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King Henry the Sixth, Part I

 DUKE OF GLOUCESTER	uncle to the King, and Protector. (GLOUCESTER:)
 DUKE OF BEDFORD	uncle to the King, and Regent of France. (BEDFORD:)
 THOMAS BEAUFORT	Duke of Exeter, great-uncle to the King. (EXETER:)
 HENRY BEAUFORT	great-uncle to the King, Bishop of Winchester, and
 	afterwards Cardinal. (BISHOP OF WINCHESTER:)
 JOHN BEAUFORT	Earl, afterwards Duke, of Somerset. (SOMERSET:)
 PLANTAGENET	son of Richard late Earl of Cambridge, (RICHARD
 	PLANTAGENET:)  afterwards Duke of York.
 LORD TALBOT	afterwards Earl of Shrewsbury. (TALBOT:)
 JOHN TALBOT	Lord Talbot's son.
 Mayor of London	(Mayor:)
 WOODVILE	Lieutenant of the Tower.
 VERNON	of the White-Rose or York faction.
 BASSET	of the Red-Rose or Lancaster faction.
 	A Lawyer. (Lawyer:)
 	Mortimer's Keepers. (First Gaoler:)
 CHARLES	Dauphin, and afterwards King, of France.
 REIGNIER	Duke of Anjou, and titular King of Naples.
 	Governor of Paris.
 	Master-Gunner of Orleans, (Master-Gunner:)
 	and his Son. (Boy:)
 	General of the French forces in Bourdeaux. (General:)
 	A French Sergeant. (Sargeant:)
 	A Porter.
 	An old Shepherd, father to Joan la Pucelle. (Shepherd:)
 MARGARET	daughter to Reignier, afterwards married to King Henry.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	commonly called Joan of Arc.
 	Lords, Warders of the Tower, Heralds, Officers,
 	Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants.
 	(First Warder:)
 	(Second Warder:)
 	(First Soldier:)
 	(First Sentinel:)
 	(First Serving-Man:)
 	(Second Serving-Man:)
 	(Third Serving-Man:)
 	Fiends appearing to La Pucelle.
 SCENE	Partly in England, and partly in France.
 SCENE I	Westminster Abbey.
 	[Dead March. Enter the Funeral of KING HENRY the
 	Fifth, attended on by Dukes of BEDFORD, Regent of
 	France; GLOUCESTER, Protector; and EXETER, Earl of
 BEDFORD	Hung be the heavens with black, yield day to night!
 	Comets, importing change of times and states,
 	Brandish your crystal tresses in the sky,
 	And with them scourge the bad revolting stars
 	That have consented unto Henry's death!
 	King Henry the Fifth, too famous to live long!
 	England ne'er lost a king of so much worth.
 GLOUCESTER	England ne'er had a king until his time.
 	Virtue he had, deserving to command:
 	His brandish'd sword did blind men with his beams:
 	His arms spread wider than a dragon's wings;
 	His sparking eyes, replete with wrathful fire,
 	More dazzled and drove back his enemies
 	Than mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces.
 	What should I say? his deeds exceed all speech:
 	He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered.
 EXETER	We mourn in black: why mourn we not in blood?
 	Henry is dead and never shall revive:
 	Upon a wooden coffin we attend,
 	And death's dishonourable victory
 	We with our stately presence glorify,
 	Like captives bound to a triumphant car.
 	What! shall we curse the planets of mishap
 	That plotted thus our glory's overthrow?
 	Or shall we think the subtle-witted French
 	Conjurers and sorcerers, that afraid of him
 	By magic verses have contrived his end?
 OF WINCHESTER	He was a king bless'd of the King of kings.
 	Unto the French the dreadful judgement-day
 	So dreadful will not be as was his sight.
 	The battles of the Lord of hosts he fought:
 	The church's prayers made him so prosperous.
 GLOUCESTER	The church! where is it? Had not churchmen pray'd,
 	His thread of life had not so soon decay'd:
 	None do you like but an effeminate prince,
 	Whom, like a school-boy, you may over-awe.
 OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, whate'er we like, thou art protector
 	And lookest to command the prince and realm.
 	Thy wife is proud; she holdeth thee in awe,
 	More than God or religious churchmen may.
 GLOUCESTER	Name not religion, for thou lovest the flesh,
 	And ne'er throughout the year to church thou go'st
 	Except it be to pray against thy foes.
 BEDFORD	Cease, cease these jars and rest your minds in peace:
 	Let's to the altar: heralds, wait on us:
 	Instead of gold, we'll offer up our arms:
 	Since arms avail not now that Henry's dead.
 	Posterity, await for wretched years,
 	When at their mothers' moist eyes babes shall suck,
 	Our isle be made a nourish of salt tears,
 	And none but women left to wail the dead.
 	Henry the Fifth, thy ghost I invocate:
 	Prosper this realm, keep it from civil broils,
 	Combat with adverse planets in the heavens!
 	A far more glorious star thy soul will make
 	Than Julius Caesar or bright--
 	[Enter a Messenger]
 Messenger	My honourable lords, health to you all!
 	Sad tidings bring I to you out of France,
 	Of loss, of slaughter and discomfiture:
 	Guienne, Champagne, Rheims, Orleans,
 	Paris, Guysors, Poictiers, are all quite lost.
 BEDFORD	What say'st thou, man, before dead Henry's corse?
 	Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns
 	Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.
 GLOUCESTER	Is Paris lost? is Rouen yielded up?
 	If Henry were recall'd to life again,
 	These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.
 EXETER	How were they lost? what treachery was used?
 Messenger	No treachery; but want of men and money.
 	Amongst the soldiers this is muttered,
 	That here you maintain several factions,
 	And whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought,
 	You are disputing of your generals:
 	One would have lingering wars with little cost;
 	Another would fly swift, but wanteth wings;
 	A third thinks, without expense at all,
 	By guileful fair words peace may be obtain'd.
 	Awake, awake, English nobility!
 	Let not sloth dim your horrors new-begot:
 	Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
 	Of England's coat one half is cut away.
 EXETER	Were our tears wanting to this funeral,
 	These tidings would call forth their flowing tides.
 BEDFORD	Me they concern; Regent I am of France.
 	Give me my steeled coat. I'll fight for France.
 	Away with these disgraceful wailing robes!
 	Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes,
 	To weep their intermissive miseries.
 	[Enter to them another Messenger]
 Messenger	Lords, view these letters full of bad mischance.
 	France is revolted from the English quite,
 	Except some petty towns of no import:
 	The Dauphin Charles is crowned king of Rheims;
 	The Bastard of Orleans with him is join'd;
 	Reignier, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part;
 	The Duke of Alencon flieth to his side.
 EXETER	The Dauphin crowned king! all fly to him!
 	O, whither shall we fly from this reproach?
 GLOUCESTER	We will not fly, but to our enemies' throats.
 	Bedford, if thou be slack, I'll fight it out.
 BEDFORD	Gloucester, why doubt'st thou of my forwardness?
 	An army have I muster'd in my thoughts,
 	Wherewith already France is overrun.
 	[Enter another Messenger]
 Messenger	My gracious lords, to add to your laments,
 	Wherewith you now bedew King Henry's hearse,
 	I must inform you of a dismal fight
 	Betwixt the stout Lord Talbot and the French.
 OF WINCHESTER	What! wherein Talbot overcame? is't so?
 Messenger	O, no; wherein Lord Talbot was o'erthrown:
 	The circumstance I'll tell you more at large.
 	The tenth of August last this dreadful lord,
 	Retiring from the siege of Orleans,
 	Having full scarce six thousand in his troop.
 	By three and twenty thousand of the French
 	Was round encompassed and set upon.
 	No leisure had he to enrank his men;
 	He wanted pikes to set before his archers;
 	Instead whereof sharp stakes pluck'd 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 every where, enraged he flew:
 	The French exclaim'd, 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 rush'd into the bowels of the battle.
 	Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up,
 	If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward:
 	He, being in the vaward, placed behind
 	With purpose to relieve and follow them,
 	Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke.
 	Hence grew the general wreck and massacre;
 	Enclosed 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 betray'd.
 Messenger	O no, he lives; but is took prisoner,
 	And Lord Scales with him and Lord Hungerford:
 	Most of the rest slaughter'd 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.
 Messenger	So you had need; for Orleans is 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.
 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.
 GLOUCESTER	I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can,
 	To view the artillery and munition;
 	And then I will proclaim young Henry king.
 EXETER	To Eltham will I, where the young king is,
 	Being ordain'd his special governor,
 	And for his safety there I'll best devise.
 OF 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.
 SCENE II	France. Before Orleans.
 	[Sound a flourish. Enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and
 	REIGNIER, marching with drum 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 Orleans;
 	Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts,
 	Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.
 ALENCON	They want their porridge 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.
 REIGNIER	Let's raise the siege: why live we idly here?
 	Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear:
 	Remaineth none but mad-brain'd 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 fly.
 	[Here alarum; they are beaten back by the English
 	with great loss. Re-enter CHARLES, ALENCON, and REIGNIER]
 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.
 REIGNIER	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.
