King Henry VI

ACT II I.

SCENE I.

A chase in the north of England.

Enter TWO KEEPERS, with cross-bows in their hands.

1 Keep. Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves;

For through this laund1 anon the deer will come; And in this covert will we make our stand,

Culling the principal of all the deer.

"2 Keep. I'll stay above the hill; so both may

shoot.

"1 Keep. That cannot be; the noise of thy cross

bow

"Will scare the herd, and so my shoot is lost. "Here stand we both, and aim we at the best:

And, for the time shall not seem tedious,

"I'll tell thee what befel me on a day,

"In this self-place where now we mean to stand.

2 Keep. Here comes a man; let's stay till he

be past.

Enter KING HENRY disguised, with a prayer-book. K. Hen. From Scotland am I stolen, even of pure love,

A laund is a plain extended between woods.

SHAK.

་

To greet mine own land with my wishful sight. 'No, Harry, Harry, 'tis no land of thine: "Thy place is fill'd; thy sceptre wrung from thee: Thy balm wash'd off, wherewith thou wast anointed:

No bending knee will call thee Cæsar now,

No humble suitors press to speak for right,

No, not a man comes for redress of thee;

For how can I help them, and not myself?

1 Keep. Ay, here's a deer, whose skin's a keeper's fee:

This is the quondam king; let's seise upon him. "K. Hen. Let me embrace these sour adversities; "For wise men say, it is the wisest course.

"2 Keep. Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him.

"1 Keep. Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little

more.

K. Hen. My queen and son are gone to France

for aid;

And, as I hear, the great commanding Warwick 'Is thither gone, to crave the French king's sister To wife for Edward. If this news be true,

'Poor queen and son, your labor is but lost;

For Warwick is a subtle orator,

'And Lewis a prince soon won with moving words. By this account, then, Margaret may win him; 'For she's a woman to be pitied much : "Her sighs will make a battery in his breast; "Her tears will pierce into a marble heart; "The tiger will be mild while she doth mourn;

"And Nero will be tainted with remorse,

"To hear and see her plaints, her brinish tears.

Ay, but she's come to beg, Warwick to give: She, on his left side, craving aid for Henry: He, on his right, asking a wife for Edward. She weeps, and says-her Henry is deposed; He smiles, and says—his Edward is install'd; "That she, poor wretch, for grief can speak no

"Whiles Warwick tells his title, smoothes the

wrong,

"Inferreth arguments of mighty strength;

And, in conclusion, wins the king from her, "With promise of his sister, and what else, "To strengthen and support king Edward's place. "O Margaret, thus 'twill be; and thou, poor soul, "Art then forsaken, as thou went'st forlorn.

2 Keep. Say, what art thou, that talk'st of kings and queens?

'K. Hen. More than I seem, and less than I was

born to:

A man at least, for less I should not be ;

And men may talk of kings, and why not I?

2 Keep. Ay, but thou talk'st as if thou wert a

king.

'K. Hen. Why, so I am, in mind; and that's enough.

2 Keep. But, if thou be a king, where is thy

crown?

K. Hen. My crown is in my heart, not on my

head;

Not deck'd with diamonds and Indian stones, "Nor to be seen: my crown is call'd Content, A crown it is, that seldom kings enjoy.

2 Keep. Well, if you be a king crown'd with

content,

Your crown content, and you, must be contented

To go along with us; for, as we think,

'You are the king king Edward hath deposed; And we his subjects, sworn in all allegiance,

• Will apprehend you as his enemy.

"K. Hen. But did you never swear, and break an

oath ?

"2 Keep. No, never such an oath, nor will not

now.

"K. Hen. Where did you dwell, when I was king of England?

"2 Keep. Here in this country, where we now remain.

"K. Hen. I was anointed king at nine months

old;

My father and my grandfather were kings;

"And you were sworn true subjects unto me:

And, tell me then, have you not broke your oaths?

"1 Keep. No;

For we were subjects, but while you were king.

K. Hen. Why, am I dead? do I not breathe a man?

Ah, simple men, you know not what you swear.

Look, as I blow this feather from my face,

And as the air blows it to me again,

Obeying with my wind when I do blow, "And yielding to another when it blows, "Commanded always by the greater gust; "Such is the lightness of you common men. "But do not break your oaths; for, of that sin My mild entreaty shall not make you guilty.