The Bodleian First Folio

A digital facsimile of the First Folio of Shakespeare's plays, Bodleian Arch. G c.7.



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Reference: p2r - Histories, p. 155

Left Column


The third Part of King Henry the Sixt. Rich. I like a Dastard, and a treacherous Coward, As thou didd'st kill our tender Brother Rutland, But ere Sunset, Ile make thee curse the deed. King. Haue done with words (my Lords) and heare me speake. Qu.
[925]
Defie them then, or els hold close thy lips.
King. I prythee giue no limits to my Tongue, I am a King, and priuiledg'd to speake. Clif. My Liege, the Wound that bred this meeting here, Cannot be cur'd by Words, therefore be still. Rich.
[930]
Then Executioner vnsheath thy sword: By him that made vs all, I am resolu'd, That Cliffords Manhood, lyes vpon his tongue.
Ed. Say Henry, shall I haue my right, or no: A thousand men haue broke their Fasts to day,
[935]
That ne're shall dine, vnlesse thou yeeld the Crowne.
War. If thou deny, their Blood vpon thy head, For Yorke in iustice put's his Armour on. Pr. Ed. If that be right, which Warwick saies is right, There is no vvrong, but euery thing is right. War.
[940]
Who euer got thee, there thy Mother stands, For well I vvot, thou hast thy Mothers tongue.
Qu. But thou art neyther like thy Sire nor Damme, But like a foule mishapen Stygmaticke, Mark'd by the Destinies to be auoided,
[945]
As venome Toades, or Lizards dreadfull stings.
Rich. Iron of Naples, hid with English gilt, Whose Father beares the Title of a King, (As if a Channell should be call'd the Sea) Sham'st thou not, knowing whence thou art extraught,
[950]
To let thy tongue detect thy base‑borne heart.
Ed. A wispe of straw were worth a thousand Crowns, To make this shamelesse Callet know her selfe: Helen of Greece was fayrer farre then thou, Although thy Husband may be Menelaus;
[955]
And ne're was Agamemnons Brother wrong'd By that false Woman, as this King by thee. His Father reuel'd in the heart of France, And tam'd the King, and made the Dolphin stoope: And had he match'd according to his State,
[960]
He might haue kept that glory to this day. But when he tooke a begger to his bed, And grac'd thy poore Sire with his Bridall day, Euen then that Sun‑shine brew'd a showre for him, That washt his Fathers fortunes forth of France,
[965]
And heap'd sedition on his Crowne at home: For what hath broach'd this tumult but thy Pride? Had'st thou bene meeke, our Title still had slept, And we in pitty of the Gentle King, Had slipt our Claime, vntill another Age.
Cla.
[970]
But when we saw, our Sunshine made thy Spring, And that thy Summer bred vs no increase, We set the Axe to thy vsurping Roote: And though the edge hath something hit our selues, Yet know thou, since we haue begun to strike,
[975]
Wee'l neuer leaue, till we haue hewne thee downe, Or bath'd thy growing, with our heated bloods.
Edw. And in this resolution, I defie thee, Not willing any longer Conference, Since thou denied'st the gentle King to speake.
[980]
Sound Trumpets, let our bloody Colours waue, And either Victorie, or else a Graue.
Qu. Stay Edward. Ed. No wrangling Woman, wee'l no longer stay, These words will cost ten thousand liues this day. Exeunt omnes.

