Act 3 - Scene 1
A forest in the north of England.
Enter two Keepers, with cross-bows in their hands First Keeper
Under this thick-grown brake we'll shroud ourselves; For through this laund anon the deer will come; And
in this covert will we make our stand, Culling the principal of all the deer. Second Keeper
I'll stay above the hill, so both may shoot. First Keeper
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 befell me on a
day In this self-place where now we mean to stand. Second Keeper
Here comes a man; let's stay till he be past.
Enter KING HENRY VI, disguised, with a prayerbook KING HENRY VI
From Scotland am I stol'n, even of pure love, 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 Caesar 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? First Keeper
Ay, here's a deer whose skin's a keeper's fee: This is the quondam king; let's seize upon him. KING HENRY VI
Let me embrace thee, sour adversity, For wise men say it is the wisest course. Second Keeper
Why linger we? let us lay hands upon him. First Keeper
Forbear awhile; we'll hear a little more. KING HENRY VI
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
labour 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 whiles 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
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By PanEris
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