 ALENCON	Froissart, a countryman of ours, records,
 	England all Olivers and Rowlands 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-brain'd 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.
 REIGNIER	I think, by some odd gimmors or device
 	Their arms are set like clocks, stiff to strike on;
 	Else ne'er could they hold out so as they do.
 	By my consent, we'll even let them alone.
 ALENCON	Be it so.
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Where's the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.
 CHARLES	Bastard of Orleans, thrice welcome to us.
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appall'd:
 	Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence?
 	Be not dismay'd, for succor 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.
 	But first, to try her skill,
 	Reignier, 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.
 REIGNIER	Fair maid, is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats?
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Reignier, is't thou that thinkest to beguile me?
 	Where is the Dauphin? 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.
 REIGNIER	She takes upon her bravely at first dash.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd's daughter,
 	My wit untrain'd 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 display'd my cheeks,
 	God's mother deigned to appear to me
 	And in a vision full of majesty
 	Will'd me to leave my base vocation
 	And free my country from calamity:
 	Her aid she promised and assured success:
 	In complete glory she reveal'd herself;
 	And, whereas I was black and swart before,
 	With those clear rays which she infused on me
 	That beauty am I bless'd with which you see.
 	Ask me what question thou canst possible,
 	And I will answer unpremeditated:
 	My courage try by combat, if thou darest,
 	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 astonish'd me with thy high terms:
 	Only this proof I'll of thy valour make,
 	In single combat thou shalt buckle with me,
 	And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;
 	Otherwise I renounce all confidence.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	I am prepared: here is my keen-edged sword,
 	Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side;
 	The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine's
 	Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.
 CHARLES	Then come, o' God's name; I fear no woman.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	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 LA PUCELLE	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 LA PUCELLE	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.
 REIGNIER	My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.
 ALENCON	Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock;
 	Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech.
 REIGNIER	Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?
 ALENCON	He may mean more than we poor men do know:
 	These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.
 REIGNIER	My lord, where are you? what devise you on?
 	Shall we give over Orleans, or no?
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants!
 	Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard.
 CHARLES	What she says I'll confirm: we'll fight it out.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Assign'd am I to be the English scourge.
 	This night the siege assuredly I'll raise:
 	Expect Saint Martin's summer, halcyon 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 nought.
 	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 bare at once.
 CHARLES	Was Mahomet 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?
 ALENCON	Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.
 REIGNIER	Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours;
 	Drive them from Orleans and be immortalized.
 CHARLES	Presently we'll try: come, let's away about it:
 	No prophet will I trust, if she prove false.
 SCENE III	London. Before the Tower.
 	[Enter GLOUCESTER, with his Serving-men 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?
 	Open the gates; 'tis Gloucester that calls.
 First Warder	[Within]  Who's there that knocks so imperiously?
 First Serving-Man	It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.
 Second Warder	[Within]  Whoe'er he be, you may not be let in.
 First Serving-Man	Villains, answer you so the lord protector?
 First Warder	[Within]  The Lord protect him! so we answer him:
 	We do no otherwise than we are will'd.
 GLOUCESTER	Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine?
 	There's none protector of the realm but I.
 	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, and
 	WOODVILE the Lieutenant speaks within]
 WOODVILE	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.
 WOODVILE	Have patience, noble duke; I may not open;
 	The Cardinal of Winchester forbids:
 	From him I have express commandment
 	That thou nor none of thine shall be let in.
 GLOUCESTER	Faint-hearted Woodvile, 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.
 Serving-Men	Open the gates unto the lord protector,
 	Or we'll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.
 	[Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates BISHOP
 	OF WINCHESTER and his men in tawny coats]
 OF WINCHESTER	How now, ambitious Humphry! what means this?
 GLOUCESTER	Peel'd priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?
 OF WINCHESTER	I do, thou most usurping proditor,
 	And not protector, of the king or realm.
 GLOUCESTER	Stand back, thou manifest conspirator,
 	Thou that contrivedst to murder our dead lord;
 	Thou that givest whores indulgences to sin:
 	I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat,
 	If thou proceed in this thy insolence.
 OF 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 scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth
 	I'll use to carry thee out of this place.
 OF WINCHESTER	Do what thou darest; I beard thee to thy face.
 GLOUCESTER	What! am I dared and bearded to my face?
 	Draw, men, for all this privileged place;
 	Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard,
 	I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly:
 	Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat:
 	In spite of pope or dignities of church,
 	Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down.
 OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the pope.
 GLOUCESTER	Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a rope!
 	Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay?
 	Thee I'll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep's array.
 	Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite!
 	[Here GLOUCESTER's men beat out BISHOP OF
 	WINCHESTER's men, and 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 distrain'd the Tower to his use.
 OF WINCHESTER	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,
 	To crown himself king and suppress the prince.
 GLOUCESTER	I will not answer thee with words, but blows.
 	[Here they 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,
 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.
 GLOUCESTER	Cardinal, I'll be no breaker of the law:
 	But we shall meet, and break our minds at large.
 OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, we will 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.
 	This cardinal's more haughty than the devil.
 GLOUCESTER	Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou mayst.
 OF WINCHESTER	Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head;
 	For I intend to have it ere long.
 	[Exeunt, severally, GLOUCESTER and BISHOP OF
 	WINCHESTER with their Serving-men]
 Mayor	See the coast clear'd, and then we will depart.
 	Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear!
 	I myself fight not once in forty year.
 SCENE IV	Orleans.
 	[Enter, on the walls, a Master Gunner and his Boy]
 Master-Gunner	Sirrah, thou know'st how Orleans is besieged,
 	And how the English have the suburbs won.
 Boy	Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,
 	Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd 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 espials have informed me
 	How the English, in the suburbs close intrench'd,
 	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 watch'd,
 	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;
 	I'll never trouble you, if I may spy them.
 	[Enter, on the turrets, SALISBURY and TALBOT,
 	GLANSDALE, GARGRAVE, and others]
 SALISBURY	Talbot, my life, my joy, again return'd!
 	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
 	Call'd 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 barter'd me:
 	Which I, disdaining, scorn'd; and craved death,
 	Rather than I would be so vile esteem'd.
 	In fine, redeem'd I was as I desired.
 	But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe 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 entertain'd.
 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 digg'd 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 deem'd me not secure;
 	So great fear of my name 'mongst them was 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.
 	[Enter the Boy with a linstock]
 SALISBURY	I grieve to hear what torments you endured,
 	But we will be revenged 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 battery 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. SALISBURY and GARGRAVE fall]
 SALISBURY	O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!
 GARGRAVE	O Lord, have mercy on me, woful man!
 TALBOT	What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us?
 	Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak:
 	How farest 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 woful 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 livest 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 gathered 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 revenged.
 	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 V	The same.
 	[Here an alarum again: and TALBOT pursueth the
 	DAUPHIN, and driveth him: then enter JOAN LA
 	PUCELLE, driving Englishmen before her, and exit
 	after them then re-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.
 	[Re-enter JOAN 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 servest.
 JOAN LA 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]
 JOAN LA 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.
 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 enter'd 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; flourish]
 SCENE VI	The same.
 	[Enter, on the walls, JOAN LA PUCELLE, CHARLES,
 	REIGNIER, ALENCON, and Soldiers]
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Advance our waving colours on the walls;
 	Rescued 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 or Memphis' ever was:
 	In memory of her when she is dead,
 	Her ashes, in an urn more precious
 	Than the rich-jewel'd 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]
 SCENE I	Before Orleans.
 	[Enter a 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.
 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 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 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.
 Sentinels	Arm! arm! the enemy doth make assault!
 	[Cry: 'St. George,' 'A Talbot.']
 	[The French leap over the walls in their shirts.
 	Enter, several ways, the BASTARD OF ORLEANS,
 	ALENCON, and REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready]
 ALENCON	How now, my lords! what, all unready so?
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Unready! ay, and glad we 'scaped 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 arms,
 	Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterprise
 	More venturous or desperate than this.
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	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.
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	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?
 JOAN LA 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 surprised.
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	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?
 JOAN LA 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 dispersed,
 	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.
 SCENE II	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 tonight.
 	And that hereafter ages may behold
 	What ruin happen'd 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 engraved 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,
 	Roused 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 scared 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 unto a peaceful comic sport,
 	When ladies crave to be encounter'd 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 over-ruled:
 	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; it is 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.
 		You perceive my mind?
 Captain	I do, my lord, and mean accordingly.
 SCENE III	Auvergne. The COUNTESS's castle.
 	[Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter]
 OF AUVERGNE	Porter, remember what I gave in charge;
 	And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
 Porter	Madam, I will.
 OF AUVERGNE	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 rumor 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 desired,
 	By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.
 OF AUVERGNE	And he is welcome. What! is this the man?
 Messenger	Madam, it is.
 OF AUVERGNE	                  Is this the scourge of France?
 	Is this the 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.
 OF AUVERGNE	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]
 OF AUVERGNE	If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
 TALBOT	Prisoner! to whom?
 OF AUVERGNE	To me, blood-thirsty lord;
 	And for that cause I trained 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!
 OF AUVERGNE	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.
 OF AUVERGNE	Why, art not thou the man?
 TALBOT	I am indeed.
 OF AUVERGNE	Then have I substance too.
 TALBOT	No, no, I am but shadow of myself:
 	You are deceived, 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.
 OF AUVERGNE	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.
 OF AUVERGNE	Victorious Talbot! pardon my abuse:
 	I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited
 	And more than may be gather'd by thy shape.
 	Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath;
 	For I am sorry that with reverence
 	I did not entertain thee as thou art.
 TALBOT	Be not dismay'd, fair lady; nor misconstrue
 	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.
 OF AUVERGNE	With all my heart, and think me honoured
 	To feast so great a warrior in my house.
 SCENE IV	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 the 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 judgement;
 	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.
 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	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 restored, 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 ripen'd 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	Ah, 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 choked with thy ambition!
 	And so farewell until I meet thee next.
 SOMERSET	Have with thee, Pole. Farewell, ambitious Richard.
 PLANTAGENET	How I am braved and must perforce endure it!
 WARWICK	This blot that they object against your house
 	Shall be wiped 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.
 SCENE V	The Tower of London.
 	[Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair, and Gaolers]
 MORTIMER	Kind keepers of my weak decaying age,
 	Let dying Mortimer here rest himself.
 	Even like a man new haled from the rack,
 	So fare my limbs with long imprisonment.
 	And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death,
 	Nestor-like aged in an age of care,
 	Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer.
 	These eyes, like lamps whose wasting oil is spent,
 	Wax dim, as drawing to their exigent;
 	Weak shoulders, overborne with burthening grief,
 	And pithless arms, like to a wither'd vine
 	That droops his sapless branches to the ground;
 	Yet are these feet, whose strengthless stay is numb,
 	Unable to support this lump of clay,
 	Swift-winged with desire to get a grave,
 	As witting I no other comfort have.
 	But tell me, keeper, will my nephew come?
 First Gaoler	Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come:
 	We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber;
 	And answer was return'd that he will come.
 MORTIMER	Enough: my soul shall then be satisfied.
 	Poor gentleman! his wrong doth equal mine.
 	Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign,
 	Before whose glory I was great in arms,
 	This loathsome sequestration have I had:
 	And even since then hath Richard been obscured,
 	Deprived of honour and inheritance.
 	But now the arbitrator of despairs,
 	Just death, kind umpire of men's miseries,
 	With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence:
 	I would his troubles likewise were expired,
 	That so he might recover what was lost.
 First Gaoler	My lord, your loving nephew now is come.
 MORTIMER	Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?
 PLANTAGENET	Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used,
 	Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes.
 MORTIMER	Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck,
 	And in his bosom spend my latter gasp:
 	O, tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks,
 	That I may kindly give one fainting kiss.
 	And now declare, sweet stem from York's great stock,
 	Why didst thou say, of late thou wert despised?
 PLANTAGENET	First, lean thine aged back against mine arm;
 	And, in that ease, I'll tell thee my disease.
 	This day, in argument upon a case,
 	Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me;
 	Among which terms he used his lavish tongue
 	And did upbraid me with my father's death:
 	Which obloquy set bars before my tongue,
 	Else with the like I had requited him.
 	Therefore, good uncle, for my father's sake,
 	In honour of a true Plantagenet
 	And for alliance sake, declare the cause
 	My father, Earl of Cambridge, lost his head.
 MORTIMER	That cause, fair nephew, that imprison'd me
 	And hath detain'd me all my flowering youth
 	Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,
 	Was cursed instrument of his decease.
 PLANTAGENET	Discover more at large what cause that was,
 	For I am ignorant and cannot guess.
 MORTIMER	I will, if that my fading breath permit
 	And death approach not ere my tale be done.
 	Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king,
 	Deposed his nephew Richard, Edward's son,
 	The first-begotten and the lawful heir,
 	Of Edward king, the third of that descent:
 	During whose reign the Percies of the north,
 	Finding his usurpation most unjust,
 	Endeavor'd my advancement to the throne:
 	The reason moved these warlike lords to this
 	Was, for that--young King Richard thus removed,
 	Leaving no heir begotten of his body--
 	I was the next by birth and parentage;
 	For by my mother I derived am
 	From Lionel Duke of Clarence, the third son
 	To King Edward the Third; whereas he
 	From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree,
 	Being but fourth of that heroic line.
 	But mark: as in this haughty attempt
 	They laboured to plant the rightful heir,
 	I lost my liberty and they their lives.
 	Long after this, when Henry the Fifth,
 	Succeeding his father Bolingbroke, did reign,
 	Thy father, Earl of Cambridge, then derived
 	From famous Edmund Langley, Duke of York,
 	Marrying my sister that thy mother was,
 	Again in pity of my hard distress
 	Levied an army, weening to redeem
 	And have install'd me in the diadem:
 	But, as the rest, so fell that noble earl
 	And was beheaded. Thus the Mortimers,
 	In whom the tide rested, were suppress'd.
 PLANTAGENET	Of which, my lord, your honour is the last.
 MORTIMER	True; and thou seest that I no issue have
 	And that my fainting words do warrant death;
 	Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather:
 	But yet be wary in thy studious care.
 PLANTAGENET	Thy grave admonishments prevail with me:
 	But yet, methinks, my father's execution
 	Was nothing less than bloody tyranny.
 MORTIMER	With silence, nephew, be thou politic:
 	Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster,
 	And like a mountain, not to be removed.
 	But now thy uncle is removing hence:
 	As princes do their courts, when they are cloy'd
 	With long continuance in a settled place.
 PLANTAGENET	O, uncle, would some part of my young years
 	Might but redeem the passage of your age!
 MORTIMER	Thou dost then wrong me, as that slaughterer doth
 	Which giveth many wounds when one will kill.
 	Mourn not, except thou sorrow for my good;
 	Only give order for my funeral:
 	And so farewell, and fair be all thy hopes
 	And prosperous be thy life in peace and war!
 PLANTAGENET	And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul!
 	In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage
 	And like a hermit overpass'd thy days.
 	Well, I will lock his counsel in my breast;
 	And what I do imagine let that rest.
 	Keepers, convey him hence, and I myself
 	Will see his burial better than his life.
 	[Exeunt Gaolers, bearing out the body of MORTIMER]
 	Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,
 	Choked with ambition of the meaner sort:
 	And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries,
 	Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house:
 	I doubt not but with honour to redress;
 	And therefore haste I to the parliament,
 	Either to be restored to my blood,
 	Or make my ill the advantage of my good.
 SCENE I	London. The Parliament-house.
 	GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; BISHOP OF
 	WINCHESTER snatches it, and tears it]
 OF WINCHESTER	Comest thou with deep premeditated lines,
 	With written pamphlets studiously devised,
 	Humphrey of Gloucester? If thou canst accuse,
 	Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,
 	Do it without invention, suddenly;
 	As I with sudden and extemporal speech
 	Purpose to answer what thou canst object.
 GLOUCESTER	Presumptuous priest! this place commands my patience,
 	Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me.
 	Think not, although in writing I preferr'd
 	The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes,
 	That therefore I have forged, or am not able
 	Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen:
 	No, prelate; such is thy audacious wickedness,
 	Thy lewd, pestiferous and dissentious pranks,
 	As very infants prattle of thy pride.
 	Thou art a most pernicious usurer,
 	Forward by nature, enemy to peace;
 	Lascivious, wanton, more than well beseems
 	A man of thy profession and degree;
 	And for thy treachery, what's more manifest?
 	In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life,
 	As well at London bridge as at the Tower.
 	Beside, I fear me, if thy thoughts were sifted,
 	The king, thy sovereign, is not quite exempt
 	From envious malice of thy swelling heart.
 OF WINCHESTER	Gloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafe
 	To give me hearing what I shall reply.
 	If I were covetous, ambitious or perverse,
 	As he will have me, how am I so poor?
 	Or how haps it I seek not to advance
 	Or raise myself, but keep my wonted calling?
 	And for dissension, who preferreth peace
 	More than I do?--except I be provoked.
 	No, my good lords, it is not that offends;
 	It is not that that hath incensed the duke:
 	It is, because no one should sway but he;
 	No one but he should be about the king;
 	And that engenders thunder in his breast
 	And makes him roar these accusations forth.
 	But he shall know I am as good--
 	Thou bastard of my grandfather!
 OF WINCHESTER	Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray,
 	But one imperious in another's throne?
 GLOUCESTER	Am I not protector, saucy priest?
 OF WINCHESTER	And am not I a prelate of the church?
 GLOUCESTER	Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps
 	And useth it to patronage his theft.
 OF WINCHESTER	Unreverent Gloster!
 GLOUCESTER	Thou art reverent
 	Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.
 OF WINCHESTER	Rome shall remedy this.
 WARWICK	Roam thither, then.
 SOMERSET	My lord, it were your duty to forbear.
 WARWICK	Ay, see the bishop be not overborne.
 SOMERSET	Methinks my lord should be religious
 	And know the office that belongs to such.
 WARWICK	Methinks his lordship should be humbler;
 	it fitteth not a prelate so to plead.
 SOMERSET	Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so near.
 WARWICK	State holy or unhallow'd, what of that?
 	Is not his grace protector to the king?
 PLANTAGENET	[Aside]  Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue,
 	Lest it be said 'Speak, sirrah, when you should;
 	Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?'
 	Else would I have a fling at Winchester.
 KING HENRY VI	Uncles of Gloucester and of Winchester,
 	The special watchmen of our English weal,
 	I would prevail, if prayers might prevail,
 	To join your hearts in love and amity.
 	O, what a scandal is it to our crown,
 	That two such noble peers as ye should jar!
 	Believe me, lords, my tender years can tell
 	Civil dissension is a viperous worm
 	That gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.
 	[A noise within, 'Down with the tawny-coats!']
 	What tumult's this?
 WARWICK	An uproar, I dare warrant,
 	Begun through malice of the bishop's men.
 	[A noise again, 'Stones! stones!' Enter Mayor]
 Mayor	O, my good lords, and virtuous Henry,
 	Pity the city of London, pity us!
 	The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men,
 	Forbidden late to carry any weapon,
 	Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones
 	And banding themselves in contrary parts
 	Do pelt so fast at one another's pate
 	That many have their giddy brains knock'd out:
 	Our windows are broke down in every street
 	And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops.
 	[Enter Serving-men, in skirmish, with bloody pates]
 KING HENRY VI	We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,
 	To hold your slaughtering hands and keep the peace.
 	Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.
 First Serving-man	Nay, if we be forbidden stones,
 	We'll fall to it with our teeth.
 Second Serving-man	Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.
 	[Skirmish again]
 GLOUCESTER	You of my household, leave this peevish broil
 	And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.
 Third Serving-man	My lord, we know your grace to be a man
 	Just and upright; and, for your royal birth,
 	Inferior to none but to his majesty:
 	And ere that we will suffer such a prince,
 	So kind a father of the commonweal,
 	To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate,
 	We and our wives and children all will fight
 	And have our bodies slaughtered by thy foes.
 First Serving-man	Ay, and the very parings of our nails
 	Shall pitch a field when we are dead.
 	[Begin again]
 GLOUCESTER	Stay, stay, I say!
 	And if you love me, as you say you do,
 	Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.
 KING HENRY VI	O, how this discord doth afflict my soul!
 	Can you, my Lord of Winchester, behold
 	My sighs and tears and will not once relent?
 	Who should be pitiful, if you be not?
 	Or who should study to prefer a peace.
 	If holy churchmen take delight in broils?
 WARWICK	Yield, my lord protector; yield, Winchester;
 	Except you mean with obstinate repulse
 	To slay your sovereign and destroy the realm.
 	You see what mischief and what murder too
 	Hath been enacted through your enmity;
 	Then be at peace except ye thirst for blood.
 OF WINCHESTER	He shall submit, or I will never yield.
 GLOUCESTER	Compassion on the king commands me stoop;
 	Or I would see his heart out, ere the priest
 	Should ever get that privilege of me.
 WARWICK	Behold, my Lord of Winchester, the duke
 	Hath banish'd moody discontented fury,
 	As by his smoothed brows it doth appear:
 	Why look you still so stern and tragical?
 GLOUCESTER	Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.
 KING HENRY VI	Fie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preach
 	That malice was a great and grievous sin;
 	And will not you maintain the thing you teach,
 	But prove a chief offender in the same?
 WARWICK	Sweet king! the bishop hath a kindly gird.
 	For shame, my lord of Winchester, relent!
 	What, shall a child instruct you what to do?
 OF WINCHESTER	Well, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee;
 	Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.
 GLOUCESTER	[Aside]  Ay, but, I fear me, with a hollow heart.--
 	See here, my friends and loving countrymen,
 	This token serveth for a flag of truce
 	Betwixt ourselves and all our followers:
 	So help me God, as I dissemble not!
 OF WINCHESTER	[Aside]  So help me God, as I intend it not!
 KING HENRY VI	O, loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester,
 	How joyful am I made by this contract!
 	Away, my masters! trouble us no more;
 	But join in friendship, as your lords have done.
 First Serving-man	Content: I'll to the surgeon's.
 Second Serving-man	And so will I.
 Third Serving-man	And I will see what physic the tavern affords.
 	[Exeunt Serving-men, Mayor, &c]
 WARWICK	Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign,
 	Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
 	We do exhibit to your majesty.
 GLOUCESTER	Well urged, my Lord of Warwick: or sweet prince,
 	And if your grace mark every circumstance,
 	You have great reason to do Richard right;
 	Especially for those occasions
 	At Eltham Place I told your majesty.
 KING HENRY VI	And those occasions, uncle, were of force:
 	Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is
 	That Richard be restored to his blood.
 WARWICK	Let Richard be restored to his blood;
 	So shall his father's wrongs be recompensed.
 OF WINCHESTER	As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.
 KING HENRY VI	If Richard will be true, not that alone
 	But all the whole inheritance I give
 	That doth belong unto the house of York,
 	From whence you spring by lineal descent.
 PLANTAGENET	Thy humble servant vows obedience
 	And humble service till the point of death.
 KING HENRY VI	Stoop then and set your knee against my foot;
 	And, in reguerdon of that duty done,
 	I gird thee with the valiant sword of York:
 	Rise Richard, like a true Plantagenet,
 	And rise created princely Duke of York.
 PLANTAGENET	And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall!
 	And as my duty springs, so perish they
 	That grudge one thought against your majesty!
 ALL	Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke of York!
 SOMERSET	[Aside]  Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York!
 GLOUCESTER	Now will it best avail your majesty
 	To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France:
 	The presence of a king engenders love
 	Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends,
 	As it disanimates his enemies.
 KING HENRY VI	When Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes;
 	For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
 GLOUCESTER	Your ships already are in readiness.
 	[Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but EXETER]
 EXETER	Ay, we may march in England or in France,
 	Not seeing what is likely to ensue.
 	This late dissension grown betwixt the peers
 	Burns under feigned ashes of forged love
 	And will at last break out into a flame:
 	As fester'd members rot but by degree,
 	Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away,
 	So will this base and envious discord breed.
 	And now I fear that fatal prophecy
 	Which in the time of Henry named the Fifth
 	Was in the mouth of every sucking babe;
 	That Henry born at Monmouth should win all
 	And Henry born at Windsor lose all:
 	Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish
 	His days may finish ere that hapless time.
 SCENE II	France. Before Rouen.
 	[Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE disguised, with four Soldiers
 	with sacks upon their backs]
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	These are the city gates, the gates of Rouen,
 	Through which our policy must make a breach:
 	Take heed, be wary how you place your words;
 	Talk like the vulgar sort of market men
 	That come to gather money for their corn.
 	If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,
 	And that we find the slothful watch but weak,
 	I'll by a sign give notice to our friends,
 	That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.
 First Soldier	Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,
 	And we be lords and rulers over Rouen;
 	Therefore we'll knock.
 Watch	[Within]  Qui est la?
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Paysans, pauvres gens de France;
 	Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.
 Watch	Enter, go in; the market bell is rung.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.
 	REIGNIER, and forces]
 CHARLES	Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem!
 	And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants;
 	Now she is there, how will she specify
 	Where is the best and safest passage in?
 REIGNIER	By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower;
 	Which, once discern'd, shows that her meaning is,
 	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!
 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.
 	[An alarum: excursions. BEDFORD, brought in sick
 	in a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without:
 	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?
 	All the Talbots in the world, to save my life!
 Captain	Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!
 	[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.
 SCENE III	The plains near Rouen.
 	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.
 SCENE IV	Paris. The palace.
 	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.
 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
 	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.
 SCENE I	Paris. A hall of state.
 	TALBOT, EXETER, the Governor, of Paris, and others]
 GLOUCESTER	Lord bishop, set the crown upon his head.
 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.
 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 VI	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.
 	And now, my lord protector, view the letter
 	Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.
 GLOUCESTER	What means his grace, that he hath changed 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?
 	'I have, upon especial cause,
 	Moved 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 VI	What! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?
 GLOUCESTER	He doth, my lord, and is become your foe.
 KING HENRY VI	Is that the worst this letter doth contain?
 GLOUCESTER	It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.
 KING HENRY VI	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 VI	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.
 	[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 VI	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 VI	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
 	Argued 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 provoked 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 VI	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 ashamed
 	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 VI	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 provoked
 	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 forego
 	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
 	and 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 imagined or supposed.
 	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 rain, there begins confusion.
 SCENE II	Before Bourdeaux.
 	[Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum]
 TALBOT	Go to the gates of Bourdeaux, trumpeter:
 	Summon their general unto the wall.
 	[Trumpet sounds. Enter General and others, aloft]
 	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 sovereign yours,
 	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	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 wither'd, 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.
 	[Exeunt General, &c]
 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,
 	Mazed 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!
 SCENE III	Plains in Gascony.
 	[Enter a Messenger that meets YORK. Enter YORK
 	with trumpet and many Soldiers]
 YORK	Are not the speedy scouts return'd again,
 	That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?
 Messenger	They are return'd, my lord, and give it out
 	That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power,
 	To fight with Talbot: as he march'd along,
 	By your espials were discovered
 	Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led,
 	Which join'd with him and made their march for Bourdeaux.
