 | King Henry VI |  |
PROLOGUE:
Spoken by Mr. Theophilus Cibber.
To-night
, a patient Ear, ye Britons lend,
And to your Great Forefathers Deeds attend!
Here, cheaply warn'd, ye blest Descendants, view
What Ills, on England, Civil Discords drew.
To wound the Heart, the warring Muse prepares,
While the Red Scene with Raging Slaughter glares.
And to your Great Forefathers Deeds attend!
Here, cheaply warn'd, ye blest Descendants, view
What Ills, on England, Civil Discords drew.
To wound the Heart, the warring Muse prepares,
While the Red Scene with Raging Slaughter glares.
Here, while a Monarch's Sufferings we relate,
Let Generous Grief his Ruin'd Grandeur wait.
While Second Richard's Blood for Vengeance calls,
Doom'd for his Grandsire's Guilt, poor Henry falls.
In Storms of Wrath, Avenging Judgment blows,
And Royal Wrongs entail a People's Woes.
Henry, unvers'd in Wiles, more Good than Great,
Drew on, by Meekness, his Disast'rous Fate.
Let Generous Grief his Ruin'd Grandeur wait.
While Second Richard's Blood for Vengeance calls,
Doom'd for his Grandsire's Guilt, poor Henry falls.
In Storms of Wrath, Avenging Judgment blows,
And Royal Wrongs entail a People's Woes.
Henry, unvers'd in Wiles, more Good than Great,
Drew on, by Meekness, his Disast'rous Fate.
Thus, when you see this Land by Faction tost,
Her Nobles slain, her Laws, her Freedom lost:
Let this Reflection from the Action flow,
That Foreign Foes could never make us bow.
While to our selves w'are true, The World must own,
England can never be, but by her Self, Undone.
Her Nobles slain, her Laws, her Freedom lost:
Let this Reflection from the Action flow,
That Foreign Foes could never make us bow.
While to our selves w'are true, The World must own,
England can never be, but by her Self, Undone.
| King Henry VI | |