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The scarecrow that affrights our children so.
To hurl at the beholders of my shame.
That they suppos'd I could rend bars of steel
Enter a Messenger.
Mess. 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.
It irks his heart he cannot be reveng'd.
Re-enter JOAN LA PUCELLE.
Here, here she comes. I'll have a bout with thee;
Devil, or devil's dam, I'll conjure thee:
I must go victual Orleans forthwith.
It will not be : retire into your trenches : This happy night the Frenchmen are secure,
As fitting best to quittance their deceit
Bell. Coward of Franc, ! how much he wrongs The shame hereof will make me hide my head. his fame, Alarum. Retreat. Exeunt TALBOT Despairing of his own arm's fortitude,
and his Forces. To join with witches and the help of hell !
Bur. Traitors have never other company.
But what's that Pucelle whom they term so pure!
Tal. A maid, they say. Flourish. Enter, on the walls, JOAN LA PUCELLE,
A maid, and be so martial ! CHARLES, REIGNIER, ALENÇON, and Soldiers. Joan. Advance our waving colours onthe walls ; If underneath the standard of the French
Bur. Pray God she prove not masculine ere long, Rescu'd is Orleans from the English.
She carry armour as she hath begun. Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform'd her word.
Tal. Well, let them practise and converse with Cha. Divinest creature, Astræa's daughter,
spirits ; How shall I honour thee for this success?
God is our fortress, in whose conquering name Thy promises are like Adonis' gardens,
Let us resolve to scale their finty bulwarks. That one day bloom'd and fruitful were the next.
Bed. Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee. France, triumph in tby glorious prophetess!
Tal. Not all together : better far, I guess, Recover'd is the town of Orleans :
That we do make our entrance several ways, More blessed hap did ne'er befall our state.
Tbat if it chance the one of us do fail, Reig. Why ring not out the bells aloud The other yet may rise against their force. throughout the town?
Bed. Agreed. I'll to yond corner. Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires
And I to this. And feast and banquet in the open streets,
Tal. And here will Talbot mount, or make his To celebrate the joy that God hath given us. Alen. All France will be replete with mirth Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right
grave. and joy, When they shall hear how we have play'd the men. How much in duty I am bound to both.
Of English Henry, shall this night appear Cha. 'Tis Joan, not we, by whom the day is won ;
The English scale the walls, crying 'Saint George /' For which I will divide my crown with her ;
'A Talbot !' and all enter the toron. And all the priests and friars in my realm
Sent. Within. Arm, arm! the enemy doth Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
make assault! A statelier pyramis to her I'll rear Than Rhodope's or Memphis' ever was:
The French leap over the walls in their shirts. Enter, In memory of her when she is dead,
several ways, the Bastard of ORLEANS, ALEXHer ashes, in an urn more precious
çon, REIGNIER, half ready, and half unready. Than the rich-jewell'd coffer of Darius,
Alen. How now, my lords! what ! all unready so? Transported shall be at high festivals
Bast. Unready! ay, and glad we 'scap'd so well. Before the kings and queens of France.
Reij. 'Twas time, I trow, to wake and leare No longer on Saint Denis will we cry,
our beds, But Joan la Pucelle shall be France's saint.
Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors. Come in, and let us banquet royally
Alen. Of all exploits since first I follow'd arms, After this golden day of victory.
Ne'er heard I of a war-like enterprise
Bast. I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.
Reig. If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour
him. SCENE I.-Before Orleans.
Alen. Here cometh Charles ; I marvel how he Enter to the gates, a French Sergeant, and two sped. Sentinels.
Bast. Tut! holy Joan was his defensive guard. Sery. Sirs, take your places and be vigilant. Enter CHARLES and JOAN LA PUCELLE If any noise or soldier you perceive Near to the walls, by some apparent sign
Cha. Is this thy cunning, thou deceitful dame! Let us have knowledge at the court of guard.
Didst thou at first, to flatter us withal,
Make us partakers of a little gain,
Joan. Wherefore is Charles impatient with Constrain’d to watch in darkness, rain, and cold.
his friend ? Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, and Sleeping or waking must I still prevail,
At all times will you have my power alike? Forces, with scaling-ladders ; their drums beating Or will you blame and lay the fault on me? a dead murch.
Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good, Tal. Lord Regent, and redoubted Burgundy, This sudden mischief never could have fallen. By whose approach the regions of Artois,
Cha. Duke of Alençon, this was your default, Walloon, and Picardy, are friends to us, 10 | That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge. Call ye the war-like Talbot, for his acts
Alen. Had all your quarters been as safely kept So much applauded through the realm of France? As that whereof I had the government,
Tal. Here is the Talbot: who would speak We had not been thus shamefully surpris'd.
with him ? Bast. Mine was secure.
Mess. The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne, Reig.
And so was mine, my lord. With modesty admiring thy renown, Cha. And for myself, most part of all this night, By me entreats, great lord, thou would'st vouch. Within her quarter and mine own precinct
safe I was employ'd in passing to and fro,
To visit her poor castle where she lies, About relieving of the sentinels :
70 That she may boast she hath beheld the man Then how or which way should they first break in? Whose glory fills the world with loud report.
Joan. Question, my lords, no further of the case, Bur. Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars How or which way: 'tis sure they found some Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport, place
When ladies crave to be encounter'd with. But weakly guarded, where the breach was made. You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit. And now there rests no other shift but this ; Tal. Ne'er trust me then; for when a world To gather our soldiers, scatter'd and dispers’d,
of men And lay new platforms to endamage them. Could not prevail with all their oratory, Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying 'A Yet hath a woman's kindness over-rula.
Talbot ! A Talbot / They Ay, leaving their And therefore tell her, I return great thanks, clothes behind.
And in submission will attend on her.
Will not your honours bear me company? Sod. I'll be so bold to take what they have left.
Bed. No, truly, it is more than manners will; The cry of Talbot serves me for a sword; For I have loaden me with many spoils,
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone. Using no other weapon but his name. Excit.
Tal. Well then, alone, since there's no remedy,
I mean to prove this lady's courtesy. SCENE II.-Orleans. Within the Toron.
Come hither, captain.
You perceive my mind. Enter TALBOT, BEDFORD, BURGUNDY, a Captain,
Cap. I do, my lord, and mean accordingly. 60 and Other's.
Eceunt. Bed. The day begins to break, and night is fled, Whose pitchy mantle over-veil'd the earth.
SCENE III.- Auveryne. Court of the Castle. Here sound retreat, and cease our hot pursuit.
Enter the COUNTESS and her Porter. Tal. Bring forth the body of old Salisbury, Count. Porter, remember what I gave in charge; And here advance it in the market-place, And when you have done so, bring the keys to me. The middle centre of this cursed town.
Port. Madam, I will.
Erit. Now have I paid my vow unto his soul ;
Count. The plot is laid : if all things fall out For every drop of blood was drawn from him
Great is the rumour of this dreadful knight, Within their chiefest temple I'll erect
And his achievements of no less account : A tomb wherein his corpse shall be interr'd: Fain would mine eyes be witness with mine ears, Upon the which, that every one may read, To give their censure of these rare reports. Shall be engrav'd the sack of Orleans, The treacherous manner of his mournful death,
Enter Messenger and TALBOT. And what a terror he had been to France.
Mess. Madam, But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,
According as your ladyship desir'd, I muse we met not with the Dauphin's grace, By message crav'd, so is Lord Talbot come. His new.come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc, Count. And he is welcome. What! is this Nor any of his false confederates.
the man? Bed. "Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight Mess. Madam, it is. began,
Is this the scourge of France ? Rous'd on the sudden from their drowsy beds, Is this the Talbot, so much fear'd abroad They did amongst the troops of armed men That with his name the mothers still their Leap o'er the walls for refuge in the field.
babes? Bur. Myself, as far as I could well discern I see report is fabulous and false : For smoke and dusky vapours of the night, I thought I should have seen some Hercules, Am sure I scar'd the Dauphin and his trull, A second Hector, for his grim aspect, When arm in arm they both cameswiftly running, And large proportion of his strong-knit limbs. Like to a pair of loving turtle doves
Alas! this is a child, a silly dwarf : That could not live asunder day or night. It cannot be this weak and writhled shrimp After that things are set in order here,
Should strike such terror to his enemies.
But since your ladyship is not at leisure,
I'll sort some other time to visit you. Mess. All hail, my lords ! Which of this Count. What means he now ? Go ask him princely train
whither he goes.
Mess. Stay, my Lord Talbot ; for my lady
SCENE IV.--London. The Temple Garden. To know the cause of your abrupt departure 30
Enter the Earls of SOMERSET, SUFFOLK, and Tal. Marry, for that she's in a wrong belief,
WARWICK; RICHARD PLANTAGENET, VERI go to certify her Talbot 's here.