 YORK	A plague upon that villain Somerset,
 	That thus delays my promised supply
 	Of horsemen, that were levied for this siege!
 	Renowned Talbot doth expect my aid,
 	And I am lowted by a traitor villain
 	And cannot help the noble chevalier:
 	God comfort him in this necessity!
 	If he miscarry, farewell wars in France.
 	[Enter Sir William LUCY]
 LUCY	Thou princely leader of our English strength,
 	Never so needful on the earth of France,
 	Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot,
 	Who now is girdled with a waist of iron
 	And hemm'd about with grim destruction:
 	To Bourdeaux, warlike duke! to Bourdeaux, York!
 	Else, farewell Talbot, France, and England's honour.
 YORK	O God, that Somerset, who in proud heart
 	Doth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place!
 	So should we save a valiant gentleman
 	By forfeiting a traitor and a coward.
 	Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep,
 	That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.
 LUCY	O, send some succor to the distress'd lord!
 YORK	He dies, we lose; I break my warlike word;
 	We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get;
 	All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.
 LUCY	Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul;
 	And on his son young John, who two hours since
 	I met in travel toward his warlike father!
 	This seven years did not Talbot see his son;
 	And now they meet where both their lives are done.
 YORK	Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have
 	To bid his young son welcome to his grave?
 	Away! vexation almost stops my breath,
 	That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death.
 	Lucy, farewell; no more my fortune can,
 	But curse the cause I cannot aid the man.
 	Maine, Blois, Poictiers, and Tours, are won away,
 	'Long all of Somerset and his delay.
 	[Exit, with his soldiers]
 LUCY	Thus, while the vulture of sedition
 	Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders,
 	Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss
 	The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror,
 	That ever living man of memory,
 	Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross,
 	Lives, honours, lands and all hurry to loss.
 SCENE IV	Other plains in Gascony.
 	[Enter SOMERSET, with his army; a Captain of
 	TALBOT's with him]
 SOMERSET	It is too late; I cannot send them now:
 	This expedition was by York and Talbot
 	Too rashly plotted: all our general force
 	Might with a sally of the very town
 	Be buckled with: the over-daring Talbot
 	Hath sullied all his gloss of former honour
 	By this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:
 	York set him on to fight and die in shame,
 	That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.
 Captain	Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me
 	Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid.
 	[Enter Sir William LUCY]
 SOMERSET	How now, Sir William! whither were you sent?
 LUCY	Whither, my lord? from bought and sold Lord Talbot;
 	Who, ring'd about with bold adversity,
 	Cries out for noble York and Somerset,
 	To beat assailing death from his weak legions:
 	And whiles the honourable captain there
 	Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,
 	And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue,
 	You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honour,
 	Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.
 	Let not your private discord keep away
 	The levied succors that should lend him aid,
 	While he, renowned noble gentleman,
 	Yields up his life unto a world of odds:
 	Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,
 	Alencon, Reignier, compass him about,
 	And Talbot perisheth by your default.
 SOMERSET	York set him on; York should have sent him aid.
 LUCY	And York as fast upon your grace exclaims;
 	Swearing that you withhold his levied host,
 	Collected for this expedition.
 SOMERSET	York lies; he might have sent and had the horse;
 	I owe him little duty, and less love;
 	And take foul scorn to fawn on him by sending.
 LUCY	The fraud of England, not the force of France,
 	Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot:
 	Never to England shall he bear his life;
 	But dies, betray'd to fortune by your strife.
 SOMERSET	Come, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight:
 	Within six hours they will be at his aid.
 LUCY	Too late comes rescue: he is ta'en or slain;
 	For fly he could not, if he would have fled;
 	And fly would Talbot never, though he might.
 SOMERSET	If he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu!
 LUCY	His fame lives in the world, his shame in you.
 SCENE V	The English camp near Bourdeaux.
 	[Enter TALBOT and JOHN his son]
 TALBOT	O young John Talbot! I did send for thee
 	To tutor thee in stratagems of war,
 	That Talbot's name might be in thee revived
 	When sapless age and weak unable limbs
 	Should bring thy father to his drooping chair.
 	But, O malignant and ill-boding stars!
 	Now thou art come unto a feast of death,
 	A terrible and unavoided danger:
 	Therefore, dear boy, mount on my swiftest horse;
 	And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape
 	By sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone.
 JOHN TALBOT	Is my name Talbot? and am I your son?
 	And shall I fly? O if you love my mother,
 	Dishonour not her honourable name,
 	To make a bastard and a slave of me!
 	The world will say, he is not Talbot's blood,
 	That basely fled when noble Talbot stood.
 TALBOT	Fly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.
 JOHN TALBOT	He that flies so will ne'er return again.
 TALBOT	If we both stay, we both are sure to die.
 JOHN TALBOT	Then let me stay; and, father, do you fly:
 	Your loss is great, so your regard should be;
 	My worth unknown, no loss is known in me.
 	Upon my death the French can little boast;
 	In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost.
 	Flight cannot stain the honour you have won;
 	But mine it will, that no exploit have done:
 	You fled for vantage, everyone will swear;
 	But, if I bow, they'll say it was for fear.
 	There is no hope that ever I will stay,
 	If the first hour I shrink and run away.
 	Here on my knee I beg mortality,
 	Rather than life preserved with infamy.
 TALBOT	Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?
 JOHN TALBOT	Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.
 TALBOT	Upon my blessing, I command thee go.
 JOHN TALBOT	To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.
 TALBOT	Part of thy father may be saved in thee.
 JOHN TALBOT	No part of him but will be shame in me.
 TALBOT	Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.
 JOHN TALBOT	Yes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it?
 TALBOT	Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.
 JOHN TALBOT	You cannot witness for me, being slain.
 	If death be so apparent, then both fly.
 TALBOT	And leave my followers here to fight and die?
 	My age was never tainted with such shame.
 JOHN TALBOT	And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?
 	No more can I be sever'd from your side,
 	Than can yourself yourself in twain divide:
 	Stay, go, do what you will, the like do I;
 	For live I will not, if my father die.
 TALBOT	Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son,
 	Born to eclipse thy life this afternoon.
 	Come, side by side together live and die.
 	And soul with soul from France to heaven fly.
 SCENE VI	A field of battle.
 	[Alarum: excursions, wherein JOHN TALBOT is
 	hemmed about, and TALBOT rescues him]
 TALBOT	Saint George and victory! fight, soldiers, fight.
 	The regent hath with Talbot broke his word
 	And left us to the rage of France his sword.
 	Where is John Talbot? Pause, and take thy breath;
 	I gave thee life and rescued thee from death.
 JOHN TALBOT	O, twice my father, twice am I thy son!
 	The life thou gavest me first was lost and done,
 	Till with thy warlike sword, despite of late,
 	To my determined time thou gavest new date.
 TALBOT	When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire,
 	It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire
 	Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age,
 	Quicken'd with youthful spleen and warlike rage,
 	Beat down Alencon, Orleans, Burgundy,
 	And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee.
 	The ireful bastard Orleans, that drew blood
 	From thee, my boy, and had the maidenhood
 	Of thy first fight, I soon encountered,
 	And interchanging blows I quickly shed
 	Some of his bastard blood; and in disgrace
 	Bespoke him thus; 'Contaminated, base
 	And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
 	Mean and right poor, for that pure blood of mine
 	Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:'
 	Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy,
 	Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care,
 	Art thou not weary, John? how dost thou fare?
 	Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
 	Now thou art seal'd the son of chivalry?
 	Fly, to revenge my death when I am dead:
 	The help of one stands me in little stead.
 	O, too much folly is it, well I wot,
 	To hazard all our lives in one small boat!
 	If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage,
 	To-morrow I shall die with mickle age:
 	By me they nothing gain an if I stay;
 	'Tis but the shortening of my life one day:
 	In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
 	My death's revenge, thy youth, and England's fame:
 	All these and more we hazard by thy stay;
 	All these are saved if thou wilt fly away.
 JOHN TALBOT	The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart;
 	These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart:
 	On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
 	To save a paltry life and slay bright fame,
 	Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly,
 	The coward horse that bears me fail and die!
 	And like me to the peasant boys of France,
 	To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance!
 	Surely, by all the glory you have won,
 	An if I fly, I am not Talbot's son:
 	Then talk no more of flight, it is no boot;
 	If son to Talbot, die at Talbot's foot.
 TALBOT	Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete,
 	Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet:
 	If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
 	And, commendable proved, let's die in pride.
 SCENE VII	Another part of the field.
 	[Alarum: excursions. Enter TALBOT led by a Servant]
 TALBOT	Where is my other life? mine own is gone;
 	O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?
 	Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity,
 	Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee:
 	When he perceived me shrink and on my knee,
 	His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
 	And, like a hungry lion, did commence
 	Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience;
 	But when my angry guardant stood alone,
 	Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none,
 	Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart
 	Suddenly made him from my side to start
 	Into the clustering battle of the French;
 	And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
 	His over-mounting spirit, and there died,
 	My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
 Servant	O, my dear lord, lo, where your son is borne!
 	[Enter Soldiers, with the body of JOHN TALBOT]
 TALBOT	Thou antic death, which laugh'st us here to scorn,
 	Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
 	Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
 	Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky,
 	In thy despite shall 'scape mortality.
