SCENE 6.

ORLEANS

Flourish. Enter on the walls, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES,

REIGNIER, ALENCON, and soldiers

PUCELLE. Advance our waving colours on the walls;

Rescu'd is Orleans from the English.

Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.

CHARLES. Divinest creature, Astraea's daughter,

How shall I honour thee for this success?

Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens,

That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next.

France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess.

Recover'd is the town of Orleans.

More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.

REIGNIER. Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the

town?

Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires

And feast and banquet in the open streets

To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

ALENCON. All France will be replete with mirth and joy

When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.

CHARLES. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;

For which I will divide my crown with her;

And all the priests and friars in my realm

Shall in procession sing her endless praise.

A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear

Than Rhodope's of Memphis ever was.

In memory of her, when she is dead,

Her ashes, in an urn more precious

Than the rich jewel'd coffer of Darius,

Transported shall be at high festivals

Before the kings and queens of France.

No longer on Saint Denis will we cry,

But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.

Come in, and let us banquet royally

After this golden day of victory. Flourish. Exeunt

ACT II. SCENE 1.

Before Orleans

Enter a FRENCH SERGEANT and two SENTINELS

SERGEANT. Sirs, take your places and be vigilant.

If any noise or soldier you perceive

Near to the walls, by some apparent sign

Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.

FIRST SENTINEL. 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

TALBOT. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,

By whose approach the regions of Artois,

Wallon, and Picardy, are friends to us,

This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,

Having all day carous'd and banqueted;

Embrace we then this opportunity,

As fitting best to quittance their deceit,

Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery.

BEDFORD. 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!

BURGUNDY. Traitors have never other company.

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

TALBOT. A maid, they say.

BEDFORD. A maid! and be so martial!

BURGUNDY. Pray God she prove not masculine ere long,

If underneath the standard of the French

She carry armour as she hath begun.

TALBOT. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits:

God is our fortress, in whose conquering name

Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

BEDFORD. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee.

TALBOT. Not all together; better far, I guess,

That we do make our entrance several ways;

That if it chance the one of us do fail

The other yet may rise against their force.

BEDFORD. Agreed; I'll to yond corner.

BURGUNDY. And I to this.

TALBOT. And here will Talbot mount or make his grave.

Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right

Of English Henry, shall this night appear

How much in duty I am bound to both.

[The English scale the walls and cry 'Saint George!

a Talbot!']

SENTINEL. Arm! arm! The enemy doth make assault.

The French leap o'er the walls in their shirts.

Enter, several ways, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER,

half ready and half unready

ALENCON. How now, my lords? What, all unready so?

BASTARD. Unready! Ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well.

REIGNIER. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,

Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.

ALENCON. Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms

Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise

More venturous or desperate than this.

BASTARD. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

REIGNIER. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him

ALENCON. Here cometh Charles; I marvel how he sped.

Enter CHARLES and LA PUCELLE

BASTARD. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard.

CHARLES. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame?

Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,

Make us partakers of a little gain

That now our loss might be ten times so much?

PUCELLE. Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?

At all times will you have my power alike?

Sleeping or waking, must I still prevail

Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?

Improvident soldiers! Had your watch been good

This sudden mischief never could have fall'n.

CHARLES. Duke of Alencon, this was your default

That, being captain of the watch to-night,

Did look no better to that weighty charge.

ALENCON. Had all your quarters been as safely kept

As that whereof I had the government,

We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd.

BASTARD. Mine was secure.

REIGNIER. And so was mine, my lord.

CHARLES. And, for myself, most part of all this night,

Within her quarter and mine own precinct

I was employ'd in passing to and fro

About relieving of the sentinels.

Then how or which way should they first break in?

PUCELLE. Question, my lords, no further of the case,

How or which way; 'tis sure they found some place

But weakly guarded, where the breach was made.

And now there rests no other shift but this

To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers'd,

And lay new platforms to endamage them.

Alarum. Enter an ENGLISH SOLDIER, crying

'A Talbot! A Talbot!' They fly, leaving their

clothes behind

SOLDIER. 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

SCENE 2.

ORLEANS. Within the town

Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a CAPTAIN,

and others

BEDFORD. The day begins to break, and night is fled

Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.

Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit.

[Retreat sounded]

TALBOT. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury

And here advance it in the market-place,

The middle centre of this cursed town.

Now have I paid my vow unto his soul;

For every drop of blood was drawn from him

There hath at least five Frenchmen died to-night.

And that hereafter ages may behold

What ruin happened in revenge of him,

Within their chiefest temple I'll erect

A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interr'd;

Upon the which, that every one may read,

Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans,

The treacherous manner of his mournful death,

And what a terror he had been to France.

But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,

I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace,

His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,

Nor any of his false confederates.

BEDFORD. 'Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,

Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds,

They did amongst the troops of armed men

Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.

BURGUNDY. Myself, as far as I could well discern

For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,

Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull,

When arm in arm they both came swiftly running,

Like to a pair of loving turtle-doves

That could not live asunder day or night.

After that things are set in order here,

We'll follow them with all the power we have.

Enter a MESSENGER

MESSENGER. All hail, my lords! Which of this princely train

Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts

So much applauded through the realm of France?

TALBOT. Here is the Talbot; who would speak with him?

MESSENGER. The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne,

With modesty admiring thy renown,

By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe

To visit her poor castle where she lies,

That she may boast she hath beheld the man

Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

BURGUNDY. Is it even so? Nay, then I see our wars

Will turn into a peaceful comic sport,

When ladies crave to be encount'red with.

You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.

TALBOT. Ne'er trust me then; for when a world of men

Could not prevail with all their oratory,

Yet hath a woman's kindness overrul'd;

And therefore tell her I return great thanks

And in submission will attend on her.

Will not your honours bear me company?

BEDFORD. No, truly; 'tis more than manners will;

And I have heard it said unbidden guests

Are often welcomest when they are gone.

TALBOT. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy,

I mean to prove this lady's courtesy.

Come hither, Captain. [Whispers] You perceive my mind?

CAPTAIN. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. Exeunt

SCENE 3.

AUVERGNE. The Castle

Enter the COUNTESS and her PORTER

COUNTESS. Porter, remember what I gave in charge;

And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.

PORTER. Madam, I will.

COUNTESS. The plot is laid; if all things fall out right,

I shall as famous be by this exploit.

As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death.

Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight,

And his achievements of no less account.

Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears

To give their censure of these rare reports.

Enter MESSENGER and TALBOT.

MESSENGER. Madam, according as your ladyship desir'd,

By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come.

COUNTESS. And he is welcome. What! is this the man?

MESSENGER. Madam, it is.

COUNTESS. Is this the scourge of France?

Is this Talbot, so much fear'd abroad

That with his name the mothers still their babes?

I see report is fabulous and false.

I thought I should have seen some Hercules,

A second Hector, for his grim aspect

And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs.

Alas, this is a child, a silly dwarf!

It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp

Should strike such terror to his enemies.

TALBOT. Madam, I have been bold to trouble you;

But since your ladyship is not at leisure,

I'll sort some other time to visit you. [Going]

COUNTESS. What means he now? Go ask him whither he

goes.

MESSENGER. Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves

To know the cause of your abrupt departure.

TALBOT. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,

I go to certify her Talbot's here.

Re-enter PORTER With keys

COUNTESS. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.

TALBOT. Prisoner! To whom?

COUNTESS. To me, blood-thirsty lord

And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.

Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,

For in my gallery thy picture hangs;

But now the substance shall endure the like

And I will chain these legs and arms of thine

That hast by tyranny these many years

Wasted our country, slain our citizens,

And sent our sons and husbands captivate.

TALBOT. Ha, ha, ha!

COUNTESS. Laughest thou, wretch? Thy mirth shall turn to

moan.

TALBOT. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond

To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow

Whereon to practise your severity.

COUNTESS. Why, art not thou the man?

TALBOT. I am indeed.

COUNTESS. Then have I substance too.

TALBOT. No, no, I am but shadow of myself.

You are deceiv'd, my substance is not here;

For what you see is but the smallest part

And least proportion of humanity.

I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here,

It is of such a spacious lofty pitch

Your roof were not sufficient to contain 't.

COUNTESS. This is a riddling merchant for the nonce;

He will be here, and yet he is not here.

How can these contrarieties agree?

TALBOT. That will I show you presently.

Winds his horn; drums strike up;

a peal of ordnance. Enter soldiers

How say you, madam? Are you now persuaded

That Talbot is but shadow of himself?

These are his substance, sinews, arms, and strength,

With which he yoketh your rebellious necks,

Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns,

And in a moment makes them desolate.

COUNTESS. Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse.

I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited,

And more than may be gathered by thy shape.

Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath,

For I am sorry that with reverence

I did not entertain thee as thou art.

TALBOT. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconster

The mind of Talbot as you did mistake

The outward composition of his body.

What you have done hath not offended me.

Nor other satisfaction do I crave

But only, with your patience, that we may

Taste of your wine and see what cates you have,

For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.

COUNTESS. With all my heart, and think me honoured

To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt

SCENE 4.

