Henry VI, Part III by William Shakespeare (story books for 5 year olds txt) 📕
Description
The first battle of St. Alban’s is over and the White Rose faction is victorious. They have captured Henry VI and, after having threatened him with violence, secured the king’s promise of passing the crown to Edward Plantagenet after his death. Not willing to accept her son’s disinheritance, Queen Margaret decides to take matters into her own hands and declares war on the Yorkists.
Margaret’s forces invade Wakefield Castle, home to the Duke of York and his sons, and successfully capture York. The queen and Clifford taunt York and eventually stab him to death. York’s sons Edward and Richard receive news of their father’s death, vow to get their revenge, and plan to place Edward on the English throne.
This Standard Ebooks production is based on William George Clark and William Aldis Wright’s 1887 Victoria edition, which is taken from the Globe edition.
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- Author: William Shakespeare
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Let us assail the family of York. Northumberland Well hast thou spoken, cousin: be it so. King Henry
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.
He is both king and Duke of Lancaster;
And that the Lord of Westmoreland shall maintain.
And Warwick shall disprove it. You forget
That we are those which chased you from the field
And slew your fathers, and with colours spread
March’d through the city to the palace gates.
Yes, Warwick, I remember it to my grief;
And, by his soul, thou and thy house shall rue it.
Plantagenet, of thee and these thy sons,
Thy kinsman and thy friends, I’ll have more lives
Than drops of blood were in my father’s veins.
Urge it no more; lest that, instead of words,
I send thee, Warwick, such a messenger
As shall revenge his death before I stir.
Will you we show our title to the crown?
If not, our swords shall plead it in the field.
What title hast thou, traitor, to the crown?
Thy father was, as thou art, Duke of York;
Thy grandfather, Roger Mortimer, Earl of March:
I am the son of Henry the Fifth,
Who made the Dauphin and the French to stoop
And seized upon their towns and provinces.
The lord protector lost it, and not I:
When I was crown’d I was but nine months old.
You are old enough now, and yet, methinks, you lose.
Father, tear the crown from the usurper’s head.
Good brother, as thou lovest and honourest arms,
Let’s fight it out and not stand cavilling thus.
Plantagenet shall speak first: hear him, lords;
And be you silent and attentive too,
For he that interrupts him shall not live.
Think’st thou that I will leave my kingly throne,
Wherein my grandsire and my father sat?
No: first shall war unpeople this my realm;
Ay, and their colours, often borne in France,
And now in England to our heart’s great sorrow,
Shall be my winding-sheet. Why faint you, lords?
My title’s good, and better far than his.
Aside. I know not what to say; my title’s weak.—
Tell me, may not a king adopt an heir?
An if he may, then am I lawful king;
For Richard, in the view of many lords,
Resign’d the crown to Henry the Fourth,
Whose heir my father was, and I am his.
He rose against him, being his sovereign,
And made him to resign his crown perforce.
Suppose, my lords, he did it unconstrain’d,
Think you ’twere prejudicial to his crown?
No; for he could not so resign his crown
But that the next heir should succeed and reign.
Plantagenet, for all the claim thou lay’st,
Think not that Henry shall be so deposed.
Thou art deceived: ’tis not thy southern power,
Of Essex, Norfolk, Suffolk, nor of Kent,
Which makes thee thus presumptuous and proud,
Can set the duke up in despite of me.
King Henry, be thy title right or wrong,
Lord Clifford vows to fight in thy defence:
May that ground gape and swallow me alive,
Where I shall kneel to him that slew my father!
Henry of Lancaster, resign thy crown.
What mutter you, or what conspire you, lords?
Do right unto this princely Duke of York,
Or I will fill the house with armed men,
And over the chair of state, where now he sits,
Write up his title with usurping blood. He stamps with his foot, and the Soldiers show themselves.
My Lord of Warwick, hear me but one word:
Let me for this my life-time reign as king.
Confirm the crown to me and to mine heirs,
And thou shalt reign in quiet while thou livest.
I am content: Richard Plantagenet,
Enjoy the kingdom after my decease.
Farewell, faint-hearted and degenerate king,
In whose cold blood no spark of honour bides.
Be thou a prey unto the house of York,
And die in bands for this unmanly deed!
In dreadful war mayst thou be overcome,
Or live in peace abandon’d and despised! Exeunt Northumberland, Clifford, and Westmoreland.
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