Internet Shakespeare Editions

Toolbox




Jump to line
Help on texts
About this text
Print this page

About this text

  • Title: Henry VI, Part 3 (Octavo 1, 1595)

    • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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 (Octavo 1, 1595)

    Alarmes, and then enter Warwike wounded.
    War. Ah, who is nie? Come to me friend or foe,
    And tell me who is victor Yorke or Warwike?
    Why aske I that? my mangled bodie shewes,
    2810That I must yeeld my bodie to the earth.
    And by my fall the conquest to my foes,
    Thus yeelds the Cedar to the axes edge,
    Whose armes gaue shelter to the princelie Eagle,
    Vnder whose shade the ramping Lion slept,
    2815Whose top branch ouerpeerd Ioues spreading tree.
    2820The wrinkles in my browes now fild with bloud,
    Were likened oft to kinglie sepulchers.
    For who liu'd king, but I could dig his graue?
    And who durst smile, when Warwike bent his brow?
    Lo now my glorie smeerd in dust and bloud,
    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.
    2830Enter Oxford and Summerset.
    Oxf. Ah Warwike, Warwike, cheere vp thy selfe and liue,
    For yet thears hope enough to win the daie.
    Our warlike Queene with troopes is come from France,
    And at South-hampton landed all hir traine,
    And mightst thou liue then would we neuer flie.
    2835War. Whie then I would not flie, nor haue I now,
    But Hercules himselfe must yeeld to ods,
    For manie wounds receiu'd, and manie moe repaid,
    Hath robd my strong knit sinews of their strength,
    And spite of spites needes must I yeeld to death.
    Som. Thy brother Montague hath breathd his last,
    And at the pangs of death I heard him crie
    And
    Yorke, and Henrie the Sixt.
    And saie, commend me to my valiant brother,
    2845And more he would haue spoke and more he said,
    Which sounded like a clamor in a vault,
    That could not be distinguisht for the sound,
    And so the valiant Montague gaue vp the ghost.
    War. What is pompe, rule, raigne, but earth and dust?
    And liue we how we can, yet die we must.
    2850Sweet rest his soule, flie Lords and saue your selues,
    For Warwike bids you all farewell to meet in Heauen,
    He dies.
    Oxf. Come noble Summerset, lets take our horse,
    And cause retrait be sounded through the campe,
    That all our friends that yet remaine aliue,
    Maie be awarn'd and saue themselues by flight.
    That done, with them weele post vnto the Queene,
    And once more trie our fortune in the field. Ex. ambo.
    About
    Contact us
    Content quality
    Site guide
    © Internet Shakespeare Editions
    Copyright details
    Privacy policy
    This site is supported by:
    University of Victoria
    Friends of the ISE
    SSHRC