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Right Column


[Act 2, Scene 3] Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke. War.
[985]
Fore‑spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race, I lay me downe a little while to breath: For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid, Haue robb'd my strong knit sinewes of their strength, And spight of spight, needs must I rest a‑while.
Enter Edward running. Ed.
[990]
Smile gentle heauen, or strike vngentle death, For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded.
War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of good? Enter Clarence. Cla. Our hap is losse, our hope but sad dispaire, Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs.
[995]
What counsaile giue you? whether shall we flye?
Ed. Bootlesse is flight, they follow vs with Wings, And weake we are, and cannot shun pursuite. Enter Richard. Rich. Ah Warwicke, why hast y u withdrawn thy selfe? Thy Brothers blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
[1000]
Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffords Launce: And in the very pangs of death, he cryde, Like to a dismall Clangor heard from farre, Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge my death. So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds,
[1005]
That stain'd their Fetlockes in his smoaking blood, The Noble Gentleman gaue vp the ghost.
War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: Ile kill my Horse, because I will not flye: Why stand we like soft‑hearted women heere,
[1010]
Wayling our losses, whiles the Foe doth Rage, And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors. Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue, Ile neuer pawse againe, neuer stand still,
[1015]
Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge.
Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chaine my soule to thine: I And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold face,
[1020]
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter vp, and plucker downe 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 heauen may ope,
[1025]
And giue sweet passage to my sinfull soule. Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe, Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth.
Rich. Brother, Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,
[1030]
Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes; I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo, That Winter should cut off our Spring‑time so.
War. Away, away: Once more sweet Lords farwell. Cla.
[1035]
Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes, And giue them leaue to flye, that will not stay: And call them Pillars that will stand to vs: And if we thriue, promise them such rewards As Victors weare at the Olympian Games.
[1040]
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of Life and Victory: p2 Fore­

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[Act 2, Scene 3] Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke. War.
[985]
Fore‑spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race, I lay me downe a little while to breath: For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid, Haue robb'd my strong knit sinewes of their strength, And spight of spight, needs must I rest a‑while.
Enter Edward running. Ed.
[990]
Smile gentle heauen, or strike vngentle death, For this world frownes, and Edwards Sunne is clowded.
War. How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of good? Enter Clarence. Cla. Our hap is losse, our hope but sad dispaire, Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs.
[995]
What counsaile giue you? whether shall we flye?
Ed. Bootlesse is flight, they follow vs with Wings, And weake we are, and cannot shun pursuite. Enter Richard. Rich. Ah Warwicke, why hast y u withdrawn thy selfe? Thy Brothers blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,
[1000]
Broach'd with the Steely point of Cliffords Launce: And in the very pangs of death, he cryde, Like to a dismall Clangor heard from farre, Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge my death. So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds,
[1005]
That stain'd their Fetlockes in his smoaking blood, The Noble Gentleman gaue vp the ghost.
War. Then let the earth be drunken with our blood: Ile kill my Horse, because I will not flye: Why stand we like soft‑hearted women heere,
[1010]
Wayling our losses, whiles the Foe doth Rage, And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors. Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue, Ile neuer pawse againe, neuer stand still,
[1015]
Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine, Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge.
Ed. Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine, And in this vow do chaine my soule to thine: I And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold face,
[1020]
I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee, Thou setter vp, and plucker downe 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 heauen may ope,
[1025]
And giue sweet passage to my sinfull soule. Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe, Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth.
Rich. Brother, Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,
[1030]
Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes; I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo, That Winter should cut off our Spring‑time so.
War. Away, away: Once more sweet Lords farwell. Cla.
[1035]
Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes, And giue them leaue to flye, that will not stay: And call them Pillars that will stand to vs: And if we thriue, promise them such rewards As Victors weare at the Olympian Games.
[1040]
This may plant courage in their quailing breasts, For yet is hope of Life and Victory: Foreslow no longer, make we hence amaine.
Exeunt
 

