Enter a MESSENGER

  MESSENGER. Prepare you, lords, for Edward is at hand
    Ready to fight; therefore be resolute.
  OXFORD. I thought no less. It is his policy
    To haste thus fast, to find us unprovided.
  SOMERSET. But he's deceiv'd; we are in readiness.
  QUEEN MARGARET. This cheers my heart, to see your forwardness.
  OXFORD. Here pitch our battle; hence we will not budge.

      Flourish and march. Enter, at a distance, KING EDWARD,
               GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and soldiers

  KING EDWARD. Brave followers, yonder stands the thorny wood
    Which, by the heavens' assistance and your strength,  
    Must by the roots be hewn up yet ere night.
    I need not add more fuel to your fire,
    For well I wot ye blaze to burn them out.
    Give signal to the fight, and to it, lords.
  QUEEN MARGARET. Lords, knights, and gentlemen, what I should
say
    My tears gainsay; for every word I speak,
    Ye see, I drink the water of my eye.
    Therefore, no more but this: Henry, your sovereign,
    Is prisoner to the foe; his state usurp'd,
    His realm a slaughter-house, his subjects slain,
    His statutes cancell'd, and his treasure spent;
    And yonder is the wolf that makes this spoil.
    You fight in justice. Then, in God's name, lords,
    Be valiant, and give signal to the fight.
                             Alarum, retreat, excursions. Exeunt




SCENE V.
Another part of the field

Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, GLOUCESTER, CLARENCE, and forces,
With QUEEN MARGARET, OXFORD, and SOMERSET, prisoners

  KING EDWARD. Now here a period of tumultuous broils.
    Away with Oxford to Hames Castle straight;
    For Somerset, off with his guilty head.
    Go, bear them hence; I will not hear them speak.
  OXFORD. For my part, I'll not trouble thee with words.
  SOMERSET. Nor I, but stoop with patience to my fortune.
                             Exeunt OXFORD and SOMERSET, guarded
  QUEEN MARGARET. So part we sadly in this troublous world,
    To meet with joy in sweet Jerusalem.
  KING EDWARD. Is proclamation made that who finds Edward
    Shall have a high reward, and he his life?
  GLOUCESTER. It is; and lo where youthful Edward comes.

