Complete Plays, The (248 page)

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

Messenger

My lord, my lord, the French have gathered 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

Talbot

Hear, 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

S
CENE
V. T
HE
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

Talbot

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

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:
Blood will I draw on thee, thou art a witch,
And straightway give thy soul to him thou servest.

Joan La Pucelle

Come, come, ’tis only I that must disgrace thee.

Here they fight

Talbot

Heavens, 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

Joan La Pucelle

Talbot, 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

Talbot

My 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 stench
Are 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 enter’d 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

S
CENE
VI. T
HE
SAME
.

Enter, on the walls, Joan La Pucelle, Charles, Reignier, Alencon, and Soldiers

Joan La Pucelle

Advance our waving colours on the walls;
Rescued is Orleans from the English
Thus Joan la Pucelle hath perform’d her word.

Charles

Divinest creature, Astraea’s daughter,
How shall I honour thee for this success?
Thy promises are like Adonis’ gardens
That 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.

Reignier

Why ring not out the bells aloud throughout the town?
Dauphin, command the citizens make bonfires
And feast and banquet in the open streets,
To celebrate the joy that God hath given us.

Alencon

All 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 realm
Shall in procession sing her endless praise.
A statelier pyramis to her I’ll rear
Than Rhodope’s or Memphis’ ever was:
In memory of her when she is dead,
Her ashes, in an urn more precious
Than the rich-jewel’d of Darius,
Transported shall be at high festivals
Before 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 royally,
After this golden day of victory.

Flourish. Exeunt

A
CT
II

S
CENE
I. B
EFORE
O
RLEANS
.

Enter a Sergeant of a band with two Sentinels

Sergeant

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 Sentinel

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

Talbot

Lord 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 deceit
Contrived by art and baleful sorcery.

Bedford

Coward of France! how much he wrongs his fame,
Despairing of his own arm’s fortitude,
To join with witches and the help of hell!

Burgundy

Traitors have never other company.
But what’s that Pucelle whom they term so pure?

Talbot

A maid, they say.

Bedford

 
A maid! and be so martial!

Burgundy

Pray God she prove not masculine ere long,
If underneath the standard of the French
She carry armour as she hath begun.

Talbot

Well, let them practise and converse with spirits:
God is our fortress, in whose conquering name
Let us resolve to scale their flinty bulwarks.

Bedford

Ascend, brave Talbot; we will follow thee.

Talbot

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.

Bedford

Agreed: I’ll to yond corner.

Burgundy

And I to this.

Talbot

And here will Talbot mount, or make his grave.
Now, Salisbury, for thee, and for the right
Of English Henry, shall this night appear
How much in duty I am bound to both.

Sentinels

Arm! 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

Alencon

How now, my lords! what, all unready so?

Bastard Of Orleans

Unready! ay, and glad we ’scaped so well.

Reignier

’Twas time, I trow, to wake and leave our beds,
Hearing alarums at our chamber-doors.

Alencon

Of all exploits since first I follow’d arms,
Ne’er heard I of a warlike enterprise
More venturous or desperate than this.

Bastard Of Orleans

I think this Talbot be a fiend of hell.

Reignier

If not of hell, the heavens, sure, favour him.

Alencon

Here cometh Charles: I marvel how he sped.

Bastard Of Orleans

Tut, holy Joan was his defensive guard.

Enter Charles and Joan La Pucelle

Charles

Is 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?

Joan La Pucelle

Wherefore is Charles impatient with his friend!
At all times will you have my power alike?
Sleeping or waking must I still prevail,
Or will you blame and lay the fault on me?
Improvident soldiers! had your watch been good,
This sudden mischief never could have fall’n.

Charles

Duke of Alencon, this was your default,
That, being captain of the watch to-night,
Did look no better to that weighty charge.

Alencon

Had all your quarters been as safely kept
As that whereof I had the government,
We had not been thus shamefully surprised.

Bastard Of Orleans

Mine was secure.

Reignier

 
And so was mine, my lord.

Charles

And, for myself, most part of all this night,
Within her quarter and mine own precinct
I was employ’d in passing to and fro,
About relieving of the sentinels:
Then how or which way should they first break in?

Joan La Pucelle

Question, my lords, no further of the case,
How or which way: ’tis sure they found some place
But weakly guarded, where the breach was made.
And now there rests no other shift but this;
To gather our soldiers, scatter’d and dispersed,
And lay new platforms to endamage them.

Alarum. Enter an English Soldier, crying ‘A Talbot! a Talbot!’ They fly, leaving their clothes behind

Soldier

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.

Exit

S
CENE
II. O
RLEANS
. W
ITHIN
THE
TOWN
.

Enter Talbot, Bedford, Burgundy, a Captain, and others

Bedford

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

Talbot

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 tonight.
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 engraved the sack of Orleans,
The treacherous manner of his mournful death
And what a terror he had been to France.
But, lords, in all our bloody massacre,
I muse we met not with the Dauphin’s grace,
His new-come champion, virtuous Joan of Arc,
Nor any of his false confederates.

Bedford

’Tis thought, Lord Talbot, when the fight began,
Roused 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.

Burgundy

Myself, as far as I could well discern
For smoke and dusky vapours of the night,
Am sure I scared 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

Messenger

All hail, my lords! which of this princely train
Call ye the warlike Talbot, for his acts
So much applauded through the realm of France?

Talbot

Here is the Talbot: who would speak with him?

Messenger

The virtuous lady, Countess of Auvergne,
With modesty admiring thy renown,
By me entreats, great lord, thou wouldst vouchsafe
To visit her poor castle where she lies,
That she may boast she hath beheld the man
Whose glory fills the world with loud report.

Burgundy

Is it even so? Nay, then, I see our wars
Will turn unto a peaceful comic sport,
When ladies crave to be encounter’d with.
You may not, my lord, despise her gentle suit.

Talbot

Ne’er trust me then; for when a world of men
Could not prevail with all their oratory,
Yet hath a woman’s kindness over-ruled:
And therefore tell her I return great thanks,
And in submission will attend on her.
Will not your honours bear me company?

Bedford

No, truly; it is more than manners will:
And I have heard it said, unbidden guests
Are often welcomest when they are gone.

Talbot

Well then, alone, since there’s no remedy,
I mean to prove this lady’s courtesy.
Come hither, captain.

Whispers

You perceive my mind?