Chapter 99

Pucell. Your Honors shall perceiue how I will worke, To bring this matter to the wished end.

Drumme sounds a farre off.

Hearke, by the sound of Drumme you may perceiue Their Powers are marching vnto Paris-ward.

Here sound an English March.

There goes the Talbot with his Colours spred, And all the Troupes of English after him.

French March.

Now in the Rereward comes the Duke and his: Fortune in fauor makes him lagge behinde. Summon a Parley, we will talke with him.

Trumpets sound a Parley.

Charles. A Parley with the Duke of Burgonie

Burg. Who craues a Parley with the Burgonie? Pucell. The Princely Charles of France, thy Countreyman

Burg. What say'st thou Charles? for I am marching hence

Charles. Speake Pucell, and enchaunt him with thy words

Pucell. Braue Burgonie, vndoubted hope of France, Stay, let thy humble Hand-maid speake to thee

Burg. Speake on, but be not ouer-tedious

Pucell. Looke on thy Country, look on fertile France, And see the Cities and the Townes defac't, By wasting Ruine of the cruell Foe, As lookes the Mother on her lowly Babe, When Death doth close his tender-dying Eyes. See, see the pining Maladie of France: Behold the Wounds, the most vnnaturall Wounds, Which thou thy selfe hast giuen her wofull Brest. Oh turne thy edged Sword another way, Strike those that hurt, and hurt not those that helpe: One drop of Blood drawne from thy Countries Bosome, Should grieue thee more then streames of forraine gore. Returne thee therefore with a floud of Teares, And wash away thy Countries stayned Spots

Burg. Either she hath bewitcht me with her words, Or Nature makes me suddenly relent

Pucell. Besides, all French and France exclaimes on thee, Doubting thy Birth and lawfull Progenie. Who ioyn'st thou with, but with a Lordly Nation, That will not trust thee, but for profits sake? When Talbot hath set footing once in France, And fashion'd thee that Instrument of Ill, Who then, but English Henry, will be Lord, And thou be thrust out, like a Fugitiue? Call we to minde, and marke but this for proofe: Was not the Duke of Orleance thy Foe? And was he not in England Prisoner? But when they heard he was thine Enemie, They set him free, without his Ransome pay'd, In spight of Burgonie and all his friends. See then, thou fight'st against thy Countreymen, And ioyn'st with them will be thy slaughter-men. Come, come, returne; returne thou wandering Lord, Charles and the rest will take thee in their armes

Burg. I am vanquished: These haughtie wordes of hers Haue batt'red me like roaring Cannon-shot, And made me almost yeeld vpon my knees. Forgiue me Countrey, and sweet Countreymen: And Lords accept this heartie kind embrace. My Forces and my Power of Men are yours. So farwell Talbot, Ile no longer trust thee

Pucell. Done like a Frenchman: turne and turne againe

Charles. Welcome braue Duke, thy friendship makes vs fresh

Bastard. And doth beget new Courage in our Breasts

Alans. Pucell hath brauely play'd her part in this, And doth deserue a Coronet of Gold

Charles. Now let vs on, my Lords, And ioyne our Powers, And seeke how we may preiudice the Foe.

Exeunt.

Scoena Quarta.

Enter the King, Gloucester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Exeter: To them, with his Souldiors, Talbot.

Talb. My gracious Prince, and honorable Peeres, Hearing of your arriuall in this Realme, I haue a while giuen Truce vnto my Warres, To doe my dutie to my Soueraigne. In signe whereof, this Arme, that hath reclaym'd To your obedience, fiftie Fortresses, Twelue Cities, and seuen walled Townes of strength, Beside fiue hundred Prisoners of esteeme; Lets fall his Sword before your Highnesse feet: And with submissiue loyaltie of heart Ascribes the Glory of his Conquest got, First to my God, and next vnto your Grace

King. Is this the Lord Talbot, Vnckle Gloucester, That hath so long beene resident in France? Glost. Yes, if it please your Maiestie, my Liege

King. Welcome braue Captaine, and victorious Lord. When I was young (as yet I am not old) I doe remember how my Father said, A stouter Champion neuer handled Sword. Long since we were resolued of your truth, Your faithfull seruice, and your toyle in Warre: Yet neuer haue you tasted our Reward, Or beene reguerdon'd with so much as Thanks, Because till now, we neuer saw your face. Therefore stand vp, and for these good deserts, We here create you Earle of Shrewsbury, And in our Coronation take your place.