 	O, thou, whose wounds become hard-favour'd death,
 	Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath!
 	Brave death by speaking, whether he will or no;
 	Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe.
 	Poor boy! he smiles, methinks, as who should say,
 	Had death been French, then death had died to-day.
 	Come, come and lay him in his father's arms:
 	My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
 	Soldiers, adieu! I have what I would have,
 	Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave.
 CHARLES	Had York and Somerset brought rescue in,
 	We should have found a bloody day of this.
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	How the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood,
 	Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said:
 	'Thou maiden youth, be vanquish'd by a maid:'
 	But, with a proud majestical high scorn,
 	He answer'd thus: 'Young Talbot was not born
 	To be the pillage of a giglot wench:'
 	So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
 	He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
 BURGUNDY	Doubtless he would have made a noble knight;
 	See, where he lies inhearsed in the arms
 	Of the most bloody nurser of his harms!
 BASTARD OF ORLEANS	Hew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder
 	Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.
 CHARLES	O, no, forbear! for that which we have fled
 	During the life, let us not wrong it dead.
 	[Enter Sir William LUCY, attended; Herald of the
 	French preceding]
 LUCY	Herald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,
 	To know who hath obtained the glory of the day.
 CHARLES	On what submissive message art thou sent?
 LUCY	Submission, Dauphin! 'tis a mere French word;
 	We English warriors wot not what it means.
 	I come to know what prisoners thou hast ta'en
 	And to survey the bodies of the dead.
 CHARLES	For prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is.
 	But tell me whom thou seek'st.
 LUCY	But where's the great Alcides of the field,
 	Valiant Lord Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury,
 	Created, for his rare success in arms,
 	Great Earl of Washford, Waterford and Valence;
 	Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield,
 	Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdun of Alton,
 	Lord Cromwell of Wingfield, Lord Furnival of Sheffield,
 	The thrice-victorious Lord of Falconbridge;
 	Knight of the noble order of Saint George,
 	Worthy Saint Michael and the Golden Fleece;
 	Great marshal to Henry the Sixth
 	Of all his wars within the realm of France?
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Here is a silly stately style indeed!
 	The Turk, that two and fifty kingdoms hath,
 	Writes not so tedious a style as this.
 	Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles
 	Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.
 LUCY	Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen's only scourge,
 	Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?
 	O, were mine eyeballs into bullets turn'd,
 	That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!
 	O, that I could but call these dead to life!
 	It were enough to fright the realm of France:
 	Were but his picture left amongst you here,
 	It would amaze the proudest of you all.
 	Give me their bodies, that I may bear them hence
 	And give them burial as beseems their worth.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
 	He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit.
 	For God's sake let him have 'em; to keep them here,
 	They would but stink, and putrefy the air.
 CHARLES	Go, take their bodies hence.
 LUCY	I'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall be rear'd
 	A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
 CHARLES	So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou wilt.
 	And now to Paris, in this conquering vein:
 	All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain.
 SCENE I	London. The palace.
 KING HENRY VI	Have you perused the letters from the pope,
 	The emperor and the Earl of Armagnac?
 GLOUCESTER	I have, my lord: and their intent is this:
 	They humbly sue unto your excellence
 	To have a godly peace concluded of
 	Between the realms of England and of France.
 KING HENRY VI	How doth your grace affect their motion?
 GLOUCESTER	Well, my good lord; and as the only means
 	To stop effusion of our Christian blood
 	And 'stablish quietness on every side.
 KING HENRY VI	Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought
 	It was both impious and unnatural
 	That such immanity and bloody strife
 	Should reign among professors of one faith.
 GLOUCESTER	Beside, my lord, the sooner to effect
 	And surer bind this knot of amity,
 	The Earl of Armagnac, near knit to Charles,
 	A man of great authority in France,
 	Proffers his only daughter to your grace
 	In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.
 KING HENRY VI	Marriage, uncle! alas, my years are young!
 	And fitter is my study and my books
 	Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
 	Yet call the ambassador; and, as you please,
 	So let them have their answers every one:
 	I shall be well content with any choice
 	Tends to God's glory and my country's weal.
 	[Enter CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER in Cardinal's habit,
 	a Legate and two Ambassadors]
 EXETER	What! is my Lord of Winchester install'd,
 	And call'd unto a cardinal's degree?
 	Then I perceive that will be verified
 	Henry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,
 	'If once he come to be a cardinal,
 	He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.'
 KING HENRY VI	My lords ambassadors, your several suits
 	Have been consider'd and debated on.
 	And therefore are we certainly resolved
 	To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
 	Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean
 	Shall be transported presently to France.
 GLOUCESTER	And for the proffer of my lord your master,
 	I have inform'd his highness so at large
 	As liking of the lady's virtuous gifts,
 	Her beauty and the value of her dower,
 	He doth intend she shall be England's queen.
 KING HENRY VI	In argument and proof of which contract,
 	Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.
 	And so, my lord protector, see them guarded
 	And safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd
 	Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
 	[Exeunt all but CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER and Legate]
 OF WINCHESTER	Stay, my lord legate: you shall first receive
 	The sum of money which I promised
 	Should be deliver'd to his holiness
 	For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
 Legate	I will attend upon your lordship's leisure.
 OF WINCHESTER	[Aside]  Now Winchester will not submit, I trow,
 	Or be inferior to the proudest peer.
 	Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive
 	That, neither in birth or for authority,
 	The bishop will be overborne by thee:
 	I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
 	Or sack this country with a mutiny.
 SCENE II	France. Plains in Anjou.
 CHARLES	These news, my lord, may cheer our drooping spirits:
 	'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt
 	And turn again unto the warlike French.
 ALENCON	Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France,
 	And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Peace be amongst them, if they turn to us;
 	Else, ruin combat with their palaces!
 	[Enter Scout]
 Scout	Success unto our valiant general,
 	And happiness to his accomplices!
 CHARLES	What tidings send our scouts? I prithee, speak.
 Scout	The English army, that divided was
 	Into two parties, is now conjoined in one,
 	And means to give you battle presently.
 CHARLES	Somewhat too sudden, sirs, the warning is;
 	But we will presently provide for them.
 BURGUNDY	I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there:
 	Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Of all base passions, fear is most accursed.
 	Command the conquest, Charles, it shall be thine,
 	Let Henry fret and all the world repine.
 CHARLES	Then on, my lords; and France be fortunate!
 SCENE III	Before Angiers.
 	[Alarum. Excursions. Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE]
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	The regent conquers, and the Frenchmen fly.
 	Now help, ye charming spells and periapts;
 	And ye choice spirits that admonish me
 	And give me signs of future accidents.
 	You speedy helpers, that are substitutes
 	Under the lordly monarch of the north,
 	Appear and aid me in this enterprise.
 	[Enter Fiends]
 	This speedy and quick appearance argues proof
 	Of your accustom'd diligence to me.
 	Now, ye familiar spirits, that are cull'd
 	Out of the powerful regions under earth,
 	Help me this once, that France may get the field.
 	[They walk, and speak not]
 	O, hold me not with silence over-long!
 	Where I was wont to feed you with my blood,
 	I'll lop a member off and give it you
 	In earnest of further benefit,
 	So you do condescend to help me now.
 	[They hang their heads]
 	No hope to have redress? My body shall
 	Pay recompense, if you will grant my suit.
 	[They shake their heads]
 	Cannot my body nor blood-sacrifice
 	Entreat you to your wonted furtherance?
 	Then take my soul, my body, soul and all,
 	Before that England give the French the foil.
 	[They depart]
 	See, they forsake me! Now the time is come
 	That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest
 	And let her head fall into England's lap.
 	My ancient incantations are too weak,
 	And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
 	Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust.
 	[Excursions. Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE fighting hand
 	to hand with YORK	JOAN LA PUCELLE is taken. The
 	French fly]
 YORK	Damsel of France, I think I have you fast:
 	Unchain your spirits now with spelling charms
 	And try if they can gain your liberty.
 	A goodly prize, fit for the devil's grace!
 	See, how the ugly wench doth bend her brows,
 	As if with Circe she would change my shape!
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be.
 YORK	O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man;
 	No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee!
 	And may ye both be suddenly surprised
 	By bloody hands, in sleeping on your beds!
 YORK	Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue!
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	I prithee, give me leave to curse awhile.
 YORK	Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.
 	[Alarum. Enter SUFFOLK with MARGARET in his hand]
 SUFFOLK	Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
 	[Gazes on her]
 	O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly!
 	For I will touch thee but with reverent hands;
 	I kiss these fingers for eternal peace,
 	And lay them gently on thy tender side.
 	Who art thou? say, that I may honour thee.
 MARGARET	Margaret my name, and daughter to a king,
 	The King of Naples, whosoe'er thou art.
 SUFFOLK	An earl I am, and Suffolk am I call'd.
 	Be not offended, nature's miracle,
 	Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me:
 	So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
 	Keeping them prisoner underneath her wings.
 	Yet, if this servile usage once offend.
 	Go, and be free again, as Suffolk's friend.