London. The Temple garden

Enter the EARLS OF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK;

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another LAWYER

PLANTAGENET. Great lords and gentlemen, what means this

silence?

Dare no man answer in a case of truth?

SUFFOLK. Within the Temple Hall we were too loud;

The garden here is more convenient.

PLANTAGENET. Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth;

Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error?

SUFFOLK. 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.

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

WARWICK. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch;

Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;

Between two blades, which bears the better temper;

Between two horses, which doth bear him best;

Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye

I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment;

But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,

Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.

PLANTAGENET. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:

The truth appears so naked on my side

That any purblind eye may find it out.

SOMERSET. 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.

PLANTAGENET. Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak,

In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts.

Let him that is a true-born gentleman

And stands upon the honour of his birth,

If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,

From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.

SOMERSET. Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer,

But dare maintain the party of the truth,

Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.

WARWICK. I love no colours; and, without all colour

Of base insinuating flattery,

I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.

SUFFOLK. I pluck this red rose with young Somerset,

And say withal I think he held the right.

VERNON. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more

Till you conclude that he upon whose side

The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree

Shall yield the other in the right opinion.

SOMERSET. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected;

If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.

PLANTAGENET. And I.

VERNON. 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.

SOMERSET. 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.

VERNON. 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.

SOMERSET. Well, well, come on; who else?

LAWYER. [To Somerset] Unless my study and my books be

false,

The argument you held was wrong in you;

In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.

PLANTAGENET. Now, Somerset, where is your argument?

SOMERSET. Here in my scabbard, meditating that

Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.

PLANTAGENET. Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our

roses;

For pale they look with fear, as witnessing

The truth on our side.

SOMERSET. No, Plantagenet,

'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks

Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses,

And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.

PLANTAGENET. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?

SOMERSET. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?

PLANTAGENET. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth;

Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.

SOMERSET. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses,

That shall maintain what I have said is true,

Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.

PLANTAGENET. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,

I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.

SUFFOLK. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.

PLANTAGENET. Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and

thee.

SUFFOLK. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.

SOMERSET. Away, away, good William de la Pole!

We grace the yeoman by conversing with him.

WARWICK. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset;

His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence,

Third son to the third Edward, King of England.

Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root?

PLANTAGENET. He bears him on the place's privilege,

Or durst not for his craven heart say thus.

SOMERSET. By Him that made me, I'll maintain my words

On any plot of ground in Christendom.

Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge,

For treason executed in our late king's days?

And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted,

Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry?

His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;

And till thou be restor'd thou art a yeoman.

PLANTAGENET. My father was attached, not attainted;

Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor;

And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,

Were growing time once ripened to my will.

For your partaker Pole, and you yourself,

I'll note you in my book of memory

To scourge you for this apprehension.

Look to it well, and say you are well warn'd.

SOMERSET. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still;

And know us by these colours for thy foes

For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear.

PLANTAGENET. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,

As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,

Will I for ever, and my faction, wear,

Until it wither with me to my grave,

Or flourish to the height of my degree.

SUFFOLK. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition!

And so farewell until I meet thee next. Exit

SOMERSET. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious

Richard. Exit

PLANTAGENET. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure

it!

WARWICK. This blot that they object against your house

Shall be wip'd out in the next Parliament,

Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester;

And if thou be not then created York,

I will not live to be accounted Warwick.

Meantime, in signal of my love to thee,

Against proud Somerset and William Pole,

Will I upon thy party wear this rose;

And here I prophesy: this brawl to-day,

Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden,

Shall send between the Red Rose and the White

A thousand souls to death and deadly night.

PLANTAGENET. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you

That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.

VERNON. In your behalf still will I wear the same.

LAWYER. And so will I.

PLANTAGENET. Thanks, gentle sir.

Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say

This quarrel will drink blood another day. Exeunt

SCENE 5.

The Tower of London

Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair, and GAOLERS

MORTIMER. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,

Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.

Even like a man new haled from the rack,

So fare my limbs with long imprisonment;

And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death,

Nestor-like aged in an age of care,

Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.

These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,

Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent;

Weak shoulders, overborne with burdening grief,

And pithless arms, like to a withered vine

That droops his sapless branches to the ground.

Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb,

Unable to support this lump of clay,

Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,

As witting I no other comfort have.

But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?

FIRST KEEPER. Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come.

We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber;

And answer was return'd that he will come.

MORTIMER. Enough; my soul shall then be satisfied.

Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.

Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,

Before whose glory I was great in arms,

This loathsome sequestration have I had;

And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd,

Depriv'd of honour and inheritance.

But now the arbitrator of despairs,

Just Death, kind umpire of men's miseries,

With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence.

I would his troubles likewise were expir'd,

That so he might recover what was lost.

Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET

FIRST KEEPER. My lord, your loving nephew now is come.

MORTIMER. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?

PLANTAGENET. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd,

Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes.

MORTIMER. Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck

And in his bosom spend my latter gasp.

O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks,

That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.

And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock,

Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd?

PLANTAGENET. First, lean thine aged back against mine arm;

And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.

This day, in argument upon a case,

Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me;

Among which terms he us'd his lavish tongue

And did upbraid me with my father's death;

Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,

Else with the like I had requited him.

Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake,

In honour of a true Plantagenet,

And for alliance sake, declare the cause

My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head.

MORTIMER. That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me

And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth

Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,

Was cursed instrument of his decease.

PLANTAGENET. Discover more at large what cause that was,

For I am ignorant and cannot guess.

MORTIMER. I will, if that my fading breath permit

And death approach not ere my tale be done.

Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,

Depos'd his nephew Richard, Edward's son,

The first-begotten and the lawful heir

Of Edward king, the third of that descent;

During whose reign the Percies of the north,

Finding his usurpation most unjust,

Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne.

The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this

Was, for that-young Richard thus remov'd,

Leaving no heir begotten of his body--

I was the next by birth and parentage;

For by my mother I derived am

From Lionel Duke of Clarence, third son

To King Edward the Third; whereas he

From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree,

Being but fourth of that heroic line.

But mark: as in this haughty great attempt

They laboured to plant the rightful heir,

I lost my liberty, and they their lives.

Long after this, when Henry the Fifth,

Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign,

Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then deriv'd

From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York,

Marrying my sister, that thy mother was,

Again, in pity of my hard distress,

Levied an army, weening to redeem

And have install'd me in the diadem;

But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl,

And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,

In whom the title rested, were suppress'd.

PLANTAGENET. Of Which, my lord, your honour is the last.

MORTIMER. True; and thou seest that I no issue have,

And that my fainting words do warrant death.

Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather;

But yet be wary in thy studious care.

PLANTAGENET. Thy grave admonishments prevail with me.

But yet methinks my father's execution

Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.

MORTIMER. With silence, nephew, be thou politic;

Strong fixed is the house of Lancaster

And like a mountain not to be remov'd.

But now thy uncle is removing hence,

As princes do their courts when they are cloy'd

With long continuance in a settled place.

PLANTAGENET. O uncle, would some part of my young years

Might but redeem the passage of your age!

MORTIMER. Thou dost then wrong me, as that slaughterer

doth

Which giveth many wounds when one will kill.

Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good;

Only give order for my funeral.

And so, farewell; and fair be all thy hopes,

And prosperous be thy life in peace and war! [Dies]

PLANTAGENET. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul!

In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage,

And like a hermit overpass'd thy days.

Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast;

And what I do imagine, let that rest.

Keepers, convey him hence; and I myself

Will see his burial better than his life.

Exeunt GAOLERS, hearing out the body of MORTIMER

Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,

Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort;

And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries,

Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house,

I doubt not but with honour to redress;

And therefore haste I to the Parliament,

Either to be restored to my blood,

Or make my ill th' advantage of my good. Exit

ACT III. SCENE 1.

London. The Parliament House

Flourish. Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET,

and SUFFOLK;

the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others.

GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; WINCHESTER snatches it, and

tears it

WINCHESTER. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines,

With written pamphlets studiously devis'd?

Humphrey of Gloucester, if thou canst accuse

Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,

Do it without invention, suddenly;

I with sudden and extemporal speech

Purpose to answer what thou canst object.

GLOUCESTER. Presumptuous priest, this place commands my

patience,

Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me.

Think not, although in writing I preferr'd

The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes,

That therefore I have forg'd, or am not able

Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen.

No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness,

Thy lewd, pestiferous, and dissentious pranks,

As very infants prattle of thy pride.

Thou art a most pernicious usurer;

Froward by nature, enemy to peace;

Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems

A man of thy profession and degree;

And for thy treachery, what's more manifest

In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life,

As well at London Bridge as at the Tower?

Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,

The King, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt

From envious malice of thy swelling heart.

WINCHESTER. Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe

To give me hearing what I shall reply.

If I were covetous, ambitious, or perverse,

As he will have me, how am I so poor?

Or how haps it I seek not to advance

Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling?

And for dissension, who preferreth peace

More than I do, except I be provok'd?

No, my good lords, it is not that offends;

It is not that that incens'd hath incens'd the Duke:

It is because no one should sway but he;

No one but he should be about the King;

And that engenders thunder in his breast

And makes him roar these accusations forth.

But he shall know I am as good

GLOUCESTER. As good!