                Enter soldiers, with PRINCE EDWARD
  
  KING EDWARD. Bring forth the gallant; let us hear him speak.
    What, can so young a man begin to prick?
    Edward, what satisfaction canst thou make
    For bearing arms, for stirring up my subjects,
    And all the trouble thou hast turn'd me to?
  PRINCE OF WALES. Speak like a subject, proud ambitious York.
    Suppose that I am now my father's mouth;
    Resign thy chair, and where I stand kneel thou,
    Whilst I propose the self-same words to the
    Which, traitor, thou wouldst have me answer to.
  QUEEN MARGARET. Ah, that thy father had been so resolv'd!
  GLOUCESTER. That you might still have worn the petticoat
    And ne'er have stol'n the breech from Lancaster.
  PRINCE OF WALES. Let Aesop fable in a winter's night;
    His currish riddle sorts not with this place.
  GLOUCESTER. By heaven, brat, I'll plague ye for that word.
  QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, thou wast born to be a plague to men.
  GLOUCESTER. For God's sake, take away this captive scold.
  PRINCE OF WALES. Nay, take away this scolding crookback rather.
  KING EDWARD. Peace, wilful boy, or I will charm your tongue.  
  CLARENCE. Untutor'd lad, thou art too malapert.
  PRINCE OF WALES. I know my duty; you are all undutiful.
    Lascivious Edward, and thou perjur'd George,
    And thou misshapen Dick, I tell ye all
    I am your better, traitors as ye are;
    And thou usurp'st my father's right and mine.
  KING EDWARD. Take that, the likeness of this railer here.
                                                     [Stabs him]
  GLOUCESTER. Sprawl'st thou? Take that, to end thy agony.
                                                     [Stabs him]
  CLARENCE. And there's for twitting me with perjury.
                                                     [Stabs him]
  QUEEN MARGARET. O, kill me too!
  GLOUCESTER. Marry, and shall.             [Offers to kill her]
  KING EDWARD. Hold, Richard, hold; for we have done to much.
  GLOUCESTER. Why should she live to fill the world with words?
  KING EDWARD. What, doth she swoon? Use means for her recovery.
  GLOUCESTER. Clarence, excuse me to the King my brother.
    I'll hence to London on a serious matter;
    Ere ye come there, be sure to hear some news.  
  CLARENCE. What? what?
  GLOUCESTER. The Tower! the Tower!                         Exit
  QUEEN MARGARET. O Ned, sweet Ned, speak to thy mother, boy!
    Canst thou not speak? O traitors! murderers!
    They that stabb'd Caesar shed no blood at all,
    Did not offend, nor were not worthy blame,
    If this foul deed were by to equal it.
    He was a man: this, in respect, a child;
    And men ne'er spend their fury on a child.
    What's worse than murderer, that I may name it?
    No, no, my heart will burst, an if I speak-
    And I will speak, that so my heart may burst.
    Butchers and villains! bloody cannibals!
    How sweet a plant have you untimely cropp'd!
    You have no children, butchers, if you had,
    The thought of them would have stirr'd up remorse.
    But if you ever chance to have a child,
    Look in his youth to have him so cut off
    As, deathsmen, you have rid this sweet young prince!
  KING EDWARD. Away with her; go, bear her hence perforce.  
  QUEEN MARGARET. Nay, never bear me hence; dispatch me here.
    Here sheathe thy sword; I'll pardon thee my death.
    What, wilt thou not? Then, Clarence, do it thou.
  CLARENCE. By heaven, I will not do thee so much ease.
  QUEEN MARGARET. Good Clarence, do; sweet Clarence, do thou do
it.
  CLARENCE. Didst thou not hear me swear I would not do it?
  QUEEN MARGARET. Ay, but thou usest to forswear thyself.
    'Twas sin before, but now 'tis charity.
    What! wilt thou not? Where is that devil's butcher,
    Hard-favour'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
    Thou art not here. Murder is thy alms-deed;
    Petitioners for blood thou ne'er put'st back.
  KING EDWARD. Away, I say; I charge ye bear her hence.
  QUEEN MARGARET. So come to you and yours as to this prince.
                                          Exit, led out forcibly
  KING EDWARD. Where's Richard gone?
  CLARENCE. To London, all in post; and, as I guess,
    To make a bloody supper in the Tower.
  KING EDWARD. He's sudden, if a thing comes in his head.
    Now march we hence. Discharge the common sort  
    With pay and thanks; and let's away to London
    And see our gentle queen how well she fares.
    By this, I hope, she hath a son for me.               Exeunt




