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And in that ease I'll tell thee my disease.
And hath detain'd me all my flow'ring youth Within a loathsome dungeon, there to pine, Was cursed instrument of his decease.
Mor. I will, if that my fading breath permit, And death approach not ere my tale be done. Henry the Fourth, grandfather to this king, Depos'd his nephew Richard, Edward's son, The first-begotten and the lawful heir Of Edward king, the third of that descent: During whose reign the Percies of the north, Finding his usurpation most unjust, Endeavour'd my advancement to the throne. The reason mov'd these war-like lords to this Was, for that, young King Richard thus remov'd, Leaving no heir begotten of his body, I was the next by birth and parentage; For by my mother I derived am
From Lionel, Duke of Clarence, the third son
Mor. True; and thou seest that I no issue have, And that my fainting words do warrant death. Thou art my heir; the rest I wish thee gather: But yet be wary in thy studious care.
Which giveth many wounds when one will kill.
And so farewell; and fair be all thy hopes,
Plan. And peace, no war, befall thy parting soul!
In prison hast thou spent a pilgrimage,
Exeunt Gaolers, bearing out the body of MORTIMER. Here dies the dusky torch of Mortimer, Chok'd 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.
SCENE I.-London. The Parliament House. Flourish.
Enter King HENRY, EXETER, GLOU CESTER, WARWICK, SOMERSET, and SUF FOLK; the Bishop of WINCHESTER, RICHARD PLANTAGENET, and Others. GLOUCESTER offers to put up a bill; WINCHESTER snatches it, and tears it.
Win. Com'st thou with deep premeditated lines,
With written pamphlets studiously devis'd,
90 Or thou should'st find thou hast dishonour'd me.
Plan. Thy grave admonishments prevail with
But yet methinks my father's execution
To give me hearing what I shall reply.
Thou bastard of my grandfather!
Win. Ay, lordly sir; for what are you, I pray, But one imperious in another's throne?
Glou. Am I not protector, saucy priest? Win. And am not I a prelate of the church? Glou. Yes, as an outlaw in a castle keeps, And useth it to patronage his theft. Win. Unreverent Gloucester ! Glou. Thou art reverent, Touching thy spiritual function, not thy life. 50 Win. Rome shall remedy this. War. Roam thither then. Som. My lord, it were your duty to forbear. War. Ay, see the bishop be not overborne. Som. Methinks my lord should be religious, And know the office that belongs to such. War. Methinks his lordship should be humbler;
It fitteth not a prelate so to plead.
Som. Yes, when his holy state is touch'd so
War. State holy or unhallow'd, what of that? Is not his grace protector to the king? Plan. 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.
K. Hen. Uncles of Gloucester and of Win-
The special watchmen of our English weal,
First Serv. Nay, if we be forbidden stones, we'll fall to it with our teeth.
Second Serv. Do what ye dare; we are as resolute. Skirmish again.
Glou. You of my household, leave this peevish broil,
And set this unaccustom'd fight aside.
First Serv. My lord, we know your grace to be a man
Just and upright, and, for your royal birth,
And if you love me, as you say you do,
Can you, my lord of Winchester, behold
Except you mean with obstinate repulse
70 Or I would see his heart out ere the priest
See here, my friends and loving countrymen,
Win. Aside. So help me God, as I intend it not! K. Ilen. O loving uncle, kind Duke of Gloucester,
How joyful am I made by this contract !
Exeunt Mayor, Servingmen, etc. War. Accept this scroll, most gracious sovereign,
Which in the right of Richard Plantagenet
Glou. Well urg'd, my Lord of Warwick: for, sweet prince,
An if your grace mark every circumstance,
At Eltham-place I told your majesty.
K. Hen. And those occasions, uncle, were of force:
Therefore, my loving lords, our pleasure is
War. Let Richard be restored to his blood; So shall his father's wrongs be recompens'd. Win. As will the rest, so willeth Winchester. K. Hen. If Richard will be true, not that alone, But all the whole inheritance I give That doth belong unto the house of York, From whence you spring by lineal descent. Plan. Thy humble servant vows obedience And humble service till the point of death. K. Hen. Stoop then and set your knee against my foot;
And, in reguerdon of that duty done,
I gird thee with the valiant sword of York:
Plan. And so thrive Richard as thy foes may fall!
And as my duty springs, so perish they
Som. Aside. Perish, base prince, ignoble Duke
Glou. Now will it best avail your majesty 189 To cross the seas and to be crown'd in France. The presence of a king engenders love Amongst his subjects and his royal friends, As it disanimates his enemies.
K. Hen. When Gloucester says the word, King
For friendly counsel cuts off many foes.
Exe. Ay, we may march in England or in France, Not seeing what is likely to ensue.
This late dissension grown betwixt the peers 190
| Burns under feigned ashes of fog'd love,
SCENE II. France. Before Rouen.
Enter JOAN LA PUCELLE disguised, and Soldiers dressed like countrymen, with sacks upon their backs.
Joan. These are the city gates, the gates of
Through which our policy must make a breach:
And we be lords and rulers over Roan;
Watch. Within. Qui est là?
Joan. Paysans, pauvres gens de France: Poor market folks that come to sell their corn. Watch. Opens the gate. Enter, go in; the market
bell is rung.
Joan. Now, Roan, I'll shake thy bulwarks to the ground.
JOAN LA PUCELLE, etc., enter the city. Enter CHARLES, the Bastard of ORLEANS, ALENÇON, and Forces.
Cha. Saint Denis bless this happy stratagem! And once again we 'll sleep secure in Roan. Bast. Here enter'd Pucelle and her practisants; Now she is there how will she specify Where is the best and safest passage in? Alen. By thrusting out a torch from yonde: tower;
Which, once discern'd, shows that her meaning is,
No way to that, for weakness, which she enter'd.
Joan. Behold! this is the happy wedding torch
Bast. See, noble Charles, the beacon of our
The burning torch in yonder turret stands.
A prophet to the fall of all our foes!
Enter, and cry The Dauphin!' presently,
Enter TALBOT in an excursion. Tal. France, thou shalt rue this treason with thy tears,
If Talbot but survive thy treachery.
Alarum. Excursions. Enter, from the town, BEDFORD, brought in sick in a chair. Enter TALBOT and BURGUNDY without. Then, enter on the walls, JOAN LA PUCELLE, CHARLES, the Bastard of ORLEANS, ALENÇON, REIGNIER,
Tal. Foul 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. Joan. Are ye so hot, sir? Yet, Pucelle, hold thy peace;
If Talbot do but thunder, rain will follow.
The English whisper together in council. God speed the parliament! who shall be the speaker?
Tal. Dare ye come forth and meet us in the field?
Joan. Belike your lordship takes us then for fools,
To try if that our own be ours or no.
Tal. I speak not to that railing Hecate,
Tal. Signior, hang! base muleters of France! Like peasant foot-boys do they keep the walls, And dare not take up arms like gentlemen.
Joan. Away, 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 you That we are here.
Exeunt JOAN LA PUCELLE, etc., from the walls. Tal. And there will we be too ere it be long, Or else reproach be Talbot's greatest fame! Vow, Burgundy, by honour 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 town
Great Coeur-de-Lion's heart was buried,
Bed. Lord Talbot, do not so dishonour me; Here will I sit before the walls of Roan, And will be partner of your weal or woe. Bur. Courageous Bedford, let us now persuade you.
Bed. Not to be gone from hence; for once I read That stout Pendragon in his litter sick Came to the field and vanquished his foes. Methinks I should revive the soldiers' hearts, Because I ever found them as myself.
Tal. Undaunted 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 hand, And set upon our boasting enemy.
Tal. Lost, and recover'd in a day again!
Bur. War-like and martial Talbot, Burgundy Enshrines thee in his heart, and there erects Thy noble deeds as valour's monument.
Tal. Thanks, gentle duke. But where is Pucelle now?
I think her old familiar is asleep :
What! all amort? Roan hangs her head for grief
Tal. But yet, before we go, let's not forget
SCENE III.-The Same. The Plains near Rouen.
Cha. We have been guided by thee hitherto,
And not have title of an earldom here.
Joan. Your honours shall perceive how I will work
To bring this matter to the wished end.
Drum sounds afar off. Hark! by the sound of drum you may perceive Their powers are marching unto Paris-ward. 30 Here sound an English March. Enter, and pass over at a distance, TALBOT and his Forces. There goes the Talbot, with his colours spread, And all the troops of English after him. A French March.
Enter the Duke of BURGUNDY and Forces.
Now in the rearward comes the duke and his : Fortune in favour makes him lag behind. Summon a parley; we will talk with him.
Trumpets sound a parley. Cha. A parley with the Duke of Burgundy! Bur. Who craves a parley with the Burgundy? Joan. The princely Charles of France, thy countryman.
Bur. What say'st thou, Charles? for I am marching hence.
Cha. Speak, Pucelle, and enchant him with thy words.
Joan. Brave Burgundy, undoubted hope of France!
Stay, let thy humble handmaid speak to thee. Bur. Speak on; but be not over-tedious.
Joan. Look on thy country, look on fertile France,
And see the cities and the towns defac'd
One drop of blood drawn from thy country's
Should grieve thee more than streams of foreign gore:
Return thee therefore with a flood of tears, And wash away thy country's stained spots. Bur. Either she hath bewitch'd me with her words,
Or nature makes me suddenly relent.
Joan. Besides, all French and France exclains on thee,
Who join'st thou with but with a lordly nation
Who then but English Henry will be lord,
Have batter'd me like roaring cannon-shot,
Cha. Welcome, brave duke! thy friendship makes us fresh.
Bast. And doth beget new courage in our breasts.
Alen. Pucelle bath bravely play'd her part in this,
And doth deserve a coronet of gold.
Cha. Now let us on, my lords, and join our powers,
And seek how we may prejudice the foe. Ixeunt.
SCENE IV.-Paris. The Palace.
Enter King HENRY, GLOUCESTER, Bishop of
I have awhile given truce unto my wars,