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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)

    The third Part of Henry the Sixt.169
    Against his Brother, and his lawfull King.
    Perhaps thou wilt obiect my holy Oath:
    To keepe that Oath, were more impietie,
    Then Iephah, when he sacrific'd his Daughter.
    2775I am so sorry for my Trespas made,
    That to deserue well at my Brothers hands,
    I here proclayme my selfe thy mortall foe:
    With resolution, wheresoe're I meet thee,
    (As I will meet thee, if thou stirre abroad)
    2780To plague thee, for thy foule mis-leading me.
    And so, prowd-hearted Warwicke, I defie thee,
    And to my Brother turne my blushing Cheekes.
    Pardon me Edward, I will make amends:
    And Richard, doe not frowne vpon my faults,
    2785For I will henceforth be no more vnconstant.
    Edw. Now welcome more, and ten times more belou'd,
    Then if thou neuer hadst deseru'd our hate.
    Rich. Welcome good Clarence, this is Brother-like.
    Warw. Oh passing Traytor, periur'd and vniust.
    2790Edw. What Warwicke,
    Wilt thou leaue the Towne, and fight?
    Or shall we beat the Stones about thine Eares?
    Warw. Alas, I am not coop'd here for defence:
    I will away towards Barnet presently,
    2795And bid thee Battaile, Edward, if thou dar'st.
    Edw. Yes Warwicke, Edward dares, and leads the way:
    Lords to the field: Saint George, and Victorie. Exeunt.
    March. Warwicke and his companie followes.

    Alarum, and Excursions. Enter Edward bringing
    2800forth Warwicke wounded.

    Edw. So, lye thou there: dye thou, and dye our feare,
    For Warwicke was a Bugge that fear'd vs all.
    Now Mountague sit fast, I seeke for thee,
    That Warwickes Bones may keepe thine companie.
    2805 Exit.
    Warw. Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend, or foe,
    And tell me who is Victor, Yorke, or Warwicke?
    Why aske I that? my mangled body shewes,
    My blood, my want of strength, my sicke heart shewes,
    2810That I must yeeld my body to the Earth,
    And by my fall, the conquest to my foe.
    Thus yeelds the Cedar to the Axes edge,
    Whose Armes gaue shelter to the Princely Eagle,
    Vnder whose shade the ramping Lyon slept,
    2815Whose top-branch ouer-peer'd Ioues spreading Tree,
    And kept low Shrubs from Winters pow'rfull Winde.
    These Eyes, that now are dim'd with Deaths black Veyle,
    Haue beene as piercing as the Mid-day Sunne,
    To search the secret Treasons of the World:
    2820The Wrinckles in my Browes, now fill'd with blood,
    Were lik'ned oft to Kingly Sepulchers:
    For who liu'd King, but I could digge his Graue?
    And who durst smile, when Warwicke bent his Brow?
    Loe, now my Glory smear'd in dust and blood.
    2825My Parkes, my Walkes, my Mannors that I had,
    Euen now forsake me; and of all my Lands,
    Is nothing left me, but my bodies length.
    Why, what is Pompe, Rule, Reigne, but Earth and Dust?
    And liue we how we can, yet dye we must.

    2830Enter Oxford and Somerset.

    Som. Ah Warwicke, Warwicke, wert thou as we are,
    We might recouer all our Losse againe:
    The Queene from France hath brought a puissant power.
    Euen now we heard the newes: ah, could'st thou flye.
    2835Warw. Why then I would not flye. Ah Mountague,
    If thou be there, sweet Brother, take my Hand,
    And with thy Lippes keepe in my Soule a while.
    Thou lou'st me not: for, Brother, if thou didst,
    Thy teares would wash this cold congealed blood,
    2840That glewes my Lippes, and will not let me speake.
    Come quickly Mountague, or I am dead.
    Som. Ah Warwicke, Mountague hath breath'd his last,
    And to the latest gaspe, cry'd out for Warwicke:
    And said, Commend me to my valiant Brother.
    2845And more he would haue said, and more he spoke,
    Which sounded like a Cannon in a Vault,
    That mought not be distinguisht: but at last,
    I well might heare, deliuered with a groane,
    Oh farewell Warwicke.
    2850Warw. Sweet rest his Soule:
    Flye Lords, and saue your selues,
    For Warwicke bids you all farewell, to meet in Heauen.
    Oxf. Away, away, to meet the Queenes great power.
    Here they beare away his Body. Exeunt.

    2855Flourish. Enter King Edward in triumph, with
    Richard, Clarence, and the rest.
    King. Thus farre our fortune keepes an vpward course,
    And we are grac'd with wreaths of Victorie:
    But in the midst of this bright-shining Day,
    2860I spy a black suspicious threatning Cloud,
    That will encounter with our glorious Sunne,
    Ere he attaine his easefull Westerne Bed:
    I meane, my Lords, those powers that the Queene
    Hath rays'd in Gallia, haue arriued our Coast,
    2865And, as we heare, march on to fight with vs.
    Clar. A little gale will soone disperse that Cloud,
    And blow it to the Source from whence it came,
    Thy very Beames will dry those Vapours vp,
    For euery Cloud engenders not a Storme.
    2870Rich. The Queene is valued thirtie thousand strong,
    And Somerset, with Oxford, fled to her:
    If she haue time to breathe, be well assur'd
    Her faction will be full as strong as ours.
    King. We are aduertis'd by our louing friends,
    2875That they doe hold their course toward Tewksbury.
    We hauing now the best at Barnet field,
    Will thither straight, for willingnesse rids way,
    And as we march, our strength will be augmented:
    In euery Countie as we goe along,
    2880Strike vp the Drumme, cry courage, and away. Exeunt.

    Flourish. March. Enter the Queene, young
    Edward, Somerset, Oxford, and
    Qu. Great Lords, wise men ne'r sit and waile their losse,
    2885But chearely seeke how to redresse their harmes.
    What though the Mast be now blowne ouer-boord,
    The Cable broke, the holding-Anchor lost,
    And halfe our Saylors swallow'd in the flood?
    Yet liues our Pilot still. Is't meet, that hee
    2890Should leaue the Helme, and like a fearefull Lad,
    With tearefull Eyes adde Water to the Sea,
    And giue more strength to that which hath too much,
    Whiles in his moane, the Ship splits on the Rock,
    Which Industrie and Courage might haue sau'd?
    2895Ah what a shame, ah what a fault were this.
    Say Warwicke was our Anchor: what of that?
    q3 And