Senet. Flourish. Exeunt.

Manet Vernon and Basset.

Vern. Now Sir, to you that were so hot at Sea, Disgracing of these Colours that I weare, In honor of my Noble Lord of Yorke Dar'st thou maintaine the former words thou spak'st? Bass. Yes Sir, as well as you dare patronage The enuious barking of your sawcie Tongue, Against my Lord the Duke of Somerset

Vern. Sirrha, thy Lord I honour as he is

Bass. Why, what is he? as good a man as Yorke

Vern. Hearke ye: not so: in witnesse take ye that.

Strikes him.

Bass. Villaine, thou knowest The Law of Armes is such, That who so drawes a Sword, 'tis present death, Or else this Blow should broach thy dearest Bloud. But Ile vnto his Maiestie, and craue, I may haue libertie to venge this Wrong, When thou shalt see, Ile meet thee to thy cost

Vern. Well miscreant, Ile be there as soone as you, And after meete you, sooner then you would.

Exeunt.

Actus Quartus. Scena Prima.

Enter King, Glocester, Winchester, Yorke, Suffolke, Somerset, Warwicke, Talbot, and Gouernor Exeter.

Glo. Lord Bishop set the Crowne vpon his head

Win. God saue King Henry of that name the sixt

Glo. Now Gouernour of Paris take your oath, That you elect no other King but him; Esteeme none Friends, but such as are his Friends, And none your Foes, but such as shall pretend Malicious practises against his State: This shall ye do, so helpe you righteous God. Enter Falstaffe.

Fal. My gracious Soueraigne, as I rode from Calice, To haste vnto your Coronation: A Letter was deliuer'd to my hands, Writ to your Grace, from th' Duke of Burgundy

Tal. Shame to the Duke of Burgundy, and thee: I vow'd (base Knight) when I did meete the next, To teare the Garter from thy Crauens legge, Which I haue done, because (vnworthily) Thou was't installed in that High Degree. Pardon me Princely Henry, and the rest: This Dastard, at the battell of Poictiers, When (but in all) I was sixe thousand strong, And that the French were almost ten to one, Before we met, or that a stroke was giuen, Like to a trustie Squire, did run away. In which assault, we lost twelue hundred men. My selfe, and diuers Gentlemen beside, Were there surpriz'd, and taken prisoners. Then iudge (great Lords) if I haue done amisse: Or whether that such Cowards ought to weare This Ornament of Knighthood, yea or no? Glo. To say the truth, this fact was infamous, And ill beseeming any common man; Much more a Knight, a Captaine, and a Leader

Tal. When first this Order was ordain'd my Lords, Knights of the Garter were of Noble birth; Valiant, and Vertuous, full of haughtie Courage, Such as were growne to credit by the warres: Not fearing Death, nor shrinking for Distresse, But alwayes resolute, in most extreames. He then, that is not furnish'd in this sort, Doth but vsurpe the Sacred name of Knight, Prophaning this most Honourable Order, And should (if I were worthy to be Iudge) Be quite degraded, like a Hedge-borne Swaine, That doth presume to boast of Gentle blood

K. Staine to thy Countrymen, thou hear'st thy doom: Be packing therefore, thou that was't a knight: Henceforth we banish thee on paine of death. And now Lord Protector, view the Letter Sent from our Vnckle Duke of Burgundy

