The Complete Works

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