Complete Plays, The
Page 201
No way to that, for weakness, which she enter’d.
Enter Joan La Pucelle on the top, thrusting out a torch burning
Joan La Pucelle
Behold, this is the happy wedding torch
That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,
But burning fatal to the Talbotites!
Exit
Bastard Of Orleans
See, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend;
The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
Charles
Now shine it like a comet of revenge,
A prophet to the fall of all our foes!
Reignier
Defer no time, delays have dangerous ends;
Enter, and cry ‘The Dauphin!’ presently,
And then do execution on the watch.
Alarum. Exeunt
An alarum. Enter Talbot in an excursion
Talbot
France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
Pucelle, that witch, that damned sorceress,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares,
That hardly we escaped the pride of France.
Exit
An alarum: excursions. Bedford, brought in sick in a chair. Enter Talbot and Burgundy without: within Joan La Pucelle, Charles, Bastard Of Orleans, Alencon, and Reignier, on the walls
Joan La 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!
Joan La Pucelle
What will 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.
Joan La Pucelle
Are ye so hot, sir? yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.
The English whisper together in council
God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?
Talbot
Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
Joan La 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 muleters of France!
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
Joan La Pucelle
Away, captains! let’s get us from the walls;
For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.
God be wi’ you, 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 all but Bedford and Attendants
An alarum: excursions. Enter 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 fly, 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
Retreat: excursions. Joan 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 recover’d 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 wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.
Talbot
But yet, before we go, let’s not forget
The noble Duke of Bedford late deceased,
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 III. THE PLAINS NEAR ROUEN.
Enter Charl
es, the Bastard Of Orleans, Alencon, Joan La Pucelle, and forces
Joan La 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 ruled.
Charles
We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence:
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust.
Bastard Of Orleans
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 reverenced like a blessed saint:
Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.
Joan La Pucelle
Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:
By fair persuasions mix’d with sugar’d 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 expulsed from France
And not have title of an earldom here.
Joan La 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 Burgundy and 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?
Joan La 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.
Joan La Pucelle
Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
Burgundy
Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Joan La Pucelle
Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defaced
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 woful 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.
Joan La Pucelle
Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,
Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.
Who joint’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 joint’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 batter’d 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.
Joan La Pucelle
[Aside] Done like a Frenchman: turn, and turn again!
Charles
Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh.
Bastard Of Orleans
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 IV. PARIS. THE PALACE.
Enter King Henry VI, Gloucester, Bishop Of 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 VI
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 VI
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
&n
bsp; In honour of my noble Lord of York:
Darest thou maintain the former words thou spakest?
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 know’st 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 I. PARIS. A HALL OF STATE.
Enter King Henry VI, Gloucester, Bishop Of Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Talbot, Exeter, the Governor, of Paris, and others
Gloucester
Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head.
Bishop of Winchester
God save King Henry, of that name the sixth!
Gloucester
Now, governor of Paris, take your oath,
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 practises against his state:
This shall ye do, so help you righteous God!
Enter 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 the 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 surprised 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.