Fiends appearing to La Pucelle .


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 .

England ne'er had a king until his time .
Virtue he had , deserving to command :
His brandish'd 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 mid-day sun fierce bent against their faces .
What should I say ? his deeds exceed all speech :
He ne'er lift up his hand but conquered .

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 contriv'd his end ?

He was a king bless'd of the King of kings .
Unto the French the dreadful judgment-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 .

The church ! where is it ? Had not churchmen pray'd 
His thread of life had not so soon decay'd :
None do you like but an effeminate prince ,
Whom like a school-boy you may over-awe .

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 .

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 .

Cease , cease these jars and rest your minds in peace !
Let's to the altar : heralds , wait on us :
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' moist 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 C sar , or bright 


My honourable lords , health to you all !
Sad tidings bring I to you out of France ,
Of loss , of slaughter , and discomfiture :
Guienne , Champaigne , Rheims , Orleans ,
Paris , Guysors , Poictiers , are all quite lost .

What sayst thou , man , before dead Henry's corse ?
Speak softly ; or the loss of those great towns 
Will make him burst his lead and rise from death .

Is Paris lost ? is Roan yielded up ?
If Henry were recall'd to life again 
These news would cause him once more yield the ghost .

How were they lost ? what treachery was us'd ?

No treachery ; but want of men and money .
Among the soldiers this is muttered ,
That here you maintain several factions ;
And , whilst a field should be dispatch'd and fought ,
You are disputing of your generals .
One would have lingering 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 obtain'd .
Awake , awake , English nobility !
Let not sloth dim your honours new-begot :
Cropp'd are the flower-de-luces in your arms ;
Of England's coat one half is cut away .

Were our tears wanting to this funeral 
These tidings would call forth their flowing tides .

Me they concern ; Regent I am of France .
Give me my steeled coat : I'll fight for France .
Away with these disgraceful wailing robes !
Wounds will I lend the French instead of eyes ,
To weep their intermissive miseries .


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 Orleans with him is join'd ;
Reignier , Duke of Anjou , doth take his part ;
The Duke of Alen on flieth to his side .

The Dauphin crowned king ! all fly to him !
O ! whither shall we fly from this reproach ?

We will not fly , but to our enemies' throats .
Bedford , if thou be slack , I'll fight it out .

Gloucester , why doubt'st thou of my forwardness ?
An army have I muster'd in my thoughts ,
Wherewith already France is overrun .


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 .

What ! wherein Talbot overcame ? is't so ?

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 Orleans ,
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 pluck'd 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 every where , enrag'd he flew :
The French exclaim'd the devil was in arms ;
All the whole army stood agaz'd on him .
His soldiers , spying his undaunted spirit ,
A Talbot ! A Talbot ! cried out amain ,
And rush'd into the bowels of the battle .
Here had the conquest fully been seal'd up ,
If Sir John Fastolfe had not play'd the coward .
He , being in the vaward ,plac'd behind ,
With purpose to relieve and follow them ,
Cowardly fled , not having struck one stroke .
Hence grew the general wrack and massacre ;
Enclosed 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 .

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 betray'd .

O no ! he lives ; but is took prisoner ,
And Lord Scales with him , and Lord Hungerford :
Most of the rest slaughter'd or took likewise .

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 .

So you had need ; for Orleans is besieg'd ;
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 .

Remember , lords , your oaths to Henry sworn ,
Either to quell the Dauphin utterly ,
Or bring him in obedience to your yoke .

I do remember it ; and here take my leave ,
To go about my preparation .


I'll to the Tower with all the haste I can ,
To view the artillery and munition ;
And then I will proclaim young Henry king .


To Eltham will I , where the young king is ,
Being ordain'd his special governor ;
And for his safety there I'll best devise .


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 .


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 Orleans ;
Otherwhiles the famish'd English , like pale ghosts ,
Faintly besiege us one hour in a month .

They want their porridge 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 .

Let's raise the siege : why live we idly here ?
Talbot is taken , whom we wont to fear :
Remaineth none but mad-brain'd Salisbury ,
And he may well in fretting spend his gall ;
Nor men nor money hath he to make war .

Sound , sound alarum ! we will rush on them .
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 fly .

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 .

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 .

Froissart , a countryman of ours , records ,
England all Olivers and Rowlands 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-bon'd rascals ! who would e'er suppose 
They had such courage and audacity ?

Let's leave this town ; for they are hare-brain'd 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 .

I think , by some odd gimmals 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 e'en let them alone .

Be it so .


Where's the prince Dauphin ? I have news for him .

Bastard of Orleans , thrice welcome to us .

Methinks your looks are sad , your cheer appall'd :
Hath the late overthrow wrought this offence ?
Be not dismay'd , 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 .

Go , call her in .

But first , to try her skill ,
Reignier , 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 .

Fair maid , is't thou wilt do these wondrous feats ?

Reignier , is't thou that thinkest to beguile me ?
Where is the Dauphin ? Come , come from behind ;
I know thee well , though never seen before .
Be not amaz'd , there's nothing hid from me :
In private will I talk with thee apart .
Stand back , you lords , and give us leave a while .

She takes upon her bravely at first dash .

Dauphin , I am by birth a shepherd's daughter ,
My wit untrain'd in any kind of art .
Heaven and our Lady gracious hath it pleas'd 
To shine on my contemptible estate :
Lo ! whilst I waited on my tender lambs ,
And to sun's parching heat display'd my cheeks ,
God's mother deigned to appear to me ,
And in a vision full of majesty 
Will'd me to leave my base vocation 
And free my country from calamity :
Her aid she promis'd and assur'd success ;
In complete glory she reveal'd herself ;
And , whereas I was black and swart before ,
With those clear rays which she infus'd on me ,
That beauty am I bless'd with which you 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 war-like mate .

Thou hast astonish'd me with thy high terms .
Only this proof I'll of thy valour make ,
In single combat thou shalt buckle with me ,
And if thou vanquishest , thy words are true ;
Otherwise I renounce all confidence .

I am prepar'd : here is my keen-edg'd sword ,
Deck'd with five flower-de-luces on each side ;
The which at Touraine , in Saint Katharine's churchyard ,
Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth .

Then come , o' God's name ; I fear no woman .

And , while I live , I'll ne'er fly from a man .


Stay , stay thy hands ! thou art an Amazon ,
And fightest with the sword of Deborah .

Christ's mother helps me , else I were too weak .

Whoe'er helps thee , 'tis thou that must help me :
Impatiently I burn with thy desire ;
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdu'd .
Excellent Pucelle , if thy name be so ,
Let me thy servant and not sovereign be ;
'Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus .

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 .

Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall .

My lord , methinks , is very long in talk .

Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock ;
Else ne'er could he so long protract his speech .

Shall we disturb him , since he keeps no mean ?

He may mean more than we poor men do know :
These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues .

My lord , where are you ? what devise you on ?
Shall we give over Orleans , or no ?

Why , no , I say , distrustful recreants !
Fight till the last gasp ; I will be your guard .

What she says , I'll confirm : we'll fight it out .

Assign'd am I to be the English scourge .
This night the siege assuredly I'll raise :
Expect Saint Martin's summer , halcyon 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 nought .
With Henry's death the English circle ends ;
Dispersed are the glories it included .
Now am I like that proud insulting ship 
Which C sar and his fortune bare at once .

Was Mahomet 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 ?

Leave off delays and let us raise the siege .

Woman , do what thou canst to save our honours ;
Drive them from Orleans and be immortalis'd .

Presently we'll try . Come , let's away about it :
No prophet will I trust if she prove false .


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 ?
Open the gates ! 'Tis Gloucester that calls .


Who's there that knocks so imperiously ?

It is the noble Duke of Gloucester .

Whoe'er he be , you may not be let in .

Villains , answer you so the Lord Protector ?

The Lord protect him ! so we answer him :
We do not otherwise than we are will'd .

Who willed you ? or whose will stands but mine ?
There's none protector of the realm but I .
Break up the gates , I'll be your warrantize :
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms ?

Lieutenant , is it you whose voice I hear ?
Open the gates ! here's Gloucester that would enter .

Have patience , noble Duke ; I may not open ;
The Cardinal of Winchester forbids :
From him I have express commandment 
That thou nor none of thine shall be let in .

Faint-hearted Woodvile , 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 .

Open the gates unto the Lord Protector ;
Or we'll burst them open , if that you come not quickly .


How now , ambitious Humphrey ! what means this ?

Peel'd priest , dost thou command me to be shut out ?

I do , thou most usurping proditor ,
And not protector , of the king or realm .

Stand back , thou manifest conspirator ,
Thou that contriv'dst to murder our dead lord ;
Thou that giv'st whores indulgences to sin :
I'll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal's hat ,
If thou proceed in this thy insolence .

Nay , stand thou back ; I will not budge a foot :
This be Damascus , be thou cursed Cam ,
To slay thy brother Abel , if thou wilt .

I will not slay thee , but I'll drive thee back :
Thy scarlet robes as a child's bearing-cloth 
I'll use to carry thee out of this place .

Do what thou dar'st ; I'll beard thee to thy face .

What ! am I dar'd and bearded to my face ?
Draw , men , for all this privileged place ;
Blue coats to tawny-coats . Priest , beware your beard ;

I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly .
Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal's hat ,
In spite of pope or dignities of church ,
Here by the cheeks I'll drag thee up and down .

