HENRY VI PART ONE

HENRY VI PART ONE BY WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE AND OTHERS THE play printed here first appeared in the 1623 Folio, as The First Part of Henry VI; it tells the beginning of the story that is continued in The First Part of the Contention and in Richard Duke of York. Although in narrative sequence it belongs before those plays, there is good reason to believe that it was written after them. It is probably the ‘new’ play referred to as ‘harey the vj’ in the record of its performance on 3 March 1592 by Lord Strange’s Men. The box-office takings of £3 16s. 8d. were a record for the season, and the play was acted another fifteen times during the following ten months. Its success is mentioned in Thomas Nashe’s satirical pamphlet Piers Penniless, published later in 1592. Defending the drama against moralistic attacks, Nashe claims that plays based on ‘our English chronicles’ celebrate ‘our forefathers’ valiant acts’ and set them up as a ‘reproof to these degenerate effeminate days of ours’. By way of illustration he alludes specifically to the exploits of Lord Talbot, the principal English warrior in Henry VI Part One: ‘How would it have joyed brave Talbot, the terror of the French, to think that after he had lain two hundred years in his tomb he should triumph again on the stage, and have his bones new-embalmed with the tears of ten thousand spectators at least, at several times, who in the tragedian that represents his person imagine they behold him fresh bleeding!’ Nashe may have had personal reasons to puff this play: a variety of evidence suggests that Shakespeare wrote it in collaboration with at least two other authors; Nashe himself was probably responsible for Act 1. The passages most confidently attributed to Shakespeare are Act 2, Scene 4 and Act 4, Scene 2 to the death of Talbot at 4.7.32. A mass of material, some derived from ‘English chronicles’, some invented, is packed into this play. It opens impressively with the funeral of Henry V, celebrated for unifying England and subjugating France; but his nobles are at loggerheads even over his coffin, and news rapidly arrives of serious losses in France. The rivalry displayed here between Humphrey, Duke of Gloucester—Protector of the infant Henry VI—and Henry Beaufort, Bishop of Winchester, plays an important part in both this play and The Contention, as does the conflict between Richard, Duke of York, and the houses of Somerset and Suffolk; in the Temple Garden scene (2.4), invented by Shakespeare, York’s and Somerset’s supporters symbolize their respective loyalties by plucking white and red roses. Their dissension weakens England’s military strength, but she has a great hero in Lord Talbot, whose nobility as a warrior is pitted against the treachery of the French, led by King Charles and Joan la Pucelle (Joan of Arc), here—following the chronicles—portrayed as a witch and a whore. Historical facts are freely manipulated: Joan was burnt in 1431, though the play’s authors have her take part in a battle of 1451 in which Talbot’s death is brought forward by two years. The play ends with an uneasy peace between England and France. THE PERSONS OF THE PLAY The English KING Henry VI Duke of GLOUCESTER, Lord Protector, uncle of King Henry Duke of BEDFORD, Regent of France Duke of EXETER Bishop of WINCHESTER (later Cardinal), uncle of King Henry Duke of SOMERSET RICHARD PLANTAGENET, later DUKE OF YORK, and Regent of France Earl of WARWICK Earl of SALISBURY Earl of SUFFOLK Lord TALBOT JOHN Talbot Edmund MORTIMER Sir William GLASDALE Sir Thomas GARGRAVE Sir John FASTOLF Sir William LUCY WOODVILLE, Lieutenant of the Tower of London MAYOR of London VERNON BASSET A LAWYER A LEGATE Messengers, warders and keepers of the Tower of London, servingmen, officers, captains, soldiers, herald, watch The French CHARLES, Dauphin of France RENÉ, Duke of Anjou, King of Naples MARGARET, his daughter Duke of ALENÇON BASTARD of Orléans Duke of BURGUNDY, uncle of King Henry GENERAL of the French garrison at Bordeaux COUNTESS of Auvergne MASTER GUNNER of Orléans A BOY, his son JOAN la Pucelle A SHEPHERD, father of Joan Porter, French sergeant, French sentinels, French scout, French herald, the Governor of Paris, fiends, and soldiers

The First Part of Henry the Sixth

Atto 1, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Dead march. Enter the funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the Duke of Bedford (Regent of France), the Duke of Gloucester (Protector), the Duke of Exeter, the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset
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 brandished sword did blind men with his beams. His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings. His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than midday 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?
WINCHESTER	He was a king blest 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 prayed, His thread of life had not so soon decayed. None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom like a schoolboy you may overawe.
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 lov‘st 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Warwick, Somerset, and heralds with coffin
BEDFORD	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’ moistened eyes, babes shall suck, Our isle be made a marish 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—
(didascalia)	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. Guyenne, Compiegne, Rouen, Rheims, Orléans, Paris, Gisors, Poitiers are all quite lost.
BEDFORD	What sayst thou, man, before dead Henry’s corpse? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.
GLOUCESTER	(to the Messenger) Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up? If Henry were recalled to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.
EXETER	(to the Messenger) How were they lost? What treachery was used?
MESSENGER	No treachery, but want of men and money. Amongst the soldiers this is mutterèd: That here you maintain several factions, And whilst a field should be dispatched and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have ling’ring 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 obtained. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot. Cropped are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
(didascalia)	Of England’s coat, one half is cut away. Exit
EXETER	Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth her 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!
(didascalia)	He removes his mourning robe
BEDFORD	Wounds will I lend the French, instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries.
(didascalia)	Enter to them another Messenger with letters
SECOND 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 in Rheims; The Bastard of Orléans with him is joined; René, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The Duke of Alençon flyeth to his side. Exit
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 mustered in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun.
(didascalia)	Enter another Messenger
THIRD 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.
WINCHESTER	What, wherein Talbot overcame—is’t so?
THIRD 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 Orléans, 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 plucked 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 everywhere, enraged he slew. The French exclaimed 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 rushed into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been sealed up, If Sir John Fastolf had not played the coward. He, being in the vanguard placed behind, With purpose to relieve and follow them, Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. Hence grew the general wrack and massacre. Enclosèd 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 betrayed.
THIRD MESSENGER	O no, he lives, but is took prisoner, And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughtered, 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.
THIRD MESSENGER	So you had need. Fore Orléans, 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.
(didascalia)	Exit
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. Exit
GLOUCESTER	I’ll to the Tower with all the haste I can, To view th’artillery and munition, And then I will proclaim young Henry king. Exit
EXETER	To Eltham will I, where the young King is, Being ordained his special governor, And for his safety there I’ll best devise. Exit
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. Exit

Atto 1, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound a flourish. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou, marching with drummer 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 Orléans Otherwhiles the famished English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. ALENÇON They want their porrage 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. RENÉ Let’s raise the siege. Why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear. Remaineth none but mad-brained Salisbury, And he may well in fretting spend his gall: Nor men nor money hath he to make war.
(didascalia)	Sound, sound, alarum! We will rush on them.
CHARLES	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 flee. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Here alarum. The French are beaten back by the English with great loss. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou
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. RENÉ 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. ALENÇON Froissart, a countryman of ours, records England all Olivers and Rolands 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-brained 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. RENÉ I think by some odd gimmers or device Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on, Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do. By my consent we’ll even let them alone. ALENÇON Be it SO.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bastard of Orléans
BASTARD	Where’s the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.
CHARLES	Bastard of Orléans, thrice welcome to us.
BASTARD	Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appalled. Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismayed, for succour 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. Exit Bastard But first, to try her skill, René 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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bastard of Orléans with Joan la Pucelle, armed
CHARLES	RENÉ (as Charles) Fair maid, is’t thou wilt do these wondrous feats?
JOAN	René, is’t thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the Dauphin? (To Charles) 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.
(didascalia)	René, Alençon and Bastard stand apart
(didascalia)	RENÉ to Alençon and Bastard
JOAN	She takes upon her bravely, at first dash.
JOAN	Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd’s daughter, My wit untrained 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 displayed my cheeks, God’s mother deigned to appear to me, And in a vision, full of majesty, Willed me to leave my base vocation And free my country from calamity. Her aid she promised, and assured success. In complete glory she revealed herself— And whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infused on me That beauty am I blest with, which you may see. Ask me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer unpremeditated. My courage try by combat, if thou dar’st, 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 astonished me with thy high terms. Only this proof I’ll of thy valour make: In single combat thou shalt buckle with me. An if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; Otherwise, I renounce all confidence.
JOAN	I am prepared. Here is my keen-edged sword, Decked with five flower-de-luces on each side— The which at Touraine, in Saint Katherine’s churchyard, Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.
CHARLES	Then come a God’s name. I fear no woman.
JOAN	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	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	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.
(didascalia)	RENÉ to the other lords apart
CHARLES	My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. ALENÇON Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock, Else ne’er could he so long protract his speech. RENÉ Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean? ALENÇON He may mean more than we poor men do know. These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. RENÉ (to Charles) My lord, where are you? What devise you on? Shall we give o’er Orléans, or no?
JOAN	Why, no, I say. Distrustful recreants, Fight till the last gasp; I’ll be your guard.
CHARLES	What she says, I’ll confirm. We’ll fight it out.
JOAN	Assigned am I to be the English scourge. This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise. Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon’s 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 naught. 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 bore at once.
CHARLES	Was Mohammed 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? ALENÇON Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege. RENÉ Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours. Drive them from Orléans, and be immortalized.
CHARLES	Presently we’ll try. Come, let’s away about it. No prophet will I trust, if she prove false. Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Gloucester, with his Servingmen 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?
(didascalia)	A Servingman knocketh on the gates
GLOUCESTER	Open the gates: ’tis Gloucester that calls.
(didascalia)	FIRST WARDER within the Tower
GLOUCESTER	Who’s there that knocketh so imperiously?
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.
(didascalia)	SECOND WARDER within the Tower
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	Whoe’er he be, you may not be let in.
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	Villains, answer you so the Lord Protector?
(didascalia)	FIRST WARDER within the Tower
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	The Lord protect him, so we answer him. We do no otherwise than we are willed.
GLOUCESTER	Who willèd you? Or whose will stands, but mine? There’s none Protector of the realm but I. (To Servingmen) 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
(didascalia)	WOODVILLE within the Tower
GLOUCESTER	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.
(didascalia)	WOODVILLE within the Tower
GLOUCESTER	Have patience, noble duke: I may not open. My lord of Winchester forbids. From him I have express commandëment That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in.
GLOUCESTER	Faint-hearted Woodville! 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.
SERVINGMEN	Open the gates unto the Lord Protector, Or we’ll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.
(didascalia)	Enter, to the Lord Protector at the Tower gates, the Bishop of Winchester and his men in tawny coats
WINCHESTER	How now, ambitious vizier! What means this?
GLOUCESTER	Peeled priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?
WINCHESTER	I do, thou most usurping proditor, And not ‘Protector’, of the King or realm.
GLOUCESTER	Stand back, thou manifest conspirator. Thou that contrived’st to murder our dead lord, Thou that giv’st whores indulgences to sin, If thou proceed in this thy insolence—
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 purple robes, as a child’s bearing-cloth, I’ll use to carry thee out of this place.
WINCHESTER	Do what thou dar’st, I beard thee to thy face.
GLOUCESTER	What, am I dared and bearded to my face? Draw, men, for all this privileged place. All draw their swords Blue coats to tawny coats!—Priest, beware your beard. I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly. Under my feet I’ll stamp thy bishop’s mitre. In spite of Pope, or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the Pope.
GLOUCESTER	Winchester goose! I cry, ‘A rope, a rope!’ (To his Servingmen) Now beat them hence. Why do you let them stay? (To Winchester) Thee I’ll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep’s array. Out, tawny coats! Out, cloaked hypocrite! Here Gloucester’s men beat out the Bishop’s men.
(didascalia)	Enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London and
GLOUCESTER	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 distrained the Tower to his use.
WINCHESTER	(to Mayor) 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 the factions 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, cry.
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. The skirmishes cease
GLOUCESTER	Bishop, I’ll be no breaker of the law. But we shall meet and break our minds at large.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, we’ll 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. (Aside) This bishop is more haughty than the devil.
GLOUCESTER	Mayor, farewell. Thou dost but what thou mayst.
WINCHESTER	Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head, For I intend to have it ere long.
(didascalia)	Exeunt both factions severally
MAYOR	(to Officers) See the coast cleared, and then we will depart.— Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear! I myself fight not once in forty year.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 1, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Master Gunner of Orleans with his Boy
MASTER GUNNER	Sirrah, thou know’st how Orléans is besieged, And how the English have the suburbs won.
BOY	Father, I know, and oft have shot at them; Howe’er, unfortunate, I missed 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 spials have informed me How the English, in the suburbs close entrenched, 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 watched, 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—
(didascalia)	Exit Master Gunner at one door
BOY	I’ll never trouble you, if I may spy them.
(didascalia)	Exit at the other door

Atto 1, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Salisbury and Lord Talbot above on the turrets with others, among them Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glasdale
SALISBURY	Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned? 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, Called 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 bartered me— Which I, disdaining, scorned, and craved death Rather than I would be so pilled esteemed. In fine, redeemed I was, as I desired. But O, the treacherous Fastolf 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 entertained.
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 digged 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 deemed me not secure: So great fear of my name ’mongst them were 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.
(didascalia)	The Boy passes over the stage with a linstock
SALISBURY	I grieve to hear what torments you endured. But we will be revenged sufficiently. Now it is supper time in Orléans. 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 Glasdale, Let me have your express opinions Where is best place to make our batt’ry next.
(didascalia)	They look through the grate
GARGRAVE	I think at the north gate, for there stands Lou.
GLASDALE	And I here, at the bulwark of the Bridge.
TALBOT	For aught I see, this city must be famished Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.
(didascalia)	Here they shoot off chambers within and Salisbury and Gargrave fall down
SALISBURY	O Lord have mercy on us, wretched sinners!
GARGRAVE	O Lord have mercy on me, woeful man!
TALBOT	What chance is this that suddenly hath crossed us? Speak, Salisbury—at least, if thou canst, speak. How far‘st 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 woeful tragedy! In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame; Henry the Fifth he first trained to the wars; Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up His sword did ne‘er leave striking in the field. Yet liv’st 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.— Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? Speak unto Talbot. Nay, look up to him.— Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.
(didascalia)	Exit one with Gargrave’s body
TALBOT	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?
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head. The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle joined, 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 pucelle, Dauphin or dog-fish, 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 carrying Salisbury

Atto 1, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Here an alarum again, and Lord Talbot pursueth the Dauphin and driveth him. Then enter Joan la Pucelle driving Englishmen before her and exeunt. Then enter Lord 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 men.
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle
TALBOT	Here, here she comes. (To Joan) 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 serv’st.
JOAN	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	Talbot, farewell. Thy hour is not yet come. I must go victual Orléans forthwith.
(didascalia)	A short alarum, then the French pass over the stage and enter the town with soldiers
JOAN	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.
(didascalia)	Exit into the town
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 called us, for our fierceness, English dogs; Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.
(didascalia)	A short alarum. Enter English soldiers
TALBOT	Hark, countrymen: either renew the fight Or tear the lions out of England’s coat. Renounce your style; 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-subduèd slaves.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Here another skirmish
TALBOT	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 entered into Orléans In spite of us or aught that we could do.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Soldiers
TALBOT	O would I were to die with Salisbury! The shame hereof will make me hide my head.
(didascalia)	Exit. Alarum. Retreat

Atto 1, Scena 8

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter on the walls Joan la Pucelle, Charles the Dauphin, René Duke of Anjou, the Duke of Alençon and French Soldiers with colours
JOAN	Advance our waving colours on the walls; Rescued is Orléans from the English. Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word.
CHARLES	Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter, How shall I honour thee for this success? Thy promises are like Adonis’ garden, That one day bloomed and fruitful were the next. France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess! Recovered is the town of Orléans. More blessed hap did ne’er befall our state. RENÉ 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. ALENÇON All France will be replete with mirth and joy When they shall hear how we have played 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 pyramid to her I’ll rear Than Rhodope’s of Memphis ever was. In memory of her, when she is dead Her ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich-jewelled coffer 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

Atto 2, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter on the walls a French 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.
(didascalia)	A SENTINEL
SERGEANT	Sergeant, you shall. Exit Sergeant Thus are poor servitors, When others sleep upon their quiet beds, Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot, the Dukes of Bedford and Burgundy, and soldiers 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 arms’ 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 yon corner.
BURGUNDY	And I to this.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally Bedford and Burgundy with some soldiers
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.
(didascalia)	Talbot and his soldiers scale the walls
(didascalia)	SENTINELS
TALBOT	Arm! Arm! The enemy doth make assault!
ENGLISH SOLDIERS	Saint George! A Talbot! Exeunt above
(didascalia)	Alarum. The French soldiers leap o’er the walls in their shirts and exeunt. Enter several ways the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou, half ready and half unready
ENGLISH SOLDIERS	ALENÇON How now, my lords? What, all unready so?
BASTARD	Unready? Ay, and glad we scaped so well. RENÉ ‘Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, Hearing alarums at our chamber doors. ALENÇON Of all exploits since first I followed arms Ne’er heard I of a warlike enterprise More venturous or desperate than this.
BASTARD	I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. RENÉ If not of hell, the heavens sure favour him. ALENÇON Here cometh Charles. I marvel how he sped.
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin and Joan la Pucelle
BASTARD	Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.
CHARLES	(to Joan) 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	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 Alençon, this was your default, That, being captain of the watch tonight, Did look no better to that weighty charge. ALENÇON Had all your quarters been as safely kept As that whereof I had the government, We had not been thus shamefully surprised.
BASTARD	Mine was secure. RENÉ And so was mine, my lord.
CHARLES	And for myself, most part of all this night
(didascalia)	Within her quarter and mine own precinct
CHARLES	I was employed in passing to and fro About relieving of the sentinels. Then how or which way should they first break in?
JOAN	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, scattered and dispersed, And lay new platforms to endamage them.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter an English Soldier
ENGLISH SOLDIER	A Talbot! A Talbot! The French fly, leaving their clothes behind
ENGLISH 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. Exit with spoils

Atto 2, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot, the Dukes of Bedford and Burgundy, a Captain, and soldiers
BEDFORD	The day begins to break and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle overveiled the earth. Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit.
(didascalia)	Retreat is sounded
TALBOT	Bring forth the body of old Salisbury And here advance it in the market place, The middle centre of this cursed town.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
TALBOT	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 happened in revenge of him,
(didascalia)	Within their chiefest temple I’ll erect
TALBOT	A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interred— Upon the which, that everyone may read, Shall be engraved the sack of Orléans, 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.
(didascalia)	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 encountered 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 overruled.— 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, ‘tis more than manners will. And I have heard it said, ‘Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone’.
TALBOT	Well then, atone—since there’s no remedy— I mean to prove this lady’s courtesy. Come hither, captain. He whispers You perceive my mind?
CAPTAIN	I do, my lord, and mean accordingly.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 2, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess of Auvergne and her Porter
COUNTESS	Porter, remember what I gave in charge, And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
PORTER	Madam, I will. Exit
COUNTESS	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 rumour 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Messenger and Lord Talbot
MESSENGER	Madam, according as your ladyship desired, By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.
COUNTESS	And he is welcome. What, is this the man?
MESSENGER	Madam, it is.
COUNTESS	Is this the scourge of France? Is this the Talbot, so much feared 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 seely 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. He is going
COUNTESS	(to Messenger) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Porter with keys
COUNTESS	If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
TALBOT	Prisoner? To whom?
COUNTESS	To me, bloodthirsty 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!
COUNTESS	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.
COUNTESS	Why? Art not thou the man?
TALBOT	I am indeed.
COUNTESS	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.
COUNTESS	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. He winds his horn. Within, drums strike up; a peal of ordnance. Enter English 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.
COUNTESS	Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse. I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, And more than may be gathered 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 dismayed, fair lady, nor misconster 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.
COUNTESS	With all my heart; and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt

Atto 2, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A rose brier. Enter Richard Plantagenet, the Earl of Warwick, the Duke of Somerset, William de la Pole (the Earl of Suffolk), Vernon, and a Lawyer
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence? Dare no man answer in a case of truth?
(didascalia)	Within the Temple hall we were too loud.
SUFFOLK	The garden here is more convenient.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Then say at once if I maintained the truth; Or else was wrangling Somerset in th’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.
RICHARD 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 apparelled, So clear, so shining, and so evident, That it will glimmer through a blind man’s eye.
RICHARD 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 briar pluck a white rose with me. He plucks a white rose
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. He plucks a red rose
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 from the tree are cropped Shall yield the other in the right opinion.
SOMERSET	Good Master Vernon, it is well objected. If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	And I.
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 law; In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Now Somerset, where is your argument?
SOMERSET	Here in my scabbard, meditating that Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?
SOMERSET	Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD 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?
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	My father was attached, not attainted; Condemned to die for treason, but no traitor— And that I’ll prove on better men than Somerset, Were growing time once ripened 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 warned.
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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I forever, 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. Exit
SOMERSET	Have with thee, Pole.—Farewell, ambitious Richard.
(didascalia)	Exit
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, Called for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester. An 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 today, 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.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Thanks, gentles. Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say This quarrel will drink blood another day.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. The rose brier is removed

Atto 2, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Edmund Mortimer, brought in a chair by his Keepers
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, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer, Nestor-like aged in an age of care. 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?
KEEPER	Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber, And answer was returned 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Plantagenet
KEEPER	My lord, your loving nephew now is come.
MORTIMER	Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used: Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes.
MORTIMER	(to Keepers) 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. He embraces Richard And now declare, sweet stem from York’s great stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despised?
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	First lean thine aged back against mine arm, And in that ease I’ll tell thee my dis-ease. 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 imprisoned me, And hath detained me all my flow’ring youth
(didascalia)	Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,
MORTIMER	Was cursed instrument of his decease.
RICHARD 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, Endeavoured 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 the King 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, 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 installed 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 suppressed.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD 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 cloyed With long continuance in a settled place.
RICHARD 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
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul. In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, And like a hermit overpassed 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Keepers with Mortimer’s body
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Choked with ambition of the meaner sort. And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, Which Somerset hath offered 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 mine ill th’advantage of my good. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 1

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter young King Henry, the Dukes of Exeter and Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester; the Duke of Somerset and the Earl of Suffolk with red roses; the Earl of Warwick and Richard Plantagenet with white roses. Gloucester offers to put up a bill; Winchester snatches it, tears it
WINCHESTER	Com‘st 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 dishonoured me. Think not, although in writing I preferred 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, 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 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—
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.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER Roam thither then.
(didascalia)	WARWICK (to Winchester)
WINCHESTER	My lord, it were your duty to forbear.
SOMERSET	Ay, so the bishop be not overborne: 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 touched so near.
WARWICK	State holy or unhallowed, what of that? Is not his grace Protector to the King?
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	(aside) Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue, Lest it be said, ‘Speak, sirrah, when you should; Must your bold verdict intertalk 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.
(didascalia)	A noise within
(didascalia)	SERVINGMEN (within) Down with the tawny coats!
KING HENRY	What tumult’s this?
WARWICK	An uproar, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishop’s men.
(didascalia)	A noise again
(didascalia)	SERVINGMEN (within) Stones, stones!
(didascalia)	Enter the Mayor of London
MAYOR	O my good lords, and virtuous Henry, Pity the city of London, pity us! so The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester’s men, Forbidden late to carry any weapon, Have filled 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 knocked out. Our windows are broke down in every street, And we for fear compelled to shut our shops.
(didascalia)	Enter in skirmish, with bloody pates, Winchester’s Servingmen in tawny coats and Gloucester’s in blue coats
KING HENRY	We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaught’ring hands and keep the peace.
(didascalia)	The skirmish ceases
KING HENRY	Pray, Uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.
FIRST SERVINGMAN	Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we’ll fall to it with our teeth.
SECOND SERVINGMAN	Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. Skirmish again
GLOUCESTER	You of my household, leave this peevish broil, And set this unaccustomed fight aside.
THIRD SERVINGMAN	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 SERVINGMAN	Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field when we are dead. They begin to skirmish again
GLOUCESTER	Stay, stay, I say! An if you love me as you say you do, Let me persuade you to forbear a while.
KING HENRY	O how this discord doth afflict my soul! Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold o 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 banished 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	(to Winchester) 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. (To the others) 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	So help me God (aside) as I intend it not.
KING HENRY	O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester, How joyful am I made by this contract! (To Servingmen) Away, my masters, trouble us no more, But join in friendship as your lords have done. first SERVINGMAN Content. I’ll to the surgeon’s.
SECOND SERVINGMAN	And so will I.
THIRD SERVINGMAN	And I will see what physic the tavern affords. Exeunt the Mayor and Servingmen
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—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 recompensed.
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. 170
RICHARD 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. Richard kneels 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(rising) 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 BUT RICHARD AND	SOMERSET 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 crowned 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.
(didascalia)	Sennet. 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 festered 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 should lose all’— Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish His days may finish, ere that hapless time. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle, disguised, with four French Soldiers with sacks upon their backs
JOAN	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. A SOLDIER Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Rouen. Therefore we’ll knock. They knock
WATCH	(within) Qui là?
JOAN	Paysans, la pauvre gens de France: Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.
WATCH	(opening the gates)
(didascalia)	Enter, go in. The market bell is rung.
JOAN	(aside) Now, Rouen, I’ll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, René Duke of Anjou, and French soldier
CHARLES	Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem, And once again we’ll sleep secure in Rouen.
BASTARD	Here entered Pucelle and her practisants. Now she is there, how will she specify ‘Here is the best and safest passage in’?
RENE	By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower— Which, once discerned, shows that her meaning is: No way to that, for weakness, which she entered.
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle on the top, thrusting out a torch burning
JOAN	Behold, this is the happy wedding torch That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, But burning fatal to the Talbonites.
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!
RENE	Defer no time; delays have dangerous ends.
(didascalia)	Enter and cry, ‘The Dauphin!’, presently,
RENE	And then do execution on the watch. Alarum. Exeunt

Atto 3, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	An alarum. Enter Lord Talbot in an excursion
TALBOT	France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, If Talbot but survive thy treachery. Pucelle, that witch, that damnèd sorceress, Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, That hardly we escaped the pride of France. Exit

Atto 3, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	An alarum. Excursions. The Duke of Bedford brought in sick, in a chair. Enter Lord Talbot and the Duke of Burgundy, without, within, Joan la Pucelle, Charles the Dauphin, the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou on the walls
JOAN	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 courtesan. 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	What will you do, good graybeard? Break a lance And run a-tilt at death within a chair?
TALBOT	Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite, Encompassed 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	Are ye so hot, sir?—Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace. If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. The English whisper together in counsel God speed the parliament; who shall be the Speaker?
TALBOT	Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
JOAN	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, Alençon, and the rest. Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? ALENÇON Seignieur, no.
TALBOT	Seignieur, hang! Base muleteers of France, Like peasant footboys do they keep the walls And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
JOAN	Away, captains, let’s get us from the walls, For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. Goodbye, my lord. We came but to tell you That we are here. Exeunt French 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, Pricked on by public wrongs sustained 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 Cceur-de-lion’s heart was burièd— 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. (To 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 vanquishèd 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.
(didascalia)	Exit with Burgundy
TALBOT	An alarum. Excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolf and a Captain
CAPTAIN	Whither away, Sir John Fastolf, in such haste?
FASTOLF	Whither away? To save myself by flight. We are like to have the overthrow again.
CAPTAIN	What, will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?
FASTOLF	Ay, all the Talbots in the world, to save my life. Exit
CAPTAIN	Cowardly knight, ill fortune follow thee! Exit
(didascalia)	Retreat. Excursions. Joan, Alençon, 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

Atto 3, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	An alarum. Enter Lord Talbot, the Duke of Burgundy, and the rest of the English soldiers
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 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 fulfilled 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

Atto 3, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, Joan la Pucelle, and French soldiers
JOAN	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	(to Joan) Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world. ALENÇON (to Joan) 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	Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: By fair persuasions mixed with sugared words We will entice the Duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot and to follow us. 20
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 extirpèd from our provinces. ALENÇON For ever should they be expulsed from France And not have title of an earldom here.
JOAN	Your honours shall perceive how I will work To bring this matter to the wished end.
(didascalia)	Drum sounds afar off
JOAN	Hark, by the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. Here sound an English march There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him. Here sound a French march Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his; Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a parley. We will talk with him.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound a
JOAN	parley
(didascalia)	CHARLES calling
JOAN	A parley with the Duke of Burgundy.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Burgundy
BURGUNDY	Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?
JOAN	The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.
BURGUNDY	What sayst thou, Charles?—for I am marching hence.
CHARLES	Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.
JOAN	Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France, Stay. Let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
BURGUNDY	Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
JOAN	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 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.
(didascalia)	BURGUNDY aside
JOAN	Either she hath bewitched me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
JOAN	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 fashioned 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 Orléans 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.
(didascalia)	BURGUNDY aside
JOAN	I am vanquished. These haughty words of hers Have battered me like roaring cannon-shot And made me almost yield upon my knees. (To the others) 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.
(didascalia)	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. ALENÇON Pucelle hath bravely played 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
(didascalia)	3.8 Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Duke of Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Exeter; Richard Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, and Vernon with white roses; the Earl of Suffolk, the Duke of Somerset, and Basset with red roses. To them, with his soldiers, enter Lord Talbot
TALBOT	My gracious prince and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm I have a while given truce unto my wars To do my duty to my sovereign; In sign whereof, this arm that hath reclaimed 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.
(didascalia)	He 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	(to Talbot) 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 resolvèd of your truth, Your faithful service and your toil in war, Yet never have you tasted our reward, Or been reguerdoned with so much as thanks, Because till now we never saw your face. Therefore stand up, Talbot rises and for these good deserts We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place.
(didascalia)	Sennet. 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. Vernon 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
(didascalia)	4.1 Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Duke of Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Exeter,; Richard Duke of York, and the Earl of Warwick with white roses; the Earl of Suffolk and the Duke of Somerset with red roses; Lord Talbot, and the Governor of Paris
GLOUCESTER	Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head.
WINCHESTER	God save King Henry, of that name the sixth I Winchester crowns the King
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 practices against his state. This shall ye do, so help you righteous God.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Fastolf with a letter
FASTOLF	My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais To haste unto your coronation A letter was delivered to my hands,
(didascalia)	He presents the letters
FASTOLF	Writ to your grace from th’ Duke of Burgundy.
TALBOT	Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee! I vowed, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the Garter from thy craven’s leg, He tears it off Which I have done because unworthily Thou wast installèd 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 ordained, 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 furnished 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	(to Fastolf) 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.
(didascalia)	Exit Fastolf
KING HENRY	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 wrack Together with the pitiful complaints Of such as your oppression feeds upon, Forsaken your pernicious faction And joined 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. (To Talbot) How say you, my lord? Are you not content?
TALBOT	Content, my liege? Yes. But that I am prevented, I should have begged I might have been employed.
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
(didascalia)	Enter Vernon wearing a white rose, and Basset wearing a red rose
VERNON	(to King Henry) Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign.
BASSET	(to King Henry) And me, my lord; grant me the combat, too.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(to King Henry, pointing to Vernon) This is my servant; hear him, noble Prince.
SOMERSET	(to King Henry, pointing to Basset) 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 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 Bewrayed the faintness of my master’s heart.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	There is my pledge. Accept it, Somerset.
VERNON	(to King Henry) Nay, let it rest where it began at first.
BASSET	(to King Henry) 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	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 Destroyed 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, He takes a red rose That anyone 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 crowned. 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, Alençon, and that traitorous rout.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but York, Warwick,
KING HENRY	Vernon, and Exeter
WARWICK	My lord of York, I promise you, the King Prettily, methought, did play the orator.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	An if I wist he did—but let it rest. Other affairs must now be managed.
(didascalia)	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 deciphered 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 ruin, there begins confusion. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot with a trumpeter and drummer and soldiers before Bordeaux
TALBOT	Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter. Summon their general unto the wall. The trumpeter sounds a parley. Enter French General, aloft English John Talbot, captain, 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 proffered 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 pitched 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 fire their dangerous artillery Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man Of an invincible unconquered 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.
(didascalia)	Drum afar off
GENERAL	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.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
TALBOT	O negligent and heedless discipline, How are we parked 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! Exeunt