Thou bastard of my grandfather!

WINCHESTER. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray,

But one imperious in another's throne?

GLOUCESTER. Am I not Protector, saucy priest?

WINCHESTER. And am not I a prelate of the church?

GLOUCESTER. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps,

And useth it to patronage his theft.

WINCHESTER. Unreverent Gloucester!

GLOUCESTER. Thou art reverend

Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.

WINCHESTER. Rome shall remedy this.

WARWICK. Roam thither then.

SOMERSET. My lord, it were your duty to forbear.

WARWICK. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.

SOMERSET. Methinks my lord should be religious,

And know the office that belongs to such.

WARWICK. Methinks his lordship should be humbler;

It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.

SOMERSET. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near.

WARWICK. State holy or unhallow'd, what of that?

Is not his Grace Protector to the King?

PLANTAGENET. [Aside] Plantagenet, I see, must hold his

tongue,

Lest it be said 'Speak, sirrah, when you should;

Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?'

Else would I have a fling at Winchester.

KING HENRY. Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester,

The special watchmen of our English weal,

I would prevail, if prayers might prevail

To join your hearts in love and amity.

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?

WARWICK. An uproar, I dare warrant,

Begun through malice of the Bishop's men.

[A noise again: 'Stones! Stones!']

Enter the MAYOR OF LONDON, attended

MAYOR. O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry,

Pity the city of London, pity us!

The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men,

Forbidden late to carry any weapon,

Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones

And, banding themselves in contrary parts,

Do pelt so fast at one another's pate

That many have their giddy brains knock'd out.

Our windows are broke down in every street,

And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops.

Enter in skirmish, the retainers of GLOUCESTER and

WINCHESTER, with bloody pates

KING HENRY. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,

To hold your slaught'ring hands and keep the peace.

Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.

FIRST SERVING-MAN. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we'll

fall to it with our teeth.

SECOND SERVING-MAN. Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.

[Skirmish again]

GLOUCESTER. You of my household, leave this peevish broil,

And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.

THIRD SERVING-MAN. My lord, we know your Grace to be a

man

Just and upright, and for your royal birth

Inferior to none but to his Majesty;

And ere that we will suffer such a prince,

So kind a father of the commonweal,

To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,

We and our wives and children all will fight

And have our bodies slaught'red by thy foes.

FIRST SERVING-MAN. Ay, and the very parings of our nails

Shall pitch a field when we are dead. [Begin again]

GLOUCESTER. Stay, stay, I say!

And if you love me, as you say you do,

Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.

KING HENRY. O, how this discord doth afflict my soul!

Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold

My sighs and tears and will not once relent?

Who should be pitiful, if you be not?

Or who should study to prefer a peace,

If holy churchmen take delight in broils?

WARWICK. Yield, my Lord Protector; yield, Winchester;

Except you mean with obstinate repulse

To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm.

You see what mischief, and what murder too,

Hath been enacted through your enmity;

Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.

WINCHESTER. He shall submit, or I will never yield.

GLOUCESTER. Compassion on the King commands me stoop,

Or I would see his heart out ere the priest

Should ever get that privilege of me.

WARWICK. Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the Duke

Hath banish'd moody discontented fury,

As by his smoothed brows it doth appear;

Why look you still so stem and tragical?

GLOUCESTER. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.

KING HENRY. Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach

That malice was a great and grievous sin;

And will not you maintain the thing you teach,

But prove a chief offender in the same?

WARWICK. Sweet King! The Bishop hath a kindly gird.

For shame, my Lord of Winchester, relent;

What, shall a child instruct you what to do?

WINCHESTER. Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee;

Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.

GLOUCESTER [Aside] Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow

heart.

See here, my friends and loving countrymen:

This token serveth for a flag of truce

Betwixt ourselves and all our followers.

So help me God, as I dissemble not!

WINCHESTER [Aside] So help me God, as I intend it not!

KING HENRY. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester,

How joyful am I made by this contract!

Away, my masters! trouble us no more;

But join in friendship, as your lords have done.

FIRST SERVING-MAN. Content: I'll to the surgeon's.

SECOND SERVING-MAN. And so will I.

THIRD SERVING-MAN. And I will see what physic the tavern

affords. Exeunt servants, MAYOR, &C.

WARWICK. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign;

Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet

We do exhibit to your Majesty.

GLOUCESTER. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick; for, sweet

prince,

An if your Grace mark every circumstance,

You have great reason to do Richard right;

Especially for those occasions

At Eltham Place I told your Majesty.

KING HENRY. And those occasions, uncle, were of force;

Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is

That Richard be restored to his blood.

WARWICK. Let Richard be restored to his blood;

So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd.

WINCHESTER. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.

KING HENRY. If Richard will be true, not that alone

But all the whole inheritance I give

That doth belong unto the house of York,

From whence you spring by lineal descent.

PLANTAGENET. Thy humble servant vows obedience

And humble service till the point of death.

KING HENRY. Stoop then and set your knee against my foot;

And in reguerdon of that duty done

I girt thee with the valiant sword of York.

Rise, Richard, like a true Plantagenet,

And rise created princely Duke of York.

PLANTAGENET. And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall!

And as my duty springs, so perish they

That grudge one thought against your Majesty!

ALL. Welcome, high Prince, the mighty Duke of York!

SOMERSET. [Aside] Perish, base Prince, ignoble Duke of

York!

GLOUCESTER. 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.

KING HENRY. When Gloucester says the word, King Henry

goes;

For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.

GLOUCESTER. Your ships already are in readiness.

Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but EXETER

EXETER. Ay, we may march in England or in France,

Not seeing what is likely to ensue.

This late dissension grown betwixt the peers

Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love

And will at last break out into a flame;

As fest'red members rot but by degree

Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away,

So will this base and envious discord breed.

And now I fear that fatal prophecy.

Which in the time of Henry nam'd the Fifth

Was in the mouth of every sucking babe:

That Henry born at Monmouth should win all,

And Henry born at Windsor should lose all.

Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish

His days may finish ere that hapless time. Exit

SCENE 2.

France. Before Rouen

Enter LA PUCELLE disguis'd, with four soldiers dressed

like countrymen, with sacks upon their backs

PUCELLE. These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen,

Through which our policy must make a breach.

Take heed, be wary how you place your words;

Talk like the vulgar sort of market-men

That come to gather money for their corn.

If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,

And that we find the slothful watch but weak,

I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,

That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.

FIRST SOLDIER. Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,

And we be lords and rulers over Rouen;

Therefore we'll knock. [Knocks]

WATCH. [Within] Qui est la?

PUCELLE. Paysans, pauvres gens de France

Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn.

WATCH. Enter, go in; the market-bell is rung.

PUCELLE. Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the

ground.

[LA PUCELLE, &c., enter the town]

Enter CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER, and forces

CHARLES. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem!

And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.

BASTARD. Here ent'red Pucelle and her practisants;

Now she is there, how will she specify

Here is the best and safest passage in?

ALENCON. By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;

Which once discern'd shows that her meaning is

No way to that, for weakness, which she ent'red.

Enter LA PUCELLE, on the top, thrusting out

a torch burning

PUCELLE. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch

That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,

But burning fatal to the Talbotites. Exit

BASTARD. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend;

The burning torch in yonder turret stands.

CHARLES. Now shine it like a comet of revenge,

A prophet to the fall of all our foes!

ALENCON. Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends;

Enter, and cry 'The Dauphin!' presently,

And then do execution on the watch.

Alarum. Exeunt

An alarum. Enter TALBOT in an excursion

TALBOT. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,

If Talbot but survive thy treachery.

PUCELLE, that witch, that damned sorceress,

Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,

That hardly we escap'd the pride of France. Exit

An alarum; excursions. BEDFORD brought in sick in

a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without;

within, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON,

and REIGNIER, on the walls

PUCELLE. Good morrow, gallants! Want ye corn for bread?

I think the Duke of Burgundy will fast

Before he'll buy again at such a rate.

'Twas full of darnel--do you like the taste?

BURGUNDY. Scoff on, vile fiend and shameless courtezan.

I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own,

And make thee curse the harvest of that corn.

CHARLES. Your Grace may starve, perhaps, before that time.

BEDFORD. O, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!

PUCELLE. What you do, good grey beard? Break a

lance,

And run a tilt at death within a chair?

TALBOT. Foul fiend of France and hag of all despite,

Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours,

Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age

And twit with cowardice a man half dead?

Damsel, I'll have a bout with you again,

Or else let Talbot perish with this shame.

PUCELLE. Are ye so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;

If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.

[The English party whisper together in council]

God speed the parliament! Who shall be the Speaker?

TALBOT. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?

PUCELLE. Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,

To try if that our own be ours or no.

TALBOT. I speak not to that railing Hecate,

But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest.

Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?

ALENCON. Signior, no.

TALBOT. Signior, hang! Base muleteers of France!

Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls,

And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.

PUCELLE. Away, captains! Let's get us from the walls;

For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.

God b'uy, my lord; we came but to tell you

That we are here. Exeunt from the walls

TALBOT. And there will we be too, ere it be long,

Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!

