Enter GRANDPRE
GRANDPRE. Why do you stay so long, my lords of France?
Yond island carrions, desperate of their bones,
Ill-favouredly become the morning field;
Their ragged curtains poorly are let loose,
And our air shakes them passing scornfully;
Big Mars seems bankrupt in their beggar'd host,
And faintly through a rusty beaver peeps.
The horsemen sit like fixed candlesticks
With torch-staves in their hand; and their poor jades
Lob down their heads, dropping the hides and hips,
The gum down-roping from their pale-dead eyes,
And in their pale dull mouths the gimmal'd bit
Lies foul with chaw'd grass, still and motionless;
And their executors, the knavish crows,
Fly o'er them, all impatient for their hour.
Description cannot suit itself in words
To demonstrate the life of such a battle
In life so lifeless as it shows itself.
CONSTABLE. They have said their prayers and they stay for death.
DAUPHIN. Shall we go send them dinners and fresh suits,
And give their fasting horses provender,
And after fight with them?
CONSTABLE. I stay but for my guidon. To the field!
I will the banner from a trumpet take,
And use it for my haste. Come, come, away!
The sun is high, and we outwear the day. Exeunt
SCENE III.
The English camp
Enter GLOUCESTER, BEDFORD, EXETER, ERPINGHAM, with all his host;
SALISBURY and WESTMORELAND
GLOUCESTER. Where is the King?
BEDFORD. The King himself is rode to view their battle.
WESTMORELAND. Of fighting men they have full three-score thousand.
EXETER. There's five to one; besides, they all are fresh.
SALISBURY. God's arm strike with us! 'tis a fearful odds.
God bye you, Princes all; I'll to my charge.
If we no more meet till we meet in heaven,
Then joyfully, my noble Lord of Bedford,
My dear Lord Gloucester, and my good Lord Exeter,
And my kind kinsman- warriors all, adieu!
BEDFORD. Farewell, good Salisbury; and good luck go with thee!
EXETER. Farewell, kind lord. Fight valiantly to-day;
And yet I do thee wrong to mind thee of it,
For thou art fram'd of the firm truth of valour.
Exit SALISBURY
BEDFORD. He is as full of valour as of kindness;
Princely in both.
Enter the KING
WESTMORELAND. O that we now had here
But one ten thousand of those men in England
That do no work to-day!
KING. What's he that wishes so?
My cousin Westmoreland? No, my fair cousin;
If we are mark'd to die, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more.
By Jove, I am not covetous for gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost;
It yearns me not if men my garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not a man from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim it, Westmoreland, through my host,
That he which hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be made,
And crowns for convoy put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of Crispian.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the name of Crispian.
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Crispian.'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispian's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats he did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Harry the King, Bedford and Exeter,
Warwick and Talbot, Salisbury and Gloucester-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Crispin Crispian shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Crispin's day.
Re-enter SALISBURY
SALISBURY. My sovereign lord, bestow yourself with speed:
The French are bravely in their battles set,
And will with all expedience charge on us.
KING HENRY. All things are ready, if our minds be so.
WESTMORELAND. Perish the man whose mind is backward now!
KING HENRY. Thou dost not wish more help from England, coz?
WESTMORELAND. God's will, my liege! would you and I alone,
Without more help, could fight this royal battle!
KING HENRY. Why, now thou hast unwish'd five thousand men;
Which likes me better than to wish us one.
You know your places. God be with you all!
Tucket. Enter MONTJOY
MONTJOY. Once more I come to know of thee, King Harry,
If for thy ransom thou wilt now compound,
Before thy most assured overthrow;
For certainly thou art so near the gulf
Thou needs must be englutted. Besides, in mercy,
The constable desires thee thou wilt mind
Thy followers of repentance, that their souls
May make a peaceful and a sweet retire
From off these fields, where, wretches, their poor bodies
Must lie and fester.
KING HENRY. Who hath sent thee now?
MONTJOY. The Constable of France.
KING HENRY. I pray thee bear my former answer back:
Bid them achieve me, and then sell my bones.
Good God! why should they mock poor fellows thus?
The man that once did sell the lion's skin
While the beast liv'd was kill'd with hunting him.
A many of our bodies shall no doubt
Find native graves; upon the which, I trust,
Shall witness live in brass of this day's work.
And those that leave their valiant bones in France,
Dying like men, though buried in your dunghills,
They shall be fam'd; for there the sun shall greet them
And draw their honours reeking up to heaven,
Leaving their earthly parts to choke your clime,
The smell whereof shall breed a plague in France.
Mark then abounding valour in our English,
That, being dead, like to the bullet's grazing
Break out into a second course of mischief,
Killing in relapse of mortality.
Let me speak proudly: tell the Constable
We are but warriors for the working-day;
Our gayness and our gilt are all besmirch'd
With rainy marching in the painful field;
There's not a piece of feather in our host-
Good argument, I hope, we will not fly-
And time hath worn us into slovenry.
But, by the mass, our hearts are in the trim;
And my poor soldiers tell me yet ere night
They'll be in fresher robes, or they will pluck
The gay new coats o'er the French soldiers' heads
And turn them out of service. If they do this-
As, if God please, they shall- my ransom then
Will soon be levied. Herald, save thou thy labour;
Come thou no more for ransom, gentle herald;
They shall have none, I swear, but these my joints;
Which if they have, as I will leave 'em them,
Shall yield them little, tell the Constable.
MONTJOY. I shall, King Harry. And so fare thee well:
Thou never shalt hear herald any more. Exit
KING HENRY. I fear thou wilt once more come again for a ransom.
Enter the DUKE OF YORK
YORK. My lord, most humbly on my knee I beg
The leading of the vaward.
KING HENRY. Take it, brave York. Now, soldiers, march away;
And how thou pleasest, God, dispose the day! Exeunt
SCENE IV.
The field of battle
Alarum. Excursions. Enter FRENCH SOLDIER, PISTOL, and BOY
PISTOL. Yield, cur!
FRENCH SOLDIER. Je pense que vous etes le gentilhomme de bonne
qualite.
PISTOL. Cality! Calen o custure me! Art thou a gentleman?
What is thy name? Discuss.
FRENCH SOLDIER. O Seigneur Dieu!
PISTOL. O, Signieur Dew should be a gentleman.
Perpend my words, O Signieur Dew, and mark:
O Signieur Dew, thou diest on point of fox,
Except, O Signieur, thou do give to me
Egregious ransom.
FRENCH SOLDIER. O, prenez misericorde; ayez pitie de moi!
PISTOL. Moy shall not serve; I will have forty moys;
Or I will fetch thy rim out at thy throat
In drops of crimson blood.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Est-il impossible d'echapper la force de ton bras?
PISTOL. Brass, cur?
Thou damned and luxurious mountain-goat,
Offer'st me brass?
FRENCH SOLDIER. O, pardonnez-moi!
PISTOL. Say'st thou me so? Is that a ton of moys?
Come hither, boy; ask me this slave in French
What is his name.
BOY. Ecoutez: comment etes-vous appele?
FRENCH SOLDIER. Monsieur le Fer.
BOY. He says his name is Master Fer.
PISTOL. Master Fer! I'll fer him, and firk him, and ferret him-
discuss the same in French unto him.
BOY. I do not know the French for fer, and ferret, and firk.
PISTOL. Bid him prepare; for I will cut his throat.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Que dit-il, monsieur?
BOY. Il me commande a vous dire que vous faites vous pret; car ce
soldat ici est dispose tout a cette heure de couper votre gorge.
PISTOL. Owy, cuppele gorge, permafoy!
Peasant, unless thou give me crowns, brave crowns;
Or mangled shalt thou be by this my sword.
FRENCH SOLDIER. O, je vous supplie, pour l'amour de Dieu, me
pardonner! Je suis gentilhomme de bonne maison. Gardez ma vie, et
je vous donnerai deux cents ecus.
PISTOL. What are his words?
BOY. He prays you to save his life; he is a gentleman of a good
house, and for his ransom he will give you two hundred crowns.
PISTOL. Tell him my fury shall abate, and I
The crowns will take.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Petit monsieur, que dit-il?
BOY. Encore qu'il est contre son jurement de pardonner aucun
prisonnier, neamnoins, pour les ecus que vous l'avez promis, il
est content a vous donner la liberte, le franchisement.
FRENCH SOLDIER. Sur mes genoux je vous donne mille remercimens; et
je m'estime heureux que je suis tombe entre les mains d'un
chevalier, je pense, le plus brave, vaillant, et tres distingue
seigneur d'Angleterre.
PISTOL. Expound unto me, boy.
BOY. He gives you, upon his knees, a thousand thanks; and he
esteems himself happy that he hath fall'n into the hands of one-
as he thinks- the most brave, valorous, and thrice-worthy
signieur of England.
PISTOL. As I suck blood, I will some mercy show.
Follow me. Exit
BOY. Suivez-vous le grand capitaine. Exit FRENCH SOLDIER
I did never know so full a voice issue from so empty a heart; but
the saying is true- the empty vessel makes the greatest sound.
Bardolph and Nym had ten times more valour than this roaring
devil i' th' old play, that every one may pare his nails with a
wooden dagger; and they are both hang'd; and so would this be, if
he durst steal anything adventurously. I must stay with the
lackeys, with the luggage of our camp. The French might have a
good prey of us, if he knew of it; for there is none to guard it
but boys. Exit
SCENE V.
Another part of the field of battle
Enter CONSTABLE, ORLEANS, BOURBON, DAUPHIN, and RAMBURES
CONSTABLE. O diable!
ORLEANS. O Seigneur! le jour est perdu, tout est perdu!
DAUPHIN. Mort Dieu, ma vie! all is confounded, all!
Reproach and everlasting shame
Sits mocking in our plumes. [A short alarum]
O mechante fortune! Do not run away.
CONSTABLE. Why, an our ranks are broke.
DAUPHIN. O perdurable shame! Let's stab ourselves.
Be these the wretches that we play'd at dice for?
ORLEANS. Is this the king we sent to for his ransom?
BOURBON. Shame, and eternal shame, nothing but shame!
Let us die in honour: once more back again;
And he that will not follow Bourbon now,
Let him go hence and, with his cap in hand
Like a base pander, hold the chamber-door
Whilst by a slave, no gender than my dog,
His fairest daughter is contaminated.
CONSTABLE. Disorder, that hath spoil'd us, friend us now!
Let us on heaps go offer up our lives.
ORLEANS. We are enow yet living in the field
To smother up the English in our throngs,
If any order might be thought upon.
BOURBON. The devil take order now! I'll to the throng.
Let life be short, else shame will be too long. Exeunt
SCENE VI.
Another part of the field
Alarum. Enter the KING and his train, with prisoners; EXETER, and others
KING HENRY. Well have we done, thrice-valiant countrymen;
But all's not done- yet keep the French the field.
EXETER. The Duke of York commends him to your Majesty.
KING HENRY. Lives he, good uncle? Thrice within this hour
I saw him down; thrice up again, and fighting;
From helmet to the spur all blood he was.
EXETER. In which array, brave soldier, doth he lie
Larding the plain; and by his bloody side,
Yoke-fellow to his honour-owing wounds,
The noble Earl of Suffolk also lies.
Suffolk first died; and York, all haggled over,
Comes to him, where in gore he lay insteeped,
And takes him by the beard, kisses the gashes
That bloodily did yawn upon his face,
He cries aloud 'Tarry, my cousin Suffolk.
My soul shall thine keep company to heaven;
Tarry, sweet soul, for mine, then fly abreast;
As in this glorious and well-foughten field
We kept together in our chivalry.'
Upon these words I came and cheer'd him up;
He smil'd me in the face, raught me his hand,
And, with a feeble grip, says 'Dear my lord,
Commend my service to my sovereign.'
So did he turn, and over Suffolk's neck
He threw his wounded arm and kiss'd his lips;
And so, espous'd to death, with blood he seal'd
A testament of noble-ending love.
The pretty and sweet manner of it forc'd
Those waters from me which I would have stopp'd;
But I had not so much of man in me,
And all my mother came into mine eyes
And gave me up to tears.
KING HENRY. I blame you not;
For, hearing this, I must perforce compound
With mistful eyes, or they will issue too. [Alarum]
But hark! what new alarum is this same?
The French have reinforc'd their scatter'd men.
Then every soldier kill his prisoners;
Give the word through. Exeunt
SCENE VII.
Another part of the field
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER
FLUELLEN. Kill the poys and the luggage! 'Tis expressly against the
law of arms; 'tis as arrant a piece of knavery, mark you now, as
can be offert; in your conscience, now, is it not?
GOWER. 'Tis certain there's not a boy left alive; and the cowardly
rascals that ran from the battle ha' done this slaughter;
besides, they have burned and carried away all that was in the
King's tent; wherefore the King most worthily hath caus'd every
soldier to cut his prisoner's throat. O, 'tis a gallant King!
FLUELLEN. Ay, he was porn at Monmouth, Captain Gower. What call you
the town's name where Alexander the Pig was born?
GOWER. Alexander the Great.
FLUELLEN. Why, I pray you, is not 'pig' great? The pig, or great,
or the mighty, or the huge, or the magnanimous, are all one
reckonings, save the phrase is a little variations.
GOWER. I think Alexander the Great was born in Macedon; his father
was called Philip of Macedon, as I take it.
FLUELLEN. I think it is in Macedon where Alexander is porn. I tell
you, Captain, if you look in the maps of the 'orld, I warrant you
sall find, in the comparisons between Macedon and Monmouth, that
the situations, look you, is both alike. There is a river in
Macedon; and there is also moreover a river at Monmouth; it is
call'd Wye at Monmouth, but it is out of my prains what is the
name of the other river; but 'tis all one, 'tis alike as my
fingers is to my fingers, and there is salmons in both. If you
mark Alexander's life well, Harry of Monmouth's life is come
after it indifferent well; for there is figures in all things.
Alexander- God knows, and you know- in his rages, and his furies,
and his wraths, and his cholers, and his moods, and his
displeasures, and his indignations, and also being a little
intoxicates in his prains, did, in his ales and his angers, look
you, kill his best friend, Cleitus.
GOWER. Our king is not like him in that: he never kill'd any of his
friends.
FLUELLEN. It is not well done, mark you now, to take the tales out
of my mouth ere it is made and finished. I speak but in the
figures and comparisons of it; as Alexander kill'd his friend
Cleitus, being in his ales and his cups, so also Harry Monmouth,
being in his right wits and his good judgments, turn'd away the
fat knight with the great belly doublet; he was full of jests,
and gipes, and knaveries, and mocks; I have forgot his name.
GOWER. Sir John Falstaff.
FLUELLEN. That is he. I'll tell you there is good men porn at
Monmouth.
GOWER. Here comes his Majesty.
Alarum. Enter the KING, WARWICK, GLOUCESTER,
EXETER, and others, with prisoners. Flourish
KING HENRY. I was not angry since I came to France
Until this instant. Take a trumpet, herald,
Ride thou unto the horsemen on yond hill;
If they will fight with us, bid them come down
Or void the field; they do offend our sight.
If they'll do neither, we will come to them
And make them skirr away as swift as stones
Enforced from the old Assyrian slings;
Besides, we'll cut the throats of those we have,
And not a man of them that we shall take
Shall taste our mercy. Go and tell them so.
Enter MONTJOY
EXETER. Here comes the herald of the French, my liege.
GLOUCESTER. His eyes are humbler than they us'd to be.
KING HENRY. How now! What means this, herald? know'st thou not
That I have fin'd these bones of mine for ransom?
Com'st thou again for ransom?
MONTJOY. No, great King;
I come to thee for charitable licence,
That we may wander o'er this bloody field
To book our dead, and then to bury them;
To sort our nobles from our common men;
For many of our princes- woe the while!-
Lie drown'd and soak'd in mercenary blood;
So do our vulgar drench their peasant limbs
In blood of princes; and their wounded steeds
Fret fetlock deep in gore, and with wild rage
Yerk out their armed heels at their dead masters,
Killing them twice. O, give us leave, great King,
To view the field in safety, and dispose
Of their dead bodies!
KING HENRY. I tell thee truly, herald,
I know not if the day be ours or no;
For yet a many of your horsemen peer
And gallop o'er the field.
MONTJOY. The day is yours.
KING HENRY. Praised be God, and not our strength, for it!
What is this castle call'd that stands hard by?
MONTJOY. They call it Agincourt.
KING HENRY. Then call we this the field of Agincourt,
Fought on the day of Crispin Crispianus.
FLUELLEN. Your grandfather of famous memory, an't please your
Majesty, and your great-uncle Edward the Plack Prince of Wales,
as I have read in the chronicles, fought a most prave pattle here
in France.
KING HENRY. They did, Fluellen.
FLUELLEN. Your Majesty says very true; if your Majesties is
rememb'red of it, the Welshmen did good service in garden where
leeks did grow, wearing leeks in their Monmouth caps; which your
Majesty know to this hour is an honourable badge of the service;
and I do believe your Majesty takes no scorn to wear the leek
upon Saint Tavy's day.
KING HENRY. I wear it for a memorable honour;
For I am Welsh, you know, good countryman.
FLUELLEN. All the water in Wye cannot wash your Majesty's Welsh
plood out of your pody, I can tell you that. Got pless it and
preserve it as long as it pleases his Grace and his Majesty too!
KING HENRY. Thanks, good my countryman.
FLUELLEN. By Jeshu, I am your Majesty's countryman, care not who
know it; I will confess it to all the 'orld: I need not be
asham'd of your Majesty, praised be Got, so long as your Majesty
is an honest man.
Enter WILLIAMS
KING HENRY. God keep me so! Our heralds go with him:
Bring me just notice of the numbers dead
On both our parts. Call yonder fellow hither.
Exeunt heralds with MONTJOY
EXETER. Soldier, you must come to the King.
KING HENRY. Soldier, why wear'st thou that glove in thy cap?
WILLIAMS. An't please your Majesty, 'tis the gage of one that I
should fight withal, if he be alive.
KING HENRY. An Englishman?
WILLIAMS. An't please your Majesty, a rascal that swagger'd with me
last night; who, if 'a live and ever dare to challenge this
glove, I have sworn to take him a box o' th' ear; or if I can see
my glove in his cap- which he swore, as he was a soldier, he
would wear if alive- I will strike it out soundly.
KING HENRY. What think you, Captain Fluellen, is it fit this
soldier keep his oath?
FLUELLEN. He is a craven and a villain else, an't please your
Majesty, in my conscience.
KING HENRY. It may be his enemy is a gentlemen of great sort, quite
from the answer of his degree.
FLUELLEN. Though he be as good a gentleman as the Devil is, as
Lucifier and Belzebub himself, it is necessary, look your Grace,
that he keep his vow and his oath; if he be perjur'd, see you
now, his reputation is as arrant a villain and a Jacksauce as
ever his black shoe trod upon God's ground and his earth, in my
conscience, la.
KING HENRY. Then keep thy vow, sirrah, when thou meet'st the
fellow.
WILLIAMS. So I Will, my liege, as I live.
KING HENRY. Who serv'st thou under?
WILLIAMS. Under Captain Gower, my liege.
FLUELLEN. Gower is a good captain, and is good knowledge and
literatured in the wars.
KING HENRY. Call him hither to me, soldier.
WILLIAMS. I will, my liege. Exit
KING HENRY. Here, Fluellen; wear thou this favour for me, and stick
it in thy cap; when Alencon and myself were down together, I
pluck'd this glove from his helm. If any man challenge this, he
is a friend to Alencon and an enemy to our person; if thou
encounter any such, apprehend him, an thou dost me love.
FLUELLEN. Your Grace does me as great honours as can be desir'd in
the hearts of his subjects. I would fain see the man that has but
two legs that shall find himself aggrief'd at this glove, that is
all; but I would fain see it once, an please God of his grace
that I might see.
KING HENRY. Know'st thou Gower?
FLUELLEN. He is my dear friend, an please you.
KING HENRY. Pray thee, go seek him, and bring him to my tent.
FLUELLEN. I will fetch him. Exit
KING HENRY. My Lord of Warwick and my brother Gloucester,
Follow Fluellen closely at the heels;
The glove which I have given him for a favour
May haply purchase him a box o' th' ear.
It is the soldier's: I, by bargain, should
Wear it myself. Follow, good cousin Warwick;
If that the soldier strike him, as I judge
By his blunt bearing he will keep his word,
Some sudden mischief may arise of it;
For I do know Fluellen valiant,
And touch'd with choler, hot as gunpowder,
And quickly will return an injury;
Follow, and see there be no harm between them.
Go you with me, uncle of Exeter. Exeunt
SCENE VIII.
Before KING HENRY'S PAVILION
Enter GOWER and WILLIAMS
WILLIAMS. I warrant it is to knight you, Captain.
Enter FLUELLEN
FLUELLEN. God's will and his pleasure, Captain, I beseech you now,
come apace to the King: there is more good toward you
peradventure than is in your knowledge to dream of.
WILLIAMS. Sir, know you this glove?
FLUELLEN. Know the glove? I know the glove is a glove.
WILLIAMS. I know this; and thus I challenge it. [Strikes him]
FLUELLEN. 'Sblood, an arrant traitor as any's in the universal
world, or in France, or in England!
GOWER. How now, sir! you villain!
WILLIAMS. Do you think I'll be forsworn?
FLUELLEN. Stand away, Captain Gower; I will give treason his
payment into plows, I warrant you.
WILLIAMS. I am no traitor.
FLUELLEN. That's a lie in thy throat. I charge you in his Majesty's
name, apprehend him: he's a friend of the Duke Alencon's.
Enter WARWICK and GLOUCESTER
WARWICK. How now! how now! what's the matter?
FLUELLEN. My Lord of Warwick, here is- praised be God for it!- a
most contagious treason come to light, look you, as you shall
desire in a summer's day. Here is his Majesty.
Enter the KING and EXETER
KING HENRY. How now! what's the matter?
FLUELLEN. My liege, here is a villain and a traitor, that, look
your Grace, has struck the glove which your Majesty is take out
of the helmet of Alencon.
WILLIAMS. My liege, this was my glove: here is the fellow of it;
and he that I gave it to in change promis'd to wear it in his
cap; I promis'd to strike him if he did; I met this man with my
glove in his cap, and I have been as good as my word.
FLUELLEN. Your Majesty hear now, saving your Majesty's manhood,
what an arrant, rascally, beggarly, lousy knave it is; I hope
your Majesty is pear me testimony and witness, and will
avouchment, that this is the glove of Alencon that your Majesty
is give me; in your conscience, now.
KING HENRY. Give me thy glove, soldier; look, here is the fellow of
it.
'Twas I, indeed, thou promised'st to strike,
And thou hast given me most bitter terms.
FLUELLEN. An please your Majesty, let his neck answer for it, if
there is any martial law in the world.
KING HENRY. How canst thou make me satisfaction?
WILLIAMS. All offences, my lord, come from the heart; never came
any from mine that might offend your Majesty.
KING HENRY. It was ourself thou didst abuse.
WILLIAMS. Your Majesty came not like yourself: you appear'd to me
but as a common man; witness the night, your garments, your
lowliness; and what your Highness suffer'd under that shape I
beseech you take it for your own fault, and not mine; for had you
been as I took you for, I made no offence; therefore, I beseech
your Highness pardon me.
KING HENRY. Here, uncle Exeter, fill this glove with crowns,
And give it to this fellow. Keep it, fellow;
And wear it for an honour in thy cap
Till I do challenge it. Give him the crowns;
And, Captain, you must needs be friends with him.
FLUELLEN. By this day and this light, the fellow has mettle enough
in his belly: hold, there is twelve pence for you; and I pray you
to serve God, and keep you out of prawls, and prabbles, and
quarrels, and dissensions, and, I warrant you, it is the better
for you.
WILLIAMS. I will none of your money.
FLUELLEN. It is with a good will; I can tell you it will serve you
to mend your shoes. Come, wherefore should you be so pashful?
Your shoes is not so good. 'Tis a good silling, I warrant you, or
I will change it.
Enter an ENGLISH HERALD
KING HENRY. Now, herald, are the dead numb'red?
HERALD. Here is the number of the slaught'red French.
[Gives a paper]
KING HENRY. What prisoners of good sort are taken, uncle?
EXETER. Charles Duke of Orleans, nephew to the King;
John Duke of Bourbon, and Lord Bouciqualt;
Of other lords and barons, knights and squires,
Full fifteen hundred, besides common men.
KING HENRY. This note doth tell me of ten thousand French
That in the field lie slain; of princes in this number,
And nobles bearing banners, there lie dead
One hundred twenty-six; added to these,
Of knights, esquires, and gallant gentlemen,
Eight thousand and four hundred; of the which
Five hundred were but yesterday dubb'd knights.
So that, in these ten thousand they have lost,
There are but sixteen hundred mercenaries;
The rest are princes, barons, lords, knights, squires,
And gentlemen of blood and quality.
The names of those their nobles that lie dead:
Charles Delabreth, High Constable of France;
Jaques of Chatillon, Admiral of France;
The master of the cross-bows, Lord Rambures;
Great Master of France, the brave Sir Guichard Dolphin;
John Duke of Alencon; Antony Duke of Brabant,
The brother to the Duke of Burgundy;
And Edward Duke of Bar. Of lusty earls,
Grandpre and Roussi, Fauconbridge and Foix,
Beaumont and Marle, Vaudemont and Lestrake.
Here was a royal fellowship of death!
Where is the number of our English dead?
[HERALD presents another paper]
Edward the Duke of York, the Earl of Suffolk,
Sir Richard Kikely, Davy Gam, Esquire;
None else of name; and of all other men
But five and twenty. O God, thy arm was here!
And not to us, but to thy arm alone,
Ascribe we all. When, without stratagem,
But in plain shock and even play of battle,
Was ever known so great and little los
On one part and on th' other? Take it, God,
For it is none but thine.
EXETER. 'Tis wonderful!
KING HENRY. Come, go we in procession to the village;
And be it death proclaimed through our host
To boast of this or take that praise from God
Which is his only.
FLUELLEN. Is it not lawful, an please your Majesty, to tell how
many is kill'd?
KING HENRY. Yes, Captain; but with this acknowledgment,
That God fought for us.
FLUELLEN. Yes, my conscience, he did us great good.
KING HENRY. Do we all holy rites:
Let there be sung 'Non nobis' and 'Te Deum';
The dead with charity enclos'd in clay-
And then to Calais; and to England then;
Where ne'er from France arriv'd more happy men. Exeunt
<>
ACT V. PROLOGUE.
Enter CHORUS
CHORUS. Vouchsafe to those that have not read the story
That I may prompt them; and of such as have,
I humbly pray them to admit th' excuse
Of time, of numbers, and due course of things,
Which cannot in their huge and proper life
Be here presented. Now we bear the King
Toward Calais. Grant him there. There seen,
Heave him away upon your winged thoughts
Athwart the sea. Behold, the English beach
Pales in the flood with men, with wives, and boys,
Whose shouts and claps out-voice the deep-mouth'd sea,
Which, like a mighty whiffler, fore the King
Seems to prepare his way. So let him land,
And solemnly see him set on to London.
So swift a pace hath thought that even now
You may imagine him upon Blackheath;
Where that his lords desire him to have borne
His bruised helmet and his bended sword
Before him through the city. He forbids it,
Being free from vainness and self-glorious pride;
Giving full trophy, signal, and ostent,
Quite from himself to God. But now behold
In the quick forge and working-house of thought,
How London doth pour out her citizens!
The mayor and all his brethren in best sort-
Like to the senators of th' antique Rome,
With the plebeians swarming at their heels-
Go forth and fetch their conqu'ring Caesar in;
As, by a lower but loving likelihood,
Were now the General of our gracious Empress-
As in good time he may- from Ireland coming,
Bringing rebellion broached on his sword,
How many would the peaceful city quit
To welcome him! Much more, and much more cause,
Did they this Harry. Now in London place him-
As yet the lamentation of the French
Invites the King of England's stay at home;
The Emperor's coming in behalf of France
To order peace between them; and omit
All the occurrences, whatever chanc'd,
Till Harry's back-return again to France.
There must we bring him; and myself have play'd
The interim, by rememb'ring you 'tis past.
Then brook abridgment; and your eyes advance,
After your thoughts, straight back again to France. Exit
SCENE I.
France. The English camp
Enter FLUELLEN and GOWER
GOWER. Nay, that's right; but why wear you your leek to-day? Saint
Davy's day is past.
FLUELLEN. There is occasions and causes why and wherefore in all
things. I will tell you, ass my friend, Captain Gower: the
rascally, scald, beggarly, lousy, pragging knave, Pistol- which
you and yourself and all the world know to be no petter than a
fellow, look you now, of no merits- he is come to me, and prings
me pread and salt yesterday, look you, and bid me eat my leek; it
was in a place where I could not breed no contendon with him; but
I will be so bold as to wear it in my cap till I see him once
again, and then I will tell him a little piece of my desires.
Enter PISTOL
GOWER. Why, here he comes, swelling like a turkey-cock.
FLUELLEN. 'Tis no matter for his swellings nor his turkey-cocks.
God pless you, Aunchient Pistol! you scurvy, lousy knave, God
pless you!
PISTOL. Ha! art thou bedlam? Dost thou thirst, base Troyan,
To have me fold up Parca's fatal web?
Hence! I am qualmish at the smell of leek.
FLUELLEN. I peseech you heartily, scurvy, lousy knave, at my
desires, and my requests, and my petitions, to eat, look you,
this leek; because, look you, you do not love it, nor your
affections, and your appetites, and your digestions, does not
agree with it, I would desire you to eat it.
PISTOL. Not for Cadwallader and all his goats.
FLUELLEN. There is one goat for you. [Strikes him] Will you be so
good, scald knave, as eat it?
PISTOL. Base Troyan, thou shalt die.
FLUELLEN. You say very true, scald knave- when God's will is. I
will desire you to live in the meantime, and eat your victuals;
come, there is sauce for it. [Striking him again] You call'd me
yesterday mountain-squire; but I will make you to-day a squire of
low degree. I pray you fall to; if you can mock a leek, you can
eat a leek.
GOWER. Enough, Captain, you have astonish'd him.
FLUELLEN. I say I will make him eat some part of my leek, or I will
peat his pate four days. Bite, I pray you, it is good for your
green wound and your ploody coxcomb.
PISTOL. Must I bite?
FLUELLEN. Yes, certainly, and out of doubt, and out of question
too, and ambiguides.
PISTOL. By this leek, I will most horribly revenge- I eat and eat,
I swear-
FLUELLEN. Eat, I pray you; will you have some more sauce to your
leek? There is not enough leek to swear by.
PISTOL. Quiet thy cudgel: thou dost see I eat.
FLUELLEN. Much good do you, scald knave, heartily. Nay, pray you
throw none away; the skin is good for your broken coxcomb. When
you take occasions to see leeks hereafter, I pray you mock at
'em; that is all.
PISTOL. Good.
FLUELLEN. Ay, leeks is good. Hold you, there is a groat to heal
your pate.
PISTOL. Me a groat!
FLUELLEN. Yes, verily and in truth, you shall take it; or I have
another leek in my pocket which you shall eat.
PISTOL. I take thy groat in earnest of revenge.
FLUELLEN. If I owe you anything I will pay you in cudgels; you
shall be a woodmonger, and buy nothing of me but cudgels. God bye
you, and keep you, and heal your pate.
Exit
PISTOL. All hell shall stir for this.
GOWER. Go, go: you are a couterfeit cowardly knave. Will you mock
at an ancient tradition, begun upon an honourable respect, and
worn as a memorable trophy of predeceased valour, and dare not
avouch in your deeds any of your words? I have seen you gleeking
and galling at this gentleman twice or thrice. You thought,
because he could not speak English in the native garb, he could
not therefore handle an English cudgel; you find it otherwise,
and henceforth let a Welsh correction teach you a good English
condition. Fare ye well. Exit
PISTOL. Doth Fortune play the huswife with me now?
News have I that my Nell is dead i' th' spital
Of malady of France;
And there my rendezvous is quite cut off.
Old I do wax; and from my weary limbs
Honour is cudgell'd. Well, bawd I'll turn,
And something lean to cutpurse of quick hand.
To England will I steal, and there I'll steal;
And patches will I get unto these cudgell'd scars,
And swear I got them in the Gallia wars. Exit
SCENE II.
France. The FRENCH KING'S palace
Enter at one door, KING HENRY, EXETER, BEDFORD, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK,
WESTMORELAND, and other LORDS; at another, the FRENCH KING, QUEEN ISABEL,
the PRINCESS KATHERINE, ALICE, and other LADIES; the DUKE OF BURGUNDY,
and his train
KING HENRY. Peace to this meeting, wherefore we are met!
Unto our brother France, and to our sister,
Health and fair time of day; joy and good wishes
To our most fair and princely cousin Katherine.
And, as a branch and member of this royalty,
By whom this great assembly is contriv'd,
We do salute you, Duke of Burgundy.
And, princes French, and peers, health to you all!
FRENCH KING. Right joyous are we to behold your face,
Most worthy brother England; fairly met!
So are you, princes English, every one.
QUEEN ISABEL. So happy be the issue, brother England,
Of this good day and of this gracious meeting
As we are now glad to behold your eyes-
Your eyes, which hitherto have home in them,
Against the French that met them in their bent,
The fatal balls of murdering basilisks;
The venom of such looks, we fairly hope,
Have lost their quality; and that this day
Shall change all griefs and quarrels into love.
KING HENRY. To cry amen to that, thus we appear.
QUEEN ISABEL. You English princes an, I do salute you.
BURGUNDY. My duty to you both, on equal love,
Great Kings of France and England! That I have labour'd
With all my wits, my pains, and strong endeavours,
To bring your most imperial Majesties
Unto this bar and royal interview,
Your mightiness on both parts best can witness.
Since then my office hath so far prevail'd
That face to face and royal eye to eye
You have congreeted, let it not disgrace me
If I demand, before this royal view,
What rub or what impediment there is
Why that the naked, poor, and mangled Peace,
Dear nurse of arts, plenties, and joyful births,
Should not in this best garden of the world,
Our fertile France, put up her lovely visage?
Alas, she hath from France too long been chas'd!
And all her husbandry doth lie on heaps,
Corrupting in it own fertility.
Her vine, the merry cheerer of the heart,
Unpruned dies; her hedges even-pleach'd,
Like prisoners wildly overgrown with hair,
Put forth disorder'd twigs; her fallow leas
The darnel, hemlock, and rank fumitory,
Doth root upon, while that the coulter rusts
That should deracinate such savagery;
The even mead, that erst brought sweetly forth
The freckled cowslip, burnet, and green clover,
Wanting the scythe, all uncorrected, rank,
Conceives by idleness, and nothing teems
But hateful docks, rough thistles, kecksies, burs,
Losing both beauty and utility.
And as our vineyards, fallows, meads, and hedges,
Defective in their natures, grow to wildness;
Even so our houses and ourselves and children
Have lost, or do not learn for want of time,
The sciences that should become our country;
But grow, like savages- as soldiers will,
That nothing do but meditate on blood-
To swearing and stern looks, diffus'd attire,
And everything that seems unnatural.
Which to reduce into our former favout
You are assembled; and my speech entreats
That I may know the let why gentle Peace
Should not expel these inconveniences
And bless us with her former qualities.
KING HENRY. If, Duke of Burgundy, you would the peace
Whose want gives growth to th' imperfections
Which you have cited, you must buy that peace
With full accord to all our just demands;
Whose tenours and particular effects
You have, enschedul'd briefly, in your hands.
BURGUNDY. The King hath heard them; to the which as yet
There is no answer made.
KING HENRY. Well then, the peace,
Which you before so urg'd, lies in his answer.
FRENCH KING. I have but with a cursorary eye
O'erglanced the articles; pleaseth your Grace
To appoint some of your council presently
To sit with us once more, with better heed
To re-survey them, we will suddenly
Pass our accept and peremptory answer.
KING HENRY. Brother, we shall. Go, uncle Exeter,
And brother Clarence, and you, brother Gloucester,
Warwick, and Huntington, go with the King;
And take with you free power to ratify,
Augment, or alter, as your wisdoms best
Shall see advantageable for our dignity,
Any thing in or out of our demands;
And we'll consign thereto. Will you, fair sister,
Go with the princes or stay here with us?
QUEEN ISABEL. Our gracious brother, I will go with them;
Haply a woman's voice may do some good,
When articles too nicely urg'd be stood on.
KING HENRY. Yet leave our cousin Katherine here with us;
She is our capital demand, compris'd
Within the fore-rank of our articles.
QUEEN ISABEL. She hath good leave.
Exeunt all but the KING, KATHERINE, and ALICE
KING HENRY. Fair Katherine, and most fair,
Will you vouchsafe to teach a soldier terms
Such as will enter at a lady's ear,
And plead his love-suit to her gentle heart?
KATHERINE. Your Majesty shall mock me; I cannot speak your England.
KING HENRY. O fair Katherine, if you will love me soundly with your
French heart, I will be glad to hear you confess it brokenly with
your English tongue. Do you like me, Kate?
KATHERINE. Pardonnez-moi, I cannot tell vat is like me.
KING HENRY. An angel is like you, Kate, and you are like an angel.
KATHERINE. Que dit-il? que je suis semblable a les anges?
ALICE. Oui, vraiment, sauf votre grace, ainsi dit-il.
KING HENRY. I said so, dear Katherine, and I must not blush to
affirm it.
KATHERINE. O bon Dieu! les langues des hommes sont pleines de
tromperies.
KING HENRY. What says she, fair one? that the tongues of men are
full of deceits?
ALICE. Oui, dat de tongues of de mans is be full of deceits- dat is
de Princess.
KING HENRY. The Princess is the better English-woman. I' faith,
Kate, my wooing is fit for thy understanding: I am glad thou
canst speak no better English; for if thou couldst, thou wouldst
find me such a plain king that thou wouldst think I had sold my
farm to buy my crown. I know no ways to mince it in love, but
directly to say 'I love you.' Then, if you urge me farther than
to say 'Do you in faith?' I wear out my suit. Give me your
answer; i' faith, do; and so clap hands and a bargain. How say
you, lady?
KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, me understand well.
KING HENRY. Marry, if you would put me to verses or to dance for
your sake, Kate, why you undid me; for the one I have neither
words nor measure, and for the other I have no strength in
measure, yet a reasonable measure in strength. If I could win a
lady at leap-frog, or by vaulting into my saddle with my armour
on my back, under the correction of bragging be it spoken, I
should quickly leap into wife. Or if I might buffet for my love,
or bound my horse for her favours, I could lay on like a butcher,
and sit like a jack-an-apes, never off. But, before God, Kate, I
cannot look greenly, nor gasp out my cloquence, nor I have no
cunning in protestation; only downright oaths, which I never use
till urg'd, nor never break for urging. If thou canst love a
fellow of this temper, Kate, whose face is not worth sunburning,
that never looks in his glass for love of anything he sees there,
let thine eye be thy cook. I speak to thee plain soldier. If thou
canst love me for this, take me; if not, to say to thee that I
shall die is true- but for thy love, by the Lord, no; yet I love
thee too. And while thou liv'st, dear Kate, take a fellow of
plain and uncoined constancy; for he perforce must do thee right,
because he hath not the gift to woo in other places; for these
fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into
ladies' favours, they do always reason themselves out again.
What! a speaker is but a prater: a rhyme is but a ballad. A good
leg will fall; a straight back will stoop; a black beard will
turn white; a curl'd pate will grow bald; a fair face will
wither; a full eye will wax hollow. But a good heart, Kate, is
the sun and the moon; or, rather, the sun, and not the moon- for
it shines bright and never changes, but keeps his course truly.
If thou would have such a one, take me; and take me, take a
soldier; take a soldier, take a king. And what say'st thou, then,
to my love? Speak, my fair, and fairly, I pray thee.
KATHERINE. Is it possible dat I sould love de enemy of France?
KING HENRY. No, it is not possible you should love the enemy of
France, Kate, but in loving me you should love the friend of
France; for I love France so well that I will not part with a
village of it; I will have it all mine. And, Kate, when France is
mine and I am yours, then yours is France and you are mine.
KATHERINE. I cannot tell vat is dat.
KING HENRY. No, Kate? I will tell thee in French, which I am sure
will hang upon my tongue like a new-married wife about her
husband's neck, hardly to be shook off. Je quand sur le
possession de France, et quand vous avez le possession de moi-
let me see, what then? Saint Denis be my speed!- donc votre est
France et vous etes mienne. It is as easy for me, Kate, to
conquer the kingdom as to speak so much more French: I shall
never move thee in French, unless it be to laugh at me.
KATHERINE. Sauf votre honneur, le Francais que vous parlez, il est
meilleur que l'Anglais lequel je parle.
KING HENRY. No, faith, is't not, Kate; but thy speaking of my
tongue, and I thine, most truly falsely, must needs be granted to
be much at one. But, Kate, dost thou understand thus much
English- Canst thou love me?
KATHERINE. I cannot tell.
KING HENRY. Can any of your neighbours tell, Kate? I'll ask them.
Come, I know thou lovest me; and at night, when you come into
your closet, you'll question this gentlewoman about me; and I
know, Kate, you will to her dispraise those parts in me that you
love with your heart. But, good Kate, mock me mercifully; the
rather, gentle Princess, because I love thee cruelly. If ever
thou beest mine, Kate, as I have a saving faith within me tells
me thou shalt, I get thee with scambling, and thou must therefore
needs prove a good soldier-breeder. Shall not thou and I, between
Saint Denis and Saint George, compound a boy, half French, half
English, that shall go to Constantinople and take the Turk by the
beard? Shall we not? What say'st thou, my fair flower-de-luce?
KATHERINE. I do not know dat.
KING HENRY. No: 'tis hereafter to know, but now to promise; do but
now promise, Kate, you will endeavour for your French part of
such a boy; and for my English moiety take the word of a king and
a bachelor. How answer you, la plus belle Katherine du monde, mon
tres cher et divin deesse?
KATHERINE. Your Majestee ave fausse French enough to deceive de
most sage damoiselle dat is en France.
KING HENRY. Now, fie upon my false French! By mine honour, in true
English, I love thee, Kate; by which honour I dare not swear thou
lovest me; yet my blood begins to flatter me that thou dost,
notwithstanding the poor and untempering effect of my visage. Now
beshrew my father's ambition! He was thinking of civil wars when
he got me; therefore was I created with a stubborn outside, with
an aspect of iron, that when I come to woo ladies I fright them.
But, in faith, Kate, the elder I wax, the better I shall appear:
my comfort is, that old age, that in layer-up of beauty, can do
no more spoil upon my face; thou hast me, if thou hast me, at the
worst; and thou shalt wear me, if thou wear me, better and
better. And therefore tell me, most fair Katherine, will you have
me? Put off your maiden blushes; avouch the thoughts of your
heart with the looks of an empress; take me by the hand and say
'Harry of England, I am thine.' Which word thou shalt no sooner
bless mine ear withal but I will tell thee aloud 'England is
thine, Ireland is thine, France is thine, and Henry Plantagenet
is thine'; who, though I speak it before his face, if he be not
fellow with the best king, thou shalt find the best king of good
fellows. Come, your answer in broken music- for thy voice is
music and thy English broken; therefore, Queen of all, Katherine,
break thy mind to me in broken English, wilt thou have me?
KATHERINE. Dat is as it shall please de roi mon pere.
KING HENRY. Nay, it will please him well, Kate- it shall please
him, Kate.
KATHERINE. Den it sall also content me.
KING HENRY. Upon that I kiss your hand, and I can you my queen.
KATHERINE. Laissez, mon seigneur, laissez, laissez! Ma foi, je ne
veux point que vous abaissiez votre grandeur en baisant la main
d'une, notre seigneur, indigne serviteur; excusez-moi, je vous
supplie, mon tres puissant seigneur.
KING HENRY. Then I will kiss your lips, Kate.
KATHERINE. Les dames et demoiselles pour etre baisees devant leur
noces, il n'est pas la coutume de France.
KING HENRY. Madame my interpreter, what says she?
ALICE. Dat it is not be de fashion pour le ladies of France- I
cannot tell vat is baiser en Anglish.
KING HENRY. To kiss.
ALICE. Your Majestee entendre bettre que moi.
KING HENRY. It is not a fashion for the maids in France to kiss
before they are married, would she say?
ALICE. Oui, vraiment.
KING HENRY. O Kate, nice customs curtsy to great kings. Dear Kate,
you and I cannot be confin'd within the weak list of a country's
fashion; we are the makers of manners, Kate; and the liberty that
follows our places stops the mouth of all find-faults- as I will
do yours for upholding the nice fashion of your country in
denying me a kiss; therefore, patiently and yielding. [Kissing
her] You have witchcraft in your lips, Kate: there is more
eloquence in a sugar touch of them than in the tongues of the
French council; and they should sooner persuade Henry of England
than a general petition of monarchs. Here comes your father.
Enter the FRENCH POWER and the ENGLISH LORDS
BURGUNDY. God save your Majesty! My royal cousin,
Teach you our princess English?
KING HENRY. I would have her learn, my fair cousin, how perfectly I
love her; and that is good English.
BURGUNDY. Is she not apt?
KING HENRY. Our tongue is rough, coz, and my condition is not
smooth; so that, having neither the voice nor the heart of
flattery about me, I cannot so conjure up the spirit of love in
her that he will appear in his true likeness.
BURGUNDY. Pardon the frankness of my mirth, if I answer you for
that. If you would conjure in her, you must make a circle; if
conjure up love in her in his true likeness, he must appear naked
and blind. Can you blame her, then, being a maid yet ros'd over
with the virgin crimson of modesty, if she deny the appearance of
a naked blind boy in her naked seeing self? It were, my lord, a
hard condition for a maid to consign to.
KING HENRY. Yet they do wink and yield, as love is blind and
enforces.
BURGUNDY. They are then excus'd, my lord, when they see not what
they do.
KING HENRY. Then, good my lord, teach your cousin to consent
winking.
BURGUNDY. I will wink on her to consent, my lord, if you will teach
her to know my meaning; for maids well summer'd and warm kept are
like flies at Bartholomew-tide, blind, though they have their
eyes; and then they will endure handling, which before would not
abide looking on.
KING HENRY. This moral ties me over to time and a hot summer; and
so I shall catch the fly, your cousin, in the latter end, and she
must be blind too.
BURGUNDY. As love is, my lord, before it loves.
KING HENRY. It is so; and you may, some of you, thank love for my
blindness, who cannot see many a fair French city for one fair
French maid that stands in my way.
FRENCH KING. Yes, my lord, you see them perspectively, the cities
turned into a maid; for they are all girdled with maiden walls
that war hath never ent'red.
KING HENRY. Shall Kate be my wife?
FRENCH KING. So please you.
KING HENRY. I am content, so the maiden cities you talk of may wait
on her; so the maid that stood in the way for my wish shall show
me the way to my will.
FRENCH KING. We have consented to all terms of reason.
KING HENRY. Is't so, my lords of England?
WESTMORELAND. The king hath granted every article:
His daughter first; and then in sequel, all,
According to their firm proposed natures.
EXETER. Only he hath not yet subscribed this:
Where your Majesty demands that the King of France, having any
occasion to write for matter of grant, shall name your Highness
in this form and with this addition, in French, Notre tres cher
fils Henri, Roi d'Angleterre, Heritier de France; and thus in
Latin, Praeclarissimus filius noster Henricus, Rex Angliae et
Haeres Franciae.
FRENCH KING. Nor this I have not, brother, so denied
But our request shall make me let it pass.
KING HENRY. I pray you, then, in love and dear alliance,
Let that one article rank with the rest;
And thereupon give me your daughter.
FRENCH KING. Take her, fair son, and from her blood raise up
Issue to me; that the contending kingdoms
Of France and England, whose very shores look pale
With envy of each other's happiness,
May cease their hatred; and this dear conjunction
Plant neighbourhood and Christian-like accord
In their sweet bosoms, that never war advance
His bleeding sword 'twixt England and fair France.
LORDS. Amen!
KING HENRY. Now, welcome, Kate; and bear me witness all,
That here I kiss her as my sovereign queen. [Floulish]
QUEEN ISABEL. God, the best maker of all marriages,
Combine your hearts in one, your realms in one!
As man and wife, being two, are one in love,
So be there 'twixt your kingdoms such a spousal
That never may ill office or fell jealousy,
Which troubles oft the bed of blessed marriage,
Thrust in between the paction of these kingdoms,
To make divorce of their incorporate league;
That English may as French, French Englishmen,
Receive each other. God speak this Amen!
ALL. Amen!
KING HENRY. Prepare we for our marriage; on which day,
My Lord of Burgundy, we'll take your oath,
And all the peers', for surety of our leagues.
Then shall I swear to Kate, and you to me,
And may our oaths well kept and prosp'rous be!
Sennet. Exeunt
EPILOGUE
EPILOGUE.
Enter CHORUS
CHORUS. Thus far, with rough and all-unable pen,
Our bending author hath pursu'd the story,
In little room confining mighty men,
Mangling by starts the full course of their glory.
Small time, but, in that small, most greatly lived
This star of England. Fortune made his sword;
By which the world's best garden he achieved,
And of it left his son imperial lord.
