Geo. But when we saw our sunshine made
thy spring.
And that thy summer bred us no increase,
We set the axe to thy usurping root ;
And though the edge hath something hit our-
selves,
38
Act II Scene 3
Yet, know thou, since we have begun to strike.
We '11 never leave till we have hewn thee down,
Or bath'd thy growing with our heated bloods.
Edio. And in this resoUition I defy thee ;
Not willing any longer conference,
Since thou deniest the gentle king to speak.
Sound trumpets ! let our bloody colours wave,
And either victory or else a grave !
Q. Mar. Stay, Edward.
Ecliv. No, wrangling woman, we'll no longer
stay;
These words will cost ten thousand lives this
day. [Exeunt.
Scene 3. — A Field of Battle near Towton, Yorks.
Alarums. Excursioixs. Eiiter Warwick.
War. Forspent with toil, as runners with a
race,
I lay me down a little while to breathe ;
For strokes receiv'd, and many blows repaid.
Have robb'd my strong-knit sinews of their
strength.
And, spite of spite, needs must I rest awhile.
Enter Edward, running.
Edw. Smile, gentle heaven, or strike, ungentle
death !
For this world frowns, and Edward's sun is
clouded.
War. How now, my lord ? what hap ? what
hope of good ?
Enter George.
Geo. Our hap is loss, our hope but sad despair ;
Our ranks are broke, and ruin follows us.
What counsel give you ? whither shall we fly ?
39
Third Part of King Henry VI
Edxo. Bootless is flight, they follow us with
wings ;
And weak we are, and cannot shun pursuit.
Enter Rix:hard.
Rich. Ah, Warwick, why liast thou with-
drawn thyself?
Thy brother's blood the, thirsty earth hath
drunk,
Broach'd with the steely point of C'iifTord's lance;
And in the very pangs of death he cried,
Like to a dismal clangor heard from far,
'Warwick, revenge ! V)rother, revenge my death !'
So, underneath the belly of their steeds,
That stain'd their fetlocks in his smoking blood,
The noble gentleman gave up the ghost.
War. Then let the earth be drunken with our
blood ;
I '11 kill my horse, because I will not fly.
Why stand we like soft-hearted women here.
Availing our losses, Avhilos the foe doth rage ;
And look upon, as if the tragedy
Were play'd in jest by counteifi>iting actors ?
Here on my knee I vow to God above,
T '11 never pause again, never stand still.
Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine.
Or fortune given me measure of revenge.
Edw. O Warwick, I do bend my knee with
thine,
And in this vow do chain my soul to thine I
And, ere my knee rise from the earth's cold face,
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee.
Thou setter-up and pluckcr-dowii of kings,
Beseeching thee, if with thy will it stands
That to my foes this body must be prey.
Yet that thy brazen gates of heaven may ope,
40
Act II Scene 4
And give sweet passage to my sinful soul. —
Now, lords, take leave until we meet again,
Where'er it be, in heaven or in earth.
Rich. Brother, give me thy hand ; and, gentle
Warwick,
Let me embrace thee in my weary arms.
I, that did never weep, now melt with woe,
That winter should cut off our spring-time so.
War. Away, away ! Once more, sweet lords,
farewell.
Geo. Yet let us all together to our troops.
And give them leave to fly that will not stay.
And call them pillars that will stand to us ;
And if we thrive, promise them such rewards
As victors wear at the Olympian games.
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,
For yet is hope of life and victory.
Forslow* no longer; make we hence amain, [delay
[Exeunt.
Scene 4.— Another Part of the Field.
Exctirsions. Enter Richard and CUjford.
Rich. Now, Clifford, I have singled thee alone.
Suppose this arm is for the Duke of Yoik,
And this for Rutland ; both bound to revenge,
Wert thou environVl with a biazcn wall.
Clif. Now, Richard, I am w ith thee here alone.
