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  • 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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    650Enter Edward and Richard, with drum
    and Souldiers.
    Edw. After this dangerous fight and haplesse warre,
    660How doth my noble brother Richard fare?
    Rich. I cannot ioy vntil I be resolu'de,
    Where our right valiant father is become.
    How often did I see him beare himselfe,
    As doth a lion midst a heard of neat,
    So fled his enemies our valiant father,
    Me thinkes tis pride enough to be his sonne.
    Three sunnes appeare in the aire.
    Edw. Loe how the morning opes her golden gates,
    And takes her farewell of the glorious sun,
    Dasell mine eies or doe I see three suns?
    Rich. Three glorious suns, not seperated by a racking
    Cloud, but seuered in a pale cleere shining skie.
    See, see, they ioine, embrace, and seeme to kisse,
    As if they vowde some league inuiolate:
    Now are they but one lampe, one light, one sun,
    In this the heauens doth figure some euent.
    Edw. I thinke it cites vs brother to the field,
    That we the sonnes of braue Plantagenet,
    Alreadie each one shining by his meed,
    690May ioine in one and ouerpeere the world,
    As this the earth, and therefore hence forward,
    Ile beare vpon my Target, three faire shining suns.
    But what art thou? that lookest so heauilie?
    700Mes. Oh one that was a wofull looker on,
    When as the noble Duke of Yorke was slaine.
    Edw. O speake no more, for I can heare no more.
    705Rich. Tell on thy tale, for I will heare it all.
    Yorke, and Henrie the Sixt.
    Mes. When as the noble Duke was put to flight,
    And then pursu'de by Clifford and the Queene,
    715And manie souldiers moe, who all at once
    Let driue at him and forst the Duke to yeeld:
    And then they set him on a molehill there,
    And crownd the gratious Duke in high despite,
    Who then with teares began to waile his fall.
    The ruthlesse Queene perceiuing he did weepe,
    Gaue him a handkercher to wipe his eies,
    Dipt in the bloud of sweet young Rutland
    By rough Clifford slain: who weeping tooke it vp.
    720Then through his brest they thrust their bloudy swordes,
    Who like a lambe fell at the butchers feete.
    Then on the gates of Yorke they set his head,
    And there it doth remaine the piteous spectacle
    That ere mine eies beheld.
    Edw. Sweet Duke of Yorke our prop to leane vpon,
    725Now thou art gone there is no hope for vs:
    730Now my soules pallace is become a prison.
    Oh would she breake from compasse of my breast,
    For neuer shall I haue more ioie.
    735Rich. I cannot weepe, for all my breasts moisture
    Scarse serues to quench my furnace burning hart:
    I cannot ioie till this white rose be dide,
    Euen in the hart bloud of the house of Lancaster.
    Richard, I bare thy name, and Ile reuenge thy death,
    Or die my selfe in seeking of reuenge.
    745Edw. His name that valiant Duke hath left with thee,
    His chaire and Dukedome that remaines for me.
    Rich. Nay, if thou be that princely Eagles bird,
    Shew thy descent by gazing gainst the sunne.
    B4 For
    The Tragedie of Richard D. of
    For chaire, and dukedome, Throne and kingdome saie:
    750For either that is thine, or else thou wert not his?
    Enter the Earle of Warwike, Montague, with
    drum, ancient, and souldiers.
    War. How now faire Lords: what fare? what
    newes abroad?
    755Rich. Ah Warwike? should we report the balefull
    Newes, and at each words deliuerance stab poinyardes
    In our flesh till all were told, the words would adde
    More anguish then the wounds.
    Ah valiant Lord the Duke of Yorke is slaine.
    760Edw. Ah Warwike Warwike, that Plantagenet,
    Which held thee deere: I, euen as his soules redemption,
    Is by the sterne L. Clifford, done to death.
    War. Ten daies a go I drownd those newes in teares.
    And now to adde more measure to your woes,
    765I come to tell you things since then befalne.
    After the bloudie fraie at Wakefield fought,
    Where your braue father breath'd his latest gaspe,
    Tidings as swiflie as the post could runne,
    Was brought me of your losse, and his departure.
