Henry VI, Part III - William Shakespeare (little bear else holmelund minarik .TXT) 📗
- Author: William Shakespeare
Book online «Henry VI, Part III - William Shakespeare (little bear else holmelund minarik .TXT) 📗». Author William Shakespeare
By William Shakespeare.
Table of Contents Titlepage Imprint Dramatis Personae Henry VI, Part III Act I Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Act II Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Scene V Scene VI Act III Scene I Scene II Scene III Act IV Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Scene V Scene VI Scene VII Scene VIII Act V Scene I Scene II Scene III Scene IV Scene V Scene VI Scene VII Colophon Uncopyright ImprintThis ebook is the product of many hours of hard work by volunteers for Standard Ebooks, and builds on the hard work of other literature lovers made possible by the public domain.
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Dramatis PersonaeKing Henry the Sixth
Edward, Prince of Wales, his son
Lewis XI King of France
Duke of Somerset
Duke of Exeter
Earl of Oxford
Earl of Northumberland
Earl of Westmoreland
Lord Clifford
Richard Plantagenet, Duke of York
Edward, Earl of March, afterwards King Edward IV, his son
Edmund, Earl of Rutland, his son
George, afterwards Duke of Clarence, his son
Richard, afterwards Duke of Gloucester, his son
Duke of Norfolk
Marquess of Montague
Earl of Warwick
Earl of Pembroke
Lord Hastings
Lord Stafford
Sir John Mortimer, uncle to the Duke of York
Sir Hugh Mortimer, uncle to the Duke of York
Henry, Earl of Richmond, a youth
Lord Rivers, brother to Lady Grey
Sir William Stanley
Sir John Montgomery
Sir John Somerville
Tutor to Rutland. Mayor of York
Lieutenant of the Tower. A nobleman
Two Keepers. A huntsman
A son that has killed his father
A father that has killed his son
Queen Margaret
Lady Grey, afterwards Queen to Edward IV
Bona, sister to the French Queen
Soldiers, attendants, messengers, watchmen, etc.
Scene: England and France.
Henry VI, Part III Act I Scene ILondon. The Parliament-house.
Alarum. Enter the Duke of York, Edward, Richard, Norfolk, Montague, Warwick, and Soldiers. Warwick I wonder how the king escaped our hands. YorkWhile we pursued the horsemen of the north,
He slyly stole away and left his men:
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheer’d up the drooping army; and himself,
Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
Charged our main battle’s front, and breaking in
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.
Lord Stafford’s father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either slain or wounded dangerously;
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow:
That this is true, father, behold his blood.
And, brother, here’s the Earl of Wiltshire’s blood,
Whom I encounter’d as the battles join’d.
Richard hath best deserved of all my sons.
But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?
And so do I. Victorious Prince of York,
Before I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
This is the palace of the fearful king,
And this the regal seat: possess it, York;
For this is thine and not King Henry’s heirs’.
Assist me, then, sweet Warwick, and I will;
For hither we have broken in by force.
Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, my lords;
And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. They go up.
And when the king comes, offer him no violence,
Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.
The queen this day here holds her parliament,
But little thinks we shall be of her council:
By words or blows here let us win our right.
The bloody parliament shall this be call’d,
Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king,
And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice
Hath made us by-words to our enemies.
Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute;
I mean to take possession of my right.
Neither the king, nor he that loves him best,
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.
I’ll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares:
Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.
My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits,
Even in the chair of state: belike he means,
Back’d by the power of Warwick, that false peer,
To aspire unto the crown and reign as king.
Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father,
And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow’d revenge
On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends.
What, shall we suffer this? let’s pluck him down:
My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it.
Patience is for poltroons, such as he:
He durst not sit there, had your father lived.
My gracious lord, here in
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