Atto 4, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger that meets the Duke of York. Enter Richard Duke of York with a trumpeter and many soldiers
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Are not the speedy scouts returned again That dogged the mighty army of the Dauphin?
MESSENGER	They are returned, my lord, and give it out That he is marched to Bordeaux with his power To fight with Talbot. As he marched along, By your espials were discovered Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, Which joined with him and made their march for Bordeaux.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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!
(didascalia)	Enter another messenger, 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 waste of iron And hemmed about with grim destruction. To Bordeaux, warlike Duke; to Bordeaux, York, Else farewell Talbot, France, and England’s honour.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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 distressed lord.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have To bid his young son welcome to his grave? Away—vexation almost stops my breath That sundered 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, Poitiers, and Tours are won away ’Long all of Somerset and his delay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Lucy
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,
(didascalia)	Lives, honours, lands, and all hurry to loss. Exit

Atto 4, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Somerset with his army
SOMERSET	(to a Captain) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucy
CAPTAIN	Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o’ermatched forces forth for aid.
SOMERSET	How now, Sir William, whither were you sent?
LUCY	Whither, my lord? From bought and sold Lord Talbot, Who, ringed 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, unadvantaged, 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. Orléans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alençon, René, 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 horse 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 entrapped the noble-minded Talbot. Never to England shall he bear his life, But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife.
SOMERSET	Come, go. I will dispatch the horsemen straight.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Atto 4, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot and his son John
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	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, 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	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 saved in thee.
JOHN	No part of him but will be shamed 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 your self 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

Atto 4, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions, wherein Lord Talbot’s son John is hemmed about by French soldiers and Talbot rescues him. The English drive off the French
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? (To John) Pause and take thy breath. I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death.
JOHN	O twice my father, twice am I thy son: The life thou gav‘st me first was lost and done Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, To my determined time thou gav’st new date.
TALBOT	When from the Dauphin’s crest thy sword struck fire It warmed thy father’s heart with proud desire Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age, Quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage, Beat down Alençon, Orléans, Burgundy, And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. The ireful Bastard Orléans, 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 sealed 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 today die not with Frenchmen’s rage, Tomorrow I shall die with mickle age. By me they nothing gain, and 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.
JOHN	The sword of Orléans 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.
TALBOT	Then follow thou thy desp’rate 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

Atto 4, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Lord 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 smeared with captivity, Young Talbot’s valour makes me smile at thee. When he perceived me shrink and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandished over me, And like a hungry lion did commence Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience. But when my angry guardant stood alone, Tend‘ring my ruin and assailed of none, Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clust’ring 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.
(didascalia)	Enter English soldiers with John Talbot’s body, borne
SERVANT	O my odear lord, lo where your son is borne.
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. (To John) O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured 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 today’. Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms. Soldiers lay John in Talbot’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.
(didascalia)	He dies. Alarum. Exeunt soldiers leaving the bodies
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the dukes of Alencon and Burgundy, the Bastard of Orléans, and Joan la Pucelle
CHARLES	Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, We should have found a bloody day of this.
BASTARD	How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging wood, Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
JOAN	Once I encountered him, and thus I said: ‘Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.’ But with a proud, majestical high scorn He answered 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 inhearsèd in the arms Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
BASTARD	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir William Lucy with a French herald
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 Wexford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrich 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 Maréchal to Henry the Sixth Of all his wars within the realm of France?
JOAN	Here’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 magnifi’st with all these titles Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
LUCY	Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen’s only scourge, Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis? O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turned, 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	(to Charles) I think this upstart is old Talbot’s ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God’s sake let him have them. 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 reared A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
CHARLES	So we be rid of them, do with them what thou wilt.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lucy and herald with the bodies
CHARLES	And now to Paris in this conquering vein. All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain. Exeunt
(didascalia)	5.1 Sennet. Enter King Henry, the Dukes of Gloucester and Exeter, and others
KING HENRY	(to Gloucester) 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	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	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	Marriage, uncle? Alas, my years are young, And fitter is my study and my books Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
(didascalia)	Yet call th’ambassadors, Exit one or more
KING HENRY	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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bishop of Winchester, now in cardinal’s habit, and three ambassadors, one a Papal Legate
EXETER	(aside) What, is my lord of Winchester installed And called 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	My lords ambassadors, your several suits Have been considered and debated on. Your purpose is both good and reasonable, 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.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER to ambassadors
KING HENRY	And for the proffer of my lord your master, I have informed 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.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to ambassadors
KING HENRY	In argument and proof of which contract Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. (To Gloucester) And so, my lord Protector, see them guarded And safely brought to Dover, wherein shipped, Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally all but Winchester and Legate
WINCHESTER	Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive The sum of money which I promised Should be delivered to his holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
(didascalia)	I will attend upon your lordship’s leisure. Exit
WINCHESTER	Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive That nor in birth or for authority The Bishop will be overborne by thee. I’ll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
(didascalia)	Or sack this country with a mutiny. Exit

Atto 5, Scena 2

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin reading a letter, the Dukes of Burgundy and Alençon, the Bastard of Orléans, René Duke of Anjou, and oan la Pucelle
CHARLES	These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits. ‘Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt And turn again unto the warlike French. ALENÇON Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France, And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
JOAN	Peace be amongst them if they turn to us; Else, ruin combat with their palaces!
(didascalia)	Enter a 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.
(didascalia)	JOAN
BURGUNDY	Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. 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! Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 3

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter Joan la Pucelle
JOAN	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.
(didascalia)	Thunder
JOAN	You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north, Appear, and aid me in this enterprise.
(didascalia)	Enter Fiends
JOAN	This speed and quick appearance argues proof Of your accustomed diligence to me. Now, ye familiar spirits that are culled 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 overlong! Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I’ll lop a member off and give it you In earnest of a 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. Exit

Atto 5, Scena 4

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Excursions. The Dukes of Burgundy and York fight hand to hand. The French fly. Joan la Pucelle is taken
RICHARD DUKE OF 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!
(didascalia)	To his soldiers See how the ugly witch doth bend her
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	brows, 5 As if with Circe she would change my shape.
JOAN	Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man. No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
JOAN	A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee, And may ye both be suddenly surprised By bloody hands in sleeping on your beds!
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue.
JOAN	I prithee give me leave to curse awhile.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 5

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter the Earl of Suffolk with Margaret in his hand
SUFFOLK	Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. He gazes on her O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly, For I will touch thee but with reverent hands, And lay them gently on thy tender side. I kiss these fingers for eternal peace. 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 called. Be not offended, nature’s miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta’en by me. So doth the swan his downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoner underneath his wings. Yet if this servile usage once offend, Go, and be free again, as Suffolk’s friend. She is going O stay! (Aside) 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 stream, 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 to hear? 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	(aside) 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	(aside) She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.
MARGARET	Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea or no?
SUFFOLK	(aside) Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
MARGARET	(aside) I were best to leave him, for he will not hear.
SUFFOLK	(aside) There all is marred; there lies a cooling card.
MARGARET	(aside) He talks at random; sure the man is mad.
SUFFOLK	(aside) And yet a dispensation may be had.
MARGARET	And yet I would that you would answer me.
SUFFOLK	(aside) I’ll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why, for my king—tush, that’s a wooden thing.
MARGARET	(aside) He talks of wood. It is some carpenter.
SUFFOLK	(aside) 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	(aside) It shall be so, disdain they ne’er so much. Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. (To Margaret) Madam, I have a secret to reveal.
MARGARET	(aside) What though I be enthralled, he seems a knight And will not any way dishonour me.
SUFFOLK	Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
MARGARET	(aside) Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French, And then I need not crave his courtesy.
SUFFOLK	Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause.
MARGARET	(aside) 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—
MARGARET	What?
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 (Aside) 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,
(didascalia)	Enter captains, colours, and trumpeters
SUFFOLK	And, madam, at your father’s castle walls We’ll crave a parley to confer with him.
(didascalia)	Sound a parley. Enter René Duke of Anjou on the walls
SUFFOLK	See, Rene, see thy daughter prisoner. RENÉ To whom ?
SUFFOLK	To me. RENÉ 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. Assent, and for thy honour give consent Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king, Whom I with pain have wooed and won thereto; And this her easy-held imprisonment Hath gained thy daughter princely liberty. RENÉ Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
SUFFOLK	Fair Margaret knows That Suffolk doth not flatter, face or feign. RENÉ Upon thy princely warrant I descend To give thee answer of thy just demand.
(didascalia)	And here I will expect thy coming. Exit Rene above
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Enter René
RENE	Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories. Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
SUFFOLK	Thanks, René, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king. What answer makes your grace unto my suit? RENÉ 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 countries 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. RENÉ And I again in Henry’s royal name, As deputy unto that gracious king, Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.
SUFFOLK	René of France, I give thee kingly thanks, Because this is in traffic of a king. (Aside) And yet methinks I could be well content To be mine own attorney in this case. (To René) I’ll over then to England with this news, And make this marriage to be solemnized. So farewell, René; set this diamond safe In golden palaces, as it becomes. RENÉ I do embrace thee as I would embrace The Christian prince King Henry, were he here.
MARGARET	(to Suffolk) Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and prayers Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. She is going
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.
(didascalia)	She is going
SUFFOLK	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. He kisses her
MARGARET	That for thyself; I will not so presume To send such peevish tokens to a king.
(didascalia)	Exeunt René and Margaret
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK aside
MARGARET	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, Mad natural graces that extinguish art. Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That when thou com’st to kneel at Henry’s feet Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 6

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, and a Shepherd
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Bring forth that sorceress condemned to burn.
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle guarded
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	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’t 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 bach’lorship.
WARWICK	(to Joan) Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage?
RICHARD DUKE OF 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	Peasant, avaunt! (To the English) You have suborned this man Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.
SHEPHERD	(to the English) ‘Tis true I gave a noble to the priest The morn that I was wedded to her mother. (To Joan) 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 sucked’st her breast Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake. Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee. Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? (To the English) O burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good. Exit
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(to guards) Take her away, for she hath lived too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.
JOAN	First let me tell you whom you have condemned: Not one 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, Stained 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Ay, ay, (to guards) away with her to execution.
WARWICK	(to guards) And hark ye, sirs: because she is a maid, Spare for no faggots. Let there be enough. Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, That so her torture may be shortened.
JOAN	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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Now heaven forfend—the holy maid with child?
WARWICK	(to Joan) The greatest miracle that e’er ye wrought. Is all your strict preciseness come to this?
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	She and the Dauphin have been ingling. I did imagine what would be her refuge.
WARWICK	Well, go to, we will have no bastards live, Especially since Charles must father it.
JOAN	You are deceived. My child is none of his. It was Alençon that enjoyed my love.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Alençon, that notorious Machiavel? It dies an if it had a thousand lives.
JOAN	O give me leave, I have deluded you. ‘Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I named, But René King of Naples that prevailed.
WARWICK	A married man?—That’s most intolerable.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	And yet forsooth she is a virgin pure! (To joan) Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee. Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
JOAN	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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bishop of Winchester, now Cardinal
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(to Joan) Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell.
(didascalia)	Exit Joan, guarded
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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Is all our travail turned 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, the Bastard of Orléans, and René Duke of Anjou
CHARLES	Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed That peaceful truce shall be proclaimed in France, We come to be informed by yourselves What the conditions of that league must be.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes The hollow passage of my poisoned voice By sight of these our baleful enemies.
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 and submit thyself, Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, And still enjoy thy regal dignity. ALENÇON 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 possessed With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverenced for their lawful king. Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquished, Detract so much from that prerogative As to be called 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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. RENÉ (aside to Charles) 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. ALENÇON (aside to Charles) 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 sayst thou, Charles? Shall our condition stand?
CHARLES	It shall, Only reserved you claim no interest In any of our towns of garrison.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
(didascalia)	They swear
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	So, now dismiss your army when ye please. Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still; For here we entertain a solemn peace. Exeunt

Atto 5, Scena 7

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Suffolk, in conference with King Henry, and the Dukes of Gloucester and Exeter
KING HENRY	(to Suffolk) Your wondrous rare description, noble Earl, Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me. Her virtues gracèd with external gifts Do breed love’s settled passions in my heart, And like as rigour 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	And otherwise will Henry ne‘er presume. (To Gloucester) Therefore, my lord Protector, give consent That Marg’ret may be England’s royal queen.
GLOUCESTER	So should I give consent to flatter sin. You know, my lord, your highness is betrothed 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 vowed 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, my 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 René 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 to 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, That most of all these reasons bindeth us: In our opinions she should be preferred. 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 linked in love. Then yield, my lords, and here conclude with me: That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she.
KING HENRY	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 crowned 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. (To Gloucester) 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.
(didascalia)	Exit with Exeter
GLOUCESTER	Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. Exit
SIIEFOLK	Thus Suffolk hath prevailed, 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. Exit
BY WILLIAM	SHAKESPEARE, WITH GEORGE PEELE
SHAKESPEARE’S	first, most sensation-packed tragedy appeared in print, anonymously, in 1594, and a performance record dating from January of that year appears to indicate that it was then a new play. But according to its title-page it had been acted by three companies, one of which was bankrupt by the summer of 1593; and the play’s style, too, suggests that it was written earlier. During the later part of the twentieth century, scholars increasingly came round to the view that George Peele had a hand in, especially, the first act of the play. Shakespeare seems to have added a scene after its earliest performances, for Act 3, Scene 2 was first printed in the 1623 Folio. The 1594 performance record may refer to the revised play, not the original, or to the play’s first London performance after plague had closed the theatres from June 1592. By convention, Elizabethan tragedies treated historical subjects, and Titus Andronicus is set in Rome during the fourth century AD; but its story (like that of Shakespeare’s other early tragedy, Romeo and Juliet) is fictitious. Whether Shakespeare invented it is an open question: the same tale is told in both a ballad and a chap-book which survive only in eighteenth-century versions but which could derive from pre-Shakespearian originals. Even if Shakespeare knew these works, they could have supplied only a skeletal narrative. His play’s spirit and style owe much to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, one of his favourite works of classical literature, which he actually brings on stage in Act 4, Scene I. Ovid’s tale of the rape of Philomela was certainly in Shakespeare’s mind as he wrote, and the play’s more horrific elements owe something to the Roman dramatist Seneca. In its time, Titus Andronicus was popular, perhaps because it combines sensational incident with high-flown rhetoric of a kind that was fashionable around 1590. It tells a story of double revenge. Tamora, Queen of the Goths, seeks revenge on her captor, Titus, for the ritual slaughter of her son Alarbus; she achieves it when her other sons, Chiron and Demetrius, rape and mutilate Titus’ daughter, Lavinia. Later, Titus himself seeks revenge on Tamora and her husband, Saturninus, after Tamora’s black lover, Aaron, has falsely led him to believe that he can save his sons’ lives by allowing his own hand to be chopped off. Though he is driven to madness, Titus, with his brother Marcus and his last surviving son, Lucius, achieves a spectacular sequence of vengeance in which he cuts Tamora’s sons’ throats, serves their flesh baked in a pie to their mother, kills Lavinia to save her from her shame, and stabs Tamora to death. Then, in rapid succession, Saturninus kills Titus and is himself killed by Lucius, who, as the new Emperor, is left with Marcus to bury the dead, to punish Aaron, and ‘To heal Rome’s harms and wipe away her woe’. In Titus Andronicus, as in his early history plays, Shakespeare is at his most successful in the expression of grief and the portrayal of vigorously energetic evil. The play’s piling of horror upon horror can seem ludicrous, and the reader may be surprised by the apparent disjunction between terrifying events and the measured verse in which characters react; but a few remarkable modern productions have revealed that the play may still arouse pity as well as terror in its audiences.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY SATURNINUS, eldest son of the late Emperor of Rome; later Emperor BASSIANUS, his brother
TITUS	ANDRONICUS, a Roman nobleman, general against the Goths LAVINIA, daughter of Titus
YOUNG	LUCIUS, a boy, son of Lucius
MARCUS	ANDRONICUS, a tribune of the people, Titus’ brother PUBLIUS, his son A CAPTAIN
AEMILIUS	TAMORA, Queen of the Goths, later wife of Saturninus AARON, a Moor, her lover A NURSE A CLOWN Senators, tribunes, Romans, Goths, soldiers, and attendants