Henry the Sixth, in infant bands crown'd king
Of France and England, did this king succeed;
Whose state so many had the managing
That they lost France and made his England bleed;
Which oft our stage hath shown; and, for their sake,
In your fair minds let this acceptance take. Exit
THE END
<>
1592
THE FIRST PART OF HENRY THE SIXTH
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
KING HENRY THE SIXTH
DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, uncle to the King, and Protector
DUKE OF BEDFORD, uncle to the King, and Regent of France
THOMAS BEAUFORT, DUKE OF EXETER, great-uncle to the king
HENRY BEAUFORT, great-uncle to the King, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER,
and afterwards CARDINAL
JOHN BEAUFORT, EARL OF SOMERSET, afterwards Duke
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, son of Richard late Earl of Cambridge,
afterwards DUKE OF YORK
EARL OF WARWICK
EARL OF SALISBURY
EARL OF SUFFOLK
LORD TALBOT, afterwards EARL OF SHREWSBURY
JOHN TALBOT, his son
EDMUND MORTIMER, EARL OF MARCH
SIR JOHN FASTOLFE
SIR WILLIAM LUCY
SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE
SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE
MAYOR of LONDON
WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower
VERNON, of the White Rose or York faction
BASSET, of the Red Rose or Lancaster faction
A LAWYER
GAOLERS, to Mortimer
CHARLES, Dauphin, and afterwards King of France
REIGNIER, DUKE OF ANJOU, and titular King of Naples
DUKE OF BURGUNDY
DUKE OF ALENCON
BASTARD OF ORLEANS
GOVERNOR OF PARIS
MASTER-GUNNER OF ORLEANS, and his SON
GENERAL OF THE FRENCH FORCES in Bordeaux
A FRENCH SERGEANT
A PORTER
AN OLD SHEPHERD, father to Joan la Pucelle
MARGARET, daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to
King Henry
COUNTESS OF AUVERGNE
JOAN LA PUCELLE, Commonly called JOAN OF ARC
Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers, Soldiers,
Messengers, English and French Attendants. Fiends appearing
to La Pucelle
<>
SCENE:
England and France
The First Part of King Henry the Sixth
ACT I. SCENE 1.
Westminster Abbey
Dead March. Enter the funeral of KING HENRY THE FIFTH,
attended on by the DUKE OF BEDFORD, Regent of France,
the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, Protector, the DUKE OF EXETER,
the EARL OF WARWICK, the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER
BEDFORD. Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to
night! Comets, importing change of times and states,
Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky
And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
That have consented unto Henry's death!
King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.
GLOUCESTER. England ne'er had a king until his time.
Virtue he had, deserving to command;
His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams;
His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings;
His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
More dazzled and drove back his enemies
Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces.
What should I say? His deeds exceed all speech:
He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered.
EXETER. We mourn in black; why mourn we not in blood?
Henry is dead and never shall revive.
Upon a wooden coffin we attend;
And death's dishonourable victory
We with our stately presence glorify,
Like captives bound to a triumphant car.
What! shall we curse the planets of mishap
That plotted thus our glory's overthrow?
Or shall we think the subtle-witted French
Conjurers and sorcerers, that, afraid of him,
By magic verses have contriv'd his end?
WINCHESTER. He was a king bless'd of the King of kings;
Unto the French the dreadful judgment-day
So dreadful will not be as was his sight.
The battles of the Lord of Hosts he fought;
The Church's prayers made him so prosperous.
GLOUCESTER. The Church! Where is it? Had not churchmen
pray'd,
His thread of life had not so soon decay'd.
None do you like but an effeminate prince,
Whom like a school-boy you may overawe.
WINCHESTER. Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art
Protector
And lookest to command the Prince and realm.
Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe
More than God or religious churchmen may.
GLOUCESTER. Name not religion, for thou lov'st the flesh;
And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st,
Except it be to pray against thy foes.
BEDFORD. Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace;
Let's to the altar. Heralds, wait on us.
Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms,
Since arms avail not, now that Henry's dead.
Posterity, await for wretched years,
When at their mothers' moist'ned eyes babes shall suck,
Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears,
And none but women left to wail the dead.
HENRY the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate:
Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils,
Combat with adverse planets in the heavens.
A far more glorious star thy soul will make
Than Julius Caesar or bright
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. My honourable lords, health to you all!
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
Of loss, of slaughter, and discomfiture:
Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans,
Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.
BEDFORD. What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse?
Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns
Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.
GLOUCESTER. Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up?
If Henry were recall'd to life again,
These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.
EXETER. How were they lost? What treachery was us'd?
MESSENGER. No treachery, but want of men and money.
Amongst the soldiers this is muttered
That here you maintain several factions;
And whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought,
You are disputing of your generals:
One would have ling'ring wars, with little cost;
Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings;
A third thinks, without expense at all,
By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.
Awake, awake, English nobility!
Let not sloth dim your honours, new-begot.
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
Of England's coat one half is cut away.
EXETER. Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
These tidings would call forth their flowing tides.
BEDFORD. Me they concern; Regent I am of France.
Give me my steeled coat; I'll fight for France.
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes!
Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes,
To weep their intermissive miseries.
Enter a second MESSENGER
SECOND MESSENGER. Lords, view these letters full of bad
mischance.
France is revolted from the English quite,
Except some petty towns of no import.
The Dauphin Charles is crowned king in Rheims;
The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd;
Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part;
The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side.
EXETER. The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him!
O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?
GLOUCESTER. We will not fly but to our enemies' throats.
Bedford, if thou be slack I'll fight it out.
BEDFORD. Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness?
An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,
Wherewith already France is overrun.
Enter a third MESSENGER
THIRD MESSENGER. My gracious lords, to add to your
laments,
Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse,
I must inform you of a dismal fight
Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.
WINCHESTER. What! Wherein Talbot overcame? Is't so?
THIRD MESSENGER. O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was
o'erthrown.
The circumstance I'll tell you more at large.
The tenth of August last this dreadful lord,
Retiring from the siege of Orleans,
Having full scarce six thousand in his troop,
By three and twenty thousand of the French
Was round encompassed and set upon.
No leisure had he to enrank his men;
He wanted pikes to set before his archers;
Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd out of hedges
They pitched in the ground confusedly
To keep the horsemen off from breaking in.
More than three hours the fight continued;
Where valiant Talbot, above human thought,
Enacted wonders with his sword and lance:
Hundreds he sent to hell, and none durst stand him;
Here, there, and everywhere, enrag'd he slew
The French exclaim'd the devil was in arms;
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him.
His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,
'A Talbot! a Talbot!' cried out amain,
And rush'd into the bowels of the battle.
Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up
If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward.
He, being in the vaward plac'd behind
With purpose to relieve and follow them-
Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke;
Hence grew the general wreck and massacre.
Enclosed were they with their enemies.
A base Walloon, to win the Dauphin's grace,
Thrust Talbot with a spear into the back;
Whom all France, with their chief assembled strength,
Durst not presume to look once in the face.
BEDFORD. Is Talbot slain? Then I will slay myself,
For living idly here in pomp and ease,
Whilst such a worthy leader, wanting aid,
Unto his dastard foemen is betray'd.
THIRD MESSENGER. O no, he lives, but is took prisoner,
And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford;
Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise.
BEDFORD. His ransom there is none but I shall pay.
I'll hale the Dauphin headlong from his throne;
His crown shall be the ransom of my friend;
Four of their lords I'll change for one of ours.
Farewell, my masters; to my task will I;
Bonfires in France forthwith I am to make
To keep our great Saint George's feast withal.
Ten thousand soldiers with me I will take,
Whose bloody deeds shall make an Europe quake.
THIRD MESSENGER. So you had need; for Orleans is besieg'd;
The English army is grown weak and faint;
The Earl of Salisbury craveth supply
And hardly keeps his men from mutiny,
Since they, so few, watch such a multitude.
EXETER. Remember, lords, your oaths to Henry sworn,
Either to quell the Dauphin utterly,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke.
BEDFORD. I do remember it, and here take my leave
To go about my preparation. Exit
GLOUCESTER. I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can
To view th' artillery and munition;
And then I will proclaim young Henry king. Exit
EXETER. To Eltham will I, where the young King is,
Being ordain'd his special governor;
And for his safety there I'll best devise. Exit
WINCHESTER. [Aside] Each hath his place and function to
attend:
I am left out; for me nothing remains.
But long I will not be Jack out of office.
The King from Eltham I intend to steal,
And sit at chiefest stern of public weal. Exeunt
SCENE 2.
France. Before Orleans
Sound a flourish. Enter CHARLES THE DAUPHIN, ALENCON,
and REIGNIER, marching with drum and soldiers
CHARLES. Mars his true moving, even as in the heavens
So in the earth, to this day is not known.
Late did he shine upon the English side;
Now we are victors, upon us he smiles.
What towns of any moment but we have?
At pleasure here we lie near Orleans;
Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts,
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.
ALENCON. They want their porridge and their fat bull
beeves.
Either they must be dieted like mules
And have their provender tied to their mouths,
Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice.
REIGNIER. Let's raise the siege. Why live we idly here?
Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear;
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury,
And he may well in fretting spend his gall
Nor men nor money hath he to make war.
CHARLES. Sound, sound alarum; we will rush on them.
Now for the honour of the forlorn French!
Him I forgive my death that killeth me,
When he sees me go back one foot or flee. Exeunt
Here alarum. They are beaten hack by the English, with
great loss. Re-enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and REIGNIER
CHARLES. Who ever saw the like? What men have I!
Dogs! cowards! dastards! I would ne'er have fled
But that they left me midst my enemies.
REIGNIER. Salisbury is a desperate homicide;
He fighteth as one weary of his life.
The other lords, like lions wanting food,
Do rush upon us as their hungry prey.
ALENCON. Froissart, a countryman of ours, records
England all Olivers and Rowlands bred
During the time Edward the Third did reign.
More truly now may this be verified;
For none but Samsons and Goliases
It sendeth forth to skirmish. One to ten!
Lean raw-bon'd rascals! Who would e'er suppose
They had such courage and audacity?
CHARLES. Let's leave this town; for they are hare-brain'd
slaves,
And hunger will enforce them to be more eager.
Of old I know them; rather with their teeth
The walls they'll tear down than forsake the siege.
REIGNIER. I think by some odd gimmers or device
Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on;
Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do.
By my consent, we'll even let them alone.
ALENCON. Be it so.
Enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS
BASTARD. Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.
CHARLES. Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.
BASTARD. Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd.
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?
Be not dismay'd, for succour is at hand.
A holy maid hither with me I bring,
Which, by a vision sent to her from heaven,
Ordained is to raise this tedious siege
And drive the English forth the bounds of France.
The spirit of deep prophecy she hath,
Exceeding the nine sibyls of old Rome:
What's past and what's to come she can descry.
Speak, shall I call her in? Believe my words,
For they are certain and unfallible.
CHARLES. Go, call her in. [Exit BASTARD]
But first, to try her skill,
Reignier, stand thou as Dauphin in my place;
Question her proudly; let thy looks be stern;
By this means shall we sound what skill she hath.
Re-enter the BASTARD OF ORLEANS with
JOAN LA PUCELLE
REIGNIER. Fair maid, is 't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?
PUCELLE. Reignier, is 't thou that thinkest to beguile me?
Where is the Dauphin? Come, come from behind;
I know thee well, though never seen before.
Be not amaz'd, there's nothing hid from me.
In private will I talk with thee apart.
Stand back, you lords, and give us leave awhile.
REIGNIER. She takes upon her bravely at first dash.
PUCELLE. Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art.
Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd
To shine on my contemptible estate.
Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks,
God's Mother deigned to appear to me,
And in a vision full of majesty
Will'd me to leave my base vocation
And free my country from calamity
Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success.
In complete glory she reveal'd herself;
And whereas I was black and swart before,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me
That beauty am I bless'd with which you may see.
Ask me what question thou canst possible,
And I will answer unpremeditated.
My courage try by combat if thou dar'st,
And thou shalt find that I exceed my sex.
Resolve on this: thou shalt be fortunate
If thou receive me for thy warlike mate.
CHARLES. Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms.
Only this proof I'll of thy valour make
In single combat thou shalt buckle with me;
And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;
Otherwise I renounce all confidence.
PUCELLE. I am prepar'd; here is my keen-edg'd sword,
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side,
The which at Touraine, in Saint Katherine's churchyard,
Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.
CHARLES. Then come, o' God's name; I fear no woman.
PUCELLE. And while I live I'll ne'er fly from a man.
[Here they fight and JOAN LA PUCELLE overcomes]
CHARLES. Stay, stay thy hands; thou art an Amazon,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah.
PUCELLE. Christ's Mother helps me, else I were too weak.
CHARLES. Whoe'er helps thee, 'tis thou that must help me.
Impatiently I burn with thy desire;
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd.
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant and not sovereign be.
'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.
PUCELLE. I must not yield to any rites of love,
For my profession's sacred from above.
When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompense.
CHARLES. Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.
REIGNIER. My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.
ALENCON. Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock;
Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech.
REIGNIER. Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?
ALENCON. He may mean more than we poor men do know;
These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.
REIGNIER. My lord, where are you? What devise you on?
Shall we give o'er Orleans, or no?
PUCELLE. Why, no, I say; distrustful recreants!
Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard.
CHARLES. What she says I'll confirm; we'll fight it out.
PUCELLE. Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I'll raise.
Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.
Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.
With Henry's death the English circle ends;
Dispersed are the glories it included.
Now am I like that proud insulting ship
Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once.
CHARLES. Was Mahomet inspired with a dove?
Thou with an eagle art inspired then.
Helen, the mother of great Constantine,
Nor yet Saint Philip's daughters were like thee.
Bright star of Venus, fall'n down on the earth,
How may I reverently worship thee enough?
ALENCON. Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.
REIGNIER. Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours;
Drive them from Orleans, and be immortaliz'd.
CHARLES. Presently we'll try. Come, let's away about it.
No prophet will I trust if she prove false. Exeunt
SCENE 3.
London. Before the Tower gates
Enter the DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, with his serving-men
in blue coats
GLOUCESTER. I am come to survey the Tower this day;
Since Henry's death, I fear, there is conveyance.
Where be these warders that they wait not here?
Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls.
FIRST WARDER. [Within] Who's there that knocks so
imperiously?
FIRST SERVING-MAN. It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.
SECOND WARDER. [Within] Whoe'er he be, you may not be
let in.
FIRST SERVING-MAN. Villains, answer you so the Lord
Protector?
FIRST WARDER. [Within] The Lord protect him! so we
answer him.
We do no otherwise than we are will'd.
GLOUCESTER. Who willed you, or whose will stands but
mine?
There's none Protector of the realm but I.
Break up the gates, I'll be your warrantize.
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?
[GLOUCESTER'S men rush at the Tower gates, and
WOODVILLE the Lieutenant speaks within]
WOODVILLE. [Within] What noise is this? What traitors
have we here?
GLOUCESTER. Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear?
Open the gates; here's Gloucester that would enter.
WOODVILLE. [Within] Have patience, noble Duke, I may
not open;
The Cardinal of Winchester forbids.
From him I have express commandment
That thou nor none of thine shall be let in.
GLOUCESTER. Faint-hearted Woodville, prizest him fore me?
Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate
Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne'er could brook!
Thou art no friend to God or to the King.
Open the gates, or I'll shut thee out shortly.
SERVING-MEN. Open the gates unto the Lord Protector,
Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.
Enter to the PROTECTOR at the Tower gates WINCHESTER
and his men in tawny coats
WINCHESTER. How now, ambitious Humphry! What means
this?
GLOUCESTER. Peel'd priest, dost thou command me to be
shut out?
WINCHESTER. I do, thou most usurping proditor,
And not Protector of the King or realm.
GLOUCESTER. Stand back, thou manifest conspirator,
Thou that contrived'st to murder our dead lord;
Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin.
I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat,
If thou proceed in this thy insolence.
WINCHESTER. Nay, stand thou back; I will not budge a foot.
This be Damascus; be thou cursed Cain,
To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.
GLOUCESTER. I will not slay thee, but I'll drive thee back.
Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth
I'll use to carry thee out of this place.
WINCHESTER. Do what thou dar'st; I beard thee to thy face.
GLOUCESTER. What! am I dar'd and bearded to my face?
Draw, men, for all this privileged place
Blue-coats to tawny-coats. Priest, beware your beard;
I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly;
Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat;
In spite of Pope or dignities of church,
Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.
WINCHESTER. Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the
Pope.
GLOUCESTER. Winchester goose! I cry 'A rope, a rope!'
Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay?
Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.
Out, tawny-coats! Out, scarlet hypocrite!
Here GLOUCESTER'S men beat out the CARDINAL'S
men; and enter in the hurly burly the MAYOR OF
LONDON and his OFFICERS
MAYOR. Fie, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates,
Thus contumeliously should break the peace!
GLOUCESTER. Peace, Mayor! thou know'st little of my wrongs:
Here's Beaufort, that regards nor God nor King,
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use.
WINCHESTER. Here's Gloucester, a foe to citizens;
One that still motions war and never peace,
O'ercharging your free purses with large fines;
That seeks to overthrow religion,
Because he is Protector of the realm,
And would have armour here out of the Tower,
To crown himself King and suppress the Prince.
GLOUCESTER. I Will not answer thee with words, but blows.
[Here they skirmish again]
MAYOR. Nought rests for me in this tumultuous strife
But to make open proclamation.
Come, officer, as loud as e'er thou canst,
Cry.
OFFICER. [Cries] All manner of men assembled here in arms
this day against God's peace and the King's, we charge
and command you, in his Highness' name, to repair to
your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, handle, or
use, any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon
pain of death.