Tliis is the hand that stabb'd thy father Yoi-k,
And this Lhe hand that slew thy brother Rut-
land ;
And here's the heart that triumphs in their
death,
And cheers these hands that slew thy sire and
brother
To .execute the like upon thyself ;
41
Third Part of King Henry VI
And so have at thee.
[ They fi(iht. Warwick enters ; Clifford flies.
Bich. Nay, AVarwick, single out some other
chase ;
For I myself will hunt this wolf to death.
[Exeuiil.
Scene .5,— Another Part of the Field.
Alarum. Enter King Henry.
K. Hen. This battle fares like to the morn-
ing's war,
When dying clouds contend with growing light.
What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails.
Can neither call it perfect day nor night.
Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea
Forc'd by the tide to combat with the wind ;
Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea
Forc'd to retire by fury of the wind.
Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind;
Now one the better, then another best ;
Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast,
Yet neither conqueror nor conqiiered :
So is the equal poise of this fell war.
Here on this molehill will I sit me down.
To whom God will, there be the victory !
For JMargaret my queen, and Clifford too.
Have chid me from the battle, swearing both
They prosper best of all when I am thence.
Would I were dead ! if God's good will were so ;
For Avhat is in this world but grief and woe ?
O God 1 methinks it were a happy life.
To be no better than a homely swain ;
To sit upon a hill, as I do now.
To carve out dials quaintly, point by point,
Thereby to see the minutes how they run,
42
Act II Scene 5
How many make the hour full complete,
How many hours bring about the day,
How many days will finish up the year,
How many years a mortal man may live.
When this is known, then to divide the times :
So many hours must I tend my flock ;
So many hours must I take my rest ;
So many hours must T contemplate ;
So many hours must I sport myself ;
So many days my ewes have been with young ;
So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean ;
So many years ere I shall shear the fleece.
So minutes, hours, days, months, and years,
Pass'd over to the end they were created.
Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave.
Ah, what a life were this ! how sweet ! how
lovely !
Gives not the hawthorn bush a sweeter shade
To shepherds looking on their silly sheep,
Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy
To kings that fear their subjects' treachery ?
O, yes, it doth ; a thousand-fold it doth.
And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds.
His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle.
His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade,
All which secure and sweetly he enjoys,
Is far beyond a prince's delicates,
His viands sparkling in a golden cup,
His body couched in a curious bed.
When care, mistrust, and treason wait on him.
Alarum. Enter a Son that hatli killed h is
father, britujlng in the dead body.
Son. Ill blows the wind that profits nobody.
This man, Avhom hand to hand I slew in fight.
May be possessed with some store of crowns ;
43
Third Part of King Henry VI
And I, that haply take them from him now,
May yet ere niglit yit>ld both my life and them
To some man else, as this dead man doth me. —
Who 's this ? O God I it is my father's face,
Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd.
O heavy times, begetting such events !
From London by the king was I press'd forth ;
My father, being the Karl of Warwick's man,
C'ame on the part of York, press'd by his master ;
And I, who at his liaiuls receiv'd my life.
Have by my hands of life bereaved him.
Paidon n)e, God, I knew not what I did ;
And pardon, father, for I knew not thee !
Mj tears shall wipe away these bloody marks.
And no more words till they have flow'd their fill.
K. Hen, O piteous spectacle ! O bloody times 1
Whiles lions war and Imttle for their dens,
Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity.
Weep, wretched man, I '11 aid thee tear for tear ;
And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war,
Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharg'd with
grief.
Enter a Father who has killed his son, toith
t/ic body in his arms.
Fath. Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me,
Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold,
For T have bought it with an hundred blows.
But let me see ; is this our foeman's face ?
Ah, no, no, no ! it is mine only son !
Ah, boy ! if any life be left in thee.
Throw up thine eye ; see, see, what showers arise.
Blown with the windy tempest of my heart.
Upon thy wounds, that kill mine eye and heart !
O, pity, God, this miserable age !
What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly,
44
Act II Scene 5
Erroneous, mutinous, and unnatural,
This deadly quarrel daily doth beget!
