William Shakespeare's Third Part of King Henry the Sixth in the complete original text.
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Third Part of King Henry the Sixth

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Act V. Scene VI.

Scene VI.— London. A Room in the Tower.

KING HENRY is discovered sitting with a book
in his hand, the Lieutenant attending.

Enter GLOUCESTER.

Glo. Good day, my lord. What! at your book
so hard?
K. Hen. Ay, my good lord:—my lord, I should
say rather;
'Tis sin to natter, 'good' was little better:
'Good Gloucester' and 'good devil' were alike,
And both preposterous; therefore, not 'good
lord.'
Glo. Sirrah, leave us to ourselves: we must
confer. [Exit Lieutenant.
K. Hen. So flies the reckless shepherd from
the wolf;
So first the harmless sheep doth yield his fleece,
And next his throat unto the butcher's knife.
What scene of death hath Roscius now to act?
Glo. Suspicion always haunts the guilty
mind;
The thief doth fear each bush an officer.
K. Hen. The bird that hath been limed in a
bush,
With trembling wings misdoubteth every bush;
And I, the hapless male to one sweet bird,
Have now the fatal object in my eye
Where my poor young was lim'd, was caught,
and kill'd.
Glo. Why, what a peevish fool was that of
Crete,
That taught his son the office of a fowl!
And yet, for all his wings, the fool was drown'd
K. Hen. I, Dædalus; my poor boy, Icarus;
Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;
The sun, that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy,
Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea,
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life.
Ah! kill me with thy weapon, not with words.
My breast can better brook thy dagger's point
Than can my ears that tragic history.
But wherefore dost thou come? is't for my life?
Glo. Think'st thou I am an executioner?
K. Hen. A persecutor, I am sure, thou art:
If murd'ring innocents be executing,
Why, then thou art an executioner.
Glo. Thy son I kill'd for his presumption.
K. Hen. Hadst thou been kill'd, when first
thou didst presume,
Thou hadst not liv'd to kill a son of mine.
And thus I prophesy: that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
And many an old man's sigh, and many a
widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye,
Men for their sons', wives for their husbands'
And orphans for their parents' timeless death,
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd,and hideous tempest shook down
trees!
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
Thy mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And yet brought forth less than a mother's
hope;
To wit an indigest deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast
born, |
To signify thou cam'st to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
Thou cam'st—
Glo. I'll hear no more: die, prophet, in thy
speech: [Stabs him.
For this, amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
K. Hen. Ay, and for much more slaughter
after this.
O, God forgive my sins, and pardon thee! [Dies
Glo. What! will the aspiring blood of Lan
caster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have
mounted.
See how my sword weeps for the poor king's
death!
O! may such purple tears be always shed
From those that wish the downfall of our
house.
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee thither,
[Stabs him again.
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 'tis true, that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my mother say
I came into the world with my legs forward.
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
And seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd, and the women cried
'O! Jesus bless us, he is born with teeth.'
And so I was; which plainly signified
That I should snarl and bite and play the dog.
Then, since the heavens have shap'd my body
so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother, I am like no brother;
And this word 'love,' which greybeards call
divine,
Be resident in men like one another
And not in me: I am myself alone.
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the
light:
But I will sort a pitchy day for thee;
For I will buzz abroad such prophecies
That Edward shall be fearful of his life;
And then, to purge his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then the rest,
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I'll throw thy body in another room,
And triumph. Henry, in thy day of doom.
[Exit with the body.
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