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Dead march. Enter the funeral of King Henry the Fifth, attended on by the Duke of Bedford (Regent of France), the Duke of Gloucester (Protector), the Duke of Exeter, the Earl of Warwick, the Bishop of Winchester, and the Duke of Somerset
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 brandished sword did blind men with his beams. His arms spread wider than a dragon’s wings. His sparkling eyes, replete with wrathful fire, More dazzled and drove back his enemies Than midday 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?
WINCHESTER	He was a king blest 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 prayed, His thread of life had not so soon decayed. None do you like but an effeminate prince, Whom like a schoolboy you may overawe.
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 lov‘st 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Warwick, Somerset, and heralds with coffin
BEDFORD	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’ moistened eyes, babes shall suck, Our isle be made a marish 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—
(didascalia)	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. Guyenne, Compiegne, Rouen, Rheims, Orléans, Paris, Gisors, Poitiers are all quite lost.
BEDFORD	What sayst thou, man, before dead Henry’s corpse? Speak softly, or the loss of those great towns Will make him burst his lead and rise from death.
GLOUCESTER	(to the Messenger) Is Paris lost? Is Rouen yielded up? If Henry were recalled to life again, These news would cause him once more yield the ghost.
EXETER	(to the Messenger) How were they lost? What treachery was used?
MESSENGER	No treachery, but want of men and money. Amongst the soldiers this is mutterèd: That here you maintain several factions, And whilst a field should be dispatched and fought, You are disputing of your generals. One would have ling’ring 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 obtained. Awake, awake, English nobility! Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot. Cropped are the flower-de-luces in your arms;
(didascalia)	Of England’s coat, one half is cut away. Exit
EXETER	Were our tears wanting to this funeral, These tidings would call forth her 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!
(didascalia)	He removes his mourning robe
BEDFORD	Wounds will I lend the French, instead of eyes, To weep their intermissive miseries.
(didascalia)	Enter to them another Messenger with letters
SECOND 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 in Rheims; The Bastard of Orléans with him is joined; René, Duke of Anjou, doth take his part; The Duke of Alençon flyeth to his side. Exit
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 mustered in my thoughts, Wherewith already France is overrun.
(didascalia)	Enter another Messenger
THIRD 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.
WINCHESTER	What, wherein Talbot overcame—is’t so?
THIRD 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 Orléans, 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 plucked 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 everywhere, enraged he slew. The French exclaimed 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 rushed into the bowels of the battle. Here had the conquest fully been sealed up, If Sir John Fastolf had not played the coward. He, being in the vanguard placed behind, With purpose to relieve and follow them, Cowardly fled, not having struck one stroke. Hence grew the general wrack and massacre. Enclosèd 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 betrayed.
THIRD MESSENGER	O no, he lives, but is took prisoner, And Lord Scales with him, and Lord Hungerford; Most of the rest slaughtered, 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.
THIRD MESSENGER	So you had need. Fore Orléans, 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.
(didascalia)	Exit
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. Exit
GLOUCESTER	I’ll to the Tower with all the haste I can, To view th’artillery and munition, And then I will proclaim young Henry king. Exit
EXETER	To Eltham will I, where the young King is, Being ordained his special governor, And for his safety there I’ll best devise. Exit
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. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Marcia funebre. Entra il corteo funebre di re Enrico Quinto, accompagnato dal Duca di Bedford (Reggente di Francia), dal Duca di Gloucester (Protettore), dal Duca di Exeter, dal Conte di Warwick, dal Vescovo di Winchester e dal Duca di Somerset
BEDFORD	Si paino di nero i cieli! Cedi, giorno, alla notte! Comete, presagio di mutar di tempi e stati, brandite le vostre chiome di cristallo nel cielo, e con esse flagellate le maligne stelle ribelli che han consentito alla morte di Enrico— re Enrico Quinto, troppo illustre per viver molto. Mai l’Inghilterra perdé un re di tanto pregio.
GLOUCESTER	Mai l’Inghilterra ebbe un re prima del suo tempo. Virtù egli avea, degna di comandare. La sua spada brandita accecava gli uomini co’ suoi raggi. Le sue braccia si stendevano più delle ali d’un drago. I suoi occhi scintillanti, colmi d’iracondo fuoco, più abbagliavano e respingevano i nemici che il sole a mezzogiorno, fiero contro i loro volti. Che dovrei dire? Le sue gesta eccedono ogni parola. Mai levò la mano se non per vincere.
EXETER	In nero noi piangiamo; perché non piangiamo nel sangue? Enrico è morto, e mai più risorgerà. Una bara di legno noi seguiamo, e della morte la vittoria disonorevole col nostro solenne corteo glorifichiamo, come prigionieri legati a un carro trionfale. Che? Malediremo i pianeti della sventura, che così tramarono la rovina della nostra gloria? O penseremo che i Francesi dall’ingegno sottile, maghi e stregoni, che di lui temevano, con versi di magia ne abbiano ordita la fine?
WINCHESTER	Fu un re benedetto dal Re dei Re. Ai Francesi il tremendo giorno del giudizio non sarà così tremendo come fu la sua vista. Le battaglie del Signor degli Eserciti egli combatté. Le preghiere della Chiesa lo fecero così prospero.
GLOUCESTER	La Chiesa? Dov’è dunque? Se gli uomini di chiesa non avessero pregato, il filo della sua vita non si sarebbe sì presto logorato. Nessuno vi piace se non un principe effeminato, che come uno scolaro possiate intimidire.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, che ci piaccia o no, tu sei Protettore, e miri a comandare il Principe e il regno. Tua moglie è superba: ti tiene in soggezione più di quanto possan Dio o i religiosi uomini di chiesa.
GLOUCESTER	Non nominar religione, ché tu ami la carne, e in tutto l’anno mai in chiesa tu vai, se non per pregare contro i tuoi nemici.
BEDFORD	Cessate, cessate queste risse, e riposino in pace le vostre menti. Andiamo all’altare. Araldi, seguiteci.
(didascalia)	Escono Warwick, Somerset e gli araldi con la bara
BEDFORD	Invece dell’oro, offriremo le nostre armi— poiché le armi nulla valgono, ora che Enrico è morto. Posterità, attenditi anni miserevoli, quando, agli occhi inumiditi delle madri, i bimbi suggeranno, la nostra isola sia fatta palude di salate lacrime, e non restino che donne a piangere i morti. Enrico Quinto, il tuo spirito io invoco: fa’ prosperare questo regno; guardalo dalle discordie civili; combatti nei cieli coi pianeti avversi. Una stella molto più gloriosa farà la tua anima che Giulio Cesare o il fulgido—
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Onorevoli signori, salute a voi tutti. Tristi novelle vi porto dalla Francia, di perdita, di strage e di disfatta. Guienna, Compiègne, Rouen, Reims, Orléans, Parigi, Gisors, Poitiers sono tutte perdute.
BEDFORD	Che dici tu, uomo, dinanzi al cadavere d’Enrico morto? Parla piano, o la perdita di quelle grandi città lo farà spezzare il piombo e sorgere dalla morte.
GLOUCESTER	(al Messaggero) È perduta Parigi? Rouen s’è arresa? Se Enrico fosse richiamato in vita, queste nuove gli farebbero render di nuovo lo spirito.
EXETER	(al Messaggero) Come furon perdute? Quale tradimento s’è usato?
MESSAGGERO	Nessun tradimento, ma mancanza d’uomini e denaro. Fra i soldati questo si mormora: che qui voi mantenete più fazioni, e mentre un campo dovrebbe esser mosso e combattuto, voi state disputando dei vostri generali. Uno vorrebbe guerre lente, con poca spesa; un altro vorrebbe volar rapido, ma gli mancan l’ali; un terzo crede che, senza spesa alcuna, con parole belle e ingannevoli si possa ottener la pace. Destatevi, destatevi, nobiltà d’Inghilterra! Non lasciate che l’accidia offuschi i vostri onori appena nati. Recisi sono i gigli di Francia nelle vostre armi;
(didascalia)	Dello stemma d’Inghilterra, una metà è recisa. Esce
EXETER	Se a questo funerale mancassero le nostre lacrime, queste novelle ne chiamerebbero fuori le maree fluenti.
BEDFORD	Me riguardano; Reggente io sono di Francia. Datemi la mia corazza d’acciaio. Combatterò per la Francia. Via queste vesti di lutto e di vergogna!
(didascalia)	Si toglie la veste di lutto
BEDFORD	Ferite presterò ai Francesi, invece d’occhi, a piangere le loro intermittenti miserie.
(didascalia)	Entra a loro un altro Messaggero con lettere
SECONDO MESSAGGERO	Signori, guardate queste lettere, piene di mala sorte. La Francia s’è del tutto ribellata agli Inglesi, tranne alcune città minori senza importanza. Il Delfino Carlo è incoronato re a Reims; il Bastardo d’Orléans s’è unito a lui; Renato, Duca d’Angiò, prende le sue parti; il Duca d’Alençon corre al suo fianco. Esce
EXETER	Il Delfino incoronato Re? Tutti volan da lui? Oh, dove fuggiremo da questa vergogna?
GLOUCESTER	Non fuggiremo, se non alle gole dei nostri nemici. Bedford, se tu sei tardo, io combatterò fino in fondo.
BEDFORD	Gloucester, perché dubiti tu del mio ardore? Un esercito ho radunato nei miei pensieri, col quale già la Francia è invasa.
(didascalia)	Entra un altro Messaggero
TERZO MESSAGGERO	Miei graziosi signori, ad aggiungere ai vostri lamenti, con cui ora irrorate il feretro di re Enrico, devo informarvi d’un funesto scontro fra il valente Lord Talbot e i Francesi.
WINCHESTER	Che? In cui Talbot vinse—è così?
TERZO MESSAGGERO	Oh no, in cui Lord Talbot fu abbattuto. Le circostanze vi dirò più per esteso. Il dieci d’agosto scorso, questo tremendo signore, ritirandosi dall’assedio d’Orléans, avendo a stento seimila uomini nella sua schiera, da ventitremila Francesi fu tutt’intorno accerchiato e assalito. Non ebbe agio di schierare i suoi uomini. Gli mancavan le picche da porre innanzi agli arcieri— invece delle quali, pali aguzzi strappati dalle siepi piantarono nel terreno confusamente, per tener lontani i cavalieri dallo sfondare. Più di tre ore continuò lo scontro, ove il valoroso Talbot, oltre l’umano pensiero, compì prodigi colla sua spada e colla lancia. A centinaia li mandò all’inferno, e nessuno osò affrontarlo; qui, là e in ogni luogo, infuriato uccideva. I Francesi gridavano che il diavolo era in armi: tutto l’esercito intero stava sbigottito a guardarlo. I suoi soldati, scorgendo il suo spirito indomito, «A Talbot! A Talbot!» gridarono a gran voce, e si gettarono nelle viscere della battaglia. Qui la conquista sarebbe stata del tutto sigillata, se Sir John Fastolf non avesse fatto il codardo. Egli, posto nell’avanguardia di retro, col compito di soccorrerli e seguirli, fuggì codardamente, senza aver dato un colpo. Di qui nacque la generale rovina e il massacro. Chiusi essi furono fra i loro nemici. Un vile Vallone, per guadagnarsi la grazia del Delfino, trafisse Talbot con una lancia nella schiena— lui che tutta la Francia, con le sue forze principali radunate, non osò presumere di guardare una volta in faccia.
BEDFORD	È dunque ucciso Talbot? Io ucciderò me stesso, per vivere qui oziosamente in pompa e agio mentre un sì degno capitano, privo d’aiuto, è tradito ai suoi codardi nemici.
TERZO MESSAGGERO	Oh no, egli vive, ma è preso prigioniero, e con lui Lord Scales e Lord Hungerford; gran parte del resto trucidata, o parimenti presa.
BEDFORD	Il suo riscatto nessuno lo pagherà se non io. Trascinerò il Delfino a capofitto dal suo trono; la sua corona sarà il riscatto del mio amico. Quattro dei loro signori scambierò per uno dei nostri. Addio, miei signori; al mio compito io vado. Fuochi di gioia in Francia subito devo accendere, per celebrare la gran festa di San Giorgio. Diecimila soldati con me condurrò, le cui sanguinose gesta faran tremare tutta l’Europa.
TERZO MESSAGGERO	E ne avrete bisogno. Dinanzi a Orléans, assediata, l’esercito inglese è divenuto debole e fiacco. Il Conte di Salisbury implora rinforzi, e a fatica trattiene i suoi uomini dall’ammutinarsi, poiché essi, sì pochi, vigilano una tal moltitudine.
(didascalia)	Esce
EXETER	Ricordate, signori, i vostri giuramenti fatti a Enrico: o di schiacciare il Delfino del tutto, o di ridurlo all’obbedienza del vostro giogo.
BEDFORD	Io lo ricordo, e qui prendo congedo per attendere ai miei preparativi. Esce
GLOUCESTER	Io alla Torre andrò con tutta la fretta che posso, a visitare l’artiglieria e le munizioni, e poi proclamerò il giovane Enrico re. Esce
EXETER	A Eltham andrò io, ove è il giovane Re, essendo io ordinato suo speciale governatore, e per la sua sicurezza là meglio provvederò. Esce
WINCHESTER	Ognuno ha il suo posto e la sua funzione a cui attendere; io son lasciato fuori; per me, nulla rimane. Ma a lungo non sarò Giovanni-senza-carica. Il Re da Eltham intendo trafugare, e sedere al timone supremo del bene pubblico. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sound a flourish. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou, marching with drummer 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 Orléans Otherwhiles the famished English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month. ALENÇON They want their porrage 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. RENÉ Let’s raise the siege. Why live we idly here? Talbot is taken, whom we wont to fear. Remaineth none but mad-brained Salisbury, And he may well in fretting spend his gall: Nor men nor money hath he to make war.
(didascalia)	Sound, sound, alarum! We will rush on them.
CHARLES	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 flee. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano Carlo il Delfino, il Duca d’Alençon e Renato Duca d’Angiò, in marcia con tamburino e soldati
CHARLES	Il vero moto di Marte—come nei cieli, così in terra—fino a questo giorno non è noto. Di recente egli brillò sul fianco inglese; ora noi siam vincitori: su noi egli sorride. Quali città di qualche peso non abbiam noi? A nostro piacere qui stiamo presso Orléans; e intanto gl’Inglesi affamati, come pallidi spettri, fiaccamente ci assediano un’ora al mese. ALENÇON Manca loro la zuppa e la grassa carne di bue. O bisogna nutrirli come muli, e legar loro il foraggio alla bocca, o avranno aspetto pietoso, come topi affogati. RENÉ Leviamo l’assedio. Perché viviamo qui in ozio? Talbot è preso, lui che solevamo temere. Non resta che il forsennato Salisbury, ed egli può bene nel fremere consumare la sua bile: né uomini né denaro egli ha per far la guerra.
(didascalia)	Suonate, suonate l’allarme! Ci avventeremo su loro.
CHARLES	Ora per l’onore dei Francesi derelitti, a lui perdono la mia morte, a chi mi uccida quando mi vegga tornare indietro d’un passo o fuggire. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Here alarum. The French are beaten back by the English with great loss. Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou
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. RENÉ 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. ALENÇON Froissart, a countryman of ours, records England all Olivers and Rolands 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-brained 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. RENÉ I think by some odd gimmers or device Their arms are set, like clocks, still to strike on, Else ne’er could they hold out so as they do. By my consent we’ll even let them alone. ALENÇON Be it SO.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bastard of Orléans
BASTARD	Where’s the Prince Dauphin? I have news for him.
CHARLES	Bastard of Orléans, thrice welcome to us.
BASTARD	Methinks your looks are sad, your cheer appalled. Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence? Be not dismayed, for succour 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. Exit Bastard But first, to try her skill, René 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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bastard of Orléans with Joan la Pucelle, armed
CHARLES	RENÉ (as Charles) Fair maid, is’t thou wilt do these wondrous feats?
JOAN	René, is’t thou that thinkest to beguile me? Where is the Dauphin? (To Charles) 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.
(didascalia)	René, Alençon and Bastard stand apart
(didascalia)	RENÉ to Alençon and Bastard
JOAN	She takes upon her bravely, at first dash.
JOAN	Dauphin, I am by birth a shepherd’s daughter, My wit untrained 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 displayed my cheeks, God’s mother deigned to appear to me, And in a vision, full of majesty, Willed me to leave my base vocation And free my country from calamity. Her aid she promised, and assured success. In complete glory she revealed herself— And whereas I was black and swart before, With those clear rays which she infused on me That beauty am I blest with, which you may see. Ask me what question thou canst possible, And I will answer unpremeditated. My courage try by combat, if thou dar’st, 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 astonished me with thy high terms. Only this proof I’ll of thy valour make: In single combat thou shalt buckle with me. An if thou vanquishest, thy words are true; Otherwise, I renounce all confidence.
JOAN	I am prepared. Here is my keen-edged sword, Decked with five flower-de-luces on each side— The which at Touraine, in Saint Katherine’s churchyard, Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.
CHARLES	Then come a God’s name. I fear no woman.
JOAN	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	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	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.
(didascalia)	RENÉ to the other lords apart
CHARLES	My lord, methinks, is very long in talk. ALENÇON Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock, Else ne’er could he so long protract his speech. RENÉ Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean? ALENÇON He may mean more than we poor men do know. These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues. RENÉ (to Charles) My lord, where are you? What devise you on? Shall we give o’er Orléans, or no?
JOAN	Why, no, I say. Distrustful recreants, Fight till the last gasp; I’ll be your guard.
CHARLES	What she says, I’ll confirm. We’ll fight it out.
JOAN	Assigned am I to be the English scourge. This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise. Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon’s 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 naught. 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 bore at once.
CHARLES	Was Mohammed 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? ALENÇON Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege. RENÉ Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours. Drive them from Orléans, and be immortalized.
CHARLES	Presently we’ll try. Come, let’s away about it. No prophet will I trust, if she prove false. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Qui allarme. I Francesi sono respinti dagli Inglesi con grandi perdite. Entrano Carlo il Delfino, il Duca d’Alençon e Renato Duca d’Angiò
CHARLES	Chi vide mai cosa simile? Che uomini ho io? Cani, codardi, vigliacchi! Mai sarei fuggito, se non m’avessero lasciato in mezzo ai miei nemici. RENÉ Salisbury è un omicida disperato. Combatte come uno stanco della propria vita. Gli altri signori, come leoni privi di cibo, si avventano su noi come sulla loro fame di preda. ALENÇON Froissart, un nostro compatriota, registra che l’Inghilterra generava tutti Olivieri e Orlandi durante il tempo in cui Edoardo Terzo regnava. Più veramente ora può ciò esser confermato, ché solo Sansoni e Golia essa manda fuori a scaramucciare. Uno contro dieci? Magri furfanti scarniti d’ossa, chi mai supporrebbe ch’essi avessero tal coraggio e audacia?
CHARLES	Lasciamo questa città, ché son schiavi dal cervello di lepre, e la fame li costringerà ad esser più accaniti. Da tempo io li conosco: piuttosto coi loro denti abbatteranno le mura, che abbandonare l’assedio. RENÉ Credo che per qualche strano congegno o meccanismo le loro braccia sian montate, come orologi, per battere sempre, altrimenti mai potrebbero resistere come fanno. Col mio consenso li lasceremo pure soli. ALENÇON Sia COSÌ.
(didascalia)	Entra il Bastardo d’Orléans
BASTARDO	Dov’è il Principe Delfino? Ho novelle per lui.
CHARLES	Bastardo d’Orléans, tre volte benvenuto fra noi.
BASTARDO	Mi pare che i vostri sguardi sian tristi, il vostro animo abbattuto. Ha la recente disfatta prodotto quest’offesa? Non vi sgomentate, ché il soccorso è a portata. Una santa fanciulla qui con me io conduco, la quale, per una visione mandatale dal cielo, è destinata a levare questo tedioso assedio e a cacciare gl’Inglesi dai confini di Francia. Lo spirito della profonda profezia ella possiede, eccedendo le nove sibille dell’antica Roma. Ciò ch’è passato e ciò che verrà ella sa discernere. Parlate: la chiamo dentro? Credete alle mie parole, ché sono certe e infallibili.
CHARLES	Va’, chiamala dentro. Esce il Bastardo Ma prima, per provare la sua arte, Renato, sta’ tu come Delfino al mio posto. Interrogala con alterigia; sia severo il tuo sguardo. Con questo mezzo scandaglieremo che arte ella abbia.
(didascalia)	Entra il Bastardo d’Orléans con Giovanna la Pulzella, armata
CHARLES	RENÉ (come Carlo) Bella fanciulla, sei tu che compirai queste prodigiose imprese?
JOAN	Renato, sei tu che pensi d’ingannarmi? Dov’è il Delfino? (A Carlo) Vieni, vieni avanti da dietro. Ti conosco bene, sebbene mai t’abbia visto prima. Non stupirti. Nulla m’è nascosto. In privato voglio parlarti in disparte. Ritiratevi, signori, e lasciateci soli un poco.
(didascalia)	Renato, Alençon e il Bastardo si tengono in disparte
(didascalia)	RENÉ ad Alençon e al Bastardo
JOAN	Ella si dà arie coraggiose, al primo colpo.
JOAN	Delfino, io son per nascita figlia d’un pastore, il mio ingegno non educato in alcuna sorta d’arte. Al cielo e alla nostra graziosa Signora è piaciuto di risplendere sulla mia condizione disprezzabile. Ecco, mentre badavo ai miei teneri agnelli, e al calore cocente del sole esponevo le mie guance, la madre di Dio si degnò d’apparirmi, e in una visione, piena di maestà, mi volle lasciare la mia umile vocazione e liberare il mio paese dalla calamità. Il suo aiuto ella promise, e assicurato successo. In piena gloria ella si rivelò— e mentre prima io era nera e bruna, con quei chiari raggi ch’ella infuse in me di quella bellezza son benedetta, che voi potete vedere. Chiedimi qualunque domanda ti sia possibile, e io risponderò senza premeditare. Il mio coraggio prova col combattimento, se l’osi, e troverai ch’io eccedo il mio sesso. Risolviti a questo: tu sarai fortunato, se mi accogli per tua compagna d’armi.
CHARLES	Tu m’hai stupito coi tuoi alti discorsi. Solo questa prova del tuo valore io farò: in singolar combattimento tu ti misurerai con me. E se tu vinci, le tue parole son vere; altrimenti, io rinuncio a ogni fiducia.
JOAN	Son pronta. Ecco la mia spada dal taglio affilato, ornata di cinque gigli su ciascun lato— la quale in Turenna, nel cimitero di Santa Caterina, fra molto vecchio ferro io scelsi.
CHARLES	Vieni dunque in nome di Dio. Non temo donna alcuna.
JOAN	E mentre io vivo, mai fuggirò da un uomo. Qui combattono e Giovanna la Pulzella vince
CHARLES	Ferma, ferma le tue mani! Tu sei un’Amazzone, e combatti colla spada di Debora.
JOAN	La madre di Cristo m’aiuta, altrimenti sarei troppo debole.
CHARLES	Chiunque t’aiuti, sei tu che devi aiutar me. Impazientemente io ardo del tuo desiderio. Il mio cuore e le mie mani tu hai d’un colpo soggiogato. Eccellente Pulzella, se tale è il tuo nome, lascia ch’io sia tuo servo, e non tuo sovrano. È il Delfino di Francia che così ti supplica.
JOAN	Non devo cedere ad alcun rito d’amore, ché la mia missione è sacra dall’alto. Quando avrò cacciato di qui tutti i tuoi nemici, allora penserò a una ricompensa.
CHARLES	Intanto, guarda con grazia il tuo prostrato schiavo.
(didascalia)	RENÉ agli altri signori in disparte
CHARLES	Il mio signore, mi pare, è molto lungo a parlare. ALENÇON Senza dubbio confessa questa donna fin sotto la camicia, altrimenti mai potrebbe protrarre così a lungo il discorso. RENÉ Lo disturberemo, poiché non serba misura? ALENÇON Può mirare a più di quanto noi poveri uomini sappiamo. Queste donne son astute tentatrici colle loro lingue. RENÉ (a Carlo) Mio signore, dove siete? Che state deliberando? Abbandoniamo Orléans, o no?
JOAN	Ma no, io dico. Diffidenti codardi, combattete fino all’ultimo respiro; io sarò la vostra guardia.
CHARLES	Ciò che ella dice, io lo confermo. Combatteremo fino in fondo.
JOAN	Destinata io sono a essere il flagello degl’Inglesi. Questa notte l’assedio certamente leverò. Attendetevi l’estate di San Martino, i giorni dell’alcione, poiché io sono entrata in queste guerre. La gloria è come un cerchio nell’acqua, che mai cessa d’allargarsi finché, per ampio spandersi, si disperde nel nulla. Colla morte d’Enrico, il cerchio inglese finisce. Disperse son le glorie ch’esso includeva. Ora io son come quella superba e insolente nave che portò a un tempo Cesare e la sua fortuna.
CHARLES	Fu Maometto ispirato da una colomba? Tu da un’aquila sei dunque ispirata. Elena, la madre del grande Costantino, né le figlie di San Filippo furon pari a te. Fulgida stella di Venere, caduta giù sulla terra, come posso io riverentemente adorarti abbastanza? ALENÇON Cessate gl’indugi, e leviamo l’assedio. RENÉ Donna, fa’ quanto puoi per salvare i nostri onori. Cacciali da Orléans, e sii immortalata.
CHARLES	Subito faremo la prova. Vieni, andiamo a farlo. A nessun profeta presterò fede, s’ella si rivela falsa. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Gloucester, with his Servingmen 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?
(didascalia)	A Servingman knocketh on the gates
GLOUCESTER	Open the gates: ’tis Gloucester that calls.
(didascalia)	FIRST WARDER within the Tower
GLOUCESTER	Who’s there that knocketh so imperiously?
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.
(didascalia)	SECOND WARDER within the Tower
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	Whoe’er he be, you may not be let in.
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	Villains, answer you so the Lord Protector?
(didascalia)	FIRST WARDER within the Tower
GLOUCESTER’S FIRST MAN	The Lord protect him, so we answer him. We do no otherwise than we are willed.
GLOUCESTER	Who willèd you? Or whose will stands, but mine? There’s none Protector of the realm but I. (To Servingmen) 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
(didascalia)	WOODVILLE within the Tower
GLOUCESTER	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.
(didascalia)	WOODVILLE within the Tower
GLOUCESTER	Have patience, noble duke: I may not open. My lord of Winchester forbids. From him I have express commandëment That thou, nor none of thine, shall be let in.
GLOUCESTER	Faint-hearted Woodville! 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.
SERVINGMEN	Open the gates unto the Lord Protector, Or we’ll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.
(didascalia)	Enter, to the Lord Protector at the Tower gates, the Bishop of Winchester and his men in tawny coats
WINCHESTER	How now, ambitious vizier! What means this?
GLOUCESTER	Peeled priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?
WINCHESTER	I do, thou most usurping proditor, And not ‘Protector’, of the King or realm.
GLOUCESTER	Stand back, thou manifest conspirator. Thou that contrived’st to murder our dead lord, Thou that giv’st whores indulgences to sin, If thou proceed in this thy insolence—
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 purple robes, as a child’s bearing-cloth, I’ll use to carry thee out of this place.
WINCHESTER	Do what thou dar’st, I beard thee to thy face.
GLOUCESTER	What, am I dared and bearded to my face? Draw, men, for all this privileged place. All draw their swords Blue coats to tawny coats!—Priest, beware your beard. I mean to tug it, and to cuff you soundly. Under my feet I’ll stamp thy bishop’s mitre. In spite of Pope, or dignities of church, Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the Pope.
GLOUCESTER	Winchester goose! I cry, ‘A rope, a rope!’ (To his Servingmen) Now beat them hence. Why do you let them stay? (To Winchester) Thee I’ll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep’s array. Out, tawny coats! Out, cloaked hypocrite! Here Gloucester’s men beat out the Bishop’s men.
(didascalia)	Enter in the hurly-burly the Mayor of London and
GLOUCESTER	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 distrained the Tower to his use.
WINCHESTER	(to Mayor) 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 the factions 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, cry.
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. The skirmishes cease
GLOUCESTER	Bishop, I’ll be no breaker of the law. But we shall meet and break our minds at large.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, we’ll 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. (Aside) This bishop is more haughty than the devil.
GLOUCESTER	Mayor, farewell. Thou dost but what thou mayst.
WINCHESTER	Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head, For I intend to have it ere long.
(didascalia)	Exeunt both factions severally
MAYOR	(to Officers) See the coast cleared, and then we will depart.— Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear! I myself fight not once in forty year.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Duca di Gloucester, coi suoi Servitori in giubbe azzurre
GLOUCESTER	Son venuto a ispezionare la Torre in questo giorno. Dopo la morte d’Enrico, temo che vi sian sottrazioni. Dove sono questi custodi, che non attendono qui?
(didascalia)	Un Servitore batte alle porte
GLOUCESTER	Aprite le porte: è Gloucester che chiama.
(didascalia)	PRIMO CUSTODE dentro la Torre
GLOUCESTER	Chi è là che batte così imperiosamente?
PRIMO UOMO DI GLOUCESTER	È il nobile Duca di Gloucester.
(didascalia)	SECONDO CUSTODE dentro la Torre
PRIMO UOMO DI GLOUCESTER	Chiunque egli sia, non potete esser fatto entrare.
PRIMO UOMO DI GLOUCESTER	Furfanti, così rispondete al Lord Protettore?
(didascalia)	PRIMO CUSTODE dentro la Torre
PRIMO UOMO DI GLOUCESTER	Il Signore lo protegga, così gli rispondiamo. Non facciamo altro che quel che ci è ordinato.
GLOUCESTER	Chi vi ordinò? O di chi vale la volontà, se non la mia? Non v’è altro Protettore del regno che io. (Ai Servitori) Sfondate le porte. Io sarò la vostra garanzia. Sarò io così scornato da stallieri da letamaio? Gli uomini di Gloucester si avventano alle porte della Torre
(didascalia)	WOODVILLE dentro la Torre
GLOUCESTER	Che rumore è questo? Che traditori abbiamo qui?
GLOUCESTER	Luogotenente, siete voi di cui odo la voce? Aprite le porte! Qui c’è Gloucester, che vuol entrare.
(didascalia)	WOODVILLE dentro la Torre
GLOUCESTER	Abbiate pazienza, nobile duca: non posso aprire. Il mio signore di Winchester lo vieta. Da lui ho espresso comandamento che né tu, né alcuno dei tuoi, sia fatto entrare.
GLOUCESTER	Pusillanime Woodville! Lo apprezzi più di me?— L’arrogante Winchester, quel prelato superbo, che Enrico, il nostro defunto sovrano, mai poté tollerare? Tu non sei amico né di Dio né del Re. Aprite le porte, o presto io ti chiuderò fuori.
SERVITORI	Aprite le porte al Lord Protettore, o le sfonderemo, se non venite in fretta.
(didascalia)	Entrano, presso il Lord Protettore alle porte della Torre, il Vescovo di Winchester e i suoi uomini in giubbe fulve
WINCHESTER	Ebbene, ambizioso visir! Che significa questo?
GLOUCESTER	Prete pelato, mi comandi tu d’esser chiuso fuori?
WINCHESTER	Sì, tu usurpatore e traditore massimo, e non «Protettore», del Re o del regno.
GLOUCESTER	Sta’ indietro, tu manifesto cospiratore. Tu che tramasti d’assassinare il nostro morto signore, tu che dài alle sgualdrine indulgenze per peccare, se procedi in questa tua insolenza—
WINCHESTER	No, sta’ indietro tu! Non mi muoverò d’un piede. Questa sia Damasco, sii tu il maledetto Caino, per uccidere tuo fratello Abele, se lo vuoi.
GLOUCESTER	Non ti ucciderò, ma ti respingerò indietro. Le tue vesti purpuree, come fascia di bimbo, userò per portarti fuori da questo luogo.
WINCHESTER	Fa’ quel che osi, ti sfido in faccia.
GLOUCESTER	Che? Son sfidato e affrontato in faccia? Sguainate, uomini, malgrado tutto questo luogo privilegiato. Tutti sguainano le spade Giubbe azzurre contro giubbe fulve!—Prete, guardatevi la barba. Intendo strapparla, e schiaffeggiarvi di santa ragione. Sotto i miei piedi calpesterò la tua mitra vescovile. A dispetto del Papa, o delle dignità di chiesa, qui per le guance ti trascinerò su e giù.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, di questo risponderai dinanzi al Papa.
GLOUCESTER	Oca di Winchester! Io grido: «Una corda, una corda!» (Ai suoi Servitori) Ora batteteli via di qui. Perché li lasciate stare? (A Winchester) Te io caccerò di qui, lupo in veste d’agnello. Fuori, giubbe fulve! Fuori, ipocrita ammantato! Qui gli uomini di Gloucester cacciano fuori gli uomini del Vescovo.
(didascalia)	Entrano nel tumulto il Sindaco di Londra e
GLOUCESTER	i suoi Ufficiali
SINDACO	Vergogna, signori!—che voi, essendo supremi magistrati, così ingiuriosamente rompiate la pace.
GLOUCESTER	Pace, sindaco, poco tu sai dei miei torti. Ecco Beaufort—che non ha riguardo né a Dio né al re— ha qui sequestrato la Torre a suo uso.
WINCHESTER	(al Sindaco) Ecco Gloucester—nemico dei cittadini, uno che sempre propone guerra, e mai pace, gravando le vostre libere borse di grosse multe— che cerca d’abbattere la religione, perché è Protettore del regno, e vorrebbe armi qui fuori dalla Torre per incoronarsi re e sopprimere il Principe.
GLOUCESTER	Non ti risponderò con parole ma con colpi. Qui le fazioni si scontrano di nuovo
SINDACO	Nulla mi resta, in questa tumultuosa contesa, che di far pubblico proclama. Vieni, ufficiale, quanto più forte tu possa, grida.
UFFICIALE	Uomini d’ogni sorta, qui radunati in armi questo giorno contro la pace di Dio e del Re, vi ingiungiamo e comandiamo nel nome di sua altezza di ritirarvi alle vostre rispettive dimore, e di non portare, maneggiare o usare d’ora innanzi alcuna spada, arma o pugnale, sotto pena di morte. Gli scontri cessano
GLOUCESTER	Vescovo, non sarò io violatore della legge. Ma ci incontreremo e ci diremo per intero i nostri pensieri.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, ci incontreremo a tuo danno, statti certo. Il sangue del tuo cuore avrò per l’opera di questo giorno.
SINDACO	Chiamerò le mazze, se non ve n’andate. (A parte) Questo vescovo è più superbo del diavolo.
GLOUCESTER	Sindaco, addio. Tu non fai che quel che puoi.
WINCHESTER	Abominevole Gloucester, guardati la testa, ché intendo averla fra non molto.
(didascalia)	Escono entrambe le fazioni separatamente
SINDACO	(agli Ufficiali) Vedete sgombrato il campo, e poi ce n’andremo.— Buon Dio, che tali stomachi debbano avere questi nobili! Io stesso non combatto una volta in quarant’anni.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Master Gunner of Orleans with his Boy
MASTER GUNNER	Sirrah, thou know’st how Orléans is besieged, And how the English have the suburbs won.
BOY	Father, I know, and oft have shot at them; Howe’er, unfortunate, I missed 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 spials have informed me How the English, in the suburbs close entrenched, 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 watched, 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—
(didascalia)	Exit Master Gunner at one door
BOY	I’ll never trouble you, if I may spy them.
(didascalia)	Exit at the other door

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Maestro Bombardiere d’Orléans col suo Ragazzo
MAESTRO BOMBARDIERE	Tu là, sai come Orléans sia assediata, e come gl’Inglesi abbian conquistato i sobborghi.
RAGAZZO	Padre, lo so, e spesso ho tirato su loro; tuttavia, sfortunato, ho mancato il bersaglio.
MAESTRO BOMBARDIERE	Ma ora non lo mancherai. Lasciati guidare da me. Capo Maestro Bombardiere son io di questa città; qualcosa devo fare per procurarmi favore. Le spie del Principe m’han informato come gl’Inglesi, nei sobborghi strettamente trincerati, solevano, per una segreta grata di sbarre di ferro in quella torre là, spiare dall’alto la città, e di là scoprire come con maggior vantaggio possano molestarci con tiri o coll’assalto. Per impedire questo inconveniente, un pezzo d’artiglieria contro di essa ho collocato, e proprio questi tre giorni ho vigilato, se potessi vederli. Ora vigila tu, ché io non posso restare più a lungo. Se ne scorgi alcuno, corri e portami parola, e mi troverai in casa del governatore.
RAGAZZO	Padre, ve lo garantisco, non abbiate cura alcuna—
(didascalia)	Esce il Maestro Bombardiere da una porta
RAGAZZO	Non vi disturberò mai, se potrò scorgerli.
(didascalia)	Esce dall’altra porta

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Salisbury and Lord Talbot above on the turrets with others, among them Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glasdale
SALISBURY	Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned? 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, Called 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 bartered me— Which I, disdaining, scorned, and craved death Rather than I would be so pilled esteemed. In fine, redeemed I was, as I desired. But O, the treacherous Fastolf 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 entertained.
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 digged 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 deemed me not secure: So great fear of my name ’mongst them were 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.
(didascalia)	The Boy passes over the stage with a linstock
SALISBURY	I grieve to hear what torments you endured. But we will be revenged sufficiently. Now it is supper time in Orléans. 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 Glasdale, Let me have your express opinions Where is best place to make our batt’ry next.
(didascalia)	They look through the grate
GARGRAVE	I think at the north gate, for there stands Lou.
GLASDALE	And I here, at the bulwark of the Bridge.
TALBOT	For aught I see, this city must be famished Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.
(didascalia)	Here they shoot off chambers within and Salisbury and Gargrave fall down
SALISBURY	O Lord have mercy on us, wretched sinners!
GARGRAVE	O Lord have mercy on me, woeful man!
TALBOT	What chance is this that suddenly hath crossed us? Speak, Salisbury—at least, if thou canst, speak. How far‘st 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 woeful tragedy! In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame; Henry the Fifth he first trained to the wars; Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up His sword did ne‘er leave striking in the field. Yet liv’st 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.— Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life? Speak unto Talbot. Nay, look up to him.— Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.
(didascalia)	Exit one with Gargrave’s body
TALBOT	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?
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger
MESSENGER	My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head. The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle joined, 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 pucelle, Dauphin or dog-fish, 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 carrying Salisbury

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano il Conte di Salisbury e Lord Talbot in alto sulle torrette con altri, fra essi Sir Thomas Gargrave e Sir William Glasdale
SALISBURY	Talbot, mia vita, mia gioia, di nuovo tornato? Come fosti trattato, essendo prigioniero? O con quali mezzi ottenesti d’esser liberato? Racconta, ti prego, in cima a questa torretta.
TALBOT	Il Duca di Bedford aveva un prigioniero, chiamato il valoroso Lord Ponton de Santrailles; per lui io fui scambiato e riscattato. Ma con un uomo d’armi di gran lunga più vile una volta per disprezzo m’avrebbero barattato— ciò ch’io, sdegnando, respinsi, e implorai la morte piuttosto che esser così spogliato di stima. Infine, riscattato io fui, come desideravo. Ma oh, il traditore Fastolf mi ferisce il cuore, che coi miei pugni nudi giustizierei se ora l’avessi condotto in mio potere.
SALISBURY	Non dici però come fosti trattato.
TALBOT	Con scherni e disprezzi e beffe contumeliose. In aperta piazza di mercato mi produssero, per essere pubblico spettacolo a tutti. «Ecco», dicevano, «il terrore dei Francesi, lo spauracchio che spaventa così i nostri bambini.» Allora mi svincolai dagli ufficiali che mi conducevano e colle unghie scavai pietre dal terreno da scagliare contro gli spettatori della mia vergogna. Il mio truce sembiante fece fuggire altri. Nessuno osò avvicinarsi, per paura di morte improvvisa. In mura di ferro non mi credevano sicuro: tanto grande timore del mio nome fra loro s’era sparso ch’essi supponevano ch’io potessi squarciare sbarre d’acciaio e ridurre in pezzi coi calci pilastri di diamante. Perciò una guardia di scelti archibugieri io avevo che mi girava intorno ogni minuto; e s’io solo mi movevo dal mio letto, pronti essi erano a colpirmi al cuore.
(didascalia)	Il Ragazzo attraversa la scena con una miccia
SALISBURY	Mi duole udire quali tormenti sopportasti. Ma ce ne vendicheremo a sufficienza. Ora è il tempo della cena in Orléans. Qui, attraverso questa grata, io li conto uno a uno, e osservo i Francesi come si fortificano. Guardiamo dentro: la vista molto ti diletterà.— Sir Thomas Gargrave e Sir William Glasdale, fatemi avere le vostre espresse opinioni su quale sia il miglior luogo per piazzar poi la nostra batteria.
(didascalia)	Guardano attraverso la grata
GARGRAVE	Io penso alla porta nord, ché là si trova Lou.
GLASDALE	E io qui, al bastione del Ponte.
TALBOT	Per quanto io vedo, questa città dev’essere affamata o con leggere scaramucce indebolita.
(didascalia)	Qui sparano colpi dall’interno e Salisbury e Gargrave cadono a terra
SALISBURY	O Signore, abbi pietà di noi, miseri peccatori!
GARGRAVE	O Signore, abbi pietà di me, uomo dolente!
TALBOT	Quale sorte è questa che d’improvviso ci ha attraversati? Parla, Salisbury—almeno, se puoi, parla. Come stai, specchio di tutti gli uomini d’arme? Uno dei tuoi occhi e il fianco della tua guancia portati via? Torre maledetta! Maledetta mano fatale che ha ordito questa dolente tragedia! In tredici battaglie Salisbury vinse; Enrico Quinto egli primo addestrò alle guerre; finché tromba alcuna suonava o tamburo batteva la sua spada mai cessava di colpire sul campo. Vivi tu ancora, Salisbury? Sebbene la tua parola manchi, un occhio tu hai per guardare al cielo in cerca di grazia. Il sole con un occhio solo vede tutto il mondo. Cielo, non esser tu grazioso ad alcun vivente se a Salisbury manca pietà dalle tue mani.— Sir Thomas Gargrave, hai tu vita alcuna? Parla a Talbot. Anzi, alza lo sguardo a lui.— Portate via il suo corpo; io aiuterò a seppellirlo.
(didascalia)	Esce uno col corpo di Gargrave
TALBOT	Salisbury, rallegra il tuo spirito con questo conforto: tu non morrai finché— Egli fa segno colla mano, e mi sorride, come a dire: «Quando io sarò morto e ito, ricordati di vendicarmi sui Francesi.» Plantageneto, lo farò—e come te, Nerone, suonerò il liuto, guardando le città bruciare. Miserabile sarà la Francia al solo mio nome. Qui allarme, e tuona e lampeggia Che agitazione è questa? Che tumulto v’è nei cieli? Di dove viene quest’allarme e il rumore?
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Mio signore, mio signore, i Francesi si son raccolti in forze. Il Delfino, unito a una certa Giovanna la Pulzella, una santa profetessa appena sorta, è venuto con grande esercito a levare l’assedio. Qui Salisbury si solleva e geme
TALBOT	Udite, udite come geme Salisbury morente! Gli strazia il cuore non potersi vendicare. Francesi, io sarò un Salisbury per voi. Pulzella o pulzella, Delfino o pesce cane, i vostri cuori calpesterò coi calcagni del mio cavallo e farò un pantano dei vostri cervelli mescolati.— Portatemi Salisbury nella sua tenda, e poi proveremo che cosa osino questi codardi Francesi. Allarme. Escono portando Salisbury

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Here an alarum again, and Lord Talbot pursueth the Dauphin and driveth him. Then enter Joan la Pucelle driving Englishmen before her and exeunt. Then enter Lord 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 men.
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle
TALBOT	Here, here she comes. (To Joan) 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 serv’st.
JOAN	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	Talbot, farewell. Thy hour is not yet come. I must go victual Orléans forthwith.
(didascalia)	A short alarum, then the French pass over the stage and enter the town with soldiers
JOAN	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.
(didascalia)	Exit into the town
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 called us, for our fierceness, English dogs; Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.
(didascalia)	A short alarum. Enter English soldiers
TALBOT	Hark, countrymen: either renew the fight Or tear the lions out of England’s coat. Renounce your style; 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-subduèd slaves.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Here another skirmish
TALBOT	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 entered into Orléans In spite of us or aught that we could do.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Soldiers
TALBOT	O would I were to die with Salisbury! The shame hereof will make me hide my head.
(didascalia)	Exit. Alarum. Retreat

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Qui di nuovo allarme, e Lord Talbot insegue il Delfino e lo respinge. Poi entra Giovanna la Pulzella cacciando gl’Inglesi davanti a sé ed escono. Poi entra Lord Talbot
TALBOT	Dov’è la mia forza, il mio valore, il mio vigore? Le nostre truppe inglesi si ritirano; non posso trattenerle. Una donna vestita d’armatura mette in fuga gli uomini.
(didascalia)	Entra Giovanna la Pulzella
TALBOT	Qui, qui ella viene. (A Giovanna) Farò una prova con te. Diavolo o madre del diavolo, io ti scongiurerò. Sangue ti trarrò—tu sei una strega— e subito darò la tua anima a colui che tu servi.
JOAN	Vieni, vieni, son io sola che devo svergognarti. Qui combattono
TALBOT	Cieli, potete voi sopportare che l’inferno così prevalga? Il petto mi spaccherò nello sforzo del mio coraggio e dalle spalle mi schianterò le braccia via ma castigherò questa sgualdrina dall’animo altero. Combattono di nuovo
JOAN	Talbot, addio. La tua ora non è ancor venuta. Devo andar subito a vettovagliare Orléans.
(didascalia)	Breve allarme, poi i Francesi attraversano la scena ed entrano in città coi soldati
JOAN	Raggiungimi se puoi. Disprezzo la tua forza. Va’, va’, rincuora i tuoi uomini affamati. Aiuta Salisbury a fare il suo testamento. Questo giorno è nostro, come molti altri saranno.
(didascalia)	Esce dentro la città
TALBOT	I miei pensieri girano come la ruota d’un vasaio. Non so dove io sia né che io faccia. Una strega col terrore, non colla forza, come Annibale respinge le nostre truppe e vince a suo piacere. Così le api col fumo e le colombe con puzzo nauseante sono dai loro alveari e dalle loro case cacciate via. Ci chiamavano, per la nostra fierezza, cani inglesi; ora, come cuccioli, guaendo fuggiamo.
(didascalia)	Breve allarme. Entrano soldati inglesi
TALBOT	Udite, compatrioti: o rinnovate la lotta o strappate i leoni dallo stemma d’Inghilterra. Rinunciate al vostro blasone; ponete pecore in luogo dei leoni. Le pecore non fuggono metà così vilmente dal lupo, o il cavallo o i buoi dal leopardo, come voi fuggite dai vostri schiavi tante volte soggiogati.
(didascalia)	Allarme. Qui un’altra scaramuccia
TALBOT	Non sarà. Ritiratevi nelle vostre trincee. Voi tutti consentiste alla morte di Salisbury, ché nessuno volle dare un colpo per la sua vendetta. La Pulzella è entrata in Orléans a dispetto nostro e di quanto noi potessimo fare.
(didascalia)	Escono i Soldati
TALBOT	Oh, volessi il cielo ch’io morissi con Salisbury! La vergogna di ciò mi farà nascondere il capo.
(didascalia)	Esce. Allarme. Ritirata

