King Henry VI, First Part
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PLANTAGENETAnd 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 myselfWill see his burial better than his life.
[Exeunt Jailers, bearing out the body of Mortimer.]
Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer,Choked 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.[Exit.]
ACT THIRD
SCENE I. London. The Parliament-house
[Flourish. Enter King, Exeter, Gloucester, Warwick, Somerset, and Suffolk; the Bishop of Winchester, Richard Plantagenet, and others. Gloucester offers to put up a bill; Winchester snatches it, tears it.]
WINCHESTERComest thou with deep premeditated lines,With written pamphlets studiously devised,Humphrey of Gloucester? If thou canst accuse,Or aught intend'st to lay unto my charge.Do it without invention, suddenly;As I with sudden and extemporal speechPurpose to answer what thou canst object.GLOUCESTERPresumptuous priest! this place commands my patience,Or thou shouldst find thou hast dishonor'd me.Think not, although in writing I preferr'dThe manner of thy vile outrageous crimes,That therefore I have forged, or am not ableVerbatim 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 beseemsA man of thy profession and degree;And for thy treachery, what's more manifestIn 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 are siftedThe king, thy sovereign, is not quite exemptFrom envious malice of thy swelling heart.WINCHESTERGloucester, I do defy thee. Lords, vouchsafeTo 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 advanceOr raise myself, but keep my wonted calling?And for dissension, who preferreth peaceMore than I do? – except I be provoked.No, my good lords, it is not that offends;It is not that that hath incensed the duke:It is, because no one should sway but he;No one but he should be about the king;And that engenders thunder in his breast,And makes him roar these accusations forth.But he shall know I am as good —GLOUCESTERAs good!Thou bastard of my grandfather!WINCHESTERAye, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray,But one imperious in another's throne?GLOUCESTERAm I not protector, saucy priest?WINCHESTERAnd am not I a prelate of the church?GLOUCESTERYes, as an outlaw in a castle keepsAnd useth it to patronage his theft.WINCHESTERUnreverent Gloster!GLOUCESTERThou art reverentTouching thy spiritual function, not thy life.WINCHESTERRome shall remedy this.WARWICKRoam thither, then.SOMERSETMy lord, it were your duty to forbear.WARWICKAy, see the bishop be not overborne.SOMERSETMethinks my lord should be religious,And know the office that belongs to such.WARWICKMethinks his lordship should be humbler;It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.SOMERSETYes, when his holy state is touch'd so near.WARWICKState holy or unhallow'd, what of that?Is not his grace protector to the king?PLANTAGENET[Aside] Plantagenet, I see, must hold his tongue,Lest it be said, 'Speak, sirrah, when you should:Must your bold verdict enter talk with lords?'Else would I have a fling at Winchester.KINGUncles 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 tellCivil dissension is a viperous wormThat gnaws the bowels of the commonwealth.[A noise within, 'Down with the tawny-coats!'What tumult's this?WARWICKAn uproar, I dare warrant,Begun through malice of the bishop's men.[A noise again, 'Stones! stones!'Enter Mayor.]MAYORO, 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 partsDo pelt so fast at one another's pateThat many have their giddy brains knock'd out:Our windows are broke down in every street,And we for fear compell'd to shut our shops.[Enter Serving-men, in skirmish, with bloody pates.]
KINGWe charge you, on allegiance to ourself,To hold your slaughtering hands and keep the peace.Pray, uncle Gloucester, mitigate this strife.FIRST SERVING-MAN. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we 'll fall to it with our teethSECOND SERVING-MAN.Do what ye dare, we are as resolute.[Skirmish again.]
GLOUCESTERYou of my household, leave this peevish broilAnd set this unaccustom'd fight aside.THIRD SERVING-MANMy lord, we know your grace to be a manJust 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 slaughter'd by thy foes.FIRST SERVING-MANAye, and the very parings of our nailsShall pitch a field when we are dead.[Begin again.]