NON, and a Lawyer.
Plan. Great lords and gentlemen, what means
this silence ? Count. If thou be he, then art thou prisoner.
Dare no man answer in a case of truth?
Suf. Within the Temple hall we were too loud; And for that cause I train'd thee to my house.
Plan. Then say at once if I maintain'd the Long time thy shadow hath been thrall to me,
truth, For in my gallery thy picture hangs : But now the substance shall endure the like,
Or else was wrangling Somerset in the error ? And I will chain these legs and arms of thine,
Suf. Faith, I have been a truant in the law, That hast by tyranny these many years
And never yet could frame my will to it ;
And therefore frame the law unto my will. Wasted our country, slain our citizens, And sent our sons and husbands captivate.
Som. Judge you, my Lord of Warwick, then,
between us. Tal. Ha, ha, ha!
War. Between two hawks, which flies the Count. Laughest thou, wretch? thy mirth shall
higher pitch; turn to moan.
Between two dogs, which hath the deeper mouth; Tal. I laugh to see your ladyship so fond To think that you have aught but Talbot's Between two blades, which bears the better
temper ; shadow Whereon to practise your severity.
Between two horses, which doth bear him best;
Between two girls, which hath the merriest ere; Count. Why, art not thou the man? Tal.
I have perhaps some shallow spirit of judgment; I
But in these nice sharp quillets of the law, Count. Then have I substance too.
Good faith, I am no wiser than a daw. Tal. No, no, I am but shadow of myself :
Plan. Tut, tut! here is a mannerly forbearance: You are deceiv’d, my substance is not here;
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, I tell you, madam, were the whole frame here, It is of such a spacious lofty pitch,
So clear, so shining, and so evident, Your roof were not sufficient to contain it.
That it will glimmer through a blind man's eye. Count. This is a riddling merchant for the
Plan. Since you are tongue-tied and so loath
to speak, nonce; He will be here, and yet he is not here:
In dumb significants proclaim your thoughts : How can these contrarieties agree?
Let him that is a true-born gentleman Tal. That will I show you presently.
And stands upon the honour of his birth,
If he suppose that I have pleaded truth, He winds his horn. Drums strike up; a peal of From off this brier pluck a white rose with me. ordnance. The gates being forced, enter Soldiers.
Som. Let him that is no coward nor no flatterer,
But dare maintain the party of the truth, How say you, madam ? are you now persuaded Pluck a red rose from off this thorn with me. That Talbot is but shadow of himself ?
War. I love no colours, and without all colour These are his substance, sinews, arms, and Of base insinuating flattery strength,
I pluck this white rose with Plantagenet. With which he yoketh your rebellious necks, Suf. I pluck this red rose with young Somerset, Razeth your cities, and subverts your towns, And say withal I think he held the right. And in a moment makes them desolate.
Ver. Stay, lords and gentlemen, and pluck no Count. Victorious Talbot, pardon my abuse : I find thou art no less than fame hath bruited, Till you conclude that he, upon whose side And more than may be gather'd by thy shape. The fewest roses are cropp'd from the tree, Let my presumption not provoke thy wrath; 70 Shall yield the other in the right opinion. For I am sorry that with reverence
Som. Good Master Vernon, it is well objected: I did not entertain thee as thou art.
If I have fewest I subscribe in silence.
Ver. Then for the truth and plainness of the The outward composition of his body.
case, What you have done hath not offended me; I pluck this pale and maiden blossom here, No other satisfaction do I crave,
Giving my verdict on the white rose side. But only, with your patience, that we may Som. Prick not your finger as you pluck it off
, Taste of your wine and see what cates you Lest bleeding you do paint the white rose red,
And fall on my side so, against your will
. For soldiers' stomachs always serve them well. 80 Ver. If I, my lord, for my opinion bleed, Count. With all my heart, and think me Opinion shall be surgeon to my hurt, honoured
And keep me on the side where still I am. To feast so great a warrior in my house.
Som. Well, well, come on: who else?
On any plot of ground in Christendom.
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
War. This blot that they object against your house
Shall be wip'd out in the next parliament,
Plan. Good Master Vernon, I am bound to you, That you on my behalf would pluck a flower. Ver. In your behalf still will I wear the same. Law. And so will I.
Plan. Thanks, gentle sir. Come, let us four to dinner: I dare say This quarrel will drink blood another day.
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,
Unable to support this lump of clay,
We sent unto the temple, unto his chamber, And answer was return'd that he will come.
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. 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: