| ACT II SCENE V | Another part of the field. | |
| [Alarum. Enter KING HENRY VI alone] |
| KING HENRY VI | This battle fares like to the morning's war, |
| When dying clouds contend with growing light, |
| What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, |
| Can neither call it perfect day nor night. |
| Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea | 5 |
| Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; |
| Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea |
| Forced to retire by fury of the wind: |
| Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; |
| Now one the better, then another best; | 10 |
| Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, |
| Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: |
| So is the equal of this fell war. |
| Here on this molehill will I sit me down. |
| To whom God will, there be the victory! | 15 |
| For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, |
| Have chid me from the battle; swearing both |
| They prosper best of all when I am thence. |
| Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; |
| For what is in this world but grief and woe? | 20 |
| O God! methinks it were a happy life, |
| To be no better than a homely swain; |
| To sit upon a hill, as I do now, |
| To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, |
| Thereby to see the minutes how they run, | 25 |
| How many make the hour full complete; |
| How many hours bring about the day; |
| How many days will finish up the year; |
| How many years a mortal man may live. |
| When this is known, then to divide the times: | 30 |
| So many hours must I tend my flock; |
| So many hours must I take my rest; |
| So many hours must I contemplate; |
| So many hours must I sport myself; |
| So many days my ewes have been with young; | 35 |
| So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean: |
| So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: |
| So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, |
| Pass'd over to the end they were created, |
| Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. | 40 |
| Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! |
| Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade |
| To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, |
| Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy |
| To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? | 45 |
| O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. |
| And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, |
| His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. |
| His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, |
| All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, | 50 |
| Is far beyond a prince's delicates, |
| His viands sparkling in a golden cup, |
| His body couched in a curious bed, |
| When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. |
| [
Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father,
dragging in the dead body
] |
| Son | Ill blows the wind that profits nobody. | 55 |
| This man, whom hand to hand I slew in fight, |
| May be possessed with some store of crowns; |
| And I, that haply take them from him now, |
| May yet ere night yield both my life and them |
| To some man else, as this dead man doth me. | 60 |
| Who's this? O God! it is my father's face, |
| Whom in this conflict I unwares have kill'd. |
| O heavy times, begetting such events! |
| From London by the king was I press'd forth;
|
| My father, being the Earl of Warwick's man, | 65 |
| Came on the part of York, press'd by his master; |
| And I, who at his hands received my life, him |
| Have by my hands of life bereaved him. |
| Pardon me, God, I knew not what I did! |
| And pardon, father, for I knew not thee! | 70 |
| My tears shall wipe away these bloody marks; |
| And no more words till they have flow'd their fill. |
| KING HENRY VI | O piteous spectacle! O bloody times! |
| Whiles lions war and battle for their dens, |
| Poor harmless lambs abide their enmity. | 75 |
| Weep, wretched man, I'll aid thee tear for tear; |
| And let our hearts and eyes, like civil war, |
| Be blind with tears, and break o'ercharged with grief. |
| [Enter a Father that has killed his son, bringing in the body] |
| Father | Thou that so stoutly hast resisted me, |
| Give me thy gold, if thou hast any gold: | 80 |
| For I have bought it with an hundred blows. |
| But let me see: is this our foeman's face? |
| Ah, no, no, no, it is mine only son! |
| Ah, boy, if any life be left in thee, |
| Throw up thine eye! see, see what showers arise, | 85 |
| Blown with the windy tempest of my heart, |
| Upon thy words, that kill mine eye and heart! |
| O, pity, God, this miserable age! |
| What stratagems, how fell, how butcherly, |
| Erroneous, mutinous and unnatural, | 90 |
| This deadly quarrel daily doth beget! |
| O boy, thy father gave thee life too soon, |
| And hath bereft thee of thy life too late! |
| KING HENRY VI | Woe above woe! grief more than common grief! |
| O that my death would stay these ruthful deeds! | 95 |
| O pity, pity, gentle heaven, pity! |
| The red rose and the white are on his face, |
| The fatal colours of our striving houses: |
| The one his purple blood right well resembles; |
| The other his pale cheeks, methinks, presenteth: | 100 |
| Wither one rose, and let the other flourish; |
| If you contend, a thousand lives must wither. |
| Son | How will my mother for a father's death |
| Take on with me and ne'er be satisfied! |
| Father | How will my wife for slaughter of my son | 105 |
| Shed seas of tears and ne'er be satisfied! |
| KING HENRY VI | How will the country for these woful chances |
| Misthink the king and not be satisfied! |
| Son | Was ever son so rued a father's death? |
| Father | Was ever father so bemoan'd his son? | 110 |
| KING HENRY VI | Was ever king so grieved for subjects' woe? |
| Much is your sorrow; mine ten times so much. |
| Son | I'll bear thee hence, where I may weep my fill. |
| [Exit with the body] |
| Father | These arms of mine shall be thy winding-sheet; |
| My heart, sweet boy, shall be thy sepulchre, | 115 |
| For from my heart thine image ne'er shall go; |
| My sighing breast shall be thy funeral bell; |
| And so obsequious will thy father be, |
| Even for the loss of thee, having no more, |
| As Priam was for all his valiant sons. | 120 |
| I'll bear thee hence; and let them fight that will, |
| For I have murdered where I should not kill. |
| [Exit with the body] |
| KING HENRY VI | Sad-hearted men, much overgone with care, |
| Here sits a king more woful than you are. |
| [
Alarums: excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE
EDWARD, and EXETER
] |
| PRINCE EDWARD | Fly, father, fly! for all your friends are fled, | 125 |
| And Warwick rages like a chafed bull: |
| Away! for death doth hold us in pursuit. |
| QUEEN MARGARET | Mount you, my lord; towards Berwick post amain: |
| Edward and Richard, like a brace of greyhounds |
| Having the fearful flying hare in sight, | 130 |
| With fiery eyes sparkling for very wrath, |
| And bloody steel grasp'd in their ireful hands, |
| Are at our backs; and therefore hence amain. |
| EXETER | Away! for vengeance comes along with them: |
| Nay, stay not to expostulate, make speed; | 135 |
| Or else come after: I'll away before. |
| KING HENRY VI | Nay, take me with thee, good sweet Exeter: |
| Not that I fear to stay, but love to go |
| Whither the queen intends. Forward; away! |
[Exeunt] |
The Essential Student History Quiz (with answers and illustrations)