Chapter 1

Executive Director's Notes:

In addition to the notes below, and so you will *NOT* think all the spelling errors introduced by the printers of the time have been corrected, here are the first few lines of Hamlet, as they are presented herein:

Barnardo. Who's there? Fran. Nay answer me: Stand & vnfold your selfe

Bar. Long liue the King

* * * * *

As I understand it, the printers often ran out of certain words or letters they had often packed into a "cliche". . .this is the original meaning of the term cliche. . .and thus, being unwilling to unpack the cliches, and thus you will see some substitutions that look very odd. . .such as the exchanges of u for v, v for u, above. . .and you may wonder why they did it this way, presuming Shakespeare did not actually write the play in this manner. . . .

The answer is that they MAY have packed "liue" into a cliche at a time when they were out of "v"'s. . .possibly having used "vv" in place of some "w"'s, etc. This was a common practice of the day, as print was still quite expensive, and they didn't want to spend more on a wider selection of characters than they had to.

You will find a lot of these kinds of "errors" in this text, as I have mentioned in other times and places, many "scholars" have an extreme attachment to these errors, and many have accorded them a very high place in the "canon" of Shakespeare. My father read an assortment of these made available to him by Cambridge University in England for several months in a glass room constructed for the purpose. To the best of my knowledge he read ALL those available . . .in great detail. . .and determined from the various changes, that Shakespeare most likely did not write in nearly as many of a variety of errors we credit him for, even though he was in/famous for signing his name with several different spellings.

So, please take this into account when reading the comments below made by our volunteer who prepared this file: you may see errors that are "not" errors. . . .

So. . .with this caveat. . .we have NOT changed the canon errors, here is the Project Gutenberg Etext of Shakespeare's The first Part of Henry the Sixt.

Michael S. Hart Project Gutenberg Executive Director

* * * * *

Scanner's Notes:

What this is and isn't. This was taken from a copy of Shakespeare's first folio and it is as close as I can come in ASCII to the printed text.

The elongated S's have been changed to small s's and the conjoined ae have been changed to ae. I have left the spelling, punctuation, capitalization as close as possible to the printed text. I have corrected some spelling mistakes (I have put together a spelling dictionary devised from the spellings of the Geneva Bible and Shakespeare's First Folio and have unified spellings according to this template), typo's and expanded abbreviations as I have come across them. Everything within brackets [] is what I have added. So if you don't like that you can delete everything within the brackets if you want a purer Shakespeare.

Another thing that you should be aware of is that there are textual differences between various copies of the first folio. So there may be differences (other than what I have mentioned above) between this and other first folio editions. This is due to the printer's habit of setting the type and running off a number of copies and then proofing the printed copy and correcting the type and then continuing the printing run. The proof run wasn't thrown away but incorporated into the printed copies. This is just the way it is. The text I have used was a composite of more than 30 different First Folio editions' best pages.

David Reed

=====================================================================

The third Part of Henry the Sixt

with the death of the Duke of Yorke

Actus Primus. Scoena Prima.

Alarum.

Enter Plantagenet, Edward, Richard, Norfolke, Mountague, Warwicke, and Souldiers.

Warwicke. I Wonder how the King escap'd our hands? Pl. While we pursu'd the Horsmen of y North, He slyly stole away, and left his men: Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland, Whose Warlike eares could neuer brooke retreat, Chear'd vp the drouping Army, and himselfe. Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford all a-brest Charg'd our maine Battailes Front: and breaking in, Were by the Swords of common Souldiers slaine

Edw. Lord Staffords Father, Duke of Buckingham, Is either slaine or wounded dangerous. I cleft his Beauer with a down-right blow: That this is true (Father) behold his blood

Mount. And Brother, here's the Earle of Wiltshires blood, Whom I encountred as the Battels ioyn'd

Rich. Speake thou for me, and tell them what I did

Plan. Richard hath best deseru'd of all my sonnes: But is your Grace dead, my Lord of Somerset? Nor. Such hope haue all the line of Iohn of Gaunt

Rich. Thus do I hope to shake King Henries head

Warw. And so doe I, victorious Prince of Yorke. Before I see thee seated in that Throne, Which now the House of Lancaster vsurpes, I vow by Heauen, these eyes shall neuer close. This is the Pallace of the fearefull King, And this the Regall Seat: possesse it Yorke, For this is thine, and not King Henries Heires

Plant. Assist me then, sweet Warwick, and I will, For hither we haue broken in by force

Norf. Wee'le all assist you: he that flyes, shall dye

Plant. Thankes gentle Norfolke, stay by me my Lords, And Souldiers stay and lodge by me this Night.

