Chapter 100

Talb. Saint George, and Victory; fight Souldiers, fight: The Regent hath with Talbot broke his word, And left vs to the rage of France his Sword. Where is Iohn Talbot? pawse, and take thy breath, I gaue thee Life, and rescu'd thee from Death

Iohn. O twice my Father, twice am I thy Sonne: The Life thou gau'st me first, was lost and done, Till with thy Warlike Sword, despight of Fate, To my determin'd time thou gau'st new date

Talb. When fro[m] the Dolphins Crest thy Sword struck fire, It warm'd thy Fathers heart with prowd desire Of bold-fac't Victorie. Then Leaden Age, Quicken'd with Youthfull Spleene, and Warlike Rage, Beat downe Alanson, Orleance, Burgundie, And from the Pride of Gallia rescued thee. The irefull Bastard Orleance, that drew blood From thee my Boy, and had the Maidenhood Of thy first fight, I soone encountred, And interchanging blowes, I quickly shed Some of his Bastard blood, and in disgrace Bespoke him thus: Contaminated, base, And mis-begotten blood, I spill of thine, Meane and right poore, for that pure blood of mine, Which thou didst force from Talbot, my braue Boy. Here purposing the Bastard to destroy, Came in strong rescue. Speake thy Fathers care: Art thou not wearie, Iohn? How do'st thou fare? Wilt thou yet leaue the Battaile, Boy, and flie, Now thou art seal'd the Sonne of Chiualrie? Flye, to reuenge my death when I am dead, The helpe of one stands me in little stead. Oh, too much folly is it, well I wot, To hazard all our liues in one small Boat. If I to day dye not with Frenchmens Rage, To morrow I shall dye with mickle Age. By me they nothing gaine, and if I stay, 'Tis but the shortning of my Life one day. In thee thy Mother dyes, our Households Name, My Deaths Reuenge, thy Youth, and Englands Fame: All these, and more, we hazard by thy stay; All these are sau'd, if thou wilt flye away

Iohn. The Sword of Orleance hath not made me smart, These words of yours draw Life-blood from my Heart. On that aduantage, bought with such a shame, To saue a paltry Life, and slay bright Fame, Before young Talbot from old Talbot flye, The Coward Horse that beares me, fall and dye: And like me to the pesant Boyes of France, To be Shames scorne, and subiect of Mischance. Surely, by all the Glorie you haue wonne, And if I flye, I am not Talbots Sonne. Then talke no more of flight, it is no boot, If Sonne to Talbot, dye at Talbots foot

Talb. Then follow thou thy desp'rate Syre of Creet, Thou Icarus, thy Life to me is sweet: If thou wilt fight, fight by thy Fathers side, And commendable prou'd, let's dye in pride. Enter.

Alarum. Excursions. Enter old Talbot led.

Talb. Where is my other Life? mine owne is gone. O, where's young Talbot? where is valiant Iohn? Triumphant Death, smear'd with Captiuitie, Young Talbots Valour makes me smile at thee. When he perceiu'd me shrinke, and on my Knee, His bloodie Sword he brandisht ouer mee, And like a hungry Lyon did commence Rough deeds of Rage, and sterne Impatience: But when my angry Guardant stood alone, Tendring my ruine, and assayl'd of none, Dizzie-ey'd Furie, and great rage of Heart, Suddenly made him from my side to start Into the clustring Battaile of the French: And in that Sea of Blood, my Boy did drench His ouer-mounting Spirit; and there di'de My Icarus, my Blossome, in his pride. Enter with Iohn Talbot, borne.

Seru. O my deare Lord, loe where your Sonne is borne

Tal. Thou antique Death, which laugh'st vs here to scorn, Anon from thy insulting Tyrannie, Coupled in bonds of perpetuitie, Two Talbots winged through the lither Skie, In thy despight shall scape Mortalitie. O thou whose wounds become hard fauoured death, Speake to thy father, ere thou yeeld thy breath, Braue death by speaking, whither he will or no: Imagine him a Frenchman, and thy Foe. Poore Boy, he smiles, me thinkes, as who should say, Had Death bene French, then Death had dyed to day. Come, come, and lay him in his Fathers armes, My spirit can no longer beare these harmes. Souldiers adieu: I haue what I would haue, Now my old armes are yong Iohn Talbots graue.