Vow, Burgundy, by honour of thy house,

Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France,

Either to get the town again or die;

And I, as sure as English Henry lives

And as his father here was conqueror,

As sure as in this late betrayed town

Great Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried

So sure I swear to get the town or die.

BURGUNDY. My vows are equal partners with thy vows.

TALBOT. But ere we go, regard this dying prince,

The valiant Duke of Bedford. Come, my lord,

We will bestow you in some better place,

Fitter for sickness and for crazy age.

BEDFORD. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me;

Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen,

And will be partner of your weal or woe.

BURGUNDY. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.

BEDFORD. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read

That stout Pendragon in his litter sick

Came to the field, and vanquished his foes.

Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts,

Because I ever found them as myself.

TALBOT. Undaunted spirit in a dying breast!

Then be it so. Heavens keep old Bedford safe!

And now no more ado, brave Burgundy,

But gather we our forces out of hand

And set upon our boasting enemy.

Exeunt against the town all but BEDFORD and attendants

An alarum; excursions. Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE,

and a CAPTAIN

CAPTAIN. Whither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?

FASTOLFE. Whither away? To save myself by flight:

We are like to have the overthrow again.

CAPTAIN. What! Will you and leave Lord Talbot?

FASTOLFE. Ay,

All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. Exit

CAPTAIN. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!

Exit into the town

Retreat; excursions. LA PUCELLE, ALENCON,

and CHARLES fly

BEDFORD. Now, quiet soul, depart when heaven please,

For I have seen our enemies' overthrow.

What is the trust or strength of foolish man?

They that of late were daring with their scoffs

Are glad and fain by flight to save themselves.

[BEDFORD dies and is carried in by two in his chair]

An alarum. Re-enter TALBOT, BURGUNDY, and the rest

TALBOT. Lost and recovered in a day again!

This is a double honour, Burgundy.

Yet heavens have glory for this victory!

BURGUNDY. Warlike and martial Talbot, Burgundy

Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects

Thy noble deeds as valour's monuments.

TALBOT. Thanks, gentle Duke. But where is Pucelle now?

I think her old familiar is asleep.

Now where's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?

What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for grief

That such a valiant company are fled.

Now will we take some order in the town,

Placing therein some expert officers;

And then depart to Paris to the King,

For there young Henry with his nobles lie.

BURGUNDY. What Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.

TALBOT. But yet, before we go, let's not forget

The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,

But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen.

A braver soldier never couched lance,

A gentler heart did never sway in court;

But kings and mightiest potentates must die,

For that's the end of human misery. Exeunt

SCENE 3.

The plains near Rouen

Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD, ALENCON, LA PUCELLE,

and forces

PUCELLE. 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 rul'd.

CHARLES. We have guided by thee hitherto,

And of thy cunning had no diffidence;

One sudden foil shall never breed distrust

BASTARD. Search out thy wit for secret policies,

And we will make thee famous through the world.

ALENCON. We'll set thy statue in some holy place,

And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint.

Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good.

PUCELLE. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:

By fair persuasions, mix'd with sug'red words,

We will entice the Duke of Burgundy

To leave the Talbot and to follow us.

CHARLES. Ay, marry, sweeting, if we could do that,

France were no place for Henry's warriors;

Nor should that nation boast it so with us,

But be extirped from our provinces.

ALENCON. For ever should they be expuls'd from France,

And not have tide of an earldom here.

PUCELLE. Your honours shall perceive how I will work

To bring this matter to the wished end.

[Drum sounds afar off]

Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive

Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward.

Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass over

at a distance, TALBOT and his forces

There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread,

And all the troops of English after him.

French march. Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and

his forces

Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his.

Fortune in favour makes him lag behind.

Summon a parley; we will talk with him.

[Trumpets sound a parley]

CHARLES. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy!

BURGUNDY. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?

PUCELLE. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.

BURGUNDY. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching

hence.

CHARLES. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.

PUCELLE. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!

Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.

BURGUNDY. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.

PUCELLE. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,

And see the cities and the towns defac'd

By wasting ruin of the cruel foe;

As looks the mother on her lowly babe

When death doth close his tender dying eyes,

See, see the pining malady of France;

Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,

Which thou thyself hast given her woeful breast.

O, turn thy edged sword another way;

Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that help!

One drop of blood drawn from thy country's bosom

Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore.

Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,

And wash away thy country's stained spots.

BURGUNDY. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,

Or nature makes me suddenly relent.

PUCELLE. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,

Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.

Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation

That will not trust thee but for profit's sake?

When Talbot hath set footing once in France,

And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill,

Who then but English Henry will be lord,

And thou be thrust out like a fugitive?

Call we to mind-and mark but this for proof:

Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe?

And was he not in England prisoner?

But when they heard he was thine enemy

They set him free without his ransom paid,

In spite of Burgundy and all his friends.

See then, thou fight'st against thy countrymen,

And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen.

Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord;

Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.

BURGUNDY. I am vanquished; these haughty words of hers

Have batt'red me like roaring cannon-shot

And made me almost yield upon my knees.

Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen

And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace.

My forces and my power of men are yours;

So, farewell, Talbot; I'll no longer trust thee.

PUCELLE. Done like a Frenchman- [Aside] turn and turn

again.

CHARLES. Welcome, brave Duke! Thy friendship makes us

fresh.

BASTARD. And doth beget new courage in our breasts.

ALENCON. Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this,

And doth deserve a coronet of gold.

CHARLES. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers,

And seek how we may prejudice the foe. Exeunt

SCENE 4.

Paris. The palace

Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK,

SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, EXETER,

VERNON, BASSET, and others. To them, with

his soldiers, TALBOT

TALBOT. My gracious Prince, and honourable peers,

Hearing of your arrival in this realm,

I have awhile given truce unto my wars

To do my duty to my sovereign;

In sign whereof, this arm that hath reclaim'd

To your obedience fifty fortresses,

Twelve cities, and seven walled towns of strength,

Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem,

Lets fall his sword before your Highness' feet,

And with submissive loyalty of heart

Ascribes the glory of his conquest got

First to my God and next unto your Grace. [Kneels]

KING HENRY. Is this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester,

That hath so long been resident in France?

GLOUCESTER. Yes, if it please your Majesty, my liege.

KING HENRY. Welcome, brave captain and victorious lord!

When I was young, as yet I am not old,

I do remember how my father said

A stouter champion never handled sword.

Long since we were resolved of your truth,

Your faithful service, and your toil in war;

Yet never have you tasted our reward,

Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks,

Because till now we never saw your face.

Therefore stand up; and for these good deserts

We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury;

And in our coronation take your place.

Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but VERNON and BASSET

VERNON. Now, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea,

Disgracing of these colours that I wear

In honour of my noble Lord of York

Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st?

BASSET. Yes, sir; as well as you dare patronage

The envious barking of your saucy tongue

Against my lord the Duke of Somerset.

VERNON. Sirrah, thy lord I honour as he is.

BASSET. Why, what is he? As good a man as York!

VERNON. Hark ye: not so. In witness, take ye that.

[Strikes him]

BASSET. Villain, thou knowest the law of arms is such

That whoso draws a sword 'tis present death,

Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood.

But I'll unto his Majesty and crave

I may have liberty to venge this wrong;

When thou shalt see I'll meet thee to thy cost.

VERNON. Well, miscreant, I'll be there as soon as you;

And, after, meet you sooner than you would. Exeunt

ACT IV. SCENE 1.

Park. The palace

Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET,

WARWICK, TALBOT, EXETER, the GOVERNOR OF PARIS, and others

GLOUCESTER. Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head.

WINCHESTER. God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth!

GLOUCESTER. Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath

[GOVERNOR kneels]

That you elect no other king but him,

Esteem none friends but such as are his friends,

And none your foes but such as shall pretend

Malicious practices against his state.

This shall ye do, so help you righteous God!

Exeunt GOVERNOR and his train

Enter SIR JOHN FASTOLFE

FASTOLFE. My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais,

To haste unto your coronation,

A letter was deliver'd to my hands,

Writ to your Grace from th' Duke of Burgundy.

TALBOT. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee!

I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next

To tear the Garter from thy craven's leg, [Plucking it off]

Which I have done, because unworthily

Thou wast installed in that high degree.

Pardon me, princely Henry, and the rest:

This dastard, at the battle of Patay,

When but in all I was six thousand strong,

And that the French were almost ten to one,

Before we met or that a stroke was given,

Like to a trusty squire did run away;

In which assault we lost twelve hundred men;

Myself and divers gentlemen beside

Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners.

Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss,

Or whether that such cowards ought to wear

This ornament of knighthood--yea or no.

GLOUCESTER. To say the truth, this fact was infamous

And ill beseeming any common man,

Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.

TALBOT. When first this order was ordain'd, my lords,

Knights of the Garter were of noble birth,

Valiant and virtuous, full of haughty courage,

Such as were grown to credit by the wars;

Not fearing death nor shrinking for distress,

But always resolute in most extremes.

He then that is not furnish'd in this sort

Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight,

Profaning this most honourable order,

And should, if I were worthy to be judge,

Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swain

That doth presume to boast of gentle blood.

KING HENRY. Stain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy

doom.

Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight;

Henceforth we banish thee on pain of death.

Exit FASTOLFE

And now, my Lord Protector, view the letter

Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.

GLOUCESTER. [Viewing the superscription] What means his

Grace, that he hath chang'd his style?

No more but plain and bluntly 'To the King!'

Hath he forgot he is his sovereign?

Or doth this churlish superscription

Pretend some alteration in good-will?

What's here? [Reads] 'I have, upon especial cause,

Mov'd with compassion of my country's wreck,

Together with the pitiful complaints

Of such as your oppression feeds upon,

Forsaken your pernicious faction,

And join'd with Charles, the rightful King of France.'

O monstrous treachery! Can this be so

That in alliance, amity, and oaths,

There should be found such false dissembling guile?

KING HENRY. What! Doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?

GLOUCESTER. He doth, my lord, and is become your foe.

KING HENRY. Is that the worst this letter doth contain?

GLOUCESTER. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.

KING HENRY. Why then Lord Talbot there shall talk with

him

And give him chastisement for this abuse.

How say you, my lord, are you not content?

TALBOT. Content, my liege! Yes; but that I am prevented,

I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.

KING HENRY. Then gather strength and march unto him

straight;

Let him perceive how ill we brook his treason.

And what offence it is to flout his friends.

TALBOT. I go, my lord, in heart desiring still

You may behold confusion of your foes. Exit

Enter VERNON and BASSET

VERNON. Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign.

BASSET. And me, my lord, grant me the combat too.

YORK. This is my servant: hear him, noble Prince.

SOMERSET. And this is mine: sweet Henry, favour him.

KING HENRY. Be patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.

Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim,

And wherefore crave you combat, or with whom?

VERNON. With him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.

BASSET. And I with him; for he hath done me wrong.

KING HENRY. What is that wrong whereof you both

complain? First let me know, and then I'll answer you.

BASSET. Crossing the sea from England into France,

This fellow here, with envious carping tongue,

Upbraided me about the rose I wear,

Saying the sanguine colour of the leaves

Did represent my master's blushing cheeks

When stubbornly he did repugn the truth

About a certain question in the law

Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him;

With other vile and ignominious terms

In confutation of which rude reproach

And in defence of my lord's worthiness,

I crave the benefit of law of arms.

VERNON. And that is my petition, noble lord;

For though he seem with forged quaint conceit

To set a gloss upon his bold intent,

Yet know, my lord, I was provok'd by him,

And he first took exceptions at this badge,

Pronouncing that the paleness of this flower

Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.

YORK. Will not this malice, Somerset, be left?

SOMERSET. Your private grudge, my Lord of York, will out,

Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.

KING HENRY. 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.

YORK. Let this dissension first be tried by fight,

And then your Highness shall command a peace.

SOMERSET. The quarrel toucheth none but us alone;

Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.

YORK. There is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.

VERNON. Nay, let it rest where it began at first.

BASSET. Confirm it so, mine honourable lord.

GLOUCESTER. Confirm it so? Confounded be your strife;

And perish ye, with your audacious prate!

Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd

With this immodest clamorous outrage

To trouble and disturb the King and us?

And you, my lords--methinks you do not well

To bear with their perverse objections,

Much less to take occasion from their mouths

To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves.

Let me persuade you take a better course.

EXETER. It grieves his Highness. Good my lords, be friends.

KING HENRY. Come hither, you that would be combatants:

Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favour,

Quite to forget this quarrel and the cause.

And you, my lords, remember where we are:

In France, amongst a fickle wavering nation;

If they perceive dissension in our looks

And that within ourselves we disagree,

How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd

To wilful disobedience, and rebel!

Beside, what infamy will there arise

When foreign princes shall be certified

That for a toy, a thing of no regard,

King Henry's peers and chief nobility

Destroy'd themselves and lost the realm of France!

O, think upon the conquest of my father,

My tender years; and let us not forgo

That for a trifle that was bought with blood!

Let me be umpire in this doubtful strife.

I see no reason, if I wear this rose,

[Putting on a red rose]

That any one should therefore be suspicious

I more incline to Somerset than York:

Both are my kinsmen, and I love them both.

As well they may upbraid me with my crown,

Because, forsooth, the King of Scots is crown'd.

But your discretions better can persuade

Than I am able to instruct or teach;

And, therefore, as we hither came in peace,

So let us still continue peace and love.

Cousin of York, we institute your Grace

To be our Regent in these parts of France.

And, good my Lord of Somerset, unite

Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;

And like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,

Go cheerfully together and digest

Your angry choler on your enemies.

Ourself, my Lord Protector, and the rest,

After some respite will return to Calais;

From thence to England, where I hope ere long

To be presented by your victories

With Charles, Alencon, and that traitorous rout.

Flourish. Exeunt all but YORK, WARWICK,

EXETER, VERNON

WARWICK. My Lord of York, I promise you, the King

Prettily, methought, did play the orator.

YORK. And so he did; but yet I like it not,

In that he wears the badge of Somerset.

WARWICK. Tush, that was but his fancy; blame him not;

I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.

YORK. An if I wist he did-but let it rest;

Other affairs must now be managed.

Exeunt all but EXETER

EXETER. Well didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice;

For had the passions of thy heart burst out,

I fear we should have seen decipher'd there

More rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,

Than yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd.

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 ruin, there begins confusion. Exit

SCENE 2.

France. Before Bordeaux

Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum

TALBOT. Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter;

Summon their general unto the wall.

Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, aloft, the

GENERAL OF THE FRENCH, and others

English John Talbot, Captains, calls you forth,

Servant in arms to Harry King of England;

And thus he would open your city gates,

Be humble to us, call my sovereign yours

And do him homage as obedient subjects,

And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power;

But if you frown upon this proffer'd peace,

You tempt the fury of my three attendants,

Lean famine, quartering steel, and climbing fire;

Who in a moment even with the earth

Shall lay your stately and air braving towers,

If you forsake the offer of their love.

GENERAL OF THE FRENCH. Thou ominous and fearful owl of

death,

Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge!

The period of thy tyranny approacheth.

On us thou canst not enter but by death;

For, I protest, we are well fortified,

And strong enough to issue out and fight.

If thou retire, the Dauphin, well appointed,

Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee.

On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd

To wall thee from the liberty of flight,

And no way canst thou turn thee for redress

But death doth front thee with apparent spoil

And pale destruction meets thee in the face.

Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament

To rive their dangerous artillery

Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot.

Lo, there thou stand'st, a breathing valiant man,

Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit!

This is the latest glory of thy praise

That I, thy enemy, due thee withal;

For ere the glass that now begins to run

Finish the process of his sandy hour,

These eyes that see thee now well coloured

Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.

[Drum afar off]

Hark! hark! The Dauphin's drum, a warning bell,

Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul;

And mine shall ring thy dire departure out. Exit

TALBOT. He fables not; I hear the enemy.

Out, some light horsemen, and peruse their wings.

O, negligent and heedless discipline!

How are we park'd and bounded in a pale

A little herd of England's timorous deer,

Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs!

If we be English deer, be then in blood;

Not rascal-like to fall down with a pinch,

But rather, moody-mad and desperate stags,

Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel

And make the cowards stand aloof at bay.

Sell every man his life as dear as mine,

And they shall find dear deer of us, my friends.

God and Saint George, Talbot and England's right,

Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight! Exeunt

SCENE 3.

Plains in Gascony

Enter YORK, with trumpet and many soldiers. A

MESSENGER meets him

YORK. Are not the speedy scouts return'd again

That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?

MESSENGER. They are return'd, my lord, and give it out

That he is march'd to Bordeaux with his power

To fight with Talbot; as he march'd along,

By your espials were discovered

Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led,

Which join'd with him and made their march for

Bordeaux.

YORK. A plague upon that villain Somerset

That thus delays my promised supply

Of horsemen that were levied for this siege!

Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid,

And I am louted by a traitor villain

And cannot help the noble chevalier.

God comfort him in this necessity!

If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.

Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY

LUCY. Thou princely leader of our English strength,

Never so needful on the earth of France,

Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,

Who now is girdled with a waist of iron

And hemm'd about with grim destruction.

To Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, York!

Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour.

YORK. O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart

Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place!

So should we save a valiant gentleman

By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.

Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep

That thus we die while remiss traitors sleep.

LUCY. O, send some succour to the distress'd lord!

YORK. He dies; we lose; I break my warlike word.

We mourn: France smiles. We lose: they daily get-

All long of this vile traitor Somerset.

LUCY. Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul,

And on his son, young John, who two hours since

I met in travel toward his warlike father.

This seven years did not Talbot see his son;

And now they meet where both their lives are done.

YORK. Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have

To bid his young son welcome to his grave?

Away! vexation almost stops my breath,

That sund'red friends greet in the hour of death.

Lucy, farewell; no more my fortune can

But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.

Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away

Long all of Somerset and his delay. Exit with forces

LUCY. Thus, while the vulture of sedition

Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,

Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss

The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror,

That ever-living man of memory,

Henry the Fifth. Whiles they each other cross,

Lives, honours, lands, and all, hurry to loss. Exit

SCENE 4.