They goe vp.

Warw. And when the King comes, offer him no violence, Vnlesse he seeke to thrust you out perforce

Plant. The Queene this day here holds her Parliament, But little thinkes we shall be of her counsaile, By words or blowes here let vs winne our right

Rich. Arm'd as we are, let's stay within this House

Warw. The bloody Parliament shall this be call'd, Vnlesse Plantagenet, Duke of Yorke, be King, And bashfull Henry depos'd, whose Cowardize Hath made vs by-words to our enemies

Plant. Then leaue me not, my Lords be resolute, I meane to take possession of my Right

Warw. Neither the King, nor he that loues him best, The prowdest hee that holds vp Lancaster, Dares stirre a Wing, if Warwick shake his Bells. Ile plant Plantagenet, root him vp who dares: Resolue thee Richard, clayme the English Crowne.

Flourish. Enter King Henry, Clifford, Northumberland, Westmerland, Exeter, and the rest.

Henry. My Lords, looke where the sturdie Rebell sits, Euen in the Chayre of State: belike he meanes, Backt by the power of Warwicke, that false Peere, To aspire vnto the Crowne, and reigne as King. Earle of Northumberland, he slew thy Father, And thine, Lord Clifford, & you both haue vow'd reuenge On him, his sonnes, his fauorites, and his friends

Northumb. If I be not, Heauens be reueng'd on me

Clifford. The hope thereof, makes Clifford mourne in Steele

Westm. What, shall we suffer this? lets pluck him down, My heart for anger burnes, I cannot brooke it

Henry. Be patient, gentle Earle of Westmerland

Clifford. Patience is for Poultroones, such as he: He durst not sit there, had your Father liu'd. My gracious Lord, here in the Parliament Let vs assayle the Family of Yorke

North. Well hast thou spoken, Cousin be it so

Henry. Ah, know you not the Citie fauours them, And they haue troupes of Souldiers at their beck? Westm. But when the Duke is slaine, they'le quickly flye

Henry. Farre be the thought of this from Henries heart, To make a Shambles of the Parliament House. Cousin of Exeter, frownes, words, and threats, Shall be the Warre that Henry meanes to vse. Thou factious Duke of Yorke descend my Throne, And kneele for grace and mercie at my feet, I am thy Soueraigne

Yorke. I am thine

Exet. For shame come downe, he made thee Duke of Yorke

Yorke. It was my Inheritance, as the Earledome was

Exet. Thy Father was a Traytor to the Crowne

Warw. Exeter thou art a Traytor to the Crowne, In following this vsurping Henry

Clifford. Whom should hee follow, but his naturall King? Warw. True Clifford, that's Richard Duke of Yorke

Henry. And shall I stand, and thou sit in my Throne? Yorke. It must and shall be so, content thy selfe

Warw. Be Duke of Lancaster, let him be King

Westm. He is both King, and Duke of Lancaster, And that the Lord of Westmerland shall maintaine

Warw. And Warwick shall disproue it. You forget, That we are those which chas'd you from the field, And slew your Fathers, and with Colours spread Marcht through the Citie to the Pallace Gates

Northumb. Yes Warwicke, I remember it to my griefe, And by his Soule, thou and thy House shall rue it

Westm. Plantagenet, of thee and these thy Sonnes, Thy Kinsmen, and thy Friends, Ile haue more liues Then drops of bloud were in my Fathers Veines

Cliff. Vrge it no more, lest that in stead of words, I send thee, Warwicke, such a Messenger, As shall reuenge his death, before I stirre

Warw. Poore Clifford, how I scorne his worthlesse Threats

Plant. Will you we shew our Title to the Crowne? If not, our Swords shall pleade it in the field

Henry. What Title hast thou Traytor to the Crowne? My Father was as thou art, Duke of Yorke, Thy Grandfather Roger Mortimer, Earle of March. I am the Sonne of Henry the Fift, Who made the Dolphin and the French to stoupe, And seiz'd vpon their Townes and Prouinces

Warw. Talke not of France, sith thou hast lost it all

Henry. The Lord Protector lost it, and not I: When I was crown'd, I was but nine moneths old

Rich. You are old enough now, And yet me thinkes you loose: Father teare the Crowne from the Vsurpers Head

Edward. Sweet Father doe so, set it on your Head

Mount. Good Brother, As thou lou'st and honorest Armes, Let's fight it out, and not stand cauilling thus

Richard. Sound Drummes and Trumpets, and the King will flye

Plant. Sonnes peace

Henry. Peace thou, and giue King Henry leaue to speake

Warw. Plantagenet shal speake first: Heare him Lords, And be you silent and attentiue too, For he that interrupts him, shall not liue

