Henry VI, Part III - William Shakespeare (little bear else holmelund minarik .TXT) 📗
- Author: William Shakespeare
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To help King Edward in his time of storm,
As every loyal subject ought to do.
Thanks, good Montgomery; but we now forget
Our title to the crown and only claim
Our dukedom till God please to send the rest.
Then fare you well, for I will hence again:
I came to serve a king and not a duke.
Drummer, strike up, and let us march away. The drum begins to march.
Nay, stay, Sir John, awhile, and we’ll debate
By what safe means the crown may be recover’d.
What talk you of debating? in few words,
If you’ll not here proclaim yourself our king,
I’ll leave you to your fortune and be gone
To keep them back that come to succour you:
Why shall we fight, if you pretend no title?
When we grow stronger, then we’ll make our claim:
Till then, ’tis wisdom to conceal our meaning.
And fearless minds climb soonest unto crowns.
Brother, we will proclaim you out of hand;
The bruit thereof will bring you many friends.
Then be it as you will; for ’tis my right,
And Henry but usurps the diadem.
Ay, now my sovereign speaketh like himself;
And now will I be Edward’s champion.
Sound trumpet; Edward shall be here proclaim’d:
Come, fellow-soldier, make thou proclamation. Flourish.
And whosoe’er gainsays King Edward’s right,
By this I challenge him to single fight. Throws down his gauntlet.
Thanks, brave Montgomery; and thanks unto you all:
If fortune serve me, I’ll requite this kindness.
Now, for this night, let’s harbour here in York;
And when the morning sun shall raise his car
Above the border of this horizon,
We’ll forward towards Warwick and his mates;
For well I wot that Henry is no soldier.
Ah, froward Clarence! how evil it beseems thee,
To flatter Henry and forsake thy brother!
Yet, as we may, we’ll meet both thee and Warwick.
Come on, brave soldiers: doubt not of the day,
And, that once gotten, doubt not of large pay. Exeunt.
London. The palace.
Flourish. Enter King Henry, Warwick, Montague, Clarence, Exeter, and Oxford. WarwickWhat counsel, lords? Edward from Belgia,
With hasty Germans and blunt Hollanders,
Hath pass’d in safety through the narrow seas,
And with his troops doth march amain to London;
And many giddy people flock to him.
A little fire is quickly trodden out;
Which, being suffer’d, rivers cannot quench.
In Warwickshire I have true-hearted friends,
Not mutinous in peace, yet bold in war;
Those will I muster up: and thou, son Clarence,
Shalt stir up in Suffolk, Norfolk and in Kent,
The knights and gentlemen to come with thee:
Thou, brother Montague, in Buckingham,
Northampton and in Leicestershire, shalt find
Men well inclined to hear what thou command’st:
And thou, brave Oxford, wondrous well beloved,
In Oxfordshire shalt muster up thy friends.
My sovereign, with the loving citizens,
Like to his island girt in with the ocean,
Or modest Dian circled with her nymphs,
Shall rest in London till we come to him.
Fair lords, take leave and stand not to reply.
Farewell, my sovereign.
Sweet Oxford, and my loving Montague,
And all at once, once more a happy farewell.
Here at the palace I will rest awhile.
Cousin of Exeter, what thinks your lordship?
Methinks the power that Edward hath in field
Should not be able to encounter mine.
That’s not my fear; my meed hath got me fame:
I have not stopp’d mine ears to their demands,
Nor posted off their suits with slow delays;
My pity hath been balm to heal their wounds,
My mildness hath allay’d their swelling griefs,
My mercy dried their water-flowing tears;
I have not been desirous of their wealth,
Nor much oppress’d them with great subsidies,
Nor forward of revenge, though they much err’d:
Then why should they love Edward more than me?
No, Exeter, these graces challenge grace:
And when the lion fawns upon the lamb,
The lamb will never cease to follow him. Shout within, “A Lancaster! A Lancaster!”
Seize on the shame-faced Henry, bear him hence;
And once again proclaim us King of England.
You are the fount that makes small brooks to flow:
Now stops thy spring; my sea shall suck them dry,
And swell so much the higher by their ebb.
Hence with him to the Tower; let him not speak. Exeunt some with King Henry.
And, lords, towards Coventry bend we our course,
Where peremptory Warwick now remains:
The sun shines hot; and, if we use delay,
Cold biting winter mars our hoped-for hay.
Away betimes, before his forces join,
And take the great-grown traitor unawares:
Brave warriors, march amain towards Coventry. Exeunt.
Coventry.
Enter Warwick, the Mayor of Coventry, two Messengers, and others upon the walls. WarwickWhere is the post that came from valiant Oxford?
How far hence is thy lord, mine honest fellow?
How far off is our brother Montague?
Where is the post that came from Montague?
Say, Somerville, what says my loving son?
And, by thy guess, how nigh is Clarence now?
At Southam I did leave him with his forces,
And do expect
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