Gloucester , thou'lt answer this before the pope .

Winchester goose ! I cry a rope ! a rope !
Now beat them hence ; why do you let them stay ?
Thee I'll chase hence , thou wolf in sheep's array .
Out , tawny coats ! out , scarlet hypocrite !

Fie , lords ! that you , being supreme magistrates ,
Thus contumeliously should break the peace !

Peace , mayor ! thou know'st little of my wrongs :
Here's Beaufort , that regards nor God nor King ,
Hath here distrain'd the Tower to his use .

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 .

I will not answer thee with words , but blows .


Nought rests for me , in this tumultuous strife 
But to make open proclamation .
Come , officer : as loud as e'er thou canst ;
Cry .

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 .

Cardinal , I'll be no breaker of the law ;
But we shall meet and break our minds at large .

Gloucester , we will meet ; to thy cost , be sure :
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day's work .

I'll call for clubs if you will not away .
This cardinal's more haughty than the devil .

Mayor , farewell : thou dost but what thou mayst .

Abominable Gloucester ! guard thy head ;
For I intend to have it ere long .


See the coast clear'd , and then we will depart .
Good God ! these nobles should such stomachs bear ;
I myself fight not once in forty year .


Sirrah , thou know'st how Orleans is besieg'd ,
And how the English have the suburbs won .

Father , I know ; and oft have shot at them ,
Howe'er unfortunate I miss'd my aim .

But now thou shalt not . Be thou rul'd by me :
Chief master-gunner am I of this town ;
Something I must do to procure me grace .
The prince's espials have informed me 
How the English , in the suburbs close entrench'd ,
Wont through a secret gate 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 plac'd ;
And fully even these three days have I watch'd 
If I could see them . Now , boy , 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 .


Father , I warrant you ; take you no care ;
I'll never trouble you if I may spy them .


Talbot , my life , my joy ! again return'd !
How wert thou handled being prisoner ?
Or by what means got'st thou to be releas'd ,
Discourse , I prithee , on this turret's top .

The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner 
Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles ;
For him I was exchang'd and ransomed .
But with a baser man at arms by far 
Once in contempt they would have barter'd me :
Which I disdaining scorn'd , and craved death 
Rather than I would be so vile-esteem'd .
In fine , redeem'd I was as I desir'd .
But , O ! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart :
Whom with my bare fists I would execute 
If I now had him brought into my power .

Yet tell'st thou not how thou wert entertain'd .

With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts .
In open market-place produc'd 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 digg'd 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 deem'd me not secure ;
So great fear of my name 'mongst them was spread 
That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel 
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant :
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had ,
That walk'd about me every minute-while ;
And if I did but stir out of my bed 
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart .


I grieve to hear what torments you endur'd ;
But we will be reveng'd sufficiently .
Now it is supper-time in Orleans :
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 Glansdale ,
Let me have your express opinions 
Where is best place to make our battery next .

I think at the North gate ; for there stand lords .

And I , here , at the bulwark of the bridge .

For aught I see , this city must be famish'd ,
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled .


O Lord ! have mercy on us , wretched sinners .

O Lord ! have mercy on me , woeful man .

What chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd 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 contriv'd this woeful tragedy !
In thirteen battles Salisbury o'ercame ;
Henry the Fifth he first train'd 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 !
Bear hence his body ; I will help to bury it .
Sir Thomas Gargrave , hast thou any life ?
Speak unto Talbot ; nay , look up to him .
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 .

What stir is this ? What tumult's in the heavens ?
Whence cometh this alarum and the noise ?


My lord , my lord ! the French have gather'd head :
The Dauphin , with one Joan la Pucelle join'd ,
A holy prophetess new risen up 
Is come with a great power to raise the siege .


Hear , hear how dying Salisbury doth groan !
It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd .
Frenchmen , I'll be a Salisbury to you :
Pucelle or puzzel , dolphin or dogfish ,
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 .


Where is my strength , my valour , and my force ?
Our English troops retire , I cannot stay them ;
A woman clad in armour chaseth them .


Here , here she comes . 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 .

Come , come ; 'tis only I that must disgrace thee .


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 .


Talbot , farewell ; thy hour is not yet come :
I must go victual Orleans forthwith .

O'ertake me if thou canst ; I scorn thy strength .
Go , go , cheer up thy hunger-starved men ;
Help Salisbury to make his testament :
This day is ours , as many more shall be .


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 call'd us for our fierceness English dogs ;
Now , like to whelps , we crying run away .

Hark , countrymen ! either renew the fight ,
Or tear the lions out of England's coat ;
Renounce your soil , 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-subdued slaves .

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 Orleans 
In spite of us or aught that we could do .
O ! would I were to die with Salisbury .
The shame hereof will make me hide my head .


Advance our waving colours on the walls ;
Rescu'd is Orleans from the English :
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word .

Divinest creature , Astr a's daughter ,
How shall I honour thee for this success ?
Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens ,
That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next .
France , triumph in thy glorious prophetess !
Recover'd is the town of Orleans :
More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state .

Why ring not out the bells 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 .

All France will be replete with mirth and joy ,
When they shall hear how we have play'd the men .

'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 pyramis to her I'll rear 
Than Rhodope's or Memphis ever was :
In memory of her when she is dead ,
Her ashes , in an urn more precious 
Than the rich-jewell'd 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 .

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 .

Sergeant , you shall .

Thus are poor servitors 
When others sleep upon their quiet beds 
Constrain'd to watch in darkness , rain , and cold .


Lord regent , and redoubted Burgundy ,
By whose approach the regions of Artois ,
Walloon , and Picardy , are friends to us ,
This happy night the Frenchmen are secure ,
Having all day carous'd and banqueted :
Embrace we then this opportunity ,
As fitting best to quittance their deceit 
Contriv'd by art and baleful sorcery .

Coward of France ! how much he wrongs his fame ,
Despairing of his own arm's fortitude ,
To join with witches and the help of hell !

Traitors have never other company .
But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure ?

A maid , they say .

A maid , and be so martial !

Pray God she prove not masculine ere long ;
If underneath the standard of the French 
She carry armour , as she hath begun .

Well , let them practise and converse with spirits ;
God is our fortress , in whose conquering name 
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks .

Ascend , brave Talbot ; we will follow thee .

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 .

Agreed . I'll to yond corner .

And I to this .

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 .


Arm , arm ! the enemy doth make assault !

How now , my lords ! what ! all unready so ?

Unready ! ay , and glad we 'scap'd so well .

'Twas time , I trow , to wake and leave our beds ,
Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors .

Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms ,
Ne'er heard I of a war-like enterprise 
More venturous or desperate than this .

I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell .

If not of hell , the heavens , sure , favour him .

Here cometh Charles : I marvel how he sped .

Tut ! holy Joan was his defensive guard .


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 ?

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 .

Duke of Alen on , this was your default ,
That , being captain of the watch to-night ,
Did look no better to that weighty charge .

Had all your quarters been so safely kept 
As that whereof I had the government ,
We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd .

Mine was secure .

And so was mine , my lord .

And for myself , most part of all this night ,
Within her quarter and mine own precinct 
I was employ'd in passing to and fro ,
About relieving of the sentinels :
Then how or which way should they first break in ?

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 , scatter'd and dispers'd ,
And lay new platforms to endamage them .

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 .


The day begins to break , and night is fled ,
Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth .
Here sound retreat , and cease our hot pursuit .


Bring forth the body of old Salisbury ,
And here advance it in the market-place ,
The middle centre of this cursed town .
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 to-night .
And that hereafter ages may behold 
What ruin happen'd in revenge of him ,
Within their chiefest temple I'll erect 
A tomb wherein his corse shall be interr'd :
Upon the which , that every one may read ,
Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans ,
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 .

'Tis thought , Lord Talbot , when the fight began ,
Rous'd 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 .

Myself as far as I could well discern 
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night 
Am sure I scar'd 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 .


All hail , my lords ! Which of this princely train 
Call ye the war-like Talbot , for his acts 
So much applauded through the realm of France ?

Here is the Talbot : who would speak with him ?

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 .

Is it even so ? Nay , then , I see our wars 
Will turn into a peaceful comic sport ,
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with .
You may not , my lord , despise her gentle suit .

Ne'er trust me then ; for when a world of men 
Could not prevail with all their oratory ,
Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rul'd :
And therefore tell her I return great thanks ,
And in submission will attend on her .
Will not your honours bear me company ?

No , truly ; it is more than manners will ;
And I have heard it said , unbidden guests 
Are often welcomest when they are gone .

Well then , alone ,since there's no remedy ,
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy .
Come hither , captain .

You perceive my mind .

I do , my lord , and mean accordingly .


Porter , remember what I gave in charge ;
And when you have done so , bring the keys to me .

Madam , I will .


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 .


Madam ,
According as your ladyship desir'd ,
By message crav'd , so is Lord Talbot come .

And he is welcome . What ! is this the man ?

Madam , it is .

Is this the scourge of France ?
Is this the Talbot , so much fear'd 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 silly dwarf :
It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp 
Should strike such terror to his enemies .

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 .

What means he now ? Go ask him whither he goes .