    770I then in London keeper of the King,
    Mustred my souldiers, gathered flockes of friends,
    And verie vvell appointed as I thought,
    Marcht to saint Albons to entercept the Queene,
    Bearing the King in my behalfe along,
    For by my scoutes I was aduertised,
    775That she was comming, with a full intent
    To dash your late decree in parliament,
    Touching king Henries heires and your succession.
    Short tale to make, we at Saint Albons met,
    Yorke, and Henrie the Sixt.
    Our battels ioinde, and both sides fiercelie fought,
    780But whether twas the coldnesse of the king,
    He lookt full gentlie on his warlike Queene,
    That robde my souldiers of their heated spleene.
    Or whether twas report of his successe,
    Or more then common feare of Cliffords rigor,
    785Who thunders to his captaines bloud and death,
    I cannot tell. But to conclude with truth,
    Their weapons like to lightnings went and came.
    Our souldiers like the night Owles lasie flight,
    Or like an idle thresher with a flaile,
    790Fel gentlie downe as if they smote their friends.
    I cheerd them vp with iustice of the cause,
    With promise of hie paie and great rewardes,
    But all in vaine, they had no harts to fight,
    Nor we in them no hope to win the daie,
    795So that We fled. The king vnto the Queene,
    Lord George your brother, Norffolke, and my selfe,
    In hast, post hast, are come to ioine with you,
    For in the marches here we heard you were,
    Making another head to fight againe.
    800Edw. Thankes gentle Warwike.
    How farre hence is the Duke with his power?
    And when came George from Burgundie to England?
    War. Some fiue miles off the Duke is with his power,
    But as for your brother he was latelie sent
    From your kind Aunt, Duches of Burgundie,
    805With aide of souldiers gainst this needfull warre.
    Rich. Twas ods belike, when valiant Warwike fled.
    Oft haue I heard thy praises in pursute,
    But nere till now thy scandall of retire.
    The Tragedie of Richard D. of
    War. Nor now my scandall Richard dost thou heare,
    810For thou shalt know that this right hand of mine,
    Can plucke the Diadem from faint Henries head,
    And wring the awefull scepter from his fist:
    Were he as famous and as bold in warre,
    As he is famde for mildnesse, peace and praier.
    815Rich. I know it well Lord Warwike blame me not,
    Twas loue I bare thy glories made me speake.
    But in this troublous time, whats to be done?
    Shall we go throw away our coates of steele,
    And clad our bodies in blacke mourning gownes,
    820Numbring our Auemaries with our beades?
    Or shall we on the helmets of our foes,
    Tell our deuotion with reuengefull armes?
    If for the last saie I, and to it Lords.
    War. Why therefore Warwike came to find you out,
    825And therefore comes my brother Montague.
    Attend me Lords, the proud insulting Queene,
    With Clifford and the haught Northumberland,
    And of their feather manie mo proud birdes,
    Haue wrought the easie melting king like waxe.
    830He sware consent to your succession,
    His oath inrolled in the Parliament.
    But now to London all the crew are gone,
    To frustrate his oath or what besides
    May make against the house of Lancaster.
    835Their power I gesse them fifty thousand strong.
    Now if the helpe of Norffolke and my selfe,
    Can but amount to 48. thousand,
    With all the friendes that thou braue earle of March,
    Among the louing Welshmen canst procure,
    Yorke, and Henrie the Sixt.
    840Why via, To London will we march amaine,
    And once againe bestride our foming steedes,
    And once againe crie charge vpon the foe,
    But neuer once againe turne backe and flie.
    Rich. I, now me thinkes I heare great Warwike speake:
    845Nere maie he liue to see a sunshine daie,
    That cries retire, when Warwike bids him stay.
    Edw. Lord Warwike, on thy shoulder will I leane,
    And when thou faints, must Edward fall:
    Which perill heauen forefend.
    850War. No longer Earle of March, but Duke of Yorke,
    The next degree, is Englands royall king:
    And king of England shalt thou be proclaimde,
    In euery burrough as we passe along:
    And he that casts not vp his cap for ioie,
    855Shall for the offence make forfeit of his head.
    King Edward, valiant Richard, Montague,
    Stay we no longer dreaming of renowne,
    But forward to effect these resolutions.
    Enter a Messenger.
    865Mes. The Duke of Norffolke sends you word by me,
    The Queene is comming with a puissant power,
    And craues your companie for speedie councell.
    War. Why then it sorts braue Lordes. Lets march a-
    way. Exeunt Omnes.