Dyes

Enter Charles, Alanson, Burgundie, Bastard, and Pucell.

Char. Had Yorke and Somerset brought rescue in, We should haue found a bloody day of this

Bast. How the yong whelpe of Talbots raging wood, Did flesh his punie-sword in Frenchmens blood

Puc. Once I encountred him, and thus I said: Thou Maiden youth, be vanquisht by a Maide. But with a proud Maiesticall high scorne He answer'd thus: Yong Talbot was not borne To be the pillage of a Giglot Wench: So rushing in the bowels of the French, He left me proudly, as vnworthy fight

Bur. Doubtlesse he would haue made a noble Knight: See where he lyes inherced in the armes Of the most bloody Nursser of his harmes

Bast. Hew them to peeces, hack their bones assunder, Whose life was Englands glory, Gallia's wonder

Char. Oh no forbeare: For that which we haue fled During the life, let vs not wrong it dead. Enter Lucie.

Lu. Herald, conduct me to the Dolphins Tent, To know who hath obtain'd the glory of the day

Char. On what submissiue message art thou sent? Lucy. Submission Dolphin? Tis a meere French word: We English Warriours wot not what it meanes. I come to know what Prisoners thou hast tane, And to suruey the bodies of the dead

Char. For prisoners askst thou? Hell our prison is. But tell me whom thou seek'st? Luc. But where's the great Alcides of the field, Valiant Lord Talbot Earle of Shrewsbury? Created for his rare successe in Armes, Great Earle of Washford, Waterford, and Valence, Lord Talbot of Goodrig and Vrchinfield, Lord Strange of Blackmere, Lord Verdon of Alton, Lord Cromwell of Wingefield, Lord Furniuall of Sheffeild, The thrice victorious Lord of Falconbridge, Knight of the Noble Order of S[aint]. George, Worthy S[aint]. Michael, and the Golden Fleece, Great Marshall to Henry the sixt, Of all his Warres within the Realme of France

Puc. Heere's a silly stately stile indeede: The Turke that two and fiftie Kingdomes hath, Writes not so tedious a Stile as this. Him that thou magnifi'st with all these Titles, Stinking and fly-blowne lyes heere at our feete

Lucy. Is Talbot slaine, the Frenchmens only Scourge, Your Kingdomes terror, and blacke Nemesis? Oh were mine eye-balles into Bullets turn'd, That I in rage might shoot them at your faces. Oh, that I could but call these dead to life, It were enough to fright the Realme of France. Were but his Picture left amongst you here, It would amaze the prowdest of you all. Giue me their Bodyes, that I may beare them hence, And giue them Buriall, as beseemes their worth

Pucel. I thinke this vpstart is old Talbots Ghost, He speakes with such a proud commanding spirit: For Gods sake let him haue him, to keepe them here, They would but stinke, and putrifie the ayre

Char. Go take their bodies hence

Lucy. Ile beare them hence: but from their ashes shal be reard A Phoenix that shall make all France affear'd

Char. So we be rid of them, do with him what y wilt. And now to Paris in this conquering vaine, All will be ours, now bloody Talbots slaine. Enter.

Scena secunda.

SENNET.

Enter King, Glocester, and Exeter.

King. Haue you perus'd the Letters from the Pope, The Emperor, and the Earle of Arminack? Glo. I haue my Lord, and their intent is this, They humbly sue vnto your Excellence, To haue a godly peace concluded of, Betweene the Realmes of England, and of France

King. How doth your Grace affect their motion? Glo. Well (my good Lord) and as the only meanes To stop effusion of our Christian blood, And stablish quietnesse on euery side

King. I marry Vnckle, for I alwayes thought It was both impious and vnnaturall, That such immanity and bloody strife Should reigne among Professors of one Faith

Glo. Beside my Lord, the sooner to effect, And surer binde this knot of amitie, The Earle of Arminacke neere knit to Charles, A man of great Authoritie in France, Proffers his onely daughter to your Grace, In marriage, with a large and sumptuous Dowrie

King. Marriage Vnckle? Alas my yeares are yong: And fitter is my studie, and my Bookes, Then wanton dalliance with a Paramour. Yet call th' Embassadors, and as you please, So let them haue their answeres euery one: I shall be well content with any choyce Tends to Gods glory, and my Countries weale. Enter Winchester, and three Ambassadors.