Other plains of Gascony

Enter SOMERSET, With his forces; an OFFICER of

TALBOT'S with him

SOMERSET. It is too late; I cannot send them now.

This expedition was by York and Talbot

Too rashly plotted; all our general force

Might with a sally of the very town

Be buckled with. The over daring Talbot

Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour

By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure.

York set him on to fight and die in shame.

That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.

OFFICER. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me

Set from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.

Enter SIR WILLIAM LUCY

SOMERSET. How now, Sir William! Whither were you sent?

LUCY. Whither, my lord! From bought and sold Lord

Talbot,

Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,

Cries out for noble York and Somerset

To beat assailing death from his weak legions;

And whiles the honourable captain there

Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs

And, in advantage ling'ring, looks for rescue,

You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour,

Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.

Let not your private discord keep away

The levied succours that should lend him aid,

While he, renowned noble gentleman,

Yield up his life unto a world of odds.

Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,

Alencon, Reignier, compass him about,

And Talbot perisheth by your default.

SOMERSET. York set him on; York should have sent him aid.

LUCY. And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims,

Swearing that you withhold his levied host,

Collected for this expedition.

SOMERSET. York lies; he might have sent and had the horse.

I owe him little duty and less love,

And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.

LUCY. The fraud of England, not the force of France,

Hath now entrapp'd the noble minded Talbot.

Never to England shall he bear his life,

But dies betray'd to fortune by your strife.

SOMERSET. Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight;

Within six hours they will be at his aid.

LUCY. Too late comes rescue; he is ta'en or slain,

For fly he could not if he would have fled;

And fly would Talbot never, though he might.

SOMERSET. If he be dead, brave Talbot, then, adieu!

LUCY. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.

Exeunt

SCENE 5.

The English camp near Bordeaux

Enter TALBOT and JOHN his son

TALBOT. O young John Talbot! I did send for thee

To tutor thee in stratagems of war,

That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd

When sapless age and weak unable limbs

Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.

But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!

Now thou art come unto a feast of death,

A terrible and unavoided danger;

Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse,

And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape

By sudden flight. Come, dally not, be gone.

JOHN. Is my name Talbot, and am I your son?

And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,

Dishonour not her honourable name,

To make a bastard and a slave of me!

The world will say he is not Talbot's blood

That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.

TALBOT. Fly to revenge my death, if I be slain.

JOHN. He that flies so will ne'er return again.

TALBOT. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.

JOHN. Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly.

Your loss is great, so your regard should be;

My worth unknown, no loss is known in me;

Upon my death the French can little boast;

In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.

Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;

But mine it will, that no exploit have done;

You fled for vantage, every one will swear;

But if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.

There is no hope that ever I will stay

If the first hour I shrink and run away.

Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,

Rather than life preserv'd with infamy.

TALBOT. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?

JOHN. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.

TALBOT. Upon my blessing I command thee go.

JOHN. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.

TALBOT. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.

JOHN. No part of him but will be shame in me.

TALBOT. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.

JOHN. Yes, your renowned name; shall flight abuse it?

TALBOT. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.

JOHN. You cannot witness for me, being slain.

If death be so apparent, then both fly.

TALBOT. And leave my followers here to fight and die?

My age was never tainted with such shame.

JOHN. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?

No more can I be severed from your side

Than can yourself yourself yourself in twain divide.

Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;

For live I will not if my father die.

TALBOT. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,

Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.

Come, side by side together live and die;

And soul with soul from France to heaven fly. Exeunt

SCENE 6.

A field of battle

Alarum: excursions wherein JOHN TALBOT is hemm'd

about, and TALBOT rescues him

TALBOT. Saint George and victory! Fight, soldiers, fight.

The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word

And left us to the rage of France his sword.

Where is John Talbot? Pause and take thy breath;

I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death.

JOHN. O, twice my father, twice am I thy son!

The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done

Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,

To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date.

TALBOT. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck

fire,

It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire

Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,

Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,

Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy,

And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.

The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood

From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood

Of thy first fight, I soon encountered

And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed

Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace

Bespoke him thus: 'Contaminated, base,

And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,

Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine

Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy.'

Here purposing the Bastard to destroy,

Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care;

Art thou not weary, John? How dost thou fare?

Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,

Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?

Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead:

The help of one stands me in little stead.

O, too much folly is it, well I wot,

To hazard all our lives in one small boat!

If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,

To-morrow I shall die with mickle age.

By me they nothing gain an if I stay:

'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day.

In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,

My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame.

All these and more we hazard by thy stay;

All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away.

JOHN. The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart;

These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart.

On that advantage, bought with such a shame,

To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,

Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,

The coward horse that bears me fall and die!

And like me to the peasant boys of France,

To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance!

Surely, by all the glory you have won,

An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son;

Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;

If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.

TALBOT. Then follow thou thy desp'rate sire of Crete,

Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet.

If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;

And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride. Exeunt

SCENE 7.

Another part of the field

Alarum; excursions. Enter old TALBOT led by a SERVANT

TALBOT. Where is my other life? Mine own is gone.

O, where's young Talbot? Where is valiant John?

Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,

Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee.

When he perceiv'd me shrink and on my knee,

His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,

And like a hungry lion did commence

Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience;

But when my angry guardant stood alone,

Tend'ring my ruin and assail'd of none,

Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heart

Suddenly made him from my side to start

Into the clust'ring battle of the French;

And in that sea of blood my boy did drench

His overmounting spirit; and there died,

My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.

Enter soldiers, bearing the body of JOHN TALBOT

SERVANT. O my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!

TALBOT. Thou antic Death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,

Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,

Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,

Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,

In thy despite shall scape mortality.

O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured Death,

Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!

Brave Death by speaking, whether he will or no;

Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.

Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say,

Had Death been French, then Death had died to-day.

Come, come, and lay him in his father's arms.

My spirit can no longer bear these harms.

Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,

Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave. [Dies]

Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BURGUNDY, BASTARD,

LA PUCELLE, and forces

CHARLES. Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,

We should have found a bloody day of this.

BASTARD. How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging wood,

Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!

PUCELLE. Once I encount'red him, and thus I said:

'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid.'

But with a proud majestical high scorn

He answer'd thus: 'Young Talbot was not born

To be the pillage of a giglot wench.'

So, rushing in the bowels of the French,

He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.

BURGUNDY. Doubtless he would have made a noble knight.

See where he lies inhearsed in the arms

Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!

BASTARD. Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,

Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.

CHARLES. O, no; forbear! For that which we have fled

During the life, let us not wrong it dead.

Enter SIR WILLIAM Lucy, attended; a FRENCH

HERALD preceding

LUCY. Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,

To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.

CHARLES. On what submissive message art thou sent?

LUCY. Submission, Dauphin! 'Tis a mere French word:

We English warriors wot not what it means.

I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en,

And to survey the bodies of the dead.

CHARLES. For prisoners ask'st thou? Hell our prison is.

But tell me whom thou seek'st.

LUCY. But where's the great Alcides of the field,

Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,

Created for his rare success in arms

Great Earl of Washford, Waterford, and Valence,

Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,

Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,

Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,

The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge,

Knight of the noble order of Saint George,

Worthy Saint Michael, and the Golden Fleece,

Great Marshal to Henry the Sixth

Of all his wars within the realm of France?

PUCELLE. Here's a silly-stately style indeed!

The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,

Writes not so tedious a style as this.

Him that thou magnifi'st with all these tides,

Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.

LUCY. Is Talbot slain--the Frenchmen's only scourge,

Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?

O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,

That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!

O that I could but call these dead to life!

It were enough to fright the realm of France.

Were but his picture left amongst you here,

It would amaze the proudest of you all.

Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence

And give them burial as beseems their worth.

PUCELLE. I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,

He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.

For God's sake, let him have them; to keep them here,

They would but stink, and putrefy the air.

CHARLES. Go, take their bodies hence.

LUCY. I'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be

rear'd

A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.

CHARLES. So we be rid of them, do with them what thou

wilt.

And now to Paris in this conquering vein!

All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. Exeunt

ACT V. SCENE 1.

London. The palace

Sennet. Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, and EXETER

KING HENRY. Have you perus'd the letters from the Pope,

The Emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac?

GLOUCESTER. I have, my lord; and their intent is this:

They humbly sue unto your Excellence

To have a godly peace concluded of

Between the realms of England and of France.

KING HENRY. How doth your Grace affect their motion?

GLOUCESTER. Well, my good lord, and as the only means

To stop effusion of our Christian blood

And stablish quietness on every side.

KING HENRY. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought

It was both impious and unnatural

That such immanity and bloody strife

Should reign among professors of one faith.

GLOUCESTER. Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect

And surer bind this knot of amity,

The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,

A man of great authority in France,

Proffers his only daughter to your Grace

In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.

KING HENRY. Marriage, uncle! Alas, my years are young

And fitter is my study and my books

Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.

Yet call th' ambassadors, and, as you please,

So let them have their answers every one.

I shall be well content with any choice

Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.

Enter in Cardinal's habit

BEAUFORT, the PAPAL LEGATE, and two AMBASSADORS

EXETER. What! Is my Lord of Winchester install'd

And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?

Then I perceive that will be verified

Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy:

'If once he come to be a cardinal,

He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.'

