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The Complete Works of William Shakespeare

Part 20 out of 63

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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

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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

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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

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WITH PERMISSION. ELECTRONIC AND MACHINE READABLE COPIES MAY BE
DISTRIBUTED SO LONG AS SUCH COPIES (1) ARE FOR YOUR OR OTHERS
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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

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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

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