« PreviousContinue »
Lucy. His fame lives in the world, his shame in you. Tal. When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword
(Exeunt. struck fire,
Enter Talbot, and Joux his Son. Of bold-fac'd victory. Then leaden age,
Beat down Alençon, Orleans, Burgundy,
Of thy first fight-I soon encountered;
And, interchanging blows, I quickly shed
Some of his bastard blood; and, in disgrace,
And misbegotten blood I spill of thine,
blood of mine, John. Is my name Talbot? and am I your
Which thou didst force from Talbot, my brave boy:And shall I ily? o, if you love my mother, Here, purposing the Bastard to destroy, Dishonour not her honourable name,
Came in strong rescue. Speak, thy father's care; To make a bastard, and a slave of me:
Art not thou weary, John? How dost thou fare? The world will say: he is not Talbot's blood,
Wilt thou yet leave the battle, boy, and fly,
Fly, to revenge my death, when I am dead;
By me they nothing gain, an if I stay,
In thee thy mother dies, our household's name,
All these are sav’d, if thou wilt fly away.
John.The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart, If, the first hour, I shrink, and run away.
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart: Here, on my knee, I beg mortality,
On that advantage, bought with such a shame,
(To save a paltry life, and slay bright fame,)
To be shame's scorn, and subject of mischance!
Surely, by all the glory you have won,
Thou Icarus; thy life to me is sweet :
If thou wilt fight, fight by thy father's side;
And, commendable prov'd, let's die in pride. [Exeunt.
SCENE VII. – Another part of the same.
Enter Talbot wounded,
supported by a Servunt.
0, where's young Talbot? where is valiant John?Tal. Then here I take my leave of thee, fair son, Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee :
Triumphant death, smear'd with captivity!
When he perceiv'd me shrink, and on my knee,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me,
Rough deeds of rage, and stern impatience;
But when my angry guardant stood alone, med about, and Talbot rescues him. Tal. Saint George and victory ! fight, soldiers, fight! Suddenly made him from my side to start
Dizzy-ey'd fury, and great rage of heart,
Into the clust'ring battle of the French :
And in that sea of blood my boy did drench
My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.
Enter Soldiers, bearing the body of Jons Taldot; Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate,
Serv. O my dear lord ?lo, where your son is borne! To my determin's time thou gav'st new date.
Tal. Thou antic death, which laugh’st us here to
Anon, from thy insulting tyranny,
It would amaze the prondest of you all. Coupled in bonds of perpetuity,
Give me their bodies; that I may bear them hence, Two Talbots, winged through the lither sky, And give them burial as beseems their worth. In thy despite, shall 'scape mortality. —
Puc. I think, this upstart is old Talbot's ghost,
Char. Go, take their bodies hence.
A phoenix, that shall make all France afeard. My spirit can no longer bear these harms.
Char. So we be rid of them, do with 'em what thou Soldiers, adien! I have what I would have,
wilt. Now my old arms are young John Talbot'sgrave. (Dies. And now to Paris, in this conquering vein; Alarums. Exeunt Soldiers and Servants, leaving All will be ours, now bloody Talbot's slain. (Exeunt. the two bodies. Enter CHARLES, Alençon, BUR
GUNDY, Bastard, La Pucelle, and Forces.
А ст V.
SCENE I. - London. A room in the palace.
Puc. Once I encounter'd him, and thus I said, The emperor, and the eart of Armagnac?
Between the realms of England and of France. So, rushing in the bowels of the French,
K. Hen. How doth your grace alect their motion ? He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.
Glo. Well, my good lord; and as ibe only means Bur. Doubtless, he would have made a noble knight: To stop effusion of our Christian blood, See, where he lies inhersed in the arms
And 'stablish quietness on every side. Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
K. Hen. Ay, marry, uncle; for I always thought,
Glo. Beside, my lord, – tire sooner to effect,
The earl of Armagnac-near knit to Charles,
A man of great authority in France, Conduct me to the Dauphin's tent; to know Proffers his only daughter to your grace Who have obtain'd the glory of the day.
In marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry. Char. On what submissive message art thou sent? | K. Hen. Marriage, uncle! alas! my years are young: Lucy. Submission, Dauphin? 'tis a mere french and fitter is my study and my books, word;
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
I shall be well content with any choice,
Enter a Legate, and two Ambassadors, with Lucy. Where is the great Alcides of the field,
WINCHESTER, in a cardinal's habit. Valiant lord Talbot, earl of Shrewsbury?
Exe. What! is my lord of Winchester install’d, Created, for his rare success in arms,
And callid unto a cardinal's degree !
Henry the fifth did sometime prophecy:
K. Hen. My lords ambassadors, your several suits
To draw conditions of a friendly peace;
Pue. Here is a silly stately style indeed! Shall be transported presently to France.
I have informn'd his highness so at large,
Lucy. Is Talbot slain; the Frenchman's only scourge, He doth intend' she shall be England's queen.
K. Hen. In argument and proof of which contract,
And so, my lord protector, see them guarded, It were enough to fright the realm of France: And safely brought to Dover; where, inshipp'd, Were but his picture left among you here,
Commit them to the fo tune of the sea.
Suf. III Whe, for Mar. H Suf. YE
Mar. F And the Suf. Si Dlar. 1
[Exeunt King Henry and Train; Gloster, See! they forsake me. Now the time is come,
That France must vail her lofty-plumed crest,
My ancient incantations are too weak,
And hell too strong for me to buckle with:
Now, France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. (Exit.
is taken. The French fly.
Unchain your spirits pow with spelling charms,
And try if they can gain your liberty: –
As if, with Circe, she would change my shape.
No shape but his can please your dainty eye,
And may ye both be suddenly surpris’d
By bloody haois, in sleeping on your beds!
York.Feil,banning hag! enchantress, hold thy tongue!
Alarums. Enter Suffolk, leading in Lady Margaret.
Suf. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.
(Gazes on her.
O fairest beauty, do not fear, por fly;
I kiss these fingers ( Kissing her hand. ] for eternal
Mar. Margaret my name; and daughter to a king,
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save,
[Exeunt. Yet, if this servile usage once oflend,
Go, and be free again as Sullolk's friend.
[She turns away as going.
Twinkling another counterfeited beam,
Fain would I woo her, yet I dare not speak;
I'll call for pen and ink, and write my mind:
Fye, De la Poole! disable not thyself;
Hast not a tongue? is she not here thy prisoner ?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight?
Ay, beauty's princely majesty is such,
Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough.
Mar. Say, earl of Suffolk, – if thy name be so,
(They walk about, and speak not. For, I perceive, I am thy prisoner,
Suf. How canst thou tell, she will deny thy suit,
Before thou make a trial of her love?
Mar. Why speak'st thou not? what ransome must
Suf. She's beautiful; and therefore to be woo'd;
Mar. Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea, or no?
Suf. Fond man! remember, that thou hast a wife;
(They shake their heads. Then how can Margaret be thy paramour? (Aside.
Mar. I were best leave him, for he will not hear.
Suf. There all is marr’d; there lies a cooling card.
Mar. He talks at random ; sure, the man is mad.
Suf. And yet a dispensation may be had.
Suf. I'll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Reig. Since thou dost deign to woo her little worth,
Enjoy mine own, the county Maine, and Anjou,
peace established between these realms. Free from oppression, or the stroke of war,
My daughter shall be Henry's, if he please.
And those two counties, I will undertake,
Give thee her hand, for sign of plighted faith.
Suf. Reignier of France, I give thee kingly thanks,
Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say. To be mine own attorney in this case. [Aside.
[Aside. Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace Suf. Lady, wherefore talk you so ?
The Christian prince, king Henry, were he here.
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. Going.
No princely commendations to my king?
Mar. Such commendations as become a maid,
A virgin, and his servant, say to him.
Suf. Words sweetly plac’d, and modestly directed.
Mar. Yes, my good lord; a pure unspotted heart,
Never yet taint with love, I send the king.
Suf. And this withal.
(Kisses her. Mar. What?
Mar. That for thyself; – I will not so presume,
To send such peevish tokens to a king,
(Exeunt Reignier and Margaret. Suf. No, gentle madam ; I unworthy am
Suf. 0, wert thou for myself! – But, Suffolk, stay:
Thou may'st not wander in that labyrinth;
Repeat their semblance often on the sea's,
That, when thou com’st to kneel at Henry's feet, [Troops come forward. Thou may'st bereave him of his wits with wonder. A parley sounded. Enter Reignier, on the walls.