KING HENRY. My Lords Ambassadors, your several suits

Have been consider'd and debated on.

Your purpose is both good and reasonable,

And therefore are we certainly resolv'd

To draw conditions of a friendly peace,

Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean

Shall be transported presently to France.

GLOUCESTER. And for the proffer of my lord your master,

I have inform'd his Highness so at large,

As, liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,

Her beauty, and the value of her dower,

He doth intend she shall be England's Queen.

KING HENRY. [To AMBASSADOR] In argument and proof of

which contract,

Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.

And so, my Lord Protector, see them guarded

And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd,

Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

Exeunt all but WINCHESTER and the LEGATE

WINCHESTER. Stay, my Lord Legate; you shall first receive

The sum of money which I promised

Should be delivered to his Holiness

For clothing me in these grave ornaments.

LEGATE. I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.

WINCHESTER. [Aside] Now Winchester will not submit, I

trow,

Or be inferior to the proudest peer.

Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive

That neither in birth or for authority

The Bishop will be overborne by thee.

I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,

Or sack this country with a mutiny. Exeunt

SCENE 2.

France. Plains in Anjou

Enter CHARLES, BURGUNDY, ALENCON, BASTARD,

REIGNIER, LA PUCELLE, and forces

CHARLES. These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping

spirits:

'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt

And turn again unto the warlike French.

ALENCON. Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France,

And keep not back your powers in dalliance.

PUCELLE. Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;

Else ruin combat with their palaces!

Enter a SCOUT

SCOUT. Success unto our valiant general,

And happiness to his accomplices!

CHARLES. What tidings send our scouts? I prithee speak.

SCOUT. The English army, that divided was

Into two parties, is now conjoin'd in one,

And means to give you battle presently.

CHARLES. Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;

But we will presently provide for them.

BURGUNDY. I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there.

Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.

PUCELLE. Of all base passions fear is most accurs'd.

Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine,

Let Henry fret and all the world repine.

CHARLES. Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate!

Exeunt

SCENE 3.

Before Angiers

Alarum, excursions. Enter LA PUCELLE

PUCELLE. The Regent conquers and the Frenchmen fly.

Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;

And ye choice spirits that admonish me

And give me signs of future accidents; [Thunder]

You speedy helpers that are substitutes

Under the lordly monarch of the north,

Appear and aid me in this enterprise!

Enter FIENDS

This speedy and quick appearance argues proof

Of your accustom'd diligence to me.

Now, ye familiar spirits that are cull'd

Out of the powerful regions under earth,

Help me this once, that France may get the field.

[They walk and speak not]

O, hold me not with silence over-long!

Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,

I'll lop a member off and give it you

In earnest of a further benefit,

So you do condescend to help me now.

[They hang their heads]

No hope to have redress? My body shall

Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.

[They shake their heads]

Cannot my body nor blood sacrifice

Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?

Then take my soul-my body, soul, and all,

Before that England give the French the foil.

[They depart]

See! they forsake me. Now the time is come

That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest

And let her head fall into England's lap.

My ancient incantations are too weak,

And hell too strong for me to buckle with.

Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. Exit

Excursions. Enter French and English, fighting.

LA PUCELLE and YORK fight hand to hand; LA PUCELLE

is taken. The French fly

YORK. Damsel of France, I think I have you fast.

Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms,

And try if they can gain your liberty.

A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace!

See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows

As if, with Circe, she would change my shape!

PUCELLE. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be.

YORK. O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man:

No shape but his can please your dainty eye.

PUCELLE. A plaguing mischief fight on Charles and thee!

And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd

By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!

YORK. Fell banning hag; enchantress, hold thy tongue.

PUCELLE. I prithee give me leave to curse awhile.

YORK. Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.

Exeunt

Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK, with MARGARET in his hand

SUFFOLK. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

[Gazes on her]

O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly!

For I will touch thee but with reverent hands;

I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,

And lay them gently on thy tender side.

Who art thou? Say, that I may honour thee.

MARGARET. Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,

The King of Naples--whosoe'er thou art.

SUFFOLK. An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.

Be not offended, nature's miracle,

Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me.

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! [Aside] 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! disable not thyself;

Hast not a tongue? Is she not here thy prisoner?

Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?

Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such

Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.

MARGARET. Say, Earl of Suffolk, if thy name be so,

What ransom must I pay before I pass?

For I perceive I am thy prisoner.

SUFFOLK. [Aside] How canst thou tell she will deny thy

suit,

Before thou make a trial of her love?

MARGARET. Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I

pay?

SUFFOLK. [Aside] She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;

She is a woman, therefore to be won.

MARGARET. Wilt thou accept of ransom--yea or no?

SUFFOLK. [Aside] Fond man, remember that thou hast a

wife;

Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?

MARGARET. I were best leave him, for he will not hear.

SUFFOLK. [Aside] There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling

card.

MARGARET. He talks at random; sure, the man is mad.

SUFFOLK. [Aside] And yet a dispensation may be had.

MARGARET. And yet I would that you would answer me.

SUFFOLK. [Aside] I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom?

Why, for my King! Tush, that's a wooden thing!

MARGARET. He talks of wood. It is some carpenter.

SUFFOLK. [Aside] Yet so my fancy may be satisfied,

And peace established between these realms.

But there remains a scruple in that too;

For though her father be the King of Naples,

Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,

And our nobility will scorn the match.

MARGARET. Hear ye, Captain--are you not at leisure?

SUFFOLK. [Aside] It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much.

Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield.

Madam, I have a secret to reveal.

MARGARET. [Aside] What though I be enthrall'd? He seems

a knight,

And will not any way dishonour me.

SUFFOLK. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.

MARGARET. [Aside] Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French;

And then I need not crave his courtesy.

SUFFOLK. Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause--

MARGARET. [Aside] Tush! women have been captivate ere

now.

SUFFOLK. Lady, wherefore talk you so?

MARGARET. I cry you mercy, 'tis but quid for quo.

SUFFOLK. Say, gentle Princess, would you not suppose

Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?

MARGARET. To be a queen in bondage is more vile

Than is a slave in base servility;

For princes should be free.

SUFFOLK. And so shall you,

If happy England's royal king be free.

MARGARET. Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?

SUFFOLK. I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen,

To put a golden sceptre in thy hand

And set a precious crown upon thy head,

If thou wilt condescend to be my--

MARGARET. What?

SUFFOLK. His love.

MARGARET. I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.

SUFFOLK. No, gentle madam; I unworthy am

To woo so fair a dame to be his wife

And have no portion in the choice myself.

How say you, madam? Are ye so content?

MARGARET. An if my father please, I am content.

SUFFOLK. Then call our captains and our colours forth!

And, madam, at your father's castle walls

We'll crave a parley to confer with him.

Sound a parley. Enter REIGNIER on the walls

See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner!

REIGNIER. To whom?

SUFFOLK. To me.

REIGNIER. Suffolk, what remedy?

I am a soldier and unapt to weep

Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.

SUFFOLK. Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord.

Consent, and for thy honour give consent,

Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king,

Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;

And this her easy-held imprisonment

Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty.

REIGNIER. Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?

SUFFOLK. Fair Margaret knows

That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.

REIGNIER. Upon thy princely warrant I descend

To give thee answer of thy just demand.

Exit REIGNIER from the walls

SUFFOLK. And here I will expect thy coming.

Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER below

REIGNIER. Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories;

Command in Anjou what your Honour pleases.

SUFFOLK. Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child,

Fit to be made companion with a king.

What answer makes your Grace unto my suit?

REIGNIER. Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth

To be the princely bride of such a lord,

Upon condition I may quietly

Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou,

Free from oppression or the stroke of war,

My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.

SUFFOLK. That is her ransom; I deliver her.

And those two counties I will undertake

Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy.

REIGNIER. And I again, in Henry's royal name,

As deputy unto that gracious king,

Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.

SUFFOLK. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,

Because this is in traffic of a king.

[Aside] And yet, methinks, I could be well content

To be mine own attorney in this case.

I'll over then to England with this news,

And make this marriage to be solemniz'd.

So, farewell, Reignier. Set this diamond safe

In golden palaces, as it becomes.

REIGNIER. I do embrace thee as I would embrace

The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.

MARGARET. Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and

prayers,

Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. [She is going]

SUFFOLK. Farewell, sweet madam. But hark you, Margaret

No princely commendations to my king?

MARGARET. Such commendations as becomes a maid,

A virgin, and his servant, say to him.

SUFFOLK. Words sweetly plac'd and modestly directed.

But, madam, I must trouble you again

No loving token to his Majesty?

MARGARET. Yes, my good lord: a pure unspotted heart,

Never yet taint with love, I send the King.

SUFFOLK. And this withal. [Kisses her]

MARGARET. That for thyself, I will not so presume

To send such peevish tokens to a king.

Exeunt REIGNIER and MARGARET

SUFFOLK. O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay;

Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth:

There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.

Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise.

Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,

And natural graces that extinguish art;

Repeat their semblance often on the seas,

That, when thou com'st to kneel at Henry's feet,

Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder. Exit

SCENE 4.

Camp of the DUKE OF YORK in Anjou

Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others

YORK. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn'd to burn.