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter on the walls Joan la Pucelle, Charles the Dauphin, René Duke of Anjou, the Duke of Alençon and French Soldiers with colours
JOAN	Advance our waving colours on the walls; Rescued is Orléans from the English. Thus Joan la Pucelle hath performed her word.
CHARLES	Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter, How shall I honour thee for this success? Thy promises are like Adonis’ garden, That one day bloomed and fruitful were the next. France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess! Recovered is the town of Orléans. More blessed hap did ne’er befall our state. RENÉ 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. ALENÇON All France will be replete with mirth and joy When they shall hear how we have played 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 pyramid to her I’ll rear Than Rhodope’s of Memphis ever was. In memory of her, when she is dead Her ashes, in an urn more precious Than the rich-jewelled coffer 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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano sulle mura Giovanna la Pulzella, Carlo il Delfino, Renato Duca d’Angiò, il Duca d’Alençon e Soldati francesi con le insegne
JOAN	Innalzate le nostre insegne sventolanti sulle mura; liberata è Orléans dagl’Inglesi. Così Giovanna la Pulzella ha mantenuto la sua parola.
CHARLES	Divinissima creatura, figlia d’Astrea, come ti onorerò per questo successo? Le tue promesse sono come il giardino d’Adone, che un giorno fioriva e il giorno appresso era fruttuoso. Francia, trionfa nella tua gloriosa profetessa! Ricuperata è la città d’Orléans. Ventura più benedetta mai toccò al nostro stato. RENÉ Perché non suonano forte le campane per tutta la città? Delfino, comandate che i cittadini accendano fuochi di gioia e festeggino e banchettino nelle strade aperte per celebrare la gioia che Dio ci ha dato. ALENÇON Tutta la Francia sarà colma d’allegria e di gioia quando udranno come ci siam comportati da uomini.
CHARLES	È Giovanna, non noi, per cui il giorno è vinto— per la qual cosa io dividerò con lei la mia corona, e tutti i preti e i frati del mio regno in processione canteranno la sua lode senza fine. Una piramide più maestosa a lei innalzerò di quanto mai fosse quella di Rodope a Menfi. In memoria di lei, quando sarà morta, le sue ceneri, in un’urna più preziosa del cofano ricco di gemme di Dario, saranno portate nelle grandi feste innanzi ai re e alle regine di Francia. Non più su San Dionigi noi grideremo, ma Giovanna la Pulzella sarà la santa di Francia. Entrate, e banchettiamo regalmente dopo questo giorno d’oro di vittoria. Squillo di trombe. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter on the walls a French 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.
(didascalia)	A SENTINEL
SERGEANT	Sergeant, you shall. Exit Sergeant Thus are poor servitors, When others sleep upon their quiet beds, Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot, the Dukes of Bedford and Burgundy, and soldiers 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 arms’ 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 yon corner.
BURGUNDY	And I to this.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally Bedford and Burgundy with some soldiers
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.
(didascalia)	Talbot and his soldiers scale the walls
(didascalia)	SENTINELS
TALBOT	Arm! Arm! The enemy doth make assault!
ENGLISH SOLDIERS	Saint George! A Talbot! Exeunt above
(didascalia)	Alarum. The French soldiers leap o’er the walls in their shirts and exeunt. Enter several ways the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou, half ready and half unready
ENGLISH SOLDIERS	ALENÇON How now, my lords? What, all unready so?
BASTARD	Unready? Ay, and glad we scaped so well. RENÉ ‘Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, Hearing alarums at our chamber doors. ALENÇON Of all exploits since first I followed arms Ne’er heard I of a warlike enterprise More venturous or desperate than this.
BASTARD	I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. RENÉ If not of hell, the heavens sure favour him. ALENÇON Here cometh Charles. I marvel how he sped.
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin and Joan la Pucelle
BASTARD	Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.
CHARLES	(to Joan) 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	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 Alençon, this was your default, That, being captain of the watch tonight, Did look no better to that weighty charge. ALENÇON Had all your quarters been as safely kept As that whereof I had the government, We had not been thus shamefully surprised.
BASTARD	Mine was secure. RENÉ And so was mine, my lord.
CHARLES	And for myself, most part of all this night
(didascalia)	Within her quarter and mine own precinct
CHARLES	I was employed in passing to and fro About relieving of the sentinels. Then how or which way should they first break in?
JOAN	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, scattered and dispersed, And lay new platforms to endamage them.
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter an English Soldier
ENGLISH SOLDIER	A Talbot! A Talbot! The French fly, leaving their clothes behind
ENGLISH 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. Exit with spoils

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano sulle mura un Sergente francese d’una compagnia, con due Sentinelle
SERGENTE	Signori, prendete i vostri posti e siate vigilanti. Se rumore alcuno o soldato scorgete presso le mura, con qualche segno evidente datene notizia al corpo di guardia.
(didascalia)	UNA SENTINELLA
SERGENTE	Sergente, così faremo. Esce il Sergente Così i poveri servitori, quando altri dormono sui loro letti quieti, son costretti a vigilare nel buio, nella pioggia e nel freddo.
(didascalia)	Entrano Lord Talbot, i Duchi di Bedford e di Borgogna, e soldati con scale d’assalto, i loro tamburi battendo una marcia funebre
TALBOT	Lord reggente, e temuto Borgogna— per il cui accostarsi le regioni d’Artois, Vallonia e Piccardia ci sono amiche— questa felice notte i Francesi sono senza sospetto, avendo tutto il giorno gozzovigliato e banchettato. Cogliamo dunque quest’occasione, come la più adatta a ripagare il loro inganno, ordito con arte e maligna stregoneria.
BEDFORD	Codardo di Francia! Quanto oltraggia la sua fama, disperando della fortezza delle proprie armi, unendosi a streghe e all’aiuto dell’inferno.
BORGOGNA	I traditori non han mai altra compagnia. Ma che è quella «Pulzella» ch’essi dicon sì pura?
TALBOT	Una vergine, dicono.
BEDFORD	Una vergine? Ed esser così guerriera?
BORGOGNA	Prego Dio che non si riveli maschio fra non molto. Se sotto lo stendardo dei Francesi ella porterà armi come ha cominciato—
TALBOT	Bene, lascia che pratichino e conversino con gli spiriti. Dio è la nostra fortezza, nel cui nome vincitore risolviamoci a scalare i loro bastioni di selce.
BEDFORD	Sali, valoroso Talbot. Noi ti seguiremo.
TALBOT	Non tutti insieme. Molto meglio, io credo, che facciamo il nostro ingresso per vie diverse— così che, se accada che uno di noi fallisca, l’altro possa ancora sorgere contro la loro forza.
BEDFORD	D’accordo. Io a quell’angolo là.
BORGOGNA	E io a questo.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente Bedford e Borgogna con alcuni soldati
TALBOT	E qui Talbot salirà, o si farà la sua tomba. Ora, Salisbury, per te, e per il diritto d’Enrico d’Inghilterra, apparirà questa notte quanto per dovere io sia legato a entrambi.
(didascalia)	Talbot e i suoi soldati scalano le mura
(didascalia)	SENTINELLE
TALBOT	All’armi! All’armi! Il nemico dà l’assalto!
SOLDATI INGLESI	San Giorgio! A Talbot! Escono in alto
(didascalia)	Allarme. I soldati francesi saltano oltre le mura in camicia ed escono. Entrano per vie diverse il Bastardo d’Orléans, il Duca d’Alençon e Renato Duca d’Angiò, mezzo vestiti e mezzo svestiti
SOLDATI INGLESI	ALENÇON Ebbene, miei signori? Che, tutti così svestiti?
BASTARDO	Svestiti? Sì, e lieti d’essere scampati così bene. RENÉ Era tempo, io credo, di svegliarci e lasciare i nostri letti, udendo allarmi alle porte delle nostre camere. ALENÇON Di tutte le imprese da quando per la prima volta seguii le armi mai udii d’un’impresa di guerra più temeraria o disperata di questa.
BASTARDO	Io credo che questo Talbot sia un demonio dell’inferno. RENÉ Se non dell’inferno, i cieli certo lo favoriscono. ALENÇON Ecco viene Carlo. Mi meraviglio di come sia scampato.
(didascalia)	Entrano Carlo il Delfino e Giovanna la Pulzella
BASTARDO	Bah, la santa Giovanna era la sua guardia difensiva.
CHARLES	(a Giovanna) È questa la tua astuzia, tu donna ingannatrice? Volesti tu in principio, per lusingarci, farci partecipi d’un piccolo guadagno perché ora la nostra perdita fosse dieci volte tanta?
JOAN	Perché è Carlo impaziente colla sua amica? In ogni tempo volete voi la mia potenza uguale? Dormendo o vegliando devo io sempre prevalere, o mi biasimerete e getterete la colpa su me?— Soldati imprevidenti, se la vostra guardia fosse stata buona, questa improvvisa sventura mai sarebbe potuta cadere.
CHARLES	Duca d’Alençon, questa fu vostra mancanza, che, essendo capitano della guardia stanotte, non badaste meglio a quel grave incarico. ALENÇON Se tutti i vostri quartieri fossero stati custoditi sì sicuri come quello di cui io avevo il governo, non saremmo stati così vergognosamente sorpresi.
BASTARDO	Il mio era sicuro. RENÉ E così il mio, signore.
CHARLES	E quanto a me, la maggior parte di tutta questa notte
(didascalia)	Nel suo quartiere e nel mio proprio recinto
CHARLES	fui occupato ad andare avanti e indietro per il cambio delle sentinelle. Come dunque o per quale via poterono irrompere per primi?
JOAN	Non indagate, signori, più oltre nel caso, come o per quale via. È certo che trovarono qualche luogo solo debolmente custodito, dove fu fatta la breccia. E ora non resta altro rimedio che questo— raccogliere i nostri soldati, sbandati e dispersi, e ordinare nuovi piani per danneggiarli.
(didascalia)	Allarme. Entra un Soldato inglese
SOLDATO INGLESE	A Talbot! A Talbot! I Francesi fuggono, lasciando dietro i loro abiti
SOLDATO INGLESE	Sarò così ardito da prender ciò che han lasciato. Il grido di «Talbot» mi serve da spada, ché mi son caricato di molte spoglie, senza usar altra arma che il suo nome. Esce colle spoglie

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot, the Dukes of Bedford and Burgundy, a Captain, and soldiers
BEDFORD	The day begins to break and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle overveiled the earth. Here sound retreat and cease our hot pursuit.
(didascalia)	Retreat is sounded
TALBOT	Bring forth the body of old Salisbury And here advance it in the market place, The middle centre of this cursed town.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
TALBOT	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 happened in revenge of him,
(didascalia)	Within their chiefest temple I’ll erect
TALBOT	A tomb, wherein his corpse shall be interred— Upon the which, that everyone may read, Shall be engraved the sack of Orléans, 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.
(didascalia)	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 encountered 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 overruled.— 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, ‘tis more than manners will. And I have heard it said, ‘Unbidden guests Are often welcomest when they are gone’.
TALBOT	Well then, atone—since there’s no remedy— I mean to prove this lady’s courtesy. Come hither, captain. He whispers You perceive my mind?
CAPTAIN	I do, my lord, and mean accordingly.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Lord Talbot, i Duchi di Bedford e di Borgogna, un Capitano e soldati
BEDFORD	Il giorno comincia a spuntare e la notte è fuggita, il cui manto di pece velava la terra. Qui suonate la ritirata e cessi il nostro caldo inseguimento.
(didascalia)	Si suona la ritirata
TALBOT	Portate avanti il corpo del vecchio Salisbury e qui innalzatelo nella piazza del mercato, il centro mediano di questa maledetta città.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
TALBOT	Ora ho pagato il mio voto alla sua anima: per ogni goccia di sangue che gli fu tratta vi son morti stanotte almeno cinque Francesi. E perché le età future possano vedere quale rovina avvenne per vendetta di lui,
(didascalia)	Dentro il loro tempio principale io erigerò
TALBOT	una tomba, ove il suo cadavere sarà sepolto— sulla quale, perché ognuno possa leggere, sarà incisa la presa d’Orléans, il modo traditore della sua lugubre morte, e quale terrore egli fosse stato per la Francia. Ma, signori, in tutto il nostro sanguinoso massacro mi stupisco che non incontrammo sua grazia il Delfino, il suo campione appena venuto, la virtuosa Giovanna d’Arco, né alcuno dei suoi falsi confederati.
BEDFORD	Si crede, Lord Talbot, che quando lo scontro cominciò, destati all’improvviso dai loro letti sonnolenti, essi in mezzo alle schiere degli uomini armati saltarono oltre le mura per rifugiarsi nella campagna.
BORGOGNA	Io stesso, per quanto potessi bene discernere tra il fumo e i vapori oscuri della notte, son certo d’aver spaventato il Delfino e la sua bagascia, quando a braccetto entrambi vennero correndo rapidi, simili a una coppia d’amorose tortore che non potevan viver separate né di giorno né di notte. Dopo che le cose saran messe in ordine qui, li inseguiremo con tutta la forza che abbiamo.
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero
MESSAGGERO	Salute a voi, miei signori! Quale di questa principesca schiera chiamate voi il guerriero Talbot, per le sue gesta tanto applaudite per tutto il regno di Francia?
TALBOT	Qui è il Talbot. Chi vorrebbe parlargli?
MESSAGGERO	La virtuosa dama, Contessa d’Alvernia, ammirando con modestia la tua fama, per mio mezzo prega, grande signore, che tu ti degni di visitare il suo povero castello dove ella dimora, perch’ella possa vantarsi d’aver contemplato l’uomo la cui gloria colma il mondo d’alta fama.
BORGOGNA	È dunque così? Ebbene, allora vedo che le nostre guerre si volgeranno in un pacifico gioco da commedia, quando le dame bramano d’esser incontrate. Non potete, signore, disprezzare la sua gentile richiesta.
TALBOT	Non fidarvi di me dunque, ché quando un mondo d’uomini non poté prevalere con tutta la loro oratoria, la cortesia d’una donna ha pur vinto.— E perciò ditele che le rendo grandi grazie, e con sottomissione mi presenterò a lei.— Non mi faranno le vostre signorie compagnia?
BEDFORD	No, in verità, è più di quanto le convenienze permettano. E ho udito dire: «Gli ospiti non invitati sono spesso i più graditi quando son partiti».
TALBOT	Bene dunque, da solo—poiché non v’è rimedio— intendo mettere alla prova la cortesia di questa dama. Vieni qua, capitano. Gli parla all’orecchio Cogliete il mio pensiero?
CAPITANO	Sì, signore, e intendo agire in conformità.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Countess of Auvergne and her Porter
COUNTESS	Porter, remember what I gave in charge, And when you have done so, bring the keys to me.
PORTER	Madam, I will. Exit
COUNTESS	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 rumour 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Messenger and Lord Talbot
MESSENGER	Madam, according as your ladyship desired, By message craved, so is Lord Talbot come.
COUNTESS	And he is welcome. What, is this the man?
MESSENGER	Madam, it is.
COUNTESS	Is this the scourge of France? Is this the Talbot, so much feared 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 seely 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. He is going
COUNTESS	(to Messenger) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Porter with keys
COUNTESS	If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
TALBOT	Prisoner? To whom?
COUNTESS	To me, bloodthirsty 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!
COUNTESS	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.
COUNTESS	Why? Art not thou the man?
TALBOT	I am indeed.
COUNTESS	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.
COUNTESS	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. He winds his horn. Within, drums strike up; a peal of ordnance. Enter English 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.
COUNTESS	Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse. I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, And more than may be gathered 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 dismayed, fair lady, nor misconster 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.
COUNTESS	With all my heart; and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano la Contessa d’Alvernia e il suo Portiere
CONTESSA	Portiere, ricorda quel che t’ho dato in carico, e quando l’avrai fatto, portami le chiavi.
PORTIERE	Signora, lo farò. Esce
CONTESSA	Il piano è ordito. Se tutto riesce a dovere, io sarò famosa per questa impresa quanto la scitica Tomiri per la morte di Ciro. Grande è la fama di questo tremendo cavaliere, e le sue imprese di non minor conto. Volentieri i miei occhi sarebbero testimoni cogli orecchi, per dare il loro giudizio su questi rari racconti.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Messaggero e Lord Talbot
MESSAGGERO	Signora, secondo che vostra signoria desiderava, chiesto per messaggio, così è venuto Lord Talbot.
CONTESSA	Ed egli è benvenuto. Che, è quest’uomo?
MESSAGGERO	Signora, è lui.
CONTESSA	È questo il flagello di Francia? È questo il Talbot, tanto temuto altrove che col suo nome le madri quietano i loro bimbi? Vedo che la fama è favolosa e falsa. Credevo d’aver a vedere qualche Ercole, un secondo Ettore, per il suo aspetto truce e per l’ampia proporzione delle sue membra ben saldate. Ahimè, questo è un bambino, un misero nano. Non può essere che questo gamberetto debole e rugoso incuta tal terrore ai suoi nemici.
TALBOT	Signora, sono stato ardito a disturbarvi. Ma poiché vostra signoria non ha agio, cercherò qualche altro tempo per visitarvi. Sta per andare
CONTESSA	(al Messaggero) Che intende ora? Va’ a chiedergli dove va.
MESSAGGERO	Fermatevi, mio Lord Talbot, ché la mia signora brama di conoscere la causa della vostra brusca partenza.
TALBOT	Perbacco, poiché ella è in una falsa credenza, vado a certificarle che Talbot è qui.
(didascalia)	Entra il Portiere colle chiavi
CONTESSA	Se tu sei lui, allora sei prigioniero.
TALBOT	Prigioniero? Di chi?
CONTESSA	Mio, signore sanguinario; e per quella causa ti attirai alla mia casa. Lungo tempo la tua ombra è stata mia schiava, ché nella mia galleria pende il tuo ritratto; ma ora la sostanza soffrirà il simile, e io incatenerò queste tue gambe e braccia che con tirannia per questi molti anni hai devastato il nostro paese, ucciso i nostri cittadini, e mandato prigionieri i nostri figli e mariti—
TALBOT	Ah, ah, ah!
CONTESSA	Ridi, miserabile? La tua allegria si volgerà in lamento.
TALBOT	Rido a vedere vostra signoria così sciocca da credere d’avere altro che l’ombra di Talbot su cui esercitare la vostra severità.
CONTESSA	Perché? Non sei tu quell’uomo?
TALBOT	Lo sono in verità.
CONTESSA	Allora ho anche la sostanza.
TALBOT	No, no, io non son che l’ombra di me stesso. Voi siete ingannata; la mia sostanza non è qui. Ché quel che vedete non è che la minima parte e la più piccola proporzione dell’umanità. Vi dico, signora, che se l’intera compagine fosse qui, essa è d’una statura sì spaziosa e alta che il vostro tetto non basterebbe a contenerla.
CONTESSA	Costui è per l’occasione un mercante d’enigmi. Egli sarà qui, e tuttavia non è qui. Come possono accordarsi queste contrarietà?
TALBOT	Ciò vi mostrerò subito. Suona il suo corno. Dentro, i tamburi battono; una salva d’artiglieria. Entrano soldati inglesi Che dite ora, signora? Siete ora persuasa che Talbot non è che l’ombra di se stesso? Questi sono la sua sostanza, i nervi, le braccia e la forza, coi quali egli piega al giogo i vostri colli ribelli, rade al suolo le vostre città e sovverte i vostri borghi, e in un momento li fa desolati.
CONTESSA	Vittorioso Talbot, perdona il mio oltraggio. Trovo che tu non sei meno di quanto la fama ha divulgato, e più di quanto si possa raccogliere dalla tua figura. Non provochi la mia presunzione la tua ira, ché mi dispiace di non averti accolto con la riverenza dovuta a quel che tu sei.
TALBOT	Non vi sgomentate, bella dama, né interpretate male l’animo di Talbot, come voi fraintendeste la composizione esteriore del suo corpo. Quel che avete fatto non m’ha offeso; né altra soddisfazione io chiedo se non solo, colla vostra pazienza, che possiamo gustare del vostro vino e vedere che leccornie avete: ché gli stomachi dei soldati sempre li servono bene.
CONTESSA	Con tutto il cuore; e mi tengo onorata d’imbandire a sì grande guerriero nella mia casa. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	A rose brier. Enter Richard Plantagenet, the Earl of Warwick, the Duke of Somerset, William de la Pole (the Earl of Suffolk), Vernon, and a Lawyer
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence? Dare no man answer in a case of truth?
(didascalia)	Within the Temple hall we were too loud.
SUFFOLK	The garden here is more convenient.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Then say at once if I maintained the truth; Or else was wrangling Somerset in th’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.
RICHARD 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 apparelled, So clear, so shining, and so evident, That it will glimmer through a blind man’s eye.
RICHARD 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 briar pluck a white rose with me. He plucks a white rose
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. He plucks a red rose
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 from the tree are cropped Shall yield the other in the right opinion.
SOMERSET	Good Master Vernon, it is well objected. If I have fewest, I subscribe in silence.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	And I.
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 law; In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Now Somerset, where is your argument?
SOMERSET	Here in my scabbard, meditating that Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset?
SOMERSET	Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet?
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD 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?
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	My father was attached, not attainted; Condemned to die for treason, but no traitor— And that I’ll prove on better men than Somerset, Were growing time once ripened 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 warned.
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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	And, by my soul, this pale and angry rose, As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate, Will I forever, 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. Exit
SOMERSET	Have with thee, Pole.—Farewell, ambitious Richard.
(didascalia)	Exit
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, Called for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester. An 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 today, 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.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Thanks, gentles. Come, let us four to dinner. I dare say This quarrel will drink blood another day.
(didascalia)	Exeunt. The rose brier is removed

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un rovo di rose. Entrano Riccardo Plantageneto, il Conte di Warwick, il Duca di Somerset, William de la Pole (il Conte di Suffolk), Vernon e un Legista
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Grandi signori e gentiluomini, che significa questo silenzio? Non osa alcuno rispondere in una causa di verità?
(didascalia)	Dentro la sala del Temple eravamo troppo rumorosi.
SUFFOLK	Il giardino qui è più conveniente.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Dite dunque subito se io sostenni la verità; o se piuttosto il litigioso Somerset era nell’errore?
SUFFOLK	In fede, io fui negligente nella legge, e mai finora potei piegare la mia volontà a essa, e perciò piego la legge alla mia volontà.
SOMERSET	Giudicate voi, mio signore di Warwick, allora fra noi.
WARWICK	Fra due falchi, quale voli più alto, fra due cani, quale abbia la bocca più profonda, fra due lame, quale porti la miglior tempra, fra due cavalli, quale meglio si porti, fra due ragazze, quale abbia l’occhio più allegro, io ho forse qualche superficiale spirito di giudizio; ma in questi sottili e acuti cavilli della legge, in buona fede, non son più saggio d’una cornacchia.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Bah, bah, ecco una cortese reticenza. La verità appare così nuda dalla mia parte che qualunque occhio mezzo cieco può scorgerla.
SOMERSET	E dalla mia parte è così bene vestita, così chiara, così splendente e così evidente, che luccicherà attraverso l’occhio d’un cieco.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Poiché avete la lingua legata e siete sì riluttanti a parlare, con muti segni proclamate i vostri pensieri. Chi è gentiluomo di vera nascita e tiene all’onore del suo sangue, se ritiene ch’io abbia perorato la verità, colga da questo rovo una rosa bianca con me. Coglie una rosa bianca
SOMERSET	Chi non è né codardo né adulatore, ma osa sostenere il partito della verità, colga da questa spina una rosa rossa con me. Coglie una rosa rossa
WARWICK	Io non amo colori, e senza colore alcuno di vile e insinuante adulazione colgo questa rosa bianca con Plantageneto.
SUFFOLK	Io colgo questa rosa rossa col giovane Somerset, e dico inoltre ch’io credo ch’egli abbia tenuto il giusto.
VERNON	Fermatevi, signori e gentiluomini, e non cogliete più finché non concludiate che colui dal cui lato sian recise dall’albero le rose in minor numero ceda all’altro nella giusta opinione.
SOMERSET	Buon messer Vernon, è bene obiettato. Se io ne ho meno, sottoscrivo in silenzio.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	E io.
VERNON	Allora per la verità e la chiarezza della causa io colgo qui questo pallido e verginale fiore, dando il mio verdetto dalla parte della rosa bianca.
SOMERSET	Non vi pungete il dito mentre la cogliete, ché, sanguinando, non tingiate di rosso la rosa bianca, e non cadiate dalla mia parte così contro la vostra volontà.
VERNON	S’io, signore, per la mia opinione sanguino, l’opinione sarà chirurgo alla mia ferita e mi terrà dalla parte dove ancora io sono.
SOMERSET	Bene, bene, avanti! Chi altri?
LEGISTA	Se il mio studio e i miei libri non son falsi, l’argomento che sostenevate era erroneo in diritto; in segno di che io colgo anche una rosa bianca.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Ora, Somerset, dov’è il vostro argomento?
SOMERSET	Qui nel mio fodero, meditando ciò che tingerà la vostra rosa bianca d’un rosso sanguinoso.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Intanto le vostre guance contraffanno le nostre rose, ché pallide appaiono di paura, come attestando la verità dalla nostra parte.
SOMERSET	No, Plantageneto, non è per paura, ma per collera, che le tue guance arrossiscono di pura vergogna a contraffare le nostre rose, e tuttavia la tua lingua non vuol confessare il tuo errore.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Non ha la tua rosa un tarlo, Somerset?
SOMERSET	Non ha la tua rosa una spina, Plantageneto?
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Sì, acuta e penetrante, per sostenere la sua verità, mentre il tuo tarlo divorante rode la sua falsità.
SOMERSET	Bene, troverò amici che portino le mie rose sanguinanti, i quali sosterranno che quel che ho detto è vero, là dove il falso Plantageneto non osa farsi vedere.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Ora, per questo verginale fiore nella mia mano, io disprezzo te e il tuo modo, ragazzo stizzoso.
SUFFOLK	Non volgere i tuoi disprezzi da questa parte, Plantageneto.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Superbo Pole, lo farò, e disprezzo lui e te.
SUFFOLK	Io ricaccerò la mia parte di ciò nella tua gola.
SOMERSET	Via, via, buon William de la Pole. Facciamo onore al villano conversando con lui.
WARWICK	Ora, per la volontà di Dio, tu gli fai torto, Somerset. Suo avo fu Lionello Duca di Clarence, terzo figlio del terzo Edoardo, re d’Inghilterra. Sorgono villani senza cimiero da radice sì profonda?
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Egli si regge sul privilegio del luogo, o non oserebbe, col suo cuore codardo, parlar così.
SOMERSET	Per colui che mi fece, io sosterrò le mie parole su qualunque lembo di terra della Cristianità. Non fu tuo padre, Riccardo Conte di Cambridge, giustiziato per tradimento ai giorni del nostro defunto re? E per il suo tradimento non sei tu colpito d’infamia, corrotto, ed escluso dall’antica nobiltà? La sua colpa vive ancora rea nel tuo sangue, e finché non sia reintegrato tu sei un villano.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Mio padre fu arrestato, non colpito d’infamia; condannato a morire per tradimento, ma non traditore— e ciò proverò su uomini migliori di Somerset, quando il tempo che matura sia giunto al mio volere. Quanto al tuo complice Pole, e a te stesso, io vi segnerò nel mio libro della memoria, per flagellarvi di questa insolenza. Badateci bene, e dite che siete bene avvertiti.
SOMERSET	Ah, ci troverai sempre pronti per te, e ci riconoscerai da questi colori per tuoi nemici, ché questi i miei amici, a tuo dispetto, porteranno.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	E, per la mia anima, questa pallida e irata rosa, come insegna del mio odio bevitore di sangue, porterò per sempre, io e la mia fazione, finché non si secchi con me nella mia tomba, o non fiorisca all’altezza del mio grado.
SUFFOLK	Va’ avanti, e sia tu soffocato dalla tua ambizione. E così addio finché non t’incontri di nuovo. Esce
SOMERSET	Vengo con te, Pole.—Addio, ambizioso Riccardo.
(didascalia)	Esce
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Come son sfidato, e devo per forza sopportarlo!
WARWICK	Questa macchia ch’essi obiettano contro la vostra casa sarà cancellata nel prossimo parlamento, convocato per la tregua di Winchester e Gloucester. E se allora tu non sarai creato York, io non vivrò per esser detto Warwick. Intanto, in segno del mio amore per te, contro il superbo Somerset e William Pole, porterò dalla tua parte questa rosa. E qui io profetizzo: questa rissa d’oggi, cresciuta in questa fazione nel giardino del Temple, manderà, fra la rosa rossa e la bianca, mille anime alla morte e alla notte mortale.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Buon messer Vernon, vi sono obbligato, che in mio favore abbiate voluto cogliere un fiore.
VERNON	In vostro favore lo porterò sempre.
LEGISTA	E così farò io.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Grazie, gentiluomini. Venite, andiamo noi quattro a cena. Oso dire che questa contesa berrà sangue un altro giorno.
(didascalia)	Escono. Il rovo di rose è rimosso

