The First Part of Henry the Sixth

    There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread,    And all the troops of English after him.

French march. Enter the DUKE OF BURGUNDY and his 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?  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.  PUCELLE. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!    Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.  BURGUNDY. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.  PUCELLE. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,    And see the cities and the towns defac'd    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 woeful 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.  PUCELLE. Besides, all French and France exclaims on thee,    Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.    Who join'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 join'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 batt'red 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.  PUCELLE. Done like a Frenchman- [Aside] turn and turn    again.  CHARLES. Welcome, brave Duke! Thy friendship makes us    fresh.  BASTARD. 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. Exeunt

SCENE 4

Paris. The palace

Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, 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. [Kneels]  KING HENRY. 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. 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    Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spak'st?  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 knowest 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. Exeunt

ACT IV.

SCENE 1

Park. The palace

Enter the KING, GLOUCESTER, WINCHESTER, YORK, SUFFOLK, SOMERSET, WARWICK, TALBOT, EXETER, the GOVERNOR OF PARIS, and others

  GLOUCESTER. Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head.  WINCHESTER. God save King Henry, of that name the Sixth!  GLOUCESTER. Now, Governor of Paris, take your oath                                               [GOVERNOR kneels]    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 practices against his state.    This shall ye do, so help you righteous God!Exeunt GOVERNOR and his train

Enter SIR JOHN 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 th' 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 surpris'd 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. 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.                                                   Exit FASTOLFE    And now, my Lord Protector, view the letter    Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy.  GLOUCESTER. [Viewing the superscription] What means his    Grace, that he hath chang'd 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? [Reads] 'I have, upon especial cause,    Mov'd 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. What! Doth my uncle Burgundy revolt?  GLOUCESTER. He doth, my lord, and is become your foe.  KING HENRY. Is that the worst this letter doth contain?  GLOUCESTER. It is the worst, and all, my lord, he writes.  KING HENRY. 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. 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. Exit

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. 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. 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    Argu'd 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 provok'd 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. 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 asham'd    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. 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 provok'd    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 forgo    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, 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 imagin'd or suppos'd.    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 ruin, there begins confusion. Exit

SCENE 2

France. Before Bordeaux

Enter TALBOT, with trump and drum

  TALBOT. Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter;    Summon their general unto the wall.

Trumpet sounds a parley. Enter, aloft, the GENERAL OF THE FRENCH, and others

    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 sovereignvours    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 OF THE FRENCH. 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 withered, 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. Exit  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,    Maz'd 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! Exeunt

SCENE 3

Plains in Gascony

Enter YORK, with trumpet and many soldiers. A MESSENGER meets him

  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 Bordeaux 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    Bordeaux.  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 louted 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 Bordeaux, warlike Duke! to Bordeaux, 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 succour 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 sund'red 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 forces  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. Exit

SCENE 4

Other plains of Gascony

Enter SOMERSET, With his forces; an OFFICER 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.  OFFICER. Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me    Set from our o'er-match'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 ling'ring, 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 succours 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.  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.Exeunt

SCENE 5

The English camp near Bordeaux

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 reviv'd    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. 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. He that flies so will ne'er return again.  TALBOT. If we both stay, we both are sure to die.  JOHN. 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, 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 preserv'd with infamy.  TALBOT. Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb?  JOHN. Ay, rather than I'll shame my mother's womb.  TALBOT. Upon my blessing I command thee go.  JOHN. To fight I will, but not to fly the foe.  TALBOT. Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee.  JOHN. No part of him but will be shame in me.  TALBOT. Thou never hadst renown, nor canst not lose it.  JOHN. Yes, your renowned name; shall flight abuse it?  TALBOT. Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain.  JOHN. 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. And shall my youth be guilty of such blame?    No more can I be severed from your side    Than can yourself 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. Exeunt