Enter LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a SHEPHERD

SHEPHERD. Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright!

Have I sought every country far and near,

And, now it is my chance to find thee out,

Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?

Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!

PUCELLE. Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!

I am descended of a gentler blood;

Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.

SHEPHERD. Out, out! My lords, an please you, 'tis not so;

I did beget her, all the parish knows.

Her mother liveth yet, can testify

She was the first fruit of my bach'lorship.

WARWICK. Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage?

YORK. This argues what her kind of life hath been--

Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.

SHEPHERD. Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle!

God knows thou art a collop of my flesh;

And for thy sake have I shed many a tear.

Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan.

PUCELLE. Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man

Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.

SHEPHERD. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest

The morn that I was wedded to her mother.

Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.

Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time

Of thy nativity. I would the milk

Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast

Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake.

Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield,

I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee.

Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?

O, burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good. Exit

YORK. Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long,

To fill the world with vicious qualities.

PUCELLE. First let me tell you whom you have condemn'd:

Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,

But issued from the progeny of kings;

Virtuous and holy, chosen from above

By inspiration of celestial grace,

To work exceeding miracles on earth.

I never had to do with wicked spirits.

But you, that are polluted with your lusts,

Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,

Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,

Because you want the grace that others have,

You judge it straight a thing impossible

To compass wonders but by help of devils.

No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been

A virgin from her tender infancy,

Chaste and immaculate in very thought;

Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effus'd,

Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.

YORK. Ay, ay. Away with her to execution!

WARWICK. And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,

Spare for no fagots, let there be enow.

Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,

That so her torture may be shortened.

PUCELLE. Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?

Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity

That warranteth by law to be thy privilege:

I am with child, ye bloody homicides;

Murder not then the fruit within my womb,

Although ye hale me to a violent death.

YORK. Now heaven forfend! The holy maid with child!

WARWICK. The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought:

Is all your strict preciseness come to this?

YORK. She and the Dauphin have been juggling.

I did imagine what would be her refuge.

WARWICK. Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live;

Especially since Charles must father it.

PUCELLE. You are deceiv'd; my child is none of his:

It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love.

YORK. Alencon, that notorious Machiavel!

It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.

PUCELLE. O, give me leave, I have deluded you.

'Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I nam'd,

But Reignier, King of Naples, that prevail'd.

WARWICK. A married man! That's most intolerable.

YORK. Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well

There were so many--whom she may accuse.

WARWICK. It's sign she hath been liberal and free.

YORK. And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.

Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee.

Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.

PUCELLE. Then lead me hence--with whom I leave my

curse:

May never glorious sun reflex his beams

Upon the country where you make abode;

But darkness and the gloomy shade of death

Environ you, till mischief and despair

Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!

Exit, guarded

YORK. Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes,

Thou foul accursed minister of hell!

Enter CARDINAL BEAUFORT, attended

CARDINAL. Lord Regent, I do greet your Excellence

With letters of commission from the King.

For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,

Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils,

Have earnestly implor'd a general peace

Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French;

And here at hand the Dauphin and his train

Approacheth, to confer about some matter.

YORK. Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?

After the slaughter of so many peers,

So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers,

That in this quarrel have been overthrown

And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,

Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?

Have we not lost most part of all the towns,

By treason, falsehood, and by treachery,

Our great progenitors had conquered?

O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief

The utter loss of all the realm of France.

WARWICK. Be patient, York. If we conclude a peace,

It shall be with such strict and severe covenants

As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.

Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, BASTARD, REIGNIER, and others

CHARLES. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed

That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France,

We come to be informed by yourselves

What the conditions of that league must be.

YORK. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes

The hollow passage of my poison'd voice,

By sight of these our baleful enemies.

CARDINAL. Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus:

That, in regard King Henry gives consent,

Of mere compassion and of lenity,

To ease your country of distressful war,

An suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,

You shall become true liegemen to his crown;

And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear

To pay him tribute and submit thyself,

Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him,

And still enjoy thy regal dignity.

ALENCON. Must he be then as shadow of himself?

Adorn his temples with a coronet

And yet, in substance and authority,

Retain but privilege of a private man?

This proffer is absurd and reasonless.

CHARLES. 'Tis known already that I am possess'd

With more than half the Gallian territories,

And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king.

Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd,

Detract so much from that prerogative

As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?

No, Lord Ambassador; I'll rather keep

That which I have than, coveting for more,

Be cast from possibility of all.

YORK. Insulting Charles! Hast thou by secret means

Us'd intercession to obtain a league,

And now the matter grows to compromise

Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison?

Either accept the title thou usurp'st,

Of benefit proceeding from our king

And not of any challenge of desert,

Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.

REIGNIER. [To CHARLES] My lord, you do not well in

obstinacy

To cavil in the course of this contract.

If once it be neglected, ten to one

We shall not find like opportunity.

ALENCON. [To CHARLES] To say the truth, it is your policy

To save your subjects from such massacre

And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen

By our proceeding in hostility;

And therefore take this compact of a truce,

Although you break it when your pleasure serves.

WARWICK. How say'st thou, Charles? Shall our condition

stand?

CHARLES. It shall;

Only reserv'd, you claim no interest

In any of our towns of garrison.

YORK. Then swear allegiance to his Majesty:

As thou art knight, never to disobey

Nor be rebellious to the crown of England

Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.

[CHARLES and the rest give tokens of fealty]

So, now dismiss your army when ye please;

Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still,

For here we entertain a solemn peace. Exeunt

SCENE 5.

London. The palace

Enter SUFFOLK, in conference with the KING,

GLOUCESTER and EXETER

KING HENRY. Your wondrous rare description, noble Earl,

Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me.

Her virtues, graced with external gifts,

Do breed love's settled passions in my heart;

And like as rigour of tempestuous gusts

Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,

So am I driven by breath of her renown

Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive

Where I may have fruition of her love.

SUFFOLK. Tush, my good lord! This superficial tale

Is but a preface of her worthy praise.

The chief perfections of that lovely dame,

Had I sufficient skill to utter them,

Would make a volume of enticing lines,

Able to ravish any dull conceit;

And, which is more, she is not so divine,

So full-replete with choice of all delights,

But with as humble lowliness of mind

She is content to be at your command

Command, I mean, of virtuous intents,

To love and honour Henry as her lord.

KING HENRY. And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume.

Therefore, my Lord Protector, give consent

That Margaret may be England's royal Queen.

GLOUCESTER. So should I give consent to flatter sin.

You know, my lord, your Highness is betroth'd

Unto another lady of esteem.

How shall we then dispense with that contract,

And not deface your honour with reproach?

SUFFOLK. As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths;

Or one that at a triumph, having vow'd

To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists

By reason of his adversary's odds:

A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds,

And therefore may be broke without offence.

GLOUCESTER. Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than

that?

Her father is no better than an earl,

Although in glorious titles he excel.

SUFFOLK. Yes, my lord, her father is a king,

The King of Naples and Jerusalem;

And of such great authority in France

As his alliance will confirm our peace,

And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.

GLOUCESTER. And so the Earl of Armagnac may do,

Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.

EXETER. Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower;

Where Reignier sooner will receive than give.

SUFFOLK. A dow'r, my lords! Disgrace not so your king,

That he should be so abject, base, and poor,

To choose for wealth and not for perfect love.

Henry is able to enrich his queen,

And not to seek a queen to make him rich.

So worthless peasants bargain for their wives,

As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse.

Marriage is a matter of more worth

Than to be dealt in by attorneyship;

Not whom we will, but whom his Grace affects,

Must be companion of his nuptial bed.

And therefore, lords, since he affects her most,

It most of all these reasons bindeth us

In our opinions she should be preferr'd;

For what is wedlock forced but a hell,

An age of discord and continual strife?

Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss,

And is a pattern of celestial peace.

Whom should we match with Henry, being a king,

But Margaret, that is daughter to a king?

Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,

Approves her fit for none but for a king;

Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit,

More than in women commonly is seen,

Will answer our hope in issue of a king;

For Henry, son unto a conqueror,

Is likely to beget more conquerors,

If with a lady of so high resolve

As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love.

Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me

That Margaret shall be Queen, and none but she.

KING HENRY. Whether it be through force of your report,

My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that

My tender youth was never yet attaint

With any passion of inflaming love,

I cannot tell; but this I am assur'd,

I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,

Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,

As I am sick with working of my thoughts.

Take therefore shipping; post, my lord, to France;

Agree to any covenants; and procure

That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come

To cross the seas to England, and be crown'd

King Henry's faithful and anointed queen.

For your expenses and sufficient charge,

Among the people gather up a tenth.

Be gone, I say; for till you do return

I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.

And you, good uncle, banish all offence:

If you do censure me by what you were,

Not what you are, I know it will excuse

This sudden execution of my will.

And so conduct me where, from company,

I may revolve and ruminate my grief. Exit

GLOUCESTER. Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last.

Exeunt GLOUCESTER and EXETER

SUFFOLK. Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd; and thus he goes,

As did the youthful Paris once to Greece,

With hope to find the like event in love

But prosper better than the Troyan did.

Margaret shall now be Queen, and rule the King;

But I will rule both her, the King, and realm. Exit

THE END