GLOUCESTERStay, stay, I say!And if you love me, as you say you do,Let me persuade you to forbear awhile.KINGO, how this discord doth afflict my soul!Can you, my Lord of Winchester, beholdMy 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?WARWICKYield, my lord protector; yield, Winchester;Except you mean with obstinate repulseTo slay your sovereign and destroy the realm.You see what mischief and what murder tooHath been enacted through your enmity;Then be at peace, except ye thirst for blood.WINCHESTERHe shall submit, or I will never yield.GLOUCESTERCompassion on the king commands me stoop;Or I would see his heart out, ere the priestShould ever get that privilege of me.WARWICKBehold, my Lord of Winchester, the dukeHath banish'd moody discontented fury,As by his smoothed brows it doth appear:Why look you still so stem and tragical?GLOUCESTERHere, Winchester, I offer thee my hand.KINGFie, uncle Beaufort! I have heard you preachThat malice was a great and grievous sin;And will not you maintain the thing you teach,But prove a chief offender in the same?WARWICKSweet king! the bishop hath a kindly gird.For shame, my lord of Winchester, relent!What, shall a child instruct you what to do?WINCHESTERWell, Duke of Gloucester, I will yield to thee;Love for thy love and hand for hand I give.GLOUCESTER[Aside] Aye, but, I fear me, with a hollow heart. —See here, my friends and loving countrymen;This token serveth for a flag of truceBetwixt ourselves and all our followers:So help me God, as I dissemble not!WINCHESTER[Aside] So help me God, as I intend it not!KINGO loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester,How joyful am I made by this contract!Away, my masters! trouble us no more;But join in friendship, as your lords have done.FIRST SERVING-MANContent: I'll to the surgeon's.SECOND SERVING-MAN.And so will I.THIRD SERVING-MANAnd I will see what physic the tavern affords.[Exeunt Serving-men, Mayor, &C.]
WARWICKAccept this scroll, most gracious sovereign;Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet.We do exhibit to your majesty.GLOUCESTERWell urged, my Lord of Warwick: for, sweet prince,An if your Grace mark every circumstance,You have great reason to do Richard right:Especially for those occasionsAt Eltham place I told your majesty.KINGAnd those occasions, uncle, were of force;Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure isThat Richard be restored to his blood.WARWICKLet Richard be restored to his blood;So shall his father's wrongs be recompensed.WINCHESTERAs will the rest, so willeth Winchester.KINGIf Richard will be true, not that aloneBut all the whole inheritance I giveThat doth belong unto the house of York,From whence you spring by lineal descent.PLANTAGENETThy humble servant vows obedienceAnd humble service till the point of death.KINGStoop 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.PLANTAGENETAnd so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall!And as my duty springs, so perish theyThat grudge one thought against your majesty!ALL.Welcome, high prince, the mighty Duke of York!SOMERSET[Aside] Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke of York!GLOUCESTERNow will it best avail your majestyTo cross the seas and to be crown'd in France:The presence of a king engenders loveAmongst his subjects and his loyal friends,As it disanimates his enemies.KINGWhen Gloucester says the word, King Henry goes;For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.GLOUCESTERYour ships already are in readiness.[Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but Exeter.]
EXETERAye, we may march in England or in France,Not seeing what is likely to ensue.This late dissension grown betwixt the peersBurns under feigned ashes of forged love,And will at last break out into a flame;As fest'red members rot but by degree,Till bones and flesh and sinews fall away,So will this base and envious discord breed.And now I fear that fatal prophecyWhich in the time of Henry named the fifthWas in the mouth of every sucking babe;That Henry born at Monmouth should win allAnd Henry born at Windsor lose all:Which is so plain, that Exeter doth wishHis days may finish ere that hapless time.[Exit.]
SCENE II. France. Before Rouen
[Enter La Pucelle disguised, with four Soldiers with sacks upon their backs.]