Glo. What meanes his Grace, that he hath chaung'd his Stile? No more but plaine and bluntly? (To the King.) Hath he forgot he is his Soueraigne? Or doth this churlish Superscription Pretend some alteration in good will? What's heere? I haue vpon especiall cause, Mou'd with compassion of my Countries wracke, Together with the pittifull complaints Of such as your oppression feedes vpon, Forsaken your pernitious Faction, And ioyn'd with Charles, the rightfull king of France. O monstrous Treachery: Can this be so? That in alliance, amity, and oathes, There should be found such false dissembling guile? King. What? doth my Vnckle Burgundy reuolt? Glo. He doth my Lord, and is become your foe

King. Is that the worst this Letter doth containe? Glo. It is the worst, and all (my Lord) he writes

King. Why then Lord Talbot there shal talk with him, And giue him chasticement for this abuse. How say you (my Lord) are you not content? Tal. Content, my Liege? Yes: But y I am preuented, I should haue begg'd I might haue bene employd

King. Then gather strength, and march vnto him straight: Let him perceiue how ill we brooke his Treason, And what offence it is to flout his Friends

Tal. I go my Lord, in heart desiring still You may behold confusion of your foes. Enter Vernon and Bassit.

Ver. Grant me the Combate, gracious Soueraigne

Bas. And me (my Lord) grant me the Combate too

Yorke. This is my Seruant, heare him Noble Prince

Som. And this is mine (sweet Henry) fauour him

King. Be patient Lords, and giue them leaue to speak. Say Gentlemen, what makes you thus exclaime, And wherefore craue you Combate? Or with whom? Ver. With him (my Lord) for he hath done me wrong

Bas. And I with him, for he hath done me wrong

King. What is that wrong, wherof you both complain First let me know, and then Ile answer you

Bas. Crossing the Sea, from England into France, This Fellow heere with enuious carping tongue, Vpbraided me about the Rose I weare, Saying, the sanguine colour of the Leaues Did represent my Masters blushing cheekes: When stubbornly he did repugne the truth, About a certaine question in the Law, Argu'd betwixt the Duke of Yorke, and him: With other vile and ignominious tearmes. In confutation of which rude reproach, And in defence of my Lords worthinesse, I craue the benefit of Law of Armes

Ver. And that is my petition (Noble Lord:) For though he seeme with forged queint conceite To set a glosse vpon his bold intent, Yet know (my Lord) I was prouok'd by him, And he first tooke exceptions at this badge, Pronouncing that the palenesse of this Flower, Bewray'd the faintnesse of my Masters heart

Yorke. Will not this malice Somerset be left? Som. Your priuate grudge my Lord of York, wil out, Though ne're so cunningly you smother it

King. Good Lord, what madnesse rules in brainesicke men, When for so slight and friuolous a cause, Such factious aemulations shall arise? Good Cosins both of Yorke and Somerset, Quiet your selues (I pray) and be at peace

Yorke. Let this dissention first be tried by fight, And then your Highnesse shall command a Peace

Som. The quarrell toucheth none but vs alone, Betwixt our selues let vs decide it then

Yorke. There is my pledge, accept it Somerset

Ver. Nay, let it rest where it began at first

Bass. Confirme it so, mine honourable Lord

Glo. Confirme it so? Confounded be your strife, And perish ye with your audacious prate, Presumptuous vassals, are you not asham'd With this immodest clamorous outrage, To trouble and disturbe the King, and Vs? And you my Lords, me thinkes you do not well To beare with their peruerse Obiections: Much lesse to take occasion from their mouthes, To raise a mutiny betwixt your selues. Let me perswade you take a better course