GLOUCESTER. Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law;
But we shall meet and break our minds at large.
WINCHESTER. Gloucester, we'll meet to thy cost, be sure;
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work.
MAYOR. I'll call for clubs if you will not away.
This Cardinal's more haughty than the devil.
GLOUCESTER. Mayor, farewell; thou dost but what thou
mayst.
WINCHESTER. Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head,
For I intend to have it ere long.
Exeunt, severally, GLOUCESTER and WINCHESTER
with their servants
MAYOR. See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart.
Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear!
I myself fight not once in forty year. Exeunt
SCENE 4.
France. Before Orleans
Enter, on the walls, the MASTER-GUNNER
OF ORLEANS and his BOY
MASTER-GUNNER. Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is
besieg'd,
And how the English have the suburbs won.
BOY. Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,
Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim.
MASTER-GUNNER. But now thou shalt not. Be thou rul'd
by me.
Chief master-gunner am I of this town;
Something I must do to procure me grace.
The Prince's espials have informed me
How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,
Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars
In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,
And thence discover how with most advantage
They may vex us with shot or with assault.
To intercept this inconvenience,
A piece of ordnance 'gainst it I have plac'd;
And even these three days have I watch'd
If I could see them. Now do thou watch,
For I can stay no longer.
If thou spy'st any, run and bring me word;
And thou shalt find me at the Governor's. Exit
BOY. Father, I warrant you; take you no care;
I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them. Exit
Enter SALISBURY and TALBOT on the turrets, with
SIR WILLIAM GLANSDALE, SIR THOMAS GARGRAVE,
and others
SALISBURY. Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
How wert thou handled being prisoner?
Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd?
Discourse, I prithee, on this turret's top.
TALBOT. The Earl of Bedford had a prisoner
Call'd the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;
For him was I exchang'd and ransomed.
But with a baser man of arms by far
Once, in contempt, they would have barter'd me;
Which I disdaining scorn'd, and craved death
Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd.
In fine, redeem'd I was as I desir'd.
But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart
Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my power.
SALISBURY. Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd.
TALBOT. With scoffs, and scorns, and contumelious taunts,
In open market-place produc'd they me
To be a public spectacle to all;
Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
The scarecrow that affrights our children so.
Then broke I from the officers that led me,
And with my nails digg'd stones out of the ground
To hurl at the beholders of my shame;
My grisly countenance made others fly;
None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
In iron walls they deem'd me not secure;
So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread
That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant;
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had
That walk'd about me every minute-while;
And if I did but stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
Enter the BOY with a linstock
SALISBURY. I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd;
But we will be reveng'd sufficiently.
Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
Here, through this grate, I count each one
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify.
Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee.
Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale,
Let me have your express opinions
Where is best place to make our batt'ry next.
GARGRAVE. I think at the North Gate; for there stand lords.
GLANSDALE. And I here, at the bulwark of the bridge.
TALBOT. For aught I see, this city must be famish'd,
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.
[Here they shoot and SALISBURY and GARGRAVE
fall down]
SALISBURY. O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!
GARGRAVE. O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!
TALBOT. What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us?
Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak.
How far'st thou, mirror of all martial men?
One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off!
Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand
That hath contriv'd this woeful tragedy!
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame;
Henry the Fifth he first train'd to the wars;
Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up,
His sword did ne'er leave striking in the field.
Yet liv'st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail,
One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace;
The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive
If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!
Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.
Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?
Speak unto Talbot; nay, look up to him.
Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort,
Thou shalt not die whiles
He beckons with his hand and smiles on me,
As who should say 'When I am dead and gone,
Remember to avenge me on the French.'
Plantagenet, I will; and like thee, Nero,
Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn.
Wretched shall France be only in my name.
[Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens]
What stir is this? What tumult's in the heavens?
Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. My lord, my lord, the French have gather'd
head
The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd,
A holy prophetess new risen up,
Is come with a great power to raise the siege.
[Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans]
TALBOT. Hear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan.
It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd.
Frenchmen, I'll be a Salisbury to you.
Pucelle or puzzel, dolphin or dogfish,
Your hearts I'll stamp out with my horse's heels
And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.
Convey me Salisbury into his tent,
And then we'll try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.
Alarum. Exeunt
SCENE 5.
Before Orleans
Here an alarum again, and TALBOT pursueth the
DAUPHIN and driveth him. Then enter JOAN LA PUCELLE
driving Englishmen before her. Then enter TALBOT
TALBOT. Where is my strength, my valour, and my force?
Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them;
A woman clad in armour chaseth them.
Enter LA PUCELLE
Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee.
Devil or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee;
Blood will I draw on thee-thou art a witch
And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv'st.
PUCELLE. Come, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.
[Here they fight]
TALBOT. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
My breast I'll burst with straining of my courage.
And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,
But I will chastise this high minded strumpet.
[They fight again]
PUCELLE. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come.
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
[A short alarum; then enter the town with soldiers]
O'ertake me if thou canst; I scorn thy strength.
Go, go, cheer up thy hungry starved men;
Help Salisbury to make his testament.
This day is ours, as many more shall be. Exit
TALBOT. My thoughts are whirled like a potter's wheel;
I know not where I am nor what I do.
A witch by fear, not force, like Hannibal,
Drives back our troops and conquers as she lists.
So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench
Are from their hives and houses driven away.
They call'd us, for our fierceness, English dogs;
Now like to whelps we crying run away.
[A short alarum]
Hark, countrymen! Either renew the fight
Or tear the lions out of England's coat;
Renounce your soil, give sheep in lions' stead:
Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf,
Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
As you fly from your oft subdued slaves.
[Alarum. Here another skirmish]
It will not be-retire into your trenches.
You all consented unto Salisbury's death,
For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
Pucelle is ent'red into Orleans
In spite of us or aught that we could do.
O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
The shame hereof will make me hide my head.
Exit TALBOT. Alarum; retreat
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 sovereignvours
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-bans into bullets turn'd,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
O that I could but can 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
<>
1591
THE SECOND PART OF KING HENRY THE SIXTH
by William Shakespeare
Dramatis Personae
KING HENRY THE SIXTH
HUMPHREY, DUKE OF GLOUCESTER, his uncle
CARDINAL BEAUFORT, BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, great-uncle to the King
RICHARD PLANTAGENET, DUKE OF YORK
EDWARD and RICHARD, his sons
DUKE OF SOMERSET
DUKE OF SUFFOLK
DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM
LORD CLIFFORD
YOUNG CLIFFORD, his son
EARL OF SALISBURY
EARL OF WARWICK
LORD SCALES
LORD SAY
SIR HUMPHREY STAFFORD
WILLIAM STAFFORD, his brother
SIR JOHN STANLEY
VAUX
MATTHEW GOFFE
A LIEUTENANT, a SHIPMASTER, a MASTER'S MATE, and WALTER WHITMORE
TWO GENTLEMEN, prisoners with Suffolk
JOHN HUME and JOHN SOUTHWELL, two priests
ROGER BOLINGBROKE, a conjurer
A SPIRIT raised by him
THOMAS HORNER, an armourer
PETER, his man
CLERK OF CHATHAM
MAYOR OF SAINT ALBANS
SAUNDER SIMPCOX, an impostor
ALEXANDER IDEN, a Kentish gentleman
JACK CADE, a rebel
GEORGE BEVIS, JOHN HOLLAND, DICK THE BUTCHER, SMITH THE WEAVER,
MICHAEL, &c., followers of Cade
TWO MURDERERS
MARGARET, Queen to King Henry
ELEANOR, Duchess of Gloucester
MARGERY JOURDAIN, a witch
WIFE to SIMPCOX
Lords, Ladies, and Attendants; Petitioners, Aldermen, a Herald,
a Beadle, a Sheriff, Officers, Citizens, Prentices, Falconers,
Guards, Soldiers, Messengers, &c.
<>
SCENE:
England
ACT I. SCENE I.
London. The palace
Flourish of trumpets; then hautboys. Enter the KING, DUKE HUMPHREY
OF GLOUCESTER, SALISBURY, WARWICK, and CARDINAL BEAUFORT, on the one side;
the QUEEN, SUFFOLK, YORK, SOMERSET, and BUCKINGHAM, on the other
SUFFOLK. As by your high imperial Majesty
I had in charge at my depart for France,
As procurator to your Excellence,
To marry Princess Margaret for your Grace;
So, in the famous ancient city Tours,
In presence of the Kings of France and Sicil,
The Dukes of Orleans, Calaber, Bretagne, and Alencon,
Seven earls, twelve barons, and twenty reverend bishops,
I have perform'd my task, and was espous'd;
And humbly now upon my bended knee,
In sight of England and her lordly peers,
Deliver up my title in the Queen
To your most gracious hands, that are the substance
Of that great shadow I did represent:
The happiest gift that ever marquis gave,
The fairest queen that ever king receiv'd.
KING HENRY. Suffolk, arise. Welcome, Queen Margaret:
I can express no kinder sign of love
Than this kind kiss. O Lord, that lends me life,
Lend me a heart replete with thankfulness!
For thou hast given me in this beauteous face
A world of earthly blessings to my soul,
If sympathy of love unite our thoughts.
QUEEN. Great King of England, and my gracious lord,
The mutual conference that my mind hath had,
By day, by night, waking and in my dreams,
In courtly company or at my beads,
With you, mine alder-liefest sovereign,
Makes me the bolder to salute my king
With ruder terms, such as my wit affords
And over-joy of heart doth minister.
KING HENRY. Her sight did ravish, but her grace in speech,
Her words y-clad with wisdom's majesty,
Makes me from wond'ring fall to weeping joys,
Such is the fulness of my heart's content.
Lords, with one cheerful voice welcome my love.
ALL. [Kneeling] Long live Queen Margaret, England's happiness!
QUEEN. We thank you all. [Flourish]
SUFFOLK. My Lord Protector, so it please your Grace,
Here are the articles of contracted peace
Between our sovereign and the French King Charles,
For eighteen months concluded by consent.
GLOUCESTER. [Reads] 'Imprimis: It is agreed between the French King
Charles and William de la Pole, Marquess of Suffolk, ambassador
for Henry King of England, that the said Henry shall espouse the
Lady Margaret, daughter unto Reignier King of Naples, Sicilia,
and Jerusalem, and crown her Queen of England ere the thirtieth
of May next ensuing.
Item: That the duchy of Anjou and the county of Maine shall be
released and delivered to the King her father'-
[Lets the paper fall]
KING HENRY. Uncle, how now!
GLOUCESTER. Pardon me, gracious lord;
Some sudden qualm hath struck me at the heart,
And dimm'd mine eyes, that I can read no further.
KING HENRY. Uncle of Winchester, I pray read on.
CARDINAL. [Reads] 'Item: It is further agreed between them that the
duchies of Anjou and Maine shall be released and delivered over
to the King her father, and she sent over of the King of
England's own proper cost and charges, without having any dowry.'
KING HENRY. They please us well. Lord Marquess, kneel down.
We here create thee the first Duke of Suffolk,
And girt thee with the sword. Cousin of York,
We here discharge your Grace from being Regent
I' th' parts of France, till term of eighteen months
Be full expir'd. Thanks, uncle Winchester,
Gloucester, York, Buckingham, Somerset,
Salisbury, and Warwick;
We thank you all for this great favour done
In entertainment to my princely queen.
Come, let us in, and with all speed provide
To see her coronation be perform'd.
Exeunt KING, QUEEN, and SUFFOLK
GLOUCESTER. Brave peers of England, pillars of the state,
To you Duke Humphrey must unload his grief
Your grief, the common grief of all the land.
What! did my brother Henry spend his youth,
His valour, coin, and people, in the wars?
Did he so often lodge in open field,
In winter's cold and summer's parching heat,
To conquer France, his true inheritance?
And did my brother Bedford toil his wits
To keep by policy what Henry got?
Have you yourselves, Somerset, Buckingham,
Brave York, Salisbury, and victorious Warwick,
Receiv'd deep scars in France and Normandy?
Or hath mine uncle Beaufort and myself,
With all the learned Council of the realm,
Studied so long, sat in the Council House
Early and late, debating to and fro
How France and Frenchmen might be kept in awe?
And had his Highness in his infancy
Crowned in Paris, in despite of foes?
And shall these labours and these honours die?
Shall Henry's conquest, Bedford's vigilance,
Your deeds of war, and all our counsel die?
O peers of England, shameful is this league!
Fatal this marriage, cancelling your fame,
Blotting your names from books of memory,
Razing the characters of your renown,
Defacing monuments of conquer'd France,
Undoing all, as all had never been!
CARDINAL. Nephew, what means this passionate discourse,
This peroration with such circumstance?
For France, 'tis ours; and we will keep it still.
GLOUCESTER. Ay, uncle, we will keep it if we can;
But now it is impossible we should.
Suffolk, the new-made duke that rules the roast,
Hath given the duchy of Anjou and Maine
Unto the poor King Reignier, whose large style
Agrees not with the leanness of his purse.
SALISBURY. Now, by the death of Him that died for all,
These counties were the keys of Normandy!
But wherefore weeps Warwick, my valiant son?
WARWICK. For grief that they are past recovery;
For were there hope to conquer them again
My sword should shed hot blood, mine eyes no tears.
Anjou and Maine! myself did win them both;
Those provinces these arms of mine did conquer;
And are the cities that I got with wounds
Deliver'd up again with peaceful words?
Mort Dieu!
YORK. For Suffolk's duke, may he be suffocate,
That dims the honour of this warlike isle!
France should have torn and rent my very heart
Before I would have yielded to this league.
I never read but England's kings have had
Large sums of gold and dowries with their wives;
And our King Henry gives away his own
To match with her that brings no vantages.
GLOUCESTER. A proper jest, and never heard before,
That Suffolk should demand a whole fifteenth
For costs and charges in transporting her!
She should have stay'd in France, and starv'd in France,
Before-
CARDINAL. My Lord of Gloucester, now ye grow too hot:
It was the pleasure of my lord the King.
GLOUCESTER. My Lord of Winchester, I know your mind;
'Tis not my speeches that you do mislike,
But 'tis my presence that doth trouble ye.
Rancour will out: proud prelate, in thy face
I see thy fury; if I longer stay
We shall begin our ancient bickerings.
Lordings, farewell; and say, when I am gone,
I prophesied France will be lost ere long. Exit
CARDINAL. So, there goes our Protector in a rage.
'Tis known to you he is mine enemy;
Nay, more, an enemy unto you all,
And no great friend, I fear me, to the King.
Consider, lords, he is the next of blood
And heir apparent to the English crown.
Had Henry got an empire by his marriage
And all the wealthy kingdoms of the west,
There's reason he should be displeas'd at it.
Look to it, lords; let not his smoothing words
Bewitch your hearts; be wise and circumspect.
What though the common people favour him,
Calling him 'Humphrey, the good Duke of Gloucester,'
Clapping their hands, and crying with loud voice
'Jesu maintain your royal excellence!'
With 'God preserve the good Duke Humphrey!'
I fear me, lords, for all this flattering gloss,
He will be found a dangerous Protector.
BUCKINGHAM. Why should he then protect our sovereign,
He being of age to govern of himself?
Cousin of Somerset, join you with me,
And all together, with the Duke of Suffolk,
We'll quickly hoise Duke Humphrey from his seat.
CARDINAL. This weighty business will not brook delay;
I'll to the Duke of Suffolk presently. Exit
SOMERSET. Cousin of Buckingham, though Humphrey's pride
And greatness of his place be grief to us,
Yet let us watch the haughty cardinal;
His insolence is more intolerable
Than all the princes in the land beside;
If Gloucester be displac'd, he'll be Protector.
BUCKINGHAM. Or thou or I, Somerset, will be Protector,
Despite Duke Humphrey or the Cardinal.
Exeunt BUCKINGHAM and SOMERSET
SALISBURY. Pride went before, ambition follows him.
While these do labour for their own preferment,
Behoves it us to labour for the realm.
I never saw but Humphrey Duke of Gloucester
Did bear him like a noble gentleman.
Oft have I seen the haughty Cardinal-
More like a soldier than a man o' th' church,
As stout and proud as he were lord of all-
Swear like a ruffian and demean himself
Unlike the ruler of a commonweal.
Warwick my son, the comfort of my age,
Thy deeds, thy plainness, and thy housekeeping,
Hath won the greatest favour of the commons,
Excepting none but good Duke Humphrey.
And, brother York, thy acts in Ireland,
In bringing them to civil discipline,
Thy late exploits done in the heart of France
When thou wert Regent for our sovereign,
Have made thee fear'd and honour'd of the people:
Join we together for the public good,
In what we can, to bridle and suppress
The pride of Suffolk and the Cardinal,
With Somerset's and Buckingham's ambition;
And, as we may, cherish Duke Humphrey's deeds
While they do tend the profit of the land.