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Edmund Mortimer, brought in a chair by his Keepers
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, Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer, Nestor-like aged in an age of care. 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?
KEEPER	Richard Plantagenet, my lord, will come. We sent unto the Temple, unto his chamber, And answer was returned 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Plantagenet
KEEPER	My lord, your loving nephew now is come.
MORTIMER	Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come?
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly used: Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes.
MORTIMER	(to Keepers) 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. He embraces Richard And now declare, sweet stem from York’s great stock, Why didst thou say of late thou wert despised?
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	First lean thine aged back against mine arm, And in that ease I’ll tell thee my dis-ease. 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 imprisoned me, And hath detained me all my flow’ring youth
(didascalia)	Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine,
MORTIMER	Was cursed instrument of his decease.
RICHARD 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, Endeavoured 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 the King 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, 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 installed 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 suppressed.
RICHARD 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.
RICHARD 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 cloyed With long continuance in a settled place.
RICHARD 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
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul. In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage, And like a hermit overpassed 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Keepers with Mortimer’s body
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Choked with ambition of the meaner sort. And for those wrongs, those bitter injuries, Which Somerset hath offered 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 mine ill th’advantage of my good. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Edmondo Mortimer, portato su una sedia dai suoi Custodi
MORTIMER	Cortesi custodi della mia debole età declinante, lasciate che il morente Mortimer qui si riposi. Proprio come un uomo appena tratto dal cavalletto, così stanno le mie membra per la lunga prigionia; e queste ciocche grigie, i messi della morte, annunciano la fine d’Edmondo Mortimer, invecchiato come Nestore in un’età d’affanni. Questi occhi, come lampade il cui olio consumato è finito, si fanno oscuri, avvicinandosi al loro estremo; spalle debili, sopraffatte da gravante dolore, e braccia senza vigore, simili a una vite disseccata che piega al suolo i suoi rami senza linfa. E tuttavia questi piedi—il cui sostegno senza forza è intorpidito, incapace di reggere questa zolla d’argilla— son di veloci ali armati dal desiderio di raggiungere una tomba, sapendo io di non aver altro conforto. Ma dimmi, custode, verrà mio nipote?
CUSTODE	Riccardo Plantageneto, signore, verrà. Mandammo al Temple, alla sua camera, e fu riportata risposta ch’egli verrà.
MORTIMER	Basta. La mia anima sarà allora soddisfatta. Povero gentiluomo, il suo torto uguaglia il mio. Da quando Enrico di Monmouth cominciò a regnare— innanzi alla cui gloria io ero grande nelle armi— questa odiosa segregazione io ho patito; e proprio da allora Riccardo è stato oscurato, privato d’onore e d’eredità. Ma ora l’arbitro delle disperazioni, la giusta Morte, benigna giudice delle miserie umane, con dolce liberazione mi congeda di qui. Vorrei che anche i suoi travagli fossero finiti, sì ch’egli potesse ricuperare quel che fu perduto.
(didascalia)	Entra Riccardo Plantageneto
CUSTODE	Signore, il vostro amoroso nipote ora è venuto.
MORTIMER	Riccardo Plantageneto, amico mio, è venuto?
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Sì, nobile zio, così ignobilmente trattato: vostro nipote, il tardi disprezzato Riccardo, viene.
MORTIMER	(ai Custodi) Guidate le mie braccia ch’io possa abbracciargli il collo e nel suo seno esalare il mio ultimo respiro. Oh, ditemi quando le mie labbra toccano le sue guance, ch’io possa amorosamente dargli un fievole bacio. Abbraccia Riccardo E ora dichiara, dolce germoglio del grande ceppo di York, perché dicesti dianzi che tu eri disprezzato?
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Prima appoggia il tuo dorso vecchio al mio braccio, e in quell’agio ti dirò il mio disagio. Questo giorno, discutendo su una causa, alcune parole nacquero fra Somerset e me; fra i quali termini egli usò la sua lingua sfrenata e mi rimproverò la morte di mio padre; il quale obbrobrio pose sbarre innanzi alla mia lingua, altrimenti col simile io l’avrei ripagato. Perciò, buon zio, per amore di mio padre, in onore d’un vero Plantageneto, e per amor di parentela, dichiara la causa per cui mio padre, Conte di Cambridge, perdé la testa.
MORTIMER	Quella causa, caro nipote, che m’imprigionò, e m’ha trattenuto tutta la mia fiorente gioventù
(didascalia)	dentro un’odiosa cella, là a languire,
MORTIMER	fu maledetto strumento della sua morte.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Rivela più per esteso quale causa fu quella, ché io son ignorante e non posso indovinare.
MORTIMER	Lo farò, se il mio fiato che manca lo permette e la morte non s’avvicina prima che il mio racconto sia finito. Enrico Quarto, avo di questo Re, depose il suo cugino Riccardo, figlio d’Edoardo, il primogenito e legittimo erede d’Edoardo re, il terzo di quella discendenza; durante il cui regno i Percy del nord, trovando la sua usurpazione ingiustissima, si adoperarono per la mia elevazione al trono. La ragione che mosse a questo quei signori guerrieri fu perché—rimosso così il giovane Re Riccardo, senza lasciare erede generato dal suo corpo— io ero il primo per nascita e parentela, ché per mia madre io discendo da Lionello Duca di Clarence, terzo figlio di re Edoardo Terzo—mentre il Re da Giovanni di Gaunt trae la sua genealogia, essendo egli soltanto il quarto di quella eroica stirpe. Ma nota: mentre in questo altero grande tentativo essi si adoperavano per insediare il legittimo erede, io perdei la mia libertà, ed essi le loro vite. Molto dopo di questo, quando Enrico Quinto, succedendo a suo padre Bolingbroke, regnava, tuo padre, allora Conte di Cambridge, discendente dal famoso Edmondo Langley, Duca di York, sposando mia sorella che fu tua madre, di nuovo, per pietà della mia dura afflizione, levò un esercito, pensando di riscattarmi e d’avermi insediato nel diadema; ma, come gli altri, così cadde quel nobile conte, e fu decapitato. Così i Mortimer, in cui riposava il titolo, furono soppressi.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Dei quali, signore, il vostro onore è l’ultimo.
MORTIMER	È vero, e tu vedi ch’io non ho prole, e che le mie parole affievolite annunziano la morte. Tu sei mio erede. Il resto desidero che tu lo raccolga— ma sii pur cauto nella tua studiosa cura.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	I tuoi gravi ammonimenti prevalgono su me. Ma tuttavia mi pare che l’esecuzione di mio padre non fosse nulla meno che sanguinosa tirannia.
MORTIMER	Col silenzio, nipote, sii tu accorto. Saldamente piantata è la casa di Lancaster, e come una montagna, non da rimuovere. Ma ora tuo zio si rimuove di qui, come i principi fanno delle loro corti, quando son sazi di lunga permanenza in un luogo stabile.
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	O zio, volesse il cielo che qualche parte dei miei giovani anni potesse riscattare il passaggio della vostra età.
MORTIMER	Tu allora mi fai torto, come fa quello sgozzatore che dà molte ferite quando una sola ucciderà. Non piangere, se non per dolerti del mio bene. Da’ soltanto ordine per il mio funerale. E così addio, e belle sian tutte le tue speranze, e prospera sia la tua vita in pace e in guerra. Muore
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	E pace, non guerra, tocchi alla tua anima che parte. In carcere tu hai speso un pellegrinaggio, e come un eremita hai trascorso i tuoi giorni. Bene, io chiuderò il suo consiglio nel mio petto, e quel ch’io immagino, riposi. Custodi, portatelo via di qui, e io stesso curerò la sua sepoltura meglio della sua vita.
(didascalia)	Escono i Custodi col corpo di Mortimer
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Qui muore la fosca fiaccola di Mortimer, soffocata dall’ambizione della più vile sorta. E quanto a quei torti, quelle amare ingiurie, che Somerset ha inferto alla mia casa, non dubito di riparare con onore. E perciò m’affretto al Parlamento, o per esser reintegrato nel mio sangue, o per fare del mio male il vantaggio del mio bene. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter young King Henry, the Dukes of Exeter and Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester; the Duke of Somerset and the Earl of Suffolk with red roses; the Earl of Warwick and Richard Plantagenet with white roses. Gloucester offers to put up a bill; Winchester snatches it, tears it
WINCHESTER	Com‘st 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 dishonoured me. Think not, although in writing I preferred 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, 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 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—
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.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER Roam thither then.
(didascalia)	WARWICK (to Winchester)
WINCHESTER	My lord, it were your duty to forbear.
SOMERSET	Ay, so the bishop be not overborne: 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 touched so near.
WARWICK	State holy or unhallowed, what of that? Is not his grace Protector to the King?
RICHARD PLANTAGENET	(aside) Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue, Lest it be said, ‘Speak, sirrah, when you should; Must your bold verdict intertalk 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.
(didascalia)	A noise within
(didascalia)	SERVINGMEN (within) Down with the tawny coats!
KING HENRY	What tumult’s this?
WARWICK	An uproar, I dare warrant, Begun through malice of the Bishop’s men.
(didascalia)	A noise again
(didascalia)	SERVINGMEN (within) Stones, stones!
(didascalia)	Enter the Mayor of London
MAYOR	O my good lords, and virtuous Henry, Pity the city of London, pity us! so The Bishop and the Duke of Gloucester’s men, Forbidden late to carry any weapon, Have filled 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 knocked out. Our windows are broke down in every street, And we for fear compelled to shut our shops.
(didascalia)	Enter in skirmish, with bloody pates, Winchester’s Servingmen in tawny coats and Gloucester’s in blue coats
KING HENRY	We charge you, on allegiance to ourself, To hold your slaught’ring hands and keep the peace.
(didascalia)	The skirmish ceases
KING HENRY	Pray, Uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.
FIRST SERVINGMAN	Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we’ll fall to it with our teeth.
SECOND SERVINGMAN	Do what ye dare, we are as resolute. Skirmish again
GLOUCESTER	You of my household, leave this peevish broil, And set this unaccustomed fight aside.
THIRD SERVINGMAN	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 SERVINGMAN	Ay, and the very parings of our nails Shall pitch a field when we are dead. They begin to skirmish again
GLOUCESTER	Stay, stay, I say! An if you love me as you say you do, Let me persuade you to forbear a while.
KING HENRY	O how this discord doth afflict my soul! Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold o 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 banished 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	(to Winchester) 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. (To the others) 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	So help me God (aside) as I intend it not.
KING HENRY	O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester, How joyful am I made by this contract! (To Servingmen) Away, my masters, trouble us no more, But join in friendship as your lords have done. first SERVINGMAN Content. I’ll to the surgeon’s.
SECOND SERVINGMAN	And so will I.
THIRD SERVINGMAN	And I will see what physic the tavern affords. Exeunt the Mayor and Servingmen
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—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 recompensed.
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. 170
RICHARD 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. Richard kneels 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(rising) 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 BUT RICHARD AND	SOMERSET 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 crowned 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.
(didascalia)	Sennet. 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 festered 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 should lose all’— Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish His days may finish, ere that hapless time. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano il giovane Re Enrico, i Duchi di Exeter e di Gloucester, il Vescovo di Winchester; il Duca di Somerset e il Conte di Suffolk con rose rosse; il Conte di Warwick e Riccardo Plantageneto con rose bianche. Gloucester si accinge a presentare una petizione; Winchester la strappa, la fa a pezzi
WINCHESTER	Vieni tu con righe profondamente premeditate? Con libelli scritti studiosamente architettati? Umfredo di Gloucester, se puoi accusare, o intendi imputarmi qualcosa, fallo senza invenzione, all’improvviso, com’io con discorso subitaneo ed estemporaneo mi propongo di rispondere a quanto tu puoi obiettare.
GLOUCESTER	Prete presuntuoso, questo luogo impone la mia pazienza, altrimenti troveresti che m’hai disonorato. Non credere, sebbene per iscritto io abbia esposto il modo dei tuoi vili e oltraggiosi delitti, che perciò io abbia inventato, o non sia capace di ripetere alla lettera il metodo della mia penna. No, prelato, tale è la tua audace scelleratezza, le tue lascive, pestifere e sediziose imprese, che perfino gl’infanti ciarlano del tuo orgoglio. Tu sei un usuraio perniciosissimo, ritroso per natura, nemico della pace, lascivo, sfrenato, più che bene convenga a un uomo della tua professione e del tuo grado. E quanto al tuo tradimento, che v’è di più manifesto?— in questo, che tendesti un’insidia per togliermi la vita, tanto al Ponte di Londra quanto bene alla Torre. Inoltre, io temo, se i tuoi pensieri fossero vagliati, che il Re tuo sovrano non sia del tutto esente dall’invidiosa malizia del tuo cuore gonfio.
WINCHESTER	Gloucester, io ti sfido.—Signori, degnatevi di darmi udienza di ciò ch’io replicherò. S’io fossi cupido, ambizioso o perverso, come egli mi vuole, come son io così povero? O come accade ch’io non cerchi d’avanzare o d’innalzarmi, ma serbi la mia consueta vocazione? E quanto alla discordia, chi antepone la pace più di me?—se non son provocato. No, miei buoni signori, non è quello che offende; non è quello che ha irritato il Duca. È perché nessuno debba comandare fuor che lui, nessuno fuor che lui debba stare presso il Re— e questo genera tuono nel suo petto e lo fa ruggire fuori queste accuse. Ma egli saprà ch’io son buono altrettanto—
GLOUCESTER	Buono altrettanto?— Tu bastardo di mio avo.
WINCHESTER	Sì, signorile messere; ché che siete voi, di grazia, se non uno che fa l’imperioso sul trono d’un altro?
GLOUCESTER	Non son io Protettore, prete insolente?
WINCHESTER	E non son io un prelato della Chiesa?
GLOUCESTER	Sì—come un fuorilegge dimora in un castello e l’usa per dar copertura al suo furto.
WINCHESTER	Irriverente Gloucester.
GLOUCESTER	Tu sei riverendo quanto alla tua funzione spirituale, non quanto alla tua vita.
WINCHESTER	Roma rimedierà a questo.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER Vattene a Roma dunque.
(didascalia)	WARWICK (a Winchester)
WINCHESTER	Signore, sarebbe vostro dovere astenervi.
SOMERSET	Sì, purché il vescovo non sia sopraffatto: mi pare che il mio signore dovrebbe esser religioso, e conoscere l’ufficio che a tali s’appartiene.
WARWICK	Mi pare che sua signoria dovrebbe esser più umile. Non conviene a un prelato perorare così.
SOMERSET	Sì, quando il suo santo stato è toccato sì da vicino.
WARWICK	Stato santo o profano, che importa? Non è sua grazia Protettore del Re?
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	(a parte) Plantageneto, lo vedo, deve tenere la lingua, ché non si dica: «Parla, tu là, quando devi; deve il tuo ardito verdetto conversare coi signori?» Altrimenti io darei una stoccata a Winchester.
RE ENRICO	Zii di Gloucester e di Winchester, speciali guardiani del nostro bene inglese, vorrei ottenere, se le preghiere potessero ottenere, d’unire i vostri cuori in amore e amicizia. Oh, che scandalo è per la nostra corona che due sì nobili pari come voi contendano! Credetemi, signori, i miei teneri anni sanno dire che la discordia civile è un verme velenoso che rode le viscere dello stato.
(didascalia)	Rumore dentro
(didascalia)	SERVITORI (dentro) Abbasso le giubbe fulve!
RE ENRICO	Che tumulto è questo?
WARWICK	Un baccano, oso garantirlo, iniziato per malizia degli uomini del Vescovo.
(didascalia)	Rumore di nuovo
(didascalia)	SERVITORI (dentro) Pietre, pietre!
(didascalia)	Entra il Sindaco di Londra
SINDACO	O miei buoni signori, e virtuoso Enrico, abbiate pietà della città di Londra, pietà di noi! così gli uomini del Vescovo e del Duca di Gloucester, cui fu di recente vietato portare arma alcuna, si son riempite le tasche di ciottoli e, schierandosi in parti contrarie, si scagliano l’un contro il capo dell’altro sì fitto che a molti son fatte schizzare fuori le cervella vertiginose. Le nostre finestre son sfondate in ogni strada, e noi per paura costretti a chiudere le nostre botteghe.
(didascalia)	Entrano in scaramuccia, colle teste sanguinanti, i Servitori di Winchester in giubbe fulve e quelli di Gloucester in giubbe azzurre
RE ENRICO	Vi ingiungiamo, per la fedeltà a noi dovuta, di trattenere le vostre mani omicide e mantenere la pace.
(didascalia)	La scaramuccia cessa
RE ENRICO	Vi prego, zio Gloucester, mitigate questa contesa.
PRIMO SERVITORE	Anzi, se ci son vietate le pietre, ci daremo dentro coi nostri denti.
SECONDO SERVITORE	Fate quel che osate, noi siamo altrettanto risoluti. Scaramuccia di nuovo
GLOUCESTER	Voi della mia casa, lasciate questa rissa stizzosa, e ponete da parte questa lotta inconsueta.
TERZO SERVITORE	Signore, noi sappiamo che vostra grazia è un uomo giusto e retto e, per la vostra regale nascita, inferiore a nessuno se non a sua maestà; e prima che sopportiamo che un tal principe, sì benigno padre dello stato, sia svergognato da un compagnone da calamaio, noi e le nostre mogli e i figli tutti combatteremo e ci faremo trucidare i corpi dai tuoi nemici.
PRIMO SERVITORE	Sì, e perfino i ritagli delle nostre unghie daranno battaglia quando noi saremo morti. Cominciano a scaramucciare di nuovo
GLOUCESTER	Fermi, fermi, dico! E se voi mi amate come dite d’amarmi, lasciate ch’io vi persuada ad astenervi un poco.
RE ENRICO	Oh, come questa discordia affligge la mia anima! Potete voi, mio signore di Winchester, contemplare o i miei sospiri e le mie lacrime, e non intenerirvi una volta? Chi dovrebbe esser pietoso se voi non lo siete? O chi dovrebbe studiarsi d’anteporre la pace, se santi uomini di chiesa si dilettano delle risse?
WARWICK	Cedete, mio signore Protettore; cedete, Winchester— a meno che intendiate con ostinato rifiuto uccidere il vostro sovrano e distruggere il regno. Vedete quale sventura—e anche quale assassinio— è stata compiuta per la vostra inimicizia. Siate dunque in pace, se non avete sete di sangue.
WINCHESTER	Egli si sottometterà, o io mai cederò.
GLOUCESTER	La compassione per il Re mi comanda di piegarmi, altrimenti gli vedrei strappato il cuore prima che il prete ottenesse mai da me quel privilegio.
WARWICK	Guardate, mio signore di Winchester, il Duca ha bandito il furore cupo e malcontento, come dalla sua fronte distesa appare. Perché guardate ancora così severo e tragico?
GLOUCESTER	Ecco, Winchester, io t’offro la mia mano.
RE ENRICO	(a Winchester) Vergogna, zio Beaufort! Vi ho udito predicare che la malizia era un grande e grave peccato; e non volete voi mantenere la cosa che insegnate, ma vi mostrate primo trasgressore in essa?
WARWICK	Dolce Re! Il Vescovo ha una benevola frustata. Per vergogna, mio signore di Winchester, intenerisciti. Che, dovrà un bambino istruirvi su quel che dovete fare?
WINCHESTER	Bene, Duca di Gloucester, io ti cederò amore per il tuo amore, e mano per mano io do.
GLOUCESTER	(a parte) Sì, ma io temo con cuore vuoto. (Agli altri) Vedete qui, amici miei e amorevoli compatrioti, questo segno serve da bandiera di tregua fra noi stessi e tutti i nostri seguaci. Così m’aiuti Dio, com’io non dissimulo.
WINCHESTER	Così m’aiuti Dio (a parte) com’io non lo intendo.
RE ENRICO	O amorevole zio, benigno Duca di Gloucester, come son fatto gioioso da questo patto! (Ai Servitori) Via, miei signori, non ci turbate più, ma unitevi in amicizia come han fatto i vostri signori. primo SERVITORE Contento. Io andrò dal chirurgo.
SECONDO SERVITORE	E così farò io.
TERZO SERVITORE	E io andrò a vedere che medicina offre la taverna. Escono il Sindaco e i Servitori
WARWICK	Accettate questa pergamena, graziosissimo sovrano, che in favore del diritto di Riccardo Plantageneto noi presentiamo a vostra maestà.
GLOUCESTER	Bene insistito, mio signore di Warwick—ché, dolce principe, se vostra grazia considera ogni circostanza, avete gran ragione di far giustizia a Riccardo, specialmente per quelle ragioni che a Eltham Place io dissi a vostra maestà.
RE ENRICO	E quelle ragioni, zio, erano di peso.— Perciò, miei amorevoli signori, il nostro piacere è che Riccardo sia reintegrato nel suo sangue.
WARWICK	Sia Riccardo reintegrato nel suo sangue. Così saranno compensati i torti di suo padre.
WINCHESTER	Come vorranno gli altri, così vuole Winchester.
RE ENRICO	Se Riccardo sarà fedele, non quello solo ma tutta l’intera eredità io dono che appartiene alla casa di York, da cui voi sorgete per lineale discendenza. 170
RICCARDO PLANTAGENETO	Il tuo umile servo vota obbedienza e umile servizio fino al punto della morte.
RE ENRICO	Piègati allora, e posa il tuo ginocchio contro il mio piede. Riccardo s’inginocchia E in ricompensa di quel dovere compiuto, io ti cingo colla valorosa spada di York. Sorgi, Riccardo, come un vero Plantageneto, e sorgi creato principesco Duca di York.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	(alzandosi) E così prosperi Riccardo, quanto i tuoi nemici cadano; e come sorge il mio dovere, così periscano coloro che covano un solo pensiero contro vostra maestà.
TUTTI FUOR CHE RICCARDO E	SOMERSET Benvenuto, alto principe, il potente Duca di York!
SOMERSET	(a parte) Perisci, vile principe, ignobile Duca di York!
GLOUCESTER	Ora meglio gioverà a vostra maestà attraversare i mari ed esser incoronato in Francia. La presenza d’un re genera amore fra i suoi sudditi e i suoi leali amici, come toglie l’animo ai suoi nemici.
RE ENRICO	Quando Gloucester dice la parola, re Enrico va, ché l’amichevole consiglio taglia via molti nemici.
GLOUCESTER	Le vostre navi sono già in pronto.
(didascalia)	Squillo. Escono tutti tranne Exeter
EXETER	Sì, possiamo marciare in Inghilterra o in Francia, non vedendo quel che verosimilmente seguirà. Questa recente discordia cresciuta fra i pari brucia sotto finte ceneri di amore contraffatto, e alla fine eromperà in fiamma. Come le membra infette imputridiscono solo a gradi finché ossa e carne e nervi si distaccano, così crescerà questa vile e invidiosa discordia. E ora io temo quella fatale profezia che, al tempo d’Enrico detto il Quinto, era sulla bocca d’ogni bimbo di latte: che «l’Enrico nato a Monmouth doveva vincer tutto, e l’Enrico nato a Windsor doveva perder tutto»— la quale è sì chiara che Exeter desidera che i suoi giorni finiscano prima di quel tempo infelice. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle, disguised, with four French Soldiers with sacks upon their backs
JOAN	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. A SOLDIER Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city, And we be lords and rulers over Rouen. Therefore we’ll knock. They knock
WATCH	(within) Qui là?
JOAN	Paysans, la pauvre gens de France: Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.
WATCH	(opening the gates)
(didascalia)	Enter, go in. The market bell is rung.
JOAN	(aside) Now, Rouen, I’ll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Giovanna la Pulzella, travestita, con quattro Soldati francesi con sacchi sulle spalle
JOAN	Queste sono le porte della città, le porte di Rouen, attraverso cui la nostra astuzia deve aprire una breccia. Fate attenzione. Siate cauti nel disporre le vostre parole. Parlate come la volgare gente da mercato che viene a riscuotere denaro per il proprio grano. Se otteniamo l’ingresso, come io spero, e se troviamo la guardia neghittosa solo debole, io con un segno darò avviso ai nostri amici, perché Carlo il Delfino possa affrontarli. UN SOLDATO I nostri sacchi saranno il mezzo per saccheggiare la città, e noi saremo signori e reggitori di Rouen. Perciò batteremo. Battono
GUARDIA	(dentro) Qui là?
JOAN	Paysans, la pauvre gens de France: povera gente da mercato che viene a vendere il suo grano.
GUARDIA	(aprendo le porte)
(didascalia)	Entrate, entrate dentro. La campana del mercato è suonata.
JOAN	(a parte) Ora, Rouen, scuoterò i tuoi bastioni fino a terra.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, René Duke of Anjou, and French soldier
CHARLES	Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem, And once again we’ll sleep secure in Rouen.
BASTARD	Here entered Pucelle and her practisants. Now she is there, how will she specify ‘Here is the best and safest passage in’?
RENE	By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower— Which, once discerned, shows that her meaning is: No way to that, for weakness, which she entered.
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle on the top, thrusting out a torch burning
JOAN	Behold, this is the happy wedding torch That joineth Rouen unto her countrymen, But burning fatal to the Talbonites.
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!
RENE	Defer no time; delays have dangerous ends.
(didascalia)	Enter and cry, ‘The Dauphin!’, presently,
RENE	And then do execution on the watch. Alarum. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Carlo il Delfino, il Bastardo d’Orléans, il Duca d’Alençon, Renato Duca d’Angiò e un soldato francese
CHARLES	San Dionigi benedica questo felice stratagemma, e ancora una volta dormiremo sicuri in Rouen.
BASTARDO	Qui entrarono la Pulzella e i suoi complici. Ora ch’ella è là, come indicherà «Qui è il migliore e più sicuro passaggio per entrare»?
RENE	Spingendo fuori una torcia da quella torre là— la quale, una volta scorta, mostra che il suo intento è: nessuna via, per debolezza, pari a quella per cui ella entrò.
(didascalia)	Entra Giovanna la Pulzella in cima, spingendo fuori una torcia accesa
JOAN	Guardate, questa è la felice torcia nuziale che congiunge Rouen ai suoi compatrioti, ma che arde fatale ai Talbotisti.
BASTARDO	Vedi, nobile Carlo, il faro della nostra amica. La torcia ardente sta in quella torretta là.
CHARLES	Ora brilli essa come una cometa di vendetta, un profeta della caduta di tutti i nostri nemici!
RENE	Non differite tempo; gl’indugi hanno fini pericolose.
(didascalia)	Entrate e grida, «Il Delfino!», immantinente,
RENE	e poi fate strage della guardia. Allarme. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	An alarum. Enter Lord Talbot in an excursion
TALBOT	France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears, If Talbot but survive thy treachery. Pucelle, that witch, that damnèd sorceress, Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares, That hardly we escaped the pride of France. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un allarme. Entra Lord Talbot in una sortita
TALBOT	Francia, tu piangerai questo tradimento colle tue lacrime, se solo Talbot sopravvive alla tua perfidia. La Pulzella, quella strega, quella dannata maliarda, ha ordito questa infernale sventura a nostra insaputa, sì che a stento sfuggimmo all’orgoglio di Francia. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	An alarum. Excursions. The Duke of Bedford brought in sick, in a chair. Enter Lord Talbot and the Duke of Burgundy, without, within, Joan la Pucelle, Charles the Dauphin, the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, and René Duke of Anjou on the walls
JOAN	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 courtesan. 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	What will you do, good graybeard? Break a lance And run a-tilt at death within a chair?
TALBOT	Foul fiend of France, and hag of all despite, Encompassed 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	Are ye so hot, sir?—Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace. If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow. The English whisper together in counsel God speed the parliament; who shall be the Speaker?
TALBOT	Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
JOAN	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, Alençon, and the rest. Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out? ALENÇON Seignieur, no.
TALBOT	Seignieur, hang! Base muleteers of France, Like peasant footboys do they keep the walls And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
JOAN	Away, captains, let’s get us from the walls, For Talbot means no goodness by his looks. Goodbye, my lord. We came but to tell you That we are here. Exeunt French 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, Pricked on by public wrongs sustained 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 Cceur-de-lion’s heart was burièd— 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. (To 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 vanquishèd 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.
(didascalia)	Exit with Burgundy
TALBOT	An alarum. Excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolf and a Captain
CAPTAIN	Whither away, Sir John Fastolf, in such haste?
FASTOLF	Whither away? To save myself by flight. We are like to have the overthrow again.
CAPTAIN	What, will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?
FASTOLF	Ay, all the Talbots in the world, to save my life. Exit
CAPTAIN	Cowardly knight, ill fortune follow thee! Exit
(didascalia)	Retreat. Excursions. Joan, Alençon, 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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un allarme. Sortite. Il Duca di Bedford portato dentro infermo, su una sedia. Entrano Lord Talbot e il Duca di Borgogna, fuori; dentro, Giovanna la Pulzella, Carlo il Delfino, il Bastardo d’Orléans, il Duca d’Alençon e Renato Duca d’Angiò sulle mura
JOAN	Buon giorno, galanti. Vi manca grano per il pane? Credo che il Duca di Borgogna digiunerà prima che ricomperi a tal prezzo. Era pieno di loglio. Vi piace il sapore?
BORGOGNA	Continua a beffarti, vile demonio e cortigiana svergognata. Confido fra non molto di soffocarti col tuo proprio, e di farti maledire la messe di quel grano.
CHARLES	Vostra grazia forse morrà di fame prima di quel tempo.
BEDFORD	Oh, non parole, ma fatti vendichino questo tradimento.
JOAN	Che farete, buon barbagrigia? Romperete una lancia e correrete in giostra contro la morte dentro una sedia?
TALBOT	Turpe demonio di Francia, e megera d’ogni dispetto, circondata dai tuoi lussuriosi amanti, ti si conviene beffare la sua valorosa vecchiezza e rimproverar di codardia un uomo mezzo morto? Damigella, farò una prova con voi di nuovo, o altrimenti perisca Talbot con questa vergogna.
JOAN	Siete così accesa, messere?—Pure, Pulzella, taci. Se Talbot solo tuona, la pioggia seguirà. Gl’Inglesi confabulano insieme in consiglio Dio assista il parlamento; chi sarà lo Speaker?
TALBOT	Osate venire avanti e affrontarci in campo aperto?
JOAN	Pare che vostra signoria ci prenda dunque per sciocchi, a provare se il nostro è nostro o no.
TALBOT	Non parlo a quella Ecate ingiuriosa ma a te, Alençon, e agli altri. Volete, come soldati, venire e combattere fino in fondo? ALENÇON Seignieur, no.
TALBOT	Seignieur, alla forca! Vili mulattieri di Francia, come garzoni contadini stanno a guardia delle mura e non osano prendere le armi come gentiluomini.
JOAN	Via, capitani, allontaniamoci dalle mura, ché Talbot non intende nulla di buono, a giudicar dai suoi sguardi. Addio, signore. Venimmo solo per dirvi che siamo qui. Escono i Francesi dalle mura
TALBOT	E là saremo anche noi, prima che passi molto, o altrimenti l’obbrobrio sia la maggior fama di Talbot. Giura, Borgogna, per l’onore della tua casa, spronato dai pubblici torti patiti in Francia, o di riprendere la città o di morire. E io—com’è certo che Enrico d’Inghilterra vive, e come suo padre qui fu conquistatore; com’è certo che in questa città di recente tradita fu sepolto il cuore del grande Cceur-de-leone— così certo io giuro di prendere la città o di morire.
BORGOGNA	I miei voti son pari compagni dei tuoi voti.
TALBOT	Ma prima d’andare, riguardate questo principe morente, il valoroso Duca di Bedford. (A Bedford) Venite, mio signore, vi collocheremo in qualche luogo migliore, più adatto alla malattia e alla vecchiezza malferma.
BEDFORD	Lord Talbot, non disonoratemi così. Qui io siederò innanzi alle mura di Rouen, e sarò partecipe del vostro bene o del vostro male.
BORGOGNA	Coraggioso Bedford, lasciate ora che vi persuadiamo.
BEDFORD	Non ad andarmene di qui; ché una volta lessi che il valente Pendragon, infermo nella sua lettiga, venne in campo e vinse i suoi nemici. Mi pare ch’io debba rianimare i cuori dei soldati, perché sempre li trovai come me stesso.
TALBOT	Spirito indomito in un petto morente! Sia dunque così; i cieli custodiscano salvo il vecchio Bedford. E ora senza più indugio, valoroso Borgogna, raccogliamo senza tardare le nostre forze, e avventiamoci sul nostro nemico vanaglorioso.
(didascalia)	Esce con Borgogna
TALBOT	Un allarme. Sortite. Entrano Sir John Fastolf e un Capitano
CAPITANO	Dove andate, Sir John Fastolf, in tanta fretta?
FASTOLF	Dove vado? A salvarmi colla fuga. È probabile che abbiamo di nuovo la disfatta.
CAPITANO	Che, volete fuggire, e abbandonare Lord Talbot?
FASTOLF	Sì, tutti i Talbot del mondo, per salvarmi la vita. Esce
CAPITANO	Cavaliere codardo, ti segua la mala fortuna! Esce
(didascalia)	Ritirata. Sortite. Giovanna, Alençon e Carlo fuggono
BEDFORD	Ora, anima quieta, parti quando piaccia al cielo, ché io ho veduto la disfatta dei nostri nemici. Che è la fiducia o la forza dell’uomo insensato? Coloro che dianzi erano arditi coi loro scherni son lieti e ansiosi di salvarsi colla fuga. Bedford muore, ed è portato dentro da due nella sua sedia

