SCENE IV.] FIRST PART OF KING HENRY VI. The scarecrow that affrights our children so. To hurl at the beholders of my shame. So great fear of my name 'mongst them was That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel Ready they were to shoot me to the heart. Enter the Boy with a linstock. 50 Sal. I grieve to hear what torments you en- But we will be reveng'd sufficiently. 60 Here, through this grate, I count each one Where is best place to make our battery next. Glan. And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge. SALISBURY and Sir sinners. 70 Gar. O Lord! have mercy on me, woeful man. Speak, Salisbury; at least, if thou canst speak: off! 79 Accursed tower! accursed fatal hand One eye thou hast to look to heaven for grace: 91 He beckons with his hand and smiles on me, Enter a Messenger. Mess. My lord, my lord! the French have The Dauphin, with one Joan la Pucelle join'd, 100 Is come with a great power to raise the siege. It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd. 110 SCENE V.-The Same. Before one of the Gates. I'll have a bout with Our English troops retire, I cannot stay them; Tal. Heavens, can you suffer hell so to prevail? Joan. Talbot, farewell; thy hour is not yet come: I must go victual Orleans forthwith. A short alarum: then enter the town with soldiers. Exit. 20 I know not where I am, nor what I do: stench, Are from their hives and houses driven away. Hark, countrymen! either renew the fight 31 Alarum. Another skirmish. 1 It will not be retire into your trenches: In spite of us or aught that we could do. SCENE VI.-The Same. Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens, For which I will divide my crown with her; ACT II. 20 30 This happy night the Frenchmen are secure, As fitting best to quittance their deceit Bed. Coward of France! how much he wrongs his fame, 19 Despairing of his own arm's fortitude, Bed. Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with spirits; God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks. Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. Tal. 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. Bur. Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right The English scale the walls, crying' Saint George !' Sent. Within. Arm, arm! the enemy doth make assault! The French leap over the walls in their shirts. Enter, several ways, the Bastard of ORLEANS, ALENÇON, REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready. Alen. How now, my lords! what! all unready so Bast. Unready! ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well. Reig. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds, Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors. 41 Alen. Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms, Ne'er heard I of a war-like enterprise Flourish. Exeunt. More venturous or desperate than this. SCENE I.-Before Orleans. Enter to the gates, a French Sergeant, and two Sentinels. Serg. 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. First Sent. Sergeant, 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. Bast. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell. Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him. Alen. Here cometh Charles: I marvel how he sped. Bast. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard. Enter CHARLES and JOAN LA PUCELLE Did look no better to that weighty charge. 70 But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. clothes behind. Sold. 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. Within the Town. 80 Exit. SCENE II.-Orleans. Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain, and Others. Bed. 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. Retreat sounded. Tal. 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 corpse shall be interr'd: Upon the which, that every one may read, Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans, 10 The treacherous manner of his mournful death, 21 Bed. '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. Bur. 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. Enter a Messenger. Mess. All hail, my lords! princely train 30 Which of this SCENE III.-Auvergne. Court of the Castle. Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter. Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; And when you have done so, bring the keys to me. Port. Madam, I will. Exit. Count. The plot is laid: if all things fall out right, I shall as famous be by this exploit As Scythian Tomyris by Cyrus' death. Mess. Madam, According as your ladyship desir'd, 10 By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come. Count. And he is welcome. What is this the man? Mess. Stay, my Lord Talbot; for my lady craves To know the cause of your abrupt departure 30 Re-enter Porter with keys. Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner. Tal. Prisoner! to whom? Count. But now the substance shall endure the like, 40 Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall He winds his horn. Drums strike up; a peal of With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse: I did not entertain thee as thou art. Tal. 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; No 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. 80 Count. With all my heart, and think me honoured To feast so great a warrior in my house. Exeunt. SCENE IV. London. The Temple Garden. Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and WARWICK; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERNON, and a Lawyer. Plan. Great lords and gentlemen, what means this silence? Dare no man answer in a case of truth? Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too loud; The garden here is more convenient. Plan. Then say at once if I maintain'd the truth, Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error? 10 War. 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. 20 Plan. Tut, tut! here is a mannerly forbearance: The truth appears so naked on my side That any purblind eye may find it out. Som. And on my side it is so well apparell'd, In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts: Som. Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer, I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. Som. '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. Plan. Hath not thy rose a canker, Somerset ? Som. Hath not thy rose a thorn, Plantagenet? Plan. Ay, sharp and piercing, to maintain his truth; 70 Whiles thy consuming canker eats his falsehood. Som. Well, I'll find friends to wear my bleeding roses, That shall maintain what I have said is true, Plan. Now, by this maiden blossom in my hand, Suf. I'll turn my part thereof into thy throat. Som. Away, away! good William de la Pole: We grace the yeoman by conversing with him. War. Now, by God's will, thou wrong'st him, Somerset: 82 His grandfather was Lionel, Duke of Clarence, On any plot of ground in Christendom. 100 Plan. My father was attached, not attainted, 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. Som. 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 120 Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament, Plan. Thanks, gentle sir. 131 Exeunt. SCENE V.-The Tower of London. Enter MORTIMER, brought in a chair by two Gaolers. Mor. Kind keepers of my weak decaying age, Let dying Mortimer here rest himself. Even like a man new haled from the rack, So fare my limbs with long imprisonment; And these grey locks, the pursuivants of death, 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, 11 Mor. 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. Enter RICHARD PLANTAGENET. 31 First Gaol. My lord, your loving nephew now is come. Mor. Richard Plantagenet, my friend, is he come? Plan. Ay, noble uncle, thus ignobly us'd, Your nephew, late despised Richard, comes. Mor. Direct mine arms I may embrace his neck, And in his bosom spend my latter gasp: |