Hen. Think'st thou, that I will leaue my Kingly Throne, Wherein my Grandsire and my Father sat? No: first shall Warre vnpeople this my Realme; I, and their Colours often borne in France, And now in England, to our hearts great sorrow, Shall be my Winding-sheet. Why faint you Lords? My Title's good, and better farre then his

Warw. Proue it Henry, and thou shalt be King

Hen. Henry the Fourth by Conquest got the Crowne

Plant. 'Twas by Rebellion against his King

Henry. I know not what to say, my Titles weake: Tell me, may not a King adopt an Heire? Plant. What then? Henry. And if he may, then am I lawfull King: For Richard, in the view of many Lords, Resign'd the Crowne to Henry the Fourth, Whose Heire my Father was, and I am his

Plant. He rose against him, being his Soueraigne, And made him to resigne his Crowne perforce

Warw. Suppose, my Lords, he did it vnconstrayn'd, Thinke you 'twere preiudiciall to his Crowne? Exet. No: for he could not so resigne his Crowne, But that the next Heire should succeed and reigne

Henry. Art thou against vs, Duke of Exeter? Exet. His is the right, and therefore pardon me

Plant. Why whisper you, my Lords, and answer not? Exet. My Conscience tells me he is lawfull King

Henry. All will reuolt from me, and turne to him

Northumb. Plantagenet, for all the Clayme thou lay'st, Thinke not, that Henry shall be so depos'd

Warw. Depos'd he shall be, in despight of all

Northumb. Thou art deceiu'd: 'Tis not thy Southerne power Of Essex, Norfolke, Suffolke, nor of Kent, Which makes thee thus presumptuous and prowd, Can set the Duke vp in despight of me

Clifford. King Henry, be thy Title right or wrong, Lord Clifford vowes to fight in thy defence: May that ground gape, and swallow me aliue, Where I shall kneele to him that slew my Father

Henry. Oh Clifford, how thy words reuiue my heart

Plant. Henry of Lancaster, resigne thy Crowne: What mutter you, or what conspire you Lords? Warw. Doe right vnto this Princely Duke of Yorke, Or I will fill the House with armed men, And ouer the Chayre of State, where now he sits, Write vp his Title with vsurping blood.

He stampes with his foot, and the Souldiers shew themselues.

Henry. My Lord of Warwick, heare but one word, Let me for this my life time reigne as King

Plant. Confirme the Crowne to me and to mine Heires, And thou shalt reigne in quiet while thou liu'st

Henry. I am content: Richard Plantagenet Enioy the Kingdome after my decease

Clifford. What wrong is this vnto the Prince, your Sonne? Warw. What good is this to England, and himselfe? Westm. Base, fearefull, and despayring Henry

Clifford. How hast thou iniur'd both thy selfe and vs? Westm. I cannot stay to heare these Articles

Northumb. Nor I

Clifford. Come Cousin, let vs tell the Queene these Newes

Westm. Farwell faint-hearted and degenerate King, In whose cold blood no sparke of Honor bides

Northumb. Be thou a prey vnto the House of Yorke, And dye in Bands, for this vnmanly deed

Cliff. In dreadfull Warre may'st thou be ouercome, Or liue in peace abandon'd and despis'd

Warw. Turne this way Henry, and regard them not

Exeter. They seeke reuenge, and therefore will not yeeld? Henry. Ah Exeter

Warw. Why should you sigh, my Lord? Henry. Not for my selfe Lord Warwick, but my Sonne, Whom I vnnaturally shall dis-inherite. But be it as it may: I here entayle The Crowne to thee and to thine Heires for euer, Conditionally, that heere thou take an Oath, To cease this Ciuill Warre: and whil'st I liue, To honor me as thy King, and Soueraigne: And neyther by Treason nor Hostilitie, To seeke to put me downe, and reigne thy selfe

Plant. This Oath I willingly take, and will performe

Warw. Long liue King Henry: Plantagenet embrace him

Henry. And long liue thou, and these thy forward Sonnes

Plant. Now Yorke and Lancaster are reconcil'd

Exet. Accurst be he that seekes to make them foes.

Senet. Here they come downe.

Plant. Farewell my gracious Lord, Ile to my Castle

Warw. And Ile keepe London with my Souldiers

Norf. And I to Norfolke with my followers

Mount. And I vnto the Sea, from whence I came

Henry. And I with griefe and sorrow to the Court. Enter the Queene.