Exet. What, is my Lord of Winchester install'd, And call'd vnto a Cardinalls degree? Then I perceiue, that will be verified Henry the Fift did sometime prophesie. If once he come to be a Cardinall, Hee'l make his cap coequall with the Crowne

King. My Lords Ambassadors, your seuerall suites Haue bin consider'd and debated on, Your purpose is both good and reasonable: And therefore are we certainly resolu'd, To draw conditions of a friendly peace, Which by my Lord of Winchester we meane Shall be transported presently to France

Glo. And for the proffer of my Lord your Master, I haue inform'd his Highnesse so at large, As liking of the Ladies vertuous gifts, Her Beauty, and the valew of her Dower, He doth intend she shall be Englands Queene

King. In argument and proofe of which contract, Beare her this Iewell, pledge of my affection. And so my Lord Protector see them guarded, And safely brought to Douer, wherein ship'd Commit them to the fortune of the sea.

Exeunt.

Win. Stay my Lord Legate, you shall first receiue The summe of money which I promised Should be deliuered to his Holinesse, For cloathing me in these graue Ornaments

Legat. I will attend vpon your Lordships leysure

Win. Now Winchester will not submit, I trow, Or be inferiour to the proudest Peere; Humfrey of Gloster, thou shalt well perceiue, That neither in birth, or for authoritie, The Bishop will be ouer-borne by thee: Ile either make thee stoope, and bend thy knee, Or sacke this Country with a mutiny.

Exeunt.

Scoena Tertia.

Enter Charles, Burgundy, Alanson, Bastard, Reignier, and Ione.

Char. These newes (my Lords) may cheere our drooping spirits: 'Tis said, the stout Parisians do reuolt, And turne againe vnto the warlike French

Alan. Then march to Paris Royall Charles of France, And keepe not backe your powers in dalliance

Pucel. Peace be amongst them if they turne to vs, Else ruine combate with their Pallaces. Enter Scout.

Scout. Successe vnto our valiant Generall, And happinesse to his accomplices

Char. What tidings send our Scouts? I prethee speak

Scout. The English Army that diuided was Into two parties, is now conioyn'd in one, And meanes to giue you battell presently

Char. Somewhat too sodaine Sirs, the warning is, But we will presently prouide for them

Bur. I trust the Ghost of Talbot is not there: Now he is gone my Lord, you neede not feare

Pucel. Of all base passions, Feare is most accurst. Command the Conquest Charles, it shall be thine: Let Henry fret, and all the world repine

Char. Then on my Lords, and France be fortunate.

Exeunt. Alarum. Excursions.

Enter Ione de Pucell.

Puc. The Regent conquers, and the Frenchmen flye. Now helpe ye charming Spelles and Periapts, And ye choise spirits that admonish me, And giue me signes of future accidents.

Thunder.

You speedy helpers, that are substitutes Vnder the Lordly Monarch of the North, Appeare, and ayde me in this enterprize.

Enter Fiends.

This speedy and quicke appearance argues proofe Of your accustom'd diligence to me. Now ye Familiar Spirits, that are cull'd Out of the powerfull Regions vnder earth, Helpe me this once, that France may get the field.

They walke, and speake not.

Oh hold me not with silence ouer-long: Where I was wont to feed you with my blood, Ile lop a member off, and giue it you, In earnest of a further benefit: So you do condiscend to helpe me now.

They hang their heads.

No hope to haue redresse? My body shall Pay recompence, if you will graunt my suite.

They shake their heads.

Cannot my body, nor blood-sacrifice, Intreate you to your wonted furtherance? Then take my soule; my body, soule, and all, Before that England giue the French the foyle.

They depart.

