King Henry VI, First Part

SALISBURYO Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!GARGRAVEO Lord, have mercy on me, woful man!TALBOTWhat chance is this that suddenly hath cross'd us?Speak, Salisbury: at least, if thou canst speak:How farest thou, mirror of all martial men?One of thy eyes and thy cheek's side struck off!Accursed tower! accursed fatal handThat hath contrived this woful 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 thy name.

[Here an alarum, and it thunders and lightens. ]

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

[Enter a Messenger.]

MESSENGERMy 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.

[Here SALISBURY lifteth himself up and groans.]

TALBOTHear, hear how dying Salisbury doth groan!It irks his heart he cannot be revenged.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.

[Alarum. Exeunt.]

SCENE V. The same

[Here an alarum again: and Talbot pursueth the Dauphin, and driveth him: then enter Joan La Pucelle, driving Englishmen before her, and exit after them: then re-enter Talbot.]

TALBOTWhere is my strength, my valor, and my force?Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them:A woman clad in armour chaseth them.

[Re-enter La Pucelle.]

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 servest.PUCELLECome, come, 'tis only I that must disgrace thee.

[Here they fight.]

TALBOTHeavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail?My breast I 'll burst with straining of my courage,And from my shoulders crack my arms asunder,But I will chastise this high-minded strumpet.

[They fight again.]

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

[A short alarum: then enter the town with soldiers.]

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

[Exit.]

TALBOTMy 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 stenchAre from their hives and houses driven away.They call'd us for our fierceness English dogs;Now, like to whelps, we crying run away.

[A short alarum.]

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.

[Alarum. Here another skirmish.]

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 ent'red 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.

[Exit Talbot. Alarum; retreat; flourish.]

SCENE VI. The Same

[Enter, on the walls, La Pucelle, Charles, Reignier, Alencon, and Soldiers.]

PUCELLEAdvance our waving colours on the walls;Rescued is Orleans from the English:Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.CHARLESDivinest creature, Astraea's daughter,How shall I honour thee for this success?Thy promises are like Adonis' gardensThat 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.REIGNIERWhy ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town?Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfiresAnd feast and banquet in the open streets,To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.ALENCONAll France will be replete with mirth and joy,When they shall hear how we have play'd the men.CHARLES'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won;For which I will divide my crown with her;And all the priests and friars in my realmShall in procession sing her endless praise.A statelier pyramis to her I 'll rearThan Rhodope's of Memphis ever was;In memory of her when she is dead,Her ashes, in an urn more preciousThan the rich-jewel'd coffer of Darius,Transported shall be at high festivalsBefore 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 royallyAfter this golden day of victory.

[Flourish. Exeunt.]

ACT SECOND

SCENE I. Before Orleans

[Enter a Sergeant of a band, with two Sentinels.]

SERGEANTSirs, take your places and be vigilant:If any noise or soldier you perceiveNear to the walls, by some apparent signLet us have knowledge at the court of guard.FIRST SENTINELSergeant, you shall. [Exit Sergeant.Thus are poor servitors,When others sleep upon their quiet beds,Constrain'd to watch in darkness, rain and cold.

[Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, and forces, with scaling-ladders, their drums beating a dead march.]

TALBOTLord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy,By whose approach the regions of Artois,Wallon and Picardy are friends to us,This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,Having all day caroused and banqueted:Embrace we then this opportunity,As fitting best to quittance their deceitContriv'd by art and baleful sorcery.BEDFORDCoward of France, how much he wrongs his fame,Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,To join with witches and the help of hell!BURGUNDYTraitors have never other company.But what 's that Pucelle whom they term so pure?TALBOTA maid, they say.BEDFORDA maid! and be so martial!BURGUNDYPray God she prove not masculine ere long,If underneath the standard of the FrenchShe carry armour as she hath begun.TALBOTWell, let them practice and converse with spirits:God is our fortress, in whose conquering nameLet us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.BEDFORDAscend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee.TALBOTNot 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.BEDFORDAgreed: I 'll to yond corner.BURGUNDYAnd I to this.TALBOTAnd here will Talbot mount, or make his grave.Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the rightOf English Henry, shall this night appearHow much in duty I am bound to both.SENTINELArm! arm! the enemy doth make assault!

[Cry: 'St George,' 'A Talbot.']

[The French leap over the walls in their shirts.

Enter, several ways, the Bastard of Orleans, Alencon, and

Reignier, half ready, and half unready.]

ALENCONHow now, my lords! what, all unready so?BASTARDUnready! aye, and glad we 'scap'd so well.REIGNIER'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors.ALENCONOf all exploits since first I follow'd arms,Ne'er heard I of a warlike enterpriseMore venturous or desperate than this.BASTARDI think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.REIGNIERIf not of hell, the heavens, sure, favor him.ALENCONHere cometh Charles: I marvel how he sped.BASTARDTut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.

[Enter Charles and La Pucelle.]

CHARLESIs 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?PUCELLEWherefore is Charles impatient with his friend?At all times will you have my power alike?Sleeping or waking must I still prevail,

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.