,
    Deceiue more slyly then Vlisses could,
    And like a Synon, take another Troy.
    1715I can adde Colours to the Camelion,
    Change shapes with Proteus, for aduantages,
    And set the murtherous Macheuill to Schoole.
    Can I doe this, and cannot get a Crowne?
    Tut, were it farther off, Ile plucke it downe. Exit.

    Enter Lewis the French King, his Sister Bona, his
    Admirall, call'd Bourbon: Prince Edward,
    Queene Margaret, and the Earle of Oxford.
    Lewis sits, and riseth vp againe.

    1725Lewis. Faire Queene of England, worthy Margaret,
    Sit downe with vs: it ill befits thy State,
    And Birth, that thou should'st stand, while Lewis doth sit.
    Marg. No, mightie King of France: now Margaret
    Must strike her sayle, and learne a while to serue,
    1730Where Kings command. I was (I must confesse)
    Great Albions Queene, in former Golden dayes:
    But now mischance hath trod my Title downe,
    And with dis-honor layd me on the ground,
    Where I must take like Seat vnto my fortune,
    1735And to my humble Seat conforme my selfe.
    Lewis. Why say, faire Queene, whence springs this
    deepe despaire?
    Marg. From such a cause, as fills mine eyes with teares,
    And stops my tongue, while heart is drown'd in cares.
    1740Lewis. What ere it be, be thou still like thy selfe,
    And sit thee by our side. Seats her by him.
    Yeeld not thy necke to Fortunes yoake,
    But let thy dauntlesse minde still ride in triumph,
    Ouer all mischance.
    1745Be plaine, Queene Margaret, and tell thy griefe,
    It shall be eas'd, if France can yeeld reliefe.
    Marg. Those gracious words
    Reuiue my drooping thoughts,
    And giue my tongue-ty'd sorrowes leaue to speake.
    1750Now therefore be it knowne to Noble Lewis,
    That Henry, sole possessor of my Loue,
    Is, of a King, become a banisht man,
    And forc'd to liue in Scotland a Forlorne;
    While prowd ambitious Edward, Duke of Yorke,
    1755Vsurpes the Regall Title, and the Seat
    Of Englands true anoynted lawfull King.
    This is the cause that I, poore Margaret,
    With this my Sonne, Prince Edward, Henries Heire,
    Am come to craue thy iust and lawfull ayde:
    1760And if thou faile vs, all our hope is done.
    Scotland hath will to helpe, but cannot helpe: