The Oxford Shakespeare: The Complete Works

by William Shakespeare

  To crown himself king and suppress the Prince.

  GLOUCESTER

  I will not answer thee with words but blows.

  Here the factions skirmish again

  MAYOR

  Naught rests for me, in this tumultuous strife,

  But to make open proclamation.

  Come, officer, as loud as e’er thou canst, cry.

  OFFICER 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.

  The skirmishes cease

  GLOUCESTER

  Bishop, 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.

  (Aside) This bishop is 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 both factions severally

  MAYOR (to Officers)

  See the coast cleared, and then we will depart.—

  Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear!

  I myself fight not once in forty year.

  Exeunt

  1.5 Enter the Master Gunner of Orleans with his Boy

  MASTER GUNNER

  Sirrah, thou know’st how Orléans is besieged,

  And how the English have the suburbs won.

  BOY

  Father, I know, and oft have shot at them;

  Howe’er, unfortunate, I missed my aim.

  MASTER GUNNER

  But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me.

  Chief Master Gunner am I of this town;

  Something I must do to procure me grace.

  The Prince’s spials have informed me

  How the English, in the suburbs close entrenched,

  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 placed,

  And even these three days have I watched, 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.

  BOY

  Father, I warrant you, take you no care—

  ⌈Exit Master Gunner at one door⌉

  I’ll never trouble you, if I may spy them.

  Exit ⌈at the other door⌉

  1.6 Enter the Earl of Salisbury and Lord Talbot above on the turrets with others, among them Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glasdale

  SALISBURY

  Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned?

  How wert thou handled, being prisoner?

  Or by what means got’st thou to be released?

  Discourse, I prithee, on this turret’s top.

  TALBOT

  The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner,

  Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;

  For him was I exchanged and ransomed.

  But with a baser man-of-arms by far

  Once in contempt they would have bartered me—

  Which I, disdaining, scorned, and craved death

  Rather than I would be so pilled esteemed.

  In fine, redeemed I was, as I desired.

  But O, the treacherous Fastolf 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 entertained.

  TALBOT

  With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.

  In open market place produced 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 digged 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 deemed me not secure:

  So great fear of my name ’mongst them were spread

  That they supposed I could rend bars of steel

  And spurn in pieces posts of adamant.

  Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had

  That walked about me every minute while;

  And if I did but stir out of my bed,

  Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

  The Boy ⌈passes over the stage⌉ with a linstock

  SALISBURY

  I grieve to hear what torments you endured.

  But we will be revenged sufficiently.

  Now it is supper time in Orléans.

  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 Glasdale,

  Let me have your express opinions

  Where is best place to make our batt’ry next.

  ⌈They look through the grate⌉

  GARGRAVE

  I think at the north gate, for there stands Lou.

  GLASDALE

  And I here, at the bulwark of the Bridge.

  TALBOT

  For aught I see, this city must be famished

  Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

  Here they shoot off chambers ⌈within⌉ 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 crossed 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 contrived this woeful tragedy!

  In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame;

  Henry the Fifth he first trained 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.—

  Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?

  Speak unto Talbot. Nay, look up to him.—

  Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.

  ⌈Exit one with Gargrave’s body⌉

  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?<
br />
  Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?

  Enter a Messenger

  MESSENGER

  My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head.

  The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle joined,

  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 revenged.

  Frenchmen, I’ll be a Salisbury to you.

  Pucelle or pucelle, Dauphin or dog-fish,

  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 carrying Salisbury

  1.7 Here an alarum again, and Lord Talbot pursueth the Dauphin and driveth him. Then enter Joan la Pucelle driving Englishmen before her and ⌈exeunt⌉. Then enter Lord 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 men.

  Enter Joan la Pucelle

  Here, here she comes. (To Joan) 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.

  JOAN

  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

  JOAN

  Talbot, farewell. Thy hour is not yet come.

  I must go victual Orléans forthwith.

  A short alarum, then ⌈the French pass over the stage and⌉ 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 into the town

  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 called us, for our fierceness, English dogs;

  Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.

  A short alarum. ⌈Enter English soldiers⌉

  Hark, countrymen: either renew the fight

  Or tear the lions out of England’s coat.

  Renounce your style; 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-subduèd 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 entered into Orléans

  In spite of us or aught that we could do.

  ⌈Exeunt Soldiers⌉

  O would I were to die with Salisbury!

  The shame hereof will make me hide my head.

  Exit. Alarum. Retreat

  1.8 Flourish. Enter on the walls Joan la Pucelle, Charles the Dauphin, René Duke of Anjou, the Duke of Alençon and French Soldiers ⌈with colours⌉

  JOAN

  Advance our waving colours on the walls;

  Rescued is Orléans from the English.

  Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word.

  CHARLES

  Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter,

  How shall I honour thee for this success?

  Thy promises are like Adonis’ garden,

  That one day bloomed and fruitful were the next.

  France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess!

  Recovered is the town of Orléans.

  More blessed hap did ne’er befall our state.

  RENÉ

  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.

  ALENÇON

  All France will be replete with mirth and joy

  When they shall hear how we have played 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 pyramid 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-jewelled 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

  2.1 Enter ⌈on the walls⌉ a French Sergeant of a band, with 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.

  ⌈A SENTINEL⌉

  Sergeant, you shall. Exit Sergeant Thus are poor servitors,

  When others sleep upon their quiet beds,

  Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.

  Enter Lord Talbot, the Dukes of Bedford and Burgundy, and soldiers 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 caroused and banqueted.

  Embrace we then this opportunity,

  As fitting best to quittance their deceit,

  Contrived by art and baleful sorcery.

  BEDFORD

  Coward of France! How much he wrongs his fame,

  Despairing of his own arms’ 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 f
ail,

  The other yet may rise against their force.

  BEDFORD

  Agreed. I’ll to yon corner.

  BURGUNDY And I to this.

  ⌈Exeunt severally Bedford and Burgundy with some soldiers⌉

  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.

  ⌈Talbot and his soldiers⌉ scale the walls

  ⌈SENTINELS⌉

  Arm! Arm! The enemy doth make assault!

  ENGLISH SOLDIERS Saint George! A Talbot! Exeunt above

  ⌈Alarum.⌉ The French ⌈soldiers⌉ leap o’er the walls in their shirts ⌈and exeunt⌉. Enter several ways the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou, half ready and half unready

  ALENÇON

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

  BASTARD

  Unready? Ay, and glad we scaped so well.

  RENÉ

  ‘Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,

  Hearing alarums at our chamber doors.

  ALENÇON

  Of all exploits since first I followed 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.

  RENÉ

  If not of hell, the heavens sure favour him.

  ALENÇON

  Here cometh Charles. I marvel how he sped.

  Enter Charles the Dauphin and Joan la Pucelle

  BASTARD

  Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.

  CHARLES (to Joan)

  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?

  JOAN

  Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?

  At all times will you have my power alike?