Stay , my Lord Talbot ; for my lady craves 
To know the cause of your abrupt departure .

Marry , for that she's in a wrong belief ,
I go to certify her Talbot's here .


If thou be he , then art thou prisoner .

Prisoner ! to whom ?

To me , blood-thirsty lord ;
And for that cause I train'd 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 .

Ha , ha , ha !

Laughest thou , wretch ? thy mirth shall turn to moan .

I laugh to see your ladyship so fond 
To think that you have aught but Talbot's shadow ,
Whereon to practise your severity .

Why , art not thou the man ?

I am , indeed .

Then have I substance too .

No , no , I am but shadow of myself :
You are deceiv'd , 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 it .

This is a riddling merchant for the nonce ;
He will be here , and yet he is not here :
How can these contrarieties agree ?

That will I show you presently .


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 .

Victorious Talbot ! pardon my abuse :
I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited ,
And more than may be gather'd 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 .

Be not dismay'd , 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 .

With all my heart , and think me honoured 
To feast so great a warrior in my house .


Great lords , and gentlemen , what means this silence ?
Dare no man answer in a case of truth ?

Within the Temple hall we were too loud ;
The garden here is more convenient .

Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth ,
Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error ?

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 .

Judge you , my Lord of Warwick , then , between us .

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 judgment ;
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law ,
Good faith , I am no wiser than a daw .

Tut , tut ! here is a mannerly forbearance :
The truth appears so naked on my side ,
That any purblind eye may find it out .

And on my side it is so well apparell'd ,
So clear , so shining , and so evident ,
That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye .

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 brier pluck a white rose with me .

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 .

I love no colours , and , without all colour 
Of base insinuating flattery 
I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet .

I pluck this red rose with young Somerset :
And say withal I think he held the right .

Stay , lords and gentlemen , and pluck no more ,
Till you conclude that he , upon whose side 
The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree ,
Shall yield the other in the right opinion .

Good Master Vernon , it is well objected :
If I have fewest I subscribe in silence .

And I .

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 .

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 .

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 .

Well , well , come on : who else ?

Unless my study and my books be false ,
The argument you held was wrong in you ,
In sign whereof I pluck a white rose too .

Now , Somerset , where is your argument ?

Here , in my scabbard ; meditating that 
Shall dye your white rose in a bloody red .

Meantime , your cheeks do counterfeit our roses ;
For pale they look with fear , as witnessing 
The truth on our side .

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 .

Hath not thy rose a canker , Somerset ?

Hath not thy rose a thorn , Plantagenet ?

Ay , sharp and piercing , to maintain his truth ;
Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood .

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 .

Now , by this maiden blossom in my hand ,
I scorn thee and thy faction , peevish boy .

Turn not thy scorns this way , Plantagenet .

Proud Pole , I will , and scorn both him and thee .

I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat .

Away , away ! good William de la Pole :
We grace the yeoman by conversing with him .

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 ?

He bears him on the place's privilege ,
Or durst not , for his craven heart , say thus .

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 restor'd , thou art a yeoman .

My father was attached , not attained ;
Condemn'd to die for treason , but no traitor ;
And that I'll prove on better men than Somerset ,
Were growing time once ripen'd 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 warn'd .

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 .

And , by my soul , this pale and angry rose ,
As cognizance of my blood-drinking hate ,
Will I for ever and my faction wear ,
Until it wither with me to my grave 
Or flourish to the height of my degree .

Go forward , and be chok'd with thy ambition :
And so farewell until I meet thee next .


Have with thee , Pole . Farewell , ambitious Richard .


How I am brav'd and must perforce endure it !

This blot that they object against your house 
Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament ,
Call'd for the truce of Winchester and Gloucester ;
And 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 to-day ,
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 .

Good Master Vernon , I am bound to you ,
That you on my behalf would pluck a flower .

In your behalf still would I wear the same .

And so will I .

Thanks , gentle sir .
Come , let us four to dinner : I dare say 
This quarrel will drink blood another day .


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 gray locks , the pursuivants of death ,
Nestor-like aged , in an age of care ,
Argue the end of Edmund Mortimer .
These eyes , like lamps whose wasting oil is spent ,
Wax dim , as drawing to their exigent ;
Weak shoulders , overborne with burdening grief ,
And pithless arms , like to a wither'd 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 ?

Richard Plantagenet , my lord , will come :
We sent unto the Temple , unto his chamber .
And answer was return'd that he will come .

Enough : my soul shall then be satisfied .
Poor gentleman ! his wrong doth equal mine .
Since Henry Monmouth first began to reign ,
Before whose glory I was great in arms ,
This loathsome sequestration have I had ;
And even since then hath Richard been obscur'd ,
Depriv'd of honour and inheritance .
But now the arbitrator of despairs ,
Just death , kind umpire of men's miseries ,
With sweet enlargement doth dismiss me hence :
I would his troubles likewise were expir'd ,
That so he might recover what was lost .


My lord , your loving nephew now is come .

Richard Plantagenet , my friend , is he come ?

Ay , noble uncle , thus ignobly us'd ,
Your nephew , late despised Richard , comes .

Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck ,
And in his bosom spend my latter gasp :
O ! tell me when my lips do touch his cheeks ,
That I may kindly give one fainting kiss .
And now declare , sweet stem from York's great stock ,
Why didst thou say of late thou wert despis'd ?

First , lean thine aged back against mine arm ;
And in that ease , I'll tell thee my disease .
This day , in argument upon a case ,
Some words there grew 'twixt Somerset and me ;
Among which terms he us'd a 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 .

That cause , fair nephew , that imprison'd me ,
And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth 
Within a loathsome dungeon , there to pine ,
Was cursed instrument of his decease .

Discover more at large what cause that was ,
For I am ignorant and cannot guess .

I will , if that my fading breath permit ,
And death approach not ere my tale be done .
Henry the Fourth , grandfather to this king ,
Depos'd his nephew Richard , Edward's son ,
The first-begotten , and the lawful heir 
Of Edward king , the third of that descent :
During whose reign the Percies of the North ,
Finding his usurpation most unjust ,
Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne .
The reason mov'd these warlike lords to this 
Was , for that young King Richard thus remov'd ,
Leaving no heir begotten of his body 
I was the next by birth and parentage ;
For by my mother I derived am 
From Lionel Duke of Clarence , the third son 
To King Edward the Third ; whereas he 
From John of Gaunt doth bring his pedigree ,
Being but fourth of that heroic line .
But mark : as , in this haughty great attempt 
They laboured to plant the rightful heir ,
I lost my liberty , and they their lives .
Long after this , when Henry the Fifth 
Succeeding his father Bolingbroke , did reign ,
Thy father , Earl of Cambridge , then deriv'd 
From famous Edmund Langley , Duke of York ,
Marrying my sister that thy mother was ,
Again in pity of my hard distress 
Levied an army , weening to redeem 
And have install'd me in the diadem ;
But , as the rest , so fell that noble earl ,
And was beheaded . Thus the Mortimers ,
In whom the title rested , were suppress'd .

Of which , my lord , your honour is the last .

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 .

Thy grave admonishments prevail with me .
But yet methinks my father's execution 
Was nothing less than bloody tyranny .

With silence , nephew , be thou politic :
Strong-fixed is the house of Lancaster ,
And like a mountain , not to be remov'd .
But now thy uncle is removing hence ,
As princes do their courts , when they are cloy'd 
With long continuance in a settled place .

O uncle ! would some part of my young years 
Might but redeem the passage of your age .

Thou dost then wrong me ,as the 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 !


And peace , no war , befall thy parting soul !
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage ,
And like a hermit overpass'd thy days .
Well , I will lock his counsel in my breast ;
And what I do imagine let that rest .
Keepers , convey him hence ; and I myself 
Will see his burial better than his life .

Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer ,
Chok'd with ambition of the meaner sort :
And , for those wrongs , those bitter injuries ,
Which Somerset hath offer'd to my house ,
I doubt not but with honour to redress ;
And therefore haste I to the parliament ,
Either to be restored to my blood ,
Or make my ill the advantage of my good .


Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines ,
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd ,
Humphrey of Gloucester ? If thou canst accuse ,
Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge ,
Do it without invention , suddenly ;
As I , with sudden and extemporal speech 
Purpose to answer what thou canst object .

Presumptuous priest ! this place commands my patience 
Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonour'd me .
Think not , although in writing I preferr'd 
The manner of thy vile outrageous crimes ,
That therefore I have forg'd , or am not able 
Verbatim to rehearse the method of my pen :
No , prelate ; such is thy audacious wickedness ,
Thy lewd , pestiferous , and dissentious pranks ,
As very infants prattle of thy pride .
Thou art a most pernicious usurer ,
Froward by nature , enemy to peace ;
Lascivious , wanton , more than well beseems 
A man of thy profession and degree ;
And for thy treachery , what's more manifest ?
In that thou laid'st a trap to take my life 
As well at London Bridge as at the Tower .
Beside , I fear me , if thy thoughts were sifted ,
The king , thy sov'reign , is not quite exempt 
From envious malice of thy swelling heart .

Gloucester , I do defy thee . Lords , vouchsafe 
To give me hearing what I shall reply .
If I were covetous , ambitious , or perverse ,
As he will have me , how am I so poor ?
Or how haps it I seek not to advance 
Or raise myself , but keep my wonted calling ?
And for dissension , who preferreth peace 
More than I do , except I be provok'd ?
No , my good lords , it is not that offends ;
It is not that that hath incens'd the duke :
It is , because no one should sway but he ;
No one but he should be about the king ;
And that engenders thunder in his breast ,
And makes him roar these accusations forth .
But he shall know I am as good 

As good !
Thou bastard of my grandfather !

Ay , lordly sir ; for what are you , I pray ,
But one imperious in another's throne ?

Am I not protector , saucy priest ?

And am not I a prelate of the church ?

Yes , as an outlaw in a castle keeps ,
And useth it to patronage his theft .

Unreverent Gloucester !

Thou art reverent ,
Touching thy spiritual function , not thy life .

Rome shall remedy this .

Roam thither then .

My lord , it were your duty to forbear .

Ay , see the bishop be not overborne .

Methinks my lord should be religious ,
And know the office that belongs to such .

Methinks his lordship should be humbler ;
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead .

Yes , when his holy state is touch'd so near .

State holy , or unhallow'd , what of that ?
Is not his Grace protector to the king ?

Plantagenet , I see , must hold his tongue ,
Lest it be said , 'Speak , sirrah , when you should ;
Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords ?' 
Else would I have a fling at Winchester .

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 .

What tumult's this ?

An uproar , I dare warrant ,
Begun through malice of the bishop's men .

O , my good lords , and virtuous Henry ,
Pity the city of London , pity us !
The bishop and the Duke of Gloucester's men ,
Forbidden late to carry any weapon ,
Have fill'd their pockets full of pebble stones ,
And banding themselves in contrary parts 
Do pelt so fast at one another's pate ,
That many have their giddy brains knock'd out :
Our windows are broke down in every street ,
And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops .


We charge you , on allegiance to ourself ,
To hold your slaught'ring hands , and keep the peace .
Pray , uncle Gloucester , mitigate this strife .

Nay , if we be forbidden stones , we'll fall to it with our teeth .

Do what ye dare , we are as resolute .


You of my household , leave this peevish broil ,
And set this unaccustom'd fight aside .

My lord , we know your Grace to be a man 
Just and upright , and , for your royal birth ,
Inferior to none but to his majesty ;
And ere that we will suffer such a prince ,
So kind a father of the commonweal ,
To be disgraced by an inkhorn mate ,
We and our wives and children all will fight ,
And have our bodies slaught'red by thy foes .

Ay , and the very parings of our nails 
Shall pitch a field when we are dead .


Stay , stay , I say !
And , if you love me , as you say you do ,
Let me persuade you to forbear a while .

O ! how this discord doth afflict my soul !
Can you , my Lord of Winchester , behold 
My sighs and tears and will not once relent ?
Who should be pitiful if you be not ?
Or who should study to prefer a peace 
If holy churchmen take delight in broils ?

Yield , my Lord Protector ; yield , Winchester ;
Except you mean with obstinate repulse 
To slay your sov'reign 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 .

He shall submit or I will never yield .

Compassion on the king commands me stoop ;
Or I would see his heart out ere the priest 
Should ever get that privilege of me .

Behold , my Lord of Winchester , the duke 
Hath banish'd moody discontented fury ,
As by his smoothed brows it doth appear :
Why look you still so stern and tragical ?

Here , Winchester , I offer thee my hand .

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 ?

Sweet king ! the bishop hath a kindly gird .
For shame , my Lord of Winchester , relent !
What ! shall a child instruct you what to do ?

Well , Duke of Gloucester , I will yield to thee ;
Love for thy love and hand for hand I give .

Ay ; but I fear me , with a hollow heart .
See here , my friends and loving countrymen ,
This token serveth for a flag of truce ,
Betwixt ourselves and all our followers .
So help me God , as I dissemble not !

So help me God , as I intend it not !

O loving uncle , kind Duke of Gloucester ,
How joyful am I made by this contract !
Away , my masters ! trouble us no more ;
But join in friendship , as your lords have done .

Content : I'll to the surgeon's .

And so will I .

And I will see what physic the tavern affords .


Accept this scroll , most gracious sovereign ,
Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet 
We do exhibit to your majesty .

Well urg'd , my Lord of Warwick : for , sweet prince ,
An if your Grace mark every circumstance ,
You have great reason to do Richard right ;
Especially for those occasions 
At Eltham-place I told your majesty .

And those occasions , uncle , were of force :
Therefore , my loving lords , our pleasure is 
That Richard be restored to his blood .

Let Richard be restored to his blood ;
So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd .

As will the rest , so willeth Winchester .

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 .

Thy humble servant vows obedience ,
And humble service till the point of death .

Stoop then and set your knee against my foot ;
And , in reguerdon of that duty done ,
I girt thee with the valiant sword of York :
Rise , Richard , like a true Plantagenet ,
And rise created princely Duke of York .

And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall !
And as my duty springs , so perish they 
That grudge one thought against your majesty !

Welcome , high prince , the mighty Duke of York !

Perish , base prince , ignoble Duke of York !

Now , will it best avail your majesty 
To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France .
The presence of a king engenders love 
Amongst his subjects and his loyal friends ,
As it disanimates his enemies .

When Gloucester says the word , King Henry goes ;
For friendly counsel cuts off many foes .

Your ships already are in readiness .


Ay , we may march in England or in France ,
Not seeing what is likely to ensue .
This late dissension grown betwixt the peers 
Burns under feigned ashes of forg'd love ,
And will at last break out into a flame :
As fester'd members rot but by degree ,
Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away ,
So will this base and envious discord breed .
And now I fear that fatal prophecy 
Which in the time of Henry , nam'd the Fifth ,
Was in the mouth of every sucking babe ;
That Henry born at Monmouth should win all ;
And Henry born at Windsor should lose all :
Which is so plain that Exeter doth wish 
His days may finish ere that hapless time .

These are the city gates , the gates of Roan ,
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 .

Our sacks shall be a mean to sack the city ,
And we be lords and rulers over Roan ;
Therefore we'll knock .


Qui est l ?

Paisans , pauvres gens de France :
Poor market-folks that come to sell their corn .

Enter , go in ; the market-bell is rung .

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

Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem !
And once again we'll sleep secure in Roan .

Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants ;
Now she is there how will she specify 
Where is the best and safest passage in ?

By thrusting out a torch from yonder tower ;
Which , once discern'd , shows that her meaning is ,
No way to that , for weakness , which she enter'd .


Behold ! this is the happy wedding torch 
That joineth Roan unto her countrymen ,
But burning fatal to the Talbotites !


See , noble Charles , the beacon of our friend ,
The burning torch in yonder turret stands .

Now shine it like a comet of revenge ,
A prophet to the fall of all our foes !

Defer no time , delays have dangerous ends ;
Enter , and cry 'The Dauphin !' presently ,
And then do execution on the watch .

France , thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears ,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery .
Pucelle , that witch , that damned sorceress ,
Hath wrought this hellish mischief unawares ,
That hardly we escap'd the pride of France .


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 ?

Scoff on , vile fiend and shameless courtezan !
I trust ere long to choke thee with thine own ,
And make thee curse the harvest of that corn .

Your Grace may starve perhaps , before that time .

O ! let no words , but deeds , revenge this treason !

What will you do , good grey-beard ? break a lance ,
And run a tilt at death within a chair ?

Foul fiend of France , and hag of all despite ,
Encompass'd with thy lustful paramours !
Becomes it thee to taunt his valiant age 
And twit with cowardice a man half dead ?
Damsel , I'll have a bout with you again ,
Or else let Talbot perish with this shame .

Are you so hot , sir ? Yet , Pucelle , hold thy peace ;
If Talbot do but thunder , rain will follow .

God speed the parliament ! who shall be the speaker ?

Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field ?

Belike your lordship takes us then for fools ,
To try if that our own be ours or no .

I speak not to that railing Hecate ,
But unto thee , Alen on , and the rest ;
Will ye , like soldiers , come and fight it out ?

Signior , no .

Signior , hang ! base muleters of France !
Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls ,
And dare not take up arms like gentlemen .

Away , captains ! let's get us from the walls ;
For Talbot means no-goodness , by his looks .
God be wi' you , my lord ! we came but to tell you 
That we are here .


And there will we be too , ere it be long ,
Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame !
Vow , Burgundy , by honour of thy house ,
Prick'd on by public wrongs sustain'd in France ,
Either to get the town again , or die ;
And I , as sure as English Henry lives ,
And as his father here was conqueror ,
As sure as in this late-betrayed town 
Great C ur-de-lion's heart was buried ,
So sure I swear to get the town or die .

My vows are equal partners with thy vows .

But , ere we go , regard this dying prince ,
The valiant Duke of Bedford . Come , my lord ,
We will bestow you in some better place ,
Fitter for sickness and for crazy age .

Lord Talbot , do not so dishonour me :
Here will I sit before the walls of Roan ,
And will be partner of your weal or woe .

Courageous Bedford , let us now persuade you .

Not to be gone from hence ; for once I read ,
That stout Pendragon in his litter , sick ,
Came to the field and vanquished his foes :
Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts ,
Because I ever found them as myself .

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 .

Whither away , Sir John Fastolfe , in such haste ?

Whither away ! to save myself by flight :
We are like to have the overthrow again .