O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon.
And hath bereft thee of thy life too late.
K. Hen. Woe above woe ! grief more than
common grief !
O that my death would stay these ruthf ul deeds !
O, pity, pity ! gentle heaven, pity !
The red rose and the white are on his face.
The fatal colours of our striving houses ;
The one his purple blood right well resembles,
The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth.
Wither one rose, and let the other flourish !
If you contend, a thousand lives must wither.
Son. How will my mother, for a father's death,
Take on with me, and ne'er be satisfied !
Fath. How will my wife, for slaughter of my
son,
Shed seas of tears, and ne'er be satisfied !
K. Hen. How will the country, for these
woful chances,
Misthink the king and not be satisfied !
Son. Was ever son so lued a father's death ?
Fath. Was ever father so bervioan'd his son ?
K. Hen. Was ever king so griev'd for subjects'
woe?
Much is your soi-row ; mine ten times so much.
Son. I '11 bear thee hence, where I may weep
my fill. [E.vit rcith the hody.
Fath. These arms of mine shall be thy wind-
ing-sheet ;
My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre,
For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go ;
My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell ;
And so obsequious will thy father be,
E'en for the loss of thee, having no more,
45
Tliird Part of Kin<^ licnrv VI
As Priam was for all his valiant sons.
I '11 bear thee hence ; and let them fight that will,
For I have murther'd where I should not kill.
[Font with the body.
K. Hen. Sad-hearted men, much overgone
with care,
Here sits a king more woful than you are.
Alarums. Excursions. Enter Queen Mar-
garet, Prince of Wales, and Exeter.
Prince. Flj', father, fly ! for all yoiu* friends
are fled.
And Warwick rages like a chafed bull.
Away ! for death doth hold us in pursuit.
Q. Mar. Mount you, my lord ; towards Ber-
wick post amain.
Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds,
Having the fearful flying hare in sight,
With fiery eyes, sparkling for very ^^Tath,
And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands.
Are at our backs ; and therefore hence amain.
Exe. Away ! for vengeance comes along with
them.
Nay, stay not to expostulate ; make speed,
Or else come after : I '11 away before.
K. Hen. Nay, take me with thee, good sweet
Exeter ;
Not that I fear to stay, but love to go
Whither the queen intends. Forward ! away !
[Exemit.
Scene 6.— Another Part of the Field.
A loud alarum. Enter Clifford, wounded.
Clif. Here burns my candle out; ay, here it dies.
Which, whiles it lasted, gave King Henry light.
O Lancaster ! I fear thy overthrow
46
Act II Scene 6
More than my body's parting with my soul !
My love and fear glued many friends to thee ;
And, now I fall, thy tough commixtures melt.
Impairing Henry, strengthening mis-proud
York.
The common people swarm like summer flies ;
And whither fly the gnats but to the sun ?
And who shines now but Henry's enemies ?
Phoebus, hadst thou never given consent
That Phaethon should check thy fiery steeds.
Thy burning car never had scorch'd the earth !
And, Henry, hadst thou sway'd as kings
should do.
Or as thy father and his father did,
Giving no ground unto the house of York,
They never then had sprung like summer flies ;
I, and ten thousand in this luckless realm.
Had left no mourning widows for our death.
And thou this day hadst kept thy chair in peace.
For what doth cherish weeds but gentle air ?
And what makes robbers bold but too much
lenity ?
Bootless are plaints,'and cureless are my wounds ;
No way to fly, nor strength to hold out flight.
The foe is merciless and will not pity.
For at their hands I have deserv'd no pity.
The air hath got into my deadly wounds,
And much effuse of blood doth make me faint. —
Come, York, and Richard, Warwick, and therest ;
1 stabb'd your fathers' bosoms, split my breast.
[He faints.
Alainim and retreat. Enter Edward, George,
Richard, Montague, Waricick, and Soldierfi.