WARWICK. So God help Warwick, as he loves the land
And common profit of his country!
YORK. And so says York- [Aside] for he hath greatest cause.
SALISBURY. Then let's make haste away and look unto the main.
WARWICK. Unto the main! O father, Maine is lost-
That Maine which by main force Warwick did win,
And would have kept so long as breath did last.
Main chance, father, you meant; but I meant Maine,
Which I will win from France, or else be slain.
Exeunt WARWICK and SALISBURY
YORK. Anjou and Maine are given to the French;
Paris is lost; the state of Normandy
Stands on a tickle point now they are gone.
Suffolk concluded on the articles;
The peers agreed; and Henry was well pleas'd
To changes two dukedoms for a duke's fair daughter.
I cannot blame them all: what is't to them?
'Tis thine they give away, and not their own.
Pirates may make cheap pennyworths of their pillage,
And purchase friends, and give to courtezans,
Still revelling like lords till all be gone;
While as the silly owner of the goods
Weeps over them and wrings his hapless hands
And shakes his head and trembling stands aloof,
While all is shar'd and all is borne away,
Ready to starve and dare not touch his own.
So York must sit and fret and bite his tongue,
While his own lands are bargain'd for and sold.
Methinks the realms of England, France, and Ireland,
Bear that proportion to my flesh and blood
As did the fatal brand Althaea burnt
Unto the prince's heart of Calydon.
Anjou and Maine both given unto the French!
Cold news for me, for I had hope of France,
Even as I have of fertile England's soil.
A day will come when York shall claim his own;
And therefore I will take the Nevils' parts,
And make a show of love to proud Duke Humphrey,
And when I spy advantage, claim the crown,
For that's the golden mark I seek to hit.
Nor shall proud Lancaster usurp my right,
Nor hold the sceptre in his childish fist,
Nor wear the diadem upon his head,
Whose church-like humours fits not for a crown.
Then, York, be still awhile, till time do serve;
Watch thou and wake, when others be asleep,
To pry into the secrets of the state;
Till Henry, surfeiting in joys of love
With his new bride and England's dear-bought queen,
And Humphrey with the peers be fall'n at jars;
Then will I raise aloft the milk-white rose,
With whose sweet smell the air shall be perfum'd,
And in my standard bear the arms of York,
To grapple with the house of Lancaster;
And force perforce I'll make him yield the crown,
Whose bookish rule hath pull'd fair England down. Exit
SCENE II.
The DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S house
Enter DUKE and his wife ELEANOR
DUCHESS. Why droops my lord, like over-ripen'd corn
Hanging the head at Ceres' plenteous load?
Why doth the great Duke Humphrey knit his brows,
As frowning at the favours of the world?
Why are thine eyes fix'd to the sullen earth,
Gazing on that which seems to dim thy sight?
What see'st thou there? King Henry's diadem,
Enchas'd with all the honours of the world?
If so, gaze on, and grovel on thy face
Until thy head be circled with the same.
Put forth thy hand, reach at the glorious gold.
What, is't too short? I'll lengthen it with mine;
And having both together heav'd it up,
We'll both together lift our heads to heaven,
And never more abase our sight so low
As to vouchsafe one glance unto the ground.
GLOUCESTER. O Nell, sweet Nell, if thou dost love thy lord,
Banish the canker of ambitious thoughts!
And may that thought, when I imagine ill
Against my king and nephew, virtuous Henry,
Be my last breathing in this mortal world!
My troublous dreams this night doth make me sad.
DUCHESS. What dream'd my lord? Tell me, and I'll requite it
With sweet rehearsal of my morning's dream.
GLOUCESTER. Methought this staff, mine office-badge in court,
Was broke in twain; by whom I have forgot,
But, as I think, it was by th' Cardinal;
And on the pieces of the broken wand
Were plac'd the heads of Edmund Duke of Somerset
And William de la Pole, first Duke of Suffolk.
This was my dream; what it doth bode God knows.
DUCHESS. Tut, this was nothing but an argument
That he that breaks a stick of Gloucester's grove
Shall lose his head for his presumption.
But list to me, my Humphrey, my sweet Duke:
Methought I sat in seat of majesty
In the cathedral church of Westminster,
And in that chair where kings and queens were crown'd;
Where Henry and Dame Margaret kneel'd to me,
And on my head did set the diadem.
GLOUCESTER. Nay, Eleanor, then must I chide outright.
Presumptuous dame, ill-nurtur'd Eleanor!
Art thou not second woman in the realm,
And the Protector's wife, belov'd of him?
Hast thou not worldly pleasure at command
Above the reach or compass of thy thought?
And wilt thou still be hammering treachery
To tumble down thy husband and thyself
From top of honour to disgrace's feet?
Away from me, and let me hear no more!
DUCHESS. What, what, my lord! Are you so choleric
With Eleanor for telling but her dream?
Next time I'll keep my dreams unto myself
And not be check'd.
GLOUCESTER. Nay, be not angry; I am pleas'd again.
Enter a MESSENGER
MESSENGER. My Lord Protector, 'tis his Highness' pleasure
You do prepare to ride unto Saint Albans,
Where as the King and Queen do mean to hawk.
GLOUCESTER. I go. Come, Nell, thou wilt ride with us?
DUCHESS. Yes, my good lord, I'll follow presently.
Exeunt GLOUCESTER and MESSENGER
Follow I must; I cannot go before,
While Gloucester bears this base and humble mind.
Were I a man, a duke, and next of blood,
I would remove these tedious stumbling-blocks
And smooth my way upon their headless necks;
And, being a woman, I will not be slack
To play my part in Fortune's pageant.
Where are you there, Sir John? Nay, fear not, man,
We are alone; here's none but thee and I.
Enter HUME
HUME. Jesus preserve your royal Majesty!
DUCHESS. What say'st thou? Majesty! I am but Grace.
HUME. But, by the grace of God and Hume's advice,
Your Grace's title shall be multiplied.
DUCHESS. What say'st thou, man? Hast thou as yet conferr'd
With Margery Jourdain, the cunning witch of Eie,
With Roger Bolingbroke, the conjurer?
And will they undertake to do me good?
HUME. This they have promised, to show your Highness
A spirit rais'd from depth of underground
That shall make answer to such questions
As by your Grace shall be propounded him
DUCHESS. It is enough; I'll think upon the questions;
When from Saint Albans we do make return
We'll see these things effected to the full.
Here, Hume, take this reward; make merry, man,
With thy confederates in this weighty cause. Exit
HUME. Hume must make merry with the Duchess' gold;
Marry, and shall. But, how now, Sir John Hume!
Seal up your lips and give no words but mum:
The business asketh silent secrecy.
Dame Eleanor gives gold to bring the witch:
Gold cannot come amiss were she a devil.
Yet have I gold flies from another coast-
I dare not say from the rich Cardinal,
And from the great and new-made Duke of Suffolk;
Yet I do find it so; for, to be plain,
They, knowing Dame Eleanor's aspiring humour,
Have hired me to undermine the Duchess,
And buzz these conjurations in her brain.
They say 'A crafty knave does need no broker';
Yet am I Suffolk and the Cardinal's broker.
Hume, if you take not heed, you shall go near
To call them both a pair of crafty knaves.
Well, so its stands; and thus, I fear, at last
Hume's knavery will be the Duchess' wreck,
And her attainture will be Humphrey's fall
Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all. Exit
SCENE III.
London. The palace
Enter three or four PETITIONERS, PETER, the Armourer's man, being one
FIRST PETITIONER. My masters, let's stand close; my Lord Protector
will come this way by and by, and then we may deliver our
supplications in the quill.
SECOND PETITIONER. Marry, the Lord protect him, for he's a good
man, Jesu bless him!
Enter SUFFOLK and QUEEN
FIRST PETITIONER. Here 'a comes, methinks, and the Queen with him.
I'll be the first, sure.
SECOND PETITIONER. Come back, fool; this is the Duke of Suffolk and
not my Lord Protector.
SUFFOLK. How now, fellow! Wouldst anything with me?
FIRST PETITIONER. I pray, my lord, pardon me; I took ye for my Lord
Protector.
QUEEN. [Reads] 'To my Lord Protector!' Are your supplications to
his lordship? Let me see them. What is thine?
FIRST PETITIONER. Mine is, an't please your Grace, against John
Goodman, my Lord Cardinal's man, for keeping my house and lands,
and wife and all, from me.
SUFFOLK. Thy wife too! That's some wrong indeed. What's yours?
What's here! [Reads] 'Against the Duke of Suffolk, for enclosing
the commons of Melford.' How now, sir knave!
SECOND PETITIONER. Alas, sir, I am but a poor petitioner of our
whole township.
PETER. [Presenting his petition] Against my master, Thomas Horner,
for saying that the Duke of York was rightful heir to the crown.
QUEEN. What say'st thou? Did the Duke of York say he was rightful
heir to the crown?
PETER. That my master was? No, forsooth. My master said that he
was, and that the King was an usurper.
SUFFOLK. Who is there? [Enter servant] Take this fellow in, and
send for his master with a pursuivant presently. We'll hear more
of your matter before the King.
Exit servant with PETER
QUEEN. And as for you, that love to be protected
Under the wings of our Protector's grace,
Begin your suits anew, and sue to him.
[Tears the supplications]
Away, base cullions! Suffolk, let them go.
ALL. Come, let's be gone. Exeunt
QUEEN. My Lord of Suffolk, say, is this the guise,
Is this the fashions in the court of England?
Is this the government of Britain's isle,
And this the royalty of Albion's king?
What, shall King Henry be a pupil still,
Under the surly Gloucester's governance?
Am I a queen in title and in style,
And must be made a subject to a duke?
I tell thee, Pole, when in the city Tours
Thou ran'st a tilt in honour of my love
And stol'st away the ladies' hearts of France,
I thought King Henry had resembled thee
In courage, courtship, and proportion;
But all his mind is bent to holiness,
To number Ave-Maries on his beads;
His champions are the prophets and apostles;
His weapons, holy saws of sacred writ;
His study is his tilt-yard, and his loves
Are brazen images of canonized saints.
I would the college of the Cardinals
Would choose him Pope, and carry him to Rome,
And set the triple crown upon his head;
That were a state fit for his holiness.
SUFFOLK. Madam, be patient. As I was cause
Your Highness came to England, so will I
In England work your Grace's full content.
QUEEN. Beside the haughty Protector, have we Beaufort
The imperious churchman; Somerset, Buckingham,
And grumbling York; and not the least of these
But can do more in England than the King.
SUFFOLK. And he of these that can do most of all
Cannot do more in England than the Nevils;
Salisbury and Warwick are no simple peers.
QUEEN. Not all these lords do vex me half so much
As that proud dame, the Lord Protector's wife.
She sweeps it through the court with troops of ladies,
More like an empress than Duke Humphrey's wife.
Strangers in court do take her for the Queen.
She bears a duke's revenues on her back,
And in her heart she scorns our poverty;
Shall I not live to be aveng'd on her?
Contemptuous base-born callet as she is,
She vaunted 'mongst her minions t' other day
The very train of her worst wearing gown
Was better worth than all my father's lands,
Till Suffolk gave two dukedoms for his daughter.
SUFFOLK. Madam, myself have lim'd a bush for her,
And plac'd a quire of such enticing birds
That she will light to listen to the lays,
And never mount to trouble you again.
So, let her rest. And, madam, list to me,
For I am bold to counsel you in this:
Although we fancy not the Cardinal,
Yet must we join with him and with the lords,
Till we have brought Duke Humphrey in disgrace.
As for the Duke of York, this late complaint
Will make but little for his benefit.
So one by one we'll weed them all at last,
And you yourself shall steer the happy helm.
Sound a sennet. Enter the KING, DUKE HUMPHREY,
CARDINAL BEAUFORT, BUCKINGHAM, YORK, SOMERSET, SALISBURY,
WARWICK, and the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER
KING HENRY. For my part, noble lords, I care not which:
Or Somerset or York, all's one to me.
YORK. If York have ill demean'd himself in France,
Then let him be denay'd the regentship.
SOMERSET. If Somerset be unworthy of the place,
Let York be Regent; I will yield to him.
WARWICK. Whether your Grace be worthy, yea or no,
Dispute not that; York is the worthier.
CARDINAL. Ambitious Warwick, let thy betters speak.
WARWICK. The Cardinal's not my better in the field.
BUCKINGHAM. All in this presence are thy betters, Warwick.
WARWICK. Warwick may live to be the best of all.
SALISBURY. Peace, son! And show some reason, Buckingham,
Why Somerset should be preferr'd in this.
QUEEN. Because the King, forsooth, will have it so.
GLOUCESTER. Madam, the King is old enough himself
To give his censure. These are no women's matters.
QUEEN. If he be old enough, what needs your Grace
To be Protector of his Excellence?
GLOUCESTER. Madam, I am Protector of the realm;
And at his pleasure will resign my place.
SUFFOLK. Resign it then, and leave thine insolence.
Since thou wert king- as who is king but thou?-
The commonwealth hath daily run to wrack,
The Dauphin hath prevail'd beyond the seas,
And all the peers and nobles of the realm
Have been as bondmen to thy sovereignty.
CARDINAL. The commons hast thou rack'd; the clergy's bags
Are lank and lean with thy extortions.
SOMERSET. Thy sumptuous buildings and thy wife's attire
Have cost a mass of public treasury.
BUCKINGHAM. Thy cruelty in execution
Upon offenders hath exceeded law,
And left thee to the mercy of the law.
QUEEN. Thy sale of offices and towns in France,
If they were known, as the suspect is great,
Would make thee quickly hop without thy head.
Exit GLOUCESTER. The QUEEN drops QUEEN her fan
Give me my fan. What, minion, can ye not?
[She gives the DUCHESS a box on the ear]
I cry your mercy, madam; was it you?
DUCHESS. Was't I? Yea, I it was, proud Frenchwoman.
Could I come near your beauty with my nails,
I could set my ten commandments in your face.
KING HENRY. Sweet aunt, be quiet; 'twas against her will.
DUCHESS. Against her will, good King? Look to 't in time;
She'll hamper thee and dandle thee like a baby.
Though in this place most master wear no breeches,
She shall not strike Dame Eleanor unreveng'd. Exit
BUCKINGHAM. Lord Cardinal, I will follow Eleanor,
And listen after Humphrey, how he proceeds.
She's tickled now; her fume needs no spurs,
She'll gallop far enough to her destruction. Exit
Re-enter GLOUCESTER
GLOUCESTER. Now, lords, my choler being overblown
With walking once about the quadrangle,
I come to talk of commonwealth affairs.
As for your spiteful false objections,
Prove them, and I lie open to the law;
But God in mercy so deal with my soul
As I in duty love my king and country!
But to the matter that we have in hand:
I say, my sovereign, York is meetest man
To be your Regent in the realm of France.
SUFFOLK. Before we make election, give me leave
To show some reason, of no little force,
That York is most unmeet of any man.
YORK. I'll tell thee, Suffolk, why I am unmeet:
First, for I cannot flatter thee in pride;
Next, if I be appointed for the place,
My Lord of Somerset will keep me here
Without discharge, money, or furniture,
Till France be won into the Dauphin's hands.
Last time I danc'd attendance on his will
Till Paris was besieg'd, famish'd, and lost.
WARWICK. That can I witness; and a fouler fact
Did never traitor in the land commit.
SUFFOLK. Peace, headstrong Warwick!
WARWICK. Image of pride, why should I hold my peace?
Enter HORNER, the Armourer, and his man PETER, guarded
SUFFOLK. Because here is a man accus'd of treason:
Pray God the Duke of York excuse himself!
YORK. Doth any one accuse York for a traitor?
KING HENRY. What mean'st thou, Suffolk? Tell me, what are these?
SUFFOLK. Please it your Majesty, this is the man
That doth accuse his master of high treason;
His words were these: that Richard Duke of York
Was rightful heir unto the English crown,
And that your Majesty was an usurper.
KING HENRY. Say, man, were these thy words?
HORNER. An't shall please your Majesty, I never said nor thought
any such matter. God is my witness, I am falsely accus'd by the
villain.
PETER. [Holding up his hands] By these ten bones, my lords, he did
speak them to me in the garret one night, as we were scouring my
Lord of York's armour.
YORK. Base dunghill villain and mechanical,
I'll have thy head for this thy traitor's speech.
I do beseech your royal Majesty,
Let him have all the rigour of the law.
HORNER`. Alas, my lord, hang me if ever I spake the words. My
accuser is my prentice; and when I did correct him for his fault
the other day, he did vow upon his knees he would be even with
me. I have good witness of this; therefore I beseech your
Majesty, do not cast away an honest man for a villain's
accusation.
KING HENRY. Uncle, what shall we say to this in law?