What ! will you fly , and leave Lord Talbot ?

Ay ,
All the Talbots in the world , to save my life .


Cowardly knight ! ill fortune follow thee !


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 .

Lost , and recover'd in a day again !
This is a double honour , Burgundy :
Yet heavens have glory for this victory !

Warlike and martial Talbot , Burgundy 
Enshrines thee in his heart , and there erects 
Thy noble deeds as valour's monument .

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 ? Roan 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 .

What wills Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy .

But yet , before we go , let's not forget 
The noble Duke of Bedford late deceas'd ,
But see his exequies fulfill'd in Roan :
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 .


Dismay not , princes , at this accident ,
Nor grieve that Roan is so recovered :
Care is no cure , but rather corrosive ,
For things that are not to be remedied .
Let frantic Talbot triumph for a while ,
And like a peacock sweep along his tail ;
We'll pull his plumes and take away his train ,
If Dauphin and the rest will be but rul'd .

We have been guided by thee hitherto ,
And of thy cunning had no diffidence :
One sudden foil shall never breed distrust .

Search out thy wit for secret policies ,
And we will make thee famous through the world .

We'll set thy statue in some holy place 
And have thee reverenc'd like a blessed saint :
Employ thee , then , sweet virgin , for our good .

Then thus it must be ; this doth Joan devise :
By fair persuasions , mix'd with sugar'd words ,
We will entice the Duke of Burgundy 
To leave the Talbot and to follow us .

Ay , marry , sweeting , if we could do that ,
France were no place for Henry's warriors ;
Nor should that nation boast it so with us ,
But be extirped from our provinces .

For ever should they be expuls'd from France ,
And not have title of an earldom here .

Your honours shall perceive how I will work 
To bring this matter to the wished end .

Hark ! by the sound of drum you may perceive 
Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward .


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

Now in the rearward comes the duke and his :
Fortune in favour makes him lag behind .
Summon a parley ; we will talk with him .

A parley with the Duke of Burgundy !

Who craves a parley with the Burgundy ?

The princely Charles of France , thy countryman .

What sayst thou , Charles ? for I am marching hence .

Speak , Pucelle , and enchant him with thy words .

Brave Burgundy , undoubted hope of France !
Stay , let thy humble handmaid speak to thee .

Speak on ; but be not over-tedious .

Look on thy country , look on fertile France ,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd 
By wasting ruin of the cruel foe .
As looks the mother on her lowly babe 
When death doth close his tender dying eyes ,
See , see the pining malady of France ;
Behold the wounds , the most unnatural wounds ,
Which thou thyself hast giv'n 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 .

Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words ,
Or nature makes me suddenly relent .

Besides , all French and France exclaims on thee ,
Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny .
Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation 
That will not trust thee but for profit's sake ?
When Talbot hath set footing once in France ,
And fashion'd thee that instrument of ill ,
Who then but English Henry will be lord ,
And thou be thrust out like a fugitive ?
Call we to mind , and mark but this for proof ,
Was not the Duke of Orleans thy foe ,
And was he not in England prisoner ?
But when they heard he was thine enemy ,
They set him free , without his ransom paid ,
In spite of Burgundy and all his friends .
See then , thou fight'st against thy countrymen !
And join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen .
Come , come , return ; return thou wand'ring lord ;
Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms .

I am vanquished ; these haughty words of hers 
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot ,
And made me almost yield upon my knees .
Forgive me , country , and sweet countrymen !
And , lords , accept this hearty kind embrace :
My forces and my power of men are yours .
So , farewell , Talbot ; I'll no longer trust thee .

Done like a Frenchman : turn , and turn again !

Welcome , brave duke ! thy friendship makes us fresh .

And doth beget new courage in our breasts .

Pucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this ,
And doth deserve a coronet of gold .

Now let us on , my lords , and join our powers :
And seek how we may prejudice the foe .


My gracious prince , and honourable peers ,
Hearing of your arrival in this realm ,
I have a while giv'n truce unto my wars ,
To do my duty to my sovereign :
In sign whereof , this arm ,that hath reclaim'd 
To your obedience fifty fortresses ,
Twelve cities , and seven walled towns of strength ,
Beside five hundred prisoners of esteem ,
Lets fall his sword before your highness' feet ,

And with submissive loyalty of heart ,
Ascribes the glory of his conquest got ,
First to my God , and next unto your Grace .

Is this the Lord Talbot , uncle Gloucester ,
That hath so long been resident in France ?

Yes , if it please your majesty , my liege .

Welcome , brave captain and victorious lord !
When I was young ,as yet I am not old ,
I do remember how my father said ,
A stouter champion never handled sword .
Long since we were resolved of your truth ,
Your faithful service and your toil in war ;
Yet never have you tasted our reward ,
Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks ,
Because till now we never saw your face :
Therefore , stand up ; and for these good deserts ,
We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury ;
And in our coronation take your place .


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 ?

Yes , sir : as well as you dare patronage 
The envious barking of your saucy tongue 
Against my lord the Duke of Somerset .

Sirrah , thy lord I honour as he is .

Why , what is he ? as good a man as York .

Hark ye ; not so : in witness , take ye that .


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 .

Well , miscreant , I'll be there as soon as you ;
And , after , meet you sooner than you would .


Lord bishop , set the crown upon his head .

God save King Henry , of that name the sixth .

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 !

My gracious sovereign ; as I rode from Calais ,
To haste unto your coronation ,
A letter was deliver'd to my hands ,
Writ to your Grace from the Duke of Burgundy .

Shame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee !
I vow'd , base knight , when I did meet thee next ,
To tear the garter from thy craven's leg ;

Which I have done , because unworthily 
Thou wast installed in that high degree .
Pardon me , princely Henry , and the rest :
This dastard , at the battle of Patay ,
When but in all I was six thousand strong ,
And that the French were almost ten to one ,
Before we met or that a stroke was given ,
Like to a trusty squire did run away :
In which assault we lost twelve hundred men ;
Myself , and divers gentlemen beside ,
Were there surpris'd and taken prisoners .
Then judge , great lords , if I have done amiss ;
Or whether that such cowards ought to wear 
This ornament of knighthood , yea , or no ?

To say the truth , this fact was infamous 
And ill beseeming any common man ,
Much more a knight , a captain and a leader .

When first this order was ordain'd , my lords ,
Knights of the garter were of noble birth ,
Valiant and virtuous , full of haughty courage ,
Such as were grown to credit by the wars ;
Not fearing death , nor shrinking for distress ,
But always resolute in most extremes .
He then that is not furnish'd in this sort 
Doth but usurp the sacred name of knight ,
Profaning this most honourable order ;
And should if I were worthy to be judge 
Be quite degraded , like a hedge-born swain 
That doth presume to boast of gentle blood .

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 .

And now , my Lord Protector , view the letter 
Sent from our uncle Duke of Burgundy .

What means his Grace , that he hath chang'd his style ?
No more , but plain and bluntly , To the King !
Hath he forgot he is his sovereign ?
Or doth this churlish superscription 
Pretend some alteration in good will ?
What's here ? I have , upon especial cause ,
Mov'd with compassion of my country's wrack ,
Together with the pitiful complaints 
Of such as your oppression feeds upon ,
Forsaken your pernicious faction ,
And join'd with Charles , the rightful King of France .
O , monstrous treachery ! Can this be so ,
That in alliance , amity , and oaths ,
There should be found such false dissembling guile ?

What ! doth my uncle Burgundy revolt ?

He doth , my lord , and is become your foe .

Is that the worst this letter doth contain ?

It is the worst , and all , my lord , he writes .

Why then , Lord Talbot there shall talk with him ,
And give him chastisement for this abuse .
How say you , my lord ? are you not content ?

Content , my liege ! Yes : but that I am prevented ,
I should have begg'd I might have been employ'd .

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 .

I go , my lord ; in heart desiring still 
You may behold confusion of your foes .

Grant me the combat , gracious sovereign !

And me , my lord ; grant me the combat too !

This is my servant : hear him , noble prince !

And this is mine : sweet Henry , favour him !

Be patient , lords ; and give them leave to speak .
Say , gentlemen , what makes you thus exclaim ?
And wherefore crave you combat ? or with whom ?

With him , my lord ; for he hath done me wrong .

And I with him ; for he hath done me wrong .

What is that wrong whereof you both complain ?
First let me know , and then I'll answer you .

Crossing the sea from England into France ,
This fellow here , with envious carping tongue ,
Upbraided me about the rose I wear ;
Saying , the sanguine colour of the leaves 
Did represent my master's blushing cheeks ,
When stubbornly he did repugn the truth 
About a certain question in the law 
Argu'd betwixt the Duke of York and him ;
With other vile and ignominious terms :
In confutation of which rude reproach ,
And in defence of my lord's worthiness ,
I crave the benefit of law of arms .

And that is my petition , noble lord :
For though he seem with forged quaint conceit ,
To set a gloss upon his bold intent ,
Yet know , my lord , I was provok'd by him ;
And he first took exceptions at this badge ,
Pronouncing , that the paleness of this flower 
Bewray'd the faintness of my master's heart .

Will not this malice , Somerset , be left ?

Your private grudge , my Lord of York , will out ,
Though ne'er so cunningly you smother it .