Exet. It greeues his Highnesse, Good my Lords, be Friends

King. Come hither you that would be Combatants: Henceforth I charge you, as you loue our fauour, Quite to forget this Quarrell, and the cause. And you my Lords: Remember where we are, In France, amongst a fickle wauering Nation: If they perceyue dissention in our lookes, And that within our selues we disagree; How will their grudging stomackes be prouok'd To wilfull Disobedience, and Rebell? Beside, What infamy will there arise, When Forraigne Princes shall be certified, That for a toy, a thing of no regard, King Henries Peeres, and cheefe Nobility, Destroy'd themselues, and lost the Realme of France? Oh thinke vpon the Conquest of my Father, My tender yeares, and let vs not forgoe That for a trifle, that was bought with blood. Let me be Vmper in this doubtfull strife: I see no reason if I weare this Rose, That any one should therefore be suspitious I more incline to Somerset, than Yorke: Both are my kinsmen, and I loue them both. As well they may vpbray'd me with my Crowne, Because (forsooth) the King of Scots is Crown'd. But your discretions better can perswade, Then I am able to instruct or teach: And therefore, as we hither came in peace, So let vs still continue peace, and loue. Cosin of Yorke, we institute your Grace To be our Regent in these parts of France: And good my Lord of Somerset, vnite Your Troopes of horsemen, with his Bands of foote, And like true Subiects, sonnes of your Progenitors, Go cheerefully together, and digest Your angry Choller on your Enemies. Our Selfe, my Lord Protector, and the rest, After some respit, will returne to Calice; From thence to England, where I hope ere long To be presented by your Victories, With Charles, Alanson, and that Traiterous rout.

Exeunt. Manet Yorke, Warwick, Exeter, Vernon.

War. My Lord of Yorke, I promise you the King Prettily (me thought) did play the Orator

Yorke. And so he did, but yet I like it not, In that he weares the badge of Somerset

War. Tush, that was but his fancie, blame him not, I dare presume (sweet Prince) he thought no harme

York. And if I wish he did. But let it rest, Other affayres must now be managed.

Exeunt.

Flourish. Manet Exeter.

Exet. Well didst thou Richard to suppresse thy voice: For had the passions of thy heart burst out, I feare we should haue seene decipher'd there More rancorous spight, more furious raging broyles, Then yet can be imagin'd or suppos'd: But howsoere, no simple man that sees This iarring discord of Nobilitie, This shouldering of each other in the Court, This factious bandying of their Fauourites, But that it doth presage some ill euent. 'Tis much, when Scepters are in Childrens hands: But more, when Enuy breeds vnkinde deuision, There comes the ruine, there begins confusion. Enter.

Enter Talbot with Trumpe and Drumme, before Burdeaux.

Talb. Go to the Gates of Burdeaux Trumpeter, Summon their Generall vnto the Wall.

Sounds.

Enter Generall aloft.

English Iohn Talbot (Captaines) call you forth, Seruant in Armes to Harry King of England, And thus he would. Open your Citie Gates, Be humble to vs, call my Soueraigne yours, And do him homage as obedient Subiects, And Ile withdraw me, and my bloody power. But if you frowne vpon this proffer'd Peace, You tempt the fury of my three attendants, Leane Famine, quartering Steele, and climbing Fire, Who in a moment, eeuen with the earth, Shall lay your stately, and ayre-brauing Towers, If you forsake the offer of their loue

Cap. Thou ominous and fearefull Owle of death, Our Nations terror, and their bloody scourge, The period of thy Tyranny approacheth, On vs thou canst not enter but by death: For I protest we are well fortified, And strong enough to issue out and fight. If thou retire, the Dolphin well appointed, Stands with the snares of Warre to tangle thee. On either hand thee, there are squadrons pitcht, To wall thee from the liberty of Flight; And no way canst thou turne thee for redresse, But death doth front thee with apparant spoyle, And pale destruction meets thee in the face: Ten thousand French haue tane the Sacrament, To ryue their dangerous Artillerie Vpon no Christian soule but English Talbot: Loe, there thou standst a breathing valiant man Of an inuincible vnconquer'd spirit: This is the latest Glorie of thy praise, That I thy enemy dew thee withall: For ere the Glasse that now begins to runne, Finish the processe of his sandy houre, These eyes that see thee now well coloured, Shall see thee withered, bloody, pale, and dead.

Drum a farre off.

Harke, harke, the Dolphins drumme, a warning bell, Sings heauy Musicke to thy timorous soule, And mine shall ring thy dire departure out.