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	An alarum. Enter Lord Talbot, the Duke of Burgundy, and the rest of the English soldiers
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 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 fulfilled 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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Un allarme. Entrano Lord Talbot, il Duca di Borgogna e il resto dei soldati inglesi
TALBOT	Perduta e ricuperata di nuovo in un giorno! Questo è un doppio onore, Borgogna; e tuttavia i cieli abbian gloria di questa vittoria!
BORGOGNA	Bellicoso e marziale Talbot, Borgogna ti racchiude nel suo cuore, e là erige le tue nobili gesta come monumenti del valore.
TALBOT	Grazie, gentile Duca. Ma dov’è ora la Pulzella? Credo che il suo vecchio spirito familiare dorma. Dove sono ora le bravate del Bastardo, e le beffe di Carlo? Che, tutti abbattuti? Rouen china il capo per il dolore che una tal valorosa compagnia sia fuggita. Ora daremo qualche ordine nella città, ponendovi alcuni ufficiali esperti, e poi partiremo per Parigi, presso il Re, ché là dimorano il giovane Enrico coi suoi nobili.
BORGOGNA	Ciò che vuole Lord Talbot piace a Borgogna.
TALBOT	Ma pure, prima d’andare, non dimentichiamo il nobile Duca di Bedford poco fa defunto, ma vediamo compiute le sue esequie in Rouen. Un soldato più valoroso mai abbassò lancia; un cuore più gentile mai regnò in corte. Ma i re e i più potenti signori devon morire, ché quella è la fine dell’umana miseria. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Bastard of Orléans, the Duke of Alençon, Joan la Pucelle, and French soldiers
JOAN	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	(to Joan) Search out thy wit for secret policies, And we will make thee famous through the world. ALENÇON (to Joan) 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	Then thus it must be; this doth Joan devise: By fair persuasions mixed with sugared words We will entice the Duke of Burgundy To leave the Talbot and to follow us. 20
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 extirpèd from our provinces. ALENÇON For ever should they be expulsed from France And not have title of an earldom here.
JOAN	Your honours shall perceive how I will work To bring this matter to the wished end.
(didascalia)	Drum sounds afar off
JOAN	Hark, by the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. Here sound an English march There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him. Here sound a French march Now in the rearward comes the Duke and his; Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a parley. We will talk with him.
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound a
JOAN	parley
(didascalia)	CHARLES calling
JOAN	A parley with the Duke of Burgundy.
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Burgundy
BURGUNDY	Who craves a parley with the Burgundy?
JOAN	The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.
BURGUNDY	What sayst thou, Charles?—for I am marching hence.
CHARLES	Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.
JOAN	Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France, Stay. Let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.
BURGUNDY	Speak on, but be not over-tedious.
JOAN	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 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.
(didascalia)	BURGUNDY aside
JOAN	Either she hath bewitched me with her words, Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
JOAN	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 fashioned 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 Orléans 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.
(didascalia)	BURGUNDY aside
JOAN	I am vanquished. These haughty words of hers Have battered me like roaring cannon-shot And made me almost yield upon my knees. (To the others) 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.
(didascalia)	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. ALENÇON Pucelle hath bravely played 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
(didascalia)	3.8 Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Duke of Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Exeter; Richard Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, and Vernon with white roses; the Earl of Suffolk, the Duke of Somerset, and Basset with red roses. To them, with his soldiers, enter Lord Talbot
TALBOT	My gracious prince and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm I have a while given truce unto my wars To do my duty to my sovereign; In sign whereof, this arm that hath reclaimed 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.
(didascalia)	He 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	(to Talbot) 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 resolvèd of your truth, Your faithful service and your toil in war, Yet never have you tasted our reward, Or been reguerdoned with so much as thanks, Because till now we never saw your face. Therefore stand up, Talbot rises and for these good deserts We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place.
(didascalia)	Sennet. 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. Vernon 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt
(didascalia)	4.1 Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Duke of Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Exeter,; Richard Duke of York, and the Earl of Warwick with white roses; the Earl of Suffolk and the Duke of Somerset with red roses; Lord Talbot, and the Governor of Paris
GLOUCESTER	Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head.
WINCHESTER	God save King Henry, of that name the sixth I Winchester crowns the King
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 practices against his state. This shall ye do, so help you righteous God.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Fastolf with a letter
FASTOLF	My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais To haste unto your coronation A letter was delivered to my hands,
(didascalia)	He presents the letters
FASTOLF	Writ to your grace from th’ Duke of Burgundy.
TALBOT	Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee! I vowed, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the Garter from thy craven’s leg, He tears it off Which I have done because unworthily Thou wast installèd 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 ordained, 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 furnished 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	(to Fastolf) 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.
(didascalia)	Exit Fastolf
KING HENRY	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 wrack Together with the pitiful complaints Of such as your oppression feeds upon, Forsaken your pernicious faction And joined 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. (To Talbot) How say you, my lord? Are you not content?
TALBOT	Content, my liege? Yes. But that I am prevented, I should have begged I might have been employed.
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
(didascalia)	Enter Vernon wearing a white rose, and Basset wearing a red rose
VERNON	(to King Henry) Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign.
BASSET	(to King Henry) And me, my lord; grant me the combat, too.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(to King Henry, pointing to Vernon) This is my servant; hear him, noble Prince.
SOMERSET	(to King Henry, pointing to Basset) 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 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 Bewrayed the faintness of my master’s heart.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	There is my pledge. Accept it, Somerset.
VERNON	(to King Henry) Nay, let it rest where it began at first.
BASSET	(to King Henry) 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	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 Destroyed 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, He takes a red rose That anyone 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 crowned. 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, Alençon, and that traitorous rout.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but York, Warwick,
KING HENRY	Vernon, and Exeter
WARWICK	My lord of York, I promise you, the King Prettily, methought, did play the orator.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	An if I wist he did—but let it rest. Other affairs must now be managed.
(didascalia)	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 deciphered 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 ruin, there begins confusion. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Carlo il Delfino, il Bastardo d’Orléans, il Duca d’Alençon, Giovanna la Pulzella e soldati francesi
JOAN	Non vi sgomentate, principi, per questo accidente, né vi dolete che Rouen sia così ricuperata. L’affanno non è cura, ma piuttosto corrosivo, per le cose a cui non si può rimediare. Lasciate che il frenetico Talbot trionfi per un poco, e come un pavone spazzi in giro la sua coda; gli strapperemo le penne e gli toglieremo lo strascico, se solo il Delfino e gli altri si lascino guidare.
CHARLES	Siamo stati guidati da te fin qui, e della tua astuzia non avemmo diffidenza. Un solo improvviso rovescio non genererà mai sfiducia.
BASTARDO	(a Giovanna) Fruga il tuo ingegno per segrete astuzie, e noi ti faremo famosa per tutto il mondo. ALENÇON (a Giovanna) Porremo la tua statua in qualche santo luogo e ti faremo riverire come una beata santa. Adoperati dunque, dolce vergine, per il nostro bene.
JOAN	Allora così deve essere; questo Giovanna escogita: con belle persuasioni mescolate a parole zuccherine alletteremo il Duca di Borgogna a lasciare il Talbot e a seguirci. 20
CHARLES	Sì, perbacco, dolcezza, se potessimo far ciò la Francia non sarebbe luogo per i guerrieri d’Enrico, né quella nazione se ne vanterebbe così con noi, ma sarebbe estirpata dalle nostre province. ALENÇON Per sempre dovrebbero essere espulsi dalla Francia e non aver qui titolo d’una contea.
JOAN	Le vostre signorie vedranno come io opererò per condurre questa faccenda al fine desiderato.
(didascalia)	Tamburo suona in lontananza
JOAN	Udite, dal suono del tamburo potete accorgervi che le loro forze marciano verso Parigi. Qui suona una marcia inglese Là va il Talbot, colle sue insegne dispiegate, e tutte le truppe degl’Inglesi dietro di lui. Qui suona una marcia francese Ora nella retroguardia viene il Duca e i suoi; la Fortuna in suo favore lo fa restare indietro. Chiedete un abboccamento. Parleremo con lui.
(didascalia)	Le trombe suonano un
JOAN	abboccamento
(didascalia)	CHARLES chiamando
JOAN	Un abboccamento col Duca di Borgogna.
(didascalia)	Entra il Duca di Borgogna
BORGOGNA	Chi chiede un abboccamento col Borgogna?
JOAN	Il principesco Carlo di Francia, tuo compatriota.
BORGOGNA	Che dici tu, Carlo?—ché io sto marciando via di qui.
CHARLES	Parla, Pulzella, e incantalo colle tue parole.
JOAN	Valoroso Borgogna, indubitata speranza di Francia, fermati. Lascia che la tua umile ancella ti parli.
BORGOGNA	Parla dunque, ma non essere troppo tediosa.
JOAN	Guarda il tuo paese, guarda la fertile Francia, e vedi le città e i borghi sfigurati dalla devastante rovina del crudele nemico. Come guarda la madre il suo piccolo bimbo quando la morte gli chiude i teneri occhi che spirano, vedi, vedi il morbo che consuma la Francia; contempla le ferite, le ferite più snaturate, che tu stesso hai dato al suo dolente petto. Oh, volgi la tua spada affilata in altra direzione, colpisci coloro che feriscono, e non ferire coloro che soccorrono. Una goccia di sangue tratta dal seno del tuo paese dovrebbe dolerti più di fiumi di sangue straniero. Torna dunque, con un diluvio di lacrime, e lava via le macchie che imbrattano il tuo paese.
(didascalia)	BURGUNDY a parte
JOAN	O ella m’ha stregato colle sue parole, o la natura mi fa d’improvviso intenerire.
JOAN	Inoltre, tutti i Francesi e la Francia gridano contro te, dubitando della tua nascita e della tua legittima stirpe. Con chi t’unisci se non con una nazione altezzosa che non si fiderà di te se non per amor del guadagno? Quando Talbot avrà messo una volta piede in Francia e t’avrà foggiato quello strumento di male, chi allora sarà signore se non Enrico d’Inghilterra, e tu sarai cacciato fuori come un fuggiasco? Richiamiamo alla mente, e nota solo questo per prova: non era il Duca d’Orléans tuo nemico? E non era egli prigioniero in Inghilterra? Ma quando udirono ch’egli era tuo nemico lo posero in libertà, senza pagarne il riscatto, a dispetto di Borgogna e di tutti i suoi amici. Vedi, dunque, che tu combatti contro i tuoi compatrioti, e t’unisci a coloro che saranno i tuoi carnefici. Vieni, vieni, torna; torna, signore errante, Carlo e gli altri ti prenderanno nelle loro braccia.
(didascalia)	BURGUNDY a parte
JOAN	Son vinto. Queste sue altere parole m’han battuto come rombante colpo di cannone e m’han fatto quasi cedere sulle ginocchia. (Agli altri) Perdonami, paese mio, e dolci compatrioti; e voi, signori, accettate questo cordiale e affettuoso abbraccio. Le mie forze e il mio esercito son vostri. Così addio, Talbot. Non mi fiderò più di te.
(didascalia)	Fatto come un Francese—volta e rivolta di nuovo.
CHARLES	Benvenuto, valoroso Duca. La tua amicizia ci ristora.
BASTARDO	E genera nuovo coraggio nei nostri petti. ALENÇON La Pulzella ha valorosamente recitato la sua parte in questo, e merita una corona d’oro.
CHARLES	Ora andiamo, signori miei, e uniamo le nostre forze, e cerchiamo come possiamo nuocere al nemico. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Duke of Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Exeter; Richard Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, and Vernon with white roses; the Earl of Suffolk, the Duke of Somerset, and Basset with red roses. To them, with his soldiers, enter Lord Talbot
TALBOT	My gracious prince and honourable peers, Hearing of your arrival in this realm I have a while given truce unto my wars To do my duty to my sovereign; In sign whereof, this arm that hath reclaimed 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.
(didascalia)	He 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	(to Talbot) 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 resolvèd of your truth, Your faithful service and your toil in war, Yet never have you tasted our reward, Or been reguerdoned with so much as thanks, Because till now we never saw your face. Therefore stand up, Talbot rises and for these good deserts We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury; And in our coronation take your place.
(didascalia)	Sennet. 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. Vernon 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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano re Enrico, il Duca di Gloucester, il Vescovo di Winchester, il Duca di Exeter; Riccardo Duca di York, il Conte di Warwick e Vernon con rose bianche; il Conte di Suffolk, il Duca di Somerset e Basset con rose rosse. A loro, coi suoi soldati, entra Lord Talbot
TALBOT	Mio grazioso principe e onorevoli pari, udendo del vostro arrivo in questo regno ho per un poco dato tregua alle mie guerre per compiere il mio dovere verso il mio sovrano; in segno di che, questo braccio che ha ricondotto alla vostra obbedienza cinquanta fortezze, dodici città e sette borghi murati e forti, oltre a cinquecento prigionieri di riguardo, lascia cadere la sua spada innanzi ai piedi di vostra altezza, e con sommessa lealtà di cuore ascrive la gloria della conquista ottenuta prima al mio Dio, e poi a vostra grazia.
(didascalia)	S’inginocchia
RE ENRICO	È questo il Lord Talbot, zio Gloucester, che è stato sì lungamente residente in Francia?
GLOUCESTER	Sì, se piace a vostra maestà, mio sovrano.
RE ENRICO	(a Talbot) Benvenuto, valoroso capitano e vittorioso signore. Quando ero giovane—e ancora non son vecchio— ben ricordo come mio padre dicesse che un campione più valente mai maneggiò spada. Da tempo eravamo persuasi della vostra fedeltà, del vostro fedele servizio e della vostra fatica in guerra, e tuttavia mai avete gustato la nostra ricompensa, né siete stato rimeritato nemmeno con un grazie, perché fino a ora mai vedemmo il vostro volto. Perciò alzatevi, Talbot si alza e per questi buoni meriti noi qui vi creiamo Conte di Shrewsbury; e nella nostra incoronazione prendete il vostro posto.
(didascalia)	Squillo. Escono tutti tranne Vernon e Basset
VERNON	Ora, messere, a voi che eravate sì infuocato in mare, disprezzando questi colori ch’io porto in onore del mio nobile signore di York, osi tu sostenere le parole di prima che pronunciasti?
BASSET	Sì, messere, bene quanto voi osate patrocinare l’invidioso latrato della vostra lingua insolente contro il mio signore il Duca di Somerset.
VERNON	Tu là, il tuo signore io lo onoro per quel che è.
BASSET	Ma che, che è egli?—un uomo buono quanto York.
VERNON	Udite, non è così. In testimonianza, prendete questo. Vernon lo colpisce
BASSET	Furfante, tu sai che la legge d’arme è tale che a chiunque sguaini una spada è morte immediata, altrimenti questo colpo avrebbe fatto sgorgare il tuo più caro sangue. Ma io andrò da sua maestà e chiederò di poter avere licenza di vendicare questo torto, e allora vedrai ch’io t’incontrerò a tuo danno.
VERNON	Bene, miscredente, io sarò là appena quanto voi, e dopo vi incontrerò prima di quanto vorreste.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Flourish. Enter King Henry, the Duke of Gloucester, the Bishop of Winchester, the Duke of Exeter,; Richard Duke of York, and the Earl of Warwick with white roses; the Earl of Suffolk and the Duke of Somerset with red roses; Lord Talbot, and the Governor of Paris
GLOUCESTER	Lord Bishop, set the crown upon his head.
WINCHESTER	God save King Henry, of that name the sixth I Winchester crowns the King
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 practices against his state. This shall ye do, so help you righteous God.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir John Fastolf with a letter
FASTOLF	My gracious sovereign, as I rode from Calais To haste unto your coronation A letter was delivered to my hands,
(didascalia)	He presents the letters
FASTOLF	Writ to your grace from th’ Duke of Burgundy.
TALBOT	Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee! I vowed, base knight, when I did meet thee next, To tear the Garter from thy craven’s leg, He tears it off Which I have done because unworthily Thou wast installèd 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 ordained, 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 furnished 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	(to Fastolf) 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.
(didascalia)	Exit Fastolf
KING HENRY	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 wrack Together with the pitiful complaints Of such as your oppression feeds upon, Forsaken your pernicious faction And joined 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. (To Talbot) How say you, my lord? Are you not content?
TALBOT	Content, my liege? Yes. But that I am prevented, I should have begged I might have been employed.
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
(didascalia)	Enter Vernon wearing a white rose, and Basset wearing a red rose
VERNON	(to King Henry) Grant me the combat, gracious sovereign.
BASSET	(to King Henry) And me, my lord; grant me the combat, too.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(to King Henry, pointing to Vernon) This is my servant; hear him, noble Prince.
SOMERSET	(to King Henry, pointing to Basset) 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 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 Bewrayed the faintness of my master’s heart.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	There is my pledge. Accept it, Somerset.
VERNON	(to King Henry) Nay, let it rest where it began at first.
BASSET	(to King Henry) 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	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 Destroyed 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, He takes a red rose That anyone 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 crowned. 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, Alençon, and that traitorous rout.
(didascalia)	Flourish. Exeunt all but York, Warwick,
KING HENRY	Vernon, and Exeter
WARWICK	My lord of York, I promise you, the King Prettily, methought, did play the orator.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	An if I wist he did—but let it rest. Other affairs must now be managed.
(didascalia)	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 deciphered 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 ruin, there begins confusion. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Entrano re Enrico, il Duca di Gloucester, il Vescovo di Winchester, il Duca di Exeter,; Riccardo Duca di York e il Conte di Warwick con rose bianche; il Conte di Suffolk e il Duca di Somerset con rose rosse; Lord Talbot, e il Governatore di Parigi
GLOUCESTER	Signor Vescovo, ponete la corona sul suo capo.
WINCHESTER	Dio salvi re Enrico, di quel nome il sesto I Winchester incorona il Re
GLOUCESTER	Ora, Governatore di Parigi, prestate il vostro giuramento di non eleggere altro re che lui; di non stimare amici se non quelli che sono suoi amici, e nemici nessuno se non quelli che mediteranno maliziose pratiche contro il suo stato. Questo voi farete, così v’aiuti il giusto Dio.
(didascalia)	Entra Sir John Fastolf con una lettera
FASTOLF	Mio grazioso sovrano, mentre cavalcavo da Calais per affrettarmi alla vostra incoronazione una lettera fu consegnata nelle mie mani,
(didascalia)	Presenta le lettere
FASTOLF	scritta a vostra grazia dal Duca di Borgogna.
TALBOT	Vergogna al Duca di Borgogna e a te! Giurai, vile cavaliere, quando t’avessi incontrato di nuovo, di strappare la Giarrettiera dalla tua gamba codarda, Egli la strappa via ciò che ho fatto perché immeritamente tu fosti insediato in quell’alto grado.— Perdonatemi, principesco Enrico e voi altri. Questo codardo alla battaglia di Patay, quando in tutto io non avevo che seimila uomini, e i Francesi erano quasi dieci contro uno, prima che ci scontrassimo, o che fosse dato un colpo, come un fido scudiero se ne fuggì; in quell’assalto perdemmo milleduecento uomini. Io stesso e diversi gentiluomini inoltre fummo là sorpresi e presi prigionieri. Giudicate dunque, grandi signori, s’io ho fatto male, o se tali codardi debbano portare quest’ornamento di cavalleria: sì o no?
GLOUCESTER	A dire la verità, questo fatto fu infame e mal si convenne a qualunque uomo comune, molto più a un cavaliere, a un capitano e a un condottiero.
TALBOT	Quando questo ordine fu istituito in principio, signori miei, i Cavalieri della Giarrettiera erano di nobile nascita, valorosi e virtuosi, pieni d’altero coraggio, tali che s’eran fatti credito colle guerre; non temendo la morte né ritraendosi nell’angustia, ma sempre risoluti nei più estremi frangenti. Chi dunque non è fornito di tal sorta non fa che usurpare il sacro nome di cavaliere, profanando quest’ordine onorevolissimo, e dovrebbe—s’io fossi degno d’esser giudice— essere del tutto degradato, come un bifolco nato da una siepe che presume di vantarsi di sangue gentile.
RE ENRICO	(a Fastolf) Macchia dei tuoi compatrioti, tu odi la tua condanna. Vattene dunque, tu che fosti cavaliere. D’ora innanzi ti bandiamo sotto pena di morte.
(didascalia)	Esce Fastolf
RE ENRICO	E ora, mio Lord Protettore, esaminate la lettera mandata da nostro zio, Duca di Borgogna.
GLOUCESTER	Che intende sua grazia d’aver mutato il suo stile? Nient’altro che semplicemente e bruscamente «Al Re»? Ha egli dimenticato ch’egli è il suo sovrano? O questa villana soprascritta preannunzia qualche mutamento nella buona volontà? Che c’è qui? «Io per speciale causa, mosso a compassione della rovina del mio paese insieme cogli pietosi lamenti di coloro di cui la vostra oppressione si nutre, ho abbandonato la vostra perniciosa fazione e mi son unito a Carlo, il legittimo Re di Francia.» Oh mostruoso tradimento! Può esser questo? Che in alleanza, in amicizia e in giuramenti si trovi tale falso e dissimulante inganno?
RE ENRICO	Che? Si ribella mio zio Borgogna?
GLOUCESTER	Sì, signore, ed è divenuto vostro nemico.
RE ENRICO	È quello il peggio che questa lettera contiene?
GLOUCESTER	È il peggio, e tutto, signore, quel ch’egli scrive.
RE ENRICO	Ebbene allora, Lord Talbot là parlerà con lui e gli darà castigo per quest’oltraggio. (A Talbot) Che dite, signore? Non siete contento?
TALBOT	Contento, mio sovrano? Sì. Se non fossi prevenuto, avrei implorato d’essere impiegato.
RE ENRICO	Raccogliete allora le forze e marciate subito contro lui. Fategli vedere quanto male sopportiamo il suo tradimento, e quale offesa sia beffare i propri amici.
TALBOT	Vado, signore, desiderando sempre in cuore che possiate contemplare la disfatta dei vostri nemici. Esce
(didascalia)	Entrano Vernon portando una rosa bianca, e Basset portando una rosa rossa
VERNON	(a re Enrico) Concedetemi il duello, grazioso sovrano.
BASSET	(a re Enrico) E a me, signore; concedete il duello anche a me.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	(a re Enrico, indicando Vernon) Questo è il mio servo; ascoltatelo, nobile Principe.
SOMERSET	(a re Enrico, indicando Basset) E questo è il mio, dolce Enrico; favoritelo.
RE ENRICO	Siate pazienti, signori, e date loro licenza di parlare. Dite, gentiluomini, che vi fa così esclamare, e perché chiedete il duello, o con chi?
VERNON	Con lui, signore; ché egli m’ha fatto torto.
BASSET	E io con lui; ché egli m’ha fatto torto.
RE ENRICO	Qual è quel torto di cui entrambi vi lagnate? Prima lasciate ch’io lo sappia, e poi vi risponderò.
BASSET	Traversando il mare dall’Inghilterra in Francia, questo tale qui con lingua invidiosa e mordace mi rimproverò circa la rosa ch’io porto, dicendo che il colore sanguigno delle foglie rappresentava le guance arrossate del mio padrone quando ostinatamente egli ripugnò alla verità circa una certa questione di diritto discussa fra il Duca di York e lui, con altri vili e ignominiosi termini; a confutazione di quel rozzo rimprovero, e in difesa del merito del mio signore, chiedo il beneficio della legge d’arme.
VERNON	E quella è la mia petizione, nobile signore; ché sebbene egli sembri con artificiosa e sottile invenzione dare una vernice al suo ardito proposito, sappiate però, signore, ch’io fui provocato da lui, ed egli primo fece obiezioni a questa insegna, pronunciando che il pallore di questo fiore rivelava la fiacchezza del cuore del mio padrone.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Non sarà lasciata, Somerset, questa malizia?
SOMERSET	Il vostro privato rancore, mio signore di York, verrà fuori, per quanto astutamente voi lo soffochiate.
RE ENRICO	Buon Dio, che follia regna negli uomini dal cervello malato, quando per una causa sì leggera e frivola debbano nascere tali fazioni rivali? Buoni cugini entrambi, di York e di Somerset, calmatevi, vi prego, e siate in pace.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Sia prima questa discordia provata col combattimento, e poi vostra altezza comanderà una pace.
SOMERSET	La contesa non tocca che noi soli; fra noi stessi decidiamola dunque.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Ecco il mio pegno. Accettalo, Somerset.
VERNON	(a re Enrico) No, lasciate che resti dove cominciò in principio.
BASSET	(a re Enrico) Confermatelo così, mio onorevole signore.
GLOUCESTER	Confermarlo così? Sia confusa la vostra contesa, e periate voi colle vostre audaci chiacchiere! Vassalli presuntuosi, non vi vergognate con questo immodesto e clamoroso oltraggio di turbare e disturbare il Re e noi? E voi, signori miei, mi pare che non facciate bene a tollerare le loro perverse obiezioni, molto meno a prendere occasione dalle loro bocche per suscitare un ammutinamento fra voi stessi. Lasciate ch’io vi persuada a prendere miglior via.
EXETER	Ciò affligge sua altezza. Buoni signori miei, siate amici.
RE ENRICO	Venite qua, voi che vorreste esser combattenti. D’ora innanzi v’ingiungo, se amate il nostro favore, di dimenticare del tutto questa contesa e la sua causa. E voi, signori miei, ricordate dove siamo— in Francia, fra una nazione volubile e incostante. Se essi scorgono la discordia nei nostri volti, e che fra noi stessi siamo in disaccordo, come saranno provocati i loro stomachi rancorosi a volontaria disobbedienza, e a ribellarsi! Inoltre, quale infamia nascerà quando i principi stranieri saranno informati che per un balocco, cosa di nessun conto, i pari e la principale nobiltà di re Enrico si son distrutti e han perduto il regno di Francia! Oh, pensate alla conquista di mio padre, ai miei teneri anni, e non abbandoniamo per un’inezia ciò che fu comperato col sangue. Lasciate ch’io sia arbitro in questa dubbiosa contesa. Non vedo ragione, s’io porto questa rosa, Prende una rosa rossa perché alcuno debba per ciò sospettare ch’io inclini più a Somerset che a York. Entrambi sono miei parenti, ed entrambi io amo. Tanto bene potrebbero rimproverarmi la mia corona perché, in verità, il Re di Scozia è incoronato. Ma le vostre discrezioni meglio sanno persuadere di quanto io sia capace d’istruire o insegnare, e perciò, come qui venimmo in pace, così continuiamo ancora in pace e in amore. Cugino di York, noi istituiamo vostra grazia nostro reggente in queste parti di Francia; e voi, buon mio signore di Somerset, unite le vostre schiere di cavalieri colle sue bande di fanti, e come veri sudditi, figli dei vostri progenitori, andate lietamente insieme e sfogate la vostra collera irata sui vostri nemici. Noi stessi, il mio Lord Protettore e gli altri, dopo qualche tregua, torneremo a Calais, e di là in Inghilterra, dove spero fra non molto d’esser presentato dalle vostre vittorie con Carlo, Alençon e quella masnada traditrice.
(didascalia)	Squillo di trombe. Escono tutti tranne York, Warwick,
RE ENRICO	Vernon ed Exeter
WARWICK	Mio signore di York, vi assicuro, il Re ha fatto, mi parve, garbatamente l’oratore.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	E così fece; ma tuttavia non mi piace ch’egli porti l’insegna di Somerset.
WARWICK	Bah, quello fu solo suo capriccio; non biasimatelo. Oso presumere, dolce Principe, ch’egli non pensò male.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	E se sapessi ch’egli lo fece—ma lasciamo stare. Altri affari devono ora esser trattati.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Exeter
EXETER	Bene facesti, Riccardo, a soffocare la tua voce; ché se le passioni del tuo cuore fossero erompute temo che avremmo veduto là decifrato più rancoroso dispetto, più furiose e infuriate risse, di quanto ancora si possa immaginare o supporre. Ma comunque sia, nessun uomo semplice che veda questa stridente discordia della nobiltà, questo spingersi l’un l’altro nella corte, questo fazioso scambiarsi dei loro favoriti, può non presagirne qualche mal evento. È molto quando gli scettri sono in mani di bambini, ma più quando l’invidia genera snaturata divisione: là viene la rovina, là comincia la confusione. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot with a trumpeter and drummer and soldiers before Bordeaux
TALBOT	Go to the gates of Bordeaux, trumpeter. Summon their general unto the wall. The trumpeter sounds a parley. Enter French General, aloft English John Talbot, captain, 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 proffered 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 pitched 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 fire their dangerous artillery Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot. Lo, there thou stand’st, a breathing valiant man Of an invincible unconquered 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.
(didascalia)	Drum afar off
GENERAL	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.
(didascalia)	Exit one or more
TALBOT	O negligent and heedless discipline, How are we parked 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! Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra Lord Talbot con un trombettiere e un tamburino e soldati dinanzi a Bordeaux
TALBOT	Va’ alle porte di Bordeaux, trombettiere. Chiama il loro generale sulle mura. Il trombettiere suona un abboccamento. Entra il Generale francese, in alto L’inglese John Talbot, capitano, vi chiama fuori, servo in armi d’Enrico Re d’Inghilterra; e questo egli vuole: aprite le porte della vostra città, siate umili con noi, chiamate vostro il mio sovrano e rendetegli omaggio come sudditi obbedienti, e io ritirerò me e il mio sanguinoso esercito. Ma se aggrottate la fronte a questa pace offerta, voi provocate il furore dei miei tre seguaci— la magra fame, l’acciaio che squarta e il fuoco che s’arrampica— i quali in un momento raderanno al suolo le vostre maestose torri che sfidano l’aria se voi rifiutate l’offerta del loro amore.
GENERALE	Tu, sinistra e paurosa civetta della morte, terrore della nostra nazione e suo sanguinoso flagello, il termine della tua tirannia s’avvicina. Su noi tu non puoi entrare se non per la morte, ché io dichiaro che siamo bene fortificati e abbastanza forti per uscire e combattere. Se ti ritiri, il Delfino bene equipaggiato sta cogli lacci della guerra per irretirti. Da entrambe le tue mani vi son schiere accampate a murarti la libertà della fuga, e in nessun luogo puoi tu volgerti per scampo senza che la morte ti stia dinanzi con manifesta rovina, e la pallida distruzione t’incontri in faccia. Diecimila Francesi han preso il sacramento di scaricare il fuoco della loro pericolosa artiglieria su nessun’anima cristiana se non sull’inglese Talbot. Ecco, là tu stai, uomo valoroso e vivente d’invincibile e insoggiogato spirito. Questa è l’ultima gloria della tua lode, ch’io tuo nemico ti rendo con essa, ché prima che la clessidra che ora comincia a scorrere compia il corso della sua ora di sabbia, questi occhi che ti vedono ora bene colorito ti vedranno inaridito, sanguinante, pallido e morto.
(didascalia)	Tamburo in lontananza
GENERALE	Udite, udite, il tamburo del Delfino, campana d’avviso, canta grave musica alla tua timorosa anima, e il mio suonerà a rintocchi la tua funesta partenza. Esce
TALBOT	Non favoleggia. Odo il nemico. Fuori, alcuni cavalieri leggeri, e ispezionate le loro ali.
(didascalia)	Esce uno o più
TALBOT	O negligente e sconsiderata disciplina, come siamo rinchiusi e serrati in uno steccato!— un piccolo branco di timorosi cervi d’Inghilterra sbigottiti da una muta latrante di cagnacci francesi. Se siamo cervi inglesi, siamolo dunque nel sangue, non per cadere come scarti a un solo morso, ma piuttosto, cervi rabbiosi e disperati, volgetevi sui sanguinosi cani con teste d’acciaio e fate stare i codardi lontani, tenuti a bada. Venda ognuno la sua vita cara quanto la mia e ci troveranno cervi cari, amici miei. Dio e San Giorgio, Talbot e il diritto d’Inghilterra, facciano prosperare le nostre insegne in questa pericolosa battaglia! Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter a Messenger that meets the Duke of York. Enter Richard Duke of York with a trumpeter and many soldiers
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Are not the speedy scouts returned again That dogged the mighty army of the Dauphin?
MESSENGER	They are returned, my lord, and give it out That he is marched to Bordeaux with his power To fight with Talbot. As he marched along, By your espials were discovered Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led, Which joined with him and made their march for Bordeaux.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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!
(didascalia)	Enter another messenger, 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 waste of iron And hemmed about with grim destruction. To Bordeaux, warlike Duke; to Bordeaux, York, Else farewell Talbot, France, and England’s honour.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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 distressed lord.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Alas, what joy shall noble Talbot have To bid his young son welcome to his grave? Away—vexation almost stops my breath That sundered 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, Poitiers, and Tours are won away ’Long all of Somerset and his delay.
(didascalia)	Exeunt all but Lucy
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,
(didascalia)	Lives, honours, lands, and all hurry to loss. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra un Messaggero che incontra il Duca di York. Entra Riccardo Duca di York con un trombettiere e molti soldati
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Non son tornate le rapide vedette che pedinavano il potente esercito del Delfino?
MESSAGGERO	Son tornate, signore, e riferiscono ch’egli ha marciato su Bordeaux colle sue forze per combattere con Talbot. Mentre marciava, dalle vostre spie furon scoperte due schiere più potenti di quella che il Delfino guidava, le quali s’unirono a lui e presero la marcia verso Bordeaux.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Un flagello su quel furfante di Somerset che così ritarda i rinforzi promessi di cavalieri che furon levati per questo assedio! Il celebre Talbot attende il mio aiuto, e io son schernito da un traditore furfante e non posso soccorrere il nobile cavaliere. Dio lo conforti in questa necessità; se egli perisce, addio guerre in Francia!
(didascalia)	Entra un altro messaggero, Sir William Lucy
LUCY	Tu, principesco capo della nostra forza inglese, mai così necessario sulla terra di Francia, sprona in soccorso del nobile Talbot, il quale ora è cinto da una distesa di ferro e circondato da truce distruzione. A Bordeaux, bellicoso Duca; a Bordeaux, York, altrimenti addio Talbot, Francia e onore d’Inghilterra.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	O Dio, che Somerset, il quale in cuore superbo trattiene i miei stendardi, fosse al posto di Talbot! Così salveremmo un valoroso gentiluomo perdendo un traditore e un codardo. Ira insensata e furore iracondo mi fanno piangere, che così noi moriamo mentre negligenti traditori dormono.
LUCY	Oh, mandate qualche soccorso al signore in angustia.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Egli muore, noi perdiamo; io rompo la mia parola di guerra; noi piangiamo, la Francia sorride; noi perdiamo, essi ogni giorno guadagnano, tutto per causa di questo vile traditore Somerset.
LUCY	Allora Dio abbia pietà dell’anima del valoroso Talbot, e di suo figlio il giovane John, che due ore fa incontrai in viaggio verso il suo bellicoso padre. Da sette anni Talbot non vedeva suo figlio, e ora s’incontrano dove entrambe le loro vite son finite.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Ahimè, quale gioia avrà il nobile Talbot a dare al suo giovane figlio il benvenuto nella sua tomba? Via—l’angoscia quasi mi ferma il respiro che amici separati s’incontrino nell’ora della morte. Lucy, addio. Non più può la mia fortuna che maledire la causa per cui non posso soccorrer quell’uomo. Maine, Blois, Poitiers e Tours son perdute tutto per causa di Somerset e del suo indugio.
(didascalia)	Escono tutti tranne Lucy
LUCY	Così mentre l’avvoltoio della sedizione si pasce nel seno di tali grandi comandanti, la sonnolenta negligenza consegna alla perdita la conquista del nostro conquistatore appena freddo, quell’uomo eternamente vivo della memoria, Enrico Quinto. Mentre essi l’un l’altro s’attraversano,
(didascalia)	vite, onori, terre e tutto precipitano alla perdita. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Duke of Somerset with his army
SOMERSET	(to a Captain) 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Lucy
CAPTAIN	Here is Sir William Lucy, who with me Set from our o’ermatched forces forth for aid.
SOMERSET	How now, Sir William, whither were you sent?
LUCY	Whither, my lord? From bought and sold Lord Talbot, Who, ringed 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, unadvantaged, 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. Orléans the Bastard, Charles, and Burgundy, Alençon, René, 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 horse 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 entrapped the noble-minded Talbot. Never to England shall he bear his life, But dies betrayed to fortune by your strife.
SOMERSET	Come, go. I will dispatch the horsemen straight.
(didascalia)	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.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Duca di Somerset col suo esercito
SOMERSET	(a un Capitano) È troppo tardi, non posso mandarli ora. Questa spedizione fu da York e da Talbot troppo temerariamente ordita. Tutta la nostra forza generale potrebbe con una sortita della città stessa esser affrontata. Il troppo ardito Talbot ha appannato tutto lo splendore del suo antico onore con questa sconsiderata, disperata, folle avventura. York lo spinse a combattere e a morire in vergogna perché, morto Talbot, il grande York portasse il nome.
(didascalia)	Entra Lucy
CAPITANO	Ecco Sir William Lucy, che con me partì dalle nostre forze sopraffatte in cerca d’aiuto.
SOMERSET	Ebbene, Sir William, dove foste mandato?
LUCY	Dove, signore? Da Lord Talbot comprato e venduto, il quale, cerchiato d’ardita avversità, grida invocando il nobile York e Somerset perché respingano l’assalitrice morte dalle sue debili legioni; e mentre l’onorevole capitano là stilla sudore di sangue dalle sue membra stanche di guerra e, senza vantaggio, indugiando aspetta il soccorso, voi, sue false speranze, fiducia dell’onore d’Inghilterra, vi tenete lontani con indegna rivalità. Non tenga la vostra privata discordia lontani i soccorsi levati che dovrebbero prestargli aiuto, mentr’egli, illustre nobile gentiluomo, rende la sua vita a un mondo di forze avverse. Il Bastardo d’Orléans, Carlo e Borgogna, Alençon, Renato, lo circondano, e Talbot perisce per vostra mancanza.
SOMERSET	York lo spinse; York doveva mandargli aiuto.
LUCY	E York altrettanto grida contro vostra grazia, giurando che voi trattenete i suoi cavalli levati raccolti per questa spedizione.
SOMERSET	York mente. Egli poteva mandare e avere i cavalli. Gli devo poco dovere e meno amore, e reputo turpe vergogna adularlo mandando.
LUCY	La frode d’Inghilterra, non la forza di Francia, ha ora irretito il nobile animo di Talbot. Mai in Inghilterra egli riporterà la sua vita, ma muore tradito alla fortuna dalla vostra contesa.
SOMERSET	Venite, andiamo. Spedirò i cavalieri subito.
(didascalia)	Entro sei ore saranno in suo aiuto.
LUCY	Troppo tardi viene il soccorso. Egli è preso o ucciso, ché fuggire non poteva se anche avesse voluto fuggire, e fuggire Talbot non vorrebbe mai, quand’anche potesse.
SOMERSET	S’egli è morto, valoroso Talbot, allora addio.
LUCY	La sua fama vive nel mondo, la sua vergogna in voi.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Lord Talbot and his son John
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	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, 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	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 saved in thee.
JOHN	No part of him but will be shamed 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 your self 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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Lord Talbot e suo figlio John
TALBOT	O giovane John Talbot, io mandai a chiamarti per istruirti negli stratagemmi della guerra, perché il nome di Talbot in te rivivesse quando l’età senza linfa e le membra debili e inabili avessero condotto tuo padre alla sua sedia cadente. Ma oh—maligne e infauste stelle!— ora tu sei venuto a un banchetto di morte, a un terribile e inevitabile pericolo. Perciò, caro ragazzo, monta sul mio più rapido cavallo, e io ti mostrerò come potrai scampare con subita fuga. Vieni, non indugiare, vattene.
JOHN	Il mio nome è Talbot, e son io vostro figlio, e dovrò fuggire? Oh, se voi amate mia madre, non disonorate il suo onorevole nome facendo di me un bastardo e uno schiavo. Il mondo dirà che non è sangue di Talbot colui che vilmente fuggì quando il nobile Talbot stette fermo.
TALBOT	Fuggi per vendicare la mia morte s’io sia ucciso.
JOHN	Chi fugge così non tornerà mai più.
TALBOT	Se restiamo entrambi, entrambi certo moriremo.
JOHN	Allora lasciate restar me e, padre, fuggite voi. La vostra perdita è grande; tale dev’essere il vostro riguardo. Il mio valore ignoto, nessuna perdita si conosce in me. Della mia morte i Francesi potran vantarsi poco; della vostra sì: in voi tutte le speranze son perdute. La fuga non può macchiare l’onore che avete guadagnato, ma il mio sì, che nessuna impresa ha compiuto. Voi fuggiste per vantaggio, ognuno lo giurerà, ma se io mi piego, diranno che fu per paura. Non v’è speranza ch’io mai stia fermo se alla prima ora mi ritraggo e fuggo via. Qui sul mio ginocchio io imploro la morte piuttosto che una vita conservata coll’infamia.
TALBOT	Giaceranno tutte le speranze di tua madre in una sola tomba?
JOHN	Sì, piuttosto che svergognare il grembo di mia madre.
TALBOT	Per la mia benedizione ti comando d’andare.
JOHN	A combattere andrò, ma non a fuggire il nemico.
TALBOT	Parte di tuo padre può esser salvata in te.
JOHN	Nessuna parte di lui che non sia svergognata in me.
TALBOT	Tu non avesti mai fama, né la puoi perdere.
JOHN	Sì, il vostro nome illustre—lo oltraggerà la fuga?
TALBOT	L’ordine di tuo padre ti monderà da quella macchia.
JOHN	Voi non potete testimoniare per me, essendo ucciso. Se la morte è così manifesta, fuggiamo allora entrambi.
TALBOT	E lasciare qui i miei seguaci a combattere e morire? La mia vecchiezza non fu mai contaminata da tale vergogna.
JOHN	E dovrà la mia gioventù esser colpevole di tal biasimo? Non più posso esser separato dal vostro fianco di quanto voi stesso possiate dividere in due il vostro essere. Restate, andate, fate quel che volete: il simile fo io, ché vivere non voglio se mio padre muore.
TALBOT	Allora qui prendo congedo da te, bel figlio, nato per eclissare la tua vita questo pomeriggio. Vieni, fianco a fianco insieme viviamo e moriamo, e anima con anima dalla Francia al cielo voliamo. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions, wherein Lord Talbot’s son John is hemmed about by French soldiers and Talbot rescues him. The English drive off the French
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? (To John) Pause and take thy breath. I gave thee life, and rescued thee from death.
JOHN	O twice my father, twice am I thy son: The life thou gav‘st me first was lost and done Till with thy warlike sword, despite of fate, To my determined time thou gav’st new date.
TALBOT	When from the Dauphin’s crest thy sword struck fire It warmed thy father’s heart with proud desire Of bold-faced victory. Then leaden age, Quickened with youthful spleen and warlike rage, Beat down Alençon, Orléans, Burgundy, And from the pride of Gallia rescued thee. The ireful Bastard Orléans, 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 sealed 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 today die not with Frenchmen’s rage, Tomorrow I shall die with mickle age. By me they nothing gain, and 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.
JOHN	The sword of Orléans 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.
TALBOT	Then follow thou thy desp’rate 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