Good Lord ! what madness rules in brain-sick 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 .

Let this dissension first be tried by fight ,
And then your highness shall command a peace .

The quarrel toucheth none but us alone ;
Betwixt ourselves let us decide it , then .

There is my pledge ; accept it , Somerset .

Nay , let it rest where it began at first .

Confirm it so , mine honourable lord .

Confirm it so ! Confounded be your strife !
And perish ye , with your audacious prate !
Presumptuous vassals ! are you not asham'd ,
With this immodest clamorous outrage 
To trouble and disturb the king and us ?
And you , my lords , methinks you do not well 
To bear with their perverse objections ;
Much less to take occasion from their mouths 
To raise a mutiny betwixt yourselves :
Let me persuade you take a better course .

It grieves his highness : good my lords , be friends .

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 wav'ring nation .
If they perceive dissension in our looks ,
And that within ourselves we disagree ,
How will their grudging stomachs be provok'd 
To wilful disobedience , and rebel !
Beside , what infamy will there arise ,
When foreign princes shall be certified 
That for a toy , a thing of no regard ,
King Henry's peers and chief nobility 
Destroy'd themselves , and lost the realm of France !
O ! think upon the conquest of my father ,
My tender years , and let us not forego 
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 ,

That any one should therefore be suspicious 
I more incline to Somerset than York :
Both are my kinsmen , and I love them both .
As well they may upbraid me with my crown ,
Because , forsooth , the King of Scots is crown'd .
But your discretions better can persuade 
Than I am able to instruct or teach :
And therefore , as we hither came in peace ,
So let us still continue peace and love .
Cousin of York , we institute your Grace 
To be our regent in these parts of France :
And , good my Lord of Somerset , unite 
Your troops of horsemen with his bands of foot ;
And like true subjects , sons of your progenitors ,
Go cheerfully together and digest 
Your angry choler on your enemies .
Ourself , my Lord Protector , and the rest ,
After some respite will return to Calais ;
From thence to England ; where I hope ere long 
To be presented by your victories ,
With Charles , Alen on , and that traitorous rout .


My Lord of York , I promise you , the king Prettily , methought , did play the orator .

And so he did ; but yet I like it not ,
In that he wears the badge of Somerset .

Tush ! that was but his fancy , blame him not ;
I dare presume , sweet prince , he thought no harm .

An if I wist he did ,But let it rest ;
Other affairs must now be managed .


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


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


English John Talbot , captains , calls you forth ,
Servant in arms to Harry King of England ;
And thus he would : Open your city gates ,
Be humble to us , call my sov'reign yours ,
And do him homage as obedient subjects ,
And I'll withdraw me and my bloody power ;
But , if you frown upon this proffer'd peace ,
You tempt the fury of my three attendants ,
Lean famine , quartering steel , and climbing fire ;
Who in a moment even with the earth 
Shall lay your stately and air-braving towers ,

If you forsake the offer of their love .

Thou ominous and fearful owl of death ,
Our nation's terror and their bloody scourge !
The period of thy tyranny approacheth .
On us thou canst not enter but by death ;
For , I protest , we are well fortified ,
And strong enough to issue out and fight :
If thou retire , the Dauphin , well appointed ,
Stands with the snares of war to tangle thee :
On either hand thee there are squadrons pitch'd ,
To wall thee from the liberty of flight ;
And no way canst thou turn thee for redress 
But death doth front thee with apparent spoil ,
And pale destruction meets thee in the face .
Ten thousand French have ta'en the sacrament ,
To rive their dangerous artillery 
Upon no Christian soul but English Talbot .
Lo ! there thou stand'st , a breathing valiant man ,
Of an invincible unconquer'd spirit :
This is the latest glory of thy praise ,
That I , thy enemy , 'due thee withal ;
For ere the glass , that now begins to run ,
Finish the process of his sandy hour ,
These eyes , that see thee now well coloured ,
Shall see thee wither'd , bloody , pale , and dead .

Hark ! hark ! the Dauphin's drum , a warning bell ,
Sings heavy music to thy timorous soul ;
And mine shall ring thy dire departure out .


He fables not ; I hear the enemy :
Out , some light horsemen , and peruse their wings .
O ! negligent and heedless discipline ;
How are we park'd and bounded in a pale ,
A little herd of England's timorous deer ,
Maz'd with a yelping kennel of French curs !
If we be English deer , be then , in blood ;
Not rascal-like , to fall down with a pinch ,
But rather moody-mad and desperate stags ,
Turn on the bloody hounds with heads of steel ,
And make the cowards stand aloof at bay :
Sell every man his life as dear as mine ,
And they shall find dear deer of us , my friends .
God and Saint George , Talbot and England's right ,
Prosper our colours in this dangerous fight !


Are not the speedy scouts return'd again ,
That dogg'd the mighty army of the Dauphin ?

They are return'd , my lord ; and give it out ,
That he is march'd to Bourdeaux with his power ,
To fight with Talbot . As he march'd along ,
By your espials were discovered 
Two mightier troops than that the Dauphin led ,
Which join'd with him and made their march for Bourdeaux .

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 .


Thou princely leader of our English strength ,
Never so needful on the earth of France ,
Spur to the rescue of the noble Talbot ,
Who now is girdled with a waist of iron 
And hemm'd about with grim destruction .
To Bourdeaux , war-like duke ! To Bourdeaux , York !
Else , farewell Talbot , France , and England's honour .

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 , make me weep 
That thus we die , while remiss traitors sleep .

O ! send some succour to the distress'd lord .

He dies , we lose ; I break my war-like word ;
We mourn , France smiles ; we lose , they daily get ;
All 'long of this vile traitor Somerset .

Then God take mercy on brave Talbot's soul ;
And on his son young John , whom two hours since 
I met in travel toward his war-like father .
This seven years did not Talbot see his son ;
And now they meet where both their lives are done .

Alas ! what joy shall noble Talbot have ,
To bid his young son welcome to his grave ?
Away ! vexation almost stops my breath 
That sunder'd friends greet in the hour of death .
Lucy , farewell : no more my fortune can ,
But curse the cause I cannot aid the man .
Maine , Blois , Poictiers , and Tours , are won away ,
'Long all of Somerset and his delay .


Thus , while the vulture of sedition 
Feeds in the bosom of such great commanders ,
Sleeping neglection doth betray to loss 
The conquest of our scarce cold conqueror ,
That ever living man of memory ,
Henry the Fifth : Whiles they each other cross ,
Lives , honours , lands , and all hurry to loss .


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 .

Here is Sir William Lucy , who with me 
Set from our o'ermatch'd forces forth for aid .


How now , Sir William ! whither were you sent ?

Whither , my lord ? from bought and sold Lord Talbot ;
Who , ring'd about with bold adversity ,
Cries out for noble York and Somerset ,
To beat assailing death from his weak legions :
And whiles the honourable captain there 
Drops bloody sweat from his war-wearied limbs ,
And , in advantage lingering , 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 ,
Yields up his life unto a world of odds :
Orleans the Bastard , Charles , Burgundy ,
Alen on , Reignier , compass him about ,
And Talbot perisheth by your default .

York set him on ; York should have sent him aid .

And York as fast upon your Grace exclaims ;
Swearing that you withhold his levied host 
Collected for this expedition .

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 .

The fraud of England , not the force of France ,
Hath now entrapp'd the noble-minded Talbot .
Never to England shall he bear his life ,
But dies , betray'd to fortune by your strife .

Come , go ; I will dispatch the horsemen straight :
Within six hours they will be at his aid .

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 .

If he be dead , brave Talbot , then adieu !

His fame lives in the world , his shame in you .


O young John Talbot ! I did send for thee 
To tutor thee in stratagems of war ,
That Talbot's name might be in thee reviv'd 
When sapless age , and weak unable limbs 
Should bring thy father to his drooping chair .
But ,O malignant and ill-boding stars !
Now thou art come unto a feast of death ,
A terrible and unavoided danger :
Therefore , dear boy , mount on my swiftest horse ,
And I'll direct thee how thou shalt escape 
By sudden flight : come , dally not , be gone .

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 .

Fly , to revenge my death , if I be slain .

He that flies so will ne'er return again .

If we both stay , we both are sure to die .

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 preserv'd with infamy .

Shall all thy mother's hopes lie in one tomb ?

Ay , rather than I'll shame my mother's womb .

Upon my blessing I command thee go .

To fight I will , but not to fly the foe .

Part of thy father may be sav'd in thee .

No part of him but will be shame in me .

Thou never hadst renown , nor canst not lose it .

Yes , your renowned name : shall flight abuse it ?

Thy father's charge shall clear thee from that stain .

You cannot witness for me , being slain .
If death be so apparent , then both fly .

And leave my followers here to fight and die ?
My age was never tainted with such shame .

And shall my youth be guilty of such blame ?
No more can I be sever'd from your side 
Than can yourself yourself in twain divide .
Stay , go , do what you will , the like do I ;
For live I will not if my father die .

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 .

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 ? Pause , and take thy breath :
I gave thee life and rescu'd thee from death .

O ! twice my father , twice am I thy son :
The life thou gav'st me first was lost and done ,
Till with thy war-like sword , despite of fate ,
To my determin'd time thou gav'st new date .

