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Another part of the field.
[Alarum. Enter KING HENRY VI alone]
KING HENRY VI
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This bat|tle fares | like to | the morn|ing's
war,
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When dy|ing clouds | contend,| with grow|ing
light,
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What time | the shep|herd blow|ing of | his
nails,
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Can neith|er call | it per|fect day,| nor night.
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Now* sways | it this | way*, like | a migh|ty sea,
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Forced by | the tide,| to com|bat with | the
wind:
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Now* sways it | that way, like the | selfsame sea,
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Forced to | retire | by fu|ry of | the wind.
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*Sometime,| the flood | prevails;| and then | the
wind:
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Now, one the bet|ter: then,| anoth|er best;
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Both tug/ging to | be vict|ors, breast | to
breast:
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Yet neith|er con|queror,| nor con|quered.
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So is | the e|qual poise | of this / fell war.
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Here^on | this mole|hill* will | I sit | me down,
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To whom | God* will,| there be | the vict|ory:
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For Marg|aret | my queen,| and Clif|ford too
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Have chid | me from | the bat|tle: swear|ing both,
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They pros|per best | of all | when I | am thence.
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Would I | were dead,| if God's | good* will |
were so;
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For what | is in | this world,| but grief | and
woe.
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O God!| Methinks | it were | a hap|py life,
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To be | no bet|ter than | a home|ly swain,
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To sit | upon | a hill,| as I | do now,
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To carve | out di|als quaint|ly, point | by
point,
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Thereby | to see | the min|utes how | they run:
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How ma|ny make | the hou|r full | complete,
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How ma|ny hou|rs bring | about | the day,
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How ma|ny days | will fin|ish up | the year,
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How ma|ny years | a mort|al man | may live.
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When this | is known,| then to | divide | the
times.
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So ma|ny hou|rs, must | I tend | my flock;
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So ma|ny hou|rs, must | I take | my rest:
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So ma|ny hou|rs, must | I con|template:
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So ma|ny hou|rs, must | I sport | myself:
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So ma|ny days,| my ewes | have been | with young:
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So ma|ny weeks,| ere the / poor fools | will ean:
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So ma|ny years,| ere^I | shall shear | the
fleece:
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So min|utes, hou|rs, days,| months, and | years,
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Passed^||over | to the | end they | were
cre|ated,
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Would bring | white hairs, un|to a qui|et grave.
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Ah! What a | life were | this? How | sweet? How |
lovely?
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Gives not the haw|thorn^bush | a sweet|er shade
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To shep|herds look|ing on | their sil|ly sheep,
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Than doth | a rich | embroid|ered can|opy
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To kings,| that fear | their sub|jects'
treach/ery?
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Oh yes,| it doth;| a thous|and-fold | it doth.
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And to | conclude,| the shep|herd's home|ly
curds,
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His cold | thin drink out | of his leath|er
bottle,
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His wont|ed sleep,| under a | fresh tree's shade,
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All which | secure,| and sweet|ly he | enjoys,
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Is far | beyond | a prin|ce's del|icates:
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His vi|ands spark|ling in | a gold|en cup,
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His bo|dy couch|ed in | a cur|ious bed,
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When care,| mistrust,| and treas|on waits | on
him.
[Alarum. Enter a Son that has killed his father, dragging in the dead body]
SON
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Ill blows the wind | that prof|its no|body,
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This man,| whom hand | to hand | I slew | in
fight,
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May be | posses|sed with | some store | of
crowns,
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And I | that (hap|ly) take | them from | him now,
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May yet |(ere night)| yield^both | my life | and
them
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To some | man^else,| as^this dead man | doth me.
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Who's^this?| O God!| It is | my fath|er's face,
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Whom^in | this con|flict I (unwares)| have
killed:
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O hea|vy times!| Beget|ting such | events.
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From Lon|don, by | the king | was I / pressed
forth,
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My fath|er be|ing the Earl | of War|wick's man,
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Came on the | part of | York, pressed / by his |
master:
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And I,| who at | his hands | received | my life,
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Have by | my hands, of life | bereav|ed him.
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Pardon | me God,| I knew | not* what | I did:
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And pard|on fath|er, for | I knew | not^thee.
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My tears | shall wipe | away | these bloo|dy
marks:
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And no | more* words,| till they | have flowed |
their fill.
KING HENRY VI
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O pit|eous spec|tacle!| O bloo|dy times!