Exit

Tal. He Fables not, I heare the enemie: Out some light Horsemen, and peruse their Wings. O negligent and heedlesse Discipline, How are we park'd and bounded in a pale? A little Heard of Englands timorous Deere, Maz'd with a yelping kennell of French Curres. If we be English Deere, be then in blood, Not Rascall-like to fall downe with a pinch, But rather moodie mad: And desperate Stagges, Turne on the bloody Hounds with heads of Steele, And make the Cowards stand aloofe at bay: Sell euery man his life as deere as mine, And they shall finde deere Deere of vs my Friends. God, and S[aint]. George, Talbot and Englands right, Prosper our Colours in this dangerous fight. Enter a Messenger that meets Yorke. Enter Yorke with Trumpet, and many Soldiers.

Yorke. Are not the speedy scouts return'd againe, That dog'd the mighty Army of the Dolphin? Mess. They are return'd my Lord, and giue it out, That he is march'd to Burdeaux with his power To fight with Talbot as he march'd along. By your espyals were discouered Two mightier Troopes then that the Dolphin led, Which ioyn'd with him, and made their march for Burdeaux Yorke. A plague vpon that Villaine Somerset, That thus delayes my promised supply Of horsemen, that were leuied for this siege. Renowned Talbot doth expect my ayde, And I am lowted by a Traitor Villaine, And cannot helpe the noble Cheualier: God comfort him in this necessity: If he miscarry, farewell Warres in France. Enter another Messenger

2.Mes. Thou Princely Leader of our English strength, Neuer so needfull on the earth of France, Spurre to the rescue of the Noble Talbot, Who now is girdled with a waste of Iron, And hem'd about with grim destruction: To Burdeaux warlike Duke, to Burdeaux Yorke, Else farwell Talbot, France, and Englands honor

Yorke. O God, that Somerset who in proud heart Doth stop my Cornets, were in Talbots place, So should wee saue a valiant Gentleman, By forfeyting a Traitor, and a Coward: Mad ire, and wrathfull fury makes me weepe, That thus we dye, while remisse Traitors sleepe

Mes. O send some succour to the distrest Lord

Yorke. He dies, we loose: I breake my warlike word: We mourne, France smiles: We loose, they dayly get, All long of this vile Traitor Somerset

Mes. Then God take mercy on braue Talbots soule, And on his Sonne yong Iohn, who two houres since, I met in trauaile toward his warlike Father; This seuen yeeres did not Talbot see his sonne, And now they meete where both their liues are done

Yorke. Alas, what ioy shall noble Talbot haue, To bid his yong sonne welcome to his Graue: Away, vexation almost stoppes my breath, That sundred friends greete in the houre of death. Lucie farewell, no more my fortune can, But curse the cause I cannot ayde the man. Maine, Bloys, Poytiers, and Toures, are wonne away, Long all of Somerset, and his delay.

Exit

Mes. Thus while the Vulture of sedition, Feedes in the bosome of such great Commanders, Sleeping neglection doth betray to losse: The Conquest of our scarse-cold Conqueror, That euer-liuing man of Memorie, Henrie the fift: Whiles they each other crosse, Liues, Honours, Lands, and all, hurrie to losse. Enter Somerset with his Armie.

Som. It is too late, I cannot send them now: This expedition was by Yorke and Talbot, Too rashly plotted. All our generall force, Might with a sally of the very Towne Be buckled with: the ouer-daring Talbot Hath sullied all his glosse of former Honor By this vnheedfull, desperate, wilde aduenture: Yorke set him on to fight, and dye in shame, That Talbot dead, great Yorke might beare the name

Cap. Heere is Sir William Lucie, who with me Set from our ore-matcht forces forth for ayde