PUCELLEThese are the city gates, the gates of Rouen,Through which our policy must make a breach:Take heed, be wary how you place your words;Talk like the vulgar sort of market menThat come to gather money for their corn.If we have entrance, as I hope we shall,And that we find the slothful watch but weak,I 'll by a sign give notice to our friends,That Charles the Dauphin may encounter them.FIRST SOLDIEROur sacks shall be a mean to sack the city,And we be lords and rulers over Rouen;Therefore we 'll knock. [Knocks.]WATCH[Within] Qui est la?PUCELLEPaysans, pauvres gens de France;Poor market folks that come to sell their corn.WATCHEnter, go in; the market bell is rung.PUCELLENow, Rouen, I 'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.[Exeunt.]
[Enter Charles, the Bastard of Orleans, Alencon, Reignier, and forces.]
CHARLESSaint Denis bless this happy stratagem!And once again we 'll sleep secure in Rouen.BASTARDHere enter'd Pucelle and her practisants;Now she is there, how will she specifyHere is the best and safest passage in?REIGNIERBy 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.[Enter La Pucelle, on the top, thrusting out a torch burning.]
PUCELLEBehold, this is the happy wedding torchThat joineth Rouen unto her countrymen,But burning fatal to the Talbotites![Exit.]
BASTARDSee, noble Charles, the beacon of our friend;The burning torch in yonder turret stands.CHARLESNow shine it like a comet of revenge,A prophet to the fall of all our foes!REIGNIERDefer no time, delays have dangerous ends;Enter, and cry, 'The Dauphin!' presently,And then do execution on the watch.[Alarum. Exeunt.]
[An alarum. Enter Talbot in an excursion.]
TALBOTFrance, 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 escaped the pride of France.[Exit.]
[An alarum: excursions.]
[Bedford, brought in sick in a chair. Enter Talbot and Burgundy without: within La Pucelle, Charles, Bastard, Alencon, and Reignier, on the walls.]
PUCELLEGood morrow, gallants! want ye corn for bread?I think the Duke of Burgundy will fastBefore he 'll buy again at such a rate:'Twas full of darnel: do you like the taste?BURGUNDYScoff 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.CHARLESYour Grace may starve perhaps before that time.BEDFORDO, let no words, but deeds, revenge this treason!PUCELLEWhat will you do, good graybeard? break a lance,And run a tilt at death within a chair?TALBOTFoul 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.PUCELLEAre ye so hot? yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.[The English party whisper together in council. ]
God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?TALBOTDare ye come forth and meet us in the field?PUCELLEBelike your lordship takes us then for fools,To try if that our own be ours or no.TALBOTI speak not to that railing Hecate,But unto thee, Alencon, and the rest;Will ye, like soldiers, come and fight it out?ALENCONSignior, no.TALBOTSignior, hang! base muleters of France!Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls,And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.PUCELLEAway, 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 youThat we are here.[Exeunt from the walls.]
TALBOTAnd there will we be too, ere it be long,Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame!Vow, Burgundy, by honor 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 townGreat Coeur-de-lion's heart was buried,So sure I swear to get the town or die.BURGUNDYMy vows are equal partners with thy vows.TALBOTBut, 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.BEDFORDLord Talbot, do not so dishonor me:Here will I sit before the walls of Rouen,And will be partner of your weal or woe.BURGUNDYCourageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.BEDFORDNot to be gone from hence; for once I readThat stout Pendragon in his litter sickCame to the field and vanquished his foes.Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts,Because I ever found them as myself.TALBOTUndaunted 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 handAnd set upon our boasting enemy.[Exeunt all but Bedford and Attendants.]
[An alarum: excursions. Enter Sir John Fastolfe and a Captain.]
CAPTAINWhither away, Sir John Fastolfe, in such haste?FASTOLFEWhither away! to save myself by flight:We are like to have the overthrow again.CAPTAINWhat! Will you fly, and leave Lord Talbot?FASTOLFEAye,All the Talbots in the world, to save my life.[Exit.]
