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- $Unique_ID{SSP02373}
- $Title{King Henry VI, Part III: Act V, Scene II}
- $Author{Shakespeare, William}
- $Subject{}
- $Log{Dramatis Personae*02350.txt}
-
- Portions copyright (c) CMC ReSearch, Inc., 1989
-
- The Complete Works of William Shakespeare
-
- KING HENRY VI, PART III
- (written about 1591-92)
-
-
- ACT V
- ................................................................................
-
-
- SCENE II: A field of battle near Barnet.
- . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
-
- {Alarum and excursions. Enter KING EDWARD IV, bringing
- forth WARWICK wounded.}
-
- KING EDWARD IV: So, lie thou there: die thou, and die our fear;
- For Warwick was a bug that fear'd us all.
- Now, Montague, sit fast; I seek for thee,
- That Warwick's bones may keep thine company.
-
- [Exit.]
-
- WARWICK: Ah, who is nigh? come to me, friend or foe,
- And tell me who is victor, York or Warwick?
- Why ask I that? my mangled body shows,
- My blood, my want of strength, my sick heart shows.
- That I must yield my body to the earth
- And, by my fall, the conquest to my foe. 10
- Thus yields the cedar to the axe's edge,
- Whose arms gave shelter to the princely eagle,
- Under whose shade the ramping lion slept,
- Whose top-branch overpeer'd Jove's spreading tree
- And kept low shrubs from winter's powerful wind.
- These eyes, that now are dimm'd with death's black
- veil,
- Have been as piercing as the mid-day sun,
- To search the secret treasons of the world:
- The wrinkles in my brows, now filled with blood,
- Were liken'd oft to kingly sepulchres; 20
- For who lived king, but I could dig his grave?
- And who durst mine when Warwick bent his brow?
- Lo, now my glory smear'd in dust and blood!
- My parks, my walks, my manors that I had.
- Even now forsake me, and of all my lands
- Is nothing left me but my body's length.
- Why, what is pomp, rule, reign, but earth and dust?
- And, live we how we can, yet die we must.
-
- {Enter OXFORD and SOMERSET.}
-
- SOMERSET: Ah, Warwick, Warwick! wert thou as we are.
- We might recover all our loss again; 30
- The queen from France hath brought a puissant power:
- Even now we heard the news: ah, could'st thou fly!
-
- WARWICK: Why, then I would not fly. Ah, Montague,
- If thou be there, sweet brother, take my hand.
- And with thy lips keep in my soul awhile!
- Thou lovest me not; for, brother, if thou didst,
- Thy tears would wash this cold congealed blood
- That glues my lips and will not let me speak.
- Come quickly, Montague, or I am dead.
-
- SOMERSET: Ah, Warwick! Montague hath breathed his last; 40
- And to the latest gasp cried out for Warwick,
- And said 'Commend me to my valiant brother.'
- And more he would have said, and more he spoke,
- Which sounded like a clamour in a vault,
- That mought not be distinguished; but at last
- I well might hear, delivered with a groan,
- 'O, farewell, Warwick!'
-
- WARWICK: Sweet rest his soul! Fly, lords, and save yourselves;
- For Warwick bids you all farewell to meet in heaven.
-
- [Dies.]
-
- OXFORD: Away, away, to meet the queen's great power!
-
- [Here they bear away his body.
- Exeunt.]