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Sortite, in cui John figlio di Lord Talbot è circondato da soldati francesi e Talbot lo soccorre. Gl’Inglesi respingono i Francesi
TALBOT	San Giorgio e vittoria! Combattete, soldati, combattete! Il Reggente ha rotto la sua parola con Talbot, e ci ha lasciati al furore della spada di Francia. Dov’è John Talbot? (A John) Fermati e riprendi fiato. Io ti diedi la vita, e ti sottrassi alla morte.
JOHN	Oh, due volte mio padre, due volte io son tuo figlio: la vita che tu mi desti prima era perduta e finita finché colla tua bellicosa spada, a dispetto del fato, al mio tempo segnato tu desti nuova scadenza.
TALBOT	Quando dal cimiero del Delfino la tua spada trasse fuoco essa scaldò il cuore di tuo padre con superbo desiderio d’audace vittoria. Allora la plumbea vecchiezza, ravvivata da giovanile stizza e da furore guerriero, abbatté Alençon, Orléans, Borgogna, e dall’orgoglio della Gallia ti sottrasse. L’iracondo Bastardo d’Orléans, che trasse sangue da te, ragazzo mio, e che ebbe la verginità del tuo primo scontro, io tosto affrontai, e scambiando colpi, presto versai un po’ del suo sangue bastardo, e per obbrobrio gli parlai così: «Contaminato, vile e mal generato è il sangue tuo ch’io spargo, meschino e ben povero, in cambio di quel puro sangue mio che tu strappasti a Talbot, mio valoroso ragazzo.» Qui, mentr’io miravo a distruggere il Bastardo, venne forte soccorso. Parla alla cura di tuo padre: non sei tu stanco, John? Come stai? Vuoi tu pur lasciare la battaglia, ragazzo, e fuggire, ora che sei suggellato figlio della cavalleria? Fuggi per vendicare la mia morte quando io sia morto; l’aiuto d’uno solo mi giova poco. Oh, troppa follia è, bene lo so, arrischiare tutte le nostre vite in una piccola barca. S’io oggi non muoio per il furore dei Francesi, domani morrò di gran vecchiezza. Per me essi nulla guadagnano, e s’io resto non è che l’accorciare la mia vita d’un giorno. In te muore tua madre, il nome della nostra casa, la vendetta della mia morte, la tua gioventù e la fama d’Inghilterra. Tutte queste cose e più arrischiamo col tuo restare; tutte queste son salve se tu vuoi fuggire via.
JOHN	La spada d’Orléans non m’ha fatto male; queste vostre parole traggono il sangue vitale dal mio cuore. Per quel vantaggio, comperato con tanta vergogna, per salvare una meschina vita e uccidere la fulgida fama, prima che il giovane Talbot dal vecchio Talbot fugga cada e muoia il codardo cavallo che mi porta; e sia io simile ai ragazzi contadini di Francia, a essere scherno della vergogna e soggetto di sventura! Certamente, per tutta la gloria che avete guadagnato, e se io fuggo non son figlio di Talbot. Non parlate dunque più di fuga; non giova. Se figlio a Talbot, ch’io muoia ai piedi di Talbot.
TALBOT	Segui allora il tuo disperato padre di Creta, tu Icaro; la tua vita m’è dolce. Se vuoi combattere, combatti al fianco di tuo padre, e provati degno di lode, moriamo con orgoglio. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Lord 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 smeared with captivity, Young Talbot’s valour makes me smile at thee. When he perceived me shrink and on my knee, His bloody sword he brandished over me, And like a hungry lion did commence Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience. But when my angry guardant stood alone, Tend‘ring my ruin and assailed of none, Dizzy-eyed fury and great rage of heart Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clust’ring 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.
(didascalia)	Enter English soldiers with John Talbot’s body, borne
SERVANT	O my odear lord, lo where your son is borne.
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. (To John) O thou whose wounds become hard-favoured 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 today’. Come, come, and lay him in his father’s arms. Soldiers lay John in Talbot’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.
(didascalia)	He dies. Alarum. Exeunt soldiers leaving the bodies
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the dukes of Alencon and Burgundy, the Bastard of Orléans, and Joan la Pucelle
CHARLES	Had York and Somerset brought rescue in, We should have found a bloody day of this.
BASTARD	How the young whelp of Talbot’s, raging wood, Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen’s blood!
JOAN	Once I encountered him, and thus I said: ‘Thou maiden youth, be vanquished by a maid.’ But with a proud, majestical high scorn He answered 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 inhearsèd in the arms Of the most bloody nurser of his harms.
BASTARD	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.
(didascalia)	Enter Sir William Lucy with a French herald
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 Wexford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrich 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 Maréchal to Henry the Sixth Of all his wars within the realm of France?
JOAN	Here’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 magnifi’st with all these titles Stinking and flyblown lies here at our feet.
LUCY	Is Talbot slain, the Frenchmen’s only scourge, Your kingdom’s terror and black Nemesis? O, were mine eye-balls into bullets turned, 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	(to Charles) I think this upstart is old Talbot’s ghost, He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit. For God’s sake let him have them. 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 reared A phoenix that shall make all France afeard.
CHARLES	So we be rid of them, do with them what thou wilt.
(didascalia)	Exeunt Lucy and herald with the bodies
CHARLES	And now to Paris in this conquering vein. All will be ours, now bloody Talbot’s slain. Exeunt
(didascalia)	5.1 Sennet. Enter King Henry, the Dukes of Gloucester and Exeter, and others
KING HENRY	(to Gloucester) 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	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	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	Marriage, uncle? Alas, my years are young, And fitter is my study and my books Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
(didascalia)	Yet call th’ambassadors, Exit one or more
KING HENRY	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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bishop of Winchester, now in cardinal’s habit, and three ambassadors, one a Papal Legate
EXETER	(aside) What, is my lord of Winchester installed And called 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	My lords ambassadors, your several suits Have been considered and debated on. Your purpose is both good and reasonable, 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.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER to ambassadors
KING HENRY	And for the proffer of my lord your master, I have informed 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.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to ambassadors
KING HENRY	In argument and proof of which contract Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. (To Gloucester) And so, my lord Protector, see them guarded And safely brought to Dover, wherein shipped, Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally all but Winchester and Legate
WINCHESTER	Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive The sum of money which I promised Should be delivered to his holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
(didascalia)	I will attend upon your lordship’s leisure. Exit
WINCHESTER	Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive That nor in birth or for authority The Bishop will be overborne by thee. I’ll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
(didascalia)	Or sack this country with a mutiny. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Sortite. Entra il vecchio Lord Talbot condotto da un Servo
TALBOT	Dov’è la mia altra vita? La mia propria è ita. Oh, dov’è il giovane Talbot, dov’è il valoroso John? Trionfante morte imbrattata di cattività, il valore del giovane Talbot mi fa sorridere di te. Quando egli mi vide vacillare e sul mio ginocchio, la sua spada sanguinosa brandì sopra di me, e come un leone affamato diede principio a rudi gesta di furore e a severa impazienza. Ma quando il mio irato guardiano stette solo, vegliando la mia rovina e non assalito da nessuno, un furore dagli occhi vertiginosi e un grande furore di cuore d’improvviso lo fecero balzare dal mio fianco dentro la folta battaglia dei Francesi, e in quel mare di sangue il mio ragazzo immerse il suo spirito troppo alto; e là morì il mio Icaro, il mio fiore, nel suo orgoglio.
(didascalia)	Entrano soldati inglesi col corpo di John Talbot, portato
SERVO	O mio ocaro signore, ecco dove è portato vostro figlio.
TALBOT	Tu, grottesca morte, che qui ci ridi in derisione, fra poco dalla tua insultante tirannia, congiunti in vincoli di perpetuità, due Talbot alati per il cielo pigro a tuo dispetto scamperanno alla mortalità. (A John) O tu le cui ferite si fanno sgraziata morte, parla a tuo padre prima che tu renda il fiato. Sfida la morte parlando, voglia essa o no; immaginala un Francese e tuo nemico.— Povero ragazzo, egli sorride, mi pare, come a dire: «Se la morte fosse stata francese, allora la morte oggi sarebbe morta.» Venite, venite, e deponetelo nelle braccia di suo padre. I soldati depongono John nelle braccia di Talbot Il mio spirito non può più sopportare questi danni. Soldati, addio. Ho quel che volevo avere, ora le mie vecchie braccia son la tomba del giovane John Talbot.
(didascalia)	Muore. Allarme. Escono i soldati lasciando i corpi
(didascalia)	Entrano Carlo il Delfino, i duchi d’Alençon e di Borgogna, il Bastardo d’Orléans e Giovanna la Pulzella
CHARLES	Se York e Somerset avessero portato soccorso, avremmo trovato in questo un giorno sanguinoso.
BASTARDO	Come il giovane cucciolo di Talbot, furente e forsennato, immerse la sua piccola spada nel sangue dei Francesi!
JOAN	Una volta io l’affrontai, e così dissi: «Tu, giovinetto verginale, sii vinto da una vergine.» Ma con un superbo, maestoso, alto disprezzo egli rispose così: «Il giovane Talbot non nacque per esser preda d’una sgualdrinella.» E così slanciandosi nelle viscere dei Francesi, mi lasciò con orgoglio, come indegna di scontro.
BORGOGNA	Senza dubbio ne sarebbe uscito un nobile cavaliere. Vedete dove giace, deposto come in feretro nelle braccia del più sanguinoso nutritore dei suoi danni.
BASTARDO	Fateli a pezzi, spezzatene le ossa in parti, la cui vita fu la gloria d’Inghilterra, la meraviglia della Gallia.
CHARLES	Oh no, astenetevi; ché ciò da cui siam fuggiti durante la vita, non gli facciam torto da morto.
(didascalia)	Entra Sir William Lucy con un araldo francese
LUCY	Araldo, conducimi alla tenda del Delfino per sapere chi ha ottenuto la gloria del giorno.
CHARLES	Con quale sommesso messaggio sei tu mandato?
LUCY	Sottomissione, Delfino? È una mera parola francese. Noi guerrieri inglesi non sappiamo che significhi. Vengo a sapere che prigionieri tu hai preso, e a passare in rassegna i corpi dei morti.
CHARLES	Prigionieri tu chiedi? L’inferno è la nostra prigione. Ma dimmi chi tu cerchi.
LUCY	Ma dov’è il grande Alcide del campo, il valoroso Lord Talbot, Conte di Shrewsbury, creato per il suo raro successo nelle armi gran Conte di Wexford, Waterford e Valence, Lord Talbot di Goodrich e Urchinfield, Lord Strange di Blackmere, Lord Verdun d’Alton, Lord Cromwell di Wingfield, Lord Furnival di Sheffield, il tre volte vittorioso signore di Falconbridge, Cavaliere del nobile ordine di San Giorgio, degno di San Michele e del Toson d’Oro, gran Maresciallo d’Enrico Sesto in tutte le sue guerre dentro il regno di Francia?
JOAN	Ecco davvero uno sciocco e pomposo stile. Il Turco, che ha cinquantadue regni, non scrive uno stile così tedioso come questo. Colui che tu magnifichi con tutti questi titoli giace qui ai nostri piedi puzzolente e coperto di mosche.
LUCY	È ucciso Talbot, unico flagello dei Francesi, terrore del vostro regno e nera Nemesi? Oh, se i miei globi oculari fossero mutati in palle, ch’io con furore potessi scagliarli sui vostri volti! Oh, potessi io soltanto richiamare in vita questi morti!— basterebbe a spaventare il regno di Francia. Fosse solo lasciato qui fra voi il suo ritratto sbigottirebbe il più superbo di voi tutti. Datemi i loro corpi, ch’io possa portarli via di qui e dar loro sepoltura come si conviene al loro merito.
JOAN	(a Carlo) Credo che questo arrogante sia lo spettro del vecchio Talbot, tanto egli parla con superbo spirito di comando. Per amor di Dio lasciate che li abbia. A tenerli qui non farebbero che puzzare e imputridire l’aria.
CHARLES	Va’, portane via i corpi.
LUCY	Li porterò via di qui, ma dalle loro ceneri sarà innalzata una fenice che farà tremar tutta la Francia.
CHARLES	Purché ce ne liberiamo, fanne quel che vuoi.
(didascalia)	Escono Lucy e l’araldo coi corpi
CHARLES	E ora a Parigi in questa vena di conquista. Tutto sarà nostro, ora che il sanguinoso Talbot è ucciso. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Sennet. Enter King Henry, the Dukes of Gloucester and Exeter, and others
KING HENRY	(to Gloucester) 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	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	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	Marriage, uncle? Alas, my years are young, And fitter is my study and my books Than wanton dalliance with a paramour.
(didascalia)	Yet call th’ambassadors, Exit one or more
KING HENRY	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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bishop of Winchester, now in cardinal’s habit, and three ambassadors, one a Papal Legate
EXETER	(aside) What, is my lord of Winchester installed And called 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	My lords ambassadors, your several suits Have been considered and debated on. Your purpose is both good and reasonable, 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.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER to ambassadors
KING HENRY	And for the proffer of my lord your master, I have informed 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.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY to ambassadors
KING HENRY	In argument and proof of which contract Bear her this jewel, pledge of my affection. (To Gloucester) And so, my lord Protector, see them guarded And safely brought to Dover, wherein shipped, Commit them to the fortune of the sea.
(didascalia)	Exeunt severally all but Winchester and Legate
WINCHESTER	Stay, my lord legate; you shall first receive The sum of money which I promised Should be delivered to his holiness For clothing me in these grave ornaments.
(didascalia)	I will attend upon your lordship’s leisure. Exit
WINCHESTER	Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferior to the proudest peer. Humphrey of Gloucester, thou shalt well perceive That nor in birth or for authority The Bishop will be overborne by thee. I’ll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee,
(didascalia)	Or sack this country with a mutiny. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Squillo. Entrano re Enrico, i Duchi di Gloucester e di Exeter, e altri
RE ENRICO	(a Gloucester) Avete esaminato le lettere del Papa, dell’Imperatore e del Conte d’Armagnac?
GLOUCESTER	Sì, signore, e il loro intento è questo: umilmente supplicano vostra eccellenza che si concluda una pia pace fra i regni d’Inghilterra e di Francia.
RE ENRICO	Come giudica vostra grazia la loro proposta?
GLOUCESTER	Bene, mio buon signore, e come unico mezzo per arrestare l’effusione del nostro sangue cristiano e stabilire la quiete da ogni parte.
RE ENRICO	Sì, perbacco, zio; ché sempre pensai ch’era cosa empia e snaturata che tale immanità e sanguinosa contesa regnasse fra i professori d’una sola fede.
GLOUCESTER	Inoltre, signore, per effettuare più presto e stringere più sicuro questo nodo d’amicizia, il Conte d’Armagnac, strettamente congiunto a Carlo— uomo di grande autorità in Francia— offre la sua unica figlia a vostra grazia in matrimonio, con ampia e sontuosa dote.
RE ENRICO	Matrimonio, zio? Ahimè, i miei anni son giovani, e più mi convengono lo studio e i miei libri che lascivo trastullo con un’amante.
(didascalia)	Pure chiamate gli ambasciatori, Esce uno o più
RE ENRICO	e come vi piace, così abbiano essi tutti la loro risposta. Sarò bene contento di qualunque scelta tenda alla gloria di Dio e al bene del mio paese.
(didascalia)	Entrano il Vescovo di Winchester, ora in abito cardinalizio, e tre ambasciatori, uno dei quali Legato Papale
EXETER	(a parte) Che, è il mio signore di Winchester insediato ed elevato al grado di cardinale? Allora m’accorgo che si verificherà ciò che Enrico Quinto un tempo profetizzò: «Se una volta egli giunga a esser cardinale, farà il suo cappello pari alla corona.»
RE ENRICO	Miei signori ambasciatori, le vostre diverse richieste sono state considerate e discusse. Il vostro proposito è buono e ragionevole, e perciò siamo fermamente risoluti a stendere le condizioni d’una amichevole pace, le quali per mezzo del mio signore di Winchester intendiamo che siano subito trasportate in Francia.
(didascalia)	GLOUCESTER agli ambasciatori
RE ENRICO	E quanto all’offerta del mio signore vostro padrone, ho informato sua altezza sì per esteso che, piacendogli le virtuose doti della dama, la sua bellezza e il valore della sua dote, egli intende ch’ella sia regina d’Inghilterra.
(didascalia)	KING HENRY agli ambasciatori
RE ENRICO	In argomento e prova di questo patto portatele questo gioiello, pegno del mio affetto. (A Gloucester) E così, mio signore Protettore, vedete che siano scortati e condotti sicuri a Dover, dove imbarcati, affidateli alla fortuna del mare.
(didascalia)	Escono separatamente tutti tranne Winchester e il Legato
WINCHESTER	Fermatevi, mio signore legato; prima riceverete la somma di denaro che promisi fosse consegnata a sua santità per avermi rivestito di questi gravi ornamenti.
(didascalia)	Attenderò l’agio di vostra signoria. Esce
WINCHESTER	Ora Winchester non si sottometterà, io credo, né sarà inferiore al più superbo dei pari. Umfredo di Gloucester, tu bene t’accorgerai che né per nascita né per autorità il Vescovo sarà da te sopraffatto. O ti farò piegare e curvare il ginocchio,
(didascalia)	o saccheggerò questo paese con un ammutinamento. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin reading a letter, the Dukes of Burgundy and Alençon, the Bastard of Orléans, René Duke of Anjou, and oan la Pucelle
CHARLES	These news, my lords, may cheer our drooping spirits. ‘Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt And turn again unto the warlike French. ALENÇON Then march to Paris, royal Charles of France, And keep not back your powers in dalliance.
JOAN	Peace be amongst them if they turn to us; Else, ruin combat with their palaces!
(didascalia)	Enter a 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.
(didascalia)	JOAN
BURGUNDY	Now he is gone, my lord, you need not fear. 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! Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Carlo il Delfino leggendo una lettera, i Duchi di Borgogna e d’Alençon, il Bastardo d’Orléans, Renato Duca d’Angiò e oan la Pulzella
CHARLES	Queste nuove, signori miei, possono rincuorare i nostri spiriti abbattuti. Si dice che i valenti Parigini si ribellano e si volgono di nuovo ai bellicosi Francesi. ALENÇON Marciate allora su Parigi, regale Carlo di Francia, e non trattenete le vostre forze in trastulli.
JOAN	Pace sia fra loro se si volgono a noi; altrimenti, la rovina combatta coi loro palazzi!
(didascalia)	Entra un Esploratore
ESPLORATORE	Successo al nostro valoroso generale, e felicità ai suoi compagni.
CHARLES	Che novelle mandano le nostre vedette? Ti prego, parla.
ESPLORATORE	L’esercito inglese, che era diviso in due parti, è ora congiunto in una sola, e intende darvi battaglia immantinente.
CHARLES	Un po’ troppo improvviso, signori, è l’avviso; ma subito provvederemo per loro.
BORGOGNA	Confido che lo spettro di Talbot non sia là.
(didascalia)	JOAN
BORGOGNA	Ora ch’egli è ito, signore, non avete bisogno di temere. Di tutte le vili passioni, la paura è la più maledetta. Comanda la conquista, Carlo, essa sarà tua; lascia che Enrico freni e tutto il mondo si dolga.
CHARLES	Avanti dunque, signori miei; e la Francia sia fortunata! Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Excursions. Enter Joan la Pucelle
JOAN	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.
(didascalia)	Thunder
JOAN	You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Under the lordly monarch of the north, Appear, and aid me in this enterprise.
(didascalia)	Enter Fiends
JOAN	This speed and quick appearance argues proof Of your accustomed diligence to me. Now, ye familiar spirits that are culled 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 overlong! Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, I’ll lop a member off and give it you In earnest of a 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. Exit

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Sortite. Entra Giovanna la Pulzella
JOAN	Il Reggente vince, e i Francesi fuggono. Ora aiutatemi, voi incantesimi e amuleti, e voi spiriti eletti che m’ammonite e mi date segni degli eventi futuri.
(didascalia)	Tuono
JOAN	Voi rapidi soccorritori, che siete vicari sotto il signorile monarca del nord, apparite, e aiutatemi in questa impresa.
(didascalia)	Entrano Demoni
JOAN	Questa prontezza e rapida apparizione dà prova della vostra consueta diligenza verso me. Ora, voi spiriti familiari che siete scelti fra le potenti regioni sotto terra, aiutatemi questa volta, ché la Francia vinca il campo. Essi camminano e non parlano Oh, non mi tenete troppo a lungo col silenzio! Là dove solevo nutrirvi col mio sangue, mi taglierò un membro e vi lo darò in pegno d’un ulteriore beneficio, purché vi degniate d’aiutarmi ora. Essi chinano il capo Nessuna speranza d’avere soccorso? Il mio corpo pagherà ricompensa se voi concederete la mia richiesta. Essi scuotono il capo Non possono il mio corpo né il sacrificio del sangue indurvi al vostro consueto sostegno? Prendete allora la mia anima—il mio corpo, l’anima e tutto— prima che l’Inghilterra dia scacco ai Francesi. Essi si allontanano Vedete, essi m’abbandonano. Ora il tempo è venuto in cui la Francia deve abbassare il suo cimiero dall’alto pennacchio e lasciar cadere il capo nel grembo dell’Inghilterra. I miei antichi incantesimi son troppo debili, e l’inferno troppo forte perch’io mi misuri con lui. Ora, Francia, la tua gloria piega nella polvere. Esce

