Henry VI, Part I quotes

His sparking eyes, replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech: He ne’er lift up his hand but conquered.

We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood?

Henry is dead and never shall revive: Upon a wooden coffin we attend, And death’s dishonourable victory We with our stately presence glorify, Like captives bound to a triumphant car. What! shall we curse the planets of mishap That plotted thus our glory’s overthrow?

Gloucester, whate’er we like, thou art protector And lookest to command the prince and realm. Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe, More than God or religious churchmen may.

Name not religion, for thou lovest the flesh, And ne’er throughout the year to church thou go’st Except it be to pray against thy foes.

Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace: Let’s to the altar: heralds, wait on us: Instead of gold, we’ll offer up our arms; Since arms avail not now that Henry’s dead.

Gloucester, why doubt’st thou of my forwardness?

An army have I muster’d in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun.

My gracious lords, to add to your laments, Wherewith you now bedew King Henry’s hearse, I must inform you of a dismal fight Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.

Let’s leave this town; for they are hare-brain’d slaves, And hunger will enforce them to be more eager: Of old I know them; rather with their teeth The walls they’ll tear down than forsake the siege.

I think, by some odd gimmors or device Their arms are set like clocks, stiff to strike on; Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do.

By my consent, we’ll even let them alone.

He may mean more than we poor men do know:

These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.

My lord, where are you? what devise you on? Shall we give over Orleans, or no?

Assign’d am I to be the English scourge. This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise: Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days, Since I have entered into these wars.

Glory is like a circle in the water, Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.

With Henry’s death the English circle ends; Dispersed are the glories it included. Now am I like that proud insulting ship Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once.

… citizens, One that still motions war and never peace, O’ercharging your free purses with large fines, That seeks to overthrow religion, Because he is protector of the realm, And would have armour here out of the Tower, To crown himself king and suppress the prince.

I will not answer thee with words, but blows.

Here they skirmish again.

See the coast clear’d, and then we will depart.

Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear! I myself fight not once in forty year.

Exeunt.

Where is my strength, my valour, and my force? Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them;

A woman clad in armour chaseth them.

Here, here she comes. I’ll have a bout with thee; Devil or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee: Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch, And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest.

Sergeant, you shall. Exit Sergeant.

Thus are poor servitors, When others sleep upon their quiet beds, Constrain’d to watch in darkness, rain and cold.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and forces, with scaling-ladders, their drums beating a dead march.

Coward of France! how much he wrongs his fame, Despairing of his own arm’s fortitude, To join with witches and the help of hell!

Traitors have never other company.

But what’s that Pucelle whom they term so pure?

I’ll be so bold to take what they have left.

The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; For I have loaden me with many spoils, Using no other weapon but his name.

Exit.

No, truly; it is more than manners will: And

I have heard it said, unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Well then, alone, since there’s no remedy, I mean to prove this lady’s courtesy. Come hither, captain. Whispers. You perceive my mind?

Then say at once if I maintain’d the truth; Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error?

Faith, I have been a truant in the law, And never yet could frame my will to it; And therefore frame the law unto my will.

Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us.

Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:

The truth appears so naked on my side That any purblind eye may find it out.

And on my side it is so well apparell’d, So clear, so shining and so evident That it will glimmer through a blind man’s eye.

Then for the truth and plainness of the case, I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, Giving my verdict on the white rose side.

Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red And fall on my side so, against your will.

If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt And keep me on the side where still I am.

Prick not your finger as you pluck it off, Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red And fall on my side so, against your will.

If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt And keep me on the side where still I am.

Well, well, come on: who else?

Thanks, gentle sir. Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say

This quarrel will drink blood another day.

Exeunt.

O, what a scandal is it to our crown, That two such noble peers as ye should jar! Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell

Civil dissension is a viperous worm That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.

A noise within, “Down with the tawny-coats!” What tumult’s this?

Sweet king! the bishop hath a kindly gird. For shame, my lord of Winchester, relent!

What, shall a child instruct you what to do?

Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee; Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.

Now will it best avail your majesty To cross the seas and to be crown’d in France:

The presence of a king engenders love Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends, As it disanimates his enemies.

When Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes; For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

When Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes;

For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

Your ships already are in readiness. Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but Exeter.

Dismay not, princes, at this accident, Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered:

Care is no cure, but rather corrosive, For things that are not to be remedied.

Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while And like a peacock sweep along his tail; We’ll pull his plumes and take away his train, If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled.

Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out, Though ne’er so cunningly you smother it.

Good Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men, When for so slight and frivolous a cause Such factious emulations shall arise!

Good cousins both, of York and Somerset, Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.

But howsoe’er, no simple man that sees This jarring discord of nobility, This shouldering of each other in the court, This factious bandying of their favourites, But that it doth presage some ill event.

’Tis much when sceptres are in children’s hands; But more when envy breeds unkind division; There comes the rain, there begins confusion.

Exit.

So doth the swan her downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings. Yet, if this servile usage once offend, Go and be free again as Suffolk’s friend. She is going. O, stay! I have no power to let her pass;

My hand would free her, but my heart says no.

As plays the sun upon the glassy streams, Twinkling another counterfeited beam, So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak: I’ll call for pen and ink, and write my mind. Fie, de la Pole!

Why speak’st thou not? what ransom must I pay?

She’s beautiful and therefore to be woo’d; She is a woman, therefore to be won.

Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, or no.

Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?

To be a queen in bondage is more vile Than is a slave in base servility; For princes should be free.

And so shall you, If happy England’s royal king be free.