See, they forsake me. Now the time is come, That France must vale her lofty plumed Crest, And let her head fall into Englands lappe. My ancient Incantations are too weake, And hell too strong for me to buckle with: Now France, thy glory droopeth to the dust. Enter.

Excursions. Burgundie and Yorke fight hand to hand. French flye.

Yorke. Damsell of France, I thinke I haue you fast, Vnchaine your spirits now with spelling Charmes, And try if they can gaine your liberty. A goodly prize, fit for the diuels grace. See how the vgly Witch doth bend her browes, As if with Circe, she would change my shape

Puc. Chang'd to a worser shape thou canst not be: Yor. Oh, Charles the Dolphin is a proper man, No shape but his can please your dainty eye

Puc. A plaguing mischeefe light on Charles, and thee, And may ye both be sodainly surpriz'd By bloudy hands, in sleeping on your beds

Yorke. Fell banning Hagge, Inchantresse hold thy tongue

Puc. I prethee giue me leaue to curse awhile

Yorke. Curse Miscreant, when thou comst to the stake

Exeunt.

Alarum. Enter Suffolke with Margaret in his hand.

Suff. Be what thou wilt, thou art my prisoner.

Gazes on her.

Oh Fairest Beautie, do not feare, nor flye: For I will touch thee but with reuerend hands, I kisse these fingers for eternall peace, And lay them gently on thy tender side. Who art thou, say? that I may honor thee

Mar. Margaret my name, and daughter to a King, The King of Naples, who so ere thou art

Suff. An Earle I am, and Suffolke am I call'd. Be not offended Natures myracle, Thou art alotted to be tane by me: So doth the Swan her downie Signets saue, Keeping them prisoner vnderneath his wings: Yet if this seruile vsage once offend, Go, and be free againe, as Suffolkes friend.

She is going

Oh stay: I haue no power to let her passe, My hand would free her, but my heart sayes no. As playes the Sunne vpon the glassie streames, Twinkling another counterfetted beame, So seemes this gorgeous beauty to mine eyes. Faine would I woe her, yet I dare not speake: Ile call for Pen and Inke, and write my minde: Fye De la Pole, disable not thy selfe: Hast not a Tongue? Is she not heere? Wilt thou be daunted at a Womans sight? I: Beauties Princely Maiesty is such, 'Confounds the tongue, and makes the senses rough

Mar. Say Earle of Suffolke, if thy name be so, What ransome must I pay before I passe? For I perceiue I am thy prisoner

Suf. How canst thou tell she will deny thy suite, Before thou make a triall of her loue? M. Why speak'st thou not? What ransom must I pay? Suf. She's beautifull; and therefore to be Wooed: She is a Woman; therefore to be Wonne

Mar, Wilt thou accept of ransome, yea or no? Suf. Fond man, remember that thou hast a wife, Then how can Margaret be thy Paramour? Mar. I were best to leaue him, for he will not heare

Suf. There all is marr'd: there lies a cooling card

Mar. He talkes at randon: sure the man is mad

Suf. And yet a dispensation may bee had

Mar. And yet I would that you would answer me

Suf. Ile win this Lady Margaret. For whom? Why for my King: Tush, that's a woodden thing

Mar. He talkes of wood: It is some Carpenter

Suf. Yet so my fancy may be satisfied, And peace established betweene these Realmes. But there remaines a scruple in that too: For though her Father be the King of Naples, Duke of Aniou and Mayne, yet is he poore, And our Nobility will scorne the match

Mar. Heare ye Captaine? Are you not at leysure? Suf. It shall be so, disdaine they ne're so much: Henry is youthfull, and will quickly yeeld. Madam, I haue a secret to reueale

Mar. What though I be inthral'd, he seems a knight And will not any way dishonor me

Suf. Lady, vouchsafe to listen what I say

Mar. Perhaps I shall be rescu'd by the French, And then I need not craue his curtesie

Suf. Sweet Madam, giue me hearing in a cause

Mar. Tush, women haue bene captiuate ere now

Suf. Lady, wherefore talke you so? Mar. I cry you mercy, 'tis but Quid for Quo

Suf. Say gentle Princesse, would you not suppose Your bondage happy, to be made a Queene? Mar. To be a Queene in bondage, is more vile, Than is a slaue, in base seruility: For Princes should be free