CAPTAINCowardly knight! ill fortune follow thee![Exit.]
[Retreat: excursions. La Pucelle, Alencon, and Charles fly.]
BEDFORDNow, 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 scoffsAre glad and fain by flight to save themselves.[Bedford dies, and is carried in by two in his chair.]
[An alarum. Re-enter Talbot, Burgundy, and the rest.]
TALBOTLost, and recover'd in a day again!This is a double honor, Burgundy:Yet heavens have glory for this victory!BURGUNDYWarlike and martial Talbot, BurgundyEnshrines thee in his heart, and there erectsThy noble deeds as valor's monuments.TALBOTThanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?I think her old familiar is asleep:Now where 's the Bastard's braves, and Charles his gleeks?What, all amort? Rouen hangs her head for griefThat 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.BURGUNDYWhat Lord Talbot pleaseth Burgundy.TALBOTBut yet, before we go, let 's not forgetThe noble Duke of Bedford late deceased,But see his exequies fulfill'd in Rouen:A braver soldier never couched lance,A gentler heart did never sway in court;But kings and mightiest potentates must die,For that's the end of human misery.[Exeunt.]
SCENE III. The plains near Rouen
[Enter Charles, the Bastard of Orleans, Alencon, La Pucelle, and forces.]
PUCELLEDismay not, princes, at this accident,Nor grieve that Rouen is so recovered:Care is no cure, but rather corrosive,For things that are not to be remedied.Let frantic Talbot triumph for a whileAnd like a peacock sweep along his tail;We 'll pull his plumes and take away his train,If Dauphin and the rest will be but ruled.CHARLESWe have been guided by thee hitherto,And of thy cunning had no diffidence:One sudden foil shall never breed distrustBASTARDSearch out thy wit for secret policies,And we will make thee famous through the world.ALENCONWe'll set thy statue in some holy place,And have thee reverenced like a blessed saint.Employ thee then, sweet virgin, for our good.PUCELLEThen thus it must be; this doth Joan devise:By fair persuasions mix'd with sugar'd wordsWe will entice the Duke of BurgundyTo leave the Talbot and to follow us.CHARLESAye, 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.ALENCONFor ever should they be expulsed from France,And not have tide of an earldom here.PUCELLEYour honours shall perceive how I will workTo bring this matter to the wished end.[Drum sounds afar off.]
Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceiveTheir powers are marching unto Paris-ward.Here sound an English march. Enter, and pass overat a distance, Talbot and his forces.There goes the Talbot, with his colors spread,And all the troops of English after him.[French march. Enter the Duke of Burgundy and forces.]
Now in the rearward comes the duke and his:Fortune in favor makes him lag behind.Summon a parley; we will talk with him.[Trumpets sound a parley.]
CHARLESA parley with the Duke of Burgundy!BURGUNDYWho craves a parley with the Burgundy?PUCELLEThe princely Charles of France, thy countryman.BURGUNDYWhat say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence.CHARLESSpeak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.PUCELLEBrave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee.BURGUNDYSpeak on; but be not over-tedious.PUCELLELook on thy country, look on fertile France,And see the cities and the towns defacedBy wasting ruin of the cruel foe.As looks the mother on her lowly babeWhen death doth close his tender dying eyes,See, see the pining malady of France;Behold the wounds, the most unnatural wounds,Which thou thyself hast given her woful 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 bosomShould grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore:Return thee therefore with a flood of tears,And wash away thy country's stained spots.BURGUNDYEither she hath bewitch'd me with her words,Or nature makes me suddenly relent.PUCELLEBesides, all French and France exclaims on thee,Doubting thy birth and lawful progeny.Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nationThat 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 countrymenAnd join'st with them will be thy slaughtermen.Come, come, return; return, thou wandering lord;Charles and the rest will take thee in their arms.BURGUNDYI am vanquished; these haughty words of hersHave batt'red me like roaring cannon-shot,And made me almost yield upon my knees.Forgive me, country, and sweet countrymen,And, lords, accept this hearty kind embrace:My forces and my power of men are yours:So, farewell, Talbot; I 'll no longer trust thee.PUCELLE[Aside] Done like a Frenchman: turn and turn again!CHARLESWelcome, brave duke; thy friendship makes us fresh.BASTARDAnd doth beget new courage in our breasts.ALENCONPucelle hath bravely play'd her part in this,And doth deserve a coronet of gold.CHARLESNow let us on, my lords, and join our powers,And seek how we may prejudice the foe.[Exeunt.]
