KING HENRY VI
Hadst thou been kill'd when first thou didst presume,
Thou hadst not lived to kill a son of mine.
I prophesy, that many a thousand,
Which now mistrust no parcel of my fear,
And many an old man's sigh
and many a widow's,
And many an orphan's water-standing eye
Men for their sons, wives for their husbands,
orphans for their parents timeless death
Shall rue the hour that ever thou wast born.
The owl shriek'd
at thy birth, an evil sign;
The night-crow cried, aboding luckless time;
Dogs howl'd, and hideous tempest
shook down trees;
The raven rook'd her on the chimney's top,
And chattering pies in dismal discords sung.
mother felt more than a mother's pain,
And, yet brought forth less than a mother's hope,
To wit, an indigested
and deformed lump,
Not like the fruit of such a goodly tree.
Teeth hadst thou in thy head when thou wast
To signify thou camest to bite the world:
And, if the rest be true which I have heard,
I'll hear no more: die, prophet in thy speech:
For this amongst the rest, was I ordain'd.
KING HENRY VI
Ay, and for much more slaughter after this.
God forgive my sins, and pardon thee!
What, will the aspiring blood of Lancaster
Sink in the ground? I thought it would have mounted.
my sword weeps for the poor king's death!
O, may such purple tears be alway shed
From those that wish
the downfall of our house!
If any spark of life be yet remaining,
Down, down to hell; and say I sent thee
Stabs him again
I, that have neither pity, love, nor fear.
Indeed, 'tis true that Henry told me of;
For I have often heard my
I came into the world with my legs forward:
Had I not reason, think ye, to make haste,
seek their ruin that usurp'd our right?
The midwife wonder'd and the women cried
'O, Jesus bless us, he
is born with teeth!'
And so I was; which plainly signified
That I should snarl and bite and play the dog.
since the heavens have shaped my body so,
Let hell make crook'd my mind to answer it.
I have no brother,
I am like no brother;
And this word 'love,' which graybeards call divine,
Be resident in men like one another
not in me: I am myself alone.
Clarence, beware; thou keep'st me from the light:
But I will sort a pitchy day
For I will buz abroad such prophecies
That Edward shall be fearful of his life,
And then, to purge
his fear, I'll be thy death.
King Henry and the prince his son are gone:
Clarence, thy turn is next, and then
Counting myself but bad till I be best.
I'll throw thy body in another room
And triumph, Henry, in
thy day of doom.
Exit, with the body
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