King Henry VI, First Part

And now, my lord protector, view the letterSent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.GLOUCESTERWhat 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 superscriptionPretend some alteration in good will?What's here? [Reads] 'I have, upon especial cause,Moved with compassion of my country's wreck,Together with the pitiful complaintsOf 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?KINGWhat! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?GLOUCESTERHe doth, my lord, and is become your foe.KINGIs that the worst this letter doth contain?GLOUCESTERIt is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.KINGWhy, then, Lord Talbot there shall talk with him,And give him chastisement for this abuse.How say you, my lord? are you not content?TALBOTContent, my liege! yes; but that I am prevented,I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd.KINGThen 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.TALBOTI go, my lord, in heart desiring stillYou may behold confusion of your foes.

[Exit.]

[Enter Vernon and Basset.]

VERNONGrant me the combat, gracious sovereign.BASSETAnd me, my lord, grant me the combat too.YORKThis is my servant: hear him, noble prince.SOMERSETAnd this is mine: sweet Henry, favor him.KINGBe patient, lords, and give them leave to speak.Say, gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaim?And wherefore crave you combat? or with whom?VERNONWith him, my lord; for he hath done me wrong.BASSETAnd I with him; for he hath done me wrong.KINGWhat is that wrong whereof you both complain?First let me know, and then I'll answer you.BASSETCrossing 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 leavesDid represent my master's blushing cheeks,When stubbornly he did repugn the truthAbout a certain question in the lawArgued 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.VERNONAnd that is my petition, noble lord:For though he seem with forged quaint conceitTo 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 flowerBewray'd the faintness of my master's heart.YORKWill not this malice, Somerset, be left?SOMERSETYour private grudge, my Lord of York, will out,Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it.KINGGood Lord, what madness rules in brainsick men,When for so slight and frivolous a causeSuch factious emulations shall arise!Good cousins both, of York and Somerset,Quiet yourselves, I pray, and be at peace.YORKLet this dissension first be tried by fight,And then your highness shall command a peace.SOMERSETThe quarrel toucheth none but us alone;Betwixt ourselves let us decide it then.YORKThere is my pledge; accept it, Somerset.VERNONNay, let it rest where it began at first.BASSETConfirm it so, mine honorable lord.GLOUCESTERConfirm it so! Confounded be your strife!And perish ye, with your audacious prate!Presumptuous vassals, are you not ashamedWith this immodest clamorous outrageTo trouble and disturb the king and us?And you, my lords, methinks you do not wellTo bear with their perverse objections;Much less to take occasion from their mouthsTo raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves:Let me persuade you take a better course.EXETERIt grieves his highness: good my lords, be friends.KINGCome hither, you that would be combatants:Henceforth I charge you, as you love our favor,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 looksAnd that within ourselves we disagree,How will their grudging stomachs be provokedTo willful disobedience, and rebel!Beside, what infamy will there ariseWhen foreign princes shall be certifiedThat for a toy, a thing of no regard,King Henry's peers and chief nobilityDestroy'd themselves and lost the realm of FranceO, think upon the conquest of my father,My tender years; and let us not forgoThat 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 suspiciousI 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 persuadeThan 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 graceTo be our Regent in these parts of France:And, good my Lord of Somerset, uniteYour troops of horsemen with his bands of foot;And, like true subjects, sons of your progenitors,Go cheerfully together and digestYour angry choler on your enemies.Ourself, my lord protector and the restAfter some respite will return to Calais;From thence to England; where I hope ere longTo be presented, by your victories,With Charles, Alencon, and that traitorous rout.

[Flourish. Exeunt all but York, Warwick, Exeter and Vernon.]

WARWICKMy Lord of York, I promise you, the kingPrettily, methought, did play the orator.YORKAnd so he did; but yet I like it not,In that he wears the badge of Somerset.WARWICKTush, that was but his fancy, blame him not;I dare presume, sweet prince, he thought no harm.YORKAn if I wist he did, – but let it rest;Other affairs must now be managed.

[Exeunt all but Exeter.]

EXETERWell didst thou, Richard, to suppress thy voice;For, had the passions of thy heart burst out,I fear we should have seen decipher'd thereMore rancorous spite, more furious raging broils,Than yet can be imagined or supposed.But howsoe'er, no simple man that seesThis jarring discord of nobility,This shouldering of each other in the court,This factious bandying of their favorites,But that it doth presage some ill event.Tis much when scepters are in children's hands;But more when envy breeds unkind division;There comes the ruin, there begins confusion.

[Exit.]

SCENE II. Before Bordeaux

[Enter Talbot, with trump and drum.]