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Excursions. The Dukes of Burgundy and York fight hand to hand. The French fly. Joan la Pucelle is taken
RICHARD DUKE OF 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!
(didascalia)	To his soldiers See how the ugly witch doth bend her
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	brows, 5 As if with Circe she would change my shape.
JOAN	Changed to a worser shape thou canst not be.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	O, Charles the Dauphin is a proper man. No shape but his can please your dainty eye.
JOAN	A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee, And may ye both be suddenly surprised By bloody hands in sleeping on your beds!
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Fell banning hag, enchantress, hold thy tongue.
JOAN	I prithee give me leave to curse awhile.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Curse, miscreant, when thou comest to the stake.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Sortite. I Duchi di Borgogna e di York combattono corpo a corpo. I Francesi fuggono. Giovanna la Pulzella è presa
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Damigella di Francia, credo di tenervi ben stretta. Scatenate ora i vostri spiriti con formule d’incanto, e provate se possono guadagnarvi la libertà. Bella preda, degna della grazia del diavolo!
(didascalia)	Ai suoi soldati Vedete come la brutta strega aggrotta le
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	ciglia, 5 come se con Circe volesse mutare la mia forma.
JOAN	Mutato in forma peggiore tu non puoi essere.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Oh, Carlo il Delfino è un bell’uomo. Nessuna forma se non la sua può piacere al vostro occhio delicato.
JOAN	Una sventura pestilenziale cada su Carlo e su te, e possiate entrambi essere d’improvviso sorpresi da mani sanguinose mentre dormite nei vostri letti!
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Fiera megera che impreca, incantatrice, tieni la lingua.
JOAN	Ti prego, dammi licenza di maledire un poco.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Maledici, miscredente, quando verrai al rogo.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Alarum. Enter the Earl of Suffolk with Margaret in his hand
SUFFOLK	Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner. He gazes on her O fairest beauty, do not fear nor fly, For I will touch thee but with reverent hands, And lay them gently on thy tender side. I kiss these fingers for eternal peace. 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 called. Be not offended, nature’s miracle, Thou art allotted to be ta’en by me. So doth the swan his downy cygnets save, Keeping them prisoner underneath his wings. Yet if this servile usage once offend, Go, and be free again, as Suffolk’s friend. She is going O stay! (Aside) 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 stream, 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 to hear? 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	(aside) 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	(aside) She’s beautiful, and therefore to be wooed; She is a woman, therefore to be won.
MARGARET	Wilt thou accept of ransom, yea or no?
SUFFOLK	(aside) Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife; Then how can Margaret be thy paramour?
MARGARET	(aside) I were best to leave him, for he will not hear.
SUFFOLK	(aside) There all is marred; there lies a cooling card.
MARGARET	(aside) He talks at random; sure the man is mad.
SUFFOLK	(aside) And yet a dispensation may be had.
MARGARET	And yet I would that you would answer me.
SUFFOLK	(aside) I’ll win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why, for my king—tush, that’s a wooden thing.
MARGARET	(aside) He talks of wood. It is some carpenter.
SUFFOLK	(aside) 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	(aside) It shall be so, disdain they ne’er so much. Henry is youthful, and will quickly yield. (To Margaret) Madam, I have a secret to reveal.
MARGARET	(aside) What though I be enthralled, he seems a knight And will not any way dishonour me.
SUFFOLK	Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say.
MARGARET	(aside) Perhaps I shall be rescued by the French, And then I need not crave his courtesy.
SUFFOLK	Sweet madam, give me hearing in a cause.
MARGARET	(aside) 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—
MARGARET	What?
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 (Aside) 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,
(didascalia)	Enter captains, colours, and trumpeters
SUFFOLK	And, madam, at your father’s castle walls We’ll crave a parley to confer with him.
(didascalia)	Sound a parley. Enter René Duke of Anjou on the walls
SUFFOLK	See, Rene, see thy daughter prisoner. RENÉ To whom ?
SUFFOLK	To me. RENÉ 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. Assent, and for thy honour give consent Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king, Whom I with pain have wooed and won thereto; And this her easy-held imprisonment Hath gained thy daughter princely liberty. RENÉ Speaks Suffolk as he thinks?
SUFFOLK	Fair Margaret knows That Suffolk doth not flatter, face or feign. RENÉ Upon thy princely warrant I descend To give thee answer of thy just demand.
(didascalia)	And here I will expect thy coming. Exit Rene above
(didascalia)	Trumpets sound. Enter René
RENE	Welcome, brave Earl, into our territories. Command in Anjou what your honour pleases.
SUFFOLK	Thanks, René, happy for so sweet a child, Fit to be made companion with a king. What answer makes your grace unto my suit? RENÉ 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 countries 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. RENÉ And I again in Henry’s royal name, As deputy unto that gracious king, Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith.
SUFFOLK	René of France, I give thee kingly thanks, Because this is in traffic of a king. (Aside) And yet methinks I could be well content To be mine own attorney in this case. (To René) I’ll over then to England with this news, And make this marriage to be solemnized. So farewell, René; set this diamond safe In golden palaces, as it becomes. RENÉ I do embrace thee as I would embrace The Christian prince King Henry, were he here.
MARGARET	(to Suffolk) Farewell, my lord. Good wishes, praise, and prayers Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret. She is going
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.
(didascalia)	She is going
SUFFOLK	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. He kisses her
MARGARET	That for thyself; I will not so presume To send such peevish tokens to a king.
(didascalia)	Exeunt René and Margaret
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK aside
MARGARET	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, Mad natural graces that extinguish art. Repeat their semblance often on the seas, That when thou com’st to kneel at Henry’s feet Thou mayst bereave him of his wits with wonder.
(didascalia)	Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Allarme. Entra il Conte di Suffolk tenendo per mano Margherita
SUFFOLK	Sii quel che vuoi, tu sei mia prigioniera. La contempla O bellissima bellezza, non temere né fuggire, ché io non ti toccherò se non con mani riverenti, e le poserò gentilmente sul tuo tenero fianco. Bacio queste dita per eterna pace. Chi sei tu? Dillo, ch’io possa onorarti.
MARGHERITA	Margherita è il mio nome, e figlia d’un re, il Re di Napoli, chiunque tu sia.
SUFFOLK	Un conte io sono, e Suffolk son chiamato. Non t’offendere, miracolo della natura, tu sei destinata a esser presa da me. Così il cigno salva i suoi piccoli piumosi, tenendoli prigionieri sotto le sue ali. Pure, se questo servile trattamento t’offende, va’, e sii libera di nuovo, come amica di Suffolk. Ella sta per andare Oh, fermati! (A parte) Non ho la forza di lasciarla passare. La mia mano vorrebbe liberarla, ma il mio cuore dice no. Come gioca il sole sul vetroso ruscello, scintillando un altro raggio contraffatto, così appare questa splendida bellezza ai miei occhi. Volentieri la corteggerei, e pure non oso parlare. Chiederò penna e inchiostro, e scriverò il mio pensiero. Vergogna, de la Pole, non rendere te stesso inetto! Non hai una lingua? Non è ella qui per udire? Ti lascerai sgomentare alla vista d’una donna? Sì, la principesca maestà della bellezza è tale che confonde la lingua e rende i sensi ruvidi.
MARGHERITA	Dite, Conte di Suffolk—se tale è il vostro nome— quale riscatto devo pagare prima di passare? Ché m’accorgo d’essere vostra prigioniera.
SUFFOLK	(a parte) Come puoi tu sapere ch’ella negherà la tua richiesta prima che tu faccia una prova del suo amore?
MARGHERITA	Perché non parlate? Quale riscatto devo pagare?
SUFFOLK	(a parte) Ella è bella, e perciò da corteggiare; è una donna, perciò da conquistare.
MARGHERITA	Volete accettare un riscatto, sì o no?
SUFFOLK	(a parte) Uomo sciocco, ricordati che hai una moglie; come dunque può Margherita essere la tua amante?
MARGHERITA	(a parte) Meglio sarebbe ch’io lo lasciassi, ché non vuol udire.
SUFFOLK	(a parte) Là tutto è guastato; là sta una carta che raffredda.
MARGHERITA	(a parte) Egli parla a caso; certo l’uomo è pazzo.
SUFFOLK	(a parte) E pure una dispensa si può ottenere.
MARGHERITA	E pure vorrei che voi mi rispondeste.
SUFFOLK	(a parte) Conquisterò questa Lady Margherita. Per chi? Ma per il mio re—bah, quella è cosa di legno.
MARGHERITA	(a parte) Parla di legno. Sarà qualche falegname.
SUFFOLK	(a parte) Pure così il mio desiderio potrà esser soddisfatto, e la pace stabilita fra questi regni. Ma resta uno scrupolo anche in questo, ché sebbene suo padre sia il Re di Napoli, Duca d’Angiò e del Maine, egli è tuttavia povero, e la nostra nobiltà disprezzerà il partito.
MARGHERITA	Udite, capitano? Non avete agio?
SUFFOLK	(a parte) Così sarà, per quanto essi disdegnino. Enrico è giovane, e cederà presto. (A Margherita) Signora, ho un segreto da rivelare.
MARGHERITA	(a parte) Che importa s’io son fatta schiava, egli sembra un cavaliere e non mi disonorerà in alcun modo.
SUFFOLK	Signora, degnatevi d’ascoltare quel ch’io dico.
MARGHERITA	(a parte) Forse sarò liberata dai Francesi, e allora non avrò bisogno d’implorare la sua cortesia.
SUFFOLK	Dolce signora, datemi udienza in una causa.
MARGHERITA	(a parte) Bah, donne son già state fatte prigioniere prima d’ora.
SUFFOLK	Signora, perché parlate così?
MARGHERITA	Vi chiedo grazia, è solo quid per quo.
SUFFOLK	Dite, gentile Principessa, non ritenete voi la vostra prigionia felice, se vi si fa regina?
MARGHERITA	Essere regina in prigionia è cosa più vile che esser schiava in bassa servitù, ché i principi devon esser liberi.
SUFFOLK	E così sarete voi, se il regale re della felice Inghilterra sia libero.
MARGHERITA	Ma che riguarda me la sua libertà?
SUFFOLK	Mi impegno a farti regina d’Enrico, a porre uno scettro d’oro nella tua mano, e a posare una preziosa corona sul tuo capo, se tu vorrai degnarti d’essere la mia—
MARGHERITA	Che cosa?
SUFFOLK	Il suo amore.
MARGHERITA	Io son indegna d’esser moglie d’Enrico.
SUFFOLK	No, gentile signora, io sono indegno di corteggiare una sì bella dama perché sia sua moglie (A parte) e di non avere io stesso parte alcuna nella scelta.— Che dite, signora; siete voi così contenta?
MARGHERITA	E se a mio padre piace, io son contenta.
SUFFOLK	Chiamate allora fuori i nostri capitani e le nostre insegne,
(didascalia)	Entrano capitani, insegne e trombettieri
SUFFOLK	e, signora, alle mura del castello di vostro padre chiederemo un abboccamento per conferire con lui.
(didascalia)	Si suona un abboccamento. Entra Renato Duca d’Angiò sulle mura
SUFFOLK	Vedi, Renato, vedi tua figlia prigioniera. RENÉ Di chi?
SUFFOLK	Mia. RENÉ Suffolk, che rimedio v’è? Io son un soldato, e inetto a piangere o a gridare contro la volubilità della fortuna.
SUFFOLK	Sì, v’è rimedio a sufficienza, signore. Acconsentite, e per il vostro onore date il consenso che vostra figlia sia sposata al mio re, al quale con pena l’ho corteggiata e ottenuta; e questa sua leggera prigionia ha guadagnato a vostra figlia principesca libertà. RENÉ Parla Suffolk come pensa?
SUFFOLK	La bella Margherita sa che Suffolk non lusinga, non simula né finge. RENÉ Sulla tua principesca garanzia io scendo a darti risposta alla tua giusta domanda.
(didascalia)	E qui attenderò il tuo venire. Esce Renato dall’alto
(didascalia)	Le trombe suonano. Entra Renato
RENE	Benvenuto, valoroso Conte, nei nostri territori. Comandate in Angiò quel che piace all’onore vostro.
SUFFOLK	Grazie, Renato, felice per una sì dolce figlia, degna d’esser fatta compagna d’un re. Che risposta dà vostra grazia alla mia richiesta? RENÉ Poiché tu ti degni di corteggiare il suo poco merito perché sia la principesca sposa di tal signore, a condizione ch’io possa tranquillamente godere del mio, dei paesi del Maine e d’Angiò, liberi da oppressione o dal colpo della guerra, mia figlia sarà d’Enrico, se a lui piace.
SUFFOLK	Quello è il suo riscatto. Io la consegno, e quelle due contee m’impegno che vostra grazia bene e tranquillamente godrà. RENÉ E io di nuovo nel regale nome d’Enrico, come vicario di quel grazioso re, ti do la sua mano in segno di fede impegnata.
SUFFOLK	Renato di Francia, ti rendo regali ringraziamenti, perché questo è negozio d’un re. (A parte) E pure mi pare ch’io sarei bene contento d’esser procuratore di me stesso in questo caso. (A Renato) Passerò allora in Inghilterra con queste nuove, e farò solennizzare questo matrimonio. Così addio, Renato; poni questo diamante al sicuro in palazzi d’oro, come si conviene. RENÉ Io t’abbraccio come abbraccerei il cristiano principe re Enrico, s’egli fosse qui.
MARGHERITA	(a Suffolk) Addio, signore. Buoni auguri, lodi e preghiere avrà sempre Suffolk da Margherita. Ella sta per andare
SUFFOLK	Addio, dolce signora; ma udite, Margherita— nessuna principesca raccomandazione al mio re?
MARGHERITA	Tali raccomandazioni come si convengono a una fanciulla, a una vergine e a sua serva, ditegli.
SUFFOLK	Parole dolcemente poste, e modestamente indirizzate.
(didascalia)	Ella sta per andare
SUFFOLK	Ma signora, devo disturbarvi di nuovo— nessun pegno d’amore a sua maestà?
MARGHERITA	Sì, mio buon signore: un cuore puro e immacolato, mai finora contaminato d’amore, io mando al Re.
SUFFOLK	E anche questo. La bacia
MARGHERITA	Quello per voi stesso; io non presumerò tanto da mandare tali stizzosi pegni a un re.
(didascalia)	Escono Renato e Margherita
(didascalia)	SUFFOLK a parte
MARGHERITA	Oh, fossi tu per me stesso!—ma Suffolk, fermati. Non ti è lecito errare in quel labirinto. Là Minotauri e brutti tradimenti stanno in agguato. Solletica Enrico colla sua mirabile lode. Ripensa alle sue virtù che sormontano, folli grazie naturali che spengono l’arte. Ripeti la loro immagine spesso sui mari, sì che quando verrai a inginocchiarti ai piedi d’Enrico tu possa privarlo del senno colla meraviglia.
(didascalia)	Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter Richard Duke of York, the Earl of Warwick, and a Shepherd
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Bring forth that sorceress condemned to burn.
(didascalia)	Enter Joan la Pucelle guarded
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	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’t 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 bach’lorship.
WARWICK	(to Joan) Graceless, wilt thou deny thy parentage?
RICHARD DUKE OF 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	Peasant, avaunt! (To the English) You have suborned this man Of purpose to obscure my noble birth.
SHEPHERD	(to the English) ‘Tis true I gave a noble to the priest The morn that I was wedded to her mother. (To Joan) 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 sucked’st her breast Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake. Or else, when thou didst keep my lambs afield, I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee. Dost thou deny thy father, cursed drab? (To the English) O burn her, burn her! Hanging is too good. Exit
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(to guards) Take her away, for she hath lived too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities.
JOAN	First let me tell you whom you have condemned: Not one 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, Stained 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Ay, ay, (to guards) away with her to execution.
WARWICK	(to guards) And hark ye, sirs: because she is a maid, Spare for no faggots. Let there be enough. Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake, That so her torture may be shortened.
JOAN	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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Now heaven forfend—the holy maid with child?
WARWICK	(to Joan) The greatest miracle that e’er ye wrought. Is all your strict preciseness come to this?
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	She and the Dauphin have been ingling. I did imagine what would be her refuge.
WARWICK	Well, go to, we will have no bastards live, Especially since Charles must father it.
JOAN	You are deceived. My child is none of his. It was Alençon that enjoyed my love.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Alençon, that notorious Machiavel? It dies an if it had a thousand lives.
JOAN	O give me leave, I have deluded you. ‘Twas neither Charles nor yet the Duke I named, But René King of Naples that prevailed.
WARWICK	A married man?—That’s most intolerable.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	And yet forsooth she is a virgin pure! (To joan) Strumpet, thy words condemn thy brat and thee. Use no entreaty, for it is in vain.
JOAN	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.
(didascalia)	Enter the Bishop of Winchester, now Cardinal
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	(to Joan) Break thou in pieces, and consume to ashes, Thou foul accursed minister of hell.
(didascalia)	Exit Joan, guarded
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.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Is all our travail turned 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.
(didascalia)	Enter Charles the Dauphin, the Duke of Alençon, the Bastard of Orléans, and René Duke of Anjou
CHARLES	Since, lords of England, it is thus agreed That peaceful truce shall be proclaimed in France, We come to be informed by yourselves What the conditions of that league must be.
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	Speak, Winchester; for boiling choler chokes The hollow passage of my poisoned voice By sight of these our baleful enemies.
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 and submit thyself, Thou shalt be placed as viceroy under him, And still enjoy thy regal dignity. ALENÇON 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 possessed With more than half the Gallian territories, And therein reverenced for their lawful king. Shall I, for lucre of the rest unvanquished, Detract so much from that prerogative As to be called 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.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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. RENÉ (aside to Charles) 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. ALENÇON (aside to Charles) 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 sayst thou, Charles? Shall our condition stand?
CHARLES	It shall, Only reserved you claim no interest In any of our towns of garrison.
RICHARD DUKE OF 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.
(didascalia)	They swear
RICHARD DUKE OF YORK	So, now dismiss your army when ye please. Hang up your ensigns, let your drums be still; For here we entertain a solemn peace. Exeunt

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entrano Riccardo Duca di York, il Conte di Warwick e un Pastore
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Portate avanti quella maliarda condannata al fuoco.
(didascalia)	Entra Giovanna la Pulzella sotto scorta
PASTORE	Ah, Giovanna, questo uccide addirittura il cuore di tuo padre. Ho cercato per ogni paese lontano e vicino, e ora che m’accade di ritrovarti devo io contemplare la tua crudele morte anzi tempo? Ah Giovanna, dolce figlia Giovanna, io morrò con te.
JOAN	Decrepito taccagno, vile e ignobile miserabile, io discendo da sangue più gentile. Tu non sei mio padre né amico mio.
PASTORE	Via, via!—Signori miei, con vostra licenza, non è così. Io la generai, tutta la parrocchia lo sa. Sua madre vive ancora, può testimoniare ch’ella fu il primo frutto del mio celibato.
WARWICK	(a Giovanna) Sfacciata, vuoi tu negare la tua parentela?
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Questo dimostra quale sia stata la sua sorta di vita— malvagia e vile; e così la sua morte conclude.
PASTORE	Vergogna, Giovanna, che tu sia così ostacolo. Dio sa che tu sei un lembo della mia carne, e per amor tuo ho versato molte lacrime. Non mi negare, ti prego, gentile Giovanna.
JOAN	Contadino, indietro! (Agl’Inglesi) Voi avete subornato quest’uomo a bella posta per oscurare la mia nobile nascita.
PASTORE	(agl’Inglesi) È vero, io diedi un nobile al prete la mattina in cui fui sposato a sua madre. (A Giovanna) Inginocchiati, e prendi la mia benedizione, mia buona figliola. Non vuoi tu piegarti? Ora sia maledetto il tempo della tua nascita. Vorrei che il latte che tua madre ti diede quando suggevi il suo seno fosse stato un po’ di veleno per topi, per amor tuo. O altrimenti, quando custodivi i miei agnelli nei campi, vorrei che qualche lupo rapace t’avesse mangiata. Neghi tu tuo padre, maledetta sgualdrina? (Agl’Inglesi) Oh, bruciatela, bruciatela! L’impiccagione è troppo buona. Esce
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	(alle guardie) Portatela via, ché ha vissuto troppo, a riempire il mondo di qualità viziose.
JOAN	Prima lasciate ch’io vi dica chi avete condannato: non una generata da un bifolco pastore, ma discesa dalla progenie dei re; virtuosa e santa, scelta dall’alto per ispirazione di celeste grazia a compiere prodigiosi miracoli sulla terra. Io mai ebbi da fare con spiriti malvagi; ma voi che siete contaminati dalle vostre libidini, macchiati del sangue incolpevole degl’innocenti, corrotti e infetti di mille vizi— poiché vi manca la grazia che altri hanno, giudicate subito cosa impossibile compiere prodigi se non coll’aiuto dei diavoli. No, la fraintesa Giovanna d’Arco è stata vergine dalla sua tenera infanzia, casta e immacolata perfino nel pensiero, il cui verginale sangue così rigorosamente versato griderà vendetta alle porte del cielo.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Sì, sì, (alle guardie) portatela via al supplizio.
WARWICK	(alle guardie) E udite, signori: poiché ella è vergine, non risparmiate fascine. Ve ne sian d’avanzo. Ponete barili di pece intorno al palo fatale, sì che la sua tortura sia abbreviata.
JOAN	Nulla piegherà i vostri cuori inflessibili? Allora, Giovanna, rivela la tua condizione, che per legge ti garantisce un privilegio: io porto un figlio in seno, voi sanguinari omicidi. Non uccidete dunque il frutto dentro il mio grembo, sebbene mi trasciniate a una morte violenta.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Ora il cielo non voglia—la santa fanciulla con figlio?
WARWICK	(a Giovanna) Il più grande miracolo che voi mai compiste. È tutta la vostra severa scrupolosità giunta a questo?
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Ella e il Delfino han civettato insieme. Bene immaginavo quale sarebbe stato il suo rifugio.
WARWICK	Bene, andiamo, non lasceremo vivere bastardi, specialmente poiché Carlo ne dev’essere il padre.
JOAN	Voi siete ingannati. Il mio figlio non è suo. Fu Alençon che godé del mio amore.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Alençon, quel notorio Machiavelli? Esso muore quand’anche avesse mille vite.
JOAN	Oh, datemi licenza, io v’ho illusi. Non fu né Carlo né il Duca ch’io nominai, ma Renato Re di Napoli che prevalse.
WARWICK	Un uomo sposato?—Questo è cosa intollerabilissima.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Ma guarda che ragazza; credo ch’ella non sappia bene— ve n’erano tanti—chi possa accusare.
WARWICK	È segno ch’ella è stata liberale e generosa.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	E pure in verità ella è una vergine pura! (A Giovanna) Sgualdrina, le tue parole condannano il tuo marmocchio e te. Non ricorrere a supplica alcuna, ché è vano.
JOAN	Conducetemi allora via di qui; a voi lascio la mia maledizione. Che mai il sole glorioso rifletta i suoi raggi sul paese dove voi avete dimora, ma le tenebre e la cupa ombra della morte vi circondino finché la sventura e la disperazione vi spingano a rompervi il collo o a impiccarvi.
(didascalia)	Entra il Vescovo di Winchester, ora Cardinale
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	(a Giovanna) Spezzati in pezzi, e consumati in ceneri, tu turpe e maledetta ministra dell’inferno.
(didascalia)	Esce Giovanna, sotto scorta
WINCHESTER	Lord Reggente, io saluto vostra eccellenza con lettere d’incarico dal Re. Ché sappiate, signori miei, gli stati della Cristianità, mossi da rimorso di queste oltraggiose risse, han caldamente implorato una pace generale fra la nostra nazione e gli ambiziosi Francesi, ed ecco qui vicino il Delfino e il suo seguito s’avvicina a conferire su qualche materia.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Tutta la nostra fatica è volta a questo effetto? Dopo la strage di tanti pari, di tanti capitani, gentiluomini e soldati che in questa contesa sono stati abbattuti e han venduto i loro corpi per il bene del loro paese, concluderemo alla fine una pace effeminata? Non abbiamo perduto la maggior parte di tutte le città per tradimento, falsità e perfidia, che i nostri grandi progenitori avevan conquistato? O Warwick, Warwick, io prevedo con dolore la totale perdita di tutto il regno di Francia!
WARWICK	Sii paziente, York. Se concludiamo una pace sarà con patti sì stretti e severi che poco vi guadagneranno i Francesi.
(didascalia)	Entrano Carlo il Delfino, il Duca d’Alençon, il Bastardo d’Orléans e Renato Duca d’Angiò
CHARLES	Poiché, signori d’Inghilterra, è così convenuto che pacifica tregua sia proclamata in Francia, veniamo a esser informati da voi stessi quali debban essere le condizioni di quell’accordo.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Parla, Winchester; ché bollente collera soffoca il cavo passaggio della mia voce avvelenata alla vista di questi nostri funesti nemici.
WINCHESTER	Carlo e voi altri, così è stabilito: che, in quanto re Enrico dà il consenso, per mera compassione e per clemenza, a sgravare il vostro paese dalla guerra angosciosa e a permettervi di respirare in fruttuosa pace, voi diverrete veri vassalli della sua corona. E, Carlo, a condizione che tu voglia giurare di pagargli tributo e di sottometterti, tu sarai posto come viceré sotto di lui, e godrai ancora della tua regale dignità. ALENÇON Deve egli dunque essere come l’ombra di se stesso?— ornare le sue tempie d’un diadema, e tuttavia in sostanza e in autorità conservare solo il privilegio d’un privato? Quest’offerta è assurda e senza ragione.
CHARLES	È già noto ch’io son padrone di più della metà dei territori gallici, e in essi riverito come loro legittimo re. Dovrò io, per brama del resto non conquistato, detrarre tanto da quella prerogativa da esser chiamato solo viceré del tutto? No, signore ambasciatore, piuttosto conserverò quel che ho, che, bramando di più, esser gettato fuori dalla possibilità di tutto.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Insolente Carlo, hai tu con mezzi segreti fatto intercedere per ottenere un accordo e, ora che la faccenda giunge al compromesso, ti tieni in disparte a far paragoni? O accetta il titolo che tu usurpi, come beneficio proveniente dal nostro re e non per alcuna pretesa di merito, o noi ti flagelleremo con guerre incessanti. RENÉ (a parte a Carlo) Mio signore, non fate bene nell’ostinazione a cavillare nel corso di questo patto. Se una volta esso sia trascurato, dieci contro uno che non troveremo simile occasione. ALENÇON (a parte a Carlo) A dire la verità, è vostra saggia politica salvare i vostri sudditi da tale massacro e da spietate stragi quali si vedono ogni giorno per il nostro procedere in ostilità; e perciò accettate questo compatto d’una tregua, sebbene voi lo rompiate quando vi torni comodo.
WARWICK	Che dici tu, Carlo? Reggerà la nostra condizione?
CHARLES	Reggerà, solo che si riservi che voi non pretendiate interesse in alcuna delle nostre città di guarnigione.
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Giura allora fedeltà a sua maestà, come tu sei cavaliere, di non disobbedire mai né d’esser ribelle alla corona d’Inghilterra, né tu né i tuoi nobili, alla corona d’Inghilterra.
(didascalia)	Essi giurano
RICCARDO DUCA DI YORK	Così, ora congedate il vostro esercito quando vi piaccia. Appendete le vostre insegne, tacciano i vostri tamburi; ché qui noi accogliamo una solenne pace. Escono

Speaker	Line
(didascalia)	Enter the Earl of Suffolk, in conference with King Henry, and the Dukes of Gloucester and Exeter
KING HENRY	(to Suffolk) Your wondrous rare description, noble Earl, Of beauteous Margaret hath astonished me. Her virtues gracèd with external gifts Do breed love’s settled passions in my heart, And like as rigour 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	And otherwise will Henry ne‘er presume. (To Gloucester) Therefore, my lord Protector, give consent That Marg’ret may be England’s royal queen.
GLOUCESTER	So should I give consent to flatter sin. You know, my lord, your highness is betrothed 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 vowed 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, my 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 René 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 to 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, That most of all these reasons bindeth us: In our opinions she should be preferred. 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 linked in love. Then yield, my lords, and here conclude with me: That Margaret shall be queen, and none but she.
KING HENRY	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 crowned 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. (To Gloucester) 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.
(didascalia)	Exit with Exeter
GLOUCESTER	Ay, grief, I fear me, both at first and last. Exit
SIIEFOLK	Thus Suffolk hath prevailed, 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. Exit
BY WILLIAM	SHAKESPEARE, WITH GEORGE PEELE
SHAKESPEARE’S	first, most sensation-packed tragedy appeared in print, anonymously, in 1594, and a performance record dating from January of that year appears to indicate that it was then a new play. But according to its title-page it had been acted by three companies, one of which was bankrupt by the summer of 1593; and the play’s style, too, suggests that it was written earlier. During the later part of the twentieth century, scholars increasingly came round to the view that George Peele had a hand in, especially, the first act of the play. Shakespeare seems to have added a scene after its earliest performances, for Act 3, Scene 2 was first printed in the 1623 Folio. The 1594 performance record may refer to the revised play, not the original, or to the play’s first London performance after plague had closed the theatres from June 1592. By convention, Elizabethan tragedies treated historical subjects, and Titus Andronicus is set in Rome during the fourth century AD; but its story (like that of Shakespeare’s other early tragedy, Romeo and Juliet) is fictitious. Whether Shakespeare invented it is an open question: the same tale is told in both a ballad and a chap-book which survive only in eighteenth-century versions but which could derive from pre-Shakespearian originals. Even if Shakespeare knew these works, they could have supplied only a skeletal narrative. His play’s spirit and style owe much to Ovid’s Metamorphoses, one of his favourite works of classical literature, which he actually brings on stage in Act 4, Scene I. Ovid’s tale of the rape of Philomela was certainly in Shakespeare’s mind as he wrote, and the play’s more horrific elements owe something to the Roman dramatist Seneca. In its time, Titus Andronicus was popular, perhaps because it combines sensational incident with high-flown rhetoric of a kind that was fashionable around 1590. It tells a story of double revenge. Tamora, Queen of the Goths, seeks revenge on her captor, Titus, for the ritual slaughter of her son Alarbus; she achieves it when her other sons, Chiron and Demetrius, rape and mutilate Titus’ daughter, Lavinia. Later, Titus himself seeks revenge on Tamora and her husband, Saturninus, after Tamora’s black lover, Aaron, has falsely led him to believe that he can save his sons’ lives by allowing his own hand to be chopped off. Though he is driven to madness, Titus, with his brother Marcus and his last surviving son, Lucius, achieves a spectacular sequence of vengeance in which he cuts Tamora’s sons’ throats, serves their flesh baked in a pie to their mother, kills Lavinia to save her from her shame, and stabs Tamora to death. Then, in rapid succession, Saturninus kills Titus and is himself killed by Lucius, who, as the new Emperor, is left with Marcus to bury the dead, to punish Aaron, and ‘To heal Rome’s harms and wipe away her woe’. In Titus Andronicus, as in his early history plays, Shakespeare is at his most successful in the expression of grief and the portrayal of vigorously energetic evil. The play’s piling of horror upon horror can seem ludicrous, and the reader may be surprised by the apparent disjunction between terrifying events and the measured verse in which characters react; but a few remarkable modern productions have revealed that the play may still arouse pity as well as terror in its audiences.
THE PERSONS OF THE	PLAY SATURNINUS, eldest son of the late Emperor of Rome; later Emperor BASSIANUS, his brother
TITUS	ANDRONICUS, a Roman nobleman, general against the Goths LAVINIA, daughter of Titus
YOUNG	LUCIUS, a boy, son of Lucius
MARCUS	ANDRONICUS, a tribune of the people, Titus’ brother PUBLIUS, his son A CAPTAIN
AEMILIUS	TAMORA, Queen of the Goths, later wife of Saturninus AARON, a Moor, her lover A NURSE A CLOWN Senators, tribunes, Romans, Goths, soldiers, and attendants

Chi parla	Battuta
(didascalia)	Entra il Conte di Suffolk, in colloquio con re Enrico, e i Duchi di Gloucester e di Exeter
RE ENRICO	(a Suffolk) La vostra mirabile e rara descrizione, nobile Conte, della bella Margherita m’ha stupito. Le sue virtù adorne di doti esteriori generano nel mio cuore le radicate passioni dell’amore, e come il rigore di tempestose raffiche spinge il più grande scafo contro la marea, così io son trascinato dal soffio della sua fama o a patire naufragio o ad arrivare là dove io possa aver godimento del suo amore.
SUFFOLK	Bah, mio buon signore, questo superficiale racconto non è che una prefazione alla sua degna lode. Le principali perfezioni di quell’amabile dama, s’io avessi arte sufficiente a esprimerle, farebbero un volume di righe seducenti capaci di rapire qualunque ottusa immaginazione; e, ciò ch’è di più, ella non è sì divina, sì piena e ricolma d’ogni scelta delizia, che con altrettanto umile bassezza d’animo non sia contenta d’esser al vostro comando— comando, intendo, di virtuosi e casti intenti, d’amare e d’onorare Enrico come suo signore.
RE ENRICO	E altrimenti Enrico mai presumerà. (A Gloucester) Perciò, mio signore Protettore, date il consenso che Margherita sia la regale regina d’Inghilterra.
GLOUCESTER	Così darei consenso a favorire il peccato. Voi sapete, signore, che vostra altezza è promessa a un’altra dama di riguardo. Come potremo allora dispensarci da quel contratto e non deturpare il vostro onore col rimprovero?
SUFFOLK	Come fa un sovrano con giuramenti illegittimi, o come uno che, avendo in un torneo giurato di provare la sua forza, abbandona pure il campo a causa dell’impari condizione del suo avversario. La figlia d’un povero conte è condizione impari, e perciò può esser rotta senza offesa.
GLOUCESTER	Ma che, di grazia, è Margherita più di quello? Suo padre non è meglio d’un conte, sebbene in gloriosi titoli egli eccella.
SUFFOLK	Sì, signore; suo padre è un re, il Re di Napoli e di Gerusalemme, e di tale grande autorità in Francia che la sua alleanza confermerà la nostra pace e terrà i Francesi in fedeltà.
GLOUCESTER	E così può fare il Conte d’Armagnac, perché è stretto parente di Carlo.
EXETER	Inoltre, la sua ricchezza garantisce una dote liberale, là dove Renato più presto riceverà che darà.
SUFFOLK	Una dote, signori miei? Non svergognate così il vostro Re quasi ch’egli fosse sì abietto, vile e povero da scegliere per ricchezza e non per perfetto amore. Enrico è capace d’arricchire la sua regina, e non di cercare una regina che lo faccia ricco. Così contrattano le loro mogli i contadini senza valore, come uomini di mercato i buoi, le pecore o i cavalli. Il matrimonio è materia di maggior pregio che d’esser trattata per procura. Non colei che noi vogliamo, ma colei che sua grazia ama deve esser compagna del suo letto nuziale. E perciò, signori, poiché egli ama lei sopra tutte, quella è fra tutte queste ragioni quella che più ci lega: a nostro giudizio ella dovrebbe esser preferita. Ché che cos’è un matrimonio forzato se non un inferno, un’età di discordia e di continua contesa, mentre il contrario porta beatitudine, ed è modello di celeste pace. Chi dovremmo unire a Enrico, essendo un re, se non Margherita, che è figlia d’un re? La sua incomparabile bellezza congiunta alla sua nascita la dimostra adatta a nessuno se non a un re. Il suo valoroso coraggio e il suo spirito indomito, più di quanto comunemente si veda nelle donne, corrisponderanno alla nostra speranza d’aver prole da un re. Ché Enrico, figlio d’un conquistatore, è probabile che generi altri conquistatori se con una dama d’animo sì alto com’è la bella Margherita egli sia congiunto in amore. Cedete dunque, signori miei, e qui concludete con me: che Margherita sia regina, e nessun’altra che lei.
RE ENRICO	Sia per la forza del vostro racconto, mio nobile signore di Suffolk, o perché la mia tenera gioventù non fu ancora mai toccata da alcuna passione d’amore infiammante, non lo so dire; ma di questo son certo: sento tal aspra dissensione nel mio petto, tali fieri allarmi di speranza e di paura, che son malato per il travaglio dei miei pensieri. Imbarcatevi dunque; correte, signore, in Francia; acconsentite a qualunque patto, e procurate che Lady Margherita si degni di venire ad attraversare i mari verso l’Inghilterra e d’esser incoronata fedele e unta regina di re Enrico. Per le vostre spese e per un sufficiente onere, raccogliete fra il popolo una decima. Andate, dico; ché finché non tornerete io resto perplesso con mille affanni. (A Gloucester) E voi, buon zio, bandite ogni offesa. Se mi giudicate secondo quel che voi eravate, non quel che siete, so che scuserà questa improvvisa esecuzione della mia volontà. E così conducetemi là dove, lontano da compagnia, io possa volgere e rimuginare il mio affanno.
(didascalia)	Esce con Exeter
GLOUCESTER	Sì, affanno, io lo temo, al principio e alla fine. Esce
SIIEFOLK	Così Suffolk ha prevalso, e così egli va come andò un tempo il giovane Paride in Grecia, colla speranza di trovare simile esito in amore, ma di prosperare meglio di quanto fece il Troiano. Margherita sarà ora regina e governerà il Re; ma io governerò lei, il Re e il regno. Esce