Complete Plays, The (247 page)

Charles

Thou hast astonish’d me with thy high terms:
Only this proof I’ll of thy valour make,
In single combat thou shalt buckle with me,
And if thou vanquishest, thy words are true;
Otherwise I renounce all confidence.

Joan La Pucelle

I am prepared: here is my keen-edged sword,
Deck’d with five flower-de-luces on each side;
The which at Touraine, in Saint Katharine’s churchyard,
Out of a great deal of old iron I chose forth.

Charles

Then come, o’ God’s name; I fear no woman.

Joan La Pucelle

And while I live, I’ll ne’er fly from a man.

Here they fight, and Joan La Pucelle overcomes

Charles

Stay, stay thy hands! thou art an Amazon
And fightest with the sword of Deborah.

Joan La Pucelle

Christ’s mother helps me, else I were too weak.

Charles

Whoe’er helps thee, ’tis thou that must help me:
Impatiently I burn with thy desire;
My heart and hands thou hast at once subdued.
Excellent Pucelle, if thy name be so,
Let me thy servant and not sovereign be:
’Tis the French Dauphin sueth to thee thus.

Joan La Pucelle

I must not yield to any rites of love,
For my profession’s sacred from above:
When I have chased all thy foes from hence,
Then will I think upon a recompense.

Charles

Meantime look gracious on thy prostrate thrall.

Reignier

My lord, methinks, is very long in talk.

Alencon

Doubtless he shrives this woman to her smock;
Else ne’er could he so long protract his speech.

Reignier

Shall we disturb him, since he keeps no mean?

Alencon

He may mean more than we poor men do know:
These women are shrewd tempters with their tongues.

Reignier

My lord, where are you? what devise you on?
Shall we give over Orleans, or no?

Joan La Pucelle

Why, no, I say, distrustful recreants!
Fight till the last gasp; I will be your guard.

Charles

What she says I’ll confirm: we’ll fight it out.

Joan La Pucelle

Assign’d am I to be the English scourge.
This night the siege assuredly I’ll raise:
Expect Saint Martin’s summer, halcyon days,
Since I have entered into these wars.
Glory is like a circle in the water,
Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
Till by broad spreading it disperse to nought.
With Henry’s death the English circle ends;
Dispersed are the glories it included.
Now am I like that proud insulting ship
Which Caesar and his fortune bare at once.

Charles

Was Mahomet inspired with a dove?
Thou with an eagle art inspired then.
Helen, the mother of great Constantine,
Nor yet Saint Philip’s daughters, were like thee.
Bright star of Venus, fall’n down on the earth,
How may I reverently worship thee enough?

Alencon

Leave off delays, and let us raise the siege.

Reignier

Woman, do what thou canst to save our honours;
Drive them from Orleans and be immortalized.

Charles

Presently we’ll try: come, let’s away about it:
No prophet will I trust, if she prove false.

Exeunt

S
CENE
III. L
ONDON
. B
EFORE
THE
T
OWER
.

Enter Gloucester, with his Serving-men in blue coats

Gloucester

I am come to survey the Tower this day:
Since Henry’s death, I fear, there is conveyance.
Where be these warders, that they wait not here?
Open the gates; ’tis Gloucester that calls.

First Warder

[Within]
 
Who’s there that knocks so imperiously?

First Serving-Man

It is the noble Duke of Gloucester.

Second Warder

[Within]
 
Whoe’er he be, you may not be let in.

First Serving-Man

Villains, answer you so the lord protector?

First Warder

[Within]
 
The Lord protect him! so we answer him:
We do no otherwise than we are will’d.

Gloucester

Who willed you? or whose will stands but mine?
There’s none protector of the realm but I.
Break up the gates, I’ll be your warrantize.
Shall I be flouted thus by dunghill grooms?

Gloucester’s men rush at the Tower Gates, and Woodvile the Lieutenant speaks within

Woodvile

What noise is this? what traitors have we here?

Gloucester

Lieutenant, is it you whose voice I hear?
Open the gates; here’s Gloucester that would enter.

Woodvile

Have patience, noble duke; I may not open;
The Cardinal of Winchester forbids:
From him I have express commandment
That thou nor none of thine shall be let in.

Gloucester

Faint-hearted Woodvile, prizest him ’fore me?
Arrogant Winchester, that haughty prelate,
Whom Henry, our late sovereign, ne’er could brook?
Thou art no friend to God or to the king:
Open the gates, or I’ll shut thee out shortly.
Serving-Men Open the gates unto the lord protector,
Or we’ll burst them open, if that you come not quickly.

Enter to the Protector at the Tower Gates Bishop Of Winchester and his men in tawny coats

Bishop Of Winchester

How now, ambitious Humphry! what means this?

Gloucester

Peel’d priest, dost thou command me to be shut out?

Bishop Of Winchester

I do, thou most usurping proditor,
And not protector, of the king or realm.

Gloucester

Stand back, thou manifest conspirator,
Thou that contrivedst to murder our dead lord;
Thou that givest whores indulgences to sin:
I’ll canvass thee in thy broad cardinal’s hat,
If thou proceed in this thy insolence.

Bishop Of Winchester

Nay, stand thou back, I will not budge a foot:
This be Damascus, be thou cursed Cain,
To slay thy brother Abel, if thou wilt.

Gloucester

I will not slay thee, but I’ll drive thee back:
Thy scarlet robes as a child’s bearing-cloth
I’ll use to carry thee out of this place.

Bishop Of Winchester

Do what thou darest; I beard thee to thy face.

Gloucester

What! am I dared and bearded to my face?
Draw, men, for all this privileged place;
Blue coats to tawny coats. Priest, beware your beard,
I mean to tug it and to cuff you soundly:
Under my feet I stamp thy cardinal’s hat:
In spite of pope or dignities of church,
Here by the cheeks I’ll drag thee up and down.

Bishop Of Winchester

Gloucester, thou wilt answer this before the pope.

Gloucester

Winchester goose, I cry, a rope! a rope!
Now beat them hence; why do you let them stay?
Thee I’ll chase hence, thou wolf in sheep’s array.
Out, tawny coats! out, scarlet hypocrite!

Here Gloucester’s men beat out Bishop Of Winchester’s men, and enter in the hurly- burly the Mayor of London and his Officers

Mayor

Fie, lords! that you, being supreme magistrates,
Thus contumeliously should break the peace!

Gloucester

Peace, mayor! thou know’st little of my wrongs:
Here’s Beaufort, that regards nor God nor king,
Hath here distrain’d the Tower to his use.

Bishop Of Winchester

Here’s Gloucester, a foe to citizens,
One that still motions war and never peace,
O’ercharging your free purses with large fines,
That seeks to overthrow religion,
Because he is protector of the realm,
And would have armour here out of the Tower,
To crown himself king and suppress the prince.

Gloucester

I will not answer thee with words, but blows.

Here they skirmish again

Mayor

Naught rests for me in this tumultuous strife
But to make open proclamation:
Come, officer; as loud as e’er thou canst,
Cry.

Officer

All manner of men assembled here in arms this day against God’s peace and the king’s, we charge and command you, in his highness’ name, to repair to your several dwelling-places; and not to wear, handle, or use any sword, weapon, or dagger, henceforward, upon pain of death.

Gloucester

Cardinal, I’ll be no breaker of the law:
But we shall meet, and break our minds at large.

Bishop Of Winchester

Gloucester, we will meet; to thy cost, be sure:
Thy heart-blood I will have for this day’s work.

Mayor

I’ll call for clubs, if you will not away.
This cardinal’s more haughty than the devil.

Gloucester

Mayor, farewell: thou dost but what thou mayst.

Bishop Of Winchester

Abominable Gloucester, guard thy head;
For I intend to have it ere long.

Exeunt, severally, Gloucester and Bishop Of Winchester with their Serving-men

Mayor

See the coast clear’d, and then we will depart.
Good God, these nobles should such stomachs bear!
I myself fight not once in forty year.

Exeunt

S
CENE
IV. O
RLEANS
.

Enter, on the walls, a Master Gunner and his Boy

Master-Gunner Sirrah, thou know’st how Orleans is besieged,
And how the English have the suburbs won.

Boy

Father, I know; and oft have shot at them,
Howe’er unfortunate I miss’d my aim.
Master-Gunner But now thou shalt not. Be thou ruled by me:
Chief master-gunner am I of this town;
Something I must do to procure me grace.
The prince’s espials have informed me
How the English, in the suburbs close intrench’d,
Wont, through a secret grate of iron bars
In yonder tower, to overpeer the city,
And thence discover how with most advantage
They may vex us with shot, or with assault.
To intercept this inconvenience,
A piece of ordnance ’gainst it I have placed;
And even these three days have I watch’d,
If I could see them.
Now do thou watch, for I can stay no longer.
If thou spy’st any, run and bring me word;
And thou shalt find me at the governor’s.

Exit

Boy

Father, I warrant you; take you no care;
I’ll never trouble you, if I may spy them.

Exit

Enter, on the turrets, Salisbury and Talbot, Glansdale, Gargrave, and others

Salisbury

Talbot, my life, my joy, again return’d!
How wert thou handled being prisoner?
Or by what means got’st thou to be released?
Discourse, I prithee, on this turret’s top.

Talbot

The Duke of Bedford had a prisoner
Call’d the brave Lord Ponton de Santrailles;
For him was I exchanged and ransomed.
But with a baser man of arms by far
Once in contempt they would have barter’d me:
Which I, disdaining, scorn’d; and craved death,
Rather than I would be so vile esteem’d.
In fine, redeem’d I was as I desired.
But, O! the treacherous Fastolfe wounds my heart,
Whom with my bare fists I would execute,
If I now had him brought into my power.

Salisbury

Yet tell’st thou not how thou wert entertain’d.

Talbot

With scoffs and scorns and contumelious taunts.
In open market-place produced they me,
To be a public spectacle to all:
Here, said they, is the terror of the French,
The scarecrow that affrights our children so.
Then broke I from the officers that led me,
And with my nails digg’d stones out of the ground,
To hurl at the beholders of my shame:
My grisly countenance made others fly;
None durst come near for fear of sudden death.
In iron walls they deem’d me not secure;
So great fear of my name ’mongst them was spread,
That they supposed I could rend bars of steel,
And spurn in pieces posts of adamant:
Wherefore a guard of chosen shot I had,
That walked about me every minute-while;
And if I did but stir out of my bed,
Ready they were to shoot me to the heart.

Enter the Boy with a linstock

Salisbury

I grieve to hear what torments you endured,
But we will be revenged sufficiently
Now it is supper-time in Orleans:
Here, through this grate, I count each one
And view the Frenchmen how they fortify:
Let us look in; the sight will much delight thee.
Sir Thomas Gargrave, and Sir William Glansdale,
Let me have your express opinions
Where is best place to make our battery next.

Gargrave

I think, at the north gate; for there stand lords.

Glansdale

And I, here, at the bulwark of the bridge.

Talbot

For aught I see, this city must be famish’d,
Or with light skirmishes enfeebled.

Here they shoot. Salisbury and Gargrave fall

Salisbury

O Lord, have mercy on us, wretched sinners!

Gargrave

O Lord, have mercy on me, woful man!

Talbot

What 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 hand
That 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 livest 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 my name.