Exeter. Heere comes the Queene, Whose Lookes bewray her anger: Ile steale away

Henry. Exeter so will I

Queene. Nay, goe not from me, I will follow thee

Henry. Be patient gentle Queene, and I will stay

Queene. Who can be patient in such extreames? Ah wretched man, would I had dy'de a Maid? And neuer seene thee, neuer borne thee Sonne, Seeing thou hast prou'd so vnnaturall a Father. Hath he deseru'd to loose his Birth-right thus? Hadst thou but lou'd him halfe so well as I, Or felt that paine which I did for him once, Or nourisht him, as I did with my blood; Thou would'st haue left thy dearest heart-blood there, Rather then haue made that sauage Duke thine Heire, And dis-inherited thine onely Sonne

Prince. Father, you cannot dis-inherite me: If you be King, why should not I succeede? Henry. Pardon me Margaret, pardon me sweet Sonne, The Earle of Warwick and the Duke enforc't me

Quee. Enforc't thee? Art thou King, and wilt be forc't? I shame to heare thee speake: ah timorous Wretch, Thou hast vndone thy selfe, thy Sonne, and me, And giu'n vnto the House of Yorke such head, As thou shalt reigne but by their sufferance. To entayle him and his Heires vnto the Crowne, What is it, but to make thy Sepulcher, And creepe into it farre before thy time? Warwick is Chancelor, and the Lord of Callice, Sterne Falconbridge commands the Narrow Seas, The Duke is made Protector of the Realme, And yet shalt thou be safe? Such safetie findes The trembling Lambe, inuironned with Wolues. Had I beene there, which am a silly Woman, The Souldiers should haue toss'd me on their Pikes, Before I would haue granted to that Act. But thou preferr'st thy Life, before thine Honor. And seeing thou do'st, I here diuorce my selfe, Both from thy Table Henry, and thy Bed, Vntill that Act of Parliament be repeal'd, Whereby my Sonne is dis-inherited. The Northerne Lords, that haue forsworne thy Colours, Will follow mine, if once they see them spread: And spread they shall be, to thy foule disgrace, And vtter ruine of the House of Yorke. Thus doe I leaue thee: Come Sonne, let's away, Our Army is ready; come, wee'le after them

Henry. Stay gentle Margaret, and heare me speake

Queene. Thou hast spoke too much already: get thee gone

Henry. Gentle Sonne Edward, thou wilt stay me? Queene. I, to be murther'd by his Enemies

Prince. When I returne with victorie to the field, Ile see your Grace: till then, Ile follow her

Queene. Come Sonne away, we may not linger thus

Henry. Poore Queene, How loue to me, and to her Sonne, Hath made her breake out into termes of Rage. Reueng'd may she be on that hatefull Duke, Whose haughtie spirit, winged with desire, Will cost my Crowne, and like an emptie Eagle, Tyre on the flesh of me, and of my Sonne. The losse of those three Lords torments my heart: Ile write vnto them, and entreat them faire; Come Cousin, you shall be the Messenger

Exet. And I, I hope, shall reconcile them all. Enter.

Flourish. Enter Richard, Edward, and Mountague.

Richard. Brother, though I bee youngest, giue mee leaue

Edward. No, I can better play the Orator

Mount. But I haue reasons strong and forceable. Enter the Duke of Yorke.

Yorke. Why how now Sonnes, and Brother, at a strife? What is your Quarrell? how began it first? Edward. No Quarrell, but a slight Contention

Yorke. About what? Rich. About that which concernes your Grace and vs, The Crowne of England, Father, which is yours

Yorke. Mine Boy? not till King Henry be dead

Richard. Your Right depends not on his life, or death

Edward. Now you are Heire, therefore enioy it now: By giuing the House of Lancaster leaue to breathe, It will out-runne you, Father, in the end

Yorke. I tooke an Oath, that hee should quietly reigne

Edward. But for a Kingdome any Oath may be broken: I would breake a thousand Oathes, to reigne one yeere

Richard. No: God forbid your Grace should be forsworne

Yorke. I shall be, if I clayme by open Warre

Richard. Ile proue the contrary, if you'le heare mee speake

Yorke. Thou canst not, Sonne: it is impossible

Richard. An Oath is of no moment, being not tooke Before a true and lawfull Magistrate, That hath authoritie ouer him that sweares. Henry had none, but did vsurpe the place. Then seeing 'twas he that made you to depose, Your Oath, my Lord, is vaine and friuolous. Therefore to Armes: and Father doe but thinke, How sweet a thing it is to weare a Crowne, Within whose Circuit is Elizium, And all that Poets faine of Blisse and Ioy. Why doe we linger thus? I cannot rest, Vntill the White Rose that I weare, be dy'de Euen in the luke-warme blood of Henries heart

Yorke. Richard ynough: I will be King, or dye. Brother, thou shalt to London presently, And whet on Warwick to this Enterprise. Thou Richard shalt to the Duke of Norfolke, And tell him priuily of our intent. You Edward shall vnto my Lord Cobham, With whom the Kentishmen will willingly rise. In them I trust: for they are Souldiors, Wittie, courteous, liberall, full of spirit. While you are thus imploy'd, what resteth more? But that I seeke occasion how to rise, And yet the King not priuie to my Drift, Nor any of the House of Lancaster.