Suf. And so shall you, If happy Englands Royall King be free

Mar. Why what concernes his freedome vnto mee? Suf. Ile vndertake to make thee Henries Queene, To put a Golden Scepter in thy hand, And set a precious Crowne vpon thy head, If thou wilt condiscend to be my- Mar. What? Suf. His loue

Mar. I am vnworthy to be Henries wife

Suf. No gentle Madam, I vnworthy am To woe so faire a Dame to be his wife, And haue no portion in the choice my selfe. How say you Madam, are ye so content? Mar. And if my Father please, I am content

Suf. Then call our Captaines and our Colours forth, And Madam, at your Fathers Castle walles, Wee'l craue a parley, to conferre with him.

Sound. Enter Reignier on the Walles.

See Reignier see, thy daughter prisoner

Reig. To whom? Suf. To me

Reig. Suffolke, what remedy? I am a Souldier, and vnapt to weepe, Or to exclaime on Fortunes ficklenesse

Suf. Yes, there is remedy enough my Lord, Consent, and for thy Honor giue consent, Thy daughter shall be wedded to my King, Whom I with paine haue wooed and wonne thereto: And this her easie held imprisonment, Hath gain'd thy daughter Princely libertie

Reig. Speakes Suffolke as he thinkes? Suf. Faire Margaret knowes, That Suffolke doth not flatter, face, or faine

Reig. Vpon thy Princely warrant, I descend, To giue thee answer of thy iust demand

Suf. And heere I will expect thy comming.

Trumpets sound. Enter Reignier.

Reig. Welcome braue Earle into our Territories, Command in Aniou what your Honor pleases

Suf. Thankes Reignier, happy for so sweet a Childe, Fit to be made companion with a King: What answer makes your Grace vnto my suite? Reig. Since thou dost daigne to woe her little worth, To be the Princely Bride of such a Lord: Vpon condition I may quietly Enioy mine owne, the Country Maine and Aniou, Free from oppression, or the stroke of Warre, My daughter shall be Henries, if he please

Suf. That is her ransome, I deliuer her, And those two Counties I will vndertake Your Grace shall well and quietly enioy

Reig. And I againe in Henries Royall name, As Deputy vnto that gracious King, Giue thee her hand for signe of plighted faith

Suf. Reignier of France, I giue thee Kingly thankes, Because this is in Trafficke of a King. And yet me thinkes I could be well content To be mine owne Atturney in this case. Ile ouer then to England with this newes. And make this marriage to be solemniz'd: So farewell Reignier, set this Diamond safe In Golden Pallaces as it becomes

Reig. I do embrace thee, as I would embrace The Christian Prince King Henrie were he heere

Mar. Farewell my Lord, good wishes, praise, & praiers, Shall Suffolke euer haue of Margaret.

Shee is going.

Suf. Farwell sweet Madam: but hearke you Margaret, No Princely commendations to my King? Mar. Such commendations as becomes a Maide, A Virgin, and his Seruant, say to him

Suf. Words sweetly plac'd, and modestie directed, But Madame, I must trouble you againe, No louing Token to his Maiestie? Mar. Yes, my good Lord, a pure vnspotted heart, Neuer yet taint with loue, I send the King

Suf. And this withall.

Kisse her.

Mar. That for thy selfe, I will not so presume, To send such peeuish tokens to a King

Suf. Oh wert thou for my selfe: but Suffolke stay, Thou mayest not wander in that Labyrinth, There Minotaurs and vgly Treasons lurke, Solicite Henry with her wonderous praise. Bethinke thee on her Vertues that surmount, Mad naturall Graces that extinguish Art, Repeate their semblance often on the Seas, That when thou com'st to kneele at Henries feete, Thou mayest bereaue him of his wits with wonder.

Exit

Enter Yorke, Warwicke, Shepheard, Pucell.