TALBOTGo to the gates of Bordeaux, 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 earthShall lay your stately and air-braving towers,If you forsake the offer of their love.GENERALThou 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 fortifiedAnd 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'dTo 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 sacramentTo rive their dangerous artilleryUpon 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 praiseThat 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 colored,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, etc.]

TALBOTHe 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 steelAnd 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 colors in this dangerous fight!

[Exeunt.]

SCENE III. Plains in Gascony

[Enter a Messenger that meets York. Enter York with trumpet and many soldiers.]

YORKAre not the speedy scouts return'd again,That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin?MESSENGERThey are return'd, my lord, and give it outThat he is march'd to Bordeaux with his power,To fight with Talbot: as he march'd along,By your espials were discoveredTwo mightier troops than that the Dauphin led,Which join'd with him and made their march forBordeaux.YORKA plague upon that villain Somerset,That thus delays my promised supplyOf 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.]

LUCYThou 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 Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, York!Else, farewell, Talbot, France, and England's honor.YORKO God, that Somerset, who in proud heartDoth stop my cornets, were in Talbot's place!So should we save a valiant gentlemanBy forfeiting a traitor and a coward.Mad ire and wrathful fury makes me weep,That thus we die, while remiss traitors sleep.LUCYO, send some succor to the distress'd lord!YORKHe dies; we lose; I break my warlike word;We mourn, France smiles; we lose, they daily get;All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset.LUCYThen God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul;And on his son young John, who two hours sinceI 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.YORKAlas, 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.]

LUCYThus, while the vulture of seditionFeeds in the bosom of such great commanders,Sleeping neglection doth betray to lossThe conquest of our scarce cold conqueror,That ever living man of memory,Henry the Fifth: whiles they each other cross,Lives, honors, lands and all hurry to loss.

[Exit.]

SCENE IV. Other plains in Gascony

[Enter Somerset, with his army; a Captain of

Talbot's with him.]SOMERSETIt is too late; I cannot send them now:This expedition was by York and TalbotToo rashly plotted: all our general forceMight with a sally of the very townBe buckled with: the over-daring TalbotHath sullied all his gloss of former honorBy this unheedful, desperate, wild adventure:York set him on to fight and die in shame,That, Talbot dead, great York might bear the name.CAPTAINHere is Sir William Lucy, who with meSet from our o'er-match'd forces forth for aid.

[Enter Sir William Lucy.]

SOMERSETHow now, Sir William! whither were you sent?LUCYWhither, 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 honorable captain thereDrops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs,And, in advantage lingering, looks for rescue,You, his false hopes, the trust of England's honor,Keep off aloof with worthless emulation.Let not your private discord keep awayThe levied succors that should lend him aid,While he, renowned noble gentleman,Yield up his life unto a world of odds.Orleans the Bastard, Charles, Burgundy,Alencon, Reignier, compass him about,And Talbot perisheth by your default.SOMERSETYork set him on; York should have sent him aid.LUCYAnd York as fast upon your grace exclaims;Swearing that you withhold his levied host,Collected for this expedition.SOMERSETYork 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.LUCYThe 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.SOMERSETCome, go; I will dispatch the horsemen straight:Within six hours they will be at his aid.LUCYToo 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.SOMERSETIf he be dead, brave Talbot, then adieu!LUCYHis fame lives in the world, his shame in you.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE V. The English camp near Bordeaux

[Enter Talbot and John his son.]

TALBOTO young John Talbot! I did send for theeTo tutor thee in stratagems of war,That Talbot's name might be in thee revivedWhen sapless age and weak unable limbsShould 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 escapeBy sudden flight: come, dally not, be gone.JOHNIs my name Talbot? and am I your son?And shall I fly? O, if you love my mother,Dishonor not her honorable 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.TALBOTFly, to revenge my death, if I be slain.JOHNHe that flies so will ne'er return again.TALBOTIf we both stay, we both are sure to die.JOHNThen 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 honor you have won;But mine it will, that no exploit have done;You fled for vantage, every one 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.TALBOTShall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?JOHNAye, rather than I 'll shame my mother's womb.TALBOTUpon my blessing, I command thee go.JOHNTo fight I will, but not to fly the foe.TALBOTPart of thy father may be saved in thee.JOHNNo part of him but will be shame in me.TALBOTThou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.JOHNYes, your renowned name: shall flight abuse it?TALBOTThy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.JOHNYou cannot witness for me, being slain.If death be so apparent, then both fly.TALBOTAnd leave my followers here to fight and die;My age was never tainted with such shame.JOHNAnd 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.TALBOTThen 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.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VI. A field of battle

[Alarum: excursions, wherein Talbot's Son is hemmed about, and Talbot rescues him.]