When from the Dauphin's crest thy sword struck fire ,
It warm'd thy father's heart with proud desire 
Of bold-fac'd victory . Then leaden age ,
Quicken'd with youthful spleen and war-like rage ,
Beat down Alen on , Orleans , Burgundy ,
And from the pride of Gallia rescu'd thee .
The ireful bastard Orleans ,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 seal'd the son of chivalry ?
Fly , to revenge my death when I am dead ;
The help of one stands me in little stead .
O ! too much folly is it , well I wot ,
To hazard all our lives in one small boat .
If I to-day die not with Frenchmen's rage ,
To-morrow I shall die with mickle age :
By me they nothing gain an if I stay ;
'Tis but the short'ning of my life one day .
In thee thy mother dies , our household's name ,
My death's revenge , thy youth , and England's fame .
All these and more we hazard by thy stay ;
All these are sav'd if thou wilt fly away .

The sword of Orleans hath not made me smart ;
These words of yours draw life-blood from my heart .
On that advantage , bought with such a shame ,
To save a paltry life and slay bright fame ,
Before young Talbot from old Talbot fly ,
The coward horse that bears me fall and die !
And like me to the peasant boys of France ,
To be shame's scorn and subject of mischance !
Surely , by all the glory you have won ,
An if I fly , I am not Talbot's son :
Then talk no more of flight , it is no boot ;
If son to Talbot , die at Talbot's foot .

Then follow thou thy desperate sire of Crete ,
Thou Icarus . Thy life to me is sweet :
If thou wilt fight , fight by thy father's side ,
And , commendable prov'd , let's die in pride .


Where is my other life ?mine own is gone ;
O ! where's young Talbot ? where is valiant John ?
Triumphant death , smear'd with captivity ,
Young Talbot's valour makes me smile at thee .
When he perceiv'd me shrink and on my knee ,
His bloody sword he brandish'd over me ,
And like a hungry lion did commence 
Rough deeds of rage and stern impatience ;
But when my angry guardant stood alone ,
Tendering my ruin and assail'd of none ,
Dizzy-ey'd fury and great rage of 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 overmounting spirit ; and there died 
My Icarus , my blossom , in his pride .


O , my dear lord ! lo , where your son is borne !

Thou antick , death , which laugh'st us here to scorn ,
Anon , from thy insulting tyranny ,
Coupled in bonds of perpetuity ,
Two Talbots , winged through the lither sky ,
In thy despite shall 'scape mortality .
O ! thou , whose wounds become hard-favour'd death ,
Speak to thy father ere thou yield thy breath ;
Brave death by speaking whe'r he will or no ;
Imagine him a Frenchman and thy foe .
Poor boy ! he smiles , methinks , as who should say ,
Had death been French , then death had died to-day .
Come , come , and lay him in his father's arms :
My spirit can no longer bear these harms .
Soldiers , adieu ! I have what I would have ,
Now my old arms are young John Talbot's grave .

Had York and Somerset brought rescue in 
We should have found a bloody day of this .

How the young whelp of Talbot's , raging-wood ,
Did flesh his puny sword in Frenchmen's blood !

Once I encounter'd him , and thus I said :
'Thou maiden youth , be vanquish'd by a maid :' 
But with a proud majestical high scorn ,
He answer'd thus : 'Young Talbot was not born 
To be the pillage of a giglot wench .' 
So , rushing in the bowels of the French ,
He left me proudly , as unworthy fight .

Doubtless he would have made a noble knight ;
See , where he lies inhearsed in the arms 
Of the most bloody nurser of his harms .

Hew them to pieces , hack their bones asunder ,
Whose life was England's glory , Gallia's wonder .

O , no ! forbear ; for that which we have fled 
During the life , let us not wrong it dead .


Herald , conduct me to the Dauphin's tent ,
To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day .

On what submissive message art thou sent ?

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 .

For prisoners ask'st thou ? hell our prison is .
But tell me whom thou seek'st .

Where is the great Alcides of the field ,
Valiant Lord Talbot , Earl of Shrewsbury ?
Created , for his rare success in arms ,
Great Earl of Washford , Waterford , and Valence ;
Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Urchinfield ,
Lord Strange of Blackmere , Lord Vordun 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 mareschal to Henry the Sixth 
Of all his wars within the realm of France ?

Here is a silly stately style indeed !
The Turk , that two-and-fifty kingdoms hath ,
Writes not so tedious a style as this .
Him that thou magnifiest with all these titles ,
Stinking and fly-blown lies here at our feet .

Is Talbot slain , the Frenchmen's only scourge ,
Your kingdom's terror and black Nemesis ?
O ! were mine eye-balls into bullets turn'd ,
That I in rage might shoot them at your faces !
O ! that I could but call these dead to life !
It were enough to fright the realm of France .
Were but his picture left among 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 .

I think this upstart is old Talbot's ghost ,
He speaks with such a proud commanding spirit .
For God's sake , let him have 'em ; to keep them here 
They would but stink and putrefy the air .

Go , take their bodies hence .

I'll bear them hence :
But from their ashes shall be rear'd 
A ph nix that shall make all France afeard .

So we be rid of them , do with 'em what thou wilt .
And now to Paris , in this conquering vein :
All will be ours now bloody Talbot's slain .

Have you perus'd the letters from the pope ,
The emperor , and the Earl of Armagnac ?

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 .

How doth your Grace affect their motion ?

Well , my good lord ; and as the only means 
To stop effusion of our Christian blood ,
And stablish quietness on every side .

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 .

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 .

Marriage , uncle ! alas ! my years are young ,
And fitter is my study and my books 
Than wanton dalliance with a paramour .
Yet call the ambassadors ; and , as you please ,
So let them have their answers every one :
I shall be well content with any choice 
Tends to God's glory and my country's weal .

What ! is my Lord of Winchester install'd ,
And call'd 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 .' 

My lords ambassadors , your several suits 
Have been consider'd , and debated on .
Your purpose is both good and reasonable ;
And therefore are we certainly resolv'd 
To draw conditions of a friendly peace ;
Which by my Lord of Winchester we mean 
Shall be transported presently to France .

And for the proffer of my lord your master ,
I have inform'd his highness so at large ,
As ,liking of the lady's virtuous gifts ,
Her beauty , and the value of her dower ,
He doth intend she shall be England's queen .

In argument and proof of which contract ,
Bear her this jewel , pledge of my affection .
And so , my lord protector , see them guarded ,
And safely brought to Dover ; where inshipp'd 
Commit them to the fortune of the sea .


Stay , my lord legate : you shall first receive 
The sum of money which I promised 
Should be deliver'd to his holiness 
For clothing me in these grave ornaments .

I will attend upon your lordship's leisure .

Now Winchester will not submit , I trow ,
Or be inferior to the proudest peer .
Humphrey of Gloucester , thou shalt well perceive 
That neither in birth or for authority 
The bishop will be overborne by thee :
I'll either make thee stoop and bend thy knee ,
Or sack this country with a mutiny .


These news , my lord , may cheer our drooping spirits ;
'Tis said the stout Parisians do revolt ,
And turn again unto the war-like French .

Then , march to Paris , royal Charles of France ,
And keep not back your powers in dalliance .

Peace be amongst them if they turn to us ;
Else , ruin combat with their palaces !


Success unto our valiant general ,
And happiness to his accomplices !

What tidings send our scouts ? I prithee speak .

The English army , that divided was 
Into two parties , is now conjoin'd in one ,
And means to give you battle presently .

Somewhat too sudden , sirs , the warning is :
But we will presently provide for them .

I trust the ghost of Talbot is not there :
Now he is gone , my lord , you need not fear .

Of all base passions , fear is most accurs'd .
Command the conquest , Charles , it shall be thine ;
Let Henry fret and all the world repine .

Then on , my lords ; and France be fortunate !


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 :

You speedy helpers , that are substitutes 
Under the lordly monarch of the north ,
Appear , and aid me in this enterprise !


This speedy and quick appearance argues proof 
Of your accustom'd diligence to me .
Now , ye familiar spirits , that are cull'd 
Out of the powerful regions under earth ,
Help me this once , that France may get the field .

O ! hold me not with silence over-long .
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 .

No hope to have redress ? My body shall 
Pay recompense , if you will grant my suit .

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 .

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 .

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 !
See how the ugly witch doth bend her brows ,
As if with Circe she would change my shape .

Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be .

O ! Charles the Dauphin is a proper man ;
No shape but his can please your dainty eye .

A plaguing mischief light on Charles and thee !
And may ye both be suddenly surpris'd 
By bloody hands , in sleeping on your beds !

Fell banning hag , enchantress , hold thy tongue !

I prithee , give me leave to curse a while .

Curse , miscreant , when thou comest to the stake .

Be what thou wilt , thou art my prisoner .

O fairest beauty ! do not fear nor fly ,
For I will touch thee but with reverent hands .
I kiss these fingers for eternal peace ,
And lay them gently on thy tender side .
What art thou ? say , that I may honour thee .

Margaret my name , and daughter to a king ,
The King of Naples , whosoe'er thou art .

An earl I am , and Suffolk am I call'd .
Be not offended , nature's miracle ,
Thou art allotted to be ta'en by me :
So doth the swan her downy cygnets save ,
Keeping them prisoners underneath her wings .
Yet if this servile usage once offend ,
Go and be free again , as Suffolk's friend .

