The First Part of Henry the Sixth

  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

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 armsNe'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 reverenceI did not entertain thee as thou art.  TALBOT. Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconster    The mind of Talbot as you did mistake    The outward composition of his body.    What you have done hath not offended me.    Nor other satisfaction do I crave    But only, with your patience, that we may    Taste of your wine and see what cates you have,    For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well.  COUNTESS. With all my heart, and think me honoured    To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt

SCENE 4

London. The Temple garden

Enter the EARLS OF SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK;

RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and another LAWYER

  PLANTAGENET. Great lords and gentlemen, what means this    silence?    Dare no man answer in a case of truth?  SUFFOLK. Within the Temple Hall we were too loud;    The garden here is more convenient.  PLANTAGENET. Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth;    Or else was wrangling Somerset in th' error?  SUFFOLK. Faith, I have been a truant in the law    And never yet could frame my will to it;    And therefore frame the law unto my will.  SOMERSET. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then, between us.  WARWICK. Between two hawks, which flies the higher pitch;    Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth;    Between two blades, which bears the better temper;    Between two horses, which doth bear him best;    Between two girls, which hath the merriest eye    I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment;    But in these nice sharp quillets of the law,    Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw.  PLANTAGENET. Tut, tut, here is a mannerly forbearance:    The truth appears so naked on my side    That any purblind eye may find it out.  SOMERSET. And on my side it is so well apparell'd,    So clear, so shining, and so evident,    That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye.  PLANTAGENET. Since you are tongue-tied and so loath to speak,    In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts.    Let him that is a true-born gentleman    And stands upon the honour of his birth,    If he suppose that I have pleaded truth,    From off this brier pluck a white rose with me.  SOMERSET. Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer,    But dare maintain the party of the truth,    Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me.  WARWICK. I love no colours; and, without all colour    Of base insinuating flattery,    I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet.  SUFFOLK. I pluck this red rose with young Somerset,    And say withal I think he held the right.  VERNON. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no more    Till you conclude that he upon whose side    The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree    Shall yield the other in the right opinion.  SOMERSET. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected;    If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.  PLANTAGENET. And I.  VERNON. Then, for the truth and plainness of the case,    I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here,    Giving my verdict on the white rose side.  SOMERSET. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off,    Lest, bleeding, you do paint the white rose red,    And fall on my side so, against your will.  VERNON. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed,    Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt    And keep me on the side where still I am.  SOMERSET. Well, well, come on; who else?  LAWYER. [To Somerset] Unless my study and my books be    false,    The argument you held was wrong in you;    In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.  PLANTAGENET. Now, Somerset, where is your argument?  SOMERSET. Here in my scabbard, meditating that    Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.  PLANTAGENET. Meantime your cheeks do counterfeit our    roses;    For pale they look with fear, as witnessing    The truth on our side.  SOMERSET. No, Plantagenet,    'Tis not for fear but anger that thy cheeks    Blush for pure shame to counterfeit our roses,    And yet thy tongue will not confess thy error.  PLANTAGENET. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?  SOMERSET. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?  PLANTAGENET. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth;    Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood.  SOMERSET. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses,    That shall maintain what I have said is true,    Where false Plantagenet dare not be seen.  PLANTAGENET. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand,    I scorn thee and thy fashion, peevish boy.  SUFFOLK. Turn not thy scorns this way, Plantagenet.  PLANTAGENET. Proud Pole, I will, and scorn both him and    thee.  SUFFOLK. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat.  SOMERSET. Away, away, good William de la Pole!    We grace the yeoman by conversing with him.  WARWICK. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset;    His grandfather was Lionel Duke of Clarence,    Third son to the third Edward, King of England.    Spring crestless yeomen from so deep a root?  PLANTAGENET. He bears him on the place's privilege,    Or durst not for his craven heart say thus.  SOMERSET. By Him that made me, I'll maintain my words    On any plot of ground in Christendom.    Was not thy father, Richard Earl of Cambridge,    For treason executed in our late king's days?    And by his treason stand'st not thou attainted,    Corrupted, and exempt from ancient gentry?    His trespass yet lives guilty in thy blood;    And till thou be restor'd thou art a yeoman.  PLANTAGENET. My father was attached, not attainted;    Condemn'd to die for treason, but no traitor;    And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset,    Were growing time once ripened to my will.    For your partaker Pole, and you yourself,    I'll note you in my book of memory    To scourge you for this apprehension.    Look to it well, and say you are well warn'd.  SOMERSET. Ay, thou shalt find us ready for thee still;    And know us by these colours for thy foes    For these my friends in spite of thee shall wear.  PLANTAGENET. And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose,    As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate,    Will I for ever, and my faction, wear,    Until it wither with me to my grave,    Or flourish to the height of my degree.  SUFFOLK. Go forward, and be chok'd with thy ambition!    And so farewell until I meet thee next. Exit  SOMERSET. Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious    Richard. Exit  PLANTAGENET. How I am brav'd, and must perforce endure    it!  WARWICK. This blot that they object against your house    Shall be wip'd out in the next Parliament,    Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester;    And if thou be not then created York,    I will not live to be accounted Warwick.    Meantime, in signal of my love to thee,    Against proud Somerset and William Pole,    Will I upon thy party wear this rose;    And here I prophesy: this brawl to-day,    Grown to this faction in the Temple Garden,    Shall send between the Red Rose and the White    A thousand souls to death and deadly night.  PLANTAGENET. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you    That you on my behalf would pluck a flower.  VERNON. In your behalf still will I wear the same.  LAWYER. And so will I.  PLANTAGENET. Thanks, gentle sir.    Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say    This quarrel will drink blood another day. Exeunt