TALBOTSaint 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.JOHNO, 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 fate,To my determined time thou gavest new date.TALBOTWhen from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire,It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desireOf 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 bloodFrom thee, my boy, and had the maidenhoodOf thy first fight, I soon encountered,And interchanging blows I quickly shedSome of his bastard blood; and in disgraceBespoke him thus; 'Contaminated baseAnd 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 short'ning 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.JOHNThe 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 fall 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.TALBOTThen 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.

[Exeunt.]

SCENE VII. Another part of the field

[Alarum: excursions. Enter old Talbot led by a Servant.]

TALBOTWhere 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 valor 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 commenceRough deeds of rage and stern impatience;But when my angry guardant stood alone,Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none,Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of heartSuddenly made him from my side to startInto the clustering battle of the French;And in that sea of blood my boy did drenchHis over-mounting spirit, and there died,My Icarus, my blossom, in his pride.SERVANTO my dear lord, lo where your son is borne!

[Enter soldiers, with the body of young Talbot.]

TALBOTThou 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-favor'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.

[Dies.]

[Enter Charles, Alencon, Burgundy, Bastard, La Pucelle, and forces.]

CHARLESHad York and Somerset brought rescue in,We should have found a bloody day of this.BASTARDHow the young whelp of Talbot's, raging-wood,Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood!PUCELLEOnce 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 bornTo be the pillage of a giglot wench:'So, rushing in the bowels of the French,He left me proudly, as unworthy fight.BURGUNDYDoubtless he would have made a noble knight:See, where he lies inhearsed in the armsOf the most bloody nurser of his harms!BASTARDHew them to pieces, hack their bones asunder,Whose life was England's glory, Gallia's wonder.CHARLESO, no, forbear! for that which we have fledDuring the life, let us not wrong it dead.

[Enter Sir William Lucy, attended; Herald of the French preceding.]

LUCYHerald, conduct me to the Dauphin's tent,To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day.CHARLESOn what submissive message art thou sent?LUCYSubmission, 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.CHARLESFor prisoners ask'st thou? hell our prison is.But tell me whom thou seek'st.LUCYBut 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 SixthOf all his wars within the realm of France?PUCELLEHere's 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 titlesStinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet.LUCYIs Talbot slain, the Frenchman's only scourge,Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis?O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd,That I in rage might shoot them at your faces!O, that I could but can 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 henceAnd give them burial as beseems their worth.PUCELLEI 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 putrify the air.CHARLESGo, take their bodies hence.LUCYI 'll bear them hence; but from their ashes shall berear'dA phoenix that shall make all France afeard.CHARLESSo 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.

[Exeunt.]

ACT FIFTH

SCENE I. London. The palace

[Sennet. Enter King, Gloucester, and Exeter.]

KINGHave you perused the letters from the pope,The emperor, and the Earl of Armagnac?GLOUCESTERI have, my lord: and their intent is this:They humbly sue unto your excellenceTo have a godly peace concluded ofBetween the realms of England and of France.KINGHow doth your grace affect their motion?GLOUCESTERWell, my good lord; and as the only meansTo stop effusion of our Christian bloodAnd stablish quietness on every side.KINGAye, marry, uncle; for I always thoughtIt was both impious and unnaturalThat such immanity and bloody strifeShould reign among professors of one faith.GLOUCESTERBeside, my lord, the sooner to effectAnd 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 graceIn marriage, with a large and sumptuous dowry.KINGMarriage, uncle! alas, my years are young!And fitter is my study and my booksThan wanton dalliance with a paramour.Yet call the ambassadors; and, as you please,So let them have their answers every one:I shall be well content with any choiceTends to God's glory and my country's weal.

[Enter Winchester in Cardinal's habit, a Legate and two Ambassadors.]

EXETERWhat! is my Lord of Winchester install'dAnd call'd unto a cardinal's degree?Then I perceive that will be verifiedHenry the Fifth did sometime prophesy,'If once he come to be a cardinal,He'll make his cap co-equal with the crown.'KINGMy lords ambassadors, your several suitsHave been consider'd and debated on.Your purpose is both good and reasonable;And therefore are we certainly resolvedTo draw conditions of a friendly peace;Which by my Lord of Winchester we meanShall be transported presently to France.GLOUCESTERAnd 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.KINGIn argument and proof of which contract,Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection.And so, my lord protector, see them guardedAnd safely brought to Dover; where inshipp'd,Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

[Exeunt all but Winchester and Legate.]