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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)

    168The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
    And when the Lyon fawnes vpon the Lambe,
    The Lambe will neuer cease to follow him.
    Shout within, A Lancaster, A Lancaster.
    Exet. Hearke, hearke, my Lord, what Shouts are
    Enter Edward and his Souldiers.

    Edw. Seize on the shamefac'd Henry, beare him hence,
    And once againe proclaime vs King of England.
    You are the Fount, that makes small Brookes to flow,
    2660Now stops thy Spring, my Sea shall suck them dry,
    And swell so much the higher, by their ebbe.
    Hence with him to the Tower, let him not speake.
    Exit with King Henry.
    And Lords, towards Couentry bend we our course,
    2665Where peremptorie Warwicke now remaines:
    The Sunne shines hot, and if we vse delay,
    Cold biting Winter marres our hop'd-for Hay.
    Rich. Away betimes, before his forces ioyne,
    And take the great-growne Traytor vnawares:
    2670Braue Warriors, march amaine towards Couentry.

    Enter Warwicke, the Maior of Couentry, two
    Messengers, and others vpon the Walls.

    War. Where is the Post that came from valiant Oxford?
    2675How farre hence is thy Lord, mine honest fellow?
    Mess. 1. By this at Dunsmore, marching hitherward.
    War. How farre off is our Brother Mountague?
    Where is the Post that came from Mountague?
    Mess. 2. By this at Daintry, with a puissant troope.
    2680Enter Someruile.
    War. Say Someruile, what sayes my louing Sonne?
    And by thy guesse, how nigh is Clarence now?
    Someru. At Southam I did leaue him with his forces,
    And doe expect him here some two howres hence.
    2685War. Then Clarence is at hand, I heare his Drumme.
    Someru. It is not his, my Lord, here Southam lyes:
    The Drum your Honor heares, marcheth from Warwicke.
    War. Who should that be? belike vnlook'd for friends.
    Someru. They are at hand, and you shall quickly know.

    2690March. Flourish. Enter Edward, Richard,
    and Souldiers.
    Edw. Goe, Trumpet, to the Walls, and sound a Parle.
    Rich. See how the surly Warwicke mans the Wall.
    War. Oh vnbid spight, is sportfull Edward come?
    2695Where slept our Scouts, or how are they seduc'd,
    That we could heare no newes of his repayre.
    Edw. Now Warwicke, wilt thou ope the Citie Gates,
    Speake gentle words, and humbly bend thy Knee,
    Call Edward King, and at his hands begge Mercy,
    2700And he shall pardon thee these Outrages?
    War. Nay rather, wilt thou draw thy forces hence,
    Confesse who set thee vp, and pluckt thee downe,
    Call Warwicke Patron, and be penitent,
    And thou shalt still remaine the Duke of Yorke.
    2705Rich. I thought at least he would haue said the King,
    Or did he make the Ieast against his will?
    War. Is not a Dukedome, Sir, a goodly gift?
    Rich. I, by my faith, for a poore Earle to giue,
    Ile doe thee seruice for so good a gift.
    2710 War. 'Twas I that gaue the Kingdome to thy Bro-
    Edw. Why then 'tis mine, if but by Warwickes gift.
    War. Thou art no Atlas for so great a weight:
    And Weakeling, Warwicke takes his gift againe,
    2715And Henry is my King, Warwicke his Subiect.
    Edw. But Warwickes King is Edwards Prisoner:
    And gallant Warwicke, doe but answer this,
    What is the Body, when the Head is off?
    Rich. Alas, that Warwicke had no more fore-cast,
    2720But whiles he thought to steale the single Ten,
    The King was slyly finger'd from the Deck:
    You left poore Henry at the Bishops Pallace,
    And tenne to one you'le meet him in the Tower.
    Edw. 'Tis euen so, yet you are Warwicke still.
    2725Rich. Come Warwicke,
    Take the time, kneele downe, kneele downe:
    Nay when? strike now, or else the Iron cooles.
    War. I had rather chop this Hand off at a blow,
    And with the other, fling it at thy face,
    2730Then beare so low a sayle, to strike to thee.
    Edw. Sayle how thou canst,
    Haue Winde and Tyde thy friend,
    This Hand, fast wound about thy coale-black hayre,
    Shall, whiles thy Head is warme, and new cut off,
    2735Write in the dust this Sentence with thy blood,
    Wind-changing Warwicke now can change no more.

    Enter Oxford, with Drumme and Colours.

    War. Oh chearefull Colours, see where Oxford comes.
    Oxf. Oxford, Oxford, for Lancaster.
    2740Rich. The Gates are open, let vs enter too.
    Edw. So other foes may set vpon our backs.
    Stand we in good array: for they no doubt
    Will issue out againe, and bid vs battaile;
    If not, the Citie being but of small defence,
    2745Wee'le quickly rowze the Traitors in the same.
    War. Oh welcome Oxford, for we want thy helpe.

    Enter Mountague, with Drumme and Colours.

    Mount. Mountague, Mountague, for Lancaster.
    Rich. Thou and thy Brother both shall buy this Treason
    2750Euen with the dearest blood your bodies beare.
    Edw. The harder matcht, the greater Victorie,
    My minde presageth happy gaine, and Conquest.

    Enter Somerset, with Drumme and Colours.

    Som. Somerset, Somerset, for Lancaster.
    2755Rich. Two of thy Name, both Dukes of Somerset,
    Haue sold their Liues vnto the House of Yorke,
    And thou shalt be the third, if this Sword hold.

    Enter Clarence, with Drumme and Colours.

    War. And loe, where George of Clarence sweepes along,
    2760Of force enough to bid his Brother Battaile:
    With whom, in vpright zeale to right, preuailes
    More then the nature of a Brothers Loue.
    Come Clarence, come: thou wilt, if Warwicke call.
    Clar. Father of Warwick, know you what this meanes?
    2765Looke here, I throw my infamie at thee:
    I will not ruinate my Fathers House,
    Who gaue his blood to lyme the stones together,
    And set vp Lancaster. Why, trowest thou, Warwicke,
    That Clarence is so harsh, so blunt vnnaturall,
    2770To bend the fatall Instruments of Warre