Som. How now Sir William, whether were you sent? Lu. Whether my Lord, from bought & sold L[ord]. Talbot, Who ring'd about with bold aduersitie, Cries out for noble Yorke and Somerset, To beate assayling death from his weake Regions, And whiles the honourable Captaine there Drops bloody swet from his warre-wearied limbes, And in aduantage lingring lookes for rescue, You his false hopes, the trust of Englands honor, Keepe off aloofe with worthlesse emulation: Let not your priuate discord keepe away The leuied succours that should lend him ayde, While he renowned Noble Gentleman Yeeld vp his life vnto a world of oddes. Orleance the Bastard, Charles, Burgundie, Alanson, Reignard, compasse him about, And Talbot perisheth by your default

Som. Yorke set him on, Yorke should haue sent him ayde

Luc. And Yorke as fast vpon your Grace exclaimes, Swearing that you with-hold his leuied hoast, Collected for this expidition

Som. York lyes: He might haue sent, & had the Horse: I owe him little Dutie, and lesse Loue, And take foule scorne to fawne on him by sending

Lu. The fraud of England, not the force of France, Hath now intrapt the Noble-minded Talbot: Neuer to England shall he beare his life, But dies betraid to fortune by your strife

Som. Come go, I will dispatch the Horsemen strait: Within sixe houres, they will be at his ayde

Lu. Too late comes rescue, he is tane or slaine, For flye he could not, if he would haue fled: And flye would Talbot neuer though he might

Som. If he be dead, braue Talbot then adieu

Lu. His Fame liues in the world. His Shame in you.

Exeunt.

Enter Talbot and his Sonne.

Tal. O yong Iohn Talbot, I did send for thee To tutor thee in stratagems of Warre, That Talbots name might be in thee reuiu'd, When saplesse Age, and weake vnable limbes Should bring thy Father to his drooping Chaire. But O malignant and ill-boading Starres, Now thou art come vnto a Feast of death, A terrible and vnauoyded danger: Therefore deere Boy, mount on my swiftest horse, And Ile direct thee how thou shalt escape By sodaine flight. Come, dally not, be gone

Iohn. Is my name Talbot? and am I your Sonne? And shall I flye? O, if you loue my Mother, Dishonor not her Honorable Name, To make a Bastard, and a Slaue of me: The World will say, he is not Talbots blood, That basely fled, when Noble Talbot stood

Talb. Flye, to reuenge my death, if I be slaine

Iohn. He that flyes so, will ne're returne againe

Talb. If we both stay, we both are sure to dye

Iohn. Then let me stay, and Father doe you flye: Your losse is great, so your regard should be; My worth vnknowne, no losse is knowne in me. Vpon my death, the French can little boast; In yours they will, in you all hopes are lost. Flight cannot stayne the Honor you haue wonne, But mine it will, that no Exploit haue done. You fled for Vantage, euery one will sweare: But if I bow, they'le say it was for feare. There is no hope that euer I will stay, If the first howre I shrinke and run away: Here on my knee I begge Mortalitie, Rather then Life, preseru'd with Infamie

Talb. Shall all thy Mothers hopes lye in one Tombe? Iohn. I, rather then Ile shame my Mothers Wombe

Talb. Vpon my Blessing I command thee goe

Iohn. To fight I will, but not to flye the Foe

Talb. Part of thy Father may be sau'd in thee

Iohn. No part of him, but will be shame in mee

Talb. Thou neuer hadst Renowne, nor canst not lose it

Iohn. Yes, your renowned Name: shall flight abuse it? Talb. Thy Fathers charge shal cleare thee from y staine

Iohn. You cannot witnesse for me, being slaine. If Death be so apparant, then both flye

Talb. And leaue my followers here to fight and dye? My Age was neuer tainted with such shame

Iohn. And shall my Youth be guiltie of such blame? No more can I be seuered from your side, Then can your selfe, your selfe in twaine diuide: Stay, goe, doe what you will, the like doe I; For liue I will not, if my Father dye

Talb. Then here I take my leaue of thee, faire Sonne, Borne to eclipse thy Life this afternoone: Come, side by side, together liue and dye, And Soule with Soule from France to Heauen flye. Enter.

Alarum: Excursions, wherein Talbots Sonne is hemm'd about, and Talbot rescues him.