Edxo. Now breathe we, lords ; good fortune
bids us pause,
47
Tliiid Part of Kiinr Henry VI
And smooth the frowns of war with peaceful
looks.
Some troops pursue the bloody-minrlod qneen,
That led calm Henry, though he were a king,
As doth a sail, fill'd with a fretting gust,
Command an argosy to stem the waves.
But think yon, lords, that Clifford fled wltli
them ?
Wai'. No, 'tis impossible he should escape ;
For, though before his faee I speak the words,
Your brother Kkhard mark\l him for the grave.
And wheresoe'er he is, he 's surely dead.
[Clifford (ji-oans and dies.
Edio. "Whose soul is that which takes her
heavy leave ?
Rich. A deadly groan, like life and death'ts
departing.
Edw. See who it is ; and, now the battle 's
ended,
If friend or foe, let him be gently us'd.
Rich. Revoke that doom of mercy; for 'tis
Clifford,
Who, not contented that ho lo]ip'd the branch,
In hewing Rutland when his leaves put forth.
But set his niurthering knife unto the root
Fi'om whence that tender spray did sweetly
spring ;
I mean our princely father, Duke of York.
\Va7\ From off the gates of York fetch down
the head,
Your father's head, which Clifford placed there ;
Instead whereof, let this supply the room :
Measure for measiue nmst be answered.
Edit: Bring forth that fatal screech-owl to
our house.
That nothing sung but death to us and ours ;
48
Act II Scene 6
Now death shall stop his dismal threatening
sound,
And his ill-boding tongue no more shall speak.
[Soldiers bring the body fonvard.
War. I think his understanding is bereft.
Speak, Clifford, dost thou know who speaks to
thee ? [his eyes
Dark cloudy death o'ershades his beams of life,*
And he nor sees, nor hears us, what we say.
Rich. O, would he did 1 and so, perhaps, he
doth ;
'Tis but his policy to counterfeit.
Because he would avoid such bitter taunts
Which in the time of death he gave our father.
Geo. If so thou think'st, vex him with eager*
words. [sour
Rich, Clifford, ask mercy, and obtain no grace.
Edw. Clifford, repent in bootless penitence.
War. Clifford, devise excuses for thy faults.
Geo. While we devise fell tortures for thy
faults.
Rich. Thou didst love York, and I am son to
York.
Edw. Thou pitied'st Rutland, I will pity thee.
Geo. Where 's Captain Margaret to fence you
now ?
War. They mock thee, Clifford ; swear as
thou wast wont.
Rich. What ! not an oath ? nay then, the
world goes hard.
When Clifford cannot spare his friends an oath.
I know by that he 's dead ; and, by my soul,
If this right hand would buy two hours' life,
That I in all despite might rail at him,
This hand should chop it off", and with the
issuing blood
7 D 49
Third Part of King Henry VI
stifle the villain, whose unstaunched thirst
York and yonnp: Rutland could not satisfy.
War. Ay, l)ut he 's dead. Off with the
traitor's head,
And rear it in the place your father's stands. —
And now to London with triumphant nuii-ch.
There to be crowned England's royal king ;
From whence shall Warwick cut the sea to
France,
And ask the Lady Bona for thy queen.
So shalt than sinew both these lands together,
And, having France thy friend, thou shalt not
dread
The scattoi-'d foe that hopes to rise again ;
For though they cannot greatly sting to hurt.
Yet look to have them buzz to offend thine ears.
First will I see the coronation,
And then to Brittany I '11 cross the sea.
To effect this niai liage, so it please my lord.
Edw. Even as thou wilt, sweet Warwick, let
it be ;
For in thy shoulder do I build my seat.
And never will I undertake the thing
Wherein thy counsel and consent is wanting. —
Richard, I will create thee Duke of Gloster,
And George, of Clarence. Warwick, as ourself,
Shall do and undo as him pleaseth best.