Enter Gabriel.

But stay, what Newes? Why comm'st thou in such poste? Gabriel. The Queene, With all the Northerne Earles and Lords, Intend here to besiege you in your Castle. She is hard by, with twentie thousand men: And therefore fortifie your Hold, my Lord

Yorke. I, with my Sword. What? think'st thou, that we feare them? Edward and Richard, you shall stay with me, My Brother Mountague shall poste to London. Let Noble Warwicke, Cobham, and the rest, Whom we haue left Protectors of the King, With powrefull Pollicie strengthen themselues, And trust not simple Henry, nor his Oathes

Mount. Brother, I goe: Ile winne them, feare it not. And thus most humbly I doe take my leaue.

Exit Mountague.

Enter Mortimer, and his Brother.

York. Sir Iohn, and Sir Hugh Mortimer, mine Vnckles, You are come to Sandall in a happie houre. The Armie of the Queene meane to besiege vs

Iohn. Shee shall not neede, wee'le meete her in the field

Yorke. What, with fiue thousand men? Richard. I, with fiue hundred, Father, for a neede. A Woman's generall: what should we feare?

A March afarre off.

Edward. I heare their Drummes: Let's set our men in order, And issue forth, and bid them Battaile straight

Yorke. Fiue men to twentie: though the oddes be great, I doubt not, Vnckle, of our Victorie. Many a Battaile haue I wonne in France, When as the Enemie hath beene tenne to one: Why should I not now haue the like successe?

Alarum. Exit.

Enter Rutland, and his Tutor.

Rutland. Ah, whither shall I flye, to scape their hands? Ah Tutor, looke where bloody Clifford comes. Enter Clifford.

Clifford. Chaplaine away, thy Priesthood saues thy life. As for the Brat of this accursed Duke, Whose Father slew my Father, he shall dye

Tutor. And I, my Lord, will beare him company

Clifford. Souldiers, away with him

Tutor. Ah Clifford, murther not this innocent Child, Least thou be hated both of God and Man. Enter.

Clifford. How now? is he dead alreadie? Or is it feare, that makes him close his eyes? Ile open them

Rutland. So looks the pent-vp Lyon o're the Wretch, That trembles vnder his deuouring Pawes: And so he walkes, insulting o're his Prey, And so he comes, to rend his Limbes asunder. Ah gentle Clifford, kill me with thy Sword, And not with such a cruell threatning Looke. Sweet Clifford heare me speake, before I dye: I am too meane a subiect for thy Wrath, Be thou reueng'd on men, and let me liue

Clifford. In vaine thou speak'st, poore Boy: My Fathers blood hath stopt the passage Where thy words should enter

Rutland. Then let my Fathers blood open it againe, He is a man, and Clifford cope with him

Clifford. Had I thy Brethren here, their liues and thine Were not reuenge sufficient for me: No, if I digg'd vp thy fore-fathers Graues, And hung their rotten Coffins vp in Chaynes, It could not slake mine ire, nor ease my heart. The sight of any of the House of Yorke, Is as a furie to torment my Soule: And till I root out their accursed Line, And leaue not one aliue, I liue in Hell. Therefore- Rutland. Oh let me pray, before I take my death: To thee I pray; sweet Clifford pitty me

Clifford. Such pitty as my Rapiers point affords

Rutland. I neuer did thee harme: why wilt thou slay me? Clifford. Thy Father hath

Rutland. But 'twas ere I was borne. Thou hast one Sonne, for his sake pitty me, Least in reuenge thereof, sith God is iust, He be as miserably slaine as I. Ah, let me liue in Prison all my dayes, And when I giue occasion of offence, Then let me dye, for now thou hast no cause

Clifford. No cause? thy Father slew my Father: therefore dye

Rutland. Dij faciant laudis summa sit ista tuæ

Clifford. Plantagenet, I come Plantagenet: And this thy Sonnes blood cleauing to my Blade, Shall rust vpon my Weapon, till thy blood Congeal'd with this, doe make me wipe off both. Enter.

Alarum. Enter Richard, Duke of Yorke.