 	[She is going]
 	O, stay! I have no power to let her pass;
 	My hand would free her, but my heart says no
 	As plays the sun upon the glassy streams,
 	Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
 	So seems this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes.
 	Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak:
 	I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind.
 	Fie, de la Pole! disable not thyself;
 	Hast not a tongue? is she not here?
 	Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
 	Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such,
 	Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough.
 MARGARET	Say, Earl of Suffolk--if thy name be so--
 	What ransom must I pay before I pass?
 	For I perceive I am thy prisoner.
 SUFFOLK	How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit,
 	Before thou make a trial of her love?
 MARGARET	Why speak'st thou not? what ransom must I pay?
 SUFFOLK	She's beautiful, and therefore to be woo'd;
 	She is a woman, therefore to be won.
 MARGARET	Wilt thou accept of ransom? yea, or no.
 SUFFOLK	Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife;
 	Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
 MARGARET	I were best to leave him, for he will not hear.
 SUFFOLK	There all is marr'd; there lies a cooling card.
 MARGARET	He talks at random; sure, the man is mad.
 SUFFOLK	And yet a dispensation may be had.
 MARGARET	And yet I would that you would answer me.
 SUFFOLK	I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom?
 	Why, for my king: tush, that's a wooden thing!
 MARGARET	He talks of wood: it is some carpenter.
 SUFFOLK	Yet so my fancy may be satisfied,
 	And peace established between these realms
 	But there remains a scruple in that too;
 	For though her father be the King of Naples,
 	Duke of Anjou and Maine, yet is he poor,
 	And our nobility will scorn the match.
 MARGARET	Hear ye, captain, are you not at leisure?
 SUFFOLK	It shall be so, disdain they ne'er so much.
 	Henry is youthful and will quickly yield.
 	Madam, I have a secret to reveal.
 MARGARET	What though I be enthrall'd? he seems a knight,
 	And will not any way dishonour me.
 SUFFOLK	Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
 MARGARET	Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French;
 	And then I need not crave his courtesy.
 SUFFOLK	Sweet madam, give me a hearing in a cause--
 MARGARET	Tush, women have been captivate ere now.
 SUFFOLK	Lady, wherefore talk you so?
 MARGARET	I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo.
 SUFFOLK	Say, gentle princess, would you not suppose
 	Your bondage happy, to be made a queen?
 MARGARET	To be a queen in bondage is more vile
 	Than is a slave in base servility;
 	For princes should be free.
 SUFFOLK	And so shall you,
 	If happy England's royal king be free.
 MARGARET	Why, what concerns his freedom unto me?
 SUFFOLK	I'll undertake to make thee Henry's queen,
 	To put a golden sceptre in thy hand
 	And set a precious crown upon thy head,
 	If thou wilt condescend to be my--
 SUFFOLK	His love.
 MARGARET	I am unworthy to be Henry's wife.
 SUFFOLK	No, gentle madam; I unworthy am
 	To woo so fair a dame to be his wife,
 	And have no portion in the choice myself.
 	How say you, madam, are ye so content?
 MARGARET	An if my father please, I am content.
 SUFFOLK	Then call our captains and our colours forth.
 	And, madam, at your father's castle walls
 	We'll crave a parley, to confer with him.
 	[A parley sounded. Enter REIGNIER on the walls]
 	See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner!
 REIGNIER	To whom?
 SUFFOLK	       To me.
 REIGNIER	                  Suffolk, what remedy?
 	I am a soldier, and unapt to weep,
 	Or to exclaim on fortune's fickleness.
 SUFFOLK	Yes, there is remedy enough, my lord:
 	Consent, and for thy honour give consent,
 	Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king;
 	Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto;
 	And this her easy-held imprisonment
 	Hath gained thy daughter princely liberty.
 REIGNIER	Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
 SUFFOLK	Fair Margaret knows
 	That Suffolk doth not flatter, face, or feign.
 REIGNIER	Upon thy princely warrant, I descend
 	To give thee answer of thy just demand.
 	[Exit from the walls]
 SUFFOLK	And here I will expect thy coming.
 	[Trumpets sound. Enter REIGNIER, below]
 REIGNIER	Welcome, brave earl, into our territories:
 	Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
 SUFFOLK	Thanks, Reignier, happy for so sweet a child,
 	Fit to be made companion with a king:
 	What answer makes your grace unto my suit?
 REIGNIER	Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth
 	To be the princely bride of such a lord;
 	Upon condition I may quietly
 	Enjoy mine own, the country Maine and Anjou,
 	Free from oppression or the stroke of war,
 	My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.
 SUFFOLK	That is her ransom; I deliver her;
 	And those two counties I will undertake
 	Your grace shall well and quietly enjoy.
 REIGNIER	And I again, in Henry's royal name,
 	As deputy unto that gracious king,
 	Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.
 SUFFOLK	Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
 	Because this is in traffic of a king.
 	And yet, methinks, I could be well content
 	To be mine own attorney in this case.
 	I'll over then to England with this news,
 	And make this marriage to be solemnized.
 	So farewell, Reignier: set this diamond safe
 	In golden palaces, as it becomes.
 REIGNIER	I do embrace thee, as I would embrace
 	The Christian prince, King Henry, were he here.
 MARGARET	Farewell, my lord: good wishes, praise and prayers
 	Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret.
 SUFFOLK	Farewell, sweet madam: but hark you, Margaret;
 	No princely commendations to my king?
 MARGARET	Such commendations as becomes a maid,
 	A virgin and his servant, say to him.
 SUFFOLK	Words sweetly placed and modestly directed.
 	But madam, I must trouble you again;
 	No loving token to his majesty?
 MARGARET	Yes, my good lord, a pure unspotted heart,
 	Never yet taint with love, I send the king.
 SUFFOLK	And this withal.
 	[Kisses her]
 MARGARET	That for thyself: I will not so presume
 	To send such peevish tokens to a king.
 SUFFOLK	O, wert thou for myself! But, Suffolk, stay;
 	Thou mayst not wander in that labyrinth;
 	There Minotaurs and ugly treasons lurk.
 	Solicit Henry with her wondrous praise:
 	Bethink thee on her virtues that surmount,
 	And natural graces that extinguish art;
 	Repeat their semblance often on the seas,
 	That, when thou comest to kneel at Henry's feet,
 	Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.
 SCENE IV	Camp of the YORK in Anjou.
 	[Enter YORK, WARWICK, and others]
 YORK	Bring forth that sorceress condemn'd to burn.
 	[Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd]
 Shepherd	Ah, Joan, this kills thy father's heart outright!
 	Have I sought every country far and near,
 	And, now it is my chance to find thee out,
 	Must I behold thy timeless cruel death?
 	Ah, Joan, sweet daughter Joan, I'll die with thee!
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Decrepit miser! base ignoble wretch!
 	I am descended of a gentler blood:
 	Thou art no father nor no friend of mine.
 Shepherd	Out, out! My lords, an please you, 'tis not so;
 	I did beget her, all the parish knows:
 	Her mother liveth yet, can testify
 	She was the first fruit of my bachelorship.
 WARWICK	Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?
 YORK	This argues what her kind of life hath been,
 	Wicked and vile; and so her death concludes.
 Shepherd	Fie, Joan, that thou wilt be so obstacle!
 	God knows thou art a collop of my flesh;
 	And for thy sake have I shed many a tear:
 	Deny me not, I prithee, gentle Joan.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Peasant, avaunt! You have suborn'd this man,
 	Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.
 Shepherd	'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest
 	The morn that I was wedded to her mother.
 	Kneel down and take my blessing, good my girl.
 	Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time
 	Of thy nativity! I would the milk
 	Thy mother gave thee when thou suck'dst her breast,
 	Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake!
 	Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs a-field,
 	I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee!
 	Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab?
 	O, burn her, burn her! hanging is too good.
 YORK	Take her away; for she hath lived too long,
 	To fill the world with vicious qualities.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	First, let me tell you whom you have condemn'd:
 	Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
 	But issued from the progeny of kings;
 	Virtuous and holy; chosen from above,
 	By inspiration of celestial grace,
 	To work exceeding miracles on earth.
 	I never had to do with wicked spirits:
 	But you, that are polluted with your lusts,
 	Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents,
 	Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices,
 	Because you want the grace that others have,
 	You judge it straight a thing impossible
 	To compass wonders but by help of devils.
 	No, misconceived! Joan of Arc hath been
 	A virgin from her tender infancy,
 	Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
 	Whose maiden blood, thus rigorously effused,
 	Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven.
 YORK	Ay, ay: away with her to execution!
 WARWICK	And hark ye, sirs; because she is a maid,
 	Spare for no faggots, let there be enow:
 	Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake,
 	That so her torture may be shortened.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Will nothing turn your unrelenting hearts?
 	Then, Joan, discover thine infirmity,
 	That warranteth by law to be thy privilege.
 	I am with child, ye bloody homicides:
 	Murder not then the fruit within my womb,
 	Although ye hale me to a violent death.
 YORK	Now heaven forfend! the holy maid with child!
 WARWICK	The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought:
 	Is all your strict preciseness come to this?
 YORK	She and the Dauphin have been juggling:
 	I did imagine what would be her refuge.