Yor. Bring forth that Sorceresse condemn'd to burne

Shep. Ah Ione, this kils thy Fathers heart out-right, Haue I sought euery Country farre and neere, And now it is my chance to finde thee out, Must I behold thy timelesse cruell death: Ah Ione, sweet daughter Ione, Ile die with thee

Pucel. Decrepit Miser, base ignoble Wretch, I am am descended of a gentler blood. Thou art no Father, nor no Friend of mine

Shep. Out, out: My Lords, and please you, 'tis not so I did beget her, all the Parish knowes: Her Mother liueth yet, can testifie She was the first fruite of my Bach'ler-ship

War. Gracelesse, wilt thou deny thy Parentage? Yorke. This argues what her kinde of life hath beene, Wicked and vile, and so her death concludes

Shep. Fye Ione, that thou wilt be so obstacle: God knowes, thou art a collop of my flesh, And for thy sake haue I shed many a teare: Deny me not, I prythee, gentle Ione

Pucell. Pezant auant. You haue suborn'd this man Of purpose, to obscure my Noble birth

Shep. 'Tis true, I gaue a Noble to the Priest, The morne that I was wedded to her mother. Kneele downe and take my blessing, good my Gyrle. Wilt thou not stoope? Now cursed be the time Of thy natiuitie: I would the Milke Thy mother gaue thee when thou suck'st her brest, Had bin a little Rats-bane for thy sake. Or else, when thou didst keepe my Lambes a-field, I wish some rauenous Wolfe had eaten thee. Doest thou deny thy Father, cursed Drab? O burne her, burne her, hanging is too good. Enter.

Yorke. Take her away, for she hath liu'd too long, To fill the world with vicious qualities

Puc. First let me tell you whom you haue condemn'd; Not me, begotten of a Shepheard Swaine, But issued from the Progeny of Kings. Vertuous and Holy, chosen from aboue, By inspiration of Celestiall Grace, To worke exceeding myracles on earth. I neuer had to do with wicked Spirits. But you that are polluted with your lustes, Stain'd with the guiltlesse blood of Innocents, Corrupt and tainted with a thousand Vices: Because you want the grace that others haue, You iudge it straight a thing impossible To compasse Wonders, but by helpe of diuels. No misconceyued, Ione of Aire hath beene A Virgin from her tender infancie, Chaste, and immaculate in very thought, Whose Maiden-blood thus rigorously effus'd, Will cry for Vengeance, at the Gates of Heauen

Yorke. I, I: away with her to execution

War. And hearke ye sirs: because she is a Maide, Spare for no Faggots, let there be enow: Place barrelles of pitch vpon the fatall stake, That so her torture may be shortned

Puc. Will nothing turne your vnrelenting hearts? Then Ione discouer thine infirmity, That warranteth by Law, to be thy priuiledge. I am with childe ye bloody Homicides: Murther not then the Fruite within my Wombe, Although ye hale me to a violent death

Yor. Now heauen forfend, the holy Maid with child? War. The greatest miracle that ere ye wrought. Is all your strict precisenesse come to this? Yorke. She and the Dolphin haue bin iugling, I did imagine what would be her refuge

War. Well go too, we'll haue no Bastards liue, Especially since Charles must Father it

Puc. You are deceyu'd, my childe is none of his, It was Alanson that inioy'd my loue

Yorke. Alanson that notorious Macheuile? It dyes, and if it had a thousand liues

Puc. Oh giue me leaue, I haue deluded you, 'Twas neyther Charles, nor yet the Duke I nam'd, But Reignier King of Naples that preuayl'd

War. A married man, that's most intollerable

Yor. Why here's a Gyrle: I think she knowes not wel (There were so many) whom she may accuse

War. It's signe she hath beene liberall and free

Yor. And yet forsooth she is a Virgin pure. Strumpet, thy words condemne thy Brat, and thee. Vse no intreaty, for it is in vaine

Pu. Then lead me hence: with whom I leaue my curse. May neuer glorious Sunne reflex his beames Vpon the Countrey where you make abode: But darknesse, and the gloomy shade of death Inuiron you, till Mischeefe and Dispaire, Driue you to break your necks, or hang your selues.

Exit

Enter Cardinall.