GLOUCESTER. This doom, my lord, if I may judge:
Let Somerset be Regent o'er the French,
Because in York this breeds suspicion;
And let these have a day appointed them
For single combat in convenient place,
For he hath witness of his servant's malice.
This is the law, and this Duke Humphrey's doom.
SOMERSET. I humbly thank your royal Majesty.
HORNER. And I accept the combat willingly.
PETER. Alas, my lord, I cannot fight; for God's sake, pity my case!
The spite of man prevaileth against me. O Lord, have mercy upon
me, I shall never be able to fight a blow! O Lord, my heart!
GLOUCESTER. Sirrah, or you must fight or else be hang'd.
KING HENRY. Away with them to prison; and the day of combat shall
be the last of the next month.
Come, Somerset, we'll see thee sent away. Flourish. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
London. The DUKE OF GLOUCESTER'S garden
Enter MARGERY JOURDAIN, the witch; the two priests, HUME and SOUTHWELL;
and BOLINGBROKE
HUME. Come, my masters; the Duchess, I tell you, expects
performance of your promises.
BOLINGBROKE. Master Hume, we are therefore provided; will her
ladyship behold and hear our exorcisms?
HUME. Ay, what else? Fear you not her courage.
BOLINGBROKE. I have heard her reported to be a woman of an
invincible spirit; but it shall be convenient, Master Hume, that
you be by her aloft while we be busy below; and so I pray you go,
in God's name, and leave us. [Exit HUME] Mother Jourdain, be you
prostrate and grovel on the earth; John Southwell, read you; and
let us to our work.
Enter DUCHESS aloft, followed by HUME
DUCHESS. Well said, my masters; and welcome all. To this gear, the
sooner the better.
BOLINGBROKE. Patience, good lady; wizards know their times:
Deep night, dark night, the silent of the night,
The time of night when Troy was set on fire;
The time when screech-owls cry and ban-dogs howl,
And spirits walk and ghosts break up their graves-
That time best fits the work we have in hand.
Madam, sit you, and fear not: whom we raise
We will make fast within a hallow'd verge.
[Here they do the ceremonies belonging, and make the circle;
BOLINGBROKE or SOUTHWELL reads: 'Conjuro te,' &c.
It thunders and lightens terribly; then the SPIRIT riseth]
SPIRIT. Adsum.
MARGERY JOURDAIN. Asmath,
By the eternal God, whose name and power
Thou tremblest at, answer that I shall ask;
For till thou speak thou shalt not pass from hence.
SPIRIT. Ask what thou wilt; that I had said and done.
BOLINGBROKE. [Reads] 'First of the king: what shall of him become?'
SPIRIT. The Duke yet lives that Henry shall depose;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.
[As the SPIRIT speaks, SOUTHWELL writes the answer]
BOLINGBROKE. 'What fates await the Duke of Suffolk?'
SPIRIT. By water shall he die and take his end.
BOLINGBROKE. 'What shall befall the Duke of Somerset?'
SPIRIT. Let him shun castles:
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
Than where castles mounted stand.
Have done, for more I hardly can endure.
BOLINGBROKE. Descend to darkness and the burning lake;
False fiend, avoid! Thunder and lightning. Exit SPIRIT
Enter the DUKE OF YORK and the DUKE OF
BUCKINGHAM with guard, and break in
YORK. Lay hands upon these traitors and their trash.
Beldam, I think we watch'd you at an inch.
What, madam, are you there? The King and commonweal
Are deeply indebted for this piece of pains;
My Lord Protector will, I doubt it not,
See you well guerdon'd for these good deserts.
DUCHESS. Not half so bad as thine to England's king,
Injurious Duke, that threatest where's no cause.
BUCKINGHAM. True, madam, none at all. What can you this?
Away with them! let them be clapp'd up close,
And kept asunder. You, madam, shall with us.
Stafford, take her to thee.
We'll see your trinkets here all forthcoming.
All, away!
Exeunt, above, DUCHESS and HUME, guarded; below,
WITCH, SOUTHWELL and BOLINGBROKE, guarded
YORK. Lord Buckingham, methinks you watch'd her well.
A pretty plot, well chosen to build upon!
Now, pray, my lord, let's see the devil's writ.
What have we here? [Reads]
'The duke yet lives that Henry shall depose;
But him outlive, and die a violent death.'
Why, this is just
'Aio te, Aeacida, Romanos vincere posse.'
Well, to the rest:
'Tell me what fate awaits the Duke of Suffolk?'
'By water shall he die and take his end.'
'What shall betide the Duke of Somerset?'
'Let him shun castles;
Safer shall he be upon the sandy plains
Than where castles mounted stand.'
Come, come, my lords;
These oracles are hardly attain'd,
And hardly understood.
The King is now in progress towards Saint Albans,
With him the husband of this lovely lady;
Thither go these news as fast as horse can carry them-
A sorry breakfast for my Lord Protector.
BUCKINGHAM. Your Grace shall give me leave, my Lord of York,
To be the post, in hope of his reward.
YORK. At your pleasure, my good lord.
Who's within there, ho?
Enter a serving-man
Invite my Lords of Salisbury and Warwick
To sup with me to-morrow night. Away! Exeunt
<>
ACT II. SCENE I.
Saint Albans
Enter the KING, QUEEN, GLOUCESTER, CARDINAL, and SUFFOLK,
with Falconers halloing
QUEEN. Believe me, lords, for flying at the brook,
I saw not better sport these seven years' day;
Yet, by your leave, the wind was very high,
And ten to one old Joan had not gone out.
KING HENRY. But what a point, my lord, your falcon made,
And what a pitch she flew above the rest!
To see how God in all His creatures works!
Yea, man and birds are fain of climbing high.
SUFFOLK. No marvel, an it like your Majesty,
My Lord Protector's hawks do tow'r so well;
They know their master loves to be aloft,
And bears his thoughts above his falcon's pitch.
GLOUCESTER. My lord, 'tis but a base ignoble mind
That mounts no higher than a bird can soar.
CARDINAL. I thought as much; he would be above the clouds.
GLOUCESTER. Ay, my lord Cardinal, how think you by that?
Were it not good your Grace could fly to heaven?
KING HENRY. The treasury of everlasting joy!
CARDINAL. Thy heaven is on earth; thine eyes and thoughts
Beat on a crown, the treasure of thy heart;
Pernicious Protector, dangerous peer,
That smooth'st it so with King and commonweal.
GLOUCESTER. What, Cardinal, is your priesthood grown peremptory?
Tantaene animis coelestibus irae?
Churchmen so hot? Good uncle, hide such malice;
With such holiness can you do it?
SUFFOLK. No malice, sir; no more than well becomes
So good a quarrel and so bad a peer.
GLOUCESTER. As who, my lord?
SUFFOLK. Why, as you, my lord,
An't like your lordly Lord's Protectorship.
GLOUCESTER. Why, Suffolk, England knows thine insolence.
QUEEN. And thy ambition, Gloucester.
KING HENRY. I prithee, peace,
Good Queen, and whet not on these furious peers;
For blessed are the peacemakers on earth.
CARDINAL. Let me be blessed for the peace I make
Against this proud Protector with my sword!
GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CARDINAL] Faith, holy uncle, would 'twere
come to that!
CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Marry, when thou dar'st.
GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CARDINAL] Make up no factious numbers for the
matter;
In thine own person answer thy abuse.
CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Ay, where thou dar'st not peep; an
if thou dar'st,
This evening on the east side of the grove.
KING HENRY. How now, my lords!
CARDINAL. Believe me, cousin Gloucester,
Had not your man put up the fowl so suddenly,
We had had more sport. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Come with thy
two-hand sword.
GLOUCESTER. True, uncle.
CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Are ye advis'd? The east side of
the grove?
GLOUCESTER. [Aside to CARDINAL] Cardinal, I am with you.
KING HENRY. Why, how now, uncle Gloucester!
GLOUCESTER. Talking of hawking; nothing else, my lord.
[Aside to CARDINAL] Now, by God's Mother, priest,
I'll shave your crown for this,
Or all my fence shall fail.
CARDINAL. [Aside to GLOUCESTER] Medice, teipsum;
Protector, see to't well; protect yourself.
KING HENRY. The winds grow high; so do your stomachs, lords.
How irksome is this music to my heart!
When such strings jar, what hope of harmony?
I pray, my lords, let me compound this strife.
Enter a TOWNSMAN of Saint Albans, crying 'A miracle!'
GLOUCESTER. What means this noise?
Fellow, what miracle dost thou proclaim?
TOWNSMAN. A miracle! A miracle!
SUFFOLK. Come to the King, and tell him what miracle.
TOWNSMAN. Forsooth, a blind man at Saint Albans shrine
Within this half hour hath receiv'd his sight;
A man that ne'er saw in his life before.
KING HENRY. Now God be prais'd that to believing souls
Gives light in darkness, comfort in despair!
Enter the MAYOR OF SAINT ALBANS and his brethren,
bearing Simpcox between two in a chair;
his WIFE and a multitude following
CARDINAL. Here comes the townsmen on procession
To present your Highness with the man.
KING HENRY. Great is his comfort in this earthly vale,
Although by his sight his sin be multiplied.
GLOUCESTER. Stand by, my masters; bring him near the King;
His Highness' pleasure is to talk with him.
KING HENRY. Good fellow, tell us here the circumstance,
That we for thee may glorify the Lord.
What, hast thou been long blind and now restor'd?
SIMPCOX. Born blind, an't please your Grace.
WIFE. Ay indeed was he.
SUFFOLK. What woman is this?
WIFE. His wife, an't like your worship.
GLOUCESTER. Hadst thou been his mother, thou couldst have better
told.
KING HENRY. Where wert thou born?
SIMPCOX. At Berwick in the north, an't like your Grace.
KING HENRY. Poor soul, God's goodness hath been great to thee.
Let never day nor night unhallowed pass,
But still remember what the Lord hath done.
QUEEN. Tell me, good fellow, cam'st thou here by chance,
Or of devotion, to this holy shrine?
SIMPCOX. God knows, of pure devotion; being call'd
A hundred times and oft'ner, in my sleep,
By good Saint Alban, who said 'Simpcox, come,
Come, offer at my shrine, and I will help thee.'
WIFE. Most true, forsooth; and many time and oft
Myself have heard a voice to call him so.
CARDINAL. What, art thou lame?
SIMPCOX. Ay, God Almighty help me!
SUFFOLK. How cam'st thou so?
SIMPCOX. A fall off of a tree.
WIFE. A plum tree, master.
GLOUCESTER. How long hast thou been blind?
SIMPCOX. O, born so, master!
GLOUCESTER. What, and wouldst climb a tree?
SIMPCOX. But that in all my life, when I was a youth.
WIFE. Too true; and bought his climbing very dear.
GLOUCESTER. Mass, thou lov'dst plums well, that wouldst venture so.
SIMPCOX. Alas, good master, my wife desir'd some damsons
And made me climb, With danger of my life.
GLOUCESTER. A subtle knave! But yet it shall not serve:
Let me see thine eyes; wink now; now open them;
In my opinion yet thou seest not well.
SIMPCOX. Yes, master, clear as day, I thank God and Saint Alban.
GLOUCESTER. Say'st thou me so? What colour is this cloak of?
SIMPCOX. Red, master; red as blood.
GLOUCESTER. Why, that's well said. What colour is my gown of?
SIMPCOX. Black, forsooth; coal-black as jet.
KING HENRY. Why, then, thou know'st what colour jet is of?
SUFFOLK. And yet, I think, jet did he never see.
GLOUCESTER. But cloaks and gowns before this day a many.
WIFE. Never before this day in all his life.
GLOUCESTER. Tell me, sirrah, what's my name?
SIMPCOX. Alas, master, I know not.
GLOUCESTER. What's his name?
SIMPCOX. I know not.
GLOUCESTER. Nor his?
SIMPCOX. No, indeed, master.
GLOUCESTER. What's thine own name?
SIMPCOX. Saunder Simpcox, an if it please you, master.
GLOUCESTER. Then, Saunder, sit there, the lying'st knave in
Christendom. If thou hadst been born blind, thou mightst as well
have known all our names as thus to name the several colours we
do wear. Sight may distinguish of colours; but suddenly to
nominate them all, it is impossible. My lords, Saint Alban here
hath done a miracle; and would ye not think his cunning to be
great that could restore this cripple to his legs again?
SIMPCOX. O master, that you could!
GLOUCESTER. My masters of Saint Albans, have you not beadles in
your town, and things call'd whips?
MAYOR. Yes, my lord, if it please your Grace.
GLOUCESTER. Then send for one presently.
MAYOR. Sirrah, go fetch the beadle hither straight.
Exit an attendant
GLOUCESTER. Now fetch me a stool hither by and by. [A stool
brought] Now, sirrah, if you mean to save yourself from whipping,
leap me over this stool and run away.
SIMPCOX. Alas, master, I am not able to stand alone!
You go about to torture me in vain.
Enter a BEADLE with whips
GLOUCESTER. Well, sir, we must have you find your legs.
Sirrah beadle, whip him till he leap over that same stool.
BEADLE. I will, my lord. Come on, sirrah; off with your doublet
quickly.
SIMPCOX. Alas, master, what shall I do? I am not able to stand.
After the BEADLE hath hit him once, he leaps over
the stool and runs away; and they follow and cry
'A miracle!'
KING HENRY. O God, seest Thou this, and bearest so long?
QUEEN. It made me laugh to see the villain run.
GLOUCESTER. Follow the knave, and take this drab away.
WIFE. Alas, sir, we did it for pure need!
GLOUCESTER. Let them be whipp'd through every market town till they
come to Berwick, from whence they came.
Exeunt MAYOR, BEADLE, WIFE, &c.
CARDINAL. Duke Humphrey has done a miracle to-day.
SUFFOLK. True; made the lame to leap and fly away.
GLOUCESTER. But you have done more miracles than I:
You made in a day, my lord, whole towns to fly.
Enter BUCKINGHAM
KING HENRY. What tidings with our cousin Buckingham?
BUCKINGHAM. Such as my heart doth tremble to unfold:
A sort of naughty persons, lewdly bent,
Under the countenance and confederacy
Of Lady Eleanor, the Protector's wife,
The ringleader and head of all this rout,
Have practis'd dangerously against your state,
Dealing with witches and with conjurers,
Whom we have apprehended in the fact,
Raising up wicked spirits from under ground,
Demanding of King Henry's life and death
And other of your Highness' Privy Council,
As more at large your Grace shall understand.
CARDINAL. And so, my Lord Protector, by this means
Your lady is forthcoming yet at London.
This news, I think, hath turn'd your weapon's edge;
'Tis like, my lord, you will not keep your hour.
GLOUCESTER. Ambitious churchman, leave to afflict my heart.
Sorrow and grief have vanquish'd all my powers;
And, vanquish'd as I am, I yield to the
Or to the meanest groom.
KING HENRY. O God, what mischiefs work the wicked ones,
Heaping confusion on their own heads thereby!
QUEEN. Gloucester, see here the tainture of thy nest;
And look thyself be faultless, thou wert best.
GLOUCESTER. Madam, for myself, to heaven I do appeal
How I have lov'd my King and commonweal;
And for my wife I know not how it stands.
Sorry I am to hear what I have heard.
Noble she is; but if she have forgot
Honour and virtue, and convers'd with such
As, like to pitch, defile nobility,
I banish her my bed and company
And give her as a prey to law and shame,
That hath dishonoured Gloucester's honest name.
KING HENRY. Well, for this night we will repose us here.
To-morrow toward London back again
To look into this business thoroughly
And call these foul offenders to their answers,
And poise the cause in justice' equal scales,
Whose beam stands sure, whose rightful cause prevails.
Flourish. Exeunt
SCENE II.
London. The DUKE OF YORK'S garden
Enter YORK, SALISBURY, and WARWICK
YORK. Now, my good Lords of Salisbury and Warwick,
Our simple supper ended, give me leave
In this close walk to satisfy myself
In craving your opinion of my tide,
Which is infallible, to England's crown.
SALISBURY. My lord, I long to hear it at full.
WARWICK. Sweet York, begin; and if thy claim be good,
The Nevils are thy subjects to command.
YORK. Then thus:
Edward the Third, my lords, had seven sons;
The first, Edward the Black Prince, Prince of Wales;
The second, William of Hatfield; and the third,
Lionel Duke of Clarence; next to whom
Was John of Gaunt, the Duke of Lancaster;
The fifth was Edmund Langley, Duke of York;
The sixth was Thomas of Woodstock, Duke of Gloucester;
William of Windsor was the seventh and last.
Edward the Black Prince died before his father
And left behind him Richard, his only son,
Who, after Edward the Third's death, reign'd as king
Till Henry Bolingbroke, Duke of Lancaster,
The eldest son and heir of John of Gaunt,
Crown'd by the name of Henry the Fourth,
Seiz'd on the realm, depos'd the rightful king,
Sent his poor queen to France, from whence she came.