 WARWICK	Well, go to; we'll have no bastards live;
 	Especially since Charles must father it.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	You are deceived; my child is none of his:
 	It was Alencon that enjoy'd my love.
 YORK	Alencon! that notorious Machiavel!
 	It dies, an if it had a thousand lives.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	O, give me leave, I have deluded you:
 	'Twas neither Charles nor yet the duke I named,
 	But Reignier, king of Naples, that prevail'd.
 WARWICK	A married man! that's most intolerable.
 YORK	Why, here's a girl! I think she knows not well,
 	There were so many, whom she may accuse.
 WARWICK	It's sign she hath been liberal and free.
 YORK	And yet, forsooth, she is a virgin pure.
 	Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee:
 	Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
 JOAN LA PUCELLE	Then lead me hence; with whom I leave my curse:
 	May never glorious sun reflex his beams
 	Upon the country where you make abode;
 	But darkness and the gloomy shade of death
 	Environ you, till mischief and despair
 	Drive you to break your necks or hang yourselves!
 	[Exit, guarded]
 YORK	Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes,
 	Thou foul accursed minister of hell!
 	[Enter CARDINAL OF WINCHESTER, attended]
 OF WINCHESTER	Lord regent, I do greet your excellence
 	With letters of commission from the king.
 	For know, my lords, the states of Christendom,
 	Moved with remorse of these outrageous broils,
 	Have earnestly implored a general peace
 	Betwixt our nation and the aspiring French;
 	And here at hand the Dauphin and his train
 	Approacheth, to confer about some matter.
 YORK	 Is all our travail turn'd to this effect?
 	After the slaughter of so many peers,
 	So many captains, gentlemen and soldiers,
 	That in this quarrel have been overthrown
 	And sold their bodies for their country's benefit,
 	Shall we at last conclude effeminate peace?
 	Have we not lost most part of all the towns,
 	By treason, falsehood and by treachery,
 	Our great progenitors had conquered?
 	O Warwick, Warwick! I foresee with grief
 	The utter loss of all the realm of France.
 WARWICK	Be patient, York: if we conclude a peace,
 	It shall be with such strict and severe covenants
 	As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby.
 	REIGNIER, and others]
 CHARLES	Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed
 	That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France,
 	We come to be informed by yourselves
 	What the conditions of that league must be.
 YORK	Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes
 	The hollow passage of my poison'd voice,
 	By sight of these our baleful enemies.
 OF WINCHESTER	Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus:
 	That, in regard King Henry gives consent,
 	Of mere compassion and of lenity,
 	To ease your country of distressful war,
 	And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,
 	You shall become true liegemen to his crown:
 	And Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear
 	To pay him tribute, submit thyself,
 	Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him,
 	And still enjoy thy regal dignity.
 ALENCON	Must he be then as shadow of himself?
 	Adorn his temples with a coronet,
 	And yet, in substance and authority,
 	Retain but privilege of a private man?
 	This proffer is absurd and reasonless.
 CHARLES	'Tis known already that I am possess'd
 	With more than half the Gallian territories,
 	And therein reverenced for their lawful king:
 	Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd,
 	Detract so much from that prerogative,
 	As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?
 	No, lord ambassador, I'll rather keep
 	That which I have than, coveting for more,
 	Be cast from possibility of all.
 YORK	Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret means
 	Used intercession to obtain a league,
 	And, now the matter grows to compromise,
 	Stand'st thou aloof upon comparison?
 	Either accept the title thou usurp'st,
 	Of benefit proceeding from our king
 	And not of any challenge of desert,
 	Or we will plague thee with incessant wars.
 REIGNIER	My lord, you do not well in obstinacy
 	To cavil in the course of this contract:
 	If once it be neglected, ten to one
 	We shall not find like opportunity.
 ALENCON	To say the truth, it is your policy
 	To save your subjects from such massacre
 	And ruthless slaughters as are daily seen
 	By our proceeding in hostility;
 	And therefore take this compact of a truce,
 	Although you break it when your pleasure serves.
 WARWICK	How say'st thou, Charles? shall our condition stand?
 CHARLES	It shall;
 	Only reserved, you claim no interest
 	In any of our towns of garrison.
 YORK	Then swear allegiance to his majesty,
 	As thou art knight, never to disobey
 	Nor be rebellious to the crown of England,
 	Thou, nor thy nobles, to the crown of England.
 	So, now dismiss your army when ye please:
 	Hang up your ensign, let your drums be still,
 	For here we entertain a solemn peace.
 SCENE V	London. The palace.
 	[Enter SUFFOLK in conference with KING HENRY VI,
 KING HENRY VI	Your wondrous rare description, noble earl,
 	Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me:
 	Her virtues graced with external gifts
 	Do breed love's settled passions in my heart:
 	And like as rigor of tempestuous gusts
 	Provokes the mightiest hulk against the tide,
 	So am I driven by breath of her renown
 	Either to suffer shipwreck or arrive
 	Where I may have fruition of her love.
 SUFFOLK	Tush, my good lord, this superficial tale
 	Is but a preface of her worthy praise;
 	The chief perfections of that lovely dame
 	Had I sufficient skill to utter them,
 	Would make a volume of enticing lines,
 	Able to ravish any dull conceit:
 	And, which is more, she is not so divine,
 	So full-replete with choice of all delights,
 	But with as humble lowliness of mind
 	She is content to be at your command;
 	Command, I mean, of virtuous chaste intents,
 	To love and honour Henry as her lord.
 KING HENRY VI	And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume.
 	Therefore, my lord protector, give consent
 	That Margaret may be England's royal queen.
 GLOUCESTER	So should I give consent to flatter sin.
 	You know, my lord, your highness is betroth'd
 	Unto another lady of esteem:
 	How shall we then dispense with that contract,
 	And not deface your honour with reproach?
 SUFFOLK	As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths;
 	Or one that, at a triumph having vow'd
 	To try his strength, forsaketh yet the lists
 	By reason of his adversary's odds:
 	A poor earl's daughter is unequal odds,
 	And therefore may be broke without offence.
 GLOUCESTER	Why, what, I pray, is Margaret more than that?
 	Her father is no better than an earl,
 	Although in glorious titles he excel.
 SUFFOLK	Yes, lord, her father is a king,
 	The King of Naples and Jerusalem;
 	And of such great authority in France
 	As his alliance will confirm our peace
 	And keep the Frenchmen in allegiance.
 GLOUCESTER	And so the Earl of Armagnac may do,
 	Because he is near kinsman unto Charles.
 EXETER	Beside, his wealth doth warrant a liberal dower,
 	Where Reignier sooner will receive than give.
 SUFFOLK	A dower, my lords! disgrace not so your king,
 	That he should be so abject, base and poor,
 	To choose for wealth and not for perfect love.
 	Henry is able to enrich his queen
 	And not seek a queen to make him rich:
 	So worthless peasants bargain for their wives,
 	As market-men for oxen, sheep, or horse.
 	Marriage is a matter of more worth
 	Than to be dealt in by attorneyship;
 	Not whom we will, but whom his grace affects,
 	Must be companion of his nuptial bed:
 	And therefore, lords, since he affects her most,
 	It most of all these reasons bindeth us,
 	In our opinions she should be preferr'd.
 	For what is wedlock forced but a hell,
 	An age of discord and continual strife?
 	Whereas the contrary bringeth bliss,
 	And is a pattern of celestial peace.
 	Whom should we match with Henry, being a king,
 	But Margaret, that is daughter to a king?
 	Her peerless feature, joined with her birth,
 	Approves her fit for none but for a king:
 	Her valiant courage and undaunted spirit,
 	More than in women commonly is seen,
 	Will answer our hope in issue of a king;
 	For Henry, son unto a conqueror,
 	Is likely to beget more conquerors,
 	If with a lady of so high resolve
 	As is fair Margaret he be link'd in love.
 	Then yield, my lords; and here conclude with me
 	That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she.
 KING HENRY VI	Whether it be through force of your report,
 	My noble Lord of Suffolk, or for that
 	My tender youth was never yet attaint
 	With any passion of inflaming love,
 	I cannot tell; but this I am assured,
 	I feel such sharp dissension in my breast,
 	Such fierce alarums both of hope and fear,
 	As I am sick with working of my thoughts.
 	Take, therefore, shipping; post, my lord, to France;
 	Agree to any covenants, and procure
 	That Lady Margaret do vouchsafe to come
 	To cross the seas to England and be crown'd
 	King Henry's faithful and anointed queen:
 	For your expenses and sufficient charge,
 	Among the people gather up a tenth.
 	Be gone, I say; for, till you do return,
 	I rest perplexed with a thousand cares.
 	And you, good uncle, banish all offence:
 	If you do censure me by what you were,
 	Not what you are, I know it will excuse
 	This sudden execution of my will.
 	And so, conduct me where, from company,
 	I may revolve and ruminate my grief.
 GLOUCESTER	Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last.
 SUFFOLK	Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd; and thus he goes,
 	As did the youthful Paris once to Greece,
 	With hope to find the like event in love,
 	But prosper better than the Trojan did.
 	Margaret shall now be queen, and rule the king;
 	But I will rule both her, the king and realm.

Next: King Henry the Sixth, Part II