Jiich. Let ine be Duke of Clarence, George of
Gloster, [title of illomen
For Gloster's dukedom is too ominous.*
War. T\it ! that's a foolish observation ;
Richard, be Duke of Gloster. — Now to London,
To see these honours in possession. [Exeunt.
so
Act III Scene 1
ACT III.
Scene 1. — A Forest in the North of England.
Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in
their hands.
1st Keep. Under this thick -grown brake we '11
shroud ourselves ;
For through this laund* anon the deer will [lawn
come.
And in this covert w^ill we make our stand,
Culling the principal of all the deer.
2nd Keep. I '11 stay above the hill, so both
may shoot.
1st Keep. That cannot be ; the noise of thy
cross-bow
Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost.
Here stand we both, and aim we at the best ;
And, for the time shall not seem tedious,
I '11 tell thee what befell me on a day
In this self place where now we mean to stand.
2nd Keep. Here comes a man ; let 's stay till
he be past.
Enter King Henry, disguised, toith a
prayer-book.
K. Hen. From Scotland am I stol'n, even of
pure love,
To greet mine own land with my wishful sight.
No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine ;
Thy place is fill'd, thy sceptre wrung from thee,
Thy balm wash'd off wherewith thou wast
anointed.
No bending knee will call thee Caesar now,
No humble suitors press to speak for right ;
No, not a man comes for redress of thee,
SI
Third Part of Kinjr Heiirv VI
For how ran I help thom, and not mj'self ?
\st Keep. Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a
keeper's fee.
This is the quondam king ; let 's seize upon him.
K. Hen. Let me emhrace thee, sour adversity ;
For wise men say it is the wisest course.
'Ind Keep. Why linger we ? let us lay hands
upon him.
l.s^ Keep. Forbear awhile ; we '11 hear a little
more.
A'. Hen. My queen and son are gone to
France for aid ;
And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick
Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister
To wife for Edward. If this news be true,
Poor queen and son, your labour is but lost ;
For Warwick is a subtle orator,
And Lewis a prince soon won with moving
words.
By this account then Margaret may win him,
For she 's a woman to be pitied much :
Hei- sighs will make a battery in his breast,
Her tears will pierce into a marble heart ;
The tiger will be mild whiles she doth mourn,
And Nero Avill be tainted with remorse
To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears.
Ay, but she 's come to beg ; Warwick to give ;
She on his left side craving aid for Henry,
He on his right asking a wife for Edward.
She weeps, and says her Henry is depos'd ;
He smiles, and says his Edward is install'd ;
That she, poor \vretch, for grief can speak no
more,
Whiles Warwick tells his title, smooths the
wrong,
Inferrcth arguments of mighty strength,
52
Act III Scene 1
And, in conclusion, wins the king from her,
With promise of his sister, and what else,
To strengthen and support King Edward's place.
O Margaret, thus 'twill be ! and thou, poor
soul,
Alt then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.
2ncl Keeji. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of
kings and queens?
K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I
was born to :
A man at least, for less I could not be ;
And men may talk of kings, and why not I ?
2nd Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert
a king.
K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind ; and that's
enough.
2nd Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is
thy crown ?
K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my
head.
Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones,
Nor to be seen : my crown is call'd content ;
A ci'own it is that seldom kings enjoy.
2nd Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with
content,
Your crown content and you must be contented
To go along with us ; for, as we think.
You are the king King Edward hath depos'd,
And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,
Will apprehend you as his enemy.
K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break
an oath ?
2nd Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will
not now.
K. Hen. Where did you dwell when I was
King of England ?
53
Third Part of King Henry VI
2?id Keep. Here in this country, where we now
remain.
K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months
old,
My father and my grandfather were kings,
And you were sworn true subjects unto me ;
And tell me, then, have you not broke your
oaths ?
l.s^ Keep. No ;
For we were subjects but while you were king.
K. Hen. Why, am I dead ? do I not breathe,
a man
9
Ah, simple men ! you know not what you swear.
Look, as I blow this feather from my face.