(Exit. Suf. See, Reignier, see, thy daughter prisoner. SCENE IV. – Camp of the Duke of York, in Anjou. Reig. To whom?
Enter YORK, WARWICK, and Others,
York. Bring forth that sorceress, condemn’d to burn.
Enter La PUCELLE, guarded, and a Shepherd. I am a soldier; and unapt to weep,
Shep. Ah, Joan! this kills thy father's heart outright!
Have I sought every country far and near,
I am descended of a gentler blood;
Thou art no father, nor no friend, of mine.
Shep. Out, out!-Mylords, an please you, 'tis not so;
I did beget her, all the parish knows :
Far. Graceless! wilt thou deny thy parentage?
(Exit, from the walls. York. This argues what her kind of life hath been ; Suf. And here I will expect thy coming.
Wicked and vile: and so her death concludes.
Suf. Thanks, Reigoier, happy for so sweet a child, Deny me not, I prythee, gentle Joan.
Puc. Peasant, avaunt!- You have suborn'd this man,
The (Had Wou
Shep. 'Tis true, I gave a noble to the priest, York. Break thon in pieces, and consume to ashes,
Enter Cardinal Beaufont, attended. Wilt thou not stoop? Now cursed be the time Car. Lord regent, I do greet your excellence of thy nativity! I would, the milk
With letters of commission from the king.
Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils,
Betwixt our nation, and the aspiring French;
And here at hand, the Dauphiu, and his train, O, burn her, burn her; hanging is too good! (Exit. Approacheth, to confer about some matter. York. Take her away; for she hath liv'd too long, Pork. Is all our travail tura'd to this effect ? To fill the world with vicious qualities.
After the slaughter of so many peers, Puc. First, let me tell you whom you have con- So many captains, gentlemen, and soldiers, demn'd:
That in this quarrel have been overthrown, Not me begotten of a shepherd swain,
And sold their bodies for their country's benefit, But issu'd from the progeny of kings;
Shall we at last conclude etl'eminate peace? Virtuous, and holy; chosen from above,
Have we not lost most part of all the towus. By inspiration of celestial grace,
By treason, falsehood, and by treachery, To work exceeding miracles on earth.
Our great progenitors had conquered ? I never had to do with wicked spirits:
0, Warwick, Warwick, I foresee with grief that are polluted with your lasts, The utter loss of all the realm of France. Stain'd with the guiltless blood of innocents, War. Be patient, York; if we conclude a peace, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand vices, - It shall be with such strict and severe covenants, Because you want the grace that others have, As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby. You judge it straight a thing impossible
Enter Charles, attended; Alençox, Bastard, ReicTo compass wonders, but by help of devils.
Nier, and Others. No, misconceived ! Joan of Arc hath been
Char. Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed, A virgin from her tender infancy,
That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France, Chaste and immaculate in very thought;
We come to be informed by yourselves
vengeance at the gates of heaven. York. Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes
Vin, Charles, and the rest, it is enacted thus:
Of mere compassion, and of lenity,
And suffer you to breathe in fruitful peace,
And, Charles, upon condition thou wilt swear Murder not then the fruit within my womb, To pay him tribute, and submit thyself, Although ye hale me to a violent death.
Thou shalt be plac'd as viceroy under him,
Alen. Muse he be then as shadow of himself?
York. She and the Dauphin have been juggling: Retain but privilege of a private man?
This proffer is absurd and reasonless.
With more than half the Gallian territories,
Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquish’d,
As to be call'd but viceroy of the whole?
York. Insulting Charles! hast thou by secret means
War. It's sign she hath been liberal and free. Stand’st thou aloof upon comparison ?
Of benefit proceeding from our king,
And not of any challenge of desert,
Reig. My lord, you do not well in obstipacy
To cavil in the course of this contráct: Upon the country where you make abode!
If once it be neglected, ten to one, But darkness and the gloomy shade of death We shall not find like opportunity. Environ you; till mischief, and despair,
Alen. To say the truth, it is your policy, Drive you to break your necks, or hang yourselves ! To save your subjects from such massacre,
(Exit, guarded. And ruthless slaughters, as are daily seen