Henry vi part 1, p.8
Henry VI, Part 1,
p.8
Others.
SALISBURY
Talbot, my life, my joy, again returned!
23
How wert thou handled, being prisoner?
24
Or by what means gott’st thou to be released?
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Discourse, I prithee, on this turret’s top.
26
TALBOT
The
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Called the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;
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For him was I exchanged and ransomèd.
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But with a baser man-of-arms by far
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Once in contempt they would have bartered me,
31
Which I disdaining, scorned, and cravèd death
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Rather than I would be so
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In fine, redeemed I was as I desired.
34
But O, the treacherous Fastolf wounds my heart,
35
Whom with my bare fists I would execute
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If I now had him brought into my power.
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SALISBURY
Yet tell’st thou not how thou wert entertained.
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TALBOT
With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.
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In open marketplace produced they me
40
To be a public spectacle to all.
41
“Here,” said they, “is the terror of the French,
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The scarecrow that affrights our children so.”
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Then broke I from the officers that led me,
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And with my nails digged stones out of the ground
45
To hurl at the beholders of my shame.
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My grisly countenance made others fly;
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None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
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In iron walls they deemed me not secure:
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So great fear of my name ’mongst them were spread
50
That they supposed I could rend bars of steel
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And spurn in pieces posts of adamant.
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Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had
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That walked about me every minute-while;
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And if I did but stir out of my bed,
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Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.
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Enter the Boy with a linstock.
SALISBURY
I grieve to hear what torments you endured,
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But we will be revenged sufficiently.
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Now it is supper time in Orleance.
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Here, through this grate, I count each one
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And view the Frenchmen how they fortify.
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Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee.
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Sir Thomas Gargrave and Sir William Glansdale,
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Let me have your express opinions
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Where is best place to make our batt’ry next?
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GARGRAVE
I think at the north gate, for there stands lords.
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GLANSDALE
And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.
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TALBOT
For aught I see, this city must be famished
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Or with light skirmishes enfeeblèd.
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Here they
SALISBURY
O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!
70
GARGRAVE
O Lord, have mercy on me, woeful man!
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TALBOT
What chance is this that suddenly hath crossed us?—
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Speak, Salisbury—at least if thou canst, speak!
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How far’st thou, mirror of all martial men?
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One of thy eyes and thy cheek’s side struck off!—
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Accursèd tower, accursèd fatal hand
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That hath contrived this woeful tragedy!
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In thirteen battles Salisbury o’ercame;
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Henry the Fifth he first trained to the wars.
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Whilst any trump did sound or drum struck up,
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His sword did ne’er leave striking in the field.—
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Yet liv’st thou, Salisbury? Though thy speech doth fail,
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One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace.
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The sun with one eye vieweth all the world.
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Heaven, be thou gracious to none alive
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If Salisbury wants mercy at thy hands!—
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Sir Thomas Gargrave, hast thou any life?
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Speak unto Talbot. Nay, look up to him.—
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Bear hence his body; I will help to bury it.
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Salisbury, cheer thy spirit with this comfort,
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Thou shalt not die whiles—
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He beckons with his hand and smiles on me
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As who should say “When I am dead and gone,
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Remember to avenge me on the French.”
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Plantagenet, I will; and, like thee,
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Play on the lute, beholding the towns burn.
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Wretched shall France be only in my name.
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Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens.
What stir is this? What tumult’s in the heavens?
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Whence cometh this alarum and the noise?
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Enter a Messenger.
MESSENGER
My lord, my lord, the French have gathered head.
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The Dauphin, with one Joan
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A holy prophetess new risen up,
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Is come with a great power to raise the siege.
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Here Salisbury lifteth himself up and groans.
TALBOT
Hear, hear, how dying Salisbury doth groan;
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It irks his heart he cannot be revenged.
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Frenchmen, I’ll be a Salisbury to you.
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Pucelle or puzel, dauphin or dogfish,
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Your hearts I’ll stamp out with my horse’s heels
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And make a quagmire of your mingled brains.
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Convey
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And then try what these dastard Frenchmen dare.
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Alarum. They exit.
Here an alarum again, and Talbot pursueth the
Dauphin and driveth him; then enter Joan
driving Englishmen before her.
and exit.> Then enter Talbot.
TALBOT
Where is my strength, my valor, and my force?
1
Our English troops retire; I cannot stay them.
2
A woman clad in armor chaseth them.
3
Enter Pucelle,
Here, here she comes!—I’ll have a bout with thee.
4
Devil or devil’s dam, I’ll conjure thee.
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Blood will I draw on thee—thou art a witch—
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And straightway give thy soul to him thou serv’st.
7
PUCELLE
Come, come; ’tis only I that must disgrace thee.
8
Here they fight.
TALBOT
Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?
9
My breast I’ll burst with straining of my courage,
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And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,
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But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.
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They fight again.
PUCELLE
Talbot, farewell. Thy hour is not yet come.
13
I must go victual Orleance forthwith.
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A short alarum. Then
enter the town with Soldiers.
O’ertake me if thou canst. I scorn thy strength.
15
Go, go, cheer up thy
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Help Salisbury to make his testament.
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This day is ours, as many more shall be.
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She exits
TALBOT
My thoughts are whirlèd like a potter’s wheel.
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I know not where I am nor what I do.
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A witch by fear—not force, like Hannibal—
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Drives back our troops, and conquers as she lists.
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So bees with smoke and doves with noisome stench
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Are from their hives and houses driven away.
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They called us, for our fierceness, English dogs;
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Now like to whelps we crying run away.
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A short alarum.
chased by French soldiers.>
Hark, countrymen, either renew the fight,
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Or tear the lions out of England’s coat.
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Renounce your soil; give sheep in lions’ stead.
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Sheep run not half so treacherous from the wolf,
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Or horse or oxen from the leopard,
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As you fly from your oft-subduèd slaves.
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Alarum. Here another skirmish.
It will not be! Retire into your trenches.
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You all consented unto Salisbury’s death,
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For none would strike a stroke in his revenge.
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Pucelle is entered into Orleance
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In spite of us or aught that we could do.
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O, would I were to die with Salisbury!
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The shame hereof will make me hide my head.
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Talbot exits. Alarum. Retreat.
Flourish. Enter on the walls Pucelle,
Dauphin, Reignier, Alanson, and Soldiers.
PUCELLE
Advance our waving colors on the walls.
1
Rescued is Orleance from the English.
2
Thus Joan
3
CHARLES
Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter,
4
How shall I honor thee for this success?
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Thy promises are like Adonis’ garden
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That one day bloomed and fruitful were the next.
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France, triumph in thy glorious prophetess.
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Recovered is the town of Orleance.
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More blessèd hap did ne’er befall our state.
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REIGNIER
Why ring not bells aloud throughout the town?
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Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires
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And feast and banquet in the open streets
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To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.
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ALANSON
All France will be replete with mirth and joy
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When they shall hear how we have played the men.
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CHARLES
’Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;
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For which I will divide my crown with her,
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And all the priests and friars in my realm
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Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
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A statelier pyramis to her I’ll rear
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Than Rhodophe’s
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In memory of her, when she is dead,
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Her ashes, in an urn more precious
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Than the rich-jeweled coffer of Darius,
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Transported shall be at high festivals
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Before the kings and queens of France.
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No longer on Saint Dennis will we cry,
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But Joan
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Come in, and let us banquet royally
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After this golden day of victory.
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Flourish. They exit.
HENRY VI
Part 1
* * *
ACT 2
ACT 2
* * *
Scene 1
Enter
with two Sentinels.
SERGEANT
Sirs, take your places and be vigilant.
1
If any noise or soldier you perceive
2
Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
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Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.
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SENTINEL
Sergeant, you shall.
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Thus are poor servitors,
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When others sleep upon their quiet beds,
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Constrained to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
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Enter Talbot, Bedford, and Burgundy,
with scaling ladders.
TALBOT
Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,
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By whose approach the regions of Artois,
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Walloon, and Picardy are friends to us,
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This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
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Having all day caroused and banqueted.
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Embrace we then this opportunity,
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As fitting best to quittance their deceit
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Contrived by art and baleful sorcery.
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BEDFORD
Coward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,
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Despairing of his own arm’s fortitude,
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To join with witches and the help of hell!
19
BURGUNDY
Traitors have never other company.