And him to Pomfret, where, as all you know,
Harmless Richard was murdered traitorously.
WARWICK. Father, the Duke hath told the truth;
Thus got the house of Lancaster the crown.
YORK. Which now they hold by force, and not by right;
For Richard, the first son's heir, being dead,
The issue of the next son should have reign'd.
SALISBURY. But William of Hatfield died without an heir.
YORK. The third son, Duke of Clarence, from whose line
I claim the crown, had issue Philippe, a daughter,
Who married Edmund Mortimer, Earl of March;
Edmund had issue, Roger Earl of March;
Roger had issue, Edmund, Anne, and Eleanor.
SALISBURY. This Edmund, in the reign of Bolingbroke,
As I have read, laid claim unto the crown;
And, but for Owen Glendower, had been king,
Who kept him in captivity till he died.
But, to the rest.
YORK. His eldest sister, Anne,
My mother, being heir unto the crown,
Married Richard Earl of Cambridge, who was
To Edmund Langley, Edward the Third's fifth son, son.
By her I claim the kingdom: she was heir
To Roger Earl of March, who was the son
Of Edmund Mortimer, who married Philippe,
Sole daughter unto Lionel Duke of Clarence;
So, if the issue of the elder son
Succeed before the younger, I am King.
WARWICK. What plain proceedings is more plain than this?
Henry doth claim the crown from John of Gaunt,
The fourth son: York claims it from the third.
Till Lionel's issue fails, his should not reign.
It fails not yet, but flourishes in thee
And in thy sons, fair slips of such a stock.
Then, father Salisbury, kneel we together,
And in this private plot be we the first
That shall salute our rightful sovereign
With honour of his birthright to the crown.
BOTH. Long live our sovereign Richard, England's King!
YORK. We thank you, lords. But I am not your king
Till I be crown'd, and that my sword be stain'd
With heart-blood of the house of Lancaster;
And that's not suddenly to be perform'd,
But with advice and silent secrecy.
Do you as I do in these dangerous days:
Wink at the Duke of Suffolk's insolence,
At Beaufort's pride, at Somerset's ambition,
At Buckingham, and all the crew of them,
Till they have snar'd the shepherd of the flock,
That virtuous prince, the good Duke Humphrey;
'Tis that they seek; and they, in seeking that,
Shall find their deaths, if York can prophesy.
SALISBURY. My lord, break we off; we know your mind at full.
WARWICK. My heart assures me that the Earl of Warwick
Shall one day make the Duke of York a king.
YORK. And, Nevil, this I do assure myself,
Richard shall live to make the Earl of Warwick
The greatest man in England but the King. Exeunt
SCENE III.
London. A hall of justice
Sound trumpets. Enter the KING and State: the QUEEN, GLOUCESTER, YORK,
SUFFOLK, and SALISBURY, with guard, to banish the DUCHESS. Enter, guarded,
the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER, MARGERY JOURDAIN, HUME, SOUTHWELL, and BOLINGBROKE
KING HENRY. Stand forth, Dame Eleanor Cobham, Gloucester's wife:
In sight of God and us, your guilt is great;
Receive the sentence of the law for sins
Such as by God's book are adjudg'd to death.
You four, from hence to prison back again;
From thence unto the place of execution:
The witch in Smithfield shall be burnt to ashes,
And you three shall be strangled on the gallows.
You, madam, for you are more nobly born,
Despoiled of your honour in your life,
Shall, after three days' open penance done,
Live in your country here in banishment
With Sir John Stanley in the Isle of Man.
DUCHESS. Welcome is banishment; welcome were my death.
GLOUCESTER. Eleanor, the law, thou seest, hath judged thee.
I cannot justify whom the law condemns.
Exeunt the DUCHESS and the other prisoners, guarded
Mine eyes are full of tears, my heart of grief.
Ah, Humphrey, this dishonour in thine age
Will bring thy head with sorrow to the ground!
I beseech your Majesty give me leave to go;
Sorrow would solace, and mine age would ease.
KING HENRY. Stay, Humphrey Duke of Gloucester; ere thou go,
Give up thy staff; Henry will to himself
Protector be; and God shall be my hope,
My stay, my guide, and lantern to my feet.
And go in peace, Humphrey, no less belov'd
Than when thou wert Protector to thy King.
QUEEN. I see no reason why a king of years
Should be to be protected like a child.
God and King Henry govern England's realm!
Give up your staff, sir, and the King his realm.
GLOUCESTER. My staff! Here, noble Henry, is my staff.
As willingly do I the same resign
As ere thy father Henry made it mine;
And even as willingly at thy feet I leave it
As others would ambitiously receive it.
Farewell, good King; when I am dead and gone,
May honourable peace attend thy throne! Exit
QUEEN. Why, now is Henry King, and Margaret Queen,
And Humphrey Duke of Gloucester scarce himself,
That bears so shrewd a maim: two pulls at once-
His lady banish'd and a limb lopp'd off.
This staff of honour raught, there let it stand
Where it best fits to be, in Henry's hand.
SUFFOLK. Thus droops this lofty pine and hangs his sprays;
Thus Eleanor's pride dies in her youngest days.
YORK. Lords, let him go. Please it your Majesty,
This is the day appointed for the combat;
And ready are the appellant and defendant,
The armourer and his man, to enter the lists,
So please your Highness to behold the fight.
QUEEN. Ay, good my lord; for purposely therefore
Left I the court, to see this quarrel tried.
KING HENRY. A God's name, see the lists and all things fit;
Here let them end it, and God defend the right!
YORK. I never saw a fellow worse bested,
Or more afraid to fight, than is the appellant,
The servant of his armourer, my lords.
Enter at one door, HORNER, the Armourer, and his
NEIGHBOURS, drinking to him so much that he is
drunk; and he enters with a drum before him and
his staff with a sand-bag fastened to it; and at the
other door PETER, his man, with a drum and sandbag,
and PRENTICES drinking to him
FIRST NEIGHBOUR. Here, neighbour Horner, I drink to you in a cup of
sack; and fear not, neighbour, you shall do well enough.
SECOND NEIGHBOUR. And here, neighbour, here's a cup of charneco.
THIRD NEIGHBOUR. And here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour;
drink, and fear not your man.
HORNER. Let it come, i' faith, and I'll pledge you all; and a fig
for Peter!
FIRST PRENTICE. Here, Peter, I drink to thee; and be not afraid.
SECOND PRENTICE. Be merry, Peter, and fear not thy master: fight
for credit of the prentices.
PETER. I thank you all. Drink, and pray for me, I pray you; for I
think I have taken my last draught in this world. Here, Robin, an
if I die, I give thee my apron; and, Will, thou shalt have my
hammer; and here, Tom, take all the money that I have. O Lord
bless me, I pray God! for I am never able to deal with my master,
he hath learnt so much fence already.
SALISBURY. Come, leave your drinking and fall to blows.
Sirrah, what's thy name?
PETER. Peter, forsooth.
SALISBURY. Peter? What more?
PETER. Thump.
SALISBURY. Thump? Then see thou thump thy master well.
HORNER. Masters, I am come hither, as it were, upon my man's
instigation, to prove him a knave and myself an honest man; and
touching the Duke of York, I will take my death I never meant him
any ill, nor the King, nor the Queen; and therefore, Peter, have
at thee with a down right blow!
YORK. Dispatch- this knave's tongue begins to double.
Sound, trumpets, alarum to the combatants!
[Alarum. They fight and PETER strikes him down]
HORNER. Hold, Peter, hold! I confess, I confess treason.
[Dies]
YORK. Take away his weapon. Fellow, thank God, and the good wine in
thy master's way.
PETER. O God, have I overcome mine enemies in this presence? O
Peter, thou hast prevail'd in right!
KING HENRY. Go, take hence that traitor from our sight,
For by his death we do perceive his guilt;
And God in justice hath reveal'd to us
The truth and innocence of this poor fellow,
Which he had thought to have murder'd wrongfully.
Come, fellow, follow us for thy reward.
Sound a flourish. Exeunt
SCENE IV.
London. A street
Enter DUKE HUMPHREY and his men, in mourning cloaks
GLOUCESTER. Thus sometimes hath the brightest day a cloud,
And after summer evermore succeeds
Barren winter, with his wrathful nipping cold;
So cares and joys abound, as seasons fleet.
Sirs, what's o'clock?
SERVING-MAN. Ten, my lord.
GLOUCESTER. Ten is the hour that was appointed me
To watch the coming of my punish'd duchess.
Uneath may she endure the flinty streets
To tread them with her tender-feeling feet.
Sweet Nell, ill can thy noble mind abrook
The abject people gazing on thy face,
With envious looks, laughing at thy shame,
That erst did follow thy proud chariot wheels
When thou didst ride in triumph through the streets.
But, soft! I think she comes, and I'll prepare
My tear-stain'd eyes to see her miseries.
Enter the DUCHESS OF GLOUCESTER in a white sheet,
and a taper burning in her hand, with SIR JOHN
STANLEY, the SHERIFF, and OFFICERS
SERVING-MAN. So please your Grace, we'll take her from the sheriff.
GLOUCESTER. No, stir not for your lives; let her pass by.
DUCHESS. Come you, my lord, to see my open shame?
Now thou dost penance too. Look how they gaze!
See how the giddy multitude do point
And nod their heads and throw their eyes on thee;
Ah, Gloucester, hide thee from their hateful looks,
And, in thy closet pent up, rue my shame
And ban thine enemies, both mine and thine!
GLOUCESTER. Be patient, gentle Nell; forget this grief.
DUCHESS. Ah, Gloucester, teach me to forget myself!
For whilst I think I am thy married wife
And thou a prince, Protector of this land,
Methinks I should not thus be led along,
Mail'd up in shame, with papers on my back,
And follow'd with a rabble that rejoice
To see my tears and hear my deep-fet groans.
The ruthless flint doth cut my tender feet,
And when I start, the envious people laugh
And bid me be advised how I tread.
Ah, Humphrey, can I bear this shameful yoke?
Trowest thou that e'er I'll look upon the world
Or count them happy that enjoy the sun?
No; dark shall be my light and night my day;
To think upon my pomp shall be my hell.
Sometimes I'll say I am Duke Humphrey's wife,
And he a prince, and ruler of the land;
Yet so he rul'd, and such a prince he was,
As he stood by whilst I, his forlorn duchess,
Was made a wonder and a pointing-stock
To every idle rascal follower.
But be thou mild, and blush not at my shame,
Nor stir at nothing till the axe of death
Hang over thee, as sure it shortly will.
For Suffolk- he that can do all in all
With her that hateth thee and hates us all-
And York, and impious Beaufort, that false priest,
Have all lim'd bushes to betray thy wings,
And, fly thou how thou canst, they'll tangle thee.
But fear not thou until thy foot be snar'd,
Nor never seek prevention of thy foes.
GLOUCESTER. Ah, Nell, forbear! Thou aimest all awry.
I must offend before I be attainted;
And had I twenty times so many foes,
And each of them had twenty times their power,
All these could not procure me any scathe
So long as I am loyal, true, and crimeless.
Wouldst have me rescue thee from this reproach?
Why, yet thy scandal were not wip'd away,
But I in danger for the breach of law.
Thy greatest help is quiet, gentle Nell.
I pray thee sort thy heart to patience;
These few days' wonder will be quickly worn.
Enter a HERALD
HERALD. I summon your Grace to his Majesty's Parliament,
Holden at Bury the first of this next month.
GLOUCESTER. And my consent ne'er ask'd herein before!
This is close dealing. Well, I will be there. Exit HERALD
My Nell, I take my leave- and, master sheriff,
Let not her penance exceed the King's commission.
SHERIFF. An't please your Grace, here my commission stays;
And Sir John Stanley is appointed now
To take her with him to the Isle of Man.
GLOUCESTER. Must you, Sir John, protect my lady here?
STANLEY. So am I given in charge, may't please your Grace.
GLOUCESTER. Entreat her not the worse in that I pray
You use her well; the world may laugh again,
And I may live to do you kindness if
You do it her. And so, Sir John, farewell.
DUCHESS. What, gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell!
GLOUCESTER. Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak.
Exeunt GLOUCESTER and servants
DUCHESS. Art thou gone too? All comfort go with thee!
For none abides with me. My joy is death-
Death, at whose name I oft have been afeard,
Because I wish'd this world's eternity.
Stanley, I prithee go, and take me hence;
I care not whither, for I beg no favour,
Only convey me where thou art commanded.
STANLEY. Why, madam, that is to the Isle of Man,
There to be us'd according to your state.
DUCHESS. That's bad enough, for I am but reproach-
And shall I then be us'd reproachfully?
STANLEY. Like to a duchess and Duke Humphrey's lady;
According to that state you shall be us'd.
DUCHESS. Sheriff, farewell, and better than I fare,
Although thou hast been conduct of my shame.
SHERIFF. It is my office; and, madam, pardon me.
DUCHESS. Ay, ay, farewell; thy office is discharg'd.
Come, Stanley, shall we go?
STANLEY. Madam, your penance done, throw off this sheet,
And go we to attire you for our journey.
DUCHESS. My shame will not be shifted with my sheet.
No, it will hang upon my richest robes
And show itself, attire me how I can.
Go, lead the way; I long to see my prison. Exeunt
<>
ACT III. SCENE I.
The Abbey at Bury St. Edmunds
Sound a sennet. Enter the KING, the QUEEN, CARDINAL, SUFFOLK, YORK,
BUCKINGHAM, SALISBURY, and WARWICK, to the Parliament
KING HENRY. I muse my Lord of Gloucester is not come.
'Tis not his wont to be the hindmost man,
Whate'er occasion keeps him from us now.
QUEEN. Can you not see, or will ye not observe
The strangeness of his alter'd countenance?
With what a majesty he bears himself;
How insolent of late he is become,
How proud, how peremptory, and unlike himself?
We know the time since he was mild and affable,
And if we did but glance a far-off look
Immediately he was upon his knee,
That all the court admir'd him for submission.
But meet him now and be it in the morn,
When every one will give the time of day,
He knits his brow and shows an angry eye
And passeth by with stiff unbowed knee,
Disdaining duty that to us belongs.
Small curs are not regarded when they grin,
But great men tremble when the lion roars,
And Humphrey is no little man in England.
First note that he is near you in descent,
And should you fall he is the next will mount;
Me seemeth, then, it is no policy-
Respecting what a rancorous mind he bears,
And his advantage following your decease-
That he should come about your royal person
Or be admitted to your Highness' Council.
By flattery hath he won the commons' hearts;
And when he please to make commotion,
'Tis to be fear'd they all will follow him.
Now 'tis the spring, and weeds are shallow-rooted;
Suffer them now, and they'll o'ergrow the garden
And choke the herbs for want of husbandry.
The reverent care I bear unto my lord
Made me collect these dangers in the Duke.
If it be fond, can it a woman's fear;
Which fear if better reasons can supplant,
I will subscribe, and say I wrong'd the Duke.
My Lord of Suffolk, Buckingham, and York,
Reprove my allegation if you can,
Or else conclude my words effectual.
SUFFOLK. Well hath your Highness seen into this duke;
And had I first been put to speak my mind,
I think I should have told your Grace's tale.
The Duchess, by his subornation,
Upon my life, began her devilish practices;
Or if he were not privy to those faults,
Yet by reputing of his high descent-
As next the King he was successive heir-
And such high vaunts of his nobility,
Did instigate the bedlam brainsick Duchess
By wicked means to frame our sovereign's fall.
Smooth runs the water where the brook is deep,
And in his simple show he harbours treason.
The fox barks not when he would steal the lamb.
No, no, my sovereign, Gloucester is a man
Unsounded yet, and full of deep deceit.
CARDINAL. Did he not, contrary to form of law,
Devise strange deaths for small offences done?
YORK. And did he not, in his protectorship,
Levy great sums of money through the realm
For soldiers' pay in France, and never sent it?
By means whereof the towns each day revolted.
BUCKINGHAM. Tut, these are petty faults to faults unknown
Which time will bring to light in smooth Duke Humphrey.
KING HENRY. My lords, at once: the care you have of us,
To mow down thorns that would annoy our foot,
Is worthy praise; but shall I speak my conscience?
Our kinsman Gloucester is as innocent
From meaning treason to our royal person
As is the sucking lamb or harmless dove:
The Duke is virtuous, mild, and too well given
To dream on evil or to work my downfall.
QUEEN. Ah, what's more dangerous than this fond affiance?
Seems he a dove? His feathers are but borrow'd,
For he's disposed as the hateful raven.
Is he a lamb? His skin is surely lent him,
For he's inclin'd as is the ravenous wolf.
Who cannot steal a shape that means deceit?
Take heed, my lord; the welfare of us all
Hangs on the cutting short that fraudful man.