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Whiles^li|ons war,| and bat|tle for | their dens,
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Poor* harm|less^lambs | abide | their en|mity.
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Weep wretched man:| I'll aid | thee tear | for
tear,
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And let | our hearts | and eyes,| like civ|il
war,
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Be blind | with tears,| and break | orecharged |
with grief.
[Enter a Father that has killed his son, bringing in the body]
FATHER
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Thou that | so* stout|ly hast | resist|ed me,
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Give me | thy gold,| if thou | hast an|y gold:
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For I | have bought | it with | a hund|red blows.
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But let | me see:| is this | our foe|man's face?
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Ah, no, no, | no, it is | mine^on|ly son.
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Ah boy,| if an|y life | be left | in thee,
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Throw^up | thine^eye:| see*, see,| what showers
| arise, ??
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Blown with | the wind|y temp|est of | my heart,
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Upon | thy words,| that kill | mine eye,| and
heart.
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O pi|ty God,| this mis|era|ble age!
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What strat|agems?| How fell?| How butch|erly?
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Erron|eous, mut|inous | and un|natural,
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This dead|ly quar|rel dai|ly doth | beget?
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O boy!| thy fath|er gave | thee life | too soon,
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And hath | bereft | thee of | thy life | too
late.
KING HENRY VI
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Woe above woe:| grief, more*| than com|mon grief
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O that | my death | would stay | these ruth|ful
deeds:
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O pi|ty, pi|ty, gent|le heaven,| pity:
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The red | rose and | the white | are on | his
face,
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The fatal | colors | of our | striving | houses:
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The one,| his pur|ple blood | right well
re|sembles,
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The oth|er his pale | cheeks (me|thinks)
pres|enteth:
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Wither | one rose, and let | the oth|er
flourish:
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If you con|tend, a | thousand | lives must
| wither.
SON
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How will | my moth|er, for | a fath|er's death
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Take^on | with me,| and nere | be sat|isfied?
FATHER
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How will | my wife,| for slaught|er of | my son,
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Shed^seas | of tears,| and nere | be sat|isfied?
KING HENRY VI
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How will the | country,| for these | woeful |
chances,
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Misthink | the king,| and not | be sat|isfied?
SON
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Was ev|er son,| so rued | a fath|er's death?
FATHER
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Was ev|er fath|er so | bemoaned | his son?
KING HENRY VI
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Was ev|er king | so grieved | for sub|jects'^woe?
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Much is your | sorrow;| mine, ten times | so
much.
SON
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I'll bear | thee hence,| where^I | may weep | my
fill.
[Exit with the body]
FATHER
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These^arms | of mine | shall be | thy
wind|ing-sheet:
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My heart |(sweet* boy)| shall be | thy
sep|ulchre,
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For from | my heart,| thine im|age nere | shall
go.
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My sigh|ing breast,| shall be | thy fun|eral
bell;
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And so | obse|quious will | thy fath|er be,
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Even | for the loss | of thee,| having | no more,
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As Pri|am was | for all | his val|iant sons,
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I'll bear | thee hence,| and let | them fight | that
will,
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For I | have murd|ered where | I should | not
kill.
[Exit with the body]
KING HENRY VI
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Sad-hearted men,| much ov|ergone | with care;
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Here sits a king,| more* woe|ful than / you are.
[Alarums: excursions. Enter QUEEN MARGARET, PRINCE EDWARD, and EXETER]
PRINCE EDWARD
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Fly father, fly:| for all | your friends | are
fled,
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And War|wick rag|es like | a chaf|ed bull:
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Away,| for death | doth hold | us in | pursuit.
QUEEN MARGARET
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Mount you | my lord,| towards Ber|wick post |
amain:
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Edward and | Richard | like a | brace of
greyhounds,
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Having | the fear|ful fly|ing hare | in sight,
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With fie|ry eyes,| sparkling | for ve|ry wrath,
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And bloo|dy steel | grasped in | their ire|ful
hands
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Are at | our backs,| and there|fore hence |
amain.
EXETER
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Away:| for venge|ance comes | along | with them.
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Nay, stay not | to expos|tulate,| make* speed,
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Or else | come^aft|er, I'll | away | before.
KING HENRY VI
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Nay* take | me with | thee, good | sweet^Ex|eter:
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Not that | I fear | to stay,| but love | to go
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Whither | the queen | intends.| Forward,| away.
[Exeunt]