SCENE VI.
London. The Tower

Enter KING HENRY and GLOUCESTER with the LIEUTENANT, on the walls

  GLOUCESTER. Good day, my lord. What, at your book so hard?
  KING HENRY. Ay, my good lord- my lord, I should say rather.
    'Tis sin to flatter; 'good' was little better.
    'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike,
    And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good lord.'
  GLOUCESTER. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves; we must confer.
                                                 Exit LIEUTENANT
  KING HENRY. So flies the reckless shepherd from the wolf;
    So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
    And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
    What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
  GLOUCESTER. Suspicion always haunts the guilty mind:
    The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
  KING HENRY. The bird that hath been limed in a bush
    With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;
    And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,  
    Have now the fatal object in my eye
    Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.
  GLOUCESTER. Why, what a peevish fool was that of Crete
    That taught his son the office of a fowl!
    And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd.
  KING HENRY. I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
    Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
    The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
    Thy brother Edward; and thyself, the sea
    Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
    Ah, kill me with thy weapon, not with words!
    My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
    Than can my ears that tragic history.
    But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my life?
  GLOUCESTER. Think'st thou I am an executioner?
  KING HENRY. A persecutor I am sure thou art.
    If murdering innocents be executing,
    Why, then thou are an executioner.
  GLOUCESTER. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
  KING HENRY. Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst
presume,  
    Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
    And thus I prophesy, that many a thousand
    Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
    And many an old man's sigh, and many a widow's,
    And many an orphan's water-standing eye-
    Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
    Orphans for their parents' timeless death-
    Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
    The owl shriek'd at thy birth- an evil sign;
    The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
    Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest shook down trees;
    The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
    And chatt'ring pies in dismal discords sung;
    Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
    And yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,
    To wit, an indigest deformed lump,
    Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
    Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast born,
    To signify thou cam'st to bite the world;
    And if the rest be true which I have heard,  
    Thou cam'st-
  GLOUCESTER. I'll hear no more. Die, prophet, in thy speech.
                                                     [Stabs him]
    For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
  KING HENRY. Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
    O, God forgive my sins and pardon thee!               [Dies]
  GLOUCESTER. What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
    Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
    See how my sword weeps for the poor King's death.
    O, may such purple tears be always shed
    From those that wish the downfall of our house!
    If any spark of life be yet remaining,
    Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither-
                                               [Stabs him again]
    I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
    Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of;
    For I have often heard my mother say
    I came into the world with my legs forward.
    Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste
    And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?  
    The midwife wonder'd; and the women cried
    'O, Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth!'
    And so I was, which plainly signified
    That I should snarl, and bite, and play the dog.
    Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body so,
    Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
    I have no brother, I am like no brother;
    And this word 'love,' which greybeards call divine,
    Be resident in men like one another,
    And not in me! I am myself alone.
    Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light,
    But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;
    For I will buzz abroad such prophecies
    That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
    And then to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
    King Henry and the Prince his son are gone.
    Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest;
    Counting myself but bad till I be best.
    I'll throw thy body in another room,
    And triumph, Henry, in thy day of doom.  
                                              Exit with the body




SCENE VII.
London. The palace

Flourish. Enter KING EDWARD, QUEEN ELIZABETH, CLARENCE,
GLOUCESTER,
HASTINGS, NURSE, with the Young PRINCE, and attendants

  KING EDWARD. Once more we sit in England's royal throne,
    Repurchas'd with the blood of enemies.
    What valiant foemen, like to autumn's corn,
    Have we mow'd down in tops of all their pride!
    Three Dukes of Somerset, threefold renown'd
    For hardy and undoubted champions;
    Two Cliffords, as the father and the son;
    And two Northumberlands- two braver men
    Ne'er spurr'd their coursers at the trumpet's sound;
    With them the two brave bears, Warwick and Montague,
    That in their chains fetter'd the kingly lion
    And made the forest tremble when they roar'd.
    Thus have we swept suspicion from our seat
    And made our footstool of security.
    Come hither, Bess, and let me kiss my boy.  
    Young Ned, for thee thine uncles and myself
    Have in our armours watch'd the winter's night,
    Went all afoot in summer's scalding heat,
    That thou might'st repossess the crown in peace;
    And of our labours thou shalt reap the gain.
  GLOUCESTER. [Aside] I'll blast his harvest if your head were
laid;
    For yet I am not look'd on in the world.
    This shoulder was ordain'd so thick to heave;
    And heave it shall some weight or break my back.
    Work thou the way- and that shall execute.
  KING EDWARD. Clarence and Gloucester, love my lovely queen;
    And kiss your princely nephew, brothers both.
  CLARENCE. The duty that I owe unto your Majesty
    I seal upon the lips of this sweet babe.
  KING EDWARD. Thanks, noble Clarence; worthy brother, thanks.
  GLOUCESTER. And that I love the tree from whence thou
sprang'st,
    Witness the loving kiss I give the fruit.
    [Aside] To say the truth, so Judas kiss'd his master
    And cried 'All hail!' when as he meant all harm.
  KING EDWARD. Now am I seated as my soul delights,  
    Having my country's peace and brothers' loves.
  CLARENCE. What will your Grace have done with Margaret?
    Reignier, her father, to the King of France
    Hath pawn'd the Sicils and Jerusalem,
    And hither have they sent it for her ransom.
  KING EDWARD. Away with her, and waft her hence to France.
    And now what rests but that we spend the time
    With stately triumphs, mirthful comic shows,
    Such as befits the pleasure of the court?
    Sound drums and trumpets. Farewell, sour annoy!
    For here, I hope, begins our lasting joy.             Exeunt


THE END





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End of this Etext of The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
THE THIRD PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH