The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  No leisure had he to enrank his men.

  He wanted pikes to set before his archers—

  Instead whereof, sharp stakes plucked 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, enraged he slew.

  The French exclaimed the devil was in arms:

  All the whole army stood agazed on him.

  His soldiers, spying his undaunted spirit,

  ‘A Talbot! A Talbot!’ cried out amain,

  And rushed into the bowels of the battle.

  Here had the conquest fully been sealed up,

  If Sir John Fastolf had not played the coward.

  He, being in the vanguard placed behind,

  With purpose to relieve and follow them,

  Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.

  Hence grew the general wrack and massacre.

  Enclosèd 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 betrayed.

  THIRD MESSENGER

  O no, he lives, but is took prisoner,

  And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford;

  Most of the rest slaughtered, 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 all Europe quake.

  THIRD MESSENGER

  So you had need. Fore Orléans, besieged,

  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.

  ⌈Exit⌉

  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 ordained his special governor,

  And for his safety there I’ll best devise. Exit

  WINCHESTER

  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. Exit

  1.2 Sound a flourish. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou, marching with drummer 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 Orléans

  Otherwhiles the famished English, like pale ghosts,

  Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.

  ALENÇON

  They want their porrage 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.

  RENÉ

  Let’s raise the siege. Why live we idly here?

  Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear.

  Remaineth none but mad-brained 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

  1.3 Here alarum. The French are beaten back by the English with great loss. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou

  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.

  RENÉ

  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.

  ALENÇON

  Froissart, a countryman of ours, records

  England all Olivers and Rolands 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-boned rascals, who would e’er suppose

  They had such courage and audacity?

  CHARLES

  Let’s leave this town, for they are hare-brained 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.

  RENÉ

  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.

  ALENÇON Be it SO.

  Enter the Bastard of Orléans

  BASTARD

  Where’s the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.

  CHARLES

  Bastard of Orléans, thrice welcome to us.

  BASTARD

  Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appalled.

  Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?

  Be not dismayed, 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,

  René 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.

  Enter ⌈the Bastard of Orléans with⌉ Joan la Pucelle, armed

  RENÉ (as Charles)


  Fair maid, is’t thou wilt do these wondrous feats?

  JOAN

  René, is’t thou that thinkest to beguile me?

  Where is the Dauphin? (To Charles) Come, come from behind.

  I know thee well, though never seen before.

  Be not amazed. There’s nothing hid from me.

  In private will I talk with thee apart.

  Stand back you lords, and give us leave awhile.

  René, Alençon ⌈and Bastard⌉ stand apart

  RENÉ ⌈to Alençon and Bastard⌉

  She takes upon her bravely, at first dash.

  JOAN

  Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd’s daughter,

  My wit untrained in any kind of art.

  Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleased

  To shine on my contemptible estate.

  Lo, whilst I waited on my tender lambs,

  And to sun’s parching heat displayed my cheeks,

  God’s mother deigned to appear to me,

  And in a vision, full of majesty,

  Willed me to leave my base vocation

  And free my country from calamity.

  Her aid she promised, and assured success.

  In complete glory she revealed herself—

  And whereas I was black and swart before,

  With those clear rays which she infused on me

  That beauty am I blest 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 astonished me with thy high terms.

  Only this proof I’ll of thy valour make:

  In single combat thou shalt buckle with me.

  An if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;

  Otherwise, I renounce all confidence.

  JOAN

  I am prepared. Here is my keen-edged sword,

  Decked 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 a God’s name. I fear no woman.

  JOAN

  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.

  JOAN

  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 subdued.

  Excellent Pucelle if thy name be so,

  Let me thy servant, and not sovereign be.

  ’Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.

  JOAN

  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.

  RENÉ ⌈to the other lords apart⌉

  My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

  ALENÇON

  Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock,

  Else ne’er could he so long protract his speech.

  RENÉ

  Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?

  ALENÇON

  He may mean more than we poor men do know.

  These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.

  RENÉ (to Charles)

  My lord, where are you? What devise you on?

  Shall we give o’er Orléans, or no?

  JOAN

  Why, no, I say. Distrustful recreants,

  Fight till the last gasp; I’ll be your guard.

  CHARLES

  What she says, I’ll confirm. We’ll fight it out.

  JOAN

  Assigned am I to be the English scourge.

  This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise.

  Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon’s 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 naught.

  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 bore at once.

  CHARLES

  Was Mohammed 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?

  ALENÇON

  Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.

  RENÉ

  Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours.

  Drive them from Orléans, and be immortalized.

  CHARLES

  Presently we’ll try. Come, let’s away about it.

  No prophet will I trust, if she prove false. Exeunt

  1.4 Enter the Duke of Gloucester, with his Servingmen 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?

  ⌈A Servingman⌉ knocketh on the gates

  Open the gates: ’tis Gloucester that calls.

  FIRST WARDER ⌈within the Tower⌉

  Who’s there that knocketh so imperiously?

  GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN

  It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.

  SECOND WARDER ⌈within the Tower⌉

  Whoe’er he be, you may not be let in.

  GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN

  Villains, answer you so the Lord Protector?

  FIRST WARDER ⌈within the Tower⌉

  The Lord protect him, so we answer him.

  We do no otherwise than we are willed.

  GLOUCESTER

  Who willèd you? Or whose will stands, but mine?

  There’s none Protector of the realm but I.

  (To Servingmen) 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

  WOODVILLE ⌈within the Tower⌉

  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 the Tower⌉

  Have patience, noble duke: I may not open.

  My lord of Winchester forbids.

  From him I have express commandëment

  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.

  SERVINGMEN

  Open the gates unto the Lord Protector,

  Or we’ll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

  Enter, to the Lord Protector at the Tower gates, the Bishop of Winchester and his men in tawny coats

  WINCHESTER

  How now, a
mbitious vizier! What means this?

  GLOUCESTER

  Peeled 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,

  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 purple 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 dared and bearded to my face?

  Draw, men, for all this privileged place.

  All draw their swords

  Blue coats to tawny coats!—Priest, beware your

  beard.

  I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly.

  Under my feet I’ll stamp thy bishop’s mitre.

  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!’

  (To his Servingmen)

  Now beat them hence. Why do you let them stay?

  (To Winchester)

  Thee I’ll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep’s array.

  Out, tawny coats! Out, cloaked hypocrite!

  Here Gloucester’s men beat out the Bishop’s men.

  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 distrained the Tower to his use.

  WINCHESTER (to Mayor)

  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