O stay ! 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 streams ,
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 thy prisoner ?
Wilt thou be daunted at a woman's sight ?
Ay ; beauty's princely majesty is such 
Confounds the tongue and makes the senses rough .

Say , Earl of Suffolk ,if thy name be so ,
What ransom must I pay before I pass ?
For I perceive , I am thy prisoner .

How canst thou tell she will deny thy suit ,
Before thou make a trial of her love ?

Why speak'st thou not ? what ransom must I pay ?

She's beautiful and therefore to be woo'd ,
She is a woman , therefore to be won .

Wilt thou accept of ransom , yea or no ?

Fond man ! remember that thou hast a wife ;
Then how can Margaret be thy paramour ?

I were best to leave him , for he will not hear .

There all is marr'd ; there lies a cooling card .

He talks at random ; sure , the man is mad .

And yet a dispensation may be had .

And yet I would that you would answer me .

I'll win this Lady Margaret . For whom ?
Why , for my king : tush ! that's a wooden thing .

He talks of wood : it is some carpenter .

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 .

Hear ye , captain ? Are you not at leisure ?

It shall be so , disdain they ne'er so much :
Henry is youthful and will quickly yield .
Madam , I have a secret to reveal .

What though I be enthrall'd ? he seems a knight ,
And will not any way dishonour me .

Lady , vouchsafe to listen what I say .

Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French ;
And then I need not crave his courtesy .

Sweet madam , give me hearing in a cause 

Tush , women have been captivate ere now .

Lady , wherefore talk you so ?

I cry you mercy , 'tis but quid for quo .

Say , gentle princess , would you not suppose 
Your bondage happy to be made a queen ?

To be a queen in bondage is more vile 
Than is a slave in base servility ;
For princes should be free .

And so shall you ,
If happy England's royal king be free .

Why , what concerns his freedom unto me ?

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 

What ?

His love .

I am unworthy to be Henry's wife .

No , gentle madam ; I unworthy am 
To woo so fair a dame to be his wife 
And have no portion in the choice myself .
How say you , madam , are you so content ?

An if my father please , I am content .

Then call our captains and our colours forth !
And , madam , at your father's castle walls 
We'll crave a parley , to confer with him .

See , Reignier , see thy daughter prisoner !

To whom ?

To me .

Suffolk , what remedy ?
I am a soldier , and unapt to weep ,
Or to exclaim on Fortune's fickleness .

Yes , there is remedy enough ; my lord :
Consent , and for thy honour , give consent ,
Thy daughter shall be wedded to my king ,
Whom I with pain have woo'd and won thereto ;
And this her easy-held imprisonment 
Hath gain'd thy daughter princely liberty .

Speaks Suffolk as he thinks ?

Fair Margaret knows 
That Suffolk doth not flatter , face , or feign .

Upon thy princely warrant , I descend 
To give thee answer of thy just demand .


And here I will expect thy coming .


Welcome , brave earl , into our territories :
Command in Anjou what your honour pleases .

Thanks , Reignier , happy for so sweet a child ,
Fit to be made companion with a king .
What answer makes your Grace unto my suit ?

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 county Maine and Anjou ,
Free from oppression or the stroke of war ,
My daughter shall be Henry's if he please .

That is her ransom ; I deliver her ;
And those two counties I will undertake 
Your Grace shall well and quietly enjoy .

And I again , in Henry's royal name ,
As deputy unto that gracious king ,
Give thee her hand for sign of plighted faith .

Reignier of France , I give thee kingly thanks ,
Because this is in traffic of a king :


And yet , methinks , I could be well content 
To be mine own attorney in this case .
I'll over then , to England with this news ,
And make this marriage to be solemniz'd .
So farewell , Reignier : set this diamond safe ,
In golden palaces , as it becomes .

I do embrace thee , as I would embrace 
The Christian prince , King Henry , were he here .

Farewell , my lord . Good wishes , praise , and prayers 
Shall Suffolk ever have of Margaret .


Farewell , sweet madam ! but hark you , Margaret ;
No princely commendations to my king ?

Such commendations as become a maid ,
A virgin , and his servant , say to him .

Words sweetly plac'd and modestly directed .
But madam , I must trouble you again ,
No loving token to his majesty ?

Yes , my good lord ; a pure unspotted heart ,
Never yet taint with love , I send the king .

And this withal .


That for thyself : I will not so presume ,
To send such peevish tokens to a king .


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 
And 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 .


Bring forth that sorceress , condemn'd to burn .


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 .

Decrepit miser ! base ignoble wretch !
I am descended of a gentler blood :
Thou art no father nor no friend of mine .

Out , out ! My lords , an 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 bachelorship .

Graceless ! wilt thou deny thy parentage ?

This argues what her kind of life hath been :
Wicked and vile ; and so her death concludes .

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 .

Peasant , avaunt ! You have suborn'd this man ,
Of purpose to obscure my noble birth .

'Tis true , I gave a noble to the priest ,
The morn that I was wedded to her mother .
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 suck'dst her breast ,
Had been a little ratsbane for thy sake !
Or else , when thou didst keep my lambs a-field 
I wish some ravenous wolf had eaten thee !
Dost thou deny thy father , cursed drab ?
O ! burn her , burn her ! hanging is too good .


Take her away ; for she hath liv'd too long ,
To fill the world with vicious qualities .

First , let me tell you whom you have condemn'd :
Not me begotten of a shepherd swain ,
But issu'd 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 ,
Stain'd 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 effus'd ,
Will cry for vengeance at the gates of heaven .

Ay , ay : away with her to execution !

And hark ye , sirs ; because she is a maid ,
Spare for no fagots , let there be enow :
Place barrels of pitch upon the fatal stake ,
That so her torture may be shortened .

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 .

Now , heaven forefend ! the holy maid with child !

The greatest miracle that e'er ye wrought !
Is all your strict preciseness come to this ?

She and the Dauphin have been juggling :
I did imagine what would be her refuge .

Well , go to ; we will have no bastards live ;
Especially since Charles must father it .

You are deceiv'd ; my child is none of his :
It was Alen on that enjoy'd my love .

Alen on ! that notorious Machiavel !
It dies an if it had a thousand lives .

O ! give me leave , I have deluded you :
'Twas neither Charles , nor yet the duke I nam'd ,
But Reignier , King of Naples , that prevail'd .

A married man : that's most intolerable .

Why , here's a girl ! I think she knows not well ,
There were so many , whom she may accuse .

It's sign she hath been liberal and free .

And yet , forsooth , she is a virgin pure .
Strumpet , thy words condemn thy brat and thee :
Use no entreaty , for it is in vain .

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 !


Break thou in pieces and consume to ashes ,
Thou foul accursed minister of hell !


Lord regent , I do greet your excellence 
With letters of commission from the king .
For know , my lords , the states of Christendom ,
Mov'd with remorse of these outrageous broils ,
Have earnestly implor'd 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 .

Is all our travail turn'd 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 .

Be patient , York : if we conclude a peace ,
It shall be with such strict and severe covenants 
As little shall the Frenchmen gain thereby .


Since , lords of England , it is thus agreed ,
That peaceful truce shall be proclaim'd in France ,
We come to be informed by yourselves 
What the conditions of that league must be .

Speak , Winchester ; for boiling choler chokes 
The hollow passage of my poison'd voice ,
By sight of these our baleful enemies .

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 plac'd as viceroy under him ,
And still enjoy thy regal dignity .

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 .

'Tis known already that I am possess'd 
With more than half the Gallian territories ,
And therein reverenc'd for their lawful king :
Shall I , for lucre of the rest unvanquish'd ,
Detract so much from that prerogative 
As to be call'd 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 .

Insulting Charles ! hast thou by secret means 
Us'd 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 .

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 .

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 .

How sayst thou , Charles ? shall our condition stand ?

It shall ;
Only reserv'd , you claim no interest 
In any of our towns of garrison .

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 .

So , now dismiss your army when ye please ;
Hang up your ensigns , let your drums be still ,
For here we entertain a solemn peace .


Your wondrous rare description , noble earl ,
Of beauteous Margaret hath astonish'd me :
Her virtues , graced 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 shipwrack , or arrive 
Where I may have fruition of her love .

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 .

And otherwise will Henry ne'er presume .
Therefore , my Lord Protector , give consent 
That Margaret may be England's royal queen .

So should I give consent to flatter sin .
You know , my lord , your highness is betroth'd 
Unto another lady of esteem ;
How shall we then dispense with that contract ,
And not deface your honour with reproach ?

As doth a ruler with unlawful oaths ;
Or one that , at a triumph having vow'd 
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 .

Why , what , I pray , is Margaret more than that ?
Her father is no better than an earl ,
Although in glorious titles he excel .

Yes , my good 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 .

And so the Earl of Armagnac may do ,
Because he is near kinsman unto Charles .

Beside , his wealth doth warrant liberal dower ,
Where Reignier sooner will receive than give .

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 
It most of all these reasons bindeth us ,
In our opinions she should be preferr'd .
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 link'd in love .
Then yield , my lords ; and here conclude with me 
That Margaret shall be queen , and none but she .

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 assur'd ,
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 crown'd 
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 .
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 .


Ay , grief , I fear me , both at first and last .


Thus Suffolk hath prevail'd ; 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 .