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| Character | King Henry VI | |
|---|---|---|
| Gender | Male | |
| Age Range(s) | Adult (36-50), Senior (>50) | |
| Type of monologue / Character is | Descriptive | |
| Type | Dramatic | |
| Period | Renaissance | |
| Genre | Historical, Drama | |
| Description | King Henry describes the battle | |
| Location | ACT II, Scene 5 | |
Summary
In the first scene of the play the Duke of York organizes a revolt against King Henry VI and wins. However, he promises King Henry VI that he will let him rule England until his death. The Duke of York will be his successor. York's sons, Edward and Richard, persuade their father to break his promise and seize the crown before Henry's death. York is persuaded to fight against Henry's army.
The two opposing sides fight and York is killed. In this monologue King Henry describes the battle sitting on top of a hill. He observes that the soldiers sway like the ocean, going back and forth. Margaret and Clifford have told him to stay away from the battle. He now considers how is life has been filled by grief and tragedy. He thinks if he had been a shepherd he would have enjoyed life more.
The two opposing sides fight and York is killed. In this monologue King Henry describes the battle sitting on top of a hill. He observes that the soldiers sway like the ocean, going back and forth. Margaret and Clifford have told him to stay away from the battle. He now considers how is life has been filled by grief and tragedy. He thinks if he had been a shepherd he would have enjoyed life more.
Written by Administrator
| Excerpt |
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| KING HENRY VI This battle fares like to the morning's war, When dying clouds contend with growing light, What time the shepherd, blowing of his nails, Can neither call it perfect day nor night. Now sways it this way, like a mighty sea Forced by the tide to combat with the wind; Now sways it that way, like the selfsame sea Forced to retire by fury of the wind: Sometime the flood prevails, and then the wind; Now one the better, then another best; Both tugging to be victors, breast to breast, Yet neither conqueror nor conquered: So is the equal of this fell war. Here on this molehill will I sit me down. To whom God will, there be the victory! For Margaret my queen, and Clifford too, Have chid me from the battle; swearing both They prosper best of all when I am thence. Would I were dead! if God's good will were so; For what is in this world but grief and woe? O God! methinks it were a happy life, To be no better than a homely swain; To sit upon a hill, as I do now, To carve out dials quaintly, point by point, Thereby to see the minutes how they run, How many make the hour full complete; How many hours bring about the day; How many days will finish up the year; How many years a mortal man may live. When this is known, then to divide the times: So many hours must I tend my flock; So many hours must I take my rest; So many hours must I contemplate; So many hours must I sport myself; So many days my ewes have been with young; So many weeks ere the poor fools will ean: So many years ere I shall shear the fleece: So minutes, hours, days, months, and years, Pass'd over to the end they were created, Would bring white hairs unto a quiet grave. Ah, what a life were this! how sweet! how lovely! Gives not the hawthorn-bush a sweeter shade To shepherds looking on their silly sheep, Than doth a rich embroider'd canopy To kings that fear their subjects' treachery? O, yes, it doth; a thousand-fold it doth. And to conclude, the shepherd's homely curds, His cold thin drink out of his leather bottle. His wonted sleep under a fresh tree's shade, All which secure and sweetly he enjoys, Is far beyond a prince's delicates, His viands sparkling in a golden cup, His body couched in a curious bed, When care, mistrust, and treason waits on him. |