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   <head type="supplied">[Act 2, Scene 3]</head>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="mixed">Alarum. Excursions. Enter Warwicke.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-war">
      <speaker rend="italic">War.</speaker>
      <l n="985">Fore‑spent with Toile, as Runners with a Race,</l>
      <l n="986">I lay me downe a little while to breath:</l>
      <l n="987">For strokes receiu'd, and many blowes repaid,</l>
      <l n="988">Haue robb'd my strong knit sinewes of their strength,</l>
      <l n="989">And spight of spight, needs must I rest a‑while.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Edward running.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-ed4">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ed.</speaker>
      <l n="990">Smile gentle heauen, or strike vngentle death,</l>
      <l n="991">For this world frownes, and<hi rend="italic">Edwards</hi>Sunne is clowded.</l>
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   <sp who="#F-3h6-war">
      <speaker rend="italic">War.</speaker>
      <l n="992">How now my Lord, what happe? what hope of
      <lb/>good?</l>
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   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Clarence.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-cla">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cla.</speaker>
      <l n="993">Our hap is losse, our hope but sad dispaire,</l>
      <l n="994">Our rankes are broke, and ruine followes vs.</l>
      <l n="995">What counsaile giue you? whether shall we flye?</l>
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   <sp who="#F-3h6-ed4">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ed.</speaker>
      <l n="996">Bootlesse is flight, they follow vs with Wings,</l>
      <l n="997">And weake we are, and cannot shun pursuite.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic center" type="entrance">Enter Richard.</stage>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-ri3">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="998">Ah Warwicke, why hast y<c rend="superscript">u</c>withdrawn thy selfe?</l>
      <l n="999">Thy Brothers blood the thirsty earth hath drunk,</l>
      <l n="1000">Broach'd with the Steely point of<hi rend="italic">Cliffords</hi>Launce:</l>
      <l n="1001">And in the very pangs of death, he cryde,</l>
      <l n="1002">Like to a dismall Clangor heard from farre,</l>
      <l n="1003">Warwicke, reuenge; Brother, reuenge my death.</l>
      <l n="1004">So vnderneath the belly of their Steeds,</l>
      <l n="1005">That stain'd their Fetlockes in his smoaking blood,</l>
      <l n="1006">The Noble Gentleman gaue vp the ghost.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-war">
      <speaker rend="italic">War.</speaker>
      <l n="1007">Then let the earth be drunken with our blood:</l>
      <l n="1008">Ile kill my Horse, because I will not flye:</l>
      <l n="1009">Why stand we like soft‑hearted women heere,</l>
      <l n="1010">Wayling our losses, whiles the Foe doth Rage,</l>
      <l n="1011">And looke vpon, as if the Tragedie</l>
      <l n="1012">Were plaid in iest, by counterfetting Actors.</l>
      <l n="1013">Heere on my knee, I vow to God aboue,</l>
      <l n="1014">Ile neuer pawse againe, neuer stand still,</l>
      <l n="1015">Till either death hath clos'd these eyes of mine,</l>
      <l n="1016">Or Fortune giuen me measure of Reuenge.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-ed4">
      <speaker rend="italic">Ed.</speaker>
      <l n="1017">Oh Warwicke, I do bend my knee with thine,</l>
      <l n="1018">And in this vow do chaine my soule to thine:</l>
      <l n="1019">I And ere my knee rise from the Earths cold face,</l>
      <l n="1020">I throw my hands, mine eyes, my heart to thee,</l>
      <l n="1021">Thou setter vp, and plucker downe of Kings:</l>
      <l n="1022">Beseeching thee (if with thy will it stands)</l>
      <l n="1023">That to my Foes this body must be prey,</l>
      <l n="1024">Yet that thy brazen gates of heauen may ope,</l>
      <l n="1025">And giue sweet passage to my sinfull soule.</l>
      <l n="1026">Now Lords, take leaue vntill we meete againe,</l>
      <l n="1027">Where ere it be, in heauen, or in earth.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-ri3">
      <speaker rend="italic">Rich.</speaker>
      <l n="1028">Brother,</l>
      <l n="1029">Giue me thy hand, and gentle Warwicke,</l>
      <l n="1030">Let me imbrace thee in my weary armes;</l>
      <l n="1031">I that did neuer weepe, now melt with wo,</l>
      <l n="1032">That Winter should cut off our Spring‑time so.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-war">
      <speaker rend="italic">War.</speaker>
      <l n="1033">Away, away:</l>
      <l n="1034">Once more sweet Lords farwell.</l>
   </sp>
   <sp who="#F-3h6-cla">
      <speaker rend="italic">Cla.</speaker>
      <l n="1035">Yet let vs altogether to our Troopes,</l>
      <l n="1036">And giue them leaue to flye, that will not stay:</l>
      <l n="1037">And call them Pillars that will stand to vs:</l>
      <l n="1038">And if we thriue, promise them such rewards</l>
      <l n="1039">As Victors weare at the Olympian Games.</l>
      <l n="1040">This may plant courage in their quailing breasts,</l>
      <l n="1041">For yet is hope of Life and Victory:</l>
      <pb facs="FFimg:axc0512-0.jpg" n="156"/>
      <cb n="1"/>
      <l n="1042">Foreslow no longer, make we hence amaine.</l>
   </sp>
   <stage rend="italic rightJustified" type="exit">Exeunt</stage>
</div>

        
        

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