The third Part of Henry the Sixt.
171
Rich.
Why should shee liue, to fill the World with words.
Why should shee liue, to fill the World with words.
Edw.
What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her recouerie.
What? doth shee swowne? vse meanes for her recouerie.
Rich.
Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother:
Ile hence to London on a serious matter,
Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes.
Clarence excuse me to the King my Brother:
Ile hence to London on a serious matter,
Ere ye come there, be sure to heare some newes.
Cla.
What? what?
What? what?
Rich.
Exit.Tower, the Tower.
Exit.Tower, the Tower.
Qu.
Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy.
Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers!
They that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all:
Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
If this foule deed were by, to equall it.
He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe,
And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe.
What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake,
And I will speake, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and Villaine, bloudy Caniballes,
How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:
You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,
The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse,
But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,
Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off.
As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince.
Oh Ned, sweet Ned, speake to thy Mother Boy.
Can'st thou not speake? O Traitors, Murtherers!
They that stabb'd Cæsar, shed no blood at all:
Did not offend, nor were not worthy Blame,
If this foule deed were by, to equall it.
He was a Man; this (in respect) a Childe,
And Men, ne're spend their fury on a Childe.
What's worse then Murtherer, that I may name it?
No, no, my heart will burst, and if I speake,
And I will speake, that so my heart may burst.
Butchers and Villaine, bloudy Caniballes,
How sweet a Plant haue you vntimely cropt:
You haue no children (Butchers) if you had,
The thought of them would haue stirr'd vp remorse,
But if you euer chance to haue a Childe,
Looke in his youth to haue him so cut off.
As deathsmen you haue rid this sweet yong Prince.
King.
Away with her, go beare her hence perforce.
Away with her, go beare her hence perforce.
Qu.
Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere:
Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:
What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou.
Nay, neuer beare me hence, dispatch me heere:
Here sheath thy Sword, Ile pardon thee my death:
What? wilt thou not? Then Clarence do it thou.
Cla.
By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease.
By heauen, I will not do thee so much ease.
Qu.
Good Clarence do: Sweet Clarence do thou do it.
Good Clarence do: Sweet Clarence do thou do it.
Cla.
Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?
Did'st thou not heare me sweare I would not do it?
Qu.
I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe.
'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity.
What wilt yu not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard?
Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed:
Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe.
I, but thou vsest to forsweare thy selfe.
'Twas Sin before, but now 'tis Charity.
What wilt yu not? Where is that diuels butcher Richard?
Hard fauor'd Richard? Richard, where art thou?
Thou art not heere; Murther is thy Almes-deed:
Petitioners for Blood, thou ne're put'st backe.
Ed.
Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence.
Away I say, I charge ye beare her hence.
Qu.
So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.
Exit Queene.
So come to you, and yours, as to this Prince.
Exit Queene.
Ed.
Where's Richard gone.
Where's Richard gone.
Cla.
To London all in post, and as I guesse,
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.
To London all in post, and as I guesse,
To make a bloody Supper in the Tower.
Ed.
He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence, discharge the common sort
With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,
And see our gentle Queene how well she fares,
Exit.By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.
He's sodaine if a thing comes in his head.
Now march we hence, discharge the common sort
With Pay and Thankes, and let's away to London,
And see our gentle Queene how well she fares,
Exit.By this (I hope) she hath a Sonne for me.
Enter Henry the sixt, and Richard, with the Lieutenant
on the Walles.
on the Walles.
Rich.
Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so hard?
Good day, my Lord, what at your Booke so hard?
Hen.
I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather,
Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better:
'Good Gloster and good Deuill, were alike,
And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord.
I my good Lord: my Lord I should say rather,
Tis sinne to flatter, Good was little better:
'Good Gloster and good Deuill, were alike,
And both preposterous: therefore, not Good Lord.
Rich.
Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre.
Sirra, leaue vs to our selues, we must conferre.
Hen.
So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from ye the Wolfe:
So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece,
And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.
What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte?
So flies the wreaklesse shepherd from ye the Wolfe:
So first the harmlesse Sheepe doth yeeld his Fleece,
And next his Throate, vnto the Butchers Knife.
What Scene of death hath Rossius now to Acte?
Rich.
Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde,
The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer,
Suspition alwayes haunts the guilty minde,
The Theefe doth feare each bush an Officer,
Hen.
The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush;
And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird,
Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,
Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.
The Bird that hath bin limed in a bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth euery bush;
And I the haplesse Male to one sweet Bird,
Haue now the fatall Obiect in my eye,
Where my poore yong was lim'd, was caught, and kill'd.
Rich.
Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet,
That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,
And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd.
Why what a peeuish Foole was that of Creet,
That taught his Sonne the office of a Fowle,
And yet for all his wings, the Foole was drown'd.
Hen.
I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus,
Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course,
The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy.
Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea
Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life:
Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,
My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point,
Then can my eares that Tragicke History.
But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?
I Dedalus, my poore Boy Icarus,
Thy Father Minos, that deni'de our course,
The Sunne that sear'd the wings of my sweet Boy.
Thy Brother Edward, and thy Selfe, the Sea
Whose enuious Gulfe did swallow vp his life:
Ah, kill me with thy Weapon, not with words,
My brest can better brooke thy Daggers point,
Then can my eares that Tragicke History.
But wherefore dost thou come? Is't for my Life?
Rich.
Think'st thou I am an Executioner?
Think'st thou I am an Executioner?
Hen.
A Persecutor I am sure thou art,
If murthering Innocents be Executing,
Why then thou art an Executioner.
A Persecutor I am sure thou art,
If murthering Innocents be Executing,
Why then thou art an Executioner.
Rich.
Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption.
Thy Son I kill'd for his presumption.
Hen.
Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first yu didst presume,
Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:
And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare,
And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,
And many an Orphans water-standing-eye,
Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,
Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,
Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.
The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe,
The Night-Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time,
Dogs howl'd, and hideous Tempest shook down Trees:
The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,
And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung:
Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,
And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope,
To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree.
Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,
To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world;
And if the rest be true, which I haue heard,
Thou cam'st———
Hadst thou bin kill'd, when first yu didst presume,
Thou had'st not liu'd to kill a Sonne of mine:
And thus I prophesie, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcell of my feare,
And many an old mans sighe, and many a Widdowes,
And many an Orphans water-standing-eye,
Men for their Sonnes, Wiues for their Husbands,
Orphans, for their Parents timeles death,
Shall rue the houre that euer thou was't borne.
The Owle shriek'd at thy birth, an euill signe,
The Night-Crow cry'de, aboding lucklesse time,
Dogs howl'd, and hideous Tempest shook down Trees:
The Rauen rook'd her on the Chimnies top,
And chatt'ring Pies in dismall Discords sung:
Thy Mother felt more then a Mothers paine,
And yet brought forth lesse then a Mothers hope,
To wit, an indigested and deformed lumpe,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly Tree.
Teeth had'st thou in thy head, when thou was't borne,
To signifie, thou cam'st to bite the world;
And if the rest be true, which I haue heard,
Thou cam'st———
Rich.
Ile heare no more:
Stabbes him.Dye Prophet in thy speech,
For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd.
Ile heare no more:
Stabbes him.Dye Prophet in thy speech,
For this (among'st the rest) was I ordain'd.
Hen.
I, and for much more slaughter after this,
Dyes.O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee.
I, and for much more slaughter after this,
Dyes.O God forgiue my sinnes, and pardon thee.
Rich.
What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted.
See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death.
O may such purple teares be alway shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house.
If any sparke of Life be yet remaining,
Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.
Stabs him againe.
I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare,
Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of:
For I haue often heard my Mother say,
I came into the world with my Legges forward.
Had I not reason (thinke ye) to make hast,
And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right?
The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de
O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth,
What? will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sinke in the ground? I thought it would haue mounted.
See how my sword weepes for the poore Kings death.
O may such purple teares be alway shed
From those that wish the downfall of our house.
If any sparke of Life be yet remaining,
Downe, downe to hell, and say I sent thee thither.
Stabs him againe.
I that haue neyther pitty, loue, nor feare,
Indeed 'tis true that Henrie told me of:
For I haue often heard my Mother say,
I came into the world with my Legges forward.
Had I not reason (thinke ye) to make hast,
And seeke their Ruine, that vsurp'd our Right?
The Midwife wonder'd, and the Women cri'de
O Iesus blesse vs, he is borne with teeth,
And