SCENE IV. Paris. The palace
[Enter the King, Gloucester, Bishop of Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Exeter: Vernon, Basset, and others. To them with his soldiers, Talbot.]
TALBOTMy gracious Prince, and honourable peers,Hearing of your arrival in this realm,I have awhile given truce unto my wars,To do my duty to my sovereign:In sign whereof, this arm, that hath reclaim'dTo 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 heartAscribes the glory of his conquest gotFirst to my God and next unto your grace. [Kneels.]KINGIs this the Lord Talbot, uncle Gloucester,That hath so long been resident in France?GLOUCESTERYes, if it please your majesty, my liege.KINGWelcome, brave captain and victorious lord!When I was young, as yet I am not old.I do remember how my father saidA stouter champion never handled sword.Long since we were resolved of your truth,Your faithful service and your toil in war;Yet never have you tasted our reward,Or been reguerdon'd with so much as thanks.Because till now we never saw your face:Therefore, stand up: and for these good deserts,We here create you Earl of Shrewsbury;And in our coronation take your place.[Sennet. Flourish. Exeunt all but Vernon and Basset.]
VERNONNow, sir, to you, that were so hot at sea,Disgracing of these colors that I wearIn honor of my noble Lord of York: —Dar'st thou maintain the former words thou spakest?BASSETYes, sir; as well as you dare patronageThe envious barking of your saucy tongueAgainst my lord the Duke of Somerset.VERNONSirrah, thy lord I honor as he is.BASSETWhy, what is he? as good a man as York.VERNONHark ye; not so: in witness, take ye that.[Strikes him.]
BASSETVillain, thou know'st the law of arms is suchThat whoso draws a sword, 'tis present death,Or else this blow should broach thy dearest blood.But I 'll unto his majesty, and craveI may have liberty to venge this wrong;When thou shalt see I 'll meet thee to thy cost.VERNONWell, miscreant, I 'll be there as soon as you;And, after, meet you sooner than you would.[Exeunt.]
ACT FOURTH
SCENE I. Paris. A hall of state
[Enter the King, Gloucester, Bishop of Winchester, York, Suffolk, Somerset, Warwick, Talbot, Exeter, the Governor of Paris, and others.]
GLOUCESTERLord bishop, set the crown upon his head.WINCHESTERGod save King Henry, of that name the sixth!GLOUCESTERNow, 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 pretendMalicious practices against his state:This shall ye do, so help you righteous God![Enter Sir John Fastolfe.]
FASTOLFEMy 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.TALBOTShame to the Duke of Burgundy and thee!I vow'd, base knight, when I did meet thee next,To tear the garter from thy craven's leg, [Plucking it off.]Which I have done, because unworthilyThou 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 strongAnd 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 besideWere there surprised and taken prisoners.Then judge, great lords, if I have done amiss;Or whether that such cowards ought to wearThis ornament of knighthood, yea or no.GLOUCESTERTo say the truth, this fact was infamousAnd ill beseeming any common man,Much more a knight, a captain, and a leader.TALBOTWhen 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 sortDoth but usurp the sacred name of knight,Profaning this most honorable order,And should, if I were worthy to be judge,Be quite degraded, like a hedge-born swainThat doth presume to boast of gentle blood.KINGStain to thy countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom!Be packing, therefore, thou that wast a knight;Henceforth we banish thee, on pain of death.[Exit Fastolfe.]