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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    Not Peer Reviewed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.155
    990Rich. I like a Dastard, and a treacherous Coward,
    As thou didd'st kill our tender Brother Rutland,
    But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curse the deed.
    King. Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare
    me speake.
    995Qu. Defie them then, or els hold close thy lips.
    King. I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue,
    I am a King, and priuiledg'd to speake.
    Clif. My Liege, the wound that bred this meeting here,
    Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still.
    1000Rich. Then Executioner vnsheath thy sword:
    By him that made vs all, I am resolu'd,
    That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue.
    Ed. Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no:
    A thousand men haue broke their Fasts to day,
    1005That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the Crowne.
    War. If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head,
    For Yorke in iustice put's his Armour on.
    Pr.Ed. If that be right, which Warwick saies is right,
    There is no wrong, but euery thing is right.
    1010War. Who euer got thee, there thy Mother stands,
    For well I vvot, thou hast thy Mothers tongue.
    Qu. But thou art neyther like thy Sire nor Damme,
    But like a foule mishapen Stygmaticke,
    Mark'd by the Destinies to be auoided,
    1015As venome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull stings.
    Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt,
    Whose Father beares the Title of a King,
    (As if a Channell should be call'd the Sea)
    Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
    1020To let thy tongue detect thy base-borne heart.
    Ed. A wispe of straw were worth a thousand Crowns,
    To make this shamelesse Callet know her selfe:
    Helen of Greece was fayrer farre then thou,
    Although thy Husband may be Menelaus;
    1025And ne're was Agamemnons Brother wrong'd
    By that false Woman, as this King by thee.
    His Father reuel'd in the heart of France,
    And tam'd the King, and made the Dolphin stoope:
    And had he match'd according to his State,
    1030He might haue kept that glory to this day.
    But when he tooke a begger to his bed,
    And grac'd thy poore Sire with his Bridall day,
    Euen then that Sun-shine brew'd a showre for him,
    That washt his Fathers fortunes forth of France,
    1035And heap'd sedition on his Crowne at home:
    For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride?
    Had'st thou bene meeke, our Title still had slept,
    And we in pitty of the Gentle King,
    Had slipt our Claime, vntill another Age.
    1040 Cla. But when we saw, our Sunshine made thy Spring,
    And that thy Summer bred vs no increase,
    We set the Axe to thy vsurping Roote:
    And though the edge hath something hit our selues,
    Yet know thou, since we haue begun to strike,
    1045Wee'l neuer leaue, till we haue hewne thee downe,
    Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods.
    Edw. And in this resolution, I defie thee,
    Not willing any longer Conference,
    Since thou denied'st the gentle King to speake.
    1050Sound Trumpets, let our bloody Colours waue,
    And either Victorie, or else a Graue.
    Qu. Stay Edward.
    Ed. No wrangling Woman, wee'l no longer stay,
    These words will cost ten thousand liues this day.
    1055 Exeunt omnes.


    Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke.

    War. Fore-spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race,
    I lay me downe a little while to breath:
    For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid,
    1060Haue robb'd my strong knit sinewes of their strength,
    And spight of spight, needs must I rest a-while.

    Enter Edward running.
    Ed. Smile gentle heauen, or strike vngentle death,
    For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded.
    1065 War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of
    good?

    Enter Clarence.
    Cla. Our hap is losse, our hope but sad dispaire,
    Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs.
    1070What counsaile giue you? whether shall we flye?
    Ed. Bootlesse is flight, they follow vs with Wings,
    And weake we are, and cannot shun pursuite.

    Enter Richard.
    Rich. Ah Warwicke, why hast yu withdrawn thy selfe?
    1075Thy Brothers blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
    Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffords Launce:
    And in the very pangs of death, he cryde,
    Like to a dismall Clangor heard from farre,
    Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge my death.
    1080So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds,
    That stain'd their Fetlockes in his smoaking blood,
    The Noble Gentleman gaue vp the ghost.
    War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:
    Ile kill my Horse, because I will not flye:
    1085Why stand we like soft-hearted women heere,
    Wayling our losses, whiles the Foe doth Rage,
    And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie
    Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors.
    Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue,
    1090Ile neuer pawse againe, neuer stand still,
    Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,
    Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge.
    Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine,
    And in this vow do chaine my soule to thine:
    1095And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold face,
    I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,
    Thou setter vp, and plucker downe of Kings:
    Beseeching thee (if with thy will it stands)
    That to my Foes this body must be prey,
    1100Yet that thy brazen gates of heauen may ope,
    And giue sweet passage to my sinfull soule.
    Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe,
    Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth.
    Rich. Brother,
    1105Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,
    Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes:
    I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo,
    That Winter should cut off our Spring-time so.
    War. Away, away:
    1110Once more sweet Lords farwell.
    Cla. Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes,
    And giue them leaue to flye, that will not stay:
    And call them Pillars that will stand to vs:
    And if we thriue, promise them such rewards
    1115As Victors weare at the Olympian Games.
    This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,
    For yet is hope of Life and Victory:
    p2 Fore-
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