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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    Not Peer Reviewed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)

    Enter Warwike.
    War. Sore spent with toile as runners with the race,
    I laie me downe a little while to breath,
    For strokes receiude, and manie blowes repaide,
    C Hath
    The Tragedie of Richard D. of
    1060Hath robd my strong knit sinnews of their strength,
    And force perforce needes must I rest my selfe.
    Enter Edward.
    Edw. Smile gentle heauens or strike vngentle death,
    That we maie die vnlesse we gaine the daie:
    1065What fatall starre malignant frownes from heauen
    Vpon the harmelesse line of Yorkes true house?
    Enter George.
    George. Come brother, come, lets to the field againe,
    For yet theres hope inough to win the daie:
    1070Then let vs backe to cheere our fainting Troupes,
    Lest they retire now we haue left the field.
    War. How now my lords: what hap, what hope of good?
    Enter Richard running.
    Rich. Ah Warwike, why haste thou withdrawne thy selfe?
    1075Thy noble father in the thickest thronges,
    Cride still for Warwike his thrise valiant son,
    Vntill with thousand swords he was beset,
    And manie wounds made in his aged brest,
    1080And as he tottering sate vpon his steede,
    He waft his hand to me and cride aloud:
    Richard, commend me to my valiant sonne,
    And still he cride Warwike reuenge my death,
    And with those words he tumbled off his horse,
    And so the noble Salsbury gaue vp the ghost.
    War. Then let the earth be drunken with his bloud,
    Ile kill my horse because I will not flie:
    And here to God of heauen I make a vow,
    1090Neuer to passe from forth this bloudy field
    Till I am full reuenged for his death.
    Edw. Lord Warwike, I doe bend my knees with thine,
    And
    Yorke, and Henrie the Sixt.
    And in that vow now ioine my soule to thee,
    Thou setter vp and puller downe of kings,
    vouchsafe a gentle victorie to vs,
    Or let vs die before we loose the daie:
    George. Then let vs haste to cheere the souldiers harts,
    And call them pillers that will stand to vs,
    And hiely promise to remunerate
    1115Their trustie seruice, in these dangerous warres.
    Rich. Come, come awaie, and stand not to debate,
    For yet is hope of fortune good enough.
    Brothers, giue me your hands, and let vs part
    And take our leaues vntill we meet againe,
    Where ere it be in heauen or in earth.
    Now I that neuer wept, now melt in wo,
    To see these dire mishaps continue so.
    Warwike farewel.
    War. Awaie awaie, once more sweet Lords farewell.
    Exeunt Omnes.
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