HENRY VI PART ONE

by Shakespeare · Cluster: Wars of the Roses

Abstract

Early history play dramatizing England’s losses in France after Henry V’s death, the Joan la Pucelle episodes, and the seeds of the Wars of the Roses (the Temple Garden plucking of red and white roses). Central themes: civil discord, faction, kingship and the cost of war.

Capitoli / Chapters

Connections

Motifs: White and Red, Swords and Weapons, Crown Themes & Concepts: War and its Cost, Kingship and Legitimacy, Order vs Chaos, Class Conflict, Ambition, Economics Forms & Genres: History Play, Blank Verse Historical References: Medieval England, Wars of the Roses Settings: Battlefield Characters: Henry VI, Lord Talbot, Joan la Pucelle, Duke of Gloucester, Duke of York, Earl of Suffolk, Charles the Dauphin, Margaret of Anjou

Testo integrale / Full text

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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

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(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

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(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

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(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

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(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

Chi parla	Battuta
(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

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HENRY VI PART ONE

Capitoli / Chapters

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Testo integrale / Full text

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