And as the air blows it to me again,
Obeying with my wind when I do blow.
And yielding to another when it blows,
Commanded always by the greater gust,
Such is the lightness of you common men.
But do not break your oaths ; for of that sin
My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.
Go where you will, the king shall be commanded ;
And be you kings, command, and I'll obey.
\st Keep. We are true subjects to the king,
King Edward.
A'. Heix.. So would you be again to Henry
If he were seated as King Edward is.
Is/ Keep. AVe charge you, in God's name and
the king's,
To go with us unto the officers.
K. Hen. In God's name lead ; your king's
name be obey'd :
And what God will, that let your king perform ;
And what he will, I humbly yield unto.
\Exeunt.
54
Act III Scene 2
Scene 2.— The Palace.
Ervter King Edxcard, Gloster, Clarence, and
Lady Grey.
K. Edw. Brother of Gloster, at Saint Alban's
field
This lady's husband, Sir John Grey, was slain,
His lands then seiz'd on by the conqueror ;
Her suit is now to repossess these lands.
Which we in justice cannot well deny.
Because in quari-el of the house of York
The worthy gentleman did lose his life.
Glo. Your highness shall do well to grant her
suit ;
It were dishonour to deny it her.
K. Edw, It were no less ; but yet I '11 make a
pause.
Glo. [Aside to Clarence] Yea ; is it so ?
I see the lady hath a thing to grant,
Before the king will grant her humble suit.
Clar. [Aside to Gloster] He knows the game;
how true he keeps the wind !
Glo. [Aside to Clarence] Silence !
K. Edw. Widow, we will consider of our
suit,
And come some other time to know our mind.
L. Grey. Right gracious loi-d, I cannot brook
delay ;
May it please your highness to resolve me now,
And Avhat your pleasure is shall satisfy me.
Glo. [Aside to Clarence] Ay, widow? then
I'll warrant you all your lands,
An if what pleases him shall pleasure yo\i.
Fight closer, or, good faith, you '11 catch a blow.
Clar. [Aside to Gloster] I fear her not, unless
she chance to fall.
55
Third Part of King Henry VI
Glo. [Aside to Clarence] God forbid that, for
he'll take vantages.
K. Edw. How many children hast thou,
widow? tell me.
Clar. [Aside to Glostcr] I think he means to
bog a c-hild of her.
Glo. [Aside to Clarence] Nay, whip me then ;
he '11 rather give her two.
L. Grrjj. Three, my most gracious lord.
Glo. [Aside to Clarence] You shall have four
if you '11 be rul'd by him.
K. Edw. 'Twere pity they should lose their
father's lands.
L. Grey. Be pitiful, dreadlord, and grantitthen.
K. Edui. liords, give us leave ; I '11 try this
widow's wit.
Glo. [Aside to Clarence] Ay, good leave have
you ; for you will have leave,
Till youth take leave, and leave you to the crutch.
[Glnster and Cla 'ence stand apart.
K. Edtv. Now tell me, madam, do you love
your children ?
L. Grey. Ay, full as dearly as I love myself.
K. Edtc. And would you not do much to do
them good ?
L. Grey. To do them good I would sustain
some harm.
K. Edic. Then get your husband's lands to do
them good.
L. Grey. Therefore I came unto your majesty.
K. Edw. I '11 tell you how these lands are to
be got.
L. Grey. So shall you bind me to your high-
ness' service.
K. Edic. What service wilt thou do me if I
give them ?
s6
Act III Scene 2
L. Grey. What you command, that rests in me
to do.
K. Ediv. But you will take exceptions to my
boon.
L. Grey. No, gracious lord, except I cannot
do it.
K. Edu\ Ay, but thou canst do what I mean
to ask.
L. Grey. Why, then, I will do what your
grace commands.
Glo. He plies her hard ; and much rain wears
the marble.
CLar. As red as fire ! nay, then, her wax must
melt.
L. Grey. Why stops my lord? shall I not