Scene: England and France.

Henry VI, Part III

Act I

Scene I

London. The Parliament-house.

While we pursued the horsemen of the north,
He slyly stole away and left his men:
Whereat the great Lord of Northumberland,
Whose warlike ears could never brook retreat,
Cheer’d up the drooping army; and himself,
Lord Clifford and Lord Stafford, all abreast,
Charged our main battle’s front, and breaking in
Were by the swords of common soldiers slain.

Lord Stafford’s father, Duke of Buckingham,
Is either slain or wounded dangerously;
I cleft his beaver with a downright blow:
That this is true, father, behold his blood.

And, brother, here’s the Earl of Wiltshire’s blood,
Whom I encounter’d as the battles join’d.

Richard hath best deserved of all my sons.
But is your grace dead, my Lord of Somerset?

And so do I. Victorious Prince of York,
Before I see thee seated in that throne
Which now the house of Lancaster usurps,
I vow by heaven these eyes shall never close.
This is the palace of the fearful king,
And this the regal seat: possess it, York;
For this is thine and not King Henry’s heirs’.

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

Thanks, gentle Norfolk: stay by me, my lords;
And, soldiers, stay and lodge by me this night. They go up.

And when the king comes, offer him no violence,
Unless he seek to thrust you out perforce.

The queen this day here holds her parliament,
But little thinks we shall be of her council:
By words or blows here let us win our right.

The bloody parliament shall this be call’d,
Unless Plantagenet, Duke of York, be king,
And bashful Henry deposed, whose cowardice
Hath made us by-words to our enemies.

Then leave me not, my lords; be resolute;
I mean to take possession of my right.

Neither the king, nor he that loves him best,
The proudest he that holds up Lancaster,
Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shake his bells.
I’ll plant Plantagenet, root him up who dares:
Resolve thee, Richard; claim the English crown.

My lords, look where the sturdy rebel sits,
Even in the chair of state: belike he means,
Back’d by the power of Warwick, that false peer,
To aspire unto the crown and reign as king.
Earl of Northumberland, he slew thy father,
And thine, Lord Clifford; and you both have vow’d revenge
On him, his sons, his favourites and his friends.

What, shall we suffer this? let’s pluck him down:
My heart for anger burns; I cannot brook it.

Patience is for poltroons, such as he:
He durst not sit there, had your father lived.
My gracious lord, here in the parliament
Let us assail the family of York.

Ah, know you not the city favours them,
And they have troops of soldiers at their beck?

Far be the thought of this from Henry’s heart,
To make a shambles of the parliament-house!
Cousin of Exeter, frowns, words and threats
Shall be the war that Henry means to use.
Thou factious Duke of York, descend my throne,
and kneel for grace and mercy at my feet;
I am thy sovereign.

Exeter, thou art a traitor to the crown
In following this usurping Henry.