The First Part of Henry the Sixth

SCENE 5

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 burdening grief,    And pithless arms, like to a withered 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 KEEPER. 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 obscur'd,    Depriv'd 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 expir'd,    That so he might recover what was lost.

Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET

  FIRST KEEPER. My lord, your loving nephew now is come.  MORTIMER. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?  PLANTAGENET. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd,    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 despis'd?  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 us'd 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 flow'ring 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,    Depos'd 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,    Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne.    The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this    Was, for that-young Richard thus remov'd,    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, 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 great 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 deriv'd    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 title 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 remov'd.    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! [Dies]  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, hearing out the body of MORTIMER

    Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,    Chok'd 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 th' advantage of my good. Exit

ACT III.

SCENE 1

London. The Parliament House

Flourish. Enter the KING, EXETER, GLOUCESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUFFOLK; the BISHOP OF WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and others. GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; WINCHESTER snatches it, and tears it

  WINCHESTER. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines,    With written pamphlets studiously devis'd?    Humphrey of Gloucester, if thou canst accuse    Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge,    Do it without invention, suddenly;    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 forg'd, 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;    Froward 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.  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 provok'd?    No, my good lords, it is not that offends;    It is not that that incens'd hath incens'd 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  GLOUCESTER. As good!    Thou bastard of my grandfather!  WINCHESTER. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray,    But one imperious in another's throne?  GLOUCESTER. Am I not Protector, saucy priest?  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.  WINCHESTER. Unreverent Gloucester!  GLOUCESTER. Thou art reverend    Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life.  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. 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 the MAYOR OF LONDON, attended

  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 in skirmish, the retainers of GLOUCESTER and WINCHESTER, with bloody pates

  KING HENRY. We charge you, on allegiance to ourself,    To hold your slaught'ring 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 slaught'red 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. 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.  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 stem and tragical?  GLOUCESTER. Here, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.  KING HENRY. 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?  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!  WINCHESTER [Aside] So help me God, as I intend it not!  KING HENRY. 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 servants, MAYOR, &C.  WARWICK. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign;    Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet    We do exhibit to your Majesty.  GLOUCESTER. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick; for, sweet    prince,    An 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. 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 recompens'd.  WINCHESTER. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester.  KING HENRY. 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. Stoop then and set your knee against my foot;    And in reguerdon of that duty done    I girt 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. 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 forg'd love    And will at last break out into a flame;    As fest'red 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 nam'd the Fifth    Was in the mouth of every sucking babe:    That Henry born at Monmouth should win all,    And Henry born at Windsor should lose all.    Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish    His days may finish ere that hapless time. Exit

SCENE 2

France. Before Rouen

Enter LA PUCELLE disguis'd, with four soldiers dressed like countrymen, with sacks upon their backs

  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. [Knocks]  WATCH. [Within] Qui est 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.

  PUCELLE. Now, Rouen, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the    ground.

[LA PUCELLE, &c., enter the town]

Enter CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON, REIGNIER, and forces

  CHARLES. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem!    And once again we'll sleep secure in Rouen.  BASTARD. Here ent'red Pucelle and her practisants;    Now she is there, how will she specify    Here is the best and safest passage in?  ALENCON. 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 ent'red.

Enter LA PUCELLE, on the top, thrusting out a torch burning

  PUCELLE. Behold, this is the happy wedding torch    That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,    But burning fatal to the Talbotites. Exit  BASTARD. 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!  ALENCON. 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 escap'd the pride of France. Exit

An alarum; excursions. BEDFORD brought in sick in

a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without;

within, LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, BASTARD, ALENCON,

and REIGNIER, on the walls

  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!  PUCELLE. What 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.  PUCELLE. Are ye so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;    If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.                 [The English party whisper together in council]    God speed the parliament! Who shall be the Speaker?  TALBOT. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?  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 muleteers of France!    Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls,    And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.  PUCELLE. Away, captains! Let's get us from the walls;    For Talbot means no goodness by his looks.    God b'uy, 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 against the town all but BEDFORD and attendants

An alarum; excursions. Enter SIR JOHN 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 and leave Lord Talbot?  FASTOLFE. Ay,    All the Talbots in the world, to save my life. Exit  CAPTAIN. Cowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee!                                              Exit into the town

Retreat; excursions. 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 recovered 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 Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.  TALBOT. But yet, before we go, let's not forget    The noble Duke of Bedford, late deceas'd,    But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen.    A braver soldier never couched lance,    A gentler heart did never sway in court;    But kings and mightiest potentates must die,    For that's the end of human misery. Exeunt

SCENE 3

The plains near Rouen

Enter CHARLES, the BASTARD, ALENCON, LA PUCELLE, and forces

  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 rul'd.  CHARLES. We have guided by thee hitherto,    And of thy cunning had no diffidence;    One sudden foil shall never breed distrust  BASTARD. 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 reverenc'd like a blessed saint.    Employ thee, then, sweet virgin, for our good.  PUCELLE. Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:    By fair persuasions, mix'd with sug'red 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 expuls